If you’ll believe me there was a time when the fairies were none so shy as they are now. That was the time when beasts talked to men, when there were spells and enchantments and magic every day, when there was great store of hidden treasure to be dug up, and adventures for the asking.At that time, you must know, an old man and an old woman lived alone by themselves. They were good and they were poor and they had no children at all.One fine day, “What are you doing this morning, good man?” says the old woman.“Oh,” says the old man, “I’m off to the mountains with my billhook to gather a faggot of sticks for our fire. And what are you doing, good wife?”“Oh,” says the old woman, “I’m off to the stream to wash clothes. It’s my washing day,” she adds.So the old man went to the mountains and the old woman went to the stream.Now, while she was washing the clothes, what should she see but a fine ripe peach that came floating down the stream? The peach was big enough, and rosy red on both sides.“I’m in luck this morning,” said the dame, and she pulled the peach to shore with a split bamboo stick.By-and-by, when her good man came home from the hills, she set the peach before him. “Eat, good man,” she said; “this is a lucky peach I found in the stream and brought home for you.”But the old man never got a taste of the peach. And why did he not?All of a sudden the peach burst in two and there was no stone to it, but a fine boy baby where the stone should have been.“Mercy me!” says the old woman.“Mercy me!” says the old man.The boy baby first ate up one half of the peach and then he ate up the other half. When he had done this he was finer and stronger than ever.“Momotaro! Momotaro!” cries the old man; “the eldest son of the peach.”“Truth it is indeed,” says the old woman; “he was born in a peach.”Both of them took such good care of Momotaro that soon he was the stoutest and bravest boy of all that country-side. He was a credit to them, you may believe. The neighbours nodded their heads and they said, “Momotaro is the fine young man!”“Mother,” says Momotaro one day to the old woman, “make me a good store of kimi-dango” (which is the way that they call millet dumplings in those parts).“What for do you want kimi-dango?” says his mother.“Why,” says Momotaro, “I’m going on a journey, or as you may say, an adventure, and I shall be needing the kimi-dango on the way.”“Where are you going, Momotaro?” says his mother.“I’m off to the Ogres’ Island,” says Momotaro, “to get their treasure, and I should be obliged if you’d let me have the kimi-dango as soon as may be,” he says.So they made him the kimi-dango, and he put them in a wallet, and he tied the wallet to his girdle and off he set.“Sayonara, and good luck to you, Momotaro!” cried the old man and the old woman.“Sayonara! Sayonara!” cried Momotaro.He hadn’t gone far when he fell in with a monkey.“Kia! Kia!” says the monkey. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island for an adventure.”“What have you got in the wallet hanging at your girdle?”“Now you’re asking me something,” says Momotaro; “sure, I’ve some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”“Give me one,” says the monkey, “and I will go with you.”So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the monkey, and the two of them jogged on together. They hadn’t gone far when they fell in with a pheasant.“Ken! Ken!” said the pheasant. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island for an adventure.”“What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?”“I’ve got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”“Give me one,” says the pheasant, “and I will go with you.”So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the pheasant, and the three of them jogged on together.They hadn’t gone far when they fell in with a dog.“Bow! Wow! Wow!” says the dog. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island.”“What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?”“I’ve got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”“Give me one,” says the dog, “and I will go with you.”So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the dog, and the four of them jogged on together. By-and-by they came to the Ogres’ Island.“Now, brothers,” says Momotaro, “listen to my plan. The pheasant must fly over the castle gate and peck the Ogres. The monkey must climb over the castle wall and pinch the Ogres. The dog and I will break the bolts and bars. He will bite the Ogres, and I will fight the Ogres.”Then there was the great battle.Japanese Fairy tale Series, 1 of 16. Griffiin, Farran and Co. Unknown author and illustrator. Published around the 1890’s.The pheasant flew over the castle gate: “Ken! Ken! Ken!”Momotaro broke the bolts and bars, and the dog leapt into the castle courtyard. “Bow! Wow! Wow!”The brave companions fought till sundown and overcame the Ogres. Those that were left alive they took prisoners and bound with cords—a wicked lot they were.“Now, brothers,” says Momotaro, “bring out the Ogres’ treasure.”So they did.The treasure was worth having, indeed. There were magic jewels there, and caps and coats to make you invisible. There was gold and silver, and jade and coral, and amber and tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl.“Here’s riches for all,” says Momotaro. “Choose, brothers, and take your fill.”“Kia! Kia!” says the monkey. “Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.”“Ken! Ken!” says the pheasant. “Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.”“Bow! Wow! Wow!” says the dog. “Thanks, my dear Lord Momotaro.”
Near Constantinople there lived a man who knew no other occupation but that of catching birds; his neighbours called him the birdcatcher. Some he used to sell, others served him for food, and thus he maintained himself. One day he caught a crow, and wanted to let it go, but then he had nothing to take home. ‘If I can’t catch anything to-day, I’ll take my children the crow, that they may amuse themselves; and they have no other birds at hand.’ So he intended, and so he did. His wife, on seeing the crow, said: ‘What mischief have you brought me? Wring the worthless thing’s neck!’ The crow, on hearing that sentence, besought the birdcatcher to let her go, and promised to be always at his service. ‘I will bring birds to you; through me you will become prosperous.’ ‘Even if you’re lying, it’s no great loss,’ said the birdcatcher to himself, and set the crow at liberty.On the morrow the birdcatcher went out birdcatching as usual, and the crow kept her word; she brought him two nightingales; he caught them both, and took them home. The nightingales were not long with the birdcatcher, for the grand vizier heard of them, sent for the birdcatcher, took the two nightingales from him, and placed them in the new mosque. The nightingales were able to sing sweetly and agreeably; the people collected in front of the mosque and listened to their beautiful singing; and the wonder came to the ears of the emperor. The emperor summoned the grand vizier, took the birds from him, and inquired whence he had got them. When the emperor had thought the matter over, he sent his cavasses, and they summoned the birdcatcher. ‘It’s no joke to go before the emperor! I know why he summons me; no half torture will be mine. I am guilty of nothing, I owe nothing; but the emperor’s will, that’s my crime!’ said the birdcatcher, and went into the emperor’s presence all pale with fear.Vintage illustration of a nightingale. Circa 1890’s.‘Birdcatcher, sirrah! are you the catcher of those nightingales which were at the new mosque.’ ‘Padishah! both father and mother! where your slipper is, there is my face!–I am.’ ‘Sirrah!’ again said the emperor, ‘I wish you to find their mother; doubtless your reward will be forthcoming. But do you hear? You may be quite sure of it; if you don’t, there will be no head on your shoulders. I’m not joking.’ Now the poor fellow went out of the emperor’s presence, and how he got home he didn’t know; a good two hours afterwards he came to himself and began to lament. ‘I’m a fool! I thought my trade led no-whither, and not to misfortune for me; but now see! To find the mother of the birds–none but a fool could imagine it–and to catch her!’To this lamentation there was neither limit nor end. It was getting dark, and his wife summoned him to supper; just then the crow was at the window: ‘What’s this?’ the crow asked. What are these lamentations? What’s the distress?’ ‘Let me alone; don’t add to my torture; I’m done for owing to you!’ said the birdcatcher, and told her all, what it was and how it was. ‘That’s easy,’ answered she; ‘go to the emperor to-morrow, and ask for a thousand loads of wheat; then pile up the corn in one heap, and I will inform the birds that the emperor gives them a feast; they will all assemble; their mother, too, will doubtless come; the one with regard to which I give you a sign is she; bring a cage, put the two nightingales in it; the mother, seeing her two young birds, will fly up; let your snare be ready, and then we shall find and catch her.’As the crow instructed him, so he did. The emperor gave him the corn; he feasted the birds, caught the mother of the nightingales, and took her to the emperor. He received a handsome reward, but he would gladly have gone without such reward when he remembered how many tears he had shed. The crow, too, received a reward, for she persuaded the birdcatcher to give his wife a good beating, which he did, to the satisfaction of the crow, in her presence.Time after time, behold some of the emperor’s cavasses! ‘Come, the emperor summons you!’ sounded from the door. ‘A new misfortune! a new sorrow!’ thought the birdcatcher in his heart, and went before the emperor. Do you hear, sirrah? Just now I paid you a good recompense,now a greater one awaits you. I wish you to seek the mistress of those birds, otherwise, valah! bilah! your head will be in danger! Do you understand me?’ At these words of the emperor the birdcatcher either could not or dared not utter a word; he shrugged his shoulders and went out of his presence. As he went home he talked to himself weeping: ‘I see that he is determined to destroy me, and some devil has put it into his head to torture me first.’On arriving at home he found his crow at the window: ‘Has some misfortune again occurred to you?’ ‘Don’t ask,’ replied the birdcatcher; ‘one still blacker and more miserable!’ and told her all in detail, what it was and how it was. ‘Don’t trouble your head much about that,’ said the crow. ‘Be quick; ask the emperor for a boat full of all manner of wares. Then we will push off on the deep sea; when people hear that the emperor’s agent is bringing wares, the people will assemble, and that lady is sure to come; the one on which I perch is she; up anchor and off with the boat!’ This the birdcatcher remembered well. What he asked of the emperor, that he gave him, and he pushed the boat over the sea; his bringing wares for sale went from mouth to mouth; people came and purchased the wares.At last came the mistress of the birds also, and began to examine the wares; the crow perched on her shoulder; the anchor was raised, and in a short time the birdcatcher brought the boat to under the emperor’s quay. When the birdcatcher brought her before the emperor, the emperor was astounded. He didn’t know which to admire most, the birdcatcher’s cleverness or her beauty. Her beauty overpowered the emperor’s mind; he rewarded the birdcatcher handsomely, and placed the sultana in his house. ‘You are the dearest to me of all,’ said the emperor several times to her; ‘if I were to banish all the sultanas, you should never go out of my seraglio.’The birdcatcher was again in evil case. The new sultana was in a perpetual state of irritation, for it was poor luck to be obliged to be affectionate to an elderly longbeard. The emperor comforted her, and asked her what failed her, when she had everything in abundance with him. A woman’s revenge is worse than a cat’s. Not daring to tell the emperor the truth, she wanted to revenge herself on the poor birdcatcher. ‘Dear Padishah, I had a valuable ring on my hand when that birdcatcher deluded me into the boat, and pushed it from the shore. I began to wring my hands in distress, the ring broke, and one half fell into the sea, just where it was my hap to be. But, dear sultan, if I am a little dear to you, send that birdcatcher, let him seek that half for me, that I may unite it to this one.’ ‘All shall be done,’ said the emperor; and the cavasses soon brought the birdcatcher.‘My son,’ said the emperor, ‘if you do not intend to lose my love and favour, hearken to me once more. At the place where you captured that lady, she broke a ring; it fell into the sea. I know that you can do so–find her that half; your reward will not fail; otherwise, you know . . . .’ When the poor fellow got home, a fit of laughter seized him from distress. ‘I knew that the devil was teaching him how to torment and torture me before he put me to death. If hell were to open, all the devils wouldn’t find it!’ ‘What’s the matter, friend?’ said the crow. ‘Till now you were weeping and complaining, and now in a rage you are laughing.’ He told her all–what it was, and how it was. ‘Don’t fret yourself,’ continued the crow. ‘Have you given your wife a good thrashing? I wish you to give her a good hiding again, when we go down to the sea. And now come, ask the emperor for a thousand barrels of oil.’ The emperor had stores of oil and felt; he gave him as much as he required. Everybody thought that he was going to trade with the oil. When he arrived at the place where he captured the young lady, the crow gave the word of command, and they poured out all the oil into the sea. The sea became violently agitated, the crow darted in, and found the missing fragment of the ring. The bird-catcher took the boat back thence under the emperor’s palace, and delivered the ring to the emperor, he passed it on to the lady, and she fitted it to the other half. Both she and the emperor were astonished at the birdcatcher’s cleverness, commended him, and sent him home with a present.The emperor wished by every means to induce the young lady to marry him, and to have a formal wedding. She for a long time declined, but at last said: ‘If it is your will, I consent, but only on condition that before our wedding you ‘destroy that birdcatcher.’ The emperor now found himself between two fires. It was agony to destroy his benefactor, it was worse agony not to he able to withstand his heart, and to give up the love of the young lady. Love is eternal, and is often stronger even than truth. He summoned the birdcatcher, commended him for having so often fulfilled his will, and told him that he deserved to sit in the grand vizier’s seat. . . . ‘But there is nothing else for it, but you must go home, take leave of your wife, children, and friends, of whom I will undertake the care; in the afternoon come; you must of necessity jump into the fire.’He went home, and the crow came to meet him. He told her all that was to be done with him in the afternoon, and said to her: If you do not help me as usual now, I am done for, not through my fault, nor through the emperor’s, but owing to you.’ The crow informed him what to do, but before he went, he was to give his wife a thoroughly good beating. His wife departed this life from so many blows. A fire was flaming before the great mosque, the Turks came out of the mosque, the emperor came, the people swarmed round the fire The birdcatcher came cheerfully before the emperor.Everyone deemed him a malefactor. ‘Fortunate Padishah, it is your pleasure to burn me to death. I am happy to be able to be a sacrifice for you. It has occurred to my mind, I am anxious to have a ride on a good horse: permit me so to do before I jump into the fire.’ The emperor smiled, and ordered his best horse to be brought for him. He mounted, and made the horse gallop well; when the horse sweated, he dismounted, anointed himself with the horse’s foam, remounted, darted up to the fire, then dismounted, and darted into the fire. The people looked on; five times, six times did he cross the flames, sprang out of the fire, and stood before the emperor as a youth of twenty years of age, sound, young, goodly, and handsome. The people cried: ‘Mercy, emperor! He has fulfilled his penalty.’ And the emperor graciously pardoned him. The emperor now longed to become young and handsome also. He made the birdcatcher grand vizier, merely that he might tell him the secret. He said to him: ‘My lord, it is easy. Take a good horse, gallop about an hour as I did, dismount when the horse sweats, anoint yourself with his perspiration, jump into the fire, and you will come out such as I am.’Friday dawned; the emperor’s best horse was saddled for him; everybody thought that he was going to the mosque. A fire was burning furiously in front of the mosque. The people said: ‘There’s somebody going to jump in again,’ and they were under no delusion. The emperor darted up to the fire all alone, the people looked on to see what was going to happen. The emperor dismounted with great speed, and sprang into the fire. . . . The people crowded to rescue the emperor–’twas all in vain. The emperor was burned to death. ‘He was crazy!’ shouted the chief men and soldiers. They conducted the birdcatcher into the mosque, and girt him with the emperor’s sword. Then the birdcatcher became emperor, the damsel he selected sultana, and the crow the chief lady at court.
There was once a tailor, who was a quarrelsome fellow, and his wife, who was good, industrious, and pious, never could please him. Whatever she did, he was not satisfied, but grumbled and scolded, and knocked her about and beat her. As the authorities at last heard of it, they had him summoned, and put in prison in order to make him better. He was kept for a while on bread and water, and then set free again. He was forced, however, to promise not to beat his wife any more, but to live with her in peace, and share joy and sorrow with her, as married people ought to do. All went on well for a time, but then he fell into his old ways, and was surly and quarrelsome. And because he dared not beat her, he would seize her by the hair and tear it out. The woman escaped from him, and sprang out into the yard, but he ran after her with his yard-measure and scissors, and chased her about, and threw the yard-measure and scissors at her, and whatever else came his way. When he hit her he laughed, and when he missed her, he stormed and swore. This went on so long that the neighbours came to the wife’s assistance. The tailor was again summoned before the magistrates, and reminded of his promise. “Dear gentlemen,” said he, “I have kept my word, I have not beaten her, but have shared joy and sorrow with her.” “How can that be,” said the judge, “when she continually brings such heavy complaints against you?” “I have not beaten her, but just because she looked so strange I wanted to comb her hair with my hand; she, however, got away from me, and left me quite spitefully. Then I hurried after her, and in order to bring her back to her duty, I threw at her as a well-meant admonition whatever came readily to hand. I have shared joy and sorrow with her also, for whenever I hit her I was full of joy, and she of sorrow, and if I missed her, then she was joyful, and I sorry.” The judges were not satisfied with this answer, but gave him the reward he deserved.
Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who ruled over a country so small that you could easily walk round it in one day. They were both very good, simple people; not very wise, perhaps, but anxious to be kind to everybody; and this was often a mistake, for the king allowed all his subjects to talk at once, and offer advice upon the government of the kingdom as well as upon private matters. And the end of it all was, that it was very difficult to get any laws made, and, still more, to get anyone to obey them.Now, no traveller ever passed through the kingdom without inquiring how it came to be so small. And this was the reason. As soon as Petaldo (for that was the king’s name) had been born, his father and mother betrothed him to the niece of their friend the fairy Gangana — if she should ever have one. But as the years passed on, and Gangana was still without a niece, the young prince forgot all about his destined bride, and when he was twenty-five he secretly married the beautiful daughter of a rich farmer, with whom he had fallen violently in love.When the fairy heard the news she fell into a violent rage, and hurried off to tell the king. The old man thought in his heart that his son had waited quite long enough; but he did not dare to say so, lest some dreadful spell might be thrown over them all, and they should be changed into birds or snakes, or, worst of all, into stones. So, much against his will, he was obliged to disinherit the young man, and to forbid him to come to court. Indeed, he would have been a beggar had it not been for the property his wife had had given her by the farmer, which the youth obtained permission to erect into a kingdom.Most princes would have been very angry at this treatment, especially as the old king soon died, and the queen was delighted to reign in his place. But Petaldo was a contented young man, and was quite satisfied with arranging his tiny court on the model of his father’s, and having a lord chamberlain, and a high steward and several gentlemen in attendance; while the young queen appointed her own ladies-in-waiting and maids of honour. He likewise set up a mint to coin money, and chose a seneschal as head of the five policemen who kept order in the capital and punished the boys who were caught in the act of throwing stones at the palace windows.The first to fill this important office was the young king’s father-in-law, an excellent man of the name of Caboche. He was much beloved by everyone, and so sensible that he was not at all vain at rising at once to the dignity of seneschal, when he had only been a common farmer, but went about his fields every day as usual. This conduct so struck his king that very soon he never did anything without consulting him.Each morning Caboche and his son-in-law had breakfast together, and when they had finished, the king took out of his iron chest great bundles of state papers, which he desired to talk over with his seneschal. Sometimes they would spend two hours at least in deciding these important matters, but more often after a few minutes Caboche would say:‘Excuse me, sire, but your majesty does not understand this affair in the least. Leave it to me, and I will settle it.’‘But what am I to do, then ?’ asked the king. And his minister answered:‘Oh, you can rule your wife, and see after your fruit garden. You will find that those two things will take up all your time.’‘Well, perhaps you are right,’ the king replied; secretly glad to be rid of the cares of government. But though Caboche did all the work, Petaldo never failed to appear on grand occasions, in his royal mantle of red linen, holding a sceptre of gilded wood. Meanwhile he passed his mornings in studying books, from which he learned the proper seasons to plant his fruit trees, and when they should be pruned; and his afternoons in his garden, where he put his knowledge into practice. In the evening he played cards with his father-in-law, and supped in public with the queen, and by ten o’clock everybody in the palace was fast asleep.The queen, on her side, was quite as happy as her husband. She loved to be in her dairy, and nobody in the kingdom could make such delicious cheeses. But however busy she might be, she never forgot to bake a little barley cake, and make a tiny cream cheese, and to put them under a particular rose-tree in the garden. If you had asked her whom they were for, and where they went to, she could not have told you, but would have said that on the night of her marriage a fairy had appeared to her in a dream, and had bidden her to perform this ceremony.After the king and the queen had six children, a little boy was born, with a small red cap on his head, so that he was quite different from his brothers and sisters, and his parents loved Cadichon better than any of them.The years went on, and the children were growing big, when, one day, after Gillette the queen had finished baking her cake, and had turned it out on a plate, a lovely blue mouse crept up the leg of the table and ran to the plate. Instead of chasing it away, as most women would have done, the queen pretended not to notice what the mouse was doing, and was much surprised to see the little creature pick up the cake and carry it off to the chimney. She sprang forwards to stop it, when, suddenly, both the mouse and cake vanished, and in their place stood an old woman only a foot high, whose clothes hung in rags about her. Taking up a sharp pointed iron stick, she drew on the earthen floor some strange signs, uttering seven cries as she did so, and murmuring something in a low voice, among which the queen was sure she caught the words, ‘faith,’ ‘wisdom,’ ‘happiness.’ Then, seizing the kitchen broom, she whirled it three times round her head, and vanished. Immediately there arose a great noise in the next room, and on opening the door, the queen beheld three large cockchafers, each one with a princess between its feet, while the princes were seated on the backs of three swallows. In the middle was a car formed of a single pink shell, and drawn by two robin red-breasts, and in this car Cadichon was sitting by the side of the blue mouse, who was dressed in a splendid mantle of black velvet fastened under her chin. Before the queen had recovered from her surprise, cockchafers, red-breasts, mouse and children had all flown, singing, to the window, and disappeared from view.The loud shrieks of the queen brought her husband and father running into the room, and when at last they made out from her broken sentences what had really happened, they hastily snatched up some stout sticks that were lying about and set off to the rescue — one going in one direction and the other in another.For at least an hour the queen sat sobbing where they had left her, when at last she was roused by a piece of folded paper falling at her feet. She stooped and picked it up eagerly, hoping that it might contain some news of her lost children. It was very short, but when she had read the few words, Gillette was comforted, for it bade her take heart, as they were well and happy under the protection of a fairy. ‘On your own faith and prudence depend your happiness,’ ended the writer. ‘It is I who have all these years eaten the food you placed under the rose-tree, and some day I shall reward you for it. “Everything comes to him who knows how to wait,” is the advice given by, — The Fairy of the Fields.’Then the queen rose up, and bathed her face, and combed her shining hair; and as she turned away. from her mirror she beheld a linnet sitting on her bed. No one would have known that it was anything but a common linnet, and yesterday the queen would have thought so too. But this morning so many wonderful things had happened that she did not doubt for a moment that the writer of the letter was before her.‘Pretty linnet,’ said she, ‘I will try to do all you wish. Only give me, I pray you, now and then, news of my little Cadichon.’And the linnet flapped her wings and sang, and flew away. So the queen knew that she had guessed rightly, and thanked her in her heart.By-and-by the king and his seneschal returned, hungry and tired with their fruitless search. They were amazed and rather angry to find the queen, whom they had left weeping, quite cheerful. Could she really care for her children so little and have forgotten them so soon ? What could have caused this sudden change ? But to all their questions Gillette would only answer:‘Everything comes to him who knows how to wait.’‘That is true,’ replied her father; ‘and, after all, your majesty must remember that the revenues of your kingdom would hardly bear the cost of seven princes and princesses brought up according to their rank. Be grateful, then, to those who have relieved you of the burden.’‘You are right ! You are always right !’ cried the king, whose face once more beamed with smiles. And life at the palace went on as before, till Petaldo received a piece of news which disturbed him greatly.The queen, his mother, who had for some time been a widow, suddenly made up her mind to marry again, and her choice had fallen on the young king of the Green Isles, who was younger than her own son, and, besides, handsome and fond of pleasure, which Petaldo was not. Now the grandmother, foolish though she was in many respects, had the sense to see that a woman as old and as plain as she was, could hardly expect a young man to fall in love with her, and that, if this was to happen, it would be needful to find some spell which would bring back her youth and beauty. Of course, the fairy Gangana could have wrought the change with one wave of her wand; but unluckily the two were no longer friends, because the fairy had tried hard to persuade the queen to declare her niece heiress to the crown, which the queen refused to do. Naturally, therefore, it was no use asking the help of Gangana to enable the queen to take a second husband, who would be certain to succeed her; and messengers were sent all over the neighbouring kingdoms, seeking to find a witch or a fairy who would work the wished-for miracle. None, however, could be found with sufficient skill, and at length the queen saw that if ever the king of the Green Isles was to be her husband she must throw herself on the mercy of the fairy Gangana.The fairy’s wrath was great when she heard the queen’s story, but she knew very well that, as the king of the Green Isles had spent all his money, he would probably be ready to marry even an old woman, like her friend, in order to get more. So, in order to gain time, she hid her feelings, and told the queen that in three days the spell would be accomplished.Her words made the queen so happy that twenty years seemed to fall from her at once, and she counted, not only the hours, but the minutes to the appointed time. It came at last, and the fairy stood before her in a long robe of pink and silver, held up by a tiny brown dwarf, who carried a small box under his arm. The queen received her with all the marks of respect that she could think of, and at the request of Gangana, ordered the doors and windows of the great hall to be closed, and her attendants to retire, so that she and her guest might be quite alone. Then, opening the box, which was presented to her on one knee by the dwarf, the fairy took from it a small vellum book with silver clasps, a wand that lengthened out as you touched it, and a crystal bottle filled with very clear green water. She next bade the queen sit on a seat in the middle of the room, and the dwarf to stand opposite her, after which she stooped down and drew three circles round them with a golden rod, touched each of them thrice with her wand, and sprinkled the liquid over both. Gradually the queen’s big features began to grow smaller and her face fresher, while at the same time the dwarf became about twice as tall as he had been before. This sight, added to the blue flames which sprang up from the three circles, so frightened the queen that she fainted in her chair, and when she recovered, both the page and the fairy had vanished.At first she felt vaguely puzzled, not remembering clearly what had happened; then it all came back to her, and jumping up she ran to the nearest mirror. Oh ! how happy she was ! Her long nose and her projecting teeth had become things of beauty, her hair was thick and curly, and bright gold. The fairy had indeed fulfilled her promise ! But, in her hurry and pleasure, the queen never noticed that she had not been changed into a beautiful young lady, but into a very tall little girl of eight or nine years old ! Instead of her magnificent velvet dress, edged with fur and embroidered in gold, she wore a straight muslin frock, with a little lace apron, while her hair, which was always combed and twisted and fastened with diamond pins, hung in curls down her back. But if she had only known, something besides this had befallen her, for except as regards her love for the king of the Green Isles, her mind as well as her face had become that of a child, and this her courtiers were aware of, if she was not. Of course they could not imagine what had occurred, and did not know how to behave themselves, till the chief minister set them the example by ordering his wife and daughters to copy the queen’s clothes and way of speaking. Then, in a short time, the whole court, including the men, talked and dressed like children, and played with dolls, or little tin soldiers, while at the state dinners nothing was seen but iced fruits, or sweet cakes made in the shape of birds and horses. But whatever she might be doing, the queen hardly ceased talking about the king of the Green Isles, whom she always spoke of as ‘my little husband,’ and as weeks passed on, and he did not come, she began to get very cross and impatient, so that her courtiers kept away from her as much as they could. By this time, too, they were growing tired of pretending to be children, and whispered their intention of leaving the palace and taking service under a neighbouring sovereign, when, one day, a loud blast of trumpets announced the arrival of the long-expected guest. In an instant all was smiles again, and in spite of the strictest rules of court etiquette, the queen insisted on receiving the young king at the bottom of the stairs. Unfortunately, in her haste, she fell over her dress, and rolled down several steps, screaming like a child, from fright. She was not really much hurt, though she had scratched her nose and bruised her forehead, but she was obliged to be carried to her room and have her face bathed in cold water. Still, in spite of this, she gave strict orders that the king should be brought to her presence the moment he entered the palace.A shrill blast outside her door sent a twinge of pain through the queen’s head, which by this time was aching badly; but in her joy at welcoming her future husband she paid no heed to it. Between two lines of courtiers, bowing low, the young king advanced quickly; but at the sight of the queen and her bandages, broke out into such violent fits of laughter that he was forced to leave the room, and even the palace.When the queen had recovered from the vexation caused by the king’s rude behaviour, she bade her attendants to hasten after him and fetch him back, but no promises or entreaties would persuade him to return. This of course made the queen’s temper even worse than it was before, and a plot was set on foot to deprive her of the crown, which would certainly have succeeded had not the fairy Gangana, who had only wished to prevent her marriage, restored her to her proper shape. But, far from thanking her friend for this service, the sight of her old face in the mirror filled her with despair; and from that day she hated Gangana with a deadly hatred.And where were Petaldo’s children all this while ? Why, in the island of Bambini, where they had play-fellows to their hearts’ content, and plenty of fairies to take care of them all. But out of all the seven princes and princesses whom the queen had seen carried off through the window, there was only Cadichon who was good and obedient; the other six were so rude and quarrelsome that they could get no one to play with them, and at last, as a punishment, the fairy changed them all into marionettes, till they should learn to behave better.Now, in an unlucky moment, the Fairy of the Fields determined to visit her friend the queen of the fairies, who lived in a distant island, in order to consult her as to what was to become of Cadichon.As she was entering the Hall of Audience, Gangana was leaving it, and sharp words were exchanged between them. After her enemy had flown off in a rage, the Fairy of the Fields poured out the whole story of Gangana’s wickedness to the queen, and implored her counsel.‘Be comforted,’ answered the fairy queen. ‘For a while she must work her will, and at this moment she is carrying off Cadichon to the island where she still holds her niece captive. But should she make an evil use of the power she has, her punishment will be swift and great. And now I will give you this precious phial. Guard it carefully, for the liquid it contains will cause you to become invisible, and safe from the piercing eyes of all fairies. Against the eyes of mortals it has no charm !’With a heart somewhat lighter, the Fairy of the Fields returned to her own island, and, the better to protect the six new marionettes from the wicked fairy, she sprinkled them with a few drops of the liquid, only avoiding just the tips of their noses, so that she might be able to know them again. Then she set off for the kingdom of Petaldo, which she found in a state of revolt, because for the first time since he had ascended the throne he had dared to impose a tax. Indeed, matters might have ended in a war, or in cutting off the king’s head, had not the fairy discovered a means of contenting everybody, and of whispering anew to the queen that all was well with her children, for she dared not tell her of the loss of Cadichon.And what had become of Cadichon ? Well, the Fairy of the Fields had found out — by means of her books, which had told her — that the poor little boy had been placed by Gangana in an enchanted island, round which flowed a rapid river, sweeping rocks and trees in its current. Besides the river, the island was guarded by twenty-four enormous dragons, breathing flames, and forming a rampart of fire which it seemed as if none could pass.The Fairy of the Fields knew all this, but she had a brave heart, and determined that by some means or other she would overcome all obstacles, and rescue Cadichon from the power of Gangana. So, taking with her the water of invisibility, she sprinkled it over her, and mounting her favourite winged lizard, set out for the island. When it appeared in sight she wrapped herself in her fireproof mantle; then, bidding the lizard return home, she slipped past the dragons and entered the island.Scarcely had she done so than she beheld Gangana approaching her, talking loudly and angrily to a genius who flew by her side. From what she said, the fairy learned that Petaldo’s mother, the old queen, had died of rage on hearing of the marriage of the king of the Green Isles to a young and lovely bride, and instead of leaving her kingdom to Gangana, had bequeathed it to one of the children of her son Petaldo.‘But all the trouble I have had with that foolish old woman shall not go for nothing,’ cried Gangana. ‘Go at once to my stables, and fetch out the strongest and swiftest griffins you can find in the stalls, and harness them to the yellow coach. Drive this, with all the speed you may, to the Isle of Bambini, and carry off the six children of Petaldo that are still there. I will see to Petaldo and Gillette myself. When I have got them all safe here I will change the parents into rabbits and the children into dogs. As for Cadichon, I have not quite made up my mind what I shall do with him.’The Fairy of the Fields did not wait to hear more. No time was to be lost in seeking the help of the fairy queen if Petaldo and his family were to be saved from this dreadful doom. So, without waiting to summon her lizard, she flew across the island and past the dragons till her feet once more touched the ground again. But at that instant a black cloud rolled over her, loud thunder rent the air, and the earth rocked beneath her. Then wild lightnings lit up the sky, and by their flashes she saw the four-and-twenty dragons fighting together, uttering shrieks and yells, till the whole earth must have heard the uproar. Trembling with terror, the fairy stood rooted to the spot; and when day broke, island, torrent, and dragons had vanished, and in their stead was a barren rock. On the summit of the rock stood a black ostrich, and on its back were seated Cadichon, and the little niece of the fairy Gangana, for whose sake she had committed so many evil deeds. While the Fairy of the Fields was gazing in surprise at this strange sight, the ostrich spread its wings and flew off in the direction of the Fortunate Isle, and, followed unseen by the good fairy, entered the great hall where the queen was sitting on her throne.Proud and exultant was Gangana in her new shape, for, by all the laws of fairydom, if she succeeded in laying Cadichon at the feet of the queen, and received him back from her, he was in her power for life, and she might do with him as she would. This the good fairy knew well, and pressed on with all her strength, for the dreadful events of the night had almost exhausted her. But, with a mighty effort, she snatched the children away from the back of the ostrich, and placed them on the lap of the queen.With a scream of baffled rage the ostrich turned away, and Gangana stood in her place, waiting for the doom which she had brought upon herself.‘You have neglected all my warnings,’ said the queen, speaking more sternly than any fairy had ever heard her; ‘and my sentence is that during two hundred years you lose all your privileges as a fairy, and under the form of an ostrich shall become the slave of the lowest and wickedest of the genii whom you have made your friends. As for these children, I shall keep them with me, and they shall be brought up at my court.’And so they were, until they grew up and were old enough to be married. Then the Fairy of the Fields took them back to the kingdom of the old queen, where Petaldo was now reigning. But the cares of state proved too heavy both for him and Gillette, after the quiet life they had led for so many years, and they were rejoiced to be able to lay aside their crowns, and place them on the heads of Cadichon and his bride, who was as good as she was beautiful, though she was the niece of the wicked. Gangana ! And so well had Cadichon learned the lessons taught him at the court of the fairy queen, that never since the kingdom was a kingdom had the people been so well governed or so happy. And they went about the streets and the fields smiling with joy at the difference between the old times and the new, and whispering softly to each other:‘Everything comes to him who knows how to wait.’
In those days there was a Piegan chief named Owl Bear. He was a great chief, very brave and generous. One night he had a dream: he saw many dead bodies of the enemy lying about, scalped, and he knew that he must go to war. So he called out for a feast, and after the people had eaten, he said:—“I had a strong dream last night. I went to war against the Snakes, and killed many of their warriors. So the signs are good, and I feel that I must go. Let us have a big party now, and I will be the leader. We will start to-morrow night.”Then he told two old men to go out in the camp and shout the news, so that all might know. A big party was made up. Two hundred men, they say, went with this chief to war. The first night they travelled only a little way, for they were not used to walking, and soon got tired.In the morning the chief got up early and went and made a sacrifice, and when he came back to the others, some said, “Come now, tell us your dream of this night.”“I dreamed good,” said Owl Bear. “I had a good dream. We will have good luck.”But many others said they had bad dreams. They saw blood running from their bodies.Night came, and the party started on, travelling south, and keeping near the foot-hills; and when daylight came, they stopped in thick pine woods and built war lodges. They put up poles as for a lodge, and covered them very thick with pine boughs, so they could build fires and cook, and no one would see the light and smoke; and they all ate some of the food they carried, and then went to sleep.Again the chief had a good dream, but the others all had bad dreams, and some talked about turning back; but Owl Bear laughed at them, and when night came, all started on. So they travelled for some nights, and all kept dreaming bad except the chief. He always had good dreams. One day after a sleep, a person again asked Owl Bear if he dreamed good. “Yes,” he replied. “I have again dreamed of good luck.”“We still dream bad,” the person said, “and now some of us are going to turn back. We will go no further, for bad luck is surely ahead.” “Go back! go back!” said Owl Bear. “I think you are cowards; I want no cowards with me.” They did not speak again. Many of them turned around, and started north, toward home.Two more days’ travel. Owl Bear and his warriors went on, and then another party turned back, for they still had bad dreams. All the men now left with him were his relations. All the others had turned back.They travelled on, and travelled on, always having bad dreams, until they came close to the Elk River. Then the oldest relation said, “Come, my chief, let us all turn back. We still have bad dreams. We cannot have good luck.”“No,” replied Owl Bear, “I will not turn back.”Then they were going to seize him and tie his hands, for they had talked of this before. They thought to tie him and make him go back with them. Then the chief got very angry. He put an arrow on his bow, and said: “Do not touch me. You are my relations; but if any of you try to tie me, I will kill you. Now I am ashamed. My relations are cowards and will turn back. I have told you I have always dreamed good, and that we would have good luck. Now I don’t care; I am covered with shame. I am going now to the Snake camp and will give them my body. I am ashamed. Go! go! and when you get home put on women’s dresses. You are no longer men.”They said no more. They turned back homeward, and the chief was all alone. His heart was very sad as he travelled on, and he was much ashamed, for his relations had left him.Night was coming on. The sun had set and rain was beginning to fall. Owl Bear looked around for some place where he could sleep dry. Close by he saw a hole in the rocks. He got down on his hands and knees and crept in. Here it was very dark. He could see nothing, so he crept very slowly, feeling as he went. All at once his hand touched something strange. He felt of it. It was a person’s foot, and there was a moccasin on it. He stopped, and sat still. Then he felt a little further. Yes, it was a person’s leg. He could feel the cowskin legging. Now he did not know what to do. He thought perhaps it was a dead person; and again, he thought it might be one of his relations, who had become ashamed and turned back after him.Pretty soon he put his hand on the leg again and felt along up. He touched the person’s belly. It was warm. He felt of the breast, and could feel it rise and fall as the breath came and went; and the heart was beating fast. Still the person did not move. Maybe he was afraid. Perhaps he thought that was a ghost feeling of him.Owl Bear now knew this person was not dead. He thought he would try if he could learn who the man was, for he was not afraid. His heart was sad. His people and his relations had left him, and he had made up his mind to give his body to the Snakes. So he began and felt all over the man,—of his face, hair, robe, leggings, belt, weapons; and by and by he stopped feeling of him. He could not tell whether it was one of his people or not.Pretty soon the strange person sat up and felt all over Owl Bear; and when he had finished, he took the Piegan’s hand and opened it and held it up, waving it from side to side, saying by signs, “Who are you?”Owl Bear put his closed hand against the person’s cheek and rubbed it; he said in signs, “Piegan!” and then he asked the person who he was. A finger was placed against his breast and moved across it zigzag. It was the sign for “Snake.”“Hai yah!” thought Owl Bear, “a Snake, my enemy.” For a long time he sat still, thinking. By and by he drew his knife from his belt and placed it in the Snake’s hand, and signed, “Kill me!” He waited. He thought soon his heart would be cut. He wanted to die. Why live? His people had left him.Then the Snake took Owl Bear’s hand and put a knife in it and motioned that Owl Bear should cut his heart, but the Piegan would not do it. He lay down, and the Snake lay down beside him. Maybe they slept. Likely not.So the night went and morning came. It was light, and they crawled out of the cave, and talked a long time together by signs. Owl Bear told the Snake where he had come from, how his party had dreamed bad and left him, and that he was going alone to give his body to the Snakes.Then the Snake said: “I was going to war, too. I was going against thePiegans. Now I am done. Are you a chief?”“I am the head chief,” replied Owl Bear. “I lead. All the others follow.”“I am the same as you,” said the Snake. “I am the chief. I like you. You are brave. You gave me your knife to kill you with. How is your heart? Shall the Snakes and the Piegans make peace?”“Your words are good,” replied Owl Bear. “I am glad.”“How many nights will it take you to go home and come back here with your people?” asked the Snake.Owl Bear thought and counted. “In twenty-five nights,” he replied, “thePiegans will camp down by that creek.”“My trail,” said the Snake, “goes across the mountains. I will try to be here in twenty-five nights, but I will camp with my people just behind that first mountain. When you get here with the Piegans, come with one of your wives and stay all night with me. In the morning the Snakes will move and put up their lodges beside the Piegans.”“As you say,” replied the chief, “so it shall be done.” Then they built a fire and cooked some meat and ate together.“I am ashamed to go home,” said Owl Bear. “I have taken no horses, no scalps. Let me cut off your side locks?”“Take them,” said the Snake.Owl Bear cut off the chiefs braids close to his head, and then the Snake cut off the Piegan’s braids. Then they exchanged clothes and weapons and started out, the Piegan north, the Snake south.“Owl Bear has come! Owl Bear has come!” the people were shouting.The warriors rushed to his lodge. Whish! how quickly it was filled!Hundreds stood outside, waiting to hear the news.For a long time the chief did not speak. He was still angry with his people. An old man was talking, telling the news of the camp. Owl Bear did not look at him. He ate some food and rested. Many were in the lodge who had started to war with him. They were now ashamed. They did not speak, either, but kept looking at the fire. After a long time the chief said: “I travelled on alone. I met a Snake. I took his scalp and clothes, and his weapons. See, here is his scalp!” And he held up the two braids of hair.No one spoke, but the chief saw them nudge each other and smile a little; and soon they went out and said to one another: “What a lie! That is not an enemy’s scalp; there is no flesh on it He has robbed some dead person.”Some one told the chief what they said, but he only laughed and replied:—“I do not care. They were too much afraid even to go on and rob a dead person. They should wear women’s dresses.”Near sunset, Owl Bear called for a horse, and rode all through camp so every one could hear, shouting out: “Listen! listen! To-morrow we move camp. We travel south. The Piegans and Snakes are going to make peace. If any one refuses to go, I will kill him. All must go.”Then an old medicine man came up to him and said: “Kyi, Owl Bear! listen to me. Why talk like this? You know we are not afraid of the Snakes. Have we not fought them and driven them out of this country? Do you think we are afraid to go and meet them? No. We will go and make peace with them as you say, and if they want to fight, we will fight. Now you are angry with those who started to war with you. Don’t be angry. Dreams belong to the Sun. He gave them to us, so that we can see ahead and know what will happen. The Piegans are not cowards. Their dreams told them to turn back. So do not be angry with them any more.”“There is truth in what you say, old man,” replied Owl Bear; “I will take your words.”In those days the Piegans were a great tribe. When they travelled, if you were with the head ones, you could not see the last ones, they were so far back. They had more horses than they could count, so they used fresh horses every day and travelled very fast. On the twenty-fourth day they reached the place where Owl Bear had told the Snake they would camp, and put up their lodges along the creek. Soon some young men came in, and said they had seen some fresh horse trails up toward the mountain.“It must be the Snakes,” said the chief; “they have already arrived, although there is yet one night.” So he called one of his wives, and getting on their horses they set out to find the Snake camp. They took the trail up over the mountain, and soon came in sight of the lodges. It was a big camp. Every open place in the valley was covered with lodges, and the hills were dotted with horses; for the Snakes had a great many more horses than the Piegans.Some of the Snakes saw the Piegans coming, and they ran to the chief, saying: “Two strangers are in sight, coming this way. What shall be done?”“Do not harm them,” replied the chief. “They are friends of mine. I have been expecting them.” Then the Snakes wondered, for the chief had told them nothing about his war trip.Now when Owl Bear had come to the camp, he asked in signs for the chiefs lodge, and they pointed him to one in the middle. It was small and old. The Piegan got off his horse, and the Snake chief came out and hugged him and kissed him, and said: “I am glad you have come to-day to my lodge. So are my people. You are tired. Enter my lodge and we will eat.” So they went inside and many of the Snakes came in, and they had a great feast.Then the Snake chief told his people how he had met the Piegan, and how brave he was, and that now they were going to make a great peace; and he sent some men to tell the people, so that they would be ready to move camp in the morning. Evening came. Everywhere people were shouting out for feasts, and the chief took Owl Bear to them. It was very late when they returned. Then the Snake had one of his wives make a bed at the back of the lodge; and when it was ready he said: “Now, my friend, there is your bed. This is now your lodge; also the woman who made the bed, she is now your wife; also everything in this lodge is yours. The parfleches, saddles, food, robes, bowls, everything is yours. I give them to you because you are my friend and a brave man.”“You give me too much,” replied Owl Bear. “I am ashamed, but I take your words. I have nothing with me but one wife. She is yours.”Next morning camp was broken early. The horses were driven in, and the Snake chief gave Owl Bear his whole band,—two hundred head, all large, powerful horses.All were now ready, and the chiefs started ahead. Close behind them were all the warriors, hundreds and hundreds, and last came the women and children, and the young men driving the loose horses. As they came in sight of the Piegan camp, all the warriors started out to meet them, dressed in their war costumes and singing the great war song. There was no wind, and the sound came across the valley and up the hill like the noise of thunder. Then the Snakes began to sing, and thus the two parties advanced. At last they met. The Piegans turned and rode beside them, and so they came to the camp. Then they got off their horses and kissed each other. Every Piegan asked a Snake into his lodge to eat and rest, and the Snake women put up their lodges beside the Piegan lodges. So the great peace was made.In Owl Bear’s lodge there was a great feast, and when they had finished he said to his people: “Here is the man whose scalp I took. Did I say I killed him? No. I gave him my knife and told him to kill me. He would not do it; and he gave me his knife, but I would not kill him. So we talked together what we should do, and now we have made peace. And now (turning to the Snake) this is your lodge, also all the things in it. My horses, too, I give you. All are yours.”So it was. The Piegan took the Snake’s wife, lodge, and horses, and the Snake took the Piegan’s, and they camped side by side. All the people camped together, and feasted each other and made presents. So the peace was made.For many days they camped side by side. The young men kept hunting, and the women were always busy drying meat and tanning robes and cowskins. Buffalo were always close, and after a while the people had all the meat and robes they could carry. Then, one day, the Snake chief said to Owl Bear: “Now, my friend, we have camped a long time together, and I am glad we have made peace. We have dug a hole in the ground, and in it we have put our anger and covered it up, so there is no more war between us. And now I think it time to go. To-morrow morning the Snakes break camp and go back south.”“Your words are good,” replied Owl Bear. “I too am glad we have made this peace. You say you must go south, and I feel lonesome. I would like you to go with us so we could camp together a long time, but as you say, so it shall be done. To-morrow you will start south. I too shall break camp, for I would be lonesome here without you; and the Piegans will start in the home direction.”The lodges were being taken down and packed. The men sat about the fireplaces, taking a last smoke together.They were now great friends. Many Snakes had married Piegan women, and many Piegans had married Snake women. At last all was ready. The great chiefs mounted their horses and started out, and soon both parties were strung out on the trail.Some young men, however, stayed behind to gamble a while. It was yet early in the morning, and by riding fast it would not take them long to catch up with their camps. All day they kept playing; and sometimes the Piegans would win, and sometimes the Snakes.It was now almost sunset. “Let us have one horse race,” they said, “and we will stop.” Each side had a good horse, and they ran their best; but they came in so close together it could not be told who won. The Snakes claimed that their horse won, and the Piegans would not allow it. So they got angry and began to quarrel, and pretty soon they began to fight and to shoot at each other, and some were killed.Since that time the Snakes and Piegans have never been at peace.
Once upon a time, ages and ages ago, so long ago that the tiger had no stripes upon his back, and the rabbit still had his tail, there was a tiger who had a farm. The farm was very much overgrown with underbrush and the owner sought a workman to clear the ground for him to plant.The tiger called all the beasts together and said to them when they had assembled, “I need a good workman at once to clear my farm of the underbrush. To the one of you who will do this work I offer an ox in payment.”The monkey was the first one to step forward and apply for the position. The tiger tried him for a little while but he was not a good workman at all. He did not work steadily enough to accomplish anything. The tiger discharged him very soon and he did not pay him.Then the tiger hired the goat to do the work. The goat worked faithfully enough but he did not have the brains to do the work well. He would clear a little of the farm in one place and then he would go away and work on another part of it. He never finished anything neatly. The tiger discharged him very soon without paying him.Next the tiger tried the armadillo. The armadillo was very strong and he did the work well. The trouble with him was that he had such a big appetite. There were a great many ants about the place and the armadillo could never pass by a sweet tender juicy ant without stopping to eat it. It was lunch time all day long with him. The tiger discharged him and sent him away without paying him anything.At last the rabbit applied for the position. The tiger laughed at him and said, “Why, little rabbit, you are too small to do the work. The monkey, the goat, and the armadillo have all failed to give satisfaction. Of course a little beast like you will fail too.”However, there were no other beasts who applied for the position, so the tiger sent for the rabbit and told him that he would try him for a little while.The rabbit worked faithfully and well, and soon he had cleared a large portion of the ground. The next day he worked just as well. The tiger thought that he had been very lucky to hire the rabbit. He got tired staying around to watch the rabbit work. The rabbit seemed to know just how to do the work anyway, without orders, so the tiger decided to go away on a hunting trip. He left his son to watch the rabbit.After the tiger had gone away, the rabbit said to the tiger’s son, “The ox your father is going to give me is marked with a white spot on his left ear and another on his right side, isn’t he?”“O, no,” replied the tiger’s son. “He is red all over with just a tiny white spot on his right ear.”The rabbit worked for a while longer and then he said, “The ox which your father is going to give me is kept by the river, isn’t he?”“Yes,” replied the tiger’s son.The rabbit had made a plan to go and get the ox without waiting to finish his work. Just as he started off he saw the tiger returning. The tiger noticed that the rabbit had not worked so well when he was away. After that, he stayed and watched the rabbit until the whole farm was cleared. Then the tiger gave the rabbit the ox as he had promised.“You must kill this ox,” he said to the rabbit, “in a place where there are neither flies nor mosquitoes.”The rabbit went away with the ox. After he had gone for some distance he thought he would kill him. He heard a cock, however, crowing in the distance and he knew that there must be a farm yard near. There would be flies, of course. He went on farther and again he thought that he would kill the ox. The ground looked moist and damp and so did the leaves on the bushes. Since the rabbit thought there would be mosquitoes there he decided not to kill the ox. He went on and on and finally he came to a high place where there was a strong breeze blowing. “There are no mosquitoes here,” he said to himself. “The place is so far removed from any habitation that there are no flies, either.” He decided to kill the ox.Just as he was ready to eat the ox, along came the tiger. “O, rabbit, you have been such a good friend of mine,” said the tiger, “and now I am so very, very hungry that all my ribs show, as you yourself can see. Will you not be a good kind rabbit and give me a piece of your ox?”The rabbit gave the tiger a piece of the ox. The tiger devoured it in the twinkling of an eye. Then he leaned back and said, “Is that all you are going to give me to eat?”The tiger looked so big and savage that the rabbit did not dare refuse to give him any more of the ox. The tiger ate and ate and ate until he had devoured that entire ox. The rabbit had been able to get only a tiny morsel of it. He was very, very angry at the tiger.One day, not long after, the rabbit went to a place not far from the tiger’s house and began cutting down big staves of wood. The tiger soon happened along and asked him what he was doing.“I’m getting ready to build a stockade around myself,” replied the rabbit. “Haven’t you heard the orders?” The tiger said that he hadn’t heard any orders.“That is very strange,” said the rabbit. “The order has gone forth that every beast shall fortify himself by building a stockade around himself. All the beasts are doing it.”The tiger became very much alarmed. “O, dear! O, dear! What shall I do,” he cried. “I don’t know how to build a stockade. I never could do it in the world. O, good rabbit! O, kind rabbit! You are such, a very good friend of mine. Couldn’t you, as a great favour, because of our long friendship, build a stockade about me before you build one around yourself?”The rabbit replied that he could not think of risking his own life by building the tiger’s fortifications first. Finally, however, he consented to do it.The rabbit cut down great quantities of long sharp sticks. He set them firmly in the ground about the tiger. He fastened others securely over the top until the tiger was completely shut in by strong bars. Then he went away and left the tiger.The tiger waited and waited for something to happen to show him the need of the fortifications. Nothing at all happened.He got very hungry and thirsty. After a while the monkey passed that way.The tiger called out, “O, monkey, has the danger passed?”The monkey did not know what danger the tiger meant, but he replied, “Yes.”Then the tiger said, “O, monkey, O, good, kind monkey, will you not please be so kind as to help me out of my stockade?”“Let the one who got you in there help you out,” replied the monkey and he went on his way.Along came the goat and the tiger called out, “O, goat, has the danger passed?”The goat did not know anything about any danger, but he replied, “Yes.”Then the tiger said, “O, goat, O, good kind goat, please be so kind as to help me out of my stockade.”“Let the one who got you in there help you out,” replied the goat as he went on his way.Along came the armadillo and the tiger called out, “O, armadillo, has the danger passed?”The armadillo had not heard of any danger, but he replied that it had passed.Then the tiger said, “O, armadillo, O, good, kind armadillo, you have always been such a good friend and neighbour. Please help me now to get out of my stockade.”“Let the one who got you in there help you out,” replied the armadillo as he went on his way.The tiger jumped and jumped with all his force at the top of the stockade, but he could not break through. He jumped and jumped with all his might at the front side of the stockade, but he could not break through. He thought that never in the world would he be able to break out. He rested for a little while and as he rested he thought. He thought how bright the sun was shining outside. He thought what good hunting there was in the jungle. He thought how cool the water was at the spring.Once more he jumped and jumped with all his might at the back side of the stockade. At last he broke through. He did not get through, however, without getting bad cuts on both his sides from the sharp edges of the staves. Until this day the tiger has stripes on both his sides.
Once upon a time there was an old woman who had a goat. She milked the goat every day and kept the milk in the cupboard; but a sly cat came and licked it up. One day, however, the old woman succeeded in getting hold of the cat, and cutting off her tail as a punishment, let her go.“Meow! meow!” cried the cat; “give me my tail!”“Bring me my milk and I will give you your tail,” said the old woman.The cat went to the goat and said: “Goat, kind goat, do give me some milk! I will give it to the old woman and get back my tail.”“Bring me some boughs from yonder tree, and I will give you milk,” answered the goat.The cat went to the tree and said, “O good tree, do give me some boughs! I will take them to the goat, get a little milk and give it to the old woman, and get back my tail.”“Bring me some water and I will give you some boughs,” answered the tree.The cat went to the water-carrier and said, “Kind water-carrier, give me some water! I will take it to the tree and get some boughs, give them to the goat and get some milk, and give it to the old woman and get my tail.”“Bring me a pair of shoes and I will give you some water,” said the water-carrier.The cat went to the shoemaker and said, “Shoemaker, good shoemaker, do give me a pair of shoes! I will give them to the water-carrier, who will give me some water; I will take it to the tree and get some boughs for the goat; she will give me some milk, which I will take to the old woman and get my tail.”“Bring me an egg and I will give you a pair of shoes,” said the shoemaker.The cat went to the hen and said, “Hen, good hen, do lay me an egg! I will take it to the shoemaker and get a pair of shoes for the water-carrier; he will give me some water, which I will take to the tree and get some boughs for the goat; she will give me some milk, which I will take to the old woman and get my tail.”“Bring me some barley and I will lay an egg for you,” answered the hen.The cat went to the threshing-floor and said, “Threshing-floor, kind threshing-floor, do give me some barley!”The threshing-floor said: “There, you may gather the scattered barley which my good master has left as food for the birdies and ants.”The cat gathered the barley and took it to the hen, which laid her an egg. She took the egg to the shoemaker and got a pair of shoes. She took the pair of shoes to the water-carrier and got a pailful of water for the tree. The tree gave her some boughs which she took to the goat. The goat gave her some milk which she took to the old woman.“Here is your tail,” said the old woman, “and be careful hereafter not to steal my milk.”The cat took her tail and tried to stick it in its place but she could not. She tried over and over again to stick it with resin, with tar and with glue, but it was of no use. So that cat has remained tailless to this day, as a sign of her being a thief.Moral.—Wickedness is always punished. Nothing valuable can be gotten without labor. The mark of a great sin cannot be erased.
The Tory Manheim sits brooding in his farmhouse near Valley Forge, and his daughter, with a hectic flush on her cheek, looks out into the twilight at the falling snow. She is worn and ill; she has brought on a fever by exposure incurred that very day in a secret journey to the American camp, made to warn her lover of another attempt on the life of Washington, who must pass her father’s house on his return from a distant settlement. The Tory knows nothing of this; but he starts whenever the men in the next room rattle the dice or break into a ribald song, and a frown of apprehension crosses his face as the foragers crunch by, half-barefoot, through the snow. The hours go on, and the noise in the next room increases; but it hushes suddenly when a knock at the door is heard. The Tory opens it, and trembles as a tall, grave man, with the figure of an athlete, steps into the fire-light and calmly removes his gloves. “I have been riding far,” said he. “Can you give me some food and the chance to sleep for an hour, until the storm clears up?”Manheim says that he can, and shuffling into the next room, he whispers, “Washington!” The girl is sent out to get refreshments. It is in vain that she seeks to sign or speak to the man who sits there so calmly before the fire, for her father is never out of sight or hearing. After Washington has finished his modest repast he asks to be left to himself for a while, but the girl is told to conduct him to the room on the left of the landing on the next floor.Her father holds the candle at the foot of the stairs until he sees his guest enter; then he bids his daughter go to her own bed, which is in the chamber on the right of the landing. There is busy whispering in the room below after that, and the dice box is shaken to see to whose lot it shall fall to steal up those stairs and stab Washington in his sleep. An hour passes and all in the house appear to be at rest, but the stairs creak slightly as Manheim creeps upon his prey. He blows his candle out and softly enters the chamber on the left. The men, who listen in the dark at the foot of the stair, hear a moan, and the Tory hurries back with a shout of gladness, for the rebel chief is no more and Howe’s reward will enrich them for life.Glasses are filled, and in the midst of the rejoicing a step is heard on the stair. Washington stands before them. In calm, deep tones he thanks the farmer for his shelter, and asks that his horse be brought to the door and his reckoning be made out. The Tory stares as one bereft. Then he rushes aloft, flings open the door of the room on the left, and gazes at the face that rests on the pillow,—a pillow that is dabbled with red. The face is that of his daughter. The name of father is one that he will never hear again in this world. The candle falls from his hand; he sinks to the floor; be his sin forgiven! Outside is heard the tramp of a horse. It is that of Washington, who rides away, ignorant of the peril he has passed and the sacrifice that averted it.
Far way, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and woman who had two children, a son named Koane and a daughter called Thakane.Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents worked hard in the fields, resting, when the sun was high, under the shade of some tree. While they were absent the little girl kept house alone, for her brother always got up before the dawn, when the air was fresh and cool, and drove out the cattle to the sweetest patches of grass he could find.One day, when Koane had slept later than usual, his father and mother went to their work before him, and there was only Thakane to be seen busy making the bread for supper.‘Thakane,’ he said, ‘I am thirsty. Give me a drink from the tree Koumongoe, which has the best milk in the world.’‘Oh, Koane,’ cried his sister, ‘you know that we are forbidden to touch that tree. What would father say when he came home? For he would be sure to know.’‘Nonsense,’ replied Koane, ‘there is so much milk in Koumongoe that he will never miss a little. If you won’t give it to me, I sha’n’t take the cattle out. They will just have to stay all day in the hut, and you know that they will starve.’ And he turned from her in a rage, and sat down in the corner.After a while Thakane said to him: ‘It is getting hot, had you better drive out the cattle now?’But Koane only answered sulkily: ‘I told you I am not going to drive them out at all. If I have to do without milk, they shall do without grass.’Thakane did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey her parents, who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts would be sure to suffer if they were kept in, and she would perhaps be beaten for that too. So at last she took an axe and a tiny earthen bowl, she cut a very small hole in the side of Koumongoe, and out gushed enough milk to fill the bowl.‘Here is the milk you wanted,’ said she, going up to Koane, who was still sulking in his corner.‘What is the use of that?’ grumbled Koane; ‘why, there is not enough to drown a fly. Go and get me three times as much!’Trembling with fright, Thakane returned to the tree, and struck it a sharp blow with the axe. In an instant there poured forth such a stream of milk that it ran like a river into the hut.‘Koane! Koane!’ cried she, ‘come and help me to plug up the hole. There will be no milk left for our father and mother.’ But Koane could not stop it any more than Thakane, and soon the milk was flowing through the hut downhill towards their parents in the fields below.The man saw a white stream a long way off, and guessed what had happened.‘Wife, wife,’ he called loudly to the woman, who was working at a little distance: ‘Do you see Koumongoe running fast down the hill? That is some mischief of the children’s, I am sure. I must go home and find out what is the matter.’ And they both threw down their hoes and hurried to the side of Koumongoe.Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of their hands and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they done this, than Koumongoe flowed back again up the hill, and entered the hut.‘Thakane,’ said the parents, severely, when they reached home panting from the heat of the sun, ‘what have you been doing? Why did Koumongoe come to us in the fields instead of staying in the garden?’‘It was Koane’s fault,’ answered Thakane. ‘He would not take the cattle to feed until he drank some of the milk from Koumongoe. So, as I did not know what else to do, I gave it to him.’The father listened to Thakane’s words, but made no answer. Instead, he went outside and brought in two sheepskins, which he stained red and sent for a blacksmith to forge some iron rings. The rings were then passed over Thakane’s arms and legs and neck, and the skins fastened on her before and behind. When all was ready, the man sent for his servants and said:‘I am going to get rid of Thakane.’‘Get rid of your only daughter?’ they answered, in surprise. ‘But why?’‘Because she has eaten what she ought not to have eaten. She has touched the sacred tree which belongs to her mother and me alone.’ And, turning his back, he called to Thakane to follow him, and they went down the road which led to the dwelling of an ogre.They were passing along some fields where the corn was ripening, when a rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet, and standing on its hind legs, it sang:Why do you give to the ogre Your child, so fair, so fair?‘You had better ask her,’ replied the man, ‘she is old enough to give you an answer.’Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:I gave Koumongoe to Koane, Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts; For without Koumongoe they could not go to the meadows: Without Koumongoe they would starve in the hut; That was why I gave him the Koumongoe of my father.And when the rabbit heard that, he cried: ‘Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’But the father paid no heed to what the rabbit said, and only walked on the faster, bidding Thakane to keep close behind him. By-and-by they met with a troop of great deer, called elands, and they stopped when they saw Thakane and sang:Why do you give to the ogre Your child, so fair, so fair?‘You had better ask her, replied the man, ‘she is old enough to give you an answer.’Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:I gave Koumongoe to Koane, Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts; For without Koumongoe they could not go to the meadows: Without Koumongoe they would starve in the hut; That was why I gave him the Koumongoe of my father.And the elands all cried: ‘Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’By this time it was nearly dark, and the father said they could travel no further that night, and must go to sleep where they were. Thakane was thankful indeed when she heard this, for she was very tired, and found the two skins fastened round her almost too heavy to carry. So, in spite of her dread of the ogre, she slept till dawn, when her father woke her, and told her roughly that he was ready to continue their journey.Crossing the plain, the girl and her father passed a herd of gazelles feeding. They lifted their heads, wondering who was out so early, and when they caught sight of Thakane, they sang:Why do you give to the ogre Your child, so fair, so fair?‘You had better ask her, replied the man, ‘she is old enough to answer for herself.’Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:I gave Koumongoe to Koane, Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts; For without Koumongoe they could not go to the meadows: Without Koumongoe they would starve in the hut; That was why I gave him the Koumongoe of my father.And the gazelles all cried: ‘Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.’At last they arrived at the village where the ogre lived, and they went straight to his hut. He was nowhere to be seen, but in his place was his son Masilo, who was not an ogre at all, but a very polite young man. He ordered his servants to bring a pile of skins for Thakane to sit on, but told her father he must sit on the ground. Then, catching sight of the girl’s face, which she had kept down, he was struck by its beauty, and put the same question that the rabbit, and the elands, and the gazelles had done.Thakane answered him as before, and he instantly commanded that she should be taken to the hut of his mother, and placed under her care, while the man should be led to his father. Directly the ogre saw him he bade the servant throw him into the great pot which always stood ready on the fire, and in five minutes he was done to a turn. After that the servant returned to Masilo and related all that had happened.Now Masilo had fallen in loved with Thakane the moment he saw her. At first he did not know what to make of this strange feeling, for all his life he had hated women, and had refused several brides whom his parents had chosen for him. However, they were so anxious that he should marry, that they willingly accepted Thakane as their daughter-in-law, though she did bring any marriage portion with her.After some time a baby was born to her, and Thakane thought it was the most beautiful baby that ever was seen. But when her mother-in-law saw it was a girl, she wrung her hands and wept, saying:‘O miserable mother! Miserable child! Alas for you! why were you not a boy!’Thakane, in great surprise, asked the meaning of her distress; and the old woman told her that it was the custom in that country that all the girls who were born should be given to the ogre to eat.Then Thakane clasped the baby tightly in her arms, and cried:‘But it is not the customer in MY country! There, when children die, they are buried in the earth. No one shall take my baby from me.’That night, when everyone in the hut was asleep, Thakane rose, and carrying her baby on her back, went down to a place where the river spread itself out into a large lake, with tall willows all round the bank. Here, hidden from everyone, she sat down on a stone and began to think what she should do to save her child.Suddenly she heard a rustling among the willows, and an old woman appeared before her.‘What are you crying for, my dear?’ said she.And Thakane answered: ‘I was crying for my baby–I cannot hide her for ever, and if the ogre sees her, he will eat her; and I would rather she was drowned than that.’‘What you say is true,’ replied the old woman. ‘Give me your child, and let me take care of it. And if you will fix a day to meet me here I will bring the baby.’Then Thakane dried her eyes, and gladly accepted the old woman’s offer. When she got home she told her husband she had thrown it in the river, and as he had watched her go in that direction he never thought of doubting what she said.On the appointed day, Thakane slipped out when everybody was busy, and ran down the path that led to the lake. As soon as she got there, she crouched down among the willows, and sang softly:Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!And in a moment the old woman appeared holding the baby in her arms. Dilah had become so big and strong, that Thakane’s heart was filled with joy and gratitude, and she stayed as long as she dared, playing with her baby. At last she felt she must return to the village, lest she should be missed, and the child was handed back to the old woman, who vanished with her into the lake.Children grow up very quickly when they live under water, and in less time than anyone could suppose, Dilah had changed from a baby to a woman. Her mother came to visit her whenever she was able, and one day, when they were sitting talking together, they were spied out by a man who had come to cut willows to weave into baskets. He was so surprised to see how like the face of the girl was to Masilo, that he left his work and returned to the village.‘Masilo,’ he said, as he entered the hut, ‘I have just beheld your wife near the river with a girl who must be your daughter, she is so like you. We have been deceived, for we all thought she was dead.’When he heard this, Masilo tried to look shocked because his wife had broken the law; but in his heart he was very glad.‘But what shall we do now?’ asked he.‘Make sure for yourself that I am speaking the truth by hiding among the bushes the first time Thakane says she is going to bathe in the river, and waiting till the girl appears.’For some days Thakane stayed quietly at home, and her husband began to think that the man had been mistaken; but at last she said to her husband: ‘I am going to bathe in the river.’‘Well, you can go,’ answered he. But he ran down quickly by another path, and got there first, and hid himself in the bushes. An instant later, Thakane arrived, and standing on the bank, she sang:Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!Then the old woman came out of the water, holding the girl, now tall and slender, by the hand. And as Masilo looked, he saw that she was indeed his daughter, and he wept for joy that she was not lying dead in the bottom of the lake. The old woman, however, seemed uneasy, and said to Thakane: ‘I feel as if someone was watching us. I will not leave the girl to-day, but will take her back with me’; and sinking beneath the surface, she drew the girl after her. After they had gone, Thakane returned to the village, which Masilo had managed to reach before her.All the rest of the day he sat in a corner weeping, and his mother who came in asked: ‘Why are you weeping so bitterly, my son?’‘My head aches,’ he answered; ‘it aches very badly.’ And his mother passed on, and left him alone.In the evening he said to his wife: ‘I have seen my daughter, in the place where you told me you had drowned her. Instead, she lives at the bottom of the lake, and has now grown into a young woman.’‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ replied Thakane. ‘I buried my child under the sand on the beach.’Then Masilo implored her to give the child back to him; but she would not listen, and only answered: ‘If I were to give her back you would only obey the laws of your country and take her to your father, the ogre, and she would be eaten.’But Masilo promised that he would never let his father see her, and that now she was a woman no one would try to hurt her; so Thakane’s heart melted, and she went down to the lake to consult the old woman.‘What am I to do?’ she asked, when, after clapping her hands, the old woman appeared before her. ‘Yesterday Masilo beheld Dilah, and ever since he has entreated me to give him back his daughter.’‘If I let her go he must pay me a thousand head of cattle in exchange,’ replied the old woman. And Thakane carried her answer back to Masilo.‘Why, I would gladly give her two thousand!’ cried he, ‘for she has saved my daughter.’ And he bade messengers hasten to all the neighbouring villages, and tell his people to send him at once all the cattle he possessed. When they were all assembled he chose a thousand of the finest bulls and cows, and drove them down to the river, followed by a great crowd wondering what would happen.Then Thakane stepped forward in front of the cattle and sang:Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one, Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!And Dilah came from the waters holding out her hands to Masilo and Thakane, and in her place the cattle sank into the lake, and were driven by the old woman to the great city filled with people, which lies at the bottom.
Once there was a man called Gobborn Seer, and he had a son called Jack.One day he sent him out to sell a sheep skin, and Gobborn said, “You must bring me back the skin and the value of it as well.”So Jack started, but he could not find any who would leave him the skin and give him its price too. So he came home discouraged.But Gobborn Seer said, “Never mind, you must take another turn at it tomorrow.”So he tried again, and nobody wished to buy the skin on those terms.When he came home his father said, “You must go and try your luck to-morrow,” and the third day it seemed as if it would be the same thing over again. And he had half a mind not to go back at all, his father would be so vexed. As he came to a bridge, like the Creek Road one yonder, he leaned on the parapet thinking of his trouble, and that perhaps it would be foolish to run away from home, but he could not tell which to do; when he saw a girl washing her clothes on the bank below. She looked up and said:“If it may be no offence asking, what is it you feel so badly about?”“My father has given me this skin, and I am to fetch it back and the price of it beside.”“Is that all? Give it here, and it’s easy done.”So the girl washed the skin in the stream, took the wool from it, and paid him the value of it, and gave him the skin to carry back.His father was well pleased, and said to Jack, “That was a witty woman; she would make you a good wife. Do you think you could tell her again?”Jack thought he could, so his father told him to go by-and-by to the bridge, and see if she was there, and if so bid her come home to take tea with them.And sure enough Jack spied her and told her how his old father had a wish to meet her, and would she be pleased to drink tea with them.The girl thanked him kindly, and said she could come the next day; she was too busy at the moment.“All the better,” said Jack, “I’ll have time to make ready.”So when she came Gobborn Seer could see she was a witty woman, and he asked her if she would marry his Jack. She said “Yes,” and they were married.Not long after, Jack’s father told him he must come with him and build the finest castle that ever was seen, for a king who wished to outdo all others by his wonderful castle.And as they went to lay the foundation-stone, Gobborn Seer said to Jack, “Can’t you shorten the way for me?”But Jack looked ahead and there was a long road before them, and he said, “I don’t see, father, how I could break a bit off.”“You’re no good to me, then, and had best be off home.”So poor Jack turned back, and when he came in his wife said, “Why, how’s this you’ve come alone?” and he told her what his father had said and his answer.“You stupid,” said his witty wife, “if you had told a tale you would have shortened the road! Now listen till I tell you a story, and then catch up with Gobborn Seer and begin it at once. He will like hearing it, and by the time you are done you will have reached the foundation-stone.”So Jack sweated and overtook his father. Gobborn Seer said never a word, but Jack began his story, and the road was shortened as his wife had said.When they came to the end of their journey, they started building of this castle which was to outshine all others. Now the wife had advised them to be intimate with the servants, and so they did as she said, and it was “Good-morning” and “Good-day to you” as they passed in and out.Now, at the end of a twelvemonth, Gobborn, the wise man, had built such a castle thousands were gathered to admire it.And the king said: “The castle is done. I shall return to-morrow and pay you all.”“I have just a ceiling to finish in an upper lobby,” said Gobborn, “and then it wants nothing.”But after the king was gone off, the housekeeper sent for Gobborn and Jack, and told them that she had watched for a chance to warn them, for the king was so afraid they should carry their art away and build some other king as fine a castle, he meant to take their lives on the morrow. Gobborn told Jack to keep a good heart, and they would come off all right.When the king had come back Gobborn told him he had been unable to complete the job for lack of a tool left at home, and he should like to send Jack after it.“No, no,” said the king, “cannot one of the men do the errand?”“No, they could not make themselves understood,” said the Seer, “but Jack could do the errand.”“You and your son are to stop here. But how will it do if I send my own son?”“That will do.”So Gobborn sent by him a message to Jack’s wife. “Give him Crooked and Straight!”Now there was a little hole in the wall rather high up, and Jack’s wife tried to reach up into a chest there after “crooked and straight,” but at last she asked the king’s son to help her, because his arms were longest.But when he was leaning over the chest she caught him by the two heels, and threw him into the chest, and fastened it down. So there he was, both “crooked and straight!”Then he begged for pen and ink, which she brought him, but he was not allowed out, and holes were bored that he might breathe.When his letter came, telling the king, his father, he was to be let free when Gobborn and Jack were safe home, the king saw he must settle for the building, and let them come away.As they left Gobborn told him: Now that Jack was done with this work, he should soon build a castle for his witty wife far superior to the king’s, which he did, and they lived there happily ever after.
Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house,Titty Mouse went a leasing and Tatty Mouse went a leasing,So they both went a leasing.Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and Tatty Mouse leased an ear of corn,So they both leased an ear of corn.Titty Mouse made a pudding, and Tatty Mouse made a pudding,So they both made a pudding.And Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil,But when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scalded her to death.Then Tatty sat down and wept; then a three-legged stool said: “Tatty, why do you weep?” “Titty’s dead,” said Tatty, “and so I weep;” “then,” said the stool, “I’ll hop,” so the stool hopped.Then a broom in the corner of the room said, “Stool, why do you hop?” “Oh!” said the stool, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop;” “then,” said the broom, “I’ll sweep,” so the broom began to sweep.“Then,” said the door, “Broom, why do you sweep?” “Oh!” said the broom, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep;” “Then,” said the door, “I’ll jar,” so the door jarred.“Then,” said the window, “Door, why do you jar?” “Oh!” said the door, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, and so I jar.”“Then,” said the window, “I’ll creak,” so the window creaked. Now there was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form said: “Window, why do you creak?” “Oh!” said the window, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and so I creak.”“Then,” said the old form, “I’ll run round the house;” then the old form ran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing by the cottage, and the tree said to the form: “Form, why do you run round the house?” “Oh!” said the form, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, and so I run round the house.”“Then,” said the walnut-tree, “I’ll shed my leaves,” so the walnut- tree shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said: “Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?” “Oh!” said the tree, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, and so I shed my leaves.”“Then,” said the little bird, “I’ll moult all my feathers,” so he moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers and sisters’ supper, and when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said: “Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?” “Oh!” said the little bird, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I moult all my feathers.”“Then,” said the little girl, “I’ll spill the milk,” so she dropt the pitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the top of a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill the milk, he said: “Little girl, what do you mean by spilling the milk, your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper.” Then said the little girl: “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all its leaves, the little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk.”“Oh!” said the old man, “then I’ll tumble off the ladder and break my neck,” so he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old man broke his neck, the great walnut-tree fell down with a crash, and upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried beneath the ruins.
In a far-away country, somewhere in Russia, there lived a stepmother who had a stepdaughter and also a daughter of her own. Her own daughter was dear to her, and always whatever she did the mother was the first to praise her, to pet her; but there was but little praise for the stepdaughter; although good and kind, she had no other reward than reproach. What on earth could have been done? The wind blows, but stops blowing at times; the wicked woman never knows how to stop her wickedness. One bright cold day the stepmother said to her husband:“Now, old man, I want thee to take thy daughter away from my eyes, away from my ears. Thou shalt not take her to thy people into a warm izba. Thou shalt take her into the wide, wide fields to the crackling frost.”The old father grew sad, began even to weep, but nevertheless helped the young girl into the sleigh. He wished to cover her with a sheepskin in order to protect her from the cold; however, he did not do it. He was afraid; his wife was watching them out of the window. And so he went with his lovely daughter into the wide, wide fields; drove her nearly to the woods, left her there alone, and speedily drove away—he was a good man and did not care to see his daughter’s death.Alone, quite alone, remained the sweet girl. Broken-hearted and terror-stricken she repeated fervently all the prayers she knew.Father Frost, the almighty sovereign at that place, clad in furs, with a long, long, white beard and a shining crown on his white head, approached nearer and nearer, looked at this beautiful guest of his and asked:“Dost thou know me?—me, the red-nosed Frost?”“Be welcome, Father Frost,” answered gently the young girl. “I hope our heavenly Lord sent thee for my sinful soul.”“Art thou comfortable, sweet child?” again asked the Frost. He was exceedingly pleased with her looks and mild manners.“Indeed I am,” answered the girl, almost out of breath from cold.And the Frost, cheerful and bright, kept crackling in the branches until the air became icy, but the good-natured girl kept repeating:“I am very comfortable, dear Father Frost.”But the Frost, however, knew all about the weakness of human beings; he knew very well that few of them are really good and kind; but he knew no one of them even could struggle too long against the power of Frost, the king of winter. The kindness of the gentle girl charmed old Frost so much that he made the decision to treat her differently from others, and gave her a large heavy trunk filled with many beautiful, beautiful things. He gave her a rich “schouba” lined with precious furs; he gave her silk quilts—light like feathers and warm as a mother’s lap. What a rich girl she became and how many magnificent garments she received! And besides all, old Frost gave her a blue “sarafan” ornamented with silver and pearls.When the young girl put it on she became such a beautiful maiden that even the sun smiled at her.The stepmother was in the kitchen busy baking pancakes for the meal which it is the custom to give to the priests and friends after the usual service for the dead.“Now, old man,” said the wife to the husband, “go down to the wide fields and bring the body of thy daughter; we will bury her.”The old man went off. And the little dog in the corner wagged his tail and said:“Bow-wow! bow-wow! the old man’s daughter is on her way home, beautiful and happy as never before, and the old woman’s daughter is wicked as ever before.”“Keep still, stupid beast!” shouted the stepmother, and struck the little dog.“Here, take this pancake, eat it and say, ‘The old woman’s daughter will be married soon and the old man’s daughter shall be buried soon.'”The dog ate the pancake and began anew:“Bow-wow! bow-wow! the old man’s daughter is coming home wealthy and happy as never before, and the old woman’s daughter is somewhere around as homely and wicked as ever before.”The old woman was furious at the dog, but in spite of pancakes and whipping, the dog repeated the same words over and over again.Somebody opened the gate, voices were heard laughing and talking outside. The old woman looked out and sat down in amazement. The stepdaughter was there like a princess, bright and happy in the most beautiful garments, and behind her the old father had hardly strength enough to carry the heavy, heavy trunk with the rich outfit.“Old man!” called the stepmother, impatiently; “hitch our best horses to our best sleigh, and drive my daughter to the very same place in the wide, wide fields.”The old man obeyed as usual and took his stepdaughter to the same place and left her alone.Old Frost was there; he looked at his new guest.“Art thou comfortable, fair maiden?” asked the red-nosed sovereign.“Let me alone,” harshly answered the girl; “canst thou not see that my feet and my hands are about stiff from the cold?”The Frost kept crackling and asking questions for quite a while, but obtaining no polite answer became angry and froze the girl to death.“Old man, go for my daughter; take the best horses; be careful; do not upset the sleigh; do not lose the trunk.”And the little dog in the corner said:“Bow-wow! bow-wow! the old man’s daughter will marry soon; the old woman’s daughter shall be buried soon.”“Do not lie. Here is a cake; eat it and say, ‘The old woman’s daughter is clad in silver and gold.'”The gate opened, the old woman ran out and kissed the stiff frozen lips of her daughter. She wept and wept, but there was no help, and she understood at last that through her own wickedness and envy her child had perished.
An Ass was being driven along a road leading down the mountain side, when he suddenly took it into his silly head to choose his own path. He could see his stall at the foot of the mountain, and to him the quickest way down seemed to be over the edge of the nearest cliff. Just as he was about to leap over, his master caught him by the tail and tried to pull him back, but the stubborn Ass would not yield and pulled with all his might.“Very well,” said his master, “go your way, you willful beast, and see where it leads you.” With that he let go, and the foolish Ass tumbled head over heels down the mountain side.They who will not listen to reason but stubbornly go their own way against the friendly advice of those who are wiser than they, are on the road to misfortune.
ONCE on a time a poor pious peasant died, and arrived before the gate of heaven. At the same time a very rich, rich lord came there who also wanted to get into heaven. Then Saint Peter came with the key, and opened the door, and let the great man in, but apparently did not see the peasant, and shut the door again. And now the peasant outside, heard how the great man was received in heaven with all kinds of rejoicing, and how they were making music, and singing within. At length all became quiet again, and Saint Peter came and opened the gate of heaven, and let the peasant in. The peasant, however, expected that they would make music and sing when he went in also, but all remained quite quiet; he was received with great affection, it is true, and the angels came to meet him, but no one sang. Then the peasant asked Saint Peter how it was that they did not sing for him as they had done when the rich man went in, and said that it seemed to him that there in heaven things were done with just as much partiality as on earth. Then said Saint Peter, “By no means, thou art just as dear to us as any one else, and wilt enjoy every heavenly delight that the rich man enjoys, but poor fellows like thee come to heaven every day, but a rich man like this does not come more than once in a hundred years!”
Some Thieves broke into a house, and found nothing worth taking except a Cock, which they seized and carried off with them. When they were preparing their supper, one of them caught up the Cock, and was about to wring his neck, when he cried out for mercy and said, “Pray do not kill me: you will find me a most useful bird, for I rouse honest men to their work in the morning by my crowing.” But the Thief replied with some heat, “Yes, I know you do, making it still harder for us to get a livelihood. Into the pot you go!”
OKTEONDON lived in the woods with his uncle HAIENTHWÛS. The young man lay fastened under the roots of an elm tree which grew through his uncle’s bark house. When very small, his uncle had hidden him there so nobody could carry him off. There were persons in the South who came North to steal the boys of the Wampum people.Note: The original text featured OKTEONDON with a small “n,” thus we have preserved it as such here.One day, while the uncle was planting corn, he heard his nephew sing in a loud voice, “I am rising, I am rising.”The old man dropped his planting stick, and saying, “No, nephew, you are in too great a hurry,” he ran home, and, finding that the boy had raised his head, he pushed him back, and said, “I will tell you when it is time to rise. As soon as you get up, women, who float around in a canoe, will come from the South and carry you away.”The next day the old man went out to plant corn and a second time his nephew began to sing and to try to get up. He ran home so fast that he lost his seed corn by the way and when he came to the house he found the tree leaning over. He put his nephew back, but the tree could not be fixed as firmly as before.On the third day HAIENTHWÛS went to finish his planting, but the minute he began to drop seed he heard the song, “I am rising! I am rising!” He ran towards home but while running he heard an awful crash, and he knew the tree had fallen; when he reached the house OKTEONDOn was sitting on the ground.The old man didn’t go back to his planting; he stayed at home to look after his nephew.Early the next morning they heard women singing and soon a beautiful young woman came in; one of the Wild Duck sisters.She put down a basket near the old man, and said, “Here is the marriage bread,” and going to OKTEONDOn she said, “I have come to take you home with me.”“Very well,” answered the young man, and he was starting to go when his uncle stopped him, and said, “You must not go yet, you have friends coming, men whom these sisters have stolen. You must wait for them.”The women went away and the old man began to cook, He put over the fire a kettle with hominy (snow) in it, When the hominy was ready, three young men came in. HAIENTHWÛS invited them to eat and when they had eaten, he put clothing in a bundle and said to his nephew, “If your friends are in need of things, you will find them in this bundle.”The young man put on snowshoes, told his friends to walk in his tracks; and they started. The three young men found that walking in OKTEONDOn’s tracks was like walking on solid ground.Toward night the young man saw a smoke and going near it found four fires and four young women. Each woman had her own fire.“We will make our fires near theirs,” said the young man.When the fires were burning, he went boldly up to where the four sisters had their fires. Over each fire a kettle of hominy was boiling. He walked through the fires from the first one to the last, and threw the kettles over. Three of the sisters were angry, but the youngest sister laughed.OKTEONDOn went back to his friends, and said, “I am going to hunt now,” and he started off. Very near his fire he saw bear marks on a tree. He struck the tree, and said: “You who are in here, come out.”A bear came out; he killed it and carried the meat to the camp. Then he said, “I will bring my uncle’s kettle,” and going behind a tree he brought back a big kettle.When the meat was cooked, the friends sat down and ate, and when all had eaten enough OKTEONDOn said, “We will go to where our wives are, but we must not take any of this meat to them, if we do we will have bad luck.”When they came to the women, they found they had hominy cooked and were cooling it; they sat with their backs to the men, facing the direction they were traveling in. The youngest sister, whom OKTEONDOn claimed as his wife, asked him to come and eat; the other sisters said nothing.HÓTHO (Cold), one of the three friends, was naked; he had a hole through his hip and in that hole he carried a mallet; he chose the eldest of the Wild Duck sisters.The women kept their canoe on one side of the first fire and when they undressed they put their clothes in the canoe.The next morning the men went back to their fires, but one of them had lost his leggings and moccasins; his wife had stolen them.The sisters warmed up the cold hominy and ate it. After eating they sat in their canoe and sailed away through the air.OKTEONDOn opened the bundle his uncle had given him, took out leggings and moccasins and gave them to the man whose wife had stolen his clothes.When the men had eaten and were ready, they started off, following the canoe, the trail of which they saw in the air.Towards evening the young man saw a smoke and when some distance from it, he said, “We will stay here.”Again he went to where the sisters were camped, walked through their fires and spilled their hominy. Then he went back to his friends and started off to hunt for game; but this time he had to go far, for the woman who had stolen the leggings and moccasins had long arms. She had stretched them out over the country, made a circle with them and told the game to go outside that circle. OKTEONDOn had to go outside the circle too, before he could find a bear. When he had the bear, he went back to camp and said to the three men, “You have tired me with your folly. I told you not to take even one bite of our meat to those women. You disobeyed me.”He got a kettle as before, cooked some of the bear meat and they all ate heartily, then they went over to where the women were camped. Each woman was sitting with a dish of hot hominy on her knees, cooling it. Their faces were turned in the direction in which they were traveling.The youngest sister asked OKTEONDOn to eat. The young man grew angrier and angrier and in the night, when all were asleep, he said to a great tree that stood near the canoe the women traveled in, “I want you to bend down to me.” The tree bent down to him and he fastened the canoe among its topmost branches, then he said, “I want you to stand straight.” The tree stood erect. Then he said, “I want you to be covered with ice.” The tree was covered with ice.OKTEONDOn did this because he was angry at the woman who had stolen the leggings and moccasins of one of his companions, and had driven the game away and made him go so far to hunt for a bear.Early the next morning the young men went back to their own camp.When the women couldn’t find their canoe they ran around looking for it, ran for a good while. At last they saw it in the top of the tree. The eldest sister said, “I will try to get it down.” She spat on her hands and feet, rubbed the spittle in and right away long nails, like bear claws, grew out on her fingers and toes. She began to climb, went half way up the tree, then lost her grip and came down, her claws scratching the ice as she slipped.Now the sisters talked together and said that OKTEONDOn and no one else, had done this. They asked him about itand he said, “I put your canoe on the tree because you made me angry.”When they promised not to steal again, he told the tree to bend down. The tree bent to the ground and OKTEONDOn took off the canoe and gave it to the sisters, who dressed themselves, took their food out of the canoe, cooked hominy, ate it and then sat in the canoe and continued their journey.All day the four men. followed the trail of the canoe. Towards evening they saw a smoke in the distance, but when they drew near they found a great lake covered with smooth ice.In the middle of the lake the four sisters were camped. OKTEONDOn said to his friends, “We will camp on the ice too.” And getting a handful of dry leaves and hemlock boughs he said to the men, “Follow in my steps, and be sure to put your feet in my tracks.”When near the sisters’ camp, he said, “We will camp here.” He put down his handful of boughs and leaves and it became a great pile. He said, “I want a fire!” And there was a fire. He scattered a handful of hemlock boughs on the other side of the fire, and said, “Here will be our house and beds.” And straightway a house of hemlock boughs covered their fire, and in the house was a place for each one of the four men to sleep.The home of the sisters was on the edge of the lake, but they camped in the middle of it, on the ice, to see how the men would act and what power they had.In the morning OKTEONDOn saw that the banks of the lake were black with people.The sisters went to their home on the land and their mother asked, “Which of your husbands has the most power?”They answered “OKTEONDOn.”Now OKTEONDOn said to the three men, “We will go to the women, but you must not look at the people.”The four started, from their camp on the ice, for the shore. When they had gone a short distance three of them heard a voice singing, “We are raining bones. We are raining bones.” They heard the song a second time, and nearer, then they heard a rustling noise and a mass of dry bones swept past them on the ice. OKTEONDOn said “One of us has looked up and he has turned to bones.”At that moment all the people on the shore disappeared except an old woman who was walking back and forth singing, “OKTEONDOn is my son-in-law. OKTEONDOn is my son-in-law.”When the young man and his two friends came to the shore, the old woman went home and they followed her and went to her house. When there she said, “I will see if my daughters are getting you something to eat. You must wait here till I come back.” Her house was of ice.While she was gone, OKTEONDOn took a small bundle of sticks and said, “Let them burn.” Straightway the pile of sticks became large and there was a great fire. Then he said to the two men, “The old woman will bring food, out you mustn’t eat it. I will eat it for it won’t hurt me.” He made a hole in the ice, took a reed and put it through himself into the hole.The old woman came, and said, “Son-in-law, I have brought you a little to eat. It is the rule to eat only a little after a long journey.”The young man took the bark bowl and ate all the food, It ran through the reed into the ground. The food was hominy (snow) and bloodsuckers (clouds).Soon she came with a second bowl, and said, “I have brought more for you. This is hominy cooked with maple sugar.” (It was wild flint, a weed that floats on water.)When the old woman’s house was getting full of holes from the heat of the fire, she said, “Whu! My son-in-law has spoiled my house. We’ll go to my daughters’ house.”OKTEONDOn’s wife said to him, “My mother will try to kill you; she doesn’t care about the other men for she knows what power they have and that she can kill them whenever she wants to.”Towards night the old woman said, “Whu! I think it’s going to be cold to-night, I will get logs and make a great fire to keep my back warm.” She brought logs from the woods and made a hot fire.When night came, all lay down to sleep. In the middle of the night the old woman began to groan terribly, she rolled out of her place and into the fire with such force that she pushed the fire-brands and coals about the house.OKTEONDOn jumped up, took the corn-pounder, struck her and called out, “Well, Mother-in-law, what are you doing?”The old woman sat up, and said, “Oh, I have had a dream. I dreamt that you, my son-in-law, must kill In-the-Mist and bring him in here before the door, that you slam behind you when going out, stops trembling. If you fail to do this, something bad will happen.“Go to sleep, Mother-in-law,” said the young man, “we will see to that in the morning.”The old woman lay down again and slept.The next morning OKTEONDOn was ready. He took hairs from his wife’s head and tied them together till he had a long cord. Then he tied one end of the cord to the door and giving the other end to his wife told her to jerk it and keep the door trembling till he came back from shooting In-the-Mist.OKTEONDOn started and before he had gone far from the house he saw In-the-Mist sitting on a cloud. He let go his arrow, and the bird fell to the ground.The old woman was very angry when she saw that the door didn’t stop trembling after OKTEONDOn had slammed it in going out. She pushed the door to, but her daughter kept it moving, unknown to her.When OKTEONDOn went in and threw the bird on the ground saying, “Here is a feast for you!” she said, “O, my son-in-law, you must give me one of the wings for a fan, my old one is worn out.”“No,” said the young man. “You cannot have a wing,” and he threw the bird on the, fire.HÓTHO, OKTEONDOn’s friend, hung a kettle over the fire and filled it with water. As soon as the feathers were burned off the bird OKTEONDOn cut it up and put the pieces in the kettle. When cooked he took out the meat and skimmed every drop of fat from the broth.“Now,” said the old woman, “you must invite all the best men of the village to come and eat.”“I’ll invite whom I please,” said OKTEONDOn. He went out and shouted, “I invite you all, O Whirlwinds (DAGWANOEnYENTS), to a feast.”Soon the guests began to come, one after another. When all were present, OKTEONDOn said, “I have invited you to a feast at which everything must be consumed. You must eat the meat, drink the broth, chew up and swallow the bones.”They finished everything, left neither a drop of broth nor a bit of bone. When they were through eating, they laughed and said, “The flesh of the old woman’s husband made a good meal.”The woman was raving. She took a pounder and struck the guests. They flew up through the smoke-hole and off as fast as they could. One of them made a great rent in the side of the house as he rushed through.When she had driven the guests out and the house was clear, the old woman said, “I think the night is going to be cold, I must go for wood.”She brought wood, made a great fire, and said, “Now I will warm my back.” Then she went to sleep with her back to the fire.OKTEONDOn’s wife said, “My mother will dream again to-night, and will say, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law was to kill the white beaver and bring it here before the door, that he slams when going out, stops moving. If he doesn’t get back before the door stops moving, something bad will happen.'”Late in the night the young man heard his mother-in-law groaning. She rolled around, threw the wood from its place on the fire and scattered the coals.He jumped up, took the corn-pounder, hit the old woman on the head, and said, “You must be dreaming about me, Mother-in-law.“Yes, I was dreaming about you, and I am afraid something bad may happen, but you are powerful. The dream says that my son-in-law is to kill the white beaver, and if the door that he slams behind him stops trembling before he comes back, something bad will happen.”“Go to sleep, Mother-in-law, that is nothing.”In the morning, the young man fastened the cord made of his wife’s hair to the door and told her to keep the door moving while he was gone. Then he went out and running to a knoll where there was a butter-nut tree, he took a nut from the tree and hurried to the lake. He threw the nut into the water, and said, “You who live in this lake, come out.”The water rose up and rushed after him till he reached the knoll where the butter-nut tree was, there it stopped. OKTEONDOn saw the white beaver looking out of the water. He drew his bow, killed the beaver, seized the body and hurried home.When he reached the door, the old woman was trying to hold it still and was repeating every word that had power to stop it.When the young man threw the beaver into the house, she said, `My son-in-law, you must make me a pouch of this skin.”“Oh, no! I’ll do what I like with it,” said he, and he threw the beaver into the fire. HÓTHO put on a kettle, prepared everything and when the water was boiling, he put the beaver into the kettle and cooked it. Then the old woman said, “Son-in-law, I want you to invite all the chief men of this place to the feast.”“I will invite such men as I like,” said OKTEONDOn.When the beaver was cooked, he took out the pieces of meat and cooled them, then going outside he called loudly, “I invite all you Whirlwinds to come to a feast.”They came and when all were there OKTEONDOn said, “You must eat everything to the end. Here is meat, broth, and bones. You must eat all, and lick the bowls.”They ate the meat, swallowed the fat and drank the broth, then the crunching of bones could be heard. Last of all they licked the bark bowls.When they had finished and were satisfied, they began to laugh. “Hi; hi; hi!” said they. “The flesh of the old woman’s brother has made us a good meal.”The old woman was terribly angry. She ran at them with the corn-pounder and drove them out of the house.After the feast OKTEONDOn’s wife said, “There is one more trial, the worst of all. My mother will say to-night, ‘I dreamed that my son-in-law was killed and skinned and I made a pouch of his skin.’OKTEONDOn said, “When she kills and skins me and puts my flesh in a bowl, take the bowl and place it on the top of the house.”Towards night the old woman said, “The sky is clear we will have a cold night, I must get logs and make a big fire.”She made a great fire and in the night began to groan and throw the logs and fire about. OKTEONDOn jumped up, struck her on the head with the corn-pounder, and said, “Mother-in-law, what is the trouble, what are you dreaming about?”“I dreamed that I killed you and made a pouch of your skin.”“Go to sleep, we will see to that in the morning.”The next morning the young man  said, “Now, Mother-in-law, I am ready.”The old woman put a large piece of bark on the ground and told him to lie on it. He lay down, she struck him on the head and killed him. Then she took off his skin, leaving his hands and feet on the skin, and cutting up the flesh put it into a bark bowl. As soon as OKTEONDOn’s wife saw her put in the last piece, she took the bowl and placed it on the top of the house.The old woman sewed up the skin in the form of a pouch and distended it by blowing. Then she hung it over the fire and poked the fire to make it blaze. The pouch swayed to and fro over the fire and the, old woman sang, “Oh, what a nice pouch have I, no woman living has such a pouch!”Each time she punched the fire, the pouch swayed more quickly to and fro. At last it began to sing, “Oh, if the wind were out of me!” She poked and poked the fire and the pouch swayed faster and faster. “What a beautiful pouch I have,” said she, “it even sings.”After a while the pouch made a noise: “Sho!” and went out through the smoke-hole.As it went the old woman cried, “Oh, I’ve lost my pouch, I’ve lost my pouch! It has run away from me!”She hurried to the door, but in going out she met her son-in-law coming in alive and well.That night OKTEONDOn had a dream; he groaned and rolled around till the old woman got up and hit him with the corn-pounder, saying, “Wake up!”“I had a dream,” said he.“What was it?” asked the old woman.“I dreamed that I must kill the Ancient of Bears and have a feast and invite all the people in the village.”The next morning the young man killed the Ancient of Bears.HÓTHO got the kettle ready and when the flesh of the bear was cooked OKTEONDOn said to his wife and the two friends, who had come with him from his uncle’s place, “You must go out of the house.”They went out and the new company came in: the old woman and her other daughters and the people of the place. OKTEONDOn said, “Here is flesh, fat, and bones. You must eat all that is placed before you and clean the bowls.”The chief of the people said, “We have everything here before us. Now eat.”OKTEONDOn went out and ran around the house; while running he said, “Let this house become stone, and the ground under it be stone, so that the greatest wizard couldn’t get out, and let the house become red hot.”While the people were eating and drinking and saying, “Ho, ho, this is a great feast,” the house began to grow hot. Someone spoke up so loudly that he was heard outside, and said, “Let us get out of here as quickly as we can. Something is wrong.”They all tried to get out, but couldn’t. One jumped up to where the smoke-hole had been, and those outside heard him knock his head against solid stone and fall back. Another said, “I will go out through the ground.”After a while the voices and screams inside the house died down; and all was quiet.The house cracked open, the heads of the people burst, one after another, and out of them came screech owls, horned owls, and gray and red foxes, and all rushed out of sight.The people of the old woman’s village were man-eaters. The sisters sailed around everywhere in their canoe, deceiving men and luring them to that village to be devoured. All the sisters, except OKTEONDOn’s wife were burned up with the old woman and the man-eaters.The young man and his wife went to the lake shore where they found a great pile of bones; they gathered them up, put them under a large hickory tree, then pushed the tree and called out, “Rise up, or the tree will fall on you!”At this call the bones sprang up living men, and each man went to his own home.“We will go home too,” said the young man to his wife, and they went to the house of his uncle, HAIENTHWÛS.When OKTEONDOn went away his uncle hung up a belt, and said, “The deeper you are in trouble the nearer this belt will come to the ground, if you die it will touch the ground.”The belt had touched the ground and the old man had mourned, but now it was up again.While his nephew was away, many persons had come to the door pretending to be OKTEONDOn and had deceived the old man. Now when his nephew knocked, he said, “Put your arm through the hole in the door.” He did so. The old man tied it there firmly, then said, “Now, I have got you!” and he opened the door to strike whoever was outside, but seeing OKTEONDOn and his wife he said, “Oh, my nephew, wait a minute till I clean up a bit.” He brushed away the ashes and then he welcomed his nephew.The narrator said that this story described winter trying to delay spring.
There were, once upon a time, a king and queen of Denmark who had an only son, a handsome and clever lad. When he was eighteen, his father, the old king, fell very ill, and there was no hope that he would ever get well again. The queen and the prince were very unhappy, for they loved him dearly; but though they did all they could, he only grew worse and worse, and, one day, when the summer had come and the birds were singing, he raised his head and, taking a long look out of the window, fell back dead.During many weeks the queen could hardly eat or sleep, so sorely did she grieve for him, and the prince feared that she would die also if she went on weeping; so he begged her to go with him to a beautiful place that he knew of on the other side of the forest, and after some time she consented. The prince was overjoyed, and arranged that they should set off early next morning.They travelled all day, only stopping now and then to rest, and already the queen began to be better and to take a little interest in the things she saw. Just as the evening was coming on they entered the forest. Here it was quite dark, for the trees grew so close together that the sun could not shine through them, and very soon they lost the path, and wandered helplessly about wondering what they should do.‘If we sleep in this dreadful place,’ said the queen, who was tired and frightened, ‘the wild beasts will eat us.’ And she began to cry.‘Cheer up, mother,’ answered her son, ‘I have a feeling that luck is coming to us.’ And at the next turning they came to a little house, in the window of which a light was burning.‘Didn’t I tell you so ?’ cried the prince. ‘Stay here a moment and I will go and see if I can get food and shelter for the night.’ And away he ran as fast as he could go, for by this time they were very hungry, as they had brought very little food with them and had eaten up every scrap ! When one takes a long journey on foot one does not like to have too much to carry.The prince entered the house and looked about him, going from one room to the other, but seeing nobody and finding nothing to eat. At last, as he was going sorrowfully away, he caught sight of a sword and shirt of mail hanging on the wall in an inner room, with a piece of paper fastened under them. On the paper was some writing, which said that whoever wore the coat and carried the sword would be safe from all danger.The prince was so delighted at the sight that he forgot how hungry he was, and instantly slipped on the coat of chain armour under his tunic, and hid the sword under his cloak, for he did not mean to say anything about what he had found. Then he went back to his mother, who was waiting impatiently for him.‘What have you been doing all this time ?’ she asked angrily. ‘I thought you had been killed by robbers !’‘Oh, just looking round,’ he answered; ‘but though I searched everywhere I could find nothing to eat.’‘I am very much afraid that it is a robbers’ den,’ said the queen. ‘We had better go on, hungry though we are.’‘No, it isn’t; but still, we had better not stay here,’ replied the prince, ‘especially as there is nothing to eat. Perhaps we shall find another house.’They went on for some time, until, sure enough, they came to another house, which also had a light in the window.‘We’ll go in here,’ said the prince.No, no; I am afraid !’ cried the queen. ‘We shall be attacked and killed ! It is a robbers’ den: I am sure it is !’‘Yes, it looks like it; but we can’t help that,’ said her son. ‘We have had nothing to eat for hours, and I’m nearly as tired as you.’The poor queen was, indeed, quite worn out; she could hardly stand for fatigue, and in spite of her terror was half anxious to be persuaded.‘And there’s going to be a storm,’ added the prince; who feared nothing now that he had the sword.So they went into the house, where they found nobody. In the first room stood a table laid for a meal, with all sorts of good things to eat and drink, though some of the dishes were empty.‘Well, this looks nice,’ said the prince, sitting down and helping himself to some delicious strawberries piled on a golden dish, and some iced lemonade. Never had anything tasted so nice; but, all the same, it was a robbers’ den they had come to, and the robbers, who had only just dined, had gone out into the forest to see whom they could rob.When the queen and the prince could eat no more they remembered that they were very tired, and the prince looked about till he discovered a comfortable bed, with silken sheets, standing in the next room.‘You get into bed, mother,’ he said, ‘and I’ll lie down by the side. Don’t be alarmed; you can sleep quite safely till the morning.’ And he lay down with his sword in his hand, and kept watch until the day began to break; then the queen woke up and said she was quite rested and ready to start again.‘First I’ll go out into the forest and see if I can find our road,’ said the prince. ‘And while I’m gone you light the fire and make some coffee. We must eat a good breakfast before we start.’And he ran off into the wood.After he had gone the queen lit the fire, and then thought she would like to see what was in the other rooms; so she went from one to another, and presently came to one that was very prettily furnished, with lovely pictures on the walls, and pale blue curtains and soft yellow cushions and comfortable easy chairs. As she was looking at all these things, suddenly a trap-door opened in the floor, and the robber-chief came out of the hole and seized her ankles. The queen almost died of fright, and shrieked loudly, then fell on her knees and begged him to spare her life.‘Yes, if you will promise me two things,’ he replied; ‘first that you will take me home to your country and let me be crowned king instead of your son; and secondly, that you will kill him in case he should try to take the throne from me — if you will not agree to this I shall kill you.’‘Kill my own son !’ gasped the queen, staring at him in horror.‘You need not do that exactly,’ said the robber. ‘When he returns, just lie on the bed and say that you have been taken ill, and add that you have dreamed that in a forest, a mile away, there are some beautiful apples. If you could only get some of these you would be well again, but if not you will die.’The queen shuddered as she listened. She was fond of her son, but she was a terrible coward; and so in the end she agreed, hoping that something would occur to save the prince. She had hardly given her promise when a step was heard, and the robber hastily hid himself.‘Well, mother,’ cried the prince as he entered, ‘I have been through the forest and found the road, so we will start directly we have had some breakfast.’‘Oh, I feel so ill !’ said the queen. ‘I could not walk a single step; and there is only one thing that will cure me.’‘What is that ?’ asked the prince.‘I dreamed,’ answered the queen, in a faint voice, ‘that, a mile away, there is a forest where the most beautiful apples grow, and if I could have some of them I should soon be well again.’‘Oh ! but dreams don’t mean anything,’ said the prince. ‘There is a magician who lives near here. I’ll go to him and ask for a spell to cure you.’‘My dreams always mean something,’ said the queen, shaking her head. ‘If I don’t get any apples I shall die.’ She did not know why the robber wanted to send the prince to this particular forest, but as a matter of fact it was full of wild animals who would tear to pieces any traveller who entered it.‘Well, I’ll go,’ answered the prince. ‘But I really must have some breakfast first; I shall walk all the faster.’‘If you do not hurry you will find me dead when you come back,’ murmured the queen fretfully. She thought her son was not nearly anxious enough about her, and by this time she had begun to believe that she really was as ill as she had said.When the prince had eaten and drunk, he set off, and soon came to the forest, and sure enough it was full of lions and tigers, and bears and wolves, who came rushing towards him; but instead of springing on him and tearing him to pieces, they lay down on the ground and licked his hands. He speedily found the tree with the apples which his mother wanted, but the branches were so high he could not reach them, and there was no way of climbing up the smooth trunk.‘It is no use after all, I can’t get up there,’ he said to himself. ‘What am I to do now ?’But, as he turned away his sword chanced to touch the tree, and immediately two apples fell down. He picked them up joyfully, and was going away when a little dog came out of a hill close by, and running up to him, began tugging at his clothes and whining.‘What do you want, little dog ?’ asked the prince, stooping down to pat his soft black head.The dog ran to a hole that was in the hill and sat there looking out, as much as to say: ‘Come along in with me.’‘I may as well go and see what is in there,’ thought the prince, and he went over to the hill. But the hole was so small that he could not get through it, so he thrust his sword into it, and immediately it became larger.‘Ha, ha !’ he chuckled; ‘it’s worth something to have a sword like that.’ And he bent down and crept through the hole.The first thing he beheld, when he entered a room at the very end of a dark passage, was a beautiful princess, who was bound by an iron chain to an iron pillar.‘What evil fate brought you here ?’ he asked in surprise; and the lady answered:‘It isn’t much use for me to tell you lest my lot becomes yours.’‘I am not afraid of that. Tell me who you are and what has brought you here,’ begged the prince.‘My story is not long,’ she said, smiling sadly. ‘I am a princess from Arabia, and twelve robbers who dwell in this place are fighting among themselves as to which shall have me to wife.’‘Shall I save you ?’ asked the prince. And she answered:‘Yes; but you can’t do it. To begin with, how could you break the chain I am bound with ?’‘Oh, that’s easy enough,’ said he, taking out his sword; and directly it touched the chain the links fell apart and the princess was free.‘Come! ‘ said the prince, taking her hand. But she drew back.‘No, I dare not ! ‘she cried. ‘If we should meet the robbers in the passage they would kill us both.’‘Not they !’ said the prince, brandishing his sword. ‘But how long have you been here ?’ he added quickly.‘About twenty years, I think,’ said the princess, reckoning with her fingers.‘Twenty years !’ exclaimed the prince. ‘Then you had better shut your eyes, for when you have been sitting there so long it might hurt you to go too suddenly into the daylight. So you are the Princess of Arabia, whose beauty is famous throughout all the world! I, too, am a prince.’‘Will you not come back to Arabia and marry me, now you have saved my life ?’ asked the princess. ‘Even if my father is living still, he must be old, and after his death you can be king.’‘No,’ replied the prince, ‘I cannot do that — I must live and die in my own country. But at the end of a year I will follow you and marry you.’ And that was all he would say.Then the princess took a heavy ring from her finger and put it on his. Her father’s and her mother’s names were engraved in it, as well as her own, and she asked him to keep it as a reminder of his promise.‘I will die before I part from it,’ said the prince. ‘And if at the end of a year I am still living, I will come. I believe I have heard that at the other side of this forest there is a port from which ships sail to Arabia. Let us hasten there at once.’Hand in hand they set off through the forest, and when they came to the port they found a ship lust ready to sail. The princess said good-bye to the prince, and went on board the vessel, and when she reached her own country there were great rejoicings, for her parents had never expected to see her again. She told them how a prince had saved her from the robbers, and was coming in a year’s time to marry her, and they were greatly pleased.‘All the same,’ said the king, ‘I wish he were here now. A year is a long time.’When the princess was no longer before his eyes, the prince recollected why he had entered the forest, and made all the haste he could back to the robbers’ home.The robber-chief could smell the apples from afar, for he had a nose like an ogre, and he said to the queen:‘That is a strange fellow ! If he had gone into the forest the wild beasts must have eaten him unless he has a powerful charm to protect him. If that is so we must get it away from him.’‘No, he has nothing,’ answered the queen, who was quite fascinated by the robber.But the robber did not believe her.‘We must think of a way to get it,’ he said. ‘When he comes in say you are well again, and have some food ready for him. Then, whilst he is eating, tell him you dreamed that he was attacked by wild beasts, and ask him how he managed to escape from them. After he has told you I can easily find a way to take his charm from him.’Shortly after the prince came in.‘How are you, mother !’ he said gaily. ‘Here are your apples. Now you will soon be well again, and ready to come away with me.’‘Oh, I am better already,’ she said. ‘And see, your dinner is all hot for you; eat it up, and then we will start.’Whilst he was eating she said to him: ‘I had a horrible dream while you were away. I saw you in a forest full of wild animals, and they were running round you and growling fiercely. How did you manage to escape from them ?’‘Oh, it was only a dream!’ laughed the prince.‘But my dreams are always true,’ said his mother. Tell me how it was.’The prince wondered for some time whether he should tell her or not, but at last he decided to let her into the secret.‘One should tell one’s mother everything,’ he thought. And he told her.‘See, mother, here are a sword and a mail shirt which I found in the first house we entered in the forest, and as long as I carry them nothing can hurt me. That is what saved me from the wild beasts.’‘How can I be thankful enough !’ exclaimed the queen. And directly the prince’s back was turned, she hurried to tell the robber.The robber, as soon as he heard the news, made a sleeping-draught, and bade the queen give it to her son before he went to bed that night.Accordingly, as soon as the prince began to get sleepy, the queen handed him the cup containing the draught.‘Drink this, to please me,’ she said. ‘It will do you good after all you’ve gone through, and make you sleep well.’‘What an odd taste it has ! ‘ murmured the prince as he drank it.Immediately he fell asleep; and the robber came in and took away his sword and shirt of mail.‘These things belong to my brother,’ he said. After he had got them both in his hand the robber woke him.I am the master now,’ said he. ‘Choose one of two things — either you must die, or your eyes will be put out, and you will be sent back to the forest.’The prince’s blood grew cold at these words. Then a thought struck him, and he turned to his mother: ‘Is this your doing ?’ he asked sternly. And though she burst into tears and denied it, the prince knew she was not telling the truth.‘Well,’ said he, ‘”whilst there is life there is hope.” I will go back to the forest.’Then the robber put out his eyes, gave him a stick, and some food and drink, and drove him into the forest, hoping that the ‘wild beasts would kill him, as he no longer had the sword and shirt to protect him.‘Now,’ he said to the queen, ‘we will return to your country.’The next day they set sail, and as soon as they reached home, they were married, and the robber became king.Meanwhile the poor prince was wandering about in the forest, hoping to find someone who would help him, and perhaps take him into service, for now he had no money and no home. It so happened that there had been a great hunt in the forest, and the wild beasts had all fled before the hunters and were hiding, so nothing did him any harm. At last, one day, just when his food was all gone and he had made up his mind that he must surely die of hunger, he came to the port whence the ships sailed for Arabia. One vessel was just ready to start, and the captain was going on board when he saw the prince.‘Why, here is a poor blind fellow !’ he said. ‘No doubt that is the work of the robbers. Let us take him to Arabia with us. Would you like to come, my good man ?’ he asked the prince.Oh, how glad he was to hear someone speak kindly to him again ! And he answered that he would, and the sailors helped him to climb up the side of the ship. When they got to Arabia the captain took him to the public baths, and ordered one of the slaves to wash him. Whilst he was being washed the princess’s ring slipped off his finger and was afterwards found by the slave who cleaned out the bath. The man showed it to a friend of his who lived at the palace.‘Why, it is the princess’s ring ! ‘he said. ‘Where did it come from ?’‘It fell off a blind man’s finger,’ said the slave. ‘He must have stolen it; but I dare say you will be able to return it to the princess.’So that evening the man took the ring to the palace and gave it to his daughter, who was the princess’s favourite slave, and the girl gave it to her mistress. When the princess saw it she uttered a cry of joy.‘It is the ring I gave my betrothed !’ she said. ‘Take me to him at once.’The bath-keeper thought it strange that the princess should be betrothed to a blind beggar, but he did as she bade him, and when she saw the prince she cried:‘At last you have come ! The year is over, and I thought you were dead. Now we will be married immediately.’ And she went home and told the king that he was to send an escort to bring her betrothed to the palace. Naturally the king was rather surprised at the sudden arrival of the prince; but when he heard that he was blind he was very much annoyed.‘I cannot have a blind person to succeed me,’ he said. ‘It is perfectly absurd !But the princess had had her own way all her life, and in the end the king gave way as he had always done. The prince was taken to the palace with much ceremony and splendour; but in spite of this the king was not contented. Still, it could not be helped, and really it was time the princess was married, though she looked as young as ever. There had been hundreds of knights and princes who had begged her to bestow her hand upon them, but she would have nothing to do with anyone; and now she had taken it into her head to marry this blind prince, and nobody else would she have.One evening, as it was fine, the prince and princess went into the garden, and sat down under a tree.Two ravens were perched on a bush near by, and the prince, who could understand bird language, heard one of them say: ‘Do you know that it is Midsummer-eve to-night ?’‘Yes,’ said the other.‘And do you know that part of the garden which is known as the Queen’s Bed ?’‘Well, perhaps you don’t know this, that whoever has bad eyes, or no eyes at all, should bathe his eye-sockets in the dew that falls there to-night, because then he will get his sight back. Only he must do it between twelve and one o’clock.’That was good news for the prince and princess to hear, and the young man begged the princess to lead him to the place called the Queen’s Bed, which was the little plot of grass where the queen used often to lie down. and take her midday nap. Then, between twelve and one o’clock, he bathed his eyes with the dew that was falling there, and found he could see again as well as ever.‘I can see you !’ he said to the princess, gazing at her as if he had never seen anything before.‘I don’t believe it,’ she answered.‘Well, go and hang your handkerchief on a bush, and if I find it at once you must believe me,’ he said.And so she did, and he went straight up to the handkerchief.‘Yes, indeed, you can see,’ cried the princess. ‘To think that my mother’s bed has really given back your sight !’ and she went to the bank and sat down again; and by-and-by, as the day was hot, the princess fell asleep. As the prince watched her he suddenly saw something shining on her neck. It was a little golden lamp that gave out a bright light, and it hung from a golden chain. The prince thought he would like to examine it more closely, so he unfastened the chain, but as he did so the lamp fell to the ground. Before he could pick it up a hawk flew in, snatched up the little lamp and flew away again with it. The prince set off in pursuit, and ran on and on without being able to catch the bird, until at length he had lost his way. Trying to find it, he wandered on, up and down, until he came to the forest where he had found the princess.Meantime, the princess woke up, and finding herself alone she set out to look for him. In the end she also lost her way, and as she was walking about, not knowing what to do, the robbers captured her and took her back to the cave from which the prince had rescued her. So there they were after all their trouble — no better off than before !The prince wandered on, trying to find his way back to Arabia, until he chanced one day to meet twelve youths, walking gaily through the forest, singing and laughing. ‘Where are you going ?’ he asked. And they told him they were looking for work.‘I’ll join you, if I may,’ said the prince. And they answered: ‘The more the merrier.’Then the prince went with them, and they all journeyed on until they met an old troll.‘Where are you going, my masters ?’ asked the troll.‘To seek service,’ they told him.‘Then come and serve me,’ he said; ‘there will be plenty to eat and drink, and not much work to do, and if, at the end of a year, you can answer three questions, I’ll give you each a sack of gold. Otherwise you must be turned into beasts.’The youths thought this sounded easy enough, so they went home with the troll to his castle.‘You will find all that you want here,’ he said; ‘and all you need do is to take care of the house, for I am going away, and shall only return when the year is over.’Then he went away, and the young men, left to themselves, had a fine time of it; for they did no work, and only amused themselves with singing and drinking. Every day they found the table laid with good things to eat and drink, and when they had finished, the plates and dishes were cleared away by invisible hands. Only the prince, who was sad for his lost princess, ate and drank sparingly, and worked hard keeping the house in order.One day, as he sat in his own room, he heard the voice of the old troll beneath his window talking to another troll.‘To-morrow,’ said he, ‘the year is up.’‘And what questions will you ask ?’ inquired the other.‘First I shall ask how long they have been here — they don’t know, the young fools ! Secondly I shall ask what shines on the roof of the castle.’‘And what is that ?’‘The lamp that was stolen by me from the princess as she slept in the garden.’‘And what is the third question ?’‘I shall ask where the food and drink they consume every day come from. I steal it from the king’s table; but they don’t know that.’The day after, the troll entered.‘Now I shall ask my questions,’ said he. ‘To begin with: How long have you been here ?’The young men had been so busy drinking and making merry that they had forgotten all about the agreement, so they remained silent.‘One week,’ said one, at last.‘Two months,’ guessed another. But the prince answered, ‘One year.’‘Right,’ replied the troll. But the second question was more difficult.‘What is it that shines on the roof ?’The young men guessed and guessed. ‘The sun — the moon.’ But none of them really knew.‘May I answer ?’ asked the prince.‘Yes, certainly,’ replied the troll; and the prince spoke.‘The lamp that you stole from the princess whilst she was asleep in the garden.’ And again the troll nodded.The third question was harder still.‘Where does the meat and drink you have had here come from ?’None of the young men could guess.‘May I say ?’ asked the prince.‘Yes, if you can,’ replied the troll.‘It comes from the king’s table,’ said the prince.And that was all. Now they might take the sacks of gold and go, and the young men went off in such a hurry that the prince was left behind. Presently, they met an old man who asked for money.‘No, we haven’t any,’ they answered.So they hurried on, and by-and-by up came the prince.‘Has your lordship a piece of money for a poor man ?’ asked the old fellow.‘Yes,’ said the prince, and gave him his whole sackful.‘I don’t want it,’ said the old man, who was really the troll they had just left in disguise. ‘But since you’re so generous, here is the princess’s lamp, and the princess herself is in the cave where you found her; but how you’re going to save her again without the magic sword I don’t know.’When he heard that, the prince knew where she was; and that was the beginning of her rescue. So he disguised himself to look like a pedlar and travelled on until he reached his own city, where his mother, the queen, and the robber-chief were living. Then he went in to a goldsmith’s shop and ordered a great number of kitchen pots to be made out of pure gold. That was not an order the goldsmith had every day, but the things were ready at last, saucepans and kettles and gridirons all of pure gold. Then the prince put them in his basket and went up to the palace, and asked to see the queen.Directly she heard about the wonderful gold pots and pans she came out at once, and began unpacking the basket and admiring the things. She was so absorbed in them that the prince soon found an opportunity to steal into the bedroom and take the sword and shirt which were hung there, and go back again without his mother having noticed his absence.‘The things are all beautiful !’ she said. ‘How much would you take for them ?’‘Name your own price, your majesty,’ answered the prince.‘I really don’t know what to say,’ said the queen. ‘Wait till my husband comes back — men understand such things better; and then, as you are a stranger, he would like to chat with you a little.’ The prince bowed, and waited silently in a corner.Soon after the robber returned.‘Come and see all these lovely gold saucepans !’ cried the queen.But, as the robber entered the room, the prince touched him with the magic sword, and he fell to the ground.‘Perhaps, now you know me, mother,’ the prince said, taking off his disguise, ‘you had better repent for all the ‘wrong you have done me, or your life will be short.’‘Oh, have mercy !’ she cried, ‘I could not help it. I was so frightened.’The prince had mercy. He ordered the wicked king to be stripped of his fine clothes, and to be driven into the forest, where the wild beasts tore him to pieces. The queen he sent to her own country. Then he set off for the cave where the princess was sitting chained as before, and with the help of the magic sword he rescued her again without any difficulty. They soon reached the port and set sail for Arabia, where they were married; and till they died, a long while after, they reigned happily over both countries.
Two little children, a boy and a girl, lived long ago with their widowed mother in the Canadian forest. The woman was very poor, for her husband had long been dead and she had to work very hard to provide food for herself and her children. Often she had to go far from home in search of fish and game, and at times she was absent for many days. When she went on these long journeys she left her children behind her, and thus they were allowed to grow up with very little oversight or discipline or care. They soon became very unruly because they were so often left by themselves and when their mother returned from her hunting trips, she frequently found that they would not obey her, and that they did pretty much as they pleased. As they grew older they became more headstrong and disobedient, and their mother could do very little to control them. And she said, “Some day they will suffer for their waywardness.”One day the woman went to visit a neighbour not far away. She left a large pot of bear-fat boiling on the fire. And she said to the children, “Do not meddle with the pot while I am gone, for the fat may harm you if it catches fire.” But she was not gone long when the boy said to the girl as they played around the pot, “Let us see if the fat will burn.” So they took a burning stick of wood and dropped it into the fat, and stood looking into the large pot to see what would happen.The fat sputtered for an instant; then there was a sudden flash, and a tongue of flame shot upwards from the pot into the faces of the children. Their hair was burned to a crisp and their faces were scorched, and they ran from the house crying with pain. But when they reached the outer air, they found that they could not see, for the fire had blinded their eyes. So they stumbled around in darkness, crying loudly for help. But no help came.When their mother came home she tried every remedy she thought might restore their sight. But all her medicine was unavailing, and she said, “You will always be blind. That is the punishment for your disobedience.” So the children lived in darkness for a long time. But they were no longer headstrong and unruly, and although they could no longer see, they were less trouble to their mother than they were when they had their sight, for they did not now refuse to do her bidding.One day, when their mother was far away hunting in the forest, an old woman came along and asked the children for food. And they brought good food to her as she sat before the door. After she had eaten, she said, “You are blind, but I can help you, for I am from the Land of the Little People. I cannot give you four eyes, but I will give you one eye between you. You can each use it at different times, and it will be better than no sight at all. But handle it with great care and do not leave it lying on the ground.” Then she gave them an eye which she took from her pocket, and disappeared. So they used the one eye between them, and when the boy had the eye and the girl wished to see anything, she would say, “Give me the eye,” and her brother would carefully pass it to her. When their mother came home she was very glad when she found that they had now some means of sight.One day when their mother was away again, the boy went into the forest with his bow and arrows. He carried the eye with him. He had not gone far when he saw a fat young deer, which he killed. The deer was too heavy for him to carry home alone. So he said, “I will go and get my sister, and we shall cut it up and put it in a basket and carry it home together.” He went home and told his sister of his good fortune, and he led her to where the deer lay, and they began to cut up the body. But they had forgotten to bring a basket or a bag. He called to his sister saying, “You must weave a basket into which we can put the meat to carry it home.”And his sister said, “How can I make a basket when I cannot see? If I am to weave a basket, I must have the eye.” The boy brought the eye to her and she made a large basket from green twigs.When she had finished making the basket the boy said, “I must finish cutting up the meat. Give me the eye.” So she brought him the eye, and he proceeded to chop up the meat and to put it in the basket. Then he said, “Why can we not have a meal here? I am very hungry.” His sister agreed that this was a good idea, and he said, “You cook the meal while I pack the meat.”The girl made a fire, but she was afraid she would burn the meat, so she said, “I cannot see to cook. I must have the eye.” By this time her brother had finished packing the meat into the basket, and he brought her the eye and she went on with her cooking. The fire was low and she said, “I must have some dry wood. Bring me some dry pine.” The boy wandered off into the forest in search of wood, but he had not gone far when he stumbled over a log and fell to the ground. He called to his sister in anger, saying, “You always want the eye for yourself. How can I gather dry pine when I cannot see? Give me the eye at once.”His sister ran to him and helped him up and gave him the eye. She found her way back to the fire, but as she reached it she smelled the meat burning on the spit. She shouted, “The meat is burning and our dinner will be spoiled. Give me the eye at once, so that I may see if the meat is cooked.” The boy was some distance away, and in his anger he threw the eye to her, saying, “Find it. I am not going to walk to you with it if you are too lazy to come and get it.” The eye fell to the ground between them, and neither of them knew where it lay. They groped for it among the dead leaves, but as they searched for it, a wood-pecker, watching from a branch of a tree near by, swooped suddenly down and gobbled it up and flew away.As they were still searching for it, the old woman who had given it to them came along. She had been hiding among the trees, and she had seen the wood-pecker flying away with her gift. She said, “Where is the eye I gave you?”“It dropped from my head,” answered the boy, “and I cannot find it in the grass.”“Yes,” said the girl, “it dropped from his head, and we cannot find it.”“You have lied to me,” said the old woman, “and you have disobeyed, and for that I shall punish you.” And with her magic power she changed the boy into a mole and the girl into a bat, and said, “Now live blind upon the earth, with only your sense of sound to guide you.” At once the boy and the girl were changed. And so the Mole and the Bat appeared upon the earth.
There was once an enchantress, who had three sons who loved each other as brothers, but the old woman did not trust them, and thought they wanted to steal her power from her. So she changed the eldest into an eagle, which was forced to dwell in the rocky mountains, and was often seen sweeping in great circles in the sky. The second, she changed into a whale, which lived in the deep sea, and all that was seen of it was that it sometimes spouted up a great jet of water in the air. Each of them only bore his human form for two hours daily. The third son, who was afraid she might change him into a raging wild beast a bear perhaps, or a wolf, went secretly away. He had heard that a King’s daughter who was bewitched, was imprisoned in the Castle of the Golden Sun, and was waiting for deliverance. Those, however, who tried to free her risked their lives; three-and-twenty youths had already died a miserable death, and now only one other might make the attempt, after which no more must come. And as his heart was without fear, he caught at the idea of seeking out the Castle of the Golden Sun. He had already travelled about for a long time without being able to find it, when he came by chance into a great forest, and did not know the way out of it. All at once he saw in the distance two giants, who made a sign to him with their hands, and when he came to them they said, “We are quarrelling about a cap, and which of us it is to belong to, and as we are equally strong, neither of us can get the better of the other. The small men are cleverer than we are, so we will leave the decision to thee.” “How can you dispute about an old cap?” said the youth. “Thou dost not know what properties it has! It is a wishing-cap; whosoever puts it on, can wish himself away wherever he likes, and in an instant he will be there.” “Give me the cap,” said the youth, “I will go a short distance off, and when I call you, you must run a race, and the cap shall belong to the one who gets first to me.” He put it on and went away, and thought of the King’s daughter, forgot the giants, and walked continually onward. At length he sighed from the very bottom of his heart, and cried, “Ah, if I were but at the Castle of the Golden Sun,” and hardly had the words passed his lips than he was standing on a high mountain before the gate of the castle.He entered and went through all the rooms, until in the last he found the King’s daughter. But how shocked he was when he saw her. She had an ashen-gray face full of wrinkles, blear eyes, and red hair. “Are you the King’s daughter, whose beauty the whole world praises?” cried he. “Ah,” she answered, “this is not my form; human eyes can only see me in this state of ugliness, but that thou mayst know what I am like, look in the mirror it does not let itself be misled it will show thee my image as it is in truth.” She gave him the mirror in his hand, and he saw therein the likeness of the most beautiful maiden on earth, and saw, too, how the tears were rolling down her cheeks with grief. Then said he, “How canst thou be set free? I fear no danger.” She said, “He who gets the crystal ball, and holds it before the enchanter, will destroy his power with it, and I shall resume my true shape. Ah,” she added, “so many have already gone to meet death for this, and thou art so young; I grieve that thou shouldst encounter such great danger.” “Nothing can keep me from doing it,” said he, “but tell me what I must do.” “Thou shalt know everything,” said the King’s daughter; “when thou descendest the mountain on which the castle stands, a wild bull will stand below by a spring, and thou must fight with it, and if thou hast the luck to kill it, a fiery bird will spring out of it, which bears in its body a burning egg, and in the egg the crystal ball lies like a yolk. The bird will not, however, let the egg fall until forced to do so, and if it fall on the ground, it will flame up and burn everything that is near, and melt even ice itself, and with it the crystal ball, and then all thy trouble will have been in vain.”The youth went down to the spring, where the bull snorted and bellowed at him. After a long struggle he plunged his sword in the animal’s body, and it fell down. Instantly a fiery bird arose from it, and was about to fly away, but the young man’s brother, the eagle, who was passing between the clouds, swooped down, hunted it away to the sea, and struck it with his beak until, in its extremity, it let the egg fall. The egg did not, however, fall into the sea, but on a fisherman’s hut which stood on the shore and the hut began at once to smoke and was about to break out in flames. Then arose in the sea waves as high as a house, they streamed over the hut, and subdued the fire. The other brother, the whale, had come swimming to them, and had driven the water up on high. When the fire was extinguished, the youth sought for the egg and happily found it; it was not yet melted, but the shell was broken by being so suddenly cooled with the water, and he could take out the crystal ball unhurt.When the youth went to the enchanter and held it before him, the latter said, “My power is destroyed, and from this time forth thou art the King of the Castle of the Golden Sun. With this canst thou likewise give back to thy brothers their human form.” Then the youth hastened to the King’s daughter, and when he entered the room, she was standing there in the full splendour of her beauty, and joyfully they exchanged rings with each other.
Once upon a time there was a king who determined to take a long voyage. He assembled his fleet and all the seamen, and set out. They went straight on night and day, until they came to an island which was covered with large trees, and under every tree lay a lion. As soon as the King had landed his men, the lions all rose up together and tried to devour them. After a long battle they managed to overcome the wild beasts, but the greater number of the men were killed. Those who remained alive now went on through the forest and found on the other side of it a beautiful garden, in which all the plants of the world flourished together.There were also in the garden three springs: the first flowed with silver, the second with gold, and the third with pearls. The men unbuckled their knapsacks and filled them with those precious things. In the middle of the garden they found a large lake, and when they reached the edge of it the Lake began to speak, and said to them, ‘What men are you, and what brings you here? Are you come to visit our king?’ But they were too much frightened to answer.Then the Lake said, ‘You do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril that you are come hither. Our king, who has seven heads, is now asleep, but in a few minutes he will wake up and come to me to take his bath! Woe to anyone who meets him in the garden, for it is impossible to escape from him. This is what you must do if you wish to save your lives. Take off your clothes and spread them on the path which leads from here to the castle. The King will then glide over something soft, which he likes very much, and he will be so pleased with that that he will not devour you. He will give you some punishment, but then he will let you go.’The men did as the Lake advised them, and waited for a time. At noon the earth began to quake, and opened in many places, and out of the openings appeared lions, tigers, and other wild beasts, which surrounded the castle, and thousands and thousands of beasts came out of the castle following their king, the Seven-headed Serpent. The Serpent glided over the clothes which were spread for him, came to the Lake, and asked it who had strewed those soft things on the path? The Lake answered that it had been done by people who had come to do him homage. The King commanded that the men should be brought before him. They came humbly on their knees, and in a few words told him their story. Then he spoke to them with a mighty and terrible voice, and said, ‘Because you have dared to come here, I lay upon you the punishment. Every year you must bring me from among your people twelve youths and twelve maidens, that I may devour them. If you do not do this, I will destroy your whole nation.’Then he desired one of his beasts to show the men the way out of the garden, and dismissed them. They then left the island and went back to their own country, where they related what had happened to them. Soon the time came round when the king of the beasts would expect the youths and maidens to be brought to him. The King therefore issued a proclamation inviting twelve youths and twelve maidens to offer themselves up to save their country; and immediately many young people, far more than enough, hastened to do so. A new ship was built, and set with black sails, and in it the youths and maidens who were appointed for the king of the beasts embarked and set out for his country. When they arrived there they went at once to the Lake, and this time the lions did not stir, nor did the springs flow, and neither did the Lake speak. So they waited then, and it was not long before the earth quaked even more terribly than the first time. The Seven-headed Serpent came without his train of beasts, saw his prey waiting for him, and devoured it at one mouthful. Then the ship’s crew returned home, and the same thing happened yearly until many years had passed.Now the King of this unhappy country was growing old, and so was the Queen, and they had no children. One day the Queen was sitting at the window weeping bitterly because she was childless, and knew that the crown would therefore pass to strangers after the King’s death. Suddenly a little old woman appeared before her, holding an apple in her hand, and said, ‘Why do you weep, my Queen, and what makes you so unhappy?’‘Alas, good mother,’ answered the Queen, ‘I am unhappy because I have no children.’‘Is that what vexes you?’ said the old woman. ‘Listen to me. I am a nun from the Spinning Convent, and my mother when she died left me this apple. Whoever eats this apple shall have a child.’The Queen gave money to the old woman, and bought the apple from her. Then she peeled it, ate it, and threw the rind out of the window, and it so happened that a mare that was running loose in the court below ate up the rind. After a time the Queen had a little boy, and the mare also had a male foal. The boy and the foal grew up together and loved each other like brothers. In course of time the King died, and so did the Queen, and their son, who was now nineteen years old, was left alone. One day, when he and his horse were talking together, the Horse said to him, ‘Listen to me, for I love you and wish for your good and that of the country. If you go on every year sending twelve youths and twelve maidens to the King of the Beasts, your country will very soon be ruined. Mount upon my back: I will take you to a woman who can direct you how to kill the Seven-headed Serpent.’Then the youth mounted his horse, who carried him far away to a mountain which was hollow, for in its side was a great underground cavern. In the cavern sat an old woman spinning. This was the cloister of the nuns, and the old woman was the Abbess. They all spent their time in spinning, and that is why the convent has this name. All round the walls of the cavern there were beds cut out of the solid rock, upon which the nuns slept, and in the middle a light was burning. It was the duty of the nuns to watch the light in turns, that it might never go out, and if anyone of them let it go out the others put her to death.As soon as the King’s son saw the old Abbess spinning he threw himself at her feet and entreated her to tell him how he could kill the Seven-headed Serpent.She made the youth rise, embraced him, and said, ‘Know, my son, that it is I who sent the nun to your mother and caused you to be born, and with you the horse, with whose help you will be able to free the world from the monster. I will tell you what you have to do. Load your horse with cotton, and go by a secret passage which I will show you, which is hidden from the wild beasts, to the Serpent’s palace. You will find the King asleep upon his bed, which is all hung round with bells, and over his bed you will see a sword hanging. With this sword only it is possible to kill the Serpent, because even if its blade breaks a new one will grow again for every head the monster has. Thus you will be able to cut off all his seven heads. And this you must also do in order to deceive the King: you must slip into his bed-chamber very softly, and stop up all the bells which are round his bed with cotton. Then take down the sword gently, and quickly give the monster a blow on his tail with it. This will make him waken up, and if he catches sight of you he will seize you. But you must quickly cut off his first head, and then wait till the next one comes up. Then strike it off also, and so go on till you have cut off all his seven heads.’The old Abbess then gave the Prince her blessing, and he set out upon his enterprise, arrived at the Serpent’s castle by following the secret passage which she had shown him, and by carefully attending to all her directions he happily succeeded in killing the monster. As soon as the wild beasts heard of their king’s death, they all hastened to the castle, but the youth had long since mounted his horse and was already far out of their reach. They pursued him as fast as they could, but they found it impossible to overtake him, and he reached home in safety. Thus he freed his country from this terrible oppression.
In the woods stood a cottage. In it lived a man and his wife, but they had no children. Well, they went on a pilgrimage to beseech God to give them a child. God gave them a daughter. She grew and prospered. The prince about that time rode up to the place, as he was out hunting, and sent his attendant, saying: ‘Be so good as to go and ask for a draught of water at yon cottage.’ The attendant went to ask for the water just when the child was weeping, and pearls were rolling down from her eyes. Her mother pacified her; she began to smile; all manner of flowers bloomed. The servant went out and said: ‘Prince, I have seen a little girl; when she weeps, pearls roll down; and when she smiles, all manner of flowers bloom.’ The prince went into the cottage, and began to tease the child to make her cry. She cried, and pearls rolled down. He then begged her mother to pacify her. When she smiled, the prince saw that all manner of flowers bloomed.The girl continued to grow, and the prince always rode round that way when he went hunting. Well, she grew up. The prince said: ‘Old man, give me your daughter to wife.’ She now embroidered handkerchiefs with eagles. But the emperor said: ‘Where are your wits gone to, my son, that you want to take a peasant girl to wife?’ Then the prince took one of the handkerchiefs that she had embroidered, and carried it to the emperor, whereat the emperor clapped his hands. ‘Marry,’ said he, ‘my son, marry!’ Then he conducted her homeward, but in his suite was an old woman who had her daughter with her. Well, as they were on their way, the prince stopped to shoot something, and the old woman took everything from the damsel, scooped out her eyes, and thrust her into a cavern in the ground, and dressed her daughter in her apparel; so the prince took her to wife without recognising her.But round the cavern there grew a multitude of bushes. An old man came to gather brushwood. The girl, the damsel, was sitting in the cavern, and in front of her a heap of pearls, which she had wept as she sat; but she had no eyes. ‘Take me,’ said she, ‘kind old man, and pick up this jewellery here.’ Well, the old man took her, collected the jewellery, and led her home. At the old man’s there were no children, but there was an old woman. She, the damsel, said: ‘Collect the jewellery in a bag, and carry it to the town for sale; and if a certain old woman meets you, then don’t sell to her, but say: “Give what you have about you.”’ Well, he carried it to the town and met the old woman. The old woman said: ‘Sell me the jewellery!’ ‘Purchase.’ ‘How much for it?’ ‘Give what you have about you?’ She gave him an eye. Then the damsel began with one eye to embroider a handkerchief. Again the old man carried jewellery to the town. The old woman again said: ‘Old man, sell me the jewellery!’ ‘Purchase.’ ‘How much for it?’ ‘Give what you have about you?’ She gave him the other eye. The damsel then began to embroider still more beautifully. The old man said: ‘There’s a dinner at the emperor’s.’ The damsel said to him: ‘Go, kind old man, to the dinner and take a jug, that you may beg some soup for me.’ She also tied a handkerchief of her own sewing on the old man’s neck. When the prince espied the handkerchief on the old man’s neck, he cried: ‘Whence come you, old man?’ ‘From the farm yonder, prince; and there is also a damsel living at my house, so be so kind as to give her something in this jug.’ ‘But, old man, where did you get that handkerchief?’ ‘I found a damsel in a cavern in the ground, and she embroidered it.’ The prince at once recognised it by the embroidery. ‘’Tis she! ’tis she!’ But the old woman’s daughter he packed off to tend swine. That’s all.
One day a wolverine was out walking on the hill-side, when, on turning a corner, he suddenly saw a large rock.‘Was that you I heard walking about just now?’ he asked, for wolverines are cautious animals, and always like to know the reasons of things.‘No, certainly not,’ answered the rock; ‘I don’t know how to walk.’‘But I SAW you walking,’ continued the wolverine.‘I am afraid that you were not taught to speak the truth,’ retorted the rock.‘You need not speak like that, for I have SEEN you walking,’ replied the wolverine, ‘though I am quite sure that you could never catch ME!’ and he ran a little distance and then stopped to see if the rock was pursuing him; but, to his vexation, the rock was still in the same place. Then the wolverine went up close, and struck the rock a blow with his paw, saying: ‘Well, will you catch me NOW?’‘I can’t walk, but I can ROLL,’ answered the rock.And the wolverine laughed and said: ‘Oh, that will do just as well’; and began to run down the side of the mountain.At first he went quite slowly, ‘just to give the rock a chance,’ he thought to himself; but soon he quickened his pace, for he found that the rock was almost at his heels. But the faster the wolverine ran, the faster the rock rolled, and by-and-by the little creature began to get very tired, and was sorry he had not left the rock to itself. Thinking that if he could manage to put on a spurt he would reach the forest of great trees at the bottom of the mountain, where the rock could not come, he gathered up all his strength, and instead of running he leaped over sticks and stones, but, whatever he did, the rock was always close behind him. At length he grew so weary that he could not even see where he was going, and catching his foot in a branch he tripped and fell. The rock stopped at once, but there came a shriek from the wolverine:‘Get off, get off! can’t you see that you are on my legs?’‘Why did you not leave me alone?’ asked the rock. ‘I did not want to move–I hate moving. But you WOULD have it, and I certainly sha’n’t move now till I am forced to.’‘I will call my brothers,’ answered the wolverine. ‘There are many of them in the forest, and you will soon see that they are stronger than you.’ And he called, and called, and called, till wolves and foxes and all sorts of other creatures all came running to see what was the matter.‘How DID you get under that rock?’ asked they, making a ring round him; but they had to repeat their question several times before the wolverine would answer, for he, like many other persons, found it hard to confess that he had brought his troubles on himself.‘Well, I was dull, and wanted someone to play with me,’ he said at last, in sulky voice, ‘and I challenged the rock to catch me. Of course I thought I could run the fastest; but I tripped, and it rolled on me. It was just an accident.’‘It serves you right for being so silly,’ said they; but they pushed and hauled at the rock for a long time without making it move an inch.“All the animals try to get the rock off Wolverine’s legs.” Illustration by H.J. Ford. Published in The Brown Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1910), Longmans, Green and Co.‘You are no good at all,’ cried the wolverine crossly, for it was suffering great pain, ‘and if you cannot get me free, I shall see what my friends the lightning and thunder can do.’ And he called loudly to the lightning to come and help him as quickly as possible.In a few minutes a dark cloud came rolling up the sky, giving out such terrific claps of thunder that the wolves and the foxes and all the other creatures ran helter-skelter in all directions. But, frightened though they were, they did not forget to beg the lightning to take off the wolverine’s coat and to free his legs, but to be careful not to hurt him. So the lightning disappeared into the cloud for a moment to gather up fresh strength, and then came rushing down, right upon the rock, which it sent flying in all directions, and took the wolverine’s coat so neatly that, though it was torn into tiny shreds, the wolverine himself was quite unharmed.‘That was rather clumsy of you,’ said he, standing up naked in his flesh. ‘Surely you could have split the rock without tearing my coat to bits!’ And he stooped down to pick up the pieces. It took him a long time, for there were a great many of them, but at last he had them all in his hand.‘I’ll go to my sister the frog,’ he thought to himself, ‘and she will sew them together for me’; and he set off at once for the swamp in which his sister lived.‘Will you sew my coat together? I had an unlucky accident, and it is quite impossible to wear,’ he said, when he found her.‘With pleasure,’ she answered, for she had always been taught to be polite; and getting her needle and thread she began to fit the pieces. But though she was very good-natured, she was not very clever, and she got some of the bits wrong. When the wolverine, who was very particular about his clothes, came to put it on, he grew very angry.‘What a useless creature you are!’ cried he. ‘Do you expect me to go about in such a coat as that? Why it bulges all down the back, as if I had a hump, and it is so tight across the chest that I expect it to burst every time I breathe. I knew you were stupid, but I did not think you were as stupid as that.’ And giving the poor frog a blow on her head, which knocked her straight into the water, he walked off in a rage to his younger sister the mouse.‘I tore my coat this morning,’ he began, when he had found her sitting at the door of her house eating an apple. ‘It was all in little bits, and I took it to our sister the frog to ask her to sew it for me. But just look at the way she has done it! You will have to take it to pieces and fit them together properly, and I hope I shall not have to complain again.’ For as the wolverine was older than the mouse, he was accustomed to speak to her in this manner. However, the mouse was used to it and only answered: ‘I think you had better stay here till it is done, and if there is any alteration needed I can make it.’ So the wolverine sat down on a heap of dry ferns, and picking up the apple, he finished it without even asking the mouse’s leave.At last the coat was ready, and the wolverine put it on.‘Yes, it fits very well,’ said he, ‘and you have sewn it very neatly. When I pass this way again I will bring you a handful of corn, as a reward’; and he ran off as smart as ever, leaving the mouse quite grateful behind him.He wandered about for many days, till he reached a place where food was very scarce, and for a whole week he went without any. He was growing desperate, when he suddenly came upon a bear that was lying asleep. ‘Ah! here is food at last!’ thought he; but how was he to kill the bear, who was so much bigger than himself? It was no use to try force, he must invent some cunning plan which would get her into his power. At last, after thinking hard, he decided upon something, and going up to the bear, he exclaimed: ‘Is that you, my sister?’The bear turned round and saw the wolverine, and murmuring to herself, so low that nobody could hear, ‘I never heard before that I had a brother,’ got up and ran quickly to a tree, up which she climbed. Now the wolverine was very angry when he saw his dinner vanishing in front of him, especially as HE could not climb trees like the bear, so he followed, and stood at the foot of the tree, shrieking as loud as he could, ‘Come down, sister; our father has sent me to look for you! You were lost when you were a little girl and went out picking berries, and it was only the other day that we heard from a beaver where you were.’ At these words, the bear came a little way down the tree, and the wolverine, seeing this, went on:‘Are you not fond of berries? I am! And I know a place where they grow so thick the ground is quite hidden. Why, look for yourself! That hillside is quite red with them!’‘I can’t see so far,’ answered the bear, now climbing down altogether. ‘You must have wonderfully good eyes! I wish I had; but my sight is very short.’‘So was mine till my father smashed a pailful of cranberries, and rubbed my eyes with them,’ replied the wolverine. ‘But if you like to go and gather some of the berries I will do just as he did, and you will soon be able to see as far as me.’It took the bear a long while to gather the berries, for she was slow about everything, and, besides, it made her back ache to stoop. But at last she returned with a sackful, and put them down beside the wolverine. ‘That is splendid, sister!’ cried the wolverine. ‘Now lie flat on the ground with your head on this stone, while I smash them.’The bear, who was very tired, was only too glad to do as she was bid, and stretched herself comfortably on the grass.‘I am ready now,’ said the wolverine after a bit; ‘just at first you will find that the berries make your eyes smart, but you must be careful not to move, or the juice will run out, and then it will have to be done all over again.’So the bear promised to lie very still; but the moment the cranberries touched her eyes she sprang up with a roar.‘Oh, you mustn’t mind a little pain,’ said the wolverine, ‘it will soon be over, and then you will see all sorts of things you have never dreamt of.’ The bear sank down with a groan, and as her eyes were full of cranberry juice, which completely blinded her, the wolverine took up a sharp knife and stabbed her to the heart.Then he took off the skin, and, stealing some fire from a tent, which his sharp eyes had perceived hidden behind a rock, he set about roasting the bear bit by bit. He thought the meat was the best he ever had tasted, and when dinner was done he made up his mind to try that same trick again, if ever he was hungry.And very likely he did!
Once upon a time, a very long time ago indeed, there lived a King who had made a vow never to eat bread or break his fast until he had given away a hundredweight of gold in charity.So, every day, before King Karan—for that was his name—had his breakfast, the palace servants would come out with baskets and baskets of gold pieces to scatter amongst the crowds of poor folk, who, you may be sure, never forgot to be there to receive the alms.How they used to hustle and bustle and struggle and scramble! Then, when the last golden piece had been fought for, King Karan would sit down to his breakfast, and enjoy it as a man who has kept his word should do.Now, when people saw the King lavishing his gold in this fashion, they naturally thought that sooner or later the royal treasuries must give out, the gold come to an end, and the King—who was evidently a man of his word—die of starvation. But, though months and years passed by, every day, just a quarter of an hour before breakfast-time, the servants came out of the palace with baskets and baskets of gold; and as the crowds dispersed they could see the King sitting down to his breakfast in the royal banqueting hall, as jolly, and fat, and hungry, as could be.Now, of course, there was some secret in all this, and this secret I shall now tell you. King Karan had made a compact with a holy and very hungry old faqîr who lived at the top of the hill; and the compact was this: on condition of King Karan allowing himself to be fried and eaten for breakfast every day, the faqîr gave him a hundredweight of pure gold.Of course, had the faqîr been an ordinary sort of person, the compact would not have lasted long, for once King Karan had been fried and eaten, there would have been an end of the matter. But the faqîr was a very remarkable faqîr indeed, and when he had eaten the King, and picked the bones quite quite clean, he just put them together, said a charm or two, and, hey presto! there was King Karan as fat and jolly as ever, ready for the next morning’s breakfast. In fact, the faqîr made no bones at all over the affair, which, it must be confessed, was very convenient both for the breakfast and the breakfast eater. Nevertheless, it was of course not pleasant to be popped alive every morning into a great frying-pan of boiling oil; and for my part I think King Karan earned his hundredweight of gold handsomely. But after a time he got accustomed to the process, and would go up quite cheerfully to the holy and hungry one’s house, where the biggest frying-pan was spitting and sputtering over the sacred fire. Then he would just pass the time of day to the faqîr to make sure he was punctual, and step gracefully into his hot oil bath. My goodness! how he sizzled and fizzled! When he was crisp and brown, the faqîr ate him, picked the bones, set them together, sang a charm, and finished the business by bringing out his dirty, old ragged coat, which he shook and shook, while the bright golden pieces came tumbling out of the pockets on to the floor.So that was the way King Karan got his gold, and if you think it very extraordinary, so do I!Now, in the great Mansarobar Lake, where, as of course you know, all the wild swans live when they leave us, and feed upon seed pearls, there was a great famine. Pearls were so scarce that one pair of swans determined to go out into the world and seek for food. So they flew into King Bikramâjît’s garden, at Ujjayin. Now, when the gardener saw the beautiful birds, he was delighted, and, hoping to induce them to stay, he threw them grain to eat. But they would not touch it, nor any other food he offered them; so he went to his master, and told him there were a pair of swans in the garden who refused to eat anything.Then King Bikramâjît went out, and asked them in birds’ language (for, as every one knows, Bikramâjît understood both beasts and birds) why it was that they ate nothing.‘We don’t eat grain!’ said they, ‘nor fruit, nor anything but fresh unpierced pearls!’Whereupon King Bikramâjît, being very kind-hearted, sent for a basket of pearls; and every day, when he came into the garden, he fed the swans with his own hand.But one day, when he was feeding them as usual, one of the pearls happened to be pierced. The dainty swans found it out at once, and coming to the conclusion that King Bikramâjît’s supply of pearls was running short, they made up their minds to go farther afield. So, despite his entreaties, they spread their broad white wings, and flew up into the blue sky, their outstretched necks pointing straight towards home on the great Mansarobar Lake. Yet they were not ungrateful, for as they flew they sang the praises of Bikramâjît.Now, King Karan was watching his servants bring out the baskets of gold, when the wild swans came flying over his head; and when he heard them singing, ‘Glory to Bikramâjît! Glory to Bikramâjît!’ he said to himself, ‘Who is this whom even the birds praise? I let myself be fried and eaten every day in order that I may be able to give away a hundredweight of gold in charity, yet no swan sings my song!’So, being jealous, he sent for a bird-catcher, who snared the poor swans with lime, and put them in a cage.Then Karan hung the cage in the palace, and ordered his servants to bring every kind of birds’ food; but the proud swans only curved their white necks in scorn, saying, ‘Glory to Bikramâjît!—he gave us pearls to eat!’Then King Karan, determined not to be outdone, sent for pearls; but still the scornful swans would not touch anything.‘Why will ye not eat?’ quoth King Karan wrathfully; ‘am I not as generous as Bikramâjît?’Then the swan’s wife answered, and said, ‘Kings do not imprison the innocent. Kings do not war against women. If Bikramâjît were here, he would at any rate let me go!’So Karan, not to be outdone in generosity, let the swan’s wife go, and she spread her broad white wings and flew southwards to Bikramâjît, and told him how her husband lay a prisoner at the court of King Karan.Of course Bikramâjît, who was, as every one knows, the most generous of kings, determined to* release the poor captive; and bidding the swan fly back and rejoin her mate, he put on the garb of a servant, and taking the name of Bikrû, journeyed northwards till he came to King Karan’s kingdom. Then he took service with the King, and helped every day to carry out the baskets of golden pieces. He soon saw there was some secret in King Karan’s endless wealth, and never rested until he had found it out. So, one day, hidden close by, he saw King Karan enter the faqîr’s house and pop into the boiling oil. He saw him frizzle and sizzle, he saw him come out crisp and brown, he saw the hungry and holy faqîr pick the bones, and, finally, he saw King Karan, fat and jolly as ever, go down the mountain side with his hundredweight of gold!Then Bikrû knew what to do! So the very next day he rose very early, and taking a carving-knife, he slashed himself all over. Next he took some pepper and salt, spices, pounded pomegranate seeds, and pea-flour; these he mixed together into a beautiful curry-stuff, and rubbed himself all over with it—right into the cuts in spite of the smarting. When he thought he was quite ready for cooking, he just went up the hill to the faqîr‘s house, and popped into the frying-pan. The faqîr was still asleep, but he soon awoke with the sizzling and the fizzling, and said to himself, ‘Dear me! how uncommonly nice the King smells this morning!’Indeed, so appetising was the smell, that he could hardly wait until the King was crisp and brown, but then——oh, my goodness! how he gobbled him up!You see, he had been eating plain fried so long that a devilled king was quite a change. He picked the bones ever so clean, and it is my belief would have eaten them too, if he had not been afraid of killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.Then, when it was all over, he put the King together again, and said, with tears in his eyes, ‘What a breakfast that was, to be sure! Tell me how you managed to taste so nice, and I’ll give you anything you ask.’Whereupon Bikrû told him the way it was done, and promised to devil himself every morning, if he might have the old coat in return. ‘For,’ said he, ‘it is not pleasant to be fried! and I don’t see why I should in addition have the trouble of carrying a hundredweight of gold to the palace every day. Now, if I keep the coat, I can shake it down there.’To this the faqîr agreed, and off went Bikrû with the coat.Meanwhile, King Karan came toiling up the hill, and was surprised, when he entered the faqîr‘s house, to find the fire out, the frying-pan put away, and the faqîr himself as holy as ever, but not in the least hungry.‘Why, what is the matter?’ faltered the King.‘Who are you?’ asked the faqîr, who, to begin with, was somewhat short-sighted, and in addition felt drowsy after his heavy meal.‘Who! Why, I’m King Karan, come to be fried! Don’t you want your breakfast?’‘I’ve had my breakfast!’ sighed the faqîr regretfully. ‘You tasted very nice when you were devilled, I can assure you!’‘I never was devilled in my life!’ shouted the King; ‘you must have eaten somebody else!’‘That’s just what I was saying to myself!’ returned the faqîr sleepily; ‘I thought—it couldn’t—be only—the spices—that— ‘—Snore, snore, snore!‘Look here!’ cried King Karan, in a rage, shaking the faqîr,’you must eat me too!’‘Couldn’t!’ nodded the holy but satisfied faqîr, ‘really—not another morsel—no, thanks!’‘Then give me my gold!’ shrieked King Karan; ‘you’re bound to do that, for I’m ready to fulfil my part of the contract!’‘Sorry I can’t oblige, but the devil—I mean the other person—went off with the coat!’ nodded the faqîr.Hearing this, King Karan returned home in despair and ordered the royal treasurer to send him gold; so that day he ate his breakfast in peace.And the next day also, by ransacking all the private treasuries, a hundredweight of gold was forthcoming; so King Karan ate his breakfast as usual, though his heart was gloomy.But the third day, the royal treasurer arrived with empty hands, and, casting himself on the ground, exclaimed, ‘May it please your majesty! there is not any more gold in your majesty’s domains!’Then King Karan went solemnly to bed, without any breakfast, and the crowd, after waiting for hours expecting to see the palace doors open and the servants come out with the baskets of gold, melted away, saying it was a great shame to deceive poor folk in that way!By dinner-time poor King Karan was visibly thinner; but he was a man of his word, and though the wily Bikrû came and tried to persuade him to eat, by saying he could not possibly be blamed, he shook his head, and turned his face to the wall.Then Bikrû, or Bikramâjît, took the faqîr’s old coat, and shaking it before the King, said, ‘Take the money, my friend; and what is more, if you will set the wild swans you have in that cage at liberty, I will give you the coat into the bargain!’So King Karan set the wild swans at liberty, and as the pair of them flew away to the great Mansarobar Lake, they sang as they went, ‘Glory to Bikramâjît! the generous Bikramâjît!’Then King Karan hung his head, and said to himself, ‘The swans’ song is true!—Bikramâjît is more generous than I; for if I was fried for the sake of a hundredweight of gold and my breakfast, he was devilled in order to set a bird at liberty!’
Once there was an old man and woman and a little girl, and they all lived in a house made of hempstalks. Now the old man had a little dog named Turpie; and one night the Hobyahs came and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off his tail.” So in the morning the old man cut off little dog Turpie’s tail.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off one of his legs.” So in the morning the old man cut off one of little dog Turpie’s legs.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off another of his legs.” So in the morning the old man cut off another of little dog Turpie’s legs.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off another of his legs.” So in the morning the old man cut off another of little dog Turpie’s legs.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off another of his legs.” So in the morning the old man cut off another of little dog Turpie’s legs.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” But little dog Turpie barked so that the Hobyahs ran off; and the old man said, “Little dog Turpie barks so that I cannot sleep nor slumber, and if I live till morning I will cut off little dog Turpie’s head.” So in the morning the old man cut off little dog Turpie’s head.The next night the Hobyahs came again, and said, “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hempstalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” And when the Hobyahs found that little dog Turpie’s head was off they tore down the hempstalks, ate up the old man and woman, and carried the little girl off in a bag.And when the Hobyahs came to their home they hung up the bag with the little girl in it, and every Hobyah knocked on the top of the bag and said, “Look me! look me!” And then they went to sleep until the next night, for the Hobyahs slept in the daytime.The little girl cried a great deal, and a man with a big dog came that way and heard her crying. When he asked her how she came there and she told him, he put the dog in the bag and took the little girl to his home.The next night the Hobyahs took down the bag and knocked on the top of it, and said “Look me! look me!” and when they opened the bag — the big dog jumped out and ate them all up; so there are no Hobyahs now.
There was once a countryman who had money and land in plenty, but how rich soever he was, one thing was still wanting in his happiness—he had no children. Often when he went into the town with the other peasants they mocked him and asked why he had no children. At last he became angry, and when he got home he said, “I will have a child, even if it be a hedgehog.” Then his wife had a child, that was a hedgehog in the upper part of his body, and a boy in the lower, and when she saw the child, she was terrified, and said, “See, there thou hast brought ill-luck on us.” Then said the man, “What can be done now? The boy must be christened, but we shall not be able to get a godfather for him.” The woman said, “And we cannot call him anything else but Hans the Hedgehog.”When he was christened, the parson said, “He cannot go into any ordinary bed because of his spikes.” So a little straw was put behind the stove, and Hans the Hedgehog was laid on it. His mother could not suckle him, for he would have pricked her with his quills. So he lay there behind the stove for eight years, and his father was tired of him and thought, “If he would but die!” He did not die, however, but remained lying there. Now it happened that there was a fair in the town, and the peasant was about to go to it, and asked his wife what he should bring back with him for her. “A little meat and a couple of white rolls which are wanted for the house,” said she. Then he asked the servant, and she wanted a pair of slippers and some stockings with clocks. At last he said also, “And what wilt thou have, Hans my Hedgehog?” “Dear father,” he said, “do bring me bagpipes.” When, therefore, the father came home again, he gave his wife what he had bought for her; meat and white rolls, and then he gave the maid the slippers, and the stockings with clocks; and, lastly, he went behind the stove, and gave Hans the Hedgehog the bagpipes. And when Hans the Hedgehog had the bagpipes, he said, “Dear father, do go to the forge and get the cock shod, and then I will ride away, and never come back again.” On this, the father was delighted to think that he was going to get rid of him, and had the cock shod for him, and when it was done, Hans the Hedgehog got on it, and rode away, but took swine and asses with him which he intended to keep in the forest. When they got there he made the cock fly on to a high tree with him, and there he sat for many a long year, and watched his asses and swine until the herd was quite large, and his father knew nothing about him. While he was sitting in the tree, however, he played his bagpipes, and made music which was very beautiful. Once a King came travelling by who had lost his way and heard the music. He was astonished at it, and sent his servant forth to look all round and see from whence this music came. He spied about, but saw nothing but a little animal sitting up aloft on the tree, which looked like a cock with a hedgehog on it which made this music. Then the King told the servant he was to ask why he sat there, and if he knew the road which led to his kingdom. So Hans the Hedgehog descended from the tree, and said he would show the way if the King would write a bond and promise him whatever he first met in the royal courtyard as soon as he arrived at home. Then the King thought, “I can easily do that, Hans the Hedgehog understands nothing, and I can write what I like.” So the King took pen and ink and wrote something, and when he had done it, Hans the Hedgehog showed him the way, and he got safely home. But his daughter, when she saw him from afar, was so overjoyed that she ran to meet him, and kissed him. Then he remembered Hans the Hedgehog, and told her what had happened, and that he had been forced to promise whatsoever first met him when he got home, to a very strange animal which sat on a cock as if it were a horse, and made beautiful music, but that instead of writing that he should have what he wanted, he had written that he should not have it. Thereupon the princess was glad, and said he had done well, for she never would have gone away with the Hedgehog.Hans the Hedgehog, however, looked after his asses and pigs, and was always merry and sat on the tree and played his bagpipes.Now it came to pass that another King came journeying by with his attendants and runners, and he also had lost his way, and did not know how to get home again because the forest was so large. He likewise heard the beautiful music from a distance, and asked his runner what that could be, and told him to go and see. Then the runner went under the tree, and saw the cock sitting at the top of it, and Hans the Hedgehog on the cock. The runner asked him what he was about up there? “I am keeping my asses and my pigs; but what is your desire?” The messenger said that they had lost their way, and could not get back into their own kingdom, and asked if he would not show them the way. Then Hans the Hedgehog got down the tree with the cock, and told the aged King that he would show him the way, if he would give him for his own whatsoever first met him in front of his royal palace. The King said, “Yes,” and wrote a promise to Hans the Hedgehog that he should have this. That done, Hans rode on before him on the cock, and pointed out the way, and the King reached his kingdom again in safety. When he got to the courtyard, there were great rejoicings. Now he had an only daughter who was very beautiful; she ran to meet him, threw her arms round his neck, and was delighted to have her old father back again. She asked him where in the world he had been so long. So he told her how he had lost his way, and had very nearly not come back at all, but that as he was travelling through a great forest, a creature, half hedgehog, half man, who was sitting astride a cock in a high tree, and making music, had shown him the way and helped him to get out, but that in return he had promised him whatsoever first met him in the royal court-yard, and how that was she herself, which made him unhappy now. But on this she promised that, for love of her father, she would willingly go with this Hans if he came.Hans the Hedgehog, however, took care of his pigs, and the pigs multiplied until they became so many in number that the whole forest was filled with them. Then Hans the Hedgehog resolved not to live in the forest any longer, and sent word to his father to have every stye in the village emptied, for he was coming with such a great herd that all might kill who wished to do so. When his father heard that, he was troubled, for he thought Hans the Hedgehog had died long ago. Hans the Hedgehog, however, seated himself on the cock, and drove the pigs before him into the village, and ordered the slaughter to begin. Ha!—but there was a killing and a chopping that might have been heard two miles off! After this Hans the Hedgehog said, “Father, let me have the cock shod once more at the forge, and then I will ride away and never come back as long as I live.” Then the father had the cock shod once more, and was pleased that Hans the Hedgehog would never return again.Hans the Hedgehog rode away to the first kingdom. There the King had commanded that whosoever came mounted on a cock and had bagpipes with him should be shot at, cut down, or stabbed by every one, so that he might not enter the palace. When, therefore, Hans the Hedgehog came riding thither, they all pressed forward against him with their pikes, but he spurred the cock and it flew up over the gate in front of the King’s window and lighted there, and Hans cried that the King must give him what he had promised, or he would take both his life and his daughter’s. Then the King began to speak his daughter fair, and beg her to go away with Hans in order to save her own life and her father’s. So she dressed herself in white, and her father gave her a carriage with six horses and magnificent attendants together with gold and possessions. She seated herself in the carriage, and placed Hans the Hedgehog beside her with the cock and the bagpipes, and then they took leave and drove away, and the King thought he should never see her again. He was however, deceived in his expectation, for when they were at a short distance from the town, Hans the Hedgehog took her pretty clothes off, and pierced her with his hedgehog’s skin until she bled all over. “That is the reward of your falseness,” said he, “go your way, I will not have you!” and on that he chased her home again, and she was disgraced for the rest of her life.Hans the Hedgehog, however, rode on further on the cock, with his bagpipes, to the dominions of the second King to whom he had shown the way. This one however, had arranged that if any one resembling Hans the Hedgehog should come, they were to present arms, give him safe conduct, cry long life to him, and lead him to the royal palace.But when the King’s daughter saw him she was terrified, for he looked quite too strange. She remembered however, that she could not change her mind, for she had given her promise to her father. So Hans the Hedgehog was welcomed by her, and married to her, and had to go with her to the royal table, and she seated herself by his side, and they ate and drank. When the evening came and they wanted to go to sleep, she was afraid of his quills, but he told her she was not to fear, for no harm would befall her, and he told the old King that he was to appoint four men to watch by the door of the chamber, and light a great fire, and when he entered the room and was about to get into bed, he would creep out of his hedgehog’s skin and leave it lying there by the bedside, and that the men were to run nimbly to it, throw it in the fire, and stay by it until it was consumed. When the clock struck eleven, he went into the chamber, stripped off the hedgehog’s skin, and left it lying by the bed. Then came the men and fetched it swiftly, and threw it in the fire; and when the fire had consumed it, he was delivered, and lay there in bed in human form, but he was coal-black as if he had been burnt. The King sent for his physician who washed him with precious salves, and anointed him, and he became white, and was a handsome young man. When the King’s daughter saw that she was glad, and the next morning they arose joyfully, ate and drank, and then the marriage was properly solemnized, and Hans the Hedgehog received the kingdom from the aged King.When several years had passed he went with his wife to his father, and said that he was his son. The father, however, declared he had no son—he had never had but one, and he had been born like a hedgehog with spikes, and had gone forth into the world. Then Hans made himself known, and the old father rejoiced and went with him to his kingdom.My tale is done,And away it has runTo little August’s house.
Once long ago, when the Indians dwelt in the country in the north-west, a youth went far away from his native village to catch birds. His people lived near a lake where only small birds nested, and as he wanted large and bright-colored feathers for his arrows and his bonnet he had to go far into the forest, where larger birds of brilliant plumage lived. When he reached the Land of Many Feathers far in the north country, he dug a pit on the top of a high hill. Then he covered the pit with poles and over the poles he spread grass and leaves so that the place looked like the earth around it. He put meat and corn on the grass, and tied the food to the poles so that the birds could not carry it away. Then he climbed down into the pit and waited for the birds to come, when he could reach up and catch them by the feet and kill them.All day long and far into the night the youth waited for birds, but no birds came. Towards morning he heard a distant sound like that of a partridge drumming. But the sound did not come nearer. The next night, as the youth watched and waited in the pit, he heard the same sound, and he said, “I will see where the noise comes from and I will discover the cause, for it is not a partridge, and it is very strange.” So he climbed out of the pit and went in the direction of the sound. He walked along rapidly through the forest until he came at dawn to the shore of a large lake.The drumming came from somewhere in the lake, but as he stood listening to it, the sound suddenly stopped. The next night the youth heard the drumming louder than before. Again he went to the lake. The sound was again distinct as it rose from the water, and when he looked he saw great numbers of birds and animals swimming in the lake in the moonlight. But there was no explanation of the strange sound. As he sat watching the animals and birds, he prayed to his guardian spirit to tell him the cause of the drumming. Soon an old man came along. He was old and bent and wrinkled, but his eyes were kind. The youth gave him some tobacco and they sat down together on the edge of the lake and watched the swimmers in the dim light, and smoked their pipes.“What are you doing here?” asked the old man. “I am trying to learn the cause of the strange drumming,” said the youth.“You do well indeed to seek it,” said the old man, “and to seek to know the cause of all things. Only in that way will you be great and wise. But remember there are some things the cause of which you can never find.”“Where have you come from?” said the boy.“Oh,” said the man, “I lived once upon a time like you in the Country of Fancy where great Dreams dwell, and indeed I live there still, but your dreams are all of the future while mine are of the past. But some day you too will change and your thoughts will be like mine.”“Tell me the cause of the drumming,” said the boy.And the old man said, “Take this wand that I will give you and wave it before you go to sleep, and maybe you will see strange things.” Then he gave the boy a wand and disappeared into the forest and the boy never saw him again. The boy waved the wand and fell asleep on the sand as the old man had told him. When he awoke he found himself in a large room in the midst of many people. Some of them were dancing gracefully, and some sat around and talked. They wore wonderful robes of skins and feathers, of many different colours. The boy wished he could get such feathers for his own clothes and his bonnet. But as he looked at the people he was suddenly aware that they were none other than the animals and birds he had seen for two nights swimming in the lake in the moonlight. They were now changed into human form, through some strange and miraculous power. They were very kind to the youth and treated him with great courtesy.At last the dancing ceased and the talking stopped, and one who seemed to be the Chief stood up at the end of the room and said, “Oh, young stranger, the Great Spirit has heard your prayers, and because of your magic wand we have been sent to you in these shapes. The creatures you see here are the animals and birds of the world. I am the Dog, whom the Great Spirit loves well. I have much power, and my power I shall give to you, and I shall always protect you and guard you. And even if you should treat me with cruelty, I shall never be unfaithful to you, nor shall I ever be unkind. But you must take this Dance home with you and teach it to your people and they must celebrate the Dance once a year.” Then he taught the youth the secrets of their Dance.When the youth had learned the Dance, the Chief turned to his companions and said, “My comrades and brothers, I have taught the young stranger the secrets of the Dance. I have given him my own power. Will you not have pity on a creature from earth and give him some of the power of which you too are possessed?”For a long time no one spoke, but at last Owl arose and said, “I too will help him. I have power to see far in the darkness, and to hunt by night. When he goes out at night I will be near him and he shall see a great distance. I give him these feathers to fasten in his hair.” And the Owl gave him a bunch of feathers, which the youth tied to his head.Then Buffalo came forward and said, “I too will help him. I will give him my endurance and my strength, and my power to trample my enemies underfoot. And I give him this belt of tanned buffalo-hide to wear when he goes to war.” And he gave the youth a very wondrous belt to fasten around his waist.The animals and birds, one after the other, gave him gladly of their power. Porcupine gave him quills with which to decorate his leather belt and his bonnet, and he said, “I too will aid you, and when you make war I will be near you. I can make my enemies as weak as children, and they always flee when I approach, for they fear the shooting of my quills. When you meet your foes you will always overcome them, for I give you power as it was given to me.”And Bear said, “I will give you my toughness and my strength, and a strip of fur for your leather belt and your coat. And when you are in danger, I will not be far away.”Then Deer said, “I give you my swiftness so that you may be fleet of foot. And when you pursue your enemies you will always overtake them, and should you flee from them, you will always out-run them in the race.”Then the birds spoke again, and Crane said, “I give you a bone from my wing to make a war-whistle to frighten your enemies away or to summon your people to your assistance when you need them. And I give you my wings for your head-dress.”The giant Eagle then spoke and said, “Oh, youth, I will be with you wherever you go, and I will give you my strength and my power in war. And even as I do, you will always see your enemies from afar, and you can always escape them if you so desire.” And he gave him a large bunch of wonderful eagle feathers to tie in his hair as a token of his fidelity.And finally, Wild-Cat said, “I give you my power to crawl stealthily through the grass and the underbrush and to spring unexpectedly on your foes and take them unawares. And I give you too my power of hiding from my enemies.” And he gave him strips of his fur to decorate his clothing in token of his friendship.From all the animals and the birds the youth received power and gifts. Then he waved his magic wand and lay down to sleep. When he awoke, he found himself on the shore of the lake, and far in the east the dawn was breaking. But he could see farther than he had ever seen before, and away in the distance he could make out blue hills and smoke rising from far-off villages. And he knew that strange power was upon him. But not a sound came from the lake, and the drumming had for ever ended.The youth took his magic wand and his gifts and set out for his home. And he told his people what had happened and he taught them the secrets of the Dance which was to make them strong and victorious in war. And among his people it became a great ceremony and was practiced for long ages, and was known as the Dog-Dance. And since that time, the animals and birds have been friends to the Indians, and the Indians have acquired much of their cunning and skill and power. And ever after the night of moonlight by the lake when the youth with the magic wand received the strange gifts, the Indians have decorated their war clothes with fur and quills and feathers from the animals and the birds. And in the far north country, the Dog-Dance is still held at intervals out of gratitude for the gifts, for the Indians do not forget the promise of long ago.
Once on a time there was a King who had seven sons, and he loved them so much that he could never bear to be without them all at once, but one must always be with him. Now, when they were grown up, six were to set off to woo, but as for the youngest, his father kept him at home, and the others were to bring back a princess for him to the palace.So the King gave the six the finest clothes you ever set eyes on, so fine that the light gleamed from them a long way off, and each had his horse, which cost many, many hundred pounds, and so they set off. Now, when they had been to many palaces, and seen many princesses, at last they came to a King who had six daughters; such lovely king’s daughters they had never seen, and so they fell to wooing them, each one, and when they had got them for sweethearts, they set off home again, but they quite forgot that they were to bring back with them a sweetheart for Boots, their brother, who stayed at home, for they were over head and ears in love with their own sweethearts.(Listen to this and many other Asbjørnsen & Moe fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}But when they had gone a good bit on their way, they passed close by a steep hill-side, like a wall, where the Giant’s house was, and there the Giant came out, and set his eyes upon them, and turned them all into stone, princes and princesses and all. Now the King waited and waited for his six sons, but the more he waited, the longer they stayed away; so he fell into great trouble, and said he should never know what it was to be glad again.“And if I had not you left,” he said to Boots, “I would live no longer, so full of sorrow am I for the loss of your brothers.”“Well, but now I’ve been thinking to ask your leave to set out and find them again; that’s what I’m thinking of,” said Boots.“Nay, nay!” said his father; “that leave you shall never get, for then you would stay away too.”But Boots had set his heart upon it; go he would; and he begged and prayed so long that the King was forced to let him go. Now, you must know the King had no other horse to give Boots but an old broken-down jade, for his six other sons and their train had carried off all his horses; but Boots did not care a pin for that, he sprang up on his sorry old steed.“Farewell, father,” said he; “I’ll come back, never fear, and like enough I shall bring my six brothers back with me;” and with that he rode off.So, when he had ridden a while, he came to a Raven, which lay in the road and flapped its wings, and was not able to get out of the way, it was so starved.“Oh, dear friend,” said the Raven, “give me a little food, and I’ll help you again at your utmost need.”“I haven’t much food,” said the Prince, “and I don’t see how you’ll ever be able to help me much; but still I can spare you a little. I see you want it.”So he gave the raven some of the food he had brought with him.Now, when he had gone a bit further, he came to a brook, and in the brook lay a great Salmon, which had got upon a dry place and dashed itself about, and could not get into the water again.“Oh, dear friend,” said the Salmon to the Prince; “shove me out into the water again, and I’ll help you again at your utmost need.”“Well!” said the Prince, “the help you’ll give me will not be great, I daresay, but it’s a pity you should lie there and choke;” and with that he shot the fish out into the stream again.After that he went a long, long way, and there met him a Wolf which was so famished that it lay and crawled along the road on its belly.“Dear friend, do let me have your horse,” said the Wolf; “I’m so hungry the wind whistles through my ribs; I’ve had nothing to eat these two years.”“No,” said Boots, “this will never do; first I came to a raven, and I was forced to give him my food; next I came to a salmon, and him I had to help into the water again; and now you will have my horse. It can’t be done, that it can’t, for then I should have nothing to ride on.”“Nay, dear friend, but you can help me,” said Graylegs the wolf; “you can ride upon my back, and I’ll help you again in your utmost need.”“Well! the help I shall get from you will not be great, I’ll be bound,” said the Prince; “but you may take my horse, since you are in such need.”So when the Wolf had eaten the horse, Boots took the bit and put it into the Wolf’s jaw, and laid the saddle on his back; and now the Wolf was so strong, after what he had got inside, that he set off with the Prince like nothing. So fast he had never ridden before.“When we have gone a bit farther,” said Graylegs, “I’ll show you the Giant’s house.”So after a while they came to it.“See, here is the Giant’s house,” said the Wolf; “and see, here are your six brothers, whom the Giant has turned into stone; and see, here are their six brides, and away yonder is the door, and in that door you must go.”“Nay, but I daren’t go in,” said the Prince; “he’ll take my life.”“No! no!” said the Wolf; “when you get in you’ll find a Princess, and she’ll tell you what to do to make an end of the Giant. Only mind and do as she bids you.”Well! Boots went in, but, truth to say, he was very much afraid. When he came in the Giant was away, but in one of the rooms sat the Princess, just as the Wolf had said, and so lovely a princess Boots had never yet set eyes on.“Oh! heaven help you! whence have you come?” said the Princess, as she saw him; “it will surely be your death. No one can make an end of the Giant who lives here, for he has no heart in his body.”“Well! well!” said Boots; “but now that I am here, I may as well try what I can do with him; and I will see if I can’t free my brothers, who are standing turned to stone out of doors; and you, too, I will try to save, that I will.”“Well, if you must, you must,” said the Princess; “and so let us see if we can’t hit on a plan. Just creep under the bed yonder, and mind and listen to what he and I talk about. But, pray, do lie as still as a mouse.”So he crept under the bed, and he had scarce got well underneath it, before the Giant came.“Ha!” roared the Giant, “what a smell of Christian blood there is in the house!”“Yes, I know there is,” said the Princess, “for there came a magpie flying with a man’s bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out, but all one can do, the smell doesn’t go off so soon.”So the Giant said no more about it, and when night came, they went to bed. After they had lain a while, the Princess said:“There is one thing I’d be so glad to ask you about, if I only dared.”“What thing is that?” asked the Giant.“Only where it is you keep your heart, since you don’t carry it about you,” said the Princess.“Ah! that’s a thing you’ve no business to ask about; but if you must know, it lies under the door-sill,” said the Giant.“Ho! ho!” said Boots to himself under the bed, “then we’ll soon see if we can’t find it.”Next morning the Giant got up cruelly early, and strode off to the wood; but he was hardly out of the house before Boots and the Princess set to work to look under the door-sill for his heart; but the more they dug, and the more they hunted, the more they couldn’t find it.“He has baulked us this time,” said the Princess, “but we’ll try him once more.”So she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find, and strewed them over the door-sill, which they had laid in its right place again; and when the time came for the Giant to come home again, Boots crept under the bed. Just as he was well under, back came the Giant.Snuff—snuff, went the Giant’s nose. “My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there is in here,” said he.“I know there is,” said the Princess, “for there came a magpie flying with a man’s bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made as much haste as I could to get it out, but I daresay it’s that you smell.”So the Giant held his peace, and said no more about it. A little while after, he asked who it was that had strewed flowers about the door-sill.“Oh, I, of course,” said the Princess.“And, pray, what’s the meaning of all this?” said the Giant.“Ah!” said the Princess, “I’m so fond of you that I couldn’t help strewing them, when I knew that your heart lay under there.”“You don’t say so,” said the Giant; “but after all it doesn’t lie there at all.”So when they went to bed again in the evening, the Princess asked the Giant again where his heart was, for she said she would so like to know.“Well,” said the Giant, “if you must know, it lies away yonder in the cupboard against the wall.”“So, so!” thought Boots and the Princess; “then we’ll soon try to find it.”Next morning the Giant was away early, and strode off to the wood, and so soon as he was gone Boots and the Princess were in the cupboard hunting for his heart, but the more they sought for it, the less they found it.“Well,” said the Princess, “we’ll just try him once more.”So she decked out the cupboard with flowers and garlands, and when the time came for the Giant to come home, Boots crept under the bed again.Then back came the Giant.Snuff—snuff! “My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there is in here!”“I know there is,” said the Princess; “for a little while since there came a magpie flying with a man’s bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out of the house again; but after all my pains, I daresay it’s that you smell.”When the Giant heard that, he said no more about it; but a little while after, he saw how the cupboard was all decked about with flowers and garlands; so he asked who it was that had done that? Who could it be but the Princess?“And, pray, what’s the meaning of all this tomfoolery?” asked the Giant.“Oh, I’m so fond of you, I couldn’t help doing it when I knew that your heart lay there,” said the Princess.“How can you be so silly as to believe any such thing?” said the Giant.“Oh yes; how can I help believing it, when you say it?” said the Princess.“You’re a goose,” said the Giant; “where my heart is, you will never come.”“Well,” said the Princess; “but for all that, ’twould be such a pleasure to know where it really lies.”Then the poor Giant could hold out no longer, but was forced to say:“Far, far away in a lake lies an island; on that island stands a church; in that church is a well; in that well swims a duck; in that duck there is an egg, and in that egg there lies my heart,—you darling!”In the morning early, while it was still grey dawn, the Giant strode off to the wood.“He took a long, long farewell of the Princess, and when he got out of the Giant’s door, there stood the Wolf waiting for him.” Illustration by Kay Nielsen. Published in East of the Sun and West of the Moon by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Engebretsen Moe (1922). George H. Doran Company.“Yes! now I must set off too,” said Boots; “if I only knew how to find the way.” He took a long, long farewell of the Princess, and when he got out of the Giant’s door, there stood the Wolf waiting for him. So Boots told him all that had happened inside the house, and said now he wished to ride to the well in the church, if he only knew the way. So the Wolf bade him jump on his back, he’d soon find the way; and away they went, till the wind whistled after them, over hedge and field, over hill and dale. After they had travelled many, many days, they came at last to the lake. Then the Prince did not know how to get over it, but the Wolf bade him only not be afraid, but stick on, and so he jumped into the lake with the Prince on his back, and swam over to the island. So they came to the church; but the church keys hung high, high up on the top of the tower, and at first the Prince did not know how to get them down.“You must call on the raven,” said the Wolf.So the Prince called on the raven, and in a trice the raven came, and flew up and fetched the keys, and so the Prince got into the church. But when he came to the well, there lay the duck, and swam about backwards and forwards, just as the Giant had said. So the Prince stood and coaxed it, till it came to him, and he grasped it in his hand; but just as he lifted it up from the water the duck dropped the egg into the well, and then Boots was beside himself to know how to get it out again.“Well, now you must call on the salmon to be sure,” said the Wolf; and the king’s son called on the salmon, and the salmon came and fetched up the egg from the bottom of the well.Then the Wolf told him to squeeze the egg, and as soon as ever he squeezed it the Giant screamed out.“Squeeze it again,” said the Wolf; and when the Prince did so, the Giant screamed still more piteously, and begged and prayed so prettily to be spared, saying he would do all that the Prince wished if he would only not squeeze his heart in two.“Tell him, if he will restore to life again your six brothers and their brides, whom he has turned to stone, you will spare his life,” said the Wolf. Yes, the Giant was ready to do that, and he turned the six brothers into king’s sons again, and their brides into king’s daughters.“Now, squeeze the egg in two,” said the Wolf. So Boots squeezed the egg to pieces, and the Giant burst at once.Now, when he had made an end of the Giant, Boots rode back again on the Wolf to the Giant’s house, and there stood all his six brothers alive and merry, with their brides. Then Boots went into the hill-side after his bride, and so they all set off home again to their father’s house. And you may fancy how glad the old king was when he saw all his seven sons come back, each with his bride—“But the loveliest bride of all is the bride of Boots, after all,” said the king, “and he shall sit uppermost at the table, with her by his side.”So he sent out, and called a great wedding-feast, and the mirth was both loud and long, and if they have not done feasting, why, they are still at it.
So Perseus flitted onward to the northeast, over many a league of sea, till he came to the rolling sand-hills and the dreary Lybian shore.And he flitted on across the desert; over rock-ledges, and banks of shingle, and level wastes of sand, and shell-drifts bleaching in the sunshine, and the skeletons of great sea-monsters, and dead bones of ancient giants, strewn up and down upon the old sea-floor. And as he went, the blood-drops fell to the earth from the Gorgon’s head, and became poisonous asps and adders, which breed in the desert to this day.Over the sands he went, he never knew how far or how long, feeding on the fruit which the Nymphs had given him, till he saw the hills of the Psylli, and the Dwarfs who fought with cranes. Their spears were of reeds and rushes, and their houses of the egg-shells of the cranes; and Perseus laughed, and went his way to the northeast, hoping all day long to see the blue Mediterranean sparkling, that he might fly across it to his home.But now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward toward the desert. All day long he strove against it; but even the winged sandals could not prevail. So he was forced to float down the wind all night; and when the morning dawned there was nothing to be seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand.And out of the north the sand-storms rushed upon him, blood-red pillars and wreaths, blotting out the noonday sun; and Perseus fled before them, lest he should be choked by the burning dust. At last the gale fell calm, and he tried to go northward again; but again came down the sand-storms, and swept him back into the waste, and then all was calm and cloudless as before. Seven days he strove against the storms, and seven days he was driven back, till he was spent with thirst and hunger, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Here and there he fancied that he saw a fair lake, and the sunbeams shining on the water; but when he came to it it vanished at his feet, and there was nought but burning sand. And if he had not been of the race of the Immortals, he would have perished in the waste; but his life was strong within him, because it was more than man’s.Then he cried to Athené, and said,—“Oh, fair and pure, if thou hearest me, wilt thou leave me here to die of drought? I have brought thee the Gorgon’s head at thy bidding, and hitherto thou hast prospered my journey; dost thou desert me at the last? Else why will not these immortal sandals prevail, even against the desert storms? Shall I never see my mother more, and the blue ripple round Seriphos, and the sunny hills of Hellas?”So he prayed; and after he had prayed there was a great silence.The heaven was still above his head, and the sand was still beneath his feet; and Perseus looked up, but there was nothing but the blinding sun in the blinding blue; and round him, but there was nothing but the blinding sand.And Perseus stood still awhile, and waited, and said—”Surely I am not here without the will of the Immortals, for Athené will not lie. Were not these sandals to lead me in the right road? Then the road in which I have tried to go must be a wrong road.”Then suddenly his ears were opened, and he heard the sound of running water.And at that his heart was lifted up, though he scarcely dare believe his ears; and weary as he was, he hurried forward, though he could scarcely stand upright; and within a bowshot of him was a glen in the sand, and marble rocks, and date-trees, and a lawn of gay green grass. And through the lawn a streamlet sparkled and wandered out beyond the trees, and vanished in the sand.The water trickled among the rocks, and a pleasant breeze rustled in the dry date-branches and Perseus laughed for joy, and leapt down the cliff, and drank of the cool water, and ate of the dates, and slept upon the turf, and leapt up and went forward again: but not toward the north this time; for he said—”Surely Athené has sent me hither, and will not have me go homeward yet. What, if there be another noble deed to be done, before I see the sunny hills of Hellas?”So he went east, and east forever, by fresh oases and fountains, date-palms, and lawns of grass, till he saw before him a mighty mountain-wall, all rose-red in the setting sun.Then he towered in the air like an eagle, for his limbs were strong again; and he flew all night across the mountain till the day began to dawn, and rosy-fingered Eos came blushing up the sky. And then, behold, beneath him was the long green garden of Egypt and the shining stream of Nile.And he saw cities walled up to heaven, and temples, and obelisks, and pyramids, and giant Gods of stone. And he came down amid fields of barley, and flax, and millet, and clambering gourds; and saw the people coming out of the gates of a great city, and setting to work, each in his place, among the watercourses, parting the streams among the plants cunningly with their feet, according to the wisdom of the Egyptians. But when they saw him they all stopped their work, and gathered round him, and cried,—“Who art thou, fair youth? and what bearest thou beneath thy goat-skin there? Surely thou art one of the Immortals; for thy skin is white like ivory, and ours is red like clay. Thy hair is like threads of gold, and ours is black and curled. Surely thou art one of the Immortals;”—and they would have worshipped him then and there: but Perseus said,—“I am not one of the Immortals; but I am a hero of the Hellens. And I have slain the Gorgon in the wilderness, and bear her head with me. Give me food, therefore, that I may go forward and finish my work.”Then they gave him food, and fruit, and wine; but they would not let him go. And when the news came into the city that the Gorgon was slain, the priests came out to meet him, and the maidens, with songs and dances, and timbrels and harps; and they would have brought him to their temple and to their king; but Perseus put on the hat of darkness, and vanished away out of their sight.Therefore the Egyptians looked long for his return, but in vain, and worshipped him as a hero, and made a statue of him in Chemmis, which stood for many a hundred years; and they said that he appeared to them at times, with sandals a cubit long; and that whenever he appeared the season was fruitful, and the Nile rose high that year.Then Perseus went to the eastward, along the Red Sea shore; and then, because he was afraid to go into the Arabian deserts, he turned northward once more, and this time no storm hindered him.He went past the Isthmus, and Mount Casius, and the vast Serbonian bog, and up the shore of Palestine, where the dark-faced Æthiops dwelt.He flew on past pleasant hills and valleys, like Argos itself, or Lacedæmon, or the fair Vale of Tempe. But the lowlands were all drowned by floods, and the highlands blasted by fire, and the hills heaved like a bubbling cauldron, before the wrath of King Poseidon, the shaker of the earth.And Perseus feared to go inland, but flew along the shore above the sea; and he went on all the day, and the sky was black with smoke; and he went on all the night, and the sky was red with flame.And at the dawn of day he looked toward the cliffs; and at the water’s edge, under a black rock, he saw a white image stand.“This,” thought he, “must surely be the statue of some sea-God; I will go near and see what kind of Gods these barbarians worship.”So he came near; but when he came, it was no statue, but a maiden of flesh and blood; for he could see her tresses streaming in the breeze; and as he came closer still, he could see how she shrank and shivered, when the waves sprinkled her with cold salt spray. Her arms were spread above her head, and fastened to the rock with chains of brass; and her head drooped on her bosom, either with sleep, or weariness, or grief. But now and then she looked up and wailed, and called her mother; yet she did not see Perseus, for the cap of darkness was on his head.Full of pity and indignation Perseus drew near and looked upon the maid. Her cheeks were darker than his were, and her hair was blue-black like a hyacinth; but Perseus thought—”I have never seen so beautiful a maiden; no, not in all our isles. Surely she is a king’s daughter. Do barbarians treat their kings’ daughters thus? She is too fair, at least, to have done any wrong. I will speak to her.”And, lifting the hat from his head, he flashed into her sight. She shrieked with terror, and tried to hide her face with her hair, for she could not with her hands; but Perseus cried,—“Do not fear me, fair one; I am a Hellen, and no barbarian. What cruel men have bound you? But first I will set you free.”And he tore at the fetters; but they were too strong for him; while the maiden cried,—“Touch me not; I am accursed, devoted as a victim to the sea-Gods. They will slay you, if you dare to set me free.”“Let them try,” said Perseus; and drawing Herpé from his thigh, he cut through the brass as if it had been flax.“Now,” he said, “you belong to me, and not to these sea-Gods, whosoever they may be!” But she only called the more on her mother.“Why call on your mother? She can be no mother to have left you here. If a bird is dropped out of the nest, it belongs to the man who picks it up. If a jewel is cast by the wayside, it is his who dare win it and wear it, as I will win you and will wear you. I know now why Pallas Athené sent me hither. She sent me to gain a prize worth all my toil, and more.”And he clasped her in his arms, and cried—”Where are these sea-Gods, cruel and unjust, who doom fair maids to death? I carry the weapons of Immortals. Let them measure their strength against mine! But tell me, maiden, who you are, and what dark fate brought you here.”And she answered, weeping—“I am the daughter of Cepheus, King of Iopa, and my mother is Cassiopœia of the beautiful tresses, and they called me Andromeda, as long as life was mine. And I stand bound here, hapless that I am, for the sea-monster’s food, to atone for my mother’s sin. For she boasted of me once that I was fairer than Atergatis, Queen of the Fishes; so she in her wrath sent the sea-floods, and her brother the Fire King sent the earthquakes, and wasted all the land, and after the floods a monster bred of the slime, who devours all living things. And now he must devour me, guiltless though I am—me who never harmed a living thing, nor saw a fish upon the shore but I gave it life, and threw it back into the sea; for in our land we eat no fish, for fear of Atergatis their Queen. Yet the priests say that nothing but my blood can atone for a sin which I never committed.”But Perseus laughed, and said—”A sea-monster? I have fought with worse than him; I would have faced Immortals for your sake; how much more a beast of the sea?”Then Andromeda looked up at him, and new hope was kindled in her breast, so proud and fair did he stand, with one hand round her, and in the other the glittering sword. But she only sighed, and wept the more, and cried,—“Why will you die, young as you are? Is there not death and sorrow enough in the world already? It is noble for me to die, that I may save the lives of a whole people; but you, better than them all, why should I slay you too? Go you your way; I must go mine.”But Perseus cried—”Not so; for the Lords of Olympus, whom I serve, are the friends of the heroes, and help them on to noble deeds. Led by them, I slew the Gorgon, the beautiful horror; and not without them do I come hither, to slay this monster with that same Gorgon’s head. Yet hide your eyes when I leave you, lest the sight of it freeze you too to stone.”But the maiden answered nothing, for she could not believe his words. And then, suddenly looking up, she pointed to the sea, and shrieked,—“There he comes, with the sunrise, as they promised. I must die now. How shall I endure it? Oh, go! Is it not dreadful enough to be torn piecemeal, without having you to look on?” And she tried to thrust him away.But he said—”I go; yet promise me one thing ere I go; that if I slay this beast you will be my wife, and come back with me to my kingdom in fruitful Argos, for I am a king’s heir. Promise me, and seal it with a kiss.”Then she lifted up her face, and kissed him; and Perseus laughed for joy, and flew upward, while Andromeda crouched trembling on the rock, waiting for what might befall.On came the great sea-monster, coasting along like a huge black galley, lazily breasting the ripple, and stopping at times by creek or headland to watch for the laughter of girls at their bleaching, or cattle pawing on the sand-hills, or boys bathing on the beach. His great sides were fringed with clustering shells and sea-weeds, and the water gurgled in and out of his wide jaws, as he rolled along, dripping and glistening in the beams of the morning sun.At last he saw Andromeda, and shot forward to take his prey, while the waves foamed white behind him, and before him the fish fled leaping.Then down from the height of the air fell Perseus like a shooting star; down to the crests of the waves, while Andromeda hid her face as he shouted; and then there was silence for a while.At last she looked up trembling, and saw Perseus springing toward her; and instead of the monster a long black rock, with the sea rippling quietly round it.Who then so proud as Perseus, as he leapt back to the rock, and lifted his fair Andromeda in his arms, and flew with her to the cliff-top, as a falcon carries a dove?Who so proud as Perseus, and who so joyful as all the Æthiop people? For they had stood watching the monster from the cliffs, wailing for the maiden’s fate. And already a messenger had gone to Cepheus and Cassiopœia, where they sat in sackcloth and ashes on the ground, in the innermost palace chambers, awaiting their daughter’s end. And they came, and all the city with them, to see the wonder, with songs and with dances, with cymbals and harps, and received their daughter back again, as one alive from the dead.Then Cepheus said—”Hero of the Hellens, stay here with me and be my son-in-law, and I will give you the half of my kingdom.”“I will be your son-in-law,” said Perseus, “but of your kingdom I will have none; for I long after the pleasant land of Greece, and my mother who waits for me at home.”Then Cepheus said—”You must not take my daughter away at once, for she is to us like one alive from the dead. Stay with us here a year, and after that you shall return with honour.” And Perseus consented; but before he went to the palace he bade the people bring stones and wood, and built three altars, one to Athené, and one to Hermes, and one to Father Zeus, and offered bullocks and rams.And some said—”This is a pious man;” yet the priests said—”The Sea Queen will be yet more fierce against us, because her monster is slain.” But they were afraid to speak aloud, for they feared the Gorgon’s head. So they went up to the palace: and when they came in, there stood in the hall Phineus, the brother of Cepheus, chafing like a bear robbed of her whelps, and with him his sons, and his servants, and many an armed man; and he cried to Cepheus,—“You shall not marry your daughter to this stranger, of whom no one knows even the name. Was not Andromeda betrothed to my son? And now she is safe again, has he not a right to claim her?”But Perseus laughed, and answered—”If your son is in want of a bride, let him save a maiden for himself. As yet he seems but a helpless bridegroom. He left this one to die, and dead she is to him. I saved her alive, and alive she is to me, but to no one else. Ungrateful man! have I not saved your land, and the lives of your sons and daughters, and will you requite me thus? Go, or it will be worse for you.” But all the men-at-arms drew their swords, and rushed on him like wild beasts.Then he unveiled the Gorgon’s head, and said—”This has delivered my bride from one wild beast; it shall deliver her from many.” And as he spoke, Phineus and all his men-at-arms stopped short, and stiffened each man as he stood; and before Perseus had drawn the goat-skin over the face again, they were all turned into stone.Then Perseus bade the people bring levers and roll them out; and what was done with them after that, I cannot tell.So they made a great wedding-feast, which lasted seven whole days, and who so happy as Perseus and Andromeda?But on the eighth night Perseus dreamed a dream; and he saw standing beside him Pallas Athené, as he had seen her in Seriphos, seven long years before; and she stood and called him by name, and said,—“Perseus, you have played the man, and see, you have your reward. Know now that the Gods are just, and help him who helps himself. Now give me here Herpé the sword, and the sandals, and the hat of darkness, that I may give them back to their owners; but the Gorgon’s head you shall keep awhile, for you will need it in your land of Greece. Then you shall lay it up in my temple at Seriphos, that I may wear it on my shield forever, a terror to the Titans and the monsters, and the foes of Gods and men. And as for this land, I have appeased the sea and the fire, and there shall be no more floods nor earthquakes. But let the people build altars to Father Zeus, and to me, and worship the Immortals, the Lords of heaven and earth.”And Perseus rose to give her the sword, and the cap, and the sandals; but he woke, and his dream vanished away. And yet it was not altogether a dream; for the goat-skin with the head was in its place; but the sword, and the cap, and the sandals were gone, and Perseus never saw them more.Then a great awe fell on Perseus; and he went out in the morning to the people, and told his dream, and bade them build altars to Zeus, the Father of Gods and men, and to Athené, who gives wisdom to heroes; and fear no more the earthquakes and the floods, but sow and build in peace. And they did so for a while, and prospered; but after Perseus was gone they forgot Zeus and Athené, and worshipped again Atergatis the queen, and the undying fish of the sacred lake, where Deucalion’s deluge was swallowed up, and they burnt their children before the Fire King, till Zeus was angry with that foolish people, and brought a strange nation against them out of Egypt, who fought against them and wasted them utterly, and dwelt in their cities for many a hundred years.
It was somewhere about 1200, Prince Llewellyn had a castle at Aber, just abreast of us here; indeed, parts of the towers remain to this day. His consort was the Princess Joan; she was King John’s daughter. Her coffin remains with us to this day. Llewellyn was a great hunter of wolves and foxes, for the hills of Carnarvonshire were infested with wolves in those days, after the young lambs.Now the prince had several hunting-houses—sorts of farm houses, one of them was at the place now called Beth-Gelert, for the wolves were very thick there at this time. Now the prince used to travel from farm-house to farm-house with his family and friends, when going on these hunting parties.One season they went hunting from Aber, and stopped at the house where Beth-Gelert is now—it’s about fourteen miles away. The prince had all his hounds with him, but his favourite was Gelert, a hound who had never let off a wolf for six years.The prince loved the dog like a child, and at the sound of his horn Gelert was always the first to come bounding up. There was company at the house, and one day they went hunting, leaving his wife and the child, in a big wooden cradle, behind him at the farm-house.The hunting party killed three or four wolves, and about two hours before the word passed for returning home, Llewellyn missed Gelert, and he asked his huntsmen:“Where’s Gelert? I don’t see him.”“Well, indeed, master, I’ve missed him this half-hour.”And Llewellyn blew his horn, but no Gelert came at the sound.Indeed, Gelert had got on to a wolves’ track which led to the house.The prince sounded the return, and they went home, the prince lamenting Gelert. “He’s sure to have been slain—he’s sure to have been slain! since he did not answer the horn. Oh, my Gelert!” And they approached the house, and the prince went into the house, and saw Gelert lying by the overturned cradle, and blood all about the room.“What! hast thou slain my child?” said the prince, and ran his sword through the dog.After that he lifted up the cradle to look for his child, and found the body of a big wolf underneath that Gelert had slain, and his child was safe. Gelert had capsized the cradle in the scuffle.“Oh, Gelert! Oh, Gelert!” said the prince, “my favourite hound, my favourite hound! Thou hast been slain by thy master’s hand, and in death thou hast licked thy master’s hand!” He patted the dog, but it was too late, and poor Gelert died licking his master’s hand.Next day they made a coffin, and had a regular funeral, the same as if it were a human being; all the servants in deep mourning, and everybody. They made him a grave, and the village was called after the dog, Beth-Gelert—Gelert’s Grave; and the prince planted a tree, and put a gravestone of slate, though it was before the days of quarries. And they are to be seen to this day.
It was bitter cold, the sky glittered with stars, and not a breeze was in the air. “Bump”- an old pot was thrown at a neighbor’s door; and “bang, bang,” went the guns; for they were celebrating the New Year. It was New Year’s Eve, and the church clock was striking twelve. “Tan-ta-ra-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,” sounded the horn, and the mail-coach came lumbering up. The clumsy vehicle stopped at the gate of the town; all the places had been taken, for there were twelve passengers in the coach.“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the people in the town; for in every house the New Year was being welcomed; and as the clock struck, they stood up, the full glasses in their hands, to drink success to the new comer. “A happy New Year,” was the cry; “a pretty wife, plenty of money, and no sorrow or care.”The wish passed round, and the glasses clashed together till they rang again; while before the town-gate the mail coach stopped with the twelve strange passengers. And who were these strangers? Each of them had his passport and his luggage with him; they even brought presents for me, and for you, and for all the people in the town. “Who were they? what did they want? and what did they bring with them?”“Good-morning,” they cried to the sentry at the town-gate.“Good-morning,” replied the sentry; for the clock had struck twelve. “Your name and profession?” asked the sentry of the one who alighted first from the carriage.“See for yourself in the passport,” he replied. “I am myself;” and a famous fellow he looked, arrayed in bear-skin and fur boots. “I am the man on whom many persons fix their hopes. Come to me to-morrow, and I’ll give you a New Year’s present. I throw shillings and pence among the people; I give balls, no less than thirty-one; indeed, that is the highest number I can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices it is warm and comfortable. My name is JANUARY. I’m a merchant, and I generally bring my accounts with me.”Then the second alighted. He seemed a merry fellow. He was a director of a theatre, a manager of masked balls, and a leader of all the amusements we can imagine. His luggage consisted of a great cask.“We’ll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival time,” said he; “I’ll prepare a merry tune for you and for myself too. Unfortunately I have not long to live- the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family- only twenty-eight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble myself very little about that. Hurrah!”“You must not shout so,” said the sentry.“Certainly I may shout,” retorted the man; “I’m Prince Carnival, travelling under the name of FEBRUARY.”The third now got out. He looked a personification of fasting; but he carried his nose very high, for he was related to the “forty (k)nights,” and was a weather prophet. But that is not a very lucrative office, and therefore he praised fasting. In his button-hole he carried a little bunch of violets, but they were very small.“MARCH, March,” the fourth called after him, slapping him on the shoulder, “don’t you smell something? Make haste into the guard room; they’re drinking punch there; that’s your favorite drink. I can smell it out here already. Forward, Master March.” But it was not true; the speaker only wanted to remind him of his name, and to make an APRIL fool of him; for with that fun the fourth generally began his career. He looked very jovial, did little work, and had the more holidays. “If the world were only a little more settled,” said he: “but sometimes I’m obliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, now sunshine. I’m kind of a house agent, also a manager of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now. Here I am. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings, and a muff.”After him, a lady stepped out of the coach. She called herself Miss MAY. She wore a summer dress and overshoes; her dress was a light green, and she wore anemones in her hair. She was so scented with wild-thyme, that it made the sentry sneeze.“Your health, and God bless you,” was her salutation to him.How pretty she was! and such a singer! not a theatre singer, nor a ballad singer; no, but a singer of the woods; for she wandered through the gay green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.“Now comes the young lady,” said those in the carriage; and out stepped a young dame, delicate, proud, and pretty. It was Mistress JUNE, in whose service people become lazy and fond of sleeping for hours. She gives a feast on the longest day of the year, that there may be time for her guests to partake of the numerous dishes at her table. Indeed, she keeps her own carriage; but still she travelled by the mail, with the rest, because she wished to show that she was not high-minded. But she was not without a protector; her younger brother, JULY, was with her. He was a plump young fellow, clad in summer garments and wearing a straw hat. He had but very little luggage with him, because it was so cumbersome in the great heat; he had, however, swimming-trousers with him, which are nothing to carry. Then came the mother herself, in crinoline, Madame AUGUST, a wholesale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish ponds and a land cultivator. She was fat and heated, yet she could use her hands well, and would herself carry out beer to the laborers in the field. “In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread,” said she; “it is written in the Bible.” After work, came the recreations, dancing and playing in the greenwood, and the “harvest homes.” She was a thorough housewife.After her a man came out of the coach, who is a painter; he is the great master of colors, and is named SEPTEMBER. The forest, on his arrival, had to change its colors when he wished it; and how beautiful are the colors he chooses! The woods glow with hues of red and gold and brown. This great master painter could whistle like a blackbird. He was quick in his work, and soon entwined the tendrils of the hop plant around his beer jug. This was an ornament to the jug, and he has a great love for ornament. There he stood with his color pot in his hand, and that was the whole of his luggage. A land-owner followed, who in the month for sowing seed attended to the ploughing and was fond of field sports. Squire OCTOBER brought his dog and his gun with him, and had nuts in his game bag. “Crack, crack.” He had a great deal of luggage, even an English plough. He spoke of farming, but what he said could scarcely be heard for the coughing and gasping of his neighbor. It was NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He had a cold, which caused him to use his pocket-handkerchief continually; and yet he said he was obliged to accompany servant girls to their new places, and initiate them into their winter service. He said he thought his cold would never leave him when he went out woodcutting, for he was a master sawyer, and had to supply wood to the whole parish. He spent his evenings preparing wooden soles for skates, for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks these shoes would be wanted for the amusement of skating. At length the last passenger made her appearance,- old Mother DECEMBER, with her fire-stool. The dame was very old, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She carried on her arm a flower-pot, in which a little fir-tree was growing. “This tree I shall guard and cherish,” she said, “that it may grow large by Christmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be covered and adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures. The fire-stool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring a story book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children in the room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree will become lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out his wings of gold-leaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss every one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor children who stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol about the ’Star of Bethlehem.’”“Well, now the coach may drive away,” said the sentry; “we have the whole twelve. Let the horses be put up.”“First, let all the twelve come to me,” said the captain on duty, “one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of them is available for one month; when that has passed, I shall write the behavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness to come here.” And Mr. January stepped forward.When a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you what the twelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us. Now I do not know, and probably even they don’t know themselves, for we live in strange times.
There was once upon a time a couple of needy folk who lived in a wretched hut, in which there was nothing but black want; so they had neither food to eat nor wood to burn. But if they had next to nothing of all else they had the blessing of God so far as children were concerned, and every year brought them one more. The man was not overpleased at this. He was always going about grumbling and growling, and saying that it seemed to him that there might be such a thing as having too many of these good gifts; so shortly before another baby was born he went away into the wood for some firewood, saying that he did not want to see the new child; he would hear him quite soon enough when he began to squall for some food.As soon as this baby was born it began to look about the room. `Ah, my dear mother!’ said he, `give me some of my brothers’ old clothes, and food enough for a few days, and I will go out into the world and seek my fortune, for, so far as I can see, you have children enough.’`Heaven help thee, my son!’ said the mother, `that will never do; thou art still far too little.’But the little creature was determined to do it, and begged and prayed so long that the mother was forced to let him have some old rags, and tie up a little food for him, and then gaily and happily he went out into the world.But almost before he was out of the house another boy was born, and he too looked about him, and said, `Ah, my dear mother! give me some of my brothers’ old clothes, and food for some days, and then I will go out into the world and find my twin brother, for you have children enough.’`Heaven help thee, little creature! thou art far too little for that,’ said the woman; `it would never do.’But she spoke to no purpose, for the boy begged and prayed until he had got some old rags and a bundle of provisions, and then he set out manfully into the world to find his twin brother.When the younger had walked for some time he caught sight of his brother a short distance in front of him, and called to him and bade him to stop.`Wait a minute,’ he said; `you are walking as if for a wager, but you ought to have stayed to see your younger brother before you hurried off into the world.’So the elder stood still and looked back, and when the younger had got up to him, and had told him that he was his brother, he said: `But now, let us sit down and see what kind of food our mother has given us,’ and that they did.When they had walked on a little farther they came to a brook which ran through a green meadow, and there the younger said that they ought to christen each other. `As we had to make such haste, and had no time to do it at home, we may as well do it here,’ said he.`What will you be called?’ asked the elder.`I will be called Minnikin,’ answered the second; `and you, what will you be called?’`I will be called King Pippin,’ answered the elder.They christened each other and then went onwards. When they had walked for some time they came to a crossway, and there they agreed to part, and each take his own road. This they did, but no sooner had they walked a short distance than they met again. So they parted once more, and each took his own road, but in a very short time the same thing happened again–they met each other before they were at all aware, and so it happened the third time also. Then they arranged with each other that each should choose his own quarter, and one should go east and the other west.`But if ever you fall into any need or trouble,’ said the elder, `call me thrice, and I will come and help you; only you must not call me until you are in the utmost need.’`In that case we shall not see each other for some time,’ said Minnikin; so they bade farewell to each other, and Minnikin went east and King Pippin went west.When Minnikin had walked a long way alone, he met an old, old crook-backed hag, who had only one eye. Minnikin stole it.`Oh! oh!’ cried the old hag, `what has become of my eye?’`What will you give me to get your eye back?’ said Minnikin.`I will give thee a sword which is such a sword that it can conquer a whole army, let it be ever so great,’ replied the woman.`Let me have it, then,’ said Minnikin.The old hag gave him the sword, so she got her eye back. Then Minnikin went onwards, and when he had wandered on for some time he again met an old, old crook-backed hag, who had only one eye. Minnikin stole it before she was aware.`Oh! oh! what has become of my eye?’ cried the old hag.`What will you give me to get your eye back?’ said Minnikin.`I will give thee a ship which can sail over fresh water and salt water, over high hills and deep dales,’ answered the old woman.`Let me have it then,’ said Minnikin.So the old woman gave him a little bit of a ship which was no bigger than he could put in his pocket, and then she got her eye back, and she went her way and Minnikin his. When he had walked on for a long time, he met for the third time an old, old crook-backed hag, who had only one eye. This eye also Minnikin stole, and when the woman screamed and lamented, and asked what had become of her eye, Minnikin said, `What will you give me to get your eye back?’`I will give thee the art to brew a hundred lasts of malt in one brewing.’So, for teaching that art, the old hag got her eye back, and they both went away by different roads.But when Minnikin had walked a short distance, it seemed to him that it might be worth while to see what his ship could do; so he took it out of his pocket, and first he put one foot into it, and then the other, and no sooner had he put one foot into the ship than it became much larger, and when he set the other foot into it, it grew as large as ships that sail on the sea.Then Minnikin said: `Now go over fresh water and salt water, over high hills and deep dales, and do not stop until thou comest to the King’s palace.’And in an instant the ship went away as swiftly as any bird in the air till it got just below the King’s palace, and there it stood still.From the windows of the King’s palace many persons had seen Minnikin come sailing thither, and had stood to watch him; and they were all so astounded that they ran down to see what manner of man this could be who came sailing in a ship through the air. But while they were running down from the King’s palace, Minnikin had got out of the ship and had put it in his pocket again; for the moment he got out of it, it once more became as small as it had been when he got it from the old woman, and those who came from the King’s palace could see nothing but a ragged little boy who was standing down by the sea-shore. The King asked where he had come from, but the boy said he did not know, nor yet could he tell them how he had got there, but he begged very earnestly and prettily for a place in the King’s palace. If there was nothing else for him to do, he said he would fetch wood and water for the kitchen-maid, and that he obtained leave to do.When Minnikin went up to the King’s palace he saw that everything there was hung with black both outside and inside, from the bottom to the top; so he asked the kitchen-maid what that meant.`Oh, I will tell you that,’ answered the kitchen-maid. `The King’s daughter was long ago promised away to three Trolls, and next Thursday evening one of them is to come to fetch her. Ritter Red has said that he will be able to set her free, but who knows whether he will be able to do it? so you may easily imagine what grief and distress we are in here.’So when Thursday evening came, Ritter Red accompanied the Princess to the sea-shore; for there she was to meet the Troll, and Ritter Red was to stay with her and protect her. He, however, was very unlikely to do the Troll much injury, for no sooner had the Princess seated herself by the sea-shore than Ritter Red climbed up into a great tree which was standing there, and hid himself as well as he could among the branches.The Princess wept, and begged him most earnestly not to go and leave her; but Ritter Red did not concern himself about that. `It is better that one should die than two,’ said he.In the meantime Minnikin begged the kitchen-maid very prettily to give him leave to go down to the strand for a short time.`Oh, what could you do down at the strand?’ said the kitchen- maid. `You have nothing to do there.’`Oh yes, my dear, just let me go,’ said Minnikin. `I should so like to go and amuse myself with the other children.’`Well, well, go then!’ said the kitchen-maid, `but don’t let me find you staying there over the time when the pan has to be set on the fire for supper, and the roast put on the spit; and mind you bring back a good big armful of wood for the kitchen.’Minnikin promised this, and ran down to the sea-shore.Just as he got to the place where the King’s daughter was sitting, the Troll came rushing up with a great whistling and whirring, and he was so big and stout that he was terrible to see, and he had five heads.`Fire!’ screeched the Troll.`Fire yourself!’ said Minnikin.`Can you fight?’ roared the Troll.`If not, I can learn,’ said Minnikin.So the Troll struck at him with a great thick iron bar which he had in his fist, till the sods flew five yards up into the air.`Fie!’ said Minnikin. `That was not much of a blow. Now you shall see one of mine.’So he grasped the sword which he had got from the old crook- backed woman, and slashed at the Troll so that all five heads went flying away over the sands.When the Princess saw that she was delivered she was so delighted that she did not know what she was doing, and skipped and danced.`Come and sleep a bit with your head in my lap,’ she said to Minnikin, and as he slept she put a golden dress on him.But when Ritter Red saw that there was no longer any danger afoot, he lost no time in creeping down from the tree. He then threatened the Princess, until at length she was forced to promise to say that it was he who had rescued her, for he told her that if she did not he would kill her. Then he took the Troll’s lungs and tongue and put them in his pocket-handkerchief, and led the Princess back to the King’s palace; and whatsoever had been lacking to him in the way of honour before was lacking no longer, for the King did not know how to exalt him enough, and always set him on his own right hand at table.As for Minnikin, first he went out on the Troll’s ship and took a great quantity of gold and silver hoops away with him, and then he trotted back to the King’s palace.When the kitchen-maid caught sight of all this gold and silver she was quite amazed, and said: `My dear friend Minnikin, where have you got all that from?’ for she was half afraid that he had not come by it honestly.`Oh,’ answered Minnikin, `I have been home a while, and these hoops had fallen off some of our buckets, so I brought them away with me for you.’So when the kitchen-maid heard that they were for her, she asked no more questions about the matter. She thanked Minnikin, and everything was right again at once.Next Thursday evening all went just the same, and everyone was full of grief and affliction, but Ritter Red said that he had been able to deliver the King’s daughter from one Troll, so that he could very easily deliver her from another, and he led her down to the sea-shore. But he did not do much harm to this Troll either, for when the time came when the Troll might be expected, he said as he had said before: `It is better that one should die than two,’ and then climbed up into the tree again.Minnikin once more begged the cook’s leave to go down to the sea-shore for a short time.`Oh, what can you do there?’ said the cook.`My dear, do let me go!’ said Minnikin; `I should so like to go down there and amuse myself a little with the other children.’So this time also she said that he should have leave to go, but he must first promise that he would be back by the time the joint was turned and that he would bring a great armful of wood with him.No sooner had Minnikin got down to the strand than the Troll came rushing along with a great whistling and whirring, and he was twice as big as the first Troll, and he had ten heads.`Fire!’ shrieked the Troll.`Fire yourself!’ said Minnikin.`Can you fight?’ roared the Troll.`If not, I can learn,’ said Minnikin.So the Troll struck at him with his iron club–which was still bigger than that which the first Troll had had–so that the earth flew ten yards up in the air.`Fie!’ said Minnikin. `That was not much of a blow. Now you shall see one of my blows.’Then he grasped his sword and struck at the Troll, so that all his ten heads danced away over the sands.And again the King’s daughter said to him, `Sleep a while on my lap,’ and while Minnikin lay there she drew some silver raiment over him.As soon as Ritter Red saw that there was no longer any danger afoot, he crept down from the tree and threatened the Princess, until at last she was again forced to promise to say that it was he who had rescued her; after which he took the tongue and the lungs of the Troll and put them in his pocket-handkerchief, and then he conducted the Princess back to the palace. There was joy and gladness in the palace, as may be imagined, and the King did not know how to show enough honour and respect to Ritter Red.Minnikin, however, took home with him an armful of gold and silver hoops from the Troll’s ship. When he came back to the King’s palace the kitchen-maid clapped her hands and wondered where he could have got all that gold and silver; but Minnikin answered that he had been home for a short time, and that it was only the hoops which had fallen off some pails, and that he had brought them away for the kitchen-maid.When the third Thursday evening came, everything happened exactly as it had happened on the two former occasions. Everything in the King’s palace was hung with black, and everyone was sorrowful and distressed; but Ritter Red said that he did not think that they had much reason to be afraid–he had delivered the King’s daughter from two Trolls, so he could easily deliver her from the third as well.He led her down to the strand, but when the time drew near for the Troll to come, he climbed up into the tree again and hid himself.The Princess wept and entreated him to stay, but all to no purpose. He stuck to his old speech, `It is better that one life should be lost than two.’This evening also, Minnikin begged for leave to go down to the sea-shore.`Oh, what can you do there?’ answered the kitchen-maid.However, he begged until at last he got leave to go, but he was forced to promise that he would be back again in the kitchen when the roast had to be turned.Almost immediately after he had got down to the sea-shore the Troll came with a great whizzing and whirring, and he was much, much bigger than either of the two former ones, and he had fifteen heads.`Fire!’ roared the Troll.`Fire yourself!’ said Minnikin.`Can you fight?’ screamed the Troll.`If not, I can learn,’ said Minnikin.`I will teach you,’ yelled the Troll, and struck at him with his iron club so that the earth flew up fifteen yards high into the air.`Fie!’ said Minnikin. `That was not much of a blow. Now I will let you see one of my blows.’So saying he grasped his sword, and cut at the Troll in such a way that all his fifteen heads danced away over the sands.Then the Princess was delivered, and she thanked Minnikin and blessed him for saving her.`Sleep a while now on my lap,’ said she, and while he lay there she put a garment of brass upon him.`But now, how shall we have it made known that it was you who saved me?’ said the King’s daughter.`That I will tell you,’ answered Minnikin. `When Ritter Red has taken you home again, and given out that it was he who rescued you, he will, as you know, have you to wife, and half the kingdom. But when they ask you on your wedding-day whom you will have to be your cup-bearer, you must say, “I will have the ragged boy who is in the kitchen, and carries wood and water for the kitchen-maid;” and when I am filling your cups for you, I will spill a drop upon his plate but none upon yours, and then he will be angry and strike me, and this will take place thrice. But the third time you must say, “Shame on you thus to smite the beloved of mine heart. It is he who delivered me from the Troll, and he is the one whom I will have.” ‘Then Minnikin ran back to the King’s palace as he had done before, but first he went on board the Troll’s ship and took a great quantity of gold and silver and other precious things, and out of these he once more gave to the kitchen-maid a whole armful of gold and silver hoops.No sooner did Ritter Red see that all danger was over than he crept down from the tree, and threatened the King’s daughter till he made her promise to say that he had rescued her. Then he conducted her back to the King’s palace, and if honour enough had not been done him before it was certainly done now, for the King had no other thought than how to make much of the man who had saved his daughter from the three Trolls; and it was settled then that Ritter Red should marry her, and receive half the kingdom.On the wedding-day, however, the Princess begged that she might have the little boy who was in the kitchen, and carried wood and water for the kitchen-maid, to fill the wine-cups at the wedding feast.`Oh, what can you want with that dirty, ragged boy, in here?’ said Ritter Red, but the Princess said that she insisted on having him as cup-bearer and would have no one else; and at last she got leave, and then everything was done as had been agreed on between the Princess and Minnikin. He spilt a drop on Ritter Red’s plate but none upon hers, and each time that he did it Ritter Red fell into a rage and struck him. At the first blow all the ragged garments which he had worn in the kitchen fell from off Minnikin, at the second blow the brass garments fell off, and at the third the silver raiment, and there he stood in the golden raiment, which was so bright and splendid that light flashed from it.Then the King’s daughter said: `Shame on you thus to smite the beloved of my heart. It is he who delivered me from the Troll, and he is the one whom I will have.’Ritter Red swore that he was the man who had saved her, but the King said: `He who delivered my daughter must have some token in proof of it.’So Ritter Red ran off at once for his handkerchief with the lungs and tongue, and Minnikin went and brought all the gold and silver and precious things which he had taken out of the Trolls’ ships; and they each of them laid these tokens before the King.`He who has such precious things in gold and silver and diamonds,’ said the King, `must be the one who killed the Troll, for such things are not to be had anywhere else.’ So Ritter Red was thrown into the snake-pit, and Minnikin was to have the Princess, and half the kingdom.One day the King went out walking with Minnikin, and Minnikin asked him if he had never had any other children.`Yes,’ said the King, `I had another daughter, but the Troll carried her away because there was no one who could deliver her. You are going to have one daughter of mine, but if you can set free the other, who has been taken by the Troll, you shall willingly have her too, and the other half of the kingdom as well.’`I may as well make the attempt,’ said Minnikin, `but I must have an iron rope which is five hundred ells long, and then I must have five hundred men with me, and provisions for five weeks, for I have a long voyage before me.’So the King said he should have these things, but the King was afraid that he had no ship large enough to carry them all.`But I have a ship of my own,’ said Minnikin, and he took the one which the old woman had given him out of his pocket. The King laughed at him and thought that it was only one of his jokes, but Minnikin begged him just to give him what he had asked for, and then he should see something. Then all that Minnikin had asked for was brought; and first he ordered them to lay the cable in the ship, but there was no one who was able to lift it, and there was only room for one or two men at a time in the little bit of a ship. Then Minnikin himself took hold of the cable, and laid one or two links of it into the ship, and as he threw the links into it the ship grew bigger and bigger, and at last it was so large that the cable, and the five hundred men, and provisions, and Minnikin himself, had room enough.`Now go over fresh water and salt water, over hill and dale, and do not stop until thou comest to where the King’s daughter is,’ said Minnikin to the ship, and off it went in a moment over land and water till the wind whistled and moaned all round about it.When they had sailed thus a long, long way, the ship stopped short in the middle of the sea.`Ah, now we have got there,’ said Minnikin, `but how we are to get back again is a very different thing.’Then he took the cable and tied one end of it round his body. `Now I must go to the bottom,’ he said, `but when I give a good jerk to the cable and want to come up again, you must all pull like one man, or there will be an end of all life both for you and for me.’ So saying he sprang into the water, and yellow bubbles rose up all around him. He sank lower and lower, and at last he came to the bottom. There he saw a large hill with a door in it, and in he went. When he had got inside he found the other Princess sitting sewing, but when she saw Minnikin she clapped her hands.`Ah, heaven be praised!’ she cried, `I have not seen a Christian man since I came here.’`I have come for you,’ said Minnikin.`Alas! you will not be able to get me,’ said the King’s daughter. `It is no use even to think of that; if the Troll catches sight of you he will take your life.’`You had better tell me about him,’ said Minnikin. `Where is he gone? It would be amusing to see him.’So the King’s daughter told Minnikin that the Troll was out trying to get hold of someone who could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one brewing, for there was to be a feast at the Troll’s, at which less than that would not be drunk.`I can do that,’ said Minnikin.`Ah! if only the Troll were not so quick-tempered I might have told him that,’ answered the Princess, `but he is so ill-natured that he will tear you to pieces, I fear, as soon as he comes in. But I will try to find some way of doing it. Can you hide yourself here in the cupboard? and then we will see what happens.’Minnikin did this, and almost before he had crept into the cupboard and hidden himself, came the Troll.`Huf! What a smell of Christian man’s blood!’ said the Troll.`Yes, a bird flew over the roof with a Christian man’s bone in his bill, and let it fall down our chimney,’ answered the Princess. `I made haste enough to get it away again, but it must be that which smells so, notwithstanding.’`Yes, it must be that,’ said the Troll.Then the Princess asked if he had got hold of anyone who could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one brewing.`No, there is no one who can do it,’ said the Troll.`A short time since there was a man here who said he could do it,’ said the King’s daughter.`How clever you always are!’ said the Troll. `How could you let him go away? You must have known that I was just wanting a man of that kind.’`Well, but I didn’t let him go, after all,’ said the Princess; `but father is so quick-tempered, so I hid him in the cupboard, but if father has not found any one then the man is still here.’`Let him come in,’ said the Troll.When Minnikin came, the Troll asked if it were true that he could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one brewing.`Yes,’ said Minnikin, `it is.’`It is well then that I have lighted on thee,’ said the Troll. `Fall to work this very minute, but Heaven help thee if thou dost not brew the ale strong.’`Oh, it shall taste well,’ said Minnikin, and at once set himself to work to brew.`But I must have more trolls to help to carry what is wanted,’ said Minnikin; `these that I have are good for nothing.’So he got more and so many that there was a swarm of them, and then the brewing went on. When the sweet-wort was ready they were all, as a matter of course, anxious to taste it, first the Troll himself and then the others; but Minnikin had brewed the wort so strong that they all fell down dead like so many flies as soon as they had drunk any of it. At last there was no one left but one wretched old hag who was lying behind the stove.`Oh, poor old creature!’ said Minnikin, `you shall have a taste of the wort too like the rest.’ So he went away and scooped up a little from the bottom of the brewing vat in a milk pan, and gave it to her, and then he was quit of the whole of them.While Minnikin was now standing there looking about him, he cast his eye on a large chest. This he took and filled it with gold and silver, and then he tied the cable round himself and the Princess and the chest, and tugged at the rope with all his might, whereupon his men drew them up safe and sound.As soon as Minnikin had got safely on his ship again, he said: `Now go over salt water and fresh water, over hill and dale, and do not stop until thou comest unto the King’s palace.’ And in a moment the ship went off so fast that the yellow foam rose up all round about it.When those who were in the King’s palace saw the ship, they lost no time in going to meet him with song and music, and thus they marched up towards Minnikin with great rejoicings; but the gladdest of all was the King, for now he had got his other daughter back again.But now Minnikin was not happy, for both the Princesses wanted to have him, and he wanted to have none other than the one whom he had first saved, and she was the younger. For this cause he was continually walking backwards and forwards, thinking how he could contrive to get her, and yet do nothing that was unkind to her sister. One day when he was walking about and thinking of this, it came into his mind that if he only had his brother, King Pippin, with him, who was so like himself that no one could distinguish the one from the other, he could let him have the elder Princess and half the kingdom; as for himself, he thought, the other half was quite enough. As soon as this thought occurred to him he went outside the palace and called for King Pippin, but no one came. So he called a second time, and a little louder, but no! still no one came. So Minnikin called for the third time, and with all his might, and there stood his brother by his side.`I told you that you were not to call me unless you were in the utmost need,’ he said to Minnikin, `and there is not even so much as a midge here who can do you any harm!’ and with that he gave Minnikin such a blow that he rolled over on the grass.`Shame on you to strike me!’ said Minnikin. `First have I won one Princess and half the kingdom, and then the other Princess and the other half of the kingdom; and now, when I was just thinking that I would give you one of the Princesses and one of the halves of the kingdom, do you think you have any reason to give me such a blow?’When King Pippin heard that he begged his brother’s pardon, and they were reconciled at once and became good friends.`Now, as you know,’ said Minnikin, `we are so like each other that no one can tell one of us from the other; so just change clothes with me and go up to the palace, and then the Princesses will think that I am coming in, and the one who kisses you first shall be yours, and I will have the other.’ For he knew that the elder Princess was the stronger, so he could very well guess how things would go.King Pippin at once agreed to this. He changed clothes with his brother, and went into the palace. When he entered the Princess’s apartments they believed that he was Minnikin, and both of them ran up to him at once; but the elder, who was bigger and stronger, pushed her sister aside, and threw her arms round King Pippin’s neck and kissed him; so he got her to wife, and Minnikin the younger sister. It will be easy to understand that two weddings took place, and they were so magnificent that they were heard of and talked about all over seven kingdoms.
Once upon a time there lived a king who had but one son, and he was called the Kindhearted. When the prince was twenty years old, he asked the king, his father, to let him go traveling. His father fitted him out for the journey, gave him a true servant to guard him, and his fatherly blessing. The prince took leave of his father, mounted a brave steed and went to different countries, to see God’s world, to learn many things, and to return home a wiser and a better man.Once when the prince was slowly riding through a silent field, he suddenly perceived an eagle in pursuit of a swan. The white swan was almost caught by the eagle’s sharp claws, when the prince, carefully aiming, fired his pistol. The eagle fell dead, and the happy swan came down and said: “Prince Kindhearted, I thank you for your help. It is not a swan that is thanking you, but the enchanted daughter of the Knight Invisible. You have not saved me from an eagle’s claws, but from the terrible magician King Koshchey. My father will pay you well for your services. Remember whenever you are in need, to say three times: ‘Knight Invisible, come to my help!'” The swan flew away as soon as it had finished speaking, and the prince looked after it, then continued his journey.He crossed many high mountains, traversed deep rivers, passed foreign countries, and at last he came to a great desert, where there was nothing to see but sky and sand. No man lived there, no animal’s voice was ever heard, no vegetable ever grew there; the sun was shining so brightly and burning so terribly that all the rivers were dried up, their beds were lost in the sand, and there was not a drop of water anywhere. The young prince anxious to go everywhere and see everything and not noticing how dry things were, kept going farther and farther, and deeper and deeper, into the desert. But after a while he became terribly thirsty. In order to find some water he sent his servant in one direction and he himself went in another. After a long time he succeeded in finding a well. He called to his servant, “I have found a means of getting some water,” and they both were happy. But their happiness did not last, for the well was very deep and they had nothing with which to reach the water.The prince said to the servant: “Dismount, I will let you down into the well by some long ropes and you shall draw up some water.”“No, my prince,” answered the servant, “I am much heavier than you are, and Your Majesty’s hands will not be able to hold me. You take hold of the ropes, and I will let you down into the well.”The prince, the ropes tied around him, went down into the well, drank the cold water, and taking some of it for the servant, pulled the ropes, as a sign for the servant to draw him up again.But instead of pulling him up, the servant said: “Listen, you, kingly son! From your cradle-days until now you have lived a happy life, surrounded by luxury and love, and I have always led the life of a miserable wretch. Now you must agree to become my servant, and I will be the prince instead of you. If you will not exchange, say your last prayer, for I am going to drown you.”“Do not drown me, my true servant, you will not gain anything by it. You will never find such a good master as I am, and you know what a murderer may expect in the next world.”“Let me suffer in the next world, but I will make you suffer in this one,” answered the servant and he began to loosen the ropes.“Stop!” cried the prince, “I will be thy servant and you shall be the prince. I will give you my word for it.”“I do not believe your word. Swear that you will write down what you promise me, now, for words are lost in the air, and writing always remains as a testimony against us.”The servant let down into the well a sheet of paper and a pencil, and told the prince to write the following: “The bearer of this is Prince Kindhearted, traveling with his servant, a subject of his father’s kingdom.”The servant glanced over the note, pulled the prince out of the well, gave him his shabby clothes, and put on the prince’s rich dress. Then having changed armor and horses, they went on.In a week or so they came to the capital of a certain kingdom. When they approached the palace, the false prince gave his horse to the false servant and told him to go to the stable, and he himself went straight into the throne chamber and said to the king: “I come to you to ask for the hand of your daughter, whose beauty and wisdom are known all over the world. If you consent, you will have our favor; if not, we will decide it by war.”“You do not speak to me in a nice way at all, not as a prince ought to speak, but it may be that in your country you are not used to better manners. Now listen to me, my future son-in-law. My kingdom is now in the hands of an enemy of mine. His troops have captured my best soldiers and now they are approaching my capital. If you will clear my kingdom from these troops, my daughter’s hand will be yours as a reward.”“All right,” answered the false prince, “I will drive your enemies away. Do not worry if they come to the capital. Tomorrow morning not one enemy will be left in your land.” In the evening he went out of the palace, called his servant and said to him: “Listen, my dear! Go out to the city walls, drive away the foreign troops, and for this service I will return to you your note, by which you denied your kingdom and swore to be my servant.”The honest Prince Kindhearted put on his knightly armor, mounted his steed, went out to the city walls and called in a loud voice: “Knight Invisible! Come to my help!”“Here I am,” said Knight Invisible, “what do you wish me to do for you? I am ready to do everything for you, because you saved my child from the terrible Koshchey.”Prince Kindhearted showed him the troops, and the Knight Invisible whistled loudly and called: “Oh you, my wise horse, come to me quickly!”“A wonderful horse appeared, having a golden mane.” Illustration by Ada Budell, published in Stories to Read or Tell from Fairy Tales and Folklore by Laura Claire Foucher (1917), Moffat, Yard, and Company.There was a rustling in the air, it thundered, the earth trembled, and a wonderful horse appeared, having a golden mane, from his nostrils a fire was burning, from his eyes bright sparks were flying, and from his ears thick clouds of smoke were coming.Knight Invisible jumped upon the horse and said to the prince: “Take this magic sword and attack the troops from the left, and I upon my golden-maned horse will attack them from the right.”They both attacked the army. From the left the soldiers were falling like wood, from the right like whole forests. In less than an hour the entire army vanished. Some of them remained upon the spot, dead; some of them fled. Prince Kindhearted and the Knight Invisible met upon the battle-field, shook hands in a friendly way, and in a minute the Knight Invisible and his horse turned into a bright red flame, then into thick smoke, which disappeared in the darkness. The prince returned quietly to the palace.The young princess felt very sad that evening. She could not sleep and so leaned out of her window, whence she overheard the conversation between the prince and the servant. Then she saw what was going on behind the city walls. She also saw the Knight Invisible disappear in the darkness, and Prince Kindhearted return to the palace. She saw the false prince coming out of the palace, taking the knightly armor from the servant, and Prince Kindhearted entering the stable to rest.The next morning, the old king, seeing his land freed from the enemies, felt very happy, and gave the prince many rich presents. But when he announced the engagement of his daughter to him, she stood up, took the hand of the real prince, who helped to serve at the table, led him before the old king and said: “My dearest father and king, and all you that are present here! This man is my bridegroom, sent to me by God, for he is your savior, and the real prince. And that one who calls himself a prince, is a traitor; a false and dishonest man.” Then the princess told everything she knew and said: “Let him show some proof that he really is a prince.”The false prince gave to the king the note, which was given to him in the well. The king opened it and read aloud: “The bearer of this note, the false and untrue servant of Prince Kindhearted, asks for pardon and expects a just punishment. The note was given to him in the well by Prince Kindhearted.”“Is it really so?” cried the wretch and he became pale as death.“Yes, read it yourself, if you do not believe it,” answered the king.“I cannot read,” said the poor fellow. He knelt before his master and begged for mercy, but he received what he deserved.Prince Kindhearted and the princess were happily married, and I was present at the wedding feast and also felt happy.
Swanda, the Piper, was a jolly companion. Like every true musician, he was born with an unquenchable thirst; besides, he was madly fond of play, and would have risked his soul at strajak, the favorite game at cards in Bohemia. When he had earned a little money he would throw aside his pipes, and drink and play with the first comer till he returned to his home as light in pocket as when he had left it. But he was always so merry, witty, and good-natured that not a drinker ever left the table while the piper was there, and his name still lives in Bohemia as the prince of good fellows.One day there was a festival at Mokran, and no merry-making was ever complete without the piper. Swanda, after blowing his pipe till midnight and earning twenty zwanzigers, determined to amuse himself on his own account. Neither prayers nor promises could persuade him to go on with his music; he was determined to drink his fill and to shuffle the cards at his ease; but, for the first time in his life, he found no one to play with him.Swanda was not the man to quit the inn so long as he had a kreutzer in his pocket, and on that day he had many of them. By dint of talking, laughing, and drinking he took one of those fixed ideas which are not uncommon among those who look too often in the bottom of their glass, and determined to play at any price; but all his neighbors refused his challenge. Furious at finding no partner, he rose with an unsteady step, paid for what he had drank, and left the inn.“I will go to Drazic,” said he; “the schoolmaster and the bailiff there are honest people who are not afraid of play, and I shall find partners. Hurrah!”The night was clear and the moon shone like a fish’s eye. On reaching a cross-road Swanda raised his eyes by chance, and stopped, mute and motionless. A flock of ravens were croaking over his head, and in front of him rose four posts, standing like pillars, and connected at the top by cross-beams, from each of which swung a half-devoured corpse. It was a robbers’ gallows, a spectacle by no means amusing to a less stoical spirit than that of Swanda.He had not recovered from the first shudder when suddenly there appeared before him a man dressed in black with pale and hollow cheeks, and eyes that glittered like carbuncles.“Where are you going so late, friend Piper?” asked he, in a soft voice.“To Drazic, Mr. Black Coat,” answered the intrepid Swanda.“Would you like to earn something by your music?”“I am tired of blowing,” returned Swanda. “I have some silver in my pocket, and wish to amuse myself.”“Who talks to you of silver? It is with gold that we pay.”Saying this, the stranger flashed before his eyes a handful of shining ducats. The piper was the son of a thrifty mother; he knew not how to resist such an invitation, and followed the black man and his gold.How the time passed he never could remember. It is true that his head was a little heavy. The only thing that he recollected was that the black man warned him to accept whatever was offered him, whether gold or wine, but never to return thanks except by saying “Good luck, brother!”Without knowing how he had entered, he found himself in a dark room where three men, dressed in black like his guide, were playing at strajak by no other light than their glittering eyes. On the table were piles of gold, and a jug from which each one drank in his turn.“Brothers,” said the black man, “I bring you friend Swanda, whom you have long known by reputation. I thought to please you on this feast-day by giving you a little music.”“A good idea!” said one of the players. Then, taking the jug, he handed it to Swanda, saying, “Here, piper, drink and play.”Swanda had some scruples; but, after all, it is impossible to have charcoal without putting your finger into the ashes. The wine, though rather warm, was not bad. He replaced the jug on the table, and raising his hat, said, “Good luck, brother!” as he had been advised.“He began to play, and never had his music produced such an effect.” Illustration by Edward G. McCandlish, published in Laboulaye’s Fairy Book by Edouard Laboulaye (1866), Harper and BrothersHe began to play, and never had his music produced such an effect. Each note made the players leap for joy. Their eyes shot forth flames; they moved about uneasily in their chairs; they staked the ducats by handfuls; they shouted and burst into loud fits of laughter without stirring a muscle of their pallid faces. The jug passed from hand to hand, always full, though replenished by no one.As soon as Swanda finished an air they handed him the jug, from which he never failed to drink deeply, and threw handfuls of gold into his hat. “Good luck, brother!” he repeated, astounded at his fortune—”good luck!”In the morning a peasant on his way to the fields heard the sound of a pipe as he approached the cross-road. “It is Swanda,” said he. But where was the piper? Seated on a corner of the gallows, he was blowing with all his might, while the corpses of the robbers danced in the wind to his music.“Halloo, comrade!” cried the peasant. “How long have you been playing the cuckoo up there?”Swanda started, dropped his pipe, opened his eyes, and glided, bewildered, down the gallows. His first thought, however, was for his ducats. He rummaged his pockets and turned his hat inside out, but all in vain; there was not even a kreutzer!“My friend,” said the peasant, making the sign of the cross, “God has punished you by giving you the devil for a partner; you love cards too well.”“You are right,” said Swanda, trembling; “I will never touch them again in my life.”He kept his word; and, to thank Heaven for having preserved him from such peril, he took the fatal pipe to which the devil had danced, and suspended it as a votive offering in the church of Strakonic, his birthplace, where it may be seen to this day. The pipe of Strakonic has become a proverb, and it is even said that its sound is heard every year at the day and hour when Swanda played for Satan and his friends.
A gaunt Wolf was almost dead with hunger when he happened to meet a House-dog who was passing by. “Ah, Cousin,” said the Dog. “I knew how it would be; your irregular life will soon be the ruin of you. Why do you not work steadily as I do, and get your food regularly given to you?” “I would have no objection,” said the Wolf, “if I could only get a place.” “I will easily arrange that for you,” said the Dog; “come with me to my master and you shall share my work.” So the Wolf and the Dog went towards the town together. On the way there the Wolf noticed that the hair on a certain part of the Dog’s neck was very much worn away, so he asked him how that had come about. “Oh, it is nothing,” said the Dog. “That is only the place where the collar is put on at night to keep me chained up; it chafes a bit, but one soon gets used to it.” “Is that all?” said the Wolf. “Then good-bye to you, Master Dog.” Better starve free than be a fat slave.
In the days of yore, the proprietors of Colzean, in Ayrshire (ancestors of the Marquis of Ailsa), were known in that country by the title of Lairds o’ Co’, a name bestowed on Colzean from some co’s (or coves) in the rock beneath the castle.One morning, a very little boy, carrying a small wooden can, addressed the Laird near the castle gate, begging for a little ale for his mother, who was sick. The Laird directed him to go to the butler and get his can filled; so away he went as ordered. The butler had a barrel of ale on tap, but about half full, out of which he proceeded to fill the boy’s can; but to his extreme surprise he emptied the cask, and still the little can was not nearly full. The butler was unwilling to broach another barrel, but the little fellow insisted on the fulfilment of the Laird’s order, and a reference was made to the Laird by the butler, who stated the miraculous capacity of the tiny can, and received instant orders to fill it if all the ale in the cellar would suffice. Obedient to this command, he broached another cask, but had scarcely drawn a drop when the can was full, and the dwarf departed with expressions of gratitude.Some years afterwards the Laird being at the wars in Flanders was taken prisoner, and for some reason or other (probably as a spy) condemned to die a felon’s death. The night prior to the day for his execution, being confined in a dungeon strongly barricaded, the doors suddenly flew open, and the dwarf reappeared, saying—“Laird o’ Co’,Rise an’ go.”a summons too welcome to require repetition.On emerging from prison, the boy caused him to mount on his shoulders, and in a short time set him down at his own gate, on the very spot where they had formerly met, saying—“Ae gude turn deserves anither—Tak’ ye that for being sae kin’ to my auld mither,”and vanished.
In the long ago there was an old woman who dwelt in a little hut, and whose whole wealth consisted of one cow. With her lived her grandson, and he was a quaint fellow, full of funny ideas. Now it came to pass that the old woman was in such great trouble because of her poverty that she told the boy to take the cow to market and sell it there. He set out with the cow, but, before he came to the market town, he met an old woman, who walked along beside him and asked him all sorts of questions. At last she said: “I like you, my boy, and I will offer you a piece of good advice: Let me have your cow! To be sure, I have no money, but I will give you something that is much better than money.”Then she showed the boy what she was carrying in her apron—three tiny little pigs. They were very pretty, for their skins were bright red, and they had little curly tails. When she put them down and, drawing forth a flute, began to play, the pigs began to dance and wag their little tails, so that it was a pleasure to look at them. “Now, my boy,” she said, “I will give you these, together with the flute, in exchange for your old cow. That is surely a good bargain, and ought to please you.” The lad thought so too, and accepted her offer. He took off his coat and wrapped the little pigs in it, because it would have been a shame to make them walk the whole way home; but the flute he put inside his cap. He ran home as fast as he could, and with great glee, showed his grandmother what he had brought back in exchange for the cow.But the poor old woman began to weep and lament, and even the dancing of the little pigs could not consoleher. She told the boy that he was mad and was ruining her, but he told her to cheer up, for it was a very good bargain that he had made.Quite close to the old woman’s cottage lived a rich nobleman with his wife, and they had an only child, a very pretty girl. She was of the same age as the boy, about fifteen years old, but she was an exceedingly proud young lady. As the boy knew that her parents were from home and that she was alone, he took his little pigs, went in front of her windows, played on hisflute and let the pigs dance. The young lady came to the castle wall and looked on, and as she liked the clever pigs, she came outside and offered to buy one of them. However, the lad would not give her one for money, but he said that if she would allow him to stroke her cheek, and if she would give him some food for his old grandmother, he would willingly let her have a little pig.“The young lady came to the castle wall and looked on.” Illustration by unknown artist, published in Danish Fairy Tales by Sven Grundtvig (1914), Thomas Y. Crowell Company.“The young lady came to the castle wall and looked on.” Illustration by unknown artist, published in Danish Fairy Tales by Sven Grundtvig (1914), Thomas Y. Crowell Company.The boy’s clothes were very ragged and his hands not particularly clean, so the young lady did not care tohave her cheek stroked by him, but she was so eager to have one of the pigs, that she allowed him to do as he requested, and she also gave him a large basket of food. He came home very proudly and told his grandmotherwhat he had received for one pig, but she did not seem at all pleased.That was all very well, she said, butwhat would they live on when the food was eaten? “Never mind that,” said the boy, ” I will take care of the future.” Next day he took the two remaining pigs, went again to the window of the mansion and played on his flute, and his pigs danced even more beautifully than the day before. The young lady came out to look at thedancing. She had not been able to make her pig dance at all, and she thought it would behave better if she could buy another as a companion for it. She asked the boy if he would sell her another, and he replied that he would willingly give her another, if she would allow him to kiss her.Now, although he was a pretty enough boy if only he had been cleaner, he had just been eating some bread and treacle, and his mouth was very sticky, but the young lady was so eager to have the second pig, that she consented. Then he gave her a sounding kiss right on her ruddy lips, and was sent home with another basket of food. Proudly he told his grandmotherwhat he had got for his second pig, and when shegrumbled again, because they would have nothing to cat when this supply was gone, he told her, as before, not to trouble, for he would take care of the future. On the morning of the third day, he went again beforethe young lady’s window with his remaining pig; he played on his flute and the pig danced and leapt around him more merrily than ever. The little lady came out again and looked on; she was very sad because she not been able to make her two pigs dance. Now she wanted the third one and also the flute, because she could see quite well that it was the magic of the flute that made the pigs dance. She therefore asked the boy if he would sell her the third pig and the flute with it. “Oh, yes,” said the boy, ” I will gladly give them to you, if you will lay your head in my lap.”The boy’s clothes were ragged and dirty, and the younglady did not want her beautiful black hair to be soiled, but if she was to have her wish gratified she must do what the boy asked, and she therefore laid her head in his lap. He stroked her black silken hair with his fingers, and in doing so he noticed three strange hairs among the others: one was golden, another was silver, and a third was pure white. Then he received his usual basket of food and walked home. He showed his grandmother what he had brought, but she answered him in the usual way, while he told her again that he would look after things in the future.The nobleman and his wife came home soon after this,and as they thought it was time that their daughter should marry, the father conceived the strange idea that whosoever could name three hidden marks on his daughter, should have her for wife. Soon many young men arrived from every corner of the country, and guessed all sorts of things, but not one of them thought of the right thing. The ragged boy had heard about this strange offer and he also went to the mansion. He ran about outside thewindows, singing: “I know what I would say! I know what I would say!”The young lady heard this and grew very angry; she threw him some money out of the window and said, “Go home, you naughty boy!” He put the money in his cap, but continued to sing his old song: “I know what I would say! Iknow what I would say!”The young lady grew very frightened lest she might be compelled to marry a poor ragged boy, so she threw more money out of the window to him and said:”Do go away, you tiresome boy ! I cannot endure your singing any longer.” But he just put the money in his cap and began his old song once more.He had tried repeatedly to slip into the mansion, but each time he had been driven back by the servants who would not admit such a ragged fellow. Presently he saw a young nobleman who was going to try his luck. The nobleman had noticed the boy and heard his little song, so he said to him: “What is it that you know?”“I know the secret hidden marks on the squire’s daughter,” said the boy. “Tell me what they are, and I will reward you well,” said the young nobleman. “Yes, I will tell you what they are,” said the boy,”but you must take me with you into the house, so that I can see the fun. You can easily hide me under your cloak, and  hen I can slip in with you.” That was easily done, and although the young noble looked rather stout, nobody noticed anything amiss. The two came into the room, where a number of suitors were trying to guess the riddle, but none of them had discovered the right thing. Then the boy cried from the cloak: “The lady has one golden hair, one silver hair, and one white hair on her head.”“That is correct!” cried the squire. The boy came forth from his hiding-place, declaring that they must give him the young lady as his wife, and at the same time he waved his cap so that all his money rolled on the floor. The squire was greatly taken aback; he could not break his word and yet he had not expected such a son-in-law. Then he said: “What is all that money on the floor?”“That is the money your daughter gave me to be silent,” said the boy. “What do you mean by that?”asked the squire. “Out with it! Tell me all that has happened.” The boy related his story from the very beginning, telling the squire about the cow and the three little pigs, he described how he had sold the first pig and what he had received for it, and then how he had sold the second one, and what he had got for that. When the squire heard that his daughter had given him a kiss in exchange for it hewould not hear any more, but turned to his daughter and said: “Well, if you have kissed him, you shall marry him!”And so it happened; the two were made man and wife and loved each other very dearly all theirlife long.
So Theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes. And first, he thought of going down to the harbour and hiring a swift ship, and sailing across the bay to Athens; but even that seemed too slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea, and find his father. But after a while his heart began to fail him; and he sighed, and said within himself—“What if my father have other sons about him, whom he loves? What if he will not receive me? And what have I done that he should receive me? He has forgotten me ever since I was born: why should he welcome me now?”Then he thought a long while sadly; and at the last he cried aloud, “Yes! I will make him love me; for I will prove myself worthy of his love. I will win honour and renown, and do such deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me, though he had fifty other sons! Did not Heracles win himself honour, though he was opprest, and the slave of Eurystheus? Did he not kill all robbers and evil beasts, and drain great lakes and marshes, breaking the hills through with his club? Therefore it was that all men honoured him, because he rid them of their miseries, and made life pleasant to them and their children after them. Where can I go, to do as Heracles has done? Where can I find strange adventures, robbers, and monsters, and the children of hell, the enemies of men? I will go by land, and into the mountains, and round by the way of the Isthmus. Perhaps there I may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my father’s love.”So he went by land, and away into the mountains, with his father’s sword upon his thigh, till he came to the Spider mountains, which hang over Epidaurus and the sea, where the glens run downward from one peak in the midst, as the rays spread in the spider’s web.And he went up into the gloomy glens, between the furrowed marble walls, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet, and the clouds drove damp about his head.But he went up and up forever, through the spider’s web of glens, till he could see the narrow gulfs spread below him, north and south, and east and west; black cracks half-choked with mists, and above all a dreary down.But over that down he must go, for there was no road right or left; so he toiled on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones.And on the stones a man was sitting, wrapt in a bear-skin cloak. The head of the bear served him for a cap, and its teeth grinned white around his brows; and the feet were tied about his throat, and their claws shone white upon his chest. And when he saw Theseus he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled.“And who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider’s web?” But Theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer; but he thought, “Is this some robber? and has an adventure come already to me?” But the strange man laughed louder than ever, and said,—“Bold fly, know you not that these glens are the web from which no fly ever finds his way out again, and this down the spider’s house, and I the spider who sucks the flies? Come hither, and let me feast upon you; for it is of no use to run away, so cunning a web has my father Hephaistos spread for me, when he made these clefts in the mountains, through which no man finds his way home.”But Theseus came on steadily, and asked,—“And what is your name among men, bold spider? and where are your spider’s fangs?”Then the strange man laughed again,—“My name is Periphetes, the son of Hephaistos and Anticleia the mountain nymph. But men call me Corynetes the club-bearer; and here is my spider’s fang.”And he lifted from off the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze.“This my father gave me, and forged it himself in the roots of the mountain; and with it I pound all proud flies till they give out their fatness and their sweetness. So give me up that gay sword of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest I pound you, and by ill luck you die.”But Theseus wrapt his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds, from his shoulder to his hand, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him.Thrice he struck at Theseus, and made him bend under the blows like a sapling; but Theseus guarded his head with his left arm, and the mantle which was wrapped around it.And thrice Theseus sprang upright after the blow, like a sapling when the storm is past; and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his sword, but the loose folds of the bear-skin saved him.Then Theseus grew mad, and closed with him, and caught him by the throat, and they fell and rolled over together; but when Theseus rose up from the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet.Then Theseus took his club and his bear-skin, and left him to the kites and crows, and went upon his journey down the glens on the farther slope, till he came to a broad green valley, and saw flocks and herds sleeping beneath the trees.And by the side of a pleasant fountain, under the shade of rocks and trees, were nymphs and shepherds dancing; but no one piped to them while they danced.And when they saw Theseus they shrieked; and the shepherds ran off, and drove away their flocks; while the nymphs dived into the fountain like coots, and vanished.Theseus wondered and laughed: “What strange fancies have folks here who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance!” But he was tired, and dusty, and thirsty; so he thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep, as it tinkled down from stone to stone.And when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat on green cushions of moss. And one said, “Surely he is not Periphetes;” and another, “He looks like no robber, but a fair and gentle youth.”Then Theseus smiled, and called them, “Fair nymphs, I am not Periphetes. He sleeps among the kites and crows: but I have brought away his bear-skin and his club.”Then they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds back. And he told them how he had slain the club-bearer: and the shepherds kissed his feet and sang, “Now we shall feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance; for the cruel club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more.”Then they brought him kid’s flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought him honey from the rocks; and he ate, and drank, and slept again, while the nymphs and shepherds danced and sang. And when he woke, they begged him to stay; but he would not. “I have a great work to do,” he said; “I must be away toward the Isthmus, that I may go to Athens.”But the shepherds said, “Will you go alone toward Athens? None travel that way now, except in armed troops.”“As for arms, I have enough, as you see. And as for troops, an honest man is good enough company for himself. Why should I not go alone toward Athens?”“If you do, you must look warily about you on the Isthmus, lest you meet Sinis the robber, whom men call Pituocamptes the pine-bender; for he bends down two pine-trees, and binds all travellers hand and foot between them; and when he lets the trees go again their bodies are torn in sunder.”“And after that,” said another, “you must go inland, and not dare to pass over the cliffs of Sciron; for on the left hand are the mountains, and on the right the sea, so that you have no escape, but must needs meet Sciron the robber, who will make you wash his feet; and while you are washing them he will kick you over the cliff, to the tortoise who lives below, and feeds upon the bodies of the dead.”And before Theseus could answer, another cried, “And after that is a worse danger still, unless you go inland always, and leave Eleusis far on your right. For in Eleusis rules Kerkuon the cruel king, the terror of all mortals, who killed his own daughter Alope in prison. But she was changed into a fair fountain; and her child he cast out upon the mountains; but the wild mares gave it milk. And now he challenges all comers to wrestle with him; for he is the best wrestler in all Attica, and overthrows all who come; and those whom he overthrows he murders miserably, and his palace-court is full of their bones.”Then Theseus frowned, and said, “This seems indeed an ill-ruled land, and adventures enough in it to be tried. But if I am the heir of it, I will rule it and right it, and here is my royal sceptre.” And he shook his club of bronze, while the nymphs and shepherds clung round him, and entreated him not to go.But on he went, nevertheless, till he could see both the seas and the citadel of Corinth towering high above all the land. And he past swiftly along the Isthmus, for his heart burned to meet that cruel Sinis; and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the Isthmus was narrowest and the road ran between high rocks. There he sat upon a stone by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and a cord laid ready by his side; and over his head, upon the fir-tops, hung the bones of murdered men.Then Theseus shouted to him, “Holla, thou valiant pine-bender, hast thou two fir-trees left for me?”And Sinis leapt to his feet, and answered, pointing to the bones above his head, “My larder has grown empty lately, so I have two fir-trees ready for thee.” And he rushed on Theseus, lifting his club, and Theseus rushed upon him.Then they hammered together till the greenwoods rang: but the metal was tougher than the pine, and Sinis’s club broke right across, as the bronze came down upon it. Then Theseus heaved up another mighty stroke, and smote Sinis down upon his face; and knelt upon his back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, “As thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee.” Then he bent down two young fir-trees, and bound Sinis between them, for all his struggling and his prayers; and let them go, and ended Sinis, and went on, leaving him to the hawks and crows.Then he went over the hills toward Megara, keeping close along the Saronic Sea, till he came to the cliffs of Sciron, and the narrow path between the mountain and the sea.And there he saw Sciron sitting by a fountain, at the edge of the cliff. On his knees was a mighty club; and he had barred the path with stones, so that every one must stop who came up.Then Theseus shouted to him, and said, “Holla, thou tortoise-feeder, do thy feet need washing to-day?”And Sciron leapt to his feet, and answered—”My tortoise is empty and hungry, and my feet need washing to-day.” And he stood before his barrier, and lifted up his club in both hands.Then Theseus rushed upon him; and sore was the battle upon the cliff; for when Sciron felt the weight of the bronze club, he dropt his own, and closed with Theseus, and tried to hurl him by main force over the cliff. But Theseus was a wary wrestler, and dropt his own club, and caught him by the throat and by the knee, and forced him back against the wall of stones, and crushed him up against them, till his breath was almost gone. And Sciron cried panting, “Loose me, and I will let thee pass.” But Theseus answered, “I must not pass till I have made the rough way smooth;” and he forced him back against the wall till it fell, and Sciron rolled head over heels.Then Theseus lifted him up all bruised, and said, “Come hither and wash my feet.” And he drew his sword, and sat down by the well, and said, “Wash my feet, or I cut you piecemeal.”And Sciron washed his feet trembling; and when it was done, Theseus rose, and cried, “As thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee. Go feed thy tortoise thyself;” and he kicked him over the cliff into the sea.And whether the tortoise ate him, I know not; for some say that earth and sea both disdained to take his body, so foul it was with sin. So the sea cast it out upon the shore, and the shore cast it back into the sea, and at last the waves hurled it high into the air in anger; and it hung there long without a grave, till it was changed into a desolate rock, which stands there in the surge until this day.This at least is true, which Pausanias tells, that in the royal porch at Athens he saw the figure of Theseus modelled in clay, and by him Sciron the robber, falling headlong into the sea.Then he went a long day’s journey, past Megara, into the Attic land, and high before him rose the snow-peaks of Cithæron, all cold above the black pine-woods, where haunt the Furies, and the raving Bacchæ, and the nymphs who drive men wild, far aloft upon the dreary mountains, where the storms howl all day long. And on his right hand was the sea always, and Salamis, with its island cliffs, and the sacred strait of the sea-fight, where afterwards the Persians fled before the Greeks. So he went all day until the evening, till he saw the Thriasian plain, and the sacred city of Eleusis, where the Earth-mother’s temple stands. For there she met Triptolemus, when all the land lay waste, Demeter the kind Earth-mother, and in her hands a sheaf of corn. And she taught him to plough the fallows, and to yoke the lazy kine; and she taught him to sow the seed-fields, and to reap the golden grain; and sent him forth to teach all nations, and give corn to labouring men. So at Eleusis all men honour her, whosoever tills the land; her and Triptolemus her beloved, who gave corn to labouring men.And he went along the plain into Eleusis, and stood in the market-place, and cried,—“Where is Kerkuon, the king of the city? I must wrestle a fall with him to-day.”Then all the people crowded round him, and cried, “Fair youth, why will you die? Hasten out of the city, before the cruel king hears that a stranger is here.”But Theseus went up through the town, while the people wept and prayed, and through the gates of the palace yard, and through the piles of bones and skulls, till he came to the door of Kerkuon’s hall, the terror of all mortal men.And there he saw Kerkuon sitting at the table in the hall alone; and before him was a whole sheep roasted, and beside him a whole jar of wine. And Theseus stood and called him, “Holla, thou valiant wrestler, wilt thou wrestle a fall to-day?”And Kerkuon looked up and laughed, and answered, “I will wrestle a fall to-day; but come in, for I am lonely and thou weary, and eat and drink before thou die.”Then Theseus went up boldly, and sat down before Kerkuon at the board; and he ate his fill of the sheep’s flesh, and drank his fill of the wine; and Theseus ate enough for three men, but Kerkuon ate enough for seven.But neither spoke a word to the other, though they looked across the table by stealth; and each said in his heart, “He has broad shoulders; but I trust mine are as broad as his.”At last, when the sheep was eaten and the jar of wine drained dry, King Kerkuon rose, and cried, “Let us wrestle a fall before we sleep.”So they tossed off all their garments, and went forth in the palace-yard; and Kerkuon bade strew fresh sand in an open space between the bones. And there the heroes stood face to face, while their eyes glared like wild bulls’; and all the people crowded at the gates to see what would befall.And there they stood and wrestled, till the stars shone out above their heads; up and down and round, till the sand was stamped hard beneath their feet. And their eyes flashed like stars in the darkness, and their breath went up like smoke in the night air; but neither took nor gave a footstep, and the people watched silent at the gates.But at last Kerkuon grew angry, and caught Theseus round the neck, and shook him as a mastiff shakes a rat; but he could not shake him off his feet.But Theseus was quick and wary, and clasped Kerkuon round the waist, and slipped his loin quickly underneath him, while he caught him by the wrist; and then he hove a mighty heave, a heave which would have stirred an oak, and lifted Kerkuon, and pitched him, right over his shoulder on the ground.Then he leapt on him, and called, “Yield, or I kill thee!” but Kerkuon said no word; for his heart was burst within him, with the fall, and the meat, and the wine.Then Theseus opened the gates, and called in all the people; and they cried, “You have slain our evil king; be you now our king, and rule us well.”“I will be your king in Eleusis, and I will rule you right and well: for this cause I have slain all evil-doers—Sinis, and Sciron, and this man last of all.”Then an aged man stepped forth, and said, “Young hero, hast thou slain Sinis? Beware then of Ægeus, king of Athens, to whom thou goest, for he is near of kin to Sinis.”“Then I have slain my own kinsman,” said Theseus, “though well he deserved to die. Who will purge me from his death, for rightfully I slew him, unrighteous and accursed as he was?”And the old man answered,—“That will the heroes do, the sons of Phytalus, who dwell beneath the elm-tree in Aphidnai, by the bank of silver Cephisus; for they know the mysteries of the Gods. Thither you shall go and be purified, and after you shall be our king.”So he took an oath of the people of Eleusis, that they would serve him as their king, and went away next morning across the Thriasian plain, and over the hills toward Aphidnai, that he might find the sons of Phytalus.And as he was skirting the Vale of Cephisus, along the foot of lofty Parnes, a very tall and strong man came down to meet him, dressed in rich garments. On his arms were golden bracelets, and round his neck a collar of jewels; and he came forward, bowing courteously, and held out both his hands, and spoke,—“Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have met you! For what greater pleasure to a good man, than to entertain strangers? But I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle, and rest yourself awhile.”“I give you thanks,” said Theseus: “but I am in haste to go up the valley, and to reach Aphidnai in the Vale of Cephisus.”“Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot reach Aphidnai to-night, for there are many miles of mountain between you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after nightfall. It is well for you that I met you; for my whole joy is to find strangers, and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from them of foreign lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison, and drink the rich red wine; and sleep upon my famous bed, of which all travellers say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever the stature of my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits him to a hair, and he sleeps on it as he never slept before.” And he laid hold on Theseus’s hands, and would not let him go.Theseus wished to go forwards: but he was ashamed to seem churlish to so hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that wondrous bed; and beside, he was hungry and weary; yet he shrank from the man, he knew not why; for, though his voice was gentle and fawning, it was dry and husky like a toad’s; and though his eyes were gentle, they were dull and cold like stones. But he consented, and went with the man up a glen which led from the road toward the peaks of Parnes, under the dark shadow of the cliffs.And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher and darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between bare limestone crags. And around there was neither tree nor bush, while from the white peaks of Parnes the snow-blasts swept down the glen, cutting and chilling, till a horror fell on Theseus, as he looked round at that doleful place. And he asked at last, “Your castle stands, it seems, in a dreary region.”“Yes, but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful. But who are these?” and he looked back, and Theseus also; and far below, along the road which they had left, came a string of laden asses, and merchants walking by them, watching their ware.“Ah, poor souls!” said the stranger. “Well for them that I looked back and saw them! And well for me too, for I shall have the more guests at my feast. Wait awhile till I go down and call them, and we will eat and drink together the livelong night. Happy am I, to whom Heaven sends so many guests at once!”And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting to the merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering driftwood in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his faggot in the road, and was trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he saw Theseus, he called to him, and said,—“O fair youth, help me up with my burden; for my limbs are stiff and weak with years.”Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man blest him, and then looked earnestly upon him, and said,—“Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful road?”“Who I am my parents know; but I travel this doleful road because I have been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to feast me, and to make me sleep upon I know not what wondrous bed.”Then the old man clapped his hands together and cried,—“O house of Hades, man-devouring; will thy maw never be full? Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death; for he who met you (I will requite your kindness by another) is a robber and a murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices him hither to death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it fits all comers, yet none ever rose alive off it save me.”“Why?” asked Theseus, astonished.“Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they be long enough: but me only he spared, seven weary years agone; for I alone of all fitted his bed exactly, so he spared me, and made me his slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in brazen-gated Thebes; but now I hew wood and draw water for him, the torment of all mortal men.”Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.“Escape, then,” said the old man, “for he will have no pity on thy youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a maiden, and fitted them upon his bed: and the young man’s hands and feet he cut off; but the maiden’s limbs he stretched until she died, and so both perished miserably—but I am tired of weeping over the slain. And therefore he is called Procrustes the stretcher, though his father called him Damastes. Flee from him: yet whither will you flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and there is no other road.”But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man’s mouth, and said, “There is no need to flee;” and he turned to go down the pass.“Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by some evil death;” and the old man screamed after him down the glen; but Theseus strode on in his wrath.And he said to himself, “This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I have done ridding it of monsters?” And as he spoke, Procrustes came up the hill, and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking gayly. And when he saw Theseus, he cried, “Ah, fair young guest, have I kept you too long waiting?”But Theseus answered, “The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is done throughout the land?”Then Procrustes’s countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leapt on him, and cried,—“Is this true, my host, or is it false?” and he clasped Procrustes’s round waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.“Is this true, my host, or is it false?” But Procrustes answered never a word.Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and before Procrustes could strike him he had struck, and felled him to the ground.And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, and went down to Hades squeaking, like a bat into the darkness of a cave.Then Theseus stript him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen from the passers by. And he called the people of the country, whom Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and parted the spoil among them, and went down the mountains, and away.And he went down the glens of Parnes, through mist, and cloud, and rain, down the slopes of oak, and lentisk, and arbutus, and fragrant bay, till he came to the Vale of Cephisus, and the pleasant town of Aphidnai, and the home of the Phytalid heroes, where they dwelt beneath a mighty elm.And there they built an altar, and bade him bathe in Cephisus, and offer a yearling ram, and purified him from the blood of Sinis, and sent him away in peace.And he went down the valley by Acharnai, and by the silver-swirling stream, while all the people blessed him, for the fame of his prowess had spread wide, till he saw the plain of Athens, and the hill where Athene dwells.So Theseus went up through Athens, and all the people ran out to see him; for his fame had gone before him and every one knew of his mighty deeds. And all cried, “Here comes the hero who slew Sinis, and Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, and conquered Cercyon in wrestling, and slew Procrustes the pitiless.” But Theseus went on sadly and steadfastly; for his heart yearned after his father; and he said, “How shall I deliver him from these leeches who suck his blood?”So he went up the holy stairs, and into the Acropolis, where Ægeus’s palace stood; and he went straight into Ægeus’s hall, and stood upon the threshold, and looked round.And there he saw his cousins sitting about the table, at the wine; many a son of Pallas, but no Ægeus among them. There they sat and feasted, and laughed, and passed the wine-cup round; while harpers harped, and slave-girls sang, and the tumblers showed their tricks.Loud laughed the sons of Pallas, and fast went the wine-cup round; but Theseus frowned, and said under his breath, “No wonder that the land is full of robbers, while such as these bear rule.”Then the Pallantids saw him, and called to him, half-drunk with wine, “Holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?”“I come hither to ask for hospitality.”“Then take it, and welcome. You look like a hero and a bold warrior; and we like such to drink with us.”“I ask no hospitality of you; I ask it of Ægeus the king, the master of this house.”At that some growled, and some laughed, and shouted, “Heyday, we are all masters here.”“Then I am master as much as the rest of you,” said Theseus, and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus; but he was nowhere to be seen.The Pallantids looked at him, and then at each other, and each whispered to the man next him, “This is a forward fellow; he ought to be thrust out at the door.” But each man’s neighbour whispered in return, “His shoulders are broad; will you rise and put him out?” So they all sat still where they were.Then Theseus called to the servants, and said, “Go tell King Ægeus, your master, that Theseus of Trœzene is here, and asks to be his guest awhile.”A servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber within, by Medeia the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. And when Ægeus heard of Trœzene he turned pale and red again; and rose from his seat trembling, while Medeia watched him like a snake.“What is Trœzene to you?” she asked. But he said hastily, “Do you not know who this Theseus is? The hero who has cleared the country from all monsters; but that he came from Trœzene, I never heard before. I must go out and welcome him.”So Ægeus came out into the hall; and when Theseus saw him, his heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome him; but he controlled himself, and said, “My father may not wish for me, after all. I will try him before I discover myself;” and he bowed low before Ægeus, and said, “I have delivered the king’s realm from many monsters; therefore I am come to ask a reward of the king.”And old Ægeus looked on him, and loved him, as what fond heart would not have done? But he only sighed, and said,—“It is little that I can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is worthy of you; for surely you are no mortal man, or at least no mortal’s son.”“All I ask,” said Theseus, “is to eat and drink at your table.”“That I can give you,” said Ægeus, “if at least I am master in my own hall.”Then he bade them put a seat for Theseus, and set before him the best of the feast; and Theseus sat and ate so much, that all the company wondered at him: but always he kept his club by his side.But Medeia the dark witch-woman had been watching him all the while. She saw how Ægeus turned red and pale, when the lad said that he came from Trœzene. She saw, too, how his heart was opened toward Theseus; and how Theseus bore himself before all the sons of Pallas, like a lion among a pack of curs. And she said to herself, “This youth will be master here; perhaps he is nearer to Ægeus already than mere fancy. At least the Pallantids will have no chance by the side of such as he.”Then she went back into her chamber modestly, while Theseus ate and drank; and all the servants whispered, “This, then, is the man who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge his size! Ah, would that he were our master’s son!”But presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels, and her rich Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day; so that all the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold; and she came up to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet, soft, winning voice,—“Hail to the hero, the conqueror, the unconquered, the destroyer of all evil things! Drink, hero, of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil, which heals all wounds, and pours new life into the veins. Drink of my cup, for in it sparkles the wine of the East, and Nepenthe, the comfort of the Immortals.”And as she spoke, she poured the flask into the cup; and the fragrance of the wine spread through the hall, like the scent of thyme and roses.And Theseus looked up in her fair face, and into her deep dark eyes. And as he looked, he shrank and shuddered; for they were dry like the eyes of a snake. And he rose, and said, “The wine is rich and fragrant, and the wine-bearer as fair as the Immortals; but let her pledge me first herself in the cup, that the wine may be the sweeter from her lips.”Then Medeia turned pale, and stammered, “Forgive me, fair hero; but I am ill, and dare drink no wine.”And Theseus looked again into her eyes, and cried, “Thou shalt pledge me in that cup, or die.” And he lifted up his brazen club, while all the guests looked on aghast.Medeia shrieked a fearful shriek, and dashed the cup to the ground, and fled; and where the wine flowed over the marble pavement, the stone bubbled, and crumbled, and hissed, under the fierce venom of the draught.But Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more.And Ægeus cried, “What hast thou done?” But Theseus pointed to the stone—”I have rid the land of an enchantment: now I will rid it of one more.”And he came close to Ægeus, and drew from his bosom the sword and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him.And Ægeus stepped back a pace, and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim; and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and Theseus wept on his neck, till they had no strength left to weep more.Then Ægeus turned to all the people, and cried, “Behold my son, children of Cecrops, a better man than his father was before him.”Who, then, were mad but the Pallantids, though they had been mad enough before? And one shouted, “Shall we make room for an upstart, a pretender, who comes from we know not where?” And another, “If he be one, we are more than one; and the stronger can hold his own.” And one shouted one thing, and one another; for they were hot and wild with wine: but all caught swords and lances off the wall, where the weapons hung around, and sprang forward to Theseus, and Theseus sprang forward to them.And he cried, “Go in peace, if you will, my cousins; but if not, your blood be on your own heads.” But they rushed at him; and then stopped short and railed him, as curs stop and bark when they rouse a lion from his lair.But one hurled a lance from the rear rank, which past close by Theseus’s head; and at that Theseus rushed forward, and the fight began indeed. Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus beat them all; and those who were left fled down into the town, where the people set on them, and drove them out, till Theseus was left alone in the palace, with Ægeus his new-found father. But before nightfall all the town came up, with victims, and dances, and songs; and they offered sacrifices to Athene, and rejoiced all the night long, because their king had found a noble son, and an heir to his royal house.So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter; and when the spring equinox drew near, all the Athenians grew sad and silent, and Theseus saw it, and asked the reason; but no one would answer him a word.Then he went to his father, and asked him: but Ægeus turned away his face and wept.“Do not ask, my son, beforehand, about evils which must happen: it is enough to have to face them when they come.”And when the spring equinox came, a herald came to Athens, and stood in the market, and cried, “O people and King of Athens, where is your yearly tribute?” Then a great lamentation arose throughout the city. But Theseus stood up to the herald, and cried,—“And who are you, dog-faced, who dare demand tribute here? If I did not reverence your herald’s staff, I would brain you with this club.”And the herald answered proudly, for he was a grave and ancient man,—“Fair youth, I am not dog-faced or shameless; but I do my master’s bidding, Minos, the King of hundred-citied Crete, the wisest of all kings on earth. And you must be surely a stranger here, or you would know why I come, and that I come by right.”“I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come.”“To fetch the tribute which King Ægeus promised to Minos, and confirmed his promise with an oath. For Minos conquered all this land, and Megara which lies to the east, when he came hither with a great fleet of ships, enraged about the murder of his son. For his son Androgeos came hither to the Panathenaic games, and overcame all the Greeks in the sports, so that the people honoured him as a hero. But when Ægeus saw his valour, he envied him, and feared lest he should join the sons of Pallas, and take away the sceptre from him. So he plotted against his life, and slew him basely, no man knows how or where. Some say that he waylaid him by Oinoe, on the road which goes to Thebes; and some that he sent him against the bull of Marathon, that the beast might kill him. But Ægeus says that the young men killed him from envy, because he had conquered them in the games. So Minos came hither and avenged him, and would not depart till this land had promised him tribute, seven youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship, till they come to hundred-citied Crete.”And Theseus ground his teeth together, and said, “Wert thou not a herald I would kill thee, for saying such things of my father; but I will go to him, and know the truth.” So he went to his father, and asked him; but he turned away his head and wept, and said, “Blood was shed in the land unjustly, and by blood it is avenged. Break not my heart by questions; it is enough to endure in silence.”Then Theseus groaned inwardly, and said, “I will go myself with these youths and maidens, and kill Minos upon his royal throne.”And Ægeus shrieked, and cried, “You shall not go, my son, the light of my old age, to whom alone I look to rule this people after I am dead and gone. You shall not go, to die horribly, as those youths and maidens die; for Minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, which Daidalos made for him among the rocks,—Daidalos the renegade, the accursed, the pest of this his native land. From that labyrinth no one can escape, entangled in its winding ways, before they meet the Minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. There he devours them horribly, and they never see this land again.”Then Theseus grew red, and his ears tingled, and his heart beat loud in his bosom. And he stood awhile like a tall stone pillar, on the cliffs above some hero’s grave; and at last he spoke,—“Therefore all the more I will go with them, and slay the accursed beast. Have I not slain all evil-doers and monsters, that I might free this land? Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Kerkuon, and Phaia the wild sow? Where are the fifty sons of Pallas? And this Minotaur shall go the road which they have gone, and Minos himself, if he dare stay me.”“But how will you slay him, my son? For you must leave your club and your armour behind, and be cast to the monster, defenceless and naked like the rest.”And Theseus said, “Are there no stones in that labyrinth; and have I not fists and teeth? Did I need my club to kill Kerkuon, the terror of all mortal men?”Then Ægeus clung to his knees; but he would not hear; and at last he let him go, weeping bitterly, and said only this one word,—“Promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may hardly be: take down the black sail of the ship, (for I shall watch for it all day upon the cliffs,) and hoist instead a white sail, that I may know afar off that you are safe.”And Theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place where the herald stood, while they drew lots for the youths and maidens, who were to sail in that doleful crew. And the people stood wailing and weeping, as the lot fell on this one and on that; but Theseus strode into the midst, and cried,—“Here is a youth who needs no lot. I myself will be one of the seven.”And the herald asked in wonder, “Fair youth, know you whither you are going?”And Theseus said, “I know. Let us go down to the black-sailed ship.”So they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens, and seven youths, and Theseus before them all, and the people following them lamenting. But Theseus whispered to his companions, “Have hope, for the monster is not immortal. Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Sciron, and all whom I have slain?” Then their hearts were comforted a little: but they wept as they went on board, and the cliffs of Sunium rang, and all the isles of the Ægean Sea, with the voice of their lamentation, as they sailed on toward their deaths in Crete.
I am sure that the plains Indian never made nor used the stone arrow-head. I have heard white men say that they had seen Indians use them; but I have never found an Indian that ever used them himself, or knew of their having been used by his people. Thirty years ago I knew Indians, intimately, who were nearly a hundred years old, who told me that the stone arrow-head had never been in use in their day, nor had their fathers used them in their own time. Indians find these arrow-points just as they find the stone mauls and hammers, which I have seen them use thousands of times, but they do not make them any more than they make the stone mauls and hammers. In the old days, both the head of the lance and the point of the arrow were of bone; even knives were of bone, but some other people surely made the arrow-points that are scattered throughout the United States and Europe, I am told.One night I asked War Eagle if he had ever known the use, by Indians, of the stone arrow-head, and he said he had not. He told me that just across the Canadian line there was a small lake, surrounded by trees, wherein there was an island covered with long reeds and grass. All about the edge of this island were willows that grew nearly to the water, but intervening there was a narrow beach of stones. Here, he said, the stone arrow-heads had been made by little ghost-people who lived there, and he assured me that he had often seen these strange little beings when he was a small boy. Whenever his people were camped by this lake the old folks waked the children at daybreak to see the inhabitants of this strange island; and always when a noise was made, or the sun came up, the little people hid away. Often he had seen their heads above the grass and tiny willows, and his grandfather had told him that all the stone arrow-heads had been made on that island, and in war had been shot all over the world, by magic bows.“No,” he said, “I shall not lie to you, my friend. I never saw those little people shoot an arrow, but there are so many arrows there, and so many pieces of broken ones, that it proves that my grandfather was right in what he told me. Besides, nobody could ever sleep on that island.”I have heard a legend wherein OLD-man, in the beginning, killed an animal for the people to eat, and then instructed them to use the ribs of the dead brute to make knives and arrow-points. I have seen lance-heads, made from shank bones, that were so highly polished that they resembled pearl, and I have in my possession bone arrow-points such as were used long ago. Indians do not readily forget their tribal history, and I have photographed a war-bonnet, made of twisted buffalo hair, that was manufactured before the present owner’s people had, or ever saw, the horse. The owner of this bonnet has told me that the stone arrow-head was never used by Indians, and that he knew that ghost-people made and used them when the world was young.The bow of the plains Indian was from thirty-six to forty-four inches long, and made from the wood of the choke-cherry tree. Sometimes bows were made from the service (or sarvice) berry bush, and this bush furnished the best material for arrows. I have seen hickory bows among the plains Indians, too, and these were longer and always straight, instead of being fashioned like Cupid’s weapon. These hickory bows came from the East, of course, and through trading, reached the plains country. I have also seen bows covered with the skins of the bull-snake, or wound with sinew, and bows have been made from the horns of the elk, in the early days, after a long course of preparation.Before Lewis and Clark crossed this vast country, the Blackfeet had traded with the Hudson Bay Company, and steel knives and lance-heads, bearing the names of English makers, still remain to testify to the relations existing, in those days, between those famous traders and men of the Piegan, Blood, and Blackfoot tribes, although it took many years for traders on our own side of the line to gain their friendship. Indeed, trappers and traders blamed the Hudson Bay Company for the feeling of hatred held by the three tribes of Blackfeet for the “Americans”; and there is no doubt that they were right to some extent, although the killing of the Blackfoot warrior by Captain Lewis in 1805 may have been largely to blame for the trouble. Certain it is that for many years after the killing, the Blackfeet kept traders and trappers on the dodge unless they were Hudson Bay men, and in 1810 drove the “American” trappers and traders from their fort at Three-Forks.It was early when we gathered in War Eagle’s lodge, the children and I, but the story-telling began at once.“Now I shall tell you a story that will show you how little OLD-man cared for the welfare of others,” said War Eagle.“It happened in the fall, this thing I shall tell you, and the day was warm and bright. OLD-man and his brother the Red Fox were travelling together for company. They were on a hillside when OLD-Man said: ‘I am hungry. Can you not kill a Rabbit or something for us to eat? The way is long, and I am getting old, you know. You are swift of foot and cunning, and there are Rabbits among these rocks.’“‘Ever since morning came I have watched for food, but the moon must be wrong or something, for I see nothing that is good to eat,’ replied the Fox. ‘Besides that, my medicine is bad and my heart is weak. You are great, and I have heard you can do most anything. Many snows have known your footprints, and the snows make us all wise. I think you are the one to help, not I.’“‘Listen, brother,’ said OLD-man, ‘I have neither bow nor lance—nothing to use in hunting. Your weapons are ever with you—your great nose and your sharp teeth. Just as we came up this hill I saw two great Buffalo-Bulls. You were not looking, but I saw them, and if you will do as I want you to we shall have plenty of meat. This is my scheme; I shall pull out all of your hair, leaving your body white and smooth, like that of the fish. I shall leave only the white hair that grows on the tip of your tail, and that will make you funny to look at. Then you are to go before the Bulls and commence to dance and act foolish. Of course the Bulls will laugh at you, and as soon as they get to laughing you must act sillier than ever. That will make them laugh so hard that they will fall down and laugh on the ground. When they fall, I shall come upon them with my knife and kill them. Will you do as I suggest, brother, or will you starve?’“‘What! Pull out my hair? I shall freeze with no hair on my body, OLD-man. No—I will not suffer you to pull my hair out when the winter is so near,’ cried the Fox.“‘Ho! It is vanity, my brother, not fear of freezing. If you will do this we shall have meat for the winter, and a fire to keep us warm. See, the wind is in the south and warm. There is no danger of freezing. Come, let me do it,’ replied OLD-man.“‘Well—if you are sure that I won’t freeze, all right,’ said the Fox, ‘but I’ll bet I’ll be sorry.’“So Old-man pulled out all of the Fox’s hair, leaving only the white tip that grew near the end of his tail. Poor little Red Fox shivered in the warm breeze that OLD-man told about, and kept telling OLD-man that the hair-pulling hurt badly. Finally OLD-man finished the job and laughed at the Fox, saying: ‘Why, you make me laugh, too. Now go and dance before the Bulls, and I shall watch and be ready for my part of the scheme.’“Around the hill went the poor Red Fox and found the Bulls. Then he began to dance before them as OLD-man had told him. The Bulls took one look at the hairless Fox and began to laugh. My! How they did laugh, and then the Red Fox stood upon his hind legs and danced some more; acted sillier, as OLD-man had told him. Louder and louder laughed the Bulls, until they fell to the ground with their breath short from the laughing. The Red Fox kept at his antics lest the Bulls get up before OLD-man reached them; but soon he saw him coming, with a knife in his hand.“Running up to the Bulls, OLD-man plunged his knife into their hearts, and they died. Into the ground ran their blood, and then OLD-man laughed and said: ‘Ho, I am the smart one. I am the real hunter. I depend on my head for meat—ha!—ha!-ha!’“Then OLD-man began to dress and skin the Bulls, and he worked hard and long. In fact it was nearly night when he got the work all done.“Poor little Red Fox had stood there all the time, and OLD-man never noticed that the wind had changed and was coming from the north. Yes, poor Red Fox stood there and spoke no word; said nothing at all, even when OLD-man had finished.“‘Hi, there, you! what’s the matter with you? Are you sorry that we have meat? Say, answer me!’“But the Red Fox was frozen stiff—was dead. Yes, the north wind had killed him while OLD-man worked at the skinning. The Fox had been caught by the north wind naked, and was dead. OLD-man built a fire and warmed his hands; that was all he cared for the Red Fox, and that is all he cared for anybody. He might have known that no person could stand the north wind without a robe; but as long as he was warm himself—that was all he wanted.“That is all of that story. To-morrow night I shall tell you why the birch-tree wears those slashes in its bark. That was some of OLD-man’s work, too. Ho!”
In a certain country lived a Tsar named Kartaus, who had twelve knights, and the Tsar had a chief over these knights, Prince Lasar Lasarevich. Prince Lasar and his wife, the Princess Epistimia, lived for seventy years and had no child; and they began, with tears, to sigh for one to cheer their old age, and to pray for their souls after death.At length their wish was granted, and they had a son, whom Prince Lasar named Yaroslav. The little fellow had a rosy face, blonde hair, and bright eyes. His parents were overjoyed and made a great feast. When Yaroslav was fifteen years old he went often to the Tsar’s Court and played with the children of princes and boyars. Then the princes counselled together, and went to the Tsar and said: “Our lord and sovereign, grant us your imperial favour: your Majesty has a knight, Prince Lasar, whose son Yaroslav comes to your imperial Court and plays with our children; but his sports are mischievous, for whenever he takes anyone by the head, the head falls off, and this causes us great trouble and grief. Now, O Tsar, show us your favour, and either send Yaroslav out of your kingdom or grant us leave to depart, for live we cannot with Yaroslav.”Then the Tsar Kartaus immediately sent for Prince Lasar, told him the complaints the princes and nobles had made of Yaroslav, and commanded that he should leave the kingdom. When Lasar heard this command, he rode away sorrowfully, with his head hanging lower than his shoulders. Now Yaroslav came to meet his father, bowed to the ground, and said: “Long years of happiness to my lord and father! Why ride you so sorrowfully, my lord? Have you received an unkind word from the Tsar?” Prince Lasar answered: “My dear child Yaroslav, I have indeed received a cruel order from the Tsar. Other children are a joy to their father from their youth up, a support in his old age, and the guardian of his memory when dead. Not so, alas! with you, my son. You go to the Tsar’s Court and play mischievous tricks with the children of the princes and boyars, and they have complained to the Tsar Kartaus, and he has banished you from the kingdom.”At this Yaroslav laughed and said: “My lord and father, grieve not for me that I am banished. I have only one trouble: I am now fifteen years old, and have never been able to find in your stables a good horse that might serve me for ever and aye.” Then they went into the marble halls, and Yaroslav Lasarevich begged permission of his father and mother to travel about the world, to see men and to be seen. So his parents at length consented, and gave him twenty lads, and fifty skilful builders, to build a marble palace on the sea coast. These builders erected the palace in three days, and sent a messenger to Prince Lasar and the Princess Epistimia, to tell them that the splendid palace was ready. Then Yaroslav took leave of his parents, and Prince Lasar and his wife wept bitterly at parting with their son, and gave him their blessing.So Yaroslav Lasarevich rode until he came to the marble palace on the seashore. His father and mother offered him gold, silver, jewels, horses, and attendants, but Yaroslav would have none of these: he took with him only an old horse, a Tcherkess saddle, a snaffle-bit, a blanket, and a leather whip. Thus came Yaroslav to his marble palace on the seashore, threw the blanket over him, placed the saddle under his head, and stretched himself out to sleep. Early the next morning Yaroslav arose, went out to walk on the seashore, and shot a number of wild geese, swans, and ducks. Upon these he fed, and lived thus one, two, and three months. Then he went upon a road which was so broad that a shot could not reach across it, and so deep that it went to the ears of a brave steed. Yaroslav looked at the road, and said to himself: “Who travels this road, a great army or a stout knight?” It happened that an old man came riding up to him on his grey horse, and he dismounted and threw himself down with his face to the ground, saying: “Long life and happiness to you, Yaroslav Lasarevich! How goes it with you, my lord? and how comes it that you are in this desert spot?” “What is your name, old brother?” said Yaroslav. The man replied: “My name is Ivashka, master, and my horse is called Alotyagilei. I am a great shot and a mighty wrestler in the host of knights.” “But how do you know my name?” replied Yaroslav. Ivashka answered: “My Lord, I am an old servant of your father, and have tended his horses in the fields for three-and-thirty years, and I come to your father once every year to receive my wages. Thus it is that I know you.” Yaroslav answered: “I am going to the chase, and am wandering about in the open fields. He who has not tasted the bitter, does not relish the sweet. While still a young boy I ran about in the courtyard, and played with the children of the princes and boyars. But when I seize anyone by the head, his head falls off, and, when I take him by the hand, his hand falls off. This was not agreeable to the Tsar, and he banished me from his kingdom; but this punishment was nothing in comparison to another greater grief which pains me sorely. I am already fifteen years old, but can find no horse in my father’s stable that might serve me for life.” Then said Ivashka: “My lord, Yaroslav Lasarevich, I have a horse, which is called Podlas: he must be caught, and he will serve you for ever and a day. If you do not catch him now you never will.” “But how can I see the horse, brother Ivashka?” Ivashka answered: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, you can see this steed early in the morning, when I take the horses to the sea to drink, but if, when you see him, you do not seize him on the spot, you never will.” Thereupon Yaroslav Lasarevich went into his marble palace, laid the horse-cloth under him, and the Tcherkess saddle and the bit under his head, and stretched himself out to sleep. The next morning he rose early, went into the field, and took the bridle, the Tcherkess saddle, and the leather whip with him. He concealed himself under an oak tree; and presently saw Ivashka driving the horses to the sea to water, and, as he gazed upon the sea, he observed that where a steed drank, the waves foamed and roared fearfully. Above the oak tree screamed the eagles, and on the mountains roared the lions, and no one could approach the spot. Yaroslav wondered greatly, and when the horse came to stand opposite him, he leaped out from the oak and struck him with the back of his hand. The horse fell on his knees, and he seized him by his mane and said: “My trusty steed, who shall ride on you if not I your master?” Then he threw the bridle over him, put the Tcherkess saddle on his back, and rode to the marble palace, and Ivashka followed. Then said he to Ivashka: “What name shall I give this horse?” “How, my lord, shall a servant know better than his master to name such a horse?” So Yaroslav named him Uroshtch Veschei; and he said to Ivashka: “Ride to my father, Prince Lasar, and tell him I am well and have found a trusty steed.” Then Yaroslav Lasarevich rode off upon his good horse to Ivan the Russian knight, and behind him followed Ivashka at full gallop till he was lost to sight.Ivashka returned to the kingdom of Kartaus, to Yaroslav’s father and mother, and carried the tidings that he was well. The parents rejoiced greatly to hear of their son, and dismissed Ivashka with rich presents. But Yaroslav Lasarevich rode on and on, for two and for three months, until at last he came to a field where an immense army lay slain. Then he cried with a loud voice: “Is there here no man still alive?” Immediately a man stood up and said: “My lord, Yaroslav Lasarevich, whom dost thou seek?” “I want a living man,” said Yaroslav; and then he enquired to whom the army belonged, and who had slain it. “The army,” replied the man, “belonged to Feodul the Dragon Tsar, and it has been slain by Prince Ivan the Russian knight, who sued for the hand of Feodul’s daughter, the Princess Kandaula Feodulavna; and, as he would not give her of his free will, Ivan sought to take her by force.” Thereupon Yaroslav asked how far distant this Russian knight was; and the man replied: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, he has gone too far for you to reach him; ride round the army, and you will see the footsteps of Prince Ivan.” So Yaroslav rode round the army, and saw the tracks of the bounding of the steed; for wherever he had struck his hoofs, large heaps of earth were thrown up. He followed the track until he came to another slain army: here he cried with a loud voice: “Is there not one living man here who has survived the battle?” Then up rose a man and said: “My lord, Yaroslav Lasarevich, one steed is better than another, and one youth surpasses another.” Yaroslav rode on, and he rode for one, two, and three months; when at length he came to an open country, where he descried a white tent and beside it a goodly steed, before which corn was poured out upon a white linen cloth. Yaroslav dismounted and led his horse to feed, and his horse drove the other way. Then Yaroslav entered the tent, where a comely youth lay fast asleep: he drew his sword, and was on the point of slaying him when he bethought himself that it would bring no honour to slay a sleeping man; so he lay down in the tent, on the other side, near Prince Ivan. When Ivan awoke he went out of the tent, and saw that his steed was driven away, and was grazing in the open fields, whilst a strange horse ate the corn. Then he returned to the tent and saw a youth lying fast asleep. Prince Ivan looked fiercely at him; but suddenly reflected that he should have little honour from killing a man asleep. So he cried: “Stand up, man, and save yourself. Why have you put your horse to feed on another’s corn, and lain down to sleep in another’s tent? For this you must answer with your life.” Then Yaroslav awoke, and Prince Ivan asked him his name, whence he came, and who his parents were. “I am from the kingdom of Kartaus,” answered Yaroslav, “the son of Prince Lasar and the Princess Epistimia and my name is Yaroslav. Your steed has not been driven away by me, but by my horse, and good folk are not used to meet strangers with uncivil speech, but rather to treat them with hospitality. If you have a glass of water, give it to me, for I am your guest.” “You are young,” said Ivan, “and it befits me not to fetch your water; bring it to me rather.” “You pluck the bird before you have caught it,” replied the other, “and blame a youth ere you have tried him.” Then said Prince Ivan: “I am the prince of princes, and the knight of knights, and you are a cossack.” “Ay, indeed!” replied Yaroslav, “you are prince in your tent; but let us meet in the open field and we are equals.” Prince Ivan saw that he had no coward to deal with: he took a golden flask, fetched some cold water, and gave it to Yaroslav to drink. Then they mounted their horses and rode into the open country. And when they began to fight, Yaroslav struck Prince Ivan with the butt of his lance and hurled him to the ground: then he whirled round his horse, put the point of his lance to Ivan’s breast, and said: “Prince Ivan, wilt thou live or die?” And Ivan answered: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, be to me my elder brother—spare my life!”Then Yaroslav dismounted, took Prince Ivan, the Russian knight, by his hand and embraced him, calling him his younger brother; whereupon they mounted their steeds, rode off to the tent, and fell to feasting and making merry. And Yaroslav said: “My lord brother, Prince Ivan, as I was wandering in the open country I came upon two slain armies.” To which Ivan replied: “Brother Yaroslav, the first army, of the Tsar Feodul, I slew when he refused to give me his daughter Kandaula in marriage; and I am resolved to carry her off by force, for I hear there is no such beauty in the world. To-morrow I shall fight the last battle with him, and thou shall be witness of my valour.” The next morning Prince Ivan rose early, saddled his steed, and rode to the kingdom of Feodul, the Dragon Tsar; and Yaroslav went on foot, and concealed himself under an oak tree to witness the fight. Then Prince Ivan called upon the Tsar with a loud voice, and Feodul ordered the trumpets to sound, and an army of a hundred thousand men to assemble. The Tsar Feodul rode against Prince Ivan, and before and behind him rode an innumerable host of squires and knights. Ivan grasped his shield with one hand and his lance with the other. As the falcon swoops upon the geese, swans, and ducks, even so did Prince Ivan fall upon that terrible army; and his steed trod to the ground twice as many as he himself slew. He destroyed the whole host, sparing only the lives of the old men and boys, who could not resist; and he took the Tsar Feodul prisoner, and put him to death. Then he hastened to his kingdom and carried off the Princess Kandaula. He took her by her white hands, kissed her on her soft lips, and led her into his tent. Soon after Yaroslav Lasarevich also arrived, and they all fell to feasting and making merry.When Yaroslav went out of the tent Ivan said: “My beloved Princess, tell me, is there in the world a fairer one than thou art, or a braver knight than my brother Yaroslav Lasarevich? I have gone far and wide and have not found thine equal.” “Nay,” replied the Princess, “there are yet fairer than I am. In the open fields is a white tent, in which dwell the daughters of the Tsar Bogrigor. The eldest is named Prodora, the second Tivobriga, and the youngest Legia: they are ten times fairer than I; compared to them I am as night to day. Whilst with my parents I was still fair, but now I am wasted with sorrow. And on the road to the kingdom of India there is a knight, in the dominions of Tsar Dalmat, named Ivashka Whitemantle Saracen’s-cap. I have heard from my father that for three-and-thirty years he has guarded the kingdom of India, and that no traveller or knight rides past, no animal runs by, and no bird flies past; I know no one braver than he, for I have never before heard of the valour of Yaroslav Lasarevich.”Now Yaroslav overheard these words, and his chivalrous heart could not brook it. He saddled his steed, embraced Ivan the Russian knight, and the Princess Kandaula, and rode off towards the kingdom of the Tsar Dalmat, to engage in fight with Ivashka Whitemantle. He had journeyed for some time, when he bethought himself that he was bound on an enterprise of life and death, without having taken leave of his father and mother. So he turned and rode till he came to the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus, where he encountered Prince Daniil the White, at the head of three thousand men, who boasted that he would subdue the kingdom of Kartaus, take prisoners the Tsar himself, Prince Lasar, and the twelve knights, and carry them off to his own country. Yaroslav rode straight to the city, and there beheld Prince Lasar assembling an army for battle. Then dismounting from his horse, he threw himself with his face to the ground and said: “Long life to my lord and father! How fares it with thee? Wherefore so sad, my lord?” And Prince Lasar answered: “My dear son, whence art thou come like a sunbeam to cheer me? How can I help grieving? Prince Daniil has invaded our dominion with an immense army and threatens to seize it and carry off the Tsar and me and the twelve knights prisoners.” Then spoke Yaroslav Lasarevich: “My lord and father, give me the shield, and lance, and I will go out to fight the enemy.” But Prince Lasar answered: “My son, how canst thou combat such a host, who hast never been in battle? The cries of the Tartars will terrify thee, and they will slay thee!” “Teach not the goose to swim, father,” answered Yaroslav, “nor a knight’s son to fight with Tartars! Only give me what I demand, and fear nought.”Like a falcon darting upon geese and swans, Yaroslav fell upon the armies of Prince Daniil the White; and he hewed down not so many as his horse trampled under his hoofs, and he took Daniil prisoner. Yaroslav made him pledge his word never again to set foot in the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus—he nor his children, nor his children’s children; adding that if he fell again into his hands he should die a miserable death. Then Yaroslav sent him back to his own country, and rode into the city. Then Tsar Kartaus came out to meet him, and Yaroslav threw himself with his face to the ground and said: “Long years of happiness to thee, my liege Tsar Kartaus!” “Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich,” answered Kartaus, “I have wronged thee in banishing thee from my kingdom. Abide here and choose the best city and the fairest villages. My treasures are open to thee—take what thou desirest, and thy place is at my side.” Yaroslav answered: “O Tsar, I am wont to rove about, to seek adventure and to fight.” So, after he had eaten salt and bread with the Tsar and with his parents, he took leave of them all and rode forth.And Yaroslav rode one, two, and three months, till at length he came to a plain, on which was pitched a white tent, wherein sat the three fair daughters of the Tsar Bogrigor, of whose beauty there was not the like in the wide world; and they were busy at their work. Yaroslav stepped into the tent, and was so amazed at the sight, that he forgot to pray to the ikons of the Saints. Then he took the eldest daughter, Prodora, by the hand, and desiring the others to leave the tent, said: “My gentle and beautiful Princess Prodora Bogrigorovna, is there in the world a fairer maiden than thou, or a braver knight than I?” And Prodora answered: “Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich, how can you call me fair? In the city of Dobri lives the daughter of the Tsar Vorcholomei, the Princess Anastasia, compared to her we are like night to day. On the way to the Indian kingdom of the Tsar Dalmat is a knight named Ivashka Whitemantle Saracen’s-cap, and I have heard from my father that he is very powerful, and has guarded the kingdom of India for three-and-thirty years; no one passes him on foot or horse, no animal runs, no bird flies past. But what a brave knight art thou indeed to drive us maidens from the tent!” At this Yaroslav was angered: he bowed the head of the Princess and struck it off with his sword. Then he took the second Princess, Tivobriga, by the hand and said: “Gentle princess, is there a more beautiful maiden in the world than thou, or a braver knight than I?” And she answered as the eldest had done; so he struck off her head in like manner. Then he took the third sister Legia by the hand and asked her the same question as her sisters. And Legia answered: “Sir Yaroslav, I am neither beautiful nor good. When I was with my father and mother I was so, but now I am wasted and no longer handsome.” Then she likewise told him of the Princess Anastasia, the daughter of the Tsar Vorcholomei, and of the knight Ivashka. “Fairest lady,” replied Yaroslav, “thou has comforted me with thy gentle words.”Then he went out of the tent, took leave of Legia, mounted his steed, and rode off to the kingdom of India, to see the Tsar Dalmat and Ivashka Whitemantle. And he rode on for one, two and three months; and when he came near the city, there upon the plain stood Ivashka, leaning upon a lance, with a Saracen’s cap on his head and a white mantle around him. Yaroslav rode up to him, struck off his cap with his whip, and said: “Lie down and sleep, there is no need to stand!” “Who art thou?” inquired Ivashka; “what is thy name, and whence comest thou?” Yaroslav answered: “I am come from the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus, and my name is Yaroslav: I am preparing to journey to the kingdom of India to pay my respects to the Tsar Dalmat.” But Ivashka answered: “Never has man or animal passed this way, and thinkest thou to do so? First let us go into the plain and try the prowess of our arms!” The two knights made a furious onset; and after a long fight Yaroslav thrust his lance at Ivashka’s heart, and threw him from the saddle; and Ivashka fell upon the ground like a sheaf of oats, and Yaroslav slew him on the spot.Then Yaroslav rode on his way to the kingdom of India, and on arriving at the city he went straight to the Tsar Dalmat; and, entering the palace, he made his obeisance and said: “Long years of happiness to thee, O Tsar, to thy family, and all thy princes and boyars! Take me into thy service!” Then said Dalmat: “Man, whence comest thou, and what is thy name, and whose son art thou?” So Yaroslav told him, and the Tsar said: “Which way hast thou come, by land or by water?” Yaroslav replied: “By land,” and the Tsar said: “I have a knight who dwells upon the open plains, and has guarded my kingdom for three-and-thirty years; no man or animal has ever passed him, on horse, foot, or wing; and how hast thou ridden past?” Yaroslav answered: “I have vanquished this man, O Tsar; but I knew not that he belonged to thee.”On hearing this the Tsar was terrified, and thought to himself: “If he has slain such a knight he can easily conquer my kingdom, and he only wants to rob me of my throne.” This thought made him sorrowful, and he commanded all honour to be shown to Yaroslav Lasarevich, and gave him drink from his own goblet. Then Yaroslav observed that the Tsar feared him: he went out of the castle, saddled his steed, and rode away out of the kingdom. Tsar Dalmat was rejoiced to be freed from Yaroslav, and ordered the gates to be closed fast behind him.Yaroslav now resolved to go to the city of Dobri to witness the beauty of the Princess Anastasia, and he rode on for one, two, and three months. Then he bethought himself: “I have come to a strange country, perhaps to marry this Princess, or meet death without having my parents’ blessing.”And with that, away he rode to the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus, which he found conquered, and laid waste with fire and sword. There remained one solitary hut standing, in which dwelt a one-eyed old man. Yaroslav stepped into the hut, bowed to the man, and said: “Old brother, what has happened to this kingdom?” The man answered: “Brave knight, whence art thou come, and what is thy name?” But Yaroslav replied: “Knowest thou me not? I was born in this kingdom, the son of Prince Lasar, and my name is Yaroslav.” On hearing this the old man fell to the earth, and said with tears: “Since thou hast been gone, long time has passed. Daniil the White returned, and with him five times a hundred thousand men; he fell upon this kingdom, laid it waste with fire and sword, and slew a hundred thousand brave warriors. Five millions of the common folk, with all the priests and monks, he burnt in the open fields, slew twelve thousand infants, took prisoners the Tsar Kartaus with his twelve knights, and put to death the Tsarina and thy mother, the Princess Epistimia. I am the only one left alive, and have lain nine days here half-dead with fear.”Yaroslav wept when he heard this, and mounting his steed, commended himself to the Saints, and rode to seek the Tsar Daniil the White. He came to the city at noon without being seen, except by some little boys playing in the streets: and he asked them where the Tsar Kartaus was, as he wished to give him alms; so they showed him the prison. At the gate a guard was standing, but Yaroslav struck him down, and broke open the doors. On entering the prison, he saw Kartaus, his father Lasar, and the twelve knights, all blinded; at which cruel sight he fell to the ground, and with tears exclaimed: “Long life to thee, O Tsar, to thee my father, and to you brave knights!” Then answered Kartaus: “I hear thy voice but cannot see thy face. Whence comest thou, what is thy name, and whose son art thou?” So Yaroslav told him who he was; but Kartaus replied: “Fellow, away! and mock me not.”“Father,” replied Yaroslav, “I am indeed Yaroslav, and come to relieve you.” “Lie not, fellow!” said Kartaus; “if Yaroslav had been alive we should not sit here in prison and suffer such a cruel fate; but I should have been reigning in my kingdom with Prince Lasar and my twelve knights. But since Yaroslav is dead we are punished for our sins, and sit here in sightless solitude. If, however, you are really the true Yaroslav Lasarevich, ride, I pray thee, beyond the Still Waters and the Warm Sea, to the city of Shtchetin, where rules the Tsar Fireshield. Slay him, and take some drops of his blood; and when you return, anoint our eyes with it and we shall then see and shall believe you.”Yaroslav made his obeisance to the Tsar, mounted his horse, and rode forth. But the boys in the streets had observed him, and they told it to their fathers, who said to Daniil the White: “O Prince, there has been in our city a brave warrior; his horse was like a lion, and he was armed from head to foot, and he rode away from the prison where Tsar Kartaus and his companions are confined.” Instantly Prince Daniil sent his servant Mursa to enquire who had been in the prison. And when he came there he found the doors standing open, and the guard slain; then, entering the doors, he said: “O Tsar Kartaus, tell me who has been with you here? Prince Daniil sends me to inquire.” And Kartaus answered: “My good fellow how can we tell who was here? A man was in the prison who called himself Yaroslav, but we recognized not his voice.”Then Mursa returned to Prince Daniil, and told him what Kartaus had said; and forthwith Prince Daniil ordered the trumpets to sound and the drums to beat; and a host of Tartars assembled around him to the number of two hundred and fifty thousand men. And he commanded thirty horsemen to pursue and take Yaroslav and to bring him before him. So they went in pursuit, and after riding for some time they descried Yaroslav asleep under an oak tree, and his horse standing beside him. The horse perceived that the Tartars were in pursuit of his master, and neighed loudly. Thereat Yaroslav awoke, and seeing the knights afar, he mounted his steed and rode off, exclaiming: “First catch the wind on the wide plains and then look to catch me!”So saying he vanished from their sight, and rode beyond the Still Waters and the Warm Seas to the Podolish Horde, to the city of Shtchetin. Then the Tartars took counsel together what they should say to the Prince, and they resolved to pretend that they had not seen Yaroslav.Yaroslav Lasarevich arrived in half a year at the city of Shtchetin, before which lay the remains of an army slain, and in the midst the head of a knight as big as a large hillock. Then Yaroslav rode round this army, and cried with a loud voice: “Is there not here one living man?” And the Knight’s head said: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, whom seekest thou?” At this Yaroslav marvelled greatly; but the Head spoke again: “Wonder not, but tell me whither thou ridest, and what thou seekest.” Then Yaroslav asked: “But who art thou? In what kingdom dost thou dwell, and who are thy father and mother?” And the Head answered: “I am a knight of the Sadonic kingdom, son of the Tsar Prochos, and my name is Raslanei.” And Yaroslav said: “Whose armies lie here slain?” “These hosts belong to the Tsar Fireshield,” replied Raslanei, “and a year has not passed since I came here and slew them. The cause of the war was that the Tsar had seized upon towns belonging to my father. But tell me, Yaroslav, how far are you journeying?” Then said Yaroslav: “I am riding to the city of Shtchetin to slay the Tsar Fireshield.” But the Head answered: “Sooner will you be slain yourself! I was indeed a powerful knight, feared by all Tsars and knights; at my birth I was six feet tall, and as stout as a man could compass. When I was ten years old no wild beast, no man on foot, or knight on horse, could stand before me. Now you see how I am grown: my body is sixty feet long, twelve feet between the shoulders, and a feathered shaft can lie between my eyebrows. My head is as big as a brewer’s vat; my arms are twenty feet long, and I could not stand my ground against the Tsar. The Tsar is strong, and has a mighty host; sword and scimitar wound him not; fire does not burn, water does not drown him. Yet I have a sword which can wound him, but unluckily I could not wield it, and he struck me down. Nevertheless, I will do you good service, and give you counsel; when you come to the city of Shtchetin and the Tsar Fireshield sees and questions you, answer that you desire to serve him. Then he will bid you follow him; do so, and serve him faithfully, and when he goes out to the chase, accompany him. Then remind him of me, and he will grow sad, but tell him you can get the sword which lies under my head. He will not believe you, but pledge your word, and as soon as you can, come to me, I will lift my head and give you the sword.”Then Yaroslav made his bow, mounted his steed and rode to Shtchetin; and, as he approached the city, the Tsar perceived and accosted him. Yaroslav dismounted, and falling with his face to the ground, said: “Long years of happiness to thee, O Tsar! Take me, I pray, into thy service.” Then the Tsar asked him whence he came, whose son he was, and what was his name. Yaroslav replied: “I have roamed far and wide, and now seek the service of a good lord and master; I was born in the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus, the son of Prince Lasar, and my name is Yaroslav.” Then said the Tsar: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, ride into my city—I want followers.” So Yaroslav rode into the city.One day the Tsar rode out to the chase, and took with him the boyars and knights, and Yaroslav was among them. When they approached the Knight’s Head, Yaroslav stood and marvelled at the sight. Then said the Tsar: “Why standest thou there, Yaroslav?” And Yaroslav answered: “O Tsar, I see here a great army lie slain, and this Knight’s Head, under which rests a trusty sword.” The Tsar sighed and answered: “This Knight has destroyed my army, and I slew him; his sword lies under his head, and I cannot get it. No sword can wound me, no fire burn, no water drown me; this sword alone has the power to slay me.”Then said Yaroslav: “O Tsar, permit me to bring thee the sword.” And the Tsar replied: “Do this service and I will set thee above all my knights; but if thou talkest idly, thou shalt be safe neither in water, nor under the earth, nor among the rocks.” And so saying, the Tsar returned into the city, and Yaroslav rode up to the Knight’s Head and said: “Sir Knight’s Head, I trust to thy love and friendship to fulfil thy promise and give me up this sword; for I have given my word to the Tsar to take it to him, and shall die a cruel death if I perform not my promise.” But the Knight’s Head answered not a word. Then Yaroslav dismounted from his good steed, fell on his knees before him, and said: “Sir Raslanei, let me die not thus in vain—give me, I pray, the sword from under thee.”Thereupon the Knight Raslanei raised himself, and Yaroslav took the sword, bowed to the Knight’s Head, and mounting his steed, rode off to the city of Shtchetin. And on the way he said to himself: “Hitherto I have been victorious over Tsars and knights, but now indeed I am forced to bend before a Knight’s Head, and entreat him to give me a sword!”Raslanei heard this, and cried with a loud voice: “Ho, Sir Knight! return!” So Yaroslav turned round, and went back to the Head; and the Head reproached him, saying: “Thy sword could not touch my helm.” Then Yaroslav fell on the ground and said: “Sir Knight Raslanei, pardon me for having offended thee!” And the Knight’s Head answered: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, thy youth and want of understanding have made thee speak thus. Thou hast taken my sword indeed; but even with this thou mayest still lose thy life; nevertheless, I wish thee well, and will teach thee understanding. When thou comest to the city, and the Tsar sees thee, he will descend from his throne for joy, welcome thee in the midst of his Court, and give thee gold and silver and precious stones. Then deal him a single blow upon his head with the sword; but beware of striking a second blow, or he will revive and kill thee.”And so saying, he stretched out his hand to take the sword.Yaroslav bowed himself to the Knight’s Head, and rode to the city; and no sooner had he reached the castle, and the Tsar saw him bringing the sword, than he sprang from his throne, flung away his sceptre, received him in his Court, and said: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, in return for this service I grant thee one place opposite me, the second by my side, and a third where thou wilt. My treasures are open to thee—take towns and handsome villages, and if thou wilt have my daughter the Princess Nasaria for wife, I will give thee one-half of my kingdom.” And so saying, he stretched out his hand to take the sword; but Yaroslav struck him a blow which cleft his head, and the Tsar fell dead on the spot. Then all the princes and boyars cried aloud: “Yaroslav Lasarevich, strike him a second blow!” But he answered: “A knight deals one blow, and that is enough.” Forthwith a number of princes and boyars and the twelve knights fell upon him, and were going to put him to death; but Yaroslav set his lance under his arm, seized the Tsar with his left hand, and clutching his sword with his right, he fell to slaying the princes and knights on all sides.Soon the other princes and inhabitants of the city cried aloud: “O Yaroslav Lasarevich, cease killing and slaying! It is the will of fate—live with us and rule over our land!” But Yaroslav replied: “Choose a Tsar from among yourselves: I am no Tsar for you.” He ceased, however, slaying the people, and taking some of the Tsar’s blood, put it into a phial; then mounting his horse, he rode out of the city and away, until he came to Sir Raslanei, and, taking the headless body, he set the head upon it, and sprinkled it with the blood. Thereupon the Knight stood up, as if awakened from a dream; and Yaroslav embraced him, and they called one another brothers: Raslanei was the elder, and Yaroslav the younger. Then they parted, and each rode his way. Raslanei rode to his Sadonic kingdom, to receive his mother’s blessing, as he wished to marry the daughter of the Tsar of Shtchetin, and rule over that city. But Yaroslav rode on and on for half a year, until he came to the kingdom of Daniil the White. On entering the city he went straight to the prison, before which a strong guard was posted: so he slew them all, broke open the gates, entered the prison, and said: “Hail, O Tsar Kartaus, and thou my father, Prince Lasar, and ye twelve knights! How does Heaven protect you?” But the Tsar Kartaus answered: “Man, whence are thou, and what is thy name?” “O Tsar,” replied Yaroslav, “I was born in thy kingdom, the son of Prince Lasar, and my name is Yaroslav. I have fulfilled thy commands and slain the mighty Tsar, and have taken some of his blood.” Then said Kartaus: “If thy name is indeed Yaroslav Lasarevich, and thou hast slain the Tsar and taken of his blood, anoint our eyes with it; then we shall see the light of heaven and shall believe thee.”So Yaroslav took the blood from his phial and anointed their eyes, and they saw again; thereat they were overjoyed, and with tears exclaimed: “O Yaroslav Lasarevich, it is indeed he!” and they embraced him. Then the Tsar Kartaus asked him: “Where hast thou been so long?” “Wait an instant,” replied Yaroslav; and so saying, he left the prison, mounted his good steed, and rode out of the city.Early the next morning Yaroslav cried out with a loud voice; and when Prince Daniil the White heard the shout, he ordered the trumpets to sound and the drums to beat. Then the Murses and Tartars flocked around him, and divers warlike peoples, and Prince Daniil the White rode with them all out of the city.Yaroslav Lasarevich took his shield and lance, and exclaimed: “As the falcon pounces upon white swans and grey ducks, so darts the brave Yaroslav Lasarevich upon the army of Daniil the White!” And many as he slew with his sword, his steed trod down yet more, and he killed ten thousand Murses, and a hundred thousand of the common Tartars; and he made Prince Daniil the White prisoner, and led him up to the city. He baptized all the little children up to the age of ten years into the true religion, and pronounced a curse upon theirs. Then he commanded the wife of Prince Daniil the White to be put to death, since she had killed his mother, the Princess Epistimia; but he spared the life of Prince Daniil and his nobles as he had not slain the Tsar Kartaus and Prince Lasar; he only put out their eyes, and threw them into prison under a strong guard. Then all the citizens came and fell with their faces to the earth, and entreated Yaroslav to reign over them; but instead, he seated the Tsar Kartaus on the throne, and Prince Lasar and the twelve knights were restored to their posts of honour. So there were great rejoicings, and they fell to feasting right merrily.When the tables were removed, Yaroslav Lasarevich stood up, praying to the ikons of the Saints, and took leave of his father and the Tsar Kartaus. All present followed him with their tears, and entreated him not to leave them, but he mounted his horse, and making his bow, rode off towards the city of Dobri, in the kingdom of the Tsar Vorcholomei, to see the beauty of the Princess Anastasia. Now, in this country there was a large lake, in which lived a huge three-headed Dragon guarding a precious stone, that every year came to the shore and devoured a number of men. The Tsar had proclaimed again and again that if anyone slew this monster he would give them plenty of gold and silver and towns. When Yaroslav came to the city and heard of this proclamation, he mounted his steed again and rode off to the lake. As soon as the monster espied him, he sprang ashore: Yaroslav’s horse trembled with fright, and fell on his knees, and Yaroslav was thrown to the ground. Then the Dragon seized and drew him into the lake. Yaroslav, who had nothing but his battle sword, leaped upon the back of the monster, and with one blow struck off his two heads, and was about to cut off the third, when the Dragon turned round, and entreating him, said: “O Yaroslav Lasarevich, spare my life! From this time I will never more come on shore and devour men, but will remain at the bottom of the lake.” Then said Yaroslav: “Give me the stone, and I will set you free.” So the monster went down into the lake, with Yaroslav sitting upon his back; and Yaroslav received the precious stone, and desired the Dragon to set him again on shore; but no sooner had he done so, than Yaroslav struck off the Dragon’s third head, and mounting his steed, rode off to the city of Dobri, where the Tsar Vorcholomei came out to meet him. When the Tsar heard his name, and the exploit he had performed, he was overjoyed; and all the people of the city came and bowed to the ground, and all the little children jumped about, and there was great rejoicing in the city of Dobri. The Tsar in his rapture gave a great feast, and invited all his princes and boyars and people of different ranks, with their wives and children. Then he took Yaroslav by the hand, and seated him by his side at table and said: “Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich, thy will shall rule over me and my whole kingdom; my treasures are open to thee—take gold and silver, and towns and villages; and if thou wilt marry, I will give thee my daughter, the Princess Anastasia, with one-half of my kingdom as her dowry.” Then Yaroslav, being merry and light-hearted, said: “Show me thy daughter, O Tsar Vorcholomei.” And the Tsar instantly ordered his daughter to appear before him, dressed in sumptuous attire, and she was more beautiful than any fancy could imagine. Then Vorcholomei took her by the hand and led her to Yaroslav. She reached to him a golden goblet of wine, and Yaroslav said: “Health to thee, dear Princess, the fairest in the wide world, long years of happiness to thee.” And he kissed her sugared lips. Then the Princess said to him: “Health to thee, too, my brave and dear knight!” Then Yaroslav went to the Tsar Vorcholomei, and said: “O Tsar, thy fair daughter pleases me, and I will take her to wife.” So Vorcholomei immediately commanded everything to be prepared for the wedding: and they all fell again to feasting and making merry.Early the next morning the Tsar commanded another feast to be made ready, and taking Yaroslav by the hand, said: “Brave knight Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich, I give thee in marriage my dear and beauteous daughter Anastasia: love her well and truly, and live in harmony with her. And, that I may witness your happy life, I bestow on thee as her dowry my whole kingdom: only guard it against enemies.” Then said the Tsar to his daughter: “Dear daughter, live with thy husband in peace and love, and honour him, for the husband is always the head over the wife.” Thereupon he ordered them to drive off to church and be married; and after the wedding they returned to the royal halls. Yaroslav took the bride by the hand and led her to the Tsar Vorcholomei, his father-in-law. All the princes and boyars, with their wives, brought to him costly presents; and the Tsar received them and said: “Long years of happiness to my lord Prince Yaroslav Lasarevich, my beloved son-in-law, and his wife, my daughter, the fair Princess Anastasia!” Then all the princes and boyars cried aloud with one voice: “Hail, Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich, with thy young bride the fair Princess!” and they bowed them to the ground. Then Yaroslav and the Princess Anastasia, with all the princes and boyars fell to eating and drinking and making merry.One day, as Yaroslav was conversing with Anastasia, he said: “My dear Tsarina, fairest princess in the world, I have gone through many kingdoms to behold thy beauty, and have heard of it far and wide from every maiden; and now, dear, tell me truly, is there any fairer princess than thou, or any braver knight than I?” Then the Princess replied: “My dear friend, there is no braver or handsomer knight in the world indeed than thou; but as for me—what is there fair and good in me? In the country of the Amazons, in the City of the Sun, there is a Tsarina Polikaria, who herself rules over the land; another such a beauty there is not in the wide world.”When Yaroslav Lasarevich heard this, he could think only of the beautiful Polikaria; and one morning he arose early, and said to his wife: “My dear Tsarina, I am going a journey to a certain city in a distant country; keep this precious stone which I took from the Dragon. Farewell! if I live, I will return to thee, but if death overtakes me, have a Mass said for me.” Thereat the Tsarina wept bitterly, and fell to the ground as if dead with grief. Then Yaroslav went to the Tsar Vorcholomei and said that he wished to pay a visit to his father, Prince Lasar, and took his leave.Yaroslav journeyed for nine months, until at last he came to the City of the Sun, and dismounted at the gates of the palace. When the Tsarevna Polikaria beheld a handsome knight in the courtyard, she was frightened at his appearance in the castle without her permission; and when he entered she said to him: “Brave knight, whence comest thou, and what dost thou seek in our kingdom?”He replied: “I am come from the kingdom of the Tsar Kartaus, the son of Prince Lasar and the Princess Epistimia, and my name is Yaroslav. I am come to pay my compliments to thee, and to behold thy unspeakable beauty.” At hearing this the Tsarevna Polikaria was rejoiced, took him by his white hands, led him into the royal halls, and said: “Sir Yaroslav Lasarevich, abide here and rule over my kingdom, and thy will shall be my will.” As Yaroslav gazed on her beauty he was troubled at heart, but he could not refuse her request, so he remained there and ruled over her kingdom.Meanwhile the Tsarina Anastasia had a brave little son; her father was greatly rejoiced, and gave him the name of Yaroslav. He had rosy cheeks, eyes like saucers, and a stout body: he was the image of his father, and the Tsar, in his joy, ordered a great feast to be prepared.When young Yaroslav reached his sixth year, he went to the Court of his grandfather the Tsar Vorcholomei, and the children laughed at him, crying: “Yaroslav, you have no father!” This angered him, and he began to beat them; and when he seized one by the head, his head dropped off, and when he seized a hand, the hand dropped off, and when he seized a foot, the foot dropped off; nevertheless, the princes and boyars dared not complain to the Tsar. Then little Yaroslav went to his mother and said: “Mother, tell me the truth—have I a father or no?” At this the Tsarina Anastasia sighed deeply, and replied with tears: “Thou hast a father, child—the brave knight Yaroslav Lasarevich; he is gone a long journey to the City of the Sun, in the country of the Amazons.”On hearing this, Yaroslav Yaroslavovich put on his armour to go in search of his father; and his mother gave him a golden ring with the precious stone. Then Yaroslav saddled his horse, took leave of his mother and grandfather, and rode forth to seek his father.One morning, at early dawn, he arrived at the city of the Sun. Now, at that time Yaroslav, his father, was in the camp; and when he heard the voice of a strange knight, he cried: “Who comes riding this way? I will go out and slay him.”With the swiftness of a falcon’s sweep, the two knights, father and son, rushed at each other, and Yaroslavovich struck his father with the butt-end of his lance, and well-nigh overthrew him. Then said Yaroslav, the father: “Young boy, go to! or I’ll punish thee!” So they made a second onset, and Yaroslav Lasarevich thrust the butt-end of his lance at his son and unsaddled him. And Yaroslav, the father, aimed at him the sharp point of his lance, and was about to kill him; but young Yaroslav seized the lance with his right hand, and the precious stone sparkled on his finger. Then Yaroslav Lasarevich exclaimed: “Whence comest thou, boy? Whose son art thou, and what is thy name?” And the son answered: “I come from the city of Dobri, in the kingdom of the Tsar Vorcholomei; my father is Yaroslav Lasarevich, and my mother is the Tsarina Anastasia. But I know not my father; and for this reason I am come hither in search of him. My name is Yaroslav.”On hearing this, his father leaped from his horse, raised his son, and pressed him to his heart. Then they mounted their steeds and rode to the city of Dobri, where they found all the people in lamentation, for the Tsar Vorcholomei was dead. But the people recognised the knights, and bowed before them and said: “Hail, our Lord Yaroslav Lasarevich with your noble son! Our Tsar has left the dominion of our kingdom to thee.” Then the Tsarevna Anastasia came forth from her palace, fell to the earth, and with tears exclaimed: “O my bright Sun, whence comest thou to warm and cheer us?” Then she took him by his white hands and led him into the royal apartments; and all the people, the princes and boyars, made their obeisance to Yaroslav, and brought him rich presents.Yaroslav mounted the throne with great pomp, took the sceptre, put on the purple robes, and set the golden crown upon his head. Then he called his son to him and said: “My dear child, take a war-horse, a suit of armour, a battle sword and lance, and ride forth. Sit firmly on thy horse, and be a brave knight, as I have been. Ride to the kingdom of Daniil the White, to the Tsar Kartaus, and thy grandfather Prince Lasar; then to my brother-in-arms, Ivan the Russian knight, who now rules in the kingdom of the Tsar Feodul the Dragon-King, and to the mighty knight, Raslanei, who rules in the kingdom of the Tsar Fireshield. Inquire after the health of them all, and return to me. Upon the journey be gentle and courteous, but brave.” So Yaroslav received his parent’s blessing, and set out on his travels.In five years he had journeyed and paid all these visits, and returned to his father. And on the way a little old man met him and stopped up the road; but he asked him: “Old man, why dost thou place thyself in my way, and wilt not let me pass?” And so saying, he was about to ride over him, but the little old man saw his intention and said to him: “Poor knight, wouldst thou kill a little old man? Thou canst get nothing from the old.” This did not please Yaroslav: he drew his sword to slay the man; but just as he was rushing at him the old man blew on him, and Yaroslav could not withstand even this mere breath of wind, and fell from his horse like a sheaf of corn. Then the old man took him by the arm and said: “Poor knight, wilt thou live or die?” Yaroslav was so terrified that he could not answer a word. Then the old man laid him on the ground and said: “No knight, no hero, above all, no man, can stand against me; but art thou not the son of the Tsar in the kingdom of Vorcholomei?” He answered that he was. Then said the old man: “Ride home, but say nothing of me in that kingdom.” And with that he vanished.Yaroslav went to seek his father and mother, and they came to meet him, and the princes and boyars threw themselves with their faces to the ground before him. Then his father took him by his white hands, kissed him on his sugared lips, led him into the royal halls, seated him at the oaken tables spread with fine cloths, and gave a great feast. And the elder Yaroslav began to question his son, and said: “Thou hast travelled to thy grandfather Prince Lasar, tell me about him and how he is.”Then Yaroslav delivered the following letter from the Tsar Kartaus to his father:—“The Tsar Kartaus sends hearty greetings to the great Tsar and powerful knight Yaroslav Lasarevich! Health to thee and thy lady wife, Anastasia Vorcholomeievna, and to thy son, Yaroslav Yaroslavovich, and to thy princes and boyars and all thy subjects! I continue to rule happily in my kingdom!” Upon the same paper was written by Prince Lasar to his son: “To my dear son Yaroslav Lasarevich, and my dear daughter-in-law, Anastasia Vorcholomeievna, my grandson, Yaroslav Yaroslavovich, and thy whole kingdom, peace and blessing! Rule and govern happily, and mayest thou be prosperous for many long years!”Yaroslav Lasarevich was greatly rejoiced, and said to his son: “Hast thou been to visit my brother-in-law, Prince Ivan the Russian Knight?” And young Yaroslav gave a letter likewise from him to his father, in which was written as follows:—“To the mighty Tsar of Tsars, and Knight of Knights, my elder brother Yaroslav Lasarevich, hearty greetings! Hail to thee, and happiness for many years, with thy lady wife, Anastasia Vorcholomeievna, and thy son, the valiant knight Yaroslav, and thy whole empire! Sire, when thy son entered my kingdom, I was returning from battle; I knew not thy son, and imagined he was a knight come to subdue my kingdom. I attacked him, and was about to cut off his head with my battle sword; but he seized his long lance, and with the butt-end thrust so boldly at my heart that I could hardly keep my seat in my saddle; then said he: ‘I am the son of Yaroslav Lasarevich.’ When I heard these words I pardoned him; but the wound he gave me is not yet healed.”Then Yaroslav delivered to his father another letter, from the knight, Sir Raslanei, which ran as follows: “I, the great Tsar Raslanei Prochorovich, to my younger brother, the great Tsar and powerful knight, Yaroslav Lasarevich, send hearty greetings! And, with this greeting, health and happiness to thee also, O Tsar, with thy fair lady wife, Anastasia Vorcholomeievna, and thy son the brave knight Yaroslav Yaroslavovich! Thy son has cleft my head and has pierced me through with the butt-end of his lance, and my wounds remain still unhealed; but I heard that he was thy son, and have pardoned him, and sent him back to thee uninjured.”Then Yaroslav related to his father everything in order; and soon the feast was prepared, and they all made merry, and were in great joy at Yaroslav’s return. Then began Yaroslav Lasarevich to praise the bravery of his son, and to tell how he had overthrown Tsars and powerful knights; whereat all the princes and boyars marvelled at his bravery, and declared there were no other such knights in the world as these, father and son, and that no one could stand against them.Yaroslav Lasarevich subdued many cities to his dominion; and many others, when they heard of his bravery, surrendered voluntarily to his power. And he sat upon the throne in good health for twenty years, and his age was forty-and-nine years and three months when he died. His wife, Anastasia Vorcholomeievna, wept and was inconsolable for the loss of her husband, and she also soon died of grief. And her son Yaroslav wept for his father, the mighty knight Yaroslav Lasarevich, and long too wept for his mother. Soon after he mounted the throne of his father, and ruled with renown and glory.
A long time ago the Blackfeet were camped on Backfat Creek. There was in the camp a man who had but one wife, and he thought a great deal of her. He never wanted to have two wives. As time passed they had a child, a little girl. Along toward the end of the summer, this man’s wife wanted to get some berries, and she asked her husband to take her to a certain place where berries grew, so that she could get some. The man said to his wife: “At this time of the year, I do not like to go to that place to pick berries. There are always Snake or Crow war parties travelling about there.” The woman wanted very much to go, and she coaxed her husband about it a great deal; and at last he said he would go, and they started, and many women followed them.When they came to where the berries grew, the man said to his wife: “There are the berries down in that ravine. You may go down there and pick them, and I will go up on this hill and stand guard. If I see any one coming, I will call out to you, and you must all get on your horses and run.” So the women went down to pick berries.The man went up on the hill and sat down and looked over the country. After a little time, he looked down into another ravine not far off, and saw that it was full of horsemen coming. They started to gallop up towards him, and he called out in a loud voice, “Run, run, the enemy is rushing on us.” The women started to run, and he jumped on his horse and followed them. The enemy rushed after them, and he drew his bow and arrows, and got ready to fight and defend the women. After they had gone a little way, the enemy had gained so much that they were shooting at the Blackfeet with their arrows, and the man was riding back and forth behind the women, and whipping up the horses, now of one, now of another, to make them go faster. The enemy kept getting closer, and at last they were so near that they were beginning to thrust at him with their lances, and he was dodging them and throwing himself down, now on one side of his horse, and then on the other.At length he found that he could no longer defend all the women, so he made up his mind to leave those that had the slowest horses to the mercy of the enemy, while he would go on with those that had the faster ones. When he found that he must leave the women, he was excited and rode on ahead; but as he passed, he heard some one call out to him, “Don’t leave me,” and he looked to one side, and saw that he was leaving his wife. When he heard his wife call out thus to him, he said to her: “There is no life for me here. You are a fine-looking woman. They will not kill you, but there is no life for me.” She answered: “No, take pity on me. Do not leave me. My horse is giving out. Let us both get on one horse and then, if we are caught, we will die together.” When he heard this, his heart was touched and he said: “No, wife, I will not leave you. Run up beside my horse and jump on behind me.” The enemy were now so near that they had killed or captured some of the women, and they had come up close enough to the man so that they got ready to hit at him with their war clubs. His horse was now wounded in places with arrows, but it was a good, strong, fast horse.His wife rode up close to him, and jumped on his horse behind him. When he started to run with her, the enemy had come up on either side of him, and some were behind him, but they were afraid to shoot their arrows for fear of hitting their own people, so they struck at the man with their war clubs. But they did not want to kill the woman, and they did not hurt him. They reached out with their hands to try to pull the woman off the horse; but she had put her arms around her husband and held on tight, and they could not get her off, but they tore her clothing off her. As she held her husband, he could not use his arrows, and could not fight to defend himself. His horse was now going very slowly, and all the enemy had caught up to them, and were all around them.The man said to his wife: “Never mind, let them take you: they will not kill you. You are too handsome a woman for them to kill you.” His wife said, “No, it is no harm for us both to die together.” When he saw that his wife would not get off the horse and that he could not fight, he said to her: “Here, look out! You are crowding me on to the neck of the horse. Sit further back.” He began to edge himself back, and at last, when he got his wife pretty far back on the horse, he gave a great push and shoved her off behind. When she fell off, his horse had more speed and began to run away from the enemy, and he would shoot back his arrows; and now, when they would ride up to strike him with their hatchets, he would shoot them and kill them, and they began to be afraid of him, and to edge away from him. His horse was very long-winded; and now, as he was drawing away from the enemy, there were only two who were yet able to keep up with him. The rest were being left behind, and they stopped, and went back to where the others had killed or captured the women; and now only two men were pursuing.After a little while, the Blackfoot jumped off his horse to fight on foot, and the two enemies rode up on either side of him, but a long way off, and jumped off their horses. When he saw the two on either side of him, he took a sheaf of arrows in his hand and began to rush, first toward the one on the right, and then toward the one on the left. As he did this, he saw that one of the men, when he ran toward him and threatened to shoot, would draw away from him, while the other would stand still. Then he knew that one of them was a coward and the other a brave man. But all the time they were closing in on him. When he saw that they were closing in on him, he made a rush at the brave man. This one was shooting arrows all the time; but the Blackfoot did not shoot until he got close to him, and then he shot an arrow into him and ran up to him and hit him with his stone axe and killed him. Then he turned to the cowardly one and ran at him. The man turned to run, but the Blackfoot caught him and hit him with his axe and killed him.After he had killed them, he scalped them and took their arrows, their horses, and the stone knives that they had. Then he went home, and when he rode into the camp he was crying over the loss of his wife. When he came to his lodge and got off his horse, his friends went up to him and asked what was the matter. He told them how all the women had been killed, and how he had been pursued by two enemies, and had fought with them and killed them both, and he showed them the arrows and the horses and the scalps. He told the women’s relations that they had all been killed; and all were in great sorrow, and crying over the loss of their friends.The next morning they held a council, and it was decided that a party should go out and see where the battle had been, and find out what had become of the women. When they got to the place, they found all the women there dead, except this man’s wife. Her they could not find. They also found the two Indians that the man had said that he had killed, and, besides, many others that he had killed when he was running away.When he got back to the camp, this Blackfoot picked up his child and put it on his back, and walked round the camp mourning and crying, and the child crying, for four days and four nights, until he was exhausted and worn out, and then he fell asleep. When the rest of the people saw him walking about mourning, and that he would not eat nor drink, their hearts were very sore, and they felt very sorry for him and for the child, for he was a man greatly thought of by the people.While he lay there asleep, the chief of the camp came to him and woke him, and said: “Well, friend, what have you decided on? What is your mind? What are you going to do?” The man answered: “My child is lonely. It will not eat. It is crying for its mother. It will not notice any one. I am going to look for my wife.” The chief said, “I cannot say anything.” He went about to all the lodges and told the people that this man was going away to seek his wife.Now there was in the camp a strong medicine man, who was not married and would not marry at all. He had said, “When I had my dream, it told me that I must never have a wife.” The man who had lost his wife had a very beautiful sister, who had never married. She was very proud and very handsome. Many men had wanted to marry her, but she would not have anything to do with any man. The medicine man secretly loved this handsome girl, the sister of the poor man. When he heard of this poor man’s misfortune, the medicine man was in great sorrow, and cried over it. He sent word to the poor man, saying: “Go and tell this man that I have promised never to take a wife, but that if he will give me his beautiful sister, he need not go to look for his wife. I will send my secret helper in search of her.”When the young girl heard what this medicine man had said, she sent word to him, saying, “Yes, if you bring my brother’s wife home, and I see her sitting here by his side, I will marry you, but not before.” But she did not mean what she said. She intended to deceive him in some way, and not to marry him at all. When the girl sent this message to him, the medicine man sent for her and her brother to come to his lodge. When they had come, he spoke to the poor man and said, “If I bring your wife here, are you willing to give me your sister for my wife?” The poor man answered, “Yes.” But the young girl kept quiet in his presence, and had nothing to say. Then the medicine man said to them: “Go. To-night in the middle of the night you will hear me sing.” He sent everybody out of his lodge, and said to the people: “I will close the door of my lodge, and I do not want any one to come in to-night, nor to look through the door. A spirit will come to me to-night.” He made the people know, by a sign put out before the door of his lodge, that no one must enter it, until such time as he was through making his medicine. Then he built a fire, and began to get out all his medicine. He unwrapped his bundle and took out his pipe and his rattles and his other things. After a time, the fire burned down until it was only coals and his lodge was dark, and on the fire he threw sweet-scented herbs, sweet grass, and sweet pine, so as to draw his dream-helper to him.Now in the middle of the night he was in the lodge singing, when suddenly the people heard a strange voice in the lodge say: “Well, my chief, I have come. What is it?” The medicine man said, “I want you to help me.” The voice said, “Yes, I know it, and I know what you want me to do.” The medicine man asked, “What is it?” The voice said, “You want me to go and get a woman.” The medicine man answered: “That is what I want. I want you to go and get a woman—the lost woman.” The voice said to him, “Did I not tell you never to call me, unless you were in great need of my help?” The medicine man answered, “Yes, but that girl that was never going to be married is going to be given to me through your help.” Then the voice said, “Oh!” and it was silent for a little while. Then it went on and said: “Well, we have a good feeling for you, and you have been a long time not married; so we will help you to get that girl, and you will have her. Yes, we have great pity on you. We will go and look for this woman, and will try to find her, but I cannot promise you that we will bring her; but we will try. We will go, and in four nights I will be back here again at this same time, and I think that I can bring the woman; but I will not promise. While I am gone, I will let you know how I get on. Now I am going away.” And then the people heard in the lodge a sound like a strong wind, and nothing more. He was gone.Some people went and told the sister what the medicine man and the voice had been saying, and the girl was very down-hearted, and cried over the idea that she must be married, and that she had been forced into it in this way.When the dream person went away, he came late at night to the camp of the Snakes, the enemy. The woman who had been captured was always crying over the loss of her man and her child. She had another husband now. The man who had captured her had taken her for his wife. As she was lying there, in her husband’s lodge, crying for sorrow for her loss, the dream person came to her. Her husband was asleep. The dream-helper touched her and pushed her a little, and she looked up and saw a person standing by her side; but she did not know who it was. The person whispered in her ear, “Get up, I want to take you home.” She began to edge away from her husband, and at length got up, and all the time the person was moving toward the door. She followed him out, and saw him walk away from the lodge, and she went after. The person kept ahead, and the woman followed him, and they went away, travelling very fast. After they had travelled some distance, she called out to the dream person to stop, for she was getting tired. Then the person stopped, and when he saw the woman sitting, he would sit down, but he would not talk to her.As they travelled on, the woman, when she got tired, would sit down, and because she was very tired, she would fall asleep; and when she awoke and looked up, she always saw the person walking away from her, and she would get up and follow him. When day came, the shape would be far ahead of her, but at night it would keep closer. When she spoke to this person, the woman would call him “young man.” At one time she said to him, “Young man, my moccasins are all worn out, and my feet are getting very sore, and I am very tired and hungry.” When she had said this, she sat down and fell asleep, and as she was falling asleep, she saw the person going away from her. He went back to the lodge of the medicine man.During this night the camp heard the medicine man singing his song, and they knew that the dream person must be back again, or that his chief must be calling him. The medicine man had unwrapped his bundle, and had taken out all his things, and again had a fire of coals, on which he burned sweet pine and sweet grass. Those who were listening heard a voice say: “Well, my chief, I am back again, and I am here to tell you something. I am bringing the woman you sent me after. She is very hungry and has no moccasins. Get me those things, and I will take them back to her.” The medicine man went out of the lodge, and called to the poor man, who was mourning for his wife, that he wanted to see him. The man came, carrying the child on his back, to hear what the medicine man had to say. He said to him: “Get some moccasins and something to eat for your wife. I want to send them to her. She is coming.” The poor man went to his sister, and told her to give him some moccasins and some pemmican. She made a bundle of these things, and the man took them to the medicine man, who gave them to the dream person; and again he disappeared out of the lodge like a wind.When the woman awoke in the morning and started to get up, she hit her face against a bundle lying by her, and when she opened it, she found in it moccasins and some pemmican; and she put on the moccasins and ate, and while she was putting on the moccasins and eating, she looked over to where she had last seen the person, and he was sitting there with his back toward her. She could never see his face. When she had finished eating, he got up and went on, and she rose and followed. They went on, and the woman thought, “Now I have travelled two days and two nights with this young man, and I wonder what kind of a man he is. He seems to take no notice of me.” So she made up her mind to walk fast and to try to overtake him, and see what sort of a man he was. She started to do so, but however fast she walked, it made no difference. She could not overtake him. Whether she walked fast, or whether she walked slow, he was always the same distance from her. They travelled on until night, and then she lay down again and fell asleep. She dreamed that the young man had left her again.The dream person had really left her, and had gone back to the medicine man’s lodge, and said to him: “Well, my chief, I am back again. I am bringing the woman. You must tell this poor man to get on his horse, and ride back toward Milk River (the Teton). Let him go in among the high hills on this side of the Muddy, and let him wait there until daylight, and look toward the hills of Milk River; and after the sun is up a little way, he will see a band of antelope running toward him, along the trail that the Blackfeet travel. It will be his wife who has frightened these antelope. Let him wait there for a while, and he will see a person coming. This will be his wife. Then let him go to meet her, for she has no moccasins. She will be glad to see him, for she is crying all the time.”The medicine man told the poor man this, and he got on his horse and started, as he had been told. He could not believe that it was true. But he went. At last he got to the place, and a little while after the sun had risen, as he was lying on a hill looking toward the hills of the Milk River, he saw a band of antelope running toward him, as he had been told he would see. He lay there for a long time, but saw nothing else come in sight; and finally he got angry and thought that what had been told him was a lie, and he got up to mount his horse and ride back. Just then he saw, away down, far off on the prairie, a small black speck, but he did not think it was moving, it was so far off,—barely to be seen. He thought maybe it was a rock. He lay down again and took sight on the speck by a straw of grass in front of him, and looked for a long time, and after a while he saw the speck pass the straw, and then he knew it was something. He got on his horse and started to ride up and find out what it was, riding way around it, through the hills and ravines, so that he would not be seen. He rode up in a ravine behind it, pretty near to it, and then he could see it was a person on foot. He got out his bow and arrows and held them ready to use, and then started to ride up to it. He rode toward the person, and at last he got near enough to see that it was his wife. When he saw this, he could not help crying; and as he rode up, the woman looked back, and knew first the horse, and then her husband, and she was so glad that she fell down and knew nothing.After she had come to herself and they had talked together, they got on the horse and rode off toward camp. When he came over the hill in sight of camp, all the people began to say, “Here comes the man”; and at last they could see from a distance that he had some one on the horse behind him, and they knew that it must be his wife, and they were glad to see him bringing her back, for he was a man thought a great deal of, and everybody liked him and liked his wife and the way he was kind to her.Then the handsome girl was given to the medicine man and became his wife.
My grandfather, Andrew Coffey, was known to the whole barony as a quiet, decent man. And if the whole barony knew him, he knew the whole barony, every inch, hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert. Fancy his surprise one evening, when he found himself in a part of the demesne he couldn’t recognise a bit. He and his good horse were always stumbling up against some tree or stumbling down into some bog-hole that by rights didn’t ought to be there. On the top of all this the rain came pelting down wherever there was a clearing, and the cold March wind tore through the trees. Glad he was then when he saw a light in the distance, and drawing near found a cabin, though for the life of him he couldn’t think how it came there. However, in he walked, after tying up his horse, and right welcome was the brushwood fire blazing on the hearth. And there stood a chair right and tight, that seemed to say, “Come, sit down in me.” There wasn’t a soul else in the room. Well, he did sit, and got a little warm and cheered after his drenching. But all the while he was wondering and wondering.“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!”Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Look around as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature with two legs or four, for his horse was gone.“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! tell me a story.”It was louder this time, and it was nearer. And then what a thing to ask for! It was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dry oneself, without being bothered for a story.“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!! Tell me a story, or it’ll be the worse for you.”My poor grandfather was so dumbfounded that he could only stand and stare.“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! I told you it’d be the worse for you.”And with that, out there bounced, from a cupboard that Andrew Coffey had never noticed before, a man. And the man was in a towering rage. But it wasn’t that. And he carried as fine a blackthorn as you’d wish to crack a man’s head with. But it wasn’t that either. But when my grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knew him for Patrick Rooney, and all the world knew he’d gone overboard, fishing one night long years before.Andrew Coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heels and was out of the house as hard as he could. He ran and he ran taking little thought of what was before till at last he ran up against a big tree. And then he sat down to rest.He hadn’t sat for a moment when he heard voices.“It’s heavy he is, the vagabond.” “Steady now, we’ll rest when we get under the big tree yonder.” Now that happened to be the tree under which Andrew Coffey was sitting. At least he thought so, for seeing a branch handy he swung himself up by it and was soon snugly hidden away. Better see than be seen, thought he.The rain had stopped and the wind fallen. The night was blacker than ever, but Andrew Coffey could see four men, and they were carrying between them a long box. Under the tree they came, set the box down, opened it, and who should they bring out but—Patrick Rooney. Never a word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow.Well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint, and soon they had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could see Patrick plainly enough. If he had kept still before, he kept stiller now. Soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over the fire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slung Patrick Rooney.“He’ll do well enough,” said one; “but who’s to mind him whilst we’re away, who’ll turn the fire, who’ll see that he doesn’t burn?”With that Patrick opened his lips: “Andrew Coffey,” said he.“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!”“I’m much obliged to you, gentlemen,” said Andrew Coffey, “but indeed I know nothing about the business.”“You’d better come down, Andrew Coffey,” said Patrick.It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would come down. The four men went off and he was left all alone with Patrick.Then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning, and all the while Patrick looked at him.Poor Andrew Coffey couldn’t make it all out at all, at all, and he stared at Patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the little house in the wood, till he felt quite dazed.“Ah, but it’s burning me ye are!” says Patrick, very short and sharp.“I’m sure I beg your pardon,” said my grandfather “but might I ask you a question?”“If you want a crooked answer,” said Patrick; “turn away or it’ll be the worse for you.”But my grandfather couldn’t get it out of his head; hadn’t everybody, far and near, said Patrick had fallen overboard. There was enough to think about, and my grandfather did think.“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! IT’S BURNING ME YE ARE.”Sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn’t do so again.“You’d better not,” said Patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down Andrew Coffey’s back. Well it was odd, that here he should be in a thick wood he had never set eyes upon, turning Patrick Rooney upon a spit. You can’t wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and not minding the fire.“ANDREW COFFEY, ANDREW COFFEY, IT’S THE DEATH OF YOU I’LL BE.”And with that what did my grandfather see, but Patrick unslinging himself from the spit and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened.It was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he ran into the night of the wood. It seemed to him there wasn’t a stone but was for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not a bramble but tore his skin. And wherever it was clear the rain pelted down and the cold March wind howled along.Glad he was to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling, dazed, drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. The brushwood flamed, and the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began to feel a little warm and dry and easy in his mind.“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!”It’s hard for a man to jump when he has been through all my grandfather had, but jump he did. And when he looked around, where should he find himself but in the very cabin he had first met Patrick in.“Andrew Coffey, Andrew Coffey, tell me a story.”“Is it a story you want?” said my grandfather as bold as may be, for he was just tired of being frightened. “Well if you can tell me the rights of this one, I’ll be thankful.”And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that night. The tale was long, and may be Andrew Coffey was weary. It’s asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on the hill-side under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side.
A man, of small stature, found himself standing alone on a prairie. He thought to himself, “How came I here? Are there no beings on this earth but myself? I must travel and see. I must walk till I find the abodes of men.”So soon as his mind was made up, he set out, he knew not whither, in search of habitations. He was a resolute little fellow, and no difficulties could turn him from his purpose: neither prairies, rivers, woods nor storms, had the effect to daunt his courage or turn him back. After traveling a long time, he came to a wood, in which he saw decayed stumps of trees, as if they had been cut in ancient times, but no other trace of men. Pursuing his journey, he found more recent marks of the same kind; after this, he came upon fresh traces of human beings; first their footsteps, and then the wood they had felled, lying in heaps. Pushing on, he emerged toward dusk from the forest, and beheld at a distance a large village of high lodges standing on rising ground.“I am tired of this dog-trot,” he said to himself. “I will arrive there on a run.”He started off with all his speed. On coming to the first lodge, without any especial exertion, he jumped over it, and found himself standing by the door on the other side. Those within saw something pass over the opening in the roof; they thought from the shadow it cast that it must have been some huge bird—and then they heard a thump upon the ground. “What is that?” they all said and several ran out to see.They invited him in, and he found himself in company with an old chief and several men who were seated in the lodge. Meat was set before him; after which the old chief asked him whither he was going, and what was his name. He answered that he was in search of adventures, and that his name was “Grasshopper.”They all opened their eyes upon the stranger with a broad stare.“Grasshopper!” whispered one to another; and a general titter went round.They invited him to stay with them, which he was inclined to do; for it was a pleasant village, but so small as to constantly embarrass Grasshopper. He was in perpetual trouble; whenever he shook hands with a stranger, to whom he might be introduced, such was the abundance of his strength, without meaning it, he wrung his arm off at the shoulder. Once or twice, in mere sport, he cuffed the boys, about the lodge, by the side of the head, and they flew out of sight as though they had been shot from a bow; nor could they ever be found again, though they were searched for in all the country round, far and wide. If Grasshopper proposed to himself a short stroll in the morning, he was at once miles out of town. When he entered a lodge, if he happened for a moment to forget himself, he walked straight through the leathern, or wooden, or earthen walls, as if he had been merely passing through a bush. At his meals he broke in pieces all the dishes, set them down as lightly as he would; and putting a leg out of bed when he rose, it was a common thing for him to push off the top of the lodge.He wanted more elbow-room; and after a short stay, in which, by the accidentally letting go of his strength, he had nearly laid waste the whole place, and filled it with demolished lodges and broken pottery, and one-armed men, he made up his mind to go further, taking with him a young man who had formed a strong attachment for him, and who might serve him as his pipe-bearer; for Grasshopper was a huge smoker, and vast clouds followed him wherever he went; so that people could say, “Grasshopper is coming!” by the mighty smoke he raised.They set out together, and when his companion was fatigued with walking, Grasshopper would put him forward on his journey a mile or two by giving him a cast in the air, and lighting him in a soft place among the trees, or in a cool spot in a water-pond, among the sedges and water-lilies. At other times he would lighten the way by showing off a few tricks, such as leaping over trees, and turning round on one leg till he made the dust fly; at which the pipe-bearer was mightily pleased, although it sometimes happened that the character of these gambols frightened him. For Grasshopper would, without the least hint of such an intention, jump into the air far ahead, and it would cost the little pipe-bearer half a day’s hard travel to come up with him; and then the dust Grasshopper raised was often so thick and heavy as to completely bury the poor little pipe-bearer, and compel Grasshopper to dig diligently and with might and main to get him out alive.One day they came to a very large village, where they were well received. After staying in it some time (in the course of which Grasshopper, in a fit of abstraction, walked straight through the sides of three lodges without stopping to look for the door), they were informed of a number of wicked spirits, who lived at a distance, and who made it a practice to kill all who came to their lodge. Attempts had been made to destroy them, but they had always proved more than a match for such as had come out against them.Grasshopper determined to pay them a visit, although he was strongly advised not to do so. The chief of the village warned him of the great danger he would incur, but finding Grasshopper resolved, he said:“Well, if you will go, being my guest, I will send twenty warriors to serve you.”Grasshopper thanked him for the offer, although he suggested that he thought he could get along without them, at which the little pipe-bearer grinned, for his master had never shown in that village what he could do, and the chief thought that Grasshopper, being little himself, would be likely to need twenty warriors, at the least, to encounter the wicked spirits with any chance of success. Twenty young men made their appearance. They set forward, and after about a day’s journey they descried the lodge of the Manitoes.Grasshopper placed his friend, the pipe-bearer, and the warriors, near enough to see all that passed, while he went alone to the lodge.As he entered, Grasshopper saw five horrid-looking Manitoes in the act of eating. It was the father and his four sons. They were really hideous to look upon. Their eyes were swimming low in their heads, and they glared about as if they were half starved. They offered Grasshopper something to eat, which he politely refused, for he had a strong suspicion that it was the thigh-bone of a man.“What have you come for?” said the old one.“Nothing,” answered Grasshopper; “where is your uncle?”They all stared at him, and answered:“We ate him, yesterday. What do you want?”“Nothing,” said Grasshopper; “where is your grandfather?”They all answered, with another broad stare:“We ate him a week ago. Do you not wish to wrestle?”“Yes,” replied Grasshopper, “I don’t mind if I do take a turn; but you must be easy with me, for you see I am very little.”Pipe-bearer, who stood near enough to overhear the conversation, grinned from ear to ear when he caught this remark. The Manitoes answered:“Oh yes, we will be easy with you.”And as they said this they looked at each other, and rolled their eyes about in a dreadful manner. A hideous smile came over their faces as they whispered among themselves:“It’s a pity he’s so thin. You go,” they said to the eldest brother.The two got ready—the Manito and Grasshopper—and they were soon clinched in each other’s arms for a deadly throw. Grasshopper knew their object—his death; they wanted a taste of his delicate little body, and he was determined they should have it, perhaps in a different sense from that they intended.“Haw! haw!” they cried, and soon the dust and dry leaves flew about as if driven by a strong wind. The Manito was strong, but Grasshopper thought he could master him; and all at once giving him a sly trip, as the wicked spirit was trying to finish his breakfast with a piece out of his shoulder, he sent the Manito head-foremost against a stone; and, calling aloud to the three others, he bade them come and take the body away.The brothers now stepped forth in quick succession, but Grasshopper having got his blood up, and limbered himself by exercise, soon dispatched the three—sending one this way, another that, and the third straight up into the air, so high that he never came down again.It was time for the old Manito to be frightened, and dreadfully frightened he got, and ran for his life, which was the very worst thing he could have done; for Grasshopper, of all his gifts of strength, was most noted for his speed of foot. The old Manito set off, and for mere sport’s sake, Grasshopper pursued him. Sometimes he was before the wicked old spirit, sometimes he was flying over his head, and then he would keep along at a steady trot just at his heels, till he had blown all the breath out of the old knave’s body.Meantime his friend, the pipe-bearer, and the twenty young warriors, cried out:“Ha, ha, ah! ha, ha, ah! Grasshopper is driving him before him!”The Manito only turned his head now and then to look back. At length, when he was tired of the sport, to be rid of him, Grasshopper, with a gentle application of his foot, sent the wicked old Manito whirling away through the air, in which he made a great number of the most curious turn-overs in the world, till he came to alight, when it so happened that he fell astride of an old bull-buffalo, grazing in a distant pasture, who straightway set off with him at a long gallop, and the old Manito has not been heard of to this day.The warriors and the pipe-bearer and Grasshopper set to work and burned down the lodge of the wicked spirits, and then when they came to look about, they saw that the ground was strewn on all sides with human bones bleaching in the sun; these were the unhappy victims of the Manitoes. Grasshopper then took three arrows from his girdle, and after having performed a ceremony to the Great Spirit, he shot one into the air, crying, “You are lying down; rise up, or you will be hit!”The bones all moved to one place. He shot the second arrow, repeating the same words, when each bone drew toward its fellow-bone; the third arrow brought forth to life the whole multitude of people who had been killed by the Manitoes. Grasshopper conducted the crowd to the chief of the village, who had proved his friend, and gave them into his hands. The chief was there with his counselors, to whom he spoke apart.“Who is more worthy,” said the chief to Grasshopper, “to rule than you. You alone can defend them.”Grasshopper thanked him, and told him that he was in search of more adventures. “I have done some things,” said little Grasshopper, rather boastfully, “and I think I can do some more.”The chief still urged him, but he was eager to go, and naming pipe-bearer to tarry and take his place, he set out again on his travels, promising that he would some time or other come back and see them.“Ho! ho! ho!” they all cried. “Come back again and see us!” He renewed his promise that he would; and then set out alone.After traveling some time he came to a great lake, and on looking about he discovered a very large otter on an island. He thought to himself, “His skin will make me a fine pouch.” And he immediately drew up at long shots, and drove an arrow into his side. He waded into the lake, and with some difficulty dragged him ashore, and up a hill overlooking the lake.As soon as Grasshopper got the otter into the sunshine where it was warm, he skinned him, and threw the carcass some distance off, thinking the war-eagle would come, and that he should have a chance to secure his feathers as ornaments for the head; for Grasshopper began to be proud, and was disposed to display himself.He soon heard a rushing noise as of a loud wind, but could see nothing. Presently a large eagle dropped, as if from the air, upon the otter’s carcass. Grasshopper drew his bow, and the arrow passed through under both of his wings. The bird made a convulsive flight upward, with such force that the cumbrous body was borne up several feet from the ground; but with its claws deeply fixed, the heavy otter brought the eagle back to the earth. Grasshopper possessed himself of a handful of the prime feathers, crowned his head with the trophy, and set off in high spirits on the look out for something new.After walking awhile, he came to a body of water which flooded the trees on its banks—it was a lake made by beavers. Taking his station on the raised dam where the stream escaped, he watched to see whether any of the beavers would show themselves. A head presently peeped out of the water to see who it was that disturbed them.“My friend,” said Grasshopper, in his most persuasive manner, “could you not oblige me by turning me into a beaver like yourself. Nothing would please me so much as to make your acquaintance, I can assure you;” for Grasshopper was curious to know how these watery creatures lived, and what kind of notions they had.“I do not know,” replied the beaver, who was rather short-nosed and surly. “I will go and ask the others. Meanwhile stay where you are, if you please.”“To be sure,” answered Grasshopper, stealing down the bank several paces as soon as the beaver’s back was turned.Presently there was a great splashing of the water, and all the beavers showed their heads, and looked warily to where he stood, to see if he was armed; but he had knowingly left his bow and arrows in a hollow tree at a short distance.After a long conversation, which they conducted in a whisper so that Grasshopper could not catch a word, strain his ears as he would, they all advanced in a body toward the spot where he stood; the chief approaching the nearest, and lifting his head highest out of the water.“Can you not,” said Grasshopper, noticing that they waited for him to speak first, “turn me into a beaver? I wish to live among you.”“Yes,” answered their chief; “lie down.” And Grasshopper in a moment found himself a beaver, and was gliding into the water, when a thought seemed to strike him, and he paused at the edge of the lake. “I am very small,” he said, to the beaver, in a sorrowful tone. “You must make me large,” he said; for Grasshopper was terribly ambitious, and wanted always to be the first person in every company. “Larger than any of you; in my present size it’s hardly worth my while to go into the water.”“Yes, yes!” said they. “By and by, when we get into the lodge it shall be done.”They all dived into the lake, and in passing great heaps of limbs and logs at the bottom, he asked the use of them; they answered, “It is for our winter’s provisions.”When they all got into the lodge their number was about one hundred. The lodge was large and warm.“Now we will make you large,” said they. “Will that do?”“Yes,” he answered; for he found that he was ten times the size of the largest.“You need not go out,” said the others; “we will bring you food into the lodge, and you will be our chief.”“Very well,” Grasshopper answered. He thought, “I will stay here and grow fat at their expense.” But, soon after, one ran into the lodge, out of breath, crying out, “We are visited by the Indians!”All huddled together in great fear. The water began to lower, for the hunters had broken down the dam, and they soon heard them on the roof of the lodge, breaking it up. Out jumped all the beavers into the water, and so escaped.Grasshopper tried to follow them; but, unfortunately, to gratify his ambition, they had made him so large that he could not creep out at the hole. He tried to call them back, but either they did not hear or would not attend to him; he worried himself so much in searching for a door to let him out, that he looked like a great bladder, swollen and blistering in the sun, and the sweat stood out upon his forehead in knobs and huge bubbles.Although he heard and understood every word that the hunters spoke—and some of their expressions suggested terrible ideas—he could not turn himself back into a man. He had chosen to be a beaver, and a beaver he must be. One of the hunters, a prying little man, with a single lock dangling over one eye—this inquisitive little fellow put his head in at the top of the lodge. “Ty-au!” cried he. “Tut ty-au! Me-shau-mik—king of beavers is in.” Whereupon the whole crowd of hunters began upon him with their clubs, and knocked his scull about until it was no harder than a morass in the middle of summer. Grasshopper thought as well as ever he did, although he was a beaver; and he felt that he was in a rather foolish scrape, inhabiting the carcass of a beaver.Presently seven or eight of the hunters hoisted his body upon long poles, and marched away home with him. As they went, he reflected in this manner: “What will become of me? My ghost or shadow will not die after they get me to their lodges.”Invitations were immediately sent out for a grand feast; but as soon as his body got cold, his soul being uncomfortable in a house without heat, flew off.Having reassumed his mortal shape, Grasshopper found himself standing near a prairie. After walking a distance, he saw a herd of elk feeding. He admired their apparent ease and enjoyment of life, and thought there could be nothing more pleasant than the liberty of running about and feeding on the prairies. He had been a water animal and now he wished to become a land animal, to learn what passed in an elk’s head as he roved about. He asked them if they could not turn him into one of themselves.“Yes,” they answered, after a pause. “Get down on your hands and feet.”He obeyed their directions, and forthwith found himself to be an elk.“I want big horns, big feet,” said he; “I wish to be very large;” for all the conceit and vain-glory had not been knocked out of Grasshopper, even by the sturdy thwacks of the hunters’ clubs.“Yes, yes,” they answered. “There,” exerting their power, “are you big enough?”“That will do,” he replied; for, looking into a lake hard by, Grasshopper saw that he was very large. They spent their time in grazing and running to and fro; but what astonished Grasshopper, although he often lifted up his head and directed his eyes that way, he could never see the stars, which he had so admired as a human being.Being rather cold, one day, Grasshopper went into a thick wood for shelter, whither he was followed by most of the herd. They had not been long there when some elks from behind passed the others like a strong wind, calling out:“The hunters are after us!”All took the alarm, and off they ran, Grasshopper with the rest.“Keep out on the plains,” they said. But it was too late to profit by this advice, for they had already got entangled in the thick woods. Grasshopper soon scented the hunters, who were closely following his trail for they had left all the others and were making after him in full cry. He jumped furiously, dashed through the underwood, and broke down whole groves of saplings in his flight. But this only made it the harder for him to get on, such a huge and lusty elk was he by his own request.Presently, as he dashed past an open space, he felt an arrow in his side. They could not well miss it, he presented so wide a mark to the shot. He bounded over trees under the smart, but the shafts clattered thicker and thicker at his ribs, and at last one entered his heart. He fell to the ground, and heard the whoop of triumph sounded by the hunters. On coming up, they looked on the carcass with astonishment, and with their hands up to their mouths, exclaimed: “Ty-au! ty-au!”There were about sixty in the party, who had come out on a special hunt, as one of their number had, the day before, observed his large tracks on the plains. When they had skinned him his flesh grew cold, and his spirit took its flight from the dead body, and Grasshopper found himself in human shape, with a bow and arrows.But his passion for adventure was not yet cooled; for on coming to a large lake with a sandy beach, he saw a large flock of brant, and speaking to them in the brant language, he requested them to make a brant of him.“Yes,” they replied, at once; for the brant is a bird of a very obliging disposition.“But I want to be very large,” he said. There was no end to the ambition of little Grasshopper.“Very well,” they answered; and he soon found himself a large brant, all the others standing gazing in astonishment at his great size.“You must fly as leader,” they said.“No,” answered Grasshopper; “I will fly behind.”“Very well,” rejoined the brant; “one thing more we have to say to you, brother Grasshopper” (for he had told them his name). “You must be careful, in flying, not to look down, for something may happen to you.”“Well, it is so,” said he; and soon the flock rose up into the air, for they were bound north. They flew very fast—he behind. One day, while going with a strong wind, and as swift as their wings could flap, as they passed over a large village the Indians raised a great shout on seeing them, particularly on Grasshopper’s account, for his wings were broader than two large mats. The village people made such a frightful noise that he forgot what had been told him about looking down. They were now scudding along as swift as arrows; and as soon as he brought his neck in and stretched it down to look at the shouters, his huge tail was caught by the wind, and over and over he was blown. He tried to right himself, but without success, for he had no sooner got out of one heavy air-current than he fell into another, which treated him even more rudely than that he had escaped from. Down, down he went, making more turns than he wished for, from a height of several miles.The first moment he had to look about him, Grasshopper, in the shape of a big brant, was aware that he was jammed into a large hollow tree. To get backward or forward was out of the question, and there, in spite of himself, was Grasshopper forced to tarry till his brant life was ended by starvation, when, his spirit being at liberty, he was once more a human being.As he journeyed on in search of further adventures, Grasshopper came to a lodge in which were two old men, with heads white from extreme age. They were very fine old men to look at. There was such sweetness and innocence in their features that Grasshopper would have enjoyed himself very much at their lodge, if he had had no other entertainment than such as the gazing upon the serene and happy faces of the two innocent old men with heads white from extreme age afforded.They treated him well, and he made known to them that he was going back to his village, his friends and people, whereupon the two white-headed old men very heartily wished him a good journey and abundance of comfort in seeing his friends once more. They even arose, old and infirm as they were, and tottering with exceeding difficulty to the door, were at great pains to point out to him the exact course he should take; and they called his attention to the circumstance that it was much shorter and more direct than he would have taken himself. Ah! what merry deceivers were these two old men with very white heads.Grasshopper, with blessings showered on him until he was fairly out of sight, set forth with good heart. He thought he heard loud laughter resounding after him in the direction of the lodge of the two old men; but it could not have been the two old men, for they were, certainly, too old to laugh.He walked briskly all day, and at night he had the satisfaction of reaching a lodge in all respects like that which he had left in the morning. There were two fine old men, and his treatment was in every particular the same, even down to the parting blessing and the laughter that followed him as he went his way.After walking the third day, and coming to a lodge the same as before, he was satisfied from the bearings of the course he had taken that he had been journeying in a circle, and by a notch which he had cut in the door-post that these were the same two old men, all along; and that, despite their innocent faces and their very white heads, they had been playing him a sorry trick.“Who are you,” said Grasshopper, “to treat me so? Come forth, I say.”They were compelled to obey his summons, lest, in his anger, he should take their lives; and they appeared on the outside of the lodge.“We must have a little trial of speed, now,” said Grasshopper.“A race?” they asked. “We are very old; we can not run.”“We will see,” said Grasshopper; whereupon he set them out upon the road, and then he gave them a gentle push, which put them in motion. Then he pushed them again—harder—harder—until they got under fine headway, when he gave each of them an astounding shock with his foot, and off they flew at a great rate, round and round the course; and such was the magic virtue of the foot of Grasshopper, that no object once set agoing by it could by any possibility stop; so that, for aught we know to the contrary, the two innocent, white-headed, merry old men, are trotting with all their might and main around the circle in which they beguiled Grasshopper, to this day.Continuing his journey, Grasshopper, although his head was warm and buzzing with all sorts of schemes, did not know exactly what to do until he came to a big lake. He mounted a high hill to try and see to the other side, but he could not. He then made a canoe, and sailed forth. The water was very clear—a transparent blue—and he saw that it abounded with fish of a rare and delicate complexion. This circumstance inspired him with a wish to return to his village, and to bring his people to live near this beautiful lake.Toward evening, coming to a woody island, he encamped and ate the fish he had speared, and they proved to be as comforting to the stomach as they were pleasing to the eye. The next day Grasshopper returned to the main land, and as he wandered along the shore he espied at a distance the celebrated giant, Manabozho, who is a bitter enemy of Grasshopper, and loses no opportunity to stop him on his journeyings and to thwart his plans.At first it occurred to Grasshopper to have a trial of wits with the giant, but, on second thoughts, he said to himself, “I am in a hurry now; I will see him another time.”With no further mischief than raising a great whirlwind of dust, which caused Manabozho to rub his eyes severely, Grasshopper quietly slipped out of the way; and he made good speed withal, for in much less time than you could count half the stars in the sky of a winter night, he had reached home.His return was welcomed with a great hubbub of feasting and songs; and he had scarcely set foot in the village before he had invitations to take pot-luck at different lodges, which would have lasted him the rest of his natural life. Pipe-bearer, who had some time before given up the cares of a ruler, and fallen back upon his native place, fairly danced with joy at the sight of Grasshopper, who, not to be outdone, dandled him affectionately in his arms, by casting him up and down in the air half a mile or so, till little Pipe-bearer had no breath left in his body to say that he was happy to see Grasshopper home again.Grasshopper gave the village folks a lively account of his adventures, and when he came to the blue lake and the abundant fish, he dwelt upon their charms with such effect that they agreed, with one voice, that it must be a glorious place to live in, and if he would show them the way they would shift camp and settle there at once.He not only showed them the way, but bringing his wonderful strength and speed of foot to bear, in less than half a day he had transported the whole village, with its children, women, tents, and implements of war, to the new water-side.Here, for a time, Grasshopper appeared to be content, until one day a message came for him in the shape of a bear, who said that their king wished to see him immediately at his village. Grasshopper was ready in an instant; and mounting upon the messenger’s back, off he ran. Toward evening they climbed a high mountain, and came to a cave where the bear-king lived. He was a very large person; and puffing with fat and a sense of his own importance, he made Grasshopper welcome by inviting him in to his lodge.As soon as it was proper, he spoke, and said that he had sent for him on hearing that he was the chief who was moving a large party toward his hunting-grounds.“You must know,” said the bear-king with a terrible growl, “that you have no right there, and I wish you would leave the country with your party, or else the strongest force will take possession. Take notice.”“Very well,” replied Grasshopper, going toward the door, for he suspected that the king of the bears was preparing to give him a hug. “So be it.”He wished to gain time, and to consult his people; for he had seen as he came along that the bears were gathering in great force on the side of the mountain. He also made known to the bear-king that he would go back that night that his people might be put in immediate possession of his royal behest.The bear-king replied that Grasshopper might do as he pleased, but that one of his young men was at his command; and, jumping nimbly on his back, Grasshopper rode home.He assembled the people, and ordered the bear’s head off, to be hung outside of the village, that the bear-spies, who were lurking in the neighborhood, might see it and carry the news to their chief.The next morning, by break of day, Grasshopper had all of his young warriors under arms and ready for a fight. About the middle of the afternoon the bear war-party came in sight, led on by the pursy king, and making a tremendous noise. They advanced on their hind-legs, and made a very imposing display of their teeth and eyeballs.The bear-chief himself came forward, and with a majestic wave of his right hand, said that he did not wish to shed the blood of the young warriors; but that if Grasshopper, who appeared to be the head of the war-party, consented, they two would have a race, and the winner should kill the losing chief, and all his young men should be servants to the other.Grasshopper agreed, of course—how little Pipe-bearer, who stood by, grinned as they came to terms!—and they started to run before the whole company of warriors who stood in a circle looking on.At first there was a prospect that Grasshopper would be badly beaten; for although he kept crowding the great fat bear-king till the sweat trickled from his shaggy ears, he never seemed to be able to push past him. By and by, Grasshopper, going through a number of the most extraordinary maneuvers in the world, raised about the great fat bear-king such eddies and whirlwinds with the sand, and so danced about, before and after him, that he at last got fairly bewildered, and cried out for them to come and take him off. Out of sight before him in reaching the goal, Grasshopper only waited for the bear-king to come up, when he drove an arrow straight through him, and ordered them to take the body away and make it ready for supper; as he was getting hungry.He then directed all of the other bears to fall to and help prepare the feast; for in fulfillment of the agreement they had become servants. With many wry faces the bears, although bound to act becomingly in their new character, according to the forfeit, served up the body of their late royal master; and in doing this they fell, either by accident or design, into many curious mistakes.When the feast came to be served up, and they were summoned to be in attendance, one of them, a sprightly young fellow of an inquisitive turn of mind, was found upon the roof of the lodge, with his head half way down the smoke-hole, with a view to learn what they were to have for dinner. Another, a middle-aged bear with very long arms, who was put in charge of the children in the character of nurse, squeezed three or four of the most promising young papooses to death, while the mothers were outside to look after the preparations; and another, when he should have been waiting at the back of his master, had climbed a shady tree and was indulging in his afternoon nap. And when, at last, the dinner was ready to be served, they came tumbling in with the dishes, heels over head, one after the other, so that one half of the feast was spread upon the ground, and the other half deposited out of doors, on the other side of the lodge.After a while, however, by strict discipline, and threatening to cut off their provisions, the bear-servants were brought into tolerable control.Yet Grasshopper, with his ever restless disposition, was uneasy; and, having done so many wonderful things, he resolved upon a strict and thorough reform in all the affairs of the village. To prevent future difficulty, he determined to adopt new regulations between the bears and their masters.With this view, he issued an edict that henceforward the bears should eat at the first table, and that the Indians were to wait upon them; that in all public processions of an honorable character the bears should go first; and that when any fighting was to be done, the Indians should have the privilege reserved of receiving the first shots. A special exemption was made in behalf of Grasshopper’s favorite and confidential adviser, the Pipe-bearer (who had been very busy in private, recommending the new order of things), who was to be allowed to sit at the head of the feast, and to stay at home with the old women in the event of battle.Having seen his orders strictly enforced, and the rights of the bears over the Indians fairly established, Grasshopper fixed his mind upon further adventures. He determined to go abroad for a time, and having an old score to settle with Manabozho, he set out with a hope of soon falling in with that famous giant. Grasshopper was a blood relation of Dais Imid, or He of the Little Shell, and had heard of what had passed between that giant and his kinsman.After wandering a long time he came to the lodge of Manabozho, who was absent. He thought he must play him a trick; and so he turned every thing in the lodge upside down, and killed his birds, of which there was an extraordinary attendance, for Manabozho is master of the fowls of the air, and this was the appointed morning for them to call and pay their court to him. Among the number was a raven, accounted the meanest of birds, which Grasshopper killed and hung up by the neck, to insult him.He then went on till he came to a very high point of rocks running out into the lake, from the top of which he could see the country, back as far as the eye could reach. While sitting there, Manabozho’s mountain chickens flew around and past him in great numbers. Out of mere spite to their master, Grasshopper shot them by the score, for his arrows were very sure and the birds very plenty, and he amused himself by throwing the birds down the rocks. At length a wary bird cried out:“Grasshopper is killing us; go and tell our father.”Away sped a delegation of the birds which were the quickest of wing, and Manabozho soon made his appearance on the plain below. Grasshopper, who, when he is in the wrong, is no match for Manabozho, made his escape on the other side. Manabozho, who had in two or three strides reached the top of the mountain, cried out:“You are a rogue. The earth is not so large but I can get up to you.”Off ran Grasshopper and Manabozho after him. The race was sharp; and such leaps and strides as they made! Over hills and prairies, with all his speed, went Grasshopper, and Manabozho hard upon him. Grasshopper had some mischievous notions still left in his head which he thought might befriend him. He knew that Manabozho was under a spell to restore whatever he, Grasshopper, destroyed. Forthwith he stopped and climbed a large pine-tree, stripped off its beautiful green foliage, threw it to the winds, and then went on.When Manabozho reached the spot, the tree addressed him: “Great chief,” said the tree, “will you give my life again? Grasshopper has killed me.”“Yes,” replied Manabozho, who, as quickly as he could, gathered the scattered leaves and branches, renewed its beauty with his breath, and set off. Although Grasshopper in the same way compelled Manabozho to lose time in repairing the hemlock, the sycamore, cedar, and many other trees, the giant did not falter, but pushing briskly forward, was fast overtaking him, when Grasshopper happened to see an elk. And asking him, for old acquaintance’ sake, to take him on his back, the elk did so, and for some time he made good headway, but still Manabozho was in sight.He was fast gaining upon him, when Grasshopper threw himself off the elk’s back; and striking a great sandstone rock near the path, he broke it into pieces, and scattered the grains in a thousand directions; for this was nearly his last hope of escape. Manabozho was so close upon him at this place that he had almost caught him; but the foundation of the rock cried out,“Haye! Ne-me-sho, Grasshopper has spoiled me. Will you not restore me to life?”“Yes,” replied Manabozho. He re-established the rock in all its strength.He then pushed on in pursuit, and had got so near to Grasshopper as to put out his arm to seize him; but Grasshopper dodged him, and, as his last chance, he immediately raised such a dust and commotion by whirlwinds, as made the trees break and the sand and leaves dance in the air. Again and again Manabozho stretched his arm, but he escaped him at every turn, and kept up such a tumult of dust that he dashed into a hollow tree which had been blown down, changed himself into a snake, and crept out at the roots just in time to save his life; for at that moment Manabozho, who had the power of lightning, struck it, and it was strewn about in little pieces.Again Grasshopper was in human shape, and Manabozho was pressing him hard. At a distance he saw a very high bluff of rocks jutting out into a lake, and he ran for the foot of the precipice which was abrupt and elevated. As he came near, to his surprise and great relief, the Manito of the rock opened his door and told Grasshopper to come in. The door was no sooner closed than Manabozho knocked.“Open it!” he cried, with a loud voice. The Manito was afraid of him; but he said to Grasshopper, “Since I have taken you as my guest, I would sooner die with you than open the door.”“Open it!” Manabozho again cried, in a louder voice than before.The Manito kept silent. Manabozho, however, made no attempt to open it by force. He waited a few moments.“Very well,” he said; “I give you till morning to live.”Grasshopper trembled, for he thought his last hour had come; but the Manito bade him to be of good cheer.When the night came on the clouds were thick and black, and as they were torn open by the lightning, such discharges of thunder were never heard as bellowed forth. The clouds advanced slowly and wrapped the earth about with their vast shadows as in a huge cloak. All night long the clouds gathered, and the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, and above all could be heard Manabozho muttering vengeance upon poor little Grasshopper.“You have led a very foolish kind of life, Grasshopper,” said his friend the Manito.“I know it—I know it!” Grasshopper answered.“You had great gifts of strength awarded to you,” said the Manito.“I am aware of it,” replied Grasshopper.“Instead of employing it for useful purposes, and for the good of your fellow-creatures, you have done nothing since you became a man but raise whirlwinds on the highways, leap over trees, break whatever you met in pieces, and perform a thousand idle pranks.”Grasshopper, with great penitence, confessed that his friend the Manito spoke but too truly; and at last his entertainer, with a still more serious manner, said:“Grasshopper, you still have your gift of strength. Dedicate it to the good of mankind. Lay all of these wanton and vain-glorious notions out of your head. In a word, be as good as you are strong.”“I will,” answered Grasshopper. “My heart is changed; I see the error of my ways.”Black and stormy as it had been all night, when morning came the sun was shining, the air was soft and sweet as the summer down and the blown rose; and afar off upon the side of a mountain sat Manabozho, his head upon his knees, languid and cast down in spirit. His power was gone, for now Grasshopper was in the right, and he could touch him no more.With many thanks, Grasshopper left the good Manito, taking the nearest way home to his own people.As he passed on, he fell in with an old man who was wandering about the country in search of some place which he could not find. As soon as he learned his difficulty, Grasshopper, placing the old man upon his back, hurried away, and in a short hour’s dispatch of foot set him down among his own kindred, of whom he had been in quest.Loosing no time, Grasshopper next came to an open plain, where a small number of men stood at bay, and on the very point of being borne down by great odds, in a force of armed warriors, fierce of aspect and of prodigious strength. When Grasshopper saw this unequal struggle, rushing forward he seized a long bare pole, and, wielding it with his whole force, he drove the fierce warriors back; and, laying about him on every hand, he soon sent them a thousand ways in great haste, and in a very sore plight.Without tarrying to receive the thanks of those to whom he had brought this timely relief, he made his utmost speed, and by the close of the afternoon he had come in sight of his own village. What were his surprise and horror, as he approached nearer, to discover the bears in excellent case and flesh, seated at lazy leisure in the trees, looking idly on while his brother Indians, for their pastime, were dancing a fantastic and wearisome dance, in the course of which they were frequently compelled to go upon all fours and bow their heads in profound obeisance to their bear-masters in the trees.As he drew nearer, his heart sunk within him to see how starved, and hollow-eyed, and woe-begone they were; and his horror was at its height when, as he entered his own lodge, he beheld his favorite and friend, the Pipe-bearer, also on all fours, smoothing the floor with the palms of his hands to make it a comfortable sitting-place for the bears on their return from the dance.It did not take Grasshopper a long time to resolve what he should do. He immediately resumed power in the village, bestowed a sound cudgeling upon the bears, and sent them off to live in the mountains, among their own people, as bears should; restored to the people all their rights; gave them plenty to eat and drink; exerting his great strength in hunting, in rebuilding their lodges, keeping in check their enemies, and doing all the good he could to every body.Peace and plenty soon shone and showered upon the spot; and, never once thinking of all his wild and wanton frolics, the people blessed Grasshopper for all his kindness, and sincerely prayed that his name might be held in honor for a thousand years to come, as no doubt it will.Little Pipe-bearer stood by Grasshopper in all his course, and admired his ways as much now that he had taken to being orderly and useful, as in the old times, when he was walking a mile a minute, and in mere wantonness bringing home whole forests in his arms for fire-wood, in midsummer.It was a great old age to which Grasshopper lived, and when at last he came to die, there was not a dry eye in all that part of the world where he spent his latter days.
The Story of a Prince’s QuestThere was once a king who had an only son. The years passed by and he did not marry, so one day his father called him before him and said:“The time has come when you should marry, my son. You are now at the age when you should no longer wait to choose your bride. Why is it that you have not already done this?”The prince replied:“I will wed no one except the daughter of the king of Naples.”“Do you know that the king of Naples has a daughter?” asked the father.“No,” answered the son. “I do not know.”“I should advise you to find out whether or not the king of Naples happens to have a daughter before you decide to marry her,” remarked the king dryly.“That is good advice,” replied the prince. “I thank you.”Accordingly, he asked everybody he met whether the king of Naples had a daughter. There was no person to be found who knew anything about it.“You’ll have to go to Naples to obtain this information,” advised the king. “It is a long journey, but if you are determined to marry nobody except the daughter of the king of Naples there seems to be no way except to go there and learn whether or not he has a daughter.”Accordingly, a ship was prepared and the prince sailed for Naples. It was a difficult, stormy voyage, but finally they arrived safely. The moment they landed the beggars came crowding about them. The prince distributed alms among them most generously.Then he asked: “Does any one know whether or not the king of Naples has a daughter?”There was nobody who knew. Finally, however, an old woman said that once she passed by the royal palace and there was a beautiful face at the window.“I think that perhaps this was the daughter of the king of Naples, but I do not know,” she added.“Go at once and find out,” ordered the prince. “You shall be richly rewarded.”The old woman hastened to the royal palace. She saw the same lovely face at the window which she had seen before.“Lovely lady, I want to talk to you!” she called out.Now it happened that day that the princess was feeling decidedly bored and out of tune with life. It looked like an interesting diversion to talk with the old woman. Thus it came to pass that she opened the window graciously.“What do you wish, good mother?” she asked.“Are you the daughter of the king of Naples?” questioned the old woman.“I am,” replied the princess.“May I come some day to sell you pretty things?” asked the old woman.The princess appointed an hour the next day when she might come with her wares. Then the old woman hurried back to the waiting prince.“The king of Naples has a daughter!” she cried. “A very beautiful daughter, too!”The prince showered the old woman with gold. He was so delighted that at last he had found this out that he could well afford to be generous.The old woman thanked him. “I did something else for you, kind sir,” she said. “I made an appointment to see the princess to-morrow. I am going to the palace at four o’clock to sell pretty things to her.”“Well done, good mother!” cried the prince, again thrusting his hand into his purse. “Let me go in your place!”The old woman gladly consented, and the prince dressed himself as a peddler. The next afternoon at four o’clock he went to the palace of the king of Naples.“It is a peddler with many interesting wares for sale,” said the servant who answered his knock. “He speaks of an appointment with your Royal Highness.”“Yes,” said the princess. “A peddler was to come to-day at four o’clock with pretty things for me to buy.”Accordingly, the prince was admitted to the presence of the daughter of the king of Naples. If she were surprised to find the peddler a handsome young man instead of the old woman with whom she had talked the day before she did not show it.“What lovely things you have!” she cried as she examined the tray full of ribbons and beads and trinkets.She selected a number of the wares and then she asked, “What is the price of these?”The prince would not set a price.“If your Royal Highness is pleased with these,” said he, “I have many more things at home which you will like even better. I’ll bring them to you to-morrow.”“That will be splendid!” cried the princess. “Come again to-morrow at this hour.”The next day the prince again dressed himself as a peddler, but underneath the outer garments he wore his own rich clothing. When he was admitted to the royal palace he laid aside his peddler’s disguise and stood before the princess looking like the true prince he was. He was very handsome in his rich suit of crimson velvet, with his hat with the long plume in his hand. The princess was so surprised that she turned pale.“Who are you?” she cried. “You surely are not the peddler who came here yesterday!”The prince smiled into her eyes, and, even without the peddler’s garments which were rolled up on the tray, she would have recognized him.He told her of the quest which had led him there, and she admired all the patience and diligence he had shown in finding out her existence. When he asked her to marry him at once, she readily consented. They planned that she should steal down the staircase at night and go away with him on his ship.All this sounded very romantic to the daughter of the king of Naples. She had never dreamed that a thing like this would ever happen. All her life she had been so closely guarded that stealing out of the palace and sailing away in the prince’s ship seemed the most wonderful thing in the world.The next night had been agreed on, and long ahead of the appointed hour the prince sat on horseback at the foot of the stairway down which the princess would steal. He was very weary with all the excitement of the past three days, and as he waited he fell asleep. A robber passed by and saw his sleeping form hanging limply on the saddle.“I’ll gently deposit him on the ground and get away with his horse and saddle,” thought the thief, as he stopped and regarded the horse with a critical eye.Just then, however, he saw something which made him change his mind about hurrying away after he had deposited the prince’s sleeping form beneath a tree. There was the loveliest maiden he had ever seen creeping silently down the stairway. She came straight up to him.“I’m ready, beloved,” were her words.The robber silently lifted her behind him on the horse’s back and together they rode away.“Where is your boat?” asked the princess after they had ridden together for some time without speaking.“So it is a boat which the fair lady is looking for,” thought the thief. “I was expecting this good horse to carry us the whole distance. A boat is a bit difficult to arrange, but it can be done if necessary. There ought to be a boat around somewhere for me to steal.”He left the daughter of the king of Naples on the shore while he went to steal a boat. When he returned the light shone upon his face and the girl thought that he did not look the same as the day before.“Of course, I’ve seen him only twice,” she told herself in an effort to gain assurance. “It must be the prince, my own true love.”“Here is our boat,” said the robber, and together they embarked.As the morning light shone upon the robber the princess saw that he was not in the least like the prince who had come a-peddling. The robber laughed.“Does my lady know with whom she is going away?” he asked.“I thought I was going with the prince who is my lover,” she replied, bursting into bitter tears.Running away was not half so romantic and delightful as she had pictured it. She heartily wished that she were back in the royal palace.As for the prince, he soon awoke and looked about the palace garden where he was lying under the tree.“How did I get here?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes sleepily.There was none to tell him, so he decided that his horse must have thrown him off and run away.“It is queer that my fall did not awaken me,” he said to himself. “It is a bit awkward to lose my horse. However, if the princess only keeps her promise and comes to me we shall manage to get to our ship somehow.”He waited very patiently for a time and then he began to fear that the princess had repented of her promise to run away. He did not give her up, however, until it was almost daylight. Then he sorrowfully returned to his waiting ship.“I have at least found out that the king of Naples has a daughter and that she is the most beautiful princess in the whole world,” he said. “If she prefers not to have a run-away marriage it will doubtless be better for me to sail home and tell my father to make arrangements with the king of Naples for our wedding. There are some advantages in this more dignified method.”Thus it happened that the prince sailed away for his own country, never dreaming that the princess had kept her promise to steal down the stairway in the night and that she was then in the hands of the wicked robber.The daughter of the king of Naples sobbed and cried so loud when she found that it was not her own prince with whom she was sailing that the robber became quite disgusted with her.“I thought you were a pretty little maid,” he said, “when I first saw you, but now I’ve changed my mind about you.”Indeed no person with good eyesight would have called the princess pretty at that moment, with her face all red and swollen with much weeping.The robber decided that he did not want to bother with her any longer, so he landed in the country of the Junqueiras and left her there. The princess wandered about the place until night came without seeing a single soul,—nothing but the sea, sky and rocks.She was really, however, not far from the hut in which there lived the wife and daughter of a poor fisherman. In the stillness of the night they heard a cry.“Some one is in trouble outside, mother,” said the daughter.“Perhaps the pirates have come and by this cry are trying to lure us out,” answered her mother cautiously. There were often pirate ships which stopped there. The daughter listened carefully.“No, mother,” she insisted. “I’m sure this is a girl’s cry.”The two women opened their door and crept out in the darkness. The sobs of the princess soon led them to the place upon the rocks where she lay crying as if her heart would break. They lifted her tenderly and carried her home.The fisherman’s daughter gave the princess some of her own clothes to wear and they lived together as if they were sisters. Together they did all the work of the little house and the princess was too busy to weep. Sometimes, however, she cried in the night when the fisherman’s wife and daughter were asleep. She wept for her lost love and for the royal palace of the king of Naples which had always been her home.Now it happened that the prince’s ship encountered a great storm and was driven about by the sea. At last it was blown by the gales to the land of the Junqueiras.The prince saw the fisherman’s daughter and the princess standing on the rocks by the sea. He stared hard at the princess. Then he spoke in a voice which shook.“You remind me of some one I used to know,” he said. “Tell me your name, I pray you, fair maid.”The princess looked down at the garments of the fisher maid which she wore. She blushed. The prince she had recognized the very moment she had seen him.“I am the daughter of the king of Naples,” she said.The fisherman’s daughter stared at her in amazement.“She is no king’s daughter!” she cried. “She is a poor abandoned maid who came to us out of the sea. We found her upon these very rocks. It is my own dress that she is wearing. A king’s daughter, indeed! She is no more the daughter of the king of Naples than I am!”But the prince had taken the daughter of the king of Naples in his arms. As soon as they returned to the palace their wedding was celebrated with great joy and they lived together as God lives with the angels.
AT THE foot of the Pseloretes on the island of Crete, there once grew up a youth called Kapetanakis, because his father, whose death made him an orphan, had been a kapetan or leader. Kapetanakis was a beautiful boy and he could bring forth such sweet sounds from his lyre that the flowers on the hillside smiled and danced.From the time that Kapetanakis was quite young, he would climb to the highest hill of the Pseloretes, named Thanatorahe or Death’s Hill, where he would sit for hours playing his lyre under the deep-blue Cretan sky and gazing down at the gray-blue sea that gives to Crete its name of the Blue Island. Sometimes the maidens of the village would leave their work to listen to his music which filled all the lands of Crete. The villagers might have supposed him an eagle, so high would he sit on the Thanatorahe, but they all knew him and gave him not a moment’s thought.Kapetanakis was always lonely. He felt that there was no one and nothing to love him except the hills of the Pseloretes. Often he would gaze far out to the Mediterranean as though he heard, above the sound of his playing, something calling him from the silent waters.One noon in autumn while he was lying half asleep in the dark shadows of the fir trees near the Onerovreshe, Spring of Dreams, he heard singing, the music of flutes and the throbbing of a drum from somewhere among the hills. He sat up. “Perhaps,” he thought, “someone is coming to me at last and I shall not be lonely any more.” The sounds drew nearer and he saw to his amazement three strange maidens, with long veils that sparkled with gems. Their dresses were of some silvery, silken fabric and their golden sandals were adorned with jewels whose gleam seemed to flash to the opposite shore.The maidens approached, two playing flutes and the third singing and gently beating a drum. They danced around the Onerovreshe without appearing to see him, passed on from hill to hill, from spring to spring, circling like flower petals eddied by a light wind, flitted over Mount Ida, and skimmed across the Mediterranean to vanish on the horizon.As a breeze, sighing among the mountains, leaves only a murmur behind it, so they passed, leaving in his soul only the echo of their music and the memory of their bright, shimmering garments.The next day at the same hour, Kapetanakis took his place again at the Onerovreshe and played on his three-stringed lyre, trying to catch the silver, bell-like beauty of those melodies. Sounds of unearthly sweetness floated up to him and he saw again the three strange maidens dancing over the Aerorahe, Hill of the Winds, and coming toward him. He held his breath; the lyre fell from his hands. Nearer and nearer danced the maidens till he breathed the perfume of their garments and felt the air stirred by their swift movements. Wild with joy he leaped up to dance with them, only to see them flit lightly away, circle about the Thanatorahe, and pass far beyond, growing smaller and smaller, till they disappeared where sky and Mediterranean meet.“What are they?” he asked of the spring. “Why do they come?” he asked of the fir trees. “They do not even see me! Oh, if they would stay, if they would speak to me!” He looked about at the rocks and hills and sky, but silence was everywhere.On the third day at noon Kapetanakis waited again at the spring with anxious eyes and pounding heart. Faint on the softly stirring air came the elfin music of the flutes. Kapetanakis scarcely breathed. Then he saw the glint of gems and the swirl of airy garments. The music swelled to a wave of sound that seemed to engulf the whole mountain.Now the three veiled maidens were on the Hill of the Winds, now on the Hill of Death. Kapetanakis stood up as they drew near and held out his hands to them. He cried out to them to stop, but they did not notice him and his voice was drowned in the harmony of sweet sound. Once more they circled about him, scattering their perfume on the air and their mysterious radiance on his soul, and once more they started away.He could not let them go. Madly he plunged after them and seized the veil of the one nearest. There was a shriek. The two others darted with the speed of a kite straight to the sea and vanished, while the third swayed, her face unveiled, gazing after them in terror and dismay.Kapetanakis stood amazed. He saw before him a maiden whose beauty rivaled that of Aphrodite. What was she? What were the two who had fled? He wanted to ask, but he feared his voice would make her fly away after the others. At the end of a long moment she turned slowly toward him and the look in her eyes was of such hopeless sadness that he instinctively dropped to his knees.“Oh, do not be sad,” he begged. “Only stay with me and I shall make you happy!”The maiden was silent.“Speak!” he pleaded. “Speak to me and tell me that you will stay and be happy!”Still the maiden did not answer. For three days it continued, his pleading and her silence. Finally she looked at him, her eyes full of grief and reproach, and said, “Why did you do this?”Kapetanakis had never heard a voice so angelic. The love that had been stirred by her beauty at the first moment he saw it was now awakened into life.“Speak again!” he cried. “I am happy only when I hear your voice. I love you, Agnoste. I want you for my wife.”She whom he called Agnoste, Unknown One, was thoughtfully silent for a time. Then she said, “I shall marry you on one condition.”“Only one!” he exclaimed joyously. “What is it?”“I am a fairy. You have me in your power. The condition is that I shall never speak again.”Kapetanakis tried to hide his disappointment. “I would accept any condition,” he answered solemnly.They were married. Three years passed. They built a little home at the foot of a hill and an elf-like child was born to them. Kapetanakis had hoped from the beginning that his love would melt the seal on that heavenly voice and that he would hear it in song and laughter and words of love. But all these three years Agnoste’s silence had hung like a shadow upon his soul. She only followed him about, gazing at him with a fixed expression.Even to the child, Agnoste never spoke. But this fairy child, with her great far-seeing eyes and her strangely quiet, graceful ways, seemed not wounded by her mother’s cold silence, as was Kapetanakis.“It cannot last,” he said to himself as he looked back over the three long years. He must find some way to make Agnoste forget the condition she had imposed upon him. Perhaps if she once broke her silence—He had heard that in great crises or stress of great emotion one did unexpected, almost unbelievable, things. He reasoned that what rouses a mother most is danger to her child and that, of all elements, fire is the most terrible. Then his idea came. It was desperate, but another day of this silence, he thought, would madden him. Still he would try pleading once more.That evening he sat at Agnoste’s feet as she worked in the candle light, and with all the fervor of his soul he sang his song of entreaty.“Oh, speak to me, dear one;Lonely has been my life.I long for the music of words,For the voice of my wife.“Long years for love I waited,Lonely my life and sad.Long years for gladness I waited:You spoke and I was glad.“My joy lived only a moment.For my joy, long gone, I cry.Let me hear your voice, beloved;Speak to me or I die.”Agnoste, smiling faintly, shook her head in silence. His plea had been useless.It was autumn again. The next morning was fine and clear. Kapetanakis left the house early, taking a rocky path up the Thanatorahe. There was suppressed excitement in every movement, though he said no word. When he looked back he saw, as he expected, Agnoste following with the child in her arms.They reached the top of the hill. It was partly wooded and on the north side among some fallen trees were dry, dead leaves leaped by the wind. He set to work furiously, gathering branches and leaves to make a pile on the rocky, wind-swept south side. Not knowing his intention, Agnoste laid the child down and helped him. Kapetanakis set fire to the heap and together they watched the flames leap half way to the sky.Then Kapetanakis went to the spot where his child lay sleeping and took it in his arms.“Surely, surely,” he thought, “she must speak when she thinks I am about to cast our child into the flames!” He approached the pile, lifted the child high, gave a swinging movement with his body and arms, as though he were ready to hurl it into the fire.Like an angel with wings invisible, Agnoste leaped into the air, caught the child from him, darted straight through the flames and without a sound flew over the hills and was lost on the gray-blue horizon of the Mediterranean. Weird sounds of tumult came from the fire which, like a snuffed candle, the instant Kapetanakis turned to it, died out. For hours he stood motionless before its ashes. Then with a violent waking of all his forces, he set out on a wild search for his wife and child.Kapetanakis was not seen sitting eagle-like on the Thanatorahe, nor his lyre heard among the hills. He climbed mountain peaks; he wandered through woods and fields; he followed the sunset, seeking the palace of the fairies in the sea.One noon after many years the people of the island saw once again Kapetanakis high on the Hill of Death. The notes of his lyre were sweet as in the old days, but sad, with despairing, heart-breaking sadness. When the villagers reached the rock on which he had been sitting, he was gone. They did not see him again.
A rich farmer was one day standing in his yard inspecting his fields and gardens. The corn was growing up vigorously and the fruit-trees were heavily laden with fruit. The grain of the year before still lay in such immense heaps on the floors that the rafters could hardly bear it. Then he went into the stable, where were well-fed oxen, fat cows, and horses bright as looking-glass. At length he went back into his sitting-room, and cast a glance at the iron chest in which his money lay.Whilst he was thus standing surveying his riches, all at once there was a loud knock close by him. The knock was not at the door of his room, but at the door of his heart. It opened, and he heard a voice which said to him, “Hast thou done good to thy family with it? Hast thou considered the necessities of the poor? Hast thou shared thy bread with the hungry? Hast thou been contented with what thou hast, or didst thou always desire to have more?” The heart was not slow in answering, “I have been hard and pitiless, and have never shown any kindness to my own family. If a beggar came, I turned away my eyes from him. I have not troubled myself about God, but have thought only of increasing my wealth. If everything which the sky covers had been mine own, I should still not have had enough.”When he was aware of this answer he was greatly alarmed, his knees began to tremble, and he was forced to sit down.Then there was another knock, but the knock was at the door of his room. It was his neighbour, a poor man who had a number of children whom he could no longer satisfy with food. “I know,” thought the poor man, “that my neighbour is rich, but he is as hard as he is rich. I don’t believe he will help me, but my children are crying for bread, so I will venture it.” He said to the rich man, “You do not readily give away anything that is yours, but I stand here like one who feels the water rising above his head. My children are starving, lend me four measures* of corn.” The rich man looked at him long, and then the first sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a drop of the ice of greediness. “I will not lend thee four measures,” he answered, “but I will make thee a present of eight, but thou must fulfil one condition.” “What am I to do?” said the poor man. “When I am dead, thou shalt watch for three nights by my grave.” The peasant was disturbed in his mind at this request, but in the need in which he was, he would have consented to anything; he accepted, therefore, and carried the corn home with him.It seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was about to happen, for when three days were gone by, he suddenly dropped down dead. No one knew exactly how it came to pass, but no one grieved for him. When he was buried, the poor man remembered his promise; he would willingly have been released from it, but he thought, “After all, he acted kindly by me. I have fed my hungry children with his corn, and even if that were not the case, where I have once given my promise I must keep it.” At nightfall he went into the churchyard, and seated himself on the grave-mound. Everything was quiet, only the moon appeared above the grave, and frequently an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy cry. When the sun rose, the poor man betook himself in safety to his home, and in the same manner the second night passed quietly by. On the evening of the third day he felt a strange uneasiness, it seemed to him that something was about to happen. When he went out he saw, by the churchyard-wall, a man whom he had never seen before. He was no longer young, had scars on his face, and his eyes looked sharply and eagerly around. He was entirely covered with an old cloak, and nothing was visible but his great riding-boots. “What are you looking for here?” the peasant asked. “Are you not afraid of the lonely churchyard?”“I am looking for nothing,” he answered, “and I am afraid of nothing! I am like the youngster who went forth to learn how to shiver, and had his labour for his pains, but got the King’s daughter to wife and great wealth with her, only I have remained poor. I am nothing but a paid-off soldier, and I mean to pass the night here, because I have no other shelter.” “If you are without fear,” said the peasant, “stay with me, and help me to watch that grave there.”“To keep watch is a soldier’s business,” he replied, “whatever we fall in with here, whether it be good or bad, we will share it between us.” The peasant agreed to this, and they seated themselves on the grave together.All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the air, and the two watchers perceived the Evil One standing bodily before them. “Be off, you ragamuffins!” cried he to them, “the man who lies in that grave belongs to me; I want to take him, and if you don’t go away I will wring your necks!” “Sir with the red feather,”* said the soldier, “you are not my captain, I have no need to obey you, and I have not yet learned how to fear. Go away, we shall stay sitting here.”The Devil thought to himself, “Money is the best thing with which to get hold of these two vagabonds.” So he began to play a softer tune, and asked quite kindly, if they would not accept a bag of money, and go home with it? “That is worth listening to,” answered the soldier, “but one bag of gold won’t serve us, if you will give as much as will go into one of my boots, we will quit the field for you and go away.”“I have not so much as that about me,” said the Devil, “but I will fetch it. In the neighbouring town lives a money-changer who is a good friend of mine, and will readily advance it to me.” When the Devil had vanished the soldier took his left boot off, and said, “We will soon pull the charcoal-burner’s nose for him, just give me your knife, comrade.” He cut the sole off the boot, and put it in the high grass near the grave on the edge of a hole that was half over-grown. “That will do,” said he; “now the chimney-sweep may come.”They both sat down and waited, and it was not long before the Devil returned with a small bag of gold in his hand. “Just pour it in,” said the soldier, raising up the boot a little, “but that won’t be enough.”The Black One shook out all that was in the bag; the gold fell through, and the boot remained empty. “Stupid Devil,” cried the soldier, “it won’t do! Didn’t I say so at once? Go back again, and bring more.” The Devil shook his head, went, and in an hour’s time came with a much larger bag under his arm. “Now pour it in,” cried the soldier, “but I doubt the boot won’t be full.” The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot remained empty. The Devil looked in himself with his burning eyes, and convinced himself of the truth. “You have shamefully big calves to your legs!” cried he, and made a wry face. “Did you think,” replied the soldier, “that I had a cloven foot like you? Since when have you been so stingy? See that you get more gold together, or our bargain will come to nothing!” The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed away longer, and when at length he appeared he was panting under the weight of a sack which lay on his shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, which was just as far from being filled as before. He became furious, and was just going to tear the boot out of the soldier’s hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke forth from the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor soul was saved.The peasant wished to divide the gold, but the soldier said, “Give what falls to my lot to the poor, I will come with thee to thy cottage, and together we will live in rest and peace on what remains, as long as God is pleased to permit.”
This is a story from the sand-dunes or sand-hills of Jutland; though it does not begin in Jutland, the northern peninsula, but far away in the south, in Spain. The ocean is the high road between the nations—transport thyself thither in thought to sunny Spain. There it is warm and beautiful, there the fiery pomegranate blossoms flourish among the dark laurels; from the mountains a cool refreshing wind blows down, upon, and over the orange gardens, over the gorgeous Moorish halls with their golden cupolas and coloured walls: through the streets go children in procession, with candles and with waving flags, and over them, lofty and clear, rises the sky with its gleaming stars. There is a sound of song and of castagnettes, and youths and maidens join in the dance under the blooming acacias, while the mendicant sits upon the hewn marble stone, refreshing himself with the juicy melon, and dreamily enjoying life. The whole is like a glorious dream. And there was a newly married couple who completely gave themselves up to its charm; moreover, they possessed the good things of this life, health and cheerfulness of soul, riches and honour.“We are as happy as it is possible to be,” exclaimed the young couple, from the depths of their hearts They had indeed but one step more to mount in the ladder of happiness, in the hope that God would give them a child; a son like them in form and in spirit.The happy child would be welcomed with rejoicing, would be tended with all care and love, and enjoy every advantage that wealth and ease possessed by an influential family could give.And the days went by like a glad festival.“Life is a gracious gift of Providence, an almost inappreciable gift!” said the young wife, “and yet they tell us that fulness of joy is found only in the future life, for ever and ever. I cannot compass the thought.”“And perhaps the thought arises from the arrogance of men,” said the husband. “It seems a great pride to believe that we shall live for ever, that we shall be as gods. Were these not the words of the serpent, the origin of falsehood?”“Surely you do not doubt the future life?” exclaimed the young wife; and it seemed as if one of the first shadows flitted over the sunny heaven of her thoughts.“Faith promises it, and the priests tells us so!” replied the man; “but amid all my happiness, I feel that it is arrogance to demand a continued happiness, another life after this. Has not so much been given us in this state of existence, that we ought to be, that we must be, contented with it?”“Yes, it has been given to us,” said the young wife, “but to how many thousands is not this life one scene of hard trial? How many have been thrown into this world, as if only to suffer poverty and shame and sickness and misfortune? If there were no life after this, everything on earth would be too unequally distributed, and the Almighty would not be justice itself.”“Yonder beggar,” replied the man, “has his joys which seem to him great, and which rejoice him as much as the king is rejoiced in the splendour of his palace. And then, do you not think that the beast of burden, which suffers blows and hunger, and works itself to death, suffers from its heavy fate? The dumb beast might likewise demand a future life, and declare the decree unjust that does not admit it into a higher place of creation.”“He has said, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions,'” replied the young wife: “heaven is immeasurable, as the love of our Maker is immeasurable. Even the dumb beast is His creature; and I firmly believe that no life will be lost, but that each will receive that amount of happiness which he can enjoy, and which is sufficient for him.”“This world is sufficient for me!” said the man, and he threw his arms round his beautiful, amiable wife, and then smoked his cigarette on the open balcony, where the cool air was filled with the fragrance of oranges and pinks. The sound of music and the clatter of castagnettes came up from the road, the stars gleamed above, and two eyes full of affection, the eyes of his wife, looked on him with the undying glance of love.“Such a moment,” he said, “makes it worth while to be born, to fall, and to disappear!” and he smiled. The young wife raised her hand in mild reproach, and the shadow passed away from her world, and they were happy—quite happy.Everything seemed to work together for them. They advanced in honour, in prosperity, and in joy. There was a change, indeed, but only a change of place; not in enjoyment of life and of happiness. The young man was sent by his sovereign as ambassador to the court of Russia. This was an honourable office, and his birth and his acquirements gave him a title to be thus honoured. He possessed a great fortune, and his wife had brought him wealth equal to his own, for she was the daughter of a rich and respected merchant. One of this merchant’s largest and finest ships was to be dispatched during that year to Stockholm, and it was arranged that the dear young people, the daughter and the son-in-law, should travel in it to St. Petersburg. And all the arrangements on board were princely—rich carpets for the feet, and silk and luxury on all sides.In an old heroic song, “The King’s Son of England,” it says, “Moreover, he sailed in a gallant ship, and the anchor was gilded with ruddy gold, and each rope was woven through with silk,” And this ship involuntarily rose in the mind of him who saw the vessel from Spain, for here was the same pomp, and the same parting thought naturally arose—the thought:“God grant that we all in joyOnce more may meet again.”And the wind blew fairly seaward from the Spanish shore, and the parting was to be but a brief one, for in a few weeks the voyagers would reach their destination; but when they came out upon the high seas, the wind sank, the sea became calm and shining, the stars of heaven gleamed brightly, and they were festive evenings that were spent in the sumptuous cabin.At length the voyagers began to wish for wind, for a favouring breeze; but the breeze would not blow, or, if it did arise, it was contrary. Thus weeks passed away, two full months; and then at last the fair wind blew—it blew from the south-west. The ship sailed on the high seas between Scotland and Jutland, and the wind increased just as in the old song of “The King’s Son of England.”“And it blew a storm, and the rain came down,And they found not land nor shelter,And forth they threw their anchor of gold,As the wind blew westward, toward Denmark.”This all happened a long, long while ago. King Christian VII. then sat on the Danish throne, and he was still a young man. Much has happened since that time, much has changed or has been changed. Sea and moorland have been converted into green meadows, heath has become arable land, and in the shelter of the West Jute huts grow apple trees and rose bushes, though they certainly require to be sought for, as they bend beneath the sharp west wind. In Western Jutland one may go back in thought to the old times, farther back than the days when Christian VII. bore rule. As it did then, in Jutland, the brown heath now also extends for miles, with its “Hun’s Graves,” its aërial spectacles, and its crossing, sandy, uneven roads; westward, where large rivulets run into the bays, extend marshes and meadow land, girdled with lofty sand-hills, which, like a row of Alps, raise their peaked summits towards the sea, only broken by the high clayey ridges, from which the waves year by year bite out huge mouthfuls, so that the impending shores fall down as if by the shock of an earthquake. Thus it is there to-day, and thus it was many, many years ago, when the happy pair were sailing in the gorgeous ship.It was in the last days of September, a Sunday, and sunny weather; the chiming of the church bells in the bay of Nissum was wafted along like a chain of sounds. The churches there are erected almost entirely of hewn boulder stones, each like a piece of rock; the North Sea might foam over them, and they would not be overthrown. Most of them are without steeples, and the bells are hung between two beams in the open air. The service was over, and the congregation thronged out into the churchyard, where then, as now, not a tree nor a bush was to be seen; not a single flower had been planted there, nor had a wreath been laid upon the graves. Rough mounds show where the dead had been buried, and rank grass, tossed by the wind, grows thickly over the whole churchyard. Here and there a grave had a monument to show, in the shape of a half-decayed block of wood rudely shaped into the form of a coffin, the said block having been brought from the forest of West Jutland; but the forest of West Jutland is the wild sea itself, where the inhabitants find the hewn beams and planks and fragments which the breakers cast ashore. The wind and the sea fog soon destroy the wood. One of these blocks had been placed by loving hands on a child’s grave, and one of the women, who had come out of the church, stepped towards it. She stood still in front of it, and let her glance rest on the discoloured memorial. A few moments afterwards her husband stepped up to her. Neither of them spoke a word, but he took her hand, and they wandered across the brown heath, over moor and meadow, towards the sand-hills; for a long time they thus walked silently side by side.“That was a good sermon today,” the man said at length. “If we had not God to look to, we should have nothing!”“Yes,” observed the woman, “He sends joy and sorrow, and He has a right to send them. Tomorrow our little boy would have been five years old, if we had been allowed to keep him.”“You will gain nothing by fretting, wife,” said the man. “The boy is well provided for. He is there whither we pray to go.”And they said nothing more, but went forward to their house among the sand-hills. Suddenly, in front of one of the houses where the sea grass did not keep the sand down with its twining roots, there arose what appeared to be a column of smoke rising into the air. A gust of wind swept in among the hills, whirling the particles of sand high in the air. Another, and the strings of fish hung up to dry flapped and beat violently against the wall of the hut; and then all was still again, and the sun shone down hotly.Man and wife stepped into the house. They had soon taken off their Sunday clothes, and emerging again, they hurried away over the dunes, which stood there like huge waves of sand suddenly arrested in their course, while the sandweeds and the dunegrass with its bluish stalks spread a changing colour over them. A few neighbours came up, and helped one another to draw the boats higher up on the sand. The wind now blew more sharply than before; it was cutting and cold: and when they went back over the sand-hills, sand and little pointed stones blew into their faces. The waves reared themselves up with their white crowns of foam, and the wind cut off their crests, flinging the foam far around.The evening came on. In the air was a swelling roar, moaning and complaining like a troop of despairing spirits, that sounded above the hoarse rolling of the sea; for the fisher’s little hut was on the very margin. The sand rattled against the window panes, and every now and then came a violent gust of wind, that shook the house to its foundations. It was dark, but towards midnight the moon would rise.The air became clearer, but the storm swept in all its gigantic force over the perturbed sea. The fisher people had long gone to bed, but in such weather there was no chance of closing an eye. Presently there was a knocking at the window, and the door was opened, and a voice said:“There’s a great ship fast stranded on the outermost reef.”In a moment the fish people had sprung from their couch, and hastily arrayed themselves.The moon had risen, it was light enough to make the surrounding objects visible, to those who could open their eyes for the blinding clouds of sand. The violence of the wind was terrible; and only by creeping forward between the gusts was it possible to pass among the sand-hills; and now the salt spray flew up from the sea like down, while the ocean foamed like a roaring cataract towards the beach. It required a practised eye to descry the vessel out in the offing. The vessel was a noble brig. The billows now lifted it over the reef, three or four cables’ lengths out of the usual channel. It drove towards the land, struck against the second reef, and remained fixed.To render assistance was impossible; the sea rolled fairly in upon the vessel, making a clean breach over her. Those on shore fancied they heard the cries of help from on board, and could plainly descry the busy useless efforts made by the stranded crew. Now a wave came rolling onward, falling like a rock upon the bowsprit, and tearing it from the brig. The stern was lifted high above the flood. Two people were seen to embrace and plunge together into the sea; in a moment more, and one of the largest waves that rolled towards the sand-hills threw a body upon the shore. It was a woman, and appeared quite dead, said the sailors; but some women thought they discerned signs of life in her, and the stranger was carried across the sand-hills into the fisherman’s hut. How beautiful and fair she was! certainly she must be a great lady.They laid her upon the humble bed that boasted not a yard of linen; but there was a woollen coverlet, and that would keep the occupant warm.Life returned to her, but she was delirious, and knew nothing of what had happened, or where she was; and it was better so, for everything she loved and valued lay buried in the sea. It was with her ship as with the vessel in the song of “The King’s Son of England.”“Alas, it was a grief to seeHow the gallant ship sank speedily.”Portions of wreck and fragments of wood drifted ashore, and they were all that remained of what had been the ship. The wind still drove howling over the coast. For a few moments the strange lady seemed to rest; but she awoke in pain, and cries of anguish and fear came from her lips. She opened her wonderfully beautiful eyes, and spoke a few words, but none understood her.And behold, as a reward for the pain and sorrow she had undergone, she held in her arms a new-born child, the child that was to have rested upon a gorgeous couch, surrounded by silken curtains, in the sumptuous home. It was to have been welcomed with joy to a life rich in all the goods of the earth; and now Providence had caused it to be born in this humble retreat, and not even a kiss did it receive from its mother.The fisher’s wife laid the child upon the mother’s bosom, and it rested on a heart that beat no more, for she was dead. The child who was to be nursed by wealth and fortune, was cast into the world, washed by the sea among the sand-hills, to partake the fate and heavy days of the poor. And here again comes into our mind the old song of the English king’s son, in which mention is made of the customs prevalent at that time, when knights and squires plundered those who had been saved from shipwreck.The ship had been stranded some distance south of Nissum Bay. The hard, inhuman days in which, as we have stated, the inhabitants of the Jutland shores did evil to the shipwrecked, were long past. Affection and sympathy and self-sacrifice for the unfortunate were to be found, as they are to be found in our own time, in many a brilliant example. The dying mother and the unfortunate child would have found succour and help wherever the wind blew them; but nowhere could they have found more earnest care than in the hut of the poor fisherwife; who had stood but yesterday, with a heavy heart, beside the grave which covered her child, which would have been five years old that day, if God had spared it to her.No one knew who the dead stranger was, or could even form a conjecture. The pieces of wreck said nothing on the subject.Into the rich house in Spain no tidings penetrated of the fate of the daughter and the son-in-law. They had not arrived at their destined post, and violent storms had raged during the past weeks. At last the verdict was given, “Foundered at sea—all lost.”But in the sand-hills near Hunsby, in the fisherman’s hut, lived a little scion of the rich Spanish family.Where Heaven sends food for two, a third can manage to make a meal, and in the depths of the sea is many a dish of fish for the hungry.And they called the boy Jürgen.“It must certainly be a Jewish child,” the people said, “it looks so swarthy.”“It might be an Italian or a Spaniard,” observed the clergyman.But to the fisherwoman these three nations seemed all the same, and she consoled herself with the idea that the child was baptized as a Christian.The boy throve. The noble blood in his veins was warm, and he became strong on his homely fare. He grew apace in the humble house, and the Danish dialect spoken by the West Jutes became his language. The pomegranate seed from Spanish soil became a hardy plant on the coast of West Jutland. Such may be a man’s fate! To this home he clung with the roots of his whole being. He was to have experience of cold and hunger, and the misfortunes and hardships that surrounded the humble; but he tasted also of the poor man’s joys.Childhood has sunny heights for all, whose memory gleams through the whole after life. The boy had many opportunities for pleasure and play. The whole coast, for miles and miles, was full of playthings; for it was a mosaic of pebbles, red as coral, yellow as amber, and others again white and rounded like birds’ eggs; and all smoothed and prepared by the sea. Even the bleached fish skeletons, the water plants dried by the wind, seaweed, white, gleaming, and long linen-like bands, waving among the stones, all these seemed made to give pleasure and amusement to the eye and the thoughts; and the boy had an intelligent mind—many and great faculties lay dormant in him. How readily he retained in his mind the stories and songs he heard, and how neat-handed he was! With stones and mussel shells he put together pictures and ships with which one could decorate the room; and he could cut out his thoughts wonderfully on a stick, his foster-mother said, though the boy was still so young and little! His voice sounded sweetly; every melody flowed at once from his lips. Many chords were attained in his heart which might have sounded out into the world, if he had been placed elsewhere than in the fisherman’s hut by the North Sea.One day another ship was stranded there. Among other things, a chest of rare flower bulbs floated ashore. Some were put into the cooking pots, for they were thought to be eatable, and others lay and shrivelled in the sand, but they did not accomplish their purpose, or unfold the richness of colour whose germ was within them. Would it be better with Jürgen? The flower bulbs had soon played their part, but he had still years of apprenticeship before him.Neither he nor his friends remarked in what a solitary and uniform way one day succeeded another; for there was plenty to do and to see. The sea itself was a great lesson book, unfolding a new leaf every day, such as calm and storm, breakers and waifs. The visits to the church were festal visits. But among the festal visits in the fisherman’s house, one was particularly distinguished. It was repeated twice in the year, and was, in fact, the visit of the brother of Jürgen’s foster-mother, the eel breeder from Zjaltring, upon the neighbourhood of the “Bow Hill.” He used to come in a cart painted red, and filled with eels. The cart was covered and locked like a box, and painted all over with blue and white tulips. It was drawn by two dun oxen, and Jürgen was allowed to guide them.The eel breeder was a witty fellow, a merry guest, and brought a measure of brandy with him. Every one received a small glassful, or a cupful when there was a scarcity of glasses: even Jürgen had as much as a large thimbleful, that he might digest the fat eel, the eel breeder said, who always told the same story over again, and when his hearers laughed he immediately told it over again to the same audience. As, during his childhood, and even later, Jürgen used many expressions from this story of the eel breeder’s, and made use of it in various ways, it is as well that we should listen to it too. Here it is:“The eels went into the bay; and the mother-eel said to her daughters, who begged leave to go a little way up the bay, ‘Don’t go too far: the ugly eel spearer might come and snap you all up.’ But they went too far; and of eight daughters only three came back to the eel-mother, and these wept and said, ‘We only went a little way before the door, and the ugly eel spearer came directly, and stabbed five of our party to death.’ ‘They’ll come again,’ said the mother-eel. ‘Oh no,’ exclaimed the daughters, ‘for he skinned them, and cut them in two, and fried them.’ ‘Oh, they’ll come again,’ the mother-eel persisted. ‘No,’ replied the daughters, ‘for he ate them up.’ ‘They’ll come again,’ repeated the mother-eel. ‘But he drank brandy after them,’ continued the daughters. ‘Ah, then they’ll never come back,’ said the mother, and she burst out crying, ‘It’s the brandy that buries the eels.’“And therefore,” said the eel breeder, in conclusion, “it is always right to take brandy after eating eels.”the eel breeder’s visit.And this story was the tinsel thread, the most humorous recollection of Jürgen’s life. He likewise wanted to go a little way outside the door, and up the bay—that is to say, out into the world in a ship; and his mother said, like the eel breeder, “There are so many bad people—eel spearers!” But he wished to go a little way past the sand-hills, a little way into the dunes, and he succeeded in doing so. Four merry days, the happiest of his childhood, unrolled themselves, and the whole beauty and splendour of Jutland, all the joy and sunshine of his home, was concentrated in these. He was to go to a festival—though it was certainly a burial feast.A wealthy relative of the fisherman’s family had died. The farm lay deep in the country, eastward, and a point towards the north, as the saying is. Jürgen’s foster-parents were to go, and he was to accompany them from the dunes, across heath and moor. They came to the green meadows where the river Skjärn rolls its course, the river of many eels, where mother-eels dwell with their daughters, who are caught and eaten up by wicked people. But men were said sometimes to have acted no better towards their own fellow men; for had not the knight, Sir Bugge, been murdered by wicked people? and though he was well spoken of, had he not wanted to kill the architect, as the legend tells us, who had built for him the castle, with the thick walls and tower, where Jürgen and his parents now stood, and where the river falls into the bay? The wall on the ramparts still remained, and red crumbling fragments lay strewn around. Here it was that Sir Bugge, after the architect had left him, said to one of his men, “Go thou after him, and say, ‘Master, the tower shakes.’ If he turns round, you are to kill him, and take from him the money I paid him; but if he does not turn round, let him depart in peace.” The man obeyed, and the architect never turned round, but called back, “The tower does not shake in the least, but one day there will come a man from the west, in a blue cloak, who will cause it to shake!” And indeed so it chanced, a hundred years later; for the North Sea broke in, and the tower was cast down, but the man who then possessed the castle, Prebjörn Gyldenstjerne, built a new castle higher up, at the end of the meadow, and that stands to this day, and is called Nörre Vosborg.Past this castle went Jürgen and his foster-parents. They had told him its story during the long winter evenings, and now he saw the lordly castle, with its double moat, and trees, and bushes; the wall, covered with ferns, rose within the moat; but most beautiful of all were the lofty lime trees, which grew up to the highest windows, and filled the air with sweet fragrance. In a corner of the garden towards the north-west stood a great bush full of blossom like winter snow amid the summer’s green: it was a juniper bush, the first that Jürgen had seen thus in bloom. He never forgot it, nor the lime tree: the child’s soul treasured up these remembrances of beauty and fragrance to gladden the old man.From Nörre Vosborg, where the juniper blossomed, the way went more easily; for they encountered other guests who were also bound for the burial, and were riding in waggons. Our travellers had to sit all together on a little box at the back of the waggon, but even this was preferable to walking, they thought. So they pursued their journey in the waggon across the rugged heath. The oxen which drew the vehicle slipped every now and then, where a patch of fresh grass appeared amid the heather. The sun shone warm, and it was wonderful to behold how in the far distance something like smoke seemed to be rising; and yet this smoke was clearer than the mist; it was transparent, and looked like rays of light rolling and dancing afar over the heath.“That is Lokeman driving his sheep,” said some one; and this was enough to excite the fancy of Jürgen. It seemed to him as if they were now going to enter fairyland, though everything was still real.How quiet it was! Far and wide the heath extended around them like a beautiful carpet. The heather bloomed; the juniper bushes and the fresh oak saplings stood up like nosegays from the earth. An inviting place for a frolic, if it were not for the number of poisonous adders of which the travellers spoke, as they did also of the wolves which formerly infested the place, from which circumstance the region was still called the Wolfsborg region. The old man who guided the oxen related how, in the lifetime of his father, the horses had to sustain many a hard fight with the wild beasts that were now extinct; and how he himself, when he went out one morning to bring in the horses, had found one of them standing with its fore-feet on a wolf it had killed, after the savage beast had torn and lacerated the legs of the brave horse.The journey over the heath and the deep sand was only too quickly accomplished. They stopped before the house of mourning, where they found plenty of guests within and without. Waggon after waggon stood ranged in a row, and horses and oxen went out to crop the scanty pasture. Great sand-hills, like those at home in the North Sea, rose behind the house, and extended far and wide. How had they come here, miles into the interior of the land, and as large and high as those on the coast? The wind had lifted and carried them hither, and to them also a history was attached.Psalms were sung, and a few of the old people shed tears; beyond this, the guests were cheerful enough, as it appeared to Jürgen, and there was plenty to eat and drink. Eels there were of the fattest, upon which brandy should be poured to bury them, as the eel breeder said; and certainly his maxim was here carried out.Jürgen went to and fro in the house. On the third day he felt quite at home, like as in the fisherman’s hut on the sand-hills where he had passed his early days. Here on the heath there was certainly an unheard-of wealth, for the flowers and blackberries and bilberries were to be found in plenty, so large and sweet, that when they were crushed beneath the tread of the passers by, the heath was coloured with their red juice.Here was a Hun’s Grave, and yonder another. Columns of smoke rose into the still air; it was a heath-fire, he was told, that shone so splendidly in the dark evening.Now came the fourth day, and the funeral festivities were to conclude, and they were to go back from the land-dunes to the sand-dunes.“Ours are the best,” said the old fisherman, Jürgen’s foster-father; “these have no strength.”And they spoke of the way in which the sand-dunes had come into the country, and it seemed all very intelligible. This was the explanation they gave:A corpse had been found on the coast, and the peasants had buried it in the churchyard; and from that time the sand began to fly, and the sea broke in violently. A wise man in the parish advised them to open the grave and to look if the buried man was not lying sucking his thumb; for if so, he was a man of the sea, and the sea would not rest until it had got him back. So the grave was opened, and he really was found with his thumb in his mouth. So they laid him upon a cart and harnessed two oxen before it; and as if stung by an adder, the oxen ran away with the man of the sea over heath and moorland to the ocean; and then the sand ceased flying inland, but the hills that had been heaped up still remained there. All this Jürgen heard and treasured in his memory from the happiest days of his childhood, the days of the burial feast. How glorious it was to get out into strange regions, and to see strange people! And he was to go farther still. He was not yet fourteen years old when he went out in a ship to see what the world could show him: bad weather, heavy seas, malice, and hard men—these were his experiences, for he became a ship boy. There were cold nights, and bad living, and blows to be endured; then he felt as if his noble Spanish blood boiled within him, and bitter wicked words seethed up to his lips; but it was better to gulp them down, though he felt as the eel must feel when it is flayed and cut up, and put into the frying-pan.“I shall come again!” said a voice within him. He saw the Spanish coast, the native land of his parents. He even saw the town where they had lived in happiness and prosperity; but he knew nothing of his home or race, and his race knew just as little about him.The poor ship boy was not allowed to land; but on the last day of their stay he managed to get ashore. There were several purchases to be made, and he was to carry them on board.There stood Jürgen in his shabby clothes, which looked as if they had been washed in the ditch and dried in the chimney: for the first time he, the inhabitant of the dunes, saw a great city. How lofty the houses seemed, and how full of people were the streets! some pushing this way, some that—a perfect maelstrom of citizens and peasants, monks and soldiers—a calling and shouting, and jingling of bell-harnessed asses and mules, and the church bells chiming between song and sound, hammering and knocking, all going on at once. Every handicraft had its home in the basements of the houses or in the lanes; and the sun shone so hotly, and the air was so close, that one seemed to be in an oven full of beetles, cockchafers, bees, and flies, all humming and murmuring together. Jürgen hardly knew where he was or which way he went. Then he saw just in front of him the mighty portal of the cathedral; the lights were gleaming in the dark aisles, and a fragrance of incense was wafted towards him. Even the poorest beggar ventured up the steps into the temple. The sailor with whom Jürgen went took his way through the church; and Jürgen stood in the sanctuary. Coloured pictures gleamed from their golden ground. On the altar stood the figure of the Virgin with the child Jesus, surrounded by lights and flowers; priests in festive garb were chanting, and choir boys, beautifully attired, swung the silver censer. What splendour, what magnificence did he see here! It streamed through his soul and overpowered him; the church and the faith of his parents surrounded him, and touched a chord in his soul, so that the tears overflowed his eyes.From the church they went to the market-place. Here a quantity of provisions were given him to carry. The way to the harbour was long, and, tired and overpowered by various emotions, he rested for a few moments before a splendid house, with marble pillars, statues, and broad staircases. Here he rested his burden against the wall. Then a liveried porter came out, lifted up a silver-headed cane, and drove him away—him, the grandson of the house. But no one there knew that, and he just as little as any one. And afterwards he went on board again, and there were hard words and cuffs, little sleep and much work; such were his experiences. They say that it is well to suffer in youth, if age brings something to make up for it.His time of servitude on shipboard had expired, and the vessel lay once more at Ringkjöbing, in Jutland: he came ashore and went home to the sand-dunes by Hunsby; but his foster-mother had died while he was away on his voyage.A hard winter followed that summer. Snowstorms swept over land and sea, and there was a difficulty in getting about. How variously things were distributed in the world! here biting cold and snowstorms, while in the Spanish land there was burning sunshine and oppressive heat. And yet, when here at home there came a clear frosty day, and Jürgen saw the swans flying in numbers from the sea towards the land, and across to Vosborg, it appeared to him that people could breathe most freely here; and here too was a splendid summer! In imagination he saw the heath bloom and grow purple with rich juicy berries, and saw the elder trees and the lime trees at Vosborg in blossom. He determined to go there once more.Spring came on, and the fishery began. Jürgen was an active assistant in this; he had grown in the last year, and was quick at work. He was full of life, he understood how to swim, to tread water, to turn over and tumble in the flood. They often warned him to beware of the troops of dogfish, which could seize the best swimmer, and draw him down, and devour him; but such was not Jürgen’s fate.At the neighbour’s on the dune was a boy named Martin, with whom Jürgen was very friendly, and the two took service in the same ship to Norway, and also went together to Holland; and they had never had any quarrel; but a quarrel can easily come, for when a person is hot by nature, he often uses strong gestures, and that is what Jürgen did one day on board when they had a quarrel about nothing at all. They were sitting behind the cabin door, eating out of a delf plate which they had placed between them. Jürgen held his pocket-knife in his hand, and lifted it against Martin, and at the same time became ashy pale in the face, and his eyes had an ugly look. Martin only said,“Ah! ha! you ‘re one of that sort, who are fond of using the knife!”Hardly were the words spoken, when Jürgen’s hand sank down. He answered not a syllable, but went on eating, and afterwards walked away to his work. When they were resting again, he stepped up to Martin, and said,“You may hit me in the face! I have deserved it. But I feel as if I had a pot in me that boiled over.”“There let the thing rest,” replied Martin; and after that they were almost doubly as good friends as before; and when afterwards they got back to the dunes and began telling their adventures, this was told among the rest; and Martin said that Jürgen was certainly passionate, but a good fellow for all that.They were both young and strong, well-grown and stalwart; but Jürgen was the cleverer of the two.In Norway the peasants go into the mountains, and lead out the cattle there to pasture. On the west coast of Jutland, huts have been erected among the sand-hills; they are built of pieces of wreck, and roofed with turf and heather. There are sleeping-places around the walls, and here the fisher people live and sleep during the early spring. Every fisherman has his female helper, his manager, as she is called, whose business consists in baiting the hooks, preparing the warm beer for the fishermen when they come ashore, and getting their dinners cooked when they come back into the hut tired and hungry. Moreover, the managers bring up the fish from the boat, cut them open, prepare them, and have generally a great deal to do.Jürgen, his father, and several other fishermen and their managers inhabited the same hut; Martin lived in the next one.One of the girls, Else by name, had known Jürgen from childhood: they were glad to see each other, and in many things were of the same mind; but in outward appearance they were entirely opposite; for he was brown, whereas she was pale and had flaxen hair, and eyes as blue as the sea in sunshine.One day as they were walking together, and Jürgen held her hand in his very firmly and warmly, she said to him,“Jürgen, I have something weighing upon my heart! Let me be your manager, for you are like a brother to me, whereas Martin, who has engaged me—he and I are lovers——but you need not tell that to the rest.”And it seemed to Jürgen as if the loose sand were giving way under his feet. He spoke not a word, but only nodded his head, which signified “yes.” More was not required; but suddenly he felt in his heart that he detested Martin; and the longer he considered of this—for he had never thought of Else in this way before—the more did it become clear to him that Martin had stolen from him the only being he loved; and now it was all at once plain to him, that Else was the being in question.When the sea is somewhat disturbed, and the fishermen come home in their great boat, it is a sight to behold how they cross the reefs. One of the men stands upright in the bow of the boat, and the others watch him, sitting with the oars in their hands. Outside the reef they appear to be rowing not towards the land, but backing out to sea, till the man standing in the boat gives them the sign that the great wave is coming which is to float them across the reef; and accordingly the boat is lifted—lifted high in the air, so that its keel is seen from the shore; and in the next minute the whole boat is hidden from the eye; neither mast nor keel nor people can be seen, as though the sea had devoured them; but in a few moments they emerge like a great sea animal climbing up the waves, and the oars move as if the creature had legs. The second and the third reef are passed in the same manner; and now the fishermen jump into the water; every wave helps them, and pushes the boat well forward, till at length they have drawn it beyond the range of the breakers.A wrong order given in front of the reef—the slightest hesitation—and the boat must founder.“Then it would be all over with me, and Martin too!” This thought struck Jürgen while they were out at sea, where his foster-father had been taken alarmingly ill. The fever had seized him. They were only a few oars’ strokes from the reef, and Jürgen sprang from his seat, and stood up in the bow.“Father—let me come!” he said; and his eye glanced towards Martin, and across the waves: but while every oar bent with the exertions of the rowers, as the great wave came towering towards them, he beheld the pale face of his father, and dare not obey the evil impulse that had seized him. The boat came safely across the reef to land, but the evil thought remained in his blood, and roused up every little fibre of bitterness which had remained in his memory since he and Martin had been comrades. But he could not weave the fibres together, nor did he endeavour to do so. He felt that Martin had despoiled him, and this was enough to make him detest his former friend. Several of the fishermen noticed this, but not Martin, who continued obliging and talkative—the latter a little too much.Jürgen’s adopted father had to keep his bed, which became his deathbed, for in the next week he died; and now Jürgen was installed as heir in the little house behind the sand-hills. It was but a little house, certainly, but still it was something, and Martin had nothing of the kind.“You will not take sea service again, Jürgen?” observed one of the old fishermen. “You will always stay with us, now.”But this was not Jürgen’s intention, for he was just thinking of looking about him a little in the world. The eel breeder of Zjaltring had an uncle in Alt-Skage, who was a fisherman, but at the same time a prosperous merchant, who had ships upon the sea; he was said to be a good old man, and it would not be amiss to enter his service. Alt-Skage lies in the extreme north of Jutland, as far removed from the Hunsby dunes as one can travel in that country; and this is just what pleased Jürgen, for he did not want to remain till the wedding of Martin and Else, which was to be celebrated in a few weeks.else affirms her preference for martin.The old fisherman asserted that it was foolish now to quit the neighbourhood; for that Jürgen had a home, and Else would probably be inclined to take him rather than Martin.Jürgen answered so much at random, that it was not easy to understand what he meant; but the old man brought Else to him, and she said, “You have a home now; that ought to be well considered.”And Jürgen thought of many things.The sea has heavy waves, but there are heavier waves in the human heart. Many thoughts, strong and weak, thronged through Jürgen’s brain; and he said to Else,“If Martin had a house like mine, whom would you rather have?”“But Martin has no house, and cannot get one.”“But let us suppose he had one.”“Why then I would certainly take Martin, for that’s what my heart tells me; but one can’t live upon that.”And Jürgen thought of these things all night through. Something was working within him, he could not understand what it was, but he had a thought that was stronger than his love for Else; and so he went to Martin, and what he said and did there was well considered. He let the house to Martin on the most liberal terms, saying that he wished to go to sea again, because it pleased him to do so. And Else kissed him on the mouth when she heard that, for she loved Martin best.In the early morning Jürgen purposed to start. On the evening before his departure, when it was already growing late, he felt a wish to visit Martin once more; he started, and among the dunes the old fisher met him, who was angry at his going. The old man made jokes about Martin, and declared there must be some magic about that fellow, “of whom all the girls were so fond.” Jürgen paid no heed to this speech, but said farewell to the old man, and went on towards the house where Martin dwelt. He heard loud talking within. Martin was not alone, and this made Jürgen waver in his determination, for he did not wish to encounter Else; and on second consideration, he thought it better not to hear Martin thank him again, and therefore turned back.On the following morning, before break of day, he fastened his knapsack, took his wooden provision box in his hand, and went away among the sand-hills towards the coast path. The way was easier to traverse than the heavy sand road, and moreover shorter; for he intended to go in the first instance to Zjaltring, by Bowberg, where the eel breeder lived, to whom he had promised a visit.The sea lay pure and blue before him, and mussel shells and sea pebbles, the playthings of his youth, crunched under his feet. While he was thus marching on, his nose suddenly began to bleed: it was a trifling incident, but little things can have great significances. A few large drops of blood fell upon one of his sleeves. He wiped them off and stopped the bleeding, and it seemed to him as if this had cleared and lightened his brain. In the sand the sea-eringa was blooming here and there. He broke off a stalk and stuck it in his hat; he determined to be merry and of good cheer, for he was going into the wide world—”a little way outside the door, in front of the hay,” as the young eels had said. “Beware of bad people, who will catch you and flay you, cut you in two, and put you in the frying-pan!” he repeated in his mind, and smiled, for he thought he should find his way through the world—good courage is a strong weapon!The sun already stood high when he approached the narrow entrance to Nissum Bay. He looked back, and saw a couple of horsemen gallopping a long distance behind him, and they were accompanied by other people. But this concerned him nothing.The ferry was on the opposite side of the bay. Jürgen called to the ferryman; and when the latter came over with the boat, Jürgen stepped in; but before they had gone half-way across, the men whom he had seen riding so hastily behind him, hailed the ferryman, and summoned him to return in the name of the law. Jürgen did not understand the reason of this, but he thought it would be best to turn back, and therefore himself took an oar and returned. The moment the boat touched the shore, the men sprang on board, and, before he was aware, they had bound his hands with a rope.“Thy wicked deed will cost thee thy life,” they said. “It is well that we caught thee.”He was accused of nothing less than murder. Martin had been found dead, with a knife thrust through his neck. One of the fishermen had (late on the previous evening) met Jürgen going towards Martin’s house; and this was not the first time Jürgen had raised his knife against Martin—so they knew that he was the murderer. The town in which the prison was built was a long way off, and the wind was contrary for going there; but not half an hour would be required to get across the bay, and a quarter of an hour would bring them from thence to Nörre Vosborg, a great castle with walls and ditches. One of Jürgen’s captors was a fisherman, a brother of the keeper of the castle; and he declared it might be managed that Jürgen should for the present be put into the dungeon at Vosborg, where Long Martha the gipsy had been shut up till her execution.No attention was paid to the defence made by Jürgen; the few drops of blood upon his shirt-sleeve bore heavy witness against him. But Jürgen was conscious of innocence; and as there was no chance of immediately righting himself, he submitted to his fate.The party landed just at the spot where Sir Bugge’s castle had stood and where Jürgen had walked with his foster-parents after the burial feast, during the four happiest days of his childhood. He was led by the old path over the meadow to Vosborg; and again the elder blossomed and the lofty lindens smelt sweet, and it seemed but yesterday that he had left the spot.In the two wings of the castle a staircase leads down to a spot below the entrance, and from thence there is access to a low vaulted cellar. Here Long Martha had been imprisoned, and hence she had been led away to the scaffold. She had eaten the hearts of five children, and had been under the delusion that if she could obtain two more, she would be able to fly and to make herself invisible. In the midst of the cellar roof was a little narrow air-hole, but no window. The blooming lindens could not waft a breath of comforting fragrance into that abode, where all was dark and mouldy. Only a rough bench stood in the prison; but “a good conscience is a soft pillow,” and consequently Jürgen could sleep well.The thick oaken door was locked, and secured on the outside by an iron bar; but the goblin of superstition can creep through a keyhole into the baron’s castle just as into the fisherman’s hut; and wherefore should he not creep in here, where Jürgen sat thinking of Long Martha and her evil deeds? Her last thought on the night before her execution had filled this space; and all the magic came into Jürgen’s mind which tradition asserted to have been practised there in the old times, when Sir Schwanwedel dwelt there. All this passed through Jürgen’s mind, and made him shudder; but a sunbeam—a refreshing thought from without—penetrated his heart even here; it was the remembrance of the blooming elder and the fragrant lime trees.He was not left there long. They carried him off to the town of Ringkjöbing, where his imprisonment was just as hard.Those times were not like ours. Hard measure was dealt out to the “common” people; and it was just after the days when farms were converted into knights’ estates, on which occasions coachmen and servants were often made magistrates, and had it in their power to sentence a poor man, for a small offence, to lose his property and to corporal punishment. Judges of this kind were still to be found; and in Jutland, far from the capital and from the enlightened well-meaning head of the government, the law was still sometimes very loosely administered; and the smallest grievance that Jürgen had to expect was that his case would be protracted.Cold and cheerless was his abode—and when would this state of things end? He had innocently sunk into misfortune and sorrow—that was his fate. He had leisure now to ponder on the difference of fortune on earth, and to wonder why this fate had been allotted to him; and he felt sure that the question would be answered in the next life—theexistence that awaits us when this is over. This faith had grown strong in him in the poor fisherman’s hut; that which had never shone into his father’s mind, in all the richness and sunshine of Spain, was vouchsafed as a light of comfort in his poverty and distress—a sign of mercy from God that never deceives.The spring storms began to blow. The rolling and moaning of the North Sea could be heard for miles inland when the wind was lulled; for then it sounded like the rushing of a thousand waggons over a hard road with a mine beneath. Jürgen, in his prison, heard these sounds, and it was a relief to him. No melody could have appealed so directly to his heart as did these sounds of the sea—the rolling sea, the boundless sea, on which a man can be borne across the world before the wind, carrying his own house with him wherever he is driven, just as the snail carries its home even into a strange land.How he listened to the deep moaning, and how the thought arose in him—”Free! free! How happy to be free, even without shoes and in ragged clothes!” Sometimes, when such thoughts crossed his mind, the fiery nature rose within him, and he beat the wall with his clenched fists.Weeks, months, a whole year had gone by, when a vagabond—Niels, the thief, called also the horse couper—was arrested; and now the better times came, and it was seen what wrong Jürgen had endured.In the neighbourhood of Ringkjöbing, at a beer-house, Niels, the thief, had met Martin on the afternoon before Jürgen’s departure from home and before the murder. A few glasses were drunk—not enough to cloud any one’s brain, but yet enough to loosen Martin’s tongue; and he began to boast, and to say that he had obtained a house, and intended to marry; and when Niels asked where he intended to get the money, Martin shook his pocket proudly, and said,“The money is there, where it ought to be.”This boast cost him his life; for when he went home, Niels went after him, and thrust a knife through his throat, to rob the murdered man of the expected gold, which did not exist.This was circumstantially explained; but for us it is enough to know that Jürgen was set at liberty. But what amends did he get for having been imprisoned a whole year, and shut out from all communion with men? They told him he was fortunate in being proved innocent, and that he might go. The burgomaster gave him two dollars for travelling expenses, and many citizens offered him provisions and beer—there were still good men, not all “grind and flay.” But the best of all was, that the merchant Brönne of Skjagen, the same into whose service Jürgen intended to go a year since, was just at that time on business in the town of Ringkjöbing. Brönne heard the whole story; and the man had a good heart, and understood what Jürgen must have felt and suffered. He therefore made up his mind to make it up to the poor lad, and convince him that there were still kind folks in the world.So Jürgen went forth from the prison as if to Paradise, to find freedom, affection, and trust. He was to travel this road now; for no goblet of life is all bitterness: no good man would pour out such measure to his fellow man, and how should He do it, who is love itself?“Let all that be buried and forgotten,” said Brönne the merchant. “Let us draw a thick line through last year; and we will even burn the calendar. And in two days we’ll start for dear, friendly, peaceful Skjagen. They call Skjagen an out-of-the-way corner; but it’s a good warm chimney-corner, and its windows open towards every part of the world.”That was a journey!—it was like taking fresh breath—out of the cold dungeon air into the warm sunshine! The heath stood blooming in its greatest pride, and the herd-boy sat on the Hun’s Grave and blew his pipe, which he had carved for himself out of the sheep’s bone. Fata Morgana, the beautiful aërial phenomenon of the desert, showed itself with hanging gardens and swaying forests, and the wonderful cloud phenomenon, called here the “Lokeman driving his flock,” was seen likewise.Up through the land of the Wendels, up towards Skjagen, they went, from whence the men with the long beards (the Longobardi, or Lombards) had emigrated in the days when, in the reign of King Snio, all the children and the old people were to have been killed, till the noble Dame Gambaruk proposed that the young people had better emigrate. All this was known to Jürgen—thus much knowledge he had; and even if he did not know the land of the Lombards beyond the high Alps, he had an idea how it must be there, for in his boyhood he had been in the south, in Spain. He thought of the southern fruits piled up there; of the red pomegranate blossoms; of the humming, murmuring, and toiling in the great beehive of a city he had seen; but, after all, home is best; and Jürgen’s home was Denmark.jürgen’s better fortune.At length they reached “Wendelskajn,” as Skjagen is called in the old Norwegian and Icelandic writings. Then already Old Skjagen, with the western and eastern town, extended for miles, with sand-hills and arable land, as far as the lighthouse near the “Skjagenzweig.” Then, as now, the houses were strewn among the wind-raised sand-hills—a desert where the wind sports with the sand, and where the voices of the seamen and the wild swans strike harshly on the ear. In the south-west, a mile from the sea, lies Old Skjagen; and here dwelt merchant Brönne, and here Jürgen was henceforth to dwell. The great house was painted with tar; the smaller buildings had each an overturned boat for a roof; the pig-sty had been put together of pieces of wreck. There was no fence here, for indeed there was nothing to fence in; butlong rows of fishes were hung upon lines, one above the other, to dry in the wind. The whole coast was strewn with spoilt herrings; for there were so many of those fish, that a net was scarcely thrown into the sea before they were caught by cartloads; there were so many, that often they were thrown back into the sea, or left to lie on the shore.The old man’s wife and daughter, and his servants too, came rejoicingly to meet him. There was a great pressing of hands, and talking, and questioning. And the daughter, what a lovely face and bright eyes she had!The interior of the house was roomy and comfortable. Fritters that a king would have looked upon as a dainty dish, were placed on the table; and there was wine from the vineyard of Skjagen—that is, the sea; for there the grapes come ashore ready pressed and prepared in barrels and in bottles.When the mother and daughter heard who Jürgen was, and how innocently he had suffered, they looked at him in a still more friendly way; and the eyes of the charming Clara were the friendliest of all. Jürgen found a happy home in Old Skjagen. It did his heart good; and his heart had been sorely tried, and had drunk the bitter goblet of love, which softens or hardens according to circumstances. Jürgen’s heart was still soft—it was young, and there was still room in it; and therefore it was well that Mistress Clara was going in three weeks in her father’s ship to Christiansand, in Norway, to visit an aunt, and to stay there the whole winter.On the Sunday before her departure they all went to church, to the holy Communion. The church was large and handsome, and had been built centuries before by Scotchmen and Hollanders; it lay at a little distance from the town. It was certainly somewhat ruinous, and the road to it was heavy, through the deep sand; but the people gladly went through the difficulties to get to the house of God, to sing psalms and hear the sermon. The sand had heaped itself up round the walls of the church; but the graves were kept free from it.It was the largest church north of the Limfjord. The Virgin Mary, with the golden crown on her head and the child Jesus in her arms, stood life-like upon the altar; the holy Apostles had been carved in the choir; and on the wall hung portraits of the old burgomasters and councillors of Skjagen; the pulpit was of carved work. The sun shone brightly into the church, and its radiance fell on the polished brass chandelier, and on the little ship that hung from the vaulted roof.Jürgen felt as if overcome by a holy, childlike feeling, like that which possessed him when, as a boy, he had stood in the splendid Spanishcathedral; but here the feeling was different, for he felt conscious of being one of the congregation.After the sermon followed the holy Communion. He partook of the bread and wine, and it happened that he knelt beside Mistress Clara; but his thoughts were so fixed upon Heaven and the holy service, that he did not notice his neighbour until he rose from his knees, and then he saw tears rolling down her cheeks.Two days later she left Skjagen and went to Norway. He stayed behind, and made himself useful in the house and in the business. He went out fishing, and at that time fish were more plentiful and larger than now. Every Sunday when he sat in the church, and his eye rested on the statue of the Virgin on the altar, his glance rested for a time on the spot where Mistress Clara had knelt beside him, and he thought of her, how hearty and kind she had been to him.And so the autumn and the winter time passed away. There was wealth here, and a real family life; even down to the domestic animals, who were all well kept. The kitchen glittered with copper and tin and white plates, and from the roof hung hams and beef, and winter stores in plenty. All this is still to be seen in many rich farms of the west coast of Jutland: plenty to eat and drink, clean decorated rooms, clever heads, happy tempers, and hospitality prevail there as in an Arab tent.Never since the famous burial feast had Jürgen spent such a happy time; and yet Mistress Clara was absent, except in the thoughts and memory of all.In April a ship was to start for Norway, and Jürgen was to sail in it. He was full of life and spirits, and looked so stout and jovial that Dame Brönne declared it did her good to see him.“And it’s a pleasure to see you too, old wife,” said the old merchant. “Jürgen has brought life into our winter evenings, and into you too, mother. You look younger this year, and you seem well and bonny. But then you were once the prettiest girl in Wiborg, and that’s saying a great deal, for I have always found the Wiborg girls the prettiest of any.”Jürgen said nothing to this, but he thought of a certain maiden of Skjagen; and he sailed to visit that maiden, for the ship steered to Christiansand, in Norway, and a favouring wind bore it rapidly to that town.One morning merchant Brönne went out to the lighthouse that stands far away from Old Skjagen: the coal fire had long gone out, and the sun was already high when he mounted the tower. The sand-banks extend under the water a whole mile from the shore. Outside these banks many ships were seen that day; and with the help of his telescope the old man thought he descried his own vessel, the “Karen Brönne.”Yes, surely there she was; and the ship was sailing up with Jürgen and Clara on board. The church and the lighthouse appeared to them as a heron and a swan rising from the blue waters. Clara sat on deck, and saw the sand-hills gradually looming forth: if the wind held she might reach her home in about an hour—so near were they to home and its joys—so near were they to death and its terrors. For a plank in the ship gave way, and the water rushed in. The crew flew to the pumps, and attempted to stop the leak. A signal of distress was hoisted; but they were still a full mile from the shore. Fishing boats were in sight, but they were still far distant. The wind blew shoreward, and the tide was in their favour too; but all was insufficient, for the ship sank. Jürgen threw his right arm about Clara, and pressed her close to him.With what a look she gazed in his face! As he threw himself in God’s name into the water with her, she uttered a cry; but still she felt safe, certain that he would not let her sink.And now, in the hour of terror and danger, Jürgen experienced what the old song told:“And written it stood, how the brave king’s sonEmbraced the bride his valour had won.”How rejoiced he felt that he was a good swimmer! He worked his way onward with his feet and with one hand, while with the other he tightly held the young girl. He rested upon the waves, he trod the water, he practised all the arts he knew, so as to reserve strength enough to reach the shore. He heard how Clara uttered a sigh, and felt a convulsive shudder pass through her, and he pressed her to him closer than ever. Now and then a wave rolled over her; and he was still a few cables’ lengths from the land, when help came in the shape of an approaching boat. But under the water—he could see it clearly—stood a white form gazing at him: a wave lifted him up, and the form approached him: he felt a shock, and it grew dark, and everything vanished from his gaze.On the sand-reef lay the wreck of a ship, the sea washed over it; the white figure-head leant against an anchor, the sharp iron extended just to the surface. Jürgen had come in contact with this, and the tide had driven him against it with double force. He sank down fainting with his load; but the next wave lifted him and the young girl aloft again.The fishermen grasped them, and lifted them into the boat. The blood streamed down over Jürgen’s face; he seemed dead, but he still clutchedthe girl so tightly that they were obliged to loosen her by force from his grasp. And Clara lay pale and lifeless in the boat, that now made for the shore.All means were tried to restore Clara to life; but she was dead! For some time he had been swimming onward with a corpse, and had exerted himself to exhaustion for one who was dead.Jürgen was still breathing. The fishermen carried him into the nearest house upon the sand-hills. A kind of surgeon who lived there, and was at the same time a smith and a general dealer, bound up Jürgen’s wounds in a temporary way, till a physician could be got next day from the nearest town.The brain of the sick man was affected. In delirium he uttered wild cries; but on the third day he lay quiet and exhausted on his couch, and his life seemed to hang by a thread, and the physician said it would be best if this string snapped.“Let us pray that God may take him to Himself; he will never be a sane man again!”But life would not depart from him—the thread would not snap; but the thread of memory broke: the thread of all his mental power had been cut through; and, what was most terrible, a body remained—a living healthy body—that wandered about like a spectre.Jürgen remained in the house of the merchant Brönne.“He contracted his illness in his endeavour to save our child,” said the old man, “and now he is our son.”People called Jürgen imbecile; but that was not the right expression. He was like an instrument, in which the strings are loose and will sound no more; only at times for a few minutes they regained their power, and then they sounded anew: old melodies were heard, snatches of song; pictures unrolled themselves, and then disappeared again in the mist, and once more he sat staring before him, without a thought. We may believe that he did not suffer, but his dark eyes lost their brightness, and looked only like black clouded glass.“Poor imbecile Jürgen!” said the people.He it was whose life was to have been so pleasant that it would be “presumption and pride” to expect or believe in a higher existence hereafter. All his great mental faculties had been lost; only hard days, pain, and disappointment had been his lot. He was like a rare plant torn from its native soil, and thrown upon the sand, to wither there. And was the image, fashioned in God’s likeness, to have no better destination? Was it to be merely the sport of chance? No. The all-loving God would certainly repay him in the life to come, forwhat he had suffered and lost here. “The Lord is good to all; and His mercy is over all His works.” These words from the Psalms of David, the old pious wife of the merchant repeated in patience and hope, and the prayer of her heart was that Jürgen might soon be summoned to enter into the life eternal.In the churchyard where the sand blows across the walls, Clara lay buried. It seemed as if Jürgen knew nothing of this—it did not come within the compass of his thoughts, which comprised only fragments of a past time. Every Sunday he went with the old people to church, and sat silent there with vacant gaze. One day, while the Psalms were being sung, he uttered a deep sigh, and his eyes gleamed: they were fixed upon the altar, upon the place where he had knelt with his friend who was dead. He uttered her name, and became pale as death, and tears rolled over his cheeks.They led him out of the church; and he said to the bystanders that he was well, and had never been ill: he, the heavily afflicted, the waif cast forth upon the world, remembered nothing of his sufferings. And the Lord our Creator is wise and full of loving-kindness—who can doubt it?In Spain, where the warm breezes blow over the Moorish cupola, among the orange trees and laurels, where song and the sound of castagnettes are always heard, sat in the sumptuous house a childish old man, the richest merchant in the place, while children marched in procession through the streets, with waving flags and lighted tapers. How much of his wealth would the old man not have given to be able to press his children to his heart! his daughter, or her child, that had perhaps never seen the light in this world, far less a Paradise.“Poor child!”Yes, poor child—a child still, and yet more than thirty years old; for to that age Jürgen had attained in Old Skjagen.The drifting sand had covered the graves in the churchyard quite up to the walls of the church; but yet the dead must be buried among their relations and loved ones who had gone before them. Merchant Brönne and his wife now rested here with their children, under the white sand.It was spring-time, the season of storms. The sand-hills whirled up in clouds, and the sea ran high, and flocks of birds flew like clouds in the storms, shrieking across the dunes; and shipwreck followed shipwreck on the reefs of “Skjagenzweig” from towards the Hunsby dunes. One evening Jürgen was sitting alone in the room. Suddenly his mind seemed to become clearer, and a feeling of unrest came upon him, which in his younger years had often driven him forth upon the heath and the sand-hills.“Home! home!” he exclaimed. No one heard him. He went out of the house towards the dunes. Sand and stones blew into his face and whirled around him. He went on farther and farther, towards the church: the sand lay high around the walls, half over the windows; but the heap had been shovelled away from the door, and the entrance was free and easy to open; and Jürgen went into the church.The storm went howling over the town of Skjagen. Within the memory of man the sea had not run so high—a terrible tempest! but Jürgen was in the temple of God, and while black night reigned without, a light arose in his soul, a light that was never to be extinguished; he felt the heavy stone which seemed to weigh upon his head burst asunder. He thought he heard the sound of the organ, but it was the storm and the moaning of the sea. He sat down on one of the seats; and behold, the candles were lighted up one by one; a richness was displayed such as he had only seen in the church in Spain; and all the pictures of the old councillors were endued with life, and stepped forth from the walls against which they had stood for centuries, and seated themselves in the entrance of the church.The gates and doors flew open, and in came all the dead people, festively clad, and sat down to the sound of beautiful music, and filled the seats in the church. Then the psalm tune rolled forth like a sounding sea; and his old foster-parents from the Hunsby dunes were here, and the old merchant Brönne and his wife; and at their side, close to Jürgen, sat their friendly, lovely daughter Clara, who gave her hand to Jürgen, and they both went to the altar, where they had once knelt together, and the priest joined their hands and joined them together for life. Then the sound of music was heard again, wonderful, like a child’s voice full of joy and expectation, and it swelled on to an organ’s sound, to a tempest of full, noble sounds, lovely and elevating to hear, and yet strong enough to burst the stone tombs.And the little ship that hung down from the roof of the choir came down, and became wonderfully large and beautiful, with silken sails and golden yards, “and every rope wrought through with silk,” as the old song said. The married pair went on board, and the whole congregation with them, for there was room and joyfulness for all. And the walls and arches of the church bloomed like the juniper and the fragrant lime trees, and the leaves and branches waved and distributed coolness; then they bent and parted, and the ship sailed through the midst of them, through the sea, and through the air; and every church taper became a star, and the wind sang a psalm tune, and all sang with the wind:“In love, to glory—no life shall be lost. Full of blessedness and joy. Hallelujah!”And these words were the last that Jürgen spoke in this world. The thread snapped that bound the immortal soul, and nothing but a dead body lay in the dark church, around which the storm raged, covering it with loose sand.The next morning was Sunday, and the congregation and their pastor went forth to the service. The road to church had been heavy; the sand made the way almost impassable; and now, when they at last reached their goal, a great hill of sand was piled up before the entrance, and the church itself was buried. The priest spoke a short prayer, and said that God had closed the door of this house, and the congregation must go and build a new one for Him elsewhere.So they sang a psalm under the open sky, and went back to their homes.Jürgen was nowhere to be found in the town of Skjagen, or in the dunes, however much they sought for him. It was thought that the waves, which had rolled far up on the sand, had swept him away.His body lay buried in a great sepulchre, in the church itself. In the storm the Lord’s hand had thrown a handful of earth on his grave; and the heavy mound of sand lay upon it, and lies there to this day.The whirling sand had covered the high vaulted passages; whitethorn and wild rose trees grow over the church, over which the wanderer now walks; while the tower, standing forth like a gigantic tombstone over a grave, is to be seen for miles around: no king has a more splendid tombstone. No one disturbs the rest of the dead; no one knew of this, and we are the first who know of this grave—the storm sang the tale to me among the sand-hills.
Another night had come, and I made my way toward War Eagle’s lodge. In the bright moonlight the dead leaves of the quaking-aspen fluttered down whenever the wind shook the trees; and over the village great flocks of ducks and geese and swan passed in a never-ending procession, calling to each other in strange tones as they sped away toward the waters that never freeze.In the lodge War Eagle waited for his grandchildren, and when they had entered, happily, he laid aside his pipe and said:“The Duck-people are travelling to-night just as they have done since the world was young. They are going away from winter because they cannot make a living when ice covers the rivers.“You have seen the Duck-people often. You have noticed that they wear fine clothes but you do not know how they got them; so I will tell you to-night.“It was in the fall when leaves are yellow that it happened, and long, long ago. The Duck-people had gathered to go away, just as they are doing now. The buck-deer was coming down from the high ridges to visit friends in the lowlands along the streams as they have always done. On a lake OLD-man saw the Duck-people getting ready to go away, and at that time they all looked alike; that is, they all wore the same colored clothes. The loons and the geese and the ducks were there and playing in the sunlight. The loons were laughing loudly and the diving was fast and merry to see. On the hill where OLD-man stood there was a great deal of moss, and he began to tear it from the ground and roll it into a great ball. When he had gathered all he needed he shouldered the load and started for the shore of the lake, staggering under the weight of the great burden. Finally the Duck-people saw him coming with his load of moss and began to swim away from the shore.“‘Wait, my brothers!’ he called, ‘I have a big load here, and I am going to give you people a dance. Come and help me get things ready.’“‘Don’t you do it,’ said the gray goose to the others; ‘that’s OLD-man and he is up to something bad, I am sure.’“So the loon called to OLD-man and said they wouldn’t help him at all.“Right near the water OLD-man dropped his ball of moss and then cut twenty long poles. With the poles he built a lodge which he covered with the moss, leaving a doorway facing the lake. Inside the lodge he built a fire and when it grew bright he cried:“‘Say, brothers, why should you treat me this way when I am here to give you a big dance? Come into the lodge,’ but they wouldn’t do that. Finally OLD-man began to sing a song in the duck-talk, and keep time with his drum. The Duck-people liked the music, and swam a little nearer to the shore, watching for trouble all the time, but OLD-man sang so sweetly that pretty soon they waddled up to the lodge and went inside. The loon stopped near the door, for he believed that what the gray goose had said was true, and that OLD-man was up to some mischief. The gray goose, too, was careful to stay close to the door but the ducks reached all about the fire. Politely, OLD-man passed the pipe, and they all smoked with him because it is wrong not to smoke in a person’s lodge if the pipe is offered, and the Duck-people knew that.“‘Well,’ said Old-man, ‘this is going to be the Blind-dance, but you will have to be painted first.“‘Brother Mallard, name the colors—tell how you want me to paint you.’“‘Well,’ replied the mallard drake, ‘paint my head green, and put a white circle around my throat, like a necklace. Besides that, I want a brown breast and yellow legs: but I don’t want my wife painted that way.’“OLD-man painted him just as he asked, and his wife, too. Then the teal and the wood-duck (it took a long time to paint the wood-duck) and the spoonbill and the blue-bill and the canvasback and the goose and the brant and the loon—all chose their paint. OLD-man painted them all just as they wanted him to, and kept singing all the time. They looked very pretty in the firelight, for it was night before the painting was done.“‘Now,’ said OLD-man, ‘as this is the Blind-dance, when I beat upon my drum you must all shut your eyes tight and circle around the fire as I sing. Every one that peeks will have sore eyes forever.’“Then the Duck-people shut their eyes and OLD-man began to sing: ‘Now you come, ducks, now you come—tum-tum, tum; tum-tum, tum.’“Around the fire they came with their eyes still shut, and as fast as they reached OLD-man, the rascal would seize them, and wring their necks. Ho! things were going fine for OLD-man, but the loon peeked a little, and saw what was going on; several others heard the fluttering and opened their eyes, too. The loon cried out, ‘He’s killing us—let us fly,’ and they did that. There was a great squawking and quacking and fluttering as the Duck-people escaped from the lodge. Ho! but OLD-man was angry, and he kicked the back of the loon-duck, and that is why his feet turn from his body when he walks or tries to stand. Yes, that is why he is a cripple to-day.“And all of the Duck-people that peeked that night at the dance still have sore eyes—just as OLD-man told them they would have. Of course they hurt and smart no more but they stay red to pay for peeking, and always will. You have seen the mallard and the rest of the Duck-people. You can see that the colors OLD-man painted so long ago are still bright and handsome, and they will stay that way forever and forever. Ho!”
They both journeyed on without conversing together at all, till the devil began: ‘How very nice and beautiful it would be, if there were firm land in the world l’ ‘There shall be,’ answered God; ‘go down into the depth of the sea and bring up a handful of sand; I will make the land from it. When thou descendest, and art about to take the sand, say these words: “I take thee in the name of God.”‘ The devil didn’t wait long, but was immediately under the water. On the bottom he reached after the sand with both hands with these words: ‘I take thee in my own name.’ When he came up to the top he looked with curiosity at his closed fists, and was astonished at seeing that they were empty. But God, observing what had happened to him, consoled him, and told him to go down to the bottom once more. He did so, and as soon as he began to grub into the sand in the deep, he said: ‘I take thee in his name.’ However, he brought up only as much sand, as could get under his nails; God took a little of the sand and firm land formed itself; but only as much as was required for a bed. When night came, God and the devil lay down side by side on the firm land to pass the night. As soon as our Lord God fell asleep, the devil pushed him towards the east, in order that he might fall into the water and perish. In the direction in which he pushed him, there did it become land for a long way. The devil tried pushing him towards the west, and on that side the land extended far. A similar circumstance helped to form land also on the other sides of the world.As soon as God had made the land, he ascended to heaven. The devil, not liking to stay without him, followed in his track. Now he heard how the angels praised God in hymns, and began to feel annoyed, that he had no one to rejoice at his arrival. He went up to God and whispered in his ear: ‘What must I do, that I may have such a multitude?’ God answered him: ‘Wash thy hands and face, and sprinkle the water behind thee.’He did so, and there came into existence such a multitude of devils that the angels and saints no more had sufficient room in heaven. God observed what an injury there was from this to his own. He summoned St. Ilya, and ordered him to let off a storm of thunder and lightning. Ilya was glad at this; he roared, thundered, and lightened with a tempest, and poured rain for forty days and nights, and along with the great rain the devils also fell from heaven on to the earth. At last there were no more wicked ones, and angels also began to fall. Then God ordered Ilya to stop, and wherever any devil struck the ground at the time that he fell, there he remained. From that time to this bright little fires have darted about in heaven, and only now fall upon the earth.
There was an old country-house which belonged to young, wealthy people. They had riches and blessings, they liked to enjoy themselves, but they did good as well, they wished to make everybody as happy as they were themselves. On Christmas Eve a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood in the old hall, where the fire burned in the chimney, and fir branches were hung round the old pictures. Here were assembled the family and their guests, and there was dancing and singing.Earlier in the evening there had been Christmas gaiety in the servants’ hall. Here also was a great fir-tree with red and white candles, small Danish flags, swans and fishing-nets, cut out of coloured paper, and filled with goodies. The poor children from the neighbourhood were invited, every one had his mother with him. The mothers did not look much at the Christmas-tree, but at the Christmas table, where there lay linen and woollen cloth—stuff for gowns and stuff for trousers. They and the bigger children looked there, only the very little ones stretched out their hands to the candles, and the tinsel and flags.The whole party came early in the afternoon and got Christmas porridge and roast goose with red cabbage. Then when the Christmas-tree was seen and the gifts distributed, each got a little glass of punch with apple fritters. Then they went back to their own poor homes and talked of the good living, that is to say good things to eat; and the gifts were once more inspected. There were now Garden Kirsten and Garden Ole. They were married, and had their house and daily bread for weeding and digging in the garden of the big house. Every Christmas festival they got a good share of the gifts; they had five children, and all of them were clothed by the family.“They are generous people, our master and mistress,” said they, “but they have the means to be so, and they have pleasure in doing it.”“Here are good clothes for the four children to wear,” said Ole; “but why is there nothing for the cripple? They used to think about him too, although he was not at the festival.”It was the eldest of the children they called “The Cripple”, he was called Hans otherwise.As a little boy, he was the smartest and liveliest child, but he became all at once “loose in the legs”, as they call it, he could neither walk nor stand, and now he had been lying in bed for five years.“Yes, I got something for him too,” said the mother, “but it is nothing much, it is only a book to read.”“He won’t get fat on that,” said the father.But Hans was glad of it. He was a very clever boy who liked to read, but used his time also for working, so far as one who must always lie in bed could he useful. He was very handy, and knitted woollen stockings, and even bedcovers. The lady at the big house had praised and bought them. It was a story-book Hans had got; in it there was much to read and much to think about.“It is not of any kind of use here in the house,” said his parents, “but let him read, it passes the time, he cannot always be knitting stockings!”The spring came; flowers and green leaves began to sprout-the weeds also, as one may call the nettles, although the psalm speaks so nicely of them:Though kings in all their power and mightCame forth in splendid rowThey could not make the smallest leafUpon a nettle grow.There was much to do in the garden, not only for the gardener and his apprentice, but also for Kirsten and Ole.“It is perfect drudgery,” said they. “We have no sooner raked the paths and made them nice, than they are just trodden down again. There is such a run of visitors up at the house. How much it must cost! But the family are rich people!”“Things are badly divided,” said Ole; “the priest says we are all our Father’s children, why the difference then?”“It comes from the Fall!” said Kirsten.They talked about it again in the evening, where cripple Hans lay with his story-book.Straitened circumstances, work, and drudgery, had made the parents not only hard in the hands, but also in their opinions and judgements; they could not grasp it, could not explain it, and made themselves more peevish and angry as they talked.“Some people get prosperity and happiness, others only poverty! Why should our first parents’ disobedience and curiosity be visited upon us? We would not have behaved ourselves as they did!”“Yes, we would!” said cripple Hans, all at once. “It is all here in the book.”“What is in the book?” asked the parents.And Hans read for them the old story of the wood-cutter and his wife. They also scolded about Adam’s and Eve’s curiosity, which was the cause of their misfortune. The king of the country came past just then. “Come home with me,” said he, “then you shall have it as good as I; seven courses for dinner and a course for show. That is in a closed tureen, and you must not touch it; for if you do, it is all over with your grandeur.” “What can there be in the tureen?” said the wife. “That does not concern us,” said the man. “Yes, I am not inquisitive,” said the wife, “but I would only like to know why we dare not lift the lid; it is certainly something delicate!” “If only it is not something mechanical,” said the man such as a pistol, which goes off and wakens the whole house.” “O my!” said the wife, and did not touch the tureen. But during the night she dreamt that the lid lifted itself, and from the tureen came a smell of the loveliest punch, such as one gets at weddings and funerals. There lay a big silver shilling with the inscription, “Drink of this punch, and you will become the two richest people in the world, and everybody else will become beggars!”—and the wife wakened at once and told her husband her dream. “You think too much about the thing!” said he. “We could lift it gently,” said the wife. “Gently,” said the man, and the wife then lifted the lid very gently. Then two little active mice sprang out, and ran at once into a mouse-hole. “Good night,” said the king. “Now you can go home and lie in your own bed. Don’t scold Adam and Eve any more, you yourselves have been as inquisitive and ungrateful!”“From where has that story come in the book?” said Ole. “It looks as if it concerned us. It is something to think about!”Next day they went to work again; they were roasted by the sun, and soaked to the skin with rain; in them were fretful thoughts, and they ruminated on them.It was still quite light at home after they had eaten their milk porridge.“Read the story of the wood-cutter to us again,” said Ole.“There are so many nice ones in the book,” said Hans, “so many, you don’t know.”“Yes, but I don’t care about them,” said Ole, “I want to hear the one I know.”And he and his wife listened to it again.More than one evening they returned to the story.“It cannot quite make everything clear to me,” said Ole.“It is with people as with sweet milk, which sours; some become fine cheese, and others the thin, watery whey; some people have luck in everything, sit at the high-table every day, and know neither sorrow nor want.”Cripple Hans heard that. He was weak in the legs, but clever in the head. He read to them from his story-book, read about “The man without sorrow or want”. Where was he to be found, for found he must be!The king lay sick and could not be cured, except by being dressed in the shirt which had been worn on the body of a man who could truthfully say that he had never known sorrow or want.Messages were sent to all the countries in the world, to all castles and estates, to all prosperous and happy men, but when it was properly investigated, every one of them had experienced sorrow and want.“That I have not!” said the swineherd who sat in the ditch and laughed and sang, “I am the happiest man!”“Then give us your shirt,” said the king’s messengers. “You shall be paid for it with the half of the kingdom.”But he had no shirt, and yet he called himself the happiest man.“That was a fine fellow,” shouted Ole, and he and his wife laughed as they had not laughed for a year and a day. Then the schoolmaster came past.“How you are enjoying yourselves!” said he, “that is something new in this house. Have you won a prize in the lottery?”“No, we are not of that kind,” said Ole. “It is Hans who has been reading his story-book to us, about ‘The man without sorrow or want’, and the fellow had no shirt. One’s eyes get moist when one hears such things, and that from a printed book. Every one has his load to draw, one is not alone in that. That is always a comfort.”“Where did you get that book?” asked the schoolmaster.“Our Hans got it more than a year ago at Christmastime. The master and mistress gave it to him. They know that he likes reading so much, and he is a cripple. We would rather have seen him get two linen shirts at the time. But the book is wonderful, it can almost answer one’s thoughts.”The schoolmaster took the book and opened it.“Let us have the same story again!” said Ole, “I have not quite taken it in yet. Then he must also read the other about the wood-cutter!”These two stories were enough for Ole. They were like two sunbeams coming into the poor room, into the stunted thought which made him so cross and ill-natured. Hans had read the whole book, read it many times. The stories carried him out into the world, there, where he could not go, because his legs would not carry him.The schoolmaster sat by his bed: they talked together, and it was a pleasure for both of them. From that day the schoolmaster came often to Hans, when the parents were at work. It was a treat for the boy, every time he came. How he listened to what the old man told him, about the size of the world and its many countries, and that the sun was almost half a million times bigger than the earth, and so far away that a cannon-ball in its course would take a whole twenty-five years to come from the sun to the earth, whilst the beams of light could come in eight minutes.Every industrious schoolboy -knew all that, but for Hans it was all new, and still more wonderful than what was in the story-book.The schoolmaster dined with the squire’s family two or three times a year, and he told how much importance the story-book had in the poor house, where two stories in it alone had been the means of spiritual awakening and blessing. The weakly, clever little boy had with his reading brought reflection and joy into the house.When the schoolmaster went away, the lady pressed two or three silver dollars into his hand for the little Hans.“Father and mother must have them!” said Hans, when the schoolmaster brought the money.And Ole and Kirsten said, “Cripple Hans after all is a profit and a blessing.”Two or three days after, when the parents were at work at the big house, the squire’s carriage stopped outside. It was the kind-hearted lady who came, glad that her Christmas present had been such a comfort and pleasure for the boy and his parents. She brought with her fine bread, fruit, and a bottle of fruit syrup, but what was still more delightful she brought him, in a gilt cage, a little blackbird, which could whistle quite charmingly. The cage with the bird was set up on the old clothes-chest, a little bit away from the boy’s bed; he could see the bird and hear it; even the people out in the road could hear its song.Ole and Kirsten came home after the lady had driven away; they noticed how glad Hans was, but thought there would only be trouble with the present he had got.“Rich people don’t have much foresight!” said they. “Shall we now have that to look after also? Cripple Hans cannot do it. The end will be that the cat will take it!”Eight days passed, and still another eight days: the cat had in that time been often in the room without frightening the bird, to say nothing of hurting it. Then a great event happened. It was afternoon. The parents and the other children were at work, Hans was quite alone; he had the story-book in his hand, and read about the fisherwoman who got everything she wished for; she wished to be a king, and that she became; she wished to be an emperor, and that she became; but when she wished to become the good God, then she sat once more in the muddy ditch she had come from.The story had nothing to do with the bird or the cat, but it was just the story he was reading when the incident happened: he always remembered that afterwards.The cage stood on the chest, the cat stood on the floor and stared at the bird with his greeny-gold eyes. There was something in the cat’s face which seemed to say, “How lovely you are! How I should like to eat you!”Hans could understand that; he read it in the cat’s face.“Be off, cat!” he shouted, “will you go out of the room?” It seemed as if it were just about to spring. Hans could not get at him, and he had nothing else to throw at him but his dearest treasure, the story-book. He threw that, but the binding was loose, and it flew to one side, and the book itself with all its leaves flew to the other. The cat went with slow steps a little back into the room, and looked at Hans as much as to say, “Don’t mix yourself up in this affair, little Hans! I can walk, and I can spring, and you can do neither.”Hans kept his eye on the cat and was greatly distressed; the bird was also anxious. There was no one there to call; it seemed as if the cat knew it: it prepared itself again to spring. Hans shook the bed-cover at him; his hands he could use; but the cat paid no attention to the bed-cover; and when it was also thrown at him without avail, he sprang upon the chair and into the window-sill, where he was nearer to the bird. Hans could feel his own warm blood in himself, but he did not think of that, he thought only about the cat and the bird; the boy could not help himself out of bed, could not stand on his legs, still less walk. It seemed as if his heart turned inside him when he saw the cat spring from the window, right on to the chest and push the cage so that it was upset. The bird fluttered wildly about inside.Hans gave a scream; something gave a tug inside him, and without thinking about it, he jumped out of bed, flew across to the chest, tore the cat down, and got hold of the cage, where the bird was in a great fright. He held the cage in his hand and ran with it out of the door and out on to the road.Then the tears streamed out of his eyes; he shouted with joy, “I can walk! I can walk!”He had recovered his activity again; such things can happen, and it had happened to him.The schoolmaster lived close by; Hans ran in to him with his bare feet, with only his shirt and jacket on, and with the bird in the cage.“I can walk!” he shouted. “My God” and he sobbed and wept with joy.And there was joy in the house of Ole and Kirsten. “A more joyful day we could not see,” said both of them. Hans was called up to the big house; he had not gone that way for many years; it seemed as if the trees and the nut-bushes, which he knew so well, nodded to him and said, “Good day, Hans, welcome here!” The sun shone on his face as well as in his heart. The master and mistress let him sit with them, and looked as glad as if he had belonged to their own family.Gladdest of all was the lady, who had given him the story-book, given him the singing-bird, which was now as a matter of fact dead, dead of fright, but it had been the means of restoring him to health, and the book had brought the awakening of the parents: he had the book still, and he would keep it and read it if he were ever so old. Now he could be a benefit to those at home. He would learn a trade, by preference a bookbinder, “because,” said he, “I can get all the new books to read!”In the afternoon the lady called both parents up to her. She and her husband had talked together about Hans; he was a wise and clever boy: had pleasure in reading, and ability.That evening the parents came home joyfully from the farm, Kirsten in particular, but the week after she wept, for then little Hans went away: he was dressed in good clothes; he was a good boy; but now he must go away across the salt water, far away to school, and many years would pass before they would see him again.He did not get the story-book with him, the parents kept that for remembrance. And the father often read in it, but nothing except the two stories, for he knew them.And they got letters from Hans, each one gladder than the last. He was with fine people, in good circumstances, and it was most delightful to go to school; there was so much to learn and to know; he only wanted to remain there a hundred years and then be a schoolmaster.“If we should live to see it!” said the parents, and pressed each other’s hands, as if at communion.“To think of what has happened to Hans!” said Ole.Our Father thinks also of the poor man’s child! And that it should happen just with the cripple! Is it not as if Hans were to read it for us out of the story-book?
Patty the Milkmaid was going to market carrying her milk in a Pail on her head. As she went along she began calculating what she would do with the money she would get for the milk. “I’ll buy some fowls from Farmer Brown,” said she, “and they will lay eggs each morning, which I will sell to the parson’s wife. With the money that I get from the sale of these eggs I’ll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and when I go to market, won’t all the young men come up and speak to me! Polly Shaw will be that jealous; but I don’t care. I shall just look at her and toss my head like this. As she spoke she tossed her head back, the Pail fell off it, and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go home and tell her mother what had occurred. “Ah, my child,” said the mother, “Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.”
In Nicea, my beloved father-city, lived a man, whom people called “Little Muck.” Though at that time I was quite young, I can recollect him very well, particularly since, on one occasion, I was flogged almost to death, by my father, on his account. The Little Muck, even then, when I knew him, an old man, was nevertheless but three or four feet high: he had a singular figure, for his body, little and smart as it was, carried a head much larger and thicker than that of others. He lived all alone in a large house, and even cooked for himself; moreover, it would not have been known in the city whether he was alive or dead, (for he went forth but once in four weeks,) had not every day, about the hour of noon, strong fumes come forth from the house. Nevertheless, in the evening he was often to be seen walking to and fro upon his roof; although, from the street, it seemed as if it were his head alone that was running around there.I and my comrades were wicked fellows, who teased and ridiculed every one; accordingly, to us it was a holiday when the Little Muck went forth: on the appointed day we would assemble before his house, and wait for him to come out. When, then, the door opened, and at first the immense head and still larger turban peered forth, when the rest of the body followed covered with a small cloak which had been irregularly curtailed, with wide pantaloons, and a broad girdle in which hung a long dagger, so long that one could not tell whether Muck was fastened to the dagger, or the dagger to Muck—when in this guise he came forth, then would the air resound with our cries of joy; then would we fling our caps aloft, and dance round him, like mad. Little Muck, however, would salute us with a serious bow, and walk with long strides through the street, shuffling now and then his feet, for he wore large wide slippers, such as I have never elsewhere seen. We boys would run behind him, crying continually, “Little Muck! Little Muck!” We also had a droll little verse, which we would now and then sing in his honor; it ran thus:—“Little Muck, oh Little Muck! What a fine, brave dwarf art thou! Livest in a house so tall; Goest forth but once a month, Mountain-headed, though so small. Turn thyself but once, and look! Run, and catch us, Little Muck.”In this way had we often carried on our sport, and, to my shame, I must confess that I took the most wicked part in it, for I often plucked him by the mantle, and once trod from behind on his large slippers, so that he fell down. This was, at first, a source of the greatest amusement to me, but my laughter soon ceased when I saw the Little Muck go up to my father’s house; he walked straight in, and remained there some time. I concealed myself near the door, and saw Muck come forth again, escorted by my father, who respectfully shook his hand, and with many bows parted with him at the door. My mind was uneasy, and I remained some time in my concealment; at length, however, hunger, which I feared more than blows, drove me in, and ashamed and with downcast head, I walked in before my father.“Thou hast, as I hear, insulted the good Muck,” said he with a very serious tone. “I will tell thee the history of this Muck, and then I am sure thou wilt ridicule him no more. But first, thou shalt receive thy allowance.” The allowance was five-and-twenty lashes, which he took care to count only too honestly. He thereupon took a long pipe-stem, unscrewed the amber mouthpiece, and beat me more severely than he had ever done before.When the five-and-twenty were all made up, he commanded me to attend, and told me the following story of Little Muck.The father of Little Muck, who is properly called Mukrah, lived here in Nicea, a respectable, but poor man. He kept himself almost as retired as his son does now. The latter he could not endure, because he was ashamed of his dwarfish figure, and let him therefore grow up in perfect ignorance. When the Little Muck was still in his seventeenth year, a merry child, his father, a grave man, kept continually reproaching him, that he, who ought long before to have trodden down the shoes of infancy, was still so stupid and childish.The old man, however, one day had a bad fall, from the effects of which he died, and Little Muck was left behind, poor and ignorant. His cruel relations, to whom the deceased owed more than he could pay, turned the poor fellow out of the house, and advised him to go forth into the world, and seek his fortune. Muck answered that he was all ready, only asking them for his father’s dress, which they willingly granted him. His father had been a large, portly man, and the garments on that account did not fit him. Muck, however, soon hit upon an expedient; he cut off what was too long, and then put them on. He seemed, however, to have forgotten that he must also take from their width; hence the strange dress that he wears at the present day; the huge turban, the broad girdle, the wide breeches, the blue cloak, all these he has inherited from his father, and worn ever since. The long Damascus dagger of his father, too, he attached to his girdle, and seizing a little staff, set out from the door.Gayly he wandered, the whole day, for he had set out to seek his fortune: if he saw upon the ground a potsherd shining in the sunlight, he took care to pick it up, in the belief that he could change it into a diamond of the first water; if he saw in the distance the cupola of a Mosque sparkling like fire, or the sea glittering like a mirror, he would hasten up, fully persuaded that he had arrived at fairy-land. But ah! these phantoms vanished as he approached, and too soon fatigue, and his stomach gnawed by hunger, convinced him that he was still in the land of mortals. In this way he travelled two days, in hunger and grief, and despaired of finding his fortune; the produce of the field was his only support, the hard earth his bed. On the morning of the third day, he espied a large city upon an eminence. Brightly shone the crescent upon her pinnacles, variegated flags waved over the roofs, and seemed to be beckoning Little Muck to themselves. In surprise he stood still, contemplating the city and the surrounding country.“There at length will Klein-Muck find his fortune,” said he to himself, and in spite of his fatigue bounded in the air; “there or nowhere!” He collected all his strength, and walked towards the city. But although the latter seemed quite near, he could not reach it until mid-day, for his little limbs almost entirely refused him their assistance, and he was obliged to sit down to rest in the shade of a palm-tree. At last he reached the gate; he fixed the mantle jauntily, wound the turban still more tastily around his head, made the girdle broader, and arranged the dagger so as to fall still more obliquely: then, wiping the dust from his shoes, and seizing his cane, he marched bravely through the gate.He had already wandered through a few streets, but nowhere did any door open to him, nowhere did any one exclaim, as he had anticipated: “Little Muck, come in and eat and drink, and rest thy little feet.”He was looking very wistfully straight at a large fine house, when a window opened, and an old woman, putting out her head, exclaimed in a singing tone—“Hither, come hither! The porridge is here; The table I’ve spread, Come taste of my cheer. Hither, come hither! The porridge is hot; Your neighbors bring with you, To dip in the pot!”The door opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats walking in. For a moment he stood in doubt whether he should accept the invitation; at last, however, he took heart and entered the mansion. Before him proceeded a couple of genteel kittens, and he resolved to follow them, since they, perhaps, knew the way to the kitchen better than himself.When Muck had ascended the steps, he met the same old woman who had looked forth from the window. With frowning air she asked what he wanted.“Thou hast invited every one to thy porridge,” answered Little Muck, “and as I was very hungry, I came too.”The old woman laughed, saying, “Whence come you then, strange fellow? The whole city knows that I cook for no one but my dear cats, and now and then, as you see, I invite their companions from the neighborhood.” Little Muck told her how hard it had gone with him since his father’s death, and entreated her to let him dine, that day, with her cats. The old woman, on whom the frank relation of the little fellow made quite an impression, permitted him to become her guest, and gave him abundance to eat and drink. When he was satisfied and refreshed, she looked at him for some time, and then said:—“Little Muck, remain with me in my service; you will have little to do, and shall be well taken care of.” Muck, who had relished the cat-porridge, agreed, and thus became the servant of the Frau Ahavzi. His duties were light but singular: Frau Ahavzi had two male, and four female cats; every morning Little Muck had to comb their hair, and anoint them with costly ointment. When the Frau went out, he had to give them all his attention; when they ate, he placed their bowls before them; and, at night, he had to lay them on silken cushions, and wrap them up in velvet coverings. There were, moreover, a few little dogs in the house, on which he was obliged to wait; but there were not so many ceremonies gone through with these as with the cats, whom Frau Ahavzi treated as her own children. As for the rest, Muck led as retired a life as in his father’s house, for with the exception of the Frau, he saw every day only dogs and cats.For a long time it went very well with Little Muck; he had enough to eat, and but little to do; and the old woman seemed to be perfectly satisfied with him. But, by-and-by, the cats began to behave very badly; the moment the Frau went out, they ran around the rooms as if possessed, threw down every thing in confusion, and broke considerable fine crockery, which stood in their way. When, however, they heard their mistress coming up the steps, they would creep to their cushions, and wag their tails, when they saw her, as if nothing had happened. The Frau Ahavzi always fell in a passion when she saw her rooms so disordered, and attributed all to Muck; assert his innocence as he might, she believed her cats who looked so demure, in preference to her servant.Little Muck was very sorry that here also he had been disappointed in finding his fortune, and determined in his own mind to leave the service of the Frau Ahavzi. As, however, on his first journey, he had learned how badly one lives without money, he resolved to procure, in some way, for himself the wages which his mistress had once promised him, but had never paid. In the house of the Frau Ahavzi was a room, which was always closed, and the inside of which he had never seen. Nevertheless, he had often heard the Frau making a noise therein, and he would have willingly risked his life to know what was there concealed. Reflecting upon his travelling-money, it occurred to him that there his mistress might conceal her treasures. But the door was always tightly closed, and therefore he could not get at them.One morning, after the Frau Ahavzi had gone out, one of the little dogs who was treated by her in a very stepmother-like manner, but whose favor he had in a great degree gained by various acts of kindness, pulled him by his wide pantaloons, and acted as if he wanted Muck to follow him. Muck, who always gladly played with him, did so, and perceived that the dog was leading him to the sleeping apartment of his mistress; he stopped before a door, which the little fellow had never before observed, and which was now wide open. The dog entered, and Muck, following, was overjoyed at finding himself in the very chamber, which had so long been the object of his curiosity. He looked all around for money, but could find none: old garments only, and strangely-fashioned vases were scattered around. One of the latter, in particular, attracted his attention; it was of crystal, and fine figures were cut thereon. He lifted it up and turned it on all sides; but, oh horror! he had not observed that it had a lid, which was but insecurely fastened on: it fell to the floor, and broke into a thousand pieces.For a long time stood Little Muck motionless through terror; now was his fate decided, now must he fly, or be killed by the old woman. His departure was immediately resolved on; he only looked around, to see if he could not use some of the goods of the Frau Ahavzi upon his journey. Thereupon, a formidable pair of huge slippers met his eye; they were not, it is true, beautiful, but his own could hold out no longer; moreover their size was an inducement, for when he had these upon his feet, people would see, he hoped, that he had cast off the shoes of childhood. He quickly took off his own slippers, and put on the others. A walking-stick, also, with a fine lion’s head cut upon the handle, seemed to be standing too idly in the corner; so he seized it, and hurried from the apartment. He hastened to his own room, put on his cloak, arranged his paternal turban, placed the dagger in his girdle, and ran as fast as his feet would carry him, out of the house, and out of the city. Fear of his old mistress drove him farther and still farther, until, from fatigue, he could scarcely run any more. He had never gone so quickly in his life; nay, it appeared to him as if he could not cease running, for an invisible power seemed propelling him on. At last he observed that this must be connected with the slippers, for they would continually shoot forward and bear him along with them. He endeavored in various ways, to stand still, but could not succeed; at last, in the greatest distress, he cried out to himself, as a man calls to his horse, “Wo—wo!” Then the slippers stopped, and Muck fell exhausted upon the earth.The slippers were a source of great joy to him. Thus had he, by his services, gained something that would help him on his way through the world to seek his fortune. In spite of his joy, he fell asleep through fatigue; for the body of Little Muck, which had to carry so heavy a head, could not hold out long. In his dream the little dog appeared to him, which had assisted him to the slippers in the house of the Frau Ahavzi, and thus spoke:—“Dear Muck, thou dost not still rightly understand the use of the slippers: know that if, in them, thou turnest thyself three times around upon the heel, thou canst fly wherever thou wilt; and with the staff thou canst find treasures, for, wherever gold is buried, it will beat three times upon the earth; where silver, twice.”Thus dreamed Little Muck. When he awoke, he reflected on the singular vision, and resolved to make the experiment immediately. He put on the slippers, lifted one foot, and began to turn around upon his heel. But whoever has attempted to perform this manœuvre in an enormously wide slipper, will not wonder that the Little Muck could not succeed, particularly when he remembers that his heavy head kept falling on this side and on that.The poor little fellow fell several times violently upon his nose; nevertheless, that did not deter him from making the trial again, and at last he succeeded. Like a wheel he went around upon his heel, wishing himself in the nearest large city, and—the slippers mounted into the air, ran with the speed of the wind through the clouds, and before Little Muck knew what to make of it, he found himself in a large market-place, where many stalls were erected, and innumerable men were busily running to and fro. He moved among the people, but considered it more prudent to retire into a less frequented street, for near the market one of the slippers bore him along so rapidly, that he almost fell down, or else ran against one and another with his projecting dagger, so that it was with difficulty he avoided their blows.Little Muck now seriously reflected what he should set about, in order to earn a piece of money. He had, it is true, a staff which would show him concealed treasures, but how could he find a place where gold or silver was buried. He could, indeed, in this emergency, have exhibited himself for money, but for this he was too proud. At last the quickness of his gait occurred to him. Perhaps, thought he, my slippers can procure me support, and he determined to hire himself out as a courier. He ventured to hope that the king of the city rewarded such service well, so he inquired for the palace. Before the door of the palace stood a guard, who asked him what he sought there. On answering that he was in search of service, they led him to the overseer of the slaves. Before this one he laid his request, and entreated that he might be admitted among the royal couriers. The overseer measured him with his eyes from head to foot, and said: “How! with thy little feet, which are scarcely a span long, wishest thou to become a royal messenger? Away with thee! I cannot play with every fool.”Little Muck assured him, however, that his proposal was made in perfect seriousness, and that he would let it come to a trial with the swiftest, upon a wager. The matter seemed very ludicrous to the overseer. He commanded him to hold himself in readiness for a race in the afternoon, and leading him into the kitchen, saw that he was furnished with proper meat and drink. He himself, however, repaired unto the king, and told him of the little man and his proposal. The king was a merry lord, and therefore it pleased him well that the overseer had kept the little man for their amusement. He directed him to make preparations in a large meadow behind the castle, that the race might be conveniently beheld by his whole court, and once more commanded him to take great care of the dwarf. The king told his princes, and princesses, what a pastime they were to enjoy that afternoon; these told it again to their attendants, and when the time arrived all were in great expectation; and as many as had feet poured into the meadow, where a scaffolding had been erected, in order to see the boastful dwarf run.As soon as the king and his sons and daughters had taken their places upon the platform, the Little Muck walked forth upon the meadow, and made before the noble sovereign a very elegant bow. A universal cry of joy arose, the moment they beheld the little fellow; such a figure had they never seen. The small body with the mighty head, the little cloak, and the wide pantaloons, the long dagger in the broad girdle, the tiny feet in the immense slippers—no! it was so droll a sight they could not keep from laughing aloud. Little Muck, however, was not disconcerted by their laughter. He proudly walked forward, supported by his cane, and awaited his opponent. At Muck’s own desire, the overseer of the slaves had selected the best runner. Walking in, he placed himself near the dwarf, and both looked for the signal. Thereupon the Princess Amarza made a sign with her veil as had been preconcerted, and, like two arrows shot from the same bow, the racers flew over the meadow.At first the courier took a tremendous bound, but Muck pursued him in his slipper carriage, overtook him, passed him, and had been standing for some time at the goal, when his opponent, gasping for breath, ran up. Amazement for a few moments enchained the spectators: the king was the first to clap his hands; then shouted the crowd for joy, all exclaiming, “Long live the Little Muck, the victor in the race!”Meanwhile they had brought up the little man; he prostrated himself before the king, saying, “Most mighty King, I have here given thee but a small proof of my powers; allow them, I pray thee, to give me a place among thy couriers.” The king answered:—“Nay, dear Muck, thou shalt be my favorite messenger, and shalt remain about my person; every year shalt thou have a hundred gold pieces as thy wages, and thou shalt sup at the table of my first attendant.”Then Muck thought he had at last found the fortune, of which he had so long been in search, and was merry and light-hearted. Moreover, he rejoiced in the peculiar favor of the king, for the latter employed him on his quickest and most secret errands, which he performed with the greatest care, and with inconceivable rapidity.But the other attendants of the king were not well affected towards him, because they reluctantly saw themselves displaced from their lord’s favor by a dwarf, who knew how to do nothing, but to run fast. They set on foot many a conspiracy against him in order to work his destruction, but all failed, through the confidence which the king placed in his private Oberleibläufer, (for to this dignity had he in so short a time arrived.)Muck, upon whom these movements against himself produced no effect, thought not of revenge; for that he had too good a heart: no, he reflected upon the means of making himself necessary to his enemies, and beloved by them. Thereupon the staff, which in his good fortune he had forgotten, occurred to him; if he could find treasures, he thought the lords would be more favorably disposed towards him. He had before this often heard that the father of the present king had buried much of his gold, when the enemy had invaded the land; they said, moreover, that he had died without imparting the secret to his son. From this time Muck always carried his cane, in the hope that he would some time pass over the place where the money of the old king was buried.One evening, chance led him into a remote portion of the castle-garden, which he seldom visited, when suddenly he felt the staff move in his hand, and three times it beat upon the ground. He knew in an instant what this indicated; accordingly he drew forth his dagger, made marks on the surrounding trees, and then slipped back into the castle. Then he procured a spade, and awaited night for his undertaking.Treasure-digging, however, gave Muck more trouble than he had anticipated. His arms were very feeble, his spade large and heavy; he might perhaps have been laboring a couple of hours, without getting any farther down than as many feet. At length he hit upon something hard, which sounded like iron: he then set to work still more diligently, and soon brought up a large cover; he then descended into the hole, in order to examine what the cover concealed, and found a large pot completely full of gold pieces. His feeble wisdom, however, did not teach him to lift up the pot; but he put in his pantaloons and girdle as much as he could carry, filled his cloak, and then carefully covering up the rest, placed the load upon his back. But, indeed, if he had not had the slippers on his feet, he could not have stirred, so heavily did the gold weigh him down. Then, unobserved, he reached his room, and secured the money under the cushions of his sofa.When the little man saw so much gold in his possession, he thought the tables would now be turned, and that from among his enemies at court, he could gain many well-wishers and warm friends. But even in this, one could see that the good Muck had enjoyed no very careful education; otherwise he would not have imagined that he could buy true friends with gold. Ah! that he had then put on his slippers, and with his mantle full of gold, scampered away!The gold which from this time Little Muck distributed with lavish hand, awakened the envy of the other court-attendants. The kitchen-master, Ahuli, said, “He is a counterfeiter.” The slave-overseer, Achmet, said, “He has cajoled the king.” But Archaz, the treasurer, his most wicked enemy, who himself, even, now and then put his hand into his lord’s coffers, exclaimed, “He is a thief.” In order to be sure of the thing, they consulted together, and the head cup-bearer, Korchuz, placed himself one day, with a very sorrowful and depressed air, before the eyes of the king. He made his wo so apparent, that the king asked him what was the matter.“Ah!” answered he, “I am sorry that I have lost the favor of my lord!”“Why talkest thou idly, friend Korchuz?” rejoined the monarch. “Since when have I veiled from thee the sun of my favor?”The cup-bearer answered, that he loaded his private Oberleibläufer with money, but gave his poor faithful servants nothing. The king was much astonished at this accusation, had the story of Muck’s gold-distribution told him, and the conspirators soon aroused in him the suspicion that the dwarf had, in some way or other, stolen the money from the treasure-chamber. Very pleasant was this turn of the matter to the treasurer, who would not otherwise have willingly submitted his accounts to examination. The king thereupon commanded that they should secretly watch all the movements of the dwarf, in order, if possible, to surprise him in the act. When, now, on the night which followed the fatal day, seeing his funds almost exhausted by his generosity, Muck crept forth, with his spade, into the castle-garden, to bring new supplies from his secret treasury, the watch followed him in the distance, led by Ahuli and Archaz; and, at the moment when he was removing the gold from the pot to his cloak, they fell upon him, bound him, and immediately led him before the king. The latter, whom, independently of any thing else, this interruption of his sleep would have enraged, received his poor dwarf very ungraciously, and ordered an immediate trial. Meanwhile they had dug the full pot out of the ground, and with the spade and cloak full of gold had placed it before the king. The treasurer said that he had surprised Muck with his guard, just as he had buried this vessel of gold in the earth.The king thereupon inquired of the accused, whether it was true, and whence the gold had come.Little Muck, conscious of innocence, answered that he had discovered this pot in the garden; that he had not buried it, but had brought it to light.All present laughed aloud at this defence; the king, however, provoked in the highest degree by the supposed impudence of the dwarf, exclaimed, “How, wretch! wilt thou so stupidly and shamelessly lie to thy king, after having stolen from him? Treasurer Archaz, I command thee to say whether thou knowest this sum of gold to be the same that is missing from my treasury.”The treasurer thereupon answered that he was sure of the thing; that so much and even more had been missing from the royal treasures; and he could take his oath that this was the stolen money. Then the king commanded them to place Little Muck in galling chains, and convey him to prison: to Archaz, however, he gave the gold, that he might restore it to the treasury. Delighted at the fortunate issue of the matter, the officer took it, and counted out, at home, the glittering gold pieces; but the bad man never disclosed that down in the pot lay a letter, to the following purport:—“The enemy has overrun my land; therefore I here conceal a portion of my treasure. Whoever may find it, the curse of his king fall upon him, if he do not immediately deliver it to my son!King Sadi.”In his dungeon, poor Muck gave way to sorrowful reflections; he knew that for taking royal property death was the penalty; and yet—he could not betray the secret of his staff unto the king, because, in that case, he justly feared being deprived of both that, and his slippers. His slippers, alas! could render him no help, for there by close fetters he was fastened to the wall, and, torment himself as he might, he could not turn around upon his heel. When, however, on the next day, sentence of death was pronounced, he thought it would be better to live without the magic staff, than to die with it; and, having asked a private audience with the king, disclosed to him the secret. At first the king gave no credit to his assertions, but Little Muck promised him a proof, if he would respite him from death. The king gave him his word upon it, and having had some gold buried in the earth, unseen by Muck, commanded him to find it with his cane. In a few moments he succeeded in doing so, for the staff beat three times distinctly upon the ground. Then the king saw that his treasurer had betrayed him, and sent him, as is customary in the East, a silken cord, wherewith he should strangle himself. To Little Muck, however, he said:—“I have indeed promised thee thy life, but it seems to me that this is not the only secret thou art possessed of, connected with this staff. Therefore thou shalt remain in everlasting captivity, if thou do not confess what relation exists between it and thy rapid running.”Little Muck, whom one night in his dungeon had deprived of all desire for further confinement, acknowledged that his whole art lay in the slippers; nevertheless, he informed not the king of the wonderful effect of turning three times upon the heel. The king put on the slippers, himself, in order to make the experiment, and ran, like mad, through the garden; often did he wish to hold up, but he knew not how to bring the slippers to a halt, and Muck, who could not deny himself this revenge, let him run on, until he fell down exhausted.When the king returned to consciousness, he was terribly angry at Little Muck, who had suffered him to run until so entirely out of breath. “I have promised thee thy freedom and life,” said he, “but within twelve hours must thou leave my land; otherwise will I have thee hung.” The slippers and cane, however, he commanded them to bear to his treasure-chamber.Thus, poor as ever, wandered the little fellow forth through the land, cursing the folly which had led him astray, and prevented his playing an important part at court. The land from which he was banished, was fortunately not extensive, and accordingly eight hours brought him to the frontier; but travelling, now that he was used to his dear slippers, came very hard to him. Having arrived at the border, he chose the usual road for reaching the most lonely part of the forest, for he hated all men, and resolved to live there by himself. In a thick portion of the wood, he lighted on a place, which seemed to him quite suitable for the resolution he had taken. A clear brook, surrounded by large shady fig-trees, and a soft turf, invited him: he threw himself down, determined to taste food no more, but calmly to await his end. Amid his sorrowful reflections on death, he fell asleep; when he awoke, he was tormented by hunger, and began to think that starving to death was rather an unpleasant affair; so he looked around to find something to eat.Fine ripe figs hung upon the tree beneath which he had slept; he stretched forth his hand to pluck some; their taste was delicious, and then he descended into the brook to slake his thirst. But what was his horror, when the water showed his head adorned with two immense ears, and a long thick nose! Amazed, he clapped his hands upon his ears, and they were really more than half an ell long.“I deserve ass’s ears!” he exclaimed; “for, like an ass, have I trodden Fortune under my feet.” He wandered around among the trees, and feeling hunger again, was obliged to have recourse once more to the fig-tree, for he could find nothing else that was eatable. After the second portion of figs, it struck him that if his ears could find room beneath his large turban, he would not look so ridiculous, and, on trying it, he found that his ears had vanished. He ran straight back to the stream, in order to convince himself thereof; it was actually so; his ears had resumed their original figure, his long misshapen nose was no more! He soon perceived how all this had happened; from the first fig-tree he had received the long nose and ears, the second had relieved him of them: he saw with joy that kind destiny yet again placed in his hands the means of becoming fortunate. He plucked, therefore, from each tree as many figs as he could carry, and went back to the land which shortly before he had left. There, in the first town, he disguised himself by means of different garments; then, turning again to the city inhabited by the king, he soon arrived at it.For about a year ripe fruit had been quite scarce; Little Muck, therefore, placed himself before the gate of the palace, for from his former residence there, it was well known to him, that here such rareties would be purchased by the kitchen-master for the royal table. Muck had not long been seated, when he saw that dignitary walking across the court-yard. He examined the articles of the traders who had placed themselves at the palace-gate; at length his eye fell upon Muck’s little basket.“Ah! a dainty morsel!” said he, “which will certainly please his majesty: what wish you for the whole basket?” Muck set a high price upon them, and the bargain was soon struck. The kitchen-master gave the basket to his slave, and went his way: meantime Little Muck stole away, for he feared, when the change should show itself on the heads of the court, that he, as the one who sold them, would be sought for punishment.At table the king was well pleased, and praised his kitchen-master more than ever, on account of his good kitchen, and the care with which he always sought the rarest morsels for his table; the officer, however, who well knew what dainties he had in the back-ground, smiled pleasantly, and let fall but few words: “The day is not all past till evening,” or “End good, all good;” so that the princesses were very curious to know what he would still bring on. The moment, however, he had the fine, inviting figs set upon the table, a universal “Ah!” escaped the lips of those who were present. “How ripe! how delicate!” exclaimed the king; “kitchen-master, thou art a whole-souled man, and deservest our peculiar favor!” Thus speaking, the king, who with such choice dishes took care to be very sparing, with his own hands distributed the figs around the table. Each prince and princess received two; the ladies of the court, the Viziers and Agas, each one; the rest he placed before himself, and began to swallow them with great delight.“In the name of heaven, father, why lookest thou so strange?” suddenly exclaimed the Princess Amarza. All gazed in astonishment upon the king; vast ears hung down from his head, a long nose stretched itself bridge-like, over above his chin; upon themselves also they looked, one upon another, with amazement and horror; all, more or less, were adorned with the same strange headdress.The horror of the court may be imagined. All the physicians in the city were immediately sent for; they came with a blustering air, prescribed pills and mixtures, but ears and noses remained. They operated on one of the princes, but the ears grew out again.From the place of concealment into which he had withdrawn, Muck had heard the whole story, and perceived that it was now time for him to commence operations. He had already, with the money obtained by the sale of his figs, procured a dress which would represent him as a learned man; a long beard of goat’s hair completed the illusion. With a small sack full of figs he repaired to the royal palace, and offered his assistance as a foreign physician. At first they were quite incredulous; but when Little Muck gave a fig to one of the princes, and thereby restored ears and nose to their original shape, then were all eager to be cured by the stranger. But the king took him silently by the hand, and led him to his apartment; then, opening a door that led into the treasure-chamber, he made signs to Muck to follow.“Here are my treasures,” said the king; “choose for thyself: whatever it may be, it shall be thine, if thou wilt free me from this shameful evil.” This was sweet music in the ears of Little Muck: at the moment of entering he had seen his slippers standing upon the floor, and hard by lay his little staff. He moved around the room, as if in wonder at the royal treasures; but no sooner had he reached his beloved shoes, than he hastily slipped into them, and seizing the little cane, tore off his false beard, and displayed to the astonished king the well-known countenance of his exiled Muck.“False king!” said he, “who rewardest faithful service with ingratitude, take, as well-deserved punishment, the deformity which thou now hast. The ears I leave thee, that, each day they may remind thee of Little Muck.” Having thus spoken, he turned quickly around upon his heel, wished himself far away, and before the king could call for help Little Muck had vanished. Ever since, he has lived here in great affluence, but alone, for men he despises. Experience has made him a wise man—one who, though there is something offensive in his exterior, deserves rather your admiration than your ridicule.Such was my father’s story. I assured him that I sincerely repented of my behavior towards the good little man, and he remitted the other half of the punishment which he had intended for me. To my comrades I told the wonderful history of the dwarf, and we conceived such an affection for him, that no one insulted him any more. On the contrary, we honored him as long as he lived, and bowed as low to him as to Cadi or Mufti.The travelers determined to rest a day in this inn, in order to refresh themselves and their beasts for the rest of their journey. The gaiety of the day before again prevailed, and they diverted themselves with various sports. After the meal, however, they called upon the fifth merchant, Ali Sizah, to perform his duty to the rest, and give them a story. He answered, that his life was too poor in remarkable adventures for him to relate one connected therewith, but he would tell them something which had no relation to it: “The story of the False Prince.”
Fisherman Plunk was sick and tired of his miserable life. He lived alone by the desolate sea-shore, and every day he caught fish with a bone hook, because they didn’t know about nets in those parts at that time. And how much fish can you catch with a hook, anyhow?“What a dog’s life it is, to be sure!” cried Plunk to himself. “What I catch in the morning I eat up at night, and there’s no joy for me in this world at all, at all.”And then Plunk heard that there were also rich sheriffs in the land, and men of great power and might, who lived in luxury and comfort, lapped in gold and fed on truffles. Then Plunk fell a-thinking how he too might come to look upon such riches and live in the midst of them. So he made up his mind that for three whole days he would sit still in his boat on the sea and not take any fish at all, but see if that spell would help him.So Plunk sat for three days and nights in his boat on the face of the sea—three days he sat there, three days he fasted, for three days he caught no fish. When the third day began to dawn, lo and behold, a silver boat arose from the sea—a silver boat with golden oars—and in the boat, fair as a king’s daughter, stood the Pale Dawn-Maiden.“For three days you have spared my little fishes’ lives,” said the Dawn-Maiden, “and now tell me what you would like me to do for you?”“Help me out of this miserable and dreary life. Here am I all day long slaving away in this desolate place. What I catch during the day I eat up at night, and there is no joy for me in the world at all, at all,” said Plunk.“Go home,” said the Dawn-Maiden, “and you will find what you need.” And as she spoke, she sank in the sea, silver boat and all.Plunk hurried back to the shore and then home. When he came to the house, a poor orphan girl came out to meet him, all weary with the long tramp across the hills. The girl said: “My mother is dead, and I am all alone in the world. Take me for your wife, Plunk.”Plunk hardly knew what to do. “Is this the good fortune which the Dawn-Maiden has sent me?” Plunk could see that the girl was just a poor body like himself; on the other hand, he was afraid of making a mistake and turning away his luck. So he consented, and took the poor girl to be his wife; and she, being very tired, lay down and slept till the morning.Plunk could scarcely await the next day for wondering how his good fortune would show itself. But nothing happened that day except that Plunk took his hook and went out fishing, and the Woman went up the hill to gather wild spinach. Plunk came home at night, and so did the Woman, and they supped upon fish and wild spinach. “Eh, if that is all the good luck there is to it, I could just as well have done without,” thought Plunk.As the evening wore on, the Woman sat down beside Plunk to tell him stories, to wile away the time for him. She told him about nabobs and kings’ castles, about dragons that watch treasure-hoards, and kings’ daughters who sow their gardens with pearls and reap gems. Plunk listened, and his heart within him began to sing for joy. Plunk forgot that he was poor; he could have sat and listened to her for three years together. But Plunk was still better pleased when he considered: “She is a fairy wife. She can show me the way to the dragons’ hoards or the kings’ gardens. I need only be patient and not make her angry.”So Plunk waited; and day after day went by, a year went by, two years passed. A little son was born to them; they called him little Winpeace. Yet all went on as usual. Plunk caught fish, and his wife gathered wild spinach in the mountains. In the evening she cooked the supper, and after supper she rocked the baby and told Plunk stories. Her stories grew prettier and prettier, and Plunk found it harder and harder to wait, till at last, one evening, he had had enough of it; and just as his wife was telling him about the immense treasures of the Sea King, Plunk jumped up in a rage, shook her by the arm and cried:“I tell you I’ll wait no longer. To-morrow in the morning you shall take me down to the Sea King’s Castle!”The Woman was quite frightened when Plunk jumped up like that. She told him that she did not know where the Sea King had his Castle; but Plunk began to beat his poor wife most unmercifully, and threatened to kill her unless she told him her fairy secret.Then the poor girl understood that Plunk had taken her for a fairy. She burst into tears and cried:“Truly I am no fairy, but a poor orphan girl who knows no spells nor magic. And for the tales I have told you, I had them from my own heart to beguile your weariness.”Now this only put Plunk all the more in a rage, because he had lived in a fool’s paradise for over two years; and he angrily bade the Woman go away next morning ere dawn with the child, along the sea-shore to the right-hand side, and he, Plunk, would go to the left, and she was not to come back again till she had found the way to the Sea King’s Castle.When the dawn came, the Woman wept and begged Plunk not to send her away. “Who knows where one of us may be destroyed on this desolate sea-shore?” said she. But Plunk fell upon her again, so that she took up her child and went away crying whither her husband had bidden her. And Plunk went off in the opposite direction.So the Woman went on with her baby, little Winpeace. She went on for a week; she went on for a fortnight, and nowhere did she find the way to the Sea King. She grew so terribly tired that one day she fell asleep on a stone beside the sea. When she woke up, her baby was gone—her little Winpeace.Her grief was so great that the tears froze fast in her heart, and not a word could she speak for sorrow, but became dumb from that hour.So the poor dumb creature wandered back along the sea-shore and home. And next day Plunk came home, too. He had not found the way to the Sea King, and he came back disappointed and cross.When he got home, there was no baby Winpeace, and his wife had gone dumb. She could not tell him what had happened, but was all haggard with the great trouble.And so it was with them from that day forward. The Woman neither wept nor complained, but did her housework and waited upon Plunk in silence; and the house was still and quiet as the grave. For some time Plunk stood it, but in the end he got thoroughly weary. He had just felt almost sure of the Sea King’s treasure, and lo! all this trouble and worry had come upon him.So Plunk made up his mind to try his sea-spell once more. Again for three whole days he sat in his boat on the sea, for three days he fasted, for three days he caught no fish. At the third day, at daybreak, the Dawn-Maiden arose before him.Plunk told her what had happened, and complained bitterly.“I’m worse off than ever before. The baby is gone, the wife is dumb, and my house dreary as the grave, and I’m just about bursting with trouble.”To this the Dawn-Maiden said never a word, but just asked Plunk a question:“What do you want? I will help you just this once more.”But Plunk was such a zany that he couldn’t think of anything else but just this, that he was set on seeing and enjoying the Sea King’s treasure; and so he didn’t wish for his child back again, or that his wife should regain the power of speech, but he begged the Dawn-Maiden:“Fair Dawn-Maiden,” said he, “show me the way to the Sea King.”And again the Dawn-Maiden said nothing, but very kindly set Plunk on his way:“When day dawns at the next New Moon, get into your boat, wait for the wind, and then drift eastward with the wind. The wind will carry you to the Isle Bountiful, to the stone Gold-a-Fire. And there I shall be waiting for you to show you the way to the Sea King.”Plunk went joyfully home.When it was about the New Moon (but he never told his wife anything) he went out at the streak of dawn, got into his boat, waited for the wind, and let the wind carry him away toward the east.The wind caught the boat and carried it along to the Unknown Sea, to the Isle Bountiful. Like a green garden the fruitful island floats upon the sea. The grass grows rank, and the meadows lush, the vines are full of grapes and the almondtrees pink with blossom. In the midst of the island there is precious stone, the white blazing stone Gold-a-Fire. One half of the stone sheds its glow upon the island, and the other half lights up the sea under the island. And there on the Isle Bountiful, on the stone Gold-a-Fire, sits the Dawn-Maiden.Very kindly did the Dawn-Maiden receive Plunk, very kindly she set him on his way. She showed him a mill-wheel drifting on the sea towards the island, and the mermaids dancing in a ring around the wheel. Then she told him—always very kindly—how he must ask the mill-wheel politely to take him down to the Sea King and not let the Dark Deeps of the Sea swallow him.Last of all the Dawn-Maiden said:“Great store of gold and treasure will you enjoy in the Sea King’s domain. But mark—to earth you cannot return, for three terrible watchers bar the way. One troubles the waves, the second raises the storm, and the third wields the lightning.”But Plunk was happy as a grig in his boat as he paddled towards the mill-wheel, and thought to himself:“It’s easy to see, fair Dawn-Maiden, that you’ve never known want in this world. I shan’t hanker back after this earth, where I’m leaving nothing but ill-luck behind!”So he paddled up to the mill-wheel, where round the mill-wheel the mermaids were playing their foolish games. They dived and chased each other through the water; their long hair floated on the waves, their silver fins glittered, and their red lips smiled. And they sat on the mill-wheel and made the sea all foamy around it.The boat reached the mill-wheel, and Plunk did as the Dawn-Maiden had told him. He held his paddle aloft so that the Dark Deeps should not swallow him, and he politely asked the mill-wheel:“Round wheel giddy-go-round, please take me down, either to the Dead Dark Deep or to the Sea King’s Palace.”As Plunk said this, the mermaids came swishing along like so many silver fish, swarmed round the mill-wheel, seized the spokes in their snowy hands, and began to turn the wheel—swiftly, giddily.An eddy formed in the sea—a fierce eddy, a terrible whirlpool. The whirlpool caught Plunk; it swept him round like a twig, and sucked him down to the Sea King’s fastness.Plunk’s ears were still ringing with the swirl of the sea and the mermaids’ silly laughter when he suddenly found himself sitting on beautiful sand—fine sand of pure gold.Plunk looked round and cried out: “Ho, there’s a wonder for you! A whole field of golden sand.”Now what Plunk had taken to be a big field was only the great Hall of the Sea King. Round the Hall stood the sea like a marble wall, and above the Hall hung the sea, like a glass dome. Down from the stone Gold-a-Fire streamed a bluish glare, livid and pale as moonlight. From the ceiling hung festoons of pearls, and on the floor below stood tables of coral.And at the end—the far end, where slender pipes were piping and tiny bells tinkling—there lazed and lounged the Sea King himself; he stretched his limbs on the golden sand, raising only his great bullock’s head, beside him a coral table, and behind him a golden hedge.What with the quick, shrill music of the pipes, the tinkling of the bells, and the sheen and glimmer all around him, Plunk wouldn’t have believed there could be so much pleasure or wealth in the world!Plunk went clean mad for pure joy—joy went to his head like strong wine; his heart sang; he clapped his hands; he skipped about the golden sand like a frolicsome child; he turned head over heels once, twice, and again—just like a jolly boy.Now this amused the Sea King vastly. For the Sea King’s feet are heavy—far too heavy—and his great bullock’s head is heavier still. The Sea King guffawed as he lounged on the golden sand; he laughed so heartily that the golden sand blew up all round him.“You’re fine and light on your feet, my boy,” said the Sea King, and he reached up and pulled down a branch of pearls and gave it to Plunk. And then the Sea King ordered the Under Seas Fairies to bring choice viands and honeyed drink in golden vessels. And Plunk had leave to sit beside the Sea King at the coral table, and surely that was a great honour!When Plunk had dined, the Sea King asked him:“Is there anything else you would like, my man?”Now what should a poor man ask for, who had never known what it is to have a good time? But Plunk was hungry from his long journey, and he had made but a poor meal of it off the choice viands and the honeyed drinks. So he said to the Sea King:“Just as you were saying that, O King of the Sea, I was wishing that I had a good helping of boiled wild spinach.”The Sea King was rather surprised, but he recovered himself quickly, laughed and said to Plunk:“Eh, brother of mine, wild spinach is very dear down here, dearer than pearls and mother-o’-pearl, because it’s a long way from here to the place where it grows. But since you have just asked for it, I will send a Foam Fairy to bring you some from the land where the wild spinach grows. But you must turn three more coach-wheels for me.”As Plunk was already in the best of humours he didn’t find that hard either. Lightly he leapt to his feet, and quickly they all flocked round him, the mermaids and the tiny folk in the Palace, and all for to see that wonder!Plunk took a run over the golden sand, turned a beautiful coach-wheel, then a second and a third, light as a squirrel, and the Sea King and all the tiny folk rocked with laughter at such cunning.But heartiest of all laughed a little baby, and that was the little King whom the mermaids themselves had crowned King for fun and idle sport. The wee baby was sitting up in a golden cradle. His little shirt was of silk, the cradle was hung with tiny bells of pearl, and in his hands the child held a golden apple.While Plunk was turning coach-wheels and the little King laughed so heartily, Plunk looked round at him. He looked at the little King, and then—Plunk started. It was his own baby boy, little Winpeace.Well, Plunk was suddenly disgusted. He would never have guessed that he would grow sick of it so soon.Plunk frowned; he was angry, and when he had got over his shock a bit he thought:“Look at him, the urchin, how he’s got on, lording it here in idleness and sport, and his mother at home gone dumb with grieving!”Plunk was vexed; he hated seeing himself or the child in this Palace; yet he dared not say a word, lest they should part him from the boy. So he made himself the servant of his son, of little Winpeace, and thought to himself: “Perhaps I shall be left alone with him sometimes. Then I will remind the boy of his Father and Mother; I will run away with him; I will carry off the little brat and go back with him to his mother.”So thought Plunk, and one fine day, when he happened to be alone with the little King, he whispered to the child: “Come along, my boy; let’s run away with father.”But Winpeace was only a baby, and what with living so long under the sea, he had quite forgotten his father. He laughed; the little King laughed. He thought: “Plunk is making fun,” and he kicked Plunk with his little foot.“You are not my father; you are the silly-billy who turns head over heels before the Sea King.”That stung Plunk to the heart, so that he well-nigh died with the pain of it. He went out and wept for sheer bitter sorrow. All the Sea King’s attendants gathered round him and said one to the other:“Well, well, he must have been a great lord on earth, to weep amid such splendours.”“Upon my soul,” cried Plunk wrathfully, “I was the same as your Sea King here. I had a son who tugged my beard, a wife who showed me marvels, and wild spinach, brothers, as much as you want—and no need to turn coach-wheels before anybody either.”The sea-folk marvelled at such magnificence, and left Plunk to mourn his lost greatness. But Plunk went on serving the little King. He did all he could to please the boy, thinking: “I shall get him somehow to run away with me.” But the little King grew sillier and more wayward every day; the days passed, and every day the child only thought Plunk more than ever a zany.Now all this time Plunk’s wife was at home, all alone and grieving. The first evening she made up the fire and kept the supper hot for Plunk; but when she gave up expecting Plunk, she let the fire go out, nor did she kindle it again.So the poor dumb soul sat on her threshold. She neither worked, nor tidied, nor wept, nor lamented, but just pined away with grief and sorrow. She could not take counsel with anyone, because she was dumb; nor could she cross the sea after Plunk, because she was all broken up with grieving.Where could she go, poor soul! but back one day to the far hills, where her mother lay buried. And as she stood by her mother’s grave a beautiful Hind up came to her.And as the dumb animals speak, so the Hind spoke to the Woman:“You must not sit there and pine away, my daughter, for else your heart will break and your house will perish. But every evening you must get Plunk’s supper ready for him, and after supper you must unpick some fine hemp. If Plunk does not come home, then you must take his supper in the morning and the fine hemp as well, and also the slender twin pipes, and go up into the rocky mountain. Play upon the twin pipes; the snakes and their young will come and eat up the supper, and the sea-fowl will line their nests with the hemp.”Full well the daughter understood all that her mother said, and as she was bid so did she do. Every evening she cooked supper, and after supper she unpicked hemp. Plunk did not come back; and so the Woman took her little twin pipes in the morning, and carried both supper and hemp to the rocky mountain. And as she played on her little pipes, played softly on the right-hand pipe, lo, snakes and baby snakes came out of the rocks. They ate up the supper and thanked the Woman in the dumb speech. And when she played on the left-hand pipe, lo, gulls great and small came flying, carried off the hemp to their nests, and thanked the Woman.For three months the Woman went on in this way; thrice the moon waxed and waned, and still Plunk had not come home.Again grief overcame the poor dumb soul, so that she went again to her mother’s grave.The Hind came up, and in dumb speech the Woman said to her:“Well, Mother, I have done all you told me, and Plunk has not come back. I am weary of waiting. Shall I throw myself into the sea, or fling myself down from the cliffs?”“Daughter of mine,” said the Hind, “you must not fail in your trust. Your Plunk is in grievous trouble. Now listen and hear how you may help him. In the Unknown Sea there is a Big Bass, and that Bass has a golden fin, and on that fin grows a golden apple. If you catch that Bass by moonlight you will deliver your dear Plunk from his trouble. But on the road to the Unknown Sea you will have to pass three caverns of cloud. In the first there is a monstrous Snake, the Mother of All Snakes—it is she who troubles the sea and stirs up the waves; in the second there is a monstrous Bird, the Mother of All Birds—it is she who raises the storm; and in the third there is a Golden Bee—it is she who flashes and wields the lightning. Go, daughter dear, to the Unknown Sea, and take nothing with you but your bone hook and slender twin pipes, and if you should find yourself in great trouble, rip open your right-hand sleeve, all white and unhemmed.”The daughter gave good heed. Next day she took out the boat and put off to sea, taking nothing with her but her hook and the slender twin pipes.She drifted and sailed on the face of the sea till the waters bore her to a far-off place, and there on the sea, lo, three terrible caverns of lowering cloud!From the entrance of the first cavern peered the head of a fearsome Snake, the Mother of All Snakes. Her grisly head blocked up all the entrance, her body lay coiled along the cave, and with her monstrous tail she lashed the sea, troubling the waters and stirring up the waves.The Woman did not dare go near the terrible sight, but remembered her little pipes, and began to play upon the right-hand pipe. And as she played, there came from the far-off, rock-bound lands snakes and baby snakes galore swimming over the sea. Great coloured snakes and tiny little snakes all came hurrying up and scurrying up and begged the fearsome Snake—“Let the Woman take her boat through your cavern, Mother dear! She has done us a great good turn and fed us every day in the morning.”“Through my cavern I may not let her pass,” answered the fearsome Snake, “for to-day I must stir up the waves of the sea. But if she did you such a good turn, I will repay it with another. Would she rather have a bar of gold or six strings of pearls?”But a true wife is not to be beguiled with gold or pearls, and so the Woman answered in dumb speech:“’Tis only for a small matter I have come here—for the Bass that lives in the Unknown Sea. If I have done you a good turn, let me pass through your cavern, fearsome Snake.”“Let her pass, Mother dear,” said the snakes and baby snakes again. “Here are many of us whom she has fed—full many to whom she gave meat. You just lie down, Mother dear, and take a nap, and we’ll stir up the waters for you.”Now the Snake couldn’t very well disoblige such a big family, and she had been longing for sleep for a thousand years. So she let the Woman through the cavern, and then curled up on the floor of the cavern and fell into a fearsome sleep. But before she fell asleep she reminded the snakes and baby snakes once more:“Now, stir me up the waters right properly, children dear, while I rest a little.”So the Woman passed through the cavern, and the snakes and their young stayed in the cavern; but instead of stirring up the sea they soothed it and made it calm.The Woman sailed on, and came to the second cavern. And in the second cavern there was a monstrous Bird, the Mother of All Birds. She craned her frightful head through the opening, her iron beak gaped wide; she spread her vast wings in the cavern and flapped them, and whenever she flapped her wings she raised a storm.The Woman took up her twin pipes and sweetly played upon the left-hand pipe. And from the far shore came flying gulls great and small, and begged the monstrous bird to let the Woman pass with her boat through her cavern, for that she had been a good friend to them and unpicked hemp for them every day.“I can’t let her pass through my cavern, for to-day I must raise a mighty storm. But if she was so kind to you, I will repay her with even greater kindness. From my iron beak I will give her of the Water of Life, so that the power of speech shall be restored to her.”Well, and wasn’t it a sore temptation for the poor dumb creature who desired above all things that the power of speech should return to her? But she remained steadfast, and this is what she answered the Bird:“’Tis not for my own good that I came, but for a small matter—for the Bass that lives in the Unknown Sea. If I have done you a good turn, let me pass through your cavern.”Then the grey gulls all entreated the Mother Bird and also advised her to take a little nap, and they would meanwhile raise the storm for her. The Mother Bird listened to her children’s entreaty, clung to the wall of the cavern with her iron talons and went to sleep.But the gulls great and small, instead of raising the storm, calmed the wild winds and soothed them.So the dumb Woman sailed through the second cavern and came to the third.In the third cavern she found the Golden Bee. The Golden Bee buzzed in the entrance; she wielded the fiery lightning and the rolling thunder. Sea and cavern resounded; lightnings flashed from the clouds.Fear seized upon the Woman when she found herself all alone with these terrors. But she remembered her right sleeve; she ripped it off, her sleeve all white and unhemmed, flung it over the Golden Bee and caught her in the sleeve!The thunder and lightning were stilled at once, and the Golden Bee began to coax the Woman:“Set me free, O Woman! and in return I will show you something. Look out over the wide waters, and it’s a joyful sight you will see.”The Woman looked out over the wide waters. The sun was just on the horizon. The sky grew pink overhead; the sea grew crimson from the east, and from the sea arose a silver boat. And in the boat sat the Dawn-Maiden, pale and fair as a king’s daughter, and beside her a little child in a silken shirt and with a golden apple in his hand. It was the Dawn-Maiden taking the little King for his morning sail on the sea.The Woman recognised her lost baby.Now isn’t that a wonder of wonders, that the sea should be so wide that a mother cannot encompass it, and the sun so high that a mother should not be able to reach it?Her joy took hold of her like terror. She trembled like the slender aspen. Should she stretch out her hand to the child? or call to him tenderly? or should she just stand and look at him for ever and ever?The silver boat glided over the crimson sea. It faded away in the distance; the boat sank under the waves, and the mother roused herself with a start.“I will show you,” said the Golden Bee to the Woman, “how to get to the little King, your son, and live with him in joy and happiness. But first set me free, that I may wield the lightnings in the cavern—and through my cavern I cannot let you pass!”A fierce pang overcame the poor mother, overwhelmed and shook her. She had seen her darling; her eyes had beheld her heart’s desire; she had seen and beheld him, but not hugged him, not kissed him! The pang shook her from head to foot. Should she be true to Plunk or no? Should she let the Bee go and win to her child, or pass through the cavern to the Unknown Sea for the sake of the Big Bass?But even as the pang shot through the Woman, the tears gushed forth from her heart; the power of speech returned to her, and ’twas in living words that she answered the Golden Bee:“Don’t sting me, O Golden Bee! I shall not let you go, because I must pass through your cavern. I have wept for my child and buried him in my heart. I have not come here for my own happiness, but for a small matter—for the Big Bass that lives in the Unknown Sea.”Thus said the Woman, and passed into the cavern. She rested in the cavern; she took her ease in the boat, and there she waited for nightfall and moonrise.Eh, my dearie, but the sea was quiet that day, with the winds at rest in the sky, and the fearsome Snake asleep in the first cavern, and the monstrous Bird asleep in the second, and the wearied Woman in the third!So the day went quietly by; evening came, and the moon rose. When the moon rode high in the heavens, the Woman sailed out upon the Unknown Sea at midnight, and in the midst of the Sea she let down her little bone hook.That very evening the little King bade Plunk knit him a nice set of silken reins. “First thing to-morrow morning I shall harness you to my little carriage, and you shall give me a ride on the golden sands.”Dearie me, considered poor Plunk, and where was he to hide from the Dawn-Maiden when she would go down into the sea in the morning and behold him thus to-morrow harnessed to a cart by his own son?All the Sea King’s court slept. The Sea King slept. The wilful little King slept—only Plunk was awake and knitting away at the reins. He knitted fiercely, like one who is thinking hard. When it seemed to him that the strings were strong enough, Plunk said to himself:“I never asked anyone’s counsel when I was making a fool of myself, nor shall I do so now that I have come to my senses.”And as he said this he went softly up to the cradle where his son lay fast asleep, wound the reins round and round the rockers of the cradle, lashed the cradle to his own back, and started to run away with his son.Softly Plunk strode over the golden sand—strode through the mighty Hall, spacious as a wide meadow; slipped through the golden hedge, parting the branches of pearls; and when he came to where the sea stood up like a wall, nothing daunted, Plunk dived into the water with his boy.But it is far—terribly far—from the Sea King’s fastness to the world of day above! Plunk swam and swam; but how was a poor fisherman to swim when he was weighed down by the little King—golden cradle, golden apple and all—on his back?Plunk felt as if the sea was piling itself up above him, higher and higher, and heavier and heavier!And just as Plunk was at the last gasp, he felt something scrape along the golden cradle, something that caught in the rocker of the cradle; and when it had caught fast, it began to haul them along apace!“Now it’s all up with me!” said poor Plunk to himself. “Here’s a sea-monster carrying me away on his tusk.”But it wasn’t the tusk of a sea-monster; it was a bone fish-hook, the very hook that Plunk’s wife had let down.When the Woman felt that her hook had caught, she joyfully summoned all her strength, pulling and hauling with all her might, for fear of losing the great Big Bass.As she began to haul in her catch the golden rocker began to show above the water. The Woman could not distinguish it rightly by moonlight, but thought: “It is the golden fin of the Bass.”Next came up the child with the golden apple. Again the Woman thought: “It is the golden apple on the fish’s fin.” And when at last Plunk’s head came up, the Woman cried out joyfully: “And here is the head of the great Big Bass.”And as she cried out she hauled in her catch, and when she had hauled it close alongside—why, dearie mine, how am I to tell you rightly how overjoyed were those three when they met again in the boat, all in the moonlight, in the middle of the Unknown Sea?But they dare not lose any time. They had to pass through the three caverns ere the monstrous watchers should awaken. So they took out the oars and rowed with all their might and main.But oh dear! the bad luck they had! When the little King awoke and saw his mummy, he remembered her at once. He threw both his little arms round his mummy’s neck—and the golden apple fell out of his hand. Down fell the apple into the sea, down to the very bottom and into the Sea King’s Castle, and hit the Sea King right on his shoulder!The Sea King woke up, and bellowed with rage. All the court jumped to their feet. They saw at once that the little King and his servant were missing!They gave chase. The mermaids swam out under the moonlight; the light foam fairies flew out over the water; runners were sent out to rouse the watchers in the caverns.But the boat had already passed through the caverns, and so they had to pursue it farther on. Plunk and the Woman were rowing—rowing for dear life, their pursuers close in their wake. The mermaids whipped up the waters; the swift foam fairies darted after the boat; the angry waves rose up in wrath behind them; the wind howled from the clouds. Nearer and nearer came the pursuers. The finest ship afloat would not have had a chance, and how could a tiny two-oared boat? For hours and hours the boat flew on before the tempest, and just as the day began to break, lo, terror gathered from all sides around the boat.For the hurricane beat upon the boat; the crested billows towered above it; the mermaids joined in a ring around it. The ring heaved and swayed around the boat; the mermaids raised their linked hands high to let the mountainous waves pass through, but never let the little craft escape the waves. Sea and storm whistled and roared.The fear of death was upon Plunk, and in his dire need he cried out:“Oh, fair Dawn-Maiden, help!”The Dawn-Maiden arose from the sea. She saw Plunk, but never looked at him. She looked at the little King, but no gift had she for him; but to the faithful Wife she swiftly gave her gift—a broidered kerchief and a pin.Quickly they hoisted the kerchief, and it became a white sail, and the pin turned into a rudder. The wind filled the sail, so that it bulged like a ripe apple, and the Woman gripped the rudder with a strong hand. The mermaids’ ring round the boat was broken; the boat rode upon the azure sea like a star across the blue heavens! A wonder of wonders, it flew over the sea before its terrible pursuers; the fiercer the pursuit, the greater help it was to them; for the swifter the wind blew, the more swiftly yet flew the boat before the wind, and the swifter the sea, the more swiftly rode the boat upon the sea.Already the rock-bound shore loomed afar, and upon the shore Plunk’s little cottage and the bar of white sand before it.As soon as the land hove in sight, the pursuit slackened. The foam fairies fear the shore; the mermaids keep away from the coast. Wind and waves stayed on the high seas, and only the boat flew straight ahead to land like a child to its mother’s lap.The boat flew to land over the white sand bar, and struck on a rock. The boat split on the rock. Down went sail and rudder; down went the golden cradle; away flew the Golden-winged Bee; and Plunk and his wife and child were left alone on the beach outside their cottage.When they sat down that night to their supper of wild spinach, they had clean forgotten all that had happened. And but for those twin pipes, there’s not a soul would remember it now. But whoever starts to play on the pipes, the fat pipe at once begins to drone out about Plunk:Harum-scarum Plunk would goWhere the pearls and corals grow;There he found but grief and woe.And then the little pipe reminds us of the Woman:Rise, O Dawn, in loveliness!Here is new-born happiness;Were it three times drown’d in ill.Faith and Love would save it still!And that is the twin pipes’ message to the wide, wide world.
Once upon a time long before the white men came to Canada there lived a wicked giant who caused great trouble and sorrow wherever he went. Men called him Wolf-Wind. Where he was born no man knows, but his home was in the Cave of the Winds, far in the north country in the Night-Night Land, and there men knew he was hiding on calm days when the sun was hot and the sea was still, and on quiet nights when not a leaf or a flower or a blade of grass was stirring. But whenever he appeared, the great trees cracked in fear and the little trees trembled and the flowers bent their heads close to the earth, trying to hide from his presence. Often he came upon them without warning and with little sign of his coming. And then the corn fell flat never to rise again, and tall trees crashed in the forest, and the flowers dropped dead because of their terror; and often the great waters grew white and moaned or screamed loudly or dashed themselves against the rocks trying to escape from Wolf-Wind. And in the darkness of the night when Wolf-Wind howled, there was great fear upon all the earth.It happened once in those old times that Wolf-Wind was in a great rage, and he went forth to kill and devour all who dared to come in his path. It chanced in that time that many Indian families were living near the sea. The men and women were fishing far off the coast. They were catching fish to make food for the winter. They went very far away in small canoes, for the sea had long been still and they thought there was no danger. The little children were alone on shore. Suddenly as the sun went down, without a sign of his coming, out of the north came Wolf-Wind in his great rage looking for prey, and roaring loudly as he came. “I am Wolf-Wind, the giant,” he howled, “cross not my path, for I will kill all the people I meet, and eat them all up.” His anger only grew as he stalked along, and he splashed and tossed the waters aside in his fury as he came down upon the fishermen and fisher-women far out to sea. The fishers had no time to get out of his reach or to paddle to the shore, so quick was Wolf-Wind’s coming, and the giant caught them in his path and broke up their boats and killed them all. All night long he raged over the ocean looking for more fishers.In the morning Wolf-Wind’s anger was not yet spent. Far away in front of him, he saw the little children of the fishers playing on the shore. He knew they were alone, for he had killed their fathers and mothers. He resolved to catch them and kill them too, and after them he went, still in a great rage. He went quickly towards the land, roaring as he went and dashing the waters against the rocks in his madness. As he came near the beach he howled in his anger, “I will catch you and kill you all and eat you and bleach your bones upon the sand.” But the children heard him and they ran away as fast as they could, and they hid in a cave among the great rocks and placed a big stone at the mouth of the cave and Wolf-Wind could not get in. He howled loudly at the door all day and all night long, but the stone was strong and he could not break it down. Then he went on his way still very angry and still roaring, and he howled, “I will come back and catch you yet. You cannot escape from me.”The children were very frightened and they stayed long in the cave after Wolf-Wind had gone, for far away they could still hear him howling and crashing in the forest. Then they came out. They knew that Wolf-Wind had killed their fathers and mothers on the sea. They ran away into the forest, for they thought that there they would be safe. They went to the Willow-Willow Land where they found a pleasant place with grass and flowers and streams. And between them and the north country where Wolf-Wind lived were many great trees with thick leaves which they knew would protect them from the giant.But one day Wolf-Wind, true to his promise, came again in a rage to find them. He came into the land, killing all he met in his path. But he could not catch the children, for the trees with their thick leaves kept him away. They heard him howling in the forest far distant. For many days in the late summer he tried to find them but their home was close to the trees, and the great branches spread over them and the thick leaves saved them, and only the sun from the south, coming from the Summer-Flower country, could look in upon them. Try as he could with all his might old Wolf-Wind could not harm them, although he knew that they were there; and they were always safe while they lived in the Willow-Willow Land.Wolf-Wind was more angry than ever because of his failure, for he liked to feed on his little children, and his rage knew no bounds. He swore that he would have vengeance on the trees. So he came back again and he brought with him to aid him another giant from the north country who had with him a strange and powerful charm, the Charm of the Frost. And the two giants tried to kill the trees that had saved the little children. But over many of the trees they had no power, for when they came, the trees only laughed and merely swayed and creaked and said, “You cannot harm us; we are strong, for we came at first from the Night-Night Land in the far north country, and over us the Charm of the Frost has no power.” These were the Spruce and the Fir, the Hemlock and the Pine and the Cedar. But on the other trees Wolf-Wind had vengeance as he had vowed. One night when the harvest moon was shining in the sky he came without warning, and with the help of the giant bearing the Charm of the Frost he killed all the leaves that had kept him from the children, and threw them to the ground. One after one the leaves came off from the Beech and the Birch, the Oak and the Maple, the Alder and the Willow. Some fell quickly, some fluttered slowly down, and some took a long time in dying. But at last the trees stood bare and cold against the sky and there was stillness and sadness in the forest. And Wolf-Wind laughed and played in silence through the leafless branches with the giant from Night-Night Land. And he said, “Now I have overcome the leaves that kept me away, and now when I please I can kill the children.” But the children only moved closer to the strong and sturdy trees that had come at first from the far north country and over which the Charm of the Frost had no power, and Wolf-Wind could not reach them and they were still for ever safe from the giants.The children were very sad when they saw what Wolf-Wind had done to their friends and protectors, the trees. Summer had gone back to the Southland following as she always did the Rainbow Road to her home in the Wilderness of Flowers. It was lonely now in the forest and silent; there was not a whisper in the trees; there were no leaves, for it was autumn and Wolf-Wind had killed them all.At last it came to that time of year when Glooskap, who ruled upon the earth and was very great in those days, gave his yearly gifts to little children. And he came into the land on a sled drawn by his faithful dogs to find out for himself what the children wished for. And the children all came to him each asking for a boon. Now Glooskap had great power upon the earth in that old time. He could always do what he willed. And the little children whom Wolf-Wind had tried to harm in his rage came to Glooskap, the Magic Master of gifts, and they were all very sad because the leaves had gone.“What do you wish?” said Glooskap. “We wish nothing for ourselves,” said the children, “but we ask that the leaves that were killed by Wolf-Wind because they saved us from his rage be brought back to life and put back again in their old home in the trees.” Glooskap was silent for a long time and he sat and thought as was his custom, and he smoked hard at his mighty pipe, for he was a great smoker. Now in that time there were no little forest birds upon the earth, for Glooskap had not yet brought them into being. There were only the birds that dwelt near the sea and over whom Wolf-Wind had no power—Sea-gull and Crane, Wild-duck and Loon, Kingfisher and Brant and Curlew. These only laughed at the giant in his rage and screamed in mockery as they flew from him and hid when he came, among the shallows or the rocks or the thick grass in the marshes. And there were also the sturdy birds that dwelt with men and worked for them, giving them eggs and food. These were Hen and Goose and Duck and Wild Turkey. They gave men food, but they were not fair to look upon; they waddled along and could not fly well and they made no sweet music upon the earth, for their song was a quack and a cackle.Glooskap decided to bring other birds into the world, not to give food, but to bring happiness to the children on the days when summer dwells in the land, with their pretty feathers and their pleasant songs. So after he had smoked long in silence he hit upon a plan. And he said to the children asking for their yearly gifts, “I cannot bring back to the trees the leaves that Wolf-Wind has killed and stripped off, for it is now too late. But I will take the fallen leaves and change them into little birds. And the birds shall never forget how they were born. When autumn comes they shall go with summer far away to the Summer-Flower Land, but in the spring-time they shall always come back and they shall live as close as they can to the leaves from which they have sprung. And they shall nest, most of them, in the trees under the leaves, and even those that nest in the grass shall love the trees and linger in them. And they shall all be beautiful in colour like the leaves that gave them birth; and they shall have power to rest at times upon the air like a leaf fluttering; and the voice of the air and the laughing waters shall be in their throats and they shall sing sweet songs for little children. And I give the children charge over them to keep them from harm just as the leaves which gave them birth have saved the little children from the giants. And I will give the trees that Wolf-Wind has stripped power to bring forth new leaves every springtime so that when Summer comes back from the Wilderness of Flowers the trees shall not be bare. And although Wolf-Wind may strip them off when the Giant of the Frost comes with him from the Night-Night Land they shall always be replaced in the spring-time. And I will take away much of Wolf-Wind’s power so that he can no longer harm little children as wickedly as he has done before.”Glooskap waved his magic wand as was his custom, and at once great flocks of little birds sprang from the ground where the fallen leaves had lain. And they twittered and sang in a great chorus and flew back to the trees. They were of beautiful colours like the leaves that had given them birth. There were Robin Red-breasts and Thrushes all brown and red, from the red and brown leaves of the Oak. And there were Finches and Humming-birds all yellow and green and brown from the leaves of the Alder and the Willow, and they glowed like willows in the sunlight and fluttered like a leaf upon the air. There were Yellowbirds and Canadian Warblers from the golden Beech and Birch leaves. And there were Scarlet Tanagers and Orioles and Grosbeaks all of changing colours, red and purple and brown, from the leaves of the Canadian Maple. And they all sang to the children and the children were all very happy again.Then Glooskap sent the little birds all away to a warm country until the rule of the Giant of the Frost from the Night-Night Land was over, for it was winter in all the land and it was very cold. But in the springtime the little birds always come back from the Summer-Flower Land. And they build their nests among the trees as close as they can to their kindred, the leaves from which they came. And all day long they sing among the leaves for little children. At day-break they wake the children with their choir of dawn, and at twilight they lisp and twitter to lull the children to sleep. And at night they hide among the leaves from Wolf-Wind and are very still with never a twitter or a song. For they do not forget that they are the children’s gift from Glooskap and that they came from the leaves stripped from the trees by Wolf-Wind because the leaves saved the little children from the giant long ago.
Chapter 1: Little RudyWe will pay a visit to Switzerland, and wander through that country of mountains, whose steep and rocky sides are overgrown with forest trees. Let us climb to the dazzling snow-fields at their summits, and descend again to the green meadows beneath, through which rivers and brooks rush along as if they could not quickly enough reach the sea and vanish. Fiercely shines the sun over those deep valleys, as well as upon the heavy masses of snow which lie on the mountains.During the year these accumulations thaw or fall in the rolling avalance, or are piled up in shining glaciers. Two of these glaciers lie in the broad, rocky cliffs, between the Schreckhorn and the Wetterhorn, near the little town of Grindelwald. They are wonderful to behold, and therefore in the summer time strangers come here from all parts of the world to see them. They cross snow-covered mountains, and travel through the deep valleys, or ascend for hours, higher and still higher, the valleys appearing to sink lower and lower as they proceed, and become as small as if seen from an air balloon. Over the lofty summits of these mountains the clouds often hang like a dark veil; while beneath in the valley, where many brown, wooden houses are scattered about, the bright rays of the sun may be shining upon a little brilliant patch of green, making it appear almost transparent. The waters foam and dash along in the valleys beneath; the streams from above trickle and murmur as they fall down the rocky mountain’s side, looking like glittering silver bands.On both sides of the mountain-path stand these little wooden houses; and, as within, there are many children and many mouths to feed, each house has its own little potato garden. These children rush out in swarms, and surround travellers, whether on foot or in carriages. They are all clever at making a bargain. They offer for sale the sweetest little toy-houses, models of the mountain cottages in Switzerland. Whether it be rain or sunshine, these crowds of children are always to be seen with their wares.About twenty years ago, there might be seen occasionally, standing at a short distance from the other children, a little boy, who was also anxious to sell his curious wares. He had an earnest, expressive countenance, and held the box containing his carved toys tightly with both hands, as if unwilling to part with it. His earnest look, and being also a very little boy, made him noticed by the strangers; so that he often sold the most, without knowing why. An hour’s walk farther up the ascent lived his grandfather, who cut and carved the pretty little toy-houses; and in the old man’s room stood a large press, full of all sorts of carved things—nut-crackers, knives and forks, boxes with beautifully carved foliage, leaping chamois. It contained everything that could delight the eyes of a child. But the boy, who was named Rudy, looked with still greater pleasure and longing at some old fire-arms which hung upon the rafters, under the ceiling of the room. His grandfather promised him that he should have them some day, but that he must first grow big and strong, and learn how to use them. Small as he was, the goats were placed in his care, and a good goat-keeper should also be a good climber, and such Rudy was; he sometimes, indeed, climbed higher than the goats, for he was fond of seeking for birds’-nests at the top of high trees; he was bold and daring, but was seldom seen to smile, excepting when he stood by the roaring cataract, or heard the descending roll of the avalanche. He never played with the other children, and was not seen with them, unless his grandfather sent him down to sell his curious workmanship. Rudy did not much like trade; he loved to climb the mountains, or to sit by his grandfather and listen to his tales of olden times, or of the people in Meyringen, the place of his birth.“In the early ages of the world,” said the old man, “these people could not be found in Switzerland. They are a colony from the north, where their ancestors still dwell, and are called Swedes.”This was something for Rudy to know, but he learnt more from other sources, particularly from the domestic animals who belonged to the house. One was a large dog, called Ajola, which had belonged to his father; and the other was a tom-cat. This cat stood very high in Rudy’s favor, for he had taught him to climb.“Come out on the roof with me,” said the cat; and Rudy quite understood him, for the language of fowls, ducks, cats, and dogs, is as easily understood by a young child as his own native tongue. But it must be at the age when grandfather’s stick becomes a neighing horse, with head, legs, and tail. Some children retain these ideas later than others, and they are considered backwards and childish for their age. People say so; but is it so?“Come out on the roof with me, little Rudy,” was the first thing he heard the cat say, and Rudy understood him. “What people say about falling down is all nonsense,” continued the cat; “you will not fall, unless you are afraid. Come, now, set one foot here and another there, and feel your way with your fore-feet. Keep your eyes wide open, and move softly, and if you come to a hole jump over it, and cling fast as I do.” And this was just what Rudy did. He was often on the sloping roof with the cat, or on the tops of high trees. But, more frequently, higher still on the ridges of the rocks where puss never came.“Higher, higher!” cried the trees and the bushes, “see to what height we have grown, and how fast we hold, even to the narrow edges of the rocks.”Rudy often reached the top of the mountain before the sunrise, and there inhaled his morning draught of the fresh, invigorating mountain air,—God’s own gift, which men call the sweet fragrance of plant and herb on the mountain-side, and the mint and wild thyme in the valleys. The overhanging clouds absorb all heaviness from the air, and the winds convey them away over the pine-tree summits. The spirit of fragrance, light and fresh, remained behind, and this was Rudy’s morning draught. The sunbeams—those blessing-bringing daughters of the sun—kissed his cheeks. Vertigo might be lurking on the watch, but he dared not approach him. The swallows, who had not less than seven nests in his grandfather’s house, flew up to him and his goats, singing, “We and you, you and we.” They brought him greetings from his grandfather’s house, even from two hens, the only birds of the household; but Rudy was not intimate with them.Although so young and such a little fellow, Rudy had travelled a great deal. He was born in the canton of Valais, and brought to his grandfather over the mountains. He had walked to Staubbach—a little town that seems to flutter in the air like a silver veil—the glittering, snow-clad mountain Jungfrau. He had also been to the great glaciers; but this is connected with a sad story, for here his mother met her death, and his grandfather used to say that all Rudy’s childish merriment was lost from that time. His mother had written in a letter, that before he was a year old he had laughed more than he cried; but after his fall into the snow-covered crevasse, his disposition had completely changed. The grandfather seldom spoke of this, but the fact was generally known. Rudy’s father had been a postilion, and the large dog which now lived in his grandfather’s cottage had always followed him on his journeys over the Simplon to the lake of Geneva. Rudy’s relations, on his father’s side, lived in the canton of Valais, in the valley of the Rhone. His uncle was a chamois hunter, and a well-known guide. Rudy was only a year old when his father died, and his mother was anxious to return with her child to her own relations, who lived in the Bernese Oberland. Her father dwelt at a few hours’ distance from Grindelwald; he was a carver in wood, and gained so much by it that he had plenty to live upon. She set out homewards in the month of June, carrying her infant in her arms, and, accompanied by two chamois hunters, crossed the Gemmi on her way to Grindelwald. They had already left more than half the journey behind them. They had crossed high ridges, and traversed snow-fields; they could even see her native valley, with its familiar wooden cottages. They had only one more glacier to climb. Some newly fallen snow concealed a cleft which, though it did not extend to the foaming waters in the depths beneath, was still much deeper than the height of a man. The young woman, with the child in her arms, slipped upon it, sank in, and disappeared. Not a shriek, not a groan was heard; nothing but the whining of a little child. More than an hour elapsed before her two companions could obtain from the nearest house ropes and poles to assist in raising them; and it was with much exertion that they at last succeeded in raising from the crevasse what appeared to be two dead bodies. Every means was used to restore them to life. With the child they were successful, but not with the mother; so the old grandfather received his daughter’s little son into his house an orphan,—a little boy who laughed more than he cried; but it seemed as if laughter had left him in the cold ice-world into which he had fallen, where, as the Swiss peasants say, the souls of the lost are confined till the judgment-day.The glaciers appear as if a rushing stream had been frozen in its course, and pressed into blocks of green crystal, which, balanced one upon another, form a wondrous palace of crystal for the Ice Maiden—the queen of the glaciers. It is she whose mighty power can crush the traveller to death, and arrest the flowing river in its course. She is also a child of the air, and with the swiftness of the chamois she can reach the snow-covered mountain tops, where the boldest mountaineer has to cut footsteps in the ice to ascend. She will sail on a frail pine-twig over the raging torrents beneath, and spring lightly from one iceberg to another, with her long, snow-white hair flowing around her, and her dark-green robe glittering like the waters of the deep Swiss lakes. “Mine is the power to seize and crush,” she cried. “Once a beautiful boy was stolen from me by man,—a boy whom I had kissed, but had not kissed to death. He is again among mankind, and tends the goats on the mountains. He is always climbing higher and higher, far away from all others, but not from me. He is mine; I will send for him.” And she gave Vertigo the commission.It was summer, and the Ice Maiden was melting amidst the green verdure, when Vertigo swung himself up and down. Vertigo has many brothers, quite a troop of them, and the Ice Maiden chose the strongest among them. They exercise their power in different ways, and everywhere. Some sit on the banisters of steep stairs, others on the outer rails of lofty towers, or spring like squirrels along the ridges of the mountains. Others tread the air as a swimmer treads the water, and lure their victims here and there till they fall into the deep abyss. Vertigo and the Ice Maiden clutch at human beings, as the polypus seizes upon all that comes within its reach. And now Vertigo was to seize Rudy.“Seize him, indeed,” cried Vertigo; “I cannot do it. That monster of a cat has taught him her tricks. That child of the human race has a power within him which keeps me at a distance; I cannot possibly reach the boy when he hangs from the branches of trees, over the precipice; or I would gladly tickle his feet, and send him heels over head through the air; but I cannot accomplish it.”“We must accomplish it,” said the Ice Maiden; “either you or I must; and I will—I will!”“No, no!” sounded through the air, like an echo on the mountain church bells chime. It was an answer in song, in the melting tones of a chorus from others of nature’s spirits—good and loving spirits, the daughters of the sunbeam. They who place themselves in a circle every evening on the mountain peaks; there they spread out their rose-colored wings, which, as the sun sinks, become more flaming red, until the lofty Alps seem to burn with fire. Men call this the Alpine glow. After the sun has set, they disappear within the white snow on the mountain-tops, and slumber there till sunrise, when they again come forth. They have great love for flowers, for butterflies, and for mankind; and from among the latter they had chosen little Rudy. “You shall not catch him; you shall not seize him!” they sang.“Greater and stronger than he have I seized!” said the Ice Maiden.Then the daughters of the sun sang a song of the traveller, whose cloak had been carried away by the wind. “The wind took the covering, but not the man; it could even seize upon him, but not hold him fast. The children of strength are more powerful, more ethereal, even than we are. They can rise higher than our parent, the sun. They have the magic words that rule the wind and the waves, and compel them to serve and obey; and they can, at last, cast off the heavy, oppressive weight of mortality, and soar upwards.” Thus sweetly sounded the bell-like tones of the chorus.And each morning the sun’s rays shone through the one little window of the grandfather’s house upon the quiet child. The daughters of the sunbeam kissed him; they wished to thaw, and melt, and obliterate the ice kiss which the queenly maiden of the glaciers had given him as he lay in the lap of his dead mother, in the deep crevasse of ice from which he had been so wonderfully rescued.Chapter 2: The Journey to the New HomeRudy was just eight years old, when his uncle, who lived on the other side of the mountain, wished to have the boy, as he thought he might obtain a better education with him, and learn something more. His grandfather thought the same, so he consented to let him go. Rudy had many to say farewell to, as well as his grandfather. First, there was Ajola, the old dog.“Your father was the postilion, and I was the postilion’s dog,” said Ajola. “We have often travelled the same journey together; I knew all the dogs and men on this side of the mountain. It is not my habit to talk much; but now that we have so little time to converse together, I will say something more than usual. I will relate to you a story, which I have reflected upon for a long time. I do not understand it, and very likely you will not, but that is of no consequence. I have, however, learnt from it that in this world things are not equally divided, neither for dogs nor for men. All are not born to lie on the lap and to drink milk: I have never been petted in this way, but I have seen a little dog seated in the place of a gentleman or lady, and travelling inside a post-chaise. The lady, who was his mistress, or of whom he was master, carried a bottle of milk, of which the little dog now and then drank; she also offered him pieces of sugar to crunch. He sniffed at them proudly, but would not eat one, so she ate them herself. I was running along the dirty road by the side of the carriage as hungry as a dog could be, chewing the cud of my own thoughts, which were rather in confusion. But many other things seemed in confusion also. Why was not I lying on a lap and travelling in a coach? I could not tell; yet I knew I could not alter my own condition, either by barking or growling.”This was Ajola’s farewell speech, and Rudy threw his arms round the dog’s neck and kissed his cold nose. Then he took the cat in his arms, but he struggled to get free.“You are getting too strong for me,” he said; “but I will not use my claws against you. Clamber away over the mountains; it was I who taught you to climb. Do not fancy you are going to fall, and you will be quite safe.” Then the cat jumped down and ran away; he did not wish Rudy to see that there were tears in his eyes.The hens were hopping about the floor; one of them had no tail; a traveller, who fancied himself a sportsman, had shot off her tail, he had mistaken her for a bird of prey.“Rudy is going away over the mountains,” said one of the hens.“He is always in such a hurry,” said the other; “and I don’t like taking leave,” so they both hopped out.But the goats said farewell; they bleated and wanted to go with him, they were so very sorry.Just at this time two clever guides were going to cross the mountains to the other side of the Gemmi, and Rudy was to go with them on foot. It was a long walk for such a little boy, but he had plenty of strength and invincible courage. The swallows flew with him a little way, singing, “We and you—you and we.” The way led across the rushing Lutschine, which falls in numerous streams from the dark clefts of the Grindelwald glaciers. Trunks of fallen trees and blocks of stone form bridges over these streams. After passing a forest of alders, they began to ascend, passing by some blocks of ice that had loosened themselves from the side of the mountain and lay across their path; they had to step over these ice-blocks or walk round them. Rudy crept here and ran there, his eyes sparkling with joy, and he stepped so firmly with his iron-tipped mountain shoe, that he left a mark behind him wherever he placed his foot.The earth was black where the mountain torrents or the melted ice had poured upon it, but the bluish green, glassy ice sparkled and glittered. They had to go round little pools, like lakes, enclosed between large masses of ice; and, while thus wandering out of their path, they came near an immense stone, which lay balanced on the edge of an icy peak. The stone lost its balance just as they reached it, and rolled over into the abyss beneath, while the noise of its fall was echoed back from every hollow cliff of the glaciers.They were always going upwards. The glaciers seemed to spread above them like a continued chain of masses of ice, piled up in wild confusion between bare and rugged rocks. Rudy thought for a moment of what had been told him, that he and his mother had once lain buried in one of these cold, heart-chilling fissures; but he soon banished such thoughts, and looked upon the story as fabulous, like many other stories which had been told him. Once or twice, when the men thought the way was rather difficult for such a little boy, they held out their hands to assist him; but he would not accept their assistance, for he stood on the slippery ice as firmly as if he had been a chamois. They came at length to rocky ground; sometimes stepping upon moss-covered stones, sometimes passing beneath stunted fir-trees, and again through green meadows. The landscape was always changing, but ever above them towered the lofty snow-clad mountains, whose names not only Rudy but every other child knew—“The Jungfrau,” “The Monk and the Eiger.”Rudy had never been so far away before; he had never trodden on the wide-spreading ocean of snow that lay here with its immovable billows, from which the wind blows off the snowflake now and then, as it cuts the foam from the waves of the sea. The glaciers stand here so close together it might almost be said they are hand-in-hand; and each is a crystal palace for the Ice Maiden, whose power and will it is to seize and imprison the unwary traveller.The sun shone warmly, and the snow sparkled as if covered with glittering diamonds. Numerous insects, especially butterflies and bees, lay dead in heaps on the snow. They had ventured too high, or the wind had carried them here and left them to die of cold.Around the Wetterhorn hung a feathery cloud, like a woolbag, and a threatening cloud too, for as it sunk lower it increased in size, and concealed within was a “föhn,”fearful in its violence should it break loose. This journey, with its varied incidents,—the wild paths, the night passed on the mountain, the steep rocky precipices, the hollow clefts, in which the rustling waters from time immemorial had worn away passages for themselves through blocks of stone,—all these were firmly impressed on Rudy’s memory.In a forsaken stone building, which stood just beyond the seas of snow, they one night took shelter. Here they found some charcoal and pine branches, so that they soon made a fire. They arranged couches to lie on as well as they could, and then the men seated themselves by the fire, took out their pipes, and began to smoke. They also prepared a warm, spiced drink, of which they partook and Rudy was not forgotten—he had his share. Then they began to talk of those mysterious beings with which the land of the Alps abounds; the hosts of apparitions which come in the night, and carry off the sleepers through the air, to the wonderful floating town of Venice; of the wild herds-man, who drives the black sheep across the meadows. These flocks are never seen, yet the tinkle of their little bells has often been heard, as well as their unearthly bleating. Rudy listened eagerly, but without fear, for he knew not what fear meant; and while he listened, he fancied he could hear the roaring of the spectral herd. It seemed to come nearer and roar louder, till the men heard it also and listened in silence, till, at length, they told Rudy that he must not dare to sleep. It was a “fohn,” that violent storm-wind which rushes from the mountain to the valley beneath, and in its fury snaps asunder the trunks of large trees as if they were but slender reeds, and carries the wooden houses from one side of a river to the other as easily as we could move the pieces on a chess-board. After an hour had passed, they told Rudy that it was all over, and he might go to sleep; and, fatigued with his long walk, he readily slept at the word of command.Very early the following morning they again set out. The sun on this day lighted up for Rudy new mountains, new glaciers, and new snow-fields. They had entered the Canton Valais, and found themselves on the ridge of the hills which can be seen from Grindelwald; but he was still far from his new home. They pointed out to him other clefts, other meadows, other woods and rocky paths, and other houses. Strange men made their appearance before him, and what men! They were misshapen, wretched-looking creatures, with yellow complexions; and on their necks were dark, ugly lumps of flesh, hanging down like bags. They were called cretins. They dragged themselves along painfully, and stared at the strangers with vacant eyes. The women looked more dreadful than the men. Poor Rudy! were these the sort of people he should see at his new home?Chapter 3: The UncleRudy arrived at last at his uncle’s house, and was thankful to find the people like those he had been accustomed to see. There was only one cretin amongst them, a poor idiot boy, one of those unfortunate beings who, in their neglected conditions, go from house to house, and are received and taken care of in different families, for a month or two at a time.Poor Saperli had just arrived at his uncle’s house when Rudy came. The uncle was an experienced hunter; he also followed the trade of a cooper; his wife was a lively little person, with a face like a bird, eyes like those of an eagle, and a long, hairy throat. Everything was new to Rudy—the fashion of the dress, the manners, the employments, and even the language; but the latter his childish ear would soon learn. He saw also that there was more wealth here, when compared with his former home at his grandfather’s. The rooms were larger, the walls were adorned with the horns of the chamois, and brightly polished guns. Over the door hung a painting of the Virgin Mary, fresh alpine roses and a burning lamp stood near it. Rudy’s uncle was, as we have said, one of the most noted chamois hunters in the whole district, and also one of the best guides. Rudy soon became the pet of the house; but there was another pet, an old hound, blind and lazy, who would never more follow the hunt, well as he had once done so. But his former good qualities were not forgotten, and therefore the animal was kept in the family and treated with every indulgence. Rudy stroked the old hound, but he did not like strangers, and Rudy was as yet a stranger; he did not, however, long remain so, he soon endeared himself to every heart, and became like one of the family.“We are not very badly off, here in the canton Valais,” said his uncle one day; “we have the chamois, they do not die so fast as the wild goats, and it is certainly much better here now than in former times. How highly the old times have been spoken of, but ours is better. The bag has been opened, and a current of air now blows through our once confined valley. Something better always makes its appearance when old, worn-out things fail.”When his uncle became communicative, he would relate stories of his youthful days, and farther back still of the warlike times in which his father had lived. Valais was then, as he expressed it, only a closed-up bag, quite full of sick people, miserable cretins; but the French soldiers came, and they were capital doctors, they soon killed the disease and the sick people, too. The French people knew how to fight in more ways than one, and the girls knew how to conquer too; and when he said this the uncle nodded at his wife, who was a French woman by birth, and laughed. The French could also do battle on the stones. “It was they who cut a road out of the solid rock over the Simplon—such a road, that I need only say to a child of three years old, ‘Go down to Italy, you have only to keep in the high road,’ and the child will soon arrive in Italy, if he followed my directions.”Then the uncle sang a French song, and cried, “Hurrah! long live Napoleon Buonaparte.” This was the first time Rudy had ever heard of France, or of Lyons, that great city on the Rhone where his uncle had once lived. His uncle said that Rudy, in a very few years, would become a clever hunter, he had quite a talent for it; he taught the boy to hold a gun properly, and to load and fire it. In the hunting season he took him to the hills, and made him drink the warm blood of the chamois, which is said to prevent the hunter from becoming giddy; he taught him to know the time when, from the different mountains, the avalanche is likely to fall, namely, at noontide or in the evening, from the effects of the sun’s rays; he made him observe the movements of the chamois when he gave a leap, so that he might fall firmly and lightly on his feet. He told him that when on the fissures of the rocks he could find no place for his feet, he must support himself on his elbows, and cling with his legs, and even lean firmly with his back, for this could be done when necessary. He told him also that the chamois are very cunning, they place lookers-out on the watch; but the hunter must be more cunning than they are, and find them out by the scent.One day, when Rudy went out hunting with his uncle, he hung a coat and hat on an alpine staff, and the chamois mistook it for a man, as they generally do. The mountain path was narrow here; indeed it was scarcely a path at all, only a kind of shelf, close to the yawning abyss. The snow that lay upon it was partially thawed, and the stones crumbled beneath the feet. Every fragment of stone broken off struck the sides of the rock in its fall, till it rolled into the depths beneath, and sunk to rest. Upon this shelf Rudy’s uncle laid himself down, and crept forward. At about a hundred paces behind him stood Rudy, upon the highest point of the rock, watching a great vulture hovering in the air; with a single stroke of his wing the bird might easily cast the creeping hunter into the abyss beneath, and make him his prey. Rudy’s uncle had eyes for nothing but the chamois, who, with its young kid, had just appeared round the edge of the rock. So Rudy kept his eyes fixed on the bird, he knew well what the great creature wanted; therefore he stood in readiness to discharge his gun at the proper moment. Suddenly the chamois made a spring, and his uncle fired and struck the animal with the deadly bullet; while the young kid rushed away, as if for a long life he had been accustomed to danger and practised flight. The large bird, alarmed at the report of the gun, wheeled off in another direction, and Rudy’s uncle was saved from danger, of which he knew nothing till he was told of it by the boy.While they were both in pleasant mood, wending their way homewards, and the uncle whistling the tune of a song he had learnt in his young days, they suddenly heard a peculiar sound which seemed to come from the top of the mountain. They looked up, and saw above them, on the over-hanging rock, the snow-covering heave and lift itself as a piece of linen stretched on the ground to dry raises itself when the wind creeps under it. Smooth as polished marble slabs, the waves of snow cracked and loosened themselves, and then suddenly, with the rumbling noise of distant thunder, fell like a foaming cataract into the abyss. An avalanche had fallen, not upon Rudy and his uncle, but very near them. Alas, a great deal too near!“Hold fast, Rudy!” cried his uncle; “hold fast, with all your might.”Then Rudy clung with his arms to the trunk of the nearest tree, while his uncle climbed above him, and held fast by the branches. The avalanche rolled past them at some distance; but the gust of wind that followed, like the storm-wings of the avalanche, snapped asunder the trees and bushes over which it swept, as if they had been but dry rushes, and threw them about in every direction. The tree to which Rudy clung was thus overthrown, and Rudy dashed to the ground. The higher branches were snapped off, and carried away to a great distance; and among these shattered branches lay Rudy’s uncle, with his skull fractured. When they found him, his hand was still warm; but it would have been impossible to recognize his face. Rudy stood by, pale and trembling; it was the first shock of his life, the first time he had ever felt fear. Late in the evening he returned home with the fatal news,—to that home which was now to be so full of sorrow. His uncle’s wife uttered not a word, nor shed a tear, till the corpse was brought in; then her agony burst forth. The poor cretin crept away to his bed, and nothing was seen of him during the whole of the following day. Towards evening, however, he came to Rudy, and said, “Will you write a letter for me? Saperli cannot write; Saperli can only take the letters to the post.”“A letter for you!” said Rudy; “who do you wish to write to?”“To the Lord Christ,” he replied.“What do you mean?” asked Rudy.Then the poor idiot, as the cretin was often called, looked at Rudy with a most touching expression in his eyes, clasped his hands, and said, solemnly and devoutly, “Saperli wants to send a letter to Jesus Christ, to pray Him to let Saperli die, and not the master of the house here.”Rudy pressed his hand, and replied, “A letter would not reach Him up above; it would not give him back whom we have lost.”It was not, however, easy for Rudy to convince Saperli of the impossibility of doing what he wished.“Now you must work for us,” said his foster-mother; and Rudy very soon became the entire support of the house.Chapter 4: BabetteWho was the best marksman in the canton Valais? The chamois knew well. “Save yourselves from Rudy,” they might well say. And who is the handsomest marksman? “Oh, it is Rudy,” said the maidens; but they did not say, “Save yourselves from Rudy.” Neither did anxious mothers say so; for he bowed to them as pleasantly as to the young girls. He was so brave and cheerful. His cheeks were brown, his teeth white, and his eyes dark and sparkling. He was now a handsome young man of twenty years. The most icy water could not deter him from swimming; he could twist and turn like a fish. None could climb like he, and he clung as firmly to the edges of the rocks as a limpet. He had strong muscular power, as could be seen when he leapt from rock to rock. He had learnt this first from the cat, and more lately from the chamois. Rudy was considered the best guide over the mountains; every one had great confidence in him. He might have made a great deal of money as guide. His uncle had also taught him the trade of a cooper; but he had no inclination for either; his delight was in chamois-hunting, which also brought him plenty of money. Rudy would be a very good match, as people said, if he would not look above his own station. He was also such a famous partner in dancing, that the girls often dreamt about him, and one and another thought of him even when awake.“He kissed me in the dance,” said Annette, the schoolmaster’s daughter, to her dearest friend; but she ought not to have told this, even to her dearest friend. It is not easy to keep such secrets; they are like sand in a sieve; they slip out. It was therefore soon known that Rudy, so brave and so good as he was, had kissed some one while dancing, and yet he had never kissed her who was dearest to him.“Ah, ah,” said an old hunter, “he has kissed Annette, has he? he has begun with A, and I suppose he will kiss through the whole alphabet.”But a kiss in the dance was all the busy tongues could accuse him of. He certainly had kissed Annette, but she was not the flower of his heart.Down in the valley, near Bex, among the great walnut-trees, by the side of a little rushing mountain-stream, lived a rich miller. His dwelling-house was a large building, three storeys high, with little turrets. The roof was covered with chips, bound together with tin plates, that glittered in sunshine and in the moonlight. The largest of the turrets had a weather-cock, representing an apple pierced by a glittering arrow, in memory of William Tell. The mill was a neat and well-ordered place, that allowed itself to be sketched and written about; but the miller’s daughter did not permit any to sketch or write about her. So, at least, Rudy would have said, for her image was pictured in his heart; her eyes shone in it so brightly, that quite a flame had been kindled there; and, like all other fires, it had burst forth so suddenly, that the miller’s daughter, the beautiful Babette, was quite unaware of it. Rudy had never spoken a word to her on the subject. The miller was rich, and, on that account, Babette stood very high, and was rather difficult to aspire to. But said Rudy to himself, “Nothing is too high for a man to reach: he must climb with confidence in himself, and he will not fail.” He had learnt this lesson in his youthful home.It happened once that Rudy had some business to settle at Bex. It was a long journey at that time, for the railway had not been opened. From the glaciers of the Rhone, at the foot of the Simplon, between its ever-changing mountain summits, stretches the valley of the canton Valais. Through it runs the noble river of the Rhone, which often overflows its banks, covering fields and highways, and destroying everything in its course. Near the towns of Sion and St. Maurice, the valley takes a turn, and bends like an elbow, and behind St. Maurice becomes so narrow that there is only space enough for the bed of the river and a narrow carriage-road. An old tower stands here, as if it were guardian to the canton Valais, which ends at this point; and from it we can look across the stone bridge to the toll-house on the other side, where the canton Vaud commences. Not far from this spot stands the town of Bex, and at every step can be seen an increase of fruitfulness and verdure. It is like entering a grove of chestnut and walnut-trees.Here and there the cypress and pomegranate blossoms peep forth; and it is almost as warm as an Italian climate. Rudy arrived at Bex, and soon finished the business which had brought him there, and then walked about the town; but not even the miller’s boy could be seen, nor any one belonging to the mill, not to mention Babette. This did not please him at all. Evening came on. The air was filled with the perfume of the wild thyme and the blossoms of the lime-trees, and the green woods on the mountains seemed to be covered with a shining veil, blue as the sky. Over everything reigned a stillness, not of sleep or of death, but as if Nature were holding her breath, that her image might be photographed on the blue vault of heaven. Here and there, amidst the trees of the silent valley, stood poles which supported the wires of the electric telegraph.Against one of these poles leaned an object so motionless that it might have been mistaken for the trunk of a tree; but it was Rudy, standing there as still as at that moment was everything around him. He was not asleep, neither was he dead; but just as the various events in the world—matters of momentous importance to individuals—were flying through the telegraph wires, without the quiver of a wire or the slightest tone, so, through the mind of Rudy, thoughts of overwhelming importance were passing, without an outward sign of emotion. The happiness of his future life depended upon the decision of his present reflections. His eyes were fixed on one spot in the distance—a light that twinkled through the foliage from the parlor of the miller’s house, where Babette dwelt. Rudy stood so still, that it might have been supposed he was watching for a chamois; but he was in reality like a chamois, who will stand for a moment, looking as if it were chiselled out of the rock, and then, if only a stone rolled by, would suddenly bound forward with a spring, far away from the hunter. And so with Rudy: a sudden roll of his thoughts roused him from his stillness, and made him bound forward with determination to act.“Never despair!” cried he. “A visit to the mill, to say good evening to the miller, and good evening to little Babette, can do no harm. No one ever fails who has confidence in himself. If I am to be Babette’s husband, I must see her some time or other.”Then Rudy laughed joyously, and took courage to go to the mill. He knew what he wanted; he wanted to marry Babette. The clear water of the river rolled over its yellow bed, and willows and lime-trees were reflected in it, as Rudy stepped along the path to the miller’s house. But, as the children sing—“There was no one at home in the house,Only a kitten at play.”The cat standing on the steps put up its back and cried “mew.” But Rudy had no inclination for this sort of conversation; he passed on, and knocked at the door. No one heard him, no one opened the door. “Mew,” said the cat again; and had Rudy been still a child, he would have understood this language, and known that the cat wished to tell him there was no one at home. So he was obliged to go to the mill and make inquiries, and there he heard that the miller had gone on a journey to Interlachen, and taken Babette with him, to the great shooting festival, which began that morning, and would continue for eight days, and that people from all the German settlements would be there.Poor Rudy! we may well say. It was not a fortunate day for his visit to Bex. He had just to return the way he came, through St. Maurice and Sion, to his home in the valley. But he did not despair. When the sun rose the next morning, his good spirits had returned; indeed he had never really lost them. “Babette is at Interlachen,” said Rudy to himself, “many days’ journey from here. It is certainly a long way for any one who takes the high-road, but not so far if he takes a short cut across the mountain, and that just suits a chamois-hunter. I have been that way before, for it leads to the home of my childhood, where, as a little boy, I lived with my grandfather. And there are shooting matches at Interlachen. I will go, and try to stand first in the match. Babette will be there, and I shall be able to make her acquaintance.”Carrying his light knapsack, which contained his Sunday clothes, on his back, and with his musket and his game-bag over his shoulder, Rudy started to take the shortest way across the mountain. Still it was a great distance. The shooting matches were to commence on that day, and to continue for a whole week. He had been told also that the miller and Babette would remain that time with some relatives at Interlachen. So over the Gemmi Rudy climbed bravely, and determined to descend the side of the Grindelwald. Bright and joyous were his feelings as he stepped lightly onwards, inhaling the invigorating mountain air. The valley sunk as he ascended, the circle of the horizon expanded. One snow-capped peak after another rose before him, till the whole of the glittering Alpine range became visible. Rudy knew each ice-clad peak, and he continued his course towards the Schreckhorn, with its white powdered stone finger raised high in the air.At length he had crossed the highest ridges, and before him lay the green pasture lands sloping down towards the valley, which was once his home. The buoyancy of the air made his heart light. Hill and valley were blooming in luxuriant beauty, and his thoughts were youthful dreams, in which old age or death were out of the question. Life, power, and enjoyment were in the future, and he felt free and light as a bird. And the swallows flew round him, as in the days of his childhood, singing “We and you—you and we.” All was overflowing with joy. Beneath him lay the meadows, covered with velvety green, with the murmuring river flowing through them, and dotted here and there were small wooden houses. He could see the edges of the glaciers, looking like green glass against the soiled snow, and the deep chasms beneath the loftiest glacier. The church bells were ringing, as if to welcome him to his home with their sweet tones. His heart beat quickly, and for a moment he seemed to have foregotten Babette, so full were his thoughts of old recollections. He was, in imagination, once more wandering on the road where, when a little boy, he, with other children, came to sell their curiously carved toy houses. Yonder, behind the fir-trees, still stood his grandfather’s house, his mother’s father, but strangers dwelt in it now. Children came running to him, as he had once done, and wished to sell their wares. One of them offered him an Alpine rose. Rudy took the rose as a good omen, and thought of Babette. He quickly crossed the bridge where the two rivers flow into each other. Here he found a walk over-shadowed with large walnut-trees, and their thick foliage formed a pleasant shade. Very soon he perceived in the distance, waving flags, on which glittered a white cross on a red ground—the standard of the Danes as well as of the Swiss—and before him lay Interlachen.“It is really a splendid town, like none other that I have ever seen,” said Rudy to himself. It was indeed a Swiss town in its holiday dress. Not like the many other towns, crowded with heavy stone houses, stiff and foreign looking. No; here it seemed as if the wooden houses on the hills had run into the valley, and placed themselves in rows and ranks by the side of the clear river, which rushes like an arrow in its course. The streets were rather irregular, it is true, but still this added to their picturesque appearance. There was one street which Rudy thought the prettiest of them all; it had been built since he had visited the town when a little boy. It seemed to him as if all the neatest and most curiously carved toy houses which his grandfather once kept in the large cupboard at home, had been brought out and placed in this spot, and that they had increased in size since then, as the old chestnut trees had done. The houses were called hotels; the woodwork on the windows and balconies was curiously carved.The roofs were gayly painted, and before each house was a flower garden, which separated it from the macadamized high-road. These houses all stood on the same side of the road, so that the fresh, green meadows, in which were cows grazing, with bells on their necks, were not hidden. The sound of these bells is often heard amidst Alpine scenery. These meadows were encircled by lofty hills, which receded a little in the centre, so that the most beautifully formed of Swiss mountains—the snow-crowned Jungfrau— could be distinctly seen glittering in the distance. A number of elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies from foreign lands, and crowds of country people from the neighboring cantons, were assembled in the town. Each marksman wore the number of hits he had made twisted in a garland round his hat. Here were music and singing of all descriptions: hand-organs, trumpets, shouting, and noise. The houses and bridges were adorned with verses and inscriptions. Flags and banners were waving. Shot after shot was fired, which was the best music to Rudy’s ears. And amidst all this excitement he quite forgot Babette, on whose account only he had come. The shooters were thronging round the target, and Rudy was soon amongst them. But when he took his turn to fire, he proved himself the best shot, for he always struck the bull’s-eye.“Who may that young stranger be?” was the inquiry on all sides. “He speaks French as it is spoken in the Swiss cantons.”“And makes himself understood very well when he speaks German,” said some.“He lived here, when a child, with his grandfather, in a house on the road to Grindelwald,” remarked one of the sportsmen.And full of life was this young stranger; his eyes sparkled, his glance was steady, and his arm sure, therefore he always hit the mark. Good fortune gives courage, and Rudy was always courageous. He soon had a circle of friends gathered round him. Every one noticed him, and did him homage. Babette had quite vanished from his thoughts, when he was struck on the shoulder by a heavy hand, and a deep voice said to him in French, “You are from the canton Valais.”Rudy turned round, and beheld a man with a ruddy, pleasant face, and a stout figure. It was the rich miller from Bex. His broad, portly person, hid the slender, lovely Babette; but she came forward and glanced at him with her bright, dark eyes. The rich miller was very much flattered at the thought that the young man, who was acknowledged to be the best shot, and was so praised by every one, should be from his own canton. Now was Rudy really fortunate: he had travelled all this way to this place, and those he had forgotten were now come to seek him. When country people go far from home, they often meet with those they know, and improve their acquaintance. Rudy, by his shooting, had gained the first place in the shooting-match, just as the miller at home at Bex stood first, because of his money and his mill. So the two men shook hands, which they had never done before. Babette, too, held out her hand to Rudy frankly, and he pressed it in his, and looked at her so earnestly, that she blushed deeply. The miller talked of the long journey they had travelled, and of the many towns they had seen. It was his opinion that he had really made as great a journey as if he had travelled in a steamship, a railway carriage, or a post-chaise.“I came by a much shorter way,” said Rudy; “I came over the mountains. There is no road so high that a man may not venture upon it.”“Ah, yes; and break your neck,” said the miller; “and you look like one who will break his neck some day, you are so daring.”“Oh, nothing ever happens to a man if he has confidence in himself,” replied Rudy.The miller’s relations at Interlachen, with whom the miller and Babette were staying, invited Rudy to visit them, when they found he came from the same canton as the miller. It was a most pleasant visit. Good fortune seemed to follow him, as it does those who think and act for themselves, and who remember the proverb, “Nuts are given to us, but they are not cracked for us.” And Rudy was treated by the miller’s relations almost like one of the family, and glasses of wine were poured out to drink to the welfare of the best shooter. Babette clinked glasses with Rudy, and he returned thanks for the toast. In the evening they all took a delightful walk under the walnut-trees, in front of the stately hotels; there were so many people, and such crowding, that Rudy was obliged to offer his arm to Babette. Then he told her how happy it made him to meet people from the canton Vaud,—for Vaud and Valais were neighboring cantons. He spoke of this pleasure so heartily that Babette could not resist giving his arm a slight squeeze; and so they walked on together, and talked and chatted like old acquaintances. Rudy felt inclined to laugh sometimes at the absurd dress and walk of the foreign ladies; but Babette did not wish to make fun of them, for she knew there must be some good, excellent people amongst them; she, herself, had a godmother, who was a high-born English lady. Eighteen years before, when Babette was christened, this lady was staying at Bex, and she stood godmother for her, and gave her the valuable brooch she now wore in her bosom.Her godmother had twice written to her, and this year she was expected to visit Interlachen with her two daughters; “but they are old-maids,” added Babette, who was only eighteen: “they are nearly thirty.” Her sweet little mouth was never still a moment, and all that she said sounded in Rudy’s ears as matters of the greatest importance, and at last he told her what he was longing to tell. How often he had been at Bex, how well he knew the mill, and how often he had seen Babette, when most likely she had not noticed him; and lastly, that full of many thoughts which he could not tell her, he had been to the mill on the evening when she and her father has started on their long journey, but not too far for him to find a way to overtake them. He told her all this, and a great deal more; he told her how much he could endure for her; and that it was to see her, and not the shooting-match, which had brought him to Interlachen. Babette became quite silent after hearing all this; it was almost too much, and it troubled her.And while they thus wandered on, the sun sunk behind the lofty mountains. The Jungfrau stood out in brightness and splendor, as a back-ground to the green woods of the surrounding hills. Every one stood still to look at the beautiful sight, Rudy and Babette among them.“Nothing can be more beautiful than this,” said Babette.“Nothing!” replied Rudy, looking at Babette.“To-morrow I must return home,” remarked Rudy a few minutes afterwards.“Come and visit us at Bex,” whispered Babette; “my father will be pleased to see you.”Chapter 5: On the Way HomeOh, what a number of things Rudy had to carry over the mountains, when he set out to return home! He had three silver cups, two handsome pistols, and a silver coffee-pot. This latter would be useful when he began housekeeping. But all these were not the heaviest weight he had to bear; something mightier and more important he carried with him in his heart, over the high mountains, as he journeyed homeward.Illustration by Alfred Walter Bayes, engraved by the Dalziel Brothers. Illustration from Wikipedia. Used under Creative Commons.The weather was dismally dark, and inclined to rain; the clouds hung low, like a mourning veil on the tops of the mountains, and shrouded their glittering peaks. In the woods could be heard the sound of the axe and the heavy fall of the trunks of the trees, as they rolled down the slopes of the mountains. When seen from the heights, the trunks of these trees looked like slender stems; but on a nearer inspection they were found to be large and strong enough for the masts of a ship. The river murmured monotonously, the wind whistled, and the clouds sailed along hurriedly.Suddenly there appeared, close by Rudy’s side, a young maiden; he had not noticed her till she came quite near to him. She was also going to ascend the mountain. The maiden’s eyes shone with an unearthly power, which obliged you to look into them; they were strange eyes,—clear, deep, and unfathomable.“Hast thou a lover?” asked Rudy; all his thoughts were naturally on love just then.“I have none,” answered the maiden, with a laugh; it was as if she had not spoken the truth.“Do not let us go such a long way round,” said she. “We must keep to the left; it is much shorter.”“Ah, yes,” he replied; “and fall into some crevasse. Do you pretend to be a guide, and not know the road better than that?”“I know every step of the way,” said she; “and my thoughts are collected, while yours are down in the valley yonder. We should think of the Ice Maiden while we are up here; men say she is not kind to their race.”“I fear her not,” said Rudy. “She could not keep me when I was a child; I will not give myself up to her now I am a man.”Darkness came on, the rain fell, and then it began to snow, and the whiteness dazzled the eyes.“Give me your hand,” said the maiden; “I will help you to mount.” And he felt the touch of her icy fingers.“You help me,” cried Rudy; “I do not yet require a woman to help me to climb.” And he stepped quickly forwards away from her.The drifting snow-shower fell like a veil between them, the wind whistled, and behind him he could hear the maiden laughing and singing, and the sound was most strange to hear.“It certainly must be a spectre or a servant of the Ice Maiden,” thought Rudy, who had heard such things talked about when he was a little boy, and had stayed all night on the mountain with the guides.The snow fell thicker than ever, the clouds lay beneath him; he looked back, there was no one to be seen, but he heard sounds of mocking laughter, which were not those of a human voice.When Rudy at length reached the highest part of the mountain, where the path led down to the valley of the Rhone, the snow had ceased, and in the clear heavens he saw two bright stars twinkling. They reminded him of Babette and of himself, and of his future happiness, and his heart glowed at the thought.Chapter 6: The Visit to the MillWhat beautiful things you have brought home!” said his old foster-mother; and her strange-looking eagle-eyes sparkled, while she wriggled and twisted her skinny neck more quickly and strangely than ever. “You have brought good luck with you, Rudy. I must give you a kiss, my dear boy.”Rudy allowed himself to be kissed; but it could be seen by his countenance that he only endured the infliction as a homely duty.“How handsome you are, Rudy!” said the old woman.“Don’t flatter,” said Rudy, with a laugh; but still he was pleased.“I must say once more,” said the old woman, “that you are very lucky.”“Well, in that I believe you are right,” said he, as he thought of Babette. Never had he felt such a longing for that deep valley as he now had. “They must have returned home by this time,” said he to himself, “it is already two days over the time which they fixed upon. I must go to Bex.”So Rudy set out to go to Bex; and when he arrived there, he found the miller and his daughter at home. They received him kindly, and brought him many greetings from their friends at Interlachen. Babette did not say much. She seemed to have become quite silent; but her eyes spoke, and that was quite enough for Rudy. The miller had generally a great deal to talk about, and seemed to expect that every one should listen to his jokes, and laugh at them; for was not he the rich miller? But now he was more inclined to hear Rudy’s adventures while hunting and travelling, and to listen to his descriptions of the difficulties the chamois-hunter has to overcome on the mountain-tops, or of the dangerous snow-drifts which the wind and weather cause to cling to the edges of the rocks, or to lie in the form of a frail bridge over the abyss beneath. The eyes of the brave Rudy sparkled as he described the life of a hunter, or spoke of the cunning of the chamois and their wonderful leaps; also of the powerful fohn and the rolling avalanche. He noticed that the more he described, the more interested the miller became, especially when he spoke of the fierce vulture and of the royal eagle. Not far from Bex, in the canton Valais, was an eagle’s nest, more curiously built under a high, over-hanging rock. In this nest was a young eagle; but who would venture to take it? A young Englishman had offered Rudy a whole handful of gold, if he would bring him the young eagle alive.“There is a limit to everything,” was Rudy’s reply. “The eagle could not be taken; it would be folly to attempt it.”The wine was passed round freely, and the conversation kept up pleasantly; but the evening seemed too short for Rudy, although it was midnight when he left the miller’s house, after this his first visit.While the lights in the windows of the miller’s house still twinkled through the green foliage, out through the open skylight came the parlor-cat on to the roof, and along the water-pipe walked the kitchen-cat to meet her.“What is the news at the mill?” asked the parlor-cat. “Here in the house there is secret love-making going on, which the father knows nothing about. Rudy and Babette have been treading on each other’s paws, under the table, all the evening. They trod on my tail twice, but I did not mew; that would have attracted notice.”“Well, I should have mewed,” said the kitchen-cat.“What might suit the kitchen would not suit the parlor,” said the other. “I am quite curious to know what the miller will say when he finds out this engagement.”Yes, indeed; what would the miller say? Rudy himself was anxious to know that; but to wait till the miller heard of it from others was out of the question. Therefore, not many days after this visit, he was riding in the omnibus that runs between the two cantons, Valais and Vaud. These cantons are separated by the Rhone, over which is a bridge that unites them. Rudy, as usual, had plenty of courage, and indulged in pleasant thoughts of the favorable answer he should receive that evening. And when the omnibus returned, Rudy was again seated in it, going homewards; and at the same time the parlor-cat at the miller’s house ran out quickly, crying,—“Here, you from the kitchen, what do you think? The miller knows all now. Everything has come to a delightful end. Rudy came here this evening, and he and Babette had much whispering and secret conversation together. They stood in the path near the miller’s room. I lay at their feet; but they had no eyes or thoughts for me.“‘I will go to your father at once,’ said he; ‘it is the most honorable way.’“‘Shall I go with you?’ asked Babette; ‘it will give you courage.’“‘I have plenty of courage,’ said Rudy; ‘but if you are with me, he must be friendly, whether he says Yes or No.’”So they turned to go in, and Rudy trod heavily on my tail; he certainly is very clumsy. I mewed; but neither he nor Babette had any ears for me. They opened the door, and entered together. I was before them, and jumped on the back of a chair. I hardly know what Rudy said; but the miller flew into a rage, and threatened to kick him out of the house. He told him he might go to the mountains, and look after the chamois, but not after our little Babette.””And what did they say? Did they speak?” asked the kitchen-cat.”What did they say! why, all that people generally do say when they go a-wooing—‘I love her, and she loves me; and when there is milk in the can for one, there is milk in the can for two.’“‘But she is so far above you,’ said the miller; ‘she has heaps of gold, as you know. You should not attempt to reach her.’“‘There is nothing so high that a man cannot reach, if he will,’ answered Rudy; for he is a brave youth.“‘Yet you could not reach the young eagle,’ said the miller, laughing. ‘Babette is higher than the eagle’s nest.’“‘I will have them both,’ said Rudy.“‘Very well; I will give her to you when you bring me the young eaglet alive,’ said the miller; and he laughed till the tears stood in his eyes. ‘But now I thank you for this visit, Rudy; and if you come to-morrow, you will find nobody at home. Good-bye, Rudy.’“Babette also wished him farewell; but her voice sounded as mournful as the mew of a little kitten that has lost its mother.“‘A promise is a promise between man and man,’ said Rudy. ‘Do not weep, Babette; I shall bring the young eagle.’“‘You will break your neck, I hope,’ said the miller, ‘and we shall be relieved from your company.’“I call that kicking him out of the house,” said the parlor-cat. “And now Rudy is gone, and Babette sits and weeps, while the miller sings German songs that he learnt on his journey; but I do not trouble myself on the matter,—it would be of no use.”“Yet, for all that, it is a very strange affair,” said the kitchen-cat.Chapter 7: The Eagle’s NestFrom the mountain-path came a joyous sound of some person whistling, and it betokened good humor and undaunted courage. It was Rudy, going to meet his friend Vesinaud. “You must come and help,” said he. “I want to carry off the young eaglet from the top of the rock. We will take young Ragli with us.”“Had you not better first try to take down the moon? That would be quite as easy a task,” said Vesinaud. “You seem to be in good spirits.”“Yes, indeed I am. I am thinking of my wedding. But to be serious, I will tell you all about it, and how I am situated.”Then he explained to Vesinaud and Ragli what he wished to do, and why.“You are a daring fellow,” said they; “but it is no use; you will break your neck.”“No one falls, unless he is afraid,” said Rudy.So at midnight they set out, carrying with them poles, ladders, and ropes. The road lay amidst brushwood and underwood, over rolling stones, always upwards higher and higher in the dark night. Waters roared beneath them, or fell in cascades from above. Humid clouds were driving through the air as the hunters reached the precipitous ledge of the rock. It was even darker here, for the sides of the rocks almost met, and the light penetrated only through a small opening at the top. At a little distance from the edge could be heard the sound of the roaring, foaming waters in the yawning abyss beneath them. The three seated themselves on a stone, to await in stillness the dawn of day, when the parent eagle would fly out, as it would be necessary to shoot the old bird before they could think of gaining possession of the young one. Rudy sat motionless, as if he had been part of the stone on which he sat. He held his gun ready to fire, with his eyes fixed steadily on the highest point of the cliff, where the eagle’s nest lay concealed beneath the overhanging rock.The three hunters had a long time to wait. At last they heard a rustling, whirring sound above them, and a large hovering object darkened the air. Two guns were ready to aim at the dark body of the eagle as it rose from the nest. Then a shot was fired; for an instant the bird fluttered its wide-spreading wings, and seemed as if it would fill up the whole of the chasm, and drag down the hunters in its fall. But it was not so; the eagle sunk gradually into the abyss beneath, and the branches of trees and bushes were broken by its weight. Then the hunters roused themselves: three of the longest ladders were brought and bound together; the topmost ring of these ladders would just reach the edge of the rock which hung over the abyss, but no farther. The point beneath which the eagle’s nest lay sheltered was much higher, and the sides of the rock were as smooth as a wall. After consulting together, they determined to bind together two more ladders, and to hoist them over the cavity, and so form a communication with the three beneath them, by binding the upper ones to the lower. With great difficulty they contrived to drag the two ladders over the rock, and there they hung for some moments, swaying over the abyss; but no sooner had they fastened them together, than Rudy placed his foot on the lowest step.It was a bitterly cold morning; clouds of mist were rising from beneath, and Rudy stood on the lower step of the ladder as a fly rests on a piece of swinging straw, which a bird may have dropped from the edge of the nest it was building on some tall factory chimney; but the fly could fly away if the straw were shaken, Rudy could only break his neck. The wind whistled around him, and beneath him the waters of the abyss, swelled by the thawing of the glaciers, those palaces of the Ice Maiden, foamed and roared in their rapid course. When Rudy began to ascend, the ladder trembled like the web of the spider, when it draws out the long, delicate threads; but as soon as he reached the fourth of the ladders, which had been bound together, he felt more confidence,—he knew that they had been fastened securely by skilful hands. The fifth ladder, that appeared to reach the nest, was supported by the sides of the rock, yet it swung to and fro, and flapped about like a slender reed, and as if it had been bound by fishing lines. It seemed a most dangerous undertaking to ascend it, but Rudy knew how to climb; he had learnt that from the cat, and he had no fear. He did not observe Vertigo, who stood in the air behind him, trying to lay hold of him with his outstretched polypous arms.When at length he stood on the topmost step of the ladder, he found that he was still some distance below the nest, and not even able to see into it. Only by using his hands and climbing could he possibly reach it. He tried the strength of the stunted trees, and the thick underwood upon which the nest rested, and of which it was formed, and finding they would support his weight, he grasped them firmly, and swung himself up from the ladder till his head and breast were above the nest, and then what an overpowering stench came from it, for in it lay the putrid remains of lambs, chamois, and birds. Vertigo, although he could not reach him, blew the poisonous vapor in his face, to make him giddy and faint; and beneath, in the dark, yawning deep, on the rushing waters, sat the Ice Maiden, with her long, pale, green hair falling around her, and her death-like eyes fixed upon him, like the two barrels of a gun. “I have thee now,” she cried.In a corner of the eagle’s nest sat the young eaglet, a large and powerful bird, though still unable to fly. Rudy fixed his eyes upon it, held on by one hand with all his strength, and with the other threw a noose round the young eagle. The string slipped to its legs. Rudy tightened it, and thus secured the bird alive. Then flinging the sling over his shoulder, so that the creature hung a good way down behind him, he prepared to descend with the help of a rope, and his foot soon touched safely the highest step of the ladder. Then Rudy, remembering his early lesson in climbing, “Hold fast, and do not fear,” descended carefully down the ladders, and at last stood safely on the ground with the young living eaglet, where he was received with loud shouts of joy and congratulations.Chapter 8: What Fresh News the Parlor-Cat Had to TellThere is what you asked for,” said Rudy, as he entered the miller’s house at Bex, and placed on the floor a large basket. He removed the lid as he spoke, and a pair of yellow eyes, encircled by a black ring, stared forth with a wild, fiery glance, that seemed ready to burn and destroy all that came in its way. Its short, strong beak was open, ready to bite, and on its red throat were short feathers, like stubble.“The young eaglet!” cried the miller.Babette screamed, and started back, while her eyes wandered from Rudy to the bird in astonishment.“You are not to be discouraged by difficulties, I see,” said the miller.“And you will keep your word,” replied Rudy. “Each has his own characteristic, whether it is honor or courage.”“But how is it you did not break your neck?” asked the miller.“Because I held fast,” answered Rudy; “and I mean to hold fast to Babette.”“You must get her first,” said the miller, laughing; and Babette thought this a very good sign.“We must take the bird out of the basket,” said she. “It is getting into a rage; how its eyes glare. How did you manage to conquer it?”Then Rudy had to describe his adventure, and the miller’s eyes opened wide as he listened.“With your courage and your good fortune you might win three wives,” said the miller.“Oh, thank you,” cried Rudy.“But you have not won Babette yet,” said the miller, slapping the young Alpine hunter on the shoulder playfully.“Have you heard the fresh news at the mill?” asked the parlor-cat of the kitchen-cat. “Rudy has brought us the young eagle, and he is to take Babette in exchange. They kissed each other in the presence of the old man, which is as good as an engagement. He was quite civil about it; drew in his claws, and took his afternoon nap, so that the two were left to sit and wag their tails as much as they pleased. They have so much to talk about that it will not be finished till Christmas.” Neither was it finished till Christmas.The wind whirled the faded, fallen leaves; the snow drifted in the valleys, as well as upon the mountains, and the Ice Maiden sat in the stately palace which, in winter time, she generally occupied. The perpendicular rocks were covered with slippery ice, and where in summer the stream from the rocks had left a watery veil, icicles large and heavy hung from the trees, while the snow-powdered fir-trees were decorated with fantastic garlands of crystal. The Ice Maiden rode on the howling wind across the deep valleys, the country, as far as Bex, was covered with a carpet of snow, so that the Ice Maiden could follow Rudy, and see him, when he visited the mill; and while in the room at the miller’s house, where he was accustomed to spend so much of his time with Babette. The wedding was to take place in the following summer, and they heard enough of it, for so many of their friends spoke of the matter.Then came sunshine to the mill. The beautiful Alpine roses bloomed, and joyous, laughing Babette, was like the early spring, which makes all the birds sing of summer time and bridal days.“How those two do sit and chatter together,” said the parlor-cat; “I have had enough of their mewing.”Chapter 9: The Ice MaidenThe walnut and chestnut trees, which extend from the bridge of St. Maurice, by the river Rhone, to the shores of the lake of Geneva, were already covered with the delicate green garlands of early spring, just bursting into bloom, while the Rhone rushed wildly from its source among the green glaciers which form the ice palace of the Ice Maiden. She sometimes allows herself to be carried by the keen wind to the lofty snow-fields, where she stretches herself in the sunshine on the soft snowy-cushions. From thence she throws her far-seeing glance into the deep valley beneath, where human beings are busily moving about like ants on a stone in the sun. “Spirits of strength, as the children of the sun call you,” cried the Ice Maiden, “ye are but worms! Let but a snow-ball roll, and you and your houses and your towns are crushed and swept away.”And she raised her proud head, and looked around her with eyes that flashed death from their glance. From the valley came a rumbling sound; men were busily at work blasting the rocks to form tunnels, and laying down roads for the railway. “They are playing at work underground, like moles,” said she. “They are digging passages beneath the earth, and the noise is like the reports of cannons. I shall throw down my palaces, for the clamor is louder than the roar of thunder.” Then there ascended from the valley a thick vapor, which waved itself in the air like a fluttering veil. It rose, as a plume of feathers, from a steam engine, to which, on the lately-opened railway, a string of carriages was linked, carriage to carriage, looking like a winding serpent. The train shot past with the speed of an arrow. “They play at being masters down there, those spirits of strength!” exclaimed the Ice Maiden; “but the powers of nature are still the rulers.” And she laughed and sang till her voice sounded through the valley, and people said it was the rolling of an avalanche. But the children of the sun sang in louder strains in praise of the mind of man, which can span the sea as with a yoke, can level mountains, and fill up valleys. It is the power of thought which gives man the mastery over nature.Just at this moment there came across the snow-field, where the Ice Maiden sat, a party of travellers. They had bound themselves fast to each other, so that they looked like one large body on the slippery plains of ice encircling the deep abyss.“Worms!” exclaimed the Ice Maiden. “You, the lords of the powers of nature!” And she turned away and looked maliciously at the deep valley where the railway train was rushing by. “There they sit, these thoughts!” she exclaimed. “There they sit in their power over nature’s strength. I see them all. One sits proudly apart, like a king; others sit together in a group; yonder, half of them are asleep; and when the steam dragon stops, they will get out and go their way. The thoughts go forth into the world,” and she laughed.“There goes another avalanche,” said those in the valley beneath.“It will not reach us,” said two who sat together behind the steam dragon. “Two hearts and one beat,” as people say. They were Rudy and Babette, and the miller was with them. “I am like the luggage,” said he; “I am here as a necessary appendage.”“There sit those two,” said the Ice Maiden. “Many a chamois have I crushed. Millions of Alpine roses have I snapped and broken off; not a root have I spared. I know them all, and their thoughts, those spirits of strength!” and again she laughed.“There rolls another avalanche,” said those in the valley.Chapter 10: The GodmotherAt Montreux, one of the towns which encircle the northeast part of the lake of Geneva, lived Babette’s godmother, the noble English lady, with her daughters and a young relative. They had only lately arrived, yet the miller had paid them a visit, and informed them of Babette’s engagement to Rudy. The whole story of their meeting at Interlachen, and his brave adventure with the eaglet, were related to them, and they were all very much interested, and as pleased about Rudy and Babette as the miller himself. The three were invited to come to Montreux; it was but right for Babette to become acquainted with her godmother, who wished to see her very much. A steam-boat started from the town of Villeneuve, at one end of the lake of Geneva, and arrived at Bernex, a little town beyond Montreux, in about half an hour. And in this boat, the miller, with his daughter and Rudy, set out to visit her godmother.They passed the coast which has been so celebrated in song. Here, under the walnut-trees, by the deep blue lake, sat Byron, and wrote his melodious verses about the prisoner confined in the gloomy castle of Chillon. Here, where Clarens, with its weeping-willows, is reflected in the clear water, wandered Rousseau, dreaming of Heloise. The river Rhone glides gently by beneath the lofty snow-capped hills of Savoy, and not far from its mouth lies a little island in the lake, so small that, seen from the shore, it looks like a ship. The surface of the island is rocky; and about a hundred years ago, a lady caused the ground to be covered with earth, in which three acacia-trees were planted, and the whole enclosed with stone walls. The acacia-trees now overshadow every part of the island. Babette was enchanted with the spot; it seemed to her the most beautiful object in the whole voyage, and she thought how much she should like to land there. But the steam-ship passed it by, and did not stop till it reached Bernex. The little party walked slowly from this place to Montreux, passing the sun-lit walls with which the vineyards of the little mountain town of Montreux are surrounded, and peasants’ houses, overshadowed by fig-trees, with gardens in which grow the laurel and the cypress.Halfway up the hill stood the boarding-house in which Babette’s godmother resided. She was received most cordially; her godmother was a very friendly woman, with a round, smiling countenance. When a child, her head must have resembled one of Raphael’s cherubs; it was still an angelic face, with its white locks of silvery hair. The daughters were tall, elegant, slender maidens.The young cousin, whom they had brought with them, was dressed in white from head to foot; he had golden hair and golden whiskers, large enough to be divided amongst three gentlemen; and he began immediately to pay the greatest attention to Babette.Richly bound books, note-paper, and drawings, lay on the large table. The balcony window stood open, and from it could be seen the beautiful wide extended lake, the water so clear and still, that the mountains of Savoy, with their villages, woods, and snow-crowned peaks, were clearly reflected in it.Rudy, who was usually so lively and brave, did not in the least feel himself at home; he acted as if he were walking on peas, over a slippery floor. How long and wearisome the time appeared; it was like being in a treadmill. And then they went out for a walk, which was very slow and tedious. Two steps forward and one backwards had Rudy to take to keep pace with the others. They walked down to Chillon, and went over the old castle on the rocky island. They saw the implements of torture, the deadly dungeons, the rusty fetters in the rocky walls, the stone benches for those condemned to death, the trap-doors through which the unhappy creatures were hurled upon iron spikes, and impaled alive. They called looking at all these a pleasure. It certainly was the right place to visit. Byron’s poetry had made it celebrated in the world. Rudy could only feel that it was a place of execution. He leaned against the stone framework of the window, and gazed down into the deep, blue water, and over to the little island with the three acacias, and wished himself there, away and free from the whole chattering party. But Babette was most unusually lively and good-tempered.“I have been so amused,” she said.The cousin had found her quite perfect.“He is a perfect fop,” said Rudy; and this was the first time Rudy had said anything that did not please Babette.The Englishman had made her a present of a little book, in remembrance of their visit to Chillon. It was Byron’s poem, “The Prisoner of Chillon,” translated into French, so that Babette could read it.“The book may be very good,” said Rudy; “but that finely combed fellow who gave it to you is not worth much.”“He looks something like a flour-sack without any flour,” said the miller, laughing at his own wit. Rudy laughed, too, for so had he appeared to him.Chapter 11: The CousinWhen Rudy went a few days after to pay a visit to the mill, he found the young Englishman there. Babette was just thinking of preparing some trout to set before him. She understood well how to garnish the dish with parsley, and make it look quite tempting. Rudy thought all this quite unnecessary. What did the Englishman want there? What was he about? Why should he be entertained, and waited upon by Babette? Rudy was jealous, and that made Babette happy. It amused her to discover all the feelings of his heart; the strong points and weak ones. Love was to her as yet only a pastime, and she played with Rudy’s whole heart. At the same time it must be acknowledged that her fortune, her whole life, her inmost thoughts, her best and most noble feelings in this world were all for him. Still the more gloomy he looked, the more her eyes laughed. She could almost have kissed the fair Englishman, with the golden whiskers, if by so doing she could have put Rudy in a rage, and made him run out of the house. That would have proved how much he loved her. All this was not right in Babette, but she was only nineteen years of age, and she did not reflect on what she did, neither did she think that her conduct would appear to the young Englishman as light, and not even becoming the modest and much-loved daughter of the miller.The mill at Bex stood in the highway, which passed under the snow-clad mountains, and not far from a rapid mountain-stream, whose waters seemed to have been lashed into a foam like soap-suds. This stream, however, did not pass near enough to the mill, and therefore the mill-wheel was turned by a smaller stream which tumbled down the rocks on the opposite side, where it was opposed by a stone mill-dam, and obtained greater strength and speed, till it fell into a large basin, and from thence through a channel to the mill-wheel. This channel sometimes overflowed, and made the path so slippery that any one passing that way might easily fall in, and be carried towards the mill wheel with frightful rapidity. Such a catastrophe nearly happened to the young Englishman. He had dressed himself in white clothes, like a miller’s man, and was climbing the path to the miller’s house, but he had never been taught to climb, and therefore slipped, and nearly went in head-foremost. He managed, however, to scramble out with wet sleeves and bespattered trousers. Still, wet and splashed with mud, he contrived to reach Babette’s window, to which he had been guided by the light that shone from it. Here he climbed the old linden-tree that stood near it, and began to imitate the voice of an owl, the only bird he could venture to mimic. Babette heard the noise, and glanced through the thin window curtain; but when she saw the man in white, and guessed who he was, her little heart beat with terror as well as anger. She quickly put out the light, felt if the fastening of the window was secure, and then left him to howl as long as he liked. How dreadful it would be, thought Babette, if Rudy were here in the house. But Rudy was not in the house. No, it was much worse, he was outside, standing just under the linden-tree. He was speaking loud, angry words. He could fight, and there might be murder! Babette opened the window in alarm, and called Rudy’s name; she told him to go away, she did not wish him to remain there.“You do not wish me to stay,” cried he; “then this is an appointment you expected—this good friend whom you prefer to me. Shame on you, Babette!”“You are detestable!” exclaimed Babette, bursting into tears. “Go away. I hate you.”“I have not deserved this,” said Rudy, as he turned away, his cheeks burning, and his heart like fire.Babette threw herself on the bed, and wept bitterly. “So much as I loved thee, Rudy, and yet thou canst think ill of me.”Thus her anger broke forth; it relieved her, however: otherwise she would have been more deeply grieved; but now she could sleep soundly, as youth only can sleep.Chapter 12: Evil PowersRudy left Bex, and took his way home along the mountain path. The air was fresh, but cold; for here amidst the deep snow, the Ice Maiden reigned. He was so high up that the large trees beneath him, with their thick foliage, appeared like garden plants, and the pines and bushes even less. The Alpine roses grew near the snow, which lay in detached stripes, and looked like linen laid out to bleach. A blue gentian grew in his path, and he crushed it with the butt end of his gun. A little higher up, he espied two chamois. Rudy’s eyes glistened, and his thoughts flew at once in a different direction; but he was not near enough to take a sure aim. He ascended still higher, to a spot where a few rough blades of grass grew between the blocks of stone and the chamois passed quietly on over the snow-fields. Rudy walked hurriedly, while the clouds of mist gathered round him. Suddenly he found himself on the brink of a precipitous rock. The rain was falling in torrents. He felt a burning thirst, his head was hot, and his limbs trembled with cold. He seized his hunting-flask, but it was empty; he had not thought of filling it before ascending the mountain. He had never been ill in his life, nor ever experienced such sensations as those he now felt. He was so tired that he could scarcely resist lying down at his full length to sleep, although the ground was flooded with the rain. Yet when he tried to rouse himself a little, every object around him danced and trembled before his eyes.Suddenly he observed in the doorway of a hut newly built under the rock, a young maiden. He did not remember having seen this hut before, yet there it stood; and he thought, at first, that the young maiden was Annette, the schoolmaster’s daughter, whom he had once kissed in the dance. The maiden was not Annette; yet it seemed as if he had seen her somewhere before, perhaps near Grindelwald, on the evening of his return home from Interlachen, after the shooting-match.“How did you come here?” he asked.“I am at home,” she replied; “I am watching my flocks.”“Your flocks!” he exclaimed; “where do they find pasture? There is nothing here but snow and rocks.”“Much you know of what grows here,” she replied, laughing. “not far beneath us there is beautiful pasture-land. My goats go there. I tend them carefully; I never miss one. What is once mine remains mine.”“You are bold,” said Rudy.“And so are you,” she answered.“Have you any milk in the house?” he asked; “if so, give me some to drink; my thirst is intolerable.”“I have something better than milk,” she replied, “which I will give you. Some travellers who were here yesterday with their guide left behind them a half a flask of wine, such as you have never tasted. They will not come back to fetch it, I know, and I shall not drink it; so you shall have it.”Then the maiden went to fetch the wine, poured some into a wooden cup, and offered it to Rudy.“How good it is!” said he; “I have never before tasted such warm, invigorating wine.” And his eyes sparkled with new life; a glow diffused itself over his frame; it seemed as if every sorrow, every oppression were banished from his mind, and a fresh, free nature were stirring within him. “You are surely Annette, the schoolmaster’s daughter,” cried he; “will you give me a kiss?”“Yes, if you will give me that beautiful ring which you wear on your finger.”“My betrothal ring?” he replied.“Yes, just so,” said the maiden, as she poured out some more wine, and held it to his lips. Again he drank, and a living joy streamed through every vein.“The whole world is mine, why therefore should I grieve?” thought he. “Everything is created for our enjoyment and happiness. The stream of life is a stream of happiness; let us flow on with it to joy and felicity.”Rudy gazed on the young maiden; it was Annette, and yet it was not Annette; still less did he suppose it was the spectral phantom, whom he had met near Grindelwald. The maiden up here on the mountain was fresh as the new fallen snow, blooming as an Alpine rose, and as nimble-footed as a young kid. Still, she was one of Adam’s race, like Rudy. He flung his arms round the beautiful being, and gazed into her wonderfully clear eyes,—only for a moment; but in that moment words cannot express the effect of his gaze. Was it the spirit of life or of death that overpowered him? Was he rising higher, or sinking lower and lower into the deep, deadly abyss? He knew not; but the walls of ice shone like blue-green glass; innumerable clefts yawned around him, and the water-drops tinkled like the chiming of church bells, and shone clearly as pearls in the light of a pale-blue flame. The Ice Maiden, for she it was, kissed him, and her kiss sent a chill as of ice through his whole frame. A cry of agony escaped from him; he struggled to get free, and tottered from her. For a moment all was dark before his eyes, but when he opened them again it was light, and the Alpine maiden had vanished. The powers of evil had played their game; the sheltering hut was no more to be seen. The water trickled down the naked sides of the rocks, and snow lay thickly all around. Rudy shivered with cold; he was wet through to the skin; and his ring was gone,—the betrothal ring that Babette had given him. His gun lay near him in the snow; he took it up and tried to discharge it, but it missed fire. Heavy clouds lay on the mountain clefts, like firm masses of snow. Upon one of these Vertigo sat, lurking after his powerless prey, and from beneath came a sound as if a piece of rock had fallen from the cleft, and was crushing everything that stood in its way or opposed its course.But, at the miller’s, Babette sat alone and wept. Rudy had not been to see her for six days. He who was in the wrong, and who ought to ask her forgiveness; for did she not love him with her whole heart?Chapter 13: At the MillWhat strange creatures human beings are,” said the parlor-cat to the kitchen-cat; “Babette and Rudy have fallen out with each other. She sits and cries, and he thinks no more about her.”“That does not please me to hear,” said the kitchen-cat.“Nor me either,” replied the parlor-cat; “but I do not take it to heart. Babette may fall in love with the red whiskers, if she likes, but he has not been here since he tried to get on the roof.”The powers of evil carry on their game both around us and within us. Rudy knew this, and thought a great deal about it. What was it that had happened to him on the mountain? Was it really a ghostly apparition, or a fever dream? Rudy knew nothing of fever, or any other ailment. But, while he judged Babette, he began to examine his own conduct. He had allowed wild thoughts to chase each other in his heart, and a fierce tornado to break loose. Could he confess to Babette, indeed, every thought which in the hour of temptation might have led him to wrong doing? He had lost her ring, and that very loss had won him back to her. Could she expect him to confess? He felt as if his heart would break while he thought of it, and while so many memories lingered on his mind. He saw her again, as she once stood before him, a laughing, spirited child; many loving words, which she had spoken to him out of the fulness of her love, came like a ray of sunshine into his heart, and soon it was all sunshine as he thought of Babette. But she must also confess she was wrong; that she should do.He went to the mill—he went to confession. It began with a kiss, and ended with Rudy being considered the offender. It was such a great fault to doubt Babette’s truth—it was most abominable of him. Such mistrust, such violence, would cause them both great unhappiness. This certainly was very true, she knew that; and therefore Babette preached him a little sermon, with which she was herself much amused, and during the preaching of which she looked quite lovely. She acknowledged, however, that on one point Rudy was right. Her godmother’s nephew was a fop: she intended to burn the book which he had given her, so that not the slightest thing should remain to remind her of him.“Well, that quarrel is all over,” said the kitchen-cat. “Rudy is come back, and they are friends again, which they say is the greatest of all pleasures.”“I heard the rats say one night,” said the kitchen-cat, “that the greatest pleasure in the world was to eat tallow candles and to feast on rancid bacon. Which are we to believe, the rats or the lovers?”“Neither of them,” said the parlor-cat; “it is always the safest plan to believe nothing you hear.”The greatest happiness was coming for Rudy and Babette. The happy day, as it is called, that is, their wedding-day, was near at hand. They were not to be married at the church at Bex, nor at the miller’s house; Babette’s godmother wished the nuptials to be solemnized at Montreux, in the pretty little church in that town. The miller was very anxious that this arrangement should be agreed to. He alone knew what the newly-married couple would receive from Babette’s godmother, and he knew also that it was a wedding present well worth a concession. The day was fixed, and they were to travel as far as Villeneuve the evening before, to be in time for the steamer which sailed in the morning for Montreux, and the godmother’s daughters were to dress and adorn the bride.“Here in this house there ought to be a wedding-day kept,” said the parlor-cat, “or else I would not give a mew for the whole affair.”“There is going to be great feasting,” replied the kitchen-cat. “Ducks and pigeons have been killed, and a whole roebuck hangs on the wall. It makes me lick my lips when I think of it.”“To-morrow morning they will begin the journey.”Yes, to-morrow! And this evening, for the last time, Rudy and Babette sat in the miller’s house as an engaged couple. Outside, the Alps glowed in the evening sunset, the evening bells chimed, and the children of the sunbeam sang, “Whatever happens is best.”Chapter 14: Night VisionsThe sun had gone down, and the clouds lay low on the valley of the Rhone. The wind blew from the south across the mountains; it was an African wind, a wind which scattered the clouds for a moment, and then suddenly fell. The broken clouds hung in fantastic forms upon the wood-covered hills by the rapid Rhone. They assumed the shapes of antediluvian animals, of eagles hovering in the air, of frogs leaping over a marsh, and then sunk down upon the rushing stream and appeared to sail upon it, although floating in the air. An uprooted fir-tree was being carried away by the current, and marking out its path by eddying circles on the water. Vertigo and his sisters were dancing upon it, and raising these circles on the foaming river. The moon lighted up the snow on the mountain-tops, shone on the dark woods, and on the drifting clouds those fantastic forms which at night might be taken for spirits of the powers of nature. The mountain-dweller saw them through the panes of his little window. They sailed in hosts before the Ice Maiden as she came out of her palace of ice. Then she seated herself on the trunk of the fir-tree as on a broken skiff, and the water from the glaciers carried her down the river to the open lake.“The wedding guests are coming,” sounded from air and sea. These were the sights and sounds without; within there were visions, for Babette had a wonderful dream. She dreamt that she had been married to Rudy for many years, and that, one day when he was out chamois hunting, and she alone in their dwelling at home, the young Englishman with the golden whiskers sat with her. His eyes were quite eloquent, and his words possessed a magic power; he offered her his hand, and she was obliged to follow him. They went out of the house and stepped downwards, always downwards, and it seemed to Babette as if she had a weight on her heart which continually grew heavier. She felt she was committing a sin against Rudy, a sin against God. Suddenly she found herself forsaken, her clothes torn by the thorns, and her hair gray; she looked upwards in her agony, and there, on the edge of the rock, she espied Rudy. She stretched out her arms to him, but she did not venture to call him or to pray; and had she called him, it would have been useless, for it was not Rudy, only his hunting coat and hat hanging on an alpenstock, as the hunters sometimes arrange them to deceive the chamois. “Oh!” she exclaimed in her agony; “oh, that I had died on the happiest day of my life, my wedding-day. O my God, it would have been a mercy and a blessing had Rudy travelled far away from me, and I had never known him. None know what will happen in the future.” And then, in ungodly despair, she cast herself down into the deep rocky gulf. The spell was broken; a cry of terror escaped her, and she awoke.The dream was over; it had vanished. But she knew she had dreamt something frightful about the young Englishman, yet months had passed since she had seen him or even thought of him. Was he still at Montreux, and should she meet him there on her wedding day? A slight shadow passed over her pretty mouth as she thought of this, and she knit her brows; but the smile soon returned to her lip, and joy sparkled in her eyes, for this was the morning of the day on which she and Rudy were to be married, and the sun was shining brightly. Rudy was already in the parlor when she entered it, and they very soon started for Villeneuve. Both of them were overflowing with happiness, and the miller was in the best of tempers, laughing and merry; he was a good, honest soul, and a kind father.“Now we are masters of the house,” said the parlor-cat.Chapter 15: The ConclusionIt was early in the afternoon, and just at dinner-time, when the three joyous travellers reached Villeneuve. After dinner, the miller placed himself in the arm-chair, smoked his pipe, and had a little nap. The bridal pair went arm-in-arm out through the town and along the high road, at the foot of the wood-covered rocks, and by the deep, blue lake.The gray walls, and the heavy clumsy-looking towers of the gloomy castle of Chillon, were reflected in the clear flood. The little island, on which grew the three acacias, lay at a short distance, looking like a bouquet rising from the lake. “How delightful it must be to live there,” said Babette, who again felt the greatest wish to visit the island; and an opportunity offered to gratify her wish at once, for on the shore lay a boat, and the rope by which it was moored could be very easily loosened. They saw no one near, so they took possession of it without asking permission of any one, and Rudy could row very well. The oars divided the pliant water like the fins of a fish—that water which, with all its yielding softness, is so strong to bear and to carry, so mild and smiling when at rest, and yet so terrible in its destroying power. A white streak of foam followed in the wake of the boat, which, in a few minutes, carried them both to the little island, where they went on shore; but there was only just room enough for two to dance. Rudy swung Babette round two or three times; and then, hand-in-hand, they sat down on a little bench under the drooping acacia-tree, and looked into each other’s eyes, while everything around them glowed in the rays of the setting sun.The fir-tree forests on the mountains were covered with a purple hue like the heather bloom; and where the woods terminated, and the rocks became prominent, they looked almost transparent in the rich crimson glow of the evening sky. The surface of the lake was like a bed of pink rose-leaves.As the evening advanced, the shadows fell upon the snow-capped mountains of Savoy painting them in colors of deep blue, while their topmost peaks glowed like red lava; and for a moment this light was reflected on the cultivated parts of the mountains, making them appear as if newly risen from the lap of earth, and giving to the snow-crested peak of the Dent du Midi the appearance of the full moon as it rises above the horizon.Rudy and Babette felt that they had never seen the Alpine glow in such perfection before. “How very beautiful it is, and what happiness to be here!” exclaimed Babette.“Earth has nothing more to bestow upon me,” said Rudy; “an evening like this is worth a whole life. Often have I realized my good fortune, but never more than in this moment. I feel that if my existence were to end now, I should still have lived a happy life. What a glorious world this is; one day ends, and another begins even more beautiful than the last. How infinitely good God is, Babette!”“I have such complete happiness in my heart,” said she.“Earth has no more to bestow,” answered Rudy. And then came the sound of the evening bells, borne upon the breeze over the mountains of Switzerland and Savoy, while still, in the golden splendor of the west, stood the dark blue mountains of Jura.“God grant you all that is brightest and best!” exclaimed Babette.“He will,” said Rudy. “He will to-morrow. To-morrow you will be wholly mine, my own sweet wife.”“The boat!” cried Babette, suddenly. The boat in which they were to return had broken loose, and was floating away from the island.“I will fetch it back,” said Rudy; throwing off his coat and boots, he sprang into the lake, and swam with strong efforts towards it.The dark-blue water, from the glaciers of the mountains, was icy cold and very deep. Rudy gave but one glance into the water beneath; but in that one glance he saw a gold ring rolling, glittering, and sparkling before him. His engaged ring came into his mind; but this was larger, and spread into a glittering circle, in which appeared a clear glacier. Deep chasms yawned around it, the water-drops glittered as if lighted with blue flame, and tinkled like the chiming of church bells. In one moment he saw what would require many words to describe. Young hunters, and young maidens—men and women who had sunk in the deep chasms of the glaciers—stood before him here in lifelike forms, with eyes open and smiles on their lips; and far beneath them could be heard the chiming of the church bells of buried villages, where the villagers knelt beneath the vaulted arches of churches in which ice-blocks formed the organ pipes, and the mountain stream the music.On the clear, transparent ground sat the Ice Maiden. She raised herself towards Rudy, and kissed his feet; and instantly a cold, deathly chill, like an electric shock, passed through his limbs. Ice or fire! It was impossible to tell, the shock was so instantaneous.“Mine! mine!” sounded around him, and within him; “I kissed thee when thou wert a little child. I once kissed thee on the mouth, and now I have kissed thee from heel to toe; thou art wholly mine.” And then he disappeared in the clear, blue water.All was still. The church bells were silent; the last tone floated away with the last red glimmer on the evening clouds. “Thou art mine,” sounded from the depths below: but from the heights above, from the eternal world, also sounded the words, “Thou art mine!” Happy was he thus to pass from life to life, from earth to heaven. A chord was loosened, and tones of sorrow burst forth. The icy kiss of death had overcome the perishable body; it was but the prelude before life’s real drama could begin, the discord which was quickly lost in harmony. Do you think this a sad story? Poor Babette! for her it was unspeakable anguish.The boat drifted farther and farther away. No one on the opposite shore knew that the betrothed pair had gone over to the little island. The clouds sunk as the evening drew on, and it became dark. Alone, in despair, she waited and trembled. The weather became fearful; flash after flash lighted up the mountains of Jura, Savoy, and Switzerland, while peals of thunder, that lasted for many minutes, rolled over her head. The lightning was so vivid that every single vine stem could be seen for a moment as distinctly as in the sunlight at noon-day; and then all was veiled in darkness. It flashed across the lake in winding, zigzag lines, lighting it up on all sides; while the echoes of the thunder grew louder and stronger. On land, the boats were all carefully drawn up on the beach, every living thing sought shelter, and at length the rain poured down in torrents.“Where can Rudy and Babette be in this awful weather?” said the miller.Poor Babette sat with her hands clasped, and her head bowed down, dumb with grief; she had ceased to weep and cry for help.“In the deep water!” she said to herself; “far down he lies, as if beneath a glacier.”Deep in her heart rested the memory of what Rudy had told her of the death of his mother, and of his own recovery, even after he had been taken up as dead from the cleft in the glacier.“Ah,” she thought, “the Ice Maiden has him at last.”Suddenly there came a flash of lightning, as dazzling as the rays of the sun on the white snow. The lake rose for a moment like a shining glacier; and before Babette stood the pallid, glittering, majestic form of the Ice Maiden, and at her feet lay Rudy’s corpse.“Mine!” she cried, and again all was darkness around the heaving water.“How cruel,” murmured Babette; “why should he die just as the day of happiness drew near? Merciful God, enlighten my understanding, shed light upon my heart; for I cannot comprehend the arrangements of Thy providence, even while I bow to the decree of Thy almighty wisdom and power.” And God did enlighten her heart.A sudden flash of thought, like a ray of mercy, recalled her dream of the preceding night; all was vividly represented before her. She remembered the words and wishes she had then expressed, that what was best for her and for Rudy she might piously submit to.“Woe is me,” she said; “was the germ of sin really in my heart? was my dream a glimpse into the course of my future life, whose thread must be violently broken to rescue me from sin? Oh, miserable creature that I am!”Thus she sat lamenting in the dark night, while through the deep stillness the last words of Rudy seemed to ring in her ears. “This earth has nothing more to bestow.” Words, uttered in the fulness of joy, were again heard amid the depths of sorrow.Years have passed since this sad event happened. The shores of the peaceful lake still smile in beauty. The vines are full of luscious grapes. Steamboats, with waving flags, pass swiftly by. Pleasure-boats, with their swelling sails, skim lightly over the watery mirror, like white butterflies. The railway is opened beyond Chillon, and goes far into the deep valley of the Rhone. At every station strangers alight with red-bound guide-books in their hands, in which they read of every place worth seeing. They visit Chillon, and observe on the lake the little island with the three acacias, and then read in their guide-book the story of the bridal pair who, in the year 1856, rowed over to it. They read that the two were missing till the next morning, when some people on the shore heard the despairing cries of the bride, and went to her assistance, and by her were told of the bridegroom’s fate.But the guide-book does not speak of Babette’s quiet life afterwards with her father, not at the mill—strangers dwell there now—but in a pretty house in a row near the station. On many an evening she sits at her window, and looks out over the chestnut-trees to the snow-capped mountains on which Rudy once roamed. She looks at the Alpine glow in the evening sky, which is caused by the children of the sun retiring to rest on the mountain-tops; and again they breathe their song of the traveller whom the whirlwind could deprive of his cloak but not of his life. There is a rosy tint on the mountain snow, and there are rosy gleams in each heart in which dwells the thought, “God permits nothing to happen, which is not the best for us.” But this is not often revealed to all, as it was revealed to Babette in her wonderful dream.
A fool, in town, did wisdom cry;The people, eager, flock’d to buy.Each for his money got,Paid promptly on the spot,Besides a box upon the head,Two fathoms’ length of thread.The most were vex’d—but quite in vain,The public only mock’d their pain.The wiser they who nothing said,But pocketed the box and thread.To search the meaning of the thingWould only laughs and hisses bring.Hath reason ever guaranteedThe wit of fools in speech or deed?‘Tis said of brainless heads in France,The cause of what they do is chance.One dupe, however, needs must knowWhat meant the thread, and what the blowSo ask’d a sage, to make it sure.“They’re both hieroglyphics pure,”The sage replied without delay;“All people well advised will stayFrom fools this fibre’s length away,Or get—I hold it sure as fate—The other symbol on the pate.So far from cheating you of gold,The fool this wisdom fairly sold.”
In mansion deck’d with frieze and column,Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes;Decrees, promulged in manner solemn,Had pacified their ancient feuds.Their lord had so arranged their meals and labours,And threaten’d quarrels with the whip,That, living in sweet cousinship,They edified their wondering neighbours.At last, some dainty plate to lick,Or profitable bone to pick,Bestow’d by some partiality,Broke up the smooth equality.The side neglected were indignantAt such a slight malignant.From words to blows the altercationSoon grew a perfect conflagration.In hall and kitchen, dog and catTook sides with zeal for this or that.New rules upon the cat side fallingProduced tremendous caterwauling.Their advocate, against such rules as these,Advised recurrence to the old decrees.They search’d in vain, for, hidden in a nook,The thievish mice had eaten up the book.Another quarrel, in a trice,Made many sufferers with the mice;For many a veteran whisker’d-face,With craft and cunning richly stored,And grudges old against the race,Now watch’d to put them to the sword;Nor mourn’d for this that mansion’s lord.Look wheresoever we will, we seeNo creature from opponents free.‘Tis nature’s law for earth and sky;‘Twere vain to ask the reason why:God’s works are good,—I cannot doubt it,—And that is all I know about it.
“You will be very lonely by yourself,” said Raven to Man one day. “I will make you a companion.”He went to a spot some distance from where he had made the animals, and, looking now and then at Man as an artist looks at his model, he made an image very much like Man. He took from the creek some fine water grass and fastened it on the back of the head for hair. After the image had dried in his hands, he waved his wings over it as he had done with all the live things, and it came to life and stood beside Man, a beautiful young woman.“There is a companion for you!” cried Raven. “Now come with me to this knoll over here.”In those days there were no mountains far or near, and the sun never ceased to shine brightly. No rain ever fell and no winds blew. When they came to the knoll Raven found a patch of long, dry moss and showed the pair how to make a bed in it, and they slept very warmly. Raven drew down his mask and slept near by in the form of a bird. Wakening before the others, Raven went to the creek and made three pairs of fishes: sticklebacks, graylings, and blackfish. When they were swimming about in the water, he called to Man, “Come and see what I have made.”When Man saw the sticklebacks swimming up the stream with a wriggling motion, he was so surprised that he raised his hands suddenly and the fish darted away.“Look at these graylings,” said Raven; “they will be found in clear mountain streams, while the sticklebacks are already on their way to the sea. Both are good for food; so, whether you live beside the water or in the upland, you may find plenty to eat.”He looked about and thought there was nothing on the land as lively as the fish in the water, so he made the shrew-mice, for he said, “They will skip about and enliven the ground and prevent it from looking dead and barren, even if they are not good for food.”He kept on for several days making other animals, more fishes, and a few ground birds, for as yet there were no trees for birds to alight in. Every time he made anything he explained to Man what it was and what it would do.After this he flew away to the sky and was gone four days, when he returned bringing a salmon for Man and his wife. He thought that the ponds and lakes seemed silent and lonely, so he made insects to fly over their surfaces, and muskrats and beavers to swim about near their borders. At that time the mosquito did not bite as it does now, and he said to Man:“I made these flying creatures to enliven the world and make it cheerful. The skin of this muskrat you are to use for clothing. The beaver is very cunning and only good hunters can catch it. It will live in the streams and build strong houses, and you must follow its example and build a house.”When a child was born, Raven and Man took it to the creek and rubbed it with clay, and carried it back to the stopping-place on the knoll. The next morning the child was running about pulling up grass and other plants which Raven had caused to grow near by. On the third day the child became a full-grown man.Raven one day went to the creek and made a bear, and gave it life; but he jumped aside very quickly when the bear stood up and looked fiercely about. He had thought there ought to be some animal of which Man would be afraid, and now he was almost afraid of the bear himself.“You would better keep away from that animal,” he said. “It is very fierce and will tear you to pieces if you disturb it.”He made various kinds of seals, and said to Man, “You are to eat these and to take their skins for clothing. Cut some of the skins into strips and make snares to catch deer. But you must not snare deer yet; wait until they are more numerous.”By and by another child was born, and the Man and Woman rubbed it with clay as Raven had taught them to do, and the next day the little girl walked about. On the third day she was a full-grown woman, for in those days people grew up very fast, so that the earth would be peopled.
It was the week before Christmas, and the dolls in the toy-shop played together all night. The biggest one was from Paris.One night she said, “We ought to have a party before Santa Claus carries us away to the little girls. I can dance, and I will show you how.”“I can dance myself if you will pull the string,” said another.“What shall we have for supper?” piped a little boy-doll in a Jersey suit. He was always thinking about eating.“Oh, dear,” cried the French lady, “I don’t know what we shall do for supper!”“I can get the supper,” added a big rag doll. The other dolls had never liked her very well, but they thanked her now. She had taken lessons at a cooking-school, and knew how to make cake and candy. She gave French names to everything she made, and this made it taste better. Old Mother Hubbard was there, and she said the rag doll did not know how to cook anything.They danced in one of the great shop-windows. They opened a toy piano, and a singing-doll played “Comin’ through the Rye,” The dolls did not find that a good tune to dance by; but the lady did not know any other, although she was the most costly doll in the shop. Then they wound up a music-box, and danced by that. This did very well for some tunes; but they had to walk around when it played “Hail Columbia,” and wait for something else. The boy doll had to dance by himself, for he could do nothing but a “break-down.” He would not dance at all unless some one pulled his string. A toy monkey did this; but he would not stop when the dancer was tired.They had supper on one of the counters. The rag doll placed some boxes for tables. The supper was of candy, for there was nothing in the shop to eat but sugar hearts and eggs. The dolls like candy better than anything else, and the supper was splendid. Patsy McQuirk said he could not eat candy. He wanted to know what kind of a supper it was without any potatoes. He got very angry, put his hands into his pockets, and smoked his pipe. It was very uncivil for him to do so in company. The smoke made the little ladies sick, and they all tried to climb into a “horn of plenty” to get out of the way.Mother Hubbard and the two waiters tried to sing “I love Little Pussy;” but the tall one in a brigand hat opened his mouth wide, that the small dollies were afraid they might fall into it. The clown raised both arms in wonder, and Jack in the Box sprang up as high as me could to look down into the fellow’s throat.All the baby-dolls in caps and long dresses had been put to bed. They woke up when the others were at supper, and began to cry. The big doll brought them some candy, and that kept them quiet for some time.The next morning a little girl found the toy piano open. She was sure the dolls had been playing on it. The grown-up people thought it had been left open the night before; but they do not understand dolls as well as little people do.
Once upon a time the king of the Goldland lost himself in a forest, and try as he would he could not find the way out. As he was wandering down one path which had looked at first more hopeful than the rest he saw a man coming towards him.‘What are you doing here, friend?’ asked the stranger; ‘darkness is falling fast, and soon the wild beasts will come from their lairs to seek for food.’‘I have lost myself,’ answered the king, ‘and am trying to get home.’‘Then promise me that you will give me the first thing that comes out of your house, and I will show you the way,’ said the stranger.The king did not answer directly, but after awhile he spoke: ‘Why should I give away my BEST sporting dog. I can surely find my way out of the forest as well as this man.’So the stranger left him, but the king followed path after path for three whole days, with no better success than before. He was almost in despair, when the stranger suddenly appeared, blocking up his way.‘Promise you will give me the first thing that comes out of your house to meet you?’But still the king was stiff-necked and would promise nothing.For some days longer he wandered up and down the forest, trying first one path, then another, but his courage at last gave way, and he sank wearily on the ground under a tree, feeling sure his last hour had come. Then for the third time the stranger stood before the king, and said:‘Why are you such a fool? What can a dog be to you, that you should give your life for him like this? Just promise me the reward I want, and I will guide you out of the forest.’‘Well, my life is worth more than a thousand dogs,’ answered the king, ‘the welfare of my kingdom depends on me. I accept your terms, so take me to my palace.’ Scarcely had he uttered the words than he found himself at the edge of the wood, with the palace in the dim distance. He made all the haste he could, and just as he reached the great gates out came the nurse with the royal baby, who stretched out his arms to his father. The king shrank back, and ordered the nurse to take the baby away at once.Then his great boarhound bounded up to him, but his caresses were only answered by a violent push.When the king’s anger was spent, and he was able to think what was best to be done, he exchanged his baby, a beautiful boy, for the daughter of a peasant, and the prince lived roughly as the son of poor people, while the little girl slept in a golden cradle, under silken sheets. At the end of a year, the stranger arrived to claim his property, and took away the little girl, believing her to be the true child of the king. The king was so delighted with the success of his plan that he ordered a great feast to be got ready, and gave splendid presents to the foster parents of his son, so that he might lack nothing. But he did not dare to bring back the baby, lest the trick should be found out. The peasants were quite contented with this arrangement, which gave them food and money in abundance.By-and-by the boy grew big and tall, and seemed to lead a happy life in the house of his foster parents. But a shadow hung over him which really poisoned most of his pleasure, and that was the thought of the poor innocent girl who had suffered in his stead, for his foster father had told him in secret, that he was the king’s son. And the prince determined that when he grew old enough he would travel all over the world, and never rest till he had set her free. To become king at the cost of a maiden’s life was too heavy a price to pay. So one day he put on the dress of a farm servant, threw a sack of peas on his back, and marched straight into the forest where eighteen years before his father had lost himself. After he had walked some way he began to cry loudly: ‘Oh, how unlucky I am! Where can I be? Is there no one to show me the way out of the wood?’Then appeared a strange man with a long grey beard, with a leather bag hanging from his girdle. He nodded cheerfully to the prince, and said: ‘I know this place well, and can lead you out of it, if you will promise me a good reward.’‘What can a beggar such as I promise you?’ answered the prince. ‘I have nothing to give you save my life; even the coat on my back belongs to my master, whom I serve for my keep and my clothes.’The stranger looked at the sack of peas, and said, ‘But you must possess something; you are carrying this sack, which seems to be very heavy.’‘It is full of peas,’ was the reply. ‘My old aunt died last night, without leaving money enough to buy peas to give the watchers, as is the custom throughout the country. I have borrowed these peas from my master, and thought to take a short cut across the forest; but I have lost myself, as you see.’‘Then you are an orphan?’ asked the stranger. ‘Why should you not enter my service? I want a sharp fellow in the house, and you please me.’‘Why not, indeed, if we can strike a bargain?’ said the other. ‘I was born a peasant, and strange bread is always bitter, so it is the same to me whom I serve! What wages will you give me?’‘Every day fresh food, meat twice a week, butter and vegetables, your summer and winter clothes, and a portion of land for your own use.’‘I shall be satisfied with that,’ said the youth. ‘Somebody else will have to bury my aunt. I will go with you!’Now this bargain seemed to please the old fellow so much that he spun round like a top, and sang so loud that the whole wood rang with his voice. Then he set out with his companion, and chattered so fast that he never noticed that his new servant kept dropping peas out of the sack. At night they slept under a fig tree, and when the sun rose started on their way. About noon they came to a large stone, and here the old fellow stopped, looked carefully round, gave a sharp whistle, and stamped three times on the ground with his left foot. Suddenly there appeared under the stone a secret door, which led to what looked like the mouth of a cave. The old fellow seized the youth by the arm, and said roughly, ‘Follow me!’Thick darkness surrounded them, yet it seemed to the prince as if their path led into still deeper depths. After a long while he thought he saw a glimmer of light, but the light was neither that of the sun nor of the moon. He looked eagerly at it, but found it was only a kind of pale cloud, which was all the light this strange underworld could boast. Earth and water, trees and plants, birds and beasts, each was different from those he had seen before; but what most struck terror into his heart was the absolute stillness that reigned everywhere. Not a rustle or a sound could be heard. Here and there he noticed a bird sitting on a branch, with head erect and swelling throat, but his ear caught nothing. The dogs opened their mouths as if to bark, the toiling oxen seemed about to bellow, but neither bark nor bellow reached the prince. The water flowed noiselessly over the pebbles, the wind bowed the tops of the trees, flies and chafers darted about, without breaking the silence. The old greybeard uttered no word, and when his companion tried to ask him the meaning of it all he felt that his voice died in his throat.How long this fearful stillness lasted I do not know, but the prince gradually felt his heart turning to ice, his hair stood up like bristles, and a cold chill was creeping down his spine, when at last–oh, ecstasy!–a faint noise broke on his straining ears, and this life of shadows suddenly became real. It sounded as if a troop of horses were ploughing their way over a moor.Then the greybeard opened his mouth, and said: ‘The kettle is boiling; we are expected at home.’They walked on a little further, till the prince thought he heard the grinding of a saw-mill, as if dozens of saws were working together, but his guide observed, ‘The grandmother is sleeping soundly; listen how she snores.’When they had climbed a hill which lay before them the prince saw in the distance the house of his master, but it was so surrounded with buildings of all kinds that the place looked more like a village or even a small town. They reached it at last, and found an empty kennel standing in front of the gate. ‘Creep inside this,’ said the master, ‘and wait while I go in and see my grandmother. Like all very old people, she is very obstinate, and cannot bear fresh faces about her.’The prince crept tremblingly into the kennel, and began to regret the daring which had brought him into this scrape.By-and-by the master came back, and called him from his hiding-place. Something had put out his temper, for with a frown he said, ‘Watch carefully our ways in the house, and beware of making any mistake, or it will go ill with you. Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut, obey without questions. Be grateful if you will, but never speak unless you are spoken to.’When the prince stepped over the threshold he caught sight of a maiden of wonderful beauty, with brown eyes and fair curly hair. ‘Well!’ the young man said to himself, ‘if the old fellow has many daughters like that I should not mind being his son-in-law. This one is just what I admire’; and he watched her lay the table, bring in the food, and take her seat by the fire as if she had never noticed that a strange man was present. Then she took out a needle and thread, and began to darn her stockings. The master sat at table alone, and invited neither his new servant nor the maid to eat with him. Neither was the old grandmother anywhere to be seen. His appetite was tremendous: he soon cleared all the dishes, and ate enough to satisfy a dozen men. When at last he could eat no more he said to the girl, ‘Now you can pick up the pieces, and take what is left in the iron pot for your own dinner, but give the bones to the dog.’The prince did not at all like the idea of dining off scraps, which he helped the girl to pick up, but, after all, he found that there was plenty to eat, and that the food was very good. During the meal he stole many glances at the maiden, and would even have spoken to her, but she gave him no encouragement. Every time he opened his mouth for the purpose she looked at him sternly, as if to say, ‘Silence,’ so he could only let his eyes speak for him. Besides, the master was stretched on a bench by the oven after his huge meal, and would have heard everything.After supper that night, the old man said to the prince, ‘For two days you may rest from the fatigues of the journey, and look about the house. But the day after to-morrow you must come with me, and I will point out the work you have to do. The maid will show you where you are to sleep.’The prince thought, from this, he had leave to speak, but his master turned on him with a face of thunder and exclaimed:‘You dog of a servant! If you disobey the laws of the house you will soon find yourself a head shorter! Hold your tongue, and leave me in peace.’The girl made a sign to him to follow her, and, throwing open a door, nodded to him to go in. He would have lingered a moment, for he thought she looked sad, but dared not do so, for fear of the old man’s anger.‘It is impossible that she can be his daughter!’ he said to himself, ‘for she has a kind heart. I am quite sure she must be the same girl who was brought here instead of me, so I am bound to risk my head in this mad adventure.’ He got into bed, but it was long before he fell asleep, and even then his dreams gave him no rest. He seemed to be surrounded by dangers, and it was only the power of the maiden who helped him through it all.When he woke his first thoughts were for the girl, whom he found hard at work. He drew water from the well and carried it to the house for her, kindled the fire under the iron pot, and, in fact, did everything that came into his head that could be of any use to her. In the afternoon he went out, in order to learn something of his new home, and wondered greatly not to come across the old grandmother. In his rambles he came to the farmyard, where a beautiful white horse had a stall to itself; in another was a black cow with two white-faced calves, while the clucking of geese, ducks, and hens reached him from a distance.Breakfast, dinner, and supper were as savoury as before, and the prince would have been quite content with his quarters had it not been for the difficulty of keeping silence in the presence of the maiden. On the evening of the second day he went, as he had been told, to receive his orders for the following morning.‘I am going to set you something very easy to do to-morrow,’ said the old man when his servant entered. ‘Take this scythe and cut as much grass as the white horse will want for its day’s feed, and clean out its stall. If I come back and find the manger empty it will go ill with you. So beware!’The prince left the room, rejoicing in his heart, and saying to himself, ‘Well, I shall soon get through that! If I have never yet handled either the plough or the scythe, at least I have often watched the country people work them, and know how easy it is.’He was just going to open his door, when the maiden glided softly past and whispered in his ear: ‘What task has he set you?’‘For to-morrow,’ answered the prince, ‘it is really nothing at all! Just to cut hay for the horse, and to clean out his stall!’‘Oh, luckless being!’ sighed the girl; ‘how will you ever get through with it. The white horse, who is our master’s grandmother, is always hungry: it takes twenty men always mowing to keep it in food for one day, and another twenty to clean out its stall. How, then, do you expect to do it all by yourself? But listen to me, and do what I tell you. It is your only chance. When you have filled the manger as full as it will hold you must weave a strong plait of the rushes which grow among the meadow hay, and cut a thick peg of stout wood, and be sure that the horse sees what you are doing. Then it will ask you what it is for, and you will say, ‘With this plait I intend to bind up your mouth so that you cannot eat any more, and with this peg I am going to keep you still in one spot, so that you cannot scatter your corn and water all over the place!’ After these words the maiden went away as softly as she had come.Early the next morning he set to work. His scythe danced through the grass much more easily than he had hoped, and soon he had enough to fill the manger. He put it in the crib, and returned with a second supply, when to his horror he found the crib empty.Then he knew that without the maiden’s advice he would certainly have been lost, and began to put it into practice. He took out the rushes which had somehow got mixed up with the hay, and plaited them quickly.‘My son, what are you doing?’ asked the horse wonderingly.‘Oh, nothing!’ replied he. ‘Just weaving a chin strap to bind your jaws together, in case you might wish to eat any more!’The white horse sighed deeply when it heard this, and made up its mind to be content with what it had eaten.The youth next began to clean out the stall, and the horse knew it had found a master; and by mid-day there was still fodder in the manger, and the place was as clean as a new pin. He had barely finished when in walked the old man, who stood astonished at the door.‘Is it really you who have been clever enough to do that?’ he asked. ‘Or has some one else given you a hint?’‘Oh, I have had no help,’ replied the prince, ‘except what my poor weak head could give me.’The old man frowned, and went away, and the prince rejoiced that everything had turned out so well.In the evening his master said, ‘To-morrow I have no special task to set you, but as the girl has a great deal to do in the house you must milk the black cow for her. But take care you milk her dry, or it may be the worse for you.’‘Well,’ thought the prince as he went away, ‘unless there is some trick behind, this does not sound very hard. I have never milked a cow before, but I have good strong fingers.’He was very sleepy, and was just going toward his room, when the maiden came to him and asked: ‘What is your task to-morrow?’‘I am to help you,’ he answered, ‘and have nothing to do all day, except to milk the black cow dry.’‘Oh, you are unlucky,’ cried she. ‘If you were to try from morning till night you couldn’t do it. There is only one way of escaping the danger, and that is, when you go to milk her, take with you a pan of burning coals and a pair of tongs. Place the pan on the floor of the stall, and the tongs on the fire, and blow with all your might, till the coals burn brightly. The black cow will ask you what is the meaning of all this, and you must answer what I will whisper to you.’ And she stood on tip-toe and whispered something in his ear, and then went away.The dawn had scarcely reddened the sky when the prince jumped out of bed, and, with the pan of coals in one hand and the milk pail in the other, went straight to the cow’s stall, and began to do exactly as the maiden had told him the evening before.The black cow watched him with surprise for some time, and then said: ‘What are you doing, sonny?’‘Oh, nothing,’ answered he; ‘I am only heating a pair of tongs in case you may not feel inclined to give as much milk as I want.’The cow sighed deeply, and looked at the milkman with fear, but he took no notice, and milked briskly into the pail, till the cow ran dry.Just at that moment the old man entered the stable, and sat down to milk the cow himself, but not a drop of milk could he get. ‘Have you really managed it all yourself, or did somebody help you?’‘I have nobody to help me,’ answered the prince, ‘but my own poor head.’ The old man got up from his seat and went away.That night, when the prince went to his master to hear what his next day’s work was to be, the old man said: ‘I have a little hay-stack out in the meadow which must be brought in to dry. To-morrow you will have to stack it all in the shed, and, as you value your life, be careful not to leave the smallest strand behind.’ The prince was overjoyed to hear he had nothing worse to do.‘To carry a little hay-rick requires no great skill,’ thought he, ‘and it will give me no trouble, for the horse will have to draw it in. I am certainly not going to spare the old grandmother.’By-and-by the maiden stole up to ask what task he had for the next day.The young man laughed, and said: ‘It appears that I have got to learn all kinds of farmer’s work. To-morrow I have to carry a hay-rick, and leave not a stalk in the meadow, and that is my whole day’s work!’‘Oh, you unlucky creature!’ cried she; ‘and how do you think you are to do it. If you had all the men in the world to help you, you could not clear off this one little hay-rick in a week. The instant you have thrown down the hay at the top, it will take root again from below. But listen to what I say. You must steal out at daybreak to-morrow and bring out the white horse and some good strong ropes. Then get on the hay-stack, put the ropes round it, and harness the horse to the ropes. When you are ready, climb up the hay-stack and begin to count one, two, three.The horse will ask you what you are counting, and you must be sure to answer what I whisper to you.’So the maiden whispered something in his ear, and left the room. And the prince knew nothing better to do than to get into bed.He slept soundly, and it was still almost dark when he got up and proceeded to carry out the instructions given him by the girl. First he chose some stout ropes, and then he led the horse out of the stable and rode it to the hay-stack, which was made up of fifty cartloads, so that it could hardly be called ‘a little one.’ The prince did all that the maiden had told him, and when at last he was seated on top of the rick, and had counted up to twenty, he heard the horse ask in amazement: ‘What are you counting up there, my son?’‘Oh, nothing,’ said he, ‘I was just amusing myself with counting the packs of wolves in the forest, but there are really so many of them that I don’t think I should ever be done.’The word ‘wolf’ was hardly out of his mouth than the white horse was off like the wind, so that in the twinkling of an eye it had reached the shed, dragging the hay-stack behind it. The master was dumb with surprise as he came in after breakfast and found his man’s day’s work quite done.‘Was it really you who were so clever?’ asked he. ‘Or did some one give you good advice?’‘Oh, I have only myself to take counsel with,’ said the prince, and the old man went away, shaking his head.Late in the evening the prince went to his master to learn what he was to do next day.‘To-morrow,’ said the old man, ‘you must bring the white-headed calf to the meadow, and, as you value your life, take care it does not escape from you.’The prince answered nothing, but thought, ‘Well, most peasants of nineteen have got a whole herd to look after, so surely I can manage one.’ And he went towards his room, where the maiden met him.‘To morrow I have got an idiot’s work,’ said he; ‘nothing but to take the white-headed calf to the meadow.’‘Oh, you unlucky being!’ sighed she. ‘Do you know that this calf is so swift that in a single day he can run three times round the world? Take heed to what I tell you. Bind one end of this silk thread to the left fore-leg of the calf, and the other end to the little toe of your left foot, so that the calf will never be able to leave your side, whether you walk, stand, or lie.’ After this the prince went to bed and slept soundly.The next morning he did exactly what the maiden had told him, and led the calf with the silken thread to the meadow, where it stuck to his side like a faithful dog.By sunset, it was back again in its stall, and then came the master and said, with a frown, ‘Were you really so clever yourself, or did somebody tell you what to do?’‘Oh, I have only my own poor head,’ answered the prince, and the old man went away growling, ‘I don’t believe a word of it! I am sure you have found some clever friend!’In the evening he called the prince and said: ‘To- morrow I have no work for you, but when I wake you must come before my bed, and give me your hand in greeting.’The young man wondered at this strange freak, and went laughing in search of the maiden.‘Ah, it is no laughing matter,’ sighed she. ‘He means to eat you, and there is only one way in which I can help you. You must heat an iron shovel red hot, and hold it out to him instead of your hand.’So next morning he wakened very early, and had heated the shovel before the old man was awake. At length he heard him calling, ‘You lazy fellow, where are you? Come and wish me good morning.’But when the prince entered with the red-hot shovel his master only said, ‘I am very ill to-day, and too weak even to touch your hand. You must return this evening, when I may be better.’The prince loitered about all day, and in the evening went back to the old man’s room. He was received in the most; friendly manner, and, to his surprise, his master exclaimed, ‘I am very well satisfied with you. Come to me at dawn and bring the maiden with you. I know you have long loved each other, and I wish to make you man and wife.’The young man nearly jumped into the air for joy, but, remembering the rules of the house, he managed to keep still. When he told the maiden, he saw to his astonishment that she had become as white as a sheet, and she was quite dumb.‘The old man has found out who was your counsellor,’ she said when she could speak, ‘and he means to destroy us both.’ We must escape somehow, or else we shall be lost. Take an axe, and cut off the head of the calf with one blow. With a second, split its head in two, and in its brain you will see a bright red ball. Bring that to me. Meanwhile, I will do what is needful here.And the prince thought to himself, ‘Better kill the calf than be killed ourselves. If we can once escape, we will go back home. The peas which I strewed about must have sprouted, so that we shall not miss the way.’Then he went into the stall, and with one blow of the axe killed the calf, and with the second split its brain. In an instant the place was filled with light, as the red ball fell from the brain of the calf. The prince picked it up, and, wrapping it round with a thick cloth, hid it in his bosom. Mercifully, the cow slept through it all, or by her cries she would have awakened the master.He looked round, and at the door stood the maiden, holding a little bundle in her arms.‘Where is the ball?’ she asked.‘Here,’ answered he.‘We must lose no time in escaping,’ she went on, and uncovered a tiny bit of the shining ball, to light them on their way.As the prince had expected the peas had taken root, and grown into a little hedge, so that they were sure they would not lose the path. As they fled, the girl told him that she had overheard a conversation between the old man and his grandmother, saying that she was a king’s daughter, whom the old fellow had obtained by cunning from her parents. The prince, who knew all about the affair, was silent, though he was glad from his heart that it had fallen to his lot to set her free. So they went on till the day began to dawn.The old man slept very late that morning, and rubbed his eyes till he was properly awake. Then he remembered that very soon the couple were to present themselves before him. After waiting and waiting till quite a long time had passed, he said to himself, with a grin, ‘Well, they are not in much hurry to be married,’ and waited again.At last he grew a little uneasy, and cried loudly, ‘Man and maid! what has become of you?’After repeating this many times, he became quite frightened, but, call as he would, neither man nor maid appeared. At last he jumped angrily out of bed to go in search of the culprits, but only found an empty house, and beds that had never been slept in.Then he went straight to the stable, where the sight of the dead calf told him all. Swearing loudly, he opened the door of the third stall quickly, and cried to his goblin servants to go and chase the fugitives. ‘Bring them to me, however you may find them, for have them I must!’ he said. So spake the old man, and the servants fled like the wind.The runaways were crossing a great plain, when the maiden stopped. ‘Something has happened!’ she said. ‘The ball moves in my hand, and I’m sure we are being followed!’ and behind them they saw a black cloud flying before the wind. Then the maiden turned the ball thrice in her hand, and cried,‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball. Be quick and change me into a brook, And my lover into a little fish.’And in an instant there was a brook with a fish swimming in it. The goblins arrived just after, but, seeing nobody, waited for a little, then hurried home, leaving the brook and the fish undisturbed. When they were quite out of sight, the brook and the fish returned to their usual shapes and proceeded on their journey.When the goblins, tired and with empty hands, returned, their master inquired what they had seen, and if nothing strange had befallen them.‘Nothing,’ said they; ‘the plain was quite empty, save for a brook and a fish swimming in it.’‘Idiots!’ roared the master; ‘of course it was they!’ And dashing open the door of the fifth stall, he told the goblins inside that they must go and drink up the brook, and catch the fish. And the goblins jumped up, and flew like the wind.The young pair had almost reached the edge of the wood, when the maiden stopped again. ‘Something has happened,’ said she. ‘The ball is moving in my hand,’ and looking round she beheld a cloud flying towards them, large and blacker than the first, and striped with red. ‘Those are our pursuers,’ cried she, and turning the ball three times in her hand she spoke to it thus:‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball. Be quick and change us both. Me into a wild rose bush, And him into a rose on my stem.’And in the twinkling of an eye it was done. Only just in time too, for the goblins were close at hand, and looked round eagerly for the stream and the fish. But neither stream nor fish was to be seen; nothing but a rose bush. So they went sorrowing home, and when they were out of sight the rose bush and rose returned to their proper shapes and walked all the faster for the little rest they had had.‘Well, did you find them?’ asked the old man when his goblins came back.‘No,’ replied the leader of the goblins, ‘we found neither brook nor fish in the desert.’‘And did you find nothing else at all?’‘Oh, nothing but a rose tree on the edge of a wood, with a rose hanging on it.’‘Idiots!’ cried he. ‘Why, that was they.’ And he threw open the door of the seventh stall, where his mightiest goblins were locked in. ‘Bring them to me, however you find them, dead or alive!’ thundered he, ‘for I will have them! Tear up the rose tree and the roots too, and don’t leave anything behind, however strange it may be!’The fugitives were resting in the shade of a wood, and were refreshing themselves with food and drink. Suddenly the maiden looked up. ‘Something has happened,’ said she. ‘The ball has nearly jumped out of my bosom! Some one is certainly following us, and the danger is near, but the trees hide our enemies from us.’As she spoke she took the ball in her hand, and said:‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball. Be quick and change me into a breeze, And make my lover into a midge.’An instant, and the girl was dissolved into thin air, while the prince darted about like a midge. The next moment a crowd of goblins rushed up, and looked about in search of something strange, for neither a rose bush nor anything else was to be seen. But they had hardly turned their backs to go home empty-handed when the prince and the maiden stood on the earth again.‘We must make all the haste we can,’ said she, ‘before the old man himself comes to seek us, for he will know us under any disguise.’They ran on till they reached such a dark part of the forest that, if it had not been for the light shed by the ball, they could not have made their way at all. Worn out and breathless, they came at length to a large stone, and here the ball began to move restlessly. The maiden, seeing this, exclaimed:‘Listen to me, my ball, my ball. Roll the stone quickly to one side, That we may find a door.’And in a moment the stone had rolled away, and they had passed through the door to the world again.‘Now we are safe,’ cried she. ‘Here the old wizard has no more power over us, and we can guard ourselves from his spells. But, my friend, we have to part! You will return to your parents, and I must go in search of mine.’‘No! no!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘I will never part from you. You must come with me and be my wife. We have gone through many troubles together, and now we will share our joys. The maiden resisted his words for some time, but at last she went with him.In the forest they met a woodcutter, who told them that in the palace, as well as in all the land, there had been great sorrow over the loss of the prince, and many years had now passed away during which they had found no traces of him. So, by the help of the magic ball, the maiden managed that he should put on the same clothes that he had been wearing at the time he had vanished, so that his father might know him more quickly. She herself stayed behind in a peasant’s hut, so that father and son might meet alone.But the father was no longer there, for the loss of his son had killed him; and on his deathbed he confessed to his people how he had contrived that the old wizard should carry away a peasant’s child instead of the prince, wherefore this punishment had fallen upon him.The prince wept bitterly when he heard this news, for he had loved his father well, and for three days he ate and drank nothing. But on the fourth day he stood in the presence of his people as their new king, and, calling his councillors, he told them all the strange things that had befallen him, and how the maiden had borne him safe through all.And the councillors cried with one voice, ‘Let her be your wife, and our liege lady.’And that is the end of the story.
Ages ago, when the giants were numerous on the earth, there lived a big fellow named Antigonus. That was not what his mother had called him, but some one told him of a Greek general of that name; so he took this for his own. He was rough and cruel. His castle was on the Scheldt River, where the city of Antwerp now stands. Many ships sailed out of France and Holland, down this stream. They were loaded with timber, flax, iron, cheese, fish, bread, linen, and other things made in the country. It was by this trade that many merchants grew rich, and their children had plenty of toys to play with. The river was very grand, deep, and wide. The captains of the ships liked to sail on it, because there was no danger from rocks, and the country through which it flowed was so pretty.So every day, one could see hundreds of white-sailed craft moving towards the sea, or coming in from the ocean. Boys and girls came down to stand in their wooden shoes on the banks, to see the vessels moving to and fro. The incoming ships brought sugar, wine, oranges, lemons, olives and other good things to eat, and wool to make warm clothes. Often craftsmen came from the wonderful countries in the south to tell of the rich cities there, and help to build new and fine houses, and splendid churches, and town halls. So all the Belgian people were happy.But one day, this wicked giant came into the country to stop the ships and make them pay him money. He reared a strong castle on the river banks. It had four sides and high walls, and deep down in the earth were dark, damp dungeons. One had to light a candle to find his way to the horrid places.What was it all for? The people wondered, but they soon found out. The giant, with a big knotted club, made out of an oak tree, strode through the town. He cried out to all the people to assemble in the great open square.“From this day forth,” he roared, “no ship, whether up or down the river, shall pass by this place, without my permission. Every captain must pay me toll, in money or goods. Whoever refuses, shall have both his hands cut off and thrown into the river.“Hear ye all and obey. Any one caught in helping a ship go by without paying toll, whether it be night, or whether it be day, shall have his thumbs cut off and be put in the dark dungeon for a month. Again I say, Obey!”With this, the giant swung and twirled his club aloft and then brought it down on a poor countryman’s cart, smashing it into flinders. This was done to show his strength.So every day, when the ships hove in sight, they were hailed from the giant’s castle and made to pay heavy toll. Poor or rich, they had to hand over their money. If any captain refused, he was brought ashore and made to kneel before a block and place one hand upon the other. Then the giant swung his axe and cut off both hands, and flung them into the river. If a ship master hesitated, because he had no money, he was cast into a dungeon, until his friends paid his ransom.Soon, on account of this, the city got a bad name. The captains from France kept in, and the ship men from Spain kept out. The merchants found their trade dwindling, and they grew poorer every day. So some of them slipped out of the city and tried to get the ships to sail in the night, and silently pass the giant’s castle.But the giant’s watchers, on the towers, were as wide awake as owls and greedy as hawks. They pounced on the ship captains, chopped off their hands and tossed them into the river. The townspeople, who were found on board, were thrown into the dungeons and had their thumbs cut off.So the prosperity of the city was destroyed, for the foreign merchants were afraid to send their ships into the giant’s country. The reputation of the city grew worse. It was nicknamed by the Germans Hand Werpen, or Hand Throwing; while the Dutchmen called it Antwerp, which meant the same thing. The Duke of Brabant, or Lord of the land, came to the big fellow’s fortress and told him to stop. He even shook his fist under the giant’s huge nose, and threatened to attack his castle and burn it. But Antigonus only snapped his fingers, and laughed at him. He made his castle still stronger and kept on hailing ships, throwing some of the crews into dungeons and cutting off the hands of the captains, until the fish in the river grew fat.Now there was a brave young fellow named Brabo, who lived in the province of Brabant. He was proud of his country and her flag of yellow, black and red, and was loyal to his lord. He studied the castle well and saw a window, where he could climb up into the giant’s chamber.Going to the Duke, Brabo promised if his lord’s soldiers would storm the gates of the giant’s castle, that he would seek out and fight the ruffian. While they battered down the gates, he would climb the walls. “He’s nothing but a ‘bulle-wak'” (a bully and a boaster), said Brabo, “and we ought to call him that, instead of Antigonus.”The Duke agreed. On a dark night, one thousand of his best men-at-arms were marched with their banners, but with no drums or trumpets, or anything that could make a noise and alarm the watchmen.Reaching a wood full of big trees near the castle, they waited till after midnight. All the dogs in the town and country, for five miles around, were seized and put into barns, so as not to bark and wake the giant up. They were given plenty to eat, so that they quickly fell asleep and were perfectly quiet.At the given signal, hundreds of men holding ship’s masts, or tree trunks, marched against the gates. They punched and pounded and at last smashed the iron-bound timbers and rushed in. After overcoming the garrison, they lighted candles, and unlocking the dungeons, went down and set the poor half-starved captives free. Some of them pale, haggard and thin as hop poles, could hardly stand. About the same time, the barn doors where the dogs had been kept, were thrown open. In full cry, a regiment of the animals, from puppies to hounds, were at once out, barking, baying, and yelping, as if they knew what was going on and wanted to see the fun.But where was the giant? None of the captains could find him. Not one of the prisoners or the garrison could tell where he had hid.But Brabo knew that the big fellow, Antigonus, was not at all brave, but really only a bully and a coward. So the lad was not afraid. Some of his comrades outside helped him to set up a tall ladder against the wall. Then, while all the watchers and men-at-arms inside, had gone away to defend the gates, Brabo climbed into the castle, through a slit in the thick wall. This had been cut out, like a window, for the bow-and-arrow men, and was usually occupied by a sentinel. Sword in hand, Brabo made for the giant’s own room. Glaring at the youth, the big fellow seized his club and brought it down with such force that it went through the wooden floor. But Brabo dodged the blow and, in a trice, made a sweep with his sword. Cutting off the giant’s head, he threw it out the window. It had hardly touched the ground, before the dogs arrived. One of the largest of these ran away with the trophy and the big, hairy noddle of the bully was never found again.But the giant’s huge hands! Ah, they were cut off by Brabo, who stood on the very top of the highest tower, while all below looked up and cheered. Brabo laid one big hand on top of the other, as the giant used to do, when he cut off the hands of captains. He took first the right hand and then the left hand and threw them, one at a time, into the river.A pretty sight now revealed the fact that the people knew what had been going on and were proud of Brabo’s valor. In a moment, every house in Antwerp showed lighted candles, and the city was illuminated. Issuing from the gates came a company of maidens. They were dressed in white, but their leader was robed in yellow, red, and black, the colors of the Brabant flag. They all sang in chorus the praises of Brabo their hero.“Let us now drop the term of disgrace to the city—that of theHand-Throwing and give it a new name,” said one of the leading men ofAntwerp.“No,” said the chief ruler, “let us rather keep the name, and, more than ever, invite all peaceful ships to come again, ‘an-‘t-werf’ (at the wharf), as of old. Then, let the arms of Antwerp be two red hands above a castle.”“Agreed,” cried the citizens with a great shout. The Duke of Brabant approved and gave new privileges to the city, on account of Brabo’s bravery. So, from high to low, all rejoiced to honor their hero, who was richly rewarded.After this, thousands of ships, from many countries, loaded or unloaded their cargoes on the wharves, or sailed peacefully by. Antwerp excelled all seaports and became very rich again. Her people loved their native city so dearly, that they coined the proverb “All the world is a ring, and Antwerp is the pearl set in it.”To this day, in the great square, rises the splendid bronze monument of Brabo the Brave. The headless and handless hulk of the giant Antigonus lies sprawling, while on his body rests Antwerp castle. Standing over all, at the top, is Brabo high in air. He holds one of the hands of Antigonus, which he is about to toss into the Scheldt River.No people honor valor more than the Belgians. Themselves are to-day, as of old, among the bravest.
There was once an old king who was so wise that he was able to understand the speech of all the animals in the world. This is how it happened. An old woman came to him one day bringing him a snake in a basket.“If you have this snake cooked,” she told him, “and eat it as you would a fish, then you will be able to understand the birds of the air, the beasts of the earth, and the fishes of the sea.”The king was delighted. He made the old wise woman a handsome present and at once ordered his cook, a youth named Yirik, to prepare the “fish” for dinner.“But understand, Yirik,” he said severely, “you’re to cook this ‘fish,’ not eat it! You’re not to taste one morsel of it! If you do, you forfeit your head!”Yirik thought this a strange order.“What kind of a cook am I,” he said to himself, “that I’m not to sample my own cooking?”When he opened the basket and saw the “fish,” he was further mystified.“Um,” he murmured, “it looks like a snake to me.”He put it on the fire and, when it was broiled to a turn, he ate a morsel. It had a fine flavor. He was about to take a second bite when suddenly he heard a little voice that buzzed in his ear these words:“Give us some, too! Give us some, too!”He looked around to see who was speaking but there was no one in the kitchen. Only some flies were buzzing about.Just then outside a hissing voice called out:“Where shall we go? Where shall we go?”A higher voice answered:“To the miller’s barley field! To the miller’s barley field!”Yirik looked out the window and saw a gander with a flock of geese.“Oho!” he said to himself, shaking his head. “Now I understand! Now I know what kind of ‘fish’ this is! Now I know why the poor cook was not to take a bite!”He slipped another morsel into his mouth, garnished the “fish” carefully on a platter, and carried it to the king.After dinner the king ordered his horse and told Yirik to come with him for a ride. The king rode on ahead and Yirik followed.As they cantered across a green meadow, Yirik’s horse began to prance and neigh.“Ho! Ho!” he said. “I feel so light that I could jump over a mountain!”“So could I,” the king’s horse said, “but I have to remember the old bag of bones that is perched on my back. If I were to jump he’d tumble off and break his neck.”“And a good thing, too!” said Yirik’s horse. “Why not? Then instead of such an old bag of bones you’d get a young man to ride you like Yirik.”Yirik almost burst out laughing as he listened to the horses’ talk, but he suppressed his merriment lest the king should know that he had eaten some of the magic snake.Now of course the king, too, understood what the horses were saying. He glanced apprehensively at Yirik and it seemed to him that Yirik was grinning.“What are you laughing at, Yirik?”“Me?” Yirik said. “I’m not laughing. I was just thinking of something funny.”“Um,” said the king.His suspicions against Yirik were aroused. Moreover he was afraid to trust himself to his horse any longer. So he turned back to the palace at once.There he ordered Yirik to pour him out a goblet of wine.“And I warn you,” he said, “that you forfeit your head if you pour a drop too much or too little.”Yirik carefully tilted a great tankard and began filling a goblet. As he poured a bird suddenly flew into the window pursued by another bird. The first bird had in its beak three golden hairs.“Give them to me! Give them to me! They’re mine!” screamed the second bird.“I won’t! I won’t! They’re mine!” the first bird answered. “I picked them up!”“Yes, but I saw them first!” the other cried. “I saw them fall as the maiden sat and combed her golden tresses. Give me two of them and I’ll let you keep the third.”“No! No! No! I won’t let you have one of them!”The second bird darted angrily at the first and after a struggle succeeded in capturing one of the golden hairs. One hair dropped to the marble floor, making as it struck a musical tinkle, and the first bird escaped still holding in its bill a single hair.In his excitement over the struggle, Yirik overflowed the goblet.“Ha! Ha!” said the king. “See what you’ve done! You forfeit your head! However, I’ll suspend sentence on condition that you find this golden-haired maiden and bring her to me for a wife.”Poor Yirik didn’t know who the maiden was nor where she lived. But what could he say? If he wanted to keep his head, he must undertake the quest. So he saddled his horse and started off at random.His road led him through a forest. Here he came upon a bush under which some shepherds had kindled a fire. Sparks were falling on an anthill nearby and the ants in great excitement were running hither and thither with their eggs.“Yirik!” they cried. “Help! Help, or we shall all be burned to death, we and our young ones in the eggs!”Yirik instantly dismounted, cut down the burning bush, and put out the fire.“Thank you, Yirik, thank you!” the ants said. “Your kindness to us this day will not go unrewarded. If ever you are in trouble, think of us and we will help you.”As Yirik rode on through the forest, he came upon two fledgling ravens lying by the path.“Help us, Yirik, help us!” they cawed. “Our father and mother have thrown us out of the nest in yonder tall fir tree to fend for ourselves. We are young and helpless and not yet able to fly. Give us some meat to eat or we shall perish with hunger.”The sight of the helpless fledglings touched Yirik to pity. He dismounted instantly, drew his sword, and killed his horse. Then he fed the starving birds the meat they needed.“Thank you, Yirik, thank you!” the little ravens croaked. “You have saved our lives this day. Your kindness will not go unrewarded. If ever you are in trouble, think of us and we will help you.”Yirik left the young ravens and pushed on afoot. The path through the forest was long and wearisome. It led out finally on the seashore.On the beach two fishermen were quarreling over a big fish with golden scales that lay gasping on the sand.“It’s mine, I tell you!” one of the men was shouting.”It was caught in my net, so of course it’s mine!”To this the other one shouted back:“But your net would never have caught a fish if you hadn’t been out in my boat and if I hadn’t helped you!”“Give me this one,” the first man said, “and I’ll let you have the next one.”“No! You take the next one!” the other said. “This one’s mine!”So they kept on arguing to no purpose until Yirik went up to them and said:“Let me decide this for you. Suppose you sell me the fish and then divide the money.”He offered them all the money the king had given him for his journey. The fishermen, delighted at the offer, at once agreed. Yirik handed them over the money and then, taking the gasping fish in his hand, he threw it back into the sea.When the fish had caught its breath, it rose on a wave and called out to Yirik:“Thank you, Yirik, thank you. You have saved my life this day. Your kindness will not go unrewarded. If ever you are in trouble, think of me and I will help you.”With that the golden fish flicked its tail and disappeared in the water.“Where are you going, Yirik?” the fishermen asked.“I’m going in quest of a golden-haired maiden whom my master, the king, wished to make his wife.”“He must mean the Princess Zlatovlaska,” the fishermen said to each other.“The Princess Zlatovlaska?” Yirik repeated. “Who is she?”“She’s the golden-haired daughter of the King of the Crystal Palace. Do you see the faint outlines of an island over yonder? That’s where she lives. The king has twelve daughters but Zlatovlaska alone has golden hair. Each morning at dawn a wonderful glow spreads over land and sea. That’s Zlatovlaska combing her golden hair.”The fishermen conferred apart for a moment and then said:“Yirik, you settled our dispute for us and now in return we’ll row you over to the island.”So they rowed Yirik over to the Island of the Crystal Palace and left him there with the warning that the king would probably try to palm off on him one of the dark-haired princesses.Yirik at once presented himself at the palace, got an audience with the king, and declared his mission.“H’m,” the king said. “So your master desires the hand of my daughter, the Princess Zlatovlaska, eh? H’m, h’m. Well, I see no objection to your master as a son-in-law, but of course before I entrust the princess into your hands you must prove yourself worthy. I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give you three tasks to perform. Be ready for the first one tomorrow.”Early the next day the king said to Yirik:“My daughter, Zlatovlaska, had a precious necklace of pearls. She was walking in the meadow over yonder when the string broke and the pearls rolled away in the tall grasses. Now your first task is to gather up every last one of those pearls and hand them to me before sundown.”Yirik went to the meadow and when he saw how broad it was and how thickly covered with tall grasses his heart sank for he realized that he could never search over the whole of it in one day. However, he got down on his hands and knees and began to hunt.Midday came and he had not yet found a single pearl.“Oh dear,” he thought to himself in despair, “if only my ants were here, they could help me!”He had no sooner spoken than a million little voices answered:“We are here and we’re here to help you!”And sure enough there they were, the very ants that he supposed were far away!“What do you want us to do?” they asked.“Find me all the pearls that are scattered in this meadow. I can’t find one of them.”Instantly the ants scurried hither and thither and soon they began bringing him the pearls one by one. Yirik strung them together until the necklace seemed complete.“Are there any more?” he asked.He was about to tie the string together when a lame ant, whose foot had been burned in the fire, hobbled up, crying:“Wait, Yirik, don’t tie the string yet! Here’s the last pearl!”Yirik thanked the ants for their help and at sundown carried the string of pearls to the king. The king counted the pearls and, to his surprise, found that not one was missing.“You’ve done this well,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll give you your second task.”The next day when Yirik presented himself, the king said:“While my daughter, Zlatovlaska, was bathing in the sea, a golden ring slipped from her finger and disappeared. Your task is to find me this ring before sundown.”Yirik went down to the seashore and as he walked along the beach his heart grew heavy as he realized the difficulty of the task before him. The sea was clear but so deep that he couldn’t even see the bottom. How then could he find the ring?“Oh dear,” he said aloud, “if only the golden fish were here! It could help me.”“I am here,” a voice said, “and I’m here to help you.”And there was the golden fish on the crest of a wave, gleaming like a flash of fire!“What do you want me to do?” it said.“Find me a golden ring that lies somewhere on the bottom of the sea.”“Ah, a golden ring? A moment ago I met a pike,” the fish said, “that had just such a golden ring. Wait for me here and I’ll go find the pike.”In a few moments the golden fish returned with the pike and sure enough it was Zlatovlaska’s ring that the pike was carrying.That evening at sundown the king acknowledged that Yirik had accomplished his second task.The next day the king said:“I could never allow my daughter, Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, to go to the kingdom of your master unless she carried with her two flasks, one filled with the Water of Life, the other with the Water of Death. So today for a third task I set you this: to bring the princess a flask of the Water of Life and a flask of the Water of Death.”Yirik had no idea which way to turn. He had heard of the Waters of Life and Death, but all he knew about them was that their springs were far away beyond the Red Sea. He left the Crystal Palace and walked off aimlessly until his feet had carried him of themselves into a dark forest.“If only those young ravens were here,” he said aloud, “they could help me!”Instantly he heard a loud, “Caw! Caw!” and two ravens flew down to him, saying:“We are here! We are here to help you! What do you want us to do?”“I have to bring the king a flask of the Water of Life and a flask of the Water of Death and I don’t know where the springs are. Do you know?”“Yes, we know,” the ravens said. “Wait here and we’ll soon fetch you water from both springs.”They flew off and in a short time returned, each bearing a gourd of the precious water.Yirik thanked the ravens and carefully filled his two flasks.As he was leaving the forest, he came upon a great spider web. An ugly spider sat in the middle of it sucking a fly. Yirik took a drop of the Water of Death and flicked it on the spider. The spider doubled up dead and fell to the ground like a ripe cherry.Then Yirik sprinkled a drop of Living Water on the fly. The fly instantly revived, pulled itself out of the web, and flew about happy and free once again.“Thank you, Yirik,” it buzzed, “thank you for bringing me back to life. You won’t be sorry. Just wait and you’ll soon see that I’ll reward you!”When Yirik returned to the palace and presented the two flasks, the king said:“But one thing yet remains. You may take Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, but you must yourself pick her out from among the twelve sisters.”The king led Yirik into a great hall. The twelve princesses were seated about a table, beautiful maidens all and each looking much like the others. Yirik could not tell which was Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, for each princess wore a long heavy white veil so draped over her head and shoulders that it completely covered her hair.“Here are my twelve daughters,” the king said. “One of them is Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired. Pick her out and you may lead her at once to your master. If you fail to pick her out, then you must depart without her.”In dismay Yirik looked from sister to sister. There was nothing to show him which was Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired. How was he to find out?Suddenly he heard a buzzing in his ear and a little voice whispered:“Courage, Yirik, courage! I’ll help you!”He turned his head quickly and there was the fly he had rescued from the spider.“Walk slowly by each princess,” the fly said, “and I’ll tell you when you come to Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired.”Yirik did as the fly ordered. He stopped a moment before the first princess until the fly buzzed:“Not that one! Not that one!”He went on to the next princess and again the fly buzzed:“Not that one! Not that one!”So he went on from princess to princess until at last the fly buzzed out:“Yes, that one! That one!”So Yirik remained standing where he was and said to the king:“This, I think, is Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired.”“You have guessed right,” the king said.At that Zlatovlaska removed the white veil from her head and her lovely hair tumbled down to her feet like a golden cascade. It shimmered and glowed like the sun in the early morning when he peeps over the mountain top. Yirik stared until the brightness dimmed his sight.The king immediately prepared Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, for her journey. He gave her the two precious flasks of water; he arranged a fitting escort; and then with his blessing he sent her forth under Yirik’s care.Yirik conducted her safely to his master.When the old king saw the lovely princess that Yirik had found for him, his eyes blinked with satisfaction, he capered about like a spring lamb, and he ordered that immediate preparations be made for the wedding. He was most grateful to Yirik and thanked him again and again.“My dear boy,” he said, “I had expected to have you hanged for your disobedience and let the ravens pick your bones. But now, to show you how grateful I am for the beautiful bride you have found me, I’m not going to have you hanged at all. Instead, I shall have you beheaded and then given a decent burial.”The execution took place at once in order to be out of the way before the wedding.“It’s a great pity he had to die,” the king said as the executioner cut off Yirik’s head. “He has certainly been a faithful servant.”Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, asked if she might have his severed head and body. The king who was too madly in love to refuse her anything said: “Yes.”So Zlatovlaska took the body and the head and put them together. Then she sprinkled them with the Water of Death. Instantly the wound closed and soon it healed so completely that there wasn’t even a scar left.Yirik lay there lifeless but looking merely as if he were asleep. Zlatovlaska sprinkled him with the Water of Life and immediately his dead limbs stirred. Then he opened his eyes and sat up. Life poured through his veins and he sprang to his feet younger, fresher, handsomer than before.The old king was filled with envy.“I, too,” he cried, “wish to be made young and handsome!”He commanded the executioner to cut off his head and he told Zlatovlaska to sprinkle him afterwards with the Water of Life.The executioner did as he was told. Then Zlatovlaska sprinkled the old king’s head and body with the Water of Life. Nothing happened. Zlatovlaska kept on sprinkling the Water of Life until there was no more left.“Do you know,” the princess said to Yirik, “I believe I should have used the Water of Death first.”So now she sprinkled the body and head with the Water of Death and, sure enough, they grew together at once. But of course there was no life in them. And of course there was no possible way of putting life into them because the Water of Life was all gone. So the old king remained dead.“This will never do,” the people said. “We must have a king. And with the wedding feast and everything prepared we simply must have a wedding, too. If Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, cannot marry the old king, she’ll have to marry some one else. Now who shall it be?”Some one suggested Yirik because he was young and handsome and because, like the old king, he could understand the birds and the beasts.“Yirik!” the people cried. “Let Yirik be our king!”And Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, who had long since fallen in love with handsome Yirik, consented to have the wedding at once in order that the feast already prepared might not be wasted.So Yirik and Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired, were married and they ruled so well and they lived so happily that to this day when people say of some one: “He’s as happy as a king,” they are thinking of King Yirik, and when they say of some one: “She’s as beautiful as a queen,” they are thinking of Zlatovlaska, the Golden-Haired.
The Mouse went to visit the Cat, and found her sitting behind the hall door, spinning.MOUSE. What are you doing, my lady, my lady, What are you doing, my lady?CAT (sharply). I’m spinning old breeches, good body, good bodyI’m spinning old breeches, good body.MOUSE. Long may you wear them, my lady, my lady, Long may you wear them, my lady.CAT (gruffly). I’ll wear’ em and tear ’em, good body, good body. I’ll wear ’em and tear ’em, good body.MOUSE. I was sweeping my room, my lady, my lady, I was sweeping my room, my lady.CAT. The cleaner you’d be, good body, good body, The cleaner you’d be, good body.MOUSE. I found a silver sixpence, my lady, my lady, I found a silver sixpence, my lady.CAT. The richer you were, good body, good body, The richer you were, good body.MOUSE. I went to the market, my lady, my lady, I went to the market, my lady.CAT. The further you went, good body, good body The further you went, good body.MOUSE. I bought me a pudding, my lady, my lady, I bought me a pudding, my lady.CAT (snarling). The more meat you had, good body, good body,The more meat you had, good body.MOUSE. I put it in the window to cool, my lady, I put it in the window to cool.CAT. (sharply). The faster you’d eat it, good body, good body,The faster you’d eat it, good body.MOUSE (timidly). The cat came and ate it, my lady, my lady, The cat came and ate it, my lady.CAT (pouncingly). And I’ll eat you, good body, good body, AndI’ll eat you, good body.(Springs upon the mouse and kills it.)
I have always heard say, that he who gives pleasure finds it: the bell of Manfredonia says, “Give me, I give thee”: he who does not bait the hook of the affections with courtesy never catches the fish of kindness; and if you wish to hear the proof of this, listen to my story, and then say whether the covetous man does not always lose more than the liberal one.There were once two sisters, named Luceta and Troccola, who had two daughters, Marziella and Puccia. Marziella was as fair to look upon as she was good at heart; whilst, on the contrary, Puccia by the same rule had a face of ugliness and a heart of pestilence, but the girl resembled her parent, for Troccola was a harpy within and a very scare-crow without.Now it happened that Luceta had occasion to boil some parsnips, in order to fry them with green sauce; so she said to her daughter, “Marziella, my dear, go to the well and fetch me a pitcher of water.”“With all my heart, mother,” replied the girl, “but if you love me give me a cake, for I should like to eat it with a draught of the fresh water.”“By all means,” said the mother; so she took from a basket that hung upon a hook a beautiful cake (for she had baked a batch the day before), and gave it to Marziella, who set the pitcher on a pad upon her head, and went to the fountain, which like a charlatan upon a marble bench, to the music of the falling water, was selling secrets to drive away thirst. And as she was stooping down to fill her pitcher, up came a hump-backed old woman, and seeing the beautiful cake, which Marziella was just going to bite, she said to her, “My pretty girl, give me a little piece of your cake, and may Heaven send you good fortune!”Marziella, who was as generous as a queen, replied, “Take it all, my good woman, and I am only sorry that it is not made of sugar and almonds, for I would equally give it you with all my heart.”The old woman, seeing Marziella’s kindness, said to her, “Go, and may Heaven reward you for the goodness you have shown me! and I pray all the stars that you may ever be content and happy; that when you breathe roses and jessamines may fall from your mouth; that when you comb your locks pearls and garnets may fall from them, and when you set your foot on the ground lilies and violets may spring up.”Marziella thanked the old woman, and went her way home, where her mother, having cooked a bit of supper, they paid the natural debt to the body, and thus ended the day. And the next morning, when the Sun displayed in the market-place of the celestial fields the merchandise of light which he had brought from the East, as Marziella was combing her hair, she saw a shower of pearls and garnets fall from it into her lap; whereupon calling her mother with great joy, they put them all into a basket, and Luceta went to sell a great part of them to a usurer, who was a friend of hers. Meanwhile Troccola came to see her sister, and finding Marziella in great delight and busied with the pearls, she asked her how, when, and where she had gotten them. But the maiden, who did not understand the ways of the world, and had perhaps never heard the proverb, “Do not all you are able, eat not all you wish, spend not all you have, and tell not all you know,” related the whole affair to her aunt, who no longer cared to await her sister’s return, for every hour seemed to her a thousand years until she got home again. Then giving a cake to her daughter, she sent her for water to the fountain, where Puccia found the same old woman. And when the old woman asked her for a little piece of cake she answered gruffly, “Have I nothing to do, forsooth, but to give you cake? Do you take me to be so foolish as to give you what belongs to me? Look ye, charity begins at home.” And so saying she swallowed the cake in four pieces, making the old woman’s mouth water, who when she saw the last morsel disappear and her hopes buried with the cake, exclaimed in a rage, “Begone! and whenever you breathe may you foam at the mouth like a doctor’s mule, may toads drop from your lips, and every time you set foot to the ground may there spring up ferns and thistles!”Puccia took the pitcher of water and returned home, where her mother was all impatience to hear what had befallen her at the fountain. But no sooner did Puccia open her lips, than a shower of toads fell from them, at the sight of which her mother added the fire of rage to the snow of envy, sending forth flame and smoke through nose and mouth.Now it happened some time afterwards that Ciommo, the brother of Marziella, was at the court of the King of Chiunzo; and the conversation turning on the beauty of various women, he stepped forward, unasked, and said that all the handsome women might hide their heads when his sister made her appearance, who beside the beauty of her form, which made harmony on the song of a noble soul, possessed also a wonderful virtue in her hair, mouth, and feet, which was given to her by a fairy. When the King heard these praises he told Ciommo to bring his sister to the court; adding that, if he found her such as he had represented, he would take her to wife.Now Ciommo thought this a chance not to be lost; so he forthwith sent a messenger post-haste to his mother, telling her what had happened, and begging her to come instantly with her daughter, in order not to let slip the good luck. But Luceta, who was very unwell, commending the lamb to the wolf, begged her sister to have the kindness to accompany Marziella to the court of Chiunzo for such and such a thing. Whereupon Troccola, who saw that matters were playing into her hand, promised her sister to take Marziella safe and sound to her brother, and then embarked with her niece and Puccia in a boat. But when they were some way out at sea, whilst the sailors were asleep, she threw Marziella into the water; and just as the poor girl was on the point of being drowned there came a most beautiful syren, who took her in her arms and carried her off.When Troccola arrived at Chiunzo, Ciommo, who had not seen his sister for so long a time, mistook Puccia, and received her as if she were Marziella, and led her instantly to the King. But no sooner did she open her lips than toads dropped on the ground; and when the King looked at her more closely he saw, that as she breathed hard from the fatigue of the journey, she made a lather at her mouth, which looked just like a washtub; then looking down on the ground, he saw a meadow of stinking plants, the sight of which made him quite ill. Upon this he drove Puccia and her mother away, and sent Ciommo in disgrace to keep the geese of the court.Then Ciommo, in despair and not knowing what had happened to him, drove the geese into the fields, and letting them go their way along the seashore, he used to retire into a little straw shed, where he bewailed his lot until evening, when it was time to return home. But whilst the geese were running about on the shore, Marziella would come out of the water, and feed them with sweetmeats, and give them rose-water to drink; so that the geese grew as big as sheep, and were so fat that they could not see out of their eyes. And in the evening when they came into a little garden under the King’s window, they began to sing—“Pire, pire pire!The sun and the moon are bright and clear,But she who feeds us is still more fair.”Now the King, hearing this goose-music every evening, ordered Ciommo to be called, and asked him where, and how, and upon what he fed his geese. And Ciommo replied, “I give them nothing to eat but the fresh grass of the field.” But the King, who was not satisfied with this answer, sent a trusty servant after Ciommo to watch and observe where he drove the geese. Then the man followed in his footsteps, and saw him go into the little straw shed, leaving the geese to themselves; and going their way they had no sooner come to the shore than Marziella rose up out of the sea; and I do not believe that even the mother of that blind boy who, as the poet says, “desires no other alms than tears,” ever rose from the waves so fair. When the servant of the King saw this, he ran back to his master, beside himself with amazement, and told him the pretty spectacle he had seen upon the seashore.The curiosity of the King was increased by what the man told him, and he had a great desire to go himself and see the beautiful sight. So the next morning, when the Cock, the ringleader of the birds, excited them all to arm mankind against the Night, and Ciommo went with the geese to the accustomed spot, the King followed him closely; and when the geese came to the seashore, without Ciommo, who remained as usual in the little shed, the King saw Marziella rise out of the water. And after giving the geese a trayful of sweetmeats to eat and a cupful of rose-water to drink, she seated herself on a rock and began to comb her locks, from which fell handfuls of pearls and garnets; at the same time a cloud of flowers dropped from her mouth, and under her feet was a Syrian carpet of lilies and violets.When the King saw this sight, he ordered Ciommo to be called, and, pointing to Marziella, asked him whether he knew that beautiful maiden. Then Ciommo, recognising his sister, ran to embrace her, and in the presence of the King heard from her all the treacherous conduct of Troccola, and how the envy of that wicked creature had brought that fair fire of love to dwell in the waters of the sea.The joy of the King is not to be told at the acquisition of so fair a jewel; and turning to the brother he said that he had good reason to praise Marziella so much, and indeed that he found her three times more beautiful than he had described her; he deemed her, therefore, more than worthy to be his wife if she would be content to receive the sceptre of his kingdom.“Alas, would to Heaven it could be so!” answered Marziella, “and that I could serve you as the slave of your crown! But see you not this golden chain upon my foot, by which the sorceress holds me prisoner? When I take too much fresh air, and tarry too long on the shore, she draws me into the waves, and thus keeps me held in rich slavery by a golden chain.”“What way is there,” said the King, “to free you from the claws of this syren?”“The way,” replied Marziella, “would be to cut this chain with a smooth file, and to loose me from it.”“Wait till to-morrow morning,” answered the King; “I will then come with all that is needful, and take you home with me, where you shall be the pupil of my eye, the core of my heart, and the life of my soul.” And then exchanging a shake of the hands as the earnest-money of their love, she went back into the water and he into the fire—and into such a fire indeed that he had not an hour’s rest the whole day long. And when the black old hag of the Night came forth to have a country-dance with the Stars, he never closed an eye, but lay ruminating in his memory over the beauties of Marziella, discoursing in thought of the marvels of her hair, the miracles of her mouth, and the wonders of her feet; and applying the gold of her graces to the touchstone of judgment, he found that it was four-and-twenty carats fine. But he upbraided the Night for not leaving off her embroidery of the Stars, and chided the Sun for not arriving with the chariot of light to enrich his house with the treasure he longed for—a mine of gold which produced pearls, a pearl-shell from which sprang flowers.But whilst he was thus at sea, thinking of her who was all the while in the sea, behold the pioneers of the Sun appeared, who smooth the road along which he has to pass with the army of his rays. Then the King dressed himself, and went with Ciommo to the seashore, where he found Marziella; and the King with his own hand cut the chain from the foot of the beloved object with the file which they had brought, but all the while he forged a still stronger one for his heart; and setting her on the saddle behind him, she who was already fixed on the saddle of his heart, he set out for the royal palace, where by his command all the handsome ladies of the land were assembled, who received Marziella as their mistress with all due honour. Then the King married her, and there were great festivities; and among all the casks which were burnt for the illuminations, the King ordered that Troccola should be shut up in a tub, and made to suffer for the treachery she had shown to Marziella. Then sending for Luceta, he gave her and Ciommo enough to live upon like princes; whilst Puccia, driven out of the kingdom, wandered about as a beggar; and, as the reward of her not having sown a little bit of cake, she had now to suffer a constant want of bread; for it is the will of Heaven that—“He who shows no pity finds none.”
Old Rodilard, a certain cat,Such havoc of the rats had made,‘Twas difficult to find a ratWith nature’s debt unpaid.The few that did remain,To leave their holes afraid,From usual food abstain,Not eating half their fill.And wonder no one willThat one who made of rats his revel,With rats pass’d not for cat, but devil.Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater,Who had a wife, went out to meet her;And while he held his caterwauling,The unkill’d rats, their chapter calling,Discuss’d the point, in grave debate,How they might shun impending fate.Their dean, a prudent rat,Thought best, and better soon than late,To bell the fatal cat;That, when he took his hunting round,The rats, well caution’d by the sound,Might hide in safety under ground;Indeed he knew no other means.And all the restAt once confess’dTheir minds were with the dean’s.No better plan, they all believed,Could possibly have been conceived.No doubt the thing would work right well,If any one would hang the bell.But, one by one, said every rat,“I’m not so big a fool as that.”The plan knock’d up in this respect,The council closed without effect.And many a council I have seen,Or reverend chapter with its dean,That, thus resolving wisely,Fell through like this precisely.To argue or refuteWise counselors abound;The man to executeIs harder to be found.
In his firelit parlor, in his little house at Valley Forge, old Michael Kuch sits talking with his daughter. But though it is Christmas eve the talk has little cheer in it. The hours drag on until the clock strikes twelve, and the old man is about to offer his evening prayer for the safety of his son, who is one of Washington’s troopers, when hurried steps are heard in the snow, there is a fumbling at the latch, then the door flies open and admits a haggard, panting man who hastily closes it again, falls into a seat, and shakes from head to foot. The girl goes to him. “John!” she says. But he only averts his face. “What is wrong with thee, John Blake?” asks the farmer. But he has to ask again and again ere he gets an answer. Then, in a broken voice, the trembling man confesses that he has tried to shoot Washington, but the bullet struck and killed his only attendant, a dragoon. He has come for shelter, for men are on his track already. “Thou know’st I am neutral in this war, John Blake,” answered the farmer,—”although I have a boy down yonder in the camp. It was a cowardly thing to do, and I hate you Tories that you do not fight like men; yet, since you ask me for a hiding-place, you shall have it, though, mind you, ’tis more on the girl’s account than yours. The men are coming. Out—this way—to the spring-house. So!”Before old Michael has time to return to his chair the door is again thrust open, this time by men in blue and buff. They demand the assassin, whose footsteps they have tracked there through the snow. Michael does not answer. They are about to use violence when, through the open door, comes Washington, who checks them with a word. The general bears a drooping form with a blood splash on its breast, and deposits it on the hearth as gently as a mother puts a babe into its cradle. As the firelight falls on the still face the farmer’s eyes grow round and big; then he shrieks and drops upon his knees, for it is his son who is lying there. Beside him is a pistol; it was dropped by the Tory when he entered. Grasping it eagerly the farmer leaps to his feet. His years have fallen from him. With a tiger-like bound he gains the door, rushes to the spring-house where John Blake is crouching, his eyes sunk and shining, gnawing his fingers in a craze of dismay. But though hate is swift, love is swifter, and the girl is there as soon as he. She strikes his arm aside, and the bullet he has fired lodges in the wood. He draws out his knife, and the murderer, to whom has now come the calmness of despair, kneels and offers his breast to the blade. Before he can strike, the soldiers hasten up, and seizing Blake, they drag him to the house—the little room—where all had been so peaceful but a few minutes before.The culprit is brought face to face with Washington, who asks him what harm he has ever suffered from his fellow countrymen that he should turn against them thus. Blake hangs his head and owns his willingness to die. His eyes rest on the form extended on the floor, and he shudders; but his features undergo an almost joyous change, for the figure lifts itself, and in a faint voice calls, “Father!” The young man lives. With a cry of delight both father and sister raise him in their arms. “You are not yet prepared to die,” says Washington to the captive. “I will put you under guard until you are wanted. Take him into custody, my dear young lady, and try to make an American of him. See, it is one o’clock, and this is Christmas morning. May all be happy here. Come.” And beckoning to his men he rides away, though Blake and his affianced would have gone on their knees before him. Revulsion of feeling, love, thankfulness and a latent patriotism wrought a quick change in Blake. When young Kuch recovered, Blake joined his regiment, and no soldier served the flag more honorably.
A girl once lived in the province of Echigo, who from her earliest years tended her parents with all filial piety. Her mother, when, after a long illness she lay at the point of death, took out a mirror that she had for many years concealed, and giving it to her daughter, spoke thus, “when I have ceased to exist, take this mirror in thy hand night and morning, and looking at it, fancy that ’tis I thou seest.”With these last words she expired, and the girl, full of grief, and faithful to her mother’s commands, used to take out the mirror night and morning, and gazing in it, saw there in a face like to the face of her mother. Delighted thereat (for the village was situated in a remote country district among the mountains, and a mirror was a thing the girl had never heard of), she daily worshipped her reflected face. She bowed before it till her forehead touched the mat, as if this image had been in very truth her mother’s own self.Her father one day, astonished to see her thus occupied, inquired the reason, which she directly told him. But he burst out laughing, and exclaimed, “Why! ’tis only thine own face, so like to thy mother’s, that is reflected. It is not thy mother’s at all!”This revelation distressed the girl. Yet she replied: “Even if the face be not my mother’s, it is the face of one who belonged to my mother, and therefore my respectfully saluting it twice every day is the same as respectfully saluting her very self.” And so she continued to worship the mirror more and more while tending her father with all filial piety—at least so the story goes, for even to-day, as great poverty and ignorance prevail in some parts of Echigo, the peasantry know as little of mirrors as did this little girl.
There was once a king who was very powerful. He had great influence over the wild beasts and animals. Now the tortoise was looked upon as the wisest of all beasts and men. This king had a son named Ekpenyon, to whom he gave fifty young girls as wives, but the prince did not like any of them. The king was very angry at this, and made a law that if any man had a daughter who was finer than the prince’s wives, and who found favour in his son’s eyes, the girl herself and her father and mother should be killed.Now about this time the tortoise and his wife had a daughter who was very beautiful. The mother thought it was not safe to keep such a fine child, as the prince might fall in love with her, so she told her husband that her daughter ought to be killed and thrown away into the bush. The tortoise, however, was unwilling, and hid her until she was three years old. One day, when both the tortoise and his wife were away on their farm, the king’s son happened to be hunting near their house, and saw a bird perched on the top of the fence round the house. The bird was watching the little girl, and was so entranced with her beauty that he did not notice the prince coming. The prince shot the bird with his bow and arrow, and it dropped inside the fence, so the prince sent his servant to gather it. While the servant was looking for the bird he came across the little girl, and was so struck with her form, that he immediately returned to his master and told him what he had seen. The prince then broke down the fence and found the child, and fell in love with her at once. He stayed and talked with her for a long time, until at last she agreed to become his wife. He then went home, but concealed from his father the fact that he had fallen in love with the beautiful daughter of the tortoise.But the next morning he sent for the treasurer, and got sixty pieces of cloth and three hundred rods, and sent them to the tortoise. Then in the early afternoon he went down to the tortoise’s house, and told him that he wished to marry his daughter. The tortoise saw at once that what he had dreaded had come to pass, and that his life was in danger, so he told the prince that if the king knew, he would kill not only himself (the tortoise), but also his wife and daughter. The prince replied that he would be killed himself before he allowed the tortoise and his wife and daughter to be killed. Eventually, after much argument, the tortoise consented, and agreed to hand his daughter to the prince as his wife when she arrived at the proper age. Then the prince went home and told his mother what he had done. She was in great distress at the thought that she would lose her son, of whom she was very proud, as she knew that when the king heard of his son’s disobedience he would kill him. However, the queen, although she knew how angry her husband would be, wanted her son to marry the girl he had fallen in love with, so she went to the tortoise and gave him some money, clothes, yams, and palm-oil as further dowry on her son’s behalf in order that the tortoise should not give his daughter to another man. For the next five years the prince was constantly with the tortoise’s daughter, whose name was Adet, and when she was about to be put in the fatting house, the prince told his father that he was going to take Adet as his wife. On hearing this the king was very angry, and sent word all round his kingdom that all people should come on a certain day to the market-place to hear the palaver. When the appointed day arrived the market-place was quite full of people, and the stones belonging to the king and queen were placed in the middle of the market-place.When the king and queen arrived all the people stood up and greeted them, and they then sat down on their stones. The king then told his attendants to bring the girl Adet before him. When she arrived the king was quite astonished at her beauty. He then told the people that he had sent for them to tell them that he was angry with his son for disobeying him and taking Adet as his wife without his knowledge, but that now he had seen her himself he had to acknowledge that she was very beautiful, and that his son had made a good choice. He would therefore forgive his son.When the people saw the girl they agreed that she was very fine and quite worthy of being the prince’s wife, and begged the king to cancel the law he had made altogether, and the king agreed; and as the law had been made under the “Egbo” law, he sent for eight Egbos, and told them that the order was cancelled throughout his kingdom, and that for the future no one would be killed who had a daughter more beautiful than the prince’s wives, and gave the Egbos palm wine and money to remove the law, and sent them away. Then he declared that the tortoise’s daughter, Adet, should marry his son, and he made them marry the same day. A great feast was then given which lasted for fifty days, and the king killed five cows and gave all the people plenty of foo-foo and palm-oil chop, and placed a large number of pots of palm wine in the streets for the people to drink as they liked. The women brought a big play to the king’s compound, and there was singing and dancing kept up day and night during the whole time. The prince and his companions also played in the market square. When the feast was over the king gave half of his kingdom to the tortoise to rule over, and three hundred slaves to work on his farm. The prince also gave his father-in-law two hundred women and one hundred girls to work for him, so the tortoise became one of the richest men in the kingdom. The prince and his wife lived together for a good many years until the king died, when the prince ruled in his place. And all this shows that the tortoise is the wisest of all men and animals.Moral.—Always have pretty daughters, as no matter how poor they may be, there is always the chance that the king’s son may fall in love with them, and they may thus become members of the royal house and obtain much wealth.
It was so beautiful in the country. It was the summer time. The wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and the hay stood in great stacks in the green meadows. The stork paraded about among them on his long red legs, chattering away in Egyptian, the language he had learned from his lady mother.All around the meadows and cornfields grew thick woods, and in the midst of the forest was a deep lake. Yes, it was beautiful, it was delightful in the country.In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse circled all about with deep canals; and from the walls down to the water’s edge grew great burdocks, so high that under the tallest of them a little child might stand upright. The spot was as wild as if it had been in the very center of the thick wood.In this snug retreat sat a duck upon her nest, watching for her young brood to hatch; but the pleasure she had felt at first was almost gone; she had begun to think it a wearisome task, for the little ones were so long coming out of their shells, and she seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked much better to swim about in the canals than to climb the slippery banks and sit under the burdock leaves to have a gossip with her. It was a long time to stay so much by herself.At length, however, one shell cracked, and soon another, and from each came a living creature that lifted its head and cried “Peep, peep.”“Quack, quack!” said the mother; and then they all tried to say it, too, as well as they could, while they looked all about them on every side at the tall green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look about as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes.“What a great world it is, to be sure,” said the little ones, when they found how much more room they had than when they were in the eggshell.“Is this all the world, do you imagine?” said the mother. “Wait till you have seen the garden. Far beyond that it stretches down to the pastor’s field, though I have never ventured to such a distance. Are you all out?” she continued, rising to look. “No, not all; the largest egg lies there yet, I declare. I wonder how long this business is to last. I’m really beginning to be tired of it;” but for all that she sat down again.“Well, and how are you to-day?” quacked an old duck who came to pay her a visit.“There’s one egg that takes a deal of hatching. The shell is hard and will not break,” said the fond mother, who sat still upon her nest. “But just look at the others. Have I not a pretty family? Are they not the prettiest little ducklings you ever saw? They are the image of their father—the good for naught! He never comes to see me.”“Let me see the egg that will not break,” said the old duck. “I’ve no doubt it’s a Guinea fowl’s egg. The same thing happened to me once, and a deal of trouble it gave me, for the young ones are afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all to no purpose. Let me take a look at it. Yes, I am right; it’s a Guinea fowl, upon my word; so take my advice and leave it where it is. Come to the water and teach the other children to swim.”“I think I will sit a little while longer,” said the mother. “I have sat so long, a day or two more won’t matter.”“Very well, please yourself,” said the old duck, rising; and she went away.At last the great egg broke, and the latest bird cried “Peep, peep,” as he crept forth from the shell. How big and ugly he was! The mother duck stared at him and did not know what to think. “Really,” she said, “this is an enormous duckling, and it is not at all like any of the others. I wonder if he will turn out to be a Guinea fowl. Well, we shall see when we get to the water—for into the water he must go, even if I have to push him in myself.”On the next day the weather was delightful. The sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves, and the mother duck took her whole family down to the water and jumped in with a splash. “Quack, quack!” cried she, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up again in an instant and swam about quite prettily, with their legs paddling under them as easily as possible; their legs went of their own accord; and the ugly gray-coat was also in the water, swimming with them.“Oh,” said the mother, “that is not a Guinea fowl. See how well he uses his legs, and how erect he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all, if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! come with me now. I will take you into grand society and introduce you to the farmyard, but you must keep close to me or you may be trodden upon; and, above all, beware of the cat.”When they reached the farmyard, there was a wretched riot going on; two families were fighting for an eel’s head, which, after all, was carried off by the cat. “See, children, that is the way of the world,” said the mother duck, whetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel’s head herself. “Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder; she is the highest born of them all and has Spanish blood; therefore she is well off.Don’t you see she has a red rag tied to her leg, which is something very grand and a great honor for a duck; it shows that every one is anxious not to lose her, and that she is to be noticed by both man and beast. Come, now, don’t turn in your toes; a well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother, in this way; now bend your necks and say ‘Quack!'”The ducklings did as they were bade, but the other ducks stared, and said, “Look, here comes another brood—as if there were not enough of us already! And bless me, what a queer-looking object one of them is; we don’t want him here”; and then one flew out and bit him in the neck.“Let him alone,” said the mother; “he is not doing any harm.”“Yes, but he is so big and ugly. He’s a perfect fright,” said the spiteful duck, “and therefore he must be turned out. A little biting will do him good.”“The others are very pretty children,” said the old duck with the rag on her leg, “all but that one. I wish his mother could smooth him up a bit; he is really ill-favored.”“That is impossible, your grace,” replied the mother. “He is not pretty, but he has a very good disposition and swims as well as the others or even better. I think he will grow up pretty, and perhaps be smaller. He has remained too long in the egg, and therefore his figure is not properly formed;” and then she stroked his neck and smoothed the feathers, saying: “It is a drake, and therefore not of so much consequence. I think he will grow up strong and able to take care of himself.”“The other ducklings are graceful enough,” said the old duck. “Now make yourself at home, and if you find an eel’s head you can bring it to me.”And so they made themselves comfortable; but the poor duckling who had crept out of his shell last of all and looked so ugly was bitten and pushed and made fun of, not only by the ducks but by all the poultry.“He became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly as to be laughed at by the whole farmyard.” Illustration by Milo Winter. Published in Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen (1916), Rand McNally and Company.“He is too big,” they all said; and the turkey cock, who had been born into the world with spurs and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel in full sail and flew at the duckling. He became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly as to be laughed at by the whole farmyard.So it went on from day to day; it got worse and worse. The poor duckling was driven about by every one; even his brothers and sisters were unkind to him and would say, “Ah, you ugly creature, I wish the cat would get you” and his mother had been heard to say she wished he had never been born. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed the poultry pushed him with her feet. So at last he ran away, frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the palings. “They are afraid because I am so ugly,” he said. So he flew still farther, until he came out on a large moor inhabited by wild ducks. Here he remained the whole night, feeling very sorrowful.In the morning, when the wild ducks rose in the air, they stared at their new comrade. “What sort of a duck are you?” they all said, coming round him.He bowed to them and was as polite as he could be, but he did not reply to their question. “You are exceedingly ugly,” said the wild ducks; “but that will not matter if you do not want to marry one of our family.”Poor thing! he had no thoughts of marriage; all he wanted was permission to lie among the rushes and drink some of the water on the moor. After he had been on the moor two days, there came two wild geese, or rather goslings, for they had not been out of the egg long, which accounts for their impertinence. “Listen, friend,” said one of them to the duckling; “you are so ugly that we like you very well. Will you go with us and become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which there are some wild geese, all of them unmarried. It is a chance for you to get a wife. You may make your fortune, ugly as you are.”“Bang, bang,” sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood. “Bang, bang,” echoed far and wide in the distance, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the rushes.The sound continued from every direction, for the sportsmen surrounded the moor, and some were even seated on branches of trees, overlooking the rushes. The blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark trees, and as it floated away across the water, a number of sporting dogs bounded in among the rushes, which bent beneath them wherever they went.How they terrified the poor duckling! He turned away his head to hide it under his wing, and at the same moment a large, terrible dog passed quite near him. His jaws were open, his tongue hung from his mouth, and his eyes glared fearfully. He thrust his nose close to the duckling, showing his sharp teeth, and then “splash, splash,” he went into the water, without touching him.“Oh,” sighed the duckling, “how thankful I am for being so ugly; even a dog will not bite me.”And so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes, and gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all became quiet, but even then the poor young thing did not dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours and then, after looking carefully around him, hastened away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over field and meadow till a storm arose, and he could hardly struggle against it.Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only seemed to remain standing because it could not decide on which side to fall first. The storm continued so violent that the duckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not quite closed, in consequence of one of the hinges having given way. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the bottom large enough for him to slip through, which he did very quietly, and got a shelter for the night. Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a cat, and a hen.“Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a cat, and a hen.” Illustration by Eleanor Vere Boyle. Published in Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen (1872), Sampson, Low, Marsten, Low and Searle.The cat, whom his mistress called “My little son,” was a great favorite; he could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw out sparks from his fur if it were stroked the wrong way. The hen had very short legs, so she was called “Chickie Short-legs.” She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she had been her own child. In the morning the strange visitor was discovered; the cat began to purr and the hen to cluck.“What is that noise about?” said the old woman, looking around the room. But her sight was not very good; therefore when she saw the duckling she thought it must be a fat duck that had strayed from home. “Oh, what a prize!” she exclaimed. “I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have some ducks’ eggs. I must wait and see.”So the duckling was allowed to remain on trial for three weeks; but there were no eggs.Now the cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress; and they always said, “We and the world,” for they believed themselves to be half the world, and by far the better half, too. The duckling thought that others might hold a different opinion on the subject, but the hen would not listen to such doubts.“Can you lay eggs?” she asked. “No.” “Then have the goodness to cease talking.” “Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?” said the cat. “No.” “Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking.” So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low-spirited; but when the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the open door, he began to feel such a great longing for a swim that he could not help speaking of it.“What an absurd idea!” said the hen. “You have nothing else to do; therefore you have foolish fancies. If you could purr or lay eggs, they would pass away.”“But it is so delightful to swim about on the water,” said the duckling, “and so refreshing to feel it close over your head while you dive down to the bottom.”“Delightful, indeed! it must be a queer sort of pleasure,” said the hen. “Why, you must be crazy! Ask the cat—he is the cleverest animal I know; ask him how he would like to swim about on the water, or to dive under it, for I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old woman; there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you think she would relish swimming and letting the water close over her head?”“I see you don’t understand me,” said the duckling.“We don’t understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman?—I will say nothing of myself. Don’t imagine such nonsense, child, and thank your good fortune that you have been so well received here. Are you not in a warm room and in society from which you may learn something? But you are a chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for your good. I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that is a proof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs and learn to purr as quickly as possible.”“I believe I must go out into the world again,” said the duckling.“Yes, do,” said the hen. So the duckling left the cottage and soon found water on which it could swim and dive, but he was avoided by all other animals because of his ugly appearance.Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold; then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell and whirled them into the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snowflakes, hung low in the sky, and the raven stood among the reeds, crying, “Croak, croak.” It made one shiver with cold to look at him. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling.One evening, just as the sun was setting amid radiant clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before. They were swans; and they curved their graceful necks, while their soft plumage shone with dazzling whiteness. They uttered a singular cry as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea.They mounted higher and higher in the air, and the ugly little duckling had a strange sensation as he watched them. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry so strange that it frightened even himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy birds! And when at last they were out of his sight, he dived under the water and rose again almost beside himself with excitement. He knew not the names of these birds nor where they had flown, but he felt towards them as he had never felt towards any other bird in the world.He was not envious of these beautiful creatures; it never occurred to him to wish to be as lovely as they. Poor ugly creature, how gladly he would have lived even with the ducks, had they only treated him kindly and given him encouragement.The winter grew colder and colder; he was obliged to swim about on the water to keep it from freezing, but every night the space on which he swam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he moved, and the duckling had to paddle with his legs as well as he could, to keep the space from closing up. He became exhausted at last and lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.Early in the morning a peasant who was passing by saw what had happened. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature; but when the children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought they would do him some harm, so he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk pan, and splashed the milk about the room. Then the woman clapped her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter cask, then into the meal tub and out again. What a condition he was in! The woman screamed and struck at him with the tongs; the children laughed and screamed and tumbled over each other in their efforts to catch him, but luckily he escaped. The door stood open; the poor creature could just manage to slip out among the bushes and lie down quite exhausted in the newly fallen snow.It would be very sad were I to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter; but when it had passed he found himself lying one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. He felt the warm sun shining and heard the lark singing and saw that all around was beautiful spring.Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong, as he flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air. They bore him onwards until, before he well knew how it had happened, he found himself in a large garden. The apple trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the stream, which wound round a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the smooth water. The duckling saw these lovely birds and felt more strangely unhappy than ever.“I will fly to these royal birds,” he exclaimed, “and they will kill me because, ugly as I am, I dare to approach them. But it does not matter; better be killed by them than pecked by the ducks, beaten by the hens, pushed about by the maiden who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in the winter.”Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful swans. The moment they espied the stranger they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings.“Kill me,” said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and awaited death.But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image—no longer a dark-gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan.To be born in a duck’s nest in a farmyard is of no consequence to a bird if it is hatched from a swan’s egg. He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him; for the great swans swam round the newcomer and stroked his neck with their beaks, as a welcome.Into the garden presently came some little children and threw bread and cake into the water.“See,” cried the youngest, “there is a new one;” and the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands and shouting joyously, “There is another swan come; a new one has arrived.”Then they threw more bread and cake into the water and said, “The new one is the most beautiful of all, he is so young and pretty.” And the old swans bowed their heads before him.Then he felt quite ashamed and hid his head under his wing, for he did not know what to do, he was so happy—yet he was not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, “I never dreamed of such happiness as this while I was the despised ugly duckling.”
Once on a time there was a poor, poor Widow, who had an only Son. She dragged on with the boy till he had been confirmed, and then she said she couldn’t feed him any longer, he must just go out and earn his own bread. So the lad wandered out into the world, and when he had walked a day or so, a strange man met him.“Whither away?” asked the man.“Oh, I’m going out into the world to try and get a place,” said the lad.“Will you come and serve me?” said the man.“Oh, yes; just as soon you as any one else,” said the lad.“Well, you’ll have a good place with me,” said the man; “for you’ll only have to keep me company, and do nothing at all else beside.”So the lad stopped with him, and lived on the fat of the land, both in meat and drink, and had little or nothing to do; but he never saw a living soul in that man’s house.So one day the man said:“Now, I’m going off for eight days, and that time you’ll have to spend here all alone; but you must not go into any one of these four rooms here. If you do, I’ll take your life when I come back.”“No,” said the lad, he’d be sure not to do that. But when the man had been gone three or four days, the lad couldn’t bear it any longer, but went into the first room, and when he got inside he looked round, but he saw nothing but a shelf over the door where a bramble-bush rod lay.Well, indeed! thought the lad; a pretty thing to forbid my seeing this.So when the eight days were out, the man came home, and the first thing he said was:“You haven’t been into any of these rooms, of course.”“No, no; that I haven’t,” said the lad.“I’ll soon see that,” said the man, and went at once into the room where the lad had been.“Nay, but you have been in here,” said he; “and now you shall lose your life.”Then the lad begged and prayed so hard that he got off with his life, but the man gave him a good thrashing. And when it was over, they were as good friends as ever.Some time after the man set off again, and said he should be away fourteen days; but before he went he forbade the lad to go into any of the rooms he had not been in before; as for that he had been in, he might go into that, and welcome. Well, it was the same story over again, except that the lad stood out eight days before he went in. In this room, too, he saw nothing but a shelf over the door, and a big stone, and a pitcher of water on it. Well, after all, there’s not much to be afraid of my seeing here, thought the lad.But when the man came back, he asked if he had been into any of the rooms. No, the lad hadn’t done anything of the kind.“Well, well; I’ll soon see that,” said the man; and when he saw the lad had been in them after all, he said:“Ah! now I’ll spare you no longer; now you must lose your life.”But the lad begged and prayed for himself again, and so this time too he got off with stripes; though he got as many as his skin would carry. But when he got sound and well again, he led just as easy a life as ever, and he and the man were just as good friends.So a while after the man was to take another journey, and now he said he should be away three weeks, and he forbade the lad anew to go into the third room, for if he went in there he might just make up his mind at once to lose his life. Then after fourteen days the lad couldn’t bear it, but crept into the room, but he saw nothing at all in there but a trap door on the floor; and when he lifted it up and looked down, there stood a great copper cauldron which bubbled up and boiled away down there; but he saw no fire under it.“Well, I should just like to know if it’s hot,” thought the lad, and struck his finger down into the broth, and when he pulled it out again, lo! it was gilded all over. So the lad scraped and scrubbed it, but the gilding wouldn’t go off, so he bound a piece of rag round it; and when the man came back, and asked what was the matter with his finger, the lad said he’d given it such a bad cut. But the man tore off the rag, and then he soon saw what was the matter with the finger. First he wanted to kill the lad outright, but when he wept, and begged, he only gave him such a thrashing that he had to keep his bed three days. After that the man took down a pot from the wall, and rubbed him over with some stuff out of it, and so the lad was as sound and fresh as ever.So after a while the man started off again, and this time he was to be away a month. But before he went, he said to the lad, if he went into the fourth room he might give up all hope of saving his life.Well, the lad stood out for two or three weeks, but then he couldn’t hold out any longer; he must and would go into that room, and so in he stole. There stood a great black horse tied up in a stall by himself, with a manger of red-hot coals at his head and a truss of hay at his tail. Then the lad thought this all wrong, so he changed them about, and put the hay at his head. Then said the Horse:“Since you are so good at heart as to let me have some food, I’ll set you free, that I will. For if the Troll comes back and finds you here, he’ll kill you outright. But now you must go up to the room which lies just over this, and take a coat of mail out of those that hang there; and mind, whatever you do, don’t take any of the bright ones, but the most rusty of all you see, that’s the one to take; and sword and saddle you must choose for yourself just in the same way.”So the lad did all that; but it was a heavy load for him to carry them all down at once.When he came back, the Horse told him to pull off his clothes and get into the cauldron which stood and boiled in the other room, and bathe himself there. “If I do,” thought the lad, “I shall look an awful fright;” but for all that, he did as he was told. So when he had taken his bath, he became so handsome and sleek, and as red and white as milk and blood, and much stronger than he had been before.“Do you feel any change?” asked the Horse.“Yes,” said the lad.“Try and lift me, then,” said the Horse.Oh yes! he could do that, and as for the sword, he brandished it like a feather.“Now saddle me,” said the Horse, “and put on the coat of mail, and then take the bramble-bush rod, and the stone, and the pitcher of water, and the pot of ointment, and then we’ll be off as fast as we can.”So when the lad had got on the horse, off they went at such a rate, he couldn’t at all tell how they went. But when he had ridden awhile, the Horse said, “I think I hear a noise; look round! can you see anything?”“Yes; there are ever so many coming after us, at least a score,” said the lad.“Aye, aye, that’s the Troll coming,” said the Horse; “now he’s after us with his pack.”So they rode on a while, until those who followed were close behind them.“Now throw your bramble-bush rod behind you, over your shoulder,” said the Horse; “but mind you throw it a good way off my back.”So the lad did that, and all at once a close, thick bramblewood grew up behind them. So the lad rode on a long, long time, while the Troll and his crew had to go home to fetch something to hew their way through the wood. But at last the Horse said again:“Look behind you! can you see anything now?”“Yes, ever so many,” said the lad, “as many as would fill a large church.”“Aye, aye, that’s the Troll and his crew,” said the Horse; “now he’s got more to back him; but now throw down the stone, and mind you throw it far behind me.”And as soon as the lad did what the Horse said, up rose a great black hill of rock behind him. So the Troll had to be off home to fetch something to mine his way through the rock; and while the Troll did that, the lad rode a good bit further on. But still the Horse begged him to look behind him, and then he saw a troop like a whole army behind him, and they glistened in the sunbeams.“Aye, aye,” said the Horse, “that’s the Troll, and now he’s got his whole band with him, so throw the pitcher of water behind you, but mind you don’t spill any of it upon me.”So the lad did that; but in spite of all the pains he took, he still spilt one drop on the horse’s flank. So it became a great deep lake; and because of that one drop, the horse found himself far out in it, but still he swam safe to land. But when the Trolls came to the lake, they lay down to drink it dry; and so they swilled and swilled till they burst.“Now we’re rid of them,” said the Horse.So when they had gone a long, long while, they came to a green patch in a wood.“Now, strip off all your arms,” said the Horse, “and only put on your ragged clothes, and take the saddle off me, and let me loose, and hang all my clothing and your arms up inside that great hollow lime-tree yonder. Then make yourself a wig of fir-moss, and go up to the king’s palace, which lies close here, and ask for a place. Whenever you need me, only come here and shake the bridle, and I’ll come to you.”Yes! the lad did all his Horse told him, and as soon as ever he put on the wig of moss he became so ugly, and pale, and miserable to look at, no one would have known him again. Then he went up to the king’s palace and begged first for leave to be in the kitchen, and bring in wood and water for the cook, but then the kitchen-maid asked him:“Why do you wear that ugly wig? Off with it. I won’t have such a fright in here.”“No, I can’t do that,” said the lad; “for I’m not quite right in my head.”“Do you think then I’ll have you in here about the food,” cried the cook. “Away with you to the coachman; you’re best fit to go and clean the stable.”But when the coachman begged him to take his wig off, he got the same answer, and he wouldn’t have him either.“You’d best go down to the gardener,” said he; “you’re best fit to go about and dig in the garden.”So he got leave to be with the gardener, but none of the other servants would sleep with him, and so he had to sleep by himself under the steps of the summer-house. It stood upon beams, and had a high staircase. Under that he got some turf for his bed, and there he lay as well as he could.So, when he had been some time at the palace, it happened one morning, just as the sun rose, that the lad had taken off his wig, and stood and washed himself, and then he was so handsome, it was a joy to look at him.So the Princess saw from her window the lovely gardener’s boy, and thought she had never seen any one so handsome. Then she asked the gardener why he lay out there under the steps.“Oh,” said the gardener, “none of his fellow-servants will sleep with him; that’s why.”“Let him come up to-night, and lie at the door inside my bedroom, and then they’ll not refuse to sleep with him any more,” said the Princess.So the gardener told that to the lad.“Do you think I’ll do any such thing?” said the lad. “Why they’d say next there was something between me and the Princess.”“Yes,” said the gardener, “you’ve good reason to fear any such thing, you who are so handsome.”“Well, well,” said the lad, “since it’s her will, I suppose I must go.”So, when he was to go up the steps in the evening, he tramped and stamped so on the way, that they had to beg him to tread softly lest the King should come to know it. So he came into the Princess’ bedroom, lay down, and began to snore at once. Then the Princess said to her maid:“Go gently, and just pull his wig off;” and she went up to him.“And this time she whisked off the wig. And there lay the lad, so lovely and white and red, just as the Princess had seen him in the morning sun.” Illustration by Kay Nielsen. Published in East of the Sun and West of the Moon by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Engebretsen Moe. George H. Doran Company.But just as she was going to whisk it off, he caught hold of it with both hands, and said she should never have it. After that he lay down again, and began to snore. Then the Princess gave her maid a wink, and this time she whisked off the wig; and there lay the lad so lovely, and white and red, just as the Princess had seen him in the morning sun.After that the lad slept every night in the Princess’ bedroom.But it wasn’t long before the King came to hear how the gardener’s lad slept every night in the Princess’ bedroom; and he got so wroth he almost took the lad’s life. He didn’t do that, however, but he threw him into the prison tower; and as for his daughter, he shut her up in her own room, whence she never got leave to stir day or night. All that she begged, and all that she prayed, for the lad and herself, was no good. The King was only more wroth than ever.Some time after came a war and uproar in the land, and the King had to take up arms against another king who wished to take the kingdom from him. So when the lad heard that, he begged the gaoler to go to the King and ask for a coat of mail and a sword, and for leave to go to the war. All the rest laughed when the gaoler told his errand, and begged the King to let him have an old worn-out suit, that they might have the fun of seeing such a wretch in battle. So he got that, and an old broken-down hack besides, which went upon three legs, and dragged the fourth after it.Then they went out to meet the foe; but they hadn’t got far from the palace before the lad got stuck fast in a bog with his hack. There he sat and dug his spurs in, and cried, “Gee up! gee up!” to his hack. And all the rest had their fun out of this, and laughed, and made game of the lad as they rode past him. But they were scarcely gone, before he ran to the lime-tree, threw on his coat of mail, and shook the bridle, and there came the Horse in a trice, and said: “Do now your best, and I’ll do mine.”But when the lad came up the battle had begun, and the King was in a sad pinch; but no sooner had the lad rushed into the thick of it than the foe was beaten back, and put to flight. The King and his men wondered and wondered who it could be who had come to help them, but none of them got so near him as to be able to talk to him, and as soon as the fight was over he was gone. When they went back, there sat the lad still in the bog, and dug his spurs into his three-legged hack, and they all laughed again.“No! only just look,” they said; “there the fool sits still.”The next day when they went out to battle, they saw the lad sitting there still, so they laughed again, and made game of him; but as soon as ever they had ridden by, the lad ran again to the lime-tree, and all happened as on the first day. Every one wondered what strange champion it could be that had helped them, but no one got so near him as to say a word to him; and no one guessed it could be the lad; that’s easy to understand.So when they went home at night, and saw the lad still sitting there on his hack, they burst out laughing at him again, and one of them shot an arrow at him and hit him in the leg. So he began to shriek and to bewail; ’twas enough to break one’s heart; and so the King threw his pocket-handkerchief to him to bind his wound.When they went out to battle the third day, the lad still sat there.“Gee up! gee up!” he said to his hack.“Nay, nay,” said the King’s men; “if he won’t stick there till he’s starved to death.”And then they rode on, and laughed at him till they were fit to fall from their horses. When they were gone, he ran again to the lime, and came up to the battle just in the very nick of time. This day he slew the enemy’s king, and then the war was over at once.When the battle was over, the King caught sight of his handkerchief, which the strange warrior had bound round his leg, and so it wasn’t hard to find him out. So they took him with great joy between them to the palace, and the Princess, who saw him from her window, got so glad, no one can believe it.“Here comes my own true love,” she said.Then he took the pot of ointment and rubbed himself on the leg, and after that he rubbed all the wounded, and so they all got well again in a moment.So he got the Princess to wife; but when he went down into the stable where his horse was on the day the wedding was to be, there it stood so dull and heavy, and hung its ears down, and wouldn’t eat its corn. So when the young King—for he was now a king, and had got half the kingdom—spoke to him, and asked what ailed him, the Horse said:“Now I have helped you on, and now I won’t live any longer. So just take the sword, and cut my head off.”“No, I’ll do nothing of the kind,” said the young King; “but you shall have all you want, and rest all your life.”“Well,” said the Horse, “if you don’t do as I tell you, see if I don’t take your life somehow.”So the King had to do what he asked; but when he swung the sword and was to cut his head off, he was so sorry he turned away his face, for he would not see the stroke fall. But as soon as ever he had cut off the head, there stood the loveliest Prince on the spot where the horse had stood.“Why, where in all the world did you come from?” asked the King.“It was I who was a horse,” said the Prince; “for I was king of that land whose king you slew yesterday. He it was who threw this Troll’s shape over me, and sold me to the Troll. But now he is slain I get my own again, and you and I will be neighbour kings, but war we will never make on one another.”And they didn’t either; for they were friends as long as they lived, and each paid the other very many visits.
There was once a Bald Man who sat down after work on a hot summer’s day. A Fly came up and kept buzzing about his bald pate, and stinging him from time to time. The Man aimed a blow at his little enemy, but his palm came on his head instead; again the Fly tormented him, but this time the Man was wiser and said: “You will only injure yourself if you take notice of despicable enemies.”
As an honest woodman was sitting one evening, after his work was done, talking with his wife, he said, “I hope the children will not run into that grove by the side of the river; it looks more gloomy than ever; the old oak tree is sadly blasted and torn; and some odd folks, I am sure, are lurking about there, but who they are nobody knows.” The woodman, however, could not say that they brought ill luck, whatever they were; for every one said that the village had thriven more than ever of late, that the fields looked gayer and greener, that even the sky was of a deeper blue, and that the moon and stars shed a brighter light. So, not knowing what to think, the good people very wisely let the new comers alone; and, in truth, seldom said or thought anything at all about them.That very evening, the woodman’s daughter Roseken, and her playfellow Martin, ran out to have a game of hide-and-seek in the valley. “Where can he be hidden?” said she; “he must have gone towards the grove; perhaps he is behind the old oak tree”: and down she ran to look. Just then she spied a little dog that jumped and frisked round her, and wagged his tail, and led her on towards the grove. Then he ran into it, and she soon jumped up the bank by the side of the old oak to look for him; but was overjoyed to see a beautiful meadow, where flowers and shrubs of every kind grew upon turf of the softest green; gay butterflies flew about; the birds sang sweetly; and what was strangest, the prettiest little children sported about like fairies on all sides; some twining the flowers, and others dancing in rings upon the smooth turf beneath the trees. In the midst of the grove, instead of the hovels of which Roseken had heard, she could see a palace, that dazzled her eyes with its brightness.“She gazed upon the fairy scene.” Illustration by Helen Stratton, published in Grimm’s Fairy Tales by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (1909), Blackie and Son.For a while she gazed on the fairy scene, till at last one of the little dancers ran up to her, and said, “And so, pretty Roseken, you are come at last to see us? We have often seen you play about, and wished to have you with us.” Then she plucked some of the fruit that grew near, and Roseken at the first taste forgot her home, and wished only to see and know more of her fairy friends. So she jumped down from the bank and joined the merry dance.Then they led her about with them, and showed her all their sports. One while they danced by moonlight on the primrose banks, at another time they skipped from bough to bough, among the trees that hung over the cooling streams, for they moved as lightly and easily through the air as on the ground: and Roseken went with them everywhere, for they bore her in their arms wherever they wished to go. Sometimes they would throw seeds on the turf, and little trees would spring up; and then they would set their feet upon the branches, and rise as the trees grew under them, till they danced upon the boughs in the air, wherever the breezes carried them, singing merry songs.At other times they would go and visit the palace of their queen: and there the richest food was spread before them, and the softest music was heard; and all around grew flowers, which were always changing their hues, from scarlet to purple, and yellow, and emerald. Sometimes they went to look at the heaps of treasure which were piled up in the royal stores; for little dwarfs were always employed in searching the earth for gold. Small as this fairy land looked from without, it seemed within to have no end; a mist hung around it to shield it from the eyes of men; and some of the little elves sat perched upon the outermost trees, to keep watch lest the step of man should break in and spoil the charm.“And who are you?” said Roseken one day. “We are what are called elves in your world,” said one whose name was Gossamer, and who had become her dearest friend: “we are told you talk a great deal about us. Some of our tribes like to work you mischief, but we who live here seek only to be happy; we meddle little with mankind, and when we do come among them it is to do them good.” “And where is your queen?” said Roseken. “Hush! hush! you cannot see or know her: you must leave us before she comes back, which will be now very soon, for mortal step cannot come where she is. But you will know that she is here, when you see the meadows gayer, the rivers more sparkling, and the sun brighter.”Soon afterwards Gossamer told Roseken the time was come to bid her farewell; and she gave her a ring in token of their friendship, and led her to the edge of the grove. “Think of me,” said she; “but beware how you tell what you have seen, or try to visit any of us again: for if you do, we shall quit this grove and come back no more.” Turning back, Roseken saw nothing but the old oak and the gloomy grove she had known before. “How frightened my father and mother will be!” thought she, as she looked at the sun, which had risen some time. “They will wonder where I have been all night, and yet I must not tell them what I have seen.”Then she hastened homewards, wondering, however, as she went, to see that the leaves, which were yesterday so fresh and green, were now falling dry and yellow around her. The cottage, too, seemed changed; and when she went in, there sat her father, looking some years older than when she saw him last, and her mother, whom she hardly knew, was by his side. Close by was a young man. “Father,” said Roseken, “who is this?” “Who are you that call me father?” said he; “are you—no, you cannot be—our long-lost Roseken?” But they soon saw that it was their Roseken; and the young man, who was her old friend and playfellow Martin, said, “No wonder you had forgotten me in seven years; do not you remember how we parted, seven years ago, while playing in the field? We thought you were quite lost; but I am glad to see that some one has taken care of you, and brought you home at last.” Roseken said nothing, for she could not tell all; but she wondered at the strange tale, and felt gloomy at the change from fairy land to her father’s cottage.Little by little she came to herself, thought of her story as a mere dream, and soon became Martin’s bride. Everything seemed to thrive around them; and Roseken thought of her friends, and so called her first little girl Elfie. The little thing was loved by every one. It was pretty and very good-tempered. Roseken thought that it was very like a little elf; and all, without knowing why, called it the fairy-child.One day, while Roseken was dressing her little Elfie, she found a piece of gold hanging round her neck by a silken thread; and knew it to be of the same sort as she had seen in the hands of the fairy dwarfs. Elfie seemed sorry at its being seen, and said that she had found it in the garden. But Roseken watched her, and soon found that she went every afternoon to sit by herself in a shady place behind the house. So one day she hid herself to see what the child did there, and to her great wonder Gossamer was sitting by her side. “Dear Elfie,” she was saying, “your mother and I used to sit thus when she was young and lived among us. Oh, if you could but come and do so too! But since our queen came to us it cannot be; yet I will come and see you, and talk to you whilst you are a child; when you grow up we must part for ever.” Then she plucked one of the roses that grew around them, and breathed gently upon it, and said, “Take this for my sake! it will now keep fresh for a whole year.”Then Roseken loved her little Elfie more than ever; and when she found that she spent some hours of almost every day with the elf, she used to hide herself and watch them without being seen; till one day, when Gossamer was bearing her little friend through the air from tree to tree, her mother was so frightened lest her child should fall, that she could not help screaming out; and Gossamer set her gently on the ground, and seemed angry, and flew away. But still she used sometimes to come and play with her little friend; and would soon, perhaps, have done so the same as before, had not Roseken one day told her husband the whole story: for she could not bear to hear him always wondering and laughing at their little child’s odd ways, and saying he was sure there was something in the grove that brought them no good. So, to show him that all she said was true, she took him to see Elfie and the fairy; but no sooner did Gossamer know that he was there (which she did in an instant), than she changed herself into a raven, and flew off into the grove.Roseken burst into tears, and so did Elfie, for she knew she should see her dear friend no more; but Martin was restless and bent upon following up his search after the fairies, so when night came he stole away towards the grove. When he came to it nothing was to be seen but the old oak, and the gloomy grove, and the hovels; and the thunder rolled, and the wind whistled. It seemed that all about him was angry, so he turned homewards, frightened at what he had done.In the morning all the neighbours flocked around, asking one another what the noise and bustle of the last night could mean; and when they looked about them, their trees seemed blighted and the meadows parched, the streams were dried up, and everything seemed troubled and sorrowful.But yet they all thought that, somehow or other, the grove had not near so forbidding a look as it used to have. Strange stories were told: how one had heard flutterings in the air, another had seen the grove as it were alive with little beings, that flew away from it. Each neighbour told his tale, and all wondered what could have happened. But Roseken and her husband knew what was the matter, and bewailed their folly; for they foresaw that their kind neighbours, to whom they owed all their luck, were gone for ever.Among the bystanders none told a wilder story than the old ferryman, who plied across the river at the foot of the grove. He told how at midnight his boat was carried away, and how hundreds of little beings seemed to load it with treasures: how a strange piece of gold was left for him in the boat as his fare; how the air seemed full of fairy forms fluttering around; and how at last a great train passed over, that seemed to be guarding their leader to the meadows on the other side; and how he heard soft music floating around; and how sweet voices sang as they hovered overhead,—⁠Fairy Queen!⁠Fairy Queen!Mortal steps are on the green;⁠Come away!⁠Haste away!⁠Fairies, guard your Queen!Hither, hither, Fairy Queen!Lest thy silvery wing be seen;⁠O’er the sky.⁠Fly, fly, fly!⁠Fairies, guard your lady Queen!⁠O’er the sky,⁠Fly, fly, fly!⁠Fairies, guard your Queen!⁠Fairy Queen!⁠Fairy Queen!Mortal steps no more are seen;⁠Now we may⁠Down and play⁠O’er the daisied green.Lightly, lightly, Fairy Queen!Trip it gently o’er the green!⁠Fairies gay,⁠Trip away,Round about your lady Queen!⁠Fairies gay,⁠Trip away,⁠Round about your Queen!Poor Elfie mourned their loss the most; and would spend whole hours in looking upon the rose that her playfellow had given her, and singing over it the pretty airs she had taught her: till at length, when the year’s charm had passed away, and it began to fade, she planted the stalk in her garden, and there it grew and grew, till she could sit under the shade of it, and think of her friend Gossamer.
A Rooster was once strutting up and down the farmyard among the hens when suddenly he espied something shinning amid the straw. “Ho! ho!” quoth he, “that’s for me,” and soon rooted it out from beneath the straw. What did it turn out to be but a Pearl that by some chance had been lost in the yard? “You may be a treasure,” quoth Master Rooster, “to men that prize you, but for me I would rather have a single barley-corn than a peck of pearls.” Precious things are for those that can prize them.
Once upon a time a number of Dogs, who were famished with hunger, saw some Hides steeping in a river, but couldn’t get at them because the water was too deep. So they put their heads together, and decided to drink away at the river till it was shallow enough for them to reach the Hides. But long before that happened they burst themselves with drinking.
Once upon a time there was an old woman who had no children and owned nothing but the little cottage she lived in. Every day, she would go into the forest to gather firewood. One day a little snake slithered into her bundle of wood. Not noticing it, the old woman heaved the wood over her shoulder and returned home. When she dropped the wood on the floor, the snake crawled out and began to play with the cat. The old woman left the snake alone and kept it for a son because she had no children. The snake grew and grew and one day it said to her, "Old woman, go to the king and tell him to give me his daughter in marriage." She replied, "All right, my son, but how do you expect the king to give you his only daughter. You're a snake!" "That doesn't matter, mother, go anyway and we'll see what he says."
The old woman did as the snake had said and went to see the king. But the guards at the palace gate, having asked her what she wanted and what her business with the king was, would not let her enter. The old woman, nevertheless, refused to be turned away and insisted on seeing the king alone, until finally the guards allowed her to pass. She went up to see the king and said to him, "I am very embarrassed about this, but I promised to ask you, so I will. My son is a snake and wants to marry Your Majesty's daughter." When the king heard this, he became furious and kicked the old woman down the stairs, breaking her leg. She limped home, cursing the snake because she was now a cripple. The snake said to her, "Don't worry about your leg, I'll heal it. But you must not give up yet!" 
The snake then produced a ring, blew on it and said, "Heal the old woman's leg!" Immediately the leg was healed. The next morning the snake sent the old woman back to the king and the very same thing happened. After being kicked and beaten, she swore she would never again set foot in the palace again. 
The third day, the snake said to her, "Go back to the king again. This is the last time I'll send you." The old woman was unwilling at first, but since the snake promised that it was the last time, she went back to the king and said to him, "Your Majesty, I must have your daughter as a wife for my son. Otherwise I will be in great trouble." The king chuckled and replied, "I will give my daughter to your son under the following conditions. Your cottage must be a palace as big as mine by tomorrow. The path from your door to my door must be spanned with silk and four hundred attendants must be waiting on horseback, one for every hue and colour on earth. If you can do all that by tomorrow morning, I will give my daughter to your son in marriage." When the old woman heard this she departed, happy this time not to be kicked and beaten about. She reported to the snake what the king had said and the snake simply replied, "Everything will be ready in time."
At the stroke of midnight, the snake blew on the ring and said, "May the old woman's cottage turn into a palace bigger than the king's!" And at once the cottage became a palace. The old woman, who was sleeping on a mat on the floor, suddenly found herself in a real bed complete with a bell for the maid. The snake then blew on the ring again and said, "May the path between our door and the door of the king's palace be spanned with silk!" And so it happened. Then the snake blew on the ring a third time and said, "May four hundred attendants on horseback, dressed in every hue and colour, await our command!" And they too appeared. When the snake was finished, he lay down to go to sleep. Before doing so, however, he ordered the attendants on horseback to keep guard around the house.
When the king got up the next morning, he looked out the window and saw a huge, magnificent palace and wondered whom it belonged to. He called his wife over and asked her, "Is that really a palace, wife, or are my eyes deceiving me?" "It is a palace all right," she replied. "Yesterday there was a cottage there belonging to an old woman." Then the king remembered the conditions he had set the old woman and the two of them, the king and queen, began to lament the fate of their poor daughter. Now she would have to marry the snake because they had given their word and could not break it. The time came for the bride to be fetched and the horsemen were readied. They mounted the snake in the saddle with them and, singing a ballad, rode off to the king. There they lifted the snake off the horse and took it to the king and queen. The two were most distressed and thought to themselves, "It would be better for us to kill our daughter. What a dreadful fate to have a snake for a son in law!
The attendants picked up the bride and the wedding took place. After the festivities, the time came for the groom to be led to the bride's chamber. When the girl saw the snake, she screamed in horror. The snake, however, shed its skin and turned into such a handsome young man that she was completely overwhelmed. Then he said to her, "My dear wife, never tell anyone that I am a human being by night and a snake by day. For if you do I will disappear and you will never find me again!" She replied, "All right, dear husband, I won't tell anyone. But tell me at least what your name is!" He told her he was called Swift. The next morning the king sent someone to the snake's palace to find out whether his daughter was still alive. When he was told that she was fine and there was no need to worry, he became suspicious and didn't believe what he had heard.
The next week, the king sent a servant to invite his daughter and the snake to lunch. When his daughter and his son in law arrived, the girl's mother began to weep, saying, "Oh, my poor daughter. We have caused you such grief! How miserable you must be!" But the girl replied that she felt very lucky. 
A few days later, a great wedding was to be held in another part of town, to which the king and his daughter were invited. The snake said to his wife, "You go ahead. I'll come later this evening so that no one will know that it is I, turned into a human being. And remember, you mustn't tell anybody what you know because you won't see me again if you do." The girl went off to the wedding alone and when darkness fell, the snake shed its skin, put on some splendid garments and followed her. When the two arrived, everyone rose in awe because they thought an angel had just come in. A little later, he began to dance so gracefully that everyone stood still in amazement and thought, "That is no being of this world. He must be from heaven!" The girl's mother, sitting beside her, said, "My dear girl, how lucky you would be if you had a man like that for a husband!" The girl couldn't stand it any longer and burst out, "That is my husband, mother. That is Swift, the man I love." The moment she spoke, Swift became invisible and no one understood where he had disappeared to so swiftly. The girl looked around, could not see him anywhere and broke into tears. "Now look what you made me do, mother!" she sobbed. "He warned me not to tell anyone who he was or he would leave me forever! I must set off in search of him. He told me that if I tried to find him I would need iron shoes, an iron staff and a travelling case." Her parents gave her what she needed and she set off in search of her husband.
She roamed for days and nights and finally went to seek the advice of the sun. Only the sun's mother and children were at home and the children immediately set upon the girl to devour her. The mother, however, stopped them and invited the girl in. "Why have you come here?" she asked. The girl told her everything that had happened and said, "I would like to ask your child, the sun, whether he has seen my husband anywhere in the course of his travels." The old woman replied, "The sun isn't back yet, but we can ask him when he gets in. I fear though that he will eat you up when he comes back all tired and smells a human being." "He won't eat me if you don't want him to," countered the girl. The old woman felt sorry for her and hid her. When the sun came home for dinner, exhausted from his long journey, he said to his mother the moment he sat down, "I smell human flesh. Bring me some of it to eat, because I'm terribly tired." The mother replied, "There is no human here, my lad. Who would possibly come to visit us?" "Oh yes there is," said the sun, "Bring me the human. I won't eat him, I'll just ask what he wants." The old woman made the sun promise not to eat the human, brought the girl out of hiding and took her to the sun. The girl said to the sun, "I'm looking for Swift, my husband. I've come to ask Your Majesty if you've seen him anywhere in the course of your travels." The sun replied, "No, I haven't seen him anywhere. But go and ask the moon if he's seen him at night." 
The poor girl continued on her way, wandering for many days and nights until she finally reached the moon. The moon could not tell her anything either and sent her on to the wind. Once again she set off, this time in search of the wind. By now she was exhausted from walking and, with the last ounce of her energy just managed to reach the house of the wind. There she met the wind's elderly mother and the little wind children who came blowing around to devour her. The old women stopped them, however, and invited the girl in. "Why have you come here, my daughter?" she asked. The girl told her the reason for her journey and where she had been. The wind's mother said, "We'll ask him. I'm afraid though that he'll eat you up on the spot when he comes back all tired and smells a human being." But the girl insisted once more, saying, "He won't eat me if you don't want him to." The old woman took pity on the girl and hid her.
When the wind came in for breakfast, he could smell human flesh right away and said to his mother, "I smell human flesh. Bring me some of it to eat, for I am very tired." The mother replied, "How could there possibly be any humans here?" But he insisted that his mother bring forth the human and finally promised, "I won't eat the human, mother, but bring him out so that I can ask him a few questions." The mother made the wind give his word of honour and brought the girl out. The wind asked her why she had gone to all the trouble she'd been through. "I am in search of Swift, my husband," said the girl, "It has been a long time since he disappeared and I haven't been able to find him." "Your husband is being held prisoner by a Kulshedra beyond the sea. He's a long, long way from here," said the wind. The girl implored him, "I must find him, no matter how far away he is. I beg Your Excellency to take me with you across the sea." The wind replied, "I would gladly take you with me, but I'm afraid you would fall off along the way, because I am very swift." "No, I won't fall off," she assured him. "Please take me with you."
The wind took pity on the girl and lifted her up on his back, saying, "Hold onto my hair and don't look down or you'll get dizzy." The wind gave out a strong gust and carried the girl across the sea, depositing her beside a spring. The poor girl had just sat down for a while to rest when suddenly a terrifying roar echoed from the mountains. A Kulshedra appeared at the spring and, catching sight of the girl, began to hop around on one leg, chanting, "First I had one, now I have two, my precious one." It seized the girl and took her to its home where Swift was being held prisoner. He recognized his wife at once, but didn't dare say anything because he was frightened of the Kulshedra. Making sure the Kulshedra would not notice, he threw his ring into a jug that the wife had to wash so that she would know he was there. And it worked. As she was washing the jug, the ring fell into her hands and she recognized it as her husband's. Later when they had an opportunity to see one another, he whispered to her, "Don't talk to me when the Kulshedra is present or it will devour us." 
The Kulshedra fed the two of them well so that it could devour them later, the wife first and then the husband. It had also overheard them talking. One day the Kulshedra said to the wife, "When I get back for dinner, my girl, I want to find the house swept in certain parts and unswept in others." As the poor wife was wondering what to do, her husband woke up and asked what she was thinking. She told him about the Kulshedra's orders and that she was wondering how to carry them out. The husband said, "Let me take care of things! Look for a bread crust and bring it here. Use it to sweep the floor and draw it behind you when you put it away. That way some parts of the house will be swept and others unswept." And so the wife did what her husband had suggested. When the Kulshedra came home that evening and asked the wife whether she had done her chores, she replied, "Yes, I've finished, mother." The Kulshedra looked around and saw that everything had been done exactly as it had wanted. "That wasn't your idea," shouted the monster. "It was your husband's!"
The next day the Kulshedra said to the young woman again, "When I get home this evening, daughter, I want to find two cauldrons of tears here and if I don't, I shall devour you." When the Kulshedra had left, the girl took out the two cauldrons, placed them in front of her and began to weep to fill them up. But in vain the cauldrons would not fill up. When her husband got up, he found his wife weeping and asked her what the matter was. She explained that the Kulshedra had demanded two cauldrons full of tears the night before and that otherwise she would be devoured. The husband said to her, "What a fool you are! Do you think you can fill these cauldrons with tears! Rest for a moment and let me handle this. Take the cauldrons and fill them with water, add a handful of salt and cover them up." The young woman did as her husband had said. 
When the Kulshedra got back that evening and asked whether she had done her chores, the woman replied, "I finished everything, mother." The Kulshedra went over and saw that the cauldrons were indeed full of tears. Tasting the liquid with the tip of its tongue, the Kulshedra realized that it was salty like tears, and said to the woman, "I know very well, daughter, that this wasn't your idea, but Swift's." Following this, the Kulshedra began to hate the young man and planned how it would eat him.
But the young man sensed the danger, so he put on some old clothes and went out to one of the Kulshedra's forests to chop wood. The Kulshedra searched through all its forests but could not find him. One day, however, the Kulshedra happened by while the young man was still chopping wood and, hearing the sound of the axe, shouted, "Who dares to chop wood in my forest?" He replied, "I am a poor man and am making a coffin for a young man who just died." The Kulshedra asked who the young man was. "A handsome lad whose name was Swift," the man replied. The Kulshedra was delighted when it heard that Swift had died, and said, "Oh, how happy I am!" It approached the coffin. The young man asked, "Did you know the lad?" "Yes," it replied. "Take courage then, Your Majesty," said the young man, "and climb in and see if I've done everything properly." "I'm so happy that he's dead," said the Kulshedra again, and climbed into the coffin. The young man shut the coffin right away, locked it and set it on fire. 
When he had made sure that the Kulshedra had been burned to ashes, he returned home and said to his wife, "The Kulshedra is gone forever. Pack your things and let us return home." So they gathered up all their things, went back home and lived happily ever after. The man who had once been a snake in the daytime and a human being at night was now a human being forever.
In the beginning, so the ancient stories say the land was dark. No light ever shone upon its surface, for Rangi, Master-of-the-Sky, hung low over Papa, the earth. In Papa’s garden, which was the land, no flowers grew nor trees; nothing but strange half-grown plants whose leaves were flattened as they pressed against great Rangi’s arms.For the sake of being together, Sky-father and Earth-mother forgot to care for the growth of flowers and trees, and even for the lives of their own children.In the low dark garden lived six sons, knowing nothing of the light, but wondering much what lay outside, and longing, as they grew  to stretch themselves and stand upright.Once Rangi lifted up his arms, and for a radiant moment the light streamed in.“Oh, what is that? ” the brothers asked.“It is nothing but the light,” said Rangi. He dropped his arms again and darkness fell.“But it was beautiful!” cried Tāne,the eldest of the brothers. “Lift your arms again, Rangi. Let us look at this wonderful thing you call light.”“No, no,” cried Rangi; “be contented as you are.” But the brothers were no longer contented. They began to make plans for letting in the light.“Our home would grow beautiful,” said Tāne, ” and besides, we could see to move about.”“If Rangi would but move and give us room we could stand upright,” said Tu, the next in age.“Let us ask him!” said the rest.They begged Rangi to give them light and room, but he would not move. “No,” he said, ” I am happy here. My place is near the Earth-mother.” Many times they asked, but each time he refused. The brothers grew angry.“Kill him,” said Tu, who was the fiercest.“Push him up,” said Tāne.“Leave him alone,” said Tawhiri.For a long time they argued. At last they decided that each brother should try to push him up out of the way.”I will try first,” said Rongo. He pushed with all his strength, but he could not move the great Rangi.  Haumia tried, and Tangaroa, and Tu, but none of them could move him.Now Tāne put forth all his strength. Pushing with both hands against Rangi’s mighty chest, he raised him slightly from his resting-place.“Ah, the Light! the Light! ” cried the brothers. “Push, Tāne, push harder yet.”Tāne pushed, using his feet for greater strength. The light streamed in. Higher and higher rose the helpless Sky-giant. The Earth-mother wept aloud as Rangi was torn from her. Tāne, resting a moment from his labours, heard an answering cry from above.“Cruel Tāne! You have left me on the mountain peaks. They are tearing my sides.”Tāne looked up. He had become a giant, had pushed Rangi to the mountain tops, and in his breathing space had left him there to rest upon their jagged peaks.Quick as thought, he ran across the land and up the mountain sides. Lifting Rangi off, he bound up his wounds; for Tāne was not really cruel. He was determined, however. When he returned to his brothers he said: “I shall send him so high that he can never come down again.”He stood on his head and hands. Bending his right knee, he kicked Rangi so far into the heavens that he has had to stay there ever since.“Now let us make the garden beautiful,” said Tāne.Tawhiri said, ” I shall not help you. I shall go to Rangi.” For Tawhiri was always jealous of his brothers. He went to Rangi, and lived with him in the sky. The others stayed with the Earth-mother, making her garden beautiful.Tāne said, ” I will make trees.” He made trees and bushes, flowers and moths and butterflies, and sweet singing birds. The sunshine fell warmly on the garden, and everything grew. Tāne was well pleased. Rongo made all the food-plants that grow in gardens; Haumia made wild food-plants ; Tangaroa filled the rivers and lakes and sea with fishes.“Earth-mother,” said Tāne, ” weep no more for Rangi. Be happy in your garden.”“I am pleased with your love for me, and all your kindness to me,” said the Earth-mother, “but I cannot cease weeping for Rangi. I think always how cold he must be in the sky, for he is not warmly clad.”“I will clothe him better,” said Tāne. He made a warm wide cloak of glowing red for Rangi. “I will fasten it with stars,” he said. “They are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.”He went to the Star-goblin. “Give me stars for Rangi’s cloak,” he begged.The Star-goblin said, “They lie on a mountain at the end of the sky. You must take a long and dangerous journey to reach them.”“I will go,” said Tāne.It was indeed a long and dangerous journey, but Tāne was not afraid. He strode gaily over the mountain tops and through the wild dark lands of night, coming at last to the mountain at the end of the sky. Here he found the gleaming stars piled above the precipices. He gathered a number of the largest and brightest, and took them back with him.He stood on the mountain peaks and set the stars in the cloak. But he found that in the sunshine they did not show. So he made a dark cloak for night-time, and placed them in that. There they shone brilliantly.The Earth-mother smiled, well pleased. Still, she was not quite happy about Rangi. She said, “I am afraid lest he should fall from that great height and be hurt.”“I can prevent that,” said Tane. He made soft cloud pillars. With these he propped up Rangi that he should not fall.So in his kindly way Tane did what he could for Rangi and the Earth-mother. But these two have never recovered from the sorrow of their parting. Often in the night Rangi’s tears fall upon the Earth-mother’s garden; men, seeing these tears, call them dew. He looks fondly down upon her from the sun and moon, which are his eyes; she sends up soft sighs of mist to tell him of her never-dying love. Yet they are not quite separated, for their hands, outstretched, touch each other on the low horizon.The brothers were at last happy. Only Tawhiri, still jealous, would not be at peace. He made the winds, setting them at opposite corners of his sky-home. One day he called them, together with all the storms and hurricanes, all the rain, hail, and black clouds of the sky. Sweeping down through the air with these terrible helpers, he fell upon Tāne’s beautiful trees, beating them to the ground.Tane was too late to save his trees, but he called to his brothers to warn them that Tawhiri had come. Rongo and Haumia, in their fear, changed themselves into roots and hid in the garden. Tangaroa changed himself into a fish and jumped into the sea. These brothers have lived in those places ever since.But Tu stood on high land, where Tawhiri’s floods could not reach him. There he waited for his jealous brother. When Tawhiri came, he fought him and beat him, and made him promise to stay quietly in his sky-home, leaving his brothers in peace. Tawhiri still sometimes sends his winds to tease his brothers, but he is too much afraid of Tu to work any serious mischief.Tāne re-planted his trees, and they grew into mighty forests. The garden grows more beautiful every day, for never again can the light be shut out.
In the far-off ages, all the lands of northern Europe were one, for the deep seas had not yet separated them. Then our forefathers thought that fairies were gods. They built temples in their honor, and prayed to them. Then, in the place where is now the little town of Ulrum in Friesland was the home of the spirit in the ice, Uller. That is what Ulrum means, the home of the good fairy Uller.Uller was the patron of boys and girls. They liked him, because he invented skates and sleds and sleighs. He had charge of things in winter and enjoyed the cold. He delighted also in hunting. Dressed in thick furs, he loved to roam over the hills and through the forests, seeking out the wolf, the bear, the deer, and the aurochs. His bow and arrows were terrible, for they were very big and he was a sure shot. Being the patron of archery, hunters always sought his favor. The yew tree was sacred to Uller, because the best bows were made from its wood. No one could cut down a yew tree without angering Uller.Nobody knew who Uller’s father was, and if he knew himself, he did not care to tell any one. He would not bestow many blessings upon mankind; yet thousands of people used to come to Ulrum every year to invoke his aid and ask him to send a heavy fall of snow to cover the ground. That meant good crops of food for the next year. The white snow, lying thick upon the ground, kept back the frost giants from biting the earth too hard. Because of deep winter snows, the ground was soft during the next summer. So the seed sprouted more easily and there was plenty to eat.When Uller travelled over the winter snow, to go out on hunting trips, he strapped snow-shoes on his feet. Because these were shaped like a warrior’s shield, Uller was often called the shield-god. His protection was especially invoked by men who fought duels with sword or spear, which were very common in early days; or by soldiers or hunters, who wished to be very brave, or had engaged in perilous ventures.Now when Uller wanted a wife to marry him, he made love to Skadi, because she was a huntress and liked the things which he liked. So they never had a quarrel. She was very strong, fond of sports, and of chasing the wild animals. She wore a short skirt, which allowed freedom of motion to her limbs. Then she ranged over the hills and valleys with wonderful swiftness. So rapid were her movements that many people likened her to the cold mountain stream, that leaps down from the high peaks and over the rocks, foaming and dashing to the lowlands. They gave the same name to both this fairy woman and the water, because they were so much alike.Indeed Skadi was very lovely to look at. It was no wonder that many of the gods, fairies and men fell in love with her. It is even said that she had had several husbands before marrying Uller. When you look at her pictures, you will see that she was as pretty as bright winter itself, when Jack Frost clothes the trees with white and makes the cheeks of the girls so rosy. She wore armor of shining steel, a silver helmet, short white skirts and white fur leggings. Her snow-shoes were of the hue of winter. Besides a glittering spear, she had a bow and sharp arrows. These were held in a silver quiver slung over her shoulders. Altogether, she looked like winter alive. She loved to live in the mountains, and hear the thunders of cataracts, the crash of avalanches, the moaning of the winds in the pine forests. Even the howling of wolves was music in her ears. She was afraid of nothing.Now from such a father and mother one would expect wonderful children, yet very much like their parents. It turned out that the offspring of Uller and Skadi were all daughters. To them—one after another—were given the names meaning Glacier, Cold, Snow, Drift, Snow Whirl, and Snow Dust, the oldest being the biggest and hardiest. The others were in degree softer and more easily influenced by the sun and the wind. They all looked alike, so that some people called them the Six White Sisters.Yet they were all so great and powerful that many considered them giantesses. It was not possible for men to tame them, for they did very much as they pleased. No one could stop their doings or drive them away, except Woden, who was the god of the sun. Yet in winter, even he left off ruling the world and went away. During that time, that is, during seven months, Uller took Woden’s throne and governed the affairs of the world. When summer came, Uller went with his wife up to the North Pole; or they lived in a house, on the top of the Alps. There they could hunt and roam on their snow-shoes. To these cold places, which the whole family enjoyed, their daughters went also and all were very happy so far above the earth.Things went on pleasantly in Uller’s family so long as his daughters were young, for then the girls found enough to delight in at their daily play. But when grown up and their heads began to be filled with notions about the young giants, who paid visits to them, then the family troubles began.At this, Uller was so angry at Vuur’s having delayed so long before popping the question, and at his daughters’ losing their shapes, that he made Vuur marry them all and at once, they taking the name of Regen.Now when the child of Vuur and Regen was born, it turned out to be, in body and in character, just what people expected from such a father and mother. It was named in Dutch, Stoom. It grew fast and soon showed that it was as powerful as its parents had been; yet it was much worse, when shut up, than when allowed to go free in the air. Stoom loved to do all sorts of tricks. In the kitchen, it would make the iron kettle lid flop up and down with a lively noise. If it were confined in a vessel, whether of iron or earthenware, when set over the fire, it would blow the pot or kettle all to pieces, in order to get out. Thinking itself a great singer, it would make rather a pleasant sound, when its mother let it come out of a spout. Yet it never obeyed either of its parents. When they tried to shut up Stoom inside of anything, it always escaped with a terrible sound. In fact, nothing could long hold it in, without an explosion.Sometimes Stoom would go down into the bowels of the earth and turn on a stream of water so as to meet the deep fires which are ever burning far down below us. Then there would come an awful earthquake, because Stoom wanted to get out, and the earth crust would not let him, but tried to hold him down. Sometimes Stoom slipped down into a volcano’s mouth. Then the mountain, in order to save itself from being choked, had to spit Stoom out, and this always made a terrible mess on the ground, and men called it lava. Or, Stoom might stay down in the crater as a guest, and quietly come out, occasionally, in jets and puffs.Even when Jack Frost was around and froze the pipes in the house, or turned the water of the pots, pans, kettles and bottles into solid ice, Stoom behaved very badly. If the frozen kettles, or any other closed vessel were put over the stove, or near the fire, and the ice melted at the bottom too fast, Stoom would blow the whole thing up. In this way, he often put men’s lives in danger and made them lose their property.No one seemed to know how to handle this mischievous fairy. Not one man on earth could do anything with him. So they let him have his own way. Yet all the time, though he was enjoying his own tricks and lively fun, he was, with his own voice, calling on human beings to use him properly, and harness him to wheels; for he was willing to be useful to them, and was all ready to pull or drive, lift or lower, grind or pump, as the need might be.As long as men did not treat him properly and give him the right to get out into the air, after he had done his work, Stoom would explode, blow up and destroy everything. He could be made to sing, hiss, squeal, whistle, and make all kinds of sounds, but, unless the bands that held him in were strong enough, or if Vuur got too hot, or his mother would not give him drink enough, when the iron pipes were red with heat, he would lose his temper and explode. He had no respect for bad or neglected boilers, or for lazy or careless firemen and engineers.Yet properly harnessed and treated well, and fed with the food such as his mother can give, and roused by his father’s persuasion, Stoom is greater than any giant or fairy that ever was. He can drive a ship, a locomotive, a submarine, or an aeroplane, as fast as Fro’s boar, horse or ship. Everybody to-day is glad that Stoom is such a good servant and friend all over the world.
Bunny Rabbit had been playing so many pranks on the other animals that the King of Beasts decided he would have to eat him up. So he told the Fox: “Go bring Bunny Rabbit to me, so I can eat him up and get him out of our way.”The Fox trotted off over the prairie and found Bunny Rabbit. “Come with me, Bunny Rabbit. The King of Beasts has sent for you.”“All right,” replied Bunny Rabbit, “but before we go, don’t you want some nice apples to eat? Right over there in that field there is a tree just full of apples. You go over and get some and I’ll wait here for you.”Apples sounded very good to the Fox, so he left Bunny Rabbit and went to find the tree. Bunny Rabbit ran away. The Fox found the apples so delicious that he stayed under the tree all night eating them. Next morning he had such a pain in his stomach that he lay on the ground and rolled over and over, moaning and groaning.When the Fox did not come back with the rabbit, the King of Beasts called the coyote: “Coyote, go find the Fox and see why he hasn’t brought the rabbit to me.”So the Coyote set out to find the Fox. He found him groaning under the apple tree.“Where is Bunny Rabbit? Why haven’t you taken him to the King of Beasts?”“I swallowed him,” said the Fox, “to keep him from getting away and he is kicking around in my stomach so hard to get out that I have a dreadful pain. I cannot walk. Please go over on the other side of that hill and bring me some of the herbs growing there. They are good medicine and will make me feel better. Then we can take the rabbit to the King of Beasts.”Coyote ran over the hill to get the herbs. He bit off a mouth full of herbs to take to the Fox. They tasted so good that he kept eating and eating them. He stayed there all night eating the herbs.Next day the King of Beasts called the piñon jay bird: “Go, find the Coyote and the Fox and see why they haven’t brought the rabbit to me.”The piñon Jay flew away over the prairie. He found Bunny Rabbit. He did not wait to find the Coyote and the Fox. He just flew away with Bunny Rabbit to the King of Beasts.The King of Beasts showed his sharp teeth and licked out his long tongue; “Well, Bunny Rabbit, I have you at last. You have been annoying the other animals so much with your pranks that I am going to eat you up!”“I am very tired, King of Beasts, I shall be glad to be eaten up; but wouldn’t you like some fat little prairie dogs to eat first? I know where there are lots of fat ones. I will show you.”Now Bunny Rabbit knew where a hunter had set a trap in the woods, so he led the King of Beasts right into the trap. The trap caught the King of Beasts’ foot and held him tight for the hunter. Bunny Rabbit ran away calling, “I hope you will enjoy the prairie dogs, King of Beasts.”Note: Taos Pueblo
This, O Best Beloved, is another story of the High and Far-Off Times. In the very middle of those times was a Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, eating shelly snails and things. And he had a friend, a Slow-Solid Tortoise, who lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, eating green lettuces and things. And so that was all right, Best Beloved. Do you see?But also, and at the same time, in those High and Far-Off Times, there was a Painted Jaguar, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon too; and he ate everything that he could catch. When he could not catch deer or monkeys he would eat frogs and beetles; and when he could not catch frogs and beetles he went to his Mother Jaguar, and she told him how to eat hedgehogs and tortoises.She said to him ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘My son, when you find a Hedgehog you must drop him into the water and then he will uncoil, and when you catch a Tortoise you must scoop him out of his shell with your paw.’ And so that was all right, Best Beloved.One beautiful night on the banks of the turbid Amazon, Painted Jaguar found Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog and Slow-Solid Tortoise sitting under the trunk of a fallen tree. They could not run away, and so Stickly-Prickly curled himself up into a ball, because he was a Hedgehog, and Slow-Solid Tortoise drew in his head and feet into his shell as far as they would go, because he was a Tortoise; and so that was all right, Best Beloved. Do you see?‘Now attend to me,’ said Painted Jaguar, ‘because this is very important. My mother said that when I meet a Hedgehog I am to drop him into the water and then he will uncoil, and when I meet a Tortoise I am to scoop him out of his shell with my paw. Now which of you is Hedgehog and which is Tortoise? because, to save my spots, I can’t tell.’‘Are you sure of what your Mummy told you?’ said Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog. ‘Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you uncoil a Tortoise you must shell him out the water with a scoop, and when you paw a Hedgehog you must drop him on the shell.’‘Are you sure of what your Mummy told you?’ said Slow-and-Solid Tortoise. ‘Are you quite sure? Perhaps she said that when you water a Hedgehog you must drop him into your paw, and when you meet a Tortoise you must shell him till he uncoils.’‘I don’t think it was at all like that,’ said Painted Jaguar, but he felt a little puzzled; ‘but, please, say it again more distinctly.’‘When you scoop water with your paw you uncoil it with a Hedgehog,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘Remember that, because it’s important.’‘But,’ said the Tortoise, ‘when you paw your meat you drop it into a Tortoise with a scoop. Why can’t you understand?’‘You are making my spots ache,’ said Painted Jaguar; ‘and besides, I didn’t want your advice at all. I only wanted to know which of you is Hedgehog and which is Tortoise.’‘I shan’t tell you,’ said Stickly-Prickly, ‘but you can scoop me out of my shell if you like.’‘Aha!’ said Painted Jaguar. ‘Now I know you’re Tortoise. You thought I wouldn’t! Now I will.’ Painted Jaguar darted out his paddy-paw just as Stickly-Prickly curled himself up, and of course Jaguar’s paddy-paw was just filled with prickles. Worse than that, he knocked Stickly-Prickly away and away into the woods and the bushes, where it was too dark to find him. Then he put his paddy-paw into his mouth, and of course the prickles hurt him worse than ever. As soon as he could speak he said, ‘Now I know he isn’t Tortoise at all. But’—and then he scratched his head with his un-prickly paw—‘how do I know that this other is Tortoise?’‘But I am Tortoise,’ said Slow-and-Solid. Your mother was quite right. She said that you were to scoop me out of my shell with your paw. Begin.’‘You didn’t say she said that a minute ago, said Painted Jaguar, sucking the prickles out of his paddy-paw. ‘You said she said something quite different.’‘Well, suppose you say that I said that she said something quite different, I don’t see that it makes any difference; because if she said what you said I said she said, it’s just the same as if I said what she said she said. On the other hand, if you think she said that you were to uncoil me with a scoop, instead of pawing me into drops with a shell, I can’t help that, can I?’‘But you said you wanted to be scooped out of your shell with my paw,’ said Painted Jaguar.‘If you’ll think again you’ll find that I didn’t say anything of the kind. I said that your mother said that you were to scoop me out of my shell,’ said Slow-and-Solid.‘What will happen if I do?’ said the Jaguar most sniffily and most cautious.‘I don’t know, because I’ve never been scooped out of my shell before; but I tell you truly, if you want to see me swim away you’ve only got to drop me into the water.‘I don’t believe it,’ said Painted Jaguar. ‘You’ve mixed up all the things my mother told me to do with the things that you asked me whether I was sure that she didn’t say, till I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my painted tail; and now you come and tell me something I can understand, and it makes me more mixy than before. My mother told me that I was to drop one of you two into the water, and as you seem so anxious to be dropped I think you don’t want to be dropped. So jump into the turbid Amazon and be quick about it.’‘I warn you that your Mummy won’t be pleased. Don’t tell her I didn’t tell you,’ said Slow-Solid.‘If you say another word about what my mother said—’ the Jaguar answered, but he had not finished the sentence before Slow-and-Solid quietly dived into the turbid Amazon, swam under water for a long way, and came out on the bank where Stickly-Prickly was waiting for him.‘That was a very narrow escape,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘I don’t rib Painted Jaguar. What did you tell him that you were?’‘I told him truthfully that I was a truthful Tortoise, but he wouldn’t believe it, and he made me jump into the river to see if I was, and I was, and he is surprised. Now he’s gone to tell his Mummy. Listen to him!’They could hear Painted Jaguar roaring up and down among the trees and the bushes by the side of the turbid Amazon, till his Mummy came.‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘what have you been doing that you shouldn’t have done?’‘I tried to scoop something that said it wanted to be scooped out of its shell with my paw, and my paw is full of per-ickles,’ said Painted Jaguar.‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘by the prickles in your paddy-paw I see that that must have been a Hedgehog. You should have dropped him into the water.‘I did that to the other thing; and he said he was a Tortoise, and I didn’t believe him, and it was quite true, and he has dived under the turbid Amazon, and he won’t come up again, and I haven’t anything at all to eat, and I think we had better find lodgings somewhere else. They are too clever on the turbid Amazon for poor me!’‘Son, son!’ said his mother ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘now attend to me and remember what I say. A Hedgehog curls himself up into a ball and his prickles stick out every which way at once. By this you may know the Hedgehog.’‘I don’t like this old lady one little bit,’ said Stickly-Prickly, under the shadow of a large leaf. ‘I wonder what else she knows?’‘A Tortoise can’t curl himself up,’ Mother Jaguar went on, ever so many times, graciously waving her tail. ‘He only draws his head and legs into his shell. By this you may know the tortoise.’‘I don’t like this old lady at all—at all,’ said Slow-and-Solid Tortoise. ‘Even Painted Jaguar can’t forget those directions. It’s a great pity that you can’t swim, Stickly-Prickly.’‘Don’t talk to me,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘Just think how much better it would be if you could curl up. This is a mess! Listen to Painted Jaguar.’Painted Jaguar was sitting on the banks of the turbid Amazon sucking prickles out of his Paws and saying to himself—‘Can’t curl, but can swim—Slow-Solid, that’s him!Curls up, but can’t swim—Stickly-Prickly, that’s him!’‘He’ll never forget that this month of Sundays,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘Hold up my chin, Slow-and-Solid. I’m going to try to learn to swim. It may be useful.’‘Excellent!’ said Slow-and-Solid; and he held up Stickly-Prickly’s chin, while Stickly-Prickly kicked in the waters of the turbid Amazon.‘You’ll make a fine swimmer yet,’ said Slow-and-Solid. ‘Now, if you can unlace my back-plates a little, I’ll see what I can do towards curling up. It may be useful.’Stickly-Prickly helped to unlace Tortoise’s back-plates, so that by twisting and straining Slow-and-Solid actually managed to curl up a tiddy wee bit.‘Excellent!’ said Stickly-Prickly; ‘but I shouldn’t do any more just now. It’s making you black in the face. Kindly lead me into the water once again and I’ll practice that side-stroke which you say is so easy.’ And so Stickly-Prickly practiced, and Slow-Solid swam alongside.‘Excellent!’ said Slow-and-Solid. ‘A little more practice will make you a regular whale. Now, if I may trouble you to unlace my back and front plates two holes more, I’ll try that fascinating bend that you say is so easy. Won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised!’‘Excellent!’ said Stickly-Prickly, all wet from the turbid Amazon. ‘I declare, I shouldn’t know you from one of my own family. Two holes, I think, you said? A little more expression, please, and don’t grunt quite so much, or Painted Jaguar may hear us. When you’ve finished, I want to try that long dive which you say is so easy. Won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised!’And so Stickly-Prickly dived, and Slow-and-Solid dived alongside.‘Excellent!’ said Slow-and-Solid. ‘A leetle more attention to holding your breath and you will be able to keep house at the bottom of the turbid Amazon. Now I’ll try that exercise of putting my hind legs round my ears which you say is so peculiarly comfortable. Won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised!’‘Excellent!’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘But it’s straining your back-plates a little. They are all overlapping now, instead of lying side by side.’‘Oh, that’s the result of exercise,’ said Slow-and-Solid. ‘I’ve noticed that your prickles seem to be melting into one another, and that you’re growing to look rather more like a pinecone, and less like a chestnut-burr, than you used to.’‘Am I?’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘That comes from my soaking in the water. Oh, won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised!’They went on with their exercises, each helping the other, till morning came; and when the sun was high they rested and dried themselves. Then they saw that they were both of them quite different from what they had been.‘Stickly-Prickly,’ said Tortoise after breakfast, ‘I am not what I was yesterday; but I think that I may yet amuse Painted Jaguar.‘That was the very thing I was thinking just now,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘I think scales are a tremendous improvement on prickles—to say nothing of being able to swim. Oh, won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised! Let’s go and find him.’By and by they found Painted Jaguar, still nursing his paddy-paw that had been hurt the night before. He was so astonished that he fell three times backward over his own painted tail without stopping.‘Good morning!’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘And how is your dear gracious Mummy this morning?’‘She is quite well, thank you,’ said Painted Jaguar; ‘but you must forgive me if I do not at this precise moment recall your name.’‘That’s unkind of you,’ said Stickly-Prickly, ‘seeing that this time yesterday you tried to scoop me out of my shell with your paw.’‘But you hadn’t any shell. It was all prickles,’ said Painted Jaguar. ‘I know it was. Just look at my paw!’‘You told me to drop into the turbid Amazon and be drowned,’ said Slow-Solid. ‘Why are you so rude and forgetful to-day?’‘Don’t you remember what your mother told you?’ said Stickly-Prickly,—‘Can’t curl, but can swim—Stickly-Prickly, that’s him!Curls up, but can’t swim—Slow-Solid, that’s him!’Then they both curled themselves up and rolled round and round Painted Jaguar till his eyes turned truly cart-wheels in his head.Then he went to fetch his mother.‘Mother,’ he said, ‘there are two new animals in the woods to-day, and the one that you said couldn’t swim, swims, and the one that you said couldn’t curl up, curls; and they’ve gone shares in their prickles, I think, because both of them are scaly all over, instead of one being smooth and the other very prickly; and, besides that, they are rolling round and round in circles, and I don’t feel comfy.’‘Son, son!’ said Mother Jaguar ever so many times, graciously waving her tail, ‘a Hedgehog is a Hedgehog, and can’t be anything but a Hedgehog; and a Tortoise is a Tortoise, and can never be anything else.’‘But it isn’t a Hedgehog, and it isn’t a Tortoise. It’s a little bit of both, and I don’t know its proper name.’‘Nonsense!’ said Mother Jaguar. ‘Everything has its proper name. I should call it “Armadillo” till I found out the real one. And I should leave it alone.’So Painted Jaguar did as he was told, especially about leaving them alone; but the curious thing is that from that day to this, O Best Beloved, no one on the banks of the turbid Amazon has ever called Stickly-Prickly and Slow-Solid anything except Armadillo. There are Hedgehogs and Tortoises in other places, of course (there are some in my garden); but the real old and clever kind, with their scales lying lippety-lappety one over the other, like pine-cone scales, that lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon in the High and Far-Off Days, are always called Armadillos, because they were so clever.So that; all right, Best Beloved. Do you see?I’VE never sailed the Amazon,I’ve never reached Brazil;But the Don and Magdelana,They can go there when they will!Yes, weekly from Southampton,Great steamers, white and gold,Go rolling down to Rio(Roll down—roll down to Rio!)And I’d like to roll to RioSome day before I’m old!I’ve never seen a Jaguar,Nor yet an ArmadillO dilloing in his armour,And I s’pose I never will,Unless I go to RioThese wonders to behold—Roll down—roll down to Rio—Roll really down to Rio!Oh, I’d love to roll to RioSome day before I’m old!
At the bidding of Jupiter, Prometheus set about the creation of Man and the other animals. Jupiter, seeing that Mankind, the only rational creatures, were far outnumbered by the irrational beasts, bade him redress the balance by turning some of the latter into men. Prometheus did as he was bidden, and this is the reason why some people have the forms of men but the souls of beasts.
It is so delightfully cold that it makes my whole body crackle,” said the Snow Man. “This is just the kind of wind to blow life into one. How that great red thing up there is staring at me!” He meant the sun, which was just setting. “It shall not make me wink. I shall manage to keep the pieces.”He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead of eyes, and his mouth, being made of an old broken rake, was therefore furnished with teeth. He had been brought into existence amid the joyous shouts of boys, the jingling of sleigh bells, and the slashing of whips.The sun went down, and the full moon rose, large, round, and clear, shining in the deep blue.“There it comes again, from the other side,” said the Snow Man, who supposed the sun was showing itself once more. “Ah, I have cured it of staring. Now it may hang up there and shine, so that I may see myself. If I only knew how to manage to move away from this place—I should so like to move! If I could, I would slide along yonder on the ice, as I have seen the boys do; but I don’t understand how. I don’t even know how to run.”“Away, away!” barked the old yard dog. He was quite hoarse and could not pronounce “Bow-wow” properly. He had once been an indoor dog and lain by the fire, and he had been hoarse ever since. “The sun will make you run some day. I saw it, last winter, make your predecessor run, and his predecessor before him. Away, away! They all have to go.”“I don’t understand you, comrade,” said the Snow Man. “Is that thing up yonder to teach me to run? I saw it running itself, a little while ago, and now it has come creeping up from the other side.”“You know nothing at all,” replied the yard dog. “But then, you’ve only lately been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and what you saw before was the sun. It will come again to-morrow and most likely teach you to run down into the ditch by the well, for I think the weather is going to change. I can feel such pricks and stabs in my left leg that I am sure there is going to be a change.”“I don’t understand him,” said the Snow Man to himself, “but I have a feeling that he is talking of something very disagreeable. The thing that stared so hard just now, which he calls the sun, is not my friend; I can feel that too.”“Away, away!” barked the yard dog, and then he turned round three times and crept into his kennel to sleep.There really was a change in the weather. Toward morning a thick fog covered the whole country and a keen wind arose, so that the cold seemed to freeze one’s bones. But when the sun rose, a splendid sight was to be seen. Trees and bushes were covered with hoarfrost and looked like a forest of white coral, while on every twig glittered frozen dewdrops. The many delicate forms, concealed in summer by luxuriant foliage, were now clearly defined and looked like glittering lacework. A white radiance glistened from every twig. The birches, waving in the wind, looked as full of life as in summer and as wondrously beautiful. Where the sun shone, everything glittered and sparkled as if diamond dust had been strewn about; and the snowy carpet of the earth seemed covered with diamonds from which gleamed countless lights, whiter even than the snow itself.“This is really beautiful,” said a girl who had come into the garden with a young friend; and they both stood still near the Snow Man, contemplating the glittering scene. “Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight,” she exclaimed, while her eyes sparkled.“And we can’t have such a fellow as this in the summer-time,” replied the young man, pointing to the Snow Man. “He is capital.”The girl laughed and nodded at the Snow Man, then tripped away over the snow with her friend. The snow creaked and crackled beneath her feet, as if she had been treading on starch.“Who are those two?” asked the Snow Man of the yard dog. “You have been here longer than I; do you know them?”“Of course I know them,” replied the yard dog; “the girl has stroked my back many times, and the young man has often given me a bone of meat. I never bite those two.”“But what are they?” asked the Snow Man.“They are lovers,” he replied. “They will go and live in the same kennel, by and by, and gnaw at the same bone. Away, away!”“Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?” asked the Snow Man.“Well, they belong to the master,” retorted the yard dog. “Certainly people know very little who were only born yesterday. I can see that in you. I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away, away!”“The cold is delightful,” said the Snow Man. “But do tell me, tell me; only you must not clank your chain so, for it jars within me when you do that.”“Away, away!” barked the yard dog. “I’ll tell you: they said I was a pretty little fellow, once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, up at the master’s house, and sit in the mistress’s lap; they used to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called ‘Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.’ But after a while I grew too big for them, and they sent me away to the housekeeper’s room; so I came to live on the lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see where I was once master—for I was, indeed, master to the housekeeper. It was a much smaller room than those upstairs, but I was more comfortable, for I was not continually being taken hold of and pulled about by the children, as I had been. I received quite as good food and even better. I had my own cushion, and there was a stove—it is the finest thing in the world at this season of the year. I used to go under the stove and lie down. Ah, I still dream of that stove. Away, away!”“Does a stove look beautiful?” asked the Snow Man. “Is it at all like me?”“It is just the opposite of you,” said the dog. “It’s as black as a crow and has a long neck and a brass knob; it eats firewood, and that makes fire spurt out of its mouth. One has to keep on one side or under it, to be comfortable. You can see it through the window from where you stand.”Then the Snow Man looked, and saw a bright polished thing with a brass knob, and fire gleaming from the lower part of it. The sight of this gave the Snow Man a strange sensation; it was very odd, he knew not what it meant, and he could not account for it. But there are people who are not men of snow who understand what the feeling is. “And why did you leave her?” asked the Snow Man, for it seemed to him that the stove must be of the female sex. “How could you give up such a comfortable place?”“I was obliged to,” replied the yard dog. “They turned me out of doors and chained me up here. I had bitten the youngest of my master’s sons in the leg, because he kicked away the bone I was gnawing. ‘Bone for bone,’ I thought. But they were very angry, and since that time I have been fastened to a chain and have lost my voice. Don’t you hear how hoarse I am? Away, away! I can’t talk like other dogs any more. Away, away! That was the end of it all.”But the Snow Man was no longer listening. He was looking into the housekeeper’s room on the lower story, where the stove, which was about the same size as the Snow Man himself, stood on its four iron legs. “What a strange crackling I feel within me,” he said. “Shall I ever get in there? It is an innocent wish, and innocent wishes are sure to be fulfilled. I must go in there and lean against her, even if I have to break the window.”“You must never go in there,” said the yard dog, “for if you approach the stove, you will melt away, away.”“I might as well go,” said the Snow Man, “for I think I am breaking up as it is.”During the whole day the Snow Man stood looking in through the window, and in the twilight hour the room became still more inviting, for from the stove came a gentle glow, not like the sun or the moon; it was only the kind of radiance that can come from a stove when it has been well fed. When the door of the stove was opened, the flames darted out of its mouth,—as is customary with all stoves,—and the light of the flames fell with a ruddy gleam directly on the face and breast of the Snow Man. “I can endure it no longer,” said he. “How beautiful it looks when it stretches out its tongue!”The night was long, but it did not appear so to the Snow Man, who stood there enjoying his own reflections and crackling with the cold. In the morning the window-panes of the housekeeper’s room were covered with ice. They were the most beautiful ice flowers any Snow Man could desire, but they concealed the stove. These window-panes would not thaw, and he could see nothing of the stove, which he pictured to himself as if it had been a beautiful human being. The snow crackled and the wind whistled around him; it was just the kind of frosty weather a Snow Man ought to enjoy thoroughly. But he did not enjoy it. How, indeed, could he enjoy anything when he was so stove-sick?“That is a terrible disease for a Snow Man to have,” said the yard dog. “I have suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away, away!” he barked, and then added, “The weather is going to change.”The weather did change. It began to thaw, and as the warmth increased, the Snow Man decreased. He said nothing and made no complaint, which is a sure sign.One morning he broke and sank down altogether; and behold! where he had stood, something that looked like a broomstick remained sticking up in the ground. It was the pole round which the boys had built him.“Ah, now I understand why he had such a great longing for the stove,” said the yard dog. “Why, there’s the shovel that is used for cleaning out the stove, fastened to the pole. The Snow Man had a stove scraper in his body; that was what moved him so. But it is all over now. Away, away!”And soon the winter passed. “Away, away!” barked the hoarse yard dog, but the girls in the house sang:“Come from your fragrant home, green thyme;Stretch your soft branches, willow tree;The months are bringing the sweet spring-time,When the lark in the sky sings joyfully.Come, gentle sun, while the cuckoo sings,And I’ll mock his note in my wanderings.”And nobody thought any more of the Snow Man.
Once upon a time in the town of Vañjaimânagar (an ancient Indian town), there ruled a king, named Śivâchâr. He was a most just king, and ruled so well that no stone thrown up fell down, no crow pecked at the new drawn milk, the lion and the bull drank water from the same pond, and peace and prosperity reigned throughout the kingdom. Notwithstanding all these blessings, care always sat on his face. The fruit which makes life in this world sweet, the redeemer to him from the horrible Naraka of Put(Hell), a Putra, he had not. His days and nights he spent in praying that God might bless him with a son. Wherever he saw pîpal trees (Aśvattharâjas – Ficus religiosa), he ordered Brâhmaṇs to surround them. Whatever medicines the doctors recommended he was ever ready to swallow, however bitter they might be. “Eat even dung to get a son,” says the proverb, and accordingly he did every thing to secure that happiness, but all in vain.Śivâchâr had a minister, named Kharavadana, a most wicked tyrant as ever lived in the world. The thought that the king was without an heir, and had no hopes of one, awakened in his mind the ambition of securing for his family the throne of Vañjaimânagar. Śivâchâr knew this well. But what could he do. His only care was to send up additional prayers to frustrate the thoughts of Kharavadana, and to secure for himself a good position after death, without undergoing the severe torments of the Put-hell.At last fortune favoured Śivâchâr; for what religious man fails to secure his desire? The king in his sixtieth year had a son. His joy can better be imagined than described. Lacs (Lâkhs) of Brâhmaṇs were fed in honour of the son-birth festival, Putrôtsavam, as it is technically called. The state prisons were opened, and all the prisoners let loose. Thousands of kine and innumerable acres of land were offered to Brâhmaṇs, and every kind of charity was duly practised. The ten days of the Sûtikâgṛihavâsa (confinement) were over. On the eleventh day the father saw his much longed-for son’s face, and read on the lines of it great prosperity, learning, valour, goodness and every excellent quality.The cradle-swinging, naming, and other ceremonies were duly performed, and the prince grew up under the great care generally shown to a king’s son. His name the elders fixed as Sundara(the fair). The minister whose only wish was to get the throne for his family, was much disappointed at the birth of a son to his master. The whole kingdom rejoiced at the event, and the minister was the only man who was sorry. When one is disappointed in his high hopes and expectations, he devises plans to take away the barrier that lies in his way. Even so, Kharavadana said to himself, “Let me see how affairs progress. The old king is near his grave. When he dies, leaving a son in his minority I myself must be his regent for a time. Shall I not then have opportunity enough of securing for ever for myself and my family the throne of Vañjaimânagar?” So thought he within himself, and was quiet for a time.Śivâchâr, who was a very shrewd man, on several occasions, read the minister’s mind, and knew very well how his intentions stood. “This cruel devil may murder my only son. I care not if he usurps the throne. What I fear is, that he may murder him. Na daivam Śaṅkarât param. No other god but Śaṅkara. And he must have his own way. If it is so written on the prince’s head I cannot avoid it.” Thus sighed Śivâchâr, and this sorrow (śôka), made him leaner day by day. Just ten years after the birth of Sundara, the king fell ill and lay on his deathbed.Śivâchâr breathed his last. After the usual weeping and wailing of a Hindû funeral, his corpse was burnt to ashes in a sandalwood pyre. All his queens—and there were several scores—committed satî with the corpse. The ceremonies were all regularly conducted, the minister himself superintended everything.Kharavadana then succeeded to the throne of Vañjaimânagar. Raṇavîrasiṅg became the lord of the palace, and true to his promise exercised all care over his trust. He was always at the side of Sundara. That he might not lose the sweetness of boyhood in study and play, Raṇavîrasiṅg brought to the palace twenty gentlemen’s sons of good conduct and learning and made them the prince’s fellow-students. A professor for every branch of learning was employed to teach the prince and his companions. Sundara thus received a sound and liberal education, only he was never allowed to go out of the palace. Raṇavîrasiṅg guarded him very strictly, and he had every reason to do so. For Kharavadana, as soon as he became king, had issued a notice that the assassin of Sundara should have a reward of a karôr mohurs(ten gold coins); and already every avaricious hand was in search of his head. Before the issue of this notice, Kharavadana found out a good girl and married her to the prince. She lived with her husband in the palace, and Raṇavîrasiṅg strictly watched her, as she had been chosen by the minister. He would not allow Sundara to speak to her. These strict prohibitions displeased the prince, even with his faithful servant. But the latter could not help it till he had full confidence in her. He used to advise Sundara not even to take a betel-leaf from her hands. But love is blind. So the prince within himself accused his old guardian; but he could not help following his orders. Thus passed on a few years.Sundara reached his sixteenth year. Nothing happened about the transference of the kingdom; the prince, almost in imprisonment in the palace, had forgotten everything about the kingdom. Raṇavîrasiṅg wished to wait till, as he thought, the prince had acquired better governing faculties. Thus some time passed.Full eight years had elapsed from the death of Śivâchâr. Sundara was already eighteen, and still he had not received his kingdom. Nothing was neglected in his education. Though Raṇavîrasiṅg exercised all paternal care over him, still it was not to his liking; for he found in him a great barrier to the pleasures of youth. The only pleasure for the prince, therefore, was the company of his friends.One fine evening on the fourteenth day of the dark half of the month of Vaiśâkha of the Vasanta(Spring) season, the prince was sitting with his companions in the seventh story of his mansion viewing the town. The dusk of evening was just throwing her mantle over the city. People in their several vocations were at that time ceasing work, and returning home. In the eastern division of the town the prince saw a big mansion, and just to break the silence asked his friends what that was. “That is the Râjasthânik Kachêri(the king’s court), a place you ought to have been sitting in for the last two years. The wretched minister, Kharavadana, has already usurped your seat; for, if he had intended to give you back the kingdom he would have done it two years ago when you reached your sixteenth year. Let us now console ourselves that God has spared your life till now, notwithstanding all the awards promised to the taker of your head. Even the proclamation is dying out of the memory of the people now.” So said one of his friends and ceased.These words fell like arrows in the ear of Sundara and troubled him. Shame that he had been thus treated brought a change of colour over his face which all his friends perceived, and they felt sorry for having touched upon the subject. The prince, perceiving that he had played a woman’s part among his friends, resumed or pretended to resume his former cheerful countenance, and changed the conversation to some pleasanter topics. They separated very late that night. Before doing so, Sundara asked them all to present themselves in the durbâr hall(Council chamber) early next morning. At the same time he also ordered Raṇavîrasiṅg to keep horses ready for himself and his friends for a morning ride through the town the next day. “I was only waiting to hear such an order from your own mouth, Mai Bâb Chakravarti(My darling prince)! I was thinking from your retired disposition that you were not an energetic man. I will have the horses ready.” Raṇavîrasiṅg at once issued orders to his servants to keep ready saddled and decked twenty-one horses for the prince and his companions. He also appointed a certain number of his men to ride in front of the party.The morning came. The friends assembled, as promised the previous evening. The prince and they, after a light breakfast, mounted their horses. The horsemen rode in front and behind. The prince with his friends marched in the middle. Raṇavîrasiṅg with drawn sword rode by his side. The party went through the four main streets of the town. Every one rose up and paid due respect to their old king’s son. When passing through the street where the minister’s mansion was, Raṇavîrasiṅg perceived that Kharavadana paid no respect to the royal march. This seemed a most unbearable insult to Raṇavîrasiṅg. He bit his lips, gnashed his teeth, and wrung his hands. The prince observed all the mental pains of his faithful guardian, and laughed to himself at his simplicity. About mid-day the party returned to the palace. The friends dispersed, and Sundara after the ceremonies of the new-moon day had a slight dinner, and retired to rest.The morning ride was deep in the mind of the prince. Though he laughed to himself at the simplicity of Raṇavîrasiṅg when the latter gnashed his teeth in the morning, the insult had left a stronger and deeper impression in his heart. The day was almost spent. Sundara took a very light supper, and shut himself up in his bed-room before the first watch was quite over. Raṇavîrasiṅg, as usual, watched outside. The prince found his wife sound asleep in her bed, and without disturbing her he went up and down the room. A thread-like substance attracted his attention in a corner of the bed-chamber. On examination he found it to be a thread ladder. He had not even time to think how it came into the bed-chamber. Just then Raṇavîrasiṅg had retired for a few minutes to take his supper. “The old fool is off now to eat; and Paramêśvara has thrown this ladder in my way. Let me now escape.” Thus thinking, Sundara came out unobserved by his old guardian, and ascended to the top of the seventh mansion. From that place he cast his ladder towards a big tree in the East Main street. On pulling it he found that it was firmly fixed. “Let me get down, and Paramêśvara will assist me.” So praying, before the first watch was over, the prince got down from his palace, and was in a few minutes in the East street. The severe watch kept over him by Raṇavîrasiṅg made it very difficult for him to go out when he liked, and now by the grace of God, as he thought, he had escaped that dark new-moon night.“Life is dear to every one. What can I do if any of the minister’s men find me out now and murder me? Na daivam Śaṅkarât param. No god but Śaṅkara, and he will now help me.” Thus thinking he walked to the nearest pyal, and lingered there till the bustle of the town subsided. Nor was it in vain that he stopped there. He overheard while there the following conversation take place between the master and mistress of the house at which he lingered:—“Console yourself, my wife. What shall we do? Fate has so willed it on our heads. May Brahmâ(the creator of the Hindu mythology) become without a temple for the evil that he has sent us. When the old king was living he appreciated my merits, and at every Saṅkrânti(a Hindû feast) gave me due dakshiṇâ(a fee) for my knowledge of the Vêdas(The sacred books of the Hindûs). Now there reigns a tyrant over our kingdom. I have been lingering here with the hope that the son of Śivâchâr would one day come to the throne and relieve our sufferings. Now that such hope is altogether gone, I have made up my mind to leave this nasty city, and go to some good place where there reigns a king who can appreciate our yôgyatâ (merit).” Of these words Sundara overheard every syllable, and these supplied the fuel to the fire of shame and anger that was already burning in his mind. “Let me try to win back my kingdom. If I succeed, I shall save other lives. If I die, I alone die. May Paramêśvara help me.” So saying he walked out of the town, and passed the east gate. The night was as dark as could be, for it was a new moon night. Clouds were gathering in the sky, and there were some symptoms of rain.There was a Gaṇêśa temple on the way. As it was already drizzling, the prince went inside till the rain should cease. No sooner had he entered it than he saw two men, who by their conversation appeared to be shepherds, coming towards that same temple. They seemed to have been watching their flocks near an adjacent field, and had come to shelter themselves from the rain in the temple. Sundara when he saw them, trembled for his life, and crept in. The shepherds sat down on the verandah, and taking out their bags began to chew betel-nuts. An idle lizard began to chirp in a corner. To break the silence, one said to the other, “Well, Râmakôn, I have heard that you are a great soothsayer and interpreter of bird sounds and lizard speeches. Let me know what these chirps of the lizard that we heard just now mean. Tell me.” Râmakôn replied, “This is news which I would never have revealed at any other time. But as no fourth person is likely to be here at this time on a rainy night, let me tell you that the prince of the town is now lingering here in this temple. So the lizard says. Hence I said, ‘no fourth person.’ I am glad that no evil hand has yet been tempted, though such a high price has been set upon his head. The very fact that he has lived up to this time unhurt in a tiger’s domain augurs well for his future prosperity.” Râmakôn had scarcely finished his speech when the idle lizard again made its chit, chit, and Râmakôn now asked his friend, Lakshmaṇakôn, for that was the other’s name, to interpret those sounds. “This has rather a sad meaning for the prince. The Mantrî(Minister) and Pradhânî(Vice minister) are coming here in a few minutes (nimishas), to consult on a secret topic. So says the lizard,” said Lakshmaṇakôn to Râmakôn, and at that very moment a light was seen at a distance. “It is the minister’s carriage. Let us be off. God only must save the prince.” So saying, they both ran away.The feelings of the prince inside were like that of a man who was being led to the gallows. The bitterest enemy of his life, the minister himself, was coming to that very place where he was hiding. “I foolishly accused my old guardian, Raṇavîrasiṅg, and now I see his good intentions. How I am to be spared from this calamity Śaṅkara only knows.” Thus thinking, he hurriedly fled to the inmost part of the temple behind the very image, and sat down there, still like a stump, without even breathing freely, lest his breath might reveal him. He had ample time there to admire the sound knowledge of the shepherds in interpreting the lizard chirps, their simplicity, their honesty and truthfulness; for, had they been otherwise, they might at once have caught hold of the prince and made him over to the tiger minister. True to the interpretation of the second shepherd, a carriage stopped in front of the Gaṇêśa temple, and there came out of it the Mantrî and the Pradhânî. Excepting themselves and, of course, the carriage driver and, as we know, the prince behind the Gaṇêśa, there were no others there. Kharavadana and his subordinate chose that solitary place at the dead of night to hold secret consultations. The Mantrî spoke first, and one could easily perceive from his words that he was in a fit of anger. “Why should the prince be thus allowed to ride free through my streets? Of the innumerable servants who eat our salt was there not one to cut down that impertinent head?” roared the minister. The Pradhânî replied, “My king, my lord, excuse me first for the humble words that I am going to speak before your honour. We have taken up a kingdom to which we have no right. If the prince had demanded the throne two years ago, we ought rightfully to have returned it to him. He never asked, and we did not restore it. He never troubles us with demands, but lives like a poor subject of the crown in his own quarters. Such being the case, why should we kill him? Why should we murder the only son of our old and much-respected king Śivâchâr? What I beg to suggest to your honour is, that we should no more trouble ourselves about his poor head.” The Pradhânî, as he discovered that these words were not to the taste of Kharavadana, stopped at once without proceeding further, though he had much to say upon that subject. “Vile wretch! Dare you preach morals to your superiors. You shall see the result of this, before the morning dawns,” bawled out the Minister. The Pradhânî saw that all his excellent advice was like blowing a horn in a deaf man’s ears. He feared for his own life, and so at once begged a thousand pardons, and promised to bring the head of the prince within a week. And as Kharavadana wanted only that, he spared the Pradhânî. They then talked on different subjects, and prepared to start.The prince inside, behind the Gaṇêśavigraha(The image of the belly-god), was now almost stifled to death. The short breaths that he inhaled and exhaled were themselves enough to kill him. Add to that the horrible words that fell on his ears. For all that he continued to hide himself. Kharavadana and the Pradhânî finished their conversation and got into the carriage. Sundara called courage to his assistance, “Śaṅkara has saved me till now; he may so save me throughout.” So thinking to himself, he boldly came out of the temple without making the least noise and sat behind the carriage, and, as it rolled on, thought again within himself: “I will follow these, come what may, and find out what more plans they devise against my life.”The carriage drove on to the opposite end of the town. It passed the west gate and entered a big park outside the town. The undaunted prince followed. In the middle of the park a fine tank was discovered. The banks looked like day, being lighted up profusely. In the midst of the tank a small island with a gaudy mansion was seen. Pillars of gold, sofas of silver and doors of diamonds made it the very Indralôka(The world of Indra, the regent of the sky) itself. A broad road with avenues of sweet smelling flowering trees connected the island with the bank. It was at that road that the carriage stopped. The prince, before that was reached, had got down and hid himself under the shade of a tree, to see unobserved all that passed in the mansion which he had every reason to believe was the destination of the minister. Kharavadana descended from the carriage and sent the Pradhânî home. What most astonished the prince was the absence of male servants in that garden. At the entrance of the road twenty young females of the most exquisite beauty waited and conducted Kharavadana through the sweet bower to the mansion. When it was reached, the minister sat down on a most richly furnished gold couch, and ordered the females there to bring the queen. Ten females arranged themselves on each side of an ivory palanquin, and started, apparently, to bring the queen in it. “These females themselves resemble Rambhâ, Urvaśî, &c.(Names of divine damsels) A woman who has beauty superior to the heads of these females must, of course, be of the greatest beauty imaginable in this world. Let me see her.” Thus thinking, the prince Sundara anxiously awaited the return of the palanquin. In a few minutes it came. A female of the most charming beauty jumped briskly out of it. The minister came running to give his helping hand to her. Horror of horrors, what sees the prince! It was his own wife, the very girl that the minister had married to him a few years before, that got down from the palanquin. “Are my eyes deceived? Do they perform their functions aright? Let me look once more.” So again and again wiping his eyes to clear them a little, the prince saw distinctly. It was his very wife herself. “Oh, I most foolishly accused that grey-headed guardian for a wicked fool, because he would not allow me to be friends with my wife. I now see what he saw a long time ago. Perhaps if I had seen more of her I should have thus been brought in here by some secret way that these devils seem now to have to the inmost parts of the palace. If I had taken anything from her hands I should have died that very day. My poor old man, my Raṇavîrasiṅg it is, who has saved me from all these calamities.” These thoughts and a thousand more were passing through Sundara’s mind when he saw his wife sitting down on the same couch with the minister. She accused him of the delay in murdering her husband, of his letting all opportunities escape during the morning ride. “Horrible! Did you, Kharavadana, marry me to such a faithful wife! Thank God and Raṇavîrasiṅg that I have not fallen into her snares,” thought Sundara to himself. The minister offered a thousand excuses, related to her all that had taken place between himself and the Pradhânî, and of what the latter had promised. Then they both retired to bed. At that moment the treacherous owl began to hoot, and one of the maid-servants, who happened to be a clever interpreter of owl-hootings revealed, to secure the favour of the minister, that the prince was lurking behind a tree in that very garden. Knowing the price set on Sundara’s head even female hands flew to cut it off. All ran with torches to search the garden.These words, of course, fell upon the ears of the prince like thunder. Before the people there began their search he began his race, jumped over a high wall, and flew like a kite. Before the lady-racers and the minister had left their sweet road to the tank-bank, Sundara found himself in the north street of the town. The news that the prince was out that night spread like a flame from the pleasure-park outside throughout the whole town, and before long avaricious persons were searching in the streets for his valuable head. Sundara thought it dangerous to pass through the streets, and wished to hide himself in a safe place. Fortune conducted him to one. It was a ruined old choultry, where food, during the days of his father, was distributed in charity to the beggars of the town, and which was now only resorted to by them to sleep, and not to receive rice. The prince entered it, and laid himself down in the midst of them, fortunately unobserved. He could hear from where he was the noise of the persons searching outside. In the garden the minister searched in vain, and accusing the female for her wrong interpretation as he thought, retired to bed.Outside the north gate, at a distance of three ghaṭikâs’ walk, lived a robber. He used to start out on a plundering expedition once in seven years. In the houses and mansions he used to rob he took only jewels of various kinds, Gômêda,(Cinnamon-stone) pushparûga, (topaz) vajra,(Diamond) vaiḍûrya, &c.; gold and silver he rejected as being too mean for his dignity. As he was(a precious stone) a high-caste robber, he used to take a coolie with him on his way to carry his booty. Of course, that coolie never returned from the cave. He was put to death after his services were over, lest he should disclose the secret of the robber.Unfortunately, that new-moon night happened to be the night of that cruel robber’s plundering expedition. He came out, and when he saw people in search of the prince, thinking that he was not in his palace, he wanted to plunder it. Wishing for a coolie, he entered the ruined choultry, to pick out one among the beggars there. Passing over the others he came to the prince. He found him stout and strong. “This beggar will do me good service to-day. I shall break my custom, and amply reward this man for his services.” So thinking to himself, the gentleman robber tapped Sundara with his cane on the back. The prince had just closed his eyes. In the short sleep that ensued he dreamt that the minister’s servants were pursuing him, and that one had caught him. At that very moment the gentleman-robber’s stroke fell upon his back, giving a sort of reality to his dream. He awoke with horror. “Tell me who you are,” asked the unknown person, “A beggar,” was the reply. “How does the night appear to you?” asked the robber. “As dark as dark can be,” replied the prince. The robber applied a sort of kajjala(a of paint for the eye) to the prince’s eyes, and asked, “How does the night appear now?” “As luminous as if a karôṛ of suns were in the sky,” answered Sundara. The robber applied a tilaka(A mark on the forehead) to the intended coolie’s forehead and addressed him thus: “I am a robber, now going to plunder the palace, from which the prince is absent. Follow me. I shall reward you richly. The kajjala has made the night a day to you. The tilaka takes you unobserved wherever you wish to go.” So saying, and dragging the coolie or supposed coolie by the hand, the robber went off to the palace. Wherever he found a door locked, he applied a leaf that he carried in his hand to the fastening, and behold, the lock flew back, and the door opened of its own accord. The prince was astonished. In a few minutes the robber opened one and all of the gates and boxes, and extracted all the precious stones. He tied them up in a bundle, and set it on the prince’s head, and asked him to follow. Sundara followed. He assisted in the plunder of his own palace, and carried the booty behind the robber, who, praised be his stupidity, never for one moment suspected he was a prince, but admired his coolie for the beauty of his person, thought of saving his life, and also of making him his son-in-law. For the robber had a beautiful daughter, for whom he had long been searching for a suitable husband. So with this thought he reached the cave, stopped before it, and taking the bundle from the prince’s head ordered him to go into a large cell, the mouth of which he covered with a big stone, which he lifted up by pronouncing an incantation over it. The robber went with the bundle to his wife, and described to her the beauty of the coolie, and what a fair match he would be for their daughter. The wife did not like it, and asked her husband to do with the coolie as they usually did, i.e., murder him; and the robber, who never in anything acted against the will of his wife, went in to fetch his weapon.Meanwhile the robber’s daughter, an excellent girl, of the most charming beauty, overhearing all that took place between her parents, came running to the cave where the coolie was confined. She pronounced a single word over the stone lid of the cave, and it opened, and the prince, who had lost all hopes of recovery, now beheld a beautiful girl coming towards him. “Whoever you may be, my dear coolie, fly for your life for the present. You are my husband. My father has so named you, but as my mother does not like it, he has gone to fetch his weapon to murder you. Excepting we three, none, not even Brahmâ, can open the once-shut gates. After hearing you once called my husband, I must ever regard you so. Now fly, and escape my father’s sharp sword. If you are a man, marry me in kind remembrance of the assistance rendered. If you fail to do so you are a beast, and I shall die a virgin.” So saying she conducted out in haste the supposed coolie, who had only time to take a hasty embrace, whispering in her ear that he was the prince, and that he would marry her without fail. He now ran for his life. Fearing the robber would come after him he left the way by which he reached the cave, and passing through unknown fields reached the south gate of the town. By that time the search for him had almost abated, and the prince, praising God for his delivery, reached the south street. The night was almost spent. Before returning to the palace he wished to take rest for a few minutes, till he had recovered his breath, and so he sat down on the pyal of an old and almost ruined house.That happened to be the house of a poor Brâhmaṇ, who had not even sufficient clothes to wear. As the prince sat down in a corner of the pyal the door of the house opened, and the old Brâhmaṇ came out. The old woman, the Brâhmaṇî, was standing at the door with a vessel containing water for her husband. Śubhâśâstrî, for that was the Brâhmaṇ’s name, looked up to the sky for a couple of minutes, after which he heaved a deep sigh, and said, “Alas, the prince, the only son of our former protector, Śivâchâr, is not to remain for more than two ghaṭikâs. A kâlasarpa (black serpent) will sting him. What shall we do? We are poor. If we could begin Sarpahôma(Serpent sacrifice) now we could tie the mouth of the snake, sacrifice it in the fire, and thus save the prince.” So saying the poor Brâhmaṇ cried. Sundara, who overheard everything, jumped down in confusion, and fell at the feet of the Brâhmaṇ, who asked him who he was. “I am a herdsman of the palace. Preserve my master’s life,” was the reply. Śubhâśâstrî was extremely poor. He had no means to procure a small quantity of ghî even to begin the hôma(Sacrifice). He did not know what to do. He begged from his neighbours, who all laughed at his stupidity, and ridiculed his astrology. The prince in a hopeless state of anguish wrung his hands, and in wringing them he felt his ring. Drawing it off his finger he gave it to Śubhâśâstrî, and requested him to pawn it. The latter resorted to the nearest bâzâr, and awakening the bâzâr-keeper procured from him a little ghî, by pawning the ring. Running home and bathing in cold water the Brâhmaṇ sat down for the hôma. The prince, fearing the serpent, wished to sit inside the house, but at a distance from the place of the ceremony. Just at the appointed hour a large black serpent broke through the sky, fell on the head of the prince, whom he was not able to bite, and gave up its life in the fire. “This is no shepherd, but the very prince himself,” said the Brâhmaṇî(Brâhmaṇ woman).Sundara rose up, and running surrounded them thrice, spoke to them thus:—“You alone are my parents and protectors. This night has been a most adventurous one with me. There was every possibility of my escaping every other calamity, and so I did. But no other power except yours could have averted this snake-bite. So my rescue is due to you alone. I have no time to lose now. Before daylight I must fly unobserved to the palace, and you shall before long see my reward for this.” So saying, Sundara ran to his palace and entered.Raṇavîrasiṅg was almost dead. The rumour that the prince was out reached him. He was astonished at the way in which Sundara had got out. He searched the whole palace. To his astonishment all the rooms had previously been opened and plundered. “Has the prince been stolen away by some vile tricks from the palace,” thought Raṇavîrasiṅg, and without knowing what to do he was buried in the ocean of sorrow, from which he gave up all hopes of recovering. What was his joy, then, when he saw the prince enter the palace just at dawn. “Mai Bâb Chakravarti, where have you been the whole night, throwing away the advice of your poor slave? How many enemies you have in this world, you have yet to know,” said Raṇavîrasiṅg. “I know them all now, only listen to what I say, and do as I bid. I have won the crown without a blow. Thank the day that gave me you as my protector, for it was only yesterday that I had ample reason to verify your statements. My adventures would make your hair stand on end. Thank God I have escaped from all of them unhurt. If you have a few men ready now, we have won the kingdom.” So saying, the prince explained to him every detail of his adventure. “If we catch hold of the minister now, we have done all.” “I could never for one moment think that you in a single night could have seen and done so much. Now that heaven has shown you the way, I shall obey you,” said Raṇavîrasiṅg, and Sundara accordingly issued the orders. He described the house with the pyal at which he had lingered for a while the previous night, and asked a servant to bring the owner of that house to the Râjasthânik office. Raṇavîrasiṅg brought in the Pradhânî, who was extremely delighted at the good intention of the prince. He was offered the Mantrî’s place. Two were sent to the shepherds. Twenty were sent to the pleasure-park to have the minister and his sweet paramour brought to the court in chains. The female servants were also ordered to be brought. The robber and his cruel wife were not forgotten. The prince minutely described the cave, and asked his servants to catch and imprison the robber by surprising him suddenly, without giving him time to have recourse to his vile tricks—lock-breaking kajjala, &c. The palace palanquin was sent for the robber’s daughter, whom the prince had firmly made up his mind to marry. The palace elephants were decked and sent to fetch with all pomp Śubhâśâstrî and his wife to the court. Thus, without a single stroke, Sundara won the kingdom. Raṇavîrasiṅg was thunder-struck by the excellent and bold way in which the prince in one night went through the series of calamities, and successfully overcame them all. The Pradhânî’s delight knew no bounds. He himself broke open the court and every one connected with the previous night’s adventure was ushered in. The prince bathed, offered up his prayers, and attended the council. When Śubhâśâstrî came in with his wife the prince put them on the simhâsana(throne), and himself standing before them, explained to all his previous night’s adventures, rewarded the poor Brâhmaṇ and the shepherds, punished by banishment the maid-servant who, knowing that the prince’s head was coveted, revealed his concealment, and ordered his wife, the minister, the robber, and the robber’s wife to be beheaded. He rewarded without limit his protector, Śubhâśâstrî, and married the robber’s daughter, being won over by her sincerity. The Pradhânî, as we have said already, he made his minister, and with his old guardian, the faithful Raṇavîrasiṅg, the prince reigned for several years in the kingdom of Vañjaimânagar.
Once upon a time there lived a man called Simon, who was very rich, but at the same time as stingy and miserly as he could be. He had a housekeeper called Nina, a clever capable woman, and as she did her work carefully and conscientiously, her master had the greatest respect for her.In his young days Simon had been one of the gayest and most active youths of the neighbourhood, but as he grew old and stiff he found it very difficult to walk, and his faithful servant urged him to get a horse so as to save his poor old bones. At last Simon gave way to the request and persuasive eloquence of his housekeeper, and betook himself one day to the market where he had seen a mule, which he thought would just suit him, and which he bought for seven gold pieces.Now it happened that there were three merry rascals hanging about the market-place, who much preferred living on other people’s goods to working for their own living. As soon as they saw that Simon had bought a mule, one of them said to his two boon companions, ‘My friends, this mule must be ours before we are many hours older.’‘But how shall we manage it,’ asked one of them.‘We must all three station ourselves at different intervals along the old man’s homeward way, and must each in his turn declare that the mule he has bought is a donkey. If we only stick to it you’ll see the mule will soon be ours.’ This proposal quite satisfied the others, and they all separated as they had agreed.Now when Simon came by, the first rogue said to him, ‘God bless you, my fine gentleman.’‘Thanks for your courtesy,’ replied Simon.‘Where have you been?’ asked the thief.‘To the market,’ was the reply.‘And what did you buy there?’ continued the rogue.‘This mule.’‘Which mule?’‘The one I’m sitting upon, to be sure,’ replied Simon.‘Are you in earnest, or only joking?’‘What do you mean?’‘Because it seems to me you’ve got hold of a donkey, and not of a mule.’‘A donkey? Rubbish!’ screamed Simon, and without another word he rode on his way. After a few hundred yards he met the second confederate, who addressed him, ‘Good day, dear sir, where are you coming from?’‘From the market,’ answered Simon.‘Did things go pretty cheap?’ asked the other.‘I should just think so,’ said Simon.‘And did you make any good bargain yourself?’‘I bought this mule on which you see me.’‘Is it possible that you really bought that beast for a mule?’‘Why certainly.’‘But, good heavens, it’s nothing but a donkey!’‘A donkey!’ repeated Simon, ‘you don’t mean to say so; if a single other person tells me that, I’ll make him a present of the wretched animal.’With these words he continued his way, and very soon met the third knave, who said to him, ‘God bless you, sir; are you by any chance coming from the market?’‘Yes, I am,’ replied Simon.‘And what bargain did you drive there?’ asked the cunning fellow.‘I bought this mule on which I am riding.’‘A mule! Are you speaking seriously, or do you wish to make a fool of me?’‘I’m speaking in sober earnest,’ said Simon; ‘it wouldn’t occur to me to make a joke of it.’‘Oh, my poor friend,’ cried the rascal, ‘don’t you see that is a donkey and not a mule? you have been taken in by some wretched cheats.’‘You are the third person in the last two hours who has told me the same thing,’ said Simon, ‘but I couldn’t believe it,’ and dismounting from the mule he spoke: ‘Keep the animal, I make you a present of it.’ The rascal took the beast, thanked him kindly, and rode on to join his comrades, while Simon continued his journey on foot.As soon as the old man got home, he told his housekeeper that he had bought a beast under the belief that it was a mule, but that it had turned out to be a donkey–at least, so he had been assured by several people he had met on the road, and that in disgust he had at last given it away.‘Oh, you simpleton!’ cried Nina; ‘didn’t you see that they were only playing you a trick? Really, I thought you’d have had more gumption than that; they wouldn’t have taken me in in that way.’‘Never mind,’ replied Simon, ‘I’ll play them one worth two of that; for depend upon it they won’t be contented with having got the donkey out of me, but they’ll try by some new dodge to get something more, or I’m much mistaken.’Now there lived in the village not far from Simon’s house, a peasant who had two goats, so alike in every respect that it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Simon bought them both, paid as small a price as he could for them, and leading them home with him, he told Nina to prepare a good meal, as he was going to invite some friends to dinner. He ordered her to roast some veal, and to boil a pair of chickens, and gave her some herbs to make a good savoury, and told her to bake the best tart she could make. Then he took one of the goats and tied it to a post in the courtyard, and gave it some grass to eat; but he bound a cord round the neck of the other goat and led it to the market.Hardly had he arrived there, than the three gentlemen who had got his mule perceived him, and coming up to him said: ‘Welcome, Mr. Simon, what brings you here; are you on the look out for a bargain?’‘I’ve come to get some provisions,’ he answered, ‘because some friends are coming to dine with me today, and it would give me much pleasure if you were to honour me with your company also.’The accomplices willingly accepted this invitation; and after Simon had made all his purchases, he tied them on to the goat’s back, and said to it, in the presence of the three cheats, ‘Go home now, and tell Nina to roast the veal, and boil the chickens, and tell her to prepare a savoury with herbs, and to bake the best tart she can make. Have you followed me? Then go, and Heaven’s blessing go with you.’As soon as it felt itself free, the laden goat trotted off as quickly as it could, and to this day nobody knows what became of it. But Simon, after wandering about the market for some time with his three friends and some others he had picked up, returned home to his house.When he and his guests entered the courtyard, they noticed the goat tied to the post quietly chewing the cud. They were not a little astonished at this, for of course they thought it was the same goat that Simon had sent home laden with provisions. As soon as they reached the house Mr. Simon said to his housekeeper, ‘Well, Nina, have you done what I told the goat to tell you to do?’ The artful woman, who at once understood her master, answered, ‘Certainly I have. The veal is roasted, and the chickens boiled.’‘That’s all right,’ said Simon.When the three rogues saw the cooked meats, and the tart in the oven, and heard Nina’s words, they were nearly beside themselves with amazement, and began to consult at once how they were to get the goat into their own possession. At last, towards the end of the meal, having sought in vain for some cunning dodge to get the goat away from Mr. Simon, one of them said to him, ‘My worthy host, you must sell your goat to us.’Simon replied that he was most unwilling to part with the creature, as no amount of money would make up to him for its loss; still, if they were quite set on it, he would let them have the goat for fifty gold pieces.The knaves, who thought they were doing a capital piece of business, paid down the fifty gold pieces at once, and left the house quite happily, leading the goat with them. When they got home they said to their wives, ‘You needn’t begin to cook the dinner to-morrow till we send the provisions home.’The following day they went to the market and bought chickens and other eatables, and after they had packed them on the back of the goat (which they had brought with them), they told it all the dishes they wished their wives to prepare. As soon as the goat felt itself free, it ran as quickly as it could, and was very soon lost to sight, and, as far as I know, was never heard of again.When the dinner hour approached all three went home and asked their wives if the goat had returned with the necessary provisions, and had told them what they wished prepared for their meal.‘Oh, you fools and blockheads!’ cried their wives, ‘how could you ever believe for a moment that a goat would do the work of a servant-maid? You have been finely deceived for once in a way. Of course, if you are always taking in other people, your turn to be taken in comes too, and this time you’ve been made to look pretty foolish.’When the three comrades saw that Mr. Simon had got the better of them, and done them out of fifty gold pieces, they flew into such a rage that they made up their minds to kill him, and, seizing their weapons for this purpose, went to his house.But the sly old man, who was terrified for his life that the three rogues might do him some harm, was on his guard, and said to his housekeeper, ‘Nina, take this bladder, which is filled with blood, and hide it under your cloak; then when these thieves come I’ll lay all the blame on you, and will pretend to be so angry with you that I will run at you with my knife, and pierce the bladder with it; then you must fall on the ground as if you were dead, and leave the rest to me.’Hardly had Simon said these words when the three rogues appeared and fell on him to kill him.‘My friends,’ called out Simon to then, ‘what do you accuse me of? I am in no way to blame; perhaps my housekeeper has done you some injury of which I know nothing.’ And with these words, he turned on Nina with his knife, and stuck it right into her, so that he pierced the bladder filled with blood. Instantly the housekeeper fell down as if she were dead, and the blood streamed all over the ground.Simon then pretended to be seized with remorse at the sight of this dreadful catastrophe, and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Unhappy wretch that I am! What have I done? Like a madman I have killed the woman who is the prop and stay of my old age. How could I ever go on living without her?’ Then he seized a pipe, and when he had blown into it for some time Nina sprang up alive and well.The rogues were more amazed than ever; they forgot their anger, and buying the pipe for two hundred gold pieces, they went joyfully home.Not long after this one of them quarrelled with his wife, and in his rage he thrust his knife into her breast so that she fell dead on the ground. Then he took Simon’s pipe and blew into it with all his might, in the hopes of calling his wife back to life. But he blew in vain, for the poor soul was as dead as a door-nail.When one of his comrades heard what had happened, he said, ‘You blockhead, you can’t have done it properly; just let me have a try,’ and with these words he seized his wife by the roots of her hair, cut her throat with a razor, and then took the pipe and blew into it with all his might but he couldn’t bring her back to life. The same thing happened to the third rogue, so that they were now all three without wives.Full of wrath they ran to Simon’s house, and, refusing to listen to a word of explanation or excuse, they seized the old man and put him into a sack, meaning to drown him in the neighbouring river. On their way there, however, a sudden noise threw them into such a panic that they dropped the sack with Simon in it and ran for their lives.Soon after this a shepherd happened to pass by with his flock, and while he was slowly following the sheep, who paused here and there by the wayside to browse on the tender grass, he heard a pitiful voice wailing, ‘They insist on my taking her, and I don’t want her, for I am too old, and I really can’t have her.’ The shepherd was much startled, for he couldn’t make out where these words, which were repeated more than once, came from, and looked about him to the right and left; at last he perceived the sack in which Simon was hidden, and going up to it he opened it and discovered Simon repeating his dismal complaint. The shepherd asked him why he had been left there tied up in a sack.Simon replied that the king of the country had insisted on giving him one of his daughters as a wife, but that he had refused the honour because he was too old and too frail. The simple-minded shepherd, who believed his story implicitly, asked him, ‘Do you think the king of the country would give his daughter to me?’‘Yes, certainly, I know he would,’ answered Simon, ‘if you were tied up in this sack instead of me.’ Then getting out of the sack, he tied the confiding shepherd up in it instead, and at his request fastened it securely and drove the sheep on himself.An hour had scarcely passed when the three rogues returned to the place where they had left Simon in the sack, and without opening it, one of them seized it and threw it into the river. And so the poor shepherd was drowned instead of Mr. Simon!The three rogues, having wreaked their vengeance, set out, for home. On their way they noticed a flock of sheep grazing not far from the road. They longed to steal a few of the lambs, and approached the flock, and were more than startled to recognise Mr. Simon, whom they had drowned in the river, as the shepherd who was looking after the sheep. They asked him how he had managed to get out of the river, to which he replied:‘Get along with you–you are no better than silly donkeys without any sense; if you had only drowned me in deeper water I would have returned with three times as many sheep.’When the three rogues heard this, they said to him: ‘Oh, dear Mr. Simon, do us the favour to tie us up in sacks and throw us into the river that we may give up our thieving ways and become the owners of flocks.’‘I am ready,’ answered Simon, ‘to do what you please; there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.’So he took three strong sacks and put a man in each of them, and fastened them up so tightly that they couldn’t get out, and then he threw them all into the river; and that was the end of the three rogues. But Mr. Simon returned home to his faithful Nina rich in flocks and gold, and lived for many a year in health and happiness.
In the midst of a garden grew a rose-tree, in full blossom, and in the prettiest of all the roses lived an elf. He was such a little wee thing, that no human eye could see him. Behind each leaf of the rose he had a sleeping chamber. He was as well formed and as beautiful as a little child could be, and had wings that reached from his shoulders to his feet. Oh, what sweet fragrance there was in his chambers! and how clean and beautiful were the walls! for they were the blushing leaves of the rose.During the whole day he enjoyed himself in the warm sunshine, flew from flower to flower, and danced on the wings of the flying butterflies. Then he took it into his head to measure how many steps he would have to go through the roads and cross-roads that are on the leaf of a linden-tree. What we call the veins on a leaf, he took for roads; ay, and very long roads they were for him; for before he had half finished his task, the sun went down: he had commenced his work too late. It became very cold, the dew fell, and the wind blew; so he thought the best thing he could do would be to return home. He hurried himself as much as he could; but he found the roses all closed up, and he could not get in; not a single rose stood open. The poor little elf was very much frightened. He had never before been out at night, but had always slumbered secretly behind the warm rose-leaves. Oh, this would certainly be his death. At the other end of the garden, he knew there was an arbor, overgrown with beautiful honey-suckles. The blossoms looked like large painted horns; and he thought to himself, he would go and sleep in one of these till the morning. He flew thither; but “hush!” two people were in the arbor,—a handsome young man and a beautiful lady. They sat side by side, and wished that they might never be obliged to part. They loved each other much more than the best child can love its father and mother.“But we must part,” said the young man; “your brother does not like our engagement, and therefore he sends me so far away on business, over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet bride; for so you are to me.”And then they kissed each other, and the girl wept, and gave him a rose; but before she did so, she pressed a kiss upon it so fervently that the flower opened. Then the little elf flew in, and leaned his head on the delicate, fragrant walls. Here he could plainly hear them say, “Farewell, farewell;” and he felt that the rose had been placed on the young man’s breast. Oh, how his heart did beat! The little elf could not go to sleep, it thumped so loudly. The young man took it out as he walked through the dark wood alone, and kissed the flower so often and so violently, that the little elf was almost crushed. He could feel through the leaf how hot the lips of the young man were, and the rose had opened, as if from the heat of the noonday sun.There came another man, who looked gloomy and wicked. He was the wicked brother of the beautiful maiden. He drew out a sharp knife, and while the other was kissing the rose, the wicked man stabbed him to death; then he cut off his head, and buried it with the body in the soft earth under the linden-tree.“Now he is gone, and will soon be forgotten,” thought the wicked brother; “he will never come back again. He was going on a long journey over mountains and seas; it is easy for a man to lose his life in such a journey. My sister will suppose he is dead; for he cannot come back, and she will not dare to question me about him.”Then he scattered the dry leaves over the light earth with his foot, and went home through the darkness; but he went not alone, as he thought,—the little elf accompanied him. He sat in a dry rolled-up linden-leaf, which had fallen from the tree on to the wicked man’s head, as he was digging the grave. The hat was on the head now, which made it very dark, and the little elf shuddered with fright and indignation at the wicked deed.It was the dawn of morning before the wicked man reached home; he took off his hat, and went into his sister’s room. There lay the beautiful, blooming girl, dreaming of him whom she loved so, and who was now, she supposed, travelling far away over mountain and sea. Her wicked brother stopped over her, and laughed hideously, as fiends only can laugh. The dry leaf fell out of his hair upon the counterpane; but he did not notice it, and went to get a little sleep during the early morning hours. But the elf slipped out of the withered leaf, placed himself by the ear of the sleeping girl, and told her, as in a dream, of the horrid murder; described the place where her brother had slain her lover, and buried his body; and told her of the linden-tree, in full blossom, that stood close by.“That you may not think this is only a dream that I have told you,” he said, “you will find on your bed a withered leaf.”Then she awoke, and found it there. Oh, what bitter tears she shed! and she could not open her heart to any one for relief. The window stood open the whole day, and the little elf could easily have reached the roses, or any of the flowers; but he could not find it in his heart to leave one so afflicted. In the window stood a bush bearing monthly roses. He seated himself in one of the flowers, and gazed on the poor girl. Her brother often came into the room, and would be quite cheerful, in spite of his base conduct; so she dare not say a word to him of her heart’s grief.As soon as night came on, she slipped out of the house, and went into the wood, to the spot where the linden-tree stood; and after removing the leaves from the earth, she turned it up, and there found him who had been murdered. Oh, how she wept and prayed that she also might die! Gladly would she have taken the body home with her; but that was impossible; so she took up the poor head with the closed eyes, kissed the cold lips, and shook the mould out of the beautiful hair.“I will keep this,” said she; and as soon as she had covered the body again with the earth and leaves, she took the head and a little sprig of jasmine that bloomed in the wood, near the spot where he was buried, and carried them home with her. As soon as she was in her room, she took the largest flower-pot she could find, and in this she placed the head of the dead man, covered it up with earth, and planted the twig of jasmine in it.“Farewell, farewell,” whispered the little elf. He could not any longer endure to witness all this agony of grief, he therefore flew away to his own rose in the garden. But the rose was faded; only a few dry leaves still clung to the green hedge behind it.“Alas! how soon all that is good and beautiful passes away,” sighed the elf.After a while he found another rose, which became his home, for among its delicate fragrant leaves he could dwell in safety. Every morning he flew to the window of the poor girl, and always found her weeping by the flower pot. The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine twig, and each day, as she became paler and paler, the sprig appeared to grow greener and fresher. One shoot after another sprouted forth, and little white buds blossomed, which the poor girl fondly kissed. But her wicked brother scolded her, and asked her if she was going mad. He could not imagine why she was weeping over that flower-pot, and it annoyed him. He did not know whose closed eyes were there, nor what red lips were fading beneath the earth. And one day she sat and leaned her head against the flower-pot, and the little elf of the rose found her asleep. Then he seated himself by her ear, talked to her of that evening in the arbor, of the sweet perfume of the rose, and the loves of the elves. Sweetly she dreamed, and while she dreamt, her life passed away calmly and gently, and her spirit was with him whom she loved, in heaven. And the jasmine opened its large white bells, and spread forth its sweet fragrance; it had no other way of showing its grief for the dead. But the wicked brother considered the beautiful blooming plant as his own property, left to him by his sister, and he placed it in his sleeping room, close by his bed, for it was very lovely in appearance, and the fragrance sweet and delightful. The little elf of the rose followed it, and flew from flower to flower, telling each little spirit that dwelt in them the story of the murdered young man, whose head now formed part of the earth beneath them, and of the wicked brother and the poor sister. “We know it,” said each little spirit in the flowers, “we know it, for have we not sprung from the eyes and lips of the murdered one. We know it, we know it,” and the flowers nodded with their heads in a peculiar manner. The elf of the rose could not understand how they could rest so quietly in the matter, so he flew to the bees, who were gathering honey, and told them of the wicked brother. And the bees told it to their queen, who commanded that the next morning they should go and kill the murderer. But during the night, the first after the sister’s death, while the brother was sleeping in his bed, close to where he had placed the fragrant jasmine, every flower cup opened, and invisibly the little spirits stole out, armed with poisonous spears. They placed themselves by the ear of the sleeper, told him dreadful dreams and then flew across his lips, and pricked his tongue with their poisoned spears. “Now have we revenged the dead,” said they, and flew back into the white bells of the jasmine flowers. When the morning came, and as soon as the window was opened, the rose elf, with the queen bee, and the whole swarm of bees, rushed in to kill him. But he was already dead. People were standing round the bed, and saying that the scent of the jasmine had killed him. Then the elf of the rose understood the revenge of the flowers, and explained it to the queen bee, and she, with the whole swarm, buzzed about the flower-pot. The bees could not be driven away. Then a man took it up to remove it, and one of the bees stung him in the hand, so that he let the flower-pot fall, and it was broken to pieces. Then every one saw the whitened skull, and they knew the dead man in the bed was a murderer. And the queen bee hummed in the air, and sang of the revenge of the flowers, and of the elf of the rose and said that behind the smallest leaf dwells One, who can discover evil deeds, and punish them also.
Once upon a time there was a convent at Casteltermini which contained many monks, one of whom was named Brother Giovannone. At the time when the Lord and all his apostles were on their travels they visited this convent, and all the monks asked the Lord to pardon their souls; Brother Giovannone asked nothing. St. Peter said to him: “Why do you not ask pardon for your soul, like the others?” “I don’t wish anything.” St. Peter said: “Nothing? When you come to paradise we will talk about it.” When the Master had taken his departure and had gone some distance, Brother Giovannone began to cry out: “Master, Master, wait! I want a favor, and it is that any one I command must get into my pouch.” The Master said: “This request is granted.”After he was dead Brother Giovannone went and knocked at the gate of paradise and St. Peter said to him: “There is no room for you here.” “Where must I go, then?” asked Brother Giovannone. “To purgatory,” answered St. Peter. So he knocked at purgatory and they told him: “There is no place for you here.” “Where must I go, then?” “To hell.” He knocked at hell and Lucifer asked: “Who is there?” “Brother Giovannone.” Then Lucifer said to his devils: “You take the mace; you, the hammer; you, the tongs!” Brother Giovannone asked: “What are you going to do with these instruments?” “We are going to beat you.” “In the name of Brother Giovannone, into my pouch with you, all you devils!”Then he hung the pouch about his neck and carried all the devils to a smith who had eight apprentices, and the master, nine. “Master-smith, how much do you want to hammer this pouch eight days and nights?” They agreed upon forty ounces, and hammered day and night and the pouch was not reduced to powder, and Brother Giovannone was always present. The last day the smiths said: “What the devil are these; for they cannot be pounded fine!” Brother Giovannone answered: “They are indeed devils! Pound hard!” After they were through hammering, he took the pouch and emptied it out in the plain; the devils were so bruised and mangled that they could hardly drag themselves back to hell.Then Brother Giovannone went and knocked again at paradise. “Who is there?” “Brother Giovannone.” “There is no room for you.” “Peter, if you don’t let me in I will call you baldhead.” “Now that you have called me baldhead,” said St. Peter, “you shall not enter.” Brother Giovannone said: “Ah, what is that you say? I will be even with you!”So he stood near the gate of paradise and said to all the souls who were going to enter: “In the name of Brother Giovannone, into my pouch, all you souls!” and no more souls entered paradise. One day St. Peter said to the Master: “Why do no more souls enter?” The Lord answered: “Because Brother Giovannone is behind the gate putting them all in his pouch.” “What shall we do?” said St. Peter. The Lord answered: “See if you can get hold of the pouch and bring them all in together.” Brother Giovannone heard all this outside. What did he do? He said: “Into the pouch with myself!” and in a moment was in his own pouch. When St. Peter looked Brother Giovannone was not to be seen, so he seized the pouch and dragged it into paradise and shut the gate at once, and opened the pouch. The first one who came out was Brother Giovannone himself, who began at once to quarrel with St. Peter because St. Peter wished to put him out, and Brother Giovannone did not want to go. Then the Lord said: “When one once enters the house of Jesus, he does not leave it again.”
There was once a butterfly who wished for a bride; and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced with a very critical eye at all the flower beds and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should sit. But there was a great number of them, and it appeared as if making his choice would become very wearisome. The butterfly did not like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies.The French call this flower Marguerite and say that it can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf they ask a question about their sweethearts, thus: “Does he or she love me? Dearly? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?” and so on. Each one speaks these words in his own language.Illustration from Wikipedia. Used under Creative Commons.The butterfly came, also, to Marguerite to inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness.“Darling Marguerite daisy,” he said to her, “you are the wisest woman of them all. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her and propose.”But Marguerite did not answer him. She was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; there is a great difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third, but she remained dumb, answering him not at all. Then he would wait no longer, but flew away to commence his wooing at once. It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom.“They are very pretty,” thought the butterfly; “charming little lasses, but they are rather stiff and formal.”Then, as young lads often do, he looked out for the older girls. He next flew to the anemones, but these were rather sour to his taste. The violet was a little too sentimental; the lime blossoms were too small—and, besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow with the first wind that blew; and he thought a marriage with one of them might last too short a time. The pea blossom pleased him most of all. She was white and red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, yet can be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer when, close by her, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.“Who is that?” he asked.“That is my sister,” replied the pea blossom.“Oh, indeed! and you will be like her some day,” said he. And at once he flew away, for he felt quite shocked.A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom; but there were so many girls like her, with long faces and sallow complexions! No, he did not like her. But which one did he like?Spring went by, and summer drew toward its close. Autumn came, but he had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes, but all in vain—they had not the fresh, fragrant air of youth. The heart asks for fragrance even when it is no longer young, and there is very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry chrysanthemums. Therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on the ground. This plant, you know, has no blossom, but is sweetness all over; it is full of fragrance from head to foot, with the scent of a flower in every leaf.“I will take her,” said the butterfly; and he made her an offer. But the mint stood silent and stiff as she listened to him. At last she said:“I can give you friendship if you like, nothing more. I am old, and you are old, but we may live for each other just the same. As to marrying, however, no! that would appear ridiculous at our age.”And so it happened that the butterfly got no wife at all. He had been too long choosing, which is always a bad plan, and became what is called an old bachelor.It was late in the autumn, with rainy and cloudy weather. The cold wind blew over the bowed backs of the willows, so that they creaked again. It was not the weather for flying about in summer clothes, but fortunately the butterfly was not out in it. By a happy chance he had got a shelter. It was in a room heated by a stove and as warm as summer. He could live here, he said, well enough.“But it is not enough merely to exist,” said he. “I need freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion.”So he flew against the window-pane and was seen and admired by those in the room, who caught him and stuck him on a pin in a box of curiosities. They could not do more for him.“Now I am perched on a stalk like the flowers,” said the butterfly. “It is not very pleasant, certainly. I imagine it is something like being married, for here I am stuck fast.” And with this thought he consoled himself a little.“That seems very poor consolation,” said one of the plants in the room, that grew in a pot.“Ah,” thought the butterfly, “one can’t very well trust these plants in pots; they have had too much to do with human beings.”
Once upon a time there lived a queen whose heart was sore because she had no children. She was sad enough when her husband was at home with her, but when he was away she would see nobody, but sat and wept all day long.Now it happened that a war broke out with the king of a neighbouring country, and the queen was left in the palace alone.She was so unhappy that she felt as if the walls would stifle her, so she wandered out into the garden, and threw herself down on a grassy bank, under the shade of a lime tree. She had been there for some time, when a rustle among the leaves caused her to look up, and she saw an old woman limping on her crutches towards the stream that flowed through the grounds.When she had quenched her thirst, she came straight up to the queen, and said to her: ‘Do not take it evil, noble lady, that I dare to speak to you, and do not be afraid of me, for it may be that I shall bring you good luck.’The queen looked at her doubtfully, and answered: ‘You do not seem as if you had been very lucky yourself, or to have much good fortune to spare for anyone else.’‘Under rough bark lies smooth wood and sweet kernel,’ replied the old woman. ‘Let me see your hand, that I may read the future.’The queen held out her hand, and the old woman examined its lines closely. Then she said, ‘Your heart is heavy with two sorrows, one old and one new. The new sorrow is for your husband, who is fighting far away from you; but, believe me, he is well, and will soon bring you joyful news. But your other sorrow is much older than this. Your happiness is spoilt because you have no children.’ At these words the queen became scarlet, and tried to draw away her hand, but the old woman said:‘Have a little patience, for there are some things I want to see more clearly.’‘But who are you?’ asked the queen, ‘for you seem to be able to read my heart.’‘Never mind my name,’ answered she, ‘but rejoice that it is permitted to me to show you a way to lessen your grief. You must, however, promise to do exactly what I tell you, if any good is to come of it.’‘Oh, I will obey you exactly,’ cried the queen, ‘and if you can help me you shall have in return anything you ask for.’The old woman stood thinking for a little: then she drew something from the folds of her dress, and, undoing a number of wrappings, brought out a tiny basket made of birch-bark. She held it out to the queen, saying, ‘In the basket you will find a bird’s egg. This you must be careful to keep in a warm place for three months, when it will turn into a doll. Lay the doll in a basket lined with soft wool, and leave it alone, for it will not need any food, and by-and-by you will find it has grown to be the size of a baby. Then you will have a baby of your own, and you must put it by the side of the other child, and bring your husband to see his son and daughter. The boy you will bring up yourself, but you must entrust the little girl to a nurse. When the time comes to have them christened you will invite me to be godmother to the princess, and this is how you must send the invitation. Hidden in the cradle, you will find a goose’s wing: throw this out of the window, and I will be with you directly; but be sure you tell no one of all the things that have befallen you.’The queen was about to reply, but the old woman was already limping away, and before she had gone two steps she had turned into a young girl, who moved so quickly that she seemed rather to fly than to walk. The queen, watching this transformation, could hardly believe her eyes, and would have taken it all for a dream, had it not been for the basket which she held in her hand. Feeling a different being from the poor sad woman who had wandered into the garden so short a time before, she hastened to her room, and felt carefully in the basket for the egg. There it was, a tiny thing of soft blue with little green spots, and she took it out and kept it in her bosom, which was the warmest place she could think of.A fortnight after the old woman had paid her visit, the king came home, having conquered his enemies. At this proof that the old woman had spoken truth, the queen’s heart bounded, for she now had fresh hopes that the rest of the prophecy might be fulfilled.She cherished the basket and the egg as her chiefest treasures, and had a golden case made for the basket, so that when the time came to lay the egg in it, it might not risk any harm.Three months passed, and, as the old woman had bidden her, the queen took the egg from her bosom, and laid it snugly amidst the warm woollen folds. The next morning she went to look at it, and the first thing she saw was the broken eggshell, and a little doll lying among the pieces. Then she felt happy at last, and leaving the doll in peace to grow, waited, as she had been told, for a baby of her own to lay beside it.In course of time, this came also, and the queen took the little girl out of the basket, and placed it with her son in a golden cradle which glittered with precious stones. Next she sent for the king, who nearly went mad with joy at the sight of the children.Soon there came a day when the whole court was ordered to be present at the christening of the royal babies, and when all was ready the queen softly opened the window a little, and let the goose wing fly out. The guests were coming thick and fast, when suddenly there drove up a splendid coach drawn by six cream-coloured horses, and out of it stepped a young lady dressed in garments that shone like the sun. Her face could not be seen, for a veil covered her head, but as she came up to the place where the queen was standing with the babies she drew the veil aside, and everyone was dazzled with her beauty. She took the little girl in her arms, and holding it up before the assembled company announced that henceforward it would be known by the name of Dotterine–a name which no one understood but the queen, who knew that the baby had come from the yolk of an egg. The boy was called Willem.After the feast was over and the guests were going away, the godmother laid the baby in the cradle, and said to the queen, ‘Whenever the baby goes to sleep, be sure you lay the basket beside her, and leave the eggshells in it. As long as you do that, no evil can come to her; so guard this treasure as the apple of your eye, and teach your daughter to do so likewise.’ Then, kissing the baby three times, she mounted her coach and drove away.The children throve well, and Dotterine’s nurse loved her as if she were the baby’s real mother. Every day the little girl seemed to grow prettier, and people used to say she would soon be as beautiful as her godmother, but no one knew, except the nurse, that at night, when the child slept, a strange and lovely lady bent over her. At length she told the queen what she had seen, but they determined to keep it as a secret between themselves.The twins were by this time nearly two years old, when the queen was taken suddenly ill. All the best doctors in the country were sent for, but it was no use, for there is no cure for death. The queen knew she was dying, and sent for Dotterine and her nurse, who had now become her lady-in-waiting. To her, as her most faithful servant, she gave the lucky basket in charge, and besought her to treasure it carefully. ‘When my daughter,’ said the queen, ‘is ten years old, you are to hand it over to her, but warn her solemnly that her whole future happiness depends on the way she guards it. About my son, I have no fears. He is the heir of the kingdom, and his father will look after him.’ The lady-in-waiting promised to carry out the queen’s directions, and above all to keep the affair a secret. And that same morning the queen died.After some years the king married again, but he did not love his second wife as he had done his first, and had only married her for reasons of ambition. She hated her step-children, and the king, seeing this, kept them out of the way, under the care of Dotterine’s old nurse. But if they ever strayed across the path of the queen, she would kick them out of her sight like dogs.On Dotterine’s tenth birthday her nurse handed her over the cradle, and repeated to her her mother’s dying words; but the child was too young to understand the value of such a gift, and at first thought little about it.Two more years slipped by, when one day during the king’s absence the stepmother found Dotterine sitting under a lime tree. She fell as usual into a passion, and beat the child so badly that Dotterine went staggering to her own room. Her nurse was not there, but suddenly, as she stood weeping, her eyes fell upon the golden case in which lay the precious basket. She thought it might contain something to amuse her, and looked eagerly inside, but nothing was there save a handful of wool and two empty eggshells. Very much disappointed, she lifted the wool, and there lay the goose’s wing. ‘What old rubbish,’ said the child to herself, and, turning, threw the wing out of the open window.In a moment a beautiful lady stood beside her. ‘Do not be afraid,’ said the lady, stroking Dotterine’s head. ‘I am your godmother, and have come to pay you a visit. Your red eyes tell me that you are unhappy. I know that your stepmother is very unkind to you, but be brave and patient, and better days will come. She will have no power over you when you are grown up, and no one else can hurt you either, if only you are careful never to part from your basket, or to lose the eggshells that are in it. Make a silken case for the little basket, and hide it away in your dress night and day and you will be safe from your stepmother and anyone that tries to harm you. But if you should happen to find yourself in any difficulty, and cannot tell what to do, take the goose’s wing from the basket, and throw it out of the window, and in a moment I will come to help you. Now come into the garden, that I may talk to you under the lime trees, where no one can hear us.’They had so much to say to each other, that the sun was already setting when the godmother had ended all the good advice she wished to give the child, and saw it was time for her to be going. ‘Hand me the basket,’ said she, ‘for you must have some supper. I cannot let you go hungry to bed.’Then, bending over the basket, she whispered some magic words, and instantly a table covered with fruits and cakes stood on the ground before them. When they had finished eating, the godmother led the child back, and on the way taught her the words she must say to the basket when she wanted it to give her something.In a few years more, Dotterine was a grown-up young lady, and those who saw her thought that the world did not contain so lovely a girl.About this time a terrible war broke out, and the king and his army were beaten back and back, till at length they had to retire into the town, and make ready for a siege. It lasted so long that food began to fail, and even in the palace there was not enough to eat.So one morning Dotterine, who had had neither supper nor breakfast, and was feeling very hungry, let her wing fly away. She was so weak and miserable, that directly her godmother appeared she burst into tears, and could not speak for some time.‘Do not cry so, dear child,’ said the godmother. ‘I will carry you away from all this, but the others I must leave to take their chance.’ Then, bidding Dotterine follow her, she passed through the gates of the town, and through the army outside, and nobody stopped them, or seemed to see them.The next day the town surrendered, and the king and all his courtiers were taken prisoners, but in the confusion his son managed to make his escape. The queen had already met her death from a spear carelessly thrown.As soon as Dotterine and her godmother were clear of the enemy, Dotterine took off her own clothes, and put on those of a peasant, and in order to disguise her better her godmother changed her face completely. ‘When better times come,’ her protectress said cheerfully, ‘and you want to look like yourself again, you have only to whisper the words I have taught you into the basket, and say you would like to have your own face once more, and it will be all right in a moment. But you will have to endure a little longer yet.’ Then, warning her once more to take care of the basket, the lady bade the girl farewell.For many days Dotterine wandered from one place to another without finding shelter, and though the food which she got from the basket prevented her from starving, she was glad enough to take service in a peasant’s house till brighter days dawned. At first the work she had to do seemed very difficult, but either she was wonderfully quick in learning, or else the basket may have secretly helped her. Anyhow at the end of three days she could do everything as well as if she had cleaned pots and swept rooms all her life.One morning Dotterine was busy scouring a wooden tub, when a noble lady happened to pass through the village. The girl’s bright face as she stood in the front of the door with her tub attracted the lady, and she stopped and called the girl to come and speak to her.‘Would you not like to come and enter my service?’ she asked.‘Very much,’ replied Dotterine, ‘if my present mistress will allow me.’‘Oh, I will settle that,’ answered the lady; and so she did, and the same day they set out for the lady’s house, Dotterine sitting beside the coachman.Six months went by, and then came the joyful news that the king’s son had collected an army and had defeated the usurper who had taken his father’s place, but at the same moment Dotterine learned that the old king had died in captivity. The girl wept bitterly for his loss, but in secrecy, as she had told her mistress nothing about her past life.At the end of a year of mourning, the young king let it be known that he intended to marry, and commanded all the maidens in the kingdom to come to a feast, so that he might choose a wife from among them. For weeks all the mothers and all the daughters in the land were busy preparing beautiful dresses and trying new ways of putting up their hair, and the three lovely daughters of Dotterine’s mistress were as much excited as the rest. The girl was clever with her fingers, and was occupied all day with getting ready their smart clothes, but at night when she went to bed she always dreamed that her godmother bent over her and said, ‘Dress your young ladies for the feast, and when they have started follow them yourself. Nobody will be so fine as you.’When the great day came, Dotterine could hardly contain herself, and when she had dressed her young mistresses and seen them depart with their mother she flung herself on her bed, and burst into tears. Then she seemed to hear a voice whisper to her, ‘Look in your basket, and you will find in it everything that you need.’Dotterine did not want to be told twice! Up she jumped, seized her basket, and repeated the magic words, and behold! there lay a dress on the bed, shining as a star. She put it on with fingers that trembled with joy, and, looking in the glass, was struck dumb at her own beauty. She went downstairs, and in front of the door stood a fine carriage, into which she stepped and was driven away like the wind.The king’s palace was a long way off, yet it seemed only a few minutes before Dotterine drew up at the great gates. She was just going to alight, when she suddenly remembered she had left her basket behind her. What was she to do? Go back and fetch it, lest some ill-fortune should befall her, or enter the palace and trust to chance that nothing evil would happen? But before she could decide, a little swallow flew up with the basket in its beak, and the girl was happy again.The feast was already at its height, and the hall was brilliant with youth and beauty, when the door was flung wide and Dotterine entered, making all the other maidens look pale and dim beside her. Their hopes faded as they gazed, but their mothers whispered together, saying, ‘Surely this is our lost princess!’The young king did not know her again, but he never left her side nor took his eyes from her. And at midnight a strange thing happened. A thick cloud suddenly filled the hall, so that for a moment all was dark. Then the mist suddenly grew bright, and Dotterine’s godmother was seen standing there.‘This,’ she said, turning to the king, ‘is the girl whom you have always believed to be your sister, and who vanished during the siege. She is not your sister at all, but the daughter of the king of a neighbouring country, who was given to your mother to bring up, to save her from the hands of a wizard.’Then she vanished, and was never seen again, nor the wonder-working basket either; but now that Dotterine’s troubles were over she could get on without them, and she and the young king lived happily together till the end of their days.
Far down in the cool depths of the ocean dwelt Æger, the sea-god, in his shining palace. The water lapped softly against its clear green walls. All the herds of Ran, the sea-god’s wife, played about it. Within sat Æger on his throne, and the winds and waves, which were his children, went abroad to do his will.On a day when the ocean lay calm and quiet in the sunlight, the gods feasted in Æger’s palace. But Æger’s great kettle was lost, and there was no meat for the guests. Thor shook his great hammer in anger and vowed to bring back the kettle. But no one could tell him where to find it. Tyr said, “Just within the borders of Jotunheim lives Hymer. He has a kettle a mile deep. But he who goes for it must be wary, for Hymer is a dog-wise and dangerous giant.” Thor cried, “I fear no giant! Show me the way and I will bring the kettle!” So the two gods passed out of Æger’s sea-green hall and away through groves of coral. Dolphins and sword-fish played beside their pathway without fear. Soon the gods reached the upper world. There they made themselves look like two young men. Then they traveled away to the land of snow. On the icy shore of the ocean they found Hymer’s house. At the door they were met by Hymer’s beautiful wife, who was Tyr’s mother. The house was dark and gloomy. Very glad was Tyr’s mother to see the guests. She bade them welcome, but told them to hide under the kettles. Hymer came home late, with his beard shining with frost. The beams of the low, dark house shook under his feet. “My son is here,” said his wife, when he had shaken the frost from his hair. “Where is he?” said Hymer. “Behind that post,” replied his wife. Hymer’s eyes blazed. He stared hard at the post. Instantly it flew into splinters. Eight of the kettles fell clanging to the ground. Out sprang the gods and faced the giant. When Hymer saw his old enemy, Thor, he was frightened. So he bade them welcome, and ordered three oxen to be roasted whole for supper.Thor ate two himself, and Hymer thought he would kill no more of his fine black oxen. He thought he would have fish for the next meal.At dawn the next day Thor saw Hymer getting his boat out. Thor dressed quickly and asked to go along to do the rowing. Hymer said, “You might take cold if you stay out as long as I stay, and the rowing might tire you.” Thor was angry enough to box the giant’s ears. But he only answered that he could row as far as Hymer wanted to go, and that Hymer would be the first to want to come back. Thor then asked Hymer for some bait. But Hymer said if he wanted to fish he must find his own bait. At this Thor marched up to the finest ox in Hymer’s herd and wrung its head off. Thor rowed with such strength that Hymer was surprised. When he wanted to stop, Thor said they were not out far enough yet. Then Hymer cried in fear, “If we go any farther we will be in danger from the Midgard Serpent.” At last Thor stopped, and Hymer soon caught two whales. Thor took out a line he had brought from Asgard, and baited the hook with the ox’s head. The moment the bait dropped to the bottom of the ocean, the Midgard Serpent swallowed it. Then Thor tightened his belt of strength and pulled till his feet went through the boat and he stood on the bottom of the ocean. The Serpent’s head rose to the top of the water. When Hymer saw it, he turned pale and trembled with fright. Just as Thor drew back his hammer to strike, Hymer cut the line, and the serpent sank, to the bottom. Thor gave the giant a blow with his fist that nearly ended his life. Taking the two whales into the boat Thor rowed to shore. There he took up the whales and the boat and carried them all into the house at once. At supper the giant challenged Thor to break his goblet by throwing it. Thor threw it against the walls and upon the floor, but it would not break. Then the giant’s wife whispered, “Throw it against Hymer’s forehead.” Thor did so, and the goblet was shattered. Then the giant said Thor might have the kettle if he could carry it away. Thor tried to lift it, but could not at first. As he tried he grew stronger, and, at last, he put the kettle over his head. But it reached down to his heels, and the handle tripped him. Thor and Tyr traveled as fast as they could with the kettle. After they had gone a long-way, Tyr saw Hymer and a host of his friends rushing after them.Thor put down the kettle and killed all the giants.Every harvest time Æger made a feast for the gods in memory of Thor’s bravery.
Many years ago the hippopotamus, whose name was Isantim, was one of the biggest kings on the land; he was second only to the elephant. The hippo had seven large fat wives, of whom he was very fond. Now and then he used to give a big feast to the people, but a curious thing was that, although every one knew the hippo, no one, except his seven wives, knew his name.At one of the feasts, just as the people were about to sit down, the hippo said, “You have come to feed at my table, but none of you know my name. If you cannot tell my name, you shall all of you go away without your dinner.”Image from pixabay.org.As they could not guess his name, they had to go away and leave all the good food and tombo behind them. But before they left, the tortoise stood up and asked the hippopotamus what he would do if he told him his name at the next feast? So the hippo replied that he would be so ashamed of himself, that he and his whole family would leave the land, and for the future would dwell in the water.Now it was the custom for the hippo and his seven wives to go down every morning and evening to the river to wash and have a drink. Of this custom the tortoise was aware. The hippo used to walk first, and the seven wives followed. One day when they had gone down to the river to bathe, the tortoise made a small hole in the middle of the path, and then waited. When the hippo and his wives returned, two of the wives were some distance behind, so the tortoise came out from where he had been hiding, and half buried himself in the hole he had dug, leaving the greater part of his shell exposed. When the two hippo wives came along, the first one knocked her foot against the tortoise’s shell, and immediately called out to her husband, “Oh! Isantim, my husband, I have hurt my foot.” At this the tortoise was very glad, and went joyfully home, as he had found out the hippo’s name.When the next feast was given by the hippo, he made the same condition about his name; so the tortoise got up and said, “You promise you will not kill me if I tell you your name?” and the hippo promised. The tortoise then shouted as loud as he was able, “Your name is Isantim,” at which a cheer went up from all the people, and then they sat down to their dinner.When the feast was over, the hippo, with his seven wives, in accordance with his promise, went down to the river, and they have always lived in the water from that day till now; and although they come on shore to feed at night, you never find a hippo on the land in the daytime.
There was once upon a time a man and his wife who had an old cat and an old dog. One day the man, whose name was Simon, said to his wife, whose name was Susan, ‘Why should we keep our old cat any longer? She never catches any mice now-a-days, and is so useless that I have made up my mind to drown her.’But his wife replied, ‘Don’t do that, for I’m sure she could still catch mice.’‘Rubbish,’ said Simon. ‘The mice might dance on her and she would never catch one. I’ve quite made up my mind that the next time I see her, I shall put her in the water.’Susan was very unhappy when she heard this, and so was the cat, who had been listening to the conversation behind the stove. When Simon went off to his work, the poor cat miawed so pitifully, and looked up so pathetically into Susan’s face, that the woman quickly opened the door and said, ‘Fly for your life, my poor little beast, and get well away from here before your master returns.’The cat took her advice, and ran as quickly as her poor old legs would carry her into the wood, and when Simon came home, his wife told him that the cat had vanished.‘So much the better for her,’ said Simon. ‘And now we have got rid of her, we must consider what we are to do with the old dog. He is quite deaf and blind, and invariably barks when there is no need, and makes no sound when there is. I think the best thing I can do with him is to hang him.’But soft-hearted Susan replied, ‘Please don’t do so; he’s surely not so useless as all that.’‘Don’t be foolish,’ said her husband. ‘The courtyard might be full of thieves and he’d never discover it. No, the first time I see him, it’s all up with him, I can tell you.’Susan was very unhappy at his words, and so was the dog, who was lying in the corner of the room and had heard everything. As soon as Simon had gone to his work, he stood up and howled so touchingly that Susan quickly opened the door, and said ‘Fly for your life, poor beast, before your master gets home.’ And the dog ran into the wood with his tail between his legs.When her husband returned, his wife told him that the dog had disappeared.‘That’s lucky for him,’ said Simon, but Susan sighed, for she had been very fond of the poor creature.Now it happened that the cat and dog met each other on their travels, and though they had not been the best of friends at home, they were quite glad to meet among strangers. They sat down under a holly tree and both poured forth their woes.Presently a fox passed by, and seeing the pair sitting together in a disconsolate fashion, he asked them why they sat there, and what they were grumbling about.The cat replied, ‘I have caught many a mouse in my day, but now that I am old and past work, my master wants to drown me.’And the dog said, ‘Many a night have I watched and guarded my master’s house, and now that I am old and deaf, he wants to hang me.’The fox answered, ‘That’s the way of the world. But I’ll help you to get back into your master’s favour, only you must first help me in my own troubles.’They promised to do their best, and the fox continued, ‘The wolf has declared war against me, and is at this moment marching to meet me in company with the bear and the wild boar, and to-morrow there will be a fierce battle between us.’‘All right,’ said the dog and the cat, ‘we will stand by you, and if we are killed, it is at any rate better to die on the field of battle than to perish ignobly at home,’ and they shook paws and concluded the bargain. The fox sent word to the wolf to meet him at a certain place, and the three set forth to encounter him and his friends.The wolf, the bear, and the wild boar arrived on the spot first, and when they had waited some time for the fox, the dog, and the cat, the bear said, ‘I’ll climb up into the oak tree, and look if I can see them coming.’The first time he looked round he said, ‘I can see nothing,’ and the second time he looked round he said, ‘I can still see nothing.’ But the third time he said, ‘I see a mighty army in the distance, and one of the warriors has the biggest lance you ever saw!’This was the cat, who was marching along with her tail erect.And so they laughed and jeered, and it was so hot that the bear said, ‘The enemy won’t be here at this rate for many hours to come, so I’ll just curl myself up in the fork of the tree and have a little sleep.’And the wolf lay down under the oak, and the wild boar buried himself in some straw, so that nothing was seen of him but one ear.And while they were lying there, the fox, the cat and the dog arrived. When the cat saw the wild boar’s ear, she pounced upon it, thinking it was a mouse in the straw.The wild boar got up in a dreadful fright, gave one loud grunt and disappeared into the wood. But the cat was even more startled than the boar, and, spitting with terror, she scrambled up into the fork of the tree, and as it happened right into the bear’s face. Now it was the bear’s turn to be alarmed, and with a mighty growl he jumped down from the oak and fell right on the top of the wolf and killed him as dead as a stone.On their way home from the war the fox caught score of mice, and when they reached Simon’s cottage he put them all on the stove and said to the cat, ‘Now go and fetch one mouse after the other, and lay them down before your master.’‘All right,’ said the cat, and did exactly as the fox told her.When Susan saw this she said to her husband, ‘Just look, here is our old cat back again, and see what a lot of mice she has caught.’‘Wonders will never cease,’ cried Simon. ‘I certainly never thought the old cat would ever catch another mouse.’But Susan answered, ‘There, you see, I always said our cat was a most excellent creature–but you men always think you know best.’In the meantime the fox said to the dog, ‘Our friend Simon has just killed a pig; when it gets a little darker, you must go into the courtyard and bark with all your might.’‘All right,’ said the dog, and as soon as it grew dusk he began to bark loudly.Susan, who heard him first, said to her husband, ‘Our dog must have come back, for I hear him barking lustily. Do go out and see what’s the matter; perhaps thieves may be stealing our sausages.’But Simon answered, ‘The foolish brute is as deaf as a post and is always barking at nothing,’ and he refused to get up.The next morning Susan got up early to go to church at the neighbouring town, and she thought she would take some sausages to her aunt who lived there. But when she went to her larder, she found all the sausages gone, and a great hole in the floor. She called out to her husband, ‘I was perfectly right. Thieves have been here last night, and they have not left a single sausage. Oh! if you had only got up when I asked you to!’Then Simon scratched his head and said, ‘I can’t understand it at all. I certainly never believed the old dog was so quick at hearing.’But Susan replied, ‘I always told you our old dog was the best dog in the world–but as usual you thought you knew so much better. Men are the same all the world over.’And the fox scored a point too, for he had carried away the sausages himself!
The tide-water creek that forms the upper boundary of Manhattan Island is known to dwellers in tenements round about as “Spittin’ Divvle.” The proper name of it is Spuyten Duyvil, and this, in turn, is the compression of a celebrated boast by Anthony Van Corlaer. This redoubtable gentleman, famous for fat, long wind, and long whiskers, was trumpeter for the garrison at New Amsterdam, which his countrymen had just bought for twenty-four dollars, and he sounded the brass so sturdily that in the fight between the Dutch and Indians at the Dey Street peach orchard his blasts struck more terror into the red men’s hearts than did the matchlocks of his comrades. William the Testy vowed that Anthony and his trumpet were garrison enough for all Manhattan Island, for he argued that no regiment of Yankees would approach near enough to be struck with lasting deafness, as must have happened if they came when Anthony was awake.He plunged in, and had gone half-way across when the Evil One, not to be spited, appeared as a huge moss-bunker, vomiting boiling water and lashing a fiery tail. This dreadful fish seized Anthony by the leg; but the trumpeter was game, for, raising his instrument to his lips, he exhaled his last breath through it in a defiant blast that rang through the woods for miles and made the devil himself let go for a moment. Then he was dragged below, his nose shining through the water more and more faintly, until, at last, all sight of him was lost. The failure of his mission resulted in the downfall of the Dutch in America, for, soon after, the English won a bloodless victory, and St. George’s cross flaunted from the ramparts where Anthony had so often saluted the setting sun. But it was years, even then, before he was hushed, for in stormy weather it was claimed that the shrill of his trumpet could be heard near the creek that he had named, sounding above the deeper roar of the blast.
Rags Habakuk was going home. His day’s work was done. The sun was down. Street lamps began shining. Burglars were starting on their night’s work. It was no time for an honest ragman to be knocking on people’s back doors, saying, “Any rags?” or else saying, “Any rags? any bottles? any bones?” or else saying “Any rags? any bottles? any bones? any old iron? any copper, brass, old shoes all run down and no good to anybody to-day? any old 90clothes, old coats, pants, vests? I take any old clothes you got.”Yes, Rags Habakuk was going home. In the gunnysack bag on his back, humped up on top of the rag humps in the bag, was an old vest. It was the same old vest Jason Squiff threw out of a door at Rags Habakuk. In the pocket of the vest was the gold buckskin whincher with a power in it.Well, Rags Habakuk got home just like always, sat down to supper and smacked his mouth and had a big supper of fish, just like always. Then he went out to a shanty in the back yard and opened up the gunnysack rag bag and fixed things out classified just like every day when he came home he opened the gunnysack bag and fixed things out classified.The last thing of all he fixed out classified was the vest with the gold buckskin whincher in the pocket. “Put it on—it’s a glad rag,” he said, looking at the vest. “It’s a lucky vest.” So he put his right arm in the right armhole and 91his left arm in the left armhole. And there he was with his arms in the armholes of the old vest all fixed out classified new.Next morning Rags Habakuk kissed his wife g’by and his eighteen year old girl g’by and his nineteen year old girl g’by. He kissed them just like he always kissed them—in a hurry—and as he kissed each one he said, “I will be back soon if not sooner and when I come back I will return.”Yes, up the street went Rags Habakuk. And soon as he left home something happened. Standing on his right shoulder was a blue rat and standing on his left shoulder was a blue rat. The only way he knew they were there was by looking at them.There they were, close to his ears. He could feel the far edge of their whiskers against his ears.“This never happened to me before all the time I been picking rags,” he said. “Two blue rats stand by my ears and never say anything 92even if they know I am listening to anything they tell me.”So Rags Habakuk walked on two blocks, three blocks, four blocks, squinting with his right eye slanting at the blue rat on his right shoulder and squinting with his left eye slanting at the blue rat on his left shoulder.“If I stood on somebody’s shoulder with my whiskers right up in somebody’s ear I would say something for somebody to listen to,” he muttered.Of course, he did not understand it was the gold buckskin whincher and the power working. Down in the pocket of the vest he had on, the gold buckskin whincher power was saying, “Because you have two K’s in your name you must have two blue rats on your shoulders, one blue rat for your right ear, one blue rat for your left ear.”It was good business. Never before did Rags Habakuk get so much old rags.“Come again—you and your lucky blue rats,” people said to him. They dug into their cellars and garrets and brought him bottles and bones and copper and brass and old shoes and old clothes, coats, pants, vests.Every morning when he went up the street with the two blue rats on his shoulders, blinking their eyes straight ahead and chewing their whiskers so they sometimes tickled the ears of old Rags Habakuk, sometimes women came running out on the front porch to look at him and say, “Well, if he isn’t a queer old mysterious ragman and if those ain’t queer old mysterious blue rats!”All the time the gold buckskin whincher and the power was working. It was saying, “So long as old Rags Habakuk keeps the two blue rats he shall have good luck—but if he ever sells one of the blue rats then one of his daughters shall marry a taxicab driver—and if he ever sells the other blue rat then his other daughter shall marry a moving-picture hero actor.”Then terrible things happened. A circus man came. “I give you one thousand dollars spot cash money for one of the blue rats,” he expostulated with his mouth. “And I give you two thousand dollars spot cash money for the two of the blue rats both of them together.”“Show me how much spot cash money two thousand dollars is all counted out in one pile for one man to carry away home in his gunnysack rag bag,” was the answer of Rags Habakuk.The circus man went to the bank and came back with spot cash greenbacks money.“This spot cash greenbacks money is made from the finest silk rags printed by the national government for the national republic to make business rich and prosperous,” said the circus man, expostulating with his mouth.“T-h-e f-i-n-e-s-t s-i-l-k r-a-g-s,” he expostulated again holding two fingers under the nose of Rags Habakuk.“I take it,” said Rags Habakuk, “I take it. It is a whole gunnysack bag full of spot cash greenbacks money. I tell my wife it is printed by the national government for the national republic to make business rich and prosperous.”Then he kissed the blue rats, one on the right ear, the other on the left ear, and handed them over to the circus man.And that was why the next month his eighteen year old daughter married a taxicab driver who was so polite all the time to his customers that he never had time to be polite to his wife.And that was why his nineteen year old daughter married a moving-picture hero actor who worked so hard being nice and kind in the moving pictures that he never had enough left over for his wife when he got home after the day’s work.And the lucky vest with the gold buckskin whincher was stolen from Rags Habakuk by the taxicab driver.
There once lived a lad in old Ireland named Lusmore. He had a great hump on his back, and whenever he sat down he had to rest his chin on his knee for support. But, in spite of this, he was as happy as a cricket, and used to go about the country with a sprig of Fairy-cap, or Foxglove, in his little straw hat. He went from house to house plaiting baskets out of rushes, and in that way he earned a living. And he was so merry that people always gave him a penny more than he asked.One evening, he was returning from a distant town, and as he walked slowly on account of his hump, it grew dark before he could reach home. He came to an old mound by the side of the road, and, being tired, sat down on it to rest.He had not been sitting there long when he heard strains of music, and many little voices singing sweetly. He laid his ear to the mound, and perceived that the music and singing came from inside it. And he could hear the words that the little voices were chanting over and over again:—“Monday! Tuesday!Monday! Tuesday!Monday! Tuesday!”It was all so very sweet, that Lusmore listened with delight; but by and by he grew tired of hearing the same words sung over and over. He waited politely until the voices had finished their song, then he called:—“And Wednesday!”The Fairies—for it was the singing of Fairies that he heard—were so pleased with Lusmore’s addition to their words, that they pulled him right down through the top of the mound with the speed of a whirlwind. And he went falling and twirling round and round as light as a feather.He found himself in a palace so bright that it dazzled his eyes. Then all the Fairies stopped capering and dancing, and came crowding around him. And one, wearing a crown, stepped forward and said:—“Lusmore! Lusmore!The hump that you wore,On your back is no more.Look down on the floor,And see it, Lusmore!”And as these words were being said, Lusmore felt himself grow so light and happy, that he could have bounded up to the moon. And he saw his hump tumble off his back and roll on the floor. Then the Fairies took hands, and danced around him, and as they did so he became dizzy and fell asleep.When he opened his eyes it was broad daylight, and the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and cows and sheep were grazing peacefully around him. He put his hand to his hump. It was gone! And there he was, as tall, straight, and handsome as any other lad in Ireland. And, besides all that, he was dressed in a full suit of beautiful clothes.He went toward his home stepping out lightly, and jumping high at every step, so full of joy was he. And as he passed his neighbours, they hardly knew him without his hump, and because he was so straight and handsome, and was dressed so finely.Now, in another village, not far away, lived a lad named Jack Madden. He also had a great hump on his back. He was a peevish, cunning creature, and liked to scratch and pinch all who came near him.When he heard how the Fairies had taken away Lusmore’s hump, he decided that he, too, would visit them. So one night after darkness had fallen, he sat down on the mound all alone, and waited. He had not been there long before he heard the music, and the sweet voices singing:—“Monday! Tuesday!Monday! Tuesday!Monday! Tuesday!And Wednesday!”And as he was in a very great hurry to get rid of his hump, he did not wait for the Fairies to finish their song, but yelled out, thinking that two days were better than one:—“And Thursday and Friday!”No sooner had the words left his lips, than he was taken up quickly, and whisked through the mound with terrific force. And the Fairies came crowding around him, screeching and buzzing with anger, and crying out:—“Our song you have spoiled!Our song you have spoiled!Our song you have spoiled!”Then the one wearing the crown stepped forward, and said:—“Jack Madden! Jack Madden!Your words came so bad in,That your life we will sadden!Here’s two humps for Jack Madden!”And quick as a wink, twenty Fairies brought Lusmore’s hump and clapped it down on Jack Madden’s back, and there it was fixed as firmly as if nailed on with tenpenny nails.Then out of the mound they kicked him. And when morning was come, he crept home with the two humps on his back—and he is wearing them still.
Autumn nights on the upper Missouri river in Montana are indescribably beautiful, and under their spell imagination is a constant companion to him who lives in wilderness, lending strange, weird echoes to the voice of man or wolf, and unnatural shapes in shadow to commonplace forms.The moon had not yet climbed the distant mountain range to look down on the humbler lands when I started for War Eagle’s lodge; and dimming the stars in its course, the milky-way stretched across the jewelled sky. “The wolf’s trail,” the Indians call this filmy streak that foretells fair weather, and to-night it promised much, for it seemed plainer and brighter than ever before.“How—how!” greeted War Eagle, making the sign for me to be seated near him, as I entered his lodge. Then he passed me his pipe and together we smoked until the children came.Entering quietly, they seated themselves in exactly the same positions they had occupied on the previous evenings, and patiently waited in silence. Finally War Eagle laid the pipe away and said: “Ho! Little Buffalo Calf, throw a big stick on the fire and I will tell you why the Kingfisher wears a war-bonnet.”The boy did as he was bidden. The sparks jumped toward the smoke-hole and the blaze lighted up the lodge until it was bright as daytime, when War Eagle continued:“You have often seen Kingfisher at his fishing along the rivers, I know; and you have heard him laugh in his queer way, for he laughs a good deal when he flies. That same laugh nearly cost him his life once, as you will see. I am sure none could see the Kingfisher without noticing his great head-dress, but not many know how he came by it because it happened so long ago that most men have forgotten.“It was one day in the winter-time when OLD-man and the Wolf were hunting. The snow covered the land and ice was on all of the rivers. It was so cold that OLD-man wrapped his robe close about himself and his breath showed white in the air. Of course the Wolf was not cold; wolves never get cold as men do. Both OLD-man and the Wolf were hungry for they had travelled far and had killed no meat. OLD-man was complaining and grumbling, for his heart is not very good. It is never well to grumble when we are doing our best, because it will do no good and makes us weak in our hearts. When our hearts are weak our heads sicken and our strength goes away. Yes, it is bad to grumble.“When the sun was getting low OLD-man and the Wolf came to a great river. On the ice that covered the water, they saw four fat Otters playing.“‘There is meat,’ said the Wolf; ‘wait here and I will try to catch one of those fellows.’“‘No!—No!’ cried OLD-man, ‘do not run after the Otter on the ice, because there are air-holes in all ice that covers rivers, and you may fall in the water and die.’ OLD-man didn’t care much if the Wolf did drown. He was afraid to be left alone and hungry in the snow—that was all.“‘Ho!’ said the Wolf, ‘I am swift of foot and my teeth are white and sharp. What chance has an Otter against me? Yes, I will go,’ and he did.“Away ran the Otters with the Wolf after them, while OLD-man stood on the bank and shivered with fright and cold. Of course the Wolf was faster than the Otter, but he was running on the ice, remember, and slipping a good deal. Nearer and nearer ran the Wolf. In fact he was just about to seize an Otter, when SPLASH!—into an air-hole all the Otters went. Ho! the Wolf was going so fast he couldn’t stop, and SWOW! into the air-hole he went like a badger after mice, and the current carried him under the ice. The Otters knew that hole was there. That was their country and they were running to reach that same hole all the time, but the Wolf didn’t know that.“Old-man saw it all and began to cry and wail as women do. Ho! but he made a great fuss. He ran along the bank of the river, stumbling in the snowdrifts, and crying like a woman whose child is dead; but it was because he didn’t want to be left in that country alone that he cried—not because he loved his brother, the Wolf. On and on he ran until he came to a place where the water was too swift to freeze, and there he waited and watched for the Wolf to come out from under the ice, crying and wailing and making an awful noise, for a man.“Well—right there is where the thing happened. You see, Kingfisher can’t fish through the ice and he knows it, too; so he always finds places like the one OLD-man found. He was there that day, sitting on the limb of a birch-tree, watching for fishes, and when OLD-man came near to Kingfisher’s tree, crying like an old woman, it tickled the Fisher so much that he laughed that queer, chattering laugh.“OLD-man heard him and—Ho! but he was angry. He looked about to see who was laughing at him and that made Kingfisher laugh again, longer and louder than before. This time OLD-man saw him and SWOW! he threw his war-club at Kingfisher; tried to kill the bird for laughing. Kingfisher ducked so quickly that OLD-man’s club just grazed the feathers on his head, making them stand up straight.“‘There,’ said OLD-man, ‘I’ll teach you to laugh at me when I’m sad. Your feathers are standing up on the top of your head now and they will stay that way, too. As long as you live you must wear a head-dress, to pay for your laughing, and all your children must do the same.“This was long, long ago, but the Kingfishers have not forgotten, and they all wear war-bonnets, and always will as long as there are Kingfishers.“Now I will say good night, and when the sun sleeps again I will tell you why the curlew’s bill is so long and crooked. Ho!”
Once upon a time there lived a king who was so fond of wine that he could not go to sleep unless he knew he had a great flaskful tied to his bed-post. All day long he drank till he was too stupid to attend to his business, and everything in the kingdom went to rack and ruin. But one day an accident happened to him, and he was struck on the head by a falling bough, so that he fell from his horse and lay dead upon the ground.His wife and son mourned his loss bitterly, for, in spite of his faults, he had always been kind to them. So they abandoned the crown and forsook their country, not knowing or caring where they went.At length they wandered into a forest, and being very tired, sat down under a tree to eat some bread that they had brought with them. When they had finished the queen said: ‘My son, I am thirsty; fetch me some water.’The prince got up at once and went to a brook which he heard gurgling near at hand. He stooped and filled his hat with the water, which he brought to his mother; then he turned and followed the stream up to its source in a rock, where it bubbled out clear and fresh and cold. He knelt down to take a draught from the deep pool below the rock, when he saw the reflection of a sword hanging from the branch of a tree over his head. The young man drew back with a start; but in a moment he climbed the tree, cutting the rope which held the sword, and carried the weapon to his mother.The queen was greatly surprised at the sight of anything so splendid in such a lonely place, and took it in her hands to examine it closely. It was of curious workmanship, wrought with gold, and on its handle was written: ‘The man who can buckle on this sword will become stronger than other men.’ The queen’s heart swelled with joy as she read these words, and she bade her son lose no time in testing their truth. So he fastened it round his waist, and instantly a glow of strength seemed to run through his veins. He took hold of a thick oak tree and rooted it up as easily as if it had been a weed.This discovery put new life into the queen and her son, and they continued their walk through the forest. But night was drawing on, and the darkness grew so thick that it seemed as if it could be cut with a knife. They did not want to sleep in the wood, for they were afraid of wolves and other wild beasts, so they groped their way along, hand in hand, till the prince tripped over something which lay across the path. He could not see what it was, but stooped down and tried to lift it. The thing was very heavy, and he thought his back would break under the strain. At last with a great heave he moved it out of the road, and as it fell he knew it was a huge rock. Behind the rock was a cave which it was quite clear was the home of some robbers, though not one of the band was there.Hastily putting out the fire which burned brightly at the back, and bidding his mother come in and keep very still, the prince began to pace up and down, listening for the return of the robbers. But he was very sleepy, and in spite of all his efforts he felt he could not keep awake much longer, when he heard the sound of the robbers returning, shouting and singing as they marched along. Soon the singing ceased, and straining his ears he heard them discussing anxiously what had become of their cave, and why they could not see the fire as usual. ‘This must be the place,’ said a voice, which the prince took to be that of the captain. ‘Yes, I feel the ditch before the entrance. Someone forgot to pile up the fire before we left and it has burnt itself out! But it is all right. Let every man jump across, and as he does so cry out “Hop! I am here.” I will go last. Now begin.’The man who stood nearest jumped across, but he had no time to give the call which the captain had ordered, for with one swift, silent stroke of the prince’s sword, his head rolled into a corner. Then the young man cried instead, ‘Hop! I am here.’The second man, hearing the signal, leapt the ditch in confidence, and was met by the same fate, and in a few minutes eleven of the robbers lay dead, and there remained only the captain.Now the captain had wound round his neck the shawl of his lost wife, and the stroke of the prince’s sword fell harmless. Being very cunning, however, he made no resistance, and rolled over as if he were as dead as the other men. Still, the prince was no fool, and wondered if indeed he was as dead as he seemed to be; but the captain lay so stiff and stark, that at last he was taken in.The prince next dragged the headless bodies into a chamber in the cave, and locked the door. Then he and his mother ransacked the place for some food, and when they had eaten it they lay down and slept in peace.With the dawn they were both awake again, and found that, instead of the cave which they had come to the night before, they now were in a splendid castle, full of beautiful rooms. The prince went round all these and carefully locked them up, bidding his mother take care of the keys while he was hunting.Unfortunately, the queen, like all women, could not bear to think that there was anything which she did not know. So the moment that her son had turned his back, she opened the doors of all the rooms, and peeped in, till she came to the one where the robbers lay. But if the sight of the blood on the ground turned her faint, the sight of the robber captain walking up and down was a greater shock still. She quickly turned the key in the lock, and ran back to the chamber she had slept in.Soon after her son came in, bringing with him a large bear, which he had killed for supper. As there was enough food to last them for many days, the prince did not hunt the next morning, but, instead, began to explore the castle. He found that a secret way led from it into the forest; and following the path, he reached another castle larger and more splendid than the one belonging to the robbers. He knocked at the door with his fist, and said that he wanted to enter; but the giant, to whom the castle belonged, only answered: ‘I know who you are. I have nothing to do with robbers.’‘I am no robber,’ answered the prince. ‘I am the son of a king, and I have killed all the band. If you do not open to me at once I will break in the door, and your head shall go to join the others.’He waited a little, but the door remained shut as tightly as before. Then he just put his shoulder to it, and immediately the wood began to crack. When the giant found that it was no use keeping it shut, he opened it, saying: ‘I see you are a brave youth. Let there be peace between us.’And the prince was glad to make peace, for he had caught a glimpse of the giant’s beautiful daughter, and from that day he often sought the giant’s house.Now the queen led a dull life all alone in the castle, and to amuse herself she paid visits to the robber captain, who flattered her till at last she agreed to marry him. But as she was much afraid of her son, she told the robber that the next time the prince went to bathe in the river, he was to steal the sword from its place above the bed, for without it the young man would have no power to punish him for his boldness.The robber captain thought this good counsel, and the next morning, when the young man went to bathe, he unhooked the sword from its nail and buckled it round his waist. On his return to the castle, the prince found the robber waiting for him on the steps, waving the sword above his head, and knowing that some horrible fate was in store, fell on his knees and begged for mercy. But he might as well have tried to squeeze blood out of a stone. The robber, indeed, granted him his life, but took out both his eyes, which he thrust into the prince’s hand, saying brutally:‘Here, you had better keep them! You may find them useful!’Weeping, the blind youth felt his way to the giant’s house, and told him all the story.The giant was full of pity for the poor young man, but inquired anxiously what he had done with the eyes. The prince drew them out of his pocket, and silently handed them to the giant, who washed them well, and then put them back in the prince’s head. For three days he lay in utter darkness; then the light began to come back, till soon he saw as well as ever.But though he could not rejoice enough over the recovery of his eyes, he bewailed bitterly the loss of his sword, and that it should have fallen to the lot of his bitter enemy.‘Never mind, my friend,’ said the giant, ‘I will get it back for you.’ And he sent for the monkey who was his head servant.‘Tell the fox and the squirrel that they are to go with you, and fetch me back the prince’s sword,’ ordered he.The three servants set out at once, one seated on the back of the others, the ape, who disliked walking, being generally on top. Directly they came to the window of the robber captain’s room, the monkey sprang from the backs of the fox and the squirrel, and climbed in. The room was empty, and the sword hanging from a nail. He took it down, and buckling it round his waist, as he had seen the prince do, swung himself down again, and mounting on the backs of his two companions, hastened to his master. The giant bade him give the sword to the prince, who girded himself with it, and returned with all speed to the castle.‘Come out, you rascal! come out, you villain!’ cried he, ‘and answer to me for the wrong you have done. I will show you who is the master in this house!’The noise he made brought the robber into the room. He glanced up to where the sword usually hung, but it was gone; and instinctively he looked at the prince’s hand, where he saw it gleaming brightly. In his turn he fell on his knees to beg for mercy, but it was too late. As he had done to the prince, so the prince did to him, and, blinded, he was thrust forth, and fell down a deep hole, where he is to this day. His mother the prince sent back to her father, and never would see her again. After this he returned to the giant, and said to him:‘My friend, add one more kindness to those you have already heaped on me. Give me your daughter as my wife.’So they were married, and the wedding feast was so splendid that there was not a kingdom in the world that did not hear of it. And the prince never went back to his father’s throne, but lived peacefully with his wife in the forest, where, if they are not dead, they are living still.
O-way-way-ham-by-yoh a mother rabbit and her son Bunny Cottontail lived in a hole in Prairie-dog-town. One day Bunny Cottontail slipped away from home in search of something to eat. He hopped away across the hills, and across a deep arroyo. An arroyo is a deep dry ditch in dry weather; but whenever it rains the water rushes down the arroyo and makes it a deep river. Now when Bunny Cottontail hopped across the arroyo it was dry; but after he got across, the rain fell very hard and fast. You have seen how hard it can rain, sometimes, and how fast the water runs down the ditches. Well that is the way it rained when Bunny Cottontail hid under a sage brush bush to keep himself dry. He was so frightened, that as soon as the rain stopped falling he started back home as fast as he could run. But when Bunny Cottontail reached the arroyo he could not get across. It had turned into a big river.Poor Bunny Cottontail was cold and hungry. He wanted to go home to his mother. He was beginning to cry when a crane came along. The crane was walking in the water catching fish. He can take me across, thought Bunny Cottontail.“Good afternoon, Uncle Crane,” said Bunny Cottontail, “my mother was talking to me just yesterday about you. She says you are my uncle and belong to our tribe. I am so glad to meet you. Won’t you please take me across the water so that I can run and tell my mother I have seen you?”Now whenever two animals belong to the same tribe they have to help each other when either one gets into trouble. If the crane really belonged to Bunny Cottontail’s tribe, of course he had to take him across the arroyo. So the crane took Bunny Cottontail on his back and crossed the water.When they got across, Bunny Cottontail jumped down off the crane’s back, ran up the steep little hill and called back to the crane:“You are not my uncle. I just told you that to get a ride across the water.”And Bunny Cottontail ran home as fast as he could to keep the crane from catching him and giving him the spanking he deserved.Author Note: Hopi, 2nd Mesa
There was mourning in the house, sorrow in every heart. The youngest child, a boy four years old, the joy and hope of his parents, had died. There still remained to them two daughters, the elder of whom was about to be confirmed—good, charming girls both; but the child that one has lost always seems the dearest; and here it was the youngest, and a son. It was a heavy trial. The sisters mourned as young hearts can, and were especially moved at the sight of their parents’ sorrow. The father was bowed down, and the mother completely struck down by the great grief. Day and night she had been busy about the sick child, and had tended, lifted, and carried it; she had felt how it was a part of herself. She could not realize that the child was dead, and that it must be laid in a coffin and sleep in the ground. She thought God could not take this child from her; and when it was so, nevertheless, and there could be no more doubt on the subject, she said in her feverish pain:“God did not know it. He has heartless servants here on earth, who do according to their own liking, and hear not the prayers of a mother.”In her grief she fell away from God, and then there came dark thoughts, thoughts of death, of everlasting death, that man was but dust in the dust, and that with this life all was ended. But these thoughts gave her no stay, nothing on which she could take hold; and she sank into the fathomless abyss of despair.In her heaviest hours she could weep no more, and she thought not of the young daughters who were still left to her. The tears of her husband fell upon her forehead, but she did not look at him. Her thoughts were with the dead child; her whole thought and being were fixed upon it, to call back every remembrance of the little one, every innocent childish word it had uttered.The day of the funeral came. For nights before the mother had not slept; but in the morning twilight she now slept, overcome by weariness; and in the meantime the coffin was carried into a distant room, and there nailed down, that she might not hear the blows of the hammer.When she awoke, and wanted to see her child, the husband said,“We have nailed down the coffin. It was necessary to do so.”“When God is hard towards me, how should men be better?” she said, with sobs and groans.The coffin was carried to the grave. The disconsolate mother sat with her young daughters. She looked at her daughters, and yet did not see them, for her thoughts were no longer busy at the domestic hearth. She gave herself up to her grief, and grief tossed her to and fro as the sea tosses a ship without compass or rudder. So the day of the funeral passed away, and similar days followed, of dark, wearying pain. With moist eyes and mournful glances, the sorrowing daughters and the afflicted husband looked upon her who would not hear their words of comfort; and, indeed, what words of comfort could they speak to her, when they themselves were heavily bowed down?It seemed as though she knew sleep no more; and yet he would now have been her best friend, who would have strengthened her body, and poured peace into her soul. They persuaded her to seek her couch, and she lay still there, like one who slept. One night her husband was listening, as he often did, to her breathing, and fully believed that she had now found rest and relief. He folded his arms and prayed, and soon sank into a deep healthy sleep; and thus he did not notice that his wife rose, threw on her clothes, and silently glided from the house, to go where her thoughts always lingered—to the grave which held her child. She stepped through the garden of the house, and over the fields, where a path led to the churchyard. No one saw her on her walk—she had seen nobody, for her eyes were fixed upon the one goal of her journey.It was a lovely starlight night; the air was still mild; it was in the beginning of September. She entered the churchyard, and stood by the little grave, which looked like a great nosegay of fragrant flowers. She sat down, and bowed her head low over the grave, as if she could have seen her child through the intervening earth, her little boy, whose smile rose so vividly before her—the gentle expression of whose eyes, even on the sick bed, she could never forget. How eloquent had that glance been, when she had bent over him, and seized his delicate hand, which he had no longer strength to raise! As she had sat by his crib, so she now sat by his grave, but here her tears had free course, and fell thick upon the grave.“Thou wouldst gladly go down and be with thy child,” said a voice quite close to her, a voice that sounded so clear and deep, it went straight to her heart. She looked up; and near her stood a man wrapped in a black cloak, with a hood drawn closely down over his face. But she glanced keenly up, and saw his face under his hood. It was stern, but yet awakened confidence, and his eyes beamed with the radiance of youth.“Down to my child!” she repeated; and a despairing supplication spoke out of her words.“Darest thou follow me?” asked the form. “I am Death.”And she bowed her head in acquiescence. Then suddenly it seemed as though all the stars were shining with the radiance of the full moon; she saw the varied colours of the flowers on the grave, and the covering of earth was gradually withdrawn like a floating drapery; and she sank down, and the apparition covered her with a black cloak; night closed around her, the night of death, and she sank deeper than the sexton’s spade can penetrate; and the churchyard was as a roof over her head.A corner of the cloak was removed, and she stood in a great hall which spread wide and pleasantly around. It was twilight. But in a moment her child appeared, and was pressed to her heart, smiling at her in greater beauty than he had ever possessed. She uttered a cry, but it was inaudible. A glorious swelling strain of music sounded in the distance, and then near to her, and then again in the distance: never had such tones fallen on her ear; they came from beyond the great dark curtain which separated the hall from the great land of eternity beyond.“My sweet darling mother,” she heard her child say. It was the well-known, much-loved voice, and kiss followed kiss in boundless felicity; and the child pointed to the dark curtain.“It is not so beautiful on earth. Do you see, mother—do you see them all? Oh, that is happiness!”But the mother saw nothing which the child pointed out—nothing but the dark night. She looked with earthly eyes, and could not see as the child saw, which God had called to Himself. She could hear the sounds of the music, but she heard not the word—the Word in which she was to believe.“Oh, stay! stay!” entreated the mother. “Only one moment more—only once more I should wish to look at thee, and kiss thee, and press thee in my arms.”And she kissed and fondled the child. Then her name was called from above—called in a plaintive voice. What might this mean?“Hearest thou?” asked the child. “It is my father who calls thee.”And in a few moments deep sighs were heard, as of weeping children.“They are my sisters,” said the child. “Mother, you surely have not forgotten them?”And then she remembered those she had left behind. A great terror came upon her. She looked out into the night, and above her dim forms were flitting past. She seemed to recognize a few more of these. They floated through the Hall of Death towards the dark curtain, and there they vanished. Would her husband and her daughter thus flit past? No, their sighs and lamentations still sounded from above:—and she had been nearly forgetting them for the sake of him who was dead!“Mother, now the bells of heaven are ringing,” said the child. “Mother, now the sun is going to rise.”And an overpowering light streamed in upon her. The child had vanished, and she was borne upwards. It became cold round about her, and she lifted up her head, and saw that she was lying in the churchyard, on the grave of her child.But the Lord had been a stay unto her feet, in a dream, and a light to her spirit; and she bowed her knees and prayed for forgiveness that she had wished to keep back a soul from its immortal flight, and that she had forgotten her duties towards the living who were left to her.And when she had spoken those words, it was as if her heart were lightened. Then the sun burst forth, and over her head a little bird sang out, and the church bells sounded for early service. Everything was holy around her, and her heart was chastened. She acknowledged the goodness of God, she acknowledged the duties she had to perform, and eagerly she went home. She bent over her husband, who still slept; her warm devoted kiss awakened him, and heart-felt words of love came from the lips of both. And she was gentle and strong, as a wife can be; and from her came the consoling words,“God’s will is always the best.”Then her husband asked her,“From whence hast thou all at once derived this strength—this feeling of consolation?”And she kissed him, and kissed her children, and said, “They came from God, through the child in the grave.”
Two babies came one night in snowstorm weather, came to a tar paper shack on a cinder patch next the railroad yards on the edge of the Village of Liver-and-Onions. The family doctor came that night, came with a bird of a spizz car throwing a big spot- light of a headlight through the snow of the snowstorm on the prairie. “Twins,” said the doctor. “Twins,” said e father and mother. And the wind as it shook the tar paper shack and shook the doors and the padlocks on the doors of the tar paper shack, the wind seemed to be howling softly, “Twins, twins.” Six days and Christmas Eve came. The mother of the twins lit two candles, two little two-for-a-nickel candles in each little window. And the mother handed the father the twins and said, “Here are your Christmas presents.” The father took the two baby boys and laughed, “Twice times twice is twice.” The two little two-for-a-nickel candles sputtered in each little window that Christmas Eve, and at last sputtered and went out, leaving the prairies dark and lonesome. The father and the mother of the twins sat by the window, each one holding a baby. Every once in a while they changed babies so as to hold a different twin. And every time they changed they laughed at each other, “Twice times twice is twice.”One baby was called Googler, the other Gaggler. The two boys grew up, and hair came on their bald red heads. Their ears, wet behind, got dry. They learned how to pull on their stockings and shoes and tie their shoe- strings. They learned at last how to take a handkerchief and hold it open and blow their noses. Their father looked at them growing up and said, “I think you’ll make a couple of peanut-wagon men pouring hot butter into popcorn sacks.” The family doctor saw the rashes and the itches and the measles and the whooping cough come along one year and another. He saw the husky Googler and the husky Gaggler throw off the rashes and the itches and the measles and the whooping cough. And the family doctor said, “They will go far and see much, and they will never be any good for sitting with the sitters and knitting with the knitters.” Googler and Gaggler grew up and turned handsprings going to school in short pants, whistling with school books under their arms. They went barefooted and got stickers in their hair and teased cats and killed snakes and climbed apple trees and threw clubs up walnut trees and chewed slippery ellum.They stubbed their toes and cut their feet on broken bottles and went swimming in brickyard ponds and came home with their backs sunburnt so the skin peeled off. And before they went to bed every night they stood on their heads and turned flip-flops. One morning early in spring the young frogs were shooting silver spears of little new songs up into the sky. Strips of fresh young grass were beginning to flick the hills and spot the prairie with flicks and spots of new green. On that morning, Googler and Gaggler went to school with fun and danger and dreams in their eyes. They came home that day and told their mother, “There is a war between the pen wipers and the pencil sharpeners. Millions of pen wipers and millions of pencil sharpeners are marching against each other, marching and singing, Hay foot, strawfoot, bellyful o’ bean soup. The pen wipers and the pencil sharpeners, millions and millions, are marching with drums, drumming, Ta rum, ta rum, ta rum turn turn. The pen wipers say, No matter how many million ink spots it costs and no matter how many million pencil sharpeners we kill, we are going to kill and kill till the last of the pencil sharpeners is killed. The pencil sharpeners say, No matter how many million shavings it costs, no matter how many million pen wipers we kill, we are going to kill and kill till the last of the pen wipers is killed.”The mother of Googler and Gaggler lis- tened, her hands folded, her thumbs under her chin, her eyes watching the fun and the danger and the dreams in the eyes of the two boys. And she said, “Me, oh, my—but those pen wipers and pencil sharpeners hate each other.” And she turned her eyes toward the flicks and spots of new green grass coming on the hills and the prairie, and she let her ears listen to the young frogs shooting silver spears of little songs up into the sky that day. And she told her two boys, “Pick up your feet now and run. Go to the grass, go to the new green grass. Go to the young frogs and ask them why they are shooting songs up into the sky this early spring day. Pick up your feet now and run.”At last Googler and Gaggler were big boys, big enough to pick the stickers out of each other’s hair, big enough to pick up their feet and run away from anybody who chased them. One night they turned flip-flops and handsprings and climbed up on top of a peanut wagon where a man was pouring hot butter into popcorn sacks. They went to sleep on top of the wagon. Googler dreamed of teasing cats, killing snakes, climbing apple trees and stealing apples. Gaggler dreamed of swimming in brickyard ponds and coming home with his back sunburnt so the skin peeled off.They woke up with heavy gunnysacks in their arms. They climbed off the wagon and started home to their father and mother lugging the heavy gunnysacks on their backs. And they told their father and mother: “We ran away to the Thimble Country where the people wear thimble hats, where the women wash dishes in thimble dishpans, where the men go to work with thimble shovels. ‘We saw a war, the left-handed people against the right-handed. And the smoke- stacks did all the fighting. They all had monkey wrenches and they tried to wrench each other to pieces. And they had monkey aces on the monkey wrenches—to scare each other. “All the time they were fighting the Thimble people sat looking on, the thimble women with thimble dishpans, the thimble men with thimble shovels. They waved hand-kerchiefs to each other, some left-hand hand- kerchiefs, and some right-hand handkerchiefs. They sat looking till the smokestacks with their monkey wrenches wrenched each other all to pieces.” Then Googler and Gaggler opened the heavy gunnysacks. “Here,” they said, “here is a left-handed monkey wrench, here is a right-handed monkey wrench. And here is a monkey wrench with a monkey face on the handle—to scare with.” Now the father and mother of Googler and Gaggler wonder how they will end up. The family doctor keeps on saying, “They will go far and see much but they will never sit with the sitters and knit with the knitters.” And sometimes when their father looks at them, he says what he said the Christmas Eve when the two-for-a-nickel candles stood two by two in the windows, “Twice times twice is twice.”
“Ou’ Ta’,” said the eldest boy the next evening, as they waited at the kraal for the coming of the cows to the milking, “you never told us what Old Bobbyjohn said to Old Wolf that time when he stopped running away from Old Jackalse at last.”“No,” replied Old Hendrik, with a droll, droll leer; “an’ I’d hatto be a mighty sight smarter dan I ever ’members bein’ if I was to tell you dat. For when Ou’ Wolf stopped at last, den Ou’ Baviyàan yust looked at him; yust stopped an’ looked an’ untied his tail an’ crawled off. As you’ daddy ses—‘not a word, not a sound; not a whisper of a noise said he’. Ou’ Baviyàan yust saved it all up so he can tink it all over every time he see Ou’ Wolf agen. It’ll last him longer dat way.”“So then he went home an’ put poultices on his tail, I suppose,” suggested Annie, impatient for every detail of the tale that must lie in the curing of that tail.“Well, I dunno about no poultices on no tails,” returned Hendrik; “but a day or two ahter dat, Ou’ Jackalse was a-slinkin’ an’ a-slopin’ along de koppies, an’ yust as he come under a mispyl tree an’ tink he’s gun’ to have a rest an’ a look round, he gets a smack in de ribses wid one stone, biff! an’ anoder smack on de roots o’ de tail wid anoder, bash! An’, kleinkies, you should yust a-seen him streak it out o’ range o’ dat ole mispyl tree.“Den he stop an’ he look back, an’ dar he see Leelikie Baviyàan, Ou’ Baviyàan’s younges’ son, a-showin’ his head an’ shoul’ers out o’ de leaves o’ de mispyl, an’ a-yarkin’ an’ a-barkin’ at him. ‘Mighty smart you tinks you is, don’t you?’ snarls Leelikie. ‘But I’ll teach you to try tricks on de baviyàans,’ ses he.“When Ou’ Jackalse see it’s dat young squirt, he gets dat mad he feel like bitin’ a chunk out o’ de biggest stone he can reach. But he knows he ain’t a-gun’ to get even wid young Leelikie, ’less’n he sof’ soap him down. So he yust grins like he is mighty astonish’, an’ rubs his ribses like dey’s sore as billy-o. ‘Well,’ ses he, ‘what tricks is I ever played on you?’“‘None,’ ses Leelikie; ‘you bet you didn’t I’s too smart for no sich a fathead as you to play tricks on me. But you played one on my ole daddy, an’ I dropped in for it a lot worse troo him.’“‘How’s dat?’ ax Ou’ Jackalse, yust a-squirmin’ like he cahnt keep still for his ribs a-hurtin him.“‘Why, you rakes Ou’ Wolf till he cahnt stand no more o’ you, an’ den he gets my daddy to he’p him. An’ my ole daddy comes back wid his tail dat busted dat he cahnt on’y yust sit an’ nurse it an’ growl. An’ when he feel bad he alwiz wants gum, an’ he send me an’ my broder up de trees to get it. Den if I eats a bit myse’f, de ole daddy he shambok me till I has to fair yell enough to make him tink he’s killin’ me ’fore he’ll stop. Dat’s how.’“‘So all’s de matter wid you is you has to give up de gum dat you picks, is it?’ ses Ou’ Jackalse.“‘Dat’s it, an’ de shambokkin’s for eatin’ de leetle teenty bits I puts in my mouf,’ ses Leelikie.“‘Well, you is a nice ’un,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, a-sneerin’ like. ‘Why, if dat was me, I’d eat all de gum I picked an’ still give de ole daddy all he wanted as well. I heerd you say you was mighty smart, but ahter dat,—well, I’d be ashamed o’ myse’f if I wasn’t smarter dan dat.’“De way Ou’ Jackalse stick his nose up fair rile Leelikie. ‘Yis,’ ses he. ‘I hear you talk a lot, but I bet you cahnt show me how dat’s done.’“‘An’ I bet I cahnt needer—not as soft as dat,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse. ‘You don’t get me as cheap as dat. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You come here to-morrow an’ you bring me some gum, nice clear gum, an’ den I’ll tell you how to do, so’s you’ll have all de gum you wants for yourse’f, an’ leave all de shambokkins to your broder.’“‘Shambokkins to my broder!’ sings out Leelikie. ‘Oh, dat’s de right-o tip. You come, an’ I’ll be here wid de gum, don’t forget.’“‘I won’t,’ ses Jackalse, an’ off he go, a-winkin’ to every bush as he pass it.“Well, come next day, dere was young Leelikie up in de mispyl tree, an’ dere was Ou’ Jackalse at de foot of it lookin’ up. ‘Now, what’s dis game you’s goin’ to tell me?’ ses Leelikie.“‘Where’s de gum first?’ ses Ou’ Jackalse.“‘Here’s it,’ ses Leelikie, showin’ it. ‘Let’s hear de plan now.’“‘Ho! you gi’e me de gum first so’s I’ll know it’s good gum,’ ses Jackalse.“‘Oh, I’ll soon show you dat,’ ses Leelikie. ‘See me!’ an’ he bite off a big piece o’ de gum, an’ he smack, smacks wid his mouf like an ox team pullin’ its feets out o’ deep mud.“Dat rile Ou’ Jackalse terr’ble. ‘Ho! yeh!’ shout he. ‘What’s you a-eatin’ up my gum for?’“‘’Cause you ses it ain’t good; I’s yust a-showin’ you how good it is,’ ses Leelikie, rollin’ his eyes at de rest of it. ‘’Sides, it ain’t you’ gum till you tells me dis plan you bargain to, yestiday.’“‘Ain’t I likely to tell you ’fore I gets de gum!’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, like he’d like to ketch hisse’f doin’ any sich a fool trick.“‘An’ ain’t I likely to let you have dis gum ’fore you’s told me de trick!’ ses Leelikie leerin’.“‘Ho, dat’s de game, is it? Den I tink I’d better go ’long an’ find you’ broder—he won’t want to cheat me,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, an’ he make as if he’s a-gun’ to slope right off out o’ dat. He tinks dat’s gun’ to fetch young Leelikie to time.“But—‘Oh, dat’s all right,’ ses Leelikie. ‘I can knock de pips off him any day, an make him tell me too. You go on, an’ den I’ll have dis gum to myse’f. Dat’s so much ahead anyhow.’“Ou’ Jackalse stops, an’ his eye look sort o’ longin’. ‘Den you ain’t a-gun’ to trust me?’ ses he, as if dat’s de last word he’s gun’ to say.“‘Look a-hyer, Oom Jackalse,’ ses Leelikie. ‘I has dis gum a’ready. I can see it, an’ I knows it’s good. But I hasn’t got what you wants to give fo’ it, an’ I can’t see it, an’ I don’t know if it’s good. So I tink I’ll make sure o’ what I has,’ ses he, openin’ his mouf wide an’ lettin’ his tongue flop up an’ down, while he holds de gum a little way off his eye wid de one hand and rub his tummy wid de oder. ‘Yum, yum, yum,’ ses he.“‘Well,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, as if he yust couldn’ he’p it. ‘You is a bright sort, you is, by de jimminy!’“Young Leelikie he grin back like he tinks a lot o’ dat ‘Allah Crachty!’ ses he, ‘won’t my ole mammy be pleased to hear dat.’“Ou’ Jackalse sees he’s on de wrong side de fence dis time. ‘Well, I s’pose we’ll ha’ to do sometin’,’ ses he. ‘Now, you put de gum dere on dat stone at de tree root an’ I’ll stand off here an’ tell you.’“‘Right-o,’ ses Leelikie. ‘Here’s de gum,’ an’ he swings down an’ plants it on de stone—but he don’t leave it.“‘By jimminy!’ ses Ou’ Jackalse at dat. But he sees he’s on de spike a’ right, an’ he’ll hatto be honest if he’s a-gun’ to get dat gum. So he up an’ tell young Leelikie how he done wid Ou’ Wolf an’ de bessie berries when de Mensefreiter had ’em. ‘All you has to do den,’ ses he, ‘when you goes up into de tree wid you’ broder, is to eat all de gum you picks you’se’f an’ den swop you’ calabas’ fo’ his when he ain’t lookin’. Den you’ll be all right, an’ he’ll get de shambokkin, when you takes de calabashes down to you’ daddy.’“‘Dat do sound mighty smart,’ ses Leelikie, like he’s admirin’ it immense. ‘But’—an’ yust as Ou’ Jackalse is makin’ one fair ole dive for him an’ de gum, he grabs it up an’ skips right up into de tree agen.“Ou’ Jackalse look up at him, an he look down at Ou’ Jackalse. ‘T’ank you, Oom,’ ses he. ‘Here I t’ought I’d ha’ to pay dis gum for you tellin’ me sometin’, but now—well, now, I’ll scoff it myse’f.’“Ou’ Jackalse yust had his mouf open to shout like mad when he see de gum go up de tree, but dat last words o’ young Leelikie ’stonish him dat much he stop right short. ‘What’s dat little lot fo’?’ ses he.“‘What fo’? Oh, for instance,’ ses young Leelikie, bitin’ at de gum till de clear part run all down his chin.“Ou’ Jackalse down below fair ramp on his hind legs agen at dat. ‘Didn’t I tell you what I said I’d tell you, you skellum?’“‘Did you, billy-o!’ ses Leelikie, bitin’ some more gum. ‘You said you’d tell me how to get me all de gum an’ my broder all de shambokkins. But my broder ain’t no fool, Ou’ Wolf: dere ain’t no time when he ain’t a-lookin’, so dere ain’t no changin’ calabashes wid him. He’s yust as smart as rock aloes, an’ he’d about knock all de hair off me de first time I tried it. So here eats de gum I’s got an’ chance it fo more.’“‘Didn’ you say you could knock de pips off him any day?’ shouts Ou’ Jackalse.“‘Yes; but didn’ you notice dat he wahnt anywhere in hearin’ when I said it?’ ses Leelikie.“‘Well, I’s got you, anyway,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse. ‘You’ll ha’ to come down out o’ dat tree sometime, an’ here I’ll be ready.’“‘Dat’s yust all right,’ ses Leelikie. ‘My daddy an’ de rest o’ de baviyàans is comin’ dis way in a bit. Den p’r’aps you’ll stop some more dan you want to.’“Ou’ Jackalse skip roun’ to look, an’ dere he ketch a glimp’ o’ de ruffy ole, snappy ole scout dat leads de baviyàans when dey’s feedin. An’ didn’ Ou’ Jackalse get out o’ dat, dat’s all.“Well, he slink off over de rise an’ sit him down to tink how he’s a-gun’ to get even wid young Leelikie. But young Leelikie he yust swings down out o’ de mispyl tree an’ slants off to de rest o’ de baviyàans, an’ ’gins to turn over de stones fo’ scorpions an’ tarantulas an’ all de rest o’ de tit-bits de baviyàans likes.“By’n’by dey comes to a place where dere’s some big ole Doorn trees, fair sticky wid de gum runnin’ out o’ ’em. Young Leelikie he looks up at de gum an’ he looks at his daddy, an’ he tinks here’s yust a good ole chance fo’ gum if he can work it. Den he tink an’ he study an’ he won’er, till at last he smack hisse’f in de ribses—he’s got it.“‘Daddy,’ ses he to Ou’ Baviyàan, ‘you’d like to get a chance at darie Ou’ Jackalse, wouldn’ you?’“‘Wouldn’ I yust,’ ses his daddy, his eyes fair shinin’ red.“‘Well, daddy,’ ses young Leelikie, an’ he look as slim as nex’ week, ‘here’s you’ chance. You sees all dis gum; now if you gets it all an’ smears it all over me, yards t’ick, an’ den gi’es me a big ole lump of it in my hand an’ sets me on a stone in de sun, while all de rest o’ you feed away till you gets over de rise; well, I’ll soon get Ou’ Jackalse for you.’“‘How’ll you do dat?’ ax de ole daddy, sort o’ tryin’ to guess where de young fella’s tryin’ to sell him.“‘You’ll see a’ right enough, if you watches,’ ses Leelikie. ‘An’ you’ll ha’ to watch like t’ieves, an’ come a-scootin’ an’ a-boundin’ when I shouts. Dere won’t be no time to catch tings out o’ you’ tail on de way.’“Well, Ou’ Baviyàan he look at young Baviyàan, an’ he weigh it all up an’ he won’er, an’ while he’s a-doin’ dat young Leelikie sort o’ knock up against dat sore tail of his daddy’s. Dat settle it. Ou’ Baviyàan he wants Ou’ Jackalse, an he wants him very bad, an if de young fella tinks he knows of a plan—why, he’s about as smart a young baviyàan as dere is in de koppies, so he’ll let him try anyway.“So dey gets all dis gum, sticky ole gum, an’ dey rubs it into young Leelikie’s hair, an’ dey daubs an’ dey plasters an’ dey piles it on till at last he’s yust dat tick wid de gum he cahnt stir. Den dey sits him nice an’ comfy on a nice big stone, an’ dey puts a whackin’ ole chunk o’ half baked gum in his hand in front of his mouth, an’ dere dey leaves him.“Now dis is de time young Leelikie ’xpected to get in his work on de gum. He reckoned he’d be yust wolfin’ down dat gum, first de big chunk in his hand an’ nex’ to scrape hisse’f clean o’ what’s on him. But ole sun had a say in dis f’m above, an’ de hot stone had a say in it f’m below, till ’fore de rest o’ de baviyàans had got out o’ sight, de gum was dat sticky dat he couldn’ stir hand or leg; not so much as wiggle his head. An’ dar’s Ou’ Jackalse a-creepin’ an’ a-peepin’ an’ a-watchin’ him.“For Ou’ Jackalse he’d bin yust dat mad he’d follo’d on ahter de baviyàans, yust as young Leelikie made de rest tink he would. But Leelikie ha’n’t reckoned he was a-gun’ to be stuck like dis. He’d reckoned he’d be finis’ eatin’ de gum while Ou’ Jackalse ’ud be waitin’ for de rest to get far enough off, an’ dat ’ud give him yust de right time to be skippin’ back out o dat. Whereas—here he wuz.“An’ here was Ou’ Jackalse too, yust a-dancin’ an a-prancin’. ‘I’s got you dis time!’ ses he. ‘I’s got you at last, gum an’ all! Won’t I yust teach you!’“Young Leelikie nearly busted a-tryin’ to loose hisse’f, an’ when Ou’ Jackalse seen how fast he was, he yust sit down an’ open his mouf an’ lick his chops. ‘Look at my teef,’ ses he. ‘Now I has you!’“Young Leelikie tried to let a yell out o’ him for his daddy to come an’ he’p him, but his yaws was yust dat bunged up wid gum dere wahnt no openin’ dem needer. ‘Oh, ain’t you nice an’ fat,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, watchin’ him an’ grinnin’. ‘Yust feel here where I’s gun’ to take de first bite,’ ses he, an’ he digs young Leelikie in de ribs wid his right han’.“But yust about dat time he cahnt pull dat hand away to dig young Leelikie somewhere else. ‘You make los’ my hand,’ ses he, mighty snappy; ‘make it los’, or I’ll biff de pips off you,’ ses he, an’ he smacks his toder hand agen Leelikie’s ribses to give him a stand to get de oder away. An’ right dere dat’s fast too.“Ou’ Jackalse’s years begin to stick up. ‘Allah Crachty!’ ses he, ‘if you don’t make los’ my fisties I’ll yust knock seven kinds o’ chicken feed out o’ you. Make los’, you skellum!’“But young Leelikie on’y wished he could make los’, or do anytin’ else but yust sit an’ say nawtin’, an’ wish his daddy was comin’. Den Ou’ Jackalse’s eyes begin to stick out wid ’fraid o’ dis baviyàankie dat holds him an’ ses nawtin’. He tinks if he don’t get his hands loose sometin’s a-gun’ to happen, ‘By de jimminy!’ ses he, grindin’ his teef, ‘if you don’t lemme los’ dis minute, I’ll bite you’ bally head off!’“Wid dat he makes a reg’lar dive, teef first, to scoff young Leelikie’s head off, but he’s in such a sweat he grabs de chunk o’ gum in de hand instead, an dere he is, bofe hands fast an’ his head fast, an’ here’s Ou’ Baviyàan and Leelikie’s broder yust a flyin’ dis way now dey’s got Ou’ Jackalse fast.“Ou’ Jackalse sees ’em comin’ an’ he hears ’em car-rackin’ an’ bar-rackin’, an’ he yust puts every hair o’ him into one mighty ole wrench or else he’s done for. Sometin’ had to come—sometin’ did—de seat o’ young Leelikie’s hide. For Ou’ Jackalse gi’en such a terr’ble ole yank, an’ de stone set back wid such a terr’ble ole stick fast, dat young Leelikie flew one way wid Ou’ Jackalse, an’ de seat of his hide stayed de oder way wid de gum on de stone; tore off wid a rip like a yard o’ calico.“De stone yust sot tight an’ shined like he’s smilin’, but Ou’ Jackalse he whirraloo round dere like a fireworks. An’ about dat time Ou’ Baviyàan an’ de oder young baviyàankie made deir dive for him.“Well, you never did see no sich a mix up. For Ou’ Jackalse he see dat dive yust in time, an’ he yanks tings round so dey dives not into him but into young Leelikie, an’ dere dey is, yust as fast as he is, an’ all pullin’ de roots out to get loose agen in different d’rections.“But it he’p Ou’ Jackalse all de same. Two o’ dem pullin’ dat way an’ him pullin’ dis, de two o’ dem was boun’ to be strongest, an’ dey gi’es one Allah Crachty of a yank till dey fair tears—not demselves, but young Leelikie, loose from Ou’ Jackalse. An’ you can see to dis day how all de long hair was tore off his paws an’ his yaws so bad it never grow long any more,” ended Old Hendrik solemnly.“Oh, but,” protested Annie, “what happened then when Ou’ Jackalse got loose?”“Why dere wahnt nawtin’ to happen,” returned Old Hendrik in a little astonishment. “Ou’ Jackalse was loose, dat was what he was ahter, so he went home an’ sit down. But Ou’ Baviyàan he was yust dat proud o’ young Leelikie bein’ so smart as to ketch Ou’ Jackalse dat way, dat it set de fashion to leave de seat o’ you’ hide on a gummy stone, an’ dat’s how it comes dat all de baviyàans has a cobbler’s patch to sit down on nowadays. It ain’t for pretty but for proud dey wears it.“So now you knows why,” ended Old Hendrik solemnly.
Once upon a time there lived a peasant called Ivan, and he had a wife whose name was Marie. They would have been quite happy except for one thing: they had no children to play with, and as they were now old people they did not find that watching the children of their neighbours at all made up to them for having one of their own.One winter, which nobody living will ever forget, the snow lay so deep that it came up to the knees of even the tallest man. When it had all fallen, and the sun was shining again, the children ran out into the street to play, and the old man and his wife sat at their window and gazed at them. The children first made a sort of little terrace, and stamped it hard and firm, and then they began to make a snow woman. Ivan and Marie watched them, the while thinking about many things.Suddenly Ivan’s face brightened, and, looking at his wife, he said, ‘Wife, why shouldn’t we make a snow woman too?’‘Why not?’ replied Marie, who happened to be in a very good temper; ‘it might amuse us a little. But there is no use making a woman. Let us make a little snow child, and pretend it is a living one.’‘Yes, let us do that,’ said Ivan, and he took down his cap and went into the garden with his old wife.Then the two set to work with all their might to make a doll out of the snow. They shaped a little body and two little hands and two little feet. On top of all they placed a ball of snow, out of which the head was to be.‘What in the world are you doing?’ asked a passer-by.‘Can’t you guess?’ returned Ivan.‘Making a snow-child,’ replied Marie.They had finished the nose and the chin. Two holes were left for the eyes, and Ivan carefully shaped out the mouth. No sooner had he done so than he felt a warm breath upon his cheek. He started back in surprise and looked–and behold! the eyes of the child met his, and its lips, which were as red as raspberries, smiled at him!‘What is it?’ cried Ivan, crossing himself. ‘Am I mad, or is the thing bewitched?’The snow-child bent its head as if it had been really alive. It moved its little arms and its little legs in the snow that lay about it just as the living children did theirs.‘Ah! Ivan, Ivan,’ exclaimed Marie, trembling with joy, ‘heaven has sent us a child at last!’ And she threw herself upon Snowflake (for that was the snow-child’s name) and covered her with kisses. And the loose snow fell away from Snowflake as an egg shell does from an egg, and it was a little girl whom Marie held in her arms.‘Oh! my darling Snowflake!’ cried the old woman, and led her into the cottage.And Snowflake grew fast; each hour as well as each day made a difference, and every day she became more and more beautiful. The old couple hardly knew how to contain themselves for joy, and thought of nothing else. The cottage was always full of village children, for they amused Snowflake, and there was nothing in the world they would not have done to amuse her. She was their doll, and they were continually inventing new dresses for her, and teaching her songs or playing with her. Nobody knew how clever she was! She noticed everything, and could learn a lesson in a moment. Anyone would have taken her for thirteen at least! And, besides all that, she was so good and obedient; and so pretty, too! Her skin was as white as snow, her eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, and her hair was long and golden. Only her cheeks had no colour in them, but were as fair as her forehead.So the winter went on, till at last the spring sun mounted higher in the heavens and began to warm the earth. The grass grew green in the fields, and high in the air the larks were heard singing. The village girls met and danced in a ring, singing, ‘Beautiful spring, how came you here? How came you here? Did you come on a plough, or was it a harrow?’ Only Snowflake sat quite still by the window of the cottage.‘What is the matter, dear child?’ asked Marie. ‘Why are you so sad? Are you ill? or have they treated you unkindly?’‘No,’ replied Snowflake, ‘it is nothing, mother; no one has hurt me; I am well.’The spring sun had chased away the last snow from its hiding place under the hedges; the fields were full of flowers; nightingales sang in the trees, and all the world was gay. But the gayer grew the birds and the flowers the sadder became Snowflake. She hid herself from her playmates, and curled herself up where the shadows were deepest, like a lily amongst its leaves. Her only pleasure was to lie amid the green willows near some sparkling stream. At the dawn and at twilight only she seemed happy. When a great storm broke, and the earth was white with hail, she became bright and joyous as the Snowflake of old; but when the clouds passed, and the hail melted beneath the sun, Snowflake would burst into tears and weep as a sister would weep over her brother.The spring passed, and it was the eve of St. John, or Midsummer Day. This was the greatest holiday of the year, when the young girls met in the woods to dance and play. They went to fetch Snowflake, and said to Marie: ‘Let her come and dance with us.’But Marie was afraid; she could not tell why, only she could not bear the child to go. Snowflake did not wish to go either, but they had no excuse ready. So Marie kissed the girl and said: ‘Go, my Snowflake, and be happy with your friends, and you, dear children, be careful of her. You know she is the light of my eyes to me.’‘Oh, we will take care of her,’ cried the girls gaily, and they ran off to the woods. There they wore wreaths, gathered nosegays, and sang songs some sad, some merry. And whatever they did Snowflake did too.When the sun set they lit a fire of dry grass, and placed themselves in a row, Snowflake being the last of all. ‘Now, watch us,’ they said, ‘and run just as we do.’And they all began to sing and to jump one after another across the fire.Suddenly, close behind them, they heard a sigh, then a groan. ‘Ah!’ They turned hastily and looked at each other. There was nothing. They looked again. Where was Snowflake? She has hidden herself for fun, they thought, and searched for her everywhere. ‘Snowflake! Snowflake!’ But there was no answer. ‘Where can she be? Oh, she must have gone home.’ They returned to the village, but there was no Snowflake.For days after that they sought her high and low. They examined every bush and every hedge, but there was no Snowflake. And long after everyone else had given up hope Ivan and Marie would wander through the woods crying ‘Snowflake, my dove, come back, come back!’ And sometimes they thought they heard a call, but it was never the voice of Snowflake.And what had become of her? Had a fierce wild beast seized her and dragged her into his lair in the forest? Had some bird carried her off across the wide blue sea?No, no beast had touched her, no bird had borne her away. With the first breath of flame that swept over her when she ran with her friends Snowflake had melted away, and a little soft haze floating upwards was all that remained of her.
A party of red-winged blackbirds were frolicking on the ice one winter day. They were laughing, skating and singing and having the gayest time.“Upon the ice we jump and skate.It crackles under all our weight.Our red shoulders shine and glow.And now together away we go.Ong-yes-suhru.”And across the ice they skated together when they sang ong-yes-suhru.Mr. Coyote heard their singing, so he trotted over to the ice.“Let me skate with you, Blackbirds,” he said.“Oh, no one can skate with us who hasn’t red shoulders,” they answered. “You will have to get a sharp stone and cut your shoulders so that the blood will make them red, before you can skate with us.”So Mr. Coyote took a sharp stone and gashed both of his shoulders until the blood ran out and stained them red.“Now I have pretty red shoulders, too. Now I can skate with you.”“Oh no, not unless you can sing our song,” they said.Mr. Coyote tried to sing in his big deep voice; and dashed out on the ice beside the blackbirds.The blackbirds flew away. They knew that Mr. Coyote only wanted to catch them to eat them up. And Mr. Coyote was so angry when they flew away, that he ran along the ice clawing at the blackbirds’ shadows, until his feet were torn and bleeding and he had to give up the chase.Author Note: San Ildefonso Pueblo
There was once upon a time a King who had no children. Now this King went and laid him down to rest at a place where four roads met, so that every one who passed had to step over him.At last a Fakir came along, and he said to the King, “Man, why are you lying here?”He replied, “Fakir, a thousand men have come and passed by; you pass on too.”But the Fakir said, “Who are you, man?”The King replied, “I am a King, Fakir. Of goods and gold I have no lack, but I have lived long and have no children. So I have come here, and have laid me down at the cross-roads. My sins and offences have been very many, so I have come and am lying here that men may pass over me, and perchance my sins may be forgiven me, and God may be merciful, and I may have a son.”The Fakir answered him, “Oh King! If you have children, what will you give me?”“Whatever you ask, Fakir,” answered the King. The Fakir said, “Of goods and gold I have no lack, but I will say a prayer for you, and you will have two sons; one of those sons will be mine.”Then he took out two sweetmeats and handed them to the King, and said, “King! take these two sweetmeats and give them to your wives; give them to the wives you love best.”The King took the sweetmeats and put them in his bosom.Then the Fakir said, “King! in a year I will return, and of the two sons who will be born to you one is mine and one yours.”The King said, “Well, I agree.”Then the Fakir went on his way, and the King came home and gave one sweetmeat to each of his two wives. After some time two sons were born to the King. Then what did the King do but place those two sons in an underground room, which he had built in the earth.Some time passed, and one day the Fakir appeared, and said, “King! bring me that son of yours!”What did the King do but bring two slave-girls’ sons and present them to the Fakir. While the Fakir was sitting there the King’s sons were sitting down below in their cellar eating their food. Just then a hungry ant had carried away a grain of rice from their food, and was going along with it to her children. Another stronger ant came up and attacked her in order to get this grain of rice. The first ant said, “O ant, why do you drag this away from me? I have long been lame in my feet, and I have got just one grain, and am carrying it to my children. The King’s sons are sitting in the cellar eating their food; you go and fetch a grain from there; why should you take mine from me?” On this the second ant let go and did not rob the first, but went off to where the King’s sons were eating their food.On hearing this the Fakir said, “King! these are not your sons; go and bring those children who are eating their food in the cellar.”Then the King went and brought his own sons. The Fakir chose the eldest son and took him away, and set off with him on his journey, When he got home he told the King’s son to go out to gather fuel.So the King’s son went out to gather cow-dung, and when he had collected some he brought it in.Then the Fakir looked at the King’s son and put on a great pot, and said, “Come round here, my pupil.”But the King’s son said, “Master first, and pupil after.”The Fakir told him to come once, he told him twice, he told him three times, and each time the King’s son answered, “Master first, and pupil after.”Then the Fakir made a dash at the King’s son, thinking to catch him and throw him into the caldron. There were about a hundred gallons of oil in this caldron, and the fire was burning beneath it. Then the King’s son, lifting the Fakir, gave him a jerk and threw him into the caldron, and he was burnt, and became roast meat. He then saw a key of the Fakir’s lying there; he took this key and opened the door of the Fakir’s house. Now many men were locked up in this house; two horses were standing there in a hut of the Fakir’s; two greyhounds were tied up there; two simurgs were imprisoned, and two tigers also stood there. So the King’s son let all the creatures go, and took them out of the house, and they all returned thanks to God. Next he let out all the men who were in prison. He took away with him the two horses, and he took away the two tigers, and he took away the two hounds, and he took away the two simurgs, and with them he set out for another country.As he went along the road he saw above him a bald man, grazing a herd of calves, and this bald man called out to him, “Fellow! can you fight at all?”The King’s son replied, “When I was little I could fight a bit, and now, if any one wants to fight, I am not so unmanly as to turn my back. Come, I will fight you.”The bald man said, “If I throw you, you shall be my slave; and if you throw me, I will be your slave.” So they got ready and began to fight, and the King’s son threw him.On this the King’s son said, “I will leave my beasts here, my simurgs, tigers, and dogs, and horses; they will all stay here while I go to the city to see the sights. I appoint the tiger as guard over my property. And you are my slave, you, too, must stay here with my belongings.” So the King’s son started off to the city to see the sights, and arrived at a pool.He saw that it was a pleasant pool, and thought he would stop and bathe there, and therewith he began to strip off his clothes.Now the King’s daughter, who was sitting on the roof of the palace, saw his royal marks, and she said, “This man is a king; when I marry, I will marry him and no other.” So she said to her father, “My father; I wish to marry.”“Good,” said her father.Then the King made a proclamation: “Let all men, great and small, attend to-day in the hall of audience, for the King’s daughter will to- day take a husband.”All the men of the land assembled, and the traveller Prince also came, dressed in the Fakir’s clothes, saying to himself, “I must see this ceremony to-day.” He went in and sat down.The King’s daughter came out and sat in the balcony, and cast her glance round all the assembly. She noticed that the traveller Prince was sitting in the assembly in Fakir’s attire.The Princess said to her handmaiden, “Take this dish of henna, go to that traveller dressed like a Fakir, and sprinkle scent on him from the dish.”The handmaiden obeyed the Princess’s order, went to him, and sprinkled the scent over him.Then the people said, “The slave-girl has made a mistake.”But she replied, “The slave-girl has made no mistake, ’tis her mistress has made the mistake.”On this the King married his daughter to the Fakir, who was really noFakir, but a Prince.What fate had decreed came to pass in that country, and they were married. But the King of that city became very sad in his heart, because when so many chiefs and nobles were sitting there his daughter had chosen none of them, but had chosen that Fakir; but he kept these thoughts concealed in his heart.One day the traveller Prince said, “Let all the King’s sons-in-law come out with me to-day to hunt.”People said, “What is this Fakir that he should go a-hunting?”However, they all set out for the hunt, and fixed their meeting-place at a certain pool.The newly married Prince went to his tigers, and told his tigers and hounds to kill and bring in a great number of gazelles and hog-deer and markhor. Instantly they killed and brought in a great number. Then taking with him these spoils of the chase, the Prince came to the pool settled on as a meeting-place. The other Princes, sons-in-law of the King of that city, also assembled there; but they had brought in no game, and the new Prince had brought a great deal. Thence they returned home to the town, and went to the King their father-in-law, to present their game.Now that King had no son. Then the new Prince told him that in fact he, too, was a Prince. At this the King, his father-in-law, was greatly delighted and took him by the hand and embraced him. He seated him by himself, saying, “O Prince, I return thanks that you have come here and become my son-in-law; I am very happy at this, and I make over my kingdom to you.”
There was once a rich old man who had two sons, and as his wife was dead, the elder lived with him, and helped him to look after his property. For a long time all went well; the young man got up very early in the morning, and worked hard all day, and at the end of every week his father counted up the money they had made, and rubbed his hands with delight, as he saw how big the pile of gold in the strong iron chest was becoming. ‘It will soon be full now, and I shall have to buy a larger one,’ he said to himself, and so busy was he with the thought of his money, that he did not notice how bright his son’s face had grown, nor how he sometimes started when he was spoken to, as if his mind was far away.One day, however, the old man went to the city on business, which he had not done for three years at least. It was market day, and he met with many people he knew, and it was getting quite late when he turned into the inn yard, and bade an ostler saddle his horse, and bring it round directly. While he was waiting in the hall, the landlady came up for a gossip, and after a few remarks about the weather and the vineyards she asked him how he liked his new daughter-in-law, and whether he had been surprised at the marriage.The old man stared as he listened to her. ‘Daughter-in-law? Marriage?’ said he. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about! I’ve got no daughter-in-law, and nobody has been married lately, that I ever heard of.’Now this was exactly what the landlady, who was very curious, wanted to find out; but she put on a look of great alarm, and exclaimed:‘Oh, dear! I hope I have not made mischief. I had no idea–or, of course, I would not have spoken–but’–and here she stopped and fumbled with her apron, as if she was greatly embarrassed.‘As you have said so much you will have to say a little more,’ retorted the old man, a suspicion of what she meant darting across him; and the woman, nothing loth, answered as before.‘Ah, it was not all for buying or selling that your handsome son has been coming to town every week these many months past. And not by the shortest way, either! No, it was over the river he rode, and across the hill and past the cottage of Miguel the vine-keeper, whose daughter, they say, is the prettiest girl in the whole country side, though she is too white for my taste,’ and then the landlady paused again, and glanced up at the farmer, to see how he was taking it. She did not learn much. He was looking straight before him, his teeth set. But as she ceased to talk, he said quietly, ‘Go on.’‘There is not much more to tell,’ replied the landlady, for she suddenly remembered that she must prepare supper for the hungry men who always stopped at the inn on market days, before starting for home, ‘but one fine morning they both went to the little church on top of the hill, and were married. My cousin is servant to the priest, and she found out about it and told me. But good- day to you, sir; here is your horse, and I must hurry off to the kitchen.’It was lucky that the horse was sure-footed and knew the road, for his bridle hung loose on his neck, and his master took no heed of the way he was going. When the farm-house was reached, the man led the animal to the stable, and then went to look for his son.‘I know everything–you have deceived me. Get out of my sight at once–I have done with you,’ he stammered, choking with passion as he came up to the young man, who was cutting a stick in front of the door, whistling gaily the while.‘But, father–‘‘You are no son of mine; I have only one now. Begone, or it will be the worse for you,’ and as he spoke he lifted up his whip.The young man shrank back. He feared lest his father should fall down in a fit, his face was so red and his eyes seemed bursting from his head. But it was no use staying: perhaps next morning the old man might listen to reason, though in his heart the son felt that he would never take back his words. So he turned slowly away, and walked heavily along a path which ended in a cave on the side of his hill, and there he sat through the night, thinking of what had happened.Yes, he had been wrong, there was no doubt of that, and he did not quite know how it had come about. He had meant to have told his father all about it, and he was sure, quite sure, that if once the old man had seen his wife, he would have forgiven her poverty on account of her great beauty and goodness. But he had put it off from day to day, hoping always for a better opportunity, and now this was the end!If the son had no sleep that night, no more had the father, and as soon as the sun rose, he sent a messenger into the great city with orders to bring back the younger brother. When he arrived the farmer did not waste words, but informed him that he was now his only heir, and would inherit all his lands and money, and that he was to come and live at home, and to help manage the property.Though very pleased at the thought of becoming such a rich man– for the brothers had never cared much for each other–the younger would rather have stayed where he was, for he soon got tired of the country, and longed for a town life. However, this he kept to himself, and made the best of things, working hard like his brother before him.In this way the years went on, but the crops were not so good as they had been, and the old man gave orders that some fine houses he was building in the city should be left unfinished, for it would take all the savings to complete them. As to the elder son, he would never even hear his name mentioned, and died at last without ever seeing his face, leaving to the younger, as he had promised, all his lands, as well as his money.Meanwhile, the son whom he had disinherited had grown poorer and poorer. He and his wife were always looking out for something to do, and never spent a penny that they could help, but luck was against them, and at the time of his father’s death they had hardly bread to eat or clothes to cover them. If there had been only himself, he would have managed to get on somehow, but he could not bear to watch his children becoming weaker day by day, and swallowing his pride, at length he crossed the mountains to his old home where his brother was living.It was the first time for long that the two men had come face to face, and they looked at each other in silence. Then tears rose in the eyes of the elder, but winking them hastily away, he said:‘Brother, it is not needful that I should tell you how poor I am; you can see that for yourself. I have not come to beg for money, but only to ask if you will give me those unfinished houses of yours in the city, and I will make them watertight, so that my wife and children can live in them, and that will save our rent. For as they are, they profit you nothing.’And the younger brother listened and pitied him, and gave him the houses that he asked for, and the elder went away happy.For some years things went on as they were, and then the rich brother began to feel lonely, and thought to himself that he was getting older, and it was time for him to be married. The wife he chose was very wealthy, but she was also very greedy, and however much she had, she always wanted more. She was, besides, one of those unfortunate people who invariably fancy that the possessions of other people must be better than their own. Many a time her poor husband regretted the day that he had first seen her, and often her meanness and shabby ways put him to shame. But he had not the courage to rule her, and she only got worse and worse.After she had been married a few months the bride wanted to go into the city and buy herself some new dresses. She had never been there before, and when she had finished her shopping, she thought she would pay a visit to her unknown sister-in-law, and rest for a bit. The house she was seeking was in a broad street, and ought to have been very magnificent, but the carved stone portico enclosed a mean little door of rough wood, while a row of beautiful pillars led to nothing. The dwelling on each side were in the same unfinished condition, and water trickled down the walls. Most people would have considered it a wretched place, and turned their backs on it as soon as they could, but this lady saw that by spending some money the houses could be made as splendid as they were originally intended to be, and she instantly resolved to get them for herself.Full of this idea she walked up the marble staircase, and entered the little room where her sister-in-law sat, making clothes for her children. The bride seemed full of interest in the houses, and asked a great many questions about them, so that her new relations liked her much better than they expected, and hoped they might be good friends. However, as soon as she reached home, she went straight to her husband, and told him that he must get back those houses from his brother, as they would exactly suit her, and she could easily make them into a palace as fine as the king’s. But her husband only told her that she might buy houses in some other part of the town, for she could not have those, as he had long since made a gift of them to his brother, who had lived there for many years past.At this answer the wife grew very angry. She began to cry, and made such a noise that all the neighbours heard her and put their heads out of the windows, to see what was the matter. ‘It was absurd,’ she sobbed out, ‘quite unjust. Indeed, if you came to think of it, the gift was worth nothing, as when her husband made it he was a bachelor, and since then he had been married, and she had never given her consent to any such thing.’ And so she lamented all day and all night, till the poor man was nearly worried to death; and at last he did what she wished, and summoned his brother in a court of law to give up the houses which, he said, had only been lent to him. But when the evidence on both sides had been heard, the judge decided in favour of the poor man, which made the rich lady more furious than ever, and she determined not to rest until she had gained the day. If one judge would not give her the houses another should, and so time after time the case was tried over again, till at last it came before the highest judge of all, in the city of Evora. Her husband was heartily tired and ashamed of the whole affair, but his weakness in not putting a stop to it in the beginning had got him into this difficulty, and now he was forced to go on.On the same day the two brothers set out on their journey to the city, the rich one on horseback, with plenty of food in his knapsack, the poor one on foot with nothing but a piece of bread and four onions to eat on the way. The road was hilly and neither could go very fast, and when night fell, they were both glad to see some lights in a window a little distance in front of them.The lights turned out to have been placed there by a farmer, who had planned to have a particularly good supper as it was his wife’s birthday, and bade the rich man enter and sit down, while he himself took the horse to the stable. The poor man asked timidly if he might spend the night in a corner, adding that he had brought his own supper with him. Another time permission might have been refused him, for the farmer was no lover of humble folk, but now he gave the elder brother leave to come in, pointing out a wooden chair where he could sit.Supper was soon served, and very glad the younger brother was to eat it, for his long ride had made him very hungry. The farmer’s wife, however, would touch nothing, and at last declared that the only supper she wanted was one of the onions the poor man was cooking at the fire. Of course he gave it to her, though he would gladly have eaten it himself, as three onions are not much at the end of a long day’s walk, and soon after they all went to sleep, the poor man making himself as comfortable as he could in his corner.A few hours later the farmer was aroused by the cries and groans of his wife.‘Oh, I feel so ill, I’m sure I’m going to die,’ wept she. ‘It was that onion, I know it was. I wish I had never eaten it. It must have been poisoned.’‘If the man has poisoned you he shall pay for it,’ said her husband, and seizing a thick stick he ran downstairs and began to beat the poor man, who had been sound asleep, and had nothing to defend himself with. Luckily, the noise aroused the younger brother, who jumped up and snatched the stick from the farmer’s hand, saying:‘We are both going to Evora to try a law-suit. Come too, and accuse him there if he has attempted to rob you or murder you, but don’t kill him now, or you will get yourself into trouble.’‘Well, perhaps you are right,’ answered the farmer, ‘but the sooner that fellow has his deserts, the better I shall be pleased,’ and without more words he went to the stables and brought out a horse for himself and also the black Andalusian mare ridden by the rich man, while the poor brother, fearing more ill-treatment, started at once on foot.Now all that night it had rained heavily, and did not seem likely to stop, and in some places the road was so thick with mud that it was almost impossible to get across it. In one spot it was so very bad that a mule laden with baggage had got stuck in it, and tug as he might, his master was quite unable to pull him out. The muleteer in despair appealed to the two horseman, who were carefully skirting the swamp at some distance off, but they paid no heed to his cries, and he began to talk cheerfully to his mule, hoping to keep up his spirits, declaring that if the poor beast would only have a little patience help was sure to come.And so it did, for very soon the poor brother reached the place, bespattered with mud from head to foot, but ready to do all he could to help with the mule and his master. First they set about finding some stout logs of wood to lay down on the marsh so that they could reach the mule, for by this time his frantic struggles had broken his bridle, and he was deeper in than ever. Stepping cautiously along the wood, the poor man contrived to lay hold of the animal’s tale, and with a desperate effort the mule managed to regain his footing on dry ground, but at the cost of leaving his tail in the poor man’s hand. When he saw this the muleteer’s anger knew no bounds, and forgetting that without the help given him he would have lost his mule altogether, he began to abuse the poor man, declaring that he had ruined his beast, and the law would make him pay for it. Then, jumping on the back of the mule, which was so glad to be out of the choking mud that he did not seem to mind the loss of his tail, the ungrateful wretch rode on, and that evening reached the inn at Evora, where the rich man and the farmer had already arrived for the night.Meanwhile the poor brother walked wearily along, wondering what other dreadful adventures were in store for him.‘I shall certainly be condemned for one or other of them,’ thought he sadly; ‘and after all, if I have to die, I would rather choose my own death than leave it to my enemies,’ and as soon as he entered Evora he looked about for a place suitable for carrying out the plan he had made. At length he found what he sought, but as it was too late and too dark for him to make sure of success, he curled himself up under a doorway, and slept till morning.Although it was winter, the sun rose in a clear sky, and its rays felt almost warm when the poor man got up and shook himself. He intended it to be the day of his death, but in spite of that, and of the fact that he was leaving his wife and children behind him, he felt almost cheerful. He had struggled so long, and was so very, very tired; but he would not have minded that if he could have proved his innocence, and triumphed over his enemies. However, they had all been too clever for him, and he had no strength to fight any more. So he mounted the stone steps that led to the battlements of the city, and stopped for a moment to gaze about him.It happened that an old sick man who lived near by had begged to be carried out and to be laid at the foot of the wall so that the beams of the rising sun might fall upon him, and he would be able to talk with his friends as they passed by to their work. Little did he guess that on top of the battlements, exactly over his head, stood a man who was taking his last look at the same sun, before going to his death that awaited him. But so it was; and as the steeple opposite was touched by the golden light, the poor man shut his eyes and sprang forward. The wall was high, and he flew rapidly through the air, but it was not the ground he touched, only the body of the sick man, who rolled over and died without a groan. As for the other, he was quite unhurt, and was slowly rising to his feet when his arms were suddenly seized and held.‘You have killed our father, do you see? do you see?’ cried two young men, ‘and you will come with us this instant before the judge, and answer for it.’‘Your father? but I don’t know him. What do you mean?’ asked the poor man, who was quite bewildered with his sudden rush through the air, and could not think why he should be accused of this fresh crime. But he got no reply, and was only hurried through the streets to the court-house, where his brother, the muleteer, and the farmer had just arrived, all as angry as ever, all talking at once, till the judge entered and ordered them to be silent.‘I will hear you one by one,’ he said, and motioned the younger brother to begin.He did not take long to state his case. The unfinished houses were his, left him with the rest of the property by his father, and his brother refused to give them up. In answer, the poor man told, in a few words, how he had begged the houses from his brother, and produced the deed of gift which made him their owner.The judge listened quietly and asked a few questions; then he gave his verdict.‘The houses shall remain the property of the man to whom they were given, and to whom they belong. And as you,’ he added, turning to the younger brother, ‘brought this accusation knowing full well it was wicked and unjust, I order you, besides losing the houses, to pay a thousand pounds damages to your brother.’The rich man heard the judge with rage in his heart, the poor man with surprise and gratitude. But he was not safe yet, for now it was the turn of the farmer. The judge could hardly conceal a smile at the story, and inquired if the wife was dead before the farmer left the house, and received for answer that he was in such a hurry for justice to be done that he had not waited to see. Then the poor man told his tale, and once more judgment was given in his favour, while twelve hundred pounds was ordered to be paid him. As for the muleteer, he was informed very plainly that he had proved himself mean and ungrateful for the help that had been given him, and as a punishment he must pay to the poor man a fine of fifty pounds, and hand him over the mule till his tail had grown again.Lastly, there came the two sons of the sick man.‘This is the wretch who killed our father,’ they said, ‘and we demand that he should die also.’‘How did you kill him?’ asked the judge, turning to the accused, and the poor man told how he had leaped from the wall, not knowing that anyone was beneath.‘Well, this is my judgment,’ replied the judge, when they had all spoken: ‘Let the accused sit under the wall, and let the sons of the dead man jump from the top and fall on him and kill him, and if they will not to this, then they are condemned to pay eight hundred pounds for their false accusation.’The young men looked at each other, and slowly shook their heads.‘We will pay the fine,’ said they, and the judge nodded.So the poor man rode the mule home, and brought back to his family enough money to keep them in comfort to the end of their days.
For a long time Raven lived alone, but finally became tired of it and decided to take a wife. It was late in the fall and he noticed that the birds were going south in large flocks. He flew away and stopped directly in the path taken by geese and other wild fowl on their way to the land of summer.As he sat there he saw a pretty young goose coming near. He hid his face by looking at his feet, so that she would not know but that he was a black goose, and called out, “Who wishes me for a husband? I am a very nice person.”The goose flew on without heeding him and he looked after her and sighed. Soon after a black brant passed, and Raven cried out as before, but the brant flew on. Again he waited and this time a duck passed near, and when Raven cried out she turned her head a little.“Oh, I shall succeed this time,” thought Raven, and his heart beat fast with hope. But the duck passed on, and Raven stood waiting with bowed head.Very soon a family of white-front geese came along, consisting of the parents with four sons and a sister. Raven cried out, “Who wishes me for a husband? I am a fine hunter and am young and handsome.”As he finished speaking they alighted just beyond him, and he thought, “Surely, now I shall get a wife.” He looked about and found a pretty white stone with a hole in it lying near. He picked it up and, stringing it on a long grass stem, hung it about his neck.As soon as he had done this he pushed up his bill so that it slid to the top of his head like a mask, and he became a dark-colored young man. At the same time each of the geese pushed up its bill in the same manner, and they became nice-looking people.Raven walked toward them, and was much pleased with the looks of the girl and, going to her, gave her the stone which she hung about her neck. By doing this she showed that she accepted him for her husband. Then they all pulled down their bills, becoming birds again, and flew away toward the south.The geese flapped their wings heavily and worked along slowly, while Raven on his outspread wings glided along faster than his party, and the geese gazed after him in admiration, exclaiming, “How light and graceful he is!” and the little bride was very proud of her fine husband.But Raven was not accustomed to the long, all-day flights of the geese, and he became tired.“We would better stop early and look for a good place to spend the night,” he said. The others agreed to this, so they stopped and were soon asleep.Early the next morning the geese were astir, but Raven slept so heavily that the father goose had to shake him and say, “Wake up! Wake up! We must make haste for it will snow here soon; we must not linger.”As soon as Raven was fully awake he pretended to be eager to get away, and, as on the day before, he led all the others with his wide-spread wings, and was greatly admired by the others, especially by his young wife. He kept on, above or in front of his companions, and his bride would often say, “See how gracefully he skims along without having to flop heavy wings as we do,” and she gave her brothers a side glance which made them feel that she was contrasting their clumsiness with his ease. After that tactless remark, the four brothers-in-law began to feel envious of Raven.They stopped one evening on the seashore, where they feasted upon the berries which were plentiful there, and then they settled down for the night and fell asleep. In the morning the geese were making ready to start without waiting for breakfast, and Raven’s stomach cried out for more of the berries. But father goose said they could not wait, and he dared not object to starting. The brothers-in-law had secretly urged the father not to wait, for they said, “Our sister needs to have some of the conceit about that husband of hers taken out of her; and so does he.”Raven dreaded the long flight across the sea, for he heard father goose say, “We will make only one stop in crossing this water. There is an island in the center of it, and there we will rest for a short time and then go on to the farther shore.”Raven was ashamed to say that he feared he could never reach that farther shore, so he determined to keep still and risk it; and off they all flew.The geese kept steadily on and on. After a long time Raven began to fall behind. His wide-spread wings ached, yet the geese kept steadily and untiringly on. His vanity was no longer gratified by admiring remarks from his companions, for he was flapping heavily along. Sometimes he would glide on outspread pinions for a time, hoping to ease his tired wings, but he fell farther and farther behind.Finally the geese looked back and the brothers said, sarcastically, “We thought he was light and active.” The father goose said, “He must be getting tired. We must not press him too hard. We will rest.”The geese sank upon the water close together, and Raven came laboring up and dropped upon their backs, gasping for breath. In a short time he partially recovered and, putting one hand on his breast, said, “I have an arrow-head here from an old war I was in, and it pains me greatly; that is the reason I fell behind.”He had his wife put her hand on his breast to feel the arrow-head which he declared was working its way into his heart. She could feel nothing but his heart beating like a trip-hammer with no sign of an arrow-point. But she said nothing, for her brothers were whispering, “We don’t believe that story about the arrow-point! How could he live with an arrow in his heart?”They rested two or three times more, he sinking upon their backs as before; but when they saw the far-off shore before them father goose said, “We can wait for you no more,” for they were eager to reach the land and find food.They all arose and flew on, Raven slowly flapping along behind, for his wings felt heavy. The geese kept steadily on toward the shore, while he sank lower and lower, getting nearer to the dreaded water. When the waves were almost touching him he shrieked to his wife:“Leave me the white stone; it has magical powers. Throw me the white stone.”Thus he kept crying until suddenly his wings lost their power and he floated helplessly on the water as the geese gained the shore. He tried to rise from the water but his wings seemed to be weighted down, and he drifted back and forth along the beach. The waves arose and one whitecap after another broke over him till he was soaked, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he could get his beak above the surface to breathe a little between the billows.After a long time a great wave cast him upon the land, and as it flowed back he dug his claws into the sand to save himself from being dragged back into the sea. As soon as he was able he struggled up the beach, an unhappy looking object. The water ran in streams from his soaked feathers and his wings dragged on the ground. He fell several times, and at last, with wide-gaping mouth, he reached some bushes. As soon as he could get his breath he took off his raven coat and pushed up his beak, becoming a small, dark-colored man.“From this time on, forevermore I’m done with being a goose,” he declared.
Once upon a time there was a very rich and powerful king who, in spite of having been married several times, had only two daughters.The elder was extremely plain — she squinted and was hunchbacked; but at the same time she was very clever and amusing, so, though at heart both spiteful and untruthful, she was her father’s favourite.The younger princess, on the other hand, was both lovely and sweet-tempered, and those who knew her well could hardly say whether her charming face or pleasant manners were the more attractive.The neighbouring country was governed by a young emperor, who, though not much over twenty years of age, had shown great courage in battle, and, had he wished it, might very likely have conquered the whole world. Luckily he preferred peace to war, and occupied his time with trying to rule his own kingdom well and wisely. His people were very anxious that he should marry, and as the two princesses were the only ladies to be heard of of suitable age and rank, the emperor sent envoys to their father’s court to ask for the hand of one of them in marriage. But, as he was resolved only to marry a woman whom he could love and be happy with, he determined to see the lady himself before making up his mind. For this purpose he set out in disguise not long after the departure of his ambassadors, and arrived at the palace very soon after they did; but as he had foolishly kept his plan secret, he found, when he reached the court, that they had already made proposals for the elder princess.Now the emperor might just as well have gone openly, for his presence soon became known; and when the king heard of it he prepared to receive him royally, though of course he had to pretend that he had no idea who he was. So it was settled that the ambassadors should present their master under the name of one of the princes, and in this manner he was received by the king.At night there was a grand ball at which the young emperor was able to see the two princesses and to make their acquaintance. The ugly face and figure and spiteful remarks of the elder displeased him so greatly that he felt he could not marry her even if she owned ten kingdoms, whilst the sweet face and gentle manners of the younger sister charmed him so much that he would gladly have shared his throne with her had she been only a simple shepherdess.He found it very difficult to conceal his thoughts and to pay the elder princess the amount of attention due to her, though he did his best to be polite; while all he saw or heard during the next few days only increased his love for her younger sister, and at last he confessed that his dearest wish was to make her his wife, if she and her father would grant his desire.He had commanded his ambassadors to put off their farewell audience for a little time, hoping that the king might perceive the state of his feelings; but when it could be deferred no longer, he bade them propose in his name for the younger princess.On hearing this news, so different from what he had been led to expect, the king, who — as we have said before — was devoted to his elder daughter and entirely under her influence, could hardly contain his displeasure. Directly the audience was over he sent for the princess and told her of the insolent proposal the emperor had made for her sister. The princess was even more furious than her father, and after consulting together they decided to send the younger daughter to some distant place out of reach of the young emperor; but where this should be they did not quite know. However, at length, after they had both racked their brains to find a suitable prison, they fixed on a lonely castle called the Desert Tower, where they thought she would be quite safe.Meantime, it was thought best to let the court gaieties go on as usual, and orders were given for all sorts of splendid entertainments; and on the day that was fixed for carrying off the princess, the whole court was invited to a great hunt in the forest.The emperor and the young princess were counting the hours till this morning, which promised to be so delightful, should dawn. The king and his guest arrived together at the meeting place, but what was the surprise and distress of the young man at not seeing the object of his love amongst the ladies present. He waited anxiously, looking up and down, not hearing anything that the king said to him; and when the hunt began and she still was absent, he declined to follow, and spent the whole day seeking her, but in vain.On his return, one of his attendants told him that some hours before he had met the princess’s carriage, escorted by a troop of soldiers who were riding on each side, so that no one could get speech of her. He had followed them at a distance, and saw them stop at the Desert Tower, and on its return he noticed that the carriage was empty. The emperor was deeply grieved by this news. He left the court at once, and ordered his ambassadors to declare war the very next day, unless the king promised to set free the princess. And more than this, no sooner had he reached his own country than he raised a large army, with which he seized the frontier towns, before his enemy had had time to collect any troops. But, ere he quitted the court, he took care to write a letter to his beloved princess imploring her to have patience, and trust to him; and this he gave into the hands of his favourite equerry, who would he knew lay down his life in his service.With many precautions the equerry managed to examine the surroundings of the tower, and at last discovered, not only where the princess lodged, but that a little window in her room looked out on a desolate plot full of brambles.Now the unhappy princess was much annoyed that she was not even allowed to take the air at this little window, which was the only one in her room. Her keeper was her elder sister’s former nurse, a woman whose eyes never slept. Not for an instant could she be induced to stir from the side of the princess, and she watched her slightest movement.One day, however, the spy was for once busy in her room writing an account of the princess to her elder sister, and the poor prisoner seized the opportunity to lean out of the window. As she looked about her she noticed a man hidden amongst the bushes, who stepped forward as soon as he caught sight of her, and showed her a letter, which he took from his jerkin. She at once recognised him as one of the emperor’s attendants, and let down a long string, to which be tied the letter. You can fancy how quickly she drew it up again, and luckily she had just time to read it before her gaoler had finished her report and entered the room.The princess’s delight was great, and next day she managed to write an answer on a sheet of her note book, and to throw it down to the equerry, who hastened to carry it back to his master. The emperor was so happy at having news of his dear princess, that he resolved, at all risks, to visit the Desert Tower himself, if only to see her for a moment. He ordered his equerry to ask leave to visit her, and the princess replied that she should indeed rejoice to see him, but that she feared that her gaoler’s watchfulness would make his journey useless, unless he came during the short time when the old woman was writing alone in her own room.Naturally, the bare idea of difficulties only made the emperor more eager than ever. He was ready to run any risks, but, by the advice of the equerry, he decided to try cunning rather than force. In his next letter he enclosed a sleeping powder, which the princess managed to mix with her gaoler’s supper, so that when the emperor reached the tower in the evening the princess appeared fearlessly at her window on hearing his signal. They had a long and delightful conversation, and parted in the fond hope that their meeting had not been observed. But in this they were sadly mistaken. The watchful eyes of the old nurse were proof against any sleeping draught — she had seen and heard all; and lost no time in writing to report everything to her mistress.The news made the spiteful little hunchback furious, and she resolved to be cruelly revenged for the contempt with which the emperor had treated her. She ordered her nurse to pretend not to notice what might be passing, and meantime she had a trap made so that if the emperor pushed his way through the brambles at the foot of the tower, it would not only catch him, as if he were a mouse, but would let loose a number of poisoned arrows, which would pierce him all over. When it was ready, the trap was hidden amongst the brambles without being observed by the princess.That same evening the emperor hurried to the tower with all the impatience of love. As he came near he heard the princess break into a long, joyous peal of laughter. He advanced quickly to give the usual signal, when suddenly his foot trod on something, he knew not what. A sharp, stinging pain ran through him, and be turned white and faint, but, luckily, the trap had only opened a little way, and only a few of the arrows flew out. For a moment he staggered, and then fell to the ground covered with blood.Had he been alone he would have died very shortly, but his faithful squire was close at hand, and carried his master off to the wood where the rest of his escort were waiting for him. His wounds were bound up, and some poles were cut to make a rough litter, and, almost unconscious, the emperor was borne away out of his enemy’s country to his own palace.All this time the princess was feeling very anxious. She had been whiling away the hours before this meeting by playing with a little pet monkey, which had been making such funny faces that, in spite of her troubles, she had burst into the hearty laugh overheard by the emperor. But by-and-by she grew restless, waiting for the signal which never came, and, had she dared, would certainly have rebelled when her gaoler, whom she believed to be fast asleep, ordered her to go to bed at once.A fortnight passed, which was spent in great anxiety by the poor girl, who grew thin and weak with the uncertainty. At the end of this period, when the nurse went to her room one morning as usual in order to write her daily report, she carelessly left the key in the door. This was perceived by the princess, who turned it upon her so quickly and quietly that she never found out she was locked in till she had finished writing, and got up to seek her charge.Finding herself free, the princess flew to the window, and to her horror saw the arrows lying about amongst the bloodstained brambles. Distracted with terror she slipped down the stairs and out of the tower, and ran for some time along a path, when with great good luck she met the husband of her own nurse, who had only just heard of her imprisonment, and was on his way to try to find out whether he could serve her. The princess begged him to get her some men’s clothes while she awaited him in a little wood close by. The good man was overjoyed to be of use, and started at once for the nearest town, where he soon discovered a shop where the court lackeys were accustomed to sell their masters’ cast-off clothes. The princess dressed herself at once in the disguise he had brought, which was of rich material and covered with precious stones; and, putting her own garments into a bag, which her servant hung over his shoulders, they both set out on their journey.This lasted longer than either of them expected. They walked by day as far as the princess could manage, and by night they slept in the open air. One evening they camped in a lovely valley watered by a rippling stream, and towards morning the princess was awakened by a charming voice singing one of the songs of her own childhood. Anxious to find out where the sound came from, she walked to a thicket of myrtles, where she saw a little boy with a quiver at his back and an ivory bow in his hand, singing softly to himself as he smoothed the feathers of his shafts.‘Are you surprised at seeing my eyes open ?’ he asked, with a smile. ‘Ah ! I am not always blind ! And sometimes it is well to know what sort of a heart needs piercing. It was I who sent out my darts the day that you and the emperor met, so, as I have caused the wound, I am in duty bound to find the cure !’Then he gave her a little bottle full of a wonderful salve with which to dress the emperor’s wounds when she found him.‘In two days you can reach his palace,’ he said. ‘Do not waste time, for sometimes time is life.’The princess thanked the boy with tears in her eyes, and hastened to awake her guide so that they might start, and set off at once on their way.As the boy had foretold, in two days the tower and walls of the city came in sight, and her heart beat wildly at the thought that she would soon be face to face with the emperor, but on inquiring after his health she learned, to her horror, that he was sinking fast. For a moment her grief was so great that she nearly betrayed herself. Then, calling all her courage to her aid, she announced that she was a doctor, and that if they would leave him in her charge for a few days she would promise to cure him.Now, in order to make a good appearance at court the new doctor resolved to have an entire suit made of pale blue satin. She bought the richest, most splendid stuff to be had in the shops, and summoned a tailor to make it for her, engaging to pay him double if he would finish the work in two hours. Next she went to the market, where she bought a fine mule, bidding her servant see that its harness was adorned with trappings of blue satin also.Whilst all was being made ready the princess asked the woman in whose house she lived whether she knew any of the emperor’s attendants, and found to her satisfaction that her cousin was his majesty’s chief valet. The doctor then bade the woman inform everyone she met that on hearing of the emperor’s illness a celebrated surgeon had hastened to attend him, and had undertaken to cure him entirely; declaring himself prepared to be burnt alive in case of failure.The good woman, who loved nothing better than a bit of gossip, hurried to the palace with her news. Her story did not lose in telling. The court physicians were very scornful about the new-corner, but the emperor’s attendants remarked that as, in spite of their remedies, his majesty was dying before their eyes, there could be no harm in consulting this stranger.So the lord chamberlain begged the young doctor to come and prescribe for the royal patient without delay; and the doctor sent a message at once, that he would do himself the honour to present himself at the palace, and he lost no time in mounting his mule and setting out. As the people and soldiers saw him ride past they cried out:‘Here comes the Satin Surgeon ! Look at the Satin Surgeon ! Long live the Satin Surgeon !’ And, on arriving, he was announced by this name, and at once taken to the sick room of the dying man.The emperor was lying with his eyes closed, and his face as white as the pillow itself; but directly he heard the new-corner’s voice, he looked up and smiled, and signed that he wished the new doctor to remain near him. Making a low bow, the Satin Surgeon assured the emperor that he felt certain of curing his malady, but insisted that everyone should leave the room except the emperor’s favourite equerry. He then dressed the wounds with the magic salve which the boy had given him, and it so relieved the emperor’s pain that he slept soundly all that night.When morning broke, the courtiers and doctors hurried to the emperor’s chamber, and were much surprised to find him free of pain. But they were promptly ordered out of the room by the Satin Surgeon, who renewed the dressings with such good results that next morning the emperor was nearly well, and able to leave his bed. As he grew stronger, his thoughts dwelt more and more on the cause of all his sufferings, and his spirits grew worse as his health grew better. The face and voice of his new doctor reminded him of the princess who had, he imagined, betrayed him, and caused him such dreadful torture; and, unable to bear the thought, his eyes filled with tears.The doctor noticed his sad countenance and did all he could to enliven his patient with cheerful talk and amusing stories, till at last he won the emperor’s confidence and heard all the story of his love for a lady who had treated him cruelly, but whom, in spite of everything, he could not help loving. The Satin Surgeon listened with sympathy, and tried to persuade the emperor that possibly the princess was not so much to blame as might appear; but, eager though the sick man was to believe this, it took a long while to persuade him of it. At length a day came when the emperor was nearly well, and for the last time the doctor dressed the wounds with the precious salve. Then, both patient and surgeon, being wearied out with something they could not explain, fell asleep and slept for hours.Early next morning, the princess, having decided to resume her own clothes which she had brought with her in a bag, dressed herself with great care and put on all her jewels so as to make herself look as lovely as possible. She had just finished when the emperor awoke, feeling so strong and well that he thought he must be dreaming, nor could he believe himself to be awake when he saw the princess draw aside his curtains.For some minutes they gazed at each other, unable to speak, and then they only uttered little gasps of joy and thankfulness. By-and-by the princess told him the whole story of her adventures since their last interview at the Desert Tower; and the emperor, weak as he was, threw himself at her feet with vows of love and gratitude, without ever giving a thought to the fact that the household and court physicians were awaiting their summons in the ante-room.The emperor, anxious to prove how much he owed to the Satin Surgeon, opened his door himself, and great was everyone’s surprise and joy at seeing him in such perfect health. Like good courtiers, they hastened in to praise and compliment the Satin Surgeon, but what was their astonishment on finding that he had disappeared, leaving in his place the loveliest princess in the whole world.‘Whilst thanking the surgeon for his miraculous cure, you might at the same time do homage to your empress,’ observed the emperor. He wished to have the marriage celebrated the same day, but the princess declared that she must wait to get her father’s permission first.Messengers were therefore instantly despatched to the neighbouring capital, and soon returned with the king’s consent, for he had lately discovered all the mischief caused by his elder daughter.The spiteful princess was so furious at the failure of her plans that she took to her bed, and died in a fit of rage and jealousy. No one grieved for her, and the king, being tired of the fatigues of government, gave up his crown to his younger daughter; so the two kingdoms henceforth became one.
Once upon a time, ages and ages ago, there was a little white hen. One day she was busily engaged in scratching the soil to find worms and insects for her breakfast. As she worked she sang over and over again her little crooning song, “Quirrichi, quirrichi, quirrichi.” Suddenly she noticed a tiny piece of paper lying on the ground. “Quirrichi, quirrichi, what luck!” she said to herself. “This must be a letter. One time when the king, the great ruler of our country, held his court in the meadow close by, many people brought him letters and laid them at his feet. Now I, too, even I, the little white hen, have a letter. I am going to carry my letter to the king.”The next morning the little white hen started bravely out on her long journey. She carried the letter very carefully in her little brown basket. It was a long distance to the royal palace where the king lived. The little white hen had never been so far from home in all her life.After a while she met a friendly fox. Foxes and little white hens are not usually very good friends, you know, but this fox was a friend of the little white hen. Once upon a time, she had helped the fox to escape from a trap and the fox had never forgotten her kindness to him.“O, little white hen, where are you going?” asked the fox.“Quirrichi, quirrichi,” replied the little white hen, “I am going to the royal palace to carry a letter to the king.”“Indeed, little white hen,” said the fox, “I should like to go with you. Give me your permission to accompany you on your journey.”“I shall be glad to have you go with me,” said the little white hen. “It is a very long journey to the royal palace where the king lives. Wouldn’t you like me to carry you in my little brown basket?”The fox climbed into the little brown basket. After the little white hen had gone on for some distance farther she met a river. Once upon a time, the little white hen had done the river a kindness. He had, with great difficulty, thrown some ugly worms upon the bank and he was afraid they would crawl back in again. The little white hen had eaten them for him. Always after that the river had been her friend.“O, little white hen, where are you going?” the river called out as soon as he saw her.“Quirrichi, quirrichi, I am going to the royal palace to carry a letter to the king,” replied the little white hen.“O, little white hen, may I go with you?” asked the river.The little white hen told the river that he might go with her and asked him to ride in the little brown basket. So the river climbed into the little brown basket.After the little white hen had journeyed along for a time, she came to a fire. Once upon a time, when the fire had been dying the little white hen had brought some dried grass. The grass had given the fire new life and always after that he had been the friend of the little white hen.“O, little white hen, where are you going?” the fire asked.“Quirrichi, quirrichi, I am going to the royal palace to carry a letter to the king,” replied the little white hen.“O, little white hen, may I go with you?” asked the fire. “I have never been to the royal palace and I have never had even a peep at the king.”The little white hen told the fire that he might go with her and asked him to climb into the little brown basket. By this time the little brown basket was so full, that, try as they might, they couldn’t make room for the fire. At last they thought of a plan. The fire changed himself into ashes and then there was room for him to get into the basket.The little white hen journeyed on and on, and finally she arrived at the royal palace.“Who are you and what are you carrying in your little brown basket?” asked the royal doorkeeper when he opened the door.“I am the little white hen, and I am carrying a letter to the king,” replied the little white hen. She didn’t say a word about the fox and the river and the fire which she had in her little brown basket. She was so frightened before the great royal doorkeeper of the palace that she could hardly find her voice at all.The royal doorkeeper invited the little white hen to enter the palace and he led her to the royal throne where the king was sitting. The little white hen bowed very low before the king—so low, in fact, that it mussed up all her feathers.“Who are you and what is your business?” asked the king in his big, deep, kingly voice.“Quirrichi, quirrichi, I am the little white hen,” replied the little white hen in her low, frightened, little voice. “I have come to bring my letter to your royal majesty.” She handed the king the piece of paper which had remained all this time at the bottom of the little brown basket. There were marks of dirt upon it where the friendly fox’s feet had rested. It was damp where the river had lain. It had tiny holes in it where the fire had sat after he had turned himself into hot ashes.“What do you mean by bringing me this dirty piece of paper?” shouted the king in his biggest, deepest, gruffest voice. “I am highly offended. I always knew that hens were stupid little creatures but you are quite the stupidest little hen I ever saw in all my life.”“Here,” and he turned to one of the attendants standing by the throne, “take this stupid, little white hen and throw her out into the royal poultry yard. I think we will have her for dinner tomorrow.”The little white hen was roughly seized by the tallest royal attendant and carried down the back stairs, through the back gate, out into the royal poultry yard. She still clung to the little brown basket which she had brought with her on her long journey to the royal palace and through all the sad experiences she had met there.When the little white hen reached the royal poultry yard all the royal fowls flew at her. Some plucked at her rumpled white feathers. Others tried to pick out her eyes. One pulled off the cover of the little brown basket.Out sprang the fox from the little brown basket and in the twinkling of an eye he fell upon the fowls of the royal poultry yard. Not a single fowl was left alive.There was such a great commotion that the king, the queen, the royal attendants and all the royal servants of the palace came rushing out to see what was the matter. The fox had already taken to his heels and the little white hen lost no time in running away too. She did not, however, forget to take her little brown basket with her.The royal household all ran after her in swift pursuit. They had almost caught her when the river suddenly sprang out of the little brown basket and flowed between the little white hen and her royal pursuers. They couldn’t get across without canoes.While they were getting the canoes and climbing into them the little white hen had time to run a long way. She had almost reached a thick forest where she could easily hide herself when the royal pursuers again drew near. Then the fire which had changed itself into hot ashes jumped out of the little brown basket. It immediately became dark, so dark that the royal household could not even see each other’s faces and, of course, they could not see in which direction the little white hen was running. There was nothing for them to do but to return to the royal palace and live on beef and mutton.The fire which had turned itself into ashes sprang out of the little brown basket so suddenly that it scattered ashes all over the little white hen. From that day, she was always speckled where the ashes fell upon her. The chickens of the little white hen (who was now a little speckled hen) were all speckled too. So were their chickens and their chickens and their chickens’ chickens, even down to this very day. Whenever you see a speckled hen you may know that she is descended from the little white hen who carried a letter to the king, and who, in her adventures, became the first speckled hen.
I will tell you a story that was told to me when I was a little boy. Every time I think of this story it seems to me more and more charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people—they become better as they grow older.I have no doubt that you have been in the country and seen a very old farmhouse, with thatched roof, and mosses and small plants growing wild upon it. There is a stork’s nest on the ridge of the gable, for we cannot do without the stork. The walls of the house are sloping, and the windows are low, and only one of the latter is made to open. The baking oven sticks out of the wall like a great knob. An elder tree hangs over the palings, and beneath its branches, at the foot of the paling, is a pool of water in which a few ducks are sporting. There is a yard dog, too, that barks at all comers.Just such a farmhouse as this stood in a country lane, and in it dwelt an old couple, a peasant and his wife. Small as their possessions were, they had one thing they could not do without, and that was a horse, which contrived to live upon the grass found by the side of the highroad. The old peasant rode into the town upon this horse, and his neighbors often borrowed it of him and paid for the loan of it by rendering some service to the old couple. Yet after a time the old people thought it would be as well to sell the horse or exchange it for something which might be more useful to them. But what should this something be?“You will know best, old man,” said the wife. “It is fair day to-day; so ride into town and get rid of the horse for money or make a good exchange. Whichever you do will please me; so ride to the fair.”She fastened his neckerchief for him, for she could do that better than he could and she could also tie it very prettily in a double bow. She also smoothed his hat round and round with the palm of her hand and gave him a kiss. Then he rode away upon the horse that was to be sold, or bartered for something else. Yes, the goodman knew what he was about. The sun shone with great heat, and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The road was very dusty, for many people, all going to the fair, were driving, riding, or walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the hot sun. Among the crowd a man came trudging along, driving a cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any cow could be.“She gives good milk, I am certain,” said the peasant to himself. “That would be a very good exchange: the cow for the horse. Halloo there! you with the cow,” he said. “I tell you what, I dare say a horse is of more value than a cow; but I don’t care for that. A cow will be more useful to me, so if you like we’ll exchange.”“To be sure I will,” said the man.Accordingly the exchange was made. When the matter was settled the peasant might have turned back, for he had done the business he came to do. But having made up his mind to go to the fair, he determined to do so, if only to have a look at it. So on he went to the town with his cow. Leading the animal, he strode on sturdily, and, after a short time, overtook a man who was driving a sheep. It was a good fat sheep, with a fine fleece on its back.“I should like to have that fellow,” said the peasant to himself. “There is plenty of grass for him by our palings, and in the winter we could keep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would be more profitable to have a sheep than a cow. Shall I exchange?”The man with the sheep was quite ready, and the bargain was quickly made. And then our peasant continued his way on the highroad with his sheep. Soon after this, he overtook another man, who had come into the road from a field, and was carrying a large goose under his arm.“What a heavy creature you have there!” said the peasant. “It has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat, and would look well tied to a string, or paddling in the water at our place. That would be very useful to my old woman; she could make all sorts of profit out of it. How often she has said, ‘If we only had a goose!’ Now here is an opportunity, and, if possible, I will get it for her. Shall we exchange? I will give you my sheep for your goose, and thanks into the bargain.”The other had not the least objection, and accordingly the exchange was made, and our peasant became possessor of the goose. By this time he had arrived very near the town. The crowd on the highroad had been gradually increasing, and there was quite a rush of men and cattle. The cattle walked on the path and by the palings, and at the turnpike gate they even walked into the toll keeper’s potato field, where one fowl was strutting about with a string tied to its leg, lest it should take fright at the crowd and run away and get lost. The tail feathers of this fowl were very short, and it winked with both its eyes, and looked very cunning as it said, “Cluck, cluck.” What were the thoughts of the fowl as it said this I cannot tell you, but as soon as our good man saw it, he thought, “Why, that’s the finest fowl I ever saw in my life; it’s finer than our parson’s brood hen, upon my word. I should like to have that fowl. Fowls can always pick up a few grains that lie about, and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange?” he asked the toll keeper.“Exchange?” repeated the man. “Well, it would not be a bad thing.”So they made an exchange; the toll keeper at the turnpike gate kept the goose, and the peasant carried off the fowl. Now he really had done a great deal of business on his way to the fair, and he was hot and tired. He wanted something to eat, and a glass of ale to refresh himself; so he turned his steps to an inn. He was just about to enter, when the ostler came out, and they met at the door. The ostler was carrying a sack. “What have you in that sack?” asked the peasant.“Rotten apples,” answered the ostler; “a whole sackful of them. They will do to feed the pigs with.”“Why, that will be terrible waste,” the peasant replied. “I should like to take them home to my old woman. Last year the old apple tree by the grassplot bore only one apple, and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite withered and rotten. It was property, my old woman said. Here she would see a great deal of property—a whole sackful. I should like to show them to her.”“What will you give me for the sackful?” asked the ostler.“What will I give? Well, I will give you my fowl in exchange.”So he gave up the fowl and received the apples, which he carried into the inn parlor. He leaned the sack carefully against the stove, and then went to the table. But the stove was hot, and he had not thought of that. Many guests were present—horse-dealers, cattle-drovers, and two Englishmen. The Englishmen were so rich that their pockets bulged and seemed ready to burst; and they could bet too, as you shall hear. Hiss—s—s, hiss—s—s. What could that be by the stove? The apples were beginning to roast. “What is that?” asked one.“Why, do you know—” said our peasant, and then he told them the whole story of the horse, which he had exchanged for a cow, and all the rest of it, down to the apples.“Well, your old woman will give it to you when you get home,” said one of the Englishmen. “Won’t there be a noise?”“What! Give me what?” said the peasant. “Why, she will kiss me, and say, ‘What the goodman does is always right.'”“Let us lay a wager on it,” said the Englishman. “We’ll wager you a ton of coined gold, a hundred pounds to the hundredweight.”“No, a bushel will be enough,” replied the peasant. “I can only set a bushel of apples against it, and I’ll throw myself and my old woman into the bargain. That will pile up the measure, I fancy.”“Done! taken!” and so the bet was made.Then the landlord’s coach came to the door, and the two Englishmen and the peasant got in, and away they drove. Soon they had stopped at the peasant’s hut. “Good evening, old woman.”“Good evening, old man.”“I’ve made the exchange.”“Ah, well, you understand what you’re about,” said the woman. Then she embraced him, and paid no attention to the strangers, nor did she notice the sack.“I got a cow in exchange for the horse.”“Oh, how delightful!” said she. “Now we shall have plenty of milk, and butter, and cheese on the table. That was a capital exchange.”“Yes, but I changed the cow for a sheep.”“Ah, better still!” cried the wife. “You always think of everything; we have just enough pasture for a sheep. Ewe’s milk and cheese, woolen jackets and stockings! The cow could not give all these, and her hairs only fall off. How you think of everything!”“But I changed away the sheep for a goose.”“Then we shall have roast goose to eat this year. You dear old man, you are always thinking of something to please me. This is delightful. We can let the goose walk about with a string tied to her leg, so that she will get fatter still before we roast her.”“But I gave away the goose for a fowl.”“A fowl! Well, that was a good exchange,” replied the woman. “The fowl will lay eggs and hatch them, and we shall have chickens. We shall soon have a poultry yard. Oh, this is just what I was wishing for!”“Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shriveled apples.”“What! I must really give you a kiss for that!” exclaimed the wife. “My dear, good husband, now I’ll tell you something. Do you know, almost as soon as you left me this morning, I began thinking of what I could give you nice for supper this evening, and then I thought of fried eggs and bacon, with sweet herbs. I had eggs and bacon but lacked the herbs, so I went over to the schoolmaster’s. I knew they had plenty of herbs, but the schoolmistress is very mean, although she can smile so sweetly. I begged her to lend me a handful of herbs. ‘Lend!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have nothing to lend. I could not even lend you a shriveled apple, my dear woman.’ But now I can lend her ten, or a whole sackful, for which I’m very glad. It makes me laugh to think of it.” Then she gave him a hearty kiss.“Well, I like all this,” said both the Englishmen; “always going down the hill and yet always merry. It’s worth the money to see it.” So they paid a hundredweight of gold to the peasant who, whatever he did, was not scolded but kissed.Yes, it always pays best when the wife sees and maintains that her husband knows best and that whatever he does is right.“What the good-man does is sure to be right!” Illustration by Maude and Miska Petersham, published in Twenty-four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls by Anna Cogswell Tyler (1921), Harcout and Brace.This is a story which I heard when I was a child. And now you have heard it, too, and know that “What the goodman does is always right.”
In the Karnâta dêśa there reigned a famous king named Châmunḍa, who was served by an household priest, named Gunḍappa, well versed in all the rituals at which he officiated.Châmunḍa, one day, while chewing betel-leaves, thus addressed Gunḍappa, who was sitting opposite him:—“My most holy priest, I am greatly pleased at your faithfulness in the discharge of your sacred duties; and you may ask of me now what you wish and I shall grant your request.”The priest elated replied: “I have always had a desire to become the Amildâr(Headman of the village) of a district and to exercise power over a number of people; and if your Majesty should grant me this I shall have attained my ambition.”“Agreed,” said the king, and at that time the Amildârship of Nañjaṅgôḍ happening to be vacant, his Majesty at once appointed his priest to the post, thinking that his priest, who was intelligent in his duties, would do well in the new post. Before he sent him off, however, he gave Gunḍappa three bits of advice:—(1). Mukha kappage irabêku.(2). Ellâru kevianna kachchi mâtan âḍu.(3). ellâr juṭṭu kayyalii irabêku.The meaning of which is:(1). You should always keep a black (i.e. frowning) countenance.(2). When you speak about State affairs you should do it biting the ear (i.e. secretly—close to the ear).(3.) The locks of every one should be in your hand (i.e. you must use your influence and make every one subservient to you).Gunḍappa heard these words so kindly given by the king, and the way in which he listened to them made his Majesty understand that he had taken them to heart. So with a smiling face the king gave the letter containing the appointment to Gunḍappa, who returned home with an elated heart.He told his wife about the change that had come over his prospects, and wished to start at once to take charge of the new post. The king and his officers at once sent messengers to Nañjaṅgôḍ informing the officers of the Amîldârî that a newly appointed Amîldâr would be coming soon. So they all waited near the gate of the town to pay their respects to the new Amîldâr and escort him into it.Gunḍappa started the very next morning to Nañjaṅgôḍ with a bundle containing clean clothes, six by twelve cubits long, on his head. Poor priest! Wherever he saw the kuśa grass on the road, he was drawn to it by its freshness, and kept on storing it up all the way. The sacred grass had become so dear to him, that, though he would have no occasion to use it as Amîldâr of Nañjaṅgôḍ, he could not pass by it without gathering some of it. So with his bundle of clothes on his head and his beloved kuśa grass in his hands, Gunḍappa approached the city of Nañjaṅgôḍ about the twentieth ghaṭikâ of the day.Now, though it was very late in the day, none of the officers, who had come out to receive the Amildâr had returned home to their meals. Everyone was waiting in the gate and when Gunḍappa turned up, no one took him to be anything more than a priest. The bundle on his head and the green ritual grass in his hands proclaimed his vocation. But everyone thought that, as a priest was coming by the very road the Amildâr would take, he might bring news of him—whether he had halted on the road and would or might be expected before the evening. So the next officer in rank to the Amildâr came to the most reverend priest and asked him whether he had any news of the coming Amildâr; on which our hero put down his bundle and taking out the cover containing the order of his appointment with a handful of kuśa grass, lest his clothes be polluted if he touched them with his bare hands informed his subordinate that he was himself the Amildâr!All those assembled were astonished to find such a wretched priest appointed to so responsible a post, but when it was made known that Gunḍappa was the new Amildâr the customary music was played and he was escorted in a manner due to his position, into the town. He had been fasting from the morning, and a grand feast was prepared for him in the house of the next senior official, which Gunḍappa entered for a dinner and rest. He there informed the officials that he would be at the office at the twenty-fifth ghaṭikâ of the evening. From the way in which he issued the order all thought that he was really an able man, and that he had come in the guise of a simple priest in order to find out the real state of his district. So every officer went home, bathed, had his meal in haste and attended at the office.The chief assistant took the Amildâr to his house, and entertained his guest as became his position. Gunḍappa, being a priest, was a very good eater, for never for a day in his life had he spent money out of his own pocket on meals, so what reason had he to enquire about the price of provisions? It was at the expense of others he had grown so fat! And doing more than full justice to all the good things, much to the secret amusement of his host and assistant, Gunḍappa rose up from his food, and washed his hands. He then wanted betel-leaves though to ask for these before the host offers them is very impolite. But his subordinate interpreted it as an order from a master and brought the platter containing the necessary nutmeg, mace, nut, leaves, and chuṇam (lime).“Where is the dakshiṇa?(donation fees given to priests)” next asked the Amildâr. His host did not quite understand whether this was meant in earnest or in joke, but before he could solve the question in his mind:—“Where is the dakshiṇâ?” reiterated the Amildâr, and his assistant, thinking that his new superior was prone to taking bribes, at once brought a bag containing 500 mohars and placed it in the platter. Now a dakshiṇa to a Brâhmiṇ is not usually more than a couple of rupees, but should an Amildâr ask for one, his assistant would naturally mistake him, and think he was hinting at a bribe!Gunḍappa greatly pleased at a princely dakshiṇa such as he had never seen before in all his life, at once opened the bag and counted out every gold piece in it, carefully tying them up in his bundle. He then began to chew his betel, and at one gulp swallowed up all the nutmeg and mace in the platter! All this made his assistant strongly suspect the real nature of the new Amildâr; but then there was the order of the king, and it must be obeyed! Gunḍappa next asked his assistant to go on in advance of him to the office, saying that he would be there himself in a ghaṭikâ. The assistant accordingly left a messenger to attend on the Amildâr, and being very anxious to see things in good order, left his house for the office.Gunḍappa now remembered the three bits of advice given by the king, the first of which was that he should always put on, when in office, a black countenance. Now he understood the word “black” in its literal sense, and not in its allegorical one of “frowning,” and, so going into the kitchen, he asked for a lump of charcoal paste. When this was ready he blackened the whole of his face with it, and covering his face with his cloth—as he was ashamed to show it—entered the office. With his face thus blackened and partly covered with a cloth, the new Amildâr came and took his seat. Now and then he would remove the cloth from his eyes to see how his officers were working, and meanwhile all the clerks and others present were laughing in their sleeves at the queer conduct of their chief.The evening was drawing to a close, and there were certain orders to be signed: so taking them all in his hand the assistant approached the Amildâr, and stood at a respectful distance. Gunḍappa, however, asked him to come nearer, and nearer the assistant came.“Still nearer,” said Gunḍappa, and nearer still came the assistant.The second bit of advice from the king now rushed into the Amildâr’s mind that he should bite the ears of his officials when he enquired into State affairs, and as Gunḍappa’s want of sense always made him take what was said literally, he opened his mouth and bit the ear of his assistant, while in a muffled voice he asked him whether all his people enjoyed full prosperity! The assistant, now in very fear of his life, roared out that all the people were enjoying the greatest prosperity. But Gunḍappa would not let go his ear till the poor assistant had roared out the answer more than twenty times. The poor wretch’s ear soon began to swell enormously, and leaving the office in disgust, he started to report to the king the insane acts of the new Amildâr.Two out of the three bits of advice from the king had now been duly obeyed, but the third, that the locks of all the people must be in his hands, remained unfulfilled, and Gunḍappa wished to carry out that also quickly. Night had now set in, and as the Amildâr still remained in his seat, all his officers were compelled to do the same. In this way the tenth ghaṭikâ of the night approached, and still the Amildâr would not get up, but sat with his black face secured in his cloth, now and then peeping out to see whether they were all asleep or awake. The fact was, he was waiting for an opportunity to have all the locks of his officers in his hand! As soon as all his officers fell asleep he intended to cut off all their locks, as usual understanding the words in their literal sense! At about midnight, never dreaming of the stupid act that the Amildâr was contemplating in his mind, every one fell asleep, and Gunḍappa rose up, and with a pair of scissors cut off all the locks of his officers. He then tied them all up in a bundle and returned to his assistant’s home late at night, where the servants gave him something to eat; after which he started with his bag of mohars and bundle of locks to his king to inform him of how well he had obeyed his orders!In the early morning he reached the presence of his Majesty only a nimisha after his assistant had arrived. Seeing the Amildâr he was too afraid to to lodge any complaint, but his swollen ear drew the attention of every eye in the assembly.Gunḍappa now stood before the king with the charcoal on his face and said:—“Most noble king, you ordered me to blacken my face for my new duty. See, I have not even yet removed the dye! You ordered me next only to speak while biting an ear. Look, please, at my assistant’s ear, who stands before you and tell me whether I have not obeyed you!! And as for having the locks of my officers in my hands; why here they are in this bundle!!!”Never had the king seen a similar instance of such stupidity, and the thought that Gunḍappa had shorn so many respectable heads of their locks, and had really bitten the ear of a worthy gentleman, brought much shame to his heart. He begged pardon of the injured man and from that day forward was very careful in the choice of his officers! Poor Gunḍappa was dismissed even from the priestship, and his belly grew lean from having no longer the privilege of eating rich food at others’ cost!
Jason Squiff was a cistern cleaner. He had greenish yellowish hair. If you looked down into a cistern when he was lifting buckets of slush and mud you could tell where he you could pick him out down in the dark cistern, by the lights of his greenish yellowish hair. Sometimes the buckets of slush and mud tipped over and ran down on the top of his head. This covered his greenish yellowish hair. And then it was hard to tell where he was and it was not easy to pick him out down in the dark where he was cleaning the cistern.One day Jason Squiff came to the Bimber house and knocked on the door. “Did I understand’ he said, speaking to Mrs. Bimber, Blixie Bimber’s mother, “do I understand you sent for me to clean the cistern in your back yard? ”“You understand exactly such,” said Mrs. Bimber, “and you are welcome as the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la-la.”“Then I will go to work and clean the cistern, tra-la-la,” he answered, speaking to Mrs. Bimber.“I’m the guy, tra-la-la,” he said further, running his excellent fingers through his greenish yellowish hair which was shining brightly.He began cleaning the cistern. Blixie Bimber came out in the back yard. She looked down in the cistern. It was all dark. It looked like nothing but all dark down there. By and by she saw something greenish yellowish. She 80 Popcorn Hat, Mittens and Shoes watched it. Soon she saw it was Jason SquifPs head and hair. And then she knew the cistern was being cleaned and Jason Squiff was on the job. So she sang tra-la-la and went back into the house and told her mother Jason Squiff was on the job. The last bucketful of slush and mud came at last for Jason Squiff. He squinted at the bottom. Something was shining. He reached his fingers down through the slush and mud and took out what was shining. It was the gold buckskin whincher Blixie Bimber lost from the gold chain around her neck the week before when she was looking down into the cistern to see what she could see. It was exactly the same gold buckskin whincher shining and glittering like a sign of happiness.“It’s luck,” said Jason Squiff, wiping his fingers on his greenish yellowish hair. Then he put the gold buckskin whincher in his vest pocket and spoke to himself again, “It’s luck.’A little after six o’clock that night he stepped into his house and home and said hello to his wife and daughters. They all began to laugh. Their laughter was a ticklish laughter.“Something funny is happening,” he said.“His hat was popcorn, and his mittens popcorn, and his shoes popcorn.” Illustration by Maud and Miska Petersham, published in Rootabaga Stories by Carl Sandburg (1922), Harcourt, Brace and Company.“And you are it,” they all laughed at him again with ticklish laughter. Then they showed him. His hat was popcorn, his mittens popcorn and his shoes popcorn. He didn’t know the gold buckskin whincher had a power and was working all the time. He didn’t know the whincher in his vest pocket was saying, “You have a letter Q in your name and because you have the pleasure and happiness of having a Q in your name you must have a popcorn hat, popcorn mittens and popcorn shoes.”The next morning he put on another hat, another pair of mittens and another pair of shoes. And the minute he put them on they changed to popcorn. So he tried on all his hats, mittens and shoes. His hat was popcorn, his mittens popcorn and his shoes popcorn Popcorn Hat, Mittens and Shoes Always they changed to popcorn the minute he had them on. He went downtown to the stores. He bought a new hat, mittens and shoes. And the minute he had them on they changed to popcorn. So he decided he would go to work and clean cisterns with his popcorn hat, popcorn mittens and popcorn shoes on. The people of the Village of Cream Puffs enjoyed watching him walk up the street, going to clean cisterns. People five and six blocks away could see him coming and going with his popcorn hat, popcorn mittens and popcorn shoes.When he was down in a cistern the children enjoyed looking down into the cistern to see him work. When none of the slush and mud fell on his hat and mittens he was easy to find. The light of the shining popcorn lit up the whole inside of the cistern. Sometimes, of course, the white popcorn got full of black slush and black mud. And then when Jason Squiff came up and walked home he was not quite so dazzling to look at. It was a funny winter for Jason Squiff.“It’s a crime, a dirty crime,” he said to himself. “Now I can never be alone with my thoughts. Everybody looks at me when I go up the street. If I meet a funeral even the pall bearers begin to laugh at my popcorn hat. If I meet people going to a wedding they throw all the rice at me as if I am a bride and a groom all together. The horses try to eat my hat wherever I go. Three hats I have fed to horses this winter. And if I accidentally drop one of my mittens the chickens eat it.”Then Jason Squiff began to change. He became proud. “I always wanted a white beautiful hat like this white popcorn hat,” he said to himself. “And I always wanted white beautiful mittens and white beautiful shoes like these white popcorn mittens and shoes.”When the boys yelled, “Snow man! yah-de- dah-de-dah, Snow man! He just waved his hand to them with an upward gesture of his arm to show he was proud of how he looked.“They all watch for me,” he said to himself, “I am distinguished, am I not?” he asked himself. And he put his right hand into his left hand and shook hands with himself and said, “You certainly look fixed up.”One day he decided to throw away his vest. In the vest pocket was the gold buckskin whincher, with the power working, the power saying, “You have a letter Q in your name and because you have the pleasure and happiness of having a Q in your name you must have a popcorn hat, popcorn mittens and popcorn shoes.’Yes, he threw away the vest. He forgot all about the gold buckskin whincher being in the vest. He just handed the vest to a rag man. And the rag man put the vest with the gold buckskin whincher in a bag on his back and walked away.After that Jason Squiff was like other people. His hats would never change to popcorn nor his mittens to popcorn nor his shoes to popcorn. And when anybody looked at him down in a cistern cleaning the cistern or when anybody saw him walking along the street they knew him by his greenish yellowish hair which was always full of bright lights. And so if you have a Q in your name, be careful if you ever come across a gold buckskin whincher. Remember different whinchers have different powers.
Once upon a time there lived a rich man who had three sons. When they grew up, he sent the eldest to travel and see the world, and three years passed before his family saw him again. Then he returned, magnificently dressed, and his father was so delighted with his behaviour, that he gave a great feast in his honour, to which all the relations and friends were invited.When the rejoicings were ended, the second son begged leave of his father to go in his turn to travel and mix with the world. The father was enchanted at the request, and gave him plenty of money for his expenses, saying, ‘If you behave as well as your brother, I will do honour to you as I did to him.’ The young man promised to do his best, and his conduct during three years was all that it should be. Then he went home, and his father was so pleased with him that his feast of welcome was even more splendid than the one before.The third brother, whose name was Jenik, or Johnnie, was considered the most foolish of the three. He never did anything at home except sit over the stove and dirty himself with the ashes; but he also begged his father’s leave to travel for three years. ‘Go if you like, you idiot; but what good will it do you?’The youth paid no heed to his father’s observations as long as he obtained permission to go. The father saw him depart with joy, glad to get rid of him, and gave him a handsome sum of money for his needs.Once, as he was making one of his journeys, Jenik chanced to cross a meadow where some shepherds were just about to kill a dog. He entreated them to spare it, and to give it to him instead which they willingly did, and he went on his way, followed by the dog. A little further on he came upon a cat, which someone was going to put to death. He implored its life, and the cat followed him. Finally, in another place, he saved a serpent, which was also handed over to him and now they made a party of four–the dog behind Jenik, the cat behind the dog, and the serpent behind the cat.Then the serpent said to Jenik, ‘Go wherever you see me go,’ for in the autumn, when all the serpents hide themselves in their holes, this serpent was going in search of his king, who was king of all the snakes.Then he added: ‘My king will scold me for my long absence, everyone else is housed for the winter, and I am very late. I shall have to tell him what danger I have been in, and how, without your help, I should certainly have lost my life. The king will ask what you would like in return, and be sure you beg for the watch which hangs on the wall. It has all sorts of wonderful properties, you only need to rub it to get whatever you like.’No sooner said than done. Jenik became the master of the watch, and the moment he got out he wished to put its virtues to the proof. He was hungry, and thought it would be delightful to eat in the meadow a loaf of new bread and a steak of good beef washed down by a flask of wine, so he scratched the watch, and in an instant it was all before him. Imagine his joy!Evening soon came, and Jenik rubbed his watch, and thought it would be very pleasant to have a room with a comfortable bed and a good supper. In an instant they were all before him. After supper he went to bed and slept till morning, as every honest man ought to do. Then he set forth for his father’s house, his mind dwelling on the feast that would be awaiting him. But as he returned in the same old clothes in which he went away, his father flew into a great rage, and refused to do anything for him. Jenik went to his old place near the stove, and dirtied himself in the ashes without anybody minding.The third day, feeling rather dull, he thought it would be nice to see a three-story house filled with beautiful furniture, and with vessels of silver and gold. So he rubbed the watch, and there it all was. Jenik went to look for his father, and said to him: ‘You offered me no feast of welcome, but permit me to give one to you, and come and let me show you my plate.’The father was much astonished, and longed to know where his son had got all this wealth. Jenik did not reply, but begged him to invite all their relations and friends to a grand banquet.So the father invited all the world, and everyone was amazed to see such splendid things, so much plate, and so many fine dishes on the table. After the first course Jenik prayed his father to invite the King, and his daughter the Princess. He rubbed his watch and wished for a carriage ornamented with gold and silver, and drawn by six horses, with harness glittering with precious stones. The father did not dare to sit in this gorgeous coach, but went to the palace on foot. The King and his daughter were immensely surprised with the beauty of the carriage, and mounted the steps at once to go to Jenik’s banquet. Then Jenik rubbed his watch afresh, and wished that for six miles the way to the house should be paved with marble. Who ever felt so astonished as the King? Never had he travelled over such a gorgeous road.When Jenik heard the wheels of the carriage, he rubbed his watch and wished for a still more beautiful house, four stories high, and hung with gold, silver, and damask; filled with wonderful tables, covered with dishes such as no king had ever eaten before. The King, the Queen, and the Princess were speechless with surprise. Never had they seen such a splendid palace, nor such a high feast! At dessert the King asked Jenik’s father to give him the young man for a son-in-law. No sooner said than done! The marriage took place at once, and the King returned to his own palace, and left Jenik with his wife in the enchanted house.Now Jenik was not a very clever man, and at the end of a very short time he began to bore his wife. She inquired how he managed to build palaces and to get so many precious things. He told her all about the watch, and she never rested till she had stolen the precious talisman. One night she took the watch, rubbed it, and wished for a carriage drawn by four horses; and in this carriage she at once set out for her father’s palace. There she called to her own attendants, bade them follow her into the carriage, and drove straight to the sea-side. Then she rubbed her watch, and wished that the sea might be crossed by a bridge, and that a magnificent palace might arise in the middle of the sea. No sooner said than done. The Princess entered the house, rubbed her watch, and in an instant the bridge was gone.Left alone, Jenik felt very miserable. His father, mother, and brothers, and, indeed, everybody else, all laughed at him. Nothing remained to him but the cat and dog whose lives he had once saved. He took them with him and went far away, for he could no longer live with his family. He reached at last a great desert, and saw some crows flying towards a mountain. One of them was a long way behind, and when he arrived his brothers inquired what had made him so late. ‘Winter is here,’ they said, ‘and it is time to fly to other countries.’ He told them that he had seen in the middle of the sea the most wonderful house that ever was built.On hearing this, Jenik at once concluded that this must be the hiding-place of his wife. So he proceeded directly to the shore with his dog and his cat. When he arrived on the beach, he said to the dog: ‘You are an excellent swimmer, and you, little one, are very light; jump on the dog’s back and he will take you to the palace. Once there, he will hide himself near the door, and you must steal secretly in and try to get hold of my watch.’No sooner said than done. The two animals crossed the sea; the dog hid near the house, and the cat stole into the chamber. The Princess recognised him, and guessed why he had come; and she took the watch down to the cellar and locked it in a box. But the cat wriggled its way into the cellar, and the moment the Princess turned her back, he scratched and scratched till he had made a hole in the box. Then he took the watch between his teeth, and waited quietly till the Princess came back. Scarcely had she opened the door when the cat was outside, and the watch into the bargain.The cat was no sooner beyond the gates than she said to the dog:‘We are going to cross the sea; be very careful not to speak to me.’The dog laid this to heart and said nothing; but when they approached the shore he could not help asking, ‘Have you got the watch?’The cat did not answer–he was afraid that he might let the talisman fall. When they touched the shore the dog repeated his question.‘Yes,’ said the cat.And the watch fell into the sea. Then our two friends began each to accuse the other, and both looked sorrowfully at the place where their treasure had fallen in. Suddenly a fish appeared near the edge of the sea. The cat seized it, and thought it would make them a good supper.‘I have nine little children,’ cried the fish. ‘Spare the father of a family!’‘Granted,’ replied the cat; ‘but on condition that you find our watch.’The fish executed his commission, and they brought the treasure back to their master. Jenik rubbed the watch and wished that the palace, with the Princess and all its inhabitants, should be swallowed up in the sea. No sooner said than done. Jenik returned to his parents, and he and his watch, his cat and his dog, lived together happily to the end of their days.
Once upon a time there was an old man who lived all alone. And there was an old woman who lived all alone. The old man was merry and kind and gentle, with a good word and a smile for all the world. The old woman was sour and sad, as cross a patch as could be found in all the country-side. She grumbled and growled for ever, and would not so much as pass the time of day with respectable folk.The old man had a pet sparrow that he kept as the apple of his eye. The sparrow could talk and sing and dance and do all manner of tricks, and was very good company. So the old man found when he came home from his work at night. There would be the sparrow twittering on the doorstep, and “Welcome home, master,” he would say, his head on one side, as pert and pretty as you please.One day the old man went off to cut wood in the mountains. The old woman, she stayed at home for it was her washing day. She made some good starch in a bowl and she put it outside her door to cool.“It will be all ready when I want it,” she said to herself. But that’s just where she made a mistake. The little sparrow flew over the bamboo fence and lighted on the edge of the starch bowl. And he pecked at the starch with his little beak. He pecked and he pecked till all the starch was gone, and a good meal he made, to be sure.Then out came the old woman for the starch to starch her clothes.You may believe she was angry. She caught the little sparrow roughly in her hand, and, alas and alack! she took a sharp, sharp scissors and cut his little tongue. Then she let him go.Away and away flew the little sparrow, over hill and over dale.“And a good riddance, too!” said the cruel old woman.When the old man came home from the mountains he found his pet sparrow gone. And before long he knew all the tale. He lost no time, the good old man; he set out at once on foot, calling “Sparrow, sparrow, where are you, my tongue-cut sparrow?”Over hill and over dale he went, calling “Sparrow, sparrow, where are you, my tongue-cut sparrow?”At last and at length he came to the sparrow’s house, and the sparrow flew out to greet his master. Then there was a twittering, to be sure. The sparrow called his brothers and sisters and his children and his wife and his mother-in-law and his mother and his grandmother. And they all flew out to do the old man honour. They brought him into the house and they set him down upon mats of silk. Then they spread a great feast; red rice and daikon and fish, and who knows what all besides, and the very best saké to drink. The sparrow waited upon the good old man, and his brothers and sisters and his children and his wife and his mother-in-law and his mother and his grandmother with him.After supper the sparrow danced, whilst his grandmother played the samisen and the good old man beat time.It was a merry evening.At last, “All good things come to an end,” says the old man; “I fear ’tis late and high time I was getting home.”“Not without a little present,” says the sparrow.“Ah, sparrow dear,” says the old man, “I’d sooner have yourself than any present.”But the sparrow shook his head.Presently they brought in two wicker baskets.“One of them is heavy,” says the sparrow, “and the other is light. Say, master, will you take the heavy basket or the light?”“I’m not so young as I once was,” says the good old man. “Thanking you kindly, I’d sooner have the light basket; it will suit me better to carry—that is, if it’s the same to you,” he says.So he went home with the light basket. When he opened it, wonderful to tell, it was full of gold and silver and tortoise-shell and coral and jade and fine rolls of silk. So the good old man was rich for life.Now, when the bad old woman heard tell of all this, she tied on her sandals and kilted her skirts and took a stout stick in her hand. Over hill and over dale she went, and took the straight road to the sparrow’s house. There was the sparrow, and there were his brothers and sisters and children and his wife and his mother and his mother-in-law and his grandmother. They were not too pleased to see the bad old woman, but they couldn’t do less than ask her in as she’d come so far. They gave her red rice and white rice and daikon and fish, and who knows what besides, and she gobbled it up in a twinkling, and drank a good cup of saké. Then up she got. “I can’t waste any more time here,” she says, “so you’d best bring out your presents.”They brought in two wicker baskets.“One of them is heavy,” says the sparrow, “and the other is light. Say, mistress, will you take the heavy basket or the light?”“I’ll take the heavy one,” says the old woman, quick as a thought. So she heaved it up on her back and off she set. Sure enough it was as heavy as lead.When she was gone, Lord! how the sparrows did laugh!No sooner did she reach home than she undid the cords of the basket.“Now for the gold and silver,” she said, and smiled—though she hadn’t smiled for a twelve-month. And she lifted up the lid.“Ai! Ai! Kowai! Obaké da! Obaké!” she screeched.The basket was full of ugly imps and elves and pixies and demons and devils. Out they came to tease the old woman, to pull her and to poke her, to push her and to pinch her. She had the fine fright of her life, I warrant you.
Piggiebillah was getting old and not able to do much hunting for himself. Nor did he care so much for the flesh of emu and kangaroo as he did for the flesh of men.He used to entice young men to his camp by various devices, and then kill and eat them.At last the Daens found out what he was doing. They were very angry, and determined to punish him. “We will kill or cripple him,” they said, “so that he, giant though he be, shall be powerless against our people.” A mob of them went and surrounded his camp.He was lying asleep, face downwards, as he did not wish his doowee or dream spirit to leave him, as it might have done had he slept on his back, with his mouth exposed.In his sleep even he seemed to hear a rustling in the leaves, but suspected no evil, saying drowsily to himself: “It is but the Bullah Bullah, or butterflies, fluttering round.” Then he slept on while his enemies closed in round him.Raising their spears, with one accord they threw them at him, until his back was one mass of them sticking up all over it. Then the Daens rushed in, and broke his arms and legs, with their boondees and woggarahs, crippling him indeed. As he made neither sound nor movement, they thought they had killed him, and went back, satisfied with their vengeance, to the camp, meaning to return for their weapons later.As soon as the Daens were gone, Piggiebillah crawled away on all fours to the underground home of his friend, Murgah Muggui the spider. Down he went in through the trap-door, and there he stayed until his wounds were healed.He tried to draw out the spears, but was unable to do so; they stayed in his back for ever, and for ever he went on all fours, as his tribe have done ever since. They, too, as he did, get quickly underground if in danger from enemies.When the Guineeboo or redbreasts, of whose family Piggiebillah’s wife had been one, heard what had happened to him, they lifted up their voices and sang the death wail until its melancholy sounds echoed through the bush, as they rose and fell in wave-like cadences. In their grief they cut their heads with muggil or stone knives, and comeboos or tomahawks, until the blood ran down staining their breasts red, and the breasts of the Guineeboo have been red ever since.
“She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,” cried the young Student; “but in all my garden there is no red rose.”From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.“No red rose in all my garden!” he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears.  “Ah, on what little things does happiness depend!  I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.”“Here at last is a true lover,” said the Nightingale.  “Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him.  His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.”“The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,” murmured the young Student, “and my love will be of the company.  If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn.  If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine.  But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by.  She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break.”“Here indeed is the true lover,” said the Nightingale.  “What I sing of, he suffers—what is joy to me, to him is pain.  Surely Love is a wonderful thing.  It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals.  Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace.  It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.”“The musicians will sit in their gallery,” said the young Student, “and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin.  She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her.  But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her”; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.“Why is he weeping?” asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.“Why, indeed?” said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.“Why, indeed?” whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.“He is weeping for a red rose,” said the Nightingale.“For a red rose?” they cried; “how very ridiculous!” and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air.  She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest song.”But the Tree shook its head.“My roses are white,” it answered; “as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain.  But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest song.”But the Tree shook its head.“My roses are yellow,” it answered; “as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe.  But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student’s window.“Give me a red rose,” she cried, “and I will sing you my sweetest song.”But the Tree shook its head.“My roses are red,” it answered, “as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern.  But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.”“One red rose is all I want,” cried the Nightingale, “only one red rose!  Is there no way by which I can get it?”“There is a way,” answered the Tree; “but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.”“Tell it to me,” said the Nightingale, “I am not afraid.”“If you want a red rose,” said the Tree, “you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart’s-blood.  You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn.  All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.”“Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,” cried the Nightingale, “and Life is very dear to all.  It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.  Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill.  Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?”So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air.  She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.“His lips are sweet as honey.” Illustration by Charles Robinson, published in The Happy Prince and Other Tales by Oscar Wilde (1888), David Nutt.“Be happy,” cried the Nightingale, “be happy; you shall have your red rose.  I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart’s-blood.  All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty.  Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body.  His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.”The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.“Sing me one last song,” he whispered; “I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.”So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.“She has form,” he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—“that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling?  I am afraid not.  In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity.  She would not sacrifice herself for others.  She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish.  Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice.  What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good.”  And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn.  All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened.  All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl.  And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.  Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river—pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn.  As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn.  “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is finished.”So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride.  But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose’s heart remained white, for only a Nightingale’s heart’s-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn.  “Press closer, little Nightingale,” cried the Tree, “or the Day will come before the rose is finished.”So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her.  Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky.  Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.But the Nightingale’s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes.  Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.Then she gave one last burst of music.  The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky.  The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air.  Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams.  It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.“Look, look!” cried the Tree, “the rose is finished now”; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.“Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!” he cried; “here is a red rose!  I have never seen any rose like it in all my life.  It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name”; and he leaned down and plucked it.Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose in his hand.The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.“You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,” cried the Student.  “Here is the reddest rose in all the world.  You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you.”But the girl frowned.“I am afraid it will not go with my dress,” she answered; “and, besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.”“Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,” said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.“Ungrateful!” said the girl.  “I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you?  Only a Student.  Why, I don’t believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has”; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.“What a silly thing Love is,” said the Student as he walked away.  “It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true.  In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.”So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
The elves are the little white creatures that live between heaven and earth. They are not in the clouds, nor down in the caves and mines, like the kabouters. They are bright and fair, dwelling in the air, and in the world of light. The direct heat of the sun is usually too much for them, so they are not often seen during the day, except towards sunset. They love the silvery moonlight. There used to be many folks, who thought they had seen the beautiful creatures, full of fun and joy, dancing hand in hand, in a circle.In these old days, long since gone by, there were more people than there are now, who were sure they had many times enjoyed the sight of the elves. Some places in Holland show, by their names, where this kind of fairies used to live. These little creatures, that looked as thin as gauze, were very lively and mischievous, though they often helped honest and hard working people in their tasks, as we shall see. But first and most of all, they were fond of fun. They loved to vex cross people and to please those who were bonnie and blithe. They hated misers, but they loved the kind and generous. These little folks usually took their pleasure in the grassy meadows, among the flowers and butterflies. On bright nights they played among the moonbeams.There were certain times when the elves were busy, in such a way as to make men and girls think about them. Then their tricks were generally in the stable, or in the field among the cows. Sometimes, in the kitchen or dairy, among the dishes or milk-pans, they made an awful mess for the maids to clean up. They tumbled over the churns, upset the milk jugs, and played hoops with the round cheeses. In a bedroom they made things look as if the pigs had run over them.When a farmer found his horse’s mane twisted into knots, or two cows with their tails tied together, he said at once, “That’s the work of elves.” If the mares did not feel well, or looked untidy, their owners were sure the elves had taken the animals out and had been riding them all night. If a cow was sick, or fell down on the grass, it was believed that the elves had shot an arrow into its body. The inquest, held on many a dead calf or its mother, was, that it died from an “elf-shot.” They were so sure of this, that even when a stone arrow head—such as our far-off ancestors used in hunting, when they were cave men—was picked up off the ground, it was called an “elf bolt,” or “elf-arrow.”Near a certain village named Elf-berg or Elf Hill, because there were so many of the little people in that neighborhood, there was one very old elf, named Styf, which means Stiff, because though so old he stood up straight as a lance. Even more than the young elves, he was famous for his pranks. Sometimes he was nicknamed Haan-e’-kam or Cock’s Comb. He got this name, because he loved to mock the roosters, when they crowed, early in the morning. With his red cap on, he did look like a rooster. Sometimes he fooled the hens, that heard him crowing. Old Styf loved nothing better than to go to a house where was a party indoors. All the wooden shoes of the twenty or thirty people within, men and women, girls and boys, would be left outside the door. All good Dutch folks step out of their heavy timber shoes, or klomps, before they enter a house. It is always a curious sight, at a country church, or gathering of people at a party, to see the klomps, big and little, belonging to baby boys and girls, and to the big men, who wear a number thirteen shoe of wood. One wonders how each one of the owners knows his own, but he does. Each pair is put in its own place, but Old Styf would come and mix them all up together, and then leave them in a pile. So when the people came out to go home, they had a terrible time in finding and sorting out their shoes. Often they scolded each other; or, some innocent boy was blamed for the mischief. Some did not find out, till the next day, that they had on one foot their own, and on another foot, their neighbor’s shoe. It usually took a week to get the klomps sorted out, exchanged, and the proper feet into the right shoes. In this way, which was a special trick with him, this naughty elf, Styf, spoiled the temper of many people.Beside the meadow elves, there were other kinds in Elfin Land; some living in the woods, some in the sand-dunes, but those called Staalkaars, or elves of the stall, were Old Styf’s particular friends. These lived in stables and among the cows. The Moss Maidens, that could do anything with leaves, even turning them into money, helped Styf, for they too liked mischief. They teased men-folks, and enjoyed nothing better than misleading the stupid fellows that fuddled their brains with too much liquor.Styf’s especially famous trick was played on misers. It was this. When he heard of any old fellow, who wanted to save the cost of candles, he would get a kabouter to lead him off in the swamps, where the sooty elves come out, on dark nights, to dance. Hoping to catch these lights and use them for candles, the mean fellow would find himself in a swamp, full of water and chilled to the marrow. Then the kabouters would laugh loudly.Old Styf had the most fun with another stingy fellow, who always scolded children when he found them spending a penny. If he saw a girl buying flowers, or a boy giving a copper coin for a waffle, he talked roughly to them for wasting money. Meeting this miser one day, as he was walking along the brick road, leading from the village, Styf offered to pay the old man a thousand guilders, in exchange for four striped tulips, that grew in his garden. The miser, thinking it real silver, eagerly took the money and put it away in his iron strong box. The next night, when he went, as he did three times a week, to count, and feel, and rub, and gloat, over his cash, there was nothing but leaves in a round form. These, at his touch, crumbled to pieces. The Moss Maidens laughed uproariously, when the mean old fellow was mad about it.But let no one suppose that the elves, because they were smarter than stupid human beings, were always in mischief. No, no! They did, indeed, have far more intelligence than dull grown folks, lazy boys, or careless girls; but many good things they did. They sewed shoes for poor cobblers, when they were sick, and made clothes for children, when the mother was tired. When they were around, the butter came quick in the churn.When the blue flower of the flax bloomed in Holland, the earth, in spring time, seemed like the sky. Old Styf then saw his opportunity to do a good thing. Men thought it a great affair to have even coarse linen tow for clothes. No longer need they hunt the wolf and deer in the forest, for their garments. By degrees, they learned to make finer stuff, both linen for clothes and sails for ships, and this fabric they spread out on the grass until the cloth was well bleached. When taken up, it was white as the summer clouds that sailed in the blue sky. All the world admired the product, and soon the word “Holland” was less the name of a country, than of a dainty fabric, so snow white, that it was fit to robe a queen. The world wanted more and more of it, and the Dutch linen weaver grew rich. Yet still there was more to come.Now, on one moonlight night in summer, the lady elves, beautiful creatures, dressed in gauze and film, with wings to fly and with feet that made no sound, came down into the meadows for their fairy dances. But when, instead of green grass, they saw a white landscape, they wondered, Was it winter?Surely not, for the air was warm. No one shivered, or was cold. Yet there were whole acres as white as snow, while all the old fairy rings, grass and flowers were hidden.They found that the meadows had become bleaching grounds, so that the cows had to go elsewhere to get their dinner, and that this white area was all linen. However, they quickly got over their surprise, for elves are very quick to notice things. But now that men had stolen a march on them, they asked whether, after all, these human beings had more intelligence than elves. Not one of these fairies but believed that men and women were the inferiors of elves.So, then and there, began a battle of wits.“They have spoiled our dancing floor with their new invention; so we shall have to find another,” said the elfin queen, who led the party.“They are very proud of their linen, these men are; but, without the spider to teach them, what could they have done? Even a wild boar can instruct these human beings. Let us show them, that we, also, can do even more. I’ll get Old Styf to put on his thinking cap. He’ll add something new that will make them prouder yet.”“But we shall get the glory of it,” the elves shouted in chorus. Then they left off talking and began their dances, floating in the air, until they looked, from a distance, like a wreath of stars.The next day, a procession of lovely elf maidens and mothers waited on Styf and asked him to devise something that would excel the invention of linen; which, after all, men had learned from the spider.“Yes, and they would not have any grain fields, if they had not learned from the wild boar,” added the elf queen.Old Styf answered “yes” at once to their request, and put on his red thinking cap. Then some of the girl elves giggled, for they saw that he did, really, look like a cock’s comb. “No wonder they called him Haan-e’-kam,” said one elf girl to the other.Now Old Styf enjoyed fooling, just for the fun of it, and he taught all the younger elves that those who did the most work with their hands and head, would have the most fun when they were old.First of all, he went at once to see Fro, the spirit of the golden sunshine and the warm summer showers, who owned two of the most wonderful things in the world. One was his sword, which, as soon as it was drawn out of its sheath, against wicked enemies, fought of its own accord and won every battle. Fro’s chief enemies were the frost giants, who wilted the flowers and blasted the plants useful to man. Fro was absent, when Styf came, but his wife promised he would come next day, which he did. He was happy to meet all the elves and fairies, and they, in turn, joyfully did whatever he told them. Fro knew all the secrets of the grain fields, for he could see what was in every kernel of both the stalks and the ripe ears. He arrived, in a golden chariot, drawn by his wild boar which served him instead of a horse. Both chariot and boar drove over the tops of the ears of wheat, and faster than the wind.The Boar was named Gullin, or Golden Bristles because of its sunshiny color and splendor. In this chariot, Fro had specimens of all the grains, fruits, and vegetables known to man, from which Styf could choose, for these he was accustomed to scatter over the earth.When Styf told him just what he wanted to do, Fro picked out a sheaf of wheat and whispered a secret in his ear. Then he drove away, in a burst of golden glory, which dazzled even the elves, that loved the bright sunshine. These elves were always glad to see the golden chariot coming or passing by.Styf also summoned to his aid the kabouters, and, from these ugly little fellows, got some useful hints; for they, dwelling in the dark caverns, know many secrets which men used to name alchemy, and which they now call chemistry.Then Styf fenced himself off from all intruders, on the top of a bright, sunny hilltop, with his thinking cap on and made experiments for seven days. No elves, except his servants, were allowed to see him. At the end of a week, still keeping his secret and having instructed a dozen or so of the elf girls in his new art, he invited all the elves in the Low Countries to come to a great exhibition, which he intended to give.What a funny show it was! On one long bench, were half a dozen washtubs; and on a table, near by, were a dozen more washtubs; and on a longer table not far away were six ironing boards, with smoothing irons. A stove, made hot with a peat fire, was to heat the irons. Behind the tubs and tables, stood the twelve elf maidens, all arrayed in shining white garments and caps, as spotless as snow. One might almost think they were white elves of the meadow and not kabouters of the mines. The wonder was that their linen clothes were not only as dainty as stars, but that they glistened, as if they had laid on the ground during a hoar frost.Yet it was still warm summer. Nothing had frozen, or melted, and the rosy-faced elf-maidens were as dry as an ivory fan. Yet they resembled the lilies of the garden when pearly with dew-drops.When all were gathered together, Old Styf called for some of the company, who had come from afar, to take off their dusty and travel-stained linen garments and give them to him. These were passed over to the trained girls waiting to receive them. In a jiffy, they were washed, wrung out, rinsed and dried. It was noticed that those elf-maidens, who were standing at the last tub, were intently expecting to do something great, while those five elf maids at the table took off the hot irons from the stove. They touched the bottom of the flat-irons with a drop of water to see if it rolled off hissing. They kept their eyes fixed on Styf, who now came forward before all and said, in a loud voice:“Elves and fairies, moss maidens and stall sprites, one and all, behold our invention, which our great friend Fro and our no less helpful friends, the kabouters, have helped me to produce. Now watch me prove its virtues.”Forthwith he produced before all a glistening substance, partly in powder, and partly in square lumps, as white as chalk. He easily broke up a handful under his fingers, and flung it into the fifth tub, which had hot water in it. After dipping the washed garments in the white gummy mass, he took them up, wrung them out, dried them with his breath, and then handed them to the elf ironers. In a few moments, these held up, before the company, what a few minutes before had been only dusty and stained clothes. Now, they were white and resplendent. No fuller’s earth could have bleached them thus, nor added so glistening a surface.It was starch, a new thing for clothes. The fairies, one and all, clapped their hands in delight.“What shall we name it?” modestly asked Styf of the oldest gnome present.“Hereafter, we shall call you Styf Sterk, Stiff Starch.” They all laughed.Very quickly did the Dutch folks, men and women, hear and make use of the elves’ invention. Their linen closets now looked like piles of snow. All over the Low Countries, women made caps, in new fashions, of lace or plain linen, with horns and wings, flaps and crimps, with quilling and with whirligigs. Soon, in every town, one could read the sign “Hier mangled men” (Here we do ironing).In time, kings, queens and nobles made huge ruffs, often so big that their necks were invisible, and their heads nearly lost from sight, in rings of quilled linen, or of lace, that stuck out a foot or so. Worldly people dyed their starch yellow; zealous folk made it blue; but moderate people kept it snowy white.Starch added money and riches to the nation. Kings’ treasuries became fat with money gained by taxes laid on ruffs, and on the cargoes of starch, which was now imported by the shipload, or made on the spot, in many countries. So, out of the ancient grain came a new spirit that worked for sweetness and beauty, cleanliness, and health. From a useful substance, as old as Egypt, was born a fine art, that added to the sum of the world’s wealth and pleasure.
Across the ocean, in Japan, there once lived curious creatures called Onis. Every Japanese boy and girl has heard of them, though one has not often been caught. In one museum, visitors could see the hairy leg of a specimen. Falling out of the air in a storm, the imp had lost his limb. It had been torn off by being caught in the timber side of a well curb. The story-teller was earnestly assured by one Japanese lad that his grandfather had seen it tumble from the clouds.Many people are sure that the Onis live in the clouds and occasionally fall off, during a peal of thunder. Then they escape and hide down in a well. Or, they get loose in the kitchen, rattle the dishes around, and make a great racket. They behave like cats, with a dog after them. They do a great deal of mischief, but not much harm. There are even some old folks who say that, after all, Onis are only unruly children, that behave like angels in the morning and act like imps in the afternoon. So we see that not much is known about the Onis.Many things that go wrong are blamed on the Onis. Foolish folks, such as stupid maid-servants, and dull-witted fellows, that blunder a good deal, declare that the Onis made them do it. Drunken men, especially, that stumble into mud-holes at night, say the Onis pushed them in. Naughty boys that steal cake, and girls that take sugar, often tell fibs to their parents, charging it on the Onis.The Onis love to play jokes on people, but they are not dangerous. There are plenty of pictures of them in Japan, though they never sat for their portraits, but this is the way they looked.Some Onis have only one eye in their forehead, others two, and, once in a while, a big fellow has three. There are little, short horns on their heads, but these are no bigger than those on a baby deer and never grow long. The hair on their heads gets all snarled up, just like a little girl’s that cries when her tangled tresses are combed out; for the Onis make use of neither brushes nor looking glasses. As for their faces, they never wash them, so they look sooty. Their skin is rough, like an elephant’s. On each of their feet are only three toes. Whether an Oni has a nose, or a snout, is not agreed upon by the learned men who have studied them.No one ever heard of an Oni being higher than a yardstick, but they are so strong that one of them can easily lift two bushel bags of rice at once. In Japan, they steal the food offered to the idols. They can live without air. They like nothing better than to drink both the rice spirit called saké, and the black liquid called soy, of which only a few drops, as a sauce on fish, are enough for a man. Of this sauce, the Dutch, as well as the Japanese, are very fond.Above all things else, the most fun for a young Oni is to get into a crockery shop. Once there, he jumps round among the cups and dishes, hides in the jars, straddles the shelves and turns somersaults over the counter. In fact, the Oni is only a jolly little imp. The Japanese girls, on New Year’s eve, throw handfuls of dried beans in every room of the house and cry, “In, with good luck; and out with you, Onis!” Yet they laugh merrily all the time. The Onis cannot speak, but they can chatter like monkeys. They often seem to be talking to each other in gibberish.Now it once happened in Japan that the great Tycoon of the country wanted to make a present to the Prince of the Dutch. So he sent all over the land, from the sweet potato fields in the south to the seal and salmon waters in the north, to get curiosities of all sorts. The products of Japan, from the warm parts, where grow the indigo and the sugar cane, to the cold regions, in which are the bear and walrus, were sent as gifts to go to the Land of Dykes and Windmills. The Japanese had heard that the Dutch people like cheese, walk in wooden shoes, eat with forks, instead of chopsticks, and the women wear twenty petticoats apiece, while the men sport jackets with two gold buttons, and folks generally do things the other way from that which was common in Japan.Now it chanced that while they were packing the things that were piled up in the palace at Yedo, a young Oni, with his horns only half grown, crawled into the kitchen, at night, through the big bamboo water pipe near the pump. Pretty soon he jumped into the storeroom. There, the precious cups, vases, lacquer boxes, pearl-inlaid pill-holders, writing desks, jars of tea, and bales of silk, were lying about, ready to be put into their cases. The yellow wrappings for covering the pretty things of gold and silver, bronze and wood, and the rice chaff, for the packing of the porcelain, were all at hand. What a jolly time the Oni did have, in tumbling them about and rolling over them! Then he leaped like a monkey from one vase to another. He put on a lady’s gay silk kimono and wrapped himself around with golden embroidery. Then he danced and played the game of the Ka-gu’-ra, or Lion of Korea, pretending to make love to a girl-Oni. Such funny capers as he did cut! It would have made a cat laugh to see him. It was broad daylight, before his pranks were over, and the Dutch church chimes were playing the hour of seven.Suddenly the sound of keys in the lock told him that, in less than a minute, the door would open.Where should he hide? There was no time to be lost. So he seized some bottles of soy from the kitchen shelf and then jumped into the big bottom drawer of a ladies’ cabinet, and pulled it shut.“Namu Amida” (Holy Buddha!), cried the man that opened the door. “Who has been here? It looks like a rat’s picnic.”However, the workmen soon came and set everything to rights. Then they packed up the pretty things. They hammered down the box lids and before night the Japanese curiosities were all stored in the hold of a swift, Dutch ship, from Nagasaki, bound for Rotterdam. After a long voyage, the vessel arrived safely in good season, and the boxes were sent on to The Hague, or capital city. As the presents were for the Prince, they were taken at once to the pretty palace, called the House in the Wood. There they were unpacked and set on exhibition for the Prince and Princess to see the next day.When the palace maid came in next morning to clean up the floor and dust the various articles, her curiosity led her to pull open the drawer of the ladies’ cabinet; when out jumped something hairy. It nearly frightened the girl out of her wits. It was the Oni, which rushed off and down stairs, tumbling over a half dozen servants, who were sitting at their breakfast. All started to run except the brave butler, who caught up a carving knife and showed fight. Seeing this, the Oni ran down into the cellar, hoping to find some hole or crevice for escape. All around, were shelves filled with cheeses, jars of sour-krout, pickled herring, and stacks of fresh rye bread standing in the corners. But oh! how they did smell in his Japanese nostrils! Oni, as he was, he nearly fainted, for no such odors had ever beaten upon his nose, when in Japan. Even at the risk of being carved into bits, he must go back. So up into the kitchen again he ran. Happily, the door into the garden stood wide open.Grabbing a fresh bottle of soy from the kitchen shelf, the Oni, with a hop, skip and jump, reached outdoors. Seeing a pair of klomps, or wooden shoes, near the steps, the Oni put his pair of three toes into them, to keep the dogs from scenting its tracks. Then he ran into the fields, hiding among the cows, until he heard men with pitchforks coming. At once the Oni leaped upon a cow’s back and held on to its horns, while the poor animal ran for its life into its stall, in the cow stable, hoping to brush the monster off.The dairy farmer’s wife was at that moment pulling open her bureau drawer, to put on a new clean lace cap. Hearing her favorite cow moo and bellow, she left the drawer open and ran to look through the pane of glass in the kitchen. Through this, she could peep, at any minute, to see whether this or that cow, or its calf, was sick or well.Meanwhile, at the House in the Wood, the Princess, hearing the maid scream and the servants in an uproar, rushed out in her embroidered white nightie, to ask who, and what, and why, and wherefore. All different and very funny were the answers of maid, butler, cook, valet and boots.The first maid, who had pulled open the drawer and let the Oni get out, held up broom and duster, as if to take oath. She declared:“It was a monkey, or baboon; but he seemed to talk—Russian, I think.”“No,” said the butler. “I heard the creature—a black ram, running on its hind legs; but its language was German, I’m sure.”The cook, a fat Dutch woman, told a long story. She declared, on honor, that it was a black dog like a Chinese pug, that has no hair. However, she had only seen its back, but she was positive the creature talked English, for she heard it say “soy.”The valet honestly avowed that he was too scared to be certain of anything, but was ready to swear that to his ears the words uttered seemed to be Swedish. He had once heard sailors from Sweden talking, and the chatter sounded like their lingo.Then there was Boots, the errand boy, who believed that it was the Devil; but, whatever or whoever it was, he was ready to bet a week’s wages that its lingo was all in French.Now when the Princess found that not one of her servants could speak or understand any language but their own, she scolded them roundly in Dutch, and wound up by saying, “You’re a lot of cheese-heads, all of you.”Then she arranged the wonderful things from the Far East, with her own dainty hands, until the House in the Wood was fragrant with Oriental odors, and soon it became famous throughout all Europe. Even when her grandchildren played with the pretty toys from the land of Fuji and flowers, of silk and tea, cherry blossoms and camphor trees, it was not only the first but the finest Japanese collection in all Europe.Meanwhile, the Oni, in a strange land, got into one trouble after another. In rushed men with clubs, but as an Oni was well used to seeing these at home, he was not afraid. He could outrun, outjump, or outclimb any man, easily. The farmer’s vrouw (wife) nearly fainted when the Oni leaped first into her room and then into her bureau drawer. As he did so, the bottle of soy, held in his three-fingered paw, hit the wood and the dark liquid, as black as tar, ran all over the nicely starched laces, collars and nightcaps. Every bit of her quilled and crimped hear-gear and neckwear, once as white as snow, was ruined.“Donder en Bliksem” (thunder and lightning), cried the vrouw. “There’s my best cap, that cost twenty guilders, utterly ruined.” Then she bravely ran for the broomstick.The Oni caught sight of what he thought was a big hole in the wall and ran into it. Seeing the blue sky above, he began to climb up. Now there were no chimneys in Japan and he did not know what this was. The soot nearly blinded and choked him. So he slid down and rushed out, only to have his head nearly cracked by the farmer’s wife, who gave him a whack of her broomstick. She thought it was a crazy goat that she was fighting. She first drove the Oni into the cellar and then bolted the door.An hour later, the farmer got a gun and loaded it. Then, with his hired man he came near, one to pull open the door, and the other to shoot. What they expected to find was a monster.But no! So much experience, even within an hour, of things unknown in Japan, including chimneys, had been too severe for the poor, lonely, homesick Oni. There it lay dead on the floor, with its three fingers held tightly to its snout and closing it. So much cheese, zuur kool (sour krout), gin (schnapps), advocaat (brandy and eggs), cows’ milk, both sour and fresh, wooden shoes, lace collars and crimped neckwear, with the various smells, had turned both the Oni’s head and his stomach. The very sight of these strange things being so unusual, gave the Oni first fright, and then a nervous attack, while the odors, such as had never tortured his nose before, had finished him.The wise men of the village were called together to hold an inquest. After summoning witnesses, and cross-examining them and studying the strange creature, their verdict was that it could be nothing less than a Hersen Schim, that is, a spectre of the brain. They meant by this that there was no such animal.However, a man from Delft, who followed the business of a knickerbocker, or baker of knickers, or clay marles, begged the body of the Oni. He wanted it to serve as a model for a new gargoyle, or rain spout, for the roof of churches. Carved in stone, or baked in clay, which turns red and is called terra cotta, the new style of monster became very popular. The knickerbocker named it after a new devil, that had been expelled by the prayers of the saints, and speedily made a fortune, by selling it to stone cutters and architects. So for one real Oni, that died and was buried in Dutch soil, there are thousands of imaginary ones, made of baked clay, or stone, in the Dutch land, where things, more funny than in fairy-land, constantly take place.The dead Japanese Oni serving as a model, which was made into a water gutter, served more useful purposes, for a thousand years, than ever he had done, in the land where his relations still live and play their pranks.
Lu-san went to bed without any supper, but her little heart was hungry for something more than food. She nestled up close beside her sleeping brothers, but even in their slumber they seemed to deny her that love which she craved. The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the houseboat, music which had so often lulled her into dreamland, could not quiet her now. Scorned and treated badly by the entire family, her short life had been full of grief and shame.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback.}Lu-san’s father was a fisherman. His life had been one long fight against poverty. He was ignorant and wicked. He had no more feeling of love for his wife and five children than for the street dogs of his native city. Over and over he had threatened to drown them one and all, and had been prevented from doing so only by fear of the new mandarin. His wife did not try to stop her husband when he sometimes beat the children until they fell half dead upon the deck. In fact, she herself was cruel to them, and often gave the last blow to Lu-san, her only daughter. Not on one day in the little girl’s memory had she escaped this daily whipping, not once had her parents pitied her.On the night with which this story opens, not knowing that Lu-san was listening, her father and mother were planning how to get rid of her.“The mandarin cares only about boys,” said he roughly. “A man might kill a dozen girls and he wouldn’t say a word.”“Lu-san’s no good anyway,” added the mother. “Our boat is small, and she’s always in the wrong place.”“Yes, and it takes as much to feed her as if she were a boy. If you say so, I’ll do it this very night.”“All right,” she answered, “but you’d better wait till the moon has set.”“Very well, wife, we’ll let the moon go down first, and then the girl.”No wonder Lu-san’s little heart beat fast with terror, for there could be no doubt as to the meaning of her parents’ words.At last when she heard them snoring and knew they were both sound asleep, she got up silently, dressed herself, and climbed the ladder leading to the deck. Only one thought was in her heart, to save herself by instant flight. There were no extra clothes, not a bite of food to take with her. Besides the rags on her back there was only one thing she could call her own, a tiny soapstone image of the goddess Kwan-yin, which she had found one day while walking in the sand. This was the only treasure and plaything of her childhood, and if she had not watched carefully, her mother would have taken even this away from her. Oh, how she had nursed this idol, and how closely she had listened to the stories an old priest had told about Kwan-yin the Goddess of Mercy, the best friend of women and children, to whom they might always pray in time of trouble.It was very dark when Lu-san raised the trapdoor leading to the outer air, and looked out into the night. The moon had just gone down, and frogs were croaking along the shore. Slowly and carefully she pushed against the door, for she was afraid that the wind coming in suddenly might awaken the sleepers or, worse still, cause her to let the trap fall with a bang. At last, however, she stood on the deck, alone and ready to go out into the big world. As she stepped to the side of the boat the black water did not make her feel afraid, and she went ashore without the slightest tremble.Now she ran quickly along the bank, shrinking back into the shadows whenever she heard the noise of footsteps, and thus hiding from the passers-by. Only once did her heart quake, full of fear. A huge boat dog ran out at her barking furiously. The snarling beast, however, was not dangerous, and when he saw this trembling little girl of ten he sniffed in disgust at having noticed any one so small, and returned to watch his gate.Lu-san had made no plans. She thought that if she could escape the death her parents had talked about, they would be delighted at her leaving them and would not look for her. It was not, then, her own people that she feared as she passed the rows of dark houses lining the shore. She had often heard her father tell of the dreadful deeds done in many of these houseboats. The darkest memory of her childhood was of the night when he had almost decided to sell her as a slave to the owner of a boat like these she was now passing. Her mother had suggested that they should wait until Lu-san was a little older, for she would then be worth more money. So her father had not sold her. Lately, perhaps, he had tried and failed.That was why she hated the river dwellers and was eager to get past their houses. On and on she sped as fast as her little legs could carry her. She would flee far away from the dark water, for she loved the bright sunshine and the land.As Lu-san ran past the last houseboat she breathed a sigh of relief and a minute later fell in a little heap upon the sand. Not until now had she noticed how lonely it was. Over there was the great city with its thousands of sleepers. Not one of them was her friend. She knew nothing of friendship, for she had had no playmates. Beyond lay the open fields, the sleeping villages, the unknown world. Ah, how tired she was! How far she had run! Soon, holding the precious image tightly in her little hand and whispering a childish prayer to Kwan-yin, she fell asleep.When Lu-san awoke, a cold chill ran through her body, for bending over her stood a strange person. Soon she saw to her wonder that it was a woman dressed in beautiful clothes like those worn by a princess. The child had never seen such perfect features or so fair a face. At first, conscious of her own filthy rags, she shrank back fearfully, wondering what would happen if this beautiful being should chance to touch her and thus soil those slender white fingers. As the child lay there trembling on the ground, she felt as if she would like to spring into the fairy creature’s arms and beg for mercy. Only the fear that the lovely one would vanish kept her from so doing. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, the little girl, bending forward, stretched out her hand to the woman, saying, “Oh, you are so beautiful! Take this, for it must be you who lost it in the sand.”The princess took the soapstone figure, eyed it curiously, and then with a start of surprise said, “And do you know, my little creature, to whom you are thus giving your treasure?”“No,” answered the child simply, “but it is the only thing I have in all the world, and you are so lovely that I know it belongs to you. I found it on the river bank.”Then a strange thing happened. The graceful, queenly woman bent over, and held out her arms to the ragged, dirty child. With a cry of joy the little one sprang forward; she had found the love for which she had been looking so long.“My precious child, this little stone which you have kept so lovingly, and which without a thought of self you have given to me—do you know of whom it is the image?”“Yes,” answered Lu-san, the colour coming to her cheeks again as she snuggled up contentedly in her new friend’s warm embrace, “it is the dear goddess Kwan-yin, she who makes the children happy.”“And has this gracious goddess brought sunshine into your life, my pretty one?” said the other, a slight flush covering her fair cheeks at the poor child’s innocent words.“Oh, yes indeed; if it had not been for her I should not have escaped to-night. My father would have killed me, but the good lady of heaven listened to my prayer and bade me stay awake. She told me to wait until he was sleeping, then to arise and leave the houseboat.”“And where are you going, Lu-san, now that you have left your father? Are you not afraid to be alone here at night on the bank of this great river?”“No, oh no! for the blessed mother will shield me. She has heard my prayers, and I know she will show me where to go.”The lady clasped Lu-san still more tightly, and something glistened in her radiant eye. A tear-drop rolled down her cheek and fell upon the child’s head, but Lu-san did not see it, for she had fallen fast asleep in her protector’s arms.When Lu-san awoke, she was lying all alone on her bed in the houseboat, but, strange to say, she was not frightened at finding herself once more near her parents. A ray of sunlight came in, lighting up the child’s face and telling her that a new day had dawned. At last she heard the sound of low voices, but she did not know who were the speakers. Then as the tones grew louder she knew that her parents were talking. Their speech, however, seemed to be less harsh than usual, as if they were near the bed of some sleeper whom they did not wish to wake.“Why,” said her father, “when I bent over to lift her from the bed, there was a strange light about her face. I touched her on the arm, and at once my hand hung limp as if it had been shot. Then I heard a voice whispering in my ears, ‘What! would you lay your wicked hands on one who made the tears of Kwan-yin flow? Do you not know that when she cries the gods themselves are weeping?'”“I too heard that voice,” said the mother, her voice trembling; “I heard it, and it seemed as if a hundred wicked imps pricked me with spears, at every prick repeating these terrible words, ‘And would you kill a daughter of the gods?'”“It is strange,” he added, “to think how we had begun to hate this child, when all the time she belonged to another world than ours. How wicked we must be since we could not see her goodness.”“Yes, and no doubt for every time we have struck her, a thousand blows will be given us by Yama, for our insults to the gods.”Lu-san waited no longer, but rose to dress herself. Her heart was burning with love for everything around her. She would tell her parents that she forgave them, tell them how she loved them still in spite of all their wickedness. To her surprise the ragged clothes were nowhere to be seen. In place of them she found on one side of the bed the most beautiful garments. The softest of silks, bright with flowers—so lovely that she fancied they must have been taken from the garden of the gods—were ready to slip on her little body. As she dressed herself she saw with surprise that her fingers were shapely, that her skin was soft and smooth. Only the day before, her hands had been rough and cracked by hard work and the cold of winter. More and more amazed, she stooped to put on her shoes. Instead of the worn-out soiled shoes of yesterday, the prettiest little satin slippers were there all ready for her tiny feet.Finally she climbed the rude ladder, and lo, everything she touched seemed to be changed as if by magic, like her gown. The narrow rounds of the ladder had become broad steps of polished wood, and it seemed as if she was mounting the polished stairway of some fairy-built pagoda. When she reached the deck everything was changed. The ragged patchwork which had served so long as a sail had become a beautiful sheet of canvas that rolled and floated proudly in the river breeze. Below were the dirty fishing smacks which Lu-san was used to, but here was a stately ship, larger and fairer than any she had ever dreamed of, a ship which had sprung into being as if at the touch of her feet.After searching several minutes for her parents she found them trembling in a corner, with a look of great fear on their faces. They were clad in rags, as usual, and in no way changed except that their savage faces seemed to have become a trifle softened. Lu-san drew near the wretched group and bowed low before them.Her mother tried to speak; her lips moved, but made no sound: she had been struck dumb with fear.“A goddess, a goddess!” murmured the father, bending forward three times and knocking his head on the deck. As for the brothers, they hid their faces in their hands as if dazzled by a sudden burst of sunlight.For a moment Lu-san paused. Then, stretching out her hand, she touched her father on the shoulder. “Do you not know me, father? It is Lu-san, your little daughter.”The man looked at her in wonder. His whole body shook, his lips trembled, his hard brutish face had on it a strange light. Suddenly he bent far over and touched his forehead to her feet. Mother and sons followed his example. Then all gazed at her as if waiting for her command.“Speak, father,” said Lu-san. “Tell me that you love me, say that you will not kill your child.”“Daughter of the gods, and not of mine,” he mumbled, and then paused as if afraid to continue.“What is it, father? Have no fear.”“First, tell me that you forgive me.”The child put her left hand upon her father’s forehead and held the right above the heads of the others, “As the Goddess of Mercy has given me her favour, so I in her name bestow on you the love of heaven. Live in peace, my parents. Brothers, speak no angry words. Oh, my dear ones, let joy be yours for ever. When only love shall rule your lives, this ship is yours and all that is in it.”Thus did Lu-san change her loved ones. The miserable family which had lived in poverty now found itself enjoying peace and happiness. At first they did not know how to live as Lu-san had directed. The father sometimes lost his temper and the mother spoke spiteful words; but as they grew in wisdom and courage they soon began to see that only love must rule.All this time the great boat was moving up and down the river. Its company of sailors obeyed Lu-san’s slightest wish. When their nets were cast overboard they were always drawn back full of the largest, choicest fish. These fish were sold at the city markets, and soon people began to say that Lu-san was the richest person in the whole country.One beautiful day during the Second Moon, the family had just returned from the temple. It was Kwan-yin’s birthday, and, led by Lu-san, they had gone gladly to do the goddess honour. They had just mounted to the vessel’s deck when Lu-san’s father, who had been looking off towards the west, suddenly called the family to his side. “See!” he exclaimed. “What kind of bird is that yonder in the sky?”As they looked, they saw that the strange object was coming nearer and nearer, and directly towards the ship. Every one was excited except Lu-san. She was calm, as if waiting for something she had long expected.“It is a flight of doves,” cried the father in astonishment, “and they seem to be drawing something through the air.”At last, as the birds flew right over the vessel, the surprised onlookers saw that floating beneath their wings was a wonderful chair, all white and gold, more dazzling even than the one they had dreamed the Emperor himself sat in on the Dragon Throne. Around each snow-white neck was fastened a long streamer of pure gold, and these silken ribbons were tied to the chair in such a manner as to hold it floating wherever its light-winged coursers chose to fly.Down, down, over the magic vessel came the empty chair, and as it descended, a shower of pure white lilies fell about the feet of Lu-san, until she, the queen of all the flowers, was almost buried. The doves hovered above her head for an instant, and then gently lowered their burden until it was just in front of her.With a farewell wave to her father and mother, Lu-san stepped into the fairy car. As the birds began to rise, a voice from the clouds spoke in tones of softest music: “Thus Kwan-yin, Mother of Mercies, rewards Lu-san, daughter of the earth. Out of the dust spring the flowers; out of the soil comes goodness. Lu-san! that tear which you drew from Kwan-yin’s eye fell upon the dry ground and softened it; it touched the hearts of those who loved you not. Daughter of earth no longer, rise into the Western Heaven, there to take your place among the fairies, there to be a star within the azure realms above.”As Lu-san’s doves disappeared in the distant skies, a rosy light surrounded her flying car. It seemed to those who gazed in wonder that heaven’s gates were opening to receive her. At last when she was gone beyond their sight, suddenly it grew dark upon the earth, and the eyes of all that looked were wet with tears.
One day Soongoo′ra, the hare, roaming through the forest in search of food, glanced up through the boughs of a very large calabash tree, and saw that a great hole in the upper part of the trunk was inhabited by bees; thereupon he returned to town in search of some one to go with him and help to get the honey.As he was passing the house of Boo′koo, the big rat, that worthy gentleman invited him in. So he went in, sat down, and remarked: “My father has died, and has left me a hive of honey. I would like you to come and help me to eat it.”Of course Bookoo jumped at the offer, and he and the hare started off immediately.When they arrived at the great calabash tree, Soongoora pointed out the bees’ nest and said, “Go on; climb up.” So, taking some straw with them, they climbed up to the nest, lit the straw, smoked out the bees, put out the fire, and set to work eating the honey.In the midst of the feast, who should appear at the foot of the tree but Sim′ba, the lion? Looking up, and seeing them eating, he asked, “Who are you?”Then Soongoora whispered to Bookoo, “Hold your tongue; that old fellow is crazy.” But in a very little while Simba roared out angrily: “Who are you, I say? Speak, I tell you!” This made Bookoo so scared that he blurted out, “It’s only us!”Upon this the hare said to him: “You just wrap me up in this straw, call to the lion to keep out of the way, and then throw me down. Then you’ll see what will happen.”So Bookoo, the big rat, wrapped Soongoora, the hare, in the straw, and then called to Simba, the lion, “Stand back; I’m going to throw this straw down, and then I’ll come down myself.” When Simba stepped back out of the way, Bookoo threw down the straw, and as it lay on the ground Soongoora crept out and ran away while the lion was looking up.After waiting a minute or two, Simba roared out, “Well, come down, I say!” and, there being no help for it, the big rat came down.As soon as he was within reach, the lion caught hold of him, and asked, “Who was up there with you?”“Why,” said Bookoo, “Soongoora, the hare. Didn’t you see him when I threw him down?”“Of course I didn’t see him,” replied the lion, in an incredulous tone, and, without wasting further time, he ate the big rat, and then searched around for the hare, but could not find him.Three days later, Soongoora called on his acquaintance, Ko′bay, the tortoise, and said to him, “Let us go and eat some honey.”“Whose honey?” inquired Kobay, cautiously.“My father’s,” Soongoora replied.“Oh, all right; I’m with you,” said the tortoise, eagerly; and away they went.When they arrived at the great calabash tree they climbed up with their straw, smoked out the bees, sat down, and began to eat.Just then Mr. Simba, who owned the honey, came out again, and, looking up, inquired, “Who are you, up there?”Soongoora whispered to Kobay, “Keep quiet;” but when the lion repeated his question angrily, Kobay became suspicious, and said: “I will speak. You told me this honey was yours; am I right in suspecting that it belongs to Simba?”So, when the lion asked again, “Who are you?” he answered, “It’s only us.” The lion said, “Come down, then;” and the tortoise answered, “We’re coming.”Now, Simba had been keeping an eye open for Soongoora since the day he caught Bookoo, the big rat, and, suspecting that he was up there with Kobay, he said to himself, “I’ve got him this time, sure.”Seeing that they were caught again, Soongoora said to the tortoise: “Wrap me up in the straw, tell Simba to stand out of the way, and then throw me down. I’ll wait for you below. He can’t hurt you, you know.”“All right,” said Kobay; but while he was wrapping the hare up he said to himself: “This fellow wants to run away, and leave me to bear the lion’s anger. He shall get caught first.” Therefore, when he had bundled him up, he called out, “Soongoora is coming!” and threw him down.So Simba caught the hare, and, holding him with his paw, said, “Now, what shall I do with you?” The hare replied, “It’s of no use for you to try to eat me; I’m awfully tough.” “What would be the best thing to do with you, then?” asked Simba.“I think,” said Soongoora, “you should take me by the tail, whirl me around, and knock me against the ground. Then you may be able to eat me.”So the lion, being deceived, took him by the tail and whirled him around, but just as he was going to knock him on the ground he slipped out of his grasp and ran away, and Simba had the mortification of losing him again.Angry and disappointed, he turned to the tree and called to Kobay, “You come down, too.”When the tortoise reached the ground, the lion said, “You’re pretty hard; what can I do to make you eatable?”“Oh, that’s easy,” laughed Kobay; “just put me in the mud and rub my back with your paw until my shell comes off.”Immediately on hearing this, Simba carried Kobay to the water, placed him in the mud, and began, as he supposed, to rub his back; but the tortoise had slipped away, and the lion continued rubbing on a piece of rock until his paws were raw. When he glanced down at them he saw they were bleeding, and, realizing that he had again been outwitted, he said, “Well, the hare has done me to-day, but I’ll go hunting now until I find him.”So Simba, the lion, set out immediately in search of Soongoora, the hare, and as he went along he inquired of every one he met, “Where is the house of Soongoora?” But each person he asked answered, “I do not know.” For the hare had said to his wife, “Let us remove from this house.” Therefore the folks in that neighborhood had no knowledge of his whereabouts. Simba, however, went along, continuing his inquiries, until presently one answered, “That is his house on the top of the mountain.”Without loss of time the lion climbed the mountain, and soon arrived at the place indicated, only to find that there was no one at home. This, however, did not trouble him; on the contrary, saying to himself, “I’ll hide myself inside, and when Soongoora and his wife come home I’ll eat them both,” he entered the house and lay down, awaiting their arrival.Pretty soon along came the hare with his wife, not thinking of any danger; but he very soon discovered the marks of the lion’s paws on the steep path. Stopping at once, he said to Mrs. Soongoora: “You go back, my dear. Simba, the lion, has passed this way, and I think he must be looking for me.”But she replied, “I will not go back; I will follow you, my husband.”Although greatly pleased at this proof of his wife’s affection, Soongoora said firmly: “No, no; you have friends to go to. Go back.”So he persuaded her, and she went back; but he kept on, following the footmarks, and saw—as he had suspected—that they went into his house.“Ah!” said he to himself, “Mr. Lion is inside, is he?” Then, cautiously going back a little way, he called out: “How d’ye do, house? How d’ye do?” Waiting a moment, he remarked loudly: “Well, this is very strange! Every day, as I pass this place, I say, ‘How d’ye do, house?’ and the house always answers, ‘How d’ye do?’ There must be some one inside to-day.”When the lion heard this he called out, “How d’ye do?”Then Soongoora burst out laughing, and shouted: “Oho, Mr. Simba! You’re inside, and I’ll bet you want to eat me; but first tell me where you ever heard of a house talking!”Upon this the lion, seeing how he had been fooled, replied angrily, “You wait until I get hold of you; that’s all.”“Oh, I think you’ll have to do the waiting,” cried the hare; and then he ran away, the lion following.But it was of no use. Soongoora completely tired out old Simba, who, saying, “That rascal has beaten me; I don’t want to have anything more to do with him,” returned to his home under the great calabash tree. 
The black, pyramidal beacon, called Nix’s Mate, is well known to yachtsmen, sailors, and excursionists in Boston harbor. It rises above a shoal,—all that is left of a fair, green island which long ago disappeared in the sea. In 1636 it had an extent of twelve acres, and on its highest point was a gallows where pirates were hanged in chains. One night cries were heard on board of a ship that lay at anchor a little way off shore, and when the watch put off, to see what might be amiss, the captain, named Nix, was found murdered in his bed. There was no direct evidence in the case, and no motive could be assigned for the deed, unless it was the expectancy of promotion on the part of the mate, in case of his commander’s death.It was found, however, that this possibility gave significance to certain acts and sayings of that officer during the voyage, and on circumstantial evidence so slight as this he was convicted and sentenced to death. As he was led to execution he swore that he was not guilty, as he had done before, and from the scaffold he cried aloud, “God, show that I am innocent. Let this island sink and prove to these people that I have never stained my hands with human blood.” Soon after the execution of his sentence it was noticed that the surf was going higher on the shore, that certain rocks were no longer uncovered at low tide, and in time the island wasted away. The colonists looked with awe on this manifestation and confessed that God had shown their wrong.
One fine day it occurred to the Members of the Body that they were doing all the work and the Belly was having all the food. So they held a meeting, and after a long discussion, decided to strike work till the Belly consented to take its proper share of the work. So for a day or two, the Hands refused to take the food, the Mouth refused to receive it, and the Teeth had no work to do. But after a day or two the Members began to find that they themselves were not in a very active condition: the Hands could hardly move, and the Mouth was all parched and dry, while the Legs were unable to support the rest. So thus they found that even the Belly in its dull quiet way was doing necessary work for the Body, and that all must work together or the Body will go to pieces.
Great is the power of friendship, which makes us willingly bear toils and perils to serve a friend. We value our wealth as a trifle and life as a straw, when we can give them for a friend’s sake. Fables teach us this and history is full of instances of it; and I will give you an example which my grandmother used to relate to me. So open your ears and shut your mouths and hear what I shall tell you.There was once a certain King of Long-Trellis named Giannone, who, desiring greatly to have children, continually made prayers to the gods that they would grant his wish; and, in order to incline them the more to his petition, he was so charitable to beggars and pilgrims that he shared with them all he possessed. But seeing, at last, that these things availed him nothing; and that there was no end to putting his hand into his pocket, he bolted fast his door, and shot with a cross-bow at all who came near.Now it happened one day, that a long-bearded pilgrim was passing that way, and not knowing that the King had turned over a new leaf, or perhaps knowing it and wishing to make him change his mind again, he went to Giannone and begged for shelter in his house. But, with a fierce look and terrible growl, the King said to him, “If you have no other candle than this, you may go to bed in the dark. The kittens have their eyes open, and I am no longer a child.” And when the old man asked what was the cause of this change, the King replied, “To further my desire for children, I have spent and lent to all who came and all who went, and have squandered all my treasure. At last, seeing the beard was gone, I stopped shaving and laid aside the razor.”“If that be all,” replied the pilgrim, “you may set your mind at rest, for I promise that your wish shall forthwith be fulfilled, on pain of losing my ears.”“Be it so,” said the King, “I pledge my word that I will give you one half of my kingdom.” And the man answered, “Listen now to me—if you wish to hit the mark, you have only to get the heart of a sea-dragon, and have it cooked and eaten by the Queen, and you will see that what I say will speedily come to pass.”“That hardly seems possible,” said the King, “but at the worst I lose nothing by the trial; so I must, this very moment, get the dragon’s heart.”So he sent a hundred fishermen out; and they got ready all kinds of fishing-tackle, drag-nets, casting-nets, seine-nets, bow-nets, and fishing-lines; and they tacked and turned and cruised in all directions until at last they caught a dragon; then they took out its heart and brought it to the King, who gave it to the Queen to cook and eat. And when she had eaten it, there was great rejoicing, for the King’s desire was fulfilled and he became the father of two sons, so like the other that nobody but the Queen could tell which was which. And the boys grew up together in such love for one another that they could not be parted for a moment. Their attachment was so great that the Queen began to be jealous, at seeing that the son whom she destined to be heir to his father, and whose name was Fonzo, testified more affection for his brother Canneloro than he did for herself. And she knew not in what way to remove this thorn from her eyes.Now one day Fonzo wished to go a-hunting with his brother; so he had a fire lighted in his chamber and began to melt lead to make bullets; and being in want of I know not what, he went himself to look for it. Meanwhile the Queen came in, and finding no one there but Canneloro, she thought to put him out of the world. So stooping down, she flung the hot bullet-mould at his face, which hit him over the brow and made an ugly wound. She was just going to repeat the blow when Fonzo came in; so, pretending that she was only come in to see how he was, she gave him some caresses and went away.Canneloro, pulling his hat down on his forehead, said nothing of his wound to Fonzo, but stood quite quiet though he was burning with the pain. But as soon as they had done making the balls, he told his brother that he must leave him. Fonzo, all in amazement at this new resolution, asked him the reason: but he replied, “Enquire no more, my dear Fonzo, let it suffice that I am obliged to go away and part with you, who are my heart and my soul and the breath of my body. Since it cannot be otherwise, farewell, and keep me in remembrance.” Then after embracing one another and shedding many tears, Canneloro went to his own room. He put on a suit of armour and a sword and armed himself from top to toe; and, having taken a horse out of the stable, he was just putting his foot into the stirrup when Fonzo came weeping and said, “Since you are resolved to abandon me, you should, at least, leave me some token of your love, to diminish my anguish for your absence.” Thereupon Canneloro struck his dagger into the ground, and instantly a fine fountain rose up. Then said he to his twin-brother, “This is the best memorial I can leave you. By the flowing of this fountain you will follow the course of my life. If you see it run clear, know that my life is likewise clear and tranquil. If it is turbid, think that I am passing through troubles; and if it is dry, depend on it that the oil of my life is all consumed and that I have paid the toll which belongs to Nature!”Then he drove his sword into the ground, and immediately a myrtle-tree grew up, when he said, “As long as this myrtle is green, know that I too am green as a leek. If you see it wither, think that my fortunes are not the best in this world; but if it becomes quite dried up, you may mourn for your Canneloro.”So saying, after embracing one another again, Canneloro set out on his travels; journeying on and on, with many adventures which it would be too long to recount—he at length arrived at the Kingdom of Clear-Water, just at the time when they were holding a most splendid tournament, the hand of the King’s daughter being promised to the victor. Here Canneloro presented himself and bore him so bravely that he overthrew all the knights who were come from divers parts to gain a name for themselves. Whereupon he married the Princess Fenicia, and a great feast was made.When Canneloro had been there some months in peace and quiet, an unhappy fancy came into his head for going to the chase. He told it to the King, who said to him, “Take care, my son-in-law; do not be deluded. Be wise and keep open your eyes, for in these woods is a most wicked ogre who changes his form every day, one time appearing like a wolf, at another like a lion, now like a stag, now like an ass, like one thing and now like another. By a thousand stratagems he decoys those who are so unfortunate as to meet him into a cave, where he devours them. So, my son, do not put your safety into peril, or you will leave your rags there.”Canneloro, who did not know what fear was, paid no heed to the advice of his father-in-law. As soon as the Sun with the broom of his rays had cleared away the soot of the Night he set out for the chase; and, on his way, he came to a wood where, beneath the awning of the leaves, the Shades has assembled to maintain their sway, and to make a conspiracy against the Sun. The ogre, seeing him coming, turned himself into a handsome doe; which, as soon as Canneloro perceived he began to give chase to her. Then the doe doubled and turned, and led him about hither and thither at such a rate, that at last she brought him into the very heart of the wood, where she raised such a tremendous snow-storm that it looked as if the sky was going to fall. Canneloro, finding himself in front of a cave, went into it to seek for shelter; and being benumbed with the cold, he gathered some sticks which he found within it, and pulling his steel from his pocket, he kindled a large fire. As he was standing by the fire to dry his clothes, the doe came to the mouth of the cave, and said, “Sir Knight, pray give me leave to warm myself a little while, for I am shivering with the cold.”Canneloro, who was of a kindly disposition, said to her, “Draw near, and welcome.”“I would gladly,” replied the doe, “but I am afraid you would kill me.”“Fear nothing,” answered Canneloro, “trust to my word.”“If you wish me to enter,” rejoined the doe, “tie up those dogs, that they may not hurt me, and tie up your horse that he may not kick me.”So Canneloro tied up his dogs and hobbled his horse, and the doe said, “I am now half assured, but unless you bind fast your sword, I dare not come in.” Then Canneloro, who wished to become friends with the doe, bound his sword as a countryman does, when he carries it in the city for fear of the constables. As soon as the ogre saw Canneloro defenceless, he re-took his own form, and laying hold on him, flung him into a pit at the bottom of the cave, and covered it up with a stone—to keep him to eat.But Fonzo, who, morning and evening visited the myrtle and the fountain, to learn news of the fate of Canneloro, finding the one withered and the other troubled, instantly thought that his brother was undergoing misfortunes. So, to help him, he mounted his horse without asking leave of his father or mother; and arming himself well and taking two enchanted dogs, he went rambling through the world. He roamed and rambled here, there, and everywhere until, at last, he came to Clear-Water, which he found all in mourning for the supposed death of Canneloro. And scarcely was he come to the court, when every one, thinking, from the likeness he bore him, that it was Canneloro, hastened to tell Fenicia the good news, who ran leaping down the stairs, and embracing Fonzo cried, “My husband! my heart! where have you been all this time?”Fonzo immediately perceived that Canneloro had come to this country and had left it again; so he resolved to examine the matter adroitly, to learn from the Princess’s discourse where his brother might be found. And, hearing her say that he had put himself in great danger by that accursed hunting, especially if the cruel ogre should meet him, he at once concluded that Canneloro must be there.The next morning, as soon as the Sun had gone forth to give the gilded frills to the Sky, he jumped out of bed, and neither the prayers of Fenicia, nor the commands of the King could keep him back, but he would go to the chase. So, mounting his horse, he went with the enchanted dogs to the wood, where the same thing befell him that had befallen Canneloro; and, entering the cave, he saw his brother’s arms and dogs and horse fast bound, by which he became assured of the nature of the snare. Then the doe told him in like manner to tie his arms, dogs, and horse, but he instantly set them upon her and they tore her to pieces. And as he was looking about for some traces of his brother, he heard his voice down in the pit; so, lifting up the stone, he drew out Canneloro, with all the others whom the ogre had buried alive to fatten. Then embracing each other with great joy, the twin-brothers went home, where Fenicia, seeing them so much alike, did not know which to choose for her husband, until Canneloro took off his cap and she saw the mark of the old wound and recognised him. Fonzo stayed there a month, taking his pleasure, and then wished to return to his own country, and Canneloro wrote by him to his mother, bidding her lay aside her enmity and come and visit him and partake of his greatness, which she did. But from that time forward, he never would hear of dogs or of hunting, recollecting the saying—“Unhappy is he who corrects himself at his own cost.”
We had such an excellent dinner yesterday,” said an old lady-mouse to another who had not been present at the feast. “I sat number twenty-one below the mouse-king, which was not a bad place. Shall I tell you what we had? Everything was excellent—moldy bread, tallow candle, and sausage.“Then, when we had finished that course, the same came on all over again; it was as good as two feasts. We were very sociable, and there was as much joking and fun as if we had been all of one family circle. Nothing was left but the sausage skewers, and this formed a subject of conversation till at last some one used the expression, ‘Soup from sausage sticks’; or, as the people in the neighboring country call it, ‘Soup from a sausage skewer.’“Every one had heard the expression, but no one had ever tasted the soup, much less prepared it. A capital toast was drunk to the inventor of the soup, and some one said he ought to be made a relieving officer to the poor. Was not that witty?“Then the old mouse-king rose and promised that the young lady-mouse who should learn how best to prepare this much-admired and savory soup should be his queen, and a year and a day should be allowed for the purpose.”“That was not at all a bad proposal,” said the other mouse; “but how is the soup made?”“Ah, that is more than I can tell you. All the young lady-mice were asking the same question. They wish very much to be the queen, but they do not want to take the trouble to go out into the world to learn how to make soup, which it is absolutely necessary to do first.“It is not every one who would care to leave her family or her happy corner by the fireside at home, even to be made queen. It is not always easy in foreign lands to find bacon and cheese rind every day, and, after all, it is not pleasant to endure hunger and perhaps be eaten alive by the cat.”Probably some such thoughts as these discouraged the majority from going out into the world to collect the required information. Only four mice gave notice that they were ready to set out on the journey.They were young and sprightly, but poor. Each of them wished to visit one of the four divisions of the world, to see which of them would be most favored by fortune. Each took a sausage skewer as a traveler’s staff and to remind her of the object of her journey.They left home early in May, and none of them returned till the first of May in the following year, and then only three of them. Nothing was seen or heard of the fourth, although the day of decision was close at hand. “Ah, yes, there is always some trouble mingled with the greatest pleasure,” said the mouse-king. But he gave orders that all the mice within a circle of many miles should be invited at once.They were to assemble in the kitchen, and the three travelers were to stand in a row before them, and a sausage skewer covered with crape was to stand in the place of the missing mouse. No one dared express an opinion until the king spoke and desired one of them to proceed with her story. And now we shall hear what she said.WHAT THE FIRST LITTLE MOUSE SAW AND HEARD ON HER TRAVELS“When I first went out into the world,” said the little mouse, “I fancied, as so many of my age do, that I already knew everything—but it was not so. It takes years to acquire great knowledge.“I went at once to sea, in a ship bound for the north. I had been told that the ship’s cook must know how to prepare every dish at sea, and it is easy enough to do that with plenty of sides of bacon, and large tubs of salt meat and musty flour. There I found plenty of delicate food but no opportunity to learn how to make soup from a sausage skewer.“We sailed on for many days and nights; the ship rocked fearfully, and we did not escape without a wetting. As soon as we arrived at the port to which the ship was bound, I left it and went on shore at a place far towards the north. It is a wonderful thing to leave your own little corner at home, to hide yourself in a ship where there are sure to be some nice snug corners for shelter, then suddenly to find yourself thousands of miles away in a foreign land.“I saw large, pathless forests of pine and birch trees, which smelt so strong that I sneezed and thought of sausage. There were great lakes also, which looked as black as ink at a distance but were quite clear when I came close to them. Large swans were floating upon them, and I thought at first they were only foam, they lay so still; but when I saw them walk and fly, I knew directly what they were. They belonged to the goose species. One could see that by their walk, for no one can successfully disguise his family descent.“I kept with my own kind and associated with the forest and field mice, who, however, knew very little—especially about what I wanted to know and what had actually made me travel abroad.“The idea that soup could be made from a sausage skewer was so startling to them that it was repeated from one to another through the whole forest. They declared that the problem would never be solved—that the thing was an impossibility. How little I thought that in this place, on the very first night, I should be initiated into the manner of its preparation!“It was the height of summer, which the mice told me was the reason that the forest smelt so strong, and that the herbs were so fragrant, and that the lakes with the white, swimming swans were so dark and yet so clear.“On the margin of the wood, near several houses, a pole as large as the mainmast of a ship had been erected, and from the summit hung wreaths of flowers and fluttering ribbons. It was the Maypole. Lads and lasses danced round it and tried to outdo the violins of the musicians with their singing. They were as gay as ever at sunset and in the moonlight, but I took no part in the merrymaking. What has a little mouse to do with a Maypole dance? I sat in the soft moss and held my sausage skewer tight. The moon shone particularly bright on one spot where stood a tree covered with very fine moss. I may almost venture to say that it was as fine and soft as the fur of the mouse-king, but it was green, which is a color very agreeable to the eye.“All at once I saw the most charming little people marching towards me. They did not reach higher than my knee, although they looked like human beings but were better proportioned. They called themselves elves, and wore clothes that were very delicate and fine, for they were made of the leaves of flowers, trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats. The effect was by no means bad.“They seemed to be seeking something—I knew not what, till at last one of them espied me. They came towards me, and the foremost pointed to my sausage skewer, saying: ‘There, that is just what we want. See, it is pointed at the top; is it not capital?’ The longer he looked at my pilgrim’s staff the more delighted he became.“‘I will lend it to you,’ said I, ‘but not to keep.’“‘Oh, no, we won’t keep it!’ they all cried. Then they seized the skewer, which I gave up to them, and dancing with it to the tree covered with delicate moss, set it up in the middle of the green. They wanted a Maypole, and the one they now had seemed made especially for them. This they decorated so beautifully that it was quite dazzling to look at. Little spiders spun golden threads around it, and it was hung with fluttering veils and flags, as delicately white as snow glittering in the moonlight. Then they took colors from the butterfly’s wing, sprinkling them over the white drapery until it gleamed as if covered with flowers and diamonds, and I could no longer recognize my sausage skewer. Such a Maypole as this has never been seen in all the world.“Then came a great company of real elves. Nothing could be finer than their clothes. They invited me to be present at the feast, but I was to keep at a certain distance because I was too large for them. Then began music that sounded like a thousand glass bells, and was so full and strong that I thought it must be the song of the swans. I fancied also that I heard the voices of the cuckoo and the blackbird, and it seemed at last as if the whole forest sent forth glorious melodies—the voices of children, the tinkling of bells, and the songs of the birds. And all this wonderful melody came from the elfin Maypole. My sausage peg was a complete peal of bells. I could scarcely believe that so much could have been produced from it, till I remembered into what hands it had fallen. I was so much affected that I wept tears such as a little mouse can weep, but they were tears of joy.“The night was far too short for me; there are no long nights there in summer, as we often have in this part of the world. When the morning dawned and the gentle breeze rippled the glassy mirror of the forest lake, all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away into thin air. The waving garlands of the spider’s web, the hanging bridges and galleries, or whatever else they may be called, vanished away as if they had never been. Six elves brought me back my sausage skewer and at the same time asked me to make any request, which they would grant if it lay in their power. So I begged them, if they could, to tell me how to make soup from a sausage skewer.“‘How do we make it?’ asked the chief of the elves, with a smile. ‘Why, you have just seen us. You scarcely knew your sausage skewer again, I am sure.’“‘They think themselves very wise,’ thought I to myself. Then I told them all about it, and why I had traveled so far, and also what promise had been made at home to the one who should discover the method of preparing this soup.“‘What good will it do the mouse-king or our whole mighty kingdom,’ I asked, ‘for me to have seen all these beautiful things? I cannot shake the sausage peg and say, “Look, here is the skewer, and now the soup will come.” That would only produce a dish to be served when people were keeping a fast.’“Then the elf dipped his finger into the cup of a violet and said, ‘Look, I will anoint your pilgrim’s staff, so that when you return to your home and enter the king’s castle, you have only to touch the king with your staff and violets will spring forth, even in the coldest winter time. I think I have given you something worth carrying home, and a little more than something.'”Before the little mouse explained what this something more was, she stretched her staff toward the king, and as it touched him the most beautiful bunch of violets sprang forth and filled the place with their perfume. The smell was so powerful that the mouse-king ordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tails into the fire that there might be a smell of burning, for the perfume of the violets was overpowering and not the sort of scent that every one liked.“But what was the something more, of which you spoke just now?” asked the mouse-king.“Why,” answered the little mouse, “I think it is what they call ‘effect.'” Thereupon she turned the staff round, and behold, not a single flower was to be seen on it! She now held only the naked skewer, and lifted it up as a conductor lifts his baton at a concert.“Violets, the elf told me,” continued the mouse, “are for the sight, the smell, and the touch; so we have only to produce the effect of hearing and tasting.” Then, as the little mouse beat time with her staff, there came sounds of music; not such music as was heard in the forest, at the elfin feast, but such as is often heard in the kitchen—the sounds of boiling and roasting. It came quite suddenly, like wind rushing through the chimneys, and it seemed as if every pot and kettle were boiling over.The fire shovel clattered down on the brass fender, and then, quite as suddenly, all was still,—nothing could be heard but the light, vapory song of the teakettle, which was quite wonderful to hear, for no one could rightly distinguish whether the kettle was just beginning to boil or just going to stop. And the little pot steamed, and the great pot simmered, but without any regard for each other; indeed, there seemed no sense in the pots at all. As the little mouse waved her baton still more wildly, the pots foamed and threw up bubbles and boiled over, while again the wind roared and whistled through the chimney, and at last there was such a terrible hubbub that the little mouse let her stick fall.“That is a strange sort of soup,” said the mouse-king. “Shall we not now hear about the preparation?”“That is all,” answered the little mouse, with a bow.“That all!” said the mouse-king; “then we shall be glad to hear what information the next may have to give us.”WHAT THE SECOND MOUSE HAD TO TELL“I was born in the library, at a castle,” said the second mouse. “Very few members of our family ever had the good fortune to get into the dining room, much less into the storeroom. To-day and while on my journey are the only times I have ever seen a kitchen. We were often obliged to suffer hunger in the library, but we gained a great deal of knowledge. The rumor reached us of the royal prize offered to those who should be able to make soup from a sausage skewer.“Then my old grandmother sought out a manuscript,—which she herself could not read, to be sure, but she had heard it read,—and in it were written these words, ‘Those who are poets can make soup of sausage skewers.’ She asked me if I was a poet. I told her I felt myself quite innocent of any such pretensions. Then she said I must go out and make myself a poet. I asked again what I should be required to do, for it seemed to me quite as difficult as to find out how to make soup of a sausage skewer. My grandmother had heard a great deal of reading in her day, and she told me that three principal qualifications were necessary—understanding, imagination, and feeling. ‘If you can manage to acquire these three, you will be a poet, and the sausage-skewer soup will seem quite simple to you.’“So I went forth into the world and turned my steps toward the west, that I might become a poet. Understanding is the most important matter of all. I was sure of that, for the other two qualifications are not thought much of; so I went first to seek understanding. Where was I to find it?“‘Go to the ant and learn wisdom,’ said the great Jewish king. I learned this from living in a library. So I went straight on till I came to the first great ant hill. There I set myself to watch, that I might become wise. The ants are a very respectable people; they are wisdom itself. All they do is like the working of a sum in arithmetic, which comes right. ‘To work, and to lay eggs,’ say they, ‘and to provide for posterity, is to live out your time properly.’ This they truly do. They are divided into clean and dirty ants, and their rank is indicated by a number. The ant-queen is number One. Her opinion is the only correct one on everything, and she seems to have in her the wisdom of the whole world. This was just what I wished to acquire. She said a great deal that was no doubt very clever—yet it sounded like nonsense to me. She said the ant hill was the loftiest thing in the world, although close to the mound stood a tall tree which no one could deny was loftier, much loftier. Yet she made no mention of the tree.“One evening an ant lost herself on this tree. She had crept up the stem, not nearly to the top but higher than any ant had ever ventured, and when at last she returned home she said that she had found something in her travels much higher than the ant hill. The rest of the ants considered this an insult to the whole community, and condemned her to wear a muzzle and live in perpetual solitude.“A short time afterwards another ant got on the tree and made the same journey and the same discovery. But she spoke of it cautiously and indefinitely, and as she was one of the superior ants and very much respected, they believed her. And when she died they erected an egg-shell as a monument to her memory, for they cultivated a great respect for science.“I saw,” said the little mouse, “that the ants were always running to and fro with their burdens on their backs. Once I saw one of them, who had dropped her load, try very hard to raise it again, but she did not succeed. Two others came up and tried with all their strength to help her, till they nearly dropped their own burdens. Then they were obliged to stop a moment, for every one must think of himself first. The ant-queen remarked that their conduct that day showed that they possessed kind hearts and good understanding. ‘These two qualities,’ she continued, ‘place us ants in the highest degree above all other reasonable beings. Understanding must therefore stand out prominently among us, and my wisdom is greatest.’ So saying, she raised herself on her two hind legs, that no one else might be mistaken for her. I could not, therefore, have made a mistake, so I ate her up. We are to go to the ants to learn wisdom, and I had secured the queen.“I now turned and went nearer to the lofty tree already mentioned, which was an oak. It had a tall trunk, with a wide-spreading top, and was very old. I knew that a living being dwelt here, a dryad, as she is called, who is born with the tree and dies with it. I had heard this in the library, and here was just such a tree and in it an oak maiden. She uttered a terrible scream when she caught sight of me so near to her. Like women, she was very much afraid of mice, and she had more real cause for fear than they have, for I might have gnawed through the tree on which her life depended.“I spoke to her in a friendly manner and begged her to take courage. At last she took me up in her delicate hand, and I told her what had brought me out into the world. She told me that perhaps on that very evening she would be able to obtain for me one of the two treasures for which I was seeking. She told me that Phantæsus, the genius of the imagination, was her very dear friend; that he was as beautiful as the god of love; that he rested many an hour with her under the leafy boughs of the tree, which then rustled and waved more than ever. He called her his dryad, she said, and the tree his tree, for the grand old oak with its gnarled trunk was just to his taste. The root, which spread deep into the earth, and the top, which rose high in the fresh air, knew the value of the drifting snow, the keen wind, and the warm sunshine, as it ought to be known. ‘Yes,’ continued the dryad, ‘the birds sing up above in the branches and talk to each other about the beautiful fields they have visited in foreign lands. On one of the withered boughs a stork has built his nest—it is beautifully arranged, and, besides, it is pleasant to hear a little about the land of the pyramids. All this pleases Phantæsus, but it is not enough for him. I am obliged to relate to him of my life in the woods and to go back to my childhood, when I was little and the tree so small and delicate that a stinging nettle could overshadow it, and I have to tell everything that has happened since then until now, when the tree is so large and strong. Sit you down now under the green bindwood and pay attention. When Phantæsus comes I will find an opportunity to lay hold of his wing and to pull out one of the little feathers. That feather you shall have. A better was never given to any poet, and it will be quite enough for you.’“And when Phantæsus came the feather was plucked,” said the little mouse, “and I seized and put it in water and kept it there till it was quite soft. It was very heavy and indigestible, but I managed to nibble it up at last. It is not so easy to nibble oneself into a poet, there are so many things to get through. Now, however, I had two of them, understanding and imagination, and through these I knew that the third was to be found in the library.“A great man has said and written that there are novels whose sole and only use appears to be to attempt to relieve mankind of overflowing tears—a kind of sponge, in fact, for sucking up feelings and emotions. I remembered a few of these books. They had always appeared tempting to the appetite, for they had been much read and were so greasy that they must have absorbed no end of emotions in themselves.“I retraced my steps to the library and literally devoured a whole novel—that is, properly speaking, the interior, or soft part of it. The crust, or binding, I left. When I had digested not only this, but a second, I felt a stirring within me. I then ate a small piece of a third romance and felt myself a poet. I said it to myself and told others the same. I had headache and backache and I cannot tell what aches besides. I thought over all the stories that may be said to be connected with sausage pegs; and all that has ever been written about skewers, and sticks, and staves, and splinters came to my thoughts—the ant-queen must have had a wonderfully clear understanding. I remembered the man who placed in his mouth a white stick, by which he could make himself and the stick invisible. I thought of sticks as hobbyhorses, staves of music or rime, of breaking a stick over a man’s back, and of Heaven knows how many more phrases of the same sort, relating to sticks, staves, and skewers. All my thoughts ran on skewers, sticks of wood, and staves. As I am at last a poet and have worked terribly hard to make myself one, I can of course make poetry on anything. I shall therefore be able to wait upon you every day in the week with a poetical history of a skewer. And that is my soup.”“In that case,” said the mouse-king, “we will hear what the third mouse has to say.”“Squeak, squeak,” cried a little mouse at the kitchen door. It was the fourth, and not the third, of the four who were contending for the prize, the one whom the rest supposed to be dead. She shot in like an arrow and overturned the sausage peg that had been covered with crape. She had been running day and night, for although she had traveled in a baggage train, by railway, yet she had arrived almost too late. She pressed forward, looking very much ruffled.She had lost her sausage skewer but not her voice, and she began to speak at once, as if they waited only for her and would hear her only—as if nothing else in the world were of the least consequence. She spoke out so clearly and plainly, and she had come in so suddenly, that no one had time to stop her or to say a word while she was speaking. This is what she said.WHAT THE FOURTH MOUSE, WHO SPOKE BEFORE THE THIRD, HAD TO TELL“I started off at once to the largest town,” said she, “but the name of it has escaped me. I have a very bad memory for names. I was carried from the railway, with some goods on which duties had not been paid, to the jail, and on arriving I made my escape, running into the house of the keeper. He was speaking of his prisoners, especially of one who had uttered thoughtless words. These words had given rise to other words, and at length they were written down and registered. ‘The whole affair is like making soup of sausage skewers,’ said he, ‘but the soup may cost him his neck.’“Now this raised in me an interest for the prisoner,” continued the little mouse, “and I watched my opportunity and slipped into his apartment, for there is a mousehole to be found behind every closed door.“The prisoner, who had a great beard and large, sparkling eyes, looked pale. There was a lamp burning, but the walls were so black that they only looked the blacker for it. The prisoner scratched pictures and verses with white chalk on the black walls, but I did not read the verses. I think he found his confinement wearisome, so that I was a welcome guest. He enticed me with bread crumbs, with whistling, and with gentle words, and seemed so friendly towards me that by degrees I gained confidence in him and we became friends. He divided his bread and water with me and gave me cheese and sausage, and I began to love him. Altogether, I must own that it was a very pleasant intimacy. He let me run about on his hand, on his arm, into his sleeve, and even into his beard. He called me his little friend, and I forgot for what I had come out into the world; forgot my sausage skewer, which I had laid in a crack in the floor, where it is still lying. I wished to stay with him always, for I knew that if I went away, the poor prisoner would have no one to be his friend, which is a sad thing.“I stayed, but he did not. He spoke to me so mournfully for the last time, gave me double as much bread and cheese as usual, and kissed his hand to me. Then he went away and never came back. I know nothing more of his history.“The jailer took possession of me now. He said something about soup from a sausage skewer, but I could not trust him. He took me in his hand, certainly, but it was to place me in a cage like a treadmill. Oh, how dreadful it was! I had to run round and round without getting any farther, and only to make everybody laugh.“The jailer’s granddaughter was a charming little thing. She had merry eyes, curly hair like the brightest gold, and such a smiling mouth.“‘You poor little mouse,’ said she one day, as she peeped into my cage, ‘I will set you free.’ She then drew forth the iron fastening, and I sprang out on the window-sill, and from thence to the roof. Free! free! that was all I could think of, and not of the object of my journey.“It grew dark, and as night was coming on I found a lodging in an old tower, where dwelt a watchman and an owl. I had no confidence in either of them, least of all in the owl, which is like a cat and has a great failing, for she eats mice. One may, however, be mistaken sometimes, and I was now, for this was a respectable and well-educated old owl, who knew more than the watchman and even as much as I did myself. The young owls made a great fuss about everything, but the only rough words she would say to them were, ‘You had better go and try to make some soup from sausage skewers.’ She was very indulgent and loving to her own children. Her conduct gave me such confidence in her that from the crack where I sat I called out ‘Squeak.’“This confidence pleased her so much that she assured me she would take me under her own protection and that not a creature should do me harm. The fact was, she wickedly meant to keep me in reserve for her own eating in the winter, when food would be scarce. Yet she was a very clever lady-owl. She explained to me that the watchman could only hoot with the horn that hung loose at his side and that he was so terribly proud of it that he imagined himself an owl in the tower, wanted to do great things, but only succeeded in small—soup from a sausage skewer.“Then I begged the owl to give me the recipe for this soup. ‘Soup from a sausage skewer,’ said she, ‘is only a proverb amongst mankind and may be understood in many ways. Each believes his own way the best, and, after all, the proverb signifies nothing.’ ‘Nothing!’ I exclaimed. I was quite struck. Truth is not always agreeable, but truth is above everything else, as the old owl said. I thought over all this and saw quite plainly that if truth was really so far above everything else, it must be much more valuable than soup from a sausage skewer. So I hastened to get away, that I might be in time and bring what was highest and best and above everything—namely, the truth.“The mice are enlightened people, and the mouse-king is above them all. He is therefore capable of making me queen for the sake of truth.”“Your truth is a falsehood,” said the mouse who had not yet spoken. “I can prepare the soup, and I mean to do so.”HOW IT WAS PREPARED“I did not travel,” said the third mouse, “I stayed in this country; that was the right way. One gains nothing by traveling. Everything can be acquired here quite as easily, so I stayed at home. I have not obtained what I know from supernatural beings; I have neither swallowed it nor learned it from conversing with owls. I have gained it all from my own reflections and thoughts. Will you now set the kettle on the fire—so? Now pour the water in, quite full up to the brim; place it on the fire; make up a good blaze; keep it burning, that the water may boil, for it must boil over and over. There, now I throw in the skewer. Will the mouse-king be pleased now to dip his tail into the boiling water and stir it round with the tail? The longer the king stirs it the stronger the soup will become. Nothing more is necessary, only to stir it.”“Can no one else do this?” asked the king.“No,” said the mouse; “only in the tail of the mouse-king is this power contained.”And the water boiled and bubbled, as the mouse-king stood close beside the kettle. It seemed rather a dangerous performance, but he turned round and put out his tail, as mice do in a dairy when they wish to skim the cream from a pan of milk with their tails and afterwards lick it off. But the mouse-king’s tail had only just touched the hot steam when he sprang away from the chimney in a great hurry, exclaiming:“Oh, certainly, by all means, you must be my queen. We will let the soup question rest till our golden wedding, fifty years hence, so that the poor in my kingdom who are then to have plenty of food will have something to look forward to for a long time, with great joy.”And very soon the wedding took place. Many of the mice, however, as they were returning home, said that the soup could not be properly called “soup from a sausage skewer,” but “soup from a mouse’s tail.” They acknowledged that some of the stories were very well told, but thought that the whole might have been managed differently.
In the reign of the famous King Edward III. there was a little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young. As poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread.Now Dick had heard a great many very strange things about the great city called London; for the country people at that time thought that folks in London were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold.One day a large waggon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was standing by the sign- post. He thought that this waggon must be going to the fine town of London; so he took courage, and asked the waggoner to let him walk with him by the side of the waggon. As soon as the waggoner heard that poor Dick had no father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so off they set together.So Dick got safe to London, and was in such a hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that he did not even stay to thank the kind waggoner; but ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were paved with gold; for Dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for.Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the waggoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he, sat down in a dark corner and cried himself to sleep.Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals.In this distress he asked charity of several people, and one of them said crossly: “Go to work, for an idle rogue.” “That I will,” says Dick, “I will to go work for you, if you will let me.” But the man only cursed at him and went on.At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. “Why don’t you go to work my lad?” said he to Dick. “That I would, but I do not know how to get any,” answered Dick. “If you are willing, come along with me,” said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made.After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook-maid, who was an ill- tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy dressing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor Dick: “What business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; I have some here hot enough to make you jump.”Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: “Why do you lie there, my boy? You seem old enough to work; I am afraid you are inclined to be lazy.”“No, indeed, sir,” said Dick to him, “that is not the case, for I would work with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe I am very sick for the want of food.”“Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you.” Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. So the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what work he was able to do for the cook.Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook. She used to say: “You are under me, so look sharp; clean the spit and the dripping-pan, make the fires, wind up the jack, and do all the scullery work nimbly, or—” and she would shake the ladle at him. Besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick’s head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. At last her ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren’s daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder.The behaviour of the cook was now a little better; but besides this Dick had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. The next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her, “Will you let me have that cat for a penny?” The girl said: “Yes, that I will, master, though she is an excellent mouser.”Dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night.Soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as it was the custom that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as well as himself, he called them all into the parlour and asked them what they would send out.They all had something that they were willing to venture except poor Dick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing. For this reason he did not come into the parlour with the rest; but Miss Alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. She then said: “I will lay down some money for him, from my own purse;” but her father told her: “This will not do, for it must be something of his own.”When poor Dick heard this, he said: “I have nothing but a cat which I bought for a penny some time since of a little girl.”“Fetch your cat then, my lad,” said Mr. Fitzwarren, “and let her go.”Dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain; “For,” he said, “I shall now be kept awake all night by the rats and mice.” All the company laughed at Dick’s odd venture; and Miss Alice, who felt pity for him, gave him some money to buy another cat.This, and many other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice, made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea.She asked him: “Do you think your cat will sell for as much money as would buy a stick to beat you?”At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things, and started very early in the morning, on All-hallows Day, the first of November. He walked as far as Holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called “Whittington’s Stone,” and began to think to himself which road he should take.While he was thinking what he should do, the Bells of Bow Church, which at that time were only six, began to ring, and their sound seemed to say to him:“Turn again, Whittington,Thrice Lord Mayor of London.”“Lord Mayor of London!” said he to himself. “Why, to be sure, I would put up with almost anything now, to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a fine coach, when I grow to be a man! Well, I will go back, and think nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be Lord Mayor of London at last.”Dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about his work, before the old cook came downstairs.We must now follow Miss Puss to the coast of Africa. The ship with the cat on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast of Barbary, where the only people were the Moors, unknown to the English. The people came in great numbers to see the sailors, because they were of different colour to themselves, and treated them civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to buy the fine things that the ship was loaded with.When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to the king of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he sent for the captain to the palace. Here they were placed, as it is the custom of the country, on rich carpets flowered with gold and silver. The king and queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. They had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, and devoured all the meat in an instant. The captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not unpleasant.“Oh yes,” said they, “very offensive, and the king would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber, and even in bed, and so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping, for fear of them.”The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his cat, and told the king he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. The king jumped so high at the joy which the news gave him, that his turban dropped off his head. “Bring this creature to me,” says he; “vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, I will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her.”The captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of Miss Puss. He told his majesty; “It is not very convenient to part with her, as, when she is gone, the rats and mice may destroy the goods in the ship—but to oblige your majesty, I will fetch her.”“Run, run!” said the queen; “I am impatient to see the dear creature.”Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. He put Puss under his arm, and arrived at the place just in time to see the table full of rats. When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out of the captain’s arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. The rest of them in their fright scampered away to their holes.The king was quite charmed to get rid so easily of such plagues, and the queen desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness might be brought to her, that she might look at her. Upon which the captain called: “Pussy, pussy, pussy!” and she came to him. He then presented her to the queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and mice. However, when the captain stroked the cat and called: “Pussy, pussy,” the queen also touched her and cried: “Putty, putty,” for she had not learned English. He then put her down on the queen’s lap, where she purred and played with her majesty’s hand, and then purred herself to sleep.The king, having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed that her kittens would stock the whole country, and keep it free from rats, bargained with the captain for the whole ship’s cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.The captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair wind for England, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in London.One morning, early, Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and seated himself at the desk, to count over the cash, and settle the business for the day, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. “Who’s there?” said Mr. Fitzwarren. “A friend,” answered the other; “I come to bring you good news of your ship Unicorn.” The merchant, bustling up in such a hurry that he forgot his gout, opened the door, and who should he see waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading; when he looked at this the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked Heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage.They then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the king and queen had sent for her to poor Dick. As soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to his servants: “Go send him in, and tell him of his fame;Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name.”Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was too much for him, he answered: “God forbid I should deprive him of the value of a single penny, it is his own, and he shall have it to a farthing.” He then sent for Dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty. He would have excused himself from coming into the counting-house, saying, “The room is swept, and my shoes are dirty and full of hob-nails.” But the merchant ordered him to come in.Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think they were making game of him, at the same time said to them: “Do not play tricks with a poor simple boy, but let me go down again, if you please, to my work.”“Indeed, Mr. Whittington,” said the merchant, “we are all quite in earnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice in the news that these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the King of Barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than I possess in the whole world; and I wish you may long enjoy them!”Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had brought with them; and said: “Mr. Whittington has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety.”Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness. “No, no,” answered Mr. Fitzwarren, “this is all your own; and I have no doubt but you will use it well.”Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part of his good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good success. But this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren’s servants; and even to the ill-natured old cook.After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tailor and get himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he could provide himself with a better.When Whittington’s face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes he was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren’s; so that Miss Alice, who had once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because Whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents that could be.Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. A day for the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the Lord Mayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the richest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated with a very rich feast.History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady liven in great splendour, and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriff of London, thrice Lord Mayor, and received the honour of knighthood by Henry V.He entertained this king and his queen at dinner after his conquest of France so grandly, that the king said “Never had prince such a subject;” when Sir Richard heard this, he said: “Never had subject such a prince.”The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the old prison of Newgate, which he built for criminals.
The tories of Berkshire, Massachusetts, were men who had been endeared to the king by holding office under warrant from that sacred personage. They have been gently dealt with by historians, but that is “overstrained magnanimity which concentrates its charities and praises for defeated champions of the wrong, and reserves its censures for triumphant defenders of the right.” While the following incidents have been so well avouched that they deserve to stand as history, their picturesqueness justifies renewed acquaintance.Among the loyalists was Gideon Smith, of Stockbridge, who had helped British prisoners to escape, and had otherwise made himself so obnoxious that he was forced for a time to withdraw and pass a season of penitence and meditation in a cavern near Lenox, that is called the Tories’ Glen. Here he lay for weeks, none but his wife knowing where he was, but at his request she walked out every day with her children, leading them past his cave, where he fed on their faces with hungry eyes. They prattled on, never dreaming that their father was but a few feet from them. Smith survived the war and lived to be on good terms with his old foes.In Lenox lived a Tory, one of those respectable buffers to whom wealth and family had given immunity in the early years of the war, but who sorely tried the temper of his neighbors by damning everything American from Washington downward. At last they could endure his abuse no longer; his example had affected other Anglomaniacs, and a committee waited on him to tell him that he could either swear allegiance to the colonies or be hanged. He said he would be hanged if he would swear, or words to that effect, and hanged he was, on a ready-made gallows in the street. He was let down shortly, “brought around” with rum, and the oath was offered again. He refused it. This had not been looked for. It had been taken for granted that he would abjure his fealty to the king at the first tightening of the cord. A conference was held, and it was declared that retreat would be undignified and unsafe, so the Tory was swung up again, this time with a yank that seemed to “mean business.” He hung for some time, and when lowered gave no sign of life. There was some show of alarm at this, for nobody wanted to kill the old fellow, and every effort was made to restore consciousness. At last the lungs heaved, the purple faded from his cheek, his eyes opened, and he gasped, “I’ll swear.” With a shout of joy the company hurried him to the tavern, seated him before the fire, and put a glass of punch in his hand. He drank the punch to Washington’s health, and after a time was heard to remark to himself, “It’s a hard way to make Whigs, but it’ll do it.”Nathan Jackson, of Tyringham, was another Yankee who had seen fit to take arms against his countrymen, and when captured he was charged with treason and remanded for trial. The jail, in Great Barrington, was so little used in those days of sturdy virtue that it had become a mere shed, fit to hold nobody, and Jackson, after being locked into it, might have walked out whenever he felt disposed; but escape, he thought, would have been a confession of the wrongness of Tory principles, or of a fear to stand trial. He found life so monotonous, however, that he asked the sheriff to let him go out to work during the day, promising to sleep in his cell, and such was his reputation for honesty that his request was granted without a demur, the prisoner returning every night to be locked up. When the time approached for the court to meet in Springfield heavy harvesting had begun, and, as there was no other case from Berkshire County to present, the sheriff grumbled at the bother of taking his prisoner across fifty miles of rough country, but Jackson said that he would make it all right by going alone. The sheriff was glad to be released from this duty, so off went the Tory to give himself up and be tried for his life. On the way he was overtaken by Mr. Edwards, of the Executive Council, then about to meet in Boston, and without telling his own name or office, he learned the extraordinary errand of this lonely pedestrian. Jackson was tried, admitted the charges against him, and was sentenced to death. While he awaited execution of the law upon him, the council in Boston received petitions for clemency, and Mr. Edwards asked if there was none in favor of Nathan Jackson. There was none. Mr. Edwards related the circumstance of his meeting with the condemned man, and a murmur of surprise and admiration went around the room. A despatch was sent to Springfield. When it reached there the prison door was flung open and Jackson walked forth free.
There were once two farmer men who were brothers. Both of them worked hard in seed-time and in harvest-time. They stood knee-deep in water to plant out the young rice, bending their backs a thousand times an hour; they wielded the sickle when the hot sun shone; when the rain poured down in torrents, there they were still at their digging or such like, huddled up in their rice-straw rain coats, for in the sweat of their brows did they eat their bread.The elder of the two brothers was called Cho. For all he laboured so hard he was passing rich. From a boy he had had a saving way with him, and had put by a mint of money. He had a big farm, too, and not a year but that he did well, what with his rice, and his silk-worms, and his granaries and storehouses. But there was nothing to show for all this, if it will be believed. He was a mean, sour man with not so much as a “good day” and a cup of tea for a wayfarer, or a cake of cold rice for a beggar man. His children whimpered when he came near them, and his wife was much to be pitied.The younger of the two brothers was called Kanè. For all he laboured so hard he was as poor as a church mouse. Bad was his luck, his silk-worms died, and his rice would not flourish. In spite of this he was a merry fellow, a bachelor who loved a song and an honest cup of saké. His roof, his pipe, his meagre supper, all these he would share, very gladly, with the first-comer. He had the nimblest tongue for a comical joke, and the kindest heart in the world. But it is a true thing, though it is a pity all the same, that a man cannot live on love and laughter, and presently Kanè was in a bad way.“There’s nothing for it,” he says, “but to pocket my pride” (for he had some) “and go and see what my brother Cho will do for me, and I’m greatly mistaken if it will be much.”So he borrows some clothes from a friend for the visit, and sets off in very neat hakama, looking quite the gentleman, and singing a song to keep his heart up.He sees his brother standing outside his house, and the first minute he thinks he is seeing a boggart, Cho is in such ragged gear. But presently he sings out, “You’re early, Cho.”“You’re early, Kanè,” says Cho.“May I come in and talk a bit?” asks Kanè.“Yes,” says Cho, “you can; but you won’t find anything to eat at this time of day, nor yet to drink, so let disappointments be avoided.”“Very well,” says Kanè; “as it happens, it’s not food I’ve come for.”When they were inside the house and sitting on the mats, Cho says, “That’s a fine suit of clothes you’ve got on you, Kanè. You must be doing well. It’s not me that can afford to go about the muddy roads dressed up like a prince. Times are bad, very bad.”In spite of this not being a good beginning, Kanè plucks up his courage and laughs. And presently he says:“Look here, brother. These are borrowed clothes, my own will hardly hold together. My rice crop was ruined, and my silk-worms are dead. I have not a rin to buy rice seed or new worms. I am at my wits’ end, and I have come to you begging, so now you have it. For the sake of the mother that bore us both, give me a handful of seed and a few silk-worms’ eggs.”At this Cho made as if he would faint with astonishment and dismay.“Alack! Alack!” he says. “I am a poor man, a very poor man. Must I rob my wife and my miserable children?” And thus he bewailed himself and talked for half an hour.But to make a long story short, Cho says that out of filial piety, and because of the blessed mother of them both, he must make shift to give Kanè the silk-worms’ eggs and the rice. So he gets a handful of dead eggs and a handful of musty and mouldy rice. “These are no good to man or beast,” says the old fox to himself, and he laughs. But to his own blood-brother he says, “Here, Kanè. It’s the best silk-worms’ eggs I am giving you, and the best rice of all my poor store, and I cannot afford it at all; and may the gods forgive me for robbing my poor wife and my children.”Kanè thanks his brother with all his heart for his great generosity, and bows his head to the mats three times. Then off he goes, with the silk-worms’ eggs and the rice in his sleeve, skipping and jumping with joy, for he thought that his luck had turned at last. But in the muddy parts of the road he was careful to hold up his hakama, for they were borrowed.When he reached home he gathered great store of green mulberry leaves. This was for the silk-worms that were going to be hatched out of the dead eggs. And he sat down and waited for the silk-worms to come. And come they did, too, and that was very strange, because the eggs were dead eggs for sure. The silk-worms were a lively lot; they ate the mulberry leaves in a twinkling, and lost no time at all, but began to wind themselves into cocoons that minute. Then Kanè was the happy man. He went out and told his good fortune to all the neighbours. This was where he made his mistake. And he found a peddlar man who did his rounds in those parts, and gave him a message to take to his brother Cho, with his compliments and respectful thanks, that the silk-worms were doing uncommonly well. This was where he made a bigger mistake. It was a pity he could not let well alone.When Cho heard of his brother’s luck he was not pleased. Pretty soon he tied on his straw sandals and was off to Kanè’s farm. Kanè was out when he got there, but Cho did not care for that. He went to have a look at the silk-worms. And when he saw how they were beginning to spin themselves into cocoons, as neat as you please, he took a sharp knife and cut every one of them in two. Then he went away home, the bad man! When Kanè came to look after his silk-worms he could not help thinking they looked a bit queer. He scratches his head and he says, “It almost appears as though each of them has been cut in half. They seem dead,” he says. Then out he goes and gathers a great lot of mulberry leaves. And all those half silk-worms set to and ate up the mulberry leaves, and after that there were just twice as many silk-worms spinning away as there were before. And that was very strange, because the silk-worms were dead for sure.When Cho heard of this he goes and chops his own silk-worms in two with a sharp knife; but he gained nothing by that, for the silk-worms never moved again, but stayed as dead as dead, and his wife had to throw them away next morning.After this Kanè sowed the rice seed that he had from his brother, and when the young rice came up as green as you please he planted it out with care, and it flourished wonderfully, and soon the rice was formed in the ear.One day an immense flight of swallows came and settled on Kanè’s rice-field.“Arah! Arah!” Kanè shouted. He clapped his hands and beat about with a bamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they came.“Arah! Arah!” Kanè shouted, and he clapped his hands and beat about with his bamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they came.“Arah! Arah!” Kanè shouted. He clapped his hands and beat about with his bamboo stick. So the swallows flew away. In two minutes back they came.When he had scared them away for the ninth time, Kanè takes his tenegui and wipes his face. “This grows into a habit,” he says. But in two minutes back came the swallows for the tenth time. “Arah! Arah!” Kanè shouted, and he chased them over hill and dale, hedge and ditch, rice-field and mulberry-field, till at last they flew away from his sight, and he found himself in a mossy dell shaded by spreading pine trees. Being very tired with running he lies down his full length upon the moss, and presently falls fast asleep and snoring.The next thing was that he dreamed. He thought he saw a troop of children come to the mossy glade, for in his dream he remembered very well where he was. The children fluttered here and there among the pine-trees’ trunks. They were as pretty as flowers or butterflies. One and all of them had dancing bare feet; their hair hung down, long, loose and black; their skins were white like the plum blossom.“For good or for evil,” says Kanè to himself, “I have seen the fairies’ children.”The children made an end of their dancing, and sat them upon the ground in a ring. “Leader! Leader!” they cried. “Fetch us the mallet.” Then there rose up a beautiful boy, about fourteen or fifteen years old, the eldest and the tallest there. He lifted a mossy stone quite close to Kanè’s head. Underneath was a plain little mallet of white wood. The boy took it up and went and stood within the circle of children. He laughed and cried, “Now what will you have?”“A kite, a kite,” calls out one of the children.The boy shakes the mallet, and lo and behold he shakes a kite out of it!—a great kite with a tail to it, and a good ball of twine as well.“Now what else?” asks the boy.“Battledore and shuttlecock for me,” says a little girl.And sure enough there they are, a battledore of the best, and twenty shuttlecocks, meetly feathered and gilded.“Now what else?” says the boy.“A lot of sweets.”“Greedy!” says the boy, but he shakes the mallet, and there are the sweets.“A red crêpe frock and a brocade obi.”“Miss Vanity!” says the boy, but he shakes all this gravely out of the mallet.“Books, story books.”“That’s better,” says the boy, and out come the books by the dozen and score, all open to show the lovely pictures.Now, when the children had their hearts’ desires, the leader put away the mallet beneath its mossy stone, and after they had played for some time they became tired; their bright attires melted away into the gloom of the wood, and their pretty voices grew distant and then were heard no more. It was very still.Kanè awoke, good man, and found the sun set and darkness beginning to fall. There was the mossy stone right under his hand. He lifted it, and there was the mallet.“Now,” said Kanè, taking it up, “begging the pardon of the fairies’ children, I’ll make bold to borrow that mallet.” So he took it home in his sleeve and spent a pleasant evening shaking gold pieces out of it, and saké, and new clothes, and farmers’ tools, and musical instruments, and who knows what all!It is not hard to believe that pretty soon he became the richest and jolliest farmer in all that country-side. Sleek and fat he grew, and his heart was bigger and kinder than ever.But what like was Cho’s heart when he got wind of all this? Ay, there’s the question. Cho turned green with envy, as green as grass. “I’ll have a fairy mallet, too,” he says, “and be rich for nothing. Why should that idiot spendthrift Kanè have all the good fortune?” So he goes and begs rice from his brother, which his brother gives him very willingly, a good sackful. And he waits for it to ripen, quite wild with impatience. It ripens sure enough, and sure enough a flight of swallows comes and settles upon the good grain in the ear.“Arah! Arah!” shouted Cho, clapping his hands and laughing aloud for joy. The swallows flew away, and Cho was after them. He chased them over hill and dale, hedge and ditch, rice-field and mulberry-field, till at last they flew away from his sight, and he found himself in a mossy dell shaded by spreading pine-trees. Cho looks about him.“This should be the place,” says he. So he lies down and waits with one wily eye shut and one wily eye open.Presently who should trip into the dell but the fairies’ children! Very fresh they were as they moved among the pine-tree trunks.“Leader! Leader! Fetch us the mallet,” they cried. Up stepped the leader and lifted away the mossy stone. And behold there was no mallet there!Now the fairies’ children became very angry. They stamped their little feet, and cried and rushed wildly to and fro, and were beside themselves altogether because the mallet was gone.“See,” cried the leader at last, “see this ugly old farmer man; he must have taken our mallet. Let us pull his nose for him.”With a shrill scream the fairies’ children set upon Cho. They pinched him, and pulled him, and buffeted him, and set their sharp teeth in his flesh till he yelled in agony. Worst of all, they laid hold of his nose and pulled it. Long it grew, and longer. It reached his waist. It reached his feet.Lord, how they laughed, the fairies’ children! Then they scampered away like fallen leaves before the wind.Cho sighed, and he groaned, and he cursed, and he swore, but for all that his nose was not an inch shorter. So, sad and sorry, he gathered it up in his two hands and went to Kanè’s house.“Kanè, I am very sick,” says he.“Indeed, so I see,” says Kanè, “a terrible sickness; and how did you catch it?” he says. And so kind he was that he never laughed at Cho’s nose, nor yet he never smiled, but there were tears in his eyes at his brother’s misfortunes. Then Cho’s heart melted and he told his brother all the tale, and he never kept back how mean he had been about the dead silk-worms’ eggs, and about the other things that have been told of. And he asked Kanè to forgive him and to help him.“Wait you still a minute,” says Kanè.He goes to his chest, and he brings out the mallet. And he rubs it very gently up and down Cho’s long nose, and sure enough it shortened up very quickly. In two minutes it was a natural size. Cho danced for joy.Kanè looks at him and says, “If I were you, I’d just go home and try to be different.”When Cho had gone, Kanè sat still and thought for a long time. When the moon rose that night he went out and took the mallet with him. He came to the mossy dell that was shaded with spreading pine trees, and he laid the mallet in its old place under the stone.“I’m the last man in the world,” he said, “to be unfriendly to the fairies’ children.”
High on the eastern face of Mount Monroe shone the Great Carbuncle, its flash scintillating for miles by day, its dusky crimson glowing among the ledges at night. The red men said that it hung in the air, and that the soul of an Indian—killed, that he might guard the spot—made approach perilous to men of all complexions and purposes. As late as Ethan Crawford’s time one search band took a “good man” to lay the watcher, when they strove to scale the height, but they returned “sorely bruised, treasureless, and not even saw that wonderful sight.” The value of the stone tempted many, but those who sought it had to toil through a dense forest, and on arriving at the mountain found its glories eclipsed by intervening abutments, nor could they get near it. Rocks covered with crystals, at first thought to be diamonds, were readily despoiled of their treasure, but the Great Carbuncle burned on, two thousand feet above them, at the head of the awful chasm of Oakes Gulf, and baffled seekers likened it to the glare of an evil eye.There was one who had grown old in searching for this gem, often scrambling over the range in wind and snow and cloud, and at last he reached a precipitous spot he had never attained before. Great was his joy, for the Carbuncle was within his reach, blazing into his eyes in the noon sunlight as if it held, crystallized in its depths, the brightness of all the wine that had ever gladdened the tired hearts of men. There were rivals in the search, and on reaching the plateau they looked up and saw him kneeling on a narrow ledge with arms extended as in rapture. They called to him. He answered not. He was dead—dead of joy and triumph. While they looked a portion of the crag above him fell away and rolled from rock to rock, marking its course with flashes of bloody fire, until it reached the Lake of the Clouds, and the waters of that tarn drowned its glory. Yet those waters are not always black, and sometimes the hooked crest of Mount Monroe is outlined against the night sky in a ruddy glow.
Once upon a time there was a king, who reigned over a great kingdom. He had a queen, but only a single daughter, a girl. In consequence the little girl was the apple of her parents’ eyes; they loved her above everything else in the world, and their dearest thought was the pleasure they would take in her when she was older. But the unexpected often happens; for before the king’s daughter began to grow up, the queen her mother fell ill and died. It is not hard to imagine the grief that reigned, not alone in the royal castle, but throughout the land; for the queen had been beloved of all. The king grieved so that he would not marry again, and his one joy was the little princess.A long time passed, and with each succeeding day the king’s daughter grew taller and more beautiful, and her father granted her every wish. Now there were a number of women who had nothing to do but wait on the princess and carry out her commands. Among them was a woman who had formerly married and had two daughters. She had an engaging appearance, a smooth tongue and a winning way of talking, and she was as soft and pliable as silk; but at heart she was full of machinations and falseness. Now when the queen died, she at once began to plan how she might marry the king, so that her daughters might be kept like royal princesses. With this end in view, she drew the young princess to her, paid her the most fulsome compliments on everything she said and did, and was forever bringing the conversation around to how happy she would be were the king to take another wife. There was much said on this head, early and late, and before very long the princess came to believe that the woman knew all there was to know about everything. So she asked her what sort of a woman the king ought to choose for a wife. The woman answered as sweet as honey: “It is not my affair to give advice in this matter; yet he should choose for queen some one who is kind to the little princess. For one thing I know, and that is, were I fortunate enough to be chosen, my one thought would be to do all I could for the little princess, and if she wished to wash her hands, one of my daughters would have to hold the wash-bowl and the other hand her the towel.” This and much more she told the king’s daughter, and the princess believed it, as children will.From that day forward the princess gave her father no peace, and begged him again and again to marry the good court lady. Yet he did not want to marry her. But the king’s daughter gave him no rest; but urged him again and again, as the false court lady had persuaded her to do. Finally, one day, when she again brought up the matter, the king cried: “I can see you will end by having your own way about this, even though it be entirely against my will. But I will do so only on one condition.” “What is the condition?” asked the princess. “If I marry again,” said the king, “it is only because of your ceaseless pleading. Therefore you must promise that, if in the future you are not satisfied with your step-mother or your step-sisters, not a single lament or complaint on your part reaches my ears.” This she promised the king, and it was agreed that he should marry the court lady and make her queen of the whole country.As time passed on, the king’s daughter had grown to be the most beautiful maiden to be found far and wide; the queen’s daughters, on the other hand, were homely, evil of disposition, and no one knew any good of them. Hence it was not surprising that many youths came from East and West to sue for the princess’s hand; but that none of them took any interest in the queen’s daughters. This made the step-mother very angry; but she concealed her rage, and was as sweet and friendly as ever. Among the wooers was a king’s son from another country. He was young and brave, and since he loved the princess dearly, she accepted his proposal and they plighted their troth. The queen observed this with an angry eye, for it would have pleased her had the prince chosen one of her own daughters. She therefor made up her mind that the young pair should never be happy together, and from that time on thought only of how she might part them from each other.An opportunity soon offered itself. News came that the enemy had entered the land, and the king was compelled to go to war. Now the princess began to find out the kind of step-mother she had. For no sooner had the king departed than the queen showed her true nature, and was just as harsh and unkind as she formerly had pretended to be friendly and obliging. Not a day went by without her scolding and threatening the princess; and the queen’s daughters were every bit as malicious as their mother. But the king’s son, the lover of the princess, found himself in even worse position. He had gone hunting one day, had lost his way, and could not find his people. Then the queen used her black arts and turned him into a werewolf, to wander through the forest for the remainder of his life in that shape. When evening came and there was no sign of the prince, his people returned home, and one can imagine what sorrow they caused when the princess learned how the hunt had ended. She grieved, wept day and night, and was not to be consoled. But the queen laughed at her grief, and her heart was filled with joy to think that all had turned out exactly as she wished.Now it chanced one day, as the king’s daughter was sitting alone in her room, that she thought she would go herself into the forest where the prince had disappeared. She went to her step-mother and begged permission to go out into the forest, in order to forget her surpassing grief. The queen did not want to grant her request, for she always preferred saying no to yes. But the princess begged her so winningly that at last she was unable to say no, and she ordered one of her daughters to go along with her and watch her. That caused a great deal of discussion, for neither of the step-daughters wanted to go with her; each made all sorts of excuses, and asked what pleasures were there in going with the king’s daughter, who did nothing but cry. But the queen had the last word in the end, and ordered that one of her daughters must accompany the princess, even though it be against her will. So the girls wandered out of the castle into the forest. The king’s daughter walked among the trees, and listened to the song of the birds, and thought of her lover, for whom she longed, and who was now no longer there. And the queen’s daughter followed her, vexed, in her malice, with the king’s daughter and her sorrow.After they had walked a while, they came to a little hut, lying deep in the dark forest. By then the king’s daughter was very thirsty, and wanted to go into the little hut with her step-sister, in order to get a drink of water. But the queen’s daughter was much annoyed and said: “Is it not enough for me to be running around here in the wilderness with you? Now you even want me, who am a princess, to enter that wretched little hut. No, I will not step a foot over the threshold! If you want to go in, why go in alone!” The king’s daughter lost no time; but did as her step-sister advised, and stepped into the little hut. When she entered she saw an old woman sitting there on a bench, so enfeebled by age that her head shook. The princess spoke to her in her usual friendly way: “Good evening, motherkin. May I ask you for a drink of water?” “You are heartily welcome to it,” said the old woman. “Who may you be, that step beneath my lowly roof and greet me in so winning a way?” The king’s daughter told her who she was, and that she had gone out to relieve her heart, in order to forget her great grief. “And what may your great grief be?” asked the old woman. “No doubt it is my fate to grieve,” said the princess, “and I can never be happy again. I have lost my only love, and God alone knows whether I shall ever see him again.” And she also told her why it was, and the tears ran down her cheeks in streams, so that any one would have felt sorry for her. When she had ended the old woman said: “You did well in confiding your sorrow to me. I have lived long and may be able to give you a bit of good advice. When you leave here you will see a lily growing from the ground. This lily is not like other lilies, however, but has many strange virtues. Run quickly over to it, and pick it. If you can do that then you need not worry, for then one will appear who will tell you what to do.” Then they parted and the king’s daughter thanked her and went her way; while the old woman sat on the bench and wagged her head. But the queen’s daughter had been standing without the hut the entire time, vexing herself, and grumbling because the king’s daughter had taken so long.So when the latter stepped out, she had to listen to all sorts of abuse from her step-sister, as was to be expected. Yet she paid no attention to her, and thought only of how she might find the flower of which the old woman had spoken. They went through the forest, and suddenly she saw a beautiful white lily growing in their very path. She was much pleased and ran up at once to pick it; but that very moment it disappeared and reappeared somewhat further away.The king’s daughter was now filled with eagerness, no longer listened to her step-sister’s calls, and kept right on running; yet each time when she stooped to pick the lily, it suddenly disappeared and reappeared somewhat further away. Thus it went for some time, and the princess was drawn further and further into the deep forest. But the lily continued to stand, and disappear and move further away, and each time the flower seemed larger and more beautiful than before. At length the princess came to a high hill, and as she looked toward its summit, there stood the lily high on the naked rock, glittering as white and radiant as the brightest star. The king’s daughter now began to climb the hill, and in her eagerness she paid no attention to stones nor steepness. And when at last she reached the summit of the hill, lo and behold! the lily no longer evaded her grasp; but remained where it was, and the princess stooped and picked it and hid it in her bosom, and so heartfelt was her happiness that she forgot her step-sisters and everything else in the world.For a long time she did not tire of looking at the beautiful flower. Then she suddenly began to wonder what her step-mother would say when she came home after having remained out so long. And she looked around, in order to find the way back to the castle. But as she looked around, behold, the sun had set and no more than a little strip of daylight rested on the summit of the hill. Below her lay the forest, so dark and shadowed that she had no faith in her ability to find the homeward path. And now she grew very sad, for she could think of nothing better to do than to spend the night on the hill-top. She seated herself on the rock, put her hand to her cheek, cried, and thought of her unkind step-mother and step-sisters, and of all the harsh words she would have to endure when she returned. And she thought of her father, the king, who was away at war, and of the love of her heart, whom she would never see again; and she grieved so bitterly that she did not even know she wept. Night came and darkness, and the stars rose, and still the princess sat in the same spot and wept. And while she sat there, lost in her thoughts, she heard a voice say: “Good evening, lovely maiden! Why do you sit here so sad and lonely?” She stood up hastily, and felt much embarrassed, which was not surprising. When she looked around there was nothing to be seen but a tiny old man, who nodded to her and seemed to be very humble. She answered: “Yes, it is no doubt my fate to grieve, and never be happy again. I have lost my dearest love, and now I have lost my way in the forest, and am afraid of being devoured by wild beasts.” “As to that,” said the old man, “you need have no fear. If you will do exactly as I say, I will help you.” This made the princess happy; for she felt that all the rest of the world had abandoned her. Then the old man drew out flint and steel and said: “Lovely maiden, you must first build a fire.” She did as he told her, gathered moss, brush and dry sticks, struck sparks and lit such a fire on the hill-top that the flame blazed up to the skies. That done the old man said: “Go on a bit and you will find a kettle of tar, and bring the kettle to me.” This the king’s daughter did. The old man continued: “Now put the kettle on the fire.” And the princess did that as well. When the tar began to boil, the old man said: “Now throw your white lily into the kettle.” The princess thought this a harsh command, and earnestly begged to be allowed to keep the lily. But the old man said: “Did you not promise to obey my every command? Do as I tell you or you will regret it.” The king’s daughter turned away her eyes, and threw the lily into the boiling tar; but it was altogether against her will, so fond had she grown of the beautiful flower.The moment she did so a hollow roar, like that of some wild beast, sounded from the forest. It came nearer, and turned into such a terrible howling that all the surrounding hills reëchoed it. Finally there was a cracking and breaking among the trees, the bushes were thrust aside, and the princess saw a great grey wolf come running out of the forest and straight up the hill. She was much frightened and would gladly have run away, had she been able. But the old man said: “Make haste, run to the edge of the hill and the moment the wolf comes along, upset the kettle on him!” The princess was terrified, and hardly knew what she was about; yet she did as the old man said, took the kettle, ran to the edge of the hill, and poured its contents over the wolf just as he was about to run up. And then a strange thing happened: no sooner had she done so, than the wolf was transformed, cast off his thick grey pelt, and in place of the horrible wild beast, there stood a handsome young man, looking up to the hill. And when the king’s daughter collected herself and looked at him, she saw that it was really and truly her lover, who had been turned into a werewolf.It is easy to imagine how the princess felt. She opened her arms, and could neither ask questions nor reply to them, so moved and delighted was she. But the prince ran hastily up the hill, embraced her tenderly, and thanked her for delivering him. Nor did he forget the little old man, but thanked him with many civil expressions for his powerful aid. Then they sat down together on the hill-top, and had a pleasant talk. The prince told how he had been turned into a wolf, and of all he had suffered while running about in the forest; and the princess told of her grief, and the many tears she had shed while he had been gone. So they sat the whole night through, and never noticed it until the stars grew pale and it was light enough to see. When the sun rose, they saw that a broad path led from the hill-top straight to the royal castle; for they had a view of the whole surrounding country from the hill-top. Then the old man said: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything out yonder?” “Yes,” said the princess, “I see a horseman on a foaming horse, riding as fast as he can.” Then the old man said: “He is a messenger sent on ahead by the king your father. And your father with all his army is following him.” That pleased the princess above all things, and she wanted to descend the hill at once to meet her father. But the old man detained her and said: “Wait a while, it is too early yet. Let us wait and see how everything turns out.”Time passed and the sun was shining brightly, and its rays fell straight on the royal castle down below. Then the old man said: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?” “Yes,” replied the princess, “I see a number of people coming out of my father’s castle, and some are going along the road, and others into the forest.” The old man said: “Those are your step-mother’s servants. She has sent some to meet the king and welcome him; but she has sent others to the forest to look for you.” At these words the princess grew uneasy, and wished to go down to the queen’s servants. But the old man withheld her and said: “Wait a while, and let us first see how everything turns out.”More time passed, and the king’s daughter was still looking down the road from which the king would appear, when the old man said: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?” “Yes,” answered the princess, “there is a great commotion in my father’s castle, and they are hanging it with black.” The old man said: “That is your step-mother and her people. They will assure your father that you are dead.” Then the king’s daughter felt bitter anguish, and she implored from the depths of her heart: “Let me go, let me go, so that I may spare my father this anguish!” But the old man detained her and said: “No, wait, it is still too early. Let us first see how everything turns out.”Again time passed, the sun lay high above the fields, and the warm air blew over meadow and forest. The royal maid and youth still sat on the hill-top with the old man, where we had left them. Then they saw a little cloud rise against the horizon, far away in the distance, and the little cloud grew larger and larger, and came nearer and nearer along the road, and as it moved one could see it was agleam with weapons, and nodding helmets, and waving flags, one could hear the rattle of swords, and the neighing of horses, and finally recognize the banner of the king. It is not hard to imagine how pleased the king’s daughter was, and how she insisted on going down and greeting her father. But the old man held her back and said: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything happening at the castle?” “Yes,” answered the princess, “I can see my step-mother and step-sisters coming out, dressed in mourning, holding white kerchiefs to their faces, and weeping bitterly.” The old man answered: “Now they are pretending to weep because of your death. Wait just a little while longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn out.”After a time the old man said again: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?” “Yes,” said the princess, “I see people bringing a black coffin—now my father is having it opened. Look, the queen and her daughters are down on their knees, and my father is threatening them with his sword!” Then the old man said: “Your father wished to see your body, and so your evil step-mother had to confess the truth.” When the princess heard that she said earnestly: “Let me go, let me go, so that I may comfort my father in his great sorrow!” But the old man held her back and said: “Take my advice and stay here a little while longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn out.”Again time went by, and the king’s daughter and the prince and the old man were still sitting on the hill-top. Then the old man said: “Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?” “Yes,” answered the princess, “I see my father and my step-sisters and my step-mother with all their following moving this way.” The old man said: “Now they have started out to look for you. Go down and bring up the wolf’s pelt in the gorge.” The king’s daughter did as he told her. The old man continued: “Now stand at the edge of the hill.” And the princess did that, too. Now one could see the queen and her daughters coming along the way, and stopping just below the hill. Then the old man said: “Now throw down the wolf’s pelt!” The princess obeyed him, and threw down the wolf’s pelt according to his command. It fell directly on the evil queen and her daughters. And then a most wonderful thing happened: no sooner had the pelt touched the three evil women than they immediately changed shape, and turning into three horrible werewolves, they ran away as fast as they could into the forest, howling dreadfully.No more had this happened than the king himself arrived at the foot of the hill with his whole retinue. When he looked up and recognized the princess, he could not at first believe his eyes; but stood motionless, thinking her a vision. Then the old man cried: “Lovely maiden, now hasten, run down and make your father happy!” There was no need to tell the princess twice. She took her lover by the hand and they ran down the hill. When they came to the king, the princess ran on ahead, fell on her father’s neck, and wept with joy. And the young prince wept as well, and the king himself wept; and their meeting was a pleasant sight for every one. There was great joy and many embraces, and the princess told of her evil step-mother and step-sisters and of her lover, and all that she had suffered, and of the old man who had helped them in such a wonderful way. But when the king turned around to thank the old man he had completely vanished, and from that day on no one could say who he had been or what had become of him.The king and his whole retinue now returned to the castle, where the king had a splendid banquet prepared, to which he invited all the able and distinguished people throughout the kingdom, and bestowed his daughter on the young prince. And the wedding was celebrated with gladness and music and amusements of every kind for many days. I was there, too, and when I rode through the forest I met a wolf with two young wolves, and they showed me their teeth and seemed very angry. And I was told they were none other than the evil step-mother and her two daughters.
There was once a little boy who had taken cold by going out and getting his feet wet. No one could think how he had managed to do so, for the weather was quite dry. His mother undressed him and put him to bed, and then she brought in the teapot to make him a good cup of elder tea, which is so warming.At the same time the friendly old man who lived all alone at the top of the house came in at the door. He had neither wife nor child, but he was very fond of children and knew so many fairy tales and stories that it was a pleasure to hear him talk. “Now, if you drink your tea,” said the mother, “very likely you will have a story in the meantime.”“Yes, if I could think of a new one to tell,” said the old man. “But how did the little fellow get his feet wet?” asked he.“Ah,” said the mother, “that is what we cannot make out.”“Will you tell me a story?” asked the boy.“Yes, if you can tell me exactly how deep the gutter is in the little street through which you go to school.”“Just halfway up to my knee,” said the boy, promptly; “that is, if I stand in the deepest part.”“It is easy to see how we got our feet wet,” said the old man. “Well, now I suppose I ought to tell a story, but really I don’t know any more.”“You can make up one, I know,” said the boy. “Mother says that you can turn everything you look at into a story, and everything, even, that you touch.”“Ah, but those tales and stories are worth nothing. The real ones come of themselves; they knock at my forehead and say, ‘Here we are!'”“Won’t there be a knock soon?” asked the boy. And his mother laughed as she put elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water over them. “Oh, do tell me a story.”“Yes, if a story comes of itself, but tales and stories are very grand; they only come when it pleases them. Stop,” he cried all at once, “here we have it; look! there is a story in the teapot now.”The little boy looked at the teapot and saw the lid raise itself gradually and long branches stretch out, even from the spout, in all directions till they became larger and larger, and there appeared a great elder tree covered with flowers white and fresh. It spread itself even to the bed and pushed the curtains aside, and oh, how fragrant the blossoms were!In the midst of the tree sat a pleasant-looking old woman in a very strange dress. The dress was green, like the leaves of the elder tree, and was decorated with large white elder blossoms. It was not easy to tell whether the border was made of some kind of stuff or of real flowers.“What is that woman’s name?” asked the boy.“The Romans and Greeks called her a dryad,” said the old man, “but we do not understand that name; we have a better one for her in the quarter of the town where the sailors live. They call her Elder-flower Mother, and you must pay attention to her now, and listen while you look at the beautiful tree.“Just such a large, blooming tree as this stands outside in the corner of a poor little yard, and under this tree, one bright sunny afternoon, sat two old people, a sailor and his wife. They had great-grandchildren, and would soon celebrate the golden wedding, which is the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding day in many countries, and the Elder Mother sat in the tree and looked as pleased as she does now.“‘I know when the golden wedding is to be,’ said she, but they did not hear her; they were talking of olden times. ‘Do you remember,’ said the old sailor, ‘when we were quite little and used to run about and play in the very same yard where we are now sitting, and how we planted little twigs in one corner and made a garden?’“‘Yes,’ said the old woman, ‘I remember it quite well; and how we watered the twigs, and one of them was a sprig of elder that took root and put forth green shoots, until in time it became the great tree under which we old people are now seated.’“‘To be sure,’ he replied, ‘and in that corner yonder stands the water butt in which I used to swim my boat that I had cut out all myself; and it sailed well too. But since then I have learned a very different kind of sailing.’“‘Yes, but before that we went to school,’ said she, ‘and then we were prepared for confirmation. How we both cried on that day! But in the afternoon we went hand in hand up to the round tower and saw the view over Copenhagen and across the water; then we went to Fredericksburg, where the king and queen were sailing in their beautiful boat on the canals.’“‘But I had to sail on a very different voyage elsewhere and be away from home for years on long voyages,’ said the old sailor.“‘Ah yes, and I used to cry about you,’ said she, ‘for I thought you must be lying drowned at the bottom of the sea, with the waves sweeping over you. And many a time have I got up in the night to see if the weathercock had turned; it turned often enough, but you came not. How well I remember one day the rain was pouring down from the skies, and the man came to the house where I was in service to take away the dust. I went down to him with the dust box and stood for a moment at the door,—what shocking weather it was!—and while I stood there the postman came up and brought me a letter from you.“‘How that letter had traveled about! I tore it open and read it. I laughed and wept at the same time, I was so happy. It said that you were in warm countries where the coffee berries grew, and what a beautiful country it was, and described many other wonderful things. And so I stood reading by the dustbin, with the rain pouring down, when all at once somebody came and clasped me round the waist.’“‘Yes, and you gave him such a box on the ears that they tingled,’ said the old man.“‘I did not know that it was you,’ she replied; ‘but you had arrived as quickly as your letter, and you looked so handsome, and, indeed, so you are still. You had a large yellow silk handkerchief in your pocket and a shiny hat on your head. You looked quite fine. And all the time what weather it was, and how dismal the street looked!’“‘And then do you remember,’ said he, ‘when we were married, and our first boy came, and then Marie, and Niels, and Peter, and Hans Christian?’“‘Indeed I do,’ she replied; ‘and they are all grown up respectable men and women, whom every one likes.’“‘And now their children have little ones,’ said the old sailor. ‘There are great-grandchildren for us, strong and healthy too. Was it not about this time of year that we were married?’“‘Yes, and to-day is the golden-wedding day,’ said Elder-tree Mother, popping her head out just between the two old people; and they thought it was a neighbor nodding to them. Then they looked at each other and clasped their hands together. Presently came their children and grand*-children, who knew very well that it was the golden-wedding day. They had already wished them joy on that very morning, but the old people had forgotten it, although they remembered so well all that had happened many years before. And the elder tree smelled sweet, and the setting sun shone upon the faces of the old people till they looked quite ruddy. And the youngest of their grandchildren danced round them joyfully, and said they were going to have a feast in the evening, and there were to be hot potatoes. Then the Elder Mother nodded in the tree and cried ‘Hurrah!’ with all the rest.”“But that is not a story,” said the little boy who had been listening.“Not till you understand it,” said the old man. “But let us ask the Elder Mother to explain it.”“It was not exactly a story,” said the Elder Mother, “but the story is coming now, and it is a true one. For out of truth the most wonderful stories grow, just as my beautiful elder bush has sprung out of the teapot.” And then she took the little boy out of bed and laid him on her bosom, and the blooming branches of elder closed over them so that they sat, as it were, in a leafy bower, and the bower flew with them through the air in the most delightful manner.Then the Elder Mother all at once changed to a beautiful young maiden, but her dress was still of the same green stuff, ornamented with a border of white elder blossoms such as the Elder Mother had worn. In her bosom she wore a real elder flower, and a wreath of the same was entwined in her golden ringlets. Her large blue eyes were very beautiful to look at. She was of the same age as the boy, and they kissed each other and felt very happy.They left the arbor together, hand in hand, and found themselves in a beautiful flower garden which belonged to their home. On the green lawn their father’s stick was tied up. There was life in this stick for the little ones, for no sooner did they place themselves upon it than the white knob changed into a pretty neighing head with a black, flowing mane, and four long, slender legs sprung forth. The creature was strong and spirited, and galloped with them round the grassplot.“Hurrah! now we will ride many miles away,” said the boy; “we’ll ride to the nobleman’s estate, where we went last year.”Then they rode round the grassplot again, and the little maiden, who, we know, was Elder-tree Mother, kept crying out: “Now we are in the country. Do you see the farmhouse, with a great baking oven standing out from the wall by the road-side like a gigantic egg? There is an elder spreading its branches over it, and a cock is marching about and scratching for the chickens. See how he struts!“Now we are near the church. There it stands on the hill, shaded by the great oak trees, one of which is half dead. See, here we are at the blacksmith’s forge. How the fire burns! And the half-clad men are striking the hot iron with the hammer, so that the sparks fly about. Now then, away to the nobleman’s beautiful estate!” And the boy saw all that the little girl spoke of as she sat behind him on the stick, for it passed before him although they were only galloping round the grassplot. Then they played together in a side walk and raked up the earth to make a little garden. Then she took elder flowers out of her hair and planted them, and they grew just like those which he had heard the old people talking about, and which they had planted in their young days. They walked about hand in hand too, just as the old people had done when they were children, but they did not go up the round tower nor to Fredericksburg garden. No; but the little girl seized the boy round the waist, and they rode all over the whole country (sometimes it was spring, then summer; then autumn and winter followed), while thousands of images were presented to the boy’s eyes and heart, and the little girl constantly sang to him, “You must never forget all this.” And through their whole flight the elder tree sent forth the sweetest fragrance.They passed roses and fresh beech trees, but the perfume of the elder tree was stronger than all, for its flowers hung round the little maiden’s heart, against which the boy so often leaned his head during their flight.“It is beautiful here in the spring,” said the maiden, as they stood in a grove of beech trees covered with fresh green leaves, while at their feet the sweet-scented thyme and blushing anemone lay spread amid the green grass in delicate bloom. “O that it were always spring in the fragrant beech groves!”“Here it is delightful in summer,” said the maiden, as they passed old knights’ castles telling of days gone by and saw the high walls and pointed gables mirrored in the rivers beneath, where swans were sailing about and peeping into the cool green avenues. In the fields the corn waved to and fro like the sea. Red and yellow flowers grew amongst the ruins, and the hedges were covered with wild hops and blooming convolvulus. In the evening the moon rose round and full, and the haystacks in the meadows filled the air with their sweet scent. These were scenes never to be forgotten.“It is lovely here also in autumn,” said the little maiden, and then the scene changed again. The sky appeared higher and more beautifully blue, while the forest glowed with colors of red, green, and gold. The hounds were off to the chase, and large flocks of wild birds flew screaming over the Huns’ graves, where the blackberry bushes twined round the old ruins. The dark blue sea was dotted with white sails, and in the barns sat old women, maidens, and children picking hops into a large tub. The young ones sang songs, and the old ones told fairy tales of wizards and witches. There could be nothing more pleasant than all this.“Again,” said the maiden, “it is beautiful here in winter.” Then in a moment all the trees were covered with hoarfrost, so that they looked like white coral. The snow crackled beneath the feet as if every one had on new boots, and one shooting star after another fell from the sky. In warm rooms there could be seen the Christmas trees, decked out with presents and lighted up amid festivities and joy. In the country farmhouses could be heard the sound of a violin, and there were games for apples, so that even the poorest child could say, “It is beautiful in winter.”And beautiful indeed were all the scenes which the maiden showed to the little boy, and always around them floated the fragrance of the elder blossom, and ever above them waved the red flag with the white cross, under which the old seaman had sailed. The boy—who had become a youth, and who had gone as a sailor out into the wide world and sailed to warm countries where the coffee grew, and to whom the little girl had given an elder blossom from her bosom for a keepsake, when she took leave of him—placed the flower in his hymn book; and when he opened it in foreign lands he always turned to the spot where this flower of remembrance lay, and the more he looked at it the fresher it appeared. He could, as it were, breathe the homelike fragrance of the woods, and see the little girl looking at him from between the petals of the flower with her clear blue eyes, and hear her whispering, “It is beautiful here at home in spring and summer, in autumn and in winter,” while hundreds of these home scenes passed through his memory.Many years had passed, and he was now an old man, seated with his old wife under an elder tree in full blossom. They were holding each other’s hands, just as the great-grandfather and grandmother had done, and spoke, as they did, of olden times and of the golden wedding. The little maiden with the blue eyes and with the elder blossoms in her hair sat in the tree and nodded to them and said, “To-day is the golden wedding.”And then she took two flowers out of her wreath and kissed them, and they shone first like silver and then like gold, and as she placed them on the heads of the old people, each flower became a golden crown. And there they sat like a king and queen under the sweet-scented tree, which still looked like an elder bush. Then he related to his old wife the story of the Elder-tree Mother, just as he had heard it told when he was a little boy, and they both fancied it very much like their own story, especially in parts which they liked the best.“Well, and so it is,” said the little maiden in the tree. “Some call me Elder Mother, others a dryad, but my real name is Memory. It is I who sit in the tree as it grows and grows, and I can think of the past and relate many things. Let me see if you have still preserved the flower.”Then the old man opened his hymn book, and there lay the elder flower, as fresh as if it had only just been placed there, and Memory nodded. And the two old people with the golden crowns on their heads sat in the red glow of the evening sunlight and closed their eyes, and—and—the story was ended.The little boy lay in his bed and did not quite know whether he had been dreaming or listening to a story. The teapot stood on the table, but no elder bush grew out of it, and the old man who had really told the tale was on the threshold and just going out at the door.“How beautiful it was,” said the little boy. “Mother, I have been to warm countries.”“I can quite believe it,” said his mother. “When any one drinks two full cups of elder-flower tea, he may well get into warm countries”; and then she covered him up, that he should not take cold. “You have slept well while I have been disputing with the old man as to whether it was a real story or a fairy legend.”“And where is the Elder-tree Mother?” asked the boy.“She is in the teapot,” said the mother, “and there she may stay.”
In the sea of malice envy frequently gets out of her depth; and, while she is expecting to see another drowned, she is either drowned herself, or is dashed against a rock, as happened to some envious girls, about whom I will tell you a story.There once lived a Prince, who was a widower. He had an only daughter, so dear to him that he saw with no other eyes than hers; and he kept a governess for her, who taught her chain-work and knitting, and to make point-lace, and showed her such affection as no words can tell. But she was very lonely, and many a time she said to the governess, “Oh, that you had been my mother, you who show me such kindness and love,” and she said this so often that, at last, the governess, having a bee put into her bonnet, said to her one day, “If you will do as this foolish head of mine advises I shall be mother to you, and you will be as dear to me as the apple of my eye.”Illustrated by Heinrich Lefler. Part of a fairy tale calendar published 1905 by Berger & Wirth, Leipzig.She was going to say more, when Zezolla, for that was the name of the Princess, said, “Pardon me if I stop the word upon your tongue. I know you wish me well, therefore, hush—enough. Only show me the way. Do you write and I will subscribe.” “Well, then,” answered the governess, “open your ears and listen, and you will get bread as white as the flowers. You know well enough that your father would even coin false money to please you, so do you entreat him when he is caressing you to marry me and make me Princess. Then, bless your stars! you shall be the mistress of my life.”When Zezolla heard this, every hour seemed to her a thousand years until she had done all that her governess had advised; and, as soon as the mourning for her mother’s death was ended, she began to feel her father’s pulse, and beg him to marry the governess. At first the Prince took it as a joke, but Zezolla went on shooting so long past the mark that at length she hit it, and he gave way to her entreaties. So he married the governess, and gave a great feast at the wedding.Now, while the young folks were dancing, and Zezolla was standing at the window of her house, a dove came flying and perched upon a wall, and said to her, “Whenever you need anything send the request to the Dove of the Fairies in the Island of Sardinia, and you will instantly have what you wish.”For five or six days the new stepmother overwhelmed Zezolla with caresses, seating her at the best place at table, giving her the choicest morsels to eat, and clothing her in the richest apparel. But ere long, forgetting entirely the good service she had received (woe to him who has a bad master!), she began to bring forward six daughters of her own, for she had never before told any one that she was a widow with a bunch of girls; and she praised them so much, and talked her husband over in such a fashion, that at last the stepdaughters had all his favour, and the thought of his own child went entirely from his heart. In short, it fared so ill with the poor girl, bad to-day and worse to-morrow, that she was at last brought down from the royal chamber to the kitchen, from the canopy of state to the hearth, from splendid apparel of silks and gold to dishclouts, from the sceptre to the spit. And not only was her condition changed, but even her name, for, instead of Zezolla, she was now called Cenerentola.It happened that the Prince had occasion to go to Sardinia upon affairs of state, and, calling the six stepdaughters, he asked them, one by one, what they would like him to bring them on his return. Then one wished for splendid dresses, another to have head-ornaments, another rouge for the face, another toys and trinkets: one wished for this and one for that. At last the Prince said to his own daughter, as if in mockery, “And what would you have, child?” “Nothing, father,” she replied, “but that you commend me to the Dove of the Fairies, and bid her send me something; and if you forget my request, may you be unable to stir backwards or forwards; so remember what I tell you, for it will fare with you accordingly.”Then the Prince went his way and did his business in Sardinia, and procured all the things that his stepdaughters had asked for; but poor Zezolla was quite out of his thoughts. And going on board a ship he set sail to return, but the ship could not get out of the harbour; there it stuck fast just as if held by a sea-lamprey. The captain of the ship, who was almost in despair and fairly tired out, laid himself down to sleep, and in his dream he saw a fairy, who said to him, “Know you the reason why you cannot work the ship out of port? It is because the Prince who is on board with you has broken his promise to his daughter, remembering every one except his own child.”Then the captain awoke and told his dream to the Prince, who, in shame and confusion at the breach of his promise, went to the Grotto of the Fairies, and, commending his daughter to them, asked them to send her something. And behold, there stepped forth from the grotto a beautiful maiden, who told him that she thanked his daughter for her kind remembrances, and bade him tell her to be merry and of good heart out of love to her. And thereupon she gave him a date-tree, a hoe, and a little bucket all of gold, and a silken napkin, adding that the one was to hoe with and the other to water the plant.The Prince, marvelling at this present, took leave of the fairy, and returned to his own country. And when he had given his stepdaughters all the things they had desired, he at last gave his own daughter the gift which the fairy had sent her. Then Zezolla, out of her wits with joy, took the date-tree and planted it in a pretty flower-pot, hoed the earth round it, watered it, and wiped its leaves morning and evening with the silken napkin. In a few days it had grown as tall as a woman, and out of it came a fairy, who said to Zezolla, “What do you wish for?” And Zezolla replied that she wished sometimes to leave the house without her sisters’ knowledge. The fairy answered, “Whenever you desire this, come to the flower-pot and say:My little Date-tree, my golden tree,With a golden hoe I have hoed thee,With a golden can I have watered thee,With a silken cloth I have wiped thee dry,Now strip thee and dress me speedily.And when you wish to undress, change the last words and say, ‘Strip me and dress thee.'”When the time for the feast was come, and the stepmother’s daughters appeared, dressed out so fine, all ribbons and flowers, and slippers and shoes, sweet smells and bells, and roses and posies, Zezolla ran quickly to the flower-pot, and no sooner had she repeated the words, as the fairy had told her, than she saw herself arrayed like a queen, seated upon a palfrey, and attended by twelve smart pages, all in their best clothes. Then she went to the ball, and made the sisters envious of this unknown beauty.Even the young King himself was there, and as soon as he saw her he stood magic-bound with amazement, and ordered a trusty servant to find out who was that beautiful maiden, and where she lived. So the servant followed in her footsteps; but when Zezolla noticed the trick she threw on the ground a handful of crown-pieces which she had made the date-tree give her for this purpose. Then the servant lighted his lantern, and was so busy picking up all the crown-pieces that he forgot to follow the palfrey; and Zezolla came home quite safely, and had changed her clothes, as the fairy told her, before the wicked sisters arrived, and, to vex her and make her envious, told her of all the fine things they had seen. But the King was very angry with the servant, and warned him not to miss finding out next time who this beautiful maiden was, and where she dwelt.Soon there was another feast, and again the sisters all went to it, leaving poor Zezolla at home on the kitchen hearth. Then she ran quickly to the date-tree, and repeated the spell, and instantly there appeared a number of damsels, one with a looking-glass, another with a bottle of rose-water, another with the curling-irons, another with combs, another with pins, another with dresses, and another with capes and collars. And they decked her out as glorious as the sun, and put her in a coach drawn by six white horses, and attended by footmen and pages in livery. And no sooner did she appear in the ball-room than the hearts of the sisters were filled with amazement, and the King was overcome with love.When Zezolla went home the servant followed her again, but so that she should not be caught she threw down a handful of pearls and jewels, and the good fellow, seeing that they were not things to lose, stayed to pick them up. So she had time to slip away and take off her fine dress as before.Meanwhile the servant had returned slowly to the King, who cried out when he saw him, “By the souls of my ancestors, if you do not find out who she is you shall have such a thrashing as was never before heard of, and as many kicks as you have hairs in your beard!”When the next feast was held, and the sisters were safely out of the house, Zezolla went to the date-tree, and once again repeated the spell. In an instant she found herself splendidly arrayed and seated in a coach of gold, with ever so many servants around her, so that she looked just like a queen. Again the sisters were beside themselves with envy; but this time, when she left the ball-room, the King’s servant kept close to the coach. Zezolla, seeing that the man was ever running by her side, cried, “Coachman, drive on quickly,” and in a trice the coach set off at such a rattling pace that she lost one of her slippers, the prettiest thing that ever was seen. The servant being unable to catch the coach, which flew like a bird, picked up the slipper, and carrying it to the King told him all that happened. Whereupon the King, taking it in his hand, said, “If the basement, indeed, is so beautiful, what must the building be. You who until now were the prison of a white foot are now the fetter of an unhappy heart!”Then he made a proclamation that all the women in the country should come to a banquet, for which the most splendid provision was made of pies and pastries, and stews and ragouts, macaroni and sweetmeats—enough to feed a whole army. And when all the women were assembled, noble and ignoble, rich and poor, beautiful and ugly, the King tried the slipper on each one of the guests to see whom it should fit to a hair, and thus be able to discover by the help of the slipper the maiden of whom he was in search, but not one foot could he find to fit it. So he examined them closely whether indeed every one was there; and the Prince confessed that he had left one daughter behind, “but,” said he, “she is always on the hearth, and is such a graceless simpleton that she is unworthy to sit and eat at your table.” But the King said, “Let her be the very first on the list, for so I will.”So all the guests departed—the very next day they assembled again, and with the wicked sisters came Zezolla. When the King saw her he had his suspicions, but said nothing. And after the feast came the trial of the slipper, which, as soon as ever it approached Zezolla’s foot, it darted on to it of its own accord like iron flies to the magnet. Seeing this, the King ran to her and took her in his arms, and seating her under the royal canopy, he set the crown upon her head, whereupon all made their obeisance and homage to her as their queen.When the wicked sisters saw this they were full of venom and rage, and, not having patience to look upon the object of their hatred, they slipped quietly away on tip-toe and went home to their mother, confessing, in spite of themselves, that—“He is a madman who resists the Stars.”{Note: You can read illustrated versions of other Cinderella stories from around the world in our collection Cinderella Tales: International Cinderella Stories and Fairy Tales, now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback}
A poor scholar was going by the highway into a town, and found under the walls of the gate the body of a dead man, unburied, trodden by the feet of the passers-by. He had not much in his purse, but willingly gave enough to bury him, that he might not be spat upon and have sticks thrown at him. He performed his devotions over the fresh heaped-up grave, and went on into the world to wander. In an oak wood sleep overpowered him, and when he awoke, he espied with wonderment a bag full of gold. He thanked the unseen beneficent hand, and came to the bank of a large river, where it was necessary to be ferried over.The two ferrymen, observing the bag full of gold, took him into the boat, and just at an eddy took from him the gold and threw him into the water. As the waves carried him away insensible, he by accident clutched a plank, and by its aid floated successfully to the shore. It was not a plank, but the spirit of the buried man, who addressed him in these words: ‘You honoured my remains by burial; I thank you for it. In token of gratitude I will teach you how you can transform yourself into a crow, into a hare, and into a deer.’ Then he taught him the spell.The scholar, when acquainted with the spell, could with ease transform himself into a crow, into a hare, and into a deer. He wandered far, he wandered wide, till he wandered to the court of a mighty king, where he remained as an archer in attendance at the court. This king had a beautiful daughter, but she dwelt on an inaccessible island, surrounded on all sides by the sea. She dwelt in a castle of copper, and possessed a sword such that he who brandished it could conquer the largest army. Enemies had invaded the territory of the king; he needed and desired the victorious sword. But how to obtain it, when nobody had up to that time succeeded in getting on to the lonely island? He therefore made proclamation that whoever should bring the victorious sword from the princess should obtain her hand, and, moreover, should sit upon the throne after him.No one was venturesome enough to attempt it, till the wandering scholar, then an archer attached to the court, stood before the king announcing his readiness to go, and requesting a letter, that on receipt of that token the princess might give up the weapon to him. All men were astonished, and the king entrusted him with a letter to his daughter. He went into the forest, without knowing in the least that another archer attached to the court was dogging his steps. He first transformed himself into a hare, then into a deer, and darted off with haste and speed; he traversed no small distance, till he stood on the shore of the sea. He then transformed himself into a crow, flew across the water of the sea, and didn’t rest till he was on the island.He went into the castle of copper, delivered to the beautiful princess the letter from her father, and requested her to give him the victorious sword. The beautiful princess looked at the archer. He captured her heart at once. She asked inquisitively how he had been able to get to her castle, which was on all sides surrounded by water and knew no human footsteps. Thereupon the archer replied that he knew secret spells by which he could transform himself into a deer, a hare, and a crow. The beautiful princess, therefore, requested the archer to transform himself into a deer before her eyes.When he made himself into a graceful deer, and began to fawn and bound, the princess secretly pulled a tuft of fur from his back. When he transformed himself again into a hare, and bounded with pricked up ears, the princess secretly pulled a little fur off his back. When he changed himself into a crow and began to fly about in the room, the princess secretly pulled a few feathers from the bird’s wings. She immediately wrote a letter to her father and delivered up the victorious sword.The young scholar flew across the sea in the form of a crow, then ran a great distance in that of a deer, till in the neighbourhood of the wood he bounded as a hare. The treacherous archer was already there in ambush, saw when he changed himself into a hare, and recognised him at once. He drew his bow, let fly the arrow, and killed the hare. He took from him the letter and carried off the sword, went to the castle, delivered to the king the letter and the sword of victory, and demanded at once the fulfilment of the promise that had been made.The king, transported with joy, promised him immediately his daughter’s hand, mounted his horse, and rode boldly against his enemies with the sword. Scarcely had he espied their standards, when he brandished the sword mightily several times, and that towards the four quarters of the world. At every wave of the sword large masses of enemies fell dead on the spot, and others, seized with panic, fled like hares. The king returned joyful with victory, and sent for his beautiful daughter, to give her to wife to the archer who brought the sword. A banquet was prepared. The musicians were already striking up, the whole castle was brilliantly lighted; but the princess sat sorrowful beside the assassin-archer. She knew at once that he was in nowise the man whom she saw in the castle on the island, but she dared not ask her father where the other handsome archer was; she only wept much and secretly: her heart beat for the other.The poor scholar, in the hare’s skin, lay slain under the oak, lay there a whole year, till one night he felt himself awakened from a mighty sleep, and before him stood the well-known spirit, whose body he had buried. He told him what had happened to him, brought him back to life, and said: ‘To-morrow is the princess’s wedding; hasten, therefore, to the castle without a moment’s delay; she will recognise you; the archer, too, who killed you treacherously, will recognise you.’The young man sprang up promptly, went to the castle with throbbing heart, and entered the grand saloon, where numerous guests were eating and drinking. The beautiful princess recognised him at once, shrieked with joy, and fainted; and the assassin-archer, the moment he set eyes on him, turned pale and green from fear. Then the young man related the treason and murderous act of the archer, and in order to prove his words, turned himself in presence of all the assembled company into a graceful deer, and began to fawn upon the princess.She placed the tuft of fur pulled off him in the castle on the back of the deer, and the fur immediately grew into its place. Again he transformed himself into a hare, and similarly the piece of fur pulled off, which the princess had kept, grew into its place immediately on contact. All looked on in astonishment till the young man changed himself into a crow. The princess brought out the feathers which she had pulled from its wings in the castle, and the feathers immediately grew into their places. Then the old king commanded the assassin-archer to be put to death. Four horses were led out, all wild and unbroken. He was bound to them by his hands and feet, the horses were started off by the whip, and at one bound they tore the assassin-archer to pieces. The young man obtained the hand of the young and charming princess. The whole castle was in a brilliant blaze of light, they drank, they ate with mirth; and the princess did not weep, for she possessed the husband that she wished for.
There was once a Darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she came at last to believe that she was fit for embroidery.“Mind now that you hold me fast,” she said to the Fingers that took her up. “Pray don’t lose me. If I should fall on the ground I should certainly be lost, I am so fine.”“That’s more than you can tell,” said the Fingers, as they grasped her tightly by the waist.“I come with a train, you see,” said the Darning-needle, as she drew her long thread after her; but there was no knot in the thread.The Fingers pressed the point of the Needle upon an old pair of slippers, in which the upper leather had burst and must be sewed together. The slippers belonged to the cook.“This is very coarse work!” said the Darning-needle. “I shall never get through alive. There, I’m breaking! I’m breaking!” and break she did. “Did I not say so?” said the Darning-needle. “I’m too delicate for such work as that.”“Now it’s quite useless for sewing,” said the Fingers; but they still held her all the same, for the cook presently dropped some melted sealing wax upon the needle and then pinned her neckerchief in front with it.“See, now I’m a breastpin,” said the Darning-needle. “I well knew that I should come to honor; when one is something, one always comes to something. Merit is sure to rise.” And at this she laughed, only inwardly, of course, for one can never see when a Darning-needle laughs. There she sat now, quite at her ease, and as proud as if she sat in a state carriage and gazed upon all about her.“May I take the liberty to ask if you are made of gold?” she asked of the pin, her neighbor. “You have a splendid appearance and quite a remarkable head, though it is so little. You should do what you can to grow—of course it is not every one that can have sealing wax dropped upon her.”And the Darning-needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of the neckerchief into the sink, which the cook was at that moment rinsing.“Now I’m going to travel,” said the Darning-needle, “if only I don’t get lost.”But that was just what happened to her.“I’m too delicate for this world,” she said, as she found herself in the gutter. “But I know who I am, and there is always some little pleasure in that!” It was thus that the Darning-needle kept up her proud bearing and lost none of her good humor. And now all sorts of things swam over her—chips and straws and scraps of old newspapers.“Only see how they sail along,” said the Darning-needle to herself. “They little know what is under them, though it is I, and I sit firmly here. See! there goes a chip! It thinks of nothing in the world but itself—of nothing in the world but a chip! There floats a straw; see how it turns and twirls about. Do think of something besides yourself or you may easily run against a stone. There swims a bit of a newspaper. What’s written upon it is forgotten long ago, yet how it spreads itself out and gives itself airs! I sit patiently and quietly here! I know what I am, and I shall remain the same—always.”One day there lay something beside her that glittered splendidly. She thought it must be a diamond, but it was really only a bit of broken glass from a bottle. As it shone so brightly the Darning-needle spoke to it, introducing herself as a breastpin.“You are a diamond, I suppose,” she said.“Why, yes, something of the sort.”So each believed the other to be some rare and costly trinket; and they began to converse together upon the world, saying how very conceited it was.“This lady was a cook.” Illustration by W.M.P. Henderson, published in Andersen’s Best Fairy Tales by Alice Corbin Hendersen (1911), Rand McNally.“Yes,” said the Darning-needle, “I have lived in a young lady’s box; and the young lady happened to be a cook. She had five fingers upon each of her hands, and anything more conceited and arrogant than those five fingers, I never saw. And yet they were only there that they might take me out of the box or put me back again.”“Were they of high descent?” asked the Bit of Bottle. “Did they shine?”“No, indeed,” replied the Darning-needle; “but they were none the less haughty. There were five brothers of them—all of the Finger family. And they held themselves so proudly side by side, though they were of quite different heights. The outermost, Thumbling he was called, was short and thick set; he generally stood out of the rank, a little in front of the others; he had only one joint in his back, and could only bow once; but he used to say that if he were cut off from a man, that man would be cut off from military service. Foreman, the second, put himself forward on all occasions, meddled with sweet and sour, pointed to sun and moon, and when the fingers wrote, it was he who pressed the pen. Middleman, the third of the brothers, could look over the others’ heads, and gave himself airs for that. Ringman, the fourth, went about with a gold belt about his waist; and little Playman, whom they called Peter Spielman, did nothing at all and was proud of that, I suppose. There was nothing to be heard but boasting, and that is why I took myself away.”“And now we sit here together and shine,” said the Bit of Bottle.At that very moment some water came rushing along the gutter, so that it overflowed and carried the glass diamond along with it.“So he is off,” said the Darning-needle, “and I still remain. I am left here because I am too slender and genteel. But that’s my pride, and pride is honorable.” And proudly she sat, thinking many thoughts.“I could almost believe I had been born of a sunbeam, I’m so fine. It seems as if the sunbeams were always trying to seek me under the water. Alas, I’m so delicate that even my own mother cannot find me. If I had my old eye still, which broke off, I think I should cry—but no, I would not; it’s not genteel to weep.”One day a couple of street boys were paddling about in the gutter, hunting for old nails, pennies, and such like. It was dirty work, but they seemed to find great pleasure in it.“Hullo!” cried one of them, as he pricked himself with the Darning-needle; “here’s a fellow for you!”“I’m not a fellow! I’m a young lady!” said the Darning-needle, but no one heard it.The sealing wax had worn off, and she had become quite black; “but black makes one look slender, and is always becoming.” She thought herself finer even than before.“There goes an eggshell sailing along,” said the boys; and they stuck the Darning-needle into the shell.“A lady in black, and within white walls!” said the Darning-needle; “that is very striking. Now every one can see me. I hope I shall not be seasick, for then I shall break.”But the fear was needless; she was not seasick, neither did she break.“Nothing is so good to prevent seasickness as to have a steel stomach and to bear in mind that one is something a little more than an ordinary person. My seasickness is all over now. The more genteel and honorable one is, the more one can endure.”Crash went the eggshell, as a wagon rolled over both of them. It was a wonder that she did not break.“Mercy, what a crushing weight!” said the Darning-needle. “I’m growing seasick, after all. I’m going to break!”But she was not sick, and she did not break, though the wagon wheels rolled over her. She lay at full length in the road, and there let her lie.
The Story of a Water-nymph and an Island LadIn a tiny cottage on the steep rocky hillside of one of the islands of the Azores there lived a poor woman and her only son whose name was Francisco. Every day the boy went fishing in his little boat, and every night he brought home fish for his mother to cook for their evening meal and to carry into the market to sell. In this way they lived very comfortably, and they loved each other so dearly that they were as happy as happy can be.Francisco, with his fair skin, blue eyes and thatch of curly golden hair, was the handsomest boy in the whole parish, and by the time he was sixteen years old there was many a rich man’s daughter who had smiled upon him. However, the lad thought only of his fishing boat and his mother and did not notice the smiles.One night the moon was so bright that Francisco could not sleep. He awakened his mother who was dozing comfortably in her bed.“I’m going fishing, mother dear,” he said as he kissed her. “The moonlight is calling me.”His mother started up from her bed in terror and amazement.“Why, my boy, do you do such a thing as this?” she asked. “You have never been fishing in the night before. Some evil will surely befall you.”“Don’t worry about me, dear mother,” replied Francisco, laughing at her fears. “I know how to take care of myself. It is as light as day. Think how many fish I’ll bring back for you to sell in the market to-morrow.”His mother shook her head anxiously, but, with another loving kiss, the lad ran out into the bright moonlight. He quickly launched his little fishing boat and soon was floating smoothly along on the peaceful waters of the bay which gleamed like a silver pathway in the moonlight. The soft air, the gentle rocking of the little boat, and the face of the moon upon which his blue eyes were fixed combined to send sleep to his eyelids. Soon he was nodding in the little boat. A few moments later and he was fast asleep. The moon’s rays upon his curls made them shine as if they were indeed made of gold.Now the village maidens were not the only ones who had noticed Francisco’s blue eyes and handsome face. A water-nymph who dwelt in the depths of the sea had often observed him. In the daytime she was invisible to the eye of humans and so the lad had never seen her though she often spent long hours near him, never taking her eyes from his face.“Here comes the beautiful youth in his little fishing boat!” cried the nymph as she saw the moonlight gleaming upon his bright curls. “At last my wish has come true. Now at night he’ll be able to see me.”She hastily arranged her own beautiful hair before a little mirror she carried. Some of the strands of priceless pearls which decked her lovely head were a trifle awry. These and the necklaces of rare pearls which hung about her fair throat surrounded her with a gleam of soft light almost like the light of the moon. As she approached nearer to the little boat she saw that Francisco was fast asleep. She swam in the direction of the lad with all possible speed, a wild terror in her eyes.“What madness is this?” she asked as she looked down upon his bowed head. “This frail boat will drift upon the dangerous rocks and be dashed to pieces. I’ll take him home to my own palace without awakening him. Perhaps when he sees how lovely it is he’ll even like me a little bit.”Just for a moment she hesitated, thinking how far from home Francisco would be in the palace of mother-of-pearl in the depths of the sea.“The rocks are really very dangerous,” she said to herself as she gently drew his sleeping form into her arms.The next morning Francisco’s empty fishing boat was found by the fishermen. For hours his mother had watched in vain for his return. When at last she heard that the empty boat had been found she was nearly wild with grief.“He was the best son a mother ever had,” she moaned over and over again. “How can I live without him!”Indeed, as the days and weeks went by it was increasingly difficult for the poor woman to live. She not only missed her boy’s loving smile, but she also missed the fish he caught so skillfully. There was little for the poor woman to eat if she had any appetite for food.“Why don’t you go to the Wiseman of the Sea and tell him your troubles?” asked one of the neighbors.Francisco’s mother knew that it was a long and difficult journey to reach the Wiseman of the Sea. She decided, however, it would be worth the effort just to gaze into his wise eyes. He knew so much, perhaps he would know how to say something to comfort her in her great sorrow and loneliness. She had shrugged her shoulders when her neighbor had spoken of it but she could not get the idea out of her mind. She knew that she would never rest in peace until she had made this journey. Accordingly, she launched Francisco’s fishing boat, and, thanks to smooth seas, reached the little rocky island in the midst of the sea where the Wiseman of the Sea lived.His tall form was outlined above the cliff even as she tied her little boat. He was very tall, far taller than anybody she had ever seen, and his snow-white beard fell to his feet. He was clothed in fish scales which gleamed in the sunlight.“Well, little mother, what can I do for you to-day?” he asked, as she came up the path to the summit of the rock.The eyes of the Wiseman of the Sea were very kind as well as full of great wisdom. Francisco’s mother forgot to be afraid of him as she had expected to be. She told him the story of her lost son. The Wiseman listened carefully to her words and then he said:“Good mother, I am glad to tell you that I know where your Francisco is. He is in the power of a water-nymph who has carried him away to her castle of mother-of-pearl in the depths of the sea.”Francisco’s mother felt the tears of joy well up into her eyes. “Is my boy happy there and is he well?” she asked eagerly.“He is entirely well and happy. The water-nymph gave him a philtre which has made him forget his past life entirely.”“I’m glad you told me that,” said the boy’s mother. “I was just wondering how my dear lad could be happy while he was causing me so much sorrow. He has always been the best and kindest son with which a mother ever was blessed.”The Wiseman of the Sea started to say something, but the woman interrupted as a new thought flew into her mind. “Tell me,” she cried, “is there no way of getting him back? With all your wisdom can’t you think of some way to make him once more remember the mother who loves him and the little home in which we have passed so many happy days together? Do you not know some means of breaking the power which this water-nymph has over him?”The Wiseman looked out across the sea in silence for at least a minute and a half. He thought hard. Francisco’s mother watched him with eager eyes. She could hardly wait for his answer. At last these were the words which fell from his lips:“You have shed many tears, good woman, but tears are still to flow if you are to bring back your son.”“Oh, must I suffer more?” cried the heart-broken mother. “It seems that I have already lived a lifetime since my dear lad kissed me in the moonlight. I have endured all that I can bear.”The Wiseman smiled gently as he raised his hand. “Listen, my child,” he said. “Your tears must be shed upon the bosom of the waters. If, perchance, one of them should fall upon your son’s heart there in the palace of the water-nymph in the depths of the sea, the power of her philtre will be broken.”“I’ll shed whole oceans of tears if I can break the power of that water-nymph and bring back my Francisco,” said his mother.The fact is that she began to shed tears then and there, even before she had thanked the Wiseman of the Sea for what he had told her.Now it happened that Francisco had grown to love the beautiful palace of mother-of-pearl in the depths of the sea. He never tired of all its beauty. About the palace there were lovely gardens filled with flowers made of precious gems. Each tiny bud of that garden was worth a king’s ransom, so rich were the jewels which composed it. The water-nymph often gathered her arms full of these rare blossoms and wove them into a garland to crown Francisco’s golden curls. He never had a thought of the old life at home with his mother, so completely had the nymph’s philtre done its work.There was always a big fish swimming about the palace. On its back there was a cushion of seagreen satin embroidered with lovely pearls.“This is your riding horse,” said the water-nymph to Francisco the first day he had seen it. “If you should ever get tired of the palace and find the life here a bit monotonous, just mount this horse and ride about for a little.”The water-nymph had shaken out her long fair tresses so that they covered as much as possible of the fishtail she had instead of feet. She was very sensitive about the fact that she had no feet upon which to wear pretty little slippers like those of the maidens she had seen so often as they called out gay greetings to the handsome fisher-lad.Francisco had smiled into her eyes. “How absurd,” he cried, “to think of such a thing as getting tired of this wonderful place!”In fact the days had slipped by all too fast for the happy youth. Then it suddenly happened one day while the water-nymph was asleep that he thought of his mother, the little house which had been his home for sixteen years and more, the fishing boat which was his pride and joy, the moonlight night when he had gaily kissed his mother’s cheek and gone away never to return. He did not stop to waken the sleeping nymph. He said no word to the servants of the palace. He thought only of the fish with the cushion of sea-green satin embroidered with rare pearls.“Quick!” he cried to it. “Take me home as fast as you can! My mother’s heart is breaking! She has shed so many tears for me, I know, that by this time she may be entirely blind.”In another hour Francisco was safe at home with his mother’s arms about him. She had shed so many tears that her eyes were swollen almost shut, but they were not closed so completely that they could not shine with the great joy which once more filled her heart.“Promise me one thing,” she said to him. “Give me your word that you’ll never go fishing again. I don’t trust that water-nymph even in the daytime.”Accordingly, Francisco gave up being a fisherman and became a hunter. To make his spears, he gathered the young sapling which grew on the hillside even down to the edge of the water. He had grown still handsomer while he had lived in the palace of mother-of-pearl in the depths of the sea, and there were twice as many pretty maidens who cast smiling glances in his direction.It was the daughter of the rich man of the village who at last won the heart of Francisco. When he went a-wooing, however, he had no gift to take except the birds he had killed with his own hand. The rich man laughed at him. These were his words:“When my daughter marries it shall be only to a youth who can bring her rich gifts.”Francisco went away with a sad heart and sat upon the rocks at the edge of the sea, gazing out over the water with eyes so full of tears that they saw nothing.The water-nymph was not far away from the shore those days. She was always seeking for a glimpse of the golden head which she had so often crowned with flowers. Her joy now at the sight of him was buried by her sorrow when she saw that his heart was full of woe. She knew at once the cause of his grief.The next morning when Francisco went to get wood to make a new spear, he found a necklace of priceless pearls lying on the shore. It was the gift of the water-nymph, but since his heart had been touched by his mother’s tears he had entirely forgotten her. He took the gift to the maid he loved with never a thought of the giver.
Beside quiet Onota, in the Berkshire Hills, dwelt a band of Indians, and while they lived here a white deer often came to drink. So rare was the appearance of an animal like this that its visits were held as good omens, and no hunter of the tribe ever tried to slay it. A prophet of the race had said, “So long as the white doe drinks at Onota, famine shall not blight the Indian’s harvest, nor pestilence come nigh his lodge, nor foeman lay waste his country.” And this prophecy held true. That summer when the deer came with a fawn as white and graceful as herself, it was a year of great abundance. On the outbreak of the French and Indian War a young officer named Montalbert was despatched to the Berkshire country to persuade the Housatonic Indians to declare hostility to the English, and it was as a guest in the village of Onota that he heard of the white deer. Sundry adventurers had made valuable friendships by returning to the French capital with riches and curiosities from the New World. Even Indians had been abducted as gifts for royalty, and this young ambassador resolved that when he returned to his own country the skin of the white deer should be one of the trophies that would win him a smile from Louis.He offered a price for it—a price that would have bought all their possessions and miles of the country roundabout, but their deer was sacred, and their refusal to sacrifice it was couched in such indignant terms that he wisely said no more about it in the general hearing. There was in the village a drunken fellow, named Wondo, who had come to that pass when he would almost have sold his soul for liquor, and him the officer led away and plied with rum until he promised to bring the white doe to him. The pretty beast was so familiar with men that she suffered Wondo to catch her and lead her to Montalbert. Making sure that none was near, the officer plunged his sword into her side and the innocent creature fell. The snowy skin, now splashed with red, was quickly stripped off, concealed among the effects in Montalbert’s outfit, and he set out for Canada; but he had not been many days on his road before Wondo, in an access of misery and repentance, confessed to his share of the crime that had been done and was slain on the moment.With the death of the deer came an end to good fortune. Wars, blights, emigration followed, and in a few years not a wigwam was left standing beside Onota.There is a pendant to this legend, incident to the survival of the deer’s white fawn. An English hunter, visiting the lake with dog and gun, was surprised to see on its southern bank a white doe. The animal bent to drink and at the same moment the hunter put his gun to his shoulder. Suddenly a howl was heard, so loud, so long, that the woods echoed it, and the deer, taking alarm, fled like the wind. The howl came from the dog, and, as that animal usually showed sagacity in the presence of game, the hunter was seized with a fear that its form was occupied, for the time, by a hag who lived alone in the “north woods,” and who was reputed to have appeared in many shapes—for this was not so long after witch times that their influence was forgotten.Drawing his ramrod, the man gave his dog such a beating that the poor creature had something worth howling for, because it might be the witch that he was thrashing. Then running to the shanty of the suspected woman he flung open her door and demanded to see her back, for, if she had really changed her shape, every blow that he had given to the dog would have been scored on her skin. When he had made his meaning clear, the crone laid hold on the implement that served her for horse at night, and with the wooden end of it rained blows on him so rapidly that, if the dog had had half the meanness in his nature that some people have, the spectacle would have warmed his heart, for it was a prompt and severe revenge for his sufferings. And to the last the hunter could not decide whether the beating that he received was prompted by indignation or vengeance.
Many many years ago there lived a king and queen who had one only son, called Sigurd. When the little boy was only ten years old the queen, his mother, fell ill and died, and the king, who loved her dearly, built a splendid monument to his wife’s memory, and day after day he sat by it and bewailed his sad loss.One morning, as he sat by the grave, he noticed a richly dressed lady close to him. He asked her name and she answered that it was Ingiborg, and seemed surprised to see the king there all alone. Then he told her how he had lost his queen, and how he came daily to weep at her grave. In return, the lady informed him that she had lately lost her husband, and suggested that they might both find it a comfort if they made friends.This pleased the king so much that he invited her to his palace, where they saw each other often; and after a time he married her.After the wedding was over he soon regained his good spirits, and used to ride out hunting as in old days; but Sigurd, who was very fond of his stepmother, always stayed at home with her.One evening Ingiborg said to Sigurd: ‘To-morrow your father is going out hunting, and you must go with him.’ But Sigurd said he would much rather stay at home, and the next day when the king rode off Sigurd refused to accompany him. The stepmother was very angry, but he would not listen, and at last she assured him that he would be sorry for his disobedience, and that in future he had better do as he was told.After the hunting party had started she hid Sigurd under her bed, and bade him be sure to lie there till she called him.Sigurd lay very still for a long while, and was just thinking it was no good staying there any more, when he felt the floor shake under him as if there were an earthquake, and peeping out he saw a great giantess wading along ankle deep through the ground and ploughing it up as she walked.‘Good morning, Sister Ingiborg,’ cried she as she entered the room, ‘is Prince Sigurd at home?’‘No,’ said Ingiborg; ‘he rode off to the forest with his father this morning.’ And she laid the table for her sister and set food before her. After they had both done eating the giantess said: ‘Thank you, sister, for your good dinner–the best lamb, the best can of beer and the best drink I have ever had; but–is not Prince Sigurd at home?’Ingiborg again said ‘No’; and the giantess took leave of her and went away. When she was quite out of sight Ingiborg told Sigurd to come out of his hiding-place.The king returned home at night, but his wife told him nothing of what had happened, and the next morning she again begged the prince to go out hunting with his father. Sigurd, however, replied as before, that he would much rather stay at home.So once more the king rode off alone. This time Ingiborg hid Sigurd under the table, and scolded him well for not doing as she bade him. For some time he lay quite still, and then suddenly the floor began to shake, and a giantess came along wading half way to her knees through the ground.As she entered the house she asked, as the first one had done: ‘Well, Sister Ingiborg, is Prince Sigurd at home?’‘No,’ answered Ingiborg,’ he rode off hunting with his father this morning’; and going to the cupboard she laid the table for her sister. When they had finished their meal the giantess rose and said: ‘Thank you for all these nice dishes, and for the best lamb, the best can of beer and the nicest drink I have ever had; but–is Prince Sigurd really not at home?’‘No, certainly not!’ replied Ingiborg; and with that they took leave of each other.When she was well out of sight Sigurd crept from under the table, and his stepmother declared that it was most important that he should not stay at home next day; but he said he did not see what harm could come of it, and he did not mean to go out hunting, and the next morning, when the king prepared to start, Ingiborg implored Sigurd to accompany his father. But it was all no use, he was quite obstinate and would not listen to a word she said. ‘You will have to hide me again,’ said he, so no sooner had the king gone than Ingiborg hid Sigurd between the wall and the panelling, and by-and-by there was heard once more a sound like an earthquake, as a great giantess, wading knee deep through the ground, came in at the door.‘Good day, Sister Ingiborg!’ she cried, in a voice like thunder; ‘is Prince Sigurd at home?’‘Oh, no,’ answered Ingiborg, ‘he is enjoying himself out there in the forest. I expect it will be quite dark before he comes back again.’‘That’s a lie!’ shouted the giantess. And they squabbled about it till they were tired, after which Ingiborg laid the table; and when the giantess had done eating she said: ‘Well, I must thank you for all these good things, and for the best lamb, the best can of beer and the best drink I have had for a long time; but–are you quite sure Prince Sigurd is not at home?’‘Quite,’ said Ingiborg. ‘I’ve told you already that he rode off with his father this morning to hunt in the forest.’At this the giantess roared out with a terrible voice: ‘If he is near enough to hear my words, I lay this spell on him: Let him be half scorched and half withered; and may he have neither rest nor peace till he finds me.’ And with these words she stalked off.For a moment Ingiborg stood as if turned to stone, then she fetched Sigurd from his hiding-place, and, to her horror, there he was, half scorched and half withered.‘Now you see what has happened through your own obstinacy,’ said she; ‘but we must lose no time, for your father will soon be coming home.’Going quickly into the next room she opened a chest and took out a ball of string and three gold rings, and gave them to Sigurd, saying: ‘If you throw this ball on the ground it will roll along till it reaches some high cliffs. There you will see a giantess looking out over the rocks. She will call down to you and say: “Ah, this is just what I wanted! Here is Prince Sigurd. He shall go into the pot to-night”; but don’t be frightened by her. She will draw you up with a long boat-hook, and you must greet her from me, and give her the smallest ring as a present. This will please her, and she will ask you to wrestle with her. When you are exhausted, she will offer you a horn to drink out of, and though she does not know it, the wine will make you so strong that you will easily be able to conquer her. After that she will let you stay there all night. The same thing will happen with my two other sisters. But, above all, remember this: should my little dog come to you and lay his paws on you, with tears running down his face, then hurry home, for my life will be in danger. Now, good-bye, and don’t forget your stepmother.’Then Ingiborg dropped the ball on the ground, and Sigurd bade her farewell.That same evening the ball stopped rolling at the foot of some high rocks, and on glancing up, Sigurd saw the giantess looking out at the top.‘Ah, just what I wanted!’ she cried out when she saw him; ‘here is Prince Sigurd. He shall go into the pot to-night. Come up, my friend, and wrestle with me.’With these words she reached out a long boat hook and hauled him up the cliff. At first Sigurd was rather frightened, but he remembered what Ingiborg had said, and gave the giantess her sister’s message and the ring.The giantess was delighted, and challenged him to wrestle with her. Sigurd was fond of all games, and began to wrestle with joy; but he was no match for the giantess, and as she noticed that he was getting faint she gave him a horn to drink out of, which was very foolish on her part, as it made Sigurd so strong that he soon overthrew her.‘You may stay here to-night,’ said she; and he was glad of the rest.Next morning Sigurd threw down the ball again and away it rolled for some time, till it stopped at the foot of another high rock. Then he looked up and saw another giantess, even bigger and uglier than the first one, who called out to him: ‘Ah, this is just what I wanted! Here is Prince Sigurd. He shall go into the pot to-night. Come up quickly and wrestle with me.’ And she lost no time in hauling him up.The prince gave her his stepmother’s message and the second largest ring. The giantess was greatly pleased when she saw the ring, and at once challenged Sigurd to wrestle with her.They struggled for a long time, till at last Sigurd grew faint; so she handed him a horn to drink from, and when he had drunk he became so strong that he threw her down with one hand.On the third morning Sigurd once more laid down his ball, and it rolled far away, till at last it stopped under a very high rock indeed, over the top of which the most hideous giantess that ever was seen looked down.When she saw who was there she cried out: ‘Ah, this is just what I wanted! Here comes Prince Sigurd. Into the pot he goes this very night. Come up here, my friend, and wrestle with me.’ And she hauled him up just as her sisters had done.Sigurd then gave her his stepmother’s message and the last and largest ring. The sight of the red gold delighted the giantess, and she challenged Sigurd to a wrestling match. This time the fight was fierce and long, but when at length Sigurd’s strength was failing the giantess gave him something to drink, and after he had drunk it he soon brought her to her knees. ‘You have beaten me,’ she gasped, so now, listen to me. ‘Not far from here is a lake. Go there; you will find a little girl playing with a boat. Try to make friends with her, and give her this little gold ring. You are stronger than ever you were, and I wish you good luck.’With these words they took leave of each other, and Sigurd wandered on till he reached the lake, where he found the little girl playing with a boat, just as he had been told. He went up to her and asked what her name was.She was called Helga, she answered, and she lived near by.So Sigurd gave her the little gold ring, and proposed that they should have a game. The little girl was delighted, for she had no brothers or sisters, and they played together all the rest of the day.When evening came Sigurd asked leave to go home with her, but Helga at first forbade him, as no stranger had ever managed to enter their house without being found out by her father, who was a very fierce giant.However, Sigurd persisted, and at length she gave way; but when they came near the door she held her glove over him and Sigurd was at once transformed into a bundle of wool. Helga tucked the bundle under her arm and threw it on the bed in her room.Almost at the same moment her father rushed in and hunted round in every corner, crying out: ‘This place smells of men. What’s that you threw on the bed, Helga?’‘A bundle of wool,’ said she.‘Oh, well, perhaps it was that I smelt,’ said the old man, and troubled himself no more.The following day Helga went out to play and took the bundle of wool with her under her arm. When she reached the lake she held her glove over it again and Sigurd resumed his own shape.They played the whole day, and Sigurd taught Helga all sorts of games she had never even heard of. As they walked home in the evening she said: ‘We shall be able to play better still to-morrow, for my father will have to go to the town, so we can stay at home.’When they were near the house Helga again held her glove over Sigurd, and once more he was turned into a bundle of wool, and she carried him in without his being seen.Very early next morning Helga’s father went to the town, and as soon as he was well out of the way the girl held up her glove and Sigurd was himself again. Then she took him all over the house to amuse him, and opened every room, for her father had given her the keys before he left; but when they came to the last room Sigurd noticed one key on the bunch which had not been used and asked which room it belonged to.’Helga grew red and did not answer.‘I suppose you don’t mind my seeing the room which it opens?’ asked Sigurd, and as he spoke he saw a heavy iron door and begged Helga to unlock it for him. But she told him she dared not do so, at least if she did open the door it must only be a very tiny chink; and Sigurd declared that would do quite well.The door was so heavy, that it took Helga some time to open it, and Sigurd grew so impatient that he pushed it wide open and walked in. There he saw a splendid horse, all ready saddled, and just above it hung a richly ornamented sword on the handle of which was engraved these words: ‘He who rides this horse and wears this sword will find happiness.’At the sight of the horse Sigurd was so filled with wonder that he was not able to speak, but at last he gasped out: ‘Oh, do let me mount him and ride him round the house! Just once; I promise not to ask any more.’‘Ride him round the house! ‘ cried Helga, growing pale at the mere idea. ‘Ride Gullfaxi! Why father would never, never forgive me, if I let you do that.’‘But it can’t do him any harm,’ argued Sigurd; ‘you don’t know how careful I will be. I have ridden all sorts of horses at home, and have never fallen off not once. Oh, Helga, do!’‘Well, perhaps, if you come back directly,’ replied Helga, doubtfully; ‘but you must be very quick, or father will find out!’But, instead of mounting Gullfaxi, as she expected, Sigurd stood still.‘And the sword,’ he said, looking fondly up to the place where it hung. ‘My father is a king, but he has not got any sword so beautiful as that. Why, the jewels in the scabbard are more splendid than the big ruby in his crown! Has it got a name? Some swords have, you know.’‘It is called “Gunnfjoder,” the “Battle Plume,”‘ answered Helga, ‘and “Gullfaxi” means “Golden Mane.” I don’t suppose, if you are to get on the horse at all, it would matter your taking the sword too. And if you take the sword you will have to carry the stick and the stone and the twig as well.’‘They are easily carried,’ said Sigurd, gazing at them with scorn; ‘what wretched dried-up things! Why in the world do you keep them?’‘Bather says that he would rather lose Gullfaxi than lose them,’ replied Helga, ‘for if the man who rides the horse is pursued he has only to throw the twig behind him and it will turn into a forest, so thick that even a bird could hardly fly through. But if his enemy happens to know magic, and can throw down the forest, the man has only to strike the stone with the stick, and hailstones as large as pigeons’ eggs will rain down from the sky and will kill every one for twenty miles round.’Having said all this she allowed Sigurd to ride ‘just once’ round the house, taking the sword and other things with him. But when he had ridden round, instead of dismounting, he suddenly turned the horse’s head and galloped away.Soon after this Helga’s father came home and found his daughter in tears. He asked what was the matter, and when he heard all that had happened, he rushed off as fast as he could to pursue Sigurd.Now, as Sigurd happened to look behind him he saw the giant coming after him with great strides, and in all haste he threw the twig behind him. Immediately such a thick wood sprang up at once between him and his enemy that the giant was obliged to run home for an axe with which to cut his way through.The next time Sigurd glanced round, the giant was so near that he almost touched Gullfaxi’s tail. In an agony of fear Sigurd turned quickly in his saddle and hit the stone with the stick. No sooner had he done this than a terrible hailstorm burst behind, and the giant was killed on the spot.But had Sigurd struck the stone without turning round, the hail would have driven right into his face and killed him instead.After the giant was dead Sigurd rode on towards his own home, and on the way he suddenly met his stepmother’s little dog, running to meet him, with tears pouring down its face. He galloped on as hard as he could, and on arriving found nine men-servants in the act of tying Queen Ingiborg to a post in the courtyard of the palace, where they intended to burn her.Wild with anger Prince Sigurd sprang from his horse and, sword in hand, fell on the men and killed them all. Then he released his stepmother, and went in with her to see his father.The king lay in bed sick with sorrow, and neither eating nor drinking, for he thought that his son had been killed by the queen. He could hardly believe his own eyes for joy when he saw the prince, and Sigurd told him all his adventures.After that Prince Sigurd rode back to fetch Helga, and a great feast was made which lasted three days; and every one said no bride was ever seen so beautiful as Helga, and they lived happily for many, many years, and everybody loved them.
There was once a little boy called Sigli, who, I am sorry to say, took great pleasure in catching and killing little birds. His father was a notorious robber, so it was not surprising that Sigli gave way to acts of cruelty. His mother died when he was little more than a year old, and he did not know any other relation. In the north of Portugal, bands of robbers used to frequent the roads, and some of them lived in strong castles, and had a large retinue of followers. In time of war these robber-chiefs would side with the king’s party, because after the war was over they received large grants of land for the assistance they had rendered the sovereign. Sometimes when the neighbouring kings of Spain invaded Portugal, these robbers proved of great advantage in repelling the invaders; but in following up their victories they would despoil all the churches in the enemy’s country of the gold and silver idols, which the priests had caused to be made in order to get the ignorant peasantry to make offerings of money, corn, and oil, in exchange for which the priests, in the name of the idols, offered all those who gave, pardon of their sins.Now, Sigli’s father had on many occasions robbed gold and silver idols, and had murdered a few brethren of the Holy Inquisition, who, in their turn, were well known for the wicked deeds they had committed, such as burning Christian men and women who did not, and could not, profess the popish faith. But in course of time the Jesuits, for so they were called, made common cause against these robbers, and either put them to death, or obliged them to leave off robbing churches and take to cheating the peasantry.Sigli, as I said before, was a very cruel boy, and he was the terror of all the birds and beasts. He would lay traps for them, and when he had caught them he would take pleasure in tormenting them, which clearly proved that he was not a Christian, nor possessed of any refinement. But he took more pleasure in catching Robin-redbreasts than in anything else, and for this purpose he used bird-lime. He had caught and killed so many that at last King Robin of Birdland issued invitations to all his feathered subjects and to the beasts of the field, asking them to a meeting at which they might discuss the best means of putting Sigli to death, or punishing him in some other way, for the cruelty of which he was guilty towards them.Among the many who accepted the invitation was an old fox, the first of the Reynards, and when it came to his turn to speak, he said that as Sigli was so fond of catching redbreasts with bird-lime, he (Mr. Reynard) would propose catching Sigli in the same manner; and when caught they might discuss how they should punish him, either by pecking and biting him, or by getting the wolves to eat him. In order to carry out this idea, he suggested that the monkeys should be asked to prepare the bird-lime, which they might use with safety by oiling their hands, and then gradually make a man of bird-lime close to the robber chief’s castle. Sigli would probably take it for some poor man, and hit it, and then he would not be able to get away.This idea was accepted by all in general, and by Mrs. Queen Bee in particular, who owed Sigli and his father a grudge for destroying her hive; and the monkeys cheerfully set to work, while King Robin watched the putting together of the figure, and was very useful in giving it most of the artistic merit it possessed when finished. The making took one whole night, and next morning, almost opposite the castle, stood the bird-lime figure about the size of a man.Sigli, seeing it from his dressing-room window, and taking it for a beggar, was so enraged that he ran out without his shoes and stockings, and, without waiting to look at the man, he struck at him with his right hand so that it stuck firmly to the figure.“Let go,” he cried, “or I will kick you!” And as the figure did not let go he kicked it, so that his foot was glued. “Let go my foot,” he cried out, “or I will kick you with the other;” and, doing so, both his legs were glued to it. Then he knocked up against the figure, and the more he did so the more firmly he was glued.Then his father, hearing his cries, rushed out, and said—“Oh, you bad man! I will squeeze you to death for hurting my dear Sigli!”No sooner said than done, and the robber chief was glued on to the bird-lime figure.The screams of the two attracted the attention of the servants, who, seeing their robber master, as they thought, murdering his little boy, ran away and never came back again.King Robin was now master of the situation, and he directed ten thousand bees under General Bumble, and another ten thousand wasps under Colonel Hornet, to fall on the robber and cruel Sigli and sting them to death. But this was hardly necessary, as the wriggling of their bodies so fixed them to the figure that they died of suffocation.Then King Robin ordered the wolves to dig a large grave, into which the monkeys rolled Sigli, his father, and the bird-lime figure; and after covering it up, they all took charge of the castle, and lived there for many years undisturbed, acknowledging King Robin as their king; and if the Jesuits did not turn them out, I am certain they are still there.
Up near the Village of Cream Puffs is a string of ball towns hiding in the tall grass. Passengers in the railroad trains look out of the windows and the tall grass stands up so they can’t see the ball towns. But the ball towns are there and the tall grass is full of pitchers, catchers, basemen, fielders, short stops, sluggers, southpaws and backstops. They play ball till dark and after dark they talk ball.The big fast ballplayers in the Rootabaga Country all come from these ball towns in the tall grass. The towns used to have names like names in books. But now the names are all like ball talk: Knock the Cover Off, Home Plate, Chest Protector, Grand Stand, Nine Innings, Three Balls and Two Strikes, Bases Full and Two Out, Big League, Bush League, Hot Grounder, Out Drop, Bee Liner, Muffs and Pick Ups, Slide Kelly Slide, Paste It On the Nose. Now the Night Policeman in the Village of Cream Puffs stopped in at the Cigar Store one night and a gang of cub ballplayers loafing and talking ball talk asked him if there was anything in the wind. And he told them this happening: “I was sitting on the front steps of the post  office last night thinking how many letters get lost and how many letters never get answered.A ballplayer came along with a package and said his name was Butter Fingers and he was the heavy hitter, the hard slugger, for the Grand Stand ball team playing a championship game the day before with the Hot Grounders ball team. He came to the Village of Cream Puffs the day before the game, found a snoox and a gringo and got the snoox and the gringo to make him a home run shirt. Wearing a home run shirt, he told me, you knock a home run every time you come to bat. He said he knocked a home run every time he came to bat, and it was his home runs won the game for the Grand Standers. He was carrying a package and said the home run shirt was in the package and he was taking it back to the snoox and the gringo because he promised he wouldn’t keep it, and it belonged to the snoox and the gringo and they only rented it to him for the championship game. The last I saw of him he was hot-footing it pitty-pat pitty- pat up the street with the package.“Well, I just said tra-la-loo to Butter Fingers when along comes another ballplayer. He had a package too, and he said his name was Three Strikes, and he was the left-handed southpaw pitcher for the Hot Grounders team the day before playing a game against the Grand Stand team. He said he knew unless he put over some classy pitching the game was lost and everything was goose eggs. So he came to the Village of Cream Puffs the day before the game, found a snoox and a gringo and got the snoox and the gringo to make him a spitball shirt. A spitball looks easy, he told me, but it has smoke and whiskers and nobody can touch it. He said he handed the Grand Standers a line of inshoots close to their chins and they never got to first base.Three Strikes was carrying a package and he said the spitball shirt was in the package, and he was taking it back to the snoox and the gringo because he promised he wouldn’t keep it and it belonged to the snoox and the gringo and they only rented it to him. The last I saw of him he was hot-footing it pitty-pat pitty-pat up the street with a package.” The gang of cub ballplayers in the Cigar, Store asked the Night Policeman, “Who won the game? Was it the Grand Standers or the Hot Grounders took the grawy?” You can search me for the answer,” he told the boys. “If the snoox and the gringo come past the post office to-night when I sit on the front steps wondering how so many letters get lost and how so many never get answered, I will ask the snoox and the gringo and if they tell me to-night I’ll tell you to-morrow night.”And ever since then when they talk ball talk in the ball towns hiding in the tall grass they say the only sure way to win a ball game is to have a pitcher with a spitball shirt and over that a home run shirt, both made by a snoox and a gringo.
When the wind throws the dust up in the air, and whirls it round in a dry eddy, it shows the dance of an evil spirit. Whenever you see this, shut up at once all the doors and windows in your hut, or it will certainly do some mischief to your bones. If, however, you are courageous, and wish to obtain riches at the sacrifice of your soul, take a new knife that has been sprinkled with holy water, and throw it dexterously into the very middle of the whirlwind.One day, a fearless young peasant, angry with the demon, who, in the shape of a hurricane, had blown off the roof of his barn, took up a new, consecrated knife, and stuck it in the ground in the very centre of the dust-eddy. In a moment the demon appeared, bent double, as if suffering great pain, and trembling with fear. He asked the peasant what he wanted with him.“Mend my barn,” cried the man in a great fury. “Fill up my potato hole with gold; then bring to my hut a keg of brandy and three sides of bacon.”“I will do it all,” answered the demon; “but first take the knife out of the ground. It hurts me cruelly.”“No!” cried the peasant; “first do what I tell you.”The obedient spirit did all that was demanded of him. Some time after this the young peasant fell sick. As he was about to die, his friends, who were gathered round him, saw the demon standing at the head of the bed waiting for his soul. They all lamented his miserable fate, and his godfather said,—“If, instead of asking for money, he had shot the demon with a silver button, he would have lived to be an old man, and have saved his soul.”
About one Danish mile from the capital stood an old manor-house, with thick walls, towers, and pointed gable-ends. Here lived, but only in the summer-season, a rich and courtly family. This manor-house was the best and the most beautiful of all the houses they owned. It looked outside as if it had just been cast in a foundry, and within it was comfort itself. The family arms were carved in stone over the door; beautiful roses twined about the arms and the balcony; a grass-plot extended before the house with red-thorn and white-thorn, and many rare flowers grew even outside the conservatory. The manor kept also a very skillful gardener. It was a real pleasure to see the flower-garden, the orchard, and the kitchen-garden. There was still to be seen a portion of the manor’s original garden, a few box-tree hedges cut in shape of crowns and pyramids, and behind these two mighty old trees almost always without leaves. One might almost think that a storm or water-spout had scattered great lumps of manure on their branches, but each lump was a bird’s-nest. A swarm of rooks and crows from time immemorial had built their nests here. It was a townful of birds, and the birds were the manorial lords here. They did not care for the proprietors, the manor’s oldest family branch, nor for the present owner of the manor,—these were nothing to them; but they bore with the wandering creatures below them, notwithstanding that once in a while they shot with guns in a way that made the birds’ back-bones shiver, and made every bird fly up, crying “Rak, Rak!”The gardener very often explained to the master the necessity of felling the old trees, as they did not look well, and by taking them away they would probably also get rid of the screaming birds, which would seek another place. But he never could be induced either to give up the trees or the swarm of birds the manor could not spare them, as they were relics of the good old times, that ought always to be kept in remembrance.“The trees are the birds’ heritage by this time!” said the master. “So let them keep them, my good Larsen.” Larsen was the gardener’s name, but that is of very little consequence in this story. “Haven’t you room enough to work in, little Larsen? Have you not the flower-garden, the green-houses, the orchard and the kitchen-garden!”He cared for them, he kept them in order and cultivated them with zeal and ability, and the family knew it; but they did not conceal from him that they often tasted fruits and saw flowers in other houses that surpassed what he had in his garden, and that was a sore trial to the gardener, who always wished to do the best, and really did the best he could. He was good-hearted, and a faithful servant.The owner sent one day for him, and told him kindly that the day before, at a party given by some friends of rank, they had eaten apples and pears which were so juicy and well-flavored that all the guests had loudly expressed their admiration. To be sure, they were not native fruits, but they ought by all means to be introduced here, and to be acclimatized if possible. They learned that the fruit was bought of one of the first fruit-dealers in the city, and the gardener was to ride to town and find out about where they came from, and then order some slips for grafting. The gardener was very well acquainted with the dealer, because he was the very person to whom he sold the fruit that grew in the manor-garden, beyond what was needed by the family. So the gardener went to town and asked the fruit-dealer where he had found those apples and pears that were praised so highly.“They are from your own garden,” said the fruit-dealer, and he showed him, both the apples and pears, which he recognized. Now, how happy the gardener felt! He hastened back to his master, and told him that the apples and pears were all from his own garden. But he would not believe it.“It cannot be possible, Larsen. Can you get a written certificate of that from the fruit-dealer?” And that he could; and brought him a written certificate.“That is certainly wonderful!” said the family.And now every day were set on the table great dishes filled with beautiful apples and pears from their own garden; bushels and barrels of these fruits were sent to friends in the city and country, nay, were even sent abroad. It was exceedifigly pleasant; but when they talked with the gardener they said that the last two seasons had been remarkably favorable for fruits, and that fruits had done well all over the country.Some time passed. The family were at dinner at court. The next day the gardener was sent for. They had eaten melons at the royal table which they found very juicy and well-flavored; they came from his Majesty’s green-house. “You must go and see the court-gardener, and let him give you some seeds of those melons.”“But the gardener at the court got his melon-seeds from us,” said the gardener, highly delighted.“But then that man understands how to bring the fruit to a higher perfection,” was the answer. “Each particular melon was delicious.”“Well; then, I really may feel proud,” said the gardener. “I must tell your lordship that the gardener at the court did not succeed very well with his melons this year, and so, seeing how beautiful ours looked, he tasted them and ordered from me three of them for the castle.”“Larsen, do not pretend to say that those were melons from our garden.”“Really, I dare say as much,” said the gardener, who went to the court-gardener and got from him a written certificate to the effect that the melons on the royal. table were from the manor. That was certainly a great surprise to the family, and they did not keep the story to themselves. Melon-seeds were sent far and wide, in the same way as had been done with the slips, which they were now hearing had begun to take, and to bear fruit of an excellent kind. The fruit was named after the manor, and the name was written in English, German, and French. This was something they never had dreamed of.“We are afraid that the gardener will come to think too much of himself,” said they; but he looked on it in another way: what he wished was to get the reputation of being one of the best gardeners in the country, and to produce every year something exquisite out of all sorts of garden stuff, and that he did. But he often had to hear that the fruits which he first brought, the apples and pears, were after all the best. All other kinds of fruits were inferior to these. The melons, too, were very good, but they belonged to quite another species. His strawberries were very excellent, but by no means better than many others; and when it happened one year that his radishes did not succeed, they only spoke of them, and not of other good things he had made succeed.It really seemed as if the family felt some relief in saying “It won’t turn out well this year, little Larsen!” They seemed quite glad when they could say “It won’t turn out well!”The gardener used always twice a week to bring them fresh flowers, tastefully arranged, and the colors by his arrangements were brought out in stronger light.“You have good taste, Larsen,” said the owner, “but that is a gift from our Lord, not from yourself.”One day the gardener brought a great crystal vase with a floating leaf of a white water-lily, upon which was laid, with its long thick stalk descending into the water, a sparkling blue flower as large as a sunflower.“The sacred lotos of Hindostan!” exclaimed the family. They had never seen such a flower; it was placed every day in the sunshine, and in the evening under artificial light. Every one who saw it found it wonderfully beautiful and rare; and that said the most noble young lady in the country, the wise and kind-hearted princess. The lord of the manor deemed it an honor to present her with the flower, and the princess took it with her to the castle. Now the master of the house went down to the garden to pluck another flower of the same sort, but he could not find any. So he sent for the gardener, and asked him where he kept the blue lotos. “I have been looking for it in vain,” said he. “I went into the conservatory, and round about the flower-garden.”“No, it is not there!” said the gardener. “It is nothing else than a common flower from the kitchen-garden, but do you not find it beautiful? It looks as if it was the blue cactus, and yet it is only a kitchen-herb. It is the flower of the artichoke!”“You should have told us that at the time!” said the master. “We supposed of course that it was a strange and rare flower. You have made us ridiculous in the eyes of the young princess! She saw the flower in our house and thought it beautiful. She did not know the flower, and she is versed in botany, too, but then that has nothing to do with kitchen-herbs. How could you take it into your head, my good Larsen, to put such a flower up in our drawing-room? It makes us ridiculous.”And the magnificent blue flower from the kitchen-garden was turned out of the drawing-room, which was not at all the place for it. The master made his apology to the princess, telling her that it was only a kitchen-herb which the gardener had taken into his head to exhibit, but that he had been well reprimanded for it.“That was a pity,” said the princess, “for he has really opened our eyes to see the beauty of a flower in a place where we should not have thought of looking for it. Our gardener shall every day, as long as the artichoke is in bloom, bring one of them up into the drawing-room.”Then the master told his gardener that he might again bring them a fresh artichoke-flower. “It is, after all, a very nice flower,” said he, “and a truly remarkable one.” And so the gardener was praised again. “Larsen likes that,” said the master; “he is a spoiled child.”In the autumn there came up a great gale, which increased so violently in the night that. several large trees in the outskirts of the wood were torn up by the roots; and to the great grief of the household, but to the gardener’s delight, the two big trees blew down, with all their birds’-nests on them. In the manor-house they heard during the storm the screaming of rooks and crows, beating their wings against the windows.“Now I suppose you are happy, Larsen,” said the master: “the storm has felled the trees, and the birds have gone off to the woods; there is nothing left from the good old days; it is all gone, and we are very sorry for it.”The gardener said nothing, but he thought of what he long had turned over in his mind, how he could make that pretty sunny spot very useful, so that it could become an ornament to the garden and a pride to the family. The great trees which had been blown down had shattered the venerable hedge of box, that was cut into fanciful shapes.Here he set out a multitude of plants that were not to be seen in other gardens. He made an earthen wall, on which he planted all sorts of native flowers from the fields and woods. What no other gardener had ever thought of planting in the manor-garden he planted, giving each its appropriate soil, and the plants were in sunlight or shadow according as each species required. He cared tenderly for them, and they grew up finely. The juniper-tree from the heaths of Jutland rose in shape and color like the Italian cypress; the shining, thorny Christ-thorn, as green in the winter’s cold as in the summer’s sun, was splendid to see. In the foreground grew ferns of various species: some of them looked as if they were children of the palm-tree; others, as if they were parents of the pretty plants called “Venus’s golden locks” or “Maiden-hair.” Here stood the despised burdock, which is so beautiful in its freshness that it looks well even in a bouquet. The burdock stood in a dry place, but below in the moist soil grew the colt’s-foot, also a despised plant, but yet most picturesque, with its tall stem and large leaf. Like a candelabrum with a multitude of branches six feet high, and with flower over against flower, rose the mullein, a mere field plant. Here stood the woodroof and the lily of the valley, the wild calla and the fine three-leaved wood-sorrel. It was a wonder to see all this beauty!In the front grew in rows very small peartrees from French soil, trained on wires. By plenty of sun and good care they soon bore as juicy fruits as in their own country. Instead of the two old leafless trees was placed a tall flag-staff, where the flag of Dannebrog was displayed; and near by stood another pole, where the hop-tendril in summer or harvest-time wound its fragrant flowers; but in winter-time, after ancient custom, oat-sheaves were fastened to it, that the birds of the air might find here a good meal in the happy Christmas-time.“Our good Larsen is growing sentimental as he grows old,” said the family; “but he is faithful, and quite attached to us.”In one of the illustrated papers there was a picture at New Year’s of the old manor, with the flag-staff and the oat-sheaves for the birds of the air, and the paper said that the old manor had preserved that beautiful old custom, and deserved great credit for it.“They beat the drum for all Larsen’s doings,” said the family. “He is a lucky fellow, and we may almost be proud of having such a man in our service.”But they were not a bit proud of it. They were very well aware that they were the lords of the manor; they could give Larsen warning, in fact, but they did not. They were good people, and fortunate it is for every Mr. Larsen that there are so many good people like them.Yes, that is the story of the gardener and the manor. Now you may think a little about it.
The Lord was angered at mankind, and for three years there was a great famine over all the world; nowhere in the world was even a grain of corn produced, and what people sowed failed to come up from a drought so great, that for three years there was not a drop of rain or dew. For one year more people managed to live somehow or other, thrashing up what old corn there was; the rich made money, for corn rose very high. Autumn came. Where anybody had or purchased old seed, they sowed it; and entreated the Lord, hoped in the love of God, if God would give fertility, ‘if God would forgive our sins.’ But it was not so. They did not obtain the love of God. When they cast the seed into the holy earth, that was the last they saw of it; if it germinated somewhat, if it sent up shoots, it withered away close to the ground. Woe! and abundance of it! God’s world went on, sorrowed and wept, for now it was manifest that death by hunger was approaching. They somehow got miserably through the winter. Spring came. Where anybody had still any grain, they sowed it. What would come to pass? No blessing was poured forth, for the drought began with wind. Moreover, there was but little snow in the winter, and everything dried up so that the black earth remained as it was. It now came to this–all the world began to perish! The people died; the cattle perished; as misery carried them, so did the people proceed.There was at that time a powerful emperor in a certain empire; as the young ordinarily cleave to the young, so would he associate only with young men. Whether in council or in office or in the army, there were none but young men; no old man had access to anything anywhere. Well, as young men, unripe in understanding, were the counsellors, so was their counsel also unripe. One year passed, a second passed; then, in the third year, they saw that misery was already on every side, that it was already coming to this, that all the world would perish. The young emperor assembled his young council, and they began to advise after their fashion; they advised, they advised, and ah! the resolutions they came to were such that it is a sin even to give an account of their resolutions! Weil, the emperor made proclamation after their advice, that all old people were to be drowned, in order that, said he, bread might not be wasted in vain, but there might be a supply of bread for the young; and that no one should venture, on pain of death, to maintain or harbour any old man. Well, heralds went about throughout the whole country, and promulgated the emperor’s command everywhere–yea, brigands seized old people where they chose, and drowned them without mercy.There were then in a certain place three own brothers, who had an aged father. When they heard of this edict, they told their father; and their father said: ‘My sons, such is the will of God and the will of the emperor; take me, let me perish at once, only that you, my children, may live on. I am already with one foot in the grave.’ ‘No, our own daddy! we will die, but we will not give you up,’ cried the good sons with one voice, and fell upon his neck; we will keep you; we will take from our own mouths, and will nourish you.’The three brothers took their aged father, conducted him into their cottage, dug under the raised portion of the floor, made up a bed with sheets and frieze-coats, for straw was scarce, and placed the old man there, brought him a loaf of bread as black as the holy earth, and covered him over with the floor. There the old man abode for two or three months, and his sons brought him clandestinely all that they had. The summer passed without harvest, without mowing. September passed too. Autumn passed without joy. Winter passed too. Now came spring; the sun became warm. It was now time to sow, but there was no seed. The world was large, but there was no seed-corn. When one kind was used up, the people sowed others, hoping that there would be a crop; but when they cast it into the holy earth, it rotted there. It seemed as if the end of the world were come.Then the three sons went to their father, and asked him: ‘Daddy, what shall we do? It’s time to sow, God is now sending showers of rain; the earth is warmed and is crumbling like grits; but of seed there is not a blessed grain.’ ‘Take, my sons, and strip the old roof off the house, and thresh the bundles and sow the chaff.’The lads stripped the house and barn (anyhow, there was nothing in it), and threshed away till the sweat ran from their brows, so that they crushed the bundles as small as poppy-seeds. When they sowed, God gave a blessing; so in a week’s time it became green like rue; in a month’s time, in two months’ time, there was corn, ever so much–ever so much, and all manner of seed was found there: there was rye, there was wheat and barley; yea, maybe, there was also a plant or two of buckwheat and millet. Wherever you went throughout the world there was no corn to be seen; all the plain was overgrown with grasses, steppe-grasses, and thistles, but with them was corn like a forest. How people wondered and were astounded! The fame thereof went over the whole world, and the news reached the emperor himself, that in such and such a place there were three own brothers, and with them corn had sprung up for all the world, and so beautiful, never was the like beheld! The emperor ordered the three brothers to appear in the imperial presence.The brothers heard of it, and smacked the tops of their heads with their hands. ‘Now it will be amen with us!’ They went again to their father. ‘Daddy! they tell us to appear before the emperor. Advise us, daddy, what to do!’ ‘Go, my sons–what will be, will be; and tell the pure truth before the emperor.’ The brothers started off and went to the emperor. The emperor inquired menacingly: ‘Why, villains, did ye hoard up corn, when there was such a famine that so many people died of hunger? Tell the truth; if not, I shall order you to be tortured and racked even unto death.’ The brothers related all as it had been, from the beginning to the end. ‘Now, most gracious emperor, give us over to any torture whatever, or let thy kindness have compassion on us!’ The emperor’s brow became smooth, his eyes became serene. He then ordered the old father to be brought before him at once, and made him sit beside him close to his throne, and hearkened to his counsel till death, and his sons he rewarded handsomely. He ordered the corn to be collected ear by ear, and to be rubbed out in men’s hands; and sent it about for seed-corn in all empires, and from it was produced holy corn for all the world.
Once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one son. A very scarce summer came, and they didn’t know how they’d live till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. So Jack said to his mother one evening, “Mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till I go seek my fortune; and if I meet it, never fear but I’ll soon be back to share it with you.”So she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his journey. His mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she, “Jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with my blessing, or the whole of ’em with my curse?”“O musha, mother,” says Jack, “why do you ax me that question? sure you know I wouldn’t have your curse and Damer’s estate along with it.”“Well, then, Jack,” says she, “here’s the whole lot of ’em with my thousand blessings along with them.” So she stood on the yard fence and blessed him as far as her eyes could see him.Well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne’er a farmer’s house he went into wanted a boy. At last his road led by the side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of grass he was striving to come at.“Ah, then, Jack asthore,” says he, “help me out or I’ll be drowned.”“Never say’t twice,” says Jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him.“Thank you, Jack,” says he, when he was out on the hard road; “I’ll do as much for you another time. Where are you going?”“Faith, I’m going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, God bless it!”“And if you like,” says the ass, “I’ll go along with you; who knows what luck we may have!”“With all my heart, it’s getting late, let us be jogging.”Well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. He ran up to Jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them.“More power to you, Jack,” says the dog.“I’m much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?”“We’re going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in.”“And wouldn’t I be proud to go with you!” says the dog, “and get rid of them ill conducted boys; purshuin’ to ’em.”“Well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along.”They got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and Jack pulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the ass made his dinner on a bunch of thistles. While they were eating and chatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and the moll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache.“You look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast,” saysJack; “here’s a bone and something on it.”“May your child never know a hungry belly!” says Tom; “it’s myself that’s in need of your kindness. May I be so bold as to ask where yez are all going?”“We’re going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in, and you may join us if you like.”“And that I’ll do with a heart and a half,” says the cat, “and thank’ee for asking me.”‘Off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were three times as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a field inside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fine black cock in his mouth.“Oh, you anointed villain!” says the ass, roaring like thunder.“At him, good dog!” says Jack, and the word wasn’t out of his mouth when Coley was in full sweep after the Red Dog. Reynard dropped his prize like a hot potato, and was off like shot, and the poor cock came back fluttering and trembling to Jack and his comrades.“O musha, naybours!” says he, “wasn’t it the height o’ luck that threw you in my way! Maybe I won’t remember your kindness if ever I find you in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?”“We’re going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you may join our party if you like, and sit on Neddy’s crupper when your legs and wings are tired.”Well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down they looked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight.“Well, well,” says Jack, “the worse luck now the better another time, and it’s only a summer night after all. We’ll go into the wood, and make our bed on the long grass.”No sooner said than done. Jack stretched himself on a bunch of dry grass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass’s warm lap, and the cock went to roost in the next tree.Well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cock took a notion of crowing.“Bother you, Black Cock!” says the ass: “you disturbed me from as nice a wisp of hay as ever I tasted. What’s the matter?”“It’s daybreak that’s the matter: don’t you see light yonder?”“I see a light indeed,” says Jack, “but it’s from a candle it’s coming, and not from the sun. As you’ve roused us we may as well go over, and ask for lodging.”So they all shook themselves, and went on through grass, and rocks, and briars, till they got down into a hollow, and there was the light coming through the shadow, and along with it came singing, and laughing, and cursing.“Easy, boys!” says Jack: “walk on your tippy toes till we see what sort of people we have to deal with.”So they crept near the window, and there they saw six robbers inside, with pistols, and blunderbushes, and cutlashes, sitting at a table, eating roast beef and pork, and drinking mulled beer, and wine, and whisky punch.“Wasn’t that a fine haul we made at the Lord of Dunlavin’s!” says one ugly-looking thief with his mouth full, “and it’s little we’d get only for the honest porter! here’s his purty health!”“The porter’s purty health!” cried out every one of them, and Jack bent his finger at his comrades.“Close your ranks, my men,” says he in a whisper, “and let every one mind the word of command.”So the ass put his fore-hoofs on the sill of the window, the dog got on the ass’s head, the cat on the dog’s head, and the cock on the cat’s head. Then Jack made a sign, and they all sung out like mad.“Hee-haw, hee-haw!” roared the ass; “bow-wow!” barked the dog; “meaw-meaw!” cried the cat; “cock-a-doodle-doo!” crowed the cock.“Level your pistols!” cried Jack, “and make smithereens of ’em. Don’t leave a mother’s son of ’em alive; present, fire!” With that they gave another halloo, and smashed every pane in the window. The robbers were frightened out of their lives. They blew out the candles, threw down the table, and skelped out at the back door as if they were in earnest, and never drew rein till they were in the very heart of the wood.Jack and his party got into the room, closed the shutters, lighted the candles, and ate and drank till hunger and thirst were gone. Then they lay down to rest;—Jack in the bed, the ass in the stable, the dog on the door-mat, the cat by the fire, and the cock on the perch.At first the robbers were very glad to find themselves safe in the thick wood, but they soon began to get vexed.“This damp grass is very different from our warm room,” says one.“I was obliged to drop a fine pig’s foot,” says another.“I didn’t get a tayspoonful of my last tumbler,” says another.“And all the Lord of Dunlavin’s gold and silver that we left behind!” says the last.“I think I’ll venture back,” says the captain, “and see if we can recover anything.”“That’s a good boy!” said they all, and away he went.The lights were all out, and so he groped his way to the fire, and there the cat flew in his face, and tore him with teeth and claws. He let a roar out of him, and made for the room door, to look for a candle inside. He trod on the dog’s tail, and if he did, he got the marks of his teeth in his arms, and legs, and thighs.“Thousand murders!” cried he; “I wish I was out of this unlucky house.”When he got to the street door, the cock dropped down upon him with his claws and bill, and what the cat and dog done to him was only a flay-bite to what he got from the cock.“Oh, tattheration to you all, you unfeeling vagabones!” says he, when he recovered his breath; and he staggered and spun round and round till he reeled into the stable, back foremost, but the ass received him with a kick on the broadest part of his small clothes, and laid him comfortably on the dunghill.When he came to himself, he scratched his head, and began to think what happened him; and as soon as he found that his legs were able to carry him, he crawled away, dragging one foot after another, till he reached the wood.“Well, well,” cried them all, when he came within hearing, “any chance of our property?”“You may say chance,” says he, “and it’s itself is the poor chance all out. Ah, will any of you pull a bed of dry grass for me? All the sticking-plaster in Enniscorthy will be too little for the cuts and bruises I have on me. Ah, if you only knew what I have gone through for you! When I got to the kitchen fire, looking for a sod of lighted turf, what should be there but an old woman carding flax, and you may see the marks she left on my face with the cards. I made to the room door as fast as I could, and who should I stumble over but a cobbler and his seat, and if he did not work at me with his awls and his pinchers you may call me a rogue. Well, I got away from him somehow, but when I was passing through the door, it must be the divel himself that pounced down on me with his claws, and his teeth, that were equal to sixpenny nails, and his wings—ill luck be in his road! Well, at last I reached the stable, and there, by way of salute, I got a pelt from a sledge-hammer that sent me half a mile off. If you don’t believe me, I’ll give you leave to go and judge for yourselves.”“Oh, my poor captain,” says they, “we believe you to the nines. Catch us, indeed, going within a hen’s race of that unlucky cabin!”Well, before the sun shook his doublet next morning, Jack and his comrades were up and about. They made a hearty breakfast on what was left the night before, and then they all agreed to set off to the castle of the Lord of Dunlavin, and give him back all his gold and silver. Jack put it all in the two ends of a sack and laid it across Neddy’s back, and all took the road in their hands. Away they went, through bogs, up hills, down dales, and sometimes along the yellow high road, till they came to the hall-door of the Lord of Dunlavin, and who should be there, airing his powdered head, his white stockings, and his red breeches, but the thief of a porter.He gave a cross look to the visitors, and says he to Jack, “What do you want here, my fine fellow? there isn’t room for you all.”“We want,” says Jack, “what I’m sure you haven’t to give us—and that is, common civility.”“Come, be off, you lazy strollers!” says he, “while a cat ‘ud be licking her ear, or I’ll let the dogs at you.”“Would you tell a body,” says the cock that was perched on the ass’s head, “who was it that opened the door for the robbers the other night?”Ah! maybe the porter’s red face didn’t turn the colour of his frill, and the Lord of Dunlavin and his pretty daughter, that were standing at the parlour window unknownst to the porter, put out their heads.“I’d be glad, Barney,” says the master, “to hear your answer to the gentleman with the red comb on him.”“Ah, my lord, don’t believe the rascal; sure I didn’t open the door to the six robbers.”“And how did you know there were six, you poor innocent?” said the lord.“Never mind, sir,” says Jack, “all your gold and silver is there in that sack, and I don’t think you will begrudge us our supper and bed after our long march from the wood of Athsalach.”“Begrudge, indeed! Not one of you will ever see a poor day if I can help it.”So all were welcomed to their heart’s content, and the ass and the dog and the cock got the best posts in the farmyard, and the cat took possession of the kitchen. The lord took Jack in hands, dressed him from top to toe in broadcloth, and frills as white as snow, and turnpumps, and put a watch in his fob. When they sat down to dinner, the lady of the house said Jack had the air of a born gentleman about him, and the lord said he’d make him his steward. Jack brought his mother, and settled her comfortably near the castle, and all were as happy as you please.
Once upon a time there was a man who was not rich, but by dint of hard work he had saved up a little sum. Every day when he went to his work, he said to his wife, —“Take care of this money. It is for the long time.”The woman, as soon as he was gone, would take pleasure in counting over the crowns and the sous. One day when she was alone in her house, counting her money as usual, a beggar came by and asked her for charity.“Alas! poor man,” said she, “we are very poor; I have nothing to give you.”“What!” said he, “and all those beautiful crowns and those sous that you have there! Could you not give me some of those for charity?”“I wish I could,” said the woman, “but we are keeping this for the long time.”“The long time?” said the beggar; “I am the long time.”“Ah! if you are the long time, that is another thing. Take some, take some.”The beggar, not at all ashamed, pocketed the whole sum, leaving not a farthing or a mite, and went away satisfied with his windfall, as you may imagine.The husband returned. “Long Time came,” said the wife, “and I gave him the money that we saved for him.”“Long Time? you miserable baggage!”“Yes; a poor man who told me that he was Long Time. I have given him all.”“Ah! poor dunce! you let him steal the savings from you. Come, there is nothing left for us to do, but take a wallet and go out ourselves and beg from village to village. Take your clothes and let us go forth.”The husband had nothing but what he had on, the wife not much more. He went in front, she followed.“Shut the door tight,” said the husband.“Did you say carry it?”“I said shut it.”“Shall I carry it?”“Yes, carry it.”“The obedient wife followed.” Illustration by E. Boyd Smith, published in Fairy Legends of the French Provinces by M. Carey (1903), T.Y. CrowellThe obedient wife took the door off the hinges, put it on her shoulders, and followed her husband towards the neighboring wood.Night came on. They heard the noise of a band of robbers, who were coming in their direction. “Let us climb up into a tree to hide,” said the husband.“What shall I do with the door?” asked his wife.“The door? Leave it there.”“Shall I take it up?”“Leave it there.”“Shall I take it up?”“Yes, take it up.”She climbed up after her husband into a large old spreading oak-tree, dragging the door after her. They were scarcely settled in the branches when the robbers arrived at the foot of the tree, made a halt, opened their provisions, lighted a fire, prepared their supper, counted the booty they had taken during the day, and then began to eat and drink.The wife, from the top branch, said in a low voice to her husband, —“The door is going to fall!”“Hold on to it, you miserable baggage, or we are lost.”“Shall I let it go?”“Hold on to it!”“Shall I let it go?”“Yes, let it go.”The woman let go the door, which tumbled with a great crash from branch to branch, and fell into the midst of the robbers and frightened them so that they ran away as fast as they could, for- getting all their plunder and never looking be- hind them.The husband and wife came down, picked up the jewels, the pieces of gold, and all the booty left by the robbers, and returned to their house, rich for the rest of their lives.
A long time ago a beautiful river, that ran through the Indian village of Taos, went dry; for no rain had fallen for months and months and months. There was no water anywhere to drink, except in one little spring; and that little spring belonged to a coyote.One morning a rabbit passed by the coyote’s spring. “Good-morning, Rabbit-man,” said the coyote, “how are you getting along this dry weather? You must get very thirsty.”“Oh no,” replied the rabbit, “I get along fine. I have plenty of water, for I drink the dew from the cabbage leaves.”“But suppose the drought takes all the dew from the cabbage leaves, then what will you do?”“I will find water somewhere else,” replied the rabbit; and he hopped away.Still there was no rain and everything was as dry as could be, except the coyote’s spring. The rabbit grew very thirsty; so four days later when the coyote was away from home, the rabbit went to the coyote’s spring and drank and drank the water. Later in the day the coyote met him: “Good day, Rabbit-man, how are you enjoying the dew from the cabbage leaves these days? Are you finding very much?” And the coyote threw back his head and laughed.“Oh, I am finding enough!”, and again the rabbit hopped away.The next day the rabbit waited until the coyote went out to hunt for his dinner, then he went to the spring and drank and drank.When the coyote came back home, he went to his spring for a drink. There was very little water left in it. “Who has been taking my water?”, he growled. And then he saw rabbit tracks around the spring.“So Rabbit-man has been stealing my water! That is why he is getting along so well this dry weather. I shall have to put an end to him.”So the coyote went out and found a piece of wood and cut out of it a baby animal. Then he got gum from the piñon trees and smeared it all over the baby. He put the gum baby beside the spring and hid himself in the bushes.Very soon the rabbit came along for a drink at the coyote’s spring. When he saw the gum baby, he bowed and said, “Hello, what are you doing here?” But the gum baby just sat still and said nothing. This made Mr. Rabbit angry.“I say ‘hello’, and if you don’t speak to me politely I’ll push you into the spring.”The gum baby did not say anything. Mr. Rabbit grew so angry that he grabbed the gum baby and pushed him into the water.But the gum on the baby made the rabbit stick hard and fast to him; and when he fell into the spring, Mr. Rabbit fell in, too, and got a good ducking that he did not soon forget.Author Note: Taos Pueblo
A lad named Jack was once so unhappy at home through his father’s ill- treatment, that he made up his mind to run away and seek his fortune in the wide world.He ran, and he ran, till he could run no longer, and then he ran right up against a little old woman who was gathering sticks. He was too much out of breath to beg pardon, but the woman was good-natured, and she said he seemed to be a likely lad, so she would take him to be her servant, and would pay him well. He agreed, for he was very hungry, and she brought him to her house in the wood, where he served her for a twelvemonths and a day.When the year had passed, she called him to her, and said she had good wages for him. So she presented him with an ass out of the stable, and he had but to pull Neddy’s ears to make him begin at once to ee—aw! And when he brayed there dropped from his mouth silver sixpences, and half crowns, and golden guineas.The lad was well pleased with the wage he had received, and away he rode till he reached an inn. There he ordered the best of everything, and when the innkeeper refused to serve him without being paid beforehand, the boy went off to the stable, pulled the ass’s ears and obtained his pocket full of money. The host had watched all this through a crack in the door, and when night came on he put an ass of his own for the precious Neddy of the poor youth. So Jack without knowing that any change had been made, rode away next morning to his father’s house.Now, I must tell you that near his home dwelt a poor widow with an only daughter. The lad and the maiden were fast friends and true loves; but when Jack asked his father’s leave to marry the girl, “Never till you have the money to keep her,” was the reply. “I have that, father,” said the lad, and going to the ass he pulled its long ears; well, he pulled, and he pulled, till one of them came off in his hands; but Neddy, though he hee-hawed and he hee-hawed let fall no half crowns or guineas. The father picked up a hay-fork and beat his son out of the house. I promise you he ran. Ah! he ran and ran till he came bang against the door, and burst it open, and there he was in a joiner’s shop. “You’re a likely lad,” said the joiner; “serve me for a twelvemonths and a day and I will pay you well.'” So he agreed, and served the carpenter for a year and a day. “Now,” said the master, “I will give you your wage;” and he presented him with a table, telling him he had but to say, “Table, be covered,” and at once it would be spread with lots to eat and drink.Jack hitched the table on his back, and away he went with it till he came to the inn. “Well, host,” shouted he, “my dinner to-day, and that of the best.”“Very sorry, but there is nothing in the house but ham and eggs.”“Ham and eggs for me!” exclaimed Jack. “I can do better than that.—Come, my table, be covered!”At once the table was spread with turkey and sausages, roast mutton, potatoes, and greens. The publican opened his eyes, but he said nothing, not he.That night he fetched down from his attic a table very like that of Jack, and exchanged the two. Jack, none the wiser, next morning hitched the worthless table on to his back and carried it home. “Now, father, may I marry my lass?” he asked.“Not unless you can keep her,” replied the father. “Look here!” exclaimed Jack. “Father, I have a table which does all my bidding.”“Let me see it,” said the old man.The lad set it in the middle of the room, and bade it be covered; but all in vain, the table remained bare. In a rage, the father caught the warming-pan down from the wall and warmed his son’s back with it so that the boy fled howling from the house, and ran and ran till he came to a river and tumbled in. A man picked him out and bade him assist him in making a bridge over the river; and how do you think he was doing it? Why, by casting a tree across; so Jack climbed up to the top of the tree and threw his weight on it, so that when the man had rooted the tree up, Jack and the tree-head dropped on the farther bank.“Thank you,” said the man; “and now for what you have done I will pay you;” so saying, he tore a branch from the tree, and fettled it up into a club with his knife. “There,” exclaimed he; “take this stick, and when you say to it, ‘Up stick and bang him,’ it will knock any one down who angers you.”The lad was overjoyed to get this stick—so away he went with it to the inn, and as soon as the publican, appeared, “Up stick and bang him!” was his cry. At the word the cudgel flew from his hand and battered the old publican on the back, rapped his head, bruised his arms tickled his ribs, till he fell groaning on the floor; still the stick belaboured the prostrate man, nor would Jack call it off till he had got back the stolen ass and table. Then he galloped home on the ass, with the table on his shoulders, and the stick in his hand. When he arrived there he found his father was dead, so he brought his ass into the stable, and pulled its ears till he had filled the manger with money.It was soon known through the town that Jack had returned rolling in wealth, and accordingly all the girls in the place set their caps at him. “Now,” said Jack, “I shall marry the richest lass in the place; so tomorrow do you all come in front of my house with your money in your aprons.”Next morning the street was full of girls with aprons held out, and gold and silver in them; but Jack’s own sweetheart was among them, and she had neither gold nor silver, nought but two copper pennies, that was all she had.“Stand aside, lass;” said Jack to her, speaking roughly. “Thou hast no silver nor gold—stand off from the rest.” She obeyed, and the tears ran down her cheeks, and filled her apron with diamonds.“Up stick and bang them!” exclaimed Jack; whereupon the cudgel leaped up, and running along the line of girls, knocked them all on the heads and left them senseless on the pavement. Jack took all their money and poured it into his truelove’s lap. “Now, lass,” he exclaimed, “thou art the richest, and I shall marry thee.”
A certain wood-chopper lost or brokeFrom his axe’s eye a bit of oak.The forest must needs be somewhat sparedWhile such a loss was being repair’d.Came the man at last, and humbly pray’dThat the woods would kindly lend to him—A moderate loan—a single limb,Whereof might another helve be made,And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade.O, the oaks and firs that then might stand,A pride and a joy throughout the land,For their ancientness and glorious charms!The innocent Forest lent him arms;But bitter indeed was her regret;For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet,Did nought but his benefactress spoilOf the finest trees that graced her soil;And ceaselessly was she made to groan,Doing penance for that fatal loan.Behold the world-stage and its actors,Where benefits hurt benefactors!—A weary theme, and full of pain;For where’s the shade so cool and sweet,Protecting strangers from the heat,But might of such a wrong complain?Alas! I vex myself in vain;Ingratitude, do what I will,Is sure to be the fashion still.
A BROTHER and sister lived together. The brother loved his sister so well that he did not want her to work; he did all the work himself. Each morning when he was starting off to hunt he said to her. “You mustn’t go out,” and he fastened the door. When he came home in the evening he cooked and after they had eaten he said to his sister, “Lie down and sleep, I am going to a council.”The sister never knew when her brother came home, but when she wakened in the morning he was cooking. The girl didn’t like to be fastened in, she said nothing, but all the time she was thinking how she could get out of the house.At last a night came when her brother started off forgetting to fasten the door, then she determined to follow, him to the council. She found his tracks and after following them a long distance came to a house; she pushed the skin door aside and went in.An old man sat by a fire making a wooden ladle. He looked up, and said, “Thank you, my niece, I have waited a long time for you to come. ”“I have come to get you to do something for me,” said the girl.“I expected that you would ask me to do something for you. There they are, take your choice,” and he pointed to a pile of ladles.“It isn’t a ladle that I want.”“What is it then? Any one who wishes for something asks for it.”“I want you to destroy my brother. He keeps me fastened into the house.”“I can’t do that; your brother has great power. Perhaps my brother who lives near here can; he has greater power than I have.”The girl went on. She soon came to an opening and in the opening was a house. She went to the house and looking through a crack saw an old man making bark bowls.“Come in!” called the old man. “I have been expecting you.”“I have come to get you to do something for me,” said the girl.“There they are, take your choice,” said the old man pointing to a pile of bowls.“I don’t want a bowl.”“What do you want?”“I want you to destroy my brother.”“I can’t destroy him, but I can make him go a long way off.”“Do that,” said the girl.“This is what you must do,” said the old man. “When you get home begin to help about the cooking. To-morrow morning, just as the sun comes up, look toward the South till you see me. I shall come in the form of a white turkey. When you see me, call to your brother, ‘Oh, catch that turkey! I want it for a pet.’ He will say, ‘I have never heard of any one’s having a turkey for a pet.’ Then say, ‘Kill it for me.’ Stand just back of the door and as he draws to shoot push the door, hit the arrow and make it glance off, then your brother’s courage will appear, he will say, ‘I have never been outrun,’ and he will chase me.”The next morning the girl insisted on helping her brother cook. Just at sunrise she saw a turkey coming from the South. When it was near the cabin she called out, “Oh, brother, catch that white turkey! I want it for a pet.”“Who ever heard of having a turkey for a pet?” asked he.“Well, kill it for me.”The man fixed an arrow in his bow and as he let it fly, the girl shut the door so quickly that it hit the arrow and sent it away from the turkey–then off ran the man to catch the bird.The two ran till midday, the turkey always a little ahead. Then the turkey called out, “Let us rest. Mark where you stop and I will mark where I stop.” After resting a while they started again and ran till dark, then the turkey called out, “Let us rest till morning.”The man lay down at the foot of a tree; the turkey roosted in a hemlock not far away. Early the next morning they started; rested at midday, and when the sun went down they stopped for the night.For ten days they ran, then the man began to gain on the turkey. The eleventh day they were running along the edge of a precipice when the turkey turned, ran around the man and pushed him over the cliff saying “This is the kind of man I am, I cannot be overcome.”At the bottom of the cliff was a swift river. The man struck the water and floated down till he came to a fish dam made by the women of the river. He lodged in the dam. Soon two girls came to the river to see if they had caught many fish. One said to the other, “Look! there is a dead man in the dam. Run and tell mother to come!”The old woman came and the three pulled the man out of the water. On each side of this man’s body was the mark of a wolf.“It is the Wolf-Marked man,” said the mother. “He has never been overpowered before.”They carried the man to the house and began to work over him; in a short time he opened his eyes, but he could not speak. By motions he made the girls understand that he wanted to smoke. One of the girls looked around for a pipe, then he motioned for his pouch. She found a pipe in the pouch and was about to light it when he motioned her to give it to him. He put the pipe between his lips and drawing twice or three times lighted it.The smoke gave him strength and soon he said, “Hang skin blankets around me.”The old woman said, “From now on you will be my son, and these girls will be your sisters.”The women took great care of Wolf-Marked, and he was soon as well as ever.One day steps were heard outside, the door was kicked open and a man came in. “I’ve come to give you some pudding, said he, as he threw down a lot of nasty bark. He went off and the women swept out the bark.“Have you a bow and arrows?” asked Wolf-Marked.The old woman gave him a bow and arrows. He dusted the bow and straightened the arrows, then stringing an arrow and saying to it, “Go and kill a bear,” he shot it through the smoke hole. Soon a noise was heard outside. The women went to the door and found a bear lying dead on the ground. They skinned it and cutting up the meat put it where it would dry.The next morning a man kicked the door open and was about to throw down a bundle of nasty bark when he saw the meat, and, knowing there must be a man around, he turned and ran off. Soon afterward Wolf-Marked said, “A man is coming to visit me. When he gets here let him come inside the skin blankets.”–He had always stayed behind the blankets the women hung up when he first came.The next morning when the dew was getting off the grass, the women saw a man coming; he was unkempt and shabby. When he reached the house, the mother told him to go behind the skins. The women heard the two men talking; toward night Shabby Man came out and went away.In a few days the same man came again. This time he brought news: the chief’s daughters were to marry but their husbands must be men who possessed powerful spirits. Spirits that could take any form they liked, walk around a fire and scatter wampum beads.“Will you try?” asked Shabby Man.“No,” said Wolf-Marked.That night Shabby Man went to the chief’s house. All the powerful men were there. When they saw Shabby Man they pushed him out, but he looked through a crack and saw what was going on.The power of the first man who tried was in a fisher pouch. He called the pouch to life and sent it around the fire. It went half way, then dropped down, a pouch again.The second man’s power was in a mink pouch. The pouch became a live mink, took wampum beads from a nearby pile and scattered them till a little more than half way around the fire, then the mink dropped down, a pouch again. Each man tried his power, but the power died before it got around the fire.After a while, the chief said to the people, “Go home now, but come again to-morrow night.”The next day Shabby Man urged Wolf-Marked to go to the chief’s house and try his power. At last Wolf-Marked said, “I will go to-morrow night.”Shabby Man went to the chief’s house. Again he was thrown out and again he looked in through a crack. The men cheered one another; Shabby Man cheered too. Soon he saw that as each man tried, all of the others blew against his power to prevent its getting around the fire; Shabby Man blew too.After a while the chief said, “Go home now; we will try again to-morrow.That night when Wolf-Marked was walking around outside thinking what he could use to show his power, he heard a noise and then a voice said to him in a whisper, “I have come to help you. Here is a pouch. You will find another pouch inside of this one. Your friend will use the mud turtle pouch; the fawn pouch is yours, but you must not go to the chief’s house. Let the old woman and Shabby Man go. Inside the pouches are little pieces of medicine for the woman and Shabby Man to put in their mouths when they blow. When they are in the chief’s house they must sit side by side. The woman will take the mud turtle pouch, shake it till it grows large and comes to life, then Shabby Man will set it down and tell it to go around the fire and not to let anything stop it. When the turtle gets around, the woman must put thefawn pouch down, bring it to life and tell it to go around the fire. When the turtle and fawn have won Shabby Man must take one of the chief’s daughters and go to his own home; the other daughter must come to you.Wolf-Marked took the pouches and thanked his friend.The next morning, just at daylight, Shabby Man came and asked, “Are you ready?”“I am ready,” answered Wolf-Marked.“Well, let us try our power and see if we are going to succeed.”“We will succeed,” said Wolf-Marked.“Let us try so as to get used to doing it,” urged Shabby Man.“There is no need of trying,” said the other.Shabby Man urged a long time, then he went off but he soon came back and began again, urged till he was tired, went off and again came back to tease Wolf-Marked to try his power. All day he kept going and coming back to urge again. At dark he said, “We must start now or we will not get seats.”“Wait a while,” answered his friend. “They will give us seats when we get there.”After dark Wolf -Marked said to the old woman, “Mother, I want you to go with this man to the chief’s house.”Shabby Man was disappointed. “Won’t you go?” asked he.“No, my mother will go in my place.”“You had better go, we may fail.”“You will not fail,” said Wolf-Marked.On the road Shabby Man said, “Let us hurry!” And he went ahead and waited. When the woman overtook him, he again urged her to walk fast. At last they were there.When the people saw Shabby Man and the woman they wanted to throw them out, but the chief said, “Let them stay.”When Shabby Man’s turn came he put the piece of medicine in his mouth; the woman put down the turtle Pouch and urged the turtle on. The people began to call for a close of the meeting. Shabby Man insisted on trying and said, “O chief, give us a chance!”The chief said to the people, “Sit down and give them a chance.”They did all they could to obstruct the turtle, but it came around to the starting point. Shabby Man picked it up and gave it to the woman. She shook it and made it small. It was again a pouch.Shabby Man got up and took his place by the chief’s daughter.The people said, “Now we will go home,” but the woman insisted on having a chance. They got up to go, but she cried at the top of her voice, “Come back, and let me try. If I succeed I have some one to marry the chief’s daughter.”The chief said, “Sit down and let the woman try.”She got the fawn skin pouch out and shook it. It became a live fawn. She put it down and told it to run around the fire. It was around in a flash.The chief said, “This is the end. What I required has been accomplished.”Everyone went home, with Shabby Man went the chief’s elder daughter.The next morning men came to Wolf-Marked, and said,The chief has sent for you to come and claim his daughter.”“She must come to me,” said the young man, “and Shabby Man and his wife must come too.”The three came, and Wolf-Marked was the husband of the chief’s younger daughter.The men hunted and killed plenty of game; the women took care of the skins, and cooked. Some time passed. The men of the village were jealous of Wolf-Marked and they plotted against him. They put up a long pole, and said, “Whoever can lodge a ball on the top of the pole will win, we have a man who can do it. We will challenge Wolf-Marked and he will lose. The wager will be seven heads.”As the woman and her daughters sat in the house, they saw a man coming on a run; the door flew open and in he came. When he saw Wolf-Marked he said, “I have come to challenge you to lodge a ball on the top of a pole, the wager is seven heads on each side.”“Very well,” said Wolf-Marked. “That is the game amuse myself with.” When the runner left, the old woman began to cry and lament. “Don’t cry,” said Wolf-Marked. “Nothing will happen to us.” She only cried the harder, and wailed that he would surely lose, and then the seven members of the family would be destroyed. But after a time he was able to quiet her.That night when Wolf-Marked was standing outside and thinking about the challenge, thinking that maybe he would lose, he heard a whisper and a voice said, “When you were challenged you said, ‘That is the game I amuse myself with.’ This will come true. Don’t use, their ball and don’t begin the game. Here is the ball you are to use, and here is a piece of medicine for you to put in your mouth when you go to the place; with it in your mouth blow against their ball.”The next morning, when it was time to go, Shabby Man said, “I am sick, I can’t go. Couldn’t you bet three against three, the old woman and her two daughters on our side?”“No,” said Wolf-Marked, “We have agreed seven against seven. We must all go.”When they reached the place, they saw a long pole standing in the center of an opening. Seven men were standing near the pole; they were the wager on the chief’s side. Now Wolf-Marked and his wife, the mother and her two daughters and Shabby Man and his wife stood together as the wager on Wolf-Marked’s side. Stuck into the pole was a great flint knife with which to cut off their heads.The chief asked Wolf-Marked to begin the game. When he refused a man on the chief’s side picked up the ball, rubbed it a long time, then threw it into the air. It came down, hit the top of the pole and bounded back and went up again. Wolf-Marked was blowing against it, and he had the medicine in his mouth. At last he said in his mind, “Let the ball fall.” It came to the ground, then the chief gave it to Wolf-Marked, and said, “Now it is Your turn.”“I have a ball of my own,” said Wolf-Marked, and he refused to take the chief’s ball. He said to his own ball, “Be faithful. Don’t fall, stick to the pole.”He rubbed the ball in his hands, then threw it up, the whiz was heard, and right away the ball was out of sight, After a long time they heard it strike the sky, and it made a pleasant sound, a sound that was heard by all of the people in the world. It came down, hit the pole and bounded back to the sky. Three times it went to the sky, The third time it hit, the sound was very faint. Many times it went up, but a little lower every time.Each man on the chief’s side was wishing with all his power that the ball would fall to the ground. The seven of Wolf-Marked’s party were wishing it to stay on the pole. There was great excitement.The ball struck the top of the pole and stayed there.“You have won the game,” said the chief.“That is what I expected. I knew that we would win,” said Shabby Man. And straightway he cut off the seven heads, the chief’s wager.Wolf-Marked and his friends went home and were happy, but the men of the village were still plotting. After a good deal of talk one of the men said, “This is what we will do: I am the swiftest runner in the world. I have never been beaten. Challenge Wolf-Marked to run a race with me. We will run around the lake, and the wager will be seven heads.”A man went to Wolf-Marked and notified him of the race and its conditions.“That is the game I like best,” said he. “I have never been beaten; I can outrun anyone.”When the old woman heard of the challenge, she cried and lamented.“Stop crying,” said Wolf-Marked. “Nothing will happen to us.”When everyone in the house was asleep, Wolf-Marked went outside and stood thinking what he could do to win. All at once he heard a whisper and a voice said, “Come here!”He went toward the voice and listened, soon the voice said, “You are going to run a race. You said that you liked the game; you will not be disappointed this time. When the runner finds that you are winning, he will throw back a buffalo horn. It will stick in your foot, pull it out and throw it at him as hard as you can. You will win.”The next morning Wolf-Marked said to his family, “Get ready!”“I am sick,” said Shabby Man, “I can’t go.”“You must go,” said Wolf-Marked. “The wager is seven heads, we must all be there.”When they reached the place, they saw a crowd of people, and seven men standing a little to one side; they were the chief’s wager.The chief said, “Each runner must take hold of a long pole and run against that hickory tree over there, bend the tree down drawing the pole across it. When the pole comes off from the top and the tree springs back, drop the pole and run.” The pole was of red willow.The runners started exactly at midday, the chief’s runner holding one end of the pole, Wolf-Marked the other. They had to pull hard to bend the tree over. Just as they got the pole near the top, the chief’s runner let go of his end and Wolf-Marked was thrown far back beyond the crowd of people. He sprang up and saying, “I have never been beaten!” he gave a whoop and ran. His opponent was out of sight. People shouted with joy.Shabby Man rolled on the ground, and cried, “Oh, we are beaten! We are beaten! If he had only said that the wager would be one head, and that his own!”When Wolf-Marked got out of sight, he called a mole, and said, “You see that man running. Get ahead of him!”Wolf-Marked went into the mole; the mole went under the ground and came out ahead of the runner, who wasn’t going very fast for he thought Wolf-Marked was far behind.After a while he saw a track and thought, “Can he be ahead?” then he ran swiftly, but didn’t see anyone. Looking again at the tracks he said in his mind, “He is ahead!” and taking a buffalo horn out of his pouch he told it to go to the young man and stick in his foot; and he threw it. The horn overtook Wolf-Marked and as one of his feet came up it went into it, and he fell to the ground. He tried to pull the horn out, but couldn’t. As the chief’s runner passed he called out, “Get up! I never before saw a man sit down when he was running a race.”Just then Wolf-Marked’s whispering friend said to him, “Pull the horn out, throw it, and say, ‘Go fast and enter the runner’s foot so deep that he can’t get you out.'”Wolf-Marked threw the horn and ran on. He hadn’t gone far when he saw his opponent sitting on the ground trying to get the horn out of his foot. “Stop and help me,” begged he.“I didn’t say that when you sent the horn into my foot, said Wolf-Marked, and he ran on.All the people were watching to see which runner was ahead. The chief’s party said, “We might as well begin to cut off those heads, we will cut off six, then take Wolf-Marked’s when he comes.”A man seized a flint knife and ran to Shabby Man, but the chief called to him, “Wait till the runners get here.”At last they saw one runner, then the crowd shouted, “Our man is coming! Our man is coming!”When the runner came a little nearer, people began to feel uneasy; they were not quite sure that it was their man–then they saw that it was Wolf-Marked.Shabby Man looked up, he had been sitting with his head down, thinking that right away be was going to lose his life. Then he called out, “Just as I told you! I knew Wolf-Marked would win.”When the runner came near, he called to his friend, “Why don’t you take the wager?”Up jumped Shabby Man, and soon seven heads were lying on the ground.Twin boys were born to Wolf-Marked and they were marked exactly as he was. When the first one was born, the father picked him up and threw him over the skin enclosure where he himself had stayed when he first came to the old woman’s cabin, and as he threw the child, he said, “This, my first son, must grow to be a powerful man.” When the second child was born, he threw it over the enclosure, and said, “This, my second son must grow to be a powerful man.”Nobody paid any attention to the children. After time talking was heard, then a voice said, “Father, we wan t a club and a ball to play with.”Wolf-Marked threw in a ball and a club. Some days passed, then one of the boys called out, “Father, we are tired of the club and ball, we want a bow and arrows.He gave them a bow and made them red willow arrows.For a time they were satisfied, then one called out, “Father we want to go for our aunt!”“Very well. When you start go in the direction the sun goes, and don’t let anything stop you.”The boys started. They went through a wide valley and climbed a hill at the end of the valley. They were walking along quietly when the younger brother called out, “Stop brother, and look at this.”“No,” answered the elder brother, “our father told us not to stop.”The younger brother thought, “Yes, our father told us not to let anything stop us,” and he hurried on.They had traveled a number of days when the younger boy asked, “Brother, what would frighten you most?”“Our father told us not to be frightened by anything,” answered the elder boy. “What would you be afraid of?”“Of Big Head (Whirlwind).”That minute the boys heard a great noise. From the southwest came a terrible roar. The elder brother kept on; the younger was frightened, but when Big Head was near he said to himself, “I won’t be afraid.”That minute the roar and wind ceased.At last the brothers came to a trail and saw foot-prints all going in one direction. The trail ran north and south, the foot-prints pointed north, some were very large, others were small.The elder brother glanced at the tracks and went on, the Younger stopped and looking at the tracks said, “Let us follow them and find out what is going on.”“Our father told us not to stop,” answered his brother.“It won’t take long; we can come right back,” urged the Younger. The elder brother yielded and they followed the foot-prints; they had not gone far when a man of enormous size came along, seized the boys and, tucking one under each arm, walked off. Soon he came to a village and going into a hut at the edge of it said to men sitting around, “I have brought game. We will notify the: people.”The boys were taken to the long house in the center of the village. Two large kettles were brought and made ready. As people came in they went up and looked the game over. When the chief came, he looked also, but what he saw frightened him. Right away he said, “Free these boys; they are the sons of the Wolf-Marked Man. If we harm them he will destroy us; he is the most powerful man in the world.”The people of this village were all Frost (or Ice) people.They liberated the boys and the two traveled on till they came to a beautiful country.“I think that our aunt is near here,” said the younger boy.“Oh, no,” said the elder, “she must be far away yet.”The younger brother insisted that his aunt was near and he began to look around. The elder stopped and watched him.The boy came to a hollow tree and in the opening saw the body of a woman.“Come here, brother,” called he, “I have found our aunt.”He struck the woman with his arrow; she didn’t move, then he struck her twice with his bow, and said, “Your brother has sent for you.”The woman moved and roused up a little; her face was covered with scabs and sores and she was frightful to look at. The younger boy rubbed her with saliva; the scabs fell off, and she was well. Then the boys saw that she was a fine-looking woman.“Now we will go home,” said the younger brother, and the three started.Wolf-Marked had forgiven his sister for trying to destroy him; be was glad to see her. After this they all lived together happily.
A number of flies were attracted to a jar of honey which had been overturned in a housekeeper’s room, and placing their feet in it, ate greedily. Their feet, however, became so smeared with the honey that they could not use their wings, nor release themselves, and were suffocated. Just as they were expiring, they exclaimed, “O foolish creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves.”Pleasure bought with pains, hurts.
Once upon a time there was a king who went forth into the world and fetched back a beautiful queen. And after they had been married a while God gave them a little daughter. Then there was great rejoicing in the city and throughout the country, for the people wished their king all that was good, since he was kind and just. While the child lay in its cradle, a strange-looking old woman entered the room, and no one knew who she was nor whence she came. The old woman spoke a verse over the child, and said that she must not be allowed out under the open sky until she were full fifteen years of age, since otherwise the mountain troll would fetch her. When the king heard this he took her words to heart, and posted guards to watch over the little princess so that she would not get out under the open sky.Some time afterward God gave the royal pair another little daughter, and again the whole kingdom rejoiced. But the wise old woman once more put in an appearance, and warned the king not to let the princess out under the open sky until she were full fifteen years of age. And then, after a time, God gave the royal pair a third daughter. This time, too, the old woman appeared, and repeated what she had already twice said. Then the king was much grieved; for he loved his children above everything in the world. Therefore he gave strict orders that the three princesses were always to be kept beneath the roof of the castle, and that none were to dare transgress against this command.Now a long time passed, and the king’s daughters grew up and became the most beautiful maidens of whom one has ever heard tell. Then war broke out and the king, their father, had to leave them. One day, while he was away at war, the three princesses were sitting in the window and looking out, watching the sun shine on the little flowers in the garden. And they felt a great desire to play with the lovely flowers, and begged their guards to let them go into the garden for a little while. But this their guards would not allow, for they feared the king’s anger. Yet the king’s daughters pleaded so very sweetly that they could not deny their pleas and they let them have their way. But the princesses did not have long to walk about, for no sooner were they beneath the open sky, than a cloud came suddenly down, and bore them off, and all attempts to regain possession of them were fruitless; though search was made in every direction.Then the whole kingdom mourned and grieved, and one may imagine that the king was anything but happy when he returned home and learned all that had happened. Yet what is done cannot be undone, and in the end they had to resign themselves to it. And since the king knew of no other way to help himself, he had proclaimed throughout the kingdom that whoever would deliver his three daughters out of the power of the mountain troll should have one of them for his bride, and with her half of the kingdom. When this became known in foreign lands, many youths set forth with horses and followers to seek the princesses. At the king’s court were two princes who also went forth to see whether fortune would be kind to them. They armed themselves in the best possible way with coats of mail and costly weapons, and bragged and boasted that they would not return without having done what they set out to do.And now we will let the king’s sons ride out over the world on their quest, while we turn to other people. Far, far out in the wild wood there lived a poor widow, who had an only son who drove his mother’s pigs to pasture every day. And as he crossed the fields, he whittled himself a flute, and amused himself playing it. And he played so sweetly that he warmed the cockles of the hearts of all those who heard him.“The old man had a large, powerful dog with him.” Illustration by unknown illustrator, used under Creative Commons.Now it chanced that the young swine-herd once sat in the wood blowing his flute, while his three pigs were digging under the pine-roots. And an old, old man came along, with a beard so long and so broad that it hung far below his girdle. The old man had a large, powerful dog with him. When the youth saw the great dog, he thought to himself: “If a fellow had a dog like that to keep him company here in the wilderness, he might consider himself lucky.” And when the old man noticed this, he began: “That is why I have come, for I want to exchange my dog for one of your pigs.” The youth was at once willing, and closed the bargain. He received the great dog, and gave up the gray pig in place of it. Then the old man went his way. But as he left he said: “You have reason to be satisfied with our exchange, for that dog is not like other dogs. His name is ‘Take Hold!’ and whatever you tell him to take hold of he will seize, even though it were the grimmest of trolls.” Thereupon they parted, and the youth thought that fortune had indeed favored him.In the evening he called his dog and drove his pigs home. But when his old mother heard that he had given away the gray pig for a dog, she was angry beyond measure, and gave her son a good drubbing. The youth told her to calm herself; but all in vain, the longer it lasted the more furious she became. Then, since he did not know what else to do, he called out to his dog: “Take hold!” At once the dog ran up, seized the old mother and held her so tightly that she could not move. But otherwise he did her no harm. And now she had to promise her son to make the best of the matter, and then they were friends once more.The following day the youth went to the wood again, with his dog and the two pigs. After a time he sat down and played his flute as usual, and the dog danced to his playing with such skill, that it was nothing short of a miracle. And as he was sitting there, the old man with the gray beard came out of the wood again, and with him another dog, no smaller than the first. When the youth saw the handsome beast he thought to himself: “If a fellow had that dog to keep him company here where it is so lonely, he need have no fear.” When the old man noticed this, he began: “That is why I have come, for I want to exchange my dog for one of your pigs.” The youth did not lose any time, but agreed to close the bargain. He received the great dog, and gave up one of his pigs in place of it. Then the old man went his way. Yet before he left he added: “You have reason to be well satisfied with your purchase, for this dog is not like the other dogs. His name is ‘Tear!’ and if you give him something to tear, he will tear it to pieces, even though it were the grimmest of trolls.” Then they parted. But the youth was happy in the idea that he had made a capital exchange; although he knew that his old mother would not be content with it. And when evening came, and the youth went home, his old mother was no less angry than she had been before. But this time she did not venture to beat her son, because she was afraid of the great dogs. Yet, as is usual, when women have scolded long enough, they stop of their own accord—and that is what happened in this case. The youth and his mother made peace with each other; though the mother thought to herself that the damage done could not well be repaired.On the third day the youth went into the wood again with his pig and two dogs. He felt very happy, seated himself on a tree-stump and played his flute as usual. And the dogs danced to his playing with such skill that it was a pleasure to watch them. As the youth was sitting there in peace and quiet, the old gray-beard once more came out of the wood. This time he had a third dog with him, who was as large as both the others together. When the youth saw the handsome animal he could not help but think: “If a fellow had this dog to keep him company in the wilderness, he would have no cause for complaint.” The old man at once began: “That is why I have come, in order to sell my dog, for I can see you would like to have him.” The youth was at once willing and agreed to close the bargain. So he received the great dog and gave up his last pig in place of it. Then the old man went his way. Yet before he went he said: “You will be satisfied with your exchange, for this dog is not like other dogs. His name is ‘Hark!’ and his hearing is so keen that he hears everything that happens, though it be happening many miles away. He even hears the grass and the trees grow.” Then they parted in the friendliest spirit. But the youth was happy in the thought that now he need fear nothing in the world. And then, when evening came on, and the swine-herd went home, his mother was very sad to think that her son had sold all they possessed. But the youth told her to be of good courage, since he would see to it that they did not suffer want. And when he spoke to her in such a cheerful manner, she grew content again, and decided that he had spoken in wise and manly fashion. Then when day dawned the youth went hunting with his dogs, and came back at evening with as much game as he could possibly carry. And he continued to go hunting in this way for a time until his old mother’s store-room was well provided with meat and all sorts of good things. Then he bade his mother a fond farewell, called his dogs, and said he was going to wander out into the world and try his fortune.And he fared forth over mountains and tangled ways, and came into the heart of a sombre forest. There he met the gray-beard of whom I have already told you. And when he met him the youth was much pleased, and said: “Good-day, grandfather, and thanks for the last time!” And the old man replied: “Good-day to you, and whither away?” The youth answered: “I am wandering out into the world to see what fortune has in store for me.” Then the old man said: “Keep right on going till you come to the royal castle, and there your fortune will take a turn.” And with that they parted. The youth followed the old man’s advice and for a time wandered on straight ahead. When he came to a tavern he played his flute and let his dogs dance, and was never at a lack for bed and board, and whatever else he might want.After he had wandered long and far, he at length came to a great city, whose streets were filled with people. The youth wondered what it all meant, and at last reached the spot where, to the sound of bell, the king’s proclamation was being cried—that whoever should deliver the three princesses out of the power of the troll, would receive one of them, and half the kingdom as well. Now he understood what the old man had meant. He called his dogs, and went to the king’s castle. But there all had been grief and mourning since the day the king’s daughters had disappeared. And of them all the king and queen were the most sorrowful. Then the youth went to the keeper of the door, and asked him whether he might play and show his dogs before the king. The courtiers were willing, for they hoped it might make him feel more cheerful. So he was admitted and allowed to show his tricks. And when the king had heard him play, and had seen the skillful dancing of his dogs, he grew quite merry, and none had seen him as happy during all the seven long years that had passed since he had lost his daughters.When the dance was over, the king asked the youth what he asked as a reward for having given him such a pleasure. The youth answered: “My lord king, I did not come to you to win gold and gear. But I have another request to make: that you allow me to set out and search for your three daughters, carried away by a mountain troll.” When the king heard this his thoughts once more grew gloomy, and he replied: “You need not even think of delivering my daughters. It is no child’s play, and your betters have already attempted it in vain. Yet should it really come to pass that you deliver one of the princesses, you may be sure that I will not break my word.” So he took leave of the king and set forth. And he decided to take no rest until he had found what he sought.Now he passed through many broad kingdoms without meeting with any special adventures. And wherever he went his dogs followed him. “Hark!” ran along and listened for anything worth hearing to be heard around them; “Take Hold!” carried his master’s knapsack and “Tear!” who was the strongest, carried his master when the latter was weary. One day “Hark!” came running up hastily, and told his master that he had gone to a high mountain, and had heard the king’s daughter, who sat within it and span, and that the troll was not at home. This greatly pleased the youth, and he hurried toward the mountain together with his three dogs. When they got there “Hark!” said: “There is no time to lose. The troll is only ten miles away, and I can already hear the golden horse-shoes of his steed ringing on the stones.” The youth now ordered his dogs to break down the door into the mountain, and they did. And as he stepped into the mountain he saw a lovely maiden, sitting in the mountain-hall, winding a golden thread on a golden spindle. The youth went up and greeted the lovely girl. Then the king’s daughter was much surprised and said: “Who are you that dare to venture into the giant’s hall? During all the seven long years I have been sitting here in the mountain I have never yet seen a human being.” And she added: “For heaven’s sake hasten away before the troll returns home, or else your life will be forfeit!” But the youth was unafraid, and said that he would await the giant’s return without fear.While they were talking together, the giant came riding along on his colt shod with gold. When he saw the gate standing open he grew furiously angry and shouted till the whole mountain shook: “Who has broken my mountain door?” The youth boldly answered: “I did, and now I shall break you as well! ‘Take Hold!’ seize him! ‘Tear!’ and ‘Hark!’ tear him into a thousand pieces.” No sooner had he spoken than the dogs rushed up, fell upon the giant and tore him into countless pieces. Then the princess was happy beyond measure and said: “God be praised, now I am freed!” And she fell upon the youth’s neck and gave him a kiss. But he did not wish to stay there any longer, saddled the giant’s colt, loaded it with all the gold and gear he found in the mountain, and hastily went away with the king’s beautiful daughter.They passed on together a long distance. Then, one day, “Hark!” who always ran ahead scouting, came quickly back to his master, and told him he had been near a high mountain, and had heard the king’s second daughter sitting within it winding golden yarn, and that the troll himself was not at home. This was very welcome news for the youth, and he hurried toward the mountain with his faithful dogs. Now when they drew near “Hark!” said: “There is no time to lose. The giant is only eight miles away, and I can already hear the golden horse-shoes of his steed ringing on the stones.” The youth at once ordered his dogs to break down the door into the mountain, no matter which way. And when he stepped into the interior of the mountain he saw a lovely maiden sitting in the mountain hall, winding golden yarn on a golden windle. The youth went up and greeted the lovely girl. The king’s daughter was much surprised and said: “Who are you that dare to venture into the giant’s hall? During all the seven years I have been sitting here in the mountain I have never yet seen a human being.” And she added: “For heaven’s sake, hasten away, for if the troll comes your life will be forfeit!” But the youth told her why he had come, and said that he would await the troll’s return quite undisturbed.While they were still talking together, the giant came riding on his steed shod with gold, and drew up outside the mountain. When he noticed that the great door was open, he grew furiously angry, and shouted till the mountain trembled to its very roots. He said: “Who has broken my mountain door?” The youth boldly answered: “I have, and now I shall break you as well! ‘Take Hold,’ seize him! ‘Tear!’ and ‘Hark!’ tear him into a thousand pieces!” The dogs at once rushed up, threw themselves upon the giant, and tore him into as many pieces as leaves fall in the autumn. Then the king’s daughter was happy beyond measure and cried: “God be praised, now I am freed!” and she fell upon the youth’s neck and gave him a kiss. But he led the princess to her sister, and one can imagine-how glad they were to see each other again. Then the youth packed up all the treasures he found in the mountain hall, loaded them on the giant’s steed, and went his way with the king’s two daughters. And they wandered along for a long time. Then, one day, “Hark!” who always ran ahead scouting, came hastily to his master and told him that he had been near a high mountain, and had heard the king’s third daughter sitting within and weaving a web of gold, and that the troll was not at home. This was very welcome news for the youth, and he hastened toward the mountain, followed by his three dogs. When he drew near “Hark!” said: “There is no time to lose, for the giant is only five miles away. I can already hear the golden horse-shoes of his steed ringing on the stones.” Then the youth at once ordered his dogs to break down the door into the mountain, by hook or by crook. And when he stepped into the mountain, he saw a girl sitting in the mountain hall, weaving a web of gold. But this maiden was lovely beyond all measure, with a loveliness exceeding all the youth had ever thought to find on earth. He now went up and greeted the lovely maiden. Then the king’s daughter was much surprised and said: “Who are you that dare to venture into the giant’s hall? During all the seven long years I have been sitting here in the mountain I have never yet seen a human being.” And she added: “For heaven’s sake, hasten away before the troll comes, or else your life will be forfeit!” But the youth was full of confidence, and said he would gladly venture his life for the king’s lovely daughter.While they were still talking the giant came riding along on his colt shod with gold, and drew up at the foot of the mountain. When he went in he saw that uninvited guests had arrived, and was much frightened; for well he knew of the fate that had befallen his brothers. He therefore thought it advisable to fall back upon cunning and treachery, for he had not dared to venture on open battle. For that reason he made many fine speeches, and was very friendly and smooth with the youth. Then he told the king’s daughter to prepare a meal in order to show his guest all hospitality.And since the troll knew so well how to talk, the youth allowed himself to be beguiled by his smooth words, and forgot to be on his guard. He sat down to the table with the giant; but the king’s daughter wept secretly, and the dogs were very restless; though no one paid them any attention.When the giant and his guest had finished their meal, the youth said: “Now that I have satisfied my hunger, give me something to quench my thirst!” The giant replied: “On the mountain-top is a spring in which bubbles the clearest wine; but I have no one to fetch it.” The youth answered: “If that be all that is lacking, one of my dogs can go up.” Then the giant laughed in his false heart, for nothing suited him better than to have the youth send away his dogs. The youth ordered “Take Hold!” to go to the spring, and the giant handed him a great tankard. The dog went; yet it was easy to see that he did not go willingly; and the time passed and passed and he did not return.After a while the giant said: “I wonder why your dog stays away so long? Perhaps you would let another of your dogs go and help him; for the way is long and the tankard is heavy.” The youth did not suspect any trickery and agreed. He told “Tear!” to go and see why “Take Hold!” had not yet come. The dog wagged his tail, and did not want to leave his master. But the youth did not notice it and drove him off himself. Then the giant laughed heartily, and the king’s daughter wept, yet the youth paid no attention; but was merry and at his ease, played with his sword, and dreamed of no danger.Thus a long time passed; but nothing was heard of the wine nor of the dogs. Then the giant said: “I can see that your dogs do not do as you bid them, otherwise we should not have to sit here and thirst. I think it would be well if you let ‘Hark!’ go up and see why they do not come back.” The youth agreed, and told his third dog to hurry to the spring. But “Hark!” did not want to, and instead crept whining to his master’s feet. Then the youth grew angry and drove him off by force. And when he reached the top of the mountain he shared the fate of the others, a high wall rose round about him, and he was made a prisoner by the giant’s magic power.Now that all three dogs were gone, the giant rose, and suddenly looked altogether different. He took down a long sword from the wall, and said: “Now I will do what my brothers did not do, and you must die at once, for you are in my power!” Then the youth was frightened, and he regretted he had allowed his dogs to leave him. He said: “I do not ask for my life, since in any event the time will come when I must die. But I would like to repeat the Lord’s prayer, and play a psalm on my flute, for such is the custom in my country.” The giant granted his prayer, but said that he would not wait long. So the youth kneeled and began to blow his flute till it sounded over hill and dale. And that very moment the magic wall was broken and the dogs were freed. They came rushing on like the storm-wind, and fell upon the mountain troll. The youth at once rose and said: “‘Take Hold!’, seize him! ‘Tear!’ and ‘Hark!’ tear him into a thousand pieces!” Then the dogs flung themselves on the giant and tore him into countless pieces. Then the youth took all the treasures that lay in the mountain, hitched the giant’s horses to a gilded wagon, and drove off as fast as he could.Now when the king’s daughters met again there was great joy, as may well be imagined, and all thanked the youth for delivering them out of the power of the mountain trolls. But the youth fell deeply in love with the youngest princess, and they promised to be true to each other. So the king’s daughters passed on their way with music and merriment of every kind, and the youth served them with all the honor and courtesy due maidens of gentle birth. And while they were underway the princesses toyed with the youth’s hair, and each tied her golden ring in his locks for remembrance.One day while they were still underway, they met two wanderers, who were traveling the same road. The clothes of the two strangers were torn and their feet were sore, and their whole appearance showed that they had a long journey behind them. The youth stopped his wagon, and asked them who they were and whence they came. The strangers answered that they were two princes, and had gone forth to search for the three maidens in the mountain. But fortune had not favored them; and now they had to return home more like journeymen than kings’ sons. When the youth heard this he felt sorry for the two wanderers, and asked whether they would like to ride with him in his handsome wagon. The princes thanked him profusely for his offer. They drove on together, and came to the kingdom over which the father of the princesses reigned.Now when the princes learned that the youth had delivered the king’s three daughters, a great jealousy took possession of them, and they thought of how badly they had fared in their own venture. And they took counsel together as to how they might get the better of the youth, and win power and glory for themselves. But they hid their evil plot till a favorable opportunity offered for carrying it out. Then they suddenly threw themselves on their comrade, seized him by the throat and strangled him. And then they threatened to kill the princesses if they did not swear to keep silence. And since the king’s daughters were in the power of the princes, they did not dare say no. But they felt very sorry for the youth who had given up his life for them, and the youngest princess mourned with all her heart, and all her happiness was at an end.After this great wrong the princes drove to the royal castle, and one may well imagine how happy the king was to get back his three daughters. In the meantime the poor youth lay like dead off in a gorge in the forest. Yet he was not quite dead, and his faithful dogs lay about him, kept him warm, and licked his wounds. And they did not stop until their master came back to life again. When he was once more well and strong he set out, and after many difficulties came to the royal castle in which the princesses dwelt.When he came in the whole court was full of joy and merriment, and from the king’s hall came the sound of dancing and string music. That surprised him greatly, and he asked what it all meant. The serving-man answered: “You must come from far away, since you do not know that the king has regained his daughters who were in the power of the mountain troll. This is the oldest princess’s wedding-day.”The youth then asked after the youngest princess, and when she was to marry. But the serving-man said that she did not want a husband, and wept the live-long day, though no one knew why. Then the youth felt happy once more; for now he knew that she loved him, and had kept faith with him.The youth now went to the keeper of the door, and bade him tell the king that a guest had arrived who would add to the merriment of the wedding festivities by showing his dogs. This was to the king’s liking, and he ordered that the stranger receive the best possible treatment. And when the youth stepped into the hall, the whole wedding company were astounded by his skill and his manly bearing, and all agreed that so handsome a youth was rarely seen. But no sooner had the king’s three daughters recognized him, than they jumped up from the table, and flung themselves on his neck. And then the princes thought it best to make themselves scarce. But the king’s daughters told how the youth had freed them, and the rest of their adventures; and to make quite certain they looked for their rings among his locks.Now when the king heard of the trickery and treachery the two strange princes had used, he grew very angry and had them driven ignominously forth from the castle. But he received the brave youth with great honor, as he had deserved, and he was married to the king’s youngest daughter that selfsame day. After the king’s death the youth was chosen king of all the land, and a gallant king he was. And there he lives with his beautiful queen, and is reigning there happily to this very day. And that is all I have to do with it.
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who went to feed his sheep in the fields, and he had to cross a stream, and he took the sheep up one by one to carry them over….What then? Go on!When the sheep are over, I will finish the story.
A ship from Iceland chanced to winter in a haven near Helgafels. Among the passengers was a woman named Thorgunna, a native of the Hebrides, who was reported by the sailors to possess garments and household furniture of a fashion far surpassing those used in Iceland. Thurida, sister of the pontiff Snorro, and wife of Thorodd, a woman of a vain and covetous disposition, attracted by these reports, made a visit to the stranger, but could not prevail upon her to display her treasures. Persisting, however, in her inquiries, she pressed Thorgunna to take up her abode at the house of Thorodd. The Hebridean reluctantly assented, but added, that as she could labour at every usual kind of domestic industry, she trusted in that manner to discharge the obligation she might lie under to the family, without giving any part of her property in recompense of her lodging. As Thurida continued to urge her request, Thorgunna accompanied her to Froda, the house of Thorodd, where the seamen deposited a huge chest and cabinet, containing the property of her new guest, which Thurida viewed with curious and covetous eyes. So soon as they had pointed out to Thorgunna the place assigned for her bed, she opened the chest, and took forth such an embroidered bed coverlid, and such a splendid and complete set of tapestry hangings, and bed furniture of English linen, interwoven with silk, as had never been seen in Iceland.“Sell to me,” said the covetous matron, “this fair bed furniture.”“Believe me,” answered Thorgunna, “I will not lie upon straw in order to feed thy pomp and vanity;” an answer which so greatly displeased Thurida that she never again repeated her request. Thorgunna, to whose character subsequent events added something of a mystical solemnity, is described as being a woman of a tall and stately appearance, of a dark complexion, and having a profusion of black hair. She was advanced in age; assiduous in the labours of the field and of the loom; a faithful attendant upon divine worship; grave, silent, and solemn in domestic society. She had little intercourse with the household of Thorodd, and showed particular dislike to two of its inmates. These were Thorer, who, having lost a leg in the skirmish between Thorbiorn and Thorarin the Black, was called Thorer-Widlegr (wooden-leg), from the substitute he had adopted; and his wife, Thorgrima, called Galldra-Kinna (wicked sorceress), from her supposed skill in enchantments. Kiartan, the son of Thurida, a boy of excellent promise, was the only person of the household to whom Thorgunna showed much affection; and she was much vexed at times when the childish petulance of the boy made an indifferent return to her kindness.After this mysterious stranger had dwelt at Froda for some time, and while she was labouring in the hay-field with other members of the family, a sudden cloud from the northern mountain led Thorodd to anticipate a heavy shower. He instantly commanded the hay-workers to pile up in ricks the quantity which each had been engaged in turning to the wind. It was afterwards remembered that Thorgunna did not pile up her portion, but left it spread on the field. The cloud approached with great celerity, and sank so heavily around the farm, that it was scarce possible to see beyond the limits of the field. A heavy shower next descended, and so soon as the clouds broke away and the sun shone forth it was observed that it had rained blood. That which fell upon the ricks of the other labourers soon dried up, but what Thorgunna had wrought upon remained wet with gore. The unfortunate Hebridean, appalled at the omen, betook herself to her bed, and was seized with a mortal illness. On the approach of death she summoned Thorodd, her landlord, and intrusted to him the disposition of her property and effects.“Let my body,” said she, “be transported to Skalholt, for my mind presages that in that place shall be founded the most distinguished church in this island. Let my golden ring be given to the priests who shall celebrate my obsequies, and do thou indemnify thyself for the funeral charges out of my remaining effects. To thy wife I bequeath my purple mantle, in order that, by this sacrifice to her avarice, I may secure the right of disposing of the rest of my effects at my own pleasure. But for my bed, with its coverings, hangings, and furniture, I entreat they may be all consigned to the flames. I do not desire this because I envy any one the possession of these things after my death, but because I wish those evils to be avoided which I plainly foresee will happen if my will be altered in the slightest particular.”Thorodd promised faithfully to execute this extraordinary testament in the most exact manner. Accordingly, so soon as Thorgunna was dead, her faithful executor prepared a pile for burning her splendid bed. Thurida entered, and learned with anger and astonishment the purpose of these preparations. To the remonstrances of her husband she answered that the menaces of future danger were only caused by Thorgunna’s selfish envy, who did not wish any one should enjoy her treasures after her decease. Then, finding Thorodd inaccessible to argument, she had recourse to caresses and blandishments, and at length extorted permission to separate from the rest of the bed-furniture the tapestried curtains and coverlid; the rest was consigned to the flames, in obedience to the will of the testator. The body of Thorgunna, being wrapped in new linen and placed in a coffin, was next to be transported through the precipices and morasses of Iceland to the distant district she had assigned for her place of sepulture. A remarkable incident occurred on the way. The transporters of the body arrived at evening, late, weary, and drenched with rain, in a house called Nether-Ness, where the niggard hospitality of the proprietor only afforded them house-room, without any supply of food or fuel. But, so soon as they entered, an unwonted noise was heard in the kitchen of the mansion, and the figure of a woman, soon recognised to be the deceased Thorgunna, was seen busily employed in preparing victuals. Their inhospitable landlord, being made acquainted with this frightful circumstance, readily agreed to supply every refreshment which was necessary, on which the vision instantly disappeared. The apparition having become public, they had no reason to ask twice for hospitality as they proceeded on their journey, and they came to Skalholt, where Thorgunna, with all due ceremonies of religion, was deposited quietly in the grave. But the consequences of the breach of her testament were felt severely at Froda.The dwelling at Froda was a simple and patriarchal structure, built according to the fashion used by the wealthy among the Icelanders. The apartments were very large, and a part boarded off contained the beds of the family. On either side was a sort of store-room, one of which contained meal, the other dried fish. Every evening large fires were lighted in this apartment for dressing the victuals; and the domestics of the family usually sat around them for a considerable time, until supper was prepared. On the night when the conductors of Thorgunna’s funeral returned to Froda, there appeared, visible to all who were present, a meteor, or spectral appearance, resembling a half-moon, which glided around the boarded walls of the mansion in an opposite direction to the course of the sun, and continued to perform its revolutions until the domestics retired to rest. This apparition was renewed every night during a whole week, and was pronounced by Thorer with the wooden leg to presage pestilence or mortality. Shortly after a herdsman showed signs of mental alienation, and gave various indications of having sustained the persecution of evil demons. This man was found dead in his bed one morning, and then commenced a scene of ghost-seeing unheard of in the annals of superstition. The first victim was Thorer, who had presaged the calamity. Going out of doors one evening, he was grappled by the spectre of the deceased shepherd as he attempted to re-enter the house. His wooden leg stood him in poor stead in such an encounter; he was hurled to the earth, and so fearfully beaten, that he died in consequence of the bruises. Thorer was no sooner dead than his ghost associated itself to that of the herdsman, and joined him in pursuing and assaulting the inhabitants of Froda. Meantime an infectious disorder spread fast among them, and several of the bondsmen died one after the other. Strange portents were seen within-doors, the meal was displaced and mingled, and the dried fish flung about in a most alarming manner, without any visible agent. At length, while the servants were forming their evening circle round the fire, a spectre, resembling the head of a seal-fish, was seen to emerge out of the pavement of the room, bending its round black eyes full on the tapestried bed-curtains of Thorgunna. Some of the domestics ventured to strike at this figure, but, far from giving way, it rather erected itself further from the floor, until Kiartan, who seemed to have a natural predominance over these supernatural prodigies, seizing a huge forge-hammer, struck the seal repeatedly on the head, and compelled it to disappear, forcing it down into the floor, as if he had driven a stake into the earth. This prodigy was found to intimate a new calamity. Thorodd, the master of the family, had some time before set forth on a voyage to bring home a cargo of dried fish; but in crossing the river Enna the skiff was lost and he perished with the servants who attended him. A solemn funeral feast was held at Froda, in memory of the deceased, when, to the astonishment of the guests, the apparition of Thorodd and his followers seemed to enter the apartment dripping with water. Yet this vision excited less horror than might have been expected, for the Icelanders, though nominally Christians, retained, among other pagan superstitions, a belief that the spectres of such drowned persons as had been favourably received by the goddess Rana were wont to show themselves at their funeral feast. They saw, therefore, with some composure, Thorodd and his dripping attendants plant themselves by the fire, from which all mortal guests retreated to make room for them. It was supposed this apparition would not be renewed after the conclusion of the festival. But so far were their hopes disappointed, that, so soon as the mourning guests had departed, the fires being lighted, Thorodd and his comrades marched in on one side, drenched as before with water; on the other entered Thorer, heading all those who had died in the pestilence, and who appeared covered with dust. Both parties seized the seats by the fire, while the half-frozen and terrified domestics spent the night without either light or warmth. The same phenomenon took place the next night, though the fires had been lighted in a separate house, and at length Kiartan was obliged to compound matters with the spectres by kindling a large fire for them in the principal apartment, and one for the family and domestics in a separate hut. This prodigy continued during the whole feast of Jol. Other portents also happened to appal this devoted family: the contagious disease again broke forth, and when any one fell a sacrifice to it his spectre was sure to join the troop of persecutors, who had now almost full possession of the mansion of Froda. Thorgrima Galldrakinna, wife of Thorer, was one of these victims, and, in short, of thirty servants belonging to the household, eighteen died, and five fled for fear of the apparitions, so that only seven remained in the service of Kiartan.Kiartan had now recourse to the advice of his maternal uncle Snorro, in consequence of whose counsel, which will perhaps appear surprising to the reader, judicial measures were instituted against the spectres. A Christian priest was, however, associated with Thordo Kausa, son of Snorro, and with Kiartan, to superintend and sanctify the proceedings. The inhabitants were regularly summoned to attend upon the inquest, as in a cause between man and man, and the assembly was constituted before the gate of the mansion, just as the spectres had assumed their wonted station by the fire. Kiartan boldly ventured to approach them, and, snatching a brand from the fire, he commanded the tapestry belonging to Thorgunna to be carried out of doors, set fire to it, and reduced it to ashes with all the other ornaments of her bed, which had been so inconsiderately preserved at the request of Thurida. A tribunal being then constituted with the usual legal solemnities, a charge was preferred by Kiartan against Thorer with the wooden leg, by Thordo Kausa against Thorodd, and by others chosen as accusers against the individual spectres present, accusing them of molesting the mansion, and introducing death and disease among its inhabitants. All the solemn rites of judicial procedure were observed on this singular occasion; evidence was adduced, charges given, and the cause formally decided. It does not appear that the ghosts put themselves on their defence, so that sentence of ejectment was pronounced against them individually in due and legal form. When Thorer heard the judgment, he arose, and saying—“I have sat while it was lawful for me to do so,” left the apartment by the door opposite to that at which the judicial assembly was constituted. Each of the spectres, as it heard its individual sentence, left the place, saying something which indicated its unwillingness to depart, until Thorodd himself was solemnly called on to leave.“We have here no longer,” said he, “a peaceful dwelling, therefore will we remove.”Kiartan then entered the hall with his followers, and the priest, with holy water, and celebration of a solemn mass, completed the conquest over the goblins, which had been commenced by the power and authority of the Icelandic law.
The King of Huai Nan was a learned man of the Han dynasty. Since he was of the blood royal the emperor had given him a kingdom in fee. He cultivated the society of scholars, could interpret signs and foretell the future. Together with his scholars he had compiled the book which bears his name.One day, eight aged men came to see him. They all had white beards and white hair. The gate-keeper announced them to the King. The King wished to try them, so he sent back the gate-keeper to put difficulties in the way of their entrance. The latter said to them: “Our King is striving to learn the art of immortal life. You gentlemen are old and feeble. How can you be of aid to him? It is unnecessary for you to pay him a visit.”The eight old men smiled and said: “Oh, and are we too old to suit you? Well, then we will make ourselves young!” And before they had finished speaking they had turned themselves into boys of fourteen and fifteen, with hair-knots as black as silk and faces like peach-blossoms. The gate-keeper was frightened, and at once informed the King of what had happened. When the King heard it, he did not even take time to slip into his shoes, but hurried out barefoot to receive them. He led them into his palace, had rugs of brocade spread for them, and beds of ivory set up, fragrant herbs burned and tables of gold and precious stones set in front of them. Then he bowed before them as pupils do before a teacher, and told them how glad he was that they had come.The eight boys changed into old men again and said: “Do you wish to go to school to us, O King? Each one of us is master of a particular art. One of us can call up wind and rain, cause clouds and mists to gather, rivers to flow and mountains to heave themselves up, if he wills it so. The second can cause high mountains to split asunder and check great streams in their course. He can tame tigers and panthers and soothe serpents and dragons. Spirits and gods do his bidding. The third can send out doubles, transform himself into other shapes, make himself invisible, cause whole armies to disappear, and turn day into night. The fourth can walk through the air and clouds, can stroll on the surface of the waves, pass through walls and rocks and cover a thousand miles in a single breath. The fifth can enter fire without burning, and water without drowning. The winter frost cannot chill him, nor the summer heat burn him. The sixth can create and transform living creatures if he feel inclined. He can form birds and beasts, grasses and trees. He can move houses and castles. The seventh can bake lime so that it turns to gold, and cook lead so that it turns to silver; he can mingle water and stone so that the bubbles effervesce and turn into pearls. The eighth can ride on dragons and cranes to the eight poles of the world, converse with the immortals, and stand in the presence of the Great Pure One.”The King kept them beside him from morning to night, entertained them and had them show him what they could do. And, true enough, they could do everything just as they had said. And now the King began to distill the elixir of life with their aid. He had finished, but not yet imbibed it when a misfortune overtook his family. His son had been playing with a courtier and the latter had heedlessly wounded him. Fearing that the prince might punish him, he joined other discontented persons and excited a revolt. And the emperor, when he heard of it, sent one of his captains to judge between the King and the rebels.The eight aged men spoke: “It is now time to go. This misfortune has been sent you from heaven, O King! Had it not befallen you, you would not have been able to resolve to leave the splendors and glories of this world!”They led him on to a mountain. There they offered sacrifices to heaven, and buried gold in the earth. Then they ascended into the skies in bright daylight. The footprints of the eight aged men and of the king were imprinted in the rock of the mountain, and may be seen there to this very day. Before they had left the castle, however, they had set what was left of the elixir of life out in the courtyard. Hens and hounds picked and licked it up, and all flew up into the skies. In Huai Nan to this very day the crowing of cocks and the barking of hounds may be heard up in the skies, and it is said that these are the creatures who followed the King at the time.One of the King’s servants, however, followed him to an island in the sea, whence he sent him back. He told that the King himself had not yet ascended to the skies, but had only become immortal and was wandering about the world. When the emperor heard of the matter he regretted greatly that he had sent soldiers into the King’s land and thus driven him out. He called in magicians to aid him, in hope of meeting the eight old men himself. Yet, for all that he spent great sums, he was not successful. The magicians only cheated him.Note: The King of Huai Nan was named Liu An. He belonged to the Han dynasty. He dabbled largely in magic, and drew to his court many magicians whose labors are collected in the philosophical work which bears his name. Liu An lived at the time of the Emperor Wu (see No. 34). The latter having no heirs, Liu An entered into a conspiracy which, however, was discovered. As a consequence he killed himself, 122 B.C. Our fairy-tale presents these events in their legendary transformation.
The original proprietor of Deer Isle, off the coast of Maine—at least, the one who was in possession one hundred and thirty years ago—had the liquid name of Swunksus. His name was not the only liquid thing in the neighborhood, however, for, wherever Swunksus was, fire-water was not far. Shortly before the Revolution a renegade from Boston, one Conary, moved up to the island and helped himself to as much of it as he chose, but the longer he lived there the more he wanted. Swunksus was willing enough to divide his domain with the white intruder, but Conary was not satisfied with half. He did not need it all; he just wanted it. Moreover, he grew quarrelsome and was continually nagging poor Swunksus, until at last he forced the Indian to accept a challenge, not to immediate combat, but to fight to the death should they meet thereafter.The red man retired to his half of the island and hid among the bushes near his home to await the white man, but in this little fastness he discovered a jug of whiskey that either fate or Conary had placed there. Before an hour was over he was “as full and mellow as a harvest moon,” and it was then that his enemy appeared. There was no trouble in finding Swunksus, for he was snoring like a fog horn, and walking boldly up to him, Conary blew his head off with a load of slugs. Then he took possession of the place and lived happily ever after. Swunksus takes his deposition easily, for, although he has more than once paraded along the beaches, his ghost spends most of the time in slumber, and terrific snores have been heard proceeding from the woods in daylight.
O-way-way-ham-by-yoh, in the land of the Taos Indians, all of the tribe went out in the forest to gather nuts. While they were there a young girl with a cruel heart found a little baby boy. She did not tell anybody about the baby boy; and she had no way to carry him home with her, so when they returned to the village she left the little fellow in the mountains.Ten years later a party of Taos Indians went up into those same mountains with long bows and arrows to hunt deer. While they were slipping around quietly behind the trees, they saw an old coyote with some little coyotes; and standing beside them was a little naked boy ten years old. The Indians did not dare to shoot at the coyotes for fear they might kill the little boy, so they jumped out from behind the trees and tried to catch the boy. But he was too quick for them. He could run faster than the coyotes, and they all ran into the coyote’s den in the side of the mountain.The mother coyote had found that little baby and taken him to her den. She had fed him and kept him all those years.The Indians went back home and called a council of all of the tribe. They told them about the little boy they had seen in the mountains.“He belongs to our tribe, we must go up into the mountains and get him,” said the old chief.So the warriors went up into the mountains. One warrior went to the mouth of the coyote’s den. The other warriors made a big circle around the place where the little boy and the coyotes were, in order to try to catch him. The little boy was so quick, he ran right through the circle and ran as fast as he could toward his den-house; but the man there caught the boy in his arms and held him tight.It was so late that the Indians had to camp in the woods that night. They made a big fire and roasted some deer meat for their supper. The little boy would not eat any cooked meat. The Indians had to feed him with raw meat just like the coyotes had fed him.When they got back home the Indians named the little boy Deh-a, which means “fox”; because he came from the woods. They put Deh-a down into the cellar of a house for a year to tame him, and all the Indians prayed that the Great Spirit would give him magic.Deh-a had learned all the animal languages while he lived with the coyotes. He knew all the signs of the weather – when it would rain and when it would snow. When he heard the coyotes howl, Deh-a knew there was danger from other animals; and so he became a very wise little boy.One day Deh-a looked at the clouds growing dark all around the village. He told the Indians it was going to rain for forty days and forty nights. He begged them to pack up all the food they would need for forty days and to climb to the top of the highest mountain, so that the rain might not drown them.Half of the Indians did not believe him and stayed at home. The other half took food and climbed up the highest mountain they could find. When they reached the top of the mountain, the rain began to fall and all kinds of animals climbed the mountain too, until the top of the mountain was all covered with Indians and animals. The turkeys were the last ones to get there. It rained so hard and so fast that water covered all of the low places. It drowned all of the people who stayed at home and washed away their houses. The water covered all of the trees, all of the hills and all of the mountains, except the one where the Indians had gone with Deh-a. It ran around the mountain top so fast that it became covered with white foam, little bubbles, you know – and the foam touched the tails of the animals that were on the lowest ring around the mountain and those animals have white tips on their tails to this very day.
Once upon a time, a certain King was hunting in a great forest, and he chased a wild beast so eagerly that none of his attendants could follow him. When evening drew near he stopped and looked around him, and then he saw that he had lost his way. He sought a way out, but could find none. Then he perceived an aged woman with a head which nodded perpetually, who came towards him, but she was a witch. “Good woman,” said he to her, “Can you not show me the way through the forest?” “Oh, yes, Lord King,” she answered, “that I certainly can, but on one condition, and if you do not fulfil that, you will never get out of the forest, and will die of hunger in it.”“What kind of condition is it?” asked the King.“I have a daughter,” said the old woman, “who is as beautiful as any one in the world, and well deserves to be your consort, and if you will make her your Queen, I will show you the way out of the forest.” In the anguish of his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her little hut, where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the King as if she had been expecting him, and he saw that she was very beautiful, but still she did not please him, and he could not look at her without secret horror. After he had taken the maiden up on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the King reached his royal palace again, where the wedding was celebrated.The King had already been married once, and had by his first wife, seven children, six boys and a girl, whom he loved better than any- thing else in the world. As he now feared that the step-mother might not treat them well, and even do them some injury, he took them to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a forest. It lay so concealed, and the way was so difficult to find, that he himself would not have found it, if a wise woman had not given him a ball of yarn with wonder- ful properties. When he threw it down before him, it unrolled itself and showed him his path. The King, however, went so frequently away to his dear children that the Queen observed his absence; she was curious and wanted to know what he did when he was quite alone in the forest. She gave a great deal of money to his servants, and they betrayed the secret to her, and told her likewise of the ball which alone could point out the way. And now she knew no rest until she had learnt where the King kept the ball of yarn, and then she made little shirts of white silk, and as she had learnt the art of witchcraft from her mother, she sewed a charm inside them. And once when the King had ridden forth to hunt, she took the little shirts and went into the forest, and the ball showed her the way. The children, who saw from a distance that some one was approaching, thought that their dear father was coming to them, and full of joy, ran to meet him. Then she threw one of the little shirts over each of them, and no sooner had the shirts touched their bodies than they were changed into swans, and flew away over the forest. The Queen went home quite delighted, and thought she had got rid of her step-children, but the girl had not run out with her brothers, and the Queen knew nothing about her. Next day the King went to visit his children, but he found no one but the little girl. “Where are thy brothers?” asked the King. “Alas, dear father,” she answered, “they have gone away and left me alone!” and she told him that she had seen from her little window how her brothers had flown away over the forest in the shape of swans, and she showed him the feathers, which they had let fall in the courtyard, and which she had picked up. The King mourned, but he did not think that the Queen had done this wicked deed, and as he feared that the girl would also be stolen away from him, he wanted to take her away with him. But she was afraid of her step-mother, and en- treated the King to let her stay just this one night more in the forest castle.The poor girl thought, “I can no longer stay here. I will go and seek my brothers.” And when night came, she ran away, and went straight into the forest. She walked the whole night long, and next day also without stopping, until she could go no farther for weariness. Then she saw a forest-hut, and went into it, and found a room with six little beds, but she did not venture to get into one of them, but crept under one, and lay down on the hard ground, intending to pass the night there. Just before sunset, however, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come flying in at the window. They alighted on the ground and blew at each other, and blew all the feathers off, and their swan’s skins stripped off like a shirt. Then the maiden looked at them and recognized her brothers, was glad and crept forth from beneath the bed. The brothers were not less delighted to see their little sister, but their joy was of short duration. “Here canst thou not abide,” they said to her. “This is a shelter for robbers, if they come home and find thee, they will kill thee.” “But can you not protect me?” asked the little sister. “No,” they replied, “only for one quarter of an hour each evening can we lay aside our swan’s skins and have during that time our human form; after that, we are once more turned into swans.” The little sister wept and said, “Can you not be set free?” “Alas, no,” they answered, “the conditions are too hard! For six years thou mayst neither speak nor laugh, and in that time thou must sew together six little shirts of starwort for us. And if one single word falls from thy lips, all thy work will be lost.” And when the brothers had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew out of the window again as swans.The maiden, however, firmly resolved to deliver her brothers, even if it should cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the midst of the forest, seated herself on a tree, and there passed the night. Next morning she went out and gathered starwort and began to sew. She could not speak to any one, and she had no inclination to laugh; she sat there and looked at nothing but her work.When she had already spent a long time there it came to pass that the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree on which the maiden was sitting. They called to her and said, “Who art thou?” But she made no answer. “Come down to us,” said they. “We will not do thee any harm.” She only shook her head. As they pressed her further with questions she threw her golden necklace down to them, and thought to content them thus. They, however, did not cease, and then she threw her girdle down to them, and as this also was to no purpose, her garters, and by degrees everything that she had on that she could do without until she had nothing left but her shift. The hunts- men, however, did not let themselves be turned aside by that, but climbed the tree and fetched the maiden down and led her before the King. The King asked, “Who art thou? What art thou doing on the tree?” But she did not answer. He put the question in every language that he knew, but she remained as mute as a fish. As she was so beautiful, the King’s heart was touched, and he was smitten with a great love for her. He put his mantle on her, took her before him on his horse, and carried her to his castle. Then he caused her to be dressed in rich garments, and she shone in her beauty like bright daylight, but no word could be drawn from her. He placed her by his side at table, and her modest bearing and courtesy pleased him so much that he said, “She is the one whom I wish to marry, and no other woman in the world.” And after some days he united himself to her.The King, however, had a wicked mother who was dissatisfied with this marriage and spoke ill of the young Queen. “Who knows,” said she, “from whence the creature who can’t speak, comes? She is not worthy of a king!” After a year had passed, when the Queen brought her first child into the world, the old woman took it away from her, and smeared her mouth with blood as she slept. Then she went to the King and accused the Queen of being a man-eater. The King would not believe it, and would not suffer any one to do her any injury. She, however, sat continually sewing at the shirts, and cared for nothing else. The next time, when she again bore a beautiful boy, the false step-mother used the same treachery, but the King could not bring himself to give credit to her words. He said, “She is too pious and good to do anything of that kind; if she were not dumb, and could defend herself, her innocence would come to light.” But when the old woman stole away the newly-born child for the third time, and accused the Queen, who did not utter one word of defence, the King could do no otherwise than deliver her over to justice, and she was sentenced to suffer death by fire.When the day came for the sentence to be executed, it was the last day of the six years during which she was not to speak or laugh, and she had delivered her dear brothers from the power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready, only the left sleeve of the sixth was wanting. When, therefore, she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and when she stood on high and the fire was just going to be lighted, she looked around and six swans came flying through the air towards her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and her heart leapt with joy. The swans swept towards her and sank down so that she could throw the shirts over them, and as they were touched by them, their swan’s skins fell off, and her brothers stood in their own bodily form before her, and were vigorous and handsome. The youngest only lacked his left arm, and had in the place of it a swan’s wing on his shoulder. They embraced and kissed each other, and the Queen went to the King, who was greatly moved, and she began to speak and said, “Dearest husband, now I may speak and declare to thee that I am innocent, and falsely accused.” And she told him of the treachery of the old woman who had taken away her three children and hidden them. Then to the great joy of the King they were brought thither, and as a punishment, the wicked step-mother was bound to the stake, and burnt to ashes. But the King and the Queen with their six brothers lived many years in happiness and peace.
One day a countryman going to the nest of his Goose found there an egg all yellow and glittering. When he took it up it was as heavy as lead and he was going to throw it away, because he thought a trick had been played upon him. But he took it home on second thoughts, and soon found to his delight that it was an egg of pure gold. Every morning the same thing occurred, and he soon became rich by selling his eggs. As he grew rich he grew greedy; and thinking to get at once all the gold the Goose could give, he killed it and opened it only to find nothing. Greed often over reaches itself.
Long, long time ago the Laguna Indians used to live down by the ocean. One of the Indian men lived alone with his little daughter Thun-tsay (Sunlight). Thun-tsay did not have a mother. Her father thought she was lonely, so he brought a new mother to his house. This new mother had a little girl of her own, Cohn-nah (Darkness). She did many nice things for her Cohn-nah; but she treated Thun-tsay very unkindly. So Thun-tsay used to run away from her step-mother down to the beach, and make herself happy gathering shells and playing in the sand.One day she found a little fish that had been left in a pool of water on the sand when the tide went out.“Thun-tsay,” said the little fish, “I am hungry. Won’t you please give me something to eat?”So Thun-tsay ran home and got bread crumbs for the little fish; and every day for four days she fed him. On the fourth day he asked her, “Please throw me back into the ocean and I will give you a present.”Thun-tsay picked up the little fish and threw him back into the ocean; and as she did so he said to her, “Go home and comb your hair and you will find my present.”Thun-tsay ran home as fast as she could and got her bunch of straw, that she brushed and combed her hair with, and began brushing it at once. And as she brushed all kind of beautiful things fell out. She was rich with gifts and she had plenty to share with her father.When her step-mother found out what had happened to Thun-tsay, she sent her own daughter Cohn-nah down to the beach to look for the little fish, so that he might give Cohn-nah presents, too.She found the little fish once more in a pool of water.“Please give me some food, Cohn-nah,” asked the little fish, “for I am very hungry.”But Cohn-nah laughed and threw sand into the water. Then she went away and left the little fish.Next day Cohn-nah went down to the beach where the little fish begged again for food; and again she threw sand at him. He begged her on the third day and on the fourth day he said, “Please throw me back into the ocean and I will give you a present. Go home and comb your hair and you will find my present.”Cohn-nah picked him up quickly and threw him into the ocean. Then she ran home and told her mother, “Get my comb. The fish has promised me a present, too.” But when Cohn-nah combed her hair, it all fell out over the floor and there were no presents.Her mother was angry and she treated Thun-tsay meaner than ever. So Thun-tsay began to go to the beach again every day to get away from her step-mother.One day a big fish came up out of the water near her. “Thun-tsay,” he said, “I am the little fish that you fed. I have grown to be chief of the fishes now. Won’t you come down into the ocean with me and be my bride? I have beautiful things waiting for you.”So Thun-tsay jumped into the ocean and went down to live with the big Fish-Chief. She lived happily with him for a long time; until one day she grew homesick to see her father.“Please let me go back home to see my father, Fish-Chief?” asked Thun-tsay.“All right, you may go,” said Fish-Chief, “and here are presents to take to him; but you must promise me to come back again at the end of six months.”“I will come back,” replied Thun-tsay, so Fish-Chief took her up to the shore and she went home.She found her father so sick from grieving over Thun-tsay’s disappearance that even her step-mother was glad to have her return. Her father got well and Thun-tsay was again so happy that she forgot all about her promise to Fish-Chief.But one day as she was walking along the beach, she saw poor Fish-Chief lying on the sand almost dead. He was grieving himself to death. Thun-tsay ran to him.“I can not live without you, Thun-tsay. It is too lonely in my palace when you are gone. If you do not go back into the ocean with me, I shall die. You may live with your father half of the time; but if you do not come back to me for the other half I cannot live.”So Thun-tsay went back with Fish-Chief and lived happily ever after, spending half of the time in the Fish palace and half of the time with her father.
At Behary lived a peasant whose name was Palichka. One day as he was walking to market at Kopidlno, he found in the field under a pear-tree a black hen, wet, trembling with cold, and crying. Palichka took the hen under his cloak, and having brought her home, put her behind the oven, so that she might dry herself, and then let her go into the yard among his other fowls.At night, when everybody was asleep, the peasant heard a strange noise in his storeroom, and now and then a piercing voice, half human and half like that of a fowl, crying, “Master, I have brought you some potatoes!” Palichka jumped out of bed, rushed into the storeroom, and there saw a flaming hen and three heaps of potatoes; the hen was flying from heap to heap. “Fie, you unclean thing,” cried the terrified peasant, and having violently shut the door he went to bed again; but he could not sleep from fear at the thought of what a terrible creature he had brought home. In the morning he removed all these potatoes to a dunghill.On the following night Palichka again heard the same voice, crying, “Master, I have brought you some wheat, rye, and barley!” Palichka did not go to see what it was, but trembling with fear like a leaf, he prayed continually: “Deliver us from evil.” In the morning he took up a spade and a besom, and having carefully swept the room, he removed all this corn away, so that not even a grain was left behind.This event gave him a great deal of anxiety; he did not know what to do, and was greatly alarmed lest any of his neighbours should hear about it. But his neighbours soon knew all about the matter; they saw at night something flying to Palichka’s house, looking like a burning wisp of straw, and yet it did not set the house on fire; in the day-time they observed a black hen in the yard among the other fowls. Soon a report was spread in the village that gossip Palichka had sold himself to the demon. Some of the more sober of his neighbours shook their heads doubtfully, as from his youth they knew Palichka to be both pious and honest, and they agreed among themselves to go and speak to him about the rumour. Accordingly they called upon Palichka, and he told them candidly everything that had happened, and asked them to advise him what to do.Afterwards some of the neighbours advised Palichka to sell all he had and remove from thence, as Rarash would, doubtless, remain in the house. The peasant readily seized this idea, and searched for a buyer; but no one would buy a house with a Rarash in it. Palichka, however, was determined to get rid of Rarash at any price. Accordingly he sold all his corn, cattle, and all that he did not absolutely want, bought a new hut in a neighbouring village, and removed there. Having arrived for the last time with a cart and loaded it with sheep troughs, household utensils, harrows, and other implements, he set his straw-covered hut on fire; it stood alone and could not hurt any other building. Then he cracked his whip and was about to drive away; before doing so, however, he looked once more at his hut as it was burning, and said,—“May you burn there, you unclean thing! I am sure to get something for the land at least.”“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed somebody behind him on the cart. Palichka looked round, and on the handle of a scythe the black hen was sitting; she flapped with her wings and began to sing,—“We shall remove from here, we shall not stop here;We shall not stop here, we shall go away from here;We shall not stop here, we shall remove from here;We shall remove from here, somewhere else we shall steal.”Gossip Palichka felt like one thunderstruck. He really did not know what to do next. Then a thought occurred to him whether Rarash would not be persuaded to go away of his own accord if he would feed him well. Accordingly he asked his wife to give Rarash daily a dishful of fresh milk and three small loaves of wheaten bread. Rarash enjoyed this food immensely, and it did not seem at all likely that he would go away. One evening, as Palichka’s servant boy returned home from the field, he saw on the steps of the hut the three small loaves which the wife had put there for Rarash. Being hungry the boy took up one of the loaves and ate it.“It is better that I should eat this bread than that goblin,” he said to himself.At that very moment Rarash jumped upon his back and screamed, “First loaf, second loaf! Vashek ate the third loaf!” And after every exclamation pecked him so dreadfully on the back that for a long time afterwards the boy had black and blue marks on his body. In the morning when Palichka got up and went to wake the boy he found him so dreadfully beaten that he could scarcely move. Having heard what had happened, Palichka went at once to Rarash and begged him to go away, as otherwise no man would be willing to serve in his house.“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Rarash, and said, “Take me there, where you brought me from, and I shall not trouble you any longer.”The peasant at once put on his cloak and carried the hen back to the same pear-tree where he had found her. From that moment Rarash never troubled him any more.In a sheepfold at Libenice there was another Rarash, but there he was called Shetek. He looked like a little boy, only instead of nails he had claws on his fingers and toes. The farm labourers told many merry stories about him. Shetek was very fond of teasing dogs, cats, and turkeys; he also did a great deal of mischief to the farm servants, and whenever they did anything which they did not like their master to know, he was sure to expose them afterwards. On that account, especially, the farm servants hated him very much; they were, however, afraid to do anything to him, because he would be sure to revenge himself; moreover, the master would not allow him to be hurt, as during the whole of the time that Shetek stopped in the sheepfold, not one of the sheep sickened.In winter Shetek loved to sit on the top of the oven and warm himself, and when the young women brought into the room husks in pails in order to pour hot water over them, he used to jump down from the oven into the pail screaming, “Now for the husks!” But one day he burned himself dreadfully. One of the young women had filled her pail with boiling hot water, sprinkled some husks on the top of it, and then came into the room as usual. “Now for the husks!” cried Shetek, and jumped into the pail; but in a moment he was out again, screaming and writhing with pain. The servants laughed so loudly that the windows shook in their frames. Shetek never forgave the girl. One day, as she was walking over a ladder lying on the ground, he entangled her dress so much in it that the other servants were obliged to come to the girl’s assistance, and it was a long time before they could disengage her from the ladder.In summer-time the farm servants used to sleep in the open air. One night Shetek came to them, and having half climbed up a ladder that was standing near, he began to tease the dogs that were sleeping in the yard. He lifted up now one of his legs, now another, and continually called out to them,—“One leg,—two legs! which of them would you like to bite?”The dogs barked at him and almost got mad with fury. The men, too, became very angry with him for disturbing them in their sleep; so one of them got up, took up a bundle of straw, threw it at Shetek and knocked him down with it from the ladder. The dogs received Shetek rather warmly, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he escaped from them. The man knew that Shetek was sure to revenge himself; he therefore was on his guard and tried to avoid him. All this precaution, however, did not help him in the least. One day, as he was watching a flock of sheep in the meadow, he sat down on the grass behind a heap of hay. Suddenly he heard a rustling noise near, and before he had time to see what it was, the whole heap of hay was thrown over him and entangled in his hair. The man screamed for help, and the mowers ran to his assistance; but do what they would they could not disentangle the hay from among the hair, they were so closely interwoven one with the other. The man was obliged to have his head shaved. When some time afterwards he drove the sheep into the meadow and came to a wild pear-tree, Shetek, who was sitting on the top of it, mocked him and laughed, “Ha! ha! ha!”
There was once upon a time a king who delighted in hunting wild animals in forests. One day he chased a stag to a great distance and lost his way. He was all alone; night came on, and the king was only too glad to find a cottage in a clearing. A charcoal-burner lived there. The king asked him whether he would guide him out of the forest to the road, promising to pay him well for it. ‘I would gladly go with you,’ said the charcoal-burner, ‘but, you see, my wife is expecting; I cannot go away. And whither would you go at this time of night? Lie down on some hay on the garret floor, and to-morrow morning I will be your guide.’ Soon afterwards a baby boy was born to the charcoal-burner. The king was lying on the floor and couldn’t sleep. At midnight he observed a kind of light in the keeping-room below. He peeped through a chink in the boarding and saw the charcoal-burner asleep, his wife lying in a dead faint, and three old hags, all in white, standing by the baby, each with a lighted taper in her hand. The first said: ‘My gift to this boy is, that he shall come into great dangers.’ The second said: ‘My gift to him is, that he shall escape from them all and live long.’ And the third said: ‘And I give him to wife the baby daughter who has this day been born to that king who is lying upstairs on the hay.’ Thereupon the hags put out their tapers, and all was still again. They were the Fates.The king felt as if a sword had been thrust into his breast. He didn’t sleep till morning, thinking over what to do, and how to do it, to prevent that coming to pass which he had heard. When day dawned the child began to cry. The charcoal-burner got up and saw that his wife had gone to sleep for ever. ‘Oh, my poor little orphan!’ whimpered he; ‘what shall I do with you now?’ ‘Give me the baby,’ said the king; ‘I’ll take care that it shall be well with it, and will give you so much money that you needn’t burn charcoal as long as you live.’ The charcoal-burner was delighted at this, and the king promised to send for the baby. When he arrived at his palace they told him, with great joy, that a beautiful baby-daughter had been born to him on such and such a night. It was the very night on which he saw the three Fates. The king frowned, called one of his servants, and told him: ‘Go to such a place in the forest; a charcoal-burner lives there in a cottage. Give him this money, and he will give you a little child. Take the child and drown it on your way back. If you don’t drown it, you shall drink water yourself.’ The servant went, took the baby and put it into a basket, and when he came to a narrow foot-bridge, under which flowed a deep and broad river, he threw the basket and all into the water. ‘Good-night, uninvited son-in-law!’ said the king, when the servant told him what he had done.The king thought that the baby was drowned, but it wasn’t. It floated in the water in the basket as if it had been its cradle, and slept as if the river were singing to it, till it floated down to a fisherman’s cottage. The fisherman was sitting by the bank mending his net. He saw something floating down the river, jumped into his boat, and went to catch it, and out of the water he drew the baby in the basket. He carried it to his wife, and said: ‘You’ve always wanted a little son, and here you have one. The water has brought him to us.’ The fisherman’s wife was delighted, and brought up the child as her own. They named him ‘Floatling’ (Plaváczek), because he had floated to them on the water.The river flowed on and years passed on, and from a boy he became a handsome youth, the like of whom was not to be found far and wide. One day in the summer it came to pass that the king rode that way all alone. It was hot, and he was thirsty, and beckoned to the fisherman to give him a little fresh water. When Floatling brought it to him, the king looked at him with astonishment. ‘You’ve a fine lad, fisherman!’ said he; ‘is he your son?’ ‘He is and he isn’t,’ replied the fisherman; ‘just twenty years ago he floated, as a little baby, down the river in a basket, and we brought him up.’ A mist came before the king’s eyes; he became as pale as a whitewashed wall, perceiving that it was the child he had ordered to be drowned. But he soon recollected himself, sprang from his horse, and said: ‘I want a messenger to my palace, and have nobody with me: can this youth go thither for me?’ ‘Your majesty has but to command and the lad will go,’ said the fisherman. The king sat down and wrote a letter to his queen: ‘Cause this young man whom I send you to be run through with a sword at once; he is a dangerous enemy of mine. Let it be done before I return. Such is my will.’ He then folded the letter, fastened and sealed it with his signet.Floatling started at once with the letter. He had to go through a great forest, but missed the road and lost his way. He went from thicket to thicket till it began to grow dark. Then he met an old hag, who said to him: ‘Whither are you going, Floatling?’ ‘I am going with a letter to the king’s palace, and have lost my way. Can’t you tell me, mother, how to get into the right road?’ ‘Anyhow, you won’t get there to-day,’ said the hag; ‘it’s dark. Stay the night with me. You won’t be with a stranger. I am your godmother.’ The young man allowed himself to be persuaded, and they hadn’t gone many paces when they saw before them a pretty little house, just as if it had grown all at once out of the ground. In the night, when the lad was asleep, the hag took the letter out of his pocket and put another in its place, in which it was written thus: ‘Cause this young man whom I send you to be married to our daughter at once; he is my destined son-in-law. Let it be done before I return. Such is my will.’When the queen read the letter, she immediately ordered arrangements to be made for the wedding, and neither she nor the young princess could gaze enough at the bridegroom, so delighted were they with him; and Floatling was similarly delighted with his royal bride. Some days after, the king came home, and when he found what had happened, he was violently enraged at his queen for what she had done. ‘Anyhow, you ordered me yourself to have him married to our daughter before you returned,’ answered the queen, and gave him the letter. The king took the letter and looked it through—writing, seal, paper, everything was his own. He had his son-in-law called, and questioned him about what had happened on his way to the palace.Floatling related how he had started and had lost his way in the forest, and stayed the night with his old godmother. ‘What did she look like?’ ‘So and so.’ The king perceived from his statement that it was the same person that had, twenty years before, assigned his daughter to the charcoal-burner’s son. He thought and thought, and then he said: ‘What’s done can’t be altered; still, you can’t be my son-in-law for nothing. If you want to have my daughter, you must bring me for a dowry three golden hairs of Grandfather Allknow.’ He thought to himself that he should thus be quit of his distasteful son-in-law.Floatling took leave of his bride and went—which way, and whither? I don’t know; but, as a Fate was his godmother, it was easy for him to find the right road. He went far and wide, over hills and dales, over fords and rivers, till he came to a black sea. There he saw a boat, and in it a ferryman. ‘God bless you, old ferryman!’ ‘God grant it, young pilgrim! Whither are you travelling?’ ‘To Grandfather Allknow, for three golden hairs.’ ‘Ho, ho! I have long been waiting for such a messenger. For twenty years I’ve been ferrying here, and nobody’s come to set me free. If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow when the end of my work will be, I will ferry you over.’ Floatling promised, and the ferryman ferried him across.After this he came to a great city, but it was decayed and sad. In front of the city he met an old man, who had a staff in his hand, and could scarcely crawl. ‘God bless you, aged grandfather!’ ‘God grant it, handsome youth! Whither are you going?’ ‘To Grandfather Allknow, for three golden hairs.’ ‘Ah! ah! we’ve long been waiting for some such messenger; I must at once conduct you to our lord the king.’ When they got there the king said: ‘I hear that you are going on an errand to Grandfather Allknow. We had an apple-tree here that bore youth-producing apples. If anybody ate one, though he were on the brink of the grave, he got young again, and became like a young man. But for the last twenty years our apple-tree has produced no fruit. If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow whether there is any help for us, I will requite you royally.’ Floatling promised, and the king dismissed him graciously.After that he came again to another great city, which was half ruined. Not far from the city a son was burying his deceased father, and tears, like peas, were rolling down his cheek. ‘God bless you, mournful grave-digger!’ said Floatling. ‘God grant it, good pilgrim! Whither are you going?’ ‘I am going to Grandfather Allknow, for three golden hairs.’ ‘To Grandfather Allknow? It’s a pity you didn’t come sooner! But our king has long been waiting for some such messenger; I must conduct you to him.’ When they got there, the king said: ‘I hear that you are going on an errand to Grandfather Allknow. We had a well here, out of which sprang living water; if anybody drank it, even were he at the point of death, he would get well at once; nay, were he already a corpse, if this water were sprinkled upon him, he would immediately rise up and walk. But for the last twenty years the water has ceased to flow. If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow whether there is any help for us, I will give you a royal reward.’ Floatling promised, and the king dismissed him graciously.After this he went far and wide through a black forest, and in the midst of that forest espied a large green meadow, full of beautiful flowers, and in it a golden palace. This was Grandfather Allknow’s palace; it glittered as if on fire. Floatling went into the palace, but found nobody there but an old hag sitting and spinning in a corner. ‘Welcome, Floatling!’ said she; ‘I am delighted to see you again.’ It was his godmother, at whose house he had spent the night when he was carrying the letter. ‘What has brought you here?’ ‘The king would not allow me to be his son-in-law for nothing, so he sent me for three golden hairs of Grandfather Allknow.’ The hag smiled, and said: ‘Grandfather Allknow is my son, the bright Sun; in the morning he is a little lad, at noon a grown man, and in the evening an old grandfather. I will provide you with the three golden hairs from his golden head, that I too mayn’t be your godmother for nothing. But, my boy! you can’t remain as you are. My son is certainly a good soul, but when he comes home hungry in the evening, it might easily happen that he might roast and eat you for his supper. Yonder is an empty tub; I will cover you over with it.’ Floatling begged her also to question Grandfather Allknow about the three things concerning which he had promised on the road to bring answers. ‘I will,’ said the hag, ‘and do you give heed to what he says.’All at once a wind arose outside and in flew the Sun, an old grandfather with a golden head, by the west window into the room. ‘A smell, a smell of human flesh!’ says he; ‘have you anybody here, mother?’ ‘Star of the day! whom could I have here without your seeing him? But so it is; you’re all day long flying over God’s world, and your nose is filled with the scent of human flesh; so it’s no wonder that you still smell it when you come home in the evening.’ The old man said nothing in reply, and sat down to his supper.After supper he laid his golden head on the hag’s lap and began to slumber. As soon as she saw that he was sound asleep, she pulled out a golden hair and threw it on the ground. It rang like a harp-string. ‘What do you want, mother?’ said the old man. ‘Nothing, sonny, nothing! I was asleep, and had a marvellous dream.’ ‘What did you dream about?’ ‘I dreamt about a city, where they had a spring of living water; when anybody was ill and drank of it, he got well again; and if he died and was sprinkled with this water, he came to life again. But for the last twenty years the water has ceased to flow; is there any help that it may flow again?’ ‘Quite easy; there’s a toad sitting on the spring in the well that won’t let the water flow. Let them kill the toad and clean out the well; the water will flow as before.’ When the old man fell asleep again, the hag pulled out a second golden hair and threw it on the ground. ‘What ails you again, mother?’ ‘Nothing, sonny, nothing; I was asleep, and again had a marvellous dream. I dreamt of a city where they had an apple-tree which bore youth-restoring apples; when anybody grew old and ate one he became young again. But for the last twenty years the apple-tree has borne no fruit; is there any help?’ ‘Quite easy; under the tree there lies a snake that exhausts its powers; let them kill the snake and transplant the apple-tree; it will bear fruit as before.’ The old man then fell asleep again, and the hag pulled out a third golden hair. ‘Why won’t you let me sleep, mother?’ said the old man crossly, and wanted to get up. ‘Lie still, sonny, lie still! Don’t be angry, I didn’t want to wake you. But a heavy sleep fell upon me, and I had another marvellous dream. I dreamt of a ferryman on a black sea; for twenty years he has been ferrying across it, and no one has come to set him free. When will his work have an end?’ ‘He’s the son of a stupid mother. Let him give the oar into another person’s hand and jump ashore himself; the other will be ferryman in his stead. But let me be quiet now; I must get up early to-morrow and go to dry the tears which the king’s daughter sheds every night for her husband, the charcoal-burner’s son, whom the king has sent for three golden hairs of mine.’In the morning a wind again arose outside, and on the lap of its old mother awoke, instead of the old man, a beautiful golden-haired child, the divine Sun, who bade farewell to his mother and flew out by the east window. The hag turned up the tub and said to Floatling: ‘There are the three golden hairs for you, and you also know what Grandfather Allknow has answered to those three things. Go; and good-bye! You will see me no more; there is no need of it.’ Floatling thanked the hag gratefully, and departed.When he came to the first city, the king asked him what news he brought him. ‘Good news,’ said Floatling. ‘Have the well cleaned out, and kill the toad which sits on the spring, and the water will flow again as aforetime.’ The king had this done without delay, and when he saw the water bubbling up with a full stream, he presented Floatling with twelve horses white as swans, and on them as much gold and silver as they could carry.When he came to the second city the king asked him again what news he brought. ‘Good news!’ said Floatling. ‘Have the apple-tree dug up; you will find a snake under the roots; kill it; then plant the apple-tree again, and it will bear fruit as aforetime.’ The king had this done at once, and during the night the apple-tree was clothed with bloom, just as if it had been bestrewn with roses. The king was delighted, and presented Floatling with twelve horses as black as ravens, and on them as much riches as they could carry.Floatling travelled on, and when he came to the black sea, the ferryman asked him whether he had learnt when he would be liberated. ‘I have,’ said Floatling. ‘But ferry me over first, and then I will tell you.’ The ferryman objected, but when he saw that there was nothing else to be done, he ferried him over with his four-and-twenty horses. ‘Before you ferry anybody over again,’ said Floatling, ‘put the oar into his hand and jump ashore, and he will be ferryman in your stead.’The king didn’t believe his eyes when Floatling brought him the three golden hairs of Grandfather Allknow; and his daughter wept, not from sorrow, but from joy at his return. ‘But where did you get these beautiful horses and this great wealth?’ asked the king. ‘I earned it,’ said Floatling; and related how he had helped one king again to the youth-restoring apples, which make young people out of old ones; and another to the living water, which makes sick people well and dead people living. ‘Youth-restoring apples! living water!’ repeated the king quietly to himself. ‘If I ate one I should become young again; and if I died I should be restored to life by that water.’ Without delay he started on the road for the youth-restoring apples and the living water—and hasn’t returned yet.Thus the charcoal-burner’s son became the king’s son-in-law, as the Fate decreed; and as for the king, maybe he is still ferrying across the black sea.
This beautiful alp in the White Mountains commemorates in its name a prophet of the Pequawket tribe who, prior to undertaking a journey, had confided his son to a friendly settler, Cornelius Campbell, of Tamworth. The boy found some poison in the house that had been prepared for foxes, and, thinking it to be some delicacy, he drank of it and died. When Chocorua returned he could not be persuaded that his son had fallen victim to his own ignorance, but ascribed his death to the white man’s treachery, and one day, when Campbell entered his cabin from the fields, he found there the corpses of his wife and children scalped and mangled.He was not a man to lament at such a time: hate was stronger than sorrow. A fresh trail led from his door. Seizing his rifle he set forth in pursuit of the murderer. A mark in the dust, a bent grass blade, a torn leaf-these were guides enough, and following on through bush and swamp and wood they led him to this mountain, and up the slope he scrambled breathlessly. At the summit, statue-like, Chocorua stood. He saw the avenger coming, and knew himself unarmed, but he made no attempt to escape his doom. Drawing himself erect and stretching forth his hands he invoked anathema on his enemies in these words: “A curse upon you, white men! May the Great Spirit curse you when he speaks in the clouds, and his words are fire! Chocorua had a son and you killed him while the sky looked bright. Lightning blast your crops! Winds and fire destroy your dwellings! The Evil One breathe death upon your cattle! Your graves lie in the war-path of the Indian! Panthers howl and wolves fatten over your bones! Chocorua goes to the Great Spirit. His curse stays with the white man.”The report of Campbell’s rifle echoed from the ledges and Chocorua leaped into the air, plunging to the rocks below. His mangled remains were afterward found and buried near the Tamworth path. The curse had its effect, for pestilence and storm devastated the surrounding country and the smaller settlements were abandoned. Campbell became a morose hermit, and was found dead in his bed two years afterward.
It was then that Loki, with the wish of making the Æsir and the Vanir friendly to him once more, brought out the wonderful things he had gained from the Dwarfs—the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir. The Æsir and the Vanir marveled at things so wonderful. Loki gave the spear as a gift to Odin, and to Frey, who was chief of the Vanir, he gave the boat Skidbladnir.All Asgard rejoiced that things so wonderful and so helpful had been brought to them. And Loki, who had made a great show in giving these gifts, said boastingly:“None but the Dwarfs who work for me could make such things. There are other Dwarfs, but they are as unhandy as they are misshapen. The Dwarfs who are my servants are the only ones who can make such wonders.”Now Loki in his boastfulness had said a foolish thing. There were other Dwarfs besides those who had worked for him, and one of these was there in Asgard. All unknown to Loki he stood in the shadow of Odin’s seat, listening to what was being said. Now he went over to Loki, his little, unshapely form trembling with rage—Brock, the most spiteful of all the Dwarfs.“Ha, Loki, you boaster,” he roared, “you lie in your words. Sindri, my brother, who would scorn to serve you, is the best smith in Svartheim.”The Æsir and the Vanir laughed to see Loki outfaced by Brock the Dwarf in the middle of his boastfulness. As they laughed Loki grew angry.“Be silent, Dwarf,” he said, “your brother will know about smith’s work when he goes to the Dwarfs who are my friends, and learns something from them.”“He learn from the Dwarfs who are your friends! My brother Sindri learn from the Dwarfs who are your friends!” Brock roared, in a greater rage than before. “The things you have brought out of Svartheim would not be noticed by the Æsir and the Vanir if they were put beside the things that my brother Sindri can make.”“Sometime we will try your brother Sindri and see what he can do,” said Loki.“Try now, try now,” Brock shouted. “I’ll wager my head against yours, Loki, that his work will make the Dwellers in Asgard laugh at your boasting.”“I will take your wager,” said Loki. “My head against yours. And glad will I be to see that ugly head of yours off your misshapen shoulders.”“The Æsir will judge whether my brother’s work is not the best that ever came out of Svartheim. And they will see to it that you will pay your wager, Loki, the head off your shoulders. Will ye not sit in judgment, O Dwellers in Asgard?”“We will sit in judgment,” said the Æsir. Then, still full of rage, Brock the Dwarf went down to Svartheim, and to the place where his brother Sindri worked.There was Sindri in his glowing forge, working with bellows and anvil and hammers beside him, and around him masses of metal—gold and silver, copper and iron. Brock told his tale, how he had wagered his head against Loki’s that Sindri could make things more wonderful than the spear and the boat that Loki had brought into Asgard.“You were right in what you said, my brother,” said Sindri, “and you shall not lose your head to Loki. But the two of us must work at what I am going to forge. It will be your work to keep the fire so that it will neither blaze up nor die down for a single instant. If you can keep the fire as I tell you, we will forge a wonder. Now, brother, keep your hands upon the bellows, and keep the fire under your control.”Then into the fire Sindri threw, not a piece of metal, but a pig’s skin. Brock kept his hands on the bellows, working it so that the fire neither died down nor blazed up for a single instant. And in the glowing fire the pigskin swelled itself into a strange shape.But Brock was not left to work the bellows in peace. In to the forge flew a gadfly. It lighted on Brock’s hands and stung them. The Dwarf screamed with pain, but his hands still held the bellows, working it to keep the fire steady, for he knew that the gadfly was Loki, and that Loki was striving to spoil Sindri’s work. Again the gadfly stung his hands, but Brock, although his hands felt as if they were pierced with hot irons, still worked the bellows so that the fire did not blaze up or die down for a single instant.Sindri came and looked into the fire. Over the shape that was rising there he said words of magic. The gadfly had flown away, and Sindri bade his brother cease working. He took out the thing that had been shaped in the fire, and he worked over it with his hammer. It was a wonder indeed—a boar, all golden, that could fly through the air, and that shed light from its bristles as it flew. Brock forgot the pain in his hands and screamed with joy. “This is the greatest of wonders,” he said. “The Dwellers in Asgard will have to give the judgment against Loki. I shall have Loki’s head!”But Sindri said, “The boar Golden Bristle may not be judged as great a wonder as the spear Gungnir or the boat Skidbladnir. We must make something more wonderful still. Work the bellows as before, brother, and do not let the fire die down or blaze up for a single instant.”Then Sindri took up a piece of gold that was so bright it lightened up the dark cavern that the Dwarfs worked in. He threw the piece of gold into the fire. Then he went to make ready something else and left Brock to work the bellows.The gadfly flew in again. Brock did not know it was there until it lighted on the back of his neck. It stung him till Brock felt the pain was wrenching him apart. But still he kept his hands on the bellows, working it so that the fire neither blazed up nor died down for a single instant. When Sindri came to look into the fire, Brock was not able to speak for pain.Again Sindri said magic words over the gold that was being smelted in the fire. He took it out of the glow and worked it over on the main-anvil. Then in a while he showed Brock something that looked like the circle of their sun. “A splendid armring, my brother,” he said. “An armring for a God’s right arm. And this ring has hidden wonders. Every ninth night eight rings like itself will drop from this armring, for this is Draupnir, the Ring of Increase.”“To Odin, the Father of the Gods, the ring shall be given,” said Brock. “And Odin will have to declare that nothing so wonderful or so profitable to the Gods was ever brought into Asgard. O Loki, cunning Loki, I shall have thy head in spite of thy tricks.”“Be not too hasty, brother,” said Sindri. “What we have done so far is good. But better still must be the thing that will make the Dwellers in Asgard give the judgment that delivers Loki’s head to thee. Work as before, brother, and do not let the fire blaze up or die down for a single instant.”This time Sindri threw into the fire a bar of iron. Then he went away to fetch the hammer that would shape it. Brock worked the bellows as before, but only his hands were steady, for every other part of him was trembling with expectation of the gadfly’s sting.He saw the gadfly dart into the forge. He screamed as it flew round and round him, searching out a place where it might sting him most fearfully. It lighted down on his forehead, just between his eyes. The first sting it gave took the sight from his eyes. It stung again and Brock felt the blood flowing down. Darkness filled the cave. Brock tried to keep his hands steady on the bellows, but he did not know whether the fire was blazing up or dying down. He shouted and Sindri hurried up.Sindri said the magic words over the thing that was in the fire. Then he drew it out. “An instant more,” he said, “and the work would have been perfect. But because you let the fire die down for an instant the work is not as good as it might have been made.” He took what was shaped in the fire to the main-anvil and worked over it. Then when Brock’s eyesight came back to him he saw a great hammer, a hammer all of iron. The handle did not seem to be long enough to balance the head. This was because the fire had died down for an instant while it was being formed.“The hammer is Miölnir,” said Sindri, “and it is the greatest of the things that I am able to make. All in Asgard must rejoice to see this hammer. Thor only will be able to wield it. Now I am not afraid of the judgment that the Dwellers in Asgard will give.”“The Dwellers in Asgard will have to give judgment for us,” Brock cried out. “They will have to give judgment for us, and the head of Loki, my tormentor, will be given me.”“No more wonderful or more profitable gifts than these have ever been brought into Asgard,” Sindri said. “Thy head is saved, and thou wilt be able to take the head of Loki who was insolent to us. Bring it here, and we will throw it into the fire in the forge.”The Æsir and the Vanir were seated in the Council House of Asgard when a train of Dwarfs appeared before them. Brock came at the head of the train, and he was followed by a band of Dwarfs carrying things of great weight. Brock and his attendants stood round the throne of Odin, and hearkened to the words of the Father of the Gods.“We know why you have come into Asgard from out of Svartheim,” Odin said. “You have brought things wonderful and profitable to the Dwellers in Asgard. Let what you have brought be seen, Brock. If they are more wonderful and more useful than the things Loki has brought out of Svartheim, the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir, we will give judgment for you.”Then Brock commanded the Dwarfs who waited on him to show the Dwellers in Asgard the first of the wonders that Sindri had made. They brought out the boar, Golden Bristle. Round and round the Council House the boar flew, leaving a track of brightness. The Dwellers in Asgard said one to the other that this was a wonder indeed. But none would say that the boar was a better thing to have in Asgard than the spear that would hit the mark no matter how badly it was flung, or the boat Skidbladnir that would sail on any sea, and that could be folded up so small that it would fit in any one’s pocket: none would say that Golden Bristle was better than these wonders.To Frey, who was Chief of the Vanir, Brock gave the wondrous boar.Then the attending Dwarfs showed the armring that was as bright as the circle of the Sun. All admired the noble ring. And when it was told how every ninth night this ring dropped eight rings of gold that were like itself, the Dwellers in Asgard spoke aloud, all saying that Draupnir, the Ring of Increase, was a wonder indeed. Hearing their voices raised, Brock looked triumphantly at Loki who was standing there with his lips drawn closely together.To Odin, the Father of the Gods, Brock gave the noble armring.Then he commanded the attending Dwarfs to lay before Thor the hammer Miölnir. Thor took the hammer up and swung it around his head. As he did so he uttered a great cry. And the eyes of the Dwellers in Asgard lightened up when they saw Thor with the hammer Miölnir in his hands; their eyes lightened up and from their lips came the cry, “This is a wonder, a wonder indeed! With this hammer in his hand none can withstand Thor, our Champion. No greater thing has ever come into Asgard than the hammer Miölnir.”Then Odin, the Father of the Gods, spoke from his throne, giving judgment. “The hammer Miölnir that the Dwarf Brock has brought into Asgard is a thing wonderful indeed and profitable to the Gods. In Thor’s hands it can crush mountains, and hurl the Giant race from the ramparts of Asgard. Sindri the Dwarf has forged a greater thing than the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir. There can be no other judgment.”Brock looked at Loki, showing his gnarled teeth. “Now, Loki, yield your head, yield your head,” he cried.“Do not ask such a thing,” said Odin. “Put any other penalty on Loki for mocking you and tormenting you. Make him yield to you the greatest thing that it is in his power to give.”“Not so, not so,” screamed Brock. “You Dwellers in Asgard would shield one another. But what of me? Loki would have taken my head had I lost the wager. Loki has lost his head to me. Let him kneel down now till I cut it off.”Loki came forward, smiling with closed lips. “I kneel before you, Dwarf,” he said. “Take off my head. But be careful. Do not touch my neck. I did not bargain that you should touch my neck. If you do, I shall call upon the Dwellers in Asgard to punish you.”Brock drew back with a snarl. “Is this the judgment of the Gods?” he asked.“The bargain you made, Brock,” said Odin, “was an evil one, and all its evil consequences you must bear.”Brock, in a rage, looked upon Loki, and he saw that his lips were smiling. He stamped his feet and raged. Then he went up to Loki and said, “I may not take your head, but I can do something with your lips that mock me.”“What would you do, Dwarf?” asked Thor.“Sew Loki’s lips together,” said Brock, “so that he can do no more mischief with his talk. You Dwellers in Asgard cannot forbid me to do this. Down, Loki, on your knees before me.”Loki looked round on the Dwellers in Asgard and he saw that their judgment was that he must kneel before the Dwarf. He knelt down with a frown upon his brow. “Draw your lips together, Loki,” said Brock. Loki drew his lips together while his eyes flashed fire. With an awl that he took from his belt Brock pierced Loki’s lips. He took out a thong and tightened them together. Then in triumph the Dwarf looked on Loki.“O Loki,” he said, “you boasted that the Dwarfs who worked for you were better craftsmen than Sindri, my brother. Your words have been shown to be lies. And now you cannot boast for a while.”Then Brock the Dwarf, with great majesty, walked out of the Council House of Asgard, and the attending Dwarfs marched behind him in procession. Down the passages in the earth the Dwarfs went, singing the song of Brock’s triumph over Loki. And in Svartheim it was told forever after how Sindri and Brock had prevailed.In Asgard, now that Loki’s lips were closed, there was peace and a respite from mischief. No one amongst the Æsir or the Vanir were sorry when Loki had to walk about in silence with his head bent low.
You must know that Judas was the one who betrayed Jesus Christ. Now when Judas betrayed him, his Master said: “Repent, Judas, for I pardon you.” But Judas, not at all! he departed with his bag of money, in despair and cursing heaven and earth. What did he do? While he was going along thus desperate he came across a tamarind-tree. (You must know that the tamarind was formerly a large tree, like the olive and walnut.) When he saw this tamarind a wild thought entered his mind, remembering the treason he had committed. He made a noose in a rope and hung himself to the tamarind. And hence it is (because this traitor Judas was cursed by God) that the tamarind-tree dried up, and from that time on it ceased growing up into a tree and became a short, twisted, and tangled bush; and its wood is good for nothing, neither to burn, nor to make anything out of, and all on account of Judas, who hanged himself on it.Some say that the soul of Judas went to the lowest hell, to suffer the most painful torments; but I have heard, from older persons who can know, that Judas’s soul has a severer sentence. They say that it is in the air, always wandering about the world, without being able to rise higher or fall lower; and every day, on all the tamarind shrubs that it meets, it sees its body hanging and torn by the dogs and birds of prey. They say that the pain he suffers cannot be told, and that it makes the flesh creep to think of it. And thus Jesus Christ condemned him for his great treason.
A Shipwrecked Man cast up on the beach fell asleep after his struggle with the waves. When he woke up, he bitterly reproached the Sea for its treachery in enticing men with its smooth and smiling surface, and then, when they were well embarked, turning in fury upon them and sending both ship and sailors to destruction. The Sea arose in the form of a woman, and replied, “Lay not the blame on me, O sailor, but on the Winds. By nature I am as calm and safe as the land itself: but the Winds fall upon me with their gusts and gales, and lash me into a fury that is not natural to me.”
Once upon a time there lived a king who was always at war with his neighbours, which was very strange, as he was a good and kind man, quite content with his own country, and not wanting to seize land belonging to other people. Perhaps he may have tried too much to please everybody, and that often ends in pleasing nobody; but, at any rate, he found himself, at the end of a hard struggle, defeated in battle, and obliged to fall back behind the walls of his capital city. Once there, he began to make preparations for a long siege, and the first thing he did was to plan how best to send his wife to a place of security.The queen, who loved her husband dearly, would gladly have remained with him to share his dangers, but he would not allow it. So they parted, with many tears, and the queen set out with a strong guard to a fortified castle on the outskirts of a great forest, some two hundred miles distant. She cried nearly all the way, and when she arrived she cried still more, for everything in the castle was dusty and old, and outside there was only a gravelled courtyard, and the king had forbidden her to go beyond the walls without at least two soldiers to take care of her.Now the queen had only been married a few months, and in her own home she had been used to walk and ride all over the hills without any attendants at all; so she felt very dull at her being shut up in this way. However, she bore it for a long while because it was the king’s wish, but when time passed and there were no signs of the war drifting in the direction of the castle, she grew bolder, and sometimes strayed outside the walls, in the direction of the forest.Then came a dreadful period, when news from the king ceased entirely.‘He must surely be ill or dead,’ thought the poor girl, who even now was only sixteen. ‘I can bear it no longer, and if I do not get a letter from him soon I shall leave this horrible place and go back to see what is the matter. Oh! I do wish I had never come away!’So, without telling anyone what she intended to do, she ordered a little low carriage to be built, something like a sledge, only it was on two wheels–just big enough to hold one person.‘I am tired of being always in the castle,’ she said to her attendants; ‘and I mean to hunt a little. Quite close by, of course,’ she added, seeing the anxious look on their faces. ‘And there is no reason that you should not hunt too.’All the faces brightened at that, for, to tell the truth, they were nearly as dull as their mistress; so the queen had her way, and two beautiful horses were brought from the stable to draw the little chariot. At first the queen took care to keep near the rest of the hunt, but gradually she stayed away longer and longer, and at last, one morning, she took advantage of the appearance of a wild boar, after which her whole court instantly galloped, to turn into a path in the opposite direction.Unluckily, it did not happen to lead towards the king’s palace, where she intended to go, but she was so afraid her flight would be noticed that she whipped up her horses till they ran away.When she understood what was happening the poor young queen was terribly frightened, and, dropping the reins, clung to the side of the chariot. The horses, thus left without any control, dashed blindly against a tree, and the queen was flung out on the ground, where she lay for some minutes unconscious.A rustling sound near her at length caused her to open her eyes; before her stood a huge woman, almost a giantess, without any clothes save a lion’s skin, which was thrown over her shoulders, while a dried snake’s skin was plaited into her hair. In one hand she held a club on which she leaned, and in the other a quiver full of arrows.At the sight of this strange figure the queen thought she must be dead, and gazing on an inhabitant of another world. So she murmured softly to herself:‘I am not surprised that people are so loth to die when they know that they will see such horrible creatures.’ But, low as she spoke, the giantess caught the words, and began to laugh.‘Oh, don’t be afraid; you are still alive, and perhaps, after all, you may be sorry for it. I am the Lion Fairy, and you are going to spend the rest of your days with me in my palace, which is quite near this. So come along.’ But the queen shrank back in horror.‘Oh, Madam Lion, take me back, I pray you, to my castle; and fix what ransom you like, for my husband will pay it, whatever it is. But the giantess shook her head.‘I am rich enough already,’ she answered, ‘but I am often dull, and I think you may amuse me a little.’ And, so saying, she changed her shape into that of a lion, and throwing the queen across her back, she went down the ten thousand steps that led to her palace. The lion had reached the centre of the earth before she stopped in front of a house, lighted with lamps, and built on the edge of a lake of quicksilver. In this lake various huge monsters might be seen playing or fighting–the queen did not know which– and around flew rooks and ravens, uttering dismal croaks. In the distance was a mountain down whose sides waters slowly coursed–these were the tears of unhappy lovers–and nearer the gate were trees without either fruit of flowers, while nettles and brambles covered the ground. If the castle had been gloomy, what did the queen feel about this?For some days the queen was so much shaken by all she had gone through that she lay with her eyes closed, unable either to move or speak. When she got better, the Lion Fairy told her that if she liked she could build herself a cabin, as she would have to spend her life in that place. At these words the queen burst into tears, and implored her gaoler to put her to death rather than condemn her to such a life; but the Lion Fairy only laughed, and counselled her to try to make herself pleasant, as many worse things might befall her.‘Is there no way in which I can touch your heart?’ asked the poor girl in despair.‘Well, if you really wish to please me you will make me a pasty out of the stings of bees, and be sure it is good.’‘But I don’t see any bees,’ answered the queen, looking round.‘Oh, no, there aren’t any,’ replied her tormentor; ‘but you will have to find them all the same.’ And, so saying, she went away.‘After all, what does it matter?’ thought the queen to herself, ‘I have only one life, and I can but lose it.’ And not caring what she did, she left the palace and seating herself under a yew tree, poured out all her grief.‘Oh, my dear husband,’ wept she, ‘what will you think when you come to the castle to fetch me and find me gone? Rather a thousand times that you should fancy me dead than imagine that I had forgotten you! Ah, how fortunate that the broken chariot should be lying in the wood, for then you may grieve for me as one devoured by wild beasts. And if another should take my place in your heart–Well, at least I shall never know it.’She might have continued for long in this fashion had not the voice of a crow directly overhead attracted her attention. Looking up to see what was the matter she beheld, in the dim light, a crow holding a fat frog in his claws, which he evidently intended for his supper. The queen rose hastily from the seat, and striking the bird sharply on the claws with the fan which hung from her side, she forced him to drop the frog, which fell to the round more dead than alive. The crow, furious at his disappointment, flew angrily away.As soon as the frog had recovered her senses she hopped up to the queen, who was still sitting under the yew. Standing on her hind legs, and bowing low before her, she said gently:‘Beautiful lady, by what mischance do you come here? You are the only creature that I have seen do a kind deed since a fatal curiosity lured me to this place.’‘What sort of a frog can you be that knows the language of mortals?’ asked the queen in her turn. ‘But if you do, tell me, I pray, if I alone am a captive, for hitherto I have beheld no one but the monsters of the lake.’‘Once upon a time they were men and women like yourself,’ answered the frog, ‘but having power in their hands, they used it for their own pleasure. Therefore fate has sent them here for a while to bear the punishment of their misdoings.’‘But you, friend frog, you are not one of these wicked people, I am sure?’ asked the queen.‘I am half a fairy,’ replied the frog; ‘but, although I have certain magic gifts, I am not able to do all I wish. And if the Lion Fairy were to know of my presence in her kingdom she would hasten to kill me.’‘But if you are a fairy, how was it that you were so nearly slain by the crow?’ said the queen, wrinkling her forehead.‘Because the secret of my power lies in my little cap that is made of rose leaves; but I had laid it aside for the moment, when that horrible crow pounced upon me. Once it is on my head I fear nothing. But let me repeat; had it not been for you I could not have escaped death, and if I can do anything to help you, or soften your hard fate, you have only to tell me.’‘Alas,’ sighed the queen, ‘I have been commanded by the Lion Fairy to make her a pasty out of the stings of bees, and, as far as I can discover, there are none here; as how should there be, seeing there are no flowers for them to feed on? And, even if there were, how could I catch them?’‘Leave it to me,’ said the frog, ‘I will manage it for you.’ And, uttering a strange noise, she struck the ground thrice with her foot. In an instant six thousand frogs appeared before her, one of them bearing a little cap.‘Cover yourselves with honey, and hop round by the beehives,’ commanded the frog, putting on the cap which her friend was holding in her mouth. And turning to the queen, he added:‘The Lion Fairy keeps a store of bees in a secret place near to the bottom of the ten thousand steps leading into the upper world. Not that she wants them for herself, but they are sometimes useful to her in punishing her victims. However, this time we will get the better of her.’Just as she had finished speaking the six thousand frogs returned, looking so strange with bees sticking to every part of them that, sad as she felt, the poor queen could not help laughing. The bees were all so stupefied with what they had eaten that it was possible to draw their stings without hunting them. So, with the help of her friend, the queen soon made ready her pasty and carried it to the Lion Fairy.‘Not enough pepper,’ said the giantess, gulping down large morsels, in order the hide the surprise she felt. ‘Well, you have escaped this time, and I am glad to find I have got a companion a little more intelligent than the others I have tried. Now, you had better go and build yourself a house.’So the queen wandered away, and picking up a small axe which lay near the door she began with the help of her friend the frog to cut down some cypress trees for the purpose. And not content with that the six thousand froggy servants were told to help also, and it was not long before they had built the prettiest little cabin in the world, and made a bed in one corner of dried ferns which they fetched from the top of the ten thousand steps. It looked soft and comfortable, and the queen was very glad to lie down upon it, so tired was she with all that had happened since the morning. Scarcely, however, had she fallen asleep when the lake monsters began to make the most horrible noises just outside, while a small dragon crept in and terrified her so that she ran away, which was just what the dragon wanted!The poor queen crouched under a rock for the rest of the night, and the next morning, when she woke from her troubled dreams, she was cheered at seeing the frog watching by her.‘I hear we shall have to build you another palace,’ said she. ‘Well, this time we won’t go so near the lake.’ And she smiled with her funny wide mouth, till the queen took heart, and they went together to find wood for the new cabin.The tiny palace was soon ready, and a fresh bed made of wild thyme, which smelt delicious. Neither the queen nor the frog said anything about it, but somehow, as always happens, the story came to the ears of the Lion Fairy, and she sent a raven to fetch the culprit.‘What gods or men are protecting you?’ she asked, with a frown. ‘This earth, dried up by a constant rain of sulphur and fire, produces nothing, yet I hear that YOUR bed is made of sweet smelling herbs. However, as you can get flowers for yourself, of course you can get them for me, and in an hour’s time I must have in my room a nosegay of the rarest flowers. If not–! Now you can go.’The poor queen returned to her house looking so sad that the frog, who was waiting for her, noticed it directly.‘What is the matter?’ said she, smiling.‘Oh, how can you laugh!’ replied the queen. ‘This time I have to bring her in an hour a posy of the rarest flowers, and where am I to find them? If I fail I know she will kill me.’‘Well, I must see if I can’t help you,’ answered the frog. ‘The only person I have made friends with here is a bat. She is a good creature, and always does what I tell her, so I will just lend her my cap, and if she puts it on, and flies into the world, she will bring back all we want. I would go myself, only she will be quicker.’Then the queen dried her eyes, and waited patiently, and long before the hour had gone by the bat flew in with all the most beautiful and sweetest flowers that grew on the earth. The girl sprang up overjoyed at the sight, and hurried with them to the Lion Fairy, who was so astonished that for once she had nothing to say.Now the smell and touch of the flowers had made the queen sick with longing for her home, and she told the frog that she would certainly die if she did not manage to escape somehow.‘Let me consult my cap,’ said the frog; and taking it off she laid it in a box, and threw in after it a few sprigs of juniper, some capers, and two peas, which she carried under her right leg; she then shut down the lid of the box, and murmured some words which the queen did not catch.In a few moments a voice was heard speaking from the box.‘Fate, who rules us all,’ said the voice, ‘forbids your leaving this place till the time shall come when certain things are fulfilled. But, instead, a gift shall be given you, which will comfort you in all your troubles.’And the voice spoke truly, for, a few days after, when the frog peeped in at the door she found the most beautiful baby in the world lying by the side of the queen.‘So the cap has kept its word,’ cried the frog with delight. ‘How soft its cheeks are, and what tiny feet it has got! What shall we call it?’This was a very important point, and needed much discussion. A thousand names were proposed and rejected for a thousand silly reasons. One was too long, and one was too short. One was too harsh, and another reminded the queen of somebody she did not like; but at length an idea flashed into the queen’s head, and she called out:‘I know! We will call her Muffette.’‘That is the very thing,’ shouted the frog, jumping high into the air; and so it was settled.The princess Muffette was about six months old when the frog noticed that the queen had begun to grow sad again.‘Why do you have that look in your eyes?’ she asked one day, when she had come in to play with the baby, who could now crawl.The way they played their game was to let Muffette creep close to the frog, and then for the frog to bound high into the air and alight on the child’s head, or back, or legs, when she always sent up a shout of pleasure. There is no play fellow like a frog; but then it must be a fairy frog, or else you might hurt it, and if you did something dreadful might happen to you. Well, as I have said, our frog was struck with the queen’s sad face, and lost no time in asking her what was the reason.‘I don’t see what you have to complain of now; Muffette is quite well and quite happy, and even the Lion Fairy is kind to her when she sees her. What is it?’‘Oh! if her father could only see her!’ broke forth the queen, clasping her hands. ‘Or if I could only tell him all that has happened since we parted. But they will have brought him tidings of the broken carriage, and he will have thought me dead, or devoured by wild beasts. And though he will mourn for me long–I know that well–yet in time they will persuade him to take a wife, and she will be young and fair, and he will forget me.’And in all this the queen guessed truly, save that nine long years were to pass before he would consent to put another in her place.The frog answered nothing at the time, but stopped her game and hopped away among the cypress trees. Here she sat and thought and thought, and the next morning she went back to the queen and said:‘I have come, madam, to make you an offer. Shall I go to the king instead of you, and tell him of your sufferings, and that he has the most charming baby in the world for his daughter? The way is long, and I travel slowly; but, sooner or later, I shall be sure to arrive. Only, are you not afraid to be left without my protection? Ponder the matter carefully; it is for you to decide.’‘Oh, it needs no pondering,’ cried the queen joyfully, holding up her clasped hands, and making Muffette do likewise, in token of gratitude. But in order that he may know that you have come from me I will send him a letter.’ And pricking her arm, she wrote a few words with her blood on the corner of her handkerchief. Then tearing it off, she gave it to the frog, and they bade each other farewell.It took the frog a year and four days to mount the ten thousand steps that led to the upper world, but that was because she was still under the spell of a wicked fairy. By the time she reached the top, she was so tired that she had to remain for another year on the banks of a stream to rest, and also to arrange the procession with which she was to present herself before the king. For she knew far too well what was due to herself and her relations, to appear at Court as if she was a mere nobody. At length, after many consultations with her cap, the affair was settled, and at the end of the second year after her parting with the queen they all set out.First walked her bodyguard of grasshoppers, followed by her maids of honour, who were those tiny green frogs you see in the fields, each one mounted on a snail, and seated on a velvet saddle. Next came the water-rats, dressed as pages, and lastly the frog herself, in a litter borne by eight toads, and made of tortoiseshell. Here she could lie at her ease, with her cap on her head, for it was quite large and roomy, and could easily have held two eggs when the frog was not in it.The journey lasted seven years, and all this time the queen suffered tortures of hope, though Muffette did her best to comfort her. Indeed, she would most likely have died had not the Lion Fairy taken a fancy that the child and her mother should go hunting with her in the upper world, and, in spite of her sorrows, it was always a joy to the queen to see the sun again. As for little Muffette, by the time she was seven her arrows seldom missed their mark. So, after all, the years of waiting passed more quickly than the queen had dared to hope.The frog was always careful to maintain her dignity, and nothing would have persuaded her to show her face in public places, or even along the high road, where there was a chance of meeting anyone. But sometimes, when the procession had to cross a little stream, or go over a piece of marshy ground, orders would be given for a halt; fine clothes were thrown off, bridles were flung aside, and grasshoppers, water-rats, even the frog herself, spent a delightful hour or two playing in the mud.But at length the end was in sight, and the hardships were forgotten in the vision of the towers of the king’s palace; and, one bright morning, the cavalcade entered the gates with all the pomp and circumstance of a royal embassy. And surely no ambassador had ever created such a sensation! Door and windows, even the roofs of houses, were filled with people, whose cheers reached the ears of the king. However, he had no time to attend to such matters just then, as, after nine years, he had at last consented to the entreaties of his courtiers, and was on the eve of celebrating his second marriage.The frog’s heart beat high when her litter drew up before the steps of the palace, and leaning forward she beckoned to her side one of the guards who were standing in his doorway.‘I wish to see his Majesty,’ said he.‘His Majesty is engaged, and can see no one,’ answered the soldier.‘His Majesty will see ME,’ returned the frog, fixing her eye upon him; and somehow the man found himself leading the procession along the gallery into the Hall of Audience, where the king sat surrounded by his nobles arranging the dresses which everyone was to wear at his marriage ceremony.All stared in surprise as the procession advanced, and still more when the frog gave one bound from the litter on to the floor, and with another landed on the arm of the chair of state.‘I am only just in time, sire,’ began the frog; ‘had I been a day later you would have broken your faith which you swore to the queen nine years ago.’‘Her remembrance will always be dear to me,’ answered the king gently, though all present expected him to rebuke the frog severely for her impertinence. But know, Lady Frog, that a king can seldom do as he wishes, but must be bound by the desires of his subjects. For nine years I have resisted them; now I can do so no longer, and have made choice of the fair young maiden playing at ball yonder.’‘You cannot wed her, however fair she may be, for the queen your wife is still alive, and sends you this letter written in her own blood,’ said the frog, holding out the square of handkerchief as she spoke. ‘And, what is more, you have a daughter who is nearly nine years old, and more beautiful than all the other children in the world put together.’The king turned pale when he heard these words, and his hand trembled so that he could hardly read what the queen had written. Then he kissed the handkerchief twice or thrice, and burst into tears, and it was some minutes before he could speak. When at length he found his voice he told his councillors that the writing was indeed that of the queen, and now that he had the joy of knowing she was alive he could, of course, proceed no further with his second marriage. This naturally displeased the ambassadors who had conducted the bride to court, and one of them inquired indignantly if he meant to put such an insult on the princess on the word of a mere frog.‘I am not a “mere frog,” and I will give you proof of it,’ retorted the angry little creature. And putting on her cap, she cried: Fairies that are my friends, come hither!’ And in a moment a crowd of beautiful creatures, each one with a crown on her head, stood before her. Certainly none could have guessed that they were the snails, water- rats, and grasshoppers from which she had chosen her retinue.At a sign from the frog the fairies danced a ballet, with which everyone was so delighted that they begged to have to repeated; but now it was not youths and maidens who were dancing, but flowers. Then these again melted into fountains, whose waters interlaced and, rushing down the sides of the hall, poured out in a cascade down the steps, and formed a river found the castle, with the most beautiful little boats upon it, all painted and gilded.‘Oh, let us go in them for a sail!’ cried the princess, who had long ago left her game of ball for a sight of these marvels, and, as she was bent upon it, the ambassadors, who had been charged never to lose sight of her, were obliged to go also, though they never entered a boat if they could help it.But the moment they and the princess had seated themselves on the soft cushions, river and boats vanished, and the princess and the ambassadors vanished too. Instead the snails and grasshoppers and water-rats stood round the frog in their natural shapes.‘Perhaps,’ said she, ‘your Majesty may now be convinced that I am a fairy and speak the truth. Therefore lose no time in setting in order the affairs of your kingdom and go in search of your wife. Here is a ring that will admit you into the presence of the queen, and will likewise allow you to address unharmed the Lion Fairy, though she is the most terrible creature that ever existed.’By this time the king had forgotten all about the princess, whom he had only chosen to please his people, and was as eager to depart on his journey as the frog was for him to go. He made one of his ministers regent of the kingdom, and gave the frog everything her heart could desire; and with her ring on his finger he rode away to the outskirts of the forest. Here he dismounted, and bidding his horse go home, he pushed forward on foot.Having nothing to guide him as to where he was likely to find the entrance of the under- world, the king wandered hither and thither for a long while, till, one day, while he was resting under a tree, a voice spoke to him.‘Why do you give yourself so much trouble for nought, when you might know what you want to know for the asking? Alone you will never discover the path that leads to your wife.’Much startled, the king looked about him. He could see nothing, and somehow, when he thought about it, the voice seemed as if it were part of himself. Suddenly his eyes fell on the ring, and he understood.‘Fool that I was!’ cried he; ‘and how much precious time have I wasted? Dear ring, I beseech you, grant me a vision of my wife and my daughter!’ And even as he spoke there flashed past him a huge lioness, followed by a lady and a beautiful young maid mounted on fairy horses.Almost fainting with joy he gazed after them, and then sank back trembling on the ground.‘Oh, lead me to them, lead me to them!’ he exclaimed. And the ring, bidding him take courage, conducted him safely to the dismal place where his wife had lived for ten years.Now the Lion Fairy knew beforehand of his expected presence in her dominions, and she ordered a palace of crystal to be built in the middle of the lake of quicksilver; and in order to make it more difficult of approach she let it float whither it would. Immediately after their return from the chase, where the king had seen them, she conveyed the queen and Muffette into the palace, and put them under the guard of the monsters of the lake, who one and all had fallen in love with the princess. They were horribly jealous, and ready to eat each other up for her sake, so they readily accepted the charge. Some stationed themselves round the floating palace, some sat by the door, while the smallest and lightest perched themselves on the roof.Of course the king was quite ignorant of these arrangements, and boldly entered the palace of the Lion Fairy, who was waiting for him, with her tail lashing furiously, for she still kept her lion’s shape. With a roar that shook the walls she flung herself upon him; but he was on the watch, and a blow from his sword cut off the paw she had put forth to strike him dead. She fell back, and with his helmet still on and his shield up, he set his foot on her throat.‘Give me back the wife and the child you have stolen from me,’ he said, ‘or you shall not live another second!’But the fairy answered:‘Look through the window at that lake and see if it is in my power to give them to you.’ And the king looked, and through the crystal walls he beheld his wife and daughter floating on the quicksilver. At that sight the Lion Fairy and all her wickedness was forgotten. Flinging off his helmet, he shouted to them with all his might. The queen knew his voice, and she and Muffette ran to the window and held out their hands. Then the king swore a solemn oath that he would never leave the spot without taking them if it should cost him his life; and he meant it, though at the moment he did not know what he was undertaking.Three years passed by, and the king was no nearer to obtaining his heart’s desire. He had suffered every hardship that could be imagined–nettles had been his bed, wild fruits more bitter than gall his food, while his days had been spent in fighting the hideous monsters which kept him from the palace. He had not advanced one single step, nor gained one solitary advantage. Now he was almost in despair, and ready to defy everything and throw himself into the lake.It was at this moment of his blackest misery that, one night, a dragon who had long watched him from the roof crept to his side.‘You thought that love would conquer all obstacles,’ said he; ‘well, you have found it hasn’t! But if you will swear to me by your crown and sceptre that you will give me a dinner of the food that I never grow tired of, whenever I choose to ask for it, I will enable you to reach your wife and daughter.’Ah, how glad the king was to hear that! What oath would he not have taken so as to clasp his wife and child in is arms? Joyfully he swore whatever the dragon asked of him; then he jumped on his back, and in another instant would have been carried by the strong wings into the castle if the nearest monsters had not happened to awake and hear the noise of talking and swum to the shore to give battle. The fight was long and hard, and when the king at last beat back his foes another struggle awaited him. At the entrance gigantic bats, owls, and crows set upon him from all sides; but the dragon had teeth and claws, while the queen broke off sharp bits of glass and stabbed and cut in her anxiety to help her husband. At length the horrible creatures flew away; a sound like thunder was heard, the palace and the monsters vanished, while, at the same moment–no one knew how– the king found himself standing with his wife and daughter in the hall of his own home.The dragon had disappeared with all the rest, and for some years no more was heard or thought of him. Muffette grew every day more beautiful, and when she was fourteen the kings and emperors of the neighbouring countries sent to ask her in marriage for themselves or their sons. For a long time the girl turned a deaf ear to all their prayers; but at length a young prince of rare gifts touched her heart, and though the king had left her free to choose what husband she would, he had secretly hoped that out of all the wooers this one might be his son-in-law. So they were betrothed that some day with great pomp, and then with many tears, the prince set out for his father’s court, bearing with him a portrait of Muffette.The days passed slowly to Muffette, in spite of her brave efforts to occupy herself and not to sadden other people by her complaints. One morning she was playing on her harp in the queen’s chamber when the king burst into the room and clasped his daughter in his arms with an energy that almost frightened her.‘Oh, my child! my dear child! why were you ever born?’ cried he, as soon as he could speak.‘Is the prince dead?’ faltered Muffette, growing white and cold.‘No, no; but–oh, how can I tell you!’ And he sank down on a pile of cushions while his wife and daughter knelt beside him.At length he was able to tell his tale, and a terrible one it was! There had just arrived at court a huge giant, as ambassador from the dragon by whose help the king had rescued the queen and Muffette from the crystal palace. The dragon had been very busy for many years past, and had quite forgotten the princess till the news of her betrothal reached his ears. Then he remembered the bargain he had made with her father; and the more he heard of Muffette the more he felt sure she would make a delicious dish. So he had ordered the giant who was his servant to fetch her at once.No words would paint the horror of both the queen and the princess as they listened to this dreadful doom. They rushed instantly to the hall, where the giant was awaiting them, and flinging themselves at his feet implored him to take the kingdom if he would, but to have pity on the princess. The giant looked at them kindly, for he was not at all hard- hearted, but said that he had no power to do anything, and that if the princess did not go with him quietly the dragon would come himself.Several days went by, and the king and queen hardly ceased from entreating the aid of the giant, who by this time was getting weary of waiting.‘There is only one way of helping you,’ he said at last, ‘and that is to marry the princess to my nephew, who, besides being young and handsome, has been trained in magic, and will know how to keep her safe from the dragon.’‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ cried the parents, clasping his great hands to their breasts. ‘You have indeed lifted a load from us. She shall have half the kingdom for her dowry.’ But Muffette stood up and thrust them aside.‘I will not buy my life with faithlessness,’ she said proudly; ‘and I will go with you this moment to the dragon’s abode.’ And all her father’s and mother’s tears and prayers availed nothing to move her.The next morning Muffette was put into a litter, and, guarded by the giant and followed by the king and queen and the weeping maids of honour, they started for the foot of the mountain where the dragon had his castle. The way, though rough and stony, seemed all too short, and when they reached the spot appointed by the dragon the giant ordered the men who bore the litter to stand still.‘It is time for you to bid farewell to your daughter,’ said he; ‘for I see the dragon coming to us.’It was true; a cloud appeared to pass over the sun, for between them and it they could all discern dimly a huge body half a mile long approaching nearer and nearer. At first the king could not believe that this was the small beast who had seemed so friendly on the shore of the lake of quicksilver but then he knew very little of necromancy, and had never studied the art of expanding and contracting his body. But it was the dragon and nothing else, whose six wings were carrying him forward as fast as might be, considering his great weight and the length of his tail, which had fifty twists and a half.He came quickly, yes; but the frog, mounted on a greyhound, and wearing her cap on her head, went quicker still. Entering a room where the prince was sitting gazing at the portrait of his betrothed, she cried to him:‘What are you doing lingering here, when the life of the princess is nearing its last moment? In the courtyard you will find a green horse with three heads and twelve feet, and by its side a sword eighteen yards long. Hasten, lest you should be too late!’The fight lasted all day, and the prince’s strength was well-nigh spent, when the dragon, thinking that the victory was won, opened his jaws to give a roar of triumph. The prince saw his chance, and before his foe could shut his mouth again had plunged his sword far down his adversary’s throat. There was a desperate clutching of the claws to the earth, a slow flagging of the great wings, then the monster rolled over on his side and moved no more. Muffette was delivered.After this they all went back to the palace. The marriage took place the following day, and Muffette and her husband lived happy for ever after.
Two Travellers were on the road together, when a Bear suddenly appeared on the scene. Before he observed them, one made for a tree at the side of the road, and climbed up into the branches and hid there. The other was not so nimble as his companion; and, as he could not escape, he threw himself on the ground and pretended to be dead. The Bear came up and sniffed all round him, but he kept perfectly still and held his breath: for they say that a bear will not touch a dead body. The Bear took him for a corpse, and went away. When the coast was clear, the Traveller in the tree came down, and asked the other what it was the Bear had whispered to him when he put his mouth to his ear. The other replied, “He told me never again to travel with a friend who deserts you at the first sign of danger.”Misfortune tests the sincerity of friendship.
Laotsze is really older than heaven and earth put together. He is the Yellow Lord or Ancient, who created this world together with the other four. At various times he has appeared on earth, under various names. His most celebrated incarnation, however, is that of Laotsze, “The Old Child,” which name he was given because he made his appearance on earth with white hair.He acquired all sorts of magic powers by means of which he extended his life-span. Once he hired a servant to do his bidding. He agreed to give him a hundred pieces of copper daily; yet he did not pay him, and finally he owed him seven million, two hundred thousand pieces of copper. Then he mounted a black steer and rode to the West. He wanted to take his servant along. But when they reached the Han-Gu pass, the servant refused to go further, and insisted on being paid. Yet Laotsze gave him nothing.When they came to the house of the guardian of the pass, red clouds appeared in the sky. The guardian understood this sign and knew that a holy man was drawing near. So he went out to meet him and took him into his house. He questioned him with regard to hidden knowledge, but Laotsze only stuck out his tongue at him and would not say a word. Nevertheless, the guardian of the pass treated him with the greatest respect in his home. Laotsze’s servant told the servant of the guardian that his master owed him a great deal of money, and begged the latter to put in a good word for him. When the guardian’s servant heard how large a sum it was, he was tempted to win so wealthy a man for a son-in-law, and he married him to his daughter. Finally the guardian heard of the matter and came to Laotsze together with the servant. Then Laotsze said to his servant: “You rascally servant. You really should have been dead long ago. I hired you, and since I was poor and could give you no money, I gave you a life-giving talisman to eat. That is how you still happen to be alive. I said to you: ‘If you will follow me into the West, the land of Blessed Repose, I will pay you your wages in yellow gold. But you did not wish to do this.’” And with that he patted his servant’s neck. Thereupon the latter opened his mouth, and spat out the life-giving talisman. The magic signs written on it with cinnabar, quite fresh and well-preserved, might still be seen. But the servant suddenly collapsed and turned into a heap of dry bones. Then the guardian of the pass cast himself to earth and pleaded for him. He promised to pay the servant for Laotsze and begged the latter to restore him to life. So Laotsze placed the talisman among the bones and at once the servant came to life again. The guardian of the pass paid him his wages and dismissed him. Then he adored Laotsze as his master, and the latter taught him the art of eternal life, and left him his teachings, in five thousand words, which the guardian wrote down. The book which thus came into being is the Tao Teh King, “The Book of the Way and Life.” Laotsze then disappeared from the eyes of men. The guardian of the pass however, followed his teachings, and was given a place among the immortals.Note: The Taoists like to assert that Laotsze’s journey to the West was undertaken before the birth of Buddha, who, according to many, is only a reincarnation of Laotsze. The guardian of the Han-Gu pass is mentioned by the name of Guan Yin Hi, in the Lia Dsi and the Dschuang Dsi.
Once upon a time, there was a king who had a wife, whose name was Silver-tree, and a daughter, whose name was Gold-tree. On a certain day of the days, Gold-tree and Silver-tree went to a glen, where there was a well, and in it there was a trout.Said Silver-tree, “Troutie, bonny little fellow, am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”“Oh! indeed you are not.”“Who then?”“Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”Silver-tree went home, blind with rage. She lay down on the bed, and vowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and the liver of Gold-tree, her daughter, to eat.At nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that Silver-tree, his wife, was very ill. He went where she was, and asked her what was wrong with her.“Oh! only a thing—which you may heal if you like.”“Oh! indeed there is nothing at all which I could do for you that I would not do.”“If I get the heart and the liver of Gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, I shall be well.”Now it happened about this time that the son of a great king had come from abroad to ask Gold-tree for marrying. The king now agreed to this, and they went abroad.The king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; and she rose well and healthy.A year after this Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well in which there was the trout.“Troutie, bonny little fellow,” said she, “am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”“Oh! indeed you are not.”“Who then?”“Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”“Oh! well, it is long since she was living. It is a year since I ate her heart and liver.”“Oh! indeed she is not dead. She is married to a great prince abroad.”Silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, and said, “I am going to see my dear Gold-tree, for it is so long since I saw her.” The long-ship was put in order, and they went away.It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew the long-ship of her father coming.“Oh!” said she to the servants, “my mother is coming, and she will kill me.”“She shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where she cannot get near you.”This is how it was done; and when Silver-tree came ashore, she began to cry out:“Come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you,” Gold-tree said that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and that she could not get out of it.“Will you not put out,” said Silver-tree, “your little finger through the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss to it?”She put out her little finger, and Silver-tree went and put a poisoned stab in it, and Gold-tree fell dead.When the prince came home, and found Gold-tree dead, he was in great sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury her at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her.In the course of time he married again, and the whole house was under the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always kept the key of that room. On a certain day of the days he forgot to take the key with him, and the second wife got into the room. What did she see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw.She began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisoned stab in her finger. She took the stab out, and Gold-tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever.At the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill, looking very downcast.“What gift,” said his wife, “would you give me that I could make you laugh?”“Oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except Gold-tree were to come alive again.”“Well, you’ll find her alive down there in the room.”When the prince saw Gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and he began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Said the second wife, “Since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick to her, and I will go away.”“Oh! indeed you shall not go away, but I shall have both of you.”At the end of the year, Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well, in which there was the trout.“Troutie, bonny little fellow,” said she, “am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”“Oh! indeed you are not.”“Who then?”“Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”“Oh! well, she is not alive. It is a year since I put the poisoned stab into her finger.”“Oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all.”Silver-tree, went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, for that she was going to see her dear Gold-tree, as it was so long since she saw her. The long-ship was put in order, and they went away. It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew her father’s ship coming.“Oh!” said she, “my mother is coming, and she will kill me.”“Not at all,” said the second wife; “we will go down to meet her.”Silver-tree came ashore. “Come down, Gold-tree, love,” said she, “for your own mother has come to you with a precious drink.”“It is a custom in this country,” said the second wife, “that the person who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first.”Silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struck it so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. They had only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her.The prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased and peaceful.I left them there.
Two Men were buying meat at a Butcher’s stall in the market-place, and, while the Butcher’s back was turned for a moment, one of them snatched up a joint and hastily thrust it under the other’s cloak, where it could not be seen. When the Butcher turned round, he missed the meat at once, and charged them with having stolen it: but the one who had taken it said he hadn’t got it, and the one who had got it said he hadn’t taken it. The Butcher felt sure they were deceiving him, but he only said, “You may cheat me with your lying, but you can’t cheat the gods, and they won’t let you off so lightly.”Prevarication often amounts to perjury.
In the Village of Liver-and-Onions, if one boy goes to the grocery for a jug of molasses it is just like always. And if two boys go to the grocery for a jug of molasses together it is just like always. But if three boys go to the grocery for a jug of molasses each and all together then it is not like always at all, at all.Eeta Peeca Pie grew up with wishes and wishes working inside him. And for every wish inside him he had a freckle outside on his face. Whenever he smiled the smile ran way back into the far side of his face and got lost in the wishing freckles.Meeny Miney grew up with suspicions and suspicions working inside him. And after a while some of the suspicions got fastened on his eyes and some of the suspicions got fastened on his mouth. So when he looked at other people straight in the face they used to say, “Meeny Miney looks so sad-like I wonder if he’ll get by.”Miney Mo was different. He wasn’t sad-like and suspicious like Meeny Miney. Nor was he full of wishes inside and freckles outside like Eeta Peeca Pie. He was all mixed up inside with wishes and suspicions. So he had a few freckles and a few suspicions on his face. When he looked other people straight in the face they used to say, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”So here we have ’em, three boys growing up with wishes, suspicions and mixed-up wishes and suspicions. They all looked different from 111each other. Each one, however, had a secret ambition. And all three had the same secret ambition.An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, “Come and find me, come and find me.”The secret ambition in the heart of Eeta Peeca Pie, Meeney Miney, and Miney Mo was an ambition to go railroading, to ride on railroad cars night and day, year after year. The whistles and the wheels of railroad trains were music to them.Whenever the secret ambition crept in their hearts and made them too sad, so sad it was hard to live and stand for it, they would all three put their hands on each other’s shoulder and sing the song of Joe. The chorus was like this:On the way to Mexico.Came back, broke his back,Sliding on the railroad track.One fine summer morning all three mothers of all three boys gave each one a jug and said, “Go to the grocery and get a jug of molasses.” All three got to the grocery at the same time. And all three went out of the door of the grocery together, each with a jug of molasses together and each with his secret ambition creeping around in his heart, all three together.Two blocks from the grocery they stopped under a slippery elm tree. Eeta Peeca Pie was stretching his neck looking straight up into the slippery elm tree. He said it was always good for his freckles and it helped his wishes to stand under a slippery elm and look up.While he was looking up his left hand let go the jug handle of the jug of molasses. And the jug went ka-flump, ka-flumpety-flump down on the stone sidewalk, cracked to pieces and let the molasses go running out over the sidewalk.If you have never seen it, let me tell you molasses running out of a broken jug, over a stone sidewalk under a slippery elm tree, looks peculiar and mysterious.Eeta Peeca Pie stepped into the molasses with his bare feet. “It’s a lotta fun,” he said. “It tickles all over.” So Meeney Miney and Miney Mo both stepped into the molasses with their bare feet.Then what happened just happened. One got littler. Another got littler. All three got littler.“You look to me only big as a potato bug,” said Eeta Peeca Pie to Meeney Miney and Miney Mo. “It’s the same like you look to us,” said Meeney Miney and Miney Mo to Eeta Peeca Pie. And then because their secret ambition began to hurt them they all stood with hands on each other’s shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song.Off the sidewalk they strolled, across a field of grass. They passed many houses of spiders and ants. In front of one house they saw Mrs. Spider over a tub washing clothes for Mr. Spider.“Why do you wear that frying pan on your head?” they asked her.“In this country all ladies wear the frying pan on their head when they want a hat.”“But what if you want a hat when you are frying with the frying pan?” asked Eeta Peeca Pie.“That never happens to any respectable lady in this country.”“Don’t you never have no new style hats?” asked Meeney Miney.“No, but we always have new style frying pans every spring and fall.”Hidden in the roots of a pink grass clump, they came to a city of twisted-nose spiders. On the main street was a store with a show window full of pink parasols. They walked in and said to the clerk, “We want to buy parasols.”“We don’t sell parasols here,” said the spider clerk.“Well, lend us a parasol apiece,” said all three.“Gladly, most gladly,” said the clerk.“How do you do it?” asked Eeta.“I don’t have to,” answered the spider clerk.“How did it begin?”“It never was otherwise.”“Don’t you never get tired?”“Every parasol is a joy.”“What do you do when the parasols are gone?”“They always come back. These are the famous twisted-nose parasols made from the famous pink grass. You will lose them all, all three. Then they will all walk back to me here in this store on main street. I can not sell you something I know you will surely lose. Neither can I ask you to pay, for something you will forget, somewhere sometime, and when you forget it, it will walk back here to me again. Look—look!”As he said “Look,” the door opened and five pink parasols came waltzing in and waltzed up into the show window.“They always come back. Everybody forgets. Take your parasols and go. You will forget them and they will come back to me.”“He looks like he had wishes inside him,” said Eeta Peeca Pie.“He looks like he had suspicions,” said Meeney Miney.“He looks like he was all mixed up wishes and suspicions,” said Miney Mo.And once more because they all felt lonesome and their secret ambitions were creeping and eating, they put their hands on their shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song.Then came happiness. They entered the Potato Bug Country. And they had luck first of all the first hour they were in the Potato Bug Country. They met a Potato Bug millionaire.“How are you a millionaire?” they asked him.“Because I got a million,” he answered.“A million what?”“A million fleems.”“Who wants fleems?”“You want fleems if you’re going to live here.”“Because fleems is our money. In the Potato Bug Country, if you got no fleems you can’t buy nothing nor anything. But if you got a million fleems you’re a Potato Bug millionaire.”Then he surprised them.“I like you because you got wishes and freckles,” he said to Eeta Peeca Pie, filling the pockets of Eeta with fleems.“And I like you because you got suspicions and you’re sad-like,” he said to Meeney Miney filling Meeney Miney’s pockets full of fleems.“And I like you because you got some wishes and some suspicions and you look mixed up,” he said to Miney Mo, sticking handfuls and handfuls of fleems into the pockets of Miney Mo.Wishes do come true. And suspicions do come true. Here they had been wishing all their lives, and had suspicions of what was going to happen, and now it all came true.With their pockets filled with fleems they rode on all the railroad trains of the Potato Bug Country. They went to the railroad stations and bought tickets for the fast trains and the slow trains and even the trains that back up and run backward instead of where they start to go.On the dining cars of the railroads of the Potato Bug Country they ate wonder ham from the famous Potato Bug Pigs, eggs from the Potato Bug Hens, et cetera.It seemed to them they stayed a long while in the Potato Bug Country, years and years. Yes, the time came when all their fleems were gone. Then whenever they wanted a railroad ride or something to eat or a place to sleep, they put their hands on each other’s shoulders and sang the Mexico Joe song. In the Potato Bug Country they all said the Mexico Joe song was wonderful.One morning while they were waiting to take an express train on the Early Ohio & Southwestern they sat near the roots of a big potato plant under the big green leaves. And far above them they saw a dim black cloud and they heard a shaking and a rustling and a spattering. They did not know it was a man of the Village of Liver-and-Onions. They did not know it was Mr. Sniggers putting paris green on the potato plants.A big drop of paris green spattered down and fell onto the heads and shoulders of all three, Eeta Peeca Pie, Meeny Miney and Miney Mo.Then what happened just happened. They got bigger and bigger—one, two, three. And when they jumped up and ran out of the potato rows, Mr. Sniggers thought they were boys playing tricks.When they got home to their mothers and told all about the jug of molasses breaking on 122the stone sidewalk under the slippery elm tree, their mothers said it was careless. The boys said it was lucky because it helped them get their secret ambitions.And a secret ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, “Come and find me, come and find me.”
There was a little sea fish of good family, the name of which I don’t remember; that the more learned will have to tell you. This little fish had eighteen hundred brothers and sisters, all the same age; they didn’t know their father or mother, so they had to care for themselves and swim about on their own, but that was a lot of fun. They had plenty of water to drink – the entire ocean. They didn’t think about their food; that was sure to come their way. Each did as he pleased; each would have his own story, but then none of them thought about that.The sun shone down into the water, making it light and clear. It was a world full of the strangest creatures, some of them enormously big, with great, horrible mouths that could sallow all the eighteen hundred brothers and sisters, but none of them thought about that, either, for none of them had ever been swallowed.The little ones swam together, close to one another, as the herring and the mackerel swim. As they were swimming along at their best and thinking of nothing in particular, there sank from above, down into the midst of them, with a terrifying noise, a long, heavy thing which seemed to have no end to it; further and further it stretched out, and every one of the small fish that it struck was crushed or got a crack from which he couldn’t recover. All the fishes, the small and the big as well, were thrown into a panic. That heavy, horrible thing sank deeper and deeper and grew longer and longer, extending for miles – through the entire ocean. Fishes and snails, everything that swims, everything that creeps or is driven by the currents, saw this fearful thing, this enormous unknown sea eel that all of a sudden had come from above.What kind of thing was it? Yes, we know! It was the great telegraph cable that people were laying between Europe and America.There were great fear and commotion among all the rightful inhabitants of the ocean where the cable was laid. The flying fish shot up above the surface as high as he could, and the blowfish sped off like a gunshot across the water, for it can do that; other fishes went to the bottom of the ocean with such haste that they reached it long before the telegraph cable was seen down there, and they scared both the codfish and the flounder, who lived peacefully at the bottom of the ocean and ate their neighbors. A couple of the starfish were so frightened that they turned their stomachs inside out, but in spite of that they lived, for they can do that. Many of the lobsters and crabs got out of their fine shells and had to leave their legs behind.In all this fright and confusion, the eighteen hundred brothers and sisters had all become separated, never again to know or even meet each other, excepting ten of them who had remained at the same place; and after these had held themselves still for a couple of hours, they recovered from their first fright and began to be curious. They looked about; they looked up and they looked down, and there in the deep they thought they saw the frightful thing that had scared them, scared everyone, big and little. There it lay along the bottom of the ocean, extending as far as they could see; it was quite thin, but then they didn’t know how thick it could make itself or how strong it was. It lay very quiet, but that, they thought, could be a trick.“Let it lie where it is! It doesn’t concern us,” said the most cautious of the little fish.But the very smallest one of them insisted on gaining some knowledge as to what that thing might be. It had come down from above, so above one could best find out about it.And so they swam up to the surface, where there was calm weather. There they met a dolphin, which is a sort of jumping jack, an ocean rover, that can turn somersaults in the water. As these have eyes to see with, he must have seen what had happened and should know all about it. They inquired, but the dolphin had only been thinking of himself and his somersaults, had seen nothing, and didn’t know what to answer, so he kept quiet and looked proud.Thereupon they turned to the seal who had just ducked down; he was more polite, although seals eat small fishes, for today he had had his fill. He knew a little more than the dolphin.“Many a night I have rested on a wet rock and looked far inland, miles away from here; there live some sneaky creatures who, in their language, are called people; they plot against us, but often we slip away from them, which I know how to do, and that is what the sea eel has done, too. He has been in their power, up there on the earth, for a long, long time, and from there they carried him off on a ship, to bring him across the ocean to a distant land. I saw what trouble they had, but they could manage him, because he had become weak on the earth. They laid him down in coils and circles; I heard how he ‘ringled’ and ‘rangled’ when they put him down, but still he got away from them. They held on to him with all their might; many hands held fast, but still he slipped away from them and reached the bottom; there he lies now, for a while at least, I think.”“He is rather thin!” said all the little fish.“They have starved him,” said the seal, “but he will soon be himself again, fat and big around. I suppose he is the great sea serpent that people are so afraid of and talk so much about. I had never seen him before and never believed he existed, but now I do; I’m sure he’s the sea serpent!” And with that the seal dove down.“How much he knew! How much he talked!” said all the little fish. “We have never been so enlightened before! If only it isn’t all a lie!”“We could swim down and investigate,” said the smallest fish. “On the way, we can hear what others think about it.”“We’re not going to move a fin to find out anything more!” said the others, and swam away.“But I’m going to,” said the smallest, and plunged down into deep water.But the little fish was a considerable distance from the place where “that long sunken thing” lay. He looked and searched in a direction down in the deep water. Never before had he imagined the world to be so big. The herring swam in great masses, each school of them shining like a mighty boat of silver; the mackerel also swam together and looked even more magnificent. There were fishes of all shapes and with markings in all colors. Jellyfish, like half-transparent flowers, simply lay back and let the currents carry them along. Great plants grew up from the bottom of the ocean, as did fathom-high grass and palm-shaped trees, every leaf beset with shining shellfish.At last the little fish saw a long, dark streak way down and swam toward it; but it was neither fish nor cable; it was the gunwale of a large sunken vessel, the upper and lower decks of which had been broken in two by the force of the ocean. The little fish swam inside, where the many people who had perished with the sinking of the ship had since been washed away, except for two – young woman lay stretched out with a little child in her arms. The water rocked them to and fro, and they seemed to be asleep. The little fish became quite frightened, for he didn’t know that they never again could awaken. Seaweed hung like cultivated foliage over the rail above the fair forms of mother and child. It was so quiet there, so lonely. The little fish hurried away as fast as he could, out to where the water was clearer and there were fishes to see. He hadn’t gone far when he met a young and terribly large whale.“Don’t swallow me!” said the little fish. “I’m so small that I’m not even a tiny bite, and it’s a great pleasure for me to live!”“What do you want way down here, where your kind never comes?” asked the whale.So the little fish told of the strange long eel, or whatever that thing was, which had sunk and scared even the most courageous of ocean creatures.“Ho, ho!” said the whale, and drew in such a lot of water that he had to make an enormous waterspout when he came to the surface for a breath. “Ho, ho!” he said, “so that was the thing that tickled my back when I turned around! I thought it was a ship’s mast that I could use for a back-scratcher! However, it wasn’t in this location; no, that thing is much farther out. I’ll investigate it, though; I have nothing else to do.”And so he swam forth, the little fish following, but not too close, for there would be a powerful stream where the big whale shot through the water.They met a shark and an old sawfish. These two had also heard of the strange sea eel that was so long and thin; they hadn’t seen it, but they wanted to.Then a catfish appeared. “I’m coming with you!” he said, and took the same course. “If the great sea serpent isn’t thicker than a cable, then I’ll bite it in two with one bite!” And he opened his mouth and showed his six rows of teeth. “I can bite dents in a ship’s anchor, so I can easily bite through that stem!”“There it is!” said the big whale. “I can see it!” He thought he saw better than the others. “See how it rises, see how it sways, bends, and curves!”However, this was not the sea serpent, but an exceptionally large eel, who was many yards long, and came closer.“I’ve seen him before,” said the sawfish. “He’s never made much fuss in the ocean here or frightened any big fishes.”And so they talked to him about the new eel and asked if he wanted to join them on their voyage of discovery.“If that eel is longer than I,” said the sea eel, “then something unfortunate will happen.”“That it will!” said the others. “There are enough of us not to have to tolerate it.” And then they hurried along.But now, directly in their way, there appeared a strange monster, bigger than them all. It looked like a floating island that could not hold itself up. It was a very old whale. His head was overgrown with seaweed, his back beset with barnacles and so many oysters and mussels that his black skin was entirely covered with white spots.“Come along, old fellow,” they said. “A new fish has come that we will not tolerate!”“I’d rather lie where I am,” said the old whale. “Leave me in peace. Let me lie. Oh, my, oh, my! I suffer from a dreadful sickness. The only relief I have is when I go up to the surface and get my back above it; then the big, nice birds come and pick at me, and that feels so good, as long they don’t drive their beaks in too far; often they go right into my blubber. Just see for yourself! There is a complete skeleton of a bird stuck in my back. That bird struck his claws in too deep and couldn’t get loose when I went down to the bottom. Now the little fishes have eaten him. Just see how he looks, and how I look! I have a sickness!”“That’s just imagination!” said the other whale. “I am never sick. No fish is sick!”“I beg your pardon!” said the old whale. “The eel has a skin disease, the carp has smallpox, and all of us have intestinal worms!”“Nonsense!” said the shark, and didn’t care to hear more; nor did the others; they had something else to do.Finally, they came to the place where the telegraph cable lay. It had a very long resting place indeed at the bottom of the ocean, from Europe to America, over sandbanks and sea mud, rocky formations and sea-plant wilderness, and, yes, entire forests of coral. The currents down there change, and whirlpools twist around; fishes crowd each other and swim in flocks greater than the countless multitudes of birds that people see when birds of passage are in flight. There are a commotion, a splashing, a humming, and a rushing; a little of that rushing still remains to haunt the big, empty conch shells when we hold them to our ears.Yes, now they came to the place.“There lies the animal!” said the big fishes, and the little one said so, too.They saw the cable, its beginning and end beyond their horizon. Sponges, polyps, and seaweed swayed from the ground, rising and falling over the cable, so that now it was hidden and then visible again. Sea porcupines, snails, and worms moved over it. Gigantic spiders, with whole fringes of vermin on them, crawled along the cable. Dark-blue “sea sausages,” or whatever the creatures are called that eat with their entire bodies, lay beside it and smelled this new animal that had come down to lie at the bottom of the ocean. Flounders and codfish turned about in the water, in order to hear what was said from all sides. The starfish, who could hold himself down in the mud and keep his eyes outside, lay and stared to see what would come of all this confusion. The telegraph cable lay motionless. But life and thought were in it; human thoughts went through it.“That thing is cunning,” said the whale. “It’s able to hit me in the stomach, and that’s my weak point!”“Let’s feel our way,” said a polyp. “I have long arms; I have limber fingers. I have touched it. Now I’ll feel it a little more firmly.” And then he stretched his longest and most flexible arms down to the cable and around it. “It has no scales!” said the polyp. “It has no skin! I don’t believe it will ever bear young ones!”The sea eel laid down alongside the telegraph cable and stretched himself as far as he could. “That thing is longer than I am!” he said. “But it isn’t length that counts; one must have skin, stomach, and flexibility! The whale – that is, the young, strong whale – dove down deeper than he ever had been. “Are you a fish or a plant?” he asked the cable. “Or are you only some piece of work from above that can’t thrive down here among us?”But the telegraph cable didn’t answer; it had no means of contacting anyone at such a location. Thoughts were going through it, people’s thoughts, which in a single second were heard from land to land, many hundreds of miles apart.“Will you answer, or do you want to be broken?” asked the fierce shark, and all the other big fishes asked the same. “Will you answer, or do you want to be broken?”The cable didn’t move, but it had its own private thoughts, which it had a right to have, considering that it was filled with other’s thoughts. “Let them break me; then I’ll be hauled up and put in order again – that has happened to others of my kind who were in shallower waters.” And so it didn’t answer; it had something else to do; it telegraphed and thereby did its just duty at the bottom of the sea.Up above, the sun was going down, as people say. It blazed like the reddest fire, and all the clouds in the heavens glowed with a fiery hue, each more magnificent than the other.“Now we’re getting the red lighting,” said the polyps, “and we may be able to see the thing better, if necessary.”“At it! At it!” shouted the shark, showing all his teeth.“At it! At it!” said the swordfish, and the whale, and the sea eel. They rushed forward, the shark leading, but just as he was about to bite the cable, the swordfish, out of pure anxiety, ran his saw right into the back of the shark; that was a great mistake, and the shark had no strength left to bite. Everything became muddled in the mud. Big fishes, little fishes, “sea sausages,” and snails ran into one another, ate each other – clashed and gnashed. The cable lay still and attended to its own business, as one should do.The dark night brooded above; but in the ocean the millions and millions of small living creatures lighted it. Crawfish, not even as big as a pinhead, gave out light. It is quite wondrous, but now that’s the way it is.The ocean creatures looked at the telegraph cable. “What is that thing, and what isn’t it?” Yes, that was the question.Presently an old sea cow appeared. People call these mermaids or mermen. This one was a she, and had a tail and two short arms to splash with; she wore seaweed and parasites over her breasts and head, and she was proud of this.“Are you seeking knowledge and wisdom?” she said. “I am the only one who can give you this; but in return I demand that you guarantee safe pasturage on the bottom of the ocean for me and mine. I am a fish like you are, but I am also a crawling animal, through practice. I am the wisest in the ocean; I know about everything that moves down here and about all that goes on up above. That thing you are pondering over is from above, and whatever falls down from up there is dead, or will be dead, and powerless; let it lie there for what it is. It’s only a man-made invention.“I believe there is more to it than that!” said the little fish.“Hold your tongue, mackerel!” said the big sea cow.“Stickleback!” said the others, and that was even more insulting.And the sea cow explained further to them that this alarming thing, which, as a matter of fact, hadn’t uttered a single sound, was in its entirety nothing more than some new device from the dry land, and she delivered a little lecture about people’s deceitfulness. “They want to catch us,” she said; “that’s all they live for. They stretch out nets for us, and come with bait on hooks to tempt us. That thing there is some sort of big string that they think we are going to bite. They are so stupid! But we are not! Don’t touch that junk; in time it will unravel and all turn to dust and mud. Everything that comes from up there cracks and breaks – is good for nothing!”“Good for nothing!” said the other ocean creatures, and held onto the sea cow’s opinion, so as to have an opinion.The little fish, however, had his own thoughts. “Perhaps that enormously long, thin serpent is the most wonderful fish in the ocean. I have a feeling it is.”“The most wonderful,” say we humans, too, and we say it with knowledge and assurance.The great sea serpent has long been the theme of song and story. It was conceived and born by man’s ingenuity and laid on the bottom of the ocean, stretching from the eastern to the western lands, and carrying messages as swiftly as light flashes from the sun to our earth. It grows, grows in power and length, grows year after year, through all oceans, around the world; it is beneath the stormy seas and the glass-clear waters, where the skipper, as if sailing through transparent air, looks down and sees crowds of fishes resembling many -colored fireworks.Deepest down of all lies the outstretched serpent, a blessed Midgard snake, which bites its own tail as it encircles the earth. Fishes and other sea creatures clash with it; they do not understand that thing from above. People’s thoughts rush noiselessly, in all languages, through the serpent of science, for both good and evil; the most wondrous of the ocean’s wonders is our time’s.
A hawk flying about in the sky one day decided that he would like to marry a hen whom he often saw on earth. He flew down and searched until he found her, and then asked her to become his wife. She at once gave her consent on the condition that he would wait until she could grow wings like his, so that she might also fly high. The hawk agreed to this and flew away, after giving her a ring as an engagement present and telling her to take good care of it.The hen was very proud of the ring and placed it around her neck. The next day, however, she met the cock who looked at her in astonishment and said:“Where did you get that ring? Do you not know that you promised to be my wife? You must not wear the ring of anyone else. Throw it away.”And the hen threw away the beautiful ring.Not long after this the hawk came down bringing beautiful feathers to dress the hen. When she saw him coming she was frightened and ran to hide behind the door, but the hawk called to her to come and see the beautiful dress he had brought her.The hen came out, and the hawk at once saw that the ring was gone.“Where is the ring I gave you?” he asked. “Why do you not wear it?”The hen was frightened and ashamed to tell the truth so she answered:“Oh, sir, yesterday when I was walking in the garden, I met a large snake and he frightened me so that I ran as fast as I could to the house. Then I missed the ring and I searched everywhere but could not find it.”The hawk looked sharply at the hen, and he knew that she was deceiving him. Then he said to her:“I did not believe that you could behave so badly. When you have found the ring I will come down again and make you my wife. But as a punishment for breaking your promise, you must always scratch the ground to look for the ring. And every chicken of yours that I find, I shall snatch away.”Then he flew away, and ever since all the hens throughout the world have been scratching to find the hawk’s ring.
Vart was the name of a boy who was six years old, and Vartoohi was the name of his sister, who was five years of age. Varteni, their dear mother, had died, and Vartan, their father, had brought home a stepmother who had with her a boy of her own four years old. Vartan was a well-to-do farmer, and as he loved his children he brought them nice suits of clothes and dresses, delicious food, pretty toys and many other presents. The stepmother, being a wicked woman, envied the little half-orphans and wished to destroy them that she might secure every good thing for her own child. In order to attain her vile purpose she secretly boiled the seed which her husband was to sow in the field that year. The wheat, of course, did not grow, and as there was no crop, the farmer had to borrow to meet his expenses. The following year she played the same treacherous trick and increased the farmer’s indebtedness so much that the poor man, giving up every hope of the farm, went away to sojourn in other countries to earn money. That was what the wicked woman desired with all her heart. She fed her son with meat and pies, while she gave the half-orphans only a handful of boiled wheat to eat. One day she decided to take Vart and Vartoohi to the river as if to bathe them, and there to drown them. That day the two innocent half-orphans had taken their handful of boiled wheat and were eating it in a corner of the yard. They saw a small sparrow which was jumping and hopping around them, and chirping and chattering as it leaped. Vart wanted to kill it with a stone, but Vartoohi prevented him. As they were eating their poor, scanty meal, they listened to the little birdie, and lo! they thought they could understand what it was chirping.“Orphans, orphans! good little orphans!” the little sparrow was saying, “give me a few grains which I may take to my little ones in my tiny nest and I will give you good counsel.”The children cast a few grains to the bird, which after taking them to its nest came back, saying:“Orphans, run! orphans, run! your stepmother will to-day take you to the river to drown you. Run, orphans, run!”“Sparrow.” Illustration by Leon Foster Jones, published in Monkey Shines by Bolton Hall (1904), A. Wessels Company.And the little sparrow flew away. Soon the stepmother came, saying:“Get up, you dirty things! we will go to the river, where I may bathe you.”“You go first, mamma; we will come by and by,” answered the orphans.And following the advice of their little feathered friend they ran away to the mountains. The stepmother never searched for them, and the two children wandered in the forest until evening. At nightfall they entered the hollow trunk of an old sycamore tree, repeated the prayer which they had learned from their dead mother, and lay down to sleep embracing one another. Soon after daybreak the faithful sparrow came, and the two children waking heard it chirp to them:“Orphans, good orphans, come and eat; there is boiled wheat for you.”They immediately got up and ran after the sparrow, which led them until they came where an old woman brought a kettleful of boiled wheat, and emptying it under a tree, went away. A great many little sparrows were gathered; the two half-orphans sat with them at the table. The good old woman used to bring the kettleful of wheat and empty it under that tree day after day. She did this in memory of her children and grandchildren, who had died when they were young boys and girls, and whom she had loved very much. She believed that these little birdies were the spirits of her dead little ones. So these two half-orphans lived with the little sparrows for a long time.One day as the Prince was hunting in the forest he met Vart and Vartoohi, took them with him to the palace, loved them and adopted them as his son and daughter. The children were so pretty and amiable that all the court loved them dearly. But Vart and Vartoohi were not happy.“What is the matter with you, my children?” asked the Prince; “what is the cause of your grief?”“We long to see our dear papa who has gone away,” answered Vart.“And we long to see the little sparrow, our benefactor,” added Vartoohi.The Prince sent out men in search of Vartan, the father of the children; and finding him, brought him home. He punished his wife for her wickedness, and embraced his children. The Prince kept him also, as a messenger in the court. But who could find the sparrow? It came by itself one day, and alighting on the window where the orphans were, chirped:“You blessed little orphans, you pitied my little ones and gave me grain, and lo! Heaven has bestowed upon you so many bounties. May you continue to be blessed and to be happy.”The Prince liked the little sparrow for its good services and permitted it to build its nest thereafter under the eaves of the palace. All sparrows which at the present time build their nests under the eaves of houses are the descendants of that good sparrow. Let us be good even to the sparrows and they may bring good to us.
A Troutling, some time since,Endeavour’d vainly to convinceA hungry fishermanOf his unfitness for the frying-pan.The fisherman had reason good—The troutling did the best he could—Both argued for their lives.Now, if my present purpose thrives,I’ll prop my former propositionBy building on a small addition.A certain wolf, in point of witThe prudent fisher’s opposite,A dog once finding far astray,Prepared to take him as his prey.The dog his leanness pled;“Your lordship, sure,” he said,“Cannot be very eagerTo eat a dog so meagerTo wait a little do not grudge:The wedding of my master’s only daughterWill cause fat calves and fowls a slaughter;And then, as you yourself can judge,I cannot help becoming fatter.”The wolf, believing, waived the matter,And so, some days therefrom,Return’d with sole design to seeIf fat enough his dog might be.The rogue was now at home:He saw the hunter through the fence.“My friend,” said he, “please wait;I’ll be with you a moment hence,And fetch our porter of the gate.”This porter was a dog immense,That left to wolves no future tense.Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,—It might not be so safely tamper’d.“My service to your porter dog,”Was his reply, as off he scamper’d.His legs proved better than his head,And saved him life to learn his trade.
In ancient days there lived a king and queen; the former was old but the latter young. Although they loved one another dearly they were very unhappy, for God had not given them any children. They fretted and grieved about this so deeply that the queen became ill with melancholy. The doctors advised her to travel. The king was obliged to remain at home, so she went without him, accompanied by twelve maids of honour, all beautiful and fresh as flowers in May. When they had travelled for some days, they reached a vast uninhabited plain which stretched so far away it seemed to touch the sky. After driving hither and thither for some time the driver was quite bewildered, and stopped before a large stone column. At its foot stood a warrior on horseback, clad in steel armour.“Brave knight, can you direct me to the high-road?” said the driver; “we are lost, and know not which way to go.”“I will show you the way,” said the warrior, “but only on one condition, that each of you gives me a kiss.”The queen looked at the warrior in wrath, and ordered the coachman to drive on. The carriage continued moving nearly all day, but as if bewitched, for it always returned to the stone column. This time the queen addressed the warrior.“Knight,” said she, “show us the road, and I will reward you richly.”“I am the Master Spirit of the Steppes,” answered he. “I demand payment for showing the way, and my payment is always in kisses.”“Very well, my twelve maids of honour shall pay you.”“Thirteen kisses are due to me; the first must be given by the lady who addresses me.”The queen was very angry, and again the attempt was made to find their way. But the carriage, though during the whole time it moved in an opposite direction, still returned to the stone column. It was now dark, and they were obliged to think of finding shelter for the night, so the queen was obliged to give the warrior his strange payment. Getting out of her carriage she walked up to the knight, and looking modestly down allowed him to kiss her; her twelve maids of honour who followed did the same. A moment later stone column and horseman had vanished, and they found themselves on the high-road, while a perfumed cloud seemed to float over the steppes. The queen stepped into her carriage with her ladies, and so the journey was continued.But from that day the beautiful queen and her maids became thoughtful and sad; and, losing all pleasure in travel, went back to the capital. Yet the return home did not make the queen happy, for always before her eyes she saw the Horseman of the Steppes. This displeased the king, who became gloomy and ill-tempered.One day while the king was on his throne in the council chamber he suddenly heard the sweetest warblings, like unto those produced by a bird of paradise; these were answered by the songs of many nightingales. Wondering, he sent to find out what it was. The messenger returned saying that the queen and her twelve maids of honour had each been presented with a girl baby, and that the sweet warblings were but the crying of the children. The king was greatly astonished, and while he was engaged in deep thought about the matter the palace was suddenly lit up by lights of dazzling brightness. On inquiring into the cause he learnt that the little princess had opened her eyes, and that they shone with matchless brilliancy.At first the king could not speak, so amazed was he. He laughed and he cried, he sorrowed and he rejoiced, and in the midst of it all a deputation of ministers and senators was announced. When these were shown into his presence they fell on their knees, and striking the ground with their foreheads, said, “Sire, save your people and your royal person. The queen and her twelve maids of honour have been presented by the Spirit of the Steppes with thirteen girl babies. We beseech you to have these children killed, or we shall all be destroyed.”The king, roused to anger, gave orders that all the babies should be thrown into the sea. The courtiers were already on their way to obey this cruel command when the queen entered, weeping, and pale as death. She threw herself at the king’s feet and begged him to spare the lives of these helpless and innocent children, and instead to let them be placed on a desert island and there left in the hands of God.The king granted her wish. The baby princess was placed in a golden cradle, her little companions in copper cradles, and the thirteen were taken to a desert island and left quite alone. Every one at court thought that they had perished, and said one to another, “They will die from cold and hunger; they will be devoured by wild beasts, or birds of prey; they are sure to die; perchance they will be buried under dead leaves or covered with snow.” But happily nothing of the kind happened, for God takes care of little children.The small princess grew bigger day by day. Every morning she was awakened by the rising sun, and bathed by the dew. Soft breezes refreshed her, and twisted into plaits her luxuriant hair. The trees sang her to sleep with their rustling lullabies, the stars watched over her at night. The swans clothed her in their soft raiment, and the bees fed her with their honey. The beauty of the little maiden increased with her growth. Her brow was calm and pure as the moon, her lips red as a rosebud, and so eloquent that her voice sounded like a shower of pearls. But wonderful beyond compare was the expressive beauty of her eyes, for if she looked at you kindly you seemed to float in a sea of joy, if angrily it made you numb with fear, and you were instantly changed into a block of ice. She was waited upon by her twelve companions, who were almost as charming as their mistress, to whom they were devotedly attached. Rumours of the loveliness of Princess Sudolisu spread far and wide. People came to see her from all parts of the world, so that it was soon no longer a desert island, but a thickly populated and magnificent city.Many a prince came from afar and entered the lists as suitor for the hand of Sudolisu, but none succeeded in winning her love. Those who bore with good temper and resignation the disappointment of being refused returned home safe and sound, but woe to the unlucky wretch who rebelled against her will and attempted to use an armed force; his soldiers perished miserably, while he, frozen to the heart by her angry glance, was turned into a block of ice.Now it happened that the famous ogre, Kostey, who lived underground, was a great admirer of beauty. And he took it into his head to see what the creatures above ground were doing. By the help of his telescope he was able to observe all the kings and queens, princes and princesses, gentlemen and ladies, living on the earth. As he was looking his eye fell upon a beautiful island, where, bright as many stars, stood twelve maidens; while in their midst, upon a couch of swan’s-down, slept a young princess lovely as the dawn of day. Sudolisu was dreaming of a young knight who rode a spirited horse; on his breast was a golden cuirass, and in his hand an invisible club. And in her dream she admired this knight, and loved him more than life itself. The wicked Kostey longed to have her for his own, and determined to carry her off. He reached the earth by striking it from underground three times with his forehead. The princess called her army together, and putting herself at its head, led her soldiers against him. But he merely breathed upon the soldiers and they fell down in an overpowering sleep. Then he stretched out his bony hands to take the princess, but she, throwing a glance full of anger and disdain at him, changed him into a block of ice. Then she shut herself up in her palace. Kostey did not remain frozen long; when the princess had departed he came to life again, and started off in pursuit of her. On reaching the town where she dwelt, he put all the inhabitants into a charmed sleep, and laid the same spell upon the twelve maids of honour. Fearing the power of her eyes, he dared not attack Sudolisu herself; so he surrounded her palace with an iron wall, and left it in charge of a monster dragon with twelve heads. Then he waited, in hope that the princess would give in.Days passed, weeks grew into months, and still Princess Sudolisu’s kingdom looked like one large bedchamber. The people snored in the streets, the brave army lying in the fields slept soundly, hidden in the long grass under the shadow of nettle, wormwood, and thistle, rust and dust marring the brightness of their armour. Inside the palace everything was the same. The twelve maids of honour lay motionless. The princess alone kept watch, silent amid this reign of sleep. She walked up and down her narrow prison, sighing and weeping bitter tears, but no other sound broke the silence; only Kostey, avoiding her glance, still called through the doors and begged her to refuse him no longer. Then he promised she should be Queen of the Nether World, but she answered him not.Lonely and miserable, she thought of the prince of her dreams. She saw him in his golden armour, mounted on his spirited steed, looking at her with eyes full of love. So she imagined him day and night.Looking out of window one day, and seeing a cloud floating on the horizon, she cried:“Floating Cloudlet soft and white,Pilgrim of the sky,I pray you for one moment, lightOn me your pitying eye.Where my love is can you tell?Thinks he of me ill or well?”“I know not,” answered the cloud, “ask the wind.”Then she saw a tiny breeze playing among the field flowers, and called out:“Gentle Breezelet, soul of air,Look not lightly on my pain;Kindly lift me from despair,Help me freedom to regain.Where my love is can you tell?Thinks he of me ill or well?”“Ask that little star yonder,” answered the breeze, “she knows more than I.”Sudolisu raised her beautiful eyes to the twinkling stars and said:“Shining Star, God’s light on high,Look down and prithee see;Behold me weep and hear me sigh,Then help and pity me.Where my love is canst thou tell?Thinks he of me ill or well?”“You will learn more from the moon,” answered the star; “she lives nearer the earth than I, and sees everything that goes on there.”The moon was just rising from her silver bed when Sudolisu called to her:“Pearl of the Sky, thou radiant Moon,Thy watch o’er the stars pray leave,Throw thy soft glance o’er the earth ere I swoon,O’ercome by my sorrows I weep and I grieve.I pine for my friend, oh ease thou my heart,And say, am I loved? In his thoughts have I part?”“Princess,” replied the moon, “I know nothing of your friend. But wait a few hours, the sun will have then risen; he knows everything, and will surely be able to tell you.”So the princess kept her eyes fixed upon that part of the sky where the sun first appears, chasing away the darkness like a flock of birds. When he came forth in all his glory she said:“Soul of the World, thou deep fountain of life,Eye of all-powerful God,Visit my prison, dark scene of sad strife,Raise up my soul from the sod,With hope that my friend whom I pine for and loveMay come to my rescue. Say, where does he rove?”“Sweet Sudolisu,” answered the sun, “dry the tears that like pearls roll down your sad and lovely face. Let your troubled heart be at peace, for your friend the prince is now on his way to rescue you. He has recovered the magic ring from the Nether World, and many armies from those countries have assembled to follow him. He is now moving towards Kostey’s palace, and intends to punish him. But all this will be of no avail, and Kostey will gain the victory, if the prince does not make use of other means which I am now on my way to provide him with. Farewell; be brave, he whom you love will come to your aid and save you from Kostey and his sorceries; happiness is in store for you both.”The sun then rose upon a distant land where Prince Junak, mounted on a powerful steed and clad in golden armour, assembled his forces to fight against the giant Kostey. Thrice he had dreamt of the beautiful princess shut up in the Sleeping Palace, for the fame of her loveliness had reached him, and he loved without having seen.“Leave your army where it is,” said the sun, “it will not be of the slightest use in fighting against Kostey, he is proof against all weapons. The only way to rescue the princess is to kill him, and there is but one who can tell you how to do it, and that is the witch, old Yaga. I will show you how to find the horse that will carry you straight to her. First take the road to the east, and walk on till you come to a wide plain: there, right in the middle of the plain, are three oaks, and in the centre of these, lying close to the ground, is an iron door with a copper handle. Behind the door is the horse, also an invisible club; both are necessary for the work you have to do. You will learn the rest afterwards. Farewell.”This advice astonished the prince greatly; he hardly knew what to do. After deep reflection he crossed himself, took the magic ring from his finger and cast it into the sea. Instantly the army vanished like mist before the wind, and when not a trace of it was left he took the road to the east. After walking straight on for eight days he reached a large green plain, in the middle of which grew the three oaks, and in the centre of these, close to the ground, was the iron door with the copper handle. Opening the door, he found a winding staircase which led to a second door bound with iron, and shut by means of a huge padlock sixty pounds in weight. At this moment he heard the neighing of a horse, the sound being followed by the opening of eleven other iron doors. There he saw the war-horse which centuries ago had been bewitched by a magician. The prince whistled; the horse immediately bounded towards him, at the same time breaking the twelve iron chains that fastened him to the manger. He was a beautiful creature, strong, light, handsome, full of fire and grace; his eyes flashed lightnings, from his nostrils came flames of fire, his mane was like a cloud of gold, he was certainly a marvel of a horse.“Prince Junak,” said the steed, “I have waited centuries for such a knight as you; here I am, ready to carry you and serve you faithfully. Mount upon my back, and take hold of the invisible club that hangs at the pommel of the saddle. You yourself will not need to use it; give it your orders, it will carry them out and do the fighting itself. Now we will start; may God look after us! Tell me where you wish to go, and you shall be there directly.”The prince quickly told the horse his history, mounted, seized the club, and set off. The creature capered, galloped, flew, and swam in the air higher than the highest forests but lower than the clouds; he crossed mountains, rivers, and precipices; he barely touched the blades of grass in passing over them, and went so lightly along the roads that he did not raise one grain of dust.Towards sunset Junak found himself close to an immense forest, in the centre of which stood Yaga’s house. All around were oaks and pines hundreds of years old, untouched by the axe of man. These enormous trees, lit up by the rays of the setting sun, seemed to look with astonishment at their strange guest. The silence was absolute; not a bird sang in the branches, not an insect hummed in the air, not a worm crawled upon the ground. The only sound was that made by the horse as he broke through the underwood. Then they came in sight of a small house supported by a cock’s foot, round which it turned as on a movable pivot. Prince Junak cried:“Turn round, little house, turn round,I want to come inside;Let thy back to the forest be found,Thy door to me open wide.”The little house turned round, and the prince entering saw old Yaga, who immediately cried out, “What, Prince Junak! How have you come here, where no one ever enters?”“You are a silly old witch, to worry me with questions instead of making me welcome,” said the prince.At these words old Yaga jumped up and hastened to attend to his needs. She prepared food and drink, made him a soft bed where he could sleep comfortably, and then leaving the house passed the night out of doors. On her return in the morning the prince related all his adventures and confided his plans.“Prince Junak,” said she, “you have undertaken a very difficult task, but your courage will enable you to accomplish it successfully. I will tell you how to kill Kostey, for without that you can do nothing. Now, in the very midst of the ocean lies the Island of Eternal Life. Upon this island is an oak tree, and at the foot of it, hidden in the earth, a coffer bound with iron. A hare is shut up in this coffer, and under her sits a grey duck whose body contains an egg. Within this egg is Kostey’s life—if it be broken he dies. Good-bye, Prince Junak, start without loss of time. Your horse will carry you to the island.”Junak mounted his horse, spoke a few words to him, and the brave creature fled through space with the swiftness of an arrow. Leaving the forest and its enormous trees behind, they soon reached the shores of the ocean. Fishermen’s nets lay on the beach, and in one of them was a large sea fish who, struggling to free itself, spoke to the prince in a human voice.“Prince Junak,” he said sadly, “free me from my prison; I assure you you will lose nothing by doing me this service.”Junak did what was required of him, and threw the fish back into the water. It plunged and disappeared, but he paid little attention to it, so occupied was he with his own thoughts. In the far distance could be seen the rocks of the Island of Eternal Life, but there seemed no way of reaching it. Leaning on his club he thought and thought, and ever as he thought he grew sadder and sadder.“What is the matter, Prince Junak? Has anything vexed you?” asked his horse.“How can I help grieving when, while in sight of the island, I can go no further? How can we cross the sea?”“Get on my back, prince, I will be your bridge; only take care to hold on tight.”The prince held firmly to its mane, and the horse leapt into the sea. At first they were plunged right beneath the waves, but rising again to the surface swam easily across. The sun was about to set when the prince dismounted on the Island of Eternal Life. He first took off his horse’s harness, and leaving him to browse on the green grass, hurried to the top of a distant hill, whence he could see a large oak. Without losing a moment he hastened towards it, seized the tree with both hands, pulled at it with all his might, and after the most violent efforts tore it up by the roots from the place it had filled for centuries. The tree groaned and fell, and the hole in which it had been planted appeared like an immense case. Right at the bottom of this case was a coffer bound with iron. The prince took it up, broke the lock by striking it with a stone, opened it and seized the hare that was trying to make its escape. The grey duck that had lain underneath flew off towards the sea: the prince fired, struck the bird, the latter dropped its egg into the sea, and both were swallowed by the waves. Junak gave a cry of despair and rushed to the beach. At first he could see nothing. After a few minutes there was a slight movement of the waves, while upon the surface swam the fish whose life he had saved. It came towards him, right on to the sand, and dropping the lost egg at his feet, said: “You see, prince, I have not forgotten your kindness, and now I have found it in my power to be of service to you.”Having thus spoken it disappeared in the water. The prince took the egg, mounted his horse, and crossing the sea with his heart full of hope, journeyed towards the island where Princess Sudolisu kept watch over her sleeping subjects in the Enchanted Palace. The latter was surrounded by a wall, and guarded by the Dragon with Twelve Heads. Now these heads went to sleep in turn, six at a time, so it was impossible to take him unawares or to kill him, for that could be done only by his own blows.On reaching the palace gates Junak sent his invisible club forward to clear the way, whereupon it threw itself upon the dragon, and began to beat all the heads unmercifully. The blows came so thick and fast that the body was soon crushed to pieces. Still the dragon lived and beat the air with its claws. Then it opened its twelve jaws from which darted pointed tongues, but it could not lay hold of the invisible club. At last, tormented on all sides and filled with rage, it buried its sharp claws in its own body and died. The prince then entered the palace gates, and having put his faithful horse in the stables and armed himself with his invisible club, made his way for the tower in which the princess was shut up. On seeing him she cried out, “Prince, I rejoiced to see your victory over the dragon. There is yet a more terrible foe to conquer, and he is my jailor, the cruel Kostey. Beware of him, for if he should kill you, I shall throw myself out of window into the precipice beneath.”“Be comforted, my princess: for in this egg I hold the life or death of Kostey.”Then turning to the invisible club, he said, “Press forward, my invisible club; strike your best, and rid the earth of this wicked giant.”The club began by breaking down the iron doors, and thus reached Kostey. The giant was soon so crippled with blows that his teeth were smashed, lightnings flashed from his eyes, and he rolled round and round like a pin-cushion. Had he been a man he must have died under such treatment. But he was no man, this master of sorcery. So he managed to get on his feet and look for his tormentor. The blows from the club rained hard upon him all the time, and with such effect that his groans could be heard all over the island. On approaching the window he saw Prince Junak.“Ah, wretch!” cried the ogre, “it is you, is it, who torments me in this way!” and he prepared to blow upon him with his poisonous breath. But the prince instantly crushed the egg between his hands, the shell broke, the white and yellow mingled and flowed to the ground, and Kostey died.As the sorcerer breathed his last, the enchantments vanished and the sleeping islanders awoke. The army, once more afoot, advanced with beating drums to the palace, and everything fell into its accustomed place. As soon as Princess Sudolisu was freed from her prison she held out her white hand to her deliverer, and thanking him in the most touching words, led him to the throne and placed him at her side. The twelve maids of honour having chosen young and brave warriors, ranged themselves with their lovers round the queen. Then the doors were thrown open, and the priests in their robes entered, bearing a golden tray of wedding rings. Thereupon the marriage ceremony was gone through, and the lovers united in God’s name.After the wedding there were feasting and music and dancing, as is usual on such occasions, and they all enjoyed themselves. It makes one glad to think how happy they were, and what a glorious time they had after their misfortunes.
The gods feared that the frost giants would invade Asgard while Thor was away fighting monsters. Often they spoke together of the danger. One day Loke advised them to hire a workman whom he knew, to build a fort strong enough to keep out the frost giants. The gods listened to him, although they knew he seldom gave good advice. The workman was brought into Asgard. Very strange wages he demanded. He said he would build the fort if they would give him Freyja, or the sun and moon, when it was finished. The gods agreed to this. But they said he should have nothing if the fort were not finished by the first day of summer. The workman said he would do the work if he could have Svadilf are, his horse, to draw the stones. On the first day of winter he began the work, and worked night and day. At this the gods were frightened. They feared the fort would be finished on the first day of summer. Sure enough, three days before the first day of summer only one pillar was unfinished. Seeing this, the gods threatened to kill Loke if he did not find a way out of the difficulty. They could not give Freyja. If they gave the sun and moon, everything would be in darkness. But on the last night Loke changed himself into a monster and ran out of the woods before Svadilfare. The horse was so frightened that he ran away. The workman was forced to go after him. So the fort was not finished. Seeing that he could not get his reward, the workman became a giant, as he really was, and Thor struck him dead with his hammer.
A PARTY of Senecas went hunting. When they had killed many deer and were ready to go home, they didn’t know what to do with a little boy whose father and mother had died while they had been in the forest.The hunters had so much meat they couldn’t carry the boy and he couldn’t walk so far. At last they decided to leave him in the cabin, leaving plenty of wood and meat.The child cried bitterly and begged to go, but they left him.When the hunters reached home and the report went around that the child had been left in the woods, every one thought it would die.After some days the chief sent a man to see if the child was alive.As soon as the messenger was outside of the village, he changed himself into a bear.The little boy kept a fire, cooked meat, and lived. One cold night he began to cry; the meat was almost gone and the wood was burned up. While crying he heard some one come to the door. After making a noise, as if shaking A snow, a man said, “Little boy, you think you are going I o die, you are not. I am going to take care of you. The chief has sent a man to see if you are alive, but he will not be here for a long time. I will be your friend. When you want me think of me and I will come.”The man went away and the boy fell asleep. In the morning he found a pile of wood at the door, and on a low limb of a tree hung a piece of deer meat. Now he was happy; he built a fire and cooked some of the meat.The next night the man came again; he stopped at the door, and shook his feet, as if shaking off snow, but he didn’t go in. He called to the boy, and said, “The man who is coming won’t help you; he has taken the form of a bear. He will be here at midday, to-morrow. In the morning you will find, between the roots of the old stump near the door, a rusty knife. Sharpen it and kill the bear. When you hear him coming, run to the spring where the tall hemlock stands, and climb the tree; the bear will follow you. Slip down on the other side and as he is coming down stab him in the forefoot.”The boy did as the voice told him. When he had killed the bear, he went back to the cabin. The next night the stranger came to the door, and said, “My friend, men are coming for you. Go home with them, they will be good to you. The chief will adopt you and you will become the swiftest runner living, but don’t be proud and boast of your power. I am your friend but you will never see me. I am the one who is called GÉHA (Wind). If you are in trouble think of me and I will help you. When the men come they will ask about the messenger the chief sent, you will say, ‘I haven’t seen a man, but one morning a strong wind went through the woods.'”The next day four men came with food for the boy. They saw that he had wood and meat, but no bow or arrow. He went home with the men and the chief had him brought to his own house, for the child’s relatives were all dead.The chief said, “You will be my grandson and live with me.” When they gave the boy a bow and arrows, he asked for a club.“What do you want of a club?” asked the chief.“To kill deer.”The chief had a club made for him. He chased deer, overtook them hit them on the head and killed them. He killed bird’s before they could fly away. GÉHA had told him he would be the swiftest runner living and he always had that in mind. When he saw boys running he laughed, and thought, “That running is nothing. I can run faster than any boy living.”One night some one struck on the door near the boy’s bed and a man called out, “Who is in here?”“I am,” answered the boy.“Well, I challenge you to run a race with me. You think you are the swiftest runner in the world. We will start from the second mountain and run from sunrise till sundown.”In the morning the boy asked the chief, whom he called Grandfather,” if in the night he had heard some one talking outside.“I did not,” answered the chief.“Well, a man came and challenged me to run a race,”“I don’t think it was a man,” said the chief; “it must have been a beast and I am afraid you will get killed.”“I’ve been challenged, and I must go,” said the boy. “I must be ready the third morning from this.”He made ten pairs of moccasins, put flint in his arrows, and parched corn to eat. On the third morning he started, When near the appointed place he saw a dark mass. At first he didn’t know what it was, but when daylight came he saw it was a great bear.When the sun appeared, the bear said, “Now, we’ll start.”He leaped across the valley and on to the first mountain; where he struck the ground sank. He leaped from mountain to mountain, but the boy had to run through the valleys.At midday the bear was ahead and the boy thought, am lost. I wish my friend GÉHA would come.”That minute GÉHA came as a whirlwind and carried the boy far ahead of the bear. As GÉHA traveled he threw down trees and that delayed the bear for it had to jump over them.At last the bear’s strength gave out and he called to the boy that he might have his life.The boy killed the bear, then he burned tobacco to friend GÉHA and asked to be taken home, GÉHA carried him in a whirlwind and put him down in front of the chief’s house.“I have come, Grandfather,” said the boy, “I have killed bear. You must send men to bring it home.”The chief sent eight men. They were twenty days going and twenty returning, the boy wasn’t half a day, for GÉHA had carried him over the woods and under the clouds.
There was once a good-looking girl, the daughter of well-off country folk, who was loved by an honest young fellow named John. He courted her for a long time, and at last got her and her parents to consent to his marrying her, which was to come off in a few weeks’ time.One day as the girl’s father was working in his garden he sat down to rest himself by the well, and, looking in, and seeing how deep it was, he fell a-thinking.“If Jane had a child,” said he to himself, “who knows but that one day it might play about here and fall in and be killed?”The thought of such a thing filled him with sorrow, and he sat crying into the well for some time until his wife came to him.“What is the matter?” asked she. “What are you crying for?”Then the man told her his thoughts—“If Jane marries and has a child,” said he, “who knows but it might play about here and some day fall into the well and be killed?”“Alack!” cried the woman, “I never thought of that before. It is, indeed, possible.”So she sat down and wept with her husband.As neither of them came to the house the daughter shortly came to look for them, and when she found them sitting crying into the well—“What is the matter?” asked she. “Why do you weep?”So her father told her of the thought that had struck him.“Yes,” said she, “it might happen.”So she too sat down with her father and mother, and wept into the well.They had sat there a good while when John comes to them.“What has made you so sad?” asked he.So the father told him what had occurred, and said that he should be afraid to let him have his daughter seeing her child might fall into the well.“You are three fools,” said the young man, when he had heard him to an end, and leaving them, he thought over whether he should try to get Jane for his wife or not. At length he decided that he would marry her if he could find three people more foolish than her and her father and mother. He put on his boots and went out.“I will walk till I wear these boots out,” said he, “and if I find three more foolish people before I am barefoot, I will marry her.”So he went on, and walked very far till he came to a barn, at the door of which stood a man with a shovel in his hands. He seemed to be working very hard, shovelling the air in at the door.“What are you doing?” asked John.“I am shovelling in the sunbeams,” replied the man, “to ripen the corn.”“Why don’t you have the corn out in the sun for it to ripen it?” asked John.“Good,” said the man. “Why, I never thought of that! Good luck to you, for you have saved me many a weary day’s work.”“That’s fool number one,” said John, and went on.He travelled a long way, until one day he came to a cottage, against the wall of it was placed a ladder, and a man was trying to pull a cow up it by means of a rope, one end of which was round the cow’s neck.“What are you about?” asked John.“Why,” replied the man, “I want the cow up on the roof to eat off that fine tuft of grass you see growing there.”“Why don’t you cut the grass and give it to the cow?” asked John.“Why, now, I never thought of that!” answered the man. “So I will, of course, and many thanks, for many a good cow have I killed in trying to get it up there.”“That’s fool number two,” said John to himself.He walked on a long way, thinking there were more fools in the world than he had thought, and wondering what would be the next one he should meet. He had to wait a long time, however, and to walk very far, and his boots were almost worn out before he found another.One day, however, he came to a field, in the middle of which he saw a pair of trousers standing up, being held up by sticks. A man was running about them and jumping over and over them.“Hullo!” cried John. “What are you about?”“Why,” said the man, “what need is there to ask? Don’t you see I want to get the trousers on?” so saying he took two or three more runs and jumps, but always jumped either to this side or that of the trousers.“Why don’t you take the trousers and draw them on?” asked John.“Good,” said the man. “Why, I never thought of it! Many thanks. I only wish you had come before, for I have lost a great deal of time in trying to jump into them.”“That,” said John, “is fool number three.”So, as his boots were not yet quite worn out, he returned to his home and went again to ask Jane of her father and mother. At last they gave her to him, and they lived very happily together, for John had a rail put round the well and the child did not fall into it.
A Boy put his hand into a pitcher full of filberts. He grasped as many as he could possibly hold, but when he tried to pull out his hand, he was prevented from doing so by the neck of the pitcher. Unwilling to lose his filberts, and yet unable to withdraw his hand, he burst into tears and bitterly lamented his disappointment. A bystander said to him, “Be satisfied with half the quantity, and you will readily draw out your hand.”Do not attempt too much at once.
A weary woman was Hina, and as the years grew on her she grew more and more weary. All day she sat outside her house beating out tapas for clothes for her family, making cloths out of the bark of a tree by beating it on a board with a mallet. Weary indeed was Hina with making tapas all the day outside her house. And when she might see no more to beat out the tapas , she would have to get her calabash and bring water to the house. Often she would stumble in the dark, coming back with her calabash of water. There was no one in her house to help her. Her son went sailing from island to island, robbing people, and her daughter went to live with the wild people in the forest. Her husband had become bad tempered, and he was always striving to make her do more and more work.As Hina grew old she longed more and more to go to a place where she might sit and rest herself. And one day, when she was given a new task and was sent to fish up shrimps amongst the rocks with a net, she cried out, “Oh, that I might go away from this place, and to a place where I might stay and rest myself.”“It made an arching path for her from the rocks up to the heavens. With the net in her hands she went along that path.” Illustration by Juliette May Fraser, published in At the Gateways of the Day by Padraic Colum (1924), Oxford University Press.The Rainbow heard Hina and had pity on her. It made an arching path for her from the rocks up to the heavens. With the net in her hands she went along that path. She thought she would go up to the heavens and then over to the Sun, and that she would go into the Sun and rest herself there.She went higher and higher along the arch of the Rainbow. But as she went on, the rays of the Sun beat on her more and more strongly. She held the net over her head and went on and on. But when she went beyond the clouds and there was nothing to shelter her, the rays of the Sun burnt her terribly. On and on she went, but as she went higher she could only crawl along the path. Then the fire of the Sun’s rays began to torture her and shrivel her. She could go no farther, and, slipping back along the Rainbow arch, she came to earth again.It was dark now. She stood outside her house and saw her husband coming back from the pool with a calabash of water, stumbling and saying ill-tempered words about her. And when she showed herself to him he scolded because she had not been there to bring the calabash of water to the house.Now that the Sun was gone down and his rays were no longer upon her , her strength came back to Hina. She looked up into the sky , and she saw the full Moon there, and she said: “To the Moon I will go. It is very quiet, and there I can sit for a long, long time and rest myself. ”But first she went into the house for the calabash that held all the things that on earth were precious to her. She came out of her house carrying the calabash, and there before her door was a moon-rainbow.Her husband came and asked her where she was going; because she carried her calabash he knew she was going far. “I am going to the Moon, to a place where I can rest myself, ” she said. She began to climb along the arch of the Rainbow. And now she was almost out of her husband’ s reach. But he sprang up and caught her foot in his hand. He fell back, twisting and breaking her foot as he fell.But Hina went on. She was lamed, and she was filled with pain; and yet she rejoiced as she went along through the quiet night. On and on she went. She came to where the Stars were, and she said incantations to them, that they might show her how to come to the Moon. And the Stars showed her the way, and she came at last to the Moon.She came to the Moon with the calabash that had her precious possessions; and the Moon gave her a place where she might rest. There Hina stayed  And the people of Hawaii can look up to the bright Moon and see her there. She sits, her foot lamed, and with her calabash by her side. Seeing her there, the people call her, not “ Hina ” any more, but “Lono Moku” — that is, “Lame Lono.”And standing outside the door you can see her now — Hina, the Woman in the Moon. But some say that , instead of the calabash , she took with her her tapa-board and mallet; and they say that the fine fleecy clouds that you see around the Moon are really the fine tapa-cloths that Hina beats out.
A Man and a Lion were discussing the relative strength of men and lions in general. The Man contended that he and his fellows were stronger than lions by reason of their greater intelligence. “Come now with me,” he cried, “and I will soon prove that I am right.” So he took him into the public gardens and showed him a statue of Hercules overcoming the Lion and tearing his mouth in two. “That is all very well,” said the Lion, “but proves nothing, for it was a man who made the statue.” We can easily represent things as we wish them to be.
There was once a farmer who suffered much at the hands of a money-lender. Good harvests, or bad, the farmer was always poor, the moneylender rich. At last, when he hadn’t a farthing left, the farmer went to the moneylender’s house, and said, ‘You can’t squeeze water from a stone, and as you have nothing to get by me now, you might tell me the secret of becoming rich.’‘My friend,’ returned the money-lender piously, ‘riches come from Ram—ask him.’‘Thank you, I will!’ replied the simple farmer; so he prepared three girdle-cakes to last him on the journey, and set out to find Ram.First he met a Brâhman, and to him he gave a cake, asking him to point out the road to Ram; but the Brâhman only took the cake and went on his way without a word. Next the farmer met a Jôgi or devotee, and to him he gave a cake, without receiving any help in return. At last, he came upon a poor man sitting under a tree, and finding out he was hungry, the kindly farmer gave him his last cake, and sitting down to rest beside him, entered into conversation.‘And where are you going?’ asked the poor man at length.‘Oh, I have a long journey before me, for I am going to find Ram!’ replied the farmer. ‘I don’t suppose you could tell me which way to go?’‘Perhaps I can,’ said the poor man, smiling, ‘for I am Ram! What do you want of me?’Then the farmer told the whole story, and Ram, taking pity on him, gave him a conch shell, and showed him how to blow it in a particular way, saying, ‘Remember! whatever you wish for, you have only to blow the conch that way, and your wish will be fulfilled. Only have a care of that money-lender, for even magic is not proof against their wiles!’The farmer went back to his village rejoicing. In fact the money-lender noticed his high spirits at once, and said to himself, ‘Some good fortune must have befallen the stupid fellow, to make him hold his head so jauntily.’ Therefore he went over to the simple farmer’s house, and congratulated him on his good fortune, in such cunning words, pretending to have heard all about it, that before long the farmer found himself telling the whole story—all except the secret of blowing the conch, for, with all his simplicity, the farmer was not quite such a fool as to tell that.Nevertheless, the money-lender determined to have the conch by hook or by crook, and as he was villain enough not to stick at trifles, he waited for a favourable opportunity and stole it.But, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the thing in every conceivable way, he was obliged to give up the secret as a bad job. However, being determined to succeed, he went back to the farmer, and said, ‘Now, my friend! I’ve got your conch, but I can’t use it; you haven’t got it, so it’s clear you can’t use it either. The matter is at a standstill unless we make a bargain. Now, I promise to give you back your conch, and never to interfere with your using it, on one condition, which is this,—whatever you get from it, I am to get double.’‘Never!’ cried the farmer; ‘that would be the old business all over again!’‘Not at all!’ replied the wily money-lender; ‘you will have your share! Now, don’t be a dog in the manger, for if you get all you want, what can it matter to you if I am rich or poor?’At last, though it went sorely against the grain to be of any benefit to a money-lender, the farmer was forced to yield, and from that time, no matter what he gained by the power of the conch, the money-lender gained double. And the knowledge that this was so preyed upon the farmer’s mind day and night, until he had no satisfaction out of anything he did get.At last there came a very dry season,—so dry that the farmer’s crops withered for want of rain. Then he blew his conch, and wished for a well to water them, and, lo! there was the well. But the money-lender had two!—two beautiful new wells! This was too much for any farmer to stand; and our friend brooded over it, and brooded over it, till at last a bright idea came into his head. He seized the conch, blew it loudly, and cried out, ‘O Ram, I wish to be blind of one eye!’ And so he was, in a twinkling, but the money-lender, of course, was blind of both eyes, and in trying to steer his way between the two new wells, he fell into one and was drowned.Now this true story shows that a farmer once got the better of a money-lender; but only by losing one of his eyes!
An old woman found an empty jar which had lately been full of prime old wine and which still retained the fragrant smell of its former contents. She greedily placed it several times to her nose, and drawing it backwards and forwards said, “O most delicious! How nice must the Wine itself have been, when it leaves behind in the very vessel which contained it so sweet a perfume!”The memory of a good deed lives.
Around a lordly old mansion was a beautiful, well-kept garden, full of all kinds of rare trees and flowers. Guests always expressed their delight and admiration at the sight of its wonders. The people from far and near used to come on Sundays and holidays and ask permission to see it. Even whole schools made excursions for the sole purpose of seeing its beauties.Near the fence that separated the garden from the meadow stood an immense thistle. It was an uncommonly large and fine thistle, with several branches spreading out just above the root, and altogether was so strong and full as to make it well worthy of the name “thistle bush.”No one ever noticed it, save the old donkey that pulled the milk cart for the dairymaids. He stood grazing in the meadow hard by and stretched his old neck to reach the thistle, saying: “You are beautiful! I should like to eat you!” But the tether was too short to allow him to reach the thistle, so he did not eat it.There were guests at the Hall, fine, aristocratic relatives from town, and among them a young lady who had come from a long distance—all the way from Scotland. She was of old and noble family and rich in gold and lands—a bride well worth the winning, thought more than one young man to himself; yes, and their mothers thought so, too!The young people amused themselves on the lawn, playing croquet and flitting about among the flowers, each young girl gathering a flower to put in the buttonhole of some one of the gentlemen.The young Scotch lady looked about for a flower, but none of them seemed to please her, until, happening to glance over the fence, she espied the fine, large thistle bush, full of bluish-red, sturdy-looking flowers. She smiled as she saw it, and begged the son of the house to get one of them for her.“That is Scotland’s flower,” she said; “it grows and blossoms in our coat of arms. Get that one yonder for me, please.”And he gathered the finest of the thistle flowers, though he pricked his fingers as much in doing so as if it had been growing on a wild rosebush.She took the flower and put it in his buttonhole, which made him feel greatly honored. Each of the other young men would gladly have given up his graceful garden flower if he might have worn the one given by the delicate hands of the Scotch girl. As keenly as the son of the house felt the honor conferred upon him, the thistle felt even more highly honored. It seemed to feel dew and sunshine going through it.“It seems I am of more consequence than I thought,” it said to itself. “I ought by rights to stand inside and not outside the fence. One gets strangely placed in this world, but now I have at least one of my flowers over the fence—and not only there, but in a buttonhole!”To each one of its buds as it opened, the thistle bush told this great event. And not many days had passed before it heard—not from the people who passed, nor yet from the twittering of little birds, but from the air, which gives out, far and wide, the sounds that it has treasured up from the shadiest walks of the beautiful garden and from the most secluded rooms at the Hall, where doors and windows are left open—that the young man who received the thistle flower from the hands of the Scottish maiden had received her heart and hand as well.“That is my doing!” said the thistle, thinking of the flower she had given to the buttonhole. And every new flower that came was told of this wonderful event.“Surely I shall now be taken and planted in the garden,” thought the thistle. “Perhaps I shall be put into a flowerpot, for that is by far the most honorable position.” It thought of this so long that it ended by saying to itself with the firm conviction of truth, “I shall be planted in a flowerpot!”It promised every little bud that came that it also should be placed in a pot and perhaps have a place in a buttonhole—that being the highest position one could aspire to. But none of them got into a flowerpot, and still less into a gentleman’s buttonhole.They lived on light and air, and drank sunshine in the day and dew at night. They received visits from bee and hornet, who came to look for the honey in the flower, and who took the honey and left the flower.“The good-for-nothing fellows,” said the thistle bush. “I would pierce them if I could!”The flowers drooped and faded, but new ones always came.“You come as if you had been sent,” said the thistle bush to them. “I am expecting every moment to be taken over the fence.”A couple of harmless daisies and a huge, thin plant of canary grass listened to this with the deepest respect, believing all they heard. The old donkey, that had to pull the milk cart, cast longing looks toward the blooming thistle and tried to reach it, but his tether was too short. And the thistle bush thought and thought, so much and so long, of the Scotch thistle—to whom it believed itself related—that at last it fancied it had come from Scotland and that its parents had grown into the Scottish arms.It was a great thought, but a great thistle may well have great thoughts.“Sometimes one is of noble race even if one does not know it,” said the nettle growing close by—it had a kind of presentiment that it might be turned into muslin, if properly treated.The summer passed, and the autumn passed; the leaves fell from the trees; the flowers came with stronger colors and less perfume; the gardener’s lad sang on the other side of the fence:“Up the hill and down the hill,That’s the way of the world still.”The young pine trees in the wood began to feel a longing for Christmas, though Christmas was still a long way off.“Here I am still,” said the thistle. “It seems that I am quite forgotten, and yet it was I who made the match. They were engaged, and now they are married—the wedding was a week ago. I do not make a single step forward, for I cannot.”Some weeks passed. The thistle had its last, solitary flower, which was large and full and growing down near the root. The wind blew coldly over it, the color faded, and all its glory disappeared, leaving only the cup of the flower, now grown to be as large as the flower of an artichoke and glistening like a silvered sunflower.The young couple, who were now man and wife, came along the garden path, and as they passed near the fence, the bride, glancing over it, said, “Why, there stands the large thistle! it has no flowers now.”“Yes, there is still the ghost of the last one,” said her husband, pointing to the silvery remains of the last flower—a flower in itself.“How beautiful it is!” she said. “We must have one carved in the frame of our picture.”And once more the young man had to get over the fence, to break off the silvery cup of the thistle flower. It pricked his fingers for his pains, because he had called it a ghost. And then it was brought into the garden, and to the Hall, and into the drawing room. There stood a large picture—the portraits of the two, and in the bridegroom’s buttonhole was painted a thistle. They talked of it and of the flower cup they had brought in with them—the last silver-shimmering thistle flower, that was to be reproduced in the carving of the frame.The air took all their words and scattered them about, far and wide.“What strange things happen to one!” said the thistle bush. “My first-born went to live in a buttonhole, my last-born in a frame! I wonder what is to become of me.”The old donkey, standing by the roadside, cast loving glances at the thistle and said, “Come to me, my sweetheart, for I cannot go to you; my tether is too short!”But the thistle bush made no answer. It grew more and more thoughtful, and it thought as far ahead as Christmas, till its budding thoughts opened into flower.“When one’s children are safely housed, a mother is quite content to stay beyond the fence.”“That is true,” said the sunshine; “and you will be well placed, never fear.”“In a flowerpot or in a frame?” asked the thistle.“In a story,” answered the sunshine. And here is the story!
Anne Lisbeth had a colour like milk and blood; young, fresh, and merry, she looked beautiful, with gleaming white teeth and clear eyes; her footstep was light in the dance, and her mind was lighter still. And what came of it all? Her son was an ugly brat! Yes, he was not pretty; so he was put out to be nursed by the labourer’s wife. Anne Lisbeth was taken into the count’s castle, and sat there in the splendid room arrayed in silks and velvets; not a breath of wind might blow upon her, and no one was allowed to speak a harsh word to her. No, that might not be; for she was nurse to the count’s child, which was delicate and fair as a prince, and beautiful as an angel; and how she loved this child! Her own boy was provided for at the labourer’s, where the mouth boiled over more frequently than the pot, and where, in general, no one was at home to take care of the child. Then he would cry; but what nobody knows, that nobody cares for, and he would cry till he was tired, and then he fell asleep; and in sleep one feels neither hunger nor thirst. A capital invention is sleep.With years, just as weeds shoot up, Anne Lisbeth’s child grew, but yet they said his growth was stunted; but he had quite become a member of the family in which he dwelt; they had received money to keep him. Anne Lisbeth was rid of him for good. She had become a town lady, and had a comfortable home of her own; and out of doors she wore a bonnet, when she went out for a walk; but she never walked out to see the labourer—that was too far from the town; and indeed she had nothing to go for; the boy belonged to the labouring people, and she said he could eat his food, and he should do something to earn his food, and consequently he kept Matz’s red cow. He could already tend cattle and make himself useful.The big dog, by the yard gate of the nobleman’s mansion, sits proudly in the sunshine on the top of the kennel, and barks at every one who goes by: if it rains he creeps into his house, and there he is warm and dry. Ann Lisbeth’s boy sat in the sunshine on the fence of the field, and cut out a pole-pin. In the spring he knew of three strawberry plants that were in blossom, and would certainly bear fruit, and that was his most hopeful thought; but they came to nothing. He sat out in the rain in foul weather, and was wet to the skin, and afterwards the cold wind dried the clothes on his back. When he came to the lordly farmyard he was hustled and cuffed, for the men and maids declared he was horribly ugly; but he was used to that—loved by nobody!That was how it went with Anne Lisbeth’s boy; and how could it go otherwise? It was, once for all, his fate to be beloved by nobody.Till now a “land crab,” the land at last threw him overboard. He went to sea in a wretched vessel, and sat by the helm, while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty and ugly, half frozen and half starved: one would have thought he had never had enough; and that really was the case.It was late in autumn, rough, wet, windy weather; the wind cut cold through the thickest clothing, especially at sea; and out to sea went a wretched boat, with only two men on board, or, properly speaking, with only a man and a half, the skipper and his boy. It had only been a kind of twilight all day, and now it became dark; and it was bitter cold. The skipper drank a dram, which was to warm him from within. The bottle was old, and the glass too; it was whole at the top, but the foot was broken off, and therefore it stood upon a little carved block of wood painted blue. “A dram comforts one, and two are better still,” thought the skipper. The boy sat at the helm, which he held fast in his hard seamed hands: he was ugly, and his hair was matted, and he looked crippled and stunted; he was the field labourer’s boy, though in the church register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth’s son.The wind cut its way through the rigging, and the boat cut through the sea. The sail blew out, filled by the wind, and they drove on in wild career. It was rough and wet around and above, and it might come worse still. Hold! what was that? what struck there? what burst yonder? what seized the boat? It heeled, and lay on its beam ends! Was it a waterspout? Was it a heavy sea coming suddenly down? The boy at the helm cried out aloud, “Heaven help us!” The boat had struck on a great rock standing up from the depths of the sea, and it sank like an old shoe in a puddle; it sank “with man and mouse,” as the saying is; and there were mice on board, but only one man and a half, the skipper and the labourer’s boy. No one saw it but the swimming seagulls, and the fishes down yonder, and even they did not see it rightly, for they started back in terror when the water rushed into the ship, and it sank. There it lay scarce a fathom below the surface, and those two were provided for, buried and forgotten! Only the glass with the foot of blue wood did not sink; for the wood kept it up; the glass drifted away, to be broken and cast upon the shore—where and when? But, indeed, that is of no consequence. It had served its time, and it had been loved, which Anne Lisbeth’s boy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say, “Never loved!”Anne Lisbeth had lived in the city for many years. She was called Madame, and felt her dignity, when she remembered the old “noble” days in which she had driven in the carriage, and had associated with countesses and baronesses. Her beautiful noble-child was the dearest angel, the kindest heart; he had loved her so much, and she had loved him in return; they had kissed and loved each other, and the boy had been her joy, her second life. Now he was so tall, and was fourteen years old, handsome and clever: she had not seen him since she carried him in her arms; for many years she had not been in the count’s palace, for indeed it was quite a journey thither.“I must once make an effort and go,” said Anne Lisbeth. “I must go to my darling, to my sweet count’s child. Yes, he certainly must long to see me too, the young count; he thinks of me and loves me as in those days when he flung his angel arms round my neck and cried ‘Anne Liz.!’ It sounded like music. Yes, I must make an effort and see him again.”She drove across the country in a grazier’s cart, and then got out and continued her journey on foot, and thus reached the count’s castle. It was great and magnificent as it had always been, and the garden looked the same as ever; but all the people there were strangers to her; not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth, and they did not know of what consequence she had once been there, but she felt sure the countess would let them know it, and her darling boy too. How she longed to see him!How tall and slender and thin he had grown! But he had still his beautiful eyes, and the angel-sweet mouth! He looked at her, but he said not a word: certainly he did not know her. He turned round, and was about to go away, but she seized his hand and pressed it to her mouth. “Good, good!” said he; and with that he went out of the room—he who filled her every thought—he whom she had loved best, and who was her whole earthly pride. Anne Lisbeth went out of the castle into the open highway, and she felt very mournful; he had been so cold and strange to her, had not a word nor a thought for her, he whom she had once carried day and night, and whom she still carried in her dreams.A great black raven shot down in front of her on to the high road, and croaked and croaked again. “Ha!” she said, “what bird of ill omen art thou?”She came past the hut of the labourer; the wife stood at the door, and the two women spoke to one another.“You look well,” said the woman. “You are plump and fat; you’re well off.”“Oh, yes,” answered Anne Lisbeth.“The boat went down with them,” continued the woman. “Hans skipper and the boy were both drowned. There’s an end of them. I always thought the boy would be able to help me out with a few dollars. He’ll never cost you anything more, Anne Lisbeth.”“So they were drowned?” Anne Lisbeth repeated; and then nothing more was said on the subject.Anne Lisbeth was very low-spirited because her count-child had shown no disposition to talk with her who loved him so well, and who had journeyed all that way to get a sight of him; and the journey had cost money too, though the pleasure she had derived from it was not great. Still she said not a word about this. She would not relieve her heart by telling the labourer’s wife about it, lest the latter should think she did not enjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven screamed again, and flew past over her once more.“The black wretch!” said Anne Lisbeth; “he’ll end by frightening me to-day.”She had brought coffee and chicory with her, for she thought it would be a charity towards the poor woman to give them to her to boil a cup of coffee, and then she herself would take a cup too. The woman prepared the coffee, and in the meantime Anne Lisbeth sat down upon a chair and fell asleep. There she dreamed of something she had never dreamed before; singularly enough, she dreamed of her own child that had wept and hungered there in the labourer’s hut, had been hustled about in heat and in cold, and was now lying in the depths of the sea, Heaven knows where. She dreamed she was sitting in the hut, where the woman was busy preparing the coffee—she could smell the roasting coffee beans. But suddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold a beautiful young form, as beautiful as the count’s child; and this apparition said to her, “The world is passing away! Hold fast to me, for you are my mother after all. You have an angel in heaven. Hold me fast!” And the child-angel stretched out its hand to her; and there was a terrible crash, for the world was going to pieces, and the angel was raising himself above the earth, and holding her by the sleeve so tightly, it seemed to her, that she was lifted up from the ground; but, on the other hand, something heavy hung at her feet and dragged her down, and it seemed to her that hundreds of women clung to her, and cried, “If thou art to be saved, we must be saved too! Hold fast, hold fast!” And then they all hung on to her; but there were too many of them, and—ritsch, ratsch!—the sleeve tore, and Anne Lisbeth fell down in horror—and awoke. And indeed she was on the point of falling over, with the chair on which she sat; she was so startled and alarmed that she could not recollect what it was she had dreamed, but she remembered that it had been something dreadful.The coffee was taken, and they had a chat together; and then Anne Lisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet the carrier, and to drive back with him to her own home. But when she came to speak to him, he said he should not be ready to start before the evening of the next day. She began to think about the expense and the length of the way, and when she considered that the route by the sea shore was shorter by two miles than the other, and that the weather was clear and the moon shone, she determined to make her way on foot, and to start at once, that she might be at home by next day.The sun had set, and the evening bells, tolled in the towers of the village churches, still sounded through the air; but no, it was not the bells, but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Now they were silent, and all around was still; not a bird was heard, for they were all gone to rest; and even the owl seemed to be at home; deep silence reigned on the margin of the forest and by the sea shore: as Anne Lisbeth walked on she could hear her own footsteps on the sand; there was no sound of waves in the sea; everything out in the deep waters had sunk to silence. All was quiet there, the living and the dead creatures of the sea.Anne Lisbeth walked on “thinking of nothing at all,” as the saying is, or rather, her thoughts wandered; but thoughts had not wandered away from her, for they are never absent from us, they only slumber. But those that have not yet stirred come forth at their time, and begin to stir sometimes in the heart and sometimes in the head, and seem to come upon us as if from above.It is written that a good deed bears its fruit of blessing, and it is also written that sin is death. Much has been written and much has been said which one does not know or think of in general; and thus it was with Anne Lisbeth. But it may happen that a light arises within one, and that the forgotten things may approach.All virtues and all vices lie in our hearts. They are in mine and in thine; they lie there like little grains of seed; and then from without comes a ray of sunshine or the touch of an evil hand, or maybe you turn the corner and go to the right or to the left, and that may be decisive; for the little seed-corn perhaps is stirred, and it swells and shoots up, and it bursts, and pours its sap into all your blood, and then your career has commenced. There are tormenting thoughts, which one does not feel when one walks on with slumbering senses, but they are there, fermenting in the heart. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus with her senses half in slumber, but the thoughts were fermenting within her. From one Shrove Tuesday to the next there comes much that weighs upon the heart—the reckoning of a whole year: much is forgotten, sins against Heaven in word and in thought, against our neighbour, and against our own conscience. We don’t think of these things, and Anne Lisbeth did not think of them. She had committed no crime against the law of the land, she was very respectable, an honoured and well-placed person, that she knew. And as she walked along by the margin of the sea, what was it she saw lying there? An old hat, a man’s hat. Now, where might that have been washed overboard? She came nearer, and stopped to look at the hat. Ha! what was lying yonder? She shuddered; but it was nothing save a heap of sea grass and tangle flung across a long stone; but it looked just like a corpse: it was only sea grass and tangle, and yet she was frightened at it, and as she turned away to walk on much came into her mind that she had heard in her childhood; old superstitions of spectres by the sea shore, of the ghosts of drowned but unburied people whose corpses have been washed up on to the desert shore. The body, she had heard, could do harm to none, but the spirit could pursue the lonely wanderer, and attach itself to him, and demand to be carried to the churchyard that it might rest in consecrated ground. “Hold fast! hold fast!” the spectre would then cry; and while Anne Lisbeth murmured the words to herself, her whole dream suddenly stood before her just as she had dreamed it, when the mothers clung to her and had repeated this word, amid the crash of the world, when her sleeve was torn and she slipped out of the grasp of her child, who wanted to hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child, her own child, which she had never loved, lay now buried in the sea, and might rise up like a spectre from the waters, and cry “Hold fast! carry me to consecrated earth.” And as these thoughts passed through her mind, fear gave speed to her feet, so that she walked on faster and faster; fear came upon her like the touch of a cold wet hand that was laid upon her heart, so that she almost fainted; and as she looked out across the sea, all there grew darker and darker; a heavy mist came rolling onward, and clung round bush and tree, twisting them into fantastic shapes. She turned round, and glanced up at the moon, which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale, rayless surface; and a deadly weight appeared to cling to her limbs. “Hold fast!” thought she; and when she turned round a second time and looked at the moon, its white face seemed quite close to her, and the mist hung like a pale garment from her shoulders. “Hold fast! carry me to consecrated earth!” sounded in her ears in strange hollow tones. The sound did not come from frogs or ravens; she saw no sign of any such creatures. “A grave, dig me a grave!” was repeated quite loud. Yes, it was the spectre of her child, the child that lay in the ocean, and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to the churchyard, and until a grave had been dug for it in consecrated ground. Thither she would go, and there she would dig; and she went on in the direction of the church, and the weight on her heart seemed to grow lighter, and even to vanish altogether; but when she turned to go home by the shortest way, it returned. “Hold fast! hold fast!” and the words came quite clear, though they were like the croak of a frog or the wail of a bird, “A grave! dig me a grave!”The mist was cold and damp; her hands and face were cold and damp with horror; a heavy weight again seized her and clung to her, and in her mind a great space opened for thoughts that had never before been there.Here in the North the beech wood often buds in a single night, and in the morning sunlight it appears in its full glory of youthful green; and thus in a single instant can the consciousness unfold itself of the sin that has been contained in the thoughts, words, and works of our past life. It springs up and unfolds itself in a single second when once the conscience is awakened; and God wakens it when we least expect it. Then we find no excuse for ourselves—the deed is there, and bears witness against us; the thoughts seem to become words, and to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us, and have not stifled over what we have sown in our thoughtlessness and pride. The heart hides within itself all the virtues and likewise all the vices, and they grow even in the shallowest ground.Anne Lisbeth now experienced all the thoughts we have clothed in words. She was overpowered by them, and sank down, and crept along for some distance on the ground. “A grave! dig me a grave!” it sounded again in her ears; and she would gladly have buried herself if in the grave there had been forgetfulness of every deed. It was the first hour of her awakening; full of anguish and horror. Superstition alternately made her shudder with cold and made her blood burn with the heat of fever. Many things of which she had never liked to speak came into her mind. Silent as the cloud shadows in the bright moonshine, a spectral apparition flitted by her: she had heard of it before. Close by her gallopped four snorting steeds, with fire spurting from their eyes and nostrils; they dragged a red-hot coach, and within it sat the wicked proprietor who had ruled here a hundred years ago. The legend said that every night at twelve o’clock he drove into his castle yard and out again. There! there! He was not pale as dead men are said to be, but black as a coal. He nodded at Anne Lisbeth and beckoned to her. “Hold fast! hold fast! then you may ride again in a nobleman’s carriage, and forget your child!”And she threw herself on the earth, and with her hands dug a grave in the hard ground, so that the blood ran from her fingers.“A grave! dig me a grave!” it still sounded; she was fearful that the cock might crow, and the first red streak appear in the east, before she had finished her work, and then she would be lost.And the cock crowed, and day dawned in the east, and the grave was only half dug. An icy hand passed over her head and face, and down towards her heart. “Only half a grave!” a voice wailed, and fled away. Yes, it fled away over the sea—it was the ocean spectre; and exhausted and overpowered, Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground, and her senses forsook her.It was bright day when she came to herself, and two men were raising her up; but she was not lying in the churchyard, but on the sea shore, where she had dug a deep hole in the sand, and cut her hand against a broken glass, whose sharp stem was stuck in a little painted block of wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever. Conscience had shuffled the cards of superstition, and had laid out these cards, and she fancied she had only half a soul, and that her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never would she be able to swing herself aloft to the mercy of Heaven, till she had recovered this other half, which was now held fast in the deep water. Anne Lisbeth got back to her former home, but was no longer the woman she had been: her thoughts were confused like a tangled skein; only one thread, only one thought she had disentangled, namely, that she must carry the spectre of the sea shore to the churchyard, and dig a grave for him, that thus she might win back her soul.Many a night she was missed from her home; and she was always found on the sea shore, waiting for the spectre. In this way a whole year passed by; and then one night she vanished again, and was not to be found; the whole of the next day was wasted in fruitless search.Towards evening, when the clerk came into the church to toll the vesper bell, he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth, who had spent the whole day there. Her physical forces were almost exhausted, but her eyes gleamed brightly, and her cheeks had a rosy flush. The last rays of the sun shone upon her, and gleamed over the altar on the bright buckles of the Bible which lay there, opened at the words of the prophet Joel: “Bend your hearts, and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord!” That was just a chance, the people said; as many things happen by chance.In the face of Anne Lisbeth, illumined by the sun, peace and rest were to be seen. She said she was happy, for now she had conquered. Last night the spectre of the shore, her own child, had come to her, and had said to her, “Thou hast dug me only half a grave, but thou hast now, for a year and a day, buried me altogether in thy heart, and it is there that a mother can best hide her child!” And then he gave her her lost soul back again, and brought her here into the church.“Now I am in the house of God,” she said, “and in that house we are happy.”And when the sun had set, Anne Lisbeth’s soul had risen to that region where there is no more anguish, and Anne Lisbeth’s troubles were over.
There was once a man who had a daughter who was called Clever Elsie. And when she had grown up her father said, “We will get her married.” “Yes,” said the mother, “if only any one would come who would have her.” At length a man came from a distance and wooed her, who was called Hans; but he stipulated that Clever Elsie should be really wise. “Oh,” said the father, “she’s sharp enough;” and the mother said, “Oh, she can see the wind coming up the street, and hear the flies coughing.” “Well,” said Hans, “if she is not really wise, I won’t have her.” When they were sitting at dinner and had eaten, the mother said, “Elsie, go into the cellar and fetch some beer.” Then Clever Elsie took the pitcher from the wall, went into the cellar, and tapped the lid briskly as she went that the time might not appear long. When she was below she fetched herself a chair, and set it before the barrel so that she had no need to stoop, and did not hurt her back or do herself any unexpected injury. Then she placed the can before her, and turned the tap, and while the beer was running she would not let her eyes be idle, but looked up at the wall, and after much peering here and there, saw a pick-axe exactly above her, which the masons had accidentally left there.Then Clever Elsie began to weep and said, “If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and we send him into the cellar here to draw beer, then the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.” Then she sat and wept and screamed with all the strength of her body, over the misfortune which lay before her. Those upstairs waited for the drink, but Clever Elsie still did not come. Then the woman said to the servant, “Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is.” The maid went and found her sitting in front of the barrel, screaming loudly. “Elsie, why weepest thou?” asked the maid. “Ah,” she answered, “have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will perhaps fall on his head, and kill him.” Then said the maid, “What a clever Elsie we have!” and sat down beside her and began loudly to weep over the misfortune. After a while, as the maid did not come back, and those upstairs were thirsty for the beer, the man said to the boy, “Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie and the girl are.” The boy went down, and there sat Clever Elsie and the girl both weeping together. Then he asked, “Why are ye weeping?” “Ah,” said Elsie, “have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.” Then said the boy, “What a clever Elsie we have!” and sat down by her, and likewise began to howl loudly. Upstairs they waited for the boy, but as he still did not return, the man said to the woman, “Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is!” The woman went down, and found all three in the midst of their lamentations, and inquired what was the cause; then Elsie told her also that her future child was to be killed by the pick-axe, when it grew big and had to draw beer, and the pick-axe fell down. Then said the mother likewise, “What a clever Elsie we have!” and sat down and wept with them. The man upstairs waited a short time, but as his wife did not come back and his thirst grew ever greater, he said, “I must go into the cellar myself and see where Elsie is.” But when he got into the cellar, and they were all sitting together crying, and he heard the reason, and that Elsie’s child was the cause, and that Elsie might perhaps bring one into the world some day, and that it might be killed by the pick-axe, if it should happen to be sitting beneath it, drawing beer just at the very time when it fell down, he cried, “Oh, what a clever Elsie!” and sat down, and likewise wept with them. The bridegroom stayed upstairs alone for a long time; then as no one would come back he thought, “They must be waiting for me below; I too must go there and see what they are about.” When he got down, five of them were sitting screaming and lamenting quite piteously, each out-doing the other. “What misfortune has happened then?” asked he. “Ah, dear Hans,” said Elsie, “if we marry each other and have a child, and he is big, and we perhaps send him here to draw something to drink, then the pick-axe which has been left up there might dash his brains out if it were to fall down, so have we not reason to weep?” “Come,” said Hans, “more understanding than that is not needed for my household, as thou art such a clever Elsie, I will have thee,” and he seized her hand, took her upstairs with him, and married her.After Hans had had her some time, he said, “Wife, I am going out to work and earn some money for us; go into the field and cut the corn that we may have some bread.” “Yes, dear Hans, I will do that.” After Hans had gone away, she cooked herself some good broth and took it into the field with her. When she came to the field she said to herself, “What shall I do; shall I shear first, or shall I eat first? Oh, I will eat first.” Then she emptied her basin of broth, and when she was fully satisfied, she once more said, “What shall I do? Shall I shear first, or shall I sleep first? I will sleep first.” Then she lay down among the corn and fell asleep. Hans had been at home for a long time, but Elsie did not come; then said he, “What a clever Elsie I have; she is so industrious that she does not even come home to eat.” As, however, she still stayed away, and it was evening, Hans went out to see what she had cut, but nothing was cut, and she was lying among the corn asleep. Then Hans hastened home and brought a fowler’s net with little bells and hung it round about her, and she still went on sleeping. Then he ran home, shut the house-door, and sat down in his chair and worked. At length, when it was quite dark, Clever Elsie awoke and when she got up there was a jingling all round about her, and the bells rang at each step which she took. Then she was alarmed, and became uncertain whether she really was Clever Elsie or not, and said, “Is it I, or is it not I?” But she knew not what answer to make to this, and stood for a time in doubt; at length she thought, “I will go home and ask if it be I, or if it be not I, they will be sure to know.” She ran to the door of her own house, but it was shut; then she knocked at the window and cried, “Hans, is Elsie within?” “Yes,” answered Hans, “she is within.” Hereupon she was terrified, and said, “Ah, heavens! Then it is not I,” and went to another door; but when the people heard the jingling of the bells they would not open it, and she could get in nowhere. Then she ran out of the village, and no one has seen her since.
In the centre of the great hall in the castle of Caerleon upon Usk, king Arthur sat on a seat of green rushes, over which was thrown a covering of flame-coloured silk, and a cushion of red satin lay under his elbow. With him were his knights Owen and Kynon and Kai, while at the far end, close to the window, were Guenevere the queen and her maidens embroidering white garments with strange devices of gold.‘I am weary,’ said Arthur, ‘and till my food is prepared I would fain sleep. You yourselves can tell each other tales, and Kai will fetch you from the kitchen a flagon of mean and some meat.’And when they had eaten and drunk, Kynon, the oldest among them, began his story.‘I was the only son of my father and mother, and much store they set by me, but I was not content to stay with them at home, for I thought no deed in all the world was too mighty for me. None could hold me back, and after I had won many adventures in my own land, I bade farewell to my parents and set out to see the world. Over mountains, through deserts, across rivers I went, till I reached a fair valley full of trees, with a path running by the side of a stream. I walked along that path all the day, and in the evening I came to a castle in front of which stood two youths clothed in yellow, each grasping an ivory bow, with arrows made of the bones of the whale, and winged with peacock’s feathers. By their sides hung golden daggers with hilts of the bones of the whale.‘Near these young men was a man richly dressed, who turned and went with me towards the castle, where all the dwellers were gathered in the hall. In one window I beheld four and twenty damsels, and the least fair of them was fairer than Guenevere at her fairest. Some took my horse, and others unbuckled my armour, and washed it, with my sword and spear, till it all shone like silver. Then I washed myself and put on a vest and doublet which they brought me, and I and the man that entered with me sat down before a table of silver, and a goodlier feast I never had.‘All this time neither the man nor the damsels had spoken one word, but when our dinner was half over, and my hunger was stilled, the man began to ask who I was. Then I told him my name and my father’s name, and why I came there, for indeed I had grown weary of gaining the mastery over all men at home, and sought if perchance there was one who could gain the mastery over me. And at this the man smiled and answered:‘”If I did not fear to distress thee too much, I would show thee what thou seekest.” His words made me sorrowful and fearful of myself, which the man perceived, and added, “If thou meanest truly what thou sayest, and desirest earnestly to prove thy valour, and not to boast vainly that none can overcome thee, I have somewhat to show thee. But to-night thou must sleep in the this castle, and in the morning see that thou rise early and follow the road upwards through the valley, until thou reachest a wood. In the wood is a path branching to the right; go along this path until thou comest to a space of grass with a mound in the middle of it. On the top of the mound stands a black man, larger than any two white men; his eye is in the centre of his forehead and he has only one foot. He carries a club of iron, and two white men could hardly lift it. Around him graze a thousand beasts, all of different kinds, for he is the guardian of that wood, and it is he who will tell thee which way to go in order to find the adventure thou art in quest of.”‘So spake the man, and long did that night seem to me, and before dawn I rose and put on my armour, and mounted my horse and rode on till I reached the grassy space of which he had told me. There was the black man on top of the mound, as he had said, and in truth he was mightier in all ways than I had thought him to be. As for the club, Kai, it would have been a burden for four of our warriors. He waited for me to speak, and I asked him what power he held over the beasts that thronged so close about him.‘”I will show thee, little man,” he answered, and with his club he struck a stag on the head till he brayed loudly. And at his braying the animals came running, numerous as the stars in the sky, so that scarce was I able to stand among them. Serpents were there also, and dragons, and beasts of strange shapes, with horns in places where never saw I horns before. And the black man only looked at them and bade them go and feed. And they bowed themselves before him, as vassals before their lord.‘”Now, little man, I have answered thy question and showed thee my power,” said he. “Is there anything else thou wouldest know?” Then I inquired of him my way, but he grew angry, and, as I perceived, would fain have hindered me; but at the last, after I had told him who I was, his anger passed from him.‘”Take that path,” said he, “that leads to the head of this grassy glade, and go up the wood till thou reachest the top. There thou wilt find an open space, and in the midst of it a tall tree. Under the tree is a fountain, and by the fountain a marble slab, and on the slab a bowl of silver, with a silver chain. Dip the bowl in the fountain, and throw the water on the slab, and thou wilt hear a might peal of thunder, till heaven and earth seem trembling with the noise. After the thunder will come hail, so fierce that scarcely canst thou endure it and live, for the hailstones are both large and thick. Then the sun will shine again, but every leaf of the tree will by lying on the ground. Next a flight of birds will come and alight on the tree, and never didst thou hear a strain so sweet as that which they will sing. And at the moment in which their song sounds sweetest thou wilt hear a murmuring and complaining coming towards thee along the valley, and thou wilt see a knight in black velvet bestriding a black horse, bearing a lance with a black pennon, and he will spur his steed so as to fight thee. If thou turnest to flee, he will overtake thee. And if thou abidest were thou art, he will unhorse thee. And if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not to seek it during the rest of thy life.”‘So I bade the black man farewell, and took my way to the top of the wood, and there I found everything just as I had been told. I went up to the tree beneath which stood the fountain, and filling the silver bowl with water, emptied it on the marble slab. Thereupon the thunder came, louder by far than I had expected to hear it, and after the thunder came the shower, but heavier by far than I had expected to feel it, for, of a truth I tell thee, Kai, not one of those hailstones would be stopped by skin or by flesh till it had reached the bone. I turned my horse’s flank towards the shower, and, bending over his neck, held my shield so that it might cover his head and my own. When the hail had passed, I looked on the tree and not a single leaf was left on it, and the sky was blue and the sun shining, while on the branches were perched birds of very kind, who sang a song sweeter than any that has come to my ears, either before or since.‘Thus, Kai, I stood listening to the birds, when lo, a murmuring voice approached me, saying:‘”O knight, what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done to thee, that thou shouldest do so much to me, for in all my lands neither man nor beast that met that shower has escaped alive.” Then from the valley appeared the knight on the black horse, grasping the lance with the black pennon. Straightway we charged each other, and though I fought my best, he soon overcame me, and I was thrown to the ground, while the knight seized the bridle of my horse, and rode away with it, leaving me where I was, without even despoiling me of my armour.‘Sadly did I go down the hill again, and when I reached the glade where the black man was, I confess to thee, Kai, it was a marvel that I did not melt into a liquid pool, so great was my shame. That night I slept at the castle where I had been before, and I was bathed and feasted, and none asked me how I had fared. The next morning when I arose I found a bay horse saddled for me, and, girdling on my armour, I returned to my own court. The horse is still in the stable, and I would not part with it for any in Britain.‘But of a truth, Kai, no man ever confessed an adventure so much to his own dishonour, and strange indeed it seems that none other man have I ever met that knew of the black man, and the knight and the shower.’‘Would it not be well,’ said Owen, ‘to go and discover the place?’‘By the hand of my friend,’ answered Kai, ‘often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds.’‘In truth,’ said Guenevere the queen, who had listened to the tale, ‘thou wert better hanged, Kai, than use such speech towards a man like Owen.’‘I meant nothing, lady,’ replied Kai; ‘thy praise of Owen is not greater than mine.’ And as he spoke Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not slept for a little.‘Yes, lord,’ answered Owen, ‘certainly thou hast slept.’‘Is it time for us to go to meat?’‘It is, lord,’ answered Owen.Then the horn for washing themselves was sounded, and after that the king and his household sat down to eat. And when they had finished, Owen left them, and made ready his horse and his arms.With the first rays of the sun he set forth, and travelled through deserts and over mountains and across rivers, and all befell him which had befallen Kynon, till he stood under the leafless tree listening to the song of the birds. Then he heard the voice, and turning to look found the knight galloping to meet him. Fiercely they fought till their lances were broken, and then they drew their swords, and a blow from Owen cut through the knight’s helmet, and pierced his skull.Feeling himself wounded unto death the knight fled, and Owen pursued him till they came to a splendid castle. Here the knight dashed across the bridge that spanned the moat, and entered the gate, but as soon as he was safe inside, the drawbridge was pulled up and caught Owen’s horse in the middle, so that half of him was inside and half out, and Owen could not dismount and knew not what to do.While he was in this sore plight a little door in the castle gate opened, and he could see a street facing him, with tall houses. Then a maiden with curling hair of gold looked through the little door and bade Owen open the gate.‘By my troth!’ cried Owen, ‘I can no more open it from here than thou art able to set me free.’‘Well,’ said she, ‘I will do my best to release thee if thou wilt do as I tell thee. Take this ring and put it on with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy fingers tight, for as long as thou dost conceal it, it will conceal thee. When the men inside have held counsel together, they will come to fetch thee to thy death, and they will be much grieved not to find thee. I will stand on the horse block yonder and thou canst see me though I cannot see thee. Therefore draw near and place thy hand on my shoulder and follow me wheresoever I go.’Upon that she went away from Owen, and when the men came out from the castle to seek him and did not find him they were sorely grieved, and they returned to the castle.Then Owen went to the maiden and placed his hand on her shoulder, and she guided him to a large room, painted all over with rich colours, and adorned with images of gold. Here she gave him meat and drink, and water to wash with and garments to wear, and he lay down upon a soft bed, with scarlet and fur to cover him, and slept gladly.In the middle of the night he woke hearing a great outcry, and he jumped up and clothed himself and went into the hall, where the maiden was standing.‘What is it?’ he asked, and she answered that the knight who owned the castle was dead, and they were bearing his body to the church. Never had Owen beheld such vast crowds, and following the dead knight was the most beautiful lady in the world, whose cry was louder than the shout of the men, or the braying of the trumpets. And Owen looked on her and loved her.‘Who is she?’ he asked the damsel. ‘That is my mistress, the countess of the fountain, and the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday.’‘Verily,’ said Owen, ‘she is the woman that I love best.’‘She shall also love thee not a little,’ said the maiden.Then she left Owen, and after a while went into the chamber of her mistress, and spoke to her, but the countess answered her nothing.‘What aileth thee, mistress?’ inquired the maiden.‘Why hast thou kept far from me in my grief, Luned?’ answered the countess, and in her turn the damsel asked:‘Is it well for thee to mourn so bitterly for the dead, or for anything that is gone from thee?’‘There is no man in the world equal to him,’ replied the countess, her cheeks growing red with anger. ‘I would fain banish thee for such words.’‘Be not angry, lady,’ said Luned, ‘but listen to my counsel. Thou knowest well that alone thou canst not preserve thy lands, therefore seek some one to help thee.’‘And how can I do that?’ asked the countess.‘I will tell thee,’ answered Luned. ‘Unless thou canst defend the fountain all will be lost, and none can defend the fountain except a knight of Arthur’s court. There will I go to seek him, and woe betide me if I return without a warrior that can guard the fountain, as well as he who kept it before.’‘Go then,’ said the countess, ‘and make proof of that which thou hast promised.’So Luned set out, riding on a white palfrey, on pretence of journeying to King Arthur’s court, but instead of doing that she hid herself for as many days as it would have taken her to go and come, and then she left her hiding-place, and went into the countess.‘What news from the court?’ asked her mistress, when she had given Luned a warm greeting.‘The best of news,’ answered the maiden, ‘for I have gained the object of my mission. When wilt thou that I present to thee the knight who has returned with me?’‘To-morrow at midday,’ said the countess, ‘and I will cause all the people in the town to come together.’Therefore the next day at noon Owen put on his coat of mail, and over it he wore a splendid mantle, while on his feet were leather shoes fastened with clasps of gold. And he followed Luned to the chamber of her mistress.Right glad was the countess to see them, but she looked closely at Owen and said:‘Luned, this knight has scarcely the air of a traveller.’‘What harm is there in that, lady?’ answered Luned.‘I am persuaded,’ said the countess, ‘that this man and no other chased the soul from the body of my lord.’‘Had he not been stronger than thy lord,’ replied the damsel, ‘he could not have taken his life, and for that, and for all things that are past, there is no remedy.’‘Leave me, both of you,’ said the countess, ‘and I will take counsel.’Then they went out.The next morning the countess summoned her subjects to meet in the courtyard of the castle, and told them that now that her husband was dead there was none to defend her lands.‘So choose you which it shall be,’ she said. ‘Either let one of you take me for a wife, or give me your consent to take a new lord for myself, that my lands be not without a master.’At her words the chief men of the city withdrew into one corner and took counsel together, and after a while the leader came forward and said that they had decided that it was best, for the peace and safety of all, that she should choose a husband for herself. Thereupon Owen was summoned to her presence, and he accepted with joy the hand that she offered him, and they were married forthwith, and the men of the earldom did him homage.From that day Owen defended the fountain as the earl before him had done, and every knight that came by was overthrown by him, and his ransom divided among his barons. In this way three years passed, and no man in the world was more beloved than Owen.Now at the end of the three years it happened that Gwalchmai the knight was with Arthur, and he perceived the king to be very sad.‘My lord, has anything befallen thee?’ he asked.‘Oh, Gwalchmai, I am grieved concerning Owen, whom I have lost these three years, and if a fourth year passes without him I can live no longer. And sure am I that the tale told by Kynon the son of Clydno caused me to lose him. I will go myself with the men of my household to avenge him if he is dead, to free him if he is in prison, to bring him back if he is alive.’Then Arthur and three thousand men of his household set out in quest of Owen, and took Kynon for their guide. When Arthur reached the castle, the youths were shooting in the same place, and the same yellow man was standing by, and as soon as he beheld Arthur he greeted him and invited him in, and they entered together. So vast was the castle that the king’s three thousand men were of no more account than if they had been twenty.At sunrise Arthur departed thence, with Kynon for his guide, and reached the black man first, and afterwards the top of the wooded hill, with the fountain and the bowl and the tree.‘My lord,’ said Kai, ‘let me throw the water on the slab, and receive the first adventure that may befall.’‘Thou mayest do so,’ answered Arthur, and Kai threw the water.Immediately all happened as before; the thunder and the shower of hail which killed many of Arthur’s men; the song of the birds and the appearance of the black knight. And Kai met him and fought him, and was overthrown by him. Then the knight rode away, and Arthur and his men encamped where they stood.In the morning Kai again asked leave to meet the knight and to try to overcome him, which Arthur granted. But once more he was unhorsed, and the black knight’s lance broke his helmet and pierced the skin even to the bone, and humbled in spirit he returned to the camp.After this every one of the knights gave battle, but none came out victor, and at length there only remained Arthur himself and Gwalchmai.‘Oh, let me fight him, my lord,’ cried Gwalchmai, as he saw Arthur taking up his arms.‘Well, fight then,’ answered Arthur, and Gwalchmai threw a robe over himself and his horse, so that none knew him. All that day they fought, and neither was able to throw the other, and so it was on the next day. On the third day the combat was so fierce that they fell both to the ground at once, and fought on their feet, and at last the black knight gave his foe such a blow on his head that his helmet fell from his face.‘I did not know it was thee, Gwalchmai,’ said the black knight. ‘Take my sword and my arms.’‘No,’ answered Gwalchmai, ‘it is thou, Owen, who art the victor, take thou my sword’; but Owen would not.‘Give me your swords,’ said Arthur from behind them, ‘for neither of you has vanquished the other,’ and Owen turned and put his arms round Arthur’s neck.The next day Arthur would have given orders to his men to make ready to go back whence they came, but Owen stopped him.‘My lord,’ he said, ‘during the three years that I have been absent from thee I have been preparing a banquet for thee, knowing full well that thou wouldst come to seek me. Tarry with me, therefore, for a while, thou and thy men.’So they rode to the castle of the countess of the fountain, and spent three months in resting and feasting. And when it was time for them to depart Arthur besought the countess that she would allow Owen to go with him to Britain for the space of three months. With a sore heart she granted permission, and so content was Owen to be once more with his old companions that three years instead of three months passed away like a dream.One day Owen sat at meat in the castle of Caerleon upon Usk, when a damsel on a bay horse entered the hall, and riding straight up to the place where Owen sat she stooped and drew the ring from off his hand.‘Thus shall be treated the traitor and the faithless,’ said she, and turning her horse’s head she rode out of the hall.At her words Owen remembered all that he had forgotten, and sorrowful and ashamed he went to his own chamber and made ready to depart. At the dawn he set out, but he did not go back to the castle, for his heart was heavy, but he wandered far into wild places till his body was weak and thin, and his hair was long. The wild beasts were his friends, and he slept by their side, but in the end he longed to see the face of a man again, and he came down into a valley and fell asleep by a lake in the lands of a widowed countess.Now it was the time when the countess took her walk, attended by her maidens, and when they saw a man lying by the lake they shrank back in terror, for he lay so still that they thought he was dead. But when they had overcome their fright, they drew near him, and touched him, and saw that there was life in him. Then the countess hastened to the castle, and brought from it a flask full of precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens.‘Take that horse which is grazing yonder,’ she said, ‘and a suit of men’s garments, and place them near the man, and pour some of this ointment near his heart. If there is any life in him that will bring it back. But if he moves, hide thyself in the bushes near by, and see what he does.’The damsel took the flask and did her mistress’ bidding. Soon the man began to move his arms, and then rose slowly to his feet. Creeping forward step by step he took the garments from off the saddle and put them on him, and painfully he mounted the horse. When he was seated the damsel came forth and greeted him, and glad was he when he saw her and inquired what castle that was before him.‘It belongs to a widowed countess,’ answered the maiden. ‘Her husband left her two earldoms, but it is all that remains of her broad lands, for they have been torn from her by a young earl, because she would not marry him.’‘That is a pity,’ replied Owen, but he said no more, for he was too weak to talk much. Then the maiden guided him to the castle, and kindled a fire, and brought him food. And there he stayed and was tended for three months, till he was handsomer than ever he was.At noon one day Owen heard a sound of arms outside the castle, and he asked of the maiden what it was.‘It is the earl of whom I spoke to thee,’ she answered, ‘who has come with a great host to carry off my mistress.’‘Beg of her to lend me a horse and armour,’ said Owen, and the maiden did so, but the countess laughed somewhat bitterly as she answered:‘Nay, but I will give them to him, and such a horse and armour and weapons as he has never had yet, though I know not what use they will be to him. Yet mayhap it will save them from falling into the hands of my enemies.’The horse was brought out and Owen rode forth with two pages behind him, and they saw the great host encamped before them.‘Where is the earl?’ said he, and the pages answered:‘In yonder troop where are four yellow standards.’‘Await me,’ said Owen, ‘at the gate of the castle, and he cried a challenge to the earl, who came to meet him. Hard did they fight, but Owen overthrew his enemy and drove him in front to the castle gate and into the hall.‘Behold the reward of thy blessed balsam,’ said he, as he bade the earl kneel down before her, and made him swear that he would restore all that he had taken from her.After that he departed, and went into the deserts, and as he was passing through a wood he heard a loud yelling. Pushing aside the bushes he beheld a lion standing on a great mound, and by it a rock. Near the rock was a lion seeking to reach the mound, and each time he moved out darted a serpent from the rock to prevent him. Then Owen unsheathed his sword, and cut off the serpent’s head and went on his way, and the lion followed and played about him, as if he had been a greyhound. And much more useful was he than a greyhound, for in the evening he brought large logs in his mouth to kindle a fire, and killed a fat buck for dinner.Owen made his fire and skinned the buck, and put some of it to roast, and gave the rest to the lion for supper. While he was waiting for the meat to cook he heard a sound of deep sighing close to him, and he said:‘Who are thou?’‘I am Luned,’ replied a voice from a cave so hidden by bushes and green hanging plants that Owen had not seen it.‘And what dost thou here?’ cried he.‘I am held captive in this cave on account of the knight who married the countess and left her, for the pages spoke ill of him, and because I told them that no man living was his equal they dragged me here and said I should die unless he should come to deliver me by a certain day, and that is no further than the day after to-morrow. His name is Owen the son of Urien, but I have none to send to tell him of my danger, or of a surety he would deliver me.’Owen held his peace, but gave the maiden some of the meat, and bade her be of good cheer. Then, followed by the lion, he set out for a great castle on the other side of the plain, and men came and took his horse and placed it in a manger, and the lion went after and lay down on the straw. Hospitable and kind were all within the castle, but so full of sorrow that it might have been thought death was upon them. At length, when they had eaten and drunk, Owen prayed the earl to tell him the reason of their grief.‘Yesterday,’ answered the earl, ‘my two sons were seized, while thy were hunting, by a monster who dwells on those mountains yonder, and he vows that he will not let them go unless I give him my daughter to wife.’‘That shall never be,’ said Owen; ‘but what form hath this monster?’‘In shape he is a man, but in stature he is a giant,’ replied the earl, ‘and it were better by far that he should slay my sons than that I should give up my daughter.’Early next morning the dwellers in the castle were awakened by a great clamour, and they found that the giant had arrived with the two young men. Swiftly Owen put on his armour and went forth to meet the giant, and the lion followed at his heels. And when the great beast beheld the hard blows which the giant dealt his master he flew at his throat, and much trouble had the monster in beating him off.‘Truly,’ said the giant, ‘I should find no difficulty in fighting thee, if it were not for that lion.’ When he heard that Owen felt shame that he could not overcome the giant with his own sword, so he took the lion and shut him up in one of the towers of the castle, and returned to the fight. But from the sound of the blows the lion knew that the combat was going ill for Owen, so he climbed up till he reached the top of the tower, where there was a door on to the roof, and from the tower he sprang on to the walls, and from the walls to the ground. Then with a loud roar he leaped upon the giant, who fell dead under the blow of his paw.Now the gloom of the castle was turned into rejoicing, and the earl begged Owen to stay with him till he could make him a feast, but the knight said he had other work to do, and rode back to the place where he had left Luned, and the lion followed at his heels. When he came there he saw a great fire kindled, and two youths leading out the maiden to cast her upon the pile.‘Stop!’ he cried, dashing up to them. ‘What charge have you against her?’‘She boasted that no man in the world was equal to Owen,’ said they, ‘and we shut her in a cave, and agreed that none should deliver her but Owen himself, and that if he did not come by a certain day she should die. And now the time has past and there is no sign of him.’‘In truth he is a good knight, and had he but known that the maid was in peril he would have come to save her,’ said Owen; ‘but accept me in his stead, I entreat you.’‘We will,’ replied they, and the fight began.The youths fought well and pressed hard on Owen, and when the lion saw that he came to help his master. But the youths made a sign for the fight to stop, and said:‘Chieftain, it was agreed we should give battle to thee alone, and it is harder for us to contend with yonder beast than with thee.’Then Owen shut up the lion in the cave where the maiden had been in prison, and blocked up the front with stones. But the fight with the giant had sorely tried him, and the youths fought well, and pressed him harder than before. And when the lion saw that he gave a loud roar, and burst through the stones, and sprang upon the youths and slew them. And so Luned was delivered at the last.Then the maiden rode back with Owen to the lands of the lady of the fountain. And he took the lady with him to Arthur’s court, where they lived happily till they died.
It is related that ’Abd Allah, the son of Aboo Kilábeh, went forth to seek a camel that had run away, and while he was proceeding over the deserts of El-Yemen and the district of Seba, he chanced to arrive at a vast city encompassed by enormous fortifications, around the circuit of which were pavilions rising high into the sky. So when he approached it, he imagined that there must be inhabitants within it, of whom he might inquire for his camel; and, accordingly, he advanced, but on coming to it he found that it was desolate, without any one to cheer its solitude.“I alighted,” says he, “from my she-camel, and tied up her foot; and then, composing my mind, entered the city. On approaching the fortifications, I found that they had two enormous gates, the like of which, for size and height, have never been seen elsewhere in the world, set with a variety of jewels and jacinths, white and red, and yellow and green; and when I beheld this, I was struck with the utmost wonder at it, and the sight astonished me. I entered the fortifications in a state of terror and with a wandering mind, and saw them to be of the same large extent as the city, and to comprise elevated pavilions, every one of these containing lofty chambers, and all of them constructed of gold and silver, and adorned with rubies and chrysolites and pearls and various-coloured jewels. The folding-doors of these pavilions were like those of the fortifications in beauty, and the floors were overlaid with large pearls, and with balls like hazel-nuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron. And when I came into the midst of the city, I saw not in it a created being of the sons of Adam; and I almost died of terror. I then looked down from the summits of the lofty chambers and pavilions, and saw rivers running beneath them; and in the great thoroughfare-streets of the city were fruit-bearing trees and tall palm-trees. And the construction of the city was of alternate bricks of gold and silver; so I said within myself, No doubt this is the paradise promised in the world to come.“I carried away of the jewels which were as its gravel, and the musk that was as its dust, as much as I could bear, and returned to my district, where I acquainted the people with the occurrence. And the news reached Mo’áwiyeh, the son of Aboo Sufyán (who was then Caliph), in the Hejáz; so he wrote to his lieutenant in San’a of El-Yemen, saying, ‘Summon that man, and inquire of him the truth of the matter!’ His lieutenant therefore caused me to be brought, and demanded of me an account of my adventure, and of what had befallen me; and I informed him of what I had seen. He then sent me to Mo’áwiyeh, and I acquainted him also with that which I had seen, but he disbelieved it; so I produced to him some of those pearls and the little balls of ambergris and musk and saffron. The latter retained somewhat of their sweet scent; but the pearls had become yellow and discoloured.“At the sight of these Mo’áwiyeh wondered, and he sent and caused Kaab el-Ahbár to be brought before him, and said to him, ‘O Kaab el-Ahbár, I have called thee on account of a matter of which I desire to know the truth, and I hope that thou mayest be able to certify me of it.’ ‘And what is it, O Prince of the Faithful?’ asked Kaab el-Ahbár. Mo’áwiyeh said, ‘Hast thou any knowledge of the existence of a city constructed of gold and silver, the pillars whereof are of chrysolite and ruby, and the gravel of which is of pearls, and of balls like hazel-nuts, composed of musk and ambergris and saffron?’ He answered, ‘Yes, O Prince of the Faithful! It is Irem Zat-el-’Emád, the like of which hath never been constructed in the regions of the earth; and Sheddád, the son of ’A’d the Greater, built it.’ ‘Relate to us,’ said Mo’áwiyeh, ‘somewhat of its history.’ And Kaab el-Ahbár replied thus:—“‘’A’d the Greater had two sons, Shedeed and Sheddád, and when their father perished they reigned conjointly over the countries after him, and there was no one of the kings of the earth who was not subject to them. And Shedeed the son of ’A’d died, so his brother Sheddád ruled alone over the earth after him. He was fond of reading the ancient books; and when he met with the description of the world to come, and of paradise, with its pavilions and lofty chambers, and its trees and fruits, and of the other things in paradise, his heart enticed him to construct its like on the earth, after this manner which hath been above mentioned. He had under his authority a hundred thousand kings, under each of whom were a hundred thousand valiant chieftains, and under each of these were a hundred thousand soldiers. And he summoned them all before him, and said to them, “I find in the ancient books and histories the description of the paradise that is in the other world, and I desire to make its like upon the earth. Depart ye therefore to the most pleasant and most spacious vacant tract in the earth, and build for me in it a city of gold and silver, and spread, as its gravel, chrysolites and rubies and pearls, and as the supports of the vaulted roofs of that city make columns of chrysolite, and fill it with pavilions, and over the pavilions construct lofty chambers, and beneath them plant, in the by-streets and great-thoroughfare streets, varieties of trees bearing different kinds of ripe fruits, and make rivers to run beneath them in channels of gold and silver.” To this they all replied, “How can we accomplish that which thou hast described to us, and how can we procure the chrysolites and rubies and pearls that thou hast mentioned?” But he said, “Know ye not that the kings of the world are obedient to me, and under my authority, and that no one who is in it disobeyeth my command?” They answered, “Yes, we know that.” “Depart then,” said he, “to the mines of chrysolite and ruby, and to the places where pearls are found, and gold and silver, and take forth and collect their contents from the earth, and spare no exertions. Take also for me, from the hands of me, such of those things as ye find, and spare none, nor let any escape you; and beware of disobedience!”“‘He then wrote a letter to each of the kings in the regions of the earth, commanding them to collect all the articles of the kinds above mentioned that their subjects possessed, and to repair to the mines in which these things were found, and extract the precious stones that they contained, even from the beds of the seas. And they collected the things that he required in the space of twenty years; after which he sent forth the geometricians and sages, and labourers and artificers, from all the countries and regions, and they dispersed themselves through the deserts and wastes, and tracts and districts, until they came to a desert wherein was a vast open plain, clear from hills and mountains, and in it were springs gushing forth, and rivers running. So they said, “This is the kind of place which the king commanded us to seek, and called us to find.” They then busied themselves in building the city according to the direction of the King Sheddád, king of the whole earth, in its length and breadth; and they made through it the channels for the rivers, and laid the foundations conformably with the prescribed extent. The kings of the various districts of the earth sent thither the jewels and stones, and large and small pearls, and carnelian and pure gold, upon camels over the deserts and wastes, and sent great ships with them over the seas; and a quantity of those things, such as cannot be described nor calculated nor defined, was brought to the workmen, who laboured in the construction of this city three hundred years. And when they had finished it, they came to the king and acquainted him with the completion; and he said to them, “Depart, and make around it impregnable fortifications of great height, and construct around the circuit of the fortifications a thousand pavilions, each with a thousand pillars beneath it, in order that there may be in each pavilion a vizier.” So they went immediately, and did this in twenty years; after which they presented themselves before Sheddád, and informed him of the accomplishment of his desire.“‘He therefore ordered his viziers, who were a thousand in number, and his chief officers, and such of his troops and others as he confided in, to make themselves ready for departure, and to prepare themselves for removal to Irem Zat-el-’Emád, in attendance upon the king of the world, Sheddád, the son of ’A’d. He ordered also such as he chose of his women and his hareem, as his female slaves and his eunuchs, to fit themselves out. And they passed twenty years in equipping themselves. Then Sheddád proceeded with his troops, rejoiced at the accomplishment of his desire, until there remained between him and Irem Zat-el-’Emád one day’s journey, when God sent down upon him and upon the obstinate infidels who accompanied him a loud cry from the heaven of His power, and it destroyed them all by the vehemence of its sound. Neither Sheddád nor any of those who were with him arrived at the city, or came in sight of it, and God obliterated the traces of the road that led to it, but the city remaineth as it was in its place until the hour of the judgment!’“At this narrative, related by Kaab el-Ahbár, Mo’áwiyeh wondered, and he said to him, ‘Can any one of mankind arrive at that city?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Kaab el-Ahbár; ‘a man of the companions of Mohammed (upon whom be blessing and peace!), in appearance like this man who is sitting here, without any doubt.’ Esh-Shaabee also saith, ‘It is related, on the authority of the learned men of Hemyer, in El-Yemen, that when Sheddád and those who were with him were destroyed by the loud cry, his son Sheddád the Less reigned after him; for his father, Sheddád the Greater, had left him as successor to his kingdom, in the land of Hadramót and Seba, on his departure with the troops who accompanied him to Irem Zat-el-’Emád. And as soon as the news reached him of the death of his father, on the way before his arrival at the city of Irem, he gave orders to carry his father’s body from those desert tracts to Hadramót, and to excavate the sepulchre for him in a cavern. And when they had done this, he placed his body in it, upon a couch of gold, and covered the corpse with seventy robes, interwoven with gold and adorned with precious jewels; and he placed at his head a tablet of gold, whereon were inscribed these verses:—“‘Be admonished, O thou who art deceived by a prolonged life! I am Sheddád, the son of ’A’d, the lord of a strong fortress, The lord of power and might, and of excessive valour. The inhabitants of the earth obeyed me, fearing my severity and threats; And I held the east and west under a strong dominion. And a preacher of the true religion invited us to the right way; But we opposed him, and said, Is there no refuge from it? And a loud cry assaulted us from a tract of the distant horizon; Whereupon we fell down like corn in the midst of a plain at harvest; And now, beneath the earth, we await the threatened day.’“Eth-Tha’álibee also saith, ‘It happened that two men entered this cavern, and found at its upper end some steps, and having descended these, they found an excavation, the length whereof was a hundred cubits, and its breadth forty cubits, and its height a hundred cubits. And in the midst of this excavation was a couch of gold, upon which was a man of enormous bulk, occupying its whole length and breadth, covered with ornaments and with robes interwoven with gold and silver; and at his head was a tablet of gold, whereon was an inscription. And they took that tablet, and carried away from the place as much as they could of bars of gold and silver and other things.’”
How fortunate is the master, and how well all goes in his house, when he has a wise servant who listens to his orders and does not obey them, but prefers following his own wisdom. A clever John of this kind was once sent out by his master to seek a lost cow. He stayed away a long time, and the master thought, “Faithful John does not spare any pains over his work!” As, however, he did not come back at all, the master was afraid lest some misfortune had befallen him, and set out himself to look for him. He had to search a long time, but at last he perceived the boy who was running up and down a large field. “Now, dear John,” said the master when he had got up to him, “hast thou found the cow which I sent thee to seek?” “No, master,” he answered, “I have not found the cow, but then I have not looked for it.” “Then what hast thou looked for, John?” “Something better, and that luckily I have found.” “What is that, John?” “Three blackbirds,” answered the boy. “And where are they?” asked the master. “I see one of them, I hear the other, and I am running after the third,” answered the wise boy.Take example by this, do not trouble yourselves about your masters or their orders, but rather do what comes into your head and pleases you, and then you will act just as wisely as prudent John.
It happened that a Fox caught its tail in a trap, and in struggling to release himself lost all of it but the stump. At first he was ashamed to show himself among his fellow foxes. But at last he determined to put a bolder face upon his misfortune, and summoned all the foxes to a general meeting to consider a proposal which he had to place before them. When they had assembled together the Fox proposed that they should all do away with their tails. He pointed out how inconvenient a tail was when they were pursued by their enemies, the dogs; how much it was in the way when they desired to sit down and hold a friendly conversation with one another. He failed to see any advantage in carrying about such a useless encumbrance. “That is all very well,” said one of the older foxes; “but I do not think you would have recommended us to dispense with our chief ornament if you had not happened to lose it yourself.” Distrust interested advice.
Far off the north-east coast of Canada is a group of rugged islands called the Magdalenes. They are a lonely, barren group, where grass and flowers and trees grow scantily. There, the northern storms rage with their wildest fury, and the sea breaks with its greatest force upon the bleak rocks. Numberless birds of strange cries and colours fly constantly about. On days when the storm dashes the sea white and angry against the coast, even the thunder of the surf is almost shut out by the screaming of countless gulls; and on clear days the sun is hidden when the birds rise in clouds from their nests. The “Isle of Birds,” the Jesuits called one of the islands when they first visited the group hundreds of years ago, and it is an “Isle of Birds” still. It is a wild and rock-bound desolate land.But although the islands are barren of grass and flowers and trees, the waters around and between them are rich in fish. “The Kingdom of Fish,” men call the place, for adventurous traders grow wealthy there reaping the harvest of the sea. The greatest product of the waters is the lobster. He always inhabited these northern seas, and about his power in olden times strange tales are told. Away off the coast of one of the islands, you can still see on fine moonlight nights in May, and also during the day once a year, a maiden holding a glass in her hand, combing her long hair, and looking wistfully to the land. Sometimes, too, on calm nights you can still hear her strange song above the murmur of the waves. She is the phantom lady of the Island over whom the Lobster in far away days used his power. She is now a prisoner in the deep, held there as a punishment for her deeds.Now, it happened that long ago when fish were first canned for food there was a great slaughter of sardines—the tiny fish of the sea—by cruel money-greedy traders who caught them, packed them in small boxes, and shipped them to far countries, just as they do to-day. These traders received large money rewards for their labour, for people all over the world liked the little fish and paid a high price for them. The sardines saw their number slowly growing smaller, for, being little, they were helpless against their captors, and among all their family there was great sorrow. In despair they asked the big fish of the sea to help them. At last, in answer to their appeal, a meeting of all the fish in the sea was called. Here the big fish took an oath to help their small cousins in their struggle with man, and to punish when they could all who ate or fished the sardine family. And the little fish rejoiced greatly.One May day a large ship loaded with packed fish was wrecked on the sunken rocks of the Magdalene Islands. Soon the ship was broken up by the heavy surf on the sharp reef, and her cargo was strewn along the shore. It happened that in the cargo were many boxes of sardines, and they too were washed up on the beach by the tide. In the evening, after the sea had calmed, a fair maiden who lived on the Island with her father, a fish trader, walked along the shore alone to view the wreckage of the broken ship. She found, to her delight, one of the boxes in which the sardines were packed. She resolved at once to eat the contents, for she too, like all the world at that time, liked the little fish. But although she tried as hard as she could, she was unable to open the box. She sat by the side of the sea and sang a song of lament, calling on anyone who could to open the box for her. She sang:Away out from the beach a skate-fish was resting on a sand-bar. Hearing the song of the maiden, he quickly swam towards the shore. When he came close enough to hear the words of the song and to know what the box contained, he swam away in great disgust, for he was cousin to the sardines in the box, and came from the same family tree as they. But he was too timid to try to punish the maiden. Then a bold merman heard the song. He had long looked for a land wife to live with him in his home under the sea; now he said, “Here at last is a shore maiden for me,” for the voice of the singer was beautiful to him.So he went to his looking-glass to dress himself in the most genteel fashion. From bright clean sea-weeds and sea-leaves he quickly made himself a new suit, all green and yellow; and he covered his feet with bright-coloured shells, and his neck with pearls which the oyster gave him; and dressing himself carefully, he hastened in the direction of the song. But when he came close enough to hear the words and to know what the box contained, he remembered his oath at the great gathering of the fish, and although he loved the singer he swam hurriedly away. For, like the skate-fish, he too feared to try to punish the maiden.The maiden was now sore distressed, for it was growing late and the moon was already far up in the sky. The box was still unopened, and the girl was hungry for the fish. Going to the edge of the sea, she knocked the box hard against a large rock that lay in the water, hoping thereby to break it open. But the box would not break. Now, it chanced that under the rock a large black lobster lay sleeping quietly after a long battle with an enemy in the sea. The tapping on the roof of his sleeping-place awoke him, and he rubbed his eyes and listened. The maiden was again singing her song:—
Once, in a Seneca village, a party of men was preparing to go on a hunting expedition. In that village was a young man whom people thought was foolish, not strong of mind. He knew that hunters were getting ready for an expedition and he went to one and another and asked to go with them, but no one would let him go.After the hunters started a young woman took pity on the young man, went to him, and said, “Let us marry and go hunting.” He was willing. They started off together and after going some distance camped in the forest. The man couldn’t find any big game, but he killed squirrels and small game. He made traps to catch deer and put them down where he thought deer would come.One morning, when the young man went to look at his traps, he heard some one crying; the sound came nearer and nearer. Soon he saw a woman and two little boys. The woman was crying.As she came up she said to the young man, “Help me, or we will be killed. One of my little boys stole a feather and pulled it to bits and we are going to be killed for it. I want you to shoot the hawk on that tree over there and when the person comes whose feather my little boy took, throw the hawk at him and call out, ‘Here is your feather!'”The man killed the hawk and no sooner had he done so than he heard a terrible roar and noise, and trees began to fall. A man came and stood on a close-by tree. This man had enormous eyes and long hair, and that was all there was of him–just a great head without a body. The young man threw the hawk at him, and said, “Here is your feather.” The Head caught it, said, “Thank you,” and was satisfied.The woman was a panther and the children were her cubs, but to the young man she appeared to be a real woman. She told him that she lived among the rocks and that the Head (Whirlwind) was her neighbor. While he was away from home, her little boy went to his cabin, found his feathers and spoiled one of them. When Whirlwind came home he was angry and chased her.She told the young man that she knew he was poor, that no man would hunt with him, and she said, “Hereafter I will help you and you will get more game than any of the hunters, I do this because you saved me and my boys.”After that the young man killed more game than any other hunter in the village.
A Hart hotly pursued by the hounds fled for refuge into an ox-stall, and buried itself in a truss of hay, leaving nothing to be seen but the tips of his horns. Soon after the Hunters came up and asked if any one had seen the Hart. The stable boys, who had been resting after their dinner, looked round, but could see nothing, and the Hunters went away. Shortly afterwards the master came in, and looking round, saw that something unusual had taken place. He pointed to the truss of hay and said: “What are those two curious things sticking out of the hay?” And when the stable boys came to look they discovered the Hart, and soon made an end of him. He thus learnt that nothing escapes the master’s eye.Note: A hart is a male deer, or a stag.
Once upon a time there was a little woman who had a little room and a little hen. The hen laid an egg and the little woman took it and made a little omelet of it, and put it to cool in the window. Along came a fly and ate it up. Imagine what an omelet that must have been! The little woman went to the magistrate and told him her story. He gave her a club and told her to kill the fly with it wherever she saw it. At that moment a fly lighted on the magistrate’s nose, and the woman, believing it to be the same fly, gave it a blow and broke the magistrate’s nose.
Conall Yellowclaw was a sturdy tenant in Erin: he had three sons. There was at that time a king over every fifth of Erin. It fell out for the children of the king that was near Conall, that they themselves and the children of Conall came to blows. The children of Conall got the upper hand, and they killed the king’s big son. The king sent a message for Conall, and he said to him—”Oh, Conall! what made your sons go to spring on my sons till my big son was killed by your children? but I see that though I follow you revengefully, I shall not be much better for it, and I will now set a thing before you, and if you will do it, I will not follow you with revenge. If you and your sons will get me the brown horse of the king of Lochlann, you shall get the souls of your sons.”“Why,” said Conall, “should not I do the pleasure of the king, though there should be no souls of my sons in dread at all. Hard is the matter you require of me, but I will lose my own life, and the life of my sons, or else I will do the pleasure of the king.”After these words Conall left the king, and he went home: when he got home he was under much trouble and perplexity. When he went to lie down he told his wife the thing the king had set before him. His wife took much sorrow that he was obliged to part from herself, while she knew not if she should see him more.“Oh, Conall,” said she, “why didst not thou let the king do his own pleasure to thy sons, rather than be going now, while I know not if ever I shall see thee more?”When he rose on the morrow, he set himself and his three sons in order, and they took their journey towards Lochlann, and they made no stop but tore through ocean till they reached it. When they reached Lochlann they did not know what they should do. Said the old man to his sons, “Stop ye, and we will seek out the house of the king’s miller.”When they went into the house of the king’s miller, the man asked them to stop there for the night. Conall told the miller that his own children and the children of his king had fallen out, and that his children had killed the king’s son, and there was nothing that would please the king but that he should get the brown horse of the king of Lochlann.“If you will do me a kindness, and will put me in a way to get him, for certain I will pay ye for it.”“The thing is silly that you are come to seek,” said the miller; “for the king has laid his mind on him so greatly that you will not get him in any way unless you steal him; but if you can make out a way, I will keep it secret.”“This is what I am thinking,” said Conall, “since you are working every day for the king, you and your gillies could put myself and my sons into five sacks of bran.”“The plan that has come into your head is not bad,” said the miller.The miller spoke to his gillies, and he said to them to do this, and they put them in five sacks. The king’s gillies came to seek the bran, and they took the five sacks with them, and they emptied them before the horses. The servants locked the door, and they went away.When they rose to lay hand on the brown horse, said Conall, “You shall not do that. It is hard to get out of this; let us make for ourselves five hiding holes, so that if they hear us we may go and hide.” They made the holes, then they laid hands on the horse. The horse was pretty well unbroken, and he set to making a terrible noise through the stable. The king heard the noise. “It must be my brown horse,” said he to his gillies; “find out what is wrong with him.”The servants went out, and when Conall and his sons saw them coming they went into the hiding holes. The servants looked amongst the horses, and they did not find anything wrong; and they returned and they told this to the king, and the king said to them that if nothing was wrong they should go to their places of rest. When the gillies had time to be gone, Conall and his sons laid their hands again on the horse. If the noise was great that he made before, the noise he made now was seven times greater. The king sent a message for his gillies again, and said for certain there was something troubling the brown horse. “Go and look well about him.” The servants went out, and they went to their hiding holes. The servants rummaged well, and did not find a thing. They returned and they told this.“That is marvellous for me,” said the king: “go you to lie down again, and if I notice it again I will go out myself.”When Conall and his sons perceived that the gillies were gone, they laid hands again on the horse, and one of them caught him, and if the noise that the horse made on the two former times was great, he made more this time.“Be this from me,” said the king; “it must be that some one is troubling my brown horse.” He sounded the bell hastily, and when his waiting-man came to him, he said to him to let the stable gillies know that something was wrong with the horse. The gillies came, and the king went with them. When Conall and his sons perceived the company coming they went to the hiding holes.The king was a wary man, and he saw where the horses were making a noise.“Be wary,” said the king, “there are men within the stable, let us get at them somehow.”The king followed the tracks of the men, and he found them. Every one knew Conall, for he was a valued tenant of the king of Erin, and when the king brought them up out of the holes he said, “Oh, Conall, is it you that are here?”“I am, O king, without question, and necessity made me come. I am under thy pardon, and under thine honour, and under thy grace.” He told how it happened to him, and that he had to get the brown horse for the king of Erin, or that his sons were to be put to death. “I knew that I should not get him by asking, and I was going to steal him.”“Yes, Conall, it is well enough, but come in,” said the king. He desired his look-out men to set a watch on the sons of Conall, and to give them meat. And a double watch was set that night on the sons of Conall.“Now, O Conall,” said the king, “were you ever in a harder place than to be seeing your lot of sons hanged tomorrow? But you set it to my goodness and to my grace, and say that it was necessity brought it on you, so I must not hang you. Tell me any case in which you were as hard as this, and if you tell that, you shall get the soul of your youngest son.”“I will tell a case as hard in which I was,” said Conall. “I was once a young lad, and my father had much land, and he had parks of year-old cows, and one of them had just calved, and my father told me to bring her home. I found the cow, and took her with us. There fell a shower of snow. We went into the herd’s bothy, and we took the cow and the calf in with us, and we were letting the shower pass from us. Who should come in but one cat and ten, and one great one-eyed fox-coloured cat as head bard over them. When they came in, in very deed I myself had no liking for their company. ‘Strike up with you,’ said the head bard, ‘why should we be still? and sing a cronan to Conall Yellowclaw.’ I was amazed that my name was known to the cats themselves. When they had sung the cronan, said the head bard, ‘Now, O Conall, pay the reward of the cronan that the cats have sung to thee.’ ‘Well then,’ said I myself, ‘I have no reward whatsoever for you, unless you should go down and take that calf.’ No sooner said I the word than the two cats and ten went down to attack the calf, and in very deed, he did not last them long. ‘Play up with you, why should you be silent? Make a cronan to Conall Yellowclaw,’ said the head bard. Certainly I had no liking at all for the cronan, but up came the one cat and ten, and if they did not sing me a cronan then and there! ‘Pay them now their reward,’ said the great fox-coloured cat. ‘I am tired myself of yourselves and your rewards,’ said I. ‘I have no reward for you unless you take that cow down there.’ They betook themselves to the cow, and indeed she did not last them long.“‘Why will you be silent? Go up and sing a cronan to Conall Yellowclaw,’ said the head bard. And surely, oh king, I had no care for them or for their cronan, for I began to see that they were not good comrades. When they had sung me the cronan they betook themselves down where the head bard was. ‘Pay now their reward, said the head bard; and for sure, oh king, I had no reward for them; and I said to them, ‘I have no reward for you.’ And surely, oh king, there was catterwauling between them. So I leapt out at a turf window that was at the back of the house. I took myself off as hard as I might into the wood. I was swift enough and strong at that time; and when I felt the rustling toirm of the cats after me I climbed into as high a tree as I saw in the place, and one that was close in the top; and I hid myself as well as I might. The cats began to search for me through the wood, and they could not find me; and when they were tired, each one said to the other that they would turn back. ‘But,’ said the one-eyed fox-coloured cat that was commander-in-chief over them, ‘you saw him not with your two eyes, and though I have but one eye, there’s the rascal up in the tree.’ When he had said that, one of them went up in the tree, and as he was coming where I was, I drew a weapon that I had and I killed him. ‘Be this from me!’ said the one-eyed one—’I must not be losing my company thus; gather round the root of the tree and dig about it, and let down that villain to earth.’ On this they gathered about the tree, and they dug about the root, and the first branching root that they cut, she gave a shiver to fall, and I myself gave a shout, and it was not to be wondered at.“There was in the neighbourhood of the wood a priest, and he had ten men with him delving, and he said, ‘There is a shout of a man in extremity and I must not be without replying to it.’ And the wisest of the men said, ‘Let it alone till we hear it again.’ The cats began again digging wildly, and they broke the next root; and I myself gave the next shout, and in very deed it was not a weak one. ‘Certainly,’ said the priest, ‘it is a man in extremity—let us move.’ They set themselves in order for moving. And the cats arose on the tree, and they broke the third root, and the tree fell on her elbow. Then I gave the third shout. The stalwart men hastened, and when they saw how the cats served the tree, they began at them with the spades; and they themselves and the cats began at each other, till the cats ran away. And surely, oh king, I did not move till I saw the last one of them off. And then I came home. And there’s the hardest case in which I ever was; and it seems to me that tearing by the cats were harder than hanging to-morrow by the king of Lochlann.”“Och! Conall,” said the king, “you are full of words. You have freed the soul of your son with your tale; and if you tell me a harder case than that you will get your second youngest son, and then you will have two sons.”“Well then,” said Conall, “on condition that thou dost that, I will tell thee how I was once in a harder case than to be in thy power in prison to-night.”“Let’s hear,” said the king.“I was then,” said Conall, “quite a young lad, and I went out hunting, and my father’s land was beside the sea, and it was rough with rocks, caves, and rifts. When I was going on the top of the shore, I saw as if there were a smoke coming up between two rocks, and I began to look what might be the meaning of the smoke coming up there. When I was looking, what should I do but fall; and the place was so full of heather, that neither bone nor skin was broken. I knew not how I should get out of this. I was not looking before me, but I kept looking overhead the way I came—and thinking that the day would never come that I could get up there.It was terrible for me to be there till I should die. I heard a great clattering coming, and what was there but a great giant and two dozen of goats with him, and a buck at their head. And when the giant had tied the goats, he came up and he said to me, ‘Hao O! Conall, it’s long since my knife has been rusting in my pouch waiting for thy tender flesh.’ ‘Och!’ said I, ‘it’s not much you will be bettered by me, though you should tear me asunder; I will make but one meal for you. But I see that you are one-eyed. I am a good leech, and I will give you the sight of the other eye.’ The giant went and he drew the great caldron on the site of the fire. I myself was telling him how he should heat the water, so that I should give its sight to the other eye. I got heather and I made a rubber of it, and I set him upright in the caldron. I began at the eye that was well, pretending to him that I would give its sight to the other one, till I left them as bad as each other; and surely it was easier to spoil the one that was well than to give sight to the other.“When he saw that he could not see a glimpse, and when I myself said to him that I would get out in spite of him, he gave a spring out of the water, and he stood in the mouth of the cave, and he said that he would have revenge for the sight of his eye. I had but to stay there crouched the length of the night, holding in my breath in such a way that he might not find out where I was.“When he felt the birds calling in the morning, and knew that the day was, he said—’Art thou sleeping? Awake and let out my lot of goats.’ I killed the buck. He cried, ‘I do believe that thou art killing my buck.’“‘I am not,’ said I, ‘but the ropes are so tight that I take long to loose them.’ I let out one of the goats, and there he was caressing her, and he said to her, ‘There thou art thou shaggy, hairy white goat; and thou seest me, but I see thee not.’ I kept letting them out by the way of one and one, as I flayed the buck, and before the last one was out I had him flayed bag-wise. Then I went and I put my legs in place of his legs, and my hands in place of his forelegs, and my head in place of his head, and the horns on top of my head, so that the brute might think that it was the buck. I went out. When I was going out the giant laid his hand on me, and he said, ‘There thou art, thou pretty buck; thou seest me, but I see thee not.’ When I myself got out, and I saw the world about me, surely, oh, king! joy was on me. When I was out and had shaken the skin off me, I said to the brute, ‘I am out now in spite of you.’“‘Aha!’ said he, ‘hast thou done this to me. Since thou wert so stalwart that thou hast got out, I will give thee a ring that I have here; keep the ring, and it will do thee good.’“‘I will not take the ring from you,’ said I, ‘but throw it, and I will take it with me.’ He threw the ring on the flat ground, I went myself and I lifted the ring, and I put it on my finger. When he said me then, ‘Is the ring fitting thee?’ I said to him, ‘It is.’ Then he said, ‘Where art thou, ring?’ And the ring said, ‘I am here.’ The brute went and went towards where the ring was speaking, and now I saw that I was in a harder case than ever I was. I drew a dirk. I cut the finger from off me, and I threw it from me as far as I could out on the loch, and there was a great depth in the place. He shouted, ‘Where art thou, ring?’ And the ring said, ‘I am here,’ though it was on the bed of ocean. He gave a spring after the ring, and out he went in the sea. And I was as pleased then when I saw him drowning, as though you should grant my own life and the life of my two sons with me, and not lay any more trouble on me.“When the giant was drowned I went in, and I took with me all he had of gold and silver, and I went home, and surely great joy was on my people when I arrived. And as a sign now look, the finger is off me.”“Yes, indeed, Conall, you are wordy and wise,” said the king. “I see the finger is off you. You have freed your two sons, but tell me a case in which you ever were that is harder than to be looking on your son being hanged tomorrow, and you shall get the soul of your eldest son.”“Then went my father,” said Conall, “and he got me a wife, and I was married. I went to hunt. I was going beside the sea, and I saw an island over in the midst of the loch, and I came there where a boat was with a rope before her, and a rope behind her, and many precious things within her. I looked myself on the boat to see how I might get part of them. I put in the one foot, and the other foot was on the ground, and when I raised my head what was it but the boat over in the middle of the loch, and she never stopped till she reached the island. When I went out of the boat the boat returned where she was before. I did not know now what I should do. The place was without meat or clothing, without the appearance of a house on it. I came out on the top of a hill. Then I came to a glen; I saw in it, at the bottom of a hollow, a woman with a child, and the child was naked on her knee, and she had a knife in her hand. She tried to put the knife to the throat of the babe, and the babe began to laugh in her face, and she began to cry, and she threw the knife behind her. I thought to myself that I was near my foe and far from my friends, and I called to the woman, ‘What are you doing here?’ And she said to me, ‘What brought you here?’ I told her myself word upon word how I came. ‘Well then,’ said she, ‘it was so I came also.’ She showed me to the place where I should come in where she was. I went in, and I said to her, ‘What was the matter that you were putting the knife on the neck of the child?’ ‘It is that he must be cooked for the giant who is here, or else no more of my world will be before me.’ Just then we could be hearing the footsteps of the giant, ‘What shall I do? what shall I do?’ cried the woman. I went to the caldron, and by luck it was not hot, so in it I got just as the brute came in. ‘Hast thou boiled that youngster for me?’ he cried. ‘He’s not done yet,’ said she, and I cried out from the caldron, ‘Mammy, mammy, it’s boiling I am.’ Then the giant laughed out HAI, HAW, HOGARAICH, and heaped on wood under the caldron.“And now I was sure I would scald before I could get out of that. As fortune favoured me, the brute slept beside the caldron. There I was scalded by the bottom of the caldron. When she perceived that he was asleep, she set her mouth quietly to the hole that was in the lid, and she said to me ‘was I alive?’ I said I was. I put up my head, and the hole in the lid was so large, that my head went through easily. Everything was coming easily with me till I began to bring up my hips. I left the skin of my hips behind me, but I came out. When I got out of the caldron I knew not what to do; and she said to me that there was no weapon that would kill him but his own weapon. I began to draw his spear and every breath that he drew I thought I would be down his throat, and when his breath came out I was back again just as far. But with every ill that befell me I got the spear loosed from him. Then I was as one under a bundle of straw in a great wind for I could not manage the spear. And it was fearful to look on the brute, who had but one eye in the midst of his face; and it was not agreeable for the like of me to attack him. I drew the dart as best I could, and I set it in his eye. When he felt this he gave his head a lift, and he struck the other end of the dart on the top of the cave, and it went through to the back of his head. And he fell cold dead where he was; and you may be sure, oh king, that joy was on me. I myself and the woman went out on clear ground, and we passed the night there. I went and got the boat with which I came, and she was no way lightened, and took the woman and the child over on dry land; and I returned home.”The king of Lochlann’s mother was putting on a fire at this time, and listening to Conall telling the tale about the child.“Is it you,” said she, “that were there?”“Well then,” said he, “’twas I.”“Och! och!” said she, “’twas I that was there, and the king is the child whose life you saved; and it is to you that life thanks should be given.” Then they took great joy.The king said, “Oh, Conall, you came through great hardships. And now the brown horse is yours, and his sack full of the most precious things that are in my treasury.”They lay down that night, and if it was early that Conall rose, it was earlier than that that the queen was on foot making ready. He got the brown horse and his sack full of gold and silver and stones of great price, and then Conall and his three sons went away, and they returned home to the Erin realm of gladness. He left the gold and silver in his house, and he went with the horse to the king. They were good friends evermore. He returned home to his wife, and they set in order a feast; and that was a feast if ever there was one, oh son and brother.
O-way-way-ham-by-hoh, old man Shrivelled Corn had a beautiful daughter named White Corn. White Corn was a widow with two sons both named Fire. They all lived together at San Juan.Now Faint Star lived up in the sky, and was in love with the beautiful White Corn. Every night Faint Star came to beg White Corn to go up and live with him and be Mrs. Faint Star.The Sun was in love with White Corn too, so every day he came to her house to beg her to be Mrs. Sun.But White Corn loved her old father and her little sons Fire, so she would not go with either of them.Faint Star grew tired of begging, so one night he slipped down to old man Shrivelled Corn’s house and stole White Corn away. He took her away up to his house in the sky.When the Sun came next day, he found that White Corn had been taken away. “In four days I’ll meet that star,” said the Sun, “and take White Corn away to live with me.”Sure enough in four days the Sun took his peace pipe with some strong tobacco and went to Faint Star’s house. Faint Star said good-morning to the Sun and invited him to sit down and tell what the Sun had come to see him about. They sat down and the Sun took out his peace pipe and filled it with the strong tobacco. He was accustomed to that strong tobacco, so when he took a puff on the peace pipe, it did not hurt him at all. He passed the pipe to Faint Star for him to have his turn at a smoke. But when Faint Star drew a puff of the strong tobacco smoke he fell over dead. Then the Sun caught up White Corn in his arms and carried her away to his house.The two little Fire boys grew to be big boys and all the time they were wondering how they could ever get their beautiful mother back again. They knew that the Sun had stolen her to live in his house; but they did not know how they could reach the Sun’s house to get her away. Now that they were big the Fire boys decided to try to get to their mother anyway. So they went East and climbed over the highest mountain they could find, looking for a path to the Sun. While they were on top of the high mountain they saw a tiny line of smoke coming from the valley below them. They ran down to see from whence that smoke came. What do you think they found? Why, old Grandmother	Spider cooking her dinner of corn meal mush. Her fire was made of tiny straws and her pot was no bigger than your thimble; but she invited the Fire boys to sit down and share her dinner with her. The Fire boys laughed:“All of your dinner, Grandmother Spider, would not even be a taste for one of us!”“Never mind,” replied Grandmother Spider, “you are tired and hungry from your long journey and I bid you eat.”Just for fun the Fire boys dipped their fingers into the mush to taste it. It was delicious and as fast as they ate it, more mush came into the little pot. They ate and ate until they had a plenty; and when they finished, the little thimble-pot was still full of mush.“Now,” said Grandmother Spider, “you are ready to continue your journey and I will help you get your mother White Corn back from the Sun.”She took from her pocket a long peace pipe, a buckskin bag of tobacco and a little bag of medicine.“Take these with you, Fire boys, and when you reach the Sun’s house, fill the pipe with tobacco and smoke it. But when you pass the pipe to the Sun for his turn to smoke, drop this medicine into the pipe quickly. Now shut your eyes tight and do not open them until you hear the Sun speak to you.”The boys took the pipe, the tobacco and the medicine and then shut their eyes as Grandmother Spider had told them. Then Grandmother Spider spun a web all the way up to the Sun’s house. She took the Fire boys up on the web and set them down at the Sun’s door.“Good-morning, Strangers,” said the Sun, “what do you wish at my house?”The Fire boys opened their eyes.“Let us smoke together,” replied the Fire boys, “while we tell you our errand.”So they all sat down to smoke. The Fire boys took out the pipe that Grandmother Spider had given them and filled it with tobacco. Then each of them drew a long puff from the pipe; but when they passed it to the Sun, they dropped in the medicine, just as Grandmother Spider had told them to do. The Sun drew a puff from the pipe and immediately he fell back fast asleep. All the earth and everywhere grew dark. The Fire boys grabbed White Corn from the Sun’s house and ran outside. Grandmother Spider was there waiting.“Shut your eyes quick, boys.”The Fire boys shut their eyes and when they opened them again they were safely back in old man Shrivelled Corn’s house with their beautiful mother White Corn and the Sun was shining outside once mole.Author Note: San Juan Pueblo
Once upon a time there lived a poor knight who had a great many children, and found it very hard to get enough for them to eat. One day he sent his eldest son, Rosald, a brave and honest youth, to the neighbouring town to do some business, and here Rosald met a young man named Geirald, with whom he made friends.Now Geirald was the son of a rich man, who was proud of the boy, and had all his life allowed him to do whatever he fancied, and, luckily for the father, he was prudent and sensible, and did not waste money, as many other rich young men might have done. For some time he had set his heart on travelling into foreign countries, and after he had been talking for a little while to Rosald, he asked if his new friend would be his companion on his journey.‘There is nothing I should like better,’ answered Rosald, shaking his head sorrowfully; ‘but my father is very poor, and he could never give me the money.’‘Oh, if that is your only difficulty, it is all right,’ cried Geirald. ‘My father has more money than he knows what to do with, and he will give me as much as I want for both of us; only, there is one thing you must promise me, Rosald, that, supposing we have any adventures, you will let the honour and glory of them fall to me.’‘Yes, of course, that is only fair,’ answered Rosald, who never cared about putting himself forward. ‘But I cannot go without telling my parents. I am sure they will think me lucky to get such a chance.’As soon as the business was finished, Rosald hastened home. His parents were delighted to hear of his good fortune, and his father gave him his own sword, which was growing rusty for want of use, while his mother saw that his leather jerkin was in order.‘Be sure you keep the promise you made to Geirald,’ said she, as she bade him good-bye, ‘and, come what may, see that you never betray him.’Full of joy Rosald rode off, and the next day he and Geirald started off to seek adventures. To their disappointment their own land was so well governed that nothing out of the common was very likely to happen, but directly they crossed the border into another kingdom all seemed lawlessness and confusion.They had not gone very far, when, riding across a mountain, they caught a glimpse of several armed men hiding amongst some trees in their path, and remembered suddenly some talk they had heard of a band of twelve robbers who lay in wait for rich travellers. The robbers were more like savage beasts than men, and lived somewhere at the top of the mountain in caves and holes in the ground. They were all called ‘Hankur,’ and were distinguished one from another by the name of a colour–blue, grey, red, and so on, except their chief, who was known as Hankur the Tall. All this and more rushed into the minds of the two young men as they saw the flash of their swords in the moonlight.‘It is impossible to fight them–they are twelve to two,’ whispered Geirald, stopping his horse in the path. ‘We had much better ride back and take the lower road. It would be stupid to throw away our lives like this.’‘Oh, we can’t turn back,’ answered Rosald, ‘we should be ashamed to look anyone in the face again! And, besides, it is a grand opportunity to show what we are made of. Let us tie up our horses here, and climb up the rocks so that we can roll stones down on them.’‘Well, we might try that, and then we shall always have our horses,’ said Geirald. So they went up the rocks silently and carefully.The robbers were lying all ready, expecting every moment to see their victims coming round the corner a few yards away, when a shower of huge stones fell on their heads, killing half the band. The others sprang up the rock, but as they reached the top the sword of Rosald swung round, and one man after another rolled down into the valley. At last the chief managed to spring up, and, grasping Rosald by the waist, flung away his sword, and the two fought desperately, their bodies swaying always nearer the edge. It seemed as if Rosald, being the smaller of the two, MUST fall over, when, with his left hand, he drew the robber’s sword out of its sheath and plunged it into his heart. Then he took from the dead man a beautiful ring set with a large stone, and put it on his own finger.The fame of this wonderful deed soon spread through the country, and people would often stop Geirald’s horse, and ask leave to see the robber’s ring, which was said to have been stolen from the father of the reigning king. And Geirald showed them the ring with pride, and listened to their words of praise, and no one would ever have guessed anyone else had destroyed the robbers.In a few days they left the kingdom and rode on to another, where they thought they would stop through the remainder of the winter, for Geirald liked to be comfortable, and did not care about travelling through ice and snow. But the king would only grant them leave to stop on condition that, before the winter was ended, they should give him some fresh proof of the courage of which he had heard so much. Rosald’s heart was glad at the king’s message, and as for Geirald, he felt that as long as Rosald was there all would go well. So they both bowed low and replied that it was the king’s place to command and theirs to obey.‘Well, then,’ said his Majesty, ‘this is what I want you to do: In the north-east part of my kingdom there dwells a giant, who has an iron staff twenty yards long, and he is so quick in using it, that even fifty knights have no chance against him. The bravest and strongest young men of my court have fallen under the blows of that staff; but, as you overcame the twelve robbers so easily, I feel that I have reason to hope that you may be able to conquer the giant. In three days from this you will set out.’‘We will be ready, your Majesty,’ answered Rosald; but Geirald remained silent.‘How can we possibly fight against a giant that has killed fifty knights?’ cried Geirald, when they were outside the castle. ‘The king only wants to get rid of us! He won’t think about us for the next three days–that is one comfort–so we shall have plenty of time to cross the borders of the kingdom and be out of reach.’‘We mayn’t be able to kill the giant, but we certainly can’t run away till we have tried,’ answered Rosald. ‘Besides, think how glorious it will be if we DO manage to kill him! I know what sort of weapon I shall use. Come with me now, and I will see about it.’ And, taking his friend by the arm, he led him into a shop where he bought a huge lump of solid iron, so big that they could hardly lift it between them. However, they just managed to carry it to a blacksmith’s where Rosald directed that it should be beaten into a thick club, with a sharp spike at one end. When this was done to his liking he took it home under his arm.Very early on the third morning the two young men started on their journey, and on the fourth day they reached the giant’s cave before he was out of bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps, the giant got up and went to the entrance to see who was coming, and Rosald, expecting something of the sort, struck him such a blow on the forehead that he fell to the ground. Then, before he could rise to his feet again, Rosald drew out his sword and cut off his head.‘It was not so difficult after all, you see,’ he said, turning to Geirald. And placing the giant’s head in a leathern wallet which was slung over his back, they began their journey to the castle.As they drew near the gates, Rosald took the head from the wallet and handed it to Geirald, whom he followed into the king’s presence.‘The giant will trouble you no more,’ said Geirald, holding out the head. And the king fell on his neck and kissed him, and cried joyfully that he was the ‘bravest knight in all the world, and that a feast should be made for him and Rosald, and that the great deed should be proclaimed throughout the kingdom.’ And Geirald’s heart swelled with pride, and he almost forgot that it was Rosald and not he, who had slain the giant.By-and-by a whisper went round that a beautiful lady who lived in the castle would be present at the feast, with twenty-four lovely maidens, her attendants. The lady was the queen of her own country, but as her father and mother had died when she was a little girl, she had been left in the care of this king who was her uncle.She was now old enough to govern her own kingdom, but her subjects did not like being ruled by a woman, and said that she must find a husband to help her in managing her affairs. Prince after prince had offered himself, but the young queen would have nothing to say to any of them, and at last told her ministers that if she was to have a husband at all she must choose him for herself, as she would certainly not marry any of those whom they had selected for her. The ministers replied that in that case she had better manage her kingdom alone, and the queen, who knew nothing about business, got things into such a confusion that at last she threw them up altogether, and went off to her uncle.Now when she heard how the two young men had slain the giant, her heart was filled with admiration of their courage, and she declared that if a feast was held she would certainly be present at it.And so she was; and when the feast was over she asked the king, her guardian, if he would allow the two heroes who had killed the robbers and slain the giant to fight a tourney the next day with one of her pages. The king gladly gave his consent, and ordered the lists to be made ready, never doubting that two great champions would be eager for such a chance of adding to their fame. Little did he guess that Geirald had done all he could to persuade Rosald to steal secretly out of the castle during the night, ‘for,’ said he, ‘I don’t believe they are pages at all, but well-proved knights, and how can we, so young and untried, stand up against them?’‘The honour will be all the higher if we gain the day,’ answered Rosald; but Geirald would listen to nothing, and only declared that he did not care about honour, and would rather be alive than have every honour in the world heaped upon him. Go he would, and as Rosald had sworn to give him his company, he must come with him.Rosald was much grieved when he heard these words, but he knew that it was useless attempting to persuade Geirald, and turned his thoughts to forming some plan to prevent this disgraceful flight. Suddenly his face brightened. ‘Let us change clothes,’ he said, ‘and I will do the fighting, while you shall get the glory. Nobody will ever know.’ And to this Geirald readily consented.Whether Geirald was right or not in thinking that the so-called page was really a well-proved knight, it is certain that Rosald’s task was a very hard one. Three times they came together with a crash which made their horses reel; once Rosald knocked the helmet off his foe, and received in return such a blow that he staggered in his saddle. Shouts went up from the lookers-on, as first one and then the other seemed gaining the victory; but at length Rosald planted his spear in the armour which covered his adversary’s breast and bore him steadily backward. ‘Unhorsed! unhorsed!’ cried the people; and Rosald then himself dismounted and helped his adversary to rise.In the confusion that followed it was easy for Rosald to slip away and return Geirald his proper clothes. And in these, torn and dusty with the fight, Geirald answered the king’s summons to come before him.‘You have done what I expected you to do,’ said he, ‘and now, choose your reward.’‘Grant me, sire, the hand of the queen, your niece,’ replied the young man, bowing low, ‘and I will defend her kingdom against all her enemies.’‘She could choose no better husband,’ said the king, ‘and if she consents I do.’ And he turned towards the queen, who had not been present during the fight, but had just slipped into a seat by his right hand. Now the queen’s eyes were very sharp, and it seemed to her that the man who stood before her, tall and handsome though he might be, was different in many slight ways, and in one in particular, from the man who had fought the tourney. How there could be any trickery she could not understand, and why the real victor should be willing to give up his prize to another was still stranger; but something in her heart warned her to be careful. She answered: ‘You may be satisfied, uncle, but I am not. One more proof I must have; let the two young men now fight against each other. The man I marry must be the man who killed the robbers and the giant, and overcame my page.’ Geirald’s face grew pale as he heard these words. He knew there was no escape from him now, though he did not doubt for one moment that Rosald would keep his compact loyally to the last. But how would it be possible that even Rosald should deceive the watchful eyes of the king and his court, and still more those of the young queen whom he felt uneasily had suspected him from the first?The tourney was fought, and in spite of Geirald’s fears Rosald managed to hang back to make attacks which were never meant to succeed, and to allow strokes which he could easily have parried to attain their end. At length, after a great show of resistance, he fell heavily to the ground. And as he fell he knew that it was not alone the glory that was his rightfully which he gave up, but the hand of the queen that was more precious still.But Geirald did not even wait to see if he was wounded; he went straight to the wall where the royal banner waved and claimed the reward which was now his.The crowd of watchers turned towards the queen, expecting to see her stoop and give some token to the victor. Instead, to the surprise of everyone, she merely smiled gracefully, and said that before she bestowed her hand one more test must be imposed, but this should be the last. The final tourney should be fought; Geirald and Rosald should meet singly two knights of the king’s court, and he who could unhorse his foe should be master of herself and of her kingdom. The combat was fixed to take place at ten o’clock the following day.All night long Geirald walked about his room, not daring to face the fight that lay in front of him, and trying with all his might to discover some means of escaping it. All night long he moved restlessly from door to window; and when the trumpets sounded, and the combatants rode into the field, he alone was missing. The king sent messengers to see what had become of him, and he was found, trembling with fear, hiding under his bed. After that there was no need of any further proof. The combat was declared unnecessary, and the queen pronounced herself quite satisfied, and ready to accept Rosald as her husband.‘You forgot one thing,’ she said, when they were alone. ‘I recognized my father’s ring which Hankur the Tall had stolen, on the finger of your right hand, and I knew that it was you and not Geirald who had slain the robber band. I was the page who fought you, and again I saw the ring on your finger, though it was absent from his when he stood before me to claim the prize. That was why I ordered the combat between you, though your faith to your word prevented my plan being successful, and I had to try another. The man who keeps his promise at all costs to himself is the man I can trust, both for myself and for my people.’So they were married, and returned to their own kingdom, which they ruled well and happily. And many years after a poor beggar knocked at the palace gates and asked for money, for the sake of days gone by–and this was Geirald.
Rosy-red was a sweet little girl, with beautiful blue eyes, soft pink cheeks and glorious ruddy-gold hair of the tinge that artists love to paint. Her mother died the day she was born, but her grandmother looked after her with such tender care that Rosy-red regarded her as her mother. She was very happy, was Rosy-red. All day long she sang, as she tripped gaily about the house or the woods that surrounded it, and so melodious was her voice that the birds gathered on the trees to listen to her and to encourage her to continue, by daintily chirruping whenever she ceased.Merrily Rosy-red performed all the little duties her grandmother called upon her to do, and on festivals she was allowed to wear a delightful pair of red leather slippers, her father’s gift to her on her first birthday. Now, although neither she nor her father knew it, they were magic slippers which grew larger as her feet grew. Rosy-red was only a child and so did not know that slippers don’t usually grow. Her grandmother knew the secret of the slippers, but she did not tell, and her father had become too moody and too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts and affairs to notice anything.One day—Rosy-red remembered it only too sadly—she returned from the woods to find her grandmother gone and three strange women in the house. She stopped suddenly in the midst of her singing and her cheeks turned pale, for she did not like the appearance of the strangers.“Who are you?” she asked.“I am your new mother,” answered the eldest of the three, “and these are my daughters, your two new sisters.”Rosy-red trembled with fear. They were all three so ugly, and she began to cry.Her new sisters scolded her for that and would have beaten her had not her father appeared. He spoke kindly, telling her he had married again, because he was lonely and that her step-mother and step-sisters would be good to her. But Rosy-red knew different. She hastened away to her own little room and hid her slippers of which she was very proud.“They have turned my dear granny out of doors; they will take from me my beautiful slippers,” she sobbed.After that, Rosy-red sang no more. She became a somber girl and a drudge. The birds could not understand. They followed her through the woods, but she was silent, as if she had been stricken dumb, and her eyes always seemed eager to be shedding tears. Also, she was too busy to notice her feathered friends.She had to collect firewood for the home, to draw water from the well and struggle along with the heavy bucket whose weight made her arms and her back ache with pain. Sometimes, too, her white arms were scarred with bruises, for her cruel and selfish step-sisters did not hesitate to beat her. Often they went out to parties, or to dances, and on these occasions she had to act as their maid and help them to dress. Rosy-red did not mind; she was only happy when they were out of the house. Then only did she sing softly to herself, and the birds came to listen.And thus many unhappy years passed away.Once, when her father was away from home, her step-sisters went off to a wedding dance. They told her not to forget to draw water from the well, and warned her that if she forgot, as she did the last time, they would beat her without mercy when they returned.So Rosy-red, tired though she was, went out in the darkness to draw water. She lowered the bucket, but the cord broke and the pail fell to the bottom of the well. She ran back home for a long stick with a hook at the end of it to recover the bucket, and as she put it into the water she sang:Swing and sweep till all does clingAnd to the surface safely bring.Now it so happened that a sleeping jinn dwelt at the bottom of the well. He could only be awakened by a spell, and although Rosy-red did not know it, the words she uttered, which she had once heard her granny use, were the spell.The jinn awoke, and he was so delighted with the sweet voice that he promptly decided to help the girl whom he saw peering down into the water. He fastened the bucket to the stick and, taking some jewels from a treasure of which he was the guardian, he put them inside.“Oh, how beautiful,” cried Rosy-red when she saw the glittering gems. “They are ever so much nicer than those my sisters put on to go to the ball.”Then she sat thinking for a while and a bright idea came into her head.“I will give these jewels to my sisters,” she said. “Perhaps they will be kinder to me.”She waited impatiently until the sisters returned from the dance and immediately told them. For a moment they were too dazed to speak when they saw the sparkling precious stones. Then they looked meaningly at one another and asked how she came by them. Rosy told them of the words she had sung.“Ah, we thought so,” said the sisters, to her horror. “The jewels are ours. We hid them in the well for safety. You have stolen them.”In vain Rosy-red protested. Her sisters would not listen. They beat her severely, told her to hurry off to bed, and then, snatching the bucket, they hurried off to the well. They lowered the bucket and sang the words that Rosy-red had sung. At least they thought they sang; but their voices were harsh. The sleeping jinn awoke again, but he did not like the croaking sound the sisters made.“Ha, ha!” he laughed. “I will teach you to disturb my sleep with hideous noises and shall punish such pranks played on me. Here are some more croakers,” and he filled the bucket with slimy toads and frogs.The sisters were so enraged that they ran back home and dragged poor Rosy-red from her bed.“You cat, you thief,” screamed one.“You cheat,” exclaimed the other. “Off you go. Not another day can you remain in this house.”Rosy-red was too much taken by surprise to say anything. It was an outrage to turn her out of her father’s house while he was away on a journey, but the thought came to her that she could hardly be less happy living alone in the woods.She had only time to snatch her pretty red slippers, and as soon as she was out of sight of the house she put them on. It made her feel less miserable. The sun was now rising and when its rays shone on her she began to sing. With her old friends, the birds, twittering all about her, she felt quite happy.On and on she walked, much farther into the woods than ever before. When she grew tired there was always a pleasant shady nook where she could rest; when she became hungry, there were fruit trees in abundance; and when she was thirsty she always came to a spring of clear, fresh water. The magic slippers guided her. All day long she wandered, and when toward evening she noticed her slippers were muddy she took them off to clean. And then darkness fell. It began to rain and she grew frightened. She crouched under a tree until she noticed a light some short distance away. She got up and walked toward it.When quite close, she saw that the light came from a cave dwelling. An old woman came out to meet her. It was her grandmother, but so many years had passed that Rosy-red did not recognize her. Granny, however, at once knew her. “Come in, my child, and take shelter from the rain,” she said kindly, and Rosy-red was only too glad to accept the invitation.The inside of the cave was quite cosy, and Rosy-red, who was almost completely exhausted, quickly fell fast asleep. She awoke with a start.“My pretty red slippers,” she cried. “Where are they?”She put her hand in the pocket of her tattered dress, but could only find one.“I must have lost the other,” she sobbed. “I must go out and look for it.”“No, no,” said granny. “You cannot do that. A storm is raging.”Rosy-red peered out through the door of the cave and drew back in fear as she saw the lightning flash and heard the thunder rolling. She sobbed herself to sleep again, and this time was awakened by voices. She feared it might be her sisters who had discovered her hiding place and had come to drag her forcibly back home again. So she crept into a corner of the cave and listened intently.A man was speaking.“Know you to whom this red slipper belongs?” he was asking. “I found it in the woods.”Rosy-red was on the point of rushing out to regain her lost slipper when her granny’s voice—very loud on purpose that she should hear—restrained her.“No, no, I know not,” she repeated again and again, and at length the man departed.Granny came back into the cave and said, “I am sorry, Rosy-red, but for aught I knew, he might be a messenger from your cruel sisters; and, of course, I cannot let anyone take you back to them.”Next day, the man called again, this time with several attendants. Again, Rosy-red concealed herself.“I am a chieftain’s son, and wealthy,” said the man. “I must find the wearer of this shoe. Only a graceful and beautiful girl can wear such a dainty slipper.”Rosy-red did not know whether to be more frightened or pleased, when her granny told her the man was very handsome and of noble bearing.Day after day he came, each time with more retainers, and, finally, he arrived mounted on a richly caparisoned camel with a hundred and one followers, all mounted as he was.“The girl I seek is here,” he said. “Deny it no longer. My servants have scoured the woods and the whole neighborhood. One is prepared to swear he heard a young girl singing yesterday.”Rosy-red saw that concealment was no longer possible. She liked the man’s voice, and she stepped out bravely, wearing her one slipper.The stranger, bowing low before her, held out the other, and Rosy-red took it and put it on. It fitted perfectly.“Many girls have tried to put on that shoe,” said the young man, “but all have failed. And I have sworn to make the wearer my bride. I am a chieftain’s son, and thou shalt be a princess.”So Rosy-red left the cave with her granny, and mounting a camel was led through the woods to her new home where she knew naught but happiness and the days of her sufferings were quite forgotten. And always she wore her magic red slippers.
There were once five peas in one shell; they were green, and the shell was green, and so they believed that the whole world must be green also, which was a very natural conclusion.The shell grew, and the peas grew; and as they grew they arranged themselves all in a row. The sun shone without and warmed the shell, and the rain made it clear and transparent; it looked mild and agreeable in broad daylight and dark at night, just as it should. And the peas, as they sat there, grew bigger and bigger, and more thoughtful as they mused, for they felt there must be something for them to do.“Are we to sit here forever?” asked one. “Shall we not become hard, waiting here so long? It seems to me there must be something outside; I feel sure of it.”Weeks passed by; the peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow.“All the world is turning yellow, I suppose,” said they—and perhaps they were right.Suddenly they felt a pull at the shell. It was torn off and held in human hands; then it was slipped into the pocket of a jacket, together with other full pods.“Now we shall soon be let out,” said one, and that was just what they all wanted.“I should like to know which of us will travel farthest,” said the smallest of the five; “and we shall soon see.”“What is to happen will happen,” said the largest pea.“Crack!” went the shell, and the five peas rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a child’s hand. A little boy was holding them tightly. He said they were fine peas for his pea-shooter, and immediately he put one in and shot it out.“Now I am flying out into the wide world,” said the pea. “Catch me if you can.” And he was gone in a moment.“I intend to fly straight to the sun,” said the second. “That is a shell that will suit me exactly, for it lets itself be seen.” And away he went.“We will go to sleep wherever we find ourselves,” said the next two; “we shall still be rolling onwards.” And they did fall to the floor and roll about, but they got into the pea-shooter for all that. “We will go farthest of any,” said they.“What is to happen will happen,” exclaimed the last one, as he was shot out of the pea-shooter. Up he flew against an old board under a garret window and fell into a little crevice which was almost filled with moss and soft earth. The moss closed itself about him, and there he lay—a captive indeed, but not unnoticed by God.“What is to happen will happen,” said he to himself.Within the little garret lived a poor woman, who went out to clean stoves, chop wood into small pieces, and do other hard work, for she was both strong and industrious. Yet she remained always poor, and at home in the garret lay her only daughter, not quite grown up and very delicate and weak. For a whole year she had kept her bed, and it seemed as if she could neither die nor get well.“She is going to her little sister,” said the woman. “I had only the two children, and it was not an easy thing to support them; but the good God provided for one of them by taking her home to himself. The other was left to me, but I suppose they are not to be separated, and my sick girl will soon go to her sister in heaven.”All day long the sick girl lay quietly and patiently, while her mother went out to earn money.Spring came, and early one morning the sun shone through the little window and threw his rays mildly and pleasantly over the floor of the room. Just as the mother was going to her work, the sick girl fixed her gaze on the lowest pane of the window. “Mother,” she exclaimed, “what can that little green thing be that peeps in at the window? It is moving in the wind.”The mother stepped to the window and half opened it. “Oh!” she said, “there is actually a little pea that has taken root and is putting out its green leaves. How could it have got into this crack? Well, now, here is a little garden for you to amuse yourself with.” So the bed of the sick girl was drawn nearer to the window, that she might see the budding plant; and the mother went forth to her work.“Mother, I believe I will be well,” said the sick child in the evening. “The sun has shone in here so bright and warm today, and the little pea is growing so fast, that I feel better, too, and think I shall get up and go out into the warm sunshine again.”“God grant it!” said the mother, but she did not believe it would be so. She took a little stick and propped up the green plant which had given her daughter such pleasure, so that it might not be broken by the winds. She tied the piece of string to the window-sill and to the upper part of the frame, so that the pea tendrils might have something to twine round. And the plant shot up so fast that one could almost see it grow from day to day.“A flower is really coming,” said the mother one morning. At last she was beginning to let herself hope that her little sick daughter might indeed recover. She remembered that for some time the child had spoken more cheerfully, and that during the last few days she had raised herself in bed in the morning to look with sparkling eyes at her little garden which contained but a single pea plant.A week later the sick girl sat up by the open window a whole hour, feeling quite happy in the warm sunshine, while outside grew the little plant, and on it a pink pea blossom in full bloom. The little maiden bent down and gently kissed the delicate leaves. This day was like a festival to her.“Our heavenly Father himself has planted that pea and made it grow and flourish, to bring joy to you and hope to me, my blessed child,” said the happy mother, and she smiled at the flower as if it had been an angel from God.But what became of the other peas? Why, the one who flew out into the wide world and said, “Catch me if you can,” fell into a gutter on the roof of a house and ended his travels in the mouth of a pigeon. The two lazy ones were carried quite as far and were of some use, for they also were eaten by pigeons; but the fourth, who wanted to reach the sun, fell into a sink and lay there in the dirty water for days and weeks, till he had swelled to a great size.“I am getting beautifully fat,” said the pea; “I expect I shall burst soon; no pea could do more than that, I think. I am the most remarkable of all the five that were in the shell.” And the sink agreed with the pea.But the young girl, with sparkling eyes and the rosy hue of health upon her cheeks, stood at the open garret window and, folding her thin hands over the pea blossom, thanked God for what He had done.
One day a man said to his wife: “My wife, we are getting very poor and I must go into business to earn some money.”“That is a good idea,” replied his wife. “How much capital have you?”“I have twenty-five centavos,” answered the man; “and I am going to buy rice and carry it to the mines, for I have heard that it brings a good price there.”So he took his twenty-five centavos and bought a half-cavan of rice which he carried on his shoulder to the mine. Arriving there he told the people that he had rice for sale, and they asked eagerly how much he wanted for it.“Why, have you forgotten the regular price of rice?” asked the man. “It is twenty-five centavos.”They at once bought the rice, and the man was very glad because he would not have to carry it any longer. He put the money in his belt and asked if they would like to buy any more.“Yes,” said they, “we will buy as many cavans as you will bring.”When the man reached home his wife asked if he had been successful.“Oh, my wife,” he answered, “it is a very good business. I could not take the rice off my shoulder before the people came to buy it.”“Well, that is good,” said the wife; “we shall become very rich.”The next morning the man bought a half-cavan of rice the same as before and carried it to the mine and when they asked how much it would be, he said:“It is the same as before—twenty-five centavos.” He received the money and went home.“How is the business today?” asked his wife.“Oh, it is the same as before,” he said. “I could not take the rice off my shoulder before they came for it.”And so he went on with his business for a year, each day buying a half-cavan of rice and selling it for the price he had paid for it. Then one day his wife said that they would balance accounts, and she spread a mat on the floor and sat down on one side of it, telling her husband to sit on the opposite side. When she asked him for the money he had made during the year, he asked:“What money?”“Why, give me the money you have received,” answered his wife; “and then we can see how much you have made.”“Oh, here it is,” said the man, and he took the twenty-five centavos out of his belt and handed it to her.“Is that all you have received this year?” cried his wife angrily. “Haven’t you said that rice brought a good price at the mines?”“That is all,” he replied.“How much did you pay for the rice?”“Twenty-five centavos.”“How much did you receive for it?”“Twenty-five centavos.”“Oh, my husband,” cried his wife, “how can you make any gain if you sell it for just what you paid for it.”The man leaned his head against the wall and thought. Ever since then he has been called “Mansumandig,” a man who leans back and thinks.Then the wife said, “Give me the twenty-five centavos, and I will try to make some money.” So he handed it to her, and she said, “Now you go to the field where the people are gathering hemp and buy twenty-five centavos worth for me, and I will weave it into cloth.”When Mansumandig returned with the hemp she spread it in the sun, and as soon as it was dry she tied it into a long thread and put it on the loom to weave. Night and day she worked on her cloth, and when it was finished she had eight varas. This she sold for twelve and a half centavos a vara, and with this money she bought more hemp. She continued weaving and selling her cloth, and her work was so good that people were glad to buy from her.At the end of a year she again spread the mat on the floor and took her place on one side of it, while her husband sat on the opposite side. Then she poured the money out of the blanket in which she kept it upon the mat. She held aside her capital, which was twenty-five centavos, and when she counted the remainder she found that she had three hundred pesos. Mansumandig was greatly ashamed when he remembered that he had not made cent, and he leaned his head against the wall and thought After a while the woman pitied him, so she gave him the money and told him to buy carabao.He was able to buy ten carabao and with these he plowed his fields. By raising good crops they were able to live comfortably all the rest of their lives.
Once upon a time a group of jolly, happy crows were playing leaf-ball in the forest. They were having such a good time when Mr. Fox came slipping along. The crows saw him and started to fly away.“Oh do not go away,” called Mr. Fox, “I only came to play ball with you.”“Well, you will have to have a ball to play with,” said the crows, and they jumped upon his head and picked out one of his eyes.They tossed the eye from one crow to another, laughing at poor Mr. Fox, who was jumping around in all directions trying to catch his eye. When they grew tired of playing, they hid the fox’s eye and all of their leaf-balls; flew away, cawing as they went, “We don’t want to play with you, old Fox. You are too mean. Keep away from here.”And poor Mr. Fox was left searching for his hidden eye and grieving himself sick.
Once upon a time there lived an emperor who was a great conqueror, and reigned over more countries than anyone in the world. And whenever he subdued a fresh kingdom, he only granted peace on condition that the king should deliver him one of his sons for ten years’ service.Now on the borders of his kingdom lay a country whose emperor was as brave as his neighbour, and as long as he was young he was the victor in every war. But as years passed away, his head grew weary of making plans of campaign, and his people wanted to stay at home and till their fields, and at last he too felt that he must do homage to the other emperor.One thing, however, held him back from this step which day by day he saw more clearly was the only one possible. His new overlord would demand the service of one of his sons. And the old emperor had no son; only three daughters.Look on which side he would, nothing but ruin seemed to lie before him, and he became so gloomy, that his daughters were frightened, and did everything they could think of to cheer him up, but all to no purpose.At length one day when they were at dinner, the eldest of the three summoned up all her courage and said to her father:‘What secret grief is troubling you? Are your subjects discontented? or have we given you cause for displeasure? To smooth away your wrinkles, we would gladly shed our blood, for our lives are bound up in yours; and this you know.’‘My daughter,’ answered the emperor, ‘what you say is true. Never have you given me one moment’s pain. Yet now you cannot help me. Ah! why is not one of you a boy!’‘I don’t understand,’ she answered in surprise. ‘Tell us what is wrong: and though we are not boys, we are not quite useless!’‘But what can you do, my dear children? Spin, sew, and weave–that is all your learning. Only a warrior can deliver me now, a young giant who is strong to wield the battle-axe: whose sword deals deadly blows.’‘But WHY do you need a son so much at present? Tell us all about it! It will not make matters worse if we know!’‘Listen then, my daughters, and learn the reason of my sorrow. You have heard that as long as I was young no man ever brought an army against me without it costing him dear. But the years have chilled my blood and drunk my strength. And now the deer can roam the forest, my arrows will never pierce his heart; strange soldiers will set fire to my houses and water their horses at my wells, and my arm cannot hinder them. No, my day is past, and the time has come when I too must bow my head under the yoke of my foe! But who is to give him the ten years’ service that is part of the price which the vanquished must pay?’‘_I_ will,’ cried the eldest girl, springing to her feet. But her father only shook his head sadly.‘Never will I bring shame upon you,’ urged the girl. ‘Let me go. Am I not a princess, and the daughter of an emperor?’‘Go then!’ he said.The brave girl’s heart almost stopped beating from joy, as she set about her preparations. She was not still for a single moment, but danced about the house, turning chests and wardrobes upside down. She set aside enough things for a whole year–dresses embroidered with gold and precious stones, and a great store of provisions. And she chose the most spirited horse in the stable, with eyes of flame, and a coat of shining silver.When her father saw her mounted and curvetting about the court, he gave her much wise advice, as to how she was to behave like the young man she appeared to be, and also how to behave as the girl she really was. Then he gave her his blessing, and she touched her horse with the spur.The silver armour of herself and her steed dazzled the eyes of the people as she darted past. She was soon out of sight, and if after a few miles she had not pulled up to allow her escort to join her, the rest of the journey would have been performed alone.But though none of his daughters were aware of the fact, the old emperor was a magician, and had laid his plans accordingly. He managed, unseen, to overtake his daughter, and throw a bridge of copper over a stream which she would have to cross. Then, changing himself into a wolf, he lay down under one of the arches, and waited.He had chosen his time well, and in about half an hour the sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard. His feet were almost on the bridge, when a big grey wolf with grinning teeth appeared before the princess. With a deep growl that froze the blood, he drew himself up, and prepared to spring.The appearance of the wolf was so sudden and so unexpected, that the girl was almost paralysed, and never even dreamt of flight, till the horse leaped violently to one side. Then she turned him round, and urging him to his fullest speed, never drew rein till she saw the gates of the palace rising before her.The old emperor, who had got back long since, came to the door to meet her, and touching her shining armour, he said, ‘Did I not tell you, my child, that flies do not make honey?’The days passed on, and one morning the second princess implored her father to allow her to try the adventure in which her sister had made such a failure. He listened unwillingly, feeling sure it was no use, but she begged so hard that in the end he consented, and having chosen her arms, she rode away.But though, unlike her sister, she was quite prepared for the appearance of the wolf when she reached the copper bridge, she showed no greater courage, and galloped home as fast as her horse could carry her. On the steps of the castle her father was standing, and as still trembling with fright she knelt at his feet, he said gently, ‘Did I not tell you, my child, that every bird is not caught in a net?’The three girls stayed quietly in the palace for a little while, embroidering, spinning, weaving, and tending their birds and flowers, when early one morning, the youngest princess entered the door of the emperor’s private apartments. ‘My father, it is my turn now. Perhaps I shall get the better of that wolf!’‘What, do you think you are braver than your sisters, vain little one? You who have hardly left your long clothes behind you!’ but she did not mind being laughed at, and answered,‘For your sake, father, I would cut the devil himself into small bits, or even become a devil myself. I think I shall succeed, but if I fail, I shall come home without more shame than my sisters.’Still the emperor hesitated, but the girl petted and coaxed him till at last he said,‘Well, well, if you must go, you must. It remains to be seen what I shall get by it, except perhaps a good laugh when I see you come back with your head bent and your eyes on the ground.’‘He laughs best who laughs last,’ said the princess.Happy at having got her way, the princess decided that the first thing to be done was to find some old white-haired boyard, whose advice she could trust, and then to be very careful in choosing her horse. So she went straight to the stables where the most beautiful horses in the empire were feeding in the stalls, but none of them seemed quite what she wanted. Almost in despair she reached the last box of all, which was occupied by her father’s ancient war-horse, old and worn like himself, stretched sadly out on the straw.The girl’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood gazing at him. The horse lifted his head, gave a little neigh, and said softly, ‘You look gentle and pitiful, but I know it is your love for your father which makes you tender to me. Ah, what a warrior he was, and what good times we shared together! But now I too have grown old, and my master has forgotten me, and there is no reason to care whether my coat is dull or shining. Yet, it is not too late, and if I were properly tended, in a week I could vie with any horse in the stables!’‘And how should you be tended?’ asked the girl.‘I must be rubbed down morning and evening with rain water, my barley must be boiled in milk, because of my bad teeth, and my feet must be washed in oil.’‘I should like to try the treatment, as you might help me in carrying out my scheme.’‘Try it then, mistress, and I promise you will never repent.’So in a week’s time the horse woke up one morning with a sudden shiver through all his limbs; and when it had passed away, he found his skin shining like a mirror, his body as fat as a water melon, his movement light as a chamois.Then looking at the princess who had come early to the stable, he said joyfully,‘May success await on the steps of my master’s daughter, for she has given me back my life. Tell me what I can do for you, princess, and I will do it.’‘I want to go to the emperor who is our over-lord, and I have no one to advise me. Which of all the white-headed boyards shall I choose as counsellor?’‘If you have me, you need no one else: I will serve you as I served your father, if you will only listen to what I say.’‘I will listen to everything. Can you start in three days?’‘This moment, if you like,’ said the horse.The preparations of the emperor’s youngest daughter were much fewer and simpler than those of her sisters. They only consisted of some boy’s clothes, a small quantity of linen and food, and a little money in case of necessity. Then she bade farewell to her father, and rode away.A day’s journey from the palace, she reached the copper bridge, but before they came in sight of it, the horse, who was a magician, had warned her of the means her father would take to prove her courage.Still in spite of his warning she trembled all over when a huge wolf, as thin as if he had fasted for a month, with claws like saws, and mouth as wide as an oven, bounded howling towards her. For a moment her heart failed her, but the next, touching the horse lightly with her spur, she drew her sword from its sheath, ready to separate the wolf’s head from its body at a single blow.The beast saw the sword, and shrank back, which was the best thing it could do, as now the girl’s blood was up, and the light of battle in her eyes. Then without looking round, she rode across the bridge.The emperor, proud of this first victory, took a short cut, and waited for her at the end of another day’s journey, close to a river, over which he threw a bridge of silver. And this time he took the shape of a lion.But the horse guessed this new danger and told the princess how to escape it. But it is one thing to receive advice when we feel safe and comfortable, and quite another to be able to carry it out when some awful peril is threatening us. And if the wolf had made the girl quake with terror, it seemed like a lamb beside this dreadful lion.At the sound of his roar the very trees quivered and his claws were so large that every one of them looked like a cutlass.The breath of the princess came and went, and her feet rattled in the stirrups. Suddenly the remembrance flashed across her of the wolf whom she had put to flight, and waving her sword, she rushed so violently on the lion that he had barely time to spring on one side, so as to avoid the blow. Then, like a flash, she crossed this bridge also.Now during her whole life, the princess had been so carefully brought up, that she had never left the gardens of the palace, so that the sight of the hills and valleys and tinkling streams, and the song of the larks and blackbirds, made her almost beside herself with wonder and delight. She longed to get down and bathe her face in the clear pools, and pick the brilliant flowers, but the horse said ‘No,’ and quickened his pace, neither turning to the right or the left.‘Warriors,’ he told her, ‘only rest when they have won the victory. You have still another battle to fight, and it is the hardest of all.’This time it was neither a wolf nor a lion that was waiting for her at the end of the third day’s journey, but a dragon with twelve heads, and a golden bridge behind it.The princess rode up without seeing anything to frighten her, when a sudden puff of smoke and flame from beneath her feet, caused her to look down, and there was the horrible creature twisted and writhing, its twelve heads reared up as if to seize her between them.The bridle fell from her hand: and the sword which she had just grasped slid back into its sheath, but the horse bade her fear nothing, and with a mighty effort she sat upright and spurred straight on the dragon.The fight lasted an hour and the dragon pressed her hard. But in the end, by a well-directed side blow, she cut off one of the heads, and with a roar that seemed to rend the heavens in two, the dragon fell back on the ground, and rose as a man before her.Although the horse had informed the princess the dragon was really her own father, the girl had hardly believed him, and stared in amazement at the transformation. But he flung his arms round her and pressed her to his heart saying, ‘Now I see that you are as brave as the bravest, and as wise as the wisest. You have chosen the right horse, for without his help you would have returned with a bent head and downcast eyes. You have filled me with the hope that you may carry out the task you have undertaken, but be careful to forget none of my counsels, and above all to listen to those of your horse.’When he had done speaking, the princess knelt down to receive his blessing, and they went their different ways.The princess rode on and on, till at last she came to the mountains which hold up the roof of the world. There she met two Genii who had been fighting fiercely for two years, without one having got the least advantage over the other. Seeing what they took to be a young man seeking adventures, one of the combatants called out, ‘Fet-Fruners! deliver me from my enemy, and I will give you the horn that can be heard the distance of a three days’ journey;’ while the other cried, ‘Fet-Fruners! help me to conquer this pagan thief, and you shall have my horse, Sunlight.’Before answering, the princess consulted her own horse as to which offer she should accept, and he advised her to side with the genius who was master of Sunlight, his own younger brother, and still more active than himself.So the girl at once attacked the other genius, and soon clove his skull; then the one who was left victor begged her to come back with him to his house and he would hand her over Sunlight, as he had promised.The mother of the genius was rejoiced to see her son return safe and sound, and prepared her best room for the princess, who, after so much fatigue, needed rest badly. But the girl declared that she must first make her horse comfortable in his stable; but this was really only an excuse, as she wanted to ask his advice on several matters.But the old woman had suspected from the very first that the boy who had come to the rescue of her son was a girl in disguise, and told the genius that she was exactly the wife he needed. The genius scoffed, and inquired what female hand could ever wield a sabre like that; but, in spite of his sneers, his mother persisted, and as a proof of what she said, laid at night on each of their pillows a handful of magic flowers, that fade at the touch of man, but remain eternally fresh in the fingers of a woman.It was very clever of her, but unluckily the horse had warned the princess what to expect, and when the house was silent, she stole very softly to the genius’s room, and exchanged his faded flowers for those she held. Then she crept back to her own bed and fell fast asleep.At break of day, the old woman ran to see her son, and found, as she knew she would, a bunch of dead flowers in his hand. She next passed on to the bedside of the princess, who still lay asleep grasping the withered flowers. But she did not believe any the more that her guest was a man, and so she told her son. So they put their heads together and laid another trap for her.After breakfast the genius gave his arm to his guest, and asked her to come with him into the garden. For some time they walked about looking at the flowers, the genius all the while pressing her to pick any she fancied. But the princess, suspecting a trap, inquired roughly why they were wasting the precious hours in the garden, when, as men, they should be in the stables looking after their horses. Then the genius told his mother that she was quite wrong, and his deliverer was certainly a man. But the old woman was not convinced for all that.She would try once more she said, and her son must lead his visitor into the armoury, where hung every kind of weapon used all over the world–some plain and bare, others ornamented with precious stones–and beg her to make choice of one of them. The princess looked at them closely, and felt the edges and points of their blades, then she hung at her belt an old sword with a curved blade, that would have done credit to an ancient warrior. After this she informed the genius that she would start early next day and take Sunlight with her.And there was nothing for the mother to do but to submit, though she still stuck to her own opinion.The princess mounted Sunlight, and touched him with her spur, when the old horse, who was galloping at her side, suddenly said:‘Up to this time, mistress, you have obeyed my counsels and all has gone well. Listen to me once more, and do what I tell you. I am old, and–now that there is someone to take my place, I will confess it–I am afraid that my strength is not equal to the task that lies before me. Give me leave, therefore, to return home, and do you continue your journey under the care of my brother. Put your faith in him as you put it in me, and you will never repent. Wisdom has come early to Sunlight.’‘Yes, my old comrade, you have served me well; and it is only through your help that up to now I have been victorious. So grieved though I am to say farewell, I will obey you yet once more, and will listen to your brother as I would to yourself. Only, I must have a proof that he loves me as well as you do.’‘How should I not love you?’ answered Sunlight; ‘how should I not be proud to serve a warrior such as you? Trust me, mistress, and you shall never regret the absence of my brother. I know there will be difficulties in our path, but we will face them together.’Then, with tears in her eyes, the princess took leave of her old horse, who galloped back to her father.She had ridden only a few miles further, when she saw a golden curl lying on the road before her. Checking her horse, she asked whether it would be better to take it or let it lie.‘If you take it,’ said Sunlight, ‘you will repent, and if you don’t, you will repent too: so take it.’ On this the girl dismounted, and picking up the curl, wound it round her neck for safety.They passed by hills, they passed by mountains, they passed through valleys, leaving behind them thick forests, and fields covered with flowers; and at length they reached the court of the over-lord.He was sitting on his throne, surrounded by the sons of the other emperors, who served him as pages. These youths came forward to greet their new companion, and wondered why they felt so attracted towards him.However, there was no time for talking and concealing her fright.The princess was led straight up to the throne, and explained, in a low voice, the reason of her coming. The emperor received her kindly, and declared himself fortunate at finding a vassal so brave and so charming, and begged the princess to remain in attendance on his person.She was, however, very careful in her behaviour towards the other pages, whose way of life did not please her. One day, however, she had been amusing herself by making sweetmeats, when two of the young princes looked in to pay her a visit. She offered them some of the food which was already on the table, and they thought it so delicious that they even licked their fingers so as not to lose a morsel. Of course they did not keep the news of their discovery to themselves, but told all their companions that they had just been enjoying the best supper they had had since they were born. And from that moment the princess was left no peace, till she had promised to cook them all a dinner.Now it happened that, on the very day fixed, all the cooks in the palace became intoxicated, and there was no one to make up the fire.When the pages heard of this shocking state of things, they went to their companion and implored her to come to the rescue.The princess was fond of cooking, and was, besides, very good-natured; so she put on an apron and went down to the kitchen without delay. When the dinner was placed before the emperor he found it so nice that he ate much more than was good for him. The next morning, as soon as he woke, he sent for his head cook, and told him to send up the same dishes as before. The cook, seized with fright at this command, which he knew he could not fulfil, fell on his knees, and confessed the truth.The emperor was so astonished that he forgot to scold, and while he was thinking over the matter, some of his pages came in and said that their new companion had been heard to boast that he knew where Iliane was to be found–the celebrated Iliane of the song which begins:‘Golden Hair The fields are green,’and that to their certain knowledge he had a curl of her hair in his possession.When he heard that, the emperor desired the page to be brought before him, and, as soon as the princess obeyed his summons, he said to her abruptly:‘Fet-Fruners, you have hidden from me the fact that you knew the golden-haired Iliane! Why did you do this? for I have treated you more kindly than all my other pages.’Then, after making the princess show him the golden curl which she wore round her neck, he added: ‘Listen to me; unless by some means or other you bring me the owner of this lock, I will have your head cut off in the place where you stand. Now go!’In vain the poor girl tried to explain how the lock of hair came into her possession; the emperor would listen to nothing, and, bowing low, she left his presence and went to consult Sunlight what she was to do.At his first words she brightened up. ‘Do not be afraid, mistress; only last night my brother appeared to me in a dream and told me that a genius had carried off Iliane, whose hair you picked up on the road. But Iliane declares that, before she marries her captor, he must bring her, as a present, the whole stud of mares which belong to her. The genius, half crazy with love, thinks of nothing night and day but how this can be done, and meanwhile she is quite safe in the island swamps of the sea. Go back to the emperor and ask him for twenty ships filled with precious merchandise. The rest you shall know by-and-by.’On hearing this advice, the princess went at once into the emperor’s presence.‘May a long life be yours, O Sovereign all mighty!’ said she. ‘I have come to tell you that I can do as you command if you will give me twenty ships, and load them with the most precious wares in your kingdom.’‘You shall have all that I possess if you will bring me the golden-haired Iliane,’ said the emperor.The ships were soon ready, and the princess entered the largest and finest, with Sunlight at her side. Then the sails were spread and the voyage began.For seven weeks the wind blew them straight towards the west, and early one morning they caught sight of the island swamps of the sea.They cast anchor in a little bay, and the princess made haste to disembark with Sunlight, but, before leaving the ship, she tied to her belt a pair of tiny gold slippers, adorned with precious stones. Then mounting Sunlight, she rode about till she came to several palaces, built on hinges, so that they could always turn towards the sun.The most splendid of these was guarded by three slaves, whose greedy eyes were caught by the glistening gold of the slippers. They hastened up to the owner of these treasures, and inquired who he was. ‘A merchant,’ replied the princess, ‘who had somehow missed his road, and lost himself among the island swamps of the sea.’Not knowing if it was proper to receive him or not, the slaves returned to their mistress and told her all they had seen, but not before she had caught sight of the merchant from the roof of her palace. Luckily her gaoler was away, always trying to catch the stud of mares, so for the moment she was free and alone.The slaves told their tale so well that their mistress insisted on going down to the shore and seeing the beautiful slippers for herself. They were even lovelier than she expected, and when the merchant besought her to come on board, and inspect some that he thought were finer still, her curiosity was too great to refuse, and she went.Once on board ship, she was so busy turning over all the precious things stored there, that she never knew that the sails were spread, and that they were flying along with the wind behind them; and when she did know, she rejoiced in her heart, though she pretended to weep and lament at being carried captive a second time. Thus they arrived at the court of the emperor.They were just about to land, when the mother of the genius stood before them. She had learnt that Iliane had fled from her prison in company with a merchant, and, as her son was absent, had come herself in pursuit. Striding over the blue waters, hopping from wave to wave, one foot reaching to heaven, and the other planted in the foam, she was close at their heels, breathing fire and flame, when they stepped on shore from the ship. One glance told Iliane who the horrible old woman was, and she whispered hastily to her companion. Without saying a word, the princess swung her into Sunlight’s saddle, and leaping up behind her, they were off like a flash.It was not till they drew near the town that the princess stooped and asked Sunlight what they should do. ‘Put your hand into my left ear,’ said he, ‘and take out a sharp stone, which you must throw behind you.’The princess did as she was told, and a huge mountain sprang up behind them. The mother of the genius began to climb up it, and though they galloped quickly, she was quicker still.They heard her coming, faster, faster; and again the princess stooped to ask what was to be done now. ‘Put your hand into my right ear,’ said the horse, ‘and throw the brush you will find there behind you.’ The princess did so, and a great forest sprang up behind them, and, so thick were its leaves, that even a wren could not get through. But the old woman seized hold of the branches and flung herself like a monkey from one to the others, and always she drew nearer–always, always–till their hair was singed by the flames of her mouth.Then, in despair, the princess again bent down and asked if there was nothing more to be done, and Sunlight replied ‘Quick, quick, take off the betrothal ring on the finger of Iliane and throw it behind you.’This time there sprang up a great tower of stone, smooth as ivory, hard as steel, which reached up to heaven itself. And the mother of the genius gave a howl of rage, knowing that she could neither climb it nor get through it. But she was not beaten yet, and gathering herself together, she made a prodigious leap, which landed her on the top of the tower, right in the middle of Iliane’s ring which lay there, and held her tight. Only her claws could be seen grasping the battlements.All that could be done the old witch did; but the fire that poured from her mouth never reached the fugitives, though it laid waste the country a hundred miles round the tower, like the flames of a volcano. Then, with one last effort to free herself, her hands gave way, and, falling down to the bottom of the tower, she was broken in pieces.When the flying princess saw what had happened she rode back to the spot, as Sunlight counselled her, and placed her finger on the top of the tower, which was gradually shrinking into the earth. In an instant the tower had vanished as if it had never been, and in its place was the finger of the princess with a ring round it.The emperor received Iliane with all the respect that was due to her, and fell in love at first sight besides.But this did not seem to please Iliane, whose face was sad as she walked about the palace or gardens, wondering how it was that, while other girls did as they liked, she was always in the power of someone whom she hated.So when the emperor asked her to share his throne Iliane answered:‘Noble Sovereign, I may not think of marriage till my stud of horses has been brought me, with their trappings all complete.’When he heard this, the emperor once more sent for Fet-Fruners, and said:‘Fet-Fruners, fetch me instantly the stud of mares, with their trappings all complete. If not, your head shall pay the forfeit.’‘Mighty Emperor, I kiss your hands! I have but just returned from doing your bidding, and, behold, you send me on another mission, and stake my head on its fulfilment, when your court is full of valiant young men, pining to win their spurs. They say you are a just man; then why not entrust this quest to one of them? Where am I to seek these mares that I am to bring you?’‘How do I know? They may be anywhere in heaven or earth; but, wherever they are, you will have to find them.’The princess bowed and went to consult Sunlight. He listened while she told her tale, and then said:‘Fetch quickly nine buffalo skins; smear them well with tar, and lay them on my back. Do not fear; you will succeed in this also; but, in the end, the emperor’s desires will be his undoing.’The buffalo skins were soon got, and the princess started off with Sunlight. The way was long and difficult, but at length they reached the place where the mares were grazing. Here the genius who had carried off Iliane was wandering about, trying to discover how to capture them, all the while believing that Iliane was safe in the palace where he had left her.As soon as she caught sight of him, the princess went up and told him that Iliane had escaped, and that his mother, in her efforts to recapture her, had died of rage. At this news a blind fury took possession of the genius, and he rushed madly upon the princess, who awaited his onslaught with perfect calmness. As he came on, with his sabre lifted high in the air, Sunlight bounded right over his head, so that the sword fell harmless. And when in her turn the princess prepared to strike, the horse sank upon his knees, so that the blade pierced the genius’s thigh.The fight was so fierce that it seemed as if the earth would give way under them, and for twenty miles round the beasts in the forests fled to their caves for shelter. At last, when her strength was almost gone, the genius lowered his sword for an instant. The princess saw her chance, and, with one swoop of her arm, severed her enemy’s head from his body. Still trembling from the long struggle, she turned away, and went to the meadow where the stud were feeding.By the advice of Sunlight, she took care not to let them see her, and climbed a thick tree, where she could see and hear without being seen herself. Then he neighed, and the mares came galloping up, eager to see the new comer–all but one horse, who did not like strangers, and thought they were very well as they were. As Sunlight stood his ground, well pleased with the attention paid him, this sulky creature suddenly advanced to the charge, and bit so violently that had it not been for the nine buffalo skins Sunlight’s last moment would have come. When the fight was ended, the buffalo skins were in ribbons, and the beaten animal writhing with pain on the grass.Nothing now remained to be done but to drive the whole stud to the emperor’s court. So the princess came down from the tree and mounted Sunlight, while the stud followed meekly after, the wounded horse bringing up the rear. On reaching the palace, she drove them into a yard, and went to inform the emperor of her arrival.The news was told at once to Iliane, who ran down directly and called them to her one by one, each mare by its name. And at the first sight of her the wounded animal shook itself quickly, and in a moment its wounds were healed, and there was not even a mark on its glossy skin.By this time the emperor, on hearing where she was, joined her in the yard, and at her request ordered the mares to be milked, so that both he and she might bathe in the milk and keep young for ever. But they would suffer no one to come near them, and the princess was commanded to perform this service also.At this, the heart of the girl swelled within her. The hardest tasks were always given to her, and long before the two years were up, she would be worn out and useless. But while these thoughts passed through her mind, a fearful rain fell, such as no man remembered before, and rose till the mares were standing up to their knees in water. Then as suddenly it stopped, and, behold! the water was ice, which held the animals firmly in its grasp. And the princess’s heart grew light again, and she sat down gaily to milk them, as if she had done it every morning of her life.The love of the emperor for Iliane waxed greater day by day, but she paid no heed to him, and always had an excuse ready to put off their marriage. At length, when she had come to the end of everything she could think of, she said to him one day: ‘Grant me, Sire, just one request more, and then I will really marry you; for you have waited patiently this long time.’‘My beautiful dove,’ replied the emperor, ‘both I and all I possess are yours, so ask your will, and you shall have it.’‘Get me, then,’ she said, ‘a flask of the holy water that is kept in a little church beyond the river Jordan, and I will be your wife.’Then the emperor ordered Fet-Fruners to ride without delay to the river Jordan, and to bring back, at whatever cost, the holy water for Iliane.‘This, my mistress,’ said Sunlight, when she was saddling him, ‘is the last and most difficult of your tasks. But fear nothing, for the hour of the emperor has struck.’So they started; and the horse, who was not a wizard for nothing, told the princess exactly where she was to look for the holy water.‘It stands,’ he said, ‘on the altar of a little church, and is guarded by a troop of nuns. They never sleep, night or day, but every now and then a hermit comes to visit them, and from him they learn certain things it is needful for them to know. When this happens, only one of the nuns remains on guard at a time, and if we are lucky enough to hit upon this moment, we may get hold of the vase at once; if not, we shall have to wait the arrival of the hermit, however long it may be; for there is no other means of obtaining the holy water.’They came in sight of the church beyond the Jordan, and, to their great joy, beheld the hermit just arriving at the door. They could hear him calling the nuns around him, and saw them settle themselves under a tree, with the hermit in their midst–all but one, who remained on guard, as was the custom.The hermit had a great deal to say, and the day was very hot, so the nun, tired of sitting by herself, lay down right across the threshold, and fell sound asleep.Then Sunlight told the princess what she was to do, and the girl stepped softly over the sleeping nun, and crept like a cat along the dark aisle, feeling the wall with her fingers, lest she should fall over something and ruin it all by a noise. But she reached the altar in safety, and found the vase of holy water standing on it. This she thrust into her dress, and went back with the same care as she came. With a bound she was in the saddle, and seizing the reins bade Sunlight take her home as fast as his legs could carry him.The sound of the flying hoofs aroused the nun, who understood instantly that the precious treasure was stolen, and her shrieks were so loud and piercing that all the rest came flying to see what was the matter. The hermit followed at their heels, but seeing it was impossible to overtake the thief, he fell on his knees and called his most deadly curse down on her head, praying that if the thief was a man, he might become a woman; and if she was a woman, that she might become a man. In either case he thought that the punishment would be severe.But punishments are things about which people do not always agree, and when the princess suddenly felt she was really the man she had pretended to be, she was delighted, and if the hermit had only been within reach she would have thanked him from her heart.By the time she reached the emperor’s court, Fet-Fruners looked a young man all over in the eyes of everyone; and even the mother of the genius would now have had her doubts set at rest. He drew forth the vase from his tunic and held it up to the emperor, saying: ‘Mighty Sovereign, all hail! I have fulfilled this task also, and I hope it is the last you have for me; let another now take his turn.’‘I am content, Fet-Fruners,’ replied the emperor, ‘and when I am dead it is you who will sit upon my throne; for I have yet no son to come after me. But if one is given me, and my dearest wish is accomplished, then you shall be his right hand, and guide him with your counsels.’But though the emperor was satisfied, Iliane was not, and she determined to revenge herself on the emperor for the dangers which he had caused Fet-Fruners to run. And as for the vase of holy water, she thought that, in common politeness, her suitor ought to have fetched it himself, which he could have done without any risk at all.So she ordered the great bath to be filled with the milk of her mares, and begged the emperor to clothe himself in white robes, and enter the bath with her, an invitation he accepted with joy. Then, when both were standing with the milk reaching to their necks, she sent for the horse which had fought Sunlight, and made a secret sign to him. The horse understood what he was to do, and from one nostril he breathed fresh air over Iliane, and from the other, he snorted a burning wind which shrivelled up the emperor where he stood, leaving only a little heap of ashes.His strange death, which no one could explain, made a great sensation throughout the country, and the funeral his people gave him was the most splendid ever known. When it was over, Iliane summoned Fet-Fruners before her, and addressed him thus:‘Fet-Fruners! it is you who brought me and have saved my life, and obeyed my wishes. It is you who gave me back my stud; you who killed the genius, and the old witch his mother; you who brought me the holy water. And you, and none other, shall be my husband.’‘Yes, I will marry you,’ said the young man, with a voice almost as soft as when he was a princess. ‘But know that in OUR house, it will be the cock who sings and not the hen!’
So Perseus started on his journey, going dry-shod over land and sea; and his heart was high and joyful, for the winged sandals bore him each day a seven days’ journey.And he went by Cythnus, and by Ceos, and the pleasant Cyclades to Attica; and past Athens and Thebes, and the Copaic lake, and up the vale of Cephissus, and past the peaks of Œta and Pindus, and over the rich Thessalian plains, till the sunny hills of Greece were behind him, and before him were the wilds of the north. Then he passed the Thracian mountains, and many a barbarous tribe, Pæons and Dardans and Triballi, till he came to the Ister stream, and the dreary Scythian plains. And he walked across the Ister dry-shod, and away through the moors and fens, day and night toward the bleak northwest, turning neither to the right hand nor the left, till he came to the Unshapen Land, and the place which has no name.And seven days he walked through it, on a path which few can tell; for those who have trodden it like least to speak of it, and those who go there again in dreams are glad enough when they awake; till he came to the edge of the everlasting night, where the air was full of feathers, and the soil was hard with ice; and there at last he found the three Grey Sisters, by the shore of the freezing sea, nodding upon a white log of drift-wood, beneath the cold white winter moon; and they chanted a low song together, “Why the old times were better than the new.”There was no living thing around them, not a fly, not a moss upon the rocks. Neither seal nor sea-gull dare come near, lest the ice should clutch them in its claws. The surge broke up in foam, but it fell again in flakes of snow; and it frosted the hair of the three Grey Sisters, and the bones in the ice-cliff above their heads. They passed the eye from one to the other, but for all that they could not see; and they passed the tooth from one to the other, but for all that they could not eat; and they sat in the full glare of the moon, but they were none the warmer for her beams. And Perseus pitied the three Grey Sisters; but they did not pity themselves.So he said, “Oh, venerable mothers, wisdom is the daughter of old age. You therefore should know many things. Tell me, if you can, the path to the Gorgon.”Then one cried, “Who is this who reproaches us with old age?” And another, “This is the voice of one of the children of men.”And he, “I do not reproach, but honour your old age, and I am one of the sons of men and of the heroes. The rulers of Olympus have sent me to you to ask the way to the Gorgon.”Then one—”There are new rulers in Olympus, and all new things are bad.” And another—”We hate your rulers, and the heroes, and all the children of men. We are the kindred of the Titans, and the Giants, and the Gorgons, and the ancient monsters of the deep.” And another—”Who is this rash and insolent man who pushes unbidden into our world?” And the first—”There never was such a world as ours, nor will be; if we let him see it, he will spoil it all.”Then one cried, “Give me the eye, that I may see him;” and another, “Give me the tooth, that I may bite him.” But Perseus, when he saw that they were foolish and proud, and did not love the children of men, left off pitying them, and said to himself, “Hungry men must needs be hasty; if I stay making many words here, I shall be starved.” Then he stepped close to them, and watched till they passed the eye from hand to hand. And as they groped about between themselves, he held out his own hand gently, till one of them put the eye into it, fancying that it was the hand of her sister. Then he sprang back, and laughed, and cried—“Cruel and proud old women, I have your eye; and I will throw it into the sea, unless you tell me the path to the Gorgon, and swear to me that you tell me right.”Then they wept, and chattered, and scolded; but in vain. They were forced to tell the truth, though when they told it, Perseus could hardly make out the road.“You must go,” they said, “foolish boy, to the southward, into the ugly glare of the sun, till you come to Atlas the Giant, who holds the heaven and the earth apart. And you must ask his daughters, the Hesperides, who are young and foolish like yourself. And now give us back our eye; for we have forgotten all the rest.”So Perseus gave them back their eye; but instead of using it, they nodded and fell fast asleep, and were turned into blocks of ice, till the tide came up and washed them all away. And now they float up and down like icebergs forever, weeping whenever they meet the sunshine, and the fruitful summer and the warm south wind, which fill young hearts with joy.But Perseus leaped away to the southward, leaving the snow and the ice behind: past the isle of the Hyperboreans, and the tin isles, and the long Iberian shore; while the sun rose higher day by day upon a bright blue summer sea. And the terns and the sea-gulls swept laughing round his head, and called to him to stop and play, and the dolphins gambolled up as he passed, and offered to carry him on their backs. And all night long the sea-nymphs sang sweetly, and the Tritons blew upon their conchs, as they played round Galatæa their queen, in her car of pearled shells. Day by day the sun rose higher, and leaped more swiftly into the sea at night, and more swiftly out of the sea at dawn; while Perseus skimmed over the billows like a sea-gull, and his feet were never wetted; and leapt on from wave to wave, and his limbs were never weary, till he saw far away a mighty mountain, all rose-red in the setting sun. Its feet were wrapped in forests, and its head in wreaths of cloud; and Perseus knew that it was Atlas, who holds the heavens and the earth apart.He came to the mountain, and leapt on shore, and wandered upward, among pleasant valleys and waterfalls, and tall trees and strange ferns and flowers; but there was no smoke rising from any glen, nor house, nor sign of man.At last he heard sweet voices singing; and he guessed that he was come to the garden of the Nymphs, the daughters of the Evening Star.They sang like nightingales among the thickets, and Perseus stopped to hear their song; but the words which they spoke he could not understand; no, nor no man after him for many a hundred years. So he stepped forward and saw them dancing, hand in hand around the charmed tree, which bent under its golden fruit; and round the tree-foot was coiled the dragon, old Ladon the sleepless snake, who lies there for ever, listening to the song of the maidens, blinking and watching with dry bright eyes.Then Perseus stopped, not because he feared the dragon, but because he was bashful before those fair maids; but when they saw him, they too stopped, and called to him with trembling voices,—“Who are you? Are you Heracles the mighty, who will come to rob our garden, and carry off our golden fruit?” And he answered,“I am not Heracles the mighty, and I want none of your golden fruit. Tell me, fair nymphs, the way which leads to the Gorgon, that I may go on my way and slay her.”“Not yet, not yet, fair boy; come dance with us around the tree in the garden which knows no winter, the home of the south wind and the sun. Come hither and play with us awhile; we have danced alone here for a thousand years, and our hearts are weary with longing for a playfellow. So come, come, come!”“I cannot dance with you, fair maidens; for I must do the errand of the Immortals. So tell me the way to the Gorgon, lest I wander and perish in the waves.”Then they sighed and wept; and answered:—“The Gorgon! she will freeze you into stone.”“It is better to die like a hero than to live like an ox in a stall. The Immortals have lent me weapons, and they will give me wit to use them.”Then they sighed again and answered: “Fair boy, if you are bent on your own ruin, be it so. We know not the way to the Gorgon; but we will ask the giant Atlas, above upon the mountain peak, the brother of our father, the silver Evening Star. He sits aloft and sees across the ocean, and far away into the Unshapen Land.”So they went up the mountain to Atlas their uncle, and Perseus went up with them. And they found the giant kneeling, as he held the heavens and the earth apart.They asked him, and he answered mildly, pointing to the sea-board with his mighty hand: “I can see the Gorgons lying on an island far away, but this youth can never come near them, unless he has the hat of darkness, which whosoever wears cannot be seen.”Then cried Perseus, “Where is that hat, that I may find it?”But the giant smiled. “No living mortal can find that hat, for it lies in the depths of Hades, in the regions of the dead. But my nieces are immortal, and they shall fetch it for you, if you will promise me one thing and keep your faith.”Then Perseus promised; and the giant said: “When you come back with the head of Medusa, you shall show me the beautiful horror; that I may lose my feeling and my breathing, and become a stone forever; for it is weary labor for me to hold the heavens and the earth apart.”Then Perseus promised; and the eldest of the nymphs went down, and into a dark cavern among the cliffs, out of which came smoke and thunder, for it was one of the mouths of Hell.And Perseus and the nymphs sat down seven days, and waited trembling, till the nymph came up again; and her face was pale, and her eyes dazzled with the light, for she had been long in the dreary darkness; but in her hand was the magic hat.Then all the nymphs kissed Perseus, and wept over him a long while; but he was only impatient to be gone. And at last they put the hat upon his head, and he vanished out of their sight.But Perseus went on boldly, past many an ugly sight, far away into the heart of the Unshapen Land, beyond the streams of Ocean, to the isles where no ship cruises, where is neither night nor day, where nothing is in its right place, and nothing has a name; till he heard the rustle of the Gorgons’ wings and saw the glitter of their brazen talons; and then he knew that it was time to halt, lest Medusa should freeze him into stone.He thought awhile with himself, and remembered Athené’s words. He rose aloft into the air, and held the mirror of the shield above his head, and looked up into it that he might see all that was below him.And he saw the three Gorgons sleeping, as huge as elephants. He knew that they could not see him, because the hat of darkness hid him; and yet he trembled as he sank down near them, so terrible were those brazen claws.Two of the Gorgons were foul as swine, and lay sleeping heavily, as swine sleep, with their mighty wings outspread; but Medusa tossed to and fro restlessly, and as she tossed, Perseus pitied her, she looked so fair and sad. Her plumage was like the rainbow, and her face was like the face of a nymph, only her eyebrows were knit, and her lips clenched, with everlasting care and pain; and her long neck gleamed so white in the mirror that Perseus had not the heart to strike, and said: “Ah, that it had been either of her sisters!”But as he looked, from among her tresses the vipers’ heads awoke, and peeped up with their bright dry eyes, and showed their fangs, and hissed; and Medusa, as she tossed, threw back her wings, and showed her brazen claws; and Perseus saw that, for all her beauty, she was as foul and venomous as the rest.Then he came down and stepped to her boldly, and looked steadfastly on his mirror, and struck with Herpé stoutly once; and he did not need to strike again.Then he wrapped the head in the goat-skin, turning away his eyes, and sprang into the air aloft, faster than he ever sprang before.For Medusa’s wings and talons rattled as she sank dead upon the rocks; and her two foul sisters woke, and saw her lying dead.Into the air they sprang yelling, and looked for him who had done the deed. Thrice they swung round and round, like hawks who beat for a partridge; and thrice they snuffed round and round, like hounds who draw upon a deer. At last they struck upon the scent of the blood, and they checked for a moment to make sure; and then on they rushed with a fearful howl, while the wind rattled hoarse in their wings.“On they rushed, sweeping and flapping, like eagles after a hare.” Illustration by M.H. Squire and Ethel Mars, published in The Heroes, or Greek Fairy Tales for My Children by Charles Kingsley (1901), R.H. Russell.On they rushed, sweeping and flapping, like eagles after a hare; and Perseus’s blood ran cold, for all his courage, as he saw them come howling on his track; and he cried: “Bear me well, now, brave sandals, for the hounds of death are at my heels!”And well the brave sandals bore him, aloft through cloud and sunshine, across the shoreless sea; and fast followed the hounds of Death, as the roar of their wings came down the wind. But the roar came down fainter and fainter, and the howl of their voices died away; for the sandals were too swift, even for Gorgons, and by nightfall they were far behind, two black specks in the southern sky, till the sun sank and he saw them no more.Then he came again to Atlas, and the garden of the Nymphs; and when the giant heard him coming, he groaned, and said: “Fulfil thy promise to me.” Then Perseus held up to him the Gorgon’s head, and he had rest from all his toil; for he became a crag of stone, which sleeps forever far above the clouds.Then he thanked the Nymphs, and asked them: “By what road shall I go homeward again, for I wandered far round in coming hither!”And they wept and cried: “Go home no more, but stay and play with us, the lonely maidens, who dwell forever far away from gods and men.”But he refused, and they told him his road, and said: “Take with you this magic fruit, which, if you eat once, you will not hunger for seven days. For you must go eastward and eastward ever, over the doleful Lybian shore, which Poseidon gave to Father Zeus, when he burst open the Bosphorus and the Hellespont, and drowned the fair Lectonian land. And Zeus took that land in exchange, a fair bargain, much bad ground for a little good, and to this day it lies waste and desert with shingle, and rock, and sand.”Then they kissed Perseus, and wept over him, and he leapt down the mountain, and went on, lessening and lessening like a sea-gull, away and out to sea.
Once upon a time there was a king who had three brave and handsome sons. He feared they might be seized with the desire of reigning before his death. Certain rumours were abroad that they were trying to gain adherents to assist them in depriving him of his kingdom. The king was old, but as vigorous in mind as ever, and had no desire to yield them a position he filled so worthily. He thought, therefore, the best way of living in peace was to divert them by promises he could always escape fulfilling.He summoned them to his closet, and after speaking kindly, added: “You will agree with me, my dear children, that my advanced age does not permit me to attend to state affairs so closely as formerly; I fear my subjects may suffer, and wish therefore to give one of you my crown, but it is only fair that in return for such a gift you should seek ways of making my intention of retiring into the country pleasing to me. It seems to me that a clever, pretty, and faithful little dog would be a pleasant companion for me; so without choosing my eldest son rather than my youngest, I declare that whichever of the three brings me the most beautiful dog shall be my heir.” The princes were surprised at their father’s desire for a little dog, but the two youngest thought they could turn it to their advantage, and gladly accepted the commission; the eldest was too timid and too respectful to press his rights. They took leave of the king; he gave them money and jewels, adding that in a year, without fail, they must return, and on the same day, and at the same hour bring him their little dogs.Before their departure they repaired to a castle about a league from the town; there they brought their most intimate friends, and gave a great feast, at which the three brothers swore eternal friendship, that they would conduct the matter in hand without jealousy and annoyance, and that the successful one should share his fortune with the others. At length they set out, deciding that on their return they would meet at the same castle, and go together to the king; they would take no attendants with them, and changed their names in order not to be recognised.Each took a different route. The two eldest had many adventures, but I shall only relate those of the youngest. He was handsome, and of a gay and merry disposition; he had a well-shaped head, great stature, regular features, beautiful teeth, and was very skilful in all exercises befitting a prince. He sang pleasantly, and played charmingly on the lute and the orbo. He could also paint; in short, he was extremely accomplished, and his valour reached almost to rashness.A day scarcely passed that he did not buy dogs–big, little, greyhounds, bull-dogs, boar-hounds, harriers, spaniels, poodles, lap-dogs; as soon as he had a very fine one, he found one still finer, and therefore let the first go and kept the other; for it would have been impossible to take about with him, quite alone, thirty or forty thousand dogs, and he did not wish to have gentlemen-in-waiting, valets or pages in his suite. He was walking on without knowing where he was going, when night, accompanied by thunder and rain, overtook him in a forest where he could no longer see the paths.He took the first road that offered, and after he had walked for a long time, saw a light, and felt sure there was a house near in which he could take shelter till the next day. Guided by the light, he came to the gates of a castle, the most magnificent imaginable. The gate was of gold covered with carbuncles, whose bright and pure brilliancy lighted up all the surroundings. That was the light the prince had seen from afar; the walls were of transparent porcelain painted in many colours, illustrating the history of the fairies from the creation of the world; the famous adventures of Peau d’Ane, of Finette, of Orange Tree, of Gracieuse, of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, of Green Serpent, and a hundred others were not omitted. He was delighted to recognise Prince Lutin, who was a sort of Scotch uncle. The rain anti the bad weather prevented him remaining longer in a place where he was getting wet through, and besides, in those places where the light of the carbuncles did not reach, he could not see at all.He returned to the gold door; he saw a stag’s foot fastened to a diamond chain; he admired its magnificence, and the security in which the inhabitants of the castle must live; for he said: “What is there to keep thieves from cutting the chain and tearing out the carbuncles? they would be rich for ever.”He pulled the stag’s foot and heard a bell ring, and from its sound judged it to be of gold or silver; in an instant the door was opened, he saw a dozen hands in the air, each holding a torch. He was so astonished that he hesitated to enter, when he felt other hands pushing him from behind somewhat violently. He walked on very uneasily and at great risk; he put his hand on his sword hilt. On entering a vestibule incrusted with porphyry and lapis lazuli, he heard two enchanting voices singing these words:–“Within the bounds of this bright placeIs nought to fear and nought to flee,Save the enchantment of a face,If you would live still fancy-free”.He could not imagine that if harm was intended to him later, so kind an invitation should be given now, and feeling himself pushed towards a big coral door that opened as soon as he approached it, he entered a saloon of mother-of-pearl, and then several rooms variously decorated, hut so rich in paintings and precious stones that he was as if enchanted. Thousands and thousands of lights, hanging from the roof of the room, lighted some of the other apartments, which contained just the same lustres, girandoles and shelves full of wax candles; indeed, such was the magnificence that it is difficult to believe it possible.After passing through sixty rooms, the hands that were guiding him stopped; he saw a big and commodious armchair approach the fire-place quite alone. At the same moment the fire was lighted, and the hands, which seemed to him very beautiful, white, small, plump and well undressed him, for, as I already said, he was wet, and they feared he might take cold. He was presented, without seeing any one, with a shirt beautiful enough for a wedding-day, with a dressing-gown of some material frosted with gold, embroidered with small emeralds to form monograms. The bodiless hands pushed to a table where everything necessary for the toilet was set out. Nothing could he more magnificent. The combed his hair with a lightness and skill that were delightful. Then they dressed him, but not in his own clothes; they brought others much richer. He silently wondered at all that was taking place, and sometimes could not quite control a certain impulse of fear.When he was powdered, curled, perfumed, adorned and made more beautiful than Adonis, the hands led him into a hail resplendent with gildings and furniture. Looking round you saw the histories of the most famous cats; Rodillardus hung up by the feet at the Council of Rats, Puss in Boots, Marquis of Carabbas, the cat who wrote, the cat who became a woman, the sorcerers who became cats, their nocturnal revels and all their ceremonies; nothing could be more curious than these pictures.The table was laid for two, with gold knife, fork and spoon for each; the sideboard was magnificent with a number of rock crystal vases and a thousand precious stones. The prince did not know for whom the two covers were intended; he perceived cats taking their places in a little orchestra built on purpose; one held a book in which was written the most extraordinary music imaginable another a roll of paper with which he beat time, and the rest had small guitars. Suddenly each began to mew in a different key, and to strike the strings of their guitars with their sharp claws; it was the strangest music ever heard. The prince would have thought himself in hell, if the palace had not been too wonderful to give probability to such a thought, but he stuffed up his ears and laughed heartily at the different postures and grimaces of the novel musicians.He was thinking over his various adventures since his entrance into the castle, when he saw a little figure no bigger than your arm enter the hall. The little creature was shrouded in a long, black crape veil. Two cats conducted her; they were in mourning, with cloaks and swords at their sides; a numerous procession of cats followed; some carried rat-traps full of rats and others mice in cages.The prince was more astonished than ever; he did not know what to think. The little black figure approached him, and raising her veil, he saw the most beautiful white cat that ever was or ever will be. She looked very young and sad; she began to mew so softly and prettily that it went straight to the heart. She said to the prince: “King’s son, you are welcome; my cat-like majesty is glad to see you.” “Madam Cat,” said the prince, “it is very kind of you to receive rue so cordially, but you do not appear an ordinary animal; your gift of speech and your magnificent castle are strong proofs to the contrary.” “King’s son,” replied White Cat, “I beg you to leave off making me compliments; I am very simple in speech and manner, but I have a kind heart. Come,” she continued, “let supper be served and the musicians cease, because the prince does not understand what they say.” “Are they singing anything, madam?” he replied. “Certainly,” she went on, “we have excellent poets here, and if you stay with us a little while you will be convinced of it.” “It is only necessary to hear you to believe it,” said the prince, politely; “you seem to be a most rare cat.”Supper was brought, the bodiless hands waited at table. First two dishes were put on the tables, one of young pigeons and the other of fat mice. The sight of the one prevented the prince from eating the other, imagining that the same cook had prepared them both. But the little cat, guessing by his expression what was passing in his mind, assured him that his kitchen was separate, and that he might eat what was given him without fear of its being rats or mice.There was no need to repeat it; the prince felt quite sure the beautiful little cat would not deceive him. He was surprised to see that on her paw she wore a miniature. He asked her to show it him, thinking it would be Master Minagrobis. He was astonished to see a young man so handsome that it was scarcely creditable nature could have formed one like him and who resembled him so closely that it would not have been possible to paint his portrait better. She sighed, and becoming more melancholy, remained perfectly silent. The prince saw there was something extraordinary beneath; however, fearing to displease or annoy the cat, he dared not ask. He told her all the news he could think of, and found her well informed about the various interests of princes, and other things that happened in the world.After supper White Cat invited her guest to enter a hail containing a stage on which twelve cats and twelve monkeys danced a ballet. The former were dressed as Moors and the latter as Chinese. Their leaps and capers may easily be imagined, and now and again they exchanged blows with their paws. Thus the evening ended. White Cat bade her guest good-night; the hands which had been his guides all along took charge of him again, and led him to an apartment just opposite the one he had seen. It was less magnificent than elegant. It was carpeted with butterflies’ wings, whose varied colours formed a thousand different flowers. There were also very rare birds’ feathers, never seen perhaps except in this place. The beds were of gauze, fastened by a thousand knots of ribbons. There were large mirrors reaching from the ceiling to the floor, and the chased gold frames represented a thousand little Cupids,The prince went to bed in silence, for he could not carry on a conversation with the hands; he did not sleep well and was awakened by a confused noise. The hands took him out of bed, and dressed him in hunting costume. He looked out into the courtyard, and saw more than five hundred cats, some of whom led hounds in the leash, others sounded the horn; it was a great fête. White Cat was going hunting and wished the prince to join her. The helpful hands gave him a wooden horse, which galloped at full speed, and stepped grandly. He made some difficulty about mounting, saving that he was far from being a knight errant like Don Quixote; but his resistance was of no avail, and he wasput on the wooden horse. It had housings and saddle of gold and diamond embroidery. White Cat was mounted on the handsomest and finest monkey ever seen. She did not wear her long veil, but a dragoon hat, which lent her such a determined expression that all the mice of the neighbourhood were in terror. Never was there a pleasanter hunt; the cats ran quicker than the rabbits and the hares, so that when they caught them White Cat had the quarry made in front of her, and a thousand skilful and delightful tricks were done. The birds, too, were scarcely safe, for the cats climbed the trees, and the wonderful monkey carried White Cat even into the eagles’ nests, so that she might dispose of the eaglets according to her pleasure.The hunt ended, she blew a horn about a finger’s length, but with so loud and clear a Sound that it could easily be heard ten leagues off. When she had blown it two or three times, she was surrounded by all the cats of the Country some were in the air driving chariots, others in boats came by water; never had so many been seen before. They were all dressed differently. White Cat returned to the castle with the pompous procession, and begged the prince to come too. He was most willing, although it seemed to him that so mans’ cats savoured somewhat of uproar and sorcery, and the cat who could speak astonished him more than all the rest.As soon as she reached home she put on her long black veil; she supped with the prince. He was hungry and ate with a good appetite; liqueurs were served him which he drank with great pleasure, and immediately forgot the little dog he was to take the king. He only thought of mewing with the White Cat, that is, to keep her pleasant and faithful company; the days passed in pleasant fetes, fishing, hunting, ballets, feasts, and many other ways in which he amused himself capitally; sometimes the White Cat composed verses and songs of so passionate a character that it seemed she must have a tender heart, and that she could not speak as she did without loving; but her secretary, an elderly cat, wrote so badly that although her works have been preserved, it is impossible to read them.The prince had forgotten even his country. The hands of which I spoke continued to serve him. He sometimes regretted he was not a cat, in order that he might spend his life in that pleasant company. “Alas!” he said to White Cat, “how grieved I shall he to leave you, I love you so dearly! Either become a woman or make me a cat.” She was much amused at his wish, and made mysterious answers of which he understood nothing.A year passes so quickly when you have neither cares nor troubles, and are in good health. White Cat knew when he ought to return, and as he had quite forgotten it, she reminded him. “Do you know,” she said, “that you have only three days in which to find the little dog your father wants, and your brothers have found beauties?” The prince then remembered, and astonished at his carelessness, exclaimed: “By what secret charm have I forgotten the thing more important to me than anything in the world? Unless I procure a dog wonderful enough to win me a kingdom, and a horse speedy enough to travel so long a distance in time, it is all up with my fame and fortune.” He began to feel very anxious and distressed.White Cat to comfort him said: “King’s son, do not vex yourself, I am your friend. You can stay here another day, and although it is five hundred leagues from here to your country, the wooden horse will take you there in less than twelve hours.” “I thank you, beautiful cat,” said the prince; “but it is not enough to return to my father: I must take him a little dog.” “Stay,” said White Cat, “here is an acorn which contains one more beautiful than the dog star.” “Oh!” said the prince, “Madam Cat, you are laughing at me.” “Put the acorn to your ear,” she continued, “you will hear it bark.” He obeyed, and heard the little dog say bow-wow; the prince was overjoyed, because a dog that could get into an acorn must be very tiny. He was so anxious to see it that he wanted to open it, but White Cat told him it might be cold on the journey and it would therefore be better to wait till he was with his father. He thanked her a thousand times, and bade her a tender farewell. “I assure you,” he added “time has passed so quickly with you that I somewhat regret leaving you, although you are queen here, and the cats who form your court are more intelligent and more gallant than ours, I cannot help inviting you to come with me.” The cat’s only reply to this was a deep sigh.They parted; the prince was the first to arrive at the castle where the meeting with his brothers had been arranged to take place. They joined him very soon, and were surprised to see a Wooden horse in the courtyard that leaped better than all those in the riding schools.The prince came to meet them. They embraced each other affectionately and related their adventures; but our prince did not tell his brothers his real ad ventures and showed them a wretched dog which served as turnspit saying he considered it so pretty that it was the one he destined for the king. No matter how they loved one another, the two eldest were secretly glad of the youngest’s foolish choice; being at dinner, one trod on the other’s foot as if to say there was nothing to fear on that score.The next day they went on together in the same coach. The king’s two eldest sons brought little dogs in baskets, so beautiful and delicate that One scarcely dared to touch them; the youngest brought the miserable turnspit, which was so dirty that no one could bear it. When they reached the palace, they were greeted and welcomed by all; they entered the king’s rooms. He did not know in whose favour to decide, for the dogs brought by his two eldest sons were almost equally beautiful, and they were already disputing the succession when the youngest brought them into harmony by drawing out of his pocket the acorn White Cat had given him. He quickly opened it, and they saw a little dog lying on cotton wool. He passed through a ring without touching it. The prince put him on the ground, and he began to dance with castanets as lightly as the most famous Spanish girl. He was of a thousand different colours, his silky hair and ears dragged on the ground. The king was greatly puzzled, for it was impossible to find anything to say against the beauty of the little dog.But he had not the least desire to give away his crown. The tiniest gem of it was dearer to him that all the dogs in the world. He told his children he was pleased with their labours, and they had succeeded so well in the first thing he had asked of them that he wished to prove their skill further before fulfilling his promise; so that he gave them a year to look by sea and land for a piece of linen so fine that it would pass through the eye of a needle used for making Venice point-lace. They were all vastly distressed to be obliged to go on a new quest. The two princes, whose dogs were not so beautiful as that of the youngest, agreed. Each departed his own way without so much affection as the former time, because the turnspit had greatly cooled their love.Our prince mounted his wooden horse again, and without caring to find other help than that he might hope from White Cat’s friendliness, he speedily departed and returned to the castle where he had been so kindly entertained. He found all the doors open, the windows, roofs, towers and walls were lighted by a hundred thousand lamps that produced a marvellous effect. The hands that had waited on him so well came to meet him, took the bridle of the wooden horse and led it to the stable, while the prince entered White Cat’s room.She was lying in a little basket on a very nice white satin mattress. Her toilette was neglected and she looked out of spirits; but when she saw the prince, she leaped and jumped to show him her joy. “Whatever reason I had,” she said, “to hope that you would return, king’s son, I dared not expect too much, and I am usually so unfortunate in the things I wish that this event surprises me.” The grateful prince caressed her; he related the success of his journey, which she knew probably better than he, and that the king wanted a piece of linen fine enough to go through a needle’s eye; that in truth he thought the thing impossible, but he intended to rely on her friendship and help. White Cat, looking serious, said she would think over the matter; fortunately, there were cats in the castle who spun excellently; she would see that what he wanted was prepared, thus he would have no need to go further afield in search of what he could more easily procure in her palace than in any other place in the world.The hands appeared, carrying torches, and the prince and White Cat following them, entered a magnificent gallery that extended along the bank of a river, where a splendid display of fireworks took place. Four cats, who had been duly tried with all the usual formalities, were to be burned. They were accused of eating the roast meat provided for White Cat’s supper, her cheese, her milk, and of having plotted against her person with Martafax and L’Hermite, famous rats of the country, and held as such by La Fontaine, a truthful writer; but all the same it was known that there was a good deal of treachery in the matter, and that most of the witnesses were bribed. However it might have been, the prince obtained their pardon. The fireworks did no one any harm, and there never were more beautiful rockets.A very excellent supper was afterwards served, which pleased the prince more than the fireworks, for he was very hungry, and his wooden horse travelled at the greatest speed possible. The days that followed were spent in the same way as those that preceded, with a thousand different fetes devised by White Cats ingenuity to amuse the prince. He is perhaps the first man who entertained himself so well in the company of cats.It is true that White Cat had a charming, flexible and versatile mind. She was more learned than cats usually are. The prince was sometimes astonished. No,” he said, “what I see so surprising in you is not a natural thing. If you love me, charming puss, tell me by what miracle you think and speak so correctly that you would be received into the most famous academies of learned men?” “Cease to ask questions, king’s son,” she said, “I am not allowed to reply; you can carry your conjectures as far as you please, I shall not oppose them; be contented that I never show my claws to you, and take a tender interest in all that concerns you.”The second year passed as quickly as the first; everything the prince wished for was immediately brought him by the hands; whether it was books, jewels, pictures, antique medals, he had only to say I want such and such a jewel that is in the cabinet of the Mogul or of the King of Persia, such a statue from Corinth or Greece, and he immediately saw before him what he desired, without knowing who brought it or whence it came. That was not without its charms, and it is sometimes a pleasant diversion to become possessed of the most beautiful treasures of the earth.White Cat, who never ceased to watch over the prince’s interests, warned him that the time of his departure was drawing near, that he need not be anxious about the linen he wanted, since she had had made for him a most wonderful piece; she added that she wished this time to give him an equipage worthy of his rank, and without awaiting his reply, she made him look out into the courtyard. He saw an open barouche enamelled with flame gold, with a thousand elegant devices that pleased the intelligence as well as the eye. Twelve snow-white horses yoked together in fours drew it, harnessed in flame, coloured velvet embroidered with diamonds, and decorated with gold plates. The inside of the barouche was equally magnificent and a hundred coaches, with eight horses, filled with nobles of fine appearance, superbly dressed, accompanied the barouche. It was also attended by a thousand body-guards, whose coats were so thickly embroidered that you could not see the material; and what was strangest, White Cat’s portrait appeared everywhere: in the decoration of the barouche on the coats of the guards, or fastened with a ribbon, like an order, round the necks of those who formed the procession“Go,” she said to the prince, “appear at your father’s court in so sumptuous a manner that your magnificence may impress him with awe, so that he will not refuse you the crown you deserve. Here is a walnut; do not crack it until you are before him; it contains the piece of linen you asked of me.” “Good White Cat,” he said, “I confess I am so deeply sensible of your kindness that if you would consent, I would rather spend my life with you than amid all the glory I have reason to expect elsewhere.” “King’s son,” she replied, “I am convinced of your good heart, a very rare commodity among princes; they want to be loved by all without loving anything or any one themselves, but you are the exception that proves the rule. I shall not forget the affection you show for a little white cat, who is good for nothing but to catch mice.” The prince kissed her paw and departed.It would be difficult to understand the speed at which he travelled, if we did not know already that the wooden horse had taken less than two days to do the five hundred leagues to the castle, so that the same power that animated that horse worked in the others, and they were only twenty four hours on the road. They halted nowhere until they reached the king’s palace, where the two eldest brothers had already repaired, so that not seeing the youngest they applauded his forgetfulness and whispered: “This is very fortunate; he is either dead or sick, he will not be our rival in this important business”. They exhibited their pieces of linen, which were indeed so fine that they went through the eye of a big needle, but could not get through that of a small one, and the king, glad of the pretext, showed them the particular needle he meant, and which the magistrates by his orders brought from the treasury of the town, where it had been carefully preserved.There was much grumbling over this. The princes’ friends, and particularly those of the oldest–for his piece of linen was the best–said that it was open chicanery, in which there was great cunning and evasion. The king’s supporters upheld that he was not compelled to keep to the proposed conditions. At length, to make them all agree, a delightful sound of trumpets, drums, and hautboys was heard; it was the arrival of the prince and his fine equipment. The king and his two sons were all vastly astonished at its magnificence.After greeting his father very respectfully and embracing his brothers, he took the walnut out of a box ornamented with rubies, and cracked it, thinking to find in it the famous piece of linen, but instead there was a hazel nut; he cracked that, and was surprised to see a cherry stone. They looked at each other; the king smiled and laughed at his son for being credulous enough to believe a walnut could contain a piece of linen; but why should he not have believed it, since he had already found a little dog contained in an acorn? He cracked the cherry stone, which contained its kernel; then a loud murmur arose in the room, and nothing could be heard but that the youngest prince had been duped. He made no reply to the courtiers’ jests; he opened the kernel and found a grain of wheat, and in the grain of wheat a millet seed. In truth, he began to get distrustful, and murmured between his teeth “Why, cat, White Cat, you have made game of me”. He felt at that moment a cat’s claw on his hand, which scratched him so severely that he bled. He did not know if this was to encourage him or to make him lose heart. However, he opened the millet seed, and the people were no little astonished when he drew from it a piece of linen four hundred ells long, so wonderful that all the birds, beasts, and fishes were painted on it, with trees, fruits, and plants of the earth, the rocks, the curiosities and shells of the sea, the sun, moon, Stars and planets of the heavens; further, there were the portraits of the kings and other sovereigns that had reigned in the world, those of their wives, mistresses, children and subjects, not omitting the least important of them. Each in his condition assumed the character that suited him best, and wore the costume of his country. When the king saw the piece of linen, he became as pale as the prince was red from his prolonged efforts to find it. The needle was brought, the piece of linen passed backwards and forwards through the eye six times. The king and the two eldest princes preserved a dismal silence, although the beauty and rarity of the linen compelled them to say that nothing in the world could be compared to it.The king uttered a deep sigh, and turning to his children, said: “Nothing consoles me more in my old age than your deference to my wishes. I therefore desire to put you to a further proof. Go and travel for a year, and at the end of that time he who brings back the most beautiful girl shall marry her and be crowned king on his wedding day. It is absolutely necessary that my successor should marry. I swear, I promise that I will not again put off the reward.”Our prince strongly felt the injustice. The little dog and the piece of linen deserved ten kingdoms rather than one, but he was too well-bred to oppose his father’s will, and without delay got into the barouche again. The whole pro cession accompanied him, and he returned to his beloved White Cat. She knew the day and hour of his arrival. The road was strewed with flowers, a thousand perfume burners smoked on all sides, and especially in the castle. She was seated on a Persian carpet, under a canopy of cloth of gold, in a gallery whence she could see him coming. He was received by the hands that had always waited on him. All the cats climbed up to the gutters in order to welcome him with a terrible mewing.“Well, king’s son,” she said, “you have again returned without a crown?” Madam,” he replied, “your kindness has certainly given me the best chance of gaining it, but I am convinced that the king would have more trouble in giving it away than I should have pleasure in possessing it” “No matter,” she said, “you must neglect nothing that can make you deserve it. I will help you this time, and since you must take a beautiful girl to your father’s court, I will find you one who will cause you to win the prize. Now let us amuse ourselves; I have ordered a naval combat between my cats and the terrible rats of the country. My cats will doubtless be uncomfortable, for they fear the water, but otherwise they would have had too great an advantage, and things ought before all to be fair.” The prince admired Madam Puss’s prudence; he praised her highly, and accompanied her to a terrace that looked on the sea.The cats’ ships consisted of big pieces of cork, on which they floated comfortably enough. The rats had joined together several egg-shells to form their vessels. The combat was obstinately kept up; the rats threw themselves into the water, and swam far better than the cats, so that twenty times they were conquerors and conquered, but Minagrobis, admiral of the cats’ fleet, reduced the rats to the extremity of despair. He greedily ate up the leader of their fleet, an old experienced rat, who had been thrice round the world in good vessels, where he was neither captain nor sailor, but only a parasite.White Cat did not wish those poor wretches to be entirely destroyed. She knew how to rule her people, and thought that if there should be no more rats or mice in the land, her subjects would live in an idleness very harmful to them. The prince spent that year like the others in hunting, fishing, and games, for White Cat played chess extremely well. Now and again he could not help asking her fresh questions as to the miracle by which she was able to speak. He asked her if she was a fairy, or if she had become a cat by some change of shape. But she always said only what she wanted to say, and replied only what she wished; and she did this by so many phrases that meant nothing at all, that he clearly saw she did not wish to share her secret with him.Nothing passes more swiftly than days spent without trouble or care, and if the cat had not been wise enough to remember the time for returning to the Court, it is certain that the prince would have entirely forgotten it. She told him the evening before that it only rested with him to take to his father one of the most beautiful princesses the world had ever seen; that the time for destroying the fatal work of the fairies had at length arrived, and to do that it was necessary for him to cut off her head and tail, and throw them at once into the fire. “I,” he exclaimed, “White Cat, my love, am I to be cruel enough to kill you? Ah, you doubtless want to prove my heart, but be sure it will never be wanting in the affection and gratitude it owes you.” “No, king’s son,” she Continued, “I do not suspect you of ingratitude, I know your merit; it is neither you nor I who rule our fate in this matter. Do what I wish; we shall both begin to be happy, and you will know on the faith of a rich and honourable cat that I am indeed your friend.”The tears came into the prince’s eyes at the mere thought of cutting off his cat’s pretty little head. He said everything loving and tender he could think of to dissuade her, but she obstinately replied that she wished to die by his hand, and that it was the only way of preventing his brothers from obtaining the crown; in fact, she urged him so ardently that trembling he drew his sword, and with a shaking hand cut off the head and tail of his good friend, the cat. Immediately the most charming change imaginable took place. White Cat’s body grew tall, and suddenly turned into a girl, whose beauty cannot be described; never was there any so perfect. Her eyes enchanted all hearts, and her sweet ness captivated them. Her stature was majestic, and her bearing noble and modest; her mind was versatile, her manners attractive; indeed, she was superior to everything that was most amiable.The prince was so surprised, and so agreeably surprised at the sight, that he thought he must be enchanted. He could not speak, he could only look at her, and his tongue was so tied that he could not express his astonishment; but it was a very different thing when he saw an extraordinary number of lords and ladies enter the room, who, with their cats’ skins thrown over their shoulders, bowed low to their queen, anti testified their joy at seeing her again in her natural state. She received them with marks of kindness that were enough to prove the character of her disposition and after holding her court for a few moments, she gave orders that she should be left alone with the prince, and spoke to him thus“Do not imagine, sir, that I have always been a cat. My father ruled over 5 kingdoms. He loved my mother dearly, and allowed her to do exactly as she liked. Her ruling passion was travel, so that shortly before I was born she set out to visit a certain mountain, of which she had heard the most wonderful accounts. On the way she was told that near the place where she then was, was an ancient fairy castle of very great beauty, so at least report said, for, as no one had ever entered it, it could not be proved a fact; but it was well known that the fairies’ garden contained the best and most delicately fruits ever eaten.“The queen was seized with a violent desire to taste them, and turned her steps in the direction of the castle. She reached the gate of the magnificent building that shone with gold and azure on all sides. But she knocked in vain; none appeared, it seemed that everybody was dead. The difficulties only served to increase her desire, and she sent for ladders so that they might get over the garden wall. They would have succeeded if the walls had not visibly increased in height although no one worked at them; they tied the ladders together, but they gave way under the weight of the climbers, who were either crippled for life or killed outright.“The queen was in despair. She saw big trees loaded with fruits that seemed delicious; she felt she must taste them or die; she ordered sumptuous tents to be pitched before the castle, and she and all her court remained there six weeks. She neither ate nor slept; she did no thing but sigh and talk of the fruit in the inaccessible garden. At length she fell dangerously ill, and no one could cure her, for the in exorable fairies had not as much as appeared since she had established herself near the castle. All her officers were greatly distressed. Only weeping and sighs were heard while the dying queen asked her attendants for fruits, but would only have what was denied her.“One night, when she was somewhat drowsy, she saw when she woke a little ugly decrepit old woman seated in an armchair by her bedside. She was surprised her attendants should have allowed any one she did not know to come so near her. The old dame said ‘We consider your majesty very importunate in wishing so obstinately to eat of our fruits, but since your life is in danger my sisters and I have agreed to give you as many as you can carry away, and as many as you like while you remain here, provided you make us a present’. ‘Ah my dear mother,’ exclaimed the queen, ‘speak; I will give you my realms, my heart, my soul, provided I may have the fruit; no price is too great for it!’ ‘We desire your majesty,’ she said, ‘to give us the daughter shortly to be born to you; at her birth we shall come and fetch her away and bring her up among us. We shall endow her with all the virtues, with beauty and knowledge; in short, she will be our child; we shall make her happy, but remember you will see her no more until she is married. If you like the proposal I will cure you at once and take you to our orchards; although it is night, you will be able to see clearly enough to choose what you please. If you do not like what I have said good evening madam, I shall go home to bed.’ ‘Although the conditions you impose on me are very hard, I accept them rather than die, for it is certain I have not a day to live. Cure me, wise fairy,’ she continued, ‘and do not let me be a moment longer without enjoying the privilege you have just granted me.’“The fairy touched her with a small gold wand, saying: ‘May your majesty be freed from the sufferings that keep you in this bed!’ It seemed to her immediately as though she had put off a very heavy and uncomfortable gown, which had oppressed her. In some places, seemingly where her malady had been most acute, the burden still weighed upon her. She called her ladies-in-waiting, and told them with cheerful looks that she felt extremely well, was going to get up, and that the gates of the fairy palace, so fast bolted and barricaded, would be open for her to eat and carry away as much of the fruit as she pleased.“The ladies thought the queen was delirious, and dreaming of the fruits she longed for; instead therefore of answering her, they began to cry and awoke the physicians to come and see in what a condition she was. The delay exasperated the queen: she asked for her clothes and was refused; she got angry and I came very flushed, They thought it was the effect of the fever. However, the physician felt her pulse, went through the usual formalities and could not deny that she was in perfect health, Her ladies, seeing the fault their zeal had made them commit, tried to mend it by dressing her quickly. They asked her pardon and were forgiven: she hastened to follow the old fairy, who had been waiting for her all the time.“She entered the palace, where nothing was wanting to make it the most beautiful place in the world. This you will easily believe, sir,” said Queen White Cat, “when I tell you it is the very castle in which we are; two other fairies, a little younger than my mother’s guide, received them at the door and welcomed them kindly. She begged them to take her at once into the garden, and show her the trees on which she would find the best fruit. ‘They are all equally good,’ they told her, ‘and if you were not so anxious to pluck them your self, we have merely to bid them come!’ ‘I entreat you, ladies,’ said the queen, ‘give me the pleasure of seeing so extraordinary a thing.’ The oldest put her fingers to her mouth, and whistled three times; then she shouted: ‘Apricots, peaches nectarines cherries, plums, pears, white heart cherries, melons, grapes, apples, oranges, lemons, currants, strawberries, raspberries, come at my biding!’ ‘But,’ said the queen, ‘those you summon, ripen at different seasons.’ “It is not so in our orchard,’ they said. ‘We have all the fruits the earth produces always ripe, always good; they never go bad!’“Directly they all came, rolling, creeping along, pell-mell, without getting bruised or harmed; so that the queen, eager to satisfy her longing, took the first that offered, and rather devoured than ate them.“When she was somewhat satisfied, she asked the fairies to let her go to the trees that she might have the pleasure of choosing the fruit with her eye, before plucking it. ‘We willingly consent,’ said the three fairies, ‘but remember your promise. You can no longer go back from it.’ ‘I am sure,’ she replied, ‘it is very pleasant here, and if I did not love my husband so dearly, I should ask you to let me live here too; so that you need have no fear I shall retract.’ The fairies, extremely pleased, opened all their gardens and enclosures; the queen stayed with them three days and three nights without wishing to go, so delicious was the fruit. She gathered some to take with her, and as it never spoiled she loaded four thousand mules with it. The fairies added to the fruit gold baskets of exquisite workmanship to put it in, and several curiosities of great value. They promised to give me the education of a princess, to make me perfect, choose a husband for me, and to inform my mother of the day of the wedding, to which they hoped she would come.“The king was delighted at the queen’s return; the whole court rejoiced with him. There were balls, masquerades, running at the ring, and banquets, where the queen’s fruits were served as a delicious feast. The king ate them in preference to everything else that was offered him. He did not know the treaty she had made with the fairies, and he often asked her the name of the land from which she had brought such good things. She told him they were to be found on an almost inaccessible mountain; at another time, that they came from the valleys, then from a garden, or a big forest. So many contradictions surprised the king. He questioned those who had accompanied her, but as she had forbidden them to tell the adventure to any one, they dared not speak of it. As the time of my birth drew nearer, the queen, anxious about her promise to the fairies, fell into a terrible melancholy; she sighed every moment and changed colour rapidly. The king grew very uneasy, and urged the queen to tell him what distressed her. With great difficulty she told him what had passed between her and the fairies, and how she had promised her daughter to them. ‘What!’ exclaimed the king, ‘we are to have no children; you know how I long for them, and for the sake of eating two or three apples you were capable of promising your daughter. You cannot have any affection for me.’ He overwhelmed her with a thousand reproaches, which nearly caused my mother to die of grief; but he was not content with that: he shut her up in a tower and surrounded it with guards to prevent her having communication with anybody but the servants who waited on her, and changed those who had been with her at the fairy castle.“The bad feeling between the king and queen threw the court into great consternation Everybody put off his rich clothes in order to don those suitable to the general grief. The king, on his part, seemed inexorable; he never saw his wife, and directly I was born, had me brought to his palace to be fed and cared for, while the queen remained a most unhappy prisoner. The fairies knew everything that was going on; they became angry, they wanted to gain possession of me; they looked Upon me as their property and that it was a theft from them to keep me. Before seeking a revenge in proportion to their anger, they sent an embassy to the king, asking him to set the queen at liberty, and take her into favour again, and to give me to their ambassadors in order to be brought up by them. The ambassadors were so small, and so deformed were ugly dwarfs they had not the gift of Persuading the king to do what they wished. He refused roughly, and if they had not speedily departed worse might have befallen them.“When the fairies learned my father’s course of action, they became very indignant; and after inflicting the most desolating evils on his six kingdoms, they let loose a terrible dragon which poisoned all the places he passed through, devoured men and children, and killed the trees and plants by breathing on them.“The king was in the depths of despair; he consulted all the wise men in the kingdom about what he ought to do to secure his subjects from these over whelming misfortunes. They advised him to seek through all the world for the cleverest physicians and the most excellent remedies, and to promise life to all the condemned criminals who would fight the dragon. The king, pleased with the counsel, followed it, but without result, for the mortality Continued, and every one who went against the dragon was devoured; then he had recourse to a fairy who had protected him from his earliest youth. She was very old, and scarcely ever left her bed; he went to her and reproached her for permitting fate to persecute him thus, and for not coming to his assistance. ‘What do you want me to do?’ she said; ‘you have annoyed my sisters; they are as powerful as I am, and we seldom act against each other. Appease them by giving them your daughter; the little princess belongs to them you have closely imprisoned the queen; what has she done that you should treat so amiable a woman so badly? Fulfil the promise she gave, and I undertake that good shall come of it.’“My father loved me dearly, but seeing no other way of saving his kingdoms, and delivering himself from the fatal dragon, he told his friend that he would trust her, and give roe to the fairies since she declared I should be cherished, a treated as became a princess of my rank; that he would set the queen free, and that she had only to tell him who was to carry me to the fairy castle. ‘You must carry her in her cradle,’ said his fairy friend, ‘to the mountain of flowers; you can even remain near and see what will happen.’ The king told her that in a week he would go with the queen; meanwhile she might inform her sisters of his decision, that they might make what preparations they thought proper.“When he returned to the palace, he released the queen with as much affection and ceremony as he had made her prisoner in anger and rage. She was so dejected and changed that he would hardly have recognised her if his heart had not assured him that it was the same woman he had so deeply loved. He entreated her with tears in his eyes to forget the troubles he had caused her, assuring her that they would be the last she would experience from him, She replied that she had brought them on herself by her imprudence in promising her daughter to the fairies, and if anything could excuse her, it was her present condition. The king then told her he intended to deliver me to their keeping. It was now the queen who objected; it seemed to be fated that I was always to be a subject for discord between my father and mother. She wept and groaned without obtaining her desire, for the king was too well aware of the fatal consequences, and our subjects continued to die as if they had been guilty of the faults of our family. At length she consented, and everything was prepared for the ceremony.“I was put into a mother-of-pearl cradle ornamented with everything pretty that art could imagine. It was hung with wreaths and festoons of flowers made of precious stones, and the different colours catching the sun’s rays became so dazzling that you could not look at them. The magnificence of my clothing surpassed that of the cradle. All the fastenings of my robes were composed of big pearls, and twenty-four princesses of the blood carried me on a sort of light litter; their ornaments were not ordinary, and they were only allowed to wear white, as befitted my innocence. The whole court accompanied me, each in his rank.“While they were ascending the mountain, the sound of a melodious symphony was heard coming nearer, and at length the fairies, thirty in number appeared. They had asked their good friend to accompany them; each was seated in a pearly shell bigger than that in which Venus rose from the sea and the shells were drawn by walruses that moved uneasily on dry land. The fairies were more magnificently escorted than great queens, but they were exceedingly old and ugly. They carried an olive branch to signify to the king that his submission found favour with them, and they covered me with such extraordinary caresses that it seemed they intended to live only to make me happy.“The dragon who had avenged them on my father followed them fastened in diamond chains. They took me in their arms, kissed me, endowed rue with many precious qualities, and then began the fairy dance. It was very merry, and it is incredible how those old ladies leaped and sprang; and the dragon, who had eaten so many people, approached crawling. The three fairies, to whom my mother had promised me, seated themselves on him and placed my cradle in their midst, and striking the dragon with a wand, he unfolded his big, scaly wings, finer than crape, and of a thousand different colours; thus they repaired to the castle. My mother, seeing me in the air at the mercy of the furious dragon, could not help uttering loud cries. The king consoled her with the assurance given him by his good friend that no harm should come to me, and that I should be as well taken care of as if I had remained in the palace. She became calmer, although it was very sad to lose me for so long, and to be her self the cause of such a misfortune, for if she had not desired to eat the fruit in the garden, I should have remained in my father’s kingdoms and should not have suffered all the misfortunes I have still to relate to you.“Learn then, king’s son, that my guardians had purposely built a tower in which were a thousand beautiful apartments for all the seasons of the ‘ear, magnificent furniture, interesting books, but no door, and you had to get in by the windows, which were extremely high up. On the tower was a beautiful garden adorned with flowers, fountains and arbours which procured shade even in the hottest season. Here the fairies brought me up with a care that surpassed everything they had promised the queen. My clothes were always in the fashion, and so splendid that if any one had seen me they would have thought it was my wedding-day. They taught me everything that belonged to my age and rank. I did not give them much trouble, for there was scarcely anything I did not understand with the greatest ease; they liked my gentleness, and as I had never seen any one except them I might have lived contented with them for the rest of my life.“They always visited me, mounted on the furious dragon I have already mentioned; they never spoke of the king or queen; they called me their daughter, and I thought I was. No one lived with me in the tower except a parrot and a little dog they had given me for my amusement, for the animals were endowed with reason, and spoke perfectly.“One of the sides of the castle was built on a deep road, so full of ruts and trees that it was almost impassable, so that since I had lived in the tower I had never seen any one there. But one day when I was at the window chatting with the parrot and dog I heard a noise. I looked all round and saw a Young knight who had stopped to listen to our conversation; I had never seen any one like him, except in pictures. I was not sorry that an unexpected meeting should afford me such an opportunity, and having no idea of the danger that is attached to the satisfaction of contemplating a pleasant thing, I came forward to look at him, and the longer I looked, the more pleasure I felt. He made me a low bow, and fixed his eyes on me, and seemed greatly troubled to know how he might speak to me; for my window was very high, and he feared to be overheard well knowing that I was in the fairy castle.Night suddenly came on, or to speak more correctly, it came Without our perceiving it. He sounded his horn two or three times very prettily and then departed; it was so dark that I could not see which way he went. I was in a dream and no longer took the same pleasure as before in chatting with my parrot and dog. They told roe the prettiest things imaginable, for fairy animals are intelligent, but I was pre-occupied and knew not how to dissemble. Parrot noticed it; he was cunning and did not betray what was passing in his mind.“I did not fail to rise with the dawn. I ran to my window and was agree ably surprised to see the young knight at the foot of the town. He was magnificently dressed. I flattered myself that it was somewhat on my account, and I was not mistaken. He talked to me through a kind of speaking trumpet, and by its aid told me that, having been hitherto insensible to all the beauties he had seen, he was suddenly so impressed with me, that unless he saw me every day of his life he should die. I was charmed with the compliment, and much distressed at not daring to reply to it, for it would have been necessary to shout with all my might, and so risk being better heard by the fairies than by him. I threw him some flowers I had in my hands he received them as a marked favour, kissed them several times and thanked me. He then asked me if I should like him to come every day at the same time to my windows, and, if so, I was to throw him something. I took a turquoise ring from my finger and hastily threw it him, signing him to go away quickly because I heard the Fairy Violent mounting her dragon to bring me my breakfast.“The first words she said on entering the room were: ‘I smell the voice of a man here; search for him, dragons. Imagine my feelings. I was paralysed with fear lest he should go out by the other window and follow the knight in whom I was already greatly interested. ‘My dear mamma’ (for it was thus the old fairy liked me to call her), ‘you are joking when you say you smell a man’s voice; has a voice any smell? and even if it has, who is the mortal daring enough to ascend this tower?”What you say is true, my daughter,’ she replied; ‘I am delighted you argue so nicely, and I suppose it must be the hatred I have for men which sometimes makes me think they are not far from me.’ She gave me my breakfast and my distaff. ‘When you have finished eating, spin,’ she said, ‘for you are very idle and my sisters will be angry.’ I had been so taken up with my unknown knight that I had found it impossible to spin.“As soon as she was gone, I saucily threw the distaff on the ground, and ascended the terrace to see farther over the country. I had an excellent spy glass; nothing impeded my view I looked on all sides, and discovered my knight on the top of a mountain. He was resting under a rich pavilion of some gold material, and was surrounded by a large court. I supposed he must be the son of some king who was a neighbour of the fairies’ palace. As I feared if he returned to the tower he would be discovered by the terrible dragon, I told my parrot to fly to the mountain, seek out the man who had spoken to me, and beg him on my part not to return, because I dreaded my guardians’ vigilance, and that they might do him some mischief.“Parrot acquitted himself of the mission like a parrot of intelligence. It surprised everybody to see him come swiftly and perch on the prince’s shoulder and whisper in his ear. The prince felt both pleasure and pain at the message; my anxiety for his welfare flattered him, but the difficulty of seeing and speaking to me overwhelmed him, without, however, turning him from his purpose of pleasing me. He asked Parrot a hundred questions, and Parrot in his turn asked him a hundred, for he was curious by nature. The king entrusted him with a ring for me instead of my turquoise; it was formed of the same stones, but was much more beautiful than mine; it was cut in the shape of a heart, and ornamented with diamonds. ‘It is only right,’ he added, ‘that I should treat you as an ambassador; here is my portrait, only show it to your charming mistress.’ He fastened the portrait under his wing and brought the ring in his beak.“I awaited my little messenger’s return with an impatience I had never before felt. He told me my knight was a great king; that he had received him most kindly, and that I might rest assured he only wished to live for mc; that in spite of the danger he ran in coming to my tower, he was determined to risk everything rather than give up the pleasure of seeing me. That news worried me greatly, and I began to weep. Parrot and Bow-wow consoled me as well as they could, for they loved me dearly; then Parrot gave me the prince’s ring and showed me the portrait. I confess I was extremely glad to be able to examine closely the man I had only seen in the distance. He seemed even more charming than I had imagined; a thousand thoughts, some pleasant, others sad, came into my mind, and gave me an extraordinary look of anxiety. The fairies perceived it, and said to each other that doubtless I was feeling bored, and they must, therefore, think about finding me a husband of fairy race. They spoke of several, and fixed on the little King Migonnet, whose kingdom was five hundred thousand leagues from their palace, but that was of no consequence. Parrot overheard this fine advice, and told me of it. ‘Ah!’he said, ‘I pity you, my dear mistress, if you become Migonnet’s queen; his appearance is enough to frighten an one. I regret to say it, but truly the king who loves you would not have him for a footman.’ ‘Have you seen him, Parrot?’ I asked. ‘I should think so,’ continued he; I have been on a branch with him.’ ‘What on a branch? ‘I replied. ‘Yes,’ he said; ‘he has the claws of an eagle.’“Such a tale distressed me strangely, I looked at the charming portrait of the king; I thought he could only have given it to Parrot so that I might have an opportunity of seeing him, and when I compared him with Migonnet I could hope for nothing more in life, and determined to die rather than marry him.“I did not sleep the whole night through. Parrot and Bow-wow talked to me. I slept a little towards morning; and as my dog had a keen scent he smelt that the king was at the bottom of the tower. He woke Parrot. ‘I bet,’ he said, ‘the king is down below.’ Parrot replied: ‘Be quiet, chatterbox; because your eyes are always open and your ear on the alert, you object to others resting’. ‘But let us bet,’ said Bow-wow again; ‘I know he is there.’ Parrot replied: ‘And I know very well he is not; did I not carry a message from my mistress forbidding him to come?’ ‘Truly, you’re imposing nicely on me with your prohibitions,’ exclaimed the dog. ‘A passionate man only consults his heart ‘; and thereupon he began to pull his wings about so roughly that Parrot grew angry. Their cries awoke me; they told me the cause of the dispute; I ran, or rather flew, to the window. I saw the king, who stretched out his arms, and told me, by means of his trumpet, that he could not live with out me, and implored me to find means to get out of the tower, or for him to enter it; he called all the gods and the elements to witness that he would marry me and make me one of the greatest queens in the world.“I told Parrot to go and tell him that what he hoped seemed to me almost impossible; but that relying on the promise he had made me and on his oaths, I would attempt to do what he wished. But I implored him not to come every day, because he might be seen, and the fairies would give no quarter.“He went away greatly rejoiced at the hope I held out; but when I thought over what I had just promised, I was in the greatest possible embarrassment. How to get out of a tower that had no doors, the only assistance being Parrot and Bow-wow! to be so young, inexperienced and timid! I therefore determined not to attempt a thing in which I could never succeed, and sent parrot to tell the king so. He almost killed himself then and there; but at length he ordered him to persuade me either to come and see him die, or to console him. ‘Sire,’ exclaimed the feathered ambassador, ‘my mistress has the will but lacks the power.’“When he related to me all that had taken place I was more distressed than ever. Fairy Violent came and found my eyes red and swollen; she declared I had been crying, and that if I did not tell her the reason she would burn me, for her threats were always terrible. I replied, trembling, that I was tired of spinning, and that I wanted some small nets to catch the little birds that pecked the fruit in my garden. ‘What you desire,’ she said, ‘need cost you no more tears. I will bring you as much twine as you like ‘; and in fact I had it the same evening; but she advised me to think less of working than of making myself beautiful, because King Migonnet was expected shortly. I shuddered at the terrible news and said nothing.“When she was gone, I began to make two or three pieces of netting; but what I really worked at was a rope ladder, and, although I had never seen one, it was very well made. The fairy did not provide me with as much twine as I wanted, and continually said: ‘But, my daughter, your work is like Penelope’s, it never advances, and you are never tired of asking me for more material’. ‘Oh! my dear mamma,’ I said, ‘it is all very well to talk, but don’t you see that I am not very skilful, and burn it all? Are you afraid I shall ruin you in twine?’ My look of simplicity rejoiced her, although she was of a very disagreeable and cruel disposition.“I sent Parrot to tell the king to come one evening under the windows of the tower, that he would find a ladder there, and would know the rest when he arrived. I made it fast; determined to fly with him; but when he saw it lie did not wait for me to come down but eagerly ascended it, and rushed into my room just as I was preparing for my flight.“I was so delighted to see him that I forgot the danger we were in. He repeated his oaths, and implored me not to delay making him my husband. Parrot and Bow-wow were witnesses of our marriage; never was a wedding between people of such high rank concluded with less splendour and fuss, and never was any couple happier than we were.“Day had scarcely dawned when the king left me: I told him the fairies’ terrible plan of marrying me to the little Migonnet I described his appearance, and he was as horrified as I was. After his departure the hours seemed to me as long as years. I ran to the window, I followed him with my eyes in spite of the darkness, but what was my astonishment to see in the air a fiery chariot drawn by winged salamanders who travelled at such speed that the eye could scarcely follow them. The chariot was accompanied by several guards mounted on ostriches. I had not leisure enough to examine the creature which thus traversed the air; but I imagined it must be a fairy or a sorcerer.“Soon after Fairy Violent entered my room. ‘I bring you good news,’ she said; ‘your lover has been here for some hours; prepare to receive him; here are clothes and jewels.’ ‘Who told you,’ I exclaimed, ‘that I wanted to be married? it is not at all my desire; send King Migonnet away. I shall not put on a pin more, whether he thinks me beautiful or ugly; I am not for him.’ ‘Oh! indeed,’ said the fairy, ‘what a little rebel! what a little idiot! I do not permit such conduct, and I will make you…’ ‘What will you do to me?’ I asked, quite red with the names she had called me. ‘Could any one be worse treated than I was, in a tower with a parrot and a dog, seeing every day the hideous and terrible dragon?’ ‘Oh! you ungrateful little thing,’ said the fairy, ‘did you deserve so much care and trouble? I have often told my sisters we should have a poor reward.’ She sought them and told them our dispute; they were all greatly surprised.“Parrot and Bow-wow remonstrated with me, and said if I persisted in rebelling, they foresaw that bitter misfortunes would happen to me. I was so proud of possessing the heart of a great king that I despised the fairies, and the advice of my poor little companions. I did not dress myself, and did my hair all crooked so that Migonnet might find me unpleasing. Our interview took place on the terrace. He came there in his fiery chariot. Never since there were dwarfs had one so small been seen. He walked on his eagle’s feet and on his knees all at the same time, because he had no bones in his legs, and he supported himself on diamond crutches. His royal cloak was only half-an-ell long, and a third of it dragged along the ground. His head was as big as a bushel measure, and his nose so big that he carried a dozen birds on it, in whose chirping he delighted. His beard was so tremendous that canaries made their nests in it, and his ear projected an arm’s length beyond his head, but it was scarcely noticed because of a high, pointed crown he wore to make himself appear taller. The flame of his chariot roasted the fruits, and dried up the flowers and fountains of my garden. He came to me, arms open to embrace me; I held myself so upright that his chief squire had to lift him up, but directly he was near me I fled into my room, shut the door and windows, so that Migonnet went back to the fairies very angry with me.“They asked him to forgive my rudeness, and to appease him–for he was to be feared–they determined to bring him into my room at night while I was asleep, to tie my hands and feet, and put me with him into his burning chariot, so that he might take me away with him. The matter once decided, they scarcely scolded me for my rudeness; they only said I must think how to make up for it. Parrot and Bow-wow were surprised at this gentleness. ‘Do you know, my mistress,’ said the dog, ‘I do not augur well from it; the fairies are strange creatures, and very violent,’ I laughed at these fears, and awaited my beloved husband most impatiently; he was too anxious to see me to be late. I let down the rope ladder, fully resolved to return with him; he ascended with light step, and spoke to me so tenderly that I dare not recall to memory what he said.“While we were talking with as much security as if we had been in his palace, suddenly the windows of the room were darkened. The fairies entered on their horrible dragon, Migonnet followed in his fiery chariot, with all his guards and their ostriches. The king, without fear, laid hold of his sword, and only thought of protecting me from the most horrible calamity, for, shall I tell you, sir? The savage creatures set their dragon on him, and it devoured him before my very eyes.“In despair at his misfortune and mine, I threw myself into the horrid monster’s mouth, wishing him to swallow me as he had just swallowed all I loved best in the world. He was very willing, but not so the fairies, who were more cruel than he was. ‘We must reserve her,’ they said, ‘for longer torment; a speedy death is too good for that unworthy girl.’ They touched me and I at once became a white cat. They brought me to this magnificent palace, which belonged to my father. They changed all the lords and ladies into cats; of some they allowed only the hands to be seen, and reduced me to the deplorable condition in which you found me, informing me of my rank, of the death of my father and mother, and that I could only be delivered from my cat-form by a prince who should exactly resemble the husband they had torn from me. You, sir, possess that likeness,” she continued, “the same features, same expression the same tone of voice. I was struck by it directly I saw you. I was informed of all that had happened and will happen; my troubles are at an end.’ “And mine, beautiful queen,” said the prince, throwing himself at her feet, “will they be of long duration?” “I already love von more than my life, sir,” said the queen. “We must go to your father and see what he thinks of me, and if he will consent to what you desire.”She went out, the prince took her hand, and she stepped into a chariot more magnificent than those he had hitherto seen. The rest of the equipment equalled it in such a degree that all the horses’ shoes were of emerald with diamond nails. Probably that is the only time such a thing was seen. I do not relate the pleasant conversation of the queen and the prince; it was unique in its charm and intelligence, and the young prince was as perfect as she was; so that their thoughts were most beautiful.When they were near the castle where the prince was to meet his two eldest brothers, the queen went inside a little crystal rock whose points were all adorned with rubies and gold. It had curtains all round, so that you could not see it, and it was carried by handsome young men magnificently attired. The prince remained in the chariot, and perceived his brothers walking with very beautiful princesses. When they recognised him they drew near to receive him, and asked him if he had brought a mistress with him. He said he had been unfortunate enough during all his travels only to meet very ugly women, and the most beautiful thing he had brought was a little white cat. They began to laugh at his simplicity. “A cat “they said; “are you afraid that our palace will be eaten up by mice.” The prince replied that he was certainly not wise to make his father such a present, and each then took his way to the town.The elder princes and their princesses got into barouches of gold and azure, the horses wore feathers and aigrettes on their heads, and nothing could have been more brilliant than the cavalcade. Our young prince followed, and then the crystal rock that everybody looked at with admiration.The courtiers hastened to tell the king that the three princes had arrived. “Do they bring beautiful women with them?” asked the king. “It is impossible that they should be surpassed,” was their reply. He seemed vexed at the answer. The two princes eagerly entered with their wonderful princesses. The king welcomed them kindly, and did not know to which to award the prize. He looked at the youngest, and said “This time you come alone?” “Your majesty will see in that rock a little white cat,’ replied the prince, “which mews so prettily and is so gentle that she will charm you.” The king smiled, and himself opened the rock, but, as he approached it, the queen by a spring shattered it to pieces, and appeared like the sun which has been for some time hidden by a cloud; her fair hair was flowing over her shoulders, and fell in long curls to her feet; her head was encircled with flowers; her gown was of a light white gauze, lined with pink silk; she rose and made the king a low curtesy, who, in the excess of his admiration, could not help exclaiming: “This is the matchless woman who deserves my crown”.“Sire,” she said, “I am not come to take from you a throne you fill so worthily. I possess, by inheritance, six kingdoms allow me to offer you one and give the same to each of your sons. As a reward, I only ask for you) affection, and this young prince for my husband. We shall have quite enough with three kingdoms.” The king and the court uttered cries of joy and astonishment. The marriage ‘as celebrated at once, and also the marriage of the two princes, so that the court spent many months in amusements and delights Then each went to rule his own kingdom. The beautiful White Cat was immortalised as much by her goodness and generosity as by her rare merit and beauty.
Outside in the forest there was deep snow. The white snow had crusted the branches of the pine trees, and piled itself up them till they bent under its weight. Now and then a snow-laden branch would bend too far, and huge lumps of snow fell crashing to the ground under the trees. Then the branch would swing up, and the snow covered it again with a cold white burden. Sitting in the hut you could hear the crashing again and again out in the forest, as the tired branches flung down their loads of snow. Yes, and now and then there was the howling of wolves far away.{Listen to The Hut in the Forest plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for iOS and Android devices}Little Maroosia heard them, and thought of them out there in the dark as they galloped over the snow. She sat closer to Vanya, her brother, and they were both as near as they could get to the door of the stove, where they could see the red fire burning busily, keeping the whole hut warm. The stove filled a quarter of the hut, but that was because it was a bed as well. There were blankets on it, and in those blankets Vanya and Maroosia rolled up and went to sleep at night, as warm as little baking cakes.The hut was made of pine logs cut from the forest. You could see the marks of the axe. Old Peter was the grandfather of Maroosia and Vanya. He lived alone with them in the hut in the forest, because their father and mother were both dead. Maroosia and Vanya could hardly remember them, and they were very happy with old Peter, who was very kind to them and did all he could to keep them warm and well fed. He let them help him in everything, even in stuffing the windows with moss to keep the cold out when winter began. The moss kept the light out too, but that did not matter. It would be all the jollier in the spring when the sun came pouring in.Besides old Peter and Maroosia and Vanya there were Vladimir and Bayan. Vladimir was a cat, a big black cat, as stately as an emperor, and just now he was lying in Vanya’s arms fast asleep. Bayan was a dog, a tall gray wolf-dog. He could jump over the table with a single bound. When he was in the hut he usually lay underneath the table, because that was the only place where he could lie without being in the way. And, of course at meal times he was in the way even there. Just now he was out with old Peter.“I wonder what story it will be tonight?” said Maroosia.“So do I,” said Vanya. “I wish they’d be quick and come back.”Vladimir stirred suddenly in Vanya’s lap, and a minute later they heard the scrunch of boots in the snow, and the stamping of old Peter’s feet trying to get the snow off his boots. Then the door opened, and Bayan pushed his way in and shook himself, and licked Maroosia and Vanya and startled Vladimir, and lay down under the table and came out again, because he was so pleased to be home. And old Peter came in after him, with his gun on his back and a hare in his hand. He shook himself just like Bayan, and the snow flew off like spray. He hung up his gun, flung the hare into a corner of the hut, and laughed.“You are snug in here, little pigeons,” he said.Vanya and Maroosia had jumped up to welcome him, and when he opened his big sheepskin coat, they tumbled into it together and clung to his belt. Then he closed the big woolly coat over the top of them and they squealed; and he opened it a little way and looked down at them over his beard, and then closed it again for a moment before letting them out. He did this every night, and Bayan always barked when they were shut up inside.Then old Peter took his big coat off and lifted down the samovar from the shelf. The samovar is like a big tea-urn, with a red-hot fire in the middle of it keeping the water boiling. It hums like a bee on the tea-table, and the steam rises in a little jet from a tiny hole in the top. The boiling water comes out of a tap at the bottom. Old Peter threw in the lighted sticks and charcoal, and made a draught to draw the heat, and then set the samovar on the table with the little fire crackling in its inside. Then he cut some big lumps of black bread. Then he took a great saucepan full of soup, that was simmering on the stove, and emptied it into a big wooden bowl. Then he went to the wall where, on three nails, hung three wooden spoons, deep like ladles. There were one big spoon, for old Peter; and two little spoons, one for Vanya and one for Maroosia.And all the time that old Peter was getting supper ready he was answering questions and making jokes—old ones, of course, that he made every day—about how plump the children were, and how fat was better to eat than butter, and what the Man in the Moon said when he fell out, and what the wolf said who caught his own tail and ate himself up before he found out his mistake.And Vanya and Maroosia danced about the hut and chuckled.Then they had supper, all three dipping their wooden spoons in the big bowl together, and eating a tremendous lot of black bread. And, of course, there were scraps for Vladimir and a bone for Bayan.After that they had tea with sugar but no milk, because they were Russians and liked it that way.Then came the stories. Old Peter made another glass of tea for himself, not for the children. His throat was old, he said, and took a lot of keeping wet; and they were young, and would not sleep if they drank tea too near bedtime. Then he threw a log of wood into the stove. Then he lit a short little pipe, full of very strong tobacco, called Mahorka, which has a smell like hot tin. And he puffed, and the smoke got in his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his big hand.All the time he was doing this Vanya and Maroosia were snuggling together close by the stove, thinking what story they would ask for, and listening to the crashing of the snow as it fell from the trees outside. Now that old Peter was at home, the noise made them feel comfortable and warm. Before, perhaps, it made them feel a little frightened.“Well, little pigeons, little hawks, little bear cubs, what is it to be?” said old Peter.“We don’t know,” said Maroosia.“Long hair, short sense, little she-pigeon,” said old Peter. “All this time and not thought of a story? Would you like the tale of the little Snow Girl who was not loved so much as a hen?”“Not tonight, grandfather,” said Vanya.“We’d like that tale when the snow melts,” said Maroosia.“Tonight we’d like a story we’ve never heard before,” said Vanya.“Well, well,” said old Peter, combing his great gray beard with his fingers, and looking out at them with twinkling eyes from under his big bushy eyebrows. “Have I ever told you the story of ‘The Silver Saucer and the Transparent Apple’?”“No, no, never,” cried Vanya and Maroosia at once.Old Peter took a last pull at his pipe, and Vanya and Maroosia wriggled with excitement. Then he drank a sip of tea. Then he began.Note: You can read his first story, The Tale of the Silver Saucer and the Transparent Apple next.
Once upon a time there was a king who had a wife and a daughter. When his wife became ill and knew that she was going to die, she called her husband and said to him, "Order a pair of shoes from the shoemaker, not too big and not too small. Tell him to come and measure my feet. When I die, send a servant from town to town with the shoes and marry the girl whom they fit.
When his wife died, the king sent the servant off with the shoes but he could find neither a woman nor a girl whom the shoes fit. The servant returned to the king and said to him, "We have found no women whom the shoes fit, their feet were either too big or too small."
One day, the king's daughter tried the shoes on to see if they would fit, never dreaming that the king would marry her. She slipped the shoes on and to her surprise they fit perfectly. At that very moment, the king called his daughter to bring him a glass of water. She arrived wearing the shoes, never thinking that her father would marry her, his own daughter. 
When the king saw that she was wearing the shoes, he said to her, "I am going to marry you. Your mother said in her hour of death that I should marry the woman whom the shoes fit." The daughter replied, "Well, if you really want to marry me, first have two big lamps made, about as tall and as wide as I am, and fashion them in such a way that they can be opened and closed with a screw." He immediately gave orders that the lamps be made and three days later they were ready. The girl had the lamps set up in her chamber and hid in one of them. When her father arrived for the wedding, he could not find his daughter anywhere. He never thought of looking in the lamps. He was very upset that his daughter had escaped from him and therefore summoned the town crier, saying to him, "Take these lamps away and sell them. You can keep the money. I don't want them anymore." 
The town crier went off to the next town to sell the lamps. There he saw a prince sitting at a window gazing out. The prince asked how much he wanted for the lamps. "Whatever you wish to give me, my lord." The prince gave him a gold coin, took the lamps and set them up in his chamber. 
This prince, who was engaged to the daughter of a king, had a habit of getting up in the middle of the night to eat. For this reason, various plates of food were always brought to him. That night, when he was sleeping, the maiden snuck out of the lamp and tried all the food. After she had finished eating, she washed her hands, went over to the sleeping prince and stroked him. Then she climbed back into the lamp. The youth awoke, stood up, noticed the soap suds and saw that all the food had been touched. The next morning he asked his servants, "Did you try my food, or was there a cat in my chamber nibbling at it?" "No," they replied, "no cat entered your chamber. Why do you ask?" He ordered them to keep watch so that no cats entered his chamber. The next night, he found to his amazement that his food had been touched again. The third night he went to bed, but only pretended to sleep. The maiden crept out of the lamp, began to eat, and when she was finished, went over to his bed to stroke his hands. At that moment, the prince sat up and declared, "So you're the one who has been trying my food! Although I am already engaged, I shall marry you because you are very beautiful." And he married her, though without a wedding celebration.
A time came when the prince had to go off to war. He said to his wife, "I must go to war now. You stay here in this chamber and don't go out. When I return after a long time, I want to find you here. I will order the servants to bring you food and whatever else you need. But you must hide in the lamp so that no one can see you." And so he departed. 
One day, the youth's future father in law appeared. He entered the groom's chamber and, finding the girl, asked her what she was doing there. Full of anger, he ordered the servants to throw her out of the palace and toss her into a patch of nettles so that she would burn herself and, not be able to stand up anymore, would die. 
An old woman who used to visit this patch to gather nettles saw the maiden and asked what she was doing there. The maiden said to her, "They threw me into this patch of nettles so that I would burn myself because they are jealous of me. Please, oh please take me home with you, old woman. I will do all your housework, for you are very old." "I can't take you home with me for I am too poor," the old woman replied. "That doesn't matter," said the girl, "I am willing to live anywhere you live."
Some time later, the prince returned from the war. He waited for his wife to come out of the lamp but she was no longer there. He loved his wife so much and was so full of longing for her that he fell ill. Despite his illness, he got hungry, so he ordered his servants to call on everyone in the town to bring him pastry. The old woman, too, brought him some pastry which the girl had baked and in which she had hidden a ring he had given her as a wedding present. When the prince ate the pastry, he found the ring and recognized it immediately. He said to the old woman, "I will call upon you tomorrow." "As you wish, my lord," she replied, "but we are poor people." 
When he arrived the next morning, he looked all around at everything until he noticed a kneading trough leaning against the wall. He asked the old woman what was in it. "Cakes, my son, but please do not touch them because they haven't risen yet." "All right, I won't," he said, "just take them out so that I can see them." He moved the kneading trough to one side and found his wife standing there. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you not to leave the lamp?" She told him what had happened and how his father in law had had her tossed into a patch of nettles, how the old woman had found her, taken her home and become like a father and a mother to her, and how she had baked the pastry with the ring in it. Then she asked him to make the old woman rich with gifts, because she had saved her from death. The prince gave the old woman two sacks of silver coins and took his wife home. Then, he called on his would be father in law and said to him, "Because of the wicked things you have done to my wife, I am breaking off my engagement to your daughter and won't marry her anymore." Then he showed everyone the girl who was already his wife.
There once lived a laborer who earned his daily bread by cutting wood. His wife and two children, a boy and girl, helped him with his work. The boy’s name was Valentine, and the girl’s, Marie. They were obedient and pious and the joy and comfort of their poor parents.One winter evening, this good family gathered about the table to eat their small loaf of bread, while the father read aloud from the Bible. Just as they sat down there came a knock on the window, and a sweet voice called : —“O let me in! I am a little child, and I have nothing to eat, and no place to sleep in. I am so cold and hungry! Please, good people, let me in! “Valentine and Marie sprang from the table and ran to open the door, saying: “Come in, poor child, we have but very little ourselves, not much more than thou hast, but what we have we will share with thee.”The stranger Child entered, and going to the fire began to warm his cold hands.The children gave him a portion of their bread, and said : —”Thou must be very tired; come, lie down in our bed, and we will sleep on the bench here before the fire.”Then answered the stranger Child : ” May God in Heaven reward you for your kindness.”They led the little guest to their small room, laid him in their bed, and covered him closely, thinking to themselves : —”Oh! how much we have to be thankful for! We have our nice warm room and comfortable bed, while this Child has nothing but the sky for a roof, and the earth for a couch.”When the parents went to their bed, Valentine and Marie lay down on the bench before the fire, and said one to the other : —” The stranger Child is happy now, because he is so warm! Good-night!”Then they fell asleep.They had not slept many hours, when little Marie awoke, and touching her brother lightly, whispered : —”Valentine, Valentine, wake up! wake up! Listen to the beautiful music at the window.”Valentine rubbed his eyes and listened. He heard the most wonderful singing and the sweet notes of many harps.“Blessed Child, Thee we greet. With sound of harp And singing sweet.“Sleep in peace, Child so bright, We have watched thee All the night.“Blest the home That holdeth Thee, Peace, and love, Its guardians be. “The children listened to the beautiful singing, and it seemed to fill them with unspeakable happiness. Then creeping to the window they looked out.They saw a rosy light in the east, and, before the house in the snow, stood a number of little children holding golden harps and lutes in their hands, and dressed in sparkling, silver robes.Full of wonder at this sight, Valentine and Marie continued to gaze out at the window, when they heard a sound behind them, and turning saw the stranger Child standing near. He was clad in a golden garment, and wore a glistening, golden crown upon his soft hair. Sweetly he spoke to the children : —” I am the Christ Child, who wanders about the world seeking to bring joy and good things to loving children. Because you have lodged me this night I will leave with you my blessing.”As the Christ Child spoke He stepped from the door, and breaking off a bough from a fir tree that grew near, planted it in the ground, saying: —“This bough shall grow into a tree, and every year it shall bear Christmas fruit for you.”Having said this He vanished from their sight, together with the silver-clad, singing children — the angels.And, as Valentine and Marie looked on in wonder, the fir bough grew, and grew, and grew, into a stately Christmas Tree laden with golden apples, silver nuts, and lovely toys. And after that, every year at Christmas time, the Tree bore the same wonderful fruit.And you, dear boys and girls, when you gather around your richly decorated trees, think of the two poor children who shared their bread with a stranger child, and be thankful.
It happened one day that Brynhild, Gunnar’s wife, now a Queen, was with Sigurd’s wife, bathing in a river. Not often they were together. Brynhild was the haughtiest of women, and often she treated Gudrun with disdain. Now as they were bathing together, Gudrun, shaking out her hair, cast some drops upon Brynhild. Brynhild went from Gudrun. And Sigurd’s wife, not knowing that Brynhild had anger against her, went after her up the stream.“Why dost thou go so far up the river, Brynhild?” Gudrun asked.“So that thou mayst not shake thy hair over me,” answered Brynhild.Gudrun stood still while Brynhild went up the river like a creature who was made to be alone. “Why dost thou speak so to me, sister?” Gudrun cried.She remembered that from the first Brynhild had been haughty with her, often speaking to her with harshness and bitterness. She did not know what cause Brynhild had for this.It was because Brynhild had seen in Sigurd the one who had ridden through the fire for the first time, he who had awakened her by breaking the binding of her breastplate and so drawing out of her flesh the thorn of the Tree of Sleep. She had given him her love when she awakened on the world. But he, as she thought, had forgotten her easily, giving his love to this other maiden. Brynhild, with her Valkyrie’s pride, was left with a mighty anger in her heart.“Why dost thou speak so to me, Brynhild?” Gudrun asked.“It would be ill indeed if drops from thy hair fell on one who is so much above thee, one who is King Gunnar’s wife,” Brynhild answered.“Thou art married to a King, but not to one more valorous than my lord,” Gudrun said.“Gunnar is more valorous; why dost thou compare Sigurd with him?” Brynhild said.“He slew the Dragon Fafnir, and won for himself Fafnir’s hoard,” said Gudrun.“Gunnar rode through the ring of fire. Mayhap thou wilt tell us that Sigurd did the like,” said Brynhild.“Yea,” said Gudrun, now made angry. “It was Sigurd and not Gunnar who rode through the ring of fire. He rode through it in Gunnar’s shape, and he took the ring off thy finger—look, it is now on mine.”And Gudrun held out her hand on which was Andvari’s ring. Then Brynhild knew, all at once, that what Gudrun said was true. It was Sigurd that rode through the ring of fire the second as well as the first time. It was he who had struggled with her, taking the ring off her hand and claiming her for a bride, not for himself but for another, and out of disdain.Falsely had she been won. And she, one of Odin’s Valkyries, had been wed to one who was not the bravest hero in the world, and she to whom untruth might not come had been deceived. She was silent now, and all the pride that was in her turned to hatred of Sigurd.She went to Gunnar, her husband, and she told him that she was so deeply shamed that she could never be glad in his Hall again; that never would he see her drinking wine, nor embroidering with golden threads, and never would he hear her speaking words of kindness. And when she said this to him she rent the web she was weaving, and she wept aloud so that all in the hall heard her, and all marveled to hear the proud Queen cry.Then Sigurd came to her, and he offered in atonement the whole hoard of Fafnir. And he told her how forgetfulness of her had come upon him, and he begged her to forgive him for winning her in falseness. But she answered him: “Too late thou hast come to me, Sigurd. Now I have only a great anger in my heart.”When Gunnar came she told him she would forgive him, and love him as she had not loved him before, if he would slay Sigurd. But Gunnar would not slay him, although Brynhild’s passion moved him greatly, since Sigurd was a sworn brother of his.Then she went to Högni and asked him to slay Sigurd, telling him that the whole of Fafnir’s hoard would belong to the Nibelungs if Sigurd were slain. But Högni would not slay him, since Sigurd and he were sworn brothers.There was one who had not sworn brotherhood with Sigurd. He was Guttorm, Gunnar’s and Högni’s half-brother. Brynhild went to Guttorm. He would not slay Sigurd, but Brynhild found that he was infirm of will and unsteady of thought. With Guttorm, then, she would work for the slaying of Sigurd. Her mind was fixed that he and she would no longer be in the world of men.She made a dish of madness for Guttorm—serpent’s venom and wolf’s flesh mixed—and when he had eaten it Guttorm was crazed. Then did he listen to Brynhild’s words. And she commanded him to go into the chamber where Sigurd slept and stab him through the body with a sword.This Guttorm did. But Sigurd, before he gasped out his life, took Gram, his great sword, and flung it at Guttorm and cut him in twain.And Brynhild, knowing what deed was done, went without and came to where Grani, Sigurd’s proud horse, was standing. She stayed there with her arms across Grani’s neck, the Valkyrie leaning across the horse that was born of Odin’s horse. And Grani stood listening for some sound. He heard the cries of Gudrun over Sigurd, and then his heart burst and he died.They bore Sigurd out of the Hall and Brynhild went beside where they placed him. She took a sword and put it through her own heart. Thus died Brynhild who had been made a mortal woman for her disobedience to the will of Odin, and who was won to be a mortal’s wife by a falseness.They took Sigurd and his horse Grani, and his helmet and his golden war-gear and they left all on a great painted ship. They could not but leave Brynhild beside him, Brynhild with her wondrous hair and her stern and beautiful face. They left the two together and launched the ship on the sea. And when the ship was on the water they fired it, and Brynhild once again lay in the flames.And so Sigurd and Brynhild went together to join Baldur and Nanna in Hela’s habitation.Gunnar and Högni came to dread the evil that was in the hoard. They took the gleaming and glittering mass and they brought it to the river along which, ages before, Hreidmar had his smithy and the Dwarf Andvari his cave. From a rock in the river they cast the gold and jewels into the water and the hoard of Andvari sank for ever beneath the waves. Then the River Maidens had possession again of their treasure. But not for long were they to guard it and to sing over it, for now the season that was called the Fimbul Winter was coming over the earth, and Ragnarök, the Twilight of the Gods, was coming to the Dwellers in Asgard.
Once upon a time, a hunter was sitting alone in his hut before a peat fire. Near him his faithful Dogs lay stretched, resting after a hard day’s run. The Storm howled outside, and the hunter sat listening to the Rain and Wind.Suddenly the latch was lifted, and a Black Cat, shivering with the cold and wet to the skin, sprang across the threshold. She stood trembling in the middle of the floor, while the Dogs rose up, every hair on their bodies bristling.“Great Hunter-of-the-Hills!” cried the Black Cat pitfully. “Spare, oh, spare a poor creature that is so hungry, wet, and cold!”“Come, sit by the fire,” said the hunter, moved with pity. “Nothing shall harm you.”{Note: Listen to Witch-Cat plus audiobooks of fairy tales of cats from around the world on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}He then tried to calm the Dogs, and they lay down again, growling, their hair still bristling. But the Black Cat did not move.“I cannot come near the fire, good hunter,” she said gently, “unless you first bind your two furious Hounds with this hair.”And the hunter saw that she held a long black hair in her mouth. He took it, but instead of binding the Dogs, he threw it across a beam near the chimney.The Black Cat thought that the Dogs were tied, so she approached the fire, and squatted down before it, as if to dry herself.When she had been there only a few minutes, the hunter saw that she was swelling.“Bad luck to you, Puss!” he cried. “You are getting bigger!”“Yes — yes —” purred the Cat, “as my hairs dry they stand out.”But she kept on swelling, and swelling, and swelling.“More bad luck to you, Puss!” cried the hunter. “You are as big as my bucket!”“Yes—yes,” snarled the Cat. “When my skin dries, it expands.” And still she kept on swelling, and swelling, and swelling.“Black death to you, evil beast!” cried the hunter. “You’re as big as the door!”At that the Black Cat reared her back up until it touched the ceiling, and screeched: —“Fasten hair! Fasten!” for she thought the Dogs were tied.And the hair fastened itself so tightly around the beam that it cut it in two. Then up sprang the Dogs, their eyes rolling and red, and leaped toward the Cat.But before they could touch her, she turned into a Witch, and flew yelling up the chimney.
In Norroway, long time ago, there lived a certain lady, and she had three daughters: The oldest of them said to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.”Her mother did so; and the daughter went away to an old witch washerwife and told her purpose. The old wife bade her stay that day, and look out of her back-door, and see what she could see. She saw nothing the first day. The second day she did the same, and saw nothing.On the third day she looked again, and saw a coach-and-six coming along the road. She ran in and told the old wife what she saw. “Well,” quoth the old woman, “yon’s for you.” So they took her into the coach and galloped off.The second daughter next says to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.” Her mother did so; and away she went to the old wife, as her sister had done.On the third day she looked out of the back-door, and saw a coach-and-four coming along the road. “Well,” quoth the old woman, “yon’s for you.” So they took her in, and off they set.The third daughter says to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.”Her mother did so; and away she went to the old witch. She bade her look out of her back-door, and see what she could see She did so; and when she came back, said she saw nothing. The second day she did the same, and saw nothing. The third day she looked again, and on coming back said to the old wife she saw nothing but a great Black Bull coming crooning along the road.“Well,” quoth the old witch, “yon’s for you.” On hearing this, she was next to distracted with grief and terror; but she was lifted up and set on his back, and away they went.Aye they travelled, and on they travelled, till the lady grew faint with hunger. “Eat out of my right ear,” says the Black Bull, “and drink out of my left ear, and set by your leaving.” So she did as he said, and was wonderfully refreshed. And long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of a very big and bonny castle.“Yonder we must be this night,” quoth the Bull; “for my elder brother lives yonder;” and presently they were at the place. They lifted her off his back, and took her in, and sent him away to a park for the night. In the morning, when they brought the Bull home, they took the lady into a fine shining parlour, and gave her a beautiful apple, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal was in the world, and that would bring her out of it. Again she was lifted on the Bull’s back, and after she had ridden far, and farther than I can tell, they came in sight of a far bonnier castle, and far farther away than the last.Says the Bull to her: “Yonder we must be this night, for my second brother lives yonder;” and they were at the place directly. They lifted her down and took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took the lady into a fine and rich room, and gave her the finest pear she had ever seen, bidding her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it.Again she was lifted and set on his back, and away they went. And long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of the far biggest castle and far farthest off, they had yet seen. “We must be yonder tonight,” says the Bull, “for my young brother lives yonder;” and they were there directly.They lifted her down, took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took her into a room, the finest of all, and gave her a plum, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it. Presently they brought home the Bull, set the lady on his back, and away they went.And aye they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and ugsome glen, where they stopped, and the lady lighted down. Says the Bull to her: “Here you must stay till I go and fight the Old One. You must seat yourself on that stone, and move neither hand nor foot till I come back, else I’ll never find you again. And if everything round about you turns blue, I have beaten the Old One; but should all things turn red, he’ll have conquered me.” She set herself down on the stone, and by-and-by all round her turned blue. Overcome with joy, she lifted one of her feet, and crossed it over the other, so glad was she that her companion was victorious. The Bull returned and sought for her, but never could find her.Long she sat, and aye she wept, till she wearied. At last she rose and went away, she didn’t know where. On she wandered, till she came to a great hill of glass, that she tried all she could to climb, but wasn’t able. Round the bottom of the hill she went, sobbing and seeking a passage over, till at last she came to a smith’s house; and the smith promised, if she would serve him seven years, he would make her iron shoon, wherewith she could climb over the glassy hill.At seven years’ end she got her iron shoon, clomb the glassy hill, and chanced to come to the old washerwife’s habitation. There she was told of a gallant young knight that had given in some clothes all over blood to wash, and whoever washed them was to be his wife. The old wife had washed till she was tired, and then she set her daughter at it, and both washed, and they washed, and they washed, in hopes of getting the young knight; but for all they could do they couldn’t bring out a stain. At length they set the stranger damsel to work; and whenever she began, the stains came out pure and clean, and the old wife made the knight believe it was her daughter had washed the clothes. So the knight and the eldest daughter were to be married, and the stranger damsel was distracted at the thought of it, for she was deeply in love with him.So she bethought her of her apple and breaking it, found it filled with gold and precious jewellery, the richest she had ever seen. “All these,” she said to the eldest daughter, “I will give you, on condition that you put off your marriage for one day and allow me to go into his room alone at night.” The lady consented; but meanwhile the old wife had prepared a sleeping drink, and given it to the knight who drank it, and never wakened till next morning. The live-long night the damsel sobbed and sang:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”Next day she knew not what to do for grief.Then she broke the pear, and found it filled with jewellery far richer than the contents of the apple. With these jewels she bargained for permission to be a second night in the young knight’s chamber; but the old wife gave him another sleeping drink, and again he slept till morning. All night she kept sighing and singing as before:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”Still he slept, and she nearly lost hope altogether, But that day, when he was out hunting, somebody asked him what noise and moaning was that they heard all last night in his bedchamber. He said: “I have heard no noise.”But they assured him there was; and he resolved to keep waking that night to try what he could hear. That being the third night and the damsel being between hope and despair, she broke her plum, and it held far the richest jewellery of the three. She bargained as before; and the old wife, as before, took in the sleeping drink to the young knight’s chamber; but he told her he couldn’t drink it that night without sweetening. And when she went away for some honey to sweeten it with, he poured out the drink, and so made the old wife think he had drunk it. They all went to bed again, and the damsel began, as before, singing:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”He heard, and turned to her. And she told him all that had befallen her, and he told her all that had happened to him. And he caused the old washerwife and her daughter to be burnt. And they were married, and he and she are living happy to this day for aught I know.
There was once on a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called all seven to her and said, “Dear children, I have to go into the forest, be on your guard against the wolf; if he come in, he will devour you all skin, hair, and all. The wretch often disguises himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his black feet.”The kids said, “Dear mother, we will take good care of ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety.” Then the old one bleated, and went on her way with an easy mind.{Note: Listen to The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids audiobook plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}It was not long before someone knocked at the house-door and cried, “Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought something back with her for each of you.”But the little kids knew that it was the wolf, by the rough voice.“We will not open the door,” cried they, “thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, but your voice is rough; you are the wolf!”Then the wolf went away to a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this and made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door of the house, and cried, “Open the door, dear children, your mother is here and has brought something back with her for each of you.”But the wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw them and cried, “We will not open the door, our mother has not black feet like you: you are the wolf.”Then the wolf ran to a baker and said, “I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me.” And when the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, “Strew some white meal over my feet for me.”The miller thought to himself, “The wolf wants to deceive someone,” and refused; but the wolf said, “If you will not do it, I will devour you.” Then the miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like that.So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at it and said, “Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back from the forest with her.”The little kids cried, “First show us your paws that we may know if you are our dear little mother.” Then he put his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. But who should come in but the wolf!They were terrified and wanted to hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The youngest in the clock-case was the only one he did not find.When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and began to sleep. Soon afterwards the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what a sight she saw there!The house-door stood wide open. The table, chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one after another by name, but no one answered.At last, when she came to the youngest, a soft voice cried, “Dear mother, I am in the clock-case.” She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept over her poor children.At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and snored so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged body.“Ah, heavens,” said she, “is it possible that my poor children whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?”Then the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, and the goat cut open the monster’s stomach, and hardly had she made one cut, than one little kid thrust its head out, and when she cut farther, all six sprang out one after another, and were all still alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was!Then they embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at his wedding. The mother, however, said, “Now go and look for some big stones, and we will fill the wicked beast’s stomach with them while he is still asleep.”Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he was not aware of anything and never once stirred.When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, and as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, the stones in his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Then cried he,“What rumbles and tumblesAgainst my poor bones?I thought t was six kids,But it’s nothing but big stones.”And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in and there was no help, but he had to drown miserably. When the seven kids saw that, they came running to the spot and cried aloud, “The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!” and danced for joy round about the well with their mother.
Sometimes in spring, when the big river flooded its banks and made lakes of the meadows, and the little rivers flowed deep, old Peter spent a few days netting fish. Also in summer he set night-lines in the little river not far from where it left the forest. And so it happened that one day he sat in the warm sunshine outside his hut, mending his nets and making floats for them; not cork floats like ours, but little rolls of the silver bark of the birch tree.And while he sat there Vanya and Maroosia watched him, and sometimes even helped, holding a piece of the net between them, while old Peter fastened on the little glistening rolls of bark that were to keep it up in the water. And all the time old Peter worked he smoked, and told them stories about fish.First he told them what happened when the first pike was born, and how it is that all the little fish are not eaten by the great pike with his huge greedy mouth and his sharp teeth.On the night of Ivanov’s Day (that is the day of Saint John, which is Midsummer) there was born the pike, a huge fish, with such teeth as never were. And when the pike was born the waters of the river foamed and raged, so that the ships in the river were all but swamped, and the pretty young girls who were playing on the banks ran away as fast as they could, frightened, they were, by the roaring of the waves, and the black wind and the white foam on the water. Terrible was the birth of the sharp-toothed pike.And when the pike was born he did not grow up by months or by days, but by hours. Every day it was two inches longer than the day before. In a month it was two yards long; in two months it was twelve feet long; in three months it was raging up and down the river like a tempest, eating the bream and the perch, and all the small fish that came in its way. There was a bream or a perch swimming lazily in the stream. The pike saw it as it raged by, caught it in its great white mouth, and instantly the bream or the perch was gone, torn to pieces by the pike’s teeth, and swallowed as you would swallow a sunflower seed. And bream and perch are big fish. It was worse for the little ones.What was to be done? The bream and the perch put their heads together in a quiet pool. It was clear enough that the great pike would eat everyone of them. So they called a meeting of all the little fish, and set to thinking what could be done by way of dealing with the great pike, which had such sharp teeth and was making so free with their lives.They all came to the meeting—bream, and perch, and roach, and dace, and gudgeon; yes, and the little ersh with his spiny back.The silly roach said, “Let us kill the pike.”But the gudgeon looked at him with his great eyes, and asked, “Have you got good teeth?”“No,” says the roach, “I haven’t any teeth.”“You’d swallow the pike, I suppose?” says the perch.“My mouth is too small.”“Then do not use it to talk foolishness,” said the gudgeon; and the roach’s fins blushed scarlet, and are red to this day.“I will set my prickles on end,” says the perch, who has a row of sharp prickles in the fin on his back. “The pike won’t find them too comfortable in his throat.”“Yes,” said the bream; “but you will have to go into his throat to put them there, and he’ll swallow you all the same. Besides, we have not all got prickles.”There was a lot more foolishness talked. Even the minnows had something to say, until they were made to be quiet by the dace.Now the little ersh had come to the meeting, with his spiny back, and his big front fins, and his head all shining in blue and gold and green. And when he had heard all they had to say, he began to talk.“Think away,” says he, “and break your heads, and spoil your brains, if ever you had any; but listen for a moment to what I have to say.”And all the fish turned to listen to the ersh, who is the cleverest of all the little fish, because he has a big head and a small body.“Listen,” says the ersh. “It is clear enough that the pike lives in this big river, and that he does not give the little fish a chance, crunches them all with his sharp teeth, and swallows them ten at a time. I quite agree that it would be much better for everybody if he could be killed; but not one of us is strong enough for that. We are not strong enough to kill him; but we can starve him, and save ourselves at the same time. There’s no living in the big river while he is here. Let all us little fish clear out, and go and live in the little rivers that flow into the big. There the waters are shallow, and we can hide among the weeds. No one will touch us there, and we can live and bring up our children in peace, and only be in danger when we go visiting from one little river to another. And as for the great pike, we will leave him alone in the big river to rage hungrily up and down. His teeth will soon grow blunt, for there will be nothing for him to eat.”All the little fish waved their fins and danced in the water when they heard the wisdom of the ersh’s speech. And the ersh and the roach, and the bream and the perch, and the dace and the gudgeon left the big river and swam up the little rivers between the green meadows. And there they began again to live in peace and bring up their little ones, though the cunning fishermen set nets in the little rivers and caught many of them on their way. From that time on there have never been many little fish in the big river.And as for the monstrous pike, he swam up and down the great river, lashing the waters, and driving his nose through the waves, but found no food for his sharp teeth. He had to take to worms, and was caught in the end on a fisherman’s hook. Yes, and the fisherman made a soup of him—the best fish soup that ever was made. He was a friend of mine when I was a boy, and he gave me a taste in my wooden spoon.Then he told them the story of other pike, and particularly of the pike that was king of a river, and made the little fish come together on the top of the water so that the young hunter could cross over with dry feet. And he told them of the pike that hid the lover of the princess by swallowing him and lying at the bottom of a deep pool, and how the princess saw her lover sitting in the pike, when the big fish opened his mouth to snap up a little perch that swam too near his nose. Then he told them of the big trial in the river, when the fishes chose judges, and made a case at law against the ersh, and found him guilty, and how the ersh spat in the faces of the judges and swam merrily away.Finally, he told them the story of the Golden Fish. But that is a long story, and a chapter all by itself, and begins on the next page.
Once upon a time there lived a King who had two sons, and when he died he left them all his treasures; but the younger brother began to squander it all so lavishly that the elder said, ‘Let us divide what there is, and do you take your own share, and do what you please with it.’So the younger took his poition, and spent every farthing of it in no time.When he had literally nothing left, he asked his wife to give him what she had. Then she wept, saying, ‘I have nothing left but one small piece of jewellery; however, take that also if you want it.’So he took the jewel, sold it for four pounds, and taking the money with him, set off to make his fortune in the world.As he went on his way he met a man with a cat‘How much for your cat?’ asked the spendthriftPrince.‘Nothing less than a golden pound/ replied the man.‘A bargain indeed!’ cried the spendthrift, and immediately bought the cat for a golden sovereign.By and by he met a man with a dog, and called out as before, ‘How much for your dog?’ And when the man said not less than a golden pound, the Prince again declared it was a bargain indeed, and bought it cheerfully.Then he met a man carrying a parrot, and called out as before, ‘How much for the parrot?’ And when he heard it was only a golden sovereign he was delighted, saying once more that was a bargain indeed.He had only one pound left. Yet even then, when he met a Jôgi carrying a serpent, he cried out at once, ‘O Jôgi, how much for the snake?’‘Not a farthing less than a golden sovereign,’ quoth the Jôgi.‘And very little, too!’ cried the spendthrift, handing over his last coin.So there he was, possessed of a cat, a dog, a parrot, and a snake, but not a single penny in his pocket. However, he set to work bravely to earn his living; but the hard labour wearied him dreadfully, for being a Prince he was not used to it. Now when his serpent saw this, it pitied its kind master, and said, ‘Prince, if you are not afraid to come to my father’s house, he will perhaps give you something for saving me from the Jôgi.’ The spendthrift Prince was not a bit afraid of anything, so he and the serpent set off together, but when they arrived at the house, the snake bade the Prince wait outside, while it went in alone and prepared the snake-father for a visitor. When the snake-father heard what the serpent had to say, he was much pleased, declaring he would reward the Prince by giving him anything he desired. So the serpent went out to fetch the Prince into the snake-father’s presence, and when doing so, it whispered in his ear, ‘My father will give you anything you desire. Remember only to ask for his little ring as a keepsake.’This rather astonished the Prince, who naturally thought a ring would be of little use to a man who was half starving; however, he did as he was bid, and when the snake-father asked him what he desired, he replied, ‘Thank you; I have everything, and want for nothing.’Then the snake-father asked him once more what he would take as a reward, but again he answered that he wanted nothing, having all that heart could desire.Nevertheless, when the snake-father asked him the third time, he replied, ‘Since you wish me to take something, let it be the ring you wear on your finger, as a keepsake.’Then the snake-father frowned, and looked displeased, saying, ‘Were it not for my promise, I would have turned you into ashes on the spot, for daring to ask for my greatest treasure. But as I have said, it must be. Take the ring, and go!’So the Prince, taking the ring, set off homewards with his servant the serpent, to whom he said regretfully, ‘This old ring is a mistake; I have only made the snake-father angry by asking for it, and much good it will do me! It would have been wiser to say a sack of gold.’‘Not so, my Prince!’ replied the serpent; ‘that ring is a wonderful ring! You have only to make a clean square place on the ground, plaster it over according to the custom of holy places, put the ring in the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and then whatever you wish for will be granted immediately.’Vastly delighted at possessing so great a treasure as this magic ring, the Prince went on his way rejoicing, but by and by, as he trudged along the road, he began to feel hungry, and thought he would put his ring to the test. So, making a holy place, he put the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, ‘O ring, I want some sweetmeats for dinner!’No sooner had he uttered the words, than a dishful of most delicious sweets appeared on the holy place. These he ate, and then set off to a city he saw in the distance.As he entered the gate a proclamation was being made that any one who would build a palace of gold, with golden stairs, in the middle of the sea, in the course of one night, should have half the kingdom, and the King’s daughter in marriage; but if he failed, instant death should be his portion.Hearing this, the spendthrift Prince went at once to the Court and declared his readiness to fulfil the conditions.The King was much surprised at his temerity, and bade him consider well what he was doing, telling him that many princes had tried to perform the task before, and showing him a necklace of their heads, in hopes that the dreadful sight might deter him from his purpose.But the Prince merely replied that he was not afraid, and that he was certain he should succeed.Whereupon the King ordered him to build the palace that very night, and setting a guard over him, bade the sentries be careful the young boaster did not run away. Now when evening came, the Prince lay down calmly to sleep, whereat the guard whispered amongst themselves that he must be a madman to fling away his life so uselessly. Nevertheless, with the first streak of dawn the Prince arose, and making a holy place, laid the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, ‘O ring, I want a palace of gold, with golden stairs, in the midst of the sea!’And lo! there in the sea it stood, all glittering in the sunshine. Seeing this, the guard ran to tell the King, who could scarcely believe his eyes when he and all his Court came to the spot and beheld the golden palace.Nevertheless, as the Prince had fulfilled his promise, the King performed his, and gave his daughter in marriage, and half his kingdom, to the spendthrift.‘I don’t want your kingdom, or your daughter either!’ said the Prince. ‘I will take the palace I have built in the sea as my reward.’So he went to dwell there, but when they sent the Princess to him, he relented, seeing her beauty; and so they were married and lived very happily together.Now, when the Prince went out a-hunting he took his dog with him, but he left the cat and the parrot in the palace, to amuse the Princess; nevertheless, one day, when he returned, he found her very sad and sorrowful, and when he begged her to tell him what was the matter, she said, ‘O dear Prince, I wish to be turned into gold by the power of the magic ring by which you built this glittering golden palace.’So, to please her, he made a holy place, put the ring in the centre, sprinkled it with buttermilk, and cried, ‘O ring, turn my wife into gold!’No sooner had he said the words than his wish was accomplished, and his wife became a golden Princess.Now, when the golden Princess was washing her beautiful golden hair one day, two long glittering hairs came out in the comb. She looked at them, regretting that there were no poor people near to whom she might have given the golden strands; then, determining they should not be lost, she made a cup of green leaves, and curling the hairs inside it, set it afloat upon the sea.As luck would have it, after drifting hither and thither, it reached a distant shore where a washerman was at work. The poor man, seeing the wonderful gold hairs, took them to the King, hoping for a reward; and the King in his turn showed them to his son, who was so much struck by the sight that he lay down on a dirty old bed, to mark his extreme grief and despair, and, refusing to eat or drink anything, swore he must marry the owner of the beautiful golden hair, or die.The King, greatly distressed at his son’s state, cast about how he should find the golden-haired Princess, and after calling his ministers and nobles to help him, came to the conclusion that it would be best to employ a wise woman. So he called the wisest woman in the land to him, and she promised to find the Princess, on condition of the King, in his turn, promising to give her anything she desired as a reward.Then the wise woman caused a golden barge to be made, and in the barge a silken cradle swinging from silken ropes. When all was ready, she set off in the direction whence the leafy cup had come, taking with her four boatmen, whom she trained carefully always to stop rowing when she put up her finger, and go on as long as she kept it down.After a long while they came in sight of the golden palace, which the wise woman guessed at once must belong to the golden Princess; so, putting up her finger, the boatmen ceased rowing, and the wise woman, stepping out of the boat, went swiftly into the palace. There she saw the golden Princess, sitting on a golden throne; and going up to her, she laid her hands upon the Princess’s head, as is the custom when relatives visit each other; afterwards she kissed her and petted her, saying, ‘Dearest niece! do you not know me? I am your aunt.’But the Princess at first drew back, and said she had never seen or heard of such an aunt. Then the wise woman explained how she had left home years before, and made up such a cunning, plausible story that the Princess, who was only too glad to get a companion, really believed what she said, and invited her to stop a few days in the palace.Now, as they sat talking together, the wise woman asked the Princess if she did not find it dull alone in the palace in the midst of the sea, and inquired how they managed to live there without servants, and how the Prince her husband came and went. Then the Princess told her about the wonderful ring the Prince wore day and night, and how by its help they had everything heart could desire.On this, the pretended aunt looked very grave, and suggested the terrible plight in which the Princess would be left should the Prince come to harm while away from her. She spoke so earnestly that the Princess became quite alarmed, and the same evening, when her husband returned, she said to him, ‘Husband, I wish you would give me the ring to keep while you are away a-hunting, for if you were to come to harm, what would become of me alone in this sea-girt palace?’So, next morning, when the Prince went a-hunting, he left the magical ring in his wife’s keeping.As soon as the wicked wise woman knew that the ring was really in the possession of the Princess, she persuaded her to go down the golden stairs to the sea, and look at the golden boat with the silken cradle; so, by coaxing words and cunning arts the golden Princess was inveigled into the boat, in order to have a tiny sail on the sea; but no sooner was her prize safe in the silken cradle, than the pretended aunt turned down her finger, and the boatmen immediately began to row swiftly away.Soon the Princess begged to be taken back, but the wise woman only laughed, and answered all the poor girl’s tears and prayers with slaps and harsh words. At last they arrived at the royal city, where great rejoicings arose when the news was noised abroad that the wise woman had returned with the golden bride for the love-sick Prince. Nevertheless, despite all entreaties, the Princess refused even to look at the Prince for six months; if in that time, she said, her husband did not claim her, she might think of marriage, but until then she would not hear of it.To this the Prince agreed, seeing that six months was not a very long time to wait; besides, he knew that even should her husband or any other guardian turn up, nothing was easier than to kill them, and so get rid both of them and their claims.Meanwhile, the spendthrift Prince having returned from hunting, called out as usual to his wife on reaching the golden stairs, but received no answer; then, entering the palace, he found no one there save the parrot, which flew towards him and said, ‘O master, the Princess’s aunt came here, and has carried her off in a golden boat.’Hearing this, the poor Prince fell to the ground in a fit, and would not be consoled. At last, however, he recovered a little, when the parrot, to comfort him, bade him wait there while it flew away over the sea to gather news of the lost bride.So the faithful parrot flew from land to land, from city to city, from house to house, until it saw the glitter of the Princess’s golden hair. Then it fluttered down beside her and bidding her be of good courage, for it had come to help her, asked for the magic ring. Whereupon the golden Princess wept more than ever, for she knew the wise woman kept the ring in her mouth day and night, and that none could take it from her.However, when the parrot consulted the cat, which had accompanied the faithful bird, the crafty creature declared nothing could be easier.‘All the Princess has to do,’ said the cat, ‘is to ask the wise woman to give her rice for supper tonight, and instead of eating it all, she must scatter some in front of the rat-hole in her room. The rest is my business, and yours.’So that night the Princess had rice for supper, and instead of eating it all, she scattered some before the rat-hole. Then she went to bed, and slept soundly, and the wise woman snored beside her. By and by, when all was quiet, the rats came out to eat up the rice, when the cat, with one bound, pounced on the one which had the longest tail, and carrying it to where the wise woman lay snoring with her mouth open, thrust the tail up her nose. She woke with a most terrific sneeze, and the ring flew out of her mouth on to the floor. Before she could turn, the parrot seized it in his beak, and, without pausing a moment, flew back with it to his master the spendthrift Prince, who had nothing to do but make a holy place, lay the ring in the centre, sprinkle it with buttermilk, and say, ‘O ring, I want my wife!’ and there she was, as beautiful as ever, and overjoyed at seeing the golden palace and her dear husband once more.
A thrush was feeding on a myrtle-tree and did not move from it because its berries were so delicious. A Fowler observed her staying so long in one spot, and having well bird-limed his reeds, caught her. The Thrush, being at the point of death, exclaimed, “O foolish creature that I am! For the sake of a little pleasant food I have deprived myself of my life.”
Long ago, the mice had a general council to consider what measures they could take to outwit their common enemy, the Cat. Some said this, and some said that; but at last a young mouse got up and said he had a proposal to make, which he thought would meet the case. “You will all agree,” said he, “that our chief danger consists in the sly and treacherous manner in which the enemy approaches us. Now, if we could receive some signal of her approach, we could easily escape from her. I venture, therefore, to propose that a small bell be procured, and attached by a ribbon round the neck of the Cat. By this means we should always know when she was about, and could easily retire while she was in the neighborhood.”“Belling the Cat.” Illustration by Milo Winter. Published in The Aesop for Children with Pictures by Milo Winter (1919), Rand McNally and Co.This proposal met with general applause, until an old mouse got up and said: “That is all very well, but who is to bell the Cat?”The mice looked at one another and nobody spoke.Then the old mouse said: “It is easy to propose impossible remedies.”
The young man, Ito Tatewaki, was returning homeward after a journey which he had taken to the city of Kioto. He made his way alone and on foot, and he went with his eyes bent upon the ground, for cares weighed him down and his mind was full of the business which had taken him to Kioto. Night found him upon a lonely road leading across a wild moor. Upon the moor were rocks and stones, with an abundance of flowers, for it was summer time, and here and there grew a dark pine tree, with gnarled trunk and crooked boughs.Tatewaki looked up and beheld the figure of a woman before him in the way. It was a slender girl dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton. Lightly she went along the lonely road in the deepening twilight.“I should say she was the serving-maid of some gentle lady,” Tatewaki said to himself. “The way is solitary and the time is dreary for such a child as she.”So the young man quickened his pace and came up with the maiden. “Child,” he said very gently, “since we tread the same lonely road let us be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be dark.”The pretty maiden turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips.“Sir,” she said, “my mistress will be glad indeed.”“Your mistress?” said Tatewaki.“Why, sir, of a surety she will be glad because you are come.”“Because I am come?”“Indeed, and indeed the time has been long,” said the serving-maid; “but now she will think no more of that.”“Will she not?” said Tatewaki. And on he went by the maiden’s side, walking as one in a dream.Presently the two of them came to a little house, not far from the roadside. Before the house was a small fair garden, with a stream running through it and a stone bridge. About the house and the garden there was a bamboo fence, and in the fence a wicket-gate.“Here dwells my mistress,” said the serving-maid. And they went into the garden through the wicket-gate.Now Tatewaki came to the threshold of the house. He saw a lady standing upon the threshold waiting.She said, “You have come at last, my lord, to give me comfort.”And he answered, “I have come.”When he had said this he knew that he loved the lady, and had loved her since love was.“O love, love,” he murmured, “time is not for such as we.”Then she took him by the hand, and they went into the house together and into a room with white mats and a round latticed window.Before the window there stood a lily in a vessel of water.Here the two held converse together.And after some time there was an old ancient woman that came with saké in a silver flagon; and she brought silver drinking-cups and all things needful. And Tatewaki and the lady drank the “Three Times Three” together. When they had done this the lady said, “Love, let us go out into the shine of the moon. See, the night is as green as an emerald….”So they went and left the house and the small fair garden behind them. Or ever they had closed the wicket-gate the house and the garden and the wicket-gate itself all faded away, dissolving in a faint mist, and not a sign of them was left.“Alas! what is this?” cried Tatewaki.“Let be, dear love,” said the lady, and smiled; “they pass, for we have no more need of them.”Then Tatewaki saw that he was alone with the lady upon the wild moor. And the tall lilies grew about them in a ring. So they stood the live-long night, not touching one another but looking into each other’s eyes most steadfastly. When dawn came, the lady stirred and gave one deep sigh.Tatewaki said, “Lady, why do you sigh?”And when he asked her this, she unclasped her girdle, which was fashioned after the form of a golden scaled dragon with translucent eyes. And she took the girdle and wound it nine times about her love’s arm, and she said, “O love, we part: these are the years until we meet again.” So she touched the golden circles on his arm.Then Tatewaki cried aloud, “O love, who are you? Tell me your name….”She said, “O love, what have we to do with names, you and I?… I go to my people upon the plains. Do not seek for me there…. Wait for me.”And when the lady had spoken she faded slowly and grew ethereal, like a mist. And Tatewaki cast himself upon the ground and put out his hand to hold her sleeve. But he could not stay her. And his hand grew cold and he lay still as one dead, all in the grey dawn.When the sun was up he arose.“The plains,” he said, “the low plains … there will I find her.” So, with the golden token wound about his arm, fleetly he sped down, down to the plains. He came to the broad river, where he saw folk standing on the green banks. And on the river there floated boats of fresh flowers, the red dianthus and the campanula, golden rod and meadow-sweet. And the people upon the river banks called to Tatewaki:“Stay with us. Last night was the Night of Souls. They came to earth and wandered where they would, the kind wind carried them. To-day they return to Yomi. They go in their boats of flowers, the river bears them. Stay with us and bid the departing Souls good speed.”And Tatewaki cried, “May the Souls have sweet passage…. I cannot stay.”So he came to the plains at last, but did not find his lady. Nothing at all did he find, but a wilderness of ancient graves, with nettles overgrown and the waving green grass.So Tatewaki went to his own place, and for nine long years he lived a lonely man. The happiness of home and little children he never knew.“Ah, love,” he said, “not patiently, not patiently, I wait for you…. Love, delay not your coming.”And when the nine years were past he was in his garden upon the Night of Souls. And looking up he saw a woman that came towards him, threading her way through the paths of the garden. Lightly she came; she was a slender girl, dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton. Tatewaki stood up and spoke:“Child,” he said very gently, “since we tread the same lonely road let us be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be dark.”The maid turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips:“Sir,” she said, “my mistress will be glad indeed.”“Will she be glad?” said Tatewaki.“The time has been long.”“Long and very weary,” said Tatewaki.“But now you will think no more of that….”“Take me to your mistress,” said Tatewaki. “Guide me, for I cannot see any more. Hold me, for my limbs fail. Do not leave go my hand, for I am afraid. Take me to your mistress,” said Tatewaki.In the morning his servants found him cold and dead, quietly lying in the shade of the garden trees.
Before Pittsburg had become worthy to be called a settlement, a white man rowed his boat to the mouth of Chartiers creek, near that present city. He was seeking a place in which to make his home, and a little way up-stream, where were timber, water, and a southern slope, he marked a “tomahawk claim,” and set about clearing the land. Next year his wife, two children, and his brother came to occupy the cabin he had built, and for a long time all went happily, but on returning from a long hunt the brothers found the little house in ashes and the charred remains of its occupants in the ruins. Though nearly crazed by this catastrophe they knew that their own lives were in hourly peril, and they wished to live until they could punish the savages for this crime. After burying the bodies, they started east across the hills, leaving a letter on birch bark in a cleft stick at the mouth of Chartiers creek, in which the tragedy was recounted.This letter was afterward found by trappers. The men themselves were never heard from, and it is believed that they, too, fell at the hands of the Indians. Old settlers used to affirm that on summer nights the cries of the murdered innocents could be heard in the little valley where the cabin stood, and when storms were coming up these cries were often blended with the yells of savages. More impressive are the death lights—the will-o’-the-wisps—that wander over the scene of the tragedy, and up and down the neighboring slopes. These apparitions are said to be the spirits of husband and wife seeking each other, or going together in search of their children; but some declare that in their upward streaming rays it can readily be seen that they are the scalps of the slain. Two of them have a golden hue, and these are the scalps of the children. From beneath them drops of red seem to distil on the grass and are found to have bedewed the flowers on the following morning.
Long ago, long before the waylacks lost the wonderful stripes of oat straw gold and the spots of timothy hay green in their marvelous curving tail feathers, long before the doo-doo-jangers whistled among the honeysuckle blossoms and the bitter-basters cried their last and dying wrangling cries, long before the sad happenings that came later, it was then, some years earlier than the year Fifty Fifty, that Young Leather and Red Slippers crossed the Rootabaga Country.To begin with, they were walking across the Rootabaga Country. And they were walking because it made their feet glad to feel the dirt of the earth under their shoes and they were close to the smells of the earth. They learned the ways of birds and bugs, why birds have wings, why bugs have legs, why the gladdywhingers have spotted eggs in a basket nest in a booblow tree, and why the chizzywhizzies scrape off little fiddle songs all summer long while the summer nights last.Early one morning they were walking across the corn belt of the Rootabaga Country singing, “Deep Down Among the Dagger Dancers.” They had just had a breakfast of coffee and hot hankypank cakes covered with cow’s butter. Young Leather said to Red Slippers, “What is the best secret we have come across this summer?”“That is easy to answer,” Red Slippers said with a long flish of her long black eyelashes. “The best secret we have come across is a rope of gold hanging from every star in the sky and when we want to go up we go up.”Walking on they came to a town where they met a man with a sorry face. “Why?” they asked him. And he answered, “My brother is in jail.”“What for?” they asked him again. And he answered again, “My brother put on a straw hat in the middle of the winter and went out on the streets laughing; my brother had his hair cut pompompadour and went out on the streets bareheaded in the summertime laughing; and these things were against the law. Worst of all he sneezed at the wrong time and he sneezed before the wrong persons; he sneezed when it was not wise to sneeze. So he will be hanged to-morrow morning. The gallows made of lumber and the rope made of hemp—they are waiting for him to-morrow morning. They will tie around his neck the hangman’s necktie and hoist him high.”The man with a sorry face looked more sorry than ever. It made Young Leather feel reckless and it made Red Slippers feel reckless. They whispered to each other. Then Young Leather said, “Take this dollar watch. Give it to your brother. Tell him when they are leading him to the gallows he must take this dollar watch in his hand, wind it up and push on the stem winder. The rest will be easy.”So the next morning when they were leading the man to be hanged to the gallows made of lumber and the rope made of hemp, where they were going to hoist him high because he sneezed in the wrong place before the wrong people, he used his fingers winding up the watch and pushing on the stem winder. There was a snapping and a slatching like a gas engine slipping into a big pair of dragon fly wings. The dollar watch changed into a dragon fly ship. The man who was going to be hanged jumped into the dragon fly ship and flew whonging away before anybody could stop him.Young Leather and Red Slippers were walking out of the town laughing and singing again, “Deep Down Among the Dagger Dancers.” The man with a sorry face, not so sorry now any more, came running after them. Behind the man and running after him were five long-legged spider jack-rabbits.“These are for you,” was his exclamation. And they all sat down on the stump of a booblow tree. He opened his sorry face and told the secrets of the five long-legged spider jack-rabbits to Young Leather and Red Slippers. They waved good-by and went on up the road leading the five new jack-rabbits.In the next town they came to was a skyscraper higher than all the other skyscrapers. A rich man dying wanted to be remembered and left in his last will and testament a command they should build a building so high it would scrape the thunder clouds and stand higher than all other skyscrapers with his name carved in stone letters on the top of it, and an electric sign at night with his name on it, and a clock on the tower with his name on it.“I am hungry to be remembered and have my name spoken by many people after I am dead,” the rich man told his friends. “I command you, therefore, to throw the building high in the air because the higher it goes the longer I will be remembered and the longer the years men will mention my name after I am dead.”So there it was. Young Leather and Red Slippers laughed when they first saw the skyscraper, when they were far off along a country road singing their old song, “Deep Down Among the Dagger Dancers.”“We got a show and we give a performance and we want the whole town to see it,” was what Young Leather and Red Slippers said to the mayor of the town when they called on him at the city hall. “We want a license and a permit to give this free show in the public square.”“What do you do?” asked the mayor.“We jump five jack-rabbits, five long-legged spider jack-rabbits over the highest skyscraper you got in your city,” they answered him.“If it’s free and you don’t sell anything nor take any money away from us while it is daylight and you are giving your performance, then here is your license permit,” said the mayor speaking in the manner of a politician who has studied politics.Thousands of people came to see the show on the public square. They wished to know how it would look to see five long-legged, spider jack-rabbits jump over the highest skyscraper in the city.Four of the jack-rabbits had stripes. The fifth had stripes—and spots. Before they started the show Young Leather and Red Slippers held the jack-rabbits one by one in their arms and petted them, rubbed the feet and rubbed the long ears and ran their fingers along the long legs of the jumpers.“Zingo,” they yelled to the first jack-rabbit. He got all ready. “And now zingo!” they yelled again. And the jack-rabbit took a run, lifted off his feet and went on and on and up and up till he went over the roof of the skyscraper and then went down and down till he lit on his feet and came running on his long legs back to the public square where he started from, back where Young Leather and Red Slippers petted him and rubbed his long ears and said, “That’s the boy.”Then three jack-rabbits made the jump over the skyscraper. “Zingo,” they heard and got ready. “And now zingo,” they heard and all three together in a row, their long ears touching each other, they lifted off their feet and went on and on and up and up till they cleared the roof of the skyscraper. Then they came down and down till they lit on their feet and came running to the hands of Young Leather and Red Slippers to have their long legs and their long ears rubbed and petted.Then came the turn of the fifth jack-rabbit, the beautiful one with stripes and spots. “Ah, we’re sorry to see you go, Ah-h, we’re sorry,” they said, rubbing his long ears and feeling of his long legs.Then Young Leather and Red Slippers kissed him on the nose, kissed the last and fifth of the five long-legged spider jack-rabbits.“Good-by, old bunny, good-by, you’re the dandiest bunny there ever was,” they whispered in his long ears. And he, because he knew what they were saying and why they were saying it, he wiggled his long ears and looked long and steady at them from his deep eyes.“Zango,” they yelled. He got ready. “And now zango!” they yelled again. And the fifth jack-rabbit with his stripes and spots lifted off his feet and went on and on and on and up and up and when he came to the roof of the skyscraper he kept on going on and on and up and up till after a while he was gone all the way out of sight.They waited and watched, they watched and waited. He never came back. He never was heard of again. He was gone. With the stripes on his back and the spots on his hair, he was gone. And Young Leather and Red Slippers said they were glad they had kissed him on the nose before he went away on a long trip far off, so far off he never came back.
Once, when his wisdom was less great, Odin had lived in the world of men. Frigga, his Queen, was with him then; they had lived on a bleak island, and they were known as Grimner the Fisherman and his wife.Always Odin and Frigga were watching over the sons of men, watching to know which ones they would foster and train so that they might have the strength and spirit to save the world from the power of the Giants. And while they were staying on the bleak island, Odin and Frigga saw the sons of King Hrauding, and both thought that in them the spirit of heroes could be fostered. Odin and Frigga made plans to bring the children to them, so that they might be under their care and training. One day the boys went fishing. A storm came and drove their boat on the rocks of the island where Odin and Frigga lived.They brought them to their hut, Odin and Frigga, and they told them they would care for them and train them through the winter and that in the spring they would build a boat that would carry them back to their father’s country. “We shall see,” said Odin to Frigga that night, “we shall see which of the two can be formed into the noblest hero.”He said that because Frigga favored one of the boys and he favored the other. Frigga thought well of the elder boy, Agnar, who had a gentle voice and quiet and kindly ways. But Odin thought more of the younger boy. Geirrod, his name was, and he was strong and passionate, with a high and a loud voice.Odin took Geirrod into his charge, and he showed him how to fish and hunt. He made the boy even bolder than he was by making him leap from rock to rock, and by letting him climb the highest cliffs and jump across the widest chasms. He would bring him to the den of the bear and make him fight for his life with the spear he had made for him. Agnar went to the chase, too, and showed his skill and boldness. But Geirrod overcame him in nearly every trial. “What a hero Geirrod will be,” Odin would often say.Agnar stayed often with Frigga. He would stay beside her while she spun, listening to the tales she told, and asking such questions as brought him more and more wisdom. And Agnar heard of Asgard and of the Dwellers in Asgard and of how they protected Midgard, the World of Men, from the Giants of Jötunheim. Agnar, though he did not speak out, said in his own mind that he would give all his life and all his strength and all his thought to helping the work of the Gods.Spring came and Odin built a boat for Geirrod and Agnar. They could go back now to their own country. And before they set out Odin told Geirrod that one day he would come to visit him. “And do not be too proud to receive a Fisherman in your hall, Geirrod,” said Odin. “A King should give welcome to the poorest who comes to his hall.”“I will be a hero, no doubt of that,” Geirrod answered. “And I would be a King, too, only Agnar Little-good was born before me.”Agnar bade goodby to Frigga and to Odin, thanking them for the care they had taken of Geirrod and himself. He looked into Frigga’s eyes, and he told her that he would strive to learn how he might fight the battle for the Gods.The two went into the boat and they rowed away. They came near to King Hrauding’s realm. They saw the castle overlooking the sea. Then Geirrod did a terrible thing. He turned the boat back toward the sea, and he cast the oars away. Then, for he was well fit to swim the roughest sea and climb the highest cliffs, he plunged into the water and struck out toward the shore. And Agnar, left without oars, went drifting out to sea.Geirrod climbed the high cliffs and came to his father’s castle.King Hrauding, who had given up both of his sons for lost, was rejoiced to see him. Geirrod told of Agnar that he had fallen out of the boat on their way back and that he had been drowned. King Hrauding, who had thought both of his sons were gone from him, was glad enough that one had come safe. He put Geirrod beside him on the throne, and when he died Geirrod was made King over the people.And now Odin, having drunk from Mimir’s Well, went through the kingdoms of men, judging Kings and simple people according to the wisdom he had gained. He came at last to the kingdom that Geirrod ruled over. Odin thought that of all the Kings he had judged to be noble, Geirrod would assuredly be the noblest.He went to the King’s house as a Wanderer, blind of one eye, wearing a cloak of dark blue and with a wanderer’s staff in his hands. As he drew near the King’s house men on dark horses came riding behind him. The first of the men did not turn his horse as he came near the Wanderer, but rode on, nearly trampling him to the ground.As they came before the King’s house the men on the dark horses shouted for servants. Only one servant was in the stable. He came out and took the horse of the first man. Then the others called upon the Wanderer to tend their horses. He had to hold the stirrups for some of them to dismount.Odin knew who the first man was. He was Geirrod the King. And he knew who the man who served in the stable was. He was Agnar, Geirrod’s brother. By the wisdom he had gained he knew that Agnar had come back to his father’s kingdom in the guise of a servant, and he knew that Geirrod did not know who this servant was.They went into the stable together. Agnar took bread and broke it and gave some to the Wanderer. He gave him, too, straw to seat himself on. But in a while Odin said, “I would seat myself at the fire in the King’s hall and eat my supper of meat.”“Nay, stay here,” Agnar said. “I will give you more bread and a wrap to cover yourself with. Do not go to the door of the King’s house, for the King is angry today and he might repulse you.”“How?” said Odin. “A King turn away a Wanderer who comes to his door! It cannot be that he would do it!”“Today he is angry,” Agnar said. Again he begged him not to go to the door of the King’s house. But Odin rose up from the straw on which he was seated and went to the door.A porter, hunchbacked and with long arms, stood at the door. “I am a Wanderer, and I would have rest and food in the King’s hall,” Odin said.“Not in this King’s hall,” said the hunchbacked porter. He would have barred the door to Odin, but the voice of the King called him away. Odin then strode into the hall and saw the King at table with his friends, all dark-bearded, and cruel-looking men. And when Odin looked on them he knew that the boy whom he had trained in nobility had become a King over robbers.“Since you have come into the hall where we eat, sing to us, Wanderer,” shouted one of the dark men. “Aye, I will sing to you,” said Odin. Then he stood between two of the stone pillars in the hall and he sang a song reproaching the King for having fallen into an evil way of life, and denouncing all for following the cruel ways of robbers.“Seize him,” said the King, when Odin’s song was finished. The dark men threw themselves upon Odin and put chains around him and bound him between the stone pillars of the hall. “He came into this hall for warmth, and warmth he shall have,” said Geirrod. He called upon his servants to heap up wood around him. They did this. Then the King, with his own hand, put a blazing torch to the wood and the fagots blazed up around the Wanderer.The fagots burned round and round him. But the fire did not burn the flesh of Odin All-Father. The King and the King’s friends stood round, watching with delight the fires blaze round a living man. The fagots all burned away, and Odin was left standing there with his terrible gaze fixed upon the men who were so hard and cruel.They went to sleep, leaving him chained to the pillars of the hall. Odin could have broken the chains and pulled down the pillars, but he wanted to see what else would happen in this King’s house. The servants were ordered not to bring food or drink to him, but at dawn, when there was no one near, Agnar came to him with a horn of ale and gave it to him to drink.The next evening when the King came back from his robberies, and when he and his friends, sitting down at the tables, had eaten like wolves, he ordered the fagots to be placed around Odin. And again they stood around, watching in delight the fire playing around a living man. And as before Odin stood there, unhurt by the fire, and his steady and terrible gaze made the King hate him more and more. And all day he was kept in chains, and the servants were forbidden to bring him food or drink. None knew that a horn of ale was brought to him at dawn.And night after night, for eight nights, this went on. Then, on the ninth night, when the fires around him had been lighted, Odin lifted up his voice and began to sing a song.His song became louder and louder, and the King and the King’s friends and the servants of the thing’s house had to stand still and harken to it. Odin sang about Geirrod, the King; how the Gods had protected him, giving him strength and skill, and how instead of making a noble use of that strength and skill he had made himself like one of the wild beasts. Then he sang of how the vengeance of the Gods was about to fall on this ignoble King.The flames died down and Geirrod and his friends saw before them, not a friendless Wanderer, but one who looked more kingly than any King of the earth. The chains fell down from his body and he advanced toward the evil company. Then Geirrod rushed upon him with his sword in hand to kill him. The sword struck him, but Odin remained unhurt.Thy life runs out,The Gods they are wroth with thee;Draw near if thou canst;Odin thou shalt see.So Odin sang, and, in fear of his terrible gaze, Geirrod and his company shrank away. And as they shrank away they were changed into beasts, into the wolves that range the forests.And Agnar came forward, and him Odin declared to be King. All the folk were glad when Agnar came to rule over them, for they had been oppressed by Geirrod in his cruel reign. And Agnar was not only kind, but he was strong and victorious in his rule.
The Queen of Heaven, who is also known as the Holy Mother, was in mortal life a maiden of Fukien, named Lin. She was pure, reverential and pious in her ways and died at the age of seventeen. She shows her power on the seas and for this reason the seamen worship her. When they are unexpectedly attacked by wind and waves, they call on her and she is always ready to hear their pleas.There are many seamen in Fukien, and every year people are lost at sea. And because of this, most likely, the Queen of Heaven took pity on the distress of her people during her lifetime on earth. And since her thoughts are uninterruptedly turned toward aiding the drowning in their distress, she now appears frequently on the seas.In every ship that sails a picture of the Queen of Heaven hangs in the cabin, and three paper talismans are also kept on shipboard. On the first she is painted with crown and scepter, on the second as a maiden in ordinary dress, and on the third she is pictured with flowing hair, barefoot, standing with a sword in her hand. When the ship is in danger the first talisman is burnt, and help comes. But if this is of no avail, then the second and finally the third picture is burned. And if no help comes then there is nothing more to be done.When seamen lose their course among wind and waves and darkling clouds, they pray devoutly to the Queen of Heaven. Then a red lantern appears on the face of the waters. And if they follow the lantern they will win safe out of all danger. The Queen of Heaven may often be seen standing in the skies, dividing the wind with her sword. When she does this the wind departs for the North and South, and the waves grow smooth.A wooden wand is always kept before her holy picture in the cabin. It often happens that the fish-dragons play in the seas. They are two giant fish who spout up water against one another till the sun in the sky is obscured, and the seas are shrouded in profound darkness. And often, in the distance, one may see a bright opening in the darkness. If the ship holds a course straight for this opening it will win through, and is suddenly floating in calm waters again. Looking back, one may see the two fishes still spouting water, and the ship will have passed directly beneath their jaws. But a storm is always near when the fish dragons swim; therefore it is well to burn paper or wool so that the dragons do not draw the ship down into the depths. Or the Master of the Wand may burn incense before the wand in the cabin. Then he must take the wand and swing it over the water three times, in a circle. If he does so the dragons will draw in their tails and disappear.When the ashes in the censer fly up into the air without any cause, and are scattered about, it is a sign that great danger is threatening.Nearly two-hundred years ago an army was fitted out to subdue the island of Formosa. The captain’s banner had been dedicated with the blood of a white horse. Suddenly the Queen of Heaven appeared at the tip of the banner-staff. In another moment she had disappeared, but the invasion was successful.On another occasion, in the days of Kien Lung, the minister Dschou Ling was ordered to install a new king in the Liu-Kiu Islands. When the fleet was sailing by south of Korea, a storm arose, and his ship was driven toward the Black Whirlpool. The water had the color of ink, sun and moon lost their radiance, and the word was passed about that the ship had been caught in the Black Whirlpool, from which no living man had ever returned. The seaman and travelers awaited their end with lamentations. Suddenly an untold number of lights, like red lanterns, appeared on the surface of the water. Then the seamen were overjoyed and prayed in the cabins. “Our lives are saved!” they cried, “the Holy Mother has come to our aid!” And truly, a beautiful maiden with golden earrings appeared. She waved her hand in the air and the winds became still and the waves grew even. And it seemed as though the ship were being drawn along by a mighty hand. It moved plashing through the waves, and suddenly it was beyond the limits of the Black Whirlpool.Dschou Ling on his return told of this happening, and begged that temples be erected in honor of the Queen of Heaven, and that she be included in the list of the gods. And the emperor granted his prayer.Since then temples of the Queen of Heaven are to be found in all sea-port towns, and her birthday is celebrated on the eighth day of the fourth month with spectacles and sacrifices.Note: “The Queen of Heaven,” whose name is Tian Hou, or more exactly, Tian Fe Niang Niang, is a Taoist goddess of seamen, generally worshiped in all coast towns. Her story is principally made up of local legends of Fukien province, and a variation of the Indian Maritschi (who as Dschunti with the eight arms, is the object of quite a special cult). Tian Hou, since the establishment of the Manchu dynasty, is one of the officially recognized godheads.
Once upon a time there was a fisherman who had a wife and many children. Now it happened that the fisherman did not catch any fish for a time and did not know how to support his family. One day he cast his net and drew out a large fish which began to talk: “Let me go and cast in your net again and you will catch as many fish as you wish.” The fisherman did so and caught more fish than he remembered to have taken before. But in a few days the fish were gone and the fisherman cast his net again, and again caught the big fish, which said: “I see clearly that I must die, so kill me now, and cut me into pieces. Give half to the king, a piece to your wife, one to your dog; and one to your horse; the bones you will tie to the kitchen rafters; your wife will bear sons, and when anything happens to one of them the fish-bone will sweat drops of blood.” The fisherman did as he was told, and in due time his wife gave birth to three sons, the dog to three puppies, and the horse to three colts. The boys grew up and went to school and learned much and prospered. One day the oldest said: “I want to go and see a little of the world,” and took one of the dogs, one of the horses, and some money, and set out, after receiving his father’s and mother’s blessing. He arrived at a forest, and there saw a lion, an eagle, and an ant which had found a dead ass that they wanted to divide among themselves, but could not agree and so were quarrelling. They saw the youth, and called on him to make the division. He was afraid at first, but took heart and gave the lean meat to the eagle, the brains to the ant, and the rest to the lion. They were all satisfied, and the youth continued his way. After he had gone a few steps the animals called him back, and the lion said: “You have settled our dispute, and we wish to reward you; when you wish to become a lion, you have only to say: ‘No more a man, a lion, with the strength of a hundred lions!'” The eagle said: “When you wish to become an eagle, say: ‘No more a man, an eagle, with the strength of a hundred eagles!'” The ant, also, gave him power to transform himself into an ant in the same way. The youth thanked them and departed. As he was passing along the shore of the sea, he saw a dog-fish that was out of the water; he put it back into the sea. The fish said: “When you need me, come to the sea and cry: ‘Dog-fish, help me!'”The youth continued his way and arrived at a city all hung with mourning. “What is the matter?” the young man asked. “There is here,” they told him, “a big cloud (it was a fairy) that every year must have a young girl. This year the lot has fallen on the king’s daughter. If they do not give her up, the cloud will throw so many things into the city that we shall all be killed.” The youth asked if he could see how the thing went, and they told him he could. The ceremony began with muffled drums and an escort of soldiers; the king and queen in tears accompanied their daughter, who was taken to the top of a mountain, placed in a chair, and left alone. The youth, who had followed them, hid himself behind a bush. Then the cloud came, took the young girl in her lap, took her finger in her mouth, and began to suck her blood. This was what the cloud lived on.The princess remained half dead, like a log, and then the cloud carried her away. The youth, who had seen all this, cried: “No more a man, an eagle, with the strength of a hundred eagles!” Then he became an eagle and flew after the cloud. They arrived at a palace, the doors flew open and the cloud entered and carried the princess up-stairs. The eagle alighted on a tree opposite and saw a large room all full of young girls in bed. When the cloud entered they exclaimed: “Mamma! here is our mamma!”The poor girls were always in bed, because the fairy half killed them. She put the princess in a bed, and said to the girls: “I am going to leave you for a few days.” She went away and left the girls. The youth was near and heard everything; he said: “No more an eagle, an ant, with the force of a hundred ants!” He became an ant, entered the palace unseen, and went to the room where the young girls were. There he resumed his shape, and the girls were astonished at seeing a man appear so suddenly, and one of them said to him: “Take care, there is a fairy here; if she finds you on her return she will kill you.” “Do not be troubled,” he answered, “for I wish to see about setting you all free.”Then he went to the bed of the king’s daughter and asked her if she had some token to send her mother. She gave him a ring, and the youth took it and went to the queen, told her where her daughter was, and asked her to send some food to the poor girl. She did so, and the youth retraced his steps, reached the palace, informed the girls, and drew up the food with ropes. He then said to the girls: “When the fairy returns, ask her what you shall do when she dies; thus you will find out how to kill her.”Then he hid himself, and when the fairy returned the girls asked her the question; but she answered: “I shall never die.” They urged her to tell them, and the next day she took them out on a terrace, and said: “Do you see that mountain far off there? On that mountain is a tigress with seven heads. If you wish me to die, a lion must fight that tigress and tear off all seven of her heads. In her body is an egg, and if any one hits me with it in the middle of my forehead I shall die; but if that egg falls into my hands the tigress will come to life again, resume her seven heads, and I shall live.” “Good!” said the young girls; “certainly our mamma can never die.” But in their hearts they were discouraged. When the fairy had departed, the youth came forth and they told him all. “Do not be disheartened,” he said, and straightway went to the princess’ father, asked him for a room, a pan of bread, a barrel of good wine, and a child seven years old. He took all these things and shut himself up in the room, and said to the child: “Do you want to see something, my child? I am going to turn into a lion.”Then he turned into a lion, and the child was afraid; but the youth persuaded him that it was only himself after all, and the child fed him, and was no longer frightened. As soon as he had instructed the child, he took all the things and went to the mountain where the tigress was. Then he filled the pan with bread and wine and said to the child: “I am going to become a lion; when I return give me something to eat.”Then he became a lion, and went to fight the tigress. Meanwhile the fairy returned home, saying: “Alas! I feel ill!” The young girls said to themselves, in delight: “Good!” The youth fought until night, and tore off one of the tigress’ heads; the second day another, and so on until six heads were gone. The fairy kept losing her strength all the time. The youth rested two days before tearing off the last head, and then resumed the fight. At evening the last head was torn off, and the dead tigress disappeared, but the youth was not quick enough to catch the egg, which rolled from her body into the sea and was swallowed by the dog-fish.Then the youth went to the sea: “Dog-fish, help me!” The fish appeared: “What do you want?” “Have you found an egg?” “Yes.” “Give it to me;” and the fish gave him the egg. He took it and went in search of the fairy, and suddenly appeared before her with the egg in his hand. The fairy wanted him to give her the egg, but he made her first restore all the young girls to health and send them home in handsome carriages. Then the youth took the egg, struck it on the fairy’s forehead, and she fell down dead. When the youth saw that she was really dead, he entered a carriage with the king’s daughter and drove to the palace. When the king and queen saw their daughter again, they wept for joy, and married her to her deliverer. The wedding took place with great magnificence, and there were great festivities and rejoicings in the city.A few days after, the husband looked out of the window and saw at the end of the street a dense fog; he said to his wife: “I will go and see what that fog is.” So he dressed for the chase and went away with his dog and horse. After he had passed through the mist, he saw a mountain on which were two beautiful ladies. They came to meet him, and invited him to their palace. He accepted and they showed him into a room, and one of the ladies asked: “Would you like to play a game of chess?” “Very well,” he answered, and began to play and lost. Then they took him into a garden where there were many marble statues, and turned him into one, together with his dog and horse. These ladies were sisters of the fairy, and this was the way they avenged her death.Meanwhile the princess waited and her husband did not return. One morning the father and brothers of the youth found the kitchen full of blood, which dropped from the fish-bone. “Something has happened to him,” they said, and the second brother started in search of him with another one of the dogs and horses. He passed by the palace of the princess, who was at the window, and those brothers looked so much alike that when she saw him she thought it was her husband and called him. He entered and she spoke to him of the fog, but he did not understand her; he let her talk on, however, imagining that his brother was mixed up in that affair. The next morning he arose and went to see the fog with his dog and horse. He passed through the fog, found the mountain and the two ladies, and, to make the story short, the same thing happened to him that happened to his brother, and he became stone. And the queen waited, and in the father’s kitchen the bone dropped blood faster than ever.The third brother too set out with his dog and horse. When he came to the palace, the princess saw him from the window, took him for her husband, and called him in. He entered and she reproved him for having made her wait so long, and spoke of the mist; but he did not understand her and said: “I did not see very clearly what was in the mist, and I wish to go there again.” He departed, and when he had passed through the mist he met an old man who said to him: “Where are you going? Take care, your brothers have been turned into statues. You will meet two ladies; if they ask you to play chess with them, here are two pawns, say that you cannot play except with your own pawns. Then make an agreement with them that, if you win, you can do with them what you please; if they win, they can do what they please with you. If you win, and they beg for mercy, command them to restore to life all the stone statues with which the palace is filled, and when they have done so, you can do what you will with these ladies.”The youth thanked the old man, departed, followed his directions, and won. The two ladies begged for their lives, and he granted their prayer on condition of restoring to life all those stone statues. They took a wand, touched the statues, and they became animated; but no sooner were they all restored to life than they fell on the two ladies and cut them into bits no larger than their ears.Thus the three brothers were reunited. They related their adventures, and returned to the palace. The princess was astonished when she saw them, and did not know which was her husband. But he made himself known, told her that these were his brothers, and they had their parents come there, and they all lived happily together, and thus the story is ended.
There lived, once upon a time, a wicked prince whose heart and mind were set upon conquering all the countries of the world, and on frightening the people; he devastated their countries with fire and sword, and his soldiers trod down the crops in the fields and destroyed the peasants’ huts by fire, so that the flames licked the green leaves off the branches, and the fruit hung dried up on the singed black trees. Many a poor mother fled, her naked baby in her arms, behind the still smoking walls of her cottage; but also there the soldiers followed her, and when they found her, she served as new nourishment to their diabolical enjoyments; demons could not possibly have done worse things than these soldiers! The prince was of opinion that all this was right, and that it was only the natural course which things ought to take. His power increased day by day, his name was feared by all, and fortune favoured his deeds.He brought enormous wealth home from the conquered towns, and gradually accumulated in his residence riches which could nowhere be equalled. He erected magnificent palaces, churches, and halls, and all who saw these splendid buildings and great treasures exclaimed admiringly: “What a mighty prince!” But they did not know what endless misery he had brought upon other countries, nor did they hear the sighs and lamentations which rose up from the débris of the destroyed cities.The prince often looked with delight upon his gold and his magnificent edifices, and thought, like the crowd: “What a mighty prince! But I must have more—much more. No power on earth must equal mine, far less exceed it.”He made war with all his neighbours, and defeated them. The conquered kings were chained up with golden fetters to his chariot when he drove through the streets of his city. These kings had to kneel at his and his courtiers’ feet when they sat at table, and live on the morsels which they left. At last the prince had his own statue erected on the public places and fixed on the royal palaces; nay, he even wished it to be placed in the churches, on the altars, but in this the priests opposed him, saying: “Prince, you are mighty indeed, but God’s power is much greater than yours; we dare not obey your orders.”“Well,” said the prince. “Then I will conquer God too.” And in his haughtiness and foolish presumption he ordered a magnificent ship to be constructed, with which he could sail through the air; it was gorgeously fitted out and of many colours; like the tail of a peacock, it was covered with thousands of eyes, but each eye was the barrel of a gun. The prince sat in the centre of the ship, and had only to touch a spring in order to make thousands of bullets fly out in all directions, while the guns were at once loaded again. Hundreds of eagles were attached to this ship, and it rose with the swiftness of an arrow up towards the sun. The earth was soon left far below, and looked, with its mountains and woods, like a cornfield where the plough had made furrows which separated green meadows; soon it looked only like a map with indistinct lines upon it; and at last it entirely disappeared in mist and clouds. Higher and higher rose the eagles up into the air; then God sent one of his numberless angels against the ship.The wicked prince showered thousands of bullets upon him, but they rebounded from his shining wings and fell down like ordinary hailstones. One drop of blood, one single drop, came out of the white feathers of the angel’s wings and fell upon the ship in which the prince sat, burnt into it, and weighed upon it like thousands of hundredweights, dragging it rapidly down to the earth again; the strong wings of the eagles gave way, the wind roared round the prince’s head, and the clouds around—were they formed by the smoke rising up from the burnt cities-took strange shapes, like crabs many, many miles long, which stretched their claws out after him, and rose up like enormous rocks, from which rolling masses dashed down, and became fire-spitting dragons.The prince was lying half-dead in his ship, when it sank at last with a terrible shock into the branches of a large tree in the wood. “I will conquer God!” said the prince. “I have sworn it: my will must be done!”And he spent seven years in the construction of wonderful ships to sail through the air, and had darts cast from the hardest steel to break the walls of heaven with. He gathered warriors from all countries, so many that when they were placed side by side they covered the space of several miles. They entered the ships and the prince was approaching his own, when God sent a swarm of gnats—one swarm of little gnats. They buzzed round the prince and stung his face and hands; angrily he drew his sword and brandished it, but he only touched the air and did not hit the gnats. Then he ordered his servants to bring costly coverings and wrap him in them, that the gnats might no longer be able to reach him. The servants carried out his orders, but one single gnat had placed itself inside one of the coverings, crept into the prince’s ear and stung him. The place burnt like fire, and the poison entered into his blood. Mad with pain, he tore off the coverings and his clothes too, flinging them far away, and danced about before the eyes of his ferocious soldiers, who now mocked at him, the mad prince, who wished to make war with God, and was overcome by a single little gnat.
Yang Yang and Hoo Hoo were two girls who used to live in Battle Ax, Michigan, before they moved to Wagon Wheel Gap, Colorado, and back to Broken Doors, Ohio, and then over to Open Windows, Iowa, and at last down to Alfafa Clover, Oklahoma, where they say, “Our Oklahoma home is in Oklahoma.”One summer morning Yang Yang and Hoo woke up saying to each other, “Our Oklahoma home is in Oklahoma.” And it was that morning the shadow of a goose flew in at the open window, just over the bed where Yang Yang and Hoo Hoo slept with their eyes shut all night and woke with their eyes open in the morning. The shadow of the goose fluttered a while along the ceiling, flickered a while along the wall, and then after one more flutter and flicker put itself on the wall like a picture of a goose put there to look at, only it was a living picture—and it made its neck stretch in a curve and then stretch straight. “Yang yang,” cried Yang Yang. “Yang yang.” “Hoo hoo,” sang Hoo Hoo. “Hoo hoo.”And while Hoo Hoo kept on calling a soft, low coaxing hoo hoo, Yang Yang kept on crying a hard, noisy nagging yang yang till everybody in the house upstairs and down and everybody in the neighbor houses heard her yang-yanging. The shadow of the goose lifted its left wing a little, lifted its right foot a little, got up on its goose legs, and walked around and around in a circle on its goose feet. And every time it walked around in a circle it came back to the same place it started from, with its left foot or right foot in the same foot spot it started from. Then it stayed there in the same place like a picture put there to look at, only it was a living picture with its neck sometimes sticking up straight in the air and sometimes bending in a long curving bend.Yang Yang threw the bed covers off, slid out of bed and ran downstairs yang-yanging for her mother. But Hoo Hoo sat up in bed laughing, counting her pink toes to see if there were ten pink toes the same as the morning before. And while she was counting her pink toes she looked out of the corners of her eyes at the shadow of the goose on the wall. nd again the shadow of the goose lifted its left wing a little, lifted its right foot a little, got up on its goose legs, and walked around and around in a circle on its goose feet. And every time it walked around in a circle it came back to the same place it started from, with its left foot or right foot back in the same foot spot it started from. Then it stayed there in the same place where it put itself on the wall like a picture to look at, only it was a living picture with its neck sticking up straight in the air and then changing so its neck was bending in a long curving bend. And all the time little Hoo Hoo was sitting up in bed counting her pink toes and looking out of the corners of her eyes at the shadow of the goose. By and by little Hoo Hoo said, “Good morning—hoo hoo for you—and hoo hoo again, I was looking at the window when you came in. I saw you put yourself on the wall like a picture. I saw you begin to walk and come back where you started from with your neck sticking straight up and your neck bending in a bend. I give you good morning. I blow a hoo hoo to you. I blow two of a hoo hoo to you.”Then the shadow of a goose, as if to answer good morning, and as if to answer what Hoo Hoo meant by saying, “I blow two of a hoo hoo to you,” stretched its neck sticking up straight and long, longer than any time yet, and then bended its neck in more of a bend than any time yet. And all the time Hoo Hoo was sitting in bed feeling of her toes with her fingers to see if she had one toe for every finger, and to see if she had one pink little toe to match her one pink little finger, and to see if she had one fat flat big toe to match her one fat fiat thumb. Then when the room was all quiet the shadow of the goose lifted its left foot and began singing—singing just as the shadow of a goose always sings—with the left foot—very or Song of softly with the left foot—so softly you must listen with the softest little listeners you have deep inside your ears. And this was the song, this was the old- time, old-fashioned left foot song the shadow of the goose sang for Hoo Hoo: Be a yang yang if you want to. Be a hoo hoo if you want to. The yang yangs always yang in the morning. The hoo hoos always hoo in the morning. Early in the morning the putters sit putting, Putting on your nose, putting on your cars, Putting in your eyes and the lashes on your eyes, Putting on the chins of your chinny chin chins. And after singing the left foot song the shadow of the goose walked around in a long circle, came back where it started from, stopped and stood still with the proud stand- still of a goose, and then stretched its neck sticking up straight and long, longer than any time yet, and then bended its neck bent and twisted in longer bends than any time yet. Then the shadow took itself off the wall, fluttered and flickered along the ceiling and over the bed, flew out of the window and was gone, leaving Hoo Hoo all alone sitting up in bed counting her pink toes.Out of the corners of her eyes she looked up at the wall of the room, at the place where the shadow of the goose put itself like a picture. And there she saw a shadow spot. She looked and saw it was a left foot, the same left foot that had been singing the left foot song. Soon Yang Yang came yang-yanging into the room holding to her mother’s apron. Hoo Hoo told her mother all the happenings that happened. The mother wouldn’t believe it. Then Hoo Hoo pointed up to the wall, to the left foot, the shadow spot left behind by the shadow of the goose when it took itself off the wall. And now when Yang Yang and Hoo Hoo sleep all night with their eyes shut and wake up in the morning with their eyes open, sometimes they say, “Our Oklahoma home is in Oklahoma,” and sometimes they sing: Be a yang yang and yang yang if you want to. Be a hoo hoo and hoo hoo if you want to.
A dove came to a brook to drink,When, leaning o’er its crumbling brink,An ant fell in, and vainly tried,In this, to her, an ocean tide,To reach the land; whereat the dove,With every living thing in love,Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her,By which the ant regain’d the shore.A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly,Soon after chanced this dove to spy;And, being arm’d with bow and arrow,The hungry codger doubted notThe bird of Venus, in his pot,Would make a soup before the morrow.Just as his deadly bow he drew,Our ant just bit his heel.Roused by the villain’s squeal,The dove took timely hint, and flewFar from the rascal’s coop;—And with her flew his soup.
There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he entered it he heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were there. He followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at the top of this a little child was sitting, for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms, had flown down, snatched it away, and set it on the high tree.The forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to himself, “You will take him home with you, and bring him up with your Lina.” He took it home, therefore, and the two children grew up together. The one, however, which he had found on a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina loved each other so dearly that when they did not see each other they were sad.The forester, however, had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to the spring. Lina saw this and said, “Hark you, old Sanna, why are you fetching so much water?” “If you will never repeat it to any one, I will tell you why.” So Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to any one, and then the cook said, “Early tomorrow morning, when the forester is out hunting, I will heat the water, and when it is boiling in the kettle, I will throw in Fundevogel, and will boil him in it.”The next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to Fundevogel, “If you will never leave me, I too will never leave you.” Fundevogel said, “Neither now, nor ever will I leave you.” Then said Lina, “Then will I tell you. Last night, old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing that, and she said that if I would promise not to tell any one she would tell me, and I said I would be sure not to tell any one, and she said that early tomorrow morning when father was out hunting, she would set on the kettle full of water, throw you into it and boil you; but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together.”The two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and went away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the bed- room to fetch Fundevogel and throw him into it. But when she came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then she was terribly alarmed, and she said to herself, “What shall I say now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone? They must be followed instantly to get them back again.”Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and over- take the children. The children, however, were sitting outside the forest, and when they saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to Fundevogel, “Never leave me, and I will never leave you.” Fundevogel said, “Neither now, nor ever.” Then said Lina, “Do you become a rose- tree, and I, the rose upon it.” When the three servants came to the forest, nothing was there but a rose-tree and one rose on it, but the children were nowhere. Then said they, “There is nothing to be done here,” and they went home and told the cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush with one rose on it. Then the old cook scolded and said, “You simpletons, you should have cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and brought it home with you; go, and do it at once.” They had therefore to go out and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming from a distance. Then Lina said, “Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee.” Fundevogel said, “Neither now, nor ever.” Said Lina, “Then you become a church, and I’ll be the chandelier in it.” So when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with a chandelier in it. They said therefore to each other, “What can we do here, let us go home.” When they got home, the cook asked if they had not found them; so they said no, they had found nothing but a church, and that there was a chandelier in it. And the cook scolded them and said, “You fools! why did you not pull the church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with you?” And now the old cook herself got on her legs, and went with the three servants in pursuit of the children. The children, however, saw from afar that the three servants were coming, and the cook waddling after them. Then said Lina, “Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee.” Then said Fundevogel, “Neither now, nor ever.” Said Lina, “Be a fishpond, and I will be the duck upon it.” The cook, however, came up to them, and when she saw the pond she lay down by it, and was about to drink it up. But the duck swam quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew her into the water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went home together, and were heartily delighted, and if they are not dead, they are living still.
Long ago there lived a King who had an only son, by name Prince Bahrâmgor, who was as splendid as the noonday sun, and as beautiful as the midnight moon. Now one day the Prince went a-hunting, and he hunted to the north, but found no game; he hunted to the south, yet no quarry arose; he hunted to the east, and still found nothing. Then he turned towards the setting sun, when suddenly from a thicket flashed a golden deer. Burnished gold were its hoofs and horns, rich gold its body. Dazzled by the wonderful sight, the astonished Prince bade his retainers form a circle round the beautiful strange creature, and so gradually enclose and secure it.“Remember,” said the Prince, “I hold him towards whom the deer may run to be responsible for its escape, or capture.”Closer and closer drew the glittering circle of horsemen, while in the centre stood the golden deer, until, with marvellous speed, it fled straight towards the Prince, But he was swifter still, and caught it by the golden horns. Then the creature found human voice, and cried, “Let me go, oh! Prince Bahrâmgor and I will give you countless treasures!”But the Prince laughed, saying, “Not so! I have gold and jewels galore, but never a golden deer.”“Let me go,” pleaded the deer, “and I will give you more than treasures!”“And what may that be?” asked the Prince, still laughing.“I will give you a ride on my back such as never mortal man rode before,” replied the deer.“Done!” cried the gay Prince, vaulting lightly to the deer’s back; and immediately, like a bird from a thicket, the strange glittering creature rose through the air till it was lost to sight. For seven days and seven nights it carried the Prince over all the world, so that he could see everything like a picture passing below, and on the evening of the seventh day it touched the earth once more, and instantly vanished. Prince Bahrâmgor rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, for he had never been in such a strange country before. Everything seemed new and unfamiliar. He wandered about for some time looking for the trace of a house or a footprint, when suddenly from the ground at his feet popped a wee old man.“How did you come here? and what are you looking for, my son?” quoth he politely.So Prince Bahrâmgor told him how he had ridden thither on a golden deer, which had disappeared, and how he was now quite lost and bewildered in this strange country.“Do not be alarmed, my son,” returned the wee old man; “it is true you are in Demonsland, but no one shall hurt you, for I am the demon Jasdrûl whose life you saved when I was on the earth in the shape of a golden deer.”Then the demon Jasdrûl took Prince Bahrâmgor to his house, and treated him right royally, giving him a hundred keys, and saying, “These are the keys of my palaces and gardens. Amuse yourself by looking at them, and mayhap somewhere you may find a treasure worth having.”So every day Prince Bahrâmgor opened a new garden, and examined a new palace, and in one he found rooms full of gold, and in another jewels, and in a third rich stuffs, in fact everything the heart could desire, until he came to the hundredth palace, and that he found was a mere hovel, full of all poisonous things, herbs, stones, snakes, and insects. But the garden in which it stood was by far the most magnificent of all. It was seven miles this way, and seven miles that, full of tall trees and bright flowers, lakes, streams, fountains, and summer-houses. Gay butterflies flitted about, and birds sang in it all day and all night. The Prince, enchanted, wandered seven miles this way, and seven miles that, until he was so tired that he lay down to rest in a marble summer-house, where he found a golden bed, all spread with silken shawls. Now while he slept, the Fairy Princess Shâhpasand, who was taking the air, fairy-fashion, in the shape of a pigeon, happened to fly over the garden, and catching sight of the beautiful, splendid, handsome young Prince, she sank to earth in sheer astonishment at beholding such a lovely sight, and, resuming her natural shape—as fairies always do when they touch the ground—she stooped over the young man and gave him a kiss.He woke up in a hurry, and what was his astonishment on seeing the most beautiful Princess in the world kneeling gracefully beside him!“Dearest Prince!” cried the maiden, clasping her hands,”I have been looking for you everywhere!”Now the very same thing befell Prince Bahrâmgor that had happened to the Princess Shâhpasand —that is to say, no sooner did he set eyes on her than he fell desperately in love, and so, of course, they agreed to get married without any delay. Nevertheless, the Prince thought it best first to consult his host, the demon Jasdrûl, seeing how powerful he was in Demonsland. To the young man’s delight, the demon not only gave his consent, but appeared greatly pleased, rubbing his hands and saying, “Now you will remain with me and be so happy that you will never think of returning to your own country any more.”So Prince Bahrâmgor and the Fairy Princess Shâhpasand were married, and lived ever so happily, for ever so long a time.At last the thought of the home he had left came back to the Prince, and he began to think longingly of his father the King, his mother the Queen, and of his favourite horse and hound. Then from thinking of them he fell to speaking of them to the Princess, his wife, and then from speaking he took to sighing and sighing and refusing his dinner, until he became quite pale and thin. Now the demon Jasdrûl used to sit every night in a little echoing room below the Prince and Princess’s chamber, and listen to what they said, so as to be sure they were happy; and when he heard the Prince talking of his far-away home on the earth, he sighed too, for he was a kindhearted demon, and loved his handsome young Prince.At last he asked Prince Bahrâmgor what was the cause of his growing so pale and sighing so often—for so amiable was the young man that he would rather have died of grief than have committed the rudeness of telling his host he was longing to get away; but when he was asked he said piteously, “Oh, good demon! let me go home and see my father the King, my mother the Queen, my horse and my hound, for I am very weary. Let me and my Princess go, or assuredly I shall die!”At first the demon refused, but at last he took pity on the Prince, and said, “Be it so; nevertheless you will soon repent and long to be back in Demonsland; for the world has changed since you left it, and you will have trouble. Take this hair with you, and when you need help, burn it, then I will come immediately to your assistance.”Then the demon Jasdrûl said a regretful goodbye, and, Hey presto!— Prince Bahrâmgor found himself standing outside his native city, with his beautiful bride beside him.But, alas! as the good-natured demon had foretold, everything was changed. His father and mother were both dead, a usurper sat on the throne, and had put a price on Bahrâmgor’s head should he ever return from his mysterious journey. Luckily no one recognised the young Prince (so much had he changed during his residence in Demonsland) save his old huntsman, who, though overjoyed to see his master once more, said it was as much as his life was worth to give the Prince shelter; still, being a faithful servant, he agreed to let the young couple live in the garret of his house.“My old mother, who is blind,” he said, “will never see you coming and going; and as you used to be fond of sport, you can help me to hunt, as I used to help you.”So the splendid Prince Bahrâmgor and his lovely Princess hid in the garret of the huntsman’s house, and no one knew they were there. Now one fine day, when the Prince had gone out to hunt, as servant to the huntsman, Princess Shâhpasand took the opportunity of washing her beautiful golden hair, which hung round her ivory neck and down to her pretty ankles like a shower of sunshine, and when she had washed it she combed it, and set the window ajar so that the breeze might blow in and dry her hair.Just at this moment the Chief Constable of the town happened to pass by, and hearing the window open, looked up and saw the lovely Shâhpasand, with her glittering golden hair. He was so overcome at the sight that he fell right off his horse into the gutter. His servants, thinking he had a fit, picked him up and carried him back to his house, where he never ceased raving about a beautiful fairy with golden hair in the huntsman’s garret. This set everybody wondering whether he had been bewitched, and the story meeting the King’s ear, he sent down some soldiers to make inquiries at the huntsman’s house.“No one lives here!” said the huntsman’s cross old mother, “no beautiful lady, nor ugly one either, nor any person at all, save me and my son. However, go to the garret and look for yourselves.”Hearing these words of the old woman, Princess Shâhpasand bolted the door, and, seizing a knife, cut a hole in the wooden roof. Then, taking the form of a pigeon, she flew out, so that when the soldiers burst open the door they found no one in the garret.The poor Princess was greatly distressed at having to leave her beautiful young Prince in this hurried way, and as she flew past the blind old crone she whispered in her ear, “I go to my father’s house in the Emerald Mountain.”In the evening when Prince Bahrâmgor returned from hunting, great was his grief at finding the garret empty! Nor could the blind old crone tell him much of what had occurred; still, when he heard of the mysterious voice which whispered, “I go to my father’s house in the Emerald Mountain,” he was at first somewhat comforted. Afterwards, when he reflected that he had not the remotest idea where the Emerald Mountain was to be found, he fell into a very sad state, and casting himself on the ground he sobbed and sighed; he refused his dinner, and never ceased crying, “Oh, my dearest Princess! my dearest Princess!”At last he remembered the magic hair, and taking it from its hiding-place threw it into the fire. It had scarcely begun to burn when, Hey presto!—the demon Jasdrûl appeared, and asked him what he wanted.“Show me the way to the Emerald Mountain,” cried the Prince.Then the kind-hearted demon shook his head sorrowfully, saying, “You would never reach it alive, my son. Be guided by me,—forget all that has passed, and begin a new life.”“I have but one life,” answered the faithful Prince, “and that is gone if I lose my dearest Princess! As I must die, let me die seeking her.”Then the demon Jasdrûl was touched by the constancy of the splendid young Prince, and promised to aid him as far as possible. So he carried the young man back to Demonsland, and giving him a magic wand, bade him travel over the country until he came to the demon Nanak Chand’s house.“You will meet with many dangers by the way,” said his old friend, “but keep the magic wand in your hand day and night, and nothing will harm you. That is all I can do for you, but Nanak Chand, who is my elder brother, can help you farther on your way.”So Prince Bahrâmgor travelled through Demonsland, and because he held the magic wand in his hand day and night, no harm came to him. At last he arrived at the demon Nanak Chand’s house, just as the demon had awakened from sleep, which, according to the habit of demons, had lasted for twelve years. Naturally he was desperately hungry, and on catching sight of the Prince, thought what a dainty morsel he would be for breakfast; nevertheless, though his mouth watered, the demon restrained his appetite when he saw the wand, and asked the Prince politely what he wanted. But when the demon Nanak Chand had heard the whole story, he shook his head, saying, “You will never reach the Emerald Mountain, my son. Be guided by me,—forget all that has passed, and begin a new life.”Then the splendid young Prince answered as before, “I have but one life, and that is gone if I lose my dearest Princess! If I must die, let me die seeking her.”This answer touched the demon Nanak Chand, and he gave the faithful Prince a box of powdered antimony, and bade him travel on through Demonsland till he came to the house of the great demon Safed. “For,” said he, “Safed is my eldest brother, and if anybody can do what you want, he will. If you are in need, rub the powder on your eyes, and whatever you wish near will be near, but whatever you wish far will be far.”So the constant Prince travelled on through all the dangers and difficulties of Demonsland, till he reached the demon Safed’s house, to whom he told his story, showing the powder and the magic wand, which had brought him so far in safety.But the great demon Safed shook his head, saying, “You will never reach the Emerald Mountain alive, my son. Be guided by me,—forget all that has passed, and begin a new life.”Still the faithful Prince gave the same answer, “I have but one life, and that is gone if I lose my dearest Princess! If I must die, let me die seeking her.”Then the great demon nodded his head approvingly, and said, “You are a brave lad, and I must do my best for you. Take this yech-cap: whenever you put it on you will become invisible. Journey to the north, and after a while in the far distance you will see the Emerald Mountain. Then put the powder on your eyes and wish the mountain near, for it is an enchanted hill, and the farther you climb the higher it grows. On the summit lies the Emerald City: enter it by means of your invisible cap, and find the Princess—if you can.”So the Prince journeyed joyfully to the north, until in the far far distance he saw the glittering Emerald Mountain. Then he rubbed the powder on his eyes, and behold! what he desired was near, and the Emerald City lay before him, looking as if it had been cut out of a single jewel. But the Prince thought of nothing save his dearest Princess, and wandered up and down the gleaming city protected by his invisible cap. Still he could not find her. The fact was, the Princess Shâhpasand’s father had locked her up inside seven prisons, for fear she should fly away again, for he doated on her, and was in terror lest she should escape back to earth and her handsome young Prince, of whom she never ceased talking.“If your husband comes to you, well and good,” said the old man, “but you shall never go back to him.”So the poor Princess wept all day long inside her seven prisons, for how could mortal man ever reach the Emerald Mountain?Now the Prince, whilst roaming disconsolately about the city, noticed a servant woman who every day at a certain hour entered a certain door with a tray of sweet dishes on her head. Being curious, he took advantage of his invisible cap, and when she opened the door he slipped in behind her. Nothing was to be seen but a large door, which, after shutting and locking the outer one, the servant opened. Again Prince Bahrâmgor slipped in behind her, and again saw nothing but a huge door. And so on he went through all the seven doors, till he came to the seventh prison, and there sat the beautiful Princess Shâhpasand, weeping salt tears. At the sight of her he could scarcely refrain from flinging himself at her feet, but remembering that he was invisible, he waited till the servant after putting down the tray retired, locking all the seven prisons one by one. Then he sat down by the Princess and began to eat out of the same dish with her.She, poor thing, had not the appetite of a sparrow, and scarcely ate anything, so when she saw the contents of the dish disappearing, she thought she must be dreaming. But when the whole had vanished, she became convinced some one was in the room with her, and cried out faintly, “Who eats in the same dish with me?”Then Prince Bahrâmgor lifted the yech-cap from his forehead, so that he was no longer quite invisible, but showed like a figure seen in early dawn. At this the Princess wept bitterly, calling him by name, thinking she had seen his ghost, but as he lifted theyech-cap more and more, and, growing from a shadow to real flesh and blood, clasped her in his arms, her tears changed to radiant smiles.Great was the astonishment of the servant next day when she found the handsome young Prince seated beside his dearest Princess. She ran to tell the King, who, on hearing the whole story from his daughter’s lips, was very much pleased at the courage and constancy of Prince Bahrâmgor, and ordered Princess Shâhpasand to be released at once; “For,” he said, “now her husband has found his way to her, my daughter will not want to go to him.”Then he appointed the Prince to be his heir, and the faithful Prince Bahrâmgor and his beautiful bride lived happily ever afterwards in the Emerald kingdom.
In times of yore there was a King and a Queen in the south of Ireland who had three sons, all beautiful children; but the Queen, their mother, sickened unto death when they were yet very young, which caused great grief throughout the Court, particularly to the King, her husband, who could in no wise be comforted. Seeing that death was drawing near her, she called the King to her and spoke as follows:`I am now going to leave you, and as you are young and in your prime, of course after my death you will marry again. Now all the request I ask of you is that you will build a tower in an island in the sea, wherein you will keep your three sons until they are come of age and fit to do for themselves; so that they may not be under the power or jurisdiction of any other woman. Neglect not to give them education suitable to their birth, and let them be trained up to every exercise and pastime requisite for king’s sons to learn. This is all I have to say, so farewell.’The King had scarce time, with tears in his eyes, to assure her she should be obeyed in everything, when she, turning herself in her bed, with a smile gave up the ghost. Never was greater mourning seen than was throughout the Court and the whole kingdom; for a better woman than the Queen, to rich and poor, was not to be found in the world. She was interred with great pomp and magnificence, and the King, her husband, became in a manner inconsolable for the loss of her. However, he caused the tower to be built and his sons placed in it, under proper guardians, according to his promise.In process of time the lords and knights of the kingdom counselled the King (as he was young) to live no longer as he had done, but to take a wife; which counsel prevailing, they chose him a rich and beautiful princess to be his consort–a neighbouring King’s daughter, of whom he was very fond. Not long after, the Queen had a fine son, which caused great feasting and rejoicing at the Court, insomuch that the late Queen, in a manner, was entirely forgotten. That fared well, and King and Queen lived happy together for several years.At length the Queen, having some business with the hen-wife, went herself to her, and, after a long conference passed, was taking leave of her, when the hen-wife prayed that if ever she should come back to her again she might break her neck. The Queen, greatly incensed at such a daring insult from one of her meanest subjects, demanded immediately the reason, or she would have her put to death.`It was worth your while, madam,’ says the hen-wife, `to pay me well for it, for the reason I prayed so on you concerns you much.’`What must I pay you?’ asked the Queen.`You must give me,’ says she, `the full of a pack of wool, and I have an ancient crock which you must fill with butter, likewise a barrel which you must fill for me full of wheat.’`How much wool will it take to the pack?’ says the Queen.`It will take seven herds of sheep,’ said she, `and their increase for seven years.’`How much butter will it take to fill your crock?’`Seven dairies,’ said she, `and their increase for seven years.’`And how much will it take to fill the barrel you have?’ says the Queen.`It will take the increase of seven barrels of wheat for seven years.’`That is a great quantity,’ says the Queen; `but the reason must be extraordinary, and before I want it, I will give you all you demand.’`Well,’ says the hen-wife, `it is because you are so stupid that you don’t observe or find out those affairs that are so dangerous and hurtful to yourself and your child.’`What is that?’ says the Queen.`Why,’ says she, `the King your husband has three fine sons he had by the late Queen, whom he keeps shut up in a tower until they come of age, intending to divide the kingdom between them, and let your son push his fortune; now, if you don’t find some means of destroying them; your child and perhaps yourself will be left desolate in the end.’`And what would you advise me to do?’ said she; `I am wholly at a loss in what manner to act in this affair.’`You must make known to the King,’ says the hen-wife, `that you heard of his sons, and wonder greatly that he concealed them all this time from you; tell him you wish to see them, and that it is full time for them to be liberated, and that you would be desirous he would bring them to the Court. The King will then do so, and there will be a great feast prepared on that account, and also diversions of every sort to amuse the people; and in these sports,’ said she, `ask the King’s sons to play a game at cards with you, which they will not refuse. Now,’ says the hen-wife, `you must make a bargain, that if you win they must do whatever you command them, and if they win, that you must do whatever they command you to do; this bargain must be made before the assembly, and here is a pack of cards,’ says she, `that I am thinking you will not lose by.’The Queen immediately took the cards, and, after returning the hen-wife thanks for her kind instruction, went back to the palace, where she was quite uneasy until she got speaking to the King in regard of his children; at last she broke it off to him in a very polite and engaging manner, so that he could see no muster or design in it. He readily consented to her desire, and his sons were sent for to the tower, who gladly came to Court, rejoicing that they were freed from such confinement. They were all very handsome, and very expert in all arts and exercises, so that they gained the love and esteem of all that had seen them.The Queen, more jealous with them than ever, thought it an age until all the feasting and rejoicing was over, that she might get making her proposal, depending greatly on the power of the hen- wife’s cards. At length this royal assembly began to sport and play at all kinds of diversions, and the Queen very cunningly challenged the three Princes to play at cards with her, making bargain with them as she had been instructed.They accepted the challenge, and the eldest son and she played the first game, which she won; then the second son played, and she won that game likewise; the third son and she then played the last game, and he won it, which sorely grieved her that she had not him in her power as well as the rest, being by far the handsomest and most beloved of the three.However, everyone was anxious to hear the Queen’s commands in regard to the two Princes, not thinking that she had any ill design in her head against them. Whether it was the hen-wife instructed her, or whether it was from her own knowledge, I cannot tell; but she gave out they must go and bring her the Knight of the Glen’s wild Steed of Bells, or they should lose their heads.The young Princes were not in the least concerned, not knowing what they had to do; but the whole Court was amazed at her demand, knowing very well that it was impossible for them ever to get the steed, as all that ever sought him perished in the attempt. However, they could not retract the bargain, and the youngest Prince was desired to tell what demand he had on the Queen, as he had won his game.`My brothers,’ says he, `are now going to travel, and, as I understand, a perilous journey wherein they know not what road to take or what may happen them. I am resolved, therefore, not to stay here, but to go with them, let what will betide; and I request and command, according to my bargain, that the Queen shall stand on the highest tower of the palace until we come back (or find out that we are certainly dead), with nothing but sheaf corn for her food and cold water for her drink, if it should be for seven years and longer.’All things being now fixed, the three princes departed the Court in search of the Knight of the Glen’s palace, and travelling along the road they came up with a man who was a little lame, and seemed to be somewhat advanced in years; they soon fell into discourse, and the youngest of the princes asked the stranger his name, or what was the reason he wore so remarkable a black cap as he saw on him.`I am called,’ said he, `the Thief of Sloan, and sometimes the Black Thief from my cap; `and so telling the prince the most of his adventures, he asked him again where they were bound for, or what they were about.The prince, willing to gratify his request, told him their affairs from the beginning to the end. `And now,’ said he, `we are travelling, and do not know whether we are on the right road or not.’`Ah! my brave fellows,’ says the Black Thief, `you little know the danger you run. I am after that steed myself these seven years, and can never steal him on account of a silk covering he has on him in the stable, with sixty bells fixed to it, and whenever you approach the place he quickly observes it and shakes himself; which, by the sound of the bells, not only alarms the prince and his guards, but the whole country round, so that it is impossible ever to get him, and those that are so unfortunate as to be taken by the Knight of the Glen are boiled in a red-hot fiery furnace.’`Bless me,’ says the young prince, `what will we do? If we return without the steed we will lose our heads, so I see we are ill fixed on both sides.’`Well,’ says the Thief of Sloan, `if it were my case I would rather die by the Knight than by the wicked Queen; besides, I will go with you myself and show you the road, and whatever fortune you will have, I will take chance of the same.’They returned him sincere thanks for his kindness, and he, being well acquainted with the road, in a short time brought them within view of the knight’s castle.`Now,’ says he, `we must stay here till night comes; for I know all the ways of the place, and if there be any chance for it, it is when they are all at rest; for the steed is all the watch the knight keeps there.’Accordingly, in the dead hour of the night, the King’s three sons and the Thief of Sloan attempted the Steed of Bells in order to carry him away, but before they could reach the stables the steed neighed most terribly and shook himself so, and the bells rung with such noise, that the knight and all his men were up in a moment.The Black Thief and the King’s sons thought to make their escape, but they were suddenly surrounded by the knight’s guards and taken prisoners; where they were brought into that dismal part of the palace where the knight kept a furnace always boiling, in which he threw all offenders that ever came in his way, which in a few moments would entirely consume them.`Audacious villains!’ says the Knight of the Glen, `how dare you attempt so bold an action as to steal my steed? See, now, the reward of your folly; for your greater punishment I will not boil you all together, but one after the other, so that he that survives may witness the dire afflictions of his unfortunate companions.’So saying he ordered his servants to stir up the fire: `We will boil the eldest-looking of these young men first,’ said he, `and so on to the last, which will be this old champion with the black cap. He seems to be the captain, and looks as if he had come through many toils.’`I was as near death once as the prince is yet,’ says the Black Thief, `and escaped; and so will he too.’`No, you never were,’ said the knight; `for he is within two or three minutes of his latter end.’`But,’ says the Black Thief, `I was within one moment of my death, and I am here yet.’`How was that?’ says the knight; `I would be glad to hear it, for it seems impossible.’`If you think, sir knight,’ says the Black Thief, `that the danger I was in surpasses that of this young man, will you pardon him his crime?’`I will,’ says the knight, `so go on with your story.’`I was, sir,’ says he, `a very wild boy in my youth, and came through many distresses; once in particular, as I was on my rambling, I was benighted and could find no lodging. At length I came to an old kiln, and being much fatigued I went up and lay on the ribs. I had not been long there when I saw three witches coming in with three bags of gold. Each put their bags of gold under their heads, as if to sleep. I heard one of them say to the other that if the Black Thief came on them while they slept, he would not leave them a penny. I found by their discourse that everybody had got my name into their mouth, though I kept silent as death during their discourse. At length they fell fast asleep, and then I stole softly down, and seeing some turf convenient, I placed one under each of their heads, and off I went, with their gold, as fast as I could.`I had not gone far,’ continued the Thief of Sloan, `until I saw a grey- hound, a hare, and a hawk in pursuit of me, and began to think it must be the witches that had taken the shapes in order that I might not escape them unseen either by land or water. Seeing they did not appear in any formidable shape, I was more than once resolved to attack them, thinking that with my broad sword I could easily destroy them. But considering again that it was perhaps still in their power to become alive again, I gave over the attempt and climbed with difficulty up a tree, bringing my sword in my hand and all the gold along with me. However, when they came to the tree they found what I had done, and making further use of their hellish art, one of them was changed into a smith’s anvil and another into a piece of iron, of which the third soon made a hatchet. Having the hatchet made, she fell to cutting down the tree, and in the course of an hour it began to shake with me. At length it began to bend, and I found that one or two blows at the most would put it down. I then began to think that my death was inevitable, considering that those who were capable of doing so much would soon end my life; but just as she had the stroke drawn that would terminate my fate, the cock crew, and the witches disappeared, having resumed their natural shapes for fear of being known, and I got safe off with my bags of gold.`Now, sir,’ says he to the Knight of the Glen, `if that be not as great an adventure as ever you heard, to be within one blow of a hatchet of my end, and that blow even drawn, and after all to escape, I leave it to yourself.’`Well, I cannot say but it is very extraordinary,’ says the Knight of the Glen, `and on that account pardon this young man his crime; so stir up the fire, till I boil this second one.’`Indeed,’ says the Black Thief, `I would fain think he would not die this time either.’`How so?’ says the knight; `it is impossible for him to escape.’`I escaped death more wonderfully myself,’ says the Thief of Sloan, `than if you had him ready to throw into the furnace, and I hope it will be the case with him likewise.’`Why, have you been in another great danger?’ says the knight. `I would be glad to hear the story too, and if it be as wonderful as the last, I will pardon this young man as I did the other.’`My way of living, sir,’ says the Black Thief, `was not good, as I told you before; and being at a certain time fairly run out of cash, and meeting with no enterprise worthy of notice, I was reduced to great straits. At length a rich bishop died in the neighbourhood I was then in, and I heard he was interred with a great deal of jewels and rich robes upon him, all which I intended in a short time to be master of. Accordingly that very night I set about it, and coming to the place, I understood he was placed at the further end of a long dark vault, which I slowly entered. I had not gone in far until I heard a foot coming towards me with a quick pace, and although naturally bold and daring, yet, thinking of the deceased bishop and the crime I was engaged in, I lost courage, and ran towards the entrance of the vault. I had retreated but a few paces when I observed, between me and the light, the figure of a tall black man standing in the entrance. Being in great fear and not knowing how to pass, I fired a pistol at him, and he immediately fell across the entrance. Perceiving he still retained the figure of a mortal man, I began to imagine that it could not be the bishop’s ghost; recovering myself therefore from the fear I was in, I ventured to the upper end of the vault, where I found a large bundle, and upon further examination I found that the corpse was already rifled, and that which I had taken to be a ghost was no more than one of his own clergy. I was then very sorry that I had the misfortune to kill him, but it then could not be helped. I took up the bundle that contained everything belonging to the corpse that was valuable, intending to take my departure from this melancholy abode; but just as I came to the mouth of the entrance I saw the guards of the place coming towards me, and distinctly heard them saying that they would look in the vault, for that the Black Thief would think little of robbing the corpse if he was anywhere in the place. I did not then know in what manner to act, for if I was seen I would surely lose my life, as everybody had a look-out at that time, and because there was no person bold enough to come in on me. I knew very well on the first sight of me that could be got, I would be shot like a dog. However, I had not time to lose. I took and raised up the man which I had killed, as if he was standing on his feet, and I, crouching behind him, bore him up as well as I could, so that the guards readily saw him as they came up to the vault. Seeing the man in black, one of the men cried that was the Black Thief, and, presenting his piece, fired at the man, at which I let him fall, and crept into a little dark corner myself, that was at the entrance of the place. When they saw the man fall, they ran all into the vault, and never stopped until they were at the end of it, for fear, as I thought, that there might be some others along with him that was killed. But while they were busy inspecting the corpse and the vault to see what they could miss, I slipped out, and, once away, and still away; but they never had the Black Thief in their power since.’`Well, my brave fellow,’ says the Knight of the Glen, `I see you have come through many dangers: you have freed these two princes by your stories; but I am sorry myself that this young prince has to suffer for all. Now, if you could tell me something as wonderful as you have told already, I would pardon him likewise; I pity this youth and do not want to put him to death if I could help it.’`That happens well,’ says the Thief of Sloan, `for I like him best myself, and have reserved the most curious passage for the last on his account.’`Well, then,’ says the knight, `let us hear it.’`I was one day on my travels,’ says the Black Thief, `and I came into a large forest, where I wandered a long time, and could not get out of it. At length I came to a large castle, and fatigue obliged me to call in the same, where I found a young woman and a child sitting on her knee, and she crying. I asked her what made her cry, and where the lord of the castle was, for I wondered greatly that I saw no stir of servants or any person about the place.` “It is well for you,” says the young woman, “that the lord of this castle is not at home at present; for he is a monstrous giant, with but one eye on his forehead, who lives on human flesh. He brought me this child,” says she, “I do not know where he got it, and ordered me to make it into a pie, and I cannot help crying at the command.”`I told her that if she knew of any place convenient that I could leave the child safely I would do it, rather than it should be killed by such a monster.`She told me of a house a distance off where I would get a woman who would take care of it. “But what will I do in regard of the pie?”` “Cut a finger off it,” said I, “and I will bring you in a young wild pig out of the forest, which you may dress as if it was the child, and put the finger in a certain place, that if the giant doubts anything about it you may know where to turn it over at the first, and when he sees it he will be fully satisfied that the pie is made of the child.”`She agreed to the scheme I proposed, and, cutting off the child’s finger, by her direction I soon had it at the house she told me of, and brought her the little pig in the place of it. She then made ready the pie, and after eating and drinking heartily myself, I was just taking my leave of the young woman when we observed the giant coming through the castle gates.` “Bless me,” said she, “what will you do now? Run away and lie down among the dead bodies that he has in the room (showing me the place), and strip off your clothes that he may not know you from the rest if he has occasion to go that way.”`I took her advice, and laid myself down among the rest, as if dead, to see how he would behave. The first thing I heard was him calling for his pie. When she set it down before him he swore it smelled like swine’s flesh, but knowing where to find the finger, she immediately turned it up, which fairly convinced him of the contrary. The pie only served to sharpen his appetite, and I heard him sharpening his knife and saying he must have a collop or two, for he was not near satisfied. But what was my terror when I heard the giant groping among the bodies, and, fancying myself, cut the half of my hip off, and took it with him to be roasted. You may be certain I was in great pain, but the fear of being killed prevented me from making any complaint. However, when he had eaten all he began to drink hot liquors in great abundance, so that in a short time he could not hold up his head, but threw himself on a large creel he had made for the purpose, and fell fast asleep. When I heard him snoring, as I was I went up and caused the woman to bind my wound with a handkerchief; and, taking the giant’s spit, reddened it in the fire, and ran it through the eye, but was not able to kill him.`However, I left the spit sticking in his head, and took to my heels; but I soon found he was in pursuit of me, although blind; and having an enchanted ring he threw it at me, and it fell on my big toe and remained fastened to it.`The giant then called to the ring, where it was, and to my great surprise it made him answer on my foot; and he, guided by the same, made a leap at me which I had the good luck to observe, and fortunately escaped the danger. However, I found running was of no use in saving me, as long as I had the ring on my foot; so I took my sword and cut off the toe it was fastened on, and threw both into a large fish-pond that was convenient. The giant called again to the ring, which by the power of enchantment always made him answer; but he, not knowing what I had done, imagined it was still on some part of me, and made a violent leap to seize me, when he went into the pond, over head and ears, and was drowned. Now, sir knight,’ says the Thief of Sloan, `you see what dangers I came through and always escaped; but, indeed, I am lame for the want of my toe ever since.’`My lord and master,’ says an old woman that was listening all the time, `that story is but too true, as I well know, for I am the very woman that was in the giant’s castle, and you, my lord, the child that I was to make into a pie; and this is the very man that saved your life, which you may know by the want of your finger that was taken off, as you have heard, to deceive the giant.’The Knight of the Glen, greatly surprised at what he had heard the old woman tell, and knowing he wanted his finger from his childhood, began to understand that the story was true enough.`And is this my deliverer?’ says he. `O brave fellow, I not only pardon you all, but will keep you with myself while you live, where you shall feast like princes, and have every attendance that I have myself.’They all returned thanks on their knees, and the Black Thief told him the reason they attempted to steal the Steed of Bells, and the necessity they were under in going home.`Well,’ says the Knight of the Glen, `if that’s the case I bestow you my steed rather than this brave fellow should die; so you may go when you please, only remember to call and see me betimes, that we may know each other well.’They promised they would, and with great joy they set off for the King their father’s palace, and the Black Thief along with them.The wicked Queen was standing all this time on the tower, and, hearing the bells ringing at a great distance off, knew very well it was the princes coming home, and the steed with them, and through spite and vexation precipitated herself from the tower and was shattered to pieces.The three princes lived happy and well during their father’s reign, and always keeping the Black Thief along with them; but how they did after the old King’s death is not known.
There was a sultan, who had three sons and a niece. The eldest of the Princes was called Houssain, the second Ali, the youngest Ahmed, and the Princess, his niece, Nouronnihar.The Princess Nouronnihar was the daughter of the younger brother of the Sultan, who died, and left the Princess very young. The Sultan took upon himself the care of his daughter’s education, and brought her up in his palace with the three Princes, proposing to marry her when she arrived at a proper age, and to contract an alliance with some neighboring prince by that means. But when he perceived that the three Princes, his sons, loved her passionately, he thought more seriously on that affair. He was very much concerned; the difficulty he foresaw was to make them agree, and that the two youngest should consent to yield her up to their elder brother. As he found them positively obstinate, he sent for them all together, and said to them: “Children, since for your good and quiet I have not been able to persuade you no longer to aspire to the Princess, your cousin, I think it would not be amiss if every one traveled separately into different countries, so that you might not meet each other. And, as you know I am very curious, and delight in everything that’s singular, I promise my niece in marriage to him that shall bring me the most extraordinary rarity; and for the purchase of the rarity you shall go in search after, and the expense of traveling, I will give you every one a sum of money.”As the three Princes were always submissive and obedient to the Sultan’s will, and each flattered himself fortune might prove favorable to him, they all consented to it. The Sultan paid them the money he promised them; and that very day they gave orders for the preparations for their travels, and took their leave of the Sultan, that they might be the more ready to go the next morning. Accordingly they all set out at the same gate of the city, each dressed like a merchant, attended by an officer of confidence dressed like a slave, and all well mounted and equipped. They went the first day’s journey together, and lay all at an inn, where the road was divided into three different tracts. At night, when they were at supper together, they all agreed to travel for a year, and to meet at that inn; and that the first that came should wait for the rest; that, as they had all three taken their leave together of the Sultan, they might all return together. The next morning by break of day, after they had embraced and wished each other good success, they mounted their horses and took each a different road.Prince Houssain, the eldest brother, arrived at Bisnagar, the capital of the kingdom of that name, and the residence of its king. He went and lodged at a khan appointed for foreign merchants; and, having learned that there were four principal divisions where merchants of all sorts sold their commodities, and kept shops, and in the midst of which stood the castle, or rather the King’s palace, he went to one of these divisions the next day.Prince Houssain could not view this division without admiration. It was large, and divided into several streets, all vaulted and shaded from the sun, and yet very light too. The shops were all of a size, and all that dealt in the same sort of goods lived in one street; as also the handicrafts-men, who kept their shops in the smaller streets.The multitude of shops, stocked with all sorts of merchandise, as the finest linens from several parts of India, some painted in the most lively colors, and representing beasts, trees, and flowers; silks and brocades from Persia, China, and other places, porcelain both from Japan and China, and tapestries, surprised him so much that he knew not how to believe his own eyes; but when he came to the goldsmiths and jewelers he was in a kind of ecstacy to behold such prodigious quantities of wrought gold and silver, and was dazzled by the lustre of the pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other jewels exposed to sale.Another thing Prince Houssain particularly admired was the great number of rose-sellers who crowded the streets; for the Indians are so great lovers of that flower that no one will stir without a nosegay in his hand or a garland on his head; and the merchants keep them in pots in their shops, that the air is perfectly perfumed.After Prince Houssain had run through that division, street by street, his thoughts fully employed on the riches he had seen, he was very much tired, which a merchant perceiving, civilly invited him to sit down in his shop, and he accepted; but had not been sat down long before he saw a crier pass by with a piece of tapestry on his arm, about six feet square, and cried at thirty purses. The Prince called to the crier, and asked to see the tapestry, which seemed to him to be valued at an exorbitant price, not only for the size of it, but the meanness of the stuff; when he had examined it well, he told the crier that he could not comprehend how so small a piece of tapestry, and of so indifferent appearance, could be set at so high a priceThe crier, who took him for a merchant, replied: “If this price seems so extravagant to you, your amazement will be greater when I tell you I have orders to raise it to forty purses, and not to part with it under.” “Certainly,” answered Prince Houssain, “it must have something very extraordinary in it, which I know nothing of.” “You have guessed it, sir,” replied the crier, “and will own it when you come to know that whoever sits on this piece of tapestry may be transported in an instant wherever he desires to be, without being stopped by any obstacle.”At this discourse of the crier the Prince of the Indies, considering that the principal motive of his travel was to carry the Sultan, his father, home some singular rarity, thought that he could not meet with any which could give him more satisfaction. “If the tapestry,” said he to the crier, “has the virtue you assign it, I shall not think forty purses too much, but shall make you a present besides.” “Sir,” replied the crier, “I have told you the truth; and it is an easy matter to convince you of it, as soon as you have made the bargain for forty purses, on condition I show you the experiment. But, as I suppose you have not so much about you, and to receive them I must go with you to your khan, where you lodge, with the leave of the master of the shop, we will go into the back shop, and I will spread the tapestry; and when we have both sat down, and you have formed the wish to be transported into your apartment of the khan, if we are not transported thither it shall be no bargain, and you shall be at your liberty. As to your present, though I am paid for my trouble by the seller, I shall receive it as a favor, and be very much obliged to you, and thankful.”On the credit of the crier, the Prince accepted the conditions, and concluded the bargain; and, having got the master’s leave, they went into his back shop; they both sat down on it, and as soon as the Prince formed his wish to be transported into his apartment at the khan he presently found himself and the crier there; and, as he wanted not a more sufficient proof of the virtue of the tapestry, he counted the crier out forty pieces of gold, and gave him twenty pieces for himself.In this manner Prince Houssain became the possessor of the tapestry, and was overjoyed that at his arrival at Bisnagar he had found so rare a piece, which he never disputed would gain him the hand of Nouronnihar. In short, he looked upon it as an impossible thing for the Princes his younger brothers to meet with anything to be compared with it. It was in his power, by sitting on his tapestry, to be at the place of meeting that very day; but, as he was obliged to stay there for his brothers, as they had agreed, and as he was curious to see the King of Bisnagar and his Court, and to inform himself of the strength, laws, customs, and religion of the kingdom, he chose to make a longer abode there, and to spend some months in satisfying his curiosity.Prince Houssain might have made a longer abode in the kingdom and Court of Bisnagar, but he was so eager to be nearer the Princess that, spreading the tapestry, he and the officer he had brought with him sat down, and as soon as he had formed his wish were transported to the inn at which he and his brothers were to meet, and where he passed for a merchant till they came.Prince Ali, Prince Houssain’s second brother, who designed to travel into Persia, took the road, having three days after he parted with his brothers joined a caravan, and after four days’ travel arrived at Schiraz, which was the capital of the kingdom of Persia. Here he passed for a jeweler.The next morning Prince Ali, who traveled only for his pleasure, and had brought nothing but just necessaries along with him, after he had dressed himself, took a walk into that part of the town which they at Schiraz called the bezestein.Among all the criers who passed backward and forward with several sorts of goods, offering to sell them, he was not a little surprised to see one who held an ivory telescope in his hand of about a foot in length and the thickness of a man’s thumb, and cried it at thirty purses. At first he thought the crier mad, and to inform himself went to a shop, and said to the merchant, who stood at the door: “Pray, sir, is not that man” (pointing to the crier who cried the ivory perspective glass at thirty purses) “mad? If he is not, I am very much deceived.”Indeed, sir,” answered the merchant, “he was in his right senses yesterday; I can assure you he is one of the ablest criers we have, and the most employed of any when anything valuable is to be sold. And if he cries the ivory perspective glass at thirty purses it must be worth as much or more, on some account or other. He will come by presently, and we will call him, and you shall be satisfied; in the meantime sit down on my sofa, and rest yourself.”Prince Ali accepted the merchant’s obliging offer, and presently afterward the crier passed by. The merchant called him by his name, and, pointing to the Prince, said to him: “Tell that gentleman, who asked me if you were in your right senses, what you mean by crying that ivory perspective glass, which seems not to be worth much, at thirty purses. I should be very much amazed myself if I did not know you.” The crier, addressing himself to Prince Ali, said: “Sir, you are not the only person that takes me for a madman on account of this perspective glass. You shall judge yourself whether I am or no, when I have told you its property and I hope you will value it at as high a price as those I have showed it to already, who had as bad an opinion of me as you.“First, sir,” pursued the crier, presenting the ivory pipe to the Prince, “observe that this pipe is furnished with a glass at both ends; and consider that by looking through one of them you see whatever object you wish to behold.” “I am,” said the Prince, “ready to make you all imaginable reparation for the scandal I have thrown on you if you will make the truth of what you advance appear,” and as he had the ivory pipe in his hand, after he had looked at the two glasses he said: “Show me at which of these ends I must look that I may be satisfied.” The crier presently showed him, and he looked through, wishing at the same time to see the Sultan his father, whom he immediately beheld in perfect health, set on his throne, in the midst of his council. Afterward, as there was nothing in the world so dear to him, after the Sultan, as the Princess Nouronnihar, he wished to see her; and saw her at her toilet laughing, and in a pleasant humor, with her women about her.Prince Ali wanted no other proof to be persuaded that this perspective glass was the most valuable thing in the world, and believed that if he should neglect to purchase it he should never meet again with such another rarity. He therefore took the crier with him to the khan where he lodged, and counted him out the money, and received the perspective glass.Prince Ali was overjoyed at his bargain, and persuaded himself that, as his brothers would not be able to meet with anything so rare and admirable, the Princess Nouronnihar would be the recompense of his fatigue and trouble; that he thought of nothing but visiting the Court of Persia incognito, and seeing whatever was curious in Schiraz and thereabouts, till the caravan with which he came returned back to the Indies. As soon as the caravan was ready to set out, the Prince joined them, and arrived happily without any accident or trouble, otherwise than the length of the journey and fatigue of traveling, at the place of rendezvous, where he found Prince Houssain, and both waited for Prince Ahmed.Prince Ahmed, who took the road of Samarcand, the next day after his arrival there went, as his brothers had done, into the bezestein, where he had not walked long but heard a crier, who had an artificial apple in his hand, cry it at five and thirty purses; upon which he stopped the crier, and said to him: “Let me see that apple, and tell me what virtue and extraordinary properties it has, to be valued at so high a rate.” “Sir,” said the crier, giving it into his hand, “if you look at the outside of this apple, it is very worthless, but if you consider its properties, virtues, and the great use and benefit it is to mankind, you will say it is no price for it, and that he who possesses it is master of a great treasure. In short, it cures all sick persons of the most mortal diseases; and if the patient is dying it will recover him immediately and restore him to perfect health; and this is done after the easiest manner in the world, which is by the patient’s smelling the apple.”“If I may believe you,” replied Prince Ahmed, “the virtues of this apple are wonderful, and it is invaluable; but what ground have I, for all you tell me, to be persuaded of the truth of this matter?” “Sir,” replied the crier, “the thing is known and averred by the whole city of Samarcand; but, without going any further, ask all these merchants you see here, and hear what they say. You will find several of them will tell you they had not been alive this day if they had not made use of this excellent remedy. And, that you may better comprehend what it is, I must tell you it is the fruit of the study and experiments of a celebrated philosopher of this city, who applied himself all his lifetime to the study and knowledge of the virtues of plants and minerals, and at last attained to this composition, by which he performed such surprising cures in this town as will never be forgot, but died suddenly himself, before he could apply his sovereign remedy, and left his wife and a great many young children behind him, in very indifferent circumstances, who, to support her family and provide for her children, is resolved to sell it.”While the crier informed Prince Ahmed of the virtues of the artificial apple, a great many persons came about them and confirmed what he said; and one among the rest said he had a friend dangerously ill, whose life was despaired of; and that was a favorable opportunity to show Prince Ahmed the experiment. Upon which Prince Ahmed told the crier he would give him forty purses if he cured the sick person.The crier, who had orders to sell it at that price, said to Prince Ahmed: “Come, sir, let us go and make the experiment, and the apple shall be yours; and I can assure you that it will always have the desired effect.” In short, the experiment succeeded, and the Prince, after he had counted out to the crier forty purses, and he had delivered the apple to him, waited patiently for the first caravan that should return to the Indies, and arrived in perfect health at the inn where the Princes Houssain and Ali waited for him.When the Princes met they showed each other their treasures, and immediately saw through the glass that the Princess was dying. They then sat down on the carpet, wished themselves with her, and were there in a moment.Prince Ahmed no sooner perceived himself in Nouronnihar’s chamber than he rose off the tapestry, as did also the other two Princes, and went to the bedside, and put the apple under her nose; some moments after the Princess opened her eyes, and turned her head from one side to another, looking at the persons who stood about her; and then rose up in the bed, and asked to be dressed, just as if she had waked out of a sound sleep. Her women having presently informed her, in a manner that showed their joy, that she was obliged to the three Princes for the sudden recovery of her health, and particularly to Prince Ahmed, she immediately expressed her joy to see them, and thanked them all together, and afterward Prince Ahmed in particular.While the Princess was dressing the Princes went to throw themselves at the Sultan their father’s feet, and pay their respects to him. But when they came before him they found he had been informed of their arrival by the chief of the Princess’s eunuchs, and by what means the Princess had been perfectly cured. The Sultan received and embraced them with the greatest joy, both for their return and the recovery of the Princess his niece, whom he loved as well as if she had been his own daughter, and who had been given over by the physicians. After the usual ceremonies and compli- ments the Princes presented each his rarity: Prince Houssain his tapestry, which he had taken care not to leave behind him in the Princess’s chamber; Prince Ali his ivory perspective glass, and Prince Ahmed his artificial apple; and after each had commended their present, when they put it into the Sultan’s hands, they begged of him to pronounce their fate, and declare to which of them he would give the Princess Nouronnihar for a wife, according to his promise.The Sultan of the Indies, having heard, without interrupting them, all that the Princes could represent further about their rarities, and being well informed of what had happened in relation to the Princess Nouronnihar’s cure, remained some time silent, as if he were thinking on what answer he should make. At last he broke the silence, and said to them: “I would declare for one of you children with a great deal of pleasure if I could do it with justice; but consider whether I can do it or no. ‘Tis true, Prince Ahmed, the Princess my niece is obliged to your artificial apple for her cure; but I must ask you whether or no you could have been so serviceable to her if you had not known by Prince Ali’s perspective glass the danger she was in, and if Prince Houssain’s tapestry had not brought you so soon. Your perspective glass, Prince Ali, informed you and your brothers that you were like to lose the Princess your cousin, and there you must own a great obligation.“You must also grant that that knowledge would have been of no service without the artificial apple and the tapestry. And lastly, Prince Houssain, the Princess would be very ungrateful if she should not show her acknowledgment of the service of your tapestry, which was so necessary a means toward her cure. But consider, it would have been of little use if you had not been acquainted with the Princess’s illness by Prince Ali’s glass, and Prince Ahmed had not applied his artificial apple. Therefore, as neither tapestry, ivory perspective glass, nor artificial apple have the least preference one before the other, but, on the contrary, there’s a perfect equality, I cannot grant the Princess to ally one of you; and the only fruit you have reaped from your travels is the glory of having equally contributed to restore her health.“If all this be true,” added the Sultan, “you see that I must have recourse to other means to determine certainly in the choice I ought to make among you; and that, as there is time enough between this and night, I’ll do it today. Go and get each of you a bow and arrow, and repair to the great plain, where they exercise horses. I’ll soon come to you, and declare I will give the Princess Nouronnihar to him that shoots the farthest.”The three Princes had nothing to say against the decision of the Sultan. When they were out of his presence they each provided themselves with a bow and arrow, which they delivered to one of their officers, and went to the plain appointed, followed by a great concourse of people.The Sultan did not make them wait long for him, and as soon as he arrived Prince Houssain, as the eldest, took his bow and arrow and shot first; Prince Ali shot next, and much beyond him; and Prince Ahmed last of all, but it so happened that nobody could see where his arrow fell; and, notwithstanding all the diligence that was used by himself and everybody else, it was not to be found far or near. And though it was believed that he shot the farthest, and that he therefore deserved the Princess Nouronnihar, it was, however, necessary that his arrow should be found to make the matter more evident and certain; and, notwithstanding his remonstrance, the Sultan judged in favor of Prince Ali, and gave orders for preparations to be made for the wedding, which was celebrated a few days after with great magnificence.Prince Houssain would not honor the feast with his presence. In short, his grief was so violent and insupportable that he left the Court, and renounced all right of succession to the crown, to turn hermit.Prince Ahmed, too, did not come to Prince Ali’s and the Princess Nouronnihar’s wedding any more than his brother Houssain, but did not renounce the world as he had done. But, as he could not imagine what had become of his arrow, he stole away from his attendants and resolved to search after it, that he might not have anything to reproach himself with. With this intent he went to the place where the Princes Houssain’s and Ali’s were gathered up, and, going straight forward from there, looking carefully on both sides of him, he went so far that at last he began to think his labor was all in vain; but yet he could not help going forward till he came to some steep craggy rocks, which were bounds to his journey, and were situated in a barren country, about four leagues distant from where he set out.When Prince Ahmed came pretty nigh to these rocks he perceived an arrow, which he gathered up, looked earnestly at it, and was in the greatest astonishment to find it was the same he shot away. “Certainly,” said he to himself, “neither I nor any man living could shoot an arrow so far,” and, finding it laid flat, not sticking into the ground, he judged that it rebounded against the rock. “There must be some mystery in this,” said he to himself again, “and it may be advantageous to me. Perhaps fortune, to make me amends for depriving me of what I thought the greatest happiness, may have reserved a greater blessing for my comfort.”As these rocks were full of caves and some of those caves were deep, the Prince entered into one, and, looking about, cast his eyes on an iron door, which seemed to have no lock, but he feared it was fastened. However, thrusting against it, it opened, and discovered an easy descent, but no steps, which he walked down with his arrow in his hand. At first he thought he was going into a dark, obscure place, but presently a quite different light succeeded that which he came out of, and, entering into a large, spacious place, at about fifty or sixty paces distant, he perceived a magnificent palace, which he had not then time enough to look at. At the same time a lady of majestic port and air advanced as far as the porch, attended by a large troop of ladies, so finely dressed and beautiful that it was difficult to distinguish which was the mistress.As soon as Prince Ahmed perceived the lady, he made all imaginable haste to go and pay his respects; and the lady, on her part, seeing him coming, prevented him from addressing his discourse to her first, but said to him: “Come nearer, Prince Ahmed, you are welcome.”It was no small surprise to the Prince to hear himself named in a place he had never heard of, though so nigh to his father’s capital, and he could not comprehend how he should be known to a lady who was a stranger to him. At last he returned the lady’s compliment by throwing himself at her feet, and, rising up again, said to her:“Madam, I return you a thousand thanks for the assurance you give me of a welcome to a place where I believed my imprudent curiosity had made me penetrate too far. But, madam, may I, without being guilty of ill manners, dare to ask you by what adventure you know me? and how you, who live in the same neighborhood with me, should be so great a stranger to me?”“Prince,” said the lady, “let us go into the hall, there I will gratify you in your request.”After these words the lady led Prince Ahmed into the hall. Then she sat down on a sofa, and when the Prince by her entreaty had done the same she said: “You are surprised, you say, that I should know you and not be known by you, but you will be no longer surprised when I inform you who I am. You are undoubtedly sensible that your religion teaches you to believe that the world is inhabited by genies as well as men. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful and distinguished genies, and my name is Paribanou. The only thing that I have to add is, that you seemed to me worthy of a more happy fate than that of possessing the Princess Nouronnihar; and, that you might attain to it, I was present when you drew your arrow, and foresaw it would not go beyond Prince Houssain’s. I took it in the air, and gave it the necessary motion to strike against the rocks near which you found it, and I tell you that it lies in your power to make use of the favorable opportunity which presents itself to make you happy.”As the Fairy Paribanou pronounced these last words with a different tone, and looked, at the same time, tenderly upon Prince Ahmed, with a modest blush on her cheeks, it was no hard matter for the Prince to comprehend what happiness she meant. He presently considered that the Princess Nouronnihar could never be his and that the Fairy Paribanou excelled her infinitely in beauty, agreeableness, wit, and, as much as he could conjecture by the magnificence of the palace, in immense riches. He blessed the moment that he thought of seeking after his arrow a second time, and, yielding to his love, “Madam,” replied he, “should I all my life have the happiness of being your slave, and the admirer of the many charms which ravish my soul, I should think myself the most blessed of men. Pardon in me the boldness which inspires me to ask this favor, and don’t refuse to admit me into your Court, a prince who is entirely devoted to you.”“Prince,” answered the Fairy, “will you not pledge your faith to me, as well as I give mine to you?” “Yes, madam, replied the Prince, in an ecstacy of joy; “what can I do better, and with greater pleasure? Yes, my sultaness, my queen, I’ll give you my heart without the least reserve.” “Then,” answered the Fairy, “you are my husband, and I am your wife. But, as I suppose,” pursued she, “that you have eaten nothing today, a slight repast shall be served up for you, while preparations are making for our wedding feast at night, and then I will show you the apartments of my palace, and you shall judge if this hall is not the meanest part of it.”Some of the Fairy’s women, who came into the hall with them, and guessed her intentions, went immediately out, and returned presently with some excellent meats and wines.When Prince Ahmed had ate and drunk as much as he cared for, the Fairy Paribanou carried him through all the apartments, where he saw diamonds, rubies, emeralds and all sorts of fine jewels, intermixed with pearls, agate, jasper, porphyry, and all sorts of the most precious marbles. But, not to mention the richness of the furniture, which was inestimable, there was such a profuseness throughout that the Prince, instead of ever having seen anything like it, owned that he could not have imagined that there was anything in the world that could come up to it. “Prince,” said the Fairy, “if you admire my palace so much, which, indeed, is very beautiful, what would you say to the palaces of the chief of our genies, which are much more beautiful, spacious, and magnificent? I could also charm you with my gardens, but we will let that alone till another time. Night draws near, and it will be time to go to supper.”The next hall which the Fairy led the Prince into, and where the cloth was laid for the feast, was the last apartment the Prince had not seen, and not in the least inferior to the others. At his entrance into it he admired the infinite number of sconces of wax candles perfumed with amber, the multitude of which, instead of being confused, were placed with so just a symmetry as formed an agreeable and pleasant sight. A large side table was set out with all sorts of gold plate, so finely wrought that the workmanship was much more valuable than the weight of the gold. Several choruses of beautiful women richly dressed, and whose voices were ravishing, began a concert, accompanied with all sorts of the most harmonious instruments; and when they were set down at table the Fairy Paribanou took care to help Prince Ahmed to the most delicate meats, which she named as she invited him to eat of them, and which the Prince found to be so exquisitely nice that he commended them with exaggeration, and said that the entertainment far surpassed those of man. He found also the same excellence in the wines, which neither he nor the Fairy tasted of till the dessert was served up, which consisted of the choicest sweet- meats and fruits.The wedding feast was continued the next day, or, rather, the days following the celebration were a continual feast.At the end of six months Prince Ahmed, who always loved and honored the Sultan his father, conceived a great desire to know how he was, and that desire could not be satisfied without his going to see; he told the Fairy of it, and desired she would give him leave.“Prince,” said she, “go when you please. But first, don’t take it amiss that I give you some advice how you shall behave yourself where you are going. First, I don’t think it proper for you to tell the Sultan your father of our marriage, nor of my quality, nor the place where you have been. Beg of him to be satisfied in knowing you are happy, and desire no more; and let him know that the sole end of your visit is to make him easy, and inform him of your fate.”She appointed twenty gentlemen, well mounted and equipped, to attend him. When all was ready Prince Ahmed took his leave of the Fairy, embraced her, and renewed his promise to return soon. Then his horse, which was most finely caparisoned, and was as beautiful a creature as any in the Sultan of Indies’ stables, was led to him, and he mounted him with an extraordinary grace; and, after he had bid her a last adieu, set forward on his journey.As it was not a great way to his father’s capital, Prince Ahmed soon arrived there. The people, glad to see him again, received him with acclamations of joy, and followed him in crowds to the Sultan’s apartment. The Sultan received and embraced him with great joy, complaining at the same time, with a fatherly tenderness, of the affliction his long absence had been to him, which he said was the more grievous for that, fortune having decided in favor of Prince Ali his brother, he was afraid he might have committed some rash action.The Prince told a story of his adventures without speaking of the Fairy, whom he said that he must not mention, and ended: “The only favor I ask of your Majesty is to give me leave to come often and pay you my respects, and to know how you do.”“Son,” answered the Sultan of the Indies, “I cannot refuse you the leave you ask me; but I should much rather you would resolve to stay with me; at least tell me where I may send to you if you should fail to come, or when I may think your presence necessary.” “Sir,” replied Prince Ahmed, “what your Majesty asks of me is part of the mystery I spoke to your Majesty of. I beg of you to give me leave to remain silent on this head, for I shall come so frequently that I am afraid that I shall sooner be thought troublesome than be accused of negligence in my duty.”The Sultan of the Indies pressed Prince Ahmed no more, but said to him: “Son, I penetrate no farther into your secrets, but leave you at your liberty; but can tell you that you could not do me a greater pleasure than to come, and by your presence restore to me the joy I have not felt this long time, and that you shall always be welcome when you come, without interrupting your business or pleasure.”Prince Ahmed stayed but three days at the Sultan his father’s Court, and the fourth returned to the Fairy Paribanou, who did not expect him so soon.A month after Prince Ahmed’s return from paying a visit to his father, as the Fairy Paribanou had observed that the Prince, since the time that he gave her an account of his journey, his discourse with his father, and the leave he asked to go and see him often, had never talked of the Sultan, as if there had been no such person in the world, whereas before he was always speaking of him, she thought he forebore on her account; therefore she took an opportunity to say to him one day: “Prince, tell me, have you forgot the Sultan your father? Don’t you remember the promise you made to go and see him often? For my part I have not forgot what you told me at your return, and so put you in mind of it, that you may not be long before you acquit yourself of your promise.”So Prince Ahmed went the next morning with the same attendance as before, but much finer, and himself more magnificently mounted, equipped, and dressed, and was received by the Sultan with the same joy and satisfaction. For several months he constantly paid his visits, always in a richer and finer equipage.At last some viziers, the Sultan’s favorites, who judged of Prince Ahmed’s grandeur and power by the figure he cut, made the Sultan jealous of his son, saying it was to be feared he might inveigle himself into the people’s favor and dethrone him.The Sultan of the Indies was so far from thinking that Prince Ahmed could be capable of so pernicious a design as his favorites would make him believe that he said to them: “You are mistaken; my son loves me, and I am certain of his tenderness and fidelity, as I have given him no reason to be disgusted.”But the favorites went on abusing Prince Ahmed till the Sultan said: “Be it as it will, I don’t believe my son Ahmed is so wicked as you would persuade me he is; how ever, I am obliged to you for your good advice, and don’t dispute but that it proceeds from your good intentions.”The Sultan of the Indies said this that his favorites might not know the impressions their discourse had made on his mind; which had so alarmed him that he resolved to have Prince Ahmed watched unknown to his grand vizier. So he sent for a female magician, who was introduced by a back door into his apartment. “Go immediately,” he said, “and follow my son, and watch him so well as to find out where he retires, and bring me word.”The magician left the Sultan, and, knowing the place where Prince Ahmed found his arrow, went immediately thither, and hid herself near the rocks, so that nobody could see her.The next morning Prince Ahmed set out by daybreak, without taking leave either of the Sultan or any of his Court, according to custom. The magician, seeing him coming, followed him with her eyes, till on a sudden she lost sight of him and his attendants.As the rocks were very steep and craggy, they were an insurmountable barrier, so that the magician judged that there were but two things for it: either that the Prince retired into some cavern, or an abode of genies or fairies. Thereupon she came out of the place where she was hid and went directly to the hollow way, which she traced till she came to the farther end, looking carefully about on all sides; but, notwithstanding all her diligence, could perceive no opening, not so much as the iron gate which Prince Ahmed discovered, which was to be seen and opened to none but men, and only to such whose presence was agreeable to the Fairy Paribanou.The magician, who saw it was in vain for her to search any farther, was obliged to be satisfied with the discovery she had made, and returned to give the Sultan an account.The Sultan was very well pleased with the magician’s conduct, and said to her: “Do you as you think fit; I’ll wait patiently the event of your promises,” and to encourage her made her a present of a diamond of great value.As Prince Ahmed had obtained the Fairy Paribanou’s leave to go to the Sultan of the Indies’ Court once a month, he never failed, and the magician, knowing the time, went a day or two before to the foot of the rock where she lost sight of the Prince and his attendants, and waited there.The next morning Prince Ahmed went out, as usual, at the iron gate, with the same attendants as before, and passed by the magician, whom he knew not to be such, and, seeing her lie with her head against the rock, and complaining as if she were in great pain, he pitied her, turned his horse about, went to her, and asked her what was the matter with her, and what he could do to ease her.The artful sorceress looked at the Prince in a pitiful manner, without ever lifting up her head, and answered in broken words and sighs, as if she could hardly fetch her breath, that she was going to the capital city, but on the way thither she was taken with so violent a fever that her strength failed her, and she was forced to lie down where he saw her, far from any habitation, and without any hopes of assistance.“Good woman,” replied Prince Ahmed, “you are not so far from help as you imagine. I am ready to assist you, and convey you where you will meet with a speedy cure; only get up, and let one of my people take you behind him.”At these words the magician, who pretended sickness only to know where the Prince lived and what he did, refused not the charitable offer he made her, and that her actions might correspond with her words she made many pretended vain endeavors to get up. At the same time two of the Prince’s attendants, alighting off their horses, helped her up, and set her behind another, and mounted their horses again, and followed the Prince, who turned back to the iron gate, which was opened by one of his retinue who rode before. And when he came into the outward court of the Fairy, without dismounting himself, he sent to tell her he wanted to speak with her.The Fairy Paribanou came with all imaginable haste, not knowing what made Prince Ahmed return so soon, who, not giving her time to ask him the reason, said: “Princess, I desire you would have compassion on this good woman,” pointing to the magician, who was held up by two of his retinue. “I found her in the condition you see her in, and promised her the assistance she stands in need of, and am persuaded that you, out of your own goodness, as well as upon my entreaty, will not abandon her.The Fairy Paribanou, who had her eyes fixed upon the pretended sick woman all the time that the Prince was talking to her, ordered two of her women who followed her to take her from the two men that held her, and carry her into an apartment of the palace, and take as much care of her as she would herself.While the two women executed the Fairy’s commands, she went up to Prince Ahmed, and, whispering in his ear, said: “Prince, this woman is not so sick as she pretends to be; and I am very much mistaken if she is not an impostor, who will be the cause of a great trouble to you. But don’t be concerned, let what will be devised against you; be persuaded that I will deliver you out of all the snares that shall be laid for you. Go and pursue your journey.This discourse of the Fairy’s did not in the least frighten Prince Ahmed. “My Princess,” said he, “as I do not remember I ever did or designed anybody an injury, I cannot believe anybody can have a thought of doing me one, but if they have I shall not, nevertheless, forbear doing good whenever I have an opportunity.” Then he went back to his father’s palace.In the meantime the two women carried the magician into a very fine apartment, richly furnished. First they sat her down upon a sofa, with her back supported with a cushion of gold brocade, while they made a bed on the same sofa before her, the quilt of which was finely embroidered with silk, the sheets of the finest linen, and the coverlet cloth-of-gold. When they had put her into bed (for the old sorceress pretended that her fever was so violent she could not help herself in the least) one of the women went out, and returned soon again with a china dish in her hand, full of a certain liquor, which she presented to the magician, while the other helped her to sit up. “Drink this liquor,” said she; “it is the Water of the Fountain of Lions, and a sovereign remedy against all fevers whatsoever. You will find the effect of it in less than an hour’s time.”The magician, to dissemble the better, took it after a great deal of entreaty; but at last she took the china dish, and, holding back her head, swallowed down the liquor. When she was laid down again the two women covered her up. “Lie quiet,” said she who brought her the china cup, “and get a little sleep if you can. We’ll leave you, and hope to find you perfectly cured when we come again an hour hence.”The two women came again at the time they said they should, and found the magician up and dressed, and sitting upon the sofa. “Oh, admirable potion!” she said: “it has wrought its cure much sooner than you told me it would, and I shall be able to prosecute my journey.”The two women, who were fairies as well as their mistress, after they had told the magician how glad they were that she was cured so soon, walked before her, and conducted her through several apartments, all more noble than that wherein she lay, into a large hall, the most richly and magnificently furnished of all the palace.Fairy Paribanou sat in this hall on a throne of massive gold, enriched with diamonds, rubies, and pearls of an extraordinary size, and attended on each hand by a great number of beautiful fairies, all richly clothed. At the sight of so much majesty, the magician was not only dazzled, but was so amazed that, after she had prostrated herself before the throne, she could not open her lips to thank the Fairy as she proposed. However, Paribanou saved her the trouble, and said to her: “Good woman, I am glad I had an opportunity to oblige you, and to see you are able to pursue your journey. I won’t detain you, but perhaps you may not be displeased to see my palace; follow my women, and they will show it you.”Then the magician went back and related to the Sultan of the Indies all that had happened, and how very rich Prince Ahmed was since his marriage with the Fairy, richer than all the kings in the world, and how there was danger that he should come and take the throne from his father.Though the Sultan of the Indies was very well persuaded that Prince Ahmed’s natural disposition was good, yet he could not help being concerned at the discourse of the old sorceress, to whom, when she was taking her leave, he said: “I thank thee for the pains thou hast taken, and thy wholesome advice. I am so sensible of the great importance it is to me that I shall deliberate upon it in council.”Now the favorites advised that the Prince should be killed, but the magician advised differently: “Make him give you all kinds of wonderful things, by the Fairy’s help, till she tires of him and sends him away. As, for example, every time your Majesty goes into the field, you are obliged to be at a great expense, not only in pavilions and tents for your army, but likewise in mules and camels to carry their baggage. Now, might not you engage him to use his interest with the Fairy to procure you a tent which might be carried in a man’s hand, and which should be so large as to shelter your whole army against bad weather?”When the magician had finished her speech, the Sultan asked his favorites if they had anything better to propose; and, finding them all silent, determined to follow the magician’s advice, as the most reasonable and most agreeable to his mild government.Next day the Sultan did as the magician had advised him, and asked for the pavilion.Prince Ahmed never expected that the Sultan his father would have asked such a thing, which at first appeared so difficult, not to say impossible. Though he knew not absolutely how great the power of genies and fairies was, he doubted whether it extended so far as to compass such a tent as his father desired. At last he replied: “Though it is with the greatest reluctance imaginable, I will not fail to ask the favor of my wife your Majesty desires, but will not promise you to obtain it; and if I should not have the honor to come again to pay you my respects that shall be the sign that I have not had success. But beforehand, I desire you to forgive me, and consider that you yourself have reduced me to this extremity.”“Son,” replied the Sultan of the Indies, “I should be very sorry if what I ask of you should cause me the displeasure of never seeing you more. I find you don’t know the power a husband has over a wife; and yours would show that her love to you was very indifferent if she, with the power she has of a fairy, should refuse you so trifling a request as this I desire you to ask of her for my sake.” The Prince went back, and was very sad for fear of offending the Fairy. She kept pressing him to tell her what was the matter, and at last he said: “Madam, you may have observed that hitherto I have been content with your love, and have never asked you any other favor. Consider then, I conjure you, that it is not I, but the Sultan my father, who indiscreetly, or at least I think so, begs of you a pavilion large enough to shelter him, his Court, and army from the violence of the weather, and which a man may carry in his hand. But remember it is the Sultan my father asks this favor.”“Prince,” replied the Fairy, smiling, “I am sorry that so small a matter should disturb you, and make you so uneasy as you appeared to me.”Then the Fairy sent for her treasurer, to whom, when she came, she said: “Nourgihan”–which was her name– “bring me the largest pavilion in my treasury.” Nourgiham returned presently with the pavilion, which she could not only hold in her hand, but in the palm of her hand when she shut her fingers, and presented it to her mistress, who gave it to Prince Ahmed to look at.When Prince Ahmed saw the pavilion which the Fairy called the largest in her treasury, he fancied she had a mind to jest with him, and thereupon the marks of his surprise appeared presently in his countenance; which Paribanou perceiving burst out laughing. “What! Prince,” cried she, “do you think I jest with you? You’ll see presently that I am in earnest. Nourgihan,” said she to her treasurer, taking the tent out of Prince Ahmed’s hands, “go and set it up, that the Prince may judge whether it may be large enough for the Sultan his father.”The treasurer went immediately with it out of the palace, and carried it a great way off; and when she had set it up one end reached to the very palace; at which time the Prince, thinking it small, found it large enough to shelter two greater armies than that of the Sultan his father’s, and then said to Paribanou: “I ask my Princess a thousand pardons for my incredulity; after what I have seen I believe there is nothing impossible to you.” “You see,” said the Fairy, “that the pavilion is larger than what your father may have occasion for; for you must know that it has one property–that it is larger or smaller according to the army it is to cover.”The treasurer took down the tent again, and brought it to the Prince, who took it, and, without staying any longer than till the next day, mounted his horse, and went with the same attendants to the Sultan his father.The Sultan, who was persuaded that there could not be any such thing as such a tent as he asked for, was in a great surprise at the Prince’s diligence. He took the tent and after he had admired its smallness his amazement was so great that he could not recover himself. When the tent was set up in the great plain, which we have before mentioned, he found it large enough to shelter an army twice as large as he could bring into the field.But the Sultan was not yet satisfied. “Son,” said he, “I have already expressed to you how much I am obliged to you for the present of the tent you have procured me; that I look upon it as the most valuable thing in all my treasury. But you must do one thing more for me, which will be every whit as agreeable to me. I am informed that the Fairy, your spouse, makes use of a certain water, called the Water of the Fountain of Lions, which cures all sorts of fevers, even the most dangerous, and, as I am perfectly well persuaded my health is dear to you, I don’t doubt but you will ask her for a bottle of that water for me, and bring it me as a sovereign medicine, which I may make use of when I have occasion. Do me this other important piece of service, and thereby complete the duty of a good son toward a tender father.”The Prince returned and told the Fairy what his father had said; “There’s a great deal of wickedness in this demand?” she answered, “as you will understand by what I am going to tell you. The Fountain of Lions is situated in the middle of a court of a great castle, the entrance into which is guarded by four fierce lions, two of which sleep alternately, while the other two are awake. But don’t let that frighten you: I’ll give you means to pass by them without any danger.”The Fairy Paribanou was at that time very hard at work, and, as she had several clews of thread by her, she took up one, and, presenting it to Prince Ahmed, said: First take this clew of thread. I’ll tell you presently the use of it. In the second place, you must have two horses; one you must ride yourself, and the other you must lead, which must be loaded with a sheep cut into four quarters, that must be killed today. In the third place, you must be provided with a bottle, which I will give you, to bring the water in. Set out early to-morrow morning, and when you have passed the iron gate throw the clew of thread before you, which will roll till it comes to the gates of the castle. Follow it, and when it stops, as the gates will be open, you will see the four lions: the two that are awake will, by their roaring, wake the other two, but don’t be frightened, but throw each of them a quarter of mutton, and then clap spurs to your horse and ride to the fountain; fill your bottle without alighting, and then return with the same expedition. The lions will be so busy eating they will let you pass by them.”Prince Ahmed set out the next morning at the time appointed by the Fairy, and followed her directions exactly. When he arrived at the gates of the castle he distributed the quarters of mutton among the four lions, and, passing through the midst of them bravely, got to the fountain, filled his bottle, and returned back as safe and sound as he went. When he had gone a little distance from the castle gates he turned him about, and, perceiving two of the lions coming after him, he drew his sabre and prepared himself for defense. But as he went forward he saw one of them turned out of the road at some distance, and showed by his head and tail that he did not come to do him any harm, but only to go before him, and that the other stayed behind to follow, he put his sword up again in its scabbard. Guarded in this manner, he arrived at the capital of the Indies, but the lions never left him till they had conducted him to the gates of the Sultan’s palace; after which they returned the same way they came, though not without frightening all that saw them, for all they went in a very gentle manner and showed no fierceness.A great many officers came to attend the Prince while he dismounted his horse, and afterward conducted him into the Sultan’s apartment, who was at that time surrounded with his favorites. He approached toward the throne, laid the bottle at the Sultan’s feet, and kissed the rich tapestry which covered his footstool, and then said:“I have brought you, sir, the healthful water which your Majesty desired so much to keep among your other rarities in your treasury, but at the same time wish you such extraordinary health as never to have occasion to make use of it.”After the Prince had made an end of his compliment the Sultan placed him on his right hand, and then said to him: “Son, I am very much obliged to you for this valuable present, as also for the great danger you have exposed yourself to upon my account (which I have been informed of by a magician who knows the Fountain of Lions); but do me the pleasure,” continued he, “to inform me by what address, or, rather, by what incredible power, you have been secured.”“Sir,” replied Prince Ahmed, “I have no share in the compliment your Majesty is pleased to make me; all the honor is due to the Fairy my spouse, whose good advice I followed.” Then he informed the Sultan what those directions were, and by the relation of this his expedition let him know how well he had behaved himself. When he had done the Sultan, who showed outwardly all the demonstrations of great joy, but secretly became more jealous, retired into an inward apartment, where he sent for the magician.The magician, at her arrival, saved the Sultan the trouble to tell her of the success of Prince Ahmed’s journey, which she had heard of before she came, and therefore was prepared with an infallible means, as she pretended. This means she communicated to the Sultan who declared it the next day to the Prince, in the midst of all his courtiers, in these words: “Son,” said he, “I have one thing more to ask of you, after which I shall expect nothing more from your obedience, nor your interest with your wife. This request is, to bring me a man not above a foot and a half high, and whose beard is thirty feet long who carries a bar of iron upon his shoulders of five hundredweight, which he uses as a quarterstaff.”Prince Ahmed, who did not believe that there was such a man in the world as his father described, would gladly have excused himself; but the Sultan persisted in his demand, and told him the Fairy could do more incredible things.The next day the Prince returned to his dear Paribanou, to whom he told his father’s new demand, which, he said, he looked upon to be a thing more impossible than the two first; “for,” added he, “I cannot imagine there can be such a man in the world; without doubt, he has a mind to try whether or no I am so silly as to go about it, or he has a design on my ruin. In short, how can he suppose that I should lay hold of a man so well armed, though he is but little? What arms can I make use of to reduce him to my will? If there are any means, I beg you will tell them, and let me come off with honor this time.”“Don’t affright yourself, Prince,” replied the Fairy; “you ran a risk in fetching the Water of the Fountain of Lions for your father, but there’s no danger in finding out this man, who is my brother Schaibar, but is so far from being like me, though we both had the same father, that he is of so violent a nature that nothing can prevent his giving cruel marks of his resentment for a slight offense; yet, on the other hand, is so good as to oblige anyone in whatever they desire. He is made exactly as the Sultan your father has described him, and has no other arms than a bar of iron of five hundred pounds weight, without which he never stirs, and which makes him respected. I’ll send for him, and you shall judge of the truth of what I tell you; but be sure to prepare yourself against being frightened at his extraordinary figure when you see him.” “What! my Queen,” replied Prince Ahmed, “do you say Schaibar is your brother? Let him be never so ugly or deformed I shall be so far from being frightened at the sight of him that, as our brother, I shall honor and love him.”The Fairy ordered a gold chafing-dish to be set with a fire in it under the porch of her palace, with a box of the same metal, which was a present to her, out of which taking a perfume, and throwing it into the fire, there arose a thick cloud of smoke.Some moments after the Fairy said to Prince Ahmed: “See, there comes my brother.” The Prince immediately perceived Schaibar coming gravely with his heavy bar on his shoulder, his long beard, which he held up before him, and a pair of thick mustachios, which he tucked behind his ears and almost covered his face; his eyes were very small and deep-set in his head, which was far from being of the smallest size, and on his head he wore a grenadier’s cap; besides all this, he was very much hump-backed.If Prince Ahmed had not known that Schaibar was Paribanou’s brother, he would not have been able to have looked at him without fear, but, knowing first who he was, he stood by the Fairy without the least concern.Schaibar, as he came forward, looked at the Prince earnestly enough to have chilled his blood in his veins, and asked Paribanou, when he first accosted her, who that man was. To which she replied: “He is my husband, brother. His name is Ahmed; he is son to the Sultan of the Indies. The reason why I did not invite you to my wedding was I was unwilling to divert you from an expedition you were engaged in, and from which I heard with pleasure you returned victorious, and so took the liberty now to call for you.”At these words, Schaibar, looking on Prince Ahmed favorably, said: “Is there anything else, sister, wherein I can serve him? It is enough for me that he is your husband to engage me to do for him whatever he desires.” “The Sultan, his father,” replied Paribanou, “has a curiosity to see you, and I desire he may be your guide to the Sultan’s Court.” “He needs but lead me the way I’ll follow him.” “Brother,” replied Paribanou, “it is too late to go today, therefore stay till to-morrow morning; and in the meantime I’ll inform you of all that has passed between the Sultan of the Indies and Prince Ahmed since our marriage.”The next morning, after Schaibar had been informed of the affair, he and Prince Ahmed set out for the Sultan’s Court. When they arrived at the gates of the capital the people no sooner saw Schaibar but they ran and hid themselves; and some shut up their shops and locked themselves up in their houses, while others, flying, communicated their fear to all they met, who stayed not to look behind them, but ran too; insomuch that Schaibar and Prince Ahmed, as they went along, found the streets all desolate till they came to the palaces where the porters, instead of keeping the gates, ran away too, so that the Prince and Schaibar advanced without any obstacle to the council-hall, where the Sultan was seated on his throne, and giving audience. Here likewise the ushers, at the approach of Schaibar, abandoned their posts, and gave them free admittance.Schaibar went boldly and fiercely up to the throne, without waiting to be presented by Prince Ahmed, and accosted the Sultan of the Indies in these words: “Thou hast asked for me,” said he; “see, here I am; what wouldst thou have with me?”The Sultan, instead of answering him, clapped his hands before his eyes to avoid the sight of so terrible an object; at which uncivil and rude reception Schaibar was so much provoked, after he had given him the trouble to come so far, that he instantly lifted up his iron bar and killed him before Prince Ahmed could intercede in his behalf. All that he could do was to prevent his killing the grand vizier, who sat not far from him, representing to him that he had always given the Sultan his father good advice. “These are they, then,” said Schaibar, “who gave him bad,” and as he pronounced these words he killed all the other viziers and flattering favorites of the Sultan who were Prince Ahmed’s enemies. Every time he struck he killed some one or other, and none escaped but they who were not so frightened as to stand staring and gaping, and who saved themselves by flight.When this terrible execution was over Schaibar came out of the council-hall into the midst of the courtyard with the iron bar upon his shoulder, and, looking hard at the grand vizier, who owed his life to Prince Ahmed, he said: “I know here is a certain magician, who is a greater enemy of my brother-in-law than all these base favorites I have chastised. Let the magician be brought to me presently.” The grand vizier immediately sent for her, and as soon as she was brought Schaibar said, at the time he fetched a stroke at her with his iron bar: “Take the reward of thy pernicious counsel, and learn to feign sickness again.”After this he said: “This is not yet enough; I will use the whole town after the same manner if they do not immediately acknowledge Prince Ahmed, my brother-in- law, for their Sultan and the Sultan of the Indies.” Then all that were there present made the air echo again with the repeated acclamations of: “Long life to Sultan Ahmed”; and immediately after he was proclaimed through the whole town. Schaibar made him be clothed in the royal vestments, installed him on the throne, and after he had caused all to swear homage and fidelity to him went and fetched his sister Paribanou, whom he brought with all the pomp and grandeur imaginable, and made her to be owned Sultaness of the Indies.As for Prince Ali and Princess Nouronnihar, as they had no hand in the conspiracy against Prince Ahmed and knew nothing of any, Prince Ahmed assigned them a considerable province, with its capital, where they spent the rest of their lives. Afterwards he sent an officer to Prince Houssain to acquaint him with the change and make him an offer of which province he liked best; but that Prince thought himself so happy in his solitude that he bade the officer return the Sultan his brother thanks for the kindness he designed him, assuring him of his submission; and that the only favor he desired of him was to give him leave to live retired in the place he had made choice of for his retreat.
A Countryman’s son by accident trod upon a Serpent’s tail, which turned and bit him so that he died. The father in a rage got his axe, and pursuing the Serpent, cut off part of its tail. So the Serpent in revenge began stinging several of the Farmer’s cattle and caused him severe loss. Well, the Farmer thought it best to make it up with the Serpent, and brought food and honey to the mouth of its lair, and said to it: “Let’s forget and forgive; perhaps you were right to punish my son, and take vengeance on my cattle, but surely I was right in trying to revenge him; now that we are both satisfied why should not we be friends again?” “No, no,” said the Serpent; “take away your gifts; you can never forget the death of your son, nor I the loss of my tail.” Injuries may be forgiven, but not forgotten.
Three brothers lived with their old Indian mother in the forest near the sea. Their father had long been dead. At his death he had little of the world’s goods to his credit and his widow and her sons were very poor. In the place where they dwelt, the game was not plentiful, and to get food enough to keep them from want they had often to go far into the forest. The youngest boy was smaller and weaker than the others, and when the two older sons went far away to hunt, they always left him behind, for although he always wished to accompany them they would never allow him to go. He had to do all the work about the house, and all day long he gathered wood in the forest and carried water from the stream. And even when his brothers went out in the springtime to draw sap from the maple trees he was never permitted to go with them. He was always making mistakes and doing foolish things. His brothers called him Thick-head, and all the people round about said he was a simpleton because of his slow and queer ways. His mother alone was kind to him and she always said, “They may laugh at you and call you fool, but you will prove to be wiser than all of them yet, for so it was told me by a forest fairy at your birth.”The Chief of the people had a beautiful daughter who had many suitors. But her father spurned them all from his door and said, “My daughter is not yet of age to marry; and when her time of marriage comes, she will only marry the man who can make great profit from hunting.” The two older sons of the old woman decided that one of them must win the girl. So they prepared to set out on a great hunting expedition far away in the northern forest, for it was now autumn, and the hunter’s moon had come. The youngest boy wanted to go with them, for he had never been away from home and he wished to see the world. And his mother said he might go.His brothers were very angry when they heard his request, and they said, “Much good Thick-head can do us in the chase. He will only bring us bad luck. He is not a hunter but a scullion and a drudge fit only for the fireside.” But his mother commanded them to grant the boy’s wish and they had to obey. So the three brothers set out for the north country, the two older brothers grumbling loudly because they were accompanied by the boy they thought a fool.The two older brothers had good success in the chase and they killed many animals—deer and rabbits and otters and beavers. And they came home bearing a great quantity of dried meat and skins. They each thought, “Now we have begun to prove our prowess to the Chief, and if we succeed as well next year when the hunter’s moon comes again, one of us will surely win his daughter when she is old enough to marry.” But all the youngest boy brought home as a result of his journey into the game country was a large Earth-Worm as thick as his finger and as long as his arm. It was the biggest Earth-Worm he had ever seen. He thought it a great curiosity as well as a great discovery, and he was so busy watching it each day that he had no time to hunt. When he brought it home in a box, his brothers said to their mother, “What did we tell you about Thick-head? He has now surely proved himself a fool. He has caught only a fat Earth-Worm in all these weeks.” And they noised it abroad in the village and all the people laughed loudly at the simpleton, until “Thick-head’s hunt” became a by-word in all the land. But the boy’s mother only smiled and said, “He will surprise them all yet.”The boy kept the Earth-Worm in a tiny pen just outside the door of his home. One day a large Duck came waddling along, and sticking her bill over the little fence of the pen she quickly gobbled up the Worm. The boy was very angry and he went to the man who owned the Duck, and said, “Your Duck ate up my pet Worm. I want my Worm.”The man offered to pay him whatever price he asked, but the boy said, “I do not want your price. I want my Worm.”But the man said, “How can I give you your Worm when my Duck has eaten it up? It is gone for ever.”And the boy said, “It is not gone. It is in the Duck’s belly. So I must have the Duck.” Then to avoid further trouble the man gave Thick-head the Duck, for he thought to himself, “What is the use of arguing with a fool.”The boy took the Duck home and kept it in a little pen near his home with a low fence around it. And he tied a great weight to its foot so that it could not fly away. He was quite happy again, for he thought, “Now I have both my Worm and the Duck.” But one day a Fox came prowling along looking for food. He saw the fat Duck tied by the foot in the little pen. And he said, “What good fortune! There is a choice meal for me,” and in a twinkling he was over the fence. The Duck quacked and made a great noise, but she was soon silenced. The Fox had just finished eating up the Duck when the boy, who had heard the quacking, came running out of the house. The Fox was smacking his lips after his good meal, and he was too slow in getting away. The boy fell to beating him with a stout club and soon killed him and threw his body into the yard behind the house. And he thought, “That is not so bad. Now I have my Worm and the Duck and the Fox.”That night an old Wolf came through the forest in search of food. He was very hungry, and in the bright moonlight he saw the dead Fox lying in the yard. He pounced upon it greedily and devoured it until not a trace of it was left. But the boy saw him before he could get away, and he came stealthily upon him and killed him with a blow of his axe. “I am surely in good luck,” he thought, “for now I have the Worm and the Duck and the Fox and the Wolf.”But the next day when he told his brothers of his good fortune and his great skill, they laughed at him loudly and said, “Much good a dead Wolf will do you. Before two days have passed it will be but an foul-smelling thing and we shall have to bury it deep. You are indeed a great fool.”The boy pondered for a long time over what they had said, and he thought, “Perhaps they are right. The dead Wolf cannot last long. I will save the skin.” So he skinned the Wolf and dried the skin and made a drum from it. For the drum was one of the few musical instruments of the Indians in those old times, and they beat it loudly at all their dances and festivals. The boy beat the drum each evening, and made a great noise, and he was very proud because he had the only drum in the whole village.One day the Chief sent for him and said to him, “I want to borrow your drum for this evening. I am having a great gathering to announce to all the land that my daughter is now of age to marry and that suitors may now seek her hand in marriage. But we have no musical instruments and I want your drum, and I myself will beat it at the dance.”So Thick-head brought his drum to the Chief’s house, but he was not very well pleased, because he was not invited to the feast, while his brothers were among the favoured guests. And he said to the Chief, “Be very careful. Do not tear the skin of my drum, for I can never get another like it. My Worm and my Duck and my Fox and my Wolf have all helped to make it.”The next day he went for his drum. But the Chief had struck it too hard and had split it open so that it would now make no sound and it was ruined beyond repair. He offered to pay the boy a great price for it, but the boy said, “I do not want your price. I want my drum. Give me back my drum, for my Worm and the Duck and the Fox and the Wolf are all in it.”The Chief said, “How can I give you back your drum when it is broken? It is gone for ever. I will give you anything you desire in exchange for it. Since you do not like the price I offer, you may name your own price and you shall have it.” And the boy thought to himself, “Here is a chance for good fortune. Now I shall surprise my brothers.”And he said, “Since you cannot give me my drum, I will take your daughter in marriage in exchange.” The Chief was much perplexed, but he had to be true to his word. So he gave his daughter to Thick-head, and they were married, and the girl brought him much treasure and they lived very happily. And his brothers were much amazed and angered because they had failed. But his mother said, “I told you he was wiser than you and that he would outwit you yet although you called him Thick-head and fool. For the forest fairy said it to me at his birth.”
There were two lasses, daughters of one mother, and as they came from the fair, they saw a right bonny young man stand at the house-door before them. They never saw such a bonny man before. He had gold on his cap, gold on his finger, gold on his neck, a red gold watch-chain—eh! but he had brass. He had a golden ball in each hand. He gave a ball to each lass, and she was to keep it, and if she lost it, she was to be hanged. One of the lasses, ‘t was the youngest, lost her ball. I’ll tell thee how. She was by a park-paling, and she was tossing her ball, and it went up, and up, and up, till it went fair over the paling; and when she climbed up to look, the ball ran along the green grass, and it went right forward to the door of the house, and the ball went in and she saw it no more.So she was taken away to be hanged by the neck till she was dead because she’d lost her ball.But she had a sweetheart, and he said he would go and get the ball. So he went to the park-gate, but ‘t was shut; so he climbed the hedge, and when he got to the top of the hedge, an old woman rose up out of the dyke before him, and said, if he wanted to get the ball, he must sleep three nights in the house. He said he would.“Happy bogles.” Illustration by John D. Batten, published in More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs (1922), G. Putnam’s Sons.Then he went into the house, and looked for the ball, but could not find it. Night came on and he heard bogles move in the courtyard; so he looked out o’ the window, and the yard was full of them.Presently he heard steps coming upstairs. He hid behind the door, and was as still as a mouse. Then in came a big giant five times as tall as he, and the giant looked round but did not see the lad, so he went to the window and bowed to look out; and as he bowed on his elbows to see the bogles in the yard, the lad stepped behind him, and with one blow of his sword he cut him in twain, so that the top part of him fell in the yard, and the bottom part stood looking out of the window.There was a great cry from the bogles when they saw half the giant come tumbling down to them, and they called out, “There comes half our master, give us the other half.”So the lad said, “It’s no use of thee, thou pair of legs, standing alone at the window, as thou hast no eye to see with, so go join thy brother;” and he cast the lower part of the giant after the top part. Now when the bogles had gotten all the giant they were quiet.Next night the lad was at the house again, and now a second giant came in at the door, and as he came in the lad cut him in twain, but the legs walked on to the chimney and went up them. “Go, get thee after thy legs,” said the lad to the head, and he cast the head up the chimney too.The third night the lad got into bed, and he heard the bogles striving under the bed, and they had the ball there, and they were casting it to and fro.Now one of them has his leg thrust out from under the bed, so the lad brings his sword down and cuts it off. Then another thrusts his arm out at other side of the bed, and the lad cuts that off. So at last he had maimed them all, and they all went crying and wailing off, and forgot the ball, but he took it from under the bed, and went to seek his true-love.Now the lass was taken to York to be hanged; she was brought out on the scaffold, and the hangman said, “Now, lass, thou must hang by the neck till thou be’st dead.”But she cried out:“Stop, stop, I think I see my mother coming!O mother, hast brought my golden ballAnd come to set me free?”“I’ve neither brought thy golden ballNor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hungUpon this gallows-tree.”Then the hangman said, “Now, lass, say thy prayers for thou must die.” But she said:“Stop, stop, I think I see my father coming!O father, hast brought my golden ballAnd come to set me free?”“I’ve neither brought thy golden ballNor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hungUpon this gallows-tree.”Then the hangman said, “Hast thee done thy prayers? Now, lass, put thy head into the noose.”But she answered, “Stop, stop, I think I see my brother coming!” And again she sang, and then she thought she saw her sister coming, then her uncle, then her aunt, then her cousin; but after this the hangman said, “I will stop no longer, thou ‘rt making game of me. Thou must be hung at once.”But now she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd, and he held over his head in the air her own golden ball; so she said:“Stop, stop, I see my sweetheart coming!Sweetheart, hast brought my golden ballAnd come to set me free?”“Aye, I have brought thy golden ballAnd come to set thee free,I have not come to see thee hungUpon this gallows-tree.”And he took her home, and they lived happy ever after.
Somewhere in a town in holy Russia, there lived a rich merchant with his wife. He had an only son, a dear, bright, and brave boy called Ivan. One lovely day Ivan sat at the dinner table with his parents. Near the window in the same room hung a cage, and a nightingale, a sweet-voiced, gray bird, was imprisoned within. The sweet nightingale began to sing its wonderful song with trills and high silvery tones. The merchant listened and listened to the song and said:“How I wish I could understand the meaning of the different songs of all the birds! I would give half my wealth to the man, if only there were such a man, who could make plain to me all the different songs of the different birds.”Ivan took notice of these words and no matter where he went, no matter where he was, no matter what he did, he always thought of how he could learn the language of the birds.Some time after this the merchant’s son happened to be hunting in a forest. The winds rose, the sky became clouded, the lightning flashed, the thunder roared loudly, and the rain fell in torrents. Ivan soon came near a large tree and saw a big nest in the branches. Four small birds were in the nest; they were quite alone, and neither father nor mother was there to protect them from the cold and wet. The good Ivan pitied them, climbed the tree and covered the little ones with his “kaftan,” a long-skirted coat which the Russian peasants and merchants usually wear. The thunderstorm passed by and a big bird came flying and sat down on a branch near the nest and spoke very kindly to Ivan.“Ivan, I thank thee; thou hast protected my little children from the cold and rain and I wish to do something for thee. Tell me what thou dost wish.”Ivan answered; “I am not in need; I have everything for my comfort. But teach me the birds’ language.”“Stay with me three days and thou shalt know all about it.”Ivan remained in the forest three days. He understood well the teaching of the big bird and returned home more clever than before. One beautiful day soon after this Ivan sat with his parents when the nightingale was singing in his cage. His song was so sad, however, so very sad, that the merchant and his wife also became sad, and their son, their good Ivan, who listened very attentively, was even more affected, and the tears came running down his cheeks.“What is the matter?” asked his parents; “what art thou weeping about, dear son?”“Dear parents,” answered the son, “it is because I understand the meaning of the nightingale’s song, and because this meaning is so sad for all of us.”“What then is the meaning? Tell us the whole truth; do not hide it from us,” said the father and mother.“Oh, how sad it sounds!” replied the son. “How much better would it be never to have been born!”“Do not frighten us,” said the parents, alarmed. “If thou dost really understand the meaning of the song, tell us at once.”“Do you not hear for yourselves? The nightingale says: ‘The time will come when Ivan, the merchant’s son, shall become Ivan, the king’s son, and his own father shall serve him as a simple servant.'”The merchant and his wife felt troubled and began to distrust their son, their good Ivan. So one night they gave him a drowsy drink, and when he had fallen asleep they took him to a boat on the wide sea, spread the white sails, and pushed the boat from the shore.For a long time the boat danced on the waves and finally it came near a large merchant vessel, which struck against it with such a shock that Ivan awoke. The crew on the large vessel saw Ivan and pitied him. So they decided to take him along with them and did so. High, very high, above in the sky they perceived cranes. Ivan said to the sailors:“Be careful; I hear the birds predicting a storm. Let us enter a harbor or we shall suffer great danger and damage. All the sails will be torn and all the masts will be broken.”But no one paid any attention and they went farther on. In a short time the storm arose, the wind tore the vessel almost to pieces, and they had a very hard time to repair all the damage. When they were through with their work they heard many wild swans flying above them and talking very loud among themselves.“What are they talking about?” inquired the men, this time with interest.“Be careful,” advised Ivan. “I hear and distinctly understand them to say that the pirates, the terrible sea robbers, are near. If we do not enter a harbor at once they will imprison and kill us.”The crew quickly obeyed this advice and as soon as the vessel entered the harbor the pirate boats passed by and the merchants saw them capture several unprepared vessels. When the danger was over, the sailors with Ivan went farther, still farther. Finally the vessel anchored near a town, large and unknown to the merchants. A king ruled in that town who was very much annoyed by three black crows. These three crows were all the time perching near the window of the king’s chamber. No one knew how to get rid of them and no one could kill them. The king ordered notices to be placed at all crossings and on all prominent buildings, saying that whoever was able to relieve the king from the noisy birds would be rewarded by obtaining the youngest korolevna, the king’s daughter, for a wife; but the one who should have the daring to undertake but not succeed in delivering the palace from the crows would have his head cut off. Ivan attentively read the announcement, once, twice, and once more. Finally he made the sign of the cross and went to the palace. He said to the servants:“Open the window and let me listen to the birds.”The servants obeyed and Ivan listened for a while. Then he said:“Show me to your sovereign king.”When he reached the room where the king sat on a high, rich chair, he bowed and said:“There are three crows, a father crow, a mother crow, and a son crow. The trouble is that they desire to obtain thy royal decision as to whether the son crow must follow his father crow or his mother crow.”The king answered: “The son crow must follow the father crow.”As soon as the king announced his royal decision the crow father with the crow son went one way and the crow mother disappeared the other way, and no one has heard the noisy birds since. The king gave one-half of his kingdom and his youngest korolevna to Ivan, and a happy life began for him.In the meantime his father, the rich merchant, lost his wife and by and by his fortune also. There was no one left to take care of him, and the old man went begging under the windows of charitable people. He went from one window to another, from one village to another, from one town to another, and one bright day he came to the palace where Ivan lived, begging humbly for charity. Ivan saw him and recognized him, ordered him to come inside, and gave him food to eat and also supplied him with good clothes, asking questions:“Dear old man, what can I do for thee?” he said.“If thou art so very good,” answered the poor father, without knowing that he was speaking to his own son, “let me remain here and serve thee among thy faithful servants.”“Dear, dear father!” exclaimed Ivan, “thou didst doubt the true song of the nightingale, and now thou seest that our fate was to meet according to the predictions of long ago.”The old man was frightened and knelt before his son, but his Ivan remained the same good son as before, took his father lovingly into his arms, and together they wept over their sorrow.Several days passed by and the old father felt courage to ask his son, the korolevitch:“Tell me, my son, how was it that thou didst not perish in the boat?”Ivan Korolevitch laughed gayly.“I presume,” he answered, “that it was not my fate to perish at the bottom of the wide sea, but my fate was to marry the korolevna, my beautiful wife, and to sweeten the old age of my dear father.”
Newtown, or Franchville, as ‘t was called of old, is a sleepy little town, as you all may know, upon the Solent shore. Sleepy as it is now, it was once noisy enough, and what made the noise was—rats. The place was so infested with them as to be scarce worth living in. There wasn’t a barn or a corn-rick, a store-room or a cupboard, but they ate their way into it. Not a cheese but they gnawed it hollow, not a sugar puncheon but they cleared out. Why the very mead and beer in the barrels was not safe from them. They’d gnaw a hole in the top of the tun, and down would go one master rat’s tail, and when he brought it up round would crowd all the friends and cousins, and each would have a suck at the tail.Had they stopped here it might have been borne. But the squeaking and shrieking, the hurrying and scurrying, so that you could neither hear yourself speak nor get a wink of good honest sleep the live-long night! Not to mention that, Mamma must needs sit up, and keep watch and ward over baby’s cradle, or there’d have been a big ugly rat running across the poor little fellow’s face, and doing who knows what mischief.Why didn’t the good people of the town have cats? Well they did, and there was a fair stand-up fight, but in the end the rats were too many, and the pussies were regularly driven from the field. Poison, I hear you say? Why, they poisoned so many that it fairly bred a plague. Ratcatchers! Why there wasn’t a ratcatcher from John o’ Groat’s house to the Land’s End that hadn’t tried his luck. But do what they might, cats or poison, terrier or traps, there seemed to be more rats than ever, and every day a fresh rat was cocking his tail or pricking his whiskers.The Mayor and the town council were at their wits’ end. As they were sitting one day in the town hall racking their poor brains, and bewailing their hard fate, who should run in but the town beadle. “Please your Honour,” says he, “here is a very queer fellow come to town. I don’t rightly know what to make of him.” “Show him in,” said the Mayor, and in he stepped. A queer fellow, truly. For there wasn’t a colour of the rainbow but you might find it in some corner of his dress, and he was tall and thin, and had keen piercing eyes.“I’m called the Pied Piper,” he began. “And pray what might you be willing to pay me, if I rid you of every single rat in Franchville?”Well, much as they feared the rats, they feared parting with their money more, and fain would they have higgled and haggled. But the Piper was not a man to stand nonsense, and the upshot was that fifty pounds were promised him (and it meant a lot of money in those old days) as soon as not a rat was left to squeak or scurry in Franchville.Out of the hall stepped the Piper, and as he stepped he laid his pipe to his lips and a shrill keen tune sounded through street and house. And as each note pierced the air you might have seen a strange sight. For out of every hole the rats came tumbling. There were none too old and none too young, none too big and none too little to crowd at the Piper’s heels and with eager feet and upturned noses to patter after him as he paced the streets. Nor was the Piper unmindful of the little toddling ones, for every fifty yards he’d stop and give an extra flourish on his pipe just to give them time to keep up with the older and stronger of the band.Up Silver Street he went, and down Gold Street, and at the end of Gold Street is the harbour and the broad Solent beyond. And as he paced along, slowly and gravely, the townsfolk flocked to door and window, and many a blessing they called down upon his head.As for getting near him there were too many rats. And now that he was at the water’s edge he stepped into a boat, and not a rat, as he shoved off into deep water, piping shrilly all the while, but followed him, plashing, paddling, and wagging their tails with delight. On and on he played and played until the tide went down, and each master rat sank deeper and deeper in the slimy ooze of the harbour, until every mother’s son of them was dead and smothered.The tide rose again, and the Piper stepped on shore, but never a rat followed. You may fancy the townsfolk had been throwing up their caps and hurrahing and stopping up rat holes and setting the church bells a-ringing. But when the Piper stepped ashore and not so much as a single squeak was to be heard, the Mayor and the Council, and the townsfolk generally, began to hum and to ha and to shake their heads.For the town money chest had been sadly emptied of late, and where was the fifty pounds to come from? Such an easy job, too! Just getting into a boat and playing a pipe! Why the Mayor himself could have done that if only he had thought of it.So he hummed and ha’ad and at last, “Come, my good man,” said he, “you see what poor folk we are; how can we manage to pay you fifty pounds? Will you not take twenty? When all is said and done, ‘t will be good pay for the trouble you’ve taken.”“Fifty pounds was what I bargained for,” said the piper shortly; “and if I were you I’d pay it quickly. For I can pipe many kinds of tunes, as folk sometimes find to their cost.”“Would you threaten us, you strolling vagabond?” shrieked the Mayor, and at the same time he winked to the Council; “the rats are all dead and drowned,” muttered he; and so “You may do your worst, my good man,” and with that he turned short upon his heel.“Very well,” said the Piper, and he smiled a quiet smile. With that he laid his pipe to his lips afresh, but now there came forth no shrill notes, as it were, of scraping and gnawing, and squeaking and scurrying, but the tune was joyous and resonant, full of happy laughter and merry play. And as he paced down the streets the elders mocked, but from school-room and play-room, from nursery and workshop, not a child but ran out with eager glee and shout following gaily at the Piper’s call. Dancing, laughing, joining hands and tripping feet, the bright throng moved along up Gold Street and down Silver Street, and beyond Silver Street lay the cool green forest full of old oaks and wide-spreading beeches. In and out among the oak-trees you might catch glimpses of the Piper’s many-coloured coat. You might hear the laughter of the children break and fade and die away as deeper and deeper into the lone green wood the stranger went and the children followed.All the while, the elders watched and waited. They mocked no longer now. And watch and wait as they might, never did they set their eyes again upon the Piper in his parti-coloured coat. Never were their hearts gladdened by the song and dance of the children issuing forth from amongst the ancient oaks of the forest.
A Fir-tree was boasting to a Bramble, and said, somewhat contemptuously, “You poor creature, you are of no use whatever. Now, look at me: I am useful for all sorts of things, particularly when men build houses; they can’t do without me then.” But the Bramble replied, “Ah, that’s all very well: but you wait till they come with axes and saws to cut you down, and then you’ll wish you were a Bramble and not a Fir.”Better poverty without a care than wealth with its many obligations.
Sif was the wife of mighty Thor, the thunder-god, and she was very proud of her beautiful golden hair, which she combed and braided with great care. One morning when she awoke she was filled with grief and dismay to find that her lovely hair had been cut off in the night, while she slept. Her husband happened to be away that day, but when he came home late at night, Sif was careful to keep out of his sight, she felt so ashamed of her shorn head.Thor, however, soon called for Sif, and when he saw what had been done to her, he was very angry. Now Thor had a quick temper; every one feared his fierce anger. “Who could have done this wicked deed?” thought he. “There is only one among all the Æsir who would think of doing such a thing!”{Note: Listen to this Norse Mythology tale plus other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}Thor lost no time in finding Loki, and that mischief-god had to admit that he was the guilty one, but he begged Thor to give him just a few days, and he promised to get something for Sif that would make her look more beautiful than ever. So Thor decided to give him a chance to try, and commanded him to give back to Sif her golden hair.Now Loki knew a place where some wonderful workmen lived, so he went off, as fast as he could go, to Niflheim, the home of the dwarfs, under the earth, and asked one of them to make quickly some golden hair for Sif. Besides this, he asked for two gifts to carry to the gods Odin and Frey, so that they might be on his side if Thor should bring his complaint before the Æsir.Loki did not have to wait long before the dwarf brought him a quantity of beautiful hair, spun from the finest golden thread. It had the wonderful power of growing just like real hair, as soon as it touched any one’s head. Besides this, there was a spear for Odin, which never missed its aim, no matter how far it was thrown, and for Frey, a ship that could sail through the air as well as the sea. Although it was large enough to hold all the gods and their horses, yet it could be folded so that it was small enough to put in one’s pocket.Loki was greatly pleased with these wonderful presents, and declared that this dwarf must be the most skillful workman of them all. Now it happened that another dwarf, named Brock, heard him say this, and he told Loki that he was sure he and his brother could make more wonderful things than these.Loki did not believe that could be done, but he told Brock to try his skill; the Æsir should judge between them and the one who should fail in the trial must lose his head.Then Brock called his brother, Sindri, and they set to work at once. They first built a great fire, and Sindri threw into it a lump of gold; then he told Brock to blow the bellows while he went out, and be sure not to stop blowing until he should come back.Brock thought this an easy task, but his brother had not long been gone when a huge fly came in and buzzed about his face, and bothered him so that he could hardly keep on blowing; still he was able to finish his work, so that when Sindri came back, they took out of the fire an enormous wild boar, which gave out light, and could travel through the air with wonderful speed.On the second day Sindri threw another lump of gold into the fire, and left his brother to blow the bellows. Again the buzzing, stinging fly came, and was even more troublesome than before; but Brock tried very hard to be patient, and was able to bear it without stopping his work until Sindri returned. Then they took from the fire a magic ring of gold, from which eight new rings fell off every week.The third day a lump of iron was put into the fire, and Brock was again left alone. In came the cruel fly,—have you guessed that it was really that mischief-maker Loki? He bit the poor little dwarf so hard on the forehead that the blood ran down into his eyes, and blinded him so that he could no longer see to do his work.Poor Brock had to stop just before Sindri came home, but not before the hammer which they were making in the fire was nearly finished, only the handle came out rather too short. This magic hammer was named Miölnir. It had the power of never missing its mark, and would always return to the hand which threw it.When Loki appeared at last before the Æsir, with the two dwarf brothers and their gifts, it was declared that they had made the finest things, for the hammer, which was given to Thor, would surely be most useful in keeping the giants out of Asgard.When Loki found that the judgment was against him, he started to run away; but Thor soon made him turn back by threatening to throw his hammer after him.Then Loki had to collect his wits, and think of some way to escape losing his head, instead of making the dwarfs pay the forfeit, as he had expected. At last he told Brock and Sindri that they could have his head, according to the agreement, but as nothing had been said about his neck, they could not, of course, touch that.Thus the wily Loki, by his wit, saved his life.
Ellen was a good girl, and beautiful to look upon. One Sunday she was walking by an open gutter in a town in North Wales when she found a copper. After that day Ellen walked every Sunday afternoon by the same drain, and always found a copper. She was a careful girl, and used to hoard her money.One day her old mother found her pile of pennies, and wished to know where she got them.Ellen told her, but though she walked by the gutter for many aSunday after, she never found another copper.
Once upon a time a lad who tended the cattle in the wood was eating his noon-tide meal in a clearing in the forest. As he was sitting there he saw a rat run into a juniper-bush. His curiosity led him to look for it; but as he bent over, down he went, head over heels, and fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was going to find the princess on the Mount of the Golden Queen; but that he did not know the way.The following day he once more pastured his cattle in the wood, when he came to the same clearing, and again ate his dinner there. And again he saw the rat and went to look for it, and again when he bent down he went head over heels, and fell fast asleep. And again he dreamed of the princess on the Mount of the Golden Queen, and that in order to get her he would need seventy pounds of iron and a pair of iron shoes. He awoke and it was all a dream; but by now he had made up his mind to find the Mount of the Golden Queen, and he went home with his herd. On the third day, when he led out his cattle, he could not reach the clearing of his happy dream too soon. Again the rat showed itself and when he went to look for it, he fell asleep as he had done each preceding day. And again he dreamed of the princess on the Mount of the Golden Queen, and that she came to him, and laid a letter and a band of gold in his pocket. Then he awoke and to his indescribable surprise, he found in his pocket both of the things of which he had dreamed, the letter and the band. Now he had no time to attend to the cattle any longer, but drove them straight home. Then he went into the stable, led out a horse, sold it, and bought seventy pounds of iron and a pair of iron shoes with the money. He made the thole-pins out of the iron, put on his iron shoes, and set forth. For a time he traveled by land; but at last he came to the lake which he had to cross. He saw naught but water before and behind him, and rowing so long and steadily that he wore out one thole-pin after another, he at length reached land, and a green meadow, where no trees grew. He walked all around the meadow, and at last found a mound of earth from which smoke was rising. When he looked more closely, out came a woman who was nine yards long. He asked her to tell him the way to the Mount of the Golden Queen. But she replied: “That I do not know. Go ask my sister, who is nine yards taller than I am, and who lives in an earth-mound which you can find without any trouble.”So he left her and came to a mound of earth that looked just like the first, and from which smoke was also rising. A woman at once came out who was tremendously tall, and of her he asked the way to the Mount of the Golden Queen. “That I do not know,” said she. “Go ask my brother, who is nine yards taller than I am, and who lives in a hill a little further away.”So he came to the hill, from which smoke was also rising, and knocked. A man at once came out who was a veritable giant, for he was twenty-seven yards in length, and of him he asked the way to the Mount of the Golden Queen. Then the giant took a whistle and whistled in every direction, to call together all the animals to be found on the earth. And all the animals came from the woods, foremost among them a bear.The giant asked him about the Mount of the Golden Queen, but he knew nothing of it. Again the giant blew his whistle in every direction to call together all the fishes to be found in the waters. They came at once, and he asked them about the Mount of the Golden Queen; but they knew nothing of it. Once more the giant blew his whistle in every direction, and called together all the birds of the air. They came, and he asked the eagle about the Mount of the Golden Queen, and whether he knew where it might be.The eagle said: “Yes!” “Well then, take this lad there,” said the giant “but do not treat him unkindly!” This the eagle promised, allowed the youth to seat himself on his back, and then off they were through the air, over fields and forests, hill and dale, and before long they were above the ocean, and could see nothing but sky and water. Then the eagle dipped the youth in the ocean up to his ankles and asked: “Are you afraid?” “No,” said the youth. Then the eagle flew on a while, and again dipped the youth into the water, up to his knees and said: “Are you afraid?” “Yes,” answered the youth, “but the giant said you were not to treat me unkindly.” “Are you really afraid?” asked the eagle once more. “Yes,” answered the youth. Then the eagle said: “The fear you now feel is the very same fear I felt when the princess thrust the letter and the golden band into your pocket.”And with that they had reached a large, high mountain in one side of which was a great iron door. They knocked, and a serving-maid appeared to open the door and admit them. The youth remained and was well received; but the eagle said farewell and flew back to his native land. The youth asked for a drink, and he was at once handed a beaker containing a refreshing draught. When he had emptied it and returned the beaker, he let the golden band drop into it. And when the maid brought back the beaker to her mistress—who was the princess of the Mount of the Golden Queen—the latter looked into the beaker, and behold, there lay a golden band which she recognized as her own. So she asked: “Is there some one here?” and when the maid answered in the affirmative, the princess said: “Bid him come in!” And as soon as the youth entered she asked him if he chanced to have a letter. The youth drew out the letter he had received in so strange a manner, and gave it to the princess. And when she had read it she cried, full of joy: “Now I am delivered!” And at that very moment the mountain turned into a most handsome castle, with all sorts of precious things, servants, and every sort of convenience, each for its own purpose. (Whether the princess and the youth married the story does not say; yet we must take for granted that a wedding is the proper end for the fairy-tale).
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who was called Batcha. During the summer he pastured his flocks high up on the mountain where he had a little hut and a sheepfold.One day in autumn while he was lying on the ground, idly blowing his pipes, he chanced to look down the mountain slope. There he saw a most amazing sight. A great army of snakes, hundreds and hundreds in number, was slowly crawling to a rocky cliff not far from where he was lying.When they reached the cliff, every serpent bit off a leaf from a plant that was growing there. They then touched the cliff with the leaves and the rock opened. One by one they crawled inside. When the last one had disappeared, the rock closed.Batcha blinked his eyes in bewilderment.“What can this mean?” he asked himself. “Where are they gone? I think I’ll have to climb up there myself and see what that plant is. I wonder will the rock open for me?”He whistled to Dunay, his dog, and left him in charge of the sheep. Then he made his way over to the cliff and examined the mysterious plant. It was something he had never seen before.He picked a leaf and touched the cliff in the same place where the serpents had touched it. Instantly the rock opened.Batcha stepped inside. He found himself in a huge cavern the walls of which glittered with gold and silver and precious stones. A golden table stood in the center and upon it a monster serpent, a very king of serpents, lay coiled up fast asleep. The other serpents, hundreds and hundreds of them, lay on the ground around the table. They also were fast asleep. As Batcha walked about, not one of them stirred.Batcha sauntered here and there examining the walls and the golden table and the sleeping serpents. When he had seen everything he thought to himself:“It’s very strange and interesting and all that, but now it’s time for me to get back to my sheep.”It’s easy to say: “Now I’m going,” but when Batcha tried to go he found he couldn’t, for the rock had closed. So there he was locked in with the serpents.He was a philosophical fellow and so, after puzzling a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and said:“Well, if I can’t get out I suppose I’ll have to stay here for the night.”With that he drew his cape about him, lay down, and was soon fast asleep.He was awakened by a rustling murmur. Thinking that he was in his own hut, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he saw the glittering walls of the cavern and remembered his adventure.The old king serpent still lay on the golden table but no longer asleep. A movement like a slow wave was rippling his great coils. All the other serpents on the ground were facing the golden table and with darting tongues were hissing:“Is it time? Is it time?”The old king serpent slowly lifted his head and with a deep murmurous hiss said:“Yes, it is time.”He stretched out his long body, slipped off the golden table, and glided away to the wall of the cavern. All the smaller serpents wriggled after him.Batcha followed them, thinking to himself:“I’ll go out the way they go.”The old king serpent touched the wall with his tongue and the rock opened. Then he glided aside and the serpents crawled out, one by one. When the last one was out, Batcha tried to follow, but the rock swung shut in his face, again locking him in.The old king serpent hissed at him in a deep breathy voice:“Hah, you miserable man creature, you can’t get out! You’re here and here you stay!”“But I can’t stay here,” Batcha said. “What can I do in here? I can’t sleep forever! You must let me out! I have sheep at pasture and a scolding wife at home in the valley. She’ll have a thing or two to say if I’m late in getting back!”Batcha pleaded and argued until at last the old serpent said:“Very well, I’ll let you out, but not until you have made me a triple oath that you won’t tell any one how you came in.”Batcha agreed to this. Three times he swore a mighty oath not to tell any one how he had entered the cavern.“I warn you,” the old serpent said, as he opened the wall, “if you break this oath a terrible fate will overtake you!”Without another word Batcha hurried through the opening.Once outside he looked about him in surprise. Everything seemed changed. It was autumn when he had followed the serpents into the cavern. Now it was spring!“What has happened?” he cried in fright. “Oh, what an unfortunate fellow I am! Have I slept through the winter? Where are my sheep? And my wife—what will she say?”With trembling knees he made his way to his hut. His wife was busy inside. He could see her through the open door. He didn’t know what to say to her at first, so he slipped into the sheepfold and hid himself while he tried to think out some likely story.While he was crouching there, he saw a finely dressed gentleman come to the door of the hut and ask his wife where her husband was.The woman burst into tears and explained to the stranger that one day in the previous autumn her husband had taken out his sheep as usual and had never come back.“Dunay, the dog,” she said, “drove home the sheep and from that day to this nothing has ever been heard of my poor husband. I suppose a wolf devoured him, or the witches caught him and tore him to pieces and scattered him over the mountain. And here I am left, a poor forsaken widow! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!”Her grief was so great that Batcha leaped out of the sheepfold to comfort her.“There, there, dear wife, don’t cry! Here I am, alive and well! No wolf ate me, no witches caught me. I’ve been asleep in the sheepfold—that’s all. I must have slept all winter long!”At sight and sound of her husband, the woman stopped crying. Her grief changed to surprise, then to fury.“You wretch!” she cried. “You lazy, good-for-nothing loafer! A nice kind of shepherd you are to desert your sheep and yourself to idle away the winter sleeping like a serpent! That’s a fine story, isn’t it, and I suppose you think me fool enough to believe it! Oh, you—you sheep’s tick, where have you been and what have you been doing?”She flew at Batcha with both hands and there’s no telling what she would have done to him if the stranger hadn’t interfered.“There, there,” he said, “no use getting excited! Of course he hasn’t been sleeping here in the sheepfold all winter. The question is, where has he been? Here is some money for you. Take it and go along home to your cottage in the valley. Leave Batcha to me and I promise you I’ll get the truth out of him.”The woman abused her husband some more and then, pocketing the money, went off.As soon as she was gone, the stranger changed into a horrible looking creature with a third eye in the middle of his forehead.“Good heavens!” Batcha gasped in fright. “He’s the wizard of the mountain! Now what’s going to happen to me!”Batcha had often heard terrifying stories of the wizard, how he could himself take any form he wished and how he could turn a man into a ram.“Aha!” the wizard laughed. “I see you know me! Now then, no more lies! Tell me: where have you been all winter long?”At first Batcha remembered his triple oath to the old king serpent and he feared to break it. But when the wizard thundered out the same question a second time and a third time, and grew bigger and more horrible looking each time he spoke, Batcha forgot his oath and confessed everything.“Now come with me,” the wizard said. “Show me the cliff. Show me the magic plant.”What could Batcha do but obey? He led the wizard to the cliff and picked a leaf of the magic plant.“Open the rock,” the wizard commanded.Batcha laid the leaf against the cliff and instantly the rock opened.“Go inside!” the wizard ordered.But Batcha’s trembling legs refused to move.The wizard took out a book and began mumbling an incantation. Suddenly the earth trembled, the sky thundered, and with a great hissing whistling sound a monster dragon flew out of the cavern. It was the old king serpent whose seven years were up and who was now become a flying dragon. From his huge mouth he breathed out fire and smoke. With his long tail he swished right and left among the forest trees and these snapped and broke like little twigs.The wizard, still mumbling from his book, handed Batcha a bridle.“Throw this around his neck!” he commanded.Batcha took the bridle but was too terrified to act. The wizard spoke again and Batcha made one uncertain step in the dragon’s direction. He lifted his arm to throw the bridle over the dragon’s head, when the dragon suddenly turned on him, swooped under him, and before Batcha knew what was happening he found himself on the dragon’s back and he felt himself being lifted up, up, up, above the tops of the forest trees, above the very mountains themselves.For a moment the sky was so dark that only the fire, spurting from the dragon’s eyes and mouth, lighted them on their way.The dragon lashed this way and that in fury, he belched forth great floods of boiling water, he hissed, he roared, until Batcha, clinging to his back, was half dead with fright.Then gradually his anger cooled. He ceased belching forth boiling water, he stopped breathing fire, his hisses grew less terrifying.“Thank God!” Batcha gasped. “Perhaps now he’ll sink to earth and let me go.”“On, on they went, whizzing through the stars of heaven.” Illustration by Jan Matulka, published in The Shoemaker’s Apron by Parker Fillmore (1920), Harcourt, Brace and Company.But the dragon was not yet finished with punishing Batcha for breaking his oath. He rose still higher until the mountains of the earth looked like tiny ant-hills, still up until even these had disappeared. On, on they went, whizzing through the stars of heaven.At last the dragon stopped flying and hung motionless in the firmament. To Batcha this was even more terrifying than moving.“What shall I do? What shall I do?” he wept in agony. “If I jump down to earth I’ll kill myself and I can’t fly on up to heaven! Oh, dragon, have mercy on me! Fly back to earth and let me go and I swear before God that never again until death will I offend you!”Batcha’s pleading would have moved a stone to pity but the dragon, with an angry shake of his tail, only hardened his heart.Suddenly Batcha heard the sweet voice of the skylark that was mounting to heaven.“Skylark!” he called. “Dear skylark, bird that God loves, help me, for I am in great trouble! Fly up to heaven and tell God Almighty that Batcha, the shepherd, is hung in midair on a dragon’s back. Tell Him that Batcha praises Him forever and begs Him to deliver him.”The skylark carried this message to heaven and God Almighty, pitying the poor shepherd, took some birch leaves and wrote on them in letters of gold. He put them in the skylark’s bill and told the skylark to drop them on the dragon’s head.So the skylark returned from heaven and, hovering over Batcha, dropped the birch leaves on the dragon’s head.The dragon instantly sank to earth, so fast that Batcha lost consciousness.When he came to himself he was sitting before his own hut. He looked about him. The dragon’s cliff had disappeared. Otherwise everything was the same.It was late afternoon and Dunay, the dog, was driving home the sheep. There was a woman coming up the mountain path.Batcha heaved a great sigh.“Thank God I’m back!” he said to himself. “How fine it is to hear Dunay’s bark! And here comes my wife, God bless her! She’ll scold me, I know, but even if she does, how glad I am to see her!”
There was a snug little cove in one of the Shetland Islands. At the head of the cove stood a fishing hamlet, containing some twenty huts. In these huts lived the fisher-folk, ruled by one man—the chief—who was the father of two beautiful daughters.Now these fishermen for some years had been very lucky, for a fairy queen and her fairies had settled there, and she had given her power over to a merman, who was the chief of a large family of mermaids. The fairy queen had made the merman a belt of sea-weed, which he always wore round his body. The merman used to turn the water red, green, and white, at noon each day, so that the fishermen knew that if they cast their nets into the coloured waters they would make good hauls.Amongst these fishermen were two brave brothers, who courted the chief’s daughters, but the old man would not let them get married until they became rich men.Whenever the fishermen went off in the boats the merman was used to sit on a rock, and watch them fishing.Close by the hamlet was a great wood, in which lived a wicked old witch and a dwarf.Now this witch wished to get possession of the merman’s belt, and so gain the fairy’s power. Telling her scheme to the dwarf, she said to him:“Now you must trap the merman when he is sitting on the rocks watching the fishing fleet. But I must change you into a bee, when you must suck of the juice in this magic basin, then fly off and alight on the merman’s head, when he will fall asleep.”So the dwarf agreed, and it happened as she had said; and the merman fell asleep, and the dwarf stole the belt and brought it to the witch.“Now you must wear the belt,” said the witch to the dwarf, “and you will have the power and the fairy will lose her power.”They then translated the sleeping merman to the forest and laid him before the hut, when the witch got a copper vessel, saying:“We must bury him in this.”Then she got the magic pot, and told the dwarf to take a ladleful of the fluid in the pot, and pour it over the merman, which he did, and immediately the merman turned into smoke, that settled in the copper vessel. Then they sealed the copper vessel tightly.“Now take this vessel, and heave it into the sea fifty miles from the land,” said the witch, and the dwarf did as he was bid.“Now we’ll starve those old fishermen out this winter,” said the witch; and it happened as she had said—they could catch nothing.In the spring the queen fairy came to one of the young fishermen who was courting one of the chief’s daughters, and said:“You must venture for the sake of your love, and for the lives of the fishermen, or you will all starve—but I will be with you. Will you run the risk?”“I will,” said the brave fisherman.“Well, the dwarf has got my belt, he stole it from the merman, and so I have lost power over the world for twelve months and a day; but if you get back the belt I can settle the witch; if not, you will all starve and catch no fish.”So the bold fisherman agreed to try.“Now I must transform you into a bear, and you’ll have to watch the witch and the dwarf, and take your chance of getting the belt; and you must watch where he hides his treasure, for he is using the belt as a means to get gold, which he hides in a cave.”And so the sailor was turned into a bear, and he went to the wood and watched the dwarf, and saw that he hid his treasure in a cave in some crags.The bear had been given the power of making himself invisible, by sitting on his haunches and rubbing his ears with his paws.One night, when it was very boisterous, the bear felt like going to see his sweetheart. So he went, and knocked at the door. The girl opened the door, and shrieked when she saw the bear.“Oh, let him in,” said her old mother.So the bear came in and asked for shelter from the storm, for he could speak.And he went and sat by the fire, and asked his sweetheart to brush the snow from his coat, which she did.“I won’t do you any harm,” he said; “let me sleep by the fire.”He came again the next night, and they gave him some gruel, and played with him; for he was just like a dog.So he came every night until the springtime, when, one morning, as he was going away, he said:“You mustn’t expect me any more. Spring has come, and the snows have melted. I can’t come again till the summer is over.”So he returned to the wood and watched the dwarf, but he could never catch him without his belt, until one day he saw him fishing for salmon without the belt, and at the same time his sweetheart and her sister came by picking flowers.So the bear went up to the dwarf, and the dwarf, when he saw him coming, said:“Ah! good bear! good bear! let me go. These two girls will be a more dainty morsel for you.”But the bear smote him with his paw and killed him, and immediately the bear was turned into his former self, and the girls ran up and kissed him, and talked.Then he took the two girls to the dwarf’s cave, and gave each of them a bag of treasure, keeping one for himself. And taking the belt, he put it on, and they all walked back to the hamlet, when he told the fishermen that their troubles would soon be over—but that he must kill the witch first.Then he turned the belt three times, and said:“I wish for the queen fairy.”And she came, and was delighted, and said: “Now you must come and slay the witch,” and she handed him a bow and arrow, telling him to use it right and tight when he got to the hut.So he went off to the wood, and found the witch in her hut, and she begged for mercy.“Oh no, you have done too much mischief,” he said, and he shot her.Then the queen fairy appeared, and sent him to gather dry wood to make a fire. When the fire was made she sent him to fetch the witch’s wand, which she cast into the flames, saying:“Now, mark my word, all the devils of hell will be here.”And when the wand began to burn all the devils came and tried to snatch it from the fire, but the queen raised her wand, saying:  “Through this powerful wandthat I hold in my hand,Through this bow and arrowI have caused her to be slain,That she may leave our domain.Now take her up highinto the sky,And let her burst asunderas a clap of thunder.Then take her to helland there let her dwell,To all eternity.”And the wand was burnt, and the devils carried the witch off in a noise like thunder.The twelve months were up on that day, and the fairy said to the fisherman:“Take your chief and your brother, and put out to sea half-a-mile, where you’ll see a red spot, bright as the sun on the water; cast in your net on the sea-side of the spot, and pull to the shore.”They did as the queen commanded, and when they pulled the net on the shore they found the copper vessel.“Now open it,” said the queen to the fisherman with the belt, “but cover your belt with your coat first.”And he did so, and when he opened the copper a ball of smoke rose into the air, and suddenly the merman stood before them, and said:  “The first four months that I was in prison,I swore I’d make the man as rich as a king,The man who released me.But there was no release, no release, no release.  The second four months that I was in prison,I swore I’d make the water run red,But there was no release, no release, no release.  The last four months that I was in prison,I swore in my wrath I’d take my deliverer’s life,Whoever he might be.”Whereupon the fisherman opened his coat and showed him the belt.Then the merman immediately cooled down, and said:“Oh, that’s how I came into this trouble.”Then he asked the fisherman with the belt what had happened, and he told him the whole story.Then the queen told the fisherman to take the girdle off and put it back on the merman, and he did so; and suddenly the merman took to the sea, and began to sing from a rock:  “As I sit upon the rock,I am like a statue block,And I straighten my hair,That is so long and fair.And now my eyes look bright,For I am in great delight,Because I am free in glee,To roam over the sea.”After that the hamlet was joyful again, for the fishermen began to catch plenty of fish; for the merman showed them where to cast their nets, by colouring the water as of old.And the two brothers married the chief’s two beautiful daughters, and they lived happily ever afterwards.
Once upon a time there lived at Salerno a poor old woman who earned her bread by fishing, and whose only comfort and stay in life was her grandson, a boy twelve years of age, whose father had been drowned in a storm and whose mother had died of grief. Graceful, for this was the child’s name, loved nobody in the world but his grandmother; he followed her to the shore every morning before daybreak to pick up the shell-fish or draw the net to the beach, longing for the time when he should be strong enough to go to sea himself and brave the waves that had swallowed up all his kindred. He was so handsome, so well made, and so promising, that no sooner had he entered the town with his basket of fish on his head than every one ran after him, and he sold the whole before he reached the market.Unfortunately, the grandmother was very old; she had but one front tooth left, her head shook with age, and her eyes were dim. Every morning she found it harder to rise than the day before. Feeling that she had but a few days longer to live, at night, before Graceful wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down on the ground to sleep, she always gave him good counsels for him to follow when she was gone; she told him what fishermen to avoid, and how, by being good and industrious, prudent and resolute, he would make his way in the world and finally have a boat and nets of his own. The poor boy paid little heed to all this wisdom. As soon as his grandmother began to put on a grave air he threw his arms around her neck and cried: “Grandmamma, grandmamma, don’t leave me. I have hands, I am strong, I shall soon be able to work for us both; but if you were not here at night when I came home from fishing, what would become of me?”“My child,” said the old woman one day to him, “I shall not leave you so much alone as you think; when I am gone you will have two powerful protectors whom more than one prince might envy you. A long time ago I did a favor to two great ladies, who will not forget you when the time comes to call them, which will be very soon.”“Who are these two ladies?” asked Graceful, who had never seen any women but fishermen’s wives in the hut.“They are two fairies,” replied his grandmother—”two powerful fairies—the Fairy of the Woods and the Fairy of the Waters. Listen to me, my child; I am going to intrust you with a secret—a secret which you must keep as carefully as I have done, and which will give you wealth and happiness. Ten years ago, the same year that your father died and your mother also left us, I went out one morning before daybreak to surprise the crabs asleep in the sand. As I was stooping down, hidden by a rock, I saw a kingfisher slowly floating toward the beach. The kingfisher is a sacred bird which should always be respected; knowing this, I let it alight and did not stir, for fear of frightening it. At the same moment I saw a beautiful green adder come from a cleft of the mountain and crawl along the sand toward the bird. When they were near each other, without either seeming surprised at the meeting, the adder coiled itself around the neck of the kingfisher, as if tenderly embracing it; they remained thus entwined for a few moments, after which they suddenly separated, the adder to return to the rock, and the kingfisher to plunge into the waves which bore it away.“At night the grandmother always gave him good counsels for him to follow for when she was gone.” Illustration by Edward McCandlish, published in Laboulaye’s Fairy Book (1920), Harper.“Greatly astonished at what I had seen, I returned the next morning at the same hour, and at the same hour the kingfisher also alighted on the sands and the adder came from its retreat. There was no doubt that they were fairies, perhaps enchanted fairies, to whom I could render a service. But what was I to do? To show myself would have been to displease them and run into danger; it was better to wait for a favorable opportunity which chance would doubtless offer. For a whole month I lay in ambush, witnessing the same spectacle every morning, when one day I saw a huge black cat arrive first at the place of meeting and hide itself behind a rock, almost under my hand. A black cat could be nothing else than an enchanter, according to what I had learned in my childhood, and I resolved to watch him. Scarcely had the kingfisher and the adder embraced each other when, behold! the cat gathered itself up and sprang upon these innocents. It was my turn to throw myself upon the wretch, who already held his victims in his murderous claws; I seized him, despite his struggles, although he tore my hands in pieces, and without pity, knowing with whom I had to deal, I took the knife which I used to open shell-fish, and cut off the monster’s head, claws, and tail, confidently awaiting the success of my devotion.“I did not wait long; no sooner had I thrown the body of the animal into the sea than I saw before me two beautiful ladies, one crowned with white plumes, the other with a serpent’s skin thrown like a scarf across her shoulder. They were, as I have already told you, the Fairy of the Waters and the Fairy of the Woods, who, enchanted by a wretched genie who had learned their secret, had been forced to remain a kingfisher and an adder until freed by some generous hand, and who owed me their power and freedom.“‘Ask of us what you will,’ said they, ‘and your request shall be instantly granted.’“I reflected that I was old, and had suffered too much in life to wish to begin it anew, while the day would come, my child, when nothing would be too great for your desires; when you wish to be rich, noble—a general, a marquis, a prince, perhaps! When that day comes, thought I, I can give him everything, and a single moment of such happiness will repay me for eighty years of pain and misery. I thanked the fairies, therefore, and entreated them to keep their good will till the day when I should have need of it. The Fairy of the Waters took a small feather from her crown, and the Fairy of the Woods detached a scale from her scarf.“‘My good woman,’ said they, ‘when you wish for us, place this feather and this scale in a vessel of pure water and call on us, making a wish. Should we be at the end of the world, we will be at your side in an instant, ready to pay the debt we owe you.’“I bowed my head in token of gratitude. When I raised it all had vanished; even the wounds and blood had disappeared from my hands, and I should have thought that I had been dreaming, had not the scale of the serpent and the feather of the kingfisher remained in my hand.”“And where are these treasures, grandmamma?” asked Graceful.“My child, I have carefully concealed them,” answered the old woman, “not wishing to show them to you till you were a man and able to make use of them; but since death is about to separate us, the moment has come to give you these precious talismans. You will find at the back of the cupboard a wooden chest hidden under some rags; in the chest is a little pasteboard box, wound about with tow; open this box and you will find the scale and the feather carefully wrapped in cotton. Take care not to break them; handle them respectfully, and I will tell you what next to do.”Graceful brought the box to the poor woman, who was no longer able to quit her pallet, and she herself took from it the two articles.“Now,” said she, giving them to her grandson, “put a bowlful of water in the middle of the room; place the scale and the feather in the water, and make a wish—wish for fortune, nobility, wit, power, whatever you please; only, as I feel that I am dying, kiss me once more, my child, before speaking the words that will separate us forever, and receive my last blessing; it will be another talisman to bring you happiness.”But, to the old woman’s surprise, Graceful did not come near her, either to kiss her or to receive her blessing. He quickly placed the bowl in the middle of the room, threw the feather and scale into the water, and shouted at the top of his voice, “Appear, Fairy of the Waters! I wish that my grandmother may live forever. Appear, Fairy of the Woods! I wish that my grandmother may live forever.”And behold! the water bubbled, bubbled, bubbled; the bowl grew to a great basin, which the walls of the hut could scarcely hold, and from the bottom of the basin Graceful saw two beautiful young women rise, whom he knew directly from their wands to be fairies. One wore a crown of holly leaves mixed with red berries, and diamond ear-rings resembling acorns in their cups; she was dressed in a robe of olive green, over which a speckled skin was knotted like a scarf across the right shoulder—this was the Fairy of the Woods. As to the Fairy of the Waters, she wore a garland of reeds on her head, with a white robe trimmed with the feathers of aquatic birds, and a blue scarf, which now and then rose above her head and fluttered like the sail of a ship. Great ladies as they were, they looked smilingly at Graceful, who had taken refuge in his grandmother’s arms, and trembled with fear and admiration.“I will go, madam,” returned Graceful.“But you are very young, my child,” said the Fairy of the Woods, “and you do not even know the way.”“No matter,” replied Graceful. “I am sure, beautiful ladies, that you will not forsake me, and to save my grandmother I would go to the end of the world.”“Wait,” said the Fairy of the Woods. Then separating the lead from a broken window-pane, she placed it in the hollow of her hand.And behold! the lead began to melt and bubble without seeming to burn the fairy, who threw the metal on the hearth, where it cooled in a thousand different forms.“What do you see in all that?” said the fairy to Graceful.“It seems to me, madam,” said he, after looking attentively, “that I see a spaniel with a long tail and large ears.”“Call him,” said the fairy.A barking was instantly heard, and forth from the metal sprang a black and flame-colored spaniel, which began to gambol and leap around Graceful.“This will be your companion,” said the fairy. “His name is Fido. He will show you the way; but I warn you that it is for you to direct him, and not for him to lead you. If you make him obey, he will serve you; if you obey him, he will destroy you.”“And I,” said the Fairy of the Waters, “have I nothing to give you, my poor Graceful?”Then, looking around her, the lady saw on the ground a bit of paper, which she tossed into the fire with her tiny foot. The paper caught fire, and as soon as the blaze had died away thousands of little sparks were seen chasing one another about. The fairy watched these sparks with a curious eye; then, as the last one was about to go out, she blew upon the cinders, when, lo! the chirp of a bird was heard, and a swallow rose, which fluttered, terrified, about the room and finally alighted on Graceful’s shoulder.“This will be your companion,” said the Fairy of the Waters. “Her name is Pensive. She will show you the way; but I warn you it is for you to direct her, and not for her to lead you. If you make her obey, she will serve you; if you obey her, she will destroy you.”“Stir the black ashes,” added the good Fairy of the Waters, “and perhaps you will find something there.”Graceful obeyed. Under the ashes of the paper he found a vial of rock crystal, sparkling like a diamond. This, the fairy said, was to hold the water of immortality, which would break any vessel made by the hand of man. By the side of the vial Graceful found a dagger with a triangular blade—a very different thing from the stiletto of his father the fisherman, which he had been forbidden to touch. With this weapon he could brave the proudest enemy.“My sister, you shall not be more generous than I,” said the other fairy; then, taking a rush from the only chair in the room, she blew upon it, when, lo! the rush instantly swelled, and in less time than it takes to tell it became a beautiful musket, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. A second rush produced a cartridge-box, which Graceful slung around his body and which became him marvelously. One would have thought him a prince setting out for the chase; he was so handsome that his grandmother wept for joy and emotion.It was late. Graceful threw himself on the ground, too agitated, it seemed, to sleep. But slumber soon overtook him, and he slept soundly all night, while his poor grandmother watched the face of her dear child lighted by the flickering lamp, and did not weary of mournfully admiring him.It was late. Graceful threw himself on the ground, too agitated, it seemed, to sleep. But slumber soon overtook him, and he slept soundly all night, while his poor grandmother watched the face of her dear child lighted by the flickering lamp, and did not weary of mournfully admiring him.Early in the morning, when dawn was scarcely breaking, the swallow began to twitter, and Fido to pull the blankets. “Let us go, master—let us go,” said the two companions, in their language, which Graceful understood by the gift of the fairies; “the tide is already rising on the beach, the birds are singing, the flies are humming, and the flowers are opening in the sun. Let us go; it is time.”Graceful kissed his grandmother for the last time, and took the road to Pæstum, Pensive fluttering to the right and the left in pursuit of the flies, and Fido fawning on his young master or running before him.They had gone two leagues from the town when Graceful saw Fido talking with the ants, who were marching in regular troops, carrying all their provisions with them.“Where are you going?” asked he.“To the Castle of Life,” they answered.To go straight forward does not suit the taste of butterflies, and Graceful’s friend was constantly losing himself among the grass. Graceful, who had never been free in his life, nor had seen so many flowers and so much sunshine, followed all the windings of his companion, and troubled himself no more about the day than if it were never to end; but, after a few leagues’ journey his new friend began to be weary.“Don’t go any farther,” said he to Graceful. “See how beautiful is this landscape, how fragrant these flowers, and how balmy these fields. Let us stay here; this is life.”“Let us go on,” said Fido; “the day is long, and we are only at the beginning.”“Let us go on,” said Pensive; “the sky is clear and the horizon unbounded. Let us go on.”Toward noon the grasshoppers stopped in turn. “Let us rest,” said they; “the heat will overpower us if we struggle against the noonday sun. It is so pleasant to live in sweet repose! Come, Graceful, we will divert you and you shall sing with us.”“Listen to them,” said Pensive; “they sing so sweetly!” But Fido would not stop; his blood seemed on fire, and he barked so furiously that Graceful forgot the grasshoppers to follow his importunate companion.At evening Graceful met the honey-bee loaded with booty. “Where are you going?” said he.“I am returning home,” said the bee; “I shall not quit my hive.”“What!” rejoined Graceful; “industrious as you are, will you do like the grasshoppers and renounce your share in immortality?”“Your castle is too far off,” returned the bee. “I have not your ambition. My daily labor suffices for me; I care nothing for your travels; to me work is life.”The next morning, at daybreak, Pensive called her young master.“Let us go,” said she; “the tide is already rising on the shore, the birds are singing, the bees are humming, and the flowers are opening in the sun. Let us go; it is time.”“Wait a moment,” said Fido. “The day’s journey is not long; before noon we shall be in sight of the temples of Pæstum, where we are to stop for the night.”“The ants are already on the way,” returned Pensive; “the road is harder than yesterday, and the weather more uncertain. Let us go.”Graceful had seen his grandmother smiling on him in his dreams, and he set out on his way with even greater ardor than the day before. The morning was glorious; on the right the blue waves broke with a gentle murmur on the strand; on the left, in the distance, the mountains were tinged with a roseate hue; the plain was covered with tall grass sprinkled with flowers; the road was lined with aloes, jujubes, and acanthuses, and before them lay a cloudless horizon. Graceful, ravished with hope and pleasure, fancied himself already at the end of his journey. Fido bounded over the fields and chased the frightened partridges; Pensive soared in the air and sported with the light. All at once Graceful saw a beautiful doe in the midst of the reeds, looking at him with languishing eyes as if she were calling him. He went toward her; she bounded forward, but only a little way. Three times she repeated the same trick, as if to allure him on.“Let us follow her,” said Fido. “I will cut off the way and we will soon catch her.”“Where is Pensive?” said Graceful.“What does it matter?” replied Fido; “it is the work of an instant. Trust to me—I was born for the chase—and the doe is ours.”Graceful did not let himself be bid twice. While Fido made a circuit he ran after the doe, which paused among the trees as if to suffer herself to be caught, then bounded forward as soon as the hand of the pursuer touched her. “Courage, master!” cried Fido, as he came upon her. But with a toss of the head, the doe flung the dog in the air, and fled swifter than the wind.“Alas! master,” said Fido, “the fairy was right in advising you not to follow me. We have acted foolishly and I have destroyed you.”“At all events,” said Graceful, “we will defend our lives”; and, taking his musket, he double-loaded it, in readiness for the King of the Wolves; then, somewhat calmed, he examined the deep ditch into which he had fallen. It was too high for him to escape from it; in this hole he must await his death. Fido understood the look of his friend.“Master,” said he, “if you take me in your arms and throw me with all your might, perhaps I can reach the top; and, once there, I can help you.”Graceful had not much hope. Three times he endeavored to throw Fido, and three times the poor animal fell back; finally, at the fourth effort, he caught hold of some roots, and aided himself so well with his teeth and paws that he escaped from the tomb. He instantly threw into the ditch the boughs which he found about the edge.“Master,” said he, “plant these branches in the earth and make yourself a ladder. Quick! quick!” he added. “I hear the howls of the King of the Wolves.”Graceful was adroit and agile. Anger redoubled his strength; in a moment he was outside. Then he secured his dagger in his belt, changed the powder in the pan of his musket, and, placing himself behind a tree, awaited the enemy with firmness.Suddenly a frightful cry was heard, and an animal, with tusks like those of the wild boar, rushed on him with prodigious bounds. Graceful took aim and fired. The bullet hit the mark and the animal fell back howling, but instantly sprang forward anew. “Load your musket again! Make haste!” cried Fido, springing courageously in the face of the monster and seizing his throat with his teeth.The wolf had only to shake his head to fling the poor dog to the ground. He would have swallowed him at one mouthful had not Fido glided from his jaws, leaving one of his ears behind. It was Graceful’s turn to save his companion; he boldly advanced and fired his second shot, taking aim at the shoulder. The wolf fell; but, rising, with a last effort he threw himself on the hunter, who fell under him. On receiving this terrible shock, Graceful thought himself lost; but without losing courage, and calling the good fairies to his aid, he seized his dagger and thrust it into the heart of the animal, which, ready to devour his enemy, straightened his limbs and died.Graceful rose, covered with blood and froth, and seated himself, trembling, upon a fallen tree. Fido crept painfully to his feet, without daring to caress him, for he felt how much he was to blame.“Master,” said he, “what will become of us? Night is approaching and we are so far from Pæstum!”“We must go,” said the child, and he rose; but he was so weak that he was obliged to sit down again. A burning thirst devoured him; he was feverish and everything whirled before his eyes. He thought of his grandmother, and began to weep. What was poor Graceful’s remorse for having so soon forgotten such fair promises, and condemned himself to die in a country from which there was no return, and all this for the bright eyes of a doe! How sadly ended the day so well begun!Sinister howls were soon heard; the brothers of the King of the Wolves were calling him and coming to his aid. Graceful embraced Fido, his only friend, and forgave him the imprudence for which they were both about to pay with their lives; then loaded his musket, offered up a prayer to the good fairies, commended his grandmother to them, and prepared to die.“Graceful! Graceful! where are you?” cried a little voice that could be none other than Pensive’s, and the swallow alighted on the head of her master.“Courage!” said she; “the wolves are still far off. There is a spring close by where you can quench your thirst and stanch your bleeding wounds, and I have found a hidden path which will lead us to Pæstum.”Graceful and Fido dragged themselves along to the brook, trembling with hope and fear; then entered the obscure path, a little reanimated by the soft twittering of Pensive. The sun had set; they walked in the twilight for some hours, and, when the moon rose, they were out of danger. They had still to journey over a painful and dangerous road for those who no longer had the ardor of the morning. There were marshes to cross, ditches to leap, and thickets to break through, which tore Graceful’s face and hands; but at the thought that he could still repair his fault and save his grandmother his heart was so light that his strength redoubled at every step with his hope. At last, after a thousand obstacles, they reached Pæstum just as the stars marked midnight.Graceful threw himself on the pavement of the temple of Neptune, and, after thanking Pensive, fell asleep, with Fido at his feet, wounded, bleeding, and silent.The sleep was not long. Graceful was up before daybreak, which seemed long in coming. On descending the steps of the temple he saw the ants, who had raised a heap of sand and were bringing grain from the new harvest. The whole republic was in motion. The ants were all going or coming, talking to their neighbors, and receiving or giving orders; some were dragging wisps of straw, others were carrying bits of wood, others conveying away dead flies, and others heaping up provisions; it was a complete winter establishment.“What!” said Graceful to the ants, “are you not going to the Castle of Life? Do you renounce immortality?”“We have worked long enough,” answered one of the laborers; “the time for harvest has come. The road is long and the future uncertain, and we are rich. Let fools count on to-morrow; the wise man uses to-day. When a person has hoarded riches honestly it is true philosophy to enjoy them.”Fido thought that the ant was right; but, as he no longer dared advise, he contented himself with shaking his head as they set out. Pensive, on the contrary, said that the ant was a selfish fellow, and that, if life were made only for enjoyment, the butterfly was wiser than he. At the same time, and with a lighter wing than ever, the swallow soared upward to lead the way.Graceful walked on in silence. Ashamed of the follies of the day before, although he still regretted the doe, he resolved that on the third day nothing should turn him aside from the road. Fido, with his mutilated ear, limped after his master and seemed not less dreamy than he. At noon they sought for a shady place in which to rest for a few moments. The sun was less scorching than the day before. It seemed as if both country and season had changed. The road lay through meadows lately mown for the second time, or beautiful vineyards full of grapes, and was lined with great fig-trees laden with fruit, in which thousands of insects were humming; golden clouds were floating in the horizon, the air was soft and gentle, and everything tempted to repose.In the most beautiful of the meadows, by the side of a brook which diffused its coolness afar, Graceful saw a herd of buffaloes chewing the cud under the shade of the ashes and plane-trees. They were lazily stretched on the ground, in a circle around a large bull that seemed their chief and king. Graceful approached them, and was received with politeness. They invited him by a nod to be seated, and pointed out to him great bowls full of milk and cheese. Our traveler admired the calmness and gravity of these peaceful and powerful animals, which seemed like so many Roman senators in their curule chairs. The gold ring which they wore in their noses added still more to the majesty of their aspect. Graceful, who felt calmer and more sedate than the day before, thought, in spite of himself, how pleasant it would be to live in the midst of this peace and plenty; if happiness were anywhere, it must surely be found here.Fido shared his master’s opinion. It was the season of the southward migration of the quails; the ground was covered with tired birds, resting to regain strength before crossing the sea, and Fido had only to stoop down to find game worthy of a prince. Satiated with eating, he stretched himself at Graceful’s feet and slept soundly.When the buffaloes had finished chewing their cud, Graceful, who had hitherto feared to disturb them, entered into conversation with the bull, who showed a cultivated mind and wide experience.“Are you the masters of this rich domain?” asked he.“No,” replied the old buffalo; “we belong, with all the rest, to the Fairy Crapaudine, the Queen of the Vermilion Towers, the richest of all the fairies.”“What does she require of you?” asked Graceful.“Nothing, except to wear this gold ring in the nose and to pay her a tribute of milk,” returned the bull, “or, at most, to give her one of our children from time to time to regale her guests. At this price we enjoy our plenty in perfect security, and we have no reason to envy any on earth, for none are so happy as we.”“Have you never heard of the Castle of Life and the Fountain of Immortality?” asked Graceful, who, without knowing why, blushed as he put the question.“There were some old men among our ancestors who still talked of these visions,” replied the bull; “but we are wiser than our fathers; we know that there is no other happiness than to chew the cud and sleep.”Graceful rose sadly to resume his journey, and asked what were those reddish square towers which he saw in the distance.“They are the Vermilion Towers,” returned the bull; “they bar the way; and you must pass through the castle of the Fairy Crapaudine in order to continue your road. You will see the fairy, my young friend, and she will offer you hospitality and riches. Take my advice and do like those that have gone before you, all of whom accepted the favors of our mistress, and found that they had done well to abandon their dreams in order to live happy.”“And what became of them?” asked Graceful.“They became buffaloes like us,” rejoined the bull, who, not having finished his afternoon nap, closed his eyes and fell asleep.Graceful started and awakened Fido, who rose, grumbling. He called Pensive. Pensive did not answer; she was talking with a spider that had spun a great web between the branches of an ash-tree, which was glittering in the sun, full of flies. “Why take this long journey?” said the spider to the swallow. “What is the use of changing your climate and putting your life at the mercy of the sea, the weather, or a master? Look at me; I depend on nobody, and have everything for myself. I am my own mistress; I enjoy my art and genius; I bring the world to me; nothing can disturb either my calculations, or a serenity which I owe to myself alone.”Graceful called Pensive three times without making her hear, so completely was she engrossed in admiration of her new friend. Every instant some giddy fly fell into the web, and each time the spider, like an attentive hostess, offered the prey to her astonished companion, when suddenly a breeze passed—a breeze so light that it did not ruffle a feather of the swallow’s wing. Pensive looked for the spider; the web had been swept away by the winds, and the poor insect was clinging by one foot to the last thread, when a bird seized it and bore it away.Setting out again on their way, they proceeded in silence to the palace of Crapaudine. Graceful was introduced with great ceremony by two beautiful greyhounds, caparisoned with purple and wearing on their necks broad collars sparkling with rubies. After crossing a great number of halls, all full of pictures, statues, gold, and silver, and coffers overflowing with money and jewels, Graceful and his companions entered a circular temple, which was Crapaudine’s drawing-room. The walls were of lapis-lazuli, and the ceiling, of sky-blue enamel, was supported by twelve chiseled pillars of massive gold, with capitals of acanthus leaves of white enamel edged with gold. A huge frog, as large as a rabbit, was seated in a velvet easy-chair. It was the fairy of the place. The charming Crapaudine was draped in a scarlet mantle covered with glittering spangles, and wore on her head a ruby diadem whose luster lighted up her fat cheeks mottled with green and yellow. As soon as she perceived Graceful she extended to him her fingers, covered with rings, which the poor boy was obliged respectfully to raise to his lips as he bowed.“My friend,” said the fairy to him, in a hoarse voice, which she vainly tried to soften, “I was expecting you, and I will not be less generous to you than my sisters have been. On the way here you have seen but a small part of my riches. This palace, with its pictures, its statues, and its coffers full of gold, these vast domains, and these innumerable flocks, all may be yours if you wish; it depends only on yourself to become the richest and happiest of men.”“What must I do for this?” asked Graceful, greatly excited.“Less than nothing,” replied the fairy; “chop me up into little pieces and eat me. It is not a very disagreeable thing to do,” added Crapaudine, looking at Graceful with eyes redder than usual.“Can I not season you, at least?” said Graceful, who had been unable to look without envy at the beautiful gardens of the fairy.“No, you must eat me without seasoning; but walk about my palace, see and handle all my treasures, and reflect that, by giving me this proof of devotion, they will all be yours.”“Master,” sighed Fido, in a supplicating voice, “a little courage! We are so comfortable here!”Pensive said nothing, but her silence was consent. As to Graceful, who remembered the buffaloes and the gold ring, he distrusted the fairy. Crapaudine perceived it.“Do not think, my dear Graceful, that I wish to deceive you,” she said. “In offering you all that I possess, I also demand of you a service which I will reward as it deserves. When you have done what I propose I shall become a young girl, as beautiful as Venus, except that my hands and feet will remain like those of a frog, which is very little when one is rich. Ten princes, twenty marquises, and thirty counts have already begged me to marry them as I am; when I become a woman, I will give you the preference, and we will enjoy my vast fortune together. Do not blush for your poverty; you have about you a treasure that is worth all mine, the vial which my sister gave you.” Saying this, she stretched out her slimy fingers to seize the talisman.“Never!” cried Graceful, shrinking back, “never! I wish neither repose nor fortune; I wish to quit this place and to go to the Castle of Life.”“You shall never go there!” exclaimed the fairy, in a rage. The castle instantly disappeared, a circle of fire surrounded Graceful, and an invisible clock began to strike midnight. At the first stroke the child started; at the second, without hesitating, he plunged headlong into the flames. To die for his grandmother seemed to him the only means of showing his love and repentance.To Graceful’s surprise, the flames parted without touching him, and he suddenly found himself in a new country, with his two companions by his side. This country was no longer Italy, but Russia, the end of the earth. He was wandering on a mountain covered with snow. Around him he saw nothing but great trees, coated with hoar-frost and dripping water from all their branches; a damp and penetrating mist chilled him to the bones; the moist earth sank under his feet; and, to crown his wretchedness, it was necessary to descend a steep precipice, at the bottom of which a torrent was breaking noisily over the rocks. Graceful took his dagger and cut a branch from a tree to support his faltering steps. Fido, with his tail between his legs, barked feebly; and Pensive, her ruffled feathers covered with icicles, clung to her master’s shoulder. The poor bird was half dead, but she encouraged Graceful and did not complain.“Master,” said Fido, “I can go no farther. Accursed be the fairy that drew me from nothingness to place me in your service.” Saying this, he lay down on the ground and would not stir. Graceful vainly tried to restore his courage, and called him his companion and friend. All that the poor dog could do was to answer his master’s caresses for the last time by wagging his tail and licking his hands; then his limbs stiffened and he expired.Graceful took Fido on his back in order to carry him to the Castle of Life, and boldly climbed one of the icebergs, still followed by Pensive. With his staff he pushed this frail bark into the middle of the current, which bore it away with frightful rapidity.“Master,” said Pensive, “do you hear the roaring of the waters? We are floating toward a whirlpool which will swallow us up! Give me a last caress and farewell!”“No,” said Graceful. “Why should the fairies have deceived us? The shore may be close by; perhaps the sun is shining behind the clouds. Mount, mount, my good Pensive; perchance above the fog you will find light and will see the Castle of Life!”Graceful started up, placed the poor bird that had sacrificed itself for him next his heart, and, with superhuman ardor, urged the iceberg on to safety or destruction. Suddenly he heard the roaring of the breakers. He fell on his knees and closed his eyes, awaiting death.A wave like a mountain broke over his head and cast him fainting on the shore, which no living person had touched before him.When Graceful recovered his senses, the ice, clouds, and darkness had disappeared. He was lying on the ground in the midst of a charming country, covered with trees bathed in a soft light. In front of him was a beautiful castle, from which bubbled a brook that flowed into a sea as blue, calm, and transparent as the sky. Graceful looked about him; he was alone—alone with the remains of his two companions, which the waves had washed on the shore. Exhausted with suffering and excitement, he dragged himself to the brook and bent over the water to refresh his parched lips, when he shrank back with affright. It was not his face that he saw in the water, but that of an old man with silvery locks who strongly resembled him. He turned round; there was no one behind him. He again drew near the fountain; he saw the old man, or rather, doubtless, the old man was himself. “Great fairies,” he cried. “I understand you. If it is my life that you wish in exchange for that of my grandmother, I joyfully accept the sacrifice.” And without troubling himself further about his old age and wrinkles, he plunged his head into the water and drank eagerly.On rising, he was astonished to see himself again as he was when he left home, only more beautiful, with blacker hair and brighter eyes than ever. He picked up his hat, which had fallen near the spring, and which a drop of water had touched by chance, when what was his surprise to see the butterfly that he had pinned to it fluttering its wings and seeking to fly. He gave it its liberty, and ran to the beach for Fido and Pensive, then plunged them both into the blessed fountain. Pensive flew upward with a joyful cry and disappeared amid the turrets of the castle. Fido, shaking the water from both ears, ran to the kennels of the palace, where he was met by magnificent watch-dogs, which, instead of barking and growling at the new-comer, welcomed him joyfully like an old friend. Graceful had at last found the Fountain of Immortality, or rather the brook that flowed from it—a brook already greatly weakened, and which only gave two or three hundred years of life to those that drank of it; but nothing prevented them from drinking anew.Graceful filled his vial with this life-giving water and approached the palace. His heart beat, for a last trial remained. So near success, he feared the more to fail. He mounted the steps of the castle. All was closed and silent; no one was there to receive the traveler. When he had reached the last step and was about to knock at the door, a voice, rather gentle than harsh, stopped him.“Have you loved?” said the invisible voice.“Yes,” answered Graceful; “I have loved my grandmother better than any one in the world.”The door opened a little way.“Have you suffered for her whom you have loved?” resumed the voice.“I have suffered,” replied Graceful; “much through my own fault, doubtless, but a little for her whom I wished to save.”The door opened half-way and the child caught a glimpse of woods, waters, and a sky more beautiful than anything of which he had ever dreamed.“Have you always done your duty?” said the voice, in a harsher tone.“Alas! no,” replied Graceful, falling on his knees; “but when I have failed I have been punished by my remorse even more than by the hard trials through which I have passed. Forgive me, and punish me as I deserve, if I have not yet expiated all my faults; but save her whom I love—save my grandmother.”The door instantly opened wide, though Graceful saw no one. Intoxicated with joy, he entered a courtyard surrounded with arbors embowered in foliage, with a fountain in the midst, spouting from a tuft of flowers larger, more beautiful, and more fragrant than any he had seen on earth. By the side of the spring stood a woman dressed in white, of noble bearing, and seemingly not more than forty years old. She advanced to meet Graceful, and smiled on him so sweetly that the child felt himself touched to the heart, and his eyes filled with tears.“Don’t you know me?” said the woman.“Oh, grandmother! is it you?” he exclaimed. “How came you in the Castle of Life?”“My child,” said she, pressing him to her heart, “He who brought me here is an enchanter more powerful than the fairies of the woods and the waters. I shall never more return to Salerno. I shall receive my reward here for the little good I have done by tasting a happiness which time will not destroy.”“And me, grandmother!” cried Graceful, “what shall become of me? After seeing you here, how can I return to suffer alone?”“My dear child,” she replied, “no one can live on earth after he has caught a glimpse of the celestial delights of this abode. You have lived, my dear Graceful; life has nothing more to teach you. You have passed in four days through the desert where I languished eighty years, and henceforth nothing can separate us.”The door closed, and from that time nothing was heard of Graceful or his grandmother. It was in vain that search was made for the palace and enchanted fountain; they were never more discovered on earth. But if we understood the language of the stars, if we felt what their gentle rays tell us every evening, we should long ago have learned from them where to look for the Castle of Life and the Fountain of Immortality.
Against a robber fox, a treeSome turkeys served as citadel.That villain, much provoked to seeEach standing there as sentinel,Cried out, “Such witless birdsAt me stretch out their necks, and gobble!No, by the powers! I’ll give them trouble.”He verified his words.The moon, that shined full on the oak,Seem’d then to help the turkey folk.But fox, in arts of siege well versed,Ransack’d his bag of tricks accursed.He feign’d himself about to climb;Walk’d on his hinder legs sublime;Then death most aptly counterfeited,And seem’d anon resuscitated.A practiser of wizard artsCould not have fill’d so many parts.In moonlight he contrived to raiseHis tail, and make it seem a blaze:And countless other tricks like that.Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat.Their constant vigilance at length,As hoped the fox, wore out their strength.Bewilder’d by the rigs he run,They lost their balance one by one.As Renard slew, he laid aside,Till nearly half of them had died;Then proudly to his larder bore,And laid them up, an ample store.A foe, by being over-heeded,Has often in his plan succeeded.
In the Springtime a certain King pitched his tent in a flowery meadow tract, among shady trees and near a gurgling brook. There came from the village three sisters, maidens of marriageable age, to gather flowers and edible vegetables. At noon-time they sat down on the bank of the crystal brook, not far from the royal tent, and began to prattle.“If the King takes me in marriage for his eldest son,” said the oldest maiden, “I will weave for him a tent so big that it will accommodate all his army, and yet one-half of it will be empty.”“If the King takes me in marriage for his second son,” said the second maiden, “I will weave for him a rug so big that it will accommodate all his court and the people of his realm, and yet half of it will be left empty.”“I will not brag,” said the youngest sister; “but if the King takes me in marriage for his youngest son, and if it pleases Heaven, I will give birth to twins,—a silver-haired boy and a golden-haired girl.”The two older maidens laughed at their young sister and ridiculed her. The King, who was listening to the talk of the maidens from behind the arras, was pleased with them and gave all three in marriage to his three sons. One day he asked of the oldest sister:“Where is the tent which you were going to weave?”“It was only vain prattle we sisters were indulging in,” said she.“Where is your rug?” inquired the King of the second sister.“It was merely idle talk,” replied she.“And where are your twins?” asked he of the youngest sister.“If it pleases Heaven I will bear them in the fulness of time,” replied she.The older sisters became very envious of their younger sister and they vowed to be revenged, for now the love and caresses of the whole court seemed to be bestowed upon her. One night there came to the arms of the youngest sister the promised silver-haired boy and golden-haired girl. The envious sisters immediately took the babies away and put them into a chest which they threw into the river. Bringing a pair of puppies, they placed them by the bedside of the young mother. Then they went to the young Prince and informed him that his beloved wife was mother to the two puppies. The young Prince was horror-stricken. The King was mad with rage. He ordered his servants to wrap the young woman in a camel’s hide and put her in the corner by the palace door, so that every one who entered the palace might spit in her face, for her base conduct in thus bringing shame upon those who had loved and favored her. The King’s order was at once put into execution.It so happened that there was an old man and his wife living in a hut on the banks of the river on the outskirts of the city. The old man used to cast his nets into the river every day and catch two fish, one for himself and one for his wife. On that day he threw his net for fish, and lo! a chest was drawn out. He took it to his hut where he and his wife opening it saw that there was in it a pair of pretty babies. The silver-haired boy had put his thumb into the mouth of the golden-haired girl, and the girl had put her thumb into the mouth of the boy. So they were sucking one another’s thumbs and were not crying at all. The aged couple looked upon them with great joy and said:“Thank Heaven! We were till now without offspring, and lo! Heaven has now granted us twins.”The old dame washed the babies, and lo! gold and silver fell down from their hair. She said to her husband,—“Now, husband, get up and take this gold and silver to the mart and buy for us a cow that we may feed the babies with milk.”The old man went, and with that silver and gold bought not only a cow, but a great many other things necessary for the twins, who were brought up with great care and kindness, although in an obscure hut. The children grew rapidly and became a great comfort to the aged couple. The boy grew to be a brave lad and became a hunter, and the girl grew to be a beautiful, intelligent maiden. The aged couple, following the course of the world, died when the children were quite young. The girl had only once heard from the old woman that they were fished from the river in a chest, and that the despised woman in the King’s palace door was their mother, whom the King’s two daughters-in-law had put in that position by falsehood. After the death of their benefactors, the sister and brother continued to live in the hut. The lad went hunting, and the maiden used to visit the court, for the purpose of seeing their mother; but, following the advice of her deceased godmother, she did not let herself be known, lest mischief should befall herself and her brother. She learned, however, all that was going on in the royal palace. One day the lad hunted for an antelope and found a fine one, which he secured.“This is worthy of the King,” said the lad, and took it to the palace. The King was very much pleased. On another day he shot a lion, whose skin he took to the King, who said to him:“Good for you, my little hunter! Come to-morrow to the palace again; I will praise you before my men.”The lad came home and told his sister that he was invited to the palace by the King.“Good!” said the maiden; “take this bouquet with you. When you enter the King’s palace you will see there, in a corner, a woman wrapped in the hide of a camel, and buried in the dust up to her waist. All who enter the door spit in her face; for my sake, do throw this bunch of roses to her as you pass by her.”“All right,” said the lad; and on the following day, as he was entering the palace, he threw the bunch of roses to the despised woman. He then entered the King’s apartment, where both the King and the courtiers were very much pleased with him. His manly bearing and intelligent conversation were the subject of general admiration. But the King’s two daughters-in-law were very much displeased with the little hunter, who threw a bunch of roses to their disgraced sister instead of spitting at her. They thought there was something at the bottom of the lad’s conduct, and said to one another:“Let us find out some means of getting rid of this urchin, lest our secret should leak out.”As they had great influence with the King and the court, they went to the King and said:“Long live the King! You see that this lad is an expert hunter; he has brought you a lion’s hide; but it shall be useless as long as there is only one. Send him to bring a dozen more lions’ skins with which to adorn the new palace.”The King liked this suggestion and sent the lad to bring him a dozen lions’ skins. The lad came home and told his sister, who said to him:“Brother, when our godmother died she told me that we had an aunt living somewhere among the rocks of yonder Black Mountains. In case some difficult task was imposed upon us by the court we might go to our aunt, who would always be glad to help us. So you had better go to her; she will show you how to hunt twelve lions.”The lad started towards the Black Mountains. There, in a deep cavern, he saw an old fairy woman sitting. He ran to her and at once kissed her hand.“Halloo!” exclaimed the old dame, “is it you, silver-haired twin?”“Aye, auntie, it is I,” answered the lad.“And how does your golden-haired sister thrive?” the fairy woman asked.“She humbly kisses both of your hands, auntie,” said the lad.“And what have you come for, my boy?” inquired the fairy dame.“The King wants from me a dozen lions’ skins,” answered the lad.“Well then, come and hide you under my apron till your forty cousins come,” said the old woman, hiding the lad in the folds of her skirts.Soon the forty fairies, the sons of the old dame, came, and smelling the lad, exclaimed:“How now, mother! have you prepared for us a meal of human meat to-day?”“No, sons,” answered the dame, “unless you are so cruel as to eat your own human cousin.”“Where is he, mother?” inquired the forty, “we will not hurt him, but talk to him.”The lad came out from under the apron of his fairy aunt.The forty brothers were very much pleased with him and kissed him by turns. Then they asked him about his errand, and when the lad told them, they said:“That is nothing, cousin, we will give you twelve lions’ skins which we are now using as quilts and replace them with new ones to-morrow.”They gave the lad the lions’ skins to carry to the King, also a tent as a present to his golden-haired sister. The lad came home, and giving the tent to his sister, took the skins to the King, who was highly pleased with them. But the two women were more uneasy now than ever, and asked the King to send the lad to bring seven pairs of elephants’ tusks, in order to decorate the new palace with ivory. The King, not knowing that the intention of the wicked women was to destroy the youth, sent him to bring the ivory. The lad went again to his fairy cousins and told his errand.“Cousin,” said the forty brothers, “we can bring you seven pairs of elephants’ tusks, but you must bring us a saw, and seven horse-loads of seven-year-old wine.”The lad went back to the city, and getting the saw and seven skinfuls of old wine, loaded them on seven horses and brought them to the fairies, who took them to the pool which was the elephants’ watering-place. They emptied the water from the pool and filled it with wine. At night the elephants came to drink, and not knowing that it was wine, they soon were drunken and fell down senseless. Thereupon the fairies cut off their tusks and brought them to the lad. Besides this they gave him also a rug as a present for the golden-haired maiden. The lad came home, and giving the rug to his sister, he took the ivory to the King, who was very much pleased with it. But the King’s two daughters-in-law were very angry at the lad’s success, and went again to the King, saying:“Long live the King! The new palace is very nicely decorated with lions’ skins and ivory, but it has one deficiency, and that is a beautiful mistress to dwell in it. The King of India’s daughter must live there. Her beauty is unequalled in the world. And as your youngest son is without a wife, she will be his wife. Send the little hunter to bring her.”The King was persuaded and sent the lad on the errand. The youth again went to his fairy cousins, who kidnaped and brought the daughter of the King of India safely, and gave her to the lad. They gave to him also a table, which was served by itself, as a present. He fell in love with the maiden at first sight; she also fell in love with the lad. But as he had promised to take her to the King, he did so. The King ordered him to take the maiden to the new palace, and invited the lad who was the hero of so many great deeds to a private banquet at the palace. The two wicked women, seeing that they could not destroy the lad by sending him on difficult errands, were mad with anger. The lad went home and told his sister that the King had invited him for the following day.“Brother,” said the maiden, “when you go to-morrow to the King’s palace, take your hound with you. Let it go before you, and you step only wherever it has stepped. And when you eat, first give your dog to eat of the meat. If you see it has not hurt him, you may eat of the meat; but if he dies, be careful not to eat, lest you die also.”On the following day the lad did as the maiden had advised him and sent the dog before him. Just under the threshold of the door there was a deep pit dug which was discovered by the dog’s walking before him, and he avoided it. Entering in, he cast the bouquet which his sister had given him to the woman in the dust. And when he was called to the table he gave a piece of the food to the dog, and lo! it died at once. Thereupon he withdrew, saying:“I am not hungry to-day. I had my meal before I came.”He refused to touch any of the food, in spite of the polite entreaties of the King’s two daughters-in-law. Then in his interview with the King he asked his majesty to accept his invitation and come to his humble home for dinner, with all the court. The King, who by this time had become very much fascinated with the appearance of the youth, accepted his invitation. In the evening the lad came home and told his sister what had happened.“Do you know who digged the pit under the threshold?” asked the maiden.“Who?” said the lad.“The King’s two daughters-in-law,” said the maiden, “in order that you might fall into it and be killed.”“But they were so friendly and polite,” said the lad.“And do you know why your dog died?” inquired the maiden.“Why?” said the lad.“The King’s two daughters-in-law had poisoned the food, in order to kill you,” said the maiden.“Strange!” exclaimed the lad, “what have I done to them?”“And do you know who the woman is who is buried in the dust and to whom you have given bunches of roses while all others spat at her?” asked the maiden.“Oh! her lot is most pitiful; for Heaven’s sake tell me who she is,” said the lad.“She is our mother, the one who gave us our existence,” said she.“How! how!” exclaimed the lad, impatiently.The maiden told him everything. She also told him that it was their cruel aunts who, wanting to destroy him, had persuaded the King to send him on dangerous errands. Then sister and brother planned how to entertain the King on the following day. They at first pitched the tent sent by the fairies, and lo! it was so large that a whole kingdom could be entertained in it. Then they stretched the rug, and lo! it was as large as the tent. Then they put in the middle of it the wishing-table, which served as much and as many kinds of food as one desires. On the following day the King with all the court and the army came, and seeing the tent the King said to himself:“Aha! this is the tent that my oldest daughter-in-law would weave.”Entering in, he saw the immense rug, and he said to himself:“This is the rug which my second daughter-in-law was boasting about.”All his army was entertained and there was still room for as many more people. The King fell into deep meditation and thought there must be something at the bottom of it all. The foods served from the wishing-table were so various and delicious that the King was very much pleased, and at the end of the banquet, while all the crowd was listening, he said to the twins:“Ask of me whatever you want, and I will give it to you, even to the half of my kingdom.”“Is there anything more precious than father and mother?” said the twins; “mighty King, give us our father and mother.”“Although I am a King,” said the King, “do not forget that I am human. Is it possible that a human being should give you your lost parents?”“How is it,” said the twins, “that you believe that a human being can give birth to dogs, and you do not believe a human being to be able to restore lost parents? If one is true, the other also must be true.”A thunderbolt suddenly falling from the sky would not have frightened the King’s two daughters-in-law as much as did these words.“What do you mean?” said the King, with a trembling voice.The twins told him their story, at the end of which the lad took off his cap, displaying his silver hair; and the maiden took off her head-dress, letting fall her rich golden locks. Thereupon the King embraced his grandchildren, weeping loudly because of great joy. Then they embraced the Prince, their father, and their dear, wronged mother, who was immediately released from her disgraceful punishment. The King at once ordered the furnace to be heated to seven times the usual heat, and the two wicked women were thrown into the fire. Then a wedding was celebrated for forty days and nights and the lad was married to the daughter of the King of India, whom he had brought to the palace.Thus Heaven rewarded the good and punished the evil.Three apples fell from heaven; one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.
Have you ever seen an old wooden cabinet, quite worn black with age, and decorated with all sorts of carved figures and flourishes?One like this stood in a certain parlor. It was a gift from the great-grandmother, and was covered from top to bottom with carved roses and tulips. The most curious flourishes were on it, too; and between them peered forth little stags’ heads, with their zigzag antlers. On the door panel had been carved the entire figure of a man, a most ridiculous man to look at, for he grinned—you could not call it smiling or laughing—in the drollest way. Moreover, he had crooked legs, little horns upon his forehead, and a long beard.The children used to call him the “crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant,” which was a long, hard name to pronounce. Very few there are, whether in wood or in stone, who could get such a title. Surely to have cut him out in wood was no easy job. However, there he was. His eyes were always fixed upon the table below, and toward the mirror, for upon this table stood a charming little porcelain shepherdess, her mantle gathered gracefully about her and fastened with a red rose. Her shoes and hat were gilded, and her hand held a shepherd’s crook; she was very lovely. Close by her stood a little chimney sweep, also of porcelain. He was as clean and neat as any other figure. Indeed, he might as well have been made a prince as a sweep, since he was only make-believe; for though everywhere else he was as black as a coal, his round, bright face was as fresh and rosy as a girl’s. This was certainly a mistake—it ought to have been black.There he stood so prettily, with his ladder in his hand, quite close to the shepherdess. From the first he had been placed there, and he always remained on the same spot; for they had promised to be true to each other. They suited each other exactly—they were both young, both made of the same kind of porcelain, and both equally fragile.Close to them stood another figure three times as large as themselves. It was an old figure from China, a mandarin, who could nod his head. He was made of porcelain, too, and he said he was the grandfather of the shepherdess; but this he could not prove. He insisted that he had authority over her, and so when the crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant made proposals to the little shepherdess, he nodded his head, in token of his consent.“You will have a husband,” said the old mandarin to her, “a husband who, I truly believe, is made of dark wood. You will be the wife of a field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant, of a man who has a whole cabinet full of silver plate, besides a collection of no one knows what in the secret drawers.”“I will never go into that dismal cabinet,” declared the little shepherdess. “I have heard there are eleven porcelain ladies already imprisoned there.”“Then,” answered the mandarin, “you will be the twelfth, and you will be in good company. On this very night, when the old cabinet creaks, we shall have the wedding, as surely as I am a Chinese mandarin.” And upon this he nodded his head and fell asleep.But the little shepherdess wept, and turned to her beloved, the porcelain chimney sweep.“I believe I must ask you,” she said, “to go out with me into the wide world, for here it is not possible for us to stay.”“I will do in everything as you wish,” replied the little chimney sweep. “Let us go at once. I am sure I can support you by my trade.”“If we were only off the table,” said she. “I will not feel safe till we are far away out in the wide world and free.”The little chimney sweep comforted her, and showed her how to set her little foot on the carved edges, and on the gold-edged foliage wrapped round the leg of the table, till at last they both reached the floor. But, turning for a last look at the old cabinet, they saw that was commotion everywhere. All the carved stags stretched their heads farther out than before, raised their antlers, and moved their throats, while the crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant sprang up and shouted to the old Chinese mandarin, “Look! they are eloping! they are eloping!”They were frightened at this, and jumped quickly into an open drawer in the window seat.There lay three or four packs of cards that were not quite complete, and a little doll’s theater, which had been set up as nicely as could be. A play was going on, and all the queens sat in the front row, and fanned themselves with the flowers which they held in their hands, while behind them stood the jacks, each with two heads, one above and one below, as playing cards have. The play was about two people who were not allowed to marry, and the shepherdess cried, for it seemed so like her own story.“I cannot bear this!” she said. “Let us leave the drawer.”But when she had again reached the floor she looked up at the table and saw that the old Chinese mandarin was awake, and that he was rocking his whole body back and forth with rage.“The old mandarin is coming!” cried she, and down she fell on her porcelain knees, so frightened was she.“I have thought of a plan,” said the chimney sweep. “Suppose we creep into the jar of perfumes, the potpourri vase which stands in the corner. There we can rest upon roses and lavender, and throw salt in his eyes if he comes near.”“That will not do at all,” she said. “Besides, I know that the old mandarin and the potpourri vase were once engaged; and no doubt friendship still exists between them. No, there is no help for it; we must wander forth together into the wide world.”“Have you really the courage to go out into the wide world with me?” asked the chimney sweep. “Have you considered how large it is, and that if we go, we can never come back?”“I have,” replied she.And the chimney sweep looked earnestly at her and said, “My way lies through the chimney. Have you really the courage to go with me through the stove, and creep through the flues and the tunnel? Well do I know the way! we shall come out by the chimney, and then I will know how to manage. We will climb so high that they can never reach us, and at the top there is an opening that leads out into the wide world.”And he led her to the door of the stove.“Oh, how black it looks!” she said. Still she went on with him, through the stove, the flues, and the tunnel, where it was as dark as pitch.“Now we are in the chimney,” said he; “and see what a lovely star shines above us.”There actually was a star in the sky, that was shining right down upon them, as if to show them the way. Now they climbed and crept—a frightful way it was, so steep and high! But he went first to guide her, and to smooth the way as much as he could. He showed her the best places on which to set her little china foot, till at last they came to the edge of the chimney and sat down to rest, for they were very tired.The sky and all its stars were above them, and below lay all the roofs of the town. They saw all around them the great, wide world. It was not like what the poor little shepherdess had fancied it, and she leaned her little head upon her chimney sweep’s shoulder and wept so bitterly that the covering was washed from her golden sash.“This is too much,” said she; “it is more than I can bear. The world is too large! I wish I were safe back again upon the little table under the mirror. I will never be happy till I am there once more. I have followed you out into the wide world. Surely, if you really love me, you will follow me back.”The chimney sweep tried to reason with her. He reminded her of the old mandarin, and the crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant, but she wept, and kissed her little chimney sweep so fondly, that he could not do otherwise than as she wished, foolish as it was.So they climbed down the chimney, though with the greatest difficulty, walked through the flues, and into the stove, where they paused to listen behind the door, to discover what might be going on in the room.All was quiet, and they peeped out. And there on the floor lay the old mandarin. He had fallen from the table in his attempt to follow the runaways, and had broken into three pieces. His whole back had come off in a single piece, and his head had rolled into a corner. The crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant stood where he had always stood, reflecting upon what had happened.“This is shocking!” said the little shepherdess. “My old grandfather is broken in pieces, and we are the cause of it,” and she wrung her little hands.“He can be fixed,” said the chimney sweep; “he can certainly be fixed. Do not grieve so! If they cement his back and put a rivet through his neck, he will be just as good as new, and will be able to say as many disagreeable things to us as he did before.”“Do you really think so?” asked she. Then they climbed again up to the place where they had stood before.“How far we have been,” said the chimney sweep, “and since we got no farther than this, we might have saved ourselves all the trouble.”“I wish grandfather were fixed,” said the shepherdess; “I wonder if it will cost very much.”Fixed he was. The family had his back cemented and his neck riveted, so that he was as good as new, only he could not nod.“You have become proud since you were broken to shivers,” observed the crooked-legged field-marshal-major-general-corporal-sergeant, “but I must say, for my part, I don’t see much to be proud of. Am I to have her, or am I not? Just answer me that.”The chimney sweep and the shepherdess looked sadly at the old mandarin. They were so afraid that he would nod his head. But he could not, and it would have been below his dignity to have confessed to having his neck fastened. So the young porcelain people always remained together, and they blessed the grandfather’s fastener and loved each other till they were broken in pieces.
A young drummer went out quite alone one evening into the country, and came to a lake on the shore of which he perceived three pieces of white linen lying. “What fine linen,” said he, and put one piece in his pocket. He returned home, thought no more of what he had found, and went to bed. Just as he was going to sleep, it seemed to him as if some one was saying his name. He listened, and was aware of a soft voice which cried to him, “Drummer, drummer, wake up!”As it was a dark night he could see no one, but it appeared to him that a figure was hovering about his bed. “What do you want?” he asked. “Give me back my dress,” answered the voice, “that you took away from me last evening by the lake.”“You shall have it back again,” said the drummer, “if you will tell me who you are.”“Ah,” replied the voice, “I am the daughter of a mighty King; but I have fallen into the power of a witch, and am shut up on the glass-mountain. I have to bathe in the lake every day with my two sisters, but I cannot fly back again without my dress. My sisters have gone away, but I have been forced to stay behind. I entreat you to give me my dress back.”“Be easy, poor child,” said the drummer. “I will willingly give it back to you.”He took it out of his pocket, and reached it to her in the dark. She snatched it in haste, and wanted to go away with it. “Stop a moment, perhaps I can help you.” “You can only help me by ascending the glass-mountain, and freeing me from the power of the witch. But you cannot come to the glass-mountain, and indeed if you were quite close to it you could not ascend it.” “When I want to do a thing I always can do it,” said the drummer; “I am sorry for you, and have no fear of anything. But I do not know the way which leads to the glass-mountain.”“The road goes through the great forest, in which the man-eaters live,” she answered, “and more than that, I dare not tell you.” And then he heard her wings quiver, as she flew away.By daybreak the drummer arose, buckled on his drum, and went without fear straight into the forest. After he had walked for a while without seeing any giants, he thought to himself, “I must waken up the sluggards,” and he hung his drum before him, and beat such a reveille that the birds flew out of the trees with loud cries. It was not long before a giant who had been lying sleeping among the grass, rose up, and was as tall as a fir-tree. “Wretch!” cried he; “what art thou drumming here for, and wakening me out of my best sleep?”“I am drumming,” he replied, “because I want to show the way to many thousands who are following me.”“What do they want in my forest?” demanded the giant. “They want to put an end to thee, and cleanse the forest of such a monster as thou art!” “Oho!” said the giant, “I will trample you all to death like so many ants.” “Dost thou think thou canst do anything against us?” said the drummer; “if thou stoopest to take hold of one, he will jump away and hide himself; but when thou art lying down and sleeping, they will come forth from every thicket, and creep up to thee. Every one of them has a hammer of steel in his belt, and with that they will beat in thy skull.” The giant grew angry and thought, “If I meddle with the crafty folk, it might turn out badly for me. I can strangle wolves and bears, but I cannot protect myself from these earth-worms.” “Listen, little fellow,” said he; “go back again, and I will promise you that for the future I will leave you and your comrades in peace, and if there is anything else you wish for, tell me, for I am quite willing to do something to please you.” “Thou hast long legs,” said the drummer, “and canst run quicker than I; carry me to the glass-mountain, and I will give my followers a signal to go back, and they shall leave thee in peace this time.” “Come here, worm,” said the giant; “seat thyself on my shoulder, I will carry thee where thou wishest to be.” The giant lifted him up, and the drummer began to beat his drum up aloft to his heart’s delight. The giant thought, “That is the signal for the other people to turn back.”After a while, a second giant was standing in the road, who took the drummer from the first, and stuck him in his own button-hole. The drummer laid hold of the button, which was as large as a dish, held on by it, and looked merrily around. Then they came to a third giant, who took him out of the button-hole, and set him on the rim of his hat. Then the drummer walked backwards and forwards up above, and looked over the trees, and when he perceived a mountain in the blue distance, he thought, “That must be the glass-mountain,” and so it was. The giant only made two steps more, and they reached the foot of the mountain, where the giant put him down. The drummer demanded to be put on the summit of the glass-mountain, but the giant shook his head, growled something in his beard, and went back into the forest.And now the poor drummer was standing before the mountain, which was as high as if three mountains were piled on each other, and at the same time as smooth as a looking-glass, and did not know how to get up it. He began to climb, but that was useless, for he always slipped back again. “If one was a bird now,” thought he; but what was the good of wishing, no wings grew for him.Whilst he was standing thus, not knowing what to do, he saw, not far from him, two men who were struggling fiercely together. He went up to them and saw that they were disputing about a saddle which was lying on the ground before them, and which both of them wanted to have. “What fools you are,” said he, “to quarrel about a saddle, when you have not a horse for it!”“The saddle is worth fighting about,” answered one of the men; “whosoever sits on it, and wishes himself in any place, even if it should be the very end of the earth, gets there the instant he has uttered the wish. The saddle belongs to us in common. It is my turn to ride on it, but that other man will not let me do it.”“I will soon decide the quarrel,” said the drummer, and he went to a short distance and stuck a white rod in the ground. Then he came back and said, “Now run to the goal, and whoever gets there first, shall ride first.” Both put themselves into a trot; but hardly had they gone a couple of steps before the drummer swung himself on the saddle, wished himself on the glass-mountain, and before any one could turn round, he was there. On the top of the mountain was a plain; there stood an old stone house, and in front of the house lay a great fish-pond, but behind it was a dark forest. He saw neither men nor animals, everything was quiet; only the wind rustled amongst the trees, and the clouds moved by quite close above his head. He went to the door and knocked. When he had knocked for the third time, an old woman with a brown face and red eyes opened the door. She had spectacles on her long nose, and looked sharply at him; then she asked what he wanted. “Entrance, food, and a bed for the night,” replied the drummer. “That thou shalt have,” said the old woman, “if thou wilt perform three services in return.”“Why not?” he answered, “I am not afraid of any kind of work, however hard it may be.”The old woman let him go in, and gave him some food and a good bed at night. The next morning when he had had his sleep out, she took a thimble from her wrinkled finger, reached it to the drummer, and said, “Go to work now, and empty out the pond with this thimble; but thou must have it done before night, and must have sought out all the fishes which are in the water and laid them side by side, according to their kind and size.” “That is strange work,” said the drummer, but he went to the pond, and began to empty it. He baled the whole morning; but what can any one do to a great lake with a thimble, even if he were to bale for a thousand years?When it was noon, he thought, “It is all useless, and whether I work or not it will come to the same thing.” So he gave it up and sat down. Then came a maiden out of the house who set a little basket with food before him, and said, “What ails thee, that thou sittest so sadly here?” He looked at her, and saw that she was wondrously beautiful. “Ah,” said he, “I cannot finish the first piece of work, how will it be with the others? I came forth to seek a king’s daughter who is said to dwell here, but I have not found her, and I will go farther.”“Stay here,” said the maiden, “I will help thee out of thy difficulty. Thou art tired, lay thy head in my lap, and sleep. When thou awakest again, thy work will be done.” The drummer did not need to be told that twice. As soon as his eyes were shut, she turned a wishing-ring and said, “Rise, water. Fishes, come out.” Instantly the water rose on high like a white mist, and moved away with the other clouds, and the fishes sprang on the shore and laid themselves side by side each according to his size and kind. When the drummer awoke, he saw with amazement that all was done. But the maiden said, “One of the fish is not lying with those of its own kind, but quite alone; when the old woman comes to-night and sees that all she demanded has been done, she will ask thee, ‘What is this fish lying alone for?’ Then throw the fish in her face, and say, ‘This one shall be for thee, old witch.'”In the evening the witch came, and when she had put this question, he threw the fish in her face. She behaved as if she did not remark it, and said nothing, but looked at him with malicious eyes. Next morning she said, “Yesterday it was too easy for thee, I must give thee harder work. Today thou must hew down the whole of the forest, split the wood into logs, and pile them up, and everything must be finished by the evening.”She gave him an axe, a mallet, and two wedges. But the axe was made of lead, and the mallet and wedges were of tin. When he began to cut, the edge of the axe turned back, and the mallet and wedges were beaten out of shape. He did not know how to manage, but at mid-day the maiden came once more with his dinner and comforted him. “Lay thy head on my lap,” said she, “and sleep; when thou awakest, thy work will be done.” She turned her wishing-ring, and in an instant the whole forest fell down with a crash, the wood split, and arranged itself in heaps, and it seemed just as if unseen giants were finishing the work. When he awoke, the maiden said, “Dost thou see that the wood is piled up and arranged, one bough alone remains; but when the old woman comes this evening and asks thee about that bough, give her a blow with it, and say, ‘That is for thee, thou witch.'”The old woman came, “There thou seest how easy the work was!” said she; “but for whom hast thou left that bough which is lying there still?”“For thee, thou witch,” he replied, and gave her a blow with it. But she pretended not to feel it, laughed scornfully, and said, “Early to-morrow morning thou shalt arrange all the wood in one heap, set fire to it, and burn it.” He rose at break of day, and began to pick up the wood, but how can a single man get a whole forest together? The work made no progress. The maiden, however, did not desert him in his need. She brought him his food at noon, and when he had eaten, he laid his head on her lap, and went to sleep. When he awoke, the entire pile of wood was burning in one enormous flame, which stretched its tongues out into the sky. “Listen to me,” said the maiden, “when the witch comes, she will give thee all kinds of orders; do whatever she asks thee without fear, and then she will not be able to get the better of thee, but if thou art afraid, the fire will lay hold of thee, and consume thee. At last when thou hast done everything, seize her with both thy hands, and throw her into the midst of the fire.”The maiden departed, and the old woman came sneaking up to him. “Oh, I am cold,” said she, “but that is a fire that burns; it warms my old bones for me, and does me good! But there is a log lying there which won’t burn, bring it out for me. When thou hast done that, thou art free, and mayst go where thou likest, come; go in with a good will.”The drummer did not reflect long; he sprang into the midst of the flames, but they did not hurt him, and could not even singe a hair of his head. He carried the log out, and laid it down. Hardly, however, had the wood touched the earth than it was transformed, and the beautiful maiden who had helped him in his need stood before him, and by the silken and shining golden garments which she wore, he knew right well that she was the King’s daughter. But the old woman laughed venomously, and said, “Thou thinkest thou hast her safe, but thou hast not got her yet!” Just as she was about to fall on the maiden and take her away, the youth seized the old woman with both his hands, raised her up on high, and threw her into the jaws of the fire, which closed over her as if it were delighted that the old witch was to be burnt.Then the King’s daughter looked at the drummer, and when she saw that he was a handsome youth and remembered how he had risked his life to deliver her, she gave him her hand, and said, “Thou hast ventured everything for my sake, but I also will do everything for thine. Promise to be true to me, and thou shalt be my husband. We shall not want for riches, we shall have enough with what the witch has gathered together here.” She led him into the house, where there were chests and coffers crammed with the old woman’s treasures. The maiden left the gold and silver where it was, and took only the precious stones. She would not stay any longer on the glass-mountain, so the drummer said to her, “Seat thyself by me on my saddle, and then we will fly down like birds.”“I do not like the old saddle,” said she, “I need only turn my wishing-ring and we shall be at home.” “Very well, then,” answered the drummer, “then wish us in front of the town-gate.” In the twinkling of an eye they were there, but the drummer said, “I will just go to my parents and tell them the news, wait for me outside here, I shall soon be back.”“Ah,” said the King’s daughter, “I beg thee to be careful. On thy arrival do not kiss thy parents on the right cheek, or else thou wilt forget everything, and I shall stay behind here outside, alone and deserted.”“How can I forget thee?” said he, and promised her to come back very soon, and gave his hand upon it. When he went into his father’s house, he had changed so much that no one knew who he was, for the three days which he had passed on the glass-mountain had been three years. Then he made himself known, and his parents fell on his neck with joy, and his heart was so moved that he forgot what the maiden had said, and kissed them on both cheeks. But when he had given them the kiss on the right cheek, every thought of the King’s daughter vanished from him. He emptied out his pockets, and laid handfuls of the largest jewels on the table. The parents had not the least idea what to do with the riches. Then the father built a magnificent castle all surrounded by gardens, woods, and meadows as if a prince were going to live in it, and when it was ready, the mother said, “I have found a maiden for thee, and the wedding shall be in three days.” The son was content to do as his parents desired.The poor King’s daughter had stood for a long time without the town waiting for the return of the young man. When evening came, she said, “He must certainly have kissed his parents on the right cheek, and has forgotten me.” Her heart was full of sorrow, she wished herself into a solitary little hut in a forest, and would not return to her father’s court. Every evening she went into the town and passed the young man’s house; he often saw her, but he no longer knew her. At length she heard the people saying, “The wedding will take place to-morrow.” Then she said, “I will try if I can win his heart back.”On the first day of the wedding ceremonies, she turned her wishing-ring, and said, “A dress as bright as the sun.” Instantly the dress lay before her, and it was as bright as if it had been woven of real sunbeams. When all the guests were assembled, she entered the hall. Every one was amazed at the beautiful dress, and the bride most of all, and as pretty dresses were the things she had most delight in, she went to the stranger and asked if she would sell it to her. “Not for money,” she answered, “but if I may pass the first night outside the door of the room where your betrothed sleeps, I will give it up to you.” The bride could not overcome her desire and consented, but she mixed a sleeping-draught with the wine her betrothed took at night, which made him fall into a deep sleep, When all had become quiet, the King’s daughter crouched down by the door of the bedroom, opened it just a little, and cried,“Drummer, drummer, I pray thee hear!Hast thou forgotten thou heldest me dear?That on the glass-mountain we sat hour by hour?That I rescued thy life from the witch’s power?Didst thou not plight thy troth to me?Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!”But it was all in vain, the drummer did not awake, and when morning dawned, the King’s daughter was forced to go back again as she came. On the second evening she turned her wishing-ring and said, “A dress as silvery as the moon.” When she appeared at the feast in the dress which was as soft as moonbeams, it again excited the desire of the bride, and the King’s daughter gave it to her for permission to pass the second night also, outside the door of the bedroom. Then in the stillness of the night, she cried,“Drummer, drummer, I pray thee hear!Hast thou forgotten thou heldest me dear?That on the glass-mountain we sat hour by hour?That I rescued thy life from the witch’s power?Didst thou not plight thy troth to me?Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!”But the drummer, who was stupefied with the sleeping-draught, could not be aroused. Sadly next morning she went back to her hut in the forest. But the people in the house had heard the lamentation of the stranger-maiden, and told the bridegroom about it. They told him also that it was impossible that he could hear anything of it, because the maiden he was going to marry had poured a sleeping-draught into his wine.On the third evening, the King’s daughter turned her wishing-ring, and said, “A dress glittering like the stars.” When she showed herself therein at the feast, the bride was quite beside herself with the splendour of the dress, which far surpassed the others, and she said, “I must, and will have it.” The maiden gave it as she had given the others for permission to spend the night outside the bridegroom’s door. The bridegroom, however, did not drink the wine which was handed to him before he went to bed, but poured it behind the bed, and when everything was quiet, he heard a sweet voice which called to him,“Drummer, drummer, I pray thee hear!Hast thou forgotten thou heldest me dear?That on the glass-mountain we sat hour by hour?That I rescued thy life from the witch’s power?Didst thou not plight thy troth to me?Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!”Suddenly, his memory returned to him. “Ah,” cried he, “how can I have acted so unfaithfully; but the kiss which in the joy of my heart I gave my parents, on the right cheek, that is to blame for it all, that is what stupefied me!” He sprang up, took the King’s daughter by the hand, and led her to his parents’ bed. “This is my true bride,” said he; “if I marry the other, I shall do a great wrong.”The parents, when they heard how everything had happened, gave their consent. Then the lights in the hall were lighted again, drums and trumpets were brought, friends and relations were invited to come, and the real wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. The first bride received the beautiful dresses as a compensation, and declared herself satisfied.
A Thief found his way into an apiary when the Bee-keeper was away, and stole all the honey. When the Keeper returned and found the hives empty, he was very much upset and stood staring at them for some time. Before long the bees came back from gathering honey, and, finding their hives overturned and the Keeper standing by, they made for him with their stings. At this he fell into a passion and cried, “You ungrateful scoundrels, you let the thief who stole my honey get off scot-free, and then you go and sting me who have always taken such care of you!”When you hit back make sure you have got the right man.
In olden days, long before the Indians came to Canada, all the animals talked and worked like men. Every year after midsummer they held a great council at which they were all present. But it happened once in the summer before the council met, that they all wanted to go to the sky to see what the country up there was like. None of them could find a way to go. The oldest and wisest creature on all the earth was Turtle. One day he prayed to the Thunder God to take him to the sky, and his prayer was soon answered. There was a great noise, as if the earth had been split asunder, and when the people next looked for Turtle he was nowhere to be found. They searched everywhere without success. But that evening, when they looked upwards, they saw him in the sky, moving about like a black cloud. Turtle liked the sky so well that he decided to live there always and to send his descendants, later, to the earth. And the sky-people agreed to keep him. They asked him, “Where do you want to dwell?”And he answered, “I should like to dwell in the Black Cloud, in which are the ponds and streams and lakes and springs of water, for I always dwelt near these places when I was young.” So he was allowed to have his wish. But when the Great Council of the animals met on earth in the time of the harvest-moon, he was always present. He came in the Black Cloud, but he always went back to the sky after the Council was ended. And the other animals envied him his good fortune, and they wished that they could go with him.After a time the animals were greatly distressed and angered by the rumor that a new race of creatures was coming from far over the ocean to inhabit their land. They talked it over very carefully, and they all thought how fortunate it would be if they could all go to the sky with old Turtle, and live like him, free from fear and trouble and care. But they were puzzled to know how to get there, for Turtle had never told any of them the way. One day Deer, wandering about alone in the forest, as was his custom, came across Rainbow, who often built a path of many colors to the sky.And he said to Rainbow, “Carry me up to the sky, for I want to see Turtle.” But Rainbow was afraid to do it, for he wished first to ask the Thunder God for permission, and he put Deer off, and to gain time he said, “Come to me in winter, when I stay for a time on the mountain near the lake. Then I will gladly carry you to the place where Turtle dwells.”Throughout the long winter months Deer looked longingly for Rainbow, but Rainbow did not come. Life was growing harder on the earth, and the animals were in terror of the new race that was soon to come to their land, and Deer was very timid and impatient. At last, one day in the early summer, Rainbow came again, and Deer hastened to meet him. “Why were you false to me?” he asked; “I waited for you all winter long on the mountain by the lake, but you did not come as you promised. I want to go to the sky now, for I must see Turtle.”Rainbow answered, “I cannot take you now. But some day, when there is a Fog over the lake, I shall come back to drive it away. Come to me then, and I shall take you to the sky and to the place where Turtle dwells. This time I will not deceive you.” Rainbow consulted the Thunder God, and received permission to do as Deer wished. Soon afterwards the Fog one day rolled in a thick bank across the lake, and Deer hurried out to wait for Rainbow. Sure enough, Rainbow came down, as he had promised, to drive the Fog away. He threw his arch of many colors from the lake to the blue hills far away, and the Fog at once disappeared from the place.And he said to Deer, who stood watching him, “Now I will keep my promise. Follow my many-coloured path over the hills and the forests and the streams, and be not afraid, and you will soon reach Turtle’s home in the sky.” Deer did as he was told, and soon he reached the sky. Turtle was glad to see him, and Deer liked the country so well that he decided to stay for ever. And he roamed over the sky everywhere, moving like the wind from place to place.When midsummer had passed and the harvest-moon had come and the Great Council again met together, Deer was absent for the first time in his life. The animals waited long for him to appear, for they needed his advice, but he did not come. They sent the Birds out to find him. Black Hawk and Woodpecker and Bluejay all sought him in the forest, but they could not find a trace of him. Then Wolf and Fox scoured the woods far and near, but they came back and reported that he could not be found anywhere. At last Turtle arrived at the meeting of the Great Council, as was his custom, coming in his Black Cloud, in which were the ponds and lakes and streams and springs of water. And Bear said, “Deer is absent from the Council meeting. Where is Deer? We cannot meet without him, for we need his advice.”And Turtle replied, “Deer is in the sky. Have you not heard? Rainbow made a wonderful pathway for him of many varied colours, and by that he came to the sky. There he is now,” and he pointed to a golden cloud scurrying across the sky overhead.Turtle advised that the animals should all go to the sky to live until they could be sure that the new race of creatures would bring them no harm. And he showed them the pathway that Rainbow had made, stretching from the earth in wonderful colors. The animals all agreed at the Great Council to take Turtle’s advice. But they were all very angry at Deer for leaving them without warning, for they thought that all the animals should either stay together faithfully on the earth or go all together to the sky. Bear showed the greatest anger and annoyance. Because of his great strength, he had no fear of the new race that was said soon to be coming, and he had always been inclined to look with scorn on Deer’s timid and impatient ways. “Deer has forsaken us,” he said; “he deserted us in the hour of our danger, and that is contrary to forest laws and to our code of defense.” And he thought to himself, “I shall punish him for this when the time comes.”In the late autumn, the time agreed upon came for the animals to leave the earth, and Rainbow again made his bright path for them to the sky. Bear was the first to go up because he was the leader, and because with his great weight he wanted to test the strength of the bridge of burning colors over which they had to pass. When he had almost reached the sky, he met Deer on the path waiting to welcome the animals to their new home. And he said to him in anger, “Why did you leave us behind, without warning, for the land of the Turtle? Why did you desert the Great Council? Why did you not wait until all could come together? You are a traitor to your comrades, and you have been false to our faith.”And Deer answered, also in anger, “Who are you to doubt me or my faith? None but the Wolf may ask me why I came or question my fidelity. I will kill you for your insolence.” Deer had grown very proud since he had gone to live in the sky, and he was no longer timid as he had been on earth. His eyes flashed in his fury, and he arched his neck and lowered his antlered head, and rushed madly at Bear to push him from the path.But Bear was not afraid, for he had often tested his strength with Deer upon the earth. His low, hoarse growls sounded all over the sky, and he prepared to fight. They came together with a shock. For a long time they battled, until the bridge of burning colors trembled and the heavens shook from the force of the conflict. The animals waiting by the lake at the end of the path looked up and saw the battle above them. They feared the results, for they wanted neither Bear nor Deer to die. So they sent Wolf up to the sky to put a stop to the contest. When Wolf reached the combatants, Bear was bleeding freely, for Deer with his antlers had pierced his neck and side. Deer, too, was bleeding where Bear’s strong claws had torn a great wound in his head. Wolf soon stopped the battle, and Bear and Deer went away to dress their wounds. Then the other animals went up to the sky over Rainbow’s flaming path. And they decided to live in the sky and to send their descendants back to earth when the new race of creatures should come. And they can still sometimes be seen, like clouds hurrying across the sky, in the shape they had on earth.But the blood of Bear and of Deer dropped from them as they moved to the sky from the scene of their battle along the Rainbow road. It fell freely upon the leaves of the trees beneath them, and changed them into varied colors. And every year when autumn comes in the north country, the leaves take on again the bright and wondrous colors given to them by the blood of Bear and Deer when they fought on the Rainbow path ages and ages ago. And Bear and Deer have never since been friends, and their descendants no longer dwell together in peace, as they did in the olden days.
At Dalton, near Thirsk, in Yorkshire, there is a mill. It has quite recently been rebuilt; but when I was at Dalton, six years ago, the old building stood. In front of the house was a long mound which went by the name of “the giant’s grave,” and in the mill you can see a long blade of iron something like a scythe-blade, but not curved, which was called “the giant’s knife,” because of a very curious story which is told of this knife. Would you like to hear it? Well, it isn’t very long.There once lived a giant at this mill who had only one eye in the middle of his forehead, and he ground men’s bones to make his bread. One day he captured on Pilmoor a lad named Jack, and instead of grinding him in the mill, he kept him grinding as his servant, and never let him get away. Jack served the giant seven years, and never was allowed a holiday the whole time. At last he could bear it no longer. Topcliffe fair was coming on, and Jack begged that he might be allowed to go there.“No, no,” said the giant, “stop at home and mind your grinding.”“I’ve been grinding and grinding these seven years,” said Jack, “and not a holiday have I had. I’ll have one now, whatever you say.”“We’ll see about that,” said the giant.Well, the day was hot, and after dinner the giant lay down in the mill with his head on a sack and dozed. He had been eating in the mill, and had laid down a great loaf of bone bread by his side, and the knife I told you about was in his hand, but his fingers relaxed their hold of it in sleep. Jack seized the knife, and holding it with both his hands drove the blade into the single eye of the giant, who woke with a howl of agony, and starting up, barred the door. Jack was again in difficulties, for he couldn’t get out, but he soon found a way out of them. The giant had a favourite dog, which had also been sleeping when his master was blinded. So Jack killed the dog, skinned it, and threw the hide over his back.“Bow, wow,” says Jack.“At him, Truncheon,” said the giant; “at the little wretch that I’ve fed these seven years, and now has blinded me.”“Bow, wow,” says Jack, and ran between the giant’s legs on all-fours, barking till he got to the door. He unlatched it and was off, and never more was seen at Dalton Mill.
An Eagle was soaring through the air when suddenly it heard the whizz of an Arrow, and felt itself wounded to death. Slowly it fluttered down to the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it. Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had been pierced, it found that the shaft of the Arrow had been feathered with one of its own plumes. “Alas!” it cried, as it died, “We often give our enemies the means for our own destruction.”
What a splendid lodge it was, and how grand War Eagle looked leaning against his back-rest in the firelight! From the tripod that supported the back-rest were suspended his weapons and his medicine-bundle, each showing the wonderful skill of the maker. The quiver that held the arrows was combined with a case for the bow, and colored quills of the porcupine had been deftly used to make it a thing of beauty. All about the lodge hung the strangely painted linings, and the firelight added richness to both color and design. War Eagle’s hair was white, for he had known many snows; but his eyes were keen and bright as a boy’s, as he gazed in pride at his grandchildren across the lodge-fire. He was wise, and had been in many battles, for his was a warlike tribe. He knew all about the world and the people in it. He was deeply religious, and every Indian child loved him for his goodness and brave deeds.About the fire were Little Buffalo Calf, a boy of eleven years; Eyes-in-the-Water, his sister, a girl of nine; Fine Bow, a cousin of these, aged ten, and Bluebird, his sister, who was but eight years old.Not a sound did the children make while the old warrior filled his great pipe, and only the snapping of the lodge-fire broke the stillness. Solemnly War Eagle lit the tobacco that had been mixed with the dried inner bark of the red willow, and for several minutes smoked in silence, while the children’s eyes grew large with expectancy. Finally he spoke:“Napa, OLD-man, is very old indeed. He made this world, and all that is on it. He came out of the south, and travelled toward the north, making the birds and animals as he passed. He made the perfumes for the winds to carry about, and he even made the war-paint for the people to use. He was a busy worker, but a great liar and thief, as I shall show you after I have told you more about him. It was OLD-man who taught the beaver all his cunning. It was OLD-man who told the bear to go to sleep when the snow grew deep in winter, and it was he who made the curlew’s bill so long and crooked, although it was not that way at first. OLD-man used to live on this world with the animals and birds. There was no other man or woman then, and he was chief over all the animal-people and the bird-people. He could speak the language of the robin, knew the words of the bear, and understood the sign-talk of the beaver, too. He lived with the wolves, for they are the great hunters. Even to-day we make the same sign for a smart man as we make for the wolf; so you see he taught them much while he lived with them. OLD-man made a great many mistakes in making things, as I shall show you after a while; yet he worked until he had everything good. But he often made great mischief and taught many wicked things. These I shall tell you about some day. Everybody was afraid of OLD-man and his tricks and lies—even the animal-people, before he made men and women. He used to visit the lodges of our people and make trouble long ago, but he got so wicked that Manitou grew angry at him, and one day in the month of roses, he built a lodge for OLD-man and told him that he must stay in it forever. Of course he had to do that, and nobody knows where the lodge was built, nor in what country, but that is why we never see him as our grandfathers did, long, long ago.“What I shall tell you now happened when the world was young. It was a fine summer day, and OLD-man was travelling in the forest. He was going north and straight as an arrow—looking at nothing, hearing nothing. No one knows what he was after, to this day. The birds and forest-people spoke politely to him as he passed but he answered none of them. The Pine-squirrel, who is always trying to find out other people’s business, asked him where he was going, but OLD-man wouldn’t tell him. The woodpecker hammered on a dead tree to make him look that way, but he wouldn’t. The Elk-people and the Deer-people saw him pass, and all said that he must be up to some mischief or he would stop and talk a while. The pine-trees murmured, and the bushes whispered their greeting, but he kept his eyes straight ahead and went on travelling.“The sun was low when OLD-man heard a groan” (here War Eagle groaned to show the children how it sounded), “and turning about he saw a warrior lying bruised and bleeding near a spring of cold water. OLD-man knelt beside the man and asked: ‘Is there war in this country?’“‘Yes,’ answered the man. ‘This whole day long we have fought to kill a Person, but we have all been killed, I am afraid.’“‘That is strange,’ said OLD-man; ‘how can one Person kill so many men? Who is this Person, tell me his name!’ but the man didn’t answer—he was dead. When OLD-man saw that life had left the wounded man, he drank from the spring, and went on toward the north, but before long he heard a noise as of men fighting, and he stopped to look and listen. Finally he saw the bushes bend and sway near a creek that flowed through the forest. He crawled toward the spot, and peering through the brush saw a great Person near a pile of dead men, with his back against a pine-tree. The Person was full of arrows, and he was pulling them from his ugly body. Calmly the Person broke the shafts of the arrows, tossed them aside, and stopped the blood flow with a brush of his hairy hand. His head was large and fierce-looking, and his eyes were small and wicked. His great body was larger than that of a buffalo-bull and covered with scars of many battles.“OLD-man went to the creek, and with his buffalo-horn cup brought some water to the Person, asking as he approached:“‘Who are you, Person? Tell me, so I can make you a fine present, for you are great in war.’“‘I am Bad Sickness,’ replied the Person. ‘Tribes I have met remember me and always will, for their bravest warriors are afraid when I make war upon them. I come in the night or I visit their camps in daylight. It is always the same; they are frightened and I kill them easily.’“‘Ho!’ said OLD-man, ‘tell me how to make Bad Sickness, for I often go to war myself.’ He lied; for he was never in a battle in his life. The Person shook his ugly head and then OLD-man said:“‘If you will tell me how to make Bad Sickness I will make you small and handsome. When you are big, as you now are, it is very hard to make a living; but when you are small, little food will make you fat. Your living will be easy because I will make your food grow everywhere.’“‘Good,’ said the Person, ‘I will do it; you must kill the fawns of the deer and the calves of the elk when they first begin to live. When you have killed enough of them you must make a robe of their skins. Whenever you wear that robe and sing—”now you sicken, now you sicken,” the sickness will come—that is all there is to it.’“‘Good,’ said OLD-man, ‘now lie down to sleep and I will do as I promised.’“The Person went to sleep and OLD-man breathed upon him until he grew so tiny that he laughed to see how small he had made him. Then he took out his paint sack and striped the Person’s back with black and yellow. It looked bright and handsome and he waked the Person, who was now a tiny animal with a bushy tail to make him pretty.“‘Now,’ said OLD-man, ‘you are the Chipmunk, and must always wear those striped clothes. All of your children and their children, must wear them, too.’“After the Chipmunk had looked at himself, and thanked OLD-man for his new clothes, he wanted to know how he could make his living, and OLD-man told him what to eat, and said he must cache the pine-nuts when the leaves turned yellow, so he would not have to work in the winter time.“‘You are a cousin to the Pine-squirrel,’ said OLD-man, ‘and you will hunt and hide as he does. You will be spry and your living will be easy to make if you do as I have told you.’“He taught the Chipmunk his language and his signs, showed him where to live, and then left him, going on toward the north again. He kept looking for the cow-elk and doe-deer, and it was not long before he had killed enough of their young to make the robe as the Person told him, for they were plentiful before the white man came to live on the world. He found a shady place near a creek, and there made the robe that would make Bad Sickness whenever he sang the queer song, but the robe was plain, and brown in color. He didn’t like the looks of it. Suddenly he thought how nice the back of the Chipmunk looked after he had striped it with his paints. He got out his old paint sack and with the same colors made the robe look very much like the clothes of the Chipmunk. He was proud of the work, and liked the new robe better; but being lazy, he wanted to save himself work, so he sent the South-wind to tell all the doe-deer and the cow-elk to come to him. They came as soon as they received the message, for they were afraid of OLD-man and always tried to please him. When they had all reached the place where OLD-man was he said to them:“‘Do you see this robe?’“‘Yes, we see it,’ they replied.“‘Well, I have made it from the skins of your children, and then painted it to look like the Chipmunk’s back, for I like the looks of that Person’s clothes. I shall need many more of these robes during my life; and every time I make one, I don’t want to have to spend my time painting it; so from now on and forever your children shall be born in spotted clothes. I want it to be that way to save me work. On all the fawns there must be spots of white like this (here he pointed to the spots on Bad Sickness’s robe) and on all of the elk-calves the spots shall not be so white and shall be in rows and look rather yellow.’ Again he showed them his robe, that they might see just what he wanted.“‘Remember,’ he said, ‘after this I don’t want to see any of your children running about wearing plain clothing, because that would mean more painting for me. Now go away, and remember what I have said, lest I make you sick.’“The cow-elk and the doe-deer were glad to know that their children’s clothes would be beautiful, and they went away to their little ones who were hidden in the tall grass, where the wolves and mountain-lions would have a hard time finding them; for you know that in the tracks of the fawn there is no scent, and the wolf cannot trail him when he is alone. That is the way Manitou takes care of the weak, and all of the forest-people know about it, too.“Now you know why the Chipmunk’s back is striped, and why the fawn and elk-calf wear their pretty clothes.“I hear the owls, and it is time for all young men who will some day be great warriors to go to bed, and for all young women to seek rest, lest beauty go away forever. Ho!”
Once upon a time something happened whose like never occurred before—if it had not happened it would not be told—since the flea had one foot shod with ninety-nine pounds of iron and jumped into the skies to get us fairy tales.There was once a mighty emperor and empress. Both were young and handsome, and as they desired the blessing of children they did every thing that was necessary to secure it, that is they went to the witches and philosophers and asked them to read the stars to find out whether they would have children or not. But it was all in vain. Finally the emperor heard that a very wise old man lived in a neighboring village, and sent for him. The messengers returned with the answer: “Let him who needs me come to me.” So the emperor and empress set out for the wise man’s house, taking with them several of their courtiers, attendants, and soldiers. When the old man saw them in the distance, he rose, went to meet them, and said at once:“Welcome! But what do you want to know, oh, emperor! your wish will bring you sorrow.”“I am not here to question you about that,” replied the emperor, “but to learn whether you have any plants you can give us that will bestow the blessing of children.”“I have,” the old man answered, “but you will possess only one child. He will be a handsome, lovable boy, yet you will not be able to keep him long.”After the emperor and empress had obtained the herbs they joyfully returned to the palace. The whole empire, the courtiers, and all the attendants rejoiced too. But when the hour of its birth came, the child began to scream in a way no magic arts could silence. The emperor commenced to promise it all the good things the world contained, but it was impossible to quiet it.“Hush, father’s pet,” said the emperor, “I will give you this or that kingdom; hush, my son, I will give you this or that princess for your wife.” At last, when he saw the child would not stop, he added: “Hush, my boy, I will give you youth without age and life without death.”Then the prince stopped crying; the courtiers beat drums and blew trumpets, and there were great rejoicings throughout the empire for a whole week.The older the boy grew, the more thoughtful and reflective he became. He went to the schools and the philosophers and gained every kind of learning, so that the emperor died of joy and came to life again. The whole realm was proud of having a prince so wise and learned, a second King Solomon. But one day, when the lad had just reached his fifteenth year and the emperor sat at a banquet with the nobles and grandees of the country, the handsome prince rose, saying: “Father, the time has come, you must now give me what you promised at my birth!”When the emperor heard this he grew very sorrowful and answered: “Why, my son, how can I give you an impossible thing? If I promised it to you then, it was only to hush you.”“If you can’t give it to me, father, I shall be obliged to wander through the whole world till I find what was promised to me, and for which I was born.”Then all the nobles and the emperor fell at his feet and besought him not to quit the country, because, as the courtiers said, his father was growing old, and they would place him on the throne and give him the most beautiful princess under the sun for his wife. But it was impossible to shake his resolution, he remained as firm as a rock. After his father had seen and duly considered all these things, he gave his consent and prepared to supply the prince with provisions and whatever else he might need for his journey.The young hero went to the imperial stables, where the finest steeds in the whole realm were standing, to choose one of them; but when he laid his hand on the horse’s tail he knocked it down, and so they all fell, one after another. At last, just as he was going out, he let his eyes wander around the building once more and saw in one corner a sick, weak horse, covered with sores. He went up to it, and when he grasped it by the tail, the animal turned its head, saying:“What do you command, my master? I thank God that He has permitted a hero’s hand to touch me once more.”And, planting its feet firmly, it remained standing. The young prince told it what he intended to do, and the horse replied:“To obtain your wish, you must ask your father for the sword, lance, bow, quiver of arrows, and garments he wore when a youth; but you must take care of me with your own hands for six weeks and give me oats boiled in milk.”When the prince begged the emperor for the articles the horse had advised, the monarch called the major-domo of the palace and ordered him to open all the chests of clothing, that his son might choose what he pleased. The young hero, after rummaging them three whole days, at last found in the very bottom of an old trunk the weapons and garments his father had worn in his youth, but the arms were covered with rust. He set to work to clean them with his own hands and in six weeks, during the time he was taking care of the horse, he succeeded in making the weapons as bright and shining as a mirror. When the horse heard from the handsome prince that the clothes and arms were cleaned and ready, it shook itself once. All the sores instantly fell off and there it stood, a strong, well-formed animal, with four wings. When the hero saw this, he said:“We’ll go in three days!”“May you have a long life, master. From to-day I shall be at your service,” the horse answered.On the morning of the third day there was great mourning throughout the whole court and empire. The handsome prince, clad like a hero, holding his sword in his hand and riding the horse he had chosen, took leave of the emperor, the empress, the great nobles and lesser grandees, the army, and all the attendants, who, with tears in their eyes, implored him to give up the journey and not risk his life; but setting spurs to his steed, he dashed through the gate like the wind, followed by the carts loaded with provisions and money, and the two hundred horsemen the emperor had commanded to accompany him.After reaching the boundaries of his father’s country and arriving at the wilderness, the prince distributed all his property among the escort, bade them farewell, and sent them back, keeping for himself only as much food as the horse could carry. Then he turned toward the east and rode for three days and three nights, till he came to a wide plain where lay a great many human bones.When he stopped here to rest, the horse said: “You must know, master, that we are on the land of a Woodpecker Fairy who is so wicked that nobody can enter her domain without being murdered. She was once a woman, but the curse of her parents, whom she angered by her disobedience, turned her into a woodpecker. She is with her children now, but you will meet her to-morrow in yonder forest; she will come to kill you. She is terribly big, but don’t be frightened; hold the bow ready to pierce her with an arrow, and keep your sword and lance in hand, so that you can use them in case of need.”Then they went to rest, taking turns in watching.At dawn the next morning they prepared to pass through the forest; the prince saddled and bridled the horse, drew the girths tighter than usual, and mounted. Suddenly he heard a tremendous crashing. “Make ready, master,” said the horse, “the Woodpecker Fairy is coming.” As she approached, she moved so fast that she tore the trees down; but the horse leaped upward like the wind, so that it was almost over her, and the prince shot off one of her feet with an arrow. Just as he was about to discharge the second arrow, she cried:“Stop, my young hero, I’ll do you no harm.” And seeing that he did not believe her, she gave him the promise written with her own blood.“Your horse can not be killed, my young hero,” she added, “it is enchanted; if it hadn’t been for that, I would have roasted and eaten you. Know that until to-day no mortal man has ventured to cross my boundaries as far as this; a few bold wights who dared to make the trial, reached the plain where you saw so many bones.”They now went to the fairy’s house, where she entertained them as guests. But while sitting at the table enjoying the banquet, the Woodpecker Fairy moaned with pain, so the prince pulled the foot he had shot off out of the traveling bag where he had put it, fastened it on, and it instantly healed. The hostess, in her joy, kept open house for three days, and begged the emperor’s son to choose one of her daughters, all three of whom were beautiful as fairies, for his wife. He would not do that, but told her what he was seeking, and she replied:“With your horse and your heroic courage, I believe you will succeed.”After three days had passed, the prince prepared to continue his journey and departed. He rode on, and on, and on; the road seemed to grow longer and longer, but when he had finally crossed the frontiers of the Woodpecker Fairy’s kingdom, he entered a beautiful meadow, one side of which was covered with blooming plants, but the other was scorched.The prince asked why the grass was singed, and the horse answered:“We are now in the domain of the Scorpion Witch; she is the Woodpecker Fairy’s sister, but they are both so wicked that they can’t live together. Their parents’ curse has fallen upon them, and so, as you see, they have become monsters; their enmity goes beyond all bounds; they are always trying to get possession of each other’s lands. When this one is very angry she spits fire and pitch; she must have had some quarrel with her sister, and, to drive her out of her kingdom, has burned the grass on which she was standing. She is even worse than her sister, and has three heads. We will rest awhile now, and be ready at the first peep of dawn to-morrow.”The next day they prepared themselves just as they did when they expected to meet the Woodpecker fairy, and set out. Soon they heard a howling and rustling unlike any thing ever known before.“Make ready, master, the Scorpion Witch is coming.”The Scorpion Witch, with one jaw in the sky and the other on the earth, approached like the wind, spitting fire as she came, but the horse darted upward as swiftly as an arrow, and then rushed over her a little on one side. The hero shot an arrow and one of her heads fell, but when he was going to strike off another, the Scorpion Witch entreated him to forgive her, she would do him no harm, and to convince him of this she gave him her promise, written in her own blood.Like the Woodpecker Fairy, she entertained the prince, who returned her head, which grew on again, and at the end of three days he resumed his travels.When the hero and his horse had reached the boundaries of the Scorpion Witch’s kingdom they hurried on without resting till they came to a field covered with flowers, where reigned perpetual spring. Every blossom was remarkably beautiful and filled with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance; a gentle breeze fanned them all. They remained here to rest, but the horse said:“We have arrived so far successfully, master, but we still have one great peril to undergo and, if the Lord helps us to conquer it, we shall really be valiant heroes. A short distance further on is the palace where dwell Youth without Age and Life without Death. It is surrounded by a high, dense forest, where roam all the wild animals in the world, watching it day and night. They are very numerous, and it is almost beyond the bounds of possibility to get through the wood by fighting them; we must try, if we can, to jump over them.”After resting about two days they prepared to continue their journey, and the horse, holding its breath, said:“Buckle my girth as tight as you can, and when you have mounted hold fast to my mane and press your feet close to my neck, that you may not hinder me.” The prince mounted, and in a moment they were close to the forest.“Master,” said the horse, “this is the time that the wild beasts are fed; they are all collected together, now we’ll jump over.”“Forward,” replied the handsome prince, “and may the Lord have mercy on us.”They flew upward and saw the palace, which glittered so that it would have been easier to look at the sun. They passed over the forest, and, just as they were descending at the palace steps, one of the horse’s hoofs lightly touched the top of a tree, which put the whole woods in motion. The wild animals began to howl till it was enough to make one’s hair bristle. They hastily alighted, and if the mistress of the palace had not been outside feeding her chickens (for that is what she called the wild beasts), they would certainly have been killed. She spared their lives out of pure pleasure, for she had never before seen a human being. Restraining the savage beasts, she soothed them, and sent them back to their haunts. She was a tall, slender, lovely fairy, quite too beautiful. When the young hero saw her, he stood still as though turned to stone. But as she gazed at him she pitied him and said:“Welcome, my handsome prince. What do you seek here?”“We seek Youth without Age and Life without Death.”Then he dismounted from his horse and entered the palace, where he found two other ladies, both of the same age, the elder sisters of the first one. He began to thank the fairy for having delivered him from danger, but she and her sisters, to show their joy, had a handsome banquet served in golden dishes. They gave the horse liberty to graze wherever it chose, and afterward made it acquainted with all the wild beasts, so that it might rove about the forest in peace. The ladies entreated the prince to stay with them, saying that it was so tiresome to be alone. He did not wait to be asked a second time, but accepted the offer with the satisfaction of a man who has found precisely what he sought.By degrees they became accustomed to live together; the prince told them his story and related what he had suffered before meeting them, and after some time he married the youngest sister. At their wedding permission was granted to him to go wherever he liked in the neighborhood; they only begged him not to enter one valley, which they pointed out, otherwise some misfortune would befall him; it was called, they said, the Valley of Lamentation.The prince spent a very long time at the palace without being aware of it, for he always remained just as young as he was when he arrived. He wandered about the woods without ever having a headache. He amused himself in the golden palace, lived in peace and quiet with his wife and her sisters, enjoyed the beauty of the flowers, and the sweet, pure air. He often went hunting; but one day, while pursuing a hare, he shot two arrows at it without hitting the animal. Angrily chasing it he discharged a third arrow, which struck it, but in his haste the luckless man had not noticed that he had passed through the Valley of Lamentation while following the game.He picked it up and turned toward home, but was suddenly seized with a longing for his father and mother. He did not venture to speak of this wish to his wife, yet by his grief and restlessness both she and her sisters instantly perceived his condition.“Oh! luckless prince, you have passed through the Valley of Lamentation,” they said in terror.“I did so, my dear ones, without meaning to be so imprudent, but now the longing to see my parents is killing me! Yet I can not forsake you. I have already spent several days with you and have no cause to complain. So I’ll go and see my parents once more, and then come back to you, never to leave you again.”“Do not quit us, beloved prince! Your parents died two or three hundred years ago, and if you go, we fear you yourself will never return; stay with us, for a presentiment of evil tells us that you will perish!”All the entreaties of the three ladies, as well as those of the horse, were unable to quiet the young hero’s longing for his parents, which was fairly consuming him alive.At last the horse said: “If you don’t listen to me, master, whatever happens to you will be your own fault. I’ll tell you something, and if you accept my condition, I’ll take you back.”“I’ll accept it with many thanks,” replied the prince; “let me hear it.”“As soon as you reach your father’s palace you will dismount, but I am to return alone in case you stay even an hour.”“Be it so,” the prince agreed.They made their preparations for the journey, the prince embraced the ladies and after having bade them farewell he rode away, but they sobbed and wept bitterly when he left them.They reached the country which had once been the kingdom of the Scorpion Witch, but found cities there; the woods had become fields; the prince questioned one person and another about the Scorpion Witch and her house, but they answered that their grandfathers had heard from their great, great grandfathers that such silly tales had once been told.“How is that possible!” replied the prince, “I came through this region myself only a short time ago,” and he told them all he knew.The people laughed at him as if he were a lunatic or a person talking in his sleep, and the prince angrily rode on without noticing that his hair and beard were growing white.When he reached the realm of the Woodpecker Fairy, the same questions and answers were exchanged. The prince could not understand how these places had altered so much in a few days, and again rode angrily on. He now had a white beard that reached to his waist, and he felt as if his feet were beginning to tremble.Quitting this country he arrived in his father’s empire. Here he found new people, new towns, and every thing so much changed that he could not recognize it. At last he came to the palace where he was born. When he dismounted, the horse kissed his hand, and said:“I wish you good health, master, I’m going back to the place from which I came. If you want to go too, mount quickly, and we’ll be off.”“Farewell, I too hope to return soon.”The horse darted away with the speed of an arrow.When the prince saw the ruined palace and the weeds growing around it, he sighed deeply and with tears in his eyes tried to remember how magnificent these places had once been. He walked around the building two or three times, tried to recollect how every room, every corner had looked, found the stable where he had discovered the horse, and then went down into the cellar, whose entrance was choked up with fallen rubbish.He groped hither and thither, holding up his eyelids with his hands, and scarcely able to totter along, while his snowy beard now fell to his knees, but found nothing except a dilapidated old chest, which he opened. It seemed empty, but as he raised the lid a voice from the bottom said: “Welcome, if you had kept me waiting much longer, I too should have gone to decay.”Then his death, which had become completely shriveled in the chest, seized him; but the prince fell lifeless on the ground and instantly crumbled into dust.
A Hind said to her Fawn, who was now well grown and strong, “My son, Nature has given you a powerful body and a stout pair of horns, and I can’t think why you are such a coward as to run away from the hounds.” Just then they both heard the sound of a pack in full cry, but at a considerable distance. “You stay where you are,” said the Hind; “never mind me”: and with that she ran off as fast as her legs could carry her.
When Siagon was about eight years old his parents began looking for a girl who would make a suitable wife. At last when they had decided on a beautiful maiden, who lived some distance from them, they sent a man to her parents to ask if they would like Siagon for a son-in-law.Now when the man arrived at the girl’s house the people were all sitting on the floor eating periwinkle, and as they sucked the meat out of the shell, they nodded their heads. The man, looking in at the door, saw them nod, and he thought they were nodding at him. So he did not tell them his errand, but returned quickly to the boy’s parents and told them that all the people at the girl’s house were favorable to the union.Siagon’s parents were very much pleased that their proposal had been so kindly received, and immediately prepared to go to the girl’s house to arrange for the wedding.Finally all was ready and they started for her house, carrying with them as presents for her parents two carabao, two horses, two cows, four iron kettles, sixteen jars of basi, two blankets, and two little pigs.The surprise of the girl’s people knew no bounds when they saw all this coming to their house, for they had not even thought of Siagon marrying their daughter.
Mr. Coyote was walking along the river’s edge one morning, when he saw two pretty young girls filling their water jars from the river. He ran up into the mountains, collected all kinds of fruit that grew there, and hurried back to the river with it. He hid in the bushes and dropped the fruit down into the water near the two girls.The girls were greatly surprised when they saw the fruit. Where had it come from, they wondered. They looked all around and could see no one, so they dipped up the fruit with their gourds and had a big feast.When they went home with their water jars the girls told their parents; “Oh, Tah and Ye-ah, we found the most delicious fruit in the river this morning. It was floating all around in the water. But we ate it all up.”Their father and mother said, “Tomorrow you must bring some fruit home to us.”The next morning when the girls went to the river with their water jars, there was not any fruit in the water. “What shall we do? Tah and Ye-ah will think we have been deceiving them and will punish us. What shall we do?”Mr. Coyote, who had been awaiting them in the bushes, just laughed. Then he trotted up into the mountains again and brought more fruit and dropped it quietly into the water. Then he laughed to see how eagerly the girls dipped it up with their gourds.The girls took the fruit home to their parents. It tasted so delicious that the father said, “Tomorrow your mother and I will go for water so that we can get the fruit.”So the next day the father and mother went down to the river with their water jars. They looked and looked, but there was no fruit in the water. Mr. Coyote, who had been waiting to see the pretty girls, saw them searching for fruit. He rolled over and over with laughter and then he ran away still chuckling.Note: Santa Clara Pueblo
Once on a time there was a poor couple who had a son whose name was Halvor. Ever since he was a little boy he would turn his hand to nothing, but just sat there and groped about in the ashes. His father and mother often put him out to learn this trade or that, but Halvor could stay nowhere; for, when he had been there a day or two, he ran away from his master, and never stopped till he was sitting again in the ingle, poking about in the cinders.Well, one day a skipper came, and asked Halvor if he hadn’t a mind to be with him, and go to sea, and see strange lands. Yes, Halvor would like that very much; so he wasn’t long in getting himself ready.How long they sailed I’m sure I can’t tell; but the end of it was, they fell into a great storm, and when it was blown over, and it got still again, they couldn’t tell where they were; for they had been driven away to a strange coast, which none of them knew anything about.Well, as there was just no wind at all, they stayed lying wind-bound there, and Halvor asked the skipper’s leave to go on shore and look about him; he would sooner go, he said, than lie there and sleep.“Do you think now you’re fit to show yourself before folk,” said the skipper, “why, you’ve no clothes but those rags you stand in?”But Halvor stuck to his own, and so at last he got leave, but he was to be sure and come back as soon as ever it began to blow. So off he went and found a lovely land; wherever he came there were fine large flat cornfields and rich meads, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of a living soul. Well, it began to blow, but Halvor thought he hadn’t seen enough yet, and he wanted to walk a little farther just to see if he couldn’t meet any folk. So after a while he came to a broad high road, so smooth and even, you might easily roll an egg along it. Halvor followed this, and when evening drew on he saw a great castle ever so far off, from which the sunbeams shone. So as he had now walked the whole day and hadn’t taken a bit to eat with him, he was as hungry as a hunter, but still the nearer he came to the castle, the more afraid he got.In the castle kitchen a great fire was blazing, and Halvor went into it, but such a kitchen he had never seen in all his born days. It was so grand and fine; there were vessels of silver and vessels of gold, but still never a living soul. So when Halvor had stood there a while and no one came out, he went and opened a door, and there inside sat a Princess who span upon a spinning-wheel.“Nay, nay, now!” she called out, “dare Christian folk come hither? But now you’d best be off about your business, if you don’t want the Troll to gobble you up; for here lives a Troll with three heads.”“All one to me,” said the lad, “I’d be just as glad to hear he had four heads beside; I’d like to see what kind of fellow he is. As for going, I won’t go at all. I’ve done no harm; but meat you must get me, for I’m almost starved to death.”When Halvor had eaten his fill, the Princess told him to try if he could brandish the sword that hung against the wall; no, he couldn’t brandish it, he couldn’t even lift it up.“Oh!” said the Princess, “now you must go and take a pull of that flask that hangs by its side; that’s what the Troll does every time he goes out to use the sword.”So Halvor took a pull, and in the twinkling of an eye he could brandish the sword like nothing; and now he thought it high time the Troll came; and lo! just then up came the Troll puffing and blowing. Halvor jumped behind the door.“Hutetu,” said the Troll, as he put his head in at the door, “what a smell of Christian man’s blood!”“Aye,” said Halvor, “you’ll soon know that to your cost,” and with that he hewed off all his heads.Now the Princess was so glad that she was free, she both danced and sang, but then all at once she called her sisters to mind, and so she said:“Would my sisters were free too!”“Where are they?” asked Halvor.Well, she told him all about it; one was taken away by a Troll to his Castle which lay fifty miles off, and the other by another Troll to his Castle which was fifty miles further still.“But now,” she said, “you must first help me to get this ugly carcass out of the house.”Yes, Halvor was so strong he swept everything away, and made it all clean and tidy in no time. So they had a good and happy time of it, and next morning he set off at peep of grey dawn; he could take no rest by the way, but ran and walked the whole day. When he first saw the Castle he got a little afraid; it was far grander than the first, but here too there wasn’t a living soul to be seen. So Halvor went into the kitchen, and didn’t stop there either, but went straight further on into the house.“Nay, nay,” called out the Princess, “dare Christian folk come hither? I don’t know I’m sure how long it is since I came here, but in all that time I haven’t seen a Christian man. ’Twere best you saw how to get away as fast as you came; for here lives a Troll who has six heads.”“I shan’t go,” said Halvor, “if he has six heads besides.”“He’ll take you up and swallow you down alive,” said the Princess.But it was no good, Halvor wouldn’t go; he wasn’t at all afraid of the Troll, but meat and drink he must have, for he was half starved after his long journey. Well, he got as much of that as he wished, but then the Princess wanted him to be off again.“No,” said Halvor, “I won’t go, I’ve done no harm, and I’ve nothing to be afraid about.”“He won’t stay to ask that,” said the Princess, “for he’ll take you without law or leave; but as you won’t go, just try if you can brandish that sword yonder, which the Troll wields in war.”He couldn’t brandish it, and then the Princess said he must take a pull at the flask which hung by its side, and when he had done that he could brandish it.Just then back came the Troll, and he was both stout and big, so that he had to go sideways to get through the door. When the Troll got his first head in he called out:“Hutetu, what a smell of Christian man’s blood!”But that very moment Halvor hewed off his first head, and so on all the rest as they popped in. The Princess was overjoyed, but just then she came to think of her sisters, and wished out loud they were free. Halvor thought that might easily be done, and wanted to be off at once; but first he had to help the Princess to get the Troll’s carcass out of the way, and so he could only set out next morning.It was a long way to the Castle, and he had to walk fast and run hard to reach it in time; but about nightfall he saw the Castle, which was far finer and grander than either of the others. This time he wasn’t the least afraid, but walked straight through the kitchen, and into the Castle. There sat a Princess who was so pretty, there was no end to her loveliness. She too like the others told him there hadn’t been Christian folk there ever since she came thither, and bade him go away again, else the Troll would swallow him alive, and do you know, she said, he has nine heads.“Aye, aye,” said Halvor, “if he had nine other heads, and nine other heads still, I won’t go away,” and so he stood fast before the stove. The Princess kept on begging him so prettily to go away, lest the Troll should gobble him up, but Halvor said:“Let him come as soon as he likes.”So she gave him the Troll’s sword, and bade him take a pull at the flask, that he might be able to brandish and wield it.Just then back came the Troll puffing and blowing and tearing along. He was far bigger and stouter than the other two, and he too had to go on one side to get through the door. So when he got his first head in, he said as the others had said:“Hutetu, what a smell of Christian man’s blood!”That very moment Halvor hewed off the first head and then all the rest; but the last was the toughest of them all, and it was the hardest bit of work Halvor had to do, to get it hewn off, although he knew very well he had strength enough to do it.So all the Princesses came together to that Castle, which was called Soria Moria Castle, and they were glad and happy as they had never been in all their lives before, and they all were fond of Halvor and Halvor of them, and he might choose the one he liked best for his bride; but the youngest was fondest of him of all the three.But there after a while, Halvor went about, and was so strange and dull and silent. Then the Princesses asked him what he lacked, and if he didn’t like to live with them any longer? Yes, he did, for they had enough and to spare, and he was well off in every way, but still somehow or other he did so long to go home, for his father and mother were alive, and them he had such a great wish to see.Well, they thought that might be done easily enough.“You shall go thither and come back hither, safe and unscathed, if you will only follow our advice,” said the Princesses.Yes, he’d be sure to mind all they said. So they dressed him up till he was as grand as a king’s son, and then they set a ring on his finger, and that was such a ring, he could wish himself thither and hither with it; but they told him to be sure and not take it off, and not to name their names, for there would be an end of all his bravery, and then he’d never see them more.“If I only stood at home I’d be glad,” said Halvor; and it was done as he had wished. Then stood Halvor at his father’s cottage door before he knew a word about it. Now it was about dusk at even, and so, when they saw such a grand stately lord walk in, the old couple got so afraid they began to bow and scrape. Then Halvor asked if he couldn’t stay there, and have a lodging there that night. No; that he couldn’t.“We can’t do it at all,” they said, “for we haven’t this thing or that thing which such a lord is used to have; ’twere best your lordship went up to the farm, no long way off, for you can see the chimneys, and there they have lots of everything.”Halvor wouldn’t hear of it—he wanted to stop; but the old couple stuck to their own, that he had better go to the farmer’s; there he would get both meat and drink; as for them, they hadn’t even a chair to offer him to sit down on.“No,” said Halvor, “I won’t go up there till to-morrow early, but let me just stay here to-night; worst come to the worst, I can sit in the chimney corner.”Well, they couldn’t say anything against that; so Halvor sat down by the ingle, and began to poke about in the ashes, just as he used to do when he lay at home in old days, and stretched his lazy bones.Well, they chattered and talked about many things; and they told Halvor about this thing and that; and so he asked them if they had never had any children.Yes, yes, they had once a lad whose name was Halvor, but they didn’t know whither he had wandered; they couldn’t even tell whether he were dead or alive.“Couldn’t it be me, now?” said Halvor.“Let me see; I could tell him well enough,” said the old wife, and rose up. “Our Halvor was so lazy and dull, he never did a thing; and besides, he was so ragged, that one tatter took hold of the next tatter on him. No; there never was the making of such a fine fellow in him as you are, master.”A little while after the old wife went to the hearth to poke up the fire, and when the blaze fell on Halvor’s face, just as when he was at home of old poking about in the ashes, she knew him at once.“Ah! but it is you after all, Halvor?” she cried; and then there was such joy for the old couple, there was no end to it; and he was forced to tell how he had fared, and the old dame was so fond and proud of him, nothing would do but he must go up at once to the farmer’s, and show himself to the lassies, who had always looked down on him. And off she went first, and Halvor followed after. So, when she got up there, she told them all how Halvor had come home again, and now they should only just see how grand he was, for, said she, “he looks like nothing but a King’s son.”“All very fine,” said the lassies, and tossed up their heads. “We’ll be bound he’s just the same beggarly ragged boy he always was.”Just then in walked Halvor, and then the lassies were all so taken aback, they forgot their sarks in the ingle, where they were sitting darning their clothes, and ran out in their smocks. Well, when they were got back again, they were so shamefaced they scarce dared look at Halvor, towards whom they had always been proud and haughty.“Aye, aye,” said Halvor, “you always thought yourselves so pretty and neat, no one could come near you; but now you should just see the eldest Princess I have set free; against her you look just like milkmaids, and the midmost is prettier still; but the youngest, who is my sweetheart, she’s fairer than both sun and moon. Would to Heaven they were only here,” said Halvor, “then you’d see what you would see.”He had scarce uttered these words before there they stood, but then he felt so sorry, for now what they had said came into his mind. Up at the farm there was a great feast got ready for the Princesses, and much was made of them, but they wouldn’t stop there.“No, we want to go down to your father and mother,” they said to Halvor; “and so we’ll go out now and look about us.”So he went down with them, and they came to a great lake just outside the farm. Close by the water was such a lovely green bank; here the Princesses said they would sit and rest a while; they thought it so sweet to sit down and look over the water.So they sat down there, and when they had sat a while the youngest Princess said:“I may as well comb your hair a little, Halvor.”Well, Halvor laid his head on her lap, and she combed his bonny locks, and it wasn’t long before Halvor fell fast asleep. Then she took the ring from his finger, and put another in its stead; and she said:“Now hold me all together! and now would we were all in Soria Moria Castle.”So when Halvor woke up, he could very well tell that he had lost the Princesses, and began to weep and wail; and he was so downcast, they couldn’t comfort him at all. In spite of all his father and mother said, he wouldn’t stop there, but took farewell of them, and said he was safe not to see them again; for if he couldn’t find the Princesses again, he thought it not worth while to live.Well, he had still about sixty pounds left, so he put them into his pocket, and set out on his way. So, when he had walked a while, he met a man with a tidy horse, and he wanted to buy it, and began to chaffer with the man.“Aye,” said the man, “to tell the truth, I never thought of selling him; but if we could strike a bargain perhaps—”“What do you want for him?” asked Halvor.“I didn’t give much for him, nor is he worth much; he’s a brave horse to ride, but he can’t draw at all; still he’s strong enough to carry your knapsack and you too, turn and turn about,” said the man.At last they agreed on the price, and Halvor laid the knapsack on him, and so he walked a bit, and rode a bit, turn and turn about. At night he came to a green plain where stood a great tree, at the roots of which he sat down. There he let the horse loose, but he didn’t lie down to sleep, but opened his knapsack and took a meal. At peep of day off he set again, for he could take no rest. So he rode and walked and walked and rode the whole day through the wide wood, where there were so many green spots and glades that shone so bright and lovely between the trees. He didn’t know at all where he was or whither he was going, but he gave himself no more time to rest than when his horse cropped a bit of grass, and he took a snack out of his knapsack when they came to one of those green glades. So he went on walking and riding by turns, and as for the wood there seemed to be no end to it.But at dusk the next day he saw a light gleaming away through the trees.“Would there were folk hereaway,” thought Halvor, “that I might warm myself a bit and get a morsel to keep body and soul together.”When he got up to it he saw the light came from a wretched little hut, and through the window he saw an old old, couple inside. They were as grey-headed as a pair of doves, and the old wife had such a nose! why, it was so long she used it for a poker to stir the fire as she sat in the ingle.“Good evening,” said Halvor.“Good evening,” said the old wife.“But what errand can you have in coming hither?” she went on, “for no Christian folk have been here these hundred years and more.”Well, Halvor told her all about himself, and how he wanted to get to Soria Moria Castle, and asked if she knew the way thither.“No,” said the old wife, “that I don’t, but see now, here comes the Moon, I’ll ask her, she’ll know all about it, for doesn’t she shine on everything?”So when the Moon stood clear and bright over the tree-tops, the old wife went out.“Thou Moon, thou Moon,” she screamed, “canst thou tell me the way to Soria Moria Castle?”“No,” said the Moon, “that I can’t, for the last time I shone there a cloud stood before me.”“Wait a bit still,” said the old wife to Halvor, “bye and bye comes the West Wind; he’s sure to know it, for he puffs and blows round every corner.”“Nay, nay,” said the old wife when she went out again, “you don’t mean to say you’ve got a horse too; just turn the poor beastie loose in our ‘toun,’ and don’t let him stand there and starve to death at the door.”Then she ran on:“But won’t you swop him away to me?—we’ve got an old pair of boots here, with which you can take twenty miles at each stride; those you shall have for your horse, and so you’ll get all the sooner to Soria Moria Castle.”That Halvor was willing to do at once; and the old wife was so glad at having the horse, she was ready to dance and skip for joy.“For now,” she said, “I shall be able to ride to church. I, too, think of that.”As for Halvor, he had no rest, and wanted to be off at once, but the old wife said there was no hurry.“Lie down on the bench with you and sleep a bit, for we’ve no bed to offer you, and I’ll watch and wake you when the West Wind comes.”So after a while up came the West Wind, roaring and howling along till the walls creaked and groaned again.Out ran the old wife.“Thou West Wind, thou West Wind! Canst thou tell me the way to Soria Moria Castle? Here’s one who wants to get thither.”“Yes, I know it very well,” said the West Wind, “and now I’m just off thither to dry clothes for the wedding that’s to be; if he’s swift of foot he can go along with me.”Out ran Halvor.“You’ll have to stretch your legs if you mean to keep up,” said the West Wind.So off he set over field and hedge, and hill and fell, and Halvor had hard work to keep up.“Well,” said the West Wind, “now I’ve no time to stay with you any longer, for I’ve got to go away yonder and tear down a strip of spruce wood first before I go to the bleaching-ground to dry the clothes; but if you go alongside the hill you’ll come to a lot of lassies standing washing clothes, and then you’ve not far to go to Soria Moria Castle.”In a little while Halvor came upon the lassies who stood washing, and they asked if he had seen anything of the West Wind who was to come and dry the clothes for the wedding.“Aye, aye, that I have,” said Halvor, “he’s only gone to tear down a strip of spruce wood. It’ll not be long before he’s here,” and then he asked them the way to Soria Moria Castle.So they put him into the right way, and when he got to the Castle it was full of folk and horses; so full it made one giddy to look at them. But Halvor was so ragged and torn from having followed the West Wind through bush and brier and bog, that he kept on one side, and wouldn’t show himself till the last day when the bridal feast was to be.So when all, as was then right and fitting, were to drink the bride and bridegroom’s health and wish them luck, and when the cupbearer was to drink to them all again, both knights and squires, last of all he came in turn to Halvor. He drank their health, but let the ring which the Princess had put upon his finger as he lay by the lake fall into the glass, and bade the cupbearer go and greet the bride and hand her the glass.Then up rose the Princess from the board at once.“Who is most worthy to have one of us,” she said, “he that has set us free, or he that here sits by me as bridegroom?”Well they all said there could be but one voice and will as to that, and when Halvor heard that he wasn’t long in throwing off his beggar’s rags, and arraying himself as bridegroom.“Aye, aye, here is the right one after all,” said the youngest Princess as soon as she saw him, and so she tossed the other one out of the window, and held her wedding with Halvor.
Long ago, when Glooskap was the ruler of the Indians in Eastern Canada, and when the animals all worked for him and talked like men, Wolf was one of Rabbit’s enemies. On the surface they seemed to be friends, but each was afraid of the other and each suspected the other of treachery. Rabbit was very faithful to his work as the forest guide who showed people the way to far places. But he was also a great trickster, and he delighted to play pranks on every one he met. He liked more than all to pester Wolf, for he had a hatred for his cruel ways, and he was always able to outwit him.It happened that Rabbit and Wolf lived close together, deep in the Canadian forest. Some distance from them, in a little house, lived a poor widow woman who had only one daughter. She was a very beautiful girl, with hair as black as the raven’s wing, and with eyes like the dark of the underwater. Rabbit and Wolf each fell in love with her, and each in his own way sought her as his wife. Rabbit tried hard to win her love. When he went to her house he always dressed himself in a soft brown coat, and he put a bangle around his neck and bells upon his feet. And often he played sweetly on his flute, hoping to charm her with his music, for he was a great player upon the Indian pipe. And he tried to grow a mustache to hide his split lip; but he had little success, for his whiskers would not grow thick, and he has the thin scraggy mustache of a few hairs to this day. But no matter what Rabbit did to adorn himself, the girl gave him cold looks, and old Wolf seemed to be deeper in her favour, for she liked his willowy form and his sleek and bashful ways. And poor Rabbit was sore distressed.One fine day in the spring-time, Rabbit came upon the girl and her mother gathering May-flowers among the moss. He crept close to listen to their talk. He heard the mother say, “I have no stomach for little Rabbit, but Wolf pleases me well. You must marry Wolf. They tell me he is a great hunter, and if you marry him we shall never want for food.”When Rabbit heard this he was very sad; he determined that on no account should Wolf marry the widow’s daughter, and that he must use all his power to prevent it. That night he went alone to the girl’s house. He spoke sneeringly of Wolf, saying with a bitter frown, “Wolf is no hunter; he never catches any game because he is lazy and has no brains; I always have to feed him to keep him from starving; he is but a beast of burden; I always ride upon his back when I go to a far country, for he is good for nothing else.”The girl’s mother wondered greatly, and she was very startled by this news, for she did not want her daughter to marry a good-for-nothing; but she was not sure that Rabbit spoke the truth, for she had heard that sometimes he told great lies. So she said, “If you will ride Wolf over here I will believe you, and he shall not marry my daughter, and you shall marry her yourself.” And Rabbit went home well pleased and sure of a happy ending to his trick.The next day Rabbit purposely met Wolf in the forest, and he said, “Let us go together to see the widow’s daughter.” And Wolf was glad to go. They had not gone far when Rabbit began to cry. Then he lay down on the ground, and rolled and moaned and rubbed his belly as if in great distress. “I have a sharp pain in my belly,” he sobbed, “I cannot walk any farther. If I walk I shall surely die, and I cannot go on unless you carry me on your back.”Wolf willingly agreed, for he wanted to see the beautiful girl, and he was very sorry for poor Rabbit in his pain; and Rabbit, laughing to himself, climbed on Wolf’s back. Wolf ran along, not feeling the load, for Rabbit was very light. They had not gone far when Rabbit cried again and said, “I cannot ride without a saddle, for your bare back hurts me and gives me blisters.” So they borrowed a little saddle from a field by the way and put it on Wolf’s back. Soon Rabbit said, “This is fine fun; let us play that you are a horse and that I am a great rider. I should like to put a little bridle on you, and to wear spurs on my feet and to carry a whip.”“Wolf trotting along like a little horse, and Rabbit laughing to himself, sitting in the saddle.” Illustration by Marcia Lane Foster, published in Canadian Wonder Tales by Cyrus MacMillan (1922), John LaneAnd Wolf, wishing to please Rabbit to make him forget his pain, gladly agreed. So they borrowed a little bridle and spurs and a whip from another field near by, and did as Rabbit asked, and together they went to the girl’s home, Wolf trotting along like a little horse, and Rabbit laughing to himself, sitting in the saddle, with his spurs and his whip, holding the bridle reins. When they drew near the house, Rabbit made a great noise so that the mother and her daughter might look out to see where the shouting came from. He called loudly, “Whoa, Whoa.” And the girl and her mother opened the door and looked out at them in wonder. Then as they were looking on, Rabbit, chuckling to himself, struck Wolf a stinging blow with his whip, and stuck his spurs deep into Wolf’s sides and called him loudly a lazy beast. Wolf jumped and plunged and kicked because of the prick of the spurs and the sting of the whip; he was very cross, but he said nothing.Some distance away, Rabbit tied Wolf to a tree, saying, “Stay here and I will send the girl to you.” Then he went to the house, and he said to the woman, “Now you will believe that Wolf is a beast of burden, for I have ridden here on his back.” And the woman believed him. She told him to give Wolf some corn or grass. But Rabbit said, “He doesn’t eat corn or grass; he eats only fresh meat,” for he knew well that Wolf would be quite contented if he got a good meal of meat. Then she gave him some fresh meat, which he brought to Wolf. And Wolf was happy, and his anger disappeared, and he forgot the pain of the spurs and the whip, and he thought it was fine fun to get a good meal so easily.The woman promised that Rabbit should marry her daughter, and when night fell Rabbit went home well pleased, leaving Wolf still tied to the tree. It was so dark that Wolf did not see him leaving the house, and for a long time he thought he was still inside, and he waited long in the starlight. At last he grew tired waiting, for he was hungry and he was cold standing still in the chill night air of early spring. He cut with his teeth the bridle rein that tied him to the tree, and then he went to the woman’s house. But the woman would not let him in. She told him to go away, that she never wished to see him again, and she called him a lazy beast of burden. He went home in great anger, for he knew now that he had been tricked, and he swore that he would have vengeance on Rabbit.The next day Rabbit learned from the woman that she had spurned Wolf from her door, and he knew that Wolf realized he had been deceived. He was somewhat frightened, for he dreaded Wolf’s vengeance, and for several days he hid among the trees. Then hunger drove him out and he went forth to look for food. One evening he entered a garden in search of cabbage, and he was busy robbing it, when the people who owned the garden spied him. And they said, “Here is the thief who has been stealing our vegetables. We will catch him and teach him a lesson.”Before Rabbit knew it, they were upon him, for he was eating heartily, he was so hungry, and they caught him and bound him fast to a tree and went to get scalding water to pour upon his back to teach him not to rob their garden again. But while they were away Wolf came along. He, too, was very hungry, for he had eaten no meal for many days, but he was glad when he saw Rabbit, for now he thought he would have his revenge. Rabbit saw him at a distance, and he resolved to try another trick on him, and to hail him as if he thought he was still his friend. And he cried out to him, “Help me, Wolf! Help me! The people here asked me to eat up a nice little lamb, and when I refused to do it, they tied me up to this tree, and they have gone to bring the lamb to me.”Wolf was too hungry to be cautious, and he forgot all about Rabbit’s tricks, for spring lamb was his favorite food. And he said, “I will eat up the little lamb,” and he smacked his lips as he spoke, and thought of the nice tender meal he would have. Then Rabbit said, “Untie me and take my place, for the people will soon be here with the lamb.” So Wolf untied him, and Rabbit in turn bound Wolf fast to the tree, and laughing to himself because he had again outwitted stupid Wolf, he ran rapidly away.Far off he hid behind the trees to see what would happen. Soon the people came back, carrying the pots of scalding water. Wolf saw them coming, and he was in high spirits, for he thought the lamb he was to eat was in one of the pots. It was moonlight, and in the shadow of the great tree the people could not see very clearly, and they thought Wolf was Rabbit, still bound fast where they had left him. So they poured the scalding water on his back and kicked him and knocked him on the head with a big stick, and they said, “Now, thief, we have taught you how dangerous it is to rob gardens in the spring moonlight.” Wolf howled with pain, for his back was blistered and his head was sore, and Rabbit heard him, and he sat on a log and shook with laughter because of the success of his prank.Then the people untied Wolf and let him go. He went away wearily among the trees. And he again swore vengeance on Rabbit, and he resolved to kill him as soon as he set eyes upon him, for he knew he had been tricked a second time. For several days he searched for his enemy. At last, one night of bright moonlight, he came upon Rabbit sitting in a patch of Indian tobacco plants, eating his fill and contentedly chewing the tobacco leaves. Rabbit’s mouth was full of tobacco, but he laughed loudly when he saw Wolf’s back bound in bandages because of the blisters, and his sore head tied up in a cloth. But when he saw Wolf’s angry eyes, he was frightened, and he ran away into the woods. The moon was shining in the forest, and Wolf could catch a glimpse now and then of his brown coat among the trees, and he chased him for a long time.Rabbit tried all his tricks to shake him from his tracks, but without avail. At last, when Rabbit was almost worn out, he took refuge in a hollow tree, into which he slipped through a small hole, where Wolf could not follow him. And Wolf said, “Now I have him in my power. I will kill him; but first I must go home to get my axe to cut down the tree and chop off his head.” Then he looked around for some one to keep watch over the tree while he was gone, so that Rabbit could not escape. At last he saw Owl sitting quietly on a branch near. He called to him and said, “Watch by this hole until I get back, and do not let Rabbit get away.” So Owl came down and sat by the hole and promised to keep guard over the prisoner, and Wolf went away to look for his axe.But Rabbit was not caught yet; he had another trick left. After Wolf had gone away, he called to Owl sitting by the hole, and said, “Owl, come and see what a nice little room I have here in the tree.” But Owl replied, “It is too dark, I cannot see.” Then Rabbit said, “Open your eyes wide and put your face close to the hole, for I have a light here and you can see easily.” Owl did as he was told, for he was a curious fellow. Rabbit had a great mouthful of tobacco juice from the Indian tobacco leaves he had been chewing, and when Owl put his face close to the hole he squirted the juice into Owl’s eyes. Owl screamed loudly, for his eyes were smarting and he was blinded by the juice; he ran around the tree and stamped and shrieked and rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve them of their pain. And while he was about it, Rabbit slipped out of the hole and ran away, and Owl did not know he was gone.Soon Wolf came back, carrying his big sharp axe. And he said, “Now I shall kill him at last.” And Owl was afraid to tell him about his sore eyes; they were still open wide, and he could not close them. At once Wolf chopped down the hollow tree. Then he split it open from end to end. But there was no sign of Rabbit. Wolf then thought Owl had tricked him, and that he had helped Rabbit to escape. But Owl said he had not. He sat with his eyes wide open, staring stupidly and moaning and making strange noises because of his pain. Wolf thought he was laughing at him and taunting him, for he did not know the meaning of Owl’s strange cries, and in his rage he fell to beating him over the head with his axe-handle until poor Owl’s head was swollen to a great size. And Owl cried, “Hoot, Hoot, Hoot,” and his eyes stared from his swollen head even larger than before.Then Wolf went on his way, resolved to keep away from Rabbit. And since that time Owl has cried “Hoot, Hoot, Hoot” at night, for he still remembers his pain; and his head is still swollen and bigger than that of other birds because of the beating Wolf gave him with his axe-handle; and his eyes are still large and they stare stupidly, and he cannot look at the light, and he is blind in the daylight because of the tobacco juice Rabbit squirted into his eyes. And since that night Rabbit and Wolf have avoided each other, and they have not lived in the same place, and they have never since been friends.
There was once a poor woman who had twin daughters. The girls were exactly alike in face and feature but utterly different in disposition. Dobrunka was kind, industrious, obedient, and everything a good girl ought to be. Zloboha, her sister, was spiteful, disobedient, lazy, and proud. In fact, she had just about as many faults as a person could have. Yet strange to say the mother loved Zloboha much better and made everything easy for her.“The girls were exactly alike in face and feature but utterly different in disposition.” Illustration by Jan Matulka, published in Czechoslovak Fairy Tales by Parker Fillmore (1919), Harcourt, Brace and Company.They lived in a cottage a few miles from town. The cottage stood by itself in a little clearing in the woods. Hardly any one ever passed it except occasionally some man who had lost his way in the woods.The mother put her favorite, Zloboha, out to service so that she might learn city ways, but she kept Dobrunka at home to do the housework and take care of the garden. Dobrunka always began the day by feeding the goats, then she prepared the breakfast, swept the kitchen, and when everything else was done she sat down at her spinning wheel and spun.She seldom benefited from the yarn she spun so carefully, for her mother always sold it in town and spent the money on clothes for Zloboha. Yet Dobrunka loved her mother although she never had a kind word or a kind look from her the whole day long. She always obeyed her mother instantly and without a frown and no one ever heard her complain about all the work she had to do.One day when her mother was going to town Dobrunka went part of the way with her, carrying her yarn wrapped up in a kerchief.“Now see that you’re not lazy while I’m away,” her mother said, crossly.“You know, mother, you never have to nag at me. Today when I finish the housework, I’ll spin so industriously that you’ll be more than satisfied when you get home.”She handed her yarn to her mother and went back to the cottage. Then when she had put the kitchen in order, she sat down to her wheel and began to spin. Dobrunka had a pretty voice, as pretty as any of the song-birds in the forest, and always when she was alone she sang. So today as she sat spinning she sang all the songs she knew, one after the other.Suddenly she heard outside the trample of a horse. “Some one is coming,” she thought to herself, “someone who has lost his way in the woods. I’ll go see.”She got up from her wheel and peeped out through the small window. A young man was just dismounting from a spirited horse.“Oh,” thought Dobrunka to herself, “what a handsome young lord he is! How well his leather coat fits him! How well his cap with its white feather looks on his black hair! Ah, he is tying his horse and is coming in. I must slip back to my spinning.”The next moment the young man opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. All this happened a long time ago, you see, when there were no locks or bars on the doors, and there didn’t have to be because nothing was ever stolen.“Good day to you, my girl,” the young man said to Dobrunka.“Good day, sir,” Dobrunka answered. “What is it, sir, you want?”“Will you please get me a little water. I’m very thirsty.”“Certainly,” Dobrunka said. “Won’t you sit down while I’m getting it?”She ran off, got the pitcher, rinsed it out, and drew some fresh water from the well.“I wish I could give you something better, sir.”“Nothing could taste better than this,” he said, handing her back the empty pitcher. “See, I have taken it all.”Dobrunka put the pitcher away and the young man, while her back was turned, slipped a leather bag, full of money, into the bed.“I thank you for the drink,” he said, as he rose to go. “I’ll come again tomorrow if you’ll let me.”“Come if you want to,” Dobrunka said, modestly.He took her hand, held it a moment, then leaped upon his horse and galloped off.Dobrunka sat down again to her wheel and tried to work, but her mind wandered. The image of the young man kept rising before her eyes and I have to confess that, for an expert spinner, she broke her thread pretty often.Her mother came home in the evening full of praises of Zloboha, who, she said, was growing prettier day by day. Everybody in town admired her and she was fast learning city ways and city manners. It was Zloboha this and Zloboha that for hours.Finally the old woman remarked: “They say there was a great hunting party out today. Did you hear anything of it?”“Oh, yes,” Dobrunka said. “I forgot to tell you that a young huntsman stopped here to ask for a drink. He was handsomely dressed in leather. You know once when I was in town with you we saw a whole company of men in leather coats with white feathers in their caps. No doubt this young man belonged to the hunting party. When he had his drink, he jumped on his horse and rode off.”Dobrunka forgot to mention that he had taken her hand in parting and promised to come back next day.When Dobrunka was preparing the bed for the night, the bag of money fell out. In great surprise she picked it up and handed it to her mother.The old woman looked at her sharply.“Dobrunka, who gave you all this money?”“Nobody gave it to me, mother. Perhaps the huntsman slipped it into the bed. I don’t know where else it could have come from.”The old woman emptied the bag on the table. They were all gold pieces.“Good heavens, so much!” she murmured in amazement. “He must be a very rich young lord! Perhaps he saw how poor we were and thought to do a kind deed. May God grant him happiness!”She gathered the money together and hid it in the chest.Usually when Dobrunka went to bed after her day’s work she fell asleep at once, but tonight she lay awake thinking of the handsome young rider. When she did at last fall asleep it was to dream of him. He was a powerful young lord, it seemed to her, in her dream. He lived in a great palace and she, Dobrunka, was his wife. She thought that they were giving a fine banquet to which all the nobles in the land had been invited. She and her husband arose from the table and went together into another room. He was about to put his arms about her and embrace her when suddenly a black cat sprang between them and buried its claws in Dobrunka’s breast. Her heart’s blood spurted out and stained her white dress. She cried out in fright and pain and the cry awoke her.“What a strange dream,” she thought to herself. “I wonder what it means. It began so beautifully but the cruel cat spoiled it all. I fear it bodes something ill.”In the morning when she got up, she was still thinking of it.On other mornings it didn’t take Dobrunka long to dress but this morning she was very slow. She shook out her fresh skirt again and again. She had the greatest trouble in putting on her bodice just right. She spent much time on her hair, into which she plaited the red ribbon that she usually kept for holidays. When at last she was dressed and ready to go about her household duties she looked very fresh and sweet.As midday came, she found it hard to sit still at her wheel, but kept jumping up on any pretext whatever to run outdoors a moment to see if the young horseman was in sight.At last she did see him at a distance and, oh, how she hurried back to her stool so that he would never think that she was watching for him.He rode into the yard, tied his horse, and came into the cottage.“Good day, Dobrunka,” he said, speaking very gently and very respectfully.Dobrunka’s heart was beating so fast that she feared it would jump out of her body. Her mother was in the woods gathering fagots, so she was again alone with him. She managed to return his greeting and to ask him to sit down. Then she went back to her spinning.The young man came over to her and took her hand.“How did you sleep, Dobrunka?”“Very well, sir.”“Did you dream?”“Yes, I had a very strange dream.”“Tell me about it. I can explain dreams very well.”“But I can’t tell this dream to you,” Dobrunka said.“Because it’s about you.”“That’s the very reason you ought to tell me,” the young man said.He urged her and begged her until at last Dobrunka did tell him the dream.“Well now,” he said, “that dream of yours except the part about the cat can be realized easily enough.”Dobrunka laughed. “How could I ever become a fine lady?”“By marrying me,” the young man said.Dobrunka blushed. “Now, sir, you are joking.”“No, Dobrunka, this is no joke. I really mean it. I came back this morning to ask you to marry me. Will you?”Dobrunka was too surprised to speak, but when the young man took her hand she did not withdraw it.Just then the old woman came in. The young man greeted her and without any delay declared his intentions. He said he loved Dobrunka and wished to make her his wife and that all he and Dobrunka were waiting for was the mother’s consent.“I have my own house,” he added, “and am well able to take care of a wife. And for you too, dear mother, there will always be room in my house and at my table.”The old woman listened to all he had to say and then very promptly gave her blessing.“Then, my dear one,” the young man said to Dobrunka, “go back to your spinning and when you have spun enough for your wedding shift, I shall come for you.”He kissed her, gave his hand to her mother, and, springing on his horse, rode away.From that time the old woman treated Dobrunka more kindly. She even went so far as to spend on Dobrunka a little of the money the young man had given them, but most of it, of course, went for clothes for Zloboha.But in those happy days Dobrunka wasn’t worrying about anything as unimportant as money. She sat at her wheel and spun away thinking all the while of her fine young lover. Time sped quickly and before she knew it she had spun enough for her wedding shift.The very day she was finished her lover came. She heard the trample of his horse and ran out to meet him.“Have you spun enough for your wedding shift?” he asked her as he took her to his heart.“Yes,” Dobrunka said, “I have.”“Then you can ride away with me this moment.”“This moment!” Dobrunka gasped. “Why so quickly?”“It has to be, my dear one. Tomorrow I go off to war and want you to take my place at home. Then when I come back you’ll be there to greet me as my wife.”“But what will my mother say to this?”“She will have to consent.”They went into the cottage and spoke to the old woman. She was far from pleased with this arrangement, for she had worked out a very different plan in her mind. But what could she do? A rich young bridegroom always has his own way. So she hid her disappointment with a false smile and gave them her blessing.Then the young man said to her: “Get your things together, mother, and follow Dobrunka, for I don’t want her to be lonely while I’m gone. When you get to the city, go to the palace and ask for Dobromil. The people there will tell you where to go.”Dobrunka with tears streaming down her cheeks bid her mother good-by. Dobromil lifted her to the saddle in front of him and away they went like the wind.The town was in great excitement. There was much hurrying to and fro as the troops were being put in readiness for the morrow. A crowd had gathered at the palace gates and as a young man came galloping up, holding in front of him a lady lovely as the day, the shout went up:“Here he is! Here he is!”The people in the courtyard took up the cry and as Dobromil rode through the gate all of them with one voice shouted out:“Long live our beautiful queen! Long live our noble king!”Dobrunka was struck with amazement.“Are you really the king, Dobromil?” she asked, looking into his proud and happy face.“Yes,” he said. “Aren’t you glad that I am?”“I love you,” Dobrunka said, “and so whatever you are makes no difference to me. But why did you deceive me?”“I did not deceive you. I told you that your dream would be realized if you took me for your husband.”In those early times marriage was a simple affair. When a man and woman loved each other and their parents consented to their union, they were looked upon as married. So Dobromil now was able to present Dobrunka to his people as his wife.There was great rejoicing, music played, and there was feasting and drinking in the banquet hall until dawn. The next day the young husband kissed his lovely bride farewell and rode off to war.Left alone the young queen strayed through the magnificent palace like a lost lamb. She would have felt more at home rambling through the woods and awaiting the return of her husband in a little cottage than here where she was a lonely stranger. Yet she was not a stranger long, for within half a day she had won every heart by her sweetness and goodness.The next day she sent for her mother and the old woman soon arrived bringing with her Dobrunka’s spinning wheel. So now there was no more excuse for loneliness.Dobrunka supposed that her mother would be made very happy to find what good fortune had befallen her daughter. The old woman pretended she was, but in her heart she was furious that a king had married Dobrunka and not Zloboha.After a few days she said, very artfully, to Dobrunka: “I know, my dear daughter, that you think your sister, Zloboha, was not always kind to you in times past. She’s sorry now and I want you to forgive her and invite her here to the palace.”“I should have asked her before this,” said Dobrunka, “but I didn’t suppose she wanted to come. If you wish it, we’ll go for her at once.”“Yes, dear daughter, I do wish it.”So the queen ordered the carriage and off they went to fetch Zloboha. When they came to the edge of the woods they alighted and ordered the coachman to await them there. They went on afoot to the cottage where Zloboha was expecting them.Zloboha came running out to meet them. She threw her arms about her sister’s neck and kissed her and wished her happiness. Then the wicked sister and the wicked mother led poor unsuspecting Dobrunka into the house. Once inside Zloboha took a knife that she had ready and struck Dobrunka. Then they cut off Dobrunka’s hands and feet, gouged out her eyes, and hid her poor mutilated body in the woods. Zloboha and her mother wrapped up the hands and the feet and the eyes to carry them back with them to the palace because they believed that it would be easier for them to deceive the king if they had with them something that had belonged to Dobrunka.Then Zloboha put on Dobrunka’s clothes and she and her mother rode back to town in the carriage and nobody could tell that she wasn’t Dobrunka. In the palace the attendants soon whispered to each other that their mistress was kinder to them at first, but they suspected nothing.In the meantime poor Dobrunka, who was not quite dead, had been found by a hermit and carried by him to a cave. She awoke to feel a kind hand soothing her wounds and putting some reviving drops between her lips. Of course, she could not see who it was, for she had no eyes. As she regained consciousness she remembered what had happened and began bitterly to upbraid her unnatural mother and her cruel sister.“Be quiet. Do not complain,” a low voice said. “All will yet be well.”“How can all be well,” wept poor Dobrunka, “when I have no eyes and no feet and no hands? I shall never again see the bright sun and the green woods. I shall never again hold in my arms my beloved Dobromil. Nor shall I be able to spin fine flax for his shirts! Oh, what did I ever do to you, wicked mother, or to you, cruel sister, that you have done this to me?”The hermit went to the entrance of the cave and called three times. Soon a boy came running in answer to the call.“Wait here till I come back,” the hermit said.He returned in a short time with a golden spinning wheel in his arms. He said to the boy:“My son, take this spinning wheel to town to the king’s palace. Sit down in the courtyard near the gate and if any one asks you for how much you will sell the wheel, say: ‘For two eyes.’ Unless you are offered two eyes for it bring it back.”The boy took the spinning wheel and carried it to town as the hermit directed. He went to the palace and sat down in the courtyard near the gate, just as Zloboha and her mother were returning from a walk.“Look, mother!” Zloboha cried. “What a gorgeous spinning wheel! I could spin on that myself! Wait. I’ll ask whether it’s for sale.”She went over to the boy and asked him would he sell the spinning wheel.“Yes,” he said, “if I get what I want.”“What do you want?”“I want two eyes.”“Two eyes?”“Yes, two eyes. My father told me to accept nothing for it but two eyes. So I can’t sell it for money.”The longer Zloboha looked at the spinning wheel the more beautiful it seemed to her and the more she wanted it. Suddenly she remembered Dobrunka’s eyes that she had hidden away.“Mother,” she said, “as a queen I ought to have something no one else has. When the king comes home he will want me to spin, and just think how lovely I should look sitting at this golden wheel. Now we’ve got those eyes of Dobrunka’s. Let us exchange them for the golden spinning wheel. We’ll still have the hands and feet.”The mother, who was as foolish as the daughter, agreed. So Zloboha got the eyes and gave them to the boy for the spinning wheel.The boy hurried back to the forest and handed the eyes to the hermit. The old man took them and gently put them into place. Instantly Dobrunka could see.The first thing she saw was the old hermit himself with his tall spare figure and long white beard. The last rays of the setting sun shone through the opening of the cave and lighted up his grave and gentle face. He looked to Dobrunka like one of God’s own saints.“How can I ever repay you?” she said, “for all your loving kindness? Oh, that I could cover your hands with kisses!”“Be quiet, my child,” the old man said. “If you are patient all will yet be well.”He went out and soon returned with some delicious fruit on a wooden plate. This he carried over to the bed of leaves and moss upon which Dobrunka was lying and with his own hands he fed Dobrunka as a mother would feed her helpless child. Then he gave her a drink from a wooden cup.Early the next morning the hermit again called three times and the boy came running at once. This time the hermit handed him a golden distaff and said:“Take this distaff and go to the palace. Sit down in the courtyard near the gate. If any one asks you what you want for the distaff, say two feet and don’t exchange it for anything else.”Zloboha was standing at a window of the palace looking down into the courtyard when she saw the boy with a golden distaff.“Mother!” she cried. “Come and see! There’s that boy again sitting near the gate and this time he has a golden distaff!”Mother and daughter at once went out to question the boy.“What do you want for the distaff?” Zloboha asked.“Two feet,” the boy said.“Two feet?”“Yes, two feet.”“Tell me, what will your father do with two feet?”“I don’t know. I never ask my father what he does with anything. But whatever he tells me to do, I do. That is why I can’t exchange the distaff for anything but two feet.”“Listen, mother,” Zloboha said, “now that I have a golden spinning wheel, I ought to have a golden distaff to go with it. You know we have those two feet of Dobrunka’s hidden away. What if I gave them to the boy? We shall still have Dobrunka’s hands.”“Well, do as you please,” the old woman said.So Zloboha went and got Dobrunka’s feet, wrapped them up, and gave them to the boy in exchange for the distaff. Delighted with her bargain, Zloboha went to her chamber and the boy hurried back to the forest.He gave the feet to the hermit and the old man carried them at once inside the cave. Then he rubbed Dobrunka’s wounds with some healing salve and stuck on the feet. Dobrunka wanted to jump up from the couch and walk but the old man restrained her.“Lie quiet where you are until you are all well and then I’ll let you get up.”Dobrunka knew that whatever the old hermit said was for her good, so she rested as he ordered.On the third morning the hermit called the boy and gave him a golden spindle.“Go to the palace again,” he said, “and today offer this spindle for sale. If any one asks you what you want for the spindle, say two hands. Don’t accept anything else.”The boy took the golden spindle and when he reached the palace and sat down in the courtyard near the gate, Zloboha ran up to him at once.“What do you want for that spindle?” she asked.“Two hands,” the boy said.“It’s a strange thing you won’t sell anything for money.”“I have to ask what my father tells me to ask.”Zloboha was in a quandary. She wanted the golden spindle, for it was very beautiful. It would go well with the spinning wheel and would be something to be proud of. Yet she didn’t want to be left without anything that had belonged to Dobrunka.“But really, mother,” she whined, “I don’t see why I have to keep something of Dobrunka’s so that Dobromil will love me as he loved her. I’m sure I’m as pretty as Dobrunka ever was.”“Well,” said the old woman, “it would be better if you kept them. I’ve often heard that’s a good way to guard a man’s love. However, do as you like.”For a moment Zloboha was undecided. Then, tossing her head, she ran and got the hands and gave them to the boy.Zloboha took the spindle and, delighted with her bargain, carried it into her chamber where she had the wheel and distaff. The old woman was a little troubled, for she feared Zloboha had acted foolishly. But Zloboha, confident of her beauty and her ability to charm the king, only laughed at her.As soon as the boy had delivered the hands to the hermit, the old man carried them into the cave. Then he anointed the wounds on Dobrunka’s arms with the same healing salve that he used before, and stuck on the hands.As soon as Dobrunka could move them she jumped up from the couch and, falling at the hermit’s feet, she kissed the hands that had been so good to her.“A thousand thanks to you, my benefactor!” she cried with tears of joy in her eyes. “I can never repay you, I know that, but ask of me anything I can do and I’ll do it.”“I ask nothing,” the old man said, gently raising her to her feet. “What I did for you I would do for any one. I only did my duty. So say no more about it. And now, my child, farewell. You are to stay here until some one comes for you. Have no concern for food. I shall send you what you need.”Dobrunka wanted to say something to him, but he disappeared and she never saw him again.Now she was able to run out of the cave and look once more upon God’s green world. Now for the first time in her life she knew what it meant to be strong and well. She threw herself on the ground and kissed it. She hugged the slender birches and danced around them, simply bursting with love for every living thing. She reached out longing hands towards the town and would probably have gone there running all the distance but she remembered the words of the old hermit and knew that she must stay where she was.Meanwhile strange things were happening at the palace. Messengers brought word that the king was returning from war and there was great rejoicing on every side. The king’s own household was particularly happy, for service under the new mistress was growing more unpleasant every day. As for Zloboha and her mother, it must be confessed that they were a little frightened over the outcome of their plot.Finally the king arrived. Zloboha with smiling face went to meet him. He took her to his heart with great tenderness and from that moment Zloboha had no fear that he would recognize her.A great feast was at once prepared, for the king had brought home with him many of his nobles to rest and make merry after the hardships of war.Zloboha as she sat at Dobromil’s side could not take her eyes off him. The handsome young soldier caught her fancy and she was rejoiced that she had put Dobrunka out of the way.When they finished feasting, Dobromil asked her: “What have you been doing all this time, my dear Dobrunka? I’m sure you’ve been spinning.”“That’s true, my dear husband,” Zloboha said in a flattering tone. “My old spinning wheel got broken, so I bought a new one, a lovely golden one.”“You must show me it at once,” the king said, and he took Zloboha’s arm and led her away.He went with her to her chamber where she had the golden spinning wheel and she took it out and showed it to him. Dobromil admired it greatly.“Sit down, Dobrunka,” he said, “and spin. I should like to see you again at the distaff.”Zloboha at once sat down behind the wheel. She put her foot to the treadle and started the wheel. Instantly the wheel sang out and this is what it sang:“Master, master, don’t believe her!She’s a cruel and base deceiver!She is not your own sweet wife!She destroyed Dobrunka’s life!”Zloboha sat stunned and motionless while the king looked wildly about to see where the song came from.When he could see nothing, he told her to spin some more. Trembling, she obeyed. Hardly had she put her foot to the treadle when the voice again sang out:“Master, master, don’t believe her!She’s a cruel and base deceiver!She has killed her sister goodAnd hid her body in the wood!”Beside herself with fright, Zloboha wanted to flee the spinning wheel, but Dobromil restrained her. Suddenly her face grew so hideous with fear that Dobromil saw she was not his own gentle Dobrunka. With a rough hand he forced her back to the stool and in a stern voice ordered her to spin.Again she turned the fatal wheel and then for the third time the voice sang out:“Master, master, haste away!To the wood without delay!In a cave your wife, restored,Yearns for you, her own true lord!”At those words Dobromil released Zloboha and ran like mad out of the chamber and down into the courtyard where he ordered his swiftest horse to be saddled instantly. The attendants, frightened by his appearance, lost no time and almost at once Dobromil was on his horse and flying over hill and dale so fast that the horse’s hoofs scarcely touched the earth.When he reached the forest he did not know where to look for the cave. He rode straight into the wood until a white doe crossed his path. Then the horse in fright plunged to one side and pushed through bushes and undergrowth to the base of a big rock. Dobromil dismounted and tied the horse to a tree.He climbed the rock and there he saw something white gleaming among the trees. He crept forward cautiously and suddenly found himself in front of a cave. Imagine then his joy, when he enters and finds his own dear wife Dobrunka.As he kisses her and looks into her sweet gentle face he says: “Where were my eyes that I was deceived for an instant by your wicked sister?”“What have you heard about my sister?” asked Dobrunka, who as yet knew nothing of the magic spinning wheel.So the king told her all that had happened and she in turn told him what had befallen her.“And from the time the hermit disappeared,” she said in conclusion, “the little boy has brought me food every day.”They sat down on the grass and together they ate some fruit from the wooden plate. When they rose to go they took the wooden plate and the cup away with them as keepsakes.Dobromil seated his wife in front of him on the horse and sped homewards with her. All his people were at the palace gate waiting to tell him what had happened in his absence.It seems that the devil himself had come and before their very eyes had carried off his wife and mother-in-law. They looked at each other in amazement as Dobromil rode up with what seemed to be the same wife whom the devil had so recently carried off.Dobromil explained to them what had happened and with one voice they called down punishment on the head of the wicked sister.The golden spinning wheel had vanished. So Dobrunka hunted out her old one and set to work at once to spin for her husband’s shirts. No one in the kingdom had such fine shirts as Dobromil and no one was happier.
In 1647 the New Haven colonists, who even at that early day exhibited the enterprise that has been a distinguishing feature of the Yankee, sent a ship to Ireland to try to develop a commerce, their trading posts on the Delaware having been broken up by the Swedes. When their agent, Captain Lamberton, sailed—in January—the harbor was so beset with ice that a track had to be cut through the floes to open water, five miles distant. She had, moreover, to be dragged out stern foremost—an ill omen, the sailors thought—and as she swung before the wind a passing drift of fog concealed her, for a moment, from the gaze of those on shore, who, from this, foretold things of evil. Though large and new, the ship was so “walty”—inclined to roll—that the captain set off with misgiving, and as she moved away the crew heard this solemn and disheartening invocation from a clergyman on the wharf:—”Lord, if it be thy pleasure to bury these, our friends, in the bottom of the sea, take them; they are thine: save them.”Winter passed; so did spring; still the ship came not; but one afternoon in June, just as a rain had passed, some children cried, “There’s a brave ship!” for, flying up the harbor, with all sail set and flaunting colors, was a vessel “the very mould of our ship,” the clergyman said.Strange to tell, she was going flat against the wind; no sailors were on her deck; she did not toss with the fling of the waves; there was no ripple at her bow. As she came close to land a single figure appeared on the quarter, pointing seaward with a cutlass; then suddenly her main-top fell, her masts toppled from their holdings, the dismantled hulk careened and went down. A cloud dropped from heaven and brooded for a time above the place where it had vanished, and when it lifted the surface of the sea was empty and still. The good folk of New Haven believed that the fate of the absent ship had been revealed, at last, for she never came back and Captain Lamberton was never heard from.
Over all the vast under-world the mountain Gnome Rubezahl was lord; and busy enough the care of his dominions kept him. There were the endless treasure chambers to be gone through, and the hosts of gnomes to be kept to their tasks. Some built strong barriers to hold back the fiery vapours to change dull stones to precious metal, or were hard at work filling every cranny of the rocks with diamonds and rubies; for Rubezahl loved all pretty things. Sometimes the fancy would take him to leave those gloomy regions, and come out upon the green earth for a while, and bask in the sunshine and hear the birds sing. And as gnomes live many hundreds of years he saw strange things. For, the first time he came up, the great hills were covered with thick forests, in which wild animals roamed, and Rubezahl watched the fierce fights between bear and bison, or chased the grey wolves, or amused himself by rolling great rocks down into the desolate valleys, to hear the thunder of their fall echoing among the hills. But the next time he ventured above ground, what was his surprise to find everything changed! The dark woods were hewn down, and in their place appeared blossoming orchards surrounding cosy-looking thatched cottages; for every chimney the blue smoke curled peacefully into the air, sheep and oxen fed in the flowery meadows, while from the shade of the hedges came the music of the shepherd’s pipe. The strangeness and pleasantness of the sight so delighted the gnome that he never thought of resenting the intrusion of these unexpected guests, who, without saying ‘by your leave’ or ‘with your leave,’ had made themselves so very much at home upon is hills; nor did he wish to interfere with their doings, but left them in quiet possession of their homes, as a good householder leaves in peace the swallows who have built their nests under his eaves.He was indeed greatly minded to make friends with this being called ‘man,’ so, taking the form of an old field labourer, he entered the service of a farmer. Under his care all the crops flourished exceedingly, but the master proved to be wasteful and ungrateful, and Rubezahl soon left him, and went to be shepherd to his next neighbour. He tended the flock so diligently, and knew so well where to lead the sheep to the sweetest pastures, and where among the hills to look for any who strayed away, that they too prospered under his care, and not one was lost or torn by wolves; but this new master was a hard man, and begrudged him his well-earned wages.So he ran away and went to serve the judge. Here he upheld the law with might and main, and was a terror to thieves and evildoers; but the judge was a bad man, who took bribes, and despised the law. Rubezahl would not be the tool of an unjust man, and so he told his master, who thereupon ordered him to be thrown in prison. Of course that did not trouble the gnome at all, he simply got out through the keyhole, and went away down to his underground palace, very much disappointed by his first experience of mankind. But, as time went on, he forgot the disagreeable things that had happened to him, and thought he would take another look at the upper world.“Rubezahl and the princess.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Brown Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1910), Longmans, Green and Co.So he stole into the valley, keeping himself carefully hidden in copse or hedgerow, and very soon met with an adventure; for, peeping through a screen of leaves, he saw before him a green lawn where stood a charming maiden, fresh as the spring, and beautiful to look upon. Around her upon the grass lay her young companions, as if they had thrown themselves down to rest after some merry game. Beyond them flowed a little brook, into which a waterfall leapt from a high rock, filling the air with its pleasant sound, and making a coolness even in the sultry noontide. The sight of the maiden so pleased the gnome that, for the first time, he wished himself a mortal; and, longing for a better view of the gay company, he changed himself into a raven and perched upon an oaktree which overhung the brook. But he soon found that this was not at all a good plan. He could only see with a raven’s eyes, and feel as a raven feels; and a nest of field-mice at the foot of the tree interested him far more than the sport of the maidens. When he understood this he flew down again in a great hurry into the thicket, and took the form of a handsome young man–that was the best way–and he fell in love with the girl then and there. The fair maiden was the daughter of the king of the country, and she often wandered in the forest with her play fellows gathering the wild flowers and fruits, till the midday heat drove the merry band to the shady lawn by the brook to rest, or to bathe in the cool waters. On this particular morning the fancy took them to wander off again into the wood. This was Master Rubezahl’s opportunity. Stepping out of his hiding-place he stood in the midst of the little lawn, weaving his magic spells, till slowly all about him changed, and when the maidens returned at noon to their favourite resting- place they stood lost in amazement, and almost fancied that they must be dreaming. The red rocks had become white marble and alabaster; the stream that murmured and struggled before in its rocky bed, flowed in silence now in its smooth channel, from which a clear fountain leapt, to fall again in showers of diamond drops, now on this side now on that, as the wandering breeze scattered it.Daisies and forget-me-nots fringed its brink, while tall hedges of roses and jasmine ringed it round, making the sweetest and daintiest bower imaginable. To the right and left of the waterfall opened out a wonderful grotto, its walls and arches glittering with many-coloured rock-crystals, while in every niche were spread out strange fruits and sweetmeats, the very sight of which made the princess long to taste them. She hesitated a while, however, scarcely able to believe her eyes, and not knowing if she should enter the enchanted spot or fly from it. But at length curiosity prevailed, and she and her companions explored to their heart’s content, and tasted and examined everything, running hither and thither in high glee, and calling merrily to each other.At last, when they were quite weary, the princess cried out suddenly that nothing would content her but to bathe in the marble pool, which certainly did look very inviting; and they all went gaily to this new amusement. The princess was ready first, but scarcely had she slipped over the rim of the pool when down– down–down she sank, and vanished in its depths before her frightened playmates could seize her by so much as a lock of her floating golden hair!Loudly did they weep and wail, running about the brink of the pool, which looked so shallow and so clear, but which had swallowed up their princess before their eyes. They even sprang into the water and tried to dive after her, but in vain; they only floated like corks in the enchanted pool, and could not keep under water for a second.They saw at last that there was nothing for it but to carry to the king the sad tidings of his beloved daughter’s disappearance. And what great weeping and lamentation there was in the palace when the dreadful news was told! The king tore his robes, dashed his golden crown from his head, and hid his face in his purple mantle for grief and anguish at the loss of the princess. After the first outburst of wailing, however, he took heart and hurried off to see for himself the scene of this strange adventure, thinking, as people will in sorrow, that there might be some mistake after all. But when he reached the spot, behold, all was changed again! The glittering grotto described to him by the maidens had completely vanished, and so had the marble bath, the bower of jasmine; instead, all was a tangle of flowers, as it had been of old. The king was so much perplexed that he threatened the princess’s playfellows with all sorts of punishments if they would not confess something about her disappearance; but as they only repeated the same story he presently put down the whole affair to the work of some sprite or goblin, and tried to console himself for his loss by ordering a grand hunt; for kings cannot bear to be troubled about anything long.Meanwhile the princess was not at all unhappy in the palace of her elfish lover.When the water-nymphs, who were hiding in readiness, had caught her and dragged her out of the sight of her terrified maidens, she herself had not had time to be frightened. They swam with her quickly by strange underground ways to a palace so splendid that her father’s seemed but a poor cottage in comparison with it, and when she recovered from her astonishment she found herself seated upon a couch, wrapped in a wonderful robe of satin fastened with a silken girdle, while beside her knelt a young man who whispered the sweetest speeches imaginable in her ear. The gnome, for he it was, told her all about himself and his great underground kingdom, and presently led her through the many rooms and halls of the palace, and showed her the rare and wonderful things displayed in them till she was fairly dazzled at the sight of so much splendour. On three sides of the castle lay a lovely garden with masses of gay, sweet flowers, and velvet lawns all cool and shady, which pleased the eye of the princess. The fruit trees were hung with golden and rosy apples, and nightingales sang in every bush, as the gnome and the princess wandered in the leafy alleys, sometimes gazing at the moon, sometimes pausing to gather the rarest flowers for her adornment. And all the time he was thinking to himself that never, during the hundreds of years he had lived, had he seen so charming a maiden. But the princess felt no such happiness; in spite of all the magic delights around her she was sad, though she tried to seem content for fear of displeasing the gnome. However, he soon perceived her melancholy, and in a thousand ways strove to dispel the cloud, but in vain. At last he said to himself: ‘Men are sociable creatures, like bees or ants. Doubtless this lovely mortal is pining for company. Who is there I can find for her to talk to?’Thereupon he hastened into the nearest filed and dug up a dozen or so of different roots–carrots, turnips, and radishes–and laying them carefully in an elegant basket brought them to the princess, who sat pensive in the shade of the rose-bower.‘Loveliest daughter of earth,’ said the gnome, ‘banish all sorrow; no more shall you be lonely in my dwelling. In this basket is all you need to make this spot delightful to you. Take this little many-coloured wand, and with a touch give to each root the form you desire to see.’With this he left her, and the princess, without an instant’s delay, opened the basket, and touching a turnip, cried eagerly: ‘Brunhilda, my dear Brunhilda! come to me quickly!’ And sure enough there was Brunhilda, joyfully hugging and kissing her beloved princess, and chattering as gaily as in the old days.This sudden appearance was so delightful that the princess could hardly believe her own eyes, and was quite beside herself with the joy of having her dear playfellow with her once more. Hand in hand they wandered about the enchanted garden, and gathered the golden apples from the trees, and when they were tired of this amusement the princess led her friend through all the wonderful rooms of the palace, until at last they came to the one in which were kept all the marvellous dresses and ornaments the gnome had given to his hoped-for bride. There they found so much to amuse them that the hours passed like minutes. Veils, girdles, and necklaces were tried on and admired, the imitation Brunhilda knew so well how to behave herself, and showed so much taste that nobody would ever have suspected that she was nothing but a turnip after all. The gnome, who had secretly been keeping an eye upon them, was very pleased with himself for having so well understood the heart of a woman; and the princess seemed to him even more charming than before. She did not forget to touch the rest of the roots with her magic wand, and soon had all her maidens about her, and even, as she had two tiny radishes to spare, her favourite cat, and her little dog whose name was Beni.And now all went cheerfully in the castle. The princess gave to each of the maidens her task, and never was mistress better served. For a whole week she enjoyed the delight of her pleasant company undisturbed. They all sang, they danced, they played from morning to night; only the princess noticed that day by day the fresh young faces of her maidens grew pale and wan, and the mirror in the great marble hall showed her that she alone still kept her rosy bloom, while Brunhilda and the rest faded visibly. They assured her that all was well with them; but, nevertheless, they continued to waste away, and day by day it became harder to them to take part in the games of the princess, till at last, one fine morning, when the princess started from bed and hastened out to join her gay playfellows, she shuddered and started back at the sight of a group of shrivelled crones, with bent backs and trembling limbs, who supported their tottering steps with staves and crutches, and coughed dismally. A little nearer to the hearth lay the once frolicsome Beni, with all four feet stretched stiffly out, while the sleek cat seemed too weak to raise his head from his velvet cushion.The horrified princess fled to the door to escape from the sight of this mournful company, and called loudly for the gnome, who appeared at once, humbly anxious to do her bidding.‘Malicious Sprite,’ she cried, ‘why do you begrudge me my playmates –the greatest delight of my lonely hours? Isn’t this solitary life in such a desert bad enough without your turning the castle into a hospital for the aged? Give my maidens back their youth and health this very minute, or I will never love you!’‘Sweetest and fairest of damsels,’ cried the gnome, ‘do not be angry; everything that is in my power I will do–but do not ask the impossible. So long as the sap was fresh in the roots the magic staff could keep them in the forms you desired, but as the sap dried up they withered away. But never trouble yourself about that, dearest one, a basket of fresh turnips will soon set matters right, and you can speedily call up again every form you wish to see. The great green patch in the garden will prove you with a more lively company.’So saying the gnome took himself off. And the princess with her magic wand touched the wrinkled old women, and left them the withered roots they really were, to be thrown upon the rubbish heap; and with light feet skipped off across to the meadow to take possession of the freshly filled basket. But to her surprise she could not find it anywhere. Up and down the garden she searched, spying into every corner, but not a sign of it was to be found. By the trellis of grape vines she met the gnome, who was so much embarrassed at the sight of her that she became aware of his confusion while he was still quite a long way off.‘You are trying to tease me,’ she cried, as soon as she saw him. ‘Where have you hidden the basket? I have been looking for it at least an hour.’‘Dear queen of my heart,’ answered he, ‘I pray you to forgive my carelessness. I promised more than I could perform. I have sought all over the land for the roots you desire; but they are gathered in, and lie drying in musty cellars, and the fields are bare and desolate, for below in the valley winter reigns, only here in your presence spring is held fast, and wherever your foot is set the gay flowers bloom. Have patience for a little, and then without fail you shall have your puppets to play with.’Almost before the gnome had finished, the disappointed princess turned away, and marched off to her own apartments, without deigning to answer him.The gnome, however, set off above ground as speedily as possible, and disguising himself as a farmer, bought an ass in the nearest market-town, and brought it back loaded with sacks of turnip, carrot, and radish seed. With this he sowed a great field, and sent a vast army of his goblins to watch and tend it, and to bring up the fiery rivers from the heart of the earth near enough to warm and encourage the sprouting seeds. Thus fostered they grew and flourished marvellously, and promised a goodly crop.The princess wandered about the field day by day, no other plants or fruits in all her wonderful garden pleased her as much as these roots; but still her eyes were full of discontent. And, best of all, she loved to while away the hours in a shady fir- wood, seated upon the bank of a little stream, into which she would cast the flowers she had gathered and watch them float away.The gnome tried hard by every means in his power to please the princess and win her love, but little did he guess the real reason of his lack of success. He imagined that she was too young and inexperienced to care for him; but that was a mistake, for the truth was that another image already filled her heart. The young Prince Ratibor, whose lands joined her father’s, had won the heart of the princess; and the lovers had been looking forward to the coming of their wedding-day when the bride’s mysterious disappearance took place. The sad news drove Ratibor distracted, and as the days went on, and nothing could be heard of the princess, he forsook his castle and the society of men, and spent his days in the wild forests, roaming about and crying her name aloud to the trees and rocks. Meanwhile, the maiden, in her gorgeous prison, sighed in secret over her grief, not wishing to arouse the gnome’s suspicions. In her own mind she was wondering if by any means she might escape from her captivity, and at last she hit upon a plan.By this time spring once more reigned in the valley, and the gnome sent the fires back to their places in the deeps of the earth, for the roots which they had kept warm through all the cruel winter hand now come to their full size. Day by day the princess pulled up some of them, and made experiments with them, conjuring up now this longed-for person, and now that, just for the pleasure of seeing them as they appeared; but she really had another purpose in view.One day she changed a tiny turnip into a bee, and sent him off to bring her some news of her lover.‘Fly, dear little bee, towards the east,’ said she, ‘to my beloved Ratibor, and softly hum into his ear that I love him only, but that I am a captive in the gnome’s palace under the mountains. Do not forget a single word of my greeting, and bring me back a message from my beloved.’So the bee spread his shining wings and flew away to do as he was bidden; but before he was out of sight a greedy swallow made a snatch at him, and to the great grief of the princess her messenger was eaten up then and there.After that, by the power of the wonderful wand she summoned a cricket, and taught him this greeting:‘Hop, little cricket, to Ratibor, and chirp in his ear that I love him only, but that I am held captive by the gnome in his palace under the mountains.’So the cricket hopped off gaily, determined to do his best to deliver his message; but, alas! a long-legged stork who was prancing along the same road caught him in her cruel beak, and before he could say a word he had disappeared down her throat.These two unlucky ventures did not prevent the princess from trying once more.This time she changed the turnip into a magpie.‘Flutter from tree to tree, chattering bird,’ said she, ’till you come to Ratibor, my love. Tell him that I am a captive, and bid him come with horses and men, the third day from this, to the hill that rises from the Thorny Valley.’The magpie listened, hopped awhile from branch to branch, and then darted away, the princess watching him anxiously as far as she could see.Now Prince Ratibor was still spending his life in wandering about the woods, and not even the beauty of the spring could soothe his grief.One day, as he sat in the shade of an oak tree, dreaming of his lost princess, and sometimes crying her name aloud, he seemed to hear another voice reply to his, and, starting up, he gazed around him, but he could see no one, and he had just made up his mind that he must be mistaken, when the same voice called again, and, looking up sharply, he saw a magpie which hopped to and fro among the twigs. Then Ratibor heard with surprise that the bird was indeed calling him by name.‘Poor chatterpie,’ said he; ‘who taught you to say that name, which belongs to an unlucky mortal who wishes the earth would open and swallow up him and his memory for ever?’Thereupon he caught up a great stone, and would have hurled it at the magpie, if it had not at that moment uttered the name of the princess.This was so unexpected that the prince’s arm fell helplessly to his side at the sound, and he stood motionless.But the magpie in the tree, who, like all the rest of his family, was not happy unless he could be for ever chattering, began to repeat the message the princess had taught him; and as soon as he understood it, Prince Ratibor’s heart was filed with joy. All his gloom and misery vanished in a moment, and he anxiously questioned the welcome messenger as to the fate of the princess.But the magpie knew no more than the lesson he had learnt, so he soon fluttered away; while the prince hurried back to his castle to gather together a troop of horsemen, full of courage for whatever might befall.The princess meanwhile was craftily pursuing her plan of escape. She left off treating the gnome with coldness and indifference; indeed, there was a look in her eyes which encouraged him to hope that she might some day return his love, and the idea pleased him mightily. The next day, as soon as the sun rose, she made her appearance decked as a bride, in the wonderful robes and jewels which the fond gnome had prepared for her. Her golden hair was braided and crowned with myrtle blossoms, and her flowing veil sparkled with gems. In these magnificent garments she went to meet the gnome upon the great terrace.‘Loveliest of maidens,’ he stammered, bowing low before her, ‘let me gaze into your dear eyes, and read in them that you will no longer refuse my love, but will make me the happiest being the sun shines upon.’So saying he would have drawn aside her veil; but the princess only held it more closely about her.‘Your constancy has overcome me,’ she said; ‘I can no longer oppose your wishes. But believe my words, and suffer this veil still to hide my blushes and tears.’‘Why tears, beloved one?’ cried the gnome anxiously; ‘every tear of yours falls upon my heart like a drop of molten gold. Greatly as I desire your love, I do not ask a sacrifice.’‘Ah!’ cried the false princess, ‘why do you misunderstand my tears? My heart answers to your tenderness, and yet I am fearful. A wife cannot always charm, and though YOU will never alter, the beauty of mortals is as a flower that fades. How can I be sure that you will always be as loving and charming as you are now?’‘Ask some proof, sweetheart,’ said he. ‘Put my obedience and my patience to some test by which you can judge of my unalterable love.’‘Be it so,’ answered the crafty maiden. ‘Then give me just one proof of your goodness. Go! count the turnips in yonder meadow. My wedding feast must not lack guests. They shall provide me with bride-maidens too. But beware lest you deceive me, and do not miss a single one. That shall be the test of your truth towards me.’Unwilling as the gnome was to lose sight of his beautiful bride for a moment, he obeyed her commands without delay, and hurried off to begin his task. He skipped along among the turnips as nimble as a grasshopper, and had soon counted them all; but, to be quite certain that he had made no mistake, he thought he would just run over them again. This time, to his great annoyance, the number was different; so he reckoned them for the third time, but now the number was not the same as either of the previous ones! And this was hardly to be wondered at, as his mind was full of the princess’s pretty looks and words.As for the maiden, no sooner was her deluded lover fairly out of sight than she began to prepare for flight. She had a fine fresh turnip hidden close at hand, which she changed into a spirited horse, all saddled and bridled, and, springing upon its back, she galloped away over hill and dale till she reached the Thorny Valley, and flung herself into the arms of her beloved Prince Ratibor.Meanwhile the toiling gnome went through his task over and over again till his back ached and his head swam, and he could no longer put two and two together; but as he felt tolerably certain of the exact number of turnips in the field, big and little together, he hurried back eager to prove to his beloved one what a delightful and submissive husband he would be. He felt very well satisfied with himself as he crossed the mossy lawn to the place where he had left her; but, alas! she was no longer there.He searched every thicket and path, he looked behind every tree, and gazed into every pond, but without success; then he hastened into the palace and rushed from room to room, peering into every hole and corner and calling her by name; but only echo answered in the marble halls–there was neither voice nor footstep.Then he began to perceive that something was amiss, and, throwing off the mortal form that encumbered him, he flew out of the palace, and soared high into the air, and saw the fugitive princess in the far distance just as the swift horse carried her across the boundary of his dominions.Furiously did the enraged gnome fling two great clouds together, and hurl a thunderbolt after the flying maiden, splintering the rocky barriers which had stood a thousand years. But his fury was vain, the thunderclouds melted away into a soft mist, and the gnome, after flying about for a while in despair, bewailing to the four winds his unhappy fate, went sorrowfully back to the palace, and stole once more through every room, with many sighs and lamentations. He passed through the gardens which for him had lost their charm, and the sight of the princess’s footprints on the golden sand of the pathway renewed his grief. All was lonely, empty, sorrowful; and the forsaken gnome resolved that he would have no more dealings with such false creatures as he had found men to be.Thereupon he stamped three times upon the earth, and the magic palace, with all its treasures, vanished away into the nothingness out of which he had called it; and the gnome fled once more to the depths of his underground kingdom.While all this was happening, Prince Ratibor was hurrying away with his prize to a place of safety. With great pomp and triumph he restored the lovely princess to her father, and was then and there married to her, and took her back with him to his own castle.But long after she was dead, and her children too, the villagers would tell the tale of her imprisonment underground, as they sat carving wood in the winter nights.
Far, far away, in the midst of a pine forest, there lived a woman who had both a daughter and a stepdaughter. Ever since her own daughter was born the mother had given her all that she cried for, so she grew up to be as cross and disagreeable as she was ugly. Her stepsister, on the other hand, had spent her childhood in working hard to keep house for her father, who died soon after his second marriage; and she was as much beloved by the neighbours for her goodness and industry as she was for her beauty.As the years went on, the difference between the two girls grew more marked, and the old woman treated her stepdaughter worse than ever, and was always on the watch for some pretext for beating her, or depriving her of her food. Anything, however foolish, was good enough for this, and one day, when she could think of nothing better, she set both the girls to spin while sitting on the low wall of the well.‘And you had better mind what you do,’ said she, ‘for the one whose thread breaks first shall be thrown to the bottom.’But of course she took good care that her own daughter’s flax was fine and strong, while the stepsister had only some coarse stuff, which no one would have thought of using. As might be expected, in a very little while the poor girl’s thread snapped, and the old woman, who had been watching from behind a door, seized her stepdaughter by her shoulders, and threw her into the well.‘That is an end of you!’ she said. But she was wrong, for it was only the beginning.Down, down, down went the girl–it seemed as if the well must reach to the very middle of the earth; but at last her feet touched the ground, and she found herself in a field more beautiful than even the summer pastures of her native mountains. Trees waved in the soft breeze, and flowers of the brightest colours danced in the grass. And though she was quite alone, the girl’s heart danced too, for she felt happier than she had since her father died. So she walked on through the meadow till she came to an old tumbledown fence–so old that it was a wonder it managed to stand up at all, and it looked as if it depended for support on the old man’s beard that climbed all over it.The girl paused for a moment as she came up, and gazed about for a place where she might safely cross. But before she could move a voice cried from the fence:‘Do not hurt me, little maiden; I am so old, so old, I have not much longer to live.’And the maiden answered:‘No, I will not hurt you; fear nothing.’ And then seeing a spot where the clematis grew less thickly than in other places, she jumped lightly over.‘May all go well with thee,’ said the fence, as the girl walked on.She soon left the meadow and turned into a path which ran between two flowery hedges. Right in front of her stood an oven, and through its open door she could see a pile of white loaves.‘Eat as many loaves as you like, but do me no harm, little maiden,’ cried the oven. And the maiden told her to fear nothing, for she never hurt anything, and was very grateful for the oven’s kindness in giving her such a beautiful white loaf. When she had finished it, down to the last crumb, she shut the oven door and said: ‘Good-morning.’‘May all go well with thee,’ said the oven, as the girl walked on.By-and-by she became very thirsty, and seeing a cow with a milk-pail hanging on her horn, turned towards her.‘Milk me and drink as much as you will, little maiden,’ cried the cow, ‘but be sure you spill none on the ground; and do me no harm, for I have never harmed anyone.’‘Nor I,’ answered the girl; ‘fear nothing.’ So she sat down and milked till the pail was nearly full. Then she drank it all up except a little drop at the bottom.‘Now throw any that is left over my hoofs, and hang the pail on my horns again,’ said the cow. And the girl did as she was bid, and kissed the cow on her forehead and went her way.Many hours had now passed since the girl had fallen down the well, and the sun was setting.‘Where shall I spend the night?’ thought she. And suddenly she saw before her a gate which she had not noticed before, and a very old woman leaning against it.‘Good evening,’ said the girl politely; and the old woman answered:‘Good evening, my child. Would that everyone was as polite as you. Are you in search of anything?’‘I am in search of a place,’ replied the girl; and the woman smiled and said:‘Then stop a little while and comb my hair, and you shall tell me all the things you can do.’‘Willingly, mother,’ answered the girl. And she began combing out the old woman’s hair, which was long and white.Half an hour passed in this way, and then the old woman said:‘As you did not think yourself too good to comb me, I will show you where you may take service. Be prudent and patient and all will go well.’So the girl thanked her, and set out for a farm at a little distance, where she was engaged to milk the cows and sift the corn.As soon as it was light next morning the girl got up and went into the cow-house. ‘I’m sure you must be hungry,’ said she, patting each in turn. And then she fetched hay from the barn, and while they were eating it, she swept out the cow-house, and strewed clean straw upon the floor. The cows were so pleased with the care she took of them that they stood quite still while she milked them, and did not play any of the tricks on her that they had played on other dairymaids who were rough and rude. And when she had done, and was going to get up from her stool, she found sitting round her a whole circle of cats, black and white, tabby and tortoise- shell, who all cried with one voice:‘We are very thirsty, please give us some milk!’‘My poor little pussies,’ said she, ‘of course you shall have some.’ And she went into the dairy, followed by all the cats, and gave each one a little red saucerful. But before they drank they all rubbed themselves against her knees and purred by way of thanks.The next thing the girl had to do was to go to the storehouse, and to sift the corn through a sieve. While she was busy rubbing the corn she heard a whirr of wings, and a flock of sparrows flew in at the window.‘We are hungry; give us some corn! give us some corn!’ cried they; and the girl answered:‘You poor little birds, of course you shall have some!’ and scattered a fine handful over the floor. When they had finished they flew on her shoulders and flapped their wings by way of thanks.Time went by, and no cows in the whole country-side were so fat and well tended as hers, and no dairy had so much milk to show. The farmer’s wife was so well satisfied that she gave her higher wages, and treated her like her own daughter. At length, one day, the girl was bidden by her mistress to come into the kitchen, and when there, the old woman said to her: ‘I know you can tend cows and keep a diary; now let me see what you can do besides. Take this sieve to the well, and fill it with water, and bring it home to me without spilling one drop by the way.’The girl’s heart sank at this order; for how was it possible for her to do her mistress’s bidding? However, she was silent, and taking the sieve went down to the well with it. Stopping over the side, she filled it to the brim, but as soon as she lifted it the water all ran out of the holes. Again and again she tried, but not a drop would remaining in the sieve, and she was just turning away in despair when a flock of sparrows flew down from the sky.‘Ashes! ashes!’ they twittered; and the girl looked at them and said:‘Well, I can’t be in a worse plight than I am already, so I will take your advice.’ And she ran back to the kitchen and filled her sieve with ashes. Then once more she dipped the sieve into the well, and, behold, this time not a drop of water disappeared!‘Here is the sieve, mistress,’ cried the girl, going to the room where the old woman was sitting.‘You are cleverer than I expected,’ answered she; ‘or else someone helped you who is skilled in magic.’ But the girl kept silence, and the old woman asked her no more questions.Many days passed during which the girl went about her work as usual, but at length one day the old woman called her and said:‘I have something more for you to do. There are here two yarns, the one white, the other black. What you must do is to wash them in the river till the black one becomes white and the white black.’ And the girl took them to the river and washed hard for several hours, but wash as she would they never changed one whit.‘This is worse than the sieve,’ thought she, and was about to give up in despair when there came a rush of wings through the air, and on every twig of the birch trees which grew by the bank was perched a sparrow.‘The black to the east, the white to the west!’ they sang, all at once; and the girl dried her tears and felt brave again. Picking up the black yarn, she stood facing the east and dipped it in the river, and in an instant it grew white as snow, then turning to the west, she held the white yarn in the water, and it became as black as a crow’s wing. She looked back at the sparrows and smiled and nodded to them, and flapping their wings in reply they flew swiftly away.At the sight of the yarn the old woman was struck dumb; but when at length she found her voice she asked the girl what magician had helped her to do what no one had done before. But she got no answer, for the maiden was afraid of bringing trouble on her little friends.For many weeks the mistress shut herself up in her room, and the girl went about her work as usual. She hoped that there was an end to the difficult tasks which had been set her; but in this she was mistaken, for one day the old woman appeared suddenly in the kitchen, and said to her:‘There is one more trial to which I must put you, and if you do not fail in that you will be left in peace for evermore. Here are the yarns which you washed. Take them and weave them into a web that is as smooth as a king’s robe, and see that it is spun by the time that the sun sets.’‘This is the easiest thing I have been set to do,’ thought the girl, who was a good spinner. But when she began she found that the skein tangled and broke every moment.‘Oh, I can never do it!’ she cried at last, and leaned her head against the loom and wept; but at that instant the door opened, and there entered, one behind another, a procession of cats.‘What is the matter, fair maiden?’ asked they. And the girl answered:‘My mistress has given me this yarn to weave into a piece of cloth, which must be finished by sunset, and I have not even begun yet, for the yarn breaks whenever I touch it.’‘If that is all, dry your eyes,’ said the cats; ‘we will manage it for you.’ And they jumped on the loom, and wove so fast and so skilfully that in a very short time the cloth was ready and was as fine as any king ever wore. The girl was so delighted at the sight of it that she gave each cat a kiss on his forehead as they left the room behind one the other as they had come.‘Who has taught you this wisdom?’ asked the old woman, after she had passed her hands twice or thrice over the cloth and could find no roughness anywhere. But the girl only smiled and did not answer. She had learned early the value of silence.After a few weeks the old woman sent for her maid and told her that as her year of service was now up, she was free to return home, but that, for her part, the girl had served her so well that she hoped she might stay with her. But at these words the maid shook her head, and answered gently:‘I have been happy here, Madam, and I thank you for your goodness to me; but I have left behind me a stepsister and a stepmother, and I am fain to be with them once more.’ The old woman looked at her for a moment, and then she said:‘Well, that must be as you like; but as you have worked faithfully for me I will give you a reward. Go now into the loft above the store house and there you will find many caskets. Choose the one which pleases you best, but be careful not to open it till you have set it in the place where you wish it to remain.’The girl left the room to go to the loft, and as soon as she got outside, she found all the cats waiting for her. Walking in procession, as was their custom, they followed her into the loft, which was filled with caskets big and little, plain and splendid. She lifted up one and looked at it, and then put it down to examine another yet more beautiful. Which should she choose, the yellow or the blue, the red or the green, the gold or the silver? She hesitated long, and went first to one and then to another, when she heard the cats’ voices calling: ‘Take the black! take the black!’The words make her look round–she had seen no black casket, but as the cats continued their cry she peered into several corners that had remained unnoticed, and at length discovered a little black box, so small and so black, that it might easily have been passed over.‘This is the casket that pleases me best, mistress,’ said the girl, carrying it into the house. And the old woman smiled and nodded, and bade her go her way. So the girl set forth, after bidding farewell to the cows and the cats and the sparrows, who all wept as they said good-bye.She walked on and on and on, till she reached the flowery meadow, and there, suddenly, something happened, she never knew what, but she was sitting on the wall of the well in her stepmother’s yard. Then she got up and entered the house.The woman and her daughter stared as if they had been turned into stone; but at length the stepmother gasped out:‘So you are alive after all! Well, luck was ever against me! And where have you been this year past?’ Then the girl told how she had taken service in the under-world, and, beside her wages, had brought home with her a little casket, which she would like to set up in her room.‘Give me the money, and take the ugly little box off to the outhouse,’ cried the woman, beside herself with rage, and the girl, quite frightened at her violence, hastened away, with her precious box clasped to her bosom.The outhouse was in a very dirty state, as no one had been near it since the girl had fallen down the well; but she scrubbed and swept till everything was clean again, and then she placed the little casket on a small shelf in the corner.‘Now I may open it,’ she said to herself; and unlocking it with the key which hung to its handle, she raised the lid, but started back as she did so, almost blinded by the light that burst upon her. No one would ever have guessed that that little black box could have held such a quantity of beautiful things! Rings, crowns, girdles, necklaces–all made of wonderful stones; and they shone with such brilliance that not only the stepmother and her daughter but all the people round came running to see if the house was on fire. Of course the woman felt quite ill with greed and envy, and she would have certainly taken all the jewels for herself had she not feared the wrath of the neighbours, who loved her stepdaughter as much as they hated her.But if she could not steal the casket and its contents for herself, at least she could get another like it, and perhaps a still richer one. So she bade her own daughter sit on the edge of the well, and threw her into the water, exactly as she had done to the other girl; and, exactly as before, the flowery meadow lay at the bottom.Every inch of the way she trod the path which her stepsister had trodden, and saw the things which she had seen; but there the likeness ended. When the fence prayed her to do it no harm, she laughed rudely, and tore up some of the stakes so that she might get over the more easily; when the oven offered her bread, she scattered the loaves onto the ground and stamped on them; and after she had milked the cow, and drunk as much as she wanted, she threw the rest on the grass, and kicked the pail to bits, and never heard them say, as they looked after her: ‘You shall not have done this to me for nothing!’Towards evening she reached the spot where the old woman was leaning against the gate- post, but she passed her by without a word.‘Have you no manners in your country?’ asked the crone.‘I can’t stop and talk; I am in a hurry,’ answered the girl. ‘It is getting late, and I have to find a place.’‘Stop and comb my hair for a little,’ said the old woman, ‘and I will help you to get a place.’‘Comb your hair, indeed! I have something better to do than that!’ And slamming the gate in the crone’s face she went her way. And she never heard the words that followed her: ‘You shall not have done this to me for nothing!’By-and-by the girl arrived at the farm, and she was engaged to look after the cows and sift the corn as her stepsister had been. But it was only when someone was watching her that she did her work; at other times the cow-house was dirty, and the cows ill-fed and beaten, so that they kicked over the pail, and tried to butt her; and everyone said they had never seen such thin cows or such poor milk. As for the cats, she chased them away, and ill-treated them, so that they had not even the spirit to chase the rats and mice, which nowadays ran about everywhere. And when the sparrows came to beg for some corn, they fared no better than the cows and the cats, for the girl threw her shoes at them, till they flew in a fright to the woods, and took shelter amongst the trees.Months passed in this manner, when, one day, the mistress called the girl to her.‘All that I have given you to do you have done ill,’ said she, ‘yet will I give you another chance. For though you cannot tend cows, or divide the grain from the chaff, there may be other things that you can do better. Therefore take this sieve to the well, and fill it with water, and see that you bring it back without spilling a drop.’The girl took the sieve and carried it to the well as her sister had done; but no little birds came to help her, and after dipping it in the well two or three times she brought it back empty.‘I thought as much,’ said the old woman angrily; ‘she that is useless in one thing is useless in another.’Perhaps the mistress may have thought that the girl had learnt a lesson, but, if she did, she was quite mistaken, as the work was no better done than before. By-and-by she sent for her again, and gave her maid the black and white yarn to wash in the river; but there was no one to tell her the secret by which the black would turn white, and the white black; so she brought them back as they were. This time the old woman only looked at her grimly but the girl was too well pleased with herself to care what anyone thought about her.After some weeks her third trial came, and the yarn was given her to spin, as it had been given to her stepsister before her.But no procession of cats entered the room to weave a web of fine cloth, and at sunset she only brought back to her mistress an armful of dirty, tangled wool.‘There seems nothing in the world you can do,’ said the old woman, and left her to herself.Soon after this the year was up, and the girl went to her mistress to tell her that she wished to go home.‘Little desire have I to keep you,’ answered the old woman, ‘for no one thing have you done as you ought. Still, I will give you some payment, therefore go up into the loft, and choose for yourself one of the caskets that lies there. But see that you do not open it till you place it where you wish it to stay.’This was what the girl had been hoping for, and so rejoiced was she, that, without even stopping to thank the old woman, she ran as fast as she could to the loft. There were the caskets, blue and red, green and yellow, silver and gold; and there in the corner stood a little black casket just like the one her stepsister had brought home.‘If there are so many jewels in that little black thing, this big red one will hold twice the number,’ she said to herself; and snatching it up she set off on her road home without even going to bid farewell to her mistress.‘See, mother, see what I have brought!’ cried she, as she entered the cottage holding the casket in both hands.‘Ah! you have got something very different from that little black box,’ answered the old woman with delight. But the girl was so busy finding a place for it to stand that she took little notice of her mother.‘It will look best here–no, here,’ she said, setting it first on one piece of furniture and then on another. ‘No, after all it is to fine to live in a kitchen, let us place it in the guest chamber.’So mother and daughter carried it proudly upstairs and put it on a shelf over the fireplace; then, untying the key from the handle, they opened the box. As before, a bright light leapt out directly the lid was raised, but it did not spring from the lustre of jewels, but from hot flames, which darted along the walls and burnt up the cottage and all that was in it and the mother and daughter as well.As they had done when the stepdaughter came home, the neighbours all hurried to see what was the matter; but they were too late. Only the hen-house was left standing; and, in spite of her riches, there the stepdaughter lived happily to the end of her days.
A Charger, feeling the infirmities of age, was sent to work in a mill instead of going out to battle. But when he was compelled to grind instead of serving in the wars, he bewailed his change of fortune and called to mind his former state, saying, “Ah! Miller, I had indeed to go campaigning before, but I was barbed from counter to tail, and a man went along to groom me; and now I cannot understand what ailed me to prefer the mill before the battle.” “Forbear,” said the Miller to him, “harping on what was of yore, for it is the common lot of mortals to sustain the ups and downs of fortune.”
There was once a king who had four children: three daughters and a son, who was the heir to the throne. One day the king said to the prince: “My son, I have decided to marry your three sisters to the first persons who pass our palace at noon.” At that time there first passed a swine-herd, then a huntsman, and finally a grave-digger. The king had them all three summoned to his presence, and told the swine-herd that he wished to give him his oldest daughter for a wife, the second to the huntsman, and the third to the grave-digger. Those poor creatures thought they were dreaming. But they saw that the king spoke seriously, or rather commanded. Then, all confused, but well pleased, they said: “Let your Majesty’s will be done.” The prince, who loved his youngest sister dearly, was deeply grieved that she should become a grave-digger’s wife. He begged the king not to make this match, but the king would not listen to him.The prince, grieved at his father’s caprice, would not be present at his sisters’ wedding, but took a walk in the garden at the foot of the palace. Now, while the priest in the marriage hall was blessing the three brides, the garden suddenly bloomed with the fairest flowers, and there came forth from a white cloud a voice which said: “Happy he who shall have a kiss from the lips of the fair Fiorita!” The prince trembled so that he could hardly stand; and afterward, leaning against an olive-tree, he began to weep for the sisters he had lost, and remained buried in thought many hours. Then he started, as if awakening from a dream, and said to himself: “I must flee from my father’s house. I will wander about the world, and will not rest until I have a kiss from the lips of the fair Fiorita.”He travelled over land and sea, over mountains and plains, and found no living soul that could give him word of the fair Fiorita. Three years had elapsed, when one day, leaving a wood and journeying through a beautiful plain, he arrived at a palace before which was a fountain, and drew near to drink. A child two years old, who was playing by the fountain, seeing him approach, began to cry and call its mother. The mother, when she saw the prince, ran to meet him, embraced him, and kissed him, crying: “Welcome, welcome, my brother!” The prince at first did not recognize her; but looking at her closely in the face, he saw that it was his oldest sister, and embracing her in turn, exclaimed: “How glad I am to see you, my sister!” and they rejoiced greatly. The sister invited him to enter the palace, which was hers, and led him to her husband, who was much pleased to see him, and all three overwhelmed with caresses the child who, by calling his mother, had been the cause of all that joy.The prince then asked about his other two sisters, and his brother-in-law replied that they were well, and lived in a lordly way with their husbands. The prince was surprised, and his brother-in-law added that the fortunes of the three husbands of his sisters had changed since they had been enchanted by a magician. “And cannot I see my other two sisters?” asked the prince. The brother-in-law replied: “Direct your journey towards sunrise. After a day you will find your second sister; after two days, the third.” “But I must seek the way to the fair Fiorita, and I do not know whether it is towards sunrise or sunset.” “It is precisely towards sunrise; and you are doubly fortunate: first, because you will see your two sisters again; secondly, because from the last you can receive information about the fair Fiorita. But before departing I wish to give you a remembrance. Take these hog’s bristles. The first time you encounter any danger from which you cannot extricate yourself, throw them on the ground, and I will free you from the danger.” The prince took the bristles, and after he had thanked his brother-in-law, resumed his journey.The next day he arrived at the palace of his second sister; was received there also with great joy, and this brother-in-law, too, wished to give him a memento before he departed; and because he had been a huntsman, presented him with a bunch of birds’ feathers, telling him the same thing that the other brother-in-law had. He thanked him and departed. The third day he came to his youngest sister’s, who, seeing the brother who had always loved her more dearly than his other sisters, welcomed him more warmly, as did also her husband. The latter gave him a little human bone, giving him the same advice as the other brothers-in-law had. His sister then told him that the fair Fiorita lived a day’s journey from there, and that he could learn more about her from an old woman who was indebted to her, and to whom she sent him.As soon as the prince arrived at the fair Fiorita’s country (she was the king’s daughter), he went to the old woman. When she heard that he was the brother of the one who had been so kind to her, she received him like a son. Fortunately, the old woman’s house was exactly opposite that side of the king’s palace where there was a window to which the fair Fiorita came every day at dawn. Now one morning at that hour she appeared at the window, scarcely covered by a white veil. When the prince saw that flower of beauty, he was so agitated that he would have fallen had not the old woman supported him. The old woman attempted to dissuade him from the idea of marrying the fair Fiorita, saying that the king would give his daughter only to him who should discover a hidden place, and that he killed him who could not find it, and that already many princes had lost their lives for her. But, notwithstanding, he answered that he should die if he could not obtain possession of the fair Fiorita. Having learned afterward from the old woman that the king bought for his daughter the rarest musical instruments, hear what he devised! He went to a cymbal-maker and said: “I want a cymbal that will play three tunes, and each tune to last a day, and to be made in such a way that a man can be hidden inside of it; and I will pay you a thousand ducats for it. When it is finished I will get in it; and you must go and play it in front of the king’s palace; and if the king wishes to buy it you will sell it to him on condition that you shall take it every three days to fix it.” The cymbal-maker consented, and did all that the prince commanded him. The king purchased the cymbal with the maker’s condition, had it carried to his daughter’s bed-chamber, and said to her: “See, my daughter, I do not wish you to lack any diversion, even when you are in bed and cannot sleep.”Next to the fair Fiorita’s chamber slept her maids of honor. In the night when all were asleep, the prince, who was hidden in the cymbal, came out and called: “Fair Fiorita! fair Fiorita!” She awoke in a fright and cried: “Come, my maids of honor, I hear some one calling me.” The maids of honor came quickly, but found no one, for the prince hid himself suddenly in the instrument. The same thing happened twice, and the maids coming and finding no one, the fair Fiorita said: “Well, it must be my fancy. If I call you again, do not come, I command you.” The prince, within the cymbal, heard this. Scarcely had the maids of honor fallen asleep again, when the prince approached the fair one’s bed and said: “Fair Fiorita, give me, I beg you, a kiss from your lips; if you do not, I shall die.” She, all trembling, called her maids; but obeying her command, they did not come. Then she said to the prince: “You are fortunate and have won. Draw near.” And she gave him the kiss, and on the prince’s lips there remained a beautiful rose. “Take this rose,” she said, “and keep it on your heart, for it will bring you good luck.” The prince placed it on his heart, and then told his fair one all his history from the time he had left his father’s palace until he had introduced himself into her chamber by the trick with the cymbal. The fair Fiorita was well pleased, and said that she would willingly marry him; but to succeed, he must perform many difficult tasks which the king would lay upon him. First he must discover the way to a hiding-place where the king had concealed her with a hundred damsels; then he must recognize her among the hundred damsels, all dressed alike and veiled. “But,” she said, “you need not trouble yourself about these difficulties, for the rose you have taken from my lips, and which you will always wear over your heart, will draw you like the loadstone, first to the hiding-place, and afterward to my arms. But the king will set you other tasks, and perhaps terrible ones. These you must think of yourself. Let us leave it to God and fortune.”The prince went at once to the king, and asked for the fair Fiorita’s hand. The king did not refuse it, but made the same conditions, that the princess had told him of. He consented, and by the help of the rose quickly performed the first tasks. “Bravo!” exclaimed the king, when the prince recognized the fair Fiorita among the other damsels; “but this is not enough.” Then he shut him up in a large room all full of fruit, and commanded him, under pain of death, to eat it all up in a day. The prince was in despair, but fortunately he remembered the hog’s bristles and the advice which his first brother-in-law had given him. He threw the bristles on the ground, and there suddenly came forth a great herd of swine which ate up all the fruit and then disappeared. This task was accomplished. But the king proposed another. He wished the prince to retire with his bride, and cause her to fall asleep at the singing of the birds which are the sweetest to hear and the most beautiful to see. The prince remembered the bunch of feathers given him by his brother-in-law the huntsman, and threw them on the ground. Suddenly there appeared the most beautiful birds in the world, and sang so sweetly that the king himself fell asleep. But a servant awakened him at once, because he had commanded it, and he said to the prince and his daughter: “Now you can enjoy your love at liberty. But to-morrow, on arising, you must present me with a child two years old, who can speak and call you by name. If not, you will both be killed.” “Now let us retire, my dear wife,” said the prince to the fair Fiorita. “Between now and to-morrow some saint will aid us.” The next morning the prince remembered the bone which his brother-in-law the grave-digger had given him. He rose and threw it to the ground, and lo! a beautiful child, with a golden apple in his right hand, who cried papa and mamma. The king entered the room, and the child ran to meet him, and wished to put the golden apple on the crown which the king wore. The king then kissed the child, blessed the pair, and taking the crown from his head, put it on his son-in-law’s, saying: “This is now yours.” Then they gave a great feast at the court for the wedding, and they invited the prince’s three sisters, with their husbands. And the prince’s father, receiving such good news of the son whom he believed lost, hastened to embrace him, and gave him his crown too. So the prince and the fair Fiorita became king and queen of two realms, and from that time on were always happy.
Once upon a time there was a prince who studied and racked his brains so much that he learned magic and the art of finding hidden treasures. One day he discovered a treasure in a bank, let us say the bank of Ddisisa: “Oh, he says, now I am going to get it out.” But to get it out it was necessary that ten million million ants should cross one by one the river Gianquadara (let us suppose it was that one) in a bark made of the half shell of a nut. The prince puts the bark in the river and begins to make the ants pass over. One, two, three,——and he is still doing it.Here the person who is telling the story pauses and says: “We will finish this story when the ants have finished passing over.
Okun Archibong was one of King Archibong’s slaves, and lived on a farm near Calabar. He was a hunter, and used to kill bush buck and other kinds of antelopes and many monkeys. The skins he used to dry in the sun, and when they were properly cured, he used to sell them in the market; the monkey skins were used for making drums, and the antelope skins were used for sitting mats. The flesh, after it had been well smoked over a wood fire, he also sold, but he did not make much money.Okun Archibong married a slave woman of Duke’s house named Nkoyo. He paid a small dowry to the Dukes, took his wife home to his farm, and in the dry season time she had a son. About four months after the birth of the child Nkoyo took him to the farm while her husband was absent hunting. She placed the little boy under a shady tree and went about her work, which was clearing the ground for the yams which would be planted about two months before the rains. Every day while the mother was working a big ape used to come from the forest and play with the little boy; he used to hold him in his arms and carry him up a tree, and when Nkoyo had finished her work, he used to bring the baby back to her. There was a hunter named Edem Effiong who had for a long time been in love with Nkoyo, and had made advances to her, but she would have nothing to do with him, as she was very fond of her husband. When she had her little child Effiong Edem was very jealous, and meeting her one day on the farm without her baby, he said: “Where is your baby?”And she replied that a big ape had taken it up a tree and was looking after it for her. When Effiong Edem saw that the ape was a big one, he made up his mind to tell Nkoyo’s husband. The very next day he told Okun Archibong that he had seen his wife in the forest with a big ape. At first Okun would not believe this, but the hunter told him to come with him and he could see it with his own eyes. Okun Archibong therefore made up his mind to kill the ape. The next day he went with the other hunter to the farm and saw the ape up a tree playing with his son, so he took very careful aim and shot the ape, but it was not quite killed. It was so angry, and its strength was so great, that it tore the child limb from limb and threw it to the ground. This so enraged Okun Archibong that seeing his wife standing near he shot her also. He then ran home and told King Archibong what had taken place. This king was very brave and fond of fighting, so as he knew that King Duke would be certain to make war upon him, he immediately called in all his fighting men. When he was quite prepared he sent a messenger to tell King Duke what had happened. Duke was very angry, and sent the messenger back to King Archibong to say that he must send the hunter to him, so that he could kill him in any way he pleased. This Archibong refused to do, and said he would rather fight. Duke then got his men together, and both sides met and fought in the market square. Thirty men were killed of Duke’s men, and twenty were killed on Archibong’s side; there were also many wounded. On the whole King Archibong had the best of the fighting, and drove King Duke back. When the fighting was at its hottest the other chiefs sent out all the Egbo men with drums and stopped the fight, and the next day the palaver was tried in Egbo house. King Archibong was found guilty, and was ordered to pay six thousand rods to King Duke. He refused to pay this amount to Duke, and said he would rather go on fighting, but he did not mind paying the six thousand rods to the town, as the Egbos had decided the case. They were about to commence fighting again when the whole country rose up and said they would not have any more fighting, as Archibong said to Duke that the woman’s death was not really the fault of his slave Okun Archibong, but of Effiong Edem, who made the false report. When Duke heard this he agreed to leave the whole matter to the chiefs to decide, and Effiong Edem was called to take his place on the stone. He was tried and found guilty, and two Egbos came out armed with cutting whips and gave him two hundred lashes on his bare back, and then cut off his head and sent it to Duke, who placed it before his Ju Ju. From that time to the present all apes and monkeys have been frightened of human beings; and even of little children. The Egbos also passed a law that a chief should not allow one of his men slaves to marry a woman slave of another house, as it would probably lead to fighting.
Once there was an old coyote with five ugly, snarling baby coyotes. They lived near a deer, who had two pretty spotted baby deer, called fawns. One day Mrs. Coyote said to Mrs. Deer: “How pretty your fawns are, Mrs. Deer. How did you make the spots on them? I should like to make my babies spotted too.”“Oh, I smoked them with corn cobs. I made a fire of cobs in my house and as soon as the house was full of smoke, I shut my babies up tight in there and let them stay all night. Next day they were spotted, as you see.”So Mrs. Coyote found a lot of corn cobs and built a fire with them in her den. When it was full of smoke, she pushed the five little coyotes in and shut the door tight.Mrs. Deer took her fawns and set out in a hurry for the deer’s house on a high mountain near Flagstaff; for she knew what would happen to the little coyotes and how angry the old coyote would be. She also knew that Mrs. Coyote had been waiting for an excuse to eat her and her babies up.On their way the deer had to cross a river. When they reached the river, the old turtle-man, who always ferried people across, took them safely over on his back. “Turtle-man, very soon a coyote will follow us and ask you to take her across the river. Please keep her here as long as you can, so we may reach the deer’s house before she catches us and eats us up.”The next morning when the deer had almost reached the deer’s house, old Mrs. Coyote was back at her den opening the door to call her babies out. When the door opened, the smoke blew in her face so thick that it almost blinded her. “Come out, my beautiful spotted babies! We will eat up those spotted fawns some day and then you will be the only pretty children here.”But the little coyotes did not come. Mrs. Coyote went in to see why and she found them dead. The smoke had smothered them to death. She was so angry that she ran as fast as she could, following the deer’s tracks to catch them and eat them up. When she reached the river the old turtle-man was digging in the ground and singing a song.“Hurry, Old Turtle-man, and take me across the river; for I have no time to waste here!” yelled Mrs. Coyote. But the old turtle-man kept on digging until he had finished his song. Then he took the coyote on his back to carry her across, and when they reached the middle of the river, he pretended to cough and dropped Mrs. Coyote off his back right down into the water. When she climbed up again on Turtle-man’s back she had to sneeze the water out of her nose and lick her wet fur; so it took them a long time to get across the river.By that time the deer were all safe in the deer’s house with other deer; and the only door to the house, as you perhaps know, was a hole in the top.Mrs. Coyote ran to the deer’s house; climbed up on the roof and yelled down: ” Send that deer-woman with her spotted fawns up here!”“Come down and get them if you want them,” answered an old grandfather deer with long horns. And then he stood right under the door.Down leaped Mrs. Coyote and fell right on Granddaddy Deer’s sharp horns. His horns made a hole in her side. Granddaddy Deer threw her onto the horns of another deer; he threw her to another; and they tossed her until her body was all cut into pieces and she was dead.Author Note: Hopi, 2nd Mesa
It was in Copenhagen, in one of the houses on East Street, not far from King’s Newmarket, that someone was giving a large party. For one must give a party once in a while, if one expects to be invited in return. Half of the guests were already at the card tables, and the rest were waiting to see what would come of their hostess’s query:“What can we think up now?”Up to this point, their conversation had gotten along as best it might. Among other things, they had spoken of the Middle Ages. Some held that it was a time far better than our own. Indeed Councilor of Justice Knap defended this opinion with such spirit that his hostess sided with him at once, and both of them loudly took exception to Oersted’s article in the Almanac, which contrasted old times and new, and which favored our own period. The Councilor of Justice, however, held that the time of King Hans, about 1500 A.D., was the noblest and happiest age.While the conversation ran pro and con, interrupted only for a moment by the arrival of a newspaper, in which there was nothing worth reading, let us adjourn to the cloak room, where all the wraps, canes, umbrellas, and galoshes were collected together. Here sat two maids, a young one and an old one. You might have thought they had come in attendance upon some spinster or widow, and were waiting to see their mistress home. However, a closer inspection would reveal that these were no ordinary serving women. Their hands were too well kept for that, their bearing and movements too graceful, and their clothes had a certain daring cut.They were two fairies. The younger one, though not Dame Fortune herself, was an assistant to one of her ladies in waiting, and was used to deliver the more trifling gifts of Fortune. The older one looked quite grave. She was Dame Care, who always goes in her own sublime person to see to her errands herself, for then she knows that they are well done.They were telling each other about where they had been that day. The assistant of Fortune had only attended to a few minor affairs, she said, such as saving a new bonnet from the rain, getting a civil greeting for an honest man from an exalted nincompoop, and such like matters. But her remaining errand was an extraordinary one.“I must also tell you,” she said, “that today is my birthday, and in honor of this I have been entrusted to bring a pair of galoshes to mankind. These galoshes have this peculiarity, that whoever puts them on will immediately find himself in whatever time, place, and condition of life that he prefers. His every wish in regard to time and place will instantly be granted, so for once a man can find perfect happiness here below.”“Take my word for it.” said Dame Care, “he will be most unhappy, and will bless the moment when he can rid himself of those galoshes.”” How can you say such a thing?” the other woman exclaimed. “I shall leave them here beside the door, where someone will put them on by mistake and immediately be the happy one.”That ended their conversation.II. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COUNCILOR OF JUSTICEIt was getting late when Councilor Knap decided to go home. Lost in thought about the good old days of King Hans, as fate would have it, he put on the galoshes of Fortune instead of his own, and wore them out into East Street. But the power that lay in the galoshes took him back into the reign of King Hans, and as the streets were not paved in those days his feet sank deep into the mud and the mire.“Why, how deplorable!” the Councilor of Justice said. “The whole sidewalk is gone and all the street lights are out.”As the moon had no yet risen high enough, and the air was somewhat foggy, everything around him was dark and blurred. At the next corner a lantern hung before an image of the Madonna, but for all the light it afforded him it might as well not have been there. Only when he stood directly under it did he make out that painting of the mother and child.“It’s probably an art museum,” he thought, “and they have forgotten to take in the sign.”Two people in medieval costumes passed by.“How strange they looked!” he said. “They must have been to a masquerade.”Just then the sound of drums and fifes came his way, and bright torches flared. The Councilor of Justice stopped and was startled to see an odd procession go past, led by a whole band of drummers who were dexterously drubbing away. These were followed by soldiers armed with long bows and crossbows. The chief personage of the procession was a churchman of rank. The astounded Councilor asked what all this meant, and who the man might be.“That is the Bishop of Seeland,” he was told.“What in the name of heaven can have come over the Bishop?” the Councilor of Justice wondered. He sighed and shook his head. “The Bishop? Impossible.”Still pondering about it, without glancing to right or to left, he kept on down East Street and across Highbridge Square. The bridge that led from there to Palace Square was not to be found at all; at last on the bank of the shallow stream he saw a boat with two men in it.“Would the gentleman want to be ferried over to the Holm”? they asked him.“To the Holm?” blurted the Councilor, who had not the faintest notion that he was living in another age. “I want to go to Christian’s Harbour on Little Market Street.”The men gaped at him.“Kindly tell me where the bridge is,” he said. “It’s disgraceful that all the street lamps are out, and besides, it’s as muddy to walk here as in a swamp.” But the more he talked with the boatmen, the less they understood each other. “I can’t understand your jabbering Bornholm accent,” he finally said, and angrily turned his back on them. But no bridge could he find. Even the fence was gone.“What a scandalous state of affairs! What a way for things to look!” he said. Never had he been so disgruntled with his own age as he was this evening. “I think I’d better take a cab.” But where were the cabs? There were none in sight. “I’ll have to go back to King’s Newmarket, where there is a cab stand, or I shall never reach Christian’s Harbour.”So back he trudged to East Street, and had nearly walked the length of it when the moon rose.“Good Heavens, what have they been building here?” he cried as he beheld the East Gate, which in the old days stood at the end of East Street. In time, however, he found a gate through which he passed into what is now Newmarket. But all he saw there was a large meadow. A few bushes rose here and there and the meadow was divided by a wide canal or stream. The few wretched wooden huts on the far shore belonged to Dutch sailors, so at that time the place was called Dutch Meadow.“Either I’m seeing what is called Fata Morgana, or I’m drunk,” the Councilor of Justice moaned. “What sort of place is this? Where am I?” He turned back, convinced that he must be a very ill man. As he walked through the street again he paid more attention to the houses. Most of them were of wood, and many were thatched with straw.“No, I don’t feel myself at all,” he complained. “I only took one glass of punch, but it doesn’t agree with me. The idea of serving punch with hot salmon! I’ll speak about it severely to our hostess-that agent’s wife. Should I march straight back and tell her how I feel? No, that would be in bad taste, and besides I doubt whether her household is still awake.” He searched for the house, but wasn’t able to find it.“This is terrible!” he cried. “I don’t even recognize East Street. There’s not a shop to be seen; wretched old ramshackle huts are all I see, as if I were in Roskilde or Ringstedt. Oh, but I’m ill! There’s no point in standing on ceremony, but where on earth is the agent’s house? This hut doesn’t look remotely like it, but I can hear that the people inside are still awake. Ah, I’m indeed a very sick man.”He reached a half-open door, where light flickered through the crack. It was a tavern of that period-a sort of alehouse. The room had the look of a farmer’s clay-floored kitchen in Holstein, and the people who sat there were sailors, citizens of Copenhagen, and a couple of scholars. Deep in conversation over their mugs, they paid little attention to the newcomer.“Pardon me,” the Councilor of Justice said to the landlady who came toward him, “but I am far from well. Would you send someone for a cab to take me to Christian’s Harbour?”The woman stared at him, shook her head, and addressed him in German. As the Councilor of Justice supposed that she could not speak Danish, he repeated his remarks in German. This, and the cut of his clothes, convinced the woman that he was a foreigner. She soon understood that he felt unwell, and fetched him a mug of water, decidedly brackish, for she drew it directly from the sea-level well outside. The Councilor put his head in his hands, took a deep breath, and thought over all of the queer things that surrounded him.“Is that tonight’s number of The Day?” he remarked from force of habit, as he saw the woman putting away a large folded sheet.Without quite understanding him, she handed him the paper. It was a woodcut, representing a meteor seen in the skies over Cologne.“This is very old,” said the Councilor, who became quite enthusiastic about his discovery. “Where did you get this rare old print? It’s most interesting, although of course the whole matter is a myth. In this day and age, such meteors are explained away as a manifestation of the Northern Lights, probably caused by electricity.”Those who sat near him heard the remark and looked at him in astonishment. One of them rose, respectfully doffed his hat, and said with the utmost gravity:“Sir, you must be a great scholar.”“Not at all,” replied the Councilor. “I merely have a word or two to say about things that everyone should know.”“Modestia is an admirable virtue,” the man declared. “In regard to your statement, I must say, mihi secus videtur, though I shall be happy to suspend my judicium.”“May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?” the Councilor of Justice inquired.“I am a Bachelor of Theology,” the man told him in Latin.This answer satisfied the Councilor of Justice, for the degree was in harmony with the fellow’s way of dressing. “Obviously,” he thought, “this is some old village schoolmaster, an odd character such as one still comes across now and then, up in Jut land.”“This is scarcely a locus docendi,” the man continued, “but I entreat you to favor us with your conversation. You, of course, are well read in the classics?”“Oh, more or less,” the Councilor agreed. “I like to read the standard old books, and the new ones too, except for those ‘Every Day Stories’ of which we have enough in reality.”“Every Day Stories?” our bachelor asked.“Yes, I mean these modern novels.”“Oh,” the man said with a smile. “Still they are very clever, and are popular with the court. King Hans is particularly fond of the ‘Romance of Iwain and Jawain,’ which deals with King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. The king has been known to jest with his lords about it.”“Well,” said the Councilor, “one can’t keep up with all the new books. I suppose it has just been published by Heiberg.”“No,” the man said, “not by Heiberg, but by Gotfred von Ghemen.”“Indeed! What a fine old name for a literary man. Why Gotfred von Ghemen was the first printer in Denmark.”“Yes,” the man agreed, “he is our first and foremost printer.”Thus far, their conversation had flowed quite smoothly. Now one of the townsmen began to talk about the pestilence which had raged some years back, meaning the plague of 1484. The Councilor understood him to mean the last epidemic of cholera, so they agreed well enough.The freebooter’s War of 1490 was so recent that it could not be passed over. The English raiders had taken ships from our harbor, they said, and the Councilor of Justice, who was well posted on the affair of 1801, manfully helped them to abuse the English.After that, however, the talk floundered from one contradiction to another. The worthy bachelor was so completely unenlightened that the Councilor’s most commonplace remarks struck him as being too daring and too fantastic. They stared at each other, and when they reached an impasse the bachelor broke into Latin, in the hope that he would be better understood, but that didn’t help.The landlady plucked at the Councilor’s sleeve and asked him, “How do you feel now?” This forcibly recalled to him all of those things which he had happily forgotten in the heat of his conversation.“Merciful heaven, where am I?” he wondered, and the thought made him dizzy.“We will drink claret wine, and mead, and Bremen beer,” one of the guests cried out, “and you shall drink with us.”Two girls came in, and one of them wore a cap of two colors. They filled the glasses and made curtsies. The Councilor felt cold shivers up and down his spine. “What is all this? What is all this?” he groaned, but drink with them he must. They overwhelmed him with their kind intentions until he despaired, and when one man pronounced him drunk he didn’t doubt it in the least. All he asked was that they get him a droschke.” Then they thought he was speaking in Russian.Never before had he been in such low and vulgar company! “One would think that the country had lapsed back into barbarism,” he told himself. “This is the most dreadful moment of my life.”Then it occurred to him to slip down under the table, crawl to the door, and try to sneak out, but just as he neared the threshold his companions discovered him and tried to pull him out by his feet. However, by great good luck they pulled off his galoshes, and-with them-the whole enchantment.The Councilor of Justice now distinctly saw a street lamp burning in front of a large building. He knew the building and the other buildings near-by. It was East Street as we all know it today. He lay on the pavement with his legs against a gate, and across the way a night watchman sat fast asleep.“Merciful heavens! Have I been lying here in the street dreaming?” the Councilor of Justice said. “To be sure, this is East Street. How blessedly bright and how colorful it looks. But what dreadful effect that one glass of punch must have had on me.”Two minutes later he was seated in a cab, and well on his way to Christian’s Harbour. As he recalled all the past terror and distress to which he had been subjected, he wholeheartedly approved of the present, our own happy age. With all its shortcomings it was far preferable to that age into which he had recently stumbled. And that, thought the Councilor of Justice, was good common sense.III. THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE“Why, I declare! There’s a pair of galoshes,” said the watchman. They must belong to the lieutenant who lives up there on the top floor, for they are lying in front of the door.” A light still burned upstairs, and the honest fellow was perfectly willing to ring the bell and return the overshoes. But he didn’t want to disturb the other tenants in the house, so he didn’t do it.“It must be quite comfortable to wear a pair of such things,” he said. “How soft the leather feels.” They fitted his feet perfectly. “What a strange world we live in. The lieutenant might be resting easy in his soft bed, yet there he goes, pacing to and fro past his window. There’s a happy man for you! He has no wife, and he has no child, and every night he goes to a party. Oh, if I were only in his place, what a happy man I would be.”Just as he expressed his wish, the galoshes transformed him into the lieutenant, body and soul, and there he stood in the room upstairs. Between his fingers he held a sheet of pink paper on which the lieutenant had just written a poem. Who is there that has not at some time in his life felt poetic? If he writes down his thoughts while this mood is on him, poetry is apt to come of it. On the paper was written:IF ONLY I WERE RICHIf only I were rich; I often said in prayerWhen I was but a tiny lad without much careIf only I were rich, a soldier I would beWith uniform and sword, most handsomely;At last an officer I was, my wish I gotBut to be rich was not my lot;But You, oh Lord, would always help.I sat one eve, so happy, young and proud;A darling child of seven kissed my mouthFor I was rich with fairy tales, you seeWith money I was poor as poor can be,But she was fond of tales I toldThat made me rich, but – alas – not with gold;But You, oh Lord, You know!If only I were rich, is still my heavenly prayer.My little girl of seven is now a lady fair;She is so sweet, so clever and so good;My heart’s fair tale she never understood.If only, as of yore, she still for me would care,But I am poor and silent; I confess I do not dare.It is Your will, oh Lord!If only I were rich, in peace and comfort rest,I would my sorrow to this paper never trust.You, whom I love, if still you understandthen read this poem from my youth’s far land,Though best it be you never know my pain.I am still poor, my future dark and vain,But may, O Lord, You bless her!Yes, a man in love writes many a poem that a man in his right mind does not print. A lieutenant, his love and his lack of money – there’s an eternal triangle for you, a broken life that can never be squared. The lieutenant knew this all too well. He leaned his head against the window, and sighed, and said:“The poor watchman down there in the street is a far happier man than I. He does not know what I call want. He has a home. He has a wife and children who weep with him in his sorrows and share in his joy. Ah, I would be happier if I could trade places with him, for he is much more fortunate than I am.”Instantly, the watchman was himself again. The galoshes had transformed him into the lieutenant, as we have seen. He was far less contended up there, and preferred to be just what he had been. So the watchman turned back into a watchman.“I had a bad dream,” he said. “Strangely enough, I fancied I was the lieutenant, and I didn’t like it a bit. I missed my wife and our youngsters, who almost smother me with their kisses.”He sat down and fell to nodding again, unable to get the dream out of his head. The galoshes were still on his feet when he watched a star fall in the sky.“There goes one,” he muttered. “But there are so many it will never be missed. I’d like to have a look at those trinkets at close range. I’d especially like to see the moon, which is not the sort of thing to get lost in one’s hands. The student for whom my wife washes, says that when we die we fly about from star to star. There’s not a word of truth in it. But it would be nice, just the same, if I could take a little jaunt through the skies. My body could stay here on the steps for all that I’d care.”Now there are certain things in the world that we ought to think about before we put them into words, and if we are wearing the galoshes of Fortune it behooves us to think twice. Just listen to what happened to that watchman.All of us know how fast steam can take us. We’ve either rushed along in a train or sped by steamship across the ocean. But all this is like the gait of a sloth, or the pace of a snail, in comparison with the speed of light, which travels nineteen million times faster than the fastest race horse. Yet electricity moves even faster. Death is an electric shock to the heart, and the soul set free travels on electric wings. The sunlight takes eight minutes and some odd seconds to travel nearly one hundred million miles. On the wings of electricity, the soul can make the same journey in a few moments, and to a soul set free the heavenly bodies are as close together as the houses of friends who live in the same town with us, or even in the same neighborhood. However, this electric shock strips us of our bodies forever, unless, like the watchman, we happen to be wearing the galoshes of Fortune.In a few seconds the watchman took in his stride the two hundred and sixty thousand miles to the moon. As we know, this satellite is made of much lighter material than the earth, and is as soft as freshly fallen snow. The watchman landed in one of the numerous mountain rings which we all know from Doctor Maedler’s large map of the moon. Within the ring was a great bowl, fully four miles deep. At the bottom of this bowl lay a town. We may get some idea of what it looked like by pouring the white of an egg into a glass of water. The town was made of stuff as soft as the egg albumen, and its form was similar, with translucent towers, cupolas, and terraces, all floating in thin air.Over the watchman’s head hung our earth, like a huge dull red ball. Around him he noticed crowds of beings who doubtless corresponded to men and women of the earth, but their appearance was quite different from ours. They also had their own way of speaking, but no one could expect that the soul of a watchman would understand them. Nevertheless he did understand the language of the people in the moon very well. They were disputing about our earth, and doubting whether it could be inhabited. The air on the earth, they contended, must be too thick for any intelligent moon-man to live there. Only the moon was inhabited, they agreed, for it was the original sphere on which the people of the Old World lived.Now let us go back down to East Street, to see how the watchman’s body was making out. Lifeless it lay, there on the steps. His morning star, that spiked club which watchmen carry, had fallen from his hands, and his eyes were turned toward the moon that his honest soul was exploring.“What’s the hour, watchman?” asked a passer-by. But never an answer did he get. He gave the watchman a very slight tweak of the nose, and over he toppled. There lay the body at full length, stretched on the pavement. The man was dead. It gave the one who had tweaked him a terrible fright, for the watchman was dead, and dead he remained. His death was reported, and investigated. As day broke, his body was taken to the hospital.It would be a pretty pass if the soul should come back and in all probability look for its body in East Street, and fail to find it. Perhaps it would rush to the police station first, next to the Directory Office where it could advertise for lost articles, and last of all to the hospital. But we needn’t worry. The soul by itself is clever enough. It’s the body that makes it stupid.As we said before, the watchman’s body was taken to the hospital. They put it in a room to be washed, and naturally the galoshes were pulled off first of all. That brought the soul dashing back posthaste, and in a flash the watchman came back to life. He swore it had been the most terrible night he had ever experienced, and he would never go through it again, no, not for two pennies. But it was over and done with. He was allowed to leave that same day, but the galoshes were left at the hospital.IV. A GREAT MOMENT, AND A MOST EXTRAORDINARY JOURNEYEveryone in Copenhagen knows what the entrance to Frederic’s Hospital looks like, but as some of the people who read this story may not have been to Copenhagen, we must describe the building-briefly.The hospital is fenced off from the street by a rather high railing of heavy iron bars, which are spaced far enough apart-at least so the story goes-for very thin internes to squeeze between them and pay little visits to the world outside. The part of the body they had most difficulty in squeezing through was the head. In this, as often happens in the world, small heads were the most successful. So much for our description.One of the young internes, of whom it could be said that he had a great head only in a physical sense, had the night watch that evening. Outside the rain poured down. But in spite of these difficulties he was bent upon getting out for a quarter of an hour. There was no need for the doorman to know about it, he thought, if he could just manage to slip through the fence. There lay the galoshes that the watchman had forgotten, and while the interne had no idea that they were the galoshes of Fortune, he did know that they would stand him in good stead out in the rain. So he pulled them on. Now the question was whether he could squeeze between the bars, a trick that he had never tried before. There he stood, facing the fence.“I wish to goodness I had my head through,” he said, and though his head was much too large and thick for the space, it immediately slipped through quickly and with the greatest of ease. The galoshes saw to that. All he had to do now was to squeeze his body through after his head, but it wouldn’t go. “Uff!” he panted, “I’m too fat. I thought my head would be the worst difficulty. No, I shall never get through.”He quickly attempted to pull his head back again, but it couldn’t be done. He could move his neck easily, but that was all. First his anger flared up. Then his spirits dropped down to zero. The galoshes of Fortune had gotten him in a terrible fix, and unluckily it did not occur to him to wish his way out of it. No, instead of wishing he struggled and strove, but he could not budge from the spot. The rain poured down; not a soul could be seen in the street; and he could not reach the bell by the gate. How could he ever get free? He was certain he would have to stay there till morning, and that they would have to send for a blacksmith to file through the iron bars. It would take time. All the boys in the school across the way would be up and shout, and the entire population of “Nyboder,” where all the sailors lived, would turn out for the fun of seeing the man in a pillory. Why, he would draw a bigger crowd than the one that went to see the championship wrestling matches last year.“Huff!” he panted, “the blood’s rushing to my head. I’m going mad! Yes, I’m going mad! Oh, if I were only free again, and out of this fix, then I would be all right again.”This was what he ought to have said in the first place. No sooner had he said it than his head came free, and he dashed indoors, still bewildered by the fright that the galoshes of Fortune had given him. But don’t think that this was the end of it. No! The worst was yet to come.The night went by, and the next day passed, but nobody came for the galoshes. That evening there was to be a performance at the little theatre in Kannike Street. The house was packed and in the audience was our friend, the interne, apparently none the worse for his adventure of the night before. He had again put on the galoshes. After all, no one had claimed them, and the streets were so muddy that he thought they would stand him in good stead.At the theatre a new sketch was presented. It was called “My Grandmother’s Spectacles and had to do with a pair of eyeglasses which enabled anyone who wore them to read the future from people’s faces, just as a fortune teller reads it from cards.The idea occupied his mind very much. He would like to own such a pair of spectacles. Properly used, they might enable one to see into people’s hearts. This, he thought, would be far more interesting than foresee what would happen next year. Future events would be known in due time, but no one would ever know the secrets that lie in people’s hearts.“Look at those ladies and gentlemen in the front row,” he said to himself. “If I could see straight into their hearts what stores of things-what great shops full of goods would I behold. And how my eyes would rove about those shops. In every feminine heart, no doubt I should find a complete millinery establishment. There sits one whose shop is empty, but a good cleaning would do it no harm. And of course some of the shops would be well stocked. Ah me,” he sighed, “I know of one where all the goods are of the very best quality, and it would just suit me, but-alas and alack-there’s a shopkeeper there already, and he’s the only bad article in the whole shop. Many a one would say, “Won’t you walk in?” and I wish I could. I would pass like a nice little thought through their hearts.”The galoshes took him at his word. The interne shrank to almost nothing, and set out on a most extraordinary journey through the hearts of all the spectators in the first row. The first heart he entered was that of a lady, but at first he mistook it for a room in the Orthopaedic Institute, or Hospital, where the plaster casts of deformed limbs are hung upon the walls. The only difference was that at the hospital those casts were made when the patients came in, while these casts that were kept in the heart were made as the good people departed. For every physical or mental fault of the friends she had lost had been carefully stored away.He quickly passed on to another woman’s heart, which seemed like a great holy cathedral. Over the high altar fluttered the white dove of innocence, and the interne would have gone down on his knees except that he had to hurry on to the next heart. However, he still heard the organ roll. And he felt that it had made a new and better man of him-a man not too unworthy to enter the next sanctuary. This was a poor garret where a mother lay ill, but through the windows the sun shone, warm and bright. Lovely roses bloomed in the little wooden flower box on the roof, and two bluebirds sang of happy childhood, while the sick woman prayed for a blessing on her daughter.Next the interne crawled on his hands and knees through an overcrowded butcher shop. There was meat, more meat, and meat alone, wherever he looked in this heart of a wealthy, respectable man, whose name you can find in the directory.Next he entered the heart of this man’s wife, and an old tumble-down dove-cot he found it. Her husband’s portrait served as a mere weathervane, which was connected with the doors in such a way that they opened and closed as her husband turned round.Then he found his way into a cabinet of mirrors such as is to be seen at Rosenborg Castle, though in this heart the mirrors had the power of magnifying objects enormously. Like the Grand Lama of Tibet, the owner’s insignificant ego sat in the middle of the floor, in admiring contemplation of his own greatness.After this he seemed to be crammed into a narrow case full of sharp needles. “This,” he thought, “must certainly be an old maid’s heart,” but it was nothing of the sort. It was the heart of a very young officer who had been awarded several medals, and of whom everyone said, “Now there’s a man of both intellect and heart.”Quite befuddled was the poor interne when he popped out of the heart of the last person in the front row. He could not get his thoughts in order, and he supposed that his strong imagination must have run away with him.“Merciful heavens,” he groaned, “I must be well on the road to the madhouse. And it’s so outrageously hot in here that the blood is rushing to my head.” Suddenly he recalled what had happened the night before, when he had jammed his head between the bars of the hospital fence. “That must be what caused it,” he decided. “I must do something before it is too late. A Russian bath might be the very thing. I wish I were on the top shelf right now.”No sooner said, than there he lay on the top shelf of the steam bath. But he was fully dressed, down to his shoes and galoshes. He felt the hot drops of condensed steam fall upon him from the ceiling.” Hey!” he cried, and jumped down to take a shower. The attendant cried out too when he caught sight of a fully dressed man in the steam room. However, the interne had enough sense to pull himself together and whisper, “I’m just doing this because of a bet.”But the first thing he did when he got back to his room was to put hot plasters on his neck and his back, to draw out the madness.Next morning he had a blistered back and that was all he got out of the galoshes of Fortune.V. THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE COPYING CLERKThe watchman-you remember him-happened to remember those galoshes he had found, and that he must have been wearing them when they took his body to the hospital. He came by for them, and as neither the lieutenant nor anyone else in East Street laid claim to them, he turned them in at the police station.“They look exactly like my own galoshes,” one of the copying clerks at the police station said, as he set the ownerless galoshes down beside his own. “Not even a shoemaker could tell one pair from the other.”“Mr. Copying Clerk!” said a policeman, who brought him some papers.The clerk turned around to talk with the policeman, and when he came back to the galoshes he was uncertain whether the pair on the right or the pair on the left belonged to him.“The wet ones must be mine,” he thought, but he was mistaken, for they were the galoshes of Fortune. The police make their little mistakes too.So he pulled them on, pocketed some papers, and tucked some manuscripts under his arm to read and abstract when he got home. But as this happened to be Sunday morning, and the weather was fine, he thought, “A walk to Frederiksberg will be good for me.” And off he went.A quieter, more dependable fellow than this young man you seldom see. Let him take his little walk, by all means. It will do him a world of good after so much sitting. At first he strode along without a wish in his head, so there was no occasion for the galoshes to show their magic power. On the avenue he met an acquaintance of his, a young poet, who said he was setting out tomorrow on a summer excursion.“What, off again so soon?” said the clerk. “What a free and happy fellow you are! You can fly away wherever you like, while the rest of us are chained by the leg.”“Chained only to a breadfruit tree,” the poet reminded him. “You don’t have to worry along from day to day, and when you get old they will give you a pension.”“You are better off, just the same,” the clerk said. “How agreeable it must be to sit and write poetry. Everyone pays you compliments, and you are your own master. Ah, you should see what it’s like to devote your life to the trivial details of the courts.”The poet shook his head, and the clerk shook his too. Each held to his own conviction, and they parted company.“They are a queer race, these poets.” thought the clerk. “I should like to try my hand at their trade-to turn poet myself. I’m sure I would never write such melancholy stuff as most of them do. What a splendid spring day this is, a day fit for a poet. The air is so unusually clear, the clouds so lovely, and the green grass so fragrant. For many a year I have not felt as I feel just now.”Already, you could tell that he had turned poet. Not that there was anything you could put your finger on, for it is foolish to suppose that a poet differs greatly from other people, some of whom are far more poetic by nature than many a great and accepted poet. The chief difference is that a poet has a better memory for things of the spirit. He can hold fast to an emotion and an idea until they are firmly and clearly embodied in words, which is something that others cannot do. But for a matter-of-fact person to think in terms of poetry is noticeable enough, and it is this transformation that we can see in the clerk.“What a glorious fragrance there is in the air!” he said. “It reminds me of Aunt Lone’s violets. Ah me, I haven’t thought of them since I was a little boy. The dear old girl! She used to live over there, behind the Exchange. She always had a spray or a few green shoots in water, no matter how severe the winter was. I’d smell those violets even when I was putting hot pennies against the frozen window pane to make peep holes. What a view that was-ships frozen tight in the canal, deserted by their crew, and a shrieking crow the only living creature aboard them. But when the springtime breezes blew the scene turned lively again. There were shouts and laughter as the ice was sawed away. Freshly tarred and rigged, the ships sailed off for distant lands. I stayed here, and I must forever stay here, sitting in the police office where others come for their passports to foreign countries. Yes, that’s my lot! Oh, yes!” he said, and heaved a sigh. Then he stopped abruptly. “Great heavens! What’s come over me. I never thought or felt like this before. It must be the spring air! It is as frightening as it is pleasant.” He fumbled among the papers in his pockets.“These will give me something else to think about,” he said, as he glanced at the first page. “Lady Sigbrith, An Original Tragedy in Five Acts,” he read. “Why, what’s this? It’s in my own handwriting too. Have I written a tragedy? The Intrigue on the Ramparts, or The Great Fast Day – a Vaudeville. Where did that come from? Someone must have slipped it in my pocket. And here’s a letter.” It was from the board of directors of the theatre, who rejected his plays, and the letter was anything but politely phrased.“Hem, hem!” said the copying clerk as he sat down on a bench. His thoughts were lively and his heart sensitive. He plucked a flower at random, an ordinary little daisy. What the professor of botany requires several lectures to explain to us, this flower told in a moment. It told of the mystery birth, and of the power of the sunlight which opened those delicate leaves and gave them their fragrance. This made him think of the battle of life, which arouses emotions within us in similar fashion. Air and light are the flowers’ lovers, but light is her favorite. Toward it the flower is ever turning, and only when the light is gone does she fold her petals and sleep in the air’s embrace.“It is the light that makes me lovely,” the flower said.“But,” the poet’s voice whispered, “the air enables you to breathe.”Not far away, a boy was splashing in a muddy ditch with his stick. As the water flew up among the green branches, the clerk thought of the innumerable microscopic creatures in the splashing drops. For them to be splashed so high, was as if we were to be tossed up into the clouds. As the clerk thought of these things, and of the great change that had come over him, he smiled and said:“I must be asleep and dreaming. It’s marvelous to be able to dream so naturally, and yet to know all along that this is a dream. I hope I can recall every bit of it tomorrow, when I wake up. I seem to feel unusually exhilarated. How clearly I understand things, and how wide awake I feel! But I know that if I recall my dream it will only be a lot of nonsense, as has happened to me so often before. All those brilliant and clever remarks one makes and one hears in his dreams, are like the gold pieces that goblins store underground. When one gets them they are rich and shining, but seen in the daylight they are nothing but rocks and dry leaves. Ah me,” he sighed, as he sadly watched the singing birds flit merrily from branch to branch. “They are so much better off than I. Flying is a noble art, and lucky is he who is born with wings. Yes, if I could change into anything I liked, I would turn into a little lark.”In a trice his coat-tails and sleeves grew together as wings, his clothes turned into feathers, and his galoshes became claws. He noticed the change clearly, and laughed to himself.“Now,” he said, “I know I am dreaming, but I never had a dream as silly as this one.”Up he flew, and sang among the branches, but there was no poetry in his song, for he was no longer a poet. Like anyone who does a thoroughgoing job of it, the galoshes could only do one thing at a time. When he wishes to be a poet, a poet he became. Then he wanted to be a little bird, and in becoming one he lost his previous character.“This is most amusing,” he said. “In the daytime I sit in the police office, surrounded by the most matter-of-fact legal papers, but by night I can dream that I’m a lark flying about in the Frederiksberg Garden. What fine material this would make for a popular comedy.”He flew down on the grass, twisting and turning his head, and pecking at the waving grass blades. In proportion to his own size, they seemed as large as the palm branches in North Africa. But this lasted only a moment. Then everything turned black, and it seemed as if some huge object had dropped over him. This was a big cap that a boy from Nyboder had thrown over the bird. A hand was thrust in. It laid hold of the copying clerk by his back and wing so tightly that it made him shriek. In his terror he called out, “You impudent scoundrel! I am the copying clerk at the police office!” But this sounded like “Peep! peep!” to the boy, who thumped the bird on its beak and walked off with it.On the avenue this boy met with two other schoolboys. Socially, they were of the upper classes, though, properly ranked according to their merit, they were in the lowest class at school. They bought the bird for eight pennies, and in their hands the clerk came back to Copenhagen, to a family who lived in Gothers Street.“It’s a good thing I’m only dreaming this,” said the clerk, “or I’d be furious. First I was a poet, and now I’m a lark. It must have been my poetic temperament which turned me into this little creature. It is a very sad state of affairs, especially when one falls into the hands of a couple of boys. But I wonder how it will all turn out.”The boys carried him into a luxuriously appointed room, where a stout, affable lady received them. She was not at all pleased with their common little field bird, as she called the lark, but she said that, for one day only, they could keep it in the empty cage near the window.“Perhaps Polly will like it,” she said, and smiled at the large parrot that swung proudly to and fro on the ring in his ornate brass cage. “It’s Polly’s birthday,” she said, like a simpleton. “The little field bird wants to congratulate him.”Polly did not say a word, as proudly he swung back and forth. But a pretty canary bird who had been brought here last summer from his warm, sweet-scented homeland, began to sing at the top of his voice.“Bawler!” the lady said, and threw a white handkerchief over his cage.“Peep, peep. What a terrible snowstorm,” the canary sighed, and with that sigh he kept quiet.The clerk, or as the lady called him, the field bird, was put in a cage next to the canary’s and not far from the parrot’s. The only human words that the parrot could say, and which at times sounded quite comical, were “Come now, let us be men.” All the rest of his chatter made as little sense as the twittering of the canary. However, the clerk, who was now a bird himself, understood his companions perfectly.“I used to fly beneath green palms and flowering almond trees,” the canary bird sang. “With my brothers and sisters, I flew above beautiful flowers, and over the smooth sea where the plants that grow under water waved up at us. We used to meet many brilliant parrots, who told us the funniest stories-long ones and so many.”“Those were wild parrots!” said Polly. “Birds without any education. Come now, let us be men. Why don’t you laugh? If the lady and all her guests laugh at my remark, so should you. To lack a sense of humor is a very bad thing. Come now, let us be men.”“Do you remember the pretty girls who danced in the tents spread beneath those flowering trees?” the canary sang. “Do you remember those delicious sweet fruits, and the cool juice of the wild plants?”“Why yes,” said the parrot, “but I am much better off here, where I get the best of food and intimate treatment. I know that I am a clever bird, and that’s enough for me. Come now, let us be men. You have the soul of a poet, as they call it, and I have sound knowledge and wit. You have genius, but no discretion. You burst into that shrill, spontaneous song of yours. That’s why people cover you up. They don’t ever treat me like that. No, I have cost them a lot and, what is more imposing, my beak and my wits are sharp. Come now, let us be men.”“Oh, my warm flowery homeland!” said the canary. “I shall sing of your deep green trees and your quiet inlets, where the down-hanging branches kiss the clear mirror of the waters. I shall sing of my resplendent brothers and sisters, who rejoice as they hover over the cups of water in the cactus plants that thrive in the desert.”“Kindly stop your whimpering tunes,” the parrot said. “Sing something to make us laugh. Laughter is a sign of the loftiest intellectual development. Can a dog or a horse laugh? No! They can cry, but as for laughter-that is given to mankind alone. Ho, ho, ho!” the parrot chuckled, and added his, “Come now, let us be men.”“You little grey bird of Denmark,” the canary said to the lark, “have they made you a prisoner too? Although it must be very cold in your woods, you have your freedom there. Fly away! They have forgotten to close your cage. The door of the top is open. Fly! fly!”Without pausing to think, the clerk did as he was told. In a jiffy he was out of the cage. But just as he escaped from his prison, the half-open door leading into the next room began to creak. Stealthily, with green shining eyes, the house cat pounced in and gave chase to him. The canary fluttered in his cage. The parrot flapped his wings and called out, “Come now, let us be men.” The dreadfully frightened clerk flew out of the window and away over the streets and houses, until at last he had to stop to rest.That house across the street looked familiar. He flew in through one of its open windows. As he perched on the table he found that he was in his own room.“Come now, let us be men,” he blurted out, in spontaneous mockery of the parrot. Instantly he resumed the body of the copying clerk, who sat there, perched on the table.“How in the name of heaven,” he said, “do I happen to be sleeping here? And what a disturbing dream I’ve had-all nonsense from beginning to end.”VI. THE BEST THAT THE GALOSHES BROUGHTEarly the next morning, before the clerk was out of bed, someone tapped on his door. In walked his neighbor, a young theological student who lived on the same floor.“Lend me your galoshes,” he requested. “It is very wet in the garden, but the sun is shining so gloriously that I’d like to smoke a pipeful down there.”He pulled on the galoshes and went out into the garden, where there was one plum tree and a pear tree. But even a little garden like this one is a precious thing in Copenhagen.It was only six o’clock. As the student walked up and down the path, he heard the horn of a stagecoach in the street.“Oh, to travel, to travel!” he exclaimed, “that’s the most pleasant thing in the world. It’s the great goal of all my dreams. If only I could travel, I’m sure that this restlessness within me would be stilled. But it must be far, far away. How I should like to see beautiful Switzerland, to tour Italy, and-”Fortunately the galoshes began to function at once, or he might have traveled entirely too much to suit him or to please us. Travel he did. He was high up in Switzerland, tightly packed in a diligence with eight other travelers. He had a pain in his head, his neck felt tired, and the blood had ceased to circulate in his legs. His feet were swollen and his heavy boots hurt him. He was half awake and half asleep. In his right-hand pocket he had his letter of credit, in his left-hand pocket he had his passport, and sewn into a little bag inside his breast pocket he had a few gold pieces. Every time he dozed off he dreamed that he had lost one or another of these things. Starting feverishly awake, his first movement would be to trace with his hand a triangle from right to left, and up to his breast, to feel whether his treasures were still there.Umbrellas, hats, and walking sticks swung in the net above him and almost spoiled the magnificent view. As he glanced out the window his heart sang, as at least one poet has sung in Switzerland, these as yet unpublished words:“This view is as fine as a view can be.Mount Blanc is sublime beyond a doubt,And the traveler’s life is the life for me-But only as long as my money holds out.”Vast, severe, and somber was the whole landscape around him. The pine woods looked like patches of heather on the high cliffs, whose summits were lost in fog and cloud. Snow began to fall, and the cold wind blew.“Ah,” he sighed, “if only we were on the other side of the Alps, then it would be summer weather and I could get some money on my letter of credit. Worrying about my finances spoils all my enjoyment of Switzerland. Oh, if only I were on the other side.”And there he was on the other side, in the middle of Italy, between Florence and Rome. Before him lay Lake Thrasymene. In the evening light it looked like a sheet of flaming gold among the dark blue hills. Here, where Hannibal beat Flaminius, the grape vines clung peacefully to each other with their green tendrils. Pretty little half-clothed children tended a herd of coal-black pigs under a fragrant clump of laurels by the roadside, and if we could paint the scene in its true colors all would exclaim, “Glorious Italy!” But neither the student nor his companions in the stagecoach made any such exclamation.Poisonous flies and gnats swarmed into the coach by the thousands. In vain the travelers tried to beat them off with myrtle branches. The flies stung just the same. There was not a passenger whose face was not puffed and spotted with bites. The poor horses looked like carcasses. The flies made life miserable for them, and it only brought them a momentary relief when the coachman got down and scraped off swarms of the insects that settled upon them.Once the sun went down, an icy chill fell upon everything. It wasn’t at all pleasant. However, the hills and clouds took on that wonderful green tint, so clear and so shining. Yes, go and see for yourself. That is far better than to read about it. It was a lovely sight, and the travelers thought so too, but their stomachs were empty, their bodies exhausted, and every thought in their heads was directed toward a lodging for the night. But where would they lodge? They watched the road ahead far more attentively than they did the splendid view.Their road ran through an olive grove, and the student could fancy that he was at home, passing through a wood of gnarled willow trees. And there stood a lonely inn. A band of crippled beggars were camping outside and the liveliest among them looked like the eldest son of Famine who had just come of age. The rest either were blind, or so lame that they crawled about on their hands, or had withered arms and hands without any fingers. Here really was misery in rags.“Eccelenza, miserabili!” they groaned, and stretched forth their crippled limbs. The hostess herself went barefoot. With uncombed hair and an unwashed blouse, she received her guests. The doors were hinged with string; half of the bricks of the floors had been put to other use; bats flew about the ceiling; and the smell-“It were better to have supper in the stable,” one traveler maintained. “There one at least knows what he is breathing.”The windows were opened to let a little fresh air come inside, but swifter than the air came those withered arms and that perpetual whine, “Miserabili, eccellenza.” On the walls were many inscriptions, and half of them had little good to say for la bella Italia.Supper was served. Supper was a watery soup flavored with pepper and rancid oil. This same oil was the better part of the salad. Dubious eggs and roasted cockscombs were the best dishes, and even the wine was distasteful. It was a frightful collation.That night the trunks were piled against the door, and one of the travelers mounted guard while the others slept. The student stood the first guard mount. How close it was in there! The heat was overpowering, the gnats droned and stabbed, and outside, the miserabili whined in their dreams.“Traveling,” said the student, “would be all very well if one had no body. Oh, if only the body could rest while the spirit flies on without it. Wherever I go, there is some lack that I feel in my heart. There is always something better than the present that I desire. Yes, something better-the best of all, but what is it, and where shall I find it? Down deep in my heart, I know what I want. I want to reach a happy goal, the happiest goal of all.”As soon as the words were said, he found himself back in his home. Long white curtains draped the windows, and in the middle of the floor a black coffin stood. In this he lay, sleeping the quiet sleep of death. His wish was fulfilled-his body was at rest, and his spirit was free to travel. “Call no man happy until he rests in his grave,” said Solon, and here his words proved true again.Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality. The sphinx in this black casket that confronts us could say no more than the living man had written two days before:“Stern Death, your silence has aroused my fears.Shall not my soul up Jacob’s ladder pass,Or shall your stone weight me throughout the years,And I rise only in the graveyard grass?“Our deepest grief escapes the world’s sad eye!You who are lonely to the very last,A heavier burden on your heart must lieThan all the earth upon your coffin cast!”Two figures moved about the room. We know them both. Those two who bent over the dead man were Dame Care and Fortune’s minion.“Now,” said Care, “you can see what happiness your galoshes have brought mankind.”“They have at least brought everlasting rest to him who here lies sleeping,” said Fortune’s minion.“Oh, no!” said Care. “He went of his own free will. He was not called away. His spiritual power was not strong enough to undertake the glorious tasks for which he is destined. I shall do him a favor.”She took the galoshes from his feet. Then the sleep of death was ended, and the student awakened to life again. Care vanished, and she took the galoshes along with her, for she probably regarded them as her own property.
There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children on a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little pigs was called Browny, the second Whitey, and the youngest and best looking Blacky. Now Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard got soft, and thick, and slab. Then he would steal away from his mother’s side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for this, and would shake her head sadly and say: ‘Ah, Browny! some day you will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.’ But no words of advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.Whitey was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always thinking of her food, and looking forward to her dinner; and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard, she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would suffer for being so greedy and grabbing.Blacky was a good, nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had nice dainty ways (for a pig), and his skin was always as smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than Browny and Whitey, and his mother’s heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer’s friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.Now the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her end. One day she called the three little pigs round her and said:‘My children, I feel that I am growing odd and weak, and that I shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?’‘A house of mud,’ replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in the corner of the yard.‘And you, Whitey?’ said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.‘A house of cabbage,’ answered Whitey, with a mouth full, and scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some potato-parings.‘Foolish, foolish child!’ said the mother pig, looking quite distressed. ‘And you, Blacky?’ turning to her youngest son, ‘what sort of a house shall I order for you?’‘A house of brick, please mother, as it will be warm in winter, and cool in summer, and safe all the year round.’‘That is a sensible little pig,’ replied his mother, looking fondly at him. ‘I will see that the three houses are got ready at once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy the fox. When he hears that I am dead, he is sure to try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly and will no doubt disguise himself, and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever.’And the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales. A short time afterwards the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in their own houses.Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all day and making himself in such a mess. One day, as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door, and a gentle voice said:‘May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.’‘Who are you?’ said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice, and he feared it was the fox.‘I am a friend come to call on you,’ answered the voice.‘No, no,’ replied Browny, ‘I don’t believe you are a friend. You are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won’t let you in.’‘Oho! is that the way you answer me?’ said the fox, speaking very roughly in his natural voice. ‘We shall soon see who is master here,’ and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his den.The next day, as Whitey was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the same feigned gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he said:‘I am a friend come to visit you, and to have some of your good cabbage for my dinner.’‘Please don’t touch it,’ cried Whitey in great distress. ‘The cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away; I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.’ And poor Whitey began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig, and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way through the cabbage walls, and had caught the trembling, shivering Whitey, and carried her off to his den.The next day the fox started off for Blacky’s house, because he had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den, and then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house, he found that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he began, ‘Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.’‘No, no, Mister Fox,’ replied Blacky, ‘I am not going to open my door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and Whitey, but you are not going to get me.’At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against the wall, and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and well-built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up, and limp away with his fore-paws all bleeding and sore.‘Never mind!’ he cried angrily as he went off, ‘I’ll catch you another day, see if I don’t, and won’t I grind your bones to powder when I have got you in my den!’ and he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.Next day Blacky had to go into the neighbouring town to do some marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung over his shoulder, he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his fore-leg he managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the kettle off, and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away, when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a moment later Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with the kettle into the house, when he barred and bolted the door, and put the shutter up over the window.‘Oho!’ exclaimed the fox to himself, ‘you think you will escape me that way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,’ and very quietly and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb on to the roof.In the meantime Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the kettle was beginning to sing, and steam to come out of the spout, he heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter overhead, and the next moment the fox’s head and fore-paws were seen coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on the kettle, and, with a yelp of pain, the fox fell into the boiling water, and before he could escape, Blacky had popped the lid on, and the fox was scalded to death.As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead, and could do them no further harm, Blacky started off to rescue Browny and Whitey. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals from his poor little brother and sister who lived in constant terror of the fox killing and eating them. But when they saw Blacky appear at the entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky’s house, where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in the mud, and Whitey ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.
It befell Sir Edmund Andros to make himself the most hated of the governors sent to represent the king in New England. A spirit of independence, born of a free soil, was already moving in the people’s hearts, and the harsh edicts of this officer, as well as the oppressive measures of his master, brought him into continual conflict with the people. He it was who went to Hartford to demand the surrender of the liberties of that colony. The lights were blown out and the patent of those liberties was hurried away from under his nose and hidden from his reach in a hollow of the Charter Oak.In Boston, too, he could call no American his friend, and it was there that he met one of the first checks to his arrogance. It was an April evening in 1689, and there was an unusual stir in the streets. People were talking in low tones, and one caught such phrases as, “If the Prince of Orange is successful, this Andros will lose his head.” “Our pastors are to be burned alive in King Street.” “The pope has ordered Andros to celebrate the eve of St. Bartholomew in Boston: we are to be killed.” “Our old Governor Bradstreet is in town, and Andros fears him.” While talk was running in this excited strain the sound of a drum was heard coming through Cornhill. Now was seen a file of soldiers with guns on shoulder, matches twinkling in the falling twilight, and behind them, on horseback, Andros and his councillors, including the priest of King’s Chapel, all wearing crucifixes at their throats, all flushed with wine, all looking down with indifference at the people in their dark cloaks and broadbrimmed hats, who looked back at them with suspicion and hate. The soldiers trod the streets like men unused to giving way, and the crowd fell back, pressed against the buildings. Groans and hisses were heard, and a voice sent up this cry, “Lord of Hosts, provide a champion for thy people!”Ere the echo of that call had ceased there came from the other end of the street, stepping as in time to the drum, an aged man, in cloak and steeple hat, with heavy sword at his thigh. His port was that of a king, and his dignity was heightened by a snowy beard that fell to his waist. Taking the middle of the way he marched on until he was but a few paces from the advancing column. None knew him and he seemed to recognize none among the crowd. As he drew himself to his height, it seemed in the dusk as if he were of no mortal mould. His eye blazed, he thrust his staff before him, and in a voice of invincible command cried, “Halt!”Half because it was habit to obey the word, half because they were cowed by the majestic presence, the guard stood still and the drum was silenced. Andros spurred forward, but even he made a pause when he saw the staff levelled at his breast. “Forward!” he blustered. “Trample the dotard into the street. How dare you stop the king’s governor?”“I have stayed the march of a king himself,” was the answer. “The king you serve no longer sits on the throne of England. To-morrow you will be a prisoner. Back, lest you reach the scaffold!”A moment of hesitation on Andros’s part encouraged the people to press closer, and many of them took no pains to hide the swords and pistols that were girt upon them. The groans and hisses sounded louder. “Down with Andros! Death to tyrants! A curse on King James!” came from among the throng, and some of them stooped as if to tear up the pavings. Doubtful, yet overawed, the governor wheeled about and gloomily marched back through the streets where he had ridden so arrogantly. In truth, his next night was spent in prison, for James had fled from England, and William held the throne. All eyes being on the retreating company, the champion of the people was not seen to depart, but when they turned to praise and thank him he had vanished, and there were those who said that he had melted into twilight.The incident had passed into legend, and fourscore years had followed it, when the soldiers of another king of England marched down State Street, and fired on the people of Boston who were gathered below the old State House. Again it was said that the form of a tall, white-bearded man in antique garb was seen in that street, warning back the troops and encouraging the people to resist them. On the little field of Lexington in early dawn, and at the breastwork on Bunker Hill, where farmers worked by lantern-light, this dark form was seen—the spirit of New England. And it is told that whenever any foreign foe or domestic oppressor shall dare the temper of the people, in the van of the resisting army shall be found this champion.
A fox once practised, ’tis believed,A stratagem right well conceived.The wretch, when in the utmost straitBy dogs of nose so delicate,Approach’d a gallows, where,A lesson to like passengers,Or clothed in feathers or in furs,Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were.Their comrade, in his pressing need,Arranged himself among the dead.I seem to see old HannibalOutwit some Roman general,And sit securely in his tent,The legions on some other scent.But certain dogs, kept backTo tell the errors of the pack,Arriving where the traitor hung,A fault in fullest chorus sung.Though by their bark the welkin rung,Their master made them hold the tongue.Suspecting not a trick so odd,Said he, “The rogue’s beneath the sod.My dogs, that never saw such jokes,Won’t bark beyond these honest folks.”The rogue would try the trick again.He did so to his cost and pain.Again with dogs the welkin rings;Again our fox from gallows swings;But though he hangs with greater faithThis time, he does it to his death.So uniformly is it true,A stratagem is best when new.
Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters. The elder was so much like her, both in looks and character, that whoever saw the daughter saw the mother. They were both so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them. The younger, who was the very picture of her father for sweetness of temper and virtue, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likeness, this mother doted on her elder daughter, and at the same time had a great aversion for the younger. She made her eat in the kitchen and work continually.{Listen to Diamonds and Toads plus hundreds of other fairy tale  audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for Apple and Android devices}Among other things, this unfortunate child had to go twice a day to draw water more than a mile and a half from the house, and bring home a pitcherful of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink.“Oh, yes, with all my heart, Goody,” said this pretty little girl. Rinsing the pitcher at once, she took some of the clearest water from the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier.The good woman having drunk, said to her:–“You are so pretty, so good and courteous, that I cannot help giving you a gift.” For this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country-woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. “I will give you for gift,” continued the Fairy, “that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel.”When this pretty girl returned, her mother scolded at her for staying so long at the fountain.“I beg your pardon, mamma,” said the poor girl, “for not making more haste.”And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds.“And in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds.” Illustration by Kate Greenway. Published in Aunt’s Louisa’s Nursery Favorite by Laura Jewry Valentine (1870), Frederick Warne and Co.“What is it I see there?” said her mother, quite astonished. “I think pearls and diamonds come out of the girl’s mouth! How happens this, my child?”This was the first time she had ever called her “my child.”The girl told her frankly all the matter, not without dropping out great numbers of diamonds.“Truly,” cried the mother, “I must send my own dear child thither. Fanny, look at what comes out of your sister’s mouth when she speaks. Would you not be glad, my dear, to have the same gift? You have only to go and draw water out of the fountain, and when a poor woman asks you to let her drink, to give it to her very civilly.”“I should like to see myself going to the fountain to draw water,” said this ill-bred minx.“I insist you shall go,” said the mother, “and that instantly.”She went, but grumbled all the way, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house.She no sooner reached the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood, a magnificently dressed lady, who came up to her, and asked to drink. This was the same fairy who had appeared to her sister, but she had now taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how far this girl’s rudeness would go.“Am I come hither,” said the proud, ill-bred girl, “to serve you with water, pray? I suppose this silver tankard was brought purely for your ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out of it, if you have a fancy.”“You are scarcely polite,” answered the fairy, without anger. “Well, then, since you are so disobliging, I give you for gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad.”So soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out:–“Well, daughter?”“Well, mother?” answered the unhappy girl, throwing out of her mouth a viper and a toad.“Oh, mercy!” cried the mother, “what is it I see? It is her sister who has caused all this, but she shall pay for it,” and immediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her, and went to hide herself in the forest nearby.The King’s son, who was returning from the chase, met her, and seeing her so beautiful, asked her what she did there alone and why she cried.“Alas! sir, my mother has turned me out of doors.”The King’s son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She told him the whole story. The King’s son fell in love with her, and, considering that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion another bride could bring, conducted her to the palace of the King, his father, and there married her.As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her out of doors. The miserable girl, after wandering about and finding no one to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died.
There was once upon a time an old Queen whose husband had been dead for many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up she was betrothed to a prince who lived at a great distance. When the time came for her to be married, and she had to journey forth into the distant kingdom, the aged Queen packed up for her many costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets also of gold and silver; and cups and jewels, in short, everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart. She likewise sent her maid in waiting, who was to ride with her, and hand her over to the bridegroom, and each had a horse for the journey, but the horse of the King’s daughter was called Falada, and could speak. So when the hour of parting had come, the aged mother went into her bedroom, took a small knife and cut her finger with it until it bled, then she held a white handkerchief to it into which she let three drops of blood fall, gave it to her daughter and said, “Dear child, preserve this carefully, it will be of service to you on your way.”So they took a sorrowful leave of each other; the princess put the piece of cloth in her bosom, mounted her horse, and then went away to her bridegroom. After she had ridden for a while she felt a burning thirst, and said to her waiting-maid, “Dismount, and take my cup which thou hast brought with thee for me, and get me some water from the stream, for I should like to drink.” “If you are thirsty,” said the waiting-maid, “get off your horse yourself, and lie down and drink out of the water, I don’t choose to be your servant.” So in her great thirst the princess alighted, bent down over the water in the stream and drank, and was not allowed to drink out of the golden cup. Then she said, “Ah, Heaven!” and the three drops of blood answered, “If thy mother knew this, her heart would break.” But the King’s daughter was humble, said nothing, and mounted her horse again. She rode some miles further, but the day was warm, the s un scorched her, and she was thirsty once more, and when they came to a stream of water, she again cried to her waiting- maid, “Dismount, and give me some water in my golden cup,” for she had long ago forgotten the girl’s ill words. But the waiting-maid said still more haughtily, “If you wish to drink, drink as you can, I don’t choose to be your maid.” Then in her great thirst the King’s daughter alighted, bent over the flowing stream, wept and said, “Ah, Heaven!” and the drops of blood again replied, ” If thy mother knew this, her heart would break.” And as she was thus drinking and leaning right over the stream, the handkerchief with the three drops of blood fell out of her bosom, and floated away with the water without her observing it, so great was her trouble. The waiting-maid, however, had seen it, and she rejoiced to think that she had now power over the bride, for since the princess had lost the drops of blood, she had become weak and powerless. So now when she wanted to mount her horse again, the one that was called Falada, the waiting-maid said, “Falada is more suitable for me, and my nag will do for thee” and the princess had to be content with that. Then the waiting-maid, with many hard words, bade the princess exchange her royal apparel for her own shabby clothes; and at length she was compelled to swear by the clear sky above her, that she would not say one word of this to any one at the royal court, and if she had not taken this oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw all this, and observed it well.The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the true bride the bad horse, and thus they travelled onwards, until at length they entered the royal palace. There were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince sprang forward to meet her, lifted the waiting-maid from her horse, and thought she was his consort. She was conducted upstairs, but the real princess was left standing below. Then the old King looked out of the window and saw her standing in the courtyard, and how dainty and delicate and beautiful she was, and instantly went to the royal apartment, and asked the bride about the girl she had with her who was standing down below in the courtyard, and who she was? “I picked her up on my way for a companion; give the girl something to work at, that she may not stand idle.” But the old King had no work for her, and knew of none, so he said, “I have a little boy who tends the geese, she may help him.” The boy was called Conrad, and the true bride had to help him to tend the geese. Soon afterwards the false bride said to the young King, “Dearest husband, I beg you to do me a favour.” He answered, “I will do so most willingly.” “Then send for the knacker, and have the head of the horse on which I rode here cut off, for it vexed me on the way.” In reality, she was afraid that the horse might tell how she had behaved to the King’s daughter. Then she succeeded in making the King promise that it should be done, and the faithful Falada was to die; this came to the ears of the real princess, and she secretly promised to pay the knacker a piece of gold if he would perform a small service for her. There was a great dark-looking gateway in the town, through which morning and evening she had to pass with the geese: would he be so good as to nail up Falada’s head on it, so that she might see him again, more than once. The knacker’s man promised to do that, and cut off the head, and nailed it fast beneath the dark gateway.Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath this gateway, she said in passing,“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”Then the head answered,“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare!If this your tender mother knew,Her heart would surely break in two.”Then they went still further out of the town, and drove their geese into the country. And when they had come to the meadow, she sat down and unbound her hair which was like pure gold, and Conrad saw it and delighted in its brightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Then she said,“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,Blow Conrad’s little hat away,And make him chase it here and there,Until I have braided all my hair,And bound it up again.”And there came such a violent wind that it blew Conrad’s hat far away across country, and he was forced to run after it. When he came back she had finished combing her hair and was putting it up again, and he could not get any of it. Then Conrad was angry, and would not speak to her, and thus they watched the geese until the evening, and then they went home.Next day when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway, the maiden said,“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”Falada answered,“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare!If this your tender mother knew,Her heart would surely break in two.”And she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair, and Conrad ran and tried to clutch it, so she said in haste,“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,Blow Conrad’s little hat away,And make him chase it here and there,Until I have braided all my hair,And bound it up again.”Then the wind blew, and blew his little hat off his head and far away, and Conrad was forced to run after it, and when he came back, her hair had been put up a long time, and he could get none of it, and so they looked after their geese till evening came.But in the evening after they had got home, Conrad went to the old King, and said, “I won’t tend the geese with that girl any longer!” “Why not?” inquired the aged King. “Oh, because she vexes me the whole day long.” Then the aged King commanded him to relate what it was that she did to him. And Conrad said, “In the morning when we pass beneath the dark gateway with the flock, there is a sorry horse’s head on the wall, and she says to it,“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”And the head replies,“Alas, young Queen how ill you fare!If this your tender mother knew,Her heart would surely break in two.”And Conrad went on to relate what happened on the goose pasture, and how when there he had to chase his hat.The aged King commanded him to drive his flock out again next day, and as soon as morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and heard how the maiden spoke to the head of Falada, and then he too went into the country, and hid himself in the thicket in the meadow. There he soon saw with his own eyes the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing their flock, and how after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair, which shone with radiance. And soon she said,“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,Blow Conrad’s little hat away,And make him chase it here and there,Until I have braided all my hair,And bound it up again.”Then came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad’s hat, so that he had to run far away, while the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting her hair, all of which the King observed. Then, quite unseen, he went away, and when the goose-girl came home in the evening, he called her aside, and asked why she did all these things. “I may not tell you that, and I dare not lament my sorrows to any human being, for I have sworn not to do so by the heaven which is above me; if I had not done that, I should have lost my life.” He urged her and left her no peace, but he could draw nothing from her. Then said he, “If thou wilt not tell me anything, tell thy sorrows to the iron-stove there,” and he went away. Then she crept into the iron-stove, and began to weep and lament, and emptied her whole heart, and said, “Here am I deserted by the whole world, and yet I am a King’s daughter, and a false waiting-maid has by force brought me to such a pass that I have been compelled to put off my royal apparel, and she has taken my place with my bride-groom, and I have to perform menial service as a goose-girl. If my mother did but know that, her heart would break.”The aged King, however, was standing outside by the pipe of the stove, and was listening to what she said, and heard it. Then he came back again, and bade her come out of the stove. And royal garments were placed on her, and it was marvellous how beautiful she was! The aged King summoned his son, and revealed to him that he had got the false bride who was only a waiting- maid, but that the true one was standing there, as the sometime goose-girl. The young King rejoiced with all his heart when he saw her beauty and youth, and a great feast was made ready to which all the people and all good friends were invited. At the head of the table sat the bride-groom with the King’s daughter at one side of him, and the waiting-maid on the other, but the waiting-maid was blinded, and did not recognize the princess in her dazzling array. When they had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the aged King asked the waiting-maid as a riddle, what a person deserved who had behaved in such and such a way to her master, and at the same time related the whole story, and asked what sentence such an one merited? Then the false bride said, “She deserves no better fate than to be stripped entirely naked, and put in a barrel which is studded inside with pointed nails, and two white horses should be harnessed to it, which will drag her along through one street after another, till she is dead.” “It is thou,” said the aged King, “and thou hast pronounced thine own sentence, and thus shall it be done unto thee.” And when the sentence had been carried out, the young King married his true bride, and both of them reigned over their kingdom in peace and happiness.
Author’s note: This story comes from the Isle of Rugen.There once lived in Rambin an honest, industrious man, named James Dietrich. He had several children, all of a good disposition, especially the youngest, whose name was John. John Dietrich was a handsome, smart boy, diligent at school, and obedient at home. His great passion was for hearing stories, and whenever he met any one who was well stored he never let him go till he had heard them all.When John was about eight years old he was sent to spend a summer with his uncle, a farmer, in Rodenkirchen. Here John had to keep cows with other boys, and they used to drive them to graze about the Nine-hills. There was an old cowherd, one Klas Starkwolt who used frequently to join the boys, and then they would sit down together and tell stories. Klas abounded in these, and he became John Dietrich’s dearest friend. In particular, he knew a number of stories of the Nine-hills, and the underground people in the old times, when the giants disappeared from the country and the little ones came into the hills. These tales John swallowed so eagerly that he thought of nothing else, and was for ever talking of golden cups, and crowns, and glass shoes, and pockets full of ducats, and gold rings, and diamond coronets, and snow-white brides, and such like. Old Klas used often to shake his head at him, and say—“John! John! what are you about? The spade and scythe will be your sceptre and crown, and your bride will wear a garland of rosemary, and a gown of striped drill.”Still John almost longed to get into the Nine-hills, for Klas told him that every one who by luck or cunning should get a cap of the little ones might go down with safety, and instead of their making a servant of him, he would be their master. The person whose cap he got would be his servant, and obey all his commands.St. John’s day, when the days were longest and the nights shortest, was now come. Old and young kept the holiday, had all sorts of plays, and told all kinds of stories. John could now no longer contain himself, but the day after the festival he slipt away to the Nine-hills, and when it grew dark laid himself down on the top of the highest of them, where Klas had told him the underground people had their principal dancing-place. John lay quite still from ten till twelve at night. At last it struck twelve. Immediately there was a ringing and a singing in the hills, and then a whispering and a lisping, and a whiz and a buzz all about him, for the little people were now, some whirling round and round in the dance, and others sporting and tumbling about in the moonshine, and playing a thousand merry pranks and tricks. He felt a secret dread come over him at this whispering and buzzing, for he could see nothing of them, as the caps they wore made them invisible, but he lay quite still with his face in the grass, and his eyes fast shut, snoring a little, just as if he were asleep. Now and then he ventured to open his eyes a little and peep out, but not the slightest trace of them could he see, though it was bright moonlight.It was not long before three of the underground people came jumping up to where he was lying, but they took no heed of him, and flung their brown caps up into the air, and caught them from one another. At length one snatched the cap out of the hand of another and flung it away. It flew direct, and fell upon John’s head. The moment he felt it he caught hold of it, and, standing up, bid farewell to sleep. He flung his cap about for joy and made the little silver bell of it jingle, then set it upon his head, and—oh wonderful! that instant he saw the countless and merry swarm of the little people.The three little men came slily up to him, and thought by their nimbleness to get back the cap, but he held his prize fast, and they saw clearly that nothing was to be done in this way with him, for in size and strength John was a giant in comparison with these little fellows, who hardly came up to his knee. The owner of the cap now came up very humbly to the finder, and begged, in as supplicating a tone as if his life depended upon it, that he would give him back his cap.“No,” said John, “you sly little rogue, you will get the cap no more. That’s not the sort of thing one gives away for buttered cake. I should be in a nice way with you if I had not something of yours, but now you have no power over me, but must do what I please. I will go down with you and see how you live down below, and you shall be my servant. Nay, no grumbling. You know you must. I know that just as well as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me often and often!”The little man made as if he had not heard or understood one word of all this. He began his crying and whining over again, and wept and screamed and howled most piteously for his little cap. John, however, cut the matter short by saying—“Have done. You are my servant, and I intend to make a trip with you.”So he gave up, especially as the others told him there was no remedy.John now flung away his old hat, and put on the cap, and set it firm on his head lest it should slip off or fly away, for all his power lay in the cap. He lost no time in trying its virtues, and commanded his new servant to fetch him food and drink. The servant ran away like the wind, and in a second was there again with bottles of wine, and bread, and rich fruits. So John ate and drank, and looked at the sports and dancing of the little ones, and it pleased him right well, and he behaved himself stoutly and wisely, as if he had been a born master.“When the cock had now crowed for the third time….the little men disappeared.” Illustration by Warwick Goble, published in The Fairy Book by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik (1863), MacMillan and Co.When the cock had now crowed for the third time, and the little larks had made their first twirl in the sky, and the infant light appeared in solitary white streaks in the east, then it went hush, hush, hush, through the bushes and flowers and stalks, and the hills rent again, and opened up, and the little men went down. John gave close attention to everything, and found that it was exactly as he had been told, and, behold! on the top of the hill, where they had just been dancing, and where all was full of grass and flowers, as people see it by day, there rose of a sudden, when the retreat was sounded, a bright glass point. Whoever wanted to go in stepped upon this. It opened, and he glided gently in, the grass closing again after him; and when they had all entered it vanished, and there was no further trace of it to be seen. Those who descended through the glass point sank quite gently into a wide silver tun, which held them all, and could have easily harboured a thousand such little people. John and his man went down into such a one along with several others, all of whom screamed out, and prayed him not to tread on them, for if his weight came on them they were dead men. He was, however, careful, and acted in a very friendly way towards them. Several tuns of this kind went up and down after each other, until all were in. They hung by long silver chains, which were drawn and hung without.In his descent John was amazed at the brilliancy of the walls between which the tun glided down. They were all, as it were, beset with pearls and diamonds, glittering and sparkling brightly, and below him he heard the most beautiful music tinkling at a distance, so that he did not know what was become of him, and from excess of pleasure he fell fast asleep.He slept a long time, and when he awoke he found himself in the most beautiful bed that could be, such as he had never seen the like of in his father’s house, and it was in the prettiest chamber in the world, and his servant was beside him with a fan to keep away the flies and gnats. He had hardly opened his eyes when his little servant brought him a basin and towel, and held him the nicest new clothes of brown silk to put on, most beautifully made. With these was a pair of new black shoes with red ribbons, such as John had never beheld in Rambin or in Rodinkirchen either. There were also there several pairs of beautiful shining glass shoes, such as are only used on great occasions. John was, as we may well suppose, delighted to have such clothes to wear, and he put them upon him joyfully. His servant then flew like lightning, and returned with a breakfast of wine and milk, and beautiful white bread and fruits, and such other things as boys are fond of. He now perceived every moment more and more, that Klas Starkwolt, the old cowherd, knew what he was talking about, for the splendour and magnificence he saw here surpassed anything he had ever dreamt of. His servant, too, was the most obedient one possible, a nod or a sign was enough for him, for he was as wise as a bee, as all these little people are by nature John’s bedchamber was all covered with emeralds and other precious stones, and in the ceiling was a diamond as big as a nine-pin bowl, that gave light to the whole chamber. In this place they have neither sun nor moon nor stars to give them light, neither do they use lamps or candlesticks of any kind, but they live in the midst of precious stones, and have the purest of gold and silver in abundance, and the skill to make it light both by day and night, though indeed, properly speaking, as there is no sun there, there is no distinction between day and night, and they reckon only by weeks. They set the brightest and clearest precious stones in their dwellings, and in the ways and passages leading underground, and in the places where they had their large halls, and their dances and their feasts, where they sparkled so as to make it eternal day.When John had finished breakfast, his servant opened a little door in the wall, where was a closet with the most beautiful silver and gold cups and dishes and other vessels and baskets filled with ducats and boxes of jewels and precious stones. There were also charming pictures, and the most delightful books he had seen in the whole course of his life.John spent the morning looking at these things, and when it was midday a bell rang, and his servant said—“Will you dine alone, sir, or with the large company?”“With the large company, to be sure,” replied John. So his servant led him out. John, however, saw nothing but solitary halls lighted up with precious stones, and here and there little men and women, who appeared to him to glide in and out of the clefts and fissures of the rocks. Wondering what it was the bells rang for, he said to his servant—“But where is the company?”Scarcely had he spoken when the hall they were in opened out to a great extent, and a canopy set with diamonds and precious stones was drawn over it. At the same moment he saw an immense throng of nicely dressed little men and women pouring in through several open doors. The floor opened in several places, and tables, covered with the most beautiful ware, and the most luscious meats and fruits and wines, placed themselves beside each other, and the chairs arranged themselves along the tables, and then the men and women took their seats.The principal persons now came forward and bowed to John, and led him to their table, where they placed him among their most beautiful maidens, a distinction which pleased John well. The party, too, was very merry, for the underground people are extremely lively and cheerful, and can never stay long quiet. Then the most charming music sounded over their heads, and beautiful birds, flying about, sang most sweetly, and these were not real birds but artificial ones which the little men make so ingeniously that they can fly about and sing like natural ones.The servants of both sexes who waited at table and handed about the golden cups, and the silver and crystal baskets with fruit, were children belonging to this world, whom some casualty or other had thrown among the underground people, and who, having come down without securing any pledge, were fallen into the power of the little ones. These were differently clad. The boys and girls were dressed in short white coats and jackets, and wore glass shoes so fine that their step could never be heard, with blue caps on their heads, and silver belts round their waists.John at first pitied them, seeing how they were forced to run about and wait on the little people, but as they looked cheerful and happy, and were handsomely dressed, and had such rosy cheeks, he said to himself—”After all, they are not so badly off, and I was myself much worse when I had to be running after the cows and bullocks. To be sure I am now a master here, and they are servants, but there is no help for it. Why were they so foolish as to let themselves be taken and not get some pledge beforehand? At any rate the time must come when they will be set at liberty, and they will certainly not be longer than fifty years here.”With these thoughts he consoled himself, and sported and played away with his little play-fellows, and ate, and drank, and made his servant tell him stories, for he would know everything exactly.They sat at table about two hours. The principal person then rang a bell, and the tables and chairs all vanished in a whiff, leaving all the company on their feet. The birds now struck up a most lively air, and the little people danced their rounds most merrily. When they were done, the joyous sets jumped and leaped, and whirled themselves round and round, as if the world was grown dizzy. The pretty girls who sat next John caught hold of him and whirled him about, and, without making any resistance, he danced round and round with them for two good hours. Every afternoon while he remained there he used to dance thus merrily with them, and, to the last hour of his life, he used to speak of it with the greatest glee. His language was—that the joys of heaven and the songs and music of the angels, which the righteous hope to enjoy there, might be excessively beautiful, but that he could conceive nothing to surpass the music and the dancing under the earth, the beautiful and lively little men, the wonderful birds in the branches, and the tinkling silver bells in their caps.“No one,” said he, “who has not seen and heard it, can form any idea whatever of it.”When the music and dancing were over it might be about four o’clock. The little people then disappeared, and went each about his own business or pleasure. After supper they sported and danced in the same way, and at midnight, especially on star-light nights, they slipped out of their hills to dance in the open air. John used then to say his prayers, a duty he never neglected either in the evening or in the morning, and go to sleep.For the first week John was in the glass hill, he only went from his chamber to the great hall and back again. After the first week, however, he began to walk about, making his servant show and explain everything to him. He found that there were in that place the most beautiful walks in which he might ramble about for miles, in all directions, without ever finding an end to them, so immensely large was the hill in which the little people lived, and yet outwardly it seemed but a little place, with a few bushes and trees growing on it.It was extraordinary that, between the meads and fields, which were thick sown with hills and lakes and islands, and ornamented with trees and flowers in great variety, there ran, as it were, small lanes, through which, as through crystal rocks, one was obliged to pass to come to any new place; and the single meads and fields were often a mile long, and the flowers were so brilliant and so fragrant, and the songs of the numerous birds so sweet, that John had never seen anything on earth like it. There was a breeze, and yet one did not feel the wind. It was quite clear and bright, and yet there was no heat. The waves were dashing, still there was no danger, and the most beautiful little barks and canoes came, like white swans, when one wanted to cross the water, and went backwards and forwards of themselves. Whence all this came no one knew, nor could John’s servant tell anything about it, but one thing John saw plainly, which was, that the large carbuncles and diamonds that were set in the roof and walls gave light instead of the sun, moon, and stars.These lovely meads and plains were, for the most part, all lonesome. Few of the underground people were to be seen upon them, and those that were just glided across them as if in the greatest hurry. It very rarely happened that any of them danced out there in the open air. Sometimes about three of them did so, or, at the most, half a dozen. John never saw a greater number together. The meads were never cheerful except when the servants, of whom there might be some hundreds, were let out to walk. This, however, happened but twice a week, for they were mostly kept employed in the great hall and adjoining apartments or at school.For John soon found they had schools there also. He had been there about ten months when one day he saw something snow-white gliding into a rock and disappearing.“What!” said he to his servant, “are there some of you that wear white like the servants?”He was informed that there were, but they were few in number, and never appeared at the large tables or the dances, except once a year, on the birthday of the great Hill-king, who dwelt many thousand miles below in the great deep. These were the oldest among them, some of them many thousand years old, who knew all things and could tell of the beginning of the world, and were called the Wise. They lived all alone, and only left their chambers to instruct the underground children and the attendants of both sexes, for whom there was a great school.John was much pleased with this intelligence, and he determined to take advantage of it; so next morning he made his servant conduct him to the school, and was so well pleased with it that he never missed a day going there. They were there taught reading, writing, and accounts, to compose and relate histories, stories, and many elegant kinds of work, so that many came out of the hills, both men and women, very prudent and knowing people in consequence of what they were taught there. The biggest, and those of best capacity, received instruction in natural science and astronomy, and in poetry and in riddle-making, arts highly esteemed among the little people. John was very diligent, and soon became a most clever painter and drawer. He wrought, too, most ingeniously in gold and silver and stones, and in verse and riddle-making he had no fellow.John had spent many a happy year here without ever thinking of the upper world, or of those he had left behind, so pleasantly passed the time—so many agreeable companions had he.Of all of them there was none of whom he was so fond as of a fair-haired girl named Elizabeth Krabbe. She was from his own village, and was the daughter of Frederick Krabbe, the minister of Rambin. She was but four years old when she was taken away, and John had often heard tell of her. She was not, however, stolen by the little people, but had come into their power in this manner. One day in summer she and other children ran out into the fields. In their rambles they went to the Nine-hills, where little Elizabeth fell asleep, and was forgotten by the rest. At night when she awoke, she found herself under the ground among the little people. It was not merely because she was from his own village that John was so fond of Elizabeth, but she was very beautiful, with clear blue eyes and ringlets of fair hair, and a most angelic smile. Time flew away unperceived. John was now eighteen, and Elizabeth sixteen. Their childish fondness was now become love, and the little people were pleased to see it, thinking that by means of her they might get John to renounce his power, and become their servant, for they were fond of him, and would willingly have had him to wait upon them, for the love of dominion is their vice. They were, however, mistaken. John had learned too much from his servant to be caught in that way.John’s chief delight was walking about with Elizabeth, for he now knew every place so well that he could dispense with the attendance of his servant. In these rambles he was always gay and lively, but his companion was frequently sad and melancholy, thinking on the land above, where men live, and where the sun, moon, and stars shine. Now it happened in one of their walks, as they talked of their love, and it was after midnight, they passed under the place where the tops of the glass hills used to open and let the underground people in and out. As they went along, they heard of a sudden the crowing of several cocks above. At this sound, which she had not heard for several years, Elizabeth felt her heart so affected that she could contain herself no longer, but throwing her arms about John’s neck, she bathed his cheek with her tears. At length she said—“Dearest John, everything down here is very beautiful, and the little people are kind and do nothing to injure me, but still I have been always uneasy, nor ever felt any pleasure till I began to love you; and yet that is not pure pleasure, for this is not a right way of living, such as is fit for human beings. Every night I dream of my father and mother, and of our churchyard where the people stand so pious at the church door waiting for my father, and I could weep tears of blood that I cannot go into the church with them and worship God as a human being should, for this is no Christian life we lead down here, but a delusive half-heathen one. And only think, dear John, that we can never marry, as there is no priest to join us. Do, then, plan some way for us to leave this place, for I cannot tell you how I long to get once more to my father, and among pious Christians.”John, too, had not been unaffected by the crowing of the cocks, and he felt what he had never felt there before, a longing after the land where the sun shines.“Dear Elizabeth,” said he, “all you say is true, and I now feel it is a sin for Christians to stay here, and it seems to me as if our Lord said to us in that cry of the cocks, ‘Come up, ye Christian children, out of those abodes of illusion and magic. Come to the light of the stars, and act as children of the light.’ I now feel that it was a great sin for me to come down here, but I trust I shall be forgiven on account of my youth, for I was only a boy, and knew not what I did. But now I will not stay a day longer. They cannot keep me here.”At these last words Elizabeth turned pale, for she recollected that she was a servant, and must serve her fifty years.“And what will it avail me,” cried she, “that I shall continue young, and be but as of twenty years when I go out, for my father and mother will be dead, and all my companions old and grey; and you, dearest John, will be old and grey also,” cried she, throwing herself on his bosom.John was thunderstruck at this, for it had never before occurred to him. He, however, comforted her as well as he could, and declared he would never leave the place without her. He spent the whole night in forming various plans. At last he fixed on one, and in the morning he despatched his servant to summon to his apartment six of the principal of the little people. When they came, John thus mildly addressed them—“My friends, you know how I came here, not as a prisoner or servant, but as a lord and master over one of you, and of consequence over all. You have now for the ten years I have been with you treated me with respect and attention, and for that I am your debtor. But you are still more my debtors, for I might have given you every sort of vexation and annoyance, and you must have submitted to it. I have, however, not done so, but have behaved as your equal, and have sported and played with you rather than ruled over you. I have now one request to make. There is a girl among your servants whom I love, Elizabeth Krabbe, of Rambin, where I was born. Give her to me and let us depart, for I will return to where the sun shines and the plough goes through the land. I ask to take nothing with me but her and the ornaments and furniture of my chamber.”He spoke in a determined tone, and they hesitated and cast their eyes upon the ground. At last the oldest of them replied—“Sir, you ask what we cannot grant. It is a fixed law that no servant can leave this place before the appointed time. Were we to break through this law our whole subterranean empire would fall. Anything else you desire, for we love and respect you, but we cannot give up Elizabeth.”“You can, and you shall, give her up!” cried John in a rage. “Go, think of it till to-morrow. Return then at this hour. I will show you whether or not I can triumph over your hypocritical and cunning stratagems.”The six retired. Next morning, on their return, John addressed them in the kindest manner, but to no purpose. They persisted in their refusal. He gave them till the next day, threatening them severely in case they still proved refractory.Next day, when the six little people appeared before him, John looked at them sternly, and made no return to their salutations, but said to them shortly—“Yes, or No?”They answered, with one voice, “No.” He then ordered his servant to summon twenty-four more of the principal persons, with their wives and children. When they came they were in all five hundred men, women, and children. John ordered them forthwith to go and fetch pick-axes, spades, and bars, which they did in a second.He now led them out to a rock in one of the fields, and ordered them to fall to work at blasting, hewing, and dragging stones. They toiled patiently, and made as if it were only sport to them.From morning till night their task-master made them labour without ceasing, standing over them constantly to prevent them resting. Still their obstinacy was inflexible, and at the end of some weeks his pity for them was so great that he was obliged to give over.He now thought of a new species of punishment for them. He ordered them to appear before him next morning, each provided with a new whip. They obeyed, and John commanded them to lash one another, and he stood looking on while they did it, as grim and cruel as an Eastern tyrant. Still the little people cut and slashed themselves and mocked at John, and refused to comply with his wishes. This he did for three or four days.Several other courses did he try, but all in vain. His temper was too gentle to struggle with their obstinacy, and he commenced to despair of ever accomplishing his dearest wish. He began now to hate the little people of whom he had before been so fond. He kept away from their banquets and dances, and associated with none but Elizabeth, and ate and drank quite solitary in his chamber. In short, he became almost a hermit, and sank into moodiness and melancholy.While in this temper, as he was taking a solitary walk in the evening, and, to divert his melancholy, was flinging the stones that lay in his path against each other, he happened to break a tolerably large one, and out of it jumped a toad. The moment John saw the ugly animal he caught him up in ecstasy, and put him in his pocket and ran home, crying—“Now I have her! I have my Elizabeth! Now you shall get it, you little mischievous rascals!”On getting home he put the toad into a costly silver casket, as if it was the greatest treasure.To account for John’s joy, you must know that Klas Starkwolt had often told him that the underground people could not endure any ill smell, and that the sight, or even the smell, of a toad made them faint, and suffer the most dreadful tortures, and that by means of one of those odious animals one could compel them to do anything. Hence there are no bad smells to be found in the whole glass empire, and a toad is a thing unheard of there. This toad must certainly have been enclosed in the stone from the creation, as it were, for the sake of John and Elizabeth.Resolved to try the effect of his toad, John took the casket under his arm and went out, and on the way he met two of the little people in a lonesome place. The moment he approached they fell to the ground, and whimpered and howled most lamentably as long as he was near them.Satisfied now of his power, he, the next morning, summoned the fifty principal persons, with their wives and children, to his apartment. When they came he addressed them, reminding them once again of his kindness and gentleness towards them, and of the good terms on which they had hitherto lived. He reproached them with their ingratitude in refusing him the only favour he had ever asked of them, but firmly declared that he would not give way to their obstinacy.“Therefore,” said he, “for the last time, think for a minute, and if you then say ‘No,’ you shall feel that pain which is to you and your children the most terrible of all pains.”They did not take long to deliberate, but unanimously replied “No”; and they thought to themselves, “What new scheme has the youth hit on with which he thinks to frighten wise ones like us?” and they smiled as they said “No.” Their smiling enraged John above all, and he ran back a few hundred paces to where he had laid the casket with the toad under a bush.He was hardly come within a few hundred paces of them when they all fell to the ground as if struck with a thunderbolt, and began to howl and whimper, and to writhe, as if suffering the most excruciating pain. They stretched out their hands, and cried—“Have mercy, have mercy! We feel you have a toad, and there is no escape for us. Take the odious beast away, and we will do all you require.”He let them kick a few seconds longer, and then took the toad away. They then stood up and felt no more pain. John let all depart but the six chief persons, to whom he said—“This night, between twelve and one, Elizabeth and I will depart. Load then for me three waggons with gold and silver and precious stones. I might, you know, take all that is in the hill, and you deserve it; but I will be merciful. Further, you must put all the furniture of my chamber in two waggons, and get ready for me the handsomest travelling carriage that is in the hill, with six black horses. Moreover, you must set at liberty all the servants who have been so long here that on earth they would be twenty years old and upwards; and you must give them as much silver and gold as will make them rich for life, and make a law that no one shall be detained here longer than his twentieth year.”The six took the oath, and went away quite melancholy; and John buried his toad deep in the ground. The little people laboured hard, and prepared everything. At midnight everything was out of the hill; and John and Elizabeth got into the silver tun, and were drawn up.It was then one o’clock, and it was midsummer, the very time that, twelve years before, John had gone down into the hill. Music sounded around them, and they saw the glass hill open, and the rays of the light of heaven shine on them after so many years. And when they got out, they saw the first streaks of dawn already in the east. Crowds of the underground people were around them, busied about the waggons. John bid them a last farewell, waved his brown cap three times in the air, and then flung it among them. At the same moment he ceased to see them. He beheld nothing but a green hill, and the well-known bushes and fields, and heard the town-clock of Rambin strike two. When all was still, save a few larks, who were tuning their morning songs, they all fell on their knees and worshipped God, resolving henceforth to live a pious and a Christian life.When the sun rose, John arranged the procession, and they set out for Rambin. Every well-known object that they saw awoke pleasing recollections in the bosom of John and his bride; and as they passed by Rodenkirchen, John recognised, among the people that gazed at and followed them, his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd, and his dog Speed. It was about four in the morning when they entered Rambin, and they halted in the middle of the village, about twenty paces from the house where John was born. The whole village poured out to gaze on these Asiatic princes, for such the old sexton, who had in his youth been at Constantinople and at Moscow, said they were. There John saw his father and mother, and his brother Andrew, and his sister Trine. The old minister Krabbe stood there too, in his black slippers and white nightcap, gaping and staring with the rest.John discovered himself to his parents, and Elizabeth to hers; and the wedding-day was soon fixed. And such a wedding was never seen before or since in the island of Rügen, for John sent to Stralsund and Greifswald for whole boat-loads of wine and sugar and coffee; and whole herds of oxen, sheep, and pigs were driven to the feast. The quantity of harts and roes and hares that were shot upon the occasion it were vain to attempt to tell, or to count the fish that was caught. There was not a musician in Rügen or in Pomerania that was not engaged, for John was immensely rich, and he wished to display his wealth.John did not neglect his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd. He gave him enough to make him comfortable for the rest of his days, and insisted on his coming and staying with him as often and as long as he wished.After his marriage John made a progress through the country with his wife; and he purchased towns and villages and lands until he became master of nearly half Rügen and a very considerable Count in the country. His father, old James Dietrich, was made a nobleman, and his brothers and sisters gentlemen and ladies—for what cannot money do? John and his wife spent their days in doing acts of piety and charity. They built several churches, and had the blessing of every one that knew them, and died universally lamented. It was Count John Dietrich that built and richly endowed the present church of Rambin. He built it on the site of his father’s house, and presented to it several of the cups and plates made by the underground people, and his own and Elizabeth’s glass-shoes, in memory of what had befallen them in their youth. But they were taken away in the time of the great Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, when the Russians came on the island and the Cossacks plundered even the churches, and took away everything.
Fourth PartThe night was now over: darkness, the harbourer of vice, fled away; the day dawned. King Alakesa left his bedchamber, bathed and made his religious ablutions, and, after breakfasting, summoned a council of all his father’s old ministers and advisers. Alakesa took his seat in the midst of the assembly; anger was clearly visible in his countenance; his eyes had lost their natural expression and had turned very red; his breath was as hot as that of a furnace. He thus addressed them:—“Know ye all, the ministers of my father and of myself, that last night, during the first watch, my First Minister, Bodhaditya, while I and my queen were asleep in our chamber, came and touched with his finger the bosom of my queen. Consider well the gravity of this crime, and express your opinions as to what punishment he merits.”Thus spake king Alakesa, but all the ministers, not knowing what answer to return, hung down their heads in silence. Among those present was an aged minister named Manuniti, who called Bodhaditya to his side and privately learned the whole story. He then humbly bowed before the king, and thus spake:—“Most noble king, men are not always all-wise, and, before replying to your Majesty’s question, I beg permission to relate in your presence the story of a king in whose reign a certain benevolent action was repaid with disgrace and ignominy:—Story of the Wonderful Mango Fruit.On the banks of the Kâvêrî there was a city called Tiruvidaimarudur, where ruled a king named Chakraditya. In that city there lived a poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife, who, having no children, brought up in their house a young parrot as tenderly as if it had been their own offspring. One day the parrot was sitting on the roof of the house, basking itself in the morning sun, when a large flock of parrots flew past, talking to each other about certain mango fruits. The Brâhmaṇ’s parrot asked them what were the peculiar properties of those fruits, and was informed that beyond the seven oceans there was a great mango tree, the fruit of which gave perpetual youth to the person who ate of it, however old and infirm he might be. On hearing of this wonder the Brâhmaṇ’s parrot requested permission to accompany them, which being granted, they all continued their flight. When at length they arrived at the mango tree, all ate of its fruit; but the Brâhmaṇ’s parrot reflected:—“It would not be right for me to eat this fruit; I am young, while my adopted parents, the poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife are very old. So I shall give them this fruit, and they will become young and blooming by eating it.”And that same evening the good parrot brought the fruit to the Brâhmaṇ, and explained to him its extraordinary properties. But the Brâhmaṇ thought within himself:—“I am a beggar. What matters it if I become young and live for ever, or else die this very moment? Our king is very good and charitable. If such a great man should eat of this fruit and renew his youth, he would confer the greatest benefit on mankind. Therefore I will give this mango to our good king.”In pursuance of this self-denying resolution, the poor Brâhmaṇ proceeded to the palace and presented the fruit to the king, at the same time relating how he had obtained it and its qualities. The king richly rewarded the Brâhmaṇ for his gift, and sent him away. Then he began to reflect thus:—“Here is a fruit which can bestow perpetual youth on the person who eats it. I should gain this great boon for myself alone, and what happiness could I expect under such circumstances unless shared by my friends and subjects? I shall therefore not eat this mango-fruit, but plant it carefully in my garden, and it will in time become a tree, which will bear much fruit having the same wonderful virtue, and my subjects shall, every one, eat of the fruit, and, with myself, be endowed with everlasting youth.”So, calling his gardener, the king gave him the fruit, and he planted it in the royal presence. In due course of time the fruit grew into a fine tree, and during the spring season it began to bud and blossom and bear fruit. The king, having fixed upon an auspicious day for cutting one of the mango-fruits, gave it to his domestic chaplain, who was ninety years old, in order that his youth should be renewed. But no sooner had the priest tasted it than he fell down dead. At this unexpected calamity the king was both astonished and deeply grieved. When the old priest’s wife heard of her husband’s sudden death she came and prayed the king to allow her to perform sati with him on the same funeral pyre, which increased the king’s sorrow; but he gave her the desired permission, and himself superintended all the ceremonies of the cremation. King Chakraditya then sent for the poor Brâhmaṇ, and demanded of him how he had dared to present a poisonous fruit to his king. The Brâhmaṇ replied:—“My lord, I brought up a young parrot in my house, in order to console me for having no son. That parrot brought me the fruit one day, and told me of its wonderful properties. Believing that the parrot spoke the truth, I presented it to your Majesty, never for a moment suspecting it to be poisonous.”The king listened to the poor Brâhmaṇ’s words, but thought that the poor priest’s death should be avenged. So he consulted his ministers who recommended, as a slight punishment, that the Brâhmaṇ should be deprived of his left eye. This was done accordingly, and, on his return home, when his wife saw his condition, she asked the reason of such mutilation.“My dear,” said she, “the parrot we have fostered so tenderly is the cause of this.”And they resolved to break the neck of the treacherous bird. But the parrot, having overheard their conversation, thus addressed them:—“My kind foster parents, everyone must be rewarded for the good actions or punished for the evil deeds of his previous life. I brought you the fruit with a good intention, but my sins in my former life have given it a different effect. Therefore I pray you to kill me and bury me with a little milk in a pit. And, after my funeral ceremony is over, I request you to undertake a pilgrimage to Banaras to expiate your own sins.”So the old Brâhmaṇ and his wife killed their pet parrot and buried it as directed, after which, overcome with grief, they set out on a pilgrimage to the Holy City.Meanwhile the king commanded his gardener to set guards over the poison-tree, and to allow no one to eat of its fruit; and all the inhabitants soon came to know that the king had a mango tree in his garden, the fruit of which was deadly poison. Now, there was in the city an old washerwoman, who had frequent quarrels with her daughter-in-law, and one day, being weary of life, she left the house, threatening to eat of the poison tree and die.The young parrot who was killed for having brought the poisonous mango-fruit was re-born as a green parrot, and was waiting for an opportunity to demonstrate the harmless nature of the tree; and when he saw the old woman approach with a determination to put an end to her life by eating of its fruit, he plucked one with his beak and dropped it down before her. The old woman rejoiced that fate sanctioned her death, and greedily ate the fruit, when lo! instead of dying she became young and blooming again. Those who had seen her leave the house a woman over sixty years of age were astonished on seeing her return as a handsome girl of sixteen and learning that the wonderful transformation was caused by the supposed poisonous mango-tree.The strange news soon reached the king, who, in order to test the tree still further, ordered another fruit of it to be brought and gave it to a goldsmith of more than ninety years of age, who had embezzled some gold which had been entrusted to him to make into ornaments for the ladies of the palace, and was on that account undergoing imprisonment. When he had eaten the fruit, he, in his turn, became a young man of sixteen. The king was now convinced that the fruit of the mango-tree, so far from being poisonous, had the power of converting decrepit age into lusty and perennial youth. But how had the old priest died by eating of it?It was by a mere accident. One day a huge serpent was sleeping on a branch of the mango-tree, and its head hung over one of the fruit; poison dropped from its mouth and fell on the rind of that fruit; the gardener, who had no knowledge of this, when asked to bring a fruit for the priest, happened to bring the one on which the poison had fallen, and the priest having eaten it, died.And now the king caused proclamation to be made throughout his kingdom that all who pleased might come and partake of the mango-fruit, and everyone ate of it and became young. But king Chakaraditya’s heart burnt within him at the remembrance of his ill-treatment of the poor Brâhmaṇ, who had returned with his wife from Banaras. So he sent for him, explained his mistake, and gave him a fruit to eat, which, having tasted, the aged Brâhmaṇ became young and his eye was also restored to him. But the greatest loss of all, that of the parrot who brought the fruit from beyond the seven oceans, remained irreparable.“Thus, my lord,” continued the old minister, Manuniti, “it behoves us not to act precipitately in this affair of Bodhaditya, which we must carefully sift before expressing our opinion as to the punishment he may deserve at your majesty’s hands.”Next: VI.The Poisoned Food
In the winter time, when deep snow lay on the ground, a poor boy was forced to go out on a sledge to fetch wood. When he had gathered it together, and packed it, he wished, as he was so frozen with cold, not to go home at once, but to light a fire and warm himself a little. So he scraped away the snow, and as he was thus clearing the ground, he found a tiny, gold key. Hereupon he thought that where the key was, the lock must be also, and dug in the ground and found an iron chest. “If the key does but fit it!” thought he; “no doubt there are precious things in that little box.” He searched, but no keyhole was there. At last he discovered one, but so small that it was hardly visible. He tried it, and the key fitted it exactly. Then he turned it once round, and now we must wait until he has quite unlocked it and opened the lid, and then we shall learn what wonderful things were lying in that box.
The children of Loki and the witch Angerboda were not as the children of men: they were formless as water, or air, or fire is formless, but it was given to each of them to take on the form that was most like to their own greed.Now the Dwellers in Asgard knew that these powers of evil had been born into the world and they thought it well that they should take on forms and appear before them in Asgard. So they sent one to Jarnvid, the Iron Wood, bidding Loki bring before the Gods the powers born of him and the witch Angerboda. So Loki came into Asgard once more. And his offspring took on forms and showed themselves to the Gods. The first, whose greed was destruction, showed himself as a fearful Wolf. Fenrir he was named. And the second, whose greed was slow destruction, showed itself as a Serpent. Jörmungand it was called. The third, whose greed was for withering of all life, took on a form also. When the Gods saw it they were affrighted. For this had the form of a woman, and one side of her was that of a living woman and the other side of her was that of a corpse. Fear ran through Asgard as this form was revealed and as the name that went with it, Hela, was uttered.Far out of sight of the Gods Hela was thrust. Odin took her and hurled her down to the deeps that are below the world. He cast her down to Niflheim, where she took to herself power over the nine regions. There, in the place that is lowest of all, Hela reigns. Her hall is Elvidnir; it is set round with high walls and it has barred gates; Precipice is the threshold of that hall; Hunger is the table within it; Care is the bed, and Burning Anguish is the hanging of the chamber.Thor laid hold upon Jörmungand. He flung the serpent into the ocean that engirdles the world. But in the depths of the ocean Jörmungand flourished. It grew and grew until it encircled the whole world. And men knew it as the Midgard Serpent.Fenrir the Wolf might not be seized upon by any of the Æsir. Fearfully he ranged through Asgard and they were only able to bring him to the outer courts by promising to give him all the food he was able to eat.The Æsir shrank from feeding Fenrir. But Tyr, the brave swordsman, was willing to bring food to the Wolf’s lair. Every day he brought him huge provision and fed him with the point of his sword. The Wolf grew and grew until he became monstrous and a terror in the minds of the Dwellers in Asgard.At last the Gods in council considered it and decided that Fenrir must be bound. The chain that they would bind him with was called Laeding. In their own smithy the Gods made it and its weight was greater than Thor’s hammer.Not by force could the Gods get the fetter upon Fenrir, so they sent Skirnir, the servant of Frey, to beguile the Wolf into letting it go upon him. Skirnir came to his lair and stood near him, and he was dwarfed by the Wolf’s monstrous size.“How great may thy strength be, Mighty One?” Skirnir asked. “Couldst thou break this chain easily? The Gods would try thee.”In scorn Fenrir looked down on the fetter Skirnir dragged. In scorn he stood still allowing Laeding to be placed upon him. Then, with an effort that was the least part of his strength, he stretched himself and broke the chain in two.The Gods were dismayed. But they took more iron, and with greater fires and mightier hammer blows they forged another fetter. Dromi, this one was called, and it was half again as strong as Laeding was. Skirnir the Venturesome brought it to the Wolf’s lair, and in scorn Fenrir let the mightier chain be placed upon him.He shook himself and the chain held. Then his eyes became fiery and he stretched himself with a growl and a snarl. Dromi broke across, and Fenrir stood looking balefully at Skirnir.The Gods saw that no chain they could forge would bind Fenrir and they fell more and more into fear of him. They took council again and they bethought them of the wonder-work the Dwarfs had made for them, the spear Gungnir, the ship Skidbladnir, the hammer Miölnir. Could the Dwarfs be got to make the fetter to bind Fenrir? If they would do it the Gods would add to their domain.Skirnir went down to Svartheim with the message from Asgard. The Dwarf Chief swelled with pride to think that it was left to them to make the fetter that would bind Fenrir.“We Dwarfs can make a fetter that will bind the Wolf,” he said. “Out of six things we will make it.”“What are these six things?” Skirnir asked.“The roots of stones, the breath of a fish, the beards of women, the noise made by the footfalls of cats, the sinews of bears, the spittle of a bird.”“I have never heard the noise made by a cat’s footfall, nor have I seen the roots of stones nor the beards of women. But use what things you will, O Helper of the Gods.”The Chief brought his six things together and the Dwarfs in their smithy worked for days and nights. They forged a fetter that was named Gleipnir. Smooth and soft as a silken string it was. Skirnir brought it to Asgard and put it into the hands of the Gods.Then a day came when the Gods said that once again they should try to put a fetter upon Fenrir. But if he was to be bound they would bind him far from Asgard. Lyngvi was an island that they often went to to make sport, and they spoke of going there. Fenrir growled that he would go with them. He came and he sported in his own terrible way. And then as if it were to make more sport, one of the Æsir shook out the smooth cord and showed it to Fenrir.“It is stronger than you might think, Mighty One,” they said. “Will you not let it go upon you that we may see you break it?”Fenrir out of his fiery eyes looked scorn upon them. “What fame would there be for me,” he said, “in breaking such a binding?”They showed him that none in their company could break it, slender as it was. “Thou only art able to break it, Mighty One,” they said.“The cord is slender, but there may be an enchantment in it,” Fenrir said.“Thou canst not break it, Fenrir, and we need not dread thee any more,” the Gods said.Then was the Wolf ravenous wroth, for he lived on the fear that he made in the minds of the Gods. “I am loth to have this binding upon me,” he said, “but if one of the Æsir will put his hand in my mouth as a pledge that I shall be freed of it, I will let ye put it on me.”The Gods looked wistfully on one another. It would be health to them all to have Fenrir bound, but who would lose his hand to have it done? One and then another of the Æsir stepped backward. But not Tyr, the brave swordsman. He stepped to Fenrir and laid his left hand before those tremendous jaws.“Not thy left hand—thy swordhand, O Tyr,” growled Fenrir, and Tyr put his swordhand into that terrible mouth.Then the cord Gleipnir was put upon Fenrir. With fiery eyes he watched the Gods bind him. When the binding was on him he stretched himself as before. He stretched himself to a monstrous size but the binding did not break off him. Then with fury he snapped his jaws upon the hand, and Tyr’s hand, the swordsman’s hand, was torn off.But Fenrir was bound. They fixed a mighty chain to the fetter, and they passed the chain through a hole they bored through a great rock. The monstrous Wolf made terrible efforts to break loose, but the rock and the chain and the fetter held. Then seeing him secured, and to avenge the loss of Tyr’s hand, the Gods took Tyr’s sword and drove it to the hilt through his underjaw. Horribly the Wolf howled. Mightily the foam flowed down from his jaws. That foam flowing made a river that is called Von—a river of fury that flowed on until Ragnarök came, the Twilight of the Gods.
Clad in a lion’s shaggy hide,An ass spread terror far and wide,And, though himself a coward brute,Put all the world to scampering rout:But, by a piece of evil luck,A portion of an ear outstuck,Which soon reveal’d the errorOf all the panic terror.Old Martin did his office quick.Surprised were all who did not know the trick,To see that Martin, at his will,Was driving lions to the mill!In France, the men are not a fewOf whom this fable proves too true;Whose valour chiefly doth resideIn coat they wear and horse they ride.
Once upon a time the King of the West had a son who, one night, dreamed a dream in which destiny betrothed him to the daughter of the King of the East. In the morning he awoke, and lo! the betrothal ring of the maiden was on his finger. On the very same night the same dream had come to the sleeping maiden, who on the morrow found on her finger the betrothal ring of the son of the King of the West. The lad at once started to find his betrothed, and after a long journey came to the city of the King of the East. He entered into the service of the King as a stranger, because he could not make himself known on account of the continuous strife existing between his father and the King of the East.He served the King seven years, during which he spent many happy hours with the young princess, his betrothed. At the expiration of the seven years he asked the hand of the princess as a remuneration for his services. The King, who was pleased with the lad, consented to give him his daughter in marriage. But the lad said he must take her to his country, where the wedding should take place. The King consented to that also, and let his daughter go, giving her a precious dower. On their way to the country of the King of the West they had to cross the sea, and so went on board a ship. The captain, being a wicked man, was charmed by the beauty of the maiden, and before the ship sailed he sent the lad ashore, bidding him to make further preparation, as the voyage would probably be long on account of contrary winds. As soon as the lad disappeared the captain weighed anchor and set sail. The lad came back only to find that the ship had sailed away with his love on board. There remained nothing for him to do but to lament and bewail his ill-luck. The maiden, who was in the cabin, did not discover the truth until it was too late. To her censure and upbraiding the vile captain answered with the proposal that she should become his wife.“I marry you! such an ungracious beast as you!” she exclaimed. “I would rather make my grave in the unfathomable sea.”But the captain was strong, and they were on the open sea where no help could be expected. Seeing that she could not resist force if the captain resorted to it, she resolved to use craft.“Well, then,” she answered finally, “I will be your wife, but not upon the sea. We will go home to your city and there be married lawfully.”The captain consented, and they soon reached the city.“Now, do you go first,” said the maiden, “and make preparation. I will wait here until you return.”Without suspicion the captain went ashore. As soon as he had disappeared the maiden bade the sailors weigh anchor, and she set sail without knowing where to go. At last she reached a certain city and cast anchor. The King of that city was a young lad of marriageable age, who was celebrating his wedding festival. Thirty-nine beautiful maidens were already elected; only one maiden was missing to complete the number forty from among whom he would choose his queen, while the others were to become hand-maids to the queen-elect. The King, hearing that a beautiful maiden had come to the haven, hastened thither, and seeing the princess, said to her:“Fair maiden, come and by your presence complete the number forty. You are the jewel of all the maidens, and will surely be my dear queen, while the rest shall become your handmaids.”“Very well, I will come,” answered the princess; “only send hither your thirty-nine maidens, that I may come to your palace with great pomp.”The youthful King consented and sent his maidens on board the ship. As soon as they came, the princess weighed anchor and set sail. She told the thirty-nine maidens who she was, and asked them to accompany her until destiny showed them what to do. The maidens were fascinated by her beauty and commanding appearance, and promised to follow her wherever she went, even to the end of the earth. After sailing for a long time, they came to an unknown shore where there was a castle. They cast anchor and all the party landed. Entering the castle, they found in it forty rooms with a bed in each, all richly decorated. The castle contained great wealth and abundant food. Satisfying their hunger, they went to bed, each maiden occupying a chamber. In the middle of the night the door of the castle suddenly opened, and there entered forty brigands, who were the owners of the stronghold, and who were just returning from a nightly foray, bringing with them great booty.“Aha!” exclaimed the brigands, seeing the maidens, “we hunted elsewhere, and lo! the antelopes have come to our own home.”“Enter, you brave heroes,” said the maidens; “we were waiting for you.”And they pretended to be very much pleased to see the brigands, who entered the rooms occupied by the maidens without suspicion. When they had laid down their arms and retired to rest, each maiden took the sword of the brigand who lay in her room and cut off his head. Thus the maidens were the owners of their wealth and property. In the morning the maidens rose, and putting on the clothes and arms of the robbers, appeared as youthful knights. They mounted the brigands’ horses, taking in their saddlebags gold, silver, jewels and other portable wealth. After a long journey they came to the city of the King of the West, and encamped in a meadow on the outskirts of the city. Soon they heard a herald crying that on the following day there should be elected a King of the realm, for inasmuch as the late sovereign had died and the heir-apparent was lost, it was necessary to choose a new ruler. On the following day all the people of the realm were gathered in the park adjoining the palace; the forty strangers also went to gratify their curiosity. Soon the nobles let loose the royal eagle, which flapped its wings and soared over the immense crowd, as though searching with its keen eyes for the true candidate for the throne. The multitude held their breath and stood stone-still. The royal bird once more flapped its wings, and descending from its towering flight, perched upon the head of the princess, who was disguised as a knight.“That is a mistake,” exclaimed the noblemen; “we must try it again.”Once more they let loose the royal eagle, but again it alighted upon the head of the same stranger. A third trial gave the same result. Thereupon all the multitude saluted the disguised princess, the elect of destiny, exclaiming with one voice: “Long live the King!” And with great pomp they took her and her companions to the royal palace, where the princess was anointed with holy oil, and crowned King over the realm, and her companions were made ministers.This new King proved to be the wisest and most just ruler that that country had ever enjoyed, and all the people of the realm loved and honored their sovereign with all their hearts. She built a splendid fountain in the midst of the city, on which she caused her image to be carved, so that every one who came to drink might see it. She put guards to watch the fountain day and night, and said to them:“Watch carefully, and when you perceive a stranger who, on seeing my image, shows signs of knowing me, bring him hither.”One day there came a stranger who, after drinking, raised his eyes and saw the image. He gazed for a long time, and sighed deeply. Immediately he was arrested and taken to the King, who, looking at him from behind a curtain, ordered him to be imprisoned. This was the captain of the ship. On another day there came another stranger, and he also sighed. It was the King, the owner of the thirty-nine maidens. He was kept in an apartment of the palace. And at last, disguised as a stranger, came the Prince, the betrothed of the ruling sovereign, and the heir-apparent to the crown. He also looked at the image and sighed, and was taken to the palace. Thereupon the princess summoned a parliament of all the nobility and the learned and wise men of the realm. She caused the three strangers to be brought before the assembly, and told her story from beginning to end.The captain was condemned to be hanged, and was executed forthwith. The lord of the thirty-nine maidens received them all, to whose number the princess added one of her most beautiful handmaids, thus making up the forty. The prince and the princess, the betrothed of destiny, celebrated their wedding with great joy and pomp for forty days and forty nights. The prince, as the true heir, was crowned King, his consort became Queen, and they reigned together.Thus they reached their desire. May all of us attain our desires and the happiness ordained to us by an all-wise Providence.Three apples fell from Heaven;—one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.
In a beautiful island that lies in the southern seas, where chains of gay orchids bind the trees together, and the days and nights are equally long and nearly equally hot, there once lived a family of seven sisters. Their father and mother were dead, and they had no brothers, so the eldest girl ruled over the rest, and they all did as she bade them. One sister had to clean the house, a second carried water from the spring in the forest, a third cooked their food, while to the youngest fell the hardest task of all, for she had to cut and bring home the wood which was to keep the fire continually burning. This was very hot and tiring work, and when she had fed the fire and heaped up in a corner the sticks that were to supply it till the next day, she often threw herself down under a tree, and went sound asleep.One morning, however, as she was staggering along with her bundle on her back, she thought that the river which flowed past their hut looked so cool and inviting that she determined to bathe in it, instead of taking her usual nap. Hastily piling up her load by the fire, and thrusting some sticks into the flame, she ran down to the river and jumped in. How delicious it was diving and swimming and floating in the dark forest, where the trees were so thick that you could hardly see the sun! But after a while she began to look about her, and her eyes fell on a little fish that seemed made out of a rainbow, so brilliant were the colours he flashed out.‘I should like him for a pet,’ thought the girl, and the next time the fish swam by, she put out her hand and caught him. Then she ran along the grassy path till she came to a cave in front of which a stream fell over some rocks into a basin. Here she put her little fish, whose name was Djulung-djulung, and promising to return soon and bring him some dinner, she went away.By the time she got home, the rice for their dinner was ready cooked, and the eldest sister gave the other six their portions in wooden bowls. But the youngest did not finish hers, and when no one was looking, stole off to the fountain in the forest where the little fish was swimming about.‘See! I have not forgotten you,’ she cried, and one by one she let the grains of rice fall into the water, where the fish gobbled them up greedily, for he had never tasted anything so nice.‘That is all for to-day,’ she said at last, ‘but I will come again to-morrow,’ and biding him good-bye she went down the path.Now the girl did not tell her sisters about the fish, but every day she saved half of her rice to give him, and called him softly in a little song she had made for herself. If she sometimes felt hungry, no one knew of it, and, indeed, she did not mind that much, when she saw how the fish enjoyed it. And the fish grew fat and big, but the girl grew thin and weak, and the loads of wood felt heavier every day, and at last her sisters noticed it.Then they took counsel together, and watched her to see what she did, and one of them followed her to the fountain where Djulung lived, and saw her give him all the rice she had saved from her breakfast. Hastening home the sister told the others what she had witnessed, and that a lovely fat fish might be had for the catching. So the eldest sister went and caught him, and he was boiled for supper, but the youngest sister was away in the woods, and did not know anything about it.Next morning she went as usual to the cave, and sang her little song, but no Djulung came to answer it; twice and thrice she sang, then threw herself on her knees by the edge, and peered into the dark water, but the trees cast such a deep shadow that her eyes could not pierce it.‘Djulung cannot be dead, or his body would be floating on the surface,’ she said to herself, and rising to her feet she set out homewards, feeling all of a sudden strangely tired.‘What is the matter with me?’ she thought, but somehow or other she managed to reach the hut, and threw herself down in a corner, where she slept so soundly that for days no one was able to wake her.At length, one morning early, a cock began to crow so loud that she could sleep no longer and as he continued to crow she seemed to understand what he was saying, and that he was telling her that Djulung was dead, killed and eaten by her sisters, and that his bones lay buried under the kitchen fire. Very softly she got up, and took up the large stone under the fire, and creeping out carried the bones to the cave by the fountain, where she dug a hole and buried them anew. And as she scooped out the hole with a stick she sang a song, bidding the bones grow till they became a tree–a tree that reached up so high into the heavens that its leaves would fall across the sea into another island, whose king would pick them up.As there was no Djulung to give her rice to, the girl soon became fat again, and as she was able to do her work as of old, her sisters did not trouble about her. They never guessed that when she went into the forest to gather her sticks, she never failed to pay a visit to the tree, which grew taller and more wonderful day by day. Never was such a tree seen before. Its trunk was of iron, its leaves were of silk, its flowers of gold, and its fruit of diamonds, and one evening, though the girl did not know it, a soft breeze took one of the leaves, and blew it across the sea to the feet of one of the king’s attendants.‘What a curious leaf! I have never beheld one like it before. I must show it to the king,’ he said, and when the king saw it he declared he would never rest until he had found the tree which bore it, even if he had to spend the rest of his life in visiting the islands that lay all round. Happily for him, he began with the island that was nearest, and here in the forest he suddenly saw standing before him the iron tree, its boughs covered with shining leaves like the one he carried about him.‘But what sort of a tree is it, and how did it get here?’ he asked of the attendants he had with him. No one could answer him, but as they were about to pass out of the forest a little boy went by, and the king stopped and inquired if there was anyone living in the neighbourhood whom he might question.‘Seven girls live in a hut down there,’ replied the boy, pointing with his finger to where the sun was setting.‘Then go and bring them here, and I will wait,’ said the king, and the boy ran off and told the sisters that a great chief, with strings of jewels round his neck, had sent for them.Pleased and excited the six elder sisters at once followed the boy, but the youngest, who was busy, and who did not care about strangers, stayed behind, to finish the work she was doing. The king welcomed the girls eagerly, and asked them all manner of questions about the tree, but as they had never even heard of its existence, they could tell him nothing. ‘And if we, who live close by the forest, do not know, you may be sure no one does,’ added the eldest, who was rather cross at finding this was all that the king wanted of them.‘But the boy told me there were seven of you, and there are only six here,’ said the king.‘Oh, the youngest is at home, but she is always half asleep, and is of no use except to cut wood for the fire,’ replied they in a breath.‘That may be, but perhaps she dreams,’ answered the king. ‘Anyway, I will speak to her also.’ Then he signed to one of his attendants, who followed the path that the boy had taken to the hut.Soon the man returned, with the girl walking behind him. And as soon as she reached the tree it bowed itself to the earth before her, and she stretched out her hand and picked some of its leaves and flowers and gave them to the king.‘The maiden who can work such wonders is fitted to be the wife of the greatest chief,’ he said, and so he married her, and took her with him across the sea to his own home, where they lived happily for ever after.
In China, as you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all the people around him are Chinamen too. It is many years since the story I am going to tell you happened, but that is all the more reason for telling it, lest it should be forgotten. The emperor’s palace was the most beautiful thing in the world; it was made entirely of the finest porcelain, very costly, but at the same time so fragile that it could only be touched with the very greatest care. There were the most extraordinary flowers to be seen in the garden; the most beautiful ones had little silver bells tied to them, which tinkled perpetually, so that one should not pass the flowers without looking at them. Every little detail in the garden had been most carefully thought out, and it was so big, that even the gardener himself did not know where it ended. If one went on walking, one came to beautiful woods with lofty trees and deep lakes. The wood extended to the sea, which was deep and blue, deep enough for large ships to sail up right under the branches of the trees. Among these trees lived a nightingale, which sang so deliciously, that even the poor fisherman, who had plenty of other things to do, lay still to listen to it, when he was out at night drawing in his nets. ‘Heavens, how beautiful it is!’ he said, but then he had to attend to his business and forgot it. The next night when he heard it again he would again exclaim, ‘Heavens, how beautiful it is!’Travellers came to the emperor’s capital, from every country in the world; they admired everything very much, especially the palace and the gardens, but when they heard the nightingale they all said, ‘This is better than anything!’When they got home they described it, and the learned ones wrote many books about the town, the palace and the garden; but nobody forgot the nightingale, it was always put above everything else. Those among them who were poets wrote the most beautiful poems, all about the nightingale in the woods by the deep blue sea. These books went all over the world, and in course of time some of them reached the emperor. He sat in his golden chair reading and reading, and nodding his head, well pleased to hear such beautiful descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden. ‘But the nightingale is the best of all,’ he read.‘What is this?’ said the emperor. ‘The nightingale? Why, I know nothing about it. Is there such a bird in my kingdom, and in my own garden into the bargain, and I have never heard of it? Imagine my having to discover this from a book?’Then he called his gentleman-in-waiting, who was so grand that when any one of a lower rank dared to speak to him, or to ask him a question, he would only answer ‘P,’ which means nothing at all.‘There is said to be a very wonderful bird called a nightingale here,’ said the emperor. ‘They say that it is better than anything else in all my great kingdom! Why have I never been told anything about it?’‘I have never heard it mentioned,’ said the gentleman-in-waiting. ‘It has never been presented at court.’‘I wish it to appear here this evening to sing to me,’ said the emperor. ‘The whole world knows what I am possessed of, and I know nothing about it!’‘I have never heard it mentioned before,’ said the gentleman-in-waiting. ‘I will seek it, and I will find it!’ But where was it to be found? The gentleman-in-waiting ran upstairs and downstairs and in and out of all the rooms and corridors. No one of all those he met had ever heard anything about the nightingale; so the gentleman-in-waiting ran back to the emperor, and said that it must be a myth, invented by the writers of the books. ‘Your imperial majesty must not believe everything that is written; books are often mere inventions, even if they do not belong to what we call the black art!’‘But the book in which I read it is sent to me by the powerful Emperor of Japan, so it can’t be untrue. I will hear this nightingale; I insist upon its being here to-night. I extend my most gracious protection to it, and if it is not forthcoming, I will have the whole court trampled upon after supper!’‘Tsing-pe!’ said the gentleman-in-waiting, and away he ran again, up and down all the stairs, in and out of all the rooms and corridors; half the court ran with him, for they none of them wished to be trampled on. There was much questioning about this nightingale, which was known to all the outside world, but to no one at court. At last they found a poor little maid in the kitchen. She said, ‘Oh heavens, the nightingale? I know it very well. Yes, indeed it can sing. Every evening I am allowed to take broken meat to my poor sick mother: she lives down by the shore. On my way back, when I am tired, I rest awhile in the wood, and then I hear the nightingale. Its song brings the tears into my eyes; I feel as if my mother were kissing me!’‘Little kitchen-maid,’ said the gentleman-in-waiting, ‘I will procure you a permanent position in the kitchen, and permission to see the emperor dining, if you will take us to the nightingale. It is commanded to appear at court to-night.’Then they all went out into the wood where the nightingale usually sang. Half the court was there. As they were going along at their best pace a cow began to bellow.‘Oh!’ said a young courtier, ‘there we have it. What wonderful power for such a little creature; I have certainly heard it before.’‘No, those are the cows bellowing; we are a long way yet from the place.’ Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh.‘Beautiful!’ said the Chinese chaplain, ‘it is just like the tinkling of church bells.’‘No, those are the frogs!’ said the little kitchen-maid. ‘But I think we shall soon hear it now!’Then the nightingale began to sing.‘There it is!’ said the little girl. ‘Listen, listen, there it sits!’ and she pointed to a little grey bird up among the branches.‘Is it possible?’ said the gentleman-in-waiting. ‘I should never have thought it was like that. How common it looks! Seeing so many grand people must have frightened all its colours away.’‘Little nightingale!’ called the kitchen-maid quite loud, ‘our gracious emperor wishes you to sing to him!’‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the nightingale, warbling away in the most delightful fashion.‘It is just like crystal bells,’ said the gentleman-in-waiting. ‘Look at its little throat, how active it is. It is extraordinary that we have never heard it before! I am sure it will be a great success at court!’‘Shall I sing again to the emperor?’ said the nightingale, who thought he was present.‘My precious little nightingale,’ said the gentleman-in-waiting, ‘I have the honour to command your attendance at a court festival to-night, where you will charm his gracious majesty the emperor with your fascinating singing.’‘It sounds best among the trees,’ said the nightingale, but it went with them willingly when it heard that the emperor wished it.The palace had been brightened up for the occasion. The walls and the floors, which were all of china, shone by the light of many thousand golden lamps. The most beautiful flowers, all of the tinkling kind, were arranged in the corridors; there was hurrying to and fro, and a great draught, but this was just what made the bells ring; one’s ears were full of the tinkling. In the middle of the large reception-room where the emperor sat a golden rod had been fixed, on which the nightingale was to perch. The whole court was assembled, and the little kitchen-maid had been permitted to stand behind the door, as she now had the actual title of cook. They were all dressed in their best; everybody’s eyes were turned towards the little grey bird at which the emperor was nodding. The nightingale sang delightfully, and the tears came into the emperor’s eyes, nay, they rolled down his cheeks; and then the nightingale sang more beautifully than ever, its notes touched all hearts. The emperor was charmed, and said the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round its neck. But the nightingale declined with thanks; it had already been sufficiently rewarded.‘I have seen tears in the eyes of the emperor; that is my richest reward. The tears of an emperor have a wonderful power! God knows I am sufficiently recompensed!’ and then it again burst into its sweet heavenly song.‘That is the most delightful coquetting I have ever seen!’ said the ladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the same gurgling when any one spoke to them, thinking so to equal the nightingale. Even the lackeys and the chambermaids announced that they were satisfied, and that is saying a great deal; they are always the most difficult people to please. Yes, indeed, the nightingale had made a sensation. It was to stay at court now, and to have its own cage, as well as liberty to walk out twice a day, and once in the night. It always had twelve footmen, with each one holding a ribbon which was tied round its leg. There was not much pleasure in an outing of that sort.The whole town talked about the marvellous bird, and if two people met, one said to the other ‘Night,’ and the other answered ‘Gale,’ and then they sighed, perfectly understanding each other. Eleven cheesemongers’ children were called after it, but they had not got a voice among them.One day a large parcel came for the emperor; outside was written the word ‘Nightingale.’‘Here we have another new book about this celebrated bird,’ said the emperor. But it was no book; it was a little work of art in a box, an artificial nightingale, exactly like the living one, but it was studded all over with diamonds, rubies and sapphires.When the bird was wound up it could sing one of the songs the real one sang, and it wagged its tail, which glittered with silver and gold. A ribbon was tied round its neck on which was written, ‘The Emperor of Japan’s nightingale is very poor compared to the Emperor of China’s.’Everybody said, ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ And the person who brought the artificial bird immediately received the title of Imperial Nightingale-Carrier in Chief.‘Now, they must sing together; what a duet that will be.’Then they had to sing together, but they did not get on very well, for the real nightingale sang in its own way, and the artificial one could only sing waltzes.‘There is no fault in that,’ said the music-master; ‘it is perfectly in time and correct in every way!’Then the artificial bird had to sing alone. It was just as great a success as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at; it glittered like bracelets and breast-pins.It sang the same tune three and thirty times over, and yet it was not tired; people would willingly have heard it from the beginning again, but the emperor said that the real one must have a turn now—but where was it? No one had noticed that it had flown out of the open window, back to its own green woods.‘But what is the meaning of this?’ said the emperor.All the courtiers railed at it, and said it was a most ungrateful bird.‘We have got the best bird though,’ said they, and then the artificial bird had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth time that they heard the same tune, but they did not know it thoroughly even yet, because it was so difficult.The music-master praised the bird tremendously, and insisted that it was much better than the real nightingale, not only as regarded the outside with all the diamonds, but the inside too.‘Because you see, my ladies and gentlemen, and the emperor before all, in the real nightingale you never know what you will hear, but in the artificial one everything is decided beforehand! So it is, and so it must remain, it can’t be otherwise. You can account for things, you can open it and show the human ingenuity in arranging the waltzes, how they go, and how one note follows upon another!’‘Those are exactly my opinions,’ they all said, and the music-master got leave to show the bird to the public next Sunday. They were also to hear it sing, said the emperor. So they heard it, and all became as enthusiastic over it as if they had drunk themselves merry on tea, because that is a thoroughly Chinese habit.Then they all said ‘Oh,’ and stuck their forefingers in the air and nodded their heads; but the poor fishermen who had heard the real nightingale said, ‘It sounds very nice, and it is very like the real one, but there is something wanting, we don’t know what.’ The real nightingale was banished from the kingdom.The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion, close to the emperor’s bed: all the presents it had received of gold and precious jewels were scattered round it. Its title had risen to be ‘Chief Imperial Singer of the Bed-Chamber,’ in rank number one, on the left side; for the emperor reckoned that side the important one, where the heart was seated. And even an emperor’s heart is on the left side. The music-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the artificial bird; the treatise was very long and written in all the most difficult Chinese characters. Everybody said they had read and understood it, for otherwise they would have been reckoned stupid, and then their bodies would have been trampled upon.Things went on in this way for a whole year. The emperor, the court, and all the other Chinamen knew every little gurgle in the song of the artificial bird by heart; but they liked it all the better for this, and they could all join in the song themselves. Even the street boys sang ‘zizizi’ and ‘cluck, cluck, cluck,’ and the emperor sang it too.But one evening when the bird was singing its best, and the emperor was lying in bed listening to it, something gave way inside the bird with a ‘whizz.’ Then a spring burst, ‘whirr’ went all the wheels, and the music stopped. The emperor jumped out of bed and sent for his private physicians, but what good could they do? Then they sent for the watchmaker, and after a good deal of talk and examination he got the works to go again somehow; but he said it would have to be saved as much as possible, because it was so worn out, and he could not renew the works so as to be sure of the tune. This was a great blow! They only dared to let the artificial bird sing once a year, and hardly that; but then the music-master made a little speech, using all the most difficult words. He said it was just as good as ever, and his saying it made it so.Five years now passed, and then a great grief came upon the nation, for they were all very fond of their emperor, and he was ill and could not live, it was said. A new emperor was already chosen, and people stood about in the street, and asked the gentleman-in-waiting how their emperor was going on.‘P,’ answered he, shaking his head.The emperor lay pale and cold in his gorgeous bed, the courtiers thought he was dead, and they all went off to pay their respects to their new emperor. The lackeys ran off to talk matters over, and the chambermaids gave a great coffee-party. Cloth had been laid down in all the rooms and corridors so as to deaden the sound of footsteps, so it was very, very quiet. But the emperor was not dead yet. He lay stiff and pale in the gorgeous bed with its velvet hangings and heavy golden tassels. There was an open window high above him, and the moon streamed in upon the emperor, and the artificial bird beside him.The poor emperor could hardly breathe, he seemed to have a weight on his chest, he opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Death sitting upon his chest, wearing his golden crown. In one hand he held the emperor’s golden sword, and in the other his imperial banner. Round about, from among the folds of the velvet hangings peered many curious faces: some were hideous, others gentle and pleasant. They were all the emperor’s good and bad deeds, which now looked him in the face when Death was weighing him down.‘Do you remember that?’ whispered one after the other; ‘Do you remember this?’ and they told him so many things that the perspiration poured down his face.‘I never knew that,’ said the emperor. ‘Music, music, sound the great Chinese drums!’ he cried, ‘that I may not hear what they are saying.’ But they went on and on, and Death sat nodding his head, just like a Chinaman, at everything that was said.‘Music, music!’ shrieked the emperor. ‘You precious little golden bird, sing, sing! I have loaded you with precious stones, and even hung my own golden slipper round your neck; sing, I tell you, sing!’But the bird stood silent; there was nobody to wind it up, so of course it could not go. Death continued to fix the great empty sockets of his eyes upon him, and all was silent, so terribly silent.Suddenly, close to the window, there was a burst of lovely song; it was the living nightingale, perched on a branch outside. It had heard of the emperor’s need, and had come to bring comfort and hope to him. As it sang the faces round became fainter and fainter, and the blood coursed with fresh vigour in the emperor’s veins and through his feeble limbs. Even Death himself listened to the song and said, ‘Go on, little nightingale, go on!’‘Yes, if you give me the gorgeous golden sword; yes, if you give me the imperial banner; yes, if you give me the emperor’s crown.’And Death gave back each of these treasures for a song, and the nightingale went on singing. It sang about the quiet churchyard, when the roses bloom, where the elder flower scents the air, and where the fresh grass is ever moistened anew by the tears of the mourner. This song brought to Death a longing for his own garden, and, like a cold grey mist, he passed out of the window.‘Thanks, thanks!’ said the emperor; ‘you heavenly little bird, I know you! I banished you from my kingdom, and yet you have charmed the evil visions away from my bed by your song, and even Death away from my heart! How can I ever repay you?’‘You have rewarded me,’ said the nightingale. ‘I brought the tears to your eyes, the very first time I ever sang to you, and I shall never forget it! Those are the jewels which gladden the heart of a singer;—but sleep now, and wake up fresh and strong! I will sing to you!’Then it sang again, and the emperor fell into a sweet refreshing sleep. The sun shone in at his window, when he woke refreshed and well; none of his attendants had yet come back to him, for they thought he was dead, but the nightingale still sat there singing.‘You must always stay with me!’ said the emperor. ‘You shall only sing when you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces!’‘Don’t do that!’ said the nightingale, ‘it did all the good it could! keep it as you have always done! I can’t build my nest and live in this palace, but let me come whenever I like, then I will sit on the branch in the evening, and sing to you. I will sing to cheer you and to make you thoughtful too; I will sing to you of the happy ones, and of those that suffer too. I will sing about the good and the evil, which are kept hidden from you. The little singing bird flies far and wide, to the poor fisherman, and the peasant’s home, to numbers who are far from you and your court. I love your heart more than your crown, and yet there is an odour of sanctity round the crown too!—I will come, and I will sing to you!—But you must promise me one thing!—‘Everything!’ said the emperor, who stood there in his imperial robes which he had just put on, and he held the sword heavy with gold upon his heart.‘One thing I ask you! Tell no one that you have a little bird who tells you everything; it will be better so!’Then the nightingale flew away. The attendants came in to see after their dead emperor, and there he stood, bidding them ‘Good morning!’
Woe to him who thinks to find a governess for his children by giving them a stepmother! He only brings into his house the cause of their ruin. There never yet was a stepmother who looked kindly on the children of another; or if by chance such a one were ever found, she would be regarded as a miracle, and be called a white crow. But beside all those of whom you may have heard, I will now tell you of another, to be added to the list of heartless stepmothers, whom you will consider well deserving the punishment she purchased for herself with ready money.There was once a good man named Jannuccio, who had two children, Nennillo and Nennella, whom he loved as much as his own life. But Death having, with the smooth file of Time, severed the prison-bars of his wife’s soul, he took to himself a cruel woman, who had no sooner set foot in his house than she began to ride the high horse, saying, “Am I come here indeed to look after other folk’s children? A pretty job I have undertaken, to have all this trouble and be for ever teased by a couple of squalling brats! Would that I had broken my neck ere I ever came to this place, to have bad food, worse drink, and get no sleep at night! Here’s a life to lead! Forsooth I came as a wife, and not as a servant; but I must find some means of getting rid of these creatures, or it will cost me my life: better to blush once than to grow pale a hundred times; so I’ve done with them, for I am resolved to send them away, or to leave the house myself for ever.”The poor husband, who had some affection for this woman, said to her, “Softly, wife! Don’t be angry, for sugar is dear; and to-morrow morning, before the cock crows, I will remove this annoyance in order to please you.” So the next morning, ere the Dawn had hung out the red counterpane at the window of the East to air it, Jannuccio took the children, one by each hand, and with a good basketful of things to eat upon his arm, he led them to a wood, where an army of poplars and beech-trees were holding the shades besieged. Then Jannuccio said, “My little children, stay here in this wood, and eat and drink merrily; but if you want anything, follow this line of ashes which I have been strewing as we came along; this will be a clue to lead you out of the labyrinth and bring you straight home.” Then giving them both a kiss, he returned weeping to his house.But at the hour when all creatures, summoned by the constables of Night, pay to Nature the tax of needful repose, the two children began to feel afraid at remaining in that lonesome place, where the waters of a river, which was thrashing the impertinent stones for obstructing its course, would have frightened even a hero. So they went slowly along the path of ashes, and it was already midnight ere they reached their home. When Pascozza, their stepmother, saw the children, she acted not like a woman, but a perfect fury; crying aloud, wringing her hands, stamping with her feet, snorting like a frightened horse, and exclaiming, “What fine piece of work is this? Is there no way of ridding the house of these creatures? Is it possible, husband, that you are determined to keep them here to plague my very life out? Go, take them out of my sight! I’ll not wait for the crowing of cocks and the cackling of hens; or else be assured that to-morrow morning I’ll go off to my parents’ house, for you do not deserve me. I have not brought you so many fine things, only to be made the slave of children who are not my own.”Poor Jannuccio, who saw that matters were growing rather too warm, immediately took the little ones and returned to the wood; where giving the children another basketful of food, he said to them, “You see, my dears, how this wife of mine—who is come to my house to be your ruin and a nail in my heart—hates you; therefore remain in this wood, where the trees, more compassionate, will give you shelter from the sun; where the river, more charitable, will give you drink without poison; and the earth, more kind, will give you a pillow of grass without danger. And when you want food, follow this little path of bran which I have made for you in a straight line, and you can come and seek what you require.” So saying, he turned away his face, not to let himself be seen to weep and dishearten the poor little creatures.When Nennillo and Nennella had eaten all that was in the basket, they wanted to return home; but alas! a jackass—the son of ill-luck—had eaten up all the bran that was strewn upon the ground; so they lost their way, and wandered about forlorn in the wood for several days, feeding on acorns and chestnuts which they found fallen on the ground. But as Heaven always extends its arm over the innocent, there came by chance a Prince to hunt in that wood. Then Nennillo, hearing the baying of the hounds, was so frightened that he crept into a hollow tree; and Nennella set off running at full speed, and ran until she came out of the wood, and found herself on the seashore. Now it happened that some pirates, who had landed there to get fuel, saw Nennella and carried her off; and their captain took her home with him where he and his wife, having just lost a little girl, took her as their daughter.Meantime Nennillo, who had hidden himself in the tree, was surrounded by the dogs, which made such a furious barking that the Prince sent to find out the cause; and when he discovered the pretty little boy, who was so young that he could not tell who were his father and mother, he ordered one of the huntsmen to set him upon his saddle and take him to the royal palace. Then he had him brought up with great care, and instructed in various arts, and among others, he had him taught that of a carver; so that, before three or four years had passed, Nennillo became so expert in his art that he could carve a joint to a hair.Now about this time it was discovered that the captain of the ship who had taken Nennella to his house was a sea-robber, and the people wished to take him prisoner; but getting timely notice from the clerks in the law-courts, who were his friends, and whom he kept in his pay, he fled with all his family. It was decreed, however, perhaps by the judgment of Heaven, that he who had committed his crimes upon the sea, upon the sea should suffer the punishment of them; for having embarked in a small boat, no sooner was he upon the open sea than there came such a storm of wind and tumult of the waves, that the boat was upset and all were drowned—all except Nennella, who having had no share in the corsair’s robberies, like his wife and children, escaped the danger; for just then a large enchanted fish, which was swimming about the boat, opened its huge throat and swallowed her down.The little girl now thought to herself that her days were surely at an end, when suddenly she found a thing to amaze her inside the fish,—beautiful fields and fine gardens, and a splendid mansion, with all that heart could desire, in which she lived like a Princess. Then she was carried quickly by the fish to a rock, where it chanced that the Prince had come to escape the burning heat of a summer, and to enjoy the cool sea-breezes. And whilst a great banquet was preparing, Nennillo had stepped out upon a balcony of the palace on the rock to sharpen some knives, priding himself greatly on acquiring honour from his office. When Nennella saw him through the fish’s throat, she cried aloud,“Brother, brother, your task is done,The tables are laid out every one;But here in the fish I must sit and sigh,O brother, without you I soon shall die.”Nennillo at first paid no attention to the voice, but the Prince, who was standing on another balcony and had also heard it, turned in the direction whence the sound came, and saw the fish. And when he again heard the same words, he was beside himself with amazement, and ordered a number of servants to try whether by any means they could ensnare the fish and draw it to land. At last, hearing the words “Brother, brother!” continually repeated, he asked all his servants, one by one, whether any of them had lost a sister. And Nennillo replied, that he recollected, as a dream, having had a sister when the Prince found him in the wood, but that he had never since heard any tidings of her. Then the Prince told him to go nearer to the fish, and see what was the matter, for perhaps this adventure might concern him. As soon as Nennillo approached the fish, it raised up its head upon the rock, and opening its throat six palms wide, Nennella stepped out, so beautiful that she looked just like a nymph in some interlude, come forth from that animal at the incantation of a magician. And when the Prince asked her how it had all happened, she told him a part of her sad story, and the hatred of their stepmother; but not being able to recollect the name of their father nor of their home, the Prince caused a proclamation to be issued, commanding that whoever had lost two children, named Nennillo and Nennella, in a wood, should come to the royal palace, and he would there receive joyful news of them.Jannuccio, who had all this time passed a sad and disconsolate life, believing that his children had been devoured by wolves, now hastened with the greatest joy to seek the Prince, and told him that he had lost the children. And when he had related the story, how he had been compelled to take them to the wood, the Prince gave him a good scolding, calling him a blockhead for allowing a woman to put her heel upon his neck till he was brought to send away two such jewels as his children. But after he had broken Jannuccio’s head with these words, he applied to it the plaster of consolation, showing him the children, whom the father embraced and kissed for half an hour without being satisfied. Then the Prince made him pull off his jacket, and had him dressed like a lord; and sending for Jannuccio’s wife, he showed her those two golden pippins, asked her what that person would deserve who should do them any harm, and even endanger their lives. And she replied, “For my part, I would put her into a closed cask, and send her rolling down a mountain.”“So it shall be done!” said the Prince. “The goat has butted at herself. Quick now! you have passed the sentence, and you must suffer it, for having borne these beautiful stepchildren such malice.” So he gave orders that the sentence should be instantly executed. Then choosing a very rich lord among his vassals, he gave him Nennella to wife, and the daughter of another great lord to Nennillo; allowing them enough to live upon, with their father, so that they wanted for nothing in the world. But the stepmother, shut into the cask and shut out from life, kept on crying through the bunghole as long as she had breath—“To him who mischief seeks, shall mischief fall;There comes an hour that recompenses all.”
There was once a poor woman who had two children. The youngest had to go every day into the forest to fetch wood. Once when she had gone a long way to seek it, a little child, who was quite strong, came and helped her industriously to pick up the wood and carry it home, and then before a moment had passed, the strange child disappeared. The child told her mother this, but at first she would not believe it. At length she brought a rose home, and told her mother that the beautiful child had given her this rose, and had told her that when it was in full bloom, he would return. The mother put the rose in water. One morning her child could not get out of bed, the mother went to the bed and found her dead, but she lay looking very happy. On the same morning, the rose was in full bloom.
An Eagle, swooping down on powerful wings, seized a lamb in her talons and made off with it to her nest. A Jackdaw saw the deed, and his silly head was filled with the idea that he was big and strong enough to do as the Eagle had done. So with much rustling of feathers and a fierce air, he came down swiftly on the back of a large Ram. But when he tried to rise again he found that he could not get away, for his claws were tangled in the wool. And so far was he from carrying away the Ram, that the Ram hardly noticed he was there.The Shepherd saw the fluttering Jackdaw and at once guessed what had happened. Running up, he caught the bird and clipped its wings. That evening he gave the Jackdaw to his children.“What a funny bird this is!” they said laughing, “what do you call it, father?”“That is a Jackdaw, my children. But if you should ask him, he would say he is an Eagle.”Do not let your vanity make you overestimate your powers.
Once upon a time there were two king’s daughters lived in a bower near the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie. And Sir William came wooing the eldest and won her love and plighted troth with glove and with ring. But after a time he looked upon the youngest, with her cherry cheeks and golden hair, and his love grew towards her till he cared no longer for the eldest one. So she hated her sister for taking away Sir William’s love, and day by day her hate grew upon her, and she plotted and she planned how to get rid of her.So one fine morning, fair and clear, she said to her sister, “Let us go and see our father’s boats come in at the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie.” So they went there hand in hand. And when they got to the river’s bank the youngest got upon a stone to watch for the coming of the boats. And her sister, coming behind her, caught her round the waist and dashed her into the rushing mill-stream of Binnorie.“O sister, sister, reach me your hand!” she cried, as she floated away, “and you shall have half of all I’ve got or shall get.”“No, sister, I’ll reach you no hand of mine, for I am the heir to all your land. Shame on me if I touch the hand that has come ‘twixt me and my own heart’s love.”“O sister, O sister, then reach me your glove!” she cried, as she floated further away, “and you shall have your William again.”“Sink on,” cried the cruel princess, “no hand or glove of mine you’ll touch. Sweet William will be all mine when you are sunk beneath the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie.” And she turned and went home to the king’s castle.And the princess floated down the mill-stream, sometimes swimming and sometimes sinking, till she came near the mill. Now the miller’s daughter was cooking that day, and needed water for her cooking. And as she went to draw it from the stream, she saw something floating towards the mill-dam, and she called out, “Father! father! draw your dam. There’s something white—a merry maid or a milk-white swan— coming down the stream.” So the miller hastened to the dam and stopped the heavy cruel mill-wheels. And then they took out the princess and laid her on the bank.Fair and beautiful she looked as she lay there. In her golden hair were pearls and precious stones; you could not see her waist for her golden girdle; and the golden fringe of her white dress came down over her lily feet. But she was drowned, drowned!And as she lay there in her beauty a famous harper passed by the mill- dam of Binnorie, and saw her sweet pale face. And though he travelled on far away he never forgot that face, and after many days he came back to the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie. But then all he could find of her where they had put her to rest were her bones and her golden hair. So he made a harp out of her breast-bone and her hair, and travelled on up the hill from the mill-dam of Binnorie, till he came to the castle of the king her father.That night they were all gathered in the castle hall to hear the great harper—king and queen, their daughter and son, Sir William and all their Court. And first the harper sang to his old harp, making them joy and be glad or sorrow and weep just as he liked. But while he sang he put the harp he had made that day on a stone in the hall. And presently it began to sing by itself, low and clear, and the harper stopped and all were hushed.And this was what the harp sung: “O yonder sits my father, the king,Binnorie, O Binnorie;And yonder sits my mother, the queen;By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie,“And yonder stands my brother Hugh,Binnorie, O Binnorie;And by him, my William, false and true;By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie.”Then they all wondered, and the harper told them how he had seen the princess lying drowned on the bank near the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie, and how he had afterwards made this harp out of her hair and breast-bone. Just then the harp began singing again, and this was what it sang out loud and clear: “And there sits my sister who drownèd meBy the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie.”And the harp snapped and broke, and never sang more.
I WAS awakened by the voice of the campcrier, and although it was yet dark I listened to his message.The camp was to move. All were to go to the mouth of the Maria’s — “The River That Scolds at the Other” — the Indians call this stream, that disturbs the waters of the Missouri with its swifter flood.On through the camp the crier rode, and behind him the lodge-fires glowed in answer to his call. The village was awake, and soon the thunder of hundreds of hoofs told me that the pony-bands were being driven into camp, where the faithful were being roped for the journey. Fires flickered in the now fading darkness, and down came the lodges as though wizard hands had touched them. Before the sun had come to light the world, we were on our way to “The River That Scolds at the Other.”Not a cloud was in the sky, and the wind was still. The sun came and touched the plains and hilltops with the light that makes all wild things glad. Here and there a jackrabbit scurried away, often followed by a pack of dogs, and sometimes, though not often, they were overtaken and devoured on the spot. Bands of graceful antelope bounded out of our way, stopping on a knoll to watch the strange procession with wondering eyes, and once we saw a dust-cloud raised by a moving herd of buffalo, in the distance.So the day wore on, the scene constantly changing as we travelled. Wolves and coyotes looked at us from almost every knoll and hilltop; and sage-hens sneaked to cover among the patches of sage-brush, scarcely ten feet away from our ponies. Toward sundown we reached a grove of cottonwoods near the mouth of the Maria’s, and in an incredibly short space of time the lodges took form. Soon, from out the tops of a hundred camps, smoke was curling just as though the lodges had been there always, and would forever remain.As soon as supper was over I found the children, and together we sought War Eagle’s lodge. He was in a happy mood and insisted upon smoking two pipes before commencing his story-telling. At last he said:“To-night I shall tell you why the Night-hawk wears fine clothes. My grandfather told me about it when I was young. I am sure you have seen the Night-hawk sailing over you, dipping and making that strange noise. Of course there is a reason for it.“Old-man was travelling one day in the springtime; but the weather was fine for that time of year. He stopped often and spoke to the bird-people and to the animal-people, for he was in good humor that day. He talked pleasantly with the trees, and his heart grew tender. That is, he had good thoughts; and of course they made him happy. Finally he felt tired and sat down to rest on a big, round stone — the kind of stone our white friend there calls a bowlder. Here he rested for a while, but the stone was cold, and he felt it through his robe; so he said:“‘Stone, you seem cold to-day. You may have my robe. I have hundreds of robes in my camp, and I don’t need this one at all.’ That was a lie he told about having so many robes. All he had was the one he wore.“He spread his robe over the stone, and then started down the hill, naked, for it was really a fine day. But storms hide in the mountains, and are never far away when it is springtime. Soon it began to snow — then the wind blew from the north with a good strength behind it. Old-man said:“‘Well, I guess I do need that robe myself, after all. That stone never did anything for me anyhow. Nobody is ever good to a stone. I’ll just go back and get my robe.’“Back he went and found the stone. Then he pulled the robe away, and wrapped it about himself. Ho! but that made the stone angry — Ho! Old-man started to run down the hill, and the stone ran after him. Ho! it was a funny race they made, over the grass, over smaller stones, and over logs that lay in the way, but Old-man managed to keep ahead until he stubbed his toe on a big sage-brush, and fell — swow!“‘Now I have you!’ cried the stone — ‘now I’ll kill you, too! Now I will teach you to give presents and then take them away,’ and the stone rolled right on top of Old-man, and sat on his back.“It was a big stone, you see, and Old-man couldn’t move it at all. He tried to throw off the stone but failed. He squirmed and twisted — no use — the stone held him fast. He called the stone some names that are not good; but that never helps any. At last he began to call:“‘Help! — Help! — Help!’ but nobody heard him except the Night-hawk, and he told the Old-man that he would help him all he could; so he flew away up in the air — so far that he looked like a black speck. Then he came down straight and struck that rock an awful blow — ‘swow!’ — and broke it in two pieces. Indeed he did. The blow was so great that it spoiled the Night-hawk’s bill, forever — made it queer in shape, and jammed his head, so that it is queer, too. But he broke the rock, and Old-man stood upon his feet.“‘Thank you, Brother Night-hawk, ‘ said Old-man, ‘now I will do something for you. I am going to make you different from other birds — make you so people will always notice you.’“You know that when you break a rock the powdered stone is white, like snow; and there is always some of the white powder whenever you break a rock, by pounding it. Well, Old-man took some of the fine powdered stone and shook it on the Night-hawk’s wings in spots and stripes — made the great white stripes you have seen on his wings, and told him that no other bird could have such marks on his clothes.“All the Night-hawk’s children dress the same way now; and they always will as long as there are Night-hawks. Of course their clothes make them proud; and that is why they keep at flying over people’s heads — soaring and dipping and turning all the time, to show off their pretty wings.“That is all for to-night. Muskrat, tell your father I would run Buffalo with him tomorrow — Ho!”
Somewhere, nowhere, in a certain kingdom, in a certain empire, time out of mind, and in no land of ours, dwelt a Tsar who was so proud, so very proud, that he feared neither God nor man. He listened to no good counsel from whithersoever it might come, but did only that which was good in his own eyes, and nobody durst put him right. And all his ministers and nobles grieved exceedingly, and all the people grieved likewise.One day this Tsar went to church; the priest was reading from Holy Scripture, and so he needs must listen. Now there were certain words there which pleased him not. “To say such words to me!” thought he, “words that I can never forget, though I grow grey-headed.” After service the Tsar went home, and bade them send the priest to him. The priest came. “How durst thou read such and such passages to me?” said the Tsar.––“They were written to be read,” replied the priest.––“Written, indeed! And wouldst thou then read everything that is written? Smear those places over with grease, and never dare to read them again, I say!”––“’Tis not I who have written those words, your Majesty,” said the priest; “nor is it for such as I to smear them over.”––“What! thou dost presume to teach me? I am the Tsar, and it is thy duty to obey me.”––“In all things will I obey thee, O Tsar, save only in sacred things. God is over them, men cannot alter them.”––“Not alter them!” roared the Tsar; “if I wish them altered, altered they must be. Strike me out those words instantly, I say, and never dare read them in church again. Dost hear?”––“I dare not,” said the priest, “I have no will in the matter.”––“I command thee, fellow!”––“I dare not, O Tsar!”––“Well,” said the Tsar, “I’ll give thee three days to think about it, and on the evening of the fourth day appear before me, and I’ll strike thy head from thy shoulders if thou dost not obey me!” Then the priest bowed low and went home.The third day was already drawing to a close, and the priest knew not what to do. It was no great terror to him to die for the faith, but what would become of his wife and children? He walked about, and wept, and wrung his hands: “Oh, woe is me! woe is me!” At last he lay down on his bed, but sleep he could not. Only toward dawn did he doze off, then he saw in a dream an angel standing at his head. “Fear nothing!” said the angel. “God hath sent me down on earth to protect thee!” So, early in the morning, the priest rose up full of joy and prayed gratefully to God.The Tsar also awoke early in the morning, and bawled to his huntsmen to gather together and go a-hunting with him in the forest.So away they went hunting in the forest, and it was not long before a stag leaped out of the thicket beneath the very eyes of the Tsar. Off after it went the Tsar; every moment the stag seemed to be faltering, and yet the Tsar could never quite come up with it. Hot with excitement, the Tsar spurred his horse on yet faster. “Gee up! gee up!” he cried; “now we’ve got him!” But here a stream crossed the road, and the stag plunged into the water. The Tsar was a good swimmer. “I’ve got him now, at any rate,” thought he. “A little longer, and I shall hold him by the horns.” So the Tsar took off his clothes, and into the water he plunged after the stag. But the stag swam across to the opposite bank, and the Tsar was extending his hand to seize him by the horns––when there was no longer any stag to be seen. It was the angel who had taken the form of a stag. The Tsar was amazed. He looked about him on every side, and wondered where the stag had gone. Then he saw some one on the other side of the river putting on his clothes, and presently the man mounted his horse and galloped away. The Tsar thought it was some evil-doer, but it was the self-same angel that had now put on the Tsar’s clothes and gone away to collect the huntsmen and take them home. As for the Tsar, he remained all naked and solitary in the forest.At last he looked about him and saw, far, far away, smoke rising above the forest, and something like a dark cloud standing in the clear sky. “Maybe,” thought he, “that is my hunting-pavilion.” So he went in the direction of the smoke, and came at last to a brick-kiln. The brick-burners came forth to meet him, and were amazed to see a naked man. “What is he doing here?” they thought. And they saw that his feet were lame and bruised, and his body covered with scratches. “Give me to drink,” said he, “and I would fain eat something also.” The brick-burners had pity on him; they gave him an old tattered garment to wear and a piece of black bread and a gherkin to eat. Never from the day of his birth had the Tsar had such a tasty meal. “And now speak, O man!” said they; “who art thou?”––“I’ll tell you who I am,” said he, when he had eaten his fill; “I am your Tsar. Lead me to my capital, and there I will reward you!”––“What, thou wretched rogue!” they cried, “thou dost presume to mock us, thou old ragamuffin, and magnify thyself into a Tsar! Thou reward us, indeed!” And they looked at him in amazement and scorn.––“Dare to laugh at me again,” said he, “and I’ll have your heads chopped off!” For he forgot himself, and thought he was at home.––“What! thou!” Then they fell upon him and beat him. They beat him and hauled him about most unmercifully, and then they drove him away, and off he went bellowing through the forest.He went on and on till at last he saw once more a smoke rising up out of the wood. Again he thought, “That is surely my hunting-pavilion,” and so he went up to it. And toward evening he came to another brick-kiln. There, too, they had pity upon and kindly entreated him. They gave him to eat and to drink. They also gave him ragged hose and a tattered shirt, for they were very poor people. They took him to be a runaway soldier, or some other poor man, but when he had eaten his fill and clothed himself, he said to them, “I am your Tsar!” They laughed at him, and again he began to talk roughly to the people. Then they fell upon him and thrashed him soundly, and drove him right away. And he wandered all by himself through the forest till it was night. Then he laid him down beneath a tree, and so he passed the night, and rising up very early, fared on his way straight before him.At last he came to a third brick-kiln, but he did not tell the brick-burners there that he was the Tsar. All he thought of now was how he might reach his capital. The people here, too, treated him kindly, and seeing that his feet were lame and bruised, they had compassion upon him, and gave him a pair of very, very old boots. And he asked them, “Do ye know by which way I can get to the capital?” They told him, but it was a long, long journey that would take the whole day.So he went the way they had told him, and he went on and on till he came to a little town, and there the roadside sentries stopped him. “Halt!” they cried. He halted. “Your passport!”––“I have none.”––“What! no passport? Then thou art a vagabond. Seize him!” they cried. So they seized him and put him in a dungeon. Shortly after they came to examine him, and asked him, “Whence art thou?”––“From such and such a capital,” said he. Then they ordered him to be put in irons and taken thither.So they took him back to that capital and put him in another dungeon. Then the custodians came round to examine the prisoners, and one said one thing and one said another, till at last it came to the turn of the Tsar.––“Who art thou, old man?” they asked. Then he told them the whole truth. “Once I was the Tsar,” said he, and he related all that had befallen him. Then they were much amazed, for he was not at all like a Tsar. For indeed he had been growing thin and haggard for a long time, and his beard was all long and tangled. And yet, for all that, he stood them out that he was the Tsar. So they made up their minds that he was crazy, and drove him away. “Why should we keep this fool for ever,” said they, “and waste the Tsar’s bread upon him?” So they let him go, and never did any man feel so wretched on God’s earth as did that wretched Tsar. Willingly would he have done any sort of work if he had only known how, but he had never been used to work, so he had to go along begging his bread, and could scarce beg enough to keep body and soul together. He lay at night at the first place that came to hand, sometimes in the tall grass of the steppes, sometimes beneath a fence. “That it should ever have come to this!” he sighed.But the angel who had made himself Tsar went home with the huntsmen. And no man knew that he was not a Tsar, but an angel. The same evening that priest came to him and said, “Do thy will, O Tsar, and strike off my head, for I cannot blot out one word of Holy Scripture.”––And the Tsar said to him, “Glory be to God, for now I know that there is at least one priest in my tsardom who stands firm for God’s Word. I’ll make thee the highest bishop in this realm.” The priest thanked him, bowed down to the earth, and departed marvelling. “What is this wonder?” thought he, “that the haughty Tsar should have become so just and gentle.”––But all men marvelled at the change that had come over the Tsar. He was now so mild and gracious, nor did he spend all his days in the forest, but went about inquiring of his people if any were wronged or injured by their neighbours, and if justice were done. He took count of all, and rebuked the unjust judges, and saw that every man had his rights. And the people now rejoiced as much as they had grieved heretofore, and justice was done in all the tribunals, and no bribes were taken.But the Tsar, the real Tsar, grew more and more wretched. Then, after three years, a ukase went forth that on such and such a day all the people were to come together to a great banquet given by the Tsar, all were to be there, both rich and poor, both high and lowly. And all the people came, and the unhappy Tsar came too. And so many long tables were set out in the Tsar’s courtyard that all the people praised God when they saw the glad sight. And they all sat down at table and ate and drank, and the Tsar himself and his courtiers distributed the meat and drink to the guests as much as they would, but to the unfortunate Tsar they gave a double portion of everything. And they all ate and drank their fill, and then the Tsar began to inquire of the people whether any had suffered wrong or had not had justice done him. And when the people began to disperse, the Tsar stood at the gate with a bag of money, and gave to every one a grivna (a coin), but to the unhappy Tsar he gave three.And after three years the Tsar gave another banquet, and again entertained all the people. And when he had given them both to eat and to drink as much as they would, he inquired of them what was being done in his tsardom, and again gave a grivna to each one of them; but to the unlucky Tsar he gave a double portion of meat and drink and three grivni.And again, after three years, he made yet another banquet, and proclaimed that all should come, both rich and poor, both earls and churls. And all the people came and ate and drank and bowed low before the Tsar and thanked him, and made ready to depart. The unlucky Tsar was also on the point of going, when the angel Tsar stopped him, and took him aside into the palace, and said to him, “Lo! God hath tried thee and chastised thy pride these ten years. But me He sent to teach thee that a Tsar must have regard to the complaints of his people. So thou wast made poor and a vagabond on the face of the earth that thou mightst pick up wisdom, if but a little. Look now, that thou doest good to thy people, and judgest righteous judgment, as from henceforth thou shalt be Tsar again, but I must fly back to God in heaven.”––And when he had said this he bade them wash and shave him (for his beard had grown right down to his girdle), and put upon him the raiment of a Tsar. And the angel said further, “Go now into the inner apartments. There the courtiers of the Tsar are sitting and making merry, and none will recognize in thee the vagabond old man. May God help thee always to do good!” And when the angel had said this he was no more to be seen, and only his clothes remained on the floor.Then the Tsar prayed gratefully to God, and went to the merry-making of his courtiers, and henceforth he ruled his people justly, as the angel had bidden him.
Jack lived with his parents in a remote part of Canada. He had no brothers or sisters. His parents were very poor, and their only possession was a goat that supplied them with milk. When the boy grew up, he decided to go out into the world and earn something to make his parents more comfortable in their old age. So one day he said, “I am going far away to look for work that you may be able to buy better food.” His parents did not want him to go, for he was their one source of happiness; but he would not listen to their pleading. With no money and something of a heavy heart he went on his way. It was summer in the land, and when he came out of the forest into the open country he saw people in the meadows making hay. Soon he came to a very large farm where a number of men were busy. He asked the man in charge for work. The man said, “How long do you want to work?” Jack answered, “A week.” The man hired him, and he went to work. He was a great worker, and in a week he had done as much as one of the other men could do in a year. The man was pleased with his work.At the end of the week Jack asked for his wages. The man gave him a little money in part payment, and an old hen for the other part. Jack was very cross. He said, “I don’t want a hen; I want money. Little good an old hen can do me!” But the man would not give him more money. He said, “The hen will lay eggs for you. She will lay two dozen eggs a day—an egg every hour.” So Jack with much disgust took the old hen, for he could do no better, and went home. His parents were glad to see him again, and to get the money he had earned; but they laughed at his old hen. But at the end of a day, when she had laid two dozen eggs, they were well pleased.In a week Jack said, “I am going away again to earn more money.” This time his parents were not troubled. They knew he could take care of himself. He said, “I will take the old hen with me and sell her for a great price.” So one morning he set out. He went through the forest with his old hen under his arm. He passed again by the meadows where men and women were making hay, but he did not ask for work. As he passed, the people looked at his hen and laughed, but he went along unheeding. He soon came to the town where the Seigneur lived, and he went to a house where he got food and lodging for himself and his old hen. He left the hen there and went to the Seigneur’s house. He told the Seigneur that he had a wonderful bird, and offered to sell her to him. “Go and bring me the bird,” said the Seigneur. But when Jack brought the old hen to him the Seigneur was very angry. “Little good an old hen like that will do me,” he said. But when Jack told him that she could lay twenty-four eggs a day, he said, “If that is true you may have your price. We will keep her for a day and test your word.” So they locked the old hen up for a day. At the end of that time she had laid twenty-four eggs, and the Seigneur wondered greatly. He said, “How much do you want for your hen?” Jack answered, “Whatever you wish to pay me.” The Seigneur gave him much money, and Jack, well pleased with his bargain, went home. His parents were glad to have him back, and to get the money he had got for the old hen. They began to live very comfortably.At the end of a few weeks Jack decided to go away again. He said, “Let me take the old goat and sell her. We can do without her milk.” He thought that since he had sold the hen so well, he could make a good sale of the goat. His parents agreed to his wishes. So one morning he tied ribbons and flowers around the old goat’s head and covered her with a many-coloured blanket, and set out, leading her behind him. He went along through the forest. It was harvest time, and he passed great farms where reapers were busy cutting yellow grain. But he did not ask for work. The people all looked with wonder at his goat as he passed, but he spoke to no one. Soon he came to the town where the Seigneur lived. He brought his goat to the Seigneur and offered to sell her to him, and the Seigneur gave him much money for her. Then she was placed in a yard with the Seigneur’s other animals. The yard was always guarded by two keepers.“So he bought a large quantity of food, put it in a basket, and carried it to the animal yard.” Illustration by George Sheringham. Published in Canadian Wonder Tales (1918), John Lane Company.Jack decided not to go home at once. He planned to steal the goat back and take her home. Then he would have the goat and much money too. So he bought a large quantity of food, put it in a basket, and carried it to the animal yard. When the two keepers saw him coming, they ran to him to send him away, for no one else was allowed at night near the yard. But Jack said, “The night is long and cool. The Seigneur sent me to you with this basket of food.” The keepers were well pleased with the food, and they sat down and had a good meal. They ate until they were full. Jack said, “If you want to sleep for an hour, I will watch. I like to sit in the moonlight.” The harvest moon was full, and the night was as bright as day. The two keepers thanked Jack for his kindness, and lay down on some straw, and were soon fast asleep because of their hearty meal. Jack waited until they were sound asleep. Then he took the old goat and walked quietly away, leading her behind him. The town was all asleep. There was not a sound anywhere. Soon he reached the open country without meeting anyone, and passed by rich harvest fields until he came to the forest. Then he followed the forest path in the bright moonlight, and reached his home before morning. His parents were glad to see him again so soon and to get his money. But when he told them that he had sold the old goat and stolen her back they were very angry, and his father said, “No good can come of it. The old goat will bring you to a sad end.”After a few days Jack decided to set out again to seek his fortune. He took the stolen goat with him. Before he was out of the forest he came upon a man camped in a green place under the trees. The man asked him who he was. Jack said, “I am a servant of the Seigneur. I take care of his beautiful goats. He gave me this one for myself.” The man liked the goat very much, and asked Jack what he would take for her. But Jack said he would not sell her. Then Jack asked him who he was. The man said, “I am a robber. If you will come with me, we will soon be very rich.” So Jack agreed to join him. They went along together for some days. But the robber always had his eye on the goat. One night as they slept on the bank of a stream, the robber killed Jack with a blow and threw his body into the river. He wanted his goat. Then he took the old goat and went on his way. Poor Jack’s stolen goat had brought him to a sad end.
The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of their only child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful, and her mother loved her dearly and was very kind to her. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got ready to set off on her journey to his country. The queen, her mother, packed up a great many costly things—jewels, gold and silver trinkets, fine dresses, and, in short, everything that became a royal bride. She gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her and give her into the bridegroom’s hands, and each had a horse for the journey. The princess’ horse was called Falada, and could speak.When the time came for them to set out, the aged mother went into the princess’s bedchamber, took a knife, and having cut her finger till it bled, let three drops of the blood fall upon a handkerchief, and gave it to the princess, saying—“Take care of it, dear child, for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road.”They all took a sorrowful leave of the princess, and she put the handkerchief into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her journey to her bridegroom’s kingdom.One day as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her maid—“Pray get down, and fetch me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to drink.”“Nay,” said the maid, “if you are thirsty, get off yourself and stoop down by the water and drink. I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer.”The princess got down, and knelt over the brook and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not bring out her cup; and she wept, and said—“Alas! what will become of me?”The three drops of blood answered her, and said—“Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it,Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”The princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her maid’s ill-behaviour, but got upon her horse again.They all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm and the sun so scorching that the bride began to feel very thirsty again; and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid’s rude speech, and said—“Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink in my cup.”But the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily than before—“Drink if you will, but I shall not be your waiting-maid.”Then the princess got off her horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and cried and said—“What will become of me?”And the drops of blood answered her again as before. As the princess leaned down to drink, the handkerchief on which was the blood fell from her bosom and floated away on the water, but the princess was so frightened that she did not notice it. Her maid, however, saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the charm, and she saw that the poor bride would be in her power now that she had lost the drops of blood. So when the bride had done drinking, and would have got upon Falada again, the maid said—“I will ride upon Falada, and you may have my horse instead;” so the princess was forced to give up her horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes and put on her maid’s shabby ones.At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told any one what had happened; but Falada saw it all, and marked it well.Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, while the real bride rode upon the other horse, and they went on in this way until they came at last to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was the one who was to be his wife. She was led upstairs to the royal chamber, but the true princess was told to stay in the court below.Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do, so he was amusing himself by sitting at his window looking at what was going on, and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty, and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her that was thus left standing in the court below.“I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the road,” replied she. “Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be idle.”The king could not for some time think of any work for her to do, but at last he said—“I have a lad who takes care of my geese, she may go and help him.”Now the name of this lad, whom the princess was to help in watching the king’s geese, was Conrad.The false bride said to the prince—“Dear husband, pray do me one piece of kindness.”“That I will,” said the prince.“Then tell one of your knackers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road.”In reality she was very much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak, and tell all that she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was killed. When the true princess heard of it she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada’s head over a large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pass every morning and evening, that there she might see him sometimes. The slaughterer said he would do as she wished, and he cut off the head, and nailed it up under the dark gate.Early the next morning, as the princess and Conrad went through the gate, she said sorrowfully—“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”The head answered—“Bride, bride, there thou goest!Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it,Sadly, sadly would she rue it.”Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. When they were come to a meadow she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her waving locks of hair, which were like pure gold; and when Conrad saw it he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out, but the princess cried—“Blow, breezes, blow!Let Conrad’s hat go!Blow, breezes, blow!Let him after it go!O’er hills, dales, and rocks,Away be it whirled,Till my golden locksAre all combed and curled.”Then there came a wind so strong that it blew off Conrad’s hat. Away it flew over the hills, and he was forced to turn and run after it, so that when he came back she had done combing and curling her hair, and had put it up again safely, and he could not get any of it. He was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her; but they watched the geese until it grew dark, and then drove them homewards.The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl looked up at Falada’s head, and cried—“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”It answered—“Bride, bride, there thou goest!Alas, alas! if thy mother knew it,Sadly, sadly would she rue it.”Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and began to comb out her hair as before, and Conrad ran up to her, and wanted to take hold of it. The princess repeated the words she had used the day before, when the wind came and blew away his hat, and off it flew a great way, over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it. When he returned, she had bound up her hair again, and all was safe. So they watched the geese until it grew dark.In the evening, after they came home, Conrad went to the old king and said—“I won’t have that strange girl to help me to keep the geese any longer.”“Why?” said the king.“Because instead of doing any good she does nothing but tease me all day long.”Then the king made him tell what had happened, and Conrad said—“When we go in the morning through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she cries and talks with the head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and the head answers her.”And Conrad went on telling the king what had happened in the meadow where the geese fed; how his hat was blown away, and how he was forced to run after it and leave his flock of geese to themselves. The old king told the boy to go out again the next day, and when morning came he placed himself behind the dark gate, and heard how the princess spoke to Falada, and how Falada answered. Then he went into the field and hid himself in a bush by the meadow’s side, and he soon saw with his own eyes how they drove the flock of geese, and how, after a little time, she let down her hair that glittered in the sun. Then he heard her call the wind, and soon there came a gust that carried away Conrad’s hat, and away he went after it, while the girl went on combing and curling her hair. All this the old king saw; so he went home without having been observed, and when the goose-girl came back in the evening, he called her aside and asked her why she did so. She burst into tears, and said—“That I must not tell you nor any man, or I shall lose my life.”The old king begged hard, but she would tell him nothing. Then he said—“If you will not tell me thy story, tell thy grief to the iron stove there,” and then he went away.Then the princess crept into the stove, and, weeping and lamenting, she poured forth her whole heart, saying—“I am alone in the whole world, though I am a king’s daughter. A treacherous waiting-maid has taken my place and compelled me to put off my royal dress, and even taken my place with my bridegroom, while I have to work as a goose-girl. If my mother knew it, it would break her heart.”The old king, however, was standing by the stove, listening to what the princess said, and overheard it all. He ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and gazed at her in wonder, she was so beautiful. Then he called his son, and told him that he had only a false bride, for that she was merely the waiting-maid, while the true bride stood by. The young prince rejoiced when he saw the princess’s beauty, and heard how meek and patient she had been, and the king ordered a great feast to be got ready for all his court. The bridegroom sat at the top of the table, with the false princess on one side and the true one on the other; but the waiting-maid did not recognise the princess, for her beauty was quite dazzling.When they had eaten and drunk, and were very merry, the old king said he would tell them a tale. So he began, and told all the story of the princess, as if it were a tale he had heard, and he asked the waiting-woman what she thought ought to be done to any one who behaved so badly as the servant in the story.“Nothing better,” said the false bride, “than that she should be thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that two white horses should be put to it, and should drag it from street to street till she were dead.”“Thou art she,” said the old king, “and as thou hast judged thyself, so it shall be done to thee.”Then the young prince was married to his true wife, and they reigned over the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives.
A sparrow and a crow once agreed to have khichrî for dinner. So the Sparrow brought rice, and the Crow brought lentils, and the Sparrow was cook, and when the khichrî was ready, the Crowstood by to claim his share.‘Who ever heard of any one sitting down to dinner so dirty as you are?’ quoth the Sparrow scornfully. ‘Your body is quite black, and your head looks as if it were covered with ashes. For goodness gracious sake, go and wash in the Pond first.’The Crow, though a little huffy at being called dirty, deemed it best to comply, for he knew what a determined little person the Sparrow was; so he went to the Pond, and said—  ‘Your name, sir, is Pond,But my name is Crow.Please give me some water,For if you do soI can wash beak and feetAnd the nice khichrî eat;Though I really don’t knowWhat the Sparrow can mean,For I’m sure, as Crows go,I’m remarkably clean!’But the Pond said, ‘Certainly I will give you water; but first you must go to the Deer, and beg him to lend you a horn. Then with it you can dig a nice little rill for the water to flow in clean and fresh.’So the Crow flew to the Deer, and said—  ‘Your name, sir, is Deer,But my name is Crow.Oh, give me a horn, please,For if you do soI can dig a clean rillFor the water to fill;Then I’ll wash beak and feetAnd the nice khichrî eat;Though I really don’t knowWhat the Sparrow can mean,For I’m sure, as Crows go,I’m remarkably clean!’But the Deer said, ‘Certainly I will give you a horn; but first you must go to the Cow, and ask her to give you some milk for me to drink. Then I shall grow fat, and not mind the pain of breaking my horn.’So the Crow flew off to the Cow, and said—  ‘Your name, ma’am, is Cow,But my name is Crow.Oh, give me some milk, please,For if you do soThe pain will be borne,Deer will give me his horn,And I’ll dig a clean rillFor the water to fill;Then I’ll wash beak and feetAnd the nice khichrî eat;Though I really don’t knowWhat the Sparrow can mean,For I’m sure, as Crows go,I’m remarkably clean!’But the Cow said, ‘Certainly I will give you milk, only first you must bring me some Grass; for who ever heard of a cow giving milk without grass?’So the Crow flew to some Grass, and said—  ‘Your name, sir, is Grass,But my name is Crow.Oh, give me some blades, please,For if you do soMadam Cow will give milkTo the Deer sleek as silk;The pain will be borne,He will give me his horn,And I’ll dig a clean rillFor the water to fill;Then I’ll wash beak and feetAnd the nice khichrî eat;Though I really don’t knowWhat the Sparrow can mean,For I’m sure, as Crows go,I’m remarkably clean!’But the Grass said, ‘Certainly I will give you Grass; but first you must go to the Blacksmith, and ask him to make you a sickle. Then you can cut me, for who ever heard of Grass cutting itself?’So the Crow went to the Blacksmith, and said—  ‘Your name, sir, is Smith,But my name is Crow.Please give me a sickle,For if you do soThe Grass I can mowAs food for the Cow;Madam Cow will give milkTo the Deer sleek as silk;The pain will be borne,He will give me his horn,And I’ll dig a clean rillFor the water to fill;Then I’ll wash beak and feetAnd the nice khichrî eat;Though I really don’t knowWhat the Sparrow can mean,For I’m sure, as Crows go,I’m remarkably clean!’‘With pleasure,’ said the Blacksmith, ‘if you will light the fire and blow the bellows.’So the Crow began to light the fire, and blow the bellows, but in so doing he fell right in—to—the—very—middle—of—the—fire, and was burnt!So that was the end of him, and the Sparrow ate all the khichrî.
There is nobody in the whole world who knows so many stories as Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely.In the evening while the children are seated at the tea table or in their little chairs, very softly he comes up the stairs, for he walks in his socks. He opens the doors without the slightest noise and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in the little ones’ eyes (just enough to prevent them from keeping them open), and so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them and blows softly upon their necks till their heads begin to droop.“Ole-Luk-Oie, the dream god.” Illustration by unknown artist, published in Han’s Andersen’s Fairy Tales by Mrs. H. B. Paull (1899), Frederick Warren & Company.But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them. He is very fond of children and only wants them to be quiet that he may tell them pretty stories, and he knows they never are quiet until they are in bed and asleep. Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed as soon as they are asleep. He is nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken stuff, it is impossible to say of what color, for it changes from green to red and from red to blue as he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella. One of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over good children, and then they dream the most charming stories. But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children, so that they sleep heavily and wake in the morning without having dreamed at all.Now we shall hear how Ole-Luk-Oie came every night during a whole week to a little boy named Hjalmar, and what it was that he told him. There were seven stories, as there are seven days in the week.“Now pay attention,” said Ole-Luk-Oie in the evening, when Hjalmar was in bed, “and I will decorate the room.”Immediately all the flowers in the flowerpots became large trees with long branches reaching to the ceiling and stretching along the walls, so that the whole room was like a greenhouse. All the branches were loaded with flowers, each flower as beautiful and as fragrant as a rose, and had any one tasted them he would have found them sweeter even than jam. The fruit glittered like gold, and there were cakes so full of plums that they were nearly bursting. It was incomparably beautiful.At the same time sounded dismal moans from the table drawer in which lay Hjalmar’s schoolbooks.“What can that be now?” said Ole-Luk-Oie, going to the table and pulling out the drawer.It was a slate, in such distress because of a wrong figure in a sum that it had almost broken itself to pieces. The pencil pulled and tugged at its string as if it were a little dog that wanted to help but could not.And then came a moan from Hjalmar’s copy book. Oh, it was quite terrible to hear! On each leaf stood a row of capital letters, every one having a small letter by its side. This formed a copy. Under these were other letters, which Hjalmar had written; they fancied they looked like the copy, but they were mistaken, for they were leaning on one side as if they intended to fall over the pencil lines.“See, this is the way you should hold yourselves,” said the copy. “Look here, you should slope thus, with a graceful curve.”“Oh, we are very willing to do so,” said Hjalmar’s letters, “but we cannot, we are so wretchedly made.”“You must be scratched out, then,” said Ole-Luk-Oie.“Oh, no!” they cried, and then they stood up so gracefully that it was quite a pleasure to look at them.“Now we must give up our stories, and exercise these letters,” said Ole-Luk-Oie. “One, two—one, two—” So he drilled them till they stood up gracefully and looked as beautiful as a copy could look. But after Ole-Luk-Oie was gone, and Hjalmar looked at them in the morning, they were as wretched and awkward as ever.As soon as Hjalmar was in bed Ole-Luk-Oie touched with his little magic wand all the furniture in the room, which immediately began to chatter. And each article talked only of itself.Over the chest of drawers hung a large picture in a gilt frame, representing a landscape, with fine old trees, flowers in the grass, and a broad stream which flowed through the wood past several castles far out into the wild ocean.Ole-Luk-Oie touched the picture with his magic wand, and immediately the birds began to sing, the branches of the trees rustled, and the clouds moved across the sky, casting their shadows on the landscape beneath them.Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame and placed his feet in the picture, on the high grass, and there he stood with the sun shining down upon him through the branches of the trees. He ran to the water and seated himself in a little boat which lay there, and which was painted red and white.The sails glittered like silver, and six swans, each with a golden circlet round its neck and a bright, blue star on its forehead, drew the boat past the green wood, where the trees talked of robbers and witches, and the flowers of beautiful little elves and fairies whose histories the butterflies had related to them.Brilliant fish with scales like silver and gold swam after the boat, sometimes making a spring and splashing the water round them; while birds, red and blue, small and great, flew after him in two long lines. The gnats danced round them, and the cockchafers cried “Buzz, buzz.” They all wanted to follow Hjalmar, and all had some story to tell him. It was a most delightful sail.Sometimes the forests were thick and dark, sometimes like a beautiful garden gay with sunshine and flowers; he passed great palaces of glass and of marble, and on the balconies stood princesses, whose faces were those of little girls whom Hjalmar knew well and had often played with. One of the little girls held out her hand, in which was a heart made of sugar, more beautiful than any confectioner ever sold. As Hjalmar sailed by he caught hold of one side of the sugar heart and held it fast, and the princess held fast too, so that it broke in two pieces. Hjalmar had one piece and the princess the other, but Hjalmar’s was the larger.At each castle stood little princes acting as sentinels. They presented arms and had golden swords and made it rain plums and tin soldiers, so that they must have been real princes.Hjalmar continued to sail, sometimes through woods, sometimes as it were through large halls, and then by large cities. At last he came to the town where his nurse lived, who had carried him in her arms when he was a very little boy and had always been kind to him. She nodded and beckoned to him and then sang the little verses she had herself composed and sent to him:How many, many hours I think on thee,My own dear Hjalmar, still my pride and joy!How have I hung delighted over thee,Kissing thy rosy cheeks, my darling boy!Thy first low accents it was mine to hear,To-day my farewell words to thee shall fly.Oh, may the Lord thy shield be ever nearAnd fit thee for a mansion in the sky!And all the birds sang the same tune, the flowers danced on their stems, and the old trees nodded as if Ole-Luk-Oie had been telling them stories, as well.How the rain did pour down! Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep, and when Ole-Luk-Oie opened the window the water flowed quite up to the window sill. It had the appearance of a large lake outside, and a beautiful ship lay close to the house.“Wilt thou sail with me to-night, little Hjalmar?” said Ole-Luk-Oie. “Then we shall see foreign countries, and thou shalt return here in the morning.”All in a moment there stood Hjalmar, in his best clothes, on the deck of the noble ship, and immediately the weather became fine.They sailed through the streets, round by the church, while on every side rolled the wide, great sea.They sailed till the land disappeared, and then they saw a flock of storks who had left their own country and were traveling to warmer climates. The storks flew one behind another and had already been a long, long time on the wing.One of them seemed so tired that his wings could scarcely carry him. He was soon left very far behind. At length he sank lower and lower, with outstretched wings, flapping them in vain, till his feet touched the rigging of the ship, and he slid from the sails to the deck and stood before them. Then a sailor boy caught him and put him in the henhouse with the fowls, the ducks, and the turkeys, while the poor stork stood quite bewildered among them.“Just look at that fellow,” said the chickens.Then the turkey cock puffed himself out as large as he could and inquired who he was, and the ducks waddled backwards, crying, “Quack, quack!”The stork told them all about warm Africa—of the pyramids and of the ostrich, which, like a wild horse, runs across the desert. But the ducks did not understand what he said, and quacked amongst themselves, “We are all of the same opinion; namely, that he is stupid.”“Yes, to be sure, he is stupid,” said the turkey cock, and gobbled.Then the stork remained quite silent and thought of his home in Africa.“Those are handsome thin legs of yours,” said the turkey cock. “What do they cost a yard?”“Quack, quack, quack,” grinned the ducks; but the stork pretended not to hear.“You may as well laugh,” said the turkey, “for that remark was rather witty, but perhaps it was above you. Ah, ah, is he not clever? He will be a great amusement to us while he remains here.” And then he gobbled, and the ducks quacked: “Gobble, gobble”; “Quack, quack!”What a terrible uproar they made while they were having such fun among themselves!Then Hjalmar went to the henhouse and, opening the door, called to the stork. He hopped out on the deck. He had rested himself now, and he looked happy and seemed as if he nodded to Hjalmar as if to thank him. Then he spread his wings and flew away to warmer countries, while the hens clucked, the ducks quacked, and the turkey cock’s head turned quite scarlet.“To-morrow you shall be made into soup,” said Hjalmar to the fowls; and then he awoke and found himself lying in his little bed.It was a wonderful journey which Ole-Luk-Oie had made him take this night.“What do you think I have here?” said the Dream Man. “Do not be frightened, and you shall see a little mouse.” And then he held out his hand, in which lay a lovely little creature. “It has come to invite you to a wedding. Two little mice are going to be married to-night. They live under the floor of your mother’s storeroom, and that must be a fine dwelling place.”“But how can I get through the little mouse-hole in the floor?” asked the little boy.“Leave me to manage that,” said the Dream Man. “I will soon make you small enough.” And then he touched the boy with his magic wand, upon which he became smaller and smaller until at last he was no longer than a little finger. “Now you can borrow the dress of your tin soldier. I think it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform when you go into company.”“Yes, certainly,” said the boy, and in a moment he was dressed as neatly as the neatest of all tin soldiers.“Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma’s thimble,” said the little mouse, “that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to the wedding?”“Will you really take so much trouble, young lady?” said he. And so in this way he rode to the mouse’s wedding.First they went under the floor, and then through a long passage which was scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to drive under, and the whole passage was lit up with the light of rotten wood.“Does it not smell delicious?” asked the mouse, as she drew him along. “The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon rind; nothing could be nicer.”Very soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood all the little lady mice, whispering and giggling as if they were making game of each other. To the left were the gentlemen mice, stroking their whiskers with their forepaws. And in the center of the hall could be seen the bridal pair, standing side by side in a hollow cheese rind and kissing each other while all eyes were upon them.More and more friends kept coming, till the mice were in danger of treading each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the doorway, and none could pass in or out.The room had been rubbed over with bacon rind like the passage, which was all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert a pea was passed around, on which a mouse had bitten the first letters of the names of the betrothed pair. This was something quite uncommon. All the mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and that they had been very agreeably entertained.After this Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in grand society, but he had been obliged to creep under a room and to make himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.“It is incredible how many old people there are who would be glad to have me at night,” said Ole-Luk-Oie, “especially those who have done something wrong.“‘Good old Ole,’ say they to me, ‘we cannot close our eyes, and we lie awake the whole night and see all our evil deeds sitting on our beds like little imps and sprinkling us with scalding water. Will you come and drive them away, that we may have a good night’s rest?’ and then they sigh so deeply and say: ‘We would gladly pay you for it. Good night, Ole-Luk, the money lies in the window.’ But I never do anything for gold.”“What shall we do to-night?” asked Hjalmar.“I do not know whether you would care to go to another wedding,” replied Ole-Luk-Oie, “although it is quite a different affair from the one we saw last night. Your sister’s large doll, that is dressed like a man and is called Herman, intends to marry the doll Bertha. It is also the dolls’ birthday, and they will receive many presents.”“Yes, I know that already,” said Hjalmar; “my sister always allows her dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they require new clothes. That has happened already a hundred times, I am quite sure.”“Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred-and-first wedding, and when that has taken place it must be the last; therefore this is to be extremely beautiful. Only look.”Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little cardboard dolls’ house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it were the tin soldiers, presenting arms.The bridal pair were seated on the floor, leaning against the leg of the table, looking very thoughtful and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie, dressed up in grandmother’s black gown, married them.As soon as the ceremony was concluded all the furniture in the room joined in singing a beautiful song which had been composed by the lead pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo:“Waft, gentle breeze, our kind farewellTo the tiny house where the bride folks dwell.With their skin of kid leather fitting so well,They are straight and upright as a tailor’s ell.Hurrah! hurrah! for beau and belle.Let echo repeat our kind farewell.”And now came the presents; but the bridal pair had nothing to eat, for love was to be their food.“Shall we go to a country house, or travel?” asked the bridegroom.They consulted the swallow, who had traveled so far, and the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.And the swallow talked to them of warm countries where the grapes hang in large clusters on the vines and the air is soft and mild, and about the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of.“But they have no red cabbage such as we have,” said the hen. “I was once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer. There was a large sand pit in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked. Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage. Oh, how nice it was! I cannot think of anything more delicious.”“But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another,” said the swallow; “and here we often have bad weather.”“Yes, but we are accustomed to it,” said the hen.“But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes.”“Cold weather is good for cabbages,” said the hen; “besides, we do have it warm here sometimes. Four years ago we had a summer that lasted more than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely breathe. And then in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we are free from robbers. He must be a blockhead, who does not consider our country the finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live here.” And then the hen wept very much and said: “I have also traveled. I once went twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant traveling at all.”“The hen is a sensible woman,” said the doll Bertha. “I don’t care for traveling over mountains, just to go up and come down again. No, let us go to the sand pit in front of the gate and then take a walk in the cabbage garden.”And so they settled it.“Am I to hear any more stories?” asked little Hjalmar, as soon as Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep.“We shall have no time this evening,” said he, spreading out his prettiest umbrella over the child. “Look at these Chinese people.” And then the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue trees and pointed bridges upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their heads.“We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning,” said Ole-Luk-Oie, “for it will be a holiday; it is Sunday. I must now go to the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have polished the bells so that they may sound sweetly; then I must go into the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust from the grass and the leaves; and the most difficult task of all which I have to do is to take down all the stars and brighten them up. I have to number them first before I put them in my apron, and also to number the places from which I take them, so that they may go back into the right holes, or else they would not remain and we should have a number of falling stars, for they would all tumble down one after another.”“Hark ye, Mr. Luk-Oie!” said an old portrait which hung on the wall of Hjalmar’s bedroom. “Do you know me? I am Hjalmar’s great-grandfather. I thank you for telling the boy stories, but you must not confuse his ideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the sky and polished; they are spheres like our earth, which is a good thing for them.”“Thank you, old great-grandfather,” said Ole-Luk-Oie. “I thank you. You may be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, and very old, but I am older still. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and Greeks named me the Dream God. I have visited the noblest houses,—yes, and I continue to do so,—still I know how to conduct myself both to high and low, and now you may tell the stories yourself”; and so Ole-Luk-Oie walked off, taking his umbrellas with him.“Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose,” grumbled the portrait. And it woke Hjalmar.“Good evening,” said Ole-Luk-Oie.Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed and turned his great-grandfather’s portrait to the wall so that it might not interrupt them as it had done yesterday. “Now,” said he, “you must tell me some stories about five green peas that lived in one pod, or of the chickseed that courted the chickweed, or of the Darning-needle who acted so proudly because she fancied herself an embroidery needle.”“You may have too much of a good thing,” said Ole-Luk-Oie. “You know that I like best to show you something, so I will show you my brother. He is also called Ole-Luk-Oie, but he never visits any one but once, and when he does come he takes him away on his horse and tells him stories as they ride along.“He knows only two stories. One of these is so wonderfully beautiful that no one in the world can imagine anything at all like it, but the other it would be impossible to describe.”Then Ole-Luk-Oie lifted Hjalmar up to the window. “There, now you can see my brother, the other Ole-Luk-Oie; he is also called Death. You see he is not so bad as they represent him in picture books. There he is a skeleton, but here his coat is embroidered with silver, and he wears the splendid uniform of a hussar, and a mantle of black velvet flies behind him over the horse. Look, how he gallops along.”Hjalmar saw that as this Ole-Luk-Oie rode on he lifted up old and young and carried them away on his horse. Some he seated in front of him and some behind, but always inquired first, “How stands the record book?”“Good,” they all answered.“Yes, but let me see for myself,” he replied, and they were obliged to give him the books. Then all those who had “Very good” or “Exceedingly good” came in front of the horse and heard the beautiful story, while those who had “Middling” or “Fairly good” in their books were obliged to sit behind. They cried and wanted to jump down from the horse, but they could not get free, for they seemed fastened to the seat.“Why, Death is a most splendid Luk-Oie,” said Hjalmar. “I am not in the least afraid of him.”“You need have no fear of him,” said Ole-Luk-Oie; “but take care and keep a good conduct book.”“Now I call that very instructive,” murmured the great-grandfather’s portrait. “It is useful sometimes to express an opinion.” So he was quite satisfied.These are some of the doings and sayings of Ole-Luk-Oie. I hope he may visit you himself this evening and relate some more.
It happened once upon a time that a certain Greek ship bound for Athens was wrecked off the coast close to Piraeus, the port of Athens. Had it not been for the Dolphins, who at that time were very friendly toward mankind and especially toward Athenians, all would have perished. But the Dolphins took the shipwrecked people on their backs and swam with them to shore.Now it was the custom among the Greeks to take their pet monkeys and dogs with them whenever they went on a voyage. So when one of the Dolphins saw a Monkey struggling in the water, he thought it was a man, and made the Monkey climb up on his back. Then off he swam with him toward the shore.The Monkey sat up, grave and dignified, on the Dolphin’s back.“You are a citizen of illustrious Athens, are you not?” asked the Dolphin politely.“Yes,” answered the Monkey, proudly. “My family is one of the noblest in the city.”“Indeed,” said the Dolphin. “Then of course you often visit Piraeus.”“Yes, yes,” replied the Monkey. “Indeed, I do. I am with him constantly. Piraeus is my very best friend.”This answer took the Dolphin by surprise, and, turning his head, he now saw what it was he was carrying. Without more ado, he dived and left the foolish Monkey to take care of himself, while he swam off in search of some human being to save.
There was once upon a time a king who was very rich in lands and money. When his wife died he was inconsolable, and for eight whole days he shut himself up in a little room, and knocked his head against the wall, so desperate was he. They feared lest he should kill himself, and they therefore put mattresses between the tapestry and the wall, so that however hard he might strike his head, he could do himself no harm. All his subjects planned amongst themselves to go and see him, and to say everything they could think of as likely to comfort him in his sorrow. Some of them made up grave and serious speeches; others again went with cheerful, even gay words on their tongues, but none of them made any impression on him. In fact he hardly heard what they said. At last there came before him a woman clad all in black crape, with veil and mantle and long mourning garments, who wept and sobbed so loud and so violently that he was filled with astonishment. She said that, unlike the others, she had come with the object of adding to, rather than of lessening, his grief; for what could be more natural than to sorrow for a good wife? As for her, she had had the best husband in the whole world, and it was her part now to weep for him while she had eyes in her head. Thereupon she redoubled her cries, and the king following her example, began to wail aloud.He gave her a better reception than he had done to the others, entertaining her with an account of the fine qualities of his dear dead lady, while she waxed eloquent on those of her beloved husband. They talked and talked till they had not a word more to say on the subject of their sorrows. When the cunning widow saw that there was nothing more to be said on the matter, she lifted her veil just a little, and it was some relief to the king in the midst of his distress to look on this poor lady afflicted like himself. Her large blue eyes, fringed with long black eyelashes, she rolled this way and that way, to make the most of their beauty; and then her cheeks were rosy too. The king looked at her very attentively. Gradually he spoke less of his wife; then he stopped speaking of her altogether. The widow still declared she would always lament her husband, but the king begged her not to sorrow for ever. In the end, to everybody’s astonishment, he married her; and her mourning garments were changed to gowns of green and rose colour. It often happens that you have but to know people’s weak points to win their hearts and do with them what you will.The king had only one daughter by his first marriage, and she was looked on as the eighth wonder of the world. They called her Florine, because she was like Flora, so fresh and young and beautiful was she. She did not care to be dressed very grandly, but liked rather robes of floating taffeta, with jewelled clasps, and garlands of flowers to adorn her lovely hair. When the king married again she was only fifteen years old.The new queen sent for her own daughter, who had been brought up in the house of her god-mother, Soussio the fairy, though she was none the more graceful or beautiful for that. Soussio had done what she could for her, but without success. Yet she loved her dearly none the less. They called the girl Truitonne,* for her face had as many red spots as a trout. Her black hair was so dirty and greasy that you could not touch it, and oil oozed out from her yellow skin. All the same the queen loved her to distraction, and would speak of nothing but of Truitonne’s charms. But as Florine was far more attractive, the queen was in despair. In all kinds of ways she tried to raise quarrels between her and the king, and not a day passed but she and Truitonne did Florine some bad turn. The princess was, however, good-tempered and intelligent, and endeavoured to take no notice of their bad behaviour.One day the king said to the queen that Florine and Truitonne were old enough to be married, and that the hand of one of them must be bestowed on the first prince who should come to the court. “I think,” said the queen “that my daughter should be thought of first of all, seeing that she is older than yours; and as she is far more amiable there can be no hesitation in agreeing to this.” The king did not like disputing, so he said he was quite willing, and the queen might do as she liked.Some little time after they heard that King Charming was going to pay them a visit. Never was there so splendid and so gallant a prince, and every thing in his mind and person answered to his name. When the queen heard of his coming she employed all the embroiderers, and all the dressmakers, and all the craftsmen, to make things for Truitonne. She begged the king to give Florine nothing new; and, by bribing her maids, she had all her dresses, and wreaths, and jewels taken away the very day that Charming arrived, so that when the princess wished to deck herself she could not find so much as a ribbon. Florine was well aware to whom she owed this bad turn. When she sent to buy stuffs the merchants told her the queen had forbidden them to sell her any. So she had nothing to put on but a dirty little frock; and so much ashamed of it was she that she sat down in a corner of the hall when King Charming came in.The queen received him with much ceremony, and presented her daughter to him, clad in the most splendid apparel, and uglier than usual in her grandeur. When the king turned away his eyes the queen would have liked to persuade her self that it was because Truitonne dazzled him too much, and that he feared the effect of her charms on him; so she always pushed her forward. He asked if there was not another princess called Florine. “Yes,” said Truitonne, pointing to her; “she is hiding over there, because she is not very nicely dressed.” Florine blushed, and looked at that moment so beautiful, so very, very beautiful, that King Charming was quite dazzled. Rising quickly, he made a deep bow to the princess, saying: “Madam, your incomparable beauty already adorns you too well for you to need any other aid “. “Your majesty,” she answered, “I must tell you I am little accustomed to wearing so poor a dress as this, and I should have liked better had you taken no notice of me.” “It would have been impossible,” cried Charming, “that so lovely a princess should have been anywhere near me and that I should have had eyes for anyone else.” “Ah,” said the queen, who was much annoyed, “what a waste of time is this Believe me, sire, Florine is vain enough already. She doesn’t need so many compliments paid to her.” King Charming understood at once the motives that made the queen speak in this way, but as he was not in a humour to restrain his feelings he let all his admiration for Florine be seen, and talked to her for three hours on end.The queen was in despair; and Truitonne was inconsolable at not being preferred to the princess. They complained loudly to the king, and forced him to Consent during King Charming’s stay to shut Florine up in a tower, where they would not see each other. So as soon as she had gone back to her room four men with masks carried her off to the top of the tower, and left her there in the utmost distress. She knew quite well she was only treated thus to prevent her from pleasing King Charming, whom she already liked very much and whom she would willing have accepted as a husband.As Charming was ignorant of the wrong they had done to the princess, he was waiting the hour when he would see her again with the greatest impatience. He spoke of her to those whom the king had ordered to be in attendance on him, but by the queen’s command they told him all the harm they could of her-that she was vain, and of an uncertain and violent temper, that she was a plague to her friends and her servants, that she was slovenly, and so avaricious that she preferred to be dressed like a little shepherdess rather than to buy rich stuffs with the money the king, her father, gave her. Charming writhed to hear all this, and he had much ado to restrain the anger that stirred within him. “No,” he said to himself, “it is not possible that heaven should have made so evil a soul to dwell in nature’s masterpiece. I own she was not suitably dressed when I saw her, but her evident shame shows she is not used to being in that condition, What! So they tell me she could be wicked with that charming look of modesty and gentleness! Such a thing could not possibly be it is easier for me to believe that the queen slanders her. She is not a step-mother for nothing, and Princess Truitonne is such an ugly creature that it would not be strange if she were jealous of the most perfect being in the world.”While he was thinking over all this, the courtiers who were with him saw quite well from his manner that he was not pleased at their speaking evil of Florine. There was one amongst them sharper than the others, and he, changing his tone and language in order to find out what the prince really felt, began to pay compliments to the princess. At this Charming woke up as from a pro found sleep, and took part in the conversation, his face showing perfectly the joy he felt. Love, how difficult it is to hide thee! Thou art everywhere visible, on a lover’s lips, in his eyes, in the sound of his voice. When we love, the signs of it appear in our every action, in our silence, our conversation, in our joy, in our sorrow.The queen, impatient to know if King Charming was really impressed, sent for those she had taken into her confidence, and she spent the rest of the night in questioning them. All they told her only served to confirm the opinion that the king was in love with Florine. But what shall I say of the melancholy condition of that poor princess, as she lay on the floor of the dungeon in that terrible tower into which the masked men had brought her?” It would be easier to bear,” she said, “if they had put me here before I had seen that king, who is so amiable. The recollection of him only makes my distress harder to bear, and I have no doubt that it is to hinder me from seeing him any more that the queen treats me so cruelly. Alas! whatever beauty heaven may have endowed me with will have to be paid for by my happiness!” Then she cried, and cried so bitterly, that her worst enemy would have been sorry for her had she seen her misery.So the night passed. The queen, who wished to attach King Charming to her by all the marks of attention possible, sent him costumes of a richness and magnificence nowhere else to be found, fashioned after the mode of the country, and also the Order of the Knights of Love, which she had made the king institute on their wedding-day. It was a golden heart enamelled in fire-colour. There were several arrows round it, and one that pierced it through, and the words: One alone wounds me. The queen had had the heart for Charming’s order cut out of a ruby as big as an ostrich’s egg. Each arrow ‘as made of a single diamond as long as your finger, and the chain from which it hung was made of pearls, the smallest of which weighed a pound. In short, since the beginning of the world, a like thing had never been seen. At sight of it the king was so astounded that for some minutes he could not speak. At the same time he was presented with a book, the leaves of which were of vellum, with wonderful miniatures. The cover was of gold, studded with precious stones, and it con tamed the statutes of the Order of the Knights of Love, written in very tender and very gallant style. They told the king that the princess whom he had seen begged him to be her knight, and that she sent him this present. On hearing this he flattered himself it might be from her whom he loved. “What! the fair Princess Florine!” cried he; “she remembers me in so charming and so generous a fashion.” “Your majesty,” they said, “you make a mistake in the name. It is from the lovely Truitonne we come.” “Then it is Truitonne who begs me to be her knight?” said the king, in a cold and serious manner. “I am sorry not to be able to accept this honour, but a sovereign is not sufficiently his own master to do everything he would like. I know the duties of a knight, and I would like to fulfil them all, but I prefer rather to decline the favours she offers me than to prove myself unworthy of them.” So saying, he put back the heart, the chain, and the book in the same basket, and returned all of them to the queen, who, as well as her daughter, was nearly mad with rage at the scornful Way in which the stranger king had received so especial a favour.As soon as he found opportunity he went to the apartment of the king and queen, hoping Florine would be there, and looking about everywhere to see her. Whenever anyone came into the room he turned his head abruptly towards the door, and seemed anxious and disappointed. The wicked queen knew well enough what was passing in his mind, but she did not let him see that she did, and spoke of nothing but pleasure-parties, receiving from him quite foolish answers in return. At last he asked where the Princess Florine was. “Your majesty,” said the queen, hotly, “the king, her father, has forbidden her to leave her own apartments till my daughter be married.” “And what reason can there be for keeping this fair lady a prisoner?” “I do not know,” said the queen; “and even if I did I might be excused from telling you.” The king was in a fury of passion, and cast black looks at Truitonne as he thought to himself it was on account of that little monster that they robbed him of the pleasure of seeing the princess. Then he left the queen abruptly, for her presence was more than he could bear.When he was again in his own room he told a young prince who had come with him, and whom he loved dearly, to give any bribe in the world to one of the attendants of the princess, so that he might speak with her a moment. The prince had no difficulty in finding some ladies-in-waiting who were willing to be taken into his confidence, and one of them assured him that every evening Florine would be at a little window overlooking the garden, where she could speak to him, provided he took great precautions to prevent its being known. “For,” she added, “the king and the queen are so severe that they would kill me if they discovered that I had favoured Charming’s suit.” The prince, de lighted at having thus far succeeded, promised all she wished, and ran to pay his respects to the king, and to tell him the hour appointed. But the faithless waiting-woman did not fail to go and warn the queen of what was going on, and to take her orders accordingly. The queen at once made up her mind to send her daughter to the little window. She gave her instructions what to do, and Truitonne remembered them every one, though she was naturally very stupid.The night was so dark that it would have been impossible for the king to see the trick that was being played him, even if he had been less confident than he was. So he drew near to the window with such transports of joy as cannot be described, and said to Truitonne all he would have said to Florine, to persuade her to believe what love he felt for her. Truitonne, making the best of the opportunity, told him she was the most unhappy girl in the world to have so cruel a step-mother, and that she would always have to suffer till her step-sister should get married. The king assured her that if she would have him for a husband he would be delighted to share with her his crown and his heart. So saying, he drew the ring from his finger, and putting it on Truitonne’s, he told her it was for an everlasting token of his faith, and that she had only to fix the time and they would set off without delay. Truitonne gave what answer she could to all his passionate speeches, but he noticed that there was very little in what she said. This would have grieved him had he not persuaded himself that the fear of being surprised by the queen was a check on her spirits. He only left her on condition that he might come back next night at the same hour, to which she consented with the utmost willingness. The queen was in great hopes after hearing of the success of this interview.Now the day of their escape being fixed, the king came to take the princess away in a flying chaise, drawn by winged frogs, which one of his friends, a wizard, had made him a present of. The night was very dark. Truitonne crept out of a little door with great mystery, and the king, who was waiting for her, received her in his arms and swore eternal faithfulness to her. But as he had no desire to go flying through the air in this chaise for ever so long without marrying the princess whom he loved, he asked her when she would like their wedding to take place. She told him that she had for god-mother a very celebrated fairy called Soussio, and that she wished to go and visit her at her castle. Although the king did not know the way, he had nothing to do but tell his big frogs to take them there, for they knew the chart of the whole world, and in no time they landed the king and Truitonne at Soussio’s dwelling.The castle was so brilliantly lighted that there the king would have found out his mistake had not the princess carefully covered herself with her veil. Having asked to see her god-mother she spoke to her in private, telling her how she had entrapped Charming, and begging Soussio to make her peace with him. “But, my daughter,” said the fairy, “that is no easy thing. He is much too fond of Florine for that, and I feel certain he will disappoint us.” Meanwhile the king awaited them in a hail, whose walls were of diamonds, so clear and transparent that through them he saw Soussio and Truitonne talking together. He thought he must be dreaming. “What,” he said, “have I been tricked? Have the demons brought hither that enemy of our happiness? Has she come to interfere with my marriage? My clear Florine is not to be seen. Perhaps her father has followed her.” All kinds of things suggested themselves to his mind, and he began to be in despair. But it was much worse when they came into the room, and when Soussio said, in a commanding tone: “King Charming, here is Princess Truitonne, to whom you have pledged your word. She is my god and I command that you marry her at once.” “What, I?” cried the king. “I marry this little monster? You must think me of a very docile disposition since you make such a proposal to me. In truth, I have promised her nothing, and if she says anything to the contrary she . . .” “Stop,” interrupted Soussio, “and never be so bold as to fail in respect for me.” “I am quite willing,” answered the king, “to give you all the respect that is due to a fairy, provided that you give me back my princess.” “And am I not your Princess, faithless wretch?” said Truitonne, showing him the ring. “To whom did you give this ring as a token of fidelity? To whom did you speak at the little window, if not to me?” “What!” he cried; “I have been tricked and deceived! But, no; I shall not be your dupe. Quick there! my frogs, my frogs! I shall depart at once!“Ho!” said Soussio, “that is not in your power unless I give leave”; and so saying she touched him, and his feet stuck fast to the floor as if they had been nailed to it. “Though you were to stone me, or to flog me,” said the king, “I shall never own another mistress but Florine. On this I am determined, and, knowing that, you can use your power as you like.” Soussio tried every means to soften his resolve–gentleness, threats, promises, supplications. Truitonne wept, cried aloud, groaned, flew into tempers, and cooled down again. The king said not a word; and looking at them both with the most scornful air in the world, paid not the faintest attention to all they said to him.Twenty days and twenty nights passed away in this fashion, during which they never stopped talking, never ate, never slept, never sat down. At last Soussio, tired out, could endure it no longer, and said to the king: “Well, you are indeed stubborn! Why will you not listen to reason? Take your choice: you shall have seven years’ penance for having made a promise you have not kept, or you shall marry my god The king, who had never uttered a word till now, cried out suddenly: “Do whatever you like with me, only deliver me from this detestable creature!” “I am no more detestable than you,” said Truitonne, wrathfully “you silly little king, coming with your equipage, fit only for the bogs, to my country, to insult and to break faith with me. If you had a particle of honour, would you behave so?” “These reproaches touch me deeply,” said the king, in mocking tone. “How foolish not to take so fair a lady for my wife!” “No, no,” said Soussio, angrily; “she will never marry you. You have only to fly out of the window if you want to. For seven years you will be changed into a blue bird.”At that moment the king’s person changed. His arms were covered with feathers, and turned into wings. His legs and feet became black and shrunken, with hooked claws. His body dwindled in size, and was all covered with long fine feathers, some of them of sky blue; his eyes became round, and shone like two planets; his nose was nothing but an ivory beak; and on his head stood up a white plume in the shape of a crown. He could sing exquisitely and speak too. He uttered a cry of pain to see himself metamorphosed, and flew as fast as ever he could to escape from Soussio’s horrible palace.In the melancholy state into which he had fallen he hopped about from branch to branch, choosing only those trees consecrated to love and sorrow: now on a myrtle, now on a cypress, singing sad songs, in which he lamented the evil fortune that pursued Florine anti himself. “Where have her enemies hidden her?” said he. “What has become of that fair victim? Does the cruelty of the queen still deprive her of her liberty? Where can I seek for her? Am I doomed to spend seven years without her? Perhaps during that time they will give her in marriage, and I shall lose for ever the hope that sustains my life.” All these thoughts so filled Blue Bird with despair that he wished to die.To return to Truitonne: the fairy Soussio sent her back to the queen, who was most anxious to hear how the wedding had passed off. But when she saw her daughter, and heard from her all that had happened, she flew into a terrible passion, of which the full force fell on poor Florine. “She shall duly repent,” said the queen, “of having found favour in Charming’s eyes.” She went up the tower with Truitonne, whom she had dressed in her grandest clothes. On her head was a diamond crown, and three daughters of the richest barons in the kingdom held the train of her royal mantle. On her thumb was Charming’s ring that Florine had noticed the day they had talked together. She was very much surprised to see Truitonne in such gorgeous apparel. “Here comes my daughter, who brings you presents in honour of her wedding,” said the queen. “King Charming has married her; he loves her to distraction, and there never were two happier people.” Then they spread out before the princess gold and silver stuffs, jewels, laces, ribbons, in great baskets of gold filigree work. In presenting all these things Truitonne never forgot for a moment to make the king’s ring flash; and Princess Florine, no longer able to hide from herself her misfortune, begged them with cries of despair to take all these miserable presents out of her sight, that she would never again wear anything hut black, or rather that she would like now to die. Then she fainted, and the cruel queen, delighted at her success, would not allow anyone to come to Florine’s aid. She left her alone in the most deplorable condition, and went and told the king maliciously that his daughter was so excited by her love that nothing could equal the absurd things she did, and that on no account must they allow her to get out of the tower. The king said she might manage the matter as she liked, and he would be satisfied whatever she did.When the princess recovered from her fainting fit, and began to reflect on the way she was treated, the cruelty of her wicked step-mother towards her, and the hope she was losing for ever of marrying King Charming, her grief became so keen that she cried all night, and in this condition she sat herself down at the window where she uttered sad and plaintive laments. When day was near she shut the window and wept anew.The following night she opened the window and sat heaving deep sighs, sobbing bitterly, and shedding torrents of tears. When day came she retired into her room. But King Charming, or rather the beautiful Blue Bird, flew round and round the palace, thinking his dear princess was inside; and if her laments were sad, his were no less so. He came as near to the windows as he could to peer into the room, but the fear lest Truitonne should see him, and discover who he was, kept him from doing all he wished. “It would cost me my life,” said he to himself. “If those wicked princesses find out where I am they will seek to revenge themselves. I must go away if I do not wish to run into the utmost danger.” These considerations made him take great pre cautions, and as a rule he sang only at night-time.In front of Florine’s window was a cypress of a tremendous height, and there the blue bird came and perched. Hardly was he there before he heard the cries of a lady. “How long will my sufferings last?” she said. “Will death not come to my aid? To those who fear him he comes but too soon, but for me, who long for him, he tarrieth cruelly. Ah, cruel queen! what harm have done you that you should keep me shut up in this horrible prison? Are there not other ways enough in which to torture me? You need only let me look on at the happiness which your wicked daughter enjoys with King Charming.’ The blue bird had lost not a word of this lament, which filled him with astonishment, and he waited for daylight with the utmost impatience to see the sorrowful lady. But before the dawn she had shut her window and gone out of sight.The bird, full of curiosity, did not fail to return next night. By the light of the moon that was then in the sky he saw a damsel at the window of the tower, and heard her beginning her lament. “Fortune,” she said-” that flatteredst me by setting me in a place of power; that madest me the darling of my father- what have I done that thou shouldst all at once plunge me into the bitterest waters? Should I begin to feel thy changefulness in these my tender years? Return, cruel one; return, if possible, and all I ask of thee is to end my unhappy life.” The blue bird listened, and the longer he listened the more persuaded was he that it was his dear princess who was uttering these laments. “Adorable Florine,” he said, “the wonder of our days, why do you long that yours should be so soon ended? Your misfortunes are not without a remedy.” “Ah! who is it speaks to me with words of comfort?” she cried. “An unhappy king,’ replied the bird. “He loves you, and will never love anyone else.” “A king who loves me?” she said. “Is this some snare my enemy has laid for me? But in the end what would she gain by it? If she seeks to find out what my feelings are, I am ready to make them all known to her.” “No, my princess he answered; “the lover who now speaks to you is not capable of betraying you”; and so saying he flew on to the window-sill. At first Florine was very much afraid of a bird so strange, that spoke as sensibly as a man, though in the gentle notes of a nightingale. But the beauty of its plumage and the words it said reassured her. “Do I in truth see you again, my princess?” he cried. “Can I taste such perfect happiness and not die for joy? But, alas! how my joy is troubled by your captivity, and at the shape into which Soussio has changed me for seven years.” “And who are you, you charming bird?” said the princess, caressing him. “You call me by my name,” said the king; “and you pretend not to know me!” “What!” said the princess; “the little bird in my hand is King- Charming!” “Alas! fair Florine, it is but too true,” he replied “and if anything could console me it is that I have preferred to suffer this rather than give up my love for you.” “For me!” said Florine. “Ah! do not seek to deceive me. I know, I know that you have married Truitonne. I recognised the ring on her finger as yours. I saw her sparkling with the diamonds you had given her. She came to insult me in my sad captivity, wearing a grand crown and royal mantle that she got from you; and all the while I was laden with chains and irons.”“You saw Truitonne in such a dress!” interrupted the king. “Her mother and herself have dared to say that these baubles came from me! Heaven! is it possible I hear such horrible lies, and that I cannot take my revenge on the spot? Believe me, they’ tried to deceive me, and by using your name they managed to make me run away with the hideous Truitonne, but as soon as I discovered my mistake I left her, choosing rather to be Blue Bird for seven long years than break my troth to you.”Florine was in such delight to hear these words from her dear lover that she forgot altogether her sufferings in the prison. What did she not say to him to comfort him for his sad mischance, and to persuade him that she would do no less for him than he had done for her? The day appeared, and the greater number of the officers of the court were already stirring while Blue Bird and the princess were still speaking together. It was terrible to tear themselves apart, and they only’ did so after promising to see each other in this way every night. The joy they’ felt at having found each other again was so great that there are no Words to describe it. Each of them in turn gave thanks to Love and Fortune, yet Florine was sad on Blue Bird’s account. “Who will protect him from the fowlers?” she said; “or from the sharp claw of some eagle or famished vulture? Who will devour him none the less greedily that he is a great king. O heaven! what would become of me if his light and delicate feathers, driven by the wind, were to come to my prison and to announce the danger that I fear?” For this thought the princess could not close an eye, for when one is in love illusions appear real, and what at another time would be thought impossible seems easy’ then, so that she spent her day in weeping till the hour came to seat herself at the window.The lovely bird, hidden in the hollow of a tree, had been all day long thinking of his dear princess. “How happy I am!” he said, “to have found her again! Anti how charming she is! And how grateful I am for all her kindness to me!” This tender lover counted every moment of the time of trial during which he could not marry her, and never was the end of anything longed for more passionately. As he wished to pay Florine every attention within his power, he flew to the capital of his kingdom, entered his own room by a broken pane of glass, chose out diamond ear-rings so perfect and so beautiful that nothing in the world could be compared to them. That evening he took them to Florine, and begged her to put them on. “I would do so willingly,” she said, “if you saw me during the day, but since I never speak to you but in the night I shall not put them on.” The bird promised to choose his time so well that he would come to the tower at any hour she liked. Then she put on the ear-rings, and the night, like the last, was spent in talking.Next day Blue Bird returned to his kingdom, went to his palace, entered his own room by the broken pane, and carried off the richest bracelets that were ever seen. They were made of a single emerald, cut in facets, with a hole bored through the middle through which to pass the hand and wrist. “Do you think that my love for you needs to be fed by gifts? Ah, how little you know of it!” “No, madam,” he answered; “I do not think that the trifles I offer you are needed to safeguard your tenderness for me, but mine would suffer hurt if I neglected any opportunity of showing my attention, and when I am away from you these little trinkets will remind you of me.” Florine answered him with many loving words, to which he replied by others none the less so.The following night the bird, eager to show his love, did not fail to bring to his fair lady a watch just of the right size. It was encased in a pearl, and the excellence of the workmanship excelled even the material it was made of. “What is the use of a watch to me?” she said, by way of a compliment. “When you are away from me the hours seem never-ending. When you are with me they pass like a dream. And thus I can never measure them exactly.” “Alas! my princess,” cried Blue Bird, “I feel just as you do; indeed I believe I feel this even more keenly than yourself.” “After what you suffer by reason of your faithfulness to me,” she answered, “I am ready to believe that greater respect and love than you bear me would be impossible.”As soon as daylight appeared the bird flew into the hollow of his tree, where he lived on fruits. Sometimes he would sing beautiful airs, delighting the passers-by, who hearing him and seeing no one, came to the conclusion that it was spirit voices they heard. This opinion became so common that no one dared enter the wood. Endless fabulous adventures were recounted, and in the general terror consisted Blue Bird’s safety. Never a day passed but he made some present to Florine, a pearl necklace, or rings with the most brilliant jewels and of the finest workmanship, clusters of diamonds, bodkins, bouquets of precious stones to imitate the colours of flowers, delightful books, medals-in short, an endless number of rare wonders. She never decked herself except in the night-time to please the king, and during the day, having nowhere else to put her fine things, she hid them carefully in her mattress.Two years passed away like this, and Florine never once uttered a complaint about her imprisonment. And why should she have done so? Every night she had the satisfaction of speaking to her love, and never were such pretty things said as during these conversations. Although she saw no one, and Blue Bird passed the day in the hollow of a tree, they had always a thousand fresh things to say to each other. Their material was inexhaustible, for in their own hearts and minds they found abundant subjects of conversation.Meanwhile the wicked queen, who kept her in this cruel fashion in prison, was making vain efforts to get Truitonne married. She sent ambassadors to offer her to all the princes whose names she knew, but as soon as they arrived they were sent away without ceremony. “If you had come about Princess Florine, we should have welcomed you gladly,” they were told “but for Truitonne, she may remain a vestal for ever for all anybody cares.” Hearing this, Truitonne and her mother were beside themselves with anger against the innocent princess whom they persecuted. “What!” they said, “in spite of her being in prison, this bold hussy conies in our way! How can we ever forgive the evil turns she has done us? She must keep up a secret correspondence with foreign countries. She is a State criminal, and must be dealt with as such. Let us seek her conviction.” Their consultation lasted so long that it ‘as nearly midnight when they decided to mount the tower to question the Princess. Florine was with Blue Bird at the window, decked in all her jewels, her beautiful hair dressed with a care which is not usual with anyone in distress. Her room and her bed were heaped with flowers, and the Spanish pastilles which she had been burning gave out a delicious scent. Listening at the door, the queen thought she heard a two-part song being sung. Florine had a voice like an angel’s, and what she now sang sounded to the queen like a love song. Here are the words of it:–“Weary our lot and full of woe,And all our days in pain are spent,Oh! hard and cruel punishment!Because our love we’d not foregoYet may they plot and plague us ever,Our constant hearts they cannot sever.”What sighs followed their little concert!“Ah, my Truitonne, we are betrayed!” cried the queen, suddenly throwing the door open and bursting into the room. At sight of her, Florine was in despair. She closed the little window without delay to give time to Blue Bird to fly off, much more anxious about his safety than her own. But he had not the strength to go. His keen eyes had recognised the danger to which the princess was exposed. He had seen the queen and Truitonne, and he deplored the sad fate that hindered him from protecting his mistress. They approached her like furies ready to devour her. “Your plots against the State are known,” cried the queen. “Do not imagine that your rank will save you from the punishment you deserve.” “And with whom have I plotted, madam?” answered the princess. “You have been my gaoler for two years, have you not? Have I seen any persons but those you have sent to me?” While she was speaking the queen and her daughter were examining her with the utmost wonder, for her marvellous beauty and her wonderful apparel dazzled them. “And whence, madam, come these jewels that shine brighter than the sun?” said the queen. “Will you have us believe that there are mines of them in this tower?” “I found them here,” replied Florine; “that is all I know.” ‘The queen looked at her searchingly to see what was passing in Florine’s secret heart. “We are not your dupes,” she said. “You think you can deceive us: but, princess, we know all you do from morning till night. You have been given all these jewels as a bribe to you to sell your father’s kingdom.” “Of course I should be the very person to do such a thing,” she replied, with a disdainful smile. “An unhappy princess, who has languished in prison for years, can do a great deal in a plot of that kind!” “And for whom then have you decked your hair like a little coquette; for whom does the pastille scent your room; and for whom have you put on such gay apparel, more magnificent than if you had been to appear at the court?” “I have time enough on my hands,” said the princess. “It is, therefore, not strange that I spend a few moments on my own adornment. I need hardly reproach myself on account of that, seeing I have to spend so many in weeping for my unhappy lot.” “Ha! but we shall see if this innocent damsel has not all the same made a treaty with our enemies.” There upon she set to searching all round, and coming to the bed, which she had shaken out, she found in it such a quantity of diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, topazes, that she could not think where they had come from. She had deter mined to hide somewhere papers of such a nature as would ruin the princess. When no one was looking she hid them in the chimney, but by good luck Blue Bird was perched on the top of it, and seeing better than a lynx, and hearing all, he cried: “Take care, Florine; your enemy is seeking to betray you “. This voice, so unexpected, frightened the queen to such a degree that she did not dare to do what she had intended. “You see, madam,” said the princess, “that the spirits of the air are my friends.” “I believe,” answered the queen, beside her self with anger, “that you have the demons on your side, but in spite of them your father will know how to right himself.” “Heaven grant,” cried Florine, “that I may never have worse to fear than my father’s wrath! Yours, madam, is more terrible.”The queen left her in great trouble at all she had seen and heard, and took counsel as to what she should do to defeat the princess. They told her that if some fairy or some enchanter had taken her under their protection, it would only irritate them to torment her further, and it would he best to try to discover her secret. The queen approved of this suggestion, and sent a young girl to sleep in her room, who played the part of an innocent, and by her orders told Florine she had come for the purpose of waiting on her. But it was not very likely the princess would fall into such a clumsy trap. Florine looked on her as a spy, and she was more troubled than ever. “What! I can never speak again to the bird that is so dear to me!” she said. “He helped me to bear my sorrows; I com forted him in his: our love was everything to us. What will he do? What shall I do myself?” And thinking on all this, her eyes flowed with tears.No longer did she dare to sit at the little window, although she heard the bird flying about. She was dying to open it for him, but she feared to run any risk with her dear lover’s life. She spent a whole month without showing her self at the window, and Blue Bird was in despair. How he did lament! How was he to live without seeing his princess? Never had he felt more keenly the misfortunes of absence and of his metamorphosis, and he sought remedies in vain for one and the other. He racked his brains and found no comfort.The princess’s spy, who had been watching day and night for a month, was so overcome with fatigue that at last she fell into a deep sleep. Florine noticed this, and opening the little window, she called out:–“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,Haste to where I wait for you”.These are her own words, which it has been thought best to keep unchanged. The bird heard them so distinctly that he came at once to the window. What joy to see each other again! How much they had to tell! Loving words and vows of faithfulness were repeated again and again; and when the princess could not keep from shedding tears her lover was melted with pity, and sought to console her as best he could. At last, the hour of parting having come, they said farewell to each other in the tenderest way, though the gaoler had not yet awakened.Next day again the spy fell asleep: the princess without delay sat down at the window, saying, as before:–“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,Haste to where I wait for you”.The bird came at the moment, and the night passed like the other without noise or disturbance, and our lovers were delighted, flattering themselves that the watcher would be so glad to sleep that she would do so every night. And, in fact, the third one passed very happily too. But on the following night the sleeper heard a noise, and lay listening quietly. Then she peered out curiously, and by the light of the moon saw the prettiest bird in the world speaking to the princess, and caressing her with his claws and pecking at her softly. Then she heard some words of their conversation, which astonished her greatly, for the bird spoke like a lover, and Florine answered with affection.Day dawned: they said farewell; and as they felt a presentiment of coming misfortune, they parted in great sorrow. The princess threw herself on her bed bathed in tears, and the king returned to his hollow tree. Her gaoler ran to the queen, and told her all she had seen and heard. The queen sent for Truitonne and her confidants, and after a long consultation they came to the conclusion that Blue Bird was King Charming. What an insult!” cried the queen; “What an insult, Truitonne! This insolent princess, who I thought was in such distress, has been enjoying at her ease the pleasant company of that ungrateful wretch. Ah! but I shall have my revenge, and in so deadly a way that it will be heard of!” Truitonne begged her not to lose a moment; and, as she thought the matter concerned her more nearly than the queen, she was beside herself with joy at the thought of all that was going to be done to the hurt of the lover and his mistress.The queen sent the spy again to the tower, ordering her to show neither suspicion nor curiosity, and to pretend to be in a deeper sleep than usual. She went to bed early, and snored as loud as she could, and the poor princess, deceived, opened the little window and:–“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,Haste to where I wait for you”.But all night long she called in vain; he did not come. For the wicked queen had tied spears and knives and razors and daggers to the cypress, and when he was alighting on it with all speed, these deadly weapons cut his feet. Then he fell on others which cut his wings, till at last, wounded all over, he flew in terrible pain to his tree, leaving a long track of blood. Why were you not there, fair princess, to comfort this royal bird? But she would have died to see him in such a deplorable condition. He did not care to tend his life in any way, thinking that it must have been Florine who had played him this trick. “Ah, cruel one,” he said, in sorrow, “is it thus you reward the purest and the tenderest passion, such as the world can never know again? If you desired my death, why did you not seek it yourself? Death would have been a precious gift from your hand! I was coming to meet you with such love and confidence. I was suffering for you, suffering without complaint. And now you have sacrificed me to the cruellest of women. She was the enemy of both of us, and you have made your peace with her at my expense. And it is you, Florine, you, who wound me! You have borrowed Truitonne’s hand and aimed it at my bosom!” And overcome by these sad thoughts, he determined to die.But his friend the enchanter, who had seen the flying frogs come back with the chariot, but no trace of the king, was so anxious as to what might have happened to him that he went round the world eight times in his search, but in vain. He was just making his ninth round when he entered the wood where the king was. According to the rules which had to be observed, he blew a long blast on the horn, and then called out as loud as he could: “King Charming, King Charming, where are you?” The king knew the voice for that of his best friend. “Come,” he answered “come to this tree, and see the unhappy king whom you love drowned in his blood.” The enchanter looked all round in surprise without seeing anything. “I am a blue bird,” said the king, in a weak and languid tone. Hearing this, the enchanter found him without trouble in his little nest. Any other would have been much more astonished than he was, but there was not a trick of necromancy that was unknown to him. A word or two was enough to stop the blood that was flowing still, and with some herbs that he found in the wood, over which he muttered some magic words, he cured the king as completely as though he had never been wounded. Then he begged him to tell him by what mischance he had been turned into a bird, and also asked him who had wounded him so cruelly. The king satisfied his curiosity saying that it was Florine who had revealed the sacred mystery of the secret visits he paid to her, and that to make her peace with the queen she had allowed the cypress to be stuck all over with daggers and razors, by which he had been well nigh hacked to pieces. He railed against the faithlessness of the princess saying he would rather have died than have known the wickedness of her heart. The magician broke out against her and against all women, and advised the king to forget all about her. “Think what a misfortune it would be were you capable of still loving that ungrateful princess. After what she has done you, anything might be expected of her.”But Blue Bird was not of this opinion. He loved Florine still too dearly, and the enchanter, who knew what he was thinking in spite of all the trouble he took to hide it, said to him:–“Reason is vain and comfort pailsIn midst of desolation.The ear lists only the heart’s cries,Is closed to consolation.Time with his torch will yet ere longLight up the darkest spot,But till that brighter hour come roundComfort availeth not.”And the royal bird agreed. Then he begged his friend to take him home and put him in a cage, where he would be safe from the cat and from murderous weapons. “But,” said the enchanter, “will you remain for five years still in a condition so deplorable and so little befitting your duties and your dignity? For, frankly, you have enemies who declare that you are dead. They wish to take possession of your kingdom, and I fear it may be lost to you before you have regained your former shape.” “Could I not go to my palace and carry on the government as I used to do?” “Ah!” cried his friend, “that would be difficult. They who would willingly obey a man would hardly own a parrot as master; and while they would fear you as a king surrounded with splendour and pomp, they would pluck out your feathers when they saw you a little bird.’ “Ah, how weak men are!” cried the king; “a brilliant exterior means after all nothing in the way of merit or virtue, and yet it is well nigh impossible to keep out of the circle of its influence. Ah, well!” he continued; “let us be philosophers, and despise what may not be ours: our lot will be none the harder.” “I do not give up so quickly,” said the magician. “I hope to be able to find some means of solving the difficulty.”Florine, poor Florine, in despair at not seeing the king, passed days and nights at the window, with these words ever on her tongue:–“Bird, with wings of heaven’s blue,Haste to where I wait for you”.The presence of the spy did not keep her silent, for her distress was such that she became quite reckless. “What has become of you, King Charming?” she cried. “Have your enemies and mine made you feel the cruel effects of their rage? Are you a victim to their fury? Alas, alas! are you then dead? Shall I never see you any more? or, tired of me and my sorrows, have you left me to my unhappy lot?” Arid then the tears, the sobs, that would follow her pitiful laments! How the hours dragged in the absence of a lover so tender, so beloved! The princess, worn out, ill, thin, and sadly changed, could hardly bear her life any longer, feeling certain that the most terrible fate had overtaken the king.The queen and Truitonne were joyful; they were more delighted with their vengeance than they had formerly been annoyed by the offence. And in reality, what offence had been given them? King Charming had not been willing to marry a little monster whom he had every reason in the world to detest. But now Florine’s father grew old, fell ill, and died. The fortunes of the wicked queen and her daughter wore a different face. They were looked on as favourites who had abused their influence, and the people, in rebellion, hastened to the palace, demanding the Princess Florine, owning her as their sovereign. The queen, in a passion, would have liked to have treated the matter with a high hand, and going out on a balcony she threatened the rebels. Then the sedition spread the doors of her room were forced, the room was pillaged, and the queen was stoned to death. Truitonne fled to her god-mother, the fairy Soussio, for she ran no less a risk than her mother.The nobles of the kingdom assembled at once, and mounted the tower where the princess was lying very ill, unconscious of the death of her father or the punishment of her enemy. When she heard all the noise she did not doubt but that they were coming to put her to death; yet she was not afraid, for life was hateful to her since she had lost Blue Bird. But her subjects, throwing them selves at her feet, made known to her the change in her fortunes, news which left her cold and indifferent. Taking her away to the palace, they crowned her.The infinite care that was taken of her health, and her strong desire to go in search of Blue Bird, helped to cure her, and before long she felt well enough to nominate a council to take charge of the kingdom in her absence. Then choosing out jewels to the value of an immense sum, she set out one night quite alone, without letting anyone k-now where she was going.The enchanter who was looking after King Charming’s affairs, not being powerful enough to undo all that Soussio had done, determined to go and find her, and to propose to her some arrangement by means of which the king would have his natural shape restored to him. Taking the frogs, he flew to the fairy, who at that moment was speaking with Truitonne. There is not very much difference between an enchanter and a fairy. These two had known each other for five or six hundred years, and in that space of time they had had a hundred quarrels and made them up again. She received him very kindly. “Well, and what does my comrade want?” she said. (They all call each other comrades.) “Is there anything I could do for you?” “Yes, mother,” said the magician, “you can do everything I want. I have come on a matter concerning my best friend, a king whom you have ruined.” “Ha, ha! I understand you, comrade,” cried Soussio. “He has incurred my wrath, and there is no pardon to be hoped for him unless he will marry my god-daughter. Here she is; beautiful and charming, as you see. Let him choose.”The enchanter was almost struck dumb at her intense ugliness; yet he could not make up his mind to go away without making some arrangement with the fairy, for the king had run a thousand risks since he had been in the cage. The nail to which it was hung had got broken, the cage had fallen, and his feathered majesty had suffered much in consequence. Ninet, the cat, was in the room when the accident happened, and scratched his eye with its paw, which all but blinded him. Another time they had forgotten to give him anything to drink, and he was on the way to have the pip when they saved him from it by giving him a few drops of water. A mischievous little monkey, having got loose, caught hold of his feathers through the bars of the cage, and spared him not a whit more than if he had been a jay or a blackbird. The worst of all was that he was on the point of losing his kingdom, and every day the heirs foraged out some fresh stories to prove he was dead. At last the enchanter made an arrangement with Soussio that she would take Truitonne to the palace of King Charming, that she should stay there several months, during which he would make up his mind to marry her; that, in return, Soussio would restore him his own shape, he to be ready to assume the bird’s again if he refused to marry.The fairy gave Truitonne dresses all of gold and silver. Then she mounted her behind herself on a dragon, and they repaired to the land of Charming, who had just arrived with his faithful friend, the enchanter. With three waves of the wand he was again as he had used to be-handsome, amiable, witty, and splendidly attired. But the cutting short of his punishment was dear bought, for the mere thought of marrying Truitonne made him shudder. The enchanter gave him all the best reasons he could think of, but they made but slight impression on the king’s mind; and he was less taken up with the government of his kingdom than with the means of prolonging the time which Soussio had given him before marrying Truitonne.Meanwhile Queen Florine, disguised in a peasant’s dress, her hair all in disorder and hanging over her face, a straw hat on her head, and a canvas bag over her shoulder, set out on her journey, sometimes walking, sometimes riding, sometimes by sea, sometimes by land. She made as much speed as possible, but, not knowing where to turn her steps, she was always in fear lest while she went in one direction her dear king should be in the other. One day she stopped at the side of a stream, where the silver water rushed over little pebbles, and, wishing to bathe her feet, she sat down on the grass, and tying up her fair hair with a ribbon, put her feet in the water, like Diana, bathing on her return from the chase. There passed by a little old woman, quite bent, and leaning on a big stick. Stopping, she said to Florine: “What are you doing there, my pretty maid, so all by yourself?” “My good mother,” said the queen, “I do not want for company, for all my sorrows, anxieties, and disappointments abide with me.” At these words her eyes filled with tears. “What! so young, and weeping!” said the good woman. “Ah! my daughter, do not distress your self. Tell me frankly what is the matter, and I hope to be able to comfort you.” The queen consented, and told her troubles, the fairy Soussio’s part in the business, and, finally, how she was now in search of Blue Bird.The little old woman drew herself up, shook herself out; her appearance changed all at once, and she became beautiful, young, superbly dressed, and looking at the queen with a gracious smile, she said: “Incomparable Florine, the king you are seeking is no longer a bird. My sister Soussio has restored to him his former shape, and he is now in his own kingdom. Do not despair. You will reach him, and will gain your end. Here are four eggs: you can break them when you are in urgent need of help, and will find in them what will serve you well.” And saying these words, she vanished.Florine felt much consoled by what she had just heard, and putting the eggs in her bag, turned her steps towards the kingdom of King Charming. After walking eight days and eight nights without stopping, she reached the base of a mountain of a prodigious height, all made of ivory, and so steep that you could not set foot on it without falling. Over and over again she tried, but in vain. She slipped, she tired herself out, and in despair at so insurmountable an obstacle, she lay down at the foot of the mountain, with no other desire but to die, when she remembered the eggs which the fairy had given her. Taking one of them, she said: “Let me see if she was not laughing at me, in promising me the help of which I stand in need “. As soon as she had cracked it, she found inside little golden grappling irons, which she attached to her feet and hands. As soon as she had them on she climbed the ivory mountain without any difficulty for the irons stuck into the ground and kept her from slipping. When she was quite at the top, a new difficulty met her — how to get down again — for the whole valley was one sheet of mirror. All round were ranged more than sixty thousand women looking at themselves with the utmost delight, for this mirror was more than two leagues wide and six high; and there everyone saw herself as she wished to be. The red-haired maiden saw herself with fair ringlets, and brown hair looked black. The old dame saw herself young again, and the young never grew aged there. In short, all one’s defects were so well hidden that people came from the four quarters of the globe. It was enough to make one die of laughing to see the grimaces and the affectations of the greater number of those vain creatures. And men were no less attracted by the flattery, for the mirror pleased them too. This one looking at himself would think what beautiful hair he had; others would seem to themselves to have grown in height, and to have a much finer figure than before, a more soldierly bearing, or a handsomer face. The women whom they laughed at, laughed just as much at them. And this mountain was called by all sorts of different names. No one had ever reached the top, and when Florine was seen up there the ladies broke out into loud cries of despair. “Where is this unlucky girl going?” they said. “Doubtless she is mad enough to walk on our mirror, and at the first step she will break it all.” And they set up such a hullabaloo. The queen did not know what to do, for she saw great danger in descending that way. So she broke another egg, out of which came two pigeons and! a chariot, which became on the spot big enough for her to get into comfortably. Then the pigeons descended lightly with the queen, without the slightest accident. “My little friends,” she said to them, “if you would but take me to the place where King Charming holds his court, it would be a service which would never be for gotten. The pigeons were willing and docile, and they stopped neither night nor day till they had reached the gate of the town. Florine got down and gave each of them a sweet kiss, a greater reward than a crown would have been.Oh! how her heart beat fast as she entered. In order that she might not be recognised she besmeared her face, and then asked the passers-by where she could see the king. Some of them began to laugh. “See the king!” they said, “little smutty face? Go away, go away and wash yourself. Your eyes are not good enough to look upon such a monarch.” The queen answered nothing but passed on gently, and asked those whom she next met where she should stand to see the king. “He will be coming to the temple to-morrow with Princess Truitonne,” they said; “for at last he has consented to marry her.”Heavens! what news was this! Truitonne, the wicked Truitonne, about to marry the king! Florine thought she would die. She had no strength left to speak or move, and she sat down under a doorway on a heap of stones, her face well hidden by her hair and her straw hat. “Ah! how unhappy I am,” she said; “to come here to render the triumph of my rival greater, and to be a wit ness to her joy. It was because of her then that Blue Bird stopped coming to see me. It was for this little monster that he has been so cruelly faithless to me. “While I was plunged in grief and anxiety lest he should be dead, the traitor had changed; and thinking no more of me than if he had never seen me, left me to mourn his too long absence without concerning himself about mine.”When one is very unhappy one’s appetite is not usually very good, so the queen sought for a lodging, and went to bed supperless. Rising with the day, she hastened to the temple, and entered only after receiving endless rebuffs from the guards and the soldiers. Then she saw the king’s throne and Truitonne’s, who was already looked on as queen. What sorrow for a heart so tender and sensitive as Florine’s! She went up to her rival’s throne, and stood there leaning against a marble pillar. The king was the first to arrive-handsomer, comelier than ever. Truitonne followed, richly clad, but so ugly that she frightened all those who set eyes on her. Looking at the queen, she frowned and said: “are you that dares to approach my fair presence, and to stand near my golden throne?” “My name is Mie Souillon,” she answered; “I come from a long way off to sell you rarities.” Then she rummaged in her sack and drew out the emerald bracelets that King Charming had given her. “Ho, ho!” said Truitonne; “these are pretty bits of glass. Will you have a five sou piece for them?” “Show them to those who know their value, madam,” said the queen; “and then we can make our bargain.” Truitonne, who loved the king more tenderly than such a monster seemed capable of, was delighted to find opportunities of speaking to him, and approaching his throne, showed him the bracelets, and asked him what he thought of them. At sight of them he called to mind those he had given to Florine, and grew pale, sighed, and remained long without answering a word. At length, fearing lest they should notice evidences of the conflicting thoughts within him, he made an effort, and answered: “These bracelets are worth, I should think, as much as my kingdom. I thought there was but one such pair in the world, yet here are others just like.”Truitonne came back and sat on her throne, where she looked not quite so pretty as an oyster in a shell. Then she asked the queen how much, without overcharging, she would take for these bracelets. “You would never be able to pay me, madam,” she said. “I’ll rather propose another bargain to you. If you will let me sleep one night in the echo room of the king’s palace I shall give you the emeralds.” “Very well, little smutty face,” said Truitonne, laughing like a madwoman and showing her teeth, which were longer than a wild boar’s tusks.The king never asked where the bracelets came from, not so much from in difference to her who presented them, although she was hardly of a condition to rouse his curiosity, as from an antipathy he could not master that he felt towards Truitonne. Now you must know that while he was Blue Bird he had told the princess that under his apartment there was a little room called the echo room, so ingeniously made that all that was said quite low in it was heard by the king when he lay in his own room; and as Florine wished to reproach him with his unfaithfulness, she could think of no better means.By order of Truitonne she was brought into this cabinet, and there she began her cries and laments. “The misfortune which I only feared is now but too certain. Cruel Blue Bird!” he said; “you have forgotten me. You love my wicked rival. The bracelets I received from your faithless hand could not recall me to you, so far have I slipped out of your remembrance!” Then sobs interrupted her words, and when she had regained strength enough to speak her cries broke out anew, and went on till daybreak. The valets-de-chambre had heard her all night long groaning and sighing, and told Truitonne, who asked her what noise she had been making. The queen said she was such a sound sleeper that usually she dreamt, and that very often in dreaming she spoke quite loud. As for the king, by a strange fatality he had not heard her, for since ever he had loved Florine he could not sleep, and when he went to bed to rest they gave him opium.The queen passed a part of the day in a wondering anxiety. “If he heard me,” she said, “could he be more cruelly indifferent? If he did not, what shall I do to make him hear me?” She had no more rare curiosities. She had, it is true, beautiful jewels, but it was necessary to find something which would take Truitonne’s fancy. She, therefore, had recourse to her eggs. As soon as she broke one out came a little coach of polished steel inlaid with gold. Six green mice were harnessed to it. The driver was a rose-coloured rat, and the postillions, also of the rat family, were of a flax grey. In this coach were four marionettes, livelier and funnier than any of those you would see at St. Germain’s or St. Lawrence’s Fair. The things they did were extraordinary, especially two little gypsies who could dance a saraband or a jig as well as Leance.The queen was delighted with this fresh wonder of magic, but she kept it to herself till evening, at which time Truitonne used to go for a walk. Then, stationing herself in one of the avenues, she set the mice off at a gallop with the coach, the rats, and the marionettes. Truitonne was so astonished at this curiosity that she cried out two or three times: “Mie Souillon, Mie Souillon, will you take five halfpence for your coach and mice?” “Ask the learned men and the scholars of this kingdom,” said Florine, “the worth of such a curiosity, and I will take whatever the most learned may say is its value.” Truitonne, who was always very imperious, said: “Tell me the price of it, and take your dirty face out of my sight “. “To sleep again in the echo chamber,” she answered; “that is all I ask.” “‘Well, be off with you, poor wretch,” said Truitonne “you won’t be refused that”; and turning towards her ladies-in-waiting, she added: “What a fool she is to get so little profit out of her curiosities!”Night came. Florine said the tenderest things she could think of, but all in vain as before, for the king never failed to take his opium. The valets said to each other: “Not a doubt but this peasant girl is mad. What does she talk for all night long?” “All the same,” some of them remarked, “neither sense nor tenderness is lacking in what she says.” She waited with impatience for the day to see what effect her words had had. “What! is this wretch grown deaf to my voice? Does he no longer hear his beloved Florine? Ah, how weak I am to care for him still, and I deserve the contempt he pours on me!” But it was in vain she reasoned thus; she could not kill the affection she felt for him.The only thing she could now hope for help from was the one egg left in her bag. She broke it, and out came a pie made of six birds, all larded, cooked, and beautifully dressed. The pie sang in a wonderful fashion, told fortunes, and knew more of medicine than AEsculapius even. The queen, delighted with the wonderful thing, hastened with her talking pie into Truitonne’s ante-chamber. While she was waiting for her to come that way, one of the king’s valets come up to her, and said: “Mie Souillon, do you know that if the king did not take opium to make him sleep you would certainly drive him wild, for you chatter during the night in such an astonishing fashion?” Florine no longer wondered that he had not heard her, and rummaging in her bag, she said: “I have so little fear of disturbing the king’s rest that if you give him no opium to-night, and let me sleep in that same room, all these pearls and all these diamonds will be yours.” The valet agreed, and gave her his word on it.A few minutes after Truitonne came along. Seeing the queen with her pie, pretending as if she were going to eat it, she said: “What are you doing there, Mie Souillon?” “Madam,” replied Florine, “I am eating astrologers, musicians, and doctors.” At that moment all the birds began to sing more sweetly than sirens, and cried: “Give us a silver penny, and we will tell you your fortune.” A duck appeared to be the leader, and he called out louder than the others: “Quack, quack, quack! I am a physician; I can cure every ill and every kind of madness except love.” Truitonne, more surprised by such wonders than ever she had been in her life, swore: “Bless my heart, but here is a fine pie! I must have it. Come, now, Mie Souillon, what shall I give you for it?” “The usual price,” she answered: “let me sleep in the echo room, nothing more.” “See,” said Truitonne, generously (for she was in a very good temper at having got such a pie), “I’ll give you a pistole.” And Florine, better pleased than she had yet been, thinking that the king might hear her this time, withdrew, giving thanks to Truitonne.As soon as night came on she betook herself to the echo room, hoping eagerly that the valet had kept his word, and that instead of giving the king opium, he had given him something to keep him awake. When she k-new that everybody else was asleep she began her usual laments. “To what dangers am I exposed in my search for you!” she said. “And all the while you flee me and wish to marry Truitonne. What have I done, cruel man, that you should for get your oaths? Do you remember your metamorphosis, my kindness to you, and our loving conversations?” Then she repeated nearly the whole of them, with a memory which amply proved that nothing was dearer to her than this remembrance.The king was not sleeping, and he heard Florine’s voice so distinctly, and all she said, that he could not understand where the words came from. But his heart, overpowered with sudden tenderness, called back in such a life-like way the memory of his incomparable princess that he felt his separation from her as keenly as he did the moment when the knives had wounded him in the cypress tree. Then on his part he began to speak after the fashion of the queen. “Ah! princess,” he said, “you have been too cruel to the lover who adored you. Is it possible you sacrificed me to the enemies of us both?” Florine heard what he said, and did not fail to reply, and to let him know that if he would talk over the matter with Mie Souillon, all the mysteries he had not been able to understand till now would be cleared up. At these words the king, with out waiting a moment, called for one of his valets, and asked him if he could not find Mie Souillon and bring her to the palace. The valet said nothing was easier, for she was sleeping in the echo room. The king did not know what to think. How could he believe that so great a queen as Florine should be disguised as Souillon? And how could he believe that Mie Souillon had the queen’s voice, and knew her most intimate secrets, unless she were the queen herself? In this uncertainty he rose, dressed quickly, and went by a secret stair case to the echo room. The queen had taken away the key, but the king had one that opened all the doors of the palace. He found her wrapped in a light robe of white taffeta, which she wore under her old clothes. Her beautiful hair hung over her shoulders as she lay on a couch, a lamp some little way off giving only a sombre light. The king entered suddenly, and his love getting the better of his anger, as soon as he recognised her he threw himself at her feet, and bathed her hands in his tears. He thought he must die of joy, of grief, of the thousand different feelings that crowded all at once into his soul.The queen was no less disturbed. She felt a weight on her heart, and could hardly breathe, but lay looking fixedly at the king without saying a word. When she recovered strength enough to speak, she had none to use for reproaches, and the pleasure of seeing him once more made her forget for some time her grievances against him. At last they came to an understanding: they justified themselves: their tenderness awoke again, and their only trouble was the fairy Soussio.But just at that moment the enchanter, who loved the king, arrived with a celebrated fairy, the very one who had given the four eggs to Florine. After the first greeting, the enchanter and the fairy declared that they had joined their power together in favour of the king and the queen. Soussio was, therefore, powerless against them, and the wedding need not be delayed.It is easy to picture the joy of these two young lovers. As soon as daylight came it was known throughout the palace, and everyone was delighted to see Florine. The news reached Tri who ran to the king. What a surprise for her to find her fair rival with him! When she was just opening her mouth to call Florine names, the enchanter and the fairy appeared and changed her into a sow (Ernie), so that at least a part of her name and her surly temper remained to her. She ran away grunting, grunting, down to the backyard, where the loud laughter she was met with put a climax to her misery.King Charming and Queen Florine, free from this hateful woman, gave themselves up to planning their wedding feast, and everything was as elegant as it was superb. And it is not difficult to imagine how happy they were after having known so many hardships.
Once there lived a peasant and his wife who had three daughters. The two elder girls were cunning and selfish; the youngest was simple and open-hearted, and on that account came to be called, first by her sisters and afterwards by her father and mother, “Little Simpleton.” Little Simpleton was pushed about, had to fetch everything that was wanted, and was always kept at work; but she was ever ready to do what she was told, and never uttered a word of complaint. She would water the garden, prepare pine splinters, milk the cows, and feed the ducks; she had to wait upon everybody,—in a word, she was the drudge of the family.One day, as the peasant was going with the hay to market, he asked his daughters what they would like him to buy for them.“Buy me some kumach for a sarafan, father,” answered the eldest daughter.“And me some nankeen,” said the second. The youngest daughter alone did not ask for a present. The peasant was moved with compassion for the girl; although a simpleton she was still his daughter. Turning to her he asked,—”Well, Little Simpleton, what shall I buy for you?”Little Simpleton smiled and replied,—“Buy me, dearest father, a little silver plate and a little apple.”“What do you want them for?” asked her sisters.“I will make the little apple roll round the plate, and will say some words to it which an old woman taught me because I gave her a cake.”The peasant promised to buy his daughters what they asked of him, and then started for market. He sold his hay, and bought the presents: some nankeen for one of his daughters, for another some kumach, and for Little Simpleton a little silver plate and a little apple. Then he returned home and gave these things to his daughters.The girls were delighted; the two elder ones made themselves sarafans, and laughed at Little Simpleton, wondering what she would do with the silver plate and the apple.Little Simpleton did not eat the apple, but sat down in a corner and cried,—“Roll, roll, little apple on the silver plate, and show me towns and fields, forests and seas, lofty mountains, and beautiful skies.”And the apple began to roll on the plate, and there appeared on it town after town; ships sailing on the seas, and people in the fields; mountains and beautiful skies; suns and stars. All these things looked so beautiful, and were so wonderful, that it would be impossible to tell of them in a story, or describe them with the pen.At first the elder sisters looked at the little plate with delight; soon, however, their hearts were filled with envy, and they began to try to get it from their younger sister. But the girl would not part with it on any account. Then the wicked girls said,—“Dearest sister, let us go into the forest to gather blackberries.”Little Simpleton got up, gave the plate and apple to her father, and went with them into the forest. They walked about and gathered blackberries. All at once they saw a spade lying upon the ground. The wicked sisters killed Little Simpleton with it, and buried her under a birch-tree.They returned home late, and told their father,—”The Simpleton is lost; she ran away from us in the forest; we searched, but could not find her anywhere. The wolves must have eaten her.”The peasant regretted the loss of his daughter bitterly; for although so simple she was still his child. The wicked sisters also shed tears. Her father put the little silver plate and the little apple into a box, and locked them up.Next morning a shepherd was tending his sheep near the place, playing on his pipe, and searching in the forest for one of his flock that was missing. He observed the little grave under the birch-tree; it was covered by the most lovely flowers, and out of the middle of the grave there grew a reed. The shepherd cut off the reed, and made a pipe of it. As soon as the pipe was prepared, oh, wonderful! it began to play of itself, and say,—“Play, oh pipe, play! and comfort my poor parents and sisters. I was killed for the sake of my little silver plate and my little apple.”When the people heard of this they ran out of their huts, and all came round the shepherd and began to ask him who was killed.“Good people,” answered the shepherd, “I don’t know who it is. While searching for one of my sheep in the forest, I came upon a grave covered with flowers. Above them all stood a reed. I cut off the reed and made this pipe of it. It plays of itself, and you have heard what it says.”The father of Little Simpleton happened to be present. He took the pipe into his own hand, and it began to play:—“Play, oh pipe, play! Comfort my poor father and mother. I was killed for the sake of my little silver plate and my little apple.” The peasant asked the shepherd to take him to the place where he had cut the reed. They all went into the forest, saw the grave, and were astonished at the sight of the lovely flowers which grew there. They opened the grave, and there discovered the body of a girl, which the poor man recognised as that of his youngest daughter. There she lay, murdered—but by whom no one could tell. The people asked one another who it was that had killed the poor girl. Suddenly the pipe began to play,—“Oh, my dearest father! my sisters brought me to this forest, and here killed me for the sake of my little plate and my little apple. You will not bring me to life until you fetch some of the water from the czar’s well.”Then the wicked sisters confessed it all. They were seized and cast into a dark prison, to await the pleasure of the czar. The peasant set out for the capital. As soon as he arrived at the city, he went to the palace, saw the czar, told his story, and begged permission to take some water from the well. The Czar said, “You may take some water of life from my well, and as soon as you have restored your daughter to life, bring her here with her little plate, and the little apple; bring your other two daughters also.”The peasant bowed to the ground, and returned home with a bottle full of the water of life. He hastened to the grave in the forest, lifted up the body of his daughter, and as soon as he had sprinkled it with the water the girl came to life again, and threw herself into his arms. All who were present were moved to tears.Then the peasant started again for the capital, and arriving there went at once to the czar’s palace. The czar came out, and saw the peasant with his three daughters, two of them with their arms bound, the third, as beautiful as the spring flowers, stood near, the tears like diamonds falling down her cheeks. The czar was very angry with the two wicked sisters; then he asked the youngest for her little plate and apple. The girl took the box from her father’s hands, and said,—“Sire, what would you like to see? Your towns or your armies; the ships at sea, or the beautiful stars in the sky?”Then she made the little apple roll round the plate, and there appeared on it many towns, one after the other, with bodies of soldiers near them, with their standards and artillery. Then the soldiers made ready for the fight, and the officers stood in their places. The firing commenced, the smoke arose, and hid it all from view. The little apple began again to roll on the plate, and there appeared the sea covered with ships, their flags streaming in the wind. The guns began to fire, the smoke arose, and again all disappeared from their sight. The apple again began to roll on the plate, and there appeared on it the beautiful sky with suns and stars.The czar was astonished. The girl fell down on her knees before him, and cried,—“Oh, Sire, take my little plate and my little apple, and forgive my sisters!”The czar was moved by her tears and entreaties, and forgave the wicked sisters; the delighted girl sprang up and began to embrace and kiss them. The czar smiled, took her by the hand and said, “I honour the goodness of your heart, and admire your beauty. Would you like to become my wife?”“Sire,” answered the beautiful girl, “I obey your royal command; but allow me first to ask my parents’ permission.”The delighted peasant at once gave his consent; they sent for the mother, and she, too, gladly bestowed her blessing.“One favour more,” said the beautiful girl to the czar. “Permit my parents and sisters to remain with me.”On hearing this the sisters fell down on their knees before her, and cried,—“We are not worthy of so much favour!”“Dearest sisters,” said the beautiful girl, “all is forgotten and forgiven. They who remember the past with malice deserve to lose their sight.”She then tried to lift them up from the ground, but they, shedding bitter tears, would not rise. Then the czar, looking at them with a frown, bade them get up; he allowed them, however, to stay in the palace.A magnificent entertainment then began: the palace was splendidly lighted up, and looked like the sun among the clouds. The czar and czarina rode out in an open chariot and showed themselves to the people, who cried joyfully,—“Long live czar and czarina! May they shine upon us like the glorious sun for years and years to come!”
Manawyddan the prince and his friend Pryderi were wanderers, for the brother of Manawyddan had been slain, and his throne taken from him. Very sorrowful was Manawyddan, but Pryderi was stout of heart, and bade him be of good cheer, as he knew a way out of his trouble.‘And what may that be?’ asked Manawyddan.‘It is that thou marry my mother Rhiannon and become lord of the fair lands that I will give her for dowry. Never did any lady have more wit than she, and in her youth none was more lovely; even yet she is good to look upon.’‘Thou art the best friend that ever a man had,’ said Manawyddan. ‘Let us go now to seek Rhiannon, and the lands where she dwells.’Then they set forth, but the news of their coming ran swifter still, and Rhiannon and Kieva, wife of Pryderi, made haste to prepare a feast for them. And Manawyddan found that Pryderi had spoken the truth concerning his mother, and asked if she would take him for her husband. Right gladly did she consent, and without delay they were married, and rode away to the hunt, Rhiannon and Manawyddan, Kieva and Pryderi, and they would not be parted from each other by night or by day, so great was the love between them.One day, when they were returned, they were sitting out in a green place, and suddenly the crash of thunder struck loudly on their ears, and a wall of mist fell between them, so that they were hidden one from the other. Trembling they sat till the darkness fled and the light shone again upon them, but in the place where they were wont to see cattle, and herds, and dwellings, they beheld neither house nor beast, nor man nor smoke; neither was any one remaining in the green place save these four only.‘Whither have they gone, and my host also?’ cried Manawyddan, and they searched the hall, and there was no man, and the castle, and there was none, and in the dwellings that were left was nothing save wild beasts. For a year these four fed on the meat that Manawyddan and Pryderi killed out hunting, and the honey of the bees that sucked the mountain heather. For a time they desired nothing more, but when the next year began they grew weary.‘We cannot spend our lives thus,’ said Manawyddan at last, ‘let us go into England and learn some trade by which we may live.’ So they left Wales, and went to Hereford, and there they made saddles, while Manawyddan fashioned blue enamel ornaments to put on their trappings. And so greatly did the townsfolk love these saddles, that no others were bought throughout the whole of Hereford, till the saddlers banded together and resolved to slay Manawyddan and his companions.When Pryderi heard of it, he was very wroth, and wished to stay and fight. But the counsels of Manawyddan prevailed, and they moved by night to another city.‘What craft shall we follow?’ asked Pryderi.‘We will make shields,’ answered Manawyddan.‘But do we know anything of that craft?’ answered Pryderi.‘We will try it,’ said Manawyddan, and they began to make shields, and fashioned them after the shape of the shields they had seen; and these likewise they enamelled. And so greatly did they prosper that no man in the town bought a shield except they had made it, till at length the shield-makers banded together as the saddlers had done, and resolved to slay them. But of this they had warning, and by night betook themselves to another town.‘Let us take to making shoes,’ said Manawyddan, ‘for there are not any among the shoemakers bold enough to fight us.’‘I know nothing of making shoes,’ answered Pryderi, who in truth despised so peaceful a craft.‘But I know,’ replied Manawyddan, ‘and I will teach thee to stitch. We will buy the leather ready dressed, and will make the shoes from it.Then straightway he sought the town for the best leather, and for a goldsmith to fashion the clasps, and he himself watched till it was done, so that he might learn for himself. Soon he became known as ‘The Maker of Gold Shoes,’ and prospered so greatly, that as long as one could be bought from him not a shoe was purchased from the shoemakers of the town. And the craftsmen were wroth, and banded together to slay them.‘Pryderi,’ said Manawyddan, when he had received news of it, ‘we will not remain in England any longer. Let us set forth to Dyved.’So they journeyed until they came to their lands at Narberth. There they gathered their dogs round them, and hunted for a year as before.After that a strange thing happened. One morning Pryderi and Manawyddan rose up to hunt, and loosened their dogs, which ran before them, till they came to a small bush. At the bush, the dogs shrank away as if frightened, and returned to their masters, their hair brisling on their backs.‘We must see what is in that bush,’ said Pryderi, and what was in it was a boar, with a skin as white as the snow on the mountains. And he came out, and made a stand as the dogs rushed on him, driven on by the men. Long he stood at bay; then at last he betook himself to flight, and fled to a castle which was newly built, in a place where no building had ever been known. Into the castle he ran, and the dogs after him, and long though their masters looked and listened, they neither saw nor heard aught concerning dogs or boar.‘I will go into the castle and get tidings of the dogs,’ said Pryderi at last.‘Truly,’ answered Manawyddan, ‘thou wouldst do unwisely, for whosoever has cast a spell over this land has set this castle here.’‘I cannot give up my dogs,’ replied Pryderi, and to the castle he went.But within was neither man nor beast; neither boar nor dogs, but only a fountain with marble round it, and on the edge a golden bowl, richly wrought, which pleased Pryderi greatly. In a moment he forgot about his dogs, and went up to the bowl and took hold of it, and his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the marble slab, and despair took possession of him.Till the close of day Manawyddan waited for him, and when the sun was fast sinking, he went home, thinking that he had strayed far.‘Where are thy friend and thy dogs?’ said Rhiannon, and he told her what had befallen Pryderi.‘A good friend hast thou lost,’ answered Rhiannon, and she went up to the castle and through the gate, which was open. There, in the centre of the courtyard, she beheld Pryderi standing, and hastened towards him.‘What dost thou here?’ she asked, laying her hand on the bowl, and as she spoke she too stuck fast, and was not able to utter a word. Then thunder was heard and a veil of darkness descended upon them, and the castle vanished and they with it.When Kieva, the wife of Pryderi, found that neither her husband nor his mother returned to her, she was in such sorrow that she cared not whether she lived or died. Manawyddan was grieved also in his heart, and said to her:‘It is not fitting that we should stay here, for he have lost our dogs and cannot get food. Let us go into England–it is easier for us to live there.’ So they set forth.‘What craft wilt thou follow?’ asked Kieva as they went along.‘I shall make shoes as once I did,’ replied he; and he got all the finest leather in the town and caused gilded clasps to be made for the shoes, till everyone flocked to buy, and all the shoemakers in the town were idle and banded together in anger to kill him. But luckily Manawyddan got word of it, and he and Kieva left the town one night and proceeded to Narberth, taking with him a sheaf of wheat, which he sowed in three plots of ground. And while the wheat was growing up, he hunted and fished, and they had food enough and to spare. Thus the months passed until the harvest; and one evening Manawyddan visited the furthest of his fields of wheat; and saw that it was ripe.‘To-morrow I will reap this,’ said he; but on the morrow when he went to reap the wheat he found nothing but the bare straw.Filled with dismay he hastened to the second field, and there the corn was ripe and golden.‘To-morrow I will reap this,’ he said, but on the morrow the ears had gone, and there was nothing but the bare straw.‘Well, there is still one field left,’ he said, and when he looked at it, it was still fairer than the other two. ‘To-night I will watch here,’ thought he, ‘for whosoever carried off the other corn will in like manner take this, and I will know who it is.’ So he hid himself and waited.The hours slid by, and all was still, so still that Manawyddan well-nigh dropped asleep. But at midnight there arose the loudest tumult in the world, and peeping out he beheld a mighty host of mice, which could neither be numbered nor measured. Each mouse climbed up a straw till it bent down with its weight, and then it bit off one of the ears, and carried it away, and there was not one of the straws that had not got a mouse to it.Full of wrath he rushed at the mice, but he could no more come up with them than if they had been gnats, or birds of the air, save one only which lingered behind the rest, and this mouse Manawyddan came up with. Stooping down he seized it by the tail, and put it in his glove, and tied a piece of string across the opening of the glove, so that the mouse could not escape. When he entered the hall where Kieva was sitting, he lighted a fire, and hung the glove up on a peg.‘What hast thou there?’ asked she.‘A thief,’ he answered, ‘that I caught robbing me.’‘What kind of a thief may it be which thou couldst put in thy glove?’ said Kieva.‘That I will tell thee,’ he replied, and then he showed her how his fields of corn had been wasted, and how he had watched for the mice.‘And one was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove. To-morrow I will hang it, and I only wish I had them all.’‘It is a marvel, truly,’ said she, ‘yet it would be unseemly for a man of thy dignity to hang a reptile such as this. Do not meddle with it, but let it go.’‘Woe betide me,’ he cried, ‘if I would not hang them all if I could catch them, and such as I have I will hang.’‘Verily,’ said she, ‘there is no reason I should succour this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee.’‘If I knew any cause that I should succour it, I would take thy counsel,’ answered Manawyddan, ‘but as I know of none, I am minded to destroy it.’‘Do so then,’ said Kieva.So he went up a hill and set up two forks on the top, and while he was doing this he saw a scholar coming towards him, whose clothes were tattered. Now it was seven years since Manawyddan had seen man or beast in that place, and the sight amazed him.‘Good day to thee, my lord,’ said the scholar.‘Good greeting to thee, scholar. Whence dost thou come?’‘From singing in England; but wherefore dost thou ask?’‘Because for seven years no man hath visited this place.’‘I wander where I will,’ answered the scholar. ‘And what work art thou upon?’‘I am about to hang a thief that I caught robbing me!’‘What manner of thief is that?’ inquired the scholar. ‘I see a creature in thy hand like upon a mouse, and ill does it become a man of thy rank to touch a reptile like this. Let it go free.’‘I will not let it go free,’ cried Manawyddan. ‘I caught it robbing me, and it shall suffer the doom of a thief.’‘Lord!’ said the scholar, ‘sooner than see a man like thee at such a work, I would give thee a pound which I have received as alms to let it go free.’‘I will not let it go free, neither will I sell it.’‘As thou wilt, lord,’ answered the scholar, and he went his way.Manawyddan was placing the cross-beam on the two forked sticks, where the mouse was to hang, when a priest rode past.‘Good-day to thee, lord; and what art thou doing?’‘I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me.’‘What manner of thief, lord?’‘A creature in the form of a mouse. It has been robbing me, and it shall suffer the doom of a thief.’‘Lord,’ said the priest, ‘sooner than see thee touch this reptile, I would purchase its freedom.’‘I will neither sell it nor set it free.’‘It is true that a mouse is worth nothing, but rather than see thee defile thyself with touching such a reptile as this, I will give thee three pounds for it.’‘I will not take any price for it. It shall be hanged as it deserves.’‘Willingly, my lord, if it is thy pleasure.’ And the priest went his way.Then Manawyddan noosed the string about the mouse’s neck, and was about to draw it tight when a bishop, with a great following and horses bearing huge packs, came by.‘What work art thou upon?’ asked the bishop, drawing rein.‘Hanging a thief that I caught robbing me.’‘But is not that a mouse that I see in thine hand?’ asked the bishop.‘Yes; that is the thief,’ answered Manawyddan.‘Well, since I have come at the doom of this reptile, I will ransom it of thee for seven pounds, rather than see a man of thy rank touch it. Loose it, and let it go.’‘I will not let it loose.’‘I will give thee four and twenty pounds to set it free,’ said the bishop.‘I will not set it free for as much again.’‘If thou wilt not set it free for this, I will give thee all the horses thou seest and the seven loads of baggage.’‘I will not set it free.’‘Then tell me at what price thou wilt loose it, and I will give it.’‘The spell must be taken off Rhiannon and Pryderi,’ said Manawyddan.‘That shall be done.’‘But not yet will I loose the mouse. The charm that has been cast over all my lands must be taken off likewise.’‘This shall be done also.’‘But not yet will I loose the mouse till I know who she is.’‘She is my wife,’ answered the bishop.‘And wherefore came she to me?’ asked Manawyddan.‘To despoil thee,’ replied the bishop, ‘for it is I who cast the charm over thy lands, to avenge Gwawl the son of Clud my friend. And it was I who threw the spell upon Pryderi to avenge Gwawl for the trick that had been played on him in the game of Badger in the Bag. And not only was I wroth, but my people likewise, and when it was known that thou wast come to dwell in the land, they besought me much to change them into mice, that they might eat thy corn. The first and the second nights it was the men of my own house that destroyed thy two fields, but on the third night my wife and her ladies came to me and begged me to change them also into the shape of mice, that they might take part in avenging Gwawl. Therefore I changed them. Yet had she not been ill and slow of foot, thou couldst not have overtaken her. Still, since she was caught, I will restore thee Pryderi and Rhiannon, and will take the charm from off thy lands. I have told thee who she is; so now set her free.’‘I will not set her free,’ answered Manawyddan, ’till thou swear that no vengeance shall be taken for his, either upon Pryderi, or upon Rhiannon, or on me.’‘I will grant thee this boon; and thou hast done wisely to ask it, for on thy head would have lit all the trouble. Set now my wife free.’‘I will not set her free till Pryderi and Rhiannon are with me.’‘Behold, here they come,’ said the bishop.Then Manawyddan held out his hands and greeted Pryderi and Rhiannon, and they seated themselves joyfully on the grass.‘Ah, lord, hast thou not received all thou didst ask?’ said the bishop. ‘Set now my wife free!’‘That I will gladly,’ answered Manawyddan, unloosing the cord from her neck, and as he did so the bishop struck her with his staff, and she turned into a young woman, the fairest that ever was seen.‘Look around upon thy land,’ said he, ‘and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled, as it was long ago.’ And Manawyddan looked, and saw corn growing in the fields, and cows and sheep grazing on the hill-side, and huts for the people to dwell in. And he was satisfied in his soul, but one more question he put to the bishop.‘What spell didst thou lay upon Pryderi and Rhiannon?’‘Pryderi has had the knockers of the gate of my palace hung about him, and Rhiannon has carried the collars of my asses around her neck,’ said the bishop with a smile.
Years and years ago, at the very beginning of time, when the world had just been made, there was no night. It was day all the time. No one had ever heard of sunrise or sunset, starlight or moonbeams. There were no night birds, nor night beasts, nor night flowers. There were no lengthening shadows, nor soft night air, heavy with perfume.In those days the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married one of the sons of the great earth race known as Man. She left her home among the shades of the deep seas and came to dwell with her husband in the land of daylight. Her eyes grew weary of the bright sunlight and her beauty faded. Her husband watched her with sad eyes, but he did not know what to do to help her.“O, if night would only come,” she moaned as she tossed about wearily on her couch. “Here it is always day, but in my father’s kingdom there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness of night!”Her husband listened to her moanings. “What is night?” he asked her. “Tell me about it and perhaps I can get a little of it for you.”“Night,” said the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, “is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my father’s kingdom in the depths of the seas. I love the sunlight of your earth land, but I grow very weary of it. If we could have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest our eyes part of the time.”Her husband at once called his three most faithful slaves. “I am about to send you on a journey,” he told them. “You are to go to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent who dwells in the depths of the seas and ask him to give you some of the darkness of night so that his daughter may not die here amid the sunlight of our earth land.”The three slaves set forth for the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent. After a long dangerous journey they arrived at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth land. The Great Sea Serpent gave them a big bag full at once. It was securely fastened and the Great Sea Serpent warned them not to open it until they were once more in the presence of his daughter, their mistress.The three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full of night upon their heads. Soon they heard strange sounds within the bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all the night birds, and all the night insects. If you have ever heard the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers you will know how it sounded. The three slaves had never heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were terribly frightened.“Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are and run away as fast as we can,” said the first slave.“We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we do,” cried the second slave.“Whether we perish or not I am going to open the bag and see what makes all those terrible sounds,” said the third slave.Accordingly they laid the bag on the ground and opened it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of night. The slaves were more frightened than ever at the darkness and escaped to the jungle.The daughter of the Great Sea Serpent was waiting anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. Ever since they had started out on their journey she had looked for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would hasten to bring the night. In that position she was standing under a royal palm tree, when the three slaves opened the bag and let night escape. “Night comes. Night comes at last,” she cried, as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree.When she awoke she felt greatly refreshed. She was once more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in the depths of the great seas to come to the earth land. She was now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright star shining above the royal palm tree and said, “O, bright beautiful star, henceforth you shall be called the morning star and you shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queen of the sky at this hour.”Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, “O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach of day.” The cock was standing by her side. “You,” she said to him, “shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the others that the madrugada comes.” To this very day in Brazil we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest songs at that hour and the morning star reigns in the sky as queen of the madrugada.When it was daylight again, the three slaves crept home through the forests and jungles with their empty bag.“O, faithless slaves,” said their master, “why did you not obey the voice of the Great Sea Serpent and open the bag only in the presence of his daughter, your mistress? Because of your disobedience I shall change you into monkeys. Henceforth you shall live in the trees. Your lips shall always bear the mark of the sealing wax which sealed the bag full of night.”To this very day, one sees the mark upon the monkeys’ lips, where they bit off the wax which sealed the bag; and in Brazil, night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it leapt quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.
‘Dear children,” said a poor man to his four sons, ‘I have nothing to give you; you must go out into the wide world and try your luck. Begin by learning some craft or another, and see how you can get on.’ So the four brothers took their walking-sticks in their hands, and their little bundles on their shoulders, and after bidding their father goodbye, went all out at the gate together. When they had got on some way they came to four crossways, each leading to a different country. Then the eldest said, ‘Here we must part; but this day four years we will come back to this spot, and in the meantime each must try what he can do for himself.’So each brother went his way; and as the eldest was hastening on a man met him, and asked him where he was going, and what he wanted. ‘I am going to try my luck in the world, and should like to begin by learning some art or trade,’ answered he. ‘Then,’ said the man, ‘go with me, and I will teach you to become the cunningest thief that ever was.’ ‘No,’ said the other, ‘that is not an honest calling, and what can one look to earn by it in the end but the gallows?’ ‘Oh!’ said the man, ‘you need not fear the gallows; for I will only teach you to steal what will be fair game: I meddle with nothing but what no one else can get or care anything about, and where no one can find you out.’ So the young man agreed to follow his trade, and he soon showed himself so clever, that nothing could escape him that he had once set his mind upon. The second brother also met a man, who, when he found out what he was setting out upon, asked him what craft he meant to follow. ‘I do not know yet,’ said he. ‘Then come with me, and be a star-gazer. It is a noble art, for nothing can be hidden from you, when once you understand the stars.’ The plan pleased him much, and he soon became such a skilful star-gazer, that when he had served out his time, and wanted to leave his master, he gave him a glass, and said, ‘With this you can see all that is passing in the sky and on earth, and nothing can be hidden from you.’The third brother met a huntsman, who took him with him, and taught him so well all that belonged to hunting, that he became very clever in the craft of the woods; and when he left his master he gave him a bow, and said, ‘Whatever you shoot at with this bow you will be sure to hit.’The youngest brother likewise met a man who asked him what he wished to do. ‘Would not you like,’ said he, ‘to be a tailor?’ ‘Oh, no!’ said the young man; ‘sitting cross-legged from morning to night, working backwards and forwards with a needle and goose, will never suit me.’ ‘Oh!’ answered the man, ‘that is not my sort of tailoring; come with me, and you will learn quite another kind of craft from that.’ Not knowing what better to do, he came into the plan, and learnt tailoring from the beginning; and when he left his master, he gave him a needle, and said, ‘You can sew anything with this, be it as soft as an egg or as hard as steel; and the joint will be so fine that no seam will be seen.’After the space of four years, at the time agreed upon, the four brothers met at the four cross-roads; and having welcomed each other, set off towards their father’s home, where they told him all that had happened to them, and how each had learned some craft.Then, one day, as they were sitting before the house under a very high tree, the father said, ‘I should like to try what each of you can do in this way.’ So he looked up, and said to the second son, ‘At the top of this tree there is a chaffinch’s nest; tell me how many eggs there are in it.’ The star-gazer took his glass, looked up, and said, ‘Five.’ ‘Now,’ said the father to the eldest son, ‘take away the eggs without letting the bird that is sitting upon them and hatching them know anything of what you are doing.’ So the cunning thief climbed up the tree, and brought away to his father the five eggs from under the bird; and it never saw or felt what he was doing, but kept sitting on at its ease. Then the father took the eggs, and put one on each corner of the table, and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman, ‘Cut all the eggs in two pieces at one shot.’ The huntsman took up his bow, and at one shot struck all the five eggs as his father wished.‘Now comes your turn,’ said he to the young tailor; ‘sew the eggs and the young birds in them together again, so neatly that the shot shall have done them no harm.’ Then the tailor took his needle, and sewed the eggs as he was told; and when he had done, the thief was sent to take them back to the nest, and put them under the bird without its knowing it. Then she went on sitting, and hatched them: and in a few days they crawled out, and had only a little red streak across their necks, where the tailor had sewn them together.‘Well done, sons!’ said the old man; ‘you have made good use of your time, and learnt something worth the knowing; but I am sure I do not know which ought to have the prize. Oh, that a time might soon come for you to turn your skill to some account!’Not long after this there was a great bustle in the country; for the king’s daughter had been carried off by a mighty dragon, and the king mourned over his loss day and night, and made it known that whoever brought her back to him should have her for a wife. Then the four brothers said to each other, ‘Here is a chance for us; let us try what we can do.’ And they agreed to see whether they could not set the princess free. ‘I will soon find out where she is, however,’ said the star-gazer, as he looked through his glass; and he soon cried out, ‘I see her afar off, sitting upon a rock in the sea, and I can spy the dragon close by, guarding her.’ Then he went to the king, and asked for a ship for himself and his brothers; and they sailed together over the sea, till they came to the right place. There they found the princess sitting, as the star-gazer had said, on the rock; and the dragon was lying asleep, with his head upon her lap. ‘I dare not shoot at him,’ said the huntsman, ‘for I should kill the beautiful young lady also.’ ‘Then I will try my skill,’ said the thief, and went and stole her away from under the dragon, so quietly and gently that the beast did not know it, but went on snoring.Then away they hastened with her full of joy in their boat towards the ship; but soon came the dragon roaring behind them through the air; for he awoke and missed the princess. But when he got over the boat, and wanted to pounce upon them and carry off the princess, the huntsman took up his bow and shot him straight through the heart so that he fell down dead. They were still not safe; for he was such a great beast that in his fall he overset the boat, and they had to swim in the open sea upon a few planks. So the tailor took his needle, and with a few large stitches put some of the planks together; and he sat down upon these, and sailed about and gathered up all pieces of the boat; and then tacked them together so quickly that the boat was soon ready, and they then reached the ship and got home safe.When they had brought home the princess to her father, there was great rejoicing; and he said to the four brothers, ‘One of you shall marry her, but you must settle amongst yourselves which it is to be.’ Then there arose a quarrel between them; and the star-gazer said, ‘If I had not found the princess out, all your skill would have been of no use; therefore she ought to be mine.’ ‘Your seeing her would have been of no use,’ said the thief, ‘if I had not taken her away from the dragon; therefore she ought to be mine.’ ‘No, she is mine,’ said the huntsman; ‘for if I had not killed the dragon, he would, after all, have torn you and the princess into pieces.’ ‘And if I had not sewn the boat together again,’ said the tailor, ‘you would all have been drowned, therefore she is mine.’ Then the king put in a word, and said, ‘Each of you is right; and as all cannot have the young lady, the best way is for neither of you to have her: for the truth is, there is somebody she likes a great deal better. But to make up for your loss, I will give each of you, as a reward for his skill, half a kingdom.’ So the brothers agreed that this plan would be much better than either quarreling or marrying a lady who had no mind to have them. And the king then gave to each half a kingdom, as he had said; and they lived very happily the rest of their days, and took good care of their father; and somebody took better care of the young lady, than to let either the dragon or one of the craftsmen have her again.
“Mountain Uncle” was the name given by the villagers to a splendid striped tiger that lived among the highlands of Kang Wen, the long province that from its clifl’s overlooks the Sea of !apan. Hunters rarely saw him, and among his fellow tigers the Mountain Uncle boasted that, though often fired at, he had never been wounded; while as for traps —he knew all about them and laughed at the devices used by man to catch him and to strip him of his coveted skin. In summer he kept among the high hills and lived on fat deer. In winter, when heavy snow, bit ing winds, and terrible cold kept human beings within doors, old Mountain Uncle would sally forth to the villages. There he would yrowl around the stables, the cattle enclosures, or the pig -pens, in hopes of clawing and dragging out a young donkey, a fat calf, or a suckling pig. Too often he succeeded, so that he was the terror of the country for leagues around.One day in autumn, Mountain Unde was rambling among the lower hills. Though far from any village, he kept a sharp lookout for traps and hunters, but none seemed to be near. He was very hungry and hoped for game. But on coming round a great rock, Mountain Uncle suddenly saw in his path some feet ahead,as he thought, a big tiger like himself. He stopped, twitched his tail most ferociously as a challenge, showed fight by growling, and got ready to spring. What was his surprise to see the other tiger doing exactly the same things. Mountain Uncle was sure that there would be a terrible struggle, but this was just what he wanted, for he expected of course to win.But after a tremendous leap in the air, he landed in a pit and all of a heap, bruised and disappointed. There was no tiger to be seen, but instead a heavy lid of logs had closed over his head with a crash and he lay in darkness. Old Mountain Uncle at last was caught. Yes, the hunter had concealed the pit with sticks and leaves, and on the upright timbers, covered with vines and brushwood, had hung a bit of looking-glass. Mountain Uncle had often beheld his own face and body in the water, when he stooped to drink, but this time, not seeing any water, he was deceived into thinking a real tiger wanted to fight him.By and by, a Buddhist priest came along, who believed in being kind to all living creatures. Hearing an animal moaning, he opened the trap and lifting the lid saw old MountainUncle at the bottom licking his bruised paw.“Oh, please, Mr. Man, let me get out I’m hurt badly,” said the tiger.Thereupon the priest lifted up one of the logs and slid it down, until it rested on the bottom of the pit. Then the tiger climbed up and out. Old Mountain Uncle expressed his thanks volubly, saying to the shaven head:“I am deeply grateful to you, sir, for helping me out of my trouble. Nevertheless, as I am very hungry, I must eat you up.”The priest, very much surprised and indignant, protested against such vile ingratitude. To say the least, it was very bad manners and entirely against the law of the mountains, and he appealed to a big tree to decide between them. The spirit in the tree spoke through the rustling leaves and declared that the man should go free and that the tiger was both ungrateful an unmannerly.Old Mountain Uncle was not satisfied yet, especially as the priest was unusually fat and would make a very good dinner. However, he allowed the man to appeal once more and this time to a big rock.“The man is certainly right, Venerable Mountain Uncle, and you are wholly wrong,” said the spirit in the rock. “Your master, the Mountain Spirit, who rides on the green bull and the pie- bald horse to punish his enemies, will certainly chastise you if you devour this priest. You will be no fit messenger of the Mountain Lord if you are so ungrateful as to eat the man who saved you from starvation or death in the trap. It is shockingly bad manners even to think of such a thing.”The tiger felt ashamed, but his eyes still glared with hunger;so, to be sure of saving his own skin, the priest proposed to make the toad a judge. The tiger agreed.But the toad, with his gold-rimmed eyes, looked very wise, and instead of answering quickly, as the tree and rock did, deliberated a long time. The priest’s heart sank, while the tiger moved his jaws as if anticipating his feast. He felt sure that Old Speckled Back would decide in his favor.“I must go and see the trap before I can make up my mind,” said the toad, who looked as solemn as a magistrate. So all three leaped, hopped, or walked to the trap. The tiger, moving fast, was there first, which was just what the toad, who was a friend of the priest, wanted. Be- sides, Old Speckled Back was diligently looking for a crack in the rocks near by.So, while the toad and the tiger were studying the matter, the priest ran off and saved himself within the monastery gates. When at last Old Speckled Back decided against Mountain Uncle and in favor of the man, he had no sooner finished his judgment than he hopped into the rock crevice, and, crawling far inside, defied the tiger, calling him an unmannerly brute and an ungrateful beast, and daring him to do his worst.Old Mountain Uncle was so mad with rage and hunger that his craftiness seemed turned into stupidity. He clawed at the rock to pull it open to get at the toad to tear him to pieces. But Speckled Buck, safe within, only laughed. Unable to do any harm, the tiger flew into a rage.The hotter his temper grew, the more he lost his wit. Poking his nose in side the crack, he rubbed it so hard on the rough rock that he soon bled to death. When the hunter came along, he marveled at what he saw, but he was glad to get rich by sell in g the tiger’s fur, bones, and claws; for in Korea nothing sells so well as a tiger. As for the toad, he told to several generations of his descendants the story of how he outwitted the old Mountain Uncle.
Once upon a time there was a shepherd who tended a flock of sheep. He was bothered day after day by a bear who would come along and steal five or six of his sheep. One day, a dervish came by. The shepherd greeted him and told him his tale of woe about the thievish bear. "I'll slay him for you," said the dervish. "I just need three pieces of goat's cheese." The shepherd gave him the cheese and the dervish went off to meet the bear who was on his way as usual to steal some sheep. The dervish pretended that he wanted to make a bet with the bear to find out who was the stronger of the two. The bear said that he was the stronger but the dervish replied, "I can crush you like this rock," put his hand into the basket and took out the first piece of cheese, then the second, and then the third, crushing them all until they were nothing but crumbs. The bear was amazed, picked up a white stone but couldn't crush it as the dervish had done, so the two decided to make friends.
After a while, the bear became hungry and asked the dervish to bring him an ox while he cut wood in the forest. The dervish replied, "You go ahead and get your ox, that's nothing for me. I want a lion." With this trick, the dervish succeeded in not having to get the ox, and went into the forest to cut wood. The bear sauntered off to a herd, seized an ox and heaved it over his shoulder. The dervish went into the forest, took a rope and tied all the trees up into one as if he wanted to pull them all out together. The bear waited for the dervish, but the dervish didn't come, so he went into the forest himself and came upon the dervish who was pretending to pull out all the trees at once. The bear was astounded and thought to himself that the dervish must be a thousand times stronger than he was. He said to the dervish, "What are you going to do with all the trees you're pulling out?" A couple of branches would be enough." The dervish replied: "I'm not the sort of person to take just two pieces of wood. You take them if you want them." The bear immediately broke off two branches and returned to his ox. 
Now the ox had to be roasted. The dervish said to the bear, "I'll go and fetch some water. You turn the meat on the spit, but don't weary yourself." The dervish only said this because he couldn't turn such a huge ox on the spit himself. He took a goatskin bag and went off to the spring at the foot of a cliff. There he filled the goatskin bag and wanted to heave it over his shoulder, but it was so heavy that he couldn't even lift it. The bear waited for an hour, two hours, and finally set off for the spring. When he arrived, he found the dervish and asked, "What are you waiting for?" The dervish replied, "I keep wondering whether I shouldn't bring the whole spring with the cliff, because it fills up so slowly. I would be ashamed of myself to bring back just the goatskin bag, so you carry it." The bear heaved the goatskin bag over his shoulder and they set off. On their way back, the bear said to the dervish, "Let's have a wrestle!" The dervish replied, "What? You can't match your strength with mine." But they wrestled nevertheless. The bear hugged the dervish with such strength that the dervish's eyes bulged out of his head. When the bear saw the dervish's blood red face and his bulging eyes he asked what was wrong. The dervish replied, "Oh nothing, I just don't know what to do. If I throw you to one side, it would cut you to pieces. If I throw you to the other side, it would be even worse." The bear then said to him, "Take pity on me, let me go!" And the dervish let him go. 
They carried on to the place where the ox was roasting and sat down to eat. After a couple of bites, the dervish was full and the bear asked why he ate so little. The dervish replied that he had just eaten a huge mutton on leaving to get the water. Once they had finished their meal, the bear said, "Let's go to my place because we are friends now." When they arrived, the bear ordered his mother and sister to sharpen the axe because he wanted to kill his new friend to get away from him, since the dervish was stronger than he was.
But the bear's sister overheard everything and warned the dervish. After they had finished dinner, they all went off to sleep. But the dervish just pretended to go with them to the place where they slept and instead hid under a donkey's saddle. At midnight the bear got up, took the axe and struck the dervish three or four times with it. Thinking he had killed the dervish, he returned to bed and went back to sleep. At the crack of dawn, the bear went out to gather wood. When he returned he saw the dervish coming out of the house. His eyes opened wide in astonishment and he asked the dervish how he had slept. The dervish declared, "I slept very well, except for a couple of fleas that bit me at midnight." 
The bear was astounded once again that the dervish had felt the axe as if it were a fleabite. It was all too much for him, so he told the dervish what he had done in the middle of the night. He then begged the dervish to make him just as strong as he was. "That's easy," said the dervish, "All I need is some milk." The bear went off to the herd of the shepherd who was sorry indeed to see him come back alive. The bear returned with a goatskin bag full of milk, and on the orders of the dervish he lit a fire and placed a cauldron of milk on it. When the milk began to boil, the dervish said, "Stick your head into it and you'll be strong." The bear stuck his head into the cauldron a first time and burned himself; he stuck his head in a second time and then a third time, whereupon the dervish gave him a kick and he fell into the cauldron and boiled to death.
Thereafter, the dervish return to the shepherd and told him that he had slain the bear. The shepherd didn't know how to repay the dervish and asked him what he would like. But the dervish wanted only a little kid goat and taking it with him, he departed. He spent the night in a valley of wolves. While the dervish was sleeping, a wolf seized the kid goat and gobbled it up. Furious, the dervish took off his trousers and hung them in front of the wolf's den. When the wolf then tried to leave his den, he tangled himself in the trousers. The dervish wrapped the wolf up in the trousers and set off with his bundle. 
He arrived in a village on a Sunday. The priest was just coming out of the church when he saw the stranger and asked him where he had come from and what he wanted. The dervish replied, "I have come here to sell a shepherd. He is very good. He just eats too much. But aside from food, he asks for no wages." The priest asked where he had the shepherd. "Here in my trousers," replied the dervish and gave the trousers to the priest who took them home. The dervish departed leaving the priest his shepherd. The next morning the priest opened his window to see if the new shepherd had already taken the sheep out to pasture. But there was nothing to be seen, because the shepherd, who was of course a wolf, had not left behind a single sheep. The priest went out to the pen where he kept his animals, but there were no more sheep there either. He slung a rifle over his shoulder and set off in search of the dervish.
On his way, the dervish had met up with some thieves who were fighting over how to divide the money they had stolen. When they saw the dervish, they gave him the money to divide. The dervish declared, "I don't like squabbling, so I am going to tie you all to a tree." He took the first thief's money and put it in his pocket, then he took the second thief's money and put it in his pocket, and then he took the money of all the other thieves, put it in his pocket and fled.
A short while later, the priest arrived at the place where the dervish had tied up the thieves. "Has a dervish passed by on this road?" he inquired. "He sold me a shepherd who ate all my sheep." The thieves replied, "He was just here and tied us all up." So they set off with the priest in search of the dervish, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally they went to his house and surprised him there. When the dervish saw them coming, he called all the people in the village. As soon as the villagers heard that the dervish was being attacked, they rushed forth, seized the thieves and the priest and thrashed them to bits.
There was once upon a time a marvellous musician. One day he was wandering through a wood all by himself, thinking now of one thing, now of another, till there was nothing else left to think about. Then he said to himself:`Time hangs very heavily on my hands when I’m all alone in the wood. I must try and find a pleasant companion.’So he took his fiddle out, and fiddled till he woke the echoes round. After a time a wolf came through the thicket and trotted up to the musician.`Oh! it’s a Wolf, is it?’ said he. `I’ve not the smallest wish for his society.’But the Wolf approached him and said:`Oh, my dear musician, how beautifully you play! I wish you’d teach me how it’s done.’`That’s easily learned,’ answered the fiddler; `you must only do exactly as I tell you.’`Of course I will,’ replied the Wolf. `I can promise that you will find me a most apt pupil.’So they joined company and went on their way together, and after a time they came to an old oak tree, which was hollow and had a crack in the middle of the trunk.`Now,’ said the Musician, `if you want to learn to fiddle, here’s your chance. Lay your front paws in this crack.’The Wolf did as he was told, and the Musician quickly seized a stone, and wedged both his fore paws so firmly into the crack that he was held there, a fast prisoner.`Wait there till I return,’ said the Fiddler, and he went on his way.After a time he said to himself again:`Time hangs very heavily on my hands when I’m all alone in the wood; I must try and find a companion.’So he drew out his fiddle, and fiddled away lustily. Presently a fox slunk through the trees.`Aha I what have we here?’ said the Musician. `A fox; well, I haven’t the smallest desire for his company.’The Fox came straight up to him and said:`My dear friend, how beautifully you play the fiddle; I would like to learn how you do it.’`Nothing easier,’ said the Musician. `if you’ll promise to do exactly as I tell you.’`Certainly,’ answered the Fox, `you have only to say the word.’`Well, then, follow me,’ replied the Fiddler.When they had gone a bi of the way, they came to a path with high trees on each side. Here the Musician halted, bent a stout hazel bough down to the ground from one side of the path, and put his foot on the end of it to keep it down. Then he bent a branch down from the other side and said:`Give me your left front paw, my little Fox, if you really wish to learn how it’s done.’The Fox did as he was told, and the Musician tied his front paw to the end of one of the branches.`Now, my friend,’ he said, `give me your right paw.’This he bound to the other branch, and having carefully seen that his knots were all secure, he stepped off the ends of the branches, and they sprang back, leaving the poor Fox suspended in mid-air.`Just you wait where you are till I return,’ said the Musician, and he went on his way again.Once more he said to himself:`Time hangs heavily on my hands when I’m all alone in the wood; I must try and find another companion.’So he took out his fiddle and played as merrily as before. This time a little hare came running up at the sound.`Oh! here comes a hare,’ said the Musician; `I’ve not the smallest desire for his company.’`How beautifully you play, dear Mr. Fiddler,’ said the little Hare. `I wish I could learn how you do it.’`It’s easily learnt,’ answered the Musician; `just do exactly as I tell you.’`That I will,’ said the Hare, `you will find me a most attentive pupil.’They went on a bit together, till they came to a thin part of the wood, where they found an aspen tree growing. The Musician bound a long cord round the little Hare’s neck, the other end of which he fastened to the tree.`Now, my merry little friend,’ said the Musician, `run twenty times round the tree.’The little Hare obeyed, and when it had run twenty times round the tree, the cord had twisted itself twenty times round the trunk, so that the poor little beast was held a fast prisoner, and it might bite and tear as much as it liked, it couldn’t free itself, and the cord only cut its tender neck.`Wait there till I return,’ said the Musician, and went on his way.In the meantime the Wolf had pulled and bitten and scratched at the stone, till at last he succeeded in getting his paws out. Full of anger, he hurried after the Musician, determined when he met him to tear him to pieces. When the Fox saw him running by, he called out as loud as he could:`Brother Wolf, come to my rescue, the Musician has deceived me too.’The Wolf pulled the branches down, bit the cord in two, and set the Fox free. So they went on their way together, both vowing vengeance on the Musician. They found the poor imprisoned little Hare, and having set him free also, they all set out to look for their enemy.During this time the Musician had once more played his fiddle, and had been more fortunate in the result. The sounds pierced to the ears of a poor woodman, who instantly left his work, and with his hatchet under his arm came to listen to the music.`At last I’ve got a proper sort of companion,’ said the Musician, `for it was a human being I wanted all along, and not a wild animal.’And he began playing so enchantingly that the poor man stood there as if bewitched, and his heart leapt for joy as he listened.And as he stood thus, the Wolf and Fox and little Hare came up, and the woodman saw at once that they meant mischief. He lifted his glittering axe and placed himself in front of the Musician, as much as to say: `If you touch a hair of his head, beware, for you will have to answer for it to me.’Then the beasts were frightened, and they all three ran back into the wood, and the Musician played the woodman one of his best tunes, by way of thanks, and then continued his way.
There was once a fisherman of the name of Mahomet, who made a living by catching fish and selling them. One day, being seriously ill and having no hope of recovery, he requested that, after his death, his wife should never reveal to their son that their livelihood had been derived from the sale of fish.The fisherman died; and time passed away until the son reached an age when he should begin to think about an occupation. He tried many things, but in none did he succeed. Soon afterwards his mother also died, and the boy found himself alone in the world and destitute, without food or money. One day he ascended to the lumber-room of the house, hoping to find there something he might be able to sell.During his search he discovered his father’s old fishing-net. The sight of it convinced the youth that his father had been a fisherman; so he took the net and went to the sea. A modest success attended his efforts, for he caught two fish, one of which he sold, purchasing bread and coal with the money. The remaining fish he cooked over the coal he had bought, and having eaten it, he resolved that he would follow the occupation of a fisherman.It happened one day that he caught a fish so fine that it grieved him either to sell it or to eat it. So he took it home, dug a well, and put the fish therein. He went supperless to bed, and being hungry he got up early next morning to catch more fish.When he came home in the evening we may imagine his astonishment at finding that his house had been swept and put in order during his absence. Thinking, however, that he owed it to his neighbours’ kindness, he prayed for them and called down Allah’s blessing upon them.Next morning he rose as usual, cheered himself with a sight of the fish in the well, and went to his daily work. On returning in the evening he found that again everything in the house had been made beautifully clean and tidy. After amusing himself for some time by watching the fish, he went to a coffeehouse where he tried to think who it could be that had put his house in order. His reflective mood was noticed by one of his companions, who asked what he was thinking about. When the youth had told the story his companion inquired where the key was kept, and who remained at home during the fisherman’s absence. The youth informed him that he carried the key with him, and that there was no living creature about except the fish. The companion then advised him to remain at home next day and watch in secret.The youth accordingly went home, and next morning instead of going out, merely made a pretence of doing so. He opened the door and closed it again, then hid himself in the house. All at once he saw the fish jump out of the well and shake itself, when behold! it became a beautiful maiden. The youth quickly seized the fish’s skin, which it had shed, and cast it into the fire. “You should not have done that,” said the maiden reprovingly, “but as it cannot now be helped, it does not matter.”Being thus set free, the maiden consented to become the youth’s wife, and preparations were made for the wedding. All who saw the maiden were bewildered by her beauty and said she was worthy to become the bride of a Padishah. This news reaching the ears of the Padishah, he ordered her to be brought before him. When he saw her he fell in love with her instantly, and determined to marry her.Therefore he sent for the youth, and said to him: “If in forty days you can build me a palace of gold and diamonds in the middle of the sea, I will not deprive you of the girl; but if you fail, I shall take her away.” The youth went home very sadly and wept. “Why do you weep?” asked the maiden. He told her what the Padishah had commanded, but she said cheerfully: “Do not weep; we shall manage it. Go to the spot where you caught me as a fish and cast in a stone. An Arab will appear and utter the words ‘your command?’ Tell him the lady sends her compliments and requests a cushion. He will give you one take it, and cast it into the sea where the Padishah wishes his palace built. Then return home.”The youth followed all these instructions, and next day, when they looked toward the place where the cushion had been thrown into the sea, they saw a palace even more beautiful than that the Padishah had described. Rejoicing, they hastened to tell the monarch that his palace was an accomplished fact.Now the Padishah demanded a bridge of crystal. Again the youth went home and wept. When the maiden heard the cause of his new grief she said: “Go to the Arab as before, and ask him for a bolster. When you get it, cast it in the sea before the palace.” The youth did as he was counselled, and looking round, he saw a beautiful bridge of crystal. He went directly to the Padishah and told him that the task was fulfilled.As a third test, the Padishah now demanded that the youth should prepare such a feast that every one in the land might eat thereof and yet something should remain over. The young fisherman went home, and while he was absorbed in thought the maiden inquired what was the matter. On hearing of the new command she advised: “Go to the Arab and ask him for the coffee-mill, but take care not to turn it on the way.” The youth obtained the coffee-mill from the Arab without any difficulty. In bringing it home he began quite unconsciously to turn it, and seven or eight plates of food fell out. Picking them up, he proceeded homewards.On the appointed day every one in the land, in accordance with the Padishah’s invitation, repaired to the fisherman’s house to take part in the feast. Each guest ate as much as he wanted, and yet in the end a considerable portion of food remained over.Still obdurate, the Padishah ordered the youth to produce a mule from an egg. The youth described to the maiden his latest task, and she told him to fetch three eggs from the Arab and bring them home without breaking them. He ob tamed the eggs, but on his way back dropped one and broke it. Out of the egg sprang a great mule, which after running to and fro finally plunged into the sea and was seen no more.The youth arrived home safely with the two remaining eggs. “Where is the third?” asked the maiden. “It is broken,” replied the youth.“You ought to have been more careful,” said the maiden, “but as it is done it can’t be helped.” The youth carried the eggs to the Padishah, and asked permission to mount upon a bench. This being granted, he stood on the bench and threw up the egg. Instantly a mule sprang forth and fell upon the Padishah, who sought in vain to flee. The youth rescued the monarch from his danger, and the mule then ran away and plunged into the sea.In despair at his inability to find an impossible task for the youth, the Padishah now demanded an infant not more than a day old, who could both speak and walk. Still undaunted,, the maiden counselled the youth to go to the Arab with her compliments, and inform him that she wished to see his baby nephew. The youth accordingly summoned the Arab, and delivered the message. The Arab answered: “He is but an hour old: his mother may not wish to spare him. However, wait a bit, and I will do my best.”To be brief, the Arab went away and soon reappeared with a newly born infant. No sooner did it see the fisherman than it ran up to him and exclaimed: “We are going to Auntie’s, are we not?” The youth took the child home, and immediately it saw the maiden, with the word “Auntie!” it embraced her. On this the youth took the child to the Padishah.When the child was brought into the presence of the monarch, it stepped up to him, struck him on the face, and thus addressed him: “How is it possible to build a palace of gold and diamonds in forty days? To rear a crystal bridge also in the same time? For one man to feed all the people in the land? For a mule to be produced from an egg?” At every sentence the child struck him a fresh blow, until finally the Padishah cried to the youth that he might keep the maiden himself if only he would deliver him from the terrible infant. The youth then carried the child home. He wedded the maiden, and the rejoicings lasted forty days and forty nights.Three apples fell from the sky: one belongs to me, another to Husni, the third to the storyteller. Which belongs to me?
A young Hound started a Hare, and, when he caught her up, would at one moment snap at her with his teeth as though he were about to kill her, while at another he would let go his hold and frisk about her, as if he were playing with another dog. At last the Hare said, “I wish you would show yourself in your true colours! If you are my friend, why do you bite me? If you are my enemy, why do you play with me?”He is no friend who plays double.
It was in the month of May. The wind still blew cold, but bushes and trees, field and meadow, all alike said the spring had come. There was store of flowers even in the wild hedges; and there spring carried on his affairs, and preached from a little apple tree, where one branch hung fresh and blooming, covered with delicate pink blossoms that were just ready to open. The apple tree branch knew well enough how beautiful he was, for the knowledge is inherent in the leaf as well as in the blood; and consequently the branch was not surprised when a nobleman’s carriage stopped opposite to him on the road, and the young countess said that an apple branch was the loveliest thing one could behold, a very emblem of spring in its most charming form. And the branch was most carefully broken off, and she held it in her delicate hand, and sheltered it with her silk parasol. Then they drove to the castle, where there were lofty halls and splendid apartments. Pure white curtains fluttered round the open windows, and beautiful flowers stood in shining transparent vases; and in one of these, which looked as if it had been cut out of fresh-fallen snow, the apple branch was placed among some fresh light twigs of beech. It was charming to behold.But the branch became proud; and this was quite like human nature.People of various kinds came through the room, and according to their rank they might express their admiration. A few said nothing at all, and others again said too much, and the apple tree branch soon got to understand that there was a difference among plants. “Some are created for beauty, and some for use; and there are some which one can do without altogether,” thought the apple branch; and as he stood just in front of the open window, from whence he could see into the garden and across the fields, he had flowers and plants enough to contemplate and to think about, for there were rich plants and humble plants—some very humble indeed.“Poor despised herbs!” said the apple branch. “There is certainly a difference! And how unhappy they must feel, if indeed that kind can feel like myself and my equals. Certainly there is a difference, and distinctions must be made, or we should all be equal.”And the apple branch looked down with a species of pity, especially upon a certain kind of flower of which great numbers are found in the fields and in ditches. No one bound them into a nosegay, they were too common; for they might be found even among the paving-stones, shooting up everywhere like the rankest weeds, and they had the ugly name of “dandelion,” or “dog-flower.”“Poor despised plants!” said the apple branch. “It is not your fault that you received the ugly name you bear. But it is with plants as with men—there must be a difference!”“A difference?” said the sunbeam; and he kissed the blooming apple branch, and saluted in like manner the yellow dandelions out in the field—all the brothers of the sunbeam kissed them, the poor flowers as well as the rich.Now the apple branch had never thought of the boundless beneficence of Providence in creation towards everything that lives and moves and has its being; he had never thought how much that is beautiful and good may be hidden, but not forgotten; but that, too, was quite like human nature.“The dandelion,” replied the apple branch. “It is never received into a nosegay; it is trodden under foot. There are too many of them; and when they run to seed, they fly away like little pieces of wool over the roads, and hang and cling to people’s dress. They are nothing but weeds—but it is right there should be weeds too. Oh, I’m really very thankful that I was not created one of those flowers.”But there came across the fields a whole troop of children; the youngest of whom was so small that it was carried by the rest, and when it was set down in the grass among the yellow flowers it laughed aloud with glee, kicked out with its little legs, rolled about and plucked the yellow flowers, and kissed them in its pretty innocence. The elder children broke off the flowers with their tall stalks, and bent the stalks round into one another, link by link, so that a whole chain was made; first a necklace, and then a scarf to hang over their shoulders and tie round their waists, and then a chaplet to wear on the head: it was quite a gala of green links and yellow flowers. The eldest children carefully gathered the stalks on which hung the white feathery ball, formed by the flower that had run to seed; and this loose, airy wool-flower, which is a beautiful object, looking like the finest snowy down, they held to their mouths, and tried to blow away the whole head at one breath: for their grandmother had said that whoever could do this would be sure to get new clothes before the year was out. So on this occasion the despised flower was actually raised to the rank of a prophet or augur.“Do you see?” said the sunbeam. “Do you see the beauty of those flowers? do you see their power?”“Yes, over children,” replied the apple branch.And now an old woman came into the field, and began to dig with a blunt shaftless knife round the root of the dandelion plant, and pulled it up out of the ground. With some of the roots she intended to make tea for herself; others she was going to sell for money to the druggist.“But beauty is a higher thing!” said the apple tree branch. “Only the chosen few can be admitted into the realm of beauty. There is a difference among plants, just as there is a difference among men.”And then the sunbeam spoke of the boundless love of the Creator, as manifested in the creation, and of the just distribution of things in time and in eternity.“Yes, yes, that is your opinion,” the apple branch persisted.But now some people came into the room, and the beautiful young countess appeared, the lady who had placed the apple branch in the transparent vase in the sunlight. She carried in her hand a flower, or something of the kind. The object, whatever it might be, was hidden by three or four great leaves, wrapped around it like a shield, that no draught or gust of wind should injure it; and it was carried more carefully than the apple bough had ever been. Very gently the large leaves were now removed, and lo, there appeared the fine feathery seed crown of the despised dandelion! This it was that the lady had plucked with the greatest care, and had carried home with every precaution, so that not one of the delicate feathery darts that form its downy ball should be blown away. She now produced it, quite uninjured, and admired its beautiful form, its peculiar construction, and its airy beauty, which was to be scattered by the wind.“Look, with what singular beauty Providence has invested it,” she said. “I will paint it, together with the apple branch, whose beauty all have admired; but this humble flower has received just as much from Heaven in a different way; and, various as they are, both are children of the kingdom of beauty.”And the sunbeam kissed the humble flower, and he kissed the blooming apple branch, whose leaves appeared covered with a roseate blush.
‘Phew!’ cried Lisa.‘Ugh!’ cried Aina.‘What now?’ cried the big sister.‘A worm!’ cried Lisa.‘On the raspberry!’ cried Aina.‘Kill it!’ cried Otto.‘What a fuss over a poor little worm!’ said the big sister scornfully.‘Yes, when we had cleaned the raspberries so carefully,’ said Lisa.‘It crept out from that very large one,’ put in Aina.‘And supposing someone had eaten the raspberry,’ said Lisa.‘Then they would have eaten the worm, too,’ said Aina.‘Well, what harm?’ said Otto.‘Eat a worm!’ cried Lisa.‘And kill him with one bite!’ murmured Aina.‘Just think of it!’ said Otto laughing.‘Now it is crawling on the table,’ cried Aina again.‘Blow it away!’ said the big sister.‘Tramp on it!’ laughed Otto.But Lisa took a raspberry leaf, swept the worm carefully on to the leaf and carried it out into the yard. Then Aina noticed that a sparrow sitting on the fence was just ready to pounce on the poor little worm, so she took up the leaf, carried it out into the wood and hid it under a raspberry bush where the greedy sparrow could not find it. Yes, and what more is there to tell about a raspberry worm? Who would give three straws for such a miserable little thing? Yes, but who would not like to live in such a pretty home as it lives in; in such a fresh fragrant dark- red cottage, far away in the quiet wood among flowers and green leaves!Now it was just dinner time, so they all had a dinner of raspberries and cream. ‘Be careful with the sugar, Otto,’ said the big sister; but Otto’s plate was like a snowdrift in winter, with just a little red under the snow.Soon after dinner the big sister said: ‘Now we have eaten up the raspberries and we have none left to make preserve for the winter; it would be fine if we could get two baskets full of berries, then we could clean them this evening, and to-morrow we could cook them in the big preserving pan, and then we should have raspberry jam to eat on our bread!’‘Come, let us go to the wood and pick,’ said Lisa.‘Yes, let us,’ said Aina. ‘You take the yellow basket and I will take the green one.’‘Don’t get lost, and come back safely in the evening,’ said the big sister.‘Greetings to the raspberry worm,’ said Otto, mockingly. ‘Next time I meet him I shall do him the honour of eating him up.’So Aina and Lisa went off to the wood. Ah! how delightful it was there, how beautiful! It was certainly tiresome sometimes climbing over the fallen trees, and getting caught in the branches, and waging war with the juniper bushes and the midges, but what did that matter? The girls climbed well in their short dresses, and soon they were deep in the wood.There were plenty of bilberries and elder berries, but no raspberries. They wandered on and on, and at last they came … No, it could not be true! … they came to a large raspberry wood. The wood had been on fire once, and now raspberry bushes had grown up, and there were raspberry bushes and raspberry bushes as far as the eye could see. Every bush was weighted to the ground with the largest, dark red, ripe raspberries, such a wealth of berries as two little berry pickers had never found before!Lisa picked, Aina picked. Lisa ate, Aina ate, and in a little while their baskets were full.‘Now we shall go home,’ said Aina. ‘No, let us gather a few more,’ said Lisa. So they put the baskets down on the ground and began to fill their pinafores, and it was not long before their pinafores were full, too.‘Now we shall go home,’ said Lina. ‘Yes, now we shall go home,’ said Aina. Both girls took a basket in one hand and held up her apron in the other and then turned to go home. But that was easier said than done. They had never been so far in the great wood before, they could not find any road nor path, and soon the girls noticed that they had lost their way.The worst of it was that the shadows of the tress were becoming so long in the evening sunlight, the birds were beginning to fly home, and the day was closing in. At last the sun went down behind the pine tops, and it was cool and dusky in the great wood.The girls became anxious but went steadily on, expecting that the wood would soon end, and that they would see the smoke from the chimneys of their home.After they had wandered on for a long time it began to grow dark. At last they reached a great plain overgrown with bushes, and when they looked around them, they saw, as much as they could in the darkness, that they were among the same beautiful raspberry bushes from which they had picked their baskets and their aprons full. Then they were so tired that they sat down on a stone and began to cry.‘I am so hungry,’ said Lisa.‘Yes,’ said Aina, ‘if we had only two good meat sandwiches now.’As she said that, she felt something in her hand, and when she looked down, she saw a large sandwich of bread and chicken, and at the same time Lisa said: ‘How very queer! I have a sandwich in my hand.’‘And I, too,’ said Aina. ‘Will you dare to eat it?’‘Of course I will,’ said Lisa. ‘Ah, if we only had a good glass of milk now!’Just as she said that she felt a large glass of milk between her fingers, and at the same time Aina cried out, ‘Lisa! Lisa! I have a glass of milk in my hand! Isn’t it queer?’The girls, however, were very hungry, so they ate and drank with a good appetite. When they had finished Aina yawned, stretched out her arms and said: ‘Oh, if only we had a nice soft bed to sleep on now!’Scarcely had she spoken before she felt a nice soft bed by her side, and there beside Lisa was one too. This seemed to the girls more and more wonderful, but tired and sleepy as they were, they thought no more about it, but crept into the little beds, drew the coverlets over their heads and were soon asleep.When they awoke the sun was high in the heavens, the wood was beautiful in the summer morning, and the birds were flying about in the branches and the tree tops.At first the girls were filled with wonder when they saw that they had slept in the wood among the raspberry bushes. They looked at each other, they looked at their beds, which were of the finest flax covered over with leaves and moss. At last Lisa said: ‘Are you awake, Aina?’‘Yes,’ said Aina.‘But I am still dreaming,’ said Lisa.‘No,’ said Aina, ‘but there is certainly some good fairy living among these raspberry bushes. Ah, if we had only a hot cup of coffee now, and a nice piece of white bread to dip into it!’Scarcely had she finished speaking when she saw beside her a little silver tray with a gilt coffee-pot, two cups of rare porcelain, a sugar basin of fine crystal, silver sugar tongs, and some good fresh white bread. The girls poured out the beautiful coffee, put in the cream and sugar, and tasted it; never in their lives had they drunk such beautiful coffee.‘Now I should like to know very much who has given us all this,’ said Lisa gratefully.‘I have, my little girls,’ said a voice just then from the bushes.The children looked round wonderingly, and saw a little kind- looking old man, in a white coat and a red cap, limping out from among the bushes, for he was lame in his left foot; neither Lisa nor Aina could utter a word, they were so filled with surprise.‘Don’t be afraid, little girls,’ he said smiling kindly at them; he could not laugh properly because his mouth was crooked. ‘Welcome to my kingdom! Have you slept well and eaten well and drunk well?’ he asked.‘Yes, indeed we have,’ said both the girls, ‘but tell us …’ and they wanted to ask who the old man was, but were afraid to.‘I will tell you who I am,’ said the old man; ‘I am the raspberry king, who reigns over all this kingdom of raspberry bushes, and I have lived here for more than a thousand years. But the great spirit who rules over the woods, and the sea, and the sky, did not want me to become proud of my royal power and my long life. Therefore he decreed that one day in every hundred years I should change into a little raspberry worm, and live in that weak and helpless form from sunrise to sunset. During that time my life is dependent on the little worm’s life, so that a bird can eat me, a child can pick me with the berries and trample under foot my thousand years of life. Now yesterday was just my transformation day, and I was taken with the raspberry and would have been trampled to death if you had not saved my life. Until sunset I lay helpless in the grass, and when I was swept away from your table I twisted one of my feet, and my mouth became crooked with terror; but when evening came and I could take my own form again, I looked for you to thank you and reward you. Then I found you both here in my kingdom, and tried to meet you both as well as I could without frightening you. Now I will send a bird from my wood to show you the way home. Good-bye, little children, thank you for your kind hearts; the raspberry king can show that he is not ungrateful.’ The children shook hands with the old man and thanked him, feeling very glad that they had saved the little raspberry worm. They were just going when the old man turned round, smiled mischievously with his crooked mouth, and said: ‘Greetings to Otto from me, and tell him when I meet him again I shall do him the honour of eating him up.’‘Oh, please don’t do that,’ cried both the girls, very frightened.‘Well, for your sake I will forgive him,’ said the old man, ‘I am not revengeful. Greetings to Otto and tell him that he may expect a gift from me, too. Good-bye.’The two girls, light of heart, now took their berries and ran off through the wood after the bird; and soon it began to get lighter in the wood and they wondered how they could have lost their way yesterday, it seemed so easy and plain now.One can imagine what joy there was when the two reached home. Everyone had been looking for them, and the big sister had not been able to sleep, for she thought the wolves had eaten them up.Otto met them; he had a basket in his hand and said: ‘Look, here is something that an old man has just left for you.’When the girls looked into the basket they saw a pair of most beautiful bracelets of precious stones, dark red, and made in the shape of a ripe raspberry and with an inscription: ‘To Lisa and Aina’; beside them there was a diamond breast pin in the shape of a raspberry worm: on it was inscribed ‘Otto, never destroy the helpless!’Otto felt rather ashamed: he quite understood what it meant, but he thought that the old man’s revenge was a noble one.The raspberry king had also remembered the big sister, for when she went in to set the table for dinner, she found eleven big baskets of most beautiful raspberries, and no one knew how they had come there, but everyone guessed.And so there was such a jam-making as had never been seen before, and if you like to go and help in it, you might perhaps get a little, for they must surely be making jam still to this very day.
When Manuniti had concluded his story of the wonderful mango-fruit, king Alakesa ordered his four ministers to approach the throne, and then, with an angry countenance he thus addressed Bodhaditya:—“What excuse have you for entering my bedchamber without permission, thus violating the rules of the harem?”Bodhaditya humbly begged leave to relate to his majesty a story of how a Brâhmaṇ fed a hungry traveller and had afterwards to endure the infamy of having caused that traveller’s death, and on king Alakesa signifying his consent, he thus began:—Story of the Poisoned Food.There was a city called Vijayanagara, to the north of which flowed a small river with mango topes(clumps of trees) on both banks. One day a young Brâhmiṇ pilgrim came and sat down to rest by the side of the stream, and, finding the place very cool and shady, he resolved to bathe, perform his religious ablutions, and make his dinner off the rice which he carried tied up in a bundle.Three days before there had come to the same spot an old Brâhmiṇ whose years numbered more than three score and ten; he had quarrelled with his family, and had fled from his house to die. Since he had reached that place he had tasted no food, and the young pilgrim found him lying in a pitiable state, and placed near him a portion of his rice. The old man arose, and proceeded to the rivulet in order to wash his feet and hands, and pronounce a holy incantation or two before tasting the food.While thus engaged a kite, carrying in its beak a huge serpent, alighted upon the tree at the foot of which was the rice given by the pilgrim to the old man, and while the bird was feasting on the serpent some of its poison dropped on the rice, and the old Brâhmiṇ, in his hunger, did not observe it on his return; he greedily devoured some of the rice, and instantly fell down dead.The young pilgrim, seeing him prostrate on the ground, ran to help him, but found that life was gone; and concluding that the old man’s hasty eating after his three days’ fast must have caused his death, and being unwilling to leave his corpse to be devoured by kites and jackals, he determined to cremate it before resuming his journey. With this object he ran to the neighbouring village, and, reporting to the people what had occurred on the tope, requested their assistance in cremating the old man’s body.The villagers, however, suspected that the young pilgrim had killed and robbed the old Brâhmiṇ; so they laid hold of him, and, after giving him a severe flogging, imprisoned him in the village temple of Kâlî. Alas! what a reward was this for his kind hospitality! and how was he repaid for his beneficence!The unhappy pilgrim gave vent to his sorrows in the form of verses in praise of the goddess in whose temple he was a prisoner; for he was a great Paṇḍit, versed in the four Vêdas, and the six Śâstras, and the sixty-four varieties of knowledge. On hearing the pilgrim’s verses, the rage of the goddess descended upon the villagers, who had so rashly accused and punished him for a crime of which he was innocent. Suddenly the whole village was destroyed by fire, and the people lost all their property, and were houseless. In their extremity they went to the temple of Kâlî, and humbly requested the goddess to inform them of the cause of the calamity which had thus unexpectedly come upon them. The goddess infused herself into the person of one of the villagers, and thus responded:—“Know ye, unkind villagers, that ye have most unjustly scourged and imprisoned in our presence an innocent, charitable, and pious Brâhmiṇ. The old man died from the effects of the poison, which dropped from a serpent’s mouth on some rice at the foot of a tree when it was being devoured by a kite. Ye did not know of this; nevertheless ye have maltreated a good man without first making due inquiry as to his guilt or innocence. For this reason we visited your village with this calamity. Beware, and henceforward avoid such sins.”So saying, Kâlî departed from the person through whom she had manifested herself. Then the villagers perceived the grievous error into which they had fallen. They released the good pilgrim and implored his forgiveness, which he readily granted. And thus was an innocent man charged with murder in return for his benevolent actions.“Even so,” continued Bodhaditya, “my most noble sovereign, I have this day had to endure the infamy of having violated the harem for saving your valuable life.”He then sent for a thief who was undergoing imprisonment, and gave him the handful of rice which he had the preceding day snatched from the king at dinner, and the thief having eaten it, instantly died. He next caused a servant to go to the royal bed-chamber, and fetch from the canopy of the couch the pieces of the serpent and his little finger-tip, which he laid before the wonder-struck king and the counsellors, and then addressed his majesty as follows:—“My most noble king, and ye wise counsellors, it is known to you all that we four ministers keep watch over the town during the four quarters of the night, and mine is the first watch. Well, while I was on duty the day before yesterday, I heard a weeping voice in the direction of the temple. I proceeded to the spot, and discovered the goddess sobbing bitterly. She related to me how three calamities awaited the king on the morrow. The first of them was the arrows despatched by the king of Vijayanagara as sweetmeats to our Sovereign; the second was the poisoned rice, and the third the serpent. In trying to avert these calamities, I have committed the offence of entering the harem.”And he thereupon explained the whole affair from first to last.King Alakesa and the whole assembly were highly delighted at the fidelity and devotion of Bodhaditya; for it was now very evident that he had done nothing amiss, but had saved the life of the king on three occasions, and indeed also the life of the queen by wiping off the serpent’s poison which had fallen on her bosom. Then Alakesa related the following story in explanation of the proverb:—Next: VII.Eating up the Protector
Little brother took his little sister by the hand and said, “Since our mother died we have had no happiness; our step-mother beats us every day, and if we come near her she kicks us away with her foot. Our meals are the hard crusts of bread that are left over; and the little dog under the table is better off, for she often throws it a nice bit. May Heaven pity us. If our mother only knew! Come, we will go forth together into the wide world.”They walked the whole day over meadows, fields, and stony places; and when it rained the little sister said, “Heaven and our hearts are weeping together.” In the evening they came to a large forest, and they were so weary with sorrow and hunger and the long walk, that they lay down in a hollow tree and fell asleep.The next day when they awoke, the sun was already high in the sky, and shone down hot into the tree. Then the brother said, “Sister, I am thirsty; if I knew of a little brook I would go and just take a drink; I think I hear one running.” The brother got up and took the little sister by the hand, and they set off to find the brook.But the wicked step-mother was a witch, and had seen how the two children had gone away, and had crept after them privily, as witches do creep, and had bewitched all the brooks in the forest. Now when they found a little brook leaping brightly over the stones, the brother was going to drink out of it, but the sister heard how it said as it ran, “Who drinks of me will be a tiger; who drinks of me will be a tiger.”Then the sister cried, “Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a wild beast, and tear me to pieces.”The brother did not drink, although he was so thirsty, but said, “I will wait for the next spring.”When they came to the next brook, the sister heard this also say, “Who drinks of me will be a wolf; who drinks of me will be a wolf.” Then the sister cried out, “Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a wolf, and devour me.”The brother did not drink, and said, “I will wait until we come to the next spring, but then I must drink, say what you like; for my thirst is too great.”And when they came to the third brook the sister heard how it said as it ran, “Who drinks of me will be a roebuck; who drinks of me will be a roebuck.” *The sister said, “Oh, I pray you, dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a roebuck, and run away from me.” But the brother had knelt down at once by the brook, and had bent down and drunk some of the water, and as soon as the first drops touched his lips he lay there a young roebuck.“Little brother and sister.” Illustration by Elizabeth MacKinstry. Published in The Fairy By Kate Douglas Wiggins Smith & Nora Archibald Smith. 1906. Doubleday, Duran and Co.And now the sister wept over her poor bewitched brother, and the little roebuck wept also, and sat sorrowfully near to her. But at last the girl said, “Be quiet, dear little roebuck, I will never, never leave you.”Then she untied her golden garter and put it round the roebuck neck, and she plucked rushes and wove them into a soft cord. With this she tied the little beast and led it on, and she walked deeper and deeper into the forest.And when they had gone a very long way they came at last to a little house, and the girl looked in; and as it was empty, she thought, “We can stay here and live.”Then she sought for leaves and moss to make a soft bed for the roebuck; and every morning she went out and gathered roots and berries and nuts for herself, and brought tender grass for the roebuck, who ate out of her hand, and was content and played round about her. In the evening, when the sister was tired, and had said her prayer, she laid her head upon the roebuck’s neck: that was her pillow, and she slept softly on it. And if only the brother had had his human form it would have been a delightful life.For some time they were alone like this in the wilderness. But it happened that the King of the country held a great hunt in the forest. Then the blasts of the horns, the barking of dogs, and the merry shouts of the huntsmen rang through the trees, and the roebuck heard all, and was only too anxious to be there.“Oh,” said he to his sister, “let me be off to the hunt, I cannot bear it any longer;” and he begged so much that at last she agreed.“But,” said she to him, “come back to me in the evening; I must shut my door for fear of the rough huntsmen, so knock and say, “My little sister, let me in!” that I may know you; and if you do not say that, I shall not open the door.” Then the roebuck sprang away; so happy was he and so merry in the open air.The King and the huntsmen saw the pretty creature, and started after him, but they could not catch him, and when they thought that they surely had him, away he sprang through the bushes and could not be seen. When it was dark he ran to the cottage, knocked, and said, “My little sister, let me in.” Then the door was opened for him, and he jumped in, and rested himself the whole night through upon his soft bed.The next day the hunt went on afresh, and when the roebuck again heard the bugle-horn, and the ho! ho! of the huntsmen, he had no peace, but said, “Sister, let me out, I must be off.” His sister opened the door for him, and said, “But you must be here again in the evening and say your password.”When the King and his huntsmen again saw the young roebuck with the golden collar, they all chased him, but he was too quick and nimble for them. This went on for the whole day, but at last by the evening the huntsmen had surrounded him, and one of them wounded him a little in the foot, so that he limped and ran slowly.Then a hunter crept after him to the cottage and heard how he said, “My little sister, let me in,” and saw that the door was opened for him, and was shut again at once. The huntsman took notice of it all, and went to the King and told him what he had seen and heard. Then the King said, “Tomorrow we will hunt once more.”The little sister, however, was dreadfully frightened when she saw that her fawn was hurt. She washed the blood off him, laid herbs on the wound, and said, “Go to your bed, dear roebuck, that you may get well again.”But the wound was so slight that the roebuck, next morning, did not feel it any more. And when he again heard the sport outside, he said, “I cannot bear it, I must be there; they shall not find it so easy to catch me.”The sister cried, and said, “This time they will kill you, and here am I alone in the forest and forsaken by all the world. I will not let you out.” “Then you will have me die of grief,” answered the roebuck; “when I hear the bugle-horns I feel as if I must jump out of my skin.” Then the sister could not do otherwise, but opened the door for him with a heavy heart, and the roebuck, full of health and joy, bounded into the forest.When the King saw him, he said to his huntsmen, “Now chase him all day long till nightfall, but take care that no one does him any harm.”As soon as the sun had set, the King said to the huntsman, “Now come and show me the cottage in the wood;” and when he was at the door, he knocked and called out, “Dear little sister, let me in.” Then the door opened, and the King walked in, and there stood a maiden more lovely than any he had ever seen.The maiden was frightened when she saw, not her little roebuck, but a man come in who wore a golden crown upon his head. But the King looked kindly at her, stretched out his hand, and said, “Will you go with me to my palace and be my dear wife?”“Yes, indeed,” answered the maiden, “but the little roebuck must go with me, I cannot leave him.” The King said, “It shall stay with you as long as you live, and shall want nothing.” Just then he came running in, and the sister again tied him with the cord of rushes, took it in her own hand, and went away with the King from the cottage.The King took the lovely maiden upon his horse and carried her to his palace, where the wedding was held with great pomp. She was now the Queen, and they lived for a long time happily together; the roebuck was tended and cherished, and ran about in the palace-garden.But the wicked step-mother, because of whom the children had gone out into the world, thought all the time that the sister had been torn to pieces by the wild beasts in the wood, and that the brother had been shot for a roebuck by the huntsmen. Now when she heard that they were so happy, and so well off, envy and hatred rose in her heart and left her no peace, and she thought of nothing but how she could bring them again to misfortune. Her own daughter, who was as ugly as night, and had only one eye, grumbled at her and said, “A Queen! That ought to have been my luck.”“Only be quiet,” answered the old woman, and comforted her by saying, “when the time comes I shall be ready.”As time went on, the Queen had a pretty little boy, and it happened that the King was out hunting; so the old witch took the form of the chamber-maid, went into the room where the Queen lay, and said to her, “Come, the bath is ready; it will do you good, and give you fresh strength; make haste before it gets cold.”The daughter also was close by; so they carried the weakly Queen into the bath-room, and put her into the bath; then they shut the door and ran away. But in the bathroom they had made a fire of such deadly heat that the beautiful young Queen was soon suffocated.When this was done, the old woman took her daughter, put a nightcap on her head, and laid her in bed in place of the Queen. She gave her too the shape and the look of the Queen, only she could not make good the lost eye. But in order that the King might not see it, she was to lie on the side on which she had no eye.In the evening when he came home and heard that he had a son he was heartily glad, and was going to the bed of his dear wife to see how she was. But the old woman quickly called out, “For your life leave the curtains closed; the Queen ought not to see the light yet, and must have rest.” The King went away, and did not find out that a false Queen was lying in the bed.But at midnight, when all slept, the nurse, who was sitting in the nursery by the cradle, and who was the only person awake, saw the door open and the true Queen walk in. She took the child out of the cradle, laid it on her arm, and suckled it. Then she shook up its pillow, laid the child down again, and covered it with the little quilt. And she did not forget the roebuck, but went into the corner where it lay, and stroked its back. Then she went quite silently out of the door again. The next morning the nurse asked the guards whether any one had come into the palace during the night, but they answered, “No, we have seen no one.”She came thus many nights and never spoke a word: the nurse always saw her, but she did not dare to tell any one about it.When some time had passed in this manner, the Queen began to speak in the night, and said“How fares my child, how fares my roe?Twice shall I come, then never more.”The nurse did not answer, but when the Queen had gone again, went to the King and told him all. The King said, “Ah, heavens! what is this? To-morrow night I will watch by the child.” In the evening he went into the nursery, and at midnight the Queen again appeared and said“How fares my child, how fares my roe?Once will I come, then never more.”And she nursed the child as she was to do before she disappeared. The King dared not speak to her, but on the next night he watched again. Then she said“How fares my child, how fares my roe?This time I come, then never more.”Then the King could not restrain himself; he sprang towards her, and said, “You can be none other than my dear wife.” She answered, “Yes, I am your dear wife,” and at the same moment she received life again, and by God’s grace became fresh, rosy, and full of health.Then she told the King the evil deed which the wicked witch and her daughter had been guilty of towards her. The King ordered both to be led before the judge, and judgment was delivered against them. The daughter was taken into the forest where she was torn to pieces by wild beasts, but the witch was cast into the fire and miserably burnt. And as soon as she was burnt, the roebuck changed his shape, and received his human form again, so the sister and brother lived happily together all their lives.* The roe is a deer that lives in Europe. A roebuck is a male of this deer species.
“This,” said old Peter, “is a story against wanting more than enough.”Long ago, near the shore of the blue sea, an old man lived with his old woman in a little old hut made of earth and moss and logs. They never had a rouble to spend. A rouble! they never had a kopeck. They just lived there in the little hut, and the old man caught fish out of the sea in his old net, and the old woman cooked the fish; and so they lived, poorly enough in summer and worse in winter. Sometimes they had a few fish to sell, but not often. In the summer evenings they sat outside their hut on a broken old bench, and the old man mended the holes in his ragged old net. There were holes in it a hare could jump through with his ears standing, let alone one of those little fishes that live in the sea. The old woman sat on the bench beside him, and patched his trousers and complained.Well, one day the old man went fishing, as he always did. All day long he fished, and caught nothing. And then in the evening, when he was thinking he might as well give up and go home, he threw his net for the last time, and when he came to pull it in he began to think he had caught an island instead of a haul of fish, and a strong and lively island at that—the net was so heavy and pulled so hard against his feeble old arms.“This time,” says he, “I have caught a hundred fish at least.”Not a bit of it. The net came in as heavy as if it were full of fighting fish, but empty —.“Empty?” said Maroosia.“Well, not quite empty,” said old Peter, and went on with his tale.Not quite empty, for when the last of the net came ashore there was something glittering in it—a golden fish, not very big and not very little, caught in the meshes. And it was this single golden fish which had made the net so heavy.The old fisherman took the golden fish in his hands.“At least it will be enough for supper,” said he.But the golden fish lay still in his hands, and looked at him with wise eyes, and spoke—yes, my dears, it spoke, just as if it were you or I.“Old man,” says the fish, “do not kill me. I beg you throw me back into the blue waters. Some day I may be able to be of use to you.”“What?” says the old fisherman; “and do you talk with a human voice?”“I do,” says the fish. “And my fish’s heart feels pain like yours. It would be as bitter to me to die as it would be to yourself.”“And is that so?” says the old fisherman. “Well, you shall not die this time.” And he threw the golden fish back into the sea.You would have thought the golden fish would have splashed with his tail, and turned head downwards, and swum away into the blue depths of the sea. Not a bit of it. It stayed there with its tail slowly flapping in the water so as to keep its head up, and it looked at the fisherman with its wise eyes, and it spoke again.“You have given me my life,” says the golden fish. “Now ask anything you wish from me, and you shall have it.”The old fisherman stood there on the shore, combing his beard with his old fingers, and thinking. Think as he would, he could not call to mind a single thing he wanted.“No, fish,” he said at last; “I think I have everything I need,”“Well, if ever you do want anything, come and ask for it,” says the fish, and turns over, flashing gold, and goes down into the blue sea.The old fisherman went back to his hut, where his wife was waiting for him.“What!” she screamed out; “you haven’t caught so much as one little fish for our supper?”“I caught one fish, mother,” says the old man: “a golden fish it was, and it spoke to me; and I let it go, and it told me to ask for anything I wanted.”“And what did you ask for? Show me.”“I couldn’t think of anything to ask for; so I did not ask for anything at all.”“Fool,” says his wife, “and dolt, and us with no food to put in our mouths. Go back at once, and ask for some bread.”Well, the poor old fisherman got down his net, and tramped back to the seashore. And he stood on the shore of the wide blue sea, and he called out,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”And in a moment there was the golden fish with his head out of the water, flapping his tail below him in the water, and looking at the fisherman with his wise eyes.“What is it?” said the fish.“Be so kind,” says the fisherman; “be so kind. We have no bread in the house.”“Go home,” says the fish, and turned over and went down into the sea.“God be good to me,” says the old fisherman; “but what shall I say to my wife, going home like this without the bread?” And he went home very wretchedly, and slower than he came.As soon as he came within sight of his hut he saw his wife, and she was waving her arms and shouting.“Stir your old bones,” she screamed out. “It’s as fine a loaf as ever I’ve seen.”And he hurried along, and found his old wife cutting up a huge loaf of white bread, mind you, not black—a huge loaf of white bread, nearly as big as Maroosia.“You did not do so badly after all,” said his old wife as they sat there with the samovar on the table between them, dipping their bread in the hot tea.But that night, as they lay sleeping on the stove, the old woman poked the old man in the ribs with her bony elbow. He groaned and woke up.“I’ve been thinking,” says his wife, “your fish might have given us a trough to keep the bread in while he was about it. There is a lot left over, and without a trough it will go bad, and not be fit for anything. And our old trough is broken; besides, it’s too small. First thing in the morning off you go, and ask your fish to give us a new trough to put the bread in.”Early in the morning she woke the old man again, and he had to get up and go down to the seashore. He was very much afraid, because he thought the fish would not take it kindly. But at dawn, just as the red sun was rising out of the sea, he stood on the shore, and called out in his windy old voice,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”And there in the morning sunlight was the golden fish, looking at him with its wise eyes.“I beg your pardon,” says the old man, “but could you, just to oblige my wife, give us some sort of trough to put the bread in?”“Go home,” says the fish; and down it goes into the blue sea.The old man went home, and there, outside the hut, was the old woman, looking at the handsomest bread trough that ever was seen on earth. Painted it was, with little flowers, in three colours, and there were strips of gilding about its handles.“Look at this,” grumbled the old woman. “This is far too fine a trough for a tumble-down hut like ours. Why, there is scarcely a place in the roof where the rain does not come through. If we were to keep this trough in such a hut, it would be spoiled in a month. You must go back to your fish and ask it for a new hut.”“I hardly like to do that,” says the old man.“Get along with you,” says his wife. “If the fish can make a trough like this, a hut will be no trouble to him. And, after all, you must not forget he owes his life to you.”“I suppose that is true,” says the old man; but he went back to the shore with a heavy heart. He stood on the edge of the sea and called out, doubtfully,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”Instantly there was a ripple in the water, and the golden fish was looking at him with its wise eyes.“Well?” says the fish.“My old woman is so pleased with the trough that she wants a new hut to keep it in, because ours, if you could only see it, is really falling to pieces, and the rain comes in and —.”“Go home,” says the fish.The old fisherman went home, but he could not find his old hut at all. At first he thought he had lost his way. But then he saw his wife. And she was walking about, first one way and then the other, looking at the finest hut that God ever gave a poor moujik to keep him from the rain and the cold, and the too great heat of the sun. It was built of sound logs, neatly finished at the ends and carved. And the overhanging of the roof was cut in patterns, so neat, so pretty, you could never think how they had been done. The old woman looked at it from all sides. And the old man stood, wondering. Then they went in together. And everything within the hut was new and clean. There were a fine big stove, and strong wooden benches, and a good table, and a fire lit in the stove, and logs ready to put in, and a samovar already on the boil—a fine new samovar of glittering brass.You would have thought the old woman would have been satisfied with that. Not a bit of it.“You don’t know how to lift your eyes from the ground,” says she. “You don’t know what to ask. I am tired of being a peasant woman and a moujik’s wife. I was made for something better. I want to be a lady, and have good people to do the work, and see folk bow and curtsy to me when I meet them walking abroad. Go back at once to the fish, you old fool, and ask him for that, instead of bothering him for little trifles like bread troughs and moujiks’ huts. Off with you.”The old fisherman went back to the shore with a sad heart; but he was afraid of his wife, and he dared not disobey her. He stood on the shore, and called out in his windy old voice,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”Instantly there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.“Well?” says the fish.“My old woman won’t give me a moment’s peace,” says the old man; “and since she has the new hut—which is a fine one, I must say; as good a hut as ever I saw—she won’t be content at all. She is tired of being a peasant’s wife, and wants to be a lady with a house and servants, and to see the good folk curtsy to her when she meets them walking abroad.”“Go home,” says the fish.The old man went home, thinking about the hut, and how pleasant it would be to live in it, even if his wife were a lady.But when he got home the hut had gone, and in its place there was a fine brick house, three stories high. There were servants running this way and that in the courtyard. There was a cook in the kitchen, and there was his old woman, in a dress of rich brocade, sitting idle in a tall carved chair, and giving orders right and left.“Good health to you, wife,” says the old man.“Ah, you, clown that you are, how dare you call me your wife! Can’t you see that I’m a lady? Here! Off with this fellow to the stables, and see that he gets a beating he won’t forget in a hurry.”Instantly the servants seized the old man by the collar and lugged him along to the stables. There the grooms treated him to such a whipping that he could hardly stand on his feet. After that the old woman made him doorkeeper. She ordered that a besom should be given him to clean up the courtyard, and said that he was to have his meals in the kitchen. A wretched life the old man lived. All day long he was sweeping up the courtyard, and if there was a speck of dirt to be seen in it anywhere, he paid for it at once in the stable under the whips of the grooms.Time went on, and the old woman grew tired of being only a lady. And at last there came a day when she sent into the yard to tell the old man to come before her. The poor old man combed his hair and cleaned his boots, and came into the house, and bowed low before the old woman.“Be off with you, you old good-for-nothing!” says she. “Go and find your golden fish, and tell him from me that I am tired of being a lady. I want to be Tzaritza, with generals and courtiers and men of state to do whatever I tell them.”The old man went along to the seashore, glad enough to be out of the courtyard and out of reach of the stablemen with their whips. He came to the shore, and cried out in his windy old voice,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”And there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.“What’s the matter now, old man?” says the fish.“My old woman is going on worse than ever,” says the old fisherman. “My back is sore with the whips of her grooms. And now she says it isn’t enough for her to be a lady; she wants to be a Tzaritza.”“Never you worry about it,” says the fish. “Go home and praise God;” and with that the fish turned over and went down into the sea.The old man went home slowly, for he did not know what his wife would do to him if the golden fish did not make her into a Tzaritza.But as soon as he came near he heard the noise of trumpets and the beating of drums, and there where the fine stone house had been was now a great palace with a golden roof. Behind it was a big garden of flowers, that are fair to look at but have no fruit, and before it was a meadow of fine green grass. And on the meadow was an army of soldiers drawn up in squares and all dressed alike. And suddenly the fisherman saw his old woman in the gold and silver dress of a Tzaritza come stalking out on the balcony with her generals and boyars to hold a review of her troops. And the drums beat and the trumpets sounded, and the soldiers cried “Hurrah!” And the poor old fisherman found a dark corner in one of the barns, and lay down in the straw.Time went on, and at last the old woman was tired of being Tzaritza. She thought she was made for something better. And one day she said to her chamberlain,—“Find me that ragged old beggar who is always hanging about in the courtyard. Find him, and bring him here.”The chamberlain told his officers, and the officers told the servants, and the servants looked for the old man, and found him at last asleep on the straw in the corner of one of the barns. They took some of the dirt off him, and brought him before the Tzaritza, sitting proudly on her golden throne.“Listen, old fool!” says she. “Be off to your golden fish, and tell it I am tired of being Tzaritza. Anybody can be Tzaritza. I want to be the ruler of the seas, so that all the waters shall obey me, and all the fishes shall be my servants.”“I don’t like to ask that,” said the old man, trembling.“What’s that?” she screamed at him. “Do you dare to answer the Tzaritza? If you do not set off this minute, I’ll have your head cut off and your body thrown to the dogs.”Unwillingly the old man hobbled off. He came to the shore, and cried out with a windy, quavering old voice,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”Nothing happened.The old man thought of his wife, and what would happen to him if she were still Tzaritza when he came home. Again he called out,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”Nothing happened, nothing at all.A third time, with the tears running down his face, he called out in his windy, creaky, quavering old voice,—“Head in air and tail in sea, Fish, fish, listen to me.”Suddenly there was a loud noise, louder and louder over the sea. The sun hid itself. The sea broke into waves, and the waves piled themselves one upon another. The sky and the sea turned black, and there was a great roaring wind that lifted the white crests of the waves and tossed them abroad over the waters. The golden fish came up out of the storm and spoke out of the sea.“What is it now?” says he, in a voice more terrible than the voice of the storm itself.“O fish,” says the old man, trembling like a reed shaken by the storm, “my old woman is worse than before. She is tired of being Tzaritza. She wants to be the ruler of the seas, so that all the waters shall obey her and all the fishes be her servants.”The golden fish said nothing, nothing at all. He turned over and went down into the deep seas. And the wind from the sea was so strong that the old man could hardly stand against it. For a long time he waited, afraid to go home; but at last the storm calmed, and it grew towards evening, and he hobbled back, thinking to creep in and hide amongst the straw.As he came near, he listened for the trumpets and the drums. He heard nothing except the wind from the sea rustling the little leaves of birch trees. He looked for the palace. It was gone, and where it had been was a little tumbledown hut of earth and logs. It seemed to the old fisherman that he knew the little hut, and he looked at it with joy. And he went to the door of the hut, and there was sitting his old woman in a ragged dress, cleaning out a saucepan, and singing in a creaky old voice. And this time she was glad to see him, and they sat down together on the bench and drank tea without sugar, because they had not any money.They began to live again as they used to live, and the old man grew happier every day. He fished and fished, and many were the fish that he caught, and of many kinds; but never again did he catch another golden fish that could talk like a human being. I doubt whether he would have said anything to his wife about it, even if he had caught one every day.“What a horrid old woman!” said Maroosia.“I wonder the old fisherman forgave her,” said Ivan.“I think he might have beaten her a little,” said Maroosia. “she deserved it.”“Well,” said old Peter, “supposing we could have everything we wanted for the asking, I wonder how it would be. Perhaps God knew what He was doing when He made those golden fishes rare.”“Are there really any of them?” asked Vanya.“Well, there was once one, anyhow,” said old Peter; and then he rolled his nets neatly together, hung them on the fence, and went into the hut to make the dinner. And Vanya and Maroosia went in with him to help him as much as they could; though Vanya was wondering all the time whether he could make a net, and throw it in the little river where old Peter fished, and perhaps pull out a golden fish that would speak to him with the voice of a human being.
Once upon a time there lived an old couple who had one son called Martin. Now when the old man’s time had come, he stretched himself out on his bed and died. Though all his life long he had toiled and moiled, he only left his widow and son two hundred florins. The old woman determined to put by the money for a rainy day; but alas! the rainy day was close at hand, for their meal was all consumed, and who is prepared to face starvation with two hundred florins at their disposal? So the old woman counted out a hundred of her florins, and giving them to Martin, told him to go into the town and lay in a store of meal for a year.So Martin started off for the town. When he reached the meat-market he found the whole place in turmoil, and a great noise of angry voices and barking of dogs. Mixing in the crowd, he noticed a stag-hound which the butchers had caught and tied to a post, and which was being flogged in a merciless manner. Overcome with pity, Martin spoke to the butchers, saying:‘Friends, why are you beating the poor dog so cruelly?’‘We have every right to beat him,’ they replied; ‘he has just devoured a newly-killed pig.’‘Leave off beating him,’ said Martin, ‘and sell him to me instead.’‘If you choose to buy him,’ answered the butchers derisively; ‘but for such a treasure we won’t take a penny less than a hundred florins.’‘A hundred!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Well, so be it, if you will not take less;’ and, taking the money out of his pocket, he handed it over in exchange for the dog, whose name was Schurka.When Martin got home, his mother met him with the question:‘Well, what have you bought?’‘Schurka, the dog,’ replied Martin, pointing to his new possession. Whereupon his mother became very angry, and abused him roundly. He ought to be ashamed of himself, when there was scarcely a handful of meal in the house, to have spent the money on a useless brute like that. On the following day she sent him back to the town, saying, ‘Here, take our last hundred florins, and buy provisions with them. I have just emptied the last grains of meal out of the chest, and baked a bannock; but it won’t last over to-morrow.’Just as Martin was entering the town he met a rough-looking peasant who was dragging a cat after him by a string which was fastened round the poor beast’s neck.‘Stop,’ cried Martin; ‘where are you dragging that poor cat?’‘I mean to drown him,’ was the answer.‘What harm has the poor beast done?’ said Martin.‘It has just killed a goose,’ replied the peasant.‘Don’t drown him, sell him to me instead,’ begged Martin.‘Not for a hundred florins,’ was the answer.‘Surely for a hundred florins you’ll sell it?’ said Martin. ‘See! here is the money;’ and, so saying, he handed him the hundred florins, which the peasant pocketed, and Martin took possession of the cat, which was called Waska.When he reached his home his mother greeted him with the question:‘Well, what have you brought back?’‘I have brought this cat, Waska,’ answered Martin.‘And what besides?’‘I had no money over to buy anything else with,’ replied Martin.‘You useless ne’er-do-weel!’ exclaimed his mother in a great passion. ‘Leave the house at once, and go and beg your bread among strangers;’ and as Martin did not dare to contradict her, he called Schurka and Waska and started off with them to the nearest village in search of work. On the way he met a rich peasant, who asked him where he was going.‘I want to get work as a day labourer,’ he answered.‘Come along with me, then. But I must tell you I engage my labourers without wages. If you serve me faithfully for a year, I promise you it shall be for your advantage.’So Martin consented, and for a year he worked diligently, and served his master faithfully, not sparing himself in any way. When the day of reckoning had come the peasant led him into a barn, and pointing to two full sacks, said: ‘Take whichever of these you choose.’Martin examined the contents of the sacks, and seeing that one was full of silver and the other of sand, he said to himself:‘There must be some trick about this; I had better take the sand.’ And throwing the sack over his shoulders he started out into the world, in search of fresh work. On and on he walked, and at last he reached a great gloomy wood. In the middle of the wood he came upon a meadow, where a fire was burning, and in the midst of the fire, surrounded by flames, was a lovely damsel, more beautiful than anything that Martin had ever seen, and when she saw him she called to him:‘Martin, if you would win happiness, save my life. Extinguish the flames with the sand that you earned in payment of your faithful service.’‘Truly,’ thought Martin to himself, ‘it would be more sensible to save a fellow-being’s life with this sand than to drag it about on one’s back, seeing what a weight it is.’ And forthwith he lowered the sack from his shoulders and emptied its contents on the flames, and instantly the fire was extinguished; but at the same moment lo! and behold the lovely damsel turned into a Serpent, and, darting upon him, coiled itself round his neck, and whispered lovingly in his ear:‘Do not be afraid of me, Martin; I love you, and will go with you through the world. But first you must follow me boldly into my Father’s Kingdom, underneath the earth; and when we get there, remember this—he will offer you gold and silver, and dazzling gems, but do not touch them. Ask him, instead, for the ring which he wears on his little finger, for in that ring lies a magic power; you have only to throw it from one hand to the other, and at once twelve young men will appear, who will do your bidding, no matter how difficult, in a single night.’So they started on their way, and after much wandering they reached a spot where a great rock rose straight up in the middle of the road. Instantly the Serpent uncoiled itself from his neck, and, as it touched the damp earth, it resumed the shape of the lovely damsel. Pointing to the rock, she showed him an opening just big enough for a man to wriggle through. Passing into it, they entered a long underground passage, which led out on to a wide field, above which spread a blue sky. In the middle of the field stood a magnificent castle, built out of porphyry, with a roof of gold and with glittering battlements. And his beautiful guide told him that this was the palace in which her father lived and reigned over his kingdom in the Under-world.Together they entered the palace, and were received by the King with great kindness. Turning to his daughter, he said:‘My child, I had almost given up the hope of ever seeing you again. Where have you been all these years?’‘My father,’ she replied, ‘I owe my life to this youth, who saved me from a terrible death.’Upon which the King turned to Martin with a gracious smile, saying: ‘I will reward your courage by granting you whatever your heart desires. Take as much gold, silver, and precious stones as you choose.’‘I thank you, mighty King, for your gracious offer,’ answered Martin,’ ‘but I do not covet either gold, silver, or precious stones; yet if you will grant me a favour, give me, I beg, the ring from off the little finger of your royal hand. Every time my eye falls on it I shall think of your gracious Majesty, and when I marry I shall present it to my bride.’So the King took the ring from his finger and gave it to Martin, saying: ‘Take it, good youth; but with it I make one condition—you are never to confide to anyone that this is a magic ring. If you do, you will straightway bring misfortune on yourself.’Martin took the ring, and, having thanked the King, he set out on the same road by which he had come down into the Under-world. When he had regained the upper air he started for his old home, and having found his mother still living in the old house where he had left her, they settled down together very happily. So uneventful was their life that it almost seemed as if it would go on in this way always, without let or hindrance. But one day it suddenly came into his mind that he would like to get married, and, moreover, that he would choose a very grand wife—a King’s daughter, in short. But as he did not trust himself as a wooer, he determined to send his old mother on the mission.‘You must go to the King,’ he said to her, ‘and demand the hand of his lovely daughter in marriage for me.’‘What are you thinking of, my son?’ answered the old woman, aghast at the idea. ‘Why cannot you marry someone in your own rank? That would be far more fitting than to send a poor old woman like me a-wooing to the King’s Court for the hand of a Princess. Why, it is as much as our heads are worth. Neither my life nor yours would be worth anything if I went on such a fool’s errand.’‘Never fear, little mother,’ answered Martin. ‘Trust me; all will be well. But see that you do not come back without an answer of some kind.’And so, obedient to her son’s behest, the old woman hobbled off to the palace, and, without being hindered, reached the courtyard, and began to mount the flight of steps leading to the royal presence chamber. At the head of the landing rows of courtiers were collected in magnificent attire, who stared at the queer old figure, and called to her, and explained to her, with every kind of sign, that it was strictly forbidden to mount those steps. But their stern words and forbidding gestures made no impression whatever on the old woman, and she resolutely continued to climb the stairs, bent on carrying out her son’s orders. Upon this some of the courtiers seized her by the arms, and held her back by sheer force, at which she set up such a yell that the King himself heard it, and stepped out on to the balcony to see what was the matter. When he beheld the old woman flinging her arms wildly about, and heard her scream that she would not leave the place till she had laid her case before the King, he ordered that she should be brought into his presence. And forthwith she was conducted into the golden presence chamber, where, leaning back amongst cushions of royal purple, the King sat, surrounded by his counsellors and courtiers. Courtesying low, the old woman stood silent before him. ‘Well, my good old dame, what can I do for you?’ asked the King.‘I have come,’ replied Martin’s mother—‘and your Majesty must not be angry with me—I have come a-wooing.’‘Is the woman out of her mind?’ said the King, with an angry frown.But Martin’s mother answered boldly: ‘If the King will only listen patiently to me, and give me a straightforward answer, he will see that I am not out of my mind. You, O King, have a lovely daughter to give in marriage. I have a son—a wooer—as clever a youth and as good a son-in-law as you will find in your whole kingdom. There is nothing that he cannot do. Now tell me, O King, plump and plain, will you give your daughter to my son as wife?’ The King listened to the end of the old woman’s strange request, but every moment his face grew blacker, and his features sterner; till all at once he thought to himself, ‘Is it worth while that I, the King, should be angry with this poor old fool?’ And all the courtiers and counsellors were amazed when they saw the hard lines round his mouth and the frown on his brow grow smooth, and heard the mild but mocking tones in which he answered the old woman, saying:‘If your son is as wonderfully clever as you say, and if there is nothing in the world that he cannot do, let him build a magnificent castle, just opposite my palace windows, in four and twenty hours. The palace must be joined together by a bridge of pure crystal. On each side of the bridge there must be growing trees, having golden and silver apples, and with birds of Paradise among the branches. At the right of the bridge there must be a church, with five golden cupolas; in this church your son shall be wedded to my daughter, and we will keep the wedding festivities in the new castle. But if he fails to execute this my royal command, then, as a just but mild monarch, I shall give orders that you and he are taken, and first dipped in tar and then in feathers, and you shall be executed in the market-place for the entertainment of my courtiers.’And a smile played round the King’s lips as he finished speaking, and his courtiers and counsellors shook with laughter when they thought of the old woman’s folly, and praised the King’s wise device, and said to each other, ‘What a joke it will be when we see the pair of them tarred and feathered! The son is just as able to grow a beard on the palm of his hand as to execute such a task in twenty-four hours.’Now the poor old woman was mortally afraid and, in a trembling voice she asked:‘Is that really your royal will, O King? Must I take this order to my poor son?’‘Yes, old dame; such is my command. If your son carries out my order, he shall be rewarded with my daughter; but if he fails, away to the tar-barrel and the stake with you both!’On her way home the poor old woman shed bitter tears, and when she saw Martin she told him what the King had said, and sobbed out:‘Didn’t I tell you, my son, that you should marry someone of your own rank? It would have been better for us this day if you had. As I told you, my going to Court has been as much as our lives are worth, and now we will both be tarred and feathered, and burnt in the public market-place. It is terrible!’ and she moaned and cried.‘Never fear, little mother,’ answered Martin; ‘trust me, and you will see all will be well. You may go to sleep with a quiet mind.’And, stepping to the front of the hut, Martin threw his ring from the palm of one hand into the other, upon which twelve youths instantly appeared, and demanded what he wanted them to do. Then he told them the King’s commands, and they answered that by next morning all should be accomplished exactly as the King had ordered.Next morning when the King awoke, and looked out of his window, to his amazement he beheld a magnificent castle, just opposite his own palace, and joined to it a bridge of pure crystal.At each side of the bridge trees were growing, from whose branches hung golden and silver apples, among which birds of Paradise perched. At the right, gleaming in the sun, were the five golden cupolas of a splendid church, whose bells rang out, as if they would summon people from all corners of the earth to come and behold the wonder. Now, though the King would much rather have seen his future son-in-law tarred, feathered, and burnt at the stake, he remembered his royal oath, and had to make the best of a bad business. So he took heart of grace, and made Martin a Duke, and gave his daughter a rich dowry, and prepared the grandest wedding-feast that had ever been seen, so that to this day the old people in the country still talk of it.After the wedding Martin and his royal bride went to dwell in the magnificent new palace, and here Martin lived in the greatest comfort and luxury, such luxury as he had never imagined. But though he was as happy as the day was long, and as merry as a grig, the King’s daughter fretted all day, thinking of the indignity that had been done her in making her marry Martin, the poor widow’s son, instead of a rich young Prince from a foreign country. So unhappy was she that she spent all her time wondering how she should get rid of her undesirable husband. And first she determined to learn the secret of his power, and, with flattering, caressing words, she tried to coax him to tell her how he was so clever that there was nothing in the world that he could not do. At first he would tell her nothing; but once, when he was in a yielding mood, she approached him with a winning smile on her lovely face, and, speaking flattering words to him, she gave him a potion to drink, with a sweet, strong taste. And when he had drunk it Martin’s lips were unsealed, and he told her that all his power lay in the magic ring that he wore on his finger, and he described to her how to use it, and, still speaking, he fell into a deep sleep. And when she saw that the potion had worked, and that he was sound asleep, the Princess took the magic ring from his finger, and, going into the courtyard, she threw it from the palm of one hand into the other.On the instant the twelve youths appeared, and asked her what she commanded them to do. Then she told them that by the next morning they were to do away with the castle, and the bridge, and the church, and put in their stead the humble hut in which Martin used to live with his mother, and that while he slept her husband was to be carried to his old lowly room; and that they were to bear her away to the utmost ends of the earth, where an old King lived who would make her welcome in his palace, and surround her with the state that befitted a royal Princess.‘You shall be obeyed,’ answered the twelve youths at the same moment. And lo and behold! the following morning, when the King awoke and looked out of his window he beheld to his amazement that the palace, bridge, church, and trees had all vanished, and there was nothing in their place but a bare, miserable-looking hut.Immediately the King sent for his son-in-law, and commanded him to explain what had happened. But Martin looked at his royal father-in-law, and answered never a word. Then the King was very angry, and, calling a council together, he charged Martin with having been guilty of witchcraft, and of having deceived the King, and having made away with the Princess; and he was condemned to imprisonment in a high stone tower, with neither meat nor drink, till he should die of starvation.Then, in the hour of his dire necessity, his old friends Schurka (the dog) and Waska (the cat) remembered how Martin had once saved them from a cruel death; and they took counsel together as to how they should help him. And Schurka growled, and was of opinion that he would like to tear everyone in pieces; but Waska purred meditatively, and scratched the back of her ear with a velvet paw, and remained lost in thought. At the end of a few minutes she had made up her mind, and, turning to Schurka, said: ‘Let us go together into the town, and the moment we meet a baker you must make a rush between his legs and upset the tray from off his head; I will lay hold of the rolls, and will carry them off to our master.’ No sooner said than done. Together the two faithful creatures trotted off into the town, and very soon they met a baker bearing a tray on his head, and looking round on all sides, while he cried:‘Fresh rolls, sweet cake,Fancy bread of every kind.Come and buy, come and take,Sure you’ll find it to your mind,’At that moment Schurka made a rush between his legs—the baker stumbled, the tray was upset, the rolls fell to the ground, and, while the man angrily pursued Schurka, Waska managed to drag the rolls out of sight behind a bush. And when a moment later Schurka joined her, they set off at full tilt to the stone tower where Martin was a prisoner, taking the rolls with them. Waska, being very agile, climbed up by the outside to the grated window, and called in an anxious voice:‘Are you alive, master?’‘Scarcely alive—almost starved to death,’ answered Martin in a weak voice. ‘I little thought it would come to this, that I should die of hunger.’‘Never fear, dear master. Schurka and I will look after you,’ said Waska. And in another moment she had climbed down and brought him back a roll, and then another, and another, till she had brought him the whole tray-load. Upon which she said: ‘Dear master, Schurka and I are going off to a distant kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth to fetch you back your magic ring. You must be careful that the rolls last till our return.’And Waska took leave of her beloved master, and set off with Schurka on their journey. On and on they travelled, looking always to right and left for traces of the Princess, following up every track, making inquiries of every cat and dog they met, listening to the talk of every wayfarer they passed; and at last they heard that the kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth where the twelve youths had borne the Princess was not very far off. And at last one day they reached that distant kingdom, and, going at once to the palace, they began to make friends with all the dogs and cats in the place, and to question them about the Princess and the magic ring; but no one could tell them much about either. Now one day it chanced that Waska had gone down to the palace cellar to hunt for mice and rats, and seeing an especially fat, well-fed mouse, she pounced upon it, buried her claws in its soft fur, and was just going to gobble it up, when she was stopped by the pleading tones of the little creature, saying, ‘If you will only spare my life I may be of great service to you. I will do everything in my power for you; for I am the King of the Mice, and if I perish the whole race will die out.’‘So be it,’ said Waska. ‘I will spare your life; but in return you must do something for me. In this castle there lives a Princess, the wicked wife of my dear master. She has stolen away his magic ring. You must get it away from her at whatever cost; do you hear? Till you have done this I won’t take my claws out of your fur.’‘Good!’ replied the mouse; ‘I will do what you ask.’ And, so saying, he summoned all the mice in his kingdom together. A countless number of mice, small and big, brown and grey, assembled, and formed a circle round their king, who was a prisoner under Waska’s claws. Turning to them he said: ‘Dear and faithful subjects, who ever among you will steal the magic ring from the strange Princess will release me from a cruel death; and I shall honour him above all the other mice in the kingdom.’Instantly a tiny mouse stepped forward and said: ‘I often creep about the Princess’s bedroom at night, and I have noticed that she has a ring which she treasures as the apple of her eye. All day she wears it on her finger, and at night she keeps it in her mouth. I will undertake, sire, to steal away the ring for you.’And the tiny mouse tripped away into the bedroom of the Princess, and waited for nightfall; then, when the Princess had fallen asleep, it crept up on to her bed, and gnawed a hole in the pillow, through which it dragged one by one little down feathers, and threw them under the Princess’s nose. And the fluff flew into the Princess’s nose, and into her mouth, and starting up she sneezed and coughed, and the ring fell out of her mouth on to the coverlet. In a flash the tiny mouse had seized it, and brought it to Waska as a ransom for the King of the Mice. Thereupon Waska and Schurka started off, and travelled night and day till they reached the stone tower where Martin was imprisoned; and the cat climbed up the window, and called out to him:‘Martin, dear master, are you still alive?’‘Ah! Waska, my faithful little cat, is that you?’ replied a weak voice. ‘I am dying of hunger. For three days I have not tasted food.’‘Be of good heart, dear master,’ replied Waska; ‘from this day forth you will know nothing but happiness and prosperity. If this were a moment to trouble you with riddles, I would make you guess what Schurka and I have brought you back. Only think, we have got you your ring!’At these words Martin’s joy knew no bounds, and he stroked her fondly, and she rubbed up against him and purred happily, while below Schurka bounded in the air, and barked joyfully. Then Martin took the ring, and threw it from one hand into the other, and instantly the twelve youths appeared and asked what they were to do.‘Fetch me first something to eat and drink, as quickly as possible; and after that bring musicians hither, and let us have music all day long.’Now when the people in the town and palace heard music coming from the tower they were filled with amazement, and came to the King with the news that witchcraft must be going on in Martin’s Tower, for, instead of dying of starvation, he was seemingly making merry to the sound of music, and to the clatter of plates, and glass, and knives and forks; and the music was so enchantingly sweet that all the passers-by stood still to listen to it. On this the King sent at once a messenger to the Starvation Tower, and he was so astonished with what he saw that he remained rooted to the spot. Then the King sent his chief counsellors, and they too were transfixed with wonder. At last the King came himself, and he likewise was spellbound by the beauty of the music.Then Martin summoned the twelve youths, spoke to them, saying, ‘Build up my castle again, and join it to the King’s Palace with a crystal bridge; do not forget the trees with the golden and silver apples, and with the birds of Paradise in the branches; and put back the church with the five cupolas, and let the bells ring out, summoning the people from the four corners of the kingdom. And one thing more: bring back my faithless wife, and lead her into the women’s chamber.’And it was all done as he commanded, and, leaving the Starvation Tower, he took the King, his father-in-law, by the arm, and led him into the new palace, where the Princess sat in fear and trembling, awaiting her death. And Martin spoke to the King, saying, ‘King and royal father, I have suffered much at the hands of your daughter. What punishment shall be dealt to her?’Then the mild King answered: ‘Beloved Prince and son-in-law, if you love me, let your anger be turned to grace—forgive my daughter, and restore her to your heart and favour.’And Martin’s heart was softened and he forgave his wife, and they lived happily together ever after. And his old mother came and lived with him, and he never parted with Schurka and Waska; and I need hardly tell you that he never again let the ring out of his possession.
In among the hills of Echizen, within sight of the snowy mountain called Hakuzan, lived a farmer named Bimbo. He was very poor, but frugal and industrious. He was very fond of children though he had none himself. He longed to adopt a son to bear his name, and often talked the matter over with his old dame. But being so dreadfully poor both thought it best not to adopt, until they had bettered their condition and increased the area of their land. For all the property Bimbo owned was the earth in a little gully, which he himself was reclaiming. A tiny rivulet, flowing from a spring in the crevice of the rocks above, after trickling over the boulders, rolled down the gully to join a brook in the larger valley below. Bimbo had with great labor, after many years, made dams or terraces of stone, inside which he had thrown soil, partly got from the mountain sides, but mainly carried in baskets on the backs of himself and his wife, from the valley below. By such weary toil, continued year in and year out, small beds of soil were formed, in which rice could be planted and grown. The little rivulet supplied the needful water; for rice, the daily food of laborer and farmer, must be planted and cultivated in soft mud under water. So the little rivulet, which once leaped over the rock and cut its way singing to the valley, now spread itself quietly over each terrace, making more than a dozen descents before it reached the fields below.Yet after all his toil for a score of years, working every day from the first croak of the raven, until the stars came out, Bimbo and his wife owned only three tan (¾ acre) of terrace land. Sometimes a summer would pass, and little or no rain fall. Then the rivulet dried up and crops failed. It seemed all in vain that their backs were bent and their foreheads seamed and wrinkled with care. Many a time did Bimbo have hard work of it even to pay his taxes, which sometimes amounted to half his crop. Many a time did he shake his head, muttering the discouraged farmer’s proverb “A new field gives a scant crop,” the words of which mean also, “Human life is but fifty years.”One summer day after a long drought, when the young rice sprouts, just transplanted were turning yellow at the tips, the clouds began to gather and roll, and soon a smart shower fell, the lightning glittered, and the hills echoed with claps of thunder. But Bimbo, hoe in hand, was so glad to see the rain fall, and the pattering drops felt so cool and refreshing, that he worked on, strengthening the terrace to resist the little flood about to come.Wind God and Thunder God (left screen, detail), painting bySuzuki Kiitsu (1796-1858)Pretty soon the storm rattled very near him, and he thought he had better seek shelter, lest the thunder should strike and kill him. For Bimbo, like all his neighbors, had often heard stories of Raijin, the god of the thunder-drums, who lives in the skies and rides on the storm, and sometimes kills people by throwing out of the clouds at them a terrible creature like a cat, with iron-like claws and a hairy body.Just as Bimbo threw his hoe over his shoulder and started to move, a terrible blinding flash of lightning dazzled his eyes. It was immediately followed by a deafening crash, and the thunder fell just in front of him. He covered his eyes with his hands, but finding himself unhurt, uttered a prayer of thanks to Buddha for safety. Then he uncovered his eyes and looked down at his feet.There lay a little boy, rosy and warm, and crowing in the most lively manner, and never minding the rain in the least. The farmer’s eyes opened very wide, but happy and nearly surprised out of his senses, he picked up the child tenderly in his arms, and took him home to his old wife.“Here’s a gift from Raijin,” said Bimbo. “We’ll adopt him as our own son and call him Rai-taro,” (the first-born darling of the thunder).So the boy grew up and became a very dutiful and loving child. He was as kind and obedient to his foster-parents as though he had been born in their house. He never liked to play with other children, but kept all day in the fields with his father, sporting with the rivulet and looking at the clouds and sky. Even when the strolling players of the Dai Kagura (the comedy which makes the gods laugh) and the “Lion of Corea” came into the village, and every boy and girl and nurse and woman was sure to be out in great glee, the child of the thunder stayed up in the field, or climbed on the high rocks to watch the sailing of the birds and the flowing of the water and the river far away.Great prosperity seemed to come to the farmer, and he laid it all to the sweet child that fell to him from the clouds. It was very curious that rain often fell on Bimbo’s field when none fell elsewhere; so that Bimbo grew rich and changed his name to Kanemochi. He believed that the boy Raitaro beckoned to the clouds, and they shed their rain for him.A good many summers passed by, and Raitaro had grown to be a tall and handsome lad, almost a man and eighteen years old. On his birthday the old farmer and the good wife made a little feast for their foster-child. They ate and drank and talked of the thunder-storm, out of which Raitaro was born.Finally the young man said solemnly:“My dear parents, I thank you very much for your kindness to me, but I must now say farewell. I hope you will always be happy.”Then, in a moment, all trace of a human form disappeared, and floating in the air, they saw a tiny white dragon, which hovered for a moment above them, and then flew away. The old couple went out of doors to watch it, when it grew bigger and bigger, taking its course to the hills above, where the piled-up white clouds, which form on a summer’s afternoon, seemed built up like towers and castles of silver. Towards one of these the dragon moved, until, as they watched his form, now grown to a mighty size, it disappeared from view.After this Kanemochi and his wife, who were now old and white-headed, ceased from their toil and lived in comfort all their days. When they died and their bodies were reduced to a heap of white cinders in the stone furnace of the village cremation-house, their ashes were mixed, and being put into one urn, were laid away in the cemetery of the temple yard. Their tomb was carved in the form of a white dragon, which to this day, in spite of mosses and lichens, may still be seen among the ancient monuments of the little hamlet.
King Hradibor was a wise and a clever man. He was wise because he would travel about the country, that he might see everything for himself; he was clever because he did so under an assumed name, in order that people might not prepare themselves for his visits. In this way he saw many remarkable things—things of which he had not the remotest idea before; and no wonder, for he would not only go into open towns and villages, but even into the poorest hut if it came in his way. In a miserable hovel he once saw what he had never seen before—a poor woman with twelve daughters.“Are all these your daughters?” asked the king of the old woman, who was greatly surprised that a gentleman should deign to enter her poor hut.“They are all mine,” answered the old woman, sighing; “and I don’t know what to do with them.”“As you are so poor,” said the king, “I will take one of your daughters with me on my return.”Then the king gave the old woman a piece of gold money, and, wishing her heaven’s blessing, departed.The woman became a little easier in her mind on the receipt of this present; but not so her daughters. They were all well-conducted and obedient children; but when a fine gentleman comes and asks to take one of them away—for his wife, of course!—it is no trifling matter. They began to discuss the question together, and each claimed the strange gentleman for herself. At length, as after a long dispute they could not agree who was the most eligible, the eldest sister said,—“I am the eldest, and according to custom I ought to be married first.”“That’s of no consequence,” cried the second sister; “the gentleman may pay little respect for custom, and choose any one of us he likes best.”“Certainly,” concurred the third sister, “such gentlemen don’t care much for custom. What do you say, sisters?”“No, no; of course not!” they all cried, with the exception of the eldest—and the youngest, who was but five years old, and the most beautiful of them all.Then the mother came among her daughters, and sent them to their work. The girls set to work, but somehow the work did not go on so well this time as usual; they were all deeply buried in thought; they would stop to arrange their dresses and smooth their hair, and they looked at each other with suspicion. Had not the king soon returned they would all have worried themselves to death, although he had promised to take only one of them. Fortunately the king soon made his appearance, and not wishing to keep the girls in suspense any longer, he took the youngest of them, called Libena, by the hand, saying to the old woman,—“I will take this one away with me.”“Why, what will you do with her?” cried the mother and sisters with one voice.“What shall I do with her? I will adopt her as my own daughter, since I have none at home. Do you not agree to that?”“With pleasure,” answered the mother; the daughters were dumb with surprise. Then the king stepped into his carriage, placed Libena by his side, and having given the mother a purse full of gold pieces, drove away. The daughters surrounded the mother, and when she had shown them the money they recovered somewhat from their astonishment and were satisfied.Meanwhile the king drove to his palace, where he had three sons, the youngest of whom was only ten years old.“I have brought you a sister,” said the king to his sons, when he reached home. The princes came running round their new sister and smothered her with kisses. From that moment Libena was regarded by every one in the palace as a princess. It was only the servant who had travelled with the king about the country who knew it was not so.Libena grew more beautiful every day, and the princes came to love her more and more; even the queen herself loved her as much as if she had been her own daughter. Among the servants, however, Libena came in the course of time to be looked upon with contempt, because the first one who knew of her place of birth told it to his friend, he to another, and so on, until the whole story was well known to every servant in the palace. The princes alone knew nothing of Libena’s origin, although they had grown up to be young men. They, indeed, had no thought on the matter. They were greatly attached to their supposed sister, were always in her company, did whatever she asked of them, and would willingly have died for her sake. One day the youngest prince ordered the coachman to get the carriage ready, as the princess wished to take a short drive. The servant turned towards the stable to do what he was told, and thinking the prince was already out of hearing, grumbled to himself,—“What a fuss they do make with that bought girl!—just as if she were a princess!”“What did you say?” cried the prince, seizing the coachman by the arm. “Is Libena not our sister?”The coachman was frightened; after a moment’s hesitation he mumbled that he did not say anything.“You did,” said the prince. “If you do not tell me what it was, I will complain to my father.”“I only said,” apologised the coachman, “what the other servants have told me—that his majesty bought the Princess Libena at some village.”Upon hearing this the prince went immediately to seek his brothers.“Brothers!” he exclaimed with great joy, “I have just heard that Libena is not our sister.”“Then I shall take her for my wife,” cried the eldest brother.“No! I shall take her. I shall take her!” cried the other brothers.“I am the eldest, and have the greatest right to her,” continued the eldest prince. “I will go at once and ask father to give her to me for my wife.”He then went to the king, and his brothers followed him. The king and the queen were much surprised when their sons told them, with great delight, how they had heard that Libena was not their sister.“Do you dislike her, then?” asked the king.“Not in the least,” answered the youngest prince. “My brothers want her for a wife.”“And you, too, I suppose,” said the king smiling.“I shall die if she does not become mine,” answered the prince.“Then you all three want her for a wife?”“Yes, yes!” cried the princes together.The king reflected for a moment, then he said,—“Hear me, my sons, you cannot all three marry Libena. Go, therefore, all of you, into the world, and he among you who brings home the most wonderful thing, shall become the husband of Libena. Does that please you?”“Yes, yes!” answered the princes.They soon set out together on their travels. They journeyed for three days, but they could find nothing remarkable.“This will not do,” said the eldest brother, at the inn where they stopped for the night. “We must part; then perhaps we shall meet with better fortune.”The two younger brothers agreed to this suggestion, and soon afterwards they started, each on a different route, after promising to come again, and to wait for each other, at the same inn, before returning home.The eldest prince pursued the road leading to the right. One day he came to a town, and from a distance saw a great crowd of people. He came nearer, pressed into the middle of the crowd, and there saw a very old man with a little carriage.“What is this?” asked the prince of one of the bystanders.“Why, this old man wants to sell his little carriage,” answered the man; “but he asks such an enormous sum for it—a thousand gold pieces.”“And some of you would perhaps buy it!” said the prince aloud. “Oh, foolish people! Would you give a thousand gold pieces for this miserable carriage? Are you not afraid that the whole world would laugh at you? You are as ridiculous as this old man.”When the prince said this, those who were present grew ashamed of themselves, and one by one went away. At last the prince remained alone with the old man.“I pray you,” said the prince to the old man in a whisper, “tell me, what is there remarkable in this little carriage?”“Indeed, sir, it is a very wonderful carriage,” answered the old man mysteriously. “Whoever sits in it will find himself immediately carried into that place to which he way wish to go.”“A miraculous carriage!” exclaimed the prince. “Here are your thousand gold pieces for it.”He sat down in the little vehicle, and wished himself in the inn, where he had parted from his brothers. In an instant he was there. Delighted at having obtained so wonderful a prize, he sat down thinking of Libena more deeply than ever.The second prince went away to the left. He travelled several days and met with nothing out of the ordinary course of things; but at last fortune smiled also upon him. On the public road, just at the entrance to a town, he saw a little old man showing a handsome looking-glass he had for sale.People passing by would stop and look at it, and ask the price, but when they heard it they would only shake their heads, and continue their journey. The prince also looked at the glass, but could see nothing remarkable in it.“Buy it, sir,” cried the old man to the young prince. “It is not dear; I will sell it to you for two thousand gold pieces.”“You foolish old man! Who would give you so large a sum for a common looking-glass?”“But stay, sir; whoever looks into this glass will see whatever he desires.”“Here are the two thousand gold pieces,” cried the prince, and he handed his well-filled purse to the old man. The latter took the money and gave him the looking-glass. The prince looked into the glass, and silently wished to see the inn where he was to meet his brothers. At once he saw his elder brother sitting in the inn, and, judging from his countenance, in a happy mood. The prince concluded from this that his brother had gained possession of some extraordinary thing, and mounting a fast horse he galloped quickly back to the place of meeting.Meanwhile, the youngest prince, who had chosen the road leading straight on before him, wandered on like a man bewildered; the one clear thought which filled both heart and mind was the thought of Libena.One day, as he walked into the market-place of a town, he came upon a crowd of people who had collected round an old woman.“Whoever heard of such a thing?” “To ask ten gold pieces for an apple!” “This is a foolish woman!” “She is mad!”These were the exclamations which the prince heard, uttered in laughter or in indignation, from the crowd round the old woman.“Buy, gentlemen, buy!” cried she continually. “I have only three apples for sale, and each of them costs ten gold pieces.”The prince at once concluded that these apples must be something extraordinary, and without further consideration he gave the old woman the thirty gold pieces. As she gave him the apples, she whispered in his ear,—“You have bought a prize, my son. If one is about to die, and will eat but one of these apples, he will live and be well again.”The prince was delighted. He put the apples in his pouch, and returned joyfully to the inn where his two brothers impatiently awaited his arrival.“Where have you been so long?” asked the eldest brother.“I have wandered about the world seeking wonderful things.”“And what have you brought?” asked the second brother.“Three apples.”“There is nothing wonderful in three apples,” said the eldest brother again. “We have something better. I have a little carriage by which one may travel as fast as the wind; and our brother has a looking-glass in which you can see all that you desire.”“Then let us look into it at once, and see what they are doing at home,” cried the youngest prince.The brothers agreed. They took up the looking-glass, and wished to see their palace at home. They were terror-stricken by what they saw; the windows of the apartments where their parents and Libena lived were closed, and the blinds drawn darkly down. The servants ran about the courtyard as if distracted, throwing up their arms in despair.“What does this mean?” exclaimed the eldest prince. “Some one is dangerously ill—perhaps dead!”“We shall soon see,” said the second prince; and he desired to behold his parents and Libena. They looked in the glass; they saw the king, the queen, and their beloved one—alas! they were all upon the point of death!“Let us fly to them!” exclaimed the youngest brother.The princes sprang into the wonderful carriage, and in an instant they found themselves before the palace. The youngest of them immediately ran to his father, his mother, and to Libena; gave to each of them an apple, and begged them to eat it. They did as he desired, and, oh, wonder of wonders! before you could count one hundred they were so far recovered as to be able to rise. Every one praised the youngest prince to the utmost; more especially the doctors, who had used all their skill in vain, and were driven to despair. The king embraced his youngest son, and cried, with tears of joy in his eyes,—“Now is Libena yours! Without your help, we should all have died.”“Not so, father,” said the second prince. “Had it not been for my looking-glass we should not have known of your illness. Libena therefore belongs to me.”“No!” cried the eldest prince. “She is mine! Without my carriage you would have died before we could have reached home.”Upon this a violent dispute arose as to which of the princes had won Libena. The king and his courtiers could not but acknowledge the evenly-balanced right of each of the princes to the prize; but that did not help the case, as only one of them could marry Libena. As they could not agree, the king called all the learned men of the kingdom together in his palace, that they might settle the question.The learned men were soon assembled. They sat whole days together, and carried on the dispute even at meal times, but all to no purpose; they could not agree, and consequently arrived at no satisfactory conclusion. At last the king grew wearied of the delay, and thinking to hasten the settlement, announced his intention of being present at their next debate. The learned men prepared themselves for the occasion; and they came to dispute so vigorously in the king’s presence, that at last he clapped his hands to his ears and ran out of the room. And no wonder; for an ordinary man of common sense, had he stayed to hear them but a single day, must certainly have become crazed by their interminable talk.“Your Majesty,” said the Lord Chamberlain, “we shall never come to an end with these gentlemen. They are so comfortable here, that they will stay and dispute to the day of their death.”“You are right,” answered the king, “we shall never finish with such fellows. This is what you shall do: issue a proclamation to the effect that any of my subjects is at liberty to come forward and decide the question.”Two days afterwards the hall where the learned men disputed was thrown open to everybody. The king, the queen, and Libena sat on the throne. Near it were the princes; the eldest with his little carriage, the second with the looking-glass, the youngest empty-handed. Around the hall sat the men of learning who disputed with, if possible, even more violence than usual; not even the presence of the king restrained them. At intervals there appeared several people—some rich, in fine clothes, some poor, in humble apparel—and expressed their opinions of the case; but they had much better have stopped at home.At last the king grew angry, and was about to leave the hall, when there appeared a little old man, with hair as white as milk, who, having bowed to the king, addressed the princes,—“How vain is this long dispute! You all three are equally deserving; but how does the matter stand?—One of you has a miraculous little carriage; another a wonderful looking-glass; but the third has nothing, because his magic apples are eaten. Therefore it is only just that he, who has nothing else, should receive Libena.”The king, full of joy, sprang to his feet. He embraced the old man, exclaiming,—“You have made a wise decision; and it shall be as you say.”The learned gentlemen were ready to faint with surprise and vexation; they never expected so much sense under so common-place a dress. They sat as dumb and still as wood until the king told them that the marriage would be celebrated on the following day, and that they were invited to the ceremony. This seemed to bring them to their senses. They began then to praise, and to express their wonder at the little old man.The two elder princes were fain to be satisfied with the decision, and Libena was happy with the youngest prince for her husband17
Part I: The TreatyMinos, king of Crete, had made war upon Athens. He had come with a great fleet of ships and an army, and had burned the merchant vessels in the harbor, and had overrun all the country and the coast even to Megara, which lies to the west. He had laid waste the fields and gardens round about Athens, had pitched his camp close to the walls, and had sent word to the Athenian rulers that on the morrow he would march into their city with fire and sword and would slay all their young men and would pull down all their houses, even to the Temple of Athena, which stood on the great hill above the town. Then AEgeus, the king of Athens, with the twelve elders who were his helpers, went out to see King Minos and to treat with him.“O mighty king,” they said, “what have we done that you should wish thus to destroy us from the earth?”“O cowardly and shameless men,” answered King Minos, “why do you ask this foolish question, since you can but know the cause of my wrath? I had an only son, Androgeos by name, and he was dearer to me than the hundred cities of Crete and the thousand islands of the sea over which I rule. Three years ago he came hither to take part in the games which you held in honor of Athena, whose temple you have built on yonder hilltop. You know how he overcame all your young men in the sports, and how your people honored him with song and dance and laurel crown. But when your king, this same AEgeus who stands before me now, saw how everybody ran after him and praised his valor, he was filled with envy and laid plans to kill him. Whether he caused armed men to waylay him on the road to Thebes, or whether as some say he sent him against a certain wild bull of your country to be slain by that beast, I know not; but you cannot deny that the young man’s life was taken from him through the plotting of this AEgeus.”“But we do deny it-we do deny it!” cried the elders. “For at that very time our king was sojourning at Troezen on the other side of the Saronic Sea, and he knew nothing of the young prince’s death. We ourselves managed the city’s affairs while he was abroad, and we know whereof we speak. Androgeos was slain, not through the king’s orders but by the king’s nephews, who hoped to rouse your anger against AEgeus so that you would drive him from Athens and leave the kingdom to one of them.”“Will you swear that what you tell me is true?” said Minos.“We will swear it,” they said.“Now then,” said Minos, “you shall hear my decree. Athens has robbed me of my dearest treasure, a treasure that can never be restored to me; so, in return, I require from Athens, as tribute, that possession which is the dearest and most precious to her people; and it shall be destroyed cruelly as my son was destroyed.”“The condition is hard,” said the elders, “but it is just. What is the tribute which you require?”“Has the king a son?” asked Minos.The face of King AEgeus lost all its color and he trembled as he thought of a little child then with its mother at Troezen, on the other side of the Saronic Sea. But the elders knew nothing about that child, and they answered:“Alas, no! he has no son; but he has fifty nephews who are eating up his substance and longing for the time to come when one of them shall be king; and, as we have said, it was they who slew the young prince, Androgeos.”“I have naught to do with those fellows,” said Minos; “you may deal with them as you like. But you ask what is the tribute that I require, and I will tell you. Every year when the springtime comes and the roses begin to bloom, you shall choose seven of your noblest youths and seven of your fairest maidens, and shall send them to me in a ship which your king shall provide. This is the tribute which you shall pay to me, Minos, king of Crete; and if you fail for a single time, or delay even a day, my soldiers shall tear down your walls and burn your city and put your men to the sword and sell your wives and children as slaves.”“We agree to all this, O King,” said the elders; “for it is the least of two evils. But tell us now, what shall be the fate of the seven youths and the seven maidens?”“In Crete,” answered Minos, “there is a house called the Labyrinth, the like of which you have never seen. In it there are a thousand chambers and winding ways, and whosoever goes even a little way into them can never find his way out again. Into this house the seven youths and the seven maidens shall be thrust, and they shall be left there-”“To perish with hunger?” cried the elders.“To be devoured by a monster whom men call the Minotaur,” said Minos.Then King AEgeus and the elders covered their faces and wept and went slowly back into the city to tell their people of the sad and terrible conditions upon which Athens could alone be saved.“It is better that a few should perish than that the whole city should be destroyed,” they said.Part II: The TributeYears passed by. Every spring when the roses began to bloom seven youths and seven maidens were put on board of a black-sailed ship and sent to Crete to pay the tribute which King Minos required. In every house in Athens there was sorrow and dread, and the people lifted up their hands to Athena on the hilltop and cried out, “How long, O Queen of the Air, how long shall this thing be?”In the meanwhile the little child at Troezen on the other side of the sea had grown to be a man. His name, Theseus, was in everybody’s mouth, for he had done great deeds of daring; and at last he had come to Athens to find his father, King AEgeus, who had never heard whether he was alive or dead; and when the youth had made himself known, the king had welcomed him to his home and all the people were glad because so noble a prince had come to dwell among them and, in time, to rule over their city.The springtime came again. The black-sailed ship was rigged for another voyage. The rude Cretan soldiers paraded the streets; and the herald of King Minos stood at the gates and shouted:“Yet three days, O Athenians, and your tribute will be due and must be paid!”Then in every street the doors of the houses were shut and no man went in or out, but every one sat silent with pale cheeks, and wondered whose lot it would be to be chosen this year. But the young prince, Theseus, did not understand; for he had not been told about the tribute.“What is the meaning of all this?” he cried. “What right has a Cretan to demand tribute in Athens? and what is this tribute of which he speaks?”Then AEgeus led him aside and with tears told him of the sad war with King Minos, and of the dreadful terms of peace. “Now, say no more,” sobbed AEgeus, “it is better that a few should die even thus than that all should be destroyed.”“But I will say more,” cried Theseus. “Athens shall not pay tribute to Crete. I myself will go with these youths and maidens, and I will slay the monster Minotaur, and defy King Minos himself upon his throne.”“Oh, do not be so rash!” said the king; “for no one who is thrust into the den of the Minotaur ever comes out again. Remember that you are the hope of Athens, and do not take this great risk upon yourself.”“Say you that I am the hope of Athens?” said Theseus. “Then how can I do otherwise than go?” And he began at once to make himself ready.On the third day all the youths and maidens of the city were brought together in the market place, so that lots might be cast for those who were to be taken. Then two vessels of brass were brought and set before King AEgeus and the herald who had come from Crete. Into one vessel they placed as many balls as there were noble youths in the city, and into the other as many as there were maidens; and all the balls were white save only seven in each vessel, and those were black as ebony.Then every maiden, without looking, reached her hand into one of the vessels and drew forth a ball, and those who took the black balls were borne away to the black ship, which lay in waiting by the shore. The young men also drew lots in like manner, but when six black balls had been drawn Theseus came quickly forward and said:“Hold! Let no more balls be drawn. I will be the seventh youth to pay this tribute. Now let us go aboard the black ship and be off.”Then the people, and King AEgeus himself, went down to the shore to take leave of the young men and maidens, whom they had no hope of seeing again; and all but Theseus wept and were brokenhearted.“I will come again, father,” he said.“I will hope that you may,” said the old king. “If when this ship returns, I see a white sail spread above the black one, then I shall know that you are alive and well; but if I see only the black one, it will tell me that you have perished.”And now the vessel was loosed from its moorings, the north wind filled the sail, and the seven youths and seven maidens were borne away over the sea, towards the dreadful death which awaited them in far distant Crete.Part III: The PrincessAt last the black ship reached the end of its voyage. The young people were set ashore, and a party of soldiers led them through the streets towards the prison, where they were to stay until the morrow. They did not weep nor cry out now, for they had outgrown their fears. But with paler faces and firm-set lips, they walked between the rows of Cretan houses, and looked neither to the right nor to the left. The windows and doors were full of people who were eager to see them.“What a pity that such brave young men should be food for the Minotaur,” said some.“Ah, that maidens so beautiful should meet a fate so sad!” said others.And now they passed close by the palace gate, and in it stood King Minos himself, and his daughter Ariadne, the fairest of the women of Crete.“Indeed, those are noble young fellows!” said the king.“Yes, too noble to feed the vile Minotaur,” said Ariadne.“The nobler, the better,” said the king; “and yet none of them can compare with your lost brother Androgeos.”Ariadne said no more; and yet she thought that she had never seen any one who looked so much like a hero as young Theseus. How tall he was, and how handsome! How proud his eye, and how firm his step! Surely there had never been his like in Crete.All through that night Ariadne lay awake and thought of the matchless hero, and grieved that he should be doomed to perish; and then she began to lay plans for setting him free. At the earliest peep of day she arose, and while everybody else was asleep, she ran out of the palace and hurried to the prison. As she was the king’s daughter, the jailer opened the door at her bidding and allowed her to go in. There sat the seven youths and the seven maidens on the ground, but they had not lost hope. She took Theseus aside and whispered to him. She told him of a plan which she had made to save him; and Theseus promised her that, when he had slain the Minotaur, he would carry her away with him to Athens where she should live with him always. Then she gave him a sharp sword, and hid it underneath his cloak, telling him that with it alone could he hope to slay the Minotaur.“And here is a ball of silken thread,” she said. “As soon as you go into the Labyrinth where the monster is kept, fasten one end of the thread to the stone doorpost, and then unwind it as you go along. When you have slain the Minotaur, you have only to follow the thread and it will lead you back to the door. In the meanwhile I will see that your ship, is ready to sail, and then I will wait for you at the door of the Labyrinth.”Theseus thanked the beautiful princess and promised her again that if he should live to go back to Athens she should go with him and be his wife. Then with a prayer to Athena, Ariadne hastened away.Part IV: The LabyrinthAs soon as the sun was up the guards came to lead the young prisoners to the Labyrinth. They did not see the sword which Theseus had under his cloak, nor the tiny ball of silk which he held in his closed hand. They led the youths and maidens a long way into the Labyrinth, turning here and there, back and forth, a thousand different times, until it seemed certain that they could never find their way out again. Then the guards, by a secret passage which they alone knew, went out and left them, as they had left many others before, to wander about until they should be found by the terrible Minotaur.“Stay close by me,” said Theseus to his companions, “and with the help of Athena who dwells in her temple home in our own fair city, I will save you.”Then he drew his sword and stood in the narrow way before them; and they all lifted up their hands and prayed to Athena.For hours they stood there, hearing no sound, and seeing nothing but the smooth, high walls on either side of the passage and the calm blue sky so high above them. Then the maidens sat down upon the ground and covered their faces and sobbed, and said:“Oh, that he would come and put an end to our misery and our lives.”At last, late in the day, they heard a bellowing, low and faint as though far away. They listened and soon heard it again, a little louder and very fierce and dreadful.“It is he! it is he!” cried Theseus; “and now for the fight!”Then he shouted, so loudly that the walls of the Labyrinth answered back, and the sound was carried upward to the sky and outward to the rocks and cliffs of the mountains. The Minotaur heard him, and his bellowings grew louder and fiercer every moment.“He is coming!” cried Theseus, and he ran forward to meet the beast. The seven maidens shrieked, but tried to stand up bravely and face their fate; and the six young men stood together with firm-set teeth and clinched fists, ready to fight to the last.Soon the Minotaur came into view, rushing down the passage towards Theseus, and roaring most terribly. He was twice as tall as a man, and his head was like that of a bull with huge sharp horns and fiery eyes and a mouth as large as a lion’s; but the young men could not see the lower part of his body for the cloud of dust which he raised in running. When he saw Theseus with the sword in his hand coming to meet him, he paused, for no one had ever faced him in that way before. Then he put his head down, and rushed forward, bellowing. But Theseus leaped quickly aside, and made a sharp thrust with his sword as he passed, and hewed off one of the monster’s legs above the knee.The Minotaur fell upon the ground, roaring and groaning and beating wildly about with his horned head and his hoof-like fists; but Theseus nimbly ran up to him and thrust the sword into his heart, and was away again before the beast could harm him. A great stream of blood gushed from the wound, and soon the Minotaur turned his face towards the sky and was dead.Then the youths and maidens ran to Theseus and kissed his hands and feet, and thanked him for his great deed; and, as it was already growing dark, Theseus bade them follow him while he wound up the silken thread which was to lead them out of the Labyrinth. Through a thousand rooms and courts and winding ways they went, and at midnight they came to the outer door and saw the city lying in the moonlight before them; and, only a little way off, was the seashore where the black ship was moored which had brought them to Crete. The door was wide open, and beside it stood Ariadne waiting for them.“The wind is fair, the sea is smooth, and the sailors are ready,” she whispered; and she took the arm of Theseus, and all went together through the silent streets to the ship.When the morning dawned they were far out to sea, and, looking back from the deck of the little vessel, only the white tops of the Cretan mountains were in sight.Minos, when he arose from sleep, did not know that the youths and maidens had gotten safe out of the Labyrinth. But when Ariadne could not be found, he thought that robbers had carried her away. He sent soldiers out to search for her among the hills and mountains, never dreaming that she was now well on the way towards distant Athens.Many days passed, and at last the searchers returned and said that the princess could nowhere be found. Then the king covered his head and wept, and said:“Now, indeed, I am bereft of all my treasures!”In the meanwhile, King AEgeus of Athens had sat day after day on a rock by the shore, looking and watching if by chance he might see a ship coming from the south. At last the vessel with Theseus and his companions hove in sight, but it still carried only the black sail, for in their joy the young men had forgotten to raise the white one.“Alas! alas! my son has perished!” moaned AEgeus; and he fainted and fell forward into the sea and was drowned. And that sea, from then until now, has been called by his name, the Aegean Sea.Thus Theseus became king of Athens.
Once upon a time, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed.By chance a poor Brahman came by. “Let me out of this cage, oh pious one!” cried the tiger.“Nay, my friend,” replied the Brahman mildly, “you would probably eat me if I did.”“Not at all!” swore the tiger with many oaths; “on the contrary, I should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!”Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious Brahman’s heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, “What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!”In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to question as to the justice of the tiger’s action.So the Brahman first asked a pipal tree what it thought of the matter, but the pipal tree replied coldly, “What have you to complain about? Don’t I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don’t they in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don’t whimper—be a man!”Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it answered, “You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Whilst I gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!”The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.“My dear sir,” said the road, “how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!”On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a jackal, who called out, “Why, what’s the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look as miserable as a fish out of water!”The Brahman told him all that had occurred. “How very confusing!” said the jackal, when the recital was ended; “would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed up?”The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a distracted sort of way, and still could not understand.“It’s very odd,” said he, sadly, “but it all seems to go in at one ear and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.”So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for theBrahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws.“You’ve been away a long time!” growled the savage beast, “but now let us begin our dinner.”“Our dinner!” thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked together with fright; “what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!”“Give me five minutes, my lord!” he pleaded, “in order that I may explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.”The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.“Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!” cried the jackal, wringing its paws. “Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the tiger came walking by—”“Pooh!” interrupted the tiger, “what a fool you are! I was in the cage.”“Of course!” cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; “yes! I was in the cage—no I wasn’t—dear! dear! where are my wits? Let me see—the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by—no, that’s not it, either! Well, don’t mind me, but begin your dinner, for I shall never understand!”“Yes, you shall!” returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal’s stupidity; “I’ll make you understand! Look here—I am the tiger—”“Yes, my lord!”“And that is the Brahman—”“Yes, my lord!”“And that is the cage—”“Yes, my lord!”“And I was in the cage—do you understand?”“Yes—no—Please, my lord—”“Well?” cried the tiger impatiently.“Please, my lord!—how did you get in?”“How!—why in the usual way, of course!”“Oh, dear me!—my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don’t be angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?”At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried,“This way! Now do you understand how it was?”“Perfectly!” grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, “and if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they were!”
Loke was a mischievous fellow. He was always getting the other gods into trouble. Sometimes they shut him up. But they always let him out, because he was so cunning that he could help them to do things they could not do for themselves.Once he crossed the rainbow bridge to Jotunheim, the land of the giants, and brought home a giantess for his wife.Very strange children Loke had. One of them was the Fenris-wolf . He was named Fenrer. All the gods knew he was a wolf as soon as they saw him.But he went about among the children, playing with them like a good-natured dog, and the gods thought there was no harm in him.Fenrer grew larger and larger, and the gods began to look at him with distrust. They feared he might some day grow too strong for them.But Fenrer always looked good-natured, and harmed no one. He did not even show that he had great strength. So the gods could not have the heart to kill him.But they put it off too long. One day they found Fenrer had grown so strong that it was almost too late to do anything with him.All the gods worked day and night until they had forged a chain they thought strong enough to hind the wolf.Knowing they could not bind Fenrer against his will, all the gods came together for games. Thor crushed mountains with his hammer. The other gods showed their strength by lifting, and leaping, and wrestling.Then they brought out the chain and told Fenrer to let them bind him with it, so that he might show his strength by breaking it.Fenrer knew that he could break the chain, so he allowed himself to be bound. He only drew in a deep breath and the chain dropped into pieces.Then the gods forged a chain twice as strong as the first. Fenrer saw that this chain would be hard to break. But breaking the first chain had made him stronger. So he allowed this one to he put on him.This, too, he broke, and the gods were in despair. They knew they could never make a stronger chain, and they feared the wolf more than ever.Odin took his horse, Sleipner, and went on a seven days’ journey to the home of the dwarfs. They lived deep down in the earth, and had charge of the gold and diamonds and all other precious things. They were the most cunning of blacksmiths.When Odin told the little people what he wanted, they all cried, “Never fear, Father Odin! We can make a chain that will bind the wolf.”When the chain was made it was as light and delicate as a spider’s web, but Odin knew it could never be broken. As soon as Fenrer saw the chain, he was afraid of it. He knew if it were only a cobweb they never care to put it on him. would not allow himself to be bound unless a god’s hand was put into his mouth. At this the gods only looked at one another. After a little time, Tyr, the bravest of all the gods, put his hand into the wolf’s mouth.The moment the chain touched Fenrer he knew he could never break it, and he bit off the god’s hand.But the Fenris-wolf was bound forever.
When the moon has a green rim with red meat inside and black seeds on the red meat, then in the Rootabaga Country they call it a Watermelon Moon and look for anything to happen. It was a night when a Watermelon Moon was shining. Lizzie Lazarus came to the upstairs room of the Potato Face Blind Man. Poker Face the Baboon and Hot Dog the Tiger were with her. She was leading them with a pink string.“You see they are wearing pajamas,” she said. “They sleep with you tonight and to-morrow they go to work with you like mascots.”“How like mascots?” asked the Potato Face Blind Man. “They are luck bringers. They keep your good luck if it is good. They change your bad luck if it is bad.”“I hear you and my ears get your explanations.”So the next morning when the Potato Face Blind Man sat down to play his accordion on the corner nearest the post office in the Village of Liver-and-Onions, next to him on the right hand side sitting on the sidewalk was Poker Face the Baboon and on the left hand side sitting next to him was Hot Dog the Tiger. They looked like dummies they were so quiet. They looked as if they were made of wood and paper and then painted. In the eyes of Poker Face was something faraway. In the eyes of Hot Dog was something hungry.Whitson Whimble, the patent clothes wringer manufacturer, came by in his big limousine automobile car without horses to pull it. He was sitting back on the leather upholstered seat cushions. “Stop here,” he commanded the chauffeur driving the car. Then Whitson Whimble sat looking. First he looked into the eyes of Poker Face the Baboon and saw something faraway. Then he looked into the eyes of Hot Dog the Tiger and saw something hungry. Then he read the sign painted by the Potato Face Blind Man saying, “You look at ’em and see ’em ; I look at ’em and I don’t. You watch what their eyes say; I can only feel their hair.”Then Whitson Whimble commanded the chauffeur driving the car, “Go on.”Fifteen minutes later a man in overalls came down Main Street with a wheelbarrow. He stopped in front of the Potato Face Blind Man, Poker Face the Baboon, and Hot Dog the Tiger. “Where is the aluminum dishpan? ” he asked.“On my left side on the sidewalk,” answered the Potato Face Blind Man.“Where is the galvanized iron washtub?”“On my right side on the sidewalk.”Then the man in overalls took a shovel and began shoveling silver dollars out of the wheelbarrow into the aluminum dishpan and the galvanized iron washtub. He shoveled out of the wheelbarrow till the dishpan was full, till the washtub was full. Then he put the shovel into the wheelbarrow and went up Main Street. Six o’clock that night Pick Ups came along.The Potato Face Blind Man said to him, “I have to carry home a heavy load of money to-night, an aluminum dishpan full of silver dollars and a galvanized iron washtub full of silver dollars. So I ask you, will you take care of Poker Face the Baboon and Hot Dog the Tiger?”“Yes,” said Pick Ups, “I will.” And he did. He tied a pink string to their legs and took them home and put them in the woodshed. Poker Face the Baboon went to sleep on the soft coal at the north end of the woodshed and when he was asleep, his face had something faraway in it and he was so quiet he looked like a dummy with brown hair of the jungle painted on his black skin and a black nose painted on his brown face. Hot Dog the Tiger went to sleep on the hard coal at the south end of the woodshed and when he was asleep his eyelashes had something hungry in them and he looked like a painted dummy with black stripes painted over his yellow belly and a black spot painted away at the end of his long yellow tail. In the morning the woodshed was empty.Pick Ups told the Potato Face Blind Man, “They left a note in their own handwriting on perfumed pink paper. It said, ‘Mascots never stay long.’ ”And that is why for many years the Potato Face Blind Man had silver dollars to spend and that is why many people in the Rootabaga Country keep their eyes open for a Watermelon Moon in the sky with a green rim and red meat inside and black seeds making spots on the red meat.
There was once a young housewife named Lidushka. One day while she was washing clothes in the river a great frog, all bloated and ugly, swam up to her. Lidushka jumped back in fright. The frog spread itself out on the water, just where Lidushka had been rinsing her clothes, and sat there working its jaws as if it wanted to say something.“Shoo!” Lidushka cried, but the frog stayed where it was and kept on working its jaws.“You ugly old bloated thing! What do you want and why do you sit there gaping at me?”Lidushka struck at the frog with a piece of linen to drive it off so that she could go on with her work. The frog dived, came up at another place, and at once swam back to Lidushka.Lidushka tried again and again to drive it away. Each time she struck at it, the frog dived, came up at another place, and then swam back. At last Lidushka lost all patience.“Go away, you old fat thing!” she screamed. “I have to finish my wash! Go away, I tell you, and when your babies come I’ll be their godmother! Do you hear?”As if it accepted this as a promise, the frog croaked: “All right! All right! All right!” and swam off.Some time after this, when Lidushka was again doing her washing at the river, the same old frog appeared not looking now so fat and bloated.“Come! Come, my dear!” it croaked. “You remember your promise! You said you’d be godmother to my babies. You must come with me now for we’re having the christening today.”Lidushka, of course, had spoken jokingly, but even so a promise is a promise and must not be broken.“But, you foolish frog,” she said, “how can I be godmother to your babies? I can’t go down in the water.”“Yes, you can!” the old frog croaked. “Come on! Come on! Come with me!”It began swimming upstream and Lidushka followed, walking along the shore and feeling every moment more frightened.The old frog swam on until it reached the mill-dam. Then it said to Lidushka:“Now, my dear, don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid! Just lift that stone in front of you. Under it you’ll find a flight of stairs that lead straight down to my house. I’ll go on ahead. Do as I say and you can’t miss the way.”The frog disappeared in the water and Lidushka lifted the stone. Sure enough there was a flight of stairs going down under the mill-dam. And what kind of stairs do you suppose they were? They were not made of wood or stone but of great solid blocks of water, laid one on another, transparent and clear as crystal.Lidushka timidly went down one step, then another, and another, until halfway down she was met by the old frog who welcomed her with many noisy croaks.“This way, dear godmother! This way! Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid!”Lidushka picked up courage and took the remaining stairs more bravely. The frog then led her to its house which, like the stairs, was built of beautiful crystal water, sparkling and transparent.Inside everything was in readiness for the christening. Lidushka at once took the baby frogs in her arms and held them during the ceremony.After the christening came a mighty feast to which many frogs from near and far had been invited. The old frog presented them all to Lidushka and they made much ado over her, hopping about her and croaking out noisy compliments.Fish course after fish course was served—nothing but fish, prepared in every possible manner: boiled and broiled and fried and pickled. And there was every possible kind of fish: the finest carp and pike and mullet and trout and whiting and perch and many more of which Lidushka didn’t even know the names.When she had eaten all she could, Lidushka slipped away from the other guests and wandered off alone through the house.She opened by chance a door that led into a sort of pantry. It was lined with long shelves and on the shelves were rows and rows of little earthenware pots all turned upside down. It seemed strange to Lidushka that they should all be upside down and she wondered why.She lifted one pot up and under it she found a lovely white dove. The dove, happy at being released, shook out its plumage, spread its wings, and flew away.Lidushka lifted a second pot and under it there was another lovely dove which at once spread its fluttering wings and flew off as happy as its fellow.Lidushka lifted up a third pot and there was a third dove.“There must be doves under all these pots!” she told herself. “What cruel creature has imprisoned them, I wonder? As the dear God has given man a soul to live forever, so He has given the birds wings to fly, and He never intended them to be imprisoned under dark pots. Wait, dear doves, and I’ll set you all free!”So Lidushka lifted pot after pot and from under every one of them an imprisoned dove escaped and flew joyously away.Just as she had lifted the last pot, the old frog came hopping in to her in great excitement.“Oh, my dear, my dear!” she croaked. “What have you done setting free all those souls! Quick and get you a lump of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread or my husband will catch you and take your soul! Here he comes now!”Lidushka looked up through the crystal walls of the house but could see no one coming. Then in the distance she saw some beautiful bright red streamers floating towards her on the top of the water. They came nearer and nearer.“Oh!” she thought to herself in sudden fright. “Those must be the red streamers of a nickerman!”Instantly she remembered the stories her grandmother used to tell her when she was a child, how the wicked nickerman lured people to their death with bright red streamers. Many an innocent maid, haying along the river, has seen the lovely streamers in the water and reached after them with her rake. That is what the nickerman wants her to do for then he can catch her and drag her down, down, down, under the water where he drowns her and takes her soul. The nickerman is so powerful that, if once he gets you, he can drown you in a teaspoon of water! But if you clutch in your hand a clod of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread, then he is powerless to harm you.“Oh!” Lidushka cried. “Now I understand! Those white doves were the souls of poor innocents whom this wicked nickerman has drowned! God help me to escape him!”“Hurry, my dear, hurry!” the old frog croaked. “Run up the crystal stairs and replace the stone!”Lidushka flew up the stairs and as she reached the top she clutched a handful of dry earth. Then she replaced the stone and the water flowed over the stairs.The nickerman spread out his red streamers close to the shore and tried to catch her, but she was not to be tempted.“I know who you are!” she cried, holding tight her handful of dry earth. “You’ll never get my soul! And you’ll never again imprison under your black pots all the poor innocent souls I liberated!”Years afterwards when Lidushka had children of her own, she used to tell them this story and say to them:“And now, my dears, you know why it is dangerous to reach out in the water for a red streamer or a pretty water lily. The wicked nickerman may be there just waiting to catch you.”
A POOR old woman lived in a smoky little cabin in the woods. She was only skin and bones and she cried all the time, both day and night. Her blanket was so old and dirty that nobody could have told of what kind of skin it was made.This old woman had had seven daughters. Six had been carried off, one after another; the seventh daughter died.The daughter who died had been buried some time when one night her mother heard crying. She took a torch and going out toward the grave found a naked baby. She wrapped the baby in her blanket and took it home.The baby, a little boy, grew very fast. One day when the grandmother came home from gathering wood he was not in the house and she couldn’t find him.That night there was a storm with thunder and lightning. In the morning when the child came back the grandmother asked, “Where have you been, my grandson?”“I have been with my father; he took me home with him.”“Who is your father?”“HÍNO’ is my father. He took me home first, then we came back and were around here all night.”“Was my daughter your mother?” asked the old woman.“She was,” answered the boy, “and HÍNO’ is my father.”The old woman believed her grandson. As the boy grew he often made a noise like the noise of thunder and whenever HÍNO’ came to the neighborhood the child went out and helped his father; he was HÍNO’HOHÁWAnK, son of HÍNO’.After a time the boy asked his grandmother where his six aunts were, and she said, “Far from here there is a mother and son who live by playing dice. Your aunts went there with a company of people; they played, were beaten and their heads were cut off. Many men and women have gone to the same place and have lost their heads.”“I will go and kill that woman and her son,” said the boy.The grandmother tried to keep him at home but he wouldn’t stay with her. He was ragged and dirty. He asked her to make him two pairs of moccasins. She made them, and, for a pouch, she gave him the skin of a flying squirrel.The boy started off toward the West and after a while he came to a large opening where there was a bark house with a pole in front of it, and on the pole hung a skin blanket. He heard a great noise and saw that at one end of the opening old men were betting and boys were playing ball.When people saw him, one said to another, “Who is that boy? Where did he come from?”Soon an old man went up to HÍNO’HOHÁWAnK, gave him a club and asked him to play.He played ball so well that the same man came to him, and said, “We want you to play dice, my people will bet on you.“I don’t know how to play dice,” answered the boy.“We will risk our heads on you,” said the man.Young HÍNO’ followed the old man to the pole that stood by the bark house. The betting woman was sitting there on an elk skin. In front of her was a white stone bowl as smooth as glass. HÍNO’HOHÁWAnK knelt down beside the bowl.The woman said, “You must play first.”“No,” said he, “you must play first.”The woman took up her dice, which were round and made out of stone. She blew on them, threw them into the bowl, shook the bowl, and called out, “Game! Game!”The dice flew up in the air, became crows and cawed as they went out of sight. Soon they came down, cawing; as they touched the bowl they were stones again.The woman had three plays in which to get a count of seventeen. She threw three times, but made no score. Then young HÍNO’ took dice out of his pouch made of the skin of a flying squirrel. The woman insisted on his using her dice, but he refused. He put his dice in the bowl and shook the bowl. The dice became wild ducks and flew into the air.The ducks went very high, all the people heard them as they rose. When they came down and touched the bowl they were stones and scored ten.HÍNO’ shook the bowl again, and called “Game! Game!”The old woman called “No game! No game!”The ducks flew up and when they came down they scored another ten. He tried a third time and scored ten, then he called to the people to come and see him cut off the head of the betting woman.“Wait,” said the woman, “You must play ball with my son. If he loses, he will lose his head.”HÍNO’ asked the old men what he should do. Seeing how powerful he was, they said, “Play.”He went to the ball ground–he was ragged and looked very poor. Only the two played. HÍNO’HOHÁWAnK sprang forward and knocked the club out of YEGEnHDJI’s hand. The young man ran for his club, but before he could get it, HÍNO’HOHÁ sent the ball through the goal. This was repeated seven times, and HÍNO’’s son won the game.Then he said to the people, “Now you can destroy the old woman and her son.”They did. Then the young boy said, “I am going to bring my grandmother to this place and we will have this long house to live in.”As he traveled toward home, he sang praises of himself, and his grandmother heard him when he was a long way off. When he came to the cabin he told her what he had done, and said, “We must go there and live in the long house.”She made ready and started, but it took a long time to reach the place, for friends went with them. When all had settled in houses built around the opening HÍNO’HOHÁ called the people to the long house for a dance. The grandmother threw away her old blanket and put on the clothes left by the gambling woman and then she looked like a young girl.After a time HÍNO’HOHÁ went off with HÍNO’, his father, and stayed with him all Winter.When Spring came the grandmother was uneasy about the boy, but one day she heard Thunder off in the West and soon her grandson came to the cabin.“Where have you been?” asked she.“On a great mountain far off in the West. I have been with my father, helping the nations and protecting men.”The boy stayed with his grandmother that Spring and Summer. Once in a while when it began to storm, he went away, but he always came back when the storm was over. The two lived a long time in this way, but at last the boy said, “You have a brother living in the West. Some wizard stole him from you. I must go and find him.”And he went West to look for his uncle.HÍNO’HOHÁ traveled till he came to a cabin. In the cabin a woman was sitting by a fire. When he asked where his uncle was she wouldn’t answer. Taking his war club from his pouch, he struck her on the head and killed her. Then he went out and walked around the house, mourning and looking for his uncle. At last he heard a man groaning. He looked up in the trees for he couldn’t see anyone on the ground, but the man was not in a tree.He followed the sound and soon came to a large slippery elm tree. A man lay under the tree; he was held do, down by great roots; his head came out between two roots on one side and his feet between two roots on the other side. The tree stood on the middle of his body. He was calling to his nephew to give him a smoke.HÍNO’HOHÁ said, “Oh, my poor uncle, how badly off you are! I will give you a smoke right away.”He kicked the tree over, saying, “Rise up, uncle!”The man stood up at once, and was well. HÍNO’HOHÁ took out his pouch and gave the old man a stone pipe and Indian tobacco, and he grew strong. Then he told his nephew how a woman had enticed him to go with her, then she ate him up and put his bones under the elm tree, The uncle and nephew went to the long house. The old grandmother was surprised and glad and the three lived happily together till one day the nephew went off in a storm and when the storm was over he brought back a wife. Then when be went off with a storm his wife was uneasy. The woman didn’t know where she was from. In a terrible storm HÍNO’HOHÁ had brought her home on his back.After a time she had a son and when the boy was old enough to run around, the uncle, whose bones had lain under the elm tree, began to teach him, and soon the child was able to make a noise like the roar of thunder.One day the child followed his mother out of the house; he had a little dog and that followed too. As the boy was running along somebody seized him and rushed off. The dog ran after him, and, jumping to snatch him away, caught hold of his feet and pulled off his moccasins; the dog carried the moccasins home.When the mother saw the moccasins, she knew that her boy was gone. The father was off in a storm. When he came home the woman asked if he had taken the boy away.“I have not,” said he.“Oh, he is lost; he is lost!” cried the woman.“He is safe,” said HÍNO’HOHÁ. “He has many relatives around the world, uncles and cousins.”The boy was gone all Winter, but one day in Spring he came home with his father. Then HÍNO’HOHÁ said to his family, “We must all go and live with my father.”The old grandmother said, “I can’t go; it is far and I am old.”“I will carry you,” said the grandson.Then HÍNO’HOHÁ began to thunder, and lightning flew around. The long house was torn to pieces and blazed up in flames. All the rocks and houses and trees in the opening were destroyed. HÍNO’HOHÁ and his people rose up in the air. The East wind blew and it bore them to the high mountain in the West and there they found old HÍNO’.And to this day the Thunder family live on that mountain in caves and among rocks.
Once upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn’t in my time, nor in your time, nor any one else’s time, there was a young lad of eighteen or so named Tom Tiver working on the Hall Farm. One Sunday he was walking across the west field, ‘t was a beautiful July night, warm and still and the air was full of little sounds as though the trees and grass were chattering to themselves. And all at once there came a bit ahead of him the pitifullest greetings ever he heard, sob, sobbing, like a bairn spent with fear, and nigh heartbroken; breaking off into a moan and then rising again in a long whimpering wailing that made him feel sick to hark to it. He began to look everywhere for the poor creature. “It must be Sally Bratton’s child,” he thought to himself; “she was always a flighty thing, and never looked after it. Like as not, she’s flaunting about the lanes, and has clean forgot the babby.” But though he looked and looked, he could see nought. And presently the whimpering got louder and stronger in the quietness, and he thought he could make out words of some sort. He hearkened with all his ears, and the sorry thing was saying words all mixed up with sobbing—“Ooh! the stone, the great big stone! ooh! the stones on top!”Naturally he wondered where the stone might be, and he looked again, and there by the hedge bottom was a great flat stone, nigh buried in the mools, and hid in the cotted grass and weeds. One of the stones was called the “Strangers’ Table.” However, down he fell on his knee-bones by that stone, and hearkened again. Clearer than ever, but tired and spent with greeting came the little sobbing voice—”Ooh! ooh! the stone, the stone on top.” He was gey, and mis-liking to meddle with the thing, but he couldn’t stand the whimpering babby, and he tore like mad at the stone, till he felt it lifting from the mools, and all at once it came with a sough out o’ the damp earth and the tangled grass and growing things. And there in the hole lay a tiddy thing on its back, blinking up at the moon and at him. ‘T was no bigger than a year-old baby, but it had long cotted hair and beard, twisted round and round its body so that you couldn’t see its clothes; and the hair was all yaller and shining and silky, like a bairn’s; but the face of it was old and as if ‘t were hundreds of years since ‘t was young and smooth. Just a heap of wrinkles, and two bright black eyne in the midst, set in a lot of shining yaller hair; and the skin was the colour of the fresh turned earth in the spring—brown as brown could be, and its bare hands and feet were brown like the face of it. The greeting had stopped, but the tears were standing on its cheek, and the tiddy thing looked mazed like in the moonshine and the night air.The creature’s eyne got used like to the moonlight, and presently he looked up in Tom’s face as bold as ever was; “Tom,” says he, “thou ‘rt a good lad!” as cool as thou can think, says he, “Tom, thou ‘rt a good lad!” and his voice was soft and high and piping like a little bird twittering.Tom touched his hat, and began to think what he ought to say. “Houts!” says the thing again, “thou needn’t be feared o’ me; thou ‘st done me a better turn than thou know’st, my lad, and I’ll do as much for thee.” Tom couldn’t speak yet, but he thought; “Lord! for sure ‘t is a bogle!”“No!” says he as quick as quick, “I am no bogle, but ye ‘d best not ask me what I be; anyways I be a good friend o’ thine.” Tom’s very knee-bones struck, for certainly an ordinary body couldn’t have known what he’d been thinking to himself, but he looked so kind like, and spoke so fair, that he made bold to get out, a bit quavery like—“Might I be axing to know your honour’s name?”“H’m,” says he, pulling his beard; “as for that”—and he thought a bit—”ay so,” he went on at last, “Yallery Brown thou mayst call me, Yallery Brown; ‘t is my nature seest thou, and as for a name ‘t will do as any other. Yallery Brown, Tom, Yallery Brown’s thy friend, my lad.”“Thankee, master,” says Tom, quite meek like.“And now,” he says, “I’m in a hurry to-night, but tell me quick, what’ll I do for thee? Wilt have a wife? I can give thee the finest lass in the town. Wilt be rich? I’ll give thee gold as much as thou can carry. Or wilt have help wi’ thy work? Only say the word.”Tom scratched his head. “Well, as for a wife, I have no hankering after such; they’re but bothersome bodies, and I have women folk at home as ‘ll mend my clouts; and for gold that’s as may be, but for work, there, I can’t abide work, and if thou ‘lt give me a helpin’ hand in it I’ll thank—”“Stop,” says he, quick as lightning, “I’ll help thee and welcome, but if ever thou sayest that to me—if ever thou thankest me, see’st thou, thou ‘lt never see me more. Mind that now; I want no thanks, I’ll have no thanks;” and he stampt his tiddy foot on the earth and looked as wicked as a raging bull.“Mind that now, great lump that thou be,” he went on, calming down a bit, “and if ever thou need’st help, or get’st into trouble, call on me and just say, ‘Yallery Brown, come from the mools, I want thee!’ and I’ll be wi’ thee at once; and now,” says he, picking a dandelion puff, “good-night to thee,” and he blowed it up, and it all came into Tom’s eyne and ears. Soon as Tom could see again the tiddy creature was gone, and but for the stone on end and the hole at his feet, he’d have thought he’d been dreaming.Well, Tom went home and to bed; and by the morning he’d nigh forgot all about it. But when he went to the work, there was none to do! all was done already, the horses seen to, the stables cleaned out, everything in its proper place, and he’d nothing to do but sit with his hands in his pockets. And so it went on day after day, all the work done by Yallery Brown, and better done, too, than he could have done it himself. And if the master gave him more work, he sat down, and the work did itself, the singeing irons, or the broom, or what not, set to, and with ne’er a hand put to it would get through in no time. For he never saw Yallery Brown in daylight; only in the darklins he saw him hopping about, like a Will-o-th’-wyke without his lanthorn.At first ‘t was mighty fine for Tom; he’d nought to do and good pay for it; but by-and-by things began to grow vicey-varsy. If the work was done for Tom, ‘t was undone for the other lads; if his buckets were filled, theirs were upset; if his tools were sharpened, theirs were blunted and spoiled; if his horses were clean as daisies, theirs were splashed with muck, and so on; day in and day out, ‘t was the same. And the lads saw Yallery Brown flitting about o’ nights, and they saw the things working without hands o’ days, and they saw that Tom’s work was done for him, and theirs undone for them; and naturally they begun to look shy on him, and they wouldn’t speak or come nigh him, and they carried tales to the master and so things went from bad to worse.For Tom could do nothing himself; the brooms wouldn’t stay in his hand, the plough ran away from him, the hoe kept out of his grip. He thought that he’d do his own work after all, so that Yallery Brown would leave him and his neighbours alone. But he couldn’t—true as death he couldn’t. He could only sit by and look on, and have the cold shoulder turned on him, while the unnatural thing was meddling with the others, and working for him.At last, things got so bad that the master gave Tom the sack, and if he hadn’t, all the rest of the lads would have sacked him, for they swore they’d not stay on the same garth with Tom. Well, naturally Tom felt bad; ‘t was a very good place, and good pay too; and he was fair mad with Yallery Brown, as ‘d got him into such a trouble. So Tom shook his fist in the air and called out as loud as he could, “Yallery Brown, come from the mools; thou scamp, I want thee!”You’ll scarce believe it, but he’d hardly brought out the words but he felt something tweaking his leg behind, while he jumped with the smart of it; and soon as he looked down, there was the tiddy thing, with his shining hair, and wrinkled face, and wicked glinting black eyne.Tom was in a fine rage, and he would have liked to have kicked him, but ‘t was no good, there wasn’t enough of it to get his boot against; but he said, “Look here, master, I’ll thank thee to leave me alone after this, dost hear? I want none of thy help, and I’ll have nought more to do with thee—see now.”The horrid thing broke into a screeching laugh, and pointed its brown finger at Tom. “Ho, ho, Tom!” says he. “Thou ‘st thanked me, my lad, and I told thee not, I told thee not!”“I don’t want thy help, I tell thee,” Tom yelled at him—”I only want never to see thee again, and to have nought more to do with ‘ee—thou can go.”The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked, as long as Tom went on swearing, but so soon as his breath gave out—“Tom, my lad,” he said with a grin, “I’ll tell ‘ee summat, Tom. True’s true I’ll never help thee again, and call as thou wilt, thou ‘lt never see me after to-day; but I never said that I’d leave thee alone, Tom, and I never will, my lad! I was nice and safe under the stone, Tom, and could do no harm; but thou let me out thyself, and thou can’t put me back again! I would have been thy friend and worked for thee if thou had been wise; but since thou bee’st no more than a born fool I’ll give ‘ee no more than a born fool’s luck; and when all goes vicey-varsy, and everything agee—thou ‘lt mind that it’s Yallery Brown’s doing though m’appen thou doesn’t see him. Mark my words, will ‘ee?”And he began to sing, dancing round Tom, like a bairn with his yellow hair, but looking older than ever with his grinning wrinkled bit of a face:“Work as thou willThou ‘lt never do well;Work as thou maystThou ‘lt never gain grist;For harm and mischance and Yallery BrownThou ‘st let out thyself from under the stone.”Tom could never rightly mind what he said next. ‘T was all cussing and calling down misfortune on him; but he was so mazed in fright that he could only stand there shaking all over, and staring down at the horrid thing; and if he’d gone on long, Tom would have tumbled down in a fit. But by-and-by, his yaller shining hair rose up in the air, and wrapt itself round him till he looked for all the world like a great dandelion puff; and it floated away on the wind over the wall and out o’ sight, with a parting skirl of wicked voice and sneering laugh.And did it come true, sayst thou? My word! but it did, sure as death! He worked here and he worked there, and turned his hand to this and to that, but it always went agee, and ‘t was all Yallery Brown’s doing. And the children died, and the crops rotted—the beasts never fatted, and nothing ever did well with him; and till he was dead and buried, and m’appen even afterwards, there was no end to Yallery Brown’s spite at him; day in and day out he used to hear him saying—“Work as thou wiltThou ‘lt never do well;Work as thou maystThou ‘lt never gain grist;For harm and mischance and Yallery BrownThou ‘st let out thyself from under the stone.”
The mother of Hans said, “Whither away, Hans?” Hans answered, “To Grethel.” “Behave well, Hans.” “Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.” Hans comes to Grethel, “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans. What dost thou bring that is good?” “I bring nothing, I want to have something given me.” Grethel presents Hans with a needle. Hans says, “Good-bye, Grethel.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay-cart, and follows the cart home. “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” “What didst thou take her?” “Took nothing; had something given me.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “Gave me a needle.” “Where is the needle, Hans?” “Stuck in the hay-cart.” “That was ill done, Hans. Thou shouldst have stuck the needle in thy sleeve.” “Never mind, I’ll do better next time.”“Whither away, Hans?” “To Grethel, mother.” “Behave well, Hans.” “Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans. What dost thou bring that is good?” “I bring nothing, I want to have something given to me.” Grethel presents Hans with a knife. “Good-bye, Grethel.” “Good-bye, Hans.” Hans takes the knife, sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home. “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” “What didst thou take her?” “Took her nothing, she gave me something.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “Gave me a knife.” “Where is the knife, Hans?” “Stuck in my sleeve.” “That’s ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have put the knife in thy pocket.” “Never mind, will do better next time.” “Whither away, Hans?” “To Grethel, mother.” “Behave well, Hans.” “Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans. What good thing dost thou bring?” “I bring nothing, I want something given me.” Grethel presents Hans with a young goat. “Good-bye, Grethel.” “Good-bye, Hans.” Hans takes the goat, ties its legs, and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home it is suffocated. “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” “What didst thou take her?” “Took nothing, she gave me something.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “She gave me a goat.” “Where is the goat, Hans?” “Put it in my pocket.” “That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have put a rope round the goat’s neck.” “Never mind, will do better next time.”“Whither away, Hans,?” “To Grethel, mother.” “Behave well, Hans.” “Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.” Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans. What good thing dost thou bring?” “I bring nothing, I want something given me.” Grethel presents Hans with a piece of bacon. “Good-bye, Grethel.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope, and drags it away behind him. The dogs come and devour the bacon. When he gets home, he has the rope in his hand, and there is no longer anything hanging to it. “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” What didst thou take her?” “I took her nothing, she gave me something.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “Gave me a bit of bacon.” “Where is the bacon, Hans.” “I tied it to a rope, brought it home, dogs took it.” “That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have carried the bacon on thine head.” “Never mind, will do better next time.” “Whither away, Hans?” “To Grethel, mother.” “Behave well, Hans.” “I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans.” “What good thing dost thou bring?” “I bring nothing, but would have something given.” Grethel presents Hans with a calf. “Good-bye, Grethel.” “Good- bye, Hans.”Hans takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks his face. “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” “What didst thou take her?” “I took nothing, but had something given me.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “A calf.” “Where hast thou the calf, Hans?” “I set it on my head and it kicked my face.” “That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have led the calf, and put it in the stall.” “Never mind, will do better next time.”“Whither away, Hans?” “To Grethel, mother.” “Behave well, Hans.” “I’ll behave well. Good-bye, mother.” “Good-bye, Hans.”Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.” “Good day, Hans. What good thing dost thou bring?” “I bring nothing, but would have something given.” Grethel says to Hans, “I will go with thee.”Hans takes Grethel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the rack, and binds her fast. Then Hans goes to his mother, “Good evening, mother.” “Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?” “With Grethel.” “What didst thou take her?” “I took her nothing.” “What did Grethel give thee?” “She gave me nothing, she came with me.” “Where hast thou left Grethel?” “I led her by the rope, tied her to the rack, and scattered some grass for her.” “That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have cast friendly eyes on her.” “Never mind, will do better.”Hans went into the stable, cut out all the calves’ and sheep’s eyes, and threw them in Grethel’s face. Then Grethel became angry, tore herself loose and ran away, and became the bride of Hans.
“In the world it’s always going up and down–and now I can’t go up anyhigher!” So said Ole the tower-keeper. “Most people have to try boththe ups and the downs; and, rightly considered, we all get to bewatchmen at last, and look down upon life from a height.”Such was the speech of Ole, my friend, the old tower-keeper, a strangetalkative old fellow, who seemed to speak out everything that cameinto his head, and who for all that had many a serious thought deep inhis heart. Yes, he was the child of respectable people, and there wereeven some who said that he was the son of a privy councillor, or thathe might have been; he had studied too, and had been assistant teacherand deputy clerk; but of what service was all that to him? In thosedays he lived in the clerk’s house, and was to have everything in thehouse, to be at free quarters, as the saying is; but he was still, soto speak, a fine young gentleman. He wanted to have his boots cleanedwith patent blacking, and the clerk could only afford ordinary grease;and upon that point they split–one spoke of stinginess, the other ofvanity, and the blacking became the black cause of enmity betweenthem, and at last they parted.This is what he demanded of the world in general–namely, patentblacking–and he got nothing but grease. Accordingly he at last drewback from all men, and became a hermit; but the church tower is theonly place in a great city where hermitage, office, and bread can befound together. So he betook himself up thither, and smoked his pipeas he made his solitary rounds. He looked upward and downward, and hadhis own thoughts, and told in his way of what he read in books and inhimself. I often lent him books, good books; and you may know a man bythe company he keeps. He loved neither the English governess-novels,nor the French ones, which he called a mixture of empty wind andraisin-stalks: he wanted biographies and descriptions of the wondersof the world. I visited him at least once a year, generally directlyafter New Year’s-day, and then he always spoke of this and that whichthe change of the year had put into his head.I will tell the story of three of these visits, and will reproduce hisown words whenever I can remember them.FIRST VISIT.Among the books which I had lately lent Ole, was one which had greatlyrejoiced and occupied him. It was a geological book, containing anaccount of the boulders.“Yes, they’re rare old fellows, those boulders!” he said; “and tothink that we should pass them without noticing them! And over thestreet pavement, the paving-stones, those fragments of the oldestremains of antiquity, one walks without ever thinking about them. Ihave done the very thing myself. But now I look respectfully at everypaving-stone. Many thanks for the book! It has filled me with thought,and has made me long to read more on the subject. The romance of theearth is, after all, the most wonderful of all romances. It’s a pityone can’t read the first volumes of it, because they ‘re written in alanguage that we don’t understand. One must read in the differentstrata, in the pebble-stones, for each separate period. Yes, it is aromance, a very wonderful romance, and we all have our place in it. Wegrope and ferret about, and yet remain where we are, but the ballkeeps turning, without emptying the ocean over us; the clod on whichwe move about, holds, and does not let us through. And then it’s astory that has been acting for thousands upon thousands of years, andis still going on. My best thanks for the book about the boulders.Those are fellows indeed! they could tell us something worth hearing,if they only knew how to talk. It’s really a pleasure, now and then tobecome a mere nothing, especially when a man is as highly placed as Iam. And then to think that we all, even with patent lacquer, arenothing more than insects of a moment on that ant-hill the earth,though we may be insects with stars and garters, places and offices!One feels quite a novice beside these venerable million-year-oldboulders. On New Year’s-eve I was reading the book, and had lostmyself in it so completely, that I forgot my usual New Year’sdiversion, namely, the wild hunt to Amack. Ah, you don’t know whatthat is!“The journey of the witches on broomsticks is well enough known–thatjourney is taken on St. John’s-eve, to the Brocken; but we have a wildjourney also, which is national and modern, and that is the journey toAmack on the night of the New Year. All indifferent poets andpoetesses, musicians, newspaper writers and artistic notabilities, Imean those who are no good, ride in the New Year’s-night through theair to Amack. They sit backwards on their painting brushes or quillpens, for steel pens won’t bear them, they’re too stiff. As I toldyou, I see that every New Year’s night, and could mention themajority of the riders by name, but I should not like to draw theirenmity upon myself, for they don’t like people to talk about theirride to Amack on quill pens. I’ve a kind of niece, who is a fishwife,and who, as she tells me, supplies three respectable newspapers withthe terms of abuse and vituperation they use, and she has herself beenat Amack as an invited guest; but she was carried out thither, for shedoes not own a quill pen, nor can she ride. She has told me all aboutit. Half of what she said is not true, but the other half gives usinformation enough. When she was out there, the festivities began witha song: each of the guests had written his own song, and each one sunghis own song, for he thought that the best, and it was all one, allthe same melody. Then those came marching up, in little bands, who areonly busy with their mouths. There were ringing bells that sangalternately; and then came the little drummers that beat their tattooin the family circle; and acquaintance was made with those who writewithout putting their names, which here means as much as using greaseinstead of patent blacking; and then there was the beadle with hisboy, and the boy was the worst off, for in general he gets no noticetaken of him; then too there was the good street-sweeper with hiscart, who turns over the dust-bin, and calls it “good, very good,remarkably good.” And in the midst of the pleasure that was affordedby the mere meeting of these folks, there shot up out of the greatdirt-heap at Amack a stem, a tree, an immense flower, a greatmushroom, a perfect roof, which formed a sort of warehouse for theworthy company, for in it hung everything they had given to the worldduring the Old Year. Out of the tree poured sparks like flames offire; these were the ideas and thoughts, borrowed from others, whichthey had used, and which now got free and rushed away like so manyfireworks. They played at ‘the stick burns,’ and the young poetsplayed at ‘heart-burns,’ and the witlings played off their jests, andthe jests rolled away with a thundering sound, as if empty pots werebeing shattered against doors. ‘It was very amusing!’ my niece said;in fact, she said many things that were very malicious but veryamusing, but I won’t mention them, for a man must be good-natured andnot a carping critic. But you will easily perceive that when a manonce knows the rights of the journey to Amack, as I know them, it’squite natural that on the New Year’s-night one should look out to seethe wild chase go by. If in the New Year I miss certain persons whoused to be there, I am sure to notice others who are new arrivals: butthis year I omitted taking my look at the guests. I bowled away on theboulders, rolled back through millions of years, and saw the stonesbreak loose high up in the North, saw them drifting about on icebergs,long before Noah’s ark was constructed, saw them sink down to thebottom of the sea, and reappear with a sand-bank, with that one thatpeered forth from the flood and said, ‘This shall be Zealand!’ I sawthem become the dwelling-place of birds that are unknown to us, andthen become the seat of wild chiefs of whom we know nothing, untilwith their axes they cut their Runic signs into a few of these stones,which then came into the calendar of time. But as for me, I had gonequite beyond all lapse of time, and had become a cipher and a nothing.Then three or four beautiful falling stars came down, which clearedthe air, and gave my thoughts another direction. You know what afalling star is, do you not? The learned men are not at all clearabout it. I have my own ideas about shooting stars, as the commonpeople in many parts call them, and my idea is this: How often aresilent thanksgivings offered up for one who has done a good and nobleaction! the thanks are often speechless, but they are not lost for allthat. I think these thanks are caught up, and the sunbeams bring thesilent, hidden thankfulness over the head of the benefactor; and if itbe a whole people that has been expressing its gratitude through along lapse of time, the thankfulness appears as a nosegay of flowers,and at length falls in the form of a shooting star upon the good man’sgrave. I am always very much pleased when I see a shooting star,especially in the New Year’s-night, and then find out for whom thegift of gratitude was intended. Lately a gleaming star fell in thesouth-west, as a tribute of thanksgiving to many, many! ‘For whom wasthat star intended?’ thought I. It fell, no doubt, on the hill by theBay of Flensberg, where the Danebrog waves over the graves ofSchleppegrell, Läslöes, and their comrades. One star also fell in themidst of the land, fell upon Sorö, a flower on the grave of Holberg,the thanks of the year from a great many–thanks for his charmingplays!“It is a great and pleasant thought to know that a shooting star fallsupon our graves; on mine certainly none will fall–no sunbeam bringsthanks to me, for here there is nothing worthy of thanks. I shall notget the patent lacquer,” said Ole; “for my fate on earth is onlygrease, after all.”SECOND VISIT.It was New Year’s-day, and I went up on the tower. Ole spoke of thetoasts that were drunk on the transition from the old year into thenew, from one grave into the other, as he said. And he told me a storyabout the glasses, and this story had a very deep meaning. It wasthis:“When on the New Year’s-night the clock strikes twelve, the people atthe table rise up, with full glasses in their hands, and drain theseglasses, and drink success to the New Year. They begin the year withthe glass in their hands; that is a good beginning for topers. Theybegin the New Year by going to bed, and that’s a good beginning fordrones. Sleep is sure to play a great part in the New Year, and theglass likewise. Do you know what dwells in the glass?” asked Ole. “Iwill tell you–there dwell in the glass, first, health, and thenpleasure, then the most complete sensual delight: and misfortune andthe bitterest woe dwell in the glass also. Now suppose we count theglasses–of course I count the different degrees in the glasses fordifferent people.“You see, the _first glass_, that’s the glass of health, and in thatthe herb of health is found growing; put it up on the beam in theceiling, and at the end of the year you may be sitting in the arbourof health.“If you take the _second glass_–from this a little bird soarsupwards, twittering in guileless cheerfulness, so that a man maylisten to his song and perhaps join in ‘Fair is life! no downcastlooks! Take courage and march onward!’“Out of the _third glass_ rises a little winged urchin, who cannotcertainly be called an angel-child, for there is goblin blood in hisveins, and he has the spirit of a goblin; not wishing to hurt or harmyou, indeed, but very ready to play off tricks upon you. He’ll sit atyour ear and whisper merry thoughts to you; he’ll creep into yourheart and warm you, so that you grow very merry and become a wit, sofar as the wits of the others can judge.“In the _fourth glass_ is neither herb, bird, nor urchin: in thatglass is the pause drawn by reason, and one may never go beyond thatsign.“Take the _fifth glass_, and you will weep at yourself, you will feelsuch a deep emotion; or it will affect you in a different way. Out ofthe glass there will spring with a bang Prince Carnival, nine timesand extravagantly merry: he’ll draw you away with him, you’ll forgetyour dignity, if you have any, and you’ll forget more than you shouldor ought to forget. All is dance, song, and sound; the masks willcarry you away with them, and the daughters of vanity, clad in silkand satin, will come with loose hair and alluring charms: but tearyourself away if you can!“The _sixth glass_! Yes, in that glass sits a demon, in the form of alittle, well-dressed, attractive and very fascinating man, whothoroughly understands you, agrees with you in everything, and becomesquite a second self to you. He has a lantern with him, to give youlight as he accompanies you home. There is an old legend about a saintwho was allowed to choose one of the seven deadly sins, and whoaccordingly chose drunkenness, which appeared to him the least, butwhich led him to commit all the other six. The man’s blood is mingledwith that of the demon–it is the sixth glass, and with that the germof all evil shoots up within us; and each one grows up with a strengthlike that of the grains of mustard seed, and shoots up into a tree,and spreads over the whole world; and most people have no choice butto go into the oven, to be re-cast in a new form.“That’s the history of the glasses,” said the tower-keeper Ole, “andit can be told with lacquer or only with grease; but I give it youwith both!”THIRD VISIT.On this occasion I chose the general “moving-day” for my visit to Ole,for on that day it is anything but agreeable down in the streets inthe town; for they are full of sweepings, shreds, and remnants of allsorts, to say nothing of the cast-off bed straw in which one has towade about. But this time I happened to see two children playing inthis wilderness of sweepings. They were playing at “going to bed,” forthe occasion seemed especially favourable for this sport: they creptunder the straw, and drew an old bit of ragged curtain over themselvesby way of coverlet. “It was splendid!” they said; but it was a littletoo strong for me, and besides, I was obliged to mount up on my visit.“It’s moving-day to-day,” he said; “streets and houses are like adust-bin, a large dust-bin; but I’m content with a cartload. I may getsomething good out of that, and I really did get something good out ofit, once. Shortly after Christmas I was going up the street; it wasrough weather, wet and dirty; the right kind of weather to catch coldin. The dustman was there with his cart, which was full, and lookedlike a sample of streets on moving-day. At the back of the cart stooda fir tree, quite green still, and with tinsel on its twigs: it hadbeen used on Christmas-eve, and now it was thrown out into the street,and the dustman had stood it up at the back of his cart. It was drollto look at, or you may say it was mournful–all depends on what youthink of when you see it; and I thought about it, and thought this andthat of many things that were in the cart: or I might have done so,and that comes to the same thing. There was an old lady’s glove too: Iwonder what that was thinking of? Shall I tell you? The glove waslying there, pointing with its little finger at the tree. ‘I’m sorryfor the tree,’ it thought; ‘and I was also at the feast, where thechandeliers glittered. My life was, so to speak, a ball-night: apressure of the hand, and I burst! My memory keeps dwelling upon that,and I have really nothing else to live for!’ This is what the glovethought, or what it might have thought. ‘That’s a stupid affair withyonder fir tree,’ said the potsherds. You see, potsherds thinkeverything is stupid. ‘When one is in the dust-cart,’ they said, ‘oneought not to give one’s self airs and wear tinsel. I know that I havebeen useful in the world, far more useful than such a green stick.’That was a view that might be taken, and I don’t think it quite apeculiar one; but for all that the fir tree looked very well: it waslike a little poetry in the dust-heap; and truly there is dust enoughin the streets on moving-day. The way is difficult and troublesomethen, and I feel obliged to run away out of the confusion; or if I amon the tower, I stay there and look down, and it is amusing enough.“There are the good people below, playing at ‘changing houses.’ Theytoil and tug away with their goods and chattels, and the householdgoblin sits in an old tub and moves with them; all the little griefsof the lodging and the family, and the real cares and sorrows, movewith them out of the old dwelling into the new; and what gain is therefor them or for us in the whole affair? Yes, there was written longago the good old maxim: ‘Think on the great moving-day of death!’That is a serious thought; I hope it is not disagreeable to you thatI should have touched upon it? Death is the most certain messengerafter all, in spite of his various occupations. Yes, Death is theomnibus conductor, and he is the passport writer, and he countersignsour service-book, and he is director of the savings bank of life. Doyou understand me? All the deeds of our life, the great and the littlealike, we put into this savings bank; and when Death calls with hisomnibus, and we have to step in, and drive with him into the land ofeternity, then on the frontier he gives us our service-book as a pass.As a provision for the journey he takes this or that good deed we havedone, and lets it accompany us; and this may be very pleasant or veryterrific. Nobody has ever escaped this omnibus journey: there iscertainly a talk about one who was not allowed to go–they call himthe Wandering Jew: he has to ride behind the omnibus. If he had beenallowed to get in, he would have escaped the clutches of the poets.“Just cast your mind’s eye into that great omnibus. The society ismixed, for king and beggar, genius and idiot, sit side by side: theymust go without their property and money; they have only theservice-book and the gift out of the saving’s bank with them. Butwhich of our deeds is selected and given to us? Perhaps quite a littleone, one that we have forgotten, but which has been recorded–small asa pea, but the pea can send out a blooming shoot. The poor bumpkin,who sat on a low stool in the corner, and was jeered at and flouted,will perhaps have his worn-out stool given him as a provision; and thestool may become a litter in the land of eternity, and rise up then asa throne, gleaming like gold, and blooming as an arbour. He who alwayslounged about, and drank the spiced draught of pleasure, that he mightforget the wild things he had done here, will have his barrel given tohim on the journey, and will have to drink from it as they go on; andthe drink is bright and clear, so that the thoughts remain pure, andall good and noble feelings are awakened, and he sees and feels whatin life he could not or would not see; and then he has within him thepunishment, the _gnawing worm_, which will not die through timeincalculable. If on the glasses there stood written ‘_oblivion_,’ onthe barrel ‘_remembrance_’ is inscribed.“When I read a good book, an historical work, I always think at lastof the poetry of what I am reading, and of the omnibus of death, andwonder which of the hero’s deeds Death took out of the savings bankfor him, and what provisions he got on the journey into eternity.There was once a French king–I have forgotten his name, for the namesof good people are sometimes forgotten, even by me, but it will comeback some day; there was a king who, during a famine, became thebenefactor of his people; and the people raised to his memory amonument of snow, with the inscription, ‘Quicker than this melts didstthou bring help!’ I fancy that Death, looking back upon the monument,gave him a single snow-flake as provision, a snow-flake that nevermelts, and this flake floated over his royal head, like a whitebutterfly, into the land of eternity. Thus too, there was a LouisXI.–I have remembered his name, for one remembers what is bad–atrait of him often comes into my thoughts, and I wish one could saythe story is not true. He had his lord high constable executed, and hecould execute him, right or wrong; but he had the innocent children ofthe constable, one seven and the other eight years old, placed underthe scaffold so that the warm blood of their father spurted over them,and then he had them sent to the Bastille, and shut up in iron cages,where not even a coverlet was given them to protect them from thecold. And King Louis sent the executioner to them every week, and hada tooth pulled out of the head of each, that they might not be toocomfortable; and the elder of the boys said, ‘My mother would die ofgrief if she knew that my younger brother had to suffer so cruelly;therefore pull out two of my teeth, and spare him.’ The tears cameinto the hangman’s eyes, but the king’s will was stronger than thetears; and every week two little teeth were brought to him on a silverplate; he had demanded them, and he had them. I fancy that Death took,these two teeth out of the savings bank of life, and gave them toLouis XI., to carry with him on the great journey into the land ofimmortality: they fly before him like two flames of fire; they shineand burn, and they bite him, the innocent children’s teeth.“Yes, that’s a serious journey, the omnibus ride on the greatmoving-day! And when is it to be undertaken? That’s just the seriouspart of it. Any day, any how, any minute, the omnibus may draw up.Which of our deeds will Death take out of the savings bank, and giveto us as provision? Let us think of the moving-day that is not markedin the calendar.”
There was once a poor orphan boy who had neither father nor mother, and as he had nothing whatever to live upon, he was obliged to go out in search of service. He wandered about for a long time, but could not find a place anywhere; one day he came to a solitary hut standing close to a forest. Before the door sat an old man, who, instead of eyes, had dark holes in his head; his goats were bleating in the stable, and the old man said,—“I should be very glad to take you into the meadow, my poor goats, only I cannot, as I am blind, and I have no one here whom I could send with you.”“Master, send me!” cried the boy. “I should be very glad to feed your goats and wait upon you too.”“Who are you, and what is your name?” asked the old man.The boy told him his history, and added that his name was Yanechek.“Do not be afraid of it at all, master,” answered Yanechek; “jezinky shall not tear out my eyes.”Then he let the goats out of the stable and drove them into the meadow. The first and second day he watched them near the forest; but on the third day he said to himself, “Why should I be afraid of the jezinky? I shall drive the goats there where the grass is better.” Then he cut off three green pieces of brier, put them inside his hat, and drove the goats directly to the top of the hill in the forest. There the goats scattered about and began to graze, and Yanechek sat down in the shade on a stone. He had not sat there long, when suddenly, he could not tell whence, there appeared before him a beautiful girl, dressed all in white, with hair as black as a raven, nicely combed and falling down her shoulders, and black eyes.“Hail, young shepherd!” she said. “See what beautiful apples grow in our garden; here is one for you, so that you may know how nicely they taste.” And she handed him a beautiful red apple. But Yanechek knew that if he were to take that apple and eat it, he would fall asleep, and then the girl would tear out his eyes; he therefore said,—“Thank you, beautiful maiden; my master has in his garden an apple tree which bears much finer apples. I have eaten enough of them.”“Well, if you do not like it, I shall not press you,” answered the girl, and then went away.In a short time there came another girl, handsomer than the first; she held in her hand a beautiful red rose and said,—“Hail, young shepherd! See what a beautiful rose I have plucked from yonder ridge between those fields; it smells deliciously,—smell it!”“Thank you, beautiful maiden,” answered Yanechek. “My master has in his garden much finer roses; I have smelt them enough.”“Very well,” answered the girl angrily; “if you do not want to smell it, you need not do it.”She then turned round and went away. After a little while there came a third girl, the youngest and handsomest of them all.“Hail, young shepherd!” she said.“Thank you, pretty maiden,” answered Yanechek.“You are a fine looking lad,” continued the girl; “but you would look handsomer if you had your hair nicely combed; come, I will comb it for you.”Yanechek did not answer her a word; but when the girl had approached him in order to comb his hair, he took off his hat, pulled out of it one of the briers, and with it struck the girl on the hand. The girl screamed,—“Oh, help! help!” and then burst out crying as she could not move away from the spot where she was standing. Yanechek did not pay any attention to her cries, but tied up her arms with the piece of brier. Then the two other jezinky appeared, and seeing their sister thus caught, they begged Yanechek that he would untie her arms and let her go.“Do it yourselves,” answered Yanechek.“We cannot,” said the girls; “we have delicate hands and we should prick ourselves.”When, however, they saw that Yanechek would not do it, they approached their sister in order to untie the brier. Suddenly Yanechek rushed upon the girls and struck each of them with the brier, and then tied up their arms.“See, I have caught you now, you wicked jezinky,” cried Yanechek,—”you that have torn out my master’s eyes.”Then he rushed home to his master and said,—“Come, master, I have found somebody that will return you your eyes.”When Yanechek and his old master had come to the hill, Yanechek said to the eldest girl,—“Now, tell me, where are my master’s eyes? If you will not, I shall throw you into the water.”The girl protested that she did not know where the eyes were, and Yanechek was about to throw her into the rivulet that was flowing near the hill.“Do not drown me, Yanechek; do not drown me,” cried the girl, “and I will give you your master’s eyes.”Then she led him to a cave where there was a large heap of eyes, great and small, black, red, blue, and green, and selected two out of that heap. But when Yanechek had put them into his master’s head, the poor old man began to complain bitterly: “Oh, woe, woe is me! These are not my eyes; I can only see owls.” Yanechek became very angry, and having caught hold of the girl he threw her into the water. Then he said to the second girl,—“Will you tell me where my master’s eyes are?”The girl excused herself, saying that she did not know anything about them, but when Yanechek had threatened that he would also throw her into the water, the girl led him to the same cave and selected two other eyes. The old man, however, again complained: “Oh, woe is me! These are not my eyes; I can only see wolves.” The same thing was done to the second jezinky as to the first; the water only bubbled over her.“Will you tell me where my master’s eyes are?” asked Yanechek of the third and youngest of the jezinky.This one also led him to the cave, and selected two eyes out of the heap. But when they were put into the old man’s head he again complained that they were not his eyes, saying, “I can only see pikes.”Yanechek seeing that the girl had cheated him, wanted to drown her also, but the jezinky burst out crying, and said,—“Do not drown me, Yanechek; do not drown me, and I will give you your master’s real eyes.” And she selected them from the very bottom of the heap of eyes.When Yanechek had put them into his master’s head, the old man cried joyfully,—“These are my eyes! Thank heaven! now I can see well.”Henceforth Yanechek and his old master lived together happily. Yanechek attended to the goats, and the old man made cheese from their milk, of which they both partook. From that day the youngest jezinky has never shown herself on the hill.
In the olden days there was a very fine young hen who lived with her parents in the bush.One day a hawk was hovering round, about eleven o’clock in the morning, as was his custom, making large circles in the air and scarcely moving his wings. His keen eyes were wide open, taking in everything (for nothing moving ever escapes the eyes of a hawk, no matter how small it may be or how high up in the air the hawk may be circling). This hawk saw the pretty hen picking up some corn near her father’s house. He therefore closed his wings slightly, and in a second of time was close to the ground; then spreading his wings out to check his flight, he alighted close to the hen and perched himself on the fence, as a hawk does not like to walk on the ground if he can help it.He then greeted the young hen with his most enticing whistle, and offered to marry her. She agreed, so the hawk spoke to the parents, and paid the agreed amount of dowry, which consisted mostly of corn, and the next day took the young hen off to his home.Shortly after this a young cock who lived near the hen’s former home found out where she was living, and having been in love with her for some months—in fact, ever since his spurs had grown—determined to try and make her return to her own country. He therefore went at dawn, and, having flapped his wings once or twice, crowed in his best voice to the young hen. When she heard the sweet voice of the cock she could not resist his invitation, so she went out to him, and they walked off together to her parent’s house, the young cock strutting in front crowing at intervals.The hawk, who was hovering high up in the sky, quite out of sight of any ordinary eye, saw what had happened, and was very angry. He made up his mind at once that he would obtain justice from the king, and flew off to Calabar, where he told the whole story, and asked for immediate redress. So the king sent for the parents of the hen, and told them they must repay to the hawk the amount of dowry they had received from him on the marriage of their daughter, according to the native custom; but the hen’s parents said that they were so poor that they could not possibly afford to pay. So the king told the hawk that he could kill and eat any of the cock’s children whenever and wherever he found them as payment of his dowry, and, if the cock made any complaint, the king would not listen to him.From that time until now, whenever a hawk sees a chicken he swoops down and carries it off in part-payment of his dowry.
The elephant and the hippopotamus always used to feed together, and were good friends.One day when they were both dining together, the tortoise appeared and said that although they were both big and strong, neither of them could pull him out of the water with a strong piece of tie-tie, and he offered the elephant ten thousand rods if he could draw him out of the river the next day. The elephant, seeing that the tortoise was very small, said, “If I cannot draw you out of the water, I will give you twenty thousand rods.” So on the following morning the tortoise got some very strong tie-tie and made it fast to his leg, and went down to the river. When he got there, as he knew the place well, he made the tie-tie fast round a big rock, and left the other end on the shore for the elephant to pull by, then went down to the bottom of the river and hid himself. The elephant then came down and started pulling, and after a time he smashed the rope.Directly this happened, the tortoise undid the rope from the rock and came to the land, showing all people that the rope was still fast to his leg, but that the elephant had failed to pull him out. The elephant was thus forced to admit that the tortoise was the winner, and paid to him the twenty thousand rods, as agreed. The tortoise then took the rods home to his wife, and they lived together very happily.After three months had passed, the tortoise, seeing that the money was greatly reduced, thought he would make some more by the same trick, so he went to the hippopotamus and made the same bet with him. The hippopotamus said, “I will make the bet, but I shall take the water and you shall take the land; I will then pull you into the water.”To this the tortoise agreed, so they went down to the river as before, and having got some strong tie-tie, the tortoise made it fast to the hippopotamus’ hind leg, and told him to go into the water. Directly the hippo had turned his back and disappeared, the tortoise took the rope twice round a strong palm-tree which was growing near, and then hid himself at the foot of the tree.When the hippo was tired of pulling, he came up puffing and blowing water into the air from his nostrils. Directly the tortoise saw him coming up, he unwound the rope, and walked down towards the hippopotamus, showing him the tie-tie round his leg. The hippo had to acknowledge that the tortoise was too strong for him, and reluctantly handed over the twenty thousand rods.The elephant and the hippo then agreed that they would take the tortoise as their friend, as he was so very strong; but he was not really so strong as they thought, and had won because he was so cunning.He then told them that he would like to live with both of them, but that, as he could not be in two places at the same time, he said that he would leave his son to live with the elephant on the land, and that he himself would live with the hippopotamus in the water.This explains why there are both tortoises on the land and tortoises who live in the water. The water tortoise is always much the bigger of the two, as there is plenty of fish for him to eat in the river, whereas the land tortoise is often very short of food.
Deereeree was a widow and lived in a camp alone with her four little girls. One day Bibbee came and made a camp not far from hers. Deereeree was frightened of him, too frightened to go to sleep. All night she used to watch his camp, and if she heard a sound she would cry aloud: “Deerceree, wyah, wyah, Deereeree,” Sometimes she would be calling out nearly all night.In the morning, Bibbee would come over to her camp and ask her what was the matter that she had called out so in the night. She told him that she thought she heard some one walking about and was afraid, for she was alone with her four little girls.He told her she ought not to be afraid with all her children round her. But night after night she sat up crying: “Wyah, wyah, Deereeree, Deereeree.”At last Bibbee said! “If you are so frightened, marry me and live in my camp. I will take care of you.” But Deereeree said she did not want to marry. So night after night was to be heard her plaintive cry of “Wyah, wyah, Deereeree, Deereeree.” And again and again Bibbee pressed her to share his camp and marry him. But she always refused. The more she refused the more he wished to marry her. And he used to wonder how he could induce her to change her mind.At last he thought of a plan of surprising her into giving her consent. He set to work and made a beautiful and many coloured arch, which, when it was made, he called Euloowirree, and he placed it right across the sky, reaching from one side of the earth to the other. When the rainbow was firmly placed in the sky, and showing out in all its brilliancy, of many colours, as a roadway from the earth to the stars, Bibbee went into his camp to wait. When Deereeree looked up at the sky and saw the wonderful rainbow, she thought something dreadful must be going to happen. She was terribly frightened, and called aloud: “Wyah, wyah.” In her fear she gathered her children together, and fled with them to Bibbee’s camp for protection.Bibbee proudly told her that he had made the rainbow, just to show how strong he was and how safe she would be if she married him. But if she would not, she would see what terrible things he would make to come on the earth, not just a harmless and beautiful roadway across the heavens, but things that would burst from the earth and destroy it.So by working on her mixed feelings of fear of his prowess, and admiration of his skill, Bibbee gained his desire, and Deereeree married him. And when long afterwards they died, Deereeree was changed into the little willy wagtail who may be heard through the stillness of the summer nights, crying her plaintive wail of “Deereeree, wyah, wyah, Deereeree.”And Bibbee was changed into the woodpecker, or climbing tree bird, who is always running up trees as if he wanted to be building other ways to the than the famous roadway of his Euloowirree, the building of which had won him his wife.
The people who lived long ago, in the far-off lands of the north, watched the wonderful things that happened out of doors every day, just as we do; but they did not know about the one loving God, who is the Father of all, who made them and the world, and rules it by his wise laws; so they thought there must be a great many unseen powers, living in the clouds, in the wind, in the storms, and the sunshine, and doing all those wonders that no man could do.And so those northern people, who were our own forefathers, came to believe in many gods—one for the sun, another for the thunder, another for the flowers, and so on.{Note: Listen to this Norse Mythology tale plus other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}In the long, dark winters, when the bright sun had gone away from them, these northmen had time to think many thoughts about the powers of frost, and wind, and storms, which they called giants, and they used to tell stories and sing songs about the short, bright summer, the thawing out of the streams and lakes, the coming of the birds and flowers.With great joy the people saw the bright sun-god, Baldur, come back to them in the spring, after the long darkness, and knew that they owed their lives to his friendly warmth and light.As we read the stories, or myths, told by those people long ago, we can see that they were meant to tell about the world around us. At first the stories were told and sung from father to son—that is, from one generation to another; but later, when people learned how to write, these myths were written down, and kept with great love and care.This is the story they told of the Beginning. At first, before living creatures were in the world, it was all rough and without order. Far to the north it was very cold, for ice and snow were everywhere. Toward the south there was fire, and from the meeting of the fire and the cold a thick vapor was formed, from which sprang a huge giant. On looking about for some food, he saw a cow, who was also searching for something to eat. The ice tasted salt, and when the cow began to lick it, a head appeared, and at last the whole figure of a god stood before her.From these two, the giant and the god, came the two great races of giants and gods, who were always enemies to each other. The giants were constantly trying to break into Asgard, the home of the gods, in the sky; the gods, on the other hand, watched and planned to keep out the giants, and to drive them back to their own stronghold, Utgard. Our world, where men and women lived, was between Utgard and Asgard; it was called Midgard, and around this Midgard world, under the ocean, was coiled a monstrous serpent, who grew so long that his tail grew down his throat. He was called the Midgard serpent.A wonderful tree, named “Yggdrasil,” connected all the worlds. This great ash tree had its roots in Utgard, and the tops of its branches reached up so high as to overshadow Asgard. Its three main roots were watered by three fountains, and near one of them sat the wise giant Mimir, of whom we shall hear later. The Norns, three sisters, also lived at the roots of Yggdrasil, and were careful to see that it was watered every day.A little gray squirrel was always running up and down the tree, jerking his tail and hurrying to tell the news to every one along the way. He was so anxious to be the first one to carry the news, that many times he brought trouble to himself and to others, because he was not always careful to tell a story just as he had heard it, and often every one would have been happier if the squirrel had kept the story quite to himself.The gods and goddesses, all together, were called the Æsir, and the chief and father of them all was Odin. His lofty throne rose high in the midst of Asgard, the sacred city, which the gods had built for their beautiful home.From Asgard, arching over and down to the lower world, was a rainbow bridge, called Bifröst—“the trembling bridge”; upon this the dwellers in Asgard could travel every day, all except the mighty Thor. His thunder chariot was too heavy for “the trembling bridge,” so he had to go around a longer way.After the gods had made men and women, and had taught them to dwell on the earth, in the world of Midgard, Odin looked forth one morning from his heavenly seat, to see what further work was waiting for his helping hand.He noticed, far away below him, a race of small beings, some of them busy, doing mischievous deeds, while others sat idle, doing nothing. Odin sent for all these little people to come to him, and when they had reached Asgard, and were admitted to his palace of Gladsheim, they entered the great judgment hall, where they found all the Æsir sitting, with Father Odin at their head.The little people waited in a crowd near the door, wondering what was going to happen to them, while Hermod, the messenger of the gods, ran to his master to say that they had come.Then the Allfather spoke to the little dwarfs about their evil deeds among men, and he told the naughtiest ones that they must go and live down underground, and look after the great furnace fire in the middle of the earth, to keep it always burning. Some must get coal to feed the fire, and others still were to have charge of the gold, and silver, and precious stones, under the rocks. Not one of these busy dwarfs must ever appear during the day; only by night might they venture to leave their tasks.“And now,” said Odin, turning to the idle ones, “what have you been doing?”“We were doing nothing at all, so we could not have harmed any one, and we pray you to spare us!” cried they.“Do you not know that those who sit idle when they should be doing good deserve punishment, too?” said Odin. “I shall put you in charge of all the trees and flowers, and shall send one of the Æsir to teach you, so that you may be doing some good in the world.”Then the little elves went to work among the flowers, and Frey, the bright god of summer and sunshine, was a kind master to them. He taught them how to open the folded buds in the sunshine, to fill the honey cups, and lead the bees along the flower passages to find their food, to hatch the birds’ eggs, and teach the little ones their songs, and then each night to fetch the water for dewdrops, to be hung on every leaf and blade of grass.When their work was finished, and the moon had risen, these busy elves and fairies enjoyed many a happy evening, dancing and frisking on the green by moonlight. And so our world of Midgard was filled with busy work and play.Even now, in our time, the people in the lands of the north, and in Germany, have many old sayings and stories that have come down to them from the days long ago. There is a beautiful white flower in the north, which is called Baldur’s Brow, because it is so pure and bright, like the face of the dear sun-god, Baldur; and in some places, when the farmers gather in their harvest of grain, they leave a little bunch of it standing in the field, for Father Odin’s horse.We have some English names to remind us of those old tales of our forefathers, for we have Tuesday named for Tyr, or Tiu, the brave god who gave his right hand to save his friends; Wednesday, or Wodensday, named for Odin; Thursday, for Thor, the thunder-god; and Friday, for either the goddess Frigga, or Freyja, or for Frey, the god of summer, who ruled the fairies.
Somewhere near the sea in olden times a boy was living with his father and mother. He had no brothers or sisters. His father was a great hunter and the boy inherited something of his power, for he was always very successful in the killing of game. And his mother said, “Some day he will be a great man, for before his birth a vision came to me in the night and told me that my son would win wide fame. And fairy gifts were laid by the fairies in his cradle.” And his father, listening to her boasting, said, “Time will tell; time will tell; but if he is to be a great man it is his own deeds and not your boasting that must prove it.”As the boy grew up he became strangely beautiful and he had great strength. And his father said, “It is time he set out to seek his fortune. I was in the forest doing so myself when I was no older than he.”And his mother said, “Wait a little and be not so impatient. He is yet young and there is yet much time.” So the boy remained at home a while longer.Now it happened that far away in a distant village there lived a young girl of very great beauty and grace. Her father had been a great Chief, but he was now dead. Her mother too was dead, and she was all alone in the world. But her parents had left her vast lands and a great store of goods and many servants, and because of her treasures and her great beauty she had many suitors. But she was not easily pleased by men and on all who came to seek her hand she imposed severe feats of skill to test their sincerity and their worth. She was carefully guarded by an old woman and many servants who kept troublesome and meddlesome people away.Soon the fame of the girl’s wealth and beauty spread through all the land. It reached the sea coast village where the young man dwelt. His father thought to himself, “Here is a good chance for my son to prove his worth.” So he called his boy to him and said, “It is time you were setting out to seek your fortune in the world and to find a wife, for your springtime is passing and your summer of life will soon be here, and before you know it your autumn will be upon you and your winter will be near. There is no time to lose. Seek out the beautiful girl of the rich treasures in the distant inland village and try to win her as your wife.” And his mother gave him the fairy gifts which had been laid in his cradle at his birth, and he said good-bye to his parents and set out on his long journey. He had no misgivings, for he was very vain of his beauty and he was sure, too, of his strength.As he travelled inland he came one day upon a man clad in scarlet sitting on the side of a rocky hill tying stones to his feet. “Hello,” he said to the man, “why are you tying these heavy rocks to your ankles?”“I am a hunter,” replied the man, “but when I follow the deer I run so fast that I am soon far in front of them instead of behind them, and I am putting heavy weights on my feet so that I will not run so rapidly.”“You are indeed a wonderful man,” said the boy; “but I am alone and I need a companion. Let us go along together.”“Who are you?” said the man. “I am Lad of the Great Heart,” said the boy, “and I can do great deeds and I can win for you great treasure.” So the Scarlet Runner went along with him.Towards evening when they were now far inland, they came to a large lake. Among the trees on the fringe of the lake a large fat man was lying flat on his stomach with his mouth in the water drinking as hard as he could. For some time they watched him, but still he drank and the lake grew smaller and smaller and still his thirst was not quenched. They laughed at such a strange sight, and as they approached him the boy said, “Hello! Why do you lie there drinking so much water?” “Oh,” answered the fat man, “there are times when I cannot get enough water to drink. When I have drunk this lake dry I shall still be thirsty.”“Who are you?” asked the boy. “I am Man of the Great Thirst,” said the fat man. “That is well,” said Great Heart, “we two need a third companion. We can do great deeds and we can win for you great treasure.” So the three went along together.They had not gone far when they came to a wide open plain where they saw a man walking along with his face raised upwards, peering at the sky. He moved along rapidly and seemed to find his way without his eyes, for he gazed steadily at the heavens. “Hello,” said Great Heart as the sky-gazer rushed past him and almost knocked him over, “what are you looking at so intently?”“Oh,” said the man, “I have shot an arrow into the sky and I am waiting for it to fall. It has gone so far that it will be some time before it drops.”“Who are you?” asked the boy. “I am the Far-Darter,” said the sky-gazer.“We three need a fourth companion,” said the boy. “We can do great deeds and win for you much treasure. Come along with us.” So the four went along together.They had gone but a short distance across the plain to the edge of a forest when they came upon a man lying down at full length with his head upon his hand. The edge of his hand was on the ground and it was half closed around his ear, which rested upon it. As he saw the four men approaching him he placed a finger of his other hand upon his lips and signalled to them to keep quiet. “Hello,” said Great Heart in a whisper, “what are you doing there with your ear to the ground?”“I am listening to the plants growing far away in the forest,” he answered. “There is a beautiful flower I wish to find, and I am trying to hear it breathing so that I may go and get it. Aha! I hear it now.” So saying he rose from the ground.The boy said, “Who are you?”“I am Keen Ears,” said the listener.“We four need another companion,” said Great Heart. “We can do great deeds and win for you much treasure. Come along with us.” So the four men and the boy went along together, Keen Ears, and Scarlet Runner, and Far Darter, and Man of the Great Thirst, and Lad of the Great Heart. Then Great Heart unfolded to the others his plan to win the beautiful girl who lived with her treasures in the distant village. And they gladly agreed to help him in his dangerous undertaking.When they reached the village, the people were all very curious when they saw the five strangers. They marvelled at Great Heart’s beauty. But when they heard that he wished to marry the daughter of the former Chief they shook their heads gravely and said, “It will never be. She places hard conditions on all who seek her hand. He who fails in the tests is doomed to death. Many suitors have tried and failed and died.” But Great Heart was not alarmed, and with his four companions he went to the girl’s home. The old woman who guarded her met him at the door and he made known his wishes. She laughed scornfully when she saw his great beauty, and she said, “You look more like a girl than like a warrior. You cannot endure the tests.” But the young man insisted on making the trials.The old woman said, “If you fail in the tests you will die,” and Great Heart said, “It is so agreed.” Then the woman said, “If you wish to win the maiden you must first push away this great rock from before her window. It keeps the sunlight from her in the mornings.” Then Great Heart, calling to his aid the fairy gifts of his cradle, placed his shoulder against the huge stone which rose higher than the house, and he pushed with all his strength. With a mighty crash it rolled down the hill and broke into millions of pieces. The bits of rock flew all over the earth so great was the fall, and the little pebbles and stones that came from it are seen throughout the world to this day. The sunlight streamed in at the window, and the maiden knew that the first test had been successfully passed by a suitor.Then came the second test. The old woman and her servants brought great quantities of food and drink and bade the strangers consume it all at one meal. They were very hungry, for they had eaten nothing all day and they easily ate up the food. But when Great Heart saw the great barrels of water, his spirits sank, and he said, “I fear I am beaten.”But Man of the Great Thirst said, “Not so fast, my friend. The spell of great stomach-burning is again upon me. I am very dry as if there was a fire in my belly. Give me a chance to drink.” He went from barrel to barrel and in a twinkling he had drained them all of every drop. And the people wondered greatly.But there was still another test. “You must have one of your party run a race,” said the old woman to Great Heart. And she brought out a man who had never been beaten in running. “Who is your choice of runners?” she asked; “he must race with this man, and if he wins you may have the maiden for your wife and all the treasure with her, for this is the final test. But if he loses the race you shall die.” Great Heart called Scarlet Runner to the mark and told the old woman that this was the man selected. Then he untied the rocks from the runner’s feet, and when all was ready the race began. The course lay far across the plains for many miles until the runners should pass from sight, and back again to the starting point. The two runners kept together for some distance, talking together in a friendly way as they ran.When they had passed from sight of the village the maiden’s runner said, “Now we are out of sight of the village. Let us rest here a while on this grassy bank, for the day is hot.” The Scarlet Runner agreed to this and they both stretched out on the grass. Now this was an old trick of the maiden’s runner, who always won by craft rather than by speed. They had not lain down long on the grass when Scarlet Runner fell asleep under the hot sun, just as his rival had hoped. When the latter was sure that his rival was sound asleep, he set out for the village, running as fast as he could. The people soon saw their runner approaching far off on the plains, but there was no sign of the stranger, and they thought that the new suitor for the girl’s hand had at last failed like all the others before him.Great Heart was much puzzled when Scarlet Runner did not appear, and as he saw the maiden’s runner coming nearer, he said, “What can have happened? I fear I am beaten.”But Keen Ears threw himself flat on the ground and listened. “Scarlet Runner is asleep,” he called; “I hear him snoring on the plains far away.” And with his keen sense of sound he located the exact spot where the runner was lying.“I will soon wake him,” said Far-Darter, as he fitted an arrow to his bow-string. The people all thought him mad, for they had never seen an arrow shot so great a distance beyond their sight. But Far-Darter was not dismayed. He quickly shot an arrow from his bow to the spot which Keen Ears had indicated. His aim was so true that the arrow hit Scarlet Runner on the nose and aroused him from his sleep. But when he rose to his feet he found that his rival was gone and he knew that he had been deceived. So in a great rage because of the trick and the pain in his nose, he set out for the village running like the wind. His rival had almost reached the end of the race, but by putting all his strength into his effort, Scarlet Runner quickly over-took him and passed him near the winning-post and won the race. And the people wondered greatly at these great deeds of the strangers.Then the old woman said to Great Heart, “You have won the maiden as your wife, for you alone have succeeded in these tests.” So the two were married with great ceremony. Great Heart gave much treasure to his companions, and they promised to help him always in his need. Then with his wife and her servants and her great store of goods he went back to his native village by the sea. His father and mother were glad to see him again and to hear of his success, and his mother said, “I told you he would win great fame because of the fairy gifts that were laid in his cradle at his birth.” And they all lived together and were henceforth very happy.
There was once an old man, very poor, with three sons. They lived chiefly by ferrying people over a river; but he had had nothing but ill-luck all his life. And to crown all, on the night he died, there was a great storm, and in it the crazy old ferry-boat, on which his sons depended for a living, was sunk.As they were lamenting both their father and their poverty, an old man came by, and learning the reason of their sorrow said:“Never mind; all will come right in time. Look! there is your boat as good as new.”And there was a fine new ferry-boat on the water, in place of the old one, and a number of people waiting to be ferried over.The three brothers arranged to take turns with the boat, and divide the fares they took.They were however very different in disposition. The two elder brothers were greedy and avaricious, and would never take anyone over the river, without being handsomely paid for it.But the youngest brother took over poor people, who had no money, for nothing; and moreover frequently relieved their wants out of his own pocket.One day, at sunset, when the eldest brother was at the ferry the same old man, who had visited them on the night their father died, came, and asked for a passage.“I have nothing to pay you with, but this empty purse,” he said.“Go and get something to put in it then first,” replied the ferry-man; “and be off with you now!”{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other mermaid tales, in our collection Mermaid Tales: The Little Mermaid and 14 Other Illustrated Mermaid Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle.}Next day it was the second brother’s turn; and the same old man came, and offered his empty purse as his fare. But he met with a like reply.The third day it was the youngest brother’s turn; and when the old man arrived, and asked to be ferried over for charity, he answered:“Yes, get in, old man.”“And what is the fare?” asked the old man.“That depends upon whether you can pay or not,” was the reply; “but if you cannot, it is all the same to me.”“A good deed is never without its reward,” said the old man: “but in the meantime take this empty purse; though it is very worn, and looks worth nothing. But if you shake it, and say:‘For his sake who gave it, this purse I hold, I wish may always be full of gold;’it will always afford you as much gold as you wish for.”“The purse that was ever full.” Illustration by Cecile Walton, published in Polish Fairy Tales by Maude Ashurt Biggs (1920), John Lane Company.The youngest brother came home, and his brothers, who were sitting over a good supper, laughed at him, because he had taken only a few copper coins that day, and they told him he should have no supper. But when he began to shake his purse and scatter gold coins all about, they jumped up from the table, and began picking them up eagerly.And as it was share and share alike, they all grew rich very quickly. The youngest brother made good use of his riches, for he gave away money freely to the poor. But the greedy elder brothers envied him the possession of the wonderful purse, and contrived to steal it from him. Then they left their old home; and the one bought a ship, laded it with all sorts of merchandize, for a trading voyage. But the ship ran upon a rock, and every one on board was drowned. The second brother was no more fortunate, for as he was travelling through a forest, with an enormous treasure of precious stones, in which he had laid out his wealth, to sell at a profit, he was waylaid by robbers, who murdered him, and shared the spoil among them.The youngest brother, who remained at home, having lost his purse, became as poor as before. But he still did as formerly, took pay from passengers who could afford it, ferried over poor folks for nothing, and helped those who were poorer than himself so far as he could.One day the same old man with the long white beard came by; the ferry-man welcomed him as an old friend, and while rowing him over the river, told him all that had happened since he last saw him.“Your brothers did very wrong, and they have paid for it,” said the old man; “but you were in fault yourself. Still, I will give you one more chance. Take this hook and line; and whatever you catch, mind you hold fast, and not let it escape you; or you will bitterly repent it.”The old man then disappeared, and the ferry-man looked in wonder at his new fishing-tackle—a diamond hook, a silver line, and a golden rod.All at once the hook sprang of itself into the water; the line lengthened out along the river current, and there came a strong pull upon it. The fisherman drew it in, and beheld a most lovely creature, upwards from the waist a woman, but with a fish’s tail.“Good ferry-man, let me go,” she said; “take your hook out of my hair! The sun is setting, and after sunset I can no longer be a water-nymph again.”But without answering, the ferry-man only held her fast, and covered her over with his coat, to prevent her escaping. Then the sun set, and she lost her fish-tail.“Now,” she said: “I am yours; so let us go to the nearest church and get married.”She was already dressed as a bride, with a myrtle garland on her head, in a white dress, with a rainbow-coloured girdle, and rich jewels in her hair and on her neck. And she held in her hand the wonderful purse, that was always full of gold.They found the priest and all ready at the church; were married in a few minutes; and then came home to their wedding-feast, to which all the neighbours were invited. They were royally entertained, and when they were about to leave the bride shook the wonderful purse, and sent a shower of gold pieces flying among the guests; so they all went home very well pleased.The good ferry-man and his marvellous wife lived most happily together; they never wanted for anything, and gave freely to all who came. He continued to ply his ferry-boat; but he now took all passengers over for nothing, and gave them each a piece of gold into the bargain.Now there was a king over that country, who a year ago had just succeeded to his elder brother. He had heard of the ferry-man, who was so marvellously rich, and wishing to ascertain the truth of the story he had heard, came on purpose to see for himself. But when he saw the ferry-man’s beautiful young wife, he resolved to have her for himself, and determined to get rid of her husband somehow.At that time there was an eclipse of the sun; and the king sent for the ferry-man, and told him he must find out the cause of this eclipse, or be put to death.He came home in great distress to his wife; but she replied:“Never mind, my dear. I will tell you what to do, and how to gratify the king’s curiosity.”So she gave him a wonderful ball of thread, which he was to throw before him, and follow the thread as it kept unwinding—towards the East.He went on a long way, over high mountains, deep rivers, and wide regions. At last he came to a ruined city, where a number of corpses were lying about unburied, tainting the air with pestilence.The good man was sorry to see this, and took the pains to summon men from the neighbouring cities, and get the bodies properly buried. He then resumed his journey.He came at last to the ends of the earth. Here he found a magnificent golden palace, with an amber roof, and diamond doors and windows.The ball of thread went straight into the palace, and the ferry-man found himself in a vast apartment, where sat a very dignified old lady, spinning from a golden distaff.“Wretched man! what are you here for?” she exclaimed, when she saw him. “My son will come back presently and burn you up.”He explained to her how he had been forced to come, out of sheer necessity.“Well, I must help you,” replied the old lady, who was no less than the Mother of the Sun, “because you did Sol that good turn some days ago, in burying the inhabitants of that town, when they were killed by a dragon. He journeys every day across the wide arch of heaven, in a diamond car, drawn by twelve grey horses, with golden manes, giving heat and light to the whole world. He will soon be back here, to rest for the night…. But … here he comes; hide yourself, and take care to observe what follows.”So saying she changed her visitor into a lady-bird, and let him fly to the window.Then the neighing of the wonderful horses and the rattling of chariot wheels were heard, and the bright Sun himself presently came in, and stretching himself upon a coral bed, remarked to his mother:“I smell a human being here!”“What nonsense you talk!” replied his mother. “How could any human being come here? You know it is impossible.”The Sun, as if he did not quite believe her, began to peer anxiously about the room.“Don’t be so restless,” said the old lady; “but tell me why you suffered eclipse a month or two ago.”“How could I help it?” answered the Sun; “When the dragon from the deep abyss attacked me, and I had to fight him? Perhaps I should have been fighting with the monster till now, if a wonderful mermaid had not come to help me. When she began to sing, and looked at the dragon with her beautiful eyes, all his rage softened at once; he was absorbed in gazing upon her beauty, and I meanwhile burnt him to ashes, and threw them into the sea.”The Sun then went to sleep, and his mother again touched the ferry-man with her spindle; he then returned to his natural shape, and slipped out of the palace. Following the ball of thread he reached home at last, and next day went to the king, and told him all.But the king was so enchanted at the description of the beautiful sea-maiden, that he ordered the ferry-man to go and bring her to him, on pain of death.He went home very sad to his wife, but she told him she would manage this also. So saying she gave him another ball of thread, to show him which way to go, and she also gave him a carriage-load of costly lady’s apparel and jewels, and ornaments—told him what he was to do, and they took leave of one another.On the way the ferry-man met a youth, riding on a fine grey horse, who asked:“What have you got there, man?”“A woman’s wearing apparel, most costly and beautiful”—he had several dresses, not simply one.“I say, give me some of those as a present for my intended, whom I am going to see. I can be of use to you, for I am the Storm-wind. I will come, whenever you call upon me thus:‘Storm-wind! Storm-wind! come with speed! Help me in my sudden need!'”The ferry-man gave him some of the most beautiful things he had, and the Storm-wind passed.A little further on he met an old man, grey-haired, but strong and vigorous-looking, who also said:“What have you got there?”“Women’s garments costly and beautiful.”“I am going to my daughter’s wedding; she is to marry the Storm-wind; give me something as a wedding present for her, and I will be of use to you. I am the Frost; if you need me call upon me thus:‘Frost, I call thee; come with speed; Help me in my sudden need!'”The ferry-man let him take all he wanted and went on.And now he came to the sea-coast; here the ball of thread stopped, and would go no further.The ferry-man waded up to his waist into the sea, and set up two high poles, with cross-bars between them, upon which he hung dresses of various colours, scarves, and ribbons, gold chains, and diamond earrings and pins, shoes, and looking-glasses, and then hid himself, with his wonderful hook and line ready.As soon as the morning rose from the sea, there appeared far away on the smooth waters a silvery boat, in which stood a beautiful maiden, with a golden oar in one hand, while with the other she gathered together her long golden hair, all the while singing so beautifully to the rising sun, that, if the ferry-man had not quickly stopped his ears, he would have fallen into a delicious reverie, and then asleep.She sailed along a long time in her silver boat, and round her leaped and played golden fishes with rainbow wings and diamond eyes. But all at once she perceived the rich clothes and ornaments, hung up on the poles, and as she came nearer, the ferry-man called out:“Storm-wind! Storm-wind! come with speed! Help me in my sudden need!”“What do you want?” asked the Storm-wind.The ferry-man without answering him, called out:“Frost, I call thee; come with speed, Help me in my sudden need!”“What do you want?” asked the Frost.“I want to capture the sea-maiden.”Then the wind blew and blew, so that the silver boat was capsized, and the frost breathed on the sea till it was frozen over.Then the ferryman rushed up to the sea-maiden, entangling his hook in her golden hair; lifted her on his horse, and rode off as swift as the wind after his wonderful ball of thread.She kept weeping and lamenting all the way; but as soon as they reached the ferry-man’s home, and saw his wife, all her sorrow changed into joy; she laughed with delight, and threw herself into her arms.And then it turned out that the two were sisters.Next morning the ferry-man went to court with both his wife and sister-in-law, and the king was so delighted with the beauty of the latter, that he at once offered to marry her. But she could give him no answer until he had the Self-playing Guitar.So the king ordered the ferry-man to procure him this wonderful guitar, or be put to death.His wife told him what to do, and gave him a handkerchief of hers, embroidered with gold, telling him to use this in case of need.Following the ball of thread he came at last to a great lake, in the midst of which was a green island.He began to wonder how he was to get there, when he saw a boat approaching, in which was an old man, with a long white beard, and he recognized him with delight, as his former benefactor.“How are you, ferry-man?” he asked. “Where are you going?”“I am going wherever the ball of thread leads me, for I must fetch the Self-playing Guitar.”“This guitar,” said the old man, “belongs to Goldmore, the lord of that island. It is a difficult matter to have to do with him; but perhaps you may succeed. You have often ferried me over the water; I will ferry you now.”The old man pushed off, and they reached the island.On arriving the ball of thread went straight into a palace, where Goldmore came out to meet the traveller, and asked him where he was going and what he wanted.He explained:“I am come for the Self-playing Guitar.”“I will only let you have it on condition that you do not go to sleep for three days and nights. And if you do, you will not only lose all chance of the Self-playing Guitar; but you must die.”What could the poor man do, but agree to this?So Goldmore conducted him to a great room, and locked him in. The floor was strewn with sleepy-grass, so he fell asleep directly.Next morning in came Goldmore, and on waking him up said:“So you went to sleep! Very well, you shall die!”And he touched a spring in the floor, and the unhappy ferry-man fell down into an apartment beneath, where the walls were of looking-glass, and there were great heaps of gold and precious stones lying about.For three days and nights he lay there; he was fearfully hungry. And then it dawned upon him that he was to be starved to death!He called out, and entreated in vain; nobody answered, and though he had piles of gold and jewels about him, they could not purchase him a morsel of food.He sought in vain for any means of exit. There was a window, of clearest crystal, but it was barred by a heavy iron grating. But the window looked into a garden whence he could hear nightingales singing, doves cooing, and the murmur of a brook. But inside he saw only heaps of useless gold and jewels, and his own face, worn and haggard, reflected a thousand times.He could now only pray for a speedy death, and took out a little iron cross, which he had kept by him since his boyhood. But in doing so he also drew out the gold-embroidered handkerchief, given him by his wife, and which he had quite forgotten till now.Goldmore had been looking on, as he often did, from an opening in the ceiling to enjoy the sight of his prisoner’s sufferings. All at once he recognized the handkerchief, as belonging to his own sister, the ferry-man’s wife.He at once changed his treatment of his brother-in-law, as he had discovered him to be; took him out of prison, led him to his own apartments, gave him food and drink, and the Self-playing Guitar into the bargain.Coming home, the ferry-man met his wife half-way.“The ball of thread came home alone,” she explained; “so I judged that some misfortune had befallen you, and I was coming to help you.”He told her all his adventures, and they returned home together.The king was all eagerness to see and hear the Self-playing Guitar; so he ordered the ferry-man, his wife, and her sister to come with it to the palace at once.Now the property of this Self-playing Guitar was such that wherever its music was heard, the sick became well, those who were sad merry, ugly folks became handsome, sorceries were dissolved, and those who had been murdered rose from the dead, and slew their murderers.So when the king, having been told the charm to set the guitar playing, said the words, all the court began to be merry, and dance—except the king himself!… For all at once the door opened, the music ceased, and the figure of the late king stood up in his shroud, and said:“I was the rightful possessor of the throne! and you, wicked brother, who caused me to be murdered, shall now reap your reward!”So saying he breathed upon him, and the king fell dead—on which the phantom vanished.But as soon as they recovered from their fright, all the nobility who were present acclaimed the ferry-man as their king.The next day, after the burial of the late king, the beautiful sea-maiden, the beloved of the Sun, went back to the sea, to float about in her silvery canoe, in the company of the rainbow fishes, and to rejoice in the sunbeams.But the good ferry-man and his wife lived happily ever after, as king and queen. And they gave a grand ball to the nobility and to the people…. The Self-playing Guitar furnished the music, the wonderful purse scattered gold all the time, and the king entertained all the guests right royally.
A certain man fell sick and took to his bed. He consulted a number of doctors from time to time, and they all, with one exception, told him that his life was in no immediate danger, but that his illness would probably last a considerable time. The one who took a different view of his case, who was also the last to be consulted, bade him prepare for the worst: “You have not twenty-four hours to live,” said he, “and I fear I can do nothing.”As it turned out, however, he was quite wrong; for at the end of a few days the sick man quitted his bed and took a walk abroad, looking, it is true, as pale as a ghost. In the course of his walk he met the Doctor who had prophesied his death. “Dear me,” said the latter, “how do you do? You are fresh from the other world, no doubt. Pray, how are our departed friends getting on there?”“Most comfortably,” replied the other, “for they have drunk the water of oblivion, and have forgotten all the troubles of life. By the way, just before I left, the authorities were making arrangements to prosecute all the doctors, because they won’t let sick men die in the course of nature, but use their arts to keep them alive. They were going to charge you along with the rest, till I assured them that you were no doctor, but a mere impostor.”
There was once a poor man whose wife died leaving him a daughter. The little girl’s name was Lenka. She was a good little girl, cheerful and obedient and very industrious, and she did all she could to make her father comfortable.After some time the man married again. His second wife also had a little girl just Lenka’s age. Her name was Dorla. Dorla was a lazy, ill-natured child, always quarreling and bickering. Yet her mother thought Dorla was perfect and she was always praising her to her husband.“See what a good child my Dorla is,” she would say to him. “She works and spins and never says a cross word. Very different from your good-for-nothing Lenka who always breaks everything she touches and does nothing in return for all the good food she eats!”She never stopped nagging and scolding her poor stepchild and complaining about her to her husband. Lenka was patient and went on quietly doing what was right, and she was always polite to her stepmother, and kind to her ill-natured stepsister.She and Dorla used to go to spinning bees together. Dorla would play and waste her time and hardly fill one spindle. Lenka always worked industriously and usually filled two or three spools. Yet, when the two girls got home, the mother always took Dorla’s half-filled spindle and said to the father: “See what beautiful yarn my Dorla spins!” She would hide Lenka’s spools and say: “Your Lenka did nothing but play and waste her time!”And before other people she talked the same way, pretending Dorla did everything that she didn’t do and saying that good industrious Lenka was lazy and good-for-nothing.One night when the two girls were walking home together from a spinning bee, they came to a ditch in the road. Dorla jumped quickly across and then reached back her hand and said:“My dear sister, let me hold your spindle. You may fall and hurt yourself.”Poor Lenka, suspecting nothing unkind, handed Dorla her full spindle. Dorla took it and ran home and then boasted to her mother and her stepfather how much she had spun.“Lenka,” she said, “has no yarn at all. She did nothing but play and waste her time.”“You see,” said the woman to her husband. “This is what I’m always telling you but you never believe me. That Lenka of yours is a lazy, good-for-nothing girl who expects me and my poor daughter to do all the work. I’m not going to stand her in the house any longer. Tomorrow morning out she goes to make her own way in the world. Then perhaps she’ll understand what a good home she’s had with me!”The poor man tried to defend Lenka but his wife would hear nothing. Lenka must go and that was all there was to it.Early the next morning while it was still dark the woman started Lenka off. She gave her a sack that she said was full of good meal and smoked meat and bread. But instead of meal she put in ashes, instead of smoked meat straw, and instead of bread stones.“Here is meal and smoked meat and bread for your journey,” she said. “You will be a long time finding any one who will be as good to you as I have been! Now be off with you and never let me see you again! Let your father put you out in service if he can!”The poor man put his ax on his shoulder and started off with Lenka. He had no place to take her and he hardly knew what to do. He led her off into the mountains, where he built her a little two-room hut. He was ashamed to tell her that he was going to leave her alone, so he said to her:“You stay here, my dear child, while I go farther into the forest and cut you some firewood.”But instead of cutting her firewood, he hung his mallet on a beech tree and whenever the wind blew, the mallet made a knocking sound. All afternoon poor little Lenka hearing the knock-knock of the mallet thought to herself: “There is my dear father chopping wood for me!”When evening came and he hadn’t returned, Lenka went out to find him, but all she could find was the mallet going knock-knock on the tree. Then the poor girl realized that her father had deceived her but she forgave him, for she knew that it was her stepmother’s fault.She went back to the little hut to get her supper, but when she opened the sack her stepmother had given her, instead of meal and smoked meat and bread, she found only ashes and straw and stones. Then indeed did Lenka feel deserted and sitting down she cried with loneliness and hunger.While she was crying an old beggar with a long beard came into the hut.“God grant you happiness, my child,” he said.“May He grant you the same, old father,” Lenka said, standing up and bowing politely.“Thank you, my child, thank you. And now will you be so kind as to wash my face and give me a bite of supper?”“Indeed, old father, I’d gladly wash your face and give you food, but there’s no water here and nothing to carry it in. And as for food, my stepmother filled the sack with ashes, straw, and stones.”“That’s nothing, my child. Just go behind the hut and you will find a spring.”Lenka went and there, sure enough, was a clear bubbling spring and on the ground beside it a bucket. She filled the bucket and carried it back to the hut.As she entered the door she could hardly believe her eyes, for on the wall she saw a row of shining plates, big plates and little plates, and cups, and everything else that ought to be in a kitchen. The old beggar had started a fire, so Lenka at once put on water to boil.“Look in the sack,” the beggar said.Lenka untied the sack again and here it was full of fine meal and bread and smoked meat!So now Lenka lost no time in preparing a good supper. Then she washed the old beggar’s face and hands and together they ate. After supper Lenka spread out her ragged clothes on the floor of the inner room and put the beggar in there for the night. She herself stretched out on the kitchen bench. It was a hard bed but Lenka made no complaint and presently she fell asleep.At midnight there was a knocking at the door and a voice called out:“A man am ISix inches high,But a long, long beardHangs from my chin.Open the doorAnd let me in!”Lenka jumped down and opened the door and there before her stood a tiny dwarf with a long beard. He was Long Beard who lived in the mountains and of whom Lenka had often heard stories.He came in dragging after him a heavy bag of golden ducats.“I was that old beggar,” he said, “whose face you washed and with whom you shared your supper. These ducats are to reward you for your kindness. Now go into your bedroom and lie down comfortably.”As he said this he vanished.Lenka went into her bedroom and there, instead of her few rags on the floor, was a fine feather bed and coverlets and a painted chest full of clothes. Lenka lay down on the feather bed and instantly fell asleep.On the third day her father came, supposing by that time Lenka had either died of hunger or been devoured by wild beasts. At least, he thought, he would gather together her bones.But when he reached the hut he rubbed his eyes in surprise. Instead of the rough hut, there was a pretty little cottage and instead of a handful of bones there was a happy girl singing away at her spinning.“My daughter, my daughter!” he cried. “How are you?”“Very well, dear father. You couldn’t have found a better place for me.”She told him how happy she was and how pleasantly she passed the time, spinning and singing and working. Then she took a table-cloth and filled it with golden ducats and gave it to him.So he went away very happy, thanking God for the good fortune that had come to Lenka.As he neared home, the old dog that lay at the door said to the stepmother:“Bow-wow, mistress, here comes the master. It’s chink-chink the money before him and chink-chink the money behind him!”“Not so, old dog!” the stepmother cried. “It’s rattle-rattle bones before him and rattle-rattle bones behind him!”Now when the man came into the cottage, he said: “Wife, give me a basket and let me empty this table-cloth.”“What!” she cried. “Do you expect me to give you a basket for your daughter’s bones?”But he began to chink the golden ducats and then she got a basket fast enough.When she had all the ducats safely put away she said:“Isn’t it just like you to find a place like that for your Lenka! But what have you ever done for my poor Dorla? Tomorrow you will take her out into the world and find a good place for her!”So she got ready for Dorla a fine new bed and stylish clothes and as much good food as she could carry. The next day the man took Dorla out into the mountains and built her a little hut of two rooms.Dorla sat in the hut and thought about the good supper she was going to cook for herself.In the evening the same old beggar came and said to her:“May God grant you happiness, my child. Won’t you please wash my face?”“Wash your face, indeed!” cried Dorla in a rage. “This is what I’ll do to you!” And she took a stick and drove the old beggar away.“Very well!” he muttered. “Very well! Very well!”Then Dorla cooked herself a fine supper. After she had eaten every bite of it herself, she lay down on the bed and went soundly to sleep.At midnight Long Beard knocked at the door and called out:“A man am ISix inches high,But a long, long beardHangs from my chin.Open the doorAnd let me in!”Then Dorla was very frightened and she hid in the corner. Long Beard broke open the door and he caught Dorla and he shook her out of her skin. It served her right, too, for she was a wicked, spiteful girl and she had never been kind to anybody in her life.Long Beard left her bones in a heap on the floor, and he hung her skin on the nail at the back of the door. Then he put her grinning skull in the window.On the third day Dorla’s mother gave her husband a brand new table-cloth and said:“Go now and see how my Dorla is getting on. Here is a table-cloth for the ducats.”So the man took the table-cloth and went to the mountains. As he came near the hut, he saw something in the window that looked like grinning teeth. He said to himself:“Dorla must be very happy to be smiling at me from this distance.”But when he reached the hut all he found of Dorla was a heap of bones on the floor, the skin hanging on the nail behind the door, and the skull grinning in the window.Without a word he gathered the bones into the table-cloth and started back.As he neared home the old dog said:“Bow-wow, mistress, here comes the master and it’s rattle-rattle before him and rattle-rattle behind him.”“Not so, old dog!” cried the woman. “It’s chink-chink before him, and chink-chink behind him!”But the old dog kept on barking and saying:“No, no, bow-wow, it’s rattle-rattle before him and rattle-rattle behind him!”In a rage the woman took a stick and beat the dog.Then the man stepped into the cottage and at once his wife brought out a basket for the ducats. But when he shook out the table-cloth there was only the rattle-rattle of bones.
Pear Blossom had been the name of a little Korean maid who was suddenly left motherless. When her father, Kang Wa, who was a magistrate high in office, married again, he took for his wife a proud widow whose daughter, born to Kang Wa, was named Violet. Mother and daughter hated housework and made Pear Blossom clean the rice, cook the food and attend to the fire in the kitchen. They were hateful in their treatment of Pear Blossom, and, besides never speaking a kind word, called her Pigling, or Little Pig, which made the girl weep often. It did no good to complain to her father, for he was always busy. He smoked his yard-long pipe and played checkers hour by hour, apparently caring more about having his great white coat properly starched and lustred than for his daughter to be happy. His linen had to be beaten with a laundry club until it glistened like hoar frost, and, except his wide-brimmed black horsehair hat, he looked immaculately white when he went out of the house to the Government office.Poor Pigling had to perform this task of washing, starching and glossing, in addition to the kitchen work and the rat-tat-tat of her laundry stick was often heard in the outer room till after midnight, when her heartless stepsister and mother had long been asleep. There was to be a great festival in the city and for many days preparations were made in the house to get the father ready in his best robe and hat, and the women in their finery, to go out and see the king and the royal procession. Poor Pigling wanted very much to have a look at the pageant, but the cruel stepmother, setting before her a huge straw bag of unhuUed rice and a big cracked water jar, told her she must husk all the rice, and, drawing water from the well, fill the crock to the brim before she dared to go out on the street. What a task to hull with her fingers three bushels of rice and fill up a leaky vessel! Pigling wept bitterly. How could it ever be done?“She heard a whir and a rush of wings.” Illustration by unknown artist, published in The Unmannerly Tiger and other Korean Tales by William Elliot Griffis (1911), Thomas Y. Crowell Company.While she was brooding thus and opening the straw bag to begin spreading the rice out on mats, she heard a whir and a rush of wings and down came a flock of pigeons. They first h’ghted on her head and shoulders, and then hopping to the floor began diligently, with beak and claw, and in a few minutes the rice lay in a heap, clean, white, and glistening, while with their pink toes they pulled away the hulls and put these in a separate pile. Then, after a great chattering and cooing, the flock was off and away. Pigling was so amazed at this wonderful work of the birds that she scarcely knew how to be thankful enough. But, alas, there was still the cracked crock to be filled. Just as she took hold of the bucket to begin there crawled out of the fire hole a sooty black imp, named Tokgabi. ” Don’t cry,” he squeaked out. ” I’ll mend the broken part and fill the big jar for you.” Forthwith, he stopped up the crack with clay, and pouring a dozen buckets of water from the well into the crock, it was filled to brimming and the water spilled over on all sides. Then Tokgabi the imp bowed and crawled into the flues again, before the astonished girl could thank her helper.So Pigling had time to dress in her plain but clean clothes that were snow-white. She went off and saw the royal banners and the king’s grand procession of thousands of loyal men. The next time, the stepmother and her favorite daughter planned a picnic on the mountain. So the refreshments were prepared and Pigling had to work hard in starching the dresses to be worn —jackets, long skirts, belts, sashes, and what not, until she nearly dropped with fatigue. Yet instead of thanking and cheering her, the cruel stepmother told Pigling she must not go out until she had hoed all the weeds in the garden and pulled up all the grass between the stones of the walk. Again the poor girl’s face was wet with tears. She was left at home alone, while the others went off in fine clothes, with plenty to eat and drink, for a day of merrymaking. While weeping thus, a huge black cow came along and out of its great liquid eyes seemed to beam compassion upon the kitchen slave. Then, in ten mouthfuls, the animal ate up the weeds, and, between its hoof and lips, soon made an end of the grass in the stone pathway. With her tears dried Pigling followed this wonderful brute out over the meadows into the woods, where she found the most delicious fruit her eyes ever rested upon. She tasted and enjoyed, feasting to the full and then returned home.When the jealous stepsister heard of the astonishing doings of the black cow, she determined to enjoy a feast in the forest also. So on the next gala-day she stayed home and let the kitchen drudge go to see the royal parade. Pigling could not understand why she was excused, even for a few hours, from the pots and kettles, but she was still more surprised by the gift from her stepmother of a rope of cash to spend for dainties. Gratefully thanking the woman, she put on her best clothes and was soon on the main street of the city enjoying the gay sights and looking at the happy people. There were tight rope dancing, music with drum and flute by bands of strolling players, tricks by conjurers and mountebanks, with mimicking and castanets, posturing by the singing girls and fun of all sorts. Boys peddling honey candy, barley sugar and sweetmeats were out by the dozen. At the eating-house. Pigling had a good dinner of fried fish, boiled rice with red peppers, turnips, dried persimmons, roasted chestnuts and candied orange, and felt as happy as a queen. The selfish stepsister had stayed home, not to relieve Pigling of work, but to see the wonderful cow. So, when the black animal appeared and found its friend gone and with nothing to do, it went off into the forest. The stepsister at once followed in the tracks of the cow that took it into its head to go very fast, and into unpleasant places. Soon the girl found herself in a swamp, wet, miry and full of brambles. Still hoping for wonderful fruit, she kept on until she was tired out and the cow was no longer to be seen. Then, muddy and bedraggled, she tried to go back, but the thorny bushes tore her clothes, spoiled her hands and so scratched her face that when at last, nearly dead, she got home, she was in rags and her beauty was gone.But Pigling, rosy and round, looked so lovely that a young man from the south, of good family and at that time visiting the capital, was struck with her beauty. And as he wanted a wife, he immediately sought to find out where she lived. Then he secured a go-between who visited both families and made all the arrangements for the betrothal and marriage. Grand was the wedding. The groom, Su-wen, was dressed in white and black silk robes, with a rich horsehair cap and head-dress denoting his rank as a Yang-ban, or gentleman. On his breast, crossed by a silver-studded girdle, was a golden square embroidered with flying cranes rising above waves — the symbols of civil ofiice. He was tall, handsome, richly cultured, and quite famous as a writer of verses, besides being well read in the classics. Charming, indeed, looked Pear Blossom, in her robe of brocade, and long undersleeves which extended from her inner dress of snowwhite silk. Dainty were her red kid shoes curved upward at the toes. With a baldric of open-worked silver, a high-waisted long skirt, with several linings of her inner silk robes showing prettily at the neck, and the silver bridal ring on her finger, she looked as lovely as a princess. She wore a lofty head-dress of silk velvet decorated with tinsel and flowers, which were inwoven with her own long black tresses, while on her forehead was the crimson disk or spot denoting the bride. Long silvehairpins, tipped with jade, completed her headgear. The chief ornament of the bridal festival and symbol of undying love was that of a real, live goose. The wild geese, that soar in the sky, pluck pine branches from the north and carry them as tokens of return again to the far south. Graceful in flight, unwearied of wing, soaring high in the air above all danger of hunter, snare, trap, or arrow, the wild goose is the emblem of constancy, since it never seeks but one mate, and, losing that, takes none again. The snow-white wild goose is the pattern of marital virtue and the symbol of constancy in love.So with her original name now restored, and henceforward called Ewa, or Pear Blossom, the daughter of Kang Wa was to be Mrs. Su-wen. It was astonishing what new interest the hitherto neglectful father took in his daughter as soon as she was sought for in marriage. Leaving her home in a palanquin borne by four lusty bearers, Pear Blossom went forth to live amid the rich rice fields of a southern province. Her home was with a father and mother-in-law, who, having no other children but their one son, became very fond of their new daughter. Summer after summer the pear trees bloomed and Ewa, the Pear Blossom, lived ever happily. As a good wife, she fulfilled in her life the significance of the symbol of marital bliss the figure of the wild goose, which flies far in the heavens, graceful and untiring, the mirror of loyalty and faithfulness and, from of old, reputed to have but one mate. Besides her bridal dower, her father asked Pear Blossom what she preferred as a special present. When she told him, he laughed heartily, even until his eyes, like two old roofspouts, leaked with tears. Nevertheless he fulfilled her wishes and to this day, in the boudoir of Pear Blossom, now Mrs. Su-wen, there stands ever, before the good wife and happy mother of sons, an earthen figure of a black cow moulded and baked from the clay of her home province, while under a pear tree that bursts into bloom every spring time and sheds on the ground a snowy shower that falls not from the skies, happy children play.
Harry was lazy, and although he had nothing else to do but drive his goat daily to pasture, he nevertheless groaned when he went home after his day’s work was done. “It is indeed a heavy burden,” said he, “and a wearisome employment to drive a goat into the field this way year after year, till late into the autumn! If one could but lie down and sleep, but no, one must have one’s eyes open lest it hurts the young trees, or squeezes itself through the hedge into a garden, or runs away altogether. How can one have any rest, or peace of one’s life?” He seated himself, collected his thoughts, and considered how he could set his shoulders free from this burden. For a long time all thinking was to no purpose, but suddenly it was as if scales fell from his eyes. “I know what I will do,” he cried, “I will marry fat Trina who has also a goat, and can take mine out with hers, and then I shall have no more need to trouble myself.”So Harry got up, set his weary legs in motion, and went right across the street, for it was no farther, to where the parents of fat Trina lived, and asked for their industrious and virtuous daughter in marriage. The parents did not reflect long. “Birds of a feather, flock together,” they thought, and consented.So fat Trina became Harry’s wife, and led out both the goats. Harry had a good time of it, and had no work that he required to rest from but his own idleness. He only went out with her now and then, and said, “I merely do it that I may afterwards enjoy rest more, otherwise one loses all feeling for it.”But fat Trina was no less idle. “Dear Harry,” said she one day, “why should we make our lives so toilsome when there is no need for it, and thus ruin the best days of our youth? Would it not be better for us to give the two goats which disturb us every morning in our sweetest sleep with their bleating, to our neighbour, and he will give us a beehive for them. We will put the beehive in a sunny place behind the house, and trouble ourselves no more about it. Bees do not require to be taken care of, or driven into the field; they fly out and find the way home again for themselves, and collect honey without giving the very least trouble.” “Thou hast spoken like a sensible woman,” replied Harry. “We will carry out thy proposal without delay, and besides all that, honey tastes better and nourishes one better than goat’s milk, and it can be kept longer too.”The neighbour willingly gave a beehive for the two goats. The bees flew in and out from early morning till late evening without ever tiring, and filled the hive with the most beautiful honey, so that in autumn Harry was able to take a whole pitcherful out of it.They placed the jug on a board which was fixed to the wall of their bed-room, and as they were afraid that it might be stolen from them, or that the mice might find it, Trina brought in a stout hazel-stick and put it beside her bed, so that without unnecessary getting up she might reach it with her hand, and drive away the uninvited guests. Lazy Harry did not like to leave his bed before noon. “He who rises early,” said he, “wastes his substance.”One morning when he was still lying amongst the feathers in broad daylight, resting after his long sleep, he said to his wife, “Women are fond of sweet things, and thou art always tasting the honey in private; it will be better for us to exchange it for a goose with a young gosling, before thou eatest up the whole of it.” “But,” answered Trina, “not before we have a child to take care of them! Am I to worry myself with the little geese, and spend all my strength on them to no purpose?” “Dost thou think,” said Harry, “that the youngster will look after geese? Now-a-days children no longer obey, they do according to their own fancy, because they consider themselves cleverer than their parents, just like that lad who was sent to seek the cow and chased three blackbirds.” “Oh,” replied Trina, “this one shall fare badly if he does not do what I say! I will take a stick and belabour his skin for him with more blows than I can count. Look, Harry,” cried she in her zeal, and seized the stick which she had to drive the mice away with, “Look, this is the way I will fall on him!” She reached her arm out to strike, but unhappily hit the honey-pitcher above the bed. The pitcher struck against the wall and fell down in fragments, and the fine honey streamed down on the ground. “There lie the goose and the young gosling,” said Harry, “and want no looking after. But it is lucky that the pitcher did not fall on my head. We have all reason to be satisfied with our lot.” And then as he saw that there was still some honey in one of the fragments he stretched out his hand for it, and said quite gaily, “The remains, my wife, we will still eat with a relish, and we will rest a little after the fright we have had. What matters if we do get up a little later the day is always long enough.” “Yes,” answered Trina, “we shall always get to the end of it at the proper time. Dost thou know that the snail was once asked to a wedding and set out to go, but arrived at the christening. In front of the house it fell over the fence, and said, ‘Speed does no good.'”
It is a strange thing, when I feel most fervently and most deeply, my hands and my tongue seem alike tied, so that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter; my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who have seen my sketches and fancies say the same.I am a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest of lanes; but I do not want for light, as my room is high up in the house, with an extensive prospect over the neighbouring roofs. During the first few days I went to live in the town, I felt low-spirited and solitary enough. Instead of the forest and the green hills of former days, I had here only a forest of chimney-pots to look out upon. And then I had not a single friend; not one familiar face greeted me.So one evening I sat at the window, in a desponding mood; and presently I opened the casement and looked out. Oh, how my heart leaped up with joy! Here was a well-known face at last—a round, friendly countenance, the face of a good friend I had known at home. In, fact, it was the MOON that looked in upon me. He was quite unchanged, the dear old Moon, and had the same face exactly that he used to show when he peered down upon me through the willow trees on the moor.I kissed my hand to him over and over again, as he shone far into my little room; and he, for his part, promised me that every evening, when he came abroad, he would look in upon me for a few moments. This promise he has faithfully kept. It is a pity that he can only stay such a short time when he comes. Whenever he appears, he tells me of one thing or another that he has seen on the previous night, or on that same evening. “Just paint the scenes I describe to you”—this is what he said to me—“and you will have a very pretty picture-book.”I have followed his injunction for many evenings. I could make up a new “Thousand and One Nights,” in my own way, out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, after all. The pictures I have here given have not been chosen at random, but follow in their proper order, just as they were described to me. Some great gifted painter, or some poet or musician, may make something more of them if he likes; what I have given here are only hasty sketches, hurriedly put upon the paper, with some of my own thoughts, interspersed; for the Moon did not come to me every evening— a cloud sometimes hid his face from me.First Evening“Last night”—I am quoting the Moon’s own words—“last night I was gliding through the cloudless Indian sky. My face was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my beams strove to pierce through the thick intertwining boughs of the bananas, arching beneath me like the tortoise’s shell. Forth from the thicket tripped a Hindoo maid, light as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve. Airy and etherial as a vision, and yet sharply defined amid the surrounding shadows, stood this daughter of Hindostan: I could read on her delicate brow the thought that had brought her hither. The thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she came rapidly forward. The deer that had come down to the river to quench her thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, for in her hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see the blood in her delicate finger tips, as she spread them for a screen before the dancing flame. She came down to the stream, and set the lamp upon the water, and let it float away. The flame flickered to and fro, and seemed ready to expire; but still the lamp burned on, and the girl’s black sparkling eyes, half veiled behind their long silken lashes, followed it with a gaze of earnest intensity.She knew that if the lamp continued to burn so long as she could keep it in sight, her betrothed was still alive; but if the lamp was suddenly extinguished, he was dead. And the lamp burned bravely on, and she fell on her knees, and prayed. Near her in the grass lay a speckled snake, but she heeded it not—she thought only of Bramah and of her betrothed. ‘He lives!’ she shouted joyfully, ‘he lives!’ And from the mountains the echo came back upon her, ‘he lives!’”Second Evening“Yesterday,” said the Moon to me, “I looked down upon a small courtyard surrounded on all sides by houses. In the courtyard sat a clucking hen with eleven chickens; and a pretty little girl was running and jumping around them. The hen was frightened, and screamed, and spread out her wings over the little brood. Then the girl’s father came out and scolded her; and I glided away and thought no more of the matter.“But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same courtyard. Everything was quiet. But presently the little girl came forth again, crept quietly to the hen-house, pushed back the bolt, and slipped into the apartment of the hen and chickens. They cried out loudly, and came fluttering down from their perches, and ran about in dismay, and the little girl ran after them. I saw it quite plainly, for I looked through a hole in the hen-house wall.I was angry with the willful child, and felt glad when her father came out and scolded her more violently than yesterday, holding her roughly by the arm; she held down her head, and her blue eyes were full of large tears. ‘What are you about here?’ he asked. She wept and said, ‘I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her pardon for frightening her yesterday; but I was afraid to tell you.’“And the father kissed the innocent child’s forehead, and I kissed her on the mouth and eyes.”Third EveningOn the narrow street round the corner yonder—it is so narrow that my beams can only glide for a minute along the walls of the house, but in that minute I see enough to learn what the world is made of—in that narrow street I saw a woman. Sixteen years ago that woman was a child, playing in the garden of the old parsonage, in the country.The hedges of rose-bush were old, and the flowers were faded. They straggled wild over the paths, and the ragged branches grew up among the boughs of the apple trees; here and there were a few roses still in bloom—not so fair as the queen of flowers generally appears, but still they had colour and scent too. The clergyman’s little daughter appeared to me a far lovelier rose, as she sat on her stool under the straggling hedge, hugging and caressing her doll with the battered pasteboard cheeks.“Ten years afterwards I saw her again. I beheld her in a splendid ballroom: she was the beautiful bride of a rich merchant. I rejoiced at her happiness, and sought her on calm quiet evenings— ah, nobody thinks of my clear eye and my silent glance! Alas! my rose ran wild, like the rose bushes in the garden of the parsonage. There are tragedies in every-day life, and tonight I saw the last act of one.“She was lying in bed in a house in that narrow street: she was sick unto death, and the cruel landlord came up, and tore away the thin coverlet, her only protection against the cold. ‘Get up!’ said he; ‘your face is enough to frighten one. Get up and dress yourself, give me money, or I’ll turn you out into the street! Quick—get up!’ She answered, ‘Alas! death is gnawing at my heart. Let me rest.’ But he forced her to get up and bathe her face, and put a wreath of roses in her hair; and he placed her in a chair at the window, with a candle burning beside her, and went away.“I looked at her, and she was sitting motionless, with her hands in her lap. The wind caught the open window and shut it with a crash, so that a pane came clattering down in fragments; but still she never moved. The curtain caught fire, and the flames played about her face; and I saw that she was dead. There at the open window sat the dead woman, preaching a sermon against sin—my poor faded rose out of the parsonage garden!”Fourth Evening“This evening I saw a German play acted,” said the Moon. “It was in a little town. A stable had been turned into a theatre; that is to say, the stable had been left standing, and had been turned into private boxes, and all the timber work had been covered with coloured paper. A little iron chandelier hung beneath the ceiling, and that it might be made to disappear into the ceiling, as it does in great theatres, when the ting-ting of the prompter’s bell is heard, a great inverted tub has been placed just above it.“‘Ting-ting!’ and the little iron chandelier suddenly rose at least half a yard and disappeared in the tub; and that was the sign that the play was going to begin. A young nobleman and his lady, who happened to be passing through the little town, were present at the performance, and consequently the house was crowded. But under the chandelier was a vacant space like a little crater: not a single soul sat there, for the tallow was dropping, drip, drip!I saw everything, for it was so warm in there that every loophole had been opened. The male and female servants stood outside, peeping through the chinks, although a real policeman was inside, threatening them with a stick. Close by the orchestra could be seen the noble young couple in two old arm-chairs, which were usually occupied by his worship the mayor and his lady; but these latter were to-day obliged to content themselves with wooden forms, just as if they had been ordinary citizens; and the lady observed quietly to herself, ‘One sees, now, that there is rank above rank;’ and this incident gave an air of extra festivity to the whole proceedings. The chandelier gave little leaps, the crowd got their knuckles rapped, and I, the Moon, was present at the performance from beginning to end.”Fifth Evening“Yesterday,” began the Moon, “I looked down upon the turmoil of Paris. My eye penetrated into an apartment of the Louvre. An old grandmother, poorly clad—she belonged to the working class—was following one of the under-servants into the great empty throne-room, for this was the apartment she wanted to see—that she was resolved to see; it had cost her many a little sacrifice, and many a coaxing word, to penetrate thus far. She folded her thin hands, and looked round with an air of reverence, as if she had been in a church.“‘Here it was!’ she said, ‘here!’ and she approached the throne, from which hung the rich velvet fringed with gold lace. ‘There,’ she exclaimed, ‘there!’ and she knelt and kissed the purple carpet. I think she was actually weeping.“‘But it was not this very velvet!’ observed the footman, and a smile played about his mouth. ‘True, but it was this very place,’ replied the woman, ‘and it must have looked just like this’. ‘It looked so, and yet it did not,’ observed the man: ‘the windows were beaten in, and the doors were off their hinges, and there was blood upon the floor.’ ‘But for all that you can say, my grandson died upon the throne of France. Died!’ mournfully repeated the old woman. I do not think another word was spoken, and they soon quitted the hall. The evening twilight faded and my light shone doubly vivid upon the rich velvet that covered the throne of France.“Now who do you think this poor woman was? Listen, I will tell you a story.“It happened, in the Revolution of July, on the evening of the most brilliantly victorious day, when every house was a fortress, every window a breastwork. The people stormed the Tuileries. Even women and children were to be found among the combatants. They penetrated into the apartments and halls of the palace. A poor half-grown boy in a ragged blouse fought among the older insurgents. Mortally wounded with several bayonet thrusts, he sank down. This happened in the throne-room.They laid the bleeding youth upon the throne of France, wrapped the velvet around his wounds, and his blood streamed forth upon the imperial purple. There was a picture! The splendid hall, the fighting groups! A torn flag upon the ground, the tricolor was waving above the bayonets, and on the throne lay the poor lad with the pale glorified countenance, his eyes turned towards the sky, his limbs writhing in the death agony, his breast bare, and his poor tattered clothing half hidden by the rich velvet embroidered with silver lilies. At the boy’s cradle a prophecy had been spoken: ‘He will die on the throne of France!’ The mother’s heart dreamt of a second Napoleon.“My beams have kissed the wreath of immortelles on his grave, and this night they kissed the forehead of the old grandame, while in a dream the picture floated before her which thou mayest draw— the poor boy on the throne of France.”Sixth Evening“I’ve been in Upsala,” said the Moon: “I looked down upon the great plain covered with coarse grass, and upon the barren fields. I mirrored my face in the Tyris river, while the steamboat drove the fish into the rushes. Beneath me floated the waves, throwing long shadows on the so-called graves of Odin, Thor, and Friga.In the scanty turf that covers the hill-side names have been cut. There is no monument here, no memorial on which the traveller can have his name carved, no rocky wall on whose surface he can get it painted; so visitors have the turf cut away for that purpose. The naked earth peers through in the form of great letters and names; these form a network over the whole hill. Here is an immortality, which lasts till the fresh turf grows!“Up on the hill stood a man, a poet. He emptied the mead horn with the broad silver rim, and murmured a name. He begged the winds not to betray him, but I heard the name. I knew it. A count’s coronet sparkles above it, and therefore he did not speak it out. I smiled, for I knew that a poet’s crown adorns his own name. The nobility of Eleanora d’Este is attached to the name of Tasso. And I also know where the Rose of Beauty blooms!”Thus spake the Moon, and a cloud came between us. May no cloud separate the poet from the rose!Seventh EveningAlong the margin of the shore stretches a forest of firs and beeches, and fresh and fragrant is this wood; hundreds of nightingales visit it every spring. Close beside it is the sea, the ever-changing sea, and between the two is placed the broad high-road. One carriage after another rolls over it; but I did not follow them, for my eye loves best to rest upon one point. A Hun’s Grave lies there, and the sloe and blackthorn grow luxuriantly among the stones. Here is true poetry in nature.“And how do you think men appreciate this poetry? I will tell you what I heard there last evening and during the night.“First, two rich landed proprietors came driving by. ‘Those are glorious trees!’ said the first. ‘Certainly; there are ten loads of firewood in each,’ observed the other: ‘it will be a hard winter, and last year we got fourteen dollars a load’—and they were gone. ‘The road here is wretched,’ observed another man who drove past. ‘That’s the fault of those horrible trees,’ replied his neighbour; ‘there is no free current of air; the wind can only come from the sea’—and they were gone. The stage coach went rattling past.All the passengers were asleep at this beautiful spot. The postillion blew his horn, but he only thought, ‘I can play capitally. It sounds well here. I wonder if those in there like it?’—and the stage coach vanished.Then two young fellows came gallopping up on horseback. There’s youth and spirit in the blood here! thought I; and, indeed, they looked with a smile at the moss-grown hill and thick forest. ‘I should not dislike a walk here with the miller’s Christine,’ said one— and they flew past.“The flowers scented the air; every breath of air was hushed; it seemed as if the sea were a part of the sky that stretched above the deep valley. A carriage rolled by. Six people were sitting in it. Four of them were asleep; the fifth was thinking of his new summer coat, which would suit him admirably; the sixth turned to the coachman and asked him if there were anything remarkable connected with yonder heap of stones.‘No,’ replied the coachman, ‘it’s only a heap of stones; but the trees are remarkable.’ ‘How so?’ ‘Why I’ll tell you how they are very remarkable. You see, in winter, when the snow lies very deep, and has hidden the whole road so that nothing is to be seen, those trees serve me for a landmark. I steer by them, so as not to drive into the sea; and you see that is why the trees are remarkable.’“Now came a painter. He spoke not a word, but his eyes sparkled. He began to whistle. At this the nightingales sang louder than ever. ‘Hold your tongues!’ he cried testily; and he made accurate notes of all the colours and transitions—blue, and lilac, and dark brown. ‘That will make a beautiful picture,’ he said. He took it in just as a mirror takes in a view; and as he worked he whistled a march of Rossini.And last of all came a poor girl. She laid aside the burden she carried, and sat down to rest upon the Hun’s Grave. Her pale handsome face was bent in a listening attitude towards the forest. Her eyes brightened, she gazed earnestly at the sea and the sky, her hands were folded, and I think she prayed, ‘Our Father.’ She herself could not understand the feeling that swept through her, but I know that this minute, and the beautiful natural scene, will live within her memory for years, far more vividly and more truly than the painter could portray it with his colours on paper. My rays followed her till the morning dawn kissed her brow.”Eighth EveningHeavy clouds obscured the sky, and the Moon did not make his appearance at all. I stood in my little room, more lonely than ever, and looked up at the sky where he ought to have shown himself. My thoughts flew far away, up to my great friend, who every evening told me such pretty tales, and showed me pictures. Yes, he has had an experience indeed.He glided over the waters of the Deluge, and smiled on Noah’s ark just as he lately glanced down upon me, and brought comfort and promise of a new world that was to spring forth from the old. When the Children of Israel sat weeping by the waters of Babylon, he glanced mournfully upon the willows where hung the silent harps.When Romeo climbed the balcony, and the promise of true love fluttered like a cherub toward heaven, the round Moon hung, half hidden among the dark cypresses, in the lucid air. He saw the captive giant at St. Helena, looking from the lonely rock across the wide ocean, while great thoughts swept through his soul. Ah! what tales the Moon can tell.Human life is like a story to him. To-night I shall not see thee again, old friend. Tonight I can draw no picture of the memories of thy visit. And, as I looked dreamily towards the clouds, the sky became bright. There was a glancing light, and a beam from the Moon fell upon me. It vanished again, and dark clouds flew past: but still it was a greeting, a friendly good-night offered to me by the Moon.Ninth EveningThe air was clear again. Several evenings had passed, and the Moon was in the first quarter. Again he gave me an outline for a sketch. Listen to what he told me.“I have followed the polar bird and the swimming whale to the eastern coast of Greenland. Gaunt ice-covered rocks and dark clouds hung over a valley, where dwarf willows and barberry bushes stood clothed in green. The blooming lychnis exhaled sweet odours. My light was faint, my face pale as the water lily that, torn from its stem, has been drifting for weeks with the tide. The crown-shaped Northern Light burned fiercely in the sky. Its ring was broad, and from its circumference the rays shot like whirling shafts of fire across the whole sky, flashing in changing radiance from green to red. The inhabitants of that icy region were assembling for dance and festivity; but, accustomed to this glorious spectacle, they scarcely deigned to glance at it.‘Let us leave the soul of the dead to their ball-play with the heads of the walruses,’ they thought in their superstition, and they turned their whole attention to the song and dance. In the midst of the circle, and divested of his furry cloak, stood a Greenlander, with a small pipe, and he played and sang a song about catching the seal, and the chorus around chimed in with, ‘Eia, Eia, Ah.’ And in their white furs they danced about in the circle, till you might fancy it was a polar bear’s ball.“And now a Court of Judgment was opened. Those Greenlanders who had quarrelled stepped forward, and the offended person chanted forth the faults of his adversary in an extempore song, turning them sharply into ridicule, to the sound of the pipe and the measure of the dance. The defendant replied with satire as keen, while the audience laughed, and gave their verdict. The rocks heaved, the glaciers melted, and great masses of ice and snow came crashing down, shivering to fragments as they fall; it was a glorious Greenland summer night. A hundred paces away, under the open tent of hides, lay a sick man. Life still flowed through his warm blood, but still he was to die—he himself felt it, and all who stood round him knew it also; therefore his wife was already sewing round him the shroud of furs, that she might not afterwards be obliged to touch the dead body.And she asked, ‘Wilt thou be buried on the rock, in the firm snow? I will deck the spot with thy kayak, and thy arrows, and the angekokk shall dance over it. Or wouldst thou rather be buried in the sea?’‘In the sea,’ he whispered, and nodded with a mournful smile. ‘Yes, it is a pleasant summer tent, the sea,’ observed the wife. ‘Thousands of seals sport there, the walrus shall lie at thy feet, and the hunt will be safe and merry!’ And the yelling children tore the outspread hide from the window-hole, that the dead man might be carried to the ocean, the billowy ocean, that had given him food in life, and that now, in death, was to afford him a place of rest. For his monument, he had the floating, ever-changing icebergs, whereon the seal sleeps, while the storm bird flies round their gleaming summits!”Tenth Evening“I knew an old maid,” said the Moon. “Every winter she wore a wrapper of yellow satin, and it always remained new, and was the only fashion she followed. In summer she always wore the same straw hat, and I verily believe the very same gray-blue dress.“She never went out, except across the street to an old female friend; and in later years she did not even take this walk, for the old friend was dead. In her solitude my old maid was always busy at the window, which was adorned in summer with pretty flowers, and in winter with cress, grown upon felt.During the last months I saw her no more at the window, but she was still alive. I knew that, for I had not yet seen her begin the ‘long journey,’ of which she often spoke with her friend. ‘Yes, yes,’ she was in the habit of saying, ‘when I come to die I shall take a longer journey than I have made my whole life long. Our family vault is six miles from here. I shall be carried there, and shall sleep there among my family and relatives.’Last night a van stopped at the house. A coffin was carried out, and then I knew that she was dead. They placed straw round the coffin, and the van drove away. There slept the quiet old lady, who had not gone out of her house once for the last year. The van rolled out through the town-gate as briskly as if it were going for a pleasant excursion. On the high-road the pace was quicker yet. The coachman looked nervously round every now and then—I fancy he half expected to see her sitting on the coffin, in her yellow satin wrapper.And because he was startled, he foolishly lashed his horses, while he held the reins so tightly that the poor beasts were in a foam: they were young and fiery. A hare jumped across the road and startled them, and they fairly ran away. The old sober maiden, who had for years and years moved quietly round and round in a dull circle, was now, in death, rattled over stock and stone on the public highway. The coffin in its covering of straw tumbled out of the van, and was left on the high-road, while horses, coachman, and carriage flew past in wild career. The lark rose up carolling from the field, twittering her morning lay over the coffin, and presently perched upon it, picking with her beak at the straw covering, as though she would tear it up. The lark rose up again, singing gaily, and I withdrew behind the red morning clouds.”Eleventh Evening“I will give you a picture of Pompeii,” said the Moon. “I was in the suburb in the Street of Tombs, as they call it, where the fair monuments stand, in the spot where, ages ago, the merry youths, their temples bound with rosy wreaths, danced with the fair sisters of Lais. Now, the stillness of death reigned around.German mercenaries, in the Neapolitan service, kept guard, played cards, and diced; and a troop of strangers from beyond the mountains came into the town, accompanied by a sentry. They wanted to see the city that had risen from the grave illumined by my beams; and I showed them the wheel-ruts in the streets paved with broad lava slabs; I showed them the names on the doors, and the signs that hung there yet: they saw in the little courtyard the basins of the fountains, ornamented with shells; but no jet of water gushed upwards, no songs sounded forth from the richly-painted chambers, where the bronze dog kept the door.“It was the City of the Dead; only Vesuvius thundered forth his everlasting hymn, each separate verse of which is called by men an eruption. We went to the temple of Venus, built of snow-white marble, with its high altar in front of the broad steps, and the weeping willows sprouting freshly forth among the pillars. The air was transparent and blue, and black Vesuvius formed the background, with fire ever shooting forth from it, like the stem of the pine tree. Above it stretched the smoky cloud in the silence of the night, like the crown of the pine, but in a blood-red illumination. Among the company was a lady singer, a real and great singer. I have witnessed the homage paid to her in the greatest cities of Europe.When they came to the tragic theatre, they all sat down on the amphitheatre steps, and thus a small part of the house was occupied by an audience, as it had been many centuries ago. The stage still stood unchanged, with its walled side-scenes, and the two arches in the background, through which the beholders saw the same scene that had been exhibited in the old times—a scene painted by nature herself, namely, the mountains between Sorento and Amalfi.The singer gaily mounted the ancient stage, and sang. The place inspired her, and she reminded me of a wild Arab horse, that rushes headlong on with snorting nostrils and flying mane—her song was so light and yet so firm. Anon I thought of the mourning mother beneath the cross at Golgotha, so deep was the expression of pain. And, just as it had done thousands of years ago, the sound of applause and delight now filled the theatre.‘Happy, gifted creature!’ all the hearers exclaimed. Five minutes more, and the stage was empty, the company had vanished, and not a sound more was heard—all were gone. But the ruins stood unchanged, as they will stand when centuries shall have gone by, and when none shall know of the momentary applause and of the triumph of the fair songstress; when all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will be but a dream of the past.”Twelfth Evening“I looked through the windows of an editor’s house,” said the Moon. “It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, many books, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present: the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both by young authors, were to be noticed. ‘This one has been sent to me,’ said he.‘I have not read it yet; what think you of the contents?’‘Oh,’ said the person addressed—he was a poet himself—‘it is good enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is still young. The verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound, though there is certainly a good deal of common-place among them. But what will you have? You can’t be always getting something new. That he’ll turn out anything great I don’t believe, but you may safely praise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and has a good judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my ‘Reflections on Domestic Life.’ We must be lenient towards the young man.’“‘But he is a complete hack!’ objected another of the gentlemen. ‘Nothing worse in poetry than mediocrity, and he certainly does not go beyond this.’“‘Poor fellow,’ observed a third, ‘and his aunt is so happy about him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so many subscribers for your last translation.’“‘Ah, the good woman! Well, I have noticed the book briefly. Undoubted talent—a welcome offering—a flower in the garden of poetry—prettily brought out—and so on. But this other book—I suppose the author expects me to purchase it? I hear it is praised. He has genius, certainly: don’t you think so?’“‘Yes, all the world declares as much,’ replied the poet, ‘but it has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, in particular, is very eccentric.’“‘It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and anger him a little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself.’“‘But that would be unfair,’ objected the fourth. ‘Let us not carp at little faults, but rejoice over the real and abundant good that we find here: he surpasses all the rest.’“‘Not so. If he is a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice of censure. There are people enough to praise him. Don’t let us quite turn his head.’“‘Decided talent,’ wrote the editor, ‘with the usual carelessness. that he can write incorrect verses may be seen in page 25, where there are two false quantities. We recommend him to study the ancients, etc.’“I went away,” continued the Moon, “and looked through the windows in the aunt’s house. There sat the be-praised poet, the tame one; all the guests paid homage to him, and he was happy.“I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I found in a great assembly at his patron’s, where the tame poet’s book was being discussed.“‘I shall read yours also,’ said Maecenas; ‘but to speak honestly— you know I never hide my opinion from you—I don’t expect much from it, for you are much too wild, too fantastic. But it must be allowed that, as a man, you are highly respectable.’“A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book these words:“‘In the dust lies genius and glory,But ev’ry-day talent will pay.It’s only the old, old story,But the piece is repeated each day.’”Thirteenth EveningThe Moon said, “Beside the woodland path there are two small farm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the windows are placed quite high, and others close to the ground; and whitethorn and barberry bushes grow around them. The roof of each house is overgrown with moss and with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage and potatoes are the only plants cultivated in the gardens, but out of the hedge there grows a willow tree, and under this willow tree sat a little girl, and she sat with her eyes fixed upon the old oak tree between the two huts.“It was an old withered stem. It had been sawn off at the top, and a stork had built his nest upon it; and he stood in this nest clapping with his beak. A little boy came and stood by the girl’s side: they were brother and sister.“‘What are you looking at?’ he asked.“‘I’m watching the stork,’ she replied: ‘our neighbors told me that he would bring us a little brother or sister to-day; let us watch to see it come!’“‘The stork brings no such things,’ the boy declared, ‘you may be sure of that. Our neighbor told me the same thing, but she laughed when she said it, and so I asked her if she could say ‘On my honor,’ and she could not; and I know by that the story about the storks is not true, and that they only tell it to us children for fun.’“‘But where do babies come from, then?’ asked the girl.“‘Why, an angel from heaven brings them under his cloak, but no man can see him; and that’s why we never know when he brings them.’“At that moment there was a rustling in the branches of the willow tree, and the children folded their hands and looked at one another: it was certainly the angel coming with the baby. They took each other’s hand, and at that moment the door of one of the houses opened, and the neighbour appeared.“‘Come in, you two,’ she said. ‘See what the stork has brought. It is a little brother.’“And the children nodded gravely at one another, for they had felt quite sure already that the baby was come.”Fourteenth Evening“I was gliding over the Luneburg Heath,” the Moon said. “A lonely hut stood by the wayside, a few scanty bushes grew near it, and a nightingale who had lost his way sang sweetly. He died in the coldness of the night: it was his farewell song that I heard.“The morning dawn came glimmering red. I saw a caravan of emigrant peasant families who were bound to Hamburgh, there to take ship for America, where fancied prosperity would bloom for them. The mothers carried their little children at their backs, the elder ones tottered by their sides, and a poor starved horse tugged at a cart that bore their scanty effects.The cold wind whistled, and therefore the little girl nestled closer to the mother, who, looking up at my decreasing disc, thought of the bitter want at home, and spoke of the heavy taxes they had not been able to raise. The whole caravan thought of the same thing; therefore, the rising dawn seemed to them a message from the sun, of fortune that was to gleam brightly upon them. They heard the dying nightingale sing; it was no false prophet, but a harbinger of fortune.The wind whistled, therefore they did not understand that the nightingale sung, ‘Fare away over the sea! Thou hast paid the long passage with all that was thine, and poor and helpless shalt thou enter Canaan. Thou must sell thyself, thy wife, and thy children. But your griefs shall not last long. Behind the broad fragrant leaves lurks the goddess of Death, and her welcome kiss shall breathe fever into thy blood. Fare away, fare away, over the heaving billows.’And the caravan listened well pleased to the song of the nightingale, which seemed to promise good fortune. Day broke through the light clouds; country people went across the heath to church; the black-gowned women with their white head-dresses looked like ghosts that had stepped forth from the church pictures. All around lay a wide dead plain, covered with faded brown heath, and black charred spaces between the white sand hills. The women carried hymn books, and walked into the church. Oh, pray, pray for those who are wandering to find graves beyond the foaming billows.”Fifteenth EveningI know a Pulcinella,” the Moon told me. “The public applaud vociferously directly they see him. Every one of his movements is comic, and is sure to throw the house into convulsions of laughter; and yet there is no art in it all—it is complete nature. When he was yet a little boy, playing about with other boys, he was already Punch. Nature had intended him for it, and had provided him with a hump on his back, and another on his breast; but his inward man, his mind, on the contrary, was richly furnished.No one could surpass him in depth of feeling or in readiness of intellect. The theatre was his ideal world. If he had possessed a slender well-shaped figure, he might have been the first tragedian on any stage; the heroic, the great, filled his soul; and yet he had to become a Pulcinella. His very sorrow and melancholy did but increase the comic dryness of his sharply-cut features, and increased the laughter of the audience, who showered plaudits on their favourite. The lovely Columbine was indeed kind and cordial to him; but she preferred to marry the Harlequin. It would have been too ridiculous if beauty and ugliness had in reality paired together.“When Pulcinella was in very bad spirits, she was the only one who could force a hearty burst of laughter, or even a smile from him: first she would be melancholy with him, then quieter, and at last quite cheerful and happy.‘I know very well what is the matter with you,’ she said; ‘yes, you’re in love!’And he could not help laughing. ‘I and Love,’ he cried, ‘that would have an absurd look. How the public would shout!’‘Certainly, you are in love,’ she continued; and added with a comic pathos, ‘and I am the person you are in love with.’ You see, such a thing may be said when it is quite out of the question—and, indeed, Pulcinella burst out laughing, and gave a leap into the air, and his melancholy was forgotten.“And yet she had only spoken the truth. He did love her, love her adoringly, as he loved what was great and lofty in art. At her wedding he was the merriest among the guests, but in the stillness of night he wept: if the public had seen his distorted face then, they would have applauded rapturously.“And a few days ago, Columbine died. On the day of the funeral, Harlequin was not required to show himself on the boards, for he was a disconsolate widower. The director had to give a very merry piece, that the public might not too painfully miss the pretty Columbine and the agile Harlequin. Therefore Pulcinella had to be more boisterous and extravagant than ever; and he danced and capered, with despair in his heart; and the audience yelled, and shouted ‘bravo, bravissimo!’ Pulcinella was actually called before the curtain. He was pronounced inimitable.“But last night the hideous little fellow went out of the town, quite alone, to the deserted churchyard. The wreath of flowers on Columbine’s grave was already faded, and he sat down there. It was a study for a painter. As he sat with his chin on his hands, his eyes turned up towards me, he looked like a grotesque monument—a Punch on a grave—peculiar and whimsical! If the people could have seen their favourite, they would have cried as usual, ‘Bravo, Pulcinella; bravo, bravissimo!’ ”Sixteenth EveningHear what the Moon told me. “I have seen the cadet who had just been made an officer put on his handsome uniform for the first time; I have seen the young bride in her wedding dress, and the princess girl-wife happy in her gorgeous robes; but never have I seen a felicity equal to that of a little girl of four years old, whom I watched this evening.She had received a new blue dress, and a new pink hat, the splendid attire had just been put on, and all were calling for a candle, for my rays, shining in through the windows of the room, were not bright enough for the occasion, and further illumination was required.There stood the little maid, stiff and upright as a doll, her arms stretched painfully straight out away from the dress, and her fingers apart; and oh, what happiness beamed from her eyes, and from her whole countenance! ‘To-morrow you shall go out in your new clothes,’ said her mother; and the little one looked up at her hat, and down at her frock, and smiled brightly. ‘Mother,’ she cried, ‘what will the little dogs think, when they see me in these splendid new things?’”Seventeenth Evening“I have spoken to you of Pompeii,” said the Moon; “that corpse of a city, exposed in the view of living towns: I know another sight still more strange, and this is not the corpse, but the spectre of a city. Whenever the jetty fountains splash into the marble basins, they seem to me to be telling the story of the floating city. Yes, the spouting water may tell of her, the waves of the sea may sing of her fame!On the surface of the ocean a mist often rests, and that is her widow’s veil. The bridegroom of the sea is dead, his palace and his city are his mausoleum! Dost thou know this city? She has never heard the rolling of wheels or the hoof-tread of horses in her streets, through which the fish swim, while the black gondola glides spectrally over the green water.I will show you the place,” continued the Moon, “the largest square in it, and you will fancy yourself transported into the city of a fairy tale. The grass grows rank among the broad flagstones, and in the morning twilight thousands of tame pigeons flutter around the solitary lofty tower. On three sides you find yourself surrounded by cloistered walks. In these the silent Turk sits smoking his long pipe, the handsome Greek leans against the pillar and gazes at the upraised trophies and lofty masts, memorials of power that is gone. The flags hang down like mourning scarves.A girl rests there: she has put down her heavy pails filled with water, the yoke with which she has carried them rests on one of her shoulders, and she leans against the mast of victory. That is not a fairy palace you see before you yonder, but a church: the gilded domes and shining orbs flash back my beams; the glorious bronze horses up yonder have made journeys, like the bronze horse in the fairy tale: they have come hither, and gone hence, and have returned again. Do you notice the variegated splendour of the walls and windows? It looks as if Genius had followed the caprices of a child, in the adornment of these singular temples. Do you see the winged lion on the pillar?The gold glitters still, but his wings are tied—the lion is dead, for the king of the sea is dead; the great halls stand desolate, and where gorgeous paintings hung of yore, the naked wall now peers through. The lazzarone sleeps under the arcade, whose pavement in old times was to be trodden only by the feet of high nobility. From the deep wells, and perhaps from the prisons by the Bridge of Sighs, rise the accents of woe, as at the time when the tambourine was heard in the gay gondolas, and the golden ring was cast from the Bucentaur to Adria, the queen of the seas. Adria! shroud thyself in mists; let the veil of thy widowhood shroud thy form, and clothe in the weeds of woe the mausoleum of thy bridegroom—the marble, spectral Venice.”Eighteenth Evening“I looked down upon a great theatre,” said the Moon. “The house was crowded, for a new actor was to make his first appearance that night. My rays glided over a little window in the wall, and I saw a painted face with the forehead pressed against the panes. It was the hero of the evening. The knighly beard curled crisply about the chin; but there were tears in the man’s eyes, for he had been hissed off, and indeed with reason. The poor Incapable! But Incapables cannot be admitted into the empire of Art. He had deep feeling, and loved his art enthusiastically, but the art loved not him.The prompter’s bell sounded; ‘the hero enters with a determined air,’ so ran the stage direction in his part, and he had to appear before an audience who turned him into ridicule. When the piece was over, I saw a form wrapped in a mantle, creeping down the steps: it was the vanquished knight of the evening. The scene-shifters whispered to one another, and I followed the poor fellow home to his room.To hang one’s self is to die a mean death, and poison is not always at hand, I know; but he thought of both. I saw how he looked at his pale face in the glass, with eyes half closed, to see if he should look well as a corpse. A man may be very unhappy, and yet exceedingly affected. He thought of death, of suicide; I believe he pitied himself, for he wept bitterly, and when a man has had his cry out he doesn’t kill himself.“Since that time a year had rolled by. Again a play was to be acted, but in a little theatre, and by a poor strolling company. Again I saw the well-remembered face, with the painted cheeks and the crisp beard. He looked up at me and smiled; and yet he had been hissed off only a minute before—hissed off from a wretched theatre, by a miserable audience. And tonight a shabby hearse rolled out of the town-gate. It was a suicide—our painted, despised hero. The driver of the hearse was the only person present, for no one followed except my beams. In a corner of the churchyard the corpse of the suicide was shovelled into the earth, and nettles will soon be growing rankly over his grave, and the sexton will throw thorns and weeds from the other graves upon it.”Nineteenth Evening“I come from Rome,” said the Moon. “In the midst of the city, upon one of the seven hills, lie the ruins of the imperial palace. The wild fig tree grows in the clefts of the wall, and covers the nakedness thereof with its broad grey-green leaves; trampling among heaps of rubbish, the ass treads upon green laurels, and rejoices over the rank thistles.From this spot, whence the eagles of Rome once flew abroad, whence they ‘came, saw, and conquered,’ our door leads into a little mean house, built of clay between two pillars; the wild vine hangs like a mourning garland over the crooked window. An old woman and her little granddaughter live there: they rule now in the palace of the Caesars, and show to strangers the remains of its past glories. Of the splendid throne-hall only a naked wall yet stands, and a black cypress throws its dark shadow on the spot where the throne once stood.The dust lies several feet deep on the broken pavement; and the little maiden, now the daughter of the imperial palace, often sits there on her stool when the evening bells ring. The keyhole of the door close by she calls her turret window; through this she can see half Rome, as far as the mighty cupola of St. Peter’s.“On this evening, as usual, stillness reigned around; and in the full beam of my light came the little granddaughter. On her head she carried an earthen pitcher of antique shape filled with water. Her feet were bare, her short frock and her white sleeves were torn. I kissed her pretty round shoulders, her dark eyes, and black shining hair. She mounted the stairs; they were steep, having been made up of rough blocks of broken marble and the capital of a fallen pillar.The coloured lizards slipped away, startled, from before her feet, but she was not frightened at them. Already she lifted her hand to pull the door-bell—a hare’s foot fastened to a string formed the bell-handle of the imperial palace. She paused for a moment—of what might she be thinking?Perhaps of the beautiful Christ-child, dressed in gold and silver, which was down below in the chapel, where the silver candlesticks gleamed so bright, and where her little friends sung the hymns in which she also could join? I know not. Presently she moved again—she stumbled: the earthen vessel fell from her head, and broke on the marble steps. She burst into tears. The beautiful daughter of the imperial palace wept over the worthless broken pitcher; with her bare feet she stood there weeping; and dared not pull the string, the bell-rope of the imperial palace!”Twentieth EveningIr was more than a fortnight since the Moon had shone. Now he stood once more, round and bright, above the clouds, moving slowly onward. Hear what the Moon told me.“From a town in Fezzan I followed a caravan. On the margin of the sandy desert, in a salt plain, that shone like a frozen lake, and was only covered in spots with light drifting sand, a halt was made. The eldest of the company—the water gourd hung at his girdle, and on his head was a little bag of unleavened bread—drew a square in the sand with his staff, and wrote in it a few words out of the Koran, and then the whole caravan passed over the consecrated spot. A young merchant, a child of the East, as I could tell by his eye and his figure, rode pensively forward on his white snorting steed. Was he thinking, perchance, of his fair young wife? It was only two days ago that the camel, adorned with furs and with costly shawls, had carried her, the beauteous bride, round the walls of the city, while drums and cymbals had sounded, the women sang, and festive shots, of which the bridegroom fired the greatest number, resounded round the camel; and now he was journeying with the caravan across the desert.“For many nights I followed the train. I saw them rest by the wellside among the stunted palms; they thrust the knife into the breast of the camel that had fallen, and roasted its flesh by the fire. My beams cooled the glowing sands, and showed them the black rocks, dead islands in the immense ocean of sand. No hostile tribes met them in their pathless route, no storms arose, no columns of sand whirled destruction over the journeying caravan.At home the beautiful wife prayed for her husband and her father. ‘Are they dead?’ she asked of my golden crescent; ‘Are they dead?’ she cried to my full disc. Now the desert lies behind them. This evening they sit beneath the lofty palm trees, where the crane flutters round them with its long wings, and the pelican watches them from the branches of the mimosa.The luxuriant herbage is trampled down, crushed by the feet of elephants. A troop of negroes are returning from a market in the interior of the land: the women, with copper buttons in their black hair, and decked out in clothes dyed with indigo, drive the heavily-laden oxen, on whose backs slumber the naked black children. A negro leads a young lion which he has brought, by a string. They approach the caravan; the young merchant sits pensive and motionless, thinking of his beautiful wife, dreaming, in the land of the blacks, of his white lily beyond the desert. He raises his head, and—” But at this moment a cloud passed before the Moon, and then another. I heard nothing more from him this evening.Twenty-First Evening“I saw a little girl weeping,” said the Moon; “she was weeping over the depravity of the world. She had received a most beautiful doll as a present. Oh, that was a glorious doll, so fair and delicate! She did not seem created for the sorrows of this world. But the brothers of the little girl, those great naughty boys, had set the doll high up in the branches of a tree and had run away.“The little girl could not reach up to the doll, and could not help her down, and that is why she was crying. The doll must certainly have been crying too, for she stretched out her arms among the green branches, and looked quite mournful. Yes, these are the troubles of life of which the little girl had often heard tell. Alas, poor doll! it began to grow dark already; and suppose night were to come on completely! Was she to be left sitting on the bough all night long? No, the little maid could not make up her mind to that. ‘I’ll stay with you,’ she said, although she felt anything but happy in her mind. She could almost fancy she distinctly saw little gnomes, with their high-crowned hats, sitting in the bushes; and further back in the long walk, tall spectres appeared to be dancing.They came nearer and nearer, and stretched out their hands towards the tree on which the doll sat; they laughed scornfully, and pointed at her with their fingers. Oh, how frightened the little maid was! ‘But if one has not done anything wrong,’ she thought, ‘nothing evil can harm one. I wonder if I have done anything wrong?’And she considered. ‘Oh, yes! I laughed at the poor duck with the red rag on her leg; she limped along so funnily, I could not help laughing; but it’s a sin to laugh at animals.’ And she looked up at the doll. ‘Did you laugh at the duck too?’ she asked; and it seemed as if the doll shook her head.”Twenty-Second Evening“I looked down upon Tyrol,” said the Moon, “and my beams caused the dark pines to throw long shadows upon the rocks. I looked at the pictures of St. Christopher carrying the Infant Jesus that are painted there upon the walls of the houses, colossal figures reaching from the ground to the roof. St. Florian was represented pouring water on the burning house, and the Lord hung bleeding on the great cross by the wayside. To the present generation these are old pictures, but I saw when they were put up, and marked how one followed the other.On the brow of the mountain yonder is perched, like a swallow’s nest, a lonely convent of nuns. Two of the sisters stood up in the tower tolling the bell; they were both young, and therefore their glances flew over the mountain out into the world. A travelling coach passed by below, the postillion wound his horn, and the poor nuns looked after the carriage for a moment with a mournful glance, and a tear gleamed in the eyes of the younger one. And the horn sounded faint and more faintly, and the convent bell drowned its expiring echoes.”Twenty-Third EveningHear what the Moon told me. “Some years ago, here in Copenhagen, I looked through the window of a mean little room. The father and mother slept, but the little son was not asleep. I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed move, and the child peep forth. At first I thought he was looking at the great clock, which was gaily painted in red and green. At the top sat a cuckoo, below hung the heavy leaden weights, and the pendulum with the polished disc of metal went to and fro, and said ‘tick, tick.’But no, he was not looking at the clock, but at his mother’s spinning wheel, that stood just underneath it. That was the boy’s favourite piece of furniture, but he dared not touch it, for if he meddled with it he got a rap on the knuckles. For hours together, when his mother was spinning, he would sit quietly by her side, watching the murmuring spindle and the revolving wheel, and as he sat he thought of many things.Oh, if he might only turn the wheel himself! Father and mother were asleep; he looked at them, and looked at the spinning wheel, and presently a little naked foot peered out of the bed, and then a second foot, and then two little white legs. There he stood. He looked round once more, to see if father and mother were still asleep—yes, they slept; and now he crept softly, softly, in his short little nightgown, to the spinning wheel, and began to spin. The thread flew from the wheel, and the wheel whirled faster and faster. I kissed his fair hair and his blue eyes, it was such a pretty picture.“At that moment the mother awoke. The curtain shook, she looked forth, and fancied she saw a gnome or some other kind of little spectre. ‘In Heaven’s name!’ she cried, and aroused her husband in a frightened way. He opened his eyes, rubbed them with his hands, and looked at the brisk little lad. ‘Why, that is Bertel,’ said he. And my eye quitted the poor room, for I have so much to see.At the same moment I looked at the halls of the Vatican, where the marble gods are enthroned. I shone upon the group of the Laocoon; the stone seemed to sigh. I pressed a silent kiss on the lips of the Muses, and they seemed to stir and move. But my rays lingered longest about the Nile group with the colossal god. Leaning against the Sphinx, he lies there thoughtful and meditative, as if he were thinking on the rolling centuries; and little love-gods sport with him and with the crocodiles.In the horn of plenty sat with folded arms a little tiny love-god, contemplating the great solemn river-god, a true picture of the boy at the spinning wheel—the features were exactly the same. Charming and life-like stood the little marble form, and yet the wheel of the year has turned more than a thousand times since the time when it sprang forth from the stone. Just as often as the boy in the little room turned the spinning wheel had the great wheel murmured, before the age could again call forth marble gods equal to those he afterwards formed.“Years have passed since all this happened,” the Moon went on to say. “Yesterday I looked upon a bay on the eastern coast of Denmark. Glorious woods are there, and high trees, an old knightly castle with red walls, swans floating in the ponds, and in the background appears, among orchards, a little town with a church. Many boats, the crews all furnished with torches, glided over the silent expanse—but these fires had not been kindled for catching fish, for everything had a festive look. Music sounded, a song was sung, and in one of the boats the man stood erect to whom homage was paid by the rest, a tall sturdy man, wrapped in a cloak.He had blue eyes and long white hair. I knew him, and thought of the Vatican, and of the group of the Nile, and the old marble gods. I thought of the simple little room where little Bertel sat in his night-shirt by the spinning wheel. The wheel of time has turned, and new gods have come forth from the stone. From the boats there arose a shout: ‘Hurrah, hurrah for Bertel Thorwaldsen!’”Twenty-Fourth Evening“I will now give you a picture from Frankfort,” said the Moon. “I especially noticed one building there. It was not the house in which Goethe was born, nor the old Council House, through whose grated windows peered the horns of the oxen that were roasted and given to the people when the emperors were crowned. No, it was a private house, plain in appearance, and painted green. It stood near the old Jews’ Street. It was Rothschild’s house.“I looked through the open door. The staircase was brilliantly lighted: servants carrying wax candles in massive silver candlesticks stood there, and bowed low before an old woman, who was being brought downstairs in a litter. The proprietor of the house stood bare-headed, and respectfully imprinted a kiss on the hand of the old woman. She was his mother. She nodded in a friendly manner to him and to the servants, and they carried her into the dark narrow street, into a little house, that was her dwelling. Here her children had been born, from hence the fortune of the family had arisen. If she deserted the despised street and the little house, fortune would also desert her children. That was her firm belief.”The Moon told me no more; his visit this evening was far too short. But I thought of the old woman in the narrow despised street. It would have cost her but a word, and a brilliant house would have arisen for her on the banks of the Thames—a word, and a villa would have been prepared in the Bay of Naples.“If I deserted the lowly house, where the fortunes of my sons first began to bloom, fortune would desert them!” It was a superstition, but a superstition of such a class, that he who knows the story and has seen this picture, need have only two words placed under the picture to make him understand it; and these two words are: “A mother.”Twenty-Fifth Evening“It was yesterday, in the morning twilight”—these are the words the Moon told me—“in the great city no chimney was yet smoking—and it was just at the chimneys that I was looking. Suddenly a little head emerged from one of them, and then half a body, the arms resting on the rim of the chimney-pot. ‘Ya-hip! ya-hip!’ cried a voice. It was the little chimney-sweeper, who had for the first time in his life crept through a chimney, and stuck out his head at the top. ‘Ya-hip! ya-hip’ Yes, certainly that was a very different thing to creeping about in the dark narrow chimneys! the air blew so fresh, and he could look over the whole city towards the green wood. The sun was just rising. It shone round and great, just in his face, that beamed with triumph, though it was very prettily blacked with soot.“‘The whole town can see me now,’ he exclaimed, ‘and the moon can see me now, and the sun too. Ya-hip! ya-hip!’ And he flourished his broom in triumph.”Twenty-Sixth Evening“Last night I looked down upon a town in China,” said the Moon. “My beams irradiated the naked walls that form the streets there. Now and then, certainly, a door is seen; but it is locked, for what does the Chinaman care about the outer world? Close wooden shutters covered the windows behind the walls of the houses; but through the windows of the temple a faint light glimmered. I looked in, and saw the quaint decorations within. From the floor to the ceiling pictures are painted, in the most glaring colours, and richly gilt— pictures representing the deeds of the gods here on earth. In each niche statues are placed, but they are almost entirely hidden by the coloured drapery and the banners that hang down. Before each idol (and they are all made of tin) stood a little altar of holy water, with flowers and burning wax lights on it.Above all the rest stood Fo, the chief deity, clad in a garment of yellow silk, for yellow is here the sacred colour. At the foot of the altar sat a living being, a young priest. He appeared to be praying, but in the midst of his prayer he seemed to fall into deep thought, and this must have been wrong, for his cheeks glowed and he held down his head.Poor Soui-Hong! Was he, perhaps, dreaming of working in the little flower garden behind the high street wall? And did that occupation seem more agreeable to him than watching the wax lights in the temple? Or did he wish to sit at the rich feast, wiping his mouth with silver paper between each course? Or was his sin so great that, if he dared utter it, the Celestial Empire would punish it with death? Had his thoughts ventured to fly with the ships of the barbarians, to their homes in far distant England? No, his thoughts did not fly so far, and yet they were sinful, sinful as thoughts born of young hearts, sinful here in the temple, in the presence of Fo and the other holy gods.“I know whither his thoughts had strayed. At the farther end of the city, on the flat roof paved with porcelain, on which stood the handsome vases covered with painted flowers, sat the beauteous Pu, of the little roguish eyes, of the full lips, and of the tiny feet. The tight shoe pained her, but her heart pained her still more. She lifted her graceful round arm, and her satin dress rustled.Before her stood a glass bowl containing four gold-fish. She stirred the bowl carefully with a slender lacquered stick, very slowly, for she, too, was lost in thought. Was she thinking, perchance, how the fishes were richly clothed in gold, how they lived calmly and peacefully in their crystal world, how they were regularly fed, and yet how much happier they might be if they were free? Yes, that she could well understand, the beautiful Pu. Her thoughts wandered away from her home, wandered to the temple, but not for the sake of holy things. Poor Pu! Poor Soui-hong!“Their earthly thoughts met, but my cold beam lay between the two, like the sword of the cherub.”Twenty-Seventh Evening“The air was calm,” said the Moon; “the water was transparent as the purest ether through which I was gliding, and deep below the surface I could see the strange plants that stretched up their long arms towards me like the gigantic trees of the forest. The fishes swam to and fro above their tops. High in the air a flight of wild swans were winging their way, one of which sank lower and lower, with wearied pinions, his eyes following the airy caravan, that melted farther and farther into the distance. With outspread wings he sank slowly, as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, till he touched the water. At length his head lay back between his wings, and silently he lay there, like a white lotus flower upon the quiet lake. And a gentle wind arose, and crisped the quiet surface, which gleamed like the clouds that poured along in great broad waves; and the swan raised his head, and the glowing water splashed like blue fire over his breast and back. The morning dawn illuminated the red clouds, the swan rose strengthened, and flew towards the rising sun, towards the bluish coast whither the caravan had gone; but he flew alone, with a longing in his breast. Lonely he flew over the blue swelling billows.”Twenty-Eighth Evening“I will give you another picture of Sweden,” said the Moon. “Among dark pine woods, near the melancholy banks of the Stoxen, lies the old convent church of Wreta. My rays glided through the grating into the roomy vaults, where kings sleep tranquilly in great stone coffins. On the wall, above the grave of each, is placed the emblem of earthly grandeur, a kingly crown; but it is made only of wood, painted and gilt, and is hung on a wooden peg driven into the wall. The worms have gnawed the gilded wood, the spider has spun her web from the crown down to the sand, like a mourning banner, frail and transient as the grief of mortals. How quietly they sleep!I can remember them quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their lips, that so strongly and plainly expressed joy or grief. When the steamboat winds along like a magic snail over the lakes, a stranger often comes to the church, and visits the burial vault; he asks the names of the kings, and they have a dead and forgotten sound. He glances with a smile at the worm-eaten crowns, and if he happens to be a pious, thoughtful man, something of melancholy mingles with the smile. Slumber on, ye dead ones! The Moon thinks of you, the Moon at night sends down his rays into your silent kingdom, over which hangs the crown of pine wood.”Twenty-Ninth EveningLOSE by the high-road,” said the Moon, “is an inn, and opposite to it is a great waggon-shed, whose straw roof was just being re-thatched. I looked down between the bare rafters and through the open loft into the comfortless space below. The turkey-cock slept on the beam, and the saddle rested in the empty crib. In the middle of the shed stood a travelling carriage; the proprietor was inside, fast asleep, while the horses were being watered.The coachman stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had been most comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door of the servants’ room stood open, and the bed looked as if it had been turned over and over; the candle stood on the floor, and had burnt deep down into the socket. The wind blew cold through the shed: it was nearer to the dawn than to midnight. In the wooden frame on the ground slept a wandering family of musicians. The father and mother seemed to be dreaming of the burning liquor that remained in the bottle. The little pale daughter was dreaming too, for her eyes were wet with tears. The harp stood at their heads, and the dog lay stretched at their feet.”Thirtieth EveningT was in a little provincial town,” the Moon said; “it certainly happened last year, but that has nothing to do with the matter. I saw it quite plainly. To-day I read about it in the papers, but there it was not half so clearly expressed.In the taproom of the little inn sat the bear leader, eating his supper; the bear was tied up outside, behind the wood pile—poor Bruin, who did nobody any harm, though he looked grim enough. Up in the garret three little children were playing by the light of my beams; the eldest was perhaps six years old, the youngest certainly not more than two.“And there stood the bear.” Illustration by W.M.P. Henderson, published in Andersen’s Best Fairy Tales by Alice Corbin Hendersen (1911), Rand McNally.‘Tramp, tramp’— somebody was coming upstairs: who might it be? The door was thrust open—it was Bruin, the great, shaggy Bruin! He had got tired of waiting down in the courtyard, and had found his way to the stairs. I saw it all,” said the Moon. “The children were very much frightened at first at the great shaggy animal; each of them crept into a corner, but he found them all out, and smelt at them, but did them no harm. ‘This must be a great dog,’ they said, and began to stroke him. He lay down upon the ground, the youngest boy clambered on his back, and bending down a little head of golden curls, played at hiding in the beast’s shaggy skin.Presently the eldest boy took his drum, and beat upon it till it rattled again; the bear rose upon his hind legs, and began to dance. It was a charming sight to behold. Each boy now took his gun, and the bear was obliged to have one too, and he held it up quite properly. Here was a capital playmate they had found; and they began marching—one, two; one, two.“Suddenly some one came to the door, which opened, and the mother of the children appeared. You should have seen her in her dumb terror, with her face as white as chalk, her mouth half open, and her eyes fixed in a horrified stare. But the youngest boy nodded to her in great glee, and called out in his infantile prattle, ‘We’re playing at soldiers.’ And then the bear leader came running up.”Thirty-First Evening“The wind blew stormy and cold, the clouds flew hurriedly past; only for a moment now and then did the Moon become visible. He said, “I looked down from the silent sky upon the driving clouds, and saw the great shadows chasing each other across the earth. I looked upon a prison. A closed carriage stood before it; a prisoner was to be carried away. My rays pierced through the grated window towards the wall; the prisoner was scratching a few lines upon it, as a parting token; but he did not write words, but a melody, the outpouring of his heart. The door was opened, and he was led forth, and fixed his eyes upon my round disc.Clouds passed between us, as if he were not to see his face, nor I his. He stepped into the carriage, the door was closed, the whip cracked, and the horses gallopped off into the thick forest, whither my rays were not able to follow him; but as I glanced through the grated window, my rays glided over the notes, his last farewell engraved on the prison wall—where words fail, sounds can often speak. My rays could only light up isolated notes, so the greater part of what was written there will ever remain dark to me. Was it the death-hymn he wrote there? Were these the glad notes of joy? Did he drive away to meet death, or hasten to the embraces of his beloved? The rays of the Moon do not read all that is written by mortals.”Thirty-Second Evening“I love the children,” said the Moon, “especially the quite little ones—they are so droll. Sometimes I peep into the room, between the curtain and the window frame, when they are not thinking of me. It gives me pleasure to see them dressing and undressing. First, the little round naked shoulder comes creeping out of the frock, then the arm; or I see how the stocking is drawn off, and a plump little white leg makes its appearance, and a white little foot that is fit to be kissed, and I kiss it too.“But about what I was going to tell you. This evening I looked through a window, before which no curtain was drawn, for nobody lives opposite. I saw a whole troop of little ones, all of one family, and among them was a little sister. She is only four years old, but can say her prayers as well as any of the rest. The mother sits by her bed every evening, and hears her say her prayers; and then she has a kiss, and the mother sits by the bed till the little one has gone to sleep, which generally happens as soon as ever she can close her eyes.“This evening the two elder children were a little boisterous. One of them hopped about on one leg in his long white nightgown, and the other stood on a chair surrounded by the clothes of all the children, and declared he was acting Grecian statues. The third and fourth laid the clean linen carefully in the box, for that is a thing that has to be done; and the mother sat by the bed of the youngest, and announced to all the rest that they were to be quiet, for little sister was going to say her prayers.“I looked in, over the lamp, into the little maiden’s bed, where she lay under the neat white coverlet, her hands folded demurely and her little face quite grave and serious. She was praying the Lord’s prayer aloud.But her mother interrupted her in the middle of her prayer. ‘How is it,’ she asked, ‘that when you have prayed for daily bread, you always add something I cannot understand? You must tell me what that is.’The little one lay silent, and looked at her mother in embarrassment. ‘What is it you say after our daily bread?’‘Dear mother, don’t be angry: I only said, and plenty of butter on it.’”
First StoryWHICH DESCRIBES A LOOKING-GLASS AND ITS BROKEN FRAGMENTSYou must attend to the beginning of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we now do about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the most mischievous of all sprites, for he was a real demon.One day when he was in a merry mood he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it shrink almost to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad was magnified so as to look ten times worse than it really was.The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and all the people became hideous and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or holy thought passed through the mind of any one a wrinkle was seen in the mirror, and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention.All who went to the demon’s school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the first time, see what the world and its inhabitants were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror.They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it. At last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces.But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. And when one of these tiny atoms flew into a person’s eye it stuck there, unknown to himself, and from that moment he viewed everything the wrong way, and could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror.Some few persons even got a splinter of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was terrible, for their hearts became cold and hard like a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as windowpanes; it would have been a sad thing indeed to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles, and this was dreadful, for those who wore them could see nothing either rightly or justly. At all of this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook, to see the mischief he had done. There are still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them.Second StoryA LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRLIn a large town full of houses and people there is not room for everybody to have even a little garden. Most people are obliged to content themselves with a few flowers in flowerpots.In one of these large towns lived two poor children who had a garden somewhat larger and better than a few flowerpots. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other almost as much as if they had been. Their parents lived opposite each other in two garrets where the roofs of neighboring houses nearly joined each other, and the water pipe ran between them. In each roof was a little window, so that any one could step across the gutter from one window to the other.The parents of each of these children had a large wooden box in which they cultivated kitchen vegetables for their own use, and in each box was a little rosebush which grew luxuriantly.After a while the parents decided to place these two boxes across the water pipe, so that they reached from one window to the other and looked like two banks of flowers. Sweet peas drooped over the boxes, and the rosebushes shot forth long branches, which were trained about the windows and clustered together almost like a triumphal arch of leaves and flowers.The boxes were very high, and the children knew they must not climb upon them without permission; but they often had leave to step out and sit upon their little stools under the rosebushes or play quietly together.In winter all this pleasure came to an end, for the windows were sometimes quite frozen over. But they would warm copper pennies on the stove and hold the warm pennies against the frozen pane; then there would soon be a little round hole through which they could peep, and the soft, bright eyes of the little boy and girl would sparkle through the hole at each window as they looked at each other. Their names were Kay and Gerda. In summer they could be together with one jump from the window, but in winter they had to go up and down the long staircase and out through the snow before they could meet.“See! there are the white bees swarming,” said Kay’s old grandmother one day when it was snowing.“Have they a queen bee?” asked the little boy, for he knew that the real bees always had a queen.“To be sure they have,” said the grandmother. “She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all and never remains on the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town and breathes with her frosty breath upon the windows; then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful forms that look like flowers and castles.”“Yes, I have seen them,” said both the children; and they knew it must be true.“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little girl.“Only let her come,” said the boy. “I’ll put her on the warm stove, and then she’ll melt.”The grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.That same evening when little Kay was at home, half undressed, he climbed upon a chair by the window and peeped out through the little round hole. A few flakes of snow were falling, and one of them, rather larger than the rest, alighted on the edge of one of the flower boxes. Strange to say, this snowflake grew larger and larger till at last it took the form of a woman dressed in garments of white gauze, which looked like millions of starry snowflakes linked together. She was fair and beautiful, but made of ice—glittering, dazzling ice. Still, she was alive, and her eyes sparkled like bright stars, though there was neither peace nor rest in them. She nodded toward the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and sprang from the chair, and at the same moment it seemed as if a large bird flew by the window.On the following day there was a clear frost, and very soon came the spring. The sun shone; the young green leaves burst forth; the swallows built their nests; windows were opened, and the children sat once more in the garden on the roof, high above all the other rooms.How beautifully the roses blossomed this summer! The little girl had learned a hymn in which roses were spoken of. She thought of their own roses, and she sang the hymn to the little boy, and he sang, too:“Roses bloom and fade away;The Christ-child shall abide alway.Blessed are we his face to seeAnd ever little children be.”Then the little ones held each other by the hand, and kissed the roses, and looked at the bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Christ-child were really there. Those were glorious summer days. How beautiful and fresh it was out among the rosebushes, which seemed as if they would never leave off blooming.One day Kay and Gerda sat looking at a book of pictures of animals and birds. Just then, as the clock in the church tower struck twelve, Kay said, “Oh, something has struck my heart!” and soon after, “There is certainly something in my eye.”The little girl put her arm round his neck and looked into his eye, but she could see nothing.“I believe it is gone,” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass,—that magic mirror of which we have spoken,—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small splinter in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last. “It makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, fie!” he cried suddenly; “that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all, they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand.” And then he kicked the boxes with his foot and pulled off the two roses.“Why, Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then when he saw how grieved she was he tore off another rose and jumped through his own window, away from sweet little Gerda.When afterward she brought out the picture book he said, “It is only fit for babies in long clothes,” and when grandmother told stories he would interrupt her with “but”; or sometimes when he could manage it he would get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly to make the people laugh. By and by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye and the coldness in his heart that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart.His games too were quite different; they were not so childlike. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning glass, then, holding out the skirt of his blue coat, let the snowflakes fall upon it.“Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he, and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star.“Is it not clever,” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers? There is not a single fault in it. The snowflakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.”Soon after, Kay made his appearance in large, thick gloves and with his sledge at his back. He called upstairs to Gerda, “I’ve got leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went.In the great square the boldest among the boys would often tie their sledges to the wagons of the country people and so get a ride. This was capital. But while they were all amusing themselves, and Kay with them, a great sledge came by; it was painted white, and in it sat some one wrapped in a rough white fur and wearing a white cap. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay fastened his own little sledge to it, so that when it went away he went with it. It went faster and faster right through the next street, and the person who drove turned round and nodded pleasantly to Kay as if they were well acquainted with each other; but whenever Kay wished to loosen his little sledge the driver turned and nodded as if to signify that he was to stay, so Kay sat still, and they drove out through the town gate.Then the snow began to fall so heavily that the little boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him, but still they drove on. He suddenly loosened the cord so that the large sledge might go on without him, but it was of no use; his little carriage held fast, and away they went like the wind. Then he called out loudly, but nobody heard him, while the snow beat upon him, and the sledge flew onward. Every now and then it gave a jump, as if they were going over hedges and ditches. The boy was frightened and tried to say a prayer, but he could remember nothing but the multiplication table.The snowflakes became larger and larger, till they appeared like great white birds. All at once they sprang on one side, the great sledge stopped, and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap, which were made entirely of snow, fell off, and he saw a lady, tall and white; it was the Snow Queen.“We have driven well,” said she; “but why do you tremble so? Here, creep into my warm fur.” Then she seated him beside her in the sledge, and as she wrapped the fur about him, he felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.“Are you still cold?” she asked, as she kissed him on the forehead. The kiss was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart, which was almost a lump of ice already. He felt as if he were going to die, but only for a moment—he soon seemed quite well and did not notice the cold all around him.“My sledge! Don’t forget my sledge,” was his first thought, and then he looked and saw that it was bound fast to one of the white birds which flew behind him. The Snow Queen kissed little Kay again, and by this time he had forgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home.“Now you must have no more kisses,” she said, “or I should kiss you to death.”Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more lovely face; she did not now seem to be made of ice as when he had seen her through his window and she had nodded to him.In his eyes she was perfect, and he did not feel at all afraid. He told her he could do mental arithmetic as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. She smiled, and it occurred to him that she thought he did not yet know so very much.He looked around the vast expanse as she flew higher and higher with him upon a black cloud, while the storm blew and howled as if it were singing songs of olden time. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land; below them roared the wild wind; wolves howled, and the snow crackled; over them flew the black, screaming crows, and above all shone the moon, clear and bright—and so Kay passed through the long, long winter’s night, and by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.Third StoryTHE ENCHANTED FLOWER GARDENBut how fared little Gerda in Kay’s absence?What had become of him no one knew, nor could any one give the slightest information, excepting the boys, who said that he had tied his sledge to another very large one, which had driven through the street and out at the town gate. No one knew where it went. Many tears were shed for him, and little Gerda wept bitterly for a long time. She said she knew he must be dead, that he was drowned in the river which flowed close by the school. The long winter days were very dreary. But at last spring came with warm sunshine.“Kay is dead and gone,” said little Gerda.“I don’t believe it,” said the sunshine.“He is dead and gone,” she said to the sparrows.“We don’t believe it,” they replied, and at last little Gerda began to doubt it herself.“I will put on my new red shoes,” she said one morning, “those that Kay has never seen, and then I will go down to the river and ask for him.”It was quite early when she kissed her old grandmother, who was still asleep; then she put on her red shoes and went, quite alone, out of the town gate, toward the river.“Is it true that you have taken my little playmate away from me?” she said to the river. “I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back to me.”And it seemed as if the waves nodded to her in a strange manner. Then she took off her red shoes, which she liked better than anything else, and threw them both into the river, but they fell near the bank, and the little waves carried them back to land just as if the river would not take from her what she loved best, because it could not give her back little Kay.But she thought the shoes had not been thrown out far enough. Then she crept into a boat that lay among the reeds, and threw the shoes again from the farther end of the boat into the water; but it was not fastened, and her movement sent it gliding away from the land. When she saw this she hastened to reach the end of the boat, but before she could do so it was more than a yard from the bank and drifting away faster than ever.Little Gerda was very much frightened. She began to cry, but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land, but they flew along by the shore and sang as if to comfort her: “Here we are! Here we are!”The boat floated with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite still with only her stockings on her feet; the red shoes floated after her, but she could not reach them because the boat kept so much in advance.The banks on either side of the river were very pretty. There were beautiful flowers, old trees, sloping fields in which cows and sheep were grazing, but not a human being to be seen.“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” thought Gerda, and then she became more cheerful, and raised her head and looked at the beautiful green banks; and so the boat sailed on for hours. At length she came to a large cherry orchard, in which stood a small house with strange red and blue windows. It had also a thatched roof, and outside were two wooden soldiers that presented arms to her as she sailed past. Gerda called out to them, for she thought they were alive; but of course they did not answer, and as the boat drifted nearer to the shore she saw what they really were.Then Gerda called still louder, and there came a very old woman out of the house, leaning on a crutch. She wore a large hat to shade her from the sun, and on it were painted all sorts of pretty flowers.“You poor little child,” said the old woman, “how did you manage to come this long, long distance into the wide world on such a rapid, rolling stream?” And then the old woman walked into the water, seized the boat with her crutch, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda was glad to feel herself again on dry ground, although she was rather afraid of the strange old woman.“Come and tell me who you are,” said she, “and how you came here.”Then Gerda told her everything, while the old woman shook her head and said, “Hem-hem”; and when Gerda had finished she asked the old woman if she had not seen little Kay. She told her he had not passed that way, but he very likely would come. She told Gerda not to be sorrowful, but to taste the cherries and look at the flowers; they were better than any picture book, for each of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda by the hand, and led her into the little house, and closed the door. The windows were very high, and as the panes were red, blue, and yellow, the daylight shone through them in all sorts of singular colors. On the table stood some beautiful cherries, and Gerda had permission to eat as many as she would. While she was eating them the old woman combed out her long flaxen ringlets with a golden comb, and the glossy curls hung down on each side of the little round, pleasant face, which looked fresh and blooming as a rose.“I have long been wishing for a dear little maiden like you,” said the old woman, “and now you must stay with me and see how happily we shall live together.” And while she went on combing little Gerda’s hair the child thought less and less about her adopted brother Kay, for the old woman was an enchantress, although she was not a wicked witch; she conjured only a little for her own amusement, and, now, because she wanted to keep Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden and stretched out her crutch toward all the rose trees, beautiful though they were, and they immediately sank into the dark earth, so that no one could tell where they had once stood. The old woman was afraid that if little Gerda saw roses, she would think of those at home and then remember little Kay and run away.Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. How fragrant and beautiful it was! Every flower that could be thought of, for every season of the year, was here in full bloom; no picture book could have more beautiful colors. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees; then she slept in an elegant bed, with red silk pillows embroidered with colored violets, and she dreamed as pleasantly as a queen on her wedding day.The next day, and for many days after, Gerda played with the flowers in the warm sunshine. She knew every flower, and yet, although there were so many of them, it seemed as if one were missing, but what it was she could not tell. One day, however, as she sat looking at the old woman’s hat with the painted flowers on it, she saw that the prettiest of them all was a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made all the roses sink into the earth. But it is difficult to keep the thoughts together in everything, and one little mistake upsets all our arrangements.“What! are there no roses here?” cried Gerda, and she ran out into the garden and examined all the beds, and searched and searched. There was not one to be found. Then she sat down and wept, and her tears fell just on the place where one of the rose trees had sunk down. The warm tears moistened the earth, and the rose tree sprouted up at once, as blooming as when it had sunk; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the roses, and thought of the beautiful roses at home, and, with them, of little Kay.“Oh, how I have been detained!” said the little maiden. “I wanted to seek for little Kay. Do you know where he is?” she asked the roses; “do you think he is dead?”And the roses answered: “No, he is not dead. We have been in the ground, where all the dead lie, but Kay is not there.”“Thank you,” said little Gerda, and then she went to the other flowers and looked into their little cups and asked, “Do you know where little Kay is?” But each flower as it stood in the sunshine dreamed only of its own little fairy tale or history. Not one knew anything of Kay. Gerda heard many stories from the flowers, as she asked them one after another about him.And then she ran to the other end of the garden. The door was fastened, but she pressed against the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door sprang open, and little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide world. She looked back three times, but no one seemed to be following her. At last she could run no longer, so she sat down to rest on a great stone, and when she looked around she saw that the summer was over and autumn very far advanced. She had known nothing of this in the beautiful garden where the sun shone and the flowers grew all the year round.“Oh, how I have wasted my time!” said little Gerda. “It is autumn; I must not rest any longer,” and she rose to go on. But her little feet were wounded and sore, and everything around her looked cold and bleak. The long willow leaves were quite yellow, the dewdrops fell like water, leaf after leaf dropped from the trees; the sloe thorn alone still bore fruit, but the sloes were sour and set the teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and weary the whole world appeared!Fourth StoryTHE PRINCE AND PRINCESSGerda was obliged to rest again, and just opposite the place where she sat she saw a great crow come hopping toward her across the snow. He stood looking at her for some time, and then he wagged his head and said, “Caw, caw, good day, good day.” He pronounced the words as plainly as he could, because he meant to be kind to the little girl, and then he asked her where she was going all alone in the wide world.The word “alone” Gerda understood very well and felt how much it expressed. So she told the crow the whole story of her life and adventures and asked him if he had seen little Kay.The crow nodded his head very gravely and said, “Perhaps I have—it may be.”“No! Do you really think you have?” cried little Gerda, and she kissed the crow and hugged him almost to death, with joy.“Gently, gently,” said the crow. “I believe I know. I think it may be little Kay; but he has certainly forgotten you by this time, for the princess.”“Does he live with a princess?” asked Gerda.“Yes, listen,” replied the crow; “but it is so difficult to speak your language. If you understand the crows’ language, then I can explain it better. Do you?”“No, I have never learned it,” said Gerda, “but my grandmother understands it, and used to speak it to me. I wish I had learned it.”“It does not matter,” answered the crow. “I will explain as well as I can, although it will be very badly done”; and he told her what he had heard.“In this kingdom where we now are,” said he, “there lives a princess who is so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the world—and forgotten them too, although she is so clever.“A short time ago, as she was sitting on her throne, which people say is not such an agreeable seat as is often supposed, she began to sing a song which commences with these words:Why should I not be married?‘Why not, indeed?’ said she, and so she determined to marry if she could find a husband who knew what to say when he was spoken to, and not one who could only look grand, for that was so tiresome. She assembled all her court ladies at the beat of the drum, and when they heard of her intentions they were very much pleased.“‘We are so glad to hear of it,’ said they. ‘We were talking about it ourselves the other day.’“You may believe that every word I tell you is true,” said the crow, “for I have a tame sweetheart who hops freely about the palace, and she told me all this.”Of course his sweetheart was a crow, for “birds of a feather flock together,” and one crow always chooses another crow.“Newspapers were published immediately with a border of hearts and the initials of the princess among them. They gave notice that every young man who was handsome was free to visit the castle and speak with the princess, and those who could reply loud enough to be heard when spoken to were to make themselves quite at home at the palace, and the one who spoke best would be chosen as a husband for the princess.“Yes, yes, you may believe me. It is all as true as I sit here,” said the crow.“The people came in crowds. There was a great deal of crushing and running about, but no one succeeded either on the first or the second day. They could all speak very well while they were outside in the streets, but when they entered the palace gates and saw the guards in silver uniforms and the footmen in their golden livery on the staircase and the great halls lighted up, they became quite confused. And when they stood before the throne on which the princess sat they could do nothing but repeat the last words she had said, and she had no particular wish to hear her own words over again. It was just as if they had all taken something to make them sleepy while they were in the palace, for they did not recover themselves nor speak till they got back again into the street. There was a long procession of them, reaching from the town gate to the palace.“I went myself to see them,” said the crow. “They were hungry and thirsty, for at the palace they did not even get a glass of water. Some of the wisest had taken a few slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share it with their neighbors; they thought if the others went in to the princess looking hungry, there would be a better chance for themselves.”“But Kay! tell me about little Kay!” said Gerda. “Was he among the crowd?”“Stop a bit; we are just coming to him. It was on the third day that there came marching cheerfully along to the palace a little personage without horses or carriage, his eyes sparkling like yours. He had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very poor.”“That was Kay,” said Gerda, joyfully. “Oh, then I have found him!” and she clapped her hands.“He had a little knapsack on his back,” added the crow.“No, it must have been his sledge,” said Gerda, “for he went away with it.”“It may have been so,” said the crow; “I did not look at it very closely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that he passed through the palace gates, saw the guards in their silver uniform and the servants in their liveries of gold on the stairs, but was not in the least embarrassed.“‘It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs,’ he said. ‘I prefer to go in.’“The rooms were blazing with light; councilors and ambassadors walked about with bare feet, carrying golden vessels; it was enough to make any one feel serious. His boots creaked loudly as he walked, and yet he was not at all uneasy.”“It must be Kay,” said Gerda; “I know he had new boots on. I heard them creak in grandmother’s room.”“They really did creak,” said the crow, “yet he went boldly up to the princess herself, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning wheel. And all the ladies of the court were present with their maids and all the cavaliers with their servants, and each of the maids had another maid to wait upon her, and the cavaliers’ servants had their own servants as well as each a page. They all stood in circles round the princess, and the nearer they stood to the door the prouder they looked. The servants’ pages, who always wore slippers, could hardly be looked at, they held themselves up so proudly by the door.”“It must be quite awful,” said little Gerda; “but did Kay win the princess?”“If I had not been a crow,” said he, “I would have married her myself, although I am engaged. He spoke as well as I do when I speak the crows’ language. I heard this from my tame sweetheart. He was quite free and agreeable and said he had not come to woo the princess, but to hear her wisdom. And he was as pleased with her as she was with him.”“Oh, certainly that was Kay,” said Gerda; “he was so clever; he could work mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh, will you take me to the palace?”“It is very easy to ask that,” replied the crow, “but how are we to manage it? However, I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart and ask her advice, for, I must tell you, it will be very difficult to gain permission for a little girl like you to enter the palace.”“Oh, yes, but I shall gain permission easily,” said Gerda, “for when Kay hears that I am here he will come out and fetch me in immediately.”“Wait for me here by the palings,” said the crow, wagging his head as he flew away.It was late in the evening before the crow returned. “Caw, caw!” he said; “she sends you greeting, and here is a little roll which she took from the kitchen for you. There is plenty of bread there, and she thinks you must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the palace by the front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the servants in gold livery would not allow it. But do not cry; we will manage to get you in. My sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads to the sleeping apartments, and she knows where to find the key.”Then they went into the garden, through the great avenue, where the leaves were falling one after another, and they could see the lights in the palace being put out in the same manner. And the crow led little Gerda to a back door which stood ajar. Oh! how her heart beat with anxiety and longing; it was as if she were going to do something wrong, and yet she only wanted to know where little Kay was.“It must be he,” she thought, “with those clear eyes and that long hair.”She could fancy she saw him smiling at her as he used to at home when they sat among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her, and to hear what a long distance she had come for his sake, and to know how sorry they had all been at home because he did not come back. Oh, what joy and yet what fear she felt!They were now on the stairs, and in a small closet at the top a lamp was burning. In the middle of the floor stood the tame crow, turning her head from side to side and gazing at Gerda, who curtsied as her grandmother had taught her to do.“My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you, my little lady,” said the tame crow. “Your story is very touching. If you will take the lamp, I will walk before you. We will go straight along this way; then we shall meet no one.”“I feel as if somebody were behind us,” said Gerda, as something rushed by her like a shadow on the wall; and then it seemed to her that horses with flying manes and thin legs, hunters, ladies and gentlemen on horseback, glided by her like shadows.“They are only dreams,” said the crow; “they are coming to carry the thoughts of the great people out hunting. All the better, for if their thoughts are out hunting, we shall be able to look at them in their beds more safely. I hope that when you rise to honor and favor you will show a grateful heart.”“You may be quite sure of that,” said the crow from the forest.They now came into the first hall, the walls of which were hung with rose-colored satin embroidered with artificial flowers. Here the dreams again flitted by them, but so quickly that Gerda could not distinguish the royal persons. Each hall appeared more splendid than the last. It was enough to bewilder one. At length they reached a bedroom. The ceiling was like a great palm tree, with glass leaves of the most costly crystal, and over the center of the floor two beds, each resembling a lily, hung from a stem of gold. One, in which the princess lay, was white; the other was red. And in this Gerda had to seek for little Kay.She pushed one of the red leaves aside and saw a little brown neck. Oh, that must be Kay! She called his name loudly and held the lamp over him. The dreams rushed back into the room on horseback. He woke and turned his head round—it was not little Kay! The prince was only like him; still he was young and pretty. Out of her white-lily bed peeped the princess, and asked what was the matter. Little Gerda wept and told her story, and all that the crows had done to help her.“You poor child,” said the prince and princess; then they praised the crows, and said they were not angry with them for what they had done, but that it must not happen again, and that this time they should be rewarded.“Would you like to have your freedom?” asked the princess, “or would you prefer to be raised to the position of court crows, with all that is left in the kitchen for yourselves?”Then both the crows bowed and begged to have a fixed appointment; for they thought of their old age, and it would be so comfortable, they said, to feel that they had made provision for it.And then the prince got out of his bed and gave it up to Gerda—he could not do more—and she lay down. She folded her little hands and thought, “How good everybody is to me, both men and animals”; then she closed her eyes and fell into a sweet sleep. All the dreams came flying back again to her, looking like angels now, and one of them drew a little sledge, on which sat Kay, who nodded to her. But all this was only a dream. It vanished as soon as she awoke.The following day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet and invited to stay at the palace for a few days and enjoy herself; but she only begged for a pair of boots and a little carriage and a horse to draw it, so that she might go out into the wide world to seek for Kay.And she obtained not only boots but a muff, and was neatly dressed; and when she was ready to go, there at the door she found a coach made of pure gold with the coat of arms of the prince and princess shining upon it like a star, and the coachman, footman, and outriders all wearing golden crowns upon their heads. The prince and princess themselves helped her into the coach and wished her success.The forest crow, who was now married, accompanied her for the first three miles; he sat by Gerda’s side, as he could not bear riding backwards. The tame crow stood in the doorway flapping her wings. She could not go with them, because she had been suffering from headache ever since the new appointment, no doubt from overeating. The coach was well stored with sweet cakes, and under the seat were fruit and gingerbread nuts.“Farewell, farewell,” cried the prince and princess, and little Gerda wept, and the crow wept; and then, after a few miles, the crow also said farewell, and this parting was even more sad. However he flew to a tree and stood flapping his black wings as long as he could see the coach, which glittered like a sunbeam.Fifth StoryTHE LITTLE ROBBER GIRLThe coach drove on through a thick forest, where it lighted up the way like a torch and dazzled the eyes of some robbers, who could not bear to let it pass them unmolested.“It is gold! it is gold!” cried they, rushing forward and seizing the horses. Then they struck dead the little jockeys, the coachman, and the footman, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.“She is plump and pretty. She has been fed with the kernels of nuts,” said the old robber woman, who had a long beard, and eyebrows that hung over her eyes. “She is as good as a fatted lamb; how nice she will taste!” and as she said this she drew forth a shining knife, that glittered horribly. “Oh!” screamed the old woman at the same moment, for her own daughter, who held her back, had bitten her in the ear. “You naughty girl,” said the mother, and now she had not time to kill Gerda.“She shall play with me,” said the little robber girl. “She shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed.” And then she bit her mother again, and all the robbers laughed.“I will have a ride in the coach,” said the little robber girl, and she would have her own way, for she was self-willed and obstinate.She and Gerda seated themselves in the coach and drove away over stumps and stones, into the depths of the forest. The little robber girl was about the same size as Gerda, but stronger; she had broader shoulders and a darker skin; her eyes were quite black, and she had a mournful look. She clasped little Gerda round the waist and said:“They shall not kill you as long as you don’t make me vexed with you. I suppose you are a princess.”“No,” said Gerda; and then she told her all her history and how fond she was of little Kay.The robber girl looked earnestly at her, nodded her head slightly, and said, “They shan’t kill you even if I do get angry with you, for I will do it myself.” And then she wiped Gerda’s eyes and put her own hands into the beautiful muff, which was so soft and warm.The coach stopped in the courtyard of a robber’s castle, the walls of which were full of cracks from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew in and out of the holes and crevices, while great bulldogs, each of which looked as if it could swallow a man, were jumping about; but they were not allowed to bark.In the large old smoky hall a bright fire was burning on the stone floor. There was no chimney, so the smoke went up to the ceiling and found a way out for itself. Soup was boiling in a large cauldron, and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.“You shall sleep with me and all my little animals to-night,” said the robber girl after they had had something to eat and drink. So she took Gerda to a corner of the hall where some straw and carpets were laid down. Above them, on laths and perches, were more than a hundred pigeons that all seemed to be asleep, although they moved slightly when the two little girls came near them. “These all belong to me,” said the robber girl, and she seized the nearest to her, held it by the feet, and shook it till it flapped its wings. “Kiss it,” cried she, flapping it in Gerda’s face.“There sit the wood pigeons,” continued she, pointing to a number of laths and a cage which had been fixed into the walls, near one of the openings. “Both rascals would fly away directly, if they were not closely locked up. And here is my old sweetheart ‘Ba,'” and she dragged out a reindeer by the horn; he wore a bright copper ring round his neck and was tethered to the spot. “We are obliged to hold him tight too, else he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck every evening with my sharp knife, which frightens him very much.” And the robber girl drew a long knife from a chink in the wall and let it slide gently over the reindeer’s neck. The poor animal began to kick, and the little robber girl laughed and pulled down Gerda into bed with her.“Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?” asked Gerda, looking at it in great fright.“I always sleep with the knife by me,” said the robber girl. “No one knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay, and why you went out into the world.”Then Gerda repeated her story over again, while the wood pigeons in the cage over her cooed, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl put one arm across Gerda’s neck, and held the knife in the other, and was soon fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she knew not whether she was to live or to die. The robbers sat round the fire, singing and drinking. It was a terrible sight for a little girl to witness.Then the wood pigeons said: “Coo, coo, we have seen little Kay. A white fowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, which drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew upon us, and all the young ones died, excepting us two. Coo, coo.”“What are you saying up there?” cried Gerda. “Where was the Snow Queen going? Do you know anything about it?”“She was most likely traveling to Lapland, where there is always snow and ice. Ask the reindeer that is fastened up there with a rope.”“Yes, there is always snow and ice,” said the reindeer, “and it is a glorious place; you can leap and run about freely on the sparkling icy plains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her strong castle is at the North Pole, on an island called Spitzbergen.”“O Kay, little Kay!” sighed Gerda.“Lie still,” said the robber girl, “or you shall feel my knife.”In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said, and the little robber girl looked quite serious, and nodded her head and said: “That is all talk, that is all talk. Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the reindeer.“Who should know better than I do?” said the animal, while his eyes sparkled. “I was born and brought up there and used to run about the snow-covered plains.”“Now listen,” said the robber girl; “all our men are gone away; only mother is here, and here she will stay; but at noon she always drinks out of a great bottle, and afterwards sleeps for a little while; and then I’ll do something for you.” She jumped out of bed, clasped her mother round the neck, and pulled her by the beard, crying, “My own little nanny goat, good morning!” And her mother pinched her nose till it was quite red; yet she did it all for love.When the mother had gone to sleep the little robber maiden went to the reindeer and said: “I should like very much to tickle your neck a few times more with my knife, for it makes you look so funny, but never mind—I will untie your cord and set you free, so that you may run away to Lapland; but you must make good use of your legs and carry this little maiden to the castle of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You have heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening.”The reindeer jumped for joy, and the little robber girl lifted Gerda on his back and had the forethought to tie her on and even to give her her own little cushion to sit upon.“Here are your fur boots for you,” said she, “for it will be very cold; but I must keep the muff, it is so pretty. However, you shall not be frozen for the want of it; here are my mother’s large warm mittens; they will reach up to your elbows. Let me put them on. There, now your hands look just like my mother’s.”But Gerda wept for joy.“I don’t like to see you fret,” said the little robber girl. “You ought to look quite happy now. And here are two loaves and a ham, so that you need not starve.”These were fastened upon the reindeer, and then the little robber maiden opened the door, coaxed in all the great dogs, cut the string with which the reindeer was fastened, with her sharp knife, and said, “Now run, but mind you take good care of the little girl.” And Gerda stretched out her hand, with the great mitten on it, toward the little robber girl and said “Farewell,” and away flew the reindeer over stumps and stones, through the great forest, over marshes and plains, as quickly as he could. The wolves howled and the ravens screamed, while up in the sky quivered red lights like flames of fire. “There are my old northern lights,” said the reindeer; “see how they flash!” And he ran on day and night still faster and faster, but the loaves and the ham were all eaten by the time they reached Lapland.Sixth StoryTHE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMANThey stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking. The roof sloped nearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had to creep in on their hands and knees when they went in and out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman who was dressing fish by the light of a train-oil lamp.The reindeer told her all about Gerda’s story after having first told his own, which seemed to him the most important. But Gerda was so pinched with the cold that she could not speak.“Oh, you poor things,” said the Lapland woman, “you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried stockfish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there. She can give you better information than I can.”So when Gerda was warmed and had taken something to eat and drink, the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish and told Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the back of the reindeer, and he sprang high into the air and set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went the beautiful blue northern lights the whole night long.And at length they reached Finland and knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman’s hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in, but it was so terribly hot inside that the woman wore scarcely any clothes. She was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little Gerda’s dress and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head and read what was written on the dried fish. After she had read it three times she knew it by heart, so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good to eat, and she never wasted anything.The reindeer told his own story first and then little Gerda’s, and the Finlander twinkled with her clever eyes, but said nothing.“You are so clever,” said the reindeer; “I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?”“The power of twelve men!” said the Finland woman. “That would be of very little use.” But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a large skin on which were inscribed wonderful characters, and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead.But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such tender, tearful eyes, that her own eyes began to twinkle again. She drew the reindeer into a corner and whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head: “Little Kay is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking that he believes it is the finest place in the world; and this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart and a little splinter of glass in his eye. These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.”“But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this power?”“I can give her no greater power than she has already,” said the woman; “don’t you see how strong that is? how men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has gotten through the world, barefooted as she is? She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen and remove the glass fragments from little Kay, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen’s garden begins. You can carry the little girl so far, and set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with red berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you can.” Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and he ran away with her as quickly as he could.“Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens,” cried little Gerda, as soon as she felt the cutting cold; but the reindeer dared not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great bright tears trickled over the animal’s cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could.There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forward as quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snowflakes came round her. They did not, however, fall from the sky, which was quite clear and glittered with the northern lights. The snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came to her the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through the burning glass. But these were really larger and much more terrible, for they were alive and were the guards of the Snow Queen and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snowflakes.Little Gerda repeated the Lord’s Prayer, and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam, as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase as she continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels, who grew larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and more, and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snowflakes so that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet, so that she felt the cold less as she hastened on to the Snow Queen’s castle.But now we must see what Kay is doing. In truth he thought not of little Gerda, and least of all that she could be standing at the front of the palace.Seventh StoryOF THE PALACE OF THE SNOW QUEEN AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LASTThe walls of the palace were formed of drifted snow, and the windows and doors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred rooms in it, all as if they had been formed of snow blown together. The largest of them extended for several miles. They were all lighted up by the vivid light of the aurora, and were so large and empty, so icy cold and glittering!There were no amusements here; not even a little bear’s ball, when the storm might have been the music, and the bears could have danced on their hind legs and shown their good manners. There were no pleasant games of snapdragon, or touch, nor even a gossip over the tea table for the young-lady foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen.The flickering flames of the northern lights could be plainly seen, whether they rose high or low in the heavens, from every part of the castle. In the midst of this empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen lake, broken on its surface into a thousand forms; each piece resembled another, because each was in itself perfect as a work of art, and in the center of this lake sat the Snow Queen when she was at home. She called the lake “The Mirror of Reason,” and said that it was the best, and indeed the only one, in the world.Little Kay was quite blue with cold,—indeed, almost black,—but he did not feel it; for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and his heart was already a lump of ice. He dragged some sharp, flat pieces of ice to and fro and placed them together in all kinds of positions, as if he wished to make something out of them—just as we try to form various figures with little tablets of wood, which we call a “Chinese puzzle.” Kay’s figures were very artistic; it was the icy game of reason at which he played, and in his eyes the figures were very remarkable and of the highest importance; this opinion was owing to the splinter of glass still sticking in his eye. He composed many complete figures, forming different words, but there was one word he never could manage to form, although he wished it very much. It was the word “Eternity.”The Snow Queen had said to him, “When you can find out this, you shall be your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates.” But he could not accomplish it.“Now I must hasten away to warmer countries,” said the Snow Queen. “I will go and look into the black craters of the tops of the burning mountains, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called. I shall make them look white, which will be good for them and for the lemons and the grapes.” And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving little Kay quite alone in the great hall which was so many miles in length. He sat and looked at his pieces of ice and was thinking so deeply and sat so still that any one might have supposed he was frozen.Just at this moment it happened that little Gerda came through the great door of the castle. Cutting winds were raging around her, but she offered up a prayer, and the winds sank down as if they were going to sleep. On she went till she came to the large, empty hall and caught sight of Kay. She knew him directly; she flew to him and threw her arms around his neck and held him fast while she exclaimed, “Kay, dear little Kay, I have found you at last!”But he sat quite still, stiff and cold.Then little Gerda wept hot tears, which fell on his breast, and penetrated into his heart, and thawed the lump of ice, and washed away the little piece of glass which had stuck there. Then he looked at her, and she sang:“Roses bloom and fade away,But we the Christ-child see alway.”Then Kay burst into tears. He wept so that the splinter of glass swam out of his eye. Then he recognized Gerda and said joyfully, “Gerda, dear little Gerda, where have you been all this time, and where have I been?” And he looked all around him and said, “How cold it is, and how large and empty it all looks,” and he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy.It was so pleasing to see them that even the pieces of ice danced, and when they were tired and went to lie down they formed themselves into the letters of the word which the Snow Queen had said he must find out before he could be his own master and have the whole world and a pair of new skates.Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming; and she kissed his eyes till they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he became quite healthy and cheerful. The Snow Queen might come home now when she pleased, for there stood his certainty of freedom, in the word she wanted, written in shining letters of ice.Then they took each other by the hand and went forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother and of the roses on the roof, and as they went on the winds were at rest, and the sun burst forth. When they arrived at the bush with red berries, there stood the reindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer with him, whose udders were full, and the children drank her warm milk and kissed her on the mouth.They carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot room and had directions about their journey home. Next they went to the Lapland woman, who had made some new clothes for them and put their sleighs in order. Both the reindeer ran by their side and followed them as far as the boundaries of the country, where the first green leaves were budding. And here they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman, and all said farewell.Then birds began to twitter, and the forest too was full of green young leaves, and out of it came a beautiful horse, which Gerda remembered, for it was one which had drawn the golden coach. A young girl was riding upon it, with a shining red cap on her head and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber maiden, who had got tired of staying at home; she was going first to the north, and if that did not suit her, she meant to try some other part of the world. She knew Gerda directly, and Gerda remembered her; it was a joyful meeting.“You are a fine fellow to go gadding about in this way,” said she to little Kay. “I should like to know whether you deserve that any one should go to the end of the world to find you.”But Gerda patted her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess.“They are gone to foreign countries,” said the robber girl.“And the crow?” asked Gerda.“Oh, the crow is dead,” she replied. “His tame sweetheart is now a widow and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She mourns very pitifully, but it is all stuff. But now tell me how you managed to get him back.”Then Gerda and Kay told her all about it.“Snip, snap, snurre! it’s all right at last,” said the robber girl.She took both their hands and promised that if ever she should pass through the town, she would call and pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide world.But Gerda and Kay went hand in hand toward home, and as they advanced, spring appeared more lovely with its green verdure and its beautiful flowers. Very soon they recognized the large town where they lived, and the tall steeples of the churches in which the sweet bells were ringing a merry peal, as they entered it and found their way to their grandmother’s door.They went upstairs into the little room, where all looked just as it used to do. The old clock was going “Tick, tick,” and the hands pointed to the time of day, but as they passed through the door into the room they perceived that they were both grown up and become a man and woman. The roses out on the roof were in full bloom and peeped in at the window, and there stood the little chairs on which they had sat when children, and Kay and Gerda seated themselves each on their own chair and held each other by the hand, while the cold, empty grandeur of the Snow Queen’s palace vanished from their memories like a painful dream.The grandmother sat in God’s bright sunshine, and she read aloud from the Bible, “Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of God.” And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s eyes and all at once understood the words of the old song:“Roses bloom and fade away,But we the Christ-child see alway.”And they both sat there, grown up, yet children at heart, and it was summer—warm, beautiful summer.
Once upon a time, there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters. They were all good girls; but the youngest, named Balna, was more clever than the rest. The Raja’s wife died when they were quite little children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to take care of them.The Raja’s daughters took it by turns to cook their father’s dinner every day, whilst he was absent deliberating with his Ministers on the affairs of the nation.About this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter; and every day, every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing their father’s dinner, the Prudhan’s widow and daughter would come and beg for a little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her sisters, “Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at her own house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to come here, we shall suffer for it some day.”But the other sisters would answer, “Be quiet, Balna; why must you always be quarrelling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if she likes.” Then the Prudhan’s widow used to go to the hearth and take a few sticks from it; and whilst no one was looking, she would quickly throw some mud into the midst of the dishes which were being prepared for the Raja’s dinner.Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother’s death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from their carelessness, as it did not seem likely that any one should have put mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did not like to reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated many successive days.At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters cooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room, and watched them through a hole in the wall.There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and preparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by the fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan’s widow come to the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her dinner with. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, “Why don’t you keep fuel in your own house, and not come here every day and take ours? Sisters, don’t give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for herself.”Then the eldest sister answered, “Balna, let the poor woman take the wood and the fire; she does us no harm.” But Balna replied, “If you let her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make us sorry for it, some day.”The Raja then saw the Prudhan’s widow go to the place where all his dinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a little mud into each of the dishes.At this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and brought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words, that instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace.Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get them, if possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their place; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her, she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little water to drink; so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have everything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all their lives long, were very miserable and unhappy; and they used to go out every day and sit by their dead mother’s tomb and cry—and say:“Oh mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we are, and how we are starved by our cruel step-mother?”One day, whilst they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a beautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh ripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some of the fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the bad dinner their step-mother provided for them, they used to go out to their mother’s grave and eat the pomeloes which grew there on the beautiful tree.Then the Ranee said to her daughter, “I cannot tell how it is, every day those seven girls say they don’t want any dinner, and won’t eat any; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than you do. I cannot tell how it is.” And she bade her watch the seven Princesses, and see if any one gave them anything to eat.So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and were eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Prudhan’s daughter followed them, and saw them gathering the fruit.Then Balna said to her sisters, “Do you not see that girl watching us? Let us drive her away, or hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell her mother all about it, and that will be very bad for us.”But the other sisters said, “Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl would never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite her to come and have some of the fruit.” And calling her to them, they gave her one of the pomeloes.No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Prudhan’s daughter went home and said to her mother, “I do not wonder the seven Princesses will not eat the dinner you prepare for them, for by their mother’s grave there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there every day and eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever tasted.”The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she stayed in her room, and told the Raja that she had a very bad headache. The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, “What can I do for you?” She answered, “There is only one thing that will make my headache well. By your dead wife’s tomb there grows a fine pomelo tree; you must bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, and put a little of the water in which it has been boiled, on my forehead, and that will cure my headache.” So the Raja sent his servants, and had the beautiful pomelo tree pulled up by the roots, and did as the Ranee desired; and when some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was put on her forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite well.Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of their mother, the pomelo tree had disappeared. Then they all began to cry very bitterly.Now there was by the Ranee’s tomb a small tank, and as they were crying they saw that the tank was filled with a rich cream-like substance, which quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing this all the Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake, and liked it; and next day the same thing happened, and so it went on for many days. Every morning the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and found the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like cake. Then the cruel step-mother said to her daughter: “I cannot tell how it is, I have had the pomelo tree which used to grow by the Ranee’s grave destroyed, and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor look more sad, though they never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot tell how it is!”And her daughter said, “I will watch.”Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should come by but their step-mother’s daughter. Balna saw her first, and said, “See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the edge of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some of our cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very unfortunate for us.”The other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious, and instead of following her advice, they gave the Prudhan’s daughter some of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it.The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly angry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee’s tomb, and fill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she next day pretended to be very, very ill—in fact, at the point of death—and when the Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it was in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: “Only one thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.” He replied, “Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.” She then said, “To save my life, you must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of their blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their death will be my life.” At these words the Raja was very sorrowful; but because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy heart to find his daughters.He found them crying by the ruins of their mother’s grave.Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them, and told them to come out into the jungle with him; and there he made a fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the afternoon, it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep, and when he saw they were fast asleep, the Raja, their father, stole away and left them (for he feared his wife), saying to himself: “It is better my poor daughters should die here, than be killed by their step-mother.”He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the forehead and hands of the Ranee, and she thought then that he had really killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well.Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves all alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened, and began to call out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear; but he was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear them even had their voices been as loud as thunder.It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a neighbouring Raja chanced to be hunting in that same jungle, and as they were returning home, after the day’s sport was over, the youngest Prince said to his brothers “Stop, I think I hear some one crying and calling out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of the sound, and find out what it is.”So the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the place where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands. At the sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and still more so on learning their story; and they settled that each should take one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry her.So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him, and married her.And the second took the second;And the third took the third;And the fourth took the fourth;And the fifth took the fifth;And the sixth took the sixth;And the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the beautiful Balna.And when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing throughout the kingdom, at the marriage of the seven young Princes to seven such beautiful Princesses.About a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and aunts were so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven fathers and seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses had any children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was acknowledged their heir by all the rest.They had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the seventh Prince (Balna’s husband) said he would go out hunting, and away he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back.Then his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of him; and they went away, but they also did not return.And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their kind husbands must have been killed.One day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her baby’s cradle, and whilst her sisters were working in the room below, there came to the palace door a man in a long black dress, who said that he was a Fakir, and came to beg. The servants said to him, “You cannot go into the palace—the Raja’s sons have all gone away; we think they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by your begging.” But he said, “I am a holy man, you must let me in.” Then the stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did not know that this was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin.Punchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful things there, till at last he reached the room where Balna sat singing beside her little boy’s cradle. The Magician thought her more beautiful than all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch that he asked her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said, “My husband, I fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young; I will stay here and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is grown up he shall go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of his father. Heaven forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry you.” At these words the Magician was very angry, and turned her into a little black dog, and led her away; saying, “Since you will not come with me of your own free will, I will make you.” So the poor Princess was dragged away, without any power of effecting an escape, or of letting her sisters know what had become of her. As Punchkin passed through the palace gate the servants said to him, “Where did you get that pretty little dog?” And he answered, “One of the Princesses gave it to me as a present.” At hearing which they let him go without further questioning.Soon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their nephew, begin to cry, and when they went upstairs they were much surprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then they questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the little black dog, they guessed what had happened, and sent in every direction seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor the dog were to be found. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever seeing their kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband, again, and devoted themselves thenceforward to teaching and taking care of their little nephew.Thus time went on, till Balna’s son was fourteen years old. Then, one day, his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did he hear it, than he was seized with a great desire to go in search of his father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to bring them home again. His aunts, on learning his determination, were much alarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, “We have lost our husbands, and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole hope; if you go away, what shall we do?” But he replied, “I pray you not to be discouraged; I will return soon, and if it is possible bring my father and mother and uncles with me.” So he set out on his travels; but for some months he could learn nothing to help him in his search.At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and become almost hopeless of ever hearing anything further of his parents, he one day came to a country that seemed full of stones, and rocks, and trees, and there he saw a large palace with a high tower; hard by which was a Malee’s little house.As he was looking about, the Malee’s wife saw him, and ran out of the house and said, “My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this dangerous place?” He answered, “I am a Raja’s son, and I come in search of my father, and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked enchanter bewitched.”Then the Malee’s wife said, “This country and this palace belong to a great enchanter; he is all powerful, and if any one displeases him, he can turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see here were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what they now are. Some time ago a Raja’s son came here, and shortly afterwards came his six brothers, and they were all turned into stones and trees; and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that tower lives a beautiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisoner there for twelve years, because she hates him and will not marry him.”Then the little Prince thought, “These must be my parents and my uncles. I have found what I seek at last.” So he told his story to the Malee’s wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place awhile and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she mentioned; and she promised to befriend him, and advised his disguising himself lest the Magician should see him, and turn him likewise into stone. To this the Prince agreed. So the Malee’s wife dressed him up in a saree, and pretended that he was her daughter.One day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his garden he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked her who she was. She told him she was the Malee’s daughter, and the Magician said, “You are a pretty little girl, and to-morrow you shall take a present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in the tower.”The young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and went immediately to inform the Malee’s wife; after consultation with whom he determined that it would be more safe for him to retain his disguise, and trust to the chance of a favourable opportunity for establishing some communication with his mother, if it were indeed she.Now it happened that at Balna’s marriage her husband had given her a small gold ring on which her name was engraved, and she had put it on her little son’s finger when he was a baby, and afterwards when he was older his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able to wear it. The Malee’s wife advised him to fasten the well-known treasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother, and trust to her recognising it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as such a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her ever establishing communication with her friends), that though the supposed Malee’s daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day, the Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time. At last one day, however, opportunity favoured him, and when no one was looking, the boy tied the ring to a nosegay, and threw it at Balna’s feet. It fell with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to see what made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the flowers. On recognising it, she at once believed the story her son told her of his long search, and begged him to advise her as to what she had better do; at the same time entreating him on no account to endanger his life by trying to rescue her. She told him that for twelve long years the Magician had kept her shut up in the tower because she refused to marry him, and she was so closely guarded that she saw no hope of release.Now Balna’s son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, “Do not fear, dear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the Magician’s power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my father and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of rocks and trees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; now rather speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again seeing the husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing to marry him. Then endeavour to find out what his power consists in, and whether he is immortal, or can be put to death.”Balna determined to take her son’s advice; and the next day sent forPunchkin, and spoke to him as had been suggested.The Magician, greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to take place as soon as possible.But she told him that before she married him he must allow her a little more time, in which she might make his acquaintance, and that, after being enemies so long, their friendship could but strengthen by degrees. “And do tell me,” she said, “are you quite immortal? Can death never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?”“Why do you ask?” said he.“Because,” she replied, “if I am to be your wife, I would fain know all about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome, or if possible to avert it.”“It is true,” he added, “that I am not as others. Far, far away, hundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate country covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a circle of palm trees, and in the centre of the circle stand six chattees full of water, piled one above another: below the sixth chattee is a small cage which contains a little green parrot; on the life of the parrot depends my life; and if the parrot is killed I must die. It is, however,” he added, “impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both on account of the inaccessibility of the country, and because, by my appointment, many thousand genii surround the palm trees, and kill all who approach the place.”Balna told her son what Punchkin had said; but at the same time implored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot.The Prince, however, replied, “Mother, unless I can get hold of that parrot, you, and my father, and uncles, cannot be liberated: be not afraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in good humour—still putting off your marriage with him on various pretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here.” So saying, he went away.Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick jungle; and, being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep. He was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a large serpent which was making its way to an eagle’s nest built in the tree under which he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The Prince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword, and killed the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in the air, and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for their young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the young Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him, “Dear boy, for many years all our young ones have been devoured by that cruel serpent; you have now saved the lives of our children; whenever you are in need, therefore, send to us and we will help you; and as for these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants.”At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their wings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over the thick jungles, until he came to the place where grew the circle of palm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of water. It was the middle of the day, and the heat was very great. All round the trees were the genii fast asleep; nevertheless, there were such countless thousands of them, that it would have been quite impossible for any one to walk through their ranks to the place; down swooped the strong-winged eaglets—down jumped the Prince; in an instant he had overthrown the six chattees full of water, and seized the little green parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as he mounted again into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding their treasure gone, set up a wild and melancholy howl.Away, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the great tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, “Take back your little ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in need of help, I will not fail to come to you.” He then continued his journey on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician’s palace, where he sat down at the door and began playing with the parrot. Punchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, “My boy, where did you get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you.”But the Prince answered, “Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot, it is a great pet of mine; I have had it many years.”Then the Magician said, “If it is an old favourite, I can understand your not caring to give it away; but come what will you sell it for?”“Sir,” replied the Prince, “I will not sell my parrot.”Then Punchkin got frightened, and said, “Anything, anything; name what price you will, and it shall be yours.” The Prince answered, “Let the seven Raja’s sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be instantly liberated.”“It is done as you desire,” said the Magician, “only give me my parrot.” And with that, by a stroke of his wand, Balna’s husband and his brothers resumed their natural shapes. “Now, give me my parrot,” repeated Punchkin.“Not so fast, my master,” rejoined the Prince; “I must first beg that you will restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned.”The Magician immediately waved his wand again; and, whilst he cried, in an imploring voice, “Give me my parrot!” the whole garden became suddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been before, stood Rajas, and Punts, and Sirdars, and mighty men on prancing horses, and jewelled pages, and troops of armed attendants.“Give me my parrot!” cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the parrot, and tore off one of its wings; and as he did so the Magician’s right arm fell off.Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, “Give me my parrot!” The Prince pulled off the parrot’s second wing, and the Magician’s left arm tumbled off.“Give me my parrot!” cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince pulled off the parrot’s right leg, the Magician’s right leg fell off: the Prince pulled off the parrot’s left leg, down fell the Magician’s left.Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still he rolled his eyes, and cried, “Give me my parrot!” “Take your parrot, then,” cried the boy, and with that he wrung the bird’s neck, and threw it at the Magician; and, as he did so, Punchkin’s head twisted round, and, with a fearful groan, he died!Then they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven Princes went to their own country, and lived very happily ever afterwards. And as to the rest of the world, every one went to his own house.
In a remote village there lived a poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife. Though several years of their wedded life had passed, they unfortunately had no children, and so, being very eager for a child, and having no hope of one by his first wife, the poor Brâhmaṇ made up his mind to marry a second. His wife would not permit it for some time, but finding her husband resolved, she gave way, thinking within herself that she would manage somehow to do away with the second wife. As soon as he had got her consent the Brâhmaṇ arranged for his second marriage and wedded a beautiful Brâhmaṇ girl. She went to live with him in the same house with the first wife, who, thinking that she would be making the world suspicious if she did anything suddenly, waited for some time.Iśvara himself seemed to favour the new marriage, and the second wife, a year after her wedding, becoming pregnant, went in the sixth month of her pregnancy to her mother’s house for her confinement. Her husband bore his separation from her patiently for a fortnight, but after this the desire to see her again began to prey upon his mind, and he was always asking his first wife when he ought to go to her. She seemed to sympathise fully with his trouble, and said:—“My dearest husband, your health is daily being injured, and I am glad that your love for her has not made it worse than it is. To-morrow you must start on a visit to her. It is said that we should not go empty-handed to children, a king, or a pregnant woman; so I shall give you one hundred apûpa cakes, packed up separately in a vessel, which you must give to her. You are very fond of apûpas and I fear that you will eat some of them on the way; but you had better not do so. And I will give you some cakes packed in a cloth separately for you to eat on your journey.”So the first wife spent the whole night in preparing the apûpa cakes, and mixed poison in the sugar and rice-flour of those she made for her co-wife and rival; but as she entertained no enmity against her husband the apûpas cakes for him were properly prepared. By the time the morning dawned she had packed up the hundred apûpas in a brass vessel which could be easily carried on a man’s head.After a light breakfast—for a heavy one is always bad before a journey on foot—the Brâhmaṇ placed the brass vessel on his head, and holding in his hand the kerchief containing the food for himself on the way, started for the village of his second wife, which happened to be at a distance of two days’ journey. He walked in hot haste till evening approached, and when the darkness of night overtook him the rapidity of his walk had exhausted him, and he felt very hungry. He espied a wayside shed and a tank near his path, and entered the water to perform his evening ablution to the god of the day, who was fast going down below the horizon. As soon as this was over he untied his kerchief, and did full justice to its contents by swallowing every cake whole. He then drank some water, and being quite overcome by fatigue, fell into a deep slumber in the shed, with his brass vessel and its sweet, or rather poisonous, contents under his head.Close by the spot where the Brâhmaṇ slept there reigned a famous king who had a very beautiful daughter. Several persons demanded her hand in marriage, among whom was a robber chieftain who wanted her for his only son. Though the king liked the boy for his beauty, the thought that he was only a robber for all that prevented him from making up his mind to give his daughter in marriage to him. The robber chief, however, was determined to have his own way, and accordingly despatched one hundred of his band to fetch away the princess in the night without her knowledge while she was sleeping, to his palace in the woods. In obedience to their chieftain’s order the robbers, on the night the Brâhmaṇ happened to sleep in the shed, entered the king’s palace and stole away the princess, together with the bed on which she was sleeping. On reaching the shed the hundred robbers found themselves very thirsty—for being awake at midnight always brings on thirst. So they placed the cot on the ground and were entering the water to quench their thirst; just then they smelt the apûpa cakes, which, for all that they contained poison, had a very sweet savour. The robbers searched about the shed, and found the Brâhmaṇ sleeping on one side and the brass vessel lying at a distance from him, for he had pushed it from underneath his head when he had stretched himself in his sleep; they opened the vessel, and to their joy found in it exactly one hundred apûpa cakes.“We have one here for each of us, and that is something better than mere water. Let us each eat before we go into it,” said the leader of the gang, and at once each man swallowed greedily what he had in his hand, and immediately all fell down dead. Lucky it was that no one knew of the old Brâhmaṇî’s trick. Had the robbers had any reason to suspect it they would never have eaten the cakes; had the Brâhmaṇ known it he would never have brought them with him for his dear second wife. Lucky was it for the poor old Brâhmaṇ and his second wife, and lucky was it for the sleeping princess, that these cakes went, after all, into the stomachs of the villainous robbers!After sleeping his fill the Brâhmaṇ, who had been dreaming of his second wife all night, awoke in haste to pursue the remainder of his journey to her house. He could not find his brass vessel, but near the place where he had left it he found several men of the woods, whom he knew very well by their appearance to be robbers, as he thought, sleeping. Angered at the loss of his vessel he took up a sword from one of the dead robbers and cut off all their heads, thinking all the while that he was killing one hundred living robbers, who were sleeping after having eaten all his cakes. Presently the princess’s cot fell under his gaze, and he approached it and found on it a most beautiful lady fast asleep. Being an intelligent man he perceived that the persons whose heads he had cut off must have been some thieves, or other wicked men, who had carried her off. He was not long in doubt, for not far off he saw an army marching up rapidly with a king at its head, who was saying, “Down with the robber who has stolen away my daughter.” The Brâhmaṇ at once inferred that this must be the father of the sleeping princess, and suddenly waking her up from her sleep spoke thus to her:—“Behold before you the hundred robbers that brought you here a few hours ago from your palace. I fought one and all of them single-handed, and have killed them all.”The princess was highly pleased at what she heard, for she knew of all the tricks the robbers had previously played to carry her off. So she fell reverently at the Brâhmaṇ’s feet and said:—“Friend, never till now have I heard of a warrior who, single-handed, fought one hundred robbers. Your valour is unparalleled. I will be your wife, if only in remembrance of your having saved me from falling into the hands of these ruffians.”Her father and his army was now near the shed, for he had all along watched the conduct of the robber chieftain, and as soon as the maid-servants of the palace informed him of the disappearance of the princess and her bed, he marched straight with his soldiers for the woods. His joy, when he saw his daughter safe, knew no bounds, and he flew into his daughter’s arms, while she pointed to the Brâhmaṇ as her preserver. The king now put a thousand questions to our hero, who, being well versed in matters of fighting, gave sound replies, and so came successfully out of his first adventure. The king, astonished at his valour, took him to his palace, and rewarded him with the hand of the princess. And the robber chieftain, fearing the new son-in-law, who, single-handed, had killed a hundred of his robbers, never troubled himself about the princess. Thus the Brâhmaṇ’s first adventure ended in making him son-in-law to a king!Now there lived a lioness in a wood near the princess’s country, who had a great taste for human flesh, and so, once a week, the king used to send a man into the wood to serve as her prey. All the people now collected together before the king, and said:—“Most honoured king, while you have a son-in-law who killed one hundred robbers with his sword, why should you continue to send a man into the wood every week. We request you to send your son-in-law next week to the wood and have the lioness killed.”This seemed most reasonable to the king, who called for his son-in-law, and sent him, armed to the teeth, into the wood.Now our Brâhmaṇ could not refuse to go, for fear of losing the fame of his former exploit, and, hoping that fortune would favour him, he asked his father-in-law to have him hoisted up into a big banyan tree with all kinds of weapons, and this was done. The appointed time for the lioness to eat her prey approached, and as she saw no one coming for her, and as sometimes those that had to come used to linger for a short time in the tree in which the Brâhmaṇ had taken refuge, she went up to it to see that no such trick has been played upon her this time. This made the Brâhmaṇ tremble so violently that he dropped the sword he held in his hand. At that very moment the lioness happened to yawn, and the sword dropped right into her jaws and killed her. As soon as the Brâhmaṇ saw the course which events had taken, he came down from the tree, and invented a thousand stories of how he had given battle to the terrible lioness and overcome her. This exploit fully established his valour, and feasts and rejoicings in honour of it followed, and the whole country round blessed the son-in-law of their king.Near this kingdom there also reigned a powerful emperor, who levied tribute from all the surrounding countries. To this emperor the father-in-law of our most valorous Brâhmaṇ, who, at one stroke, had killed one hundred robbers, and, at another, a fierce lioness, had also to pay a certain amount of tribute; but, trusting to the power of his son-in-law, he stopped the tribute to the emperor, who, by the way, was named Appayya Râja, and who, as soon as the tribute was stopped, invaded his dominions, and his father-in-law besought the Brâhmaṇ for assistance.Again the poor Brâhmaṇ could not refuse, for, if he did, all his former fame would have been lost; so he determined to undertake this adventure also, and to trust to fortune rather than give up the attempt. He asked for the best horse and the sharpest sword, and set out to fight the enemy, who had already encamped on the other side of the river, which flowed at a short distance to the east of the town.Now the king had a very unruly horse, which had never been broken in, and this he gave his son-in-law; and, supplying him with a sharp sword, asked him to start. The Brâhmaṇ then asked the king’s servants to tie him up with cotton strings tight on to the saddle, and set out on the expedition.The horse, having never till then felt a man on its back, began to gallop most furiously, and flew onwards so fast that all who saw it thought the rider must lose his life, and he too was almost dead with fear. He tried his best to curb his steed, but the more he pulled the faster it galloped, till giving up all hopes of life he let it take its course. It jumped into the water and swam across to the other side of the river, wetting the cotton cords by which the Brâhmaṇ was tied down to the saddle, making them swell and giving him the most excruciating pain. He bore it, however, with all the patience imaginable. Presently the horse reached the other side of the river, where there was a big palmyra tree, which a recent flood had left almost uprooted and ready to fall at the slightest touch. The Brâhmaṇ, unable to stop the course of the horse, held fast on to the tree, hoping thus to check its wild career. But unfortunately for him the tree gave way, and the steed galloped on so furiously that he did not know which was the safer—to leave the tree or to hold on to it. Meanwhile the wet cotton cords hurt him so that he, in the hopelessness of despair, bawled out appa! ayya!(Oh! Ah!) On went his steed, and still he held on to the palmyra tree. Though now fighting for his own life, the people that were watching him from a great distance thought him to be flying to the battlefield, armed with a palmyra tree! The cry of lamentation, appa ayya, which he uttered, his enemy mistook for a challenge, because, as we know, his name happened to be Appayya. Horror-struck at the sight of a warrior armed with a huge tree, his enemy turned and fled. Yathâ râjâ tathâ prajâh—“As is the king so are the subjects,”—and accordingly his followers also fled. The Brâhmaṇ warrior (!) seeing the fortunate course events had again taken pursued the enemy, or rather let his courser have its own furious way. Thus the enemy and his vast army melted away in the twinkling of an eye, and the horse, too, when it became exhausted, returned towards the palace.The old king had been watching from the loftiest rooms of his palace all that had passed on the other side of the river, and believing his son-in-law had, by his own prowess, driven out the enemy, approached him with all pomp. Eager hands quickly cut the knots by which the victorious (!) Brâhmaṇ had been held tight in his saddle, and his old father-in-law with tears of joy embraced him on his victory, saying that the whole kingdom was indebted to him. A splendid triumphal march was conducted, in which the eyes of the whole town were directed towards our victorious hero.Thus, on three different occasions, and in three different adventures, fortune favoured the poor Brâhmaṇ and brought him fame. He then sent for his two former wives and took them into his palace. His second wife, who was pregnant when he first started with the apûpa cakes to see her, had given birth to a male child, who was, when she came back to him, more than a year old. The first wife confessed to her husband her sin of having given him poisoned cakes, and craved his pardon; and it was only now that he came to know that the hundred robbers he killed in his first adventure were all really dead men, and that they must have died from the effects of the poison in the cakes, and, since her treachery had given him a new start in life, he forgave her. She, too, gave up her enmity to the partners of her husband’s bed, and all the four lived in peace and plenty for many a long day afterwards.
There is a proverb in Tamil̤ called Palikkuppali vâṅgukiradu which would best be translated by the expression “tit for tat,” and the following story I heard when a boy from my step-mother, illustrating that proverb, and I have of late found the same story also in the Trichinopoly districts.In a certain village there lived a poor Śûdra. He had made a vow to the goddess of his village, that if he came out successfully in a certain undertaking he would offer her a couple of goats. And he succeeded in his undertaking, and thought that his goddess alone had granted his request. Great was his joy and greater became his faith in her extraordinary powers. And as he promised he brought two fat goats and sacrificed them to her.These goats thus sacrificed and the Śûdra sacrificer who meanwhile had died by a sudden fever, after a short time were all re-born in the world to undergo the results of their goodness or sin. The two goats, because they were sacrificed to the goddess, were re-born as the king and the minister of a large country. The Śûdra, as he had as much faith in his former life as in his goddess, was reborn in the priest’s (gurukkula) caste, of course neither the king and his minister nor the priest had any reason to know their former life, until the death of the latter approached, as we shall presently see. A large kingdom fell to the share of the king, and he with his minister reigned over it most peacefully. In an unfrequented wilderness was a famous temple of a powerful goddess of of that country, and in that pagoda the priest regularly conducted her worship.Thus passed several years, the king and minister happy in their own kingdom, and the priest executing his religious duties in the wilderness. The priest was leading a most calm and holy life, eating what grew in the wilderness. His life was as pure as pure can be.But for all that fate would not forgive him for his acts in his former life.The king and the minister had vowed to the goddess of the wilderness that if they returned successfully from the conquest of an enemy of theirs they would offer her some human sacrifice. And so they returned, and to make entire their vow to the goddess they left their kingdom like ordinary men and came to the wood. All along the way they searched for a person to sacrifice, but no one—fortunately for him—was to be found. They still thought that the vow must not be left unaccomplished, and resolved upon catching the priest of the temple and offering him up as their intended sacrifice. When such strong people like the king and his minister resolved to do so, what could the poor priest do? He was quite unable to escape when those two informed him of what they were going to do with him on his entering to worship the goddess. Said the priest:—“Sirs! You have come here resolved upon offering me up as a sacrifice to the goddess. I cannot hereafter escape your hold. But if you would allow me to perform my pûjâ to the goddess this morning also, I shall gladly die after having done my duty.”So said the priest, and the king and the minister watched at the entrance and let him in.The priest went into the Garbhagṛiha—the holy of the holies in the temple, and performed his worship to the goddess. After that was over he gave the image a severe blow on its back and thus addressed it:—“Most merciless goddess. What have you done for all my faith in you. In this lonely wilderness, without knowing any other duty than your worship, I had been your true servant for the past many years. And in reward for all that, I must fall now a prey to the sacrifice of the king and the minister who are sharpening their knives outside to cut off my head at this moment. Is this the result of all my pûjâ (worship) to you.”So spake the priest, and the goddess, laughing, thus replied from the vacuum:—“My true priest. Your acts in your former life must trouble you in this. And the charitable acts of this life, even, cannot protect you in your next birth. In your former birth you had murdered two goats. They were born as king and minister, and have dragged you here to murder you. But this—the murder you are to undergo soon, by these hands will relieve you only of one of the two murders of your former life. And for the other murder you and they would be re-born again, and again they would kill you. So in your next third life from this one you would enjoy the fruits of all this devotion. Since now you know the story of your former life, you will forgive me, I think.”Thus spoke the goddess, and the priest, as the knowledge of his former life dawned upon him, by the grace of the goddess, seemed resolved to die, in order to pay for his former sin. But the idea that in the next life he was to undergo the same punishment, vexed him much, and falling down at the goddess’s feet, he respectfully requested her to try her best to let him off the next life; and the goddess’s heart was also moved at the severity of fate which would make her devotee pass through one more life in misery before he enjoyed the fruits of his devotion. So she devised the following plan to exculpate him from his two crimes at the same time, and thus replied:—“Priest! ‘Intelligence can conquer even Fate,’ is the proverb. When Kâli gave 500 years’ life to Vikramâditya in his town, Bhatti, his minister, by making the king live six months in his capital and six months in the jungle, made his master’s life to last for 1000 years. So by intelligence we conquer our fate too, sometimes. So hear my advice. Ask the king who has come to murder you to hold one end of the knife, and request his minister to hold the other end. Ask both of them to aim the blow at your neck; that will accomplish everything complete during this life. They will have no revenge to take from you in your next life.”So saying, the voice of the goddess stopped. The priest came back with a cheerful heart to the king and the minister, and asked them to oblige him by each of them holding one end of the knife and murdering him. They agreed, and performed thus their vow. The poor priest, too, without having another miserable life, was born a king in his next life, and lived in prosperity.Here the story ends, and the story-teller in the Hindû household, and in my case my stepmother, would at once moralise, that if we did anything to any one in this life, that one would pay us out for it in our next life.N.B.—I am led to think that this story does not contain a purely Hindû moral.
In those very early times there was a man named Deucalion, and he was the son of Prometheus. He was only a common man and not a Titan like his great father, and yet he was known far and wide for his good deeds and the uprightness of his life. His wife’s name was Pyrrha, and she was one of the fairest of the daughters of men.After Jupiter had bound Prometheus on Mount Caucasus and had sent diseases and cares into the world, men became very, very wicked. They no longer built houses and tended their flocks and lived together in peace; but every man was at war with his neighbor, and there was no law nor safety in all the land. Things were in much worse case now than they had been before Prometheus had come among men, and that was just what Jupiter wanted. But as the world became wickeder and wickeder every day, he began to grow weary of seeing so much bloodshed and of hearing the cries of the oppressed and the poor.“These men,” he said to his mighty company, “are nothing but a source of trouble. When they were good and happy, we felt afraid lest they should become greater than ourselves; and now they are so terribly wicked that we are in worse danger than before. There is only one thing to be done with them, and that is to destroy them every one.”So he sent a great rain-storm upon the earth, and it rained day and night for a long time; and the sea was filled to the brim, and the water ran over the land and covered first the plains and then the forests and then the hills. But men kept on fighting and robbing, even while the rain was pouring down and the sea was coming up over the land.No one but Deucalion, the son of Prometheus, was ready for such a storm. He had never joined in any of the wrong doings of those around him, and had often told them that unless they left off their evil ways there would be a day of reckoning in the end. Once every year he had gone to the land of the Caucasus to talk with his father, who was hanging chained to the mountain peak.“The day is coming,” said Prometheus, “when Jupiter will send a flood to destroy mankind from the earth. Be sure that you are ready for it, my son.”And so when the rain began to fall, Deucalion drew from its shelter a boat which he had built for just such a time. He called fair Pyrrha, his wife, and the two sat in the boat and were floated safely on the rising waters. Day and night, day and night, I cannot tell how long, the boat drifted hither and thither. The tops of the trees were hidden by the flood, and then the hills and then the mountains; and Deucalion and Pyrrha could see nothing anywhere but water, water, water-and they knew that all the people in the land had been drowned.After a while the rain stopped falling, and the clouds cleared away, and the blue sky and the golden sun came out overhead. Then the water began to sink very fast and to run off the land towards the sea; and early the very next day the boat was drifted high upon a mountain called Parnassus, and Deucalion and Pyrrha stepped out upon the dry land. After that, it was only a short time until the whole country was laid bare, and the trees shook their leafy branches in the wind, and the fields were carpeted with grass and flowers more beautiful than in the days before the flood.But Deucalion and Pyrrha were very sad, for they knew that they were the only persons who were left alive in all the land. At last they started to walk down the mountain side towards the plain, wondering what would become of them now, all alone as they were in the wide world. While they were talking and trying to think what they should do, they heard a voice behind them. They turned and saw a noble young prince standing on one of the rocks above them. He was very tall, with blue eyes and yellow hair. There were wings on his shoes and on his cap, and in his hands he bore a staff with golden serpents twined around it. They knew at once that he was Mercury, the swift messenger of the Mighty Ones, and they waited to hear what he would say.“Is there anything that you wish?” he asked. “Tell me, and you shall have whatever you desire.”“We should like, above all things,” said Deucalion, “to see this land full of people once more; for without neighbors and friends, the world is a very lonely place indeed.”“Go on down the mountain,” said Mercury, “and as you go, cast the bones of your mother over your shoulders behind you;” and, with these words, he leaped into the air and was seen no more.“What did he mean?” asked Pyrrha.“Surely I do not know,” said Deucalion. “But let us think a moment. Who is our mother, if it is not the Earth, from whom all living things have sprung? And yet what could he mean by the bones of our mother?”“Perhaps he meant the stones of the earth,” said Pyrrha. “Let us go on down the mountain, and as we go, let us pick up the stones in our path and throw them over our shoulders behind us.”“It is rather a silly thing to do,” said Deucalion; “and yet there can be no harm in it, and we shall see what will happen.”And so they walked on, down the steep slope of Mount Parnassus, and as they walked they picked up the loose stones in their way and cast them over their shoulders; and strange to say, the stones which Deucalion threw sprang up as full-grown men, strong, and handsome, and brave; and the stones which Pyrrha threw sprang up as full-grown women, lovely and fair. When at last they reached the plain they found themselves at the head of a noble company of human beings, all eager to serve them.So Deucalion became their king, and he set them in homes, and taught them how to till the ground, and how to do many useful things; and the land was filled with people who were happier and far better than those who had dwelt there before the flood. And they named the country Hellas, after Hellen, the son of Deucalion and Pyrrha; and the people are to this day called Hellenes.But we call the country Greece.
A certain king had a beautiful garden which contained a number of very rare trees, but the most rare of all was an apple tree. It stood in the middle of the garden, and produced one golden apple every day. In the morning the blossom unfolded, during the day you might watch the fruit grow, and before nightfall the apple was fully ripe. The next day the same thing occurred—indeed, it happened regularly every twenty-four hours. Nevertheless, no ripe fruit ever remained on the tree on the following day; the apple disappeared, no one knew how or when, and this deeply grieved the king.At last he could bear it no longer, and calling his eldest son to him, said: “My child, I wish you to keep watch in the garden to-night, and see if you can find out what becomes of my golden apples. I will reward you with the choice of all my treasures; if you should be lucky enough to get hold of the thief, and bring him to me, I would gladly give you half my kingdom.”The young prince girded his trusty sword to his side, and with his crossbow on his shoulder and a good stock of well-tempered arrows, went into the garden to mount guard. And as he sat under the apple tree a great drowsiness came over him which he could not resist; his arms dropped, his eyes closed, and stretching himself on the grass he slept as soundly as if he had been in his own bed at home, nor did he awake until day dawn, and then he saw that the apple had disappeared.When questioned by his father, he said that no thieves had come, but that the apple had vanished all the same. The king shook his head, for he did not believe a word of it. Then, turning to his second son, he bade him keep watch, and promised him a handsome reward if he should catch the thief.So the second son armed himself with everything necessary and went into the garden. But he succeeded no better than his brother, for he could not resist the desire to sleep, and when he awoke the apple was no longer there.When his father asked him how it disappeared, he replied, “No one took it, it vanished of itself.”“Now, my dearest one, take your turn,” said the king to his youngest son; “although you are young, and have less experience than your brothers, let us see if you cannot succeed where they have failed. If you are willing, go, and may God help you.”Towards evening, when it began to be dusk, the youngest son went into the garden to keep watch. He took with him a sword and crossbow, a few well-tempered arrows, and a hedgehog’s skin as a sort of apron, for he thought that while sitting under the tree, if he spread the skin over his knees, the pricking of the bristles on his hands might keep him awake. And so it did, for by this means he was able to resist the drowsiness that came over him.At midnight Ohnivak, the bird of fire, flew down and alighted upon the tree, and was just going off with the apple when the prince fixed an arrow to his bow, and letting it fly, struck the bird under the wing. Although wounded, it flew away, dropping one of its feathers upon the ground. That night for the first time the apple remained untouched upon the tree.“Have you caught the thief?” asked the king next day.“Not altogether, but no doubt we shall have him in time. I have a bit of his trappings.” And he gave the king the feather, and told him all that had taken place.The king was charmed with the feather; so lovely and bright was it that it illumined all the galleries of the palace, and they needed no other light.The courtiers told the king that the feather could only belong to Ohnivak, the bird of fire, and that it was worth all the rest of the royal treasures put together.From that time Ohnivak came no more to the garden, and the apples remained untouched. Yet the king could think of nothing else but how to possess this marvellous bird. At last, beginning to despair of ever seeing it, he was filled with melancholy, and would remain for hours in deep thought; thus he became really ill, and every day continued to grow worse.One day he summoned his three sons before him and said, “My dear children, you see the sad state I am in. If I could but hear the bird Ohnivak sing just once I should be cured of this disease of the heart; otherwise it will be my death. Whichever of you shall succeed in catching Ohnivak alive and inducing him to sing to me, to him I will give half of my kingdom and the heirship to the throne.”Having taken leave of their father the brothers set off. They travelled together until they came to a part of the forest where the road branched off in three directions.“Which turning shall we take?” asked the eldest.The second brother answered, “We are three, and three roads lie before us; let us each choose one, thus we shall treble our chances of finding the bird, for we shall seek it in three different countries.”“That is a good idea, but how shall each one decide which way to choose?”The youngest brother said, “I will leave the choice to you two, and will take whichever road you leave me.”So each took the road that chance decided for him, agreeing that when their mission was over they would return to the point of departure. In order to recognise the place again each one planted the branch of a tree at the cross roads, and they believed that he whose branch should take root and grow into a big tree would be successful in the quest.When each one had planted his branch at the chosen road they started off. The eldest rode on, and never stopped until he reached the top of a high mountain; there he dismounted, and let his horse graze while he ate his breakfast. Suddenly a red fox came up, and speaking in the language of men, said: “Pray, my handsome prince, give me a little of what you are eating; I am very hungry.”For answer the prince let fly an arrow from his crossbow, but it is impossible to say whether he hit the fox for it vanished and did not appear again.The second brother, without meeting with any adventure, reached a wide-stretching moor, where he stopped for his meal. The red fox appeared to him and begged for food; but he also refused food to the famished fox, and shot at him. The creature disappeared as before.The youngest travelled on till he came to the banks of a river. Feeling tired and hungry, he got down from his horse and began his breakfast; while he was eating, up came the red fox.“Please, young sir,” said the fox, “give me a morsel to satisfy my hunger.”The prince threw him a piece of meat, and spoke kindly to him.“Come near, do not be afraid, my red fox; I see you are more hungry than I, but there is enough for us both.”And he divided all his provisions into two equal parts, one for himself, and one for the poor red fox.When the latter had eaten to his heart’s content, he said: “You have fed me well, in return I will serve you well; mount your horse and follow me. If you do everything I tell you, the Bird of Fire shall be yours.”Then he set off at a run before the horseman, clearing the road for him with his bushy tail. By means of this marvellous broom, mountains were cut down, ravines filled up, and rivers bridged over.The young prince followed at a gallop, without the slightest wish to stop, until they came to a castle built of copper.“The Bird of Fire is in this castle,” said the fox; “you must enter exactly at midday, for then the guards will be asleep, and you will pass unnoticed. Above all, beware of stopping anywhere. In the first apartment you will find twelve birds black as night, in golden cages; in the second, twelve golden birds in wooden cages; in the third, Ohnivak, the bird of fire, roosting on his perch. Near him are two cages, one of wood and the other of gold; be sure you put him in the wooden cage—you would be sorry for it if he were put into the golden one.”The prince entered the castle, and found everything just as the fox had told him. Having passed through the two rooms he came to the third, and there saw the fire-bird on his perch, apparently asleep. It was indeed a beautiful creature, so beautiful that the prince’s heart beat high with joy. He handled him without difficulty, and put him into the wooden cage, thinking at the same time to himself that it could hardly be right for so lovely a bird to be in such an ugly cage, a golden cage could be the only right place for him. So he took him out of the wooden cage and placed him in the golden one. Hardly had he shut the door when the bird opened his eyes and gave a piercing scream; so shrill was it that it awoke the other birds, who began to sing as loud as they could, and gave the alarm to the guards at the palace door. These rushed in, seized the prince, and dragged him before the king. The latter was very angry, and said: “Infamous thief, who are you to have dared to force an entrance, and pass through my sentinels, to steal my bird Ohnivak?”“I am not a thief,” answered the young prince indignantly, “I have come to reclaim a thief whom you protect. I am the son of a king, and in my father’s gardens is an apple tree that bears golden fruit. It blossoms at morning-time, while during the day the flower develops into an apple that grows and ripens after sunset. Now in the night your bird robbed us of our golden apples, and though I watched and wounded him I could not catch him. My father is dying with grief because of this, and the only remedy that can save and restore him to health, is that he may listen to the fire-bird’s song. This is why I beg your majesty to give him me.”“You may have him,” said the king, “but on one condition, that you bring me Zlato-Nrivak, the horse with the golden mane.”So the prince had to go away empty-handed.“Why did you not do as I told you? Why must you go and take the golden cage?” said the fox, in despair at the failure of the expedition.“I admit it was my own fault,” said the prince, “but do not punish me by being angry. I want your advice: tell me how I am to get Zlato-Nrivak?”“I know how it can be done,” answered the red fox, “and I will help you once more. Get on your horse, follow me, and do as I tell you.”The fox ran on in front, clearing the road with his bushy tail. The prince followed at a gallop, until they came to a castle built entirely of silver.“In that castle lives the Horse with the Golden Mane,” said the fox. “You will have to go exactly at midday, when the sentinels are asleep; thus you will get past safe and sound. But mind, do not stop anywhere. You must pass through three stables. In the first are twelve black horses with golden bridles; in the second, twelve white horses with black bridles; in the third stands Zlato-Nrivak in front of his manger, while near him are two bridles, one of gold, the other of black leather. Whatever you do, beware of using the first, for you will surely repent it.”The prince waited until the appointed time and then entered the castle, finding everything exactly as the fox had said. In the third stable stood Zlato-Nrivak, eating fire that flared up out of his silver trough.The Horse with the Golden Mane was so beautiful that the prince could not take his eyes off him. Quickly unhooking the black leather bridle, he put it over the horse’s head. The animal made no resistance, but was gentle and quiet as a lamb. Then the prince looked covetously at the golden bridle sparkling with gems, and said to himself, “It is a shame that such a splendid creature should be guided by these ugly black reins while there is a bridle here far more suited to him, and that is indeed his by right.” So, forgetting his late experience and the warnings of the red fox, he tore off the black bridle and put in its place that of gold set with precious stones. No sooner did the horse feel the change than he began to neigh and caper about, while all the other horses answered with a perfect storm of neighings. The sentinels, aroused by the noise, ran in, and seizing the prince, led him before the king.“Insolent thief,” cried the enraged monarch, “how is it that you have escaped the vigilance of the guards and have dared to lay hands upon my horse with the golden mane? It is really disgraceful.”“True, I am nothing better,” replied the prince proudly, “but I was forced to do it against my will.” And he related all his misadventures at the copper castle, adding that it was impossible to obtain the fire-bird except in exchange for Zlato-Nrivak, and that he hoped his majesty would make him a present of the horse.“Most willingly,” answered the king, “but on one condition, that you bring me the Maiden with the Golden Locks: she lives in the golden castle on the shores of the Black Sea.”The fox was waiting in the forest the prince’s return, and when he saw him come back without the horse he was very angry indeed.“Did I not warn you,” said he, “to be content with the black leather bridle? It is really a loss of time to try and help such an ungrateful fellow, for it seems impossible to make you hear reason.”“Don’t be cross,” said the prince, “I confess that I am in fault; I ought to have obeyed your orders. But have a little more patience with me and help me out of this difficulty.”“Very well; but this will certainly be the last time. If you do just as you are told we may yet repair all that has been spoilt by your imprudence. Mount your horse and follow—off!”The fox ran on in front, clearing the road with his bushy tail, until they reached the shores of the Black Sea.“That palace yonder,” said the fox, “is the residence of the Queen of the Ocean Kingdom. She has three daughters; it is the youngest who has the golden hair, and is called Zlato-Vlaska. Now you must first go to the queen and ask her to give you one of her daughters in marriage. If she takes kindly to your proposal she will bid you choose, and mind you take that princess who is the most plainly dressed.”The queen received him most graciously, and when he explained the object of his visit she led him into a room where the three daughters were spinning.They were so much alike that no one could possibly distinguish one from the other, and they were all so marvellously lovely that when the young prince looked upon them he dared hardly breathe. Their hair was carefully covered by a veil through which one could not distinguish the colour of it, but their dresses were different. The first wore a gown and veil embroidered with gold, and used a golden distaff; the second had on a gown embroidered with silver and held a distaff of the same metal; the third wore a gown and veil of dazzling whiteness, and her distaff was made of wood.The mother bade the prince choose, whereupon he pointed to the maiden clothed in white, saying, “Give me this one to wife.”“Ah,” said the queen, “some one has been letting you into the secret: but wait a little, we shall meet again to-morrow.”All that night the prince lay awake, wondering how he should manage not to make a mistake on the morrow. At dawn he was already at the palace gates, which he had hardly entered when the princess clothed in white chanced to pass: it was Zlato-Vlaska, and she had come to meet him.“If it is your wish to choose me again to-day,” she said, “observe carefully, and take the maiden around whose head buzzes a small fly.”In the afternoon the queen took the prince into a room where her three daughters sat, and said: “If among these princesses you recognise the one you chose yesterday she shall be yours; if not, you must die.”The young girls stood side by side, dressed alike in costly robes, and all had golden hair. The prince was puzzled, and their beauty and splendour dazzled him. For some time he could hardly see distinctly; then, all of a sudden, a small fly buzzed over the head of one of the princesses.“This is the maiden who belongs to me,” cried he, “and whom I chose yesterday.”The queen, astonished that he should have guessed correctly, said, “Quite right, but I cannot let you have her until you have submitted to another trial, which shall be explained to you to-morrow.”On the morrow she pointed out to him a large fish-pond which lay in the forest, and giving him a small golden sieve, said: “If with this sieve you can, before sunset, empty that fish-pond yonder, I will give you my daughter with the golden hair, but if you fail you will lose your life.”The prince took the sieve, and, going down to the pond, plunged it in to try his luck; but no sooner had he lifted it up than all the water ran out through the holes—not a drop was left behind. Not knowing what to do, he sat down on the bank with the sieve in his hand, wondering in what possible way the difficulty might be overcome.“Why are you so sad?” asked the maiden in white, as she came towards him.“Because I fear you will never be mine,” sighed he; “your mother has given me an impossible task.”“Come, cheer up, away with fear; it will all be right in the end.”Thereupon she took the sieve and threw it into the fishpond. Instantly the water turned to foam on the surface, and a thick vapour rose up, which fell in a fog so dense that nothing could be seen through it. Then the prince heard footsteps, and turning round saw his horse coming towards him, with his bridle down and the red fox at his side.“Mount quickly,” said the horse, “there is not a moment to lose; lift the maiden in front of you.”The faithful steed flew like an arrow, and sped rapidly along over the road that had been recently cleared by the bushy tail of the red fox. But this time, instead of leading, the red fox followed, his tail working marvels as he went: it destroyed the bridges, reopened the ravines, raised high mountains, and in fact put back everything as it used to be.The prince felt very happy as he rode along, holding the Princess with the Golden Hair, but it saddened him much to think he would have to give up all thought of marrying her himself, and that within a few short hours he must leave her with the king of the silver palace: the nearer he came to it, the more wretched he grew. The red fox, who noticed this, said: “It appears to me that you do not want to exchange the lovely Zlato-Vlaska for the Horse with the Golden Mane: is it not so? Well, I have helped you so far, I will see what I can do for you now.”And having thus spoken he turned a somersault over the stump of a fallen tree which lay in the forest: while, to the prince’s amazement, he was immediately transformed into a young girl exactly resembling the Princess with the Golden Hair.“Now, leave your real bride in the forest,” said the transformed fox, “and take me with you to offer to the king of the silver palace in exchange for his horse Zlato-Nrivak. Mount the horse, return here, and escape with the maid you love; I will manage the rest.”The king of the silver castle received the maiden without the least suspicion, and handed over in exchange the Horse with the Golden Mane, over whose back lay the bejewelled bridle. The prince left at once.At the palace all were busy preparing the wedding feast, for the marriage was to take place immediately, and everything was to be of the most costly description. Invitations had been out to all the grandees of the land.Towards the end of the feast, when every one had drunk his fill of wine and pleasure, the king asked his guests their opinions on the charms of his bride.“She is most beautiful,” said one, “in fact, it would be impossible for her to be more lovely; only, it seems to me that her eyes are somewhat like those of a fox.”The words were hardly out of his mouth when the royal bride vanished, while in her place sat a red fox, who with one vigorous bound sprang through the door and disappeared to rejoin the prince, who had hastened on in front. With sweeping strokes of his bushy tail he overthrew bridges, reopened precipices, and heaped up mountains; but it was very hard work for the poor thing, and he did not come up with the runaways until they had almost reached the copper castle. Here they all had a rest, while the red fox turned a somersault and transformed himself into a horse resembling the one with the golden mane. Then the prince entered the copper castle and exchanged the transformed fox for the fire-bird Ohnivak, the king having no suspicions whatever. The red fox, having thus deceived the monarch, reassumed his own shape and hurried after the departing prince, whom he did not overtake until they had reached the banks of the river where they had first become acquainted.“Now here you are, prince,” said the red fox, “in possession of Ohnivak, of the lovely Zlato-Vlaska, and of the Horse with the Golden Mane. Henceforth you can manage without my help, so return to your father’s house in peace and joy; but, take warning, do not stop anywhere on the way, for if you do some misfortune will overtake you.”With these words the red fox vanished, while the prince continued his journey unhindered. In his hand he held the golden cage that contained the fire-bird, and at his side the lovely Zlato-Vlaska rode the Horse with the Golden Mane; truly, he was the happiest of men.When he reached the cross roads where he had parted from his brothers, he hastened to look for the branches they had planted. His alone had become a spreading tree, theirs were both withered. Delighted with this proof of divine favour, he felt a strong desire to rest for a while under the shadow of his own tree; he therefore dismounted, and assisting the princess to do the same, fastened their horses to one of the branches and hung up the cage containing Ohnivak on another: within a few moments they were all sound asleep.Meanwhile the two elder brothers arrived at the same place by different roads, and both with empty hands. There they found their two branches withered, that of their brother having grown into a splendid tree. Under the shade of the latter he lay sleeping; by his side was the Maid with the Golden Locks; the horse, Zlato-Nrivak, was fastened to a tree, and the fire-bird roosted in his golden cage.The hearts of the two brothers were filled with envious and wicked thoughts, and they whispered thus to one another, “Just think what will become of us—the youngest will receive half of the kingdom during our father’s life and succeed to the throne at his death; why not cut his throat at once? One of us will take the Maid with the Golden Locks, the other can carry the bird to our father and keep the Horse with the Golden Mane; as for the kingdom, we will divide it between us.”After this debate they killed their youngest brother and cut up his body into small pieces, while they threatened to treat Zlato-Vlaska in the same way if she attempted to disobey them.On reaching home they sent the Horse with the Golden Mane to the marble stables, the cage containing Ohnivak was placed in the room where their father lay sick, and the princess was allowed a beautiful suite of apartments and maids of honour to attend her.When the king, who was much weakened by suffering, had looked at the bird, he asked after his youngest son. To which the brothers replied: “We have not seen or heard anything of him, it is very likely that he has been killed.”The poor old man was much affected—it seemed, indeed, as if his last hour had come. The fire-bird moped and refused to sing; the Horse with the Golden Mane stood with his head bent down before his manger, and would eat no food; while Princess Zlato-Vlaska remained as silent as if she had been born dumb, her beautiful hair was neglected and uncombed, and she wept—her tears fell fast.Now as the red fox chanced to pass through the forest he came upon the mangled body of the youngest brother, and he at once set to work to put the scattered pieces together, but was unable to restore them to life. At that moment a raven, accompanied by two young ones, came hovering overhead. The fox crouched behind a bramble bush; and when one of the young birds alighted upon the body to feed, he seized it and made a pretence of strangling it. Upon which the parent bird, full of anxious love and fear, perched upon a branch close by and croaked as if to say, “Let my poor little nestling go. I have done you no harm, neither have I worried you; let him free, and I will take the first opportunity of returning your kindness.”“Just so,” replied the red fox, “for I am greatly in need of some kindness. Now if you will fetch me some of the Water of Death, and some of the Water of Life, from the Red Sea, I will let your nestling go safe and sound.”The old raven promised to fetch the water, and went off at once.Within three days he returned, carrying in his beak two small bottles, one full of the Water of Death, the other of the Water of Life. When the red fox received them he wished first to try their effect upon some living creature, so he cut the small raven up, and joining the pieces together, watered them with the Water of Death. Instantly they became a living bird, without mark or join anywhere. This he sprinkled with the Water of Life, upon which the young raven spread its wings and flew off to its family.The red fox then performed the same operation on the body of the young prince, and with the same happy result, for he rose again perfect in form, and having about him no wound scars. On coming to life again, all he said was, “Dear me! What a pleasant sleep I have had.”“I believe you,” replied the red fox, “you would have gone on sleeping for ever if I had not awakened you. And what a foolish young man you are: did I not particularly order you not to stop anywhere, but to go straight back to your father’s house?”He then related all that his brothers had done, and having obtained a peasant’s dress for him, led him to the outskirts of the forest, close to the royal palace, where he left him.The young prince then entered the palace grounds, unrecognised by the servants, and on representing that he was in need of employment, was appointed stable-boy to the royal stables. Some little time after he heard the grooms lamenting that the Horse with the Golden Mane would eat no food.“What a pity it is,” said they, “that this splendid steed should starve to death; he droops his head and will take nothing.”“Give him,” said the disguised prince, “some pea-straw; I bet you anything he will eat that.”“But do you really think so? Why, our rough draught horses would refuse such coarse food.”The prince’s only answer was to fetch a bundle of pea-straw, which he put into Zlato-Nrivak’s marble trough: then, passing his hand gently over his neck and mane, he said to him, “Grieve no more, my horse with the golden mane.”The beautiful creature recognised his master’s voice, and neighing with joy, greedily devoured the pea-straw.The news was noised about from one end of the palace to the other, and the sick king summoned the boy to his presence.“I hear you have made Zlato-Nrivak eat,” said his majesty; “do you think you could make my fire-bird sing? Go and examine him closely: he is very sad, he droops his wings, and will neither eat nor drink. Ah me! if he dies I shall certainly die too.”“Your majesty may rest assured, the bird will not die. Let him have some husks of barley to eat, then he will soon be all right and begin to sing.”The king ordered them to be brought, and the disguised prince put a handful into Ohnivak’s cage, saying, “Cheer up, my fire-bird.”As soon as Ohnivak heard his master’s voice he shook himself, and made his feathers shine with more than their usual brightness. Then he began to dance about his cage, and pecking up the husks, sang so exquisitely that the king immediately felt better, and it was as if a great weight had been lifted off his heart. The fire-bird again burst into song, and this so affected the king that he sat up quite well, and embraced the disguised prince out of very gratitude.“Now,” said he, “teach me how to restore to health this beautiful maiden with the golden hair whom my sons brought back with them; for she will not speak a word, her beautiful hair remains uncared for, and her tears fall night and day.”“If your majesty will allow me to speak a few words to her, it may be the means of making her bright and happy.”The king himself led the way to her apartments, and the disguised prince, taking her hand, said: “Look up a moment, sweetheart; why these tears? And why grieve thus, dear bride?”The maiden knew him at once, and with a cry of joy threw herself into his arms. This astonished the king mightily, and he could not for the life of him think how a stable-boy dare address such a princess as his “dear bride.”The prince then addressed the king thus: “And are you indeed the only one who does not know me? How is it, my father and sovereign, that you have not recognised your youngest son? I alone have succeeded in obtaining the Fire-Bird, the Horse with the Golden Mane, and the Maid with the Golden Hair.”Thereupon he related all his adventures, and Zlato-Vlaska in her turn told how the wicked brothers had threatened to kill her if she betrayed them. As for these bad men, they shook from head to foot, and trembled like leaves in the wind. The indignant king ordered them to be executed then and there.Not very long after these events the youngest prince married the beautiful Zlato-Vlaska, and the king gave him half of his kingdom as a wedding present. When the old king died he reigned in his stead, and lived happily with the princess ever after.
A Kid was perched up on the top of a house, and looking down saw a Wolf passing under him. Immediately he began to revile and attack his enemy. “Murderer and thief,” he cried, “what do you here near honest folks’ houses? How dare you make an appearance where your vile deeds are known?” “Curse away, my young friend,” said the Wolf. “It is easy to be brave from a safe distance.”
Two parts the serpent has—Of men the enemies—The head and tail: the sameHave won a mighty fame,Next to the cruel Fates;—So that, indeed, henceThey once had great debatesAbout precedence.The first had always gone ahead;The tail had been for ever led;And now to Heaven it pray’d,And said,“O, many and many a league,Dragg’d on in sore fatigue,Behind his back I go.Shall he for ever use me so?Am I his humble servant?No. Thanks to God most fervent!His brother I was born,And not his slave forlorn.The self-same blood in both,I’m just as good as he:A poison dwells in meAs virulent as dothIn him. In mercy, heed,And grant me this decree,That I, in turn, may lead—My brother, follow me.My course shall be so wise,That no complaint shall rise.”With cruel kindness Heaven grantedThe very thing he blindly wanted:At once this novel guide,That saw no more in broad daylightThan in the murk of darkest night,His powers of leading tried,Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks,And led his brother straight to Styx.And to the same unlovely home,Some states by such an error come.
Once upon a time, when the Sun announced his intention to take a wife, the Frogs lifted up their voices in clamor to the sky. Jupiter, disturbed by the noise of their croaking, inquired the cause of their complaint. One of them said, “The Sun, now while he is single, parches up the marsh, and compels us to die miserably in our arid homes. What will be our future condition if he should beget other suns?”
In the beginning, long, long ago, there was but one being in the lower world. This was the spider, Sussistinnako. At that time there were no other insects, no birds, animals, or any other living creature.The spider drew a line of meal from north to south and then crossed it with another line running east and west. On each side of the first line, north of the second, he placed two small parcels. They were precious but no one knows what was in them except Spider. Then he sat down near the parcels and began to sing. The music was low and sweet and the two parcels accompanied him, by shaking like rattles. Then two women appeared, one from each parcel.In a short time people appeared and began walking around. Then animals, birds, and insects appeared, and the spider continued to sing until his creation was complete.But there was no light, and as there were many people, they did not pass about much for fear of treading upon each other. The two women first created were the mothers of all. One was named Utset and she as the mother of all Indians. The other was Now-utset, and she was the mother of all other nations. While it was still dark, the spider divided the people into clans, saying to some, “You are of the Corn clan, and you are the first of all.” To others he said, “You belong to the Coyote clan.” So he divided them into their clans, the clans of the Bear, the Eagle, and other clans.After Spider had nearly created the earth, Ha-arts, he thought it would be well to have rain to water it, so he created the Cloud People, the Lightning People, the Thunder People, and the Rainbow People, to work for the people of Ha-arts, the earth. He divided this creation into six parts, and each had its home in a spring in the heart of a great mountain upon whose summit was a giant tree. One was in the spruce tree on the Mountain of the North; another in the pine tree on the Mountain of the West; another in the oak tree on the Mountain of the South; and another in the aspen tree on the Mountain of the East; the fifth was on the cedar tree on the Mountain of the Zenith; and the last in an oak on the Mountain of the Nadir.The spider divided the world into three parts: Ha-arts, the earth; Tinia, the middle plain; and Hu-wa-ka, the upper plain. Then the spider gave to these People of the Clouds and to the rainbow, Tinia, the middle plain.Now it was still dark, but the people of Ha-arts made houses for themselves by digging in the rocks and the earth. They could not build houses as they do now, because they could not see. In a short time Utset and Now-utset talked much to each other, saying,“We will make light, that our people may see. We cannot tell the people now, but to-morrow will be a good day and the day after to-morrow will be a good day,” meaning that their thoughts were good. So they spoke with one tongue. They said, “Now all is covered with darkness, but after a while we will have light.”Then these two mothers, being inspired by Sussistinnako, the spider, made the sun from white shell, turkis, red stone, and abalone shell. After making the sun, they carried him to the east and camped there, since there were no houses. The next morning they climbed to the top of a high mountain and dropped the sun down behind it. After a time he began to ascend. When the people saw the light they were happy.When the sun was far off, his face was blue; as he came nearer, the face grew brighter. Yet they did not see the sun himself, but only a large mask which covered his whole body.The people saw that the world was large and the country beautiful. When the two mothers returned to the village, they said to the people, “We are the mothers of all.”The sun lighted the world during the day, but there was no light at night. So the two mothers created the moon from a slightly black stone, many kinds of yellow stone, turkis, and a red stone, that the world might be lighted at night. But the moon travelled slowly and did not always give light. Then the two mothers created the Star People and made their eyes of sparkling white crystal that they might twinkle and brighten the world at night. When the Star People lived in the lower world they were gathered into beautiful groups; they were not scattered about as they are in the upper world.Editor’s Note: This tale comes from the Sia of New Mexico.
Long, long ago there was a large plain called Adachigahara, in the province of Mutsu in Japan. This place was said to be haunted by a cannibal goblin who took the form of an old woman. From time to time many travelers disappeared and were never heard of more, and the old women round the charcoal braziers in the evenings, and the girls washing the household rice at the wells in the mornings, whispered dreadful stories of how the missing folk had been lured to the goblin’s cottage and devoured, for the goblin lived only on human flesh. No one dared to venture near the haunted spot after sunset, and all those who could, avoided it in the daytime, and travelers were warned of the dreaded place.One day as the sun was setting, a priest came to the plain. He was a belated traveler, and his robe showed that he was a Buddhist pilgrim walking from shrine to shrine to pray for some blessing or to crave for forgiveness of sins. He had apparently lost his way, and as it was late he met no one who could show him the road or warn him of the haunted spot.He had walked the whole day and was now tired and hungry, and the evenings were chilly, for it was late autumn, and he began to be very anxious to find some house where he could obtain a night’s lodging. He found himself lost in the midst of the large plain, and looked about in vain for some sign of human habitation.At last, after wandering about for some hours, he saw a clump of trees in the distance, and through the trees he caught sight of the glimmer of a single ray of light. He exclaimed with joy:“Oh. surely that is some cottage where I can get a night’s lodging!”Keeping the light before his eyes he dragged his weary, aching feet as quickly as he could towards the spot, and soon came to a miserable-looking little cottage. As he drew near he saw that it was in a tumble-down condition, the bamboo fence was broken and weeds and grass pushed their way through the gaps. The paper screens which serve as windows and doors in Japan were full of holes, and the posts of the house were bent with age and seemed scarcely able to support the old thatched roof. The hut was open, and by the light of an old lantern an old woman sat industriously spinning.The pilgrim called to her across the bamboo fence and said:“O Baa San (old woman), good evening! I am a traveler! Please excuse me, but I have lost my way and do not know what to do, for I have nowhere to rest to-night. I beg you to be good enough to let me spend the night under your roof.”The old woman as soon as she heard herself spoken to stopped spinning, rose from her seat and approached the intruder.“I am very sorry for you. You must indeed be distressed to have lost your way in such a lonely spot so late at night. Unfortunately I cannot put you up, for I have no bed to offer you, and no accommodation whatsoever for a guest in this poor place!”“Oh, that does not matter,” said the priest; “all I want is a shelter under some roof for the night, and if you will be good enough just to let me lie on the kitchen floor I shall be grateful. I am too tired to walk further to-night, so I hope you will not refuse me, otherwise I shall have to sleep out on the cold plain.” And in this way he pressed the old woman to let him stay.She seemed very reluctant, but at last she said:“Very well, I will let you stay here. I can offer you a very poor welcome only, but come in now and I will make a fire, for the night is cold.”The pilgrim was only too glad to do as he was told. He took off his sandals and entered the hut. The old woman then brought some sticks of wood and lit the fire, and bade her guest draw near and warm himself.“You must be hungry after your long tramp,” said the old woman. “I will go and cook some supper for you.” She then went to the kitchen to cook some rice.After the priest had finished his supper the old woman sat down by the fire-place, and they talked together for a long time. The pilgrim thought to himself that he had been very lucky to come across such a kind, hospitable old woman. At last the wood gave out, and as the fire died slowly down he began to shiver with cold just as he had done when he arrived.“I see you are cold,” said the old woman; “I will go out and gather some wood, for we have used it all. You must stay and take care of the house while I am gone.”“No, no,” said the pilgrim, “let me go instead, for you are old, and I cannot think of letting you go out to get wood for me this cold night!”The old woman shook her head and said:“You must stay quietly here, for you are my guest.” Then she left him and went out.In a minute she came back and said:“You must sit where you are and not move, and whatever happens don’t go near or look into the inner room. Now mind what I tell you!”“If you tell me not to go near the back room, of course I won’t,” said the priest, rather bewildered.The old woman then went out again, and the priest was left alone. The fire had died out, and the only light in the hut was that of a dim lantern. For the first time that night he began to feel that he was in a weird place, and the old woman’s words, “Whatever you do don’t peep into the back room,” aroused his curiosity and his fear.What hidden thing could be in that room that she did not wish him to see? For some time the remembrance of his promise to the old woman kept him still, but at last he could no longer resist his curiosity to peep into the forbidden place.He got up and began to move slowly towards the back room. Then the thought that the old woman would be very angry with him if he disobeyed her made him come back to his place by the fireside.As the minutes went slowly by and the old woman did not return, he began to feel more and more frightened, and to wonder what dreadful secret was in the room behind him. He must find out.“She will not know that I have looked unless I tell her. I will just have a peep before she comes back,” said the man to himself.With these words he got up on his feet (for he had been sitting all this time in Japanese fashion with his feet under him) and stealthily crept towards the forbidden spot. With trembling hands he pushed back the sliding door and looked in. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. The room was full of dead men’s bones and the walls were splashed and the floor was covered with human blood. In one corner skull upon skull rose to the ceiling, in another was a heap of arm bones, in another a heap of leg bones. The sickening smell made him faint. He fell backwards with horror, and for some time lay in a heap with fright on the floor, a pitiful sight. He trembled all over and his teeth chattered, and he could hardly crawl away from the dreadful spot.“How horrible!” he cried out. “What awful den have I come to in my travels? May Buddha help me or I am lost. Is it possible that that kind old woman is really the cannibal goblin? When she comes back she will show herself in her true character and eat me up at one mouthful!”With these words his strength came back to him and, snatching up his hat and staff, he rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him. Out into the night he ran, his one thought to get as far as he could from the goblin’s haunt. He had not gone far when he heard steps behind him and a voice crying: “Stop! stop!”He ran on, redoubling his speed, pretending not to hear. As he ran he heard the steps behind him come nearer and nearer, and at last he recognized the old woman’s voice which grew louder and louder as she came nearer.“Stop! stop, you wicked man, why did you look into the forbidden room?”The priest quite forgot how tired he was and his feet flew over the ground faster than ever. Fear gave him strength, for he knew that if the goblin caught him he would soon be one of her victims. With all his heart he repeated the prayer to Buddha:“Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu.”And after him rushed the dreadful old hag, her hair flying in the wind, and her face changing with rage into the demon that she was. In her hand she carried a large blood-stained knife, and she still shrieked after him, “Stop! stop!”At last, when the priest felt he could run no more, the dawn broke, and with the darkness of night the goblin vanished and he was safe. The priest now knew that he had met the Goblin of Adachigahara, the story of whom he had often heard but never believed to be true. He felt that he owed his wonderful escape to the protection of Buddha to whom he had prayed for help, so he took out his rosary and bowing his head as the sun rose he said his prayers and made his thanksgiving earnestly. He then set forward for another part of the country, only too glad to leave the haunted plain behind him.
THE country was stricken with a drought. The rivers were all dry except the deepest holes in them. The grass was dead, and even the trees were dying. The bark dardurr of the blacks were all fallen to the ground and lay there rotting, so long was it since they had been used, for only in wet weather did the blacks use the bark dardurr; at other times they used only whatdooral, or bough shades.The young men of the Noongahburrah murmured among themselves, at first secretly, at last openly, saying: “Did not our fathers always say that the Wirreenun could make, as we wanted it, the rain to fall? Yet look at our country -the grass blown away, no doonburr seed to grind, the kangaroo are dying, and the emu, the duck, and the swan have flown to far countries. We shall have no food soon; then shall we die, and the Noongahburrah be no more seen on the Narrin. Then why, if he is able, does not Wirreenun inake rain?”Soon these murmurs reached the ears of the old Wirreenun. He said nothing, but the young fellows noticed that for two or three days in succession he went to the waterhole in the creek and placed in it a willgoo willgoo-a long stick, ornamented at the top with white cockatoo feathers-and beside the stick he placed two big gubberah, that is, two big, clear pebbles which at other times he always secreted about him, in the folds of his waywah, or in the band or net on his head. Especially was he careful to hide these stones from the women.At the end of the third day Wirreenun said to the young men: “Go you, take your comeboos and cut bark sufficient to make dardurr for all the tribe.”The young men did as they were bade. When they had the bark cut and brought in Wirreenun said: “Go you now and raise with ant-bed a high place, and put thereon logs and wood for a fire, build the ant-bed about a foot from the ground. Then put you a floor of ant-bed a foot high whereever you are going to build a dardurr.”And they did what he told them. When the dardurr were finished, having high floors of ant-bed and water-tight roofs of bark, Wirreenun commanded the whole camp to come with him to the waterhole; men, women, and children; all were to come. They all followed him down to the creek, to the waterhole where he had placed the willgoo willgoo and gubberah. Wirreenun jumped into the water and bade the tribe follow him, which they did. There in the water they all splashed and played about. After a little time Wirreenun went up first behind one black fellow and then behind another, until at length he had been round them all, and taken from the back of each one’s head lumps of charcoal. When he went up to each he appeared to suck the back or top of their heads, and to draw out lumps of charcoal, which, as he sucked them out, he spat into the water. When he had gone the round of all, he went out of the water. But just as he got out a young man caught him up in his arms and threw him back into the water. This happened several times, until Wirreenun was shivering. That was the signal for all to leave the creek. Wirreenun sent all the young people into a big bough shed, and bade them all go to sleep. He and two old men and two old women stayed outside. They loaded themselves with all their belongings piled up on their backs, dayoorl stones and all, as if ready for a flitting. These old people walked impatiently around the bough shed as if waiting a signal to start somewhere. Soon a big black cloud appeared on the horizon, first a single cloud, which, however, was soon followed by others rising all round. They rose quickly until they all met just overhead, forming a big black mass of clouds. As soon as this big, heavy, rainladen looking cloud was stationary overhead, the old people went into the bough shed and bade the young people wake up and come out and look at the sky. When they were all roused Wirreenun told them to lose no time, but to gather together all their possessions and hasten to gain the shelter of the bark dardurr. Scarcely were they all in the dardurrs and their spears well hidden when there sounded a terrific clap of thunder, which was quickly followed by a regular cannonade, lightning flashes shooting across the sky, followed by instantaneous claps of deafening thunder. A sudden flash of lightning, which lit a pathway, from heaven to earth, was followed by such a terrific clash that the blacks thought their very camps were struck. But it was a tree a little distance off. The blacks huddled together in their dardurrs, frightened to move, the children crying with fear, and the dogs crouching towards their owners.“We shall be killed,” shrieked the women. The men said nothing but looked as frightened.Only Wirreenun was fearless. “I will go out,” he said, “and stop the storm from hurting us. The lightning shall come no nearer.”So out in front of the dardurrs strode Wirreenun, and naked he stood there facing the storm, singing aloud, as the thunder roared and the lightning flashed, the chant which was to keep it away from the camp“Gurreemooray, mooray,Durreemooray, mooray, mooray,” &c.Soon came a lull in the cannonade, a slight breeze stirred the trees for a few moments, then an oppressive silence, and then the rain in real earnest began, and settled down to a steady downpour, which lasted for some days.When the old people had been patrolling the bough shed as the clouds rose overhead, Wirreenun had gone to the waterhole and taken out the willgoo willgoo and the stones, for he saw by the cloud that their work was done.When the rain was over and the country all green again, the blacks had a great corrobboree and sang of the skill of Wirreenun, rainmaker to the Noongahburrah.Wirreenun sat calm and heedless of their praise, as he had been of their murmurs. But he determined to show them that his powers were great, so he summoned the rainmaker of a neighbouring tribe, and after some consultation with him, he ordered the tribes to go to the Googoorewon, which was then a dry plain, with the solemn, gaunt trees all round it, which had once been black fellows.When they were all camped round the edges of this plain, Wirreenun and his fellow rainmaker made a great rain to fall just over the plain and fill it with water.When the plain was changed into a lake, Wirreenun said to the young men of his tribe: “Now take your nets and fish.”“What good?” said they. “The lake is filled from the rain, not the flood water of rivers, filled but yesterday, how then shall there be fish?”“Go,” said Wirreenun. “Go as I bid you; fish. If your nets catch nothing then shall Wirreenun speak no more to the men of his tribe, he will seek only honey and yams with the women.”More to please the man who had changed their country from a desert to a hunter’s paradise, they did as he bade them, took their nets and went into the lake. And the first time they drew their nets, they were heavy with goodoo, murree, tucki, and bunmillah. And so many did they catch that all the tribes, and their dogs, had plenty.Then the elders of the camp said now that there was plenty everywhere, they would have a borah that the boys should be made young men. On one of the ridges away from the camp, that the women should not know, would they prepare a ground.And so was the big borah of the Googoorewon held, the borah which was famous as following on the triumph of Wirreenun the rainmaker.
Once upon a time in China, there lived a certain king who had three daughters. The fairest and best of these was Kwan-yin, the youngest. The old king was justly proud of this daughter, for of all the women who had ever lived in the palace she was by far the most attractive. It did not take him long, therefore, to decide that she should be the heir to his throne, and her husband ruler of his kingdom. But, strange to say, Kwan-yin was not pleased at this good fortune. She cared little for the pomp and splendour of court life. She foresaw no pleasure for herself in ruling as a queen, but even feared that in so high a station she might feel out of place and unhappy.Every day she went to her room to read and study. As a result of this daily labour she soon went far beyond her sisters along the paths of knowledge, and her name was known in the farthest corner of the kingdom as “Kwan-yin, the wise princess.” Besides being very fond of books, Kwan-yin was thoughtful of her friends. She was careful about her behaviour both in public and in private. Her warm heart was open at all times to the cries of those in trouble. She was kind to the poor and suffering. She won the love of the lower classes, and was to them a sort of goddess to whom they could appeal whenever they were hungry and in need. Some people even believed that she was a fairy who had come to earth from her home within the Western Heaven, while others said that once, long years before, she had lived in the world as a prince instead of a princess. However this may be, one thing is certain—Kwan-yin was pure and good, and well deserved the praises that were showered upon her.One day the king called this favourite daughter to the royal bedside, for he felt that the hour of death was drawing near. Kwan-yin kowtowed before her royal father, kneeling and touching her forehead on the floor in sign of deepest reverence. The old man bade her rise and come closer. Taking her hand tenderly in his own, he said, “Daughter, you know well how I love you. Your modesty and virtue, your talent and your love of knowledge, have made you first in my heart. As you know already, I chose you as heir to my kingdom long ago. I promised that your husband should be made ruler in my stead. The time is almost ripe for me to ascend upon the dragon and become a guest on high. It is necessary that you be given at once in marriage.”“But, most exalted father,” faltered the princess, “I am not ready to be married.”“Not ready, child! Why, are you not eighteen? Are not the daughters of our nation often wedded long before they reach that age? Because of your desire for learning I have spared you thus far from any thought of a husband, but now we can wait no longer.”“Royal father, hear your child, and do not compel her to give up her dearest pleasures. Let her go into a quiet convent where she may lead a life of study!”The king sighed deeply at hearing these words. He loved his daughter and did not wish to wound her. “Kwan-yin,” he continued, “do you wish to pass by the green spring of youth, to give up this mighty kingdom? Do you wish to enter the doors of a convent where women say farewell to life and all its pleasures? No! your father will not permit this. It grieves me sorely to disappoint you, but one month from this very day you shall be married. I have chosen for your royal partner a man of many noble parts. You know him by name already, although you have not seen him. Remember that, of the hundred virtues filial conduct is the chief, and that you owe more to me than to all else on earth.”Kwan-yin turned pale. Trembling, she would have sunk to the floor, but her mother and sisters supported her, and by their tender care brought her back to consciousness.Every day of the month that followed, Kwan-yin’s relatives begged her to give up what they called her foolish notion. Her sisters had long since given up hope of becoming queen. They were amazed at her stupidity. The very thought of any one’s choosing a convent instead of a throne was to them a sure sign of madness. Over and over again they asked her reason for making so strange a choice. To every question, she shook her head, replying, “A voice from the heavens speaks to me, and I must obey it.”On the eve of the wedding day Kwan-yin slipped out of the palace, and, after a weary journey, arrived at a convent called, “The Cloister of the White Sparrow.” She was dressed as a poor maiden. She said she wished to become a nun. The abbess, not knowing who she was, did not receive her kindly. Indeed, she told Kwan-yin that they could not receive her into the sisterhood, that the building was full. Finally, after Kwan-yin had shed many tears, the abbess let her enter, but only as a sort of servant, who might be cast out for the slightest fault.Now that Kwan-yin found herself in the life which she had long dreamt of leading, she tried to be satisfied. But the nuns seemed to wish to make her stay among them most miserable. They gave her the hardest tasks to do, and it was seldom that she had a minute to rest. All day long she was busy, carrying water from a well at the foot of the convent hill or gathering wood from a neighbouring forest. At night when her back was almost breaking, she was given many extra tasks, enough to have crushed the spirit of any other woman than this brave daughter of a king. Forgetting her grief, and trying to hide the lines of pain that sometimes wrinkled her fair forehead, she tried to make these hard-hearted women love her. In return for their rough words, she spoke to them kindly, and never did she give way to anger.One day while poor Kwan-yin was picking up brushwood in the forest she heard a tiger making his way through the bushes. Having no means of defending herself, she breathed a silent prayer to the gods for help, and calmly awaited the coming of the great beast. To her surprise, when the bloodthirsty animal appeared, instead of bounding up to tear her in pieces, he began to make a soft purring noise. He did not try to hurt Kwan-yin, but rubbed against her in a friendly manner, and let her pat him on the head.The next day the princess went back to the same spot. There she found no fewer than a dozen savage beasts working under the command of the friendly tiger, gathering wood for her. In a short time enough brush and firewood had been piled up to last the convent for six months. Thus, even the wild animals of the forest were better able to judge of her goodness than the women of the sisterhood.At another time when Kwan-yin was toiling up the hill for the twentieth time, carrying two great pails of water on a pole, an enormous dragon faced her in the road. Now, in China, the dragon is sacred, and Kwan-yin was not at all frightened, for she knew that she had done no wrong.The animal looked at her for a moment, switched its horrid tail, and shot out fire from its nostrils. Then, dashing the burden from the startled maiden’s shoulder, it vanished. Full of fear, Kwan-yin hurried up the hill to the nunnery. As she drew near the inner court, she was amazed to see in the centre of the open space a new building of solid stone. It had sprung up by magic since her last journey down the hill. On going forward, she saw that there were four arched doorways to the fairy house. Above the door facing west was a tablet with these words written on it: “In honour of Kwan-yin, the faithful princess.” Inside was a well of the purest water, while, for drawing this water, there a strange machine, the like of which neither Kwan-yin nor the nuns had ever seen.The sisters knew that this magic well was a monument to Kwan-yin’s goodness. For a few days they treated her much better. “Since the gods have dug a well at our very gate,” they said, “this girl will no longer need to bear water from the foot of the hill. For what strange reason, however, did the gods write this beggar’s name on the stone?”Kwan-yin heard their unkind remarks in silence. She could have explained the meaning of the dragon’s gift, but she chose to let her companions remain in ignorance. At last the selfish nuns began to grow careless again, and treated her even worse than before. They could not bear to see the poor girl enjoy a moment’s idleness.“This is a place for work,” they told her. “All of us have laboured hard to win our present station. You must do likewise.” So they robbed her of every chance for study and prayer, and gave her no credit for the magic well.One night the sisters were awakened from their sleep by strange noises, and soon they heard outside the walls of the compound the blare of a trumpet. A great army had been sent by Kwan-yin’s father to attack the convent, for his spies had at last been able to trace the runaway princess to this holy retreat.“Oh, who has brought this woe upon us?” exclaimed all the women, looking at each other in great fear. “Who has done this great evil? There is one among us who has sinned most terribly, and now the gods are about to destroy us.” They gazed at one another, but no one thought of Kwan-yin, for they did not believe her of enough importance to attract the anger of heaven, even though she might have done the most shocking of deeds. Then, too, she had been so meek and lowly while in their holy order that they did not once dream of charging her with any crime.The threatening sounds outside grew louder and louder. All at once a fearful cry arose among the women: “They are about to burn our sacred dwelling.” Smoke was rising just beyond the enclosure where the soldiers were kindling a great fire, the heat of which would soon be great enough to make the convent walls crumble into dust.Suddenly a voice was heard above the tumult of the weeping sisters: “Alas! I am the cause of all this trouble.”The nuns, turning in amazement, saw that it was Kwan-yin who was speaking. “You?” they exclaimed, astounded.“Yes, I, for I am indeed the daughter of a king. My father did not wish me to take the vows of this holy order. I fled from the palace. He has sent his army here to burn these buildings and to drag me back a prisoner.”“Then, see what you have brought upon us, miserable girl!” exclaimed the abbess. “See how you have repaid our kindness! Our buildings will be burned above our heads! How wretched you have made us! May heaven’s curses rest upon you!”“No, no!” exclaimed Kwan-yin, springing up, and trying to keep the abbess from speaking these frightful words. “You have no right to say that, for I am innocent of evil. But, wait! You shall soon see whose prayers the gods will answer, yours or mine!” So saying, she pressed her forehead to the floor, praying the almighty powers to save the convent and the sisters.Outside the crackling of the greedy flames could already be heard. The fire king would soon destroy every building on that hill-top. Mad with terror, the sisters prepared to leave the compound and give up all their belongings to the cruel flames and still more cruel soldiers. Kwan-yin alone remained in the room, praying earnestly for help.Suddenly a soft breeze sprang up from the neighbouring forest, dark clouds gathered overhead, and, although it was the dry season a drenching shower descended on the flames. Within five minutes the fire was put out and the convent was saved. Just as the shivering nuns were thanking Kwan-yin for the divine help she had brought them, two soldiers who had scaled the outer wall of the compound came in and roughly asked for the princess.The trembling girl, knowing that these men were obeying her father’s orders, poured out a prayer to the gods, and straightway made herself known. They dragged her from the presence of the nuns who had just begun to love her. Thus disgraced before her father’s army, she was taken to the capital.On the morrow, she was led before the old king. The father gazed sadly at his daughter, and then the stern look of a judge hardened his face as he beckoned the guards to bring her forward.From a neighbouring room came the sounds of sweet music. A feast was being served there amid great splendour. The loud laughter of the guests reached the ears of the young girl as she bowed in disgrace before her father’s throne. She knew that this feast had been prepared for her, and that her father was willing to give her one more chance.“Girl,” said the king, at last regaining his voice, “in leaving the royal palace on the eve of your wedding day, not only did you insult your father, but your king. For this act you deserve to die. However, because of the excellent record you had made for yourself before you ran away, I have decided to give you one more chance to redeem yourself. Refuse me, and the penalty is death: obey me, and all may yet be well—the kingdom that you spurned is still yours for the asking. All that I require is your marriage to the man whom I have chosen.”“And when, most august King, would you have me decide?” asked Kwan-yin earnestly.“This very day, this very hour, this very moment,” he answered sternly. “What! would you hesitate between love upon a throne and death? Speak, my daughter, tell me that you love me and will do my bidding!”It was now all that Kwan-yin could do to keep from throwing herself at her father’s feet and yielding to his wishes, not because he offered her a kingdom, but because she loved him and would gladly have made him happy. But her strong will kept her from relenting. No power on earth could have stayed her from doing what she thought her duty.“Beloved father,” she answered sadly, and her voice was full of tenderness, “it is not a question of my love for you—of that there is no question, for all my life I have shown it in every action. Believe me, if I were free to do your bidding, gladly would I make you happy, but a voice from the gods has spoken, has commanded that I remain a virgin, that I devote my life to deeds of mercy. When heaven itself has commanded, what can even a princess do but listen to that power which rules the earth?”The old king was far from satisfied with Kwan-yin’s answer. He grew furious, his thin wrinkled skin turned purple as the hot blood rose to his head. “Then you refuse to do my bidding! Take her, men! Give to her the death that is due to a traitor to the king!” As they bore Kwan-yin away from his presence the white-haired monarch fell, swooning, from his chair.That night, when Kwan-yin was put to death, she descended into the lower world of torture. No sooner had she set foot in that dark country of the dead than the vast region of endless punishment suddenly blossomed forth and became like the gardens of Paradise. Pure white lilies sprang up on every side, and the odour of a million flowers filled all the rooms and corridors. King Yama, ruler of the dominion, rushed forth to learn the cause of this wonderful change. No sooner did his eyes rest upon the fair young face of Kwan-yin than he saw in her the emblem of a purity which deserved no home but heaven.“Beautiful virgin, doer of many mercies,” he began, after addressing her by her title, “I beg you in the name of justice to depart from this bloody kingdom. It is not right that the fairest flower of heaven should enter and shed her fragrance in these halls. Guilt must suffer here, and sin find no reward. Depart thou, then, from my dominion. The peach of immortal life shall be bestowed upon you, and heaven alone shall be your dwelling place.”Thus Kwan-yin became the Goddess of Mercy; thus she entered into that glad abode, surpassing all earthly kings and queens. And ever since that time, on account of her exceeding goodness, thousands of poor people breathe out to her each year their prayers for mercy. There is no fear in their gaze as they look at her beautiful image, for their eyes are filled with tears of love.
Far away in the Canadian North Country an old man lived with his wife and children. They lived far from other people, but they were never lonely, for they had much work to do. The old man was a great hunter, and in summer he and his wife and children lived on the fish and game he captured in the winter. In the springtime he gathered sap from the maple trees, from which he made maple syrup and maple sugar with which to sweeten their food. One day in summer he found three small bears eating his stock of sugar. When he came upon them, his sugar was all gone, and he was very cross. With a stout club he killed the little bears and skinned them and dried their meat. But his wife said, “No good can come of it. You should not have killed the three little bears, for they were too young for slaughter.”The next day the old Bear came along, looking for his lost children. When he saw their skins hanging up to dry he knew that they had been killed by the hunter. He was very sad and angry, and he called to the hunter, “You have killed my little motherless cubs, and in return for that wickedness, some night when you are off your guard, I will kill your children, and then I will kill you and your wife, and I will devour all your food.” The old man shot at him with his arrows, but the arrows did not harm him, for he was Brown Bear of the Stony Heart, and he could not be killed by man. For many nights and days the old man tried to trap him, but he met with no success. And each day he saw his store of food growing smaller, for Bear of the Stony Heart always stole it in the night. And he thought, “We shall all surely starve before the winter comes, and game is plentiful again.”One day in despair, he resolved to look about him for someone who would tell him how to kill the Bear. He went to the bank of the river and sat there in thought and smoked long at his pipe. And he called to the God of the River and said, “Oh, River-God, help me to drown Bear when he comes to fish.” The river came from the Lime Stone country far back among the rocks, and it was flowing rapidly to the sea.And the River-God said, “My water cannot tarry. There are millions of oysters down on the ocean shore waiting for shells, and I am hurrying down there with the lime to make them,” and he rushed quickly past.Then the old man called to the Spirit of the Wind, and he said, “Oh, Spirit of the Wind, stay here with me tonight and help me to kill Bear of the Stony Heart. You can knock down great trees upon his back and crush him to the earth.”But the Wind Spirit said, “I cannot linger. Many ships with rich cargoes lie silent on the ocean waiting to sail, and I must hurry along with the force to drive them.” And like the River-God he hastened on his way.Then the old man called to Storm Cloud, which was just then passing over his head, and he said, “Oh, Spirit of the Storm Cloud, stay here with me tonight and help me to kill Bear of the Stony Heart, for he seeks to destroy my children. You can send lightning and thunder to strike him dead.”But the Storm Cloud said, “I cannot loiter on the way. Far from here there are millions of blades of corn and grass dying from thirst in the summer heat, for I see the heat waves rising on the earth, and I am hurrying there with rain to save them.” And like the River-God and the Wind Spirit he hurried along on his business. The poor old man was in great sorrow, for it seemed that no one would help him to rid the land of Bear of the Stony Heart.As he sat wondering what he should do, an old woman came along. She said, “I am very hungry and tired, for I have come far. Will you give me food and let me rest here a while?” And he said, “We have very little food, for Bear of the Stony Heart steals it from us nightly, but you may share with us what little we have.”So he went away and brought back to her a good fat meal. While she was eating her dinner he told her of his troubles with Bear, and he said that no one would help him to get rid of the pest, and that Bear could not be killed by man.And the old woman said, “There is a little animal who can kill Bear of the Stony Heart. He alone can save you. You have done well to me. Here is a wand which I will give you. Go to sleep here, soon, on the bank of the river. Wave this wand before you sleep and say what I shall teach you, and when you awake call to you the first animal you see when you open your eyes. He will be the animal of which I speak, and he will rid you of the Bear.” She taught him a little rhyme and gave him a wand which she took from the basket on her arm; then she hobbled away, and the old man knew that she was the weird woman of the Fairy Blue Mountain, of whom he had often heard. He marvelled greatly, but he resolved to do as she had told him.After the old woman had gone, the man waved the little wand three times, and cried:“Animal, animal, come from your lair, Help me to slaughter the old Brown Bear! Make with my magic a little white dart, To pierce in the centre old Bear’s Stony Heart!”He repeated the rhyme three times. Then he felt himself getting drowsy and sleep soon came upon him. He slept but a short time when the heat woke him up, for the hot sun beat down upon him. He rubbed his eyes and looked about him. Watching him from behind a tree was a little animal with a shaggy brown coat. The old man thought to himself, “Surely the weird fairy woman of the Blue Mountain has played a trick on me. That scraggy little animal with the dirty coat cannot kill the Bear.” But he resolved to test her word. He repeated his rhyme again, and the little animal came quickly towards him.“Who are you?” said the man.“I am Ermine,” said the little animal.“Are you the animal of which the fairy woman of the Blue Hills has told me?” asked the man.“I am indeed the same,” said Ermine. “I have been sent to you to kill the Bear, and here I have the little darts made powerful because of your magic wand.” He pointed to his mouth and showed the old man his sharp white teeth. “So now to your task,” said the old man in high spirits. “Oh, not so fast,” said Ermine, “you must first pay me for my work.”“What can I do for you?” asked the man.“I am ashamed of my dirty brown coat, which I have worn for a long time,” said the animal; “you have great magic from the wand you received from the fairy woman of the Blue Hills. I want a sleek and shining white coat that I can wear always, for I want to be clean.”The man waved his wand again and wished for what the animal had asked him, and at once the shaggy brown coat of Ermine was replaced by a sleek and shining white coat as spotless as the new snow in winter. Then the animal said, “I have one more condition to impose on you. You must promise never to kill a bear’s young cubs when they are still following their mother in the summer time. You must give them a chance to grow strong, so that they may be able to fight for their own lives.” And the man promised, placing his hand upon the wand to bind his oath. Then, when he looked again, the wand had vanished from his hand. It had gone back through the air to the fairy woman of the Blue Hills.Then Ermine set out on his search for Bear. The afternoon was very hot, and the forest was still, and not a leaf or a blade of grass was stirring, and there was not a ripple on the stream. The whole world was drowsy in the dry summer heat. But Ermine did not feel the heat, he was in such high spirits because of his new white coat. Soon he came upon Bear, stretched out at full length on the bank of the river, taking his afternoon nap, as was his custom after his fat midday meal. He was lying on his back, and his mouth was open wide, and he was snoring loudly like a waterfall.“This is your last sleep,” said Ermine, creeping softly to his side, “for you are a dangerous thief; you shall snore no more.” And with a bound he jumped down Bear’s throat, and in an instant had pierced with his teeth his strong stony heart, which the arrows of the Indians could never reach. Then as quickly as he had entered the Bear’s mouth, Ermine jumped out again and ran from the place. Bear snored no more; he was quite dead, and the land was rid of his thefts and terrors.Then Ermine went back to the old man and told him that the deed was done; and that night was a great feast night in the old man’s home. And since that time Ermine in the North Country has worn a sleek white coat as spotless as the new snow in winter. And to this day the hunters in the far north will not kill, if they can avoid it, the young Bear cubs while they are still following their mothers through the forest. They give them a chance to grow up and grow strong, so that they may be able to fight for their own lives, as the fairy woman of the Blue Hills had asked.
There was once a young huntsman who went into the forest to lie in wait. He had a fresh and joyous heart, and as he was going thither, whistling upon a leaf, an ugly old crone came up, who spoke to him and said, “Good-day, dear huntsman, truly you are merry and contented, but I am suffering from hunger and thirst, do give me an alms.”The huntsman had compassion on the poor old creature, felt in his pocket, and gave her what he could afford. He was then about to go further, but the old woman stopped him and said, “Listen, dear huntsman, to what I tell you; I will make you a present in return for your kindness. Go on your way now, but in a little while you will come to a tree, whereon nine birds are sitting which have a cloak in their claws, and are plucking at it; take your gun and shoot into the midst of them, they will let the cloak fall down to you, but one of the birds will be hurt, and will drop down dead. Carry away the cloak, it is a wishing-cloak; when you throw it over your shoulders, you only have to wish to be in a certain place, and you will be there in the twinkling of an eye. Take out the heart of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and every morning early, when you get up, you will find a gold piece under your pillow.”The huntsman thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself, “Those are fine things that she has promised me, if all does but come true.”And verily when he had walked about a hundred paces, he heard in the branches above him such a screaming and twittering that he looked up and saw there a crowd of birds who were tearing a piece of cloth about with their beaks and claws, and tugging and fighting as if each wanted to have it all to himself.“Well,” said the huntsman, “this is wonderful, it has really come to pass just as the old wife foretold!” and he took the gun from his shoulder, aimed and fired right into the midst of them, so that the feathers flew about. The birds instantly took to flight with loud outcries, but one dropped down dead, and the cloak fell at the same time. Then the huntsman did as the old woman had directed him, cut open the bird, sought the heart, swallowed it down, and took the cloak home with him.Next morning, when he awoke, the promise occurred to him, and he wished to see if it also had been fulfilled. When he lifted up the pillow, the gold piece shone in his eyes, and next day he found another, and so it went on, every time he got up. He gathered together a heap of gold, but at last he thought, “Of what use is all my gold to me if I stay at home? I will go forth and see the world.”He then took leave of his parents, buckled on his huntsman’s pouch and gun, and went out into the world. It came to pass, that one day he travelled through a dense forest, and when he came to the end of it, in the plain before him stood a fine castle. An old woman was standing with a wonderfully beautiful maiden, looking out of one of the windows.The old woman, however, was a witch and said to the maiden, “There comes one out of the forest, who has a wonderful treasure in his body, we must filch it from him, my dear daughter, it is more suitable for us than for him. He has a bird’s heart about him, by means of which a gold piece lies every morning under his pillow.”She told her what she was to do to get it, and what part she had to play, and finally threatened her, and said with angry eyes, “And if you do not attend to what I say, it will be the worse for you.”Now when the huntsman came nearer he descried the maiden, and said to himself, “I have travelled about for such a long time, I will take a rest for once, and enter that beautiful castle. I have certainly money enough.” Nevertheless, the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty girl.He entered the house, and was well received and courteously entertained. Before long he was so much in love with the young witch that he no longer thought of anything else, and only saw things as she saw them, and did what she desired.The old woman then said, “Now we must have the bird’s heart, he will never miss it.” She prepared a drink, and when it was ready, poured it into a cup and gave it to the maiden, who was to present it to the huntsman. She did so, saying, “Now, my dearest, drink to me.”So he took the cup, and when he had swallowed the draught, he brought up the heart of the bird. The girl had to take it away secretly and swallow it herself, for the old woman would have it so. Thenceforward he found no more gold under his pillow, but it lay instead under that of the maiden, from whence the old woman fetched it away every morning; but he was so much in love and so befooled, that he thought of nothing else but of passing his time with the girl.Then the old witch said, “We have the bird’s heart, but we must also take the wishing-cloak away from him.”The girl answered, “We will leave him that, he has lost his wealth.” The old woman was angry and said, “Such a mantle is a wonderful thing, and is seldom to be found in this world. I must and will have it!”She gave the girl several blows, and said that if she did not obey, it should fare ill with her. So she did the old woman’s bidding, placed herself at the window and looked on the distant country, as if she were very sorrowful.The huntsman asked, “Why dost thou stand there so sorrowfully?” “Ah, my beloved,” was her answer, “over yonder lies the Garnet Mountain, where the precious stones grow. I long for them so much that when I think of them, I feel quite sad, but who can get them? Only the birds; they fly and can reach them, but a man never.”“Hast thou nothing else to complain of?” said the huntsman. “I will soon remove that burden from thy heart.”With that he drew her under his mantle, wished himself on the Garnet Mountain, and in the twinkling of an eye they were sitting on it together. Precious stones were glistening on every side so that it was a joy to see them, and together they gathered the finest and costliest of them.Now, the old woman had, through her sorceries, contrived that the eyes of the huntsman should become heavy. He said to the maiden, “We will sit down and rest awhile, I am so tired that I can no longer stand on my feet.” Then they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap, and fell asleep. When he was asleep, she unfastened the mantle from his shoulders, and wrapped herself in it, picked up the garnets and stones, and wished herself back at home with them.But when the huntsman had had his sleep out and awoke, and perceived that his sweetheart had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild mountain, he said, “Oh, what treachery there is in the world!” and sat down there in care and sorrow, not knowing what to do. But the mountain belonged to some wild and monstrous giants who dwelt thereon and lived their lives there, and he had not sat long before he saw three of them coming towards him, so he lay down as if he were sunk in a deep sleep.Then the giants came up, and the first kicked him with his foot and said, “What sort of an earth-worm is lying curled up here?”The second said, “Step upon him and kill him.”But the third said, “That would indeed be worth your while; just let him live, he cannot remain here; and when he climbs higher, toward the summit of the mountain, the clouds will lay hold of him and bear him away.”So saying they passed by. But the huntsman had paid heed to their words, and as soon as they were gone, he rose and climbed up to the summit of the mountain, and when he had sat there a while, a cloud floated towards him, caught him up, carried him away, and travelled about for a long time in the heavens. Then it sank lower, and let itself down on a great cabbage-garden, girt round by walls, so that he came softly to the ground on cabbages and vegetables.Then the huntsman looked about him and said, “If I had but something to eat! I am so hungry, and my hunger will increase in course of time; but I see here neither apples nor pears, nor any other sort of fruit, everywhere nothing but cabbages,” but at length he thought, “At a pinch I can eat some of the leaves, they do not taste particularly good, but they will refresh me.”With that he picked himself out a fine head of cabbage, and ate it, but scarcely had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very strange and quite different. Four legs grew on him, a large head and two thick ears, and he saw with horror that he was changed into an ass. Still as his hunger increased every minute, and as the juicy leaves were suitable to his present nature, he went on eating with great zest. At last he arrived at a different kind of cabbage, but as soon as he had swallowed it, he again felt a change, and reassumed his former human shape.Then the huntsman lay down and slept off his fatigue. When he awoke next morning, he broke off one head of the bad cabbages and another of the good ones, and thought to himself, “This shall help me to get my own again and punish treachery.”Then he took the cabbages with him, climbed over the wall, and went forth to seek for the castle of his sweetheart. After wandering about for a couple of days he was lucky enough to find it again. He dyed his face brown, so that his own mother would not have known him; and begged for shelter: “I am so tired,” said he, “that I can go no further.”The witch asked, “Who are you, countryman, and what is your business?” “I am a king’s messenger, and was sent out to seek the most delicious salad which grows beneath the sun. I have even been so fortunate as to find it, and am carrying it about with me; but the heat of the sun is so intense that the delicate cabbage threatens to wither, and I do not know if I can carry it any further.”When the old woman heard of the exquisite salad, she was greedy, and said, “Dear countryman, let me just taste this wonderful salad.”“Why not?” answered he, “I have brought two heads with me, and will give you one of them,” and he opened his pouch and handed her the bad cabbage. The witch suspected nothing amiss, and her mouth watered so for this new dish that she herself went into the kitchen and dressed it. When it was prepared she could not wait until it was set on the table, but took a couple of leaves at once, and put them in her mouth, but hardly had she swallowed them than she was deprived of her human shape, and she ran out into the courtyard in the form of an ass.Presently the maid-servant entered the kitchen, saw the salad standing there ready prepared, and was about to carry it up; but on the way, according to habit, she was seized by the desire to taste, and she ate a couple of leaves. Instantly the magic power showed itself, and she likewise became an ass and ran out to the old woman, and the dish of salad fell to the ground.Meantime the messenger sat beside the beautiful girl, and as no one came with the salad and she also was longing for it, she said, “I don’t know what has become of the salad.” The huntsman thought, “The salad must have already taken effect,” and said, “I will go to the kitchen and inquire about it.”As he went down he saw the two asses running about in the courtyard; the salad, however, was lying on the ground. “All right,” said he, “the two have taken their portion,” and he picked up the other leaves, laid them on the dish, and carried them to the maiden. “I bring you the delicate food myself,” said he, “in order that you may not have to wait longer.” Then she ate of it, and was, like the others, immediately deprived of her human form, and ran out into the courtyard in the shape of an ass.After the huntsman had washed his face, so that the transformed ones could recognize him, he went down into the courtyard, and said, “Now you shall receive the wages of your treachery,” and bound them together, all three with one rope, and drove them along until he came to a mill. He knocked at the window, the miller put out his head, and asked what he wanted. “I have three unmanageable beasts,” answered he, “which I don’t want to keep any longer. Will you take them in, and give them food and stable room, and manage them as I tell you, and then I will pay you what you ask.”The miller said, “Why not? But how am I to manage them?”The huntsman then said that he was to give three beatings and one meal daily to the old donkey, and that was the witch; one beating and three meals to the younger one, which was the servant-girl; and to the youngest, which was the maiden, no beatings and three meals, for he could not bring himself to have the maiden beaten. After that he went back into the castle, and found therein everything he needed.After a couple of days, the miller came and said he must inform him that the old ass which had received three beatings and only one meal daily was dead; “the two others,” he continued, “are certainly not dead, and are fed three times daily, but they are so sad that they cannot last much longer.”The huntsman was moved to pity, put away his anger, and told the miller to drive them back again to him. And when they came, he gave them some of the good salad, so that they became human again. The beautiful girl fell on her knees before him, and said, “Ah, my beloved, forgive me for the evil I have done you; my mother drove me to it; it was done against my will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak hangs in a cupboard, and as for the bird’s-heart I will take a vomiting potion.”But he thought otherwise, and said, “Keep it; it is all the same, for I will take thee for my true wife.” So the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happily together until their death.
Once upon a time there was a miller who left no more riches to the three sons he had than his mill, his donkey, and his cat. The division was soon made. Neither the lawyer nor the attorney was sent for. They would soon have eaten up all the poor property. The eldest had the mill, the second the donkey, and the youngest nothing but the cat.The youngest, as we can understand, was quite unhappy at having so poor a share.“My brothers,” said he, “may get their living handsomely enough by joining their stocks together; but, for my part, when I have eaten up my cat, and made me a muff of his skin, I must die of hunger.”{Note: Listen to Puss in Boots plus audiobooks of fairy tales from around the world on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}The Cat, who heard all this, without appearing to take any notice, said to him with a grave and serious air:–“Do not thus afflict yourself, my master; you have nothing else to do but to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me, that I may scamper through the brambles, and you shall see that you have not so poor a portion in me as you think.”Though the Cat’s master did not think much of what he said, he had seen him play such cunning tricks to catch rats and mice–hanging himself by the heels, or hiding himself in the meal, to make believe he was dead–that he did not altogether despair of his helping him in his misery.When the Cat had what he asked for, he booted himself very gallantly, and putting his bag about his neck, he held the strings of it in his two forepaws, and went into a warren where was a great number of rabbits. He put bran and sow-thistle into his bag, and, stretching out at length, as if he were dead, he waited for some young rabbits, not yet acquainted with the deceits of the world, to come and rummage his bag for what he had put into it.Scarcely was he settled but he had what he wanted. A rash and foolish young rabbit jumped into his bag, and Monsieur Puss, immediately drawing close the strings, took him and killed him at once. Proud of his prey, he went with it to the palace, and asked to speak with the King. He was shown upstairs into his Majesty’s apartment, and, making a low bow to the King, he said:–“I have brought you, sire, a rabbit which my noble Lord, the Master of Carabas” (for that was the title which Puss was pleased to give his master) “has commanded me to present to your Majesty from him.”“Tell thy master,” said the King, “that I thank him, and that I am pleased with his gift.”Another time he went and hid himself among some standing corn, still holding his bag open; and when a brace of partridges ran into it, he drew the strings, and so caught them both. He then went and made a present of these to the King, as he had done before of the rabbit which he took in the warren. The King, in like manner, received the partridges with great pleasure, and ordered his servants to reward him.The Cat continued for two or three months thus to carry his Majesty, from time to time, some of his master’s game. One day when he knew that the King was to take the air along the riverside, with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master:–“If you will follow my advice, your fortune is made. You have nothing else to do but go and bathe in the river, just at the spot I shall show you, and leave the rest to me.”The Marquis of Carabas did what the Cat advised him to, without knowing what could be the use of doing it. While he was bathing, the King passed by, and the Cat cried out with all his might:–“Help! help! My Lord the Marquis of Carabas is drowning!”At this noise the King put his head out of the coach window, and seeing the Cat who had so often brought him game, he commanded his guards to run immediately to the assistance of his Lordship the Marquis of Carabas.While they were drawing the poor Marquis out of the river, the Cat came up to the coach and told the King that, while his master was bathing, there came by some rogues, who ran off with his clothes, though he had cried out, “Thieves! thieves!” several times, as loud as he could.The cunning Cat had hidden the clothes under a great stone. The King immediately commanded the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the Lord Marquis of Carabas.The King was extremely polite to him, and as the fine clothes he had given him set off his good looks (for he was well made and handsome), the King’s daughter found him very much to her liking, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances than she fell in love with him to distraction. The King would have him come into the coach and take part in the airing. The Cat, overjoyed to see his plan begin to succeed, marched on before, and, meeting with some countrymen, who were mowing a meadow, he said to them:–“Good people, you who are mowing, if you do not tell the King that the meadow you mow belongs to my Lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot.”The King did not fail to ask the mowers to whom the meadow they were mowing belonged.“To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” answered they all together, for the Cat’s threat had made them afraid.“You have a good property there,” said the King to the Marquis of Carabas.“You see, sire,” said the Marquis, “this is a meadow which never fails to yield a plentiful harvest every year.”The Master Cat, who went still on before, met with some reapers, and said to them:–“Good people, you who are reaping, if you do not say that all this corn belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot.”The King, who passed by a moment after, wished to know to whom belonged all that corn, which he then saw.“To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” replied the reapers, and the King was very well pleased with it, as well as the Marquis, whom he congratulated thereupon. The Master Cat, who went always before, said the same thing to all he met, and the King was astonished at the vast estates of my Lord Marquis of Carabas.Monsieur Puss came at last to a stately castle, the master of which was an Ogre, the richest ever known; for all the lands which the King had then passed through belonged to this castle. The Cat, who had taken care to inform himself who this Ogre was and what he could do, asked to speak with him, saying he could not pass so near his castle without having the honor of paying his respects to him.The Ogre received him as civilly as an Ogre could do, and made him sit down.“I have been assured,” said the Cat, “that you have the gift of being able to change yourself into all sorts of creatures you have a mind to; that you can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, or elephant, and the like.”“That is true,” answered the Ogre, roughly; “and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion.”Puss was so terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he immediately climbed into the gutter, not without much trouble and danger, because of his boots, which were of no use at all to him for walking upon the tiles. A little while after, when Puss saw that the Ogre had resumed his natural form, he came down, and owned he had been very much frightened.“I have, moreover, been informed,” said the Cat, “but I know not how to believe it, that; you have also the power to take on you the shape of the smallest animals; for example, to change yourself into a rat or a mouse, but I must own to you I take this to be impossible.”“Impossible!” cried the Ogre; “you shall see.” And at the same time he changed himself into a mouse, and began to run about the floor. Puss no sooner perceived this than he fell upon him and ate him up.Meanwhile, the King, who saw, as he passed, this fine castle of the Ogre’s, had a mind to go into it. Puss, who heard the noise of his Majesty’s coach coming over the drawbridge, ran out, and said to the King, “Your Majesty is welcome to this castle of my Lord Marquis of Carabas.”“What! my Lord Marquis,” cried the King, “and does this castle also belong to you? There can be nothing finer than this courtyard and all the stately buildings which surround it; let us see the interior, if you please.”The Marquis gave his hand to the young Princess, and followed the King, who went first. They passed into the great hall, where they found a magnificent collation, which the Ogre had prepared for his friends, who were that very day to visit him, but dared not to enter, knowing the King was there. His Majesty, charmed with the good qualities of my Lord of Carabas, as was also his daughter, who had fallen violently in love with him, and seeing the vast estate he possessed, said to him:–“It will be owing to yourself only, my Lord Marquis, if you are not my son-in-law.”The Marquis, with low bows, accepted the honor which his Majesty conferred upon him, and forthwith that very same day married the Princess.
Many a day has the story-teller wandered along the dykes, which overlook the Zuyder Zee. Once there were fertile fields, and scores of towns, where water now covers all. Then fleets of ships sailed on the bosom of Lake Flevo, and in the river which ran into the sea. Bright and beautiful cities dotted the shores, and church bells chimed merrily for the bridal, or tolled in sympathy for the sorrowing. Many were the festal days, because of the wealth, which the ships brought from lands near and far.But to-day the waters roll over the spot and “The Dead Cities of the Zuyder Zee” are a proverb. Yet all are not dead, in one and the same sense. Some lie far down under the waves, their very names forgotten, because of the ocean’s flood, which in one night, centuries ago, rushed in to destroy. Others languished, because wealth came no longer in the ships, and the seaports dried up. And one, because of a foolish woman, instead of holding thousands of homes and people, is to-day only a village nestling behind the dykes. It holds a few hundred people and only a fragment of land remains of its once great area.In the distant ages of ice and gravel, when the long and high glaciers of Norway poked their cold noses into Friesland, Stavoren held the shrine of Stavo, the storm-god. The people were very poor, but many pilgrims came to worship at Stavo’s altars. After the new religion came into the land, wealth increased, because the ships traded with the warm lands in the south. A great city sprang up, to which the counts of Holland granted a charter, with privileges second to none. It was written that Stavoren should have “the same freedom which a free city enjoys from this side of the mountains (the Alps) to the sea.”Then there came an age of gold in Stavoren. People were so rich, that the bolts and hinges and the keys and locks of their doors were made of this precious yellow metal. In some of the houses, the parlor floor was paved with ducats from Spain.Now in this city lived a married couple, whose wealth came from the ships. The man, a merchant, was a simple hearted and honest fellow, who worked hard and was easily pleased.But his wife was discontented, always peevish and never satisfied with anything. Even her neighbors grew tired of her whining and complaints. They declared that on her tombstone should be carved these words:“She wanted something else”Now on every voyage, made by the many ships he owned, the merchant charged his captains to bring home something rare and fine, as a present to his wife. Some pretty carving or picture, a roll of silk for a dress, a lace collar, a bit of splendid tapestry, a shining jewel; or, it may be, a singing bird, a strange animal for a pet, a barrel of fruit, or a box of sweetmeats was sure to be brought. With such gifts, whether large or small, the husband hoped to please his wife.But in this good purpose, he could never succeed. So he began to think that it was his own fault. Being only a man, he could not tell what a woman wanted. So he resolved to try his own wits and tastes, to see if he could meet his wife’s desires.One day, when one of his best captains was about to sail on a voyage to the northeast, to Dantzig, which is almost as far as Russia, he inquired of his bad-tempered vrouw what he should bring her.“I want the best thing in the world,” said she. “Now this time, do bring it to me.”The merchant was now very happy. He told the captain to seek out and bring back what he himself might think was the best thing on earth; but to make sure, he must buy a cargo of wheat.The skipper went on board, hoisted anchor and set sail. Using his man’s wits, he also decided that wheat, which makes bread, was the very thing to be desired. In talking to his mates and sailors, they agreed with him. Thus, all the men, in this matter, were of one mind, and the captain dreamed only of jolly times when on shore. On other voyages, when he had hunted around for curiosities to please the wife of the boss, he had many and anxious thoughts; but now, he was care-free.In Dantzig, all the ship’s men had a good time, for the captain made “goed koop” (a fine bargain). Then the vessel, richly loaded with grain, turned its prow homeward. Arriving at Stavoren, the skipper reported to the merchant, to tell him of much money made, of a sound cargo obtained, of safe arrival, and, above all, plenty of what would please his wife; for what on earth could be more valuable than wheat, which makes bread, the staff of life?At lunch time, when the merchant came home, his wife wanted to know what made him look so joyful. Had he made “goed koop” that day?Usually, at meal time, this quiet man hardly spoke two words an hour. To tell the truth, he sometimes irritated his wife because of his silence, but to-day he was voluble.The man of wealth answered, “I have a joyful surprise for you. I cannot tell you now. You must come with me and see.”After lunch, he took his wife on board the ship, giving a wink of his eye to the skipper, who nodded to the sailors, and then the stout fellows opened the hatches. There, loaded to the very deck, was the precious grain. The merchant looked up, expecting to see and hear his wife clap her hands with joy.But the greedy woman turned her back on him, and flew into a rage.“Throw it all overboard, into the water,” she screamed. “You wretch, you have deceived me.”The husband tried to calm her and explain that it was his thought to get wheat, as the world’s best gift, hoping thus to please her.At that moment, some hungry beggars standing on the wharf, heard the lady’s loud voice, and falling on their knees cried to her:“Please, madame, give us some of this wheat; we are starving.”“Yes, lady, and there are many poor in Stavoren, in spite of all its gold,” said the captain. “Why not divide this wheat among the needy, if you are greatly disappointed? You will win praise for yourself. In the name of God, forgive my boldness, and do as I ask. Then, on the next voyage, I shall sail as far as China and will get you anything you ask!”But the angry woman would listen to no one. She stayed on the ship, urging on the sailors, with their shovels, until every kernel was cast overboard.“Never again will I try to please you,” said her husband. “The hungry will curse you, and you may yet suffer for food, because of this wilful waste, which will make woful want. Even you will suffer.”She listened at first in silence, and then put her fingers in her ears to hear no more. Proud of her riches, with her voice in a high key, she shouted, “I ever want? What folly to say so! I am too rich.” Then, to show her contempt for such words, she slipped off a ring from her finger and threw it into the waters of the harbor. Her husband almost died of grief and shame, when he saw that it was her wedding ring, which she had cast overboard.“Hear you all! When that ring comes back to me, I shall be hungry and not before,” said she, loud enough to be heard on ship, wharf, and street. Gathering up her skirts, she stepped upon the gangway, tripping to the shore, and past the poor people, who looked at her in mingled hate and fear. Then haughtily, she strode to her costly mansion.Now to celebrate the expected new triumph and to show off her wealth and luxury, with the numerous curiosities brought her from many lands, the proud lady had already invited a score of guests. When they were all seated, the first course of soup was served in silver dishes, which every one admired. As the fish was about to be brought in, to be eaten off golden plates, the butler begged the lady’s permission to bring in first, from the chief cook, something rare and wonderful, that he had found in the mouth of the fish, which was waiting, already garnished, on the big dish. Not dreaming what it might be, the hostess clapped her hands in glee, saying to those at the table:“Perhaps now, at last, I shall get what I have long waited for—the best thing in the world.”“We shall all hope so,” the guests responded in chorus.But when the chief cook came into the banquet hall, and, bowing low, held before his mistress a golden salver, with a finger ring on it, the proud lady turned pale.It was the very ring which, in her anger, she had tossed overboard the day before. To add to her shame, she saw from the look of horror on their faces, that the guests had recognized the fact that it was her wedding token.This was only the beginning of troubles. That night, her husband died of grief and vexation. The next day, the warehouses, stored with valuable merchandise of all sorts, were burned to the ground.Before her husband had been decently buried, a great tempest blew down from the north, and news came that four of his ships had been wrecked. Their sailors hardly escaped with their lives, and both they and their families in Stavoren were now clamoring for bread.Even when she put on her weeds of grief, these did not protect the widow from her late husband’s creditors. She had to sell her house and all that was in it, to satisfy them and pay her debts. She had even to pawn her ring to the Lombards, the goldsmiths of the town, to buy money for bread.Now that she was poor, none of the former rich folks, who had come to her grand dinners, would look at her. She had even to beg her bread on the streets; for who wanted to help the woman who wasted wheat? She was glad to go to the cow stalls, and eat what the cattle left. Before the year ended, she was found dead in a stable, in rags and starvation. Thus her miserable life ended. Without a funeral, but borne on a bier, by two men, she was buried at the expense of the city, in the potter’s field.But even this was not the end of the fruits of her wickedness, for the evil she did lived after her. It was found that, from some mysterious cause, a sand bar was forming in the river. This prevented the ships from coming up to the docks. With its trade stopped, the city grew poorer every day. What was the matter?By and by, at low tide, some fishermen saw a green field under the surface of the harbor. It was not a garden of seaweed, for instead of leaves whirling with the tide, there were stalks that stood up high. The wheat had sprouted and taken root. In another month the tops of these stalks were visible above the water. But in such soil as sand, the wheat had reverted to its wild state. It was good for nothing, but only did harm.For, while producing no grain for food, it held together the sand, which rolled down the river and had come all the way from the Alps to the ocean. Of old, this went out to sea and kept the harbor scoured clean, so that the ships came clear up to the wharves. Then, on many a morning, a wealthy merchant, whose house was close to the docks, looked out of his window to find the prows, of his richly laden ships, poked almost into his bedroom, and he liked it. Venturesome boys even climbed from their cots down the bowsprits, on to the deck of their fathers’ vessels. Of such sons, the fathers were proud, knowing that they would make brave sailors and navigate spice ships from the Indies. It was because of her brave mariners, that Stavoren had gained her glory and greatness, being famed in all the land.But now, within so short a time, the city’s renown and wealth had faded like a dream. By degrees, the population diminished, commerce became a memory, and ships a curiosity. The people, that were left, had to eat rye and barley bread, instead of wheat. Floods ruined the farmers and washed away large parts of the town, so that dykes had to be built to save what was left.More terrible than all, the ocean waves rolled in and wiped out cities, towns, and farms, sinking churches, convents, monasteries, warehouses, wharves, and docks, in one common ruin, hidden far down below.To this day the worthless wheat patch, that spoiled Stavoren, is called “Vrouwen Zand,” or the Lady’s Sand. Instead of being the staff of life, as Nature intended, the wheat, because of a power of evil greater than that of a thousand wicked fairies, became the menace of death to ruin a rich city.No wonder the Dutch have a proverb, which might be thus translated:“Peevishness perverts wheat into weedsBut a sweet temper turns a field into gold.”
These are a sort of water-spirits who inveigle women and children into the recesses which they inhabit, beneath lakes and rivers, by floating past them, on the surface of the water, in the shape of gold rings or cups. The women thus seized are employed as nurses, and after seven years are permitted to revisit earth. Gervase mentions one woman in particular who had been allured by observing a wooden dish, or cup, float by her, while she was washing clothes in the river. Being seized as soon as she reached the depths, she was conducted into one of the subterranean recesses, which she described as very magnificent, and employed as nurse to one of the brood of the hag who had allured her. During her residence in this capacity, having accidentally touched one of her eyes with an ointment of serpent’s grease, she perceived, at her return to the world, that she had acquired the faculty of seeing the Dracæ, when they intermingle themselves with men. Of this power she was, however, deprived by the touch of her ghostly mistress, whom she had one day incautiously addressed. It is a curious fact that this story, in almost all its parts, is current in both the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, with no other variation than the substitution of Fairies for Dracæ, and the cavern of a hill for that of a river. Indeed many of the vulgar account it extremely dangerous to touch anything which they may happen to find without saining (blessing) it, the snares of the enemy being notorious and well-attested. A pool-woman of Teviotdale having been fortunate enough, as she thought herself, to find a wooden beetle, at the very time when she needed such an implement, seized it without pronouncing a proper blessing, and, carrying it home, laid it above her bed to be ready for employment in the morning. At midnight the window of her cottage opened, and a loud voice was heard calling up some one within by a strange and uncouth name. The terrified cottager ejaculated a prayer, which, we may suppose, ensured her personal safety; while the enchanted implement of housewifery, tumbling from the bedstead, departed by the window with no small noise and precipitation. In a humorous fugitive tract, Dr. Johnson has been introduced as disputing the authenticity of an apparition, merely because the spirit assumed the shape of a teapot and a shoulder of mutton. No doubt, a case so much in point as that we have now quoted would have removed his incredulity.
A Boy put his hand into a jar of Filberts, and grasped as many as his fist could possibly hold. But when he tried to pull it out again, he found he couldn’t do so, for the neck of the jar was too small to allow of the passage of so large a handful. Unwilling to lose his nuts but unable to withdraw his hand, he burst into tears. A bystander, who saw where the trouble lay, said to him, “Come, my boy, don’t be so greedy: be content with half the amount, and you’ll be able to get your hand out without difficulty.”Do not attempt too much at once.
There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called Simpleton, and was despised, mocked, and sneered at on every occasion.It happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood, and before he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a bottle of wine in order that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst.{Listen to The Golden Goose and hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}When he entered the forest he met a little grey-haired old man who bade him good day, and said: ‘Do give me a piece of cake out of your pocket, and let me have a draught of your wine; I am so hungry and thirsty.’ But the clever son answered: ‘If I give you my cake and wine, I shall have none for myself; be off with you,’ and he left the little man standing and went on.But when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made a false stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm, so that he had to go home and have it bound up. And this was the little grey man’s doing.After this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave him, like the eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old grey man met him likewise, and asked him for a piece of cake and a drink of wine. But the second son, too, said sensibly enough: ‘What I give you will be taken away from myself; be off!’ and he left the little man standing and went on. His punishment, however, was not delayed; when he had made a few blows at the tree he struck himself in the leg, so that he had to be carried home.Then Simpleton said: ‘Father, do let me go and cut wood.’ The father answered: ‘Your brothers have hurt themselves with it, leave it alone, you do not understand anything about it.’ But Simpleton begged so long that at last he said: ‘Just go then, you will get wiser by hurting yourself.’ His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the cinders, and with it a bottle of sour beer.When he came to the forest the little old grey man met him likewise, and greeting him, said: ‘Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out of your bottle; I am so hungry and thirsty.’ Simpleton answered: ‘I have only cinder-cake and sour beer; if that pleases you, we will sit down and eat.’ So they sat down, and when Simpleton pulled out his cinder-cake, it was a fine sweet cake, and the sour beer had become good wine. So they ate and drank, and after that the little man said: ‘Since you have a good heart, and are willing to divide what you have, I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree, cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.’ Then the little man took leave of him.Simpleton went and cut down the tree, and when it fell there was a goose sitting in the roots with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her up, and taking her with him, went to an inn where he thought he would stay the night. Now the host had three daughters, who saw the goose and were curious to know what such a wonderful bird might be, and would have liked to have one of its golden feathers.The eldest thought: ‘I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a feather,’ and as soon as Simpleton had gone out she seized the goose by the wing, but her finger and hand remained sticking fast to it.The second came soon afterwards, thinking only of how she might get a feather for herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she was held fast.At last the third also came with the like intent, and the others screamed out: ‘Keep away; for goodness’ sake keep away!’ But she did not understand why she was to keep away. ‘The others are there,’ she thought, ‘I may as well be there too,’ and ran to them; but as soon as she had touched her sister, she remained sticking fast to her. So they had to spend the night with the goose.The next morning Simpleton took the goose under his arm and set out, without troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to it. They were obliged to run after him continually, now left, now right, wherever his legs took him.In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the procession he said: ‘For shame, you good-for-nothing girls, why are you running across the fields after this young man? Is that seemly?’ At the same time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull her away, but as soon as he touched her he likewise stuck fast, and was himself obliged to run behind.Before long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson, running behind three girls. He was astonished at this and called out: ‘Hi! your reverence, whither away so quickly? Do not forget that we have a christening today!’ and running after him he took him by the sleeve, but was also held fast to it.Whilst the five were trotting thus one behind the other, two labourers came with their hoes from the fields; the parson called out to them and begged that they would set him and the sexton free. But they had scarcely touched the sexton when they were held fast, and now there were seven of them running behind Simpleton and the goose.Soon afterwards he came to a city, where a king ruled who had a daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So he had put forth a decree that whosoever should be able to make her laugh should marry her. When Simpleton heard this, he went with his goose and all her train before the king’s daughter, and as soon as she saw the seven people running on and on, one behind the other, she began to laugh quite loudly, and as if she would never stop. Thereupon Simpleton asked to have her for his wife; but the king did not like the son-in-law, and made all manner of excuses and said he must first produce a man who could drink a cellarful of wine. Simpleton thought of the little grey man, who could certainly help him; so he went into the forest, and in the same place where he had felled the tree, he saw a man sitting, who had a very sorrowful face. Simpleton asked him what he was taking to heart so sorely, and he answered: ‘I have such a great thirst and cannot quench it; cold water I cannot stand, a barrel of wine I have just emptied, but that to me is like a drop on a hot stone!’‘There, I can help you,’ said Simpleton, ‘just come with me and you shall be satisfied.’He led him into the king’s cellar, and the man bent over the huge barrels, and drank and drank till his loins hurt, and before the day was out he had emptied all the barrels. Then Simpleton asked once more for his bride, but the king was vexed that such an ugly fellow, whom everyone called Simpleton, should take away his daughter, and he made a new condition; he must first find a man who could eat a whole mountain of bread. Simpleton did not think long, but went straight into the forest, where in the same place there sat a man who was tying up his body with a strap, and making an awful face, and saying: ‘I have eaten a whole ovenful of rolls, but what good is that when one has such a hunger as I? My stomach remains empty, and I must tie myself up if I am not to die of hunger.’At this Simpleton was glad, and said: ‘Get up and come with me; you shall eat yourself full.’ He led him to the king’s palace where all the flour in the whole Kingdom was collected, and from it he caused a huge mountain of bread to be baked. The man from the forest stood before it, began to eat, and by the end of one day the whole mountain had vanished. Then Simpleton for the third time asked for his bride; but the king again sought a way out, and ordered a ship which could sail on land and on water. ‘As soon as you come sailing back in it,’ said he, ‘you shall have my daughter for wife.’Simpleton went straight into the forest, and there sat the little grey man to whom he had given his cake. When he heard what DSimpleton wanted, he said: ‘Since you have given me to eat and to drink, I will give you the ship; and I do all this because you once were kind to me.’ Then he gave him the ship which could sail on land and water, and when the king saw that, he could no longer prevent him from having his daughter. The wedding was celebrated, and after the king’s death, Simpleton inherited his kingdom and lived for a long time contentedly with his wife.
Benito was an only son who lived with his father and mother in a little village. They were very poor, and as the boy grew older and saw how hard his parents struggled for their scanty living he often dreamed of a time when he might be a help to them.One evening when they sat eating their frugal meal of rice the father told about a young king who lived in a beautiful palace some distance from their village, and the boy became very much interested. That night when the house was dark and quiet and Benito lay on his mat trying to sleep, thoughts of the young king repeatedly came to his mind, and he wished he were a king that he and his parents might spend the rest of their lives in a beautiful palace.The next morning he awoke with a new idea. He would go to the king and ask for work, that he might in that way be able to help his father and mother. He was a long time in persuading his parents to allow him to go, however, for it was a long journey, and they feared that the king might not be gracious. But at last they gave their consent, and the boy started out The journey proved tiresome. After he reached the palace, he was not at first permitted to see the king. But the boy being very earnest at last secured a place as a servant.It was a new and strange world to Benito who had known only the life of a little village. The work was hard, but he was happy in thinking that now he could help his father and mother. One day the king sent for him and said:“I want you to bring to me a beautiful princess who lives in a land across the sea. Go at once, and if you fail you shall be punished severely,”The boy’s heart sank within him, for he did not know what to do. But he answered as bravely as possible, “I will, my lord,” and left the king’s chamber. He at once set about preparing things for a long journey, for he was determined to try at least to fulfil the command.When all was ready Benito started. He had not gone far before he came to a thick forest, where he saw a large bird bound tightly with strings.“Oh, my friend,” pleaded the bird, “please free me from these bonds, and I will help you whenever you call on me.”Benito quickly released the bird, and it flew away calling back to him that its name was Sparrow-hawk.Benito continued his journey till he came to the sea. Unable to find a way of crossing, he stopped and gazed sadly out over the waters, thinking of the king’s threat if he failed. Suddenly he saw swimming toward him the King of the Fishes who asked:“Why are you so sad?”“I wish to cross the sea to find the beautiful Princess,” answered the boy.“Well, get on my back,” said the Fish, “and I will carry you across.”So Benito stepped on his back and was carried to the other shore.Soon he met a strange woman who inquired what it was he sought, and when he had told her she said:“The Princess is kept in a castle guarded by giants. Take this magic sword, for it will kill instantly whatever it touches.” And she handed him the weapon.Benito was more than grateful for her kindness and went on full of hope. As he approached the castle he could see that it was surrounded by many giants, and as soon as they saw him they ran out to seize him, but they went unarmed for they saw that he was a mere boy. As they approached he touched those in front with his sword, and one by one they fell dead. Then the others ran away in a panic, and left the castle unguarded. Benito entered, and when he had told the Princess of his errand, she was only too glad to escape from her captivity and she set out at once with him for the palace of the king.At the seashore the King of the Fishes was waiting for them, and they had no difficulty in crossing the sea and then in journeying through the thick forest to the palace, where they were received with great rejoicing. After a time the King asked the Princess to become his wife, and she replied:“I will, O King, if you will get the ring I lost in the sea as I was crossing it”The King immediately thought of Benito, and sending for him he commanded him to find the ring which had been lost on the journey from the land of the giants.It seemed a hopeless task to the boy, but, anxious to obey his master, he started out. At the seaside he stopped and gazed over the waters until, to his great delight, he saw his friend, the King of the Fishes, swimming toward him. When he had been told of the boy’s troubles, the great fish said: “I will see if I can help you,” and he summoned all his subjects to him. When they came he found that one was missing, and he sent the others in search of it. They found it under a stone so full that it could not swim, and the larger ones took it by the tail and dragged it to the King.“Why did you not come when you were called?” inquired the King Fish.“I have eaten so much that I cannot swim,” replied the poor fish.Then the King Fish, suspecting the truth, ordered it cut open, and inside they found the lost ring. Benito was overjoyed at this, and expressing his great thanks, hastened with the precious ring to his master.The King, greatly pleased, carried the ring to the Princess and said:“Now that I have your ring will you become my wife?”“I will be your wife,” replied the Princess, “if you will find my earring that I lost in the forest as I was journeying with Benito.”Again the King sent for Benito, and this time he commanded him to find the earring. The boy was very weary from his long journeys, but with no complaint he started out once more. Along the road through the thick forest he searched carefully, but with no reward. At last, tired and discouraged, he sat down under a tree to rest.Suddenly there appeared before him a mouse of great size, and he was surprised to find that it was the King of Mice.“Why are you so sad?” asked the King Mouse.“Because,” answered the boy, “I cannot find an earring which the Princess lost as we were going through the forest together.”“I will help you,” said the Mouse, and he summoned all his subjects.When they assembled it was found that one little mouse was missing, and the King sent the others to look for him. In a small hole among the bamboo trees they found him, and he begged to be left alone, for, he said, he was so full that he could not walk. Nevertheless they pulled him along to their master, who, upon finding that there was something hard inside the mouse, ordered him cut open; and inside they found the missing earring.Benito at once forgot his weariness, and after expressing his great thanks to the King Mouse he hastened to the palace with the prize. The King eagerly seized the earring and presented it to the Princess, again asking her to be his wife.“Oh, my King,” replied the Princess, “I have one more request to make. Only grant it and I will be your wife forever.”The King, believing that now with the aid of Benito he could grant anything, inquired what it was she wished, and she replied:“Get me some water from heaven and some from the lower world, and I shall ask nothing more.”Once more the King called Benito and sent him on the hardest errand of all.The boy went out not knowing which way to turn, and while he was in a deep study his weary feet led him to the forest. Suddenly he thought of the bird who had promised to help him, and he called, “Sparrowhawk!” There was a rustle of wings, and the bird swooped down. He told it of his troubles and it said:“I will get the water for you.”Then Benito made two light cups of bamboo which he fastened to the bird’s legs, and it flew away. All day the boy waited in the forest, and just as night was coming on the bird returned with both cups full. The one on his right foot, he told Benito, was from heaven, and that on his left was from the lower world. The boy unfastened the cups, and then, as he was thanking the bird, he noticed that the journey had been too much for it and that it was dying. Filled with sorrow for his winged friend, he waited and carefully buried it, and then he hastened to the palace with the precious water.When the Princess saw that her wish had been fulfilled she asked the King to cut her in two and pour over her the water from heaven. The King was not able to do this, so she cut herself, and then as he poured the water over her he beheld her grow into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.Eager to become handsome himself, the King then begged her to pour over him the water from the other cup. He cut himself, and she did as he requested, but immediately there arose a creature most ugly and horrible to look upon, which soon vanished out of sight. Then the Princess called Benito and told him that because he had been so faithful to his master and so kind to her, she chose him for her husband.They were married amid great festivities and became king and queen of that broad and fertile land. During all the great rejoicing, however, Benito never forgot his parents. One of the finest portions of his kingdom he gave to them, and from that time they all lived in great happiness.
When the Angel whose mission it was to colour the birds had finished his work, he began to scrape his palette and to make ready for departure. He had done his task well, for the plumage of the feathered creatures all around him glowed with a thousand glorious colours. There was the lordly eagle, arrayed in a robe of golden brown. The peacock had a tail of shimmering blue and green that looked as if it were studded with precious stones. The crow’s black coat shone in the sun with a kind of steely radiance, very wonderful to behold. The canary was as yellow as a buttercup; the jay had a spot of blue sky on either wing; even the humble sparrow wore a handsome black neck-tie; while Chanticleer, the cock, was resplendent in yellow, black, and red.“All of the birds were very proud of their appearance.” Illustration by Jean De Bosschère, published in Folk-Tales of Flanders by Jean De Bosschère (1918), Dodd, Mead and Company.All the birds were very proud of their appearance, and they strutted about here and there, gazing at their reflections in the water and calling upon their neighbours to come and admire their beauties.{Listen to this tale plus hundreds of other fairy tales and folktale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}Alone among the birds the little goldfinch took no part in the rejoicing. Somehow or other the Angel had overlooked him, so that he remained uncoloured, a drab little creature, in his sober grey dress, among the gaily clothed throng. More than once he had tried to draw the Angel’s attention to himself, and now, seeing him cleaning his palette in readiness to depart, he stepped forward and said: “Have pity on me, good Angel, and paint my plumage as you have painted that of the others, so that I may walk among them unashamed. I have nothing to commend me—no beautiful song like the nightingale or the throstle, no grace of form such as the swallows have. If I am to go unadorned, nothing remains for me but to hide myself among the leaves.”Then the Angel took pity on the little creature, and would gladly have painted him with glowing colours, but alas, he had scraped his palette clean. Therefore he took up a brush, and going from bird to bird took from each a spot of colour, which he laid upon the goldfinch, blending a score of brilliant hues with marvellous skill. When he had finished, the tiny bird was transformed, and from being the saddest in that brilliant company he took a place among the most beautiful of them all.It is not possible, by means of words, to describe the beauty of the colouring which the Angel gave to the goldfinch, but you may see him any day you like, sitting on a thistle, and chirping his song of gratitude and praise.
There was once upon a time a poor woman who would have given all she possessed for a child, but she hadn’t one.Now it happened one day that her husband went to the wood to collect brushwood, and when he had brought it home, he discovered a pretty little snake among the twigs.When Sabatella, for that was the name of the peasant’s wife, saw the little beast, she sighed deeply and said, ‘Even the snakes have their brood; I alone am unfortunate and have no children.’ No sooner had she said these words than, to her intense surprise, the little snake looked up into her face and spoke: ‘Since you have no children, be a mother to me instead, and I promise you will never repent it, for I will love you as if I were your own son.’At first Sabatella was frightened to death at hearing a snake speak, but plucking up her courage, she replied, ‘If it weren’t for any other reason than your kindly thought, I would agree to what you say, and I will love you and look after you like a mother.’So she gave the snake a little hole in the house for its bed, fed it with all the nicest food she could think of, and seemed as if she never could show it enough kindness. Day by day it grew bigger and fatter, and at last one morning it said to Cola-Mattheo, the peasant, whom it always regarded as its father, ‘Dear papa, I am now of a suitable age and wish to marry.’‘I’m quite agreeable,’ answered Mattheo, ‘and I’ll do my best to find another snake like yourself and arrange a match between you.’‘Why, if you do that,’ replied the snake, ‘we shall be no better than the vipers and reptiles, and that’s not what I want at all. No; I’d much prefer to marry the King’s daughter; therefore I pray you go without further delay, and demand an audience of the King, and tell him a snake wishes to marry his daughter.’Cola-Mattheo, who was rather a simpleton, went as he was desired to the King, and having obtained an audience, he said, ‘Your Majesty, I have often heard that people lose nothing by asking, so I have come to inform you that a snake wants to marry your daughter, and I’d be glad to know if you are willing to mate a dove with a serpent?’The King, who saw at once that the man was a fool, said, in order to get quit of him, ‘Go home and tell your friend the snake that if he can turn this palace into ivory, inlaid with gold and silver, before to-morrow at noon, I will let him marry my daughter.’ And with a hearty laugh he dismissed the peasant.When Cola-Mattheo brought this answer back to the snake, the little creature didn’t seem the least put out, but said, ‘To- morrow morning, before sunrise, you must go to the wood and gather a bunch of green herbs, and then rub the threshold of the palace with them, and you’ll see what will happen.’Cola-Mattheo, who was, as I have said before, a great simpleton, made no reply; but before sunrise next morning he went to the wood and gathered a bunch of St. John’s Wort, and rosemary, and suchlike herbs, and rubbed them, as he had been told, on the floor of the palace. Hardly had he done so than the walls immediately turned into ivory, so richly inlaid with gold and silver that they dazzled the eyes of all beholders. The King, when he rose and saw the miracle that had been performed, was beside himself with amazement, and didn’t know what in the world he was to do.But when Cola-Mattheo came next day, and, in the name of the snake, demanded the hand of the Princess, the King replied, ‘Don’t be in such a hurry; if the snake really wants to marry my daughter, he must do some more things first, and one of these is to turn all the paths and walls of my garden into pure gold before noon to-morrow.’When the snake was told of this new condition, he replied, ‘To- morrow morning, early, you must go and collect all the odds and ends of rubbish you can find in the streets, and then take them and throw them on the paths and walls of the garden, and you’ll see then if we won’t be more than a match for the old King.’So Cola-Mattheo rose at cock-crow, took a large basket under his arm, and carefully collected all the broken fragments of pots and pans, and jugs and lamps, and other trash of that sort. No sooner had he scattered them over the paths and walls of the King’s garden than they became one blaze of glittering gold, so that everyone’s eyes were dazzled with the brilliancy, and everyone’s soul was filled with wonder. The King, too, was amazed at the sight, but still he couldn’t make up his mind to part with his daughter, so when Cola-Mattheo came to remind him of his promise he replied, ‘I have still a third demand to make. If the snake can turn all the trees and fruit of my garden into precious stones, then I promise him my daughter in marriage.’When the peasant informed the snake what the King had said, he replied, ‘To-morrow morning, early, you must go to the market and buy all the fruit you see there, and then sow all the stones and seeds in the palace garden, and, if I’m not mistaken, the King will be satisfied with the result.’Cola-Mattheo rose at dawn, and taking a basket on his arm, he went to the market, and bought all the pomegranates, apricots, cherries, and other fruit he could find there, and sowed the seeds and stones in the palace garden. In one moment, the trees were all ablaze with rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and every other precious stone you can think of.This time the King felt obliged to keep his promise, and calling his daughter to him, he said, ‘My dear Grannonia,’ for that was the Princess’s name, ‘more as a joke than anything else, I demanded what seemed to me impossibilities from your bridegroom, but now that he has done all I required, I am bound to stick to my part of the bargain. Be a good child, and as you love me, do not force me to break my word, but give yourself up with as good grace as you can to a most unhappy fate.’‘Do with me what you like, my lord and father, for your will is my law,’ answered Grannonia.When the King heard this, he told Cola-Mattheo to bring the snake to the palace, and said that he was prepared to receive the creature as his son-in-law.The snake arrived at court in a carriage made of gold and drawn by six white elephants; but wherever it appeared on the way, the people fled in terror at the sight of the fearful reptile.When the snake reached the palace, all the courtiers shook and trembled with fear down to the very scullion, and the King and Queen were in such a state of nervous collapse that they hid themselves in a far-away turret. Grannonia alone kept her presence of mind, and although both her father and mother implored her to fly for her life, she wouldn’t move a step, saying, ‘I’m certainly not going to fly from the man you have chosen for my husband.’As soon as the snake saw Grannonia, it wound its tail round her and kissed her. Then, leading her into a room, it shut the door, and throwing off its skin, it changed into a beautiful young man with golden locks, and flashing eyes, who embraced Grannonia tenderly, and said all sorts of pretty things to her.When the King saw the snake shut itself into a room with his daughter, he said to his wife, ‘Heaven be merciful to our child, for I fear it is all over with her now. This cursed snake has most likely swallowed her up.’ Then they put their eyes to the keyhole to see what had happened.Their amazement knew no bounds when they saw a beautiful youth standing before their daughter with the snake’s skin lying on the floor beside him. In their excitement they burst open the door, and seizing the skin they threw it into the fire. But no sooner had they done this than the young man called out, ‘Oh, wretched people! what have you done?’ and before they had time to look round he had changed himself into a dove, and dashing against the window he broke a pane of glass, and flew away from their sight.But Grannonia, who in one and the same moment saw herself merry and sad, cheerful and despairing, rich and beggared, complained bitterly over this robbery of her happiness, this poisoning of her cup of joy, this unlucky stroke of fortune, and laid all the blame on her parents, though they assured her that they had meant no harm. But the Princess refused to be comforted, and at night, when all the inhabitants of the palace were asleep, she stole out by a back door, disguised as a peasant woman, determined to seek for her lost happiness till she found it. When she got to the outskirts of the town, led by the light of the moon, she met a fox, who offered to accompany her, an offer which Grannonia gladly accepted, saying ‘You are most heartily welcome, for I don’t know my way at all about the neighbourhood.’So they went on their way together, and came at last to a wood, where, being tired with walking, they paused to rest under the shade of a tree, where a spring of water sported with the tender grass, refreshing it with its crystal spray.They laid themselves down on the green carpet and soon fell fast asleep, and did not waken again till the sun was high in the heavens. They rose up and stood for some time listening to the birds singing, because Grannonia delighted in their songs.When the fox perceived this, he said: ‘If you only understood, as I do, what these little birds are saying, your pleasure would be even greater.’Provoked by his words–for we all know that curiosity is as deeply inborn in every woman as even the love of talking–Grannonia implored the fox to tell her what the birds had said.At first the wily fox refused to tell her what he had gathered from the conversation of the birds, but at last he gave way to her entreaties, and told her that they had spoken of the misfortunes of a beautiful young Prince, whom a wicked enchantress had turned into a snake for the period of seven years. At the end of this time he had fallen in love with a charming Princess, but that when he had shut himself up into a room with her, and had thrown off his snake’s skin, her parents had forced their way into the room and had burnt the skin, whereupon the Prince, changed into the likeness of a dove, had broken a pane of glass in trying to fly out of the window, and had wounded himself so badly that the doctors despaired of his life.Grannonia, when she learnt that they were talking of her lover, asked at once whose son he was, and if there was any hope of his recovery; to which the fox made answer that the birds had said he was the son of the King of Vallone Grosso, and that the only thing that could cure him was to rub the wounds on his head with the blood of the very birds who had told the tale.Then Grannonia knelt down before the fox, and begged him in her sweetest way to catch the birds for her and procure their blood, promising at the same time to reward him richly.‘All right,’ said the fox, ‘only don’t be in such a hurry; let’s wait till night, when the little birds have gone to roost, then I’ll climb up and catch them all for you.’So they passed the day, talking now of the beauty of the Prince, now of the father of the Princess, and then of the misfortune that had happened. At last the night arrived, and all the little birds were asleep high up on the branches of a big tree. The fox climbed up stealthily and caught the little creatures with his paws one after the other; and when he had killed them all he put their blood into a little bottle which he wore at his side and returned with it to Grannonia, who was beside herself with joy at the result of the fox’s raid. But the fox said, ‘My dear daughter, your joy is in vain, because, let me tell you, this blood is of no earthly use to you unless you add some of mine to it,’ and with these words he took to his heels.Grannonia, who saw her hopes dashed to the ground in this cruel way, had recourse to flattery and cunning, weapons which have often stood the sex in good stead, and called out after the fox, ‘Father Fox, you would be quite right to save your skin, if, in the first place, I didn’t feel I owed so much to you, and if, in the second, there weren’t other foxes in the world; but as you know how grateful I feel to you, and as there are heaps of other foxes about, you can trust yourself to me. Don’t behave like the cow that kicks the pail over after it has filled it with milk, but continue your journey with me, and when we get to the capital you can sell me to the King as a servant girl.’It never entered the fox’s head that even foxes can be outwitted, so after a bit he consented to go with her; but he hadn’t gone far before the cunning girl seized a stick, and gave him such a blow with it on the head, that he dropped down dead on the spot. Then Grannonia took some of his blood and poured it into her little bottle; and went on her way as fast as she could to Vallone Grosso.When she arrived there she went straight to the Royal palace, and let the King be told she had come to cure the young Prince.The King commanded her to be brought before him at once, and was much astonished when he saw that it was a girl who undertook to do what all the cleverest doctors of his kingdom had failed in. As an attempt hurts no one, he willingly consented that she should do what she could.‘All I ask,’ said Grannonia, ‘is that, should I succeed in what you desire, you will give me your son in marriage.’The King, who had given up all hopes of his son’s recovery, replied: ‘Only restore him to life and health and he shall be yours. It is only fair to give her a husband who gives me a son.’And so they went into the Prince’s room. The moment Grannonia had rubbed the blood on his wounds the illness left him, and he was as sound and well as ever. When the King saw his son thus marvellously restored to life and health, he turned to him and said: ‘My dear son, I thought of you as dead, and now, to my great joy and amazement, you are alive again. I promised this young woman that if she should cure you, to bestow your hand and heart on her, and seeing that Heaven has been gracious, you must fulfil the promise I made her; for gratitude alone forces me to pay this debt.’But the Prince answered: ‘My lord and father, I would that my will were as free as my love for you is great. But as I have plighted my word to another maiden, you will see yourself, and so will this young woman, that I cannot go back from my word, and be faithless to her whom I love.’When Grannonia heard these words, and saw how deeply rooted the Prince’s love for her was, she felt very happy, and blushing rosy red, she said: ‘But should I get the other lady to give up her rights, would you then consent to marry me?’‘Far be it from me,’ replied the Prince, ‘to banish the beautiful picture of my love from my heart. Whatever she may say, my heart and desire will remain the same, and though I were to lose my life for it, I couldn’t consent to this exchange.’Grannonia could keep silence no longer, and throwing off her peasant’s disguise, she discovered herself to the Prince, who was nearly beside himself with joy when he recognised his fair lady- love. He then told his father at once who she was, and what she had done and suffered for his sake.Then they invited the King and Queen of Starza-Longa to their Court, and had a great wedding feast, and proved once more that there is no better seasoning for the joys of true love than a few pangs of grief.
There was once a widow that lived on a small bit of ground, which she rented from a farmer. And she had two sons; and by-and-by it was time for the wife to send them away to seek their fortune. So she told her eldest son one day to take a can and bring her water from the well, that she might bake a cake for him; and however much or however little water he might bring, the cake would be great or small accordingly, and that cake was to be all that she could give him when he went on his travels.The lad went away with the can to the well, and filled it with water, and then came away home again; but the can being broken, the most part of the water had run out before he got back. So his cake was very small; yet small as it was, his mother asked him if he was willing to take the half of it with her blessing, telling him that, if he chose rather to take the whole, he would only get it with her curse.The young man, thinking he might have to travel a far way, and not knowing when or how he might get other provisions, said he would like to have the whole cake, come of his mother’s malison what like; so she gave him the whole cake, and her malison along with it. Then he took his brother aside, and gave him a knife to keep till he should come back, desiring him to look at it every morning, and as long as it continued to be clear, then he might be sure that the owner of it was well; but if it grew dim and rusty, then for certain some ill had befallen him.So the young man went to seek his fortune. And he went all that day, and all the next day; and on the third day, in the afternoon, he came up to where a shepherd was sitting with a flock of sheep. And he went up to the shepherd and asked him who the sheep belonged to; and he answered:“The Red Ettin of IrelandOnce lived in Ballygan,And stole King Malcolm’s daughterThe king of fair Scotland.He beats her, he binds her,He lays her on a band;And every day he strikes herWith a bright silver wand.Like Julian the Roman,He’s one that fears no man.It’s said there’s one predestinateTo be his mortal foe;But that man is yet unborn,And long may it be so.”This shepherd also told him to beware of the beasts he should next meet, for they were of a very different kind from any he had yet seen.“He saw the hideous beasts.” Illustration by Patten Wilson, published in A Third Book of Stories for the Storyteller by Fanny Coe (1920), Houghton, Mifflin, Harcourt.So the young man went on, and by-and-by he saw a multitude of very dreadful beasts, with two heads, and on every head four horns. And he was sore frightened, and ran away from them as fast as he could; and glad was he when he came to a castle that stood on a hillock, with the door standing wide open to the wall. And he went into the castle for shelter, and there he saw an old wife sitting beside the kitchen fire.He asked the wife if he might stay for the night, as he was tired with a long journey; and the wife said he might, but it was not a good place for him to be in, as it belonged to the Red Ettin, who was a very terrible beast, with three heads, that spared no living man it could get hold of. The young man would have gone away, but he was afraid of the beasts on the outside of the castle; so he beseeched the old woman to hide him as best she could, and not tell the Ettin he was there. He thought, if he could put over the night, he might get away in the morning, without meeting with the beasts, and so escape. But he had not been long in his hiding-hole, before the awful Ettin came in; and no sooner was he in, than he was heard crying:“Snouk but and snouk ben,I find the smell of an earthly man,Be he living, or be he dead,His heart this night shall kitchen my bread.”The monster soon found the poor young man, and pulled him from his hole. And when he had got him out, he told him that if he could answer him three questions his life should be spared. So the first head asked: “A thing without an end, what’s that?”But the young man knew not. Then the second head said: “The smaller, the more dangerous, what’s that?” But the young man knew it not. And then the third head asked: “The dead carrying the living; riddle me that?” But the young man had to give it up. The lad not being able to answer one of these questions, the Red Ettin took a mallet and knocked him on the head, and turned him into a pillar of stone.On the morning after this happened, the younger brother took out the knife to look at it, and he was grieved to find it all brown with rust. He told his mother that the time was now come for him to go away upon his travels also; so she requested him to take the can to the well for water, that she might make a cake for him. And he went, and as he was bringing home the water, a raven over his head cried to him to look, and he would see that the water was running out. And he was a young man of sense, and seeing the water running out, he took some clay and patched up the holes, so that he brought home enough water to bake a large cake. When his mother put it to him to take the half cake with her blessing, he took it in preference to having the whole with her malison; and yet the half was bigger than what the other lad had got.So he went away on his journey; and after he had travelled a far way, he met with an old woman that asked him if be would give her a bit of his johnny-cake. And he said: “I will gladly do that,” and so he gave her a piece of the johnny-cake; and for that she gave him a magical wand, that she might yet be of service to him, if he took care to use it rightly. Then the old woman, who was a fairy, told him a great deal that would happen to him, and what he ought to do in all circumstances; and after that she vanished in an instant out of his sight. He went on a great way farther, and then he came up to the old man herding the sheep; and when he asked whose sheep these were, the answer was:“The Red Ettin of IrelandOnce lived in Ballygan,And stole King Malcolm’s daughter,The king of Fair Scotland.“He beats her, he binds her,He lays her on a band;And every day he strikes herWith a bright silver wand.Like Julian the Roman,He’s one that fears no man.“But now I fear his end is near,And destiny at hand;And you’re to be, I plainly see,The heir of all his land.”When he came to the place where the monstrous beasts were standing, he did not stop nor run away, but went boldly through amongst them. One came up roaring with open mouth to devour him, when he struck it with his wand, and laid it in an instant dead at his feet. He soon came to the Ettin’s castle, where he knocked, and was admitted. The old woman who sat by the fire warned him of the terrible Ettin, and what had been the fate of his brother; but he was not to be daunted. The monster soon came in, saying:“Snouk but and snouk ben,I find the smell of an earthly man;Be he living, or be he dead,His heart shall be kitchen to my bread.”He quickly espied the young man, and bade him come forth on the floor. And then he put the three questions to him; but the young man had been told everything by the good fairy, so he was able to answer all the questions.So when the first head asked, “What’s the thing without an end?” he said: “A bowl.” And when the second head said: “The smaller the more dangerous; what’s that?” he said at once, “A bridge.” And last, the third head said: “When does the dead carry the living, riddle me that?”Then the young man answered up at once and said: “When a ship sails on the sea with men inside her.” When the Ettin found this, he knew that his power was gone. The young man then took up an axe and hewed off the monster’s three heads. He next asked the old woman to show him where the king’s daughter lay; and the old woman took him upstairs, and opened a great many doors, and out of every door came a beautiful lady who had been imprisoned there by the Ettin; and one of the ladies was the king’s daughter.She also took him down into a low room, and there stood a stone pillar, that he had only to touch with his wand, when his brother started into life. And the whole of the prisoners were overjoyed at their deliverance, for which they thanked the young man. Next day they all set out for the king’s court, and a gallant company they made. And the king married his daughter to the young man that had delivered her, and gave a noble’s daughter to his brother; and so they all lived happily all the rest of their days.
There was once a lady who had two children: the boy was called Oraggio, the girl, Bianchinetta. By misfortunes they were reduced from great wealth to poverty. It was decided that Oraggio should go out to service, and indeed he found a situation as valet de chambre to a prince. After a time the prince, satisfied with his service, changed it, and set him to work cleaning the pictures in his gallery. Among the various paintings was one of a very beautiful lady, which was constantly Oraggio’s admiration. The prince often surprised him admiring the portrait. One day he asked him why he spent so much time before that picture. Oraggio replied that it was the very image of his sister, and having been away from her some time, he felt the need of seeing her again. The prince answered that he did not believe that picture resembled his sister, because he had a search made, and it had not been possible to find any lady like the portrait. He added: “Have her come here, and if she is as beautiful as you say, I will make her my wife.”Oraggio wrote at once to Bianchinetta, who immediately set out on her journey. Oraggio went to the harbor to await her, and when he perceived the ship at a distance, he called out at intervals: “Mariners of the high sea, guard my sister Bianchina, so that the sun shall not brown her.” Now, on the ship where Bianchinetta was, was also another young girl with her mother, both very homely. When they were near the harbor, the daughter gave Bianchinetta a blow, and pushed her into the sea. When they landed, Oraggio could not recognize his sister; and that homely girl presented herself, saying that the sun had made her so dark that she could no longer be recognized. The prince was surprised at seeing such a homely woman, and reproved Oraggio, removing him from his position and setting him to watch the geese. Every day he led the geese to the sea, and every day Bianchinetta came forth and adorned them with tassels of various colors. When the geese returned home, they said:—The prince asked Oraggio how the geese came to repeat those words every day. He told him that his sister, thrown into the sea, had been seized by a fish, which had taken her to a beautiful palace under the water, where she was in chains. But that, attached to a long chain, she was permitted to come to the shore when he drove the geese there. The prince said: “If what you relate is true, ask her what is required to liberate her from that prison.”The next day Oraggio asked Bianchinetta how it would be possible to take her from there and conduct her to the prince. She replied: “It is impossible to take me from here. At least, the monster always says to me: ‘It would require a sword that cuts like a hundred, and a horse that runs like the wind.’ It is almost impossible to find these two things. You see, therefore, it is my fate to remain here always.” Oraggio returned to the palace, and informed the prince of his sister’s answer. The latter made every effort, and succeeded in finding the horse that ran like the wind, and the sword that cut like a hundred. They went to the sea, found Bianchinetta, who was awaiting them. She led them to her palace. With the sword the chain was cut. She mounted the horse, and thus was able to escape. When they reached the palace the prince found her as beautiful as the portrait Oraggio was always gazing at, and married her. The other homely one was burned in the public square, with the accustomed pitch-shirt; and they lived content and happy.
THERE was once upon a time a couple of rich folks who had twelve sons, and when the youngest was grown up he would not stay at home any longer, but would go out into the world and seek his fortune. His father and mother said that they thought he was very well off at home, and that he was welcome to stay with them; but he could not rest, and said that he must and would go, so at last they had to give him leave. When he had walked a long way, he came to a King’s palace. There he asked for a place and got it.Now the daughter of the King of that country had been carried off into the mountains by a Troll, and the King had no other children, and for this cause both he and all his people were full of sorrow and affliction, and the King had promised the Princess and half his kingdom to anyone who could set her free; but there was no one who could do it, though a great number had tried. So when the youth had been there for the space of a year or so, he wanted to go home again to pay his parents a visit; but when he got there his father and mother were dead, and his brothers had divided everything that their parents possessed between themselves, so that there was nothing at all left for him.{Note: Listen to Dapplegrim and other Norwegian fairy tale audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}‘Shall I, then, receive nothing at all of my inheritance?’ asked the youth.‘Who could know that you were still alive—you who have been a wanderer so long?’ answered the brothers. ‘However, there are twelve mares upon the hills which we have not yet divided among us, and if you would like to have them for your share, you may take them.’So the youth, well pleased with this, thanked them, and at once set off to the hill where the twelve mares were at pasture. When he got up there and found them, each mare had her foal, and by the side of one of them was a big dapple-grey foal as well, which was so sleek that it shone again.‘Well, my little foal, you are a fine fellow!’ said the youth.‘Yes, but if you will kill all the other little foals so that I can suck all the mares for a year, you shall see how big and handsome I shall be then!’ said the Foal.So the youth did this—he killed all the twelve foals, and then went back again.Next year, when he came home again to look after his mares and the foal, it was as fat as it could be, and its coat shone with brightness, and it was so big that the lad had the greatest difficulty in getting on its back, and each of the mares had another foal.‘Well, it’s very evident that I have lost nothing by letting you suck all my mares,’ said the lad to the yearling; ‘but now you are quite big enough, and must come away with me.’‘No,’ said the Colt, ‘I must stay here another year; kill the twelve little foals, and then I can suck all the mares this year also, and you shall see how big and handsome I shall be by summer.’So the youth did it again, and when he went up on the hill next year to look after his colt and the mares, each of the mares had her foal again; but the dappled colt was so big that when the lad wanted to feel its neck to see how fat it was, he could not reach up to it, it was so high? and it was so bright that the light glanced off its coat.‘Big and handsome you were last year, my colt, but this year you are ever so much handsomer,’ said the youth; ‘in all the King’s court no such horse is to be found. But now you shall come away with me.’‘No,’ said the dappled Colt once more; ‘here I must stay for another year. Just kill the twelve little foals again, so that I can suck the mares this year also, and then come and look at me in the summer.’So the youth did it—he killed all the little foals, and then went home again.But next year, when he returned to look after the dappled colt and the mares, he was quite appalled. He had never imagined that any horse could become so big and overgrown, for the dappled horse had to lie down on all fours before the youth could get on his back, and it was very hard to do that even when it was lying down, and it was so plump that its coat shone and glistened just as if it had been a looking-glass. This time the dappled horse was not unwilling to go away with the youth, so he mounted it, and when he came riding home to his brothers they all smote their hands together and crossed themselves, for never in their lives had they either seen or heard tell of such a horse as that.‘If you will procure me the best shoes for my horse, and the most magnificent saddle and bridle that can be found,’ said the youth, ‘you may have all my twelve mares just as they are standing out on the hill, and their twelve foals into the bargain.’ For this year also each mare had her foal. The brothers were quite willing to do this; so the lad got such shoes for his horse that the sticks and stones flew high up into the air as he rode away over the hills, and such a gold saddle and such a gold bridle that they could be seen glittering and glancing from afar.‘And now we will go to the King’s palace,’ said Dapplegrim—that was the horse’s name, ‘but bear in mind that you must ask the King for a good stable and excellent fodder for me.’So the lad promised not to forget to do that. He rode to the palace, and it will be easily understood that with such a horse as he had he was not long on the way.When he arrived there, the King was standing out on the steps, and how he did stare at the man who came riding up!‘Nay,’ said he, ‘never in my whole life have I seen such a man and such a horse.’And when the youth inquired if he could have a place in the King’s palace, the King was so delighted that he could have danced on the steps where he was standing, and there and then the lad was told that he should have a place.‘Yes; but I must have a good stable and most excellent fodder for my horse,’ said he.So they told him that he should have sweet hay and oats, and as much of them as the dappled horse chose to have, and all the other riders had to take their horses out of the stable that Dapplegrim might stand alone and really have plenty of room.But this did not last long, for the other people in the King’s Court became envious of the lad, and there was no bad thing that they would not have done to him if they had but dared. At last they bethought themselves of telling the King that the youth had said that, if he chose, he was quite able to rescue the Princess who had been carried off into the mountain a long time ago by the Troll.The King immediately summoned the lad into his presence, and said that he had been informed that he had said that it was in his power to rescue the Princess, so he was now to do it. If he succeeded in this, he no doubt knew that the King had promised his daughter and half the kingdom to anyone who set her free, which promise should be faithfully and honourably kept, but if he failed he should be put to death. The youth denied that he had said this, but all to no purpose, for the King was deaf to all his words; so there was nothing to be done but say that he would make the attempt.He went down into the stable, and very sad and full of care he was. Then Dapplegrim inquired why he was so troubled, and the youth told him, and said that he did not know what to do, ‘for as to setting the Princess free, that was downright impossible.’‘Oh, but it might be done,’ said Dapplegrim. ‘I will help you; but you must first have me well shod. You must ask for ten pounds of iron and twelve pounds of steel for the shoeing, and one smith to hammer and one to hold.’So the youth did this, and no one said him nay. He got both the iron and the steel, and the smiths, and thus was Dapplegrim shod strongly and well, and when the youth went out of the King’s palace a cloud of dust rose up behind him. But when he came to the mountain into which the Princess had been carried, the difficulty was to ascend the precipitous wall of rock by which he was to get on to the mountain beyond, for the rock stood right up on end, as steep as a house side and as smooth as a sheet of glass. The first time the youth rode at it he got a little way up the precipice, but then both Dapplegrim’s fore legs slipped, and down came horse and rider with a sound like thunder among the mountains. The next time that he rode at it he got a little farther up, but then one of Dapplegrim’s fore legs slipped, and down they went with the sound of a landslip. But the third time Dapplegrim said: ‘Now we must show what we can do,’ and went at it once more till the stones sprang up sky high, and thus they got up. Then the lad rode into the mountain cleft at full gallop and caught up the Princess on his saddle-bow, and then out again before the Troll even had time to stand up, and thus the Princess was set free.When the youth returned to the palace the King was both happy and delighted to get his daughter back again, as may easily be believed, but somehow or other the people about the Court had so worked on him that he was angry with the lad too. ‘Thou shalt have my thanks for setting my Princess free,’ he said, when the youth came into the palace with her, and was then about to go away.She ought to be just as much my Princess as she is yours now, for you are a man of your word,’ said the youth.‘Yes, yes,’ said the King. ‘Have her thou shalt, as I have said it; but first of all thou must make the sun shine into my palace here.’For there was a large and high hill outside the windows which overshadowed the palace so much that the sun could not shine in.‘That was no part of our bargain,’ answered the youth. ‘But as nothing that I can say will move you, I suppose I shall have to try to do my best, for the Princess I will have.’So he went down to Dapplegrim again and told him what the King desired, and Dapplegrim thought that it might easily be done; but first of all he must have new shoes, and ten pounds of iron and twelve pounds of steel must go to the making of them, and two smiths were also necessary, one to hammer and one to hold, and then it would be very easy to make the sun shine into the King’s palace.The lad asked for these things and obtained them instantly, for the King thought that for very shame he could not refuse to give them, and so Dapplegrim got new shoes, and they were good ones. The youth seated himself on him, and once more they went their way, and for each hop that Dapplegrim made, down went the hill fifteen ells into the earth, and so they went on until there was no hill left for the King to see.When the youth came down again to the King’s palace he asked the King if the Princess should not at last be his, for now no one could say that the sun was not shining into the palace. But the other people in the palace had again stirred up the King, and he answered that the youth should have her, and that he had never intended that he should not; but first of all he must get her quite as good a horse to ride to the wedding on as that which he had himself. The youth said that the King had never told him he was to do that, and it seemed to him that he had now really earned the Princess; but the King stuck to what he had said, and if the youth were unable to do it he was to lose his life, the King said. The youth went down to the stable again, and very sad and sorrowful he was, as anyone may well imagine. Then he told Dapplegrim that the King had now required that he should get the Princess as good a bridal horse as that which the bridegroom had, or he should lose his life. ‘But that will be no easy thing to do,’ said he, ‘for your equal is not to be found in all the world.’‘Oh yes, there is one to match me,’ said Dapplegrim. ‘But it will not be easy to get him, for he is underground. However, we will try. Now you must go up to the King and ask for new shoes for me, and for them we must again have ten pounds of iron, twelve pounds of steel, and two smiths, one to hammer and one to hold, but be very particular to see that the hooks are very sharp. And you must also ask for twelve barrels of rye, and twelve slaughtered oxen must we have with us, and all the twelve ox-hides with twelve hundred spikes set in each of them; all these things must we have, likewise a barrel of tar with twelve tons of tar in it. The youth went to the King and asked for all the things that Dapplegrim had named, and once more, as the King thought that it would be disgraceful to refuse them to him, he obtained them all.So he mounted Dapplegrim and rode away from the Court, and when he had ridden for a long, long time over hills and moors, Dapplegrim asked: ‘Do you hear anything?’‘Yes; there is such a dreadful whistling up above in the air that I think I am growing alarmed,’ said the youth.‘That is all the wild birds in the forest flying about; they are sent to stop us,’ said Dapplegrim. ‘But just cut a hole in the corn sacks, and then they will be so busy with the corn that they will forget us.’The youth did it. He cut holes in the corn sacks so that barley and rye ran out on every side, and all the wild birds that were in the forest came in such numbers that they darkened the sun. But when they caught sight of the corn they could not refrain from it, but flew down and began to scratch and pick at the corn and rye, and at last they began to fight among themselves, and forgot all about the youth and Dapplegrim, and did them no harm.And now the youth rode onwards for a long, long time, over hill and dale, over rocky places and morasses, and then Dapplegrim began to listen again, and asked the youth if he heard anything now.‘Yes; now I hear such a dreadful crackling and crashing in the forest on every side that I think I shall be really afraid,’ said the youth.‘That is all the wild beasts in the forest,’ said Dapplegrim; ‘they are sent out to stop us. But just throw out the twelve carcasses of the oxen, and they will be so much occupied with them that they will quite forget us.’ So the youth threw out the carcasses of the oxen, and then all the wild beasts in the forest, both bears and wolves, and lions, and grim beasts of all kinds, came. But when they caught sight of the carcasses of the oxen they began to fight for them till the blood flowed, and they entirely forgot Dapplegrim and the youth.So the youth rode onwards again, and many and many were the new scenes they saw, for travelling on Dapplegrim’s back was not travelling slowly, as may be imagined, and then Dapplegrim neighed.‘Do you hear anything? he said.‘Yes; I heard something like a foal neighing quite plainly a long, long way off,’ answered the youth.‘That’s a full-grown colt,’ said Dapplegrim, ‘if you hear it so plainly when it is so far away from us.’So they travelled onwards a long time, and saw one new scene after another once more. Then Dapplegrim neighed again.‘Do you hear anything now?’ said he.‘Yes; now I heard it quite distinctly, and it neighed like a full-grown horse,’ answered the youth.‘Yes, and you will hear it again very soon,’ said Dapplegrim; ‘and then you will hear what a voice it has.’ So they travelled on through many more different kinds of country, and then Dapplegrim neighed for the third time; but before he could ask the youth if he heard anything, there was such a neighing on the other side of the heath that the youth thought that hills and rocks would be rent in pieces.‘Now he is here!’ said Dapplegrim. ‘Be quick, and fling over me the ox-hides that have the spikes in them, throw the twelve tons of tar over the field, and climb up into that great spruce fir tree. When he comes, fire will spurt out of both his nostrils, and then the tar will catch fire. Now mark what I say—if the flame ascends I conquer, and if it sinks I fail; but if you see that I am winning, fling the bridle, which you must take off me, over his head, and then he will become quite gentle.’Just as the youth had flung all the hides with the spikes over Dapplegrim, and the tar over the field, and had got safely up into the spruce fir, a horse came with flame spouting from his nostrils, and the tar caught fire in a moment; and Dapplegrim and the horse began to fight until the stones leapt up to the sky. They bit, and they fought with their fore legs and their hind legs, and sometimes the youth looked at them. And sometimes he looked at the tar, but at last the flames began to rise, for wheresoever the strange horse bit or wheresoever he kicked he hit upon the spikes in the hides, and at length he had to yield. When the youth saw that, he was not long in getting down from the tree and flinging the bridle over the horse’s head, and then he became so tame that he might have been led by a thin string.This horse was dappled too, and so like Dapplegrim that no one could distinguish the one from the other. The youth seated himself on the dappled horse which he had captured, and rode home again to the King’s palace, and Dapplegrim ran loose by his side. When he got there, the King was standing outside in the courtyard.‘Can you tell me which is the horse I have caught, and which is the one I had before?’ said the youth. ‘If you can’t, I think your daughter is mine.’The King went and looked at both the dappled horses; he looked high and he looked low, he looked before and he looked behind, but there was not a hair’s difference between the two.‘No,’ said the King; ‘that I cannot tell thee, and as thou hast procured such a splendid bridal horse for my daughter thou shalt have her; but first we must have one more trial, just to see if thou art fated to have her. She shall hide herself twice, and then thou shalt hide thyself twice. If thou canst find her each time that she hides herself, and if she cannot find thee in thy hiding-places, then it is fated, and thou shalt have the Princess.’‘That, too, was not in our bargain,’ said the youth. ‘But we will make this trial since it must be so.’So the King’s daughter was to hide herself first.Then she changed herself into a duck, and lay swimming in a lake that was just outside the palace. But the youth went down into the stable and asked Dapplegrim what she had done with herself.‘Oh, all that you have to do is to take your gun, and go down to the water and aim at the duck which is swimming about there, and she will soon discover herself,’ said Dapplegrim.The youth snatched up his gun and ran to the lake. ‘I will just have a shot at that duck,’ said he, and began to aim at it.‘Oh, no, dear friend, don’t shoot! It is I,’ said the Princess. So he had found her once.The second time the Princess changed herself into a loaf, and laid herself on the table among four other loaves; and she was so like the other loaves that no one could see any difference between them.But the youth again went down to the stable to Dapplegrim, and told him that the Princess had hidden herself again, and that he had not the least idea what had become of her.‘Oh, just take a very large bread-knife, sharpen it, and pretend that you are going to cut straight through the third of the four loaves which are lying on the kitchen table in the King’s palace—count them from right to left—and you will soon find her,’ said Dapplegrim.So the youth went up to the kitchen, and began to sharpen the largest bread-knife that he could find; then he caught hold of the third loaf on the left-hand side, and put the knife to it as if he meant to cut it straight in two. ‘I will have a bit of this bread for myself,’ said he.‘No, dear friend, don’t cut, it is I!’ said the Princess again; so he had found her the second time.And now it was his turn to go and hide himself; but Dapplegrim had given him such good instructions that it was not easy to find him. First he turned himself into a horse-fly, and hid himself in Dapplegrim’s left nostril. The Princess went poking about and searching everywhere, high and low, and wanted to go into Dapplegrim’s stall too, but he began to bite and kick about so that she was afraid to go there, and could not find the youth. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘as I am unable to find you, you must show yourself; ‘whereupon the youth immediately appeared standing there on the stable floor.Dapplegrim told him what he was to do the second time, and he turned himself into a lump of earth, and stuck himself between the hoof and the shoe on Dapplegrim’s left fore foot. Once more the King’s daughter went and sought everywhere, inside and outside, until at last she came into the stable, and wanted to go into the stall beside Dapplegrim. So this time he allowed her to go into it, and she peered about high and low, but she could not look under his hoofs, for he stood much too firmly on his legs for that, and she could not find the youth.‘Well, you will just have to show where you are yourself, for I can’t find you,’ said the Princess, and in an instant the youth was standing by her side on the floor of the stable.‘Now you are mine!’ said he to the Princess.‘Now you can see that it is fated that she should be mine,’ he said to the King.‘Yes, fated it is,’ said the King. ‘So what must be, must.’Then everything was made ready for the wedding with great splendour and promptitude, and the youth rode to church on Dapplegrim, and the King’s daughter on the other horse. So everyone must see that they could not be long on their way thither.
“I am going to tell a story,” said the Wind.“I beg your pardon,” said the Rain, “but now it is my turn. Have you not been howling round the corner this long time, as hard as ever you could?”“Is this the gratitude you owe me?” said the Wind; “I, who in honor of you turn inside out—yes, even break—all the umbrellas, when the people won’t have anything to do with you.”“I will speak myself,” said the Sunshine. “Silence!” and the Sunshine said it with such glory and majesty that the weary Wind fell prostrate, and the Rain, beating against him, shook him, as she said:“We won’t stand it! She is always breaking through—is Madame Sunshine. Let us not listen to her; what she has to say is not worth hearing.” And still the Sunshine began to talk, and this is what she said:“A beautiful swan flew over the rolling, tossing waves of the ocean. Every one of its feathers shone like gold; and one feather drifted down to the great merchant vessel that, with sails all set, was sailing away.“The feather fell upon the light curly hair of a young man, whose business it was to care for the goods in the ship—the supercargo he was called. The feather of the bird of fortune touched his forehead, became a pen in his hand, and brought him such luck that he soon became a wealthy merchant, rich enough to have bought for himself spurs of gold—rich enough to change a golden plate into a nobleman’s shield, on which,” said the Sunshine, “I shone.”“The swan flew farther, away and away, over the sunny green meadow, where the little shepherd boy, only seven years old, had lain down in the shade of the old tree, the only one there was in sight.“In its flight the swan kissed one of the leaves of the tree, and falling into the boy’s hand, it was changed to three leaves—to ten—to a whole book; yes, and in the book he read about all the wonders of nature, about his native language, about faith and knowledge. At night he laid the book under his pillow, that he might not forget what he had been reading.“The wonderful book led him also to the schoolroom, and thence everywhere, in search of knowledge. I have read his name among the names of learned men,” said the Sunshine.“The swan flew into the quiet, lonely forest, and rested awhile on the deep, dark lake where the lilies grow, where the wild apples are to be found on the shore, where the cuckoo and the wild pigeon have their homes.“In the wood was a poor woman gathering firewood—branches and dry sticks that had fallen. She bore them on her back in a bundle, and in her arms she held her little child. She too saw the golden swan, the bird of fortune, as it rose from among the reeds on the shore. What was it that glittered so? A golden egg that was still quite warm. She laid it in her bosom, and the warmth remained. Surely there was life in the egg! She heard the gentle pecking inside the shell, but she thought it was her own heart that was beating.“At home in her poor cottage she took out the egg. ‘Tick! tick!’ it said, as if it had been a gold watch, but it was not; it was an egg—a real, living egg.“The egg cracked and opened, and a dear little baby swan, all feathered as with the purest gold, pushed out its tiny head. Around its neck were four rings, and as this woman had four boys—three at home, and this little one that was with her in the lonely wood—she understood at once that there was one for each boy. Just as she had taken them the little gold bird took flight.“She kissed each ring, then made each of the children kiss one of the rings, laid it next the child’s heart awhile, then put it on his finger. I saw it all,” said the Sunshine, “and I saw what happened afterward.“One of the boys, while playing by a ditch, took a lump of clay in his hand, then turned and twisted it till it took shape and was like Jason, who went in search of the Golden Fleece and found it.“The second boy ran out upon the meadow, where stood the flowers—flowers of all imaginable colors. He gathered a handful and squeezed them so tightly that the juice flew into his eyes, and some of it wet the ring upon his hand. It cribbled and crawled in his brain and in his hands, and after many a day and many a year, people in the great city talked of the famous painter that he was.“The third child held the ring in his teeth, and so tightly that it gave forth sound—the echo of a song in the depth of his heart. Then thoughts and feelings rose in beautiful sounds,—rose like singing swans,—plunged, too, like swans, into the deep, deep sea. He became a great musical composer, a master, of whom every country has the right to say, ‘He was mine, for he was the world’s.’“And the fourth little one—yes, he was the ‘ugly duck’ of the family. They said he had the pip and must eat pepper and butter like a sick chicken, and that was what was given him; but of me he got a warm, sunny kiss,” said the Sunshine. “He had ten kisses for one. He was a poet and was first kissed, then buffeted all his life through.“But he held what no one could take from him—the ring of fortune from Dame Fortune’s golden swan. His thoughts took wing and flew up and away like singing butterflies—emblems of an immortal life.”“That was a dreadfully long story,” said the Wind.“And so stupid and tiresome,” said the Rain. “Blow upon me, please, that I may revive a little.”And while the Wind blew, the Sunshine said: “The swan of fortune flew over the lovely bay where the fishermen had set their nets. The very poorest one among them was wishing to marry—and marry he did.“To him the swan brought a piece of amber. Amber draws things toward itself, and this piece drew hearts to the house where the fisherman lived with his bride. Amber is the most wonderful of incense, and there came a soft perfume, as from a holy place, a sweet breath from beautiful nature, that God has made. And the fisherman and his wife were happy and grateful in their peaceful home, content even in their poverty. And so their life became a real Sunshine Story.”“I think we had better stop now,” said the Wind. “I am dreadfully bored. The Sunshine has talked long enough.”“I think so, too,” said the Rain.And what do we others who have heard the story say?We say, “Now the story’s done.”
A Peacock taunted a Crane with the dullness of her plumage. “Look at my brilliant colours,” said she, “and see how much finer they are than your poor feathers.” “I am not denying,” replied the Crane, “that yours are far gayer than mine; but when it comes to flying I can soar into the clouds, whereas you are confined to the earth like any dunghill cock.”
Many years ago there lived in the town of Ping Cheng an old maid named San. No one knew where she came from. All that her neighbourhood could say about her was that for the last thirty years she had kept the cake shop on the wooden bridge, and that during the whole of that time she had lived quite by herself, employing neither man-servant nor maid-servant, nor had any relative been known to visit her. But notwithstanding this, report pronounced her to be rich. Her house was a large one, and she had mules in abundance. In order to save her guests part of the local carriage tax, she made it a practice not to receive their equipages, a proceeding which was highly approved of by them, and in consequence of those who had once put up at her hostelry, many repeated their visits.Now it happened that about this time the Emperor, “Great Harmony,” sent General Chaou, who was known as the “Slender and Kind One,” on an expedition to the eastern capital, and the General, passing through Ping Cheng with his six or seven servants, put up for the night at the shop on the wooden bridge. The servants were soon accommodated in a common room, and the “Slender and Kind One” was lodged in a separate apartment adjoining the dwelling-rooms of San.San paid the greatest attention to her guests, and when night came on served them with wine and helped them to drink it, making merry with all. The “Slender and Kind One” alone abstained from tasting the wine, but joined in the talking and laughing. When the watchman announced the second watch, and when most of her guests were sleeping the sleep of drunkards, San betook herself to her room, barred the door, and put out the light.In the middle of the night, as the “Slender and Kind One” lay tossing from this side to that, unable to sleep, he heard a noise in San’s room as though she were moving things about. His curiosity being excited, he peeped through a crevice and saw her light a candle and take out from a cloth-bound box a plough, a little wooden man, and a little wooden ox, each about six or seven inches high, and put them down in front of the fireplace. She then poured water on them and they instantly began to move and live. The little man harnessed the ox to the plough, and set to work ploughing up the part of the room in front of the bed. When he had prepared enough ground San gave him a sackful of wheat, which he sowed. In a very few minutes it sprouted through the ground and grew up until it flowered, brought forth fruit and ripened. The man then set to work to reap and thrash it, and presented to his mistress a crop of seven or eight pints of grain. This done, he was made to grind the corn in a small mill, and was then thrown, with his ox and his plough, into the box again.San now began her share of the work, and having well kneaded the flour, transformed it into baked cakes. At cock-crow the soldiers began to bestir themselves, but San was up before them, and had lighted their lamp and laid out the hot cakes in tempting array on the table.The “Slender and Kind One” was not very comfortable after what he had seen and heard, so he went outside the house; but, determined to 88see the end, he peeped through a crevice in the door. Suddenly, while he was watching his soldiers seated in a circle in the act of devouring the nice hot cakes, he heard a sound as of neighing, and, to his horror, he saw them in an instant all transformed into mules. The change was no sooner effected than San drove them into the yard at the back of the shop.The “Slender and Kind One” told no one what he had seen, but pondered much over the adventure in secret, and when at the end of a month he was returning by the same road, he again put up at the shop on the wooden bridge. But before entering the inn he provided himself with a number of cakes in size and form exactly like those he has seen so miraculously made.San professed herself delighted to see him, and, as he was the solitary guest, lavished attentions on him. When night came she diligently inquired his wishes.“I have business before me,” said the “Slender and Kind One,” “therefore call me at daybreak.”“Without fail,” said San, “but please to sleep soundly.”About midnight the “Slender and Kind One” arose and witnessed a repetition of what he had seen on the previous occasion. In the morning San was up early, and having laid out her guest’s breakfast, she set before him the hot cakes he knew so well.While, however, she was away getting other things, the “Slender and Kind One” managed to exchange one of the cakes he had brought with him for one of San’s, and, apologising to her, said he had supplied himself with cakes of his own, and therefore should not want any of hers. San waited attentively on her guest, and when he had finished eating brought him his tea.The “Slender and Kind One,” then addressing her, said:“Let me beg my hostess to try one of my cake,” at the same time handing the one he had taken in exchange for his own.San accepted it with thanks, but had hardly tasted it when she fell down to the ground neighing, and was instantly transformed into a fine strong mule.The “Slender and Kind One” saddled her, and then went to search for the little wooden man and ox. He found them, but, not knowing the spell, could do nothing with them. So he mounted the mule and returned home.His new acquisition carried him remarkably well, and made nothing of going one hundred miles a day.Four years after these events the “Slender and Kind One” was riding on his mule to the Huayan Temple; he passed an old man at the side of the road, who, on seeing him, clapped his hands and laughingly said:“Why, San of the wooden bridge, how is it that you have come to this?”Then, taking hold of the mule, he said to the “Slender and Kind One:” “Although she was originally very much to blame, she has done you good service. Have pity on her and allow me to set her free.”With that he opened the mule’s cheek and out jumped the old maid, looking the same as ever.Then, turning to the old man, she made him a grateful courtesy and walked off.What became of her I don’t know.
In the days of our forefathers, when there was nothing but wretched boats up in Nordland, and folks must needs buy fair winds by the sackful from the Gan-Finn, it was not safe to tack about in the open sea in wintry weather. In those days a fisherman never grew old. It was mostly womenfolk and children, and the lame and halt, who were buried ashore.Now there was once a boat’s crew from Thjöttö in Helgeland, which had put to sea, and worked its way right up to the East Lofotens.But that winter the fish would not bite.They lay to and waited week after week, till the month was out, and there was nothing for it but to turn home again with their fishing gear and empty boats.But Jack of Sjöholm, who was with them, only laughed aloud, and said that, if there were no fish there, fish would certainly be found higher northwards. Surely they hadn’t rowed out all this distance only to eat up all their victuals, said he.He was quite a young chap, who had never been out fishing before. But there was some sense in what he said for all that, thought the head-fisherman.And so they set their sails northwards.On the next fishing-ground they fared no better than before, but they toiled away so long as their food held out.And now they all insisted on giving it up and turning back.“If there’s none here, there’s sure to be some still higher up towards the north,” opined Jack; “and if they had gone so far, they might surely go a little further still,” quoth he.So they tempted fortune from fishing-ground to fishing-ground, till they had ventured right up to Finmark. But there a storm met them, and, try as they might to find shelter under the headlands, they were obliged at last to put out into the open sea again.There they fared worse than ever. They had a hard time of it. Again and again the prow of the boat went under the heavy rollers, instead of over them, and later on in the day the boat foundered.There they all sat helplessly on the keel in the midst of the raging sea, and they all complained bitterly against that fellow Jack, who had tempted them on, and led them into destruction. What would now become of their wives and children? They would starve now that they had none to care for them.When it grew dark, their hands began to stiffen, and they were carried off by the sea one by one.And Jack heard and saw everything, down to the last shriek and the last clutch; and to the very end they never ceased reproaching him for bringing them into such misery, and bewailing their sad lot.“I must hold on tight now,” said Jack to himself, for he was better even where he was than in the sea.And so he tightened his knees on the keel, and held on fast till he had no feeling left in either hand or foot.In the coal-black gusty night he fancied he heard yells from one or other of the remaining boats’ crews.“They, too, have wives and children,” thought he. “I wonder whether they have also a Jack to lay the blame upon!”Now while he thus lay there and drifted and drifted, and it seemed to him to be drawing towards dawn, he suddenly felt that the boat was in the grip of a strong shoreward current; and, sure enough, Jack got at last ashore. But whichever way he looked, he saw nothing but black sea and white snow.Now as he stood there, speering and spying about him, he saw, far away, the smoke of a Finn Gamme, which stood beneath a cliff, and he managed to scramble right up to it.The Finn was so old that he could scarcely move. He was sitting in the midst of the warm ashes, and mumbling into a big sack, and neither spoke nor answered. Large yellow humble-bees were humming about all over the snow, as if it were Midsummer; and there was only a young lass there to keep the fire alight, and give the old man his food. His grandsons and grand-daughters were with the reindeer, far far away on the Fjeld.Here Jack got his clothes well dried, and the rest he so much wanted. The Finn girl, Seimke, couldn’t make too much of him; she fed him with reindeer milk and marrow-bones, and he lay down to sleep on silver fox-skins.Cosy and comfortable it was in the smoke there. But as he thus lay there, ‘twixt sleep and wake, it seemed to him as if many odd things were going on round about him.“The Gann-Finn.” Illustration by Laurence Housman, published in Weird Tales from Northern Seas by Robert Lisbet Bain (1893), Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co.There stood the Finn in the doorway talking to his reindeer, although they were far away in the mountains. He barred the wolf’s way, and threatened the bear with spells; and then he opened his skin sack, so that the storm howled and piped, and there was a swirl of ashes into the hut. And when all grew quiet again, the air was thick with yellow humble-bees, which settled inside his furs, whilst he gabbled and mumbled and wagged his skull-like head.But Jack had something else to think about besides marvelling at the old Finn. No sooner did the heaviness of slumber quit his eyes than he strolled down to his boat.There it lay stuck fast on the beach and tilted right over like a trough, while the sea rubbed and rippled against its keel. He drew it far enough ashore to be beyond the reach of the sea-wash.But the longer he walked around and examined it, the more it seemed to him as if folks built boats rather for the sake of letting the sea in than for the sake of keeping the sea out. The prow was little better than a hog’s snout for burrowing under the water, and the planking by the keel-piece was as flat as the bottom of a chest. Everything, he thought, must be arranged very differently if boats were to be really seaworthy. The prow must be raised one or two planks higher at the very least, and made both sharp and supple, so as to bend before and cut through the waves at the same time, and then a fellow would have a chance of steering a boat smartly.He thought of this day and night. The only relaxation he had was a chat with the Finn girl of an evening.He couldn’t help remarking that this Seimke had fallen in love with him. She strolled after him wherever he went, and her eyes always became so mournful when he went down towards the sea; she understood well enough that all his thoughts were bent upon going away.And the Finn sat and mumbled among the ashes till his fur jacket regularly steamed and smoked.But Seimke coaxed and wheedled Jack with her brown eyes, and gave him honeyed words as fast as her tongue could wag, till she drew him right into the smoke where the old Finn couldn’t hear them.The Gan-Finn turned his head right round.“My eyes are stupid, and the smoke makes ’em run,” said he; “what has Jack got hold of there?”“Say it is the white ptarmigan you caught in the snare,” whispered she.And Jack felt that she was huddling up against him and trembling all over.Then she told him so softly that he thought it was his own thoughts speaking to him, that the Finn was angry and muttering mischief, and jöjking, against the boat which Jack wanted to build. If Jack were to complete it, said she, the Gan-Finn would no longer have any sale for his fair-winds in all Nordland. And then she warned him to look to himself and never get between the Finn and the Gan-flies.Then Jack felt that his boat might be the undoing of him. But the worse things looked, the more he tried to make the best of them.In the grey dawn, before the Finn was up, he made his way towards the sea-shore.But there was something very odd about the snow-hills. They were so many and so long that there was really no end to them, and he kept on trampling in deep and deeper snow and never got to the sea-shore at all. Never before had he seen the northern lights last so long into the day. They blazed and sparkled, and long tongues of fire licked and hissed after him. He was unable to find either the beach or the boat, nor had he the least idea in the world where he really was.At last he discovered that he had gone quite astray inland instead of down to the sea. But now, when he turned round, the sea-fog came close up against him, so dense and grey that he could see neither hand nor foot before him.By the evening he was well-nigh worn out with weariness, and was at his wits’ end what to do.Night fell, and the snowdrifts increased.As now he sat him down on a stone and fell a brooding and pondering how he should escape with his life, a pair of snow-shoes came gliding so smoothly towards him out of the sea-fog and stood still just in front of his feet.“As you have found me, you may as well find the way back also,” said he.So he put them on, and let the snow-shoes go their own way over hillside and steep cliff. He let not his own eyes guide him or his own feet carry him, and the swifter he went the denser the snowflakes and the driving sea-spray came up against him, and the blast very nearly blew him off the snow-shoes.Up hill and down dale he went over all the places where he had fared during the daytime, and it sometimes seemed as if he had nothing solid beneath him at all, but was flying in the air.Suddenly the snow-shoes stood stock still, and he was standing just outside the entrance of the Gan-Finn’s hut.There stood Seimke. She was looking for him.“I sent my snow-shoes after thee,” said she, “for I marked that the Finn had bewitched the land so that thou should’st not find the boat. Thy life is safe, for he has given thee shelter in his house, but it were not well for thee to see him this evening.”Then she smuggled him in, so that the Finn did not perceive it in the thick smoke, and she gave him meat and a place to rest upon.But when he awoke in the night, he heard an odd sound, and there was a buzzing and a singing far away in the air:“The Finn the boat can never bind,The Fly the boatman cannot find,But round in aimless whirls doth wind.”The Finn was sitting among the ashes and jöjking, and muttering till the ground quite shook, while Seimke lay with her forehead to the floor and her hands clasped tightly round the back of her neck, praying against him to the Finn God. Then Jack understood that the Gan-Finn was still seeking after him amidst the snowflakes and sea-fog, and that his life was in danger from magic spells.So he dressed himself before it was light, went out, and came tramping in again all covered with snow, and said he had been after bears in their winter retreats. But never had he been in such a sea-fog before; he had groped about far and wide before he found his way back into the hut again, though he stood just outside it.The Finn sat there with his skin-wrappings as full of yellow flies as a beehive. He had sent them out searching in every direction, but back they had all come, and were humming and buzzing about him.When he saw Jack in the doorway, and perceived that the flies had pointed truly, he grew somewhat milder, and laughed till he regularly shook within his skin-wrappings, and mumbled, “The bear we’ll bind fast beneath the scullery-sink, and his eyes I’ve turned all awry,5 so that he can’t see his boat,6 and I’ll stick a sleeping-peg in front of him till springtime.”But the same day the Finn stood in the doorway, and was busy making magic signs and strange strokes in the air.Then he sent forth two hideous Gan-flies, which flitted off on their errands, and scorched black patches beneath them in the snow wherever they went. They were to bring pain and sickness to a cottage down in the swamps, and spread abroad the Finn disease, which was to strike down a young bride at Bodö with consumption.But Jack thought of nothing else night and day but how he could get the better of the Gan-Finn.The lass Seimke wheedled him and wept and begged him, as he valued his life, not to try to get down to his boat again. At last, however, she saw it was no use–he had made up his mind to be off.Then she kissed his hands and wept bitterly. At least he must promise to wait till the Gan-Finn had gone right away to Jokmok in Sweden.On the day of his departure, the Finn went all round his hut with a torch and took stock.Far away as they were, there stood the mountain pastures, with the reindeer and the dogs, and the Finn’s people all drew near. The Finn took the tale of the beasts, and bade his grandsons not let the reindeer stray too far while he was away, and could not guard them from wolves and bears. Then he took a sleeping potion and began to dance and turn round and round till his breath quite failed him, and he sank moaning to the ground. His furs were all that remained behind of him. His spirit had gone–gone all the way over to Jokmok.There the magicians were all sitting together in the dark sea-fog beneath the shelter of the high mountain, and whispering about all manner of secret and hidden things, and blowing spirits into the novices of the black art.But the Gan-flies, humming and buzzing, went round and round the empty furs of the Gan-Finn like a yellow ring and kept watch.In the night Jack was awakened by something pulling and tugging at him as if from far away. There was as it were a current of air, and something threatened and called to him from the midst of the snowflakes outside–“Until thou canst swim like the duck or the drake,The egg thou’dst be hatching no progress shall make;The Finn shall ne’er let thee go southwards with sail,For he’ll screw off the wind and imprison the gale.”At the end of it the Gan-Finn was standing there, and bending right over him. The skin of his face hung down long and loose, and full of wrinkles, like an old reindeer skin, and there was a dizzying smoke in his eyes. Then Jack began to shiver and stiffen in all his limbs, and he knew that the Finn was bent upon bewitching him.Then he set his face rigidly against it, so that the magic spells should not get at him; and thus they struggled with one another till the Gan-Finn grew green in the face, and was very near choking.After that the sorcerers of Jokmok sent magic shots after Jack, and clouded his wits. He felt so odd; and whenever he was busy with his boat, and had put something to rights in it, something else would immediately go wrong, till at last he felt as if his head were full of pins and needles.Then deep sorrow fell upon him. Try as he would, he couldn’t put his boat together as he would have it; and it looked very much as if he would never be able to cross the sea again.But in the summer time Jack and Seimke sat together on the headland in the warm evenings, and the gnats buzzed and the fishes spouted close ashore in the stillness, and the eider-duck swam about.“If only some one would build me a boat as swift and nimble as a fish, and able to ride upon the billows like a sea-mew!” sighed and lamented Jack, “then I could be off.”“Would you like me to guide you to Thjöttö?” said a voice up from the sea-shore.There stood a fellow in a flat turned-down skin cap, whose face they couldn’t see.And right outside the boulders there, just where they had seen the eider-duck, lay a long and narrow boat, with high prow and stern; and the tar-boards were mirrored plainly in the clear water below; there was not so much as a single knot in the wood.“I would be thankful for any such guidance,” said Jack.When Seimke heard this, she began to cry and take on terribly. She fell upon his neck, and wouldn’t let go, and raved and shrieked. She promised him her snow-shoes, which would carry him through everything, and said she would steal for him the bone-stick from the Gan-Finn, so that he might find all the old lucky dollars that ever were buried, and would teach him how to make salmon-catching knots in the fishing lines, and how to entice the reindeer from afar. He should become as rich as the Gan-Finn, if only he wouldn’t forsake her.But Jack had only eyes for the boat down there. Then she sprang up, and tore down her black locks, and bound them round his feet, so that he had to wrench them off before he could get quit of her.“If I stay here and play with you and the young reindeer, many a poor fellow will have to cling with broken nails to the keel of a boat,” said he. “If you like to make it up, give me a kiss and a parting hug, or shall I go without them?”Then she threw herself into his arms like a young wild cat, and looked straight into his eyes through her tears, and shivered and laughed, and was quite beside herself.But when she saw she could do nothing with him, she rushed away, and waved her hands above her head in the direction of the Gamme.Then Jack understood that she was going to take counsel of the Gan-Finn, and that he had better take refuge in his boat before the way was closed to him. And, in fact, the boat had come so close up to the boulders, that he had only to step down upon the thwarts. The rudder glided into his hand, and aslant behind the mast sat some one at the prow, and hoisted and stretched the sail: but his face Jack could not see.Away they went.And such a boat for running before the wind Jack had never seen before. The sea stood up round about them like a deep snow-drift, although it was almost calm. But they hadn’t gone very far before a nasty piping began in the air. The birds shrieked and made for land, and the sea rose like a black wall behind them.It was the Gan-Finn who had opened his wind-sack, and sent a storm after them.“One needs a full sail in the Finn-cauldron here,” said something from behind the mast.The fellow who had the boat in hand took such little heed of the weather that he did not so much as take in a single clew.Then the Gan-Finn sent double knots11 after them.They sped along in a wild dance right over the firth, and the sea whirled up in white columns of foam, reaching to the very clouds.Unless the boat could fly as quick and quicker than a bird, it was lost.Then a hideous laugh was heard to larboard–“Anfinn Ganfinn gives mouth,And blows us right south;There’s a crack in the sack,With three clews we must tack.”And heeling right over, with three clews in the sail, and the heavy foremost fellow astride on the sheer-strake, with his huge sea-boots dangling in the sea-foam, away they scudded through the blinding spray right into the open sea, amidst the howling and roaring of the wind.The billowy walls were so vast and heavy that Jack couldn’t even see the light of day across the yards, nor could he exactly make out whether they were going under or over the sea-trough.The boat shook the sea aside as lightly and easily as if its prow were the slippery fin of a fish, and its planking was as smooth and fine as the shell of a tern’s egg; but, look as he would, Jack couldn’t see where these planks ended; it was just as if there was only half a boat and no more; and at last it seemed to him as if the whole of the front part came off in the sea-foam, and they were scudding along under sail in half a boat.When night fell, they went through the sea-fire, which glowed like hot embers, and there was a prolonged and hideous howling up in the air to windward.And cries of distress and howls of mortal agony answered the wind from all the upturned boat keels they sped by, and many hideously pale-looking folks clutched hold of their thwarts. The gleam of the sea-fire cast a blue glare on their faces, and they sat, and gaped, and glared, and yelled at the blast.Suddenly he awoke, and something cried, “Now thou art at home at Thjöttö, Jack!”And when he had come to himself a bit, he recognised where he was. He was lying over against the boulders near his boathouse at home. The tide had come so far inland that a border of foam gleamed right up in the potato-field, and he could scarcely keep his feet for the blast. He sat him down in the boathouse, and began scratching and marking out the shape of the Draugboat in the black darkness till sleep overtook him.When it was light in the morning, his sister came down to him with a meat-basket. She didn’t greet him as if he were a stranger, but behaved as if it were the usual thing for her to come thus every morning. But when he began telling her all about his voyage to Finmark, and the Gan-Finn, and the Draugboat he had come home in at night, he perceived that she only grinned and let him chatter. And all that day he talked about it to his sister and his brothers and his mother, until he arrived at the conclusion that they thought him a little out of his wits. When he mentioned the Draugboat they smiled amongst themselves, and evidently went out of their way to humour him. But they might believe what they liked, if only he could carry out what he wanted to do, and be left to himself in the out-of-the-way old boathouse.“One should go with the stream,” thought Jack; and if they thought him crazy and out of his wits, he ought to behave so that they might beware of interfering with him, and disturbing him in his work.So he took a bed of skins with him down to the boathouse, and slept there at night; but in the daytime he perched himself on a pole on the roof, and bellowed out that now he was sailing. Sometimes he rode astraddle on the roof ridge, and dug his sheath-knife deep into the rafters, so that people might think he fancied himself at sea, holding fast on to the keel of a boat.Whenever folks passed by, he stood in the doorway, and turned up the whites of his eyes so hideously, that every one who saw him was quite scared. As for the people at home, it was as much as they dared to stick his meat-basket into the boathouse for him. So they sent it to him by his youngest sister, merry little Malfri, who would sit and talk with him, and thought it such fun when he made toys and playthings for her, and talked about the boat which should go like a bird, and sail as no other boat had ever sailed.If any one chanced to come upon him unexpectedly, and tried to peep and see what he was about in the boathouse there, he would creep up into the timber-loft and bang and pitch the boards and planks about, so that they didn’t know exactly where to find him, and were glad enough to be off. But one and all made haste to climb over the hill again when they heard him fling himself down at full length and send peal after peal of laughter after them.So that was how Jack got folks to leave him at peace.He worked best at night when the storm tore and tugged at the stones and birchbark of the turf roof, and the sea-wrack came right up to the boathouse door.When it piped and whined through the fissured walls, and the fine snowflakes flitted through the cracks, the model of the Draugboat stood plainest before him. The winter days were short, and the wick of the train-oil lamp, which hung over him as he worked, cast deep shadows, so that the darkness came soon and lasted a long way into the morning, when he sought sleep in his bed of skins with a heap of shavings for his pillow.He spared no pains or trouble. If there was a board which would not run into the right groove with the others, though never so little, he would take out a whole row of them and plane them all round again and again.Now, one night, just before Christmas, he had finished all but the uppermost planking and the gabs. He was working so hard to finish up that he took no count of time.The plane was sending the shavings flying their briskest when he came to a dead stop at something black which was moving along the plank.It was a large and hideous fly which was crawling about and feeling and poking all the planks in the boat. When it reached the lowest keel-board it whirred with its wings and buzzed. Then it rose and swept above it in the air till, all at once, it swerved away into the darkness.Jack’s heart sank within him. Such doubt and anguish came upon him. He knew well enough that no good errand had brought the Gan-fly buzzing over the boat like that.So he took the train-oil lamp and a wooden club, and began to test the prow and light up the boarding, and thump it well, and go over the planks one by one. And in this way he went over every bit of the boat from stem to stern, both above and below. There was not a nail or a rivet that he really believed in now.But now neither the shape nor the proportions of the boat pleased him any more. The prow was too big, and the whole cut of the boat all the way down the gunwale had something of a twist and a bend and a swerve about it, so that it looked like the halves of two different boats put together, and the half in front didn’t fit in with the half behind. As he was about to look into the matter still further (and he felt the cold sweat bursting out of the roots of his hair), the train-oil lamp went out and left him in blank darkness.Then he could contain himself no longer. He lifted his club and burst open the boathouse door, and, snatching up a big cow-bell, he began to swing it about him and ring and ring with it through the black night.“Art chiming for me, Jack?” something asked. There was a sound behind him like the surf sucking at the shore, and a cold blast blew into the boathouse.There on the keel-stick sat some one in a sloppy grey sea-jacket, and with a print cap drawn down over its ears, so that its skull looked like a low tassel.Jack gave a great start. This was the very being he had been thinking of in his wild rage. Then he took the large baling can and flung it at the Draug.But right through the Draug it went, and rattled against the wall behind, and back again it came whizzing about Jack’s ears, and if it had struck him he would never have got up again.The old fellow, however, only blinked his eyes a little savagely.“Fie!” cried Jack, and spat at the uncanny thing–and back into his face again he got as good as he gave.“There you have your wet clout back again!” cried a laughing voice.But the same instant Jack’s eyes were opened and he saw a whole boat-building establishment on the sea-shore.And, there, ready and rigged out on the bright water, lay an Ottring, so long and shapely and shining that his eyes could not feast on it enough.The old ‘un blinked with satisfaction. His eyes became more and more glowing.“If I could guide you back to Helgeland,” said he, “I could put you in the way of gaining your bread too. But you must pay me a little tax for it. In every seventh boat you build ’tis I who must put in the keel-board.”Jack felt as if he were choking. He felt that the boat was dragging him into the very jaws of an abomination.“Or do you fancy you’ll worm the trick out of me for nothing?” said the gaping grinning Draug.Then there was a whirring sound, as if something heavy was hovering about the boathouse, and there was a laugh: “If you want the seaman’s boat you must take the dead man’s boat along with it. If you knock three times to-night on the keel-piece with the club, you shall have such help in building boats that the like of them will not be found in all Nordland.”Twice did Jack raise his club that night, and twice he laid it aside again.But the Ottring lay and frisked and sported in the sea before his eyes, just as he had seen it, all bright and new with fresh tar, and with the ropes and fishing gear just put in. He kicked and shook the fine slim boat with his foot just to see how light and high she could rise on the waves above the water-line.And once, twice, thrice, the club smote against the keel-piece.So that was how the first boat was built at Sjöholm.Thick as birds together stood a countless number of people on the headland in the autumn, watching Jack and his brothers putting out in the new Ottring.It glided through the strong current so that the foam was like a foss all round it.Now it was gone, and now it ducked up again like a sea-mew, and past skerries and capes it whizzed like a dart.Out in the fishing grounds the folks rested upon their oars and gaped. Such a boat they had never seen before.But if in the first year it was an Ottring, next year it was a broad heavy Femböring for winter fishing which made the folks open their eyes.And every boat that Jack turned out was lighter to row and swifter to sail than the one before it.But the largest and finest of all was the last that stood on the stocks on the shore.This was the seventh.Jack walked to and fro, and thought about it a good deal; but when he came down to see it in the morning, it seemed to him, oddly enough, to have grown in the night and, what is more, was such a wondrous beauty that he was struck dumb with astonishment. There it lay ready at last, and folks were never tired of talking about it.Now, the Bailiff who ruled over all Helgeland in those days was an unjust man who laid heavy taxes upon the people, taking double weight and tale both of fish and of eider-down, nor was he less grasping with the tithes and grain dues. Wherever his fellows came they fleeced and flayed. No sooner, then, did the rumour of the new boats reach him than he sent his people out to see what truth was in it, for he himself used to go fishing in the fishing grounds with large crews. When thus his fellows came back and told him what they had seen, the Bailiff was so taken with it that he drove straightway over to Sjöholm, and one fine day down he came swooping on Jack like a hawk. “Neither tithe nor tax hast thou paid for thy livelihood, so now thou shalt be fined as many half-marks of silver as thou hast made boats,” said he.Ever louder and fiercer grew his rage. Jack should be put in chains and irons and be transported northwards to the fortress of Skraar, and be kept so close that he should never see sun or moon more.But when the Bailiff had rowed round the Femböring, and feasted his eyes upon it, and seen how smart and shapely it was, he agreed at last to let Mercy go before Justice, and was content to take the Femböring in lieu of a fine.Then Jack took off his cap and said that if there was one man more than another to whom he would like to give the boat, it was his honour the Bailiff.So off the magistrate sailed with it.Jack’s mother and sister and brothers cried bitterly at the loss of the beautiful Femböring; but Jack stood on the roof of the boat-house and laughed fit to split.And towards autumn the news spread that the Bailiff with his eight men had gone down with the Femböring in the West-fjord.But in those days there was quite a changing about of boats all over Nordland, and Jack was unable to build a tenth part of the boats required of him. Folks from near and far hung about the walls of his boat-house, and it was quite a favour on his part to take orders, and agree to carry them out. A whole score of boats soon stood beneath the pent-house on the strand.He no longer troubled his head about every seventh boat, or cared to know which it was or what befell it. If a boat foundered now and then, so many the more got off and did well, so that, on the whole, he made a very good thing indeed out of it. Besides, surely folks could pick and choose their own boats, and take which they liked best.But Jack got so great and mighty that it was not advisable for any one to thwart him, or interfere where he ruled and reigned.Whole rows of silver dollars stood in the barrels in the loft, and his boat-building establishment stretched over all the islands of Sjöholm.One Sunday his brothers and merry little Malfri had gone to church in the Femböring. When evening came, and they hadn’t come home, the boatman came in and said that some one had better sail out and look after them, as a gale was blowing up.Jack was sitting with a plumb-line in his hand, taking the measurements of a new boat, which was to be bigger and statelier than any of the others, so that it was not well to disturb him.“Do you fancy they’re gone out in a rotten old tub, then?” bellowed he. And the boatman was driven out as quickly as he had come.But at night Jack lay awake and listened. The wind whined outside and shook the walls, and there were cries from the sea far away. And just then there came a knocking at the door, and some one called him by name.“Go back whence you came,” cried he, and nestled more snugly in his bed.Shortly afterwards there came the fumbling and the scratching of tiny fingers at the door.“Can’t you leave me at peace o’ nights?” he bawled, “or must I build me another bedroom?”But the knocking and the fumbling for the latch outside continued, and there was a sweeping sound at the door, as of some one who could not open it. And there was a stretching of hands towards the latch ever higher and higher.But Jack only lay there and laughed. “The Fembörings that are built at Sjöholm don’t go down before the first blast that blows,” mocked he.Then the latch chopped and hopped till the door flew wide open, and in the doorway stood pretty Malfri and her mother and brothers. The sea-fire shone about them, and they were dripping with water.Their faces were pale and blue, and pinched about the corners of the mouth, as if they had just gone through their death agony. Malfri had one stiff arm round her mother’s neck; it was all torn and bleeding, just as when she had gripped her for the last time. She railed and lamented, and begged back her young life from him.So now he knew what had befallen them.Out into the dark night and the darker weather he went straightway to search for them, with as many boats and folk as he could get together. They sailed and searched in every direction, and it was in vain.But towards day the Femböring came drifting homewards bottom upwards, and with a large hole in the keel-board.Then he knew who had done the deed.But since the night when the whole of Jack’s family went down, things were very different at Sjöholm.In the daytime, so long as the hammering and the banging and the planing and the clinching rang about his ears, things went along swimmingly, and the frames of boat after boat rose thick as sea fowl on an Æggevær.But no sooner was it quiet of an evening than he had company. His mother bustled and banged about the house, and opened and shut drawers and cupboards, and the stairs creaked with the heavy tread of his brothers going up to their bedrooms.At night no sleep visited his eyes, and sure enough pretty Malfri came to his door and sighed and groaned.Then he would lie awake there and think, and reckon up how many boats with false keel-boards he might have sent to sea. And the longer he reckoned the more draug-boats he made of it.Then he would plump out of bed and creep through the dark night down to the boathouse. There he held a light beneath the boats, and banged and tested all the keel-boards with a club to see if he couldn’t hit upon the seventh. But he neither heard nor felt a single board give way. One was just like another. They were all hard and supple, and the wood, when he scraped off the tar, was white and fresh.One night he was so tormented by an uneasiness about the new Sekstring, which lay down by the bridge ready to set off next morning, that he had no peace till he went down and tested its keel-board with his club.But while he sat in the boat, and was bending over the thwart with a light, there was a gulping sound out at sea, and then came such a vile stench of rottenness. The same instant he heard a wading sound, as of many people coming ashore, and then up over the headland he saw a boat’s crew coming along.They were all crooked-looking creatures, and they all leaned right forward and stretched out their arms before them. Whatever came in their way, both stone and stour, they went right through it, and there was neither sound nor shriek.Behind them came another boat’s crew, big and little, grown men and little children, rattling and creaking.And crew after crew came ashore and took the path leading to the headland.When the moon peeped forth Jack could see right into their skeletons. Their faces glared, and their mouths gaped open with glistening teeth, as if they had been swallowing water. They came in heaps and shoals, one after the other: the place quite swarmed with them.Then Jack perceived that here were all they whom he had tried to count and reckon up as he lay in bed, and a fit of fury came upon him.He rose in the boat and spanked his leather breeches behind and cried: “You would have been even more than you are already if Jack hadn’t built his boats!”But now like an icy whizzing blast they all came down upon him, staring at him with their hollow eyes.They gnashed their teeth, and each one of them sighed and groaned for his lost life.Then Jack, in his horror, put out from Sjöholm.But the sail slackened, and he glided into dead water. There, in the midst of the still water, was a floating mass of rotten swollen planks. All of them had once been shaped and fashioned together, but were now burst and sprung, and slime and green mould and filth and nastiness hung about them.Dead hands grabbed at the corners of them with their white knuckles and couldn’t grip fast. They stretched themselves across the water and sank again.Then Jack let out all his clews and sailed and sailed and tacked according as the wind blew.He glared back at the rubbish behind him to see if those things were after him. Down in the sea all the dead hands were writhing, and tried to strike him with gaffs astern.Then there came a gust of wind whining and howling, and the boat drove along betwixt white seething rollers.The weather darkened, thick snowflakes filled the air, and the rubbish around him grew greener.In the daytime he took the cormorants far away in the grey mist for his landmarks, and at night they screeched about his ears.And the birds flitted and flitted continually, but Jack sat still and looked out upon the hideous cormorants.At last the sea-fog lifted a little, and the air began to be alive with bright, black, buzzing flies. The sun burned, and far away inland the snowy plains blazed in its light.He recognised very well the headland and shore where he was now able to lay to. The smoke came from the Gamme up on the snow-hill there. In the doorway sat the Gan-Finn. He was lifting his pointed cap up and down, up and down, by means of a thread of sinew, which went right through him, so that his skin creaked.And up there also sure enough was Seimke.She looked old and angular as she bent over the reindeer-skin that she was spreading out in the sunny weather. But she peeped beneath her arm as quick and nimble as a cat with kittens, and the sun shone upon her, and lit up her face and pitch-black hair.She leaped up so briskly, and shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked down at him. Her dog barked, but she quieted it so that the Gan-Finn should mark nothing.Then a strange longing came over him, and he put ashore.He stood beside her, and she threw her arms over her head, and laughed and shook and nestled close up to him, and cried and pleaded, and didn’t know what to do with herself, and ducked down upon his bosom, and threw herself on his neck, and kissed and fondled him, and wouldn’t let him go.But the Gan-Finn had noticed that there was something amiss, and sat all the time in his furs, and mumbled and muttered to the Gan-flies, so that Jack dare not get between him and the doorway.The Finn was angry.Since there had been such a changing about of boats over all Nordland, and there was no more sale for his fair winds, he was quite ruined, he complained. He was now so poor that he would very soon have to go about and beg his bread. And of all his reindeer he had only a single doe left, who went about there by the house.Then Seimke crept behind Jack, and whispered to him to bid for this doe. Then she put the reindeer-skin around her, and stood inside the Gamme door in the smoke, so that the Gan-Finn only saw the grey skin, and fancied it was the reindeer they were bringing in.Then Jack laid his hand upon Seimke’s neck, and began to bid.The pointed cap ducked and nodded, and the Finn spat in the warm air; but sell his reindeer he would not.Jack raised his price.But the Finn heaved up the ashes all about him, and threatened and shrieked. The flies came as thick as snow-flakes; the Finn’s furry wrappings were alive with them.Jack bid and bid till it reached a whole bushel load of silver, and the Finn was ready to jump out of his skins.Then he stuck his head under his furs again, and mumbled and jöjked till the amount rose to seven bushels of silver.Then the Gan-Finn laughed till he nearly split. He thought the reindeer would cost the purchaser a pretty penny.But Jack lifted Seimke up, and sprang down with her to his boat, and held the reindeer-skin behind him, against the Gan-Finn.And they put off from land, and went to sea.Seimke was so happy, and smote her hands together, and took her turn at the oars.The northern light shot out like a comb, all greeny-red and fiery, and licked and played upon her face. She talked to it, and fought it with her hands, and her eyes sparkled. She used both tongue and mouth and rapid gestures as she exchanged words with it.Then it grew dark, and she lay on his bosom, so that he could feel her warm breath. Her black hair lay right over him, and she was as soft and warm to the touch as a ptarmigan when it is frightened and its blood throbs.Jack put the reindeer-skin over Seimke, and the boat rocked them to and fro on the heavy sea as if it were a cradle.They sailed on and on till night-fall; they sailed on and on till they saw neither headland nor island nor sea-bird in the outer skerries more.
Ituen was a young man of Calabar. He was the only child of his parents, and they were extremely fond of him, as he was of fine proportions and very good to look upon. They were poor people, and when Ituen grew up and became a man, he had very little money indeed, in fact he had so little food, that every day it was his custom to go to the market carrying an empty bag, into which he used to put anything eatable he could find after the market was over.At this time Offiong was king. He was an old man, but he had plenty of wives. One of these women, named Attem, was quite young and very good-looking. She did not like her old husband, but wished for a young and handsome husband. She therefore told her servant to go round the town and the market to try and find such a man and to bring him at night by the side door to her house, and she herself would let him in, and would take care that her husband did not discover him.That day the servant went all round the town, but failed to find any young man good-looking enough. She was just returning to report her ill-success when, on passing through the market-place, she saw Ituen picking up the remains of corn and other things which had been left on the ground. She was immediately struck with his fine appearance and strength, and saw that he was just the man to make a proper lover for her mistress, so she went up to him, and said that the queen had sent for him, as she was so taken with his good looks. At first Ituen was frightened and refused to go, as he knew that if the King discovered him he would be killed. However, after much persuasion he consented, and agreed to go to the queen’s side door when it was dark.When night came he went with great fear and trembling, and knocked very softly at the queen’s door. The door was opened at once by the queen herself, who was dressed in all her best clothes, and had many necklaces, beads, and anklets on. Directly she saw Ituen she fell in love with him at once, and praised his good looks and his shapely limbs. She then told her servant to bring water and clothes, and after he had had a good wash and put on a clean cloth, he rejoined the queen. She hid him in her house all the night.In the morning when he wished to go she would not let him, but, although it was very dangerous, she hid him in the house, and secretly conveyed food and clothes to him. Ituen stayed there for two weeks, and then he said that it was time for him to go and see his mother, but the queen persuaded him to stay another week, much against his will.When the time came for him to depart, the queen got together fifty carriers with presents for Ituen’s mother who, she knew, was a poor woman. Ten slaves carried three hundred rods; the other forty carried yams, pepper, salt, tobacco, and cloth. When all the presents arrived Ituen’s mother was very pleased and embraced her son, and noticed with pleasure that he was looking well, and was dressed in much finer clothes than usual; but when she heard that he had attracted the queen’s attention she was frightened, as she knew the penalty imposed on any one who attracted the attention of one of the king’s wives.Ituen stayed for a month in his parents’ house and worked on the farm; but the queen could not be without her lover any longer, so she sent for him to go to her at once. Ituen went again, and, as before, arrived at night, when the queen was delighted to see him again.In the middle of the night some of the king’s servants, who had been told the story by the slaves who had carried the presents to Ituen’s mother, came into the queen’s room and surprised her there with Ituen. They hastened to the king, and told him what they had seen. Ituen was then made a prisoner, and the king sent out to all his people to attend at the palaver house to hear the case tried. He also ordered eight Egbos to attend armed with machetes. When the case was tried Ituen was found guilty, and the king told the eight Egbo men to take him into the bush and deal with him according to native custom. The Egbos then took Ituen into the bush and tied him up to a tree; then with a sharp knife they cut off his lower jaw, and carried it to the king.When the queen heard the fate of her lover she was very sad, and cried for three days. This made the king angry, so he told the Egbos to deal with his wife and her servant according to their law. They took the queen and the servant into the bush, where Ituen was still tied up to the tree dying and in great pain. Then, as the queen had nothing to say in her defence, they tied her and the girl up to different trees, and cut the queen’s lower jaw off in the same way as they had her lover’s. The Egbos then put out both the eyes of the servant, and left all three to die of starvation. The king then made an Egbo law that for the future no one belonging to Ituen’s family was to go into the market on market day, and that no one was to pick up the rubbish in the market. The king made an exception to the law in favour of the vulture and the dog, who were not considered very fine people, and would not be likely to run off with one of the king’s wives, and that is why you still find vultures and dogs doing scavenger in the market-places even at the present time.
nce upon a time there was a husband and a wife. The husband was a tailor; so was the wife, and in addition was a good housekeeper. One day the husband found some things in the kitchen broken,—pots, glasses, plates. He asked: “How were they broken?” “How do I know?” answered the wife. “What do you mean by saying ‘how do I know?’ Who broke them?” “Who broke them? I, with the scissors,” said the wife, in anger. “With the scissors?” “With the scissors!” “Are you telling the truth? I want to know what you broke them with. If you don’t tell me, I will beat you.” “With the scissors!” (for she had the scissors in her hand). “Scissors, do you say?” “Scissors they were!” “Ah! what do you mean? Wait a bit; I will make you see whether it was you with the scissors.”So he tied a rope around her and began to lower her into the well, saying: “Come, how did you break them? You see I am lowering you into the well.” “It was the scissors!” The husband, seeing her so obstinate, lowered her into the well; and she, for all that, did not hold her tongue. “How did you break them?” said the husband. “It was the scissors.” Then her husband lowered her more, until she was half way down. “What did you do it with?” “It was the scissors.” Then he lowered her until her feet touched the water. “What did you do it with?” “It was the scissors!” Then he let her down into the water to her waist. “What did you do it with?” “It was the scissors!” “Take care!” cried her husband, enraged at seeing her so obstinate, “it will take but little to put you under the water. You had better tell what you did it with; it will be better for you. How is it possible to break pots and dishes with the scissors! What has become of the pieces, if they were cut?” “It was the scissors! the scissors!”Then he let go the rope. Splash! his wife is all under the water. “Are you satisfied now? Do you say any longer that it was with the scissors?” The wife could not speak any more, for she was under the water; but what did she do? She stuck her hand up out of the water, and with her fingers began to make signs as if she were cutting with the scissors. What could the poor husband do? He said: “I am losing my wife, and then I shall have to go after her. I will pull her out now, and she may say that it was the scissors or the shears.” Then he pulled her out, and there was no way of making her tell with what she had broken all those things in the kitchen.
One day a peasant was going by night with pots on his head. He journeyed on and on, and his horse became tired and came to a spot in front of God’s acre. The peasant ungirded the horse, set it to graze, but he could not get any sleep. He lay down and lay down, suddenly the grave began opening under him, and he felt it and leaped to his feet. Then the grave opened and the corpse with the coffin lid got out, with his white shroud on, got out and ran up to the church door, laid the coffin lid at the gate and himself went into the village.Now this peasant was a bold fellow : so he took the coffin lid and set it by his telega, and went to see what would come of it. Very soon the corpse came back, looked about him and could not find the coffin lid any-where, and began to hunt for it. And at last he came up to the peasant, and said, ” Give me my coffin lid, or else I will smash you to atoms.”“What are you bragging for?” answered the peasant, “I will break you up into little bits.”“Do, please, give it me, dear good man,” asked the corpse.“Well, I will give it you if you will tell me where you have been and what you have done.”“Oh, I have been in the village, and I there slew two young lads!”“Well, tell me how to revive them.”The corpse had no choice, so he answered, “Cut off the left lappet from my shroud and take it with you. When you come to the ibiza (hut) where the lads have died, scatter hot sparks into a pot and put the piece of my shirt there, then close the door and at the breath of it, they will revive at once.”So the peasant cut off the left lappet from the shroud and gave him back the coffin lid. Then the dead man went back into the grave and laid himself down in it. Then the cocks crowed and he could not lock it down properly : one corner of the coffin lid would perk upwards. The peasant noticed all this. Day was breaking, so he yoked his horse and went into the village.In a certain house he could hear the sound of lamentation and cries of grief: he went in there, and two youths lay dead. “Do not weep. I can revive them.”“Do revive them, kinsman : half of our goods we will give you,” said the relations.So the peasant did as the corpse had told him, and the lads revived. The parents were delighted, and they seized hold of the peasant, and they pinioned him with ropes. ” Now, doctor, we are going to take you up to the authorities. If you can revive them it must be you who killed them!”“What, good Christians! Have some fear for God!” the peasant shrieked, and he told what he had seen at night.Soon the news spread through the village, and the people assembled and rushed up to the cemetery, looked at the grave out of which the corpse had come, tore it up and dug into the dead man’s heart an oaken stake, so that he should never rise up and kill folks. And they rewarded the peasant greatly and led him home with honor.Once a carpenter was going home late at night from a strange village: he had been at a jolly feast at a friend’s house. As he came back an old friend met him who had died some ten years before.“How do you do? ”“How do you do?” said the walker, and he forgot that his friend had long ago taken the long road.“Come along with me : let us have a cup together once more. Let us go.”“I am so glad to have met you again, let us toast the occasion.”So they went into a hut and they had a drink and a talk. “Well, good-bye, time I went home!”“Stay, where are you going ? Come and stay the night with me.”“No, brother, do not ask me. It is no good. I have business at home tomorrow and must be there early.”“Well, good-bye.”“But why should you go on foot? Better come on my horse, and he will gallop along gaily.”“Thank you very much.”So he sat on the horse, and the horse galloped away like a whirlwind.Suddenly the cock crowed. It was a very terrible sight! Graves all around, and under the wayfarer a gravestone!A TALE OF THE DEADThey had discharged the soldier home, and he was going on his road, it may be far, it may be a short way, and he at last was nearing his village. Not far from his village there lived a miller in his mill : in past times the soldier had been great friends with him.Why should he not go and see his friend ? So he went. And the miller met him, greeted him kindly, brought a glass of wine, and they began speaking of all they had lived through and seen. This was towards the evening, and whilst the soldier was the miller’s guest it had become dark. So the soldier got ready to go into the village.But the miller said to him, ” Soldier, stay the night with me : it is late and you might come by some mishap.”“A terrible sorcerer has died, and at night he rises out of the grave, ranges about the village and terrifies the boldest : why, he might give you trouble.”What was the use of it ? Why, the soldier was a State servant, and a soldier cannot be drowned in the sea, nor be burned in the fire ! So he answered, ” I will go, for I should like to see my relatives as soon as I can.”So he set out ; and the road crossed a grave-yard. As he looked he saw a glow on one grave. “What is it?” he said. ” I must look at this.”So he went up, and beside a fire there sat the sorcerer, sewing shoes. “Hail, brother ! ” said the soldier.So the wizard looked, and asked, “What are you doing here?”“I only wanted to see what you are up to.”So the wizard threw down his work, and he invited the soldier to a wedding. “Let us go, brother, let us have a walk : there is a wedding now going on in the village.”“Very well,” said the soldier.So they went to the wedding, and were royally feasted and given to eat and drink.The wizard drank and drank, walked about and walked about, and grew angry, drove all the guests and the family out of the izba (hut), scattered all the wedding guests, took out two bladders and an awl, pricked the hands of the bride and bridegroom and drew their blood, filling the bladders with the blood. He did this and said to the soldier, “Now we will leave the house.”On the road the soldier asked him, “Tell me, why did you fill the bladders with the blood?”“So that the bride and bridegroom might die. Tomorrow nobody will be able to wake them up : I only know one means of reviving them.”“What is that?”“You must pierce the heels of the bride and bride-groom and pour the blood again into the wounds, their own blood into each. In my right pocket I have the bridegroom’s blood hidden, and in my left, the bride’s.”So the soldier listened and never said a single word.But the wizard went on boasting. “I, you know, carry out whatever I desire.”“Can you be overcome?”“Yes, certainly : if any one were to make a pile of aspen wood, one hundred cartloads in all, and to burn me on the pile, it can be done ; then I should be overcome. Only you must burn me in a cunning way. Out of my belly snakes, worms and all sorts of reptiles will creep ; jackdaws, magpies and crows will fly: you must catch them and throw them on the pile. If a single worm escapes, it will be no good, for I shall creep out into that worm.”So the soldier listened and remembered. So they had a long talk, and at last they came to the grave.“Now, my brother,” said the wizard, “I am going to tear you to bits ? Otherwise you will tell the tale!”“Now! Let’s argue this out! How are you going to tear me to bits; I am a servant of God and theTsar! ”So the wizard gnashed his teeth, howled, and threw himself on the soldier. But he drew out his sabre and dealt a backstroke. They tussled and struggled, and the soldier was almost exhausted. Ho, but this is a sorry ending! Then the cocks crowed and the wizard fell down breathless.The soldier got the bladders out of the wizard’s pockets, and went to his relations. He went in and he greeted them. And they asked him, “Have you ever seen such a fearful stir?”“No, I never have!”“Why, have you not heard ? There is a curse on our village: a wizard haunts it.”So they lay down and went to sleep.In the morning the soldier rose and began asking : “Is it true that there was a wedding celebrated here? ”So his kin answered him, “There was a wedding at the rich peasant’s house, only the bride and bridegroom died that same night. No, we don’t know at all of what they died.”“Where is the house?”So they showed him, and he said never a word, and went there, got there, and found the whole family in tears.“What are you wailing for?”So they told him the reason.“I can revive the bridal couple: what will you give me?”“Oh, you may take half of our possessions.”So the soldier did as the wizard had bidden him, and he revived the bride and bridegroom, and grief was turned to joy and merriment.They feasted the soldier and rewarded him.So he then turned sharp to the left and marched up to the starosta (Mayor) 1and bade him assemble all the peasants and prepare one hundred cartloads of aspen boughs. Then they brought the boughs into the cemetery, put them into a pile and raised the wizard out of the grave, put him on the faggots and burned him. And then all the people stood around, some with brushes, shovels andpokers. The pile lit up gaily and the wizard began to burn. His belly burst, and out of it crept snakes, worms and vermin of all sorts, and there flew jackdaws andmagpies. But the peasants beat them all into the fire as they came out, and did not let a single worm escape. So the wizard was burned, and the soldier collected his dust and scattered it to the four winds. Henceforth there was peace in the village.And the peasants thanked the soldier.He stayed in his country, stayed there until he was satisfied, and then with his money returned to the imperial service : he served his term, went on the re- tired list, and then lived out his life, living happily, loving the good things and shunning the ill.
Once on a time there were three Billy-goats, who were to go up to the hill-side to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was “Gruff.”On the way up was a bridge over a burn they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly Troll, with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker.So first of all came the youngest billy-goat Gruff to cross the bridge.“Trip, trap! trip, trap!” went the bridge.“Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” roared the Troll.“Oh! it is only I, the tiniest billy-goat Gruff; and I’m going up to the hill-side to make myself fat,” said the billy-goat, with such a small voice.“Now, I’m coming to gobble you up,” said the Troll.“Oh, no! pray don’t take me. I’m too little, that I am,” said the billy-goat; “wait a bit till the second billy-goat Gruff comes, he’s much bigger.”“Well! be off with you,” said the Troll.A little while after came the second billy-goat Gruff to cross the bridge.“Trip, trap! trip, trap! trip, trap!” went the bridge.“WHO’S THAT tripping over my bridge?” roared the Troll.“Oh! It’s the second billy-goat Gruff, and I’m going up to the hill-side to make myself fat,” said the billy-goat, who hadn’t such a small voice.“Now, I’m coming to gobble you up,” said the Troll.“Oh, no! don’t take me, wait a little till the big billy-goat Gruff comes, he’s much bigger.”“Very well! be off with you,” said the Troll.But just then up came the big billy-goat Gruff.“TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP!” went the bridge, for the billy-goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.“WHO’S THAT tramping over my bridge?” roared the Troll.“IT’S I! THE BIG BILLY-GOAT GRUFF,” said the billy-goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.“Now, I’m coming to gobble you up,” roared the Troll.“Well, come along! I’ve got two spears,And I’ll poke your eyeballs out at your ears;I’ve got besides two curling-stones,And I’ll crush you to bits, body and bones.”That was what the big billy-goat said; and so he flew at the Troll and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the burn, and after that he went up to the hill-side. There the billy-goats got so fat they were scarce able to walk home again; and if the fat hasn’t fallen off them, why they’re still fat; and so:Snip, snap, snout,This tale’s told out.
The wolf had the fox with him, and whatsoever the wolf wished, that the fox was compelled to do, for he was the weaker, and he would gladly have been rid of his master. It chanced that once as they were going through the forest, the wolf said, “Red-fox, get me something to eat, or else I will eat thee thyself.” Then the fox answered, “I know a farm-yard where there are two young lambs; if thou art inclined, we will fetch one of them.” That suited the wolf, and they went thither, and the fox stole the little lamb, took it to the wolf, and went away. The wolf devoured it, but was not satisfied with one; he wanted the other as well, and went to get it. As, however, he did it so awkwardly, the mother of the little lamb heard him, and began to cry out terribly, and to bleat so that the farmer came running there. They found the wolf, and beat him so mercilessly, that he went to the fox limping and howling. “Thou hast misled me finely,” said he; “I wanted to fetch the other lamb, and the country folks surprised me, and have beaten me to a jelly.” The fox replied, “Why art thou such a glutton?”Next day they again went into the country, and the greedy wolf once more said, “Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I will eat thee thyself.”Then answered the fox, “I know a farm-house where the wife is baking pancakes to-night; we will get some of them for ourselves.” They went there, and the fox slipped round the house, and peeped and sniffed about until he discovered where the dish was, and then drew down six pancakes and carried them to the wolf.“There is something for thee to eat,” said he to him, and then went his way. The wolf swallowed down the pancakes in an instant, and said, “They make one want more,” and went thither and tore the whole dish down so that it broke in pieces.This made such a great noise that the woman came out, and when she saw the wolf she called the people, who hurried there, and beat him as long as their sticks would hold together, till with two lame legs, and howling loudly, he got back to the fox in the forest. “How abominably thou hast misled me!” cried he, “the peasants caught me, and tanned my skin for me.”But the fox replied, “Why art thou such a glutton?”On the third day, when they were out together, and the wolf could only limp along painfully, he again said, “Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I will eat thee thyself.”The fox answered, “I know a man who has been killing, and the salted meat is lying in a barrel in the cellar; we will get that.”Said the wolf, “I will go when thou dost, that thou mayest help me if I am not able to get away.” “I am willing,” said the fox, and showed him the by-paths and ways by which at length they reached the cellar.There was meat in abundance, and the wolf attacked it instantly and thought, “There is plenty of time before I need leave off!” The fox liked it also, but looked about everywhere, and often ran to the hole by which they had come in, and tried if his body was still thin enough to slip through it.The wolf said, “Dear fox, tell me why thou art running here and there so much, and jumping in and out?”“I must see that no one is coming,” replied the crafty fellow. “Don’t eat too much!” Then said the wolf, “I shall not leave until the barrel is empty.”In the meantime the farmer, who had heard the noise of the fox’s jumping, came into the cellar.When the fox saw him he was out of the hole at one bound. The wolf wanted to follow him, but he had made himself so fat with eating that he could no longer get through, but stuck fast. Then came the farmer with a cudgel and struck him dead, but the fox bounded into the forest, glad to be rid of the old glutton.
A boy was hunting for locusts. He had caught a goodly number, when he saw a Scorpion, and mistaking him for a locust, reached out his hand to take him. The Scorpion, showing his sting, said: “If you had but touched me, my friend, you would have lost me, and all your locusts too!”
Fritz, Franz, and Hans were charcoal-burners. They lived with their mother in the depths of a forest, where they very seldom saw the face of another human being. Hans, the youngest, did not remember ever having lived anywhere else, but Fritz and Franz could just call to mind sunny meadows, in which they played as little children, plucking the flowers and chasing the butterflies. Indeed, Fritz was able to compare the present state of miserable poverty in which they lived with the ease and comfort they had enjoyed in years gone by.Once upon a time they were well off. They had enough to eat every day; they lived in a comfortable house, surrounded by a nice garden, and with plenty of kind neighbours around them. Then came a change. Their father lost his money and was forced to leave this pleasant home, and to earn bread for his family by becoming a charcoal-burner. Everything now became different. Their house was a poor hut, composed of a few logs of wood knocked roughly together. Dry black bread with, occasionally, a few potatoes and lentils, and now and then, as a great treat, a little porridge, was their meals. And to have even this they had to work hard from morning till night. But their father was brave and patient, and, while he was alive, the wolf was kept some distance from the door. Besides, he could always put some heart into the boys when they began to flag, by a joke or a pleasant story. But he had died a year ago, owing to an accident he met with while chopping wood for the furnace, and since his death matters had been going from bad to worse with the family.Fritz and Franz were, unfortunately, selfish, ill-conditioned lads, who made the worst instead of the best of their troubles, and who even grudged their mother and brother their share of the food. Hans, on the other hand, was a good boy. He always had a cheerful smile or word, and did all in his power to help his mother to keep in good spirits. One day, at dinner time, they were startled by a knock at the door. A knock at the door does not seem to us, perhaps, to be a very startling thing, but they, as I said, so seldom saw a strange face near their home that this knock at the door quite took away their breath. When it came, Fritz and Franz were sitting over the fire munching their last piece of black bread, and grumbling to each other as was their custom, while Hans, seated on the bed beside his mother, was telling her about what he saw and what he fancied when he was in the forest. Fritz was the first to recover himself, and he growled out, in his usual surly tone, “Come in.” The door opened, and a gentleman entered. From his green dress, the gun that he carried in his hand, and the game-bag slung by his side, they saw that he was a huntsman, who had been amusing himself with shooting the game in the forest.“Good morning, good friends,” he said, in a cheerful tone. “Could you provide me with a cup of water and a mouthful of something to eat? I have forgotten to bring anything with me, and am ravenously hungry, and far from home.”Fritz and Franz first threw a scowl from under their eyebrows at the stranger in reply, then gave a grunt, and continued munching at their hunks of bread. Hans, however, was more polite. The only seats in the hut were occupied by Fritz and Franz, and as they showed no disposition to move, Hans dragged a log of wood from a corner and placed it before the visitor, and invited him to sit down. Then he produced a cup, scrupulously clean indeed, but sadly cracked and chipped, and, running outside, he filled it from a spring of delicious, cool water, which rose near the hut. As he had been busy talking to his mother, he had had no time to eat his share of the black bread, and so he handed his coarse crust to the stranger, saying he was sorry that there was nothing better to offer him.“Thank you,” said the stranger, courteously. “Hunger is the best sauce. There is no lunch I like so well as this.” And he set to work with such a good will that, in a very short time, poor Hans’s crust had vanished, and there was nothing left before the stranger but a few crumbs of bread on the table, and a few drops of water in the cup. These he kneaded carelessly together into a little pellet, about the size of a pea, while Hans told him, in answer to his questions, all about their lonely life in the forest, and the hardships which they had to endure.When the stranger rose to go he said, “Well, I thank you heartily for your hospitality—now I will give you a word of advice. One of you lads should go and seek the sparkling golden water, which turns everything it touches into gold.”Fritz and Franz pricked up their ears at this, and both at once demanded where this sparkling golden water was to be found. The stranger turned toward them, courteously, although these were the first words they had spoken since his entrance, and replied:“The sparkling golden water is to be found in the forest of dead trees, on the farther side of those blue mountains, which you may see on any clear day in the far distance. It is a three weeks’ journey on foot from here.”Then, bowing to his hosts, he stepped toward the door. Hans, however, was there first, and opened it for him. Obeying a sign from the stranger, Hans followed him a little way from the hut. Then the stranger, taking from his pocket the little black bread pellet, said, “I know, because you gave me your dinner, that you will have to go hungry. I have no money to offer you, but here is something that will be of far greater value to you than money. Keep this pellet carefully, and when you seek the sparkling golden water, as I know you will, don’t forget to bring it with you. Now go back: you must follow me no farther.” So saying, the stranger waved his hand to Hans, and, plunging into the thicket, disappeared. Hans slipped the pellet into his pocket and re-entered the hut, where he found his brothers in loud dispute about the sparkling golden water. They were much too interested in the matter to pay any attention to Hans or to ask him, as he was afraid they would, whether the stranger had given him any money before he left. As he came in, he heard Fritz saying in a loud voice:“I’m the eldest, and I will go first to get the sparkling golden water. When I’ve got it I will buy all the land hereabouts and become Count. I will hunt every day, and have lots of good wine; and sometimes, if I’m passing near here, I’ll just look in to see how you all are, and to show you my fine clothes, and horses, and dogs, and servants.” Fritz was, for him, almost gracious at the bright prospect before him.“I don’t care whether you’re the eldest or not,” growled Franz, stubbornly, “I shall go, too, to find the sparkling golden water. When I’ve found it I will buy the Burgomaster’s office, and live in his house in the town yonder, and wear his fur robes and gold chain; and, best of all, walk at the head of all the grand processions. None of your wild hunting for me—give me ease and comfort.”At last it was decided, after a great deal of squabbling, that Fritz as the eldest should go first in search of the sparkling golden water, and accordingly next day he set out. Hans ventured to hint that the first thing to be done with this sparkling golden water when it was found should be to provide a comfortable home for their mother, but Fritz’s only answer to this was a blow, and an angry order to Hans to mind his own business.We cannot follow Fritz all the way on his journey. As he had no money he was forced to beg at the doors of the cottages and farmhouses which he passed, for food and shelter for the night. Now, this proved to be rather hard work, because nobody very much liked his looks or his manner; and people only gave him spare scraps now and then in order to get him to go away as soon as possible. However, he found himself, at last, approaching the forest of dead trees. He knew that it was the forest, although there was nobody there to tell him so. He had not, in fact, seen any human being for the last three days, but he felt that he could not be mistaken. A vast forest of enormous trees lifted leafless, sapless branches to the sky, and every breath of wind rattled them together like the bones of a skeleton. When he was about twenty yards from the forest a terrible sound came from it. It was as though a thousand horses were neighing and screaming all at once. Fritz’s heart stood still. He wanted to run away, but his legs refused to move. As he stood there, shaking and quaking, there rushed out of the forest a huge unicorn with a spiral golden horn on his forehead.“What seek you here?” asked the unicorn, in a voice of thunder. Fritz stammered out that he sought the sparkling golden water.“What want you with the sparkling golden water, which is in my charge?” thundered the unicorn.Fritz was almost too frightened to speak. He fell on his knees, put up his hands, and cried: “Oh, good Mr. Unicorn, oh, kind Mr. Unicorn, pray don’t hurt me!”The unicorn stamped furiously on the ground with his right forefoot. “Say this instant,” he cried, “what it is that you want with the sparkling golden water!”“I want to get money to buy land and become a Count,” Fritz was just able to gasp out. The unicorn said nothing; he simply lowered his head, and with his golden horn tossed Fritz three hundred and forty-five feet in the air. Up went Fritz like a sky-rocket, and down he came like its stick, turning somersaults all the way. Fortunately for him, his fall was broken by the branches of one of the dead trees. If it had not been for this he would probably have been seriously hurt. Through these branches he crashed until he reached the point where they joined the trunk. The tree was hollow here, and Fritz tumbled down to the bottom of the trunk and found himself a prisoner. While he was feeling his arms and legs, to find out if any bones were broken or not, he had the satisfaction of hearing the unicorn, as he trotted back into the forest, muttering, loud enough for his words to pierce the bark and wood of Fritz’s prison:—“So much for you and your Countship!”Fritz tried to get out, but in vain. The tree was too smooth and slippery and high for him to be able to clamber up, and he only hurt himself every time he attempted to escape. There was nothing for it, then, but for him to lie down and howl. He had to satisfy his hunger as best he might, by eating the stray worms and woodlice and fungi, which he found creeping, crawling, and growing round about the roots of the tree. We will leave him there for the present and return to the others.Franz, Hans, and their mother waited and waited for Fritz to come back. Hans and his mother could not believe it possible that, when he had secured the sparkling golden water, he would leave them in their poverty. Franz, on the other hand, judging Fritz by himself, thought that nothing was more likely. And Franz was most probably right. Six weeks was the shortest time in which Fritz could be home again. “Unless,” said Hans, “he buys a horse and rides back, as he will be very well able to do when he has got the sparkling golden water.” But six weeks passed, and two months, and three months, and no Fritz, either on horseback or afoot. Then Franz’s patience came to an end. He must needs go, too.“I won’t wait here starving any longer,” said he; “Fritz has forgotten all about us. I’ll get the sparkling golden water and become Burgomaster.” So off he set, following the same road as Fritz, and meeting with much the same difficulties. They were, however, rather greater in his case than in his brother’s. Folk remembered the ill-conditioned Fritz only too well, and Franz was so like him in looks and manner, that they shut the door in his face the moment he appeared, and ran upstairs and called out from the top windows of their houses, “Go away! There’s nothing for you here. The big dog’s loose in the yard. Go away, charcoal-burner.”However, by dint of perseverance, in which to say the truth he was not lacking, Franz, very hungry and sulky, reached the verge of the forest of dead trees. Out came the unicorn and asked his business. On Franz replying that he wanted the sparkling golden water in order to buy the house and post of Burgomaster, the unicorn tossed him into the air, and he tumbled into the same tree as Fritz. Then the unicorn trotted back into the forest, muttering, for Franz’s benefit: “So much for you and your Burgomastership!”The months passed by, but no news came to Hans and his mother of Fritz and Franz. Meanwhile Hans found that it became daily more difficult for him to earn enough money to support two people. Moreover, he saw that his mother was growing weaker, and he feared that she would die unless she had proper food and nourishment. At last he said:“Mother, if there were only some one to take care of you, I would go in search of Fritz and Franz. You may be sure they have got the sparkling golden water by this time. They would never refuse me a few guldern, if I were to ask them and tell them how ill you are.”But Hans’s mother did not at all like the idea of his leaving her, and she begged and prayed him not to go. He felt obliged, therefore, to submit, and stayed on for a little longer, until at last even his mother saw that they must either starve or do as Hans suggested. Most fortunately at this time there dropped in to see them another charcoal-burner, whom Hans used to call “Uncle Stoltz,” although he was no uncle at all, but only a good-natured neighbour and an old friend of Hans’s father. Uncle Stoltz strongly urged the mother to let her boy go in search of his brothers, adding, although he was nearly as poor as they were themselves:“You come and live with me and my wife. While we have a crust to divide you shan’t want.”So Hans’s mother gave a reluctant consent, and went to live with Uncle Stoltz, while Hans went out in search of his brothers. By making inquiries he easily found the road which they had taken, but nobody ever thought of shutting the door in his face. On the contrary, his polite manners and cheerful looks made him a welcome guest at every cottage and farmstead at which he stopped. At last he, too, found himself on the verge of the forest of dead trees and face to face with the golden-horned unicorn. But Hans was not to be frightened as his brothers had been by the terrible voice and awe-striking appearance of the guardian of the fountain. In reply to the usual question, given in the usual tone of thunder: “What seek you here?” Hans replied, coolly, “I seek my brothers, Fritz and Franz.”“They are where you will never find them,” said the unicorn, “so go home again.”“If I cannot find my brothers,” said Hans, firmly, “I will not go home without the sparkling golden water.”“What want you with the sparkling golden water, which is in my charge?” asked the unicorn, in his terrible voice.“I want to buy food and wine and comforts for my mother; who is very ill,” answered Hans, undaunted. But his eyes filled with tears as he thought of his mother.The unicorn spoke more gently.“Have you,” he asked, “the crystal ball? Because without it I cannot allow you to pass to the sparkling golden water.”“The crystal ball!” echoed Hans. “I never heard of such a thing.”“That’s a pity,” said the unicorn, gravely; “I’m afraid you will have to go home without the water; but, stay, feel in your pockets. You may have had the ball, and put it somewhere, and have forgotten all about it.”Hans smiled at the idea of the crystal ball lying, unknown to him, in his pockets, but he followed the suggestion of the unicorn; and found, as he knew he should find, nothing at all, except, indeed, the pellet of black bread which the stranger-huntsman had given him, and which he had not thought of from that day to this. “No,” he said to the unicorn, “I have nothing in my pocket, except this pellet,” and he was about to throw it away when the unicorn called out to him to stop.“Let me see it,” he said. “Why,” he went on, “this is the crystal ball—look!”Hans did look, and sure enough he found in his hand a tiny globe of crystal. He examined it with amazement. “Well,” he said, “all I know is that a second ago it was a black-bread pellet.”“That may be,” said the unicorn, carelessly; “anyhow, it is a crystal ball now, and the possession of it makes me your servant. It is my duty to carry you to the fountain of sparkling golden water, if you wish to go. Have you brought a flask with you?”“No,” said Hans. “Fritz took the only flask we had, and Franz an old bottle.”“Fritz, eh? Well, follow me a little way.” So saying, the unicorn led Hans to the tree in which his brothers were imprisoned and, motioning him to be silent, cried out:“Ho! Master Count, throw out the flask you have with you, if you please: it is wanted.”“‘Shan’t,” growled Fritz’s voice in reply, “unless you promise to let me out.”“Oh, you won’t, won’t you?” said the unicorn; “well, we’ll see.”With that he drew back a few steps, and then, running forward, thrust his sharp horn into the side of the hollow trunk from which Fritz’s voice had issued. A loud yell came from the spot, showing that the horn had run into some tender part of Fritz’s body, and at the same instant, the flask appeared flying out of the hole in the tree by which Fritz and Franz had entered.“That’s right,” said the unicorn, “now we shall do comfortably. Get on my back, grasp my mane tightly, hold your breath, and shut your eyes.”“If you please,” said Hans, “will you set Fritz and Franz free first?”The unicorn looked annoyed. “They are doing very well there,” he said; “why should you disturb them? But you’re my master, and I must do as you please. Only, take my word, you will be sorry for this afterward.”Their protestations of affection rather disgusted Hans, only, as he was a good-hearted boy himself, he could not help being moved by them. He then told his brothers in what state he had left his mother, and how he was to be taken by the unicorn to get the sparkling golden water.“Oh!” cried the brothers, “can’t you take us, too?”The unicorn thought it time to interfere. “No one can be taken there, but the owner of the crystal ball,” he said. “Come, master, it is time for you to mount.”Hans clambered nimbly into his seat on the unicorn’s back. “Wait for me here,” he called out to his brothers. “I shall not be long.” Then Hans shut his eyes, held his breath, and grasped the unicorn tightly by the mane. It was as well that he did so, for the unicorn gave a bound that carried him over the tops of the highest trees, and would certainly have thrown him off unless he had been very firmly seated. Three such bounds did he take, and then he paused and said to Hans, “Now you may open your eyes.” Hans found himself in a desolate, rocky valley, without a trace of vegetation—unless the forest of dead trees, which clothed the valley on every side, might be taken as vegetation. In the midst of the valley there sprang up a fountain of water, which sparked with such intense brilliancy that Hans was unable at first to look upon it.“There, master,” said the unicorn, turning his head, “this is the fountain of sparkling golden water. Dismount, and fill your flask. But take care that you do not allow your hand to touch the water. If it does it will be turned into gold, and will never become flesh and blood again.”“Now, master,” said the unicorn when Hans got back, “do you still intend to return to those brothers of yours? Or shall I put you out of the forest at some other point?”“Certainly,” replied Hans; “I intend to return to them. You heard them say how sorry they were for all the unkindness they had shown to my mother and me. I know they mean to do better for the future. Besides, I promised them to come back.”The unicorn said nothing, but grunted in a discouraging manner, and motioned to Hans to get on his back. When he was seated the unicorn said:“Since this is your wish, you must have it. I have, however, three pieces of advice to give you. On your way home your brothers will offer to carry the flask—do not let them do so; also do not let them get behind you for a moment; and thirdly, guard the crystal ball with the utmost care. I can’t go with you beyond the verge of the forest of dead trees. One visit, and only one, is permitted to the fountain. You therefore can never come here again. But if ever you need me sorely, crush the crystal ball, and I will be with you. Now shut your eyes, we must be off.”Three bounds brought them to the side of Fritz and Franz; and Hans having thanked the unicorn warmly for his kindness, the three brothers began to retrace their steps homeward. Now, during Hans’s absence at the fountain, Fritz and Franz had been devising how they might rob him of the flask of sparkling golden water.As soon, therefore, as they were out of sight of the unicorn, Fritz and Franz begged and prayed Hans to allow one of them to carry the flask.“You’ve had all the trouble of getting the water,” they said; “we ought at least to be allowed the honour of helping you carry it. Besides, are we not your servants now that you are so rich? It is not suitable for you to do all the work.” But Hans remembered the unicorn’s words, and held firmly to his flask.“No,” he said, “thank you; but I’ll carry it myself.” Then Fritz and Franz pretended to get sulky and tried to drop behind, but Hans would not allow this, either. The consequence was that the three made very slow progress homeward. Toward the evening they came to a deep stream, which they had to re-cross. It was only fordable at one point, as they all knew, because they had, of course, already crossed it before. Hans stood aside to allow Fritz and Franz to go on first, but each of them went in a little way, and ran back, saying that they were afraid of being drowned.“What nonsense,” said Hans, who was getting a little impatient at the delay; “it’s quite shallow,” and, forgetting the unicorn’s warning, he entered the stream first. Fritz and Franz did not miss the opportunity. Each took a large stone and struck Hans violently on the head. Then as he fell back senseless into the water, Fritz snatched the flask from off the belt to which it was attached, and Franz thrust with his foot Hans’s body farther into the river, so that the current should carry it away, and, laughing at their own cleverness, the two proceeded to cross the ford.“Well,” he said, “thank goodness I have a couple of feet left me. I shall be off, I can’t wait for you. You must hobble on as best you can, or stay here and starve,” and he was on the point of leaving Franz to his fate, when the latter caught him by the collar.“If I’ve only one foot, I have two hands,” cried he, “and I don’t intend to let you leave me behind. No, no; we must go together or not at all.”Fritz was obliged to submit, as it was a case of two hands against one; and he and Franz, arm in arm as though they were the most affectionate brothers, made their way slowly to the nearest town. There they had to submit to have hand and foot cut off. The operation hurt them very much indeed, but they sold the gold for a good sum of money to the goldsmith. With that, and with what they got for the flask, Fritz was able to buy his Countship, although he could never hunt owing to the loss of his right hand, and Franz was able to buy his Burgomastership, although the loss of his foot prevented his walking properly in processions. Neither of them, of course, gave a thought to their mother.Now we must return to poor Hans, whom we left floating down the stream—senseless, and to all appearance dead. He was not dead, however, although the blows which his brothers had inflicted were very severe ones. He was only stunned, and fortunately he did not float far enough to be drowned. His body came into a back eddy of the stream and drifted gently on to a shelving bank of white sand. The cold water soon had the effect of bringing him to his senses so far as to enable him to crawl on to the land. It was, however, some hours before he was able to recall the past events. When he remembered them he gave way to despair. All the pains he had taken to win the sparkling golden water were thrown away. He might not return to get more—the unicorn had told him that. His mother would be as badly off as ever. Above all, he had the bitter disappointment of feeling that his brothers had deceived him. Then he bethought him of the crystal ball. Taking it from his pocket, he placed it on a large stone, and taking another stone struck it with all his force. A report like that of a cannon followed, and at the same instant the unicorn stood before him.“I warned you of what would happen,” he said to Hans. “You would have done much better if you had left your brothers in the tree. Now let me see what can be done for you. First of all, rub that dockleaf, which is touching your right hand, on the wound in your head.” Hans did as he was told, and his head became as sound as ever. “Now,” said the unicorn, “you must go straight home to your mother and bring her to the city of White Towers, and stay there till you hear from me again.”“But,” said Hans, with tears in his eyes, “how can I do that? My mother is much too ill to move, and I have lost the sparkling golden water which was to have made her well and strong.”“Did not I see you,” asked the unicorn, “put some sand and stones of pure gold into your pocket as you went to the fountain? There will be more than enough to meet all your expenses. Do as I tell you,” and the unicorn, saying this, disappeared.Hans, greatly cheered, set off once more, and finished his journey home without any further adventures. The gold that he had with him, not only enabled him to provide the comforts and necessaries which his mother required, but he was able also to reward Uncle Stoltz for his kindness. When his mother was strong enough to travel, Hans hired a wagon, and they set off by easy stages for the city of White Towers, there to await further news from the unicorn.Now, the city of White Towers was at that time attracting from far and wide every one who wanted to make his fortune. The Princess of the city was the loveliest Princess in the world, and the richest and the most powerful. She had given out that she would marry any one, whoever it might be, king or beggar, who would tell her truly in the morning the dream that she had dreamed in the night. But whoever should compete and fail, was to forfeit all his fortune, be whipped through the streets and out of the gate, and banished from the city on pain of death. If, however, he had no fortune to forfeit, he was to be whipped back again and sold into slavery. The terms were hard; but many tried and failed, and many more, undeterred by the punishment which they constantly saw being inflicted on the others, were waiting their turn to compete. Among these latter were Count Fritz and Burgomaster Franz. These two met very often in the streets of the city, but they could never forget their quarrel over the sparkling golden water and when they met they always looked in opposite directions. Now, Fritz and Franz had made themselves hated by all with whom they had to deal; Fritz by his tyranny over the poor in the district in which his property lay, and Franz by his injustice as Burgomaster. The former used to grind down his people so as to extract the last penny from them; the latter used to make his judgments depend on the amount of bribe he received from the suitors. Everybody, therefore, hoped that both Fritz and Franz would fail to tell the Princess her dreams, and would have to pay the penalty.Hans and his mother arrived at the city of White Towers on the evening before the day on which Fritz was to try his fortune. They heard on all sides that the “One-armed Count,” as he was called, was to be the next competitor; but, of course, they had no idea that this “One-armed Count” was Fritz. The consequence was that, when they found themselves next day in the great square, where the whole population of the city assembled to see the trial, they were amazed beyond measure to see Fritz, marching jauntily along, quite confident of success, dressed in his very smartest clothes, to the platform on which the Princess and her ladies and her courtiers were assembled, Fritz felt sure that he would win, for this reason: There was an old woman living in a cottage near his castle, who was said to be a witch. Fritz had ordered her to be seized and put to the most cruel tortures, in order to force her to say what the Princess was going to dream on the night before the day fixed for his trial. This was very silly of him, as the old woman might be a witch ten times over, and yet not be able to tell him that. But cruel, wicked people often are silly. This poor old woman screamed out some nonsense in her agony which Fritz took to be the answer he required. He smiled, therefore, in a self-confident fashion as he bowed low before the princess and awaited her question. She asked it in a clear bell-like voice, which somehow caused Hans’s heart, when he heard it, to beat a good deal quicker than before.“Sir Count, what did I dream last night?”“Your Highness dreamed,” was the reply, “that the moon came down to earth and kissed you.”The princess gently shook her head, and in a moment Fritz found himself in the hands of her guards, with his coat stripped off his back, and his hands bound behind him. The first lash made him cry for mercy; but the Princess had already gone, and the soldiers, whose duty it was to inflict the whipping, were not much disposed to show mercy to the “One-armed Count.” They laid on their blows well, driving the unlucky Fritz through the streets till the gate was reached, through which, with a final shower of blows, he was thrust, with the warning not to return thither, but to beg his way henceforth through the world. Of all who watched the proceedings, none seemed so delighted with the result as Franz. He followed, hobbling after his unhappy brother as close as the soldiers would allow, and kept jeering and laughing at him all the way. This was easy for him to do, notwithstanding the fact that he had to go on crutches, because good care was taken to make Fritz’s progress through the streets as slow as possible. In addition, therefore, to the blows, Fritz had to endure the sight of Franz’s grinning face, and to listen to such remarks as: “Who thought he was going to win the Princess?”—”Will your Highness remember your poor brother, the Burgomaster?”—”Who lost the sparkling golden water?”—and so on.With very different feelings had Hans watched the proceedings. When he saw his brother stripped for beating, he forgot all about the wrongs he had sustained, and only thought what he could do to help the sufferer. He tried to bribe the soldiers to deal gently with Fritz; but when he found it was of no avail, he hastened to the city gate so as to meet his brother outside and comfort him when the punishment was over. Hans found Fritz, as indeed was natural under the circumstances, more surly and ill-tempered than ever. He appeared startled for a moment at seeing Hans, whom he thought dead, alive and well; but he set to work blubbering again immediately, and rubbing his back with his one hand. Hans gave him what money he could afford, which Fritz took without saying “Thank you,” and went his way.“Your Highness dreamed that you were walking in your garden, and that all the trees and shrubs bore gold and silver leaves.”The Princess shook her head. “A very pretty dream,” she said; “but it was not mine.” So Franz had to suffer the same punishment as Fritz, and nobody was at all sorry. He was likewise thrust out of the city gate, bawling between his howls for some one to bring him the necromancer. Hans found him there, and tried to comfort him, as he had tried to comfort Fritz, and with about the same result. When Hans had returned to the inn, where he and his mother were staying, he was met with the news that a stranger was waiting to see him. He went in and found the huntsman who had given him the pellet which turned into the crystal ball.“Hans,” said the huntsman, as soon as Hans entered the room, “the unicorn has sent me to you. It’s your turn now to try to win the Princess.”Hans turned pale at the thought.“I would give my life to win her,” he said, earnestly, “but I am certain to fail, and then what will my poor mother do? I have no property to be confiscated, and, of course, I shall be sold into slavery.”“Don’t talk of failure,” said the huntsman cheerily; “the way to success is to forget that there is such a word as failure. Now I’ll tell you my plan. The Princess, as you know, or as you very likely don’t know, is devoted to curious animals of all kinds. I will change you into a white mouse with a gold claw, and will offer you to the Princess for sale. She has never seen or heard of such a creature as a white mouse with a gold claw before, and will be sure to buy you. Then it will be your fault if matters don’t go smoothly with you. You have only to keep your ears open and use your wits. Now, first of all, we must enter you for to-morrow’s competition.”“This is Hans, the charcoal-burner, who has undertaken to tell the Princess her dream to-morrow morning, or to pay the penalty.”When the Princess looked at Hans and saw what a nice, open-faced boy he was, she did all she could to persuade him to give up the attempt. She pointed out to him how many had tried and failed—how little chance there was of his succeeding. She could not bear, she said, to think of his being whipped publicly and sold into slavery. She offered him, if he would withdraw, the important post of general manager of the court menagerie. But neither this offer nor the prayers of the Princess could move Hans.“Now, that I have seen you face to face, Princess,” said he, “I would rather die twenty times over than give up the undertaking.”The Princess was obliged to allow Hans to enter his name for to-morrow’s trial, although it made her very unhappy. Her heart told her that he was the one of all her suitors whom she would most wish to succeed; but she felt that he would be certain to fare as the others had done; and so when the formality was over, and Hans had left, she dismissed the court; shut herself up in her room, and said she would be at home to nobody for the rest of the day.As soon as Hans got back, the huntsman took a cup of water, muttered some strange words over it, and sprinkled Hans with the contents. He was conscious of a curious change taking place in him, and before he could quite make out what it was, he found that he was a white mouse with a gold claw. The huntsman put him in a box and carried him to the palace to sell him to the Princess. When he arrived there the porter refused to admit him.“No!” he said, “the Princess had given out that she would see no one that day. It was more than his place was worth to admit the stranger.” However, by dint of flattering words and a handsome present slipped into his hands, the porter was persuaded to send for one of the Princess’s ladies. When she came and saw the white mouse with the gold claw, she said she was sure that her mistress would be so delighted with his beautiful little curiosity that she would pardon having her orders disobeyed for once. Only, the huntsman must remain where he was; she would take the white mouse to the Princess herself. To this the Huntsman consented; and the long and short of it was that the Princess sent him a handsome sum for the mouse; and Hans found himself established as her newest favourite. The Princess was so pleased with her pet that, when she went to bed, she placed him in a cabinet in her room, the door of which she left open—because he was so tame that she had no fear of his attempting to run away. Hans was wondering how he was to find out the Princess’s dream in this situation, when his mistress woke up, laughing heartily, and called for her lady in waiting to come to her.“I’ve had such a curious dream,” she said. “I dreamed that I was married to a man with a golden top-joint to his little finger. I suppose that it was the white mouse with the gold claw which put the idea into my head. But,” and here the Princess’s voice grew very sad, “how will that poor boy ever guess this dream to-morrow?”An enormous concourse of people was assembled next day to see the trial. Very pale and sad the Princess looked as she sat prepared to put the question to Hans. He waited respectfully till she had spoken, and then, without saying a word, held out his hand to her. Her eye fell on the golden top-joint of his little finger. She cried out with delight, and, seizing his hand in hers, turned to the people and said: “Hans has guessed right, and he shall be my husband.”And all the people raised a glad shout, “Long live Prince Hans!”“Oh!” said the Princess to Hans, “how I wish my brother were here to share our happiness!”“He is here,” said the huntsman, who had thrust his way to the front; and, throwing off his huntsman’s disguise, he appeared dressed as a Prince. Then, turning to Hans, he said:“A mighty magician, the enemy of our family, condemned me, because I would not give him my sister in marriage, to take the form of a unicorn, and to guard the sparkling golden water. Twice every year, for a fortnight at a time, I was allowed to resume my human shape. It was then that I came to your hut in the forest, and gave you the token by which to win your way to the fountain. The spell laid upon me was only to be raised when some one guessed aright my sister’s dream, and so won her to wife. Thanks to you, brother Hans, the magician’s power is at an end.”Hans and the Princess were married, and after the ceremony the Prince went off to his own kingdom. Hans’s mother had a beautiful suite of apartments in the palace assigned to her, and Uncle Stoltz was not forgotten, but was provided for comfortably for life; and they all lived happily ever afterward.As for Fritz and Franz, they were so selfish and cruel, that there was nothing to be done with them but to send them back into the forest again to burn charcoal; and for all I know they are burning charcoal there still.
Resolutions taken without thought bring disasters without remedy. He who behaves like a fool repents like a wise man; as happened to the King of High-Hill, who through unexampled folly committed an act of madness putting in jeopardy both his daughter and his honour.Once upon a time the King of High-Hill being bitten by a flea caught him by a wonderful feat of dexterity; and seeing how handsome and stately he was he had not the conscience to sentence him to death. So he put him into a bottle, and feeding him every day himself the little animal grew at such a rate that at the end of seven months it was necessary to shift his quarters, for he was grown bigger than a sheep. The King then had him flayed and his skin dressed. Then he issued a proclamation that whoever could tell what this skin was should marry the Princess.As soon as this decree was made known the people flocked in crowds from all the ends of the world to try their luck. One said that it belonged to an ape, another to a lynx, a third to a crocodile, and in short some gave it to one animal and some to another; but they were all a hundred miles from the truth, and not one hit the nail on the head. At last there came to this trial an ogre who was the most ugly being in the world, the very sight of whom would make the boldest man tremble and quake with fear. But no sooner had he come and turned the skin round and smelt it than he instantly guessed the truth, saying, “This skin belongs to the king of fleas.”Now the King saw that the ogre had hit the mark; and not to break his word he ordered his daughter Porziella to be called. Porziella had a face like milk and roses, and was such a miracle of beauty that you would never be tired of looking at her. And the King said to her, “My daughter, you know who I am. I cannot go back from my promise whether a king or a beggar. My word is given, I must keep it though my heart should break. Who would ever have imagined that this prize would have fallen to an ogre! But it never does to judge hastily. Have patience then and do not oppose your father; for my heart tells me that you will be happy, for rich treasures are often found inside a rough earthen jar.”When Porziella heard this sad saying her eyes grew dim, her face turned pale, her lips fell, her knees shook; and at last, bursting into tears, she said to her father, “What crime have I committed that I should be punished thus! How have I ever behaved badly toward you that I should be given up to this monster. Is this, O Father, the affection you bear to your own child? Is this the love you show to her whom you used to call the joy of your soul? Do you drive from your sight her who is the apple of your eye? O Father, O cruel Father! Better had it been if my cradle had been my death-bed since I have lived to see this evil day.”Porziella was going on to say more when the King in a furious rage exclaimed, “Stay your anger! Fair and softly, for appearances deceive. Is it for a girl to teach her father, forsooth? Have done, I say, for if I lay these hands upon you I’ll not leave a whole bone in your skin. Prithee, how long has a child hardly out of the nursery dared to oppose my will? Quick then, I say, take his hand and set off with him home this very instant, for I will not have that saucy face a minute longer in my sight.”Poor Porziella, seeing herself thus caught in the net, with the face of a person condemned to death, with the heart of one whose head is lying between the axe and the block, took the hand of the ogre, who dragged her off without any attendants to the wood where the trees made a palace for the meadow to prevent its being discovered by the sun, and the brooks murmured, having knocked against the stones in the dark, while the wild beasts wandered where they liked without paying toll, and went safely through the thicket whither no man ever came unless he had lost his way. Upon this spot, which was as black as an unswept chimney, stood the ogre’s house ornamented all round with the bones of the men whom he had devoured. Think but for a moment of the horror of it to the poor girl.But this was nothing at all in comparison with what was to come. Before dinner she had peas and after dinner parched beans. Then the ogre went out to hunt and returned home laden with the quarters of the men whom he had killed, saying, “Now, wife, you cannot complain that I don’t take good care of you; here is a fine store of eatables, take and make merry and love me well, for the sky will fall before I will let you want for food.”Poor Porziella could not endure this horrible sight and turned her face away. But when the ogre saw this he cried, “Ha! this is throwing sweetmeats before swine; never mind, however, only have patience till to-morrow morning, for I have been invited to a wild boar hunt and will bring you home a couple of boars, and we’ll make a grand feast with our kinsfolk and celebrate the wedding.” So saying he went into the forest.Now as Porziella stood weeping at the window it chanced that an old woman passed by who, being famished with hunger, begged some food. “Ah, my good woman,” said Porziella, “Heaven knows I am in the power of the ogre who brings me home nothing but pieces of the men he has killed. I pass the most miserable life possible, and yet I am the daughter of a king and have been brought up in luxury.” And so saying she began to cry like a little girl who sees her bread and butter taken away from her.The old woman’s heart was softened at this sight and she said to Porziella, “Be of good heart, my pretty girl, do not spoil your beauty with crying, for you have met with luck; I can help you to both saddle and trappings. Listen, now. I have seven sons who, you see, are seven giants, Mase, Nardo, Cola, Micco, Petrullo, Ascaddeo, and Ceccone, who have more virtues that rosemary, especially Mase, for every time he lays his ear to the ground he hears all that is passing within thirty miles round. Nardo, every time he washes his hands, makes a great sea of soapsuds. Every time that Cola throws a bit of iron on the ground he makes a field of sharp razors. Whenever Micco flings down a little stick a tangled wood springs up. If Petrullo lets fall a drop of water it makes a terrible river. When Ascaddeo wishes a strong tower to spring up he has only to throw a stone; and Ceccone shoots so straight with the cross-bow that he can hit a hen’s eye a mile off. Now with the help of my sons, who are all courteous and friendly, and who will all take compassion on your condition, I will contrive to free you from the claws of the ogre.”“No time better than now,” replied Porziella, “for that evil shadow of a husband of mine has gone out and will not return this evening, and we shall have time to slip off and run away.”“It cannot be this evening,” replied the old woman, “for I live a long way off; but I promise you that to-morrow morning I and my sons will all come together and help you out of your trouble.”So saying, the old woman departed, and Porziella went to rest with a light heart and slept soundly all night. But as soon as the birds began to cry, “Long live the Sun,” lo and behold, there was the old woman with her seven children; and placing Porziella in the midst of them they proceeded towards the city. But they had not gone above half a mile when Mase put his ear to the ground and cried: “Hallo, have a care; here’s the fox. The ogre is come home. He has missed his wife and he is hastening after us with his cap under his arm.”No sooner did Nardo hear this than he washed his hands and made a sea of soap-suds; and when the ogre came and saw all the suds he ran home and fetching a sack of bran he strewed it about and worked away treading it down with his feet until at last he got over this obstacle, though with great difficulty.But Mase put his ear once more to the ground and exclaimed, “Look sharp, comrade, here he comes!” Thereupon Cola flung a piece of iron on the ground and instantly a field of razors sprang up. When the ogre saw the path stopped he ran home again and clad himself in iron from head to foot and then returned and got over this peril.Then Mase, again putting his ear to the ground, cried, “Up! up! to arms! to arms! For see here is the ogre coming at such a rate that he is actually flying.” But Micco was ready with his little stick, and in an instant he caused a terrible wood to rise up, so thick that it was quite impenetrable. When the ogre came to this difficult pass he laid hold of a Carrara knife which he wore at his side, and began to cut down the poplars and oaks and pine trees and chestnut trees, right and left; so that with four or five strokes he had the whole forest on the ground and got clear of it. Presently, Mase who kept his ears on the alert like a hare, again raised his voice and cried, “Now we must be off, for the ogre is coming like the wind and here he is at our heels.” As soon as Petrullo heard this he took water from a little fountain, sprinkled it on the ground, and in an twinkling of an eye a large river rose up on the spot. When the ogre saw this new obstacle, and that he could not make holes so fast as they found bungs to stop them, he stripped himself stark naked and swam across to the other side of the river with his clothes upon his head.Mase, who put his ear to every chink, heard the ogre coming and exclaimed, “Alas! matters go ill with us now. I already hear the clatter of the ogre’s heels. We must be on our guard and ready to meet the storm or else we are done for.” “Never fear,” said Ascaddeo, “I will soon settle this ugly ragamuffin.” So saying, he flung a pebble on the ground and instantly up rose a tower in which they all took refuge without delay, and barred the door. But when the ogre came up and saw that they had got into so safe a place he ran home, got a vine-dresser’s ladder, and carried it back on his shoulder to the tower.Now Mase, who kept his ears hanging down, heard at a distance the approach of the ogre and cried, “We are now at the butt end of the Candle of Hope. Ceccone is our last resource, for the ogre is coming back in a terrible fury. Alas! how my heart beats, for I foresee an evil day.” “You coward,” answered Ceccone, “trust to me and I will hit him with a ball.”As Ceccone was speaking the ogre came, planted his ladder and began to climb up; but Ceccone, taking aim at him, shot out one of his eyes and laid him at full length on the ground, like a pear dropped from a tree. Then he went out of the tower and cut off the ogre’s head with a big knife he carried about with him, just as if it had been new-made cheese. Thereupon they took the head with great joy to the King, who rejoiced at the recovery of his daughter, for he had repented a hundred times at having given her to an ogre. And not many days after Porziella was married to a handsome prince, and the seven sons and their mother who had delivered her from such a wretched life were rewarded with great riches.
Efriam Duke was an ancient king of Calabar. He was a peaceful man, and did not like war. He had a wonderful drum, the property of which, when it was beaten, was always to provide plenty of good food and drink. So whenever any country declared war against him, he used to call all his enemies together and beat his drum; then to the surprise of every one, instead of fighting the people found tables spread with all sorts of dishes, fish, foo-foo, palm-oil chop, soup, cooked yams and ocros, and plenty of palm wine for everybody. In this way he kept all the country quiet, and sent his enemies away with full stomachs, and in a happy and contented frame of mind. There was only one drawback to possessing the drum, and that was, if the owner of the drum walked over any stick on the road or stept over a fallen tree, all the food would immediately go bad, and three hundred Egbo men would appear with sticks and whips and beat the owner of the drum and all the invited guests very severely.Efriam Duke was a rich man. He had many farms and hundreds of slaves, a large store of kernels on the beach, and many puncheons of palm-oil. He also had fifty wives and many children. The wives were all fine women and healthy; they were also good mothers, and all of them had plenty of children, which was good for the king’s house.Every few months the king used to issue invitations to all his subjects to come to a big feast, even the wild animals were invited; the elephants, hippopotami, leopards, bush cows, and antelopes used to come, for in those days there was no trouble, as they were friendly with man, and when they were at the feast they did not kill one another. All the people and the animals as well were envious of the king’s drum and wanted to possess it, but the king would not part with it.One morning Ikwor Edem, one of the king’s wives, took her little daughter down to the spring to wash her, as she was covered with yaws, which are bad sores all over the body. The tortoise happened to be up a palm tree, just over the spring, cutting nuts for his midday meal; and while he was cutting, one of the nuts fell to the ground, just in front of the child. The little girl, seeing the good food, cried for it, and the mother, not knowing any better, picked up the palm nut and gave it to her daughter. Directly the tortoise saw this he climbed down the tree, and asked the woman where his palm nut was. She replied that she had given it to her child to eat. Then the tortoise, who very much wanted the king’s drum, thought he would make plenty palaver over this and force the king to give him the drum, so he said to the mother of the child—“I am a poor man, and I climbed the tree to get food for myself and my family. Then you took my palm nut and gave it to your child. I shall tell the whole matter to the king, and see what he has to say when he hears that one of his wives has stolen my food,” for this, as every one knows, is a very serious crime according to native custom.Ikwor Edem then said to the tortoise—“I saw your palm nut lying on the ground, and thinking it had fallen from the tree, I gave it to my little girl to eat, but I did not steal it. My husband the king is a rich man, and if you have any complaint to make against me or my child, I will take you before him.”So when she had finished washing her daughter at the spring she took the tortoise to her husband, and told him what had taken place. The king then asked the tortoise what he would accept as compensation for the loss of his palm nut, and offered him money, cloth, kernels or palm-oil, all of which things the tortoise refused one after the other.The king then said to the tortoise, “What will you take? You may have anything you like.”And the tortoise immediately pointed to the king’s drum, and said that it was the only thing he wanted.In order to get rid of the tortoise the king said, “Very well, take the drum,” but he never told the tortoise about the bad things that would happen to him if he stept over a fallen tree, or walked over a stick on the road.The tortoise was very glad at this, and carried the drum home in triumph to his wife, and said, “I am now a rich man, and shall do no more work. Whenever I want food, all I have to do is to beat this drum, and food will immediately be brought to me, and plenty to drink.”His wife and children were very pleased when they heard this, and asked the tortoise to get food at once, as they were all hungry. This the tortoise was only too pleased to do, as he wished to show off his newly acquired wealth, and was also rather hungry himself, so he beat the drum in the same way as he had seen the king do when he wanted something to eat, and immediately plenty of food appeared, so they all sat down and made a great feast. The tortoise did this for three days, and everything went well; all his children got fat, and had as much as they could possibly eat. He was therefore very proud of his drum, and in order to display his riches he sent invitations to the king and all the people and animals to come to a feast. When the people received their invitations they laughed, as they knew the tortoise was very poor, so very few attended the feast; but the king, knowing about the drum, came, and when the tortoise beat the drum, the food was brought as usual in great profusion, and all the people sat down and enjoyed their meal very much. They were much astonished that the poor tortoise should be able to entertain so many people, and told all their friends what fine dishes had been placed before them, and that they had never had a better dinner. The people who had not gone were very sorry when they heard this, as a good feast, at somebody else’s expense, is not provided every day. After the feast all the people looked upon the tortoise as one of the richest men in the kingdom, and he was very much respected in consequence. No one, except the king, could understand how the poor tortoise could suddenly entertain so lavishly, but they all made up their minds that if the tortoise ever gave another feast, they would not refuse again.When the tortoise had been in possession of the drum for a few weeks he became lazy and did no work, but went about the country boasting of his riches, and took to drinking too much. One day after he had been drinking a lot of palm wine at a distant farm, he started home carrying his drum; but having had too much to drink, he did not notice a stick in the path. He walked over the stick, and of course the Ju Ju was broken at once. But he did not know this, as nothing happened at the time, and eventually he arrived at his house very tired, and still not very well from having drunk too much. He threw the drum into a corner and went to sleep. When he woke up in the morning the tortoise began to feel hungry, and as his wife and children were calling out for food, he beat the drum; but instead of food being brought, the house was filled with Egbo men, who beat the tortoise, his wife and children, badly. At this the tortoise was very angry, and said to himself—“I asked every one to a feast, but only a few came, and they had plenty to eat and drink. Now, when I want food for myself and my family, the Egbos come and beat me. Well, I will let the other people share the same fate, as I do not see why I and my family should be beaten when I have given a feast to all people.”He therefore at once sent out invitations to all the men and animals to come to a big dinner the next day at three o’clock in the afternoon.When the time arrived many people came, as they did not wish to lose the chance of a free meal a second time. Even the sick men, the lame, and the blind got their friends to lead them to the feast. When they had all arrived, with the exception of the king and his wives, who sent excuses, the tortoise beat his drum as usual, and then quickly hid himself under a bench, where he could not be seen. His wife and children he had sent away before the feast, as he knew what would surely happen. Directly he had beaten the drum three hundred Egbo men appeared with whips, and started flogging all the guests, who could not escape, as the doors had been fastened. The beating went on for two hours, and the people were so badly punished, that many of them had to be carried home on the backs of their friends. The leopard was the only one who escaped, as directly he saw the Egbo men arrive he knew that things were likely to be unpleasant, so he gave a big spring and jumped right out of the compound.When the tortoise was satisfied with the beating the people had received he crept to the door and opened it. The people then ran away, and when the tortoise gave a certain tap on the drum all the Egbo men vanished. The people who had been beaten were so angry, and made so much palaver with the tortoise, that he made up his mind to return the drum to the king the next day. So in the morning the tortoise went to the king and brought the drum with him. He told the king that he was not satisfied with the drum, and wished to exchange it for something else; he did not mind so much what the king gave him so long as he got full value for the drum, and he was quite willing to accept a certain number of slaves, or a few farms, or their equivalent in cloth or rods.The king, however, refused to do this; but as he was rather sorry for the tortoise, he said he would present him with a magic foo-foo tree, which would provide the tortoise and his family with food, provided he kept a certain condition. This the tortoise gladly consented to do. Now this foo-foo tree only bore fruit once a year, but every day it dropped foo-foo and soup on the ground. And the condition was, that the owner should gather sufficient food for the day, once, and not return again for more. The tortoise, when he had thanked the king for his generosity, went home to his wife and told her to bring her calabashes to the tree. She did so, and they gathered plenty of foo-foo and soup quite sufficient for the whole family for that day, and went back to their house very happy.That night they all feasted and enjoyed themselves. But one of the sons, who was very greedy, thought to himself—“I wonder where my father gets all this good food from? I must ask him.”So in the morning he said to his father—“Tell me where do you get all this foo-foo and soup from?”But his father refused to tell him, as his wife, who was a cunning woman, said—“If we let our children know the secret of the foo-foo tree, some day when they are hungry, after we have got our daily supply, one of them may go to the tree and gather more, which will break the Ju Ju.”But the envious son, being determined to get plenty of food for himself, decided to track his father to the place where he obtained the food. This was rather difficult to do, as the tortoise always went out alone, and took the greatest care to prevent any one following him. The boy, however, soon thought of a plan, and got a calabash with a long neck and a hole in the end. He filled the calabash with wood ashes, which he obtained from the fire, and then got a bag which his father always carried on his back when he went out to get food. In the bottom of the bag the boy then made a small hole, and inserted the calabash with the neck downwards, so that when his father walked to the foo-foo tree he would leave a small trail of wood ashes behind him. Then when his father, having slung his bag over his back as usual, set out to get the daily supply of food, his greedy son followed the trail of the wood ashes, taking great care to hide himself and not to let his father perceive that he was being followed. At last the tortoise arrived at the tree, and placed his calabashes on the ground and collected the food for the day, the boy watching him from a distance. When his father had finished and went home the boy also returned, and having had a good meal, said nothing to his parents, but went to bed. The next morning he got some of his brothers, and after his father had finished getting the daily supply, they went to the tree and collected much foo-foo and soup, and so broke the Ju Ju.At daylight the tortoise went to the tree as usual, but he could not find it, as during the night the whole bush had grown up, and the foo-foo tree was hidden from sight. There was nothing to be seen but a dense mass of prickly tie-tie palm. Then the tortoise at once knew that some one had broken the Ju Ju, and had gathered foo-foo from the tree twice in the same day; so he returned very sadly to his house, and told his wife. He then called all his family together and told them what had happened, and asked them who had done this evil thing. They all denied having had anything to do with the tree, so the tortoise in despair brought all his family to the place where the foo-foo tree had been, but which was now all prickly tie-tie palm, and said—“My dear wife and children, I have done all that I can for you, but you have broken my Ju Ju; you must therefore for the future live on the tie-tie palm.”So they made their home underneath the prickly tree, and from that day you will always find tortoises living under the prickly tie-tie palm, as they have nowhere else to go to for food.
There was once a rich merchant who had three sons, and when they were grown up the eldest said to him, ‘Father, I wish to travel and see the world. I pray you let me.’So the father ordered a beautiful ship to be fitted up, and the young man sailed away in it. After some weeks the vessel cast anchor before a large town, and the merchant’s son went on shore.The first thing he saw was a large notice written on a board saying that if any man could find the king’s daughter within eight days he should have her to wife, but that if he tried and failed his head must be the forfeit.‘Well,’ thought the youth as he read this proclamation, ‘that ought not to be a very difficult matter;’ and he asked an audience of the king, and told him that he wished to seek for the princess.‘Certainly,’ replied the king. ‘You have the whole palace to search in; but remember, if you fail it will cost you your head.’So saying, he commanded the doors to be thrown open, and food and drink to be set before the young man, who, after he had eaten, began to look for the princess. But though he visited every corner and chest and cupboard, she was not in any of them, and after eight days he gave it up and his head was cut off.All this time his father and brothers had had no news of him, and were very anxious. At last the second son could bear it no longer, and said, ‘Dear father, give me, I pray you, a large ship and some money, and let me go and seek for my brother.’So another ship was fitted out, and the young man sailed away, and was blown by the wind into the same harbour where his brother had landed.Now when he saw the first ship lying at anchor his heart beat high, and he said to himself, ‘My brother cannot surely be far off,’ and he ordered a boat and was put on shore.As he jumped on to the pier his eye caught the notice about the princess, and he thought, ‘He has undertaken to find her, and has certainly lost his head. I must try myself, and seek him as well as her. It cannot be such a very difficult matter.’ But he fared no better than his brother, and in eight days his head was cut off.So now there was only the youngest at home, and when the other two never came he also begged for a ship that he might go in search of his lost brothers. And when the vessel started a high wind arose, and blew him straight to the harbour where the notice was set.‘Oho!’ said he, as he read, ‘whoever can find the king’s daughter shall have her to wife. It is quite clear now what has befallen my brothers. But in spite of that I think I must try my luck,’ and he took the road to the castle.On the way he met an old woman, who stopped and begged.‘Leave me in peace, old woman,’ replied he.‘Oh, do not send me away empty,’ she said. ‘You are such a handsome young man you will surely not refuse an old woman a few pence.’‘I tell you, old woman, leave me alone.’‘You are in some trouble?’ she asked. ‘Tell me what it is, and perhaps I can help you.’Then he told her how he had set his heart on finding the king’s daughter.‘I can easily manage that for you as long as you have enough money.’‘Oh, as to that, I have plenty,’ answered he.‘Well, you must take it to a goldsmith and get him to make it into a golden lion, with eyes of crystal; and inside it must have something that will enable it to play tunes. When it is ready bring it to me.’The young man did as he was bid, and when the lion was made the old woman hid the youth in it, and brought it to the king, who was so delighted with it that he wanted to buy it. But she replied, ‘It does not belong to me, and my master will not part from it at any price.’‘At any rate, leave it with me for a few days,’ said he; ‘I should like to show it to my daughter.’‘Yes, I can do that,’ answered the old woman; ‘but to-morrow I must have it back again. And she went away.The king watched her till she was quite out of sight, so as to make sure that she was not spying upon him; then he took the golden lion into his room and lifted some loose boards from the floor. Below the floor there was a staircase, which he went down till he reached a door at the foot. This he unlocked, and found himself in a narrow passage closed by another door, which he also opened. The young man, hidden in the golden lion, kept count of everything, and marked that there were in all seven doors. After they had all been unlocked the king entered a lovely hall, where the princess was amusing herself with eleven friends. All twelve girls wore the same clothes, and were as like each other as two peas.‘What bad luck!’ thought the youth. ‘Even supposing that I managed to find my way here again, I don’t see how I could ever tell which was the princess.’And he stared hard at the princess as she clapped her hands with joy and ran up to them, crying, ‘ Oh, do let us keep that delicious beast for to-night; it will make such a nice plaything.’The king did not stay long, and when he left he handed over the lion to the maidens, who amused themselves with it for some time, till they got sleepy, and thought it was time to go to bed. But the princess took the lion into her own room and laid it on the floor.She was just beginning to doze when she heard a voice quite close to her, which made her jump. ‘O lovely princess, if you only knew what I have gone through to find you!’ The princess jumped out of bed screaming, ‘The lion! the lion!’ but her friends thought it was a nightmare, and did not trouble themselves to get up.‘O lovely úprincess!’ continued the voice, ‘fear nothing! I am the son of a rich merchant, and desire above all things to have you for my wife. And in order to get to you I have hidden myself in this golden lion.’‘What use is that?’ she asked. ‘For if you cannot pick me out from among my companions you will still lose your head.’‘I look to you to help me,’ he said. ‘I have done so much for you that you might do this one thing for me.’‘Then listen to me. On the eighth day I will tie a white sash round my waist, and by that you will know me.’The next morning the king came very early to fetch the lion, as the old woman was already at the palace asking for it. When they were safe from view she let the young man out, and he returned to the king and told him that he wished to find the princess.‘Very good,’ said the king, who by this time was almost tired of repeating the same words; ‘but if you fail your head will be the forfeit.’So the youth remained quietly in the castle, eating and looking at all the beautiful things around him, and every now and then pretending to be searching busily in all the closets and corners. On the eighth day he entered the room where the king was sitting. ‘Take up the floor in this place,’ he said. The king gave a cry, but stopped himself, and asked, ‘What do you want the floor up for? There is nothing there.’But as all his courtiers were watching him he did not like to make any more objections, and ordered the floor to be taken up, as the young man desired. The youth then want straight down the staircase till he reached the door; then he turned and demanded that the key should be brought. So the king was forced to unlock the door, and the next and the next and the next, till all seven were open, and they entered into the hall where the twelve maidens were standing all in a row, so like that none might tell them apart. But as he looked one of them silently drew a white sash from her pocket and slipped it round her waist, and the young man sprang to her and said, ‘This is the princess, and I claim her for my wife.’ And the king owned himself beaten, and commanded that the wedding feast should be held.After eight days the bridal pair said farewell to the king, and set sail for the youth’s own country, taking with them a whole shipload of treasures as the princess’s dowry. But they did not forget the old woman who had brought about all their happiness, and they gave her enough money to make her comfortable to the end of her days.
There was once a man whose name was Don Giovanni de la Fortuna, and he lived in a beautiful house that his father had built, and spent a great deal of money. Indeed, he spent so much that very soon there was none left, and Don Giovanni, instead of being a rich man with everything he could wish for, was forced to put on the dress of a pilgrim, and to wander from place to place begging his bread.One day he was walking down a broad road when he was stopped by a handsome man he had never seen before, who, little as Don Giovanni knew it, was the devil himself.‘Would you like to be rich,’ asked the devil, ‘and to lead a pleasant life?’‘Yes, of course I should,’ replied the Don.‘Well, here is a purse; take it and say to it, “Dear purse, give me some money,” and you will get as much as you can want But the charm will only work if you promise to remain three years, three months, and three days without washing and without combing and without shaving your beard or changing your clothes. If you do all this faithfully, when the time is up you shall keep the purse for yourself, and I will let you off any other conditions.’Now Don Giovanni was a man who never troubled his head about the future. He did not once think how very uncomfortable he should be all those three years, but only that he should be able, by means of the purse, to have all sorts of things he had been obliged to do without; so he joyfully put the purse in his pocket and went on his way. He soon began to ask for money for the mere pleasure of it, and there was always as much as he needed. For a little while he even forgot to notice how dirty he was getting, but this did not last long, for his hair became matted with dirt and hung over his eyes, and his pilgrim’s dress was a mass of horrible rags and tatters.He was in this state when, one morning, he happened to be passing a fine palace; and, as the sun was shining bright and warm, he sat down on the steps and tried to shake off some of the dust which he had picked up on the road. But in a few minutes a maid saw him, and said to her master, ‘I pray you, sir, to drive away that beggar who is sitting on the steps, or he will fill the whole house with his dirt.’So the master went out and called from some distance off, for he was really afraid to go near the man, ‘You filthy beggar, leave my house at once!’‘You need not be so rude,’ said Don Giovanni; ‘I am not a beggar, and if I chose I could force you and your wife to leave your house.’‘What is that you can do?’ laughed the gentleman.‘Will you sell me your house?’ asked Don Giovanni. ‘I will buy it from you on the spot.’‘Oh, the dirty creature is quite mad!’ thought the gentleman. ‘I shall just accept his offer for a joke.’ And aloud he said: ‘ All right; follow me, and we will go to a lawyer and get him to make a contract.’ And Don Giovanni followed him, and an agreement was drawn up by which the house was to be sold at once, and a large sum of money paid down in eight days. Then the Don went to an inn, where he hired two rooms, and, standing in one of them, said to his purse, ‘ Dear purse, fill this room with gold;’ and when the eight days were up it was so full you could not have put in another sovereign.When the owner of the house came to take away his money Don Giovanni led him into the room and said: ‘There, just pocket what you want.’ The gentleman stared with open mouth at the astonishing sight; but he had given his word to sell the house, so he took his money, as he was told, and went away with his wife to look for some place to live in. And Don Giovanni left the inn and dwelt in the beautiful rooms, where his rags and dirt looked sadly out of place. And every day these got worse and worse.By-and-bye the fame of his riches reached the ears of the king, and, as he himself was always in need of money, he sent for Don Giovanni, as he wished to borrow a large sum. Don Giovanni readily agreed to lend him what he wanted, and sent next day a huge waggon laden with sacks of gold.‘Who can he be?’ thought the king to himself. ‘Why, he is much richer than I!’The king took as much as he had need of; then ordered the rest to be returned to Don Giovanni, who refused to receive it, saying, ‘Tell his majesty I am much hurt at his proposal. I shall certainly not take back that handful of gold, and, if he declines to accept it, keep it yourself.’The servant departed and delivered the message, and the king wondered more than ever how anyone could be so rich. At last he spoke to the queen: ‘Dear wife, this man has done me a great service, and has, besides, behaved like a gentleman in not allowing me to send back the money. I wish to give him the hand of our eldest daughter.’The queen was quite pleased at this idea, and again messenger was sent to Don Giovanni, offering him the hand of the eldest princess.‘His majesty is too good,’ he replied. ‘I can only humbly accept the honour.’The messenger took back this answer, but a second time returned with the request that Don Giovanni would present them with his picture, so that they might know what sort of a person to expect. But when it came, and the princess saw the horrible figure, she screamed out, ‘What! marry this dirty beggar? Never, never!’‘Ah, child,’ answered the king, ‘how could I ever guess that the rich Don Giovanni would ever look like that? But I have passed my royal word, and I cannot break it, so there is no help for you.’‘No, father; you may cut off my head, if you choose, but marry that horrible beggar—I never will!’And the queen took her part, and reproached her husband bitterly for wishing his daughter to marry a creature like that.Then the youngest daughter spoke: ‘Dear father, do not look so sad. As you have given your word, I will marry Don Giovanni.’ The king fell on her neck, and thanked her and kissed her, but the queen and the elder girl had nothing for her but laughs and jeers.So it was settled, and then the king bade one of his lords go to Don Giovanni and ask him when the wedding day was to be, so that the princess might make ready.‘Let it be in two months,’ answered Don Giovanni, for the time was nearly up that the devil had fixed, and he wanted a whole month to himself to wash off the dirt of the past three years.The very minute that the compact with the devil had come to an end his beard was shaved, his hair was cut, and his rags were burned, and day and night he lay in a bath of clear warm water. At length he felt he was clean again, and he put on splendid clothes, and hired a beautiful ship, and arrived in state at the king’s palace.The whole of the royal family came down to the ship to receive him, and the whole way the queen and the elder princess teased the sister about the dirty husband she was going to have. But when they saw how handsome he really was their hearts were filled with envy and anger, so that their eyes were blinded, and they fell over into the sea and were drowned. And the youngest daughter rejoiced in the good luck that had come to her, and they had a splendid wedding when the days of mourning for her mother and sister were ended.Soon after the old king died, and Don Giovanni became king. And he was rich and happy to the end of his days, for he loved his wife, and his purse always gave him money.
The fair Brunhilda was the daughter of the old King of Bohemia, and many a handsome prince and gallant knight came from distant lands to try and win the lovely maiden.One dewy morning a noble youth rode up to the Palace of the white-haired King of Bohemia. He was the only son of the King of the Harz whose strong castle was built on a mighty crag overhanging a deep ravine.No sooner had the young man beheld the lovely princess than he knew that his heart was no longer his own, and his one desire was to win the love of the royal maiden. When Brunhilda saw the prince, with his bright blue eyes, his flaxen hair, and manly bearing, her heart beat quick and fast, and a blush overspread her face like a sunset glow on the mountains of Bohemia. Then she knew full well that she had seen the one man she loved above all others. Thus these two young hearts were drawn together, they plighted their troth, and vowed that nothing but death should separate them.With a light heart the young prince rode gaily away to the far away Harz to tell his father the joy that was his and to prepare the old castle for Brunhilda’s home-coming. He promised to return after two moons had come and gone and carry back the princess as his bride and his queen.Brunhilda could not hide her tears at the parting. A sad foreboding filled her mind with gloomy thoughts, and oppressed her soul with some coming calamity.In the north of Europe there lived a race of great giants. They were so strong and so powerful that at the very mention of their name men trembled and fear came into all hearts. The fame of Brunhilda’s love liness had spread even into this land of the giants. One of the strongest and most powerful princes among these mighty men was the giant Bodo, and he determined to win the princess and carry her away as his bride. With a gay and handsome retinue he travelled to Bohemia; and he brought with him gold and amber and precious stones in the hope that the sight of these costly gifts would gladden the heart of the princess. Gold, however, is no measure of true love, and amber and precious stones cannot win the heart of one that is plighted to another.The old King of Bohemia received Bodo with be coming honour for he was a great and mighty monarch. A splendid banquet was prepared for him and when he beheld the grace and beauty of the fair princess he determined to win her at all costs. With strong and powerful words he demanded that the old King should give him his daughter in marriage and with a loud voice he declared that he would not receive “nay” for an answer.The old King knew well that Bodo would make him a powerful son-in-law, and he was blinded by the great strength of the giant, the splendour of his retinue, and the costly gifts he had brought from distant lands. He thought that the alliance with so great a prince would enhance his daughter’s happiness as well as strengthen the Kingdom of Bohemia. His old withered heart forgot that true love cannot be changed like a garment and nothing can separate hearts that are faithful.The old King implored Brunhilda to give up all thought of a marriage with the young prince from the Harz and to accept the all-powerful Bodo as her suc cessful wooer. Brunhilda flung herself down at her father’s feet ; but neither her tears, her sighs, nor her prayers could move the obdurate old man. However, he had an interview with the giant and he told him that after the custom of his country he should receive his answer in three days.The old King knew that if he denied Bodo the wish of his heart his rage and his anger would burst forth like a volcano and the giant would destroy his palace and make his country into a desert land. So he turned a deaf ear to Brunhilda’s weeping and told her to prepare for her wedding.No sooner had the old King informed Bodo that the wedding-day was fixed than a sudden change came over Brunhilda. She wept no more tears, she sighed no more sighs and she let no one see how deeply she abhored the giant for she met him with a sweet and stately dignity. One thing she determined upon and that was she would sooner die than become Bodo’s bride. She still hoped for deliverance and believed that the young prince from the Harz would claim her before the fatal day, and in knightly combat free her from becoming Bodo’s bride.In the golden light of each day’s dawning she ascended the watch-tower, but alas ! the young prince came not. Each noon she shaded her eyes from the blazing sun, but she saw no help coming near, and when the shadows lengthened she again climbed the tower and looked away to the blue Harz mountains, but she saw no rider speeding towards her. “Flight” she said to herself “is now my only means of escape, and I must fly to the home of my prince.” As the thought passed through her mind she looked down from the tower and in the meadow below the castle she beheld two of Bodo’s giant horses. One was dark as the night, the other was light as the dawn. One was the war- horse of Bodo and the other he intended should carry his bride to the land of the giants. Flight on such a horse was possible and courage again filled the heart of Brunhilda.She begged Bodo to teach her to ride the beautiful horse, and each day she mounted her snow white steed, whose eyes shone like stars and whose feet and limbs were full of grace and power. The giant was delighted to show the fair rider how best to curb her fiery steed or to urge it forward to greater exertion. They rode together through forest glades, they crossed the broad plains at a canter, they climbed the steep hills, and now and again they had a friendly race.At last the eve of the wedding day came. Many guests arrived but the son of the king of the Harz came not. Music and laughter echoed through the halls of the old King’s palace. No wedding guest laughed louder than the bridegroom, and no maiden in that gay throng seemed brighter or more gay than the fair young bride. She smiled on Bodo, she stroked his beard, she jested with her friends. All eyes followed the lovely damsel. Her white robes floated around her, the diamonds which Bodo had given her glittered on her bosom, while her golden crown rested on her flaxen ringlets.“Brunhilda on her snow-white steed.” Illustration by Alice M. Odgers, published in Fairy Tales from the Harz Mountains by Alfred C. Fryer (1908), David Nutt.At last Brunhilda begged permission to retire to her chamber to prepare for the festivity of the morrow. Instead of entering her bower Brunhilda descended the stairs, crossed the courtyard, and went direct to the stable. Here she found her snow-white steed. She at once mounted the noble creature, ordered the draw bridge to be lowered and galloped forth towards the southern mountains — the home of her true love.Neither song, nor music, nor laughter prevented Bodo from hearing the neighing of the white horse and the lowering of the drawbridge. He fled from the revelers and his hurried steps echoed through the silent corridors. When he reached the courtyard he saw the white horse cross the drawbridge, Brunhilda’s flaxen locks waving in the night breeze and her golden crown glittering in the moonlight.Bodo uttered one wild furious cry of uncontrollable passion, and the very walls of the castle trembled at the terrible rage of the infuriated giant. In haste he harnassed his black charger, vaulted into the saddle, and like the wild wind from the north he galloped over the drawbridge, away, after the flying princess.The snow white steed and the fair princess flew on through valley and dale, over crag and fell, through darksome forest and through many a roaring torrent. The great black charger and his furious rider quickly followed. He seemed like the shadow of night speed ing after the brightness of day. The earth trembled beneath the heavy hoofs of the mighty horse. The birds of the forest hid beneath the leaves of the trees, and even the wild animals fled away terrified as Bodo rode past in the darkness.Forwards, ever forwards, fled Brunhilda like a hunted deer, while Bodo followed with wild cries of rage like a storm from the desert. All night long Brunhilda was chased by Bodo. When morning broke and bathed the mountain and forest in a flood of golden light the princess was still pursued by the savage giant. Her golden crown shone in the sun light, her white veil waved behind her, and her flaxen ringlets danced in the breeze, Bodo was bareheaded, his fist was clenched in anger, and his wild shouts caused the birds to fly back in terror to their nests in the forest.As the morning mists rolled away Brunhilda beheld the Harz Mountains. At first they looked like some cloud in the distance, but soon they became clear and distinct. ” Yonder is the home of my true love,” cried the princess joyously, “yonder is safety for me,” and she urged her horse forward.It was a fair fresh morning and dew and gossamer lay heavy on the bushes. She passed through forests of beech and pine, where the trees shut out the light and few birds sang. Bodo came nearer, and each time she looked behind she saw the dreaded pursuer. Anxiously she urged her steed onwards, and soon the shouts of the wild bridegroom became less distinct as the distance widened between them. She passed through many a sunny dale and winding valley. Still the giant pursued her. She climbed the outlying spurs of the great Harz Mountains.Upwards ever upwards sped the white horse with the fair princess. Ever higher to where the dark pines waved in solemn pomp, and the sound of the waves seemed to echo in their branches. Suddenly the noble horse stopped, it refused to go on, it trembled in every limb and seemed as if it were bewitched. Brunhilda looked and she also trembled at the terrible sight she beheld. Horse and rider stood on the extreme edge of a yawning precipice. Deep, deep down she could hear the roaring voice of the mountain torrent, while a thousand feet away were the jagged cliffs of the opposite side of this awful chasm Well might horse and rider tremble on the brink of this terrible gorge. Brunhilda shuddered. For a moment her heart stood still, her courage failed her, and an anxious look passed over her beautiful features. Before her lay death and destruction, behind her the voice of the hateful giant each moment growing louder while on the opposite cliff was safety, and the home of her true-love.The choice was not hard. Brunhilda will venture the mighty leap over the deep abyss. Perchance she may gain the other side. If not, then death awaits her. “That is better, she cries “than to fall into the hands of Bodo and break my troth with my true-love.”She drew her horse back from the edge of the precipice. Then she turned him again towards the fearful gorge, and pressing her heel into his flank she urged the noble animal forwards. With one mighty bound the horse and rider left the rock. Like the flight of an eagle they sped through the air.A joyous cry burst from the lips of the princess when her horse’s hoof struck the rock on the opposite side of the great ravine. Then her horse fell exhausted, but the heroic deed was accomplished and Brunhilda was saved. Only her golden crown was lost. It slipped from her head as she crossed the ravine, and fell into a deep pool at the foot of the chasm.As Bodo saw the princess pass like a floating cloud over the gorge, he uttered a wild cry of anger and rage which echoed like thunder from cliff to cliff. Then he spurred his charger to the edge of the chasm, and he, too, ventured the terrible leap ; but the weight of the giant was great, and horse and rider fell with a mighty splash into the torrent below. Here beneath the deep green water lay Brunhilda’s crown, and Bodo was transformed into a hound whose duty was ever to guard and protect it. Now and again some covetous man would plunge into the pool in the hope of gaining the crown for himself. But such a one was ever caught by the watchful hound and his lifeless body would be flung upon the bank of the stream.Brunhilda, with a thankful cry and tears in her eyes, flung herself into the arms of the prince, and with a joyful heart he received her as his queen although she brought him no crown and no kingdom.Above the deep gorge still stands the overhanging rock now known as the “Horsehoof” (Rosztrappe). Here countless wanderers yearly come, and they think of Brunhilda’s wonderful leap for they can still see the mark of her horse’s hoof deeply impressed in the rock. The river has been called the Bodo, since the fateful day that it received the body of the pursuing Giant.
One day,—no matter when or where,—A long-legg’d heron chanced to fareBy a certain river’s brink,With his long, sharp beakHelved on his slender neck;‘Twas a fish-spear, you might think.The water was clear and still,The carp and the pike there at willPursued their silent fun,Turning up, ever and anon,A golden side to the sun.With ease might the heron have madeGreat profits in his fishing trade.So near came the scaly fry,They might be caught by the passer-by.But he thought he better mightWait for a better appetite—For he lived by rule, and could not eat,Except at his hours, the best of meat.Anon his appetite return’d once more;So, approaching again the shore,He saw some tench taking their leaps,Now and then, from their lowest deeps.With as dainty a taste as Horace’s rat,He turn’d away from such food as that.“What, tench for a heron! poh!I scorn the thought, and let them go.”The tench refused, there came a gudgeon;“For all that,” said the bird, “I budge on.I’ll ne’er open my beak, if the gods please,For such mean little fishes as these.”He did it for less; | For it came to pass,That not another fish could he see;And, at last, so hungry was he,That he thought it of some availTo find on the bank a single snail.Such is the sure resultOf being too difficult.Would you be strong and greatLearn to accommodate.
There is no doubt that farmer Lovel had read ancient history or he would not have been so ready in the emergency that befell him one time in the last century. He had settled among the New Hampshire hills near the site that is now occupied by the village of Washington and had a real good time there with bears and Indians. It was when he was splitting rails on Lovel Mountain—they named it for him afterward—that he found himself surrounded by six Indians, who told him that he was their prisoner. He agreed that they had the advantage over him and said that he would go quietly along if they would allow him to finish the big chestnut log that he was at work on. As he was a powerful fellow and was armed with an axe worth any two of their tomahawks, and as he would be pretty sure to have the life of at least one of them if they tried to drive him faster than he wanted to go, they consented. He said that he would be ready all the sooner if they would help him to pull the big log apart, and they agreed to help him. Driving a wedge into the long split he asked them to take hold, and when they had done this he knocked out the wedge with a single blow and the twelve hands were caught tight in the closing wood. Struggle as the savages might, they could not get free, and after calmly enjoying the situation for a few minutes he walked slowly from one to the other and split open the heads of all six. Then he went to work again splitting up more chestnuts.
My father had a little shop in Balsora; he was neither rich, nor poor, but one of those who do not like to risk any thing, through fear of losing the little that they have. He brought me up plainly, but virtuously, and soon I advanced so far, that I was able to make valuable suggestions to him in his business. When I reached my eighteenth year, in the midst of his first speculation of any importance, he died; probably through anxiety at having intrusted a thousand gold pieces to the sea. I was obliged, soon after, to deem him happy in his fortunate death, for in a few weeks the intelligence reached us, that the vessel, to which my father had committed his goods, had been wrecked. This misfortune, however, could not depress my youthful spirits. I converted all that my father had left into money, and set out to try my fortune in foreign lands, accompanied only by an old servant of the family, who, on account of ancient attachment, would not part from me and my destiny.In the harbor of Balsora we embarked, with a favorable wind. The ship, in which I had taken passage, was bound to India. We had now for fifteen days sailed in the usual track, when the Captain predicted to us a storm. He wore a thoughtful look, for it seemed he knew that, in this place, there was not sufficient depth of water to encounter a storm with safety. He ordered them to take in all sail, and we moved along quite slowly. The night set in clear and cold, and the Captain began to think that he had been mistaken in his forebodings. All at once there floated close by ours, a ship which none of us had observed before. A wild shout and cry ascended from the deck, at which, occurring at this anxious season, before a storm, I wondered not a little. But the Captain by my side was deadly pale: “My ship is lost,” cried he; “there sails Death!” Before I could demand an explanation of these singular words, the sailors rushed in, weeping and wailing. “Have you seen it?” they exclaimed: “all is now over with us!”But the Captain had words of consolation read to them out of the Koran, and seated himself at the helm. But in vain! The tempest began visibly to rise with a roaring noise, and, before an hour passed by, the ship struck and remained aground. The boats were lowered, and scarcely had the last sailors saved themselves, when the vessel went down before our eyes, and I was launched, a beggar, upon the sea. But our misfortune had still no end. Frightfully roared the tempest, the boat could no longer be governed. I fastened myself firmly to my old servant, and we mutually promised not to be separated from each other. At last the day broke, but, with the first glance of the morning-red, the wind struck and upset the boat in which we were seated. After that I saw my shipmates no more. The shock deprived me of consciousness, and when I returned to my senses, I found myself in the arms of my old faithful attendant, who had saved himself on the boat which had been upturned, and had come in search of me. The storm had abated; of our vessel there was nothing any more to be seen, but we plainly descried, at no great distance from us, another ship, towards which the waves were driving us. As we approached, I recognised the vessel as the same which had passed by us in the night, and which had thrown the Captain into such consternation. I felt a strange horror of this ship; the intimation of the Captain, which had been so fearfully corroborated, the desolate appearance of the ship, on which, although as we drew near we uttered loud cries, no one was visible, alarmed me. Nevertheless this was our only expedient; accordingly, we praised the Prophet, who had so miraculously preserved us.From the fore-part of the ship hung down a long cable; for the purpose of laying hold of this, we paddled with our hands and feet. At last we were successful. Loudly I raised my voice, but all remained quiet as ever, on board the vessel. Then we climbed up by the rope, I, as the youngest, taking the lead. But horror! what a spectacle was there presented to my eye, as I stepped upon the deck! The floor was red with blood; upon it lay twenty or thirty corpses in Turkish costume; by the middle-mast stood a man richly attired, with sabre in hand—but his face was wan and distorted; through his forehead passed a large spike which fastened him to the mast—he was dead! Terror chained my feet; I dared hardly to breathe. At last my companion stood by my side; he, too, was overpowered at sight of the deck which exhibited no living thing, but only so many frightful corpses. After having, in the anguish of our souls, supplicated the Prophet, we ventured to move forward. At every step we looked around to see if something new, something still more horrible, would not present itself. But all remained as it was—far and wide, no living thing but ourselves, and the ocean-world. Not once did we dare to speak aloud, through fear that the dead Captain there nailed to the mast would bend his rigid eyes upon us, or lest one of the corpses should turn his head. At last we arrived at a staircase, which led into the hold. There involuntarily we came to a halt, and looked at each other, for neither of us exactly ventured to express his thoughts.“Master,” said my faithful servant, “something awful has happened here. Nevertheless, even if the ship down there below is full of murderers, still would I rather submit myself to their mercy or cruelty, than spend a longer time among these dead bodies.” I agreed with him, and so we took heart, and descended, full of apprehension. But the stillness of death prevailed here also, and there was no sound save that of our steps upon the stairs. We stood before the door of the cabin; I applied my ear, and listened—there was nothing to be heard. I opened it. The room presented a confused appearance; clothes, weapons, and other articles, lay disordered together. The crew, or at least the Captain, must shortly before have been carousing, for the remains of a banquet lay scattered around. We went on from room to room, from chamber to chamber finding, in all, royal stores of silk, pearls, and other costly articles. I was beside myself with joy at the sight, for as there was no one on the ship, I thought I could appropriate all to myself; but Ibrahim thereupon called to my notice that we were still far from land, at which we could not arrive, alone and without human help.We refreshed ourselves with the meats and drink, which we found in rich profusion, and at last ascended upon deck. But here again we shivered at the awful sight of the bodies. We determined to free ourselves therefrom, by throwing them overboard; but how were we startled to find, that no one could move them from their places! So firmly were they fastened to the floor, that to remove them one would have had to take up the planks of the deck, for which tools were wanting to us. The Captain, moreover, could not be loosened from the mast, nor could we even wrest the sabre from his rigid hand. We passed the day in sorrowful reflection on our condition; and, when night began to draw near, I gave permission to the old Ibrahim to lie down to sleep, while I would watch upon the deck, to look out for means of deliverance. When, however, the moon shone forth, and by the stars I calculated that it was about the eleventh hour, sleep so irresistibly overpowered me that I fell back, involuntarily, behind a cask which stood upon the deck. It was rather lethargy than sleep, for I plainly heard the sea beat against the side of the vessel, and the sails creak and whistle in the wind. All at once I thought I heard voices, and the steps of men upon the deck. I wished to arise and see what it was, but a strange power fettered my limbs, and I could not once open my eyes. But still more distinct became the voices; it appeared to me as if a merry crew were moving around upon the deck. In the midst of this I thought I distinguished the powerful voice of a commander, followed by the noise of ropes and sails. Gradually my senses left me; I fell into a deep slumber, in which I still seemed to hear the din of weapons, and awoke only when the sun was high in the heavens, and sent down his burning rays upon my face. Full of wonder, I gazed about me; storm, ship, the bodies, and all that I had heard in the night, recurred to me as a dream; but when I looked around, I found all as it had been the day before. Immoveable lay the bodies, immoveably was the Captain fastened to the mast; I laughed at my dream, and proceeded in search of my old companion.The latter was seated in sorrowful meditation in the cabin. “O master,” he exclaimed as I entered, “rather would I lie in the deepest bottom of the sea, than pass another night in this enchanted ship.” I asked him the reason of his grief, and thus he answered me:—“When I had slept an hour, I awoke, and heard the noise of walking to and fro over my head. I thought at first that it was you, but there were at least twenty running around; I also heard conversation and cries. At length came heavy steps upon the stairs. After this I was no longer conscious; but at times my recollection returned for a moment, and then I saw the same man who is nailed to the mast, sit down at that table, singing and drinking; and he who lies not far from him on the floor, in a scarlet cloak, sat near him, and helped him to drink.” Thus spoke my old servant to me.You may believe me, my friends, that all was not right to my mind; for there was no delusion—I too had plainly heard the dead. To sail in such company was to me horrible; my Ibrahim, however, was again absorbed in deep reflection. “I have it now!” he exclaimed at length; there occurred to him, namely, a little verse, which his grandfather, a man of experience and travel, had taught him, and which could give assistance against every ghost and spectre. He also maintained that we could, the next night, prevent the unnatural sleep which had come upon us, by repeating right fervently sentences out of the Koran.The proposition of the old man pleased me well. In anxious expectation we saw the night set in. Near the cabin was a little room, to which we determined to retire. We bored several holes in the door, large enough to give us a view of the whole cabin; then we shut it as firmly as we could from within, and Ibrahim wrote the name of the Prophet in all four corners of the room. Thus we awaited the terrors of the night.It might again have been about the eleventh hour, when a strong inclination for sleep began to overpower me. My companion, thereupon, advised me to repeat some sentences from the Koran, which assisted me to retain my consciousness. All at once it seemed to become lively overhead; the ropes creaked, there were steps upon the deck, and several voices were plainly distinguishable. We remained, a few moments, in intense anxiety; then we heard something descending the cabin stairs. When the old man became aware of this, he began to repeat the words which his grandfather had taught him to use against spirits and witchcraft:“Come you, from the air descending, Rise you from the deep sea-cave, Spring you forth where flames are blending, Glide you in the dismal grave: Allah reigns, let all adore him! Own him, spirits—bow before him!”I must confess I did not put much faith in this verse, and my hair stood on end when the door flew open. The same large, stately man entered, whom I had seen nailed to the mast. The spike still passed through the middle of his brain, but he had sheathed his sword. Behind him entered another, attired with less magnificence, whom also I had seen lying on the deck. The Captain, for he was unquestionably of this rank, had a pale countenance, a large black beard, and wildly-rolling eyes, with which he surveyed the whole apartment. I could see him distinctly, for he moved over opposite to us; but he appeared not to observe the door which concealed us. The two seated themselves at the table, which stood in the centre of the cabin, and spoke loud and fast, shouting together in an unknown tongue. They continually became more noisy and earnest, until at length, with doubled fist, the Captain brought the table a blow which shook the whole apartment. With wild laughter the other sprang up, and beckoned to the Captain to follow him. The latter rose, drew his sabre, and then both left the apartment. We breathed more freely when they were away; but our anxiety had still for a long time no end. Louder and louder became the noise upon deck; we heard hasty running to and fro, shouting, laughing, and howling. At length there came an actually hellish sound, so that we thought the deck and all the sails would fall down upon us, the clash of arms, and shrieks—of a sudden all was deep silence. When, after many hours, we ventured to go forth, we found every thing as before; not one lay differently—all were as stiff as wooden figures.Thus passed we several days on the vessel; it moved continually towards the East, in which direction, according to my calculation, lay the land; but if by day it made many miles, by night it appeared to go back again, for we always found ourselves in the same spot when the sun went down. We could explain this in no other way, than that the dead men every night sailed back again with a full breeze. In order to prevent this, we took in all the sail before it became night, and employed the same means as at the door in the cabin; we wrote on parchment the name of the Prophet, and also, in addition, the little stanza of the grandfather, and bound them upon the furled sail. Anxiously we awaited the result in our chamber. The ghosts appeared this time not to rage so wickedly; and, mark, the next morning the sails were still rolled up as we had left them. During the day we extended only as much as was necessary to bear the ship gently along, and so in five days we made considerable headway.At last, on the morning of the sixth day, we espied land at a short distance, and thanked Allah and his Prophet for our wonderful deliverance. This day and the following night we sailed along the coast, and on the seventh morning thought we discovered a city at no great distance: with a good deal of trouble we cast an anchor into the sea, which soon reached the bottom; then launching a boat which stood upon the deck, we rowed with all our might towards the city. After half an hour we ran into a river that emptied into the sea, and stepped ashore. At the gate we inquired what the place was called, and learned that it was an Indian city, not far from the region to which at first I had intended to sail. We repaired to a Caravansery, and refreshed ourselves after our adventurous sail. I there inquired for a wise and intelligent man, at the same time giving the landlord to understand that I would like to have one tolerably conversant with magic. He conducted me to an unsightly house in a remote street, knocked thereat, and one let me in with the injunction that I should ask only for Muley.In the house, came to me a little old man with grizzled beard and a long nose, to demand my business. I told him I was in search of the wise Muley; he answered me that he was the man. I then asked his advice as to what I should do to the dead bodies, and how I must handle them in order to remove them from the ship.He answered me that the people of the ship were probably enchanted on account of a crime somewhere upon the sea: he thought the spell would be dissolved by bringing them to land, but this could be done only by taking up the planks on which they lay. In the sight of God and justice, he said that the ship, together with all the goods, belonged to me, since I had, as it were, found it; and, if I would keep it very secret, and make him a small present out of my abundance, he would assist me with his slaves to remove the bodies. I promised to reward him richly, and we set out on our expedition with five slaves, who were supplied with saws and hatchets. On the way, the magician Muley could not sufficiently praise our happy expedient of binding the sails around with the sentences from the Koran. He said this was the only means, by which we could have saved ourselves.It was still pretty early in the day when we reached the ship. We immediately set to work, and in an hour placed four in the boat. Some of the slaves were then obliged to row to land to bury them there. They told us, when they returned, that the bodies had spared them the trouble of burying, since, the moment they laid them on the earth, they had fallen to dust. We diligently set to work to saw off the bodies, and before evening all were brought to land. There were, at last, no more on board than the one that was nailed to the mast. Vainly sought we to draw the nail out of the wood, no strength was able to start it even a hair’s-breadth. I knew not what next to do, for we could not hew down the mast in order to bring him to land; but in this dilemma Muley came to my assistance. He quickly ordered a slave to row to land and bring a pot of earth. When he had arrived with it, the magician pronounced over it some mysterious words, and cast it on the dead man’s head. Immediately the latter opened his eyes, drew a deep breath, and the wound of the nail in his forehead began to bleed. We now drew it lightly forth, and the wounded man fell into the arms of one of the slaves.“Who bore me hither?” he exclaimed, after he seemed to have recovered himself a little. Muley made signs to me, and I stepped up to him.“Thank thee, unknown stranger; thou hast freed me from long torment. For fifty years has my body been sailing through these waves, and my spirit was condemned to return to it every night. But now my head has come in contact with the earth, and, my crime expiated, I can go to my fathers!”I entreated him, thereupon, to tell how he had been brought to this horrible state, and he began—“Fifty years ago, I was an influential, distinguished man, and resided in Algiers: a passion for gain urged me on to fit out a ship, and turn pirate. I had already followed this business some time, when once, at Zante, I took on board a Dervise, who wished to travel for nothing. I and my companions were impious men, and paid no respect to the holiness of the man; I, in particular, made sport of him. When, however, on one occasion he upbraided me with holy zeal for my wicked course of life, that same evening, after I had been drinking to excess with my pilot in the cabin, anger overpowered me. Reflecting on what the Dervise had said to me, which I would not have borne from a Sultan, I rushed upon deck, and plunged my dagger into his breast. Dying, he cursed me and my crew, and doomed us not to die and not to live, until we should lay our heads upon the earth.“The Dervise expired, and we cast him overboard, laughing at his menaces; that same night, however, were his words fulfilled. One portion of my crew rose against me; with terrible courage the struggle continued, until my supporters fell, and I myself was nailed to the mast. The mutineers, however, also sank under their wounds, and soon my ship was but one vast grave. My eyes also closed, my breath stopped—I thought I was dying. But it was only a torpor which held me chained: the following night, at the same hour in which we had cast the Dervise into the sea, I awoke, together with all my comrades; life returned, but we could do and say nothing but what had been done and said on that fatal night. Thus we sailed for fifty years, neither living nor dying, for how could we reach the land? With mad joy we ever dashed along, with full sails, before the storm, for we hoped at last to be wrecked upon some cliff, and to compose our weary heads to rest upon the bottom of the sea; but in this we never succeeded. Now I shall die! Once again, unknown preserver, accept my thanks, and if treasures can reward thee, then take my ship in token of my gratitude.”With these words the Captain let his head drop, and expired. Like his companions, he immediately fell to dust. We collected this in a little vessel, and buried it on the shore: and I took workmen from the city to put the ship in good condition. After I had exchanged, with great advantage, the wares I had on board for others, I hired a crew, richly rewarded my friend Muley, and set sail for my fatherland. I took a circuitous route, in the course of which I landed at several islands and countries, to bring my goods to market. The Prophet blessed my undertaking. After several years I ran into Balsora, twice as rich as the dying Captain had made me. My fellow-citizens were amazed at my wealth and good fortune, and would believe nothing else but that I had found the diamond-valley of the far-famed traveller Sinbad. I left them to their belief; henceforth must the young folks of Balsora, when they have scarcely arrived at their eighteenth year, go forth into the world, like me, to seek their fortunes. I, however, live in peace and tranquillity, and every five years make a journey to Mecca, to thank the Lord for his protection, in that holy place, and to entreat for the Captain and his crew, that He will admit them into Paradise.The march of the Caravan proceeded the next day without hinderance, and when they halted, Selim the Stranger began thus to speak to Muley, the youngest of the merchants:“You are, indeed, the youngest of us, nevertheless you are always in fine spirits, and, to a certainty, know for us, some right merry story. Out with it then, that it may refresh us after the heat of the day.”“I might easily tell you something,” answered Muley, “which would amuse you, nevertheless modesty becomes youth in all things; therefore must my older companions have the precedence. Zaleukos is ever so grave and reserved; should not he tell us what has made his life so serious? Perhaps we could assuage his grief, if such he have; for gladly would we serve a brother, even if he belong to another creed.”The person alluded to was a Grecian merchant of middle age, handsome and strongly built, but very serious. Although he was an unbeliever, (that is, no Mussulman,) still his companions were much attached to him, for his whole conduct had inspired them with respect and confidence. He had only one hand, and some of his companions conjectured that, perhaps, this loss gave so grave a tone to his character. Zaleukos thus answered Muley’s friendly request:“I am much honored by your confidence: grief have I none, at least none from which, even with your best wishes, you can relieve me. Nevertheless, since Muley appears to blame me for my seriousness, I will relate to you something which will justify me when I am more grave than others. You see that I have lost my left hand; this came not to me at my birth, but I lost it in the most unhappy days of my life. Whether I bear the fault thereof, whether I am wrong to be more serious than my condition in life would seem to make me, you must decide, when I have told you the Story of the Hewn-off Hand.”
There was a man called Odshedoph, or the Child of Strong Desires, who had a wife and one son. He had withdrawn his family from the village, where they had spent the winter, to the neighborhood of a distant forest, where game abounded. This wood was a day’s travel from his winter home, and under its ample shadow the wife fixed the lodge, while the husband went out to hunt. Early in the evening he returned with a deer, and, being weary and athirst, he asked his son, whom he called Strong Desire, to go to the river for some water. The son replied that it was dark, and he was afraid. His father still urged him, saying that his mother, as well as himself, was tired, and the distance to the water very short. But no persuasion could overcome the young man’s reluctance. He refused to go.“Ah, my son,” said the father, at last, “if you are afraid to go to the river, you will never kill the Red Head.”The stripling was deeply vexed by this observation; it seemed to touch him to the very quick. He mused in silence. He refused to eat, and made no reply when spoken to. He sat by the lodge door all the night through, looking up at the stars, and sighing like one sorely distressed.The next day he asked his mother to dress the skin of the deer, and to make it into moccasins for him, while he busied himself in preparing a bow and arrows.As soon as these were in readiness, he left the lodge one morning, at sunrise, without saying a word to his father or mother. As he passed along, he fired one of his arrows into the air, which fell westward. He took that course, and coming to the spot where the arrow had fallen, he was rejoiced to find it piercing the heart of a deer. He refreshed himself with a meal of the venison, and the next morning he fired another arrow. Following its course, after traveling all day he found that he had transfixed another deer. In this manner he fired four arrows, and every evening he discovered that he had killed a deer.By a strange oversight, he left the arrows sticking in the carcasses, and passed on without withdrawing them. Having in this way no arrow for the fifth day, he was in great distress at night for the want of food.At last he threw himself upon the earth in despair, concluding that he might as well perish there as go further. But he had not lain long before he heard a hollow rumbling noise, in the ground beneath him, like that of an earthquake moving slowly along.He sprang up, and discovered at a distance the figure of a human being, walking with a stick. He looked attentively, and saw that the figure was walking in a wide beaten path in a prairie, leading from a dusky lodge to a lake, whose waters were black and turbid.To his surprise, this lodge, which had not been in view when he cast himself upon the ground, was now near at hand. He approached a little nearer, and concealed himself; and in a moment he discovered that the figure was no other than that of the terrible witch, the little old woman who makes war. Her path to the lake was perfectly smooth and solid, and the noise Strong Desire had heard was caused by the striking of her walking staff upon the ground. The top of this staff was decorated with a string of the toes and bills of birds of every kind, who, at every stroke of the stick, fluttered and sung their various notes in concert.She entered her lodge and laid off her mantle, which was entirely composed of the scalps of women. Before folding it, she shook it several times, and at every shake the scalps uttered loud shouts of laughter, in which the old hag joined. The boy, who lingered at the door, was greatly alarmed, but he uttered no cry.After laying by the cloak, she came directly to him. Looking at him steadily, she informed him that she had known him from the time he had left his father’s lodge, and had watched his movements. She told him not to fear or despair, for she would be his protector and friend. She invited him into her lodge, and gave him a supper. During the repast, she questioned him as to his motives for visiting her. He related his history, stated the manner in which he had been disgraced, and the difficulties he labored under.“Now tell me truly,” said the little old woman who makes war, “you were afraid to go to the water in the dark.”“I was,” Strong Desire answered, promptly.As he replied, the hag waved her staff. The birds set up a clamorous cry, and the mantle shook violently as all the scalps burst into a hideous shout of laughter.“And are you afraid now,” she asked again.“I am,” again answered Strong Desire, without hesitation.“But you are not afraid to speak the truth,” rejoined the little old woman. “You will be a brave man yet.”She cheered him with the assurance of her friendship, and began at once to exercise her power upon him. His hair being very short, she took a great leaden comb, and after drawing it through his locks several times, they became of a handsome length like those of a beautiful young woman. She then proceeded to dress him as a female, furnishing him with the necessary garments, and tinting his face with colors of the most charming dye. She gave him, too, a bowl of shining metal. She directed him to put in his girdle a blade of scented sword-grass, and to proceed the next morning to the banks of the lake, which was no other than that over which the Red Head reigned. Now Hah-Undo-Tah, or the Red Head, was a most powerful sorcerer, living upon an island in the centre of his realm of water, and he was the terror of all the country. She informed him that there would be many Indians upon the island, who, as soon as they saw him use the shining bowl to drink with, would come and solicit him to be their wife, and to take him over to the island. These offers he was to refuse, and to say that he had come a great distance to be the wife of the Red Head, and that if the chief could not seek her for himself, she would return to her village. She said, that as soon as the Red Head heard of this he would come for her in his own canoe, in which she must embark.“On reaching the shore,” added the little old woman, “you must consent to be his wife; and in the evening you are to induce him to take a walk out of the village, and when you have reached a lonesome spot, use the first opportunity to cut off his head with the blade of grass.”She also gave Strong Desire general advice how he was to conduct himself to sustain his assumed character of a woman. His fear would scarcely permit him to consent to engage in an adventure attended with so much danger; but the recollection of his father’s looks and reproaches of the want of courage, decided him.Early in the morning he left the lodge of the little old woman who makes war, which was clouded in a heavy brackish fog, so thick and heavy to breathe, that he with difficulty made his way forth. When he turned to look back for it, it was gone.He took the hard beaten path to the banks of the lake, and made for the water at a point directly opposite the Red Head’s lodge.Where he now stood it was beautiful day. The heavens were clear, and the sun shone out as brightly to Strong Desire as on the first morning when he had put forth his little head from the door of his father’s lodge. He had not been long there, sauntering along the beach, when he displayed the glittering bowl by dipping water from the lake. Very soon a number of canoes came off from the island. The men admired his dress, and were charmed with his beauty, and almost with one voice they all made proposals of marriage. These, Strong Desire promptly declined.When this was reported to Red Head, he ordered his royal bark to be launched by his chosen men of the oar, and crossed over to see this wonderful girl. As they approached the shore, Strong Desire saw that the ribs of the sorcerer’s canoe were formed of living rattlesnakes, whose heads pointed outward to guard him from his enemies. Being invited, he had no sooner stepped into the canoe, than they began to hiss and rattle furiously, which put him in a great fright; but the magician spoke to them, when they became pacified and quiet. Shortly after they were at the landing upon the island. The marriage took place immediately; and the bride made presents of various valuables which had been furnished her by the old witch who inhabited the cloudy lodge.As they were sitting in the lodge, surrounded by the friends and relatives, the mother of the Red Head regarded the face of her new daughter-in-law for a long time with fixed attention. From this scrutiny she was convinced that this singular and hasty marriage boded no good to her son. She drew him aside, and disclosed to him her suspicions. This can be no female, said she; she has the figure and manners, the countenance, and more especially the eyes, are beyond a doubt those of a man. Her husband rejected her suspicions, and rebuked her severely for entertaining such notions of her own daughter-in-law. She still urged her doubts, which so vexed the husband that he broke his pipe-stem in her face, and called her an owl.This act astonished the company, who sought an explanation; and it was no sooner given, than the mock bride, rising with an air of offended dignity, informed the Red Head that after receiving so gross an affront from his relatives she could not think of remaining with him as his wife, but should forthwith return to her own friends.With a toss of the head, like that of an angry female, Strong Desire left the lodge, followed by Red Head, and walked away until he came to the beach of the island, near the spot where they had first landed. Red Head entreated him to remain, urging every motive, and making all sorts of magnificent promises—none of which seemed to make the least impression. Strong Desire, Red Head thought, was very hard-hearted. During these appeals they had seated themselves upon the ground, and Red Head, in great affliction, reclined his head upon his fancied wife’s lap. Strong Desire now changed his manner, was very kind and soothing, and suggested in the most winning accent that if Red Head would sleep soundly for awhile he might possibly dream himself out of all his troubles. Red Head, delighted at so happy a prospect, said that he would fall asleep immediately.“You have killed a good many men in your time, Red Head,” said Strong Desire, by way of suggesting an agreeable train of ideas to the sorcerer.“Hundreds,” answered Red Head; “and what is better, now that I am fairly settled in life by this happy marriage, I shall be able to give my whole attention to massacre.”“And you will kill hundreds more,” interposed Strong Desire, in the most insinuating manner imaginable.“Just so, my dear,” Red Head replied, with a great leer; “thousands. There will be no end to my delicious murders. I love dearly to kill people. I would like to kill you if you were not my wife.”“There, there,” said Strong Desire, with the coaxing air of a little coquette, “go to sleep; that’s a good Red Head.”No other subject of conversation occurring to the chief, now that he had exhausted the delightful topic of wholesale murder, he straightway fell into a deep sleep.The chance so anxiously sought for had come; and Strong Desire, with a smiling eye, drawing his blade of grass with lightning swiftness once across the neck of the Red Head, severed the huge and wicked head from the body.In a moment, stripping off his woman’s dress, underneath which he had all along worn his male attire, Strong Desire seized the bleeding trophy, plunged into the lake, and swam safely over to the main shore. He had scarcely reached it, when, looking back, he saw amid the darkness the torches of persons come out in search of the new married couple. He listened until they had found the headless body, and he heard their piercing shrieks of rage and sorrow as he took his way to the lodge of his kind adviser.The little old woman who makes war was in an excellent humor, and she received Strong Desire with rejoicing. She admired his prudence, and assured him his bravery should never be questioned again. Lifting up the head, which she gazed upon with vast delight, she said he need only have brought the scalp. Cutting off a lock of the hair for herself, she told him he might now return with the head, which would be evidence of an achievement that would cause his own people to respect him.“In your way home,” added the little old woman, “you will meet with but one difficulty. Maunkahkeesh, the Spirit of the Earth, requires an offering or sacrifice from all of her sons who perform extraordinary deeds. As you walk along in a prairie there will be an earthquake; the earth will open and divide the prairie in the middle. Take this partridge and throw it into the opening, and instantly spring over it.”With many thanks to the little old witch, who had so faithfully befriended him, Strong Desire took leave of her, and having, by the course pointed out, safely passed the earthquake, he arrived near his own village. He secretly hid his precious trophy.On entering the village, he found that his parents had returned from the place of their spring encampment by the wood-side, and that they were in heavy sorrowing for their son, whom they supposed to be lost. One and another of the young men had presented themselves to the disconsolate parents, and said, “Look up, I am your son;” but when they looked up, they beheld not the familiar face of Strong Desire.Having been often deceived in this manner, when their own son in truth presented himself they sat with their heads down, and with their eyes nearly blinded with weeping. It was some time before they could be prevailed upon to bestow a glance upon him. It was still longer before they could recognize him as their son who had refused to draw water from the river, at night, for fear, for his countenance was no longer that of a timid stripling; it was that of a man who has seen and done great things, and who has the heart to do greater still.When he recounted his adventures they believed him mad. The young men laughed at him—him, Strong Desire—who feared to walk to the river at night-time.He left the lodge, and ere their laughter had ceased, returned with his trophy. He held aloft the head of the Red Sorcerer, with the great ghastly leer which lighted it up before his last sleep, at prospect of a thousand future murders, fresh upon it. It was easily recognized, and the young men who had scoffed at Strong Desire shrunk into the corners out of sight. Strong Desire had conquered the terrible Red Head! All doubts of the truth of his adventures were dispelled.He was greeted with joy, and placed among the first warriors of the nation. He finally became a chief, and his family were ever after respected and esteemed.
There was once upon a time a lark who was the Tsar among the birds, and he took unto himself as his Tsaritsa a little shrew-mouse. They had a field all to themselves, which they sowed with wheat, and when the wheat grew up they divided it between them, when they found that there was one grain over! The mouse said, “Let me have it!” But the lark said, “No, let me have it!”––“What’s to be done?” thought they. They would have liked to take counsel of some one, but they had no parents or kinsmen, nobody at all to whom they could go and ask advice in the matter. At last the mouse said, “At any rate, let me have the first nibble!” The lark Tsar agreed to this; but the little mouse fastened her teeth in it and ran off into her hole with it, and there ate it all up. At this the Tsar lark was wrath, and collected all the birds of the air to make war upon the mouse Tsaritsa; but the Tsaritsa called together all the beasts to defend her, and so the war began. Whenever the beasts came rushing out of the wood to tear the birds to pieces, the birds flew up into the trees; but the birds kept in the air, and hacked and pecked the beasts wherever they could. Thus they fought the whole day, and in the evening they lay down to rest. Now when the Tsaritsa looked around upon her forces, she saw that the ant was taking no part in the war. She immediately went and commanded the ant to be there by evening, and when the ant came, the Tsaritsa ordered her to climb up the trees with her kinsmen and bite off the feathers round the birds’ wings.Next day, when there was light enough to see by, the mouse Tsaritsa cried, “Up, up, my warriors!” Thereupon the birds also rose up, and immediately fell to the ground, where the beasts tore them to bits. So the Tsaritsa overcame the Tsar. But there was one eagle who saw there was something wrong, so he did not try to fly, but remained sitting on the tree. And lo! there came an archer along that way, and seeing the eagle on the tree, he took aim at it; but the eagle besought him and said, “Do not kill me, and I’ll be of great service to thee!” The archer aimed a second time, but the eagle besought him still more and said, “Take me down rather and keep me, and thou shalt see that it will be to thy advantage.” The archer, however, took aim a third time, but the eagle began to beg of him most piteously, “Nay, kill me not, but take me home with thee, and thou shalt see what great advantage it will be to thee!” The archer believed the bird. He climbed up the tree, took the eagle down, and carried it home. Then the eagle said to him, “Put me in a hut, and feed me with flesh till my wings have grown again.”Now this archer had two cows and a steer, and he at once killed and cut up one of the cows for the eagle. The eagle fed upon this cow for a full year, and then he said to the archer, “Let me go, that I may fly. I see that my wings have already grown again!” Then the archer let him loose from the hut. The eagle flew round and round, he flew about for half a day, and then he returned to the archer and said, “I feel I have but little strength in me, slay me another cow!” And the archer obeyed him, and slew the second cow, and the eagle lived upon that for yet another year. Again the eagle flew round and round in the air. He flew round and about the whole day till evening, when he returned to the archer and said, “I am stronger than I was, but I have still but little strength in me, slay me the steer also!” Then the man thought to himself, “What shall I do? Shall I slay it, or shall I not slay it?” At last he said, “Well! I’ve sacrificed more than this before, so let this go too!” and he took the steer and slaughtered it for the eagle. Then the eagle lived upon this for another whole year longer, and after that he took to flight, and flew high up right to the very clouds. Then he flew down again to the man and said to him, “I thank thee, brother, for that thou hast been the saving of me! Come now and sit upon me!”––“Nay, but,” said the man, “what if some evil befall me?”––“Sit on me, I say!” cried the eagle. So the archer sat down upon the bird.Then the eagle bore him nearly as high as the big clouds, and then let him fall. Down plumped the man; but the eagle did not let him fall to the earth, but swiftly flew beneath him and upheld him, and said to him, “How dost thou feel now?”––“I feel,” said the man, “as if I had no life in me.”––Then the eagle replied, “That was just how I felt when thou didst aim at me the first time.” Then he said to him, “Sit on my back again!” The man did not want to sit on him, but what could he do? Sit he must. Then the eagle flew with him quite as high as the big clouds, and shook him off, and down he fell headlong till he was about two fathoms from the ground, when the bird again flew beneath him and held him up. Again the eagle asked him, “How dost thou feel?” And the man replied, “I feel just as if all my bones were already broken to bits!”––“That is just how I felt when thou didst take aim at me the second time,” replied the eagle. “But now sit on my back once more.” The man did so, and the eagle flew with him as high as the small fleecy clouds, and then he shook him off, and down he fell headlong; but when he was but a hand’s-breadth from the earth, the eagle again flew beneath him and held him up, and said to him, “How dost thou feel now?” And he replied, “I feel as if I no longer belonged to this world!”––“That is just how I felt when thou didst aim at me the third time,” replied the eagle. “But now,” continued the bird, “thou art guilty no more. We are quits. I owe thee naught, and thou owest naught to me; so sit on my back again, and I’ll take thee to my master.”They flew on and on, they flew till they came to the eagle’s uncle. And the eagle said to the archer, “Go to my house, and when they ask thee, ‘Hast thou not seen our poor child?’ reply, ‘Give me the magic egg, and I’ll bring him before your eyes!’” So he went to the house, and there they said to him, “Hast thou heard of our poor child with thine ears, or seen him with thine eyes, and hast thou come hither willingly or unwillingly?”––And he answered, “I have come hither willingly!”––Then they asked, “Hast thou smelt out anything of our poor youngster? for it is three years now since he went to the wars, and there’s neither sight nor sound of him more!”––And he answered, “Give me the magic egg, and I’ll bring him straightway before your eyes!”––Then they replied, “’Twere better we never saw him than that we should give thee the magic egg!”––Then he went back to the eagle and said to him, “They said, ‘’Twere better we never saw him than that we should give thee the magic egg.’”––Then the eagle answered, “Let us fly on farther!”They flew on and on till they came to the eagle’s brother, and the archer said just the same to him as he had said to the eagle’s uncle, and still he didn’t get the egg. Then they flew to the eagle’s father, and the eagle said to him, “Go up to the hut, and if they ask for me, say that thou hast seen me and will bring me before their eyes.”––So he went up to the hut, and they said to him, “O Tsarevich, we hear thee with our ears and see thee with our eyes, but hast thou come hither of thine own free will or by the will of another?”––And the archer answered, “I have come hither of my own free will!”––Then they asked him, “Hast thou seen our son? Lo, these four years we have not had news of him. He went off to the wars, and perchance he has been slain there.”––And he answered them, “I have seen him, and if you will give me the magic egg, I will bring him before your eyes.”––And the eagle’s father said to him, “What good will such a thing do thee? We had better give thee the lucky penny!”––But he answered, “I don’t want the lucky penny, give me the magic egg!”––“Come hither then,” said he, “and thou shalt have it.” So he went into the hut. Then the eagle’s father rejoiced and gave him the egg, and said to him, “Take heed thou dost not break it anywhere on the road, and when thou gettest home, hedge it round and build a strong fence about it, and it will do thee good.”So he went homeward. He went on and on till a great thirst came upon him. So he stopped at the first spring he came to, and as he stooped to drink he stumbled and the magic egg was broken. Then he perceived that an ox had come out of the egg and was rolling away. He gave chase to the ox, but whenever he was getting close to one side of it, the other side of it got farther away from him. Then the poor fellow cried, “I shall do nothing with it myself, I see.”––At that moment an old she-dragon came up to him and said, “What wilt thou give me, O man, if I chase this ox back again into the egg for thee?”––And the archer replied, “What can I give?”––The dragon said to him, “Give me what thou hast at home without thy will and wit!”––“Done!” said the archer. Then the dragon chased the ox nicely into the egg again, patched it up prettily and gave it into the man’s hand. Then the archer went home, and when he got home he found a son had been born to him there, and his son said to him, “Why didst thou give me to the old she-dragon, dad? But never mind, I’ll manage to live in spite of her.” Then the father was very grieved for a time, but what could he do? Now the name of this son was Ivan.So Ivan lost no time in going to the dragon, and the dragon said to him, “Go to my house and do me three tasks, and if thou dost them not, I’ll devour thee.” Now, round the dragon’s house was a large meadow as far as the eye could reach. And the dragon said to him, “Thou must in a single night weed out this field and sow wheat in it, and reap the wheat and store it, all in this very night; and thou must bake me a roll out of this self-same wheat, and the roll must be lying ready for me on my table in the morning.”Then Ivan went and leaned over the fence, and his heart within him was sore troubled. Now near to him there was a post, and on this post was the dragon’s starveling daughter. So when he came thither and fell a-weeping, she asked him, “Wherefore dost thou weep?”––And he said, “How can I help weeping? The dragon has bidden me do something I can never, never do; and what is more, she has bidden me do it in a single night.”––“What is it, pray?” asked the dragon’s daughter. Then he told her. “Not every bush bears a berry!” cried she. “Promise to take me to wife, and I’ll do all she has bidden thee do.” He promised, and then she said to him again, “Now go and lie down, but see that thou art up early in the morning to bring her her roll.” Then she went to the field, and before one could whistle she had cleaned it of weeds and harrowed it and sown it with wheat, and by dawn she had reaped the wheat and cooked the roll and brought it to him, and said, “Now, take it to her hut and put it on her table.”Then the old she-dragon awoke and came to the door, and was amazed at the sight of the field, which was now all stubble, for the corn had been cut. Then she said to Ivan, “Yes, thou hast done the work well. But now, see that thou doest my second task.” Then she gave him her second command. “Dig up that mountain yonder and let the Dnieper flow over the site of it, and there build a store-house, and in the store-house stack the wheat that thou hast reaped, and sell this wheat to the merchant barques that sail by, and everything must be done by the time I get up early next morning!” Then he again went to the fence and wept, and the maiden said to him, “Why dost thou weep?” and he told her all that the she-dragon had bidden him do. “There are lots of bushes, but where are the berries? Go and lie down, and I’ll do it all for thee.” Then she whistled, and the mountain was levelled and the Dnieper flowed over the site of it, and round about the Dnieper store-houses rose up, and then she came and woke him that he might go and sell the wheat to the merchant barques that sailed by that way, and when the she-dragon rose up early in the morning she was amazed to see that everything had been done which she had commanded him.Then she gave him her third command. “This night thou must catch the golden hare, and bring it to me by the morning light.” Again he went to the fence and fell a-weeping. And the girl asked him, “Why art thou weeping?”––He said to her, “She has ordered me to catch her the golden hare.”––“Oh, oh!” cried the she-dragon’s daughter, “the berries are ripening now; only her father knows how to catch such a hare as that. Nevertheless, I’ll go to a rocky place I know of, and there perchance we shall be able to catch it.” So they went to this rocky place together, and she said to him, “Stand over that hole. I’ll go in and chase him out of the hole, and do thou catch him as he comes out; but mind, whatever comes out of the hole, seize it, for it will be the golden hare.”So she went and began beating up, and all at once out came a snake and hissed, and he let it go. Then she came out of the hole and said to him, “What! has nothing come out?”––“Well,” said he, “only a snake, and I was afraid it would bite me, so I let it go.”––“What hast thou done?” said she; “that was the very hare itself. Look now!” said she, “I’ll go in again, and if any one comes out and tells you that the golden hare is not here, don’t believe it, but hold him fast.” So she crept into the hole again and began to beat for game, and out came an old woman, who said to the youth, “What art thou poking about there for?”––And he said to her, “For the golden hare.”––She said to him, “It is not here, for this is a snake’s hole,” and when she had said this she went away. Presently the girl also came out and said to him, “What! hast thou not got the hare? Did nothing come out then?”––“No,” said he, “nothing but an old woman who asked me what I was seeking, and I told her the golden hare, and she said, ‘It is not here,’ so I let her go.”––Then the girl replied, “Why didst thou not lay hold of her? for she was the very golden hare itself, and now thou never wilt catch it unless I turn myself into a hare and thou take and lay me on the table, and give me into my mother’s, the she-dragon’s hands, and go away, for if she find out all about it she will tear the pair of us to pieces.”So she changed herself into a hare, and he took and laid her on the table, and said to the she-dragon, “There’s thy hare for thee, and now let me go away!” She said to him, “Very well––be off!” Then he set off running, and he ran and ran as hard as he could. Soon after, the old she-dragon discovered that it was not the golden hare, but her own daughter, so she set about chasing after them to destroy them both, for the daughter had made haste in the meantime to join Ivan. But as the she-dragon couldn’t run herself, she sent her husband, and he began chasing them, and they knew he was coming, for they felt the earth trembling beneath his tread. Then the she-dragon’s daughter said to Ivan, “I hear him running after us. I’ll turn myself into standing wheat and thee into an old man guarding me, and if he ask thee, ‘Hast thou seen a lad and a lass pass by this way?’ say to him, ‘Yes, they passed by this way while I was sowing this wheat!’”A little while afterward the she-dragon’s husband came flying up. “Have a lad and a lass passed by this way?” said he. “Yes,” replied the old man, “they have.”––“Was it long ago?” asked the she-dragon’s husband.––“It was while this wheat was being sown,” replied the old man.––“Oh!” thought the dragon, “this wheat is ready for the sickle, they couldn’t have been this way yesterday,” so he turned back. Then the she-dragon’s daughter turned herself back into a maiden and the old man into a youth, and off they set again. But the dragon returned home, and the she-dragon asked him, “What! hast thou not caught them or met them on the road?”––“Met them, no!” said he. “I did, indeed, pass on the road some standing wheat and an old man watching it, and I asked the old man if he had seen a lad and a lass pass by that way, and he said, ‘Yes, while this wheat was being sown,’ but the wheat was quite ripe for the sickle, so I knew it was a long while ago and turned back.”––“Why didst thou not tear that old man and the wheat to pieces?” cried the she-dragon; “it was they! Be off after them again, and mind, this time tear them to pieces without fail.”So the dragon set off after them again, and they heard him coming from afar, for the earth trembled beneath him, so the damsel said to Ivan, “He’s coming again, I hear him; now I’ll change myself into a monastery, so old that it will be almost falling to pieces, and I’ll change thee into an old black monk at the gate, and when he comes up and asks, ‘Hast thou seen a lad and a lass pass this way?’ say to him, ‘Yes, they passed by this way when this monastery was being built.’” Soon afterward the dragon came flying past, and asked the monk, “Hast thou seen a lad and a lass pass by this way?”––“Yes,” he replied, “I saw them what time the holy fathers began to build this monastery.” The dragon thought to himself, “That was not yesterday! This monastery has stood a hundred years if it has stood a day, and won’t stand much longer either,” and with that he turned him back. When he got home, he said to the she-dragon, his wife, “I met a black monk who serves in a monastery, and I asked him about them, and he told me that a lad and a lass had run past that way when the monastery was being built, but that was not yesterday, for the monastery is a hundred years old at the very least.”––“Why didst thou not tear the black monk to pieces and pull down the monastery? for ’twas they. But I see I must go after them myself, thou art no good at all.”So off she set and ran and ran, and they knew she was coming, for the earth quaked and yawned beneath her. Then the damsel said to Ivan, “I fear me ’tis all over, for she is coming herself! Look now! I’ll change thee into a stream and myself into a fish––a perch.” Immediately after the she-dragon came up and said to the perch, “Oh, oh! so thou wouldst run away from me, eh!” Then she turned herself into a pike and began chasing the perch, but every time she drew near to it, the perch turned its prickly fins toward her, so that she could not catch hold of it. So she kept on chasing it and chasing it, but finding she could not catch it, she tried to drink up the stream, till she drank so much of it that she burst.Then the maiden who had become a fish said to the youth who had become a river, “Now that we are alive and not dead, go back to thy lord-father and thy father’s house and see them, and kiss them all except the daughter of thy uncle, for if thou kiss that damsel thou wilt forget me, and I shall go to the land of Nowhere.” So he went home and greeted them all, and as he did so he thought to himself, “Why should I not greet my uncle’s daughter like the rest of them? Why, they’ll think me a mere pagan if I don’t!” So he kissed her, and the moment he did so he forgot all about the girl who had saved him.So he remained there half a year, and then bethought him of taking to himself a wife. So they betrothed him to a very pretty girl, and he accepted her and forgot all about the other girl who had saved him from the dragon, though she herself was the she-dragon’s daughter. Now the evening before the wedding they heard a young damsel crying Shishki (wedding cakes) in the streets. They called to the young damsel to go away, or say who she was, for nobody knew her. But the damsel answered never a word, but began to knead more cakes, and made a cock-dove and a hen-dove out of the dough and put them down on the ground, and they became alive. And the hen-dove said to the cock-dove, “Hast thou forgotten how I cleared the field for thee, and sowed it with wheat, and thou mad’st a roll from the corn which thou gavest to the she-dragon?”––But the cock-dove answered, “Forgotten! forgotten!”––Then she said to him again, “And hast thou forgotten how I dug away the mountain for thee, and let the Dnieper flow by it that the merchant barques might come to thy store-houses, and that thou mightst sell thy wheat to the merchant barques?” But the cock-dove replied, “Forgotten! forgotten!”––Then the hen-dove said to him again, “And hast thou forgotten how we two went together in search of the golden hare? Hast thou forgotten me then altogether?”––And the cock-dove answered again, “Forgotten! forgotten!” Then the good youth Ivan bethought him who this damsel was that had made the doves, and he took her to his arms and made her his wife, and they lived happily ever afterward.
There where the Yangtze-kiang has come about half-way on its course to the sea, the Frog King is worshiped with great devotion. He has a temple there and frogs by the thousand are to be found in the neighborhood, some of them of enormous size. Those who incur the wrath of the god are apt to have strange visitations in their homes. Frogs hop about on tables and beds, and in extreme cases they even creep up the smooth walls of the room without falling. There are various kinds of omens, but all indicate that some misfortune threatens the house in question. Then the people living in it become terrified, slaughter a cow and offer it as a sacrifice. Thus the god is mollified and nothing further happens.In that part of the country there once lived a youth named Sia Kung-Schong. He was handsome and intelligent. When he was some six or seven years of age, a serving-maid dressed in green entered his home. She said that she was a messenger from the Frog King, and declared that the Frog King wished to have his daughter marry young Sia. Old Sia was an honest man, not very bright, and since this did not suit him, he declined the offer on the plea that his son was still too young to marry. In spite of this, however, he did not dare look about for another mate for him.Then a few years passed and the boy gradually grew up. A marriage between him and a certain Mistress Giang was decided upon.But the Frog King sent word to Mistress Giang: “Young Sia is my son-in-law. How dare you undertake to lay claim to what does not belong to you!” Then Father Giang was frightened, and took back his promise.This made Old Sia very sad. He prepared a sacrifice and went to his temple to pray. He explained that he felt unworthy of becoming the relation of a god. When he had finished praying a multitude of enormous maggots made their appearance in the sacrificial meat and wine, and crawled around. He poured them out, begged forgiveness, and returned home filled with evil forebodings. He did not know what more he could do, and had to let things take their course.One day young Sia went out into the street. A messenger stepped up to him and told him, on the part of the Frog King that the latter urgently requested Sia to come to him. There was no help for it; he had to follow the messenger. He led him through a red gateway into some magnificent, high-ceilinged rooms. In the great hall sat an ancient man who might have been some eighty years of age. Sia cast himself down on the ground before him in homage. The old man bade him rise, and assigned him a place at the table. Soon a number of girls and women came crowding in to look at him. Then the old man turned to them and said: “Go to the room of the bride and tell her that the bridegroom has arrived!”Quickly a couple of maids ran away, and shortly after an old woman came from the inner apartments, leading a maiden by the hand, who might have been sixteen years of age, and was incomparably beautiful. The old man pointed to her and said: “This is my tenth little daughter. It seemed to me that you would make a good pair. But your father has scorned us because of our difference in race. Yet one’s marriage is a matter that is of life-long importance. Our parents can determine it only in part. In the end it rests mainly with one’s self.”Sia looked steadily at the girl, and a fondness for her grew in his heart. He sat there in silence. The old man continued: “I knew very well that the young gentleman would agree. Go on ahead of us, and we will bring you your bride!”Sia said he would, and hurried to inform his father. His father did not know what to do in his excitement. He suggested an excuse and wanted to send Sia back to decline his bride with thanks. But this Sia was not willing to do. While they were arguing the matter, the bride’s carriage was already at the door. It was surrounded by a crowd of greencoats, and the lady entered the house, and bowed politely to her parents-in-law. When the latter saw her they were both pleased, and the wedding was announced for that very evening.The new couple lived in peace and good understanding. And after they had been married their divine parents-in-law often came to their house. When they appeared dressed in red, it meant that some good fortune was to befall them; when they came dressed in white, it signified that they were sure to make some gain. Thus, in the course of time, the family became wealthy.But since they had become related to the gods the rooms, courtyards and all other places were always crowded with frogs. And no one ventured to harm them. Sia Kung-Schong alone was young and showed no consideration. When he was in good spirits he did not bother them, but when he got out of sorts he knew no mercy, and purposely stepped on them and killed them.In general his young wife was modest and obedient; yet she easily lost her temper. She could not approve her husband’s conduct. But Sia would not do her the favor to give up his brutal habit. So she scolded him because of it and he grew angry.“Do you imagine,” he told her, “that because your parents can visit human beings with misfortune, that a real man would be afraid of a frog?”His wife carefully avoided uttering the word “frog,” hence his speech angered her and she said: “Since I have dwelt in your house your fields have yielded larger crops, and you have obtained the highest selling prices. And that is something after all. But now, when young and old, you are comfortably established, you wish to act like the fledgling owl, who picks out his own mother’s eyes as soon as he is able to fly!”Sia then grew still more angry and answered: “These gifts have been unwelcome to me for a long time, for I consider them unclean. I could never consent to leave such property to sons and grandsons. It would be better if we parted at once!”So he bade his wife leave the house, and before his parents knew anything about it, she was gone. His parents scolded him and told him to go at once and bring her back. But he was filled with rage, and would not give in to them.That same night he and his mother fell sick. They felt weak and could not eat. The father, much worried, went to the temple to beg for pardon. And he prayed so earnestly that his wife and son recovered in three days’ time. And the Frog Princess also returned, and they lived together happily and contented as before.But the young woman sat in the house all day long, occupied solely with her ornaments and her rouge, and did not concern herself with sewing and stitching. So Sia Kung-Schong’s mother still had to look out for her son’s clothes.One day his mother was angry and said: “My son has a wife, and yet I have to do all the work! In other homes the daughter-in-law serves her mother-in-law. But in our house the mother-in-law must serve the daughter-in-law.”This the princess accidentally heard. In she came, much excited, and began: “Have I ever omitted, as is right and proper, to visit you morning and evening? My only fault is that I will not burden myself with all this toil for the sake of saving a trifling sum of money!” The mother answered not a word, but wept bitterly and in silence because of the insult offered her.Her son came along and noticed that his mother had been weeping. He insisted on knowing the reason, and found out what had happened. Angrily he reproached his wife. She raised objections and did not wish to admit that she had been in the wrong. Finally Sia said: “It is better to have no wife at all than one who gives her mother-in-law no pleasure. What can the old frog do to me after all, if I anger him, save call misfortunes upon me and take my life!” So he once more drove his wife out of the house.The princess left her home and went away. The following day fire broke out in the house, and spread to several other buildings. Tables, beds, everything was burned.Sia, in a rage because of the fire, went to the temple to complain: “To bring up a daughter in such a way that she does not please her parents-in-law shows that there is no discipline in a house. And now you even encourage her in her faults. It is said the gods are most just. Are there gods who teach men to fear their wives? Incidentally, the whole quarrel rests on me alone. My parents had nothing to do with it. If I was to be punished by the ax and cord, well and good. You could have carried out the punishment yourself. But this you did not do. So now I will burn your own house in order to satisfy my own sense of justice!”With these words he began piling up brush-wood before the temple, struck sparks and wanted to set it ablaze. The neighbors came streaming up, and pleaded with him. So he swallowed his rage and went home.When his parents heard of it, they grew pale with a great fear. But at night the god appeared to the people of a neighboring village, and ordered them to rebuild the house of his son-in-law. When day began to dawn they dragged up building-wood and the workmen all came in throngs to build for Sia. No matter what he said he could not prevent them. All day long hundreds of workmen were busy. And in the course of a few days all the rooms had been rebuilt, and all the utensils, curtains and furniture were there as before. And when the work had been completed the princess also returned. She climbed the stairs to the great room, and acknowledged her fault with many tender and loving words. Then she turned to Sia Kung-Schong, and smiled at him sideways. Instead of resentment joy now filled the whole house. And after that time the princess was especially peaceable. Two whole years passed without an angry word being said.But the princess had a great dislike for snakes. Once, by way of a joke, young Sia put a small snake into a parcel, which he gave her and told her to open. She turned pale and reproached him. Then Sia-Kung-Schong also took his jest seriously, and angry words passed.At last the princess said: “This time I will not wait for you to turn me out. Now we are finally done with one another!” And with that she walked out of the door.Father Sia grew very much alarmed, beat his son himself with his staff, and begged the god to be kind and forgive. Fortunately there were no evil consequences. All was quiet and not a sound was heard.Thus more than a year passed. Sia-Kung-Schong longed for the princess and took himself seriously to task. He would creep in secret to the temple of the god, and lament because he had lost the princess. But no voice answered him. And soon afterward he even heard that the god had betrothed his daughter to another man. Then he grew hopeless at heart, and thought of finding another wife for himself. Yet no matter how he searched he could find none who equalled the princess. This only increased his longing for her, and he went to the home of the Yuans, to a member of which family it was said she had been promised. There they had already painted the walls, and swept the courtyard, and all was in readiness to receive the bridal carriage. Sia was overcome with remorse and discontent. He no longer ate, and fell ill. His parents were quite stunned by the anxiety they felt on his account, and were incapable of helpful thought.Suddenly while he was lying there only half-conscious, he felt some one stroke him, and heard a voice say: “And how goes it with our real husband, who insisted on turning out his wife?”He opened his eyes and it was the princess.Full of joy he leaped up and said: “How is it you have come back to me?” The princess answered: “To tell the truth, according to your own habit of treating people badly, I should have followed my father’s advice and taken another husband. And, as a matter of fact, the wedding gifts of the Yuan family have been lying in my home for a long time. But I thought and thought and could not bring myself to do so. The wedding was to have been this evening and my father thought it shameful to have the wedding gifts carried back. So I took the things myself and placed them before the Yuan’s door. When I went out my father ran out beside me: ‘You insane girl,’ he said, ‘so you will not listen to what I say! If you are ill-treated by Sia in the future I wash my hands of it. Even if they kill you you shall not come home to me again!’”Moved by her faithfulness the tears rolled from Sia’s eyes. The servants, full of joy, hurried to the parents to acquaint them with the good news. And when they heard it they did not wait for the young people to come to them, but hastened themselves to their son’s rooms, took the princess by the hand and wept. Young Sia, too, had become more settled by this time, and was no longer so mischievous. So he and his wife grew to love each other more sincerely day by day.Once the princess said to him: “Formerly, when you always treated me so badly, I feared that we would not keep company into our old age. So I never asked heaven to send us a child. But now that all has changed, and I will beg the gods for a son.”And, sure enough, before long Sia’s parents-in-law appeared in the house clad in red garments, and shortly after heaven sent the happy pair two sons instead of one.From that time on their intercourse with the Frog-King was never interrupted. When some one among the people had angered the god, he first tried to induce young Sia to speak for him, and sent his wife and daughter to the Frog Princess to implore her aid. And if the princess laughed, then all would be well.The Sia family has many descendants, whom the people call “the little frog men.” Those who are near them do not venture to call them by this name, but those standing further off do so.Note: “Little frog men,” Wa Dsi, is the derogatory name which the North Chinese give the Chinese of the South on occasion.
One day Juan’s father sent him to get some ripe guavas, for a number of the neighbors had come in and he wanted to give them something to eat.Juan went to the guava bushes and ate all the fruit he could hold, and then he decided to play a joke on his father’s guests instead of giving them a feast of guavas. A wasp’s nest hung near by. With some difficulty he succeeded in taking it down and putting it into a tight basket that he had brought for the fruit. He hastened home and gave the basket to his father, and then as he left the room where the guests were seated he closed the door and fastened it.As soon as Juan’s father opened the basket the wasps flew over the room; and when the people found the door locked they fought to get out of the windows. After a while Juan opened the door, and when he saw the swollen faces of the people, he cried.“What fine, rich guavas you must have had! They have made you all so fat!”.
A Cat pounced on a Cock, and cast about for some good excuse for making a meal off him, for Cats don’t as a rule eat Cocks, and she knew she ought not to. At last she said, “You make a great nuisance of yourself at night by crowing and keeping people awake: so I am going to make an end of you.” But the Cock defended himself by saying that he crowed in order that men might wake up and set about the day’s work in good time, and that they really couldn’t very well do without him. “That may be,” said the Cat, “but whether they can or not, I’m not going without my dinner”; and she killed and ate him.The want of a good excuse never kept a villain from crime.
There was once a king, who had lost his wife. They had a family of thirteen—twelve gallant sons, and one daughter, who was exquisitely beautiful.For twelve years after his wife’s death the king grieved very much; he used to go daily to her tomb, and there weep, and pray, and give away alms to the poor. He thought never to marry again; for he had promised his dying wife never to give her children a stepmother.One day, when visiting his dead wife’s grave as usual, he saw beside him a maiden so entrancingly fair, that he fell in love with her, and soon made her his second queen. But before long he found out that he had made a great mistake. Though she was so beautiful she turned out to be a wicked sorceress, and not only made the king himself unhappy, but proved most unkind to his children, whom she wished out of the way, so that her own little son might inherit the kingdom.One day, when the king was far away, at war against his enemies, the queen went into her stepchildren’s apartments, and pronounced some magical words—on which every one of the twelve princes flew away in the shape of an eagle, and the princess was changed into a dove.The queen looked out of the window, to see in what direction they would fly, when she saw right under the window an old man, with a beard as white as snow.“What are you here for, old man?” she asked.“To be witness of your deed,” he answered.“Then you saw it?”“I saw it.”“Then be what I command!”She whispered some magical words. The old man disappeared in a blaze of sunshine; and the queen, as she stood there, dumb with terror, was changed into a basilisk.The basilisk ran off in fright; trying to hide herself underground. But her glance was so deadly, that it killed every one she looked at; so that all the people in the palace were soon dead, including her own son, whom she slew by merely looking at him. And this once populous and happy royal residence quickly became an uninhabited ruin, which no one dared approach, for fear of the basilisk lurking in its underground vaults.Meanwhile the princess, who had been changed into a dove, flew after her brothers the eagles, but not being able to overtake them, she rested under a wayside cross, and began cooing mournfully.“What are you grieving for, pretty dove?” asked an old man, with a snow-white beard, who just then came by.“I am grieving for my poor dear father, who is fighting in the wars far away; for my loved brothers, who have flown away from me into the clouds. I am grieving also for myself. Not long ago I was a happy princess; and now I must wander over the world as a dove, to hide from the birds of prey—and be parted for ever from my dear father and brothers!”“You may grieve and weep, little dove; but do not lose hope,” said the old man. “Sorrow is only for a time, and all will come right in the end.”So saying he stroked the little dove, and she at once regained her natural shape. She kissed the old man’s hand in her gratitude, saying:“How can I ever thank you enough! But since you are so kind, will you not tell me how to rescue my brothers?”The old man gave her an ever-growing loaf, and said:“This loaf is enough to sustain, not only you, but a thousand people for a thousand years, without ever diminishing. Go towards the sunset, and weep your tears into this little bottle. And when it is full….”And the old man told her what else to do, blessed her, and disappeared.The princess travelled on towards the sunset; and in about a year she reached the boundary of the next world, and stood before an iron door, where Death was keeping guard with his scythe.“Stop, princess!” he said; “You can proceed no further, for you are not yet parted by death from your own world.”“But what am I to do?” she asked. “Must I go back without my poor brothers?”“Your brothers,” said Death, “fly here every day in the guise of eagles. They want to reach the other side of this door, which leads into the other world; for they hate the one they live in; nevertheless they, and you also, must remain there, until your time be come. Therefore every day I must compel them to go back, which they can do, because they are eagles. But how are you going to get back yourself?—look there!”The princess looked around her, and wept bitterly. For though she had not perceived this before, nor seen how she got there, she saw now that she was in a deep abyss, shut in on all sides by such high precipices, that she wondered how her brothers, even with eagle wings, could fly to the top.But remembering what the mysterious old man had said she took courage, and began to pray and weep, till she had filled the little bottle with her tears. Soon she heard the sound of wings over her head, and saw twelve eagles flying.The eagles dashed themselves against the iron portal, beating their wings upon it, and imploring Death to open it to them. But Death only threatened them with his scythe, saying:“Hence! ye enchanted princes! you must fulfil your penance on earth, till I come for you myself.”The eagles were about to turn and fly, when all at once they perceived their sister. They came round her, and caressed her hands lovingly with their beaks.She at once began to sprinkle them with her tears from the lachrymatory; and in one moment the twelve eagles were changed back into the twelve princes, and joyfully embraced their sister.The princess then fed them all round from her ever-growing loaf; but when their hunger was appeased they began to be troubled as to how they were to ascend from the abyss, since they had no longer eagles’ wings to fly up.But the princess knelt down and prayed:“Bird of heavenly pity here, By each labour, prayer and tear, Come in thine unvanquished power, Come and aid us in this hour!”And all at once there shot down from heaven to the depth of the abyss a ray of sunshine, on which descended a gigantic bird, with rainbow wings, a bright sparkling crest, and peacock’s eyes all over his body, a golden tail, and silvery breast.“What are your commands, princess?” asked the bird.“Carry us from this threshold of eternity to our own world.”“I will, but you must know, princess, that before I can reach the top of this precipice with you on my back, three days and nights must pass; and I must have food on the way, or my strength will fail me, and I shall fall down with you to the bottom, and we shall all perish.”“I have an ever-growing loaf, which will suffice both for you and ourselves,” replied the princess.“Then climb upon my back, and whenever I look round, give me some bread to eat.”The bird was so large that all the princes, and the princess in the midst of them, could easily find place on his back, and he began to fly upwards.He flew higher and higher, and whenever he looked round at her, she gave him bits of the loaf, and he flew on, and upwards.So they went on steadily for two nights and days; but upon the third day, when they were hoping in a short time to view the summit of the precipice, and to land upon the borders of this world, the bird looked round as usual for a piece of the loaf.The princess was just going to break off some to give him, when a sudden violent gust of wind from the bottom of the abyss snatched the loaf from her hand, and sent it whistling downwards.Not having received his usual meal the bird became sensibly weaker, and looked round once more.The princess trembled with fear; she had nothing more to give him, and she felt that he was becoming exhausted. In utter desperation she cut off a piece of her flesh, and gave it to him.Having eaten this the bird recovered strength, and flew upwards faster than before; but after an hour or two he looked round once more.So she cut off another piece of her flesh; the bird seized it greedily, and flew on so fast that in a few minutes he reached the ground at the top of the precipice. When they alighted, and he asked her:“Princess, what were those two delicious morsels you gave me last? I never ate anything so good before.”“They were part of my flesh, I had nothing else for you,” replied the princess in a faint voice, for she was swooning away with pain and loss of blood.The bird breathed upon her wounds; and the flesh at once healed over, and grew again as before. Then he flew up again to heaven, and was lost in the clouds.The princess and her brothers resumed their journey, this time towards the sunrise, and at last arrived in their own country, where they met their father, returning from the wars.The king was coming back victorious over his enemies, and on his way home had first heard of the sudden disappearance of his children and of the queen, and how his palace was tenanted only by a basilisk with a death-dealing glance.He was therefore most surprised and overjoyed to meet his dear children once more, and on the way his daughter told him all that had come to pass.When they got back to the palace the king sent one of his nobles with a looking-glass down into the underground vaults. The basilisk saw herself reflected in this mirror, and her own glance slew her immediately.They gathered up the remains of the basilisk, and burnt them in a great fire in the courtyard, afterwards scattering the ashes to the four winds. When this was done the king, his sons, and his daughter, returned to live in their former home and were all as happy as could be ever after.
Once, long ago, when the Blackfeet Indians dwelt on the Canadian prairies, a poor Indian and his two children, a boy and a girl, were living near the bank of a great river. The children’s mother had long been dead and they had long been left to the care of their father. Their father did not think it was right that they should grow up without a woman’s kindness, and he decided at last to take another wife. So he went far away to a distant village and there he married a queer woman of another tribe. Soon times grew hard in the North Country, and it was very difficult to get food. The family lived for many days on roots and berries, and often they were very hungry because there was no meat.Now it happened that the woman the man had married was a very wicked witch-woman, who was capable of doing many evil deeds. She had no love for her stepchildren, and she treated them very cruelly. She blamed them for the lack of food in the house, and beating them soundly, she said, “You greedy brats; you always eat too much. It is little wonder that we cannot keep the house supplied with food.” The man saw his wife’s cruelty to the children, but although it made him sad, and at times angry, he did not interfere, for he thought the woman should rule her home.One night in the early spring, as the man slept, his first wife appeared to him in a dream, and said, “Hang a large spider web across the trail in the forest where the animals pass and you will get plenty of food. But be good to my children. Their cruel stepmother is planning to kill them.” And she told him where to look for the magical spider web. The next day the man found the large spider web, and he went far away into the forest and hung it from the trees over the trail where the animals passed. That evening when he went back to the web, he found many animals entangled in its meshes, for it had magical power. He killed the animals and brought them home, and that night they had a good fat supper of roast deer meat. Day after day, the magical spider web gave him great numbers of rabbits and deer, as the vision of his dead wife had told him in the night, and from that time on the family did not want for food.But the man’s success in hunting only angered his witch-wife. She had now no cause for complaint against the little children, and she could no longer scold them and say that because of them there was no food in the house. Her hatred for them grew stronger each day, and at last she decided to kill them and to kill their father as soon as she could. Their father was going away the next day to search of wood to make arrows for his bows, and she thought she would have a good chance to kill them while he was gone. Then she would kill their father when he returned. So she laid her plans. But that night the vision of his first wife came again to the man as he slept, and it said, “Your present wife is a witch-woman. She plans to kill the children tomorrow when you are away, and when you come home, she will kill you, too. You must kill her while there is yet time. Remember my little children.”When the man awoke in the morning, he was much alarmed because of the story told him by the vision of the night. He no longer trusted his witch-wife and he decided to get rid of her. But he feared she would attack the children before he could prevent it. So when the witch-wife went out to get water from the stream to make breakfast, he gave each of the children a stick, a white stone, and a bunch of soft moss, and he said, “You must run away from here and stay away until I can find you, for you are in great danger. You will find these three things I give you of great use. Throw them behind you if any evil thing pursues you, and they will keep you from harm.”The children in great fear at once ran away into the forest. Then the man hung his magical spider web over the door of the house, and sat quietly inside waiting for his wife to come back. In a little while she came home, carrying a pail of water, but she did not see the web with its fine strands hanging across the door, and when she walked into it she was at once entangled in its meshes. She struggled hard to get free, but her head was inside the door while her body was outside, and the web held her fast around the neck. Then the man said, “I know now that you are a cruel witch-woman. You will beat my children no more.” With his stone-axe he struck her a mighty blow which completely severed her head from her body. Then he ran from the house as fast as he could and went towards his children, who were watching him not far away.But the man was not yet done with the cruel witch-woman. As he ran from the house her headless body, freed from the spider web, ran after him, while her severed head, with eyes staring and hair flying, followed the children, sometimes bumping along the ground and sometimes rising through the air. The father thought it would be well to go in a different direction from the children, and he went west, while they went east. The children were very frightened when they saw the horrible head behind them, slowly gaining upon them. Then they remembered their father’s magic gifts. When the head was close upon them, they threw their sticks on the ground at their backs and at once a dense forest sprang up between them and their pursuer. The children said, “Now we will rest here for a while, for we are nearly out of breath. The wicked head cannot get through that dense forest.” And they sat on the grass and rested.Soon, however, the head emerged from the thick trees. The children got up and ran as hard as they could, but close behind them came the severed head, rolling its eyes and gnashing its teeth in a great frenzy, and uttering terrible yells. It was very near to them, when the children again remembered their father’s gifts. They threw the white stones behind them, and at once a high mountain of white rock rose between them and their enemy. They sat on the ground and rested, and said, “Oh dear, oh dear, what shall we do? We have only one means of safety left, these little bits of moss.” The wicked head hurled itself against the mountain, but it could not get through. A big buffalo bull was feeding on the grass near it, and the head called to him to break a road through the mountain. The bull rushed at the mountain with all his force, but the mountain was so hard that it broke his head and he fell down dead. Some moles were playing in the soft earth near by, and the head called to them to make a passage through the hill. So the moles searched and found a soft earthy place in the midst of the rock and soon they tunnelled a hole to the other side of the mountain, through which the head was able to pass.When the children saw their pursuer coming out of the moles’ tunnel they cried loudly and ran away as fast as they could. At last, after a very long chase, the head was almost upon them, and they decided to use their last means of protection. They threw the wet moss behind them, and at once a long black swamp appeared where the moss had fallen, between them and their wicked follower. The head was going at such a great speed, bumping over the ground, that it could not stop. It rolled into the swamp and disappeared into the soft mud and was never seen again.The children then went home to wait for their father. It was a long journey, for they had run far. But their father never came. Months and months they waited, but he did not come, and they grew up to be great magicians and very powerful among their tribe. At last, by their magic power, they learned what had happened to their father. Their stepmother’s body continued to follow him as he ran towards the west. It followed him for many days. Then by his magic power, which the vision of his dead wife had brought to him, he changed himself into the Sun, and went to live with his wife in the sky-country. But the old witch-woman also had magic power, and she changed herself into the Moon and followed him to the land of the stars. And there she still pursues him.And while he keeps ahead of her and she cannot catch him, night follows day in all the world. But if she overtakes him she will kill him, and day will disappear and night shall reign for evermore upon the earth. And the Blackfeet of the plains pray that he will always keep in front in the race with his former witch-wife, so that there may be always Night and Day in succession in all the land.
There was once a house that was overrun with Mice. A Cat heard of this, and said to herself, “That’s the place for me,” and off she went and took up her quarters in the house, and caught the Mice one by one and ate them. At last the Mice could stand it no longer, and they determined to take to their holes and stay there. “That’s awkward,” said the Cat to herself: “the only thing to do is to coax them out by a trick.” So she considered a while, and then climbed up the wall and let herself hang down by her hind legs from a peg, and pretended to be dead. By and by a Mouse peeped out and saw the Cat hanging there. “Aha!” it cried, “you’re very clever, madam, no doubt: but you may turn yourself into a bag of meal hanging there, if you like, yet you won’t catch us coming anywhere near you.”If you are wise you won’t be deceived by the innocent airs of those whom you have once found to be dangerous.
It was dreadfully cold; it was snowing fast, and was almost dark, as evening came on—the last evening of the year. In the cold and the darkness, there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but they were much too large for her feet—slippers that her mother had used till then, and the poor little girl lost them in running across the street when two carriages were passing terribly fast. When she looked for them, one was not to be found, and a boy seized the other and ran away with it, saying he would use it for a cradle some day, when he had children of his own.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Christmas fairy tales, in our collection Christmas Tales: The Night Before Christmas and 21 Other Christmas Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle. Listen to it in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}So on the little girl went with her bare feet, that were red and blue with cold. In an old apron that she wore were bundles of matches, and she carried a bundle also in her hand. No one had bought so much as a bunch all the long day, and no one had given her even a penny.Poor little girl! Shivering with cold and hunger she crept along, a perfect picture of misery.The snowflakes fell on her long flaxen hair, which hung in pretty curls about her throat; but she thought not of her beauty nor of the cold. Lights gleamed in every window, and there came to her the savory smell of roast goose, for it was New Year’s Eve. And it was this of which she thought.In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sat cowering down. She had drawn under her her little feet, but still she grew colder and colder; yet she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches and could not bring a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; and, besides, it was cold enough at home, for they had only the house-roof above them, and though the largest holes had been stopped with straw and rags, there were left many through which the cold wind could whistle.And now her little hands were nearly frozen with cold. Alas! a single match might do her good if she might only draw it from the bundle, rub it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. So at last she drew one out. Whisht! How it blazed and burned! It gave out a warm, bright flame like a little candle, as she held her hands over it. A wonderful little light it was. It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a great iron stove with polished brass feet and brass shovel and tongs. So blessedly it burned that the little maiden stretched out her feet to warm them also. How comfortable she was! But lo! the flame went out, the stove vanished, and nothing remained but the little burned match in her hand.She rubbed another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and where the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil, so that she could see through it into the room. A snow-white cloth was spread upon the table, on which was a beautiful china dinner-service, while a roast goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, steamed famously and sent forth a most savory smell. And what was more delightful still, and wonderful, the goose jumped from the dish, with knife and fork still in its breast, and waddled along the floor straight to the little girl.But the match went out then, and nothing was left to her but the thick, damp wall.She lighted another match. And now she was under a most beautiful Christmas tree, larger and far more prettily trimmed than the one she had seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant’s. Hundreds of wax tapers were burning on the green branches, and gay figures, such as she had seen in shop windows, looked down upon her. The child stretched out her hands to them; then the match went out.Still the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in heaven, and one of them fell, forming a long trail of fire.“Now some one is dying,” murmured the child softly; for her grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that whenever a star falls a soul mounts up to God.She struck yet another match against the wall, and again it was light; and in the brightness there appeared before her the dear old grandmother, bright and radiant, yet sweet and mild, and happy as she had never looked on earth.“Oh, grandmother,” cried the child, “take me with you. I know you will go away when the match burns out. You, too, will vanish, like the warm stove, the splendid New Year’s feast, the beautiful Christmas tree.” And lest her grandmother should disappear, she rubbed the whole bundle of matches against the wall.And the matches burned with such a brilliant light that it became brighter than noonday. Her grandmother had never looked so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both flew together, joyously and gloriously, mounting higher and higher, far above the earth; and for them there was neither hunger, nor cold, nor care—they were with God.But in the corner, at the dawn of day, sat the poor girl, leaning against the wall, with red cheeks and smiling mouth—frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and cold she sat, with the matches, one bundle of which was burned.“She wanted to warm herself, poor little thing,” people said. No one imagined what sweet visions she had had, or how gloriously she had gone with her grandmother to enter upon the joys of a new year.
There was once a little boy, and his mother sent him to buy a sheep’s head and pluck; afraid he should forget it, the lad kept saying all the way along:“Sheep’s head and pluck!Sheep’s head and pluck!”Trudging along, he came to a stile; but in getting over he fell and hurt himself, and beginning to blubber, forgot what he was sent for. So he stood a little while to consider: at last he thought he recollected it, and began to repeat:“Liver and lights and gall and all!Liver and lights and gall and all!”Away he went again, and came to where a man had a pain in his liver, bawling out:“Liver and lights and gall and all!Liver and lights and gall and all!”Whereon the man laid hold of him and beat him, bidding him say:“Pray God send no more!Pray God send no more!”The youngster strode along, uttering these words, till he reached a field where a hind was sowing wheat:“Pray God send no more!Pray God send no more!”This was all his cry. So the sower began to thrash him, and charged him to repeat:“Pray God send plenty more!Pray God send plenty more!”Off the child scampered with these words in his mouth till he reached a churchyard and met a funeral, but he went on with his:“Pray God send plenty more!Pray God send plenty more!”The chief mourner seized and punished him, and bade him repeat:“Pray God send the soul to heaven!Pray God send the soul to heaven!”Away went the boy, and met a dog and a cat going to be hung, but his cry rang out:“Pray God send the soul to heaven!Pray God send the soul to heaven!”The good folk nearly were furious, seized and struck him, charging him to say:“A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!”This the poor fellow did, till he overtook a man and a woman going to be married. “Oh! oh!” he shouted:“A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!”The man was enraged, as we may well think, gave him many a thump, and ordered him to repeat:“I wish you much joy!I wish you much joy!”This he did, jogging along, till he came to two labourers who had fallen into a ditch. The lad kept bawling out:“I wish you much joy!I wish you much joy!”This vexed one of the folk so sorely that he used all his strength, scrambled out, beat the crier, and told him to say.“The one is out, I wish the other was!The one is out, I wish the other was!”On went young ‘un till he found a fellow with only one eye; but he kept up his song:“The one is out, I wish the other was!The one is out, I wish the other was!”This was too much for Master One-eye, who grabbed him and chastised him, bidding him call:“The one side gives good light, I wish the other did!The one side gives good light, I wish the other did!”So he did, to be sure, till he came to a house, one side of which was on fire. The people here thought it was he who had set the place a-blazing, and straightway put him in prison. The end was, the judge put on his black cap, and condemned him to die.
Once upon a time, ages and ages ago, people ate fruits and nuts. Then there came a time when the fruits and nuts became scarce. People had to eat meat. So they began killing the various beasts to see which ones were the best to eat. They skinned them and cut them in pieces and cooked them over the fire. Some of the beasts were good to eat and others were not good at all.The ox was found to be very good, and so was the sheep, and the armadillo. Then one day a man thought that he would try to eat the monkey.The monkey was playing his guitar. “Lee, lee, lee, lee, lee lay, lee lay, lee ray, lee ray.” The man came close to him and said, “Come here, little monkey, and let me hear your music. I enjoy it very much.” All the time the man was coming closer and closer to the monkey. Just as he was about to stretch out his hand and seize the monkey, the monkey gave a sudden leap to the tree and hurried away to the tree top.After that every time the man heard the monkey play the guitar he would come near and try to catch him. The monkey grew afraid of the man, so afraid that he gave up playing his guitar at all. For a long, long time he did not play upon it. One day he felt that he just must have some music. He hid in a hole in the ground and there he played upon his guitar. He did not think that the man would hear him, but the man had very sharp ears. When he got through playing he started to come out of the hole in the ground. There was the man waiting for him! He crawled quickly back,—so far back that the man could not catch him. The monkey waited and waited for the man to go away, but the man did not go away.After a while the man became thirsty and went to get a drink. He left his little boy in his place to watch for the monkey. After the man had gone away the monkey called out to the little boy, “O, little boy, O, little boy, don’t you wish that you could see the monkey dance?”The little boy replied that he wished he could.“Just put your eyes down to the door of my little cave, and I’ll let you see the monkey dance, little boy,” said the monkey.The little boy put his eyes down close to the hole in the ground. No sooner had he done so than the monkey threw dirt into the little boy’s eyes. When the little boy was rubbing his eyes to get the dirt out of them the monkey made a sudden dash out of the cave and escaped to the tree tops. When the man returned the little boy did not dare to tell him that the monkey had escaped. The man waited and waited and waited there by the hole in the ground. At last he became tired of waiting and went away.After that the man tried harder than ever to catch the monkey. If he had not had the good luck to catch the monkey napping one day there is no knowing when he would have got his hands upon him. One day, however, he caught the monkey napping. He shut him up in a box and carried him home to the children for supper.The man put a big dish full of water over the fire ready to cook the monkey. Then he went away to collect more fuel for the fire. The monkey and his guitar were shut up in the box, and there, inside the box, the monkey played on his guitar. “Lee, lee, lee, lee, lee lay, lee lay, lee ray, lee ray.” The children came crowding close to the box.“O, children, O, children,” said the monkey, “don’t you wish that you could see the monkey dance?”The children replied that they wished they could.“This box is so small that there is not room enough for me to dance here,” said the monkey. “Just let me out and I’ll show you how well I can dance.”The children opened the box and let the monkey out into the room. The monkey played on his guitar, “Lee, lee, lee, lee, lee lay, lee lay, lee ray, lee ray,” and he danced about the room. Then he said, “O, children! O, children! You have nothing at all cooking in that pot over the fire. Let us put something into the pot to cook.”The children thought that it would not be polite to tell the monkey what the pot of water was waiting for, so they let the monkey fill the pot as he liked. He put into it some little dry sticks and an empty cocoanut shell. Then he said, “O, children, O, children, I cannot dance any more. It is so hot here in this room.”The children begged him to dance some more.“If you will open the door a little bit, so that I can have more air to breathe, I’ll show you a new dance,” said the monkey.The children opened the door. The monkey danced over to the door and out of the door away to the tree top. That was the last they ever saw of him. He moved to another part of the country after that experience.When the man came home with fuel for the fire, the children did not dare to tell him that the monkey had escaped. They let him think that the sticks and the cocoanut shell in the pot was the monkey. He built a big roaring fire under the pot and soon it was boiling merrily. After the pot had boiled a while he called the children to come to supper with him. The children let him taste first. He fished a hard stick out of the pot and bit into it. “This is not the monkey’s leg. It is just a dry stick,” he said, as he made a wry face. Then he fished the empty cocoanut shell out of the pot. “That is not the monkey’s head,” he said as he tasted it, “That is just an empty cocoanut shell.” He couldn’t find a single trace of the monkey in that monkey stew. He never wished to make a monkey stew again.
There was once a peasant who had driven his cow to the fair, and sold her for seven coins. On the way home he had to pass a pond, and already from afar he heard the frogs crying, “Aik, aik, aik, aik.” “Well,” said he to himself, “they are talking without rhyme or reason, it is seven that I have received, not eight.” When he got to the water, he cried to them, “Stupid animals that you are! Don’t you know better than that? It is seven thalers and not eight.” The frogs, however, stood to their, “aik, aik, aik, aik.” “Come, then, if you won’t believe it, I can count it out to you,” and he got his money out of his pocket and counted out the seven coins, always reckoning four and twenty groschen to a coin. The frogs, however, would not pay any attention to his reckoning, but still cried, “aik, aik, aik, aik.” “What,” cried the peasant, quite angry, “since you are determined to know better than I, count it yourselves,” and threw all the money into the water to them. He stood still and wanted to wait until they were done and had brought him his own again, but the frogs maintained their opinion and cried continually “aik, aik, aik, aik,” and besides that, did not throw the money out again. He still waited a long while until evening came on and he was forced to go home. Then he abused the frogs and cried, “You water-splashers, you thick-heads, you goggle-eyes, you have great mouths and can screech till you hurt one’s ears, but you cannot count seven thalers! Do you think I’m going to stand here till you get done?” And with that he went away, but the frogs still cried, “aik, aik, aik, aik,” after him till he went home quite angry.After a while he bought another cow, which he killed, and he made the calculation that if he sold the meat well he might gain as much as the two cows were worth, and have the skin into the bargain. When therefore he got to the town with the meat, a great troop of dogs were gathered together in front of the gate, with a large greyhound at the head of them, which jumped at the meat, snuffed at it, and barked, “Wow, wow, wow.” As there was no stopping him, the peasant said to him, “Yes, yes, I know quite well that you are saying, ‘wow, wow, wow,’ because you want some of the meat; but I should fare badly if I were to give it to you.” The dog, however, answered nothing but “wow, wow.” “Will you promise not to devour it all then, and will you go bail for my companions?” “Wow, wow, wow,” said the dog. “Well, if you insist on it, I will leave it for you; I know you well, and know who is your master; but this I tell you, I must have my money in three days or else it will go ill with you; you must just bring it out to me.” Thereupon he unloaded the meat and turned back again, the dogs fell upon it and loudly barked, “wow, wow.”The countryman, who heard them from afar, said to himself, “Hark, now they all want some, but the big one is responsible to me for it.”When three days had passed, the countryman thought, “Tonight my money will be in my pocket,” and was quite delighted. But no one would come and pay it.“There is no trusting any one now,” said he; and at last he lost patience, and went into the town to the butcher and demanded his money. The butcher thought it was a joke, but the peasant said, “Jesting apart, I will have my money! Did not the great dog bring you the whole of the slaughtered cow three days ago?”Then the butcher grew angry, snatched a broomstick and drove him out. “Wait a while,” said the peasant, “there is still some justice in the world!” and went to the royal palace and begged for an audience. He was led before the King, who sat there with his daughter, and asked him what injury he had suffered. “Alas!” said he, “the frogs and the dogs have taken from me what is mine, and the butcher has paid me for it with the stick,” and he related at full length all that had happened. Thereupon the King’s daughter began to laugh heartily, and the King said to him, “I cannot give you justice in this, but you shall have my daughter to wife for it, in her whole life she has never yet laughed as she has just done at you, and I have promised her to him who could make her laugh. You may thank God for your good fortune!”“Oh,” answered the peasant, “I will not have her, I have a wife already, and she is one too many for me; when I go home, it is just as bad as if I had a wife standing in every corner.” Then the King grew angry, and said, “Thou art a boor.” “Ah, Lord King,” replied the peasant, “what can you expect from an ox, but beef?” “Stop,” answered the King, you shall have another reward. Be off now, but come back in three days, and then you shall have five hundred counted out in full.”When the peasant went out by the gate, the sentry said, “You have made the King’s daughter laugh, so you will certainly receive something good.”“Yes, that is what I think,” answered the peasant; “five hundred are to be counted out to me.” “Hark you,” said the soldier, “give me some of it. What can you do with all that money?” “As it is you,” said the peasant, “you shall have two hundred; present yourself in three days’ time before the King, and let it be paid to you.” A Jew, who was standing by and had heard the conversation, ran after the peasant, held him by the coat, and said, “Oh, wonder! What a lucky child you are! I will change it for thee, I will change it for your into small coins, what do you want with the great big coins?” “Jew,” said the countryman, “three hundred can you still have; give it to me at once in coin, in three days from this, thou wilt be paid for it by the King.” The Jew was delighted with the profit, and brought the sum in bad groschen, three of which were worth two good ones. After three days had passed, according to the King’s command, the peasant went before the King. “Pull his coat off,” said the latter, “and he shall have his five hundred.” “Ah!” said the peasant, “they no longer belong to me; I presented two hundred of them to the sentinel, and three hundred the Jew has changed for me, so by right nothing at all belongs to me.” In the meantime the soldier and the Jew entered and claimed what they had gained from the peasant, and they received the blows strictly counted out. The soldier bore it patiently and knew already how it tasted; but the Jew said sorrowfully, “Alas, alas, are these the heavy coins?” The King could not help laughing at the peasant, and as all his anger was gone, he said, “As you have already lost your reward before it fell to you, I will give thee something in the place of it. Go into my treasure chamber and get some money for yourself, as much as you will.” The peasant did not need to be told twice, and stuffed into his big pockets whatsoever would go in. Afterwards he went to an inn and counted over his money. The Jew had crept after him and heard how he muttered to himself, “That rogue of a king has cheated me after all, why could he not have given me the money himself, and then I should have known what I had? How can I tell now if what I have had the luck to put in my pockets is right or not?” “Good heavens!” said the Jew to himself, “that man is speaking disrespectfully of our lord the King, I will run and inform, and then I shall get a reward, and he will be punished as well.”When the King heard of the peasant’s words he fell into a passion, and commanded the Jew to go and bring the offender to him. The Jew ran to the peasant, “You are to go at once to the lord King in the very clothes you have on.” “I know what’s right better than that,” answered the peasant, “I shall have a new coat made first. Do you think that a man with so much money in his pocket is to go there in his ragged old coat?” The Jew, as he saw that the peasant would not stir without another coat, and as he feared that if the King’s anger cooled, he himself would lose his reward, and the peasant his punishment, said, “I will out of pure friendship lend you a coat for the short time. What will people not do for love!” The peasant was contented with this, put the Jew’s coat on, and went off with him.The King reproached the countryman because of the evil speaking of which the Jew had informed him. “Ah,” said the peasant, “what a Jew says is always false no true word ever comes out of his mouth! That rascal there is capable of maintaining that I have his coat on.”“What is that?” shrieked the Jew. “Is the coat not mine? Have I not lent it to you out of pure friendship, in order that you might appear before the lord King?” When the King heard that, he said, “The Jew has assuredly deceived one or the other of us, either myself or the peasant,” and again he ordered something to be counted out to him in hard coins. The peasant, however, went home in the good coat, with the good money in his pocket, and said to himself, “This time I have hit it!”
Long ago, in Aggo, a country where nobody lives nowadays, there were two large houses standing far apart. In each of these houses many families lived together. In the summer the people in the two houses went in company to hunt deer and had a good time together. When fall came they returned to their separate houses. The names of the houses were Quern and Exaluq.One summer it happened that the men from Quern had killed many deer, while those from Exaluq had caught but a few. The latter said to each other, “They are not fair; they shoot before we have a chance;” and they became very angry.“Let us kill them,” said one.“Yes, let us kill them, but let us wait till the end of the season, and then we can take all the game they have in their storehouse,” said the others. For the game was packed in snow and ice and was taken home on dog sledges when the hunting was over.When it came time to go home both parties agreed to go on a certain day to the storehouses and pack up the game ready to start early in the morning. This was the time for which the men of Exaluq had been waiting.They started off all together with their sledges, but when they got a long distance from the camp and very near to the storehouse, those from Exaluq suddenly fell upon the others and slew them, for the men from Quern had never suspected that there was any ill-feeling.Fearing that if the dogs went back to camp without their masters, the women and children would guess what had happened, they killed the dogs also. When they returned, they told the women that their husbands had separated from them and had gone off over a hill, and they did not know what had become of them.Now one of the young men had married a girl from Quern, and he went to her house that night as usual, and she received him kindly, for she believed what she had heard about the men of her party straying off. She and all the other women thought the men would soon find their way back, as they had hunted in these parts so long that they knew the land.But in the house was the girl’s little brother who had seen the husband come in; and after everybody was asleep he heard the spirits of the murdered men calling and he recognized their voices. They told him what had happened, and asked the boy to kill the young man in revenge for their deaths. So he crept from under the bed and thrust a knife into the young man’s breast.Then he awakened all the women and children in the great row of huts and told them that the spirits of the dead men had come to him and told of their murder, and had ordered him to avenge them by killing the young man.“Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do?” they cried. “They have killed our men and they will kill us!” They were terribly frightened.“We must fly from here before the men from Exaluq awaken and learn that the young man is slain in revenge,” said one of the old women.“But how can we fly? Our dogs are dead, and we cannot travel fast enough to escape.”“I will attend to that,” said the old woman. In her hut was a litter of pups, and as she was a conjurer, she said to them, “Grow up at once.” She had no fairy wand to wave over them, but she waved a stick, and after waving it once the dogs were half-grown. She waved it again, saying, “Be full-grown instantly;” and they were.They harnessed the dogs at once, and in order to deceive their enemies they left everything in the huts and even left their lights burning, so that when the men arose in the morning they would think that they, too, had arisen and were dressing.When it had come full daylight next morning the men of Exaluq wondered why the young man did not come back to them, and presently they went to find out. They peeked into the spy-hole of the window and saw the lamps burning, but no people inside the hut. They discovered the body of the dead man, and then when they looked they saw the tracks of sledges.They wondered very much how the women could have gone away on sledges, since they had no dogs, and they feared some other people had helped them to get off. They hastily harnessed their own dogs and started in pursuit of the fugitives.The women whipped their dogs and journeyed rapidly, but the pursuers had older and tougher animals and were likely to overtake them soon. They became very much frightened, fearing that they would all be killed in revenge for the death of the young man.When the sledge of the men drew near and the women and children saw that they could not escape, the boy who had slain the man said to the old woman:“The spirits of our murdered men are calling to us to cut the ice. Cannot you cut it?”“I think I can,” she answered, and she slowly drew her first finger across the path of the pursuers, muttering a magic charm as she did so.The ice gave a terrific crack, and the water came gushing through the crevasse. They sped on, and presently she drew another line with her finger, and another crack opened and the ice between the two cracks broke up and the floe began to move.The men, dashing ahead with all speed, could scarcely stop their dog team in time to escape falling into the open water. The floe was so wide and so long that it was impossible for them to cross, and thus the women and children were saved by the art of their conjurer.
On a lofty mountain in Serbia, surrounded by his flock, sat a humble shepherd. The valley beneath him was veiled by a thin white haze, through which he could just see the tips of the stately beeches, on which the frost had already laid his crimson touch. Only the contented munching of the sheep on the close-cropped grass, and the trilling sweetness of a lark’s song high up in the blue, broke the placid stillness of the scene.The shepherd stretched himself, yawning, and gazed at the sea and sky. He had nothing to do just then, and little to think of, for his life flowed on in an even course, and though he often wished that something would happen, he had never been disturbed. He was gazing dreamily at the cottage beyond the sheep-pens, where his wife was busy preparing his dinner, when he saw a dark form gliding stealthily through the grass towards a big bare rock. It was followed by another, and yet another. They were finely-marked serpents with glistening scales, and each bore in its mouth a curious root, with which it touched the rock. More serpents still approached, and did the same, until suddenly the great rock fell asunder, showing a long passage in the ground, into which the serpents glided, one by one. In his eagerness to see what they were after, the shepherd forgot his shuddering dislike of the venomous creatures, and pressed boldly into the rocky gallery.“Coiled upon the throne was an enormous serpent.” Illustration by Willy Pogany, published in Folk Tales from Many Lands by Lillian Gask (1910), Thomas Y. Crowell CompanySoon he found himself in a large grotto lit by the gleam of the many precious gems that lined its walls. In its centre stood a magnificent throne of gold, set with emeralds and sapphires, and coiled upon this was an enormous serpent with gleaming eyes. The other serpents gathered round in complete silence; as the shepherd gazed in open-mouthed wonder, the great reptile closed his eyes, and immediately all were asleep.The shepherd seized the opportunity to wander round the grotto, examining the jewels with which it was so richly encrusted, and wishing that he could carry away some in his pocket. Finding it impossible to detach them, he thought he had better depart before the serpents awoke, and so he made his way back through the long passage; but the entrance was closed, and he could not get out. Oddly enough, he felt no alarm, and, returning once more to the grotto, laid himself down beside the serpents and fell into a deep slumber.He was roused by the consciousness that the snakes were stirring. Opening his eyes, he saw that all were gazing with heads erect at their grim monarch.“Is it time, O King, is it time?” they cried.“It is time,” he answered after a long pause, and gliding down from his throne, led them through the grotto back to the rock. It opened as he touched it, and every serpent passed slowly out before him. The shepherd would have followed, but the Snake King barred his way with an angry hiss.“Let me through, I entreat you, O gracious King!” begged the shepherd. “I shall lose my flock if I leave it longer, and my wife will be waiting for me at home.”“You entered our sleeping-place without an invitation, and now you must stay,” replied the King; but the shepherd pleaded so earnestly for his release that he was moved to clemency.“I will let you go this time,” he said, “if you give me your solemn promise that you will reveal our hiding-place to no one.”The shepherd was quite ready to do this, and three times in succession he repeated after the Serpent King the words of a solemn oath. This done, he was allowed to pass out of the rock.The chestnut-trees in the fertile valleys were now a mass of star-white blossom, and the bleating of the lambs told him that spring had come. Greatly bewildered, he hurried towards his home, rather doubtful as to what reception his wife would give him. As he approached the cottage, he saw a stranger standing by the door, and stepped into the shadow of a bush that he might wait unseen until he had gone.“Is your husband at home?” inquired the man, as the shepherd’s wife, looking pale and thin, answered his loud knock.“Alas! no,” was her mournful reply. “I have not seen him since last autumn, when he left me to tend his flock on the mountain-side. I fear the wolves must have devoured him.” And covering her head with her apron, she burst into tears. Touched by her distress, the shepherd now came forward.IAM here, dear wife,” he told her joyfully. The woman immediately stopped her weeping, and, instead of bidding him welcome, began to scold with a frowning face.“Where have you been, you lazy fellow?” she demanded. “It was just like you to leave me to get through the winter as best I could. Answer me at once!”The shepherd could not do this without breaking his oath, and there was something so strange in his manner as he tried to parry her questions that the curiosity of the stranger was aroused.“Come, come, my good man,” he said, “tell your wife the truth, and I will reward you with a piece of gold. Where did you sleep through the winter nights, and what have you been doing?”“I slept in the sheep-pen,” began the shepherd, and the stranger burst into a scornful laugh.“You need not fancy we are foolish enough to believe that,” he said. “Out with it, man! We can see you are hiding something.”Thus pressed, the shepherd reluctantly confessed the existence of the grotto, and the stranger, who happened to be a magician in disguise, forced him not only to guide him thither, but to reveal the manner of entrance. A root that a serpent had discarded lay at their feet, and on touching the rock with this, it opened immediately, and let them through.The magician coveted the splendid jewels that lined the walls of the grotto as much as the shepherd had done, and conned through the book of spells that he drew from the folds of his garment to see if it would tell him how to gain possession of the rich store.“I have it!” he exclaimed. “I shall now be rich as the heart of man can desire, and you, good shepherd, shall share my wealth.”Replacing his book, he was about to set fire to a small pellet which he produced from his pocket, when he was interrupted by a terrible hiss. Unseen by the intruders, the King of the Serpents had followed in the form of a Green Dragon, and now reproached the shepherd with much violence for having broken his oath.His rage was so great that the shepherd thought his end had come.“Throw this over his head,” muttered the magician in his ear, handing him a rope.Despite the trembling of his hand, the shepherd made a cast which was successful, and as the loop encircled the neck of the King, the rock burst asunder with a loud report that echoed from hill to hill. The next moment the shepherd found himself flying through space on the back of the Green Dragon. Such was the speed at which the wings of the fiery creature clove the air that the rushing of the wind in his rider’s face was painful to endure.They went over mountains and over seas, over desert lands where sandstorms raged and vultures lay in wait for the fainting camels, until at last they came to a wide plain watered by many rivers. The Dragon flew higher and higher, until the shepherd grew dizzy and lost his breath. His eyes were closed, but in the blue sky above him he could hear the sweet clear notes of a soaring lark.“Dear bird,” he cried, “thou art precious to thy Master, Who made us all. Fly up to Him, I pray thee, and beg Him to send me help in my sorry plight.”The lark flew up to Heaven as he had bidden her, and returned with a green leaf from a tree in Paradise in her tiny beak. Gladly she dropped this on the Dragon’s head, and as it touched him he fell to the ground and became once more a crawling serpent.When the shepherd regained consciousness, he was on the mountain-side, with his flocks around him, and his faithful dog at his feet. The forest was still in its autumn glory of yellow and gold, and in the distance he could see his wife beckoning to him from his cottage door.“I must have been dreaming,” he said, as with thankful heart he went home to his dinner. He lived to a ripe old age in peace and quietness, and never again did he wish that something strange would happen.
In the Garden of Paradise, beneath the Tree of Knowledge, bloomed a rose bush. Here, in the first rose, a bird was born: his flight was like the flashing of light, his plumage was beauteous, and his song ravishing.But when Eve plucked the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, when she and Adam were driven from Paradise, there fell from the flaming sword of the cherub a spark into the nest of the bird, which blazed up forthwith. The bird perished in the flames; but from the red egg in the nest there fluttered aloft a new one—the one solitary Phœnix bird. The fable tells us that he dwells in Arabia, and that every year he burns himself to death in his nest; but each time a new Phœnix, the only one in the world, rises up from the red egg.The bird flutters round us, swift as light, beauteous in colour, charming in song. When a mother sits by her infant’s cradle, he stands on the pillow, and, with his wings, forms a glory around the infant’s head. He flies through the chamber of content, and brings sunshine into it, and the violets on the humble table smell doubly sweet.But the Phœnix is not the bird of Arabia alone. He wings his way in the glimmer of the northern lights over the plains of Lapland, and hops among the yellow flowers in the short Greenland summer. Beneath the copper mountains of Fablun, and England’s coal mines, he flies, in the shape of a dusty moth, over the hymn-book that rests on the knees of the pious miner. On a lotus leaf he floats down the sacred waters of the Ganges, and the eye of the Hindoo maid gleams bright when she beholds him.The Phœnix bird, dost thou not know him? The Bird of Paradise, the holy swan of song! On the car of Thespis he sat in the guise of a chattering raven, and flapped his black wings, smeared with the lees of wine; over the sounding harp of Iceland swept the swan’s red beak; on Shakespeare’s shoulder he sat in the guise of Odin’s raven, and whispered in the poet’s ear “Immortality!” and at the minstrels’ feast he fluttered through the halls of the Wartburg.The Phœnix bird, dost thou not know him? He sang to thee the Marseillaise, and thou kissedst the pen that fell from his wing; he came in the radiance of Paradise, and perchance thou didst turn away from him towards the sparrow who sat with tinsel on his wings.The Bird of Paradise—renewed each century—born in flame, ending in flame! Thy picture, in a golden frame, hangs in the halls of the rich; and thou thyself often fliest around, lonely and disregarded, a myth—”The Phœnix of Arabia.”In Paradise, when thou wert born in the first rose, beneath the Tree of Knowledge, thou receivedst a kiss, and thy right name was given thee—thy name, Poetry.
“I want to be something!” said the eldest of five brothers. “I want to do something in the world. I don’t care how humble my position may be in society, if I only effect some good, for that will really be something. I’ll make bricks, for they are quite indispensable things, and then I shall truly have done something.”“But that something will not be enough!” quoth the second brother. “What you intend doing is just as much as nothing at all. It is journeyman’s work, and can be done by a machine. No, I would rather be a bricklayer at once, for that is something real; and that’s what I will be. That brings rank; as a bricklayer one belongs to a guild, and is a citizen, and has one’s own flag and one’s own house of call. Yes, and if all goes well, I will keep journeymen. I shall become a master bricklayer, and my wife will be a master’s wife—that is what I call something.”“That’s nothing at all!” said the third. “That is beyond the pale of the guild, and there are many of those in a town that stand far above the mere master artizan. You may be an honest man; but as a ‘master’ you will after all only belong to those who are ranked among common men. I know something better than that. I will be an architect, and will thus enter into the territory of art and speculation. I shall be reckoned among those who stand high in point of intellect. I shall certainly have to serve up from the pickaxe, so to speak; so I must begin as a carpenter’s apprentice, and must go about as an assistant, in a cap, though I am accustomed to wear a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and spirits for the common journeymen, and they will call me ‘thou,’ and that is insulting! But I shall imagine to myself that the whole thing is only acting, and a kind of masquerade. To-morrow—that is to say, when I have served my time—I shall go my own way, and the others will be nothing to me. I shall go to the academy, and get instructions in drawing, and shall be called an architect. That’s something! I may get to be called ‘sir,’ and even ‘worshipful sir,’ or even get a handle at the front or at the back of my name, and shall go on building and building, just as those before me have built. That will always be a thing to remember, and that’s what I call something!”“But I don’t care at all for that something,” said the fourth. “I won’t sail in the wake of others, and be a copyist. I will be a genius; and will stand up greater than all the rest of you together. I shall be the creator of a new style, and will give the plan of a building suitable to the climate and the material of the country, for the nationality of the people, for the development of the age—and an additional storey for my own genius.”“But supposing the climate and the material are bad,” said the fifth, “that would be a disastrous circumstance, for these two exert a great influence! Nationality, moreover, may expand itself until it becomes affectation, and the development of the century may run wild with your work, as youth often runs wild. I quite realise the fact that none of you will be anything real, however much you may believe in yourselves. But, do what you like, I will not resemble you: I shall keep on the outside of things, and criticise whatever you produce. To every work there is attached something that is not right—something that has gone wrong; and I will ferret that out and find fault with it; and that will be doing something!”And he kept his word; and everybody said concerning this fifth brother, “There is certainly something in him; he has a good head; but he does nothing.” And by that very means they thought something of him!Now, you see, this is only a little story; but it will never end so long as the world lasts.But what became of the five brothers? Why, this is nothing, and not something.Listen, it is a capital story.The eldest brother, he who manufactured bricks, soon became aware of the fact that every brick, however small it might be, produced for him a little coin, though this coin was only copper; and many copper pennies laid one upon the other can be changed into a shining dollar; and wherever one knocks with such a dollar in one’s hand, whether at the baker’s, or the butcher’s, or the tailor’s—wherever it may be, the door flies open, and the visitor is welcomed, and gets what he wants. You see that is what comes of bricks. Some of those belonging to the eldest brother certainly crumbled away, or broke in two, but there was a use even for these.On the high rampart, the wall that kept out the sea, Margaret, the poor woman, wished to build herself a little house. All the faulty bricks were given to her, and a few perfect ones into the bargain, for the eldest brother was a good-natured man, though he certainly did not achieve anything beyond the manufacture of bricks. The poor woman put together the house for herself. It was little and narrow, and the single window was quite crooked. The door was too low, and the thatched roof might have shown better workmanship. But after all it was a shelter; and from the little house you could look far across the sea, whose waves broke vainly against the protecting rampart on which it was built. The salt billows spurted their spray over the whole house, which was still standing when he who had given the bricks for its erection had long been dead and buried.The second brother knew better how to build a wall, for he had served an apprenticeship to it. When he had served his time and passed his examination he packed his knapsack and sang the journeyman’s song:“While I am young I’ll wander, from place to place I’ll roam,And everywhere build houses, until I come back home;And youth will give me courage, and my true love won’t forget:Hurrah then for a workman’s life! I’ll be a master yet!”And he carried his idea into effect. When he had come home and become a master, he built one house after another in the town. He built a whole street; and when the street was finished and became an ornament to the place, the houses built a house for him in return, that was to be his own. But how can houses build a house? If you ask them they will not answer you, but people will understand what is meant by the expression, and say, ‘certainly, it was the street that built his house for him.’ It was little, and the floor was covered with clay; but when he danced with his bride upon this clay floor, it seemed to become polished oak; and from every stone in the wall sprang forth a flower, and the room was gay, as if with the costliest paper-hanger’s work. It was a pretty house, and in it lived a happy pair. The flag of the guild fluttered before the house, and the journeymen and apprentices shouted hurrah! Yes, he certainly was something! And at last he died; and that was something too.Now came the architect, the third brother, who had been at first a carpenter’s apprentice, had worn a cap, and served as an errand boy, but had afterwards gone to the academy, and risen to become an architect, and to be called “honoured sir.” Yes, if the houses of the street had built a house for the brother who had become a bricklayer, the street now received its name from the architect, and the handsomest house in it became his property. That was something, and he was something; and he had a long title before and after his name. His children were called genteel children, and when he died his widow was “a widow of rank,” and that is something!—and his name always remained at the corner of the street, and lived on in the mouth of every one as the street’s name—and that was something!Now came the genius of the family, the fourth brother, who wanted to invent something new and original, and an additional storey on the top of it for himself. But the top storey tumbled down, and he came tumbling down with it, and broke his neck. Nevertheless he had a splendid funeral, with guild flags and music; poems in the papers, and flowers strewn on the paving-stones in the street; and three funeral orations were held over him, each one longer than the last, which would have rejoiced him greatly, for he always liked it when people talked about him; a monument also was erected over his grave. It was only one storey high, but still it was something.Now he was dead like the three other brothers; but the last, the one who was a critic, outlived them all: and that was quite right, for by this means he got the last word, and it was of great importance to him to have the last word. The people always said he had a good head of his own. At last his hour came, and he died, and came to the gates of Paradise. There souls always enter two and two, and he came up with another soul that wanted to get into Paradise too; and who should this be but old dame Margaret from the house upon the sea wall.“I suppose this is done for the sake of contrast, that I and this wretched soul should arrive here at exactly the same time!” said the critic. “Pray who are you, my good woman?” he asked. “Do you want to get in here too?”And the old woman curtsied as well as she could: she thought it must be St. Peter himself talking to her.“I’m a poor old woman of a very humble family,” she replied. “I’m old Margaret that lived in the house on the sea wall.”“Well, and what have you done? what have you accomplished down there?”“I have really accomplished nothing at all in the world: nothing that I can plead to have the doors here opened to me. It would be a real mercy to allow me to slip in through the gate.”“In what manner did you leave the world?” asked he, just for the sake of saying something; for it was wearisome work standing there and saying nothing.“Why, I really don’t know how I left it. I was sick and miserable during my last years, and could not well bear creeping out of bed, and going out suddenly into the frost and cold. It was a hard winter, but I have got out of it all now. For a few days the weather was quite calm, but very cold, as your honour must very well know. The sea was covered with ice as far as one could look. All the people from the town walked out upon the ice, and I think they said there was a dance there, and skating. There was beautiful music and a great feast there too; the sound came into my poor little room, where I lay ill. And it was towards the evening; the moon had risen beautifully, but was not yet in its full splendour; I looked from my bed out over the wide sea, and far off, just where the sea and sky join, a strange white cloud came up. I lay looking at the cloud, and I saw a little black spot in the middle of it, that grew larger and larger; and now I knew what it meant, for I am old and experienced, though this token is not often seen. I knew it, and a shuddering came upon me. Twice in my life I have seen the same thing; and I knew there would be an awful tempest, and a spring flood, which would overwhelm the poor people who were now drinking and dancing and rejoicing—young and old, the whole city had issued forth—who was to warn them, if no one saw what was coming yonder, or knew, as I did, what it meant? I was dreadfully alarmed, and felt more lively than I had done for a long time. I crept out of bed, and got to the window, but could not crawl farther, I was so exhausted. But I managed to open the window. I saw the people outside running and jumping about on the ice; I could see the beautiful flags that waved in the wind. I heard the boys shouting ‘hurrah!’ and the servant men and maids singing. There were all kinds of merriment going on. But the white cloud with the black spot! I cried out as loud as I could, but no one heard me; I was too far from the people. Soon the storm would burst, and the ice would break, and all who were upon it would be lost without remedy. They could not hear me, and I could not come out to them. Oh, if I could only bring them ashore! Then kind Heaven inspired me with the thought of setting fire to my bed, and rather to let the house burn down, than that all those people should perish so miserably. I succeeded in lighting up a beacon for them. The red flame blazed up on high, and I escaped out of the door, but fell down exhausted on the threshold, and could get no farther. The flames rushed out towards me, flickered through the window, and rose high above the roof. All the people on the ice yonder beheld it, and ran as fast as they could, to give aid to a poor old woman who, they thought, was being burned to death. Not one remained behind. I heard them coming; but I also became aware of a rushing sound in the air; I heard a rumbling like the sound of heavy artillery; the spring-flood was lifting the covering of ice, which presently cracked and burst into a thousand fragments. But the people succeeded in reaching the sea-wall—I saved them all! But I fancy I could not bear the cold and the fright, and so I came up here to the gates of Paradise. I am told they are opened to poor creatures like me—and now I have no house left down upon the rampart: not that I think this will give me admission here.”Then the gates of heaven were opened, and the angel led the old woman in. She left a straw behind her, a straw that had been in her bed when she set it on fire to save the lives of many; and this straw had been changed into the purest gold—into gold that grew and grew, and spread out into beauteous leaves and flowers.“Look, this is what the poor woman brought,” said the angel to the critic. “What dost thou bring? I know that thou hast accomplished nothing—thou hast not made so much as a single brick. Ah, if thou couldst only return, and effect at least so much as that! Probably the brick, when thou hadst made it, would not be worth much; but if it were made with good-will, it would at least be something. But thou canst not go back, and I can do nothing for thee!”Then the poor soul, the old dame who had lived on the dyke, put in a petition for him. She said,“His brother gave me the bricks and the pieces out of which I built up my house, and that was a great deal for a poor woman like me. Could not all those bricks and pieces be counted as a single brick in his favour? It was an act of mercy. He wants it now; and is not this the very fountain of mercy?”Then the angel said:“Thy brother, him whom thou hast regarded as the least among you all, he whose honest industry seemed to thee as the most humble, hath given thee this heavenly gift. Thou shalt not be turned away. It shall be vouchsafed to thee to stand here without the gate, and to reflect, and repent of thy life down yonder; but thou shalt not be admitted until thou hast in real earnest accomplished something.”“I could have said that in better words!” thought the critic, but he did not find fault aloud; and for him, after all, that was “something!”
Aya, sweet maid, was the only child of a daimyo of the Province of Omi. Mother had she none, and her father was a noble lord and a warrior. He was at the Court of the Shogun, or he had weighty affairs at the capital, or he went here and there with armies and overcame his enemies. Aya saw little of him.Long years she dwelt with her nurse and her maidens within the walls of her father’s castle. High walls were they and well-guarded, and at their foot was a deep moat which was rosy with lotus flowers all the seventh month.When the Lady Aya was some sixteen years old her father the daimyo came home victorious from a foray, and she went with her maidens to meet him in the gate. She was dressed in her bravest, and as became her rank.“My lord and father,” she said, “sweet is your honourable return.”“Child, how you have grown!” her father said, astonished. “How old are you, Aya?”“Sixteen years old, lord,” she said.“By all the gods, you are become a little great young lady, and I thought you were a baby and brought you home a doll for a home-coming gift.”He laughed, but presently afterwards grew grave, and in deep thought he went into the castle.Soon after this he began to look about him, to find a fitting husband for his daughter.“Best it should be done now,” he said, “for a wonder has come to pass, and I am at peace with every daimyo in the land—and it will not last.”The Lord of Ako, in Harima, had three tall sons, fine young men and warriors all.“The eldest is over old,” said the Lord of Omi. “The youngest is a boy—but what of the middle brother? It seems to me that the middle brother should do well. They say that second thoughts are best,” said the Lord of Omi.So after messengers had come and gone, the Lady Aya was betrothed to the young Lord of Ako, and there was great rejoicing in all the country-side, for all the man and the maiden had never set eyes on one another.The Lady Aya was very glad when she saw the presents that came from her bridegroom’s house. She sat with the seamstress of the castle and fingered the soft stuffs of her fine new robes. For the rest, she played with her maidens the live-long day, or took her broidery frame, plying the needle and long silken thread. It was the month of May, and very often they took the air in a garden gallery, where Aya and her maids laughed together, and sometimes they spoke of the young Lord of Ako and how brave and beautiful he was, how skilful in art and in war, and how rich. When evening came they slipped down the gallery steps and into the garden, where they went hither and thither, hand in hand, to enjoy the cool air and the sweet scent of the flowers.One night the Lady Aya walked in the garden according to her wont. The moon rose, round and silver.“Ah me,” sighed one of the maidens, “the moon is a love-lorn lady. Look how pale and wan she goes, and even now she will hide her eyes with her long sleeve of cloud.”“You speak sooth,” returned Aya, “the moon is a love-lorn lady; but have you seen her faint sister who is sadder and fairer than she?”“Who, then, is the moon’s sister?” asked all the maidens at once.Aya said, “Come and see—come.”With that she drew them along the paths of the garden to the still pond, where were the dancing fireflies and the frogs that sang musically. Holding each other’s hands, the maidens looked down into the water, and one and all they beheld the moon’s sister, and they laughed softly together. While they played by the water’s brim, the Lady Aya’s foot slipped upon a smooth stone, and most assuredly she would have fallen into the pond. But all of a sudden a youth leapt forward out of the sweet secrecy of the night, and caught her in his arms. For a moment all the maidens beheld the glimmer of his garments. Then he was gone. Aya stood alone, trembling. Down gazed the moon, wide-eyed and sorrowful; and still more sorrowful and sweet, upwards gazed the moon’s pale sister. They saw a band of silent maidens who stood in a wilderness of blossoming peony flowers, that grew to the water’s edge. It was the Lady Aya who loved them and had them planted so.Now the lady turned without a word and moved along the paths of the garden very slowly, hanging her head. When she came to the garden gallery she left all her maidens save one, and went silently to her bower.There she was for a long space, saying nothing. She sat and traced the pattern on her robe with the point of her finger. And Sada, her maiden, was over against her.At length, “He was a great lord,” said Aya.“Truth, lady.”“He was young.”“He was passing well-favoured.”“Alas! he saved my life, and I had not time to thank him.”“The moon shone upon the jewelled mounting of his sword.”“And his robe that was broidered with peony flowers—my peony flowers.”“Lady, the hour grows very late.”“Well, then, untie my girdle.”“You look pale, lady.”“Small marvel, I am weary.”“Lady, what of the young Lord of Ako?”“What of him? Why, I have not seen him. Enough, let be—no more of him. Alas! I am drowsy, I know not what I say.”After this night the Lady Aya, that had been so fresh and fair and dancing gay as a wave of the sea, fell into a pale melancholy. By day she sighed, and by night she wept. She smiled no more as she beheld her rich wedding-garments, and she would not play any more with her maidens upon the garden gallery. She wandered like a shadow, or lay speechless in her bower. And all the wise men and all the wise women of that country-side were not able to heal her of her sickness.Then the maid Sada, weeping and hiding her face with her sleeve, went to the Lord of the House and told him of the moonlight adventure and the fair youth of the peony bed.“Ah me,” she said, “my sweet mistress pines and dies for the love of this beautiful young man.”“Child,” said the daimyo, “how you talk! My daughter’s garden is well guarded by walls and by men-at-arms. It is not possible that any stranger should enter it. What, then, is this tale of the moon and a samurai in peony garments and all manner of other foolishness, and how will such a tale sound in the ears of the Lord of Ako?”But Sada wept and said, “My mistress will die.”“To fight in the field, to flatter at Court and to speak in Council, all these are easy,” said the daimyo, “but preserve me from the affairs of my women, for they are too hard for me.”With that he made a search of all the castle and the castle grounds, but not a trace did he find of any stranger in hiding.That night the Lady Aya called piteously for the cooler air, so they bore her out on to her garden gallery, where she lay in O Sada’s arms. A minstrel of the household took his biwa, and to soothe her he made this song:“Music of my lute— Is it born, does it die, Is it truth or a lie? Whence, whence and where, Enchanted air? Music of my lute Is mute.“Sweet scents in the night— Do they float, do they seem, Are they essence of dream, Or thus are they said The thoughts of the Dead? Sweet scents in the night Delight.”Now, while the minstrel sang and touched his instrument, a fair youth stood up from the rosy sea of peonies by the pond. All there saw him clearly, his bright eyes, his sword, and his dress broidered with flowers. The Lady Aya gave a wild cry and ran to the edge of the garden gallery, holding out her white arms. And immediately the vision passed away. But the minstrel took up his biwa once more and sang:“Love more strange than death— Is it longer than life, Is it hotter than strife? Strong, strong and blind, Transcending kind— Love more strange than death Or breath.”At this the mysterious knight of the flowers stood once again straight and tall, and his shining eyes were fixed upon the Lady Aya.Then a gentleman of the company of the daimyo, who was a mighty man of war, drew his sword forthwith and leapt down amongst the peonies to do battle with the bold stranger that so gazed upon his master’s daughter. And at that a cloud drew across the moon’s face as if by faery, and of a sudden a great hot wind blew from the south. The lights died upon the garden gallery, the maidens held their garments together while their long gossamer sleeves floated out. All the peony bed was tossed about like a troubled sea, and the pink and white petals flew like foam. A mist, damp and over-sweet, hung upon the wind, so that all who were there grew faint and clung to one another, trembling.When they were recovered, they found the night still and the moon undimmed. The soldier of the daimyo’s company stood panting and white as death at the steps of the garden gallery. In his right hand he held his unstained sword, in his left a perfect peony flower.“I have him,” he shouted; “he could not escape me. I have him fast.”Aya said, “Give me the flower”; and he gave it her without a word, as one in a dream.Then Aya went to her bower and slept with the peony upon her breast and was satisfied.For nine days she kept the flower. The sweet colour came to her face, and the light to her eyes. She was perfectly healed of her sickness.She set the peony in a bronze vase and it did not droop or fade, but grew larger and more lovely all the nine days.At the end of this time the young Lord of Ako came riding in great pomp and state to claim his long-promised lady. So he and the Lady Aya were wed in the midst of much feasting and rejoicing. Howbeit, they say she made but a pale bride. And the same day the peony withered and was thrown away.
The Golden Beetle or Why the Dog Hates the CatWhat we shall eat to-morrow, I haven’t the slightest idea!” said Widow Wang to her eldest son, as he started out one morning in search of work.“Oh, the gods will provide. I’ll find a few coppers somewhere,” replied the boy, trying to speak cheerfully, although in his heart he also had not the slightest idea in which direction to turn.The winter had been a hard one: extreme cold, deep snow, and violent winds. The Wang house had suffered greatly. The roof had fallen in, weighed down by heavy snow. Then a hurricane had blown a wall over, and Ming-li, the son, up all night and exposed to a bitter cold wind, had caught pneumonia. Long days of illness followed, with the spending of extra money for medicine. All their scant savings had soon melted away, and at the shop where Ming-li had been employed his place was filled by another. When at last he arose from his sick-bed he was too weak for hard labour and there seemed to be no work in the neighbouring villages for him to do. Night after night he came home, trying not to be discouraged, but in his heart feeling the deep pangs of sorrow that come to the good son who sees his mother suffering for want of food and clothing.“Bless his good heart!” said the poor widow after he had gone. “No mother ever had a better boy. I hope he is right in saying the gods will provide. It has been getting so much worse these past few weeks that it seems now as if my stomach were as empty as a rich man’s brain. Why, even the rats have deserted our cottage, and there’s nothing left for poor Tabby, while old Blackfoot is nearly dead from starvation.”When the old woman referred to the sorrows of her pets, her remarks were answered by a pitiful mewing and woebegone barking from the corner where the two unfed creatures were curled up together trying to keep warm.Just then there was a loud knocking at the gate. When the widow Wang called out, “Come in!” she was surprised to see an old bald-headed priest standing in the doorway. “Sorry, but we have nothing,” she went on, feeling sure the visitor had come in search of food. “We have fed on scraps these two weeks—on scraps and scrapings—and now we are living on the memories of what we used to have when my son’s father was living. Our cat was so fat she couldn’t climb to the roof. Now look at her. You can hardly see her, she’s so thin. No, I’m sorry we can’t help you, friend priest, but you see how it is.”“I didn’t come for alms,” cried the clean-shaven one, looking at her kindly, “but only to see what I could do to help you. The gods have listened long to the prayers of your devoted son. They honour him because he has not waited till you die to do sacrifice for you. They have seen how faithfully he has served you ever since his illness, and now, when he is worn out and unable to work, they are resolved to reward him for his virtue. You likewise have been a good mother and shall receive the gift I am now bringing.”“What do you mean?” faltered Mrs. Wang, hardly believing her ears at hearing a priest speak of bestowing mercies. “Have you come here to laugh at our misfortunes?”“By no means. Here in my hand I hold a tiny golden beetle which you will find has a magic power greater than any you ever dreamed of. I will leave this precious thing with you, a present from the god of filial conduct.”“Yes, it will sell for a good sum,” murmured the other, looking closely at the trinket, “and will give us millet for several days. Thanks, good priest, for your kindness.”“But you must by no means sell this golden beetle, for it has the power to fill your stomachs as long as you live.”The widow stared in open-mouthed wonder at the priest’s surprising words.“Yes, you must not doubt me, but listen carefully to what I tell you. Whenever you wish food, you have only to place this ornament in a kettle of boiling water, saying over and over again the names of what you want to eat. In three minutes take off the lid, and there will be your dinner, smoking hot, and cooked more perfectly than any food you have ever eaten.”“May I try it now?” she asked eagerly.“As soon as I am gone.”When the door was shut, the old woman hurriedly kindled a fire, boiled some water, and then dropped in the golden beetle, repeating these words again and again:“Dumplings, dumplings, come to me,I am thin as thin can be.Dumplings, dumplings, smoking hot,Dumplings, dumplings, fill the pot.”Would those three minutes never pass? Could the priest have told the truth? Her old head was nearly wild with excitement as clouds of steam rose from the kettle. Off came the lid! She could wait no longer. Wonder of wonders! There before her unbelieving eyes was a pot, full to the brim of pork dumplings, dancing up and down in the bubbling water, the best, the most delicious dumplings she had ever tasted. She ate and ate till there was no room left in her greedy stomach, and then she feasted the cat and the dog until they were ready to burst.“Good fortune has come at last,” whispered Blackfoot, the dog, to Whitehead, the cat, as they lay down to sun themselves outside. “I fear I couldn’t have held out another week without running away to look for food. I don’t know just what’s happened, but there’s no use questioning the gods.”Mrs. Wang fairly danced for joy at the thought of her son’s return and of how she would feast him.“Poor boy, how surprised he will be at our fortune—and it’s all on account of his goodness to his old mother.”When Ming-li came, with a dark cloud overhanging his brow, the widow saw plainly that disappointment was written there.“Come, come, lad!” she cried cheerily, “clear up your face and smile, for the gods have been good to us and I shall soon show you how richly your devotion has been rewarded.” So saying, she dropped the golden beetle into the boiling water and stirred up the fire.Thinking his mother had gone stark mad for want of food, Ming-li stared solemnly at her. Anything was preferable to this misery. Should he sell his last outer garment for a few pennies and buy millet for her? Blackfoot licked his hand comfortingly, as if to say, “Cheer up, master, fortune has turned in our favour.” Whitehead leaped upon a bench, purring like a sawmill.Ming-li did not have long to wait. Almost in the twinkling of an eye he heard his mother crying out,“Sit down at the table, son, and eat these dumplings while they are smoking hot.”Could he have heard correctly? Did his ears deceive him? No, there on the table was a huge platter full of the delicious pork dumplings he liked better than anything else in all the world, except, of course, his mother.“Eat and ask no questions,” counselled the Widow Wang. “When you are satisfied I will tell you everything.”Wise advice! Very soon the young man’s chopsticks were twinkling like a little star in the verses. He ate long and happily, while his good mother watched him, her heart overflowing with joy at seeing him at last able to satisfy his hunger. But still the old woman could hardly wait for him to finish, she was so anxious to tell him her wonderful secret.“Here, son!” she cried at last, as he began to pause between mouthfuls, “look at my treasure!” And she held out to him the golden beetle.“First tell me what good fairy of a rich man has been filling our hands with silver?”“That’s just what I am trying to tell you,” she laughed, “for there was a fairy here this afternoon sure enough, only he was dressed like a bald priest. That golden beetle is all he gave me, but with it comes a secret worth thousands of cash to us.”The youth fingered the trinket idly, still doubting his senses, and waiting impatiently for the secret of his delicious dinner. “But, mother, what has this brass bauble to do with the dumplings, these wonderful pork dumplings, the finest I ever ate?”“Baubles indeed! Brass! Fie, fie, my boy! You little know what you are saying. Only listen and you shall hear a tale that will open your eyes.”She then told him what had happened, and ended by setting all of the left-over dumplings upon the floor for Blackfoot and Whitehead, a thing her son had never seen her do before, for they had been miserably poor and had had to save every scrap for the next meal.Now began a long period of perfect happiness. Mother, son, dog and cat—all enjoyed themselves to their hearts’ content. All manner of new foods such as they had never tasted were called forth from the pot by the wonderful little beetle. Bird-nest soup, shark’s fins, and a hundred other delicacies were theirs for the asking, and soon Ming-li regained all his strength, but, I fear, at the same time grew somewhat lazy, for it was no longer necessary for him to work. As for the two animals, they became fat and sleek and their hair grew long and glossy.‘HERE SON!’ SHE CRIED, ‘HAVE A LOOK AT MY TREASURE!’But alas! according to a Chinese proverb, pride invites sorrow. The little family became so proud of their good fortune that they began to ask friends and relatives to dinner that they might show off their good meals. One day a Mr. and Mrs. Chu came from a distant village. They were much astonished at seeing the high style in which the Wangs lived. They had expected a beggar’s meal, but went away with full stomachs.“It’s the best stuff I ever ate,” said Mr. Chu, as they entered their own tumble-down house.“Yes, and I know where it came from,” exclaimed his wife. “I saw Widow Wang take a little gold ornament out of the pot and hide it in a cupboard. It must be some sort of charm, for I heard her mumbling to herself about pork and dumplings just as she was stirring up the fire.”“A charm, eh? Why is it that other people have all the luck? It looks as if we were doomed forever to be poor.”“Why not borrow Mrs. Wang’s charm for a few days until we can pick up a little flesh to keep our bones from clattering? Turn about’s fair play. Of course, we’ll return it sooner or later.”“Doubtless they keep very close watch over it. When would you find them away from home, now that they don’t have to work any more? As their house only contains one room, and that no bigger than ours, it would be difficult to borrow this golden trinket. It is harder, for more reasons than one, to steal from a beggar than from a king.”“Luck is surely with us,” cried Mrs. Chu, clapping her hands. “They are going this very day to the Temple fair. I overheard Mrs. Wang tell her son that he must not forget he was to take her about the middle of the afternoon. I will slip back then and borrow the little charm from the box in which she hid it.”“Aren’t you afraid of Blackfoot?”“Pooh! he’s so fat he can do nothing but roll. If the widow comes back suddenly, I’ll tell her I came to look for my big hair-pin, that I lost it while I was at dinner.”“All right, go ahead, only of course we must remember we’re borrowing the thing, not stealing it, for the Wangs have always been good friends to us, and then, too, we have just dined with them.”So skilfully did this crafty woman carry out her plans that within an hour she was back in her own house, gleefully showing the priest’s charm to her husband. Not a soul had seen her enter the Wang house. The dog had made no noise, and the cat had only blinked her surprise at seeing a stranger and had gone to sleep again on the floor.Great was the clamour and weeping when, on returning from the fair in expectation of a hot supper, the widow found her treasure missing. It was long before she could grasp the truth. She went back to the little box in the cupboard ten times before she could believe it was empty, and the room looked as if a cyclone had struck it, so long and carefully did the two unfortunates hunt for the lost beetle.Then came days of hunger which were all the harder to bear since the recent period of good food and plenty. Oh, if they had only not got used to such dainties! How hard it was to go back to scraps and scrapings!But if the widow and her son were sad over the loss of the good meals, the two pets were even more so. They were reduced to beggary and had to go forth daily upon the streets in search of stray bones and refuse that decent dogs and cats turned up their noses at.One day, after this period of starvation had been going on for some time, Whitehead began suddenly to frisk about in great excitement.“Whatever is the matter with you?” growled Blackfoot. “Are you mad from hunger, or have you caught another flea?”“I was just thinking over our affairs, and now I know the cause of all our trouble.”“Do you indeed?” sneered Blackfoot.“Yes, I do indeed, and you’d better think twice before you mock me, for I hold your future in my paw, as you will very soon see.”“Well, you needn’t get angry about nothing. What wonderful discovery have you made—that every rat has one tail?”“First of all, are you willing to help me bring good fortune back to our family?”“Of course I am. Don’t be silly,” barked the dog, wagging his tail joyfully at the thought of another good dinner. “Surely! surely! I will do anything you like if it will bring Dame Fortune back again.”“All right. Here is the plan. There has been a thief in the house who has stolen our mistress’s golden beetle. You remember all our big dinners that came from the pot? Well, every day I saw our mistress take a little golden beetle out of the black box and put it into the pot. One day she held it up before me, saying, ‘Look, puss, there is the cause of all our happiness. Don’t you wish it was yours?’ Then she laughed and put it back into the box that stays in the cupboard.”“Is that true?” questioned Blackfoot. “Why didn’t you say something about it before?”“You remember the day Mr. and Mrs. Chu were here, and how Mrs. Chu returned in the afternoon after master and mistress had gone to the fair? I saw her, out of the tail of my eye, go to that very black box and take out the golden beetle. I thought it curious, but never dreamed she was a thief. Alas! I was wrong! She took the beetle, and if I am not mistaken, she and her husband are now enjoying the feasts that belong to us.”“Let’s claw them,” growled Blackfoot, gnashing his teeth.“That would do no good,” counselled the other, “for they would be sure to come out best in the end. We want the beetle back—that’s the main thing. We’ll leave revenge to human beings; it is none of our business.”“What do you suggest?” said Blackfoot. “I am with you through thick and thin.”“Let’s go to the Chu house and make off with the beetle.”“Alas, that I am not a cat!” moaned Blackfoot. “If we go there I couldn’t get inside, for robbers always keep their gates well locked. If I were like you I could scale the wall. It is the first time in all my life I ever envied a cat.”“We will go together,” continued Whitehead. “I will ride on your back when we are fording the river, and you can protect me from strange animals. When we get to the Chu house, I will climb over the wall and manage the rest of the business myself. Only you must wait outside to help me to get home with the prize.”No sooner arranged than done. The companions set out that very night on their adventure. They crossed the river as the cat had suggested, and Blackfoot really enjoyed the swim, for, as he said, it took him back to his puppyhood, while the cat did not get a single drop of water on her face. It was midnight when they reached the Chu house.“Just wait till I return,” purred Whitehead in Blackfoot’s ear.With a mighty spring she reached the top of the mud wall, and then jumped down to the inside court. While she was resting in the shadow, trying to decide just how to go about her work, a slight rustling attracted her attention, and pop! one giant spring, one stretch-out of the claws, and she had caught a rat that had just come out of his hole for a drink and a midnight walk.Now, Whitehead was so hungry that she would have made short work of this tempting prey if the rat had not opened its mouth and, to her amazement, begun to talk in good cat dialect.“Pray, good puss, not so fast with your sharp teeth! Kindly be careful with your claws! Don’t you know it is the custom now to put prisoners on their honor? I will promise not to run away.”“Pooh! what honor has a rat?”“Most of us haven’t much, I grant you, but my family was brought up under the roof of Confucius, and there we picked up so many crumbs of wisdom that we are exceptions to the rule. If you will spare me, I will obey you for life, in fact, will be your humble slave.” Then, with a quick jerk, freeing itself, “See, I am loose now, but honor holds me as if I were tied, and so I make no further attempt to get away.”“Much good it would do you,” purred Whitehead, her fur crackling noisily, and her mouth watering for a taste of rat steak. “However, I am quite willing to put you to the test. First, answer a few polite questions and I will see if you’re a truthful fellow. What kind of food is your master eating now, that you should be so round and plump when I am thin and scrawny?”“Oh, we have been in luck lately, I can tell you. Master and mistress feed on the fat of the land, and of course we hangers-on get the crumbs.”“But this is a poor tumble-down house. How can they afford such eating?”“That is a great secret, but as I am in honour bound to tell you, here goes. My mistress has just obtained in some manner or other, a fairy’s charm——”“She stole it from our place,” hissed the cat, “I will claw her eyes out if I get the chance. Why, we’ve been fairly starving for want of that beetle. She stole it from us just after she had been an invited guest! What do you think of that for honour, Sir Rat? Were your mistress’s ancestors followers of the sage?”“Oh, oh, oh! Why, that explains everything!” wailed the rat. “I have often wondered how they got the golden beetle, and yet of course I dared not ask any questions.”“No, certainly not! But hark you, friend rat—you get that golden trinket back for me, and I will set you free at once of all obligations. Do you know where she hides it?”“Yes, in a crevice where the wall is broken. I will bring it to you in a jiffy, but how shall we exist when our charm is gone? There will be a season of scanty food, I fear; beggars’ fare for all of us.”“Live on the memory of your good deed,” purred the cat. “It is splendid, you know, to be an honest beggar. Now scoot! I trust you completely, since your people lived in the home of Confucius. I will wait here for your return. Ah!” laughed Whitehead to herself, “luck seems to be coming our way again!”Five minutes later the rat appeared, bearing the trinket in its mouth. It passed the beetle over to the cat, and then with a whisk was off for ever. Its honour was safe, but it was afraid of Whitehead. It had seen the gleam of desire in her green eyes, and the cat might have broken her word if she had not been so anxious to get back home where her mistress could command the wonderful kettle once more to bring forth food.The two adventurers reached the river just as the sun was rising above the eastern hills.“Be careful,” cautioned Blackfoot, as the cat leaped upon his back for her ride across the stream, “be careful not to forget the treasure. In short, remember that even though you are a female, it is necessary to keep your mouth closed till we reach the other side.”“Thanks, but I don’t think I need your advice,” replied Whitehead, picking up the beetle and leaping on to the dog’s back.But alas! just as they were nearing the farther shore, the excited cat forgot her wisdom for a moment. A fish suddenly leaped out of the water directly under her nose. It was too great a temptation. Snap! went her jaws in a vain effort to land the scaly treasure, and the golden beetle sank to the bottom of the river.“There!” said the dog angrily, “what did I tell you? Now all our trouble has been in vain—all on account of your stupidity.”For a time there was a bitter dispute, and the companions called each other some very bad names—such as turtle and rabbit. Just as they were starting away from the river, disappointed and discouraged, a friendly frog who had by chance heard their conversation offered to fetch the treasure from the bottom of the stream. No sooner said than done, and after thanking this accommodating animal profusely, they turned homeward once more.When they reached the cottage, the door was shut, and, bark as he would, Blackfoot could not persuade his master to open it. There was the sound of loud wailing inside.“Mistress is broken-hearted,” whispered the cat, “I will go to her and make her happy.”So saying, she sprang lightly through a hole in the paper window, which, alas! was too small and too far from the ground for the faithful dog to enter.A sad sight greeted the gaze of Whitehead. The son was lying on the bed unconscious, almost dead for want of food, while his mother, in despair, was rocking backwards and forwards wringing her wrinkled hands and crying at the top of her voice for some one to come and save them.“Here I am, mistress,” cried Whitehead, “and here is the treasure you are weeping for. I have rescued it and brought it back to you.”The widow, wild with joy at sight of the beetle, seized the cat in her scrawny arms and hugged the pet tightly to her bosom.“Breakfast, son, breakfast! Wake up from your swoon! Fortune has come again. We are saved from starvation!”Soon a steaming hot meal was ready, and you may well imagine how the old woman and her son, heaping praises upon Whitehead, filled the beast’s platter with good things, but never a word did they say of the faithful dog, who remained outside sniffing the fragrant odours and waiting in sad wonder, for all this time the artful cat had said nothing of Blackfoot’s part in the rescue of the golden beetle.At last, when breakfast was over, slipping away from the others, Whitehead jumped out through the hole in the window.“Oh, my dear Blackfoot,” she began laughingly, “you should have been inside to see what a feast they gave me! Mistress was so delighted at my bringing back her treasure that she could not give me enough to eat, nor say enough kind things about me. Too bad, old fellow, that you are hungry. You’d better run out into the street and hunt up a bone.”Maddened by the shameful treachery of his companion, the enraged dog sprang upon the cat and in a few seconds had shaken her to death.“So dies the one who forgets a friend and who loses honour,” he cried sadly, as he stood over the body of his companion.Rushing out into the street, he proclaimed the treachery of Whitehead to the members of his tribe, at the same time advising that all self-respecting dogs should from that time onwards make war upon the feline race.And that is why the descendants of old Blackfoot, whether in China or in the great countries of the West, have waged continual war upon the children and grandchildren of Whitehead, for a thousand generations of dogs have fought them and hated them with a great and lasting hatred.
Long ago in a certain city in Spain there lived a youth who had no fondness what-ever for work, but a very great fondness for getting into debt. The foolish lad had used up his entire inheritance. There was nothing left with which to pay the pile of debts which he swiftly accumulated.One day a stranger appeared at his door, who offered to settle all his debts on condition that the young man should do a day’s work for him. The youth gratefully accepted the offer, for he thought that he could at least manage one day’s work, no matter how hard it was.“Be ready at five o’clock, tomorrow morning,” said the stranger, as he paid the debts.The next morning the youth found the stranger at his door promptly at five o’clock in the morning. He was mounted on a fine black horse, and he had with him an extra bay horse upon which the boy was to ride. They rode on rapidly up hill and down, through fertile valley lands, and over narrow wood-land trails, until at last they reached the sea.Then the stranger, who was riding ahead, turned to the boy and said, ” Far out in the sea there is acastle lined with gold and silver. You are to accompany me there to aid me in filling some sacks to carry home. Come on!”The youth looked fearfully at the angry waves. “Very well, Senor,” he replied, “you ride ahead, please.”“Soon a great castle upon high rocks rose before them.” Illustration by Maud and Miska Petersham. Published Tales of Enchantment from Spain (1920). Harcourt, Brace and Company.The stranger spurred the fine black horse into the raging sea, and there was nothing for the frightened youth to do except to follow upon the bay horse. The horses swam rapidly through the waves, and soon a great castle upon high rocks rose before them.When they had climbed out of the water upon the rocks, the stranger said: “It is your task to enter the castle and fill these two sacks, one with gold and the other with silver. As soon as you fill them throw them down to me.”The youth looked up at the high castle which frowned down at them from the summit of the steep rocks. “I don’t see any way to get into the castle,” he said.Then the stranger took a little book out of one of his pockets and opened it. The youth felt himself suddenly rising from the ground. He screamed with fright as he slowly rose to the top of the rock, and then to a little window high up in the castle wall. He crawled into the window and filled the two bags,one with gold, and the other with silver. He was amazed at the enormous piles of silver and gold which the castle contained.He threw the bags out of the window and prepared to descend; but to his surprise, the stranger loaded the two bags upon the bay horse, seated himself upon the black horse, and rode rapidly out to sea upon its back, leading the bay horse after him. The youth shouted in vain. The man never turned his head to give him even a glance.The poor boy was in despair. ” What shall I ever do!” he cried. ” Here I am stranded upon this rock in the midst of the sea! There is nothing to eat or drink in this castle, nothing but silver and gold! What shall I do! O foolish boy that I was, ever to allow myself to get into a situation like this!”He wandered through the castle, but saw nothing anywhere except the great piles of silver and of gold.“O mother of my soul!” he cried. “It is my fate to die here in this deserted spot, surrounded on all sides by the angry waves! I cannot eat gold and drink silver.”His hunger grew as time passed and his thirst was even harder to endure than the hunger. At last he noticed a damp spot on one of the castle walls. “Perhaps I may be so fortunate as to find a spring of water,” said he, as he eagerly began digging with his hands.He dug and dug for a long time until he was weak and faint. He found no water. All he discovered was a rat in the wall. He rested and then went on digging, and at last he came to a heavy door.He opened the door anxiously, for he did not know what might lie behind it. What he saw was a narrow stone stairway leading down into the depths of the earth.The boy committed his soul both to the angels and to the devils, and descended the stairway. At the footof the stairs he found another door. It opened into a great hall. To his joy there was a fountain of water in the middle of the room. At the side of the fountain there was a table laden with rich foods.The first thing he did was to drink some of the water of the fountain. Then he began to taste the food.“I may die, but I will at least die with a full stomach,” he remarked. ” What will happen next the good God alone knows.”At the end of the meal the youth wandered about the great hall. Then he opened the door into the kitchen. There in the kitchen stood an old negress. She was very old, and very fat, and very black. She dropped the plate in her hands when she saw the boy, she was so amazed at his presence.“Poor lad! What cruel person wished such evil upon you as to lead you to this place?” she cried.The boy told her the whole story. She nodded thoughtfully.“Your punishment is greater than you deserve,” said she. ” But if you are a quiet and obedient lad, you may live on here in the castle. You will see no one except me.”The youth spent many days in the castle. There was at least plenty to eat and drink, but it was very lonely. Sometimes he would climb up the stairway to the upper tower of the castle and look out of the little window, high up in the tower. He would gaze and gaze at the raging sea as it dashed angrily upon the rocks, and long for his old life back in the land which lay far beyond the waves.He often questioned the old woman in the kitchen, and at last he found out that there was a secret door in the castle wall which led to the dungeon where a beautiful princess was confined.“You can never locate the door,” said the old negress.” And even if you found it you could never reach the princess. You would have to pass two fierce lions, and constantly revolving millstones, and a deadly serpent. The lions would tear you into pieces. If you escaped them the millstones would grind you into powder. If you escaped the mill-stones the serpent would coil itself about you and fill your veins with poison. It is quite impossible to reach the princess.”The youth thought of nothing except the imprisoned princess. “I found the door which led me to food and drink,” said he. “Why may I not find the door which leads to the beautiful captive princess? I should at least like to peep through the door?”One day a rat ran across the floor and quickly disappeared in a crack in the wall. The youth began to dig farther into the crack, and at length he discovered the door. He rested that night, though he was so excited he could not sleep a wink. The moment it was light he started to dig again, and soon he had freed the door so that it would swing open. He quickly unfastened the bolt and pushed it wide.The two lions, which crouched ready to spring upon him, were larger and fiercer even than he had expected. He quickly pulled off his jacket and tossed it to them. Both the lions sprang upon the jacket and fought to obtain possession of it. The youth ran past them and through the door they guarded.The heavy millstones were revolving violently and did not stop their revolutions a single instant. Theboy threw his shirt at them. The mill wheels became clogged and he ran quickly past.Before him there appeared a huge serpent. It hissed at him angrily. Quickly he tossed his shoe to it, and the serpent’s deadly fangs were embedded in the shoe. The boy escaped past it and through the door it guarded. He had no jacket or shirt and there was a shoe on only one foot, but he was safe.He found himself in a room lined with gleaming gold. It was adorned with pearls and diamonds and precious stones from every part of the earth. Upon a richly carved couch lay the most beautiful maiden in the world. There was a sweet smile upon her lips, but she was fast asleep. Slowly she opened her beautiful dark eyes. They smiled into the boy’s.“Thank you for coming to awaken me,” she said.” I should have slept for a thousand years if you hadnot come. I am sorry I cannot stay with you. I’ll give you this so that I shall be able to recognize you again.” With these words she gave the youth a dainty handkerchief of sheerest linen. In the corner of the handkerchief there was a coronet embroidered with skilful stitchery.Suddenly the beautiful princess, the richly carved couch, the room lined with gold, with ornaments of pearls and diamonds and precious stones from every part of the earth, the mysterious castle, the high rocks in the midst of the waves, all disappeared. There was not a trace of them left. The boy found himself standing by the seashore in a certain town in Spain which he well knew. He was holding in his hand a dainty handkerchief with a coronet embroidered in the corner.The youth could think of nothing except the beautiful dark eyes of the enchanted princess and her sweet smile. He sought for her in every city, in every land. He despaired of ever seeing her again, but hetreasured the handkerchief carefully. At last he returned to his own city. He had been everywhere else in his search for the princess, but he had not yet visited again the familiar scenes of his boyhood. He decided to remain there for a time and then once more renew his search. He knew that he could never rest in peace until he had once more looked into the beautiful dark eyes of the enchanted princess.As he approached his own city, he saw that it was decked in gala attire. There were banners and flowers everywhere.“What feast is this?” he asked the first man he met.“Why, don’t you know? ” asked the man to whom he had spoken. “Where have you been that you do not know that this is the wedding day of our beautiful princess? ”There was no time to talk more, for at that very moment the wedding procession appeared. The lad looked at the bride and his heart stood still. He gazed once more upon the face of the beautiful enchanted princess whom he had awakened in the castle in the sea.He ran like the wind through the crowd. He pushed aside all who got in his way. He was like a madman. Nevertheless, he reached the steps of the church long before the bridal party arrived there.As the bride came up the steps he waved before her eyes the dainty handkerchief of sheerest linen with the royal coronet embroidered in the corner. The face of the beautiful princess turned white and then it turned to deepest rose. Her dark eyes shone with the great joy which filled her heart.Within the church the clear voice of the princess rang out proudly, “I will wed only the youth who has my handkerchief with my coronet embroidered in the corner.”The wedding guests looked at each other in amazement. The bridegroom searched anxiously in all his pockets. In none of them could he find a hand-kerchief with the coronet of the princess in the corner.The princess turned to her father. “Send men to search for him!” she cried. “He was dressed as a beggar and he sat upon the steps of the church! He it is who came to my side in the enchanted palace in the sea. It is he who awoke me out of my enchantment. I gave him my handkerchief with my coronet embroidered in the corner. I will wed him and him alone!”Search was quickly made. There on the steps of the church still sat a youth with smiling eyes, a youth dressed in shabby, dusty garments like a beggar. In his hand he held a dainty handkerchief of sheerest linen with a royal coronet embroidered in the corner.The former bridegroom retired in sorrow and disappointment, and the wedding was celebrated with great joy.
Long ago in Indian days in Canada, when Rabbit worked for Glooskap as his forest guide, he was a great thief. He liked most of all to steal by moonlight, and he crept quietly into gardens and fields where Indian vegetables were growing, for he was very fond of cabbage and lettuce and beans. Not far from his home there lived alone an old widow woman who had no children. She could not hunt game because she was a woman, and she had never been trained to the chase, so she kept a little garden from which she made a good living. All day long from dawn until sunset, she toiled hard, tilling her little garden, watering her vegetables and keeping them free from weeds. And she grew green cabbages and red carrots and yellow beans and big fat pumpkins and Indian corn, which she traded with Indian hunters in return for fish and meat. In this way she always had plenty of food, and she lived very well on good fare.But Rabbit, going his rounds one day, discovered her garden, although it was deep in the forest, and every night by moonlight or starlight he robbed it, and grew sleek and fat from the results of his thefts. And morning after morning the old widow woman found that many cabbages and carrots were missing and that much harm had been done to her plants. She had an idea that Rabbit was the pilferer, for she had heard that he was a great thief, but she was not very sure. She watched many nights, but she was never able to catch the robber, so stealthily did he come, and it was not easy to see him in the shadows. So she said to herself, “I will set up a scarecrow, a figure in the shape of a little man, and I will place it at my garden gate, and it will frighten away the robber, whoever he may be, for I must save my vegetables or I shall starve when the cold winter comes.”She picked from the spruce and the fir trees close by a great store of gum and balsam. This she formed into a figure in the shape of a little man. She made two eyes from glass beads that would shine like fire in the starlight, and a nose from a pine cone, and hair from the corn tassels and yellow moss. Then she placed the figure at the entrance to the garden where she knew the robber would come. “Now,” she thought, “I will scare away the thief.”When night fell and the moon rose above the trees, Rabbit came along, as was his custom, to steal his nightly meal. As he came near the garden very softly, he saw in the moonlight what he thought was a man standing in the path by the garden gate. The moon hung low over the forest, and there was a thin grey mist on the earth, for it was near to autumn and the nights were already cool; and the figure of the little man looked larger than human in the misty light, and it cast a long black shadow like that of a giant on the grass. Rabbit was much afraid and he trembled like an aspen leaf, but he stood quiet behind a tree and watched the strange figure. For a long time he stood still and watched and listened. But the strange figure did not move, and not a sound did Rabbit hear but the chirp of a cricket. Then with great caution he came closer. But still the figure did not move. Then his fear left him and he grew bolder, for he was very hungry, and he could smell the vegetables and the wild honeysuckle in the still night air.So he walked bravely up to the little dummy man and said, “Get out of my way and let me pass.” But the man did not move. Then Rabbit struck the man a sharp blow with his fist. But still the figure did not move. Rabbit’s fist stuck fast in the gum and he could not pull it away. Then he struck out with his other fist, and it too, like the other, was held firm. “I shall kick you,” said Rabbit in a rage. “Take that,” and he struck out wildly with his foot. But his foot, like his fists, stuck fast. Then he kicked with the other foot, but that too was held in the gum. Rabbit was now very cross, and in his anger he said, “Now I shall bite you,” but when he bit the little man, his teeth, like his feet and hands, stuck fast. Then he pushed with his body with all his might, hoping to knock the little man down, but his whole body stuck to the dummy figure.He cried out loudly, for he was now beside himself with fear, and the old woman, when she heard his yells, came running out of her house. “Aha!” she said, “so you are the robber who has been stealing from my garden. I will rid the world of a pilfering pest, for I will kill you this very night.” Then she pulled him away from the gum figure and put him in a strong bag and tied the mouth of the bag with a stout string. She left the bag on the path by the garden gate and went to look for her axe to kill Rabbit. While Rabbit lay there wondering how he was going to escape, Fox came prowling along. He stumbled over the bag, for he did not see it in the shadows, and he plunged forward headlong to the ground with a great thud. He got up and rained kicks upon the bag. He was mad because he had been tripped. He kicked poor Rabbit’s back until Rabbit cried in pain.“Who are you in the bag?” asked Fox when he heard the cries.“I am your friend Rabbit,” was the answer.“What are you doing, hiding in the bag?” asked Fox. Then Rabbit suddenly thought of a way of escape. He knew that Fox had long been looking for a wife, but that no one would have him as no one trusted him because his fame for treachery and slyness was so great.“I am not hiding,” he said. “The old woman who owns this garden wants me to marry her grand-daughter, and when I refused to do it she caught me and shut me up in this bag; she has just gone to bring the girl from her house, for she is determined to make me marry her here in the moonlight this very night. I don’t want to marry her, for she is very big and fat, and I am very small and lean.”Then he cried “Boo-hoo-hoo” again, and Fox said, “I have been looking for a wife for a long time, and I like fat people. Let me get into the bag in your place, and I will marry the grand-daughter instead, for the old woman will not know me in the shadows.” And Rabbit gladly agreed. Then Fox untied the bag and let Rabbit out and got into the bag himself, and Rabbit tied up the mouth of the bag and hurried away as quickly as he could.Soon the old woman came back, carrying her axe. She sharpened it on a stone and said, “Now I will kill you, and you will thieve no more in my garden. A poor woman must live untroubled by such pilfering rogues.” When Fox heard these words and the sound of the stone upon the axe, he knew that he had been deceived by Rabbit, and when the old woman opened the bag, he sprang nimbly out with a sudden bound and was away before she could catch him. He swore by the Starlight that he would have vengeance on Rabbit. All night long he searched for him and all the next day, but he could not find him. At last in the gathering twilight he came upon him in an open space in the forest, on the other side of a stream, eating his fill of wild vegetables. Fox tried to coax him across the stream to his side, for he himself was afraid of the water, but Rabbit would not go.“Why don’t you eat some cheese?” said Rabbit; “there is a big round cheese in the stream.” Fox looked into the stream where Rabbit pointed, and there he saw the reflection of the big round yellow moon. He thought it was a round cheese, and he plunged in after it, for he was very fond of cheese. Rabbit hoped he would be drowned, but the stream was shallow and Fox climbed out with no cheese and with only a bad fright and a wet coat for his pains. He was very cross, for he knew that Rabbit wished to do him harm, but he kept his anger to himself. Rabbit was still eating contentedly.“What are you eating?” said Fox, trying to hold him in talk until he could think of a plan to catch him.“I am eating good ripe fruit,” said Rabbit. “I am eating Indian melons.”“Throw me one,” said Fox, for he was hungry. Rabbit threw him a large round wild cucumber all covered with green prickles.“Swallow it whole at a mouthful,” said Rabbit; “it is very good that way.”It was night and the moon shone dimly through the trees, and Fox could not see what he was eating. He swallowed the cucumber at one gulp, as Rabbit had told him, but the prickles stuck in his throat and he almost choked to death. And while he was choking and spluttering and trying to cough up the cucumber, Rabbit ran away as fast as he could, laughing heartily to himself. Fox knew that he had been tricked again, and this time he swore he would kill Rabbit as soon as he could find him; he resolved that when next he saw him he would not give him a moment to live.Rabbit hid among the dry underbrush all the next day. But when the day went down and the sky was red in the west and the wind was very still, he sat on a log, as was his custom, and played softly on his flute, for he was a great player on the Indian pipe. While he was playing, Fox suddenly came upon him unawares. Rabbit saw him watching him through the trees close at hand, but although taken by surprise, he was not to be outdone.Fox was just about to spring upon him when Rabbit said, “The Chief’s daughter has just been married to a great warrior, and the wedding party will soon be along this way. They asked me to sit here and make music for them with my flute as they pass by. They have promised to pay me well, and they have invited me to the wedding feast. Come and join me and play too, and you will be well paid, and we will go to the wedding feast together and get good things to eat.”Fox thought he would let Rabbit get the pay he had been promised, for he was a very greedy fellow; then he would rob him and kill him, and he would take his flute and go to the wedding feast alone, and his vengeance would then be complete. So he decided to let his anger cool for a little time. And he said, “I have no flute, and I cannot therefore make music; but I will sit with you to see the wedding guests go by.”But Rabbit said, “Take my flute. I have another at home. I will go and get it, for there is yet time.”So Fox took the flute and began to play loudly, and Rabbit slipped hurriedly out of sight, pretending to go for his Indian pipe. But he resolved to make an end of Fox, for he feared for his own life, and instead of going home, he set the underbrush on fire. He kindled the fire at many places all around the log on which Fox sat. Fox could not hear the fire crackling because of the loud music of his flute, and he thought the light was but the bright light of the moon. And the fire was almost upon him before he knew that he was in danger. Then he tried to get away, but on all sides his escape was stopped by the flames and he could not find an opening. At last, in despair, to save his life, he jumped through the ring of fire.He escaped with his life, but his eyelids were singed, and his sleek black coat with its silver spots was scorched to a red-brown color. He was in great pain. He concluded that Rabbit was too clever for him to cope with, and he resolved to leave him alone and to forego his revenge, for he was glad to get away with his life. But he decided never again to live on friendly terms with Rabbit. And since that night Rabbit and Fox have never hunted together. And to the present day the descendants of this Fox have red eyes and a red-brown coat, because Rabbit scorched their ancestor in the olden times.
As a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace crying her fish, the queen appeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show what she had. At that moment a very big fish jumped about in the bottom of the basket.“Is it a he or a she?” inquired the queen. “I wish to purchase a she fish.”On hearing this the fish laughed aloud.“It’s a he,” replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds.The queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see her in the evening, the king noticed that something had disturbed her.“Are you indisposed?” he said.“No; but I am very much annoyed at the strange behaviour of a fish. A woman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male or female, the fish laughed most rudely.”“A fish laugh! Impossible! You must be dreaming.”“I am not a fool. I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes and have heard with my own ears.”“Passing strange! Be it so. I will inquire concerning it.”On the morrow the king repeated to his vizier what his wife had told him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a satisfactory answer within six months, on pain of death. The vizier promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. For five months he laboured indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter of the fish. He sought everywhere and from every one. The wise and learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of trickery, were consulted. Nobody, however, could explain the matter; and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient experience of the king to know that His Majesty would not go back from his threat. Amongst other things, he advised his son to travel for a time, until the king’s anger should have somewhat cooled.The young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off whithersoever Kismat might lead him. He had been gone some days, when he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain village. Finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. The old farmer agreed, and they walked along together. The day was hot, and the way was long and weary.“Don’t you think it would be pleasanter if you and I sometimes gave one another a lift?” said the youth.“What a fool the man is!” thought the old farmer.Presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle, and looking like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze.“Is this eaten or not?” said the young man.Not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, “I don’t know.”After a little while the two travellers arrived at a big village, where the young man gave his companion a clasp-knife, and said, “Take this, friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back, for it is very precious.”The old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the knife, muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a fool himself or else trying to play the fool with him. The young man pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till they reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old farmer’s house. They walked about the bazar and went to the mosque, but nobody saluted them or invited them to come in and rest.“What a large cemetery!” exclaimed the young man.“What does the man mean,” thought the old farmer, “calling this largely populated city a cemetery?”On leaving the city their way led through a cemetery where a few people were praying beside a grave and distributing chapatis and kulchas to passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They beckoned to the two travellers and gave them as much as they would.“What a splendid city this is!” said the young man.“Now, the man must surely be demented!” thought the old farmer. “I wonder what he will do next? He will be calling the land water, and the water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and of darkness when it is light.” However, he kept his thoughts to himself.Presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of the cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took of his shoes and paijamas and crossed over; but the young man waded through it with his shoes and paijamas on.“Well! I never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed,” said the old man to himself.However, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his wife and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as long as he had occasion to remain in the village.“Thank you very much,” the young man replied; “but let me first inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong.”The old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing.“There is a man in yonder field,” he said, after returning their greetings. “He has come the greater part of the way with me, and I wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village. But the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him. He wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must be mad!” and saying this, he burst into a fit of laughter.“Father,” said the farmer’s daughter, who was a very sharp and wise girl, “this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him.”“Oh! of course,” replied the farmer. “I see. Well perhaps you can help me to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking together he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as he thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding.”“Most assuredly,” said the girl. “He meant that one of you should tell a story to beguile the time.”“Oh yes. Well, we were passing through a corn-field, when he asked me whether it was eaten or not.”“And didn’t you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to know if the man was in debt or not; because, if the owner of the field was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to him; that is, it would have to go to his creditors.”“Yes, yes, yes; of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he bade me take his clasp knife and get two horses with it, and bring back the knife again to him.”“Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along on the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be careful not to lose his knife.”“I see,” said the farmer. “While we were walking over the city we did not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some people called to us and put into our hands some chapatis and kulchas; so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city.”“This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable people as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people, was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery, which is crowded with the dead, you were saluted by kind friends and provided with bread.”“True, true!” said the astonished farmer. “Then, just now, when we were crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his shoes and paijamas.”“I admire his wisdom,” replied the girl. “I have often thought how stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and over those sharp stones with bare feet. The slightest stumble and they would fall, and be wetted from head to foot. This friend of yours is a most wise man. I should like to see him and speak to him.”“Very well,” said the farmer; “I will go and find him, and bring him in.”“Tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will come in. I’ll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we can afford to have him for our guest.”Accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a present of a basin of ghee, twelve chapatis, and a jar of milk, and the following message:—”O friend, the moon is full; twelve months make a year, and the sea is overflowing with water.”Half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son, who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some of the food. His father foolishly complied. Presently he saw the young man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message.“Give your mistress my salam,” he replied, “and tell her that the moon is new, and that I can only find eleven months in the year, and the sea is by no means full.”Not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated them word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus his theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. After a little while the young man appeared with the old farmer. Great attention was shown to him, and he was treated in every way as if he were the son of a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. At length he told them everything—about the laughing of the fish, his father’s threatened execution, and his own banishment—and asked their advice as to what he should do.“The laughing of the fish,” said the girl, “which seems to have been the cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the palace who is plotting against the king’s life.”“Joy, joy!” exclaimed the vizier’s son. “There is yet time for me to return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and the king from danger.”The following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him the farmer’s daughter. Immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and informed his father of what he had heard. The poor vizier, now almost dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the king, to whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought.“Never!” said the king.“But it must be so, Your Majesty,” replied the vizier; “and in order to prove the truth of what I have heard, I pray you to call together all the maids in your palace, and order them to jump over a pit, which must be dug. We’ll soon find out whether there is any man there.”The king had the pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the palace to try to jump it. All of them tried, but only one succeeded. That one was found to be a man!!Thus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved.Afterwards, as soon as could be, the vizier’s son married the old farmer’s daughter; and a most happy marriage it was.
There was once upon a time a man and a woman, and they had one little boy. In the summertime they used to go out and mow corn in the fields, and one summer when they had laid their little lad by the side of a sheaf, an eagle swooped down, caught up the child, carried him into a forest, and laid him in its nest. Now in this forest three bandits chanced to be wandering at the same time. They heard the child crying in the eagle’s nest: “Oo-oo! oo-oo! oo-oo!” so they went up to the oak on which was the nest and said one to another, “Let us hew down the tree and kill the child!”––“No,” replied one of them, “it were better to climb up the tree and bring him down alive.” So he climbed up the tree and brought down the lad, and they nurtured him and gave him the name of Tremsin. They brought up Tremsin until he became a youth, and then they gave him a horse, set him upon it, and said to him, “Now go out into the wide world and search for thy father and thy mother!”{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other mermaid tales, in our collection Mermaid Tales: The Little Mermaid and 14 Other Illustrated Mermaid Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle.}So Tremsin went out into the wide world and pastured his steed on the vast steppes, and his steed spoke to him and said, “When we have gone a little farther, thou wilt see before thee a plume of the Bird Zhar; pick it not up, or sore trouble will be thine!” Then they went on again. They went on and on, through ten tsardoms they went, till they came to another empire in the land of Thrice Ten where lay the feather. And the youth said to himself, “Why should I not pick up the feather when it shines so brightly even from afar?”And he went near to the feather, and it shone so that the like of it cannot be expressed or conceived or imagined or even told of in tales. Then Tremsin picked up the feather and went into the town over against him, and in that town there lived a rich nobleman. And Tremsin entered the house of this nobleman and said, “Sir, may I not take service with thee as a labourer?”––The nobleman looked at him, and seeing that he was comely and stalwart, “Why not? Of course thou mayst,” said he. So he took him into his service.Now this nobleman had many servants, and they curried his horses for him, and made them smart and glossy against the day he should go a-hunting. And Tremsin began to curry his horse likewise, and the servants of the nobleman could not make the horses of their master so shining bright as Tremsin made his own horse. So they looked more closely, and they perceived that when Tremsin cleaned his horse he stroked it with the feather of the Bird Zhar, and the coat of the good steed straightway shone like burnished silver.Then those servants were filled with envy, and said among themselves, “How can we remove this fellow from the world? We’ll saddle him with a task he is unable to do, and then our master will drive him away.”––So they went to their master and said, “Tremsin has a feather of the Bird Zhar, and he says that if he likes he can get the Bird Zhar itself.” Then the nobleman sent for Tremsin and said to him, “O Tremsin! my henchmen say that thou canst get the Bird Zhar if thou dost choose.”––“Nay, but I cannot,” replied Tremsin.––“Answer me not,” said the nobleman, “for so sure as I’ve a sword, I’ll slice thy head off like a gourd.”––Then Tremsin fell a-weeping and went away to his horse. “My master,” said he, “hath given me a task to do that will clean undo me.”––“What task is that?” asked the horse.––“Why, to fetch him the Bird Zhar.”––“Why that’s not a task, but a trifle,” replied the horse. “Let us go to the steppes,” it continued, “and let me go a-browsing; but do thou strip thyself stark-naked and lie down in the grass, and the Bird Zhar will straightway swoop down to feed. So long as she only claws about thy body, touch her not; but as soon as she begins to claw at thine eyes, seize her by the legs.”So when they got to the wild steppes, Tremsin stripped himself naked and flung himself in the grass, and, immediately, the Bird Zhar swooped down and began pecking all about him, and at last she pecked at his eyes. Then Tremsin seized her by both legs, and mounted his horse and took the Bird Zhar to the nobleman. Then his fellow-servants were more envious than ever, and they said among themselves, “How shall we devise for him a task to do that cannot be done, and so rid the world of him altogether?”So they bethought them, and then they went to the nobleman and said, “Tremsin says that to get the Bird Zhar was nothing, and that he is also able to get the thrice-lovely Nastasia of the sea.” Then the nobleman again sent for Tremsin and said to him, “Look now! thou didst get for me the Bird Zhar, see that thou now also gettest for me the thrice-lovely Nastasia of the sea.”––“But I cannot, sir!” said Tremsin.––“Answer me not so!” replied the nobleman, “for so sure as I’ve a sword, I’ll slice thy head off like a gourd an thou bring her not.”––Then Tremsin went out to his horse and fell a-weeping.––“Wherefore dost thou weep?” asked the faithful steed.––“Wherefore should I not weep?” he replied. “My master has given me a task that cannot be done.”––“What task is that?”––“Why, to fetch him the thrice-lovely Nastasia of the sea!”––“Oh-ho!” laughed the horse, “that is not a task, but a trifle. Go to thy master and say, ‘Cause white tents to be raised by the sea-shore, and buy wares of sundry kinds, and wine and spirits in bottles and flasks,’ and the thrice-lovely Nastasia will come and purchase thy wares, and then thou mayst take her.”And the nobleman did so. He caused white tents to be pitched by the sea-shore, and bought kerchiefs and scarves and spread them out gaily, and made great store of wine and brandy in bottles and flasks. Then Tremsin rode toward the tents, and while he was on the way his horse said to him, “Now when I go to graze, do thou lie down and feign to sleep. Then the thrice-lovely Nastasia will appear and say, ‘What for thy wares?’ but do thou keep silence. But when she begins to taste of the wine and the brandy, then she will go to sleep in the tent, and thou canst catch her easily and hold her fast!”Then Tremsin lay down and feigned to sleep, and forth from the sea came the thrice-lovely Nastasia, and went up to the tents and asked, “Merchant, merchant, what for thy wares?” But he lay there, and moved never a limb. She asked the same thing over and over again, but, getting no answer, went into the tents where stood the flasks and the bottles. She tasted of the wine. How good it was! She tasted of the brandy. That was still better. So from tasting she fell to drinking. First she drank a little, and then she drank a little more, and at last she went asleep in the tent. Then Tremsin seized the thrice-lovely Nastasia and put her behind him on horseback, and carried her off to the nobleman.The nobleman praised Tremsin exceedingly, but the thrice-lovely Nastasia said, “Look now! since thou hast found the feather of the Bird Zhar, and the Bird Zhar herself, since also thou hast found me, thou must now fetch me also my little coral necklace from the sea!” Then Tremsin went out to his faithful steed and wept sorely, and told him all about it. And the horse said to him, “Did I not tell thee that grievous woe would come upon thee if thou didst pick up that feather?” But the horse added, “Come! weep not! after all ’tis not a task, but a trifle.” Then they went along by the sea, and the horse said to him, “Let me out to graze, and then keep watch till thou seest a crab come forth from the sea, and then say to him, ‘I’ll catch thee.’”––So Tremsin let his horse out to graze, and he himself stood by the sea-shore, and watched and watched till he saw a crab come swimming along. Then he said to the crab, “I’ll catch thee.”––“Oh! seize me not!” said the crab, “but let me get back into the sea, and I’ll be of great service to thee.”––“Very well,” said Tremsin, “but thou must get me from the sea the coral necklace of the thrice-lovely Nastasia,” and with that he let the crab go back into the sea again.Then the crab called together all her young crabs, and they collected all the coral and brought it ashore, and gave it to Tremsin. Then the faithful steed came running up, and Tremsin mounted it, and took the coral to the thrice-lovely Nastasia. “Well,” said Nastasia, “thou hast got the feather of the Bird Zhar, thou hast got the Bird Zhar itself, thou hast got me my coral, get me now from the sea my herd of wild horses!”––Then Tremsin was sore distressed, and went to his faithful steed and wept bitterly, and told him all about it. “Well,” said the horse, “this time ’tis no trifle, but a real hard task. Go now to thy master, and bid him buy twenty hides, and twenty poods (40 lbs.) of pitch, and twenty poods of flax, and twenty poods of hair.”––So Tremsin went to his master and told him, and his master bought it all. Then Tremsin loaded his horse with all this, and to the sea they went together. And when they came to the sea the horse said, “Now lay upon me the hides and the tar and the flax, and lay them in this order––first a hide, and then a pood of tar, and then a pood of flax, and so on, laying them thus till they are all laid.”Tremsin did so. “And now,” said the horse, “I shall plunge into the sea, and when thou seest a large red wave driving toward the shore, run away till the red wave has passed and thou dost see a white wave coming, and then sit down on the shore and keep watch. I shall then come out of the sea, and after me the whole herd; then thou must strike with the horsehair the horse which gallops immediately after me, and he will not be too strong for thee.”––So the faithful steed plunged into the sea, and Tremsin sat down on the shore and watched. The horse swam to a bosquet that rose out of the sea, and there the herd of sea-horses was grazing.When the strong charger of Nastasia saw him and the hides he carried on his back, it set off after him at full tilt, and the whole herd followed the strong charger of Nastasia. They drove the horse with the hides into the sea, and pursued him. Then the strong charger of Nastasia caught up the steed of Tremsin and tore off one of his hides, and began to worry it with his teeth and tear it to fragments as he ran. Then he caught him up a second time, and tore off another hide, and began to worry that in like manner till he had torn it also to shreds; and thus he ran after Tremsin’s steed for seventy miles, till he had torn off all the hides, and worried them to bits. But Tremsin sat upon the sea-shore till he saw the large white billow bounding in, and behind the billow came his own horse, and behind his own horse came the thrice-terrible charger of the thrice-lovely Nastasia, with the whole herd at his heels. Tremsin struck him full on the forehead with the twenty poods of hair, and immediately he stood stock still.Then Tremsin threw a halter over him, mounted, and drove the whole herd to the thrice-lovely Nastasia. Nastasia praised Tremsin for his prowess, and said to him, “Well, thou hast got the feather of the Bird Zhar, thou hast got the Bird Zhar itself, thou hast got me my coral and my herd of horses, now milk my mare and put the milk into three vats, so that there may be milk hot as boiling water in the first vat, lukewarm milk in the second vat, and icy cold milk in the third vat.” Then Tremsin went to his faithful steed and wept bitterly, and the horse said to him, “Wherefore dost thou weep?”––“Why should I not weep?” cried he; “the thrice-lovely Nastasia has given me a task to do that cannot be done. I am to fill three vats with the milk from her mare, and the milk must be boiling hot in the first vat, and lukewarm in the second, and icy cold in the third vat.”––“Oh-ho!” cried the horse, “that is not a task, but a trifle. I’ll caress the mare, and then go on nibbling till thou hast milked all three vats full.” So Tremsin did so. He milked the three vats full, and the milk in the first vat was boiling hot, and in the second vat warm, and in the third vat freezing cold. When all was ready the thrice-lovely Nastasia said to Tremsin, “Now, leap first of all into the cold vat, and then into the warm vat, and then into the boiling hot vat!”––Tremsin leaped into the first vat, and leaped out again an old man; he leaped into the second vat, and leaped out again a youth; he leaped into the third vat, but when he leaped out again, he was so young and handsome that no pen can describe it, and no tale can tell of it. Then the thrice-lovely Nastasia herself leaped into the vats. She leaped into the first vat, and came out an old woman; she leaped into the second vat, and came out a young maid; but when she leaped out of the third vat, she was so handsome and goodly that no pen can describe it, and no tale can tell of it. Then the thrice-lovely Nastasia made the nobleman leap into the vats. He leaped into the first vat, and became quite old; he leaped into the second vat, and became quite young; he leaped into the third vat, and burst to pieces. Then Tremsin took unto himself the thrice-lovely Nastasia to wife, and they lived happily together on the nobleman’s estate, and the evil servants they drove right away.
The storks tell their little ones very many stories, all of the moor and the marsh. These stories are generally adapted to the age and capacity of the hearers. The youngest are content if they are told “Kribble-krabble, plurre-murre” as a story, and find it charming; but the older ones want something with a deeper meaning, or at any rate something relating to the family. Of the two oldest and longest stories that have been preserved among the storks, we are only acquainted with one, namely, that of Moses, who was exposed by his mother on the banks of the Nile, and whom the king’s daughter found, and who afterwards became a great man and a prophet. That history is very well known.The second is not known yet, perhaps, because it is quite an inland story. It has been handed down from mouth to mouth, from stork-mamma to stork-mamma, for thousands of years, and each of them has told it better and better; and now we’ll tell it best of all.The first stork pair who told the story had their summer residence on the wooden house of the Viking, which lay by the wild moor in Wendsyssel; that is to say, if we are to speak out of the abundance of our knowledge, hard by the great moor in the circle of Hjörring, high up by the Skagen, the northern point of Jutland. The wilderness there is still a great wide moor-heath, about which we can read in the official description of districts. It is said that in old times there was here a sea, whose bottom was upheaved; now the moorland extends for miles on all sides, surrounded by damp meadows, and unsteady shaking swamp, and turfy moor, with blueberries and stunted trees. Mists are almost always hovering over this region, which seventy years ago was still inhabited by wolves. It is certainly rightly called the “wild moor;” and one can easily think how dreary and lonely it must have been, and how much marsh and lake there was here a thousand years ago. Yes, in detail, exactly the same things were seen then that may yet be beheld. The reeds had the same height, and bore the same kind of long leaves and bluish-brown feathery plumes that they bear now; the birch stood there, with its white bark and its fine loosely-hanging leaves, just as now; and as regards the living creatures that dwelt here—why, the fly wore its gauzy dress of the same cut that it wears now; and the favourite colours of the stork were white picked out with black, and red stockings. The people certainly wore coats of a different cut to those they now wear; but whoever stepped out on the shaking moorland, be he huntsman or follower, master or servant, met with the same fate a thousand years ago that he would meet with to-day. He sank and went down to the “marsh king,” as they called him, who ruled below in the great moorland empire. They also called him “gungel king;” but we like the name “marsh king” better, and by that we’ll call him, as the storks did. Very little is known of the marsh king’s rule; but perhaps that is a good thing.In the neighbourhood of the moorland, hard by the great arm of the German Ocean and the Cattegat, which is called the Lümfjorden, lay the wooden house of the Viking, with its stone water-tight cellars, with its tower and its three projecting stories. On the roof the stork had built his nest; and stork-mamma there hatched the eggs, and felt sure that her hatching would come to something.One evening stork-papa stayed out very long; and when he came home he looked very bustling and important.“I’ve something very terrible to tell you,” he said to the stork-mamma.“Let that be,” she replied. “Remember that I’m hatching the eggs, and you might agitate me, and I might do them a mischief.”“You must know it,” he continued. “She has arrived here—the daughter of our host in Egypt—she has dared to undertake the journey here—and she’s gone!”“She who came from the race of the fairies? Oh, tell me all about it! You know I can’t bear to be kept long in suspense when I’m hatching eggs.”“You see, mother, she believed in what the doctor said, and you told me true. She believed that the moor flowers would bring healing to her sick father, and she has flown here in swan’s plumage, in company with the other swan-princesses, who come to the North every year to renew their youth. She has come here, and she is gone!”“You are much too long-winded!” exclaimed the stork-mamma, “and the eggs might catch cold. I can’t bear being kept in such suspense!”“I have kept watch,” said the stork-papa; “and to-night, when I went into the reeds—there where the marsh ground will bear me—three swans came. Something in their flight seemed to say to me, ‘Look out! That’s not altogether swan; it’s only swan’s feathers!’ Yes, mother, you have a feeling of intuition just as I have; you know whether a thing is right or wrong.”“Yes, certainly,” she replied; “but tell me about the princess. I’m sick of hearing of the swan’s feathers.”“Well, you know that in the middle of the moor there is something like a lake,” continued stork-papa. “You can see one corner of it if you raise yourself a little. There, by the reeds and the green mud, lay a great alder stump; and on this the three swans sat, flapping their wings and looking about them. One of them threw off her plumage, and I immediately recognized her as our house princess from Egypt! There she sat, with no covering but her long black hair. I heard her tell the others to pay good heed to the swan’s plumage, while she dived down into the water to pluck the flowers which she fancied she saw growing there. The others nodded, and picked up the empty feather dress and took care of it. ‘I wonder what they will do with it?’ thought I; and perhaps she asked herself the same question. If so, she got an answer—a very practical answer—for the two rose up and flew away with her swan’s plumage. ‘Do thou dive down,’ they cried; ‘thou shalt never see Egypt again! Remain thou here in the moor!’ And so saying, they tore the swan’s plumage into a thousand pieces, so that the feathers whirled about like a snow-storm; and away they flew—the two faithless princesses!”the princess left in the marsh.“Why, that is terrible!” said stork-mamma. “I can’t bear to hear any more of it. But now tell me what happened next.”“The princess wept and lamented aloud. Her tears fell fast on the alder stump, and the latter moved; for it was not a regular alder stump, but the marsh king—he who lives and rules in the depths of the moor! I myself saw it—how the stump of the tree turned round, and ceased to be a tree stump; long thin branches grew forth from it like arms.Then the poor child was terribly frightened, and sprang up to flee away. She hurried across to the green slimy ground; but that cannot even carry me, much less her. She sank immediately, and the alder stump dived down too; and it was he who drew her down. Great black bubbles rose up out of the moor-slime, and the last trace of both of them vanished when these burst. Now the princess is buried in the wild moor, and never more will she bear away a flower to Egypt. Your heart would have burst, mother, if you had seen it.”“You ought not to tell me anything of the kind at such a time as this,” said stork-mamma; “the eggs might suffer by it. The princess will find some way of escape; some one will come to help her. If it had been you or I, or one of our people, it would certainly have been all over with us.”“But I shall go and look every day to see if anything happens,” said stork-papa.And he was as good as his word.A long time had passed, when at last he saw a green stalk shooting up out of the deep moor-ground. When it reached the surface, a leaf spread out and unfolded itself broader and broader; close by it, a bud came out. And one morning, when stork-papa flew over the stalk, the bud opened through the power of the strong sunbeams, and in the cup of the flower lay a beautiful child—a little girl—looking just as if she had risen out of the bath. The little one so closely resembled the princess from Egypt, that at the first moment the stork thought it must be the princess herself; but, on second thoughts, it appeared more probable that it must be the daughter of the princess and of the marsh king; and that also explained her being placed in the cup of the water-lily.“But she cannot possibly be left lying there,” thought stork-papa; “and in my nest there are so many persons already. But stay, I have a thought. The wife of the Viking has no children, and how often has she not wished for a little one! People always say, ‘The stork has brought a little one;’ and I will do so in earnest this time. I shall fly with the child to the Viking’s wife. What rejoicing there will be yonder!”And the stork lifted the little girl out of the flower-cup, flew to the wooden house, picked a hole with his beak in the bladder-covered window, laid the charming child on the bosom of the Viking’s wife, and then hurried up to the stork-mamma, and told her what he had seen and done; and the little storks listened to the story, for they were big enough to do so now.“So you see,” he concluded, “the princess is not dead, for she must have sent the little one up here; and now that is provided for too.”“Ah, I said it would be so, from the very beginning!” said the stork-mamma; “but now think a little of your own family. Our travelling time is drawing on; sometimes I feel quite restless in my wings already. The cuckoo and the nightingale have started; and I heard the quails saying that they were going too, so soon as the wind was favourable. Our young ones will behave well at the exercising, or I am much deceived in them.”The Viking’s wife was extremely glad when she woke next morning and found the charming infant lying in her arms. She kissed and caressed it; but it cried violently, and struggled with its arms and legs, and did not seem rejoiced at all. At length it cried itself to sleep; and as it lay there still and tranquil, it looked exceedingly beautiful. The Viking’s wife was in high glee: she felt light in body and soul; her heart leapt within her; and it seemed to her as if her husband and his warriors, who were absent, must return quite as suddenly and unexpectedly as the little one had come.Therefore she and the whole household had enough to do in preparing everything for the reception of her lord. The long coloured curtains of tapestry, which she and her maids had worked, and on which they had woven pictures of their idols, Odin, Thor, and Freya, were hung up; the slaves polished the old shields, that served as ornaments; and cushions were placed on the benches, and dry wood laid on the fireplace in the midst of the hall, so that the flame might be fanned up at a moment’s notice. The Viking’s wife herself assisted in the work, so that towards evening she was very tired, and went to sleep quickly and lightly.When she awoke towards morning, she was violently alarmed, for the infant had vanished! She sprang from her couch, lighted a pine-torch, and searched all round about; and, behold, in the part of the bed where she had stretched her feet, lay, not the child, but a great ugly frog! She was horror-struck at the sight, and seized a heavy stick to kill the frog; but the creature looked at her with such strange, mournful eyes, that she was not able to strike the blow. Once more she looked round the room—the frog uttered a low, wailing croak, and she started, sprang from the couch, and ran to the window and opened it. At that moment the sun shone forth, and flung its beams through the window on the couch and on the great frog; and suddenly it appeared as though the frog’s great mouth contracted and became small and red, and its limbs moved and stretched and became beautifully symmetrical, and it was no longer an ugly frog which lay there, but her pretty child!“What is this?” she said. “Have I had a bad dream? Is it not my own lovely cherub lying there?”And she kissed and hugged it; but the child struggled and fought like a little wild cat.Not on this day nor on the morrow did the Viking return, although he certainly was on his way home; but the wind was against him, for it blew towards the south, favourably for the storks. A good wind for one is a contrary wind for another.When one or two more days and nights had gone, the Viking’s wife clearly understood how the case was with her child, that a terrible power of sorcery was upon it. By day it was charming as an angel of light, though it had a wild, savage temper; but at night it became an ugly frog, quiet and mournful, with sorrowful eyes. Here were two natures changing inwardly as well as outwardly with the sunlight. The reason of this was that by day the child had the form of its mother, but the disposition of its father; while, on the contrary, at night the paternal descent became manifest in its bodily appearance, though the mind and heart of the mother then became dominant in the child. Who might be able to loosen this charm that wicked sorcery had worked?The wife of the Viking lived in care and sorrow about it; and yet her heart yearned towards the little creature, of whose condition she felt she should not dare tell her husband on his return; for he would probably, according to the custom which then prevailed, expose the child on the public highway, and let whoever listed take it away. The good Viking woman could not find it in her heart to allow this, and she therefore determined that the Viking should never see the child except by daylight.One morning the wings of storks were heard rushing over the roof; more than a hundred pairs of those birds had rested from their exercise during the previous night, and now they soared aloft, to travel southwards.“All males here, and ready,” they cried; “and the wives and children too.”“How light we feel!” screamed the young storks in chorus: “it seems to be creeping all over us, down into our very toes, as if we were filled with frogs. Ah, how charming it is, travelling to foreign lands!”“Mind you keep close to us during your flight,” said papa and mamma. “Don’t use your beaks too much, for that tires the chest.”And the storks flew away.At the same time the sound of the trumpets rolled across the heath, for the Viking had landed with his warriors; they were returning home,richly laden with spoil, from the Gallic coast, where the people, as in the land of the Britons, sang in frightened accents:“Deliver us from the wild Northmen!”the viking’s feast.And life and tumultuous joy came with them into the Viking’s castle on the moorland. The great mead tub was brought into the hall, the pile of wood was set ablaze, horses were killed, and a great feast was to begin. The officiating priest sprinkled the slaves with the warm blood; the fire crackled, the smoke rolled along beneath the roof; but they were accustomed to that. Guests were invited, and received handsome gifts: all feuds and all malice were forgotten. And the company drank deep, and threw the bones of the feast in each others’ faces, and this was considered a sign of good humour. The bard, a kind of minstrel, but who was also a warrior, and had been on the expedition with the rest, sang them a song, in which they heard all their warlike deeds praised, and everything remarkable specially noticed. Every verse ended with the burden:“Goods and gold, friends and foes will die; every man must one day die;But a famous name will never die!”And with that they beat upon their shields, and hammered the table in glorious fashion with bones and knives.The Viking’s wife sat upon the high seat in the open hall. She wore a silken dress, and golden armlets, and great amber beads: she was in her costliest garb. And the bard mentioned her in his song, and sang of the rich treasure she had brought her rich husband. The latter was delighted with the beautiful child, which he had seen in the daytime in all its loveliness; and the savage ways of the little creature pleased him especially. He declared that the girl might grow up to be a stately heroine, strong and determined as a man. She would not wink her eyes when a practised hand cut off her eyebrows with a sword by way of a jest.The full mead barrel was emptied, and a fresh one brought in; for these were people who liked to enjoy all things plentifully. The old proverb was indeed well known, which says, “The cattle know when they should quit the pasture, but a foolish man knoweth not the measure of his own appetite.” Yes, they knew it well enough; but one knows one thing, and one does another. They also knew that “even the welcome guest becomes wearisome when he sitteth long in the house;” but for all that they sat still, for pork and mead are good things; and there was high carousing, and at night the bondmen slept among the warm ashes, and dipped their fingers in the fat grease and licked them. Those were glorious times!Once more in the year the Viking sallied forth, though the storms of autumn already began to roar: he went with his warriors to the shores of Britain, for he declared that was but an excursion across the water; and his wife stayed at home with the little girl. And thus much is certain, that the poor lady soon got to love the frog with its gentle eyes and its sorrowful sighs, almost better than the pretty child that bit and beat all around her.The rough damp mist of autumn, which devours the leaves of the forest, had already descended upon thicket and heath. “Birds feather-less,” as they called the snow, flew in thick masses, and winter was coming on fast. The sparrows took possession of the storks’ nests, and talked about the absent proprietors according to their fashion; but these—the stork pair, with all the young ones—what had become of them?The storks were now in the land of Egypt, where the sun sent forth warm rays, as it does here on a fine midsummer day. Tamarinds and acacias bloomed in the country all around; the crescent of Mahomet glittered from the cupolas of the temples, and on the slender towers sat many a stork pair resting after the long journey. Great troops divided the nests, built close together on venerable pillars and in fallen temple arches of forgotten cities. The date-palm lifted up its screen as if it would be a sunshade; the greyish-white pyramids stood like masses of shadow in the clear air of the far desert, where the ostrich ran his swift career, and the lion gazed with his great grave eyes at the marble sphinx which lay half buried in the sand. The waters of the Nile had fallen, and the whole river bed was crowded with frogs, and this spectacle was just according to the taste of the stork family. The young storks thought it was optical illusion, they found everything so glorious.“Yes, it’s delightful here; and it’s always like this in our warm country,” said the stork-mamma; and the young ones felt quite frisky on the strength of it.“Is there anything more to be seen?” they asked. “Are we to go much farther into the country?”“There’s nothing further to be seen,” answered stork-mamma. “Behind this delightful region there are luxuriant forests, whose branches are interlaced with one another, while prickly climbing plants close up the paths—only the elephant can force a way for himself with his great feet; and the snakes are too big, and the lizards too quick for us. If you go into the desert, you’ll get your eyes full of sand when there’s a light breeze, but when it blows great guns you may get into the middle of a pillar of sand. It is best to stay here, where there are frogs and locusts. I shall stay here, and you shall stay too.”And there they remained. The parents sat in the nest on the slender minaret, and rested, and yet were busily employed smoothing and cleaning their feathers, and whetting their beaks against their red stockings. Now and then they stretched out their necks, and bowed gravely, and lifted their heads, with their high foreheads and fine smooth feathers, and looked very clever with their brown eyes. The female young ones strutted about in the juicy reeds, looked slyly at the other young storks, made acquaintances, and swallowed a frog at every third step, or rolled a little snake to and fro in their bills, which they thought became them well, and, moreover, tasted nice. The male young ones began a quarrel, beat each other with their wings, struck with their beaks, and even pricked each other till the blood came. And in this way sometimes one couple was betrothed, and sometimes another, of the young ladies and gentlemen, and that was just what they wanted, and their chief object in life: then they took to a new nest, and began new quarrels, for in hot countries people are generally hot-tempered and passionate. But it was pleasant for all that, and the old people especially were much rejoiced, for all that young people do seems to suit them well. There was sunshine every day, and every day plenty to eat, and nothing to think of but pleasure. But in the rich castle at the Egyptian host’s, as they called him, there was no pleasure to be found.The rich mighty lord reclined on his divan, in the midst of the great hall of the many-coloured walls, looking as if he were sitting in a tulip; but he was stiff and powerless in all his limbs, and lay stretched out like a mummy. His family and servants surrounded him, for he was not dead, though one could not exactly say that he was alive. The healing moor flower from the North, which was to have been found and brought home by her who loved him best, never appeared. His beauteous young daughter, who had flown in the swan’s plumage over sea and land, to the far North, was never to come back. “She is dead!” the two returning swan-maidens had said, and they had concocted a complete story, which ran as follows:“We three together flew high in the air: a hunter saw us, and shot his arrow at us; it struck our young companion and friend; and slowly, singing her farewell song, she sunk down, a dying swan, into the woodland lake. By the shore of the lake, under a weeping birch tree, we laid her in the cool earth. But we had our revenge. We bound fire under the wings of the swallow who had her nest beneath the huntsman’s thatch; the house burst into flames, the huntsman was burnt in the house, and the glare shone over the sea as far as the hanging birch beneath which she sleeps. Never will she return to the land of Egypt.”And then the two wept. And when stork-papa heard the story, he clapped with his beak so that it could be heard a long way off.“Treachery and lies!” he cried. “I should like to run my beak deep into their chests.”“And perhaps break it off,” interposed the stork-mamma; “and then you would look well. Think first of yourself, and then of your family, and all the rest does not concern you.”“But to-morrow I shall seat myself at the edge of the open cupola, when the wise and learned men assemble, to consult on the sick man’s state: perhaps they may come a little nearer the truth.”And the learned and wise men came together and spoke a great deal, out of which the stork could make no sense—and it had no result, either for the sick man or for the daughter in the swampy waste. But for all that we may listen to what the people said, for we have to listen to a great deal of talk in the world.But then it’s an advantage to hear what went before, what has been said; and in this case we are well informed, for we know just as much about it as stork-papa.“Love gives life! the highest love gives the highest life! Only through love can his life be preserved.” That is what they all said, and the learned men said it was very cleverly and beautifully spoken.“That is a beautiful thought!” stork-papa said immediately.“I don’t quite understand it,” stork-mamma replied: “and that’s not my fault, but the fault of the thought. But let it be as it will, I’ve something else to think of.”And now the learned men had spoken of love to this one and that one, and of the difference between the love of one’s neighbour and love between parents and children, of the love of plants for the light, when the sunbeam kisses the ground and the germ springs forth from it,—everything was so fully and elaborately explained that it was quite impossible for stork-papa to take it in, much less to repeat it. He felt quite weighed down with thought, and half shut his eyes, and the whole of the following day he stood thoughtfully on one leg: it was quite heavy for him to carry, all that learning.But one thing stork-papa understood. All, high and low, had spoken out of their inmost hearts, and said that it was a great misfortune for thousands of people, yes, for the whole country, that this man was lying sick, and could not get well, and that it would spread joy and pleasure abroad if he should recover. But where grew the flower that could restore him to health? They had all searched for it, consulted learned books, the twinkling stars, the weather and the wind; they had made inquiries in every byway of which they could think; and at length the wise men and the learned men had said, as we have already told, that “Love begets life—will restore a father’s life;” and on this occasion they had surpassed themselves, and said more than they understood. They repeated it, and wrote down as a recipe, “Love begets life.” But how was the thing to be prepared according to the recipe? that was a point they could not get over. At last they were decided upon the point that help must come by means of the princess, through her who clave to her father with her whole soul; and at last a method had been devised whereby help could be procured in this dilemma. Yes, it was already more than a year ago since the princess had sallied forth by night, when the brief rays of the new moon were waning: she had gone out to the marble sphinx, had shaken the dust from her sandals, and gone onward through the long passage which leads into the midst of one of the great pyramids, where one of the mighty kings of antiquity, surrounded by pomp and treasure, lay swathed in mummy cloths. There she was to incline her ear to the breast of the dead king; for thus, said the wise men, it should be made manifest to her where she might find life and health for her father. She had fulfilled all these injunctions, and had seen in a vision that she was to bring home from the deep lake in the northern moorland—the very place had been accurately described to her—the lotos flower which grows in the depths of the waters, and then her father would regain health and strength.And therefore she had gone forth in the swan’s plumage out of the land of Egypt to the open heath, to the woodland moor. And the stork-papa and stork-mamma knew all this; and now we also know it more accurately than we knew it before. We know that the marsh king had drawn her down to himself, and know that to her loved ones at home she is dead for ever. One of the wisest of them said, as the stork-mamma said too, “She will manage to help herself;” and at last they quieted their minds with that, and resolved to wait and see what would happen, for they knew of nothing better that they could do.“I should like to take away the swan’s feathers from the two faithless princesses,” said the stork-papa; “then, at any rate, they will not be able to fly up again to the wild moor and do mischief. I’ll hide the two swan-feather suits up there, till somebody has occasion for them.”“But where do you intend to hide them?” asked stork-mamma.“Up in our nest in the moor,” answered he. “I and our young ones will take turns in carrying them up yonder, on our return, and if that should prove too difficult for us, there are places enough on the way where we can conceal them till our next journey. Certainly, one suit of swan’s feathers would be enough for the princess, but two are always better. In those northern countries no one can have too many wraps.”“No one will thank you for it,” quoth stork-mamma; “but you’re the master. Except at breeding-time, I have nothing to say.”In the Viking’s castle by the wild moor, whither the storks bent their flight when the spring approached, they had given the little girl the name of Helga; but this name was too soft for a temper like that which was associated with her beauteous form. Every month this temper showed itself in sharper outlines; and in the course of years—during which the storks made the same journey over and over again, in autumn to the Nile, in spring back to the moorland lake—the child grew to be a great girl; and before people were aware of it, she was a beautiful maiden in her sixteenth year. The shell was splendid, but the kernel was harsh and hard; and she was hard, as indeed were most people in those dark, gloomy times. It was a pleasure to her to splash about with her white hands in the blood of the horse that had been slain in sacrifice. In her wild mood she bit off the neck of the black cock the priest was about to offer up; and to her father she said in perfect seriousness,“If thy enemy should pull down the roof of thy house, while thou wert sleeping in careless safety; if I felt it or heard it, I would not wake thee even if I had the power. I should never do it, for my ears still tingle with the blow that thou gavest me years ago—thou! I have never forgotten it.”But the Viking took her words in jest; for, like all others, he was bewitched with her beauty, and he knew not how temper and form changed in Helga. Without a saddle she sat upon a horse, as if she were part of it, while it rushed along in full career; nor would she spring from the horse when it quarrelled and fought with other horses. Often she would throw herself, in her clothes, from the high shore into the sea, and swim to meet the Viking when his boat steered near home; and she cut the longest lock of her hair, and twisted it into a string for her bow.“Self-achieved is well-achieved,” she said.The Viking’s wife was strong of character and of will, according to the custom of the times; but, compared to her daughter, she appeared as a feeble, timid woman; for she knew that an evil charm weighed heavily upon the unfortunate child.It seemed as if, out of mere malice, when her mother stood on the threshold or came out into the yard, Helga, would often seat herself on the margin of the well, and wave her arms in the air; then suddenly she would dive into the deep well, when her frog nature enabled her to dive and rise, down and up, until she climbed forth again like a cat, and came back into the hall dripping with water, so that the green leaves strewn upon the ground floated and turned in the streams that flowed from her garments.But there was one thing that imposed a check upon Helga, and that was the evening twilight. When that came she was quiet and thoughtful, and would listen to reproof and advice; and then a secret feeling seemed to draw her towards her mother. And when the sun sank, and the usual transformation of body and spirit took place in her, she would sit quiet and mournful, shrunk to the shape of the frog, her body indeed much larger than that of the animal whose likeness she took, and for that reason much more hideous to behold; for she looked like a wretched dwarf with a frog’s head and webbed fingers. Her eyes then assumed a very melancholy expression. She had no voice, and could only utter a hollow croaking that sounded like the stifled sob of a dreaming child. Then the Viking’s wife took her on her lap, and forgot the ugly form as she looked into the mournful eyes, and said,“I could almost wish that thou wert always my poor dumb frog-child; for thou art only the more terrible when thy nature is veiled in a form of beauty.”And the Viking woman wrote Runic characters against sorcery and spells of sickness, and threw them over the wretched child; but she could not see that they worked any good.“One can scarcely believe that she was ever so small that she could lie in the cup of a water-lily,” said stork-papa, “now she’s grown up the image of her Egyptian mother. Ah, we shall never see that poor lady again! Probably she did not know how to help herself, as you and the learned men said. Year after year I have flown to and fro, across and across the great moorland, and she has never once given a sign that she was still alive. Yes, I may as well tell you, that every year, when I came here a few days before you, to repair the nest and attend to various matters, I spent a whole night in flying to and fro over the lake, as if I had been an owl or a bat, but every time in vain. The two suits of swan feathers which I and the young ones dragged up here out of the land of the Nile have consequently not been used: we had trouble enough with them to bring them hither in three journeys; and now they lie down here in the nest, and if it should happen that a fire broke out, and the wooden house were burned, they would be destroyed.”“And our good nest would be destroyed too,” said stork-mamma; “but you think less of that than of your plumage stuff and of your moor-princess. You’d best go down into the mud and stay there with her. You’re a bad father to your own children, as I said already when I hatched our first brood. I only hope neither we nor our children will get an arrow in our wings through that wild girl. Helga doesn’t know in the least what she does. I wish she would only remember that we have lived here longer than she, and that we have never forgotten our duty, and have given our toll every year, a feather, an egg, and a young one, as it was right we should do. Do you think I can now wander about in the courtyard and everywhere, as I was wont in former days, and as I still do in Egypt, where I am almost the playfellow of the people, and that I can press into pot and kettle as I can yonder? No, I sit up here and am angry at her, the stupid chit! And I am angry at you too. You should have just left her lying in the water-lily, and she would have been dead long ago.”“You are much better than your words,” said stork-papa. “I know you better than you know yourself.”And with that he gave a hop, and flapped his wings heavily twice, stretched out his legs behind him, and flew away, or rather sailed away, without moving his wings. He had already gone some distance, when he gave a great flap! The sun shone upon his grand plumage, and his head and neck were stretched forth proudly. There was power in it, and dash!“After all, he’s handsomer than any of them,” said stork-mamma to herself; “but I won’t tell him so.”Early in that autumn the Viking came home, laden with booty, and bringing prisoners with him. Among these was a young Christian priest, one of those who contemned the gods of the North.Often in those later times there had been a talk, in hall and chamber, of the new faith that was spreading far and wide in the South, and which, by means of Saint Ansgarius, had penetrated as far as Hedeby on the Schlei. Even Helga had heard of this belief in One who, from love to men and for their redemption, had sacrificed His life; but with her all this had, as the saying is, gone in at one ear and come out at the other. It seemed as if she only understood the meaning of the word “love,” when she crouched in a corner of the chamber in the form of a miserable frog; but the Viking’s wife had listened to the mighty history that was told throughout the lands, and had felt strangely moved thereby.On their return from their voyage, the men told of the splendid temples, of their hewn stones, raised for the worship of Him whose worship is love. Some massive vessels, made with cunning art, of gold, had been brought home among the booty, and each one had a peculiar fragrance; for they were incense vessels, which had been swung by Christian priests before the altar.In the deep cellars of the Viking’s house the young priest had been immured, his hands and feet bound with strips of bark. The Viking’s wife declared that he was beautiful as Bulder to behold, and his misfortune touched her heart; but Helga declared that it would be right to tie ropes to his heels, and fasten him to the tails of wild oxen. And she exclaimed,“Then I would let loose the dogs—hurrah! over the moor and across the swamp! That would be a spectacle for the gods! And yet finer would it be to follow him in his career.”But the Viking would not suffer him to die such a death: he purposed to sacrifice the priest on the morrow, on the death-stone in the grove, as a despiser and foe of the high gods.For the first time a man was to be sacrificed here.Helga begged, as a boon, that she might sprinkle the image of the god and the assembled multitude with the blood of the priest. She sharpened her glittering knife, and when one of the great savage dogs, of whom a number were running about near the Viking’s abode, ran by her, she thrust the knife into his side, “merely to try its sharpness,” as she said. And the Viking’s wife looked mournfully at the wild, evil-disposed girl; and when night came on and the maiden exchanged beauty of form for gentleness of soul, she spoke in eloquent words to Helga of the sorrow that was deep in her heart.The ugly frog, in its monstrous form, stood before her, and fixed its brown eyes upon her face, listening to her words, and seeming to comprehend them with human intelligence.“Never, not even to my lord and husband, have I allowed my lips to utter a word concerning the sufferings I have to undergo through thee,” said the Viking’s wife; “my heart is full of woe concerning thee: more powerful, and greater than I ever fancied it, is the love of a mother! But love never entered into thy heart—thy heart that is like the wet, cold moorland plants.”Then the miserable form trembled, and it was as though these words touched an invisible bond between body and soul, and great tears came into the mournful eyes.“Thy hard time will come,” said the Viking’s wife; “and it will be terrible to me too. It had been better if thou hadst been set out by the high-road, and the night wind had lulled thee to sleep.”And the Viking’s wife wept bitter tears, and went away full of wrath and bitterness of spirit, vanishing behind the curtain of furs that hung loose over the beam and divided the hall.The wrinkled frog crouched in the corner alone. A deep silence reigned around; but at intervals a half-stifled sigh escaped from its breast, from the breast of Helga. It seemed as though a painful new life were arising in her inmost heart. She came forward and listened; and, stepping forward again, grasped with her clumsy hands the heavy pole that was laid across before the door. Silently and laboriously she pushed back the pole, silently drew back the bolt, and took up the flickering lamp which stood in the antechamber of the hall. It seemed as if a strong hidden will gave her strength. She drew back the iron bolt from the closed cellar door, and crept in to the captive. He was asleep; and when he awoke and saw the hideous form, he shuddered as though he had beheld a wicked apparition. She drew her knife, cut the bonds that confined his hands and feet, and beckoned him to follow her.He uttered some holy names, and made the sign of the cross; and when the form remained motionless at his side, he said,“Who art thou? Whence this animal shape that thou bearest, while yet thou art full of gentle mercy?”The frog-woman beckoned him to follow, and led him through corridors shrouded with curtains, into the stables, and there pointed to a horse. He mounted on its back; but she also sprang up before him, holding fast by the horse’s mane. The prisoner understood her meaning, and in a rapid trot they rode on a way which he would never have found, out on to the open heath.He thought not of her hideous form, but felt how the mercy and loving-kindness of the Almighty were working by means of this monstrous apparition; he prayed pious prayers, and sang songs of praise. Then she trembled. Was it the power of song and of prayer that worked in her, or was she shuddering at the cold morning twilight that was approaching? What were her feelings? She raised herself up, and wanted to stop the horse and to alight; but the Christian priest held her back with all his strength, and sang a pious song, as if that would have the power to loosen the charm that turned her into the hideous semblance of a frog. And the horse gallopped on more wildly than ever; the sky turned red, the first sunbeam pierced through the clouds, and as the flood of light came streaming down, the frog changed its nature. Helga was again the beautiful maiden with the wicked, demoniac spirit. He held a beautiful maiden in his arms, but was horrified at the sight: he swung himself from the horse, and compelled it to stand. This seemed to him a new and terrible sorcery; but Helga likewise leaped from the saddle, and stood on the ground. The child’s short garment reached only to her knee. She plucked the sharp knife from her girdle, and quick as lightning she rushed in upon the astonished priest.“Let me get at thee!” she screamed; “let me get at thee, and plunge this knife in thy body! Thou art pale as straw, thou beardless slave!”She pressed in upon him. They struggled together in a hard strife, but an invisible power seemed given to the Christian captive. He held her fast; and the old oak tree beneath which they stood came to his assistance; for its roots, which projected over the ground, held fast the maiden’s feet that had become entangled in it. Quite close to them gushed a spring; and he sprinkled Helga’s face and neck with the fresh water, and commanded the unclean spirit to come forth, and blessed her in the Christian fashion; but the water of faith has no power when the well-spring of faith flows not from within.And yet the Christian showed his power even now, and opposed more than the mere might of a man against the evil that struggled within the girl. His holy action seemed to overpower her: she dropped her hands, and gazed with frightened eyes and pale cheeks upon him who appeared to her a mighty magician learned in secret arts; he seemed to her to speak in a dark Runic tongue, and to be making cabalistic signs in the air. She would not have winked had he swung a sharp knife or a glittering axe against her; but she trembled when he signed her with the sign of the cross on her brow and her bosom, and she sat there like a tame bird with bowed head.Then he spoke to her in gentle words of the kindly deed she had done for him in the past night, when she came to him in the form of the hideous frog, to loosen his bonds, and to lead him out to life and light; and he told her that she too was bound in closer bonds than those that had confined him, and that she should be released by his means. He would take her to Hedeby (Schleswig), to the holy Ansgarius, and yonder in the Christian city the spell that bound her would be loosed. But he would not let her sit before him on the horse, though of her own accord she offered to do so.“Thou must sit behind me, not before me,” he said. “Thy magic beauty hath a power that comes of evil, and I fear it; and yet I feel that the victory is sure to him who hath faith.”And he knelt down and prayed fervently. It seemed as though the woodland scenes were consecrated as a holy church by his prayer. The birds sang as though they belonged to the new congregation, the wild flowers smelt sweet as incense; and while he spoke the horse that had carried them both in headlong career stood still before the tall bramble bushes, and plucked at them, so that the ripe juicy berries fell down upon Helga’s hands, offering themselves for her refreshment.Patiently she suffered the priest to lift her on the horse, and sat like a somnambulist, neither completely asleep nor wholly awake. The Christian bound two branches together with bark, in the form of a cross, which he held up high as they rode through the forest. The wood became thicker as they went on, and at last became a trackless wilderness.The wild sloe grew across the way, so that they had to ride round the bushes. The bubbling spring became not a stream but a standing marsh, round which likewise they were obliged to lead the horse. There was strength and refreshment in the cool forest breeze; and no small power lay in the gentle words, which were spoken in faith and in Christian love, from a strong inward yearning to lead the poor lost one into the way of light and life.They say the rain-drops can hollow the hard stone, and the waves of the sea can smooth and round the sharp edges of the rocks. Thus did the dew of mercy, that dropped upon Helga, smooth what was rough, and penetrate what was hard in her. The effects did not yet appear, nor was she aware of them herself; but doth the seed in the bosom of earth know, when the refreshing dew and the quickening sunbeams fall upon it, that it hath within itself the power of growth and blossoming? As the song of the mother penetrates into the heart of the child, and it babbles the words after her, without understanding their import, until they afterwards engender thought, and come forward in due time clearer and more clearly, so here also did the Word work, that is powerful to create.They rode forth from the dense forest, across the heath, and then again through pathless roads; and towards evening they encountered a band of robbers.“Where hast thou stolen that beauteous maiden?” cried the robbers; and they seized the horse’s bridle, and dragged the two riders from its back. The priest had no weapon save the knife he had taken from Helga; and with this he tried to defend himself. One of the robbers lifted his axe to slay him, but the young priest sprang aside and eluded the blow, which struck deep into the horse’s neck, so that the blood spurted forth, and the creature sank down on the ground. Then Helga seemed suddenly to wake from her long reverie, and threw herself hastily upon the gasping animal. The priest stood before her to protect and defend her, but one of the robbers swung his iron hammer over the Christian’s head, and brought it down with such a crash that blood and brains were scattered around, and the priest sank to the earth, dead.Then the robber’s seized beautiful Helga by her white arms and her slender waist; but the sun went down, and its last ray disappeared at that moment, and she was changed into the form of a frog. A white-green mouth spread over half her face, her arms became thin and slimy, and broad hands with webbed fingers spread out upon them like fans. Then the robbers were seized with terror, and let her go. She stood, a hideous monster, among them; and as it is the nature of the frog to do, she hopped up high, and disappeared in the thicket. Then the robbers saw that this must be a bad prank of the spirit Loke, or the evil power of magic, and in great affright they hurried away from the spot.The full moon was already rising. Presently it shone with splendid radiance over the earth, and poor Helga crept forth from the thicket in the wretched frog’s shape. She stood still beside the corpse of the priest and the carcase of the slain horse. She looked at them with eyes that appeared to weep, and from the frog-mouth came forth a croaking like the voice of a child bursting into tears. She leant first over the one, then over the other, brought water in her hollow hand, which had become larger and more capacious by the webbed skin, and poured it over them; but dead they were, and dead they would remain, she at last understood. Soon wild beasts would come and tear their dead bodies; but no, that must not be! so she dug up the earth as well as she could, in the endeavour to prepare a grave for them. She had nothing to work with but a stake and her two hands encumbered with the webbed skin that grew between the fingers, and which were torn by the labour, so that the blood flowed over them. At last she saw that her endeavours would not succeed. Then she brought water and washed the dead man’s face, and covered it with fresh green leaves; she brought green boughs and laid them upon him, scattering dead leaves in the spaces between. Then she brought the heaviest stones she could carry and laid them over the dead body, stopping up the interstices with moss. And now she thought the grave-hill would be strong and secure. The night had passed away in this difficult work—the sun broke through the clouds, and beautiful Helga stood there in all her loveliness, with bleeding hands, and with the first tears flowing that had ever bedewed her maiden cheeks.Then in this transformation it seemed as if two natures were striving within her. Her whole frame trembled, and she looked around, as if she had just awoke from a troubled dream. Then she ran towards the slender tree, clung to it for support, and in another moment she had climbed to the summit of the tree, and held fast. There she sat like a startled squirrel, and remained the whole day long in the silent solitude of the wood, where everything is quiet, and, as they say, dead. Butterflies fluttered around in sport, and in the neighbourhood were several ant-hills, each with its hundreds of busy little occupants moving briskly to and fro. In the air danced a number of gnats, swarm upon swarm, and hosts of buzzing flies, lady-birds, gold beetles, and other little winged creatures; the worm crept forth from the damp ground, the moles came out; but except these all was silent around—silent, and, as people say, dead—for they speak of things as they understand them. No one noticed Helga, but some flocks of crows, that flew screaming about the top of the tree on which she sat: the birds hopped close up to her on the twigs with pert curiosity; but when the glance of her eye fell upon them, it was a signal for their flight. But they could not understand her—nor, indeed, could she understand herself.When the evening twilight came on, and the sun was sinking, the time of her transformation roused her to fresh activity. She glided down from the tree, and as the last sunbeam vanished she stood in the wrinkled form of the frog, with the torn webbed skin on her hands; but her eyes now gleamed with a splendour of beauty that had scarcely been theirs when she wore her garb of loveliness, for they were a pair of pure, pious, maidenly eyes that shone out of the frog-face. They bore witness of depth of feeling, of the gentle human heart; and the beauteous eyes overflowed in tears, weeping precious drops that lightened the heart.On the sepulchral mound she had raised there yet lay the cross of boughs, the last work of him who slept beneath. Helga lifted up the cross, in pursuance of a sudden thought that came upon her. She planted it upon the burial mound, over the priest and the dead horse. The sorrowful remembrance of him called fresh tears into her eyes; and in this tender frame of mind she marked the same sign in the sand around the grave; and as she wrote the sign with both her hands, the webbed skin fell from them like a torn glove; and when she washed her hands in the woodland spring, and gazed in wonder at their snowy whiteness, she again made the holy sign in the air between herself and the dead man; then her lips trembled, the holy name that had been preached to her during the ride from the forest came to her mouth, and she pronounced it audibly.Then the frog-skin fell from her, and she was once more the beauteous maiden. But her head sank wearily, her tired limbs required rest, and she fell into a deep slumber.Her sleep, however, was short. Towards midnight she awoke. Before her stood the dead horse, beaming and full of life, which gleamed forth from his eyes and from his wounded neck; close beside the creature stood the murdered Christian priest, “more beautiful than Bulder,” the Viking woman would have said; and yet he seemed to stand in a flame of fire.Such gravity, such an air of justice, such a piercing look shone out of his great mild eyes, that their glance seemed to penetrate every corner of her heart. Beautiful Helga trembled at the look, and her remembrance awoke as though she stood before the tribunal of judgment.Every good deed that had been done for her, every loving word that had been spoken, seemed endowed with life: she understood that it had been love that kept her here during the days of trial, during which the creature formed of dust and spirit, soul and earth, combats and struggles; she acknowledged that she had only followed the leading of temper, and had done nothing for herself; everything had been given her, everything had happened as it were by the interposition of Providence. She bowed herself humbly, confessing her own deep imperfection in the presence of the Power that can read every thought of the heart—and then the priest spoke.“Thou daughter of the moorland,” he said, “out of the earth, out of the moor, thou camest; but from the earth thou shalt arise. I come from the land of the dead. Thou, too, shalt pass through the deep valleys into the beaming mountain region, where dwell mercy and completeness. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby, that thou mayest receive Christian baptism; for, first, thou must burst the veil of waters over the deep moorland, and draw forth the living source of thy being and of thy birth; thou must exercise thy faculties in deeds before the consecration can be given thee.”And he lifted her upon the horse, and gave her a golden censer similar to the one she had seen in the Viking’s castle. The open wound in the forehead of the slain Christian shone like a diadem. He took the cross from the grave and held it aloft. And now they rode through the air, over the rustling wood, over the hills where the old heroes lay buried, each on his dead war-horse; and the iron figures rose up and gallopped forth, and stationed themselves on the summits of the hills. The golden hoop on the forehead of each gleamed in the moonlight, and their mantles floated in the night breeze. The dragon that guards buried treasures likewise lifted up his head and gazed after the riders. The gnomes and wood-spirits peeped forth from beneath the hills and from between the furrows of the fields, and flitted to and fro with red, blue, and green torches, like the sparks in the ashes of a burnt paper.Over woodland and heath, over river and marsh they fled away, up to the wild moor; and over this they hovered in wide circles. The Christian priest held the cross aloft; it gleamed like gold; and from his lips dropped pious prayers. Beautiful Helga joined in the hymns he sang, like a child joining in its mother’s song. She swung the censer, and a wondrous fragrance of incense streamed forth thence, so that the reeds and grass of the moor burst forth into blossom. Every germ came forth from the deep ground. All that had life lifted itself up. A veil of water-lilies spread itself forth like a carpet of wrought flowers, and upon this carpet lay a sleeping woman, young and beautiful. Helga thought it was her own likeness she saw upon the mirror of the calm waters. But it was her mother whom she beheld, the moor king’s wife, the princess from the banks of the Nile.The dead priest commanded that the slumbering woman should be lifted upon the horse; but the horse sank under the burden, as though its body had been a cloth fluttering in the wind. But the holy sign gave strength to the airy phantom, and then the three rode from the moor to the firm land.Then the cock crowed in the Viking’s castle, and the phantom shapes dissolved and floated away in air; but mother and daughter stood opposite each other.“Am I really looking at my own image from beneath the deep waters?” asked the mother.“Is it myself that I see reflected on the clear mirror?” exclaimed the daughter.And they approached one another, and embraced. The heart of the mother beat quickest, and she understood the quickening pulses.“My child! thou flower of my own heart! my lotos-flower of the deep waters!”And she embraced her child anew, and wept; and the tears were as a new baptism of life and love to Helga.“In the swan’s plumage came I hither,” said the mother; “and here also I threw off my dress of feathers. I sank through the shaking moorland, far down into the black slime, which closed like a wall around me. But soon I felt a fresher stream; a power drew me down, deeper and ever deeper. I felt the weight of sleep upon my eyelids; I slumbered, and dreams hovered round me. It seemed to me that I was again in the pyramid in Egypt, and yet the waving willow trunk that had frightened me up in the moor was ever before me. I looked at the clefts and wrinkles in the stem, and they shone forth in colours, and took the form of hieroglyphics: it was the case of the mummy at which I was gazing; at last the case burst, and forth stepped the thousand-year-old king, the mummied form, black as pitch, shining black as the wood-snail or the fat mud of the swamp; whether it was the marsh king or the mummy of the pyramids I knew not. He seized me in his arms, and I felt as if I must die. When I returned to consciousness a little bird was sitting on my bosom, beating with its wings, and twittering and singing. The bird flew away from me up towards the heavy, dark covering; but a long green band still fastened him to me. I heard and understood his longing tones: ‘Freedom! Sunlight! to my father!’ Then I thought of my father and the sunny land of my birth, my life, and my love; and I loosened the band and let the bird soar away home to the father. Since that hour I have dreamed no more. I have slept a sleep, a long and heavy sleep, till within this hour; harmony and incense awoke me and set me free.”The green band from the heart of the mother to the bird’s wings, where did it flutter now? whither had it been wafted? Only the stork had seen it. The band was the green stalk, the bow at the end, the beauteous flower, the cradle of the child that had now bloomed into beauty, and was once more resting on its mother’s heart.And while the two were locked in each other’s embrace, the old stork flew around them in smaller and smaller circles, and at length shot away in swift flight towards his nest, whence he brought out the swan-feather suits he had preserved there for years, throwing one to each of them, and the feathers closed around them, so that they soared up from the earth in the semblance of two white swans.“And now we will speak with one another,” quoth stork-papa, “now we understand each other, though the beak of one bird is differently shaped from that of another. It happens more than fortunately that you came to-night. To-morrow we should have been gone—mother, myself, and the young ones; for we’re flying southward. Yes, only look at me! I am an old friend from the land of the Nile, and mother has a heart larger than her beak. She always declared the princess would find a way to help herself; and I and the young ones carried the swan’s feathers up here. But how glad I am! and how fortunate that I’m here still! At dawn of day we shall move hence, a great company of storks. We’ll fly first, and do you follow us; thus you cannot miss your way; moreover, I and the youngsters will keep a sharp eye upon you.”“And the lotos-flower which I was to bring with me,” said the Egyptian princess, “she is flying by my side in the swan’s plumage! I bring with me the flower of my heart; and thus the riddle has been read. Homeward! homeward!”But Helga declared she could not quit the Danish land before she had once more seen her foster-mother, the affectionate Viking woman. Every beautiful recollection, every kind word, every tear that her foster-mother had wept for her, rose up in her memory, and in that moment she almost felt as if she loved the Viking woman best of all.“Yes, we must go to the Viking’s castle,” said stork-papa; “mother and the youngsters are waiting for us there. How they will turn up their eyes and flap their wings! Yes, you see mother doesn’t speak much—she’s short and dry, but she means all the better. I’ll begin clapping at once, that they may know we’re coming.” And stork-papa clapped in first-rate style, and they all flew away towards the Viking’s castle.In the castle every one was sunk in deep sleep. The Viking’s wife had not retired to rest until it was late. She was anxious about Helga, who had vanished with a Christian priest three days before: she knew Helga must have assisted him in his flight, for it was the girl’s horse that had been missed from the stables; but how all this had been effected was a mystery to her. The Viking woman had heard of the miracles told of the Christian priest, and which were said to be wrought by him and by those who believed in his words and followed him. Her passing 8thoughts formed themselves into a dream, and it seemed to her that she was still lying awake on her couch, and that deep darkness reigned without. The storm drew near: she heard the sea roaring and rolling to the east and to the west, like the waves of the North Sea and the Cattegat. The immense snake which was believed to surround the span of the earth in the depths of the ocean was trembling in convulsions; she dreamed that the night of the fall of the gods had come—Ragnarok, as the heathen called the last day, when everything was to pass away, even the great gods themselves. The war-trumpet sounded, and the gods rode over the rainbow, clad in steel, to fight the last battle. The winged Valkyrs rode before them, and the dead warriors closed the train. The whole firmament was ablaze with northern lights, and yet the darkness seemed to predominate. It was a terrible hour.And close by the terrified Viking woman Helga seemed to be crouching on the floor in the hideous frog form, trembling and pressing close to her foster-mother, who took her on her lap and embraced her affectionately, hideous though she was. The air resounded with the blows of clubs and swords, and with the hissing of arrows, as if a hailstorm were passing across it. The hour was come when earth and sky were to burst, the stars to fall, and all things to be swallowed up in Surtur’s sea of fire; but she knew that there would be a new heaven and a new earth, that the corn fields then would wave where now the ocean rolled over the desolate tracts of sand, and that the unutterable God would reign; and up to Him rose Bulder the gentle, the affectionate, delivered from the kingdom of the dead; he came; the Viking woman saw him, and recognized his countenance; it was that of the captive Christian priest. “White Christian!” she cried aloud, and with these words she pressed a kiss upon the forehead of the hideous frog-child. Then the frog-skin fell off, and Helga stood revealed in all her beauty, lovely and gentle as she had never appeared, and with beaming eyes. She kissed her foster-mother’s hands, blessed her for all the care and affection lavished during the days of bitterness and trial, for the thought she had awakened and cherished in her, for naming the name, which she repeated, “White Christian;” and beauteous Helga arose in the form of a mighty swan, and spread her white wings with a rushing like the sound of a troop of birds of passage winging their way through the air.The Viking woman woke; and she heard the same noise without still continuing. She knew it was the time for the storks to depart, and that it must be those birds whose wings she heard. She wished to see them once more, and to bid them farewell as they set forth on their journey. Therefore she rose from her couch and stepped out upon the threshold, and on the top of the gable she saw stork ranged behind stork, and around the castle, over the high trees, flew bands of storks wheeling in wide circles; but opposite the threshold where she stood, by the well where Helga had often sat and alarmed her with her wildness, sat two white swans gazing at her with intelligent eyes. And she remembered her dream, which still filled her soul as if it were reality. She thought of Helga in the shape of a swan, and of the Christian priest; and suddenly she felt her heart rejoice within her.the disguised princesses bid farewell to the viking woman.The swans flapped their wings and arched their necks, as if they would send her a greeting, and the Viking’s wife spread out her arms towards them, as if she felt all this; and smiled through her tears, and then stood sunk in deep thought.Then all the storks arose, flapping their wings and clapping with their beaks, to start on their voyage towards the South.“We will not wait for the swans,” said stork-mamma: “if they want to go with us they had better come. We can’t sit here till the plovers start. It is a fine thing, after all, to travel in this way, in families, not like the finches and partridges, where the male and female birds fly in separate bodies, which appears to me a very unbecoming thing. What are yonder swans flapping their wings for?”“Well, everyone flies in his own fashion,” said stork-papa: “the swans in an oblique line, the cranes in a triangle, and the plovers in a snake’s line.”“Don’t talk about snakes while we are flying up here,” said stork-mamma. “It only puts ideas into the children’s heads which can’t be gratified.”“Are those the high mountains of which I heard tell?” asked Helga, in the swan’s plumage.“They are storm clouds driving on beneath us,” replied her mother.“What are yonder white clouds that rise so high?” asked Helga again.“Those are the mountains covered with perpetual snow which you see yonder,” replied her mother.And they flew across the lofty Alps towards the blue Mediterranean.“Africa’s land! Egypt’s strand!” sang, rejoicingly, in her swan’s plumage, the daughter of the Nile, as from the lofty air she saw her native land looming in the form of a yellowish wavy stripe of shore.And all the birds caught sight of it, and hastened their flight.“I can scent the Nile mud and wet frogs,” said stork-mamma; “I begin to feel quite hungry. Yes; now you shall taste something nice; and you will see the maraboo bird, the crane, and the ibis. They all belong to our family, though they are not nearly so beautiful as we. They give themselves great airs, especially the ibis. He has been quite spoilt by the Egyptians, for they make a mummy of him and stuff him with spices. I would rather be stuffed with live frogs, and so would you, and so you shall. Better have something in one’s inside while one is alive than to be made a fuss with after one is dead. That’s my opinion, and I am always right.”“Now the storks are come,” said the people in the rich house on the banks of the Nile, where the royal lord lay in the open hall on the downy cushions, covered with a leopard skin, not alive and yet not dead, but waiting and hoping for the lotos-flower from the deep moorland, in the far North. Friends and servants stood around his couch.And into the hall flew two beauteous swans. They had come with the storks. They threw off their dazzling white plumage, and two lovely female forms were revealed, as like each other as two dewdrops. They bent over the old, pale, sick man, they put back their long hair, and while Helga bent over her grandfather, his white cheeks reddened, his eyes brightened, and life came back to his wasted limbs. The old man rose up cheerful and well; and daughter and granddaughter embraced him joyfully, as if they were giving him a morning greeting after a long heavy dream.And joy reigned through the whole house, and likewise in the stork’s nest, though there the chief cause was certainly the good food, especially the numberless frogs, which seemed to spring up in heaps out of the ground; and while the learned men wrote down hastily, in flying characters, a sketch of the history of the two princesses, and of the flower of health that had been a source of joy for the home and the land, the stork pair told the story to their family in their own fashion, but not till all had eaten their fill, otherwise the youngsters would have found something more interesting to do than to listen to stories.“Now, at last, you will become something,” whispered stork-mamma, “there’s no doubt about that.”“What should I become?” asked stork-papa. “What have I done? Nothing at all!”“You have done more than the rest! But for you and the youngsters the two princesses would never have seen Egypt again, or have effected the old man’s cure. You will turn out something! They must certainly give you a doctor’s degree, and our youngsters will inherit it, and so will their children after them, and so on. You already look like an Egyptian doctor; at least in my eyes.”“I cannot quite repeat the words as they were spoken,” said stork-papa, who had listened from the roof to the report of these events, made by the learned men, and was now telling it again to his own family. “What they said was so confused, it was so wise and learned, that they immediately received rank and presents—even the head cook received an especial mark of distinction—probably for the soup.”“And what did you receive?” asked stork-mamma. “Surely they ought not to forget the most important person of all, and you are certainly he! The learned men have done nothing throughout the whole affair but used their tongues; but you will doubtless receive what is due to you.”Late in the night, when the gentle peace of sleep rested upon the now happy house, there was one who still watched. It was not stork-papa, though he stood upon one leg, and slept on guard—it was Helga who watched. She bowed herself forward over the balcony, and looked into the clear air, gazed at the great gleaming stars, greater and purer in their lustre than she had ever seen them in the North, and yet the same orbs. She thought of the Viking woman in the wild moorland, of the gentle eyes of her foster-mother, and of the tears which the kind soul had wept over the poor frog-child that now lived in splendour under the gleaming stars, in the beauteous spring air on the banks of the Nile. She thought of the love that dwelt in the breast of the heathen woman, the love that had been shown to a wretched creature, hateful in human form, and hideous in its transformation. She looked at the gleaming stars, and thought of the glory that had shone upon the forehead of the dead man, when she flew with him through the forest and across the moorland; sounds passed through her memory, words she had heard pronounced as they rode onward, and when she was borne wondering and trembling through the air, words from the great Fountain of love that embraces all human kind.Yes, great things had been achieved and won! Day and night beautiful Helga was absorbed in the contemplation of the great sum of her happiness, and stood in the contemplation of it like a child that turns hurriedly from the giver to gaze on the splendours of the gifts it has received. She seemed to lose herself in the increasing happiness, in contemplation of what might come, of what would come. Had she not been borne by miracle to greater and greater bliss? And in this idea she one day lost herself so completely, that she thought no more of the Giver. It was the exuberance of youthful courage, unfolding its wings for a bold flight! Her eyes were gleaming with courage, when suddenly a loud noise in the courtyard below recalled her thoughts from their wandering flight. There she saw two great ostriches running round rapidly in a narrow circle. Never before had she seen such creatures—great clumsy things they were, with wings that looked as if they had been clipped, and the birds themselves looking as if they had suffered violence of some kind; and now for the first time she heard the legend which the Egyptians tell of the ostrich.Once, they say, the ostriches were a beautiful, glorious race of birds, with strong large wings; and one evening the larger birds of the forest said to the ostrich, “Brother, shall we fly to-morrow, God willing, to the river to drink?” And the ostrich answered, “I will.” At daybreak, accordingly, they winged their flight from thence, flying first up on high, towards the sun, that gleamed like the eye of God—higher and higher, the ostrich far in advance of all the other birds. Proudly the ostrich flew straight towards the light, boasting of his strength, and not thinking of the Giver or saying, “God willing!” Then suddenly the avenging angel drew aside the veil from the flaming ocean of sunlight, and in a moment the wings of the proud bird were scorched and shrivelled up, and he sank miserably to the ground. Since that time, the ostrich has never again been able to raise himself in the air, but flees timidly along the ground, and runs round in a narrow circle. And this is a warning for us men, that in all our thoughts and schemes, in all our doings and devices, we should say, “God willing.” And Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and gravely, and looked at the circling ostrich, noticing its timid fear, and its stupid pleasure at sight of its own great shadow cast upon the white sunlit wall. And seriousness struck its roots deep into her mind and heart. A rich life in present and future happiness was given and won; and what was yet to come? the best of all, “God willing.”In early spring, when the storks flew again towards the North, beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelet, and scratched her name upon it; and beckoning to the stork-father, she placed the golden hoop around his neck, and begged him to deliver it to the Viking woman, so that the latter might see that her adopted daughter was well, and had not forgotten her.“That’s heavy to carry,” thought the stork-papa, when he had the golden ring round his neck; “but gold and honour are not to be flung into the street. The stork brings good fortune; they’ll be obliged to acknowledge that over yonder.”“You lay gold and I lay eggs,” said the stork-mamma. “But with you it’s only once in a way, whereas I lay eggs every year; but neither of us is appreciated—that’s very disheartening.”“Still one has one’s inward consciousness, mother,” replied stork-papa.“But you can’t hang that round your neck,” stork-mamma retorted; “and it won’t give you a good wind or a good meal.”The little nightingale, singing yonder in the tamarind tree, will soon be going north too. Helga the fair had often heard the sweet bird sing up yonder by the wild moor; now she wanted to give it a message to carry, for she had learned the language of birds when she flew in the swan’s plumage; she had often conversed with stork and with swallow, and she knew the nightingale would understand her. So she begged the little bird to fly to the beech wood, on the peninsula of Jutland, where the grave-hill had been reared with stones and branches, and begged the nightingale to persuade all other little birds that theymight build their nests around the place, so that the song of birds should resound over that sepulchre for evermore. And the nightingale flew away—and time flew away.a message to the viking woman.In autumn the eagle stood upon the pyramid and saw a stately train of richly laden camels approaching, and richly attired armed men on foaming Arab steeds, shining white as silver, with pink trembling nostrils, and great thick manes hanging down almost over their slender legs. Wealthy guests, a royal prince of Arabia, handsome as a prince should be, came into the proud mansion on whose roof the stork’s nests now stood empty: those who had inhabited the nest were away now, in the far north; but they would soon return. And, indeed, they returned on that very day that was so rich in joy and gladness. Here a marriage was celebrated, and fair Helga was the bride, shining in jewels and silk. The bridegroom was the young Arab prince, and bride and bridegroom sat together at the upper end of the table, between mother and grandfather.But her gaze was not fixed upon the bridegroom, with his manly sun-browned cheeks, round which a black beard curled; she gazed not at his dark fiery eyes that were fixed upon her—but far away at a gleaming star that shone down from the sky.Then strong wings were heard beating the air. The storks were coming home, and however tired the old stork pair might be from the journey, and however much they needed repose, they did not fail to come down at once to the balustrades of the verandah; for they knew what feast was being celebrated. Already on the frontier of the land they had heard that Helga had caused their figures to be painted on the wall—for did they not belong to her history?“That’s very pretty and suggestive,” said stork-papa.“But it’s very little,” observed stork-mamma. “They could not possibly have done less.”And when Helga saw them, she rose and came on to the verandah, to stroke the backs of the storks. The old pair waved their heads and bowed their necks, and even the youngest among the young ones felt highly honoured by the reception.And Helga looked up to the gleaming star, which seemed to glow purer and purer; and between the star and herself there floated a form, purer than the air, and visible through it: it floated quite close to her. It was the spirit of the dead Christian priest; he too was coming to her wedding feast—coming from heaven.“The glory and brightness yonder outshines everything that is known on earth!” he said.And fair Helga begged so fervently, so beseechingly, as she had never yet prayed, that it might be permitted her to gaze in there for one single moment, that she might be allowed to cast but a single glance into the brightness that beamed in the kingdom.Then he bore her up amid splendour and glory. Not only around her, but within her, sounded voices and beamed a brightness that words cannot express.“Now we must go back; thou wilt be missed,” he said.“Only one more look!” she begged. “But one short minute more!”“We must go back to the earth. The guests will all depart.”“Only one more look—the last.”And Helga stood again in the verandah; but the marriage lights without had vanished, and the lamps in the hall were extinguished, and the storks were gone—nowhere a guest to be seen—no bridegroom—all seemed to have been swept away in those few short minutes!Then a great dread came upon her. Alone she went through the empty great hall into the next chamber. Strange warriors slept yonder. She opened a side door which led into her own chamber; and, as she thought to step in there, she suddenly found herself in the garden; but yet it had not looked thus here before—the sky gleamed red—the morning dawn was come.Three minutes only in heaven and a whole night on earth had passed away!Then she saw the storks again. She called to them, spoke their language; and stork-papa turned his head towards her, listened to her words, and drew near.“You speak our language,” he said; “what do you wish? Why do you appear here—you, a strange woman?”“It is I—it is Helga—dost thou not know me? Three minutes ago we were speaking together yonder in the verandah!”“That’s a mistake,” said the stork; “you must have dreamt all that!”“No, no!” she persisted. And she reminded him of the Viking’s castle, and of the great ocean, and of the journey hither.Then stork-papa winked with his eyes, and said:“Why, that’s an old story, which I heard from the time of my great-grandfather. There certainly was here in Egypt a princess of that kind from the Danish land, but she vanished on the evening of her wedding-day, many hundred years ago, and never came back! You may read about it yourself yonder on the monument in the garden; there you’ll find swans and storks sculptured, and at the top you are yourself in white marble!”And thus it was. Helga saw it, and understood it, and sank on her knees.The sun burst forth in glory; and as, in time of yore, the frog-shape had vanished in its beams, and the beautiful form had stood displayed, so now in the light a beauteous form, clearer, purer than air—a beam of brightness—flew up into heaven!The body crumbled to dust; and a faded lotos-flower lay on the spot where Helga had stood.“Well, that’s a new ending to the story,” said stork-papa. “I had certainly not expected it. But I like it very well.”“But what will the young ones say to it?” said stork-mamma.“Yes, certainly, that’s the important point,” replied he.
A Kid climbed up on to the roof of an outhouse, attracted by the grass and other things that grew in the thatch; and as he stood there browsing away, he caught sight of a Wolf passing below, and jeered at him because he couldn’t reach him. The Wolf only looked up and said, “I hear you, my young friend; but it is not you who mock me, but the roof on which you are standing.”
There was once a king’s daughter who was so beautiful that nothing in the whole world could be compared with her. And because she was so beautiful they called her Princess Goldilocks; for her hair was finer than gold, wonderfully fair, and it fell in ringlets to her feet. Her only covering for her head was her curly hair and a garland of flowers; her dresses were embroidered with diamonds and pearls; and no one could look on her without loving her.In a neighbouring country there lived a young king who was not married, and who was very handsome and very rich. When the fame of fair Goldilocks reached him, before he had ever set eyes on her he was already so much in love that he could neither eat nor drink for thinking of her. He determined to send an ambassador to ask her hand in marriage. He had a magnificent coach made for the occasion; and, giving the ambassador more than a hundred horses and lackeys, he charged him well to bring the princess borne with him.When the ambassador had taken leave of the king and had gone away, no thing was spoken of at the court but his mission; and the king, who felt assured of Goldilock’s consent, had beautiful dresses made for her, and wonderful fittings for the palace. While the workmen were making preparations anent her coming, the ambassador reached her court and delivered his message. But whether she was not in a good humour that day, or whether the offer was not to her liking, she told the messenger that she thanked the king but that she had no desire to marry.The ambassador left the princess’s court very down-hearted at not being able to bring her home with him. He took back all the gifts the king had sent her; for she had been well brought up, and knew that girls should not accept Presents from boys. So she would not take the fine diamonds and all the rest of the things; but, so as not to give offence, she accepted a little packet of English pins.When the ambassador reached the king’s capital, where he was waited for with the greatest impatience, everybody was in deep distress because fair Goldilocks was not with him. The king began to cry like a child, and it was in vain they tried to comfort him. Now at the court was a young lad, who was fair as the day, and indeed in the whole kingdom there was no one so handsome. His charms and his ready wit earned him his name of Avenant. Everybody liked him except those who were jealous that the king showed him favour and made him his daily confidant.Avenant, hearing them speak of the ambassador’s return and of how his embassy had been in vain, said, without thinking very much what he was saying: “If the king had sent me to Princess Goldilocks I am sure she would have come back with me.” Then the mischief-makers hastened to the king and said to him: “Your majesty, what do you think Avenant has been saying?–That if you had sent him to the princess he would have brought her back! Who ever heard of such impudence? He thinks he is handsomer than you, and that she would have fallen so much in love with him that she would have followed him anywhere.” And now the king flew into such a furious passion that he lost all control of himself. “Ha! ha!” said he. “This spoilt monkey laughs at my misfortune! He thinks he is the better man! Go; shut him up in my great tower, and let him die of hunger.”The king’s guards went to fetch Avenant, who by this time had forgotten entirely what he had said, and dragged him to prison with all kinds of violence. The poor boy had only a miserable heap of straw for a bed; and he would have died had it not been for a little stream that flowed along through the bottom of the tower, and of which he drank a little to cool his mouth, which was parched by hunger.One day, when he was sighing in despair, he was saying, “What does the king blame me for? He has not a more loyal subject than myself, and I have never done him any harm,” the king passed hard by the tower. Hearing the voice of him whom he had loved so much, he stopped to listen, in spite of the efforts of those who were with him, who, hating Avenant, said: “Why does your majesty waste your time? Do you not know he is a rascal?” But the king answered: “Let me alone. I want to listen.” At the sound of his laments, tears filled the king’s eyes, and he opened the door of the tower and called him. Avenant came forward in deep distress, and, throwing himself on his knees and kissing the king’s feet, he said: “What have I done that your majesty should treat me so cruelly?” “You laughed at me and at my ambassador,” said the king. “You said that if I had sent you to the Princess Goldilocks you would have brought her back.” “It is true, your majesty,” replied Avenant, “that I should have made her so thoroughly realise your good qualities that I feel sure she would not have refused her consent, and in saying that I said nothing that should have displeased you.” The king saw that, after all, Avenant was in the right, and, looking with contempt on those who had slandered his favourite, took him away with him, deeply repenting all he had made him suffer.After having regaled him with a fine supper, he called him into his private room, and said: “Avenant, I am still in love with fair Goldilocks, but I don’t know what to do to gain her consent. I should like to send you to see if you could succeed.” Avenant replied that he was ready to obey him in everything, and that he would set out next day. “Ah,” said the king, “but I wish to have a fine equipage prepared for you.” “That is not needful,” he answered. “I want only a good horse and letters from you.” The king embraced him, so delighted was he with his eagerness to set out.It was on a Monday morning he took leave of the king and of his friends to go on his errand, all by himself quite simply and quietly. He did nothing but think of the means he would use to persuade Goldilocks to marry the king. In his pocket he carried a writing tablet, and when a pretty thought occurred to him for his speech, he got off his horse and sat down under the trees to write, so that it might not go out of his head. One morning he had set out at the first streak of day. While he was crossing a wide plain a very pretty conceit came into his head. So he alighted, and leaned up against the willow trees and poplars on the banks of the little spring that flowed by the side of the meadow. After he had written down his thought he was looking all round, delighted at being in such a beautiful spot, when he saw on the grass a great golden carp, panting, and at the last gasp. While trying to catch the little flies, it had jumped so far out of the water that it had fallen on the grass, and now it lay there like to die. Avenant was sorry for it; and though it was a fast-day, and he might well have taken it for his dinner, instead of doing so he put it back gently into the stream. As soon as Mother Carp touched the cool water she recovered her spirits. She let herself be carried down to the bottom; and then, coming gaily up to the surface again, she said: “Avenant, I thank you for the kindness you have just shown me. But for you I should have died. You have saved my life, and I shall do as much for you one day.” With these few words of good omen she plunged into the water, leaving Avenant in great astonishment at such intelligence and such politeness in a carp.Another day, when he was going on his way, he saw a crow in great distress. The poor bird was being pursued by a huge eagle. Now, eagles feed greedily on crows, and this one was just on the point of seizing his victim, whom he would have swallowed like a lentil, had not Avenant taken pity on the bird’s distress “There,” said he, “see how the strong oppress the weak. What right has the eagle to eat the crow?” With his bow and arrow, which he always carried with him, he took good aim at the eagle–and then, crack! he shot the arrow into its body and pierced it through and through. It fell dead; and the crow, in great glee, perched itself on a tree, saying: “Avenant, it was most generous of you to come to the aid of a poor crow like me. But I shall not be ungrateful. I’ll do as much for you one day.”Avenant, in some surprise at the gratitude of the crow, went on his way. Entering a large wood, while it was yet so early that he could hardly see his way, he heard despairing cries from an owl. “Dear me!” he said, “here is an owl in distress. It must have got caught in some nets.” Looking round on every side, at length he saw great nets that the fowlers had spread during the night to catch little birds. “How sad,” said he, “that men are only made to torment each other, or to persecute poor animals that do them no harm or injury of any kind!” So saying, he took out his knife and cut the cords. The owl sprang up, but came down again quickly to say: “Avenant, there is no need for many words on my part to make you understand the obligation I am under to you. It speaks for itself. The fowlers would have come and caught me, and without your aid I should have died. I have a grateful heart, and I shall do as much for you one day.”Such were the three adventures of any importance that happened to Avenant on his journey. He was so eager to reach his destination that he did not loiter on his way to the palace of fair Goldilocks. Everything there was wonderful to look at. There were diamonds lying in heaps as if they had been but stones. The dresses, the silver, the sweetmeats–everything was marvellous; and he thought to himself that if she left it all to come with him, his master, the king, would be very lucky. He put on a doublet of brocade, with pink and white feathers in his hat. He dressed and powdered his hair, and washed his face. Round his neck was tied an embroidered scarf, with a little basket attached, and in it a pretty little dog he had bought while passing through Boulogne. Avenant was so handsome, so beautiful to look on, all his movements were so full of grace, that when he presented himself at the palace gate the guards saluted him humbly, and sent in haste to announce to Princess Goldilocks that Avenant, ambassador from the king, her nearest neighbour, requested to see her.At the name of Avenant the princess said: “That name has a pleasant sound. I feel sure he is handsome, and that everybody likes him.” “You say truly, madam,” said all the maids-of-honour; “we saw him from the loft when we were arranging your flax, and all the time he was standing under the windows we couldn’t do anything but look at him.” “Well, that is a fine occupation,” replied fair Goldilocks, “to amuse yourselves by gazing at boys! Now then, I want my best embroidered blue satin gown. My fair hair must be curled. Let me have garlands of fresh flowers, and fetch my high-heeled shoes and my fan. And tell them to sweep out my room and my throne; for it is my desire that he shall tell everywhere that I am in truth fair Goldilocks.”And now all her maids made speed to dress her like a queen. They were in such a hurry that they knocked against each other and made but little progress. At last the princess passed into her gallery, with the great mirrors, to see if nothing were lacking in her appearance. Then she ascended her throne, made of gold and ivory and ebony, the scent of which was like balm, and she told her damsels to take instruments and to sing quite softly so that the sound might jar on no one’s ears.Avenant was led to the audience chamber, where he stood so dazzled with admiration that, as he has often said since then, he could hardly speak. Nevertheless he plucked up courage and delivered his speech beautifully, begging the princess that he might not have the disappointment of returning without her. “Gentle Avenant,” she said, “all the reasons which you have just given me are excellent, and I assure you I would most willingly do more for you than for another. But you must know that a month ago I was in a boat on the river with all my ladies, when, as they were serving me with luncheon, in taking off my glove, I slipped a ring from my finger, which unluckily fell into the river. It was more precious to me than my kingdom, and I leave you to judge what sorrow its loss caused me. I vowed never to listen to any proposal of marriage till the ambassador who brings it restores my ring. And now think what you have before you, for, were you to speak to me for fifteen days and fifteen nights, you could not persuade me to change my mind.”Avenant was much surprised at this answer. Making her a profound bow, he begged her to accept the little dog, the basket, and the scarf. But she said she wished for no gifts, and charged him to think of what she had just told him.Returning to his own dwelling, he went supperless to bed, and his little dog, Cabriole, would not eat anything either, and came and lay down beside him. All through the night Avenant never ceased his sighs. “How could I find a ring that fell into a great river a month ago?” he said. “It is nothing but folly to make the attempt. The princess only spoke of it to me to make it impossible for me to obey her.” And he sighed in deep distress. Cabriole, listening all the while, said: “My dear master, I beg you not to be down-hearted about your luck. You are too good not to be happy. Let us go as soon as it is day to the river-side.” Avenant stretched out his hand to pat him once or twice and returned no other answer. At last, quite overcome with his sorrow, he fell asleep.When daylight came Cabriole began to cut capers as soon as he awoke. “My master,” he said, “get dressed and come out.” Avenant had no objection. Getting up, he dressed and went down into the garden, and from the garden he turned his steps unconsciously to the river-side, where he walked along with his hat over his eyes and his arms crossed. All at once he heard a voice calling “Avenant, Avenant!” Looking all round, and seeing no one, he thought it must have been fancy. He went on walking, and again the voice called: “Avenant, Avenant!” “Who is calling me?” he said. Cabriole, who was very little and who was peering into the water, answered him: “Never again believe what I say if it is not a golden carp I see”. Then the big carp appeared and said to him: “You saved my life in the beam-tree meadow, where I should have remained a captive but for you. I promised to do as much for you one day. Well then, dear Avenant, here is fair Goldilock’s ring.” And Avenant, stooping down, took it out of Mistress Carp’s gullet, thanking her over and over again.Instead of going home he went straight to the palace with little Cabriole, who was very glad he had brought his master to the river-side. The princess was told he wished to see her. “Alas!” she said. “Poor boy! he is coming to bid me farewell. He thinks that what I ask is an impossibility, and he is going home to tell his master so.” Avenant, on being announced, presented the ring to her, saying: “Princess, I have fulfilled your command. Will it please you to accept the king, my master, as your husband?” When she saw the ring, the very ring she had lost, she was so astonished, so astonished, that she thought she must be dreaming. “In truth,” she said, “dear Avenant, you must be some fairy’s favourite, for by yourself it would have been impossible.” “Madam,” he answered, “I know no fairy, but I had a great wish to obey you.” “Then, since you are so willing,” she went on, “you must do me another service; otherwise, I shall never marry. Not far from here there is a prince called Galifron, who has taken it into his head that he wants to marry me. He announced his intention to me with fearful threats that, should I refuse, he would lay waste my kingdom. But could I accept him, think you? He is a giant, taller than a high tower, and thinks no more of eating a man than a monkey would think of eating a chestnut. When he goes to the country he carries little cannons in his pockets, which he uses instead of pistols, and when he speaks very loud those that are near him are struck deaf. I told him I did not wish to marry, and asked to be excused; yet, he has never left off persecuting me, and he kills all my subjects. The first thing to be done, therefore, is for you to fight him and to bring me his head.”Avenant was somewhat stunned by this proposal. He turned it over in his mind for a little while, and then said: “Well, madam, I shall fight against Galifron. I think I shall be beaten, but I shall die like a brave man.” The princess was much surprised, and told him all kinds of things to prevent his undertaking the enterprise, but in vain; so he withdrew in order to fetch his armour and all that should be necessary. When he had found all he wanted, he put little Cabriole in his basket, mounted his good horse, and set out for the country of Galifron. He questioned those he met on the way about the prince, and everybody told him he was a real demon, and no one dared go near him. The more he heard this, the more frightened did he become. Cabriole reassured him, saying: “My dear master, while you are fighting, I shall bite his legs. Then he will bend his head to chase me away, and you will kill him.” Avenant admired the little dog’s spirit, though he knew his help would not avail.At last he arrived near Galifron’s castle. All the roads were covered with the bones and the carcasses of the men he had eaten or torn to pieces. He did not have long to wait for him, for he saw him coming through a wood, his head over-topping the tallest trees, and heard him singing in a terrible voice:–“Ho, bring me for lunchFat babies to crunch;Not few and not lean,Or my appetite keenYou will not satisfy,So hungry am I!”Avenant immediately began to sing to the same air:“Here see Avenant standWith his spear in his hand,In humour defiantThough he isn’t a giant,For there’s never a doubtBut he’ll tear your teeth out”.The rhymes were not very regular, but then he had made the song in a great hurry, and it is a wonder it was not much worse even, so terribly afraid was he. When Galifron heard these words he looked all round and saw Avenant with his spear in his hand calling him names, one after the other, to make him angry. This was not necessary, for he flew into a terrible passion, and, taking a heavy bar of iron, would have felled Avenant with one stroke had not the crow perched itself on the top of his head, and, making a dart at his eyes, torn them out with its beak. The blood flowed down his face, and like a madman he struck out on all sides. Avenant parried the blows, and with great force he plunged his spear into the giant again and again up to the hilt, wounding him terribly, and causing him to fall from the blood he lost. Then he hacked off Galifron’s head, in great spirits at his good fortune, while the raven, who was perched on a tree, spoke thus: “I have not forgotten the service you did me in killing the eagle that pursued me. I promised to pay my debt, and I think I have done so to-day.” “It is I who am the debtor, Sir Raven,” replied Avenant, “and I remain your servant.” Then, putting the horrible head of Galifron on the horse, he rode away.When he reached the town everybody ran after him, crying: “Here comes brave Avenant, the slayer of the monster!” so that the princess, who heard the noise quite well, and who trembled lest they should come to tell her of the death of Avenant, did not dare to ask what had happened. But Avenant came in bearing the giants head, which still struck terror into her, although there was no longer cause for fear. “Madam,” he said, “your enemy is dead. I hope you will no longer refuse the king, my master.” “Yes, indeed, I will,” said fair Goldilocks. “I still refuse him, unless you are able, before I go away, to fetch me some water from the Dark Grotto. Near here there is a deep cavern fully six leagues in circumference. The entrance is barred by two dragons with fire coming out of their eyes and mouths. Once inside you have to go down into a great hole, full of toads and adders and serpents. At the bottom of this hole is a little cave through which there flows the stream of Beauty and of Health. A miracle happens to whoever washes with this water. If you are beautiful, you will always be so; if you are ugly, you grow fair. If you are young, you never grow any older; if you are old, you grow young. You can understand, Avenant, that I could not leave my kingdom without taking a supply of this water with me.”“Madam,” he answered, “you are already so beautiful that this water is altogether useless to you. But I am an unlucky ambassador, whose death you seek. I go to search for what you desire, well assured that I shall return no more.”Fair Goldilocks did not change her mind, and Avenant set out with his little dog Cabriole for the Dark Grotto to search for the water of Beauty. All who met him on the way said what a pity it was to see so fair a youth going recklessly to his death. “He goes to the grotto by himself, but were he to go a hundred strong he would never succeed. Why does the princess ask such impossible things?” Avenant went on his way, without saying a word, but he was sad at heart.When he had climbed to the top of a mountain he sat down to rest for a little, letting his horse graze and Cabriole run after the flies. He knew the Dark Grotto was not far off, and he looked to see if it were not in sight. At last he saw, first a hideous rock black as ink, out of which a thick smoke was coming, and after a moment one of the dragons that shot fire from their mouths and eyes. Its body was yellow and green. It had great claws, and a long tail curled into hundreds of twists. When Cabriole saw all this he was so terrified that he did not know where to hide.Avenant, quite resigned to death, drew his spear, and went down with a phial which the Princess Goldilocks had given him to fill with the water of Beauty. To his little dog Cabriole he said: “My end is near! I can never get that water which is guarded by the dragons. When I am dead fill this bottle with my blood, and take it to the princess that she may see what her errand has cost me. Then repair to the king, my master, and tell him of my unhappy fate.” While he was saying these words he heard a voice calling him: “Avenant, Avenant!” “Who is calling me?” he asked. He saw an owl in the hollow of an old tree, who said to him: “You extricated me from the fowlers’ nets in which I was caught, and you saved my life. I promised to do as much for you one day. Now the time has come. Give me your phial. I know all the paths through the Dark Grotto, and I will fetch the water of Beauty for you.” Here was good news for Avenant, as you may believe, and he gave him the bottle in haste. The owl entered the grotto without hindrance, and in less than a quarter of an hour he came back carrying the bottle well corked. Avenant, delighted, thanked him with all his heart, and, climbing the hill, again took the way to the town with a glad heart.Going straight to the palace, he presented the phial to fair Goldilocks, who had nothing more to say. She thanked Avenant, gave all the necessary orders for her departure, and then set out on her journey with him. He seemed to her very charming, and she would sometimes say: “If you had been willing I should have made you king, and need never have left my kingdom.” But he answered; “I would not do such a wrong to my master for all the kingdoms of the earth, though I think you lovelier than the sun.”At last they reached the capital, where the king, knowing that the Princess Goldilocks was coming, came to meet her with the fairest gifts in the world. Such great rejoicing was there at their wedding that nothing else was spoken of. But fair Goldilocks, who at the bottom of her heart loved Avenant, was never happy but when she saw him, and his praises were ever on her tongue. “I should never have been here had it not been for Avenant,” she said to the king. “He had to perform impossible feats for me, and you owe him a great deal. He gave me the water of Beauty, so I shall never grow old, and I shall be beautiful for ever.”Envious people, listening to the queen’s words, said to the king: “You are not jealousy but you have good reason to be. The queen is so much in love with Avenant that she can neither eat nor drink. She does nothing but speak of him and of the obligations you are under to him, as if anyone else whom you might have sent would not have done as much.” “I believe you are right,” said the king. “Let him be cast into the tower, and irons put on his feet and hands.” There Avenant saw no one but the gaoler, who used to throw him a bit of black bread through a hole, and give him some water in an earthen dish, but his little dog Cabriole stayed with him to comfort him, and brought him all the news.When fair Goldilocks heard of Avenant’s disgrace she threw herself at the king’s feet, and, weeping bitterly, begged him to let Avenant go free. But the more she pleaded the more angry grew the king, thinking that she loved Avenant. He would not relent, so she stopped speaking of the matter, but her heart was very sad.It occurred to the king that Perhaps she did not think him handsome enough, and he had a strong desire to rub his face with the water of Beauty, in order that the queen might love him better that she did at present. This water stood in the bottle on the edge of the mantelshelf in the queen’s room. She had put it there so that she might the oftener look at it. But one of the housemaids when killing a spider with a broom, unfortunately knocked clown the bottle, which was broken and all the water spilt. She swept away the traces quickly, and, at her wits’ end what to do, she remembered that she had seen in the king’s private room a bottle just like it, full of a clear liquid like the water of Beauty. Without saying a word to anybody, she managed to get hold of it, and placed it on the queen’s mantelshelf.Now the water in the king’s room was for causing the death of princes and great lords when they had committed crimes. Instead of beheading or hanging them, their faces were rubbed with this water, and they fell asleep and woke no more. One evening, therefore, the king took the bottle and rubbed his face well with the contents. Then he fell asleep, and he died. The little dog Cabriole was the first to learn what had happened, and did not fail to go and tell Avenant, who asked him to go to Princess Goldilocks and beg her to take thought of the poor prisoner.Cabriole slipped quietly through the crowd, for there was great confusion at the court owing to the king’s death. “Madam,” he said to the queen, “do not forget poor Avenant.” She bethought herself of the sufferings he had undergone on her account, and of his great faithfulness. Without saying a word to anyone, she went out and made straight for the tower, where, with her own hands, she took off the irons from Avenant’s hands and feet. Then, placing a golden crown on his head and the royal robes on his shoulders, she said: “Come, dear Avenant, I make you a king, and take you for my husband”. Throwing himself at her feet, he poured out his gratitude. Everyone was delighted to own him for their master. Never was there such a wedding feast, and the Princess Goldilocks and fair Avenant lived long together in peace and happiness.
Sigurd went to war: with the men that King Alv gave him he marched into the country that was ruled over by the slayer of his father. The war that he waged was short and the battles that he won were not perilous. Old was King Lygni now, and feeble was his grasp upon his people. Sigurd slew him and took away his treasure and added his lands to the lands of King Alv.But Sigurd was not content with the victory he had gained. He had dreamt of stark battles and of renown that would be hardily won. What was the war he had waged to the wars that Sigmund his father, and Volsung his father’s father, had waged in their days? Not content was Sigurd. He led his men back by the hills from the crests of which he could look upon the Dragon’s haunts. And having come as far as those hills he bade his men return to King Alv’s hall with the spoils he had won.They went, and Sigurd stayed upon the hills and looked across Gnita Heath to where Fafnir the Dragon had his lair. All blasted and wasted was the Heath with the fiery breath of the Dragon. And he saw the cave where Fafnir abode, and he saw the track that his comings and goings made. For every day the Dragon left his cave in the cliffs, crossing the Heath to come to the River at which he drank.For the length of a day Sigurd watched from the hills the haunt of the Dragon. In the evening he saw him lengthening himself out of the cave, and coming on his track across the Heath, in seeming like a ship that travels swiftly because of its many oars.Then to Regin in his smithy he came. To that cunning man Sigurd said:“Tell me all thou dost know of Fafnir the Dragon.”Regin began to talk, but his speech was old and strange and filled with runes. When he had spoken it all Sigurd said, “All thou hast told me thou wilt have to say over again in a speech that is known to men of our day.”Then said Regin: “Of a hoard I spoke. The Dwarf Andvari guarded it from the first days of the world. But one of the Æsir forced Andvari to give the hoard to him, masses of gold and heaps of jewels, and the Æsir gave it to Hreidmar, who was my father.“For the slaying of his son Otter the Æsir gave the hoard to Hreidmar, the greatest hoard that had ever been seen in the world. But not long was it left to Hreidmar to gloat over. For a son slew a father that he might possess that hoard. Fafnir, that son was Fafnir, my brother.“Then Fafnir, that no one might disturb his possession of the hoard, turned himself into a Dragon, a Dragon so fearful that none dare come nigh him. And I, Regin, was stricken with covetousness of the hoard. I did not change myself into another being, but, by the magic my father knew, I made my life longer than the generations of men, hoping that I would see Fafnir slain and then have the mighty hoard under my hands.“Now, son of the Volsungs, thou dost know all that has to do with Fafnir the Dragon, and the great hoard that he guards.”“Little do I care about the hoard he guards,” Sigurd said. “I care only that he has made the King’s good lands into a waste and that he is an evil thing to men. I would have the renown of slaying Fafnir the Dragon.”“With Gram, the sword thou hast, thou couldst slay Fafnir,” Regin cried, his body shaken with his passion for the hoard. “Thou couldst slay him with the sword thou hast. Harken now and I will tell thee how thou mightst give him the deathly stroke through the coils of his mail. Harken, for I have thought of it all.“The track of the Dragon to the River is broad, for he takes ever the one track. Dig a pit in the middle of that track, and when Fafnir comes over it strike up into his coils of mail with Gram, thy great sword. Gram only may pierce that mail. Then will Fafnir be slain and the hoard will be left guardless.”“What thou sayst is wise, Regin,” Sigurd answered. “We will make this pit and I will strike Fafnir in the way thou sayst.”Then Sigurd went and he rode upon Grani, his proud horse, and he showed himself to King Alv and to Hiordis, his mother. Afterwards he went with Regin to the Heath that was the haunt of the Dragon, and in his track they dug a pit for the slaying of Fafnir.And, lest his horse should scream aloud at the coming of the Dragon, Sigurd had Grani sent back to a cave in the hills. It was Regin that brought Grani away. “I am fearful and can do nothing to help thee, son of the Volsungs,” he said. “I will go away and await the slaying of Fafnir.”He went, and Sigurd lay down in the pit they had made and practiced thrusting upward with his sword. He lay with his face upward and with his two hands he thrust the mighty sword upward.But as he lay there he bethought of a dread thing that might happen; namely, that the blood and the venom of the Dragon might pour over him as he lay there, and waste him flesh and bone. When he thought of this Sigurd hastened out of the pit, and he dug other pits near by, and he made a passage for himself from one pit to the other that he might escape from the flow of the Dragon’s envenomed blood.As he lay down again in the pit he heard the treading of the Dragon and he heard the Dragon’s strange and mournful cry. Mightily the Dragon came on and he heard his breathing. His shape came over the pit. Then the Dragon held his head and looked down on Sigurd.It was the instant for him to make stroke with Gram. He did not let the instant pass. He struck mightily under the shoulder and toward the heart of the beast. The sword went through the hard and glittering scales that were the creature’s mail. Sigurd pulled out the sword and drew himself through the passage and out into the second pit as Fafnir’s envenomed blood drenched where he had been.Drawing himself up out of the second pit he saw the huge shape of Fafnir heaving and lashing. He came to him and thrust his sword right through the Dragon’s neck. The Dragon reared up as though to fling himself down on Sigurd with all his crushing bulk and dread talons, with his fiery breath and his envenomed blood. But Sigurd leaped aside and ran far off. Then did Fafnir scream his death scream. After he had torn up rocks with his talons he lay prone on the ground, his head in the pit that was filled with his envenomed blood.Then did Regin, hearing the scream that let him know that Fafnir was slain, come down to where the battle had been fought. When he saw that Sigurd was alive and unharmed he uttered a cry of fury. For his plan had been to have Sigurd drowned and burnt in the pit with the stream of Fafnir’s envenomed blood.But he mastered his fury and showed a pleased countenance to Sigurd. “Now thou wilt have renown,” he cried. “Forever wilt thou be called Sigurd, Fafnir’s Bane. More renown than ever any of thy fathers had wilt thou have, O Prince of the Volsungs.”So he spoke, saying fair words to him, for now that he was left alive there was something he would have Sigurd do.“Fafnir is slain,” Sigurd said, “and the triumph over him was not lightly won. Now may I show myself to King Alv and to my mother, and the gold from Fafnir’s hoard will make me a great spoil.”“Wait,” said Regin cunningly. “Wait. Thou hast yet to do something for me. With the sword thou hast, cut through the Dragon and take out his heart for me. When thou hast taken it out, roast it that I may eat of it and become wiser than I am. Do this for me who showed thee how to slay Fafnir.”Sigurd did what Regin would have him do. He cut out the heart of the Dragon and he hung it from stakes to roast. Regin drew away and left him. As Sigurd stood before the fire putting sticks upon it there was a great silence in the forest.He put his hand down to turn an ashen branch into the heart of the fire. As he did a drop from the roasting Dragon-heart fell upon his hand. The drop burnt into him. He put his hand to his mouth to ease the smart, and his tongue tasted the burning blood of the Dragon.He went to gather wood for the fire. In a clearing that he came to there were birds; he saw four on a branch together. They spoke to each other in birds’ notes, and Sigurd heard and knew what they were saying.Said the first bird: “How simple is he who has come into this dell! He has no thought of an enemy, and yet he who was with him but a while ago has gone away that he may bring a spear to slay him.”“For the sake of the gold that is in the Dragon’s cave he would slay him,” said the second bird.And the third bird said: “If he would eat the Dragon’s heart himself he would know all wisdom.”But the fourth bird said: “He has tasted a drop of the Dragon’s blood and he knows what we are saying.”The four birds did not fly away nor cease from speaking. Instead they began to tell of a marvelous abode that was known to them.Deep in the forest, the birds sang, there was a Hall that was called the House of Flame. Its ten walls were Uni, Iri, Barri, Ori, Varns, Vegdrasil, Derri, Uri, Dellinger, Atvarder, and each wall was built by the Dwarf whose name it bore. All round the Hall there was a circle of fire through which none might pass. And within the Hall a maiden slept, and she was the wisest and the bravest and the most beautiful maiden in the world.Sigurd stood like a man enchanted listening to what the birds sang.But suddenly they changed the flow of their discourse, and their notes became sharp and piercing.“Look, look!” cried one. “He is coming against the youth.”“He is coming against the youth with a spear,” cried another.“Now will the youth be slain unless he is swift,” cried a third.Sigurd turned round and he saw Regin treading the way toward him, grim and silent, with a spear in his hands. The spear would have gone through Sigurd had he stayed one instant longer in the place where he had been listening to the speech of the birds. As he turned he had his sword in his hand, and he flung it, and Gram struck Regin on the breast.Then Regin cried out: “I die—I die without having laid my hands on the hoard that Fafnir guarded. Ah, a curse was upon the hoard, for Hreidmar and Fafnir and I have perished because of it. May the curse of the gold now fall on the one who is my slayer.”Then did Regin breathe out his life. Sigurd took the body and cast it into the pit that was alongside the dead Fafnir. Then, that he might eat the Dragon’s heart and become the wisest of men, he went to where he had left it roasting. And he thought that when he had eaten the heart he would go into the Dragon’s cave and carry away the treasure that was there, and bring it as spoil of his battle to King Alv and to his mother. Then he would go through the forest and find the House of Flame where slept the maiden who was the wisest and bravest and most beautiful in the world.But Sigurd did not eat the Dragon’s heart. When he came to where he had left it roasting he found that the fire had burnt it utterly.
In ancient times a giant was once travelling on a great highway, when suddenly an unknown man sprang up before him, and said, “Halt, not one step farther!” “What!” cried the giant, “a creature whom I can crush between my fingers, wants to block my way? Who art thou that thou darest to speak so boldly?” “I am Death,” answered the other. “No one resists me, and thou also must obey my commands. But the giant refused, and began to struggle with Death. It was a long, violent battle, at last the giant got the upper hand, and struck Death down with his fist, so that he dropped by a stone. The giant went his way, and Death lay there conquered, and so weak that he could not get up again. “What will be done now,” said he, “if I stay lying here in a corner? No one will die now in the world, and it will get so full of people that they won’t have room to stand beside each other.” In the meantime a young man came along the road, who was strong and healthy, singing a song, and glancing around on every side. When he saw the half-fainting one, he went compassionately to him, raised him up, poured a strengthening draught out of his flask for him, and waited till he came round. “Dost thou know,” said the stranger, whilst he was getting up, “who I am, and who it is whom thou hast helped on his legs again?” “No,” answered the youth, “I do not know thee.” “I am Death,” said he. “I spare no one, and can make no exception with thee, but that thou mayst see that I am grateful, I promise thee that I will not fall on thee unexpectedly, but will send my messengers to thee before I come and take thee away.” “Well,” said the youth, “it is something gained that I shall know when thou comest, and at any rate be safe from thee for so long.” Then he went on his way, and was light-hearted, and enjoyed himself, and lived without thought. But youth and health did not last long, soon came sicknesses and sorrows, which tormented him by day, and took away his rest by night. “Die, I shall not,” said he to himself, “for Death will send his messengers before that, but I do wish these wretched days of sickness were over.” As soon as he felt himself well again he began once more to live merrily. Then one day some one tapped him on the shoulder. He looked round, and Death stood behind him, and said, “Follow me, the hour of thy departure from this world has come.” “What,” replied the man, “wilt thou break thy word? Didst thou not promise me that thou wouldst send thy messengers to me before coming thyself? I have seen none!” “Silence!” answered Death. “Have I not sent one messenger to thee after another? Did not fever come and smite thee, and shake thee, and cast thee down? Has dizziness not bewildered thy head? Has not gout twitched thee in all thy limbs? Did not thine ears sing? Did not tooth-ache bite into thy cheeks? Was it not dark before thine eyes? And besides all that, has not my own brother Sleep reminded thee every night of me? Didst thou not lie by night as if thou wert already dead?” The man could make no answer; he yielded to his fate, and went away with Death.
Long ago, down where Two Medicine and Badger Creeks come together, there lived an old man. He had but one wife and two daughters. One day there came to his camp a young man who was very brave and a great hunter. The old man said: “Ah! I will have this young man to help me. I will give him my daughters for wives.” So he gave him his daughters. He also gave this son-in-law all his wealth, keeping for himself only a little lodge, in which he lived with his old wife. The son-in-law lived in a lodge that was big and fine.At first the son-in-law was very good to the old people. Whenever he killed anything, he gave them part of the meat, and furnished plenty of robes and skins for their bedding and clothing. But after a while he began to be very mean to them.Now the son-in-law kept the buffalo hidden under a big log jam in the river. Whenever he wanted to kill anything, he would have the old man go to help him; and the old man would stamp on the log jam and frighten the buffalo, and when they ran out, the young man would shoot one or two, never killing wastefully. But often he gave the old people nothing to eat, and they were hungry all the time, and began to grow thin and weak.One morning, the young man called his father-in-law to go down to the log jam and hunt with him. They started, and the young man killed a fat buffalo cow. Then he said to the old man, “Hurry back now, and tell your children to get the dogs and carry this meat home, then you can have something to eat.” And the old man did as he had been ordered, thinking to himself: “Now, at last, my son-in-law has taken pity on me. He will give me part of this meat.” When he returned with the dogs, they skinned the cow, cut up the meat and packed it on the dog travois, and went home. Then the young man had his wives unload it, and told his father-in-law to go home. He did not give him even a piece of liver. Neither would the older daughter give her parents anything to eat, but the younger took pity on the old people and stole a piece of meat, and when she got a chance threw it into the lodge to the old people. The son-in-law told his wives not to give the old people anything to eat. The only way they got food was when the younger woman would throw them a piece of meat unseen by her husband and sister.Another morning, the son-in-law got up early, and went and kicked on the old man’s lodge to wake him, and called him to get up and help him, to go and pound on the log jam to drive out the buffalo, so that he could kill some. When the old man pounded on the jam, a buffalo ran out, and the son-in-law shot it, but only wounded it. It ran away, but at last fell down and died. The old man followed it, and came to where it had lost a big clot of blood from its wound. When he came to where this clot of blood was lying on the ground, he stumbled and fell, and spilled his arrows out of his quiver; and while he was picking them up, he picked up also the clot of blood, and hid it in his quiver. “What are you picking up?” called out the son-in-law. “Nothing,” said the old man; “I just fell down and spilled my arrows, and am putting them back.” “Curse you, old man,” said the son-in-law, “you are lazy and useless. Go back and tell your children to come with the dogs and get this dead buffalo.” He also took away his bow and arrows from the old man.The old man went home and told his daughters, and then went over to his own lodge, and said to his wife: “Hurry now, and put the kettle on the fire. I have brought home something from the butchering.” “Ah!” said the old woman, “has our son-in-law been generous, and given us something nice?” “No,” answered the old man; “hurry up and put the kettle on.” When the water began to boil, the old man tipped his quiver up over the kettle, and immediately there came from the pot a noise as of a child crying, as if it were being hurt, burnt or scalded. They looked in the kettle, and saw there a little boy, and they quickly took it out of the water. They were very much surprised. The old woman made a lashing to put the child in, and then they talked about it. They decided that if the son-in-law knew that it was a boy, he would kill it, so they resolved to tell their daughters that the baby was a girl. Then he would be glad, for he would think that after a while he would have it for a wife. They named the child Kŭt-o´-yis (Clot of Blood).The son-in-law and his wives came home, and after a while he heard the child crying. He told his youngest wife to go and find out whether that baby was a boy or a girl; if it was a boy, to tell them to kill it. She came back and told them that it was a girl. He did not believe this, and sent his oldest wife to find out the truth of the matter. When she came back and told him the same thing, he believed that it was really a girl. Then he was glad, for he thought that when the child had grown up he would have another wife. He said to his youngest wife, “Take some pemmican over to your mother; not much, just enough so that there will be plenty of milk for the child.”Now on the fourth day the child spoke, and said, “Lash me in turn to each one of these lodge poles, and when I get to the last one, I will fall out of my lashing and be grown up.” The old woman did so, and as she lashed him to each lodge pole he could be seen to grow, and finally when they lashed him to the last pole, he was a man. After Kŭt-o´-yis had looked about the inside of the lodge, he looked out through a hole in the lodge covering, and then, turning round, he said to the old people: “How is it there is nothing to eat in this lodge? I see plenty of food over by the other lodge.” “Hush up,” said the old woman, “you will be heard. That is our son-in-law. He does not give us anything at all to eat.” “Well,” said Kŭt-o´-yis, “where is your pis´kun?” The old woman said, “It is down by the river. We pound on it and the buffalo come out.”Then the old man told him how his son-in-law abused him. “He has taken my weapons from me, and even my dogs; and for many days we have had nothing to eat, except now and then a small piece of meat our daughter steals for us.”“Father,” said Kŭt-o´-yis, “have you no arrows?” “No, my son,” he replied; “but I have yet four stone points.”“Go out then and get some wood,” said Kŭt-o´-yis. “We will make a bow and arrows. In the morning we will go down and kill something to eat.”Early in the morning Kŭt-o´-yis woke the old man, and said, “Come, we will go down now and kill when the buffalo come out.” When they had reached the river, the old man said: “Here is the place to stand and shoot. I will go down and drive them out.” As he pounded on the jam, a fat cow ran out, and Kŭt-o´-yis killed it.Meantime the son-in-law had gone out, and as usual knocked on the old man’s lodge, and called to him to get up and go down to help him kill. The old woman called to him that her husband had already gone down. This made the son-in-law very angry. He said: “I have a good mind to kill you right now, old woman. I guess I will by and by.”The son-in-law went on down to the jam, and as he drew near, he saw the old man bending over, skinning a buffalo. “Old man,” said he, “stand up and look all around you. Look well, for it will be your last look.” Now when he had seen the son-in-law coming, Kŭt-o´-yis had lain down and hidden himself behind the buffalo’s carcass. He told the old man to say to his son-in-law, “You had better take your last look, for I am going to kill you, right now.” The old man said this. “Ah!” said the son-in-law, “you make me angrier still, by talking back to me.” He put an arrow to his bow and shot at the old man, but did not hit him. Kŭt-o´-yis told the old man to pick up the arrow and shoot it back at him, and he did so. Now they shot at each other four times, and then the old man said to Kŭt-o´-yis: “I am afraid now. Get up and help me.” So Kŭt-o´-yis got up on his feet and said: “Here, what are you doing? I think you have been badly treating this old man for a long time.”Then the son-in-law smiled pleasantly, for he was afraid of Kŭt-o´-yis. “Oh, no,” he said, “no one thinks more of this old man than I do. I have always taken great pity on him.”Then Kŭt-o´-yis said: “You lie. I am going to kill you now.” He shot him four times, and the man died. Then Kŭt-o´-yis told the old man to go and bring down the daughter who had acted badly toward him. He did so, and Kŭt-o´-yis killed her. Then he went up to the lodges and said to the younger woman, “Perhaps you loved your husband.” “Yes,” she said, “I love him.” So he killed her, too. Then he said to the old people: “Go over there now, and live in that lodge. There is plenty there to eat, and when it is gone I will kill more. As for myself, I will make a journey around about. Where are there any people? In what direction?” “Well,” said the old man, “up above here on Badger Creek and Two Medicine, where the pis´kun is, there are some people.”Kŭt-o´-yis went up to where the pis´kun was, and saw there many lodges of people. In the centre of the camp was a large lodge, with a figure of a bear painted on it. He did not go into this lodge, but went into a very small one near by, where two old women lived; and when he went in, he asked them for something to eat. They set before him some lean dried meat and some belly fat. “How is this?” he asked. “Here is a pis´kun with plenty of fat meat and back fat. Why do you not give me some of that?” “Hush,” said the old women. “In that big lodge near by, lives a big bear and his wives and children. He takes all those nice things and leaves us nothing. He is the chief of this place.”Early in the morning, Kŭt-o´-yis told the old women to get their dog travois, and harness it, and go over to the pis´kun, and that he was going to kill for them some fat meat. He reached there just about the time the buffalo were being driven in, and shot a cow, which looked very scabby, but was really very fat. Then he helped the old women to butcher, and when they had taken the meat to camp, he said to them, “Now take all the choice fat pieces, and hang them up so that those who live in the bear lodge will notice them.”They did this, and pretty soon the old chief bear said to his children: “Go out now, and look around. The people have finished killing by this time. See where the nicest pieces are, and bring in some nice back fat.” A young bear went out of the lodge, stood up and looked around, and when it saw this meat close by, at the old women’s lodge, it went over and began to pull it down. “Hold on there,” said Kŭt-o´-yis. “What are you doing here, taking the old women’s meat?” and he hit him over the head with a stick that he had. The young bear ran home crying, and said to his father, “A young man has hit me on the head.” Then all the bears, the father and mother, and uncles and aunts, and all the relations, were very angry, and all rushed out toward the old women’s lodge.Kŭt-o´-yis killed them all, except one little child bear, a female, which escaped. “Well,” said Kŭt-o´-yis, “you can go and breed bears, so there will be more.”Then said Kŭt-o´-yis to the old women: “Now, grandmothers, where are there any more people? I want to travel around and see them.” The old women said: “The nearest ones are at the point of rocks (on Sun River). There is a pis´kun there.” So Kŭt-o´-yis travelled off toward this place, and when he reached the camp, he entered an old woman’s lodge.The old woman set before him a plate of bad food. “How is this?” he asked. “Have you nothing better than this to set before a stranger? You have a pis´kun down there, and must get plenty of fat meat. Give me some pemmican.” “We cannot do that,” the old woman replied, “because there is a big snake here, who is chief of the camp. He not only takes the best pieces, but often he eats a handsome young woman, when he sees one.” When Kŭt-o´-yis heard this he was angry, and went over and entered the snake’s lodge. The women were cooking up some sarvis berries. He picked up the dish, and ate the berries, and threw the dish out of the door. Then he went over to where the snake was lying asleep, pricked him with his knife, and said: “Here, get up. I have come to see you.” This made the snake angry. He partly raised himself up and began to rattle, when Kŭt-o´-yis cut him into pieces with his knife. Then he turned around and killed all his wives and children, except one little female snake, which escaped by crawling into a crack in the rocks. “Oh, well,” said Kŭt-o´-yis, “you can go and breed young snakes, so there will be more. The people will not be afraid of little snakes.” Kŭt-o´-yis said to the old woman, “Now you go into this snake’s lodge and take it for yourself, and everything that is in it.”Then he asked them where there were some more people. They told him that there were some people down the river, and some up in the mountains. But they said: “Do not go there, for it is bad, because Ai-sin´-o-ko-ki (Wind Sucker) lives there. He will kill you.” It pleased Kŭt-o´-yis to know that there was such a person, and he went to the mountains. When he got to the place where Wind Sucker lived, he looked into his mouth, and could see many dead people there,—some skeletons and some just dead. He went in, and there he saw a fearful sight. The ground was white as snow with the bones of those who had died. There were bodies with flesh on them; some were just dead, and some still living. He spoke to a living person, and asked, “What is that hanging down above us?” The person answered that it was Wind Sucker’s heart. Then said Kŭt-o´-yis: “You who still draw a little breath, try to shake your heads (in time to the song), and those who are still able to move, get up and dance. Take courage now, we are going to have the ghost dance.” So Kŭt-o´-yis bound his knife, point upward, to the top of his head and began to dance, singing the ghost song, and all the others danced with him; and as he danced up and down, the point of the knife cut Wind Sucker’s heart and killed him. Kŭt-o´-yis took his knife and cut through Wind Sucker’s ribs, and freed those who were able to crawl out, and said to those who could still travel to go and tell their people that they should come here for the ones who were still alive but unable to walk.Then he asked some of these people: “Where are there any other people? I want to visit all the people.” They said to him: “There is a camp to the westward up the river, but you must not take the left-hand trail going up, because on that trail lives a woman, a handsome woman, who invites men to wrestle with her and then kills them. You must avoid her.” This was what Kŭt-o´-yis was looking for. This was his business in the world, to kill off all the bad things. So he asked the people just where this woman lived, and asked where it was best to go to avoid her. He did this, because he did not wish the people to know that he wanted to meet her.He started on his way, and at length saw this woman standing by the trail. She called out to him, “Come here, young man, come here; I want to wrestle with you.” “No,” replied the young man, “I am in a hurry. I cannot stop.” But the woman called again, “No, no, come now and wrestle once with me.” When she had called him four times, Kŭt-o´-yis went up to her. Now on the ground, where this woman wrestled with people, she had placed many broken and sharp flints, partly hiding them by the grass. They seized each other, and began to wrestle over these broken flints, but Kŭt-o´-yis looked at the ground and did not step on them. He watched his chance, and suddenly gave the woman a wrench, and threw her down on a large sharp flint, which cut her in two; and the parts of her body fell asunder.Then Kŭt-o´-yis went on, and after a while came to where a woman kept a sliding place; and at the far end of it there was a rope, which would trip people up, and when they were tripped, they would fall over a high cliff into deep water, where a great fish would eat them. When this woman saw him coming, she cried out, “Come over here, young man, and slide with me.” “No,” he replied, “I am in a hurry.” She kept calling him, and when she had called the fourth time, he went over to slide with her. “This sliding,” said the woman, “is a very pleasant pastime.” “Ah!” said Kŭt-o´-yis, “I will look at it.” He looked at the place, and, looking carefully, he saw the hidden rope. So he started to slide, and took out his knife, and when he reached the rope, which the woman had raised, he cut it, and when it parted, the woman fell over backward into the water, and was eaten up by the big fish.Again he went on, and after a while he came to a big camp. This was the place of a man-eater. Kŭt-o´-yis called a little girl he saw near by, and said to her: “Child, I am going into that lodge to let that man-eater kill and eat me.Watch close, therefore, and when you can get hold of one of my bones, take it out and call all the dogs, and when they have all come up to you, throw it down and cry out, ‘Kŭt-o´-yis, the dogs are eating your bones!'”Then Kŭt-o´-yis entered the lodge, and when the man-eater saw him, he cried out, “O’ki, O’ki,” and seemed glad to see him, for he was a fat young man. The man-eater took a large knife, and went up to Kŭt-o´-yis, and cut his throat, and put him into a great stone kettle to cook. When the meat was cooked, he drew the kettle from the fire, and ate the body, limb by limb, until it was all eaten up.Then the little girl, who was watching, came up to him, and said, “Pity me, man-eater, my mother is hungry and asks you for those bones.” So the old man bunched them up together and handed them to her. She took them out, and called all the dogs to her, and threw the bones down to the dogs, crying out, “Look out, Kŭt-o´-yis; the dogs are eating you!” and when she said that, Kŭt-o´-yis arose from the pile of bones.Again he went into the lodge, and when the man-eater saw him, he cried out, “How, how, how! the fat young man has survived,” and seemed surprised. Again he took his knife and cut Kŭt-o´-yis’ throat, and threw him into the kettle. Again, when the meat was cooked, he ate it up, and again the little girl asked for the bones, which he gave her; and, taking them out, she threw them to the dogs, crying, “Kŭt-o´-yis, the dogs are eating you!” and Kŭt-o´-yis again arose from the bones.When the man-eater had cooked him four times, he again went into the lodge, and, seizing the man-eater, he threw him into the boiling kettle, and his wives and children too, and boiled them to death.The man-eater was the seventh and last of the bad animals and people who were destroyed by Kŭt-o´-yis.
“Well, little one,” said a Tree to a Reed that was growing at its foot, “why do you not plant your feet deeply in the ground, and raise your head boldly in the air as I do?” “I am contented with my lot,” said the Reed. “I may not be so grand, but I think I am safer.” “Safe!” sneered the Tree. “Who shall pluck me up by the roots or bow my head to the ground?” But it soon had to repent of its boasting, for a hurricane arose which tore it up from its roots, and cast it a useless log on the ground, while the little Reed, bending to the force of the wind, soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over. Obscurity often brings safety.
Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters; one of them was beautiful and industrious, the other ugly and lazy. The mother, however, loved the ugly and lazy one best, because she was her own daughter, and so the other, who was only her stepdaughter, was made to do all the work of the house, and was quite the Cinderella of the family.{Listen to Mother Holle plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for Apple and Android devices}Her stepmother sent her out every day to sit by the well in the high road, there to spin until she made her fingers bleed. Now it chanced one day that some blood fell on to the spindle, and as the girl stopped over the well to wash it off, the spindle suddenly sprang out of her hand and fell into the well. She ran home crying to tell of her misfortune, but her stepmother spoke harshly to her, and after giving her a violent scolding, said unkindly, ’As you have let the spindle fall into the well you may go yourself and fetch it out.’The girl went back to the well not knowing what to do, and at last in her distress she jumped into the water after the spindle.She remembered nothing more until she awoke and found herself in a beautiful meadow, full of sunshine, and with countless flowers blooming in every direction.She walked over the meadow, and presently she came upon a baker’s oven full of bread, and the loaves cried out to her, ’Take us out, take us out, or alas! we shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through long ago.’ So she took the bread-shovel and drew them all out.She went on a little farther, till she came to a free full of apples. ’Shake me, shake me, I pray,’ cried the tree; ’my apples, one and all, are ripe.’ So she shook the tree, and the apples came falling down upon her like rain; but she continued shaking until there was not a single apple left upon it. Then she carefully gathered the apples together in a heap and walked on again.The next thing she came to was a little house, and there she saw an old woman looking out, with such large teeth, that she was terrified, and turned to run away. But the old woman called after her, ’What are you afraid of, dear child? Stay with me; if you will do the work of my house properly for me, I will make you very happy. You must be very careful, however, to make my bed in the right way, for I wish you always to shake it thoroughly, so that the feathers fly about; then they say, down there in the world, that it is snowing; for I am Mother Holle.’ The old woman spoke so kindly, that the girl summoned up courage and agreed to enter into her service.She took care to do everything according to the old woman’s bidding and every time she made the bed she shook it with all her might, so that the feathers flew about like so many snowflakes. The old woman was as good as her word: she never spoke angrily to her, and gave her roast and boiled meats every day.So she stayed on with Mother Holle for some time, and then she began to grow unhappy. She could not at first tell why she felt sad, but she became conscious at last of great longing to go home; then she knew she was homesick, although she was a thousand times better off with Mother Holle than with her mother and sister. After waiting awhile, she went to Mother Holle and said, ’I am so homesick, that I cannot stay with you any longer, for although I am so happy here, I must return to my own people.’Then Mother Holle said, ’I am pleased that you should want to go back to your own people, and as you have served me so well and faithfully, I will take you home myself.’Thereupon she led the girl by the hand up to a broad gateway. The gate was opened, and as the girl passed through, a shower of gold fell upon her, and the gold clung to her, so that she was covered with it from head to foot.’That is a reward for your industry,’ said Mother Holle, and as she spoke she handed her the spindle which she had dropped into the well.The gate was then closed, and the girl found herself back in the old world close to her mother’s house. As she entered the courtyard, the cock who was perched on the well, called out:’Cock-a-doodle-doo!Your golden daughter’s come back to you.’Then she went in to her mother and sister, and as she was so richly covered with gold, they gave her a warm welcome. She related to them all that had happened, and when the mother heard how she had come by her great riches, she thought she should like her ugly, lazy daughter to go and try her fortune. So she made the sister go and sit by the well and spin, and the girl pricked her finger and thrust her hand into a thorn-bush, so that she might drop some blood on to the spindle; then she threw it into the well, and jumped in herself.Like her sister she awoke in the beautiful meadow, and walked over it till she came to the oven. ’Take us out, take us out, or alas! we shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through long ago,’ cried the loaves as before. But the lazy girl answered, ’Do you think I am going to dirty my hands for you?’ and walked on.Presently she came to the apple-tree. ’Shake me, shake me, I pray; my apples, one and all, are ripe,’ it cried. But she only answered, ’A nice thing to ask me to do, one of the apples might fall on my head,’ and passed on.At last she came to Mother Holle’s house, and as she had heard all about the large teeth from her sister, she was not afraid of them, and engaged herself without delay to the old woman.The first day she was very obedient and industrious, and exerted herself to please Mother Holle, for she thought of the gold she should get in return. The next day, however, she began to dawdle over her work, and the third day she was more idle still; then she began to lie in bed in the mornings and refused to get up. Worse still, she neglected to make the old woman’s bed properly, and forgot to shake it so that the feathers might fly about. So Mother Holle very soon got tired of her, and told her she might go. The lazy girl was delighted at this, and thought to herself, ’The gold will soon be mine.’ Mother Holle led her, as she had led her sister, to the broad gateway; but as she was passing through, instead of the shower of gold, a great bucketful of pitch came pouring over her.’That is in return for your services,’ said the old woman, and she shut the gate.So the lazy girl had to go home covered with pitch, and the cock on the well called out as she saw her:’Cock-a-doodle-doo!Your dirty daughter’s come back to you.’But, try what she would, she could not get the pitch off and it stuck to her as long as she lived.
A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was very exacting and jealous. ‘You don’t do half as much for me as I do for you,’ he used to say, ‘and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship. Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry, give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn’t do that!’‘Let us see,’ answered the Partridge; ‘follow me at a little distance, and if I don’t make you laugh soon you may eat me!’So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind the other. They were both footsore and weary, and the first carried his bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in his hand.Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller’s stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on, but the second traveller, seeing the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself,‘What a chance for a supper!’ and immediately flung his shoes at it, they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the shoes knocked off the first traveller’s turban.‘What a plague do you mean?’ cried he, angrily turning on his companion. ‘Why did you throw your shoes at my head?’‘Brother!’ replied the other mildly, ‘do not be vexed. I didn’t throw them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.’‘On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?’ shouted the injured man, in a great rage. ‘Don’t tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult me, and then you lie like a coward; but I’ll teach you manners!’Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of laughing.‘Are you satisfied?’ asked the Partridge of her friend.‘Well,’ answered the Jackal, ‘you have certainly made me laugh, but I doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is more difficult to excite the higher emotions.’‘Let us see,’ retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; ‘there is a huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that hollow tree and watch me: if you don’t weep scalding tears, you must have no feeling in you!’The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts’ content, and finally left him for dead.By and by he opened his eyes—for he was only foxing—and saw thePartridge sitting on a branch above him.‘Did you cry?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Did I rouse your higher emo—’‘Be quiet, will you!’ snarled the Jackal; ‘I’m half dead with fear!’So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.‘Now is the time for friendship!’ said he to the Partridge. ‘Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend.’‘Very well!’ replied the Partridge; ‘only watch me, and help yourself when the time comes.’Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands’ dinners to the harvest-field.The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded.‘A wounded bird!—a wounded bird!’ cried the women; ‘we can easily catch it!’Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with a good dinner.‘Are you satisfied now?’ asked the Partridge.‘Well,’ returned the Jackal, ‘I confess you have given me a very good dinner; you have also made me laugh—and cry—ahem! But, after all, the great test of friendship is beyond you—you couldn’t save my life!’‘Perhaps not,’ acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, ‘I am so small and weak. But it grows late—we should be going home; and as it is a long way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the crocodile will carry us over.’Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the Partridge remarked, ‘I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!’‘Awkward for you too!’ replied the Jackal, turning pale.‘Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven’t.’On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal, the wretched creature hadn’t a word to say.‘Pooh!’ cried the Partridge airily, ‘don’t try tricks on us,—I should fly away, and as for my friend the Jackal, you couldn’t hurt him. He is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little excursions; he leaves it at home, locked up in the cupboard.’‘Is that a fact?’ asked the crocodile, surprised.‘Certainly!’ retorted the Partridge. ‘Try to eat him if you like, but you will only tire yourself to no purpose.’‘Dear me! how very odd!’ gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.‘Well, are you satisfied now?’ asked the Partridge.‘My dear madam!’ quoth the Jackal, ‘you have made me laugh, you have made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend; so, good-bye!’And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.
There was once upon a time an old king who was ill, and thought to himself, “I am lying on what must be my death-bed.” Then said he, “Tell Faithful John to come to me.” Faithful John was his favourite servant, and was so called, because he had for his whole life long been so true to him. When therefore he came beside the bed, the King said to him, “Most faithful John, I feel my end approaching, and have no anxiety except about my son. He is still of tender age, and cannot always know how to guide himself. If you do not promise me to teach him everything that he ought to know, and to be his foster-father, I cannot close my eyes in peace.” Then answered Faithful John, “I will not forsake him, and will serve him with fidelity, even if it should cost me my life.” On this, the old King said, “Now I die in comfort and peace.” Then he added, “After my death, you shall show him the whole castle: all the chambers, halls, and vaults, and all the treasures which lie therein, but the last chamber in the long gallery, in which is the picture of the princess of the Golden Dwelling, you shall not show. If he sees that picture, he will fall violently in love with her, and will drop down in a swoon, and go through great danger for her sake, therefore you must preserve him from that.” And when Faithful John had once more given his promise to the old King about this, the King said no more, but laid his head on his pillow, and died.When the old King had been carried to his grave, Faithful John told the young King all that he had promised his father on his deathbed, and said, “This will I assuredly perform, and will be faithful to you as I have been faithful to him, even if it should cost me my life.” When the mourning was over, Faithful John said to him, “It is now time that you should see your inheritance. I will show you your father’s palace.” Then he took him about everywhere, up and down, and let him see all the riches, and the magnificent apartments, only there was one room which he did not open, that in which hung the dangerous picture. The picture was, however, so placed that when the door was opened you looked straight on it, and it was so admirably painted that it seemed to breathe and live, and there was nothing more charming or more beautiful in the whole world. The young king, however plainly remarked that Faithful John always walked past this one door, and said, “Why do you never open this one for me?” “There is something within it,” he replied, “which would terrify you.” But the King answered, “I have seen all the palace, and I will know what is in this room also,” and he went and tried to break open the door by force. Then Faithful John held him back and said, “I promised your father before his death that you should not see that which is in this chamber, it might bring the greatest misfortune on you and on me.”“Ah, no,” replied the young King, “if I do not go in, it will be my certain destruction. I should have no rest day or night until I had seen it with my own eyes. I shall not leave the place now until you have unlocked the door.”Then Faithful John saw that there was no help for it now, and with a heavy heart and many sighs, sought out the key from the great bunch. When he had opened the door, he went in first, and thought by standing before him he could hide the portrait so that the King should not see it in front of him, but what availed that? The King stood on tip-toe and saw it over his shoulder. And when he saw the portrait of the maiden, which was so magnificent and shone with gold and precious stones, he fell fainting to the ground. Faithful John took him up, carried him to his bed, and sorrowfully thought, “The misfortune has befallen us, Lord God, what will be the end of it?” Then he strengthened him with wine, until he came to himself again. The first words the King said were, “Ah, the beautiful portrait! whose is it?” “That is the princess of the Golden Dwelling,” answered Faithful John. Then the King continued, “My love for her is so great, that if all the leaves on all the trees were tongues, they could not declare it. I will give my life to win her. You are my most Faithful John, you must help me.”The faithful servant considered within himself for a long time how to set about the matter, for it was difficult even to obtain a sight of the King’s daughter. At length he thought of a way, and said to the King, “Everything which she has about her is of gold tables, chairs, dishes, glasses, bowls, and household furniture. Among your treasures are five tons of gold; let one of the goldsmiths of the kingdom work these up into all manner of vessels and utensils, into all kinds of birds, wild beasts and strange animals, such as may please her, and we will go there with them and try our luck.”The King ordered all the goldsmiths to be brought to him, and they had to work night and day until at last the most splendid things were prepared. When everything was stowed on board a ship, Faithful John put on the dress of a merchant, and the King was forced to do the same in order to make himself quite unrecognizable. Then they sailed across the sea, and sailed on until they came to the town wherein dwelt the princess of the Golden Dwelling.Faithful John bade the King stay behind on the ship, and wait for him. “Perhaps I shall bring the princess with me,” said he, “therefore see that everything is in order; have the golden vessels set out and the whole ship decorated.” Then he gathered together in his apron all kinds of gold things, went on shore and walked straight to the royal palace. When he entered the courtyard of the palace, a beautiful girl was standing there by the well with two golden buckets in her hand, drawing water with them. And when she was just turning round to carry away the sparkling water she saw the stranger, and asked who he was. So he answered, “I am a merchant,” and opened his apron, and let her look in. Then she cried, “Oh, what beautiful gold things!” and put her pails down and looked at the golden wares one after the other. Then said the girl, “The princess must see these, she has such great pleasure in golden things, that she will buy all you have.” She took him by the hand and led him upstairs, for she was the waiting-maid. When the King’s daughter saw the wares, she was quite delighted and said, “They are so beautifully worked, that I will buy them all of thee.” But Faithful John said, “I am only the servant of a rich merchant. The things I have here are not to be compared with those my master has in his ship. They are the most beautiful and valuable things that have ever been made in gold.” She wanted to have everything brought to her there, but he said, “There are so many of them that it would take a great many days to do that, and so many rooms would be required to exhibit them, that your house is not big enough.” Then her curiosity and longing were still more excited, until at last she said, “Conduct me to the ship, I will go there myself, and behold the treasures of your master.”On this Faithful John was quite delighted, and led her to the ship, and when the King saw her, he perceived that her beauty was even greater than the picture had represented it to be, and thought no other than that his heart would burst in two. Then she got into the ship, and the King led her within. Faithful John, however, remained behind with the pilot, and ordered the ship to be pushed off, saying, “Set all sail, till it fly like a bird in air.” Within, however, the King showed her the golden vessels, every one of them, also the wild beasts and strange animals. Many hours went by while she was seeing everything, and in her delight she did not observe that the ship was sailing away. After she had looked at the last, she thanked the merchant and wanted to go home, but when she came to the side of the ship, she saw that it was on the deep sea far from land, and hurrying onwards with all sail set. “Ah,” cried she in her alarm, “I am betrayed! I am carried away and have fallen into the power of a merchant I would die rather!” The King, however, seized her hand, and said, “I am not a merchant. I am a king, and of no meaner origin than you are, and if I have carried youaway with subtlety, that has come to pass because of my exceeding great love for you. The first time that I looked on thy portrait, I fell fainting to the ground.” When the princess of the Golden Dwelling heard that, she was comforted, and her heart was inclined unto him, so that she willingly consented to be his wife.It happened, however, while they were sailing onwards over the deep sea, that Faithful John, who was sitting on the fore part of the vessel, making music, saw three ravens in the air, which came flying towards them. On this he stopped playing and listened to what they were saying to each other, for that he well understood. One cried, “Oh, there he is carrying home the princess of the Golden Dwelling.” “Yes,” replied the second, “but he has not got her yet.” Said the third, “But he has got her, she is sitting beside him in the ship.” Then the first began again, and cried, “What good will that do him? When they reach land, a chestnut horse will leap forward to meet him, and the prince will want to mount it, but if he does that, it will run away with him, and rise up into the air with him, and he will never see his maiden more.” Said the second, “But is there no escape?”“Oh, yes, if any one else gets on it swiftly, and takes out the pistol which must be in its holster, and shoots the horse dead with it, the young King is saved. But who knows that? And whoever does know it, and tells it to him, will be turned to stone from the toe to the knee.” Then said the second, “I know more than that; even if the horse be killed, the young King will still not keep his bride. When they go into the castle together, a wrought bridal garment will be lying there in a dish, and looking as if it were woven of gold and silver; it is, however, nothing but sulphur and pitch, and if he put it on, it will burn him to the very bone and marrow.” Said the third, “Is there no escape at all?”“Oh, yes,” replied the second, “if any one with gloves on seizes the garment and throws it into the fire and burns it, the young King will be saved. But what avails that? Whosoever knows it and tells it to him, half his body will become stone from the knee to the heart.”Then said the third, “I know still more; even if the bridal garment be burnt, the young King will still not have his bride. After the wedding, when the dancing begins and the young Queen is dancing, she will suddenly turn pale and fall down as if dead, and if some one does not lift her up and draw three drops of blood from her right breast and spit them out again, she will die. But if any one who knows that were to declare it, he would become stone from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot.” When the ravens had spoken of this together, they flew onwards, and Faithful John had well understood everything, but from that time forth he became quiet and sad, for if he concealed what he had heard from his master, the latter would be unfortunate, and if he discovered it to him, he himself must sacrifice his life. At length, however, he said to himself, “I will save my master, even if it bring destruction on myself.”When therefore they came to shore, all happened as had been foretold by the ravens, and a magnificent chestnut horse sprang forward. “Good,” said the King, “he shall carry me to my palace,” and was about to mount it when Faithful John got before him, jumped quickly on it, drew the pistol out of the holster, and shot the horse. Then the other attendants of the King, who after all were not very fond of Faithful John, cried, “How shameful to kill the beautiful animal, that was to have carried the King to his palace!” But the King said, “Hold your peace and leave him alone, he is my most faithful John, who knows what may be the good of that!” They went into the palace, and in the hall there stood a dish, and therein lay the bridal garment looking no otherwise than as if it were made of gold and silver. The young king went towards it and was about to take hold of it, but Faithful John pushed him away, seized it with gloves on, carried it quickly to the fire and burnt it. The other attendants again began to murmur, and said, “Behold, now he is even burning the King’s bridal garment!” But the young King said, “Who knows what good he may have done, leave him alone, he is my most faithful John.”And now the wedding was solemnized: the dance began, and the bride also took part in it; then Faithful John was watchful and looked into her face, and suddenly she turned pale and fell to the ground as if she were dead. On this he ran hastily to her, lifted her up and bore her into a chamber then he laid her down, and knelt and sucked the three drops of blood from her right breast, and spat them out. Immediately she breathed again and recovered herself, but the young King had seen this, and being ignorant why Faithful John had done it, was angry and cried, “Throw him into a dungeon.” Next morning Faithful John was condemned, and led to the gallows, and when he stood on high, and was about to be executed, he said, “Every one who has to die is permitted before his end to make one last speech; may I too claim the right?” “Yes,” answered the King, “it shall be granted to you.” Then said Faithful John, “I am unjustly condemned, and have always been true to you,” and related how he had hearkened to the conversation of the ravens when on the sea, and how he had been obliged to do all these things in order to save his master. Then cried the King, “Oh, my most Faithful John. Pardon, pardon bring him down.” But as Faithful John spoke the last word, he fell down lifeless and become a stone.Thereupon the King and the Queen suffered great anguish, and the King said, “Ah, how ill I have requited great fidelity!” and ordered the stone figure to be taken up and placed in his bedroom beside his bed. And as often as he looked on it he wept and said, “Ah, if I could bring thee to life again, my most faithful John.” Some time passed and the Queen bore twins, two sons who grew fast and were her delight. Once when the Queen was at church and the two children were sitting playing beside their father, the latter full of grief again looked at the stone figure, sighed and said, “Ah, if I could but bring you to life again, my most faithful John.” Then the stone began to speak and said, “You can bring me to life again if you will use for that purpose what is dearest to you.” Then cried the King, “I will give everything I have in the world for thee.” The stone continued, “If you will will cut off the heads of your two children with your own hand, and sprinkle me with their blood, I shall be restored to life.”The King was terrified when he heard that he himself must kill his dearest children, but he thought of faithful John’s great fidelity, and how he had died for him, drew his sword, and with his own hand cut off the children’s heads. And when he had smeared the stone with their blood, life returned to it, and Faithful John stood once more safe and healthy before him. He said to the King, “Thy truth shall not go unrewarded,” and took the heads of the children, put them on again, and rubbed the wounds with their blood, on which they became whole again immediately, and jumped about, and went on playing as if nothing had happened. Then the King was full of joy, and when he saw the Queen coming, he hid Faithful John and the two children in a great cupboard. When she entered, he said to her, “Have you been praying in the church?” “Yes,” answered she, “but I have constantly been thinking of Faithful John and what misfortune has befallen him through us.” Then said he, “Dear wife, we can give him his life again, but it will cost us our two little sons, whom we must sacrifice.” The Queen turned pale, and her heart was full of terror, but she said, “We owe it to him, for his great fidelity.” Then the King was rejoiced that she thought as he had thought, and went and opened the cupboard, and brought forth Faithful John and the children, and said, “God be praised, he is delivered, and we have our little sons again also,” and told her how everything had occurred. Then they lived together in much happiness until their death.
A Traveller, exhausted with fatigue after a long journey, sank down at the very brink of a deep well and presently fell asleep. He was within an ace of falling in, when Dame Fortune appeared to him and touched him on the shoulder, cautioning him to move further away. “Wake up, good sir, I pray you,” she said; “had you fallen into the well, the blame would have been thrown not on your own folly but on me, Fortune.”
Eastern traditions concerning Hiawatha differ in many respects from those of the West. In the East he is known as Glooskap, god of the Passamaquoddies, and his marks are left in many places in the maritime provinces and Maine. It was he who gave names to things, created men, filled them with life, and moved their wonder with storms. He lived on the rocky height of Blomidon, at the entrance to Minas Basin, Nova Scotia, and the agates to be found along its foot are jewels that he made for his grandmother’s necklace, when he restored her youth. He threw up a ridge between Fort Cumberland and Parrsboro, Nova Scotia, that he might cross, dry shod, the lake made by the beavers when they dammed the strait at Blomidon, but he afterward killed the beavers, and breaking down their dam he let the lake flow into the sea, and went southward on a hunting tour. At Mount Desert he killed a moose, whose bones he flung to the ground at Bar Harbor, where they are still to be seen, turned to stone, while across the bay he threw the entrails, and they, too, are visible as rocks, dented with his arrow-points. Mount Kineo was anciently a cow moose of colossal size that he slew and turned into a height of land, and the Indians trace the outline of the creature in the uplift to this day. Little Kineo was a calf moose that he slew at the same time, and Kettle Mountain is his camp-caldron that he flung to the ground in the ardor of the chase.
Once upon a time there was a man and a wife had too many children, and they could not get meat for them, so they took the three youngest and left them in a wood. They travelled and travelled and could see never a house. It began to be dark, and they were hungry. At last they saw a light and made for it; it turned out to be a house. They knocked at the door, and a woman came to it, who said: “What do you want?” They said: “Please let us in and give us something to eat.” The woman said: “I can’t do that, as my man is a giant, and he would kill you if he comes home.” They begged hard. “Let us stop for a little while,” said they, “and we will go away before he comes.” So she took them in, and set them down before the fire, and gave them milk and bread; but just as they had begun to eat a great knock came to the door, and a dreadful voice said: “Fee, fie, fo, fum,I smell the blood of some earthly one.Who have you there wife?” “Eh,” said the wife, “it’s three poor lassies cold and hungry, and they will go away. Ye won’t touch ’em, man.” He said nothing, but ate up a big supper, and ordered them to stay all night. Now he had three lassies of his own, and they were to sleep in the same bed with the three strangers.The youngest of the three strange lassies was called Molly Whuppie, and she was very clever. She noticed that before they went to bed, the giant put straw ropes round her neck and her sisters’, and round his own lassies’ necks he put gold chains. So Molly took care and did not fall asleep, but waited till she was sure every one was sleeping sound. Then she slipped out of the bed, and took the straw ropes off her own and her sisters’ necks, and took the gold chains off the giant’s lassies. She then put the straw ropes on the giant’s lassies and the gold on herself and her sisters, and lay down.And in the middle of the night up rose the giant, armed with a great club, and felt for the necks with the straw. It was dark. He took his own lassies out of bed on to the floor, and battered them until they were dead, and then lay down again, thinking he had managed fine. Molly thought it time she and her sisters were out of that, so she wakened them and told them to be quiet, and they slipped out of the house. They all got out safe, and they ran and ran, and never stopped until morning, when they saw a grand house before them. It turned out to be a king’s house: so Molly went in, and told her story to the king. He said: “Well, Molly, you are a clever girl, and you have managed well; but, if you would manage better, and go back, and steal the giant’s sword that hangs on the back of his bed, I would give your eldest sister my eldest son to marry.” Molly said she would try.So she went back, and managed to slip into the giant’s house, and crept in below the bed. The giant came home, and ate up a great supper, and went to bed. Molly waited until he was snoring, and she crept out, and reached over the giant and got down the sword; but just as she got it out over the bed it gave a rattle, and up jumped the giant, and Molly ran out at the door and the sword with her; and she ran, and he ran, till they came to the “Bridge of one hair”; and she got over, but he couldn’t, and he says, “Woe worth ye, Molly Whuppie! never ye come again.” And she says “Twice yet, carle,” quoth she, “I’ll come to Spain.” So Molly took the sword to the king, and her sister was married to his son.Well, the king he says: “Ye’ve managed well, Molly; but if ye would manage better, and steal the purse that lies below the giant’s pillow, I would marry your second sister to my second son.” And Molly said she would try. So she set out for the giant’s house, and slipped in, and hid again below the bed, and waited till the giant had eaten his supper, and was snoring sound asleep. She slipped out, and slipped her hand below the pillow, and got out the purse; but just as she was going out the giant wakened, and ran after her; and she ran, and he ran, till they came to the “Bridge of one hair,” and she got over, but he couldn’t, and he said, “Woe worth ye, Molly Whuppie! never you come again.” “Once yet, carle,” quoth she, “I’ll come to Spain.” So Molly took the purse to the king, and her second sister was married to the king’s second son.After that the king says to Molly: “Molly, you are a clever girl, but if you would do better yet, and steal the giant’s ring that he wears on his finger, I will give you my youngest son for yourself.” Molly said she would try. So back she goes to the giant’s house, and hides herself below the bed. The giant wasn’t long ere he came home, and, after he had eaten a great big supper, he went to his bed, and shortly was snoring loud. Molly crept out and reached over the bed, and got hold of the giant’s hand, and she pulled and she pulled until she got off the ring; but just as she got it off the giant got up, and gripped her by the hand, and he says: “Now I have catcht you, Molly Whuppie, and, if I had done as much ill to you as ye have done to me, what would ye do to me?”Molly says: “I would put you into a sack, and I’d put the cat inside with you, and the dog aside you, and a needle and thread and a shears, and I’d hang you up upon the wall, and I’d go to the wood, and choose the thickest stick I could get, and I would come home, and take you down, and bang you till you were dead.”“Well, Molly,” says the giant, “I’ll just do that to you.”So he gets a sack, and puts Molly into it, and the cat and the dog beside her, and a needle and thread and shears, and hangs her up upon the wall, and goes to the wood to choose a stick.Molly she sings out: “Oh, if ye saw what I see.”“Oh,” says the giant’s wife, “what do ye see, Molly?”But Molly never said a word but, “Oh, if ye saw what I see!”The giant’s wife begged that Molly would take her up into the sack till she would see what Molly saw. So Molly took the shears and cut a hole in the sack, and took out the needle and thread with her, and jumped down and helped, the giant’s wife up into the sack, and sewed up the hole.The giant’s wife saw nothing, and began to ask to get down again; but Molly never minded, but hid herself at the back of the door. Home came the giant, and a great big tree in his hand, and he took down the sack, and began to batter it. His wife cried, “It’s me, man;” but the dog barked and the cat mewed, and he did not know his wife’s voice. But Molly came out from the back of the door, and the giant saw her, and he after her; and he ran and she ran, till they came to the “Bridge of one hair,” and she got over but he couldn’t; and he said, “Woe worth you, Molly Whuppie! never you come again.” “Never more, carle,” quoth she, “will I come again to Spain.”So Molly took the ring to the king, and she was married to his youngest son, and she never saw the giant again.
Long, long ago, before there was a moon in the sky, there lived two beautiful maidens who loved each other dearly. One was called by a name that meant Shining-Eyes, and the other by a name that meant Rippling-Hair.Shining-Eyes had heard a great deal about the Fire-that-never-goes-out. She often talked to Rippling-Hair about it. “It is kept in one of the underworlds,” she said. “Fierce spirits guard it day and night. If we could bring it away we should obtain the Life-that-never-dies. Think of it. Unending Life! What a gift that would be to the world!”One day she said, “Will you come with me to look for it?”“The journey is too dangerous,” cried Rippling- Hair. “Besides, there are those terrible spirits! We should never return alive.”“Wait! I have a plan,” said Shining-Eyes. We might take a basket of kumaras to the spirits. While they eat the sweet earth-fruits we can snatch away a fire-stick and run off with it.”“But they would catch us.”“I think not. We are both swift runners, and we should have a good start.”“Our fathers may not let us go.”“We need not say where we are going, nor mention the dangers of the journey. It will be enough to say that we wish to take a little trip together.”Rippling-Hair still looked doubtful, but Shining- Eyes took her hands and looked into her eyes. ” I am going, dear friend,” she said. “I have thought of it night and day until I must go. I cannot give it up. But you—do not come if your heart fails you. I do not wish to lead you into danger.”“Where you go I shall go—you know that!” cried Rippling-Hair.“Then come with me to find the Fire-that-never-goes-out,” laughed Shining-Eyes, “for that is where I am going.”“I will come,” said Rippling-Hair, though she trembled at the thought. Afterwards, when the real dangers came, she forgot her fears and went through everything as bravely as Shining- Eyes herself.They obtained the consent of their parents to leave home, made all their arrangements as if for a short visit to a neighbouring village, and started off, taking with them food for themselves on the way and a basket of kumaras for the spirits. At first the track was pleasant enough. It led over a sunny plain and past a gently-flowing river. But when they came to the dark bush- lands their troubles began. Every tree and bramble, every bird and insect in the bush, knew why Shining-Eyes and Rippling-Hair were travelling north, and they all tried to turn them back from the death they risked.The tall trees interlocked their boughs to shut out the sun and make the pathway dark. “You will lose your way. Turn back before it is too late,” they sighed. And many times the two girls lost their way.“Turn back before it is too late,” said the brambles, the thorny wait-a-bits. They caught the friends, holding them with their curved claws, and tearing their hands and faces till they bled.“Turn back before it is too late,” piped the birds and insects. They stole what food they could when the maidens were not watching, so that hunger should drive them back to safety.But Shining-Eyes and Rippling-Hair would not be turned back. Although after many days their sufferings had weakened them so sorely that they fell at the foot of a great tree-fern and could not rise, they did not lose heart. All their food was gone except the basket of kumaras for the spirits, they were footsore, and numb with weariness, but they said: “We shall sleep and wake up strengthened. We must not, will not give in.”From among the fronds of the tree-fern peeped the kindly faces of watching forest fairies. They heard the brave words, and saw the worn-out girls drop off to sleep. “Let us help them,” said one. “The bush has done its best to stop them, but they will not be stopped. Perhaps their courage will carry them safely to their journey’s end.”They trooped down from the tree-fern, carried the sleepers to the fairy palace, and laid them on beds of softest down to dream the night away. In the morning they brought magic foods and drinks that took away all pain and weariness.The two girls, strong and well once more, went on their way with grateful, happy hearts. Leaving the bush behind, they came into the mountain-land. The mountains put forth all their terrors to turn them back from death. Little hills raised themselves into mountains to tire their feet, mountains stretched themselves almost to the sky. The girls went on as if nothing had happened ; the hills and mountains, seeing this, fell back again to their old size, and the girls climbed over them with ease. Sometimes great rocks sprang suddenly into their path; deep clefts opened before their feet; mountain storms roared about their heads ; once a mountain giant chased them.But they neither faltered nor turned back, and at last the mountains said, “Leave them alone. Their courage will carry them safely through to their purpose.”They came at last to the end of the land. Below them lay the sea, above them towered a beautiful tree with crimson flowers. They stood on the edge of the cliff and looked at the twisted roots that led from the tree down the face of the rock to the beach below.“The tree is called Spray-Sprinkled,” said Shining-Eyes. ” Between its lowest roots lies the opening to the underworld. To that higher point above us come each night the souls of those who have died during the day. There they pause once to sigh, then fling themselves below to enter that dark underworld. If we can save our friends from death and this sad end, our sufferings on the way have been worth while.”Through the night they rested. When the morning broke they descended by the roots and found the opening to the underworld. A narrow passage, dark as night, led into the earth. Trembling, they entered in, groping their slow way with beating hearts. After a long time a gleam of light shone out in front. They walked faster. Coming to the end of the passage, they peeped out. Before them lay a wide open plain, lit by a fire made of three sticks crossed. In front of the fire sat three fierce old spirits. “The Fire-that-never-goes-out! ” whispered Shining-Eyes. “Give me the kumaras.”Silently as they could the girls approached the fire. But the spirits heard their steps. “Mortals!” they shrieked, starting up in anger.Shining-Eyes held out the basket of kumaras. “See,” she said, ” we have brought you these earth-fruits. You have none so sweet down here.”Astonished at her boldness, the spirits took the kumaras and crowded round to taste them. Stooping, Shining-Eyes snatched a fire-stick from the ground and flew with Rippling-Hair towards the entrance to the passage. They had almost reached the entrance when screams of rage behind them told them that their trick was discovered. “Quick, oh, quick!” breathed Shining-Eyes.Up the long passage, now lit by the flaming stick, they fled with desperate swiftness. Behind them came the spirits, gaining on them with every step. “If only we can keep the lead till we reach the opening,” panted Rippling-Hair in front. “Ah, here it is. We are saved.”She sprang through the opening, turned, and grasped her friend’s hand to pull her through. But at that moment one of the spirits reached Shining-Eyes and seized her heel. “I am held,” gasped Shining-Eyes.She struggled wildly, while Rippling-Hair pulled with all her strength. They could not free her heel. “Drop the fire-stick and give me both hands/” Rippling-Hair whispered. ” Drop it, or you will be pulled back, and that means death.” “I will not lose it. It is unending life! cried Shining-Eyes. With one tremendous effort she hurled it far into the sky.Seizing the freed hand, Rippling-Hair jerked her friend out of the spirit’s grasp on to the sandy beach above the opening. The spirits dared not come above the ground. They fled back through the passage, screaming with rage at the loss of their cherished stick.The girls lay panting on the beach, their eyes directed to the flaming stick. From where Shining-Eyes had flung it, it whirled higher and yet higher, faster and faster, until it whirled itself into a ball. Rangi looked down and saw it coming. He put out his hand and caught it, and fitted it into a niche in the sky. Calling the North Wind, he gave him a message for the girls.“Tell them,” he said, “that unending life is not for the people of the earth. But tell them also that their brave deed is not lost, for the Fire- that-never-goes-out shall stay in the sky to give light when the sun is away. Through it I can look down upon the Earth-mother at night; by its light men shall see to walk when otherwise it would be dark. Let the maidens return to their homes, knowing that for ever men will bless them for the good deed they have done.”The girls listened to the message and were comforted for the loss of the stick. They retraced their steps, arriving home in safety to relate their doings to their friends. astonished, but they saw the new great light in the sky, so they believed the girls and loved them for their noble courage. And the great light still shines on in the sky. Men call it the Moon.
There was once upon a time a good man who had two children: a girl by a first wife, and a boy by the second. The girl was as white as milk, and her lips were like cherries. Her hair was like golden silk, and it hung to the ground. Her brother loved her dearly, but her wicked stepmother hated her. “Child,” said the stepmother one day, “go to the grocer’s shop and buy me a pound of candles.” She gave her the money; and the little girl went, bought the candles, and started on her return. There was a stile to cross. She put down the candles whilst she got over the stile. Up came a dog and ran off with the candles.She went back to the grocer’s, and she got a second bunch. She came to the stile, set down the candles, and proceeded to climb over. Up came the dog and ran off with the candles.She went again to the grocer’s, and she got a third bunch; and just the same happened. Then she came to her stepmother crying, for she had spent all the money and had lost three bunches of candles.The stepmother was angry, but she pretended not to mind the loss. She said to the child: “Come, lay your head on my lap that I may comb your hair.” So the little one laid her head in the woman’s lap, who proceeded to comb the yellow silken hair. And when she combed the hair fell over her knees, and rolled right down to the ground.Then the stepmother hated her more for the beauty of her hair; so she said to her, “I cannot part your hair on my knee, fetch a billet of wood.” So she fetched it. Then said the stepmother, “I cannot part your hair with a comb, fetch me an axe.” So she fetched it.“Now,” said the wicked woman, “lay your head down on the billet whilstI part your hair.”Well! she laid down her little golden head without fear; and whist! down came the axe, and it was off. So the mother wiped the axe and laughed.Then she took the heart and liver of the little girl, and she stewed them and brought them into the house for supper. The husband tasted them and shook his head. He said they tasted very strangely. She gave some to the little boy, but he would not eat. She tried to force him, but he refused, and ran out into the garden, and took up his little sister, and put her in a box, and buried the box under a rose-tree; and every day he went to the tree and wept, till his tears ran down on the box.One day the rose-tree flowered. It was spring, and there among the flowers was a white bird; and it sang, and sang, and sang like an angel out of heaven. Away it flew, and it went to a cobbler’s shop, and perched itself on a tree hard by; and thus it sang, “My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick, stock, stone dead.”“Sing again that beautiful song,” asked the shoemaker. “If you will first give me those little red shoes you are making.” The cobbler gave the shoes, and the bird sang the song; then flew to a tree in front of a watchmaker’s, and sang: “My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick, stock, stone dead.”“Oh, the beautiful song! sing it again, sweet bird,” asked the watchmaker. “If you will give me first that gold watch and chain in your hand.” The jeweller gave the watch and chain. The bird took it in one foot, the shoes in the other, and, after having repeated the song, flew away to where three millers were picking a millstone. The bird perched on a tree and sang: “My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick!”Then one of the men put down his tool and looked up from his work,Then the second miller’s man laid aside his tool and looked up,Then the third miller’s man laid down his tool and looked up,Then all three cried out with one voice: “Oh, what a beautiful song! Sing it, sweet bird, again.” “If you will put the millstone round my neck,” said the bird. The men did what the bird wanted and away to the tree it flew with the millstone round its neck, the red shoes in one foot, and the gold watch and chain in the other. It sang the song and then flew home. It rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house, and the stepmother said: “It thunders.” Then the little boy ran out to see the thunder, and down dropped the red shoes at his feet. It rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house once more, and the stepmother said again: “It thunders.” Then the father ran out and down fell the chain about his neck.In ran father and son, laughing and saying, “See, what fine things the thunder has brought us!” Then the bird rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house a third time; and the stepmother said: “It thunders again, perhaps the thunder has brought something for me,” and she ran out; but the moment she stepped outside the door, down fell the millstone on her head; and so she died.
In olden time, when there was abundance of all things, we ate and drank the whole day long, yet went hungry to bed. At this time there lived a Padishah whose days were joyless, for he had no son. Sorrowfully he set out with his lala, and as they wandered, drinking coffee and smoking tobacco, they came to a wide valley. They sat down to rest, and suddenly the valley resounded with the cracking of whips, and a white, bearded dervish, clad in green, with yellow shoes, appeared before them. The Padishah and his companion trembled with fright, but when the dervish approached and saluted them with “Selâmin alejküm!” they took courage and returned the greeting: “Ve alejküm selâm!”“Whither bound, Padishah?” inquired the dervish.“If thou knowest that I am the Padishah thou canst also tell me the remedy for my grief,” answered he.Taking an apple from his breast and presenting it to the Padishah, the dervish said: “Give one half to the Sultana and eat the other yourself,” and immediately disappeared.The Padishah accordingly went home, gave half of the apple to his consort and ate the other half himself, and before long a Shahzada, or Crown Prince, was born in the palace. The Padishah was beside himself with joy. He gave money to the poor, set slaves free, and prepared a feast for everybody.The Prince grew and attained his fourteenth year. One day he accosted his father with the request: “My Padishah and father, have built for me a small marble palace, with two fountains, from one of which shall flow oil and from the other honey.”“The Prince took up a stone and cast it at the old woman’s jug and broke it to pieces. ” Illustration by Willy Pogany. Published in Forty-Four Turkish Fairy Tales (1913), George G. Harrap & Co.The Padishah loved his only son so much that he ordered the palace to be built with the two fountains, in accordance with the boy’s desire. Now as the Prince sat in his palace looking on the two fountains which yielded oil and honey, an old woman appeared with a jug in her hand, intending to fill it at the fountain. The Prince took up a stone and cast it at the old woman’s jug and broke it to pieces. Without a word the woman withdrew. Next day she came again, and just as she was about to fill her jug the Prince once more threw a stone and broke the vessel. Without a word the old woman went away. On the third day she reappeared, and for the third time her jug was shattered by the Prince. Said the old woman: “I pray Allah thou mayst be smitten with love for the three Orange Peris.” She then went away, and was seen no more.From that moment the Prince was seized as with a devouring fire. He pined and faded, and the Padishah, observing his son’s condition, called in physicians and hodjas, but no one could cure the Prince’s malady. “Oh, Shah,” said the son to his father one day, “my dear father, these people can do me no good; their efforts are in vain. I love the three Orange Fairies, and shall have no peace till I find them.”“Oh, my child,” lamented the Padishah, “thou art my only one. If thou forsake me, then can I have no joy.”But as the Prince continued to get worse, the Padishah thought it better to withhold no longer his permission for the boy’s setting out; he might perhaps find the three fairies and return home.Laden with costly treasures the Prince set forth. Over hill and down dale, ever onward he pursued his way. On a boundless plain he found himself suddenly confronted with the gigantic Dew-mother. Standing astride upon two hills, one foot on each, she crunched resin in her jaws, and the sound could be heard two miles away. Her breathing raised storms, and her arms were nine yards long.“How do you do, mother?” the youth said to her, putting his arm round her waist.“Hadst thou not called me ‘mother’ I would have swallowed thee,” returned the woman. Then she asked him whence he came and whither he would go.“Oh, dear mother,” sighed the boy, “such misfortune is mine that it were better you did not ask and I did not answer.”“But tell me,” demanded the woman.“Oh, dear mother,” he sighed again, “I am in love with the three Orange Fairies. Can you not show me the way to them?”“Silence!” commanded the woman; “it is forbidden to utter that word. I and my sons guard ourselves against them but I know not where they dwell. I have forty sons, who go up and down in the earth; perhaps they may know.”When evening came, before the return of the Dew-sons, the woman picked up the Prince and struck him gently, whereupon he was transformed into a water-jug.She was only just in time, for suddenly the forty Dew-fellows appeared and cried: “We smell the flesh of man, mother!”“But,” returned the mother, “what should a man be doing here? You had better sit down to your supper.”So the Dew-fellows sat down to their meal, during the course of which the mother inquired: “If you had a mortal brother, what would you do with him?”“What should we do with him?” they all answered in chorus. “We should love him as a brother.”On receiving this assurance the Dew-mother struck the water-jug and the Prince appeared. “Here is your brother,” she said, presenting him to her forty sons. The Dews welcomed the youth with joy, called him their brother, gave him a place beside them, and demanded of their mother why she had not produced him before the meal. “My children,” she replied, “he could not have eaten the food you are accustomed to; mortals eat fowl, beef, mutton and such.”Immediately one of the Dews got up, fetched a sheep, and set it before the youth.“You simpleton!” scolded the woman; “it must first be cooked.”So the imp took the sheep away, and returned with it roasted, setting it once more before the Prince. Having eaten till he was satisfied, the Prince put the rest aside. Noticing this, the imps inquired why he did not eat it all, and their mother informed them that the children of men did not eat so much as Dew-fellows.“Let us see how mutton tastes,” said one of the imps, and in a couple of mouthfuls the whole sheep was gone.Next morning the woman said to her sons: “your brother has great grief.” “What is it?” they asked; “we may be able to help him.” “He is in love with the three Orange Fairies,” proceeded the mother. “We know not the dwelling-place of the Orange Fairies; we never go in their neighbourhood; but perhaps our aunt knows.” “Take the youth to her,” ordered the woman; “greet her on my behalf, tell her this is my son, and that I wish her, if possible, to help him.” The Dews accordingly conducted the Prince to their aunt, and told her all.This old witch had sixty sons, and not knowing herself where the Orange Fairies lived, she awaited the return of her progeny. As she was uncertain how her sons would receive the visitor, she struck him gently and turned him into a vessel. “We smell the flesh of man!” the Dews shouted as they ran into the room.“No doubt you have been eating human flesh,” answered their mother. “Now come to your supper.” The sons sat down to eat eagerly. Then the woman struck the vessel, and the sixty Dews, on beholding the little mortal, received him heartily, offered him a seat, and set food before him.“My sons,” said the imps’ mother on the following day, “this child is in love with the three Orange Fairies; can you not take him to them?” “It is certain we cannot,” they answered, “but perhaps our other aunt knows the way.” “Then take him to her,” said the woman; “greet her on my behalf, tell her the boy is my son and will be hers; she may be able to help him.”The imps accordingly conducted the youth to their aunt and related all. “Oh, my children,” she answered, “I can do nothing, but when my eighty sons return this evening I will inquire of them.”The sixty Dews took leave of the Prince, and toward evening the Dew. mother gave him a knock and turned him into a broom, which she put behind the door. Hardly had she done this than the eighty Dews came home, and began muttering about the smell of human flesh. During supper their mother asked them what they would do if they had a mortal brother. As they all swore a solemn oath to do him no harm, she took the broom, struck it lightly, and the Prince appeared.The imps received him cordially, inquired after his health, and set food before him. Then the woman asked them whether they knew where the three Orange Fairies lived, as their new brother was in love with them. With a cry of joy the youngest Dew-son sprang up and said that he knew. “Then,” rejoined the mother, “take the youth there that he may accomplish his desire.”Next morning the imp and the Prince set out on their journey. As they proceeded the young Dew said: “Brother, we shall soon reach a large garden, in which there is a pond, where the three oranges will be found. When I cry, ‘Shut your eyes–open your eyes!’ do so, and seize whatever presents itself.”Proceeding a little farther, they came to the garden, and as the Dew caught sight of the pond he cried to the Prince: “Shut your eyes–open your eyes!” The Prince saw the three oranges on the smooth surface of the pond, seized one and put it in his pocket. Again the Dew cried: “Shut your eyes–open your eyes!” Obeying, the Prince seized the second orange, and likewise the third. “Now,” said the Dew, “take care not to open the oranges at any spot where there is no water, or you will repent it.” Promising to follow his advice, the Prince parted from the Dew, the one going to the right, the other to the left.As the Prince travelled up hill and down dale he remembered the oranges and took one out of his pocket with the intention of opening it. Hardly had he inserted his knife in the peel than a lovely maiden, beautiful as the full moon, sprang out, crying: “Water! give me water!” and as there was no water near, she vanished immediately. The Prince deeply regretted what he had done, but it could not be helped now.Some hours elapsed, he had walked many miles, and again he thought of the oranges. He took out the second, slit it, and behold! out sprang a maiden lovelier than the first. She also demanded water, and, seeing none, likewise vanished.“I must take better care of the third,” thought the Prince as he tramped wearily onward. On reaching a spring he drank of it, and resolved to open his third orange. He did so, and a maiden more lovely than either of the others appeared. As she also asked for water, the Prince led her to the spring, gave her to drink, and she remained with him.The Prince was anxious that the maiden should enter his father’s city with befitting state. So he persuaded her to hide in a tree near the spring, while he went to fetch a coach and gorgeous raiment. When he had gone away a black slave-woman came to the spring for water. Seeing therein the reflection of the maiden from the tree above, and thinking it was her own image, she soliloquised: “I am much more beautiful than my mistress. Why should I carry water for her? Rather should she carry it for me,” and she threw down her jug so violently that it broke in pieces.She returned to the house, and when her mistress asked where the jug was, the negress turned upon her scornfully ” I am more beautiful than you; henceforth you must fetch me water.” The mistress, holding up the mirror, answered “Are you out of your wits? Look in the glass,” and the negress, looking, saw that she was really black. Without another word she again took a jug and went to the spring to fill it. Arrived there, she saw a second time the reflection of the maiden in the tree and mistook it for her own.“I am after all more beautiful than my mistress,” she cried aloud. Throwing down her jug, she once more went to the house. Again the mistress asked why she had brought no water. “I am more beautiful than you; you must fetch me water,” was the retort. “You are mad, girl,” returned the mistress, again holding the mirror up before the swarthy face of the slave, who, realising that she was indeed a negress, took a third jug and went yet a third time to the spring. The reflection of the maiden again appeared in the water, and the negress was just about to dash her jug to pieces when the maid called to her from the tree: “Break not your jug; what you behold in the water is my reflection, not your own.”The negress looked up, and seeing in the tree a being so wondrously beautiful lovelier than anyone she had ever seen before–she addressed her in words of honeyed flattery:“Oh, most charming of all maidens, surely you must be tired from sitting up there so long. Come down and lay your weary head in my lap.”The bait was taken, and as the maiden’s head lay in her lap, the negress took a hair pin and thrust it into her skull. But at the very moment the murderous intention was accomplished the maiden was transformed into an orange coloured bird and flew away, leaving the negress by the tree.Shortly afterwards the Prince returned in a magnificent coach, and clad in gold brocade. Glancing at the tree and seeing the swarthy features of the negress, he asked what had happened. “Leave me here and go away,” answered the negress. “The sun has quite spoilt my complexion.” What could the poor Prince do? He put the supposed maiden in the coach and took her to his father’s palace.The courtiers awaited the arrival of the fairy bride with eager curiosity; when they saw the negress they were at a loss to imagine what the Prince could find attractive about her. “She is not a negress,” explained the Prince; “only she was in the sun so long she has become somewhat sunburnt; she will soon become white again.” With these words he led her to her apartments.Near the Prince’s palace was a large garden. Here one day the Orange Bird flew in, and, alighting on a tree, called to the gardener.“What wilt thou of me?” asked the gardener.“How is the Prince?” inquired the bird.“Quite well,” was the answer.“And how is his black wife?” was the next inquiry.“Oh, she is quite well, but keeps to her apartments,” replied the gardener.At this the bird flew off. Next day it came again, and repeated the questions of the previous day. On the third day also it did the same; and it came to pass that every tree on which the bird had sat withered away. Shortly afterward, as the Prince was walking in the garden, seeing so many withered trees he spoke to the gardener. “Why do you not take proper care of these trees?” he asked; “they are all withered! ”Hereupon the gardener related the incident of the bird and its questions, and observed that though he had done his utmost for the trees it was all in vain. The Prince commanded him to smear the trees with birdlime, and when the bird was caught to bring it himself to the palace. So the bird was caught and taken to the Prince, who put it in a cage.As soon as the negress saw the bird she knew it was really the beautiful maiden. She now pretended to be dangerously ill, sent for the chief physicians, and, bribing them, got them to report to the Prince that only by eating a certain kind of bird could she possibly recover.When the Prince heard that his wife was very ill he called the physicians before him and asked what was to be done. They told him that the Princess could only be cured if a certain kind of bird were given her to eat. “I have lately caught such a bird,” said the Prince, and he commanded that the captive should be killed and served up to his wife. But by chance one of the bird’s beautiful feathers fell to the floor, and lodged, without anyone observing it, between two planks.Time passed, and the Prince was still waiting for his wife to turn white. In the palace was an old woman who taught reading and writing to the inmates. One day, being about to ascend the stairs, she espied a bright object. She picked it up, and saw that it was a bird’s feather with spots on it that sparkled like diamonds. She took the feather to her own room and stuck it in a crevice in the wall.One day while she was in attendance at the palace the feather fell from its position, and ere it could reach the floor, behold! it was trans formed into a lovely maiden, of dazzling beauty. The maiden swept the floor, cooked the dinner, and put everything in order, after which she resumed the form of a feather and went back to her place on the wall. When the old governess arrived home she was astonished. She looked everywhere, but could find no clue to the riddle.Next morning while she was in the palace the feather again assumed human form and acted as on the day before. On the third day the old woman, determined to solve the mystery, instead of leaving her apartments locked the door as though she intended to go to the palace as usual, but hid herself. Soon she saw a maiden in the room, who, after putting everything in proper order, set about the cooking. When all was ready the dame ran in and caught the mysterious maiden and demanded an explanation. The latter related her adventures, telling how the negress had twice taken her life, and how she had come there in the form of a feather.“Grieve not, my daughter,” said the old dame, consoling her, “I will soon put the matter right.’ She lost no time in going to the Prince, whom she invited to supper the same evening.After supper coffee was brought in, and as the maiden set down the cups the Prince chanced to look into her face, and immediately swooned away.When he had been brought to consciousness again he asked who the maiden was. “My servant,” answered the old woman. “Whence have you obtained her?” demanded the Prince. “Will you not sell her to me?” “How can I sell you what already belongs to you?” returned the dame. Taking the maiden by the hand, she led her to the Prince, exhorting him thenceforth to guard his Orange Fairy with more care.The Prince took his true bride home in triumph to his palace, ordered the negress to instant execution, and celebrated his new wedding feast for forty days and forty nights. This happy end attained, we will once more stretch ourselves on our divan.
“Yes, I really must have some flowers to wear to the feast to-night,” said Freyja to her husband, Odur.Freyja was the goddess of love and beauty; she was the most beautiful of all the Æsir, and every one loved to look at her charming face, and to hear her sweet voice.“I think you look quite beautiful enough as you are, without flowers,” Odur replied, but Freyja was not satisfied; she thought she would go and find her brother Frey, the god of summer, for he would give her a garland of flowers. So she wandered forth from Asgard on her way to Frey’s bright home in Alfheim, where he lived among his happy, busy little elves. As Freyja walked along she was thinking of the feast to be given that night in Asgard, and knowing that all the gods and goddesses would be there, she wished to look her very best.{Note: Listen to this Norse Mythology tale plus other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}On and on she wandered, not thinking how far she was getting away from home. Finally the light began to grow fainter and fainter, and Freyja found herself in a strange place. The sunlight had faded away, but there was still a little light that came from lanterns carried by funny little dwarfs, who were busily working. Some were digging gold and gems, others were cleaning off the dirt from the precious stones, and polishing them to make them bright, while four little fellows were seated in one corner, putting the sparkling stones together into a wonderful necklace.“What can that beautiful thing be?” thought Freyja. “If only I had that, it would surely make me look more beautiful than any one else at the feast to-night!” And the more she thought about it, the more she longed to get it. “Oh, I really must have it!” she said to herself, and with these words she stepped nearer to the four little men. “For what price will you sell me your necklace?” she asked.The dwarfs looked up from their work, and when they saw Freyja’s lovely face and heard her sweet voice, said, “Oh, if you will only look kindly upon us, and be our friend, you may have the necklace!”Then a mocking laugh echoed again and again through the dark cavern, seeming to say, “How foolish you are to wish for these bright diamonds; they will not make you happy!” But Freyja snatched the necklace and ran out of the cavern. It did not please her to hear the teasing laugh of the dwarfs, and she wanted to get away from them as soon as possible.At last she was once more out in the open air; she tried to be free and happy again, but a strange feeling of dread came over her, as if something were going to happen. Soon she came to a still pool of water, and, putting on the necklace, she bent over to look at her picture in the clear water. How beautiful the diamonds were! and how they sparkled in the sunshine! She must hasten home to show them to Odur.The fair goddess soon reached Asgard, and hurried to the palace to find her husband. But Odur was not there. Over and over again she searched through all the rooms in vain; he had gone, and although Freyja had her beautiful necklace, she cared little for it without her dear husband.Soon it was time to go to the feast, but Freyja would not go without Odur. She sat down and wept bitter tears; she felt no joy now for having the necklace, and no sorrow because she could not feast with the ÆsirIf only Odur would come back, all would be well again. “I will go to the end of the world to find him!” said Freyja, and she began to make ready for her journey. Her chariot, drawn by two cats, was soon ready; but before she could start, she must first ask Father Odin to allow her to go.“Allfather, I beg you give me leave to go to look for my Odur in every corner of the world!”The wise father replied, “Go, fair Freyja, and may you find whom you seek.”Then she started forth. First to the Midgard world the goddess of beauty went, but no one in all the world had seen or heard of Odur. Down under the earth, to Niflheim, and even to Utgard, the land of giants, she wandered, but still no one had seen or even heard of her husband. Poor Freyja wept many tears, and wherever the teardrops fell, and sank into the ground, they turned into glistening gold.At last the sad goddess returned to her own palace alone. She still wore the wonderful necklace, which was called Brisingamen.One night, when the hour was late, all the Æsir were asleep, except the ever watchful Heimdall, who heard soft footsteps, like those of a cat, near Freyja’s palace. He listened, and thought, “That is surely some one bent on mischief; I must follow him.”When Heimdall reached the palace, he found it was Loki, changed into another form, creeping softly about. Heimdall quietly watched him, and saw him glide in to Freyja’s bedside, where the fair goddess lay asleep, wearing her beautiful necklace. Loki had come to steal the necklace, but when he saw that she was lying on the clasp of the chain, so that he could not undo it without waking her, he changed himself into a gnat, and, crawling along on the pillow, stung her just enough to make her turn over, but not enough to wake her. Then he unclasped the chain and ran off with it as fast as he could.But Heimdall was not going to let the thief get away. As soon as Loki found that he was followed, he took his other form, a little flame of fire; Heimdall then took his other shape, and became a shower of rain, to put out the fire; but Loki, quick and watchful, changed himself into a bear, to catch the rain. Then Heimdall too became a bear, and a fierce fight began. At last the rain-god conquered, and forced wicked Loki to give back the necklace to Freyja.The whole land seemed to feel sorry for poor, lonely Freyja; the leaves fell from the trees, the bright flowers faded, and the singing birds flew away.Once more the fair goddess went forth from Asgard to seek Odur. Away, away to the far-off sunny south she wandered, and there, where the myrtle trees and the oranges grow, at last she found her long-lost husband.Then hand in hand the two turned northward again, to their home, and so happy were they together, that they spread joy and happiness around them as they passed along. Everywhere the ice and snow thawed before them, green grass and sweet flowers sprang up behind their footsteps, the birds sang their sweetest songs, the warm summer came back to the north lands, and every one was glad and joyful, for lovely, smiling Freyja was at home again.“White were the moorlandsAnd frozen, before her;Green were the moorlandsAnd blooming, behind her.Out of her gold locksShaking the spring flowers,Out of her garmentsShaking the south wind,Around in the birchesAwaking the throstles,Beautiful Freyja came.”—Kingsley.
When the Dutch gave the name of Katzbergs to the mountains west of the Hudson, by reason of the wild-cats and panthers that ranged there, they obliterated the beautiful Indian Ontiora, “mountains of the sky.” In one tradition of the red men these hills were bones of a monster that fed on human beings until the Great Spirit turned it into stone as it was floundering toward the ocean to bathe. The two lakes near the summit were its eyes. These peaks were the home of an Indian witch, who adjusted the weather for the Hudson Valley with the certainty of a signal service bureau. It was she who let out the day and night in blessed alternation, holding back the one when the other was at large, for fear of conflict. Old moons she cut into stars as soon as she had hung new ones in the sky, and she was often seen perched on Round Top and North Mountain, spinning clouds and flinging them to the winds. Woe betide the valley residents if they showed irreverence, for then the clouds were black and heavy, and through them she poured floods of rain and launched the lightnings, causing disastrous freshets in the streams and blasting the wigwams of the mockers. In a frolic humor she would take the form of a bear or deer and lead the Indian hunters anything but a merry dance, exposing them to tire and peril, and vanishing or assuming some terrible shape when they had overtaken her. Sometimes she would lead them to the cloves and would leap into the air with a mocking “Ho, ho!” just as they stopped with a shudder at the brink of an abyss. Garden Rock was a spot where she was often found, and at its foot a lake once spread. This was held in such awe that an Indian would never wittingly pursue his quarry there; but once a hunter lost his way and emerged from the forest at the edge of the pond. Seeing a number of gourds in crotches of the trees he took one, but fearing the spirit he turned to leave so quickly that he stumbled and it fell. As it broke, a spring welled from it in such volume that the unhappy man was gulfed in its waters, swept to the edge of Kaaterskill clove and dashed on the rocks two hundred and sixty feet below. Nor did the water ever cease to run, and in these times the stream born of the witch’s revenge is known as Catskill Creek.
A whipping Top and a Ball lay close together in a drawer among other playthings. One day the Top said to the Ball, “Since we are living so much together, why should we not be lovers?”But the Ball, being made of morocco leather, thought herself a very high-bred lady, and would hear nothing of such a proposal. On the next day the little boy to whom the playthings belonged came to the drawer; he painted the Top red and yellow, and drove a bright brass nail right through the head of it; it looked very smart indeed as it spun around after that.“Look at me,” said he to the Ball. “What do you say to me now; why should we not make a match of it, and become man and wife? We suit each other so well!—you can jump and I can dance. There would not be a happier pair in the whole world!”“Do you think so?” said the Ball. “Perhaps you do not know that my father and mother were morocco slippers, and that I have a Spanish cork in my body!”“Yes, but then I am made of mahogany,” said the Top; “the Mayor himself turned me. He has a turning lathe of his own, and he took great pleasure in making me.”“Can I trust you in this?” asked the Ball.“May I never be whipped again, if what I tell you is not true,” returned the Top.“You plead your cause well,” said the Ball; “but I am not free to listen to your proposal. I am as good as engaged to a swallow. As often as I fly up into the air, he puts his head out of his nest, and says, ‘Will you?’ In my heart I have said Yes to him, and that is almost the same as an engagement; but I’ll promise never to forget you.”“A deal of good that will do me,” said the Top, and they left off speaking to each other.Next day the Ball was taken out. The Top saw it fly like a bird into the air—so high that it passed quite out of sight. It came back again; but each time that it touched the earth, it sprang higher than before. This must have been either from its longing to mount higher, like the swallow, or because it had the Spanish cork in its body. On the ninth time the little Ball did not return. The boy sought and sought, but all in vain, for it was gone.“I know very well where she is,” sighed the Top. “She is in the swallow’s nest, celebrating her wedding.”The more the Top thought of this the more lovely the Ball became to him; that she could not be his bride seemed to make his love for her the greater. She had preferred another rather than himself, but he could not forget her. He twirled round and round, spinning and humming, but always thinking of the Ball, who grew more and more beautiful the more he thought of her. And thus several years passed,—it came to be an old love,—and now the Top was no longer young!One day he was gilded all over; never in his life had he been half so handsome. He was now a golden top, and bravely he spun, humming all the time. But once he sprang too high—and was gone!They looked everywhere for him,—even in the cellar,—but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he?He had jumped into the dustbin, and lay among cabbage stalks, sweepings, dust, and all sorts of rubbish that had fallen from the gutter in the roof.“Alas! my gay gilding will soon be spoiled here. What sort of trumpery can I have got among?” And then he peeped at a long cabbage stalk which lay much too near him, and at something strange and round, which appeared like an apple, but was not. It was an old Ball that must have lain for years in the gutter, and been soaked through and through with water.“Thank goodness! at last I see an equal; one of my own sort, with whom I can talk,” said the Ball, looking earnestly at the gilded Top. “I am myself made of real morocco, sewed together by a young lady’s hands, and within my body is a Spanish cork; though no one would think it now. I was very near marrying the swallow, when by a sad chance I fell into the gutter on the roof. I have lain there five years, and I am now wet through and through. You may think what a wearisome situation it has been for a young lady like me.”The Top made no reply. The more he thought of his old love, and the more he heard, the more sure he became that this was indeed she.Then came the housemaid to empty the dustbin. “Hullo!” she cried; “why, here’s the gilt Top.” And so the Top was brought again to the playroom, to be used and honored as before, while nothing was again heard of the Ball.And the Top never spoke again of his old love—the feeling must have passed away. And it is not strange, when the object of it has lain five years in a gutter, and been drenched through and through, and when one meets her again in a dustbin.
On Kvalholm, down in Helgeland, dwelt a poor fisherman, Elias by name, with his wife Karen, who had been in service at the parson’s over at Alstad. They had built them a hut here, and he used to go out fishing by the day about the Lofotens.There could be very little doubt that the lonely Kvalholm was haunted. Whenever her husband was away, Karen heard all manner of uncanny shrieks and noises, which could mean no good. One day, when she was up on the hillside, mowing grass to serve as winter fodder for their couple of sheep, she heard, quite plainly, a chattering on the strand beneath the hill, but look over she durst not.They had a child every year, but that was no burden, for they were both thrifty, hard-working folks. When seven years had gone by, there were six children in the house; but that same autumn Elias had scraped together so much that he thought he might now venture to buy a Sexæring, and henceforward go fishing in his own boat.One day, as he was walking along with a Kvejtepig in his hand, and thinking the matter over, he unexpectedly came upon a monstrous seal, which lay sunning itself right behind a rock on the strand, and was as much surprised to see the man as the man was to see the seal. But Elias was not slack; from the top of the rock on which he stood, he hurled the long heavy Kvejtepig right into the monster’s back, just below the neck.The seal immediately rose up on its tail right into the air as high as a boat’s mast, and looked so evilly and viciously at him with its bloodshot eyes, at the same time showing its grinning teeth, that Elias thought he should have died on the spot for sheer fright. Then it plunged into the sea, and lashed the water into bloody foam behind it. Elias didn’t stop to see more, but that same evening there drifted into the boat place on Kvalcreek, on which his house stood, a Kvejtepole, with the hooked iron head snapped off.Elias thought no more about it, but in the course of the autumn he bought his Sexæring, for which he had been building a little boat-shed the whole summer.One night as he lay awake, thinking of his new Sexæring, it occurred to him that his boat would balance better, perhaps, if he stuck an extra log of wood on each side of it. He was so absurdly fond of the boat that it was a mere pastime for him to light a lantern and go down to have a look at it.Now as he stood looking at it there by the light of the lantern, he suddenly caught a glimpse in the corner opposite, on a coil of nets, of a face which exactly resembled the seal’s. For an instant it grinned savagely at him and the light, its mouth all the time growing larger and larger; and then a big man whisked out of the door, not so quickly, however, but that Elias could catch a glimpse, by the light of the lantern, of a long iron hooked spike sticking out of his back. And now he began to put one and two together. Still he was less anxious about his life than about his boat; so he there and then sat him down in it with the lantern, and kept watch. When his wife came in the morning, she found him sleeping there, with the burnt-out lantern by his side.One morning in January, while he was out fishing in his boat with two other men, he heard, in the dark, a voice from a skerry at the very entrance of the creek. It laughed scornfully, and said, “When it comes to a Femböring, Elias, look to thyself!”But there was many a long year yet before it did come to that; but one autumn, when his son Bernt was sixteen, Elias knew he could manage it, so he took his whole family with him in his boat to Ranen,5 to exchange his Sexæring for a Femböring. The only person left at home was a little Finn girl, whom they had taken into service some few years before, and who had only lately been confirmed.Now there was a boat, a little Femböring, for four men and a boy, that Elias just then had his eye upon–a boat which the best boat-builder in the place had finished and tarred over that very autumn. Elias had a very good notion of what a boat should be, and it seemed to him that he had never seen a Femböring so well built below the water-line. Above the water-line, indeed, it looked only middling, so that, to one of less experience than himself, the boat would have seemed rather a heavy goer than otherwise, and anything but a smart craft.Now the boat-master knew all this just as well as Elias. He said he thought it would be the swiftest sailer in Ranen, but that Elias should have it cheap, all the same, if only he would promise one thing, and that was, to make no alteration whatever in the boat, nay, not so much as adding a fresh coat of tar. Only when Elias had expressly given his word upon it did he get the boat.But “yon laddie” who had taught the boat-master how to build his boats so cunningly below the water-line–above the water-line he had had to use his native wits, and they were scant enough–must surely have been there beforehand, and bidden him both sell it cheaply, so that Elias might get it, and stipulate besides that the boat should not be looked at too closely. In this way it escaped the usual tarring fore and aft.Elias now thought about sailing home, but went first into the town, provided himself and family with provisions against Christmas, and indulged in a little nip of brandy besides. Glad as he was over the day’s bargain, he, and his wife too, took an extra drop in their e’en, and their son Bernt had a taste of it too.After that they sailed off homewards in their new boat. There was no other ballast in the boat but himself, his old woman, the children, and the Christmas provisions. His son Bernt sat by the main-sheet; his wife, helped by her next eldest son, held the sail-ropes; Elias himself sat at the rudder, while the two younger brothers of twelve and fourteen were to take it in turns to bail out.They had eight miles of sea to sail over, and when they got into the open, it was plain that the boat would be tested pretty stiffly on its first voyage. A gale was gradually blowing up, and crests of foam began to break upon the heavy sea.And now Elias saw what sort of a boat he really had. She skipped over the waves like a sea-mew; not so much as a splash came into the boat, and he therefore calculated that he would have no need to take in all his clews against the wind, which an ordinary Femböring would have been forced to do in such weather.Out on the sea, not very far away from him, he saw another Femböring, with a full crew, and four clews in the sail, just like his own. It lay on the same course, and he thought it rather odd that he had not noticed it before. It made as if it would race him, and when Elias perceived that, he could not for the life of him help letting out a clew again.And now he went racing along like a dart, past capes and islands and rocks, till it seemed to Elias as if he had never had such a splendid sail before. Now, too, the boat showed itself what it really was, the best boat in Ranen.The weather, meantime, had become worse, and they had already got a couple of dangerous seas right upon them. They broke in over the main-sheet in the forepart of the boat where Bernt sat, and sailed out again to leeward near the stern.Since the gloom had deepened, the other boat had kept almost alongside, and they were now so close together that they could easily have pitched the baling-can from one to the other.So they raced on, side by side, in constantly stiffer seas, till night-fall, and beyond it. The fourth clew ought now to have been taken in again, but Elias didn’t want to give in, and thought he might bide a bit till they took it in in the other boat also, which they needs must do soon. Ever and anon the brandy-flask was brought out and passed round, for they had now both cold and wet to hold out against.The sea-fire, which played on the dark billows near Elias’s own boat, shone with an odd vividness in the foam round the other boat, just as if a fire-shovel was ploughing up and turning over the water. In the bright phosphorescence he could plainly make out the rope-ends on board her. He could also see distinctly the folks on board, with their sou’westers on their heads; but as their larboard side lay nearest, of course they all had their backs towards him, and were well-nigh hidden by the high heeling hull.Suddenly a tremendous roller burst upon them. Elias had long caught a glimpse of its white crest through the darkness, right over the prow where Bernt sat. It filled the whole boat for a moment, the planks shook and trembled beneath the weight of it, and then, as the boat, which had lain half on her beam-ends, righted herself and sped on again, it streamed off behind to leeward.While it was still upon him, he fancied he heard a hideous yell from the other boat; but when it was over, his wife, who sat by the shrouds, said, with a voice which pierced his very soul: “Good God, Elias! the sea has carried off Martha and Nils!”–their two youngest children, the first nine, the second seven years old, who had been sitting in the hold near Bernt. Elias merely answered: “Don’t let go the lines, Karen, or you’ll lose yet more!”They had now to take in the fourth clew, and, when this was done, Elias found that it would be well to take in the fifth and last clew too, for the gale was ever on the increase; but, on the other hand, in order to keep the boat free of the constantly heavier seas, he dare not lessen the sail a bit more than he was absolutely obliged to do; but they found that the scrap of sail they could carry gradually grew less and less. The sea seethed so that it drove right into their faces, and Bernt and his next eldest brother Anthony, who had hitherto helped his mother with the sail-lines, had, at last, to hold in the yards, an expedient one only resorts to when the boat cannot bear even the last clew–here the fifth.The companion boat, which had disappeared in the meantime, now suddenly ducked up alongside again, with precisely the same amount of sail as Elias’s boat; but he now began to feel that he didn’t quite like the look of the crew on board there. The two who stood and held in the yards (he caught a glimpse of their pale faces beneath their sou’westers) seemed to him, by the odd light of the shining foam, more like corpses than men, nor did they speak a single word.A little way off to larboard he again caught sight of the high white back of a fresh roller coming through the dark, and he got ready betimes to receive it. The boat was laid to with its prow turned aslant towards the on-rushing wave, while the sail was made as large as possible, so as to get up speed enough to cleave the heavy sea and sail out of it again. In rushed the roller with a roar like a foss; again, for an instant, they lay on their beam ends; but, when it was over, the wife no longer sat by the sail ropes, nor did Anthony stand there any longer holding the yards–they had both gone overboard.This time also Elias fancied he heard the same hideous yell in the air; but in the midst of it he plainly heard his wife anxiously calling him by name. All that he said when he grasped the fact that she was washed overboard, was, “In Jesus’ Name!” His first and dearest wish was to follow after her, but he felt at the same time that it became him to save the rest of the freight he had on board, that is to say, Bernt and his other two sons, one twelve, the other fourteen years old, who had been baling out for a time, but had afterwards taken their places in the stern behind him.Bernt had now to look to the yards all alone, and the other two helped as best they could. The rudder Elias durst not let slip, and he held it fast with a hand of iron, which continuous exertion had long since made insensible to feeling.A moment afterwards the comrade boat ducked up again: it had vanished for an instant as before. Now, too, he saw more of the heavy man who sat in the stern there in the same place as himself. Out of his back, just below his sou’wester (as he turned round it showed quite plainly), projected an iron spike six inches long, which Elias had no difficulty in recognising again. And now, as he calmly thought it all over, he was quite clear about two things: one was that it was the Draug itself which was steering its half-boat close beside him, and leading him to destruction; the other was that it was written in heaven that he was to sail his last course that night. For he who sees the Draug on the sea is a doomed man. He said nothing to the others, lest they should lose heart, but in secret he commended his soul to God.During the last hour or so he had been forced out of his proper course by the storm; the air also had become dense with snow; and Elias knew that he must wait till dawn before land could be sighted. Meanwhile he sailed along much the same as before. Now and then the boys in the stern complained that they were freezing; but, in the plight they were now in, that couldn’t be helped, and, besides, Elias had something else to think about. A terrible longing for vengeance had come over him, and, but for the necessity of saving the lives of his three lads, he would have tried by a sudden turn to sink the accursed boat which kept alongside of him the whole time as if to mock him; he now understood its evil errand only too well. If the Kvejtepig could reach the Draug before, a knife or a gaff might surely do the same thing now, and he felt that he would gladly have given his life for one good grip of the being who had so mercilessly torn from him his dearest in this world and would fain have still more.At three or four o’clock in the morning they saw coming upon them through the darkness a breaker of such a height that at first Elias thought they must be quite close ashore near the surf swell. Nevertheless, he soon recognised it for what it really was–a huge billow. Then it seemed to him as if there was a laugh over in the other boat, and something said, “There goes thy boat, Elias!” He, foreseeing the calamity, now cried aloud: “In Jesus’ Name!” and then bade his sons hold on with all their might to the withy-bands by the rowlocks when the boat went under, and not let go till it was above the water again. He made the elder of them go forward to Bernt; and himself held the youngest close by his side, stroked him once or twice furtively down the cheeks, and made sure that he had a good grip. The boat, literally buried beneath the foaming roller, was lifted gradually up by the bows and then went under. When it rose again out of the water, with the keel in the air, Elias, Bernt, and the twelve-year-old Martin lay alongside, holding on by the withy-bands; but the third of the brothers was gone.They had now first of all to get the shrouds on one side cut through, so that the mast might come to the surface alongside instead of disturbing the balance of the boat below; and then they must climb up on the swaying bottom of the boat and stave in the key-holes, to let out the air which kept the boat too high in the water, and so ease her. After great exertions they succeeded, and Elias, who had got up on the top first, now helped the other two up after him.There they sat through the long dark winter night, clinging convulsively on by their hands and knees to the boat’s bottom, which was drenched by the billows again and again.After the lapse of a couple of hours died Martin, whom his father had held up the whole time as far as he was able, of sheer exhaustion, and glided down into the sea. They had tried to cry for help several times, but gave it up at last as a bad job.Whilst they two thus sat all alone on the bottom of the boat, Elias said to Bernt he must now needs believe that he too was about to be “along o’ mother!”10but that he had a strong hope that Bernt, at any rate, would be saved, if he only held out like a man. Then he told him all about the Draug, whom he had struck below the neck with the Kvejtepig, and how it had now revenged itself upon him, and certainly would not forbear till it was “quits with him.”It was towards nine o’clock in the morning when the grey dawn began to appear. Then Elias gave to Bernt, who sat alongside him, his silver watch with the brass chain, which he had snapped in two in order to drag it from beneath his closely buttoned jacket. He held on for a little time longer, but, as it got lighter, Bernt saw that his father’s face was deadly pale, his hair too had parted here and there, as often happens when death is at hand, and his skin was chafed off his hands from holding on to the keel. The son understood now that his father was nearly at the last gasp, and tried, so far as the pitching and tossing would allow it, to hold him up; but when Elias marked it, he said, “Nay, look to thyself, Bernt, and hold on fast. I go to mother–in Jesus’ Name!” and with that he cast himself down headlong from the top of the boat.Every one who has sat on the keel of a boat long enough knows that when the sea has got its own it grows much calmer, though not immediately. Bernt now found it easier to hold on, and still more of hope came to him with the brightening day. The storm abated, and, when it got quite light, it seemed to him that he knew where he was, and that it was outside his own homestead, Kvalholm, that he lay driving.He now began again to cry for help, but his chief hope was in a current which he knew bore landwards at a place where a headland broke in upon the surge, and there the water was calmer. And he did, in fact, drive closer and closer in, and came at last so near to one of the rocks that the mast, which was floating by the side of the boat all the time, surged up and down in the swell against the sloping cliff. Stiff as he now was in all his limbs from sitting and holding on, he nevertheless succeeded, after a great effort, in clambering up the cliff, where he hauled the mast ashore, and made the Femböring fast.The Finn girl, who was alone in the house, had been thinking, for the last two hours, that she had heard cries for help from time to time, and as they kept on she mounted the hill to see what it was. There she saw Bernt up on the cliff, and the overturned Femböring bobbing up and down against it. She immediately dashed down to the boat-place, got out the old rowing-boat, and rowed along the shore and round the island right out to him.Bernt lay sick under her care the whole winter through, and didn’t go a fishing all that year. Ever after this, too, it seemed to folks as if the lad were a little bit daft.On the open sea he never would go again, for he had got the sea-scare. He wedded the Finn girl, and moved over to Malang, where he got him a clearing in the forest, and he lives there now, and is doing well, they say.
A peasant had a faithful horse which had grown old and could do no more work, so his master would no longer give him anything to eat and said, “I can certainly make no more use of thee, but still I mean well by thee; if thou provest thyself still strong enough to bring me a lion here, I will maintain thee, but now take thyself away out of my stable,” and with that he chased him into the open country. The horse was sad, and went to the forest to seek a little protection there from the weather. Then the fox met him and said, “Why dost thou hang thy head so, and go about all alone?” “Alas,” replied the horse, “avarice and fidelity do not dwell together in one house. My master has forgotten what services I have performed for him for so many years, and because I can no longer plough well, he will give me no more food, and has driven me out.” “Without giving thee a chance?” asked the fox. “The chance was a bad one. He said, if I were still strong enough to bring him a lion, he would keep me, but he well knows that I cannot do that.” The fox said, “I will help thee, just lay thyself down, stretch thyself out, as if thou wert dead, and do not stir.” The horse did as the fox desired, and the fox went to the lion, who had his den not far off, and said, “A dead horse is lying outside there, just come with me, thou canst have a rich meal.” The lion went with him, and when they were both standing by the horse the fox said, “After all it is not very comfortable for thee here—I tell thee what—I will fasten it to thee by the tail, and then thou canst drag it into thy cave, and devour it in peace.”This advice pleased the lion: he lay down, and in order that the fox might tie the horse fast to him, he kept quite quiet. But the fox tied the lion’s legs together with the horse’s tail, and twisted and fastened all so well and so strongly that no strength could break it. When he had finished his work, he tapped the horse on the shoulder and said, “Pull, white horse, pull.” Then up sprang the horse at once, and drew the lion away with him. The lion began to roar so that all the birds in the forest flew out in terror, but the horse let him roar, and drew him and dragged him over the country to his master’s door. When the master saw the lion, he was of a better mind, and said to the horse, “Thou shalt stay with me and fare well,” and he gave him plenty to eat until he died.
There is no hero who is more famous than Ma-uí. In all the Islands of the Great Ocean, from Kahiki mo-e to Hawaii nei , his name and his deeds are spoken of. His deeds were many, but seven of them were very great, and it is about those seven great deeds that I shall tell you.How Ma – ui won a place for himself in the House.When Ma-ui, the last of her five sons, was born, his mother thought she would have no food for him. So she took him down to the shore of the sea, she cut off her hair and tied it around him, and she gave him to the waves . But Ma-ui was not drowned in the sea: first of all the jelly-fish came; it folded him in its softness, and it kept him warm while he floated on. And then the God of the Sea found the child and took charge of him: he brought him to his house and warmed and cherished him, and little Ma-ui grew up in the land where lived the God of the Sea.But while he was still a boy he went back to his mother’s country. He saw his mother and his four brothers, and he followed them into a house; it was a house that all the people of the country were going into. He sat there with his brothers. And when his mother called her children to take them home, she found this strange child with them. She did not know him, and she would not take him with the rest of the children. But Ma-ui followed them. And when his four brothers came out of their own house they found him there, and he played with them. At first they played hide – and – seek, but then they made themselves spears from canes and began throwing the spears at the house.The slight spears did not go through the thatch of grass that was at the outside of the house. And then Ma-ui made a charm over the cane that was his spear — a charm that toughened it and made it heavy. He flung it again, and a great hole was made in the grass – thatch of the house. His mother came out to chastise the boy and drive him away. But when she stood at the door and saw him standing there so angry, and saw how he was able to break down the house with the throws of his spear, she knew in him the great power that his father had, and she called to him to come into the house. He would not come in until she had laid her hands upon him. When she did this his brothers were jealous that their mother made so much of this strange boy, and they did not want to have him with them. It was then that the elder brother spoke and said, “Never mind; let him be with us and be our dear brother.” And then they all asked him to come into the house.The door-posts, Short Post and Tall Post, that had been put there to guard the house, would not let him come in. Then Ma-ui lifted up his spear, and he threw it at Tall Post and overthrew him. He threw his spear again and overthrew Short Post. And after that he went into his mother’s house and was with his brothers. The overthrowing of the two posts that guarded the house was the first of the great deeds of Ma-ui.In those days, say the people who know the stories of the old times, the birds were not seen by the men and women of the Islands. They flew around the houses, and the flutter of their wings was heard, and the stirring of the branches and the leaves as they were lit upon. Then there would be music. But the people who had never seen the birds thought that this was music made by gods who wanted to remain unseen by the people. Ma-ui could see the birds; he rejoiced in their brilliant colors, and when he called to them they would come and rest upon the branches around the place where he was; there they would sing their happiest songs to him.There was a visitor who came from another land to the country that Ma-ui lived in. He boasted of all the wonderful things that were in his country, and it seemed to the people of Ma-ui’s land that they had nothing that was fine or that could be spoken about. Then Ma-ui called to the birds. They came and they made music on every side. The visitor who had boasted so much was made to wonder, and he said that there was nothing in his country that was so marvellous as the music made by Ma-ui’s friends, the birds. Then, that they might be honored by all, Ma-ui said a charm by which the birds came to be seen by men—the red birds, the i-i-wi and the aha-hani, and the yellow birds, the o-o and the mamo, and all the other bright birds. The delight of seeing them was equal to the delight of hearing the music that they made. Ever afterwards the birds were seen and heard, and the people all rejoiced in them. This Ma-ui did when he was still a boy growing up with his brothers and with his sister in his mother’s house. But this is not counted amongst the great deeds of Ma-ui the hero.The legends of Ma-ui continue in How Ma-ui Lifted Up the Sky.
Once upon a time there was a king and a queen, as in many lands have been. The king had a daughter, Anne, and the queen had one named Kate, but Anne was far bonnier than the queen’s daughter, though they loved one another like real sisters. The queen was jealous of the king’s daughter being bonnier than her own, and cast about to spoil her beauty. So she took counsel of the henwife, who told her to send the lassie to her next morning fasting.So next morning early, the queen said to Anne, “Go, my dear, to the henwife in the glen, and ask her for some eggs.” So Anne set out, but as she passed through the kitchen she saw a crust, and she took and munched it as she went along.When she came to the henwife’s she asked for eggs, as she had been told to do; the henwife said to her, “Lift the lid off that pot there and see.” The lassie did so, but nothing happened. “Go home to your minnie and tell her to keep her larder door better locked,” said the henwife. So she went home to the queen and told her what the henwife had said. The queen knew from this that the lassie had had something to eat, so watched the next morning and sent her away fasting; but the princess saw some country-folk picking peas by the roadside, and being very kind she spoke to them and took a handful of the peas, which she ate by the way.When she came to the henwife’s, she said, “Lift the lid off the pot and you’ll see.” So Anne lifted the lid but nothing happened. Then the henwife was rare angry and said to Anne, “Tell your minnie the pot won’t boil if the fire’s away.” So Anne went home and told the queen.The third day the queen goes along with the girl herself to the henwife. Now, this time, when Anne lifted the lid off the pot, off falls her own pretty head, and on jumps a sheep’s head.So the queen was now quite satisfied, and went back home.Her own daughter, Kate, however, took a fine linen cloth and wrapped it round her sister’s head and took her by the hand and they both went out to seek their fortune. They went on, and they went on, and they went on, till they came to a castle. Kate knocked at the door and asked for a night’s lodging for herself and a sick sister. They went in and found it was a king’s castle, who had two sons, and one of them was sickening away to death and no one could find out what ailed him. And the curious thing was that whoever watched him at night was never seen any more. So the king had offered a peck of silver to anyone who would stop up with him. Now Katie was a very brave girl, so she offered to sit up with him.Till midnight all goes well. As twelve o clock rings, however, the sick prince rises, dresses himself, and slips downstairs. Kate followed, but he didn’t seem to notice her. The prince went to the stable, saddled his horse, called his hound, jumped into the saddle, and Kate leapt lightly up behind him. Away rode the prince and Kate through the greenwood, Kate, as they pass, plucking nuts from the trees and filling her apron with them. They rode on and on till they came to a green hill. The prince here drew bridle and spoke, “Open, open, green hill, and let the young prince in with his horse and his hound,” and Kate added, “and his lady him behind.”Immediately the green hill opened and they passed in. The prince entered a magnificent hall, brightly lighted up, and many beautiful fairies surrounded the prince and led him off to the dance. Meanwhile, Kate, without being noticed, hid herself behind the door. There she sees the prince dancing, and dancing, and dancing, till he could dance no longer and fell upon a couch. Then the fairies would fan him till he could rise again and go on dancing.At last the cock crew, and the prince made all haste to get on horseback; Kate jumped up behind, and home they rode. When the morning sun rose they came in and found Kate sitting down by the fire and cracking her nuts. Kate said the prince had a good night; but she would not sit up another night unless she was to get a peck of gold. The second night passed as the first had done. The prince got up at midnight and rode away to the green hill and the fairy ball, and Kate went with him, gathering nuts as they rode through the forest. This time she did not watch the prince, for she knew he would dance and dance, and dance. But she sees a fairy baby playing with a wand, and overhears one of the fairies say: “Three strokes of that wand would make Kate’s sick sister as bonnie as ever she was.” So Kate rolled nuts to the fairy baby, and rolled nuts till the baby toddled after the nuts and let fall the wand, and Kate took it up and put it in her apron. And at cockcrow they rode home as before, and the moment Kate got home to her room she rushed and touched Anne three times with the wand, and the nasty sheep’s head fell off and she was her own pretty self again. The third night Kate consented to watch, only if she should marry the sick prince. All went on as on the first two nights. This time the fairy baby was playing with a birdie; Kate heard one of the fairies say: “Three bites of that birdie would make the sick prince as well as ever he was.” Kate rolled all the nuts she had to the fairy baby till the birdie was dropped, and Kate put it in her apron.At cockcrow they set off again, but instead of cracking her nuts as she used to do, this time Kate plucked the feathers off and cooked the birdie. Soon there arose a very savoury smell. “Oh!” said the sick prince, “I wish I had a bite of that birdie,” so Kate gave him a bite of the birdie, and he rose up on his elbow. By-and-by he cried out again: “Oh, if I had another bite of that birdie!” so Kate gave him another bite, and he sat up on his bed. Then he said again: “Oh! if I only had a third bite of that birdie!” So Kate gave him a third bite, and he rose quite well, dressed himself, and sat down by the fire, and when the folk came in next morning they found Kate and the young prince cracking nuts together. Meanwhile his brother had seen Annie and had fallen in love with her, as everybody did who saw her sweet pretty face. So the sick son married the well sister, and the well son married the sick sister, and they all lived happy and died happy, and never drank out of a dry cappy.
A Swallow was once boasting to a Crow about her birth. “I was once a princess,” said she, “the daughter of a King of Athens, but my husband used me cruelly, and cut out my tongue for a slight fault. Then, to protect me from further injury, I was turned by Juno into a bird.” “You chatter quite enough as it is,” said the Crow. “What you would have been like if you hadn’t lost your tongue, I can’t think.”
In the winter of 1779, General Putnam was stationed at Reading, Connecticut, with a band of ill-fed, unpaid troops. He was quartered at the Marvin house, and Mary, daughter of farmer Marvin, won her way to the heart of this rough soldier through the excellence of her dumplings and the invigorating quality of her flip. He even took her into his confidence, and, being in want of a spy in an emergency, he playfully asked her if she knew any brave fellow who could be trusted to take a false message into the British lines that would avert an impending attack. Yes, she knew such an one, and would guarantee that he would take the message if the fortunes of the colonial army would be helped thereby. Putnam assured her that it would aid the patriot cause, and, farther, that he would reward her; whereat, with a smile and a twinkling eye, the girl received the missive and left the room.When daylight had left the sky, Mary slipped out of the house, crossed a pasture, entered a ravine, and in a field beyond reached a cattle shelter. On the instant a tall form stepped from the shadows and she sank into its embrace. There was a kiss, a moment of whispered talk, and the girl hurriedly asked her lover if he would carry a letter to the British headquarters, near Ridgefield. Of course he would. But he must not read it, and he must on no account say from whom he had it. The young man consented without a question—that she required it was sufficient; so, thrusting the tiny paper into his hand and bidding him God-speed, she gave him another kiss and they parted—he to go on his errand, she to pass the night with the clergyman’s daughter at the parsonage. At about ten o’clock Putnam was disturbed by the tramping of feet and a tall, goodlooking fellow was thrust into his room by a couple of soldiers. The captive had been found inside the lines, they said, in consultation with some unknown person who had escaped the eye of the sentry in the darkness. When captured he had put a piece of paper into his mouth and swallowed it. He gave the name of Robert Lockwood, and when Putnam demanded to know what he had been doing near the camp without a permit he said that he was bound by a promise not to tell.“Are you a patriot?” asked the general.“I am a royalist. I do not sympathize with rebellion. I have been a man of peace in this war.”Putnam strode about the room, giving vent to his passion in language neither choice nor gentle, for he had been much troubled by spies and informers since he had been there. Then, stopping, he said:“Some one was with you to-night-some of my men. Tell me that traitor’s name and I’ll spare your life and hang him before the whole army.”The prisoner turned pale and dropped his head. He would not violate his promise.“You are a British spy, and I’ll hang you at sunrise!” roared Putnam.In vain the young man pleaded for time to appeal to Washington. He was not a spy, he insisted, and it would be found, perhaps too late, that a terrible mistake had been committed. His words were unheeded: he was led away and bound, and as the sun was rising on the next morning the sentence of courtmartial was executed upon him.At noon Mary returned from the parsonage, her eyes dancing and her mouth dimpling with smiles. Going to Putnam, she said, with a dash of sauciness, “I have succeeded, general. I found a lad last night to take your message. I had to meet him alone, for he is a Tory; so he cannot enter this camp. The poor fellow had no idea that he was doing a service for the rebels, for he did not know what was in the letter, and I bound him not to tell who gave it to him. You see, I punished him for abiding by the king.”The general laughed and gazed at her admiringly.“You’re a brave girl,” he said, “and I suppose you’ve come for your reward. Well, what is it to be?”“I want a pass for Robert Lockwood. He is the royalist I spoke of, but he will not betray you, for he is not a soldier; and—his visits make me very happy.”“The spy you hanged this morning,” whispered an aide in Putnam’s ear.“Give her the pass and say nothing of what has happened.”The general started, changed color, and paused; then he signed the order with a dash, placed it in the girl’s hand, gravely kissed her, watched her as she ran lightly from the house, and going to his bedroom closed the door and remained alone for an hour. From that time he never spoke of the affair, but when his troops were ordered away, soon after, he almost blenched as he gave good-by to Mary Marvin, and met her sad, reproachful look, though to his last day he never learned whether or no she had discovered Robert Lockwood’s fate.
Once upon a time there lived a young man named Rosimond, who was as good and handsome as his elder brother Bramintho was ugly and wicked. Their mother detested her eldest son, and had only eyes for the youngest. This excited Bramintho’s jealousy, and he invented a horrible story in order to ruin his brother. He told his father that Rosimond was in the habit of visiting a neighbour who was an enemy of the family, and betraying to him all that went on in the house, and was plotting with him to poison their father.The father flew into a rage, and flogged his son till the blood came. Then he threw him into prison and kept him for three days without food, and after that he turned him out of the house, and threatened to kill him if he ever came back. The mother was miserable, and did nothing but weep, but she dared not say anything.The youth left his home with tears in his eyes, not knowing where to go, and wandered about for many hours till he came to a thick wood. Night overtook him at the foot of a great rock, and he fell asleep on a bank of moss, lulled by the music of a little brook.It was dawn when he woke, and he saw before him a beautiful woman seated on a grey horse, with trappings of gold, who looked as if she were preparing for the hunt.‘Have you seen a stag and some deerhounds go by?’ she asked.‘No, madam,’ he replied.Then she added, ‘You look unhappy; is there anything the matter? Take this ring, which will make you the happiest and most powerful of men, provided you never make a bad use of it. If you turn the diamond inside, you will become invisible. If you turn it outside, you will become visible again. If you place it on your little finger, you will take the shape of the King’s son, followed by a splendid court. If you put it on your fourth finger, you will take your own shape.’Then the young man understood that it was a Fairy who was speaking to him, and when she had finished she plunged into the woods. The youth was very impatient to try the ring, and returned home immediately. He found that the Fairy had spoken the truth, and that he could see and hear everything, while he himself was unseen. It lay with him to revenge himself, if he chose, on his brother, without the slightest danger to himself, and he told no one but his mother of all the strange things that had befallen him. He afterwards put the enchanted ring on his little finger, and appeared as the King’s son, followed by a hundred fine horses, and a guard of officers all richly dressed.His father was much surprised to see the King’s son in his quiet little house, and he felt rather embarrassed, not knowing what was the proper way to behave on such a grand occasion. Then Rosimond asked him how many sons he had.‘Two,’ replied he.‘I wish to see them,’ said Rosimond. ‘Send for them at once. I desire to take them both to Court, in order to make their fortunes.’The father hesitated, then answered: ‘Here is the eldest, whom I have the honour to present to your Highness.’‘But where is the youngest? I wish to see him too,’ persisted Rosimond.‘He is not here,’ said the father. ‘I had to punish him for a fault, and he has run away.’Then Rosimond replied, ‘You should have shown him what was right, but not have punished him. However, let the elder come with me, and as for you, follow these two guards, who will escort you to a place that I will point out to them.’Then the two guards led off the father, and the Fairy of whom you have heard found him in the forest, and beat him with a golden birch rod, and cast him into a cave that was very deep and dark, where he lay enchanted. ‘Lie there,’ she said, ’till your son comes to take you out again.’Meanwhile the son went to the King’s palace, and arrived just when the real prince was absent. He had sailed away to make war on a distant island, but the winds had been contrary, and he had been shipwrecked on unknown shores, and taken captive by a savage people. Rosimond made his appearance at Court in the character of the Prince, whom everyone wept for as lost, and told them that he had been rescued when at the point of death by some merchants. His return was the signal for great public rejoicings, and the King was so overcome that he became quite speechless, and did nothing but embrace his son. The Queen was even more delighted, and fetes were ordered over the whole kingdom.One day the false Prince said to his real brother, ‘Bramintho, you know that I brought you here from your native village in order to make your fortune; but I have found out that you are a liar, and that by your deceit you have been the cause of all the troubles of your brother Rosimond. He is in hiding here, and I desire that you shall speak to him, and listen to his reproaches.’Bramintho trembled at these words, and, flinging himself at the Prince’s feet, confessed his crime.‘That is not enough,’ said Rosimond. ‘It is to your brother that you must confess, and I desire that you shall ask his forgiveness. He will be very generous if he grants it, and it will be more than you deserve. He is in my ante-room, where you shall see him at once. I myself will retire into another apartment, so as to leave you alone with him.’Bramintho entered, as he was told, into the anteroom. Then Rosimond changed the ring, and passed into the room by another door.Bramintho was filled with shame as soon as he saw his brother’s face. He implored his pardon, and promised to atone for all his faults. Rosimond embraced him with tears, and at once forgave him, adding, ‘I am in great favour with the King. It rests with me to have your head cut off, or to condemn you to pass the remainder of your life in prison; but I desire to be as good to you as you have been wicked to me.’ Bramintho, confused and ashamed, listened to his words without daring to lift his eyes or to remind Rosimond that he was his brother. After this, Rosimond gave out that he was going to make a secret voyage, to marry a Princess who lived in a neighbouring kingdom; but in reality he only went to see his mother, whom he told all that had happened at the Court, giving her at the same time some money that she needed, for the King allowed him to take exactly what he liked, though he was always careful not to abuse this permission. Just then a furious war broke out between the King his master and the Sovereign of the adjoining country, who was a bad man and one that never kept his word. Rosimond went straight to the palace of the wicked King, and by means of his ring was able to be present at all the councils, and learnt all their schemes, so that he was able to forestall them and bring them to naught. He took the command of the army which was brought against the wicked King, and defeated him in a glorious battle, so that peace was at once concluded on conditions that were just to everyone.Henceforth the King’s one idea was to marry the young man to a Princess who was the heiress to a neighbouring kingdom, and, besides that, was as lovely as the day. But one morning, while Rosimond was hunting in the forest where for the first time he had seen the Fairy, his benefactress suddenly appeared before him. ‘Take heed,’ she said to him in severe tones, ‘that you do not marry anybody who believes you to be a Prince. You must never deceive anyone. The real Prince, whom the whole nation thinks you are, will have to succeed his father, for that is just and right. Go and seek him in some distant island, and I will send winds that will swell your sails and bring you to him. Hasten to render this service to your master, although it is against your own ambition, and prepare, like an honest man, to return to your natural state. If you do not do this, you will become wicked and unhappy, and I will abandon you to all your former troubles.’Rosimond took these wise counsels to heart. He gave out that he had undertaken a secret mission to a neighbouring state, and embarked on board a vessel, the winds carrying him straight to the island where the Fairy had told him he would find the real Prince. This unfortunate youth had been taken captive by a savage people, who had kept him to guard their sheep. Rosimond, becoming invisible, went to seek him amongst the pastures, where he kept his flock, and, covering him with his mantle, he delivered him out of the hands of his cruel masters, and bore him back to the ship. Other winds sent by the Fairy swelled the sails, and together the two young men entered the King’s presence.Rosimond spoke first and said, ‘You have believed me to be your son. I am not he, but I have brought him back to you.’ The King, filled with astonishment, turned to his real son and asked, ‘Was it not you, my son, who conquered my enemies and won such a glorious peace? Or is it true that you have been shipwrecked and taken captive, and that Rosimond has set you free?’‘Yes, my father,’ replied the Prince. ‘It is he who sought me out in my captivity and set me free, and to him I owe the happiness of seeing you once more. It was he, not I, who gained the victory.’The King could hardly believe his ears; but Rosimond, turning the ring, appeared before him in the likeness of the Prince, and the King gazed distractedly at the two youths who seemed both to be his son. Then he offered Rosimond immense rewards for his services, which were refused, and the only favour the young man would accept was that one of his posts at Court should be conferred on his brother Bramintho. For he feared for himself the changes of fortune, the envy of mankind and his own weakness. His desire was to go back to his mother and his native village, and to spend his time in cultivating the land.One day, when he was wandering through the woods, he met the Fairy, who showed him the cavern where his father was imprisoned, and told him what words he must use in order to set him free. He repeated them joyfully, for he had always longed to bring the old man back and to make his last days happy. Rosimond thus became the benefactor of all his family, and had the pleasure of doing good to those who had wished to do him evil. As for the Court, to whom he had rendered such services, all he asked was the freedom to live far from its corruption; and, to crown all, fearing that if he kept the ring he might be tempted to use it in order to regain his lost place in the world, he made up his mind to restore it to the Fairy. For many days he sought her up and down the woods and at last he found her. ‘I want to give you back,’ he said, holding out the ring, ‘a gift as dangerous as it is powerful, and which I fear to use wrongfully. I shall never feel safe till I have made it impossible for me to leave my solitude and to satisfy my passions.’While Rosimond was seeking to give back the ring to the Fairy, Bramintho, who had failed to learn any lessons from experience, gave way to all his desires, and tried to persuade the Prince, lately become King, to ill-treat Rosimond. But the Fairy, who knew all about everything, said to Rosimond, when he was imploring her to accept the ring:‘Your wicked brother is doing his best to poison the mind of the King towards you, and to ruin you. He deserves to be punished, and he must die; and in order that he may destroy himself, I shall give the ring to him.’Rosimond wept at these words, and then asked:‘What do you mean by giving him the ring as a punishment? He will only use it to persecute everyone, and to become master.’‘The same things,’ answered the Fairy, ‘are often a healing medicine to one person and a deadly poison to another. Prosperity is the source of all evil to a naturally wicked man. If you wish to punish a scoundrel, the first thing to do is to give him power. You will see that with this rope he will soon hang himself.’Having said this, she disappeared, and went straight to the Palace, where she showed herself to Bramintho under the disguise of an old woman covered with rags. She at once addressed him in these words:‘I have taken this ring from the hands of your brother, to whom I had lent it, and by its help he covered himself with glory. I now give it to you, and be careful what you do with it.’Bramintho replied with a laugh:‘I shall certainly not imitate my brother, who was foolish enough to bring back the Prince instead of reigning in his place,’ and he was as good as his word. The only use he made of the ring was to find out family secrets and betray them, to commit murders and every sort of wickedness, and to gain wealth for himself unlawfully. All these crimes, which could be traced to nobody, filled the people with astonishment. The King, seeing so many affairs, public and private, exposed, was at first as puzzled as anyone, till Bramintho’s wonderful prosperity and amazing insolence made him suspect that the enchanted ring had become his property. In order to find out the truth he bribed a stranger just arrived at Court, one of a nation with whom the King was always at war, and arranged that he was to steal in the night to Bramintho and to offer him untold honours and rewards if he would betray the State secrets.Bramintho promised everything, and accepted at once the first payment of his crime, boasting that he had a ring which rendered him invisible, and that by means of it he could penetrate into the most private places. But his triumph was short. Next day he was seized by order of the King, and his ring was taken from him. He was searched, and on him were found papers which proved his crimes; and, though Rosimond himself came back to the Court to entreat his pardon, it was refused. So Bramintho was put to death, and the ring had been even more fatal to him than it had been useful in the hands of his brother.To console Rosimond for the fate of Bramintho, the King gave him back the enchanted ring, as a pearl without price. The unhappy Rosimond did not look upon it in the same light, and the first thing he did on his return home was to seek the Fairy in the woods.‘Here,’ he said, ‘is your ring. My brother’s experience has made me understand many things that I did not know before. Keep it, it has only led to his destruction. Ah! without it he would be alive now, and my father and mother would not in their old age be bowed to the earth with shame and grief! Perhaps he might have been wise and happy if he had never had the chance of gratifying his wishes! Oh! how dangerous it is to have more power than the rest of the world! Take back your ring, and as ill fortune seems to follow all on whom you bestow it, I will implore you, as a favour to myself, that you will never give it to anyone who is dear to me.’
Long, long ago there lived an old man and his wife who supported themselves by cultivating a small plot of land. Their life had been a very happy and peaceful one save for one great sorrow, and this was they had no child. Their only pet was a dog named Shiro, and on him they lavished all the affection of their old age. Indeed, they loved him so much that whenever they had anything nice to eat they denied themselves to give it to Shiro. Now Shiro means “white,” and he was so called because of his color. He was a real Japanese dog, and very like a small wolf in appearance.The happiest hour of the day both for the old man and his dog was when the man returned from his work in the field, and having finished his frugal supper of rice and vegetables, would take what he had saved from the meal out to the little veranda that ran round the cottage. Sure enough, Shiro was waiting for his master and the evening tit-bit. Then the old man said “Chin, chin!” and Shiro sat up and begged, and his master gave him the food. Next door to this good old couple there lived another old man and his wife who were both wicked and cruel, and who hated their good neighbors and the dog Shiro with all their might. Whenever Shiro happened to look into their kitchen they at once kicked him or threw something at him, sometimes even wounding him.One day Shiro was heard barking for a long time in the field at the back of his master’s house. The old man, thinking that perhaps some birds were attacking the corn, hurried out to see what was the matter. As soon as Shiro saw his master he ran to meet him, wagging his tail, and, seizing the end of his kimono, dragged him under a large yenoki tree. Here he began to dig very industriously with his paws, yelping with joy all the time. The old man, unable to understand what it all meant, stood looking on in bewilderment. But Shiro went on barking and digging with all his might.The thought that something might be hidden beneath the tree, and that the dog had scented it, at last struck the old man. He ran back to the house, fetched his spade and began to dig the ground at that spot. What was his astonishment when, after digging for some time, he came upon a heap of old and valuable coins, and the deeper he dug the more gold coins did he find. So intent was the old man on his work that he never saw the cross face of his neighbor peering at him through the bamboo hedge. At last all the gold coins lay shining on the ground. Shiro sat by erect with pride and looking fondly at his master as if to say, “You see, though only a dog, I can make some return for all the kindness you show me.”The old man ran in to call his wife, and together they carried home the treasure. Thus in one day the poor old man became rich. His gratitude to the faithful dog knew no bounds, and he loved and petted him more than ever, if that were possible.The cross old neighbor, attracted by Shiro’s barking, had been an unseen and envious witness of the finding of the treasure. He began to think that he, too, would like to find a fortune. So a few days later he called at the old man’s house and very ceremoniously asked permission to borrow Shiro for a short time.Shiro’s master thought this a strange request, because he knew quite well that not only did his neighbor not love his pet dog, but that he never lost an opportunity of striking and tormenting him whenever the dog crossed his path. But the good old man was too kind-hearted to refuse his neighbor, so he consented to lend the dog on condition that he should be taken great care of.The wicked old man returned to his home with an evil smile on his face, and told his wife how he had succeeded in his crafty intentions. He then took his spade and hastened to his own field, forcing the unwilling Shiro to follow him. As soon as he reached a yenoki tree, he said to the dog, threateningly:“If there were gold coins under your master’s tree, there must also be gold coins under my tree. You must find them for me! Where are they? Where? Where?”And catching hold of Shiro’s neck he held the dog’s head to the ground, so that Shiro began to scratch and dig in order to free himself from the horrid old man’s grasp.The old man was very pleased when he saw the dog begin to scratch and dig, for he at once supposed that some gold coins lay buried under his tree as well as under his neighbor’s, and that the dog had scented them as before; so pushing Shiro away he began to dig himself, but there was nothing to be found. As he went on digging a foul smell was noticeable, and he at last came upon a refuse heap.The old man’s disgust can be imagined. This soon gave way to anger. He had seen his neighbor’s good fortune, and hoping for the same luck himself, he had borrowed the dog Shiro; and now, just as he seemed on the point of finding what he sought, only a horrid smelling refuse heap had rewarded him for a morning’s digging. Instead of blaming his own greed for his disappointment, he blamed the poor dog. He seized his spade, and with all his strength struck Shiro and killed him on the spot. He then threw the dog’s body into the hole which he had dug in the hope of finding a treasure of gold coins, and covered it over with the earth. Then he returned to the house, telling no one, not even his wife, what he had done.After waiting several days, as the dog Shiro did not return, his master began to grow anxious. Day after day went by and the good old man waited in vain. Then he went to his neighbor and asked him to give him back his dog. Without any shame or hesitation, the wicked neighbor answered that he had killed Shiro because of his bad behavior. At this dreadful news Shiro’s master wept many sad and bitter tears. Great indeed, was his woful surprise, but he was too good and gentle to reproach his bad neighbor. Learning that Shiro was buried under the yenoki tree in the field, he asked the old man to give him the tree, in remembrance of his poor dog Shiro.Even the cross old neighbor could not refuse such a simple request, so he consented to give the old man the tree under which Shiro lay buried. Shiro’s master then cut the tree down and carried it home. Out of the trunk he made a mortar. In this his wife put some rice, and he began to pound it with the intention of making a festival to the memory of his dog Shiro.A strange thing happened! His wife put the rice into the mortar, and no sooner had he begun to pound it to make the cakes, than it began to increase in quantity gradually till it was about five times the original amount, and the cakes were turned out of the mortar as if an invisible hand were at work.When the old man and his wife saw this, they understood that it was a reward to them from Shiro for their faithful love to him. They tasted the cakes and found them nicer than any other food. So from this time they never troubled about food, for they lived upon the cakes with which the mortar never ceased to supply them.The greedy neighbor, hearing of this new piece of good luck, was filled with envy as before, and called on the old man and asked leave to borrow the wonderful mortar for a short time, pretending that he, too, sorrowed for the death of Shiro, and wished to make cakes for a festival to the dog’s memory.The old man did not in the least wish to lend it to his cruel neighbor, but he was too kind to refuse. So the envious man carried home the mortar, but he never brought it back.Several days passed, and Shiro’s master waited in vain for the mortar, so he went to call on the borrower, and asked him to be good enough to return the mortar if he had finished with it. He found him sitting by a big fire made of pieces of wood. On the ground lay what looked very much like pieces of a broken mortar. In answer to the old man’s inquiry, the wicked neighbor answered haughtily:“Have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces, and now I am making a fire of the wood, for when I tried to pound cakes in it only some horrid smelling stuff came out.”The good old man said:“I am very sorry for that. It is a great pity you did not ask me for the cakes if you wanted them. I would have given you as many as ever you wanted. Now please give me the ashes of the mortar, as I wish to keep them in remembrance of my dog.”The neighbor consented at once, and the old man carried home a basket full of ashes.Not long after this the old man accidentally scattered some of the ashes made by the burning of the mortar on the trees of his garden. A wonderful thing happened!It was late in autumn and all the trees had shed their leaves, but no sooner did the ashes touch their branches than the cherry trees, the plum trees, and all other blossoming shrubs burst into bloom, so that the old man’s garden was suddenly transformed into a beautiful picture of spring. The old man’s delight knew no bounds, and he carefully preserved the remaining ashes.The story of the old man’s garden spread far and wide, and people from far and near came to see the wonderful sight.One day, soon after this, the old man heard some one knocking at his door, and going to the porch to see who it was he was surprised to see a Knight standing there. This Knight told him that he was a retainer of a great Daimio (Earl); that one of the favorite cherry trees in this nobleman’s garden had withered, and that though every one in his service had tried all manner of means to revive it, none took effect. The Knight was sore perplexed when he saw what great displeasure the loss of his favorite cherry tree caused the Daimio. At this point, fortunately, they had heard that there was a wonderful old man who could make withered trees to blossom, and that his Lord had sent him to ask the old man to come to him.“And,” added the Knight, “I shall be very much obliged if you will come at once.”The good old man was greatly surprised at what he heard, but respectfully followed the Knight to the nobleman’s Palace.The Daimio, who had been impatiently awaiting the old man’s coming, as soon as he saw him asked him at once:“Are you the old man who can make withered trees flower even out of season?”The old man made an obeisance, and replied:“I am that old man!”Then the Daimio said:“You must make that dead cherry tree in my garden blossom again by means of your famous ashes. I shall look on.”Then they all went into the garden—the Daimio and his retainers and the ladies-in waiting, who carried the Daimio’s sword.The old man now tucked up his kimono and made ready to climb the tree. Saying “Excuse me,” he took the pot of ashes which he had brought with him, and began to climb the tree, every one watching his movements with great interest.At last he climbed to the spot where the tree divided into two great branches, and taking up his position here, the old man sat down and scattered the ashes right and left all over the branches and twigs.Wonderful, indeed, was the result! The withered tree at once burst into full bloom! The Daimio was so transported with joy that he looked as if he would go mad. He rose to his feet and spread out his fan, calling the old man down from the tree. He himself gave the old man a wine cup filled with the best SAKE, and rewarded him with much silver and gold and many other precious things. The Daimio ordered that henceforth the old man should call himself by the name of Hana-Saka-Jijii, or “The Old Man who makes the Trees to Blossom,” and that henceforth all were to recognize him by this name, and he sent him home with great honor.The wicked neighbor, as before, heard of the good old man’s fortune, and of all that had so auspiciously befallen him, and he could not suppress all the envy and jealousy that filled his heart. He called to mind how he had failed in his attempt to find the gold coins, and then in making the magic cakes; this time surely he must succeed if he imitated the old man, who made withered trees to flower simply by sprinkling ashes on them. This would be the simplest task of all.So he set to work and gathered together all the ashes which remained in the fire-place from the burning of the wonderful mortar. Then he set out in the hope of finding some great man to employ him, calling out loudly as he went along:“Here comes the wonderful man who can make withered trees blossom! Here comes the old man who can make dead trees blossom!”The Daimio in his Palace heard this cry, and said:“That must be the Hana-Saka-Jijii passing. I have nothing to do to-day. Let him try his art again; it will amuse me to look on.”So the retainers went out and brought in the impostor before their Lord. The satisfaction of false old man can now be imagined.But the Daimio looking at him, thought it strange that he was not at all like the old man he had seen before, so he asked him:“Are you the man whom I named Hana-Saka-Jijii?”And the envious neighbor answered with a lie:“Yes, my Lord!”“That is strange!” said the Daimio. “I thought there was only one Hana-Saka-Jijii in the world! Has he now some disciples?”“I am the true Hana-Saka-Jijii. The one who came to you before was only my disciple!” replied the old man again.“Then you must be more skillful than the other. Try what you can do and let me see!”The envious neighbor, with the Daimio and his Court following, then went into the garden, and approaching a dead tree, took out a handful of the ashes which he carried with him, and scattered them over the tree.But not only did the tree not burst into flower, but not even a bud came forth. Thinking that he had not used enough ashes, the old man took handfuls and again sprinkled them over the withered tree. But all to no effect. After trying several times, the ashes were blown into the Daimio’s eyes. This made him very angry, and he ordered his retainers to arrest the false Hana-Saka-Jijii at once and put him in prison for an impostor. From this imprisonment the wicked old man was never freed. Thus did he meet with punishment at last for all his evil doings.The good old man, however, with the treasure of gold coins which Shiro had found for him, and with all the gold and the silver which the Daimio had showered on him, became a rich and prosperous man in his old age, and lived a long and happy life, beloved and respected by all.
In a certain village on the Yukon River there once lived four brothers and a sister. The sister’s companion was the youngest boy, of whom she was very fond. This boy was lazy and could never be made to work. The other brothers were great hunters and in the fall they hunted at sea, for they lived near the shore. As soon as the Bladder feast in December was over, they went to the mountains and hunted reindeer. The boy never went with them, but remained at home with his sister, and they amused each other.One time, however, she became angry at him, and that night when she carried food to the other brothers in the kashim or assembly house where the men slept, she gave none to the youngest brother. When she went out of the assembly house she saw a ladder leading up into the sky, with a line hanging down by the side of it. Taking hold of the line, she ascended the ladder, going up into the sky. As she was going up, the younger brother came out and, seeing her, at once ran back and called to his brothers:“Our sister is climbing the sky! Our sister is climbing the sky!”“Oh, you lazy youngster, why do you tell us that? She is doing no such thing,” said they.“Come and see for yourselves! Come, quick!” he cried, very much excited.Sure enough! Up she was going at a rapid rate.The boy caught up his sealskin breeches and, being in a hurry, thrust one leg into them and then drew a deerskin sock on the other foot as he ran outside. There he saw the girl far away up in the sky and began at once to go up the ladder toward her; but she floated away, he following in turn.The girl became the sun and the boy became the moon, and ever since that time he pursues but never overtakes her. At night the sun sinks in the west, and the moon is seen coming up in the east to go circling after, but always too late. The moon, being without food, wanes slowly away from starvation until it is quite lost to sight; then the sun reaches out and feeds it from the dish in which she carried food to the kashim. After the moon is fed and gradually brought to the full, it is permitted to starve again, thus producing the waxing and waning which we see every month.
Once upon a time there was a girl who was to go to the wood and drive the cattle home; but she did not find the herd, and losing her way instead, came to a great hill. It had gates and doors and she went in. There stood a table covered with all sorts of good things to eat. And there stood a bed as well, and in the bed lay a great snake. The snake said to the girl: “Sit down, if you choose! Eat, if you choose! Come and lie down in the bed, if you choose! But if you do not choose, then do not do so.”So the girl did nothing at all. At last the snake said: “Some people are coming now who want you to dance with them. But do not go along with them.”{Listen to The Girl and the Snake plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audiobook App for Apple and ttps://play.app.goo.gl/?link=https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.fairytalez&referrer=utm_source=fairytalez&utm_medium=cta&utm_campaign=ft_audio_book_app&utm_content=ABA-Ltop-CTA-android-app>Android devices}Straightaway people arrived who wanted to dance with the girl; but she would hear nothing of it. Then they began to eat and drink; but the girl left the hill and went home. The following day she again went to the wood to look for the cattle, did not find them, lost her way again, and came to the same hill. This time she also entered, and found everything as it had been the first time, the well-spread table and the bed with the snake in it.And the snake said to her, as before: “Sit down, if you choose! Eat, if you choose! Come, and lie down in the bed if you choose! But if you do not choose, then do not do so! Now a great many more people are coming who will want to dance with you, but do not go with them.”The snake had scarcely concluded before a great many people arrived, who began to dance, eat and drink; but the girl did not keep them company, instead she left the hill and went home.On the third day when she once more went to the wood, everything happened exactly as on the first and second day. The snake invited her to eat and drink, and this time she did so, with a hearty appetite. Then the snake told her to lie down beside him and the girl obeyed. Then the snake said: “Put your arm about me!”She did so. “And now kiss me,” said the snake, “but if you are afraid, put your apron between us.”The girl did so, and in a moment the snake was turned into a marvellously handsome youth, who was really a prince, bewitched in the form of a snake by magic spells, and now delivered by the girl’s courage. Then both of them went away and there was nothing further heard of them.
Once upon a time there lived a poor Brahman and his wife, so poor, that often they did not know whither to turn for a meal, and were reduced to wild herbs and roots for their dinner.Now one day, as the Brahman was gathering such herbs as he could find in the wilderness, he came upon an Aubergine, or egg-plant. Thinking it might prove useful by and by, he dug it up, took it home, and planted it by his cottage door. Every day he watered and tended it, so that it grew wonderfully, and at last bore one large fruit as big as a pear, purple and white and glossy,—such a handsome fruit, that the good couple thought it a pity to pick it, and let it hang on the plant day after day, until one fine morning when there was absolutely nothing to eat in the house. Then the Brahman said to his wife, ‘We must eat the egg-fruit; go and cut it, and prepare it for dinner.’So the Brahman’s wife took a knife, and cut the beautiful purple and white fruit off the plant, and as she did so she thought she heard a low moan. But when she sat down and began to peel the egg-fruit, she heard a tiny voice say quite distinctly, ‘Take care!—oh, please take care! Peel more gently, or I am sure the knife will run into me!’The good woman was terribly perplexed, but went on peeling as gently as she could, wondering all the time what had bewitched the egg-fruit, until she had cut quite through the rind, when—what do you think happened? Why, out stepped the most beautiful little maiden imaginable, dressed in purple and white satin!The poor Brahman and his wife were mightily astonished, but still more delighted; for, having no children of their own, they looked on the tiny maiden as a godsend, and determined to adopt her. So they took the greatest care of her, petting and spoiling her, and always calling her the Princess Aubergine; for, said the worthy couple, if she was not a Princess really, she was dainty and delicate enough to be any king’s daughter.Now not far from the Brahman’s hut lived a King, who had a beautiful wife, and seven stalwart young sons. One day, a slave-girl from the palace, happening to pass by the Brahman’s cottage, went in to ask for a light, and there she saw the beautiful Aubergine. She went straight home to the palace, and told her mistress how in a hovel close by there lived a Princess so lovely and charming, that were the King once to set eyes on her, he would straightway forget, not only his Queen, but every other woman in the world.Now the Queen, who was of a very jealous disposition, could not bear the idea of any one being more beautiful than she was herself, so she cast about in her mind how she could destroy the lovely Aubergine. If she could only inveigle the girl into the palace, she could easily do the rest, for she was a sorceress, and learned in all sorts of magic. So she sent a message to the Princess Aubergine, to say that the fame of her great beauty had reached the palace, and the Queen would like to see with her own eyes if report said true.Now lovely Aubergine was vain of her beauty, and fell into the trap. She went to the palace, and the Queen, pretending to be wonderstruck, said, ‘You were born to live in kings’ houses! From this time you must never leave me; henceforth you are my sister.’This flattered Princess Aubergine’s vanity, so, nothing loath, she remained in the palace, and exchanged veils with the Queen, and drank milk out of the same cup with her, as is the custom when two people say they will be sisters.But the Queen, from the very first moment she set eyes on her, had seen that Princess Aubergine was no human being, but a fairy, and knew she must be very careful how she set about her magic. Therefore she laid strong spells upon her while she slept, and said—  ‘Beautiful Aubergine! tell me true—In what thing does your life lie?’And the Princess answered—’In the life of your eldest son. Kill him, and I will die also.’So the very next morning the wicked Queen went to where her eldest son lay sleeping, and killed him with her own hands. Then she sent the slave-girl to the Princess’s apartments, hoping to hear she was dead too, but the girl returned saying the Princess was alive and well.Then the Queen wept tears of rage, for she knew her spells had notbeen strong enough, and she had killed her son for naught.Nevertheless, the next night she laid stronger spells upon thePrincess Aubergine, saying—  ‘Princess Aubergine! tell me true—In what thing does your life lie?’And the sleeping Princess answered—’In the life of your second son.Kill him, and I too will die.’So the wicked Queen killed her second son with her own hands, but when she sent the slave-girl to see whether Aubergine was dead also, the girl returned again saying the Princess was alive and well.Then the sorceress-queen cried with rage and spite, for she had killed her second son for naught. Nevertheless, she would not give up her wicked project, and the next night laid still stronger spells on the sleeping Princess, asking her—  ‘Princess Aubergine! tell me true—In what thing does your life lie?’And the Princess replied—’In the life of your third son. Kill him, and I must die also!’But the same thing happened. Though the young Prince was killed by his wicked mother, Aubergine remained alive and well; and so it went on day after day, until all the seven young Princes were slain, and their cruel mother still wept tears of rage and spite, at having killed her seven sons for naught.Then the sorceress-queen summoned up all her art, and laid such strong spells on the Princess Aubergine that she could no longer resist them, and was obliged to answer truly; so when the wicked Queen asked—  ‘Princess Aubergine! tell me true—In what thing does your life lie?’the poor Princess was obliged to answer—’In a river far away there lives a red and green fish. Inside the fish there is a bumble bee, inside the bee a tiny box, and inside the box is the wonderful nine-lakh necklace. Put it on, and I shall die.’Then the Queen was satisfied, and set about finding the red and green fish. Therefore, when her husband the King came to see her, she began to sob and to cry, until he asked her what was the matter. Then she told him she had set her heart on procuring the wonderful nine-lakh necklace.‘But where is it to be found?’ asked the King.And the Queen answered in the words of the Princess Aubergine,—’In a river far away there lives a red and green fish. Inside the fish there is a bumble bee, inside the bee a tiny box, and in the box is the nine-lakh necklace.’Now the King was a very kind man, and had grieved sincerely for the loss of his seven young sons, who, the Queen said, had died suddenly of an infectious disease. Seeing his wife so distressed, and being anxious to comfort her, he gave orders that every fisherman in his kingdom was to fish all day until the red and green fish was found. So all the fishermen set to work, and ere long the Queen’s desire was fulfilled—the red and green fish was caught, and when the wicked sorceress opened it, there was the bumble bee, and inside the bee was the box, and inside the box the wonderful nine-lakh necklace, which the Queen put on at once.Now no sooner had the Princess Aubergine been forced to tell the secret of her life by the Queen’s magic, than she knew she must die; so she returned sadly to her foster-parents’ hut, and telling them of her approaching death, begged them neither to burn nor bury her body. ‘This is what I wish you to do,’ she said; ‘dress me in my finest clothes, lay me on my bed, scatter flowers over me, and carry me to the wildest wilderness. There you must place the bed on the ground, and build a high mud wall around it, so that no one will be able to see over.’The poor foster-parents, weeping bitterly, promised to do as she wished; so when the Princess died (which happened at the very moment the wicked Queen put on the nine-lakh necklace), they dressed her in her best clothes, scattered flowers over the bed, and carried her out to the wildest wilderness.Now when the Queen sent the slave-girl to the Brâhman’s hut to inquire if the Princess Aubergine was really dead, the girl returned saying, ‘She is dead, but neither burnt nor buried; she lies out in the wilderness to the north, covered with flowers, as beautiful as the moon!’The Queen was not satisfied with this reply, but as she could do no more, had to be content.Now the King grieved bitterly for his seven young sons, and to try to forget his grief he went out hunting every day; so the Queen, who feared lest in his wanderings he might find the dead Princess Aubergine, made him promise never to hunt towards the north, for, she said, ‘some evil will surely befall you it you do.’But one day, having hunted to the east, and the south, and the west, without finding game, he forgot his promise, and hunted towards the north. In his wanderings he lost his way, and came upon a high enclosure, with no door; being curious to know what it contained, he climbed over the wall. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw a lovely Princess lying on a flower-strewn bed, looking as if she had just fallen asleep. It seemed impossible she could be dead, so, kneeling down beside her, he spent the whole day praying and beseeching her to open her eyes. At nightfall he returned to his palace, but with the dawning he took his bow, and, dismissing all his attendants on the pretext of hunting alone, flew to his beautiful Princess. So he passed day after day, kneeling distractedly beside the lovely Aubergine, beseeching her to rise; but she never stirred.Now at the end of a year he, one day, found the most beautiful little boy imaginable lying beside the Princess. He was greatly astonished, but taking the child in his arms, cared for it tenderly all day, and at night laid it down beside its dead mother. After some time the child learnt to talk, and when the King asked it if its mother was always dead, it replied, ‘No! at night she is alive, and cares for me as you do during the day.’Hearing this, the King bade the boy ask his mother what made her die, and the next day the boy replied, ‘My mother says it is the nine-lakh necklace your Queen wears. At night, when the Queen takes it off, my mother becomes alive again, but every morning, when the Queen puts it on, my mother dies.’This greatly puzzled the King, who could not imagine what his Queen could have to do with the mysterious Princess, so he told the boy to ask his mother whose son he was.The next morning the boy replied, ‘Mother bade me say I am your son,sent to console you for the loss of the seven fair sons your wickedQueen murdered out of jealousy of my mother, the lovely PrincessAubergine.’Then the King grew very wroth at the thought of his dead sons, and bade the boy ask his mother how the wicked Queen was to be punished, and by what means the necklace could be recovered.The next morning the boy replied, ‘Mother says I am the only person who can recover the necklace, so to-night, when you return to the palace, you are to take me with you.’ So the King carried the boy back to the palace, and told all his ministers and courtiers that the child was his heir. On this, the sorceress-queen, thinking of her own dead sons, became mad with jealousy, and determined to poison the boy. To this end she prepared some tempting sweetmeats, and, caressing the child, gave him a handful, bidding him eat them; but the child refused, saying he would not do so until she gave him the glittering necklace she wore round her throat, to play with.Determined to poison the boy, and seeing no other way of inducing him to eat the sweetmeats, the sorceress-queen slipped off the nine-lakh necklace, and gave it to the child. No sooner had he touched it than he fled away so fast that none of the servants or guards could stop him, and never drew breath till he reached the place where the beautiful Princess Aubergine lay dead. He threw the necklace over her head, and immediately she rose up lovelier than ever. Then the King came, and besought her to return to the palace as his bride, but she replied, ‘I will never be your wife till that wicked sorceress is dead, for she would only murder me and my boy, as she murdered your seven young sons. If you will dig a deep ditch at the threshold of the palace, fill it with scorpions and snakes, throw the wicked Queen into it, and bury her alive, I will walk over her grave to be your wife.’So the King ordered a deep ditch to be dug, and had it filled with scorpions and snakes. Then he went to the sorceress-queen, and bade her come to see something very wonderful. But she refused, suspecting a trick. Then the guards seized her, bound her, flung her into the ditch amongst the scorpions and snakes, and buried her alive with them. As for the Princess Aubergine, she and her son walked over the grave, and lived happily in the palace ever after.
Two Weeoombeen brothers went out hunting. One brother was much younger than the other and smaller, so when they sighted an emu, the elder one said to the younger: “You stay quietly here and do not make a noise, or Piggiebillah, whose camp we passed just now, will hear you and steal the emu if I kill it. He is so strong. I’ll go on and try to kill the emu with this stone.” The little Weeoombeen watched his big brother sneak up to the emu, crawling along, almost flat, on the ground. He saw him get quite close to the emu, then spring up quickly and throw the stone with such an accurate aim as to kill the bird on the spot. The little brother was so rejoiced that he forgot his brother’s caution, and he called aloud in his joy. The big Weeoombeen looked round and gave him a warning sign, but too late, Piggiebillah had heard the cry and was hastening towards them. Quickly big Weeoombeen left the emu and joined his little brother.Piggiebillah, when he came up, said: “What have you found?”“Nothing,” said the big Weeoombeen, “nothing but some mistletoe berries.”“It must have been something more than that, or your little brother would not have called out so loudly.”Little Weeoombeen was so afraid that Piggiebillah would find their emu and take it, that he said: “I hit a little bird with a stone, and I was glad I could throw so straight.”“It was no cry for the killing of a little bird or for the finding of mistletoe berries that I heard. It was for something much more than either, or you would not have called out so joyfully. If you do not tell me at once I will kill you both.”The Weeoombeen brothers were frightened, for Piggiebillah was a great fighter and very strong, so when they saw he was really angry, they showed him the dead emu.“Just what I want for my supper,” he said, and so saying, dragged it away to his own camp. The Weeoombeens followed him and even helped him to make a fire to cook the emu, hoping by so doing to get a share given to them. But Piggiebillah would not give them any; he said he must have it all for himself.Angry and disappointed, the Weeoombeens marched straight off and told some black fellows who lived near, that Piggiebillah had a fine fat emu just cooked for supper.Up jumped the black fellows, seized their spears, bade the Weeoombeens quickly lead them to Piggiebillah’s camp, promising them for so doing a share of the emu.When they were within range of spear shot, the black fellows formed a circle, took aim, and threw their spears at Piggiebillah. As the spears fell thick on him, sticking out all over him, Piggiebillah cried aloud: “Bingehlah, Bingeblah. You can have it, you can have it.” But the black fellows did not desist until Piggiebillah was too wounded even to cry out; then they left him a mass of spears and turned to look for the emu. But to their surprise they found it not. Then for the first time they missed the Weeoombeens.Looking round they saw their tracks going to where the emu had evidently been; then they saw that they had dragged the emu to their nyunnoo, which was a humpy made of grass.When the Weeoombeens saw the black fellows coming, they caught hold of the emu and dragged it to a big hole they knew of, with a big stone at its entrance, which stone only they knew the secret of moving. They moved the stone, got the emu and themselves into the hole, and the stone in place again before the black fellows reached the place.The black fellows tried to move the stone, but could not. Yet they knew that the Weeoombeens must have done so, for they had tracked them right up to it, and they could hear the sound of their voices on the other side of it. They saw there was a crevice on either side of the stone, between it and the ground. Through these crevices they, drove in their spears, thinking they must surely kill the brothers. But the Weeoombeens too had seen these crevices and had anticipated the spears, so they had placed the dead emu before them to act as a shield. And into its body were driven the spears of the black fellows extended for the Weeoombeens.Having driven the spears well in, the black fellows went off to get help to move the stone, but when they had gone a little way they heard the Weeoombeens laughing. Back they came and speared again, and again started for help, only as they left to hear once more the laughter of the brothers.The Weeoombeens finding their laughter only brought back the black fellows to a fresh attack, determined to keep quiet, which, after the next spearing, they did.Quite sure, when they heard their spear shots followed by neither conversation nor laughter, that they had killed the Weeoombeens at last, the black fellows hurried away to bring back the strength and cunning of the camp, to remove the stone.The Weeoombeens hurriedly discussed what plan they had better adopt to elude the black fellows, for well they knew that should they ever meet any of them again they would be killed without mercy. And as they talked they satisfied their hunger by eating some of the emu flesh.After a while the black fellows returned, and soon was the stone removed from the entrance. Some of them crept into the hole, where, to their surprise, they found only the remains of the emu and no trace of the Weeoombeens. As those who had gone in first crept out and told of the disappearance of the Weeoombeens, others, incredulous of such a story, crept in to find it confirmed. They searched round for tracks; seeing that their spears were all in the emu it seemed to them probable the Weeoombeens had escaped alive, but if so, whither they had gone their tracks would show. But search as they would no tracks could they find. All they could see were two little birds which sat on a bush near the hole, watching the black fellows all the time. The little birds flew round the hole sometimes, but never away, always returning to their bush and seeming to be discussing the whole affair; but what they said the black fellows could not understand. But as time went on and no sign was ever found of the Weeoombeens, the black fellows became sure that the brothers had turned into the little white-throated birds which had sat on the bush by the hole, so, they supposed, to escape their vengeance. And ever afterwards the little white-throats were called Weeoombeens. And the memory of Piggiebillah is perpetuated by a sort of porcupine ant-eater, which bears his name, and whose skin is covered closely with miniature spears sticking all over it.
In a very cold country, far across the seas, where ice and snow cover the ground for many months in the year, there lived a little hare, who, as his father and mother were both dead, was brought up by his grandmother. As he was too young, and she was too old, to work, they were very poor, and often did not have enough to eat.One day, when the little fellow was hungrier than usual, he asked his grandmother if he might go down to the river and catch a fish for their breakfast, as the thaw had come and the water was flowing freely again. She laughed at him for thinking that any fish would let itself be caught by a hare, especially such a young one; but as she had the rheumatism very badly, and could get no food herself, she let him go. ‘If he does not catch a fish he may find something else,’ she said to herself. So she told her grandson where to look for the net, and how he was to set it across the river; but just as he was starting, feeling himself quite a man, she called him back.‘After all, I don’t know what is the use of your going, my boy! For even if you should catch a fish, I have no fire to cook it with.’‘Let me catch my fish, and I will soon make you a fire,’ he answered gaily, for he was young, and knew nothing about the difficulties of fire-making.It took him some time to haul the net through bushes and over fields, but at length he reached a pool in the river which he had often heard was swarming with fish, and here he set the net, as his grandmother had directed him.He was so excited that he hardly slept all night, and at the very first streak of dawn he ran as fast as ever he could down to the river. His heart beat as quickly as if he had had dogs behind him, and he hardly dared to look, lest he should be disappointed. Would there be even one fish? And at this thought the pangs of hunger made him feel quite sick with fear. But he need not have been afraid; in every mesh of the net was a fine fat fish, and of course the net itself was so heavy that he could only lift one corner. He threw some of the fish back into the water, and buried some more in a hole under a stone, where he would be sure to find them. Then he rolled up the net with the rest, put it on his back and carried it home. The weight of the load caused his back to ache, and he was thankful to drop it outside their hut, while he rushed in, full of joy, to tell his grandmother. ‘Be quick and clean them!’ he said, ‘and I will go to those people’s tents on the other side of the water.’The old woman stared at him in horror as she listened to his proposal. Other people had tried to steal fire before, and few indeed had come back with their lives; but as, contrary to all her expectations, he had managed to catch such a number of fish, she thought that perhaps there was some magic about him which she did not know of, and did not try to hinder him.When the fish were all taken out, he fetched the net which he had laid out to dry, folded it up very small, and ran down to the river, hoping that he might find a place narrow enough for him to jump over; but he soon saw that it was too wide for even the best jumper in the world. For a few moments he stood there, wondering what was to be done, then there darted into his head some words of a spell which he had once heard a wizard use, while drinking from the river. He repeated them, as well as he could remember, and waited to see what would happen. In five minutes such a grunting and a puffing was heard, and columns of water rose into the air, though he could not tell what had made them. Then round the bend of the stream came fifteen huge whales, which he ordered to place themselves heads to tails, like stepping stones, so that he could jump from one to the other till he landed on the opposite shore. Directly he got there he told the whales that he did not need them any more, and sat down in the sand to rest.Unluckily some children who were playing about caught sight of him, and one of them, stealing softly up behind him, laid tight hold of his ears. The hare, who had been watching the whales as they sailed down the river, gave a violent start, and struggled to get away; but the boy held on tight, and ran back home, as fast as he could go.‘Throw it in the pot,’ said the old woman, as soon as he had told his story; ‘put it in that basket, and as soon as the water boils in the pot we will hang it over the fire!’‘Better kill it first,’ said the old man; and the hare listened, horribly frightened, but still looking secretly to see if there was no hole through which he could escape, if he had a chance of doing so. Yes, there was one, right in the top of the tent, so, shaking himself, as if with fright, he let the end of his net unroll itself a little.‘I wish that a spark of fire would fall on my net,’ whispered he; and the next minute a great log fell forward into the midst of the tent, causing every one to spring backwards. The sparks were scattered in every direction, and one fell on the net, making a little blaze. In an instant the hare had leaped through the hole, and was racing towards the river, with men, women, and children after him. There was no time to call back the whales, so, holding the net tight in his mouth, he wished himself across the river. Then he jumped high into the air, and landed safe on the other side, and after turning round to be sure that there was no chance of anyone pursuing him, trotted happily home to his grandmother.‘Didn’t I tell you I would bring you fire?’ said he, holding up his net, which was now burning briskly.‘But how did you cross the water?’ inquired the old woman.‘Oh, I just jumped!’ said he. And his grandmother asked him no more questions, for she saw that he was wiser than she.
A Boy was gathering berries from a hedge when his hand was stung by a Nettle. Smarting with the pain, he ran to tell his mother, and said to her between his sobs, “I only touched it ever so lightly, mother.” “That’s just why you got stung, my son,” she said; “if you had grasped it firmly, it wouldn’t have hurt you in the least.”
A young Man had been caught in a daring act of theft and had been condemned to be executed for it. He expressed his desire to see his Mother, and to speak with her before he was led to execution, and of course this was granted. When his Mother came to him he said: “I want to whisper to you,” and when she brought her ear near him, he nearly bit it off. All the bystanders were horrified, and asked him what he could mean by such brutal and inhuman conduct. “It is to punish her,” he said. “When I was young I began with stealing little things, and brought them home to Mother. Instead of rebuking and punishing me, she laughed and said: “It will not be noticed.” It is because of her that I am here to-day.” “He is right, woman,” said the Priest; “the Lord said: “Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old he will not depart therefore.”
The Pomengranate and Apple-Tree disputed as to which was the most beautiful. When their strife was at its height, a Bramble from the neighboring hedge lifted up its voice, and said in a boastful tone: “Pray, my dear friends, in my presence at least cease from such vain disputings.”
An old hag lived in a house with her grandson. She was a very bad woman who thought of nothing but playing mischief. She was a witch and tried to harm everybody with witchcraft.One time a stranger came to visit some friends who lived in a house near the old woman. The visitor was a fine hunter and went out with his host every morning and they brought home a great deal of game. It made the old woman envious to see her neighbor have so much to eat, while she had little, and she determined to kill the visitor.She made a soup of wolf’s and man’s brains, which was the most poisonous food she could think of. Then she sent her grandson to invite the stranger to eat supper at her house.“Tell him that I desire to be polite to the guest of my neighbor, but be sure you do not tell him what I have cooked.”The boy went to the neighboring hut and said, “Stranger, my grandmother invites you to come to her hut and have a good feast on a supper that she has cooked. She told me not to say that it is a wolf’s and a man’s brains, and I do not say it.”The man thought a moment, and then replied, “Tell your grandam that I will come.”He went to the hut where the old woman pretended to be very glad to see him. They sat down at the table and while she was placing a large dish of soup before him, he put a bowl on the floor between his feet. He excused himself for putting his hand before his mouth because his front teeth were gone, and every time he poured the spoonful into the bowl.When he had finished he said, “It is the custom in my tribe to bring your hostess a bit of some delicious food to show that you appreciate her hospitality. Here is a bowl of rare food which I give to you, but it will not be good unless you eat it at once.”He gave the soup to the old witch, and the moment she tasted the broth she herself had prepared she fell down dead.
There was an ancient city named Kaivalyam, in the Pânḍiya country, and in that city there lived a dancing girl named Muttumôhanâ. She was an excellent gem of womankind, for though born of the dancing-girls’ caste, she was a very learned and pious woman, and never would she taste her food without first going and worshipping in the temple of Śiva. She moved in the society of kings, ministers, and Brâhmiṇs, and never mingled with low people, however rich they might be. She had a daughter named Chandralêkhâ, whom she put to school with the sons of kings, ministers and Brâhmiṇs. Chandralêkhâ showed signs of very great intelligence, even when she was beginning her alphabet, so that the master took the greatest care with her tuition, and in less than four years she began her lessons and became a great paṇḍitâ(learned woman). However, as she was only a dancing-girl by birth, there was no objection to her attending to her studies in open school till she attained to maturity, and, accordingly, up to that age she attended the school and mastered the four Vêdas and Śâstras and the sixty-four varieties of knowledge.She then ceased to attend the school, and Muttumôhanâ said to her:—“My darling daughter, for the last seven or eight years you have been taking lessons under the Brâhmiṇ, your master, in the various departments of knowledge, and you must now pay a large fee to remunerate your master’s labours in having taught you so much. You are at liberty to take as much money as you please from my hoard.”So saying she handed over the key to her daughter, and Chandralêkhâ, delighted at her mother’s sound advice, filled up five baskets with five thousand mohars in each, and setting them on the heads of five maid-servants, went to her master’s house with betel leaves, areca nut, flowers and cocoanuts in a platter in her hand, to be presented along with the money. The servants placed the baskets before the master and stood outside the house, while Chandralêkhâ took the dish of betel leaves, nuts, &c., and humbly prostrated herself on the ground before him. Then, rising up, she said:—“My most holy gurû (master), great are the pains your holiness undertook in instructing me, and thus destroying the darkness of my ignorance. For the last eight years I have been a regular student under your holiness, and all the branches of knowledge hath your holiness taught me. Though what I offer might be insufficient for the pains your holiness took in my case, still I humbly request your holiness to accept what I have brought.”Thus said she, and respectfully pushed the baskets of mohars and the betel-nut platter towards the Brâhmiṇ. She expected to hear benedictions from her tutor, but in that we shall see she was soon disappointed.Replied the wretched Brâhmiṇ:—“My dear Chandralêkhâ, do you not know that I am the tutor of the prince, the minister’s son and several others of great wealth in Kaivalyam? Of money I have more than enough. I do not want a single mohar from you, but what I want is that you should marry me.”Thus spoke the shameless teacher, and Chandralêkhâ’s face changed colour. She was horrified to hear such a suggestion from one whom she had thought till then to be an incarnation of perfection. But, still hoping to convince him of the unjustness of the request, she said:—“My most holy master! The deep respect I entertain towards your holy feet is such that, though your holiness’s words are plain, I am led to think that they are merely uttered to test my character. Does not your holiness know the rules by which a preceptor is to be regarded as a father, and that I thus stand in the relationship of a daughter to your holiness? So kindly forget all that your holiness has said, and accepting what I have brought in my humble state, permit me to go home.”But the wretched teacher never meant anything of the sort. He had spoken in earnest, and his silence now and lascivious look at once convinced the dancing-girl’s daughter of what was passing in his mind. So she quickly went out and told her servants to take back the money.At home Muttumôhanâ was anxiously awaiting the return of her daughter, and as soon as Chandralêkhâ came in without the usual cheerfulness in her face, and without having given the presents, her mother suspected that something had gone wrong, and inquired of her daughter the cause of her gloom. She then related to her mother the whole story of her interview with her old master. Muttumôhanâ was glad to find such a firm heart in her daughter, and blessed her, saying that she would be wedded to a young husband, and lead a chaste life, though born of the dancing-girls’ caste. The money she safely locked up in her room.Now, the Brâhmiṇ, in consequence of his disappointment, was very angry with Chandralêkhâ, and, that no young and wealthy gentleman might visit her house, he spread reports that Chandralêkhâ was possessed of a demon (kuṭṭîchchâtti). So no one approached Chandralêkhâ’s house to win her love, and her mother was much vexed. Her great wish was that some respectable young man should secure her daughter’s affections, but the master’s rumours stood in the way. And thus a year passed, and the belief that a kuṭṭîchchâtti had possessed Chandralêkhâ gained firm ground.After what seemed to these two to be a long period, a sage happened to visit Muttumôhanâ’s house, and she related to him all her daughter’s story. He listened and said:—“Since the belief that a demon has taken possession of your daughter has taken firm hold of the citizens, it is but necessary now that she should perform (pûjâ) worship to the demon-king on the night of the new moon of this month in the cremation-ground. Let her do this and she will be all right, for then some worthy young man can secure her affections.”So saying the sage went away, and his advice seemed to be reasonable to the mother. She very well knew that no such demon had possessed her daughter, but that it was all the master’s idle report. But still, to wipe away any evil notion in the minds of the people she publicly proclaimed that her daughter would perform pûjâ in the cremation-ground at midnight at the next new moon. Now, it is always the rule in such rites that the person who is possessed should go alone to the cremation-ground, and, accordingly, on the night of the next new moon, Chandralêkhâ went to the burning-ground with a basket containing all the necessary things for worship, and a light.Near Kaivalyam, at a distance of five kôs from it, was a great forest called Khâṇḍavam. In it there dwelt eight robbers, who used to commit the greatest havoc in the country round. At the time that Chandralêkhâ proceeded to the cremation-ground, these eight robbers also happened to go there to conceal what they had stolen in the earlier part of that night. Then, being relieved of their burden, they determined to go to some other place to plunder during the latter half of the night also. When Chandralêkhâ heard the sound of footsteps at a distance she feared something wrong, and, covering up her glittering light by means of her empty basket, concealed herself in a hollow place. The thieves came and looked round about them. They found nobody, but, fearing that some one might be near, one of them took out an instrument called kannakkôl, and, whirling it round his head, threw it towards the east. This kannakkôl is the instrument by which these robbers bore holes in walls and enter buildings, and some robbers say they get it from a thunderbolt. During a stormy day they make a large heap of cow-dung, into which a thunderbolt falls and leaves a rod in the middle, which is so powerful that it can bore even through stone walls without making any noise. It has also the attribute of obeying its master’s orders. So when the chief of the eight robbers threw his kannakkôl towards the east, true to its nature, it fell into the hole in which Chandralêkhâ was hiding, and began to pierce her in the back. As soon as she felt it, she dragged it out by both her hands without making the slightest noise, and, throwing it under her feet, stood firmly over it. The robbers, having concealed the eight boxes of wealth they had brought with them in the sands near the cremation-ground, went away to spend the remaining part of the night usefully in their own fashion.As soon as the robbers had left the place Chandralêkhâ came out, and, taking possession of the robbers’ rod, took out the eight boxes that the robbers had buried. With these she quickly hastened home, where her mother was awaiting her return. She soon made her appearance, and related all that had occurred during the night to her mother. They soon removed the contents of the boxes and locked them up safely. Then, taking the empty boxes, she filled them up with stones, old iron and other useless materials, and, arranging them two and two by the side of each leg of her cot, went to sleep on it.As the night was drawing to a close, the robbers, with still more booty, came to the ground, and were thunderstruck when they missed their boxes. But as the day was dawning they went away into the jungle, leaving the investigation of the matter to the next night. They were astonished at the trick that had been played upon them and were very anxious to find out the thief who had outwitted thieves. Now they were sure that their boring-rod, which they had aimed against the unknown person who might be lurking in the smaśânam (cremation-ground), must have wounded him. So one of them assumed the guise of an ointment-seller, and, with some ointment in a cocoanut-bottle, began to walk the streets of Kaivalyam city, crying out:—“Ointment to sell. The best of ointments to cure new wounds and old sores. Please buy my ointment.”And the other seven thieves assumed seven different disguises and also went wandering round the streets of the city. A maid-servant of Chandralêkhâ had seen that her mistress was suffering from the effects of a wound in her back, and never suspecting a thief in the medicine seller, called out to the ointment-man and took him inside the house. She then informed Chandralêkhâ that she had brought in an ointment-man, and that she would do well to buy a little of his medicine for her wound. The clever Chandralêkhâ at once recognised the thief in the medicine vendor, and he too, as he was a very cunning brute, recognised in the young lady the thief of his boxes, and found her wound to be that made by his boring-rod. They soon parted company. The lady bought a little ointment, and the thief in disguise, gladly giving a little of his precious stuff from his cocoanut-bottle, went away. The eight thieves had appointed a place outside Kaivalyam for their rendezvous, and there they learnt who had robbed them of their treasure. Not wishing to remain idle, they chose that very night both to break into Chandralêkhâ’s house and bring away herself and their boxes.Chandralêkhâ, too, was very careful. She locked up all the treasures and kept the eight boxes filled with rubbish, so as to correspond with their original weights, under the cot on which she slept, or rather pretended to sleep, that night. The thieves in due course made a hole into her bedroom and entered. They found her to all appearance sound asleep, and to their still greater joy, they found beneath her cot their eight boxes.“The vixen is asleep. Let us come to-morrow night and take her away; but first let us remove our boxes.”So saying to each other, they took their boxes, each placing one on his head, and returned in haste to their cave, which they reached early in the morning. But when they opened the boxes to sort out their booty, astonishment of astonishments, their eyes met only broken pieces of stone, lumps of iron, and other such rubbish. Every one of them placed his forefinger at right angles to the tip of his nose, and exclaimed:—“Ah! A very clever girl. She has managed to deceive us all. But let this day pass. We shall see whether she will not fall into our hands to-night.”Thus, in wonder and amazement, they spent the whole day. Nor was Chandralêkhâ idle at her own house. She was sure she would again see the robbers in her room that night, and, in order to be prepared for the occasion, she made a small sharp knife out of the robber’s rod, and kept it beneath her pillow, in the place where she was accustomed to keep her purse containing a few betel leaves, nuts, chuṇam, &c., to chew. The night came on. Early Chandralêkhâ had her supper and retired to bed. Sleep she could not, but she cunningly kept eyelids closed and pretended to sleep. Even before it was midnight the eight thieves broke into her room, saying to themselves:—“This clever lady-thief sleeps soundly. We will do her no mischief here. Let us range ourselves two and two at each leg of her cot, and carry her away unconscious to the woods. There we can kill her.”Thus thinking, the eight thieves ranged themselves at the side of the four legs of the cot, and, without the slightest shaking, removed the cot with the sleeper on it outside the town. Their joy in thus having brought away their enemy was very great, and, not fearing for the safe custody of their prisoner, they marched to their cave. Meanwhile Chandralêkhâ was not idle on the cot. The way to the jungle was through a long and fine avenue of mango trees. It was the mango season, and all the branches were hanging with bunches of ripe and unripe fruit. To make up for her weight on the cot she kept plucking mango bunches and heaping them on it, and as soon as a quantity which she thought would make up her weight was upon her cot, she without the slightest noise took hold of a branch and swung herself off it. The thieves walked on as before, the weight on their heads not apparently diminishing, leaving our heroine safely seated on a mango branch to pass the few remaining ghaṭikâs of that anxious night there. The thieves reached their cave just at daybreak, and when they placed their burden down their eyes met only bunches of ripe mangoes, and not the lady they looked for.“Is she a woman of flesh and blood, or is she a devil?” asked the chief of the next in rank.“My lord! she is a woman fast enough, and if we search in the wood we shall find her,” replied he, and at once all the eight robbers after a light breakfast began to search for her.Meanwhile the morning dawned upon Chandralêkhâ and let her see that she was in the midst of a thick jungle. She feared to escape in the daytime as the way was long, and she was sure that the robbers would soon be after her. So she resolved to conceal herself in some deep ambush and wait for the night. Before she left the cot for the mango branch she had secured in her hip the small knife she had made for herself out of the robbers’ rod and the purse containing the materials for chewing betel; and near the tree into which she had climbed she saw a deep hollow surrounded by impenetrable reeds on all sides. So she slowly let herself down from the tree into this hollow, and anxiously waited there for the night.All this time the eight thieves were searching for her in different places, and one of them came to the spot where Chandralêkhâ had sat in the tree, and the dense bushes near made him suspect that she was hidden there; so he proceeded to examine the place by climbing up the tree. When Chandralêkhâ saw the thief on the tree she gave up all hopes of life. But suddenly a bright thought came into her mind, just as the man up above saw her. Putting on a most cheerful countenance she slowly spoke to him.“My dear husband, for I must term you so from this moment, since God has elevated you now to that position, do not raise an alarm. Come down here gently, that we may be happy in each other’s company. You are my husband and I am your wife from this moment.”So spoke the clever Chandralêkhâ, and the head of the thief began to turn with joy when he heard so sweet a speech, and forgetting all her previous conduct to himself and his brethren, he leapt into the hollow. She welcomed him with a smiling face, in which the eager heart of the robber read sincere affection, and gave him some betel-nut to chew and chewed some herself merrily. Now redness of the tongue after chewing betel is always an indication of the mutual affection of a husband and wife among the illiterate of Hindu society. So while the betel-leaf was being chewed she put out her tongue to show the thief how red it was, letting him see thereby how deeply she loved him: and he, to show in return how deeply he loved her, put out his tongue too. And she, as if examining it closely, clutched it in her left hand, while with her right hand in the twinkling of an eye cut off the tongue and nose of the robber, and taking advantage of the confusion that came over him she cut his throat and left him dead.By this time evening was fast approaching, and the other seven robbers, after fruitless search, returned to their cave, feeling sure that the eighth man must have discovered Chandralêkhâ. They waited and waited the whole night, but no one returned, for how could a man who had been killed come back?Our heroine, meanwhile, as soon as evening set in started homewards, being emboldened by the occasion and the circumstances in which she was placed. She reached home safely at midnight and related all her adventures to her mother. Overcome by exhaustion she slept the rest of the night, and as soon as morning dawned began to strengthen the walls of her bedroom by iron plates. To her most useful pocket-knife she now added a bagful of powdered chillies, and went to bed, not to sleep, but to watch for the robbers. Just as she expected, a small hole was bored in the east wall of her bedroom, and one of the seven robbers thrust in his head. As soon as she saw the hole our heroine stood by the side of it with the powder and knife, and with the latter she cut off the nose of the man who peeped in and thrust the powder into the wound. Unable to bear the burning pain he dragged himself back, uttering “ṅa, ṅa, ṅa, ṅa,” having now no nose to pronounce properly with. A second thief, abusing the former for having lost his nose so carelessly, went in, and the bold lady inside dealt in the same way with his nose, and he too, dragged himself back in the same way, calling out “ṅa, ṅa, ṅa, ṅa.” A third thief abused the second in his turn, and going in lost his nose also. Thus all the seven thieves lost their noses, and, fearing to be discovered if they remained, ran off to the forest, where they had to take a few days’ rest from their plundering habits to cure their mutilated noses.Chandralêkhâ had thus three or four times disappointed the thieves. The more she disappointed them the more she feared for her own safety, especially as she had now inflicted a life-long shame on them.“The thieves will surely come as soon as their noses are cured and kill me in some way or other. I am, after all, only a girl,” she thought to herself. So she went at once to the palace and reported all her adventures with the eight robbers to the prince, who had been her former class-mate. The prince was astonished at the bravery of Chandralêkhâ, and promised the next time the robbers came to lend her his assistance. So every night a spy from the palace slept in Chandralêkhâ’s house to carry the news of the arrival of the robbers to the prince, should they ever go there. But the robbers were terribly afraid of approaching Chandralêkhâ’s house, after they came to know that she had a knife made out of the boring-rod. But they devised among themselves a plan of inviting Chandralêkhâ to the forest under the pretence of holding a nautch, and sent to her house a servant for that purpose. The servant came, and, entering Chandralêkhâ’s house, spoke thus to her:—“My dear young lady, whoever you may be, you have now a chance of enriching yourself. I see plainly from the situation of your house that you are one of the dancing-girls’ caste. My masters in the forest have made a plan to give a nautch to their relatives on the occasion of a wedding which is to take place there the day after to-morrow. If you come there they will reward you with a karôṛ of mohars for every nimisha (minute) of your performance.”Thus spoke the servant, and Chandralêkhâ, knowing that the mission was from the thieves, agreed to perform the nautch, and, asking the man to come and take her and her party the next morning to the forest, sent him away.In order to lose no time she went at once to the prince and told him all about the nautch. Said she:—“I know very well that this is a scheme of the thieves to kill me, but before they can do that we must try to kill them. A way suggests itself to me in this wise. To make up a nautch party more than seven persons are required. One must play the drum; a second must sound the cymbals; a third must blow upon the nâgasvara pipe, etc., etc. So I request you to give me seven of your strongest men to accompany me disguised as men of my party, and some of your troops must secretly lie in ambush in readiness to take the robbers prisoners when a signal is given to them.”Thus Chandralêkhâ spoke, and all her advice the prince received with great admiration. He himself offered to follow her as her drummer for the nautch, and he chose six of the ablest commanders from his army, and asked them to disguise themselves as fiddlers, pipers, etc., and he directed an army of a thousand men to follow their footsteps at a distance of two ghaṭikâs’ march, and to lie in ambush near the place where they were going to perform the nautch, ready for a call. Thus everything was arranged and all were ready by the morning to start from Chandralêkhâ’s house.Before the third ghaṭikâ of the morning was over, the robbers’ servant came to conduct Chandralêkhâ with her party to the forest, where the prince and six of his strongest men disguised as her followers, were waiting for him. Chandralêkhâ with all her followers accompanied him, but as soon as she left her house a spy ran off to the army, which, as ordered by the prince, began to follow her party at a distance of two ghaṭikâs.After travelling a long way Chandralêkhâ and her party reached the nautch pavilion at about five ghaṭikâs before sunset. All their hosts were without their noses, and some still had their noses bandaged up. When they saw that Chandralêkhâ’s followers had a fine and prepossessing appearance, even the hard hearts of the robbers softened a little.“Let us have a look at her performance. She is now entirely in our possession. Instead of murdering her now, we will witness her performance for a ghaṭikâ,” said the robbers to each other; and all with one voice said “agreed,” and at once the order for the performance was given.Chandralêkhâ, who was clever in every department of knowledge, began her performance, and, by the most exquisite movement of her limbs, held the audience spell-bound, when suddenly tâ tai, tôm clashed the cymbals. This was the signal for the destruction of the robbers, as well as the sign of the close of a part of the nautch. In the twinkling of an eye the seven disguised followers of the dancing-girl had thrown down the thieves and were upon them. Before the servants of the robbers could come to the help of their masters the footsteps of an army near were heard, and in no time the prince’s one thousand men were on the spot and took all the robbers and their followers prisoners.So great had been the ravages of these robbers in and round Kaivalyam that, without any mercy being shown to them, they and their followers were all ordered to be beheaded, and the prince was so much won over by the excellent qualities of Chandralêkhâ that, notwithstanding her birth as a dancing-girl, he regarded her as a gem of womankind and married her.“Buy a girl in a bâzâr” (kanniyai kaḍaiyir koḷ) is a proverb. What matter where a girl is born provided she is virtuous! And Chandralêkhâ, by her excellent virtue, won a prince for her lord. And when that lord came to know of the real nature of his teacher, who was also the teacher of Chandralêkhâ, he banished him from his kingdom, as a merciful punishment, in consideration of his previous services.
In the days of King Sung-jong (A.D. 1488–1495) one of Korea’s noted men became governor of Pyong-an Province. Now Pyong-an stands first of all the eight provinces in the attainments of erudition and polite society. Many of her literati are good musicians, and show ability in the affairs of State.At the time of this story there was a famous dancing girl in Pyong-an whose name was Charan. She was very beautiful, and sang and danced to the delight of all beholders. Her ability, too, was specially marked, for she understood the classics and was acquainted with history. The brightest of all the geisha was she, famous and far-renowned.The Governor’s family consisted of a son, whose age was sixteen, and whose face was comely as a picture. Though so young, he was thoroughly grounded in Chinese, and was a gifted scholar. His judgment was excellent, and he had a fine appreciation of literary form, so that the moment he lifted his pen the written line took on admirable expression. His name became known as Keydong (The Gifted Lad). The Governor had no other children, neither son nor daughter, so his heart was wrapped up in this boy. On his birthday he had all the officials invited and other special guests, who came to drink his health. There were present also a company of dancing-girls and a large band of musicians. The Governor, during a lull in the banquet, called his son to him, and ordered the chief of the dancing-girls to choose one of the prettiest of their number, that he and she might dance together and delight the assembled guests. On hearing this, the company, with one accord, called for Charan, as the one suited by her talents, attainments and age to be a fitting partner for his son. They came out and danced like fairies, graceful as the wavings of the willow, light and airy as the swallow. All who saw them were charmed. The Governor, too, greatly pleased, called Charan to him, had her sit on the dais, treated her to a share in the banquet, gave her a present of silk, and commanded that from that day forth she be the special dancing maiden to attend upon his son.From this birthday forth they became fast friends together. They thought the world of each other. More than all the delightful stories of history was their love—such as had never been seen.The Governor’s term of office was extended for six years more, and so they remained in the north country. Finally, at the time of return, he and his wife were in great anxiety over their son being separated from Charan. If they were to force them to separate, they feared he would die of a broken heart. If they took her with them, she not being his wife, they feared for his reputation. They could not possibly decide, so they concluded to refer the matter to the son himself. They called him and said, “Even parents cannot decide as to the love of their son for a maiden. What ought we to do? You love Charan so that it will be very hard for you to part, and yet to have a dancing-girl before you are married is not good form, and will interfere with your marriage prospects and promotion. However, the having of a second wife is a common custom in Korea, and one that the world recognizes. Do as you think best in the matter.” The son replied, “There is no difficulty; when she is before my eyes, of course she is everything, but when the time comes for me to start for home she will be like a pair of worn shoes, set aside; so please do not be anxious.”The Governor and his wife were greatly delighted, and said he was a “superior man” indeed.When the time came to part Charan cried bitterly, so that those standing by could not bear to look at her; but the son showed not the slightest sign of emotion. Those looking on were filled with wonder at his fortitude. Although he had already loved Charan for six years, he had never been separated from her for a single day, so he knew not what it meant to say Good-bye, nor did he know how it felt to be parted.The Governor returned to Seoul to fill the office of Chief Justice, and the son came also. After this return thoughts of love for Charan possessed Keydong, though he never expressed them in word or manner. It was almost the time of the Kam-see Examination. The father, therefore, ordered his son to go with some of his friends to a neighbouring monastery to study and prepare. They went, and one night, after the day’s work was over and all were asleep, the young man stole out into the courtyard. It was winter, with frost and snow and a cold, clear moon. The mountains were deep and the world was quiet, so that the slightest sound could be heard. The young man looked up at the moon and his thoughts were full of sorrow. He so wished to see Charan that he could no longer control himself, and fearing that he would lose his reason, he decided that very night to set out for far-distant Pyong-an. He had on a fur head-dress, a thick coat, a leather belt and a heavy pair of shoes. When he had gone less than ten lee, however, his feet were blistered, and he had to go into a neighbouring village and change his leather shoes for straw sandals, and his expensive head-cover for an ordinary servant’s hat. He went thus on his way, begging as he went. He was often very hungry, and when night came, was very, very cold. He was a rich man’s son and had always dressed in silk and eaten dainty fare, and had never in his life walked more than a few feet from his father’s door. Now there lay before him a journey of hundreds of miles. He went stumbling along through the snow, making but poor progress. Hungry, and frozen nearly to death, he had never known such suffering before. His clothes were torn and his face became worn down and blackened till he looked like a goblin. Still on he went, little by little, day after day, till at last, when a whole month had gone by, he reached Pyong-an.Straight to Charan’s home he went, but Charan was not there, only her mother. She looked at him, but did not recognize him. He said he was the former Governor’s son and that out of love for Charan he had walked five hundred lee. “Where is she?” he asked. The mother heard, but instead of being pleased was very angry. She said, “My daughter is now with the son of the new Governor, and I never see her at all; she never comes home, and she has been away for two or three months. Even though you have made this long journey there is no possible way to meet her.”She did not invite him in, so cold was her welcome. He thought to himself, “I came to see Charan, but she is not here. Her mother refuses me; I cannot go back, and I cannot stay. What shall I do?” While thus in this dilemma a plan occurred to him. There was a scribe in Pyong-an, who, during his father’s term of office, had offended, and was sentenced to death. There were extenuating circumstances, however, and he, when he went to pay his morning salutations, had besought and secured his pardon. His father, out of regard for his son’s petition, had forgiven the scribe. He thought, “I was the means of saving the man’s life, he will take me in;” so he went straight from Charan’s to the house of the scribe. But at first this writer did not recognize him. When he gave his name and told who he was, the scribe gave a great start, and fell at his feet making obeisance. He cleared out an inner room and made him comfortable, prepared dainty fare and treated him with all respect.A little later he talked over with his host the possibility of his meeting Charan. The scribe said, “I am afraid that there is no way for you to meet her alone, but if you would like to see even her face, I think I can manage it. Will you consent?”He asked as to the plan. It was this: It being now a time of snow, daily coolies were called to sweep it away from the inner court of the Governor’s yamen, and just now the scribe was in charge of this particular work. Said he, “If you will join the sweepers, take a broom and go in; you will no doubt catch a glimpse of Charan as she is said to be in the Hill Kiosk. I know of no other plan.”Keydong consented. In the early morning he mixed with the company of sweepers and went with his broom into the inner enclosure, where the Hill Kiosk was, and so they worked at sweeping. Just then the Governor’s son was sitting by the open window and Charan was by him, but not visible from the outside. The other workers, being all practised hands, swept well; Keydong alone handled his broom to no advantage, knowing not how to sweep. The Governor’s son, watching the process, looked out and laughed, called Charan and invited her to see this sweeper. Charan stepped out into the open hall and the sweeper raised his eyes to see. She glanced at him but once, and but for a moment, then turned quickly, went into the room, and shut the door, not appearing again, to the disappointment of the sweeper, who came back in despair to the scribe’s house.Charan was first of all a wise and highly gifted woman. One look had told her who the sweeper was. She came back into the room and began to cry. The Governor’s son looked in surprise and displeasure, and asked, “Why do you cry?” She did not reply at once, but after two or three insistent demands told the reason thus: “I am a low class woman; you are mistaken in thinking highly of me, or counting me of worth. Already I have not been home for two whole months and more. This is a special compliment and a high honour, and so there is not the slightest reason for any complaint on my part. But still, I think of my home, which is poor, and my mother. It is customary on the anniversary of my father’s death to prepare food from the official quarters, and offer a sacrifice to his spirit, but here I am imprisoned and to-morrow is the sacrificial day. I fear that not a single act of devotion will be paid, I am disturbed over it, and that’s why I cry.”The Governor’s son was so taken in by this fair statement that he trusted her fully and without a question. Sympathetically he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me before?” He prepared the food and told her to hurry home and carry out the ceremony. So Charan came like flaming fire back to her house, and said to her mother, “Keydong has come and I have seen him. Is he not here? Tell me where he is if you know.” The mother said, “He came here, it is true, all the way on foot to see you, but I told him that you were in the yamen and that there was no possible way for you to meet, so he went away and where he is I know not.”To return in the story: On awaking in the morning in the temple where he and his friends had gone to study, they found Keydong missing. All was in a state of confusion as to what had become of the son of the Chief Justice. They hunted for him far and wide, but he was nowhere to be found, so word was sent to the parents accordingly. There was untold consternation in the home of the former governor. So great a loss, what could equal it? They searched the country about the temple, but no trace or shadow of him was to be found. Some said they thought he had been inveigled away and metamorphosed by the fox; others that he had been eaten by the tiger. The parents decided that he was dead and went into mourning for him, burning his clothing in a sacrificial fire.In Pyong-an the Governor’s son, when he found that he had lost Charan, had Charan’s mother imprisoned and all the relatives, but after a month or so, when the search proved futile, he gave up the matter and let them go.Charan, at last happy with her chosen one, said one day to him, “You, a son of the gentry, for the sake of a dancing-girl have given up parents and home to live in this hidden corner of the hills. It is a matter, too, that touches your filial piety, this leaving your father and mother in doubt as to whether you are alive or not. They ought to know. We cannot live here all our lives, neither can we return home; what do you think we ought to do?” Keydong made a hopeless reply. “I am in distress,” said he, “and know not.”“What do you propose?” asked he. Her reply was, “There is only one way, and that is by means of the Official Examination. I know of no other. You will understand what I mean, even though I do not tell you more.”He said, “Enough, your plan is just the thing to help us out. But how can I get hold of the books I need?”Charan replied, “Don’t be anxious about that, I’ll get the books.” From that day forth she sent through all the neighbourhood for books, to be secured at all costs; but there were few or none, it being a mountain village. One day there came by, all unexpectedly, a pack-peddler, who had in his bundle a book that he wished to sell. Some of the village people wanted to buy it for wall-paper. Charan, however, secured it first and showed it to Keydong. It was none other than a special work for Examinations, with all the exercises written out. It was written in small characters, and was a huge book containing several thousand exercises. Keydong was delighted, and said, “This is enough for all needed preparation.” She bought it and gave it to him, and there he pegged away day after day. In the night he studied by candle-light, while she sat by his side and did silk-spinning. Thus they shared the light together. If he showed any remissness, Charan urged him on, and thus they worked for two years. To begin with, he, being a highly talented scholar, made steady advancement day by day. He was a beautiful writer and a master of the pen. His compositions, too, were without a peer, and every indication pointed to his winning the highest place in the Kwago (Examination).At this time a proclamation was issued that there would be a special examination held before His Majesty the King, so Charan made ready the food required and all necessaries for him to go afoot to Seoul to try his hand.At last here he was, within the Palace enclosure. His Majesty came out into the examination arena and posted up the subject. Keydong took his pen and wrote his finished composition. Under the inspiration of the moment his lines came forth like bubbling water. It was finished.When the announcement was made as to the winner, the King ordered the sealed name of the writer to be opened. It was, and they found that Keydong was first. At that time his father was Prime Minister and waiting in attendance upon the King. The King called the Prime Minister, and said, “It looks to me as though the winner was your son, but he writes that his father is Chief Justice and not Prime Minister; what can that mean?” He handed the composition paper to the father, and asked him to look and see. The Minister gazed at it in wonder, burst into tears, and said, “It is your servant’s son. Three years ago he went with some friends to a monastery to study, but one night he disappeared, and though I searched far and wide I have had no word of him since. I concluded that he had been destroyed by some wild animal, so I had a funeral service held and the house went into mourning. I had no other children but this son only. He was greatly gifted and I lost him in this strange way. The memory has never left me, for it seems as though I had lost him but yesterday. Now that I look at this paper I see indeed that it is the writing of my son. When I lost him I was Chief Justice, and thus he records the office; but where he has been for these three years, and how he comes now to take part in the examination, I know not.”The King, hearing this, was greatly astonished, and at once before all the assembled ministers had him called. Thus he came in his scholar’s dress into the presence of the King. All the officials wondered at this summoning of a candidate before the announcement of the result. The King asked him why he had left the monastery and where he had been for these three years. He bowed low, and said, “I have been a very wicked man, have left my parents, have broken all the laws of filial devotion, and deserve condign punishment.” The King replied, saying, “There is no law of concealment before the King. I shall not condemn you even though you are guilty; tell me all.” Then he told his story to the King. All the officials on each side bent their ears to hear. The King sighed, and said to the father, “Your son has repented and made amends for his fault. He has won first place and now stands as a member of the Court. We cannot condemn him for his love for this woman. Forgive him for all the past and give him a start for the future.” His Majesty said further, “The woman Charan, who has shared your life in the lonely mountains, is no common woman. Her plans, too, for your restoration were the plans of a master hand. She is no dancing-girl, this Charan. Let no other be your lawful wife but she only; let her be raised to equal rank with her husband, and let her children and her children’s children hold highest office in the realm.” So was Keydong honoured with the winner’s crown, and so the Prime Minister received his son back to life at the hands of the King. The winner’s cap was placed upon his head, and the whole house was whirled into raptures of joy.So the Minister sent forth a palanquin and servants to bring up Charan. In a great festival of joy she was proclaimed the wife of the Minister’s son. Later he became one of Korea’s first men of State, and they lived their happy life to a good old age. They had two sons, both graduates and men who held high office.
In a voyage which I made to the East Indies with Captain Hamilton, I took a favorite pointer with me; he was, to use a common phrase, worth his weight in gold, for he never deceived me. One day, when we were, by the best observations we could make, at least three hundred leagues from land, my dog pointed. I observed him for nearly an hour with astonishment, and mentioned the circumstance to the captain and every officer on board, asserting that we must be near land, for my dog smelt game. This occasioned a general laugh; but that did not alter in the least the good opinion I had of my dog. After much conversation pro and con, I boldly told the captain that I placed more confidence in Tray’s nose than I did in the eyes of every seaman on board; and therefore boldly proposed laying the sum I had agreed to pay for my passage (viz., one hundred guineas) that we should find game within half an hour. The captain (a good hearty fellow) laughed again, desired Mr. Crawford, the surgeon, who was prepared, to feel my pulse. He did so, and reported me in perfect health. The following dialogue between them took place; I overheard it, though spoken low and at some distance:—Captain. His brain is turned; I cannot with honor accept his wager.Surgeon. I am of a different opinion. He is quite sane, and depends more upon the scent of his dog than he will upon the judgment of all the officers on board; he will certainly lose, and he richly merits it.Captain. Such a wager cannot be fair on my side; however, I’ll take him up, if I return his money afterwards.During the above conversation, Tray continued in the same situation, and confirmed me still more in my opinion. I proposed the wager a second time; it was then accepted.They had been so long in that situation, that one of the hens was sitting upon four eggs, and a fifth was hatching, when the shark was opened!This young bird we brought up by placing it with a litter of kittens that came into the world a few minutes before. The old cat was as fond of it as any of her own four-legged progeny, and made herself very unhappy when it flew out of her reach till it returned again. As to the other partridges, there were four hens amongst them; one or more were, during the voyage, constantly sitting, and consequently we had plenty of game at the captain’s table; and in gratitude to poor Tray (for being a means of winning one hundred guineas) I ordered him the bones daily, and sometimes a whole bird.
Alfred the sculptor—you know him? We all know him: he won the great gold medal, and got a travelling scholarship, went to Italy, and then came back to his native land. He was young in those days, and indeed he is young yet, though he is ten years older than he was then.After his return he visited one of the little provincial towns on the island of Seeland. The whole town knew who the stranger was, and one of the richest persons gave a party in honour of him, and all who were of any consequence, or possessed any property, were invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it without its being announced by beat of drum. Apprentice boys, and children of poor people, and even some of the poor people themselves, stood in front of the house, and looked at the lighted curtain; and the watchman could fancy that he was giving a party, so many people were in the streets. There was quite an air of festivity about, and in the house was festivity also, for Mr. Alfred the sculptor was there.He talked, and told anecdotes, and all listened to him with pleasure and a certain kind of awe; but none felt such respect for him as did the elderly widow of an official: she seemed, so far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, like a fresh piece of blotting paper, that absorbed all that was spoken, and asked for more. She was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant—a kind of female Caspar Hauser.“I should like to see Rome,” she said. “It must be a lovely city, with all the strangers who are continually arriving there. Now, do give us a description of Rome. How does the city look when you come in by the gate?”“I cannot very well describe it,” replied the sculptor. “A great open place, and in the midst of it an obelisk, which is a thousand years old.”“An organist!” exclaimed the lady, who had never met with the word obelisk. A few of the guests could hardly keep from laughing, nor could the sculptor quite keep his countenance; but the smile that rose to his lips faded away, for he saw, close by the inquisitive dame, a pair of dark blue eyes—they belonged to the daughter of the speaker, and any one who has such a daughter cannot be silly! The mother was like a fountain of questions, and the daughter, who listened, but never spoke, might pass for the beautiful Naiad of the fountain. How charming she was! She was a study for the sculptor to contemplate, but not to converse with; and, indeed, she did not speak, or only very seldom.“Has the Pope a large family?” asked the lady.And the young man considerately answered, as if the question had been better put, “No, he does not come of a great family.”“That’s not what I mean,” the widow persisted. “I mean, has he a wife and children?”“The Pope is not allowed to marry,” said the gentleman.“I don’t like that,” was the lady’s comment.She certainly might have put more sensible questions; but if she had not spoken in just the manner she used, would her daughter have leant so gracefully on her shoulder, looking straight out with the almost mournful smile upon her face?Then Mr. Alfred spoke again, and told of the glory of colour in Italy, of the purple hills, the blue Mediterranean, the azure sky of the South, whose brightness and glory was only surpassed in the North by a maiden’s deep blue eyes. And this he said with a peculiar application; but she who should have understood his meaning, looked as if she were quite unconscious of it, and that again was charming!“Italy!” sighed a few of the guests. “Oh, to travel!” sighed others. “Charming, charming!” chorused they all.“Yes, if I win a hundred thousand dollars in the lottery,” said the head tax-collector’s lady, “then we will travel. I and my daughter, and you, Mr. Alfred; you must be our guide. We’ll all three travel together, and one or two good friends more.” And she nodded in such a friendly way at the company, that each one might imagine he or she was the person who was to be taken to Italy. “Yes, we will go to Italy! but not to those parts where there are robbers—we’ll keep to Rome, and to the great high roads where one is safe.”And the daughter sighed very quietly. And how much may lie in one little sigh, or be placed in it! The young man placed a great deal in it. The two blue eyes, lit up that evening in honour of him, must conceal treasures—treasures of the heart and mind—richer than all the glories of Rome; and when he left the party that night he had lost his heart—lost it completely, to the young lady.The house of the head tax-collector’s widow was the one which Mr. Alfred the sculptor most assiduously frequented; and it was understood that his visits were not intended for that lady, though he and she were the people who kept up the conversation; he came for the daughter’s sake. They called her Kala. Her name was really Calen Malena, and these two names had been contracted into the one name, Kala. She was beautiful; but a few said she was rather dull, and probably slept late of a morning.“She has been always accustomed to that,” her mother said. “She’s a beauty, and they always are easily tired. She sleeps rather late, but that makes her eyes so clear.”What a power lay in the depths of these dark blue eyes! “Still waters run deep.” The young man felt the truth of this proverb; and his heart had sunk into the depths. He spoke and told his adventures, and the mamma was as simple and eager in her questioning as on the first evening of their meeting.It was a pleasure to hear Alfred describe anything. He spoke of Naples, of excursions to Mount Vesuvius, and showed coloured prints of several of the eruptions. And the head tax-collector’s widow had never heard of them before, or taken time to consider the question.“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “So that is a burning mountain! But is it not dangerous to the people round about?”“Whole cities have been destroyed,” he answered; “for instance, Pompeii and Herculaneum.”“But the poor people!—And you saw all that with your own eyes?”“No, I did not see any of the eruptions represented in these pictures, but I will show you a picture of my own, of an eruption I saw.”He laid a pencil sketch upon the table, and mamma, who had been absorbed in the contemplation of the highly coloured prints, threw a glance at the pale drawing, and cried in astonishment,“Did you see it throw up white fire?”For a moment Alfred’s respect for Kala’s mamma suffered a sudden diminution; but, dazzled by the light that illumined Kala, he soon found it quite natural that the old lady should have no eye for colour. After all, it was of no consequence, for Kala’s mamma had the best of all things—namely, Kala herself.And Alfred and Kala were betrothed, which was natural enough, and the betrothal was announced in the little newspaper of the town. Mamma purchased thirty copies of the paper, that she might cut out the paragraph and send it to friends and acquaintances. And the betrothed pair were happy, and the mother-in-law elect was happy too; for it seemed like connecting herself with Thorwaldsen.“For you are a continuation of Thorwaldsen,” she said to Alfred. And it seemed to Alfred that mamma had in this instance said a clever thing. Kala said nothing; but her eyes shone, her lips smiled, her every movement was graceful: yes, she was beautiful; that cannot be too often repeated.Alfred undertook to take a bust of Kala and of his mother-in-law. They sat to him accordingly, and saw how he moulded and smoothed the soft clay with his fingers.“I suppose it’s only on our account,” said mamma-in-law, “that you undertake this commonplace work, and don’t leave your servant to do all that sticking together.”“It is highly necessary that I should mould the clay myself,” he replied.“Ah, yes, you are so very polite,” retorted mamma; and Kala silently pressed his hand, still soiled by the clay.And he unfolded to both of them the loveliness of nature in creation, pointing out how the living stood higher in the scale than the dead creature, how the plant was developed beyond the mineral, the animal beyond the plant, and man beyond the animal. He strove to show them how mind and beauty become manifest in outward form, and how it was the sculptor’s task to seize that beauty and to manifest it in his works.Kala stood silent, and nodded approbation of the expressed thought, while mamma-in-law made the following confession:“It’s difficult to follow all that. But I manage to hobble after you with my thoughts, though they whirl round and round, but I contrive to hold them fast.”And Kala’s beauty held Alfred fast, filled his soul, and seized and mastered him. Beauty gleamed forth from Kala’s every feature—gleamed from her eyes, lurked in the corners of her mouth, and in every movement of her fingers. Alfred the sculptor saw this: he spoke only of her, thought only of her, and the two became one; and thus it may be said that she spoke much, for he and she were one, and he was always talking of her.Such was the betrothal; and now came the wedding, with bridesmaids and wedding presents, all duly mentioned in the wedding speech.Mamma-in-law had set up Thorwaldsen’s bust at the end of the table, attired in a dressing-gown, for he was to be a guest; such was her whim. Songs were sung and cheers were given, for it was a gay wedding, and they were a handsome pair. “Pygmalion received his Galatea,” so one of the songs said.“Ah, that’s your mythologies,” said mamma-in-law.Next day the youthful pair started for Copenhagen, where they were to live. Mamma-in-law accompanied them, “to take care of the commonplace,” as she said, meaning the domestic economy. Kala was like a doll in a doll’s house, all was so bright, so new, and so fine. There they sat, all three; and as for Alfred, to use a proverb that will describe his position, we may say that he sat like the friar in the goose-yard.The magic of form had enchanted him. He had looked at the case, and cared not to inquire what the case contained, and that omission brings unhappiness, much unhappiness, into married life; for the case may be broken, and the gilt may come off; and then the purchaser may repent his bargain. In a large party it is very disagreeable to observe that one’s buttons are giving way, and that there are no buckles to fall back upon; but it is worse still in a great company to become aware that wife and mother-in-law are talking nonsense, and that one cannot depend upon oneself for a happy piece of wit to carry off the stupidity of the thing.The young married pair often sat hand in hand, he speaking and she letting fall a word here and there—the same melody, the same clear, bell-like sounds. It was a mental relief when Sophy, one of her friends, came to pay a visit.Sophy was not pretty. She was certainly free from bodily deformity, though Kala always asserted she was a little crooked; but no eye save a friend’s would have remarked it. She was a very sensible girl, and it never occurred to her that she might become at all dangerous here. Her appearance was like a pleasant breath of air in the doll’s house; and air was certainly required here, as they all acknowledged. They felt they wanted airing, and consequently they came out into the air, and mamma-in-law and the young couple travelled to Italy.“Thank Heaven that we are in our own four walls again,” was the exclamation of mother and daughter when they came home, a year after.“There’s no pleasure in travelling,” said mamma-in-law. “To tell the truth, it’s very wearisome—I beg pardon for saying so. I found the time hang heavy, though I had my children with me; and it’s expensive work, travelling, very expensive! And all those galleries one has to see, and the quantity of things you are obliged to run after! You must do it for decency’s sake, for you’re sure to be asked when you come back; and then you’re sure to be told that you’ve omitted to see what was best worth seeing. I got tired at last of those endless Madonnas; one seemed to be turning a Madonna oneself!”“And what bad living you get!” said Kala.“Yes,” replied mamma, “no such thing as an honest meat soup. It’s miserable trash, their cookery.”And the travelling fatigued Kala: she was always fatigued, that was the worst of it. Sophy was taken into the house, where her presence was a real advantage.Mamma-in-law acknowledged that Sophy understood both housewifery and art, though a knowledge of the latter could not be expected from a person of her limited means; and she was, moreover, an honest, faithful girl; she showed that thoroughly while Kala lay sick—fading away.Where the case is everything, the case should be strong, or else all is over. And all was over with the case—Kala died.“She was beautiful,” said mamma, “she was quite different from the antiques, for they are so damaged. A beauty ought to be perfect, and Kala was a perfect beauty.”Alfred wept, and mamma wept, and both of them wore mourning. The black dress suited mamma very well, and she wore mourning the longest. Moreover, she had to experience another grief in seeing Alfred marry again—marry Sophy, who had no appearance at all.“He’s gone to the very extreme,” cried mamma-in-law; “he has gone from the most beautiful to the ugliest, and he has forgotten his first wife. Men have no endurance. My husband was of a different stamp, and he died before me.”“Pygmalion received his Galatea,” said Alfred: “yes, that’s what they said in the wedding song. I had once really fallen in love with the beautiful statue, which awoke to life in my arms; but the kindred soul which Heaven sends down to us, the angel who can feel and sympathise with and elevate us, I have not found and won till now. You came, Sophy, not in the glory of outward beauty, though you are fair, fairer than is needful. The chief thing remains the chief. You came to teach the sculptor that his work is but clay and dust, only an outward form in a fabric that passes away, and that we must seek the essence, the internal spirit. Poor Kala! ours was but wayfarers’ life. Yonder, where we shall know each other by sympathy, we shall be half strangers.”“That was not lovingly spoken,” said Sophy, “not spoken like a Christian. Yonder, where there is no giving in marriage, but where, as you say, souls attract each other by sympathy; there where everything beautiful develops itself and is elevated, her soul may acquire such completeness that it may sound more harmoniously than mine; and you will then once more utter the first raptured exclamation of your love, Beautiful—most beautiful!”
It was the month of May. The wind still blew cold, but from bush and tree, field and flower, came the welcome sound, “Spring is come.”Large amounts of wild flowers covered the hedges. Under the little apple tree Spring seemed busy, and he told his tale from one of the branches, which hung fresh and blooming and covered with delicate pink blossoms that were just ready to open.The branch well knew how beautiful it was; this knowledge exists as much in the leaf as in the blood. I was therefore not surprised when a rich man’s carriage, which held the young countess, stopped in the road just by. The apple branch, she said, was a most lovely object, a symbol of spring in its most charming aspect. The branch was broken off for her, and she held it in her delicate hand and sheltered it with her silk umbrella.Then they drove to the castle, where featured lofty halls and great drawing-rooms. Pure white curtains fluttered before the open windows, and beautiful flowers stood in transparent vases. In one of them, which looked as if it had been cut out of newly fallen snow, the apple branch was placed among some fresh light twigs of a beech tree. It was a charming sight. And the branch became proud, much like a human.People of every description entered the room, and according to their position in society so dared they to express their strong feelings of pleasure and wonder. Some few said nothing, others expressed too much, and the apple branch very soon got to understand that there was as much difference in the characters of human beings as in those of plants and flowers. Some like decorations and parade, others have a great deal to do to maintain their own importance, while the rest might be spared without much loss to society. So thought the apple branch as he stood before the open window, from which he could see out over gardens and fields, where there were flowers and plants enough for him to think and reflect upon—some rich and beautiful, some poor and humble indeed.“Poor hated herbs,” said the apple branch; “there is really a difference between us. How unhappy they must be! There is a difference indeed, and so there ought to be, or we should all be equals.”And the apple branch looked at them with a sort of pity, especially on a certain little flower that is found in fields and in ditches. No one made these flowers together in an arrangement, they were too common,—they were even known to grow between the paving stones, shooting up everywhere like bad weeds,—and they bore the very ugly name of “dog flowers,” or “dandelions.”“Poor hated plants,” said the apple bough, “it is not your fault that you are so ugly and that you have such an ugly name, but it is with plants as with men—there must be a difference.”“A difference!” cried the sunbeam as he kissed the blooming apple branch and then kissed the yellow dandelion out in the fields. All were brothers, and the sunbeam kissed them—the poor flowers as well as the rich.The apple bough had never thought of the endless love of God which extends over all the works of creation, over everything which lives and moves and has its being in Him. He had never thought of the good and beautiful which are so often hidden, but can never remain forgotten by Him, not only among the lower creation, but also among men. The sunbeam, the ray of light, knew better.“You do not see very far nor very clearly,” he said to the apple branch. “Which is the hated plant you really pity?”“The dandelion,” he replied. “No one ever places it in a bouquet; it is walked on, there are so many of them; and when they run to seed they have flowers like wool, which fly away in little pieces over the roads and cling to the dresses of the people; they are only weeds—but of course there must be weeds. Oh, I am really very thankful that I was not made like one of these flowers.”There came now across the fields a whole group of children, the youngest of whom was so small that he had to be carried by the others; and when he was seated on the grass, among the yellow flowers, he laughed aloud with joy, kicked out his little legs, rolled about, plucked the yellow flowers and kissed them in childlike innocence.The older children broke off the flowers with long stems, bent the stalks one round the other to form links, and made first a chain for the neck, then one to go across the shoulders and hang down to the waist, and at last a wreath to wear about the head; so that they looked quite splendid in the rings of green stems and golden flowers. But the oldest among them gathered carefully the faded flowers, on the stem of which were grouped together the seeds, in the form of a white, feathery crown.These loose, airy wool-flowers are very beautiful, and look like fine, snowy feathers or down. The children held them to their mouths and tried to blow away the whole crown with one puff of breath. They had been told by their grandmothers that whoever did so would be sure to have new clothes before the end of the year. The hated flower was raised to the position of a predicator of events.“Do you see,” said the sunbeam, “do you see the beauty of these flowers? Do you see their powers of giving pleasure?”“Yes, to children,” said the apple bough.As time went on an old woman came into the field and, with a blunt knife without a handle, began to dig round the roots of some of the dandelion plants and pull them up. With some she planned to make tea for herself, but the rest she was going to sell to the chemist and earn money.“But beauty is of higher value than all this,” said the apple-tree branch; “only the chosen ones can be admitted into the worlds of the beautiful. There is a difference between plants, just as there is a difference between men.”Then the sunbeam spoke of the boundless love of God as seen in creation and over all that lives, and of the equal distribution of His gifts, both in time and in eternity.“That is your opinion,” said the apple bough.Then some people came into the room and among them the young countess—the lady who had placed the apple bough in the transparent vase, so pleasantly beneath the rays of sunlight. She carried in her hand something that seemed like a flower. The object was hidden by two or three great leaves which covered it like a shield so that no draft or gust of wind could injure it, and it was carried more carefully than the apple branch had ever been.Very cautiously the large leaves were removed, and there appeared the feathery seed crown of the hated yellow dandelion. This was what the lady had so carefully plucked and carried home so safely covered, so that not one of the delicate feathery arrows of which its mistlike shape was so light it should flutter away. She now drew it forth quite uninjured and wondered at its beautiful form, its airy lightness and singular construction so soon to be blown away by the wind.“See,” she exclaimed, “how wonderfully God has made this little flower. I will paint it in a picture with the apple branch. Every one admires the beauty of the apple bough, but this humble flower has received another kind of loveliness by Heaven, and although they differ in appearance both are children of the realms of beauty.”Then the sunbeam kissed both the lowly flower and the blooming apple branch, whose leaves appeared a rosy blush.
Once upon a time, the monkey was hungry. He wanted to make some porridge, but he did not have any money to buy meal to make the porridge. So he went to the house of the hen to borrow some meal. The hen gave him some meal.“Come to my house tomorrow at one o’clock,” he said to the hen, “I’ll pay back the meal then.”Then the monkey went to the house of the fox and said, “O, friend fox, please lend me some meal. Come to my house tomorrow at two o’clock and I’ll pay you then.” The fox gave him some meal.Then the monkey went to the house of the dog and said, “O, friend dog, please lend me some meal. Come to my house tomorrow at three o’clock and I’ll pay you back then.” The dog gave him some meal.Then the monkey went to the house of the tiger and said, “O, friend tiger, please lend me some meal. Come to my house tomorrow at four o’clock and I’ll pay you back then.” The tiger gave the monkey some meal.The monkey went home and made a great pot of porridge. He feasted and feasted until he couldn’t eat any more, but there was still plenty of porridge left in the pot. Then the monkey made his bed and took care to fix it high up from the floor.The next day, at midday, he ate some more of the porridge. Then he bound a cloth about his head and went to bed pretending that he was sick.At one o’clock the hen came and knocked at the door. The monkey in a low, weak voice asked her to enter. He told her how very sick he was and the hen was very sorry for him.At two o’clock the fox came and knocked at the door. The hen was frightened almost to death. “Never mind,” said the monkey, “you can hide here under my bed.”The hen hid under the monkey’s bed and the monkey in a weak, low voice invited the fox to enter. The monkey told the fox how very ill he was and the fox was very sorry for him.At three o’clock the dog came and knocked at the door. The fox was frightened almost to death. “Never mind,” said the monkey; “hide here under my bed and everything will be all right.”The fox hid under the monkey’s bed and the monkey, in a low, weak voice, invited the dog to enter. The monkey told the dog how very sick he was and the dog was very sorry for him.At four the tiger came and knocked at the door. The dog was frightened almost to death. “Never mind,” said the monkey. “Hide here under my bed and everything will be all right.”The dog hid under the monkey’s bed. Then the monkey invited the tiger to enter. He told, the tiger how very sick he was but the tiger was not at all sorry for him. He sprang at the bed, demanding in a loud, fierce voice that the monkey pay back the meal at once, as he had promised to do. The monkey escaped to the tree tops, but the bed broke down under the tiger’s weight.Then the fox ate up the hen and the dog ate up the fox and the tiger ate up the dog. The tiger is still trying to catch the monkey.
Once upon a time there was a descendant of Confucius. His father had a friend, and this friend held an official position in the South and offered the young man a place as secretary. But when the latter reached the town where he was to have been active, he found that his father’s friend had already died. Then he was much embarrassed, seeing that he did not have the means to return home again. So he was glad to take refuge in the Monastery of Puto, where he copied holy books for the abbot.About a hundred paces west of the monastery stood a deserted house. One day there had been a great snowfall, and as young Kung accidentally passed by the door of the house, he noticed a well dressed and prepossessing youth standing there who bowed to him and begged him to approach. Now young Kung was a scholar, and could appreciate good manners. Finding that the youth and himself had much in common, he took a liking to him, and followed him into the house. It was immaculately clean; silk curtains hung before the doors, and on the walls were pictures of good old masters. On a table lay a book entitled: “Tales of the Coral Ring.” Coral Ring was the name of a cavern.Once upon a time there lived a monk at Puto who was exceedingly learned. An aged man had led him into the cave in question, where he had seen a number of volumes on the book stands. The aged man had said: “These are the histories of the various dynasties.” In a second room were to be found the histories of all the peoples on earth. A third was guarded by two dogs. The aged man explained: “In this room are kept the secret reports of the immortals, telling the arts by means of which they gained eternal life. The two dogs are two dragons.” The monk turned the pages of the books, and found that they were all works of ancient times, such as he had never seen before. He would gladly have remained in the cave, but the old man said: “That would not do!” and a boy led him out again. The name of that cave, however, was the Coral Ring, and it was described in the volume which lay on the table.The youth questioned Kung regarding his name and family, and the latter told him his whole history. The youth pitied him greatly and advised him to open a school.Kung answered with a sigh: “I am quite unknown in the neighborhood, and have no one to recommend me!”Said the youth: “If you do not consider me altogether too unworthy and stupid, I should like to be your pupil myself.”Young Kung was overjoyed. “I should not dare to attempt to teach you,” he replied, “but together we might dedicate ourselves to the study of science.” He then asked why the house had been standing empty for so long.The youth answered: “The owner of the house has gone to the country. We come from Shensi, and have taken the house for a short time. We only moved in a few days ago.”They chatted and joked together gaily, and the young man invited Kung to remain overnight, ordering a small boy to light a pan of charcoal.Then he stepped rapidly into the rear room and soon returned saying: “My father has come.”As Kung rose an aged man with a long, white beard and eyebrows stepped into the room and said, greeting him: “You have already declared your willingness to instruct my son, and I am grateful for your kindness. But you must be strict with him and not treat him as a friend.”Then he had garments of silk, a fur cap, and shoes and socks of fur brought in, and begged Kung to change his clothes. Wine and food were then served. The cushions and covers of the tables and chairs were made of stuffs unknown to Kung, and their shimmering radiance blinded the eye. The aged man retired after a few beakers of wine, and then the youth showed Kung his essays. They were all written in the style of the old masters and not in the new-fangled eight-section form.When he was asked about this, the youth said with a smile: “I am quite indifferent to winning success at the state examinations!” Then he turned to the small boy and said: “See whether the old gentleman has already fallen asleep. If he has, you may quietly bring in little Hiang-Nu.”The boy went off, and the youth took a lute from an embroidered case. At once a serving-maid entered, dressed in red, and surpassingly beautiful. The youth bade her sing “The Lament of the Beloved,” and her melting tones moved the heart. The third watch of the night had passed before they retired to sleep.On the following morning all rose early and study began. The youth was exceptionally gifted. Whatever he had seen but once was graven in his memory. Hence he made surprising progress in the course of a few months. The old custom was followed of writing an essay every five days, and celebrating its completion with a little banquet. And at each banquet Hiang-Nu was sent for.One evening Kung could not remove his glance from Hiang-Nu. The youth guessed his thoughts and said to him: “You are as yet unmarried. Early and late I keep thinking as to how I can provide you with a charming life companion. Hiang-Nu is the serving-maid of my father, so I cannot give her to you.”Said Kung: “I am grateful to you for your friendly thought. But if the girl you have in mind is not just as beautiful as Hiang-Nu, then I would rather do without.”The youth laughed: “You are indeed inexperienced if you think that Hiang-Nu is beautiful. Your wish is easily fulfilled.”Thus half a year went by and the monotonous rainy season had just began. Then a swelling the size of a peach developed in young Kung’s breast, which increased over night until it was as large as a tea-cup. He lay on his couch groaning with pain, and unable to eat or to sleep. The youth was busy day and night nursing him, and even the old gentleman asked how he was getting along.Then the youth said: “My little sister Giauna alone is able to cure this illness. Please send to grandmother, and have her brought here!”The old gentleman was willing, and he sent off his boy.The next day the boy came back with the news that Giauna would come, together with her aunt and her cousin A-Sung.Not long after the youth led his sister into the room. She was not more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, enchantingly beautiful, and slender as a willow-tree. When the sick man saw her he forgot all his pain and his spirits rose.The youth said to his sister Giauna: “This is my best friend, whom I love as a brother! I beg of you, little sister, to cure him of his illness!”The maiden blushed with confusion; then she stepped up to the sick-bed. While she was feeling his pulse, it seemed to him as though she brought the fragrance of orchards with her.Said the maiden with a smile: “No wonder that this illness has befallen him. His heart beats far too stormily. His illness is serious but not incurable. Now the blood which has flowed has already gathered, so we will have to cut to cure.”With that she took her golden armlet from her arm and laid it on the aching place. She pressed it down very gently, and the swelling rose a full inch above the armlet so that it enclosed the entire swelling. Then she loosed a pen-knife with a blade as thin as paper from her silken girdle. With one hand she held the armlet, and with the other she took the knife and lightly passed it around the bottom of the ring. Black blood gushed forth and ran over mattress and bed. But young Kung was so enchanted by the presence of the beautiful Giauna that not only did he feel no pain, but his one fear was that the whole affair might end too soon, and that she would disappear from his sight. In a moment the diseased flesh had been cut away, and Giauna had fresh water brought and cleansed the wound. Then she took a small red pellet from her mouth, and laid it on the wound, and when she turned around in a circle, it seemed to Kung as though she drew out all the inflammation in steam and flames. Once more she turned in a circle, and he felt his wound itch and quiver, and when she turned for the third time, he was completely cured.The maiden took the pellet into her mouth again and said: “Now all is well!” Then she hastened into the inner room. Young Kung leaped up in order to thank her.True, he was now cured of his illness, but his thoughts continued to dwell on Giauna’s pretty face. He neglected his books and sat lost in day-dreams.His friend had noticed it and said to him: “I have at last succeeded, this very day, in finding an attractive life companion for you.”Kung asked who she might be.“The daughter of my aunt, A-Sung. She is seventeen years of age, and anything but homely.”“I am sure she is not as beautiful as Giauna,” thought Kung. Then he hummed the lines of a song to himself:“Who once has seen the sea close by, All rivers shallow streams declares; Who o’er Wu’s hill the clouds watched fly, Says nothing with that view compares.”The youth smiled. “My little sister Giauna is still very young,” said he. “Besides, she is my father’s only daughter, and he would not like to see her marry some one from afar. But my cousin A-Sung is not homely either. If you do not believe me, wait until they go walking in the garden, and then you may take a look at them without their knowing it.”Kung posted himself at the open window on the look-out, and sure enough, he saw Giauna come along leading another girl by the hand, a girl so beautiful that there was none other like her. Giauna and she seemed to be sisters, only to be told apart by a slight difference in age.Then young Kung was exceedingly happy and begged his friend to act for him in arranging the marriage, which the latter promised to do. The next day he came to Kung, and told him amid congratulations that everything was arranged. A special court was put in order for the young pair, and the wedding was celebrated. Young Kung felt as though he had married a fairy, and the two became very fond of each other.One day Kung’s friend came to him in a state of great excitement and said: “The owner of this house is coming back, and my father now wishes to return to Shensi. The time for us to part draws near, and I am very sad!”Kung wished to accompany them, but his friend advised him to return to his own home.Kung mentioned the difficulties in the way, but the youth replied: “That need not worry you, because I will accompany you.”After a time the father came, together with A-Sung, and made Kung a present of a hundred ounces of gold. Then the youth took Kung and his wife by the hand, and told them to close their eyes. As soon as they did so off they went through the air like a storm-wind. All Kung could notice was that the gale roared about his ears.When some time had passed the youth cried: “Now we have arrived!” Kung opened his eyes and saw his old home, and then he knew that his friend was not of human kind.Gaily they knocked at the door of his home. His mother opened it and when she saw that he had brought along so charming a wife she was greatly pleased. Then Kung turned around to his friend, but the latter had already disappeared.A-Sung served her mother-in-law with great devotion, and her beauty and virtue was celebrated far and near. Soon after young Kung gained the doctorate, and was appointed inspector of prisons in Shensi. He took his wife along with him, but his mother remained at home, since Shensi was too far for her to travel. And heaven gave A-Sung and Kung a little son.But Kung became involved in a dispute with a traveling censor. The latter complained about Kung and he was dismissed from his post.So it happened that one day he was idling about before the city, when he saw a handsome youth riding a black mule. When he looked more closely he saw that it was his old friend. They fell into each others’ arms, laughing and weeping, and the youth led him to a village. In the midst of a thick grove of trees which threw a deep shade, stood a house whose upper stories rose to the skies. One could see at a glance that people of distinction lived there. Kung now inquired after sister Giauna, and was told that she had married. He remained over night and then went off to fetch his wife.In the meantime Giauna arrived. She took A-Sung’s little son in her arms and said: “Cousin, this is a little stranger in our family!”Kung greeted her, and again thanked her for the kindness she had shown him in curing his illness.She answered with a smile: “Since then you have become a distinguished man, and the wound has long since healed. Have you still not forgotten your pain?”Then Giauna’s husband arrived, and every one became acquainted. And after that they parted.One day the youth came sadly to Kung and said: “We are threatened by a great misfortune to-day. I do not know whether you would be willing to save us!”Kung did not know what it might be; but he gladly promised his aid. Then the youth called up the entire family and they bowed down in the outer court.He began: “I will tell you the truth just as it is. We are foxes. This day we are threatened by the danger of thunder. If you care to save us, then there is a hope that we may manage to stay alive; if not, then take your child and go, so that you are not involved in our danger.”But Kung vowed that he would share life and death with them.Then the youth begged him to stand in the door with a sword in his hand, and said: “Now when the thunder begins to roll you must stand there and never stir.”Suddenly dark clouds rose in the sky, and the heavens grew gloomy as if night were closing down. Kung looked about him, but the buildings had all disappeared, and behind him he could only see a high barrow, in which was a large cave whose interior was lost in darkness. In the midst of his fright he was surprised by a thunderbolt. A heavy rain poured down in streams, and a storm wind arose which rooted up the tallest trees. Everything glimmered before his eyes and his ears were deafened. But he held his sword in his hand, and stood as firm as a rock. Suddenly in the midst of black smoke and flashes of lightning, he saw a monster with a pointed beak and long claws, which was carrying off a human body. When he looked more closely he recognized by the dress that it was Giauna. He leaped up at the monster and struck at him with his sword, and at once Giauna fell to the ground. A tremendous crash of thunder shook the earth, and Kung fell down dead.Then the tempest cleared away, and the blue sky appeared once more.Giauna had regained consciousness, and when she saw Kung lying dead beside her she said amid sobs: “He died for my sake! Why should I continue to live?”A-Sung also came out, and together they carried him into the cave. Giauna told A-Sung to hold his head while her brother opened his mouth. She herself took hold of his chin, and brought out her little red pellet. She pressed it against his lips with her own, and breathed into his lungs. Then the breath came back to his throat with a rattling noise, and in a short time he was himself once more.So there was the whole family reunited again, and none of its members had come to harm. They gradually recovered from their fright, and were quite happy: when suddenly a small boy brought the news that Giauna’s husband and his whole family had been killed by the thunder. Giauna broke down, weeping, and the others tried to comfort her.Finally Kung said: “It is not well to dwell too long amid the graves of the dead. Will you not come home with me?”Thereupon they packed up their belongings and went with him. He assigned a deserted garden, which he carefully walled off, to his friend and his family as a dwelling-place. Only when Kung and A-Sung came to visit them was the bolt drawn. Then Giauna and her brother played chess, drank tea and chatted with them like members of the same family.But Kung’s little son had a somewhat pointed face, which resembled a fox’s, and when he went along the street, the people would turn around and say: “There goes the fox-child!”Note: “Not in the new-fangled eight-section form”: Ba Gu Wen Dschang, i.e., essays in eight-section form, divided according to strict rules, were the customary theses in the governmental examinations in China up to the time of the great educational reform. To-day there is a general return to the style of the old masters, the free form of composition. “The danger of thunder”: Three times the foxes must have escaped the mortal danger of thunder.
Long, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin in Japan, a traveling monkey-man, who earned his living by taking round a monkey and showing off the animal’s tricks.One evening the man came home in a very bad temper and told his wife to send for the butcher the next morning.The wife was very bewildered and asked her husband:“Why do you wish me to send for the butcher?”“It’s no use taking that monkey round any longer, he’s too old and forgets his tricks. I beat him with my stick all I know how, but he won’t dance properly. I must now sell him to the butcher and make what money out of him I can. There is nothing else to be done.”The woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and pleaded for her husband to spare the monkey, but her pleading was all in vain, the man was determined to sell him to the butcher.Now the monkey was in the next room and overheard ever word of the conversation. He soon understood that he was to be killed, and he said to himself:“Barbarous, indeed, is my master! Here I have served him faithfully for years, and instead of allowing me to end my days comfortably and in peace, he is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my poor body is to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me! What am I to do. Ah! a bright thought has struck me! There is, I know, a wild bear living in the forest near by. I have often heard tell of his wisdom. Perhaps if I go to him and tell him the strait I am in he will give me his counsel. I will go and try.”There was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the house and ran as quickly as he could to the forest to find the boar. The boar was at home, and the monkey began his tale of woe at once.“Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I am in great trouble, you alone can help me. I have grown old in the service of my master, and because I cannot dance properly now he intends to sell me to the butcher. What do you advise me to do? I know how clever you are!”The boar was pleased at the flattery and determined to help the monkey. He thought for a little while and then said:“Hasn’t your master a baby?”“Oh, yes,” said the monkey, “he has one infant son.”“Doesn’t it lie by the door in the morning when your mistress begins the work of the day? Well, I will come round early and when I see my opportunity I will seize the child and run off with it.”“What then?” said the monkey.“Why the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before your master and mistress know what to do, you must run after me and rescue the child and take it home safely to its parents, and you will see that when the butcher comes they won’t have the heart to sell you.”The monkey thanked the boar many times and then went home. He did not sleep much that night, as you may imagine, for thinking of the morrow. His life depended on whether the boar’s plan succeeded or not. He was the first up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen. It seemed to him a very long time before his master’s wife began to move about and open the shutters to let in the light of day. Then all happened as the boar had planned. The mother placed her child near the porch as usual while she tidied up the house and got her breakfast ready.The child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight, dabbing on the mats at the play of light and shadow. Suddenly there was a noise in the porch and a loud cry from the child. The mother ran out from the kitchen to the spot, only just in time to see the boar disappearing through the gate with her child in its clutch. She flung out her hands with a loud cry of despair and rushed into the inner room where her husband was still sleeping soundly.He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, and crossly demanded what his wife was making all that noise about. By the time that the man was alive to what had happened, and they both got outside the gate, the boar had got well away, but they saw the monkey running after the thief as hard as his legs would carry him.Both the man and wife were moved to admiration at the plucky conduct of the sagacious monkey, and their gratitude knew no bounds when the faithful monkey brought the child safely back to their arms.“There!” said the wife. “This is the animal you want to kill—if the monkey hadn’t been here we should have lost our child forever.”“You are right, wife, for once,” said the man as he carried the child into the house. “You may send the butcher back when he comes, and now give us all a good breakfast and the monkey too.”When the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order for some boar’s meat for the evening dinner, and the monkey was petted and lived the rest of his days in peace, nor did his master ever strike him again.
‘Story-tellers! it’s false!’ said, lastly, the Wind; ‘that man presented the salutation not to you two, but to me.’They began to jangle and quarrel together, and all but pulled the mantles off each other’s backs. ‘Well, if it’s so, let’s ask him to whom he presented the salutation, to me or to you?’ They overtook the man and asked him; then he said: ‘To the Wind.’ ‘Didn’t I say that it was to me?’‘Stop you! I’ll give you a baking, you rascal!’ said the Sun; ‘you shall remember me.’Then said the Wind: ‘Never fear, he won’t bake you; I shall blow and cool him.’‘So will I freeze you up, you scoundrel!’ said the Frost. ‘Don’t be frightened, poor fellow! then I shan’t blow, and he’ll do nothing to you; he doesn’t freeze you up without a wind.’
There was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon, and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let it run out of his mouth. His son and his son’s wife were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes full of tears.{Listen to The Old Man and His Grandson plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for Apple and Android devices}“The Old Man had to sit by himself and ate his food from a wooden bowl.” Illustration by Arthur Rackham, published in Hansel & Grethel & Other Tales by Brothers Grimm (1920), E.P. Dutton and Company.Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they bought him a wooden bowl for a few half-pence, out of which he had to eat.They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. “What are you doing there?” asked the father. “I am making a little trough,” answered the child, “for father and mother to eat out of when I am big.”The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently began to cry. Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and hence- forth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anything.
After Ball-Carrier had managed to drown the Bad One so that he could not do any more mischief, he forgot the way to his grandmother’s house, and could not find it again, though he searched everywhere. During this time he wandered into many strange places, and had many adventures; and one day he came to a hut where a young girl lived. He was tired and hungry and begged her to let him in and rest, and he stayed a long while, and the girl became his wife. One morning he saw two children playing in front of the hut, and went out to speak to them. But as soon as they saw him they set up cries of horror and ran away. ‘They are the children of my sister who has been on a long journey,’ replied his wife, ‘and now that she knows you are my husband she wants to kill you.’‘Oh, well, let her try,’ replied Ball-Carrier. ‘It is not the first time people have wished to do that. And here I am still, you see!’‘Be careful,’ said the wife, ‘ she is very cunning.’ But at this moment the sister-in-law came up.‘How do you do, brother-in-law? I have heard of you so often that I am very glad to meet you. I am told that you are more powerful than any man on earth, and as I am powerful too, let us try which is the strongest.’‘That will be delightful,’ answered he. ‘Suppose we begin with a short race, and then we will go on to other things.’‘ That will suit me very well,’ replied the woman, who was a witch. ‘And let us agree that the one who wins shall have the right to kill the other.’‘Oh, certainly,’ said Ball-Carrier;’ and I don’t think we shall find a flatter course than the prairie itself–no one knows how many miles it stretches. We will run to the end and back again.’This being settled they both made ready for the race, and Ball-Carrier silently begged the good spirits to help him, and not to let him fall into the hands of this wicked witch.‘When the sun touches the trunk of that tree we will start,’ said she, as they both stood side by side. But with the first step Ball-Carrier changed himself into a wolf and for a long way kept ahead. Then gradually he heard her creeping up behind him, and soon she was in front. So Ball-Carrier took the shape of a pigeon and flew rapidly past her, but in a little while she was in front again and the end of the prairie was in sight. ‘A crow can fly faster than a pigeon,’ thought he, and as a crow he managed to pass her and held his ground so long that he fancied she was quite beaten. The witch began to be afraid of it too, and putting out all her strength slipped past him. Next he put on the shape of a hawk, and in this form he reached the bounds of the prairie, he and the witch turning homewards at the moment.Bird after bird he tried, but every time the witch gained on him and took the lead. At length the goal was in sight, and Ball-Carrier knew that unless he could get ahead now he would be killed before his own door, under the eyes of his wife. His eyes had grown dim from fatigue, his wings flapped wearily and hardly bore him along, while the witch seemed as fresh as ever. What bird was there whose flight was swifter than his? Would not the good spirits tell him? Ah, of course he knew; why had he not thought of it at first and spared himself all that fatigue? And the next instant a humming bird, dressed in green and blue, flashed past the woman and entered the house. The witch came panting up, furious at having lost the race which she felt certain of winning; and Ball-Carrier, who had by this time changed back into his own shape, struck her on the head and killed her.For a long while Ball-Carrier was content to stay quietly at home with his wife and children, for he was tired of adventures, and only did enough hunting to supply the house with food. But one day he happened to eat some poisonous berries that he had found in the forest, and grew so ill that he felt he was going to die.‘When I am dead do not bury me in the earth,’ he said, ‘but put me over there, among that clump of trees.’ So his wife and her three children watched by him as long as he was alive, and after he was dead they took him up and laid the body on a platform of stakes which they had prepared in the grove. And as they returned weeping to the hut they caught a glimpse of the ball rolling away down the path back to the old grandmother. One of the sons sprang forward to stop it, for Ball-Carrier had often told them the tale of how it had helped him to cross the river, but it was too quick for him, and they had to content themselves with the war club and bow and arrows, which were put carefully away.By-and-by some travellers came past, and the chief among them asked leave to marry Ball-Carrier’s daughter. The mother said she must have a little time to think over it, as her daughter was still very young; so it was settled that the man should go away for a month with his friends, and then come back to see if the girl was willing.Now ever since Ball-Carrier’s death the family had been very poor, and often could not get enough to eat. One morning the girl, who had had no supper and no breakfast, wandered off to look for cranberries, and though she was quite near home was astonished at noticing a large hut, which certainly had not been there when last she had come that way. No one was about, so she ventured to peep in, and her surprise was increased at seeing, heaped up in one corner, a quantity of food of all sorts, while a little robin redbreast stood perched on a beam looking down upon her.‘It is my father, I am sure,’ she cried; and the bird piped in answer.From that day, whenever they wanted food they went to the hut, and though the robin could not speak, he would hop on their shoulders and let them feed him with the food they knew he liked best.When the man came back he found the girl looking so much prettier and fatter than when he had left her, that he insisted that they should be married on the spot. And the mother, who did not know how to get rid of him, gave in.The husband spent all his time in hunting, and the family had never had so much meat before; but the man, who had seen for himself how poor they were, noticed with amazement that they did not seem to care about it, or to be hungry. ‘They must get food from somewhere,’ he thought, and one morning, when he pretended to be going out to hunt, he hid in a thicket to watch. Very soon they all left the house together, and walked to the other hut, which the girl’s husband saw for the first time, as it was hid in a hollow. He followed, and noticed that each one went up to the redbreast, and shook him by the claw; and he then entered boldly and shook the bird’s claw too. The whole party afterwards sat down to dinner, after which they all returned to their own hut.The next day the husband declared that he was very ill, and could not eat anything; but this was only a presence so that he might get what he wanted. The family were all much distressed, and begged him to tell them what food he fancied.‘Oh! I could not eat any food,’ he answered every time, and at each answer his voice grew fainter and fainter, till they thought he would die from weakness before their eyes.‘There must be some thing you could take, if you would only say what it is,’ implored his wife.‘No, nothing, nothing; except, perhaps–but of course that is impossible!’‘No, I am sure it is not,’ replied she; ‘ you shall have it, I promise–only tell me what it is.’‘I think–but I could not ask you to do such a thing. Leave me alone, and let me die quietly.’‘You shall not die,’ cried the girl, who was very fond of her husband, for he did not beat her as most girls’ husbands did. ‘Whatever it is, I will manage to get it for you.’‘Well, then, I think, if I had that–redbreast, nicely roasted, I could eat a little bit of his wing!’The wife started back in horror at such a request; but the man turned his face to the wall, and took no notice, as he thought it was better to leave her to herself for a little.Weeping and wringing her hands, the girl went down to her mother. The brothers were very angry when they heard the story, and declared that, if any one were to die, it certainly should not be the robin. But all that night the man seemed getting weaker and weaker, and at last, quite early, the wife crept out, and stealing to the hut, killed the bird, and brought him home to her husband.Just as she was going to cook it her two brothers came in. They cried out in horror at the sight, and, rushing out of the hut, declared they would never see her any more. And the poor girl, with a heavy heart, took the body of the redbreast up to her husband.But directly she entered the room the man told her that he felt a great deal better, and that he would rather have a piece of bear’s flesh, well boiled, than any bird, however tender. His wife felt very miserable to think that their beloved redbreast had been sacrificed for nothing, and begged him to try a little bit.‘You felt so sure that it would do you good before,’ said she, ‘that I can’t help thinking it would quite cure you now.’ But the man only flew into a rage, and flung the bird out of the window. Then he got up and went out.Now all this while the ball had been rolling, rolling, rolling to the old grandmother’s hut on the other side of the world, and directly it rolled into her hut she knew that her grandson must be dead. Without wasting any time she took a fox skin and tied it round her forehead, and fastened another round her waist, as witches always do when they leave their own homes. When she was ready she said to the ball: ‘ Go back the way you came, and lead me to my grandson.’ And the ball started with the old woman following.It was a long journey, even for a witch, but, like other things, it ended at last; and the old woman stood before the platform of stakes, where the body of Ball-Carrier lay.‘Wake up, my grandson, it is time to go home,’ the witch said. And Ball-Carrier stepped down oft the platform, and brought his club and bow and arrows out of the hut, and set out, for the other side of the world, behind the old woman.When they reached the hut where Ball-Carrier had fasted so many years ago, the old woman spoke for the first time since they had started on their way.‘My grandson, did you ever manage to get that gold from the Bad One?’‘Yes, grandmother, I got it.’‘Where is it?’ she asked.‘Here, in my left arm-pit,’ answered he.So she picked up a knife and scraped away all the gold which had stuck to his skin, and which had been sticking there ever since he first stole it. After she had finished she asked again:‘My grandson, did you manage to get that bridge from the Bad One?’‘Yes, grandmother, I got that too,’ answered he.‘Where is it?’ she asked, and Ball-Carrier lifted his right arm, and pointed to his arm-pit.‘Here is the bridge, grandmother,’ said he.Then the witch did something that nobody in the world could have guessed that she would do. First, she took the gold and said to Ball-carrier:‘My grandson, this gold must be hidden in the earth, for if people think they can get it when they choose, they will become lazy and stupid. But if we take it and bury it in different parts of the world they will have to work for it if they want it, and then will only find a little at a time.’ And as she spoke, she pulled up one of the poles of the hut, and Ball-Carrier saw that underneath was a deep, deep hole, which seemed to have no bottom. Down this hole she poured all the gold, and when it was out of sight it ran about all over the world, where people that dig hard sometimes find it. And after that was done she put the pole back again.Next she lifted down a spade from a high shelf, where it had grown quite rusty, and dug a very small hole on the opposite side of the hut–very small, but very deep.‘Give me the bridge,’ said she, ‘ for I am going to bury it here. If anyone was to get hold of it, and find that they could cross rivers and seas without any trouble, they would never discover how to cross them for themselves. I am a witch, and if I had chosen I could easily have cast my spells over the Bad One, and have made him deliver them to you the first day you came into my hut. But then you would never have fasted, and never have planned how to get what you wanted, and never have known the good spirits, and would have been fat and idle to the end of your days. And now go; in that hut, which you can just see far away, live your father and mother, who are old people now, and need a son to hunt for them. You have done what you were set to do, and I need you no more.’Then Ball-Carrier remembered his parents and went back to them.
When the rice had grown tall and it was near the time for it to ripen, Aponitolau and Aponibolinayen grew fearful lest the wild pigs should break in and destroy all their crop, so they sent their son, Kanag, to the field to guard the grain. Kanag willingly went to the place, but when he found that the fences were all strong so that the pigs could not get in, and he was left with nothing to do, life in the little watch-house grew lonely, and the boy became very unhappy.Each day Aponitolau carried cooked rice and meat to his son in the field, but Kanag could not eat and always bade his father hang it in the watch-house until he should want it Each time Aponitolau found the food of the day before still untouched, and he began to suspect that the boy was unhappy at having to guard the grain. But he said nothing of his fears to Aponibolinayen.One day after his father had returned home, Kanag was so lonely that he used his magical power and became a little bird and flew up into the top of a tree. The next day when Aponitolau came to the field he looked everywhere for his son, and when he could not find him he called, and from the top of a bamboo tree a little bird answered him. Realizing what had happened, the father was very sad and begged his son to come back and be a boy again, but Kanag only answered:“I would rather be a bird and carry the messages of the spirits to the people.”At last the father went home alone, and he and the boy’s mother were filled with grief that they had lost their son.Some time after this, Aponitolau prepared to go out to fight. He took his spear and shield and head-ax and started early one morning, but when he reached the gate of the town, Kanag flew over him, giving him a bad sign, so he turned back. The next morning he started again, and this time the little bird gave him a good sign, and knowing that nothing would injure him, he went on.After a long journey he reached a hostile town where the people said they were glad to see him, and added that because he was the first of his people who had dared to enter their town they intended to keep him there.“Oh,” said Aponitolau, “if you say that I cannot return home, call all your people together and we will fight.”“You are very brave,” answered his enemies, “if you wish to fight us all.”And when the people had gathered together they laughed at him and said, “Why, one of our fingers would fight you.”Nevertheless, Aponitolau prepared to fight, and when the bravest of the enemy threw his spear and head-ax at him he jumped and escaped. They noticed that he jumped very high, so they all ran at him, throwing their spears and trying to kill him.But Aponitolau caught all their weapons, and then while they were unarmed he threw his own spear, and it flew about among them until it had killed them all. Then he sent his head-ax, and it cut off all the heads of the enemy; and he used magical power so that these heads went to his home in Kadalayapan.After that Aponitolau sat down by the gate of the town to rest, and the little bird, flying over his head, called down:“The sign that I gave you was good, Father, and you have killed all your enemies.”“Yes,” said the man, and as he started on the home-ward journey the little bird always flew near him. When he reached home, he stuck the heads around the town, and commanded the people to go out all over the world and invite everyone and especially the pretty girls to come to a party in celebration of his victory.The people came from all parts of the world, and while they played on the gongs and danced, Aponitolau called to Kanag and said:“Come down, my son; do not stay always in the tops of the trees. Come and see the pretty girls and see which one you want to marry. Get the golden cup and give them basi to drink.”But Kanag answered, “I would rather stay in the tops of the trees and give the signs when anyone goes to fight.”Then the father and mother pleaded with him to become a boy once more, begging his forgiveness and promising never again to send him to guard the rice. But he would not listen to them, and only flew away.Finding that they could not win him that way, Aponitolau and Aponibolinayen called the spirit servants, and commanded them to follow Kanag wherever he went, and to find a girl whom he would want to marry. So the spirit servants went after him, and wherever he went they followed.By and by they stopped near a well, and there the spirit servants used magic so that all the pretty girls nearby felt very hot; and in the early morning, they came to the well to bathe. One among them was so beautiful that she looked like a flame of fire among the betel-nut blossoms, and when the servants saw her washing her hair they ran to Kanag and begged him to come and see her. At first he would not listen to them, but after a while he flew into the top of a betel-nut tree near by, and when he caught sight of her, he flew into the tree above her head.“But,” said he to the servants, “what can I do if I become a man now, for I have no clothes and no head-band?”“Do not worry about that,” said the spirit servants, “for we have everything here for you.”So Kanag became a man and put on the clothes and head-band, and he went to speak to the girl. He gave her betel-nut, and they chewed together, and he said:“My name is Kanag and I am the son of Aponitolau and Aponibolinayen.”Then the girl said: “My name is Dapilisan and I am the daughter of Bangan and Dalonagan.”When Dapilisan went home Kanag followed her, and he told her parents his name and how he had changed into a little bird. And when he had finished he asked if he might marry their daughter. Bangan and his wife were greatly pleased that Kanag wanted Dapilisan for his wife, but they were afraid that his parents might object, so they sent a messenger to invite Aponitolau and Aponibolinayen to come to visit them.As soon as Kanag’s parents heard that their son had become a man they were very happy and started at once to go to him, carrying many fine presents. Before arrangements for the wedding could be made, it was necessary to decide on the price to be paid for the girl. A long discussion took place. Bangan and Dalonagan finally said that the spirit house must be filled nine times with different kinds of jars.When this was done Dalonagan raised her eyebrows, and half of the jars disappeared. Aponibolinayen used her magical power and the spirit house was filled again, and then Dalonagan said to her:“Now the web of the spider shall be put around the town and you must put gold beads on it. If it does not break, Kanag may marry Dapilisan.”When Aponibolinayen had put the gold beads on the thread, Dalonagan hung on it to see if it would hold. As it did not break, she declared that the sign was good; and Kanag and Dapilisan were married.Then the people played on the copper gongs, danced, and made merry for a long time, and when they returned to their homes Kanag and his bride went with Aponitolau and Aponibolinayen.
There was once upon a time a mother who gave birth to Kraljevitch Marko. She reared him, and placed him in a position to become a hero. When Marko was growing up he was obliged to feed swine, but he was then weakly, and so dwarfish a lad that his comrades were able to beat him, and wanted him to be a sort of servant for them and tend their swine. But he was not willing to do this, so they beat him and lugged him by the hair, so that he was obliged to run away from them. He got away, and went into the fields, and there roamed about, thinking: ‘They would be beating me all day, now one, now another of them; but as it is, when I go to them in the evening, they will only beat me once.’ As he roamed about, he came up to a baby. He saw that it was a handsome one, and that it was lying in the sun. He made it a cool shade with branches, and went a little way off and sat down. As he thus sat, up came a Vila, and said to herself: ‘Gracious God! who has done this? Let him ask me for anything in the world; I will give it him.’ He heard this, approached, and said: ‘Sister, I have done this for you.’ ‘You have done it, little brother? Come! what do you ask of me in return, that I may reward you for being so good as to make a cool shade for my baby?’ ‘Ah, dear sister! what I should ask you, you could not give me.’ ‘Well, what is such a mighty matter? only tell me.’ He was thinking of this, that his comrades might not beat him at the pasture; therefore he said that he should wish that they should not beat him. She replied: ‘Well, if that is what you wish for, come and suck my breast.’ He obeyed her, went and sucked. When he had finished sucking, the Vila said to him: ‘Well, go now and heave yon stone, and try whether you can heave it up.’ The stone was twelve hundredweight. He went to heave it, but could not stir it from its place. Then the Vila said to him: ‘Come and suck again; when you have done sucking, go and heave it.’ He went to suck, and when he had finished, went to heave it, but only lifted it a little. Then he went again to suck, with such effect that he could already cast it a little way. He went to suck once more. Then he was already able to cast it to a great height and over hills, so that it was no more to be found. Once more she bade him come to suck. He sucked his fill, and then she said to him: ‘Go now whithersoever you will; no one will beat you any more—no, not your comrades.’ He went merrily to the herdsmen, and they called to him: ‘Where have you been that we are obliged to tend your swine?’ and rushed upon him to beat him. He only waited for them. When they came up to him, he seized one, knocked them down, and the one who was in his hands was quite squashed, with such force had he taken hold of him. The other shepherds, who saw what he did, ran to the home of those whom he had knocked down, saying: ‘Marko has knocked down your son, and so-and-so’s, and so-and-so’s.’ They all went to his mother: ‘What manner of son is this that you have reared up?—a brigand, who kills our children!’ She was terrified out of her wits, thinking what her son had done. She began to revile him: ‘Sonny, never did my eye see that you did anything; wherefore do you thus to me, that other people come to revile me because of your doings? Go! I shall be glad if my eye never sees you more. Why do you put me to shame?’ ‘Well, then, good! if so you say, I will go into the world.’ ‘Only go that I may never see you.’ ‘Well, then, good! go I will.’He went. Now, he thought to himself: ‘What shall I do? I am a hero, but I have not what a hero requires.’ Then he went to a smith, at whose smithy were five-and-twenty smiths. ‘God help you, smith!’ ‘God help you, Kraljevitch Marko! why have you come to me?’ ‘I have come to you that you may forge me a sword weighing twelve hundredweight; then you shall also forge me a mace, if you make the sword well; but you must know that it must be stronger than your anvil. If it cuts it through, you shall receive payment; otherwise, not. Have you understood me?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, then make it now.’ All five-and-twenty smiths went immediately and forged the sword. When it was ready, Marko came. ‘Well, smith, have you got it ready?’ ‘Yes, Marko.’ ‘Now come, let me see.’ Marko struck, but the sword broke into two pieces, and not the anvil. ‘Ah! friend smith, you’ve not done it well; you get no pay.’ He went on to another smith. ‘God help you, smith!’ ‘God help you, Kraljevitch Marko! What work do you want done?’ ‘I have come to you to make me a sword weighing twelve hundredweight, and to make it stronger than your anvil, because, if it cuts through your anvil, you will receive payment; if not, you will get nothing. Have you understood me?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then make it.’ Then up came the thirty smiths, worked at the sword, and worked until they had finished forging it. Marko came: ‘Well, smith, is the sword ready?’ ‘It is, Marko.’ ‘Show it me that I may see it.’ Marko took it, struck, cut through the anvil, and cut right into the block. ‘Well, smith, you’ve made it well. Now that you’ve made me a sword, make me also a sheath for the sword, and also a club, that is, a mace, weighing twelve hundredweight, then I will pay you all at once. But when I throw the mace, it must not break; if it breaks, then you get no payment.’ He made him a mace also, but did not make it well. When Marko threw it, he let it fall upon himself, and the mace broke. Then said Marko: ‘You have made me the sword well, but not the mace. Reach out your hand that I may pay you for the sword.’ The smith reached out his hand, and Marko cut it off with the sword, saying: ‘There’s your payment, smith, for the sword, that you may no more make such swords for any hero.’ Then he went to a third smith, with whom thirty-eight smiths were at work, and said: ‘God help you, smith!’ ‘God requite you, Marko! why have you come to me?’ ‘I have come to you to make me a club, that is, a mace, weighing twelve hundredweight; I tell you the truth, if I throw it up on high, and it breaks when it falls, you get no payment.’ All thirty-eight smiths worked till they forged it. Marko came: ‘Well, is the mace ready?’ ‘It is, Marko.’ ‘Show it, that I may see it.’ When he gave it him, he threw it so high into the air that it was three days and three nights in the sky. When it came down, Marko presented his back; it fell upon him, and cast him to the ground, and blood flowed from his nose and teeth, but the mace remained sound. But Marko sprang up quickly, and said to the smith: ‘Ah! dear smith! you’ve made it well for me; reach out your hand that I may pay you.’ He reached out his hand to him, and he cut his hand off with his sword. ‘Let this be your payment, smith, that you may no more make such staves for any hero.’Then he went off to his mother and said to her: ‘Mother, you see in me a hero; if you revile me, I shall go about the world.’ Then his mother began to scold him: ‘Why are you like this? Why don’t you live like other people? You have oxen; go, then, on to the green hill and plough the fallows and pastures, and thereby support your old mother.’ Marko obeyed her, took the oxen, and went. But he didn’t go on to the green hill, to plough the fallows and pastures, but he went and ploughed the emperor’s highroads. When the Turks saw this, they went to Marko—three hundred Turks, all chosen warriors—and said to him: ‘Why, Marko, do you plough the emperor’s highroads? you have the fallows and pastures!’ Then at him, to cut him down. When Marko saw this, he hadn’t with him either his sword or his mace, so seized his plough and felled all three hundred Turks. Then said he: ‘Ah! gracious God! a wondrous hero!’ Then he took the Turks’ gold from them, left his plough, unyoked the oxen, and turned them loose on the green hill: ‘Go, little oxen, on to the green hill, and feed and graze from pine to pine, like the cuckoo; Marko has not managed to plough with you, and now never will he more.’ And home he went singing: ‘Here, mother, you have gold enough, live upon it, and I will go into the world, that your eye may see me no more.’He took his mace and sword, went and came to an inn, where some Turks were drinking red wine and conversing. ‘We should be glad to make the acquaintance of Kraljevitch Marko and see him. We have heard that he is a celebrated hero. His brother Andro is in Stambol here. He is a hero, but they say that he is a still greater hero.’ ‘In whose service is Andro Kraljevitch?’ ‘In that of a pasha; he will soon come riding past here.’ ‘Good; I will wait for him.’ Up came Andro Kraljevitch, riding with the pasha. Marko called out to him: ‘Eh, adopted brother, Kraljevitch Andro!’ ‘Thanks, unknown hero, perhaps you are Kraljevitch Marko?’ ‘Quite true, I am Kraljevitch Marko.’ ‘Good; let us go into the inn to drink a cup of wine, that love and the fortune of heroes may thus unite us. Now we are not afraid of going into combat against any empire.’ So they went on the way to an inn. Kraljevitch Marko said: ‘Prithee, sing me a song, Andro.’ ‘Dear brother, I dare not. The Vila of the cloud would shoot me.’ ‘Don’t be afraid; I am here.’ Andro obeyed, and sang so that all the branches began to fall. All at once a spear flew against Andro and struck him down. Marko looked about to see whence it came, and espied a Vila in the cloud; he seized his mace and threw it at the Vila, so that it at once struck her to the ground. The Vila began to shriek: ‘Let me go, Marko! I will bring Andro back to life, and will give you a wondrous horse, so that you will be able to fly in the air.’ Marko agreed, and she took certain grasses, and brought Andro back to life. Marko obtained the wondrous horse, and both rode off to an inn and drank red wine. But in the inn there was a wicked harlot. She became enamoured of Andro, but he would not even look at her. She therefore put sweet honey into his wine, that he might drink the wine. Marko went out for a short time, and the wicked woman murdered Andro. But when Marko came in he seized the wicked woman, and spitted her on his sword: ‘Take that, wretch, for murdering my brother Andro.’He went on into the world. He roamed hither and thither, and when he met with any hero, he tried the fortune of combat with him, as in his encounter with black Arapin. Arapin built a tower beside the level sea. When he had built it handsomely and raised it high, he said thus to it: ‘Handsomely, my tower, handsomely have I built thee, and high have I raised thee, for I have no father nor mother, no brother nor sister, nor even my beloved, to walk about in thee. But I have a love, the daughter of the emperor Soliman. I will write him the leaf of a white book, and send up to him by a black Tatar; for if he will not give her to me, let him meet me in single combat.’ He wrote the leaf of a white book and sent it by a black Tatar. When Soliman read over the leaf of the white book, he shed tears abundantly, and his empress Solimanitza came to him and questioned him: ‘Why do you weep, emperor Soliman? Ofttimes have letters come for you, and you have not shed abundant tears; what distress is tormenting you?’ He told her this, that black Arapin had written to him, that, if he did not give him his daughter, he must meet him in single combat; and how could he meet him in single combat? She advised him to write the leaf of a white book to Kraljevitch Marko to come, promising to give him three loads of money. He wrote the leaf of a white book and sent it by a black Tatar. When Kraljevitch Marko read over the leaf of the book, he began to laugh greatly: ‘Yes, i’ faith, emperor Soliman! what will your money do for me, if black Arapin severs my head from my shoulders?’ And he said not whether he would go or not go. The emperor Soliman was anxiously expecting the Tatar, who brought to him the words, that Marko neither said that he would come, nor that he would not come. Thereupon the emperor was sorrowful, for he had no such man who would deliver his daughter. There arrived a second letter from black Arapin, that he must give him his daughter; if he did not give her, he must meet him in single combat. As he read it, he shed abundant tears. Thereupon his only daughter came to him and asked him: ‘Why do you weep, emperor Soliman? Letters have ofttimes arrived for you, and you have not shed abundant tears.’ He replied to her: ‘Dear daughter! You see that black Arapin writes to me, that, if I do not give you to him, I must meet him in single combat; and how shall I, poor man that I am, meet him?’ ‘You know, dear father, that there is one hero, Kraljevitch Marko. Write to him, that you will give him nine loads of money, if he will come and meet him in single combat.’ The emperor Soliman wrote to Kraljevitch Marko the leaf of a white book, and sent it to him by a black Tatar. When he read over the leaf of the white book he laughed greatly: ‘I’ faith, emperor Soliman! what will your money be to me, if black Arapin severs my head from my shoulders?’Thereupon he did not say whether he would come or not come. Sorrowful thereat, the emperor did not know what to do. Then came a third letter from black Arapin, that he was coming, and that he must prepare, would he, nould he, to give him his daughter, and that all inns and shops must be shut for fear of him. Thereupon the emperor Soliman shed abundant tears as he read it. His daughter came to him: ‘Why do you weep, emperor Soliman? Letters have ofttimes arrived for you, and you have not shed abundant tears. What distress is assailing you?’ ‘You see, dear daughter, that black Arapin writes to me, that if I don’t give you to him, I must meet him in single combat! But how shall I, poor man, meet him?’ ‘Write, dear father, to Kraljevitch Marko to come, and offer him twelve loads of money, and a shirt which is neither spun nor woven nor bleached, but made of nothing but pure gold, and a serpent that holds a tray in its mouth, and on the tray a golden casket, and in the casket a precious stone, by aid of which you can sup at midnight just as well as at mid-day.’ He wrote the leaf of a white book and sent it to Kraljevitch Marko by a black Tatar, and offered him all that his daughter told him. When Marko read the leaf of the white book, he laughed greatly, and said: ‘I’ faith, emperor Soliman! what will your money do for me, if black Arapin severs my head from my shoulders?’ And then, too, he did not say that he would come or not come. Thereupon came the leaf of a white book from black Arapin, that Arapin had now got ready three hundred heroes, all in silver armour, and all chosen warriors. Then said Kraljevitch Marko to his piebald horse: ‘Eh! piebald horse, my pearl! you know well that you must be faithful to me, for, if not, I shall cut off your feet at the knees, and that you must bear yourself valiantly.’ And the piebald horse replied that he must saddle and mount with speed to go soon, and that black Arapin was already near. Marko saddled and mounted him, and went to the city where the emperor Soliman reigned.‘Well, I’ll go thither; I won’t make quarrels; maybe I shall obtain possession of the damsel without any disturbance.’ And, in fact, thither he went, obtained possession of the damsel, and all that he needed was given him. Then he went again to the inn, and saw the horse again standing there. Again he was about to go to the innkeeper to slay him; but he shouted to the horse, the horse wouldn’t stir. Said Arapin: ‘Well, I won’t make quarrels, now that I have obtained the damsel without any quarrel.’ When Arapin proceeded on his way, Marko came out of the garden, and his piebald horse said to him: ‘Where have you been so long, that Arapin might easily have killed me?’ ‘Now don’t fear, my piebald; we shall soon kill him, please God, not he you.’ Then he called for one more cup of wine for himself, and one for his piebald. When they had finished drinking, they started on their way, and in pursuit of Arapin. Arapin had already told his chief officer to look round to see whether any dark fog came out behind them. He looked round, but saw nothing. But when he afterwards looked round a second time, he espied a dark fog, and said to Arapin: ‘Yes, my lord, a dark foul fog is coming behind us.’ Scarcely had he said this, when Marko attacked, and began to slaughter, his rearguard. Arapin said to him: ‘Don’t be silly, Marko; why are you playing the fool with us? I don’t know whether you are jesting, or playing the fool.’ ‘I am neither jesting nor playing the fool, but am in earnest.’ ‘Do, then, what you can; throw what you have.’ ‘I won’t; but throw you your mace.’ Marko’s piebald threw himself down, and Arapin’s mace went over Marko’s head. Then Marko threw his mace, and felled Arapin to the ground, and the piebald leapt to Arapin, and said to Marko: ‘Come, see that you cut off Arapin’s head.’ When the piebald leapt, Marko, too, struck with his sword, and cut off Arapin’s head, and the piebald quickly leapt backwards thirty paces. Then he left Arapin’s carcase on the ground, gave the head to the damsel, and said: ‘Kiss him, now that he is dead, though you wouldn’t when he was living.’ They went home, and the emperor caused a great entertainment to be prepared, and all Marko’s friends, and his father and mother, to be invited, and Marko obtained his promised reward.So, too, he tried the fortune of combat with Musa Urbanusa. He had three hearts. Marko fought with him for three nights and three white days without cessation, so that red foam already issued from Marko, while not even white foam came from Musa Urbanusa. Then Kraljevitch Marko shouted: ‘Eh! sister Vila!’ The Vila replied: ‘I cannot help you, because the baby has fallen asleep in my arms; but don’t you know your secret weapon?’ Then said Kraljevitch Marko: ‘Look, Musa Urbanusa, whether the sun is now rising or setting.’ Musa looked at the sun, and Marko drew his knife, and ripped Musa up. Musa seized hold of him so powerfully that he barely dug his way out from under Musa, whom he had ripped up. There he lay, and Marko pushed himself sideways, and when he had extricated himself, went to look what there was in this man that was so strong. He saw that Musa had three hearts, one was beating, the second was beginning to beat a little, and the third did not yet know aught about it. On the third he saw a snake lying, and the snake said to Marko: ‘Thank God that I didn’t know of it; you wouldn’t have done what you have done. But open your mouth, Marko, that I may enter into you, that you, too, may be as strong as he was.’ Marko became angry, and cut the snake to pieces, saying: ‘I don’t need such a foul creature as you are.’Then he proceeded on his way, and went about till firearms were invented. He went up to a shepherd, who was shooting birds. Then Marko asked him: ‘What’s this that you are doing?’ ‘Eh! you see, I’m shooting birds; and I could shoot you, also.’ ‘And how would you kill me with this thing? Heroes have not killed me; could you do so?’ Then he reached his hand to him, and said: ‘Shoot into my hand here.’ He shot, and shot through his hand. Then said Marko: ‘It is not worth my while to live any longer in the world; now any cuckoo could slay me; I had rather quit it.’ He went into a cavern, and lives there still at the present day. Into this cavern a man was compelled to go, who was let down by a rope in a chest. When he arrived within, the Vila immediately stepped up to him, and said: ‘Christian soul, why come you here?’ He told her why and how. But Marko heard that somebody was conversing, and immediately asked the Vila who it was that had come in. She told him that a soul from that world had come to see what was in the cavern. Marko immediately said that he must come to him, that he might see how strong people in the world still were, and he must give him his hand. But she gave him a red-hot iron, and Marko took it, and squeezed it in his hands so that water spirted out of it, and said: ‘Ah, ah! I could still live in the world if no one would talk about me for three days.’ He also commissioned him to tell the lords that he should come there. He gave him a letter, too, and sealed it with his own hand, and allowed him to go up. He shook the rope, and got into the chest. Then they pulled him up, and he gave the letter to the lords; but, for fear of Marko’s coming, the lords did not make the letter public for people to know how Marko had gone into the cavern. The footprints of his horse are still recognised.
In the town of Mithila there lived a young Brâhmaṇ who, having had a quarrel with his father-in-law, set out on a pilgrimage to Banaras. Going through a forest he met a blind man, whose wife was leading him by means of a stick, one end of which she held in her hand, and her husband holding the other end was following her. She was young and fair of face, and the pilgrim made signs to her that she should go with him and leave her blind husband behind. The proposal thus signified pleased this wanton woman, so she bade her husband sit under a tree for a few minutes while she went and plucked him a ripe mango. The blind man sat down accordingly, and his wife went away with the Brâhmaṇ. After waiting a long time in expectation of his wife’s return, and no person coming near him, (for it was an unfrequented place), her infidelity became painfully apparent to him, and he bitterly cursed both her and the villain who had enticed her away from him. For six days he remained at the foot of the tree, in woeful condition, without a morsel of rice or a drop of water, and he was well nigh dead, when at length he heard the sound of footsteps near him, and cried faintly for help. A man of the Setti caste and his wife came up to him, and inquired how he happened to be in such a plight. The blind man told them how his wife had deserted him, and gone away with a young Brâhmaṇ whom they had met, leaving him there alone and helpless. His story excited the compassion of the Setti and his wife. They gave him to eat of the small quantity of rice they had with them, and, having supplied him with water to quench his thirst, the Setti bade his wife lead him with his stick. The woman, though somewhat reluctant to walk thus in company with a man who was not her husband, yet, reflecting that charitable actions ought never to be left undone, complied with her lord’s request, and began to lead the blind man. After travelling in this manner for a day, the three reached a town, and took up their abode for the night in the house of a friend of the Setti, where the latter and his wife gave the blind man a share of their rice before tasting a morsel themselves. At daybreak the next morning they advised him to try to provide for himself in some way in that town, and prepared to resume their journey. But the blind man, forgetting all the kindness they had shown him, began to raise an alarm, crying out:—“Is there no king in this city to protect me and give me my rights? Here is a Setti rascal taking away my wife with him! As I am blind, she denies that I am her husband, and follows that rogue! But will not the king give me justice?”The people in the street at once reported these words to the king, who caused inquiry to be made into the matter. The fact of the Setti’s wife having led the blind man, seemed to indicate that the latter, and not the Setti, was the woman’s husband, and foolishly concluded that both the Setti and his wife were the real criminals. Accordingly he sentenced the Setti to the gallows, because he attempted to entice away a married woman, and his wife to be burnt in the kiln, as she wished to forsake her husband, and he a blind man. When these sentences were pronounced the blind man was thunder-struck. The thought that by a deliberate lie he had caused the death of two innocent persons now stung him to the heart. By this lie he expected that the Setti only should be punished, and that his wife would be made over to him as his own wife, but now he found she also was condemned to death.“Vile wretch that I am!” said he; “I do not know what sins I committed in my former life to be thus blind now. My real wife, too, deserted me; and I, heaping sins upon sins, have now by a false report sent to death an innocent man and his wife, who rescued me from a horrible fate and tended to all my wants last night. O, Mahêśvara! what punishment you have in reserve for me I know not.”This soliloquy, being overheard by some by-standers, was communicated to the king, who bitterly reproaching himself for having acted so rashly, at once released the good Setti and his wife, and caused the ungrateful blind man to be burnt in the kiln.“Thus, you see, my lord,” added the fourth Minister, “how nearly that king had plunged himself into a gulf of crime by his rashness. Therefore, my most noble king, I would respectfully and humbly request you to consider well the case of Bodhaditya, and punish him severely if he be found really guilty.”Having thus spoken, the Fourth Minister obtained leave to depart.Next: V.The Wonderful Mango FruitPage 2 of 2The night was now over: darkness, the harbourer of vice, fled away; the day dawned. King Alakesa left his bedchamber, bathed and made his religious ablutions, and, after breakfasting, summoned a council of all his father’s old ministers and advisers. Alakesa took his seat in the midst of the assembly; anger was clearly visible in his countenance; his eyes had lost their natural expression and had turned very red; his breath was as hot as that of a furnace. He thus addressed them:—“Know ye all, the ministers of my father and of myself, that last night, during the first watch, my First Minister, Bodhaditya, while I and my queen were asleep in our chamber, came and touched with his finger the bosom of my queen. Consider well the gravity of this crime, and express your opinions as to what punishment he merits.”Thus spake king Alakesa, but all the ministers, not knowing what answer to return, hung down their heads in silence. Among those present was an aged minister named Manuniti, who called Bodhaditya to his side and privately learned the whole story. He then humbly bowed before the king, and thus spake:—“Most noble king, men are not always all-wise, and, before replying to your Majesty’s question, I beg permission to relate in your presence the story of a king in whose reign a certain benevolent action was repaid with disgrace and ignominy:—Story of the Wonderful Mango Fruit.On the banks of the Kâvêrî there was a city called Tiruvidaimarudur, where ruled a king named Chakraditya. In that city there lived a poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife, who, having no children, brought up in their house a young parrot as tenderly as if it had been their own offspring. One day the parrot was sitting on the roof of the house, basking itself in the morning sun, when a large flock of parrots flew past, talking to each other about certain mango fruits. The Brâhmaṇ’s parrot asked them what were the peculiar properties of those fruits, and was informed that beyond the seven oceans there was a great mango tree, the fruit of which gave perpetual youth to the person who ate of it, however old and infirm he might be. On hearing of this wonder the Brâhmaṇ’s parrot requested permission to accompany them, which being granted, they all continued their flight. When at length they arrived at the mango tree, all ate of its fruit; but the Brâhmaṇ’s parrot reflected:—“It would not be right for me to eat this fruit; I am young, while my adopted parents, the poor Brâhmaṇ and his wife are very old. So I shall give them this fruit, and they will become young and blooming by eating it.”And that same evening the good parrot brought the fruit to the Brâhmaṇ, and explained to him its extraordinary properties. But the Brâhmaṇ thought within himself:—“I am a beggar. What matters it if I become young and live for ever, or else die this very moment? Our king is very good and charitable. If such a great man should eat of this fruit and renew his youth, he would confer the greatest benefit on mankind. Therefore I will give this mango to our good king.”In pursuance of this self-denying resolution, the poor Brâhmaṇ proceeded to the palace and presented the fruit to the king, at the same time relating how he had obtained it and its qualities. The king richly rewarded the Brâhmaṇ for his gift, and sent him away. Then he began to reflect thus:—“Here is a fruit which can bestow perpetual youth on the person who eats it. I should gain this great boon for myself alone, and what happiness could I expect under such circumstances unless shared by my friends and subjects? I shall therefore not eat this mango-fruit, but plant it carefully in my garden, and it will in time become a tree, which will bear much fruit having the same wonderful virtue, and my subjects shall, every one, eat of the fruit, and, with myself, be endowed with everlasting youth.”So, calling his gardener, the king gave him the fruit, and he planted it in the royal presence. In due course of time the fruit grew into a fine tree, and during the spring season it began to bud and blossom and bear fruit. The king, having fixed upon an auspicious day for cutting one of the mango-fruits, gave it to his domestic chaplain, who was ninety years old, in order that his youth should be renewed. But no sooner had the priest tasted it than he fell down dead. At this unexpected calamity the king was both astonished and deeply grieved. When the old priest’s wife heard of her husband’s sudden death she came and prayed the king to allow her to perform sati with him on the same funeral pyre, which increased the king’s sorrow; but he gave her the desired permission, and himself superintended all the ceremonies of the cremation. King Chakraditya then sent for the poor Brâhmaṇ, and demanded of him how he had dared to present a poisonous fruit to his king. The Brâhmaṇ replied:—“My lord, I brought up a young parrot in my house, in order to console me for having no son. That parrot brought me the fruit one day, and told me of its wonderful properties. Believing that the parrot spoke the truth, I presented it to your Majesty, never for a moment suspecting it to be poisonous.”The king listened to the poor Brâhmaṇ’s words, but thought that the poor priest’s death should be avenged. So he consulted his ministers who recommended, as a slight punishment, that the Brâhmaṇ should be deprived of his left eye. This was done accordingly, and, on his return home, when his wife saw his condition, she asked the reason of such mutilation.“My dear,” said she, “the parrot we have fostered so tenderly is the cause of this.”And they resolved to break the neck of the treacherous bird. But the parrot, having overheard their conversation, thus addressed them:—“My kind foster parents, everyone must be rewarded for the good actions or punished for the evil deeds of his previous life. I brought you the fruit with a good intention, but my sins in my former life have given it a different effect. Therefore I pray you to kill me and bury me with a little milk in a pit. And, after my funeral ceremony is over, I request you to undertake a pilgrimage to Banaras to expiate your own sins.”So the old Brâhmaṇ and his wife killed their pet parrot and buried it as directed, after which, overcome with grief, they set out on a pilgrimage to the Holy City.Meanwhile the king commanded his gardener to set guards over the poison-tree, and to allow no one to eat of its fruit; and all the inhabitants soon came to know that the king had a mango tree in his garden, the fruit of which was deadly poison. Now, there was in the city an old washerwoman, who had frequent quarrels with her daughter-in-law, and one day, being weary of life, she left the house, threatening to eat of the poison tree and die.The young parrot who was killed for having brought the poisonous mango-fruit was re-born as a green parrot, and was waiting for an opportunity to demonstrate the harmless nature of the tree; and when he saw the old woman approach with a determination to put an end to her life by eating of its fruit, he plucked one with his beak and dropped it down before her. The old woman rejoiced that fate sanctioned her death, and greedily ate the fruit, when lo! instead of dying she became young and blooming again. Those who had seen her leave the house a woman over sixty years of age were astonished on seeing her return as a handsome girl of sixteen and learning that the wonderful transformation was caused by the supposed poisonous mango-tree.The strange news soon reached the king, who, in order to test the tree still further, ordered another fruit of it to be brought and gave it to a goldsmith of more than ninety years of age, who had embezzled some gold which had been entrusted to him to make into ornaments for the ladies of the palace, and was on that account undergoing imprisonment. When he had eaten the fruit, he, in his turn, became a young man of sixteen. The king was now convinced that the fruit of the mango-tree, so far from being poisonous, had the power of converting decrepit age into lusty and perennial youth. But how had the old priest died by eating of it?It was by a mere accident. One day a huge serpent was sleeping on a branch of the mango-tree, and its head hung over one of the fruit; poison dropped from its mouth and fell on the rind of that fruit; the gardener, who had no knowledge of this, when asked to bring a fruit for the priest, happened to bring the one on which the poison had fallen, and the priest having eaten it, died.And now the king caused proclamation to be made throughout his kingdom that all who pleased might come and partake of the mango-fruit, and everyone ate of it and became young. But king Chakaraditya’s heart burnt within him at the remembrance of his ill-treatment of the poor Brâhmaṇ, who had returned with his wife from Banaras. So he sent for him, explained his mistake, and gave him a fruit to eat, which, having tasted, the aged Brâhmaṇ became young and his eye was also restored to him. But the greatest loss of all, that of the parrot who brought the fruit from beyond the seven oceans, remained irreparable.“Thus, my lord,” continued the old minister, Manuniti, “it behoves us not to act precipitately in this affair of Bodhaditya, which we must carefully sift before expressing our opinion as to the punishment he may deserve at your majesty’s hands.”Next: VI.The Poisoned Food
Overlooking the river Douro, close to Freixo, are some huge rocks, situated on the brink of an almost perpendicular eminence. To this spot do congregate, so it is reported, the souls of unbaptized children, who make the midnight hour hideous with their shrieks when the tempest is hurrying down through the valley and over the snow-capped hills. When the wind is at its highest do these souls of the lost utter their weird shrieks, so nigh akin unto the howling of the wind that only the neighbouring villagers pretend to be able to distinguish between the clamouring voices of the unbaptized and the howling caused by the fitful gusts of the wintry blast as it rushes impetuously among the rocks and down the precipices.On such nights will the farmer’s wife light the tapers around the image of good St. Laurence, patron of the winds, and calling her household around her, the following verses are intoned—“Good St. Laurence, keep us freeFrom the sin of heresy;Lull the angry winds to rest,Still be thou our honoured guest,By our fathers prized.“Drive all goblins from our door,Those whom Heaven doth ignore—Witches, demons, bogeys all,May they sink and may they fallWith the unbaptized.”At times it takes longer to appease the wrath of St. Laurence than at others; but with daylight the courage of the worshippers revives, and the souls of the unbaptized seek rest, although the winds may continue to howl.Many centuries ago the palace of the now enchanted Moors at Freixo was the glory of the place. Although considerably smaller, it was after the style of the Alhambra, at Granada; but it was held in almost greater esteem than the principal residence of the Moorish kings, for in a magnificent stable was lodged the ass on which the prophet Mohamed was supposed to have ascended to Paradise. It seems that the chosen quadruped, unaccustomed to the pastures of the Mohamedan Paradise, had escaped, and descended on earth close to the palace, or alcazar, at Freixo, where he was found one morning by the dwellers when they were on their way to the mosque.He was a fine specimen of an ass, and worthy of the Mohamedan creed. Tradition hints at a miller having laid claim to him; but as he could offer no proofs why the ass should not have been in Paradise, and seeing that the ass was as white as the prophet’s, the miller was ordered to look for his donkey elsewhere, as this was the ass of the prophet.How long this favoured quadruped lived is not recorded, but no doubts have been raised as to his eventual demise; and he, too, was heard braying furiously from his resting-place when the winds blew high.But few vestiges are now left of this once splendid alcazar. Time defied its ornamental turrets and richly chased walls, and levelled them with the ground. Only the surrounding rocks have remained, and with them many traditions. These the inhabitants of the district have preserved intact, or maybe added to their interest by investing them with a semblance to truth which renders them all the more worthy of preservation, as being stepping-stones carrying us back to a long past.But even where such doubtful lore holds the people in awe, a few may be found who, although rejecting that part of the tradition which is evidently but the fruit of a fertile imagination, or of religious fanaticism, recognize in these legends the preservation of a still unwritten history, to whose identification with facts the ruins of many a Moslem building of rare architectural beauty attest.And if, after many a sanguinary fight, the Cross was victorious over the Crescent, the Christian population of the Iberic Peninsula must admit that the faint vestiges of beauty in their architecture of to-day have an Arabic origin; that to their Moorish conquerors they owe much of the daring and endurance which characterized the generation of great navigators, as also to them was due the introduction of many of the useful arts and sciences.The traveller will now look in vain for the alcazar of El Rachid at Freixo. The mighty rocks alone mark the spot, and naught remains of art to please the eye. Traditionary lore may interest him, but he must be ready to listen to it with all the additions which a gross superstition can alone invent or believe.Here, then, is it recorded that Al Rachid held a Christian maiden captive for many years. That she was as good as she was beautiful goes without further remark. Maria das Dores, for so she is named by her chroniclers, was one of those splendid women worthy to be the mothers of that succeeding generation of heroes who overthrew the Moors on the plains of Ourique.Maria was the daughter of a very wealthy farmer who resided close to the mouth of the river Minho. It was her duty to work with the farm labourers in the field, and she would mingle her sweet voice with theirs when singing hymns to the Virgin as they plied their hoes.Often had Al Rachid seen her at work from his hiding-place in a neighbouring forest. He loved the maiden, although he had reason to believe she was a Christian; but he knew that she had given her love to another, and could, therefore, not be his unless he took her by force.One day, at vesper-time, she did not return to the farm with the labourers. Search was made for her everywhere, but she could not be found. Then it was imagined she might be in conversation with her lover; but, on inquiry, he had not seen her.Mounted parties scoured the country all around, but in vain; she had not been seen, and there was no doubt entertained but that she had been lured into the forest, and become the captive of Al Rachid.But, then, nobody had seen the Moorish chief that day. True; but the Moors were enchanters, and it was known that they could make subterranean passages which closed behind them so as to prevent their being pursued.The wise woman of the district was therefore called into requisition, and she, having consulted the astrolabe and made a fire of pine needles, discovered the direction in which the fugitives were going. Mounting their horses, and led by the wise woman, who bestrode a splendid white mule, they galloped off, and after two days’ hard riding they distinctly heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs, but they could not see the horse.Then they knew that Al Rachid was making use of the enchanted passage which they could not hope to find, and they had to content themselves with following the sound until they came within sight of Al Rachid’s palace.They were now in the enemy’s country, and with their little force they could not successfully besiege the palace, so, much against their will, they returned home.There was only one means of rescuing the captive maiden, and this would take time. No Christian man or woman could gain admittance to the enchanted passage, and no Moslem could be found willing to attempt the rescue. Therefore they hit upon a plan of securing the services of a heretic. A child had been born in the village, and him, it was resolved, they should not baptize. When old enough, he should be entrusted with the task of rescue, and being unbaptized he would gain admittance to all the enchanted places.Years rolled by, and the youth had attained the age of thirteen, when he was informed of the mission on which it was intended to send him. Being of a daring disposition, he courted danger, and buckling on his sword, and bearing his shield, he left the farmer’s house; and, accompanied by the wise woman, he directed his steps to the forest. When the two had reached an old oak-tree, the wise woman repeated the following words three times—“Here stands an unbaptizedTo thread the subterranean way;”and then she knocked with her staff three times on the ground, which opened, and the youthful heretic boldly descended, the earth closing above him. Before him was a magnificent display of jewels studding the walls on each side, whose brilliancy at first dazzled him. Getting more accustomed to the strong light, he discovered a coal-black horse, fully caparisoned, standing by his side, as if ready for him to mount; but he was not to be tempted, for he would rather trust to his legs than to a strange horse. Then when he had walked some distance he came to a river, on which there was a boat rowed by six lovely maidens, who asked him to get in, and they would row him across. But he would not be tempted, and he boldly waded the stream and crossed over. Having proceeded a little further, however, he heard the piteous cry of a child, and, hastening forward, he saw a lovely little boy, dressed in the Oriental fashion, who besought him, with tears in his eyes, to carry him a little way, for he was very tired and had still a long way to go. He could not refuse him, and, stooping slightly, raised him in his arms; but no sooner had he done so, than this little boy turned into a giant, who, twining his arms around the heretic’s neck, would have strangled him, but that, being unbaptized, he could not be killed. After many attempts to strangle the intruder the giant relaxed his hold, and as suddenly disappeared.The heretic, after a time, came to a standstill, for he was confronted by total darkness. Nothing daunted, however, he drew his sword and hit out, so that the blade, striking against the sides of the passage, caused the jewels to emit sparks, and these lit up thousands of lamps. In the distance he saw two enormous tigers, each having two heads. They seemed to be ready to tear him to pieces, but, on observing him advance sword in hand, they ran away.At the end of the third day he had walked so quickly that he stood before the secret entrance to the alcazar of Al Rachid. The ponderous gates were wide open, but he could not enter because of an enormous frog that blocked up the way, and emitted flames of fire from its mouth and eyes. Do what he could, there was no getting near the hideous creature.He had recourse to stratagem, and, pretending not to be afraid of the animal, he threw his sword over the frog’s back, exclaiming, “Take that; I fear thee not!”The frog, turning to get hold of the sword, offered an opportunity to the heretic of jumping on its back, which he did, and, digging his spurs into its sides, he obliged it to advance, when, as it passed by his sword, he dexterously picked it up, and was not at all particular how he used it about the creature’s head.The more he struck at the frog, the more fierce were the flames of fire it emitted; and Al Rachid, hearing the noise, hurried to the entrance to see what was the matter, when he found himself enveloped in flames which the heretic forced the frog to throw out until the cruel Moor was completely burned.Then at one stroke he cut off the animal’s head, and at the same moment the castle vanished, and where it had previously stood the heretic found Maria, the farmer’s daughter, who was overjoyed at her deliverance.The two wended their way back to their native village, where great rejoicings awaited them; and seeing that the services of the heretic would in all probability no longer be required, he was baptized with as little delay as possible, and for the rescue he had effected the rich farmer amply rewarded him, while the Church accorded him plenary absolution for his past heresy.
There was once on a time a Queen to whom God had given no children. Every morning she went into the garden and prayed to God in heaven to bestow on her a son or a daughter. Then an angel from heaven came to her and said, “Be at rest, thou shalt have a son with the power of wishing, so that whatsoever in the world he wishes for, that shall he have.” Then she went to the King, and told him the joyful tidings, and when the time was come she gave birth to a son, and the King was filled with gladness. Every morning she went with the child to the garden where the wild beasts were kept, and washed herself there in a clear stream. It happened once when the child was a little older, that it was lying in her arms and she fell asleep. Then came the old cook, who knew that the child had the power of wishing, and stole it away, and he took a hen, and cut it in pieces, and dropped some of its blood on the Queen’s apron and on her dress. Then he carried the child away to a secret place, where a nurse was obliged to suckle it, and he ran to the King and accused the Queen of having allowed her child to be taken from her by the wild beasts. When the King saw the blood on her apron, he believed this, fell into such a passion that he ordered a high tower to be built, in which neither sun nor moon could be seen, and had his wife put into it, and walled up. Here she was to stay for seven years without meat or drink, and die of hunger. But God sent two angels from heaven in the shape of white doves, which flew to her twice a day, and carried her food until the seven years were over.The cook, however, thought to himself, “If the child has the power of wishing, and I am here, he might very easily get me into trouble.” So he left the palace and went to the boy, who was already big enough to speak, and said to him, “Wish for a beautiful palace for thyself with a garden, and all else that pertains to it.” Scarcely were the words out of the boy’s mouth, when everything was there that he had wished for. After a while the cook said to him, “It is not well for thee to be so alone, wish for a pretty girl as a companion.” Then the King’s son wished for one, and she immediately stood before him, and was more beautiful than any painter could have painted her. The two played together, and loved each other with all their hearts, and the old cook went out hunting like a nobleman. The thought, however, occurred to him that the King’s son might some day wish to be with his father, and thus bring him into great peril. So he went out and took the maiden aside, and said, “To-night when the boy is asleep, go to his bed and plunge this knife into his heart, and bring me his heart and tongue, and if thou dost not do it, thou shalt lose thy life.” Thereupon he went away, and when he returned next day she had not done it, and said, “Why should I shed the blood of an innocent boy who has never harmed any one?” The cook once more said, “If thou dost not do it, it shall cost thee thy own life.” When he had gone away, she had a little hind brought to her, and ordered her to be killed, and took her heart and tongue, and laid them on a plate, and when she saw the old man coming, she said to the boy, “Lie down in thy bed, and draw the clothes over thee.” Then the wicked wretch came in and said, “Where are the boy’s heart and tongue?” The girl reached the plate to him, but the King’s son threw off the quilt, and said, “Thou old sinner, why didst thou want to kill me? Now will I pronounce thy sentence. Thou shalt become a black poodle and have a gold collar round thy neck, and shalt eat burning coals, till the flames burst forth from thy throat.” And when he had spoken these words, the old man was changed into a poodle dog, and had a gold collar round his neck, and the cooks were ordered to bring up some live coals, and these he ate, until the flames broke forth from his throat. The King’s son remained there a short while longer, and he thought of his mother, and wondered if she were still alive. At length he said to the maiden, “I will go home to my own country; if thou wilt go with me, I will provide for thee.” “Ah,” she replied, “the way is so long, and what shall I do in a strange land where I am unknown?” As she did not seem quite willing, and as they could not be parted from each other, he wished that she might be changed into a beautiful pink, and took her with him. Then he went away to his own country, and the poodle had to run after him. He went to the tower in which his mother was confined, and as it was so high, he wished for a ladder which would reach up to the very top. Then he mounted up and looked inside, and cried, “Beloved mother, Lady Queen, are you still alive, or are you dead?” She answered, “I have just eaten, and am still satisfied,” for she thought the angels were there. Said he, “I am your dear son, whom the wild beasts were said to have torn from your arms; but I am alive still, and will speedily deliver you.” Then he descended again, and went to his father, and caused himself to be announced as a strange huntsman, and asked if he could give him a place. The King said yes, if he was skilful and could get game for him, he should come to him, but that deer had never taken up their quarters in any part of the district or country. Then the huntsman promised to procure as much game for him as he could possibly use at the royal table. So he summoned all the huntsmen together, and bade them go out into the forest with him. And he went with them and made them form a great circle, open at one end where he stationed himself, and began to wish. Two hundred deer and more came running inside the circle at once, and the huntsmen shot them. Then they were all placed on sixty country carts, and driven home to the King, and for once he was able to deck his table with game, after having had none at all for years.Now the King felt great joy at this, and commanded that his entire household should eat with him next day, and made a great feast. When they were all assembled together, he said to the huntsman, “As thou art so clever, thou shalt sit by me.” He replied, “Lord King, your majesty must excuse me, I am a poor huntsman.” But the King insisted on it, and said, “Thou shalt sit by me,” until he did it. Whilst he was sitting there, he thought of his dearest mother, and wished that one of the King’s principal servants would begin to speak of her, and would ask how it was faring with the Queen in the tower, and if she were alive still, or had perished. Hardly had he formed the wish than the marshal began, and said, “Your majesty, we live joyously here, but how is the Queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or has she died?” But the King replied, “She let my dear son be torn to pieces by wild beasts; I will not have her named.” Then the huntsman arose and said, “Gracious lord father, she is alive still, and I am her son, and I was not carried away by wild beasts, but by that wretch the old cook, who tore me from her arms when she was asleep, and sprinkled her apron with the blood of a chicken.” Thereupon he took the dog with the golden collar, and said, “That is the wretch!” and caused live coals to be brought, and these the dog was compelled to devour before the sight of all, until flames burst forth from its throat. On this the hunts- man asked the King if he would like to see the dog in his true shape, and wished him back into the form of the cook, in the which he stood immediately, with his white apron, and his knife by his side. When the King saw him he fell into a passion, and ordered him to be cast into the deepest dungeon. Then the huntsman spake further and said, “Father, will you see the maiden who brought me up so tenderly and who was afterwards to murder me, but did not do it, though her own life depended on it?” The King replied, “Yes, I would like to see her.” The son said, “Most gracious father, I will show her to you in the form of a beautiful flower,” and he thrust his hand into his pocket and brought forth the pink, and placed it on the royal table, and it was so beautiful that the King had never seen one to equal it. Then the son said, “Now will I show her to you in her own form,” and wished that she might become a maiden, and she stood there looking so beautiful that no painter could have made her look more so.And the King sent two waiting-maids and two attendants into the tower, to fetch the Queen and bring her to the royal table. But when she was led in she ate nothing, and said, “The gracious and merciful God who has supported me in the tower, will speedily deliver me.” She lived three days more, and then died happily, and when she was buried, the two white doves which had brought her food to the tower, and were angels of heaven, followed her body and seated themselves on her grave. The aged King ordered the cook to be torn in four pieces, but grief consumed the King’s own heart, and he soon died. His son married the beautiful maiden whom he had brought with him as a flower in his pocket, and whether they are still alive or not, is known to God.
Once upon a time Yellow Corn and Blue Corn had a little sister whom they treated very unkindly. They made her live out in the turkey house, where she had to eat with the turkeys, and they did not give her any clothes to wear except a few of their old ragged ones.Every day this little girl had to go out with the turkeys and watch them to keep them from wandering away and getting lost. One day the turkeys led her to a spring. They jumped into the spring to bathe and each turkey dropped something nice for their kind little keeper. The first turkey dropped some pretty feathers as he jumped into the water; the second turkey dropped a pair of moccasins from his feet; the third turkey dropped a belt; and the fourth turkey, a new black dress. The little girl was very happy. She dressed up in the new clothes and set out for home with the turkeys.Some children in the village saw her coming. “Oh look!” they cried, “There comes Yellow Corn’s and Blue Corn’s sister all dressed up in some new clothes!”Yellow Corn and Blue Corn heard them and ran out to see if what they heard was true. When the saw the new clothes they ran to their little sister:“How lovely your clothes are!” said Yellow Corn, “Come, go into the house with us and let us see them.”“Yes,” said Blue Corn, “Come in and we will give you some corn cakes and deer’s meat.”“No, thank you,” replied the little sister, “I had rather stay with my turkeys and eat with them just as I have always done.” For she knew that Yellow Corn and Blue Corn would be unkind to her again as soon as her clothes grew old, and perhaps they would take her clothes away from her if she went in; but the turkeys had always treated her kindly.“Well, go on then with your old turkeys,” said the Corn girls, and they picked up handfuls of pebbles and threw them at the little girl and the turkeys.Early the following morning the little girl said to the turkeys, “My sisters are so unkind to me that I am going into the hole (The hole that swallows people down and they never come back again); but do not follow me. They will be mean to you, too, when I am gone, so do not let them catch you. When they chase you, fly away to the north, the south, the east and the west.” And the little girl and the turkeys went out towards the hole. They walked along singing. The little girl sang: “Turkeys, turkeys, leaf on water. Turkeys, turkeys, leaf on water. See how it floats so light. See how it floats so light,” and the turkeys answered, “Piu, piu, chow, chow.”When they reached the river they met an old man with a load of wood on his back: “Where are you going with your turkeys, little girl?” he asked.“I am going into the hole,” she replied, “My sisters are so unkind to me that I am not happy, so I am going into the hole.”The old man put down his wood and hurried to the village to find Yellow Corn and Blue Corn.“Go catch your sister!” he told them, “and tell her you will not be unkind to her any more; for she is going into the hole to tell the good spirits in the earth about you.”Yellow Corn and Blue Corn ran as fast as they could to catch their sister. The turkeys saw them coming and flew away to the north, south, east and west. When the overtook the little girl she was almost down in the hole. They caught her by the hair and tried to pull her out. “Come back, little sister and we will be good to you.” But the little sister knew better than that.“How can I come out if you hold my hair? Please turn it loose,” she said.The girls thought she was coming back so they turned loose her hair; but the little sister disappeared out of their sight forever and lived happily with the good spirits in the hole.
A poor widow woman once lived near the sea in Eastern Canada. Her husband had been drowned catching fish one stormy day far off the coast, and her little boy was now her only means of support. He had no brothers or sisters, and he and his mother, because they lived alone, were always good comrades. Although he was very young and small, he was very strong, and he could catch fish and game like a man. Every day he brought home food to his mother, and they were never went without a meal.Now it happened that the Great Eagle who made the Winds in these parts became very angry because he was not given enough to eat. He went screaming through the land in search of food, but no food could he find. And he said, “If the people will not give me food, I will take care that they get no food for themselves, and when I grow very hungry I shall eat up all the little children in the land. For my young ones must have nourishment too.” So he tossed the waters about with the wind of his great wings, and he bent the trees and flattened the corn, and for days he made such activity on the earth that the people stayed indoors, and they were afraid to come out in search of food.At last the boy and his mother became very hungry. And the boy said, “I must go and find food, since there is not a crumb left in the house. We cannot wait longer.” And he said to his mother, “I know where a fat young beaver lives in his house of reeds on the bank of the stream near the sea. I shall go and kill him, and his flesh will feed us for many days.” His mother did not want him to make this hazardous journey, for the Great Eagle was still in the land.But he said to her, “You must think of me always when I am gone, and I will think of you, and while we keep each other in our memories I shall come to no harm.” So, taking his long hunting knife, he set out for the beaver’s home in his house of reeds on the bank of the stream near the sea. He reached the place without mishap and there he found Beaver fast asleep. He soon killed him and slung him over his shoulder and started back to his mother’s house. “A good fat load I have here,” he said to himself, “and we shall now have many a good dinner of roast beaver-meat.”But as he went along with his load on his back, the Great Eagle spied him from a distance and swooped down upon him without warning. Before he could strike with his knife, the Eagle caught him by the shoulders and soared away, holding him in a mighty grip with the beaver still on his back. The boy tried to plunge his knife into the Eagle’s breast, but the feathers were too thick and tough, and he was not strong enough to drive the knife through them. He could do nothing but make the best of his sorry plight. “Surely I can think of a way of escape,” he said to himself, “and my mother’s thoughts will be with me to help me.”Soon the Eagle arrived at his home. It was built on a high cliff overlooking the sea, hundreds of feet above the beach, where even the sound of the surf rolling in from afar could not reach it. There were many young birds in the nest, all clamuring for food. Great Eagle threw the boy to the side of the nest and told him to stay there. And he said, “I shall first eat the beaver, and after he is all eaten up, we shall have a good fat meal from you.” Then he picked the beaver to pieces and fed part of it to his young ones.For some days the boy lay in terror in the nest, trying to think of a way of escape. Birds flew high over his head, and far out on the ocean, he could see great ships going by. But no help came to him, and he thought that death would soon be upon him. And his mother sat at home waiting for him to return, but day after day passed and still he did not come. She thought he must surely be in great danger, or that perhaps he was already dead. One day, as she was weeping, thinking of her lost boy, an old woman came along. “Why do you cry?” she asked.And the weeping woman said, “My boy has been away for many days. I know that harm has come upon him. The men of my tribe have gone in search of him, and they will kill whatever holds him a prisoner, but I fear he will never come back alive.” And the old woman said, “Little good the men of your tribe can do you! You must aid him with your thoughts, for material things are vain. I will help you, for I have been given great power by the Little People of the Hills.” So the woman used her thoughts and her wishes to bring back her boy.That night the boy noticed that the beaver had all been eaten up and that not a morsel remained. He knew that unless he could save himself at once he would surely die on the morrow. The Great Eagle, he knew, would swoop down upon him and kill him with a blow of his powerful beak and claws. But when the boy slept, he saw his mother in his slumber. And she said to him, “Tomorrow when Great Eagle goes from the nest, brace your knife, point upwards, against the rock. When he swoops down to kill you his breast will strike the knife, and he will be pierced to death. You are not strong enough to cut through his feathers with your knife, but he is powerful enough to destroy himself.”The next morning when Great Eagle went out, the boy did as the vision of the night had told him. He braced his sharp hunting-knife, point upwards, against the rock and sat still and waited. Then he heard the young eagles making a great noise and crying loudly for their breakfast. He knew that his hour had come. Soon the Great Eagle, hearing the screams of his young ones, came flying back to the nest to kill the boy. He circled around above him with loud cries and then with great force swooped down upon him, hoping to kill him with his beak and claws. But instead, he struck the blade braced upwards against the rock. The knife pierced far into his breast, and with a loud scream he rolled over dead into the nest. The boy then killed the young eagles, and he knew that now for a time he was safe.But he did not know how to get down from the Eagle’s nest, for it jutted out like a shelf far over the beach, and behind it was a wall of rock around which he could not climb. He had no means of making a ladder, and his cries would not be heard upon the beach because of the constant roaring of the surf. He thought he would surely starve to death, and that night he cried himself to sleep. But in the night he again saw his mother in his slumbers. And she said, “You are a foolish boy. Why do you not use the thoughts I send you? Tomorrow skin the eagle and crawl inside the skin. If the wide wings can hold the Eagle in the air they can likewise hold you. Drop off from the cliff and you will land safely on the beach.”The next day the boy did as the vision of the night had told him. He carefully skinned the Great Eagle. Then he crawled inside the skin and thrust his arms through the skin just above the wings, so that his extended arms would hold the wings straight out beneath them. Then he prepared to drop down. But when he looked over the cliff, he was very frightened, for the sight made him dizzy. On the beach, men looked like flies, they were so far away. But he remembered the promise made to him in his slumbers. So he pushed himself from the cliff and dropped down. The wings of Great Eagle let him fall gently through the air and he landed safely and unhurt upon the beach. He crawled out of the skin and set out for his home. It was a long journey, for Great Eagle had carried him far away, but towards evening he reached his home safely, and his mother received him with great gladness.The boy began to boast of his adventure, and he told how he had killed Great Eagle and how he had dropped down unscathed from the cliff. He spoke of himself with great pride and of his strength and his shrewdness. But the old woman from the Land of the Little People, the fairies of the hills, who was still present with his mother, said, “Oh, vain boy, do not think so highly of yourself. Your strength is nothing; your shrewdness is nothing. It was not these things that saved you, but it was the strength of our thoughts. These alone endure and succeed when all else fails. I have taught you the uselessness of all material things, which in the end are but as ashes or as dust. Our thoughts alone can help us in the end, for they alone are eternal.” And the boy listened and wondered at what the old woman from the Land of Little People had said, but he boasted of his strength no more.
Long, long ago in Kyoto, the people of the city were terrified by accounts of a dreadful ogre, who, it was said, haunted the Gate of Rashomon at twilight and seized whoever passed by. The missing victims were never seen again, so it was whispered that the ogre was a horrible cannibal, who not only killed the unhappy victims but ate them also. Now everybody in the town and neighborhood was in great fear, and no one durst venture out after sunset near the Gate of Rashomon.Now at this time there lived in Kyoto a general named Raiko, who had made himself famous for his brave deeds. Some time before this he made the country ring with his name, for he had attacked Oeyama, where a band of ogres lived with their chief, who instead of wine drank the blood of human beings. He had routed them all and cut off the head of the chief monster.This brave warrior was always followed by a band of faithful knights. In this band there were five knights of great valor. One evening as the five knights sat at a feast quaffing SAKE in their rice bowls and eating all kinds of fish, raw, and stewed, and broiled, and toasting each other’s healths and exploits, the first knight, Hojo, said to the others:“Have you all heard the rumor that every evening after sunset there comes an ogre to the Gate of Rashomon, and that he seizes all who pass by?”The second knight, Watanabe, answered him, saying:“Do not talk such nonsense! All the ogres were killed by our chief Raiko at Oeyama! It cannot be true, because even if any ogres did escape from that great killing they would not dare to show themselves in this city, for they know that our brave master would at once attack them if he knew that any of them were still alive!”“Then do you disbelieve what I say, and think that I am telling you a falsehood?”“No, I do not think that you are telling a lie,” said Watanabe; “but you have heard some old woman’s story which is not worth believing.”“Then the best plan is to prove what I say, by going there yourself and finding out yourself whether it is true or not,” said Hojo.Watanabe, the second knight, could not bear the thought that his companion should believe he was afraid, so he answered quickly:“Of course, I will go at once and find out for myself!”So Watanabe at once got ready to go—he buckled on his long sword and put on a coat of armor, and tied on his large helmet. When he was ready to start he said to the others:“Give me something so that I can prove I have been there!”Then one of the men got a roll of writing paper and his box of Indian ink and brushes, and the four comrades wrote their names on a piece of paper.“I will take this,” said Watanabe, “and put it on the Gate of Rashomon, so to-morrow morning will you all go and look at it? I may be able to catch an ogre or two by then!” and he mounted his horse and rode off gallantly.It was a very dark night, and there was neither moon nor star to light Watanabe on his way. To make the darkness worse a storm came on, the rain fell heavily and the wind howled like wolves in the mountains. Any ordinary man would have trembled at the thought of going out of doors, but Watanabe was a brave warrior and dauntless, and his honor and word were at stake, so he sped on into the night, while his companions listened to the sound of his horse’s hoofs dying away in the distance, then shut the sliding shutters close and gathered round the charcoal fire and wondered what would happen—and whether their comrade would encounter one of those horrible Oni.At last Watanabe reached the Gate of Rashomon, but peer as he might through the darkness he could see no sign of an ogre.“It is just as I thought,” said Watanabe to himself; “there are certainly no ogres here; it is only an old woman’s story. I will stick this paper on the gate so that the others can see I have been here when they come to-morrow, and then I will take my way home and laugh at them all.”He fastened the piece of paper, signed by all his four companions, on the gate, and then turned his horse’s head towards home.As he did so he became aware that some one was behind him, and at the same time a voice called out to him to wait. Then his helmet was seized from the back. “Who are you?” said Watanabe fearlessly. He then put out his hand and groped around to find out who or what it was that held him by the helmet. As he did so he touched something that felt like an arm—it was covered with hair and as big round as the trunk of a tree!Watanabe knew at once that this was the arm of an ogre, so he drew his sword and cut at it fiercely.There was a loud yell of pain, and then the ogre dashed in front of the warrior.Watanabe’s eyes grew large with wonder, for he saw that the ogre was taller than the great gate, his eyes were flashing like mirrors in the sunlight, and his huge mouth was wide open, and as the monster breathed, flames of fire shot out of his mouth.The ogre thought to terrify his foe, but Watanabe never flinched. He attacked the ogre with all his strength, and thus they fought face to face for a long time. At last the ogre, finding that he could neither frighten nor beat Watanabe and that he might himself be beaten, took to flight. But Watanabe, determined not to let the monster escape, put spurs to his horse and gave chase.But though the knight rode very fast the ogre ran faster, and to his disappointment he found himself unable to overtake the monster, who was gradually lost to sight.Watanabe returned to the gate where the fierce fight had taken place, and got down from his horse. As he did so he stumbled upon something lying on the ground.Stooping to pick it up he found that it was one of the ogre’s huge arms which he must have slashed off in the fight. His joy was great at having secured such a prize, for this was the best of all proofs of his adventure with the ogre. So he took it up carefully and carried it home as a trophy of his victory.When he got back, he showed the arm to his comrades, who one and all called him the hero of their band and gave him a great feast. His wonderful deed was soon noised abroad in Kyoto, and people from far and near came to see the ogre’s arm.Watanabe now began to grow uneasy as to how he should keep the arm in safety, for he knew that the ogre to whom it belonged was still alive. He felt sure that one day or other, as soon as the ogre got over his scare, he would come to try to get his arm back again. Watanabe therefore had a box made of the strongest wood and banded with iron. In this he placed the arm, and then he sealed down the heavy lid, refusing to open it for anyone. He kept the box in his own room and took charge of it himself, never allowing it out of his sight.Now one night he heard some one knocking at the porch, asking for admittance.When the servant went to the door to see who it was, there was only an old woman, very respectable in appearance. On being asked who she was and what was her business, the old woman replied with a smile that she had been nurse to the master of the house when he was a little baby. If the lord of the house were at home she begged to be allowed to see him.The servant left the old woman at the door and went to tell his master that his old nurse had come to see him. Watanabe thought it strange that she should come at that time of night, but at the thought of his old nurse, who had been like a foster-mother to him and whom he had not seen for a long time, a very tender feeling sprang up for her in his heart. He ordered the servant to show her in.The old woman was ushered into the room, and after the customary bows and greetings were over, she said:“Master, the report of your brave fight with the ogre at the Gate of Rashomon is so widely known that even your poor old nurse has heard of it. Is it really true, what every one says, that you cut off one of the ogre’s arms? If you did, your deed is highly to be praised!”“I was very disappointed,” said Watanabe, “that I was not able take the monster captive, which was what I wished to do, instead of only cutting off an arm!”“I am very proud to think,” answered the old woman, “that my master was so brave as to dare to cut off an ogre’s arm. There is nothing that can be compared to your courage. Before I die it is the great wish of my life to see this arm,” she added pleadingly.“No,” said Watanabe, “I am sorry, but I cannot grant your request.”“But why?” asked the old woman.“Because,” replied Watanabe, “ogres are very revengeful creatures, and if I open the box there is no telling but that the ogre may suddenly appear and carry off his arm. I have had a box made on purpose with a very strong lid, and in this box I keep the ogre’s arm secure; and I never show it to any one, whatever happens.”“Your precaution is very reasonable,” said the old woman. “But I am your old nurse, so surely you will not refuse to show ME the arm. I have only just heard of your brave act, and not being able to wait till the morning I came at once to ask you to show it to me.”Watanabe was very troubled at the old woman’s pleading, but he still persisted in refusing. Then the old woman said:“Do you suspect me of being a spy sent by the ogre?”“No, of course I do not suspect you of being the ogre’s spy, for you are my old nurse,” answered Watanabe.“Then you cannot surely refuse to show me the arm any longer.” entreated the old woman; “for it is the great wish of my heart to see for once in my life the arm of an ogre!”Watanabe could not hold out in his refusal any longer, so he gave in at last, saying:“Then I will show you the ogre’s arm, since you so earnestly wish to see it. Come, follow me!” and he led the way to his own room, the old woman following.When they were both in the room Watanabe shut the door carefully, and then going towards a big box which stood in a corner of the room, he took off the heavy lid. He then called to the old woman to come near and look in, for he never took the arm out of the box.“What is it like? Let me have a good look at it,” said the old nurse, with a joyful face.She came nearer and nearer, as if she were afraid, till she stood right against the box. Suddenly she plunged her hand into the box and seized the arm, crying with a fearful voice which made the room shake:“Oh, joy! I have got my arm back again!”And from an old woman she was suddenly transformed into the towering figure of the frightful ogre!Watanabe sprang back and was unable to move for a moment, so great was his astonishment; but recognizing the ogre who had attacked him at the Gate of Rashomon, he determined with his usual courage to put an end to him this time. He seized his sword, drew it out of its sheath in a flash, and tried to cut the ogre down.So quick was Watanabe that the creature had a narrow escape. But the ogre sprang up to the ceiling, and bursting through the roof, disappeared in the mist and clouds.In this way the ogre escaped with his arm. The knight gnashed his teeth with disappointment, but that was all he could do. He waited in patience for another opportunity to dispatch the ogre. But the latter was afraid of Watanabe’s great strength and daring, and never troubled Kyoto again. So once more the people of the city were able to go out without fear even at night time, and the brave deeds of Watanabe have never been forgotten!
Shortly after the birth of Kilhuch, the son of King Kilyth, his mother died. Before her death she charged the king that he should not take a wife again until he saw a briar with two blossoms upon her grave, and the king sent every morning to see if anything were growing thereon. After many years the briar appeared, and he took to wife the widow of King Doged.She foretold to her stepson, Kilhuch, that it was his destiny to marry a maiden named Olwen, or none other, and he, at his father’s bidding, went to the court of his cousin, King Arthur, to ask as a boon the hand of the maiden. He rode upon a grey steed with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold, and a saddle also of gold. In his hand were two spears of silver, well-tempered, headed with steel, of an edge to wound the wind and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed grass upon the earth when the dew of June is at its heaviest. A gold-hilted sword was on his thigh, and the blade was of gold, having inlaid upon it a cross of the hue of the lightning of heaven. Two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, with strong collars of rubies, sported round him, and his courser cast up four sods with its four hoofs like four swallows about his head. Upon the steed was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner. Precious gold was upon the stirrups and shoes, and the blade of grass bent not beneath them, so light was the courser’s tread as he went towards the gate of King Arthur’s palace.Arthur received him with great ceremony, and asked him to remain at the palace; but the youth replied that he came not to consume meat and drink, but to ask a boon of the king.Then said Arthur, “Since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends, save only my ships and my mantle, my sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger, and Guinevere my wife.”So Kilhuch craved of him the hand of Olwen, the daughter of YspathadenPenkawr, and also asked the favour and aid of all Arthur’s court.Then said Arthur, “O chieftain, I have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but I will gladly send messengers in search of her.”And the youth said, “I will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so.”Then Arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden; and at the end of the year Arthur’s messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or information concerning Olwen more than on the first day.Then said Kilhuch, “Every one has received his boon, and I yet lack mine. I will depart and bear away thy honour with me.”Then said Kay, “Rash chieftain! dost thou reproach Arthur? Go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her.”Thereupon Kay rose up.Kay had this peculiarity, that his breath lasted nine nights and nine days under water, and he could exist nine nights and nine days without sleep. A wound from Kay’s sword no physician could heal. Very subtle was Kay. When it pleased him he could render himself as tall as the highest tree in the forest. And he had another peculiarity—so great was the heat of his nature, that, when it rained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry for a handbreadth above and a handbreadth below his hand; and when his companions were coldest, it was to them as fuel with which to light their fire.And Arthur called Bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which Kay was bound. None was equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except Arthur and Drych Ail Kibthar. And although he was one-handed, three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. Another property he had; his lance would produce a wound equal to those of nine opposing lances.And Arthur called to Kynthelig the guide. “Go thou upon this expedition with the Chieftain.” For as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own.He called Gwrhyr Gwalstawt Ieithoedd, because he knew all tongues.He called Gwalchmai, the son of Gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. He was the best of footmen and the best of knights. He was nephew to Arthur, the son of his sister, and his cousin.And Arthur called Menw, the son of Teirgwaeth, in order that if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them whilst they could see every one.They journeyed on till they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest in the world. But so far away was it that at night it seemed no nearer, and they scarcely reached it on the third day. When they came before the castle they beheld a vast flock of sheep, boundless and without end. They told their errand to the herdsman, who endeavoured to dissuade them, since none who had come thither on that quest had returned alive. They gave to him a gold ring, which he conveyed to his wife, telling her who the visitors were.On the approach of the latter, she ran out with joy to greet them, and sought to throw her arms about their necks. But Kay, snatching a billet out of the pile, placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil.“O woman,” said Kay, “if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. Evil love were this.”They entered the house, and after meat she told them that the maiden Olwen came there every Saturday to wash. They pledged their faith that they would not harm her, and a message was sent to her. So Olwen came, clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and with a collar of ruddy gold, in which were emeralds and rubies, about her neck. More golden was her hair than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. Brighter were her glances than those of a falcon; her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek redder than the reddest roses. Whoso beheld was filled with her love. Four white trefoils sprang up wherever she trod, and therefore was she called Olwen.Then Kilhuch, sitting beside her on a bench, told her his love, and she said that he would win her as his bride if he granted whatever her father asked.Accordingly they went up to the castle and laid their request before him.“Raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen over my eyes,” said Yspathaden Penkawr, “that I may see the fashion of my son-in-law.”They did so, and he promised, them an answer on the morrow. But as they were going forth, Yspathaden seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him and threw it back after them.And Bedwyr caught it and flung it back, wounding Yspathaden in the knee.Then said he, “A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. I shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness. This poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. Cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil whereon it was wrought.”The knights rested in the house of Custennin the herdsman, but the next day at dawn they returned to the castle and renewed their request.Yspathaden said it was necessary that he should consult Olwen’s four great-grandmothers and her four great-grand-sires.The knights again withdrew, and as they were going he took the second dart and cast it after them.But Menw caught it and flung it back, piercing Yspathaden’s breast with it, so that it came out at the small of his back.“A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly,” says he, “the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated! Henceforth whenever I go up a hill, I shall have a scant in my breath and a pain in my chest.”On the third day the knights returned once more to the palace, andYspathaden took the third dart and cast it at them.But Kilhuch caught it and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball, so that the dart came out at the back of his head.“A cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. As long as I remain alive my eyesight will be the worse. Whenever I go against the wind my eyes will water, and peradventure my head will burn, and I shall have a giddiness every new moon. Cursed be the fire in which it was forged. Like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron.”And they went to meat.Said Yspathaden Penkawr, “Is it thou that seekest my daughter?”“It is I,” answered Kilhuch.“I must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do towards me otherwise than is just, and when I have gotten that which I shall name, my daughter thou shalt have.”“I promise thee that willingly,” said Kilhuch, “name what thou wilt.”“I will do so,” said he.“Throughout the world there is not a comb or scissors with which I can arrange my hair, on, account of its rankness, except the comb and scissors that are between the two ears of Turch Truith, the son of Prince Tared. He will not give them of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him.”“It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy.”“Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. It will not be possible to hunt Turch Truith without Drudwyn the whelp of Greid, the son of Eri, and know that throughout the world there is not a huntsman who can hunt with this dog, except Mabon the son of Modron. He was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead.”“It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy.”“Though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. Thou wilt not get Mabon, for it is not known where he is, unless thou find Eidoel, his kinsman in blood, the son of Aer. For it would be useless to seek for him. He is his cousin.”“It will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy. Horses shall I have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman Arthur will obtain for me all these things. And I shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life.”“Go forward. And thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for wife.”Now, when they told Arthur how they had sped, Arthur said, “Which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek first?”“It will be best,” said they, “to seek Mabon the son of Modron; and he will not be found unless we first find Eidoel, the son of Aer, his kinsman.”Then Arthur rose up, and the warriors of the Islands of Britain with him, to seek for Eidoel; and they proceeded until they came before the castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was imprisoned.Glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and said, “Arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and I have neither joy nor pleasure in it; neither wheat nor oats?”Said Arthur, “Not to injure thee came I hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee.”“I will give thee my prisoner, though I had not thought to give him up to any one; and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid.”His followers then said unto Arthur, “Lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these.”Then said Arthur, “It were well for thee, Gwrhyr Gwalstawt Ieithoedd, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. Go, Eidoel, likewise with my men in search of thy cousin. And as for you, Kay and Bedwyr, I have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. Achieve ye this adventure for me.”These went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri, and Gwrhyr adjured her for the sake of Heaven, saying, “Tell me if thou knowest aught of Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall.”And the Ousel answered, “When I first came here there was a smith’s anvil in this place, and I was then a young bird, and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening, and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet the vengeance of Heaven be upon me if during all that time I have ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and I will be your guide to them.”So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynvre.“Stag of Redynvre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy from Arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say, knowest thou aught of Mabon?”The stag said, “When first I came hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches. And that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this I have been here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, I will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before I was.”So they proceeded to the place where was the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd, to inquire of him concerning Mabon.And the owl said, “If I knew I would tell you. When first I came hither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. And a race of men came and rooted it up. And there grew there a second wood, and this wood is the third. My wings, are they not withered stumps? Yet all this time, even until to-day, I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, I will be the guide of Arthur’s embassy until you come to the place where is the oldest animal in this world, and the one who has travelled most, the eagle of Gwern Abwy.”When they came to the eagle, Gwrhyr asked it the same question; but it replied, “I have been here for a great space of time, and when I first came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which I pecked at the stars every evening, and now it is not so much as a span high. From that day to this I have been here, and I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when I went in search of food as far as Llyn Llyw. And when I came there, I struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he drew me into the deep, and I was scarcely able to escape from him. After that I went with my whole kindred to attack him and to try to destroy him, but he sent messengers and made peace with me, and came and besought me to take fifty fish-spears out of his back. Unless he know something of him whom you seek, I cannot tell you who may. However, I will guide you to the place where he is.”So they went thither, and the eagle said, “Salmon of Llyn Llyw, I have come to thee with an embassy from Arthur to ask thee if thou knowest aught concerning Mabon, the son of Modron, who was taken away at three nights old from between his mother and the wall.”And the salmon answered, “As much as I know I will tell thee. With every tide I go along the river upwards, until I come near to the walls of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrong as I never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders.”So Kay and Gwrhyr went upon his shoulders, and they proceeded till they came to the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. Said Gwrhyr, “Who is it that laments in this house of stone?”And the voice replied, “Alas, it is Mabon, the son of Modron, who is here imprisoned!”Then they returned and told Arthur, who, summoning his warriors, attacked the castle.And whilst the fight was going on, Kay and Bedwyr, mounting on the shoulders of the fish, broke into the dungeon, and brought away with them Mabon, the son of Modron.Then Arthur summoned unto him all the warriors that were in the three islands of Britain and in the three islands adjacent; and he went as far as Esgeir Ocrvel in Ireland where the Boar Truith was with his seven young pigs. And the dogs were let loose upon him from all sides. But he wasted the fifth part of Ireland, and then set forth through the sea to Wales. Arthur and his hosts, and his horses, and his dogs followed hard after him. But ever and awhile the boar made a stand, and many a champion of Arthur’s did he slay. Throughout all Wales did Arthur follow him, and one by one the young pigs were killed.At length, when he would fain have crossed the Severn and escaped into Cornwall, Mabon the son of Modron came up with him, and Arthur fell upon him together with the champions of Britain. On the one side Mabon the son of Modron spurred his steed and snatched his razor from him, whilst Kay came up with him on the other side and took from him the scissors. But before they could obtain the comb he had regained the ground with his feet, and from the moment that he reached the shore, neither dog nor man nor horse could overtake him until he came to Cornwall. There Arthur and his hosts followed in his track until they overtook him in Cornwall. Hard had been their trouble before, but it was child’s play to what they met in seeking the comb. Win it they did, and the Boar Truith they hunted into the deep sea, and it was never known whither he went.Then Kilhuch set forward, and as many as wished ill to Yspathaden Penkawr. And they took the marvels with them to his court. And Kaw of North Britain came and shaved his beard, skin and flesh clean off to the very bone from ear to ear.“Art thou shaved, man?” said Kilhuch.“I am shaved,” answered he.“Is thy daughter mine now?”“She is thine, but therefore needst thou not thank me, but Arthur who hath accomplished this for thee. By my free will thou shouldst never have had her, for with her I lose my life.”Then Goreu the son of Custennin seized him by the hair of his head and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head and placed it on a stake on the citadel.Thereafter the hosts of Arthur dispersed themselves each man to his own country.Thus did Kilhuch son of Kelython win to wife Olwen, the daughter of Yspathaden Penkawr.
Once upon a time something happened. If it hadn’t happened, it wouldn’t be told.There was once a poor widow, so poor that even the flies would not stay in her house, and this widow had two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was such a brave fellow that he would have torn the snakes’ tongues out of their mouths, and the girl was so beautiful that the emperor’s sons and handsome princes of every land were waiting impatiently for her to grow up, that they might go and court her. But when the girl had reached her sixteenth year, the same thing befell her that happens to all beautiful maidens—a dragon came, stole her, and carried her far away to the shore of another country. From that day the widow loved her son hundreds and thousands of times better than before, because he was now her only child and the sole joy she had in the world. She watched him like the apple of her eye and would not let him go a single step away from her. But much as she loved him she was cheerless and sad, for, dear me! a boy is only a boy, but a girl is a girl, especially when she is beautiful.The boy, seeing his mother so melancholy, tried to grow stronger and stronger, and counted the days before he should be large enough to go out into the world and seek his sister, little Rosy Cheeks, along untrodden paths filled with thorns. When he had reached his eighteenth year he made himself a pair of calf-skin sandals with steel soles, went to his mother, and said:—“Mother, I have neither rest nor peace here so long as I see you so sick and sorrowful from constantly thinking of my sister; I have determined to go out into the wide world and not return till I can bring news of her. I don’t know whether I shall find her, but at least I hope so, and that hope I leave with you for your consolation.”When the widow heard these words she was forced to struggle with her feelings ere she answered: “Well, my son, my child! Do what you can not help doing; when you return I shall see you again, and if you don’t come back I shall not weep for you, because the journey you have in view is a long one; therefore if you are absent a long time there will always be the hope of your return.”After saying this she mixed three loaves for him with her own milk, one of meal, the second of bran, and the third of ashes from the hearth. The lad put the loaves into his knapsack, bade his mother farewell, and went out into the world like a poor boy to whom all roads are equally long, all bridges equally wide, and who does not know what direction to take. At the gate he stood still, cast one glance to the east, one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south, then took a handful of dust from under the threshold of the door, scattered it on the wind, and turned his steps in the direction that it was carried by the breeze.The Poor Boy walked and walked, further and further, through many a rich country, till he came to a moor on which no grass grew and no water flowed. Here he stopped and pulled out his three loaves. He began with the one made of meal, because it was the handsomest, and as he ate it his strength increased and his thirst was quenched. Again the Poor Boy walked on, journeying across the wide moor a whole long summer day until nightfall, when he reached a vast forest as extensive as the heath he had passed, but which was dense, gloomy, and forsaken even by the winds. When he entered the wood, he saw by the trunk of a tree an old woman with a bent figure and a wrinkled face. The Poor Boy, who for so long a time had seen no human countenance and heard no human speech, was greatly delighted and said merrily:—“Good luck, mother! But how do you happen to come here, and what are you doing in this wilderness of a forest?”“Your words are kind!” replied the old woman sighing. “Alas, age has brought me down to this; I wanted to walk a little distance and can go no further because my feet will no longer carry me.”When the Poor Boy heard this he pitied the old woman, went up to her, and asked whence she came, where she was going, and on what business she was bent. The luckless fellow did not know that this person was no other than the Wood Witch, who waits on the edge of forests and meets those who wander in these desolate regions, in order to delude them with fair words and then lead them to destruction. When he saw her so feeble, the boy remembered his three loaves, and, as if he were going home the very next day, thought he would share his provisions with her that she might get a little strength.“I thank you,” replied the Wood Witch, who had other designs upon him in her mind; “but see, I have no teeth to chew your dry bread. If you want to do any thing to help me, take me on your back and carry me, I live close by.”“But just taste it,” said the boy, who in his kindness of heart wanted to do her some good. “It is only hunger that has made you so weak, and if this doesn’t help you I’ll carry you as you wish.”When the Wood Witch saw the loaf made of meal she gazed at it with delight; there was something about it—I don’t know what—that made even the Wood Witch long for a morsel. And as she bit into it her heart grew softer. After she had eaten three mouthfuls she felt as if she were a human being, like the rest of us, with her heart in the right place and a gentle temper.“Learn, my son,” she said to him, “that I am the Wood Witch, and know very well who you are, whence you come, and where you are going. It is a great task you have before you, for your sister is in the other world, which inhabitants of this earth can reach only in one way.”“And what is that?” asked the Poor Boy impatiently.The Wood Witch looked doubtfully at him.“I don’t advise you to take it,” she said, “it would be a pity to lose your young life. But who knows, perhaps you’ll have good luck; I see that you have a tender heart, and whoever has that can bring many things to pass; besides, I know you—you will have no rest till you have found her. So learn—far away from here, after you have crossed six moors and six forests, you will meet on the edge of the seventh forest, which extends to the frontiers of the next world, an old witch; this witch has a drove of horses, and among them is an enchanted horse which can carry you to the other shore. But this steed can be obtained only by the person who knows how to choose it from the whole drove, after he has served the old witch for a year.”This was what the Poor Boy had wanted to know. He lost no more time, thanked the Wood Witch for her explanations, and set off, keeping straight through the dense forest, because his road was long and he was in a hurry. The Poor Boy walked like one who goes on a good errand, and hurried like a person who wants to get home early. How far he walked and how much he hurried any one can imagine, who remembers how long a time he himself required to cross a single moor and a single forest. But, when his strength failed, he bit off a piece of his loaf and instantly revived again.As he came out of the sixth forest and passed near the clear waves of a brook, he saw a wasp struggling in the water and pitied the insect. So he took a dry branch and held out one end of it to the wasp, that it might crawl up on it and then use its wings. But this wasp happened to be the queen of all the wasps in the woods, and when she found herself saved by the boy’s kindness she flew upon his shoulder and said:“Wherever you go, may good-luck be your companion. Please pull out a hair from under my right wing and take good care of it, for who knows whether it will not prove useful to you some day. If you need me, shake this hair and I’ll come to you, in whatever part of the world you may be.”The Poor Boy pulled out the hair, put it carefully away, and journeyed on. Who knows how far he walked before he came to a great lake, on whose shore he saw a fish flapping on the dry land. He pitied the poor creature, which had scarcely a breath of life left, so he picked it up and tossed it into the water. But this fish was king of all the fishes, and had jeweled scales and golden fins. It swam once around the lake, breathed two or three times to recover its strength, and then came back to the boy and said:“Wherever you go, may good-luck be your companion. Please pull off a scale from under my right fin and keep it carefully, who knows whether it may not be useful to you some day. If you ever need me, rub this scale and I’ll come to you wherever you may be, as far as the water extends around the earth.”The Poor Boy took the scale, put it carefully away, and journeyed on. Who knows how far he walked ere he reached the seventh moor, where no grass grew and no water flowed. There he found in his path a mole which had been surprised above ground by the daylight, and was now groping piteously about in its blindness, unable to find its burrow where its children were starving, though it was only one jump away. The youth pitied the mole, too, took it and carried it to its hill.“Wherever you go,” said the mole, “may good-luck be your companion. Please take a claw from my right paw and keep it carefully; who knows whether it may not be useful to you some day. But if you need me, scratch on the ground with this claw and I will come to you in whatever part of the earth you may be.”The Poor Boy took the claw, put it carefully away, and went on again over the endless moor toward the invisible forest that lay on the frontiers of the other world. How many days and nights he journeyed over this moor heaven only knows; but one morning, when he woke, he saw in the distance, as far off as if it were in the other world, a streak of light like the fire shepherds build at the entrance of the fold. This was the home of the witch who had the enchanted horse.The Poor Boy was greatly delighted when he found himself so near the end of the world, and his joy increased till, on the evening of the third day, he reached the enchantress’s house. Oh, dear! there he was, in the midst of the moor, just at the edge of the forest, which stretched far beyond his sight in the dusk of twilight, upon a wide plain covered with green grass, through which flowed streams of clear water, but in the middle of this plain rose a number of tall poles, on each of which was a human skull. The witch’s hut stood in the midst of these poles, with a tall poplar in front of it, and on the right and left a willow tree. This proved that the Wood Witch was right—life here was by no means merry. The Poor Boy plucked up his courage and approached to enter the hut, which stood as if deserted in the middle of the moor.The old witch sat on a high three-legged chair in the entry, but before her stood a huge kettle on a big tripod, over a fire that burned without smoke. In one hand she held the shin-bone of a giant, which she used to stir the herbs stewing in the caldron. When the Poor Boy bade her good evening, she eyed him from top to toe.“Welcome, my hero! I’ve expected you a long time, for this caldron has long been rattling and telling me continually that you were on the way.”The lad was much pleased with this kind reception, for the old woman did not seem to him at all peevish, as she looked kindly at him and spoke in a gentle voice. She, too, was glad, because she had again laid hands on a man, for the poles bearing human skulls protected her from the malicious elves, who could not pass through them; and there was still one piece of ground large enough for three heads, where poles had not yet been put.They now agreed that the Poor Boy should watch the drove a whole year, and in payment receive the horse he himself should choose; but if he should lose the drove he was to give up his head to the witch. The old woman instantly stuck a pole in the ground and put the hero’s hat on it. Then the youth ate something, that he might not go with the drove to the pasture hungry. While the boy was eating, the witch led the mares behind the hut and began to beat them with the giant’s shin bone, telling them not to drink any water during the night, nor allow the others to do so, because the water from the springs in the plain would put them to sleep, and the old woman wanted the herd to graze all night. The boy knew nothing about this.When he came to the pasture with the drove he was attacked by so great a thirst, that he would have walked from morning till night to find a drop of water; so to quench it he lay down by a spring and drank, and even while drinking he fell asleep.When in the first gray dawn of the next morning he woke from his slumber, the drove had vanished, leaving no trace anywhere! It is only necessary to remember that the lad’s cap was already hanging on the pole to understand how great was his despair. But he gazed around him in every direction without discovering even a sign of a horse; the morning twilight was fast vanishing, and he stood utterly forsaken, not knowing which way to turn. Then he recollected the service he had once rendered the wasp, and thought that a wasp flies so fast that it might discover the drove and bring him news of their hiding-place, so he took the hair he had pulled from under the wasp’s right wing and shook it. Quick as thought a buzzing noise was heard from every direction—it grew louder and louder, till one might have thought the world was going to ruin. Good gracious! There came one wasp after another, one swarm behind another, whole ranks, great clouds of wasps of all sizes, all ready to circle the earth and obey the Poor Boy’s commands.“Have no anxiety,” said the Wasp Queen; “if the drove still remains on the earth, we’ll bring the horses back to you ere sunrise.”Then every thing became quiet, because the wasps flew off to every quarter of the globe and scattered all over the world. Ere long a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, swept with mad haste over the wide plain in the midst of the moor, and the drove of horses, urged by the wasps’ stings, dashed up so swiftly that the earth fairly groaned under their hoofs. The Poor Boy thanked the wasps for their help, and then went to the hut as if nothing had happened.The old woman looked askance at him, said he had done well, and then beat the mares again, ordering them to hide carefully at night. That evening the lad would eat nothing, because he thought the witch’s food had caused his terrible thirst the night before; but when he went with the drove to the pasture, a burning, consuming thirst seized upon him as soon as he saw the clear water, and wherever he went springs bubbled from under his feet. At last he could no longer control himself, and relying upon the aid of the wasps, lay down beside a spring and had scarcely drunk when he instantly fell asleep. This time he woke later than on the night before, because he had gone to sleep later, so he was later in shaking the hair he had pulled out from under the wasp’s wing, and the swarms of wasps were later in coming to seek and drive the horses home.But what did the youth see? Ere long one swarm after another returned, each bringing news that the drove could not be found on the surface of the earth and must have hidden somewhere in the sea.The sun was about to rise. The Poor Boy took the fish-scale, rubbed it, and suddenly there appeared in the springs at his feet a school of tiny fish, that filled every channel, and asked what were his wishes and commands. He told them what he desired and instantly all the waters on the earth, rivers, lakes, and seas, began to swell and dash, while the wasps flew off to be ready to pounce upon the drove as soon as the fish forced the horses to appear.The Poor Boy had scarcely time to collect his horses and take them home when the sun rose.The old woman looked angrily at him, but said again that he had done well, and gave the mares a still more terrible beating; for the year consisted of three days, and if they did not hide successfully that night the hero might demand his wages.The Poor Boy knew this too. So he began to eat his meal-loaf as he went with the drove to the pasture, and whenever he bit off a piece his strength increased and his thirst was quenched. Yet, whenever he saw the springs or heard the water rippling over the pebbles, he grew thirsty again, and so devoured the whole of the meal-loaf. He ought now to have taken the bran loaf, but did not venture to do so because he still had a long journey before him, and was afraid of being without food. Therefore he again relied on the aid of the wasps and fishes, lay down by a spring, and as soon as he had drunk fell asleep.When he awoke it was broad daylight, though the sun had not yet risen. He shook the hair, but the wasps came with the tidings that the drove was not on the surface of the earth, he rubbed the fish-scale, but the fishes said the horses were not under the water either; so, in his despair, he seized the mole’s claw and scratched on the ground with it.Then you should have seen the wonder! The wasps buzzed, the fish searched all the water in the world, and the moles began to rummage the earth, furrowing it in every direction as if they meant to make it into pap. When the first sunbeams touched the top of the poplar before the hut, the drove dashed like hunted ghosts to the Poor Boy; if the horses tried to go into the water the fish scared them back, if they tried to hide themselves in the ground the claws of the moles drove them out, and so they were forced to go wherever the wasps guided them.The Poor Boy thanked his friends for their help, and returned home just as the sun shone upon the hut. The old woman looked angrily at him, but said nothing.But now trouble came. The year was over, and the Poor Boy began to rack his brains because he did not know which horse in the drove he ought to choose. That’s the way with over-hasty people. The Wood Witch could probably have told him this, too, if he had not left her so quickly. Now he went to work hap-hazard. Still, he thought, whatever he might hit upon he should not fare badly, for on a long journey it was better at any rate to be on horseback than on foot. Besides, he had seen the old witch’s horses run and knew that they were fine animals, no worthless jades. So he went through the drove, and as he walked noticed a sick filly, which he pitied because it looked so neglected, but he did not think of choosing it. But, no matter how much he turned and twisted, he always stopped beside this animal, for he was very kind-hearted and told himself that, even if he could not make much use of it, he could at least do the poor creature some service.“Who knows,” he said, “if I should comb, brush, and curry it, perhaps it may yet make a good horse!”So he chose it, and resolved to take with him the pouch containing the comb, brush, and curry-comb, in order to carefully tend his horse.The old witch turned green with spite when she heard that the youth had chosen this steed, for it was the very one. But what could she do? She was obliged to keep her promise. She merely advised him to select another, better animal, telling him that he would soon be without a horse, and that good work deserved good wages, but at last she gave it to him.Still, a witch always remains a witch, and when the Poor Boy had mounted, taken leave of her, and ridden off, she went to the big caldron, took it off and mounted the tripod, then she changed herself in face and figure and hurried after with the speed of curses, to catch him, kill him, and get her horse back. The Poor Boy felt that something terrible was pursuing him, and set spurs to his steed.“It’s no use to spur me,” said the horse, “we can’t outrun her, so long as we are on her lands. But throw the comb behind you, to put an obstacle in her way.”Now the Poor Boy knew that he had chosen wisely when he took the sick filly. So he drew the comb out of the bag, flung it behind him, and it instantly became a long, high fence, which the witch could not climb over, so she was obliged to go a long way round, and he thus gained a start.“Throw down the brush,” said the horse, when it again heard the trampling of the tripod near them.The rider threw the brush, which turned into a dense growth of reeds, through which the old hag forced her way with much difficulty and many a groan.“Throw the curry-comb,” cried the horse for the third time. When he had flung that down, the Poor Boy looked back and saw a whole forest of knives and swords, and among them the witch trying to get through and being cut into mince-meat.When they reached the seventh forest, where the witch’s kingdom ended, the sick horse shook itself and became a handsome, winged steed, whose like was never seen before or since.“Now hold fast,” said the horse, “I am going to carry you as never hero went from this world to the other, for I, too, have a sister there whom I seek.”The Poor Boy was dazed by the swiftness with which the horse flew over the forest and alighted in the other world through a large opening in another part of the woods. When he recovered his senses, he found himself on the shore of the other world with the horse, which now shook itself a second time, changed into a handsome prince with long, curling locks, and said:“Wherever you go, may good luck be your companion, for you have released me from the spell the Wood Witch laid upon me. Learn that I am the son of the Red Emperor and set out to seek my sister, but on the edge of the forest I met the Wood Witch, who complained that she could walk no further and begged me to carry her on my back; but when, out of pity, I let her get on my shoulders, she changed me into a horse and condemned me to retain that form until a hero took pity on me and mounted me, that I might carry him to the other world, there I was to regain my human form.”The Poor Boy was greatly overjoyed to find himself no longer alone. He took the bran loaf, broke it in halves, and gave one portion to the prince, that they might be brothers till death. The prince tasted the bread, and as he ate his strength and his love increased. They told each other their experiences, and then went on their way.Far, far off, just at the end of the coast-line, rose shining buildings, which must be the dragons’ palaces. The country here was so beautiful, that one would have gladly traveled through it forever, it was so radiant with light, so green, so rich in flowers, birds of beautiful plumage, and tame, sportive animals. And in this country men never grew old, but remained exactly the same age as when they entered it, for here there were no days, the sun neither rose nor set, but the light came of itself, as if from a clear sky. The dragons, however, were nowhere to be seen, and the two brothers for life continued their way. After they had walked as far as a three-days’ march, they reached the beautiful palaces and paused before them, because they were so marvelously lovely, with high towers, and walls built of stones as soft as velvet, covered with plates of snow that had been dried in the sun. But they seemed empty and deserted.The Poor Boy and the prince entered, went through all the rooms filled with costly ornaments, and, seeing no one, thought that the dragon must surely have gone hunting and determined to wait for him. But they were surprised that they did not find their sisters here. Each stretched himself on one of the beautiful divans and was going to rest, when suddenly both started up, amazed by what they heard.Dear me! It was a song, so touching that it would have softened the very stones; it made those who listened feel as if they were in heaven, and the notes were in a woman’s voice. The two companions did not listen long, but hurried off in the direction from which the sound came.This is what they saw—in one part of the palace was a glass tower, and in this tower sat a girl spinning, singing, and weeping, but her tears, in falling, were instantly changed to pearls. This maiden was so beautiful that, if she had been in the world, two men would have killed each other for her sake. When the heroes beheld her, they stood motionless and gazed longingly at her, but the girl stopped spinning, and neither sang nor wept, but looked at them in amazement.She was not the sister of either youth, but as usually happens in such cases, the Poor Boy supposed she was the prince’s sister, and the prince thought she was the sister of the Poor Boy.“I’ll stay here,” said the Poor Boy, “and you can go on, deliver my sister, and marry her.”“No, I’ll stay here,” replied the prince, “you can go on and release my sister, for this maiden shall be my wife.”Now came trouble! When they understood that the lovely girl was the sister of neither, the handsome heroes seized their swords and were on the point of fighting as men do fight when they are obliged to divide any thing.“Stop,” said the fair girl, “don’t attack each other. It is better first to discover whether I am really what I seem to you, or, after all, only a shadow! I am the Bodiless Maiden, who will not obtain form in this world until the dragon has stolen me from the other shore. I shall then be as you see me now, shall spin, sing, and weep, because I shall think of my mother who is spinning, singing, and weeping; and your sisters, who were stolen by the two older brothers of the dragon who rules this palace spin, sing, and weep, too.”On hearing this, the two heroes wanted to set off at once, in order to lose no more time on the way.“Stop, don’t be over hasty,” said the Bodiless Maiden. “You probably think that you will conquer the dragons by mere will? Great deeds await you. The old she-dragon put me here, that I might constantly spur on her youngest son, because it is written that all three brothers are to be married at the same time. The two older brothers keep your sisters prisoners, but can not wed them till the youngest son has stolen me. Whenever he comes home from hunting, he stops there where you are standing, gazes longingly at me, then arranges his weapons and feeds his horse with red-hot coals, but can’t set out yet because my hour has not come. So stay and conquer him here, that he may not steal me while you are on your way, for you would then be too late in reaching your sisters. Yet mind one thing; you can not conquer him outside of his court-yard, because he is invisible. So, when he comes home, he throws his club at the gate with so much force that the earth quakes, the walls fall down, and any mortals who might be inside are buried alive. If you feel that you have strength enough to hold the gates on their hinges, so that they can not give way when he hurls the club against them, stay, otherwise go, in God’s name, for it would be a pity to lose your young lives.”The Poor Boy and the prince looked at each other, understood that the deed must be done, and resolved to stay. While the Poor Boy went to the gates to hold them, the prince drew his sword and awaited the dragon in the middle of the court-yard. You can perceive that this was no joke.Very little time passed, when suddenly, crash! the club struck against the iron-barred gates so that one might have believed the world was falling to pieces. The Poor Boy thought the muscles of his heart would crack in two under the terrible strain, and the walls would crumble to their foundations—but he held the gates on their hinges. When the dragon saw that the palace did not fall down, he stood still in surprise.“What does this mean?” he said. “I must have grown very weak since yesterday.” He did not suspect what awaited him.When, with some difficulty, he opened the gate, he did not notice the Poor Boy, but went straight toward the prince, who stood in mortal terror in the middle of the court-yard, for, after all, what would you expect? A dragon is a dragon, and not a girl in woman’s clothes.We won’t linger over the story any longer, we know what always happens when dragons and princes meet. They began the battle. The prince was a hero, but the dragon was the youngest of three brothers! They fought with swords, who knows how long? then, when they saw that neither could conquer the other in that way, they fought hand to hand, while the Poor Boy held up the palace, that it might not fall down on their heads.When the Poor Boy saw that his strength was failing and neither was conquering the other, he called loudly: “Seize him and throw him on the ground, I can hold out no longer.”The prince grasped the dragon, summoned up all his strength, and hurled him on the ground so that his bones cracked and he lay senseless; then he hastily took to flight, ran through the half-open gate, and pulled the Poor Boy after him; the walls fell, the huge splendid palaces toppled down, and, as it were, buried the dragon alive. Nothing remained standing except the glass tower, now empty and deserted. The Bodiless Maiden had vanished from it the very moment that there was no longer any one who could have stolen her from the other world.The two comrades thanked the Lord that they had been able to accomplish their task so far, and journeyed on, walking and walking, till they reached the palace of the second dragon. Already in the distance they saw the glass tower and heard the wailing song; but the Poor Boy’s heart beat higher, because the nearer he approached the more distinctly he recognized his sister’s voice. When they reached the beautiful great palace and saw the girl in the glass tower, both rushed up to break into the turret and clasp her in their arms.But affairs could not be managed so easily. The girl in the glass tower, who was really the Poor Boy’s sister, looked at them in surprise; but when he told her that he had come to rescue her from the dragon’s claws, she replied that she did not know him, and that neither in face nor form did he bear any resemblance to her brother. Great was the Poor Boy’s grief when he saw that his sister wanted to have nothing to do with him, though for her sake he had crossed so many moors and encountered so many dangers, but his sorrow became still greater when she began to complain that she was dying of love for the dragon. Every day, she said, he came and gazed ardently at her, yet day after day kept her a prisoner and did not marry her. Still, this was endurable to the Poor Boy, because she was only his sister; but when the prince saw the girl, heard her voice, and perceived her love for the dragon, he became perfectly frantic.“Well then, if you won’t come, we’ll carry you off by force!” he said, ready to take the whole palace on his back and fly with it to the other shore.“Gently, gently,” said the girl; “if it came to that, I need only pull a nail out of this glass wall to bring the whole palace toppling down upon your heads. But I pity your youth, and advise you not to stay here long, because my betrothed husband might catch you, and you will have no one to mourn for you.”The Poor Boy now took his ash-cake from his knapsack and said: “Sister, just taste this bread, and then say that I am not your brother.”She held out her hand and the glass walls opened; but after she had taken the bread and tasted it she felt that it had been mixed with her own mother’s milk, and was seized with such terrible homesickness that one might have wept for pity. “Forward!” she said hastily, “let us fly, for if he finds us here, woe betide you.”The Poor Boy took her in his arms and kissed her, because she was his sister, but the prince embraced and kissed her, too, because—because he was the Poor Boy’s sworn brother.Then they agreed to serve this dragon as they had served his brother, so they waited awhile, received the dragon as he deserved, conquered him, and after thanking God that they had overcome this peril too, journeyed on again to deliver the emperor’s daughter.But now came fresh trouble. The princess did not want to be rescued, and the prince had no token with him by which she might have recognized him as her brother. In vain the Poor Boy told her that if she did not come willingly, he would carry her off by force; she kept her hand on the dangerous nail and it was impossible to coax her.I must mention that it would go hard with them if they waited for the dragon; for there were only two champions, and if one held up the palace by keeping the gates on their hinges and the other waited for the dragon in the middle of the court-yard, there was no one who could protect them from the nail.“Let me attend to it,” said the Poor Boy, who, since he had seen the princess, had grown fairly frantic. “Either his life or mine!”As we perceive, he had determined to fight the dragon in the open ground, where he could not see him,—a thing never heard of since fairy princes first began to fight the dragon’s brood; for if it is hard to conquer a dragon at all, it is doubly difficult to vanquish one when he is invisible, and no one had ever thought of such an exploit.The prince and the Poor Boy’s sister hid themselves in a ditch near the palace, that the dragon might not see them; but the Poor Boy stationed himself a little behind the gate and waited for the dragon to hurl his club, in order to get near him, for when he no longer had a club he would be obliged to fight either with his sword or with his fists.Ere long, crash! the club struck the iron-barred gate, but the Poor Boy was not slow, he opened the other gate and ran out with it, leaving the palace to fall in ruins behind him.“Come on, if you have the courage to show yourself,” he shouted, believing that the dragon would make some reply and thus betray himself.But the dragon felt that he had found his match, and did not think of speaking, but, invisible to the youth, approached, drew his sword, and aimed straight at his enemy’s head to hack it off, but the blow only broke the lad’s jaw. The wound hurt the Poor Boy, but it pleased him, too, because he now knew where to look for his foe; so he rushed in the direction from which the blow had come, struck out, and felt that he hit flesh, struck again, and again felt that he had hit, and so continued to deal short, swift thrusts, with, which he drove the dragon before the point of his sword. Suddenly he perceived that he no longer hit any thing and the dragon had escaped, so he stood cowering, like a person who does not know from whence the next blow will come.The dragon again aimed straight at the Poor Boy’s head, and as he hacked, struck off his right ear.“I’ll pay you for that,” shouted the youth, rushing upon him again. But his strength was now greatly diminished, and he only hit the dragon twice before he lost him from the point of his saber.The princess was watching their battle from her tower, which had remained standing, and as she watched wondered at the Poor Boy’s heroic courage; but when she saw the dragon aiming a third blow at the youth’s head, she called: “Dear hero, turn to the right and spit three times, then you can see your foe.”When the Poor Boy heard this, he felt a hundred thousand times stronger than he had been before, and as he turned to the right, spit, and saw the dragon, he rushed upon him, seized him in his arms, and squeezed him so that he crushed all his bones and flung him on the ground as dead as a mouse.The prince and the Poor Boy lost no time, but prepared to journey home. The princess kissed the Poor Boy and his ear and his chin instantly healed, so that he looked even handsomer than before. Then the two comrades went to the dragon’s stables, which were hidden under the foundations of the fallen palace. Each took an enchanted horse, mounted, lifted his betrothed bride upon it, and hurried homeward.If the Red Emperor had been only an ordinary mortal he would have rejoiced, but he was a sovereign to boot! He divided his empire between his son and his daughter’s husband; the Poor Boy went to his poor mother’s house to bring her to court and, when she had arrived, a wedding was celebrated, dear me! a wedding that will be talked about as long as the world stands.
A Lion lay sick in his den, unable to provide himself with food. So he said to his friend the Fox, who came to ask how he did, “My good friend, I wish you would go to yonder wood and beguile the big Stag, who lives there, to come to my den: I have a fancy to make my dinner off a stag’s heart and brains.” The Fox went to the wood and found the Stag and said to him, “My dear sir, you’re in luck. You know the Lion, our King: well, he’s at the point of death, and has appointed you his successor to rule over the beasts. I hope you won’t forget that I was the first to bring you the good news. And now I must be going back to him; and, if you take my advice, you’ll come too and be with him at the last.”The Stag was highly flattered, and followed the Fox to the Lion’s den, suspecting nothing. No sooner had he got inside than the Lion sprang upon him, but he misjudged his spring, and the Stag got away with only his ears torn, and returned as fast as he could to the shelter of the wood. The Fox was much mortified, and the Lion, too, was dreadfully disappointed, for he was getting very hungry in spite of his illness. So he begged the Fox to have another try at coaxing the Stag to his den. “It’ll be almost impossible this time,” said the Fox, “but I’ll try”; and off he went to the wood a second time, and found the Stag resting and trying to recover from his fright.As soon as he saw the Fox he cried, “You scoundrel, what do you mean by trying to lure me to my death like that? Take yourself off, or I’ll do you to death with my horns.” But the Fox was entirely shameless. “What a coward you were,” said he; “surely you didn’t think the Lion meant any harm? Why, he was only going to whisper some royal secrets into your ear when you went off like a scared rabbit. You have rather disgusted him, and I’m not sure he won’t make the wolf King instead, unless you come back at once and show you’ve got some spirit. I promise you he won’t hurt you, and I will be your faithful servant.”The Stag was foolish enough to be persuaded to return, and this time the Lion made no mistake, but overpowered him, and feasted right royally upon his carcase. The Fox, meanwhile, watched his chance and, when the Lion wasn’t looking, filched away the brains to reward him for his trouble. Presently the Lion began searching for them, of course without success: and the Fox, who was watching him, said, “I don’t think it’s much use your looking for the brains: a creature who twice walked into a Lion’s den can’t have got any.”
The Story of the Dogs’ Dinner PartyOnce upon a time the dogs gave a dinner party. All the dogs were invited and all the dogs accepted the invitation. There were big dogs and little dogs and middle-sized dogs. There were black dogs and white dogs and brown dogs and gray dogs and yellow dogs and spotted dogs. There were dogs with long tails and dogs with short tails and dogs with no tails at all. There were dogs with little sharp-pointed ears and dogs with big flat drooping ears. There were dogs with long slender noses and dogs with short fat turn-up noses. All these dogs came to the party.Now the dinner was a most elaborate affair. Everything had been arranged with the utmost care. All the good things to eat were spread out upon the rocks by the sea. A gay sparkling little brook brought water to drink. The sun was shining brightly and a soft gentle little breeze was blowing. Everything seemed absolutely perfect.But there was a cross fussy old dog who came to the party. She was a yellow dog, they say. Nothing ever suited her. Whenever she went to a party she always found fault with something. Sometimes there was too little to eat and sometimes there was too much. Sometimes the hot things were not hot enough and sometimes the cold things were not cold enough. Sometimes the hot things were so hot they burned her mouth and the cold things so cold that they gave her indigestion. There was always something wrong.At this party, however, there was not too much to eat and there was not too little to eat. The hot things were all just hot enough and the cold things were all just cold enough. Everything seemed to be exactly as it should be.“How good everything tastes!” remarked the big black dog between polite mouthfuls.“Everything is seasoned exactly right,” added the black and white spotted dog between mouthfuls which were entirely too large to be polite.That was an unfortunate remark. The cross fussy yellow dog heard it. She noticed immediately that the big juicy bone she was eating had not been seasoned with pepper.“Will somebody please pass the pepper?” she asked.All the black dogs and white dogs and brown dogs and yellow dogs and gray dogs and spotted dogs fell over each other trying to find the pepper to pass. There was not a single bit of pepper at that dinner party.“I can’t eat a mouthful until I have some pepper,” whined the yellow dog.“I’ll go into the city and get some pepper,” said one of the dogs. Nobody ever knew which dog it was.The dog who went into the city to get the pepper never came back. Nobody ever knew what became of him.Whenever two dogs meet they always sniff at each other. If one of them should happen to be the dog who went into the city to get the pepper, he would surely smell of pepper.
Goodwife Eunice Cole, of Hampton, Massachusetts, was so “vehemently suspected to be a witch” that in 1680 she was thrown into jail with a chain on her leg. She had a mumbling habit, which was bad, and a wild look, which was worse. The death of two calves had been charged to her sorceries, and she was believed to have raised the cyclone that sent a party of merrymakers to the sea-bottom off the Isles of Shoals, for insulting her that morning. Some said that she took the shapes of eagles, dogs, and cats, and that she had the aspect of an ape when she went through the mummeries that caused Goody Marston’s child to die, yet while she was in Ipswich jail a likeness of her was stumping about the graveyard on the day when they buried the child. For such offences as that of making bread ferment and give forth evil odors, that housekeepers could only dispel by prayer, she was several times whipped and ducked by the constable.At last she lay under sentence of death, for Anna Dalton declared that her child had been changed in its cradle and that she hated and feared the thing that had been left there. Her husband, Ezra, had pleaded with her in vain. “‘Tis no child of mine,” she cried. “‘Tis an imp. Don’t you see how old and shrewd it is? How wrinkled and ugly? It does not take my milk: it is sucking my blood and wearing me to skin and bone.” Once, as she sat brooding by the fire, she turned to her husband and said, “Rake the coals out and put the child in them. Goody Cole will fly fast enough when she hears it screaming, and will come down chimney in the shape of an owl or a bat, and take the thing away. Then we shall have our little one back.”Goodman Dalton sighed as he looked into the worn, scowling face of his wife; then, laying his hands on her head, he prayed to God that she might be led out of the shadow and made to love her child again. As he prayed a gleam of sunset shone in at the window and made a halo around the face of the smiling babe. Mistress Dalton looked at the little thing in doubt; then a glow of recognition came into her eyes, and with a sob of joy she caught the child to her breast, while Dalton embraced them both, deeply happy, for his wife had recovered her reason. In the midst of tears and kisses the woman started with a faint cry: she remembered that a poor old creature was about to expiate on the gallows a crime that had never been committed. She urged her husband to ride with all speed to justice Sewall and demand that Goody Cole be freed. This the goodman did, arriving at Newbury at ten o’clock at night, when the town had long been abed and asleep. By dint of alarms at the justice’s door he brought forth that worthy in gown and night-cap, and, after the case had been explained to him, he wrote an order for Mistress Cole’s release.With this paper in his hand Dalton rode at once to Ipswich, and when the cock crew in the dawning the victim of that horrible charge walked forth, without her manacles. Yet dark suspicion hung about the beldam to the last, and she died, as she had lived, alone in the little cabin that stood near the site of the academy. Even after her demise the villagers could with difficulty summon courage to enter her cot and give her burial. Her body was tumbled into a pit, hastily dug near her door, and a stake was driven through the heart to exorcise the powers of evil that possessed her in life.
One day a peasant took his good hazel-stick out of the corner and said to his wife, “Trina, I am going across country, and shall not return for three days. If during that time the cattle-dealer should happen to call and want to buy our three cows, you may strike a bargain at once, but not unless you can get two hundred thalers for them; nothing less, do you hear?” “For heaven’s sake just go in peace,” answered the woman, “I will manage that.” “You, indeed,” said the man. “You once fell on your head when you were a little child, and that affects you even now; but let me tell you this, if you do anything foolish, I will make your back black and blue, and not with paint, I assure you, but with the stick which I have in my hand, and the colouring shall last a whole year, you may rely on that.” And having said that, the man went on his way.Next morning the cattle-dealer came, and the woman had no need to say many words to him. When he had seen the cows and heard the price, he said, “I am quite willing to give that, honestly speaking, they are worth it. I will take the beasts away with me at once.” He unfastened their chains and drove them out of the byre, but just as he was going out of the yard-door, the woman clutched him by the sleeve and said, “You must give me the two hundred thalers now, or I cannot let the cows go.” “True,” answered the man, “but I have forgotten to buckle on my money-belt. Have no fear, however, you shall have security for my paying. I will take two cows with me and leave one, and then you will have a good pledge.” The woman saw the force of this, and let the man go away with the cows, and thought to herself, “How pleased Hans will be when he finds how cleverly I have managed it!” The peasant came home on the third day as he had said he would, and at once inquired if the cows were sold? “Yes, indeed, dear Hans,” answered the woman, “and as you said, for two hundred thalers. They are scarcely worth so much, but the man took them without making any objection.” “Where is the money?” asked the peasant. “Oh, I have not got the money,” replied the woman; “he had happened to forget his money-belt, but he will soon bring it, and he left good security behind him.” “What kind of security?” asked the man. “One of the three cows, which he shall not have until he has paid for the other two. I have managed very cunningly, for I have kept the smallest, which eats the least.” The man was enraged and lifted up his stick, and was just going to give her the beating he had promised her. Suddenly he let the stick fall and said, “You are the stupidest goose that ever waddled on God’s earth, but I am sorry for you. I will go out into the highways and wait for three days to see if I find any one who is still stupider than you. If I succeed in doing so, you shall go scot-free, but if I do not find him, you shall receive your well-deserved reward without any discount.”He went out into the great highways, sat down on a stone, and waited for what would happen. Then he saw a peasant’s wagon coming towards him, and a woman was standing upright in the middle of it, instead of sitting on the bundle of straw which was lying beside her, or walking near the oxen and leading them. The man thought to himself, “That is certainly one of the kind I am in search of,” and jumped up and ran backwards and forwards in front of the wagon like one who is not very wise. “What do you want, my friend?” said the woman to him; “I don’t know you, where do you come from?” “I have fallen down from Heaven,” replied the man, “and don’t know how to get back again, couldn’t you drive me up?” “No,” said the woman, “I don’t know the way, but if you come from Heaven you can surely tell me how my husband, who has been there these three years, is. You must have seen him?” “Oh, yes, I have seen him, but all men can’t get on well. He keeps sheep, and the sheep give him a great deal to do. They run up the mountains and lose their way in the wilderness, and he has to run after them and drive them together again. His clothes are all torn to pieces too, and will soon fall off his body. There is no tailor there, for Saint Peter won’t let any of them in, as you know by the story.” “Who would have thought it?” cried the woman, “I tell you what, I will fetch his Sunday coat which is still hanging at home in the cupboard, he can wear that and look respectable. You will be so kind as to take it with you.” “That won’t do very well,” answered the peasant; “people are not allowed to take clothes into Heaven, they are taken away from one at the gate.” “Then hark you,” said the woman, “I sold my fine wheat yesterday and got a good lot of money for it, I will send that to him. If you hide the purse in your pocket, no one will know that you have it.” “If you can’t manage it any other way,” said the peasant, “I will do you that favor.” “Just sit still where you are,” said she, “and I will drive home and fetch the purse, I shall soon be back again. I do not sit down on the bundle of straw, but stand up in the waggon, because it makes it lighter for the cattle.” She drove her oxen away, and the peasant thought, “That woman has a perfect talent for folly, if she really brings the money, my wife may think herself fortunate, for she will get no beating.” It was not long before she came in a great hurry with the money, and with her own hands put it in his pocket. Before she went away, she thanked him again a thousand times for his courtesy.When the woman got home again, she found her son who had come in from the field. She told him what unlooked-for things had befallen her, and then added, “I am truly delighted at having found an opportunity of sending something to my poor husband. Who would ever have imagined that he could be suffering for want of anything up in Heaven?” The son was full of astonishment. “Mother,” said he, “it is not every day that a man comes from Heaven in this way, I will go out immediately, and see if he is still to be found; he must tell me what it is like up there, and how the work is done.” He saddled the horse and rode off with all speed. He found the peasant who was sitting under a willow-tree, and was just going to count the money in the purse. “Have you seen the man who has fallen down from Heaven?” cried the youth to him. “Yes,” answered the peasant, “he has set out on his way back there, and has gone up that hill, from whence it will be rather nearer; you could still catch him up, if you were to ride fast.” “Alas,” said the youth, “I have been doing tiring work all day, and the ride here has completely worn me out; you know the man, be so kind as to get on my horse, and go and persuade him to come here.” “Aha!” thought the peasant, “here is another who has no wick in his lamp!” “Why should I not do you this favor?” said he, and mounted the horse and rode off in a quick trot. The youth remained sitting there till night fell, but the peasant never came back. “The man from Heaven must certainly have been in a great hurry, and would not turn back,” thought he, “and the peasant has no doubt given him the horse to take to my father.” He went home and told his mother what had happened, and that he had sent his father the horse so that he might not have to be always running about. “Thou hast done well,” answered she, “thy legs are younger than his, and thou canst go on foot.”When the peasant got home, he put the horse in the stable beside the cow which he had as a pledge, and then went to his wife and said, “Trina, as your luck would have it, I have found two who are still sillier fools than you; this time you escape without a beating, I will store it up for another occasion.” Then he lighted his pipe, sat down in his grandfather’s chair, and said, “It was a good stroke of business to get a sleek horse and a great purse full of money into the bargain, for two lean cows. If stupidity always brought in as much as that I would be quite willing to hold it in honour.” So thought the peasant, but you no doubt prefer the simple folks.
Jacob Hurd, stern witch-harrier of Ipswich, can abide nothing out of the ordinary course of things, whether it be flight on a broomstick or the wrong adding of figures; so his son gives him trouble, for he is an imaginative boy, who walks alone, talking to the birds, making rhymes, picking flowers, and dreaming. That he will never be a farmer, mechanic, or tradesman is as good as certain, and one day when the child runs in with a story of a golden horse, with tail and mane of silver, on which he has ridden over land and sea, climbing mountains and swimming rivers, he turns pale with fright lest the boy be bewitched; then, as the awfulness of the invention becomes manifest, he cries, “Thou knowest thou art lying,” and strikes the little fellow.The boy staggers into his mother’s arms, and that night falls into a fever, in which he raves of his horse and the places he will see, while Jacob sits by his side, too sore in heart for words, and he never leaves the cot for food or sleep till the fever is burned out. Just before he closes his eyes the child looks about him and says that he hears the horse pawing in the road, and, either for dust or cloud or sun gleam, it seems for an instant as if the horse were there. The boy gives a cry of joy, then sinks upon his pillow, lifeless.Some time after this Jacob sets off one morning, while the stars are out, to see three witches hanged, but at evening his horse comes flying up the road, splashed with blood and foam, and the neighbors know from that of Jacob’s death, for he is lying by the wayside with an Indian arrow in his heart and an axemark on his head. The wife runs to the door, and, though she shakes with fear at its approach, she sees that in the sunset glow the horse’s sides have a shine like gold, and its mane and tail are silver white. Now the animal is before the house, but the woman does not faint or cry at the blood splash on the saddle, for—is it the dust-cloud that takes that shape?—she sees on its back a boy with a shining face, who throws a kiss at her,—her Paul. He, little poet, lives in spirit, and has found happiness.
There were once three sisters spinning flax, and they said, “Whosever spindle falls, let us kill her and eat her.”The mother’s spindle fell, and they left her alone.Again they sat down to spin, and again the mother’s spindle fell, and again and yet again.“Ah, well!” said they, “let us eat her now!”“No!” said the youngest, “do not eat her; eat me, if flesh you will have.”But they would not; and two of them killed their mother and cooked her for eating.When they had sat down to make a meal of her, they said to the youngest, “Come and eat too!”But she refused, and sat down on a saddle which the fowls were covering with filth, and wept, and upbraided them.Many a time they said to her, “Come and eat!” but she would not; and when they had done eating, they all went away.Then the youngest, whom they called Little Saddleslut, gathered all the bones together and buried them underneath the grate, and smoked them every day with incense for forty days; and after the forty days were out, she went to take them away and put them in another place. And when she lifted up the stone, she was astonished at the rays of light which it sent forth, and raiment was found there, like unto the heavens and the stars, the spring with its flowers, the sea with its waves; and many coins of every kind; and she left them where she found them.Afterwards her sisters came and found her sitting on the saddle, and jeered at her. On Sunday her sisters went to church; then she, too, arose; she washed and attired herself, putting on the garment that was as the heavens with the stars, and went to church, taking with her a few gold pieces in her purse. When she went into the church all the people were amazed, and could not gaze upon her by reason of the brightness of her garments. When she left the church, the people followed her to see whither she went. Then she filled her hand with money from her bag and cast it in the way, and so she kept throwing it down all the way she went, so that they might not get near her. Then the crowd scrambled for the coins, and left her alone. And straightway she went into her house, and changed her clothes, and put on her old things, and sat down upon the saddle.Her sisters came home from church and said to her, “Where are you, wretch? Come and let us tell you how there came into the church a maiden more glorious than the sun, who had such garments on as you could not look on, so brightly did they gleam and shine, and she strewed money on the way! Look, see what a lot we have picked up! Why did not you come too? Worse luck to you!”“You are welcome to what you picked up; I don’t want it,” said she.Next Sunday they went to church again, and she did the same. Then they went another Sunday, and just as she was flinging the money, she lost her shoe among the crowd, and left it behind her.Now the king’s son was following her, but could not catch her, and only found her shoe. Then said he to himself, “Whose ever foot this shoe exactly fits, without being either too large or too small, I will take her for my wife.”And he went to all the women he knew and tried it on, but could not manage to fit it. Then her sisters came to her and spoke as follows to her, “You go and try; perhaps it will fit you!”“Get away with you!” said she. “Do you think he will put the shoe on me, and get it covered with filth? Do not make fun of me.”The prince had taken all the houses in turn, and so he came at length to the house of Little Saddleslut, and his servants told her to come and try on the shoe.“Do not make fun of me,” she says.However she went down, and when the prince saw her, he knew the shoe was hers, and said to her, “Do you try on the shoe.”And with the greatest ease she put it on, and it fitted her.Then said the prince to her, “I will take you to wife.”“Do not make fun of me,” she answered, “so may your youth be happy!”“Nay, but I will marry you,” said he, and he took her and made her his wife.Then she put on her fairest robes. When a little child was born to her, the sisters came to see it. And when she was helpless and alone they took her and put her into a chest, and carried her off and threw her into a river, and the river cast her forth upon a desert.So the princess was left alone, and heard the wolves howling, and the swine and the lions, and she sat and wept and prayed to God, “Oh God, give me a little hole in the ground that I may hide my head in it, and not hear the wild beasts,” and he gave her one.Again she said, “Oh God, give me one a little larger, that I may get in up to my waist.”And he gave her one. And she besought him again a third time, and he gave her a cabin with all that she wanted in it; and there she dwelt, and whatever she said, her bidding was done forthwith.For instance, when she wanted to eat, she would say, “Come, table with all that is wanted! Come food! Come spoons and forks, and all things needful,” and straightway they all got ready, and when she finished the would ask, “Are you all there?” and they would answer, “We are.”One day the prince came into the wilderness to hunt, and seeing the cabin he went to find out who was inside; and when he got there he knocked at the door.And she saw him and knew him from afar, and said, “Who is knocking at the door?”“It is I, let me in,” said he.“Open, doors!” said she, and in a twinkling the doors opened and he entered. He went upstairs and found her seated on a chair.“Good day to you,” said he.“Welcome!” said she, and straightway all that was in the room cried out, “Welcome!”“Come chair!” she cried, and one came at once.“Sit down,” she said to him and down he sat. And when she had asked him the reason of his coming, she bade him stay and dine, and afterwards depart.He agreed, and straightway she gave her orders: “Come table with all the covers,” and forthwith they presented themselves, and he was sore amazed.“Come basin,” she cried. “Come jug, pour water for us to wash! Come food in ten courses!” and immediately all that she ordered made its appearance.Afterwards when the meal was ended, the prince tried to hide a spoon, and put it into his shoe; and when they rose from table, she said “Table, have you all your covers?”“Yes I have.” “Spoons, are you all there?”“All,” they said, except one which said “I am in the prince’s shoe.”Then she cried again, as though she had not heard, “Are you all there, spoons and forks?”And as soon as the prince heard her he got rid of it on the sly and blushed.And she said to him “Why did you blush? Don’t be afraid. I am your wife.”Then she told him how she got there and how she fared. And they hugged and kissed each other, and she ordered the house to move and it did move. And when they came near the town all the world came out to see them. Then the prince gave orders for his wife’s sisters to be brought before him, and they brought them and he hewed them in pieces. And so henceforward they lived happily, and may we live more happily still.{Note: You can read illustrated versions of other Cinderella stories from around the world in our collection Cinderella Tales: International Cinderella Stories and Fairy Tales, now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback}
There once lived a Munachar and a Manachar, a long time ago, and it is a long time since it was, and if they were alive now they would not be alive then. They went out together to pick raspberries, and as many as Munachar used to pick Manachar used to eat. Munachar said he must go look for a rod to make a gad to hang Manachar, who ate his raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. “What news today?” said the rod. “It is my own news that I’m seeking. Going looking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the rod, “until you get an axe to cut me.”He came to the axe. “What news today?” said the axe. “It’s my own newsI’m seeking. Going looking for an axe, an axe to cut a rod, a rod tomake a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the axe, “until you get a flag to edge me.” He came to the flag. “What news today?” says the flag. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” says the flag, “till you get water to wet me.” He came to the water. “What news today?” says the water. “It’s my own news that I’m seeking. Going looking for water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the water, “until you get a deer who will swim me.” He came to the deer. “What news today?” says the deer. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the deer, “until you get a hound who will hunt me.” He came to the hound. “What news today?” says the hound. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the hound, “until you get a bit of butter to put in my claw.” He came to the butter. “What news today?” says the butter. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the butter, “until you get a cat who shall scrape me.” He came to the cat. “What news today?” said the cat. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get me,” said the cat, “until you will get milk which you will give me.” He came to the cow. “What news today?” said the cow. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a cow, cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get any milk from me,” said the cow, “until you bring me a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder.” He came to the threshers. “What news today?” said the threshers. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a whisp of straw from ye to give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get any whisp of straw from us,” said the threshers, “until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller over yonder.” He came to the miller. “What news today?” said the miller. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for the makings of a cake which I will give to the threshers, the threshers to give me a whisp of straw, the whisp of straw I will give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”“You will not get any makings of a cake from me,” said the miller, “till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the river over there.”He took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but as often as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment he raised it the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he had been there from that day till this, he never could have filled it. A crow went flying by him, over his head. “Daub! daub!” said the crow.“My blessings on ye, then,” said Munachar, “but it’s the good advice you have,” and he took the red clay and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled, and then the sieve held the water, and he brought the water to the miller, and the miller gave him the makings of a cake, and he gave the makings of the cake to the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and when he had it ready to hang Manachar, he found that Manachar had burst!
The King of the Snakes lives in the ruins of a big tower between Nineveh and Babylon, and rules all the snake tribe, both on land and sea. Once the King’s son, who was viceroy of the province of Diarbekir, wrote a letter to his royal father, as follows:“Long live the King! May Heaven bestow upon you life everlasting. Amen. Be it known to you that your daughter-in-law and grandchildren were sick last summer, and the doctors advised that they must have a change of climate and must go to Mount Ararat and bathe in its pure streams, and eat its fragrant flowers, and this will immediately heal them. Consequently I sent her and the children, with their attendants, to Mount Ararat. I also wrote letters to the provincial viceroys and princes to assist the Princess and her train during their sojourn in that district. But the Prince of Aderbadagan, after receiving my letter, instead of giving help to the traveling Princess, collected his troops and assaulted her and her train. The attendants of the Princess met them bravely, and there, at the foot of Mount Ararat, occurred a bloody battle, which would doubtless have resulted in the total defeat of the Princess’ train, on account of the superior numbers of the enemy, if a human being, Simon the Shepherd, who was tending his flock in a neighboring field, had not come to the assistance of our fatigued combatants. He took his great club, and entering the ranks of the warriors, beat and killed and pursued the assaulting brigands of the Prince of Aderbadagan, and saved the life of your daughter-in-law, who thus came safely through this perilous journey. You see, my liege, that there is good even among men. I will punish the vile Prince of Aderbadagan for his wicked conduct; but it remains for you to reward the goodness of this noble human being as you deem best, and oblige your affectionate son.”The King of the Snakes, receiving this letter, took with him a vast quantity of gold and jewels, and went to his palace, in a ruined castle between Aleppo and Diarbekir. He posted his attendants on the highways to keep watch and inform him when Shepherd Simon should pass. The Shepherd was employed by dealers in live-stock, who did business with Damascus and Aleppo, and was now on his way to Aleppo. As soon as he approached the palace of the Snake King the watchers informed their sovereign, and in the twinkling of an eye the whole army of snakes stood near the highway and began to conjure. Simon the Shepherd felt a strange dizziness,—the heavens above and the earth below seemed to change. He stood there bewitched, while his companions drove away. Presently he opened his eyes, and lo! he was surrounded by innumerable snakes of all sizes and colors. Upon a golden throne was sitting a snake as thick as the body of an elephant, and upon his head there was a crown of costly jewels and diamonds. One of the snakes read a paper praising the goodness of the Shepherd, his natural fondness for the snake tribe, and his gallant defense of the weak and the wronged.“Now, noble human being,” said the King, “here is gold for you, precious jewels and diamonds; take as much as you like; and in addition to these, if you have a desire in your heart tell it to me and I will cause it to be satisfied.”Simon, after filling his shepherd’s bag and his pockets with gold and jewels, said:“I wish to understand the language of all animals, reptiles and birds.”“Let it be so,” said the King; “but the day on which you shall tell anything of what you have seen or heard, you shall die.”The spell was removed, the snakes vanished, and Simon the Shepherd returned to his home near the foot of Mount Ararat. On the way he heard the animals talking, and lo! they knew all the secrets of men, and foretold events that would happen. Sometimes he laughed at what he heard, and sometimes he was terrified so that his hair stood erect upon his head. He entered his native village, and lo! all the dogs, cats, chickens, and even the long-legged storks were hallooing to one another and saying:“Simon the Shepherd has come; his bag and pockets are full of gold and jewels.”Simon came to his house and put his treasure before his wife who, being a very curious woman, instantly asked him where and how he obtained so much wealth.“Enjoy it, but never ask,” answered Simon.Simon heard his dog and chickens talking in regard to the secrets of his house. Some times he laughed and sometimes he was angry. His wife, noticing Simon’s strange conduct towards the animals, asked the reason. He refused to tell, but she begged and importuned him, weeping all the time. Finally he could resist her entreaties no longer, and he promised to tell her everything on the following day. That evening he heard the dog talking to the cock, which was leading the chickens to roost, chuckling and gurgling:“Tell me, master rooster,” said the dog, “what is the use of your chuckling and gurgling, since our master has promised his wife to-morrow to tell her everything? He will die; people will come and kill you, shoot me, and plunder and ruin everything which belongs to our master.”“Eh! the sooner it is ruined the better,” answered the rooster, contemptuously. “I have a family of forty wives, who are all obedient to me; if our master was as wise as he is rich, he would not pay attention to the vain inquisitiveness of his wife; he himself would not die, and no harm would befall us or his house. But now he deserves death.”Hearing this, Simon was advised; he seized his great club, and stood before his wife, saying:“Wife, you must stop trying to compel me to tell you the secret; be content with what you have; else, by Heaven, I will beat you to death!”The woman, seeing the club brandished over her head, put an end to her inquiries, and thereafter they enjoyed a happy life.
Two Devonshire serving-maids declared, as an excuse perhaps for spending more money than they ought upon finery, that the pixies were very kind to them, and would often drop silver for their pleasure into a bucket of fair water, which they placed for the accommodation of those little beings every night in the chimney-corner before they went to bed. Once, however, it was forgotten; and the pixies, finding themselves disappointed by an empty bucket, whisked upstairs to the maids’ bedroom, popped through the keyhole, and began, in a very audible tone, to exclaim against the laziness and neglect of the damsels.One of them, who lay awake and heard all this, jogged her fellow-servant, and proposed getting up immediately to repair the fault of omission; but the lazy girl, who liked not being disturbed out of a comfortable nap, pettishly declared “That, for her part, she would not stir out of bed to please all the pixies in Devonshire.” The good-humoured damsel, however, got up, filled the bucket, and was rewarded by a handful of silver pennies found in it the next morning. But, ere that time had arrived, what was her alarm, as she crept towards the bed, to hear all the elves in high and stern debate consulting as to what punishment should be inflicted on the lazy lass who would not stir for their pleasure.Some proposed “pinches, nips, and bobs,” others to spoil her new cherry-coloured bonnet and ribands. One talked of sending her the toothache, another of giving her a red nose, but this last was voted too severe and vindictive a punishment for a pretty young woman. So, tempering mercy with justice, the pixies were kind enough to let her off with a lame leg, which was so to continue only for seven years, and was alone to be cured by a certain herb, growing on Dartmoor, whose long and learned and very difficult name the elfin judge pronounced in a high and audible voice. It was a name of seven syllables, seven being also the number of years decreed for the chastisement.The good-natured maid, wishing to save her fellow-damsel so long a suffering, tried with might and main to bear in mind the name of this potent herb. She said it over and over again, tied a knot in her garter at every syllable, in order to assist her memory, and thought she had the word as sure as her own name, and very possibly felt much more anxious about retaining the one than the other. At length she dropped asleep, and did not wake till the morning. Now, whether her head might be like a sieve, that lets out as fast as it takes in, or whether the over-exertion to remember caused her to forget, cannot be determined, but certain it is when she opened her eyes, she knew nothing at all about the matter, excepting that Molly was to go lame on her right leg for seven long years, unless a herb with a strange name could be got to cure her. And lame she went for nearly the whole of that period.At length (it was about the end of the time) a merry, squint-eyed, queer-looking boy started up one fine summer day, just as she went to pluck a mushroom, and came tumbling, head over heels, towards her. He insisted on striking her leg with a plant which he held in his hand. From that moment she got well, and lame Molly, as a reward for her patience in suffering, became the best dancer in the whole town at the celebrated festivities of May-day on the green.
Ægir was the ruler of the ocean, and his home was deep down below the tossing waves, where the water is calm and still. There was his beautiful palace, in the wonderful coral caves; its walls all hung with bright-colored seaweeds, and the floor of white, sparkling coral sand. Such wonderful sea-plants grew all about, and still more wonderful creatures, some, which you could not tell from flowers, waving their pretty fringes in the water; some sitting fastened to the rocks and catching their food without moving, like the sponges; others darting about and chasing each other.“Deep in the wave is a coral grove,Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,That never are wet with falling dew,But in bright and changeful beauty shineFar down in the green and glassy brine.The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;From coral rocks the sea-plants liftTheir boughs where the tides and billows flow.The water is calm and still below,For the winds and waves are absent there,And the sands are bright as the stars that glowIn the motionless fields of upper air.”—Percival.In that ocean home lived the lovely mermaids, who sometimes came up above the waves to sit on the rocks and comb their long golden hair in the sunshine. They had heads and bodies like beautiful maidens, with fish-tails instead of feet.One day the gods in Asgard gave a feast, and Ægir was invited. He could not often leave home to visit Asgard, for he was always very busy with the ocean winds and tides and storms; but calling his daughters, the waves, he bade them keep the ocean quiet while he was away, and look after the ships at sea.Then Ægir went over Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, to Asgard, where they had such a gay party and such feasting that he was sorry when the time came to go home; but at last he said good-by to Father Odin and the rest of the Æsir. He thanked them all for the pleasure they had given him, saying, “If only I had a kettle that held enough mead for us all to drink, I would invite you to visit me.”Ægir was the ruler of the ocean, and his home was deep down below the tossing waves, where the water is calm and still. There was his beautiful palace, in the wonderful coral caves; its walls all hung with bright-colored seaweeds, and the floor of white, sparkling coral sand. Such wonderful sea-plants grew all about, and still more wonderful creatures, some, which you could not tell from flowers, waving their pretty fringes in the water; some sitting fastened to the rocks and catching their food without moving, like the sponges; others darting about and chasing each other.“Deep in the wave is a coral grove,Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove;Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue,That never are wet with falling dew,But in bright and changeful beauty shineFar down in the green and glassy brine.The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;From coral rocks the sea-plants liftTheir boughs where the tides and billows flow.The water is calm and still below,For the winds and waves are absent there,And the sands are bright as the stars that glowIn the motionless fields of upper air.”—Percival.In that ocean home lived the lovely mermaids, who sometimes came up above the waves to sit on the rocks and comb their long golden hair in the sunshine. They had heads and bodies like beautiful maidens, with fish-tails instead of feet.One day the gods in Asgard gave a feast, and Ægir was invited. He could not often leave home to visit Asgard, for he was always very busy with the ocean winds and tides and storms; but calling his daughters, the waves, he bade them keep the ocean quiet while he was away, and look after the ships at sea.Then Ægir went over Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, to Asgard, where they had such a gay party and such feasting that he was sorry when the time came to go home; but at last he said good-by to Father Odin and the rest of the Æsir. He thanked them all for the pleasure they had given him, saying, “If only I had a kettle that held enough mead for us all to drink, I would invite you to visit me.”{Note: Listen to this tale from Norse mythology plus the other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}Thor, who was always glad to hear about eating and drinking, said, “I know of a kettle a mile wide and a mile deep; I will fetch it for you!”Then Ægir was pleased, and set a day for them all to come to his great feast.So Thor took with him his brother, the brave Tyr, who knew best how to find the kettle; and together they started off in Thor’s thunder chariot, drawn by goats, on their way to Utgard, the home of the giants.When they reached that land of ice and snow, they soon found the house of Hymir, the giant who owned “Mile-deep,” as the big kettle was called. The gods were glad to find that the giant was not at home, and his wife, who was more gentle than most of her people, asked them to come in and rest, advising them to be ready to run when they should hear the giant coming, and to hide behind a row of kettles which hung from a beam at the back end of the hall. “For,” said she, “my husband may be very angry when he finds strangers here, and often the glance of his eye is so fierce that it kills!”At first the mighty Thor and brave Tyr were not willing to hide like cowards; but at last they agreed to the plan, upon the good wife promising to call them out as soon as she had told her husband about them.It was not long before they heard the heavy steps of Hymir, as he came striding into his icy home; and very lucky it was for Thor and Tyr that the giantess had told them to hide, for when the giant heard that two of the Æsir from Asgard were in his home, so fierce a flash shot from his eyes that it broke the beam from which the kettles hung, and they all fell broken on the floor except Mile-deep.After a while the giant grew quiet, and at last even began to be polite to his guests. He had been unlucky at his fishing that day, so he had to kill three of his oxen for supper. Thor being hungry, as usual, made Hymir quite angry by eating two whole oxen, so that, when they rose from the table the giant said, “If you keep on eating as much at every meal, as you have to-night, Thor, you will have to find your own food.”“Very well,” said Thor; “I will go fishing with you in the morning!”Next morning Thor set forth with the giant, and as they walked over the fields toward the sea, Thor cut off the head of one of the finest oxen, for bait. Of course you may know that Hymir was not pleased at this, but Thor said he should need the very best kind of bait, for he was hoping to catch the Midgard serpent, that dangerous monster who lived at the bottom of the ocean, coiled around the world, with his tail in his mouth.When they came to the shore where the boat was ready, each one took an oar, and they rowed out to deep water. Hymir was tired first, and called to Thor to stop. “We are far enough out!” he cried “This is my usual fishing-place, where I find the best whales. If we go farther the sea will be rougher, and we may run into the Midgard serpent.”As this was just what Thor wanted, he rowed all the harder, and did not stop until they were far out on the ocean; then he baited his hook with the ox’s head, and threw it overboard. Soon there came a fierce jerk on the line; it grew heavier and heavier, but Thor pulled with all his might. He tugged so hard that he broke through the bottom of the boat, and had to stand on the slippery rocks beneath.All this time the giant was looking on, wondering what was the matter, but when he saw the horrid head of the Midgard serpent rising above the waves, he was so frightened that he cut the line; and Thor, after trying so hard to rid the world of that dangerous monster, saw him fall back again under the water; even Miölnir, the magic hammer, which Thor hurled at the creature, was too late to hit him. And so the two fishermen had to turn back, and wade to the shore, carrying the broken boat and oars with them.The giant was proud to think he had been too quick for Thor, and after they reached the house he said to the thunder-god, “Since you think you are so strong, let us see you break this goblet; if you succeed, I will give you the big kettle.”This was just what Thor wanted; so he tightened his belt of strength, and threw the goblet with all his might against the wall; but instead of breaking the goblet he broke the wall.A second time he tried, but did no better. Then the giant’s wife whispered to Thor, “Throw it at his head!” And she sang in a low voice, as she turned her spinning-wheel,—“Hard the pillar, hard the stone,Harder yet the giant’s bone!Stones shall break and pillars fall,Hymir’s forehead breaks them all!”Yet again Thor threw the goblet, this time against the giant’s head, and it fell, broken in pieces.Then Tyr tried to lift the Mile-deep kettle, for he was in a hurry to leave this land of ice and snow; but he could not stir it from its place, and Thor had to help him, before they could get it out of the giant’s house.When Hymir saw the gods, whom he hated, carrying off his kettle, he called all his giant friends, and they started out in chase of the Æsir; but when Thor heard them coming he turned and saw their fierce, grinning faces glaring down at him from every rocky peak and iceberg.Then the mighty Thunderer raised Miölnir, the hammer, above his head, and hurled it among the giants, who became stiff and cold, all turned into giant rocks, that still stand by the shore.Ægir was very glad to get Mile-deep; so he set to work to make the mead in it, to get ready for the great feast, at the time of the flax harvest, when all the Æsir were coming from Asgard to visit him.Before the day came, all light and joy had gone from the sacred city, because the bright Baldur had been slain, and the homes of the gods were dark and lonely without him. So they were all glad to visit Ægir, to find cheer for their sadness.There was Father Odin, with his golden helmet, and Queen Frigga, wearing her crown of stars, golden-haired Sif, Freyja, with Brisingamen, the wonderful necklace, and all the noble company of the Æsir, all except mighty Thor, who had gone far away to the giant-land.As they all sat in Ægir’s beautiful ocean hall, drinking the sweet mead, and talking together, Loki came in and stood before them; but, finding he was not welcome, and no seat saved for him, he began saying ugly things to make them all angry, and at last he grew angry himself, and slew Ægir’s servant because they praised him. The Æsir drove him out from the hall, but once more he came in, and said such dreadful things that at last Frigga said, “Oh, if my son Baldur were only here, he would silence thy wicked tongue!”Then Loki turned to Frigga, and told her that he himself was the very one who had slain Baldur. He had no sooner spoken than a heavy peal of thunder shook the hall, and angry Thor strode in, waving his magic hammer. Seeing this, the coward Loki turned and fled, and Asgard was rid of him forever.Thor, who was always glad to hear about eating and drinking, said, “I know of a kettle a mile wide and a mile deep; I will fetch it for you!”Then Ægir was pleased, and set a day for them all to come to his great feast.So Thor took with him his brother, the brave Tyr, who knew best how to find the kettle; and together they started off in Thor’s thunder chariot, drawn by goats, on their way to Utgard, the home of the giants.When they reached that land of ice and snow, they soon found the house of Hymir, the giant who owned “Mile-deep,” as the big kettle was called. The gods were glad to find that the giant was not at home, and his wife, who was more gentle than most of her people, asked them to come in and rest, advising them to be ready to run when they should hear the giant coming, and to hide behind a row of kettles which hung from a beam at the back end of the hall. “For,” said she, “my husband may be very angry when he finds strangers here, and often the glance of his eye is so fierce that it kills!”At first the mighty Thor and brave Tyr were not willing to hide like cowards; but at last they agreed to the plan, upon the good wife promising to call them out as soon as she had told her husband about them.It was not long before they heard the heavy steps of Hymir, as he came striding into his icy home; and very lucky it was for Thor and Tyr that the giantess had told them to hide, for when the giant heard that two of the Æsir from Asgard were in his home, so fierce a flash shot from his eyes that it broke the beam from which the kettles hung, and they all fell broken on the floor except Mile-deep.After a while the giant grew quiet, and at last even began to be polite to his guests. He had been unlucky at his fishing that day, so he had to kill three of his oxen for supper. Thor being hungry, as usual, made Hymir quite angry by eating two whole oxen, so that, when they rose from the table the giant said, “If you keep on eating as much at every meal, as you have to-night, Thor, you will have to find your own food.”“Very well,” said Thor; “I will go fishing with you in the morning!”Next morning Thor set forth with the giant, and as they walked over the fields toward the sea, Thor cut off the head of one of the finest oxen, for bait. Of course you may know that Hymir was not pleased at this, but Thor said he should need the very best kind of bait, for he was hoping to catch the Midgard serpent, that dangerous monster who lived at the bottom of the ocean, coiled around the world, with his tail in his mouth.When they came to the shore where the boat was ready, each one took an oar, and they rowed out to deep water. Hymir was tired first, and called to Thor to stop. “We are far enough out!” he cried “This is my usual fishing-place, where I find the best whales. If we go farther the sea will be rougher, and we may run into the Midgard serpent.”As this was just what Thor wanted, he rowed all the harder, and did not stop until they were far out on the ocean; then he baited his hook with the ox’s head, and threw it overboard. Soon there came a fierce jerk on the line; it grew heavier and heavier, but Thor pulled with all his might. He tugged so hard that he broke through the bottom of the boat, and had to stand on the slippery rocks beneath.All this time the giant was looking on, wondering what was the matter, but when he saw the horrid head of the Midgard serpent rising above the waves, he was so frightened that he cut the line; and Thor, after trying so hard to rid the world of that dangerous monster, saw him fall back again under the water; even Miölnir, the magic hammer, which Thor hurled at the creature, was too late to hit him. And so the two fishermen had to turn back, and wade to the shore, carrying the broken boat and oars with them.The giant was proud to think he had been too quick for Thor, and after they reached the house he said to the thunder-god, “Since you think you are so strong, let us see you break this goblet; if you succeed, I will give you the big kettle.”This was just what Thor wanted; so he tightened his belt of strength, and threw the goblet with all his might against the wall; but instead of breaking the goblet he broke the wall.A second time he tried, but did no better. Then the giant’s wife whispered to Thor, “Throw it at his head!” And she sang in a low voice, as she turned her spinning-wheel,—“Hard the pillar, hard the stone,Harder yet the giant’s bone!Stones shall break and pillars fall,Hymir’s forehead breaks them all!”Yet again Thor threw the goblet, this time against the giant’s head, and it fell, broken in pieces.Then Tyr tried to lift the Mile-deep kettle, for he was in a hurry to leave this land of ice and snow; but he could not stir it from its place, and Thor had to help him, before they could get it out of the giant’s house.When Hymir saw the gods, whom he hated, carrying off his kettle, he called all his giant friends, and they started out in chase of the Æsir; but when Thor heard them coming he turned and saw their fierce, grinning faces glaring down at him from every rocky peak and iceberg.Then the mighty Thunderer raised Miölnir, the hammer, above his head, and hurled it among the giants, who became stiff and cold, all turned into giant rocks, that still stand by the shore.Ægir was very glad to get Mile-deep; so he set to work to make the mead in it, to get ready for the great feast, at the time of the flax harvest, when all the Æsir were coming from Asgard to visit him.Before the day came, all light and joy had gone from the sacred city, because the bright Baldur had been slain, and the homes of the gods were dark and lonely without him. So they were all glad to visit Ægir, to find cheer for their sadness.There was Father Odin, with his golden helmet, and Queen Frigga, wearing her crown of stars, golden-haired Sif, Freyja, with Brisingamen, the wonderful necklace, and all the noble company of the Æsir, all except mighty Thor, who had gone far away to the giant-land.As they all sat in Ægir’s beautiful ocean hall, drinking the sweet mead, and talking together, Loki came in and stood before them; but, finding he was not welcome, and no seat saved for him, he began saying ugly things to make them all angry, and at last he grew angry himself, and slew Ægir’s servant because they praised him. The Æsir drove him out from the hall, but once more he came in, and said such dreadful things that at last Frigga said, “Oh, if my son Baldur were only here, he would silence thy wicked tongue!”Then Loki turned to Frigga, and told her that he himself was the very one who had slain Baldur. He had no sooner spoken than a heavy peal of thunder shook the hall, and angry Thor strode in, waving his magic hammer. Seeing this, the coward Loki turned and fled, and Asgard was rid of him forever.
Once upon a time a horse’s skull lay on the open plain. It had been picked clean by the ants, and shone white in the sunlight.Little Burrowing Mouse came along, twirling his whiskers and looking at the world. He saw the white skull, and thought it was as good as a palace. He stood up in front of it and called out,—“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”No one answered, for there was no one inside.“I will live there myself,” says little Burrowing Mouse, and in he went, and set up house in the horse’s skull.Croaking Frog came along, a jump, three long strides, and a jump again.“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”“I am Burrowing Mouse; who are you?”“I am Croaking Frog.”“Come in and make yourself at home.”So the frog went in, and they began to live, the two of them together.Hare Hide-in-the-Hill came running by.“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”“Burrowing Mouse and Croaking Frog. Who are you?”“I am Hare Hide-in-the-Hill.”“Come along in.”So the hare put his ears down and went in, and they began to live, the three of them together.Then the fox came running by.“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”“Burrowing Mouse and Croaking Frog and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill. Who are you?”“I am Fox Run-about-Everywhere.”“Come along in; we’ve room for you.”So the fox went in, and they began to live, the four of them together.Then the wolf came prowling by, and saw the skull.“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”“Burrowing Mouse, and Croaking Frog, and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill, and Fox Run-about-Everywhere. Who are you?”“I am Wolf Leap-out-of-the-Bushes.”“Come in then.”So the wolf went in, and they began to live, the five of them together.And then there came along the Bear. He was very slow and very heavy.“Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?”“Burrowing Mouse, and Croaking Frog, and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill, and Fox Run-about-Everywhere, and Wolf Leap-out-of-the-Bushes. Who are you?”“I am Bear Squash-the-Lot.”And the Bear sat down on the horse’s skull, and squashed the whole lot of them.The way to tell that story is to make one hand the skull, and the fingers and thumb of the other hand the animals that go in one by one. At least that was the way old Peter told it; and when it came to the end, and the Bear came along, why, the Bear was old Peter himself, who squashed both little hands, and Vanya or Maroosia, whichever it was, all together in one big hug.
In the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del Granduca, runs a little cross street called Porta Rosa. In this street, just in front of the market place where vegetables are sold, stands a pig, made of brass and curiously formed. The color has been changed by age to dark green, but clear, fresh water pours from the snout, which shines as if it had been polished—and so indeed it has, for hundreds of poor people and children seize it in their hands as they place their mouths close to the mouth of the animal to drink. It is quite a picture to see a half-naked boy clasping the well-formed creature by the head as he presses his rosy lips against its jaws. Every one who visits Florence can very quickly find the place; he has only to ask the first beggar he meets for the Metal Pig, and he will be told where it is.It was late on a winter evening. The mountains were covered with snow, but the moon shone brightly, and moonlight in Italy is as good as the light of gray winter’s day in the north. Indeed, it is better, for the clear air seems to raise us above the earth; while in the north a cold, gray, leaden sky appears to press us down to earth, even as the cold, damp earth shall one day press on us in the grave.In the garden of the grand duke’s palace, under the roof of one of the wings, where a thousand roses bloom in winter, a little ragged boy had been sitting the whole day long. The boy might serve as a type of Italy: lovely and smiling, and yet suffering. He was hungry and thirsty, but no one gave him anything; and when it became dark and they were about to close the gardens, the porter turned him out. A long time he stood musing on the bridge which crosses the Arno and looking at the glittering stars that were reflected in the water which flowed between him and the wonderful marble bridge Delia Trinità. He then walked away towards the Metal Pig, half knelt down, clasped it with his arms, and, putting his mouth to the shining snout, drank deep draughts of the fresh water. Close by lay a few salad leaves and two chestnuts, which were to serve for his supper. No one was in the street but himself. It belonged only to him. He boldly seated himself on the pig’s back, leaned forward so that his curly head could rest on the head of the animal, and, before he was aware, fell asleep.It was midnight. The Metal Pig raised himself gently, and the boy heard him say quite distinctly, “Hold tight, little boy, for I am going to run”; and away he started for a most wonderful ride. First they arrived at the Piazza del Granduca, and the metal horse which bears the duke’s statue neighed aloud. The painted coats of arms on the old council house shone like transparent pictures, and Michelangelo’s “David” swung his sling. It was as if everything had life. The metallic groups of figures, among which were “Perseus” and “The Rape of the Sabines,” looked like living persons, and cries of terror sounded from them all across the noble square. By the Palazzo degli Uffizi, in the arcade where the nobility assembled for the carnival, the Metal Pig stopped. “Hold fast,” said the animal, “hold fast, for I am going upstairs.”The little boy said not a word. He was half pleased and half afraid. They entered a long gallery, where the boy had been before. The walls were resplendent with paintings, and here and there stood statues and busts, all in a clear light as if it were day. The grandest sight appeared when the door of a side room opened. The little boy could remember what beautiful things he had seen there, but to-night everything shone in its brightest colors. Here stood the figure of a beautiful woman, as radiantly beautiful as nature and the art of one of the great masters could make her. Her graceful limbs appeared to move; dolphins sprang at her feet, and immortality shone from her eyes. The world called her the “Venus de’ Medici.” By her side were statues of stone, in which the spirit of life breathed; figures of men, one of whom whetted his sword and was named “The Grinder”; fighting gladiators, for whom the sword had been sharpened, and who strove for the goddess of beauty. The boy was dazzled by so much glitter, for the walls were gleaming with bright colors. Life and movement were in everything.As they passed from hall to hall, beauty showed itself in whatever they saw; and, as the Metal Pig went step by step from one picture to another, the little boy could see it all plainly. One glory eclipsed another; yet there was one picture that fixed itself on the little boy’s memory more especially, because of the happy children it represented; for these the little boy had seen in daylight. Many pass this picture with indifference, and yet it contains a treasure of poetic feeling. It represents Christ descending into Hades. It is not those who are lost that one sees, but the heathen of olden times.The Florentine, Angiolo Bronzino, painted this picture. Most beautiful is the expression on the faces of two children who appear to have full confidence that they shall reach heaven at last. They are embracing each other, and one little one stretches out his hand towards another who stands below them, and points to himself as if he were saying, “I am going to heaven.” The older people stand as if uncertain yet hopeful, and bow in humble adoration to the Lord Jesus. On this picture the boy’s eyes rested longer than on any other, and the Metal Pig stood still before it. A low sigh was heard. Did it come from the picture or from the animal? The boy raised his hands toward the smiling children, and then the pig ran off with him through the open vestibule.“Thank you, thank you, you beautiful animal,” said the little boy, caressing the Metal Pig as it ran down the steps.“Thanks to yourself also,” replied the Metal Pig. “I have helped you and you have helped me, for it is only when I have an innocent child on my back that I receive the power to run. Yes, as you see, I can even venture under the rays of the lamp in front of the picture of the Madonna, but I must not enter the church. Still, from without, and while you are upon my back, I may look in through the open door. Do not get down yet, for if you do, then I shall be lifeless, as you have seen me in the daytime in the Porta Rosa.”“I will stay with you, my dear creature,” said the little boy. So they went on at a rapid pace through the streets of Florence, till they came to the square before the church of Santa Croce. The folding doors flew open, and lights streamed from the altar, through the church, into the deserted square. A wonderful blaze of light streamed from one of the monuments in the left aisle, and a thousand moving stars formed a kind of glory round it. Even the coat of arms on the tombstone shone, and a red ladder on a blue field gleamed like fire. It was the grave of Galileo. The monument is unadorned, but the red ladder is an emblem of art—signifying that the way to glory leads up a shining ladder, on which the great prophets rise to heaven like Elijah of old. In the right aisle of the church every statue on the richly carved sarcophagi seemed endowed with life. Here stood Michelangelo; there Dante, with the laurel wreath around his brow; Alfieri and Machiavelli; for here, side by side, rest the great men, the pride of Italy.The church itself is very beautiful, even more beautiful than the marble cathedral at Florence, though not so large. It seemed as if the carved vestments stirred, and as if the marble figures which they covered raised their heads higher to gaze upon the brightly colored, glowing altar, where the white-robed boys swung the golden censers amid music and song; and the strong fragrance of incense filled the church and streamed forth into the square. The boy stretched out his hands toward the light, and at the same moment the Metal Pig started again, so rapidly that he was obliged to cling tightly to him. The wind whistled in his ears. He heard the church door creak on its hinges as it closed, and it seemed to him as if he had lost his senses; then a cold shudder passed over him, and he awoke.It was morning. The Metal Pig stood in its old place on the Porta Rosa, and the boy found that he had nearly slipped off its back. Fear and trembling came upon him as he thought of his mother. She had sent him out the day before to get some money, but he had not been able to get any, and now he was hungry and thirsty. Once more he clasped the neck of his metal steed, kissed its nose, and nodded farewell to it. Then he wandered away into one of the narrowest streets, where there was scarcely room for a loaded donkey to pass. A great iron-bound door stood ajar; and, passing through, he climbed a brick staircase with dirty walls, and a rope for balustrade, till he came to an open gallery hung with rags. From here a flight of steps led down to a court, where from a fountain water was drawn up by iron rollers to the different stories of the house. Many water buckets hung side by side. Sometimes the roller and the bucket danced in the air, splashing the water all over the court. Another broken-down staircase led from the gallery, and two Russian sailors running down it almost upset the poor boy. They were coming from their nightly carousal. A woman, not very young, with an unpleasant face and a quantity of black hair, followed them. “What have you brought home?” she asked when she saw the boy.“Don’t be angry,” he pleaded. “I received nothing, I have nothing at all”; and he seized his mother’s dress and would have kissed it. Then they went into a little room. I need not describe it, but only say that there stood in it an earthen pot with handles, made for holding fire, which in Italy is called a marito. This pot she took in her lap, warmed her fingers, and pushed the boy with her elbow.“Certainly you must have some money,” she said. The boy began to cry, and then she struck him till he cried aloud.“Be quiet, or I’ll break your screaming head.” She swung about the fire pot which she held in her hand, while the boy crouched to the earth and screamed. Then a neighbor came in, who also had a marito under her arm. “Felicita,” she said, “what are you doing to the child?”“The child is mine,” she answered; “I can murder him if I like, and you too, Giannina.”Then again she swung the fire pot about. The other woman lifted hers up to defend herself, and the two pots clashed so violently that they were dashed to pieces and fire and ashes flew about the room.The boy rushed out at the sight, sped across the courtyard, and fled from the house. The poor child ran till he was quite out of breath. At last he stopped at the church the doors of which were opened to him the night before, and went in. Here everything was bright, and the boy knelt down by the first tomb on his right hand, the grave of Michelangelo, and sobbed as if his heart would break. People came and went; the service went on, but no one noticed the boy except an elderly citizen, who stood still and looked at him for a moment and then went away like the rest. Hunger and thirst overpowered the child, and he became quite faint and ill. At last he crept into a corner behind the marble monuments and went to sleep. Towards evening he was awakened by a pull at his sleeve. He started up, and the same old citizen stood before him.“Are you ill? Where do you live? Have you been here all day?” were some of the questions asked by the old man. After hearing his answers, the old man took him to a small house in a back street close by. They entered a glovemaker’s shop, where a woman sat sewing busily. A little white poodle, so closely shaved that his pink skin could plainly be seen, frisked about the room and gamboled over the boy.“Innocent souls are soon intimate,” said the woman, as she caressed both the boy and the dog.These good people gave the child food and drink, and said he should stay with them all night, and that the next day the old man, who was called Giuseppe, would go and speak to his mother. A simple little bed was prepared for him, but to him who had so often slept on the hard stones it was a royal couch, and he slept sweetly and dreamed of the splendid pictures, and of the Metal Pig. Giuseppe went out the next morning, and the poor child was not glad to see him go, for he knew that the old man had gone to his mother, and that perhaps he would have to return. He wept at the thought, and then played with the lively little dog and kissed it, while the old woman looked kindly at him to encourage him.What news did Giuseppe bring back? At first the boy could not find out, for the old man talked to his wife, and she nodded and stroked the boy’s cheek. Then she said, “He is a good lad, he shall stay with us. He may become a clever glovemaker, like you. Look what delicate fingers he has. Madonna intended him for a glovemaker.”So the boy stayed with them, and the woman herself taught him to sew. He ate well, and slept well, and became very merry. But at last he began to tease Bellissima, as the little dog was called. This made the woman angry, and she scolded him and threatened him, which made him unhappy, and he went and sat in his own room, full of sad thoughts. This chamber looked out upon the street, in which hung skins to dry, and there were thick iron bars across his window. That night he lay awake, thinking of the Metal Pig. Indeed, it was always in his thoughts. Suddenly he fancied he heard feet outside going pitapat. He sprang out of bed and went to the window. Could it be the Metal Pig? But there was nothing to be seen. Whatever he had heard had passed already.“Go help the gentleman to carry his box of colors,” said the woman the next morning when their neighbor, the artist, passed by, carrying a paint box and a large roll of canvas. The boy instantly took the box and followed the painter. They walked on till they reached the picture gallery, and mounted the same staircase up which he had ridden that night on the Metal Pig. He remembered all the pictures and statues, especially the marble Venus, and again he looked at the Madonna with the Saviour and St. John. They stopped before the picture by Il Bronzino, in which Christ is represented as standing in the lower world, with the children smiling before him in the sweet expectation of entering heaven. The poor boy smiled, too, for here was his heaven.“You may go home now,” said the painter, while the boy stood watching him till he had set up his easel.“May I see you paint?” asked the boy. “May I see you put the picture on this white canvas?”“I am not going to paint,” replied the artist, bringing out a piece of chalk. His hand moved quickly, and his eye measured the great picture, and though nothing appeared but a faint line, the figure of the Saviour was as clearly visible as in the colored picture.“Why don’t you go?” said the painter. Then the boy wandered home silently, and seated himself on the table, and learned to sew gloves. But all day long his thoughts were in the picture gallery, and so he pricked his fingers and was awkward. But he did not tease Bellissima. When evening came, and the house door stood open, he slipped out. It was a bright, beautiful, starlight evening, but rather cold. Away he went through the already deserted streets, and soon came to the Metal Pig. He stooped down and kissed its shining nose, and then seated himself on its back.“You happy creature,” he said; “how I have longed for you! We must take a ride to-night.”But the Metal Pig lay motionless, while the fresh stream gushed forth from its mouth. The little boy still sat astride its back, when he felt something pulling at his clothes. He looked down, and there was Bellissima, little smooth-shaven Bellissima, barking as if she would have said, “Here I am, too. Why are you sitting there?”A fiery dragon could not have frightened the little boy so much as did the little dog in this place. Bellissima in the street and not dressed! as the old lady called it. What would be the end of this? The dog never went out in winter, unless she was attired in a little lambskin coat, which had been made for her. It was fastened round the little dog’s neck and body with red ribbons, and decorated with rosettes and little bells. The dog looked almost like a little kid when she was allowed to go out in winter and trot after her mistress. Now, here she was in the cold, and not dressed. Oh, how would it end? All his fancies were quickly put to flight; yet he kissed the Metal Pig once more, and then took Bellissima in his arms. The poor little thing trembled so with cold that the boy ran homeward as fast as he could.“What are you running away with there?” asked two of the police whom he met, and at whom the dog barked. “Where have you stolen that pretty dog?” they asked, and took it away from him.“Oh, I have not stolen it. Do give it back to me,” cried the boy, despairingly.“If you have not stolen it, you may say at home that they can send to the watch-house for the dog.” Then they told him where the watch-house was, and went away with Bellissima.Here was trouble indeed. The boy did not know whether he had better jump into the Arno or go home and confess everything. They would certainly kill him, he thought.“Well, I would gladly be killed,” he reasoned; “for then I should die and go to heaven.” And so he went home, almost hoping for death.The door was locked, and he could not reach the knocker. No one was in the street, so he took up a stone and with it made a tremendous noise at the door.“Who is there?” asked somebody from within.“It is I,” said he. “Bellissima is gone. Open the door, and then kill me.”Then, indeed, there was a great panic, for madam was so very fond of Bellissima. She immediately looked at the wall where the dog’s dress usually hung; and there was the little lambskin.“Bellissima in the watch-house!” she cried. “You bad boy! How did you entice her out? Poor little delicate thing, with those rough policemen! And she’ll be frozen with cold.”Giuseppe went off at once, while his wife lamented and the boy wept. Several of the neighbors came in, and among them the painter. He took the boy between his knees and questioned him. Soon he heard the whole story, told in broken sentences, and also about the Metal Pig and the wonderful ride to the picture gallery, which was certainly rather incomprehensible. The painter, however, consoled the little fellow, and tried to soften the woman’s anger, but she would not be pacified till her husband returned from the police with Bellissima. Then there was great rejoicing, and the painter caressed the boy and gave him a number of pictures.Oh, what beautiful pictures those were—figures with funny heads! And, best of all, the Metal Pig was there, too. Nothing could be more delightful! By means of a few strokes it was made to appear on the paper; and even the house that stood behind it had been sketched. Oh, if he could only draw and paint! He who could do this could conjure all the world before him. The first leisure moment during the next day the boy got a pencil, and on the back of one of the other drawings he attempted to copy the drawing of the Metal Pig, and he succeeded. Certainly it was rather crooked, rather up and down, one leg thick, and another thin. Still it was like the copy, and he was overjoyed at what he had done. The pencil would not go quite as it ought, he had found, but the next day he tried again. A second pig was drawn by the side of the first, and this looked a hundred times better. The third attempt was so good that everybody could see what it was meant to represent.And now the glovemaking went on but slowly. The orders given by the shops in the town were not finished quickly; for the Metal Pig had taught the boy that all objects may be drawn upon paper, and Florence is a picture book in itself for any one who chooses to turn over its pages. On the Piazza della Trinità stands a slender pillar, and upon it is the goddess of justice blindfolded, with her scales in her hand. She was soon represented on paper, and it was the glovemaker’s boy who placed her there. His collection of pictures increased, but as yet they were only copies of lifeless objects, when one day Bellissima came gamboling before him. “Stand still,” cried he, “and I will draw you beautifully, to put in my collection.”Bellissima would not stand still, so she must be bound fast in one position. He tied her head and tail, but she barked and jumped and so pulled and tightened the string that she was nearly strangled. And just then her mistress walked in.“You wicked boy! The poor little creature!” was all she could utter.She pushed the boy from her, thrust him away with her foot, called him a most ungrateful, good-for-nothing, wicked boy, and forbade him to enter her house again. Then she wept, and kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. At this moment the painter entered the room—and here is the turning point of the story.In the year 1834 there was an exhibition in the Academy of Arts at Florence. Two pictures, placed side by side, attracted many people. The smaller of the two represented a little boy sitting at a table drawing. Before him was a little white poodle, curiously shaven, but as the animal would not stand still, its head and tail had been fastened with a string, to keep it in one position. The truthfulness and life in this picture interested every one. The painter was said to be a young Florentine, who had been found in the streets when a child by an old glovemaker, who had brought him up. The boy had taught himself to draw. It was also said that a young artist, now famous, had discovered this talent in the child just as he was about to be sent away for having tied up madam’s favorite little dog to use as a model.The glovemaker’s boy had become a really great painter, as the picture proved; but the larger picture by its side was a still greater proof of his talent. It represented a handsome boy asleep, clothed in rags and leaning against the Metal Pig, in the street of the Porta Rosa. All the spectators knew the spot well. The child’s arms were round the neck of the Pig, and he was in a deep sleep. The lamp before the picture of the Madonna threw a strong light on the pale, delicate face of the child. It was a beautiful picture. A large gilt frame surrounded it, and on one corner of the frame a laurel wreath had been hung. But a black band, twined unseen among the green leaves, and a streamer of crape hung down from it; for within the last few days the young artist had—died.
One day Giufà went out to gather herbs, and it was night before he returned. On his way back the moon rose through the clouds, and Giufà sat down on a stone and watched the moon appear and disappear behind the clouds, and he exclaimed constantly: “It appears, it appears! it sets, it sets!”Now there were near the way some thieves, who were skinning a calf which they had stolen, and when they heard: “It appears, it sets!” they feared that the officers of justice were coming, so they ran away and left the meat. When Giufà saw the thieves running away, he went to see what it was and found the calf skinned. He took his knife and cut off flesh enough to fill his sack and went home. When he arrived there his mother asked him why he came so late. He said it was because he was bringing some meat which she was to sell the next day, and the money was to be kept for him. The next day his mother sent him into the country and sold the meat.In the evening Giufà returned and asked his mother: “Did you sell the meat?” “Yes, I sold it to the flies on credit.” “When will they give you the money?” “When they get it.” A week passed and the flies brought no money, so Giufà went to the judge and said to him: “Sir, I want justice. I sold the flies meat on credit and they have not come to pay me.” The judge said: “I pronounce this sentence on them: wherever you see them you may kill them.” Just then a fly lighted on the judge’s nose, and Giufà dealt it such a blow that he broke the judge’s head.
There was once a king who took great delight in hunting. One day he followed a stag a great distance into the forest. He went on and on until he lost his way. Night fell and the king by happy chance came upon a clearing where a charcoal-burner had a cottage. The king asked the charcoal-burner to lead him out of the forest and offered to pay him handsomely.“I’d be glad to go with you,” the charcoal-burner said, “but my wife is expecting the birth of a child and I cannot leave her. It is too late for you to start out alone. Won’t you spend the night here? Lie down on some hay in the garret and tomorrow I’ll be your guide.”The king had to accept this arrangement. He climbed into the garret and lay down on the floor. Soon afterwards a son was born to the charcoal-burner.At midnight the king noticed a strange light in the room below him. He peeped through a chink in the boards and saw the charcoal-burner asleep, his wife lying in a dead faint, and three old women, all in white, standing over the baby, each holding a lighted taper in her hand.The first old woman said: “My gift to this boy is that he shall encounter great dangers.”The second said: “My gift to him is that he shall go safely through them all, and live long.”The third one said: “And I give him for wife the baby daughter born this night to the king who lies upstairs on the straw.”The three old women blew out their tapers and all was quiet. They were the Fates.The king felt as though a sword had been thrust into his heart. He lay awake till morning trying to think out some plan by which he could thwart the will of the three old Fates.When day broke the child began to cry and the charcoal-burner woke up. Then he saw that his wife had died during the night.“Ah, my poor motherless child,” he cried, “what shall I do with you now?”“Give me the baby,” the king said. “I’ll see that he’s looked after properly and I’ll give you enough money to keep you the rest of your life.”The charcoal-burner was delighted with this offer and the king went away promising to send at once for the baby.A few days later when he reached his palace he was met with the joyful news that a beautiful little baby daughter had been born to him. He asked the time of her birth, and of course it was on the very night when he saw the Fates. Instead of being pleased at the safe arrival of the baby princess, the king frowned.Then he called one of his stewards and said to him: “Go into the forest in a direction that I shall tell you. You will find there a cottage where a charcoal-burner lives. Give him this money and get from him a little child. Take the child and on your way back drown it. Do as I say or I shall have you drowned.”The steward went, found the charcoal-burner, and took the child. He put it into a basket and carried it away. As he was crossing a broad river he dropped the basket into the water.“Goodnight to you, little son-in-law that nobody wanted!” the king said when he heard what the steward had done.He supposed of course that the baby was drowned. But it wasn’t. Its little basket floated in the water like a cradle, and the baby slept as if the river were singing it a lullaby. It floated down with the current past a fisherman’s cottage. The fisherman saw it, got into his boat, and went after it. When he found what the basket contained he was overjoyed. At once he carried the baby to his wife and said:“You have always wanted a little son and here you have one. The river has given him to us.”The fisherman’s wife was delighted and brought up the child as her own. They named him Plavachek, which means a little boy who has come floating on the water.The river flowed on and the days went by and Plavachek grew from a baby to a boy and then into a handsome youth, the handsomest by far in the whole countryside.One day the king happened to ride that way unattended. It was hot and he was thirsty. He beckoned to the fisherman to get him a drink of fresh water. Plavachek brought it to him. The king looked at the handsome youth in astonishment.“You have a fine lad,” he said to the fisherman. “Is he your own son?”“He is, yet he isn’t,” the fisherman answered. “Just twenty years ago a little baby in a basket floated down the river. We took him in and he has been ours ever since.”A mist rose before the king’s eyes and he went deathly pale, for he knew at once that Plavachek was the child that he had ordered drowned.Soon he recovered himself and jumping from his horse he said: “I need a messenger to send to my palace and I have no one with me. Could this youth go for me?”“Your majesty has but to command,” the fisherman said, “and Plavachek will go.”The king sat down and wrote a letter to the queen. This is what he said:“Have the young man who delivers this letter run through with a sword at once. He is a dangerous enemy. Let him be dispatched before I return. Such is my will.”He folded the letter, made it secure, and sealed it with his own signet.Plavachek took the letter and started out with it at once. He had to go through a deep forest where he missed the path and lost his way. He struggled on through underbrush and thicket until it began to grow dark. Then he met an old woman who said to him:“Where are you going, Plavachek?”“I’m carrying this letter to the king’s palace and I’ve lost my way. Can you put me on the right road, mother?”“You can’t get there today,” the old woman said. “It’s dark now. Spend the night with me. You won’t be with a stranger, for I’m your old godmother.”Plavachek allowed himself to be persuaded and presently he saw before him a pretty little house that seemed at that moment to have sprung out of the ground.During the night while Plavachek was asleep, the old woman took the letter out of his pocket and put in another that read as follows:“Have the young man who delivers this letter married to our daughter at once. He is my destined son-in-law. Let the wedding take place before I return. Such is my will.”The next day Plavachek delivered the letter and as soon as the queen read it, she gave orders at once for the wedding. Both she and her daughter were much taken with the handsome youth and gazed at him with tender eyes. As for Plavachek he fell instantly in love with the princess and was delighted to marry her.Some days after the wedding the king returned and when he heard what had happened he flew into a violent rage at the queen.“But,” protested the queen, “you yourself ordered me to have him married to our daughter before you came back. Here is your letter.”The king took the letter and examined it carefully. The handwriting, the seal, the paper—all were his own.He called his son-in-law and questioned him.Plavachek related how he had lost his way in the forest and spent the night with his godmother.“What does your godmother look like?” the king asked.Plavachek described her.From the description the king recognized her as the same old woman who had promised the princess to the charcoal-burner’s son twenty years before.He looked at Plavachek thoughtfully and at last he said:“What’s done can’t be undone. However, young man, you can’t expect to be my son-in-law for nothing. If you want my daughter you must bring me for dowry three of the golden hairs of old Grandfather Knowitall.”He thought to himself that this would be an impossible task and so would be a good way to get rid of an undesirable son-in-law.Plavachek took leave of his bride and started off. He didn’t know which way to go. Who would know? Everybody talked about old Grandfather Knowitall, but nobody seemed to know where to find him. Yet Plavachek had a Fate for a godmother, so it wasn’t likely that he would miss the right road.He traveled long and far, going over wooded hills and desert plains and crossing deep rivers. He came at last to a black sea.There he saw a boat and an old ferryman.“God bless you, old ferryman!” he said.“May God grant that prayer, young traveler! Where are you going?”“I’m going to old Grandfather Knowitall to get three of his golden hairs.”“Oho! I have long been hunting for just such a messenger as you! For twenty years I have been ferrying people across this black sea and nobody has come to relieve me. If you promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall when my work will end, I’ll ferry you over.”Plavachek promised and the boatman took him across.Plavachek traveled on until he came to a great city that was in a state of decay. Before the city he met an old man who had a staff in his hand, but even with the staff he could scarcely crawl along.“God bless you, old grandfather!” Plavachek said.“May God grant that prayer, handsome youth! Where are you going?”“I am going to old Grandfather Knowitall to get three of his golden hairs.”“Indeed! We have been waiting a long time for just such a messenger as you! I must lead you at once to the king.”So he took him to the king and the king said: “Ah, so you are going on an errand to Grandfather Knowitall! We have an apple-tree here that used to bear apples of youth. If any one ate one of those apples, no matter how aged he was, he’d become young again. But, alas, for twenty years now our tree has borne no fruit. If you promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall if there is any help for us, I will reward you handsomely.”Plavachek gave the king his promise and the king bid him godspeed.Plavachek traveled on until he reached another great city that was half in ruins. Not far from the city a man was burying his father, and tears as big as peas were rolling down his cheek.“God bless you, mournful grave-digger!” Plavachek said.“May God grant that prayer, kind traveler! Where are you going?”“I’m going to old Grandfather Knowitall to get three of his golden hairs.”“To Grandfather Knowitall! What a pity you didn’t come sooner! Our king has long been waiting for just such a messenger as you! I must lead you to him.”So he took Plavachek to the king and the king said to him: “So you’re going on an errand to Grandfather Knowitall. We have a well here that used to flow with the water of life. If any one drank of it, no matter how sick he was, he would get well. Nay, if he were already dead, this water, sprinkled upon him, would bring him back to life. But, alas, for twenty years now the well has gone dry. If you promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall if there is help for us, I will reward you handsomely.”Plavachek gave the king his promise and the king bid him godspeed.After that Plavachek traveled long and far into a black forest. Deep in the forest he came upon a broad green meadow full of beautiful flowers and in its midst a golden palace glittering as though it were on fire. This was the palace of Grandfather Knowitall.Plavachek entered and found nobody there but an old woman who sat spinning in a corner.“Welcome, Plavachek,” she said. “I am delighted to see you again.”He looked at the old woman and saw that she was his godmother with whom he had spent the night when he was carrying the letter to the palace.“What has brought you here, Plavachek?” she asked.“The king, godmother. He says I can’t be his son-in-law for nothing. I have to give a dowry. So he has sent me to old Grandfather Knowitall to get three of his golden hairs.”The old woman smiled and said: “Do you know who Grandfather Knowitall is? Why, he’s the bright Sun who goes everywhere and sees everything. I am his mother. In the morning he’s a little lad, at noon he’s a grown man, and in the evening an old grandfather. I will get you three of the golden hairs from his golden head, for I must not be a godmother for nothing! But, my lad, you mustn’t remain where you are. My son is kind, but if he comes home hungry he might want to roast you and eat you for his supper. There’s an empty tub over there and I’ll just cover you with it.”Plavachek begged his godmother to get from Grandfather Knowitall the answers for the three questions he had promised to ask.“I will,” said the old woman, “and do you listen carefully to what he says.”Suddenly there was the rushing sound of a mighty wind outside and the Sun, an old grandfather with a golden head, flew in by the western window. He sniffed the air suspiciously.“Phew! Phew!” he cried. “I smell human flesh! Have you any one here, mother?”“Star of the day, whom could I have here without your seeing him? The truth is you’ve been flying all day long over God’s world and your nose is filled with the smell of human flesh. That’s why you still smell it when you come home in the evening.”The old man said nothing more and sat down to his supper.After supper he laid his head on the old woman’s lap and fell sound asleep. The old woman pulled out a golden hair and threw it on the floor. It twanged like the string of a violin.“What is it, mother?” the old man said. “What is it?”“Nothing, my boy, nothing. I was asleep and had a wonderful dream.”“What did you dream about, mother?”“I dreamt about a city where they had a well of living water. If any one drank of it, no matter how sick he was, he would get well. Nay, if he were already dead, this water, sprinkled on him, would bring him back to life. For the last twenty years the well has gone dry. Is there anything to be done to make it flow again?”“Yes. There’s a frog sitting on the spring that feeds the well. Let them kill the frog and clean out the well and the water will flow as before.”When he fell asleep again the old woman pulled out another golden hair and threw it on the floor.“What is it, mother?”“Nothing, my boy, nothing. I was asleep again and I had a wonderful dream. I dreamt of a city where they had an apple-tree that bore apples of youth. If any one ate one of those apples, no matter how aged he was, he’d become young again. But for twenty years the tree has borne no fruit. Can anything be done about it?”“Yes. In the roots of the tree there is a snake that takes its strength. Let them kill the snake and transplant the tree. Then it will bear fruit as before.”He fell asleep again and the old woman pulled out a third golden hair.“Why won’t you let me sleep, mother?” he complained, and started to sit up.“Lie still, my boy, lie still. I didn’t intend to wake you, but a heavy sleep fell upon me and I had another wonderful dream. I dreamt of a boatman on the black sea. For twenty years he has been ferrying that boat and no one has offered to relieve him. When will he be relieved?”“Ah, but that boatman is the son of a stupid mother! Why doesn’t he thrust the oar into the hand of some one else and jump ashore himself? Then the other man would have to be ferryman in his place. But now let me be quiet. I must get up early tomorrow morning and go and dry the tears which the king’s daughter sheds every night for her husband, the charcoal-burner’s son, whom the king has sent to get three of my golden hairs.”In the morning there was again the rushing sound of a mighty wind outside and a beautiful golden child—no longer an old man—awoke on his mother’s lap. It was the glorious Sun. He bade his mother farewell and flew out by an eastern window.The old woman turned over the tub and said to Plavachek: “Here are the three golden hairs for you. You also have Grandfather Knowitall’s answers to your three questions. Now good-by. As you will need me no more, you will never see me again.”Plavachek thanked his godmother most gratefully and departed.When he reached the first city the king asked him what news he brought.“Good news!” Plavachek said. “Have the well cleaned out and kill the frog that sits on its spring. If you do this the water will flow again as it used to.”The king ordered this to be done at once and when he saw the water beginning to bubble up and flow again, he made Plavachek a present of twelve horses, white as swans, laden with as much gold and silver as they could carry.When Plavachek came to the second city and the king of that city asked him what news he brought, he said:“Good news! Have the apple tree dug up. At its roots you will find a snake. Kill the snake and replant the tree. Then it will bear fruit as it used to.”The king had this done at once and during the night the tree burst into bloom and bore great quantities of fruit. The king was delighted and made Plavachek a present of twelve horses, black as ravens, laden with as much riches as they could carry.Plavachek traveled on and when he came to the black sea, the boatman asked him had he the answer to his question.“Yes, I have,” said Plavachek, “but you must ferry me over before I tell you.”The boatman wanted to hear the answer at once, but Plavachek was firm. So the old man ferried him across with his twelve white horses and his twelve black horses.When Plavachek was safely landed, he said: “The next person who comes to be ferried over, thrust the oar into his hand and do you jump ashore. Then the other man will have to be boatman in your place.”Plavachek traveled home to the palace. The king could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw the three golden hairs of Grandfather Knowitall. The princess wept again, not for sorrow this time but for joy at her bridegroom’s return.“But, Plavachek,” the king gasped, “where did you get these beautiful horses and all these riches?”“I earned them,” said Plavachek proudly. Then he related how he helped one king who had a tree of the apples of youth and another king who had a well of the water of life.“Apples of youth! Water of life!” the king kept repeating softly to himself. “If I ate one of those apples I should become young again! If I were dead the water of life would restore me!”He lost no time in starting out in quest of the apples of youth and the water of life. And do you know, he hasn’t come back yet!So Plavachek, the charcoal-burner’s son, became the king’s son-in-law as the old Fate foretold.As for the king, well, I fear he’s still ferrying that boat across the black sea!
In Treneglwys there is a certain shepherd’s cot known by the name of Twt y Cymrws, because of the strange strife that occurred there. There once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whom the woman nursed tenderly. One day she was called away to the house of a neighbour at some distance. She did not much like going and leaving her little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially as she had heard tell of the good folk haunting the neighbourhood.Well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her way back she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoat crossing her path though it was midday. She rushed home, but found her two little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it was before.But after a time, the good people began to suspect that something was wrong, for the twins didn’t grow at all.The man said: “They’re not ours.”The woman said: “Whose else should they be?”And so arose the great strife so that the neighbours named the cottage after it. It made the woman very sad, so one evening she made up her mind to go and see the Wise Man of Llanidloes, for he knew everything and would advise her what to do.So she went to Llanidloes and told the case to the Wise Man. Now there was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the Wise Man said to her, “When you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out the shell of a hen’s egg and boil some potage in it, and then take it to the door as if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. Then listen if the twins say anything. If you hear them speaking of things beyond the understanding of children, go back and take them up and throw them into the waters of Lake Elvyn. But if you don’t hear anything remarkable, do them no injury.”So when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the Wise Man ordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off and carried it to the door, and there she stood and listened. Then she heard one of the children say to the other: Acorn before oak I knew,An egg before a hen,But I never heard of an eggshell brewA dinner for harvest men.So she went back into the house, seized the children and threw them into the Llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and saved their dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so the great strife ended.
SKAGÉDI lived on a hill and a man-eater lived at the foot of the same hill. The man-eater had a little kettle and a piece of chestnut. One day he scraped some of the chestnut into the kettle and taking a stick whipped the kettle till it was of the size he wanted and was full of chestnut pudding. Then he called for someone to come and eat with him.He began to sing and dance; when he reached the end of the house, he struck his mallet against a post, and sang, “If a man-eater comes, I will kill him.”SKAGÉDI heard the song and the call, and he thought “I am hungry, maybe I had better go down to that man’s house and get something to eat. He will not kill me, for I am not a man-eater. If he calls again, I will go.”‘ He stood waiting uncertain what to do.Soon the man-eater sang, “I wish SKAGÉDI would come and help me eat this pudding.”“Now is my time,” thought SKAGÉDI, “I will go.”He sang “HE-GĀH-YA” and jumped. Again he sang, “HE-GĀH-YA” and jumped; this was the way he traveled, he jumped by singing. At the first jump he went over the hill, then he said to himself, “This is too risksome; that man is dangerous.” Again he heard the song, “if a man-eater comes, I will kill him,” and he said, “I think I had better go home, he may kill me.”SKAGÉDI turned around, and singing, “HE-GĀH-YA” jumped, but he didn’t go where he wanted to. He came down near the man-eater’s house. Hearing the man-eater’s song he was frightened and singing in a whisper, “HE-GĀH-YA” he jumped, but again he didn’t go where he intended; he came down in front of the man-eater’s house–the man-eater’s song was drawing him there. He heard the mallet strike the wall, and singing, “HE-GĀH-YA” to get away he jumped and came down at the door. The man-eater opened the door and said, “Come in!”SKAGÉDI was terribly frightened; singing “HE-GĀH-YA” in a low whisper he jumped to get away, but he went straight into the house.“I am not going to kill you,” said the man-eater, “I want you to eat some of my pudding.”SKAGÉDI ate a good while, then stopped.“You must eat all of the pudding I have given you,” said the man-eater. “That is my rule.”SKAGÉDI ate more of the pudding and then wanted to stop, but the man-eater said, “Hurry, I must go away, eat quickly.”SKAGÉDI finished the pudding.“The next time I invite you,” said the man-eater, “if you start you must come, not start and try to turn back.”SKAGÉDI was so full of pudding that it was night before he got home; he could jump only a few feet at a time.The man-eater had always gone South to hunt for game, but now he went North. After a while he came to an opening in the forest, and, in the middle of the opening, he saw a house.“I have never seen that house,” thought he. “I will go and find out who lives there.”In the house was a very old man. “Hello!” said the man-eater, “I have come to visit you.”“I have never seen you before,” said the old man.“No. What are you doing here?”“I have lived here always, I am a betting man.”“What game do you play?”“I play hide-and-seek, and bet heads.”“Oh, that is the way you bet! I am alone in the world, but I don’t want to have my head cut off. Can I come to life afterwards?”“No, you will stay dead.”“Well, I will go and talk with my uncle about this. I will come back.”By his “uncle” the man-eater meant SKAGÉDI. He went home, made a pudding, struck the kettle twice and had enough for two, then he went to the post of the house, beat time on it with the mallet, and sang, “I want my uncle to come and help me eat this pudding.”SKAGÉDI heard the song and said to himself, “‘I am hungry ,I will go.” He sang “HE-GĀH-YA,” took a short jump and was outside of the door. Turning in the direction of the man-eater’s house he sang, “HE-GĀH-YA,” jumped and was down the hill. Then he listened and wondered if the man-eater really called him. Again he heard the song, then he said, “Oh, he means me!” He sang “HE-GĀH-YA,” jumped and was near the man-eater’s house. Then he heard the blows of the mallet and was so frightened that he sang “HE-GĀH-YA” in a whisper and jumped to get away, but he didn’t go as he wanted to; he came down at the door of the man-eater’s house.“Come in,” said the man-eater. “Yesterday I went toward the North. I had never been in that direction before, but I have killed everybody in the South so I thought would find out who lived in the North. I came to a house in an opening. In the house was a very old man, who said that he lived by betting. The man who loses the game loses his head also. He asked me to play. I told him I didn’t know the game, but I would ask you if you knew anything about it.”“I know the game,” said SKAGÉDI. “My father was a great player, but at last he lost his head.”“If you will help me,” said the man-eater. “I will help you. When you are hungry you can always come here and get something to eat; I will never harm you.”“I will tell you what to do,” said SKAGÉDI. “The old man will hide first and you will have three chances to find him. Begin inside the house, but for your last chance say, ‘I have found you, you are up behind the sun.’ Then it will be your turn to hide. Go under the back of the old man’s breech-clout. If he finds you it will be a tie. Then he will go in at one end of the log on the fire and out at one end of the house, I don’t know which end. That is your chance.”SKAGÉDI ate his pudding and went home.The next morning the man-eater hit the post and sang, “Now I must be strong and kill the old man who bets heads.”He went to the house in the opening and called out, “Hello, my friend!”The old man looked up, and said, “Oh, you have come again. Will you play a game with me?”“I will play.”“What do you do at home?”“Do you find enough game?”“Yes, I go in every direction and kill everybody I find.”“You kill animals?”“I do not, I kill men and witches.”“That is my way of living,” said the old man. “Now we will have a little sport. We will play hide-and-seek. If you find me and I find you it will be a tie, then we will have a foot-race, or we will pitch quoits to decide the game. I will hide first. Stand here and cover your head with a blanket, when I say Onen! throw off the blanket and hunt for me.”The man-eater waited a while, when he heard, far away, “Onen;” he took off the blanket and found himself alone. He hit the fire with a mallet, and said, “You are under the fire”–No answer. He waited, then called out, “You are up behind the sun.”The old man came down, and said, “Now it is your turn to hide,” and he threw the blanket over his own head.The man-eater made himself small, crawled under the old man’s breech-clout, then said, and his voice seemed far away, “Onen.”The old man looked everywhere. “You are behind that big star up there,” said he. No answer. He went out and around the house and finding a crack in the house struck it, and said, “You are in here.” No answer. Then he went into the house and taking his pipe, made of a wild-cat’s head, said, “I will smoke. Maybe the smoke will tell me where to find that man.”He drew a long whiff, the smoke went toward the corner of the house where the corn pounder was. The old man struck the pounder and called out, “You are in the pounder.” His three chances were gone.The man came from the back of the breech-clout. The old man felt him move, and clapping his hand to his thigh said, “You were here!”“That was sport. Let’s play again,” said the old man.“I have played long enough,” said the man-eater, and, catching the old man by the hair he cut off his head. Then he thought he would look around and see what the man had been doing.At the edge of the woods he found a great many bones. He stacked the bones up, then going to a tree gave it a push and called out, “Get up or the tree will fall on you!” Men sprang up and ran for their lives. All the people in the world heard the tree fall and knew that some one had killed the old man.The man-eater burned up the old man’s house and his body, then he carried the head home and put it up at the end of his house.The next morning he thought, “Now I will make a pudding for my uncle.”He scraped a little chestnut into a kettle, struck the kettle with a switch and straightway the kettle was large and was full of pudding. Then he struck the post with his mallet and sang for SKAGÉDI to come.SKAGÉDI heard the song, and said, “My nephew has killed the betting man.” He sang “HE-GĀH-YA” and with two jumps was at the house.“What luck did you have?” asked he.The man-eater showed the head, and said, “This is my luck!”“Well, nephew,” said SKAGÉDI, “that would have been your head if I hadn’t helped you.”“I know it, and I will always help you and give you a plenty to eat. Will I have more trouble if I go farther North?, Have you been in the North?”“I have been all over the world; two long jumps will take me anywhere. If you have trouble I will help you.”SKAGÉDI went home and the next morning the man-eater went North again. He passed the house he had burned and went on till he came to an opening and saw a woman standing on a log that was lying on the ground. The woman had great eyes and was looking around in every direction; if she saw anything, even a bird or a mouse, she called out, “I have caught you, I think you are a man?” When the man-eater saw her, he dodged behind a tree. if the bird or animal she called to were a man, her words made him take his own form, then she squeezed his heart and killed him.The man-eater had never seen such a woman. He thought, “That is a dangerous woman, I will go home,” and he crept away. The next morning he sang and danced and his steps shook the world and frightened everybody.SKAGÉDI said, “My nephew has come!”The man-eater cooked a bit of the chestnut he had stolen from people in the South and when he had switched the kettle and made it large, he said, “Now I will sing for my uncle. I want to ask him about the woman who stands on a log.”SKAGÉDI heard the song and, singing “HE-GĀH-YAH” he made a jump and was over the trees and down the hill. Then with a whispered song and a short jump he was in the man-eater’s house.While he was eating, his nephew said, “Off in the North there is a woman who stands on a log and says to every mouse or bird or living creature she sees, ‘I have caught you, I think you are a man.’ I have never seen such a Woman, I want to talk to her.”“I know that woman,” said SKAGÉDI. “She caught my brother. If she sees you first, she will catch you and squeeze your heart. If you are weak, she will kill you; if You are very strong you may come home, but you will be sick.”“I want to kill that woman,” said the man-eater.“Well,” said SKAGÉDI, “I will help you if you will promise to stop killing people. It is wrong to kill people and eat them.”“I was brought up on such flesh,” said the man-eater. “I couldn’t live on game as you do. I will try, but I don’t want to starve.”“You must come and eat of my kind of food,” said SKAGÉDI. He went home and cooked fat deer meat, then he sang, “The man-eater must come and eat! the man-eater must come and eat.”The man-eater heard the song and started. When he came into the house SKAGÉDI placed deer meat before him, and said, “You must eat it all, that is my rule.”He ate the meat and went home. For a time he was sick, then he felt better and was hungry. He tried to eat some of his own kind of meat but the first bite made him sick. He thought he would go and ask SKAGÉDI what he could do to get well. He was so weak that he was a long time getting to the house on the hill.SKAGÉDI said, “Try my meat,” and he gave him bear meat. He ate it and felt stronger.“I will come to-morrow and eat more of your kind of meat,” said he. “If it doesn’t make me sick, I will hunt deer and bears hereafter and let men alone.”The next morning he took a mouthful of his own food. It made him sick. “I will eat no more of this kind of meat,” said he, and he went to SKAGÉDI, and said, “Hereafter I will eat your kind of food. Now tell me about the woman.”SKAGÉDI said, “When you come to the opening you must call a mole, go inside of it and tell it to take you to the log. When the mole gets to the log, jump out and say to the woman, ‘I have caught you!'”The man-eater went home, took down the heads stuck up around the house and, pushing them along with a stick, for he was afraid of getting sick if he touched them, he got them far away from the place. Then he went off and killed a deer, came home, cleaned up his kettle, cooked the deer meat and ate it with relish.The next day the man-eater went to the opening and found the woman standing on the log watching for a fly, bird, a mouse or any living thing so that she could sing out, “I have caught you! I think you are a man.”He called a mole and told it to carry him under the ground and come up near where the woman stood. He made himself small, went into the mole and when it was right at the log, he sprang out and called, “I have caught you!” That minute he took hold of the woman’s heart and squeezed it. She screamed and begged him not to kill her.“You must go home,” said the man, “and on the way you must sing, ‘We will have a dance, we will have a dance!'”The woman started and as she traveled she sang, “We will have a dance.” Her sisters heard the song and said to one another, “Our sister has been beaten, she is sick.”The mother sent the youngest sister to tell an old medicine man to come and cure her daughter. He asked what the woman’s song was and when told he said, “You must notify all the people in the world and have a great dance for your sister.”The dance was called and food made ready. The woman came and danced, but all at once she fell to the ground and died.The man-eater saw a great many bones around the log where the woman had stood. After working a long time he got the bones into a pile, then going to a nearby tree he called out, “Get up or the tree will fall on you!”Men and women sprang up and started to run, but he called them back and sent them to their homes.SKAGÉDI’s father and mother and his brother were in the crowd, so was the man-eater’s wife. When SKAGÉDI saw his relatives he was glad.The man-eater never ate human flesh again.
As a punishment for having once upon a time used that foot against a venerable medicine man, Aggo Dah Gauda had one leg looped up to his thigh, so that he was obliged to get along by hopping. By dint of practice he had become very skillful in this exercise, and he could make leaps which seemed almost incredible.Aggo had a beautiful daughter, and his chief care was to secure her from being carried off by the king of the buffalos, who was the ruler of all the herds of that kind, and had them entirely at his command to make them do as he willed.Dah Gauda, too, was quite an important person in his own way, for he lived in great state, having a log house of his own, and a court-yard which extended from the sill of his front-door as many hundred miles westward as he chose to measure it.Although he might claim this extensive privilege of ground, he advised his daughter to keep within doors, and by no means to go far in the neighborhood, as she would otherwise be sure to be stolen away, as he was satisfied that the buffalo-king spent night and day lurking about and lying in wait to seize her.One sunshiny morning, when there were just two or three promising clouds rolling moistly about the sky, Aggo prepared to go out a-fishing; but before he left the lodge he reminded her of her strange and industrious lover, whom she had never seen.“My daughter,” said he, “I am going out to fish, and as the day will be a pleasant one, you must recollect that we have an enemy near, who is constantly going about with two eyes that never close, and do not expose yourself out of the lodge.”With this excellent advice, Aggo hopped off in high spirits; but he had scarcely reached the fishing-ground when he heard a voice singing, at a distance:Man with the leg tied up,Man with the leg tied up,Broken hip—hip—Hipped.Man with the leg tied up,Man with the leg tied up,Broken leg—leg—Legged.There was no one in sight, but Aggo heard the words quite plainly, and as he suspected the ditty to be the work of his enemies, the buffalos, he hopped home as fast as his one leg could carry him.Meantime, the daughter had no sooner been left alone in the lodge than she thought with herself:“It is hard to be thus forever kept in doors. But my father says it would be dangerous to venture abroad. I know what I will do. I will get on the top of the house, and there I can comb and dress my hair, and no one can harm me.”She accordingly ascended the roof and busied herself in untying and combing her beautiful hair; for it was truly beautiful, not only of a fine, glossy quality, but it was so very long that it hung over the eaves of the house and reached down on the ground, as she sat dressing it.She was wholly occupied in this employment, without a thought of danger, when, all of a sudden, the king of the buffalos came dashing on with his herd of followers, and making sure of her by means of her drooping tresses, he placed her upon the back of one of his favorite buffalos, and away he cantered over the plains. Plunging into a river that bounded his land, he bore her safely to his lodge on the other side.And now the buffalo-king having secured the beautiful person of Aggo Dah Gauda’s daughter, he set to work to make her heart his own—a little ceremony which it would have been, perhaps, wiser for his majesty, the king of the buffalos, to have attended to before, for he now worked to little purpose. Although he labored with great zeal to gain her affections, she sat pensive and disconsolate in the lodge, among the other females, and scarcely ever spoke, nor did she take the least interest in the affairs of the king’s household.To the king himself she paid no heed, and although he breathed forth to her every soft and gentle word he could think of, she sat still and motionless for all the world like one of the lowly bushes by the door of her father’s lodge, when the summer wind has died away.The king enjoined it upon the others in the lodge as a special edict, on pain of instant death, to give to Aggo’s daughter every thing that she wanted, and to be careful not to displease her. They set before her the choicest food. They gave her the seat of honor in the lodge. The king himself went out hunting to obtain the most dainty meats, both of animals and wild fowl, to pleasure her palate; and he treated her every morning to a ride upon one of the royal buffalos, who was so gentle in his motions as not even to disturb a single one of the tresses of the beautiful hair of Aggo’s daughter as she paced along.And not content with these proofs of his attachment, the king would sometimes fast from all food, and having thus purified his spirit and cleared his voice, he would take his Indian flute, and, sitting be fore the lodge, give vent to his feelings in pensive echoes, something after this fashion:My sweetheart,My sweetheart,Ah me!When I think of you,When I think of you,Ah me!What can I do, do, do?How I love you,How I love you,Ah me!Do not hate me,Do not hate me,Ah me!Speak—e’en berate me.When I think of you,Ah me!What can I do, do, do?In the mean time, Aggo Dah Gauda had reached home, and finding that his daughter had been stolen, his indignation was so thoroughly awakened that he would have forthwith torn every hair from his head, but, being entirely bald, this was out of the question, so, as an easy and natural vent to his feelings, Aggo hopped off half a mile in every direction. First he hopped east, then he hopped west, next he hopped north, and again he hopped south, all in search of his daughter; till the one leg was fairly tired out. Then he sat down in his lodge, and resting himself a little, he reflected, and then he vowed that his single leg should never know rest again until he had found his beautiful daughter and brought her home. For this purpose he immediately set out.Now that he proceeded more coolly, he could easily track the buffalo-king until he came to the banks of the river, where he saw that he had plunged in and swam over. There having been a frosty night or two since, the water was so covered with thin ice that Aggo could not venture upon it, even with one leg. He encamped hard by till it became more solid, and then crossed over and pursued the trail.As he went along he saw branches broken off and strewed behind, which guided him in his course; for these had been purposely cast along by the daughter. And the manner in which she had accomplished it was this. Her hair was all untied when she was caught up, and being very long it took hold of the branches as they darted along, and it was these twigs that she broke off as signs to her father.When Aggo came to the king’s lodge it was evening. Carefully approaching, he peeped through the sides, and saw his daughter sitting disconsolate. She immediately caught his eye, and knowing that it was her father come for her, she all at once appeared to relent in her heart, and, asking for the royal dipper, said to the king, “I will go and get you a drink of water.”This token of submission delighted his majesty, and, high in hope, he waited with impatience for her return.At last he went out, but nothing could be seen or heard of the captive daughter. Calling together his followers, they sallied forth upon the plains, and had not gone far when they espied by the light of the moon, which was shining roundly just over the edge of the prairie, Aggo Dah Gauda, his daughter in his arms, making all speed with his one leg toward the west.The buffalos being set on by their king, raised a great shout, and scampered off in pursuit. They thought to overtake Aggo in less than no time; but although he had a single leg only, it was in such fine condition to go, that to every pace of theirs, he hopped the length of a cedar-tree.But the buffalo-king was well assured that he would be able to overtake Aggo, hop as briskly as he might. It would be a mortal shame, thought the king, to be outstripped by a man with one leg tied up; so, shouting and cheering, and issuing orders on all sides, he set the swiftest of his herd upon the track, with strict commands to take Aggo dead or alive. And a curious sight it was to see.At one time a buffalo would gain handsomely upon Aggo, and be just at the point of laying hold of him, when off Aggo would hop, a good furlong, in an oblique line, wide out of his reach; which bringing him nearly in contact with another of the herd, away he would go again, just as far off in another direction.And in this way Aggo kept the whole company of the buffalos zig-zagging across the plain, with the poor king at their head, running to and fro, shouting among them and hurrying them about in the wildest way. It was an extraordinary road that Aggo was taking toward home; and after a time it so puzzled and bewildered the buffalos that they were driven half out of their wits, and they roared, and brandished their tails, and foamed, as if they would put out of countenance and frighten out of sight the old man in the moon, who was looking on all the time, just above the edge of the prairie.As for the king himself, losing at last all patience at the absurd idea of chasing a man with one leg all night long, he called his herd together, and fled, in disgust, toward the west, and never more appeared in all that part of the country.Aggo, relieved of his pursuers, hopped off a hundred steps in one, till he reached the stream, crossed it in a twinkling of the eye, and bore his daughter in triumph to his lodge.In the course of time Aggo’s beautiful daughter married a very worthy young warrior, who was neither a buffalo-king nor so much as the owner of any more of the buffalos than a splendid skin robe which he wore, with great effect, thrown over his shoulders, on his wedding-day. On which occasion, Aggo Dah Gauda hopped about on his one leg livelier than ever.
There was once upon a time a little baby whose father was Japanese ambassador to the court of China, and whose mother was a Chinese lady. While this child was still in its infancy the ambassador had to return to Japan. So he said to his wife, “I swear to remember you and to send you letters by the ambassador that shall succeed me; and as for our baby, I will despatch some one to fetch it as soon as it is weaned.” Thus saying he departed.Well, embassy after embassy came (and there was generally at least a year between each), but never a letter from the Japanese husband to the Chinese wife. At last, tired of waiting and of grieving, she took her boy by the hand, and sorrowfully leading him to the seashore, fastened round his neck a label bearing the words, “The Japanese ambassador’s child.” Then she flung him into the sea in the direction of the Japanese Archipelago, confident that the paternal tie was one which it was not possible to break, and that therefore father and child were sure to meet again.One day, when the former ambassador, the father, was riding by the beach of Naniwa (where afterward was built the city of Osaka), he saw something white floating out at sea, looking like a small island. It floated nearer, and he looked more attentively. There was no doubt about its being a child. Quite astonished, he stopped his horse and gazed again. The floating object drew nearer and nearer still. At last with perfect distinctness it was perceived to be a fair, pretty little boy, of about four years old, impelled onward by the waves.Still closer inspection showed that the boy rode bravely on the back of an enormous fish. When the strange rider had dismounted on the strand, the ambassador ordered his attendants to take the manly little fellow in their arms, when lo, and behold! there was the label round his neck, on which was written, “The Japanese ambassador’s child.” “Oh, yes,” he exclaimed, “it must be my child and no other, whom its mother, angry at having received no letters from me, must have thrown into the sea. Now, owing to the indissoluble bond tying together parents and children, he has reached me safely, riding upon a fish’s back.” The air of the little creature went to his heart, and he took and tended him most lovingly.To the care of the next embassy that went to the court of China, he intrusted a letter for his wife, in which he informed her of all the particulars; and she, who had quite believed the child to be dead, rejoiced at its marvellous escape.The child grew up to be a man, whose handwriting was beautiful. Having been saved by a fish, he was given the name of “Fishsave.”
A CROW caught in a snare prayed to Apollo to release him, making a vow to offer some frankincense at his shrine. But when rescued from his danger, he forgot his promise. Shortly afterwards, again caught in a snare, he passed by Apollo and made the same promise to offer frankincense to Mercury. Mercury soon appeared and said to him, “O thou most base fellow? how can I believe thee, who hast disowned and wronged thy former patron?’
The largest green leaf in this country is certainly the burdock. Put one in front of your waist, and it is just like an apron; or lay it upon your head, and it is almost as good as an umbrella, it is so broad.Burdock never grows singly; where you find one plant of the kind you may be sure that others grow in its immediate neighborhood. How magnificent they look!And all this magnificence is food for snails—the great white snails, which grand people in olden times used to have dished up as fricassees, and of which, when they had eaten, they would say, “H’m, how nice!” for they really fancied them delicious. These snails lived on burdock leaves, and that was why burdock was planted.Now there was an old estate where snails were no longer considered a delicacy. The snails had therefore died out, but the burdock still flourished. In all the alleys and in all the beds it had grown and grown, so that it could no longer be checked; the place had become a perfect forest of burdock.Here and there stood an apple or plum tree to serve as a kind of token that there had been once a garden, but everything, from one end of the garden to the other, was burdock, and beneath the shade of the burdock lived the last two of the ancient snails.They did not know themselves how old they were, but they well remembered the time when there were a great many of them, that they had descended from a family that came from foreign lands, and that this forest in which they lived had been planted for them and theirs. They had never been beyond the limits of the garden, but they knew that there was something outside their forest, called the castle, and that there one was boiled, and became black, and was then laid upon a silver dish—though what happened afterward they had never heard, nor could they exactly fancy how it felt to be cooked and laid on a silver dish. It was, no doubt, a fine thing, and exceedingly genteel.Neither the flying beetle nor the toad, nor the earthworm, all of whom they questioned on the matter, could give them the least information, for none of them had ever been cooked and served upon silver dishes.The old white snails were the grandest race in the world; of this they were well aware. The forest had grown for their sake, and the castle or manor house too had been built expressly that in it they might be cooked and served.Leading now a very quiet and happy life and having no children, they had adopted a little common snail, and had brought it up as their own child. But the little thing would not grow, for he was only a common snail, though his foster mother pretended to see a great improvement in him. She begged the father, since he could not perceive it, to feel the little snail’s shell, and to her great joy and his own, he found that his wife was right.One day it rained very hard. “Listen!” said the Father Snail; “hear what a drumming there is on the burdock leaves—rum-dum-dum, rum-dum-dum!”“There are drops, too,” said the Mother Snail; “they come trickling down the stalks. We shall presently find it very wet here. I’m glad we have such good houses, and that the youngster has his also. There has really been more done for us than for any other creatures. Every one must see that we are superior beings. We have houses from our very birth, and the burdock forest is planted on our account. I should like to know just how far it reaches, and what there is beyond.”“There is nothing better than what we have here,” said the Father Snail. “I wish for nothing beyond.”“And yet,” said the mother, “I should like to be taken to the castle, and boiled, and laid on a silver dish; that has been the destiny of all our ancestors, and we may be sure it is something quite out of the common way.”“The castle has perhaps fallen to ruin,” said the Father Snail, “or it may be overgrown with burdock, so that its inmates are unable to come out. There is no hurry about the matter. You are always in such a desperate hurry, and the youngster there begins to take after you. He’s been creeping up that stem yonder these three days. It makes me quite dizzy to look at him.”“But don’t scold him,” said the mother. “He creeps carefully. We old people have nothing else to live for, and he will be the joy of our old age. Have you thought how we can manage to find a wife for him? Do you not think that farther into the forest there may be others of our own species?”“I dare say there may be black snails,” said the old father, “black snails, without a house at all; and they are vulgar, though they think so much of themselves. But we can employ the black ants, who run about so much—hurrying to and fro as if they had all the business of the world on their hands. They will certainly be able to find a wife for our young gentleman.”“I know the fairest of the fair,” said one of the ants; “but I’m afraid it would not do, for she’s a queen.”“She’s none the worse for that,” said both the old snails. “Has she a house?”“She has a palace,” answered the ants; “the most splendid ant castle, with seven hundred galleries.”“Thank you!” said the Mother Snail. “Our boy shall not go to live in an ant hill. If you know of nothing better, we will employ the white gnats, who fly both in rain and sunshine and know all the ins and outs of the whole burdock forest.”“We have found a wife for him,” said the gnats. “A hundred paces from here there sits, on a gooseberry bush, a little snail with a house. She is all alone and is old enough to marry. It is only a hundred human steps from here.”“Then let her come to him,” said the old couple. “He has a whole forest of burdock, while she has only a bush.”So they went and brought the little maiden snail. It took eight days to perform the journey, but that only showed her high breeding, and that she was of good family.And then the wedding took place. Six glow-worms gave all the light they could, but in all other respects it was a very quiet affair. The old people could not bear the fatigue of frolic or festivity. The Mother Snail made a very touching little speech. The father was too much overcome to trust himself to say anything.They gave the young couple the entire burdock forest, saying what they had always said, namely, that it was the finest inheritance in the world, and that if they led an upright and honorable life, and if their family should increase, without doubt both themselves and their children would one day be taken to the manor castle and be boiled black and served as a fricassee in a silver dish.And after this the old couple crept into their houses and never came out again, but fell asleep. The young pair now ruled in the forest and had a numerous family. But when, as time went on, none of them were ever cooked or served on a silver dish, they concluded that the castle had fallen to ruin and that the world of human beings had died out; and as no one contradicted them, they must have been right.And the rain continued to fall upon the burdock leaves solely to entertain them with its drumming, and the sun shone to light the forest for their especial benefit, and very happy they were—they and the whole snail family—inexpressibly happy!
Once upon a time there was king who, one day out hunting, came upon a fakeer in a lonely place in the mountains. The fakeer was seated on a little old bedstead reading the Koran, with his patched cloak thrown over his shoulders.The king asked him what he was reading; and he said he was reading about Paradise, and praying that he might be worthy to enter there. Then they began to talk, and, by-and- bye, the king asked the fakeer if he could show him a glimpse of Paradise, for he found it very difficult to believe in what he could not see. The fakeer replied that he was asking a very difficult, and perhaps a very dangerous, thing; but that he would pray for him, and perhaps he might be able to do it; only he warned the king both against the dangers of his unbelief, and against the curiosity which prompted him to ask this thing. However, the king was not to be turned from his purpose, and he promised the fakeer always to provided him with food, if he, in return, would pray for him. To this the fakeer agreed, and so they parted.Time went on, and the king always sent the old fakeer his food according to his promise; but, whenever he sent to ask him when he was going to show him Paradise, the fakeer always replied: ‘Not yet, not yet!’After a year or two had passed by, the king heard one day that the fakeer was very ill– indeed, he was believed to be dying. Instantly he hurried off himself, and found that it was really true, and that the fakeer was even then breathing his last. There and then the king besought him to remember his promise, and to show him a glimpse of Paradise. The dying fakeer replied that if the king would come to his funeral, and, when the grave was filled in, and everyone else was gone away, he would come and lay his hand upon the grave, he would keep his word, and show him a glimpse of Paradise. At the same time he implored the king not to do this thing, but to be content to see Paradise when God called him there. Still the king’s curiosity was so aroused that he would not give way.Accordingly, after the fakeer was dead, and had been buried, he stayed behind when all the rest went away; and then, when he was quite alone, he stepped forward, and laid his hand upon the grave! Instantly the ground opened, and the astonished king, peeping in, saw a flight of rough steps, and, at the bottom of them, the fakeer sitting, just as he used to sit, on his rickety bedstead, reading the Koran!At first the king was so surprised and frightened that he could only stare; but the fakeer beckoned to him to come down, so, mustering up his courage, he boldly stepped down into the grave.The fakeer rose, and, making a sign to the king to follow, walked a few paces along a dark passage. Then he stopped, turned solemnly to his companion, and, with a movement of his hand, drew aside as it were a heavy curtain, and revealed–what? No one knows what was there shown to the king, nor did he ever tell anyone; but, when the fakeer at length dropped the curtain, and the king turned to leave the place, he had had his glimpse of Paradise! Trembling in every limb, he staggered back along the passage, and stumbled up the steps out of the tomb into the fresh air again.The dawn was breaking. It seemed odd to the king that he had been so long in the grave. It appeared but a few minutes ago that he had descended, passed along a few steps to the place where he had peeped beyond the veil, and returned again after perhaps five minutes of that wonderful view! And what WAS it he had seen? He racked his brains to remember, but he could not call to mind a single thing! How curious everything looked too! Why, his own city, which by now he was entering, seemed changed and strange to him! The sun was already up when he turned into the palace gate and entered the public durbar hall. It was full; and there upon the throne sat another king! The poor king, all bewildered, sat down and stared about him. Presently a chamberlain came across and asked him why he sat unbidden in the king’s presence. ‘But I am the king!’ he cried.‘What king?’ said the chamberlain.‘The true king of this country,’ said he indignantly.Then the chamberlain went away, and spoke to the king who sat on the throne, and the old king heard words like ‘mad,’ ‘age,’ ‘compassion.’ Then the king on the throne called him to come forward, and, as he went, he caught sight of himself reflected in the polished steel shield of the bodyguard, and started back in horror! He was old, decrepit, dirty, and ragged! His long white beard and locks were unkempt, and straggled all over his chest and shoulders. Only one sign of royalty remained to him, and that was the signet ring upon his right hand. He dragged it off with shaking fingers and held it up to the king.‘Tell me who I am,’ he cried; ‘there is my signet, who once sat where you sit–even yesterday!’The king looked at him compassionately, and examined the signet with curiosity. Then he commanded, and they brought out dusty records and archives of the kingdom, and old coins of previous reigns, and compared them faithfully. At last the king turned to the old man, and said: ‘Old man, such a king as this whose signet thou hast, reigned seven hundred years ago; but he is said to have disappeared, none know whither; where got you the ring?’Then the old man smote his breast, and cried out with a loud lamentation; for he understood that he, who was not content to wait patiently to see the Paradise of the faithful, had been judged already. And he turned and left the hall without a word, and went into the jungle, where he lived for twenty-five years a life of prayer and meditations, until at last the Angel of Death came to him, and mercifully released him, purged and purified through his punishment.
There was once a regular student, who lived in a garret and had no possessions. And there was also a regular huckster, to whom the house belonged, and who occupied the ground floor. A goblin lived with the huckster because at Christmas he always had a large dishful of jam, with a great piece of butter in the middle. The huckster could afford this, and therefore the goblin remained with him—which was very shrewd of the goblin.One evening the student came into the shop through the back door to buy candles and cheese for himself; he had no one to send, and therefore he came himself. He obtained what he wished, and then the huckster and his wife nodded good evening to him. The huckster’s wife was a woman who could do more than merely nod, for she usually had plenty to say for herself. The student nodded also, as he turned to leave, then suddenly stopped and began reading the piece of paper in which the cheese was wrapped. It was a leaf torn out of an old book; a book that ought not to have been torn up, for it was full of poetry.“Yonder lies some more of the same sort,” said the huckster. “I gave an old woman a few coffee berries for it; you shall have the rest for sixpence if you will.”“Indeed I will,” said the student. “Give me the book instead of the cheese; I can eat my bread and butter without cheese. It would be a sin to tear up a book like this. You are a clever man and a practical man, but you understand no more about poetry than that cask yonder.”This was a very rude speech, especially against the cask, but the huckster and the student both laughed, for it was only said in fun. The goblin, however, felt very angry that any man should venture to say such things to a huckster who was a householder and sold the best butter. As soon as it was night, the shop closed, and every one in bed except the student, the goblin stepped softly into the bedroom where the huckster’s wife slept, and took away her tongue, which of course she did not then want. Whatever object in the room he placed this tongue upon, immediately received voice and speech and was able to express its thoughts and feelings as readily as the lady herself could do. It could only be used by one object at a time, which was a good thing, as a number speaking at once would have caused great confusion. The goblin laid the tongue upon the cask, in which lay a quantity of old newspapers.“Is it really true,” he asked, “that you do not know what poetry is?”“Of course I know,” replied the cask. “Poetry is something that always stands in the corner of a newspaper and is sometimes cut out. And I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has, even if I am only a poor tub of the huckster’s.”Then the goblin placed the tongue on the coffee mill, and how it did go, to be sure! Then he put it on the butter-tub, and the cash-box, and they all expressed the same opinion as the waste-paper tub. A majority must always be respected.“Now I shall go and tell the student,” said the goblin. With these words he went quietly up the back stairs to the garret, where the student lived. The student’s candle was burning still, and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw that he was reading in the torn book which he had bought out of the shop. But how light the room was! From the book shot forth a ray of light which grew broad and full like the stem of a tree, from which bright rays spread upward and over the student’s head. Each leaf was fresh, and each flower was like a beautiful female head—some with dark and sparkling eyes and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars, and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined, much less seen or heard of, any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe, peeping in, till the light went out. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed, but the little goblin remained standing there, listening to the music which still sounded, soft and beautiful—a sweet cradle song for the student who had lain down to rest.“This is a wonderful place,” said the goblin; “I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student.” Then the little man thought it over, for he was a sensible sprite. At last he sighed, “But the student has no jam!” So he went downstairs again to the huckster’s shop, and it was a good thing he got back when he did, for the cask had almost worn out the lady’s tongue. He had given a description of all that he contained on one side, and was just about to turn himself over to the other side to describe what was there, when the goblin entered and restored the tongue to the lady. From that time forward, the whole shop, from the cash-box down to the pine-wood logs, formed their opinions from that of the cask. They all had such confidence in him and treated him with so much respect that when, in the evening, the huckster read the criticisms on theatricals and art, they fancied it must all come from the cask.After what he had seen, the goblin could no longer sit and listen quietly to the wisdom and understanding downstairs. As soon as the evening light glimmered in the garret, he took courage, for it seemed to him that the rays of light were strong cables, drawing him up and obliging him to go and peep through the keyhole. While there, a feeling of vastness came over him, such as we experience by the ever-moving sea when the storm breaks forth, and it brought tears into his eyes. He did not himself know why he wept, yet a kind of pleasant feeling mingled with his tears. “How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree!” But that was out of the question; he must be content to look through the keyhole and be thankful for even that.There he stood on the cold landing, with the autumn wind blowing down upon him through the trapdoor. It was very cold, but the little creature did not really feel it till the light in the garret went out and the tones of music died away. Then how he shivered and crept downstairs again to his warm corner, where he felt at home and comfortable! And when Christmas came again and brought the dish of jam and the great lump of butter, he liked the huckster best of all.Soon after, the goblin was waked in the middle of the night by a terrible noise and knocking against the window shutters and the house doors and by the sound of the watchman’s horn. A great fire had broken out, and the whole street seemed full of flames. Was it in their house or a neighbor’s? No one could tell, for terror had seized upon all. The huckster’s wife was so bewildered that she took her gold earrings out of her ears and put them in her pocket, that she might save something at least. The huckster ran to get his business papers, and the servant resolved to save her black silk mantle, which she had managed to buy. All wished to keep the best things they had. The goblin had the same wish, for with one spring he was upstairs in the student’s room. He found him standing by the open window and looking quite calmly at the fire, which was raging in the house of a neighbor opposite.The goblin caught up the wonderful book, which lay on the table, and popped it into his red cap, which he held tightly with both hands. The greatest treasure in the house was saved, and he ran away with it to the roof and seated himself on the chimney. The flames of the burning house opposite illuminated him as he sat with both hands pressed tightly over his cap, in which the treasure lay. It was then that he understood what feelings were really strongest in his heart and knew exactly which way they tended. Yet, when the fire was extinguished and the goblin again began to reflect, he hesitated, and said at last, “I must divide myself between the two; I cannot quite give up the huckster, because of the jam.”This is a representation of human nature. We are like the goblin; we all go to visit the huckster, “because of the jam.”
A king, with his wife and daughter, once made a pleasure trip upon the sea. When they had sailed some distance from the shore, a storm arose which drove the ship upon a foreign land, where both the king and his kingdom were quite unknown, and of which land they themselves had never before heard. Upon gaining the shore the king did not dare tell of his rank; and as he had no money, and was ignorant of any handicraft or other means by which he could support himself and his family, he was obliged to hire himself as a keeper of village cattle.After living some years in this way, the son of the king of the country fell in love with the herdsman’s daughter, who was now well grown and beautiful. The prince told his parents that he would never marry any other maiden than the daughter of the cattle-keeper of that village. Father, mother, and all the courtiers endeavoured to dissuade him from this course, saying, that for him, who could choose a partner from among imperial and royal princesses, to take the daughter of a herdsman for his wife would be a shame and a disgrace. But all in vain; the prince only replied,—“Either this maiden or none!”When they all saw that nothing else was to be done, one of the councillors was sent to the cattle-herd to tell him that the king had chosen his daughter to become the wife of his own son. The councillor made his way to the herd, and told him of the king’s decision; but the village cattle-keeper demanded of him, “What handicraft does the king’s son understand?”Upon which the messenger, disgusted, made answer,—“Heaven be with you, oh man! What should a prince know of a handicraft? People only learn handicrafts to support themselves by; but the king’s son possesses countries and cities.”But the cattle-herd simply replied,—“That may be; but unless he understands some handicraft I cannot give him my daughter.”Then went the councillor home again and told the king what the cattle-keeper had said; at which the whole court was perfectly astonished. People had believed that it would have been the herd’s greatest joy and pride that the king’s son should take his daughter to wife,—and here he was asking what trade the prince understood! The king sent a second councillor; but the cattle-herd made him the same answer:—“So long as the king’s son has not learnt a handicraft, and cannot bring to me some of his own work as a proof of his knowledge, he and I can never become closer friends.”When this councillor also returned and informed the king that the cattle-herd was not willing to give his daughter to the prince until he had learnt some handicraft, however simple it might be, the prince went himself forth to find out among the different workshops what trade would be the easiest to learn. As he went from shop to shop, and saw what the various masters worked at, he came upon one where work-people were busy plaiting rush-mats; and as that appeared to him to be the lightest of all handicrafts, he set about to learn it at once. And when in a few days he had learnt to work he plaited a rush-mat all by himself, which a messenger took to the cattle-herd and explained that the prince had already learnt a handicraft, and that the rush-mat was a piece of his own work.The cattle-herd took the mat in his hand, and looking at it on all sides, demanded,—”How much is this worth?”And they answered him,—“Four paras.”“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Good! Four paras to-day, four to-morrow, that makes eight, and four the day after to-morrow, that makes twelve, and so on. If I had understood this handicraft, I should not be tending cattle this day.”Then he told them who and what he was, and how he had come there. They were all delighted when they learnt that they had been wooing the daughter of a king and not of a cattle-herd; and the marriage of the youth and the maiden took place amid the greatest rejoicings. Then they gave to the father of the bride a ship and a guard of warriors, and he went over the sea and reached his own kingdom.
Once upon a time, a little cock and a little hen went to the Giant Mountains to hunt for strawberries. On the way, they agreed to divide equally all the fruit they found. The little hen was the first to find a big berry and calling the little cock according to their agreement, each ate his half.Then the little cock found a strawberry, not quite so luscious as the first, but most tempting, in fact so much so, that he said nothing about it to his little partner. Instead, he tried to gobble it down as fast as he could. But it stuck in his throat. He tried every means to get that berry down. He stretched out his neck, moved his head backwards and forwards, jumped up and dawn, shook himself, in fact tried every thing to make that berry go down. But there it stuck! He then began to show signs of great distress.The little hen happening to look up, wondered what he was up to and then ran to see. When she saw that he was choking, she became greatly frightened and looked in all directions for help. Suddenly she happened to think of the spring and away she flew to get a drop of his water.Trembling with excitement, she panted, “Dear spring, dear spring, give me a drop of your water for my little partner, the cock. He is choking to death. Hurry, hurry, dear spring.”But the spring coldly replied, “No, I will not give you a drop, unless you bring me a leaf from the linden tree”.So the little hen hurries off to the linden tree, of whom she begs a leaf, which she can give to the spring, who will give her a drop of water for the little cock.But lo, the linden tree has his bargain. “Yes, I will give you a leaf, but you must bring me a kerchief that the peasant woman is making.” So off to the peasant woman, the little hen flys.“Dear woman. I pray you, give me a kerchief which I can give to the linden tree, who will give me a leaf which I will give to the spring, who will give me a drop of water.”Again the woman made a demand. She said, “Unless you bring me some silk from the Queen of Saba, I will not give you the kerchief”.The little hen was pretty well tired by this time, but she did not despair. She felt quite sure that the good Queen would help her. “Dear Queen, pray let me have a bit of silk which the peasant woman says she must have. Then I will get the kerchief from the peasant woman to give it to the linden tree, who will give me a leaf for the spring, who will give me a drop of water, so that I can save the little cock.”The Queen was no there generous than the rest. “Yes I will give you some silk, for which you must bring a pair of beautiful shoes from the shoe maker.”The shoe maker was pegging away on a pair of shoes, when all at once he saw a little hen on his knees. “My, my”, he said in great surprise, “what do you want of me?”“Please Mr. Shoemaker, I want a pair of your beautiful shoes for the Queen of Saba. lf I can take them to her, she will give me a bit of silk for the peasant woman; she will let me have a kerchief for the linden tree; the linden tree will give me a leaf for the spring; the spring will give me a drop of water for the little cock.”He hesitated, but seeing such a wistful little hen, decided that he would help her. Then he said, “Yes. I will give you a beautiful pair of shoes, but you must get me a bristle from the pig”.Away she flew to the pig to ask him for a bristle. The pig was stubborn. Why should he give a bristle for nothing? “Yes, there is one condition on which I will give you a bristle, and that is, in exchange for some corn from the harvesters.” Then to the harvesters who listened to the little hen. “Yes, they will let her have some corn, but she must get them some real cream from the farmer’s wife.”Many people would have been discouraged after all these delays and conditions, but the little hen was unselfish and a persevering little body, so off she flew to the farmer’s wife. “Dear, dear Mrs. farmer. won’t you please give me some cream for the harvesters?” “Certainly, but you must first bring me a bag full of grass from the field.” This seemed almost impossible but the little hen was not then discouraged. She began to pluck the grass as fast as she could and, children, before you knew it, she had a bag full. Then she dragged it to the farmer’s wife and, oh joy, the farmer’s wife gave her the cream.The little hen carried the cream to the harvesters, who gave corn for the pig. In return, the pig gave her a bristle, which she took to the shoemaker, who kept his promise and let her have a pair of his most beautiful shoes for the Queen of Saba. The Queen gave the little hen a piece of silk for the peasant woman, who let her have the kerchief she had asked for. The linden tree took the kerchief in return for a leaf, which the little hen took to the spring and got the drop of water.When at last the drop of water was hers, she hurried to the place where she had left the little cock trying to swallow. He was at his last gasp, when she poured the little drop of water down his throat and saved him.Children, do you think that the little cock will ever again forget to keep his word?
There was once a baker who every morning loaded an ounceworth of bread on a horse that came to his shop. One day he said: “I give this ounceworth of bread to this horse and he renders me no account of it.” Then he said to his apprentice: “Vincenzo, the horse will come to-morrow and I will give him the bread, but you must follow him and see where he goes.”The next day the horse came and the baker loaded him, and gave the apprentice a piece of bread for himself. Vincenzo followed the horse, and after a while came to a river of milk, and began to eat bread and milk, and could not overtake the horse again. He then returned to his master, who, seeing him return to no purpose, said: “To-morrow the horse will come again; if you cannot tell me where he goes I will no longer have you for my apprentice.”The next day the apprentice followed the horse again, and came to a river of wine, and began to eat bread and wine, and lost sight of the horse. He returned to his master in despair at having lost the horse. His master said: “Listen. The first time, one pardons; the second time, one condones; the third time, one beats. If to-morrow you do not follow the horse I will give you a good thrashing and send you home.” What did poor Vincenzo do? He followed the horse the next day with his eyes open. After a while he came to a river of oil. “What shall I do? the horse will get away from me now!”So he tied the horse’s reins to his girdle and began to eat bread and oil. The horse pulled, but Vincenzo said: “When I finish the bread I will come.” When he had finished the bread he followed the horse, and after a time he came to a cattle-farm where the grass was long and thick and the cattle so thin that they could scarcely stand on their feet. Vincenzo was astonished at seeing the grass so long and the cattle so lean. Then he came to another farm, and saw that the grass was dry and short, and the cattle fatter than you can believe. He said to himself: “Just see! There, where the grass was long, the cattle were lean; here, where you can hardly see the grass, the cattle are so fat!”The horse kept on, and Vincenzo after him. After a while he met a sow with her tail full of large knots, and wondered why she had such a tail. Farther on he came to a watering-trough, where there was a toad trying to reach a crumb of bread, and could not. Vincenzo continued his way, and arrived at a large gate. The horse knocked at the gate with his head, and the door opened and a beautiful lady appeared, who said she was the Madonna. When she saw the youth she asked: “And what are you here for?” Vincenzo replied: “This horse comes constantly to my master’s to get an ounceworth of bread, and my master never has been able to find out where he carries it.”“Very well; enter,” said the lady; “I will show you where he carries it.” Then the lady began to call all the souls in purgatory: “My children, come hither!” The souls then descended; and to some she gave the worth of a grano of bread, to some the worth of a baiocco, and to others the worth of five grani, and the bread was gone in a moment. When the bread had disappeared, the lady said to Vincenzo: “Did you see nothing on your way?” “Yes, lady. The first day that my master sent me to see where the horse went, I saw a river of milk.”The lady said: “That is the milk I gave my son.” “The second day I saw a river of wine.” “That,” said the lady, “is the wine with which my son was consecrated.” “The third day I saw a river of oil.”“That is the oil that they ask of me and of my son. What else did you see the third day?” “I saw,” answered Vincenzo, “a farm with cattle. There was plenty of grass, but the cattle were lean. Afterwards I saw another farm, where you could scarcely see the grass, and the cattle were fine and fat.” “These, my son, are the rich, who are in the midst of wealth; and no matter how much they eat, it does no good; and the fat ones, that have no grass to eat, are the poor, for my son supports and fattens them. What else did you see?” “I saw a sow with her tail full of knots.”“That, my son, is those who repeat their rosaries and do not offer their prayers to me or to my son; and my son makes knots in them.” “I also saw a watering-trough, with a toad that was reaching after a crumb of bread, and could not get it.” She said: “A poor person asked a woman for a bit of bread, and she gave his hand such a blow that she made him drop it. And what else did you see, my son?” “Nothing, lady.”“Then come with me, and I will show you something else.” She took him by the hand and led him into hell. When the poor youth heard the clanking of chains and saw the darkness, he came near dying, and wanted to get out. “You see,” said the lady, “those who are lamenting and in chains and darkness are those who are in mortal sin. Now come, and I will take you to purgatory.”There they heard nothing, and the darkness was so great that they could see nothing. Vincenzo wished to depart, for he felt oppressed by anguish. “Now,” said the lady, “I will take you to the church of the Holy Fathers. Do you see it, my son? This is the church of the Holy Fathers, which first was full and now is empty. Come; now I will take you to limbo. Do you see these little ones? These are those who died unbaptized.” The lady wished to show him paradise; but he was too confused, so the lady made him look through a window. “Do you see this great palace? There are three seats there; one for you, one for your master, and one for your mistress.”After this she took him to the gate. The horse was no longer there. “Now,” said Vincenzo, “how shall I find my way back? I will follow the tracks of the horse, and so will get home.” The lady answered: “Close your eyes!” Vincenzo closed his eyes, and found himself behind his master’s door. When he entered he told all that had occurred to his master and mistress. When he had finished his story all three died and went to paradise.
When Shining-Eyes threw the Fire-that-never- goes-out into the sky it was only a flaming stick, but it grew rounder and wider and cooler, until at last it became a great Moon-land. It was a wonderland place. Everything gave out a golden light — mountains and lakes, rocks and trees and flowers, and even the walls and spires of a beautiful moon-palace that Marama had built. In the palace lived Marama, all alone. At first he had been so charmed with his fine new land that he had not noticed the loneliness, but after some time he began to say to himself: “Why have I no one to share my work and play? There is no pleasure in playing star-ball by myself, and I am tired of singing with no one to listen. Oh, for a companion!”He asked the Sky-fairies to live with him, but they refused; they had their stars to guard. He looked down on the earth. A beautiful girl with a calabash in her hand walked to a stream at the foot of a hill for water. A young man ran down the hill after her. “Ina! Ina! ” he called.  It was her old playmate, the friend she loved better than anybody else. She waited for him. They went to the stream together, and Marama watched the return. Several times the girl’s face was turned upwards to the moon; each time Marama thought it more beautiful. All next day he could think of nothing else.“She would never leave her old playmate and her home,” he thought, ” and yet she is the companion I desire. What a sweet friend she would be.” When night came again he watched for Ina. Down the hill she came as before, her calabash in her hand. Her playmate had not yet appeared; she awaited him. “I will go down! She shall return with me,” said Marama suddenly.In a flash he stood before her. At first his brightness dazzled her, but little by little she looked at him and saw that he was a stranger. “I am Marama,” he said. “I have come to ask you to live with me on the Moon. It is a beautiful life, and I will be kind to you. Come!”Ina drew back. “I cannot leave my parents and my home,” she said. “I should be most unhappy.”“You will soon forget them. On the Moon you will have other joys.”“But I do not want to forget them. And I have a friend. I will not come.”“Think how lonely I am up there,” urged Marama. “Ina, you will never grow old in the sky, for I will take you to bathe in Tane’s shining lake, which gives perpetual youth and beauty. Come with me.”“No,” said Ina, “no, no!” Marama flung his arm round her and lifted her from the ground. She screamed, caught a young palm-tree with her hands, and clung to it with all her strength. Gently but surely Marama lifted her, dragging the palm-tree out by the roots, and carried her up to his Moon-land.“Marama shows Ina the Moon-Land.” Unknown illustrator, published in Maoriland Fairy Tales by Edith Howes (1913), Ward, Lock and Co.“Plant the palm-tree here,” he said as he set her down. ” It will always remind you of your earth-home.” They planted the tree on the edge of the Moon, placing the calabash beside it. “Come and see your new home,” said Marama. He led her proudly over his palace and its gardens. She was dazed with her quick flight and the brightness all around her, but she could not help seeing the beauty of the Moon-land. Everything was new and strange. It took her many days and nights to learn to work and play as they worked and played in Sky-land; but Marama taught her gently, and they were soon the best of friends.She learnt to make fine curtains from the fleecy morning clouds, and to throw them across the sky till they hung like lace-work over the blue. In times of storm she rolled the thunder-clouds; morning and night she painted the domed sky-roof with crimson and purple and gold. She kept the inside of the Moon-palace as bright and beautiful as Marama kept the outside, for she grew to love her home.When the day was over came the time for play. Then Marama and Ina danced and sang, played with the stars, rode on the moonlit clouds, paid flying visits to Rangi or the fairies. Every month they bathed in Tane’s shining lake, so that they should never grow old, but should for ever remain young and gay and beautiful. But although Ina was so happy, and although she had learned to love Marama and her moon- home, she never forgot her old life, as Marama hoped she would. Deep in her heart lay the memory of her parents and her friend. Often when the earth lay lit beneath the Moon she would stand for hours under her palm-tree, trying to see the hill and her friends. Until she had bathed in Tane’s lake, she could not distinguish objects at such a great distance ; after that, however, she found that she could see perfectly. Now, when she looked down, she saw her old playmate travelling wearily over the land in search of her, while her mother sat in the doorway wailing for her lost child.  Full of pity for her sorrowing friends, Ina flew to Marama.“Marama,” she said,” my mother weeps for me, and my friend roams the country in search of me. Look on the earth and you will see their sadness.”Marama looked below. “If my old playmate could see how happy I am he would be pleased,” she went on. “Bring him here for a visit, Marama, that he may ease my mother’s heart on his return.” ” It is well said. I will bring him here,” said Marama.He flashed down to the earth, seized the young man in his arms, and carried him up to the Moon. Ina stood awaiting them. Astonishment and joy shone in her old friend’s eyes as he stared at her. Ina told him what had happened to her on that night when she disappeared from the hillside, and he told her how her friends had sorrowed for her ever since. Ina showed him the wonders of the Moon-land, and talked of her great happiness in living there. “I can never come back to the earth,” she said, “for I have bathed in Tank’s lake ; but you must not think I am unhappy here. Indeed, I would not return to the earth if I could, the pleasures of this life are so great. Stay with us for a little while that you may see what happiness is mine.”He stayed with them, and they taught him the work and the play of the sky. When it was time for him to return Ina said: “Tell my mother and my friends what you have seen, that they may not sorrow for me any longer.”She called the rainbow, charging it to carry her old playmate safely to the earth. The rainbow hung over the earth, Ina said farewell to her friend, and he slid down the shining bow to the hillside. When he told Ina’s mother of her daughter’s new life and great happiness, she dried her tears and rejoiced. As each night fell, and the Moon rose high in the sky, the earth-friends spoke of Ina and Marama and the wonders of their Moon-land home. Ina was satisfied. But she has never lost her love for her old earth-home. Even now, when the Moon is clear of clouds, you may see her gazing earthward, the tall palm-tree above her head, and the calabash at her feet. That is what you see if you look hard at the moon when it is at the full.
There was once on a time a widower who had a son and a daughter by his first wife. They were both good children, and loved each other with all their hearts. After some time had gone by the man married again, and he chose a widow with one daughter who was ugly and wicked, and her mother was ugly and wicked too. From the very day that the new wife came into the house there was no peace for the man’s children, and not a corner to be found where they could get any rest; so the boy thought that the best thing he could do was to go out into the world and try to earn his own bread.When he had roamed about for some time he came to the King’s palace, where he obtained a place under the coachman; and very brisk and active he was, and the horses that he looked after were so fat and sleek, that they shone again.But his sister, who was still at home, fared worse and worse. Both her step-mother and her step-sister were always finding fault with her, whatsoever she did and whithersoever she went, and they scolded her and abused her so that she never had an hour’s peace. They made her do all the hard work, and hard words fell to her lot early and late, but little enough food accompanied them.One day they sent her to the brook to fetch some water home, and an ugly and horrible head rose up out of the water, and said, `Wash me, girl!’`Yes, I will wash you with pleasure,’ said the girl, and began to wash and scrub the ugly face, but she couldn’t help thinking that it was a very unpleasant piece of work. When she had done it, and done it well, another head rose up out of the water, and this one was uglier still.`Brush me, girl!’ said the head.`Yes, I will brush you with pleasure,’ said the girl, and set to work with the tangled hair, and, as may be easily imagined, this too was by no means pleasant work.When she had got it done, another and a much more ugly and horrible-looking head rose up out of the water.`Kiss me, girl!’ said the head.`Yes, I will kiss you,” said the man’s daughter, and she did it, but she thought it was the worst bit of work that she had ever had to do in her life.So the heads all began to talk to each other, and to ask what they should do for this girl who was so full of kindliness.`She shall be the prettiest girl that ever was, and fair and bright as the day,’ said the first head.`Gold shall drop from her hair whenever she brushes it,’ said the second.`Gold shall drop from her mouth whenever she speaks,’ said the third head.So when the man’s daughter went home, looking as beautiful and bright as day, the step-mother and her daughter grew much more ill-tempered, and it was worse still when she began to talk, and they saw that golden coins dropped from her mouth. The step-mother fell into such a towering passion that she drove the man’s daughter into the pig-stye–she might stay there with her fine show of gold, the step-mother said, but she should not be permitted to set foot in the house.It was not long before the mother wanted her own daughter to go to the stream to fetch some water.When she got there with her pails, the first head rose up out of the water close to the bank. `Wash me, girl!’ it said.`Wash yourself!’ answered the woman’s daughter.Then the second head appeared.`Brush me, girl!’ said the head.`Brush yourself!’ said the woman’s daughter.So down it went to the bottom, and the third head came up.`Kiss me, girl!’ said the head.`As if I would kiss your ugly mouth!’ said the girl.So again the heads talked together about what they should do for this girl who was so ill-tempered and full of her own importance, and they agreed that she should have a nose that was four ells long, and a jaw that was three ells, and a fir bush in the middle of her forehead, and every time she spoke ashes should fall from her mouth.When she came back to the cottage door with her pails, she called to her mother who was inside, `Open the door!’`Open the door yourself, my own dear child!’ said the mother.`I can’t get near, because of my nose,’ said the daughter.When the mother came and saw her you may imagine what a state of mind she was in, and how she screamed and lamented, but neither the nose nor the jaw grew any the less for that.Now the brother, who was in service in the King’s palace, had taken a portrait of his sister, and he had carried the picture away with him, and every morning and evening he knelt down before it and prayed for his sister, so dearly did he love her.The other stable-boys had heard him doing this, so they peeped through the key-hole into his room, and saw that he was kneeling there before a picture; so they told everyone that every morning and evening the youth knelt down and prayed to an idol which he had; and at last they went to the King himself, and begged that he too would peep through the key-hole, and see for himself what the youth did. At first the King would not believe this, but after a long, long time, they prevailed with him, and he crept on tip-toe to the door, peeped through, and saw the youth on his knees, with his hands clasped together before a picture which was hanging on the wall.`Open the door!’ cried the King, but the youth did not hear.So the King called to him again, but the youth was praying so fervently that he did not hear him this time either.`Open the door, I say!’ cried the King again. `It is I! I want to come in.’So the youth sprang to the door and unlocked it, but in his haste he forgot to hide the picture.When the King entered and saw it, he stood still as if he were in fetters, and could not stir from the spot, for the picture seemed to him so beautiful.`There is nowhere on earth so beautiful a woman as this!’ said the King.But the youth told him that she was his sister, and that he had painted her, and that if she was not prettier than the picture she was at all events not uglier.`Well, if she is as beautiful as that, I will have her for my Queen,’ said the King, and he commanded the youth to go home and fetch her without a moment’s delay, and to lose no time in coming back. The youth promised to make all the haste he could, and set forth from the King’s palace.When the brother arrived at home to fetch his sister, her stepmother and step-sister would go too. So they all set out together, and the man’s daughter took with her a casket in which she kept her gold, and a dog which was called Little Snow. These two things were all that she had inherited from her mother. When they had travelled for some time they had to cross the sea, and the brother sat down at the helm, and the mother and the two half- sisters went to the fore-part of the vessel, and they sailed a long, long way. At last they came in sight of land.`Look at that white strand there; that is where we shall land,’ said the brother, pointing across the sea.`What is my brother saying?’ inquired the man’s daughter.`He says that you are to throw your casket out into the sea,’ answered the step-mother.`Well, if my brother says so, I must do it,’ said the man’s daughter, and she flung her casket into the sea.When they had sailed for some time longer, the brother once more pointed over the sea. `There you may see the palace to which we are bound,’ said he.`What is my brother saying?’ asked the man’s daughter.`Now he says that you are to throw your dog into the sea,’ answered the step-mother.The man’s daughter wept, and was sorely troubled, for Little Snow was the dearest thing she had on earth, but at last she threw him overboard.`If my brother says that, I must do it, but Heaven knows how unwilling I am to throw thee out, Little Snow!’ said she.So they sailed onwards a long way farther.`There may’st thou see the King coming out to meet thee,’ said the brother, pointing to the sea-shore.`What is my brother saying?’ asked his sister again.`Now he says that you are to make haste and throw yourself overboard,’ answered the step-mother.She wept and she wailed, but as her brother had said that, she thought she must do it; so she leaped into the sea.But when they arrived at the palace, and the King beheld the ugly bride with a nose that was four ells long, a jaw that was three ells, and a forehead that had a bush in the middle of it, he was quite terrified; but the wedding feast was all prepared, as regarded brewing and baking, and all the wedding guests were sitting waiting, so, ugly as she was, the King was forced to take her.But he was very wroth, and none can blame him for that; so he caused the brother to be thrown into a pit full of snakes.On the first Thursday night after this, a beautiful maiden came into the kitchen of the palace, and begged the kitchen-maid, who slept there, to lend her a brush. She begged very prettily, and got it, and then she brushed her hair, and the gold dropped from it.A little dog was with her, and she said to it, `Go out, Little Snow, and see if it will soon be day!’This she said thrice, and the third time that she sent out the dog to see, it was very near dawn. Then she was forced to depart, but as she went she said:`Out on thee, ugly Bushy Bride, Sleeping so soft by the young King’s side, On sand and stones my bed I make, And my brother sleeps with the cold snake, Unpitied and unwept.’I shall come twice more, and then never again,’ said she.In the morning the kitchen-maid related what she had seen and heard, and the King said that next Thursday night he himself would watch in the kitchen and see if this were true, and when it had begun to grow dark he went out into the kitchen to the girl. But though he rubbed his eyes and did everything he could to keep himself awake it was all in vain, for the Bushy Bride crooned and sang till his eyes were fast closed, and when the beautiful young maiden came he was sound asleep and snoring.This time also, as before, she borrowed a brush and brushed her hair with it, and the gold dropped down as she did it; and again she sent the dog out three times, and when day dawned she departed, but as she was going she said as she had said before, `I shall come once more, and then never again.’On the third Thursday night the King once more insisted on keeping watch. Then he set two men to hold him; each of them was to take an arm, and shake him and jerk him by the arm whenever he seemed to be going to fall asleep; and he set two men to watch his Bushy Bride. But as the night wore on the Bushy Bride again began to croon and to sing, so that his eyes began to close and his head to droop on one side. Then came the lovely maiden, and got the brush and brushed her hair till the gold dropped from it, and then she sent her Little Snow out to see if it would soon be day, and this she did three times. The third time it was just beginning to grow light, and then she said:`Out on thee, ugly Bushy Bride, Sleeping so soft by the young King’s side, On sand and stones my bed I make, And my brother sleeps with the cold snake, Unpitied and unwept.’`Now I shall never come again,’ she said, and then she turned to go. But the two men who were holding the King by the arms seized his hands and forced a knife into his grasp, and then made him cut her little finger just enough to make it bleed.“The sleeping king, guided by his attendants, cuts the finger of the beautiful maiden.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in the Red Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1890), Longmans, Green, and Company.Thus the true bride was freed. The King then awoke, and she told him all that had taken place, and how her step-mother and step-sister had betrayed her. Then the brother was at once taken out of the snake-pit–the snakes had never touched him–and the step-mother and step-sister were flung down into it instead of him.No one can tell how delighted the King was to get rid of that hideous Bushy Bride, and get a Queen who was bright and beautiful as day itself.And now the real wedding was held, and held in such a way that it was heard of and spoken about all over seven kingdoms. The King and his bride drove to church, and Little Snow was in the carriage too. When the blessing was given they went home again, and after that I saw no more of them.
A great conflict was about to come off between the Birds and the Beasts. When the two armies were collected together the Bat hesitated which to join. The Birds that passed his perch said: “Come with us”; but he said: “I am a Beast.”Later on, some Beasts who were passing underneath him looked up and said: “Come with us”; but he said: “I am a Bird.”Luckily at the last moment peace was made, and no battle took place, so the Bat came to the Birds and wished to join in the rejoicings, but they all turned against him and he had to fly away. He then went to the Beasts, but soon had to beat a retreat, or else they would have torn him to pieces.“Ah,” said the Bat, “I see now, “He that is neither one thing nor the other has no friends.”
In a certain village there lived an old Brâhmiṇ who had three sons and a daughter. The girl being the youngest was brought up most tenderly and became spoilt, and so whenever she saw a beautiful boy she would say to her parents that she must be wedded to him. Her parents were, therefore, much put about to devise excuses for taking her away from her youthful lovers. Thus passed on some years, till the girl was very nearly grown up, and then the parents, fearing that they would be driven out of their caste if they failed to dispose of her hand in marriage before she came to the years of maturity, began to be eager about finding a bridegroom for her.Now near their village there lived a fierce tiger, that had attained to great proficiency in the art of magic, and had the power of assuming different forms. Having a great taste for Brâhmiṇ’s food, the tiger used now and then to frequent temples and other places of public refreshment in the shape of an old famished Brâhmiṇ in order to share the food prepared for the Brâhmiṇs. The tiger also wanted, if possible, a Brâhmiṇ wife to take to the woods, and there to make her cook his meals after her fashion. One day, when he was partaking of his meals in Brâhmiṇ shape at a satra, he heard the talk about the Brâhmiṇ girl who was always falling in love with every beautiful Brâhmiṇ boy.Said he to himself, “Praised be the face that I saw first this morning. I shall assume the shape of a Brâhmiṇ boy, and appear as beautiful can be, and win the heart of the girl.”Next morning he accordingly became in the form of a great Śâstrin (proficient in the Râmâyaṇa) and took his seat near the ghâṭ of the sacred river of the village. Scattering holy ashes profusely over his body he opened the Râmâyaṇa and began to read.“The voice of the new Śâstrin is most enchanting. Let us go and hear him,” said some women among themselves, and sat down before him to hear him expound the great book. The girl for whom the tiger had assumed this shape came in due time to bathe at the river, and as soon as she saw the new Śâstrin fell in love with him, and bothered her old mother to speak to her father about him, so as not to lose her new lover. The old woman too was delighted at the bridegroom whom fortune had thrown in her way, and ran home to her husband, who, when he came and saw the Śâstrin, raised up his hands in praise of the great god Mahêśvara. The Śâstrin was now invited to take his meals with them, and as he had come with the express intention of marrying the daughter, he, of course, agreed.A grand dinner followed in honour of the Śâstrin, and his host began to question him as to his parentage, &c., to which the cunning tiger replied that he was born in a village beyond the adjacent wood. The Brâhmiṇ had no time to wait for further enquiries, and as the boy was very fair he married his daughter to him the very next day. Feasts followed for a month, during which time the bridegroom gave every satisfaction to his new relatives, who supposed him to be human all the while. He also did full justice to the Brâhmiṇ dishes, and swallowed everything that was placed before him.After the first month was over the tiger-bridegroom bethought him of his accustomed prey, and hankered after his abode in the woods. A change of diet for a day or two is all very well, but to renounce his own proper food for more than a month was hard. So one day he said to his father-in-law, “I must go back soon to my old parents, for they will be pining at my absence. But why should we have to bear the double expense of my coming all the way here again to take my wife to my village? So if you will kindly let me take the girl with me I shall take her to her future home, and hand her over to her mother-in-law, and see that she is well taken care of.”The old Brâhmiṇ agreed to this, and replied, “My dear son-in-law, you are her husband, and she is yours, and we now send her with you, though it is like sending her into the wilderness with her eyes tied up. But as we take you to be everything to her, we trust you to treat her kindly.”The mother of the bride shed tears at the idea of having to send her away, but nevertheless the very next day was fixed for the journey. The old woman spent the whole day in preparing cakes and sweetmeats for her daughter, and when the time for the journey arrived, she took care to place in her bundles and on her head one or two margosa leaves to keep off demons. The relatives of the bride requested her husband to allow her to rest wherever she found shade, and to eat wherever she found water, and to this he agreed, and so they began their journey.The boy tiger and his human wife pursued their journey for two or three ghaṭikâs(an Indian hour = 24 min.) in free and pleasant conversation, when the girl happened to see a fine pond, round which the birds were warbling their sweet notes. She requested her husband to follow her to the water’s edge and to partake of some of the cakes and sweetmeats with her.But he replied, “Be quiet, or I shall show you my original shape.”This made her afraid, so she pursued her journey in silence until she saw another pond, when she asked the same question of her husband, who replied in the same tone.Now she was very hungry, and not liking her husband’s tone, which she found had greatly changed ever since they had entered the woods, said to him,“Show me your original shape.”No sooner were these words uttered than her husband’s form changed from that of a man. Four legs, striped skin, a long tail, and a tiger’s face came over him suddenly and, horror of horrors! a tiger and not a man stood before her! Nor were her fears stilled when the tiger in human voice began as follows:—“Know henceforth that I, your husband, am a tiger—this very tiger that now speaks to you. If you have any regard for your life you must obey all my orders implicitly, for I can speak to you in human voice, and understand what you say. In a couple of ghaṭikâs we shall reach my home, of which you will become the mistress. In the front of my house you will see half-a-dozen tubs, each of which you must fill up daily with some dish or other, cooked in your own way. I shall take care to supply you with all the provisions you want.” So saying the tiger slowly conducted her to his house.The misery of the girl may more be imagined than described, for if she were to object she would be put to death. So, weeping all the way, she reached her husband’s house. Leaving her there he went out and returned with several pumpkins and some flesh, of which she soon prepared a curry and gave it to her husband. He went out again after this and returned in the evening with several vegetables and some more flesh, and gave her an order:—“Every morning I shall go out in search of provisions and prey, and bring something with me on my return; you must keep cooked for me whatever I leave in the house.”So next morning as soon as the tiger had gone away she cooked everything left in the house and filled all the tubs with food. At the tenth ghaṭikâ the tiger returned and growled out,“I smell a man! I smell a woman in my wood.” And his wife for very fear shut herself up in the house.As soon as the tiger had satisfied his appetite he told her to open the door, which she did, and they talked together for a time, after which the tiger rested awhile, and then went out hunting again. Thus passed many a day, till the tiger’s Brâhmiṇ wife had a son, which also turned out to be only a tiger.One day, after the tiger had gone out to the woods, his wife was crying all alone in the house, when a crow happened to peck at some rice that was scattered near her, and seeing the girl crying, began to shed tears.“Can you assist me?” asked the girl.“Yes,” said the crow.So she brought out a palmyra leaf and wrote on it with an iron nail all her sufferings in the wood, and requested her brothers to come and relieve her. This palmyra leaf she tied to the neck of the crow, which, seeming to understand her thoughts, flew to her village and sat down before one of her brothers. He untied the leaf and read the contents of the letter and told them to his other brothers. All the three then started for the wood, asking their mother to give them something to eat on the way. She had not enough rice for the three, so she made a big ball of clay and stuck it over with what rice she had, so as to make it look like a ball of rice. This she gave to the brothers to eat on their way, and started them off to the woods.They had not proceeded long before they espied an ass. The youngest, who was of a playful disposition, wished to take the ass with him. The two elder brothers objected to this for a time, but in the end they allowed him to have his own way. Further on they saw an ant, which the middle brother took with him. Near the ant there was a big palmyra tree lying on the ground, which the eldest took with him to keep off the tiger.The sun was now high in the horizon and the three brothers became very hungry. So they sat down near a tank and opened the bundle containing the ball of rice. To their utter disappointment they found it to be all clay, but being extremely hungry they drank all the water in the pond and continued their journey. On leaving the tank they found a big iron tub belonging to the washerman of the adjacent village. This they took also with them in addition to the ass, the ant, and the palmyra tree. Following the road described by their sister in her letter sent by the crow, they walked on and on till they reached the tiger’s house.The sister, overjoyed to see her brothers again, ran out at once to welcome them.“My dearest brothers, I am so glad to see that you have come here to relieve me after all, but the time for the tiger’s coming home is approaching, so hide yourselves in the loft, and wait till he is gone.”So saying, she helped her brothers to ascend into the loft. By this time the tiger returned, and perceived the presence of human beings by the peculiar smell. He asked his wife whether any one had come to their house. She said, “No.” But when the brothers, who with their trophies of the way—the ass, the ant, and so on—were sitting upon the loft, saw the tiger dallying with their sister, they were greatly frightened; so much so that the youngest, through fear, began to quake, and they all fell on the floor.“What is all this?” said the terrified tiger to his wife.“Nothing,” said she, “but your brothers-in-law. They came here a watch(three hours) ago, and as soon as you have finished your meals they want to see you.”“How can my brothers-in-law be such cowards,” thought the tiger to himself.He then asked them to speak to him, whereon the youngest brother put the ant which he had in his hand into the ear of the ass, and as soon as the latter was bitten, it began to bawl out most horribly.“How is it that your brothers have such a hoarse voice?” said the tiger to his wife.He next asked them to show him their legs. Taking courage at the stupidity of the tiger on the two former occasions, the eldest brother now stretched out the palmyra tree.“By my father, I have never seen such a leg,” said the tiger, and asked his brothers-in-law to show their bellies. The second brother now showed the tub, at which the tiger shuddered, and saying, “such a harsh voice, so stout a leg, and such a belly, truly I have never heard of such persons as these!” He ran away.It was already dark, and the brothers, wishing to take advantage of the tiger’s terror, prepared to return home with their sister at once. They ate up what little food she had, and ordered her to start. Fortunately for her her tiger-child was asleep. So she tore it into two pieces and suspended them over the hearth, and, thus getting rid of the child, she ran off with her brothers towards home.Before leaving she bolted the front door from inside, and went out at the back of the house. As soon as the pieces of the cub, which were hung up over the hearth, began to roast, they dripped, which made the fire hiss and sputter; and when the tiger returned at about midnight, he found the door shut and heard the hissing of the fire, which he mistook for the noise of cooking muffins.“I see,” said he to himself, “how very cunning you are; you have bolted the door and are cooking muffins for your brothers. Let us see if we can’t get your muffins.”So saying he went round to the back door and entered his house, and was greatly perplexed to find his cub torn in two and being roasted, his house deserted by his Brâhmiṇ wife, and his property plundered; for his wife, before leaving, had taken with her as much of the tiger’s property as she could conveniently carry.The tiger now discovered all the treachery of his wife, and his heart grieved for the loss of his son, that was now no more. He determined to be revenged on his wife, and to bring her back into the wood, and there tear her into many pieces in place of only two. But how to bring her back? He assumed his original shape of a young bridegroom, making, of course, due allowance for the number of years that had passed since his marriage, and next morning went to his father-in-law’s house. His brothers-in-law and his wife saw from a distance the deceitful form he had assumed, and devised means to kill him. Meanwhile the tiger Brâhmiṇ approached his father-in-law’s house, and the old people welcomed him. The younger ones too ran here and there to bring provisions to feed him sumptuously, and the tiger was highly pleased at the hospitable way in which he was received.There was a ruined well at the back of the house, and the eldest of the brothers placed some thin sticks across its mouth, over which he spread a fine mat. Now it is usual to ask guests to have an oil bath before dinner, and so his three brothers-in-law requested the tiger to take his seat on the fine mat for his bath. As soon as he sat on it, the thin sticks being unable to bear his weight, gave way, and down fell the cunning tiger with a heavy crash! The well was at once filled in with stones and other rubbish, and thus the tiger was effectually prevented from doing any more mischief.But the Brâhmiṇ girl, in memory of her having married a tiger, raised a pillar over the well and planted a tulaśi shrub (herb) on the top of it. Morning and evening, for the rest of her life, she used to smear the pillar with sacred cowdung, and water the tulaśi shrub.This story is told to explain the Tamil proverb, “Śummâ irukkiraya, śuruvattai kâṭṭaṭṭuma,” which means—“Be quiet, or I shall show you my original shape.”
Once upon a time, all the people of a certain country had died, excepting two helpless children, a baby boy and a little girl.When their parents died, these children were asleep. The little girl, who was the elder, was the first to awake. She looked around her, but seeing nobody beside her little brother, who lay smiling in his dreams, she quietly resumed her bed.At the end of ten days her brother moved, without opening his eyes.At the end of ten days more he changed his position, lying on the other side, and in this way he kept on sleeping for a long time; and pleasant, too, must have been his dreams, for his little sister never looked at him that he was not quite a little heaven of smiles and flashing lights, which beamed about his head and filled the lodge with a strange splendor.The girl soon grew to be a woman, but the boy increased in stature very slowly. It was a long time before he could even creep, and he was well advancedin years before he could stand alone. When he was able to walk, his sister made him a little bow and arrows, and hung around his neck a small shell, saying:“You shall be called Dais Imid, or He of the Little Shell.”Every day he would go out with his little bow, shooting at the small birds. The first bird he killed was a tom-tit. His sister was highly pleased when he took it to her. She carefully prepared and stuffed it, and put it away for him.The next day he killed a red squirrel. His sister preserved this, too. The third day he killed a partridge, and this they had for their evening meal.After this he acquired more courage, and would venture some distance from home. His skill and success as a hunter daily increased, and he killed the deer, bear, moose, and other large animals inhabiting the forest.At last, although so very small of stature, he became a great hunter, and all that he shot he brought home and shared with his sister; and whenever he entered the lodge, a light beamed about his head and filled the place with a strange splendor.He had now arrived at the years of manhood, but he still remained a perfect infant in size.One day, walking about in quest of game, he came to a small lake.It was in the winter season; and upon the ice of the lake he saw a man of giant height, employed killing beavers.Comparing himself with this great man, he felt that he was no bigger than an insect. He seated himself on the shore and watched his movements.When the large man had killed many beavers, he put them on a hand-sled which he had, and pursued his way home. When he saw him retire, the dwarf hunter followed, and, wielding his magic shell, he cut off the tail of one of the beavers, and ran home with the prize.The giant, on reaching his lodge with his sled-load of beavers, was surprised to find one of them shorn of its tail.The next day the little hero of the shell went to the same lake. The giant, who had been busy there for some time, had already loaded his sled and commenced his return; but running nimbly forward and overtaking him, he succeeded in securing another of the beaver-tails.“I wonder,” said the giant, on reaching his lodge and overlooking his beavers, “what dog it is that has thus cheated me. Could I meet him, I would make his flesh quiver at the point of my javelin.”The giant forgot that he had taken these very beavers out of a beaver-dam which belonged to the little shell-man and his sister, without permission.The next day he pursued his hunting at the beaver-dam near the lake, and he was again followed by the little man with the shell.This time the giant was so nimble in his movements that he had nearly reached home before the Shell, make the best speed he could, could overtake him; but he was just in time to clip another beaver’s tail before the sled slipped into the lodge.The giant would have been a patient giant, indeed, if his anger had not been violent at these constant tricks played upon him. What vexed him most, was, that he could not get a sight of his enemy. Sharp eyes he would have needed to do so, inasmuch as he of the little shell had the gift of making himself invisible whenever he chose.The giant, giving vent to his feelings with many loud rumbling words, looked sharply around to see whether he could discover any tracks. He could find none. The unknown had stepped too lightly to leave the slightest mark behind.The next day the giant resolved to disappoint his mysterious follower by going to the beaver-dam very early; and accordingly, when the little shell man came to the place he found the fresh traces of his work, but the giant had already gone away. He followed hard upon his tracks, but he failed to overtake him. When he of the little shell came in sight of the lodge, the stranger was in front of it, employed in skinning his beavers.As Dais-Imid stood looking at him—for he had been all this time invisible—he thought:“I will let him have a view of me.”Presently the man, who proved to be no less a personage than the celebrated giant, Manabozho, looked up and saw him.After regarding him with attention, “Who are you, little man?” said Manabozho. “I have a mind to kill you.”The little hero of the shell replied:“If you were to try to kill me you could not do it.”With this speech of the little man, Manabozho grabbed at him; but when he thought to have had him in his hand, he was gone.“Where are you now, little man?” cried Manabozho.“Here, under your girdle,” answered the shell-dwarf; at which giant Manabozho, thinking to crush him, slapped down his great hand with all his might; but on unloosing his girdle he was disappointed at finding no dwarf there.“Where are you now, little man?” he cried again, in a greater rage than ever.“In your right nostril!” the dwarf replied; whereupon the giant Manabozho seized himself by the finger and thumb at the place, and gave it a violent tweak; but as he immediately heard the voice of the dwarf at a distance upon the ground, he was satisfied that he had only pulled his own nose to no purpose.“Good-by, Manabozho,” said the voice of the invisible dwarf. “Count your beaver-tails, and you will find that I have taken another for my sister;” for he of the little shell never, in his wanderings or pastimes, forgot his sister and her wishes. “Good-by, beaver-man!”And as he went away he made himself visible once more, and a light beamed about his head and lit the air around him with a strange splendor; a circumstance which Manabozho, who was at times quite thick-headed and dull of apprehension, could no way understand.When Dais-Imid returned home, he told his sister that the time drew nigh when they must separate.“I must go away,” said Dais-Imid, “it is my fate. You, too,” he added, “must go away soon. Tell me where you would wish to dwell.”She said, “I would like to go to the place of the breaking of daylight. I have always loved the East. The earliest glimpses of light are from that quarter, and it is to my mind the most beautiful part of the heavens. After I get there, my brother, whenever you see the clouds, in that direction, of various colors, you may think that your sister is painting her face.”“And I,” said he, “I, my sister, shall live on the mountains and rocks. There I can see you at the earliest hour; there are the streams of water clear; the air is pure, and the golden lights will shine ever around my head, and I shall ever be called ‘Puck-Ininee, or the Little Wild Man of the Mountains.’ But,” he resumed, “before we part forever, I must go and try to find what manitoes rule the earth, and see which of them will be friendly to us.”He left his sister and traveled over the surface of the globe, and then went far down into the earth.He had been treated well wherever he went. At last he came to a giant manito, who had a large kettle which was forever boiling. The giant, who was a first cousin to Manabozho, and had already heard of the tricks which Dais-Imid had played upon his kinsman, regarded him with a stern look, and, catching him up in his hand, he threw him unceremoniously into the kettle.It was evidently the giant’s intention to drown Dais-Imid; in which he was mistaken, for by means of his magic shell, little Dais, in less than a second’s time, bailed the water to the bottom, leaped from the kettle, and ran away unharmed.He returned to his sister and related his rovings and adventures. He finished his story by addressing her thus:“My sister there is a manito at each of the four corners of the earth. There is also one above them, far in the sky, a Great Being who assigns to you, and-to me, and to all of us, where we must go. And last,” he continued, “there is another and wicked one who lives deep down in the earth. It will be our lot to escape out of his reach. We must now separate. When the winds blow from the four corners of the earth, you must then go. They will carry you to the place you wish. I go to the rocks and mountains, where my kindred will ever delight to dwell.”Dais-Imid then took his ball-stick and commenced running up a high mountain, and a bright light shone about his head all the way, and he kept singing as he went:Blow, winds, blow! my sister lingersFor her dwelling in the sky,Where the morn, with rosy fingers,Shall her cheeks with vermil dye.There my earliest views directed,Shall from her their color take,And her smiles, through clouds reflected,Guide me on by wood or lake.While I range the highest mountains,Sport in valleys green and low,Or, beside our Indian fountains,Raise my tiny hip-hallo.Presently the winds blew, and, as Dais-Imid had predicted, his sister was borne by them to the eastern sky, where she has ever since lived, and her name is now the Morning Star.
When the Holy Virgin was fleeing into Egypt to escape the persecutions of Herod, the Codorniz bird flew about making a great racket, calling out, “Come this way.”“Keep quiet!” cried the Virgin. “Our enemies will hear you! They will come in pursuit!”In spite of her words the Codorniz kept up its noise.“My curse be upon you,” said the Virgin. “You shall always walk humbly. You shall never fly high and smile at the sun.”To this very day the Codorniz bird walks humbly. It has many enemies who love to slay it to devour.
The future Buddha was once born in a minister’s family, when Brahma- datta was reigning in Benares; and when he grew up, he became the king’s adviser in things temporal and spiritual.Now this king was very talkative; while he was speaking, others had no opportunity for a word. And the future Buddha, wanting to cure this talkativeness of his, was constantly seeking for some means of doing so.At that time there was living, in a pond in the Himalaya mountains, a tortoise. Two young hamsas, or wild ducks, who came to feed there, made friends with him. And one day, when they had become very intimate with him, they said to the tortoise:“Friend tortoise! the place where we live, at the Golden Cave on Mount Beautiful in the Himalaya country, is a delightful spot. Will you come there with us?”“But how can I get there?”“We can take you, if you can only hold your tongue, and will say nothing to anybody.”“Oh! that I can do. Take me with you.”“That’s right,” said they. And making the tortoise bite hold of a stick, they themselves took the two ends in their teeth, and flew up into the air.Seeing him thus carried by the hamsas, some villagers called out, “Two wild ducks are carrying a tortoise along on a stick!” Whereupon the tortoise wanted to say, “If my friends choose to carry me, what is that to you, you wretched slaves!” So just as the swift flight of the wild ducks had brought him over the king’s palace in the city of Benares, he let go of the stick he was biting, and falling in the open courtyard, split in two! And there arose a universal cry, “A tortoise has fallen in the open courtyard, and has split in two!”The king, taking the future Buddha, went to the place, surrounded by his courtiers; and looking at the tortoise, he asked the Bodisat, “Teacher! how comes he to be fallen here?”The future Buddha thought to himself, “Long expecting, wishing to admonish the king, have I sought for some means of doing so. This tortoise must have made friends with the wild ducks; and they must have made him bite hold of the stick, and have flown up into the air to take him to the hills. But he, being unable to hold his tongue when he hears any one else talk, must have wanted to say something, and let go the stick; and so must have fallen down from the sky, and thus lost his life.” And saying, “Truly, O king! those who are called chatter-boxes— people whose words have no end—come to grief like this,” he uttered these Verses: “Verily the tortoise killed himselfWhilst uttering his voice;Though he was holding tight the stick,By a word himself he slew.“Behold him then, O excellent by strength!And speak wise words, not out of season.You see how, by his talking overmuch,The tortoise fell into this wretched plight!”The king saw that he was himself referred to, and said, “O Teacher! are you speaking of us?”And the Bodisat spake openly, and said, “O great king! be it thou, or be it any other, whoever talks beyond measure meets with some mishap like this.”And the king henceforth refrained himself, and became a man of few words.
Old Town, Calabar, once had a king called Essiya, who, like most of the Calabar kings in the olden days, was rich and powerful; but although he was so wealthy, he did not possess many slaves. He therefore used to call upon the animals and birds to help his people with their work. In order to get the work done quickly and well, he determined to appoint head chiefs of all the different species. The elephant he appointed king of the beasts of the forest, and the hippopotamus king of the water animals, until at last it came to the turn of the birds to have their king elected.Essiya thought for some time which would be the best way to make a good choice, but could not make up his mind, as there were so many different birds who all considered they had claims. There was the hawk with his swift flight, and of hawks there were several species. There were the herons to be considered, and the big spur-winged geese, the hornbill or toucan tribe, and the game birds, such as guinea-fowl, the partridge, and the bustards. Then again, of course, there were all the big crane tribe, who walked about the sandbanks in the dry season, but who disappeared when the river rose, and the big black-and-white fishing eagles. When the king thought of the plover tribe, the sea-birds, including the pelicans, the doves, and the numerous shy birds who live in the forest, all of whom sent in claims, he got so confused, that he decided to have a trial by ordeal of combat, and sent word round the whole country for all the birds to meet the next day and fight it out between themselves, and that the winner should be known as the king bird ever afterwards.The following morning many thousands of birds came, and there was much screeching and flapping of wings. The hawk tribe soon drove all the small birds away, and harassed the big waders so much, that they very shortly disappeared, followed by the geese, who made much noise, and winged away in a straight line, as if they were playing “Follow my leader.” The big forest birds who liked to lead a secluded life very soon got tired of all the noise and bustle, and after a few croaks and other weird noises went home. The game birds had no chance and hid in the bush, so that very soon the only birds left were the hawks and the big black-and-white fishing eagle, who was perched on a tree calmly watching everything. The scavenger hawks were too gorged and lazy to take much interest in the proceedings, and were quietly ignored by the fighting tribe, who were very busy circling and swooping on one another, with much whistling going on. Higher and higher they went, until they disappeared out of sight. Then a few would return to earth, some of them badly torn and with many feathers missing.At last the fishing eagle said—“When you have quite finished with this foolishness please tell me, and if any of you fancy yourselves at all, come to me, and I will settle your chances of being elected head chief once and for all;” but when they saw his terrible beak and cruel claws, knowing his great strength and ferocity, they stopped fighting between themselves, and acknowledged the fishing eagle to be their master.Essiya then declared that Ituen, which was the name of the fishing eagle, was the head chief of all the birds, and should thenceforward be known as the king bird.From that time to the present day, whenever the young men of the country go to fight they always wear three of the long black-and-white feathers of the king bird in their hair, one on each side and one in the middle, as they are believed to impart much courage and skill to the wearer; and if a young man is not possessed of any of these feathers when he goes out to fight, he is looked upon as a very small boy indeed.
The children were accompanying Old Hendrik from the tobacco lands to the mealie lands farther out, and on the way, in crossing the broken, bush-grown spruit between, the eldest boy marked a fresh earth of the Ratel or honey-badger. “Dat’s bad to see if we don’t do sometin’,” said Old Hendrik. “Dere’ll be mighty little honey on dis place ’fore long if we don’t drop on to Mr Ratel.”“But, Ou’ Ta’,” demanded Annie, “why is the Ratel always after the honey?”“Well, Ainkye,” answered Old Hendrik gravely, “it’s ’cause it’s in de blood. Some folk ses it’s dis way an’ some ses it’s dat way but as soon as Ou’ Ratel sees ’em comin’ to ax, he fair dives into diggin’, an’ he’s half-way down to Dublin, as your mammy ses, ’fore dey comes to where he started f’m. It ain’t dat dese hyer Ratels ain’t proud o’ de reason, ’cause dey tinks it was mighty smart o’ deir grandaddy. It’s yust dey rinks nobody knows, an’ so dey won’t tell.“But I knows, ’cause my ole grandaddy tole me, an’ it happen in his grandaddy’s time. You see it was de grandaddy of all dese yere Ratels, an it was when he was a young kerel in his daddy’s house. Dere ain’t no doubt he was slim, baiah slim, an’ he was yust dat gone on honey dat he even played tricks on his ole daddy, till at last he tried on dat about de sack o’ honey an’ de honey-gum tree. Den—well, you listen.“Dis young Seeunkie Ratel was de sort dat his mammy was al’ays a-fallin’ out wid his daddy over him, reckonin’ his daddy was al’ays a-tinkin’ he was up to some skellumness or other. An I reckon myse’f dat de ole man know’d. However, de ole man had a big goatskin chock full o’ de finest honey, an’ he kep’ it under de bed in de sleepin’ chamber, so it ’ud be nice an handy—an’ safe. In a mawnin’ dey’d all get up, an de ole daddy he’d go out an’ have a look round, an’ de ole mammy she’d be busy a-gettin’ de breakfas’ ready, while little missy Wilhelmina Ratel she’d play about, inside or outside or underfoot, yust like little girls does when deir mammies is busy. An’ all dis time young Seeunkie Ratel he’d be—well—dat’s when de honey ’ud be doin’ de dis-appearin’.“What he used to do was to wait till de rest was outside or in de eatin’ room, an’ den he’d sneak back into de sleepin’ chamber, pull out his knife, snick a chunk o’ dis sugary honey out o’ de bag, slip it into his pocket an’ off out to have a look round too, ’fore breakfas’. Dat’s when he’d scoff dis chunk o’ honey.“Well, de ole daddy he sees his honey lookin’ less an’ less every day, an’ he scratch his head an’ he say to his wife: ‘Mammy,’ ses he, ‘dat’s mighty funny about dat honey. It’s a-goin’ somewheres.’“‘Well,’ ses she, ‘what you expect? You let dat good-for-nuffin’ Wilhelmina play about yust as she likes an’ do what she likes, an’ yet you won’t never b’lieve nawtin’ I tells you about her. I know’d she’d be in some mischief soon,’ ses she, for Ole Missis Ratel was one o’ dese women what’s all for deir skellum of a boy, an’ so de daddy has to be good to de little girl hisse’f.“Well, ole daddy he sit down an’ he tink an’ tink, an’ old mammy she go out an’ ketch hold o’ little Wilhelmina an’ spank an’ spank, but young Seeunkie he stays out on de veldt an smack an’ smack his lips on de honey, an’ keep de tail o’ one eye over his shoulder to watch if his daddy’s comin’.“Tings went on a-dis way den, till one mawnin’ at breakfas’ dey had a pretty good ole breakfas’, an’ by de time dey’d finis’ de ole daddy was a-feelin’ yust right an’ comfy, an’ he lean back in his chair an’ pulls out half a yard o’ yuicy ole to’acco. ‘Len’ your ole daddy your knife for a minute, Seeunkie,’ ses he.“Young Seeunkie tink no mo’ about it, but dives down in his pocket an’ haul out his knife an’ lifts it over. But he hadn’t no mo’ dan stretch it out ’fore he feels de honey sticky on it, yust as de ole daddy grips his fingers on it. De yoke’s on his neck now, tinks Seeunkie, as he looks at his daddy, but he never lets on yust yet.“Oom Ratel gets de knife open ’fore de sticky feelin’ strikes him. Den he looks down at de blade an’ de joints of it an’ den he looks up at young Seeunkie an’ de cheeks of him, an’—well, he gets up an’ grabs dat young burgher by de scruff. ‘So it’s you bin steal all dat honey, is it?’ ses he. ‘Yust what I t’ought a’ready.’“‘Dere you is agen,’ shouts de ole fool mammy. ‘Blamin’ him ’fore you knows if it’s true or not. You ain’t ask him what he’s got to say.’“‘Dere ain’t no need for any say in it,’ ses ole daddy. ‘Dere’s de honey on his knife to do all de sayin’.’“‘But dat ain’t honey at all;’ ses Seeunkie, bold as brass now his mammy’s up. ‘Dat’s yust sweet honey-gum. I found a tree o’ sweet gum yestiday down by de spruit.’“‘Sweet gum!’ ses Oom Ratel. ‘I’s lived a bit longer an’ seen a bit mo’ dan you, Seeunkie, but I ain’t never seen any sweet gum tree nor heerd o’ one yet.’“‘Well, you’s seen an’ heerd o’ sweet gum now,’ snaps dat ole fool mammy; ‘an’ dat on’y shows how much smarter he is dan you. You let him go, an’ he’ll show you de tree a’ right enough.’“‘Yes, I will,’ ses Seeunkie, as sa’cy as a new ticky.“‘Right den,’ ses de ole daddy. ‘I’s yust a-goin’ round de koppie now, an’ as soon as I’m back you’ll ha’ to show me dis sweet gum tree, or else I’ll knock some gum out o’ you.’“So off goes Oom Ratel round de koppie, an’ den young Seeunkie looks at his mammy, an’ his mammy looks at him. ‘What’ll you do now, Seeunkie?’ ses she.“‘Go an’ show him de tree,’ ses Seeunkie. ‘You lend me anoder knife now, an’ you’ll see.’“Well, she lend him dis knife, an’ off he pops an’ down to de spruit. Dere he pick out a nice young t’orn tree standin’ by itself, one dat hain’t got many gum cracks on it, an’ he set to work like billy-o to scrape off every bit o’ dat gum an’ leave de spots bare. An’ when he couldn’t see not de glisten o’ one speck left, den he goes back home an’ waits for de ole daddy.“Well, an’ here comes in Oom Ratel. ‘Ready to show me dat tree now?’ ses he.“‘I is,’ ses Seeunkie. ‘Come dis way an’ I’ll show you.’“So off dey pops an’ comes to de tree. ‘Dat’s de tree, daddy,’ ses Seeunkie. ‘See how clean I scraped it till dere ain’t none left, it was dat good.’“Oom Ratel he look at de tree an’ he see de bare spots, an’ he try to scrape de cracks wid his nails to taste it. But young Seeunkie’s scraped too clean for dat, an’ so de ole daddy has to turn round an’ look at him. ‘An’ when’s dis tree goin’ to ha’ some more honey on it?’ ses he.“‘Well, it’s of a mawnin’ de honey’s out,’ ses Seeunkie. ‘Dere has to be de sun on it all day, an’ den at night de stuff runs. To-morro’ mawnin’s de time den.’“‘A’ right,’ ses ole daddy. ‘To-morro’ mawnin’ you leave dis tree alone till I comes. Don’t you dah to touch it ’fore I sees it. Den we’ll see,’ ses he.“Well, p’r’aps you tink dat ’ud set young Seeunkie to studyin’ hard. But not him; he yust stalks back wid his ole daddy, hands in pockets an’ mouf in a whistle, like a location Kaffir wid new yalla boots on. It ain’t no sort o’ trouble to him to plan skellum; it yust come nat’ral to him.“When dey gets home young Seeunkie grins at his mammy, but Oom Ratel he goes out agen on business. An dis time he takes de honey sack wid him, for he’s got a plan an’ he’s yust a-startin’ to work it. But he hain’t got nawtin sure yet to say to his missis one way or anoder as he goes out. She has. She ses it too. ‘Didn’t I tole you!’ ses she.“Next mawnin’ Oom Ratel gets all his goin’s out done ’fore breakfas’, so as he’ll be ready for dis honey tree first ting ahter it. But young Seeunkie he goes out too on his own account, on’y he first cuts anoder chunk o’ honey out of his ole daddy’s goatskin under de bed, an’ takes dat wid him, an’ as soon as he gets to de young mimosa he scrapes de gum spots clean agen an’ daubs ’em all fresh wid honey. Den he sneaks home an’ smiles to hisse’f all troo breakfas’ time.“Well, ahter breakfas’ Oom Ratel he ses. ‘Come on,’ an’ de young Seeunkie he ses, ‘A’ right,’ an’ off dey pops down to de honey-gum tree. Sure enough, dere’s de honey an’ dere’s de ole daddy a-tastin’ it an’ a-sayin’ what mighty good stuff it is.“‘Well,’ ses de young fella, ‘I tole you all de time, but you wouldn’t b’lieve me. An’ now what?’ ses he.“‘Oh, now everytin’s all right,’ ses de ole daddy grinnin’. ‘An’ here you is, Seeunkie, I’s brought dis,’ ses he, pullin’ out a big new goatskin sack. ‘You scrape off all dat honey-gum now onto a big leaf for your ole daddy to eat an’ den you can stop here wid dis sack an’ keep on scrapin’ every mawnin’ till you gets it full.’“‘Oh, but,’ ses young Seeunkie, ‘it’ll take so long to fill dat!’“‘Oh, dat’s all right,’ ses his ole daddy, all a-smilin’. ‘In de daytime you can dig yourse’f a little house, an’ your sister Wilhelmina can bring you some scoff every mawnin’, an’ you’ll yust have a fine ole time wid no ole daddy to boss you.’“Well, wasn’t young Seeunkie s’prise, an’ didn’t he sniff an’ he snivel. But it ain’t no use, he ha’ to stop. An’ when it come ahternoon too, an’ he go up home an’ he howl an he prowl, it still ain’t no manner o’ use eeder, for de ole man just pops out ahter him an’ shambok him away agen.“‘Now, what’s all dat for?’ scream ole Missis Ratel. ‘Didn’t he show you de tree, an hain’t you eat de sweet gum yourse’f?’“‘I did,’ ses ole Ratel. ‘Dat’s yust it. If I hadn’t a-eat it I mightn’t a-know’d. But I put rock aloes yuice on de honey dat was in de bag under de bed last night, an’ dis sweet gum f’m de t’orn tree was yust a-stingin’ wid aloes yuice dis mawnin’. If young Seeunkie’s smart enough to steal his daddy’s honey, an’ try to fool him, den he’s big enough an’ smart enough to look out for hisse’f f’m now on. Dere’s lots o’ country out o’ doors for him to dig in.’“Well, ole Missis Ratel she rage an’ she ramp, but it ain’t no manner o’ use. De ole man stick to what he say, an’ young Seeunkie hatto go, all ’cause he couldn’t leave any honey alone, not even his ole daddy’s.“So,” concluded the old Hottentot, “now you knows why de Ratel is yust so dead gone on honey—it’s in de blood, an’ you cahnt get dat out nohow. An’ ahter dat, don’t you Kleinkies ever go stealin’ your ole daddy’s honey, else you’ll be gettin’ de same way.” With which debatable threat Old Hendrik resumed his course to the mealie lands beyond.
A Hunter went out after game, and succeeded in catching a hare, which he was carrying home with him when he met a man on horseback, who said to him, “You have had some sport I see, sir,” and offered to buy it. The Hunter readily agreed; but the Horseman had no sooner got the hare in his hands than he set spurs to his horse and went off at full gallop. The Hunter ran after him for some little distance; but it soon dawned upon him that he had been tricked, and he gave up trying to overtake the Horseman, and, to save his face, called after him as loud as he could, “All right, sir, all right, take your hare: it was meant all along as a present.”
There once lived a king who was much loved by his people, and he, too, loved them warmly. He led a very happy life, but he had the greatest dislike to the idea of marrying, nor had he ever felt the slightest wish to fall in love. His subjects begged him to marry, and at last he promised to try to do so. But as, so far, he had never cared for any woman he had seen, he made up his mind to travel in hopes of meeting some lady he could love.So he arranged all the affairs of state in an orderly manner, and set out, attended by only one equerry, who, though not very clever, had most excellent good sense. These people indeed generally make the best fellow-travellers.The king explored several countries, doing all he could to fall in love, but in vain; and at the end of two years’ journeys he turned his face towards home, with as free a heart as when he set out.As he was riding along through a forest he suddenly heard the most awful miawing and shrieking of cats you can imagine. The noise drew nearer, and nearer, and at last they saw a hundred huge Spanish cats rush through the trees close to them. They were so closely packed together that you could easily have covered them with a large cloak, and all were following the same track. They were closely pursued by two enormous apes, dressed in purple suits, with the prettiest and best made boots you ever saw.The apes were mounted on superb mastiffs, and spurred them on in hot haste, blowing shrill blasts on little toy trumpets all the time.The king and his equerry stood still to watch this strange hunt, which was followed by twenty or more little dwarfs, some mounted on wolves, and leading relays, and others with cats in leash. The dwarfs were all dressed in purple silk liveries like the apes.A moment later a beautiful young woman mounted on a tiger came in sight. She passed close to the king, riding at full speed, without taking any notice of him; but he was at once enchanted by her, and his heart was gone in a moment.To his great joy he saw that one of the dwarfs had fallen behind the rest, and at once began to question him.The dwarf told him that the lady he had just seen was the Princess Mutinosa, the daughter of the king in whose country they were at that moment. He added that the princess was very fond of hunting, and that she was now in pursuit of rabbits.The king then asked the way to the court, and having been told it, hurried off, and reached the capital in a couple of hours.As soon as he arrived, he presented himself to the king and queen, and on mentioning his own name and that of his country, was received with open arms. Not long after, the princess returned, and hearing that the hunt had been very successful, the king complimented her on it, but she would not answer a word.Her silence rather surprised him, but he was still more astonished when he found that she never spoke once all through supper-time. Sometimes she seemed about to speak, but whenever this was the case her father or mother at once took up the conversation. However, this silence did not cool the king’s affection, and when he retired to his rooms at night he confided his feelings to his faithful equerry. But the equerry was by no means delighted at his king’s love affair, and took no pains to hide his disappointment.‘But why are you vexed?’ asked the king. ‘Surely the princess is beautiful enough to please anyone?’‘She is certainly very handsome,’ replied the equerry, ‘but to be really happy in love something more than beauty is required. To tell the truth, sire,’ he added, ‘her expression seems to me hard.’‘That is pride and dignity,’ said the king, ‘and nothing can be more becoming.’‘Pride or hardness, as you will,’ said the equerry; ‘but to my mind the choice of so many fierce creatures for her amusements seems to tell of a fierce nature, and I also think there is something suspicious in the care taken to prevent her speaking.’The equerry’s remarks were full of good sense; but as opposition is only apt to increase love in the hearts of men, and especially of kings who hate being contradicted, this king begged, the very next day, for the hand of the Princess Mutinosa. It was granted him on two conditions.The first was that the wedding should take place the very next day; and the second, that he should not speak to the princess till she was his wife; to all of which the king agreed, in spite of his equerry’s objections, so that the first word he heard his bride utter was the ‘Yes’ she spoke at their marriage.Once married, however, she no longer placed any check on herself, and her ladies-in-waiting came in for plenty of rude speeches—even the king did not escape scolding; but as he was a good-tempered man, and very much in love, he bore it patiently. A few days after the wedding the newly married pair set out for their kingdom without leaving many regrets behind.The good equerry’s fears proved only too true, as the king found out to his cost. The young queen made herself most disagreeable to all her court, her spite and bad temper knew no bounds, and before the end of a month she was known far and wide as a regular vixen.One day, when riding out, she met a poor old woman walking along the road, who made a curtsy and was going on, when the queen had her stopped, and cried: ‘You are a very impertinent person; don’t you know that I am the queen? And how dare you not make me a deeper curtsy?’‘Madam,’ said the old woman, ‘I have never learnt how to measure curtsies; but I had no wish to fail in proper respect.’‘What!’ screamed the queen; ‘she dares to answer! Tie her to my horse’s tail and I’ll just carry her at once to the best dancing-master in the town to learn how to curtsy.’The old woman shrieked for mercy, but the queen would not listen, and only mocked when she said she was protected by the fairies. At last the poor old thing submitted to be tied up, but when the queen urged her horse on he never stirred. In vain she spurred him, he seemed turned to bronze. At the same moment the cord with which the old woman was tied changed into wreaths of flowers, and she herself into a tall and stately lady.Looking disdainfully at the queen, she said, ‘Bad woman, unworthy of your crown; I wished to judge for myself whether all I heard of you was true. I have now no doubt of it, and you shall see whether the fairies are to be laughed at.’So saying the fairy Placida (that was her name) blew a little gold whistle, and a chariot appeared drawn by six splendid ostriches. In it was seated the fairy queen, escorted by a dozen other fairies mounted on dragons.All having dismounted, Placida told her adventures, and the fairy queen approved all she had done, and proposed turning Mutinosa into bronze like her horse. Placida, however, who was very kind and gentle, begged for a milder sentence, and at last it was settled that Mutinosa should become her slave for life unless she should have a child to take her place.The king was told of his wife’s fate and submitted to it, which, as he could do nothing to help it, was the only course open to him.The fairies then all dispersed, Placida taking her slave with her, and on reaching her palace she said: ‘You ought by rights to be scullion, but as you have been delicately brought up the change might be too great for you. I shall therefore only order you to sweep my rooms carefully, and to wash and comb my little dog.’Mutinosa felt there was no use in disobeying, so she did as she was bid and said nothing.After some time she gave birth to a most lovely little girl, and when she was well again the fairy gave her a good lecture on her past life, made her promise to behave better in future, and sent her back to the king, her husband.Placida now gave herself up entirely to the little princess who was left in her charge. She anxiously thought over which of the fairies she would invite to be godmothers, so as to secure the best gift, for her adopted child.At last she decided on two very kindly and cheerful fairies, and asked them to the christening feast. Directly it was over the baby was brought to them in a lovely crystal cradle hung with red silk curtains embroidered with gold.The little thing smiled so sweetly at the fairies that they decided to do all they could for her. They began by naming her Graziella, and then Placida said: ‘You know, dear sisters, that the commonest form of spite or punishment amongst us consists of changing beauty to ugliness, cleverness to stupidity, and oftener still to change a person’s form altogether. Now, as we can only each bestow one gift, I think the best plan will be for one of you to give her beauty, the other good understanding, whilst I will undertake that she shall never be changed into any other form.’The two godmothers quite agreed, and as soon as the little princess had received their gifts, they went home, and Placida gave herself up to the child’s education. She succeeded so well with it, and little Graziella grew so lovely, that when she was still quite a child her fame was spread abroad only too much, and one day Placida was surprised by a visit from the Fairy Queen, who was attended by a very grave and severe-looking fairy.The queen began at once: ‘I have been much surprised by your behaviour to Mutinosa; she had insulted our whole race, and deserved punishment. You might forgive your own wrongs if you chose, but not those of others. You treated her very gently whilst she was with you, and I come now to avenge our wrongs on her daughter. You have ensured her being lovely and clever, and not subject to change of form, but I shall place her in an enchanted prison, which she shall never leave till she finds herself in the arms of a lover whom she herself loves. It will be my care to prevent anything of the kind happening.’The enchanted prison was a large high tower in the midst of the sea, built of shells of all shapes and colours. The lower floor was like a great bathroom, where the water was let in or off at will. The first floor contained the princess’s apartments, beautifully furnished. On the second was a library, a large wardrobe-room filled with beautiful clothes and every kind of linen, a music room, a pantry with bins full of the best wines, and a store-room with all manner of preserves, bonbons, pastry and cakes, all of which remained as fresh as if just out of the oven.The top of the tower was laid out like a garden, with beds of the loveliest flowers, fine fruit trees, and shady arbours and shrubs, where many birds sang amongst the branches.The fairies escorted Graziella and her governess, Bonnetta, to the tower, and then mounted a dolphin which was waiting for them. At a little distance from the tower the queen waved her wand and summoned two thousand great fierce sharks, whom she ordered to keep close guard, and not to let a soul enter the tower.The good governess took such pains with Graziella’s education that when she was nearly grown up she was not only most accomplished, but a very sweet, good girl.One day, as the princess was standing on a balcony, she saw the most extraordinary figure rise out of the sea. She quickly called Bonnetta to ask her what it could be. It looked like some kind of man, with a bluish face and long sea-green hair. He was swimming towards the tower, but the sharks took no notice of him.‘It must be a merman,’ said Bonnetta.‘A man, do you say?’ cried Graziella; ‘let us hurry down to the door and see him nearer.’When they stood in the doorway the merman stopped to look at the princess and made many signs of admiration. His voice was very hoarse and husky, but when he found that he was not understood he took to signs. He carried a little basket made of osiers and filled with rare shells, which he presented to the princess.She took it with signs of thanks; but as it was getting dusk she retired, and the merman plunged back into the sea.When they were alone, Graziella said to her governess: ‘What a dreadful-looking creature that was! Why do those odious sharks let him come near the tower? I suppose all men are not like him?’‘No, indeed,’ replied Bonnetta. ‘I suppose the sharks look on him as a sort of relation, and so did not attack him.’A few days later the two ladies heard a strange sort of music, and looking out of the window, there was the merman, his head crowned with water plants, and blowing a great sea-shell with all his might.They went down to the tower door, and Graziella politely accepted some coral and other marine curiosities he had brought her. After this he used to come every evening, and blow his shell, or dive and play antics under the princess’s window. She contented herself with bowing to him from the balcony, but she would not go down to the door in spite of all his signs.Some days later he came with a person of his own kind, but of another sex. Her hair was dressed with great taste, and she had a lovely voice. This new arrival induced the ladies to go down to the door. They were surprised to find that, after trying various languages, she at last spoke to them in their own, and paid Graziella a very pretty compliment on her beauty.The mermaid noticed that the lower floor was full of water. ‘Why,’ cried she, ‘that is just the place for us, for we can’t live quite out of water.’ So saying, she and her brother swam in and took up a position in the bathroom, the princess and her governess seating themselves on the steps which ran round the room.‘No doubt, madam,’ said the mermaid, ‘you have given up living on land so as to escape from crowds of lovers; but I fear that even here you cannot avoid them, for my brother is already dying of love for you, and I am sure that once you are seen in our city he will have many rivals.’She then went on to explain how grieved her brother was not to be able to make himself understood, adding: ‘I interpret for him, having been taught several languages by a fairy.’‘Oh, then, you have fairies, too?’ asked Graziella, with a sigh.‘Yes, we have,’ replied the mermaid; ‘but if I am not mistaken you have suffered from the fairies on earth.’The princess, on this, told her entire history to the mermaid, who assured her how sorry she felt for her, but begged her not to lose courage; adding, as she took her leave: ‘Perhaps, some day, you may find a way out of your difficulties.’The princess was delighted with this visit and with the hopes the mermaid held out. It was something to meet some one fresh to talk to.‘We will make acquaintance with several of these people,’ she said to her governess, ‘and I dare say they are not all as hideous as the first one we saw. Anyhow, we shan’t be so dreadfully lonely.’‘Dear me,’ said Bonnetta, ‘how hopeful young people are to be sure! As for me I feel afraid of these folk. But what do you think of the lover you have captivated?’‘Oh, I could never love him,’ cried the princess; ‘I can’t bear him. But, perhaps, as his sister says they are related to the fairy Marina, they may be of some use to us.’The mermaid often returned, and each time she talked of her brother’s love, and each time Graziella talked of her longing to escape from her prison, till at length the mermaid promised to bring the fairy Marina to see her, in hopes she might suggest something.Next day the fairy came with the mermaid, and the princess received her with delight. After a little talk she begged Graziella to show her the inside of the tower and let her see the garden on the top, for with the help of crutches she could manage to move about, and being a fairy could live out of water for a long time, provided she wetted her forehead now and then.Graziella gladly consented, and Bonnetta stayed below with the mermaid.When they were in the garden the fairy said: ‘Let us lose no time, but tell me how I can be of use to you.’ Graziella then told all her story and Marina replied: ‘My dear princess, I can do nothing for you as regards dry land, for my power does not reach beyond my own element. I can only say that if you will honour my cousin by accepting his hand, you could then come and live amongst us. I could teach you in a moment to swim and dive with the best of us. I can harden your skin without spoiling its colour. My cousin is one of the best matches in the sea, and I will bestow so many gifts on him that you will be quite happy.’The fairy talked so well and so long that the princess was rather impressed, and promised to think the matter over.Just as they were going to leave the garden they saw a ship sailing nearer the tower than any other had done before. On the deck lay a young man under a splendid awning, gazing at the tower through a spy-glass; but before they could see anything clearly the ship moved away, and the two ladies parted, the fairy promising to return shortly.As soon as she was gone Graziella told her governess what she had said. Bonnetta was not at all pleased at the turn matters were taking, for she did not fancy being turned into a mermaid in her old age. She thought the matter well over, and this was what she did. She was a very clever artist, and next morning she began to paint a picture of a handsome young man, with beautiful curly hair, a fine complexion, and lovely blue eyes. When it was finished she showed it to Graziella, hoping it would show her the difference there was between a fine young man and her marine suitor.The princess was much struck by the picture, and asked anxiously whether there could be any man so good-looking in the world. Bonnetta assured her that there were plenty of them; indeed, many far handsomer.‘I can hardly believe that,’ cried the princess; ‘but, alas! if there are, I don’t suppose I shall ever see them or they me, so what is the use? Oh, dear, how unhappy I am!’She spent the rest of the day gazing at the picture, which certainly had the effect of spoiling all the merman’s hopes or prospects.After some days, the fairy Marina came back to hear what was decided; but Graziella hardly paid any attention to her, and showed such dislike to the idea of the proposed marriage that the fairy went off in a regular huff.Without knowing it, the princess had made another conquest. On board the ship which had sailed so near was the handsomest prince in the world. He had heard of the enchanted tower, and determined to get as near it as he could. He had strong glasses on board, and whilst looking through them he saw the princess quite clearly, and fell desperately in love with her at once. He wanted to steer straight for the tower and to row off to it in a small boat, but his entire crew fell at his feet and begged him not to run such a risk. The captain, too, urged him not to attempt it. ‘You will only lead us all to certain death,’ he said. ‘Pray anchor nearer land, and I will then seek a kind fairy I know, who has always been most obliging to me, and who will, I am sure, try to help your Highness.’The prince rather unwillingly listened to reason. He landed at the nearest point, and sent off the captain in all haste to beg the fairy’s advice and help. Meantime he had a tent pitched on the shore, and spent all his time gazing at the tower and looking for the princess through his spy-glass.After a few days the captain came back, bringing the fairy with him. The prince was delighted to see her, and paid her great attention. ‘I have heard about this matter,’ she said; ‘and, to lose no time, I am going to send off a trusty pigeon to test the enchantment. If there is any weak spot he is sure to find it out and get in. I shall bid him bring a flower back as a sign of success, and if he does so I quite hope to get you in too.’‘But,’ asked the prince, ‘could I not send a line by the pigeon to tell the princess of my love?’‘Certainly,’ replied the fairy, ‘it would be a very good plan.’So the prince wrote as follows:—‘Lovely Princess,—I adore you, and beg you to accept my heart, and to believe there is nothing I will not do to end your misfortunes.—Blondel.’This note was tied round the pigeon’s neck, and he flew off with it at once. He flew fast till he got near the tower, when a fierce wind blew so hard against him that he could not get on. But he was not to be beaten, but flew carefully round the top of the tower till he came to one spot which, by some mistake, had not been enchanted like the rest. He quickly slipped into the arbour and waited for the princess.Before long Graziella appeared alone, and the pigeon at once fluttered to meet her, and seemed so tame that she stopped to caress the pretty creature. As she did so she saw it had a pink ribbon round its neck, and tied to the ribbon was a letter. She read it over several times and then wrote this answer:—‘You say you love me; but I cannot promise to love you without seeing you. Send me your portrait by this faithful messenger. If I return it to you, you must give up hope; but if I keep it you will know that to help me will be to help yourself.—Graziella.’Before flying back the pigeon remembered about the flower, so, seeing one in the princess’s dress, he stole it and flew away.The prince was wild with joy at the pigeon’s return with the note. After an hour’s rest the trusty little bird was sent back again, carrying a miniature of the prince, which by good luck he had with him.On reaching the tower the pigeon found the princess in the garden. She hastened to untie the ribbon, and on opening the miniature case what was her surprise and delight to find it very like the picture her governess had painted for her. She hastened to send the pigeon back, and you can fancy the prince’s joy when he found she had kept his portrait.‘Now,’ said the fairy, ‘let us lose no more time. I can only make you happy by changing you into a bird, but I will take care to give you back your proper shape at the right time.’The prince was eager to start, so the fairy, touching him with her wand, turned him into the loveliest humming-bird you ever saw, at the same time letting him keep the power of speech. The pigeon was told to show him the way.Graziella was much surprised to see a perfectly strange bird, and still more so when it flew to her saying, ‘Good-morning, sweet princess.’She was delighted with the pretty creature, and let him perch on her finger, when he said, ‘Kiss, kiss, little birdie,’ which she gladly did, petting and stroking him at the same time.After a time the princess, who had been up very early, grew tired, and as the sun was hot she went to lie down on a mossy bank in the shade of the arbour. She held the pretty bird near her breast, and was just falling asleep, when the fairy contrived to restore the prince to his own shape, so that as Graziella opened her eyes she found herself in the arms of a lover whom she loved in return!At the same moment her enchantment came to an end. The tower began to rock and to split. Bonnetta hurried up to the top so that she might at least perish with her dear princess. Just as she reached the garden, the kind fairy who had helped the prince arrived with the fairy Placida, in a car of Venetian glass drawn by six eagles.‘Come away quickly,’ they cried, ‘the tower is about to sink!’ The prince, princess, and Bonnetta lost no time in stepping into the car, which rose in the air just as, with a terrible crash, the tower sank into the depths of the sea, for the fairy Marina and the mermen had destroyed its foundations to avenge themselves on Graziella. Luckily their wicked plans were defeated, and the good fairies took their way to the kingdom of Graziella’s parents.They found that Queen Mutinosa had died some years ago, but her kind husband lived on peaceably, ruling his country well and happily. He received his daughter with great delight, and there were universal rejoicings at the return of the lovely princess.The wedding took place the very next day, and, for many days after, balls, dinners, tournaments, concerts and all sorts of amusements went on all day and all night.All the fairies were carefully invited, and they came in great state, and promised the young couple their protection and all sorts of good gifts. Prince Blondel and Princess Graziella lived to a good old age, beloved by every one, and loving each other more and more as time went on.
Strange things had been reported in Gloucester. On the eve of King Philip’s War the march of men was heard in its streets and an Indian bow and scalp were seen on the face of the moon, while the boom of cannon and roll of drums were heard at Malden and the windows of Plymouth rattled to the passage of unseen horsemen. But the strangest thing was the arrival on Cape Ann of a force of French and Indians that never could be caught, killed, or crippled, though two regiments were hurried into Gloucester and battled with them for a fortnight. Thus, the rumor went around that these were not an enemy of flesh and blood, but devils who hoped to work a moral perversion of the colony. From 1692, when they appeared, until Salem witchcraft was at an end, Cape Ann was under military and spiritual guard against “the spectre leaguers.”Another version of the episode, based on sworn evidence, has it that Ebenezer Babson, returning late on a summer night, saw two men run from his door and vanish in a field. His family denied that visitors had called, so he gave chase, for he believed the men to have a mischievous intention. As he left the threshold they sprang from behind a log, one saying to the other, “The master of the house is now come, else we might have taken the house,” and again they disappeared in a swamp. Babson woke the guard, and on entering the quarters of the garrison the sound of many feet was heard without, but when the doors were flung open only the two men were visible and they were retreating. Next evening the yeoman was chased by these elusive gentry, who were believed to be scouts of the enemy, for they wore white breeches and waistcoats and carried bright guns.For several nights they appeared, and on the 4th of July half a dozen of them were seen so plainly that the soldiers made a sally, Babson bringing three of “ye unaccountable troublers” to the ground with a single shot, and getting a response in kind, for a bullet hissed by his ear and buried itself in a tree. When the company approached the place where lay the victims of that remarkable shot, behold, they arose and scampered away as blithely as if naught had happened to them. One of the trio was cornered and shot anew, but when they would pick him up he melted into air. There was fierce jabbering in an unknown tongue, through all the swamp, and by the time the garrison had returned the fellows were skulking in the shrubbery again. Richard Dolliver afterward came on eleven of them engaged in incantations and scattered them with a gunshot, but they would not down. They lurked about the cape until terror fell on all the people, remaining for “the best part of a month together,” so it was deemed that “Satan had set ambushments against the good people of Gloucester, with demons in the shape of armed Indians and Frenchmen.”Stones were thrown, barns were beaten with clubs, the marching of unseen hosts was heard after dark, the mockers grew so bold that they ventured close to the redoubtable Babson, gazed scornfully down the barrel of his gun, and laid a charm on the weapon, so that, no matter how often he snapped it at them, it flashed in the pan. Neighboring garrisons were summoned, but all battling with goblins was fruitless. One night a dark and hostile throng emerged from the wood and moved toward the blockhouse, where twenty musketeers were keeping guard. “If you be ghosts or devils I will foil you,” cried the captain, and tearing a silver button from his doublet he rammed it into his gun and fired on the advancing host. Even as the smoke of his musket was blown on the wind, so did the beleaguering army vanish, the silver bullet proving that they were not of human kind. The night was wearing on when a cry went out that the devils were coming again. Arms were laid aside this time, and the watchers sank to their knees in prayer. Directly that the name of God was uttered the marching ceased and heaven rang with the howls of the angry fiends. Never again were leaguers seen in Gloucester.
Once upon a time there was a king who had a three-year old son, and was obliged to go to war against another king. Then, when his ships sailed home again after he had gained a splendid victory, a storm broke out and his whole fleet was near sinking. But the king vowed he would sacrifice to the sea-queen the first male creature that came to meet him when he reached land and entered his capital. Thereby the whole fleet reached the harbor in safety. But the five-year old prince, who had not seen his father for the past two years, and who was delighted with the thunder of the cannon as the ships came in, secretly slipped away from his attendants, and ran to the landing; and when the king came ashore he was the first to cast himself into his arms, weeping with joy. The king was frightened when he thought of the sea-queen; but he thought that, after all, the prince was only a child, and at any rate he could sacrifice the next person to step up to him after the prince. But from that time on no one could make a successful sea-trip, and the people began to murmur because the king had not kept the promise he had made the sea-queen. But the king and queen never allowed the prince out without a great escort, and he was never permitted to enter a ship, for all his desire to do so. After a few years they gradually forgot the sea-queen, and when the prince was ten years old, a little brother came to join him. Not long after the older of the princes was out walking with his tutor and several other gentlemen. And when they reached the end of the royal gardens by the sea-shore—it was a summer’s day, unusually clear—they were suddenly enveloped by a thick cloud, which disappeared as swiftly as it had come. And when it vanished, the prince was no longer there; nor did he return, to the great sorrow of the king, the queen and the whole country. In the meantime the young prince who was now the sole heir to the crown and kingdom grew up; and when he was sixteen, they began to think of finding a wife for him. For the old king and queen wished to see him marry the daughter of some powerful monarch to whom they were allied, before they died. With this in view, letters were written and embassies sent out to the most distant countries.While these negotiations were being conducted, it began to be said that the sea-shore was haunted; various people had heard cries, and several who had walked by the sea-shore late in the evening had fallen ill. At length no one ventured to go there after eleven at night, because a voice kept crying from out at sea: “First born, first wed!” And when some one did venture nearer he did so at the risk of his life. At last these complaints came to the king’s ear; he called together his council, and it was decided to question a wise woman, who had already foretold many mysterious happenings, which had all taken place exactly as she had said they would. When the wise woman was brought before the king she said it was the prince who had been taken into the sea who was calling, and that they would have to find him a bride, young, beautiful, and belonging to one of the noblest families of the land, and she must be no less than fifteen and no more than seventeen years old. That seemed a serious difficulty; for no one wished to give their daughter to a sea-king.Yet, when there was no end to the cries and the commotion, the wise woman said, that first it might be well to build a little house by the sea, perhaps then the turmoil might die away. At any rate, she said, no phantoms would haunt the place while the building was in progress. Hence no more than four workmen need be employed, and they might first prepare a site, then lay the stone foundation, and finally erect the small house, comprising no more than two pleasant, handsome rooms, one behind the other, and a good floor. The house was carefully erected, and the royal architect himself had to superintend the work, so that everything might be done as well as possible. And while the building was going on, there were no mysterious noises, and every one could travel peacefully along the sea-shore. For that reason the four workmen did not hurry with their work; yet not one of them could stay away for a day, because when they did the tumult along the shore would begin again, and one could hear the cries: “First born, first wed!” When the little house was finally completed, the best carpenters came and worked in it, then painters and other craftsmen, and at last it was furnished, because when the work stopped for no more than a single day the cries were heard again by night. The rooms were fitted out as sumptuously as possible, and a great mirror was hung in the drawing-room. According to the instructions of the wise woman, it was hung in such wise that from the bed in the bed-room, even though one’s face were turned to the wall, one could still see who stepped over the threshold into the drawing-room; for the door between each room was always to stand open.When all was finished, and the little house had been arranged with regal splendor, the cries of “First born, first wed!” again began to sound from the shore. And it was found necessary, though all were unwilling, to follow the wise woman’s counsel, and choose three of the loveliest maidens between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, belonging to the first families of the land. They were to be taken to the castle, said the wise woman, and to be treated like ladies of the blood royal, and one after another they were to be sent to the little house by the sea-shore; for should one of them find favor in the eyes of the sea-prince, then the commotion and turmoil would surely cease. In the meantime the negotiations for the marriage of the younger prince were continued, and the bride selected for him was soon expected to arrive. So the girls were also chosen for the sea-prince. The three chosen, as well as their parents, were quite inconsolable over their fate; even the fact that they were to be treated like princesses did not console them; yet had they not yielded it would have been all the worse for them and for the whole land. The first girl destined to sleep in the sea-palace was the oldest, and when she sought out the wise woman, and asked her advice, the latter said she should lie down in the handsome bed; but should turn her face to the wall, and under no circumstances turn around curiously, and try and see what was going on. She had only the right to behold what she saw reflected in the mirror in the drawing-room as she lay with her face to the wall. At ten o’clock that night the royal sea-bride was led with great pomp to the little house.Her relatives and the court said farewell to her with many tears, left her before eleven, locked the door on the outside, and took the keys with them to the castle. The wise woman was also there, consoled the people, and assured them that if the maiden only forbore to speak, and did not turn around, she would come out in the morning fresh and blooming. The poor girl prayed and wept until she grew sleepy; but toward twelve o’clock the outer door suddenly opened, and then the door of the drawing-room. She was startled and filled with fear when, her face turned toward the wall, she saw in the great mirror, how a tall, well-built youth entered, from whose garments the water ran in streams to the floor. He shook himself as though freezing, and said “Uh hu!” Then he went to the window, and there laid down an unusually large and handsome apple, and hung a bottle in the casement. Next he stepped to the bed, bent over the sleeping girl and looked at her, strode up and down a few times, shaking the water from his clothes and saying “Uh hu!” Then he went back to the bed, undressed hurriedly, lay down and fell asleep. The poor girl, had not been sleeping; but had only closed her eyes when the prince bent over her. Now she was glad to think he was fast asleep, and forgot the wise woman’s warning not to turn around. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she wanted to find out if this were a real human being. She turned around softly, lest she wake him; but just as she sat up quietly in bed, in order to take a good look at her neighbor, he swiftly seized her right hand, hewed it off, and flung it under the bed. Then he at once lay down and fell asleep again. As soon as it was day, he rose, dressed without casting even a glance at the bed, took the bottle and the apple from the window, went hastily out and locked the door after him. One can imagine how the poor girl suffered in the meantime, and when her friends and relatives came to fetch her they found her weeping and robbed of her hand. She was brought to the castle and the wise woman sent for, and overwhelmed with bitter reproaches. But she said that if the maiden had not turned around, and had overcome her curiosity, she would not have lost her hand. They were to treat her as though she were really and truly a princess; but that it would be as much as her life were worth to allow her to return to the neighborhood of the little house.The two girls were all the more discouraged by this mishap, and thought themselves condemned to death, though the wise woman consoled them as well as she knew how. The second promised her faithfully not to turn around; yet it happened with her as it had with the first. The prince came in at twelve o’clock dripping, shook himself so that the water flew about, said “Uh hu!” went to the window, laid down the beautiful apple, hung up the bottle, came into the bed-room, bent over the bed, strode up and down a few times, said “Uh hu!” hastily undressed, and at once fell asleep. Her curiosity gained the upper hand, and when she made sure that he was sleeping soundly, she carefully turned around in order to look at him. But he seized her right hand, hewed it off and cast it under the bed, and then laid down again and slept on. At dawn he rose, dressed without casting a glance at the bed, took the apple and the bottle, went out and locked the door after him. When her friends and relatives came to fetch the girl in the morning, they found her weeping and without a right hand. She was taken to the castle, where she found herself just as little welcome as her predecessor, and the wise woman insisted that the girl must have turned around, though at first she denied it absolutely.Then the youngest, sweetest and loveliest of the three maidens had to go to the sea-castle amid the mourning of the entire court. The wise woman accompanied her, and implored her not to turn around; since there was no other means of protection against the spell.The maiden promised to heed her warning, and said that she would pray God to help her if she were plagued with curiosity. All happened as before: the prince came on the stroke of twelve, dripping wet, said “Uh hu!” shook himself, laid the apple on the window, hung up the bottle, went into the bed-room, bent over the bed, strode up and down for a few times, said “Uh hu!” undressed, and at once fell asleep. The poor girl was half-dead with fear and terror, and prayed and struggled against her curiosity till at length she fell asleep, and did not awake until the prince rose and dressed. He stepped up to the bed, bent over it for a moment, went out, turned at the door and took the bottle and the apple, and then locked the door after him. In the morning the entire court, the girl’s parents and the wise woman came to fetch her. She came to meet them weeping with joy, and was conducted to the castle in triumph and with joy indescribable. The king and queen embraced her, and she was paid the same honors destined for the princess who was to arrive in the course of the next few days to marry the heir to the throne. Now the maiden had to sleep every night in the little house by the strand, and every evening the prince came in with his apple and his bottle, and every morning went away at dawn. But it seemed to her that each succeeding evening and morning he looked at her a little longer; though she, always silent, timid, and turned toward the wall, did not dare see more than her mirror showed her of his coming and going. But the two other girls, who had lost their hands, and who now no longer lived in the castle, were jealous of the honor shown the youngest, and threatened to have her done away with if she did not restore their hands. The maiden went weeping to the wise woman; and the latter said that when the prince had lain down as usual she should say—keeping her face turned toward the wall:But she was to offer no further information nor say another word. With a beating heart the poor girl waited until the prince came, and when he had bent over the bed longer than usual, sighed, then hastily undressed and lain down, the maiden said, quivering and trembling:The prince at once replied: “Take the hands—they are lying under the bed—and the bottle hanging in the window, and pour some of the contents of the bottle on their arms and hands, join them together, bind them up, take away the bandages in three days’ time and the hands will have been healed!” The maiden made no reply and fell asleep. In the morning the prince rose as usual, stepped over to the bed several times and looked at her from its foot; but she did not dare look up, and closed her eyes. He sighed, took his apple; but left the bottle, and went. When the maiden rose she did as he had told her, and in three days’ time removed the bandages, and the girls’ hands were well and whole.Now the foreign princess arrived and the wedding was to be celebrated as soon as possible. Yet she was not fitted out with any more magnificence than the bride of the sea-prince, and both were equally honored by the king and court. This annoyed the two other girls, and they again threatened to have the youngest done away with if she did not let them taste the apple which the prince always brought with him. Again the maiden sought the advice of the wise woman, in whom she had confidence. And that night, when the prince had lain down, she said:Then the prince said: “Take the apple lying in the window, and when you go out, lay it on the ground and follow wherever it may roll. And when it stops, pick as many apples as you wish, and return the same way you came.” The maiden made no reply, and fell asleep. On the following morning it seemed harder than ever for the prince to resolve to go away. He appeared excited and restless, sighed often, bent over the maiden several times, went into the living room, then turned around and looked at her once more. Finally, when the sun rose, he hurried out and locked the door after him. When the maiden rose, she could not help weeping, for she had really begun to love the prince.Then she took the apple, and when she was outside the door, laid it on the ground, and it rolled and rolled, and she followed it, a long, long way, to a region unknown to her. There she came to a high garden wall, over which hung the branches of trees, loaded with beautiful fruit. Finally she reached a great portal, adorned with gold and splendid ornaments, which opened of its own accord as the apple rolled up to it. And the apple rolled through the portal and the maiden followed it into the garden, which was the most beautiful she ever had seen. The apple rolled over to a low-growing tree weighed with the most magnificent apples, and there it stopped. The maiden picked all that her silken apron would hold, and turned to see from which direction she had come, and where the portal stood through which she would have to pass on her way back. But the garden was so lovely that she felt like enjoying its charms a while longer, and without thinking of the prince’s words, she touched the apple with her foot, and it began to roll again. Suddenly the portal closed with a great crash. Then the maiden was much frightened, and regretted having done what had been forbidden her; yet now she could not get out, and was compelled to follow the apple once more. It rolled far into the beautiful garden and stopped at a little fire-place, where stood two kettles of water, one small, the other large. There was a great fire burning under the large kettle; but only a weak fire beneath the smaller one. Now when the apple stopped there the maiden did not know what to do. Then it occurred to her to scrape away the fire beneath the large kettle and thrust it under the little one; and soon the kettle over the small fire began to boil and the kettle over the large one simmered down. But she could not stay there. And since she had already disobeyed the order given her, she expected to die, nothing less, and was quite resigned to do so, because she had lost all hope of winning the prince.So she gave the apple another push, and it rolled into a meadow in the middle of the garden, and there lay two little children, asleep, with the hot sun beating straight down upon them. The maiden felt sorry for the children, and she took her apron and laid it over them to protect them from the sun, and only kept the apples she could put in her little basket. But she could not stay here either, so again she touched the apple, and it rolled on and before she knew it the girl found herself by the sea-shore. There, under a shady tree lay the prince asleep; while beside him sat the sea-queen. Both rose when the maiden drew near, and the prince looked at her with alarm and tenderness in his flashing eyes. Then he leaped into the sea, and the white foam closed over him. But the sea-queen was enraged and seized the girl, who thought that her last moment had struck, and begged for a merciful death. The sea-queen looked at her, and asked her who had given her permission to pass beyond the apple-tree. The maiden confessed her disobedience, and said that she had done so without meaning any harm, whereupon the sea-queen said she would see how she had conducted herself and punish her accordingly. Thereupon the sea-queen gave the apple a push, and it rolled back through the portal to the apple-tree. The sea-queen saw that the apple-tree was uninjured, again pushed the apple and it rolled on to the little fire-place. But when the sea-queen saw the small kettle boiling furiously, while the large one was growing cold, she became very angry, seized the girl’s arm savagely and rising to her full height, asked: “What have you dared do here? How dared you take the fire from under my kettle and put it under your own?” The maiden did not know that she had done anything wrong, and said that she did not know why. Then the sea-queen replied: “The large kettle signified the love between the prince and myself; the small one the love between the prince and you. Since you have taken the fire from under my kettle and laid it under your own, the prince is now violently in love with you, while his love for me is well-nigh extinguished. “Look,” she cried, angrily, “now my kettle has stopped boiling altogether, and yours is boiling over! But I will see what other harm you have done and punish you accordingly.” And the sea-queen again pushed the apple with her foot, and it rolled to the sleeping children, who had been covered with the apron. Then the sea-queen said: “Did you do that?” “Yes,” replied the maiden, weeping, “but I meant no harm. I covered the little ones with my apron so that the sun might not burn down on them so fiercely, and I left with them the apples I could not put in my basket.” The sea-queen said: “This deed and your truthfulness are your salvation. I see that you have a kind heart. These children belong to me and to the prince; but since he now loves you more than he does me, I will resign him to you. Go back to the castle and there say what I tell you: that your wedding with my prince is to be celebrated at the same time as that of his younger brother. And all your jewels, your ornaments, your wedding-dress and your bridal chair, are to be exactly like those of the other princess. From the moment on that the priest blesses the prince and yourself I have no further power over him. But since I have seen to it that he has all the qualities which adorn a ruler, I demand that he be made the heir to his father’s kingdom; for he is the oldest son. The younger prince may rule over the kingdom which his bride brings him. All this you must tell them, for only under these conditions will I release the prince. And when you are arrayed in your bridal finery, come to me here, without anyone’s knowledge, so that I may see how they have adorned you. Here is the apple which will show you the way without any one being able to tell where you go.” With that the sea-queen parted from her, and gave the apple a push. It rolled out of the garden and to the castle, where the maiden, with mingled joy and terror, delivered the sea-queen’s message to the king, and told him what she demanded for the prince. The king gladly promised all that was desired, and great preparations were at once made for the double wedding. Two bridal chairs were set up side by side, two wedding gowns, and two sets of jewels exactly similar were made ready. When the maiden had been dressedin her bridal finery she pretended to have forgotten something, which she had to fetch from a lower floor, went downstairs with her apple, and laid it on the ground. It at once rolled to the spot by the sea-shore where she had found the sea-queen and the prince, and where the sea-queen was now awaiting her. “It is well that you have come,” said the sea-queen, “for the slightest disobedience would have meant misfortune for you! But how do you look? Are you dressed just as the princess is? And has the princess no better clothes or jewels?” The maiden answered timidly, that they were dressed exactly alike. Then the sea-queen tore her gown from her body, unclasped the jewels from her hair and flinging them on the ground cried: “Is that the way the bride of my prince should look! Since I have given him to you I will give you my bridal outfit as well.”“A shine adorned with gold and precious stones appeared.” Illustration by George W. Hood. Published in The Swedish Fairy Book by Klara Strobe (1921), Fredrick A. Stokes Company.And with that she raised up a sod beneath the great tree, and a shrine adorned with gold and precious stones appeared, from which she drew out her bridal outfit, which fitted the maiden as though made for her. And it was so costly and so covered with gems that the maiden was almost blinded by its radiance. The crown, too, glowed with light, and was set with the most wonderful emeralds, and all was magnificent beyond what any princess had ever worn. “Now,” said the sea-queen, when she had finished adorning the maiden, “now go back to the castle, and show them how I was dressed when I wedded the prince. All this I give as a free gift to you and your descendants; but you must always conduct yourself so that the prince will be content with you, and you must make his happiness your first thought all your life long.”This the maiden promised, with honest tears, and the sea-queen bade her go. When she was again in the castle, all were astonished at the beauty and costliness of her dress and jewels, in comparison to which those of the other princess were as nothing. The treasures of the whole kingdom would not have sufficed to pay for such a bridal outfit. And none any longer dared envy the lovely maiden, for never had a princess brought a richer bridal dower into the country. Now all went in solemn procession to the church, and the priests stood before the bridal chairs with their books open, and waited for the prince who, according to the sea-queen’s word, would not come until the blessing was to be spoken. They waited impatiently, and the king finally told one of the greatest nobles to seat himself in the bridal chair in the prince’s place, which he did. But the very moment the priest began to pray, the two wings of the church portal quickly flew open, and a tall, strong, handsome man with flashing eyes, royally clad, came in, stepped up to the bridal chair, thrust his proxy out so hastily that he nearly fell, and cried: “This is my place! Now, priest, speak the blessing!” While the blessing was spoken the prince became quiet again, and then greeted his parents and the whole court with joy, and before all embraced his wife, who now for the first time ventured to take a good look at him. Thenceforward the prince was like any other human being, and in the end he inherited his father’s kingdom, and became a great and world-renowned ruler, beloved by his subjects, and adored by his wife. They lived long and happily, and their descendants are still the rulers of the land over which he reigned.
Manstin was an adventurous brave, but very kind-hearted. Stamping a moccasined foot as he drew on his buckskin leggins, he said: “Grandmother, beware of Iktomi! Do not let him lure you into some cunning trap. I am going to the North country on a long hunt.”With these words of caution to the bent old rabbit grandmother with whom he had lived since he was a tiny babe, Manstin started off toward the north. He was scarce over the great high hills when he heard the shrieking of a human child.“Wan!” he ejaculated, pointing his long ears toward the direction of the sound; “Wan! that is the work of cruel Double-Face. Shameless coward! he delights in torturing helpless creatures!”Muttering indistinct words, Manstin ran up the last hill and lo! in the ravine beyond stood the terrible monster with a face in front and one in the back of his head!This brown giant was without clothes save for a wild-cat-skin about his loins. With a wicked gleaming eye, he watched the little black-haired baby he held in his strong arm. In a laughing voice he hummed an Indian mother’s lullaby, “A-boo! Aboo!” and at the same time he switched the naked baby with a thorny wild-rose bush.Quickly Manstin jumped behind a large sage bush on the brow of the hill. He bent his bow and the sinewy string twanged. Now an arrow stuck above the ear of Double-Face. It was a poisoned arrow, and the giant fell dead. Then Manstin took the little brown baby and hurried away from the ravine. Soon he came to a teepee from whence loud wailing voices broke. It was the teepee of the stolen baby and the mourners were its heart-broken parents.When gallant Manstin returned the child to the eager arms of the mother there came a sudden terror into the eyes of both the Dakotas. They feared lest it was Double-Face come in a new guise to torture them. The rabbit understood their fear and said: “I am Manstin, the kind-hearted,—Manstin, the noted huntsman. I am your friend. Do not fear.”That night a strange thing happened. While the father and mother slept, Manstin took the wee baby. With his feet placed gently yet firmly upon the tiny toes of the little child, he drew upward by each small hand the sleeping child till he was a full-grown man. With a forefinger he traced a slit in the upper lip; and when on the morrow the man and woman awoke they could not distinguish their own son from Manstin, so much alike were the braves.“Henceforth we are friends, to help each other,” said Manstin, shaking a right hand in farewell. “The earth is our common ear, to carry from its uttermost extremes one’s slightest wish for the other!”“Ho! Be it so!” answered the newly made man.Upon leaving his friend, Manstin hurried away toward the North country whither he was bound for a long hunt. Suddenly he came upon the edge of a wide brook. His alert eye caught sight of a rawhide rope staked to the water’s brink, which led away toward a small round hut in the distance. The ground was trodden into a deep groove beneath the loosely drawn rawhide rope.“Hun-he!” exclaimed Manstin, bending over the freshly made footprints in the moist bank of the brook. “A man’s footprints!” he said to himself. “A blind man lives in yonder hut! This rope is his guide by which he comes for his daily water!” surmised Manstin, who knew all the peculiar contrivances of the people. At once his eyes became fixed upon the solitary dwelling and hither he followed his curiosity,—a real blind man’s rope.Quietly he lifted the door-flap and entered in. An old toothless grandfather, blind and shaky with age, sat upon the ground. He was not deaf however. He heard the entrance and felt the presence of some stranger.“How, grandchild,” he mumbled, for he was old enough to be grandparent to every living thing, “how! I cannot see you. Pray, speak your name!”“Grandfather, I am Manstin,” answered the rabbit, all the while looking with curious eyes about the wigwam.“Grandfather, what is it so tightly packed in all these buckskin bags placed against the tent poles?” he asked.“My grandchild, those are dried buffalo meat and venison. These are magic bags which never grow empty. I am blind and cannot go on a hunt. Hence a kind Maker has given me these magic bags of choicest foods.”Then the old, bent man pulled at a rope which lay by his right hand. “This leads me to the brook where I drink! and this,” said he, turning to the one on his left, “and this takes me into the forest, where I feel about for dry sticks for my fire.”“Grandfather, I wish I lived in such sure luxury! I would lean back against a tent pole, and with crossed feet I would smoke sweet willow bark the rest of my days,” sighed Manstin.“My grandchild, your eyes are your luxury! you would be unhappy without them!” the old man replied.“Grandfather, I would give you my two eyes for your place!” cried Manstin.“How! you have said it. Arise. Take out your eyes and give them to me. Henceforth you are at home here in my stead.”At once Manstin took out both his eyes and the old man put them on! Rejoicing, the old grandfather started away with his young eyes while the blind rabbit filled his dream pipe, leaning lazily against the tent pole. For a short time it was a most pleasant pastime to smoke willow bark and to eat from the magic bags.Manstin grew thirsty, but there was no water in the small dwelling. Taking one of the rawhide ropes he started toward the brook to quench his thirst. He was young and unwilling to trudge slowly in the old man’s footpath. He was full of glee, for it had been many long moons since he had tasted such good food. Thus he skipped confidently along jerking the old weather-eaten rawhide spasmodically till all of a sudden it gave way and Manstin fell headlong into the water.“En! En!” he grunted kicking frantically amid stream. All along the slippery bank he vainly tried to climb, till at last he chanced upon the old stake and the deeply worn footpath. Exhausted and inwardly disgusted with his mishaps, he crawled more cautiously on all fours to his wigwam door. Dripping with his recent plunge he sat with chattering teeth within his unfired wigwam.The sun had set and the night air was chilly, but there was no fire-wood in the dwelling. “Hin!” murmured Manstin and bravely tried the other rope. “I go for some fire-wood!” he said, following the rawhide rope which led into the forest. Soon he stumbled upon thickly strewn dry willow sticks. Eagerly with both hands he gathered the wood into his outspread blanket. Manstin was naturally an energetic fellow.When he had a large heap, he tied two opposite ends of blanket together and lifted the bundle of wood upon his back, but alas! he had unconsciously dropped the end of the rope and now he was lost in the wood!“Hin! hin!” he groaned. Then pausing a moment, he set his fan-like ears to catch any sound of approaching footsteps. There was none. Not even a night bird twittered to help him out of his predicament.With a bold face, he made a start at random.He fell into some tangled wood where he was held fast. Manstin let go his bundle and began to lament having given away his two eyes.“Friend, my friend, I have need of you! The old oak tree grandfather has gone off with my eyes and I am lost in the woods!” he cried with his lips close to the earth.Scarcely had he spoken when the sound of voices was audible on the outer edge of the forest. Nearer and louder grew the voices—one was the clear flute tones of a young brave and the other the tremulous squeaks of an old grandfather.It was Manstin’s friend with the Earth Ear and the old grandfather. “Here Manstin, take back your eyes,” said the old man, “I knew you would not be content in my stead, but I wanted you to learn your lesson. I have had pleasure seeing with your eyes and trying your bow and arrows, but since I am old and feeble I much prefer my own teepee and my magic bags!”Thus talking the three returned to the hut. The old grandfather crept into his wigwam, which is often mistaken for a mere oak tree by little Indian girls and boys.Manstin, with his own bright eyes fitted into his head again, went on happily to hunt in the North country.
Once there was a very poor man, named Haamdaa′nee, who begged from door to door for his living, sometimes taking things before they were offered him. After a while people became suspicious of him, and stopped giving him anything, in order to keep him away from their houses. So at last he was reduced to the necessity of going every morning to the village dust heap, and picking up and eating the few grains of the tiny little millet seed that he might find there.One day, as he was scratching and turning over the heap, he found a dime, which he tied up in a corner of his ragged dress, and continued to hunt for millet grains, but could not find one. “Oh, well,” said he, “I’ve got a dime now; I’m pretty well fixed. I’ll go home and take a nap instead of a meal.”So he went to his hut, took a drink of water, put some tobacco in his mouth, and went to sleep.The next morning, as he scratched in the dust heap, he saw a countryman going along, carrying a basket made of twigs, and he called to him: “Hi, there, countryman! What have you in that cage?”The countryman, whose name was Moohaad′eem, replied, “Gazelles.”And Haamdaanee called: “Bring them here. Let me see them.”Now there were three well-to-do men standing near; and when they saw the countryman coming to Haamdaanee they smiled, and said, “You’re taking lots of trouble for nothing, Moohaadeem.”“How’s that, gentlemen?” he inquired.“Why,” said they, “that poor fellow has nothing at all. Not a cent.”“Oh, I don’t know that,” said the countryman; “he may have plenty, for all I know.”“Not he,” said they.“Don’t you see for yourself,” continued one of them, “that he is on the dust heap? Every day he scratches there like a hen, trying to get enough grains of millet to keep himself alive. If he had any money, wouldn’t he buy a square meal, for once in his life? Do you think he would want to buy a gazelle? What would he do with it? He can’t find enough food for himself, without looking for any for a gazelle.”But Moohaadeem said: “Gentlemen, I have brought some goods here to sell. I answer all who call me, and if any one says ‘Come,’ I go to him. I don’t favor one and slight another; therefore, as this man called me, I’m going to him.”“All right,” said the first man; “you don’t believe us. Well, we know where he lives, and all about him, and we know that he can’t buy anything.”“That’s so,” said the second man. “Perhaps, however, you will see that we were right, after you have a talk with him.”To which the third man added, “Clouds are a sign of rain, but we have seen no signs of his being about to spend any money.”“All right, gentlemen,” said Moohaadeem; “many better-looking people than he call me, and when I show them my gazelles they say, ‘Oh, yes, they’re very beautiful, but awfully dear; take them away.’ So I shall not be disappointed if this man says the same thing. I shall go to him, anyhow.”Then one of the three men said, “Let us go with this man, and see what the beggar will buy.”“Pshaw!” said another; “buy! You talk foolishly. He has not had a good meal in three years, to my knowledge; and a man in his condition doesn’t have money to buy gazelles. However, let’s go; and if he makes this poor countryman carry his load over there just for the fun of looking at the gazelles, let each of us give him a good hard whack with our walking-sticks, to teach him how to behave toward honest merchants.”So, when they came near him, one of those three men said: “Well, here are the gazelles; now buy one. Here they are, you old hypocrite; you’ll feast your eyes on them, but you can’t buy them.”But Haamdaanee, paying no attention to the men, said to Moohaadeem, “How much for one of your gazelles?”Then another of those men broke in: “You’re very innocent, aren’t you? You know, as well as I do, that gazelles are sold every day at two for a quarter.”Still taking no notice of these outsiders, Haamdaanee continued, “I’d like to buy one for a dime.”“One for a dime!” laughed the men; “of course you’d like to buy one for a dime. Perhaps you’d also like to have the dime to buy with.”Then one of them gave him a push on the cheek.At this Haamdaanee turned and said: “Why do you push me on the cheek, when I’ve done nothing to you? I do not know you. I call this man, to transact some business with him, and you, who are strangers, step in to spoil our trade.”He then untied the knot in the corner of his ragged coat, produced the dime, and, handing it to Moohaadeem, said, “Please, good man, let me have a gazelle for that.”At this, the countryman took a small gazelle out of the cage and handed it to him, saying, “Here, master, take this one. I call it Keejee′paa.” Then turning to those three men, he laughed, and said: “Ehe! How’s this? You, with your white robes, and turbans, and swords, and daggers, and sandals on your feet—you gentlemen of property, and no mistake—you told me this man was too poor to buy anything; yet he has bought a gazelle for a dime, while you fine fellows, I think, haven’t enough money among you to buy half a gazelle, if they were five cents each.”Then Moohaadeem and the three men went their several ways.As for Haamdaanee, he stayed at the dust heap until he found a few grains of millet for himself and a few for Keejeepaa, the gazelle, and then went to his hut, spread his sleeping mat, and he and the gazelle slept together.This going to the dust heap for a few grains of millet and then going home to bed continued for about a week.Then one night Haamdaanee was awakened by some one calling, “Master!” Sitting up, he answered: “Here I am. Who calls?” The gazelle answered, “I do!”Upon this, the beggar man became so scared that he did not know whether he should faint or get up and run away.Seeing him so overcome, Keejeepaa asked, “Why, master, what’s the matter?”“Oh, gracious!” he gasped; “what a wonder I see!”“A wonder?” said the gazelle, looking all around; “why, what is this wonder, that makes you act as if you were all broken up?”“Why, it’s so wonderful, I can hardly believe I’m awake!” said his master. “Who in the world ever before knew of a gazelle that could speak?”“Oho!” laughed Keejeepaa; “is that all? There are many more wonderful things than that. But now, listen, while I tell you why I called you.”“Certainly; I’ll listen to every word,” said the man. “I can’t help listening!”“Well, you see, it’s just this way,” said Keejeepaa; “I’ve allowed you to become my master, and I can not run away from you; so I want you to make an agreement with me, and I will make you a promise, and keep it.”“Say on,” said his master.“Now,” continued the gazelle, “one doesn’t have to be acquainted with you long, in order to discover that you are very poor. This scratching a few grains of millet from the dust heap every day, and managing to subsist upon them, is all very well for you—you’re used to it, because it’s a matter of necessity with you; but if I keep it up much longer, you won’t have any gazelle—Keejeepaa will die of starvation. Therefore, I want to go away every day and feed on my own kind of food; and I promise you I will return every evening.”“Well, I guess I’ll have to give my consent,” said the man, in no very cheerful tone.As it was now dawn, Keejeepaa jumped up and ran out of the door, Haamdaanee following him. The gazelle ran very fast, and his master stood watching him until he disappeared. Then tears started in the man’s eyes, and, raising his hands, he cried, “Oh, my mother!” Then he cried, “Oh, my father!” Then he cried, “Oh, my gazelle! It has run away!”Some of his neighbors, who heard him carrying on in this manner, took the opportunity to inform him that he was a fool, an idiot, and a dissipated fellow.Said one of them: “You hung around that dust heap, goodness knows how long, scratching like a hen, till fortune gave you a dime. You hadn’t sense enough to go and buy some decent food; you had to buy a gazelle. Now you’ve let the creature run away. What are you crying about? You brought all your trouble on yourself.”All this, of course, was very comforting to Haamdaanee, who slunk off to the dust heap, got a few grains of millet, and came back to his hut, which now seemed meaner and more desolate than ever.At sunset, however, Keejeepaa came trotting in; and the beggar was happy again, and said, “Ah, my friend, you have returned to me.”“Of course,” said the gazelle; “didn’t I promise you? You see, I feel that when you bought me you gave all the money you had in the world, even though it was only a dime. Why, then, should I grieve you? I couldn’t do it. If I go and get myself some food, I’ll always come back evenings.”When the neighbors saw the gazelle come home every evening and run off every morning, they were greatly surprised, and began to suspect that Haamdaanee was a wizard.Well, this coming and going continued for five days, the gazelle telling its master each night what fine places it had been to, and what lots of food it had eaten.On the sixth day it was feeding among some thorn bushes in a thick wood, when, scratching away some bitter grass at the foot of a big tree, it saw an immense diamond of intense brightness.“Oho!” said Keejeepaa, in great astonishment; “here’s property, and no mistake! This is worth a kingdom! If I take it to my master he will be killed; for, being a poor man, if they say to him, ‘Where did you get it?’ and he answers, ‘I picked it up,’ they will not believe him; if he says, ‘It was given to me,’ they will not believe him either. It will not do for me to get my master into difficulties. I know what I’ll do. I’ll seek some powerful person; he will use it properly.”So Keejeepaa started off through the forest, holding the diamond in his mouth, and ran, and ran, but saw no town that day; so he slept in the forest, and arose at dawn and pursued his way. And the second day passed like the first.On the third day the gazelle had traveled from dawn until between eight and nine o’clock, when he began to see scattered houses, getting larger in size, and knew he was approaching a town. In due time he found himself in the main street of a large city, leading direct to the sultan’s palace, and began to run as fast as he could. People passing along stopped to look at the strange sight of a gazelle running swiftly along the main street with something wrapped in green leaves between its teeth.The sultan was sitting at the door of his palace, when Keejeepaa, stopping a little way off, dropped the diamond from its mouth, and, lying down beside it, panting, called out: “Ho, there! Ho, there!” which is a cry every one makes in that part of the world when wishing to enter a house, remaining outside until the cry is answered.After the cry had been repeated several times, the sultan said to his attendants, “Who is doing all that calling?”And one answered, “Master, it’s a gazelle that’s calling, ‘Ho, there!’”“Ho-ho!” said the sultan; “Ho-ho! Invite the gazelle to come near.”Then three attendants ran to Keejeepaa and said: “Come, get up. The sultan commands you to come near.”So the gazelle arose, picked up the diamond, and, approaching the sultan, laid the jewel at his feet, saying, “Master, good afternoon!” To which the sultan replied: “May God make it good! Come near.”The sultan ordered his attendants to bring a carpet and a large cushion, and desired the gazelle to rest upon them. When it protested that it was comfortable as it was, he insisted, and Keejeepaa had to allow himself to be made a very honored guest. Then they brought milk and rice, and the sultan would hear nothing until the gazelle had fed and rested.At last, when everything had been disposed of, the sultan said, “Well, now, my friend, tell me what news you bring.”And Keejeepaa said: “Master, I don’t exactly know how you will like the news I bring. The fact is, I’m sent here to insult you! I’ve come to try and pick a quarrel with you! In fact, I’m here to propose a family alliance with you!”At this the sultan exclaimed: “Oh, come! for a gazelle, you certainly know how to talk! Now, the fact of it is, I’m looking for some one to insult me. I’m just aching to have some one pick a quarrel with me. I’m impatient for a family alliance. Go on with your message.”Then Keejeepaa said, “You don’t bear any ill will against me, who am only a messenger?”And the sultan said, “None at all.”“Well,” said Keejeepaa, “look at this pledge I bring;” dropping the diamond wrapped in leaves into the sultan’s lap.When the sultan opened the leaves and saw the great, sparkling jewel, he was overcome with astonishment. At last he said, “Well?”“I have brought this pledge,” said the gazelle, “from my master, Sultan Daaraa′ee. He has heard that you have a daughter, so he sent you this jewel, hoping you will forgive him for not sending something more worthy of your acceptance than this trifle.”“Goodness!” said the sultan to himself; “he calls this a trifle!” Then to the gazelle: “Oh, that’s all right; that’s all right. I’m satisfied. The Sultan Daaraaee has my consent to marry my daughter, and I don’t want a single thing from him. Let him come empty-handed. If he has more of these trifles, let him leave them at home. This is my message, and I hope you will make it perfectly clear to your master.” The gazelle assured him that he would explain everything satisfactorily, adding: “And now, master, I take my leave. I go straight to our own town, and hope that in about eleven days we shall return to be your guests.” So, with mutual compliments, they parted.In the meantime, Haamdaanee was having an exceedingly tough time. Keejeepaa having disappeared, he wandered about the town moaning, “Oh, my poor gazelle! my poor gazelle!” while the neighbors laughed and jeered at him, until, between them and his loss, he was nearly out of his mind.But one evening, when he had gone to bed, Keejeepaa walked in. Up he jumped, and began to embrace the gazelle, and weep over it, and carry on at a great rate.When he thought there had been about enough of this kind of thing, the gazelle said: “Come, come; keep quiet, my master. I’ve brought you good news.” But the beggar man continued to cry and fondle, and declare that he had thought his gazelle was dead.At last Keejeepaa said: “Oh, well, master, you see I’m all right. You must brace up, and prepare to hear my news, and do as I advise you.”“Go on; go on,” replied his master; “explain what you will, I’ll do whatever you require me to do. If you were to say, ‘Lie down on your back, that I may roll you over the side of the hill,’ I would lie down.”“Well,” said the gazelle, “there is not much to explain just now, but I’ll tell you this: I’ve seen many kinds of food, food that is desirable and food that is objectionable, but this food I’m about to offer you is very sweet indeed.”“What?” said Haamdaanee. “Is it possible that in this world there is anything that is positively good? There must be good and bad in everything. Food that is both sweet and bitter is good food, but if food were nothing but sweetness would it not be injurious?”“H’m!” yawned the gazelle; “I’m too tired to talk philosophy. Let’s go to sleep now, and when I call you in the morning, all you have to do is to get up and follow me.”So at dawn they set forth, the gazelle leading the way, and for five days they journeyed through the forest.On the fifth day they came to a stream, and Keejeepaa said to his master, “Lie down here.” When he had done so, the gazelle set to and beat him so soundly that he cried out: “Oh, let up, I beg of you!”“Now,” said the gazelle, “I’m going away, and when I return I expect to find you right here; so don’t you leave this spot on any account.” Then he ran away, and about ten o’clock that morning he arrived at the house of the sultan. Now, ever since the day Keejeepaa left the town, soldiers had been placed along the road to watch for and announce the approach of Sultan Daaraaee; so one of them, when he saw the gazelle in the distance, rushed up and cried to the sultan, “Sultan Daaraaee is coming! I’ve seen the gazelle running as fast as it can in this direction.”The sultan and his attendants immediately set out to meet his guests; but when they had gone a little way beyond the town they met the gazelle coming along alone, who, on reaching the sultan, said, “Good day, my master.” The sultan replied in kind, and asked the news, but Keejeepaa said: “Ah, do not ask me. I can scarcely walk, and my news is bad!”“Why, how is that?” asked the sultan.“Oh, dear!” sighed the gazelle; “such misfortune and misery! You see, Sultan Daaraaee and I started alone to come here, and we got along all right until we came to the thick part of the forest yonder, when we were met by robbers, who seized my master, bound him, beat him, and took everything he had, even stripping off every stitch of his clothing. Oh, dear! oh, dear!”“Dear me!” said the sultan; “we must attend to this at once.” So, hurrying back with his attendants to his house, he called a groom, to whom he said, “Saddle the best horse in my stable, and put on him my finest harness.” Then he directed a woman servant to open the big inlaid chest and bring him a bag of clothes. When she brought it he picked out a loin-cloth, and a long white robe, and a black overjacket, and a shawl for the waist, and a turban cloth, all of the very finest. Then he sent for a curved sword with a gold hilt, and a curved dagger with gold filigree, and a pair of elegant sandals, and a fine walking-cane. Then the sultan said to Keejeepaa, “Take some of my soldiers, and let them convey these things to Sultan Daaraaee, that he may dress himself and come to me.”But the gazelle answered: “Ah, my master, can I take these soldiers with me and put Sultan Daaraaee to shame? There he lies, beaten and robbed, and I would not have any one see him. I can take everything by myself.”“Why,” exclaimed the sultan, “here is a horse, and there are clothes and arms. I don’t see how a little gazelle can manage all those things.”But the gazelle had them fasten everything on the horse’s back, and tie the end of the bridle around his own neck, and then he set off alone, amidst the wonder and admiration of the people of that city, high and low.When he arrived at the place where he had left the beggar-man, he found him lying waiting for him, and overjoyed at his return.“Now,” said he, “I have brought you the sweet food I promised. Come, get up and bathe yourself.”With the hesitation of a person long unaccustomed to such a thing, the man stepped into the stream and began to wet himself a little.“Oh,” said the gazelle, impatiently, “a little water like that won’t do you much good; get out into the deep pool.”“Dear me!” said the man, timidly; “there is so much water there; and where there is much water there are sure to be horrible animals.”“Animals! What kind of animals?”“Well, crocodiles, water lizards, snakes, and, at any rate, frogs; and they bite people, and I’m terribly afraid of all of them.”“Oh, well,” said Keejeepaa, “do the best you can in the stream; but rub yourself well with earth, and, for goodness’ sake, scrub your teeth well with sand; they are awfully dirty.”So the man obeyed, and soon made quite a change in his appearance.Then the gazelle said: “Here, hurry up and put on these things. The sun has gone down, and we ought to have started before this.”So the man dressed himself in the fine clothes the sultan had sent, and then he mounted the horse, and they started; the gazelle trotting on ahead.When they had gone some distance, the gazelle stopped, and said, “See here: nobody who sees you now would suspect that you are the man who scratched in the dust heap yesterday. Even if we were to go back to our town the neighbors would not recognize you, if it were only for the fact that your face is clean and your teeth are white. Your appearance is all right, but I have a caution to give you. Over there, where we are going, I have procured for you the sultan’s daughter for a wife, with all the usual wedding gifts. Now, you must keep quiet. Say nothing except, ‘How d’ye do?’ and ‘What’s the news?’ Let me do the talking.”“All right,” said the man; “that suits me exactly.”“Do you know what your name is?”“Of course I do.”“Indeed? Well, what is it?”“Why, my name is Haamdaanee.”“Not much,” laughed Keejeepaa; “your name is Sultan Daaraaee.”“Oh, is it?” said his master. “That’s good.”So they started forward again, and in a little while they saw soldiers running in every direction, and fourteen of these joined them to escort them. Then they saw ahead of them the sultan, and the vizirs, and the emirs, and the judges, and the great men of the city, coming to meet them.“Now, then,” said Keejeepaa, “get off your horse and salute your father-in-law. That’s him in the middle, wearing the sky-blue jacket.”“All right,” said the man, jumping off his horse, which was then led by a soldier.So the two met, and the sultans shook hands, and kissed each other, and walked up to the palace together.Then they had a great feast, and made merry and talked until night, at which time Sultan Daaraaee and the gazelle were put into an inner room, with three soldiers at the door to guard and attend upon them.When the morning came, Keejeepaa went to the sultan and said: “Master, we wish to attend to the business which brought us here. We want to marry your daughter, and the sooner the ceremony takes place, the better it will please the Sultan Daaraaee.”“Why, that’s all right,” said the sultan; “the bride is ready. Let some one call the teacher, Mwaalee′moo, and tell him to come at once.”When Mwaaleemoo arrived, the sultan said, “See here, we want you to marry this gentleman to my daughter right away.”“All right; I’m ready,” said the teacher. So they were married.Early the next morning the gazelle said to his master: “Now I’m off on a journey. I shall be gone about a week; but however long I am gone, don’t you leave the house till I return. Good-bye.”Then he went to the real sultan and said: “Good master, Sultan Daaraaee has ordered me to return to our town and put his house in order; he commands me to be here again in a week; if I do not return by that time, he will stay here until I come.”The sultan asked him if he would not like to have some soldiers go with him; but the gazelle replied that he was quite competent to take care of himself, as his previous journeys had proved, and he preferred to go alone; so with mutual good wishes they parted.But Keejeepaa did not go in the direction of the old village. He struck off by another road through the forest, and after a time came to a very fine town, of large, handsome houses. As he went through the principal street, right to the far end, he was greatly astonished to observe that the town seemed to have no inhabitants, for he saw neither man, woman, nor child in all the place.At the end of the main street he came upon the largest and most beautiful house he had ever seen, built of sapphire, and turquoise, and costly marbles.“Oh, my!” said the gazelle; “this house would just suit my master. I’ll have to pluck up my courage and see whether this is deserted like the other houses in this mysterious town.”So Keejeepaa knocked at the door, and called, “Hullo, there!” several times; but no one answered. And he said to himself: “This is strange! If there were no one inside, the door would be fastened on the outside. Perhaps they are in another part of the house, or asleep. I’ll call again, louder.”So he called again, very loud and long, “Hul-lo, th-e-re! Hul-lo!” And directly an old woman inside answered, “Who is that calling so loudly?”“It is I, your grandchild, good mistress,” said Keejeepaa.“If you are my grandchild,” replied the old woman, “go back to your home at once; don’t come and die here, and bring me to my death also.”“Oh, come,” said he, “open the door, mistress; I have just a few words I wish to say to you.”“My dear grandson,” she replied, “the only reason why I do not open the door is because I fear to endanger both your life and my own.”“Oh, don’t worry about that; I guess your life and mine are safe enough for a while. Open the door, anyhow, and hear the little I have to say.”So the old woman opened the door.Then they exchanged salutations and compliments, after which she asked the gazelle, “What’s the news from your place, grandson?”“Oh, everything is going along pretty well,” said he; “what’s the news around here?”“Ah!” sighed the old creature; “the news here is very bad. If you’re looking for a place to die in, you’ve struck it here. I’ve not the slightest doubt you’ll see all you want of death this very day.”“Huh!” replied Keejeepaa, lightly; “for a fly to die in honey is not bad for the fly, and doesn’t injure the honey.”“It may be all very well for you to be easy about it,” persisted the old person; “but if people with swords and shields did not escape, how can a little thing like you avoid danger? I must again beg of you to go back to the place you came from. Your safety seems of more interest to me than it is to you.”“Well, you see, I can’t go back just now; and besides, I want to find out more about this place. Who owns it?”“Ah, grandson, in this house are enormous wealth, numbers of people, hundreds of horses, and the owner is Neeo′ka Mkoo′, the wonderfully big snake. He owns this whole town, also.”“Oho! Is that so?” said Keejeepaa. “Look here, old lady; can’t you put me on to some plan of getting near this big snake, that I may kill him?”“Mercy!” cried the old woman, in affright; “don’t talk like that. You’ve put my life in danger already, for I’m sure Neeoka Mkoo can hear what is said in this house, wherever he is. You see I’m a poor old woman, and I have been placed here, with those pots and pans, to cook for him. Well, when the big snake is coming, the wind begins to blow and the dust flies as it would do in a great storm. Then, when he arrives in the courtyard, he eats until he is full, and after that, goes inside there to drink water. When he has finished, he goes away again. This occurs every other day, just when the sun is overhead. I may add that Neeoka Mkoo has seven heads. Now, then, do you think yourself a match for him?”“Look here, mother,” said the gazelle, “don’t you worry about me. Has this big snake a sword?”“He has. This is it,” said she, taking from its peg a very keen and beautiful blade, and handing it to him; “but what’s the use in bothering about it? We are dead already.”“We shall see about that,” said Keejeepaa.Just at that moment the wind began to blow, and the dust to fly, as if a great storm were approaching.“Do you hear the great one coming?” cried the old woman.“Pshaw!” said the gazelle; “I’m a great one also—and I have the advantage of being on the inside. Two bulls can’t live in one cattle-pen. Either he will live in this house, or I will.”Notwithstanding the terror the old lady was in, she had to smile at the assurance of this little undersized gazelle, and repeated over again her account of the people with swords and shields who had been killed by the big snake.“Ah, stop your gabbling!” said the gazelle; “you can’t always judge a banana by its color or size. Wait and see, grandma.”In a very little while the big snake, Neeoka Mkoo, came into the courtyard, and went around to all the pots and ate their contents. Then he came to the door.“Hullo, old lady,” said he; “how is it I smell a new kind of odor inside there?”“Oh, that’s nothing, good master,” replied the old woman; “I’ve been so busy around here lately I haven’t had time to look after myself; but this morning I used some perfume, and that’s what you smell.”Now, Keejeepaa had drawn the sword, and was standing just inside the doorway; so, when the big snake put his head in, it was cut off so quickly that its owner did not know it was gone. When he put in his second head it was cut off with the same quickness; and, feeling a little irritation, he exclaimed, “Who’s inside there, scratching me?” He then thrust in his third head, and that was cut off also.This continued until six heads had been disposed of, when Neeoka Mkoo unfolded his rings and lashed around so that the gazelle and the old woman could not see one another through the dust.Then the snake thrust in his seventh head, and the gazelle, crying: “Now your time has come; you’ve climbed many trees, but this you can not climb,” severed it, and immediately fell down in a fainting fit.Well, that old woman, although she was seventy-five years of age, jumped, and shouted, and laughed, like a girl of nine. Then she ran and got water, and sprinkled the gazelle, and turned him this way and that way, until at last he sneezed; which greatly pleased the old person, who fanned him and tended him until he was quite recovered.“Oh, my!” said she; “who would have thought you could be a match for him, my grandson?”“Well, well,” said Keejeepaa; “that’s all over. Now show me everything around this place.”So she showed him everything, from top to bottom: store-rooms full of goods, chambers full of expensive foods, rooms containing handsome people who had been kept prisoners for a long time, slaves, and everything.Next he asked her if there was any person who was likely to lay claim to the place or make any trouble; and she answered: “No one; everything here belongs to you.”“Very well, then,” said he, “you stay here and take care of these things until I bring my master. This place belongs to him now.”Keejeepaa stayed three days examining the house, and said to himself: “Well, when my master comes here he will be much pleased with what I have done for him, and he’ll appreciate it after the life he’s been accustomed to. As to his father-in-law, there is not a house in his town that can compare with this.”On the fourth day he departed, and in due time arrived at the town where the sultan and his master lived. Then there were great rejoicings; the sultan being particularly pleased at his return, while his master felt as if he had received a new lease of life.After everything had settled down a little, Keejeepaa told his master he must be ready to go, with his wife, to his new home after four days. Then he went and told the sultan that Sultan Daaraaee desired to take his wife to his own town in four days; to which the sultan strongly objected; but the gazelle said it was his master’s wish, and at last everything was arranged.On the day of the departure a great company assembled to escort Sultan Daaraaee and his bride. There were the bride’s ladies-in-waiting, and slaves, and horsemen, and Keejeepaa leading them all.So they traveled three days, resting when the sun was overhead, and stopping each evening about five o’clock to eat and sleep; arising next morning at day-break, eating, and going forward again. And all this time the gazelle took very little rest, going all through the company, from the ladies to the slaves, and seeing that every one was well supplied with food and quite comfortable; therefore the entire company loved him and valued him like the apples of their eyes.On the fourth day, during the afternoon, many houses came into view, and some of the folks called Keejeepaa’s attention to them. “Certainly,” said he; “that is our town, and that house you see yonder is the palace of Sultan Daaraaee.”So they went on, and all the company filed into the courtyard, while the gazelle and his master went into the house.When the old woman saw Keejeepaa, she began to dance, and shout, and carry on, just as she did when he killed Neeoka Mkoo, and taking up his foot she kissed it; but Keejeepaa said: “Old lady, let me alone; the one to be made much of is this my master, Sultan Daaraaee. Kiss his feet; he has the first honors whenever he is present.”The old woman excused herself for not knowing the master, and then Sultan Daaraaee and the gazelle went around on a tour of inspection. The sultan ordered all the prisoners to be released, the horses to be sent out to pasture, all the rooms to be swept, the furniture to be dusted, and, in the meantime, servants were busy preparing food. Then every one had apartments assigned to him, and all were satisfied. After they had remained there some time, the ladies who had accompanied the bride expressed a desire to return to their own homes. Keejeepaa begged them not to hurry away, but after a while they departed, each loaded with gifts by the gazelle, for whom they had a thousand times more affection than for his master. Then things settled down to their regular routine.One day the gazelle said to the old woman: “I think the conduct of my master is very singular. I have done nothing but good for him all the time I have been with him. I came to this town and braved many dangers for him, and when all was over I gave everything to him. Yet he has never asked: ‘How did you get this house? How did you get this town? Who is the owner of this house? Have you rented all these things, or have they been given you? What has become of the inhabitants of the place?’ I don’t understand him. And further: although I have done nothing but good for him, he has never done one good thing for me. Nothing here is really his. He never saw such a house or town as this since the day he was born, and he doesn’t own anything of it. I believe the old folks were right when they said, ‘If you want to do any person good, don’t do too much; do him a little harm occasionally, and he’ll think more of you.’ However, I’ve done all I can now, and I’d like to see him make some little return.”Next morning the old woman was awakened early by the gazelle calling, “Mother! Mother!” When she went to him she found he was sick in his stomach, feverish, and all his legs ached.“Go,” said he, “and tell my master I am very ill.”So she went upstairs and found the master and mistress sitting on a marble couch, covered with a striped silk scarf from India. “Well,” said the master, “what do you want, old woman?”“Oh, my master,” cried she, “Keejeepaa is sick!”The mistress started and said: “Dear me! What is the matter with him?”“All his body pains him. He is sick all over.”“Oh, well,” said the master, “what can I do? Go and get some of that red millet, that is too common for our use, and make him some gruel.”“Gracious!” exclaimed his wife, staring at him in amazement; “do you wish her to feed our friend with stuff that a horse would not eat if he were ever so hungry? This is not right of you.”“Ah, get out!” said he, “you’re crazy. We eat rice; isn’t red millet good enough for a gazelle that cost only a dime?”“Oh, but he is no ordinary gazelle. He should be as dear to you as the apple of your eye. If sand got in your eye it would trouble you.”“You talk too much,” returned her husband; then, turning to the old woman, he said, “Go and do as I told you.”So the old woman went downstairs, and when she saw the gazelle, she began to cry, and say, “Oh, dear! oh, dear!”It was a long while before the gazelle could persuade her to tell him what had passed upstairs, but at last she told him all. When he had heard it, he said: “Did he really tell you to make me red millet gruel?”“Ah,” cried she, “do you think I would say such a thing if it were not so?”“Well,” said Keejeepaa, “I believe what the old folks said was right. However, we’ll give him another chance. Go up to him again, and tell him I am very sick, and that I can’t eat that gruel.”So she went upstairs, and found the master and mistress sitting by the window, drinking coffee.The master, looking around and seeing her, said: “What’s the matter now, old woman?”And she said: “Master, I am sent by Keejeepaa. He is very sick indeed, and has not taken the gruel you told me to make for him.”“Oh, bother!” he exclaimed. “Hold your tongue, and keep your feet still, and shut your eyes, and stop your ears with wax; then, if that gazelle tells you to come up here, say that your legs are stiff; and if he tells you to listen, say your ears are deaf; and if he tells you to look, say your sight has failed you; and if he wants you to talk, tell him your tongue is paralyzed.”When the old woman heard these words, she stood and stared, and was unable to move. As for his wife, her face became sad, and the tears began to start from her eyes; observing which, her husband said, sharply, “What’s the matter with you, sultan’s daughter?”The lady replied, “A man’s madness is his undoing.”“Why do you say that, mistress?” he inquired.“Ah,” said she, “I am grieved, my husband, at your treatment of Keejeepaa. Whenever I say a good word for the gazelle you dislike to hear it. I pity you that your understanding is gone.”“What do you mean by talking in that manner to me?” he blustered.“Why, advice is a blessing, if properly taken. A husband should advise with his wife, and a wife with her husband; then they are both blessed.”“Oh, stop,” said her husband, impatiently; “it’s evident you’ve lost your senses. You should be chained up.” Then he said to the old woman: “Never mind her talk; and as to this gazelle, tell him to stop bothering me and putting on style, as if he were the sultan. I can’t eat, I can’t drink, I can’t sleep, because of that gazelle worrying me with his messages. First, the gazelle is sick; then, the gazelle doesn’t like what he gets to eat. Confound it! If he likes to eat, let him eat; if he doesn’t like to eat, let him die and be out of the way. My mother is dead, and my father is dead, and I still live and eat; shall I be put out of my way by a gazelle, that I bought for a dime, telling me he wants this thing or that thing? Go and tell him to learn how to behave himself toward his superiors.”When the old woman went downstairs, she found the gazelle was bleeding at the mouth, and in a very bad way. All she could say was, “My son, the good you did is all lost; but be patient.”And the gazelle wept with the old woman when she told him all that had passed, and he said, “Mother, I am dying, not only from sickness, but from shame and anger at this man’s ingratitude.”After a while Keejeepaa told the old woman to go and tell the master that he believed he was dying. When she went upstairs she found Daaraaee chewing sugar-cane, and she said to him, “Master, the gazelle is worse; we think him nearer to dying than getting well.”To which he answered: “Haven’t I told you often enough not to bother me?”Then his wife said: “Oh, husband, won’t you go down and see the poor gazelle? If you don’t like to go, let me go and see him. He never gets a single good thing from you.”But he turned to the old woman and said, “Go and tell that nuisance of a gazelle to die eleven times if he chooses to.”“Now, husband,” persisted the lady, “what has Keejeepaa done to you? Has he done you any wrong? Such words as yours people use to their enemies only. Surely the gazelle is not your enemy. All the people who know him, great and lowly, love him dearly, and they will think it very wrong of you if you neglect him. Now, do be kind to him, Sultan Daaraaee.”But he only repeated his assertion that she had lost her wits, and would have nothing further of argument.So the old woman went down and found the gazelle worse than ever.In the meantime Sultan Daaraaee’s wife managed to give some rice to a servant to cook for the gazelle, and also sent him a soft shawl to cover him and a pillow to lie upon. She also sent him a message that if he wished, she would have her father’s best physicians attend him.All this was too late, however, for just as these good things arrived, Keejeepaa died.When the people heard he was dead, they went running around crying and having an awful time; and when Sultan Daaraaee found out what all the commotion was about he was very indignant, remarking, “Why, you are making as much fuss as if I were dead, and all over a gazelle that I bought for a dime!”But his wife said: “Husband, it was this gazelle that came to ask me of my father, it was he who brought me from my father’s, and it was to him I was given by my father. He gave you everything good, and you do not possess a thing that he did not procure for you. He did everything he could to help you, and you not only returned him unkindness, but now he is dead you have ordered people to throw him into the well. Let us alone, that we may weep.”But the gazelle was taken and thrown into the well.Then the lady wrote a letter telling her father to come to her directly, and despatched it by trusty messengers; upon the receipt of which the sultan and his attendants started hurriedly to visit his daughter.When they arrived, and heard that the gazelle was dead and had been thrown into the well, they wept very much; and the sultan, and the vizir, and the judges, and the rich chief men, all went down into the well and brought up the body of Keejeepaa, and took it away with them and buried it.Now, that night the lady dreamt that she was at home at her father’s house; and when dawn came she awoke and found she was in her own bed in her own town again.And her husband dreamed that he was on the dust heap, scratching; and when he awoke there he was, with both hands full of dust, looking for grains of millet. Staring wildly he looked around to the right and left, saying: “Oh, who has played this trick on me? How did I get back here, I wonder?”Just then the children going along, and seeing him, laughed and hooted at him, calling out: “Hullo, Haamdaanee, where have you been? Where do you come from? We thought you were dead long ago.”So the sultan’s daughter lived in happiness with her people until the end, and that beggar-man continued to scratch for grains of millet in the dust heap until he died.If this story is good, the goodness belongs to all; if it is bad, the badness belongs only to him who told it.
Once upon a time there was a widow who had a beautiful daughter. The mother was modest and humble; the daughter, Marienka, was pride itself. She had suitors from all sides, but none satisfied her; the more they tried to please her the more she disdained them.One night, when the poor mother could not sleep, she took her beads and began to pray for her dear child, who gave her more than one care. Marienka was asleep by her side. As the mother gazed lovingly at her beautiful daughter, Marienka laughed in her sleep.“As the mother gazed lovingly at her beautiful daughter, Marienka laughed in her sleep.” Illustration by Edward McCandlish, published in Laboulaye’s Fairy Book (1920), Harper.“What a beautiful dream she must have to laugh in this way!” said the mother. Then she finished her prayer, hung her beads on the wall, laid her head on the same pillow with her daughter, and fell asleep.“My dear child,” said she in the morning, “what did you dream last night that you laughed so?”“What did I dream, mamma? I dreamed that a nobleman came here for me in a copper coach, and that he put a ring on my finger set with a stone that sparkled like the stars. And when I entered the church the people had eyes for no one but the blessed Virgin and me.”“My daughter, my daughter, that was a proud dream!” said the mother, shaking her head. But Marienka went out singing.The same day a wagon entered the yard. A handsome young farmer in good circumstances came to ask Marienka to share a peasant’s bread with him. The mother was pleased with the suitor, but the proud Marienka refused him, saying, “Though you should come in a copper coach, and put a ring on my finger set with a stone that sparkled like the stars, I would not have you for a husband.” And the farmer went away storming at Marienka’s pride.The next night the mother waked, took her beads, and prayed still more earnestly for her daughter, when, behold! Marienka laughed again as she was sleeping.“I wonder what she is dreaming,” said the mother, who prayed, unable to sleep.“My dear child,” she said the next morning, “what did you dream last night that you laughed aloud?”“What did I dream, mamma? I dreamed that a nobleman came here for me in a silver coach, and that he offered me a golden diadem. And when I entered the church the people looked at me more than they did at the blessed Virgin.”“Hush! you are blaspheming. Pray, my daughter, pray that you may not fall into temptation.”But Marienka ran away to escape her mother’s sermon.The same day a carriage entered the yard. A young lord came to entreat Marienka to share a nobleman’s bread with him.“It is a great honor,” said the mother; but vanity is blind.“Though you should come in a silver coach,” said Marienka to the new suitor, “and should offer me a golden diadem, I would not have you for a husband.”“Take care, my child,” said the poor mother; “pride is a device of the Evil One.”“Mothers never know what they are saying,” thought Marienka, and she went out shrugging her shoulders.The third night the mother could not sleep for anxiety. As she lay awake, praying for her daughter, behold! Marienka burst into a loud fit of laughter.“Oh!” said the mother, “what can the unhappy child be dreaming now?” And she continued to pray till daylight.“My dear child,” said she in the morning, “what did you dream last night?”“You will be angry again if I tell you,” answered Marienka.“No, no,” replied the mother. “Tell me.”“I dreamed that a noble lord, with a great train of attendants, came to ask me in marriage. He was in a golden coach, and he brought me a dress of gold lace. And when I entered the church, the people looked at nobody but me.”The mother clasped her hands. Marienka, half dressed, sprang from the bed and ran into the next room, to avoid a lecture that was tiresome to her.The same day three coaches entered the yard, one of copper, one of silver, and one of gold; the first drawn by two horses, the second by four, and the third by eight, all caparisoned with gold and pearls. From the copper and silver coaches alighted pages dressed in scarlet breeches and green jackets and cloaks, while from the golden coach stepped a handsome nobleman all dressed in gold. He entered the house, and, bending one knee on the ground, asked the mother for her daughter’s hand.“What an honor!” thought the mother.“My dream has come to pass,” said Marienka. “You see, mother, that, as usual, I was right and you were wrong.”She ran to her chamber, tied the betrothal knot, and offered it smilingly as a pledge of her faith to the handsome lord, who, on his side, put a ring on her finger set with a stone that sparkled like the stars, and presented her with a golden diadem and a dress of gold lace.The proud girl ran to her room to dress for the ceremony, while the mother, still anxious, said to the bridegroom, “My good sir, what bread do you offer my daughter?”“Among us,” said he, “the bread is of copper, silver, and gold. She can take her choice.”“What does this mean?” thought the mother. But Marienka had no anxiety; she returned as beautiful as the sun, took her lover’s arm, and set out for the church without asking her mother’s blessing. The poor woman was left to pray alone on the threshold; and when Marienka returned and entered the carriage she did not even turn round to look at her mother or to bid her a last farewell.The eight horses set off at a gallop, and did not stop till they reached a huge rock in which there was a hole as large as the gate of a city. The horses plunged into the darkness, the earth trembled, and the rock cracked and crumbled. Marienka seized her husband’s hand.“Don’t be alarmed, my fair one; in a moment it will be light.”All at once a thousand lights waved in the air. The dwarfs of the mountain, each with a torch in his hand, came to salute their lord, the King of the Mines. Marienka learned for the first time her husband’s name. Whether he was a spirit of good or of evil, at least he was so rich that she did not regret her choice.They emerged from the darkness, and advanced through bleached forests and mountains that raised their pale and gloomy summits to the skies. Firs, beeches, birches, oaks, rocks, all were of lead. At the end of the forest stretched a vast meadow the grass of which was of silver; and at the bottom of the meadow was a castle of gold, inlaid with diamonds and rubies. The carriage stopped before the door, and the King of the Mines offered his hand to his bride, saying, “My fair one, all that you see is yours.”Marienka was delighted. But it is impossible to make so long a journey without being hungry; and it was with pleasure, therefore, that she saw the mountain dwarfs bring in a table, everything on which glittered with gold, silver, and precious stones. The dishes were marvelous—side-dishes of emeralds, and roasts of gold on silver salvers. Every one ate heartily except the bride, who begged her husband for a little bread.“Bring the copper bread,” said the King of the Mines.Marienka could not eat it.“Bring the silver bread,” said he.Marienka could not eat it.“Bring the gold bread,” said he, at length.Marienka could not eat it.“My fair one,” said the King of the Mines, “I am very sorry; but what can I offer you? We have no other bread.”The bride burst into tears. Her husband laughed aloud; his heart was of metal, like his kingdom.“Weep, if you like,” he cried; “it will do you no good. What you wished for you possess. Eat the bread that you have chosen.”It was thus that the rich Marienka lived in her castle, dying of hunger, and seeking in vain for a root to allay the torture that was consuming her. God had humbled her by granting her prayer.Three days in the year, the Rogation Days, when the ground half opens to receive the fruitful rain sent by the Lord, Marienka returns to the earth. Dressed in rags, pale and wrinkled, she begs from door to door, too happy when any one throws her a few crusts, and when she receives as alms from the poor what she lacks in her palace of gold—a little bread and a little pity.
There were once three brothers who had fallen deeper and deeper into poverty, and at last their need was so great that they had to endure hunger, and had nothing to eat or drink. Then said they, “We cannot go on thus, we had better go into the world and seek our fortune.” They therefore set out, and had already walked over many a long road and many a blade of grass, but had not yet met with good luck. One day they arrived in a great forest, and in the midst of it was a hill, and when they came nearer they saw that the hill was all silver. Then spake the eldest, “Now I have found the good luck I wished for, and I desire nothing more.” He took as much of the silver as he could possibly carry, and then turned back and went home again. But the two others said, “We want something more from good luck than mere silver,” and did not touch it, but went onwards. After they had walked for two days longer without stopping, they came to a hill which was all gold, The second brother stopped, took thought with himself, and was undecided. “What shall I do?” said he; “shall I take for myself so much of this gold, that I have sufficient for all the rest of my life, or shall I go farther?” At length he made a decision, and putting as much into his pockets as would go in, said farewell to his brother, and went home. But the third said, “Silver and gold do not move me, I will not renounce my chance of fortune, perhaps something better still will be given me.” He journeyed onwards, and when he had walked for three days, he got into a forest which was still larger than the one before, and never would come to an end, and as he found nothing to eat or to drink, he was all but exhausted. Then he climbed up a high tree to find out if up there he could see the end of the forest, but so far as his eye could pierce he saw nothing but the tops of trees. Then he began to descend the tree again, but hunger tormented him, and he thought to himself, “If I could but eat my fill once more!” When he got down he saw with astonishment a table beneath the tree richly spread with food, the steam of which rose up to meet him. “This time,” said he, “my wish has been fulfilled at the right moment.” And without inquiring who had brought the food, or who had cooked it, he approached the table, and ate with enjoyment until he had appeased his hunger. When he was done, he thought, “It would after all be a pity if the pretty little table-cloth were to be spoilt in the forest here,” and folded it up tidily and put it in his pocket. Then he went onwards, and in the evening, when hunger once more made itself felt, he wanted to make a trial of his little cloth, and spread it out and said, “I wish thee to be covered with good cheer again,” and scarcely had the wish crossed his lips than as many dishes with the most exquisite food on them stood on the table as there was room for. “Now I perceive,” said he, “in what kitchen my cooking is done. Thou shalt be dearer to me than the mountains of silver and gold.” For he saw plainly that it was a wishing-cloth. The cloth, however, was still not enough to enable him to sit down quietly at home; he preferred to wander about the world and pursue his fortune farther.One night he met, in a lonely wood, a dusty, black charcoal-burner, who was burning charcoal there, and had some potatoes by the fire, on which he was going to make a meal. “Good evening, blackbird!” said the youth. “How dost thou get on in thy solitude?”“One day is like another,” replied the charcoal-burner, “and every night potatoes! Hast thou a mind to have some, and wilt thou be my guest?” “Many thanks,” replied the traveller, “I won’t rob thee of thy supper; thou didst not reckon on a visitor, but if thou wilt put up with what I have, thou shalt have an invitation.”“Who is to prepare it for thee?” said the charcoal-burner. “I see that thou hast nothing with thee, and there is no one within a two hours’ walk who could give thee anything.” “And yet there shall be a meal,” answered the youth, “and better than any thou hast ever tasted.” Thereupon he brought his cloth out of his knapsack, spread it on the ground, and said, “Little cloth, cover thyself,” and instantly boiled meat and baked meat stood there, and as hot as if it had just come out of the kitchen. The charcoal-burner stared, but did not require much pressing; he fell to, and thrust larger and larger mouthfuls into his black mouth. When they had eaten everything, the charcoal-burner smiled contentedly, and said, “Hark thee, thy table-cloth has my approval; it would be a fine thing for me in this forest, where no one ever cooks me anything good. I will propose an exchange to thee; there in the corner hangs a soldier’s knapsack, which is certainly old and shabby, but in it lie concealed wonderful powers; but, as I no longer use it, I will give it to thee for the table-cloth.”“I must first know what these wonderful powers are,” answered the youth.“That will I tell thee,” replied the charcoal-burner; “every time thou tappest it with thy hand, a corporal comes with six men armed from head to foot, and they do whatsoever thou commandest them.” “So far as I am concerned,” said he, “if nothing else can be done, we will exchange,” and he gave the charcoal-burner the cloth, took the knapsack from the hook, put it on, and bade farewell. When he had walked a while, he wished to make a trial of the magical powers of his knapsack and tapped it. Immediately the seven warriors stepped up to him, and the corporal said, “What does my lord and ruler wish for?”“March with all speed to the charcoal-burner, and demand my wishing-cloth back.” They faced to the left, and it was not long before they brought what he required, and had taken it from the charcoal-burner without asking many questions. The young man bade them retire, went onwards, and hoped fortune would shine yet more brightly on him. By sunset he came to another charcoal- burner, who was making his supper ready by the fire. “If thou wilt eat some potatoes with salt, but with no dripping, come and sit down with me,” said the sooty fellow.“No,” he replied, “this time thou shalt be my guest,” and he spread out his cloth, which was instantly covered with the most beautiful dishes. They ate and drank together, and enjoyed themselves heartily. After the meal was over, the charcoal-burner said, “Up there on that shelf lies a little old worn-out hat which has strange properties: when any one puts it on, and turns it round on his head, the cannons go off as if twelve were fired all together, and they shoot down everything so that no one can withstand them. The hat is of no use to me, and I will willingly give it for thy table-cloth.”“That suits me very well,” he answered, took the hat, put it on, and left his table-cloth behind him. Hardly, however, had he walked away than he tapped on his knapsack, and his soldiers had to fetch the cloth back again. “One thing comes on the top of another,” thought he, “and I feel as if my luck had not yet come to an end.” Neither had his thoughts deceived him. After he had walked on for the whole of one day, he came to a third charcoal-burner, who like the previous ones, invited him to potatoes without dripping. But he let him also dine with him from his wishing-cloth, and the charcoal-burner liked it so well, that at last he offered him a horn for it, which had very different properties from those of the hat. When any one blew it all the walls and fortifications fell down, and all towns and villages became ruins. He certainly gave the charcoal- burner the cloth for it, but he afterwards sent his soldiers to demand it back again, so that at length he had the knapsack, hat and horn, all three. “Now,” said he, “I am a made man, and it is time for me to go home and see how my brothers are getting on.”When he reached home, his brothers had built themselves a handsome house with their silver and gold, and were living in clover. He went to see them, but as he came in a ragged coat, with his shabby hat on his head, and his old knapsack on his back, they would not acknowledge him as their brother. They mocked and said, “Thou givest out that thou art our brother who despised silver and gold, and craved for something still better for himself. He will come in his carriage in full splendour like a mighty king, not like a beggar,” and they drove him out of doors. Then he fell into a rage, and tapped his knapsack until a hundred and fifty men stood before him armed from head to foot. He commanded them to surround his brothers’ house, and two of them were to take hazel-sticks with them, and beat the two insolent men until they knew who he was. A violent disturbance arose, people ran together, and wanted to lend the two some help in their need, but against the soldiers they could do nothing. News of this at length came to the King, who was very angry, and ordered a captain to march out with his troop, and drive this disturber of the peace out of the town; but the man with the knapsack soon got a greater body of men together, who repulsed the captain and his men, so that they were forced to retire with bloody noses. The King said, “This vagabond is not brought to order yet,” and next day sent a still larger troop against him, but they could do even less. The youth set still more men against them, and in order to be done the sooner, he turned his hat twice round on his head, and heavy guns began to play, and the king’s men were beaten and put to flight. “And now,” said he, “I will not make peace until the King gives me his daughter to wife, and I govern the whole kingdom in his name.” He caused this to be announced to the King, and the latter said to his daughter, “Necessity is a hard nut to crack,–what remains to me but to do what he desires? If I want peace and to keep the crown on my head, I must give thee away.”So the wedding was celebrated, but the King’s daughter was vexed that her husband should be a common man, who wore a shabby hat, and put on an old knapsack. She wished much to get rid of him, and night and day studied how she could accomplish this. Then she thought to herself, “Is it possible that his wonderful powers lie in the knapsack?” and she dissembled and caressed him, and when his heart was softened, she said, “If you would but lay aside that ugly knapsack, it disfigures you so, that I can’t help being ashamed of you.” “Dear child,” said he, “this knapsack is my greatest treasure; as long as I have it, there is no power on earth that I am afraid of.” And he revealed to her the wonderful virtue with which it was endowed. Then she threw herself in his arms as if she were going to kiss him, but dexterously took the knapsack off his shoulders, and ran away with it. As soon as she was alone she tapped it, and commanded the warriors to seize their former master, and take him out of the royal palace. They obeyed, and the false wife sent still more men after him, who were to drive him quite out of the country. Then he would have been ruined if he had not had the little hat. But his hands were scarcely at liberty before he turned it twice. Immediately the cannon began to thunder, and struck down everything, and the King’s daughter herself was forced to come and beg for mercy. As she entreated in such moving terms, and promised amendment, he allowed himself to be persuaded and granted her peace. She behaved in a friendly manner to him, and acted as if she loved him very much, and after some time managed so to befool him, that he confided to her that even if any one got the knapsack into his power, he could do nothing against him so long as the old hat was still his. When she knew the secret, she waited until he was asleep, and then she took the hat away from him, and had it thrown out into the street. But the horn still remained to him, and in great anger he blew it with all his strength. Instantly all walls, fortifications, towns, and villages, toppled down, and crushed the King and his daughter to death. And had he not put down the horn and had just blown a little longer, everything would have been in ruins, and not one stone would have been left standing on another. Then no one opposed him any longer, and he made himself King of the whole country.
In a little village that stood on a wide plain, where you could see the sun from the moment he rose to the moment he set, there lived two couples side by side. The men, who worked under the same master, were quite good friends, but the wives were always quarrelling, and the subject they quarrelled most about was– which of the two had the stupidest husband.Unlike most women–who think that anything that belongs to them must be better than what belongs to anyone else–each thought her husband the more foolish of the two.‘You should just see what he does!’ one said to her neighbour. ‘He puts on the baby’s frock upside down, and, one day, I found him trying to feed her with boiling soup, and her mouth was scalded for days after. Then he picks up stones in the road and sows them instead of potatoes, and one day he wanted to go into the garden from the top window, because he declared it was a shorter way than through the door.’‘That is bad enough, of course,’ answered the other; ‘but it is really NOTHING to what I have to endure every day from MY husband. If, when I am busy, I ask him to go and feed the poultry, he is certain to give them some poisonous stuff instead of their proper food, and when I visit the yard next I find them all dead. Once he even took my best bonnet, when I had gone away to my sick mother, and when I came back I found he had given it to the hen to lay her eggs in. And you know yourself that, only last week, when I sent him to buy a cask of butter, he returned driving a hundred and fifty ducks which someone had induced him to take, and not one of them would lay.’‘Yes, I am afraid he IS trying,’ replied the first; ‘but let us put them to the proof, and see which of them is the most foolish.’So, about the time that she expected her husband home from work, she got out her spinning-wheel, and sat busily turning it, taking care not even to look up from her work when the man came in. For some minutes he stood with his mouth open watching her, and as she still remained silent, he said at last:‘Have you gone mad, wife, that you sit spinning without anything on the wheel?’‘YOU may think that there is nothing on it,’ answered she, ‘but I can assure you that there is a large skein of wool, so fine that nobody can see it, which will be woven into a coat for you.’‘Dear me!’ he replied, ‘what a clever wife I have got! If you had not told me I should never have known that there was any wool on the wheel at all. But now I really do seem to see something.’The woman smiled and was silent, and after spinning busily for an hour more, she got up from her stoop, and began to weave as fast as she could. At last she got up, and said to her husband: ‘I am too tired to finish it to-night, so I shall go to bed, and to- morrow I shall only have the cutting and stitching to do.’So the next morning she got up early, and after she had cleaned her house, and fed her chickens, and put everything in its place again, she bent over the kitchen table, and the sound of her big scissors might be heard snip! snap! as far as the garden. Her husband could not see anything to snip at; but then he was so stupid that was not surprising!After the cutting came the sewing. The woman patted and pinned and fixed and joined, and then, turning to the man, she said:‘Now it is ready for you to try on.’ And she made him take off his coat, and stand up in front of her, and once more she patted an pinned and fixed and joined, and was very careful in smoothing out every wrinkle.‘It does not feel very warm,’ observed the man at last, when he had borne all this patiently for a long time.‘That is because it is so fine,’ answered she; ‘you do not want it to be as thick as the rough clothes you wear every day.’He DID, but was ashamed to say so, and only answered: ‘Well, I am sure it must be beautiful since you say so, and I shall be smarter than anyone in the whole village. “What a splendid coat!” they will exclaim when they see me. But it is not everybody who has a wife as clever as mine.’Meanwhile the other wife was not idle. As soon as her husband entered she looked at him with such a look of terror that the poor man was quite frightened.‘Why do you stare at me so? Is there anything the matter?’ asked he.‘Oh! go to bed at once,’ she cried; ‘you must be very ill indeed to look like that!’The man was rather surprised at first, as he felt particularly well that evening; but the moment his wife spoke he became quite certain that he had something dreadful the matter with him, and grew quite pale.‘I dare say it would be the best place for me,’ he answered, trembling; and he suffered his wife to take him upstairs, and to help him off with his clothes.‘If you sleep well during the might there MAY be a chance for you,’ said she, shaking her head, as she tucked him up warmly; ‘but if not–‘ And of course the poor man never closed an eye till the sun rose.‘How do you feel this morning?’ asked the woman, coming in on tip-toe when her house-work was finished.‘Oh, bad; very bad indeed,’ answered he; ‘I have not slept for a moment. Can you think of nothing to make me better?’‘I will try everything that is possible,’ said the wife, who did not in the least wish her husband to die, but was determined to show that he was more foolish that the other man. ‘I will get some dried herbs and make you a drink, but I am very much afraid that it is too late. Why did you not tell me before?’‘I thought perhaps the pain would go off in a day or two; and, besides, I did not want to make you unhappy,’ answered the man, who was by this time quite sure he had been suffering tortures, and had borne them like a hero. ‘Of course, if I had had any idea how ill I really was, I should have spoken at once.’‘Well, well, I will see what can be done,’ said the wife, ‘but talking is not good for you. Lie still, and keep yourself warm.’All that day the man lay in bed, and whenever his wife entered the room and asked him, with a shake of the head, how he felt, he always replied that he was getting worse. At last, in the evening, she burst into tears, and when he inquired what was the matter, she sobbed out:‘Oh, my poor, poor husband, are you really dead? I must go to- morrow and order your coffin.’Now, when the man heard this, a cold shiver ran through his body, and all at once he knew that he was as well as he had ever been in his life.‘Oh, no, no!’ he cried, ‘I feel quite recovered! Indeed, I think I shall go out to work.’‘You will do no such thing,’ replied his wife. ‘Just keep quite quiet, for before the sun rises you will be a dead man.’The man was very frightened at her words, and lay absolutely still while the undertaker came and measured him for his coffin; and his wife gave orders to the gravedigger about his grave. That evening the coffin was sent home, and in the morning at nine o’clock the woman put him on a long flannel garment, and called to the undertaker’s men to fasten down the lid and carry him to the grave, where all their friends were waiting them. Just as the body was being placed in the ground the other woman’s husband came running up, dressed, as far as anyone could see, in no clothes at all. Everybody burst into shouts of laughter at the sight of him, and the men laid down the coffin and laughed too, till their sides nearly split. The dead man was so astonished at this behaviour, that he peeped out of a little window in the side of the coffin, and cried out:‘I should laugh as loudly as any of you, if I were not a dead man.’When they heard the voice coming from the coffin the other people suddenly stopped laughing, and stood as if they had been turned into stone. Then they rushed with one accord to the coffin, and lifted the lid so that the man could step out amongst them.‘Were you really not dead after all?’ asked they. ‘And if not, why did you let yourself be buried?’At this the wives both confessed that they had each wished to prove that her husband was stupider than the other. But the villagers declared that they could not decide which was the most foolish– the man who allowed himself to be persuaded that he was wearing fine clothes when he was dressed in nothing, or the man who let himself be buried when he was alive and well.So the women quarrelled just as much as they did before, and no one ever knew whose husband was the most foolish.
A prize, or rather two prizes, a great one and a small one, had been awarded for the greatest swiftness in running,—not in a single race, but for the whole year.“I obtained the first prize,” said the hare. “Justice must still be carried out, even when one has relations and good friends among the prize committee; but that the snail should have received the second prize, I consider almost an insult to myself.”“No,” said the fence-rail, who had been a witness at the distribution of prizes; “there should be some consideration for industry and perseverance. I have heard many respectable people say so, and I can quite understand it. The snail certainly took half a year to get over the threshold of the door; but he injured himself, and broke his collar-bone by the haste he made. He gave himself up entirely to the race, and ran with his house on his back, which was all, of course, very praiseworthy; and therefore he obtained the second prize.”“I think I ought to have had some consideration too,” said the swallow. “I should imagine no one can be swifter in soaring and flight than I am; and how far I have been! far, far away.”“Yes, that is your misfortune,” said the fence-rail; “you are so fickle, so unsettled; you must always be travelling about into foreign lands when the cold commences here. You have no love of fatherland in you. There can be no consideration for you.”“But now, if I have been lying the whole winter in the moor,” said the swallow, “and suppose I slept the whole time, would that be taken into account?”“Bring a certificate from the old moor-hen,” said he, “that you have slept away half your time in fatherland; then you will be treated with some consideration.”“I deserved the first prize, and not the second,” said the snail. “I know so much, at least, that the hare only ran from cowardice, and because he thought there was danger in delay. I, on the other hand, made running the business of my life, and have become a cripple in the service. If any one had a first prize, it ought to have been myself. But I do not understand chattering and boasting; on the contrary, I despise it.” And the snail spat at them with contempt.“I am able to affirm with word of oath, that each prize—at least, those for which I voted—was given with just and proper consideration,” said the old boundary post in the wood, who was a member of the committee of judges. “I always act with due order, consideration, and calculation. Seven times have I already had the honor to be present at the distribution of the prizes, and to vote; but to-day is the first time I have been able to carry out my will. I always reckon the first prize by going through the alphabet from the beginning, and the second by going through from the end. Be so kind as to give me your attention, and I will explain to you how I reckon from the beginning. The eighth letter from A is H, and there we have H for hare; therefore I awarded to the hare the first prize. The eighth letter from the end of the alphabet is S, and therefore the snail received the second prize. Next year, the letter I will have its turn for the first prize, and the letter R for the second.”“I should really have voted for myself,” said the mule, “if I had not been one of the judges on the committee. Not only the rapidity with which advance is made, but every other quality should have due consideration; as, for instance, how much weight a candidate is able to draw; but I have not brought this quality forward now, nor the sagacity of the hare in his flight, nor the cunning with which he suddenly springs aside and doubles, to lead people on a false track, thinking he has concealed himself. No; there is something else on which more stress should be laid, and which ought not be left unnoticed. I mean that which mankind call the beautiful. It is on the beautiful that I particularly fix my eyes. I observed the well-grown ears of the hare; it is a pleasure to me to observe how long they are. It seemed as if I saw myself again in the days of my childhood; and so I voted for the hare.”“Buz,” said the fly; “there, I’m not going to make a long speech; but I wish to say something about hares. I have really overtaken more than one hare, when I have been seated on the engine in front of a railway train. I often do so. One can then so easily judge of one’s own swiftness. Not long ago, I crushed the hind legs of a young hare. He had been running a long time before the engine; he had no idea that I was travelling there. At last he had to stop in his career, and the engine ran over his hind legs, and crushed them; for I set upon it. I left him lying there, and rode on farther. I call that conquering him; but I do not want the prize.”“It really seems to me,” thought the wild rose, though she did not express her opinion aloud—it is not in her nature to do so,—though it would have been quite as well if she had; “it certainly seems to me that the sunbeam ought to have had the honor of receiving the first prize. The sunbeam flies in a few minutes along the immeasurable path from the sun to us. It arrives in such strength, that all nature awakes to loveliness and beauty; we roses blush and exhale fragrance in its presence. Our worshipful judges don’t appear to have noticed this at all. Were I the sunbeam, I would give each one of them a sun stroke; but that would only make them mad, and they are mad enough already. I only hope,” continued the rose, “that peace may reign in the wood. It is glorious to bloom, to be fragrant, and to live; to live in story and in song. The sunbeam will outlive us all.”“What is the first prize?” asked the earthworm, who had overslept the time, and only now came up.“It contains a free admission to a cabbage-garden,” replied the mule. “I proposed that as one of the prizes. The hare most decidedly must have it; and I, as an active and thoughtful member of the committee, took especial care that the prize should be one of advantage to him; so now he is provided for. The snail can now sit on the fence, and lick up moss and sunshine. He has also been appointed one of the first judges of swiftness in racing. It is worth much to know that one of the members is a man of talent in the thing men call a ‘committee.’ I must say I expect much in the future; we have already made such a good beginning.”
In the Azores there is a little bird which is loved and protected by every one. Its name is the Alvéloa. It has a gray back, white breast, head and throat, and black and white wings. The tail of this little bird is always in motion. This is the reason:Long ago when the wicked king Herod ordered all the babies to be killed, the Holy Virgin fled into Egypt with the Christ child safe in her arms. They rode upon an ass.The Virgin glanced fearfully behind her as they went along the way. At any moment Herod’s messengers might come in pursuit. The tracks of the ass showed plainly in the dusty road.“Oh!” cried the Holy Mother, “Our enemies will see our tracks! They will know in what direction we have fled!”The Alvéloa was nearby and heard. She spread out her tail like a fan and shook it about in the dusty road. The tracks of the ass were completely brushed away.The Holy Mother smiled upon her.“For this kind deed, little bird, your tail shall be always in motion. By this sign you shall be known and your life shall be spared.”To this very day the tail of the Alvéloa is in motion. St. Michael, himself, the patron of the island of S. Miguel, has asked a special protection for the little bird in his island.The Alvéloa flew all the way before the Virgin, showing her the road into Egypt.“My blessing upon you, little bird,” said the Virgin. “May you always have the strength to slay your enemy.”To this very day the Alvéloa is able to slay birds much larger than herself.“The Alvéloa kills the hawk,” is a saying in the Azores.If one wakes in the morning and sees this little gray and white bird before his window he will have a lucky day.On the way into Egypt the Virgin pointed to the lupine which grew by the wayside.“Eat, little bird,” she said. “Eat until your hunger is satisfied. Blessings be upon you for your kind deeds to me and to the Holy Child. May good fortune and plenty always attend you.”To this very day this bird blessed by the Virgin is an emblem of good luck.
Once upon a time there lived a man who had three sons. The eldest was called Peppe, the second Alfin, and the youngest Ciccu. They were all very poor, and at last things got so bad that they really had not enough to eat. So the father called his sons, and said to them, ‘ My dear boys, I am too old to work any more, and there is nothing left for me but to beg in the streets.’‘No, no!’ exclaimed his sons; ‘that you shall never do. Rather, if it must be, would we do it ourselves. But we have thought of a better plan than that.’‘What is it?’ asked the father.‘Well, we will take you in the forest, where you shall cut wood, and then we will bind it up in bundles and sell it in the town.’ So their father let them do as they said, and they all made their way into the forest; and as the old man was weak from lack of food his sons took it in turns to carry him on their backs. Then they built a little hut where they might take shelter, and set to work. Every morning early the father cut his sticks, and the sons bound them in bundles, and carried them to the town, bringing back the food the old man so much needed.Some months passed in this way, and then the father suddenly fell ill, and knew that the time had come when he must die. He bade his sons fetch a lawyer, so that he might make his will, and when the man arrived he explained his wishes.‘I have,’ said he, ‘a little house in the village, and over it grows a fig-tree. The house I leave to my sons, who are to live in it together; the fig-tree I divide as follows. To my son Peppe I leave the branches. To my son Alfin I leave the trunk. To my son Ciccu I leave the fruit. Besides the house and tree, I have an old coverlet, which I leave to my eldest son. And an old purse, which I leave to my second son. And a horn, which I leave to my youngest son. And now farewell.’Thus speaking, he laid himself down, and died quietly. The brothers wept bitterly for their father, whom they loved, and when they had buried him they began to talk over their future lives. ‘What shall we do now?’ said they. ‘Shall we live in the wood, or go back to the village?’ And they made up their minds to stay where they were and continue to earn their living by selling firewood.One very hot evening, after they had been working hard all day, they fell asleep under a tree in front of the hut. And as they slept there came by three fairies, who stopped to look at them.‘What fine fellows!’ said one. ‘Let us give them a present.’‘Yes, what shall it be?’ asked another.‘This youth has a coverlet over him,’ said the first fairy. ‘When he wraps it round him, and wishes himself in any place, he will find himself there in an instant.’Then said the second fairy: ‘This youth has a purse in his hand. I will promise that it shall always give him as much gold as he asks for.’Last came the turn of the third fairy. ‘This one has a horn slung round him. When he blows at the small end the seas shall be covered with ships. And if he blows at the wide end they shall all be sunk in the waves.’ So they vanished, without knowing that Ciccu had been awake and heard all they said.The next day, when they were all cutting wood, he said to his brothers, ‘That old coverlet and the purse are no use to you; I wish you would give them to me. I have a fancy for them, for the sake of old times.’ Now Peppe and Alfin were very fond of Ciccu, and never refused him anything, so they let him have the coverlet and the purse without a word. When he had got them safely Ciccu went on, ‘Dear brothers, I am tired of the forest. I want to live in the town, and work at some trade.’‘O Ciccu! stay with us,’ they cried. ‘We are very happy here; and who knows how we shall get on elsewhere?’‘We can always try,’ answered Ciccu; ‘and if times are bad we can come back here and take up wood-cutting.’ So saying he picked up his bundle of sticks, and his brothers did the same.But when they reached the town they found that the market was overstocked with firewood, and they did not sell enough to buy themselves a dinner, far less to get any food to carry home. They were wondering sadly what they should do when Ciccu said, ‘Come with me to the inn and let us have something to eat.’ They were so hungry by this time that they did not care much whether they paid for it or not, so they followed Ciccu, who gave his orders to the host. ‘Bring us three dishes, the nicest that you have, and a good bottle of wine.’‘Ciccu! Ciccu!’ whispered his brothers, horrified at this extravagance, ‘are you mad? How do you ever mean to pay for it?’‘Let me alone,’ replied Ciccu; ‘I know what I am about.’ And when they had finished their dinner Ciccu told the others to go on, and he would wait to pay the bill.The brothers hurried on, without needing to be told twice, ‘for,’ thought they, ‘he has no money, and of course there will be a row.’When they were out of sight Ciccu asked the landlord how much he owed, and then said to his purse, ‘Dear purse, give me, I pray you, six florins,’ and instantly six florins were in the purse. Then he paid the bill and joined his brothers.‘How did you manage?’ they asked.‘Never you mind,’ answered he. ‘I have paid every penny,’ and no more would he say. But the other two were very uneasy, for they felt sure something must be wrong, and the sooner they parted company with Ciccu the better. Ciccu understood what they were thinking, and, drawing forty gold pieces from his pocket, he held out twenty to each, saying, ‘Take these and turn them to good account. I am going away to seek my own fortune.’ Then he embraced them, and struck down another road.He wandered on for many days, till at length he came to the town where the king had his court. The first thing Ciccu did was to order himself some fine clothes, and then buy a grand house, just opposite the palace.Next he locked his door, and ordered a shower of gold to cover the staircase, and when this was done, the door was flung wide open, and everyone came and peeped at the shining golden stairs. Lastly the rumour of these wonders reached the ears of the king, who left his palace to behold these splendours with his own eyes. And Ciccu received him with all respect, and showed him over the house.When the king went home he told such stories of what he had seen that his wife and daughter declared that they must go and see them too. So the king sent to ask Ciccu’s leave, and Ciccu answered that if the queen and the princess would be pleased to do him such great honour he would show them anything they wished. Now the princess was as beautiful as the sun, and when Ciccu looked upon her his heart went out to her, and he longed to have her to wife. The princess saw what was passing in his mind, and how she could make use of it to satisfy her curiosity as to the golden stairs; so she praised him and flattered him, and put cunning questions, till at length Ciccu’s head was quite turned, and he told her the whole story of the fairies and their gifts. Then she begged him to lend her the purse for a few days, so that she could have one made like it, and so great was the love he had for her that he gave it to her at once.The princess returned to the palace, taking with her the purse, which she had not the smallest intention of ever restoring to Ciccu. Very soon Ciccu had spent all the money he had by him, and could get no more without the help of his purse. Of course, he went at once to the king’s daughter, and asked her if she had done with it, but she put him off with some excuse, and told him to come back next day. The next day it was the same thing, and the next, till a great rage filled Ciccu’s heart instead of the love that had been there. And when night came he took in his hand a thick stick, wrapped himself in the coverlet, and wished himself in the chamber of the princess. The princess was asleep, but Ciccu seized her arm and pulled her out of bed, and beat her till she gave back the purse. Then he took up the coverlet, and wished he was safe in his own house.No sooner had he gone than the princess hastened to her father and complained of her sufferings. Then the king rose up in a fury, and commanded Ciccu to be brought before him. ‘You richly deserve death,’ said he, ‘but I will allow you to live if you will instantly hand over to me the coverlet, the purse, and the horn.’What could Ciccu do? Life was sweet, and he was in the power of the king; so he gave up silently his ill-gotten goods, and was as poor as when he was a boy.While he was wondering how he was to live it suddenly came into his mind that this was the season for the figs to ripen, and he said to himself, ‘I will go and see if the tree has borne well.’ So he set off home, where his brothers still lived, and found them living very uncomfortably, for they had spent all their money, and did not know how to make any more. However, he was pleased to see that the fig-tree looked in splendid condition, and was full of fruit. He ran and fetched a basket, and was just feeling the figs, to make sure which of them were ripe, when his brother Peppe called to him, ‘Stop! The figs of course are yours, but the branches they grow on are mine, and I forbid you to touch them.’Ciccu did not answer, but set a ladder against the tree, so that he could reach the topmost branches, and had his foot already on the first rung when he heard the voice of his brother Alfin: ‘Stop! the trunk belongs to me, and I forbid you to touch it!’Then they began to quarrel violently, and there seemed no chance that they would ever cease, till one of them said, ‘Let us go before a judge.’ The others agreed, and when they had found a man whom they could trust Ciccu told him the whole story.‘This is my verdict,’ said the judge. ‘The figs in truth belong to you, but you cannot pluck them without touching both the trunk and the branches. Therefore you must give your first basketful to your brother Peppe, as the price of his leave to put your ladder against the tree; and the second basketful to your brother Alfin, for leave to shake his boughs. The rest you can keep for yourself.’And the brothers were contented, and returned home, saying one to the other, ‘We will each of us send a basket of figs to the king. Perhaps he will give us something in return, and if he does we will divide it faithfully between us.’ So the best figs were carefully packed in a basket, and Peppe set out with it to the castle.On the road he met a little old man who stopped and said to him, ‘What have you got there, my fine fellow?’‘What is that to you?’ was the answer; ‘mind your own business.’ But the old man only repeated his question, and Peppe, to get rid of him, exclaimed in anger, ‘Dirt.’‘Good,’ replied the old man; ‘dirt you have said, and dirt let it be.’Peppe only tossed his head and went on his way till he got to the castle, where he knocked at the door. ‘I have a basket of lovely figs for the king,’ he said to the servant who opened it, ‘if his majesty will be graciously pleased to accept them with my humble duty.’The king loved figs, and ordered Peppe to be admitted to his presence, and a silver dish to be brought on which to put the figs. When Peppe uncovered his basket sure enough a layer of beautiful purple figs met the king’s eyes, but underneath there was nothing but dirt. ‘How dare you play me such a trick?’ shrieked the king in a rage. ‘Take him away, and give him fifty lashes.’ This was done, and Peppe returned home, sore and angry, but determined to say nothing about his adventure. And when his brothers asked him what had happened he only answered, ‘When we have all three been I will tell you.’A few days after this more figs were ready for plucking, and Alfin in his turn set out for the palace. He had not gone far down the road before he met the old man, who asked him what he had in his basket.‘Horns,’ answered Alfin, shortly.‘Good,’ replied the old man; ‘horns you have said, and horns let it be.’When Alfin reached the castle he knocked at the door and said to the servant: ‘Here is a basket of lovely figs, if his majesty will be good enough to accept them with my humble duty.’The king commanded that Alfin should be admitted to his presence, and a silver dish to be brought on which to lay the figs. When the basket was uncovered some beautiful purple figs lay on the top, but underneath there was nothing but horns. Then the king was beside himself with passion, and screamed out, ‘Is this a plot to mock me? Take him away, and give him a hundred and fifty lashes!’ So Alfin went sadly home, but would not tell anything about his adventures, only saying grimly, ‘Now it is Ciccu’s turn.’Ciccu had to wait a little before he gathered the last figs on the tree, and these were not nearly so good as the first set. However, he plucked them, as they had agreed, and set out for the king’s palace. The old man was still on the road, and he came up and said to Ciccu, ‘What have you got in that basket?’‘Figs for the king,’ answered he.‘Let me have a peep,’ and Ciccu lifted the lid. ‘Oh, do give me one, I am so fond of figs,’ begged the little man.‘I am afraid if I do that the hole will show,’ replied Ciccu, but as he was very good-natured he gave him one. The old man ate it greedily and kept the stalk in his hand, and then asked for another and another and another till he had eaten half the basketful. ‘But there are not enough left to take to the king,’ murmured Ciccu.‘Don’t be anxious,’ said the old man, throwing the stalks back into the basket; ‘just go on and carry the basket to the castle, and it will bring you luck.’Ciccu did not much like it; however he went on his way, and with a trembling heart rang the castle bell. ‘Here are some lovely figs for the king,’ said he, ‘if his majesty will graciously accept them with my humble duty.’When the king was told that there was another man with a basket of figs he cried out, ‘Oh, have him in, have him in! I suppose it is a wager!’ But Ciccu uncovered the basket, and there lay a pile of beautiful ripe figs. And the king was delighted, and emptied them himself on the silver dish, and gave five florins to Ciccu, and offered besides to take him into his service. Ciccu accepted gratefully, but said he must first return home and give the five florins to his brothers.When he got home Peppe spoke: ‘Now we will see what we each have got from the king. I myself received from him fifty lashes.’‘And I a hundred and fifty,’ added Alfin.‘And I five florins and some sweets, which you can divide between you, for the king has taken me into his service.’ Then Ciccu went back to the Court and served the king, and the king loved him.The other two brothers heard that Ciccu had become quite an important person, and they grew envious, and thought how they could put him to shame. At last they came to the king and said to him, ‘O king! your palace is beautiful indeed, but to be worthy of you it lacks one thing—the sword of the Man-eater.’‘How can I get it?’ asked the king.‘Oh, Ciccu can get it for you; ask him.’So the king sent for Ciccu and said to him, ‘Ciccu, you must at any price manage to get the sword of the Man-eater.’Ciccu was very much surprised at this sudden command, and he walked thoughtfully away to the stables and began to stroke his favourite horse, saying to himself, ‘Ah, my pet, we must bid each other good-bye, for the king has sent me away to get the sword of the Maneater.’ Now this horse was not like other horses, for it was a talking horse, and knew a great deal about many things, so it answered, ‘Fear nothing, and do as I tell you. Beg the king to give you fifty gold pieces and leave to ride me, and the rest will be easy.’ Ciccu believed what the horse said, and prayed the king to grant him what he asked. Then the two friends set out, but the horse chose what roads he pleased, and directed Ciccu in everything.It took them many days’ hard riding before they reached the country where the Man-eater lived, and then the horse told Ciccu to stop a group of old women who were coming chattering through the wood, and offer them each a shilling if they would collect a number of mosquitos and tie them up in a bag. When the bag was full Ciccu put it on his shoulder and stole into the house of the Man-eater (who had gone to look for his dinner) and let them all out in his bedroom. He himself hid carefully under the bed and waited. The Man-eater came in late, very tired with his long walk, and flung himself on the bed, placing his sword with its shining blade by his side. Scarcely had he lain down than the mosquitos began to buzz about and bite him, and he rolled from side to side trying to catch them, which he never could do, though they always seemed to be close to his nose. He was so busy over the mosquitos that he did not hear Ciccu steal softly out, or see him catch up the sword. But the horse heard and stood ready at the door, and as Ciccu came flying down the stairs and jumped on his back he sped away like the wind, and never stopped till they arrived at the king’s palace.The king had suffered much pain in his absence, thinking that if the Man-eater ate Ciccu, it would be all his fault. And he was so overjoyed to have him safe that he almost forgot the sword which he had sent him to bring. But the two brothers did not love Ciccu any better because he had succeeded when they hoped he would have failed, and one day they spoke to the king. ‘It is all very well for Ciccu to have got possession of the sword, but it would have been far more to your majesty’s honour if he had captured the Man-eater himself.’ The king thought upon these words, and at last he said to Ciccu, ‘Ciccu, I shall never rest until you bring me back the Man-eater himself. You may have any help you like, but somehow or other you must manage to do it.’ Ciccu felt very much cast, down at these words, and went to the stable to ask advice of his friend the horse. ‘Fear nothing,’ said the horse; ‘just say you want me and fifty pieces of gold.’ Ciccu did as he was bid, and the two set out together.When they reached the country of the Man-eater, Ciccu made all the church bells toll and a proclamation to be made. ‘Ciccu, the servant of the king, is dead.’ The Man-eater soon heard what everyone was saying, and was glad in his heart, for he thought, ‘Well, it is good news that the thief who stole my sword is dead.’ But Ciccu bought an axe and a saw, and cut down a pine tree in the nearest wood, and began to hew it into planks.‘What are you doing in my wood?’ asked the Maneater, coming up.‘Noble lord,’ answered Ciccu, ‘I am making a coffin for the body of Ciccu, who is dead.’‘Don’t be in a hurry,’ answered the Man-eater, who of course did not know whom he was talking to, ‘and perhaps I can help you;’ and they set to work sawing and fitting, and very soon the coffin was finished.Then Ciccu scratched his ear thoughtfully, and cried, ‘Idiot that I am! I never took any measures. How am I to know if it is big enough? But now I come to think of it, Ciccu was about your size. I wonder if you would be so good as just to put yourself in the coffin, and see if there is enough room.’‘Oh, delighted!’ said the Man-eater, and laid himself at full length in the coffin. Ciccu clapped on the lid, put a strong cord round it, tied it fast on his horse, and rode back to the king. And when the king saw that he really had brought back the Man-eater, he commanded a huge iron chest to be brought, and locked the coffin up inside.Just about this time the queen died, and soon after the king thought he should like to marry again. He sought everywhere, but he could not hear of any princess that took his fancy. Then the two envious brothers came to him and said, ‘O king! there is but one woman that is worthy of being your wife, and that is she who is the fairest in the whole world.’‘But where can I find her?’ asked the king‘Oh, Ciccu will know, and he will bring her to you.’Now the king had got so used to depending on Ciccu, that he really believed he could do everything. So he sent for him and said, ‘Ciccu, unless within eight days you bring me the fairest in the whole world, I will have you hewn into a thousand pieces.’ This mission seemed to Ciccu a hundred times worse than either of the others, and with tears in his eyes he took his way to the stables.‘Cheer up,’ laughed the horse; ‘tell the king you must have some bread and honey, and a purse of gold, and leave the rest to me.’Ciccu did as he was bid, and they started at a gallop.After they had ridden some way, they saw a swarm of bees lying on the ground, so hungry and weak that they were unable to fly. ‘Get down, and give the poor things some honey,’ said the horse, and Ciccu dismounted. By-and-bye they came to a stream, on the bank of which was a fish, flapping feebly about in its efforts to reach the water. ‘Jump down, and throw the fish into the water; he will be useful to us,’ and Ciccu did so. Farther along the hillside they saw an eagle whose leg was caught in a snare. ‘Go and free that eagle from the snare; he will be useful to us; ‘ and in a moment the eagle was soaring up into the sky.At length they came to the castle where the fairest in the world lived with her parents. Then said the horse, ‘You must get down and sit upon that stone, for I must enter the castle alone. Directly you see me come tearing by with the princess on my back, jump up behind, and hold her tight, so that she does not escape you. If you fail to do this, we are both lost.’ Ciccu seated himself on the stone, and the horse went on to the courtyard of the castle, where he began to trot round in a graceful and elegant manner. Soon a crowd collected first to watch him and then to pat him, and the king and queen and princess came with the rest. The eyes of the fairest in the world brightened as she looked, and she sprang on the horse’s saddle, crying, ‘Oh, I really must ride him a little!’ But the horse made one bound forward, and the princess was forced to hold tight by his mane, lest she should fall off. And as they dashed past the stone where Ciccu was waiting for them, he swung himself up and held her round the waist. As he put his arms round her waist, the fairest in the world unwound the veil from her head and cast it to the ground, and then she drew a ring from her finger and flung it into the stream. But she said nothing, and they rode on fast, fast.The king of Ciccu’s country was watching for them from the top of a tower, and when he saw in the distance a cloud of dust, he ran down to the steps so as to be ready to receive them. Bowing low before the fairest in the world, he spoke: ‘Noble lady, will you do me the honour to become my wife?’But she answered, ‘That can only be when Ciccu brings me the veil that I let fall on my way here.’And the king turned to Ciccu and said, ‘Ciccu, if you do not find the veil at once, you shall lose your head.’Ciccu, who by this time had hoped for a little peace, felt his heart sink at this fresh errand, and he went into the stable to complain to the faithful horse.‘It will be all right,’ answered the horse when he had heard his tale; ‘just take enough food for the day for both of us, and then get on my back.’They rode back all the way they had come till they reached the place where they had found the eagle caught in the snare; then the horse bade Ciccu to call three times on the king of the birds, and when he replied, to beg him to fetch the veil which the fairest in the world had let fall.‘Wait a moment,’ answered a voice that seemed to come from somewhere very high up indeed. ‘An eagle is playing with it just now, but he will be here with it in an instant;’ and a few minutes after there was a sound of wings, and an eagle came fluttering towards them with the veil in his beak. And Ciccu saw it was the very same eagle that he had freed from the snare. So he took the veil and rode back to the king.Now the king was enchanted to see him so soon, and took the veil from Ciccu and flung it over the princess, crying, ‘Here is the veil you asked for, so I claim you for my wife.’‘Not so fast,’ answered she. ‘I can never be your wife till Ciccu puts on my finger the ring I threw into the stream. Ciccu, who was standing by expecting something of the sort, bowed his head when he heard her words, and went straight to the horse.‘Mount at once,’ said the horse; ‘this time it is very simple,’ and he carried Ciccu to the banks of the little stream. ‘Now, call three times on the emperor of the fishes, and beg him to restore you the ring that the princess dropped.Ciccu did as the horse told him, and a voice was heard in answer that seemed to come from a very long way off.‘What is your will?’ it asked; and Ciccu replied that he had been commanded to bring back the ring that the princess had flung away, as she rode past.‘A fish is playing with it just now,’ replied the voice; ‘however, you shall have it without delay.’And sure enough, very soon a little fish was seen rising to the surface with the lost ring in his mouth. And Ciccu knew him to be the fish that he had saved from death, and he took the ring and rode back with it to the king.‘That is not enough,’ exclaimed the princess when she saw the ring; ‘before we can be man and wife, the oven must be heated for three days and three nights, and Ciccu must jump in.’ And the king forgot how Ciccu had served him, and desired him to do as the princess had said.This time Ciccu felt that no escape was possible, and he went to the horse and laid his hand on his neck. ‘Now it is indeed good-bye, and there is no help to be got even from you,’ and he told him what fate awaited him.But the horse said, ‘Oh, never lose heart, but jump on my back, and make me go till the foam flies in flecks all about me. Then get down, and scrape off the foam with a knife. This you must rub all over you, and when you are quite covered, you may suffer yourself to be cast into the oven, for the fire will not hurt you, nor anything else.’ And Ciccu did exactly as the horse bade him, and went back to the king, and before the eyes of the fairest in the world he sprang into the oven.And when the fairest in the world saw what he had done, love entered into her heart, and she said to the king, ‘One thing more: before I can be your wife, you must jump into the oven as Ciccu has done.’‘Willingly,’ replied the king, stooping over the oven. But on the brink he paused a moment and called to Ciccu, ‘Tell me, Ciccu, how did you manage to prevent the fire burning you?’Now Ciccu could not forgive his master, whom he had served so faithfully, for sending him to his death without a thought, so he answered, ‘I rubbed myself over with fat, and I am not even singed.’When he heard these words, the king, whose head was full of the princess, never stopped to inquire if they could be true, and smeared himself over with fat, and sprang into the oven. And in a moment the fire caught him, and he was burned up.Then the fairest in the world held out her hand to Ciccu and smiled, saying, ‘Now we will be man and wife.’ So Ciccu married the fairest in the world, and became king of the country.
A rat, of quite the smallest size,Fix’d on an elephant his eyes,And jeer’d the beast of high descentBecause his feet so slowly went.Upon his back, three stories high,There sat, beneath a canopy,A certain sultan of renown,His dog, and cat, and wife sublime,His parrot, servant, and his wine,All pilgrims to a distant town.The rat profess’d to be amazedThat all the people stood and gazedWith wonder, as he pass’d the road,Both at the creature and his load.“As if,” said he, “to occupyA little more of land or skyMade one, in view of common sense,Of greater worth and consequence!What see ye, men, in this parade,That food for wonder need be made?The bulk which makes a child afraid?In truth, I take myself to be,In all aspects, as good as he.”And further might have gone his vaunt;But, darting down, the catConvinced him that a ratIs smaller than an elephant.
Once upon a time there was a handsome Flemish youth who came to the island of Fayal. His name was Fernâo de Hutra. He fell in love with a beautiful nun in the convent of the Gloria in the city of Horta.One day the Devil appeared to him.“Since you fell in love with this fair nun, I see you are a friend of mine,” said the Devil.The young man had not known this, but he replied:“Say rather that I will be your friend if you help me get possession of this nun I love.”“Very well,” said the Devil, “but you will have to make a bargain with me.”“What is it?” asked Fernâo, rather anxiously.“Grant me your solemn pledge that you’ll give me all your children,” responded the Devil.“Agreed,” said Fernâo.After that he saw much of the Devil. The nun, however, was as devout as she was beautiful. She refused to break the vows she had made and flee with the Flemish youth. She firmly resisted both him and the Devil.“You are not a true friend to me after all,” said Fernâo to the Devil sadly.“But you are my friend,” said the Devil in reply.Soon after, Fernâo de Hutra left the city of Horta and the island of Fayal and went to join his kinsmen who had settled in Angra in the island of Terceira. Here his handsome face won many friends for him among the youth of the city. To some of these he confided the story of his relations with the Devil.Now it happened that in the year 1666 the first bull fight was held in Angra. To this very day the island of Terceira is the only one in the Azores which has bull fights.Fernâo had taken part in this. He was one of the chief organizers of the bull fight held on St. John’s Day of the following year. That day all the men and women and children of the city of Angra assembled in the public square before the fort. The bullfighters, richly clad, rode forth upon prancing steeds decked in costly velvets with streamers and ribbons of gold and silver which sparkled in the bright sunlight. The youths were resplendent in their garments of crimson or purple or blue velvet, richly embroidered. Fernâo de Hutra was radiant in his jacket of blue decked with pearls, with a plumed hat upon his handsome head. He carried a yellow banner embroidered with the arms of his family.Gay music sounded. The bulls were brought into the ring. The bullfighters saluted and the fight began.In the windows of the castle the daughters of the chief magistrate of the city of Angra were seated among their friends. The eldest daughter, Sophia, was the most beautiful maid of the whole city. The magistrate watched her anxiously as her fair cheek alternately paled and flushed as the struggle went on. There could be no doubt about the fact that there was love in her eyes as they rested upon the handsome young Flemish cavalier, Fernâo de Hutra. She was wearing his colors and in her hand she carefully held his bouquet of flowers. The ribbon which tied them secured also a piece of paper upon which were written these words:“Oh, beautiful maid of my heart’s desire,For your dear sake I’d go through fire.”The magistrate withdrew from the gay scene into the silence of the great hall of the castle. He bowed his head upon his hands.“This youth is the friend of the Devil,” he groaned. “I cannot consent to my daughter’s marriage to him. He has promised to give all his children to the Devil, they say. I cannot allow my own grandchildren to be given to the Devil.”That very day he began to plot how to get rid of the handsome young Fernâo.Now in the bay before the city of Angra there are two rocky islands called to-day just as they were then, the Ilheos de Cabras, the islands of goats. The brother-in-law of the magistrate was the owner of these barren islands. There were a few goats there, a few mulberry bushes, and a tiny spring of fresh water. The magistrate called his brother-in-law to him as soon as the bull fight was over. He told him all his fears and asked if he might use the islands as a place of banishment for the young Flemish cavalier who was the friend of the Devil.“You are quite welcome to use these islands for so worthy a purpose,” replied his brother-in-law. “Indeed, I have often thought that the deep cave on the island led into Inferno. It is a most fitting spot for the habitation of the Devil’s friend.”Thus it happened that the handsome young Flemish cavalier was seized and borne away to the barren rocky islands in the Bay of Angra. When he was received there a great earthquake shook the whole island of Terceira. When at last the people of the city of Angra were through contemplating all the destruction which had been wrought, some one looked in the direction of the island of goats. They saw that a great piece had been broken away from one of the islands.Thus it was that the Devil received his friend.
Above all countries in Europe, this bird, wise in the head and long in the legs, loves Holland. Flying all the way from Africa, the stork is at home among dykes and windmills.Storks are seen by the thousands in Holland and Friesland. Sometimes they strut in the streets, not in the least frightened or disturbed. They make their nests among the tiles and chimneys, on the red roofs of the houses, and they rear their young even on the church towers.If a man sets an old cart wheel flat on a tree-top, the storks accept this, as an invitation to come and stay. At once they proceed, first of all, to arrange their toilet, after their long flight. They do this, even before they build their nest. You can see them, by the hour, preening their feathers and combing their plumage, with their long bills. Then, as solemnly as a boss mason, they set about gathering sticks and hay for their house. They never seem to be in a hurry.A stork lays on a bit of wood, and then goes at his toilet again, looking around to see that other folks are busy. Year after year, a pair of storks will use the same nest, rebuilding, or repairing it, each spring time. The stork is a steady citizen and does not like to change. Once treated well in one place, by the landlord, Mr. and Mrs. Stork keep the same apartments and watch over the family cradle inside the house, to see that it is always occupied by a baby. The return of the stork is, in Holland, a household celebration.Out in the fields, Mr. Stork is happy indeed, for Holland is the paradise of frogs; so the gentleman of the red legs finds plenty to eat. He takes his time for going to dinner, and rarely rushes for quick lunch. After business hours in the morning, he lays his long beak among his thick breast feathers, until it is quite hidden. Then, perched up in the air on one long leg, like a stilt, he takes a nap, often for hours.With the other leg crossed, he seems to be resting on the figure four (4).Towards evening he shakes out his wings, flaps them once or twice, and takes a walk, but he is never in haste. Beginning his hunt, he soon has enough frogs, mice, grubs, worms or insects to make a good meal. It is because this bird feels so much at home, in town and country, making part of the landscape, that we so associate together Holland and the stork, as we usually do.The Dutch proverb pictures the scene, which is so common. “In the same field, the cow eats grass; the grayhound hunts the hare; and the stork helps himself to the frogs.” Indeed, if it were not for the stork, Holland would, like old Egypt, in the time of Moses, be overrun with frogs.Image from Wikipedia Commons.The Dutch call the stork by the sweet name “Ooijevaar,” or the treasure-bringer. Every spring time, the boys and girls, fathers and mothers, shout welcome to the white bird from Egypt.“What do you bring me?” is their question or thought.If the bird deserts its old home on their roof, the family is in grief, thinking it has lost its luck; but if Daddy Stork, with Mrs. Stork’s approval, chooses a new place for their nest, there is more rejoicing in that house, than if money had been found. “Where there are nestlings on the roof, there will be babies in the house,” is what the Dutch say; for both are welcome.To tell why the stork loves Holland, we must go back to the Africa of a million years ago. Then, we shall ask the Dutch fairies how they succeeded in making the new land, in the west, so popular in the stork world. For what reason did the wise birds emigrate to the cold country a thousand miles away? They were so regular and punctual, that a great prophet wrote:“Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times.”Ages ago, there were camels and caravans in Africa, but there was no Holland, for the land was still under the waves. In India, also, the stork was an old bird, that waded in the pools and kept the frogs from croaking in terms of the multiplication table. Sometimes the stork population increased too fast and some went hungry for food; for, the proverb tells us that a stork “died while waiting for the ocean to dry, hoping to get a supply of dried fish.”When on the coast of the North Sea, the Land of a Million Islands was made, the frog emigrants were there first. They poured in so fast, that it seemed a question as to who should own the country-frogs or men. Some were very big, as if ambitious to be bulls. They croaked so loud, that they drowned out the fairy music, and made the night hideous with their noises. The snakes spoiled the country for the little birds, while the toads seemed to think that the salt ocean had been kept out, and the land made, especially for them.The Dutch fairies were disgusted at the way these reptiles behaved, for they could not enjoy themselves, as in the old days. If they went to dance in the meadow, on moonlight nights, they always found a big bullfrog sitting in their ring, mocking them with its bellowing. So when they heard about the storks in Africa, and what hearty appetites they had, for the various wrigglers, crawlers, jumpers and splashers in the waters, they resolved to invite them, in a body, to Holland.The Dutch fairies knew nothing of the habits of the bird and scarcely imagined how such a creature might look, but they heard many pleasant things about the stork’s good character. The wise bird had an excellent reputation, not only for being kind to its young, but also for attending to the wants of its parents, when they were old. It was even said that in some countries the stork was the symbol for filial piety.So the fairies of all the Netherlands despatched a delegation to Egypt and a congress of storks was called to consider this invitation to go west. Messengers were at once sent to all the red-legged birds, among the bulrushes of the Nile, or that lived on the roofs of the temples, or that perched on the pyramids, or dwelt on the top of old columns, or that stood in rows along the eaves of the town houses. The town birds gained their living by acting as street cleaners, but the river birds made their meals chiefly on fish, frogs, and mice.The invitation was discussed in stork meeting, and it was unanimously accepted; except by some old grannies and grandpops that feared in the strange land they would not be well fed. On a second motion, it was agreed that only the strongest birds should attempt the flight. Those afraid, or too weak to go, must stay behind and attend to the old folks. Such a rattle of mandibles was never heard in Egypt before, as when this stork meeting adjourned.Now when storks travel, they go in flocks. Thousands of them left Egypt together. High in the air, with their broad wings spread and their long legs stretched out behind them, they covered Europe in a few hours. Then they scattered all over the marshy lands of the new country. It was agreed that each pair was to find its own home. When the cold autumn should come, they were to assemble again for flight to Egypt.It was a new sight for the fairies, the frogs and the men, to look over the landscape and see these snow white strangers. They were so pretty to look at, while promenading over the meadows, wading in the ponds and ditches, or standing silently by the river banks. Soon, however, these foreign birds were very unpopular in bullfrog land, and as for the snakes, they thought that Holland would be ruined by these hungry strangers. On the other hand, it was good news, in fairy-land, that all fairies could dance safely on their meadow rings, for the bullfrogs were now afraid to venture in the grass, lest they should be gobbled up, for the frogs could not hide from the storks. The new birds could poke their big bills so far into the mud-holes, that no frog, or snake, big or little, was safe. The stork’s red legs were so long, and the birds could wade in such deep water, that hundreds of frogs were soon eaten up, and there were many widows and orphans in the ponds and puddles.When the fairies got more acquainted with their new guests, and saw how they behaved, they nearly died of laughing. They were not surprised at their diet, or eating habits, but they soon discovered that the storks were not song birds. Instead of having voices, they seemed to talk to each other by clattering their long jaws, or snapping their mandibles together. Their snowy plumage—all being white but their wing feathers—was admired, was envied, and their long bright colored legs were a wonder. At first the fairies thought their guests wore red stockings and they thought how heavy must be the laundry work on wash days; for in Holland, everything must be clean.Of all creatures on earth, as the fairies thought, the funniest was seen when Mr. Stork was in love. To attract and please his lady love, he made the most grotesque gestures. He would leap up from the ground and move with a hop, skip, and jump. Then he spread out his wings, as if to hug his beloved. Then he danced around her, as if he were filled with wine. All the time he made the best music he knew how, by clattering his mandibles together. He intended this performance for a sort of love ditty, or serenade. The whole program was more amusing than anything that an ape, goat, or donkey could get up. How the fairies did laugh!Yet the fairies were very grateful to the storks for ridding their meadows of so much vermin. How these delicate looking, snow white and graceful creatures could put so many snails, snakes, tadpoles, and toads into their stomachs and turn them into snow white feathers, wonderful wings and long legs, as red as a rose, was a mystery to them. It seemed more wonderful than anything which they could do, but as fairies have no stomachs and do not eat, this whole matter of digestion was a mystery to them.Besides the terror and gloom in the frog world, every reptile winced and squirmed, when he heard of this new enemy. All crawlers, creepers, and jumpers had so long imagined that the land was theirs and had been made solely for their benefit! Nor did they know how to conquer the storks. The frog daddies could do nothing, and the frog mothers were every moment afraid to let either the tadpoles or froggies go out of their sight. They worried lest they should see their babies caught up in a pair of long, bony jaws, as sharp as scissors, there to wriggle and crow, until their darlings disappeared within the monster.One anecdote of the many that were long told in the old Dutch frog ponds was this: showing into what clangers curiosity may lead youngsters. We put it in quotation marks to show that it was told as a true story, and not printed in a book, or made up.“A tadpole often teased its froggy mother to let it go and see a red pole, of which it had heard from a traveller. Mrs. Frog would not at first let her son go, but promised that as soon as the tadpole lost his tail, and his flippers had turned into fore legs, and his hind quarters had properly sprouted, so that he could hop out of danger, he might then venture on his travels. She warned him, however, not to go too near to that curious red pole, of which he had heard. Nobody as yet found out just what this red thing, standing in the water, was; but danger was suspected by old heads, and all little froggies were warned to be careful and keep away. In reality, the red stick was the leg of a stork, sound asleep, for it was taking its usual afternoon nap. The frogs on the bank, and those in the pool that held their noses above water, to get their breath, had never before seen anything like this red stilt, or its cross pole; for no bird of this sort had ever before flown into their neighborhood. They never suspected that it was a stork, with its legs shaped like the figure four (4). Indeed, they knew nothing of its long bill, that could open and shut like a trap, catching a frog or snake, and swallowing it in a moment.“Unfortunately for this uneducated young frog, that had never travelled from home, it now went too near the red pole, and, to show how brave it was, rubbed its nose against the queer thing. Suddenly the horrible creature, that had only been asleep, woke up and snapped its jaws. In a moment, a wriggling froggy disappeared from sight into the stomach of a monster, that had two red legs, instead of one. At the sight of such gluttony, there was an awful splash, for a whole row of frogs had jumped from the bank into the pool. After this, it was evident that Holland was not to belong entirely to the frogs.”As for the human beings, they were so happy over the war with the vermin and the victory of the storks, that they made this bird their pride and joy. They heaped honors upon the stork as the savior of their country. They placed boxes on the roofs of their houses for these birds to nest in. All the old cart wheels in the land were hunted up. They sawed off the willow trees a few feet above the ground, and set the wheels in flat, which the storks used as their parlors and dressing rooms.As for the knights, they placed the figure of the stork on their shields, banners, and coats of arms, while citizens made this bird prominent on their city seals. The capital of the country, The Hague, was dedicated to this bird, and, for all time, a pond was dug within the city limits, where storks were fed and cared for at the public expense. Even to-day, many a good story, illustrating the tender affection of The Hague storks for their young, is told and enjoyed as an example to Dutch mothers to be the best in the world.Out in the country at large, in any of the eleven provinces, whenever they drained a swamp, or pumped out a pond to make a village, it was not looked upon as a part of Holland, unless there were storks. Even in the new wild places they planted stakes on the pumped out dry land, called polders. On the top of these sticks were laid as invitations for the stork families to come and live with the people. Along the roads they stuck posts for storks’ nests. It became a custom with farmers, when the storks came back, to kill the fatted calf, or lamb, and leave the refuse meat out in the fields for a feast to these bird visitors. A score of Dutch proverbs exist, all of them complimentary to the bird that loves babies and cradles.Last of all, the Dutch children, even in the reign of Queen Wilhelmina, made letter carriers of their friends the treasure-bringers. Tying tiny slips of paper to their red legs, they sent messages, in autumn, to the boys and girls in the old land of the sphinx and pyramids, of Moses, and the children of Israel. In the spring time, the children’s return messages were received in the country which bids eternal welcome to the bird named the Bringer of Blessings.This is why the storks love Holland.
There was once upon a time a King and Queen who had everything they could possibly wish for in this world except a child. At last, after twelve years, the Queen gave birth to a son; but she did not live long to enjoy her happiness, for on the following day she died. But before her death she called her husband to her and said, ‘Never let the child put his feet on the ground, for as soon as he does so he will fall into the power of a wicked Fairy, who will do him much harm.’ And these were the last words the poor Queen spoke.The boy throve and grew big, and when he was too heavy for his nurse to carry, a chair was made for him on little wheels, in which he could wander through the palace gardens without help; at other times he was carried about on a litter, and he was always carefully watched and guarded for fear he should at any time put his feet to the ground.But as this sort of life was bad for his health, the doctors ordered him horse exercise, and he soon became a first-rate rider, and used to go out for long excursions on horseback, accompanied always by his father’s stud-groom and a numerous retinue.Every day he rode through the neighbouring fields and woods, and always returned home in the evening safe and well. In this way many years passed, and the Prince grew to manhood, and hardly anyone remembered the Queen’s warning, though precautions were still taken, more from use and wont than for any other reason.One day the Prince and his suite went out for a ride in a wood where his father sometimes held a hunt. Their way led through a stream whose banks were overgrown with thick brushwood. Just as the horsemen were about to ford the river, a hare, startled by the sound of the horses’ hoofs, started up from the grass and ran towards the thicket. The young Prince pursued the little creature, and had almost overtaken it, when the girth of his saddle suddenly broke in two and he fell heavily to the ground. No sooner had his foot touched the earth than he disappeared before the eyes of the horrified courtiers.They sought for him far and near, but all in vain, and they were forced to recognise the power of the evil Fairy, against which the Queen had warned them on her death-bed. The old King was much grieved when they brought him the news of his son’s disappearance, but as he could do nothing to free him from his fate, he gave himself up to an old age of grief and loneliness, cherishing at the same time the hope that some lucky chance might one day deliver the youth out of the hands of his enemy.Hardly had the Prince touched the ground than he felt himself violently seized by an unseen power, and hurried away he knew not whither. A whole new world stretched out before him, quite unlike the one he had left. A splendid castle surrounded by a huge lake was the abode of the Fairy, and the only approach to it was over a bridge of clouds. On the other side of the lake high mountains rose up, and dark woods stretched along the banks; over all hung a thick mist, and deep silence reigned everywhere.No sooner had the Fairy reached her own domain than she made herself visible, and turning to the Prince she told him that unless he obeyed all her commands down to the minutest detail he would be severely punished. Then she gave him an axe made of glass, and bade him cross the bridge of clouds and go into the wood beyond and cut down all the trees there before sunset. At the same time she cautioned him with many angry words against speaking to a black girl he would most likely meet in the wood.The Prince listened to her words meekly, and when she had finished took up the glass axe and set out for the forest. At every step he seemed to sink into the clouds, but fear gave wings to his feet, and he crossed the lake in safety and set to work at once.But no sooner had he struck the first blow with his axe than it broke into a thousand pieces against the tree. The poor youth was so terrified he did not know what to do, for he was in mortal dread of the punishment the wicked old Fairy would inflict on him. He wandered to and fro in the wood, not knowing where he was going, and at last, worn out by fatigue and misery, he sank on the ground and fell fast asleep.He did not know how long he had slept when a sudden sound awoke him, and opening his eyes he saw a black girl standing beside him. Mindful of the Fairy’s warning he did not dare to address her, but she on her part greeted him in the most friendly manner, and asked him at once if he were under the power of the wicked Fairy. The Prince nodded his head silently in answer.Then the black girl told him that she too was in the power of the Fairy, who had doomed her to wander about in her present guise until some youth should take pity on her and bear her in safety to the other side of the river which they saw in the distance, and on the other side of which the Fairy’s domain and power ended.The girl’s words so inspired the Prince with confidence that he told her all his tale of woe, and ended up by asking her advice as to how he was to escape the punishment the Fairy would be sure to inflict on him when she discovered that he had not cut down the trees in the wood and that he had broken her axe.‘You must know,’ answered the black girl, ‘that the Fairy in whose power we both are is my own mother, but you must not betray this secret, for it would cost me my life. If you will only promise to try and free me I will stand by you, and will accomplish for you all the tasks which my mother sets you.’The Prince promised joyfully all she asked; then having once more warned him not to betray her confidence, she handed him a draught to drink which very soon sunk his senses in a deep slumber.His astonishment was great when he awoke to find the glass axe whole and unbroken at his side, and all the trees of the wood lying felled around him!He made all haste across the bridge of clouds, and told the Fairy that her commands were obeyed. She was much amazed when she heard that all the wood was cut down, and saw the axe unbroken in his hand, and since she could not believe that he had done all this by himself, she questioned him narrowly if he had seen or spoken to the black girl. But the Prince lied manfully, and swore he had never looked up from his work for a moment. Seeing she could get nothing more out of him, she gave him a little bread and water, and showing him to a small dark cupboard she told him he might sleep there.Morning had hardly dawned when the Fairy awoke the Prince, and giving him the glass axe again she told him to cut up all the wood he had felled the day before, and to put it in bundles ready for firewood; at the same time she warned him once more against approaching or speaking a word to the black girl if he met her in the wood.Although his task was no easier than that of the day before, the youth set out much more cheerfully, because he knew he could count an the help of the black girl. With quicker and lighter step he crossed the bridge of clouds, and hardly had he reached the other side than his friend stood before him and greeted him cheerfully. When she heard what the Fairy demanded this time, she answered smilingly, ‘Never fear,’ and handed him another draught, which very soon caused the Prince to sink into a deep sleep.When he awoke everything, was done. All the trees of the wood were cut up into firewood and arranged in bundles ready for use.He returned to the castle as quickly as he could, and told the Fairy that her commands were obeyed. She was even more amazed than she had been before, and asked him again if he had either seen or spoken to the black girl; but the Prince knew better than to betray his word, and once more lied freely.On the following day the Fairy set him a third task to do, even harder than the other two. She told him he must build a castle on the other side of the lake, made of nothing but gold, silver, and precious stones, and unless he could accomplish this within an hour, the most frightful doom awaited him.The Prince heard her words without anxiety, so entirely did he rely on the help of his black friend. Full of hope he hurried across the bridge, and recognised at once the spot where the castle was to stand, for spades, hammers, axes, and every other building implement lay scattered on the ground ready for the workman’s hand, but of gold, silver, and precious stones there was not a sign. But before the Prince had time to feel despondent the black girl beckoned to him in the distance from behind a rock, where she had hidden herself for fear her mother should catch sight of her. Full of joy the youth hurried towards her, and begged her aid and counsel in the new piece of work he had been given to do.But this time the Fairy had watched the Prince’s movements from her window, and she saw him hiding himself behind the rock with her daughter. She uttered a piercing shriek so that the mountains re-echoed with the sound of it, and the terrified pair had hardly dared to look out from their hiding-place when the enraged woman, with her dress and hair flying in the wind, hurried over the bridge of clouds. The Prince at once gave himself up for lost, but the girl told him to be of good courage and to follow her as quickly as he could. But before they left their shelter she broke off a little bit of the rock, spoke some magic words over it, and threw it in the direction her mother was coming from. In a moment a glittering palace arose before the eyes of the Fairy which blinded her with its dazzling splendour, and with its many doors and passages prevented her for some time from finding her way out of it.In the meantime the black girl hurried on with the Prince, hastening to reach the river, where once on the other side they would for ever be out of the wicked Fairy’s power. But before they had accomplished half the way they heard again the rustle of her garments and her muttered curses pursuing them closely.The Prince was terrified; he dared not look back, and he felt his strength giving way. But before he had time to despair the girl uttered some more magic words, and immediately she herself was changed into a pond, and the Prince into a duck swimming on its surface.When the Fairy saw this her rage knew no bounds, and she used all her magic wits to make the pond disappear; she caused a hill of sand to arise at her feet, meaning it to dry up the water at once. But the sand hill only drove the pond a little farther away, and its waters seemed to increase instead of diminishing. When the old woman saw that the powers of her magic were of so little avail, she had recourse to cunning. She threw a lot of gold nuts into the pond, hoping in this way to catch the duck, but all her efforts were fruitless, for the little creature refused to let itself be caught.Then a new idea struck the wicked old woman, and hiding herself behind the rock which had sheltered the fugitives, she waited behind it, watching carefully for the moment when the Prince and her daughter should resume their natural forms and continue their journey.She had not to wait long, for as soon as the girl thought her mother was safely out of the way, she changed herself and the Prince once more into their human shape, and set out cheerfully for the river.But they had not gone many steps when the wicked Fairy hurried after them, a drawn dagger in her hand, and was close upon them, when suddenly, instead of the Prince and her daughter, she found herself in front of a great stone church, whose entrance was carefully guarded by a huge monk.Breathless with rage and passion, she tried to plunge her dagger into the monk’s heart, but it fell shattered in pieces at her feet. In her desperation she determined to pull down the church, and thus to destroy her two victims for ever. She stamped three times on the ground, and the earth trembled, and both the church and the monk began to shake. As soon as the Fairy saw this she retreated to some distance from the building, so as not to be hurt herself by its fall. But once more her scheme was doomed to failure, for hardly had she gone a yard from the church than both it and the monk disappeared, and she found herself in a wood black as night, and full of wolves and bears and wild animals of all sorts and descriptions.Then her wrath gave place to terror, for she feared every moment to be torn in pieces by the beasts who one and all seemed to defy her power. She thought it wisest to make her way as best she could out of the forest, and then to pursue the fugitives once more and accomplish their destruction either by force or cunning.In the meantime the Prince and the black girl had again assumed their natural forms, and were hurrying on as fast as they could to reach the river. But when they got there they found that there was no way in which they could cross it, and the girl’s magic art seemed no longer to have any power. Then turning to the Prince she said, ‘The hour for my deliverance has not yet come, but as you promised to do all you could to free me, you must do exactly as I bid you now. Take this bow and arrow and kill every beast you see with them, and be sure you spare no living creature.’With these words she disappeared, and hardly had she done so than a huge wild boar started out of the thicket near and made straight for the Prince. But the youth did not lose his presence of mind, and drawing his bow he pierced the beast with his arrow right through the skull. The creature fell heavily on the ground, and out of its side sprang a little hare, which ran like the wind along the river bank. The Prince drew his bow once more, and the hare lay dead at his feet; but at the same moment a dove rose up in the air, and circled round the Prince’s head in the most confiding manner. But mindful of the black girl’s commands, he dared not spare the little creature’s life, and taking another arrow from his quiver he laid it as dead as the boar and the hare. But when he went to look at the body of the bird he found instead of the dove a round white egg lying on the ground.While he was gazing on it and wondering what it could mean, he heard the sweeping of wings above him, and looking up he saw a huge vulture with open claws swooping down upon him. In a moment he seized the egg and flung it at the bird with all his might, and lo and behold! instead of the ugly monster the most beautiful girl he had ever seen stood before the astonished eyes of the Prince.But while all this was going on the wicked old Fairy had managed to make her way out of the wood, and was now using the last resource in her power to overtake her daughter and the Prince. As soon as she was in the open again she mounted her chariot, which was drawn by a fiery dragon, and flew through the air in it. But just as she got to the river she saw the two lovers in each other’s arms swimming through the water as easily as two fishes.Quick as lightning, and forgetful of every danger, she flew down upon them. But the waters seized her chariot and sunk it in the lowest depths, and the waves bore the wicked old woman down the stream till she was caught in some thorn bushes, where she made a good meal for all the little fishes that were swimming about.And so at last the Prince and his lovely Bride were free. They hurried as quickly as they could to the old King, who received them with joy and gladness. On the following day a most gorgeous wedding feast was held, and as far as we know the Prince and his bride lived happily for ever afterwards.
Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could sound it, and many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other mermaid tales, in our collection Mermaid Tales: The Little Mermaid and 14 Other Illustrated Mermaid Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle.}We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed, for on this sand grow the strangest flowers and plants, the leaves and stems of which are so pliant that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches as birds fly among the trees here upon land.In the deepest spot of all stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls are built of coral, and the long Gothic windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells that open and close as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a glittering pearl which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for him. She was a very sensible woman, but exceedingly proud of her high birth, and on that account wore twelve oysters on her tail, while others of high rank were only allowed to wear six.She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her care of the little sea princesses, her six granddaughters. They were beautiful children, but the youngest was the prettiest of them all. Her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet and her body ended in a fish’s tail. All day long they played in the great halls of the castle or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows; only the fishes swam up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked.Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright-red and dark-blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro continually. The earth itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if the blue sky were everywhere, above and below, instead of the dark depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a reddish-purple flower with light streaming from the calyx.Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden, where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower bed in the form of a whale; another preferred to make hers like the figure of a little mermaid; while the youngest child made hers round, like the sun, and in it grew flowers as red as his rays at sunset.She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful. While her sisters showed delight at the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of vessels, she cared only for her pretty flowers, red like the sun, and a beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck.She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew rapidly and soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue sands. The shadows had the color of violet and waved to and fro like the branches, so that it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the root were at play, trying to kiss each other.Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land had fragrance, while those below the sea had none; that the trees of the forest were green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly that it was a pleasure to listen to them. Her grandmother called the birds fishes, or the little mermaid would not have understood what was meant, for she had never seen birds.“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grandmother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea and sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships go sailing by. Then you will see both forests and towns.”In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen, but as each was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean to see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit and what she thought was most beautiful. Their grandmother could not tell them enough—there were so many things about which they wanted to know.None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest—she who had the longest time to wait and who was so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the dark blue water and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly, but through the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human beings who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.At length the eldest was fifteen and was allowed to rise to the surface of the ocean.When she returned she had hundreds of things to talk about. But the finest thing, she said, was to lie on a sand bank in the quiet moonlit sea, near the shore, gazing at the lights of the near-by town, that twinkled like hundreds of stars, and listening to the sounds of music, the noise of carriages, the voices of human beings, and the merry pealing of the bells in the church steeples. Because she could not go near all these wonderful things, she longed for them all the more.Oh, how eagerly did the youngest sister listen to all these descriptions! And afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through the dark-blue water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells down in the depths of the sea.In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, and violet and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, drifted across it. And more swiftly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans toward the setting sun, like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun, but it sank into the waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.The third sister’s turn followed, and she was the boldest of them all, for she swam up a broad river that emptied into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines, and palaces and castles peeping out from amid the proud trees of the forest. She heard birds singing and felt the rays of the sun so strongly that she was obliged often to dive under the water to cool her burning face. In a narrow creek she found a large group of little human children, almost naked, sporting about in the water. She wanted to play with them, but they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal—it was a dog, but she did not know it, for she had never seen one before—came to the water and barked at her so furiously that she became frightened and rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the beautiful forest, the green hills, and the pretty children who could swim in the water although they had no tails.The fourth sister was more timid. She remained in the midst of the sea, but said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could see many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they looked like sea gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred fountains were playing in every direction.The fifth sister’s birthday occurred in the winter, so when her turn came she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes and glittered like diamonds. She had seated herself on one of the largest and let the wind play with her long hair. She noticed that all the ships sailed past very rapidly, steering as far away as they could, as if they were afraid of the iceberg. Towards evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled, and the flashes of lightning glowed red on the icebergs as they were tossed about by the heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat on the floating iceberg, calmly watching the lightning as it darted its forked flashes into the sea.Each of the sisters, when first she had permission to rise to the surface, was delighted with the new and beautiful sights. Now that they were grown-up girls and could go when they pleased, they had become quite indifferent about it. They soon wished themselves back again, and after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below and pleasanter to be at home.Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms about each other and rise to the surface together. Their voices were more charming than that of any human being, and before the approach of a storm, when they feared that a ship might be lost, they swam before the vessel, singing enchanting songs of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea and begging the voyagers not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song and thought it was the sighing of the storm. These things were never beautiful to them, for if the ship sank, the men were drowned and their dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.When the sisters rose, arm in arm, through the water, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry—only, since mermaids have no tears, she suffered more acutely.“Oh, were I but fifteen years old!” said she. “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.”At last she reached her fifteenth year.“Well, now you are grown up,” said the old dowager, her grandmother. “Come, and let me adorn you like your sisters.” And she placed in her hair a wreath of white lilies, of which every flower leaf was half a pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.“But they hurt me so,” said the little mermaid.“Yes, I know; pride must suffer pain,” replied the old lady.Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better. But she could not change herself, so she said farewell and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water.The sun had just set when she raised her head above the waves. The clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship with three masts lay becalmed on the water; only one sail was set, for not a breeze stirred, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amidst the rigging. There was music and song on board, and as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air.The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows, and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through glass window-panes and see a number of gayly dressed people.Among them, and the most beautiful of all, was a young prince with large, black eyes. He was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being celebrated with great display. The sailors were dancing on deck, and when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water, and when she again stretched out her head, it looked as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her.She had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly seen. How handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all his guests and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air!It was very late, yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves. Still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, so that she could look within. After a while the sails were quickly set, and the ship went on her way. But soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching. Once more the sails were furled, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountain high, as if they would overtop the mast, but the ship dived like a swan between them, then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this was pleasant sport; but not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea, as the waves broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed, and as the ship lay over on her side, the water rushed in.The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she was obliged to be careful, to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was pitch dark so that she could not see a single object, but when a flash of lightning came it revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board except the prince. When the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her. Then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father’s palace he would certainly be quite dead.No, he must not die! So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Diving deep under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, she at length managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power to swim in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water and let the waves carry them where they would.In the morning the storm had ceased, but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun came up red and shining out of the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince’s cheeks, but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead and stroked back his wet hair. He seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, so she kissed him again and wished that he might live.Presently they came in sight of land, and she saw lofty blue mountains on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Beautiful green forests were near the shore, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water lay quiet and still, but very deep. She swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and some young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and hid herself among some high rocks that rose out of the water. Covering her head and neck with the foam of the sea, she watched there to see what would become of the poor prince.It was not long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where the prince lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she brought a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again and smiled upon those who stood about him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very sorrowful, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down into the water and returned to her father’s castle.She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water, but she could tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen and watched them gathered; she watched the snow on the mountain tops melt away; but never did she see the prince, and therefore she always returned home more sorrowful than before.It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden and fling her arm around the beautiful marble statue, which was like the prince. She gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees so that the whole place became dark and gloomy.At length she could bear it no longer and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to several mermaids, one of whom had an intimate friend who happened to know about the prince. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from and where his palace stood.“Come, little sister,” said the other princesses. Then they entwined their arms and rose together to the surface of the water, near the spot where they knew the prince’s palace stood. It was built of bright-yellow, shining stone and had long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood lifelike statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry and walls covered with beautiful paintings. In the center of the largest salon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone in upon the water and upon the beautiful plants that grew in the basin of the fountain.Now that the little mermaid knew where the prince lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others had ventured, and once she went up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she sat and watched the young prince, who thought himself alone in the bright moonlight.She often saw him evenings, sailing in a beautiful boat on which music sounded and flags waved. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings.Many a night, too, when the fishermen set their nets by the light of their torches, she heard them relate many good things about the young prince. And this made her glad that she had saved his life when he was tossed about half dead on the waves. She remembered how his head had rested on her bosom and how heartily she had kissed him, but he knew nothing of all this and could not even dream of her.She grew more and more to like human beings and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know! but her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. She then went to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she rightly called “the lands above the sea.”“If human beings are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “can they live forever? Do they never die, as we do here in the sea?”“Yes,” replied the old lady, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live for three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here, we become only foam on the surface of the water and have not even a grave among those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; like the green seaweed when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have souls which live forever, even after the body has been turned to dust. They rise up through the clear, pure air, beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”“Why have not we immortal souls?” asked the little mermaid, mournfully. “I would gladly give all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.”“You must not think that,” said the old woman. “We believe that we are much happier and much better off than human beings.”“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about, never again to hear the music of the waves or to see the pretty flowers or the red sun? Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”“No,” said the old woman; “unless a man should love you so much that you were more to him than his father or his mother, and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter—then his soul would glide into your body, and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give to you a soul and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which among us is considered so beautiful, on earth is thought to be quite ugly. They do not know any better, and they think it necessary, in order to be handsome, to have two stout props, which they call legs.”Then the little mermaid sighed and looked sorrowfully at her fish’s tail. “Let us be happy,” said the old lady, “and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough. After that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.”It was one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ballroom were of thick but transparent crystal. Many hundreds of colossal shells,—some of a deep red, others of a grass green,—with blue fire in them, stood in rows on each side. These lighted up the whole salon, and shone through the walls so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliance, and on others shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing.No one on earth has such lovely voices as they, but the little mermaid sang more sweetly than all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails, and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the sweetest voice either on earth or in the sea. But soon she thought again of the world above her; she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his. She crept away silently out of her father’s palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden, sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water and thought: “He is certainly sailing above, he in whom my wishes center and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him and to win an immortal soul. While my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid; she can give me counsel and help.”Then the little mermaid went out from her garden and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before. Neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill wheels, seized everything that came within its reach and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass before she could reach the dominions of the sea witch. Then, for a long distance, the road lay across a stretch of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turf moor.Beyond this was the witch’s house, which stood in the center of a strange forest, where all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants. They looked like serpents with a hundred heads, growing out of the ground. The branches were long, slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches.The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw that she stood still and her heart beat with fear. She came very near turning back, but she thought of the prince and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long, flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi should not lay hold of it. She crossed her hands on her bosom, and then darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that they all held in their grasp something they had seized with their numerous little arms, which were as strong as iron bands. Tightly grasped in their clinging arms were white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea and had sunk down into the deep waters; skeletons of land animals; and oars, rudders, and chests, of ships. There was even a little mermaid whom they had caught and strangled, and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water snakes were rolling in the mire and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built of the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth just as people sometimes feed a canary with pieces of sugar. She called the ugly water snakes her little chickens and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.“I know what you want,” said the sea witch. “It is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, though it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail and to have two supports instead, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you and so that you may have an immortal soul.” And then the witch laughed so loud and so disgustingly that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground and lay there wriggling.“You are but just in time,” said the witch, “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draft for you, with which you must swim to land to-morrow before sunrise; seat yourself there and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what men call legs.“You will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly. Every step you take, however, will be as if you were treading upon sharp knives and as if the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”“Yes, I will,” said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul.“But think again,” said the witch, “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters or to your father’s palace again. And if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake and to love you with his whole soul and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another, your heart will break and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”“I will do it,” said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.“But I must be paid, also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it. But this voice you must give to me. The best thing you possess will I have as the price of my costly draft, which must be mixed with my own blood so that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what is left for me?”“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes. Surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue, that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draft.”“It shall be,” said the little mermaid.Then the witch placed her caldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draft.“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, scouring the vessel with snakes which she had tied together in a large knot. Then she pricked herself in the breast and let the black blood drop into the caldron. The steam that rose twisted itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw a new ingredient into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draft was ready, it looked like the clearest water.“There it is for you,” said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she would never again speak or sing. “If the polypi should seize you as you return through the wood,” said the witch, “throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.” But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draft, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father’s palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished and that all within were asleep. But she did not venture to go in to them, for now that she was dumb and going to leave them forever she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower bed of each of her sisters, kissed her hand towards the palace a thousand times, and then rose up through the dark-blue waters.The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince’s palace and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draft, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body. She fell into a swoon and lay like one dead. When the sun rose and shone over the sea, she recovered and felt a sharp pain, but before her stood the handsome young prince.He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own and then became aware that her fish’s tail was gone and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have. But she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was and whence she came. She looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes, but could not speak. He took her by the hand and led her to the palace.Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be; she felt as if she were treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives. She bore it willingly, however, and moved at the prince’s side as lightly as a bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful, swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb and could neither speak nor sing.Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents. One sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was a great sorrow to the little mermaid, for she knew how much more sweetly she herself once could sing, and she thought, “Oh, if he could only know that I have given away my voice forever, to be with him!”The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty was more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling. She danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.The prince said she should remain with him always, and she was given permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page’s dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with him to the tops of high mountains, and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only smiled, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them like a flock of birds flying to distant lands. While at the prince’s palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps, for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea water. It was then that she thought of all those below in the deep.Once during the night her sisters came up arm in arm, singing sorrowfully as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and they recognized her and told her how she had grieved them; after that, they came to the same place every night. Once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but did not venture so near the land as her sisters had.As the days passed she loved the prince more dearly, and he loved her as one would love a little child. The thought never came to him to make her his wife. Yet unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul, and on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say when he took her in his arms and kissed her fair forehead.“Yes, you are dear to me,” said the prince, “for you have the best heart and you are the most devoted to me. You are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love. But you are like her, and you have almost driven her image from my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and good fortune has sent you to me in her stead. We will never part.“Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life,” thought the little mermaid. “I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands; I sat beneath the foam and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me.” The mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not weep. “He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world—they will meet no more. I am by his side and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake.”Very soon it was said that the prince was to marry and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he intended merely to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he went to court the princess. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled and shook her head. She knew the prince’s thoughts better than any of the others.“I must travel,” he had said to her; “I must see this beautiful princess. My parents desire it, but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her, because she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.” Then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long, waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul.“You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child, are you?” he said, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. Then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there. She smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.In the moonlight night, when all on board were asleep except the man at the helm, she sat on deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father’s castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was. But the cabin boy approached, and when her sisters dived down, he thought what he saw was only the foam of the sea.The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets. Soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the roads through which they passed. Every day was a festival, balls and entertainments following one another. But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she had been brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue.At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to admit that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long, dark eyelashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.“It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay as if dead on the beach,” and he folded his blushing bride in his arms.“Oh, I am too happy!” said he to the little mermaid; “my fondest hopes are now fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness, for your devotion to me is great and sincere.”The little mermaid kissed his hand and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea.All the church bells rang, and the heralds rode through the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burned in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and the bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride’s train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony. She thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world.On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board the ship. Cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the center of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant sleeping couches for the bridal pair during the night. The ship, under a favorable wind, with swelling sails, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea.When it grew dark, a number of colored lamps were lighted and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar joyful festivities, so she too joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her wonderingly. She had never danced so gracefully before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for the pain; a sharper pang had pierced her heart.She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home. She had given up her beautiful voice and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she should breathe the same air with him or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea. An eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her. She had no soul, and now could never win one.All was joy and gaiety on the ship until long after midnight. She smiled and danced with the rest, while the thought of death was in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride and she played with his raven hair till they went arm in arm to rest in the sumptuous tent. Then all became still on board the ship, and only the pilot, who stood at the helm, was awake. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning—for that first ray of the dawn which was to be her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood. They were as pale as she, but their beautiful hair no longer waved in the wind; it had been cut off.“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife; see, it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince. When the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again into a fish’s tail, and you will once more be a mermaid and can return to us to live out your three hundred years before you are changed into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; either he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother mourns so for you that her white hair is falling, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince, and come back. Hasten! Do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.”Then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank beneath the waves.The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent and beheld the fair bride, whose head was resting on the prince’s breast. She bent down and kissed his noble brow, then looked at the sky, on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter. She glanced at the sharp knife and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams.She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid—but she flung it far from her into the waves. The water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, then threw herself from the ship into the sea and felt her body dissolving into foam.The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and hundreds of transparent, beautiful creatures floating around her—she could see through them the white sails of the ships and the red clouds in the sky. Their speech was melodious, but could not be heard by mortal ears—just as their bodies could not be seen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. “Where am I?” asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, like the voices of those who were with her. No earthly music could imitate it.“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the will of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration.“After we have striven for three hundred years to do all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing. You have suffered and endured, and raised yourself to the spirit world by your good deeds, and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes toward the sun and, for the first time, felt them filling with tears.On the ship in which she had left the prince there were life and noise, and she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her. Sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of the bride and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated above.“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child that is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct—for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial.”
There was once upon a time a woman who had one son. This son maintained himself and his mother; he fed their one cow, and brought wood and carried it to the town for sale, and with the money bought bread to support his mother and himself. On one occasion he carried sticks to market, and bought bread and went homewards. As he went homewards with the bread, he went through a wood, came up to some shepherds, and saw that they were going to kill a puppy, and said to them: ‘Don’t kill it; the poor animal has done you no wrong; give it rather to me.’ The shepherds said to him: ‘What will you give us? Give us that loaf.’ He gave them the loaf, took the dog, and carried it home. When he got home, his mother asked him: ‘Have you brought any bread?’ ‘No, but I have bought a puppy with the bread.’ She then said: ‘Wherewith shall we support it, when we’ve nothing to eat ourselves?’ ‘Well, I’ll go gather sticks, sell them, and buy bread.’ He went a second time to gather sticks, took them and sold them, then bought bread, went through the wood, and saw where the shepherds were killing a kitten, and said to them: ‘Don’t kill the animal; it has done you no harm; rather give it to me?’ They said to him: ‘What will you give us?’ He said: ‘What should I give you, when I’ve got nothing?’The shepherds said: ‘That loaf of bread.’ He gave it them and carried the kitten home. The old woman was again anxiously expecting bread. When he got home his mother said to him: ‘Do you bring me any bread?’ ‘No, but I’ve bought a kitten with the bread.’ The old woman then said: ‘You’ve nothing to eat yourself, much less the cat.’ He then said: ‘It, too, will be serviceable. I’ll go gather sticks, sell them, and buy bread.’ He went a third time, gathered and sold sticks, bought bread, and went homewards. Going through the wood, he saw the shepherds killing a snake, and said: ‘Don’t kill the snake, it has done you no harm;He begged for it, too, because he compassionated it; it was beautifully marked, and he fancied it. Then said the shepherds: ‘What will you give us not to kill it?’ He said: ‘This little loaf of bread.’ He gave it them, and they gave him the snake. He went home with the snake, and the snake said to him: ‘Now feed me; when I grow up you shall carry me home.’ When he got home his mother said to him: ‘Why haven’t you brought some bread? Why have you brought this?’ He said: ‘It, too, will be of service.’ Then he went a fourth time to gather sticks, took them to market, sold them, bought four loaves of bread, and brought them home. Then they all ate their fill—the dog, the cat, the snake, his mother, and himself. He maintained the whole set of animals.Snake illustration by Frederick P. Nodder, published in The Naturalist’s Miscellany (1801), Nodder & Co.The snake grew big; he now carried it home. It said to him: ‘Do you hear? my mother will offer you gold and silver, but don’t take any, but let her give you the lock which hangs behind the door. Whenever you want anything whatever, only knock on the lock; twelve young men will come, who will ask you: “What are your commands?” Only say what you wish for, and you will have it immediately.’ When he carried it home, its parents asked him what he wanted for bringing their daughter home. He said according to his instructions: ‘Nothing but that lock, which hangs behind the door.’ They said to him: ‘We can’t give you that; and what good would you do yourself with the lock? Let us rather give you a quantity of money, as much as you can carry.’ He then said: ‘I don’t wish for your money; only give me the lock.’ When they long refused to give it him, he was about to depart. But they saw that he ought not to go away without payment, so gave him the lock. Now, when he had obtained the lock, and had gone a little distance from the house, he knocked on the lock, and immediately out came twelve young men, who asked him: ‘What are your commands?’‘Only that you place me at home at once.’ He immediately stood in front of his cottage, and when his mother saw him, she rejoiced: ‘Oh, my son! you have come home; how miserable I have been because you were not at home!’ ‘Well, mamma, don’t talk! we shall now live better than we have done hitherto; I have brought you such a thing, that we shall live with ease.’ Then he gently knocked on the lock, and up darted the twelve young men: ‘What are your commands?’ ‘Food and drink for me, my mother, the dog and the cat.’ And so it was. This pleased the old woman, and she loved her son still more.Now it came into his head that he should like to get married, and he said to his mother: ‘Mamma, go you to our king, and ask him to give me his daughter to wife.’ His mother jeered him: ‘What is this nonsense that you are talking?’ ‘Well, go you to the king and tell him!’ The old woman did not venture to go at once; but at last go she did, and told the king that her son wished to marry his daughter. The king said to her: ‘Good! provided he performs for me what I shall command him; if he breaks up these hills by to-morrow morning, as far as my eyes can see, so that the best wheat shall grow, and I shall eat a cake from it to-morrow, then it is good; if that shall not be done, he will lose his head.’ She went home weeping: ‘My son, you have done an evil thing; the king has said to you, you must break up all these hills by to-morrow morning, as far as the king’s eyes can see, so that the best wheat shall grow there, and the king shall eat a cake from it to-morrow; and if that be not done, you will lose your head.’ ‘Well, mamma, if that’s all he said, then she will be mine.’ ‘Ah! my sonny! how can this be? You cannot do it.’ ‘Don’t talk, mamma, but let us go to sleep; you will see whether all will be ready to-morrow or no.’They took their supper, and his mother went off to sleep. Then he knocked on the lock, and out sprang the twelve young men. ‘What are your commands?’ ‘I ask that these hills be broken up, as far as the king’s eyes can see, and the best wheat must grow there.’ It was done. In the morning the old woman went to the king with the cake. The king rose up and saw that it was really accomplished, and the old woman was waiting with the cake. The king came out, and she said to him: ‘Good-morning; I have brought it.’ Then the king said: ‘Good! he has done this; now tell him that by to-morrow he must clear all the woods, as far as he can see, and the best vineyards must be there, and he’ (the king) ‘must eat grapes and drink new wine to-morrow; and if he does not do this, he will lose his head.’ She went again weeping home, and told her son all that the king had said to her. But he only smiled and said: ‘Well, well, only go to sleep, you will see whether all will be ready to-morrow or no.’ When they had supped, the old woman went off to sleep, and he knocked on the lock, and the twelve young men sprang out: ‘What are your commands?’ ‘I command that these woods be all cleared, and that they produce the best grapes.’ This, too, was done. In the morning the king rose up and saw that the change was really effected. The old woman, too, was really waiting for him with grapes and new wine. The king said to her: ‘Well, good! tell your son that he must accomplish one thing more, and then he will win my daughter. If he shall have as much cattle, and such a castle as I have, he will win my daughter; if not, he will lose his head.’ The old woman went home again, and told him what the king said. Then he knocked on the lock, and immediately out sprang the twelve young men: ‘What are your commands?’ He ordered that by the morrow a better castle must be built than the king had ever seen, and that he must have more cattle than the king, and there must be a covered way from his castle to the king’s, and that a better garden must be formed, and in it all kinds of trees, and all sorts of birds to sing in it.This, too, came to pass. On the morrow he caused his six best horses to be harnessed, and went to fetch the king’s daughter, to go to the wedding. Then the king said that there should be wedding festivities for five years. They were married, and the wedding festivities took place. Entrance was free to everyone. The festivities had already lasted three years, when the king’s resources were exhausted. Then said the young man: ‘Now I will entertain for three years.’ The king of the sea came, too, to the festivities, and fancied the king’s daughter, whom the other had married. Once upon a time he saw how he knocked upon the lock, and that which he wanted immediately presented itself. When they went to sleep, the king of the sea stole the lock, and knocked upon it; up sprang the twelve young men: ‘What are your commands?’ ‘That this castle and this lady be placed on the black sea.’It was done. In the morning the young man and his mother were terrified out of their wits, because they were lying in a simple cottage. But he knew at once that he had lost the lock. Then he went to the king and prayed him to take charge of his mother, that he might go to look for his castle. Well, he went to look for it, with his dog and cat. He approached that sea, saw his castle, and said: ‘Cat and dog, do you see our castle? But how shall we get into it?’ They went to the sea and sat down. He was weary, and fell asleep as he sat. Then said the dog and the cat: ‘Let us go for the lock.’ The dog said: ‘You can’t swim; sit on my back; I will carry you.’ They went and came up to the wall. Then said the dog: ‘I can’t climb up a wall.’ The cat said to him: ‘You hang on somehow behind me.’ And thus they arrived at the corridor. Now said the cat: ‘You, dog, stay outside; I’ll go in by myself.’ The king of the sea had just such a cat. The cat went to the door and mewed: ‘Miau.’ Then said the king of the sea: ‘Let the cat in.’ Then the cat went in and took the lock so neatly that the king of the sea didn’t see it; he then went to the door and mewed: ‘Miau.’ Then said the king of the sea: ‘Let the cat out.’ The cat went out, and the dog asked it: ‘Have you got it?’ ‘I have; only go.’ They went over the wall and into the sea; and when they were already not far from their master, the dog wanted to have hold of the lock, to carry it up to his master, and said to the cat: ‘Give me the lock; if you don’t, I will throw you into the sea.’ Then they squabbled, and the lock fell into the sea, and a fish swallowed it; but the cat seized the fish, and said: ‘If you don’t give up the lock I will kill you.’ The fish said: ‘Don’t kill me; I’ll give you the lock,’ and immediately brought the lock up. They went to their master, and carried up the lock.When their master awoke and rose up, he said: ‘In what condition have you come?’ They said: ‘Our master, we have brought the lock.’ ‘Where is it?’ ‘Here.’ Then he took it and knocked upon it, and out sprang the twelve young men: ‘What are your commands?’ ‘I command that my castle be placed where it was, as well as that king and my wife.’ It was done. Then he went into the castle, and she immediately ran to him and they kissed each other. But he caused the king of the sea to be impaled on a spit in the midst of the sea. Thus he obtained his castle back again, and lived happily with his wife, but the king of the sea was destroyed.
Once there was a woman who had no children, and this made her very unhappy. So she spoke one day to the Sunball, saying: ‘Dear Sunball, send me only a little girl now, and when she is twelve years old you may take her back again.’So soon after this the Sunball sent her a little girl, whom the woman called Letiko, and watched over with great care till she was twelve years old. Soon after that, while Letiko was away one day gathering herbs, the Sunball came to her, and said: ‘Letiko, when you go home, tell your mother that she must bethink herself of what she promised me.’Then Letiko went straight home, and said to her mother: ‘While I was gathering herbs a fine tall gentleman came to me and charged me to tell you that you should remember what you promised him.’When the woman heard that she was sore afraid, and immediately shut all the doors and windows of the house, stopped up all the chinks and holes, and kept Letiko hidden away, that the Sunball should not come and take her away. But she forgot to close up the keyhole, and through it the Sunball sent a ray into the house, which took hold of the little girl and carried her away to him.One day, the Sunball having sent her to the straw shed to fetch straw, the girl sat down on the piles of straw and bemoaned herself, saying: ‘As sighs this straw under my feet so sighs my heart after my mother.’And this caused her to be so long away that the Sunball asked her, when she came back: ‘Eh, Letiko, where have you been so long?’She answered: ‘My slippers are too big, and I could not go faster.’Then the Sunball made the slippers shorter.Another time he sent her to fetch water, and when she came to the spring, she sat down and lamented, saying: ‘As flows the water even so flows my heart with longing for my mother.’Thus she again remained so long away that the Sunball asked her: ‘Eh, Letiko, why have you remained so long away?’And she answered: ‘My petticoat is too long and hinders me in walking.’Then the Sunball cut her petticoat to make it shorter.Another time the Sunball sent her to bring him a pair of sandals, and as the girl carried these in her hand she began to lament, saying: ‘As creaks the leather so creaks my heart after my little mother.’When she came home the Sunball asked her again: ‘Eh, Letiko, why do you come home so late?’‘My red hood is too wide, and falls over my eyes, therefore I could not go fast.’Then he made the hood narrower.At last, however, the Sunball became aware how sad Letiko was. He sent her a second time to bring straw, and, slipping in after her, he heard how she lamented for her mother. Then he went home, called two foxes to him, and said: ‘Will you take Letiko home?’‘Yes, why not?’‘But what will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and thirsty by the way?’‘We will eat her flesh and drink her blood.’When the Sunball heard that, he said: ‘You are not suited for this affair.’Then he sent them away, and called two hares to him, and said: ‘Will you take Letiko home to her mother?’‘Yes, why not?’‘What will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and thirsty by the way?’‘We will eat grass and drink from streamlets.’‘Then take her, and bring her home.’Then the hares set out, taking Letiko with them, and because it was a long way to her home they became hungry by the way. Then they said to the little girl: ‘Climb this tree, dear Letiko, and remain there till we have finished eating.’So Letiko climbed the tree, and the hares went grazing.It was not very long, however, before a lamia came under the tree and called out: ‘Letiko, Letiko, come down and see what beautiful shoes I have on.’‘Oh! my shoes are much finer than yours.’‘Come down. I am in a hurry, for my house is not yet swept.’‘Go home and sweep it then, and come back when you are ready.’Then the lamia went away and swept her house, and when she was ready she came back and called out: ‘Letiko, Letiko, come down and see what a beautiful apron I have.’‘Oh! my apron is much finer than yours.’‘If you will not come down I will cut down the tree and eat you.’‘Do so, and then eat me.’Then the lamia hewed with all her strength at the tree, but could not cut it down. And when she saw that, she called out: ‘Letiko, Letiko, come down, for I must feed my children.’‘Go home then and feed them, and come back when you are ready.’When the lamia was gone away, Letiko called out: ‘Little hares! little hares!’Then said one hare to the other: ‘Listen, Letiko is calling;’ and they both ran back to her as fast as they could go. Then Letiko came down from the tree, and they went on their way.The lamia ran as fast as she could after them, to catch them up, and when she came to a field where people were working she asked them: ‘Have you seen anyone pass this way?’They answered: ‘We are planting beans.’‘Oh! I did not ask about that; but if anyone had passed this way.’But the people only answered the louder: ‘Are you deaf? It is beans, beans, beans we are planting.’When Letiko had nearly reached her home the dog knew her, and called out, ‘Bow wow! see here comes Letiko!’And the mother said, ‘Hush! thou beast of ill-omen! wilt thou make me burst with misery?’Next the cat on the roof saw her, and called out ‘Miaouw! miaouw! see here comes Letiko!’And the mother said, ‘Keep silence! thou beast of ill-omen! wilt thou make me burst with misery?’Then the cock spied, and called out: ‘Cock-a-doodle-do! see here comes Letiko!’And the mother said again: ‘Be quiet! thou bird of ill-omen! wilt thou make me burst with misery?’The nearer Letiko and the two hares came to the house the nearer also came the lamia, and when the hare was about to slip in by the house door she caught it by its little tail and tore it out.When the hare came in the mother stood up and said to it: ‘Welcome, dear little hare; because you have brought me back Letiko I will silver your little tail.’And she did so; and lived ever after with her daughter in happiness and content.
On a cloudy night in July, 1758, the people of Windham, Connecticut, were awakened by screams and shrill voices. Some sprang up and looked to the priming of their muskets, for they were sure that the Indians were coming; others vowed that the voices were those of witches or devils, flying overhead; a few ran into the streets with knives and fire-arms, while others fastened their windows and prayerfully shrank under the bedclothes. A notorious reprobate was heard blubbering for a Bible, and a lawyer offered half of all the money that he had made dishonestly to any charity if his neighbors would guarantee to preserve his life until morning.All night the greatest alarm prevailed. At early dawn an armed party climbed the hill to the eastward, and seeing no sign of Indians, or other invaders, returned to give comfort to their friends. A contest for office was waging at that period between two lawyers, Colonel Dyer and Mr. Elderkin, and sundry of the people vowed that they had heard a challenging yell of “Colonel Dyer! Colonel Dyer!” answered by a guttural defiance of “Elderkin, too! Elderkin, too!” Next day the reason of it all came out: A pond having been emptied by drought, the frogs that had lived there emigrated by common consent to a ditch nearer the town, and on arriving there had apparently fought for its possession, for many lay dead on the bank. The night was still and the voices of the contestants sounded clearly into the village, the piping of the smaller being construed into “Colonel Dyer,” and the grumble of the bull-frogs into “Elderkin, too.” The “frog scare” was a subject of pleasantry directed against Windham for years afterward.
Colonel Howell, of the king’s troops, was a gay fellow, framed to make women false; but when he met the rosy, sweet-natured daughter of farmer Jarrett, near Valley Forge, he attempted no dalliance, for he fell too seriously in love. He might not venture into the old man’s presence, for Jarrett had a son with Washington, and he hated a red-coat as he did the devil; but the young officer met the girl in secret, and they plighted troth beneath the garden trees, hidden in gray mist. As Howell bent to take his first kiss that night, a rising wind went past, bringing from afar the roll of a drum, and as they talked the drum kept drawing nearer, until it seemed at hand. The officer peered across the wall, then hurried to his mistress’ side, as pale as death. The fields outside were empty of life.Louder came the rattling drum; it seemed to enter the gate, pass but a yard away, go through the wall, and die in the distance. When it ceased, Howell started as if a spell had been lifted, laxed his grip on the maiden’s hand, then drew her to his breast convulsively. Ruth’s terror was more vague but no less genuine than his own, and some moments passed before she could summon voice to ask him what this visitation meant. He answered, “Something is about to change my fortunes for good or ill; probably for ill. Important events in my family for the past three generations have been heralded by that drum, and those events were disasters oftener than benefits.” Few more words passed, and with another kiss the soldier scaled the wall and galloped away, the triple beat of his charger’s hoofs sounding back into the maiden’s ears like drum-taps. In a skirmish next day Colonel Howell was shot. He was carried to farmer Jarrett’s house and left there, in spite of the old man’s protest, for he was willing to give no shelter to his country’s enemies. When Ruth saw her lover in this strait she was like to have fallen, but when she learned that it would take but a few days of quiet and care to restore him to health, she was ready to forgive her fellow-countrymen for inflicting an injury that might result in happiness for both of them.It took a great deal of teasing to overcome the scruples of the farmer, but he gruffly consented to receive the young man until his hurt should heal. Ruth attended him faithfully, and the cheerful, manly nature of the officer so won the farmer’s heart that he soon forgot the color of Howell’s coat. Nor was he surprised when Howell told him that he loved his daughter and asked for her hand; indeed, it had been easy to guess their affection, and the old man declared that but for his allegiance to a tyrant he would gladly own him as a son-in-law. It was a long struggle between love and duty that ensued in Howell’s breast, and love was victor. If he might marry Ruth he would leave the army. The old man gave prompt consent, and a secret marriage was arranged. Howell had been ordered to rejoin his regiment; he could not honorably resign on the eve of an impending battle, and, even had he done so, a long delay must have preceded his release. He would marry the girl, go to the country, live there quietly until the British evacuated Philadelphia, when he would return and cast his lot with the Jarrett household.Howell donned citizen’s dress, and the wedding took place in the spacious best room of the mansion, but as he slipped the ring on the finger of his bride the roll of a drum was heard advancing up the steps into the room, then on and away until all was still again. The young colonel was pale; Ruth clung to him in terror; clergymen and guests looked at each other in amazement. Now there were voices at the porch, the door was flung open, armed men entered, and the bridegroom was a prisoner. He was borne to his quarters, and afterward tried for desertion, for a servant in the Jarrett household, hating all English and wishing them to suffer, even at each other’s hands, had betrayed the plan of his master’s guest. The court-martial found him guilty and condemned him to be shot. When the execution took place, Ruth, praying and sobbing in her chamber, knew that her husband was no more. The distant sound of musketry reverberated like the roll of a drum.
On a certain afternoon the sun was falling in the West, and in the midst of the ruddy silence a solitary lodge stood on the banks of a remote lake. One sound only broke, in the least degree, the forest stillness—the low breathing of the dying inmate, who was the head of a poor family. His wife and children surrounded the buffalo robe on which he lay. Of the children, two were almost grown up—a daughter and a son; the other was a boy, and a mere child in years.All the skill of the household in their simple medicines was exhausted, and they stood looking on or moved about the lodge with whispered steps, awaiting the departure of the spirit. As one of the last acts of kindness, the skin door of the lodge had been thrown back to admit the fresh air of the evening. The poor man felt a momentary return of strength, and raising himself a little, he addressed his family.“I leave you,” he said, “in a world of care, in which it has required all my strength and skill to supply you food, and to protect you from the storms and cold of a harsh climate.”He cast his eyes upon his wife, and continued:“For you, my partner in life, I have less sorrow, because I am persuaded you will not remain long behind me; but you, my children! my poor and forsaken children, who have just begun the career of life, who will shelter you from calamity? Listen to my words. Unkindness, ingratitude, and every wickedness, are in the scene before you. It was for this that years ago I withdrew from my kindred and my tribe to spend my days in this lonely spot. I have contented myself with the company of your mother and yourselves, during seasons of very frequent scarcity and want, while your kindred, feasting in plenty, have caused the forests to echo with the shouts of successful war. I gave up these things for the enjoyment of peace. I wished to hide you away from the bad examples which would have spoiled your innocence. I have seen you, thus far, grow up in purity of heart. If we have sometimes suffered bodily want, we have escaped pain of mind. We have not been compelled to look on or to take a part with the red hand in scenes of rioting and bloodshed. My path now stops. I have arrived at the brink of the world. I will shut my eyes in peace if you, my children, will promise me to cherish each other. Let not your mother suffer during the few days that are left to her; and I charge you, on no account, to forsake your younger brother. Of him I give you both my dying command to have a tender care.”He spoke no more, and as the sun fell out of view the light had gone from his face. The family stood still, as if they expected to hear something further; but when they came to his side and called him by name, his spirit did not answer. It was in another world.The mother and daughter lamented aloud, but the elder son clothed himself in silence, as though it had been a mantle, and took his course as though nothing had occurred. He exerted himself to supply, with his bow and net, the wants of the little household, but he never made mention of his father.Five moons had filled and waned, and the sixth was near its full, when the mother also died. In her last moments she pressed the fulfillment of their father’s wish.The winter passed, and the spring, sparkling in the clear northern air, cheered the spirits of the lonely little people in the lodge.The girl, being the eldest, directed her brothers, and she seemed to feel a tender and sisterly affection for the youngest, who was slight in frame and of a delicate temper. The other boy soon began to break forth with restless speeches, which showed that his spirit was not at ease. One day he addressed his sister as follows:“My sister, are we always to live as if there were no other human beings in the world? Must I deprive myself of the pleasure of mingling with my own kind? I have determined this question for myself. I shall seek the villages of men, and you can not prevent me.”The sister replied:“I do not say no, my brother, to what you desire; we are not forbidden the society of our fellow-mortals, but we are told to cherish each other, and to do nothing that shall not be agreeable to all our little household. Neither pleasure nor pain ought, therefore, to separate us, especially from our younger brother, who, being but a child, and weakly withal, is entitled to a double share of our affection. If we follow our separate fancies, it will surely make us neglect him, whom we are bound by vows, both to our father and mother, to support.”The young man received this address in silence, and still took his course as though nothing out of the ordinary way had occurred. After awhile he seemed to recover his spirits; and as they lived in a large country, where there were open fields, the two brothers, at his invitation, often amused themselves in playing ball. One afternoon he chose the ground near to a beautiful lake, and they played and laughed with great spirit, and the ball was seldom allowed to touch the ground.Now in this lake there happened to harbor a wicked old Manito, Mishosha by name, who looked at the brothers as they played, and he was vastly pleased with their nimbleness and beauty. He thought to himself, what shall I do to get these lads to accompany me? One of them shall hit the ball sideways, and it shall fall into my canoe.It so happened, and it somehow seemed as if Owasso, the elder brother, had purposely given it that direction. When Owasso saw the old man, he professed to be greatly surprised, as was the other, Sheem by name, in truth, for he had not noticed the old Manito before.“Bring the ball to us,” they both cried out. “Come to the shore.”“No,” answered the old magician. He, however, came near enough for either of them to wade out to him. “Come, come,” he said. “Come and get your ball.”They insisted that he should come ashore, but he sturdily declined to oblige them.“Very well,” said Owasso, “I will go and get it.” And he ran into the water. “Hand it to me,” he said, when he had approached near enough to receive it.“Ha!” answered the Manito, “reach over and get it yourself.”Owasso was about to grasp the ball, when the old magician suddenly seized him and pushed him into the boat.“My grandfather,” said Owasso, “pray take my little brother also. Alone I can not go with you; he will starve if I leave him.”Mishosha only laughed at him; then uttering the charmed words, “Chemaun Poll!” and giving his canoe a slap, it glided through the water, without further help, with the swiftness of an arrow.In a short time they reached the magician’s lodge, which stood upon the further shore, a little distance back from the lake. The two daughters of Mishosha were seated within. “My daughter,” he said to his eldest, as they entered the lodge, “I have brought you a husband.”The young woman smiled; for Owasso was a comely youth to look upon. The magician told him to take his seat near her, and by this act the marriage ceremony was completed, and Owasso and the magician’s daughter were man and wife, and in the course of time they had born to them a son.But no sooner was Owasso in the family than the old Manito wished him out of the way, and he went about in his own wicked fashion to compass it.One day he asked his son-in-law to go out a-fishing with him. They started without delay; for the magician had only to speak, and off went the canoe. They reached a solitary bay in an island, a very dark, lonely, and out-of-the-way place. The Manito advised Owasso to spear a large sturgeon which came alongside, and with its great glassy eye turned up, seemed to recognize the magician. Owasso rose in the boat to dart his spear, and by speaking that moment to his canoe, Mishosha shot forward and hurled his son-in-law headlong into the water; where, leaving him to struggle for himself, he was soon out of sight.Owasso, being himself gifted with limited magical powers, spoke to the fish, and bade him swim toward the lodge, while he carried him along, which he did at great speed. Once he directed the sturgeon to rise near the surface of the water, so that he might, if possible, get a view of the magician. The fish obeyed, and Owasso saw the wicked old Manito busy in another direction, fishing, as unconcerned as though he had not just lost a member of his family.On went the fish, and on went Owasso, till they reached the shore, near the magician’s lodge, in advance of him. He then spoke kindly to the sturgeon, and told him he should not be angry with him for having speared him, as he was created to be meat for man. The sturgeon made no reply, or if he did, it has not been reported; and Owasso, drawing him on shore, went up and told his wife to dress and cook it immediately. By the time it was prepared the magician had come in sight.“Your grandfather has arrived,” said the woman to her son; “go and see what he brings, and eat this as you go”—handing a piece of the fish.The boy went, and the magician no sooner saw him with the fish in his hand, than he asked him, “What are you eating? and who brought it?”He replied, “My father brought it.”The magician began to feel uneasy, for he found that he had been outwitted; he, however, put on a grave face, and entering the lodge, acted as if nothing unusual had happened.Some days after this, Mishosha again requested his son-in-law to accompany him; and Owasso, without hesitation, said “Yes!”They went out, and, in a rapid passage, they arrived at a solitary island, which was no more than a heap of high and craggy rocks.The magician said to Owasso, “Go on shore, my son, and pick up all the gulls’ eggs you can find.”The rocks were strewn with eggs, and the air resounded with the cry of the birds as they saw them gathered up by Owasso.The old magician took the opportunity to speak to the gulls. “I have long wished,” he said, “to offer you something. I now give you this young man for food.”He then uttered the charm to his canoe, and it shot out of sight, leaving Owasso to make his peace the best way he could.The gulls flew in immense numbers around him, and were ready to devour him. Owasso did not lose his presence of mind, but he addressed them and said:“Gulls, you know you were not formed to eat human flesh, nor was man made to be the prey of birds. Obey my words. Fly close together, a sufficient number of you, and carry me on your backs to the magician’s lodge.”They listened attentively to what he said, and seeing nothing unreasonable in his request, they obeyed him, and Owasso soon found himself sailing through the air swiftly homeward.Meanwhile, it appears that the old magician had fallen asleep and allowed his canoe to come to a stand-still; for Owasso, in his flight over the lake, saw him lying on his back in the boat, taking a nap, which was quite natural, as the day was very soft and balmy.As Owasso, with his convoy of birds, passed over, he let fall, directly in the face of the old magician, a capful of gulls’ eggs, which broke and so besmeared his eyes that he could barely see. He jumped up and exclaimed:“It is always so with these thoughtless birds. They never consider where they drop their eggs.”Owasso had flown on and reached the lodge in safety, and, excusing himself for the liberty, he killed two or three of the gulls for the sake of their feathers to ornament his son’s head.When the magician arrived, soon after, his grandson came out to meet him, tossing his head about as the feathers danced and struggled with the wind.“Where did you get these?” asked the Manito, “and who brought them?”“My father brought them,” the boy replied.The old magician was quite distressed in his mind that he had not destroyed his son-in-law. He entered his lodge in silence, and set his wits busily at work again to contrive some plan for easing his feelings in that respect.He could not help saying to himself:“What manner of boy is this who is ever escaping from my power? But his guardian spirit shall not save him. I will entrap him to-morrow. Ha, ha, ha!”He was painfully aware that he had tried two of his charms without effect, and that he had but two more left. He now professed to be more friendly with his son-in-law than ever, and the very next day he said to Owasso:“Come, my son, you must go with me to procure some young eagles. We will tame them, and have them for pets about the lodge. I have discovered an island where they are in great abundance.”They started on the trip, and when, after traversing an immense waste of water, they had reached the island, Mishosha led him inland until they came to the foot of a tall pine-tree, upon which the nests were to be found.“Now, my son,” said Mishosha, “climb up this tree and bring down the birds. I think you will get some fine ones up there.”Owasso obeyed. When he had with great difficulty got near the nest, Mishosha cried out, addressing himself to the tree, and without much regard to the wishes of Owasso:“Now stretch yourself up and be very tall.”The tree, at this bidding, rose up so far that Owasso would have imperiled his neck by any attempt to get to the ground.“Listen, ye eagles!” continued Mishosha. “You have long expected a gift from me. I now present you this boy, who has had the presumption to climb up where you are to molest your young. Stretch forth your claws and seize him.”So saying, the old magician, according to his custom in such cases, turned his back upon Owasso, and going off in his canoe at a word, he left his son-in-law to shift for himself.But the birds did not seem to be so badly-minded as the old magician had supposed; for a very old bald eagle, quite corpulent and large of limb, alighting on a branch just opposite, opened conversation with him by asking what had brought him there.Owasso replied that he had not mounted the tree of himself, or out of any disposition to harm his people; that his father-in-law, the old magician who had just left them, had sent him up; that he was constantly sending him on mischievous errands. In a word, the young man was enlarging at great length upon the character of the wicked Manito, when he was interrupted by being darted upon by a hungry-eyed bird, with long claws.Owasso, not in the least disconcerted, boldly seized this fierce eagle by the neck and dashed it against the rocks, crying out:“Thus will I deal with all who come near me.”The old eagle, who appeared to be the head of the tribe, was so pleased with this show of spirit that he immediately appointed two tall birds, uncommonly strong in the wings, to transport Owasso to his lodge. They were to take turns in conducting him through the air.Owasso expressed many obligations to the old eagle for his kindness, and they forthwith set out. It was a high point from which they started, for the pine-tree had shot far, far up toward the clouds, and they could even descry the enchanted island where the old magician lived; though it was miles and miles away. For this point they steered their flight; and in a short time they landed Owasso at the door of the lodge.With many compliments for their dispatch, Owasso dismissed the birds, and stood ready to greet his wicked father-in-law who now arrived; and when he espied his son-in-law still unharmed, Mishosha grew very black in the face. He had but a single charm left.He thought he would ponder deeply how he could employ that to the best advantage; and it happened that while he was doing so, one evening, as Owasso and his wife were sitting on the banks of the lake, and the soft breeze swept over it, they heard a song, as if sung by some one at a great distance. The sound continued for some time, and then died away in perfect stillness. “Oh, it is the voice of Sheem,” cried Owasso. “It is the voice of my brother! If I could but only see him!” And he hung down his head in deep anguish.His wife witnessed his distress, and to comfort him she proposed that they should attempt to make their escape, and carry him succor on the morrow.When the morning came, and the sun shone warmly into the lodge, the wife of Owasso offered to comb her father’s hair, with the hope that it would soothe him to sleep. It had that effect; and they no sooner saw him in deep slumber than they seized the magic canoe, Owasso uttered the charmed words, “Chemaun Poll!” and they glided away upon the water without need of oar or sail.They had nearly reached the land on the opposite side of the lake, and could distinctly hear the voice of the younger brother singing his lament as before, when the old magician wakened. Missing his daughter and her husband, he suspected deception of some kind; he looked for his magic boat and found it gone. He spoke the magic words, which were more powerful from him than from any other person in the world, and the canoe immediately returned; to the sore disappointment of Owasso and his wife.When they came back to the shore, Mishosha stood upon the beach and drew up his canoe. He did not utter a word. The son-in-law and daughter entered the lodge in silence.The time, walking along in its broad open path, brought the autumn months to a close, and the winter had set in. Soon after the first fall of snow, Owasso said:“Father, I wish to try my skill in hunting. It is said there is plenty of game not far off, and it can now be easily tracked. Let us go.”The magician consented; they set out, and arriving at a good ground for their sport, they spent the day in hunting. Night coming on, they built them selves a lodge of pine-branches to sleep in. Although it was bitterly cold, the young man took off his leggings and moccasins, and hung them up to dry. The old magician did the same, carefully hanging his own in a separate place, and they lay down to sleep.Owasso, from a glance he had given, suspected that the magician had a mind to play him a trick, and to be beforehand with him, he watched an opportunity to get up and change the moccasins and leggings, putting his own in the place of Mishosha’s, and depending on the darkness of the lodge to help him through.Near daylight, the old magician bestirred himself, as if to rekindle the fire; but he slyly reached down a pair of moccasins and leggings with a stick, and thinking they were no other than those of Owasso’s, he dropped them into the flames; while he cast himself down, and affected to be lost in a heavy sleep. The leather leggings and moccasins soon drew up and were burned.Instantly jumping up and rubbing his eyes, Mishosha cried out:“Son-in-law, your moccasins are burning; I know it by the smell.”Owasso rose up, deliberately and unconcerned.“No, my friend,” said he, “here are mine,” at the same time taking them down and drawing them on. “It is your moccasins that are burning.”Mishosha dropped his head upon his breast. All his tricks were played out—there was not so much as half a one left to help him out of the sorry plight he was in.“I believe, my grandfather,” added Owasso, “that this is the moon in which fire attracts, and I fear you must have set your foot and leg garments too near the fire, and they have been drawn in. Now let us go forth to the hunt.”The old magician was compelled to follow him, and they pushed out into a great storm of snow, and hail, and wind, which had come on over night; and neither the wind, the hail, nor the snow, had the slightest respect for the bare limbs of the old magician, for there was not the least virtue of magic in those parts of old Mishosha’s body. After a while they quite stiffened under him, his body became hard, and the hair bristled in the cold wind, so that he looked to Owasso—who turned away from him, leaving the wicked old magician alone to ponder upon his past life—to Owasso he looked like a tough old sycamore-tree more than a highly-gifted old magician.Owasso himself reached home in safety, proof against all kinds of weather, and the magic canoe became the exclusive property of the young man and his wife.During all this part of Owasso’s stay at the lodge of Mishosha, his sister, whom he had left on the main land with Sheem, their younger brother, had labored with good-will to supply the lodge. She knew enough of the arts of the forest to provide their daily food, and she watched her little brother, and tended his wants, with all of a good sister’s care. By times she began to be weary of solitude and of her charge. No one came to be a witness of her constancy, or to let fall a single word in her mother-tongue. She could not converse with the birds and beasts about her, and she felt, to the bottom of her heart, that she was alone. In these thoughts she forgot her younger brother; she almost wished him dead; for it was he alone that kept her from seeking the companionship of others.One day, after collecting all the provisions she had been able to reserve from their daily use, and bringing a supply of wood to the door, she said to her little brother:“My brother, you must not stray from the lodge. I am going to seek our elder brother. I shall be back soon.”She then set the lodge in perfect order, and, taking her bundle, she set off in search of habitations. These she soon found, and in the enjoyment of the pleasures and pastimes of her new acquaintance, she began to think less and less of her little brother, Sheem. She accepted proposals of marriage, and from that time she utterly forgot the abandoned boy.As for poor little Sheem, he was soon brought to the pinching turn of his fate. As soon as he had eaten all of the food left in the lodge, he was obliged to pick berries, and live off of such roots as he could dig with his slender hands. As he wandered about in search of wherewithal to stay his hunger, he often looked up to heaven, and saw the gray clouds going up and down. And then he looked about upon the wide earth, but he never saw sister nor brother returning from their long delay.At last, even the roots and berries gave out. They were blighted by the frost or hidden out of reach by the snow, for the mid-winter had come on, and poor little Sheem was obliged to leave the lodge and wander away in search of food.Sometimes he was enforced to pass the night in the clefts of old trees or caverns, and to break his fast with the refuse meals of the savage wolves.These at last became his only resource, and he grew to be so little fearful of these animals that he would sit by them while they devoured their meat, and patiently await his share.After a while, the wolves took to little Sheem very kindly, and seeming to understand his outcast condition, they would always leave something for him to eat. By and by they began to talk with him, and to inquire into his history. When he told them that he had been forsaken by his brother and his sister, the wolves turned about to each other, lifted up their eyes to heaven, and wondered among themselves, with raised paws, that such a thing should have been.In this way, Sheem lived on till the spring, and as soon as the lake was free from ice, he followed his new friends to the shore.It happened on the same day, that his elder brother, Owasso, was fishing in his magic canoe, a considerable distance out upon the lake; when he thought he heard the cries of a child upon the shore. He wondered how any human creature could exist on so bleak and barren a coast.He listened again with all attention, and he heard the cry distinctly repeated; and this time it was the well-known cry of his younger brother that reached his ear. He knew too well the secret of his song, as he heard him chaunting mournfully:“My brother! My brother! Since you left me going in the canoe, a-hee-ee, I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee.”Owasso made for the shore, and as he approached the lament was repeated. The sounds were very distinct, and the voice of wailing was very sorrowful for Owasso to listen to, and it touched him the more that it died away at the close, into a long-drawn howl, like that of the wolf.In the sand, as he drew closer to the land, he saw the tracks as of that animal fleeing away; and besides these the prints of human hands. But what were the pity and astonishment that smote Owasso to the heart when he espied his poor little brother—poor little forsaken Sheem—half boy and half wolf, flying along the shore.Owasso immediately leaped upon the ground and strove to catch him in his arms, saying soothingly, “My brother! my brother! Come to me.”But the poor wolf-boy avoided his grasp, crying, as he fled, “Neesia, neesia. Since you left me going in the canoe, a-he-ee, I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee. I am half changed into a wolf, E-wee!” and howling between these words of lament.The elder brother, sore at heart, and feeling all of his brotherly affection strongly returning, with renewed anguish, cried out, “My brother! my brother! my brother!”But the nearer he approached to poor Sheem, the faster he fled, and the more rapidly the change went on; the boy-wolf by turns singing and howling, and calling out the name, first of his brother and then of his sister, till the change was complete. He leaped upon a bank, and looking back, and casting upon Owasso a glance of deep reproach and grief, he exclaimed, “I am a wolf!” and disappeared in the woods.
Such was the Indian name of the site of Westboro, Massachusetts, and the neighboring pond was Hochomocko. The camp of the red men near the shore was full of bustle one day, for their belle, Iano, was to marry the young chief, Sassacus. The feast was spread and all were ready to partake of it, when it was found that the bride was missing. One girl had seen her steal into the wood with a roguish smile on her lip, and knew that she intended to play hide-and-seek with Sassacus before she should be proclaimed a wife, but the day wore on and she did not come. Among those who were late in reaching camp was Wequoash, who brought a panther in that he had slain on Boston Hill, and he bragged about his skill, as usual. There had been a time when he was a rival of the chief for the hand of Iano, and he showed surprise and concern at her continued absence. The search went on for two days, and, at the end of that time, the girl’s body was taken from the lake.At the funeral none groaned so piteously as Wequoash. Yet Sassacus felt his loss so keenly that he fell into a sickness next day, and none was found so constant in his ministrations as Wequoash; but all to no avail, for within a week Sassacus, too, was dead. As the strongest and bravest remaining in the tribe, Wequoash became heir to his honors by election.A year later he sat moodily by the lakeside, when a flame burst up from the water, and a canoe floated toward him that a mysterious agency impelled him to enter. The boat sped toward the flame, that, at his approach, assumed Iano’s form. He heard the water gurgle as he passed over the spot where the shape had glimmered, but there was no other sound or check. Next year this thing occurred again, and then the spirit spoke: “Only once more.”Yet a third time his fate took him to the spot, and as the hour came on he called his people to him: “This,” said he, “is my death-day. I have done evil, and the time comes none too soon. Sassacus was your chief. I envied him his happiness, and gave him poison when I nursed him. Worse than that, I saw Iano in her canoe on her wedding-day. She had refused my hand. I entered my canoe and chased her over the water, in pretended sport, but in the middle of the lake I upset her birch and she was drowned. See! she comes!”For, as he spoke, the light danced up again, and the boat came, self-impelled, to the strand. Wequoash entered it, and with head bent down was hurried away. Those on the shore saw the flame condense to a woman’s shape, and a voice issued from it: “It is my hour!” A blinding bolt of lightning fell, and at the appalling roar of thunder all hid their faces. When they looked up, boat and flame had vanished. Whenever, afterward, an Indian rowed across the place where the murderer had sunk, he dropped a stone, and the monument that grew in that way can be seen on the pond floor to this day.
A Peasant had an Apple-tree growing in his garden, which bore no fruit, but merely served to provide a shelter from the heat for the sparrows and grasshoppers which sat and chirped in its branches. Disappointed at its barrenness he determined to cut it down, and went and fetched his axe for the purpose. But when the sparrows and the grasshoppers saw what he was about to do, they begged him to spare it, and said to him, “If you destroy the tree we shall have to seek shelter elsewhere, and you will no longer have our merry chirping to enliven your work in the garden.” He, however, refused to listen to them, and set to work with a will to cut through the trunk. A few strokes showed that it was hollow inside and contained a swarm of bees and a large store of honey. Delighted with his find he threw down his axe, saying, “The old tree is worth keeping after all.”Utility is most men’s test of worth.
I am going to tell you something: many, many years ago, an Indian went out hunting in the mountains and lost his way. For days he wandered around among the trees and at night slept on the ground, until he grew very tired, cold and hungry. Finally one evening he saw smoke. He ran swiftly over to the place whence the smoke came, and there he found two bears cooking their evening meal.“I am lost, Mr. Bear,” said the man, “and I am starving to death. Please give me food and shelter for the night?”“You are welcome to our home and board, Mr. Man,” replied Mr. Bear; and Mrs. Bear immediately gave him some of their freshly cooked supper.All winter the bears kept the man in their cavehouse and shared their food with him. When spring came the man said, “I am going back home now. What can I do to repay you for all of your kindness to me?” Mr. Bear replied, “You can plant a field of corn for our food next winter when you go back to the Indian village.” And the man went back to the village and planted the field of corn.In the fall when the corn was ripe for gathering, the man said to the Indians in the village, “I am going up into the mountains to hunt today. Tomorrow I shall bring two bears to my corn field. All of you form a circle around the field and catch them when they come.”So the man set out for the bears’ house in the mountains. When he reached there, he found two baby bear cubs that had come since he had gone away. “All the better,” he thought, “now we shall have four bears instead of two to eat this winter.”He spent the night with the bears. Early the next morning he said to them, “Let us go down to the corn field today, for it is ready to be gathered.”The bears were greatly pleased; so Father Bear, Mother Bear and the two cub Bears walked along happily behind the man. They had scarcely gone into the corn field when they heard a loud hunter’s yell, and Indians rushed upon them from all sides with bows and arrows and tomahawks. Father Bear was killed; but Mother Bear struck the man who had deceived them with a great blow of her paw. She tore open his chest, snatched out his heart and she and the baby bears ran safely away.When they reached their cave-home in the mountains there was no one to find food for the family, so Mrs. Bear took the man’s heart and changed it into a boy that was half-man and half-bear and named him Juan Half-Bear.“Now,” said Mrs. Bear to Juan, “you have the virtues of the man without his vices and also the good traits of the bear. I will teach you to hunt; and after you have provided us with food enough to atone for the trouble your wicked heart caused us, you shall be free to go wherever you please.”So Juan helped the bears for many years until he grew into young manhood and then he went away to seek his fortune.
Our eyes are not made proof against the fair,Nor hands against the touch of gold.Fidelity is sadly rare,And has been from the days of old.Well taught his appetite to check,And do full many a handy trick,A dog was trotting, light and quick,His master’s dinner on his neck.A temperate, self-denying dog was he,More than, with such a load, he liked to be.But still he was, while many such as weWould not have scrupled to make free.Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach,Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach!This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out,A mastiff met, who wish’d the meat, no doubt.To get it was less easy than he thought:The porter laid it down and fought.Meantime some other dogs arrive:Such dogs are always thick enough,And, fearing neither kick nor cuff,Upon the public thrive.Our hero, thus o’ermatch’d and press’d,—The meat in danger manifest,—Is fain to share it with the rest;And, looking very calm and wise,“No anger, gentlemen,” he cries:“My morsel will myself suffice;The rest shall be your welcome prize.”With this, the first his charge to violate,He snaps a mouthful from his freight.Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup,Till all is cleanly eaten up.Not sparingly the party feasted,And not a dog of all but tasted.In some such manner men abuseOf towns and states the revenues.The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor,Come in for each a liberal share.
There was once a king who was so wicked that he would not allow any widows to live in his kingdom, because he was certain that they had caused the death of their husbands; nor would he admit of any fat man or woman, as he was afraid that they would eat up everything in the kingdom.He was also very proud and arrogant, and if any man happened to be taller than himself, he would give him the choice of being lowered to a proper height by either having his head or his legs cut off.His subjects were so afraid of him and of his laws, that the married women would not let their husbands go out of their sight, lest any harm should happen to them, and if they turned at all pale, or had broken sleep, or had lost their appetites, they would nurse them night and day. So afraid were they of becoming widows that they always agreed with their husbands on all points, lest by disagreeing they should bring about an attack of indigestion, or something worse that might produce death.And when their children commenced to grow rapidly, their fears were doubled lest they should become taller than the king; for if they fed them on pudding, which does not promote growth, they incurred the danger of their becoming fat; and if they fed them on meat, so as to make them lean, they would probably grow tall.It very soon became evident that there were more hunchbacks in that country than in any other; for as soon as the children were approaching the forbidden height, their parents would suspend heavy weights from their shoulders, so that their backs became rounded and eventually humped.The young men, when they were at an age to marry, found it very difficult to get any woman to have them, because they were afraid of becoming widows, and also because so many of the men were humpbacked.But, notwithstanding the king’s wickedness, it was admitted by the married men that their condition had considerably improved.There was a wide road made round the cities and towns, on which all who were inclined to be stout, both men and women, would run until they were out of breath, and jump over hurdles; and there were so many of these people that the revenues of the Church commenced to suffer, owing to the decreased demand for “bulls,” as they willingly imposed long fasts on themselves.Now, in the chief city of this country there was a very wise man, well versed in the law and in concocting drugs, for he was the public executioner and the chemist of the place. To him, therefore, went a deputation of the people to lay their grievances before him; and after the spokesman had finished what he had to say, the executioner looked very wise, and, after considering awhile, he said—“Our king’s predecessor was held to be just and generous because he allowed every man to retain a fifth of his produce for the maintenance of his family, and the tax he imposed on this fifth part was always readily paid.” Here he touched the edge of his sharp axe and smiled; and the deputation exclaimed—“Quite right; so it was.”“Now, the present king,” continued the wise man, again feeling the edge of his axe, “has magnanimously increased your loyal tribute to him by one part in a hundred of the produce of the land, and yet you are not satisfied!”“The king’s generosity we all feel,” said the deputation; “but, if we may be allowed to express an opinion to you, sir, we would——”“Certainly you may,” interrupted the man of drugs, running his hand quickly over the axe—“certainly you may; why should you not?”By this time the chief spokesman had got behind the others, and it was very evident that the members of the deputation were becoming aware that the logic of the executioner was too sharp for them.Seeing that they were all silent, the executioner went on to say that the king had, in his opinion, been extremely considerate; for he had, by the law against widows, contributed to the happiness and long life of the husbands; and, by enacting that no man should exceed a certain height or stoutness, they had economized in many ways, for they ate less, and their clothes would cost them less. In fact, he saw no reason for dissatisfaction; but as they had come to him as a deputation, he felt it to be his duty to place their supposed grievances before the king, and he, the executioner, felt certain that the king would reply to them in a suitable manner. And having said this he raised the axe to the light to see that there was no notch on the edge, which caused the deputation to tremble most violently, and to assure the executioner that they were perfectly satisfied, and desired to withdraw.The executioner, however, would not allow them to retire—for the grievances of a people should not be withheld from the king’s ear; but the members of the deputation became so frightened that they made their escape through the windows as fast as they could. And when the king heard all about it he remarked that “Folly had entered with dignity by the door, and Wisdom had unceremoniously escaped through the window.”
The valley of Zoar, in western New York, is so surrounded by hills that its discoverers—a religious people, who gave it a name from Scripture said, “This is Zoar; it is impregnable. From her we will never go.” And truly, for lack of roads, they found it so hard to get out, having got in, that they did not leave it. Among the early settlers here were people of a family named Wright, whose house became a sort of inn for the infrequent traveller, inasmuch as they were not troubled with piety, and had no scruples against the selling of drink and the playing of cards at late hours. A peddler passed through the valley on his way to Buffalo and stopped at the Wright house for a lodging, but before he went to bed he incautiously showed a number of golden trinkets from his pack and drew a considerable quantity of money out of his pocket when he paid the fee for his lodging. Hardly had he fallen asleep before his greedy hosts were in the room, searching for his money. Their lack of caution caused him to awake, and as he found them rifling his pockets and his pack he sprang up and showed fight.A blow sent him to the bottom of the stairs, where his attempt to escape was intercepted, and the family closed around him and bound his arms and legs. They showed him the money they had taken and asked where he had concealed the rest. He vowed that it was all he had. They insisted that he had more, and seizing a knife from the table the elder Wright slashed off one of his toes “to make him confess.” No result came from this, and six toes were cut off,—three from each foot; then, in disgust, the unhappy peddler was knocked on the head and flung through a trap-door into a shallow cellar. Presently he arose and tried to draw himself out, but with hatchet and knife they chopped away his fingers and he fell back. Even the women shared in this work, and leaned forward to gaze into the cellar to see if he might yet be dead. While listening, they heard the man invoke the curse of heaven on them: he asked that they should wear the mark of crime even to the fourth generation, by coming into the world deformed and mutilated as he was then. And it was so. The next child born in that house had round, hoof-like feet, with only two toes, and hands that tapered from the wrist into a single long finger. And in time there were twenty people so deformed in the valley: The “crab-clawed Zoarites” they were called.
There was a great war, and the King had many soldiers, but gave them small pay, so small that they could not live upon it, so three of them agreed among themselves to desert. One of them said to the others, “If we are caught we shall be hanged on the gallows; how shall we manage it?”Another said, “Look at that great cornfield, if we were to hide ourselves there, no one could find us; the troops are not allowed to enter it, and to-morrow they are to march away.”They crept into the corn, only the troops did not march away, but remained lying all round about it. They stayed in the corn for two days and two nights, and were so hungry that they all but died, but if they had come out, their death would have been certain. Then said they, “What is the use of our deserting if we have to perish miserably here?”But now a fiery dragon came flying through the air, and it came down to them, and asked why they had concealed themselves there?  They answered, “We are three soldiers who have deserted because the pay was so bad, and now we shall have to die of hunger if we stay here, or to dangle on the gallows if we go out.”“If you will serve me for seven years,” said the dragon, “I will convey you through the army so that no one shall seize you.”“We have no choice and are compelled to accept,” they replied. Then the dragon caught hold of them with his claws, and carried them away through the air over the army, and put them down again on the earth far from it; but the dragon was no other than the Devil. He gave them a small whip and said, “Whip with it and crack it, and then as much gold will spring up round about as you can wish for; then you can live like great lords, keep horses, and drive your carriages, but when the seven years have come to an end, you are my property.”“Then he put before them a book which they were all three forced to sign.” Illustration by Albert Weisgerber, published in Kinder-Und by Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm, publication date unknown, Derlag von Martin Gerlach & Co.Then he put before them a book which they were all three forced to sign. “I will, however, then set you a riddle,” said he, “and if you can guess that, you shall be free, and released from my power.”Then the dragon flew away from them, and they went away with their whip, had gold in plenty, ordered themselves rich apparel, and travelled about the world. Wherever they were they lived in pleasure and magnificence, rode on horseback, drove in carriages, ate and drank, but did nothing wicked.The time slipped quickly away, and when the seven years were coming to an end, two of them were terribly anxious and alarmed; but the third took the affair easily, and said, “Brothers, fear nothing, my head is sharp enough, I shall guess the riddle.”They went out into the open country and sat down, and the two pulled sorrowful faces. Then an aged woman came up to them who inquired why they were so sad? “Alas!” said they, “how can that concern you? After all, you cannot help us.” “Who knows?” said she, “confide your trouble to me.”So they told her that they had been the Devil’s servants for nearly seven years, and that he had provided them with gold as plentifully as if it had been blackberries, but that they had sold themselves to him, and were forfeited to him, if at the end of the seven years they could not guess a riddle.”The old woman said, “If you are to be saved, one of you must go into the forest, there he will come to a fallen rock which looks like a little house, he must enter that, and then he will obtain help.”The two melancholy ones thought to themselves, “That will still not save us,” and stayed where they were, but the third, the merry one, got up and walked on in the forest until he found the rock-house. In the little house, however, a very aged woman was sitting, who was the Devil’s grandmother, and asked the soldier where he came from, and what he wanted there?He told her everything that had happened, and as he pleased her well, she had pity on him, and said she would help him. She lifted up a great stone which lay above a cellar, and said, “Conceal thyself there, thou canst hear everything that is said here; only sit still, and do not stir. When the dragon comes, I will question him about the riddle, he tells everything to me, so listen carefully to his answer.”At twelve o’clock at night, the dragon came flying thither, and asked for his dinner. The grandmother laid the table, and served up food and drink, so that he was pleased, and they ate and drank together. In the course of conversation, she asked him what kind of a day he had had, and how many souls he had got?“Nothing went very well to-day,” he answered, “but I have laid hold of three soldiers,—I have them safe.”“Indeed! three soldiers, that’s something like, but they may escape you yet.”The Devil said mockingly, “They are mine! I will set them a riddle, which they will never in this world be able to guess!”“What riddle is that?” she inquired.“I will tell you. In the great North Sea lies a dead dog-fish, that shall be your roast meat, and the rib of a whale shall be your silver spoon, and a hollow old horse’s hoof shall be your wine-glass.”When the Devil had gone to bed, the old grandmother raised up the stone, and let out the soldier.“Hast thou paid particular attention to everything?” “Yes,” said he, “I know enough, and will contrive to save myself.”Then he had to go back another way, through the window, secretly and with all speed to his companions. He told them how the Devil had been overreached by the old grandmother, and how he had learned the answer to the riddle from him.Then they were all joyous, and of good cheer, and took the whip and whipped so much gold for themselves that it ran all over the ground. When the seven years had fully gone by, the Devil came with the book, showed the signatures, and said, “I will take you with me to hell. There you shall have a meal! If you can guess what kind of roast meat you will have to eat, you shall be free and released from your bargain, and may keep the whip as well.”Then the first soldier began and said, “In the great North Sea lies a dead dog-fish, that no doubt is the roast meat.”The Devil was angry, and began to mutter “Hm! hm! hm!” and asked the second, “But what will your spoon be?”“The rib of a whale, that is to be our silver spoon.”The Devil made a wry face, again growled,”Hm! hm! hm!” and said to the third, “And do you also know what your wine-glass is to be?”“An old horse’s hoof is to be our wine-glass.”Then the Devil flew away with a loud cry, and had no more power over them, but the three kept the whip, whipped as much money for themselves with it as they wanted, and lived happily to their end.
Several lizards were running about, very quick, in the clefts of an old tree trunk. They could understand one another very well, for they all spoke the lizard language.“Dear, what a rumbling and bumbling there is in the old Elf Hill,” said one of the lizards. “I haven’t been able to close an eye the last two nights for the noise. I might just as well have had the toothache all the time, for I don’t get any sleep then.”“There’s something up there,” said the second lizard, “they stood the hill up on four red stakes right up to cockcrow. It’s had a real good airing, and the Elf girls have learnt some new dances, with stamping in ’em.” “There’s something up. I’ve been talking to a lob-worm I know,” said the third lizard. “He came straight up out of the hill where he’d been burrowing in the ground for nights and days; he’d heard a lot. He can’t see, poor beast, but he can feel about in front of him and listen, that he can do. They’re expecting visitors to-day in the Elf Hill, visitors of distinction, but whom, the lob-worm wouldn’t say, or else he didn’t know. All the will-o’-the-wisps have been summoned to make a torchlight procession—that’s what they call it—and the silver and gold, which there’s a lot of in the hill, is to be polished and set out in the moonlight.”“Now, who can the visitors be?” said all the lizards. “What can be afoot? Listen! What a bustle, what a hustle!”At that very moment the Elf Hill opened, and an old Elf maid (she had no back but was otherwise very well got up) came tripping out. She was the old Elf King’s housekeeper, distantly related to the family, and had an amber heart on her forehead. Her legs went twinkling along. Trip! trip! Bless her heart, how she did trip it—right away down into the marsh, to the night-raven.“You are invited to the Elf Hill, yes, and for tonight,” said she, “but first you’ll do us a very great service, won’t you? Undertake invitations? You can easily manage it, for you’ve no house to look after. We have some very distinguished guests, Troll folk, who are of great importance, and so the old King is going to show himself off.”“Who are to be invited?” asked the night-raven.“Why, to the big ball everybody can come, even humans, if they can talk in their sleep or do any little thing of the kind that belongs to our race; but for the high table there has to be a very strict selection: we want only the most distinguished people. I had quite a quarrel with the King, for I insist that we can’t even have ghosts. The Merman and his daughter must be invited first. They don’t much like coming on the land, but they shall every one of them have a wet stone to sit on, or something better, and in that case I don’t think they’ll refuse this time. All old Trolls of the first class, with tails, the riverman and the nixies, we must have, and I think we can’t pass over the grave-pig, the death-horse and the church brownie. They do belong, properly speaking, to the clergy, who are not of our sort, but that is after all merely official; they are nearly related to us and call on us quite regularly.”“Bra!” said the night-raven, and flew off to invite the guests. The Elf girls were already dancing on the Elf Hill—dancing with long scarves woven of mist and moonshine, which looked exceedingly pretty—to people who like that sort of thing. Inside the Hill the great hall was thoroughly smartened up, the floor washed with moonshine, the walls rubbed down with witches-butter, so that they shone like petals of tulips held up to the light. In the kitchens were quantities of frogs on the spit, snake skins with little children’s fingers in them, salads of toadstool spawn, wet mouse-noses and hemlock, ale of the Marshwoman’s brewing, shining wine of saltpetre from the vault cellars—all this very substantial; rusty nails and church-window glass for cracking at dessert.The old King had his crown polished with powdered slate pencil—sixth form slate pencil—and it is extremely difficult for the Elf King to procure sixth-form slate pencil. In the bedroom they hung the curtains up and made them fast with snail slime. There was a bustle and a hustle, and no mistake.“Now we must fumigate with horse-hair and pigs’ bristles,” said the old Elf maid; “and then I think I shall have done my share.”“Father, darling,” said the youngest of the daughters, “do please tell me who the grand visitors are.”“Well, well,” said he, “I may as well tell you. Two of my daughters must hold themselves in readiness to be married. Two will certainly be. The old Troll gentleman from up in Norway—he, I mean, who lives in the old Dovrefell and owns all the great cliff castles built of boulders, and a gold-mine which is better than folk think—he’s coming down here with his two lads; they’re to look out a wife apiece. The old fellow is a regular honest old Norseman, merry and bright. I know him of old when we drank brotherhood. He was down here then to fetch his wife. She’s dead now; she was a daughter of the cliff King of Moen. He took his wife off the chalk (really on tick), as the saying is. Oh, how I do want to see that oldNorse Troll fellow again! The boys they say are rather unmannerly youngsters—fit for the stick—but that may be doing them an injustice, and no doubt they will be good enough when they’re a bit seasoned. Let me see that you can teach them how to behave.”“And when do they get here?” asked one of the daughters. “That depends on wind and weather,” said the King; “they are travelling cheap: they’re coming here by a chance ship. I wanted them to come overland by Sweden, but the old man doesn’t cotton to that side even now. He doesn’t keep up with the times, and I don’t like that.”At that moment two will-o’-the-wisps came skipping in, one faster than the other, so he arrived first.“They’re coming, they’re coming!” they cried.“Give me my crown and let me stand in the moonlight,” said the King. The daughters gathered up their trains and curtsied down to the ground.There stood the old Troll from the Dovrefell, with a crown of hardened icicles and polished fir cones, and for the rest he had on a bearskin and fur boots. His sons, on the other hand, went bare-headed and without braces, for they were hardy fellows.“That a hill?” asked the youngest boy; and pointed at the Elf Hill. “Up in Norway we should call that a hole.”“Lads,” said the old man, “a hole goes in, a hill sticks out; have you no eyes in your heads?”The only thing that surprised them down here, they said, was that they could understand the talk straight off.“Don’t make an exhibition of yourselves,” said the old man. “Anyone would think you were no more than half baked.”With that they went into the Elf Hill, where a smart company indeed was gathered—in such a hurry one would think they had been blown together—and all the arrangements for everyone were charming and choice. The sea folk sat at table in large tubs of water; they said it was just like being in their own home. Everybody’s table manners were correct except those of the two young Norse Trolls. They put their legs up on the table; but then they imagined that everything they did became them.“Feet out of the food!” said the old Troll, and they obeyed, though not quite promptly. They tickled the ladies next them with fir cones that they’d brought in their pockets, and then took off their boots to be more comfortable, and gave them to the ladies to hold. But their father, the old Troll from Dovrefell, his manners were totally different. He described most delightfully the great Norse fells, and the forces that leapt down them, foaming white, with a booming like the crash of thunder or the peal of an organ. He told of the salmon that leapt up against the rushing water, while the nixie played on his harp of gold. He told of the glistening winter nights when the sleigh bells tinkled and the boys skimmed, with flaming torches, over the bright ice that was so transparent you could see the fish start beneath your feet. Ah, he could tell of it all so that one could see and hear what he described. There were the saw-mills at work, there were the lads and lassies singing ballads and dancing the “Hallinge”. Hurrah! And with that the Troll gave the old Elf maid a smacking uncle’s kiss, a regular buss—and yet they weren’t related—not a bit.“Round and round they went, such whirling and twirling.” Illustration by W. Heath Robinson, published in Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen (1913), Constable.Next the Elf girls had to dance—plain dances and stamping dances, too, and did it well. Then came the figure dances—”treading a measure” as they call it. Bless their hearts! How they did work their legs! You couldn’t tell which was top and which was tail, couldn’t see which was arms and which was legs; they went in and out of each other like wood shavings at the saw-mills, and then they whirled round and round till the death-horse felt sick and had to leave the table.“Prrr,” said the old Troll; “that’s leg-work if you like. But what can they do besides dance and stretch their legs and turn themselves into whirlwinds?” “That you shall see,” said the Elf King; and called up his youngest daughter. She was as slim and clear as moonshine, the most delicate of all the sisters. She took a white chip in her mouth, and there!—she was clean gone! That was her accomplishment. But the old Troll said that was a trick he didn’t care about in a wife, and he didn’t think his boys would like it either.The second could walk by the side of her own self and look as if she had a shadow, which Troll people don’t have.The third was of quite another sort. She had taken lessons in the Marshwoman’s brewery, and it was she who knew how to lard alder stumps with glow-worms. “She’ll make a good housewife,” said the Troll, and winked his eye at her, for he didn’t care to drink many toasts.Then came the fourth Elf girl. She had a great gold harp to play on, and when she struck the first string everybody lifted up their left leg (Troll folk are left-legged), and when she struck the second string, they all had to do what she wanted.“That’s a dangerous woman,” said the Troll; but the two sons went off outside the Hill, for they were bored with the proceedings.“And what can the next daughter do?” inquired the Troll.“I have learnt to love all that is Norse,” said she; “and I shall never marry unless I can go to Norway.”But the littlest of the sisters whispered to the old Troll: “That’s only because she’s heard, in a Norse ballad, that when the world comes to an end the Norse cliffs will still stand, for gravestones, and so she wants to go there; she’s so frightened of being destroyed.”“Oh ho!” said the Troll; “that cat’s out of the bag. But what can the seventh and last do?”“The sixth comes before the seventh,” said the Elf King, for he could count. But the sixth wouldn’t come forward properly. “I can only tell people the truth,” she said. “Nobody cares about me, and I’ve quite enough to do to make my own grave-clothes.”Then came the seventh and last; and what could she do? Why! She could tell stories, as many as ever she liked.“Here are all my five fingers,” said the old Troll; “tell me one for each of ’em.”And the Elf Maid took him by the wrist, and he laughed till he choked, and when she came to Gold Band, that had a gold ring about his waist, as if he knew there was to be a betrothal, the Troll said: “Stick to what you’ve got, the hand is yours: I’ll take you for a wife myself.”The Elf Maid said there were still stories to tell about Gold Band and little Peter Playman. “We’ll hear them in the winter time,” said the Troll; “and we’ll hear about the fir and the birch and the fairy gifts and the ringing frost. You’ll have lots to tell, for there’s no one up there that can do it properly, and we’ll sit in the stone hall where the fir chips blaze, and drink mead out of the golden horns of the old Norse Kings—the Nixie’s given me a couple of them; and while we sit there the Garbo will come and pay us a visit. He’ll sing you all the herd-girls’ songs; it will be jolly. The salmon will leap in the force and dash against the stone walls, but they won’t get in. Ah, you may take it from me, there are good times in dear old Norway. But where are the boys?”Ah! Where were the boys? They were running about in the marsh, blowing out the will-o’-the-wisps, who had come so obligingly, and were to make a torchlight procession.“Gadding about like that!” said the old Troll. “I’ve got a mother for you, and now you may take an aunt for yourselves.”But the boys said they had rather make speeches and drink brotherhood. Marrying? No, they didn’t care about that. So they did make speeches and drank brotherhood, and hung the glasses on their fingertips to show they’d drunk them out; and then took off their coats and lay down on the table to sleep, for they had no false modesty. But the old Troll danced round the room with his young bride, and exchanged boots with her, which is more distinguished than exchanging rings.“There’s the cock crowing,” said the old Elf maid, who was housekeeper. “We must shut the shutters now, to keep the sun from burning us alive.”So the Hill shut.But outside, the lizards still ran up and down the old split tree, and one said to the other: “Oh, how I do like that old Norse Troll, to be sure!”“I like the boys better,” said the lob-worm: but then of course he couldn’t see, poor beast.
Once in summer-time the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the bear heard a bird singing so beautifully that he said, “Brother wolf, what bird is it that sings so well?” “That is the King of the birds,” said the wolf, “before whom we must bow down.” It was, however, in reality the willow-wren (Zaunk”nig). “If that’s the case,” said the bear, “I should very much like to see his royal palace; come, take me thither.” “That is not done quite as you seem to think,” said the wolf; “you must wait until the Queen comes.” Soon afterwards, the Queen arrived with some food in her beak, and the lord King came too, and they began to feed their young ones. The bear would have liked to go at once, but the wolf held him back by the sleeve, and said, “No, you must wait until the lord and lady Queen have gone away again.” So they observed the hole in which was the nest, and trotted away. The bear, however, could not rest until he had seen the royal palace, and when a short time had passed, again went to it. The King and Queen had just flown out, so he peeped in and saw five or six young ones lying in it. “Is that the royal palace?” cried the bear; “it is a wretched palace, and you are not King’s children, you are disreputable children!” When the young wrens heard that, they were frightfully angry, and screamed, “No, that we are not! Our parents are honest people! Bear, thou wilt have to pay for that!”The bear and the wolf grew uneasy, and turned back and went into their holes. The young willow-wrens, however, continued to cry and scream, and when their parents again brought food they said, “We will not so much as touch one fly’s leg, no, not if we were dying of hunger, until you have settled whether we are respectable children or not; the bear has been here and has insulted us!” Then the old King said, “Be easy, he shall be punished,” and he at once flew with the Queen to the bear’s cave, and called in, “Old Growler, why hast thou insulted my children? Thou shalt suffer for it we will punish thee by a bloody war.” Thus war was announced to the Bear, and all four-footed animals were summoned to take part in it, oxen, asses, cows, deer, and every other animal the earth contained. And the willow-wren summoned everything which flew in the air, not only birds, large and small, but midges, and hornets, bees and flies had to come.When the time came for the war to begin, the willow-wren sent out spies to discover who was the enemy’s commander-in-chief. The gnat, who was the most crafty, flew into the forest where the enemy was assembled, and hid herself beneath a leaf of the tree where the watch-word was to be given. There stood the bear, and he called the fox before him and said, “Fox, thou art the most cunning of all animals, thou shalt be general and lead us.” “Good,” said the fox, “but what signal shall we agree upon?” No one knew that, so the fox said, “I have a fine long bushy tail, which almost looks like a plume of red feathers. When I lift my tail up quite high, all is going well, and you must charge; but if I let it hang down, run away as fast as you can.” When the gnat had heard that, she flew away again, and revealed everything, with the greatest minuteness, to the willow-wren. When day broke, and the battle was to begin, all the four-footed animals came running up with such a noise that the earth trembled.“At the third sting, the Fox screamed and down went his tail between his legs.” Illustration by Arthur Rackham, published in Hansel & Grethel & Other Tales by Brothers Grimm (1920), E.P. Dutton and Company.The willow-wren also came flying through the air with his army with such a humming, and whirring, and swarming that every one was uneasy and afraid, and on both sides they advanced against each other. But the willow-wren sent down the hornet, with orders to get beneath the fox’s tail, and sting it with all his might. When the fox felt the first sting, he started so that he drew up one leg, with the pain, but he bore it, and still kept his tail high in the air; at the second sting, he was forced to put it down for a moment; at the third, he could hold out no longer, and screamed out and put his tail between his legs. When the animals saw that, they thought all was lost, and began to fly, each into his hole and the birds had won the battle.Then the King and Queen flew home to their children and cried, “Children, rejoice, eat and drink to your heart’s content, we have won the battle!” But the young wrens said, “We will not eat yet, the bear must come to the nest, and beg for pardon and say that we are honourable children, before we will do that.” Then the willow-wren flew to the bear’s hole and cried, “Growler, thou art to come to the nest to my children, and beg their pardon, or else every rib of thy body shall be broken.” So the bear crept thither in the greatest fear, and begged their pardon. And now at last the young wrens were satisfied, and sat down together and ate and drank, and made merry till quite late into the night.
Once upon a time there lived a poor fisher who built a hut on the banks of a stream which, shunning the glare of the sun and the noise of the towns, flowed quietly past trees and under bushes, listening to the songs of the birds overhead.One day, when the fisherman had gone out as usual to cast his nets, he saw borne towards him on the current a cradle of crystal. Slipping his net quickly beneath it he drew it out and lifted the silk coverlet. Inside, lying on a soft bed of cotton, were two babies, a boy and a girl, who opened their eyes and smiled at him. The man was filled with pity at the sight, and throwing down his lines he took the cradle and the babies home to his wife.The good woman flung up her hands in despair when she beheld the contents of the cradle.‘Are not eight children enough,’ she cried, ‘without bringing us two more? How do you think we can feed them?’‘You would not have had me leave them to die of hunger,’ answered he, ‘or be swallowed up by the waves of the sea? What is enough for eight is also enough for ten.’The wife said no more; and in truth her heart yearned over the little creatures. Somehow or other food was never lacking in the hut, and the children grew up and were so good and gentle that, in time, their foster-parents loved them as well or better than their own, who were quarrelsome and envious. It did not take the orphans long to notice that the boys did not like them, and were always playing tricks on them, so they used to go away by themselves and spend whole hours by the banks of the river. Here they would take out the bits of bread they had saved from their breakfasts and crumble them for the birds. In return, the birds taught them many things: how to get up early in the morning, how to sing, and how to talk their language, which very few people know.But though the little orphans did their best to avoid quarrelling with their foster- brothers, it was very difficult always to keep the peace. Matters got worse and worse till, one morning, the eldest boy said to the twins:‘It is all very well for you to pretend that you have such good manners, and are so much better than we, but we have at least a father and mother, while you have only got the river, like the toads and the frogs.’The poor children did not answer the insult; but it made them very unhappy. And they told each other in whispers that they could not stay there any longer, but must go into the world and seek their fortunes.So next day they arose as early as the birds and stole downstairs without anybody hearing them. One window was open, and they crept softly out and ran to the side of the river. Then, feeling as if they had found a friend, they walked along its banks, hoping that by- and-by they should meet some one to take care of them.The whole of that day they went steadily on without seeing a living creature, till, in the evening, weary and footsore, they saw before them a small hut. This raised their spirits for a moment; but the door was shut, and the hut seemed empty, and so great was their disappointment that they almost cried. However, the boy fought down his tears, and said cheerfully:‘Well, at any rate here is a bench where we can sit down, and when we are rested we will think what is best to do next.’Then they sat down, and for some time they were too tired even to notice anything; but by-and-by they saw that under the tiles of the roof a number of swallows were sitting, chattering merrily to each other. Of course the swallows had no idea that the children understood their language, or they would not have talked so freely; but, as it was, they said whatever came into their heads.‘Good evening, my fine city madam,’ remarked a swallow, whose manners were rather rough and countryfied to another who looked particularly distinguished. ‘Happy, indeed, are the eyes that behold you! Only think of your having returned to your long-forgotten country friends, after you have lived for years in a palace!’‘I have inherited this nest from my parents,’ replied the other, ‘and as they left it to me I certainly shall make it my home. But,’ she added politely, ‘I hope that you and all your family are well?’‘Very well indeed, I am glad to say. But my poor daughter had, a short time ago, such bad inflammation in her eyes that she would have gone blind had I not been able to find the magic herb, which cured her at once.’‘And how is the nightingale singing? Does the lark soar as high as ever? And does the linnet dress herself as smartly?’ But here the country swallow drew herself up.‘I never talk gossip,’ she said severely. ‘Our people, who were once so innocent and well-behaved, have been corrupted by the bad examples of men. It is a thousand pities.’‘What! innocence and good behaviour are not to be met with among birds, nor in the country! My dear friend, what are you saying?’‘The truth and nothing more. Imagine, when we returned here, we met some linnets who, just as the spring and the flowers and the long days had come, were setting out for the north and the cold? Out of pure compassion we tried to persuade them to give up this folly; but they only replied with the utmost insolence.’‘How shocking!’ exclaimed the city swallow.‘Yes, it was. And worse than that, the crested lark, that was formerly so timid and shy, is now no better than a thief, and steals maize and corn whenever she can find them.’‘I am astonished at what you say.’‘You will be more astonished when I tell you that on my arrival here for the summer I found my nest occupied by a shameless sparrow! “This is my nest,” I said. “Yours?” he answered, with a rude laugh. “Yes, mine; my ancestors were born here, and my sons will be born here also.” And at that my husband set upon him and threw him out of the nest. I am sure nothing of this sort ever happens in a town.’‘Not exactly, perhaps. But I have seen a great deal–if you only knew!’‘Oh! do tell us! do tell us!’ cried they all. And when they had settled themselves comfortably, the city swallow began:‘You must know, then that our king fell in love with the youngest daughter of a tailor, who was as good and gentle as she was beautiful. His nobles hoped that he would have chosen a queen from one of their daughters, and tried to prevent the marriage; but the king would not listen to them, and it took place. Not many months later a war broke out, and the king rode away at the head of his army, while the queen remained behind, very unhappy at the separation. When peace was made, and the king returned, he was told that his wife had had two babies in his absence, but that both were dead; that she herself had gone out of her mind and was obliged to be shut up in a tower in the mountains, where, in time, the fresh air might cure her.’‘And was this not true?’ asked the swallows eagerly.‘Of course not,’ answered the city lady, with some contempt for their stupidity. ‘The children were alive at that very moment in the gardener’s cottage; but at night the chamberlain came down and put them in a cradle of crystal, which he carried to the river.‘For a whole day they floated safely, for though the stream was deep it was very still, and the children took no harm. In the morning–so I am told by my friend the kingfisher–they were rescued by a fisherman who lived near the river bank.’The children had been lying on the bench, listening lazily to the chatter up to this point; but when they heard the story of the crystal cradle which their foster-mother had always been fond of telling them, they sat upright and looked at each other.‘Oh, how glad I am I learnt the birds’ language!’ said the eyes of one to the eyes of the other.Meanwhile the swallows had spoken again.‘That was indeed good fortune!’ cried they.‘And when the children are grown up they can return to their father and set their mother free.’‘It will not be so easy as you think,’ answered the city swallow, shaking her head; ‘for they will have to prove that they are the king’s children, and also that their mother never went mad at all. In fact, it is so difficult that there is only one way of proving it to the king.’‘And what is that?’ cried all the swallows at once. ‘And how do you know it?’‘I know it,’ answered the city swallow, ‘because, one day, when I was passing through the palace garden, I met a cuckoo, who, as I need not tell you, always pretends to be able to see into the future. We began to talk about certain things which were happening in the palace, and of the events of past years. “Ah,” said he, “the only person who can expose the wickedness of the ministers and show the king how wrong he has been, is the Bird of Truth, who can speak the language of men.”‘”And where can this bird be found?” I asked.‘”It is shut up in a castle guarded by a fierce giant, who only sleeps one quarter of an hour out of the whole twenty-four,” replied the cuckoo.‘And where is this castle?’ inquired the country swallow, who, like all the rest, and the children most of all, had been listening with deep attention.‘That is just what I don’t know,’ answered her friend. ‘All I can tell you is that not far from here is a tower, where dwells an old witch, and it is she who knows the way, and she will only teach it to the person who promises to bring her the water from the fountain of many colours, which she uses for her enchantments. But never will she betray the place where the Bird of Truth is hidden, for she hates him, and would kill him if she could; knowing well, however, that this bird cannot die, as he is immortal, she keeps him closely shut up, and guarded night and day by the Birds of Bad Faith, who seek to gag him so that his voice should not be heard.’‘And is there no one else who can tell the poor boy where to find the bird, if he should ever manage to reach the tower?’ asked the country swallow.‘No one,’ replied the city swallow, ‘except an owl, who lives a hermit’s life in that desert, and he knows only one word of man’s speech, and that is “cross.” So that even if the prince did succeed in getting there, he could never understand what the owl said. But, look, the sun is sinking to his nest in the depths of the sea, and I must go to mine. Good-night, friends, good-night!’Then the swallow flew away, and the children, who had forgotten both hunger and weariness in the joy of this strange news, rose up and followed in the direction of her flight. After two hours’ walking, they arrived at a large city, which they felt sure must be the capital of their father’s kingdom. Seeing a good-natured looking woman standing at the door of a house, they asked her if she would give them a night’s lodging, and she was so pleased with their pretty faces and nice manners that she welcomed them warmly.It was scarcely light the next morning before the girl was sweeping out the rooms, and the boy watering the garden, so that by the time the good woman came downstairs there was nothing left for her to do. This so delighted her that she begged the children to stay with her altogether, and the boy answered that he would leave his sisters with her gladly, but that he himself had serious business on hand and must not linger in pursuit of it. So he bade them farewell and set out.For three days he wandered by the most out- of-the-way paths, but no signs of a tower were to be seen anywhere. On the fourth morning it was just the same, and, filled with despair, he flung himself on the ground under a tree and hid his face in his hands. In a little while he heard a rustling over his head, and looking up, he saw a turtle dove watching him with her bright eyes.‘Oh dove!’ cried the boy, addressing the bird in her own language, ‘Oh dove! tell me, I pray you, where is the castle of Come-and- never-go?’‘Poor child,’ answered the dove, ‘who has sent you on such a useless quest?’‘My good or evil fortune,’ replied the boy, ‘I know not which.’‘To get there,’ said the dove, ‘you must follow the wind, which to-day is blowing towards the castle.’The boy thanked her, and followed the wind, fearing all the time that it might change its direction and lead him astray. But the wind seemed to feel pity for him and blew steadily on.With each step the country became more and more dreary, but at nightfall the child could see behind the dark and bare rocks something darker still. This was the tower in which dwelt the witch; and seizing the knocker he gave three loud knocks, which were echoed in the hollows of the rocks around.The door opened slowly, and there appeared on the threshold an old woman holding up a candle to her face, which was so hideous that the boy involuntarily stepped backwards, almost as frightened by the troop of lizards, beetles and such creatures that surrounded her, as by the woman herself.‘Who are you who dare to knock at my door and wake me?’ cried she. ‘Be quick and tell me what you want, or it will be the worse for you.’‘Madam,’ answered the child, ‘I believe that you alone know the way to the castle of Come- and-never-go, and I pray you to show it to me.’‘Very good,’ replied the witch, with something that she meant for a smile, ‘but to-day it is late. To-morrow you shall go. Now enter, and you shall sleep with my lizards.’‘I cannot stay,’ said he. ‘I must go back at once, so as to reach the road from which I started before day dawns.’‘If I tell you, will you promise me that you will bring me this jar full of the many- coloured water from the spring in the court- yard of the castle?’ asked she. ‘If you fail to keep your word I will change you into a lizard for ever.’‘I promise,’ answered the boy.Then the old woman called to a very thin dog, and said to him:‘Conduct this pig of a child to the castle of Come-and-never-go, and take care that you warn my friend of his arrival.’ And the dog arose and shook itself, and set out.At the end of two hours they stopped in front of a large castle, big and black and gloomy, whose doors stood wide open, although neither sound nor light gave sign of any presence within. The dog, however, seemed to know what to expect, and, after a wild howl, went on; but the boy, who was uncertain whether this was the quarter of an hour when the giant was asleep, hesitated to follow him, and paused for a moment under a wild olive that grew near by, the only tree which he had beheld since he had parted from the dove. ‘Oh, heaven, help me!’ cried he.‘Cross! cross!’ answered a voice.The boy leapt for joy as he recognised the note of the owl of which the swallow had spoken, and he said softly in the bird’s language:‘Oh, wise owl, I pray you to protect and guide me, for I have come in search of the Bird of Truth. And first I must fill this far with the many-coloured water in the courtyard of the castle.’‘Do not do that,’ answered the owl, ‘but fill the jar from the spring which bubbles close by the fountain with the many-coloured water. Afterwards, go into the aviary opposite the great door, but be careful not to touch any of the bright-plumaged birds contained in it, which will cry to you, each one, that he is the Bird of Truth. Choose only a small white bird that is hidden in a corner, which the others try incessantly to kill, not knowing that it cannot die. And, be quick!–for at this very moment the giant has fallen asleep, and you have only a quarter of an hour to do everything.’The boy ran as fast as he could and entered the courtyard, where he saw the two spring close together. He passed by the many- coloured water without casting a glance at it, and filled the jar from the fountain whose water was clear and pure. He next hastened to the aviary, and was almost deafened by the clamour that rose as he shut the door behind him. Voices of peacocks, voices of ravens, voices of magpies, each claiming to be the Bird of Truth. With steadfast face the boy walked by them all, to the corner, where, hemmed in by a hand of fierce crows, was the small white bird he sought. Putting her safely in his breast, he passed out, followed by the screams of the birds of Bad Faith which he left behind him.Once outside, he ran without stopping to the witch’s tower, and handed to the old woman the jar she had given him.‘Become a parrot!’ cried she, flinging the water over him. But instead of losing his shape, as so many had done before, he only grew ten times handsomer; for the water was enchanted for good and not ill. Then the creeping multitude around the witch hastened to roll themselves in the water, and stood up, human beings again.When the witch saw what was happening, she took a broomstick and flew away.Who can guess the delight of the sister at the sight of her brother, bearing the Bird of Truth? But although the boy had accomplished much, something very difficult yet remained, and that was how to carry the Bird of Truth to the king without her being seized by the wicked courtiers, who would be ruined by the discovery of their plot.Soon–no one knew how–the news spread abroad that the Bird of Truth was hovering round the palace, and the courtiers made all sorts of preparations to hinder her reaching the king.They got ready weapons that were sharpened, and weapons that were poisoned; they sent for eagles and falcons to hunt her down, and constructed cages and boxes in which to shut her up if they were not able to kill her. They declared that her white plumage was really put on to hide her black feathers–in fact there was nothing they did not do in order to prevent the king from seeing the bird or from paying attention to her words if he did.As often happens in these cases, the courtiers brought about that which they feared. They talked so much about the Bird of Truth that at last the king heard of it, and expressed a wish to see her. The more difficulties that were put in his way the stronger grew his desire, and in the end the king published a proclamation that whoever found the Bird of Truth should bring her to him without delay.As soon as he saw this proclamation the boy called his sister, and they hastened to the palace. The bird was buttoned inside his tunic, but, as might have been expected, the courtiers barred the way, and told the child that he could not enter. It was in vain that the boy declared that he was only obeying the king’s commands; the courtiers only replied that his majesty was not yet out of bed, and it was forbidden to wake him.They were still talking, when, suddenly, the bird settled the question by flying upwards through an open window into the king’s own room. Alighting on the pillow, close to the king’s head, she bowed respectfully, and said:‘My lord, I am the Bird of Truth whom you wished to see, and I have been obliged to approach you in the manner because the boy who brought me is kept out of the palace by your courtiers.’‘They shall pay for their insolence,’ said the king. And he instantly ordered one of his attendants to conduct the boy at once to his apartments; and in a moment more the prince entered, holding his sister by the hand.‘Who are you?’ asked the king; ‘and what has the Bird of Truth to do with you?’‘If it please your majesty, the Bird of Truth will explain that herself,’ answered the boy.And the bird did explain; and the king heard for the first time of the wicked plot that had been successful for so many years. He took his children in his arms, with tears in his eyes, and hurried off with them to the tower in the mountains where the queen was shut up. The poor woman was as white as marble, for she had been living almost in darkness; but when she saw her husband and children, the colour came back to her face, and she was as beautiful as ever.They all returned in state to the city, where great rejoicings were held. The wicked courtiers had their heads cut off, and all their property was taken away. As for the good old couple, they were given riches and honour, and were loved and cherished to the end of their lives.
Once upon a time there was a man who had three daughters. When the king called up soldiers for the war, the man had no sons to send. As he sat and pondered what to do, his eldest daughter approached him and inquired, "What are you thinking about, father?" He answered, "Leave me alone, daughter. The king has called up soldiers to go to war and I have no sons. I only have you whom I can't send to war." To this she replied, "Marry me to someone!" Later the second daughter gave the very same answer. The youngest daughter, however, replied, "Don't worry, father, I'll go to war. Have a uniform made for me and cut off my hair so that no one will know that I am a girl. Then give me your horse and weapons." Her father did as she had requested and she set off with the other young men of the village. Everyone who saw the new young man was surprised. And so they departed.
That day, the king had ordered his own son to be taken out of the town to be eaten by a Kulshedra. Every year the Kulshedra would come and devour a number of people. One day the Kulshedra said, "If you don't want me to come back ever again, give me the king's son." And so they brought the king's son to the Kulshedra. When the boy was outside the town, the townspeople all watched the Kulshedra setting upon him to devour him and they were all so frightened that no one even thought of going to his assistance. The disguised girl, however, drew her sabre, slew the Kulshedra and saved the king's son. The news that the Kulshedra had been slain spread immediately to the king who was so overjoyed that he gave orders for a banquet and a gun salute. When the young man entered the palace with the king's son, the son whispered, "My father will offer you a kingdom, but ask only for his horse, because it can think and talk like we do."
When they got to the king, he asked, "Which kingdom would you like to have as your reward?" The young man replied, "My only wish is not to go to war." "Fine," said the king, "I will gladly free you from military service, but which kingdom do you want?" "Well, if you really want to give me something, give me the horse you're sitting on." The king refused, however, and so the young man departed. The king's son followed young man and when the people asked where he was going, he replied, "I am going away with my new father. He saved my life and now he is like a father to me. If my real father cares more for his horse than he does for me, his son, then it is better for me to depart."
When the king heard what his son had said, he changed his mind. They brought the young man the horse and placed a golden saddle on it. The young man (we will call him so though he was actually a girl) mounted the horse and rode off to another kingdom. 
When he arrived, he saw a crowd of people standing before a moat. The young man's horse saw the crowd in the distance and asked its master, "My lord, can you see what they are doing?" "I can see them all right, but I cannot make out what is going on." "The king had the moat dug because he wants to marry his daughter to someone," replied the horse. "The person who can jump over the moat with his horse and catch an apple can have the king's daughter for his wife. It looks, though, as if no one has yet succeeded. I'll jump over the moat. You just hold on tightly. Don't be afraid, and keep an eye out for the apple. When I jump, I'll stumble at the edge of the moat, so grab my mane and hang on." As they talked, the horse approached. Then it took a run at the moat and leapt over it. When it reached the other side, it stumbled on one leg. The young man seized the mane and the horse leapt into the air again so that the young man was able to catch the apple.
Everyone was surprised because many people had tried to jump the moat, but no one had ever succeeded in catching the apple. The king immediately arranged for the wedding and gave his daughter away in marriage. When the marriage ceremony was over, the bride and the groom went to bed, though of course both of them were girls. The next morning, as is custom, the wife was asked how she had spent the night. "Nothing happened," she replied. The second and third nights were the same. The people at the court decided that they would have to kill the young man, but somehow they felt sorry for him. "I know what to do," said one courtier, "we'll send him into the forest to take food to the woodcutters. There is a Kulshedra in the forest who will come and devour him." The groom, however, was standing behind the door and overheard everything. He went back to his horse and sat down despondently. "Why are you so sad?" asked the horse. "Why shouldn't I be?" he replied, "The king wants to send me into the forest so that the Kulshedra will devour me." "Don't be afraid," declared the horse, "Ask him for a cart to carry the food and for a team of oxen, and I'll tell you what to do when we get there." A little later, the father in law summoned the young man and said to him, "Go into the forest and take the woodcutters something to eat." "All right," replied the young man, "but I will need a cart to carry the food." So they gave him what he needed and he set off.
On their way, the horse explained to him, "When we get to the middle of the forest, release one of the oxen and call the woodcutters. The Kulshedra will hear you and rush forth to devour you. But don't worry! Seize it by the ear and put it to the yoke." Hardly had the horse finished explaining when they found themselves in the middle of the forest. The young man released an ox and called the woodcutters. The Kulshedra heard him calling and set upon him, but the young man simply seized it by the ear and put it to the yoke in place of the ox. Then they returned quickly to the king. When the townspeople saw the Kulshedra under the yoke, they were horrified and hid in their houses. The horse then told the young man to release the Kulshedra, which he did.
The bride and groom slept with one another again, but the bride admitted that she had spent the night the same way as she had spent the others. This time the courtiers said, "We'll send him to water the wild mare who devours all living creatures. She will devour him too." The young man overheard everything again and returned despondently to his horse that asked him why he was so sad. The young man recounted, "I escaped from the Kulshedra, but now I am supposed to water a mare which devours all living creatures." "Don't be afraid," said the horse, "she is my mother. Just ask the king for two pails of honey." A little later, the king summoned him and told him to water the mare. The young man then requested two pails of honey, which he received, and set off with his horse.
On their way, the horse said to him, "When we get to the well, draw two pails of water out, pour the two pails of honey into the well and mix everything well. Then hang your saddle nearby so that the mare can see it, and climb up a tall tree. When the mare arrives, she will drink the water, see the golden saddle and say, 'Such sweet water and such a golden saddle! I need a human to sit on me and play with me!' You shout down, 'Here I am, but I'm afraid you will eat me.' She will say, 'No, I won't', and you reply, 'Swear by the head of Demirçil the horse.' She will swear by my head and you can then climb down and mount her." 
The young man did as the horse had told him. The mare arrived, drank some water, looked at the golden saddle and said, "Such sweet water and such a golden saddle! I need a human to sit on me and play with me!" The young man shouted, "Here I am, but I'm afraid you will eat me." "No, I won't." "Swear by the head of Demirçil the horse." She swore and he climbed down the tree, mounted the mare and rode around with her. The mare then said, "I would be even happier if Demirçil were here." "I have your son here too," said the young man, called his horse and they all frolicked together. 
After a while, the young man and his horse returned to the town and the mare accompanied them. When the townspeople saw the wild mare coming, they scream at it to frighten it off. But the mare would not leave. Finally her son begged her to return home and promised her that he would come to play with her again. And so she departed.
The groom returned to the king and slept with the bride once more. Again nothing happened. This time the king resolved to send the young man to a church full of snakes to collect the taxes which the snakes had not been paying for years. The young man overheard everything from behind the door and returned despondently to his horse. The horse asked, "Why are you so sad, my lord?" "This time I am really going to die," he replied, "the king is going to send me to a church full of snakes." "Don't worry," responded the horse, "ask for a waggon covered with bells and for some donkeys to transport the money." The young man did as the horse had said and his father in law told him that he would have to go to the church. When they left, they took the wild mare with them, and the horse and mare explained to the young man what he had to do. "My mother and I," said the stallion, "will guard the doors and neigh loudly. You climb in through the window with all the bells and ring them. The snakes will then cry out and ask whether we are gods come to torture them. You demand the king's taxes and say that God will destroy them if they don't pay up."
When they got to the church, they did everything as planned. The snakes were so frightened by the bells and the noise the horses were making that they brought out heaps of money. When the three were on their way home, the snakes slithered after them and set upon the young man, but were unable to do him any harm. 
Then they cursed him, saying, "If you who have taken our money away are a boy, may you be transformed into a girl, and if you are a girl, may you be transformed into a boy," and the girl suddenly realized that she had been turned into a boy. 
They returned to the king and when the bride and groom got up the next morning, the young woman, on being asked how she had spent the night, replied, "You don't need to ask any more questions. I spent a wonderful night."
The fairy tale is over and wishes you all the best.
Old Kaddy was a baby-farmer, and one day she went to the woods to gather sticks for her fire, and whilst she was gathering the sticks she found a piece of gold, and took it home; but she never told anyone she had found the money, for she always pretended to be very poor.But though she was so poor, she used to dress two of her children in fine clothes; but the others, whom she did not like, she kept in the filthiest rags.One day a man knocked at her door, and asked to see the children.He sat down in her little room, and she went and brought the ragged little boy and girl, saying she was very poor, and couldn’t afford to dress them better; for she had been careful to hide the well-dressed little boy and girl in a cockloft.After the stranger had gone she went to the cockloft to look for her well-dressed favourites, but they had disappeared, and they were never seen afterwards, for they were turned into fairies.
A Spendthrift, who had wasted his fortune, and had nothing left but the clothes in which he stood, saw a Swallow one fine day in early spring. Thinking that summer had come, and that he could now do without his coat, he went and sold it for what it would fetch. A change, however, took place in the weather, and there came a sharp frost which killed the unfortunate Swallow. When the Spendthrift saw its dead body he cried, “Miserable bird! Thanks to you I am perishing of cold myself.”One swallow does not make summer.
There was once a woman who had a little son of about seven years old, who was so lovely and beautiful that no one could look upon him without being kind to him, and he was dearer to her than all the world beside. It happened that he suddenly fell ill and died, and his mother would not be comforted, but wept for him day and night. Shortly after he was buried he showed himself at night in the places where he had been used in his lifetime to sit and play, and if his mother wept, he wept also, and when the morning came he departed. Since his mother never ceased weeping, the child came one night in the little white shroud in which he had been laid in his coffin, and with the chaplet upon his head, and seating himself at her feet, upon the bed, he cried—“O mother, mother, give over crying, else I cannot stop in my coffin, for my shroud is never dry because of your tears, for they fall upon it.”When his mother heard this she was sore afraid, and wept no more. And the babe came upon another night, holding in his hand a little taper, and he said—“Look, mother, my shroud is now quite dry, and I can rest in my grave.”Then she bowed to the will of Providence, and bore her sorrow with silence and patience, and the little child returned not again, but slept in his underground bed.
Once, long ago, before the white man came to Canada, an orphan boy was living alone with his uncle. He was not very happy, for he had to work very hard, and tasks more fitted for a man’s shoulders than for a boy’s were often placed upon him. When his parents died and left him without brother or sister, his uncle took him to his own home because there was no one else to take care of him. But he treated him very cruelly and often he wished to get rid of him. It did not matter how well the boy did his work or how many fish and animals he caught, his uncle was never satisfied, and often he beat the boy harshly and with little reason. The boy would have run away, but he did not know where to go, and he was scared to wander alone in the dark forest. So he decided to endure his hardships as best he could.Now it happened that in a distant village near the sea, there lived a Chief who was noted far and wide for his cruelty. He had a wicked temper, and he was known to have put many people to death for no reason whatsoever. More than all else, he hated boastfulness and he had scanty patience with anyone who was vain of his own strength. He pledged himself always to humble the proud and to debase the haughty. The boy’s uncle had heard of this wicked ruler, and he said, “Here is a chance for me to get rid of the boy. I will tell lies about him to the Chief.”It chanced just at this time that three giants came into the Chief’s territory. Where they came from, no man knew, but they lived in a large cave near the sea, and they caused great havoc and destruction in all the land. They ate up great stores of food, and all the little children they could lay their hands on. The Chief used every means to get rid of the giants, but without success. Night after night his best warriors went to the cave by the ocean to seek out the giants, but not a man returned. A piece of birch bark bearing a picture of a warrior with an arrow in his heart, found the next day at the Chief’s door, always told him of the warrior’s fate. And the giants continued their cruel work, for no one could stop them.Soon all the country was in great terror. The Chief wondered greatly what was to be done. At last he thought, “I will give my daughter to the man who can rid me of these pests.” His daughter was his only child and she was very beautiful, and he knew that many suitors would now appear to seek her hand, for although the task was dangerous, the prize was worth while.When the wicked uncle in the distant village heard of it, he thought, “Now I can get rid of the boy, for I will tell the Chief that the boy says he can kill the giants.” So taking his nephew with him he went to the Chief’s house and begged to see him. “Oh, Chief,” he said, “I have a boy who boasts that before many days have passed, he can free your land from the giants.”And the Chief said, “Bring him to me.” The man said, “Here he is.” The Chief was surprised when he saw the small boy, and he said, “You have promised that you can rid my land of giants. Now we shall see if you can do it. If you succeed you may have my daughter. If you fail, you will die. If you escape from the giants, I will kill you myself. I hate vain boasters, and they shall not live in my land.”The boy went and sat by the ocean, and cried as hard as he could. He thought that he would surely die, for he was very small and he had no means of killing the giants. But as he sat there an old woman came along. She came quietly and quickly out of the grey mist of the sea. And she said, “Why are you crying?” And the boy said, “I am crying because I am forced to attack the giants in the cave, and if I cannot kill them I shall surely die,” and he cried louder than before.But the old woman, who was the good fairy of the sea, said, “Take this bag and this knife and these three little stones that I will give you, and when you go tonight to the giants’ cave, use them as I tell you and all will be well.” She gave him three small white stones and a small knife, and a bag like the bladder of a bear, and she taught him how to use them. Then she disappeared into the grey mist that hung low on the ocean and the boy never saw her again.The boy lay down on the sand and went to sleep. When he awoke, the moon was shining, and far along the coast in the bright light he could see an opening in the rocks which he knew was the entrance to the giants’ cave. Taking his bag and his knife and the three little stones, he approached it cautiously with a trembling heart. When he reached the mouth of the cave, he could hear the giants snoring inside, all making different noises, louder than the roar of the sea. Then he remembered the old woman’s instructions. He tied the bag inside his coat so that the mouth of it was close to his chin. Then he took one of the stones from his pocket. At once it grew to immense size, so heavy that the boy could scarcely hold it. He threw it at the biggest giant with great force, and it hit him squarely on the head.The giant sat up staring wildly and rubbing his brow. He kicked his younger brother, who was lying beside him, and said in great anger, “Why did you strike me?” “I did not strike you,” said his brother. “You struck me on the head while I slept,” said the giant, “and if you do it again I will kill you.” Then they went to sleep again.When the boy heard them snoring loudly again, he took a second stone from his pocket. At once it grew great in size and the boy hurled it with great force at the biggest giant. Again the giant sat up staring wildly and rubbing his head. But this time he did not speak. He grasped his axe, which was lying beside him, and killed his brother with a blow. Then he went to sleep again. When the boy heard him snoring, he took the third stone from his pocket. At once it grew to great size and weight, and he hurled it with all his force at the giant.Again the giant sat up with great staring eyes, rubbing the lump on his head. He was now in a great rage. “My brothers have plotted to kill me,” he yelled, and seizing his axe he killed his remaining brother with a blow. Then he went to sleep, and the boy slipped from the cave, first gathering up the three stones, which were now back to their usual small size.The next morning when the giant went to get water from the stream, the boy hid in the trees and began to cry loudly. The giant soon discovered him and asked, “Why are you crying?” “I have lost my way,” said the boy, “my parents have gone and left me. Please take me into your service, for I would like to work for such a kind handsome man, and I can do many things.”The giant was flattered by what the boy said, and although he liked to eat little children, he thought, “Now that I am alone, I ought to have a companion, so I will spare the boy’s life and make him my servant.” And he took the boy back to his cave, and said, “Cook my dinner before I come home. Make some good stew, for I shall be very hungry.”When the giant went into the forest, the boy prepared the evening meal. He cut up a great store of deer meat and put it in a large pot bigger than a barrel, and made a good meat stew. When the giant came home in the evening he was very hungry, and he was well pleased to see the big pot filled with his favorite food. He seated himself on one side of the pot, and the boy seated himself on the other side, and they dipped their spoons into the big dish.And the boy said, “We must eat it all up so that I can clean the pot well and ready for the corn mush we will have for breakfast.”The stew was very hot, and to cool it before he ate it, the giant blew his breath on what he dipped out. But the boy poured his own share into the bag under his coat, and said, “Why can’t you eat hot food—a big man like you? In my country men never stop to cool their stew with their breath.” Now the giant could not see very well, for his eyesight was not very good, and the cave was dark, and he did not notice the boy putting the stew in the bag so quickly. He thought the boy was eating it. And he was shamed by the boy’s taunts because he was so much larger than the boy, so he ate up the hot stew at once in great gulps and burned his throat badly. But he was too proud to stop or to complain.When they had eaten half the potful, the giant said, “I am full. I think I have had enough.” “No, indeed,” said the boy, “you must show that you like my cooking. In my country men eat much more than that,” and he kept on eating. The giant was not to be outdone by a boy, so he fell to eating again, and they did not stop until they had consumed the whole potful of stew. But the boy had poured his share into the bag and when they had finished he was swelled out to an immense size. The giant could scarcely move, he had eaten so much, and he said, “I have eaten too much; I feel very full, and I have a great pain in my belly.” And the boy said, “I do not feel very comfortable myself, but I have a way to cure pains.” So saying he took his little knife and thrust it gently into the side of the bag and the stew oozed out and he was soon back to his normal size. The giant wondered greatly at the sight, but the boy said, “It is a way they have in my country after they have had a great feast.”“Does the knife not hurt?” asked the giant.“No, indeed,” said the boy, “it brings great relief.”“My throat is very sore,” said the giant, for the hot stew had burned him.“You will soon feel better,” said the boy, “if you will do as I have done.” The giant hesitated to do this, but soon he felt so uncomfortable that he could bear it no longer. He saw that the boy was feeling quite well. So he took his long knife and plunged it into his stomach. “Strike hard,” said the boy, “or it will do you no good.” The giant plunged the knife into the hilt, and in an instant he fell dead.Then the boy took the stones and the bag and the knife which the Woman of the Mist had given him and went and told the Chief what he had done. The Chief sent his messengers to the cave to make sure that the boy spoke the truth. Sure enough, they found the three giants lying dead. When they told the Chief what they had seen, he said to the boy, “You may have my daughter as your wife.”But the boy said, “I do not want your daughter. She is too old and fat. I want only traps to catch fish and game.” So the Chief gave the boy many good traps, and he went into a far country to hunt game, and there he lived happily by himself. And his wicked uncle never saw him again. But the land was troubled no more by giants, because of the boy’s great deeds.
Once upon a time there was a poor man who had one son. One day the son found a snake almost frozen to death and took it home with him. When the little snake had recovered in the warmth of the house, it said to the boy, "I cannot repay you for what you have done but come with me to my father. When he asks you what he can do to repay you, ask only for his cigarette case. In the case is a strand of hair, and when you shake it, it will make all your wishes come true."They went off to the little snake's parents who were overjoyed to see their son again. The snake's father asked the youth what he wanted as a reward for having saved their son's life and the youth asked for the case as the little snake had told him. The father became angry and refused to part with his cigarette case. He said to the youth, "I'll give you absolutely anything you want, except for this case." When the youth got up to leave and the little snake set out to follow him, the mother began to weep and implored her husband, "It is better to give him what he wants than for us to lose our son." She would not let her son leave and both of them begged the father until at last he gave in. The little snake called the youth back and the father gave him the cigarette case. Then the youth returned home.
At that time, the king had just proclaimed throughout his territories that all the young men of the country were to assemble in front of his palace because his daughter wished to choose a husband. The princess would throw an apple to the man she wanted. So the youth set out for the assembly. On his way, he shook the case and received handsome garments and a white horse. He let all the other young men go before him and was the last to arrive in front of the palace. The maiden did not care for any of the men who were already assembled there and when the youth finally appeared, she threw him the apple. The king summoned the youth and they agreed to hold the wedding celebration in four months' time. A few days later, the youth went back to his home. 
As the wedding approached, he shook his case and a palace appeared. When the villagers woke the next morning, they looked at one another in utter amazement and wondered who could possibly have built the palace in such a short time. Finally, one Saturday evening, the youth went to fetch his bride and they celebrated for several days. The bride and groom spent a week with the king and then returned to the youth's own palace. 
After a while, the youth's father in law went to war with another king and summoned all his warriors. He called his son in law too and made him commander in chief of the army. While the youth was at war, the king called his daughter to him and asked her whether she was happy with her husband. She told him that she had no maids or butlers and that all her wishes were granted whenever her husband shook his cigarette case. The king convinced his daughter to steal the case from her husband, but she did not know where he kept it hidden. 
In this long ago time all the birds and animals could speak, so the king asked the animals which one of them could find out where his son in law had hidden the cigarette case. "I'll find it," promised the mouse. "When you go to bed, just set out a lamp with some petroleum in it." When everyone had gone to bed and was fast asleep, the mouse dipped its tail into the petroleum and stuck it in the son in law's nose. The youth sneezed and the case fell out. The mouse seized the case and ran off with it to the king. 
The son in law understood at once that he had lost the case when he sneezed and immediately got up to look for it. He searched the palace from top to bottom but could not find it anywhere, and thought that it must have fallen into a mousehole. He knew that without his case he would become poor again. 
But the king, who now knew best of all where the case was, summoned his son in law and daughter to him and bestowed upon them a kingdom of their own where they lived happily ever after.
A long time ago there was a very big crab which crawled into the sea. And when he went in he crowded the water out so that it ran all over the earth and covered all the land.Now about one moon before this happened, a wise man had told the people that they must build a large raft. They did as he commanded and cut many large trees, until they had enough to make three layers. These they bound tightly together, and when it was done they fastened the raft with a long rattan cord to a big pole in the earth.Soon after this the floods came. White water poured out of the hills, and the sea rose and covered even the highest mountains. The people and animals on the raft were safe, but all the others drowned.When the waters went down and the raft was again on the ground, it was near their old home, for the rattan cord had held.But these were the only people left on the whole earth.
There was once a Man who had to take a long journey, and when he was saying good-bye to his daughters he asked what he should bring back to them.The eldest wanted pearls, the second diamonds, but the third said, ‘Dear father, I should like a singing, soaring lark.’The father said, ‘Very well, if I can manage it, you shall have it’; and he kissed all three and set off. He bought pearls and diamonds for the two eldest, but he had searched everywhere in vain for the singing, soaring lark, and this worried him, for his youngest daughter was his favourite child.Once his way led through a wood, in the midst of which was a splendid castle; near it stood a tree, and right up at the top he saw a lark singing and soaring. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I have come across you in the nick of time’; and he called to his Servant to dismount and catch the little creature. But as he approached the tree a Lion sprang out from underneath, and shook himself, and roared so that the leaves on the tree trembled.‘Who dares to steal my lark?’ said he. ‘I will eat up the thief!’Then the Man said, ‘I didn’t know that the bird was yours. I will make up for my fault by paying a heavy ransom. Only spare my life.’But the Lion said, ‘Nothing can save you, unless you promise to give me whatever first meets you when you get home. If you consent, I will give you your life and the bird into the bargain.’But the Man hesitated, and said, ‘Suppose my youngest and favourite daughter were to come running to meet me when I go home!’But the Servant was afraid, and said, ‘Your daughter will not necessarily be the first to come to meet you; it might just as well be a cat or a dog.’So the Man let himself be persuaded, took the lark, and promised to the Lion for his own whatever first met him on his return home. When he reached home, and entered his house, the first person who met him was none other than his youngest daughter; she came running up and kissed and caressed him, and when she saw that he had brought the singing, soaring lark, she was beside herself with joy. But her father could not rejoice; he began to cry, and said, ‘My dear child, it has cost me dear, for I have had to promise you to a Lion who will tear you in pieces when he has you in his power.’ And he told her all that had happened, and begged her not to go, come what might.But she consoled him, saying, ‘Dear father, what you have promised must be performed. I will go and will soon soften the Lion’s heart, so that I shall come back safe and sound.’ The next morning the way was shown to her, and she said good-bye and went confidently into the forest.Now the Lion was an enchanted Prince, who was a Lion by day, and all his followers were Lions too; but by night they reassumed their human form. On her arrival she was kindly received, and conducted to the castle. When night fell, the Lion turned into a handsome man, and their wedding was celebrated with due magnificence. And they lived happily together, sitting up at night and sleeping by day. One day he came to her and said, ‘To-morrow there is a festival at your father’s house to celebrate your eldest sister’s wedding; if you would like to go my Lions shall escort you.’She answered that she was very eager to see her father again, so she went away accompanied by the Lions.There was great rejoicing on her coming, for they all thought that she had been torn to pieces and had long been dead.But she told them what a handsome husband she had and how well she fared; and she stayed with them as long as the wedding festivities lasted. Then she went back again into the wood.When the second daughter married, and the youngest was again invited to the wedding, she said to the Lion, ‘This time I will not go alone, you must come too.’But the Lion said it would be too dangerous, for if a gleam of light touched him he would be changed into a Dove and would have to fly about for seven years.‘Ah,’ said she, ‘only go with me, and I will protect you and keep off every ray of light.’So they went away together, and took their little child with them too. They had a hall built with such thick walls that no ray could penetrate, and thither the Lion was to retire when the wedding torches were kindled. But the door was made of fresh wood which split and caused a little crack which no one noticed.Now the wedding was celebrated with great splendour. But when the procession came back from church with a large number of torches and lights, a ray of light no broader than a hair fell upon the Prince, and the minute this ray touched him he was changed; and when his wife came in and looked for him, she saw nothing but a White Dove sitting there. The Dove said to her, ‘For seven years I must fly about the world; every seventh step I will let fall a drop of blood and a white feather which will show you the way, and if you will follow the track you can free me.’Thereupon the Dove flew out of the door, and she followed it, and every seventh step it let fall a drop of blood and a little white feather to show her the way. So she wandered about the world, and never rested till the seven years were nearly passed. Then she rejoiced, thinking that she would soon be free of her troubles; but she was still far from release. One day as they were journeying on in the accustomed way, the feather and the drop of blood ceased falling, and when she looked up the Dove had vanished.‘Man cannot help me,’ she thought. So she climbed up to the Sun and said to it, ‘You shine upon all the valleys and mountain peaks, have you not seen a White Dove flying by?’‘No,’ said the Sun, ‘I have not seen one; but I will give you a little casket. Open it when you are in dire need.’She thanked the Sun, and went on till night, when the Moon shone out. ‘You shine all night,’ she said, ‘over field and forest, have you seen a White Dove flying by?’‘No,’ answered the Moon, ‘I have seen none; but here is an egg. Break it when you are in great need.’She thanked the Moon, and went on till the Night Wind blew upon her. ‘You blow among all the trees and leaves, have not you seen a White Dove?’ she asked.‘No,’ said the Night Wind, ‘I have not seen one; but I will ask the other three Winds, who may, perhaps, have seen it.’The East Wind and the West Wind came, but they had seen no Dove. Only the South Wind said, ‘I have seen the White Dove. It has flown away to the Red Sea, where it has again become a Lion, since the seven years are over; and the Lion is ever fighting with a Dragon who is an enchanted Princess.’Then the Night Wind said, ‘I will advise you. Go to the Red Sea, you will find tall reeds growing on the right bank; count them, and cut down the eleventh, strike the Dragon with it and then the Lion will be able to master it, and both will regain human shape. Next, look round, and you will see the winged Griffin, who dwells by the Red Sea, leap upon its back with your beloved, and it will carry you across the sea. Here is a nut. Drop it when you come to mid-ocean; it will open immediately and a tall nut-tree will grow up out of the water, on which the Griffin will settle. Could it not rest, it would not be strong enough to carry you across, and if you forget to drop the nut, it will let you fall into the sea.’Then she journeyed on, and found everything as the Night Wind had said. She counted the reeds by the sea and cut off the eleventh, struck the Dragon with it, and the Lion mastered it; immediately both regained human form. But when the Princess who had been a Dragon was free from enchantment, she took the Prince in her arms, seated herself on the Griffin’s back, and carried him off. And the poor wanderer, again forsaken, sat down and cried. At last she took courage and said to herself: ‘Wherever the winds blow, I will go, and as long as cocks crow, I will search till I find him.’So she went on a long, long way, till she came to the castle where the Prince and Princess were living. There she heard that there was to be a festival to celebrate their wedding. Then she said to herself, ‘Heaven help me,’ and she opened the casket which the Sun had given her; inside it was a dress, as brilliant as the Sun itself. She took it out, put it on, and went into the castle, where every one, including the Bride, looked at her with amazement. The dress pleased the Bride so much that she asked if it was to be bought.‘Not with gold or goods,’ she answered; ‘but with flesh and blood.’The Bride asked what she meant, and she answered, ‘Let me speak with the Bridegroom in his chamber to-night.’The Bride refused. However, she wanted the dress so much that at last she consented; but the Chamberlain was ordered to give the Prince a sleeping draught.At night, when the Prince was asleep, she was taken to his room. She sat down and said: ‘For seven years I have followed you. I have been to the Sun, and the Moon, and the Four Winds to look for you. I have helped you against the Dragon, and will you now quite forget me?’But the Prince slept so soundly that he thought it was only the rustling of the wind among the pine-trees. When morning came she was taken away, and had to give up the dress; and as it had not helped her she was very sad, and went out into a meadow and cried. As she was sitting there, she remembered the egg which the Moon had given her; she broke it open, and out came a hen and twelve chickens, all of gold, who ran about chirping, and then crept back under their mother’s wings. A prettier sight could not be seen. She got up and drove them about the meadow, till the Bride saw them from the window. The chickens pleased her so much that she asked if they were for sale. ‘Not for gold and goods, but for flesh and blood. Let me speak with the Bridegroom in his chamber once more.’The Bride said ‘Yes,’ intending to deceive her as before; but when the Prince went to his room he asked the Chamberlain what all the murmuring and rustling in the night meant. Then the Chamberlain told him how he had been ordered to give him a sleeping draught because a poor girl had been concealed in his room, and that night he was to do the same again. ‘Pour out the drink, and put it near my bed,’ said the Prince. At night she was brought in again, and when she began to relate her sad fortunes he recognised the voice of his dear wife, sprang up, and said, ‘Now I am really free for the first time. All has been as a dream, for the foreign Princess cast a spell over me so that I was forced to forget you; but heaven in a happy hour has taken away my blindness.’Then they both stole out of the castle, for they feared the Princess’s father, because he was a sorcerer. They mounted the Griffin, who bore them over the Red Sea, and when they got to mid-ocean, she dropped the nut. On the spot a fine nut-tree sprang up, on which the bird rested; then it took them home, where they found their child grown tall and beautiful, and they lived happily till the end.
Two men were traveling in company on their way to a distant city. Each had a bag of food to support him on the journey, which would last several days. They agreed to first eat the provision of one man, and when that was finished to consume that of the other, which they expected would be sufficient to last during their journey. But when the store of the first man was finished, the second man would not allow his companion to use his own bag, as they had previously agreed.“For Heaven’s sake, Jack!” exclaimed the first man, “give me something to eat. If you will not bestow it in return for my bread, give it as charity. Otherwise, I shall starve and die in this wilderness, while my family and children will be left paupers. Spare me, Jack, spare me!”But it was impossible to persuade the second man, who refused, saying:“No, I will give you nothing, lest the bread should not be enough for both. I will eat my own food and go. I don’t care for you.”Can a hungry man walk? The one who had the provision bag went on ahead, leaving his starving companion behind. For a while the poor man walked, casting earth in his mouth and drinking water from every brook until sunset, when he came to a ruined mill.“Let me lodge in this ruined mill,” he thought. “Heaven is merciful.”There was nothing in the ruined mill, except an old tambourine which hung from the wall. In order not to be torn by wild beasts, the man entered the grain holder of the mill and tried to sleep. At midnight he saw a bear enter the mill and sit opposite the grain holder. Soon arrived a wolf, and took his seat near the bear, and at last came a fox, and sat next to the wolf. The wolf asked the bear, saying:“How is it with you, brother bear? How do you fill that great stomach of yours, when game is so scarce nowadays?”“I never am in trouble because of scarcity of food,” answered the bear. “I find plenty of vegetables in the neighborhood, which have delicious roots. When I am hungry I dig some of these and appease my hunger.”“This is good!” thought the hungry man, in his concealment.“And how is it with you, brother wolf,” asked the fox. “Do you ever succeed in satisfying your gluttonous appetite, now that every shepherd keeps a cursed dog?”“Oh, never mention that,” answered the wolf, sighing deeply. “I have been planning all the time, during the past two or three months, to snatch some morsels from the flocks of the mayor of Greendale, but I never succeed in approaching the flock for fear of the big black dog, who never leaves the sheep. I do not know why the doctors do not kill that cursed dog, and bathe with its blood the King’s son, who would at once be healed from the disease which has been tormenting him so long that the doctors have given up hope. By this means the poor lad would be cured and the obstacle before me would be removed.”“Good!” thought the man to himself.“And how is it with you, brother fox?” asked the bear. “How are you getting along?”“Gramercy!” said Reynard, “although I am not as strong as you are, yet Heaven has given me wisdom and dexterity, and I have never been troubled by hunger. Eh! I have accumulated some wealth also. I have a jug full of gold hidden under yonder sycamore tree, and another under the threshold of this mill. I get the gold pieces out once a day and enjoy myself in playing with them. Then I put them into the jugs and hide them once more.”“Very good!” said the man to himself.The man took courage; his mind began to work; he suddenly took hold of the tambourine and began to play on it. Hearing this, the beasts ran away and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. They thought a wedding procession was coming; and beasts are very much afraid of wedding processions. By this time it was daybreak. The man came out from his concealment, took the two jugs full of gold, filled his pockets, and hid the remainder in another place. He dug the roots which the bear had recommended and satisfied his hunger. He then asked the way to the village of Greendale and became a guest in the mayor’s house. As he provided costly presents both for the mayor and the members of his family, they were all highly pleased with him. In the morning he heard the mayor whispering with the members of his family as to the present they could make their guest in recompense for his costly offerings. Thereupon the man said:“I have admired the black dog of your flock; I wish I could have one like it.”“Since your desire is for that black dog,” answered the mayor, “you may have it; we can easily find another dog for the flock.”The man put a rope around the neck of the dog, and taking with him a skin bottle, withdrew to a lonely place, where he cut the throat of the dog, and caught its blood in the skin. Taking the skinful of dog’s blood, he went to the city and presenting himself to the King, said:“I am a doctor; I can heal your son.”“If you can heal my son,” said the King, “I will assure you the second place in the kingdom after my death; but if you do not heal him, I will cut off your head.”“May your son himself enjoy your throne,” said the man; “but if I do not heal him my head is yours.”The King consented, and the man took the invalid Prince, who was very weak and upon his deathbed, to a room alone, where he applied the dog’s blood over all his body, and laid him to sleep. Towards evening the lad had perspired and became wet all over. The assumed doctor washed him, and once more applied the dog’s blood. He continued this treatment two days; on the third day the lad was cured, his body being as sound as that of a newly born babe. The man took the Prince to the King, who was so much pleased that he presented the physician with a magnificent palace, and abundant wealth. Not only the court but all the people of the country loved the man for his generous spirit. He sought and obtained the rest of the fox’s treasure, which he had hidden, and caused his family to be brought to his new palace, where they lived a happy life, and praised Heaven.But what became of his niggardly companion, who had refused to give away a slice of bread? He reached his destination safely, but never attained success there, and was obliged to go from city to city seeking work to earn a living. At last he came to the city where his fortunate companion lived, and seeing him enjoying a princely life, asked him how he attained it. His former comrade told him everything. Thereupon the man hastened to the ruined mill, with the expectation that he also would attain good luck, and hid himself in the grain holder. The beasts again came to hold a meeting.“Mr. Chairman,” said Reynard to the bear, as soon as they came in, “before we commence our deliberations, we would better look carefully and see if there is a human being near by to hear us. Because I have been robbed since our last meeting.”They all got up to look around, and lo! there was a man in the grain holder.“Vile intruder!” exclaimed the fox, biting the man’s legs madly. The bear gave him some violent blows on the head with his heavy paws which made him fall senseless, and the wolf tore him into pieces. Thus ended the life of this niggardly man.
Some Cranes made their feeding grounds on some plowlands newly sown with wheat. For a long time the Farmer, brandishing an empty sling, chased them away by the terror he inspired; but when the birds found that the sling was only swung in the air, they ceased to take any notice of it and would not move. The Farmer, on seeing this, charged his sling with stones, and killed a great number. The remaining birds at once forsook his fields, crying to each other, “It is time for us to be off to Liliput: for this man is no longer content to scare us, but begins to show us in earnest what he can do.”If words suffice not, blows must follow.
One day, a long time ago, some men went to the mountains to hunt deer and wild pig, and among them was one named Sogsogot.They all went into the thick forest to look for game, but after a while Sogsogot called his dog and withdrew to an open spot near by, where he waited for the deer to come out.While he stood there eagerly watching, a big bird swooped down, caught him in its claws, and carried him away. Far off over the mountains the bird soared, until finally it came to a big tree where it had its nest, and here it left the man and flew away.Sogsogot’s first thought was to make his escape, but he found that the tree was so tall that he could not get down, and after a time he ceased his attempts to get away and began to look over his companions in the nest—two young birds and three little pigs.By and by he became hungry, so he cut up the three little pigs, and after he had eaten all he wished he fed the two birds. When this meat was gone the mother bird brought more pigs and deer, and the man had all he could eat. Then he fed the little birds, which grew very fast and soon were able to fly. One day when they were standing on the edge of the nest Sogsogot caught hold of the birds’ legs, and they fluttered down and carried him safely to the ground.He hastened home as fast as he could go and told the people of his wonderful trip. They made a ceremony for the spirits, and all the people rejoiced that the lost man had returned.Some time after this Sogsogot went to a hostile town to fight, and while he was gone his wife died. On the way back to his town he met the spirit of his wife driving a cow and two pigs, and not knowing that she was a spirit he asked her where she was going.“I am not a person any more,” she answered him; “I am dead.” And when he wanted to touch her hand, she gave him only her shortest finger. He begged to go with her so she said, “Go first to our home and get a white chicken; then follow the footmarks of the cow and pigs.”He did as she commanded him, and after a while he came to a place where she was bathing in the river. She said to him:“Now you may come with me to our spirit town. I shall hide you in the rice-bin and shall bring food to you every day. But at night the people in the town will want to eat you, and when they come to the bin you must take some of the feathers of the white chicken and throw at them.”The man went with her, and when they arrived at the spirit town she hid him in the rice-bin. At night the people came to eat him, as she had said they would; but when he threw the chicken feathers at them they were frightened away.For two weeks Sogsogot lived in this place, but when the feathers were nearly gone he was afraid to stay any longer, for every night the spirits came to eat him. He begged his wife to allow him to go, and finally she showed him the way home, giving him rice to eat on his journey.As soon as the man arrived home and inquired for his wife, the people told him that she had died and they had buried her under the house. Then he knew that it was her spirit that had taken him to the strange town.
In the country of Uttara there lived a Brâhmiṇ named Kusalanatha, who had a wife and six sons. All lived in a state of prosperity for some time, but the entrance of Saturn into the Brâhmiṇ’s horoscope turned everything upside down. The once prosperous Brâhmiṇ became poor, and was reduced to go to the neighbouring woods to gather bamboo rice with which to feed his hungry family.One day while plucking the bamboo ears, he saw a bush close by in flames, in the midst of which was a serpent struggling for its life. The Brâhmiṇ at once ran to its rescue, and stretching towards it a long green stick the reptile crept on to it and escaped from the flames, and then spread its hood and with a hissing sound approached to sting its rescuer. The Brâhmiṇ began to weep and bewail his folly in having saved the ungrateful creature, at which the serpent asked him:—“O Brâhmiṇ, why do you weep?”Said the old man: “You now purpose to kill me; is this the reward for my having saved your life?”“True, you have rescued me from a terrible death, but how am I to appease my hunger?” replied the serpent.And quoth the Brâhmiṇ, “You speak of your hunger, but who is to feed my old wife and six hungry children at my house?”The serpent, seeing the anxiety of the Brâhmiṇ, emitted a precious gem from its hood, and bade him take it home and give it to his wife for household expenses, after which to return to the wood to be devoured. The old man agreed, and, solemnly promising to return without fail, went home. Having given the gem to his family, and told them of his pact with the serpent, the Brâhmiṇ went back to the wood. The serpent had meanwhile reflected upon its own base ingratitude.“Is it right,” said it to itself, “to kill him who saved me from the flames? No! I shall rather perish of hunger, if I cannot find a prey to-day, than slay my protector.”So when the old Brâhmiṇ appeared, true to his word, the serpent presented him with another valuable gem, and after expressing a wish that he should live long and happily with his wife and children, went its own way, while the Brâhmiṇ returned joyously to his home.“Even as the serpent purposed acting towards its benefactor,” continued the king, “so did I, in my rage, intend putting to death my faithful minister and the protector of my life, Bodhaditya; and to free myself from this grievous sin there is no penance I should not undergo.”Then king Alakesa ordered a thousand Brâhmiṇs to be fed every day during his life, and many rich gifts to be distributed in temples as atonement for his great error. And from that day Bodhaditya and his three colleagues enjoyed still more of the royal favour. With those four faithful ministers king Alakesa lived a most happy life and had a most prosperous reign.May there be prosperity to all!
There was an old man living in the depth of a forest, with his grandson, whom he had taken in charge when quite an infant. The child had no parents, brothers, or sisters; they had all been destroyed by six large giants, and he had been informed that he had no other relative living beside his grandfather. The band to whom he had belonged had put up their children on a wager in a race against those of the giants, and had thus lost them. There was an old tradition in the tribe, that, one day, it would produce a great man, who would wear a white feather, and who would astonish every one by his feats of skill and bravery.The grandfather, as soon as the child could play about, gave him a bow and arrows to amuse himself with. He went into the edge of the woods one day, and saw a rabbit; but not knowing what it was, he ran home and described it to his grandfather. He told him what it was, that its flesh was good to eat, and that if he would shoot one of his arrows into its body he would kill it. The boy went out again and brought home the little animal, which he asked his grandfather to boil, that they might feast on it. He humored the boy in this, and he encouraged him to go on in acquiring the knowledge of hunting, until he could kill deer and the larger kinds of game; and he became, as he grew up, an expert hunter.As they lived alone, and away from other Indians, the curiosity of the stripling was excited to know what was passing in the world. One day he came to the edge of a prairie, where he saw ashes like those at his grandfather’s lodge, and lodge-poles left standing.He returned, and inquired whether his grandfather had put up the poles and made the fire. He was answered, No. Nor did he believe that he had seen any thing of the kind. He must have lost his senses to be talking of such things.Another day the young man went out to see what there was, within a day’s hunt, that was curious; and on entering the woods he heard a voice calling out to him, “Come here, you destined wearer of the White Feather. You do not wear it, yet, but you are worthy of it. Return home and take a short nap. You will dream of hearing a voice, which will tell you to rise and smoke. You will see in your dream a pipe, a smoking-sack, and a large white feather. When you awake you will find these articles. Put the feather on your head, and you will become a great hunter, a great warrior, and a great man, able to do any thing. As a proof that these things shall come to pass, when you smoke, the smoke will turn into pigeons.”The voice then informed the young man who he was, and made known the character of his grandfather, who was imposing upon him to serve his own ends.The voice-spirit then caused a vine to be laid at his side, and told him that he was now of an age to avenge the wrongs of his kindred. “When you meet your enemy,” the spirit added, “you will run a race with him. He will not see the vine, because it is enchanted. While you are running, you will throw it over his head and entangle him, so that you will win the race.”Long before this speech was ended the young man had turned to the quarter from which the voice proceeded, and he was astonished to behold a man; for as yet he had never seen any human being beside his grandfather.As he looked more keenly, he saw that this man, who had the looks of great age, was wood from the breast downward, and that he appeared to be fixed in the earth. As his eye dwelt upon this strange being, the countenance by degrees faded away, and when he advanced to the spot whence it had addressed him, it was gone.He returned home; slept; in the midst of his slumbers, as from the hollow of the air, heard the voice; wakened and found the promised gifts. His grandfather, when his attention was called to his awakening, was greatly surprised to find the youth with a white feather on his forehead, and to see flocks of pigeons flying out of his lodge. He then remembered the old tradition, and knowing that now the day when he should lose control of his charge had begun, he bitterly bewailed the hour.Possessed of his three magic gifts, the young man departed the next morning, to seek his enemies, and to demand revenge.The six giants lived in a very high lodge in the middle of a wood. He traveled on, in good heart, till he reached this lodge, where he found that his coming had been made known by the little spirits who carry the news. The giants hastened out, and gave a cry of joy as they saw him drawing near. When he approached within hail, they began to make sport of him, saying, “Here comes the little man with the white feather, who is to achieve such wonderful wonders.”When, however, he had arrived among them, they spoke him fair, saying he was a brave man and would do brave things. Their object was to encourage him, so that he would be bold to engage in some fool-hardy trial of strength.Without paying much heed to their fine speeches, White Feather went fearlessly into their lodge; and without waiting for invitation, he challenged them to a foot-match. They agreed; and, as they said, by way of being easy with him, they told him to begin the race with the smallest of their number.The point to which they were to run was a peeled tree toward the rising sun, and then back to the starting-place, which was a war-club of iron. Whoever won this stake, was empowered to use it in dispatching the defeated champion. If White Feather should overcome the first giant, he was to try the second, and so on, until they had all measured speed with him. By a dexterous use of the vine, he gained the first race, struck down his competitor, and cut off his head.The next morning he ran with the second giant, whom he also outran, killed and beheaded.He went on in this way for the five mornings, always conquering by the aid of his vine, and lopping off the heads of the vanquished giants.The last of the giants who was yet to run with him acknowledged his power, but prepared secretly to deceive him. By way of parley, he proposed that White Feather should leave the heads with him, and that he would give him a handsome start for odds. This White Feather declined, as he preferred to keep the heads as trophies of his victory.Before going to the giant’s lodge, on the sixth morning, he met his old counselor in the woods, standing rooted in the earth, as before. He told White Feather that he was about to be deceived; that he had never known any other sex but his own, but that as he went on his way to the lodge he would meet the most beautiful woman in the world. He must pay no attention to her, but as soon as he caught her eye he must wish himself changed into an elk. The change would take place immediately, and he must go to feeding and not look at her again.White Feather thanked his kind adviser, and when he turned to take his leave he was gone as before.He proceeded toward the lodge, met the female as had been foretold to him, and became an elk. She reproached him that he had cast aside the form of a man that he might avoid her.“I have traveled a great distance,” she added, “to see you and to become your wife; for I have heard of your great achievements, and admire you very much.”Now this woman was the sixth giant, who had assumed this disguise to entrap White Feather.Without a suspicion of her real character, her reproaches and her beauty affected him so deeply that he wished himself a man again, and he at once resumed his natural shape. They sat down together, and he began to caress and to make love to her.Soothed by her smiles and her gracious manners, he ventured to lay his head on her lap, and in a little while he fell into a deep slumber.Even then, such was her fear of White Feather, she doubted whether his sleep might not be feigned. To assure herself she pushed his head aside, and seeing that he remained unconscious, she quickly assumed her own form as the sixth giant, took the plume from the brow of White Feather and placed it upon his own head, and with a sudden blow of his war-club changed him into a dog, in which degraded form he followed his enemy to the lodge.While these things were passing, there were living in an Indian village at some distance, two sisters, the daughters of a chief, who were rivals, and they were at that very time fasting to acquire power, for the purpose of enticing the wearer of the white feather to visit their lodge. They each secretly hoped to engage his affections, and each had built a lodge in the border of the village encampment.The giant knowing this, and having become possessed of the magic plume, went immediately to visit them. As he approached, the sisters, who were on the look-out at their lodge-doors, espied and recognized the feather.The eldest sister had prepared her lodge with great show, and all the finery she could command, so as to attract the eye. The youngest touched nothing in her lodge, but left it in its ordinary state.The eldest went out to meet the giant, and invited him in. He accepted her invitation, and made her his wife. The youngest sister invited the enchanted dog into her lodge, prepared him a good supper and a neat bed, and treated him with much attention.The giant, supposing that whoever possessed the white feather possessed also all its virtues, went out upon the prairie to hunt, hallooing aloud to the game to come and be killed; but the great hubbub he kept up scared them away, and he returned at night with nothing but himself; for he had shouted so lustily all day long that he had been even obliged to leave the mighty halloo, with which he had set out, behind.The dog went out the same day hunting upon the banks of a river. He stole quietly along to the spot, and stepping into the water he drew out a stone, which instantly became a beaver.The next day the giant followed the dog, and hiding behind a tree, he watched the manner in which the dog hunted in the river when he drew out a stone, which at once turned into a beaver.“Ah, ha!” said the giant to himself, “I will catch some beaver for myself.”And as soon as the dog had left the place, the giant went to the river, and, imitating the dog, he drew out a stone, and was delighted to see it, as soon as it touched the land, change into a fine fat beaver.Tying it to his belt he hastened home, shouting a good deal, and brandishing the white feather about, as if he were prepared now to show them what he could do when he once tried. When he reached home he threw it down, as is the custom, at the door of the lodge before he entered.After being seated a short time, he gave a dry cough, and bade his wife bring in his hunting girdle. She made dispatch to obey him, and presently returned with the girdle, with nothing tied to it but a stone.The next day, the dog finding that his method of catching beavers had been discovered, went to a wood at some distance, and broke off a charred limb from a burned tree, which instantly became a bear. The giant, who appeared to have lost faith in his hulla-balooing, had again watched him, did exactly as the dog had done, and carried a bear home; but his wife, when she came to go out for it, found nothing but a black stick tied to his belt.And so it happened with every thing. Whatever the dog undertook, prospered; whatever the giant attempted, failed. Every day the youngest sister had reason to be more proud of the poor dog she had asked into her lodge, and every day the eldest sister was made more aware, that though she had married the white feather, the virtues of the magic plume were not the personal property of the noisy giant.At last the giant’s wife determined that she would go to her father and make known to him what a valuable husband she had, and how he furnished her lodge with a great abundance of sticks and stones, which he would pass upon her for bear and beaver. So, when her husband, whose brave halloo had now died away to a feeble chirp, had started for the hunt, she set out.As soon as these two had gone away from the neighborhood, the dog made signs to his mistress to sweat him after the manner of the Indians. He had always been a good dog, and she was willing to oblige him. She accordingly made a lodge just large enough for him to creep in. She then put in heated stones, and poured water upon them, which raised a vapor that filled the lodge and searched with its warmth to the very heart’s core of the enchanted dog.When this had been kept up for the customary time, the enchanted dog was completely sweated away, and in his stead, as might have been expected, out came a very handsome young man, but, unhappily, without the power of speech. In taking away the dog, it appears that the sweating-lodge had also carried off the voice with it.Meantime the elder sister had reached her father’s, and, with much circumstance and a very long face, had told him how that her sister was supporting an idle dog, and entertaining him as her husband. In her anxiety to make known her sister’s affairs and the great scandal she was bringing upon the family, the eldest forgot to say any thing of the sticks and stones which her own husband brought home for bears and beavers. The old man suspecting that there was magic about her house, sent a deputation of young men and women to ask his youngest daughter to come to him, and to bring her dog along with her. When the deputation reached the lodge, they were surprised to find, in the place of the dog, a fine young man; and on announcing their message, they all returned to the old chief, who was no less surprised at the change.He immediately assembled all the old and wise heads of the nation to come and be witnesses to the exploits which it was reported that the young man could perform. The sixth giant, although neither very old nor very wise, thrust himself in among the relations of the old chief.When they were all assembled and seated in a circle, the old chief took his pipe and filled it, and passed it to the Indians around, to see if any thing would happen when they smoked. They passed it on until it came around to the Dog, who made a sign that it should be handed first to the giant, which was done. And the giant puffed with all his might, and shook the white feather upon his head, and swelled his chest; but nothing came of it, except a great deal of smoke. The Dog then took it himself. He made a sign to them to put the white feather upon his head. This was no sooner done, than he recovered his speech, and, beginning to draw upon the pipe at the same moment, behold, immense flocks of white and blue pigeons rushed from the smoke.From that moment the sixth giant was looked upon as an impostor, and as soon as White Feather had, at the request of the company, faithfully recounted his history, the old chief, who was one of the best-hearted magicians that ever lived, ordered that the giant should be transformed into a dog, and turned into the middle of the village, where the boys should pelt him to death with clubs; which being done, the whole six giants were at an end, and never troubled that neighborhood again, forever after.The chief then gave out a command, at the request of White Feather, that all the young men should employ themselves four days in making arrows. White Feather also asked for a buffalo robe. This he cut into thin shreds, and in the night, when no one knew of it, he went and sowed them about the prairie in every direction.At the end of the four days, he invited them to gather together all of their arrows, and to accompany him to a buffalo hunt. When they got out upon the prairie, they found it covered with a great herd of buffaloes. Of these they killed as many as they pleased, and, afterward, they had a grand festival in honor of White Feather’s triumph over the giants.All this being pleasantly over, White Feather got his wife to ask her father’s permission to go with him on a visit to his grandfather. The old chief replied to this application, that a woman must follow her husband into whatever quarter of the world he may choose to go.Bidding farewell to all his friends, White Feather placed the plume in his frontlet, and taking his war-club in his hand, he led the way into the forest, followed by his faithful wife.
Once upon a time there lived a poor widow who had one little boy. At first sight you would not have thought that he was different from a thousand other little boys; but then you noticed that by his side hung the scabbard of a sword, and as the boy grew bigger the scabbard grew bigger too. The sword which belonged to the scabbard was found by the little boy sticking out of the ground in the garden, and every day he pulled it up to see if it would go into the scabbard. But though it was plainly becoming longer and longer, it was some time before the two would fit.However, there came a day at last when it slipped in quite easily. The child was so delighted that he could hardly believe his eyes, so he tried it seven times, and each time it slipped in more easily than before. But pleased though the boy was, he determined not to tell anyone about it, particularly not his mother, who never could keep anything from her neighbours.Still, in spite of his resolutions, he could not hide altogether that something had happened, and when he went in to breakfast his mother asked him what was the matter.‘Oh, mother, I had such a nice dream last night,’ said he; ‘but I can’t tell it to anybody.’‘You can tell it to me,’ she answered. ‘It must have been a nice dream, or you wouldn’t look so happy.’‘No, mother; I can’t tell it to anybody,’ returned the boy, ’till it comes true.’‘I want to know what it was, and know it I will,’ cried she, ‘and I will beat you till you tell me.’But it was no use, neither words nor blows would get the secret out of the boy; and when her arm was quite tired and she had to leave off, the child, sore and aching, ran into the garden and knelt weeping beside his little sword. It was working round and round in its hole all by itself, and if anyone except the boy had tried to catch hold of it, he would have been badly cut. But the moment he stretched out his hand it stopped and slid quietly into the scabbard.For a long time the child sat sobbing, and the noise was heard by the king as he was driving by. ‘Go and see who it is that is crying so,’ said he to one of his servants, and the man went. In a few minutes he returned saying: ‘Your Majesty, it is a little boy who is kneeling there sobbing because his mother has beaten him.’‘Bring him to me at once,’ commanded the monarch, ‘and tell him that it is the king who sends for him, and that he has never cried in all his life and cannot bear anyone else to do so.’ On receiving this message the boy dried his tears and went with the servant to the royal carriage. ‘Will you be my son?’ asked the king.‘Yes, if my mother will let me,’ answered the boy. And the king bade the servant go back to the mother and say that if she would give her boy to him, he should live in the palace and marry his prettiest daughter as soon as he was a man.The widow’s anger now turned into joy, and she came running to the splendid coach and kissed the king’s hand. ‘I hope you will be more obedient to his Majesty than you were to me,’ she said; and the boy shrank away half-frightened. But when she had gone back to her cottage, he asked the king if he might fetch something that he had left in the garden, and when he was given permission, he pulled up his little sword, which he slid into the scabbard.Then he climbed into the coach and was driven away.After they had gone some distance the king said: ‘Why were you crying so bitterly in the garden just now?’‘Because my mother had been beating me,’ replied the boy.‘And what did she do that for?’ asked the king again.‘Because I would not tell her my dream.’‘And why wouldn’t you tell it to her?’‘Because I will never tell it to anyone till it comes true,’ answered the boy.‘And won’t you tell it to me either?’ asked the king in surprise.‘No, not even to you, your Majesty,’ replied he.‘Oh, I am sure you will when we get home,’ said the king smiling, and he talked to him about other things till they came to the palace.‘I have brought you such a nice present,’ he said to his daughters, and as the boy was very pretty they were delighted to have him and gave him all their best toys.‘You must not spoil him,’ observed the king one day, when he had been watching them playing together. He has a secret which he won’t tell to anyone.’‘He will tell me,’ answered the eldest princess; but the boy only shook his head.‘He will tell me,’ said the second girl.‘Not I,’ replied the boy.‘He will tell me,’ cried the youngest, who was the prettiest too.‘I will tell nobody till it comes true,’ said the boy, as he had said before; ‘and I will beat anybody who asks me.’The king was very sorry when he heard this, for he loved the boy dearly; but he thought it would never do to keep anyone near him who would not do as he was bid. So he commanded his servants to take him away and not to let him enter the palace again until he had come to his right senses.The sword clanked loudly as the boy was led away, but the child said nothing, though he was very unhappy at being treated so badly when he had done nothing. However, the servants were very kind to him, and their children brought him fruit and all sorts of nice things, and he soon grew merry again, and lived amongst them for many years till his seventeenth birthday.Meanwhile the two eldest princesses had become women, and had married two powerful kings who ruled over great countries across the sea. The youngest one was old enough to be married too, but she was very particular, and turned up her nose at all the young princes who had sought her hand.One day she was sitting in the palace feeling rather dull and lonely, and suddenly she began to wonder what the servants were doing, and whether it was not more amusing down in their quarters. The king was at his council and the queen was ill in bed, so there was no one to stop the princess, and she hastily ran across the gardens to the houses where the servants lived. Outside she noticed a youth who was handsomer than any prince she had ever seen, and in a moment she knew him to be the little boy she had once played with.‘Tell me your secret and I will marry you,’ she said to him; but the boy only gave her the beating he had promised her long ago, when she asked him the same question. The girl was very angry, besides being hurt, and ran home to complain to her father.‘If he had a thousand souls, I would kill them all,’ swore the king.That very day a gallows was built outside the town, and all the people crowded round to see the execution of the young man who had dared to beat the king’s daughter. The prisoner, with his hands tied behind his back, was brought out by the hangman, and amidst dead silence his sentence was being read by the judge when suddenly the sword clanked against his side. Instantly a great noise was heard and a golden coach rumbled over the stones, with a white flag waving out of the window. It stopped underneath the gallows, and from it stepped the king of the Magyars, who begged that the life of the boy might be spared.‘Sir, he has beaten my daughter, who only asked him to tell her his secret. I cannot pardon that,’ answered the princess’s father.‘Give him to me, I’m sure he will tell me the secret; or, if not, I have a daughter who is like the Morning Star, and he is sure to tell it to her.’The sword clanked for the third time, and the king said angrily: ‘Well, if you want him so much you can have him; only never let me see his face again.’ And he made a sign to the hangman. The bandage was removed from the young man’s eyes, and the cords from his wrists, and he took his seat in the golden coach beside the king of the Magyars. Then the coachman whipped up his horses, and they set out for Buda.The king talked very pleasantly for a few miles, and when he thought that his new companion was quite at ease with him, he asked him what was the secret which had brought him into such trouble. ‘ That I cannot tell you,’ answered the youth, ‘until it comes true.’‘You will tell my daughter,’ said the king, smiling.‘I will tell nobody,’ replied the youth, and as he spoke the sword clanked loudly. The king said no more, but trusted to his daughter’s beauty to get the secret from him.The journey to Buda was long, and it was several days before they arrived there. The beautiful princess happened to be picking roses in the garden, when her father’s coach drove up.‘Oh, what a handsome youth! Have you brought him from fairyland?’ cried she, when they all stood upon the marble steps in front of the castle.‘I have brought him from the gallows,’ answered the king; rather vexed at his daughter’s words, as never before had she consented to speak to any man.‘I don’t care where you brought him from,’ said the spoilt girl. ‘I will marry him and nobody else, and we will live together till we die.’‘You will tell another tale,’ replied the king, ‘when you ask him his secret. After all he is no better than a servant.’‘That is nothing to me,’ said the princess, ‘for I love him. He will tell his secret to me, and will find a place in the middle of my heart.’But the king shook his head, and gave orders that the lad was to be lodged in the summer-house.One day, about a week later, the princess put on her finest dress, and went to pay him a visit. She looked so beautiful that, at the sight of her, the book dropped from his hand, and he stood up speechless. ‘Tell me,’ she said, coaxingly, ‘what is this wonderful secret? Just whisper it in my ear, and I will give you a kiss.’‘My angel,’ he answered, ‘be wise, and ask no questions, if you wish to get safely back to your father’s palace; I have kept my secret all these years, and do not mean to tell it now.’However, the girl would not listen, and went on pressing him, till at last he slapped her face so hard that her nose bled. She shrieked with pain and rage, and ran screaming back to the palace, where her father was waiting to hear if she had succeeded. ‘I will starve you to death, you son of a dragon,’ cried he, when he saw her dress streaming with blood; and he ordered all the masons and bricklayers in the town to come before him.‘Build me a tower as fast as you can,’ he said, ‘and see that there is room for a stool and a small table, and for nothing else. The men set to work, and in two hours the tower was built, and they proceeded to the palace to inform the king that his commands were fulfilled. On the way they met the princess, who began to talk to one of the masons, and when the rest were out of hearing she asked if he could manage to make a hole in the tower, which nobody could see, large enough for a bottle of wine and some food to pass through.‘To be sure I can,’ said the mason, turning back, and in a few minutes the hole was bored.At sunset a large crowd assembled to watch the youth being led to the tower, and after his misdeeds had been proclaimed he was solemnly walled up. But every morning the princess passed him in food through the hole, and every third day the king sent his secretary to climb up a ladder and look down through a little window to see if he was dead. But the secretary always brought back the report that he was fat and rosy.‘There is some magic about this,’ said the king.This state of affairs lasted some time, till one day a messenger arrived from the Sultan bearing a letter for the king, and also three canes. ‘My master bids me say,’ said the messenger, bowing low, ‘that if you cannot tell him which of these three canes grows nearest the root, which in the middle, and which at the top, he will declare war against you.The king was very much frightened when he heard this, and though he took the canes and examined them closely, he could see no difference between them. He looked so sad that his daughter noticed it, and inquired the reason.‘Alas! my daughter,’ he answered, ‘how can I help being sad? The Sultan has sent me three canes, and says that if I cannot tell him which of them grows near the root, which in the middle, and which at the top, he will make war upon me. And you know that his army is far greater than mine.’‘Oh, do not despair, my father,’ said she. ‘We shall be sure to find out the answer’; and she ran away to the tower, and told the young man what had occurred.‘Go to bed as usual,’ replied he, ‘and when you wake, tell your father that you have dreamed that the canes must be placed in warm water. After a little while one will sink to the bottom; that is the one that grows nearest the root. The one which neither sinks nor comes to the surface is the cane that is cut from the middle; and the one that floats is from the top.’So, the next morning, the princess told her father of her dream, and by her advice he cut notches in each of the canes when he took them out of the water, so that he might make no mistake when he handed them back to the messenger. The Sultan could not imagine how he had found out, but he did not declare war.The following year the Sultan again wanted to pick a quarrel with the king of the Magyars, so he sent another messenger to him with three foals, begging him to say which of the animals was born in the morning, which at noon, and which in the evening. If an answer was not ready in three days, war would be declared at once. The king’s heart sank when he read the letter. He could not expect his daughter to be lucky enough to dream rightly a second time, and as a plague had been raging through the country, and had carried off many of his soldiers, his army was even weaker than before. At this thought his face became so gloomy that his daughter noticed it, and inquired what was the matter.‘I have had another letter from the Sultan,’ replied the king, ‘and he says that if I cannot tell him which of three foals was born in the morning, which at noon, and which in the evening, he will declare war at once.’‘Oh, don’t be cast down,’ said she, ‘something is sure to happen’; and she ran down to the tower to consult the youth.‘Go home, idol of my heart, and when night comes, pretend to scream out in your sleep, so that your father hears you. Then tell him that you have dreamt that he was just being carried off by the Turks because he could not answer the question about the foals, when the lad whom he had shut up in the tower ran up and told them which was foaled in the morning, which at noon, and which in the evening.’So the princess did exactly as the youth had bidden her; and no sooner had she spoken than the king ordered the tower to be pulled down, and the prisoner brought before him.‘I did not think that you could have lived so long without food,’ said he, ‘and as you have had plenty of time to repent your wicked conduct, I will grant you pardon, on condition that you help me in a sore strait. Read this letter from the Sultan; you will see that if I fail to answer his question about the foals, a dreadful war will be the result.’The youth took the letter and read it through. ‘Yes, I can help you,’ replied he; ‘but first you must bring me three troughs, all exactly alike. Into one you must put oats, into another wheat, and into the third barley. The foal which eats the oats is that which was foaled in the morning; the foal which eats the wheat is that which was foaled at noon; and the foal which eats the barley is that which was foaled at night.’ The king followed the youth’s directions, and, marking the foals, sent them back to Turkey, and there was no war that year.Now the Sultan was very angry that both his plots to get possession of Hungary had been such total failures, and he sent for his aunt, who was a witch, to consult her as to what he should do next.‘It is not the king who has answered your questions,’ observed the aunt, when he had told his story. ‘He is far too stupid ever to have done that! The person who has found out the puzzle is the son of a poor woman, who, if he lives, will become King of Hungary. Therefore, if you want the crown yourself, you must get him here and kill him.’After this conversation another letter was written to the Court of Hungary, saying that if the youth, now in the palace, was not sent to Turkey within three days, a large army would cross the border. The king’s heart was sorrowful as he read, for he was grateful to the lad for what he had done to help him; but the boy only laughed, and bade the king fear nothing, but to search the town instantly for two youths just like each other, and he would paint himself a mask that was just like them. And the sword at his side clanked loudly.After a long search twin brothers were found, so exactly resembling each other that even their own mother could not tell the difference. The youth painted a mask that was the precise copy of them, and when he had put it on, no one would have known one boy from the other. They set out at once for the Sultan’s palace, and when they reached it, they were taken straight into his presence. He made a sign for them to come near; they all bowed low in greeting. He asked them about their journey; they answered his questions all together, and in the same words. If one sat down to supper, the others sat down at the same instant. When one got up, the others got up too, as if there had been only one body between them. The Sultan could not detect any difference between them, and he told his aunt that he would not be so cruel as to kill all three.‘Well, you will see a difference to-morrow,’ replied the witch, ‘for one will have a cut on his sleeve. That is the youth you must kill.’ And one hour before midnight, when witches are invisible, she glided into the room where all three lads were sleeping in the same bed. She took out a pair of scissors and cut a small piece out of the boy’s coat-sleeve which was hanging on the wall, and then crept silently from the room. But in the morning the youth saw the slit, and he marked the sleeves of his two companions in the same way, and all three went down to breakfast with the Sultan. The old witch was standing in the window and pretended not to see them; but all witches have eyes in the backs of their heads, and she knew at once that not one sleeve but three were cut, and they were all as alike as before. After breakfast, the Sultan, who was getting tired of the whole affair and wanted to be alone to invent some other plan, told them they might return home. So, bowing low with one accord, they went.The princess welcomed the boy back joyfully, but the poor youth was not allowed to rest long in peace, for one day a fresh letter arrived from the Sultan, saying that he had discovered that the young man was a very dangerous person, and that he must be sent to Turkey at once, and alone. The girl burst into tears when the boy told her what was in the letter which her father had bade her to carry to him. ‘Do not weep, love of my heart,’ said the boy, ‘all will be well. I will start at sunrise to-morrow.’So next morning at sunrise the youth set forth, and in a few days he reached the Sultan’s palace. The old witch was waiting for him at the gate, and whispered as he passed: ‘This is the last time you will ever enter it.’ But the sword clanked, and the lad did not even look at her. As he crossed the threshold fifteen armed Turks barred his way, with the Sultan at their head. Instantly the sword darted forth and cut off the heads of everyone but the Sultan, and then went quietly back to its scabbard. The witch, who was looking on, saw that as long as the youth had possession of the sword, all her schemes would be in vain, and tried to steal the sword in the night, but it only jumped out of its scabbard and sliced off her nose, which was of iron. And in the morning, when the Sultan brought a great army to capture the lad and deprive him of his sword, they were all cut to pieces, while he remained without a scratch.Meanwhile the princess was in despair because the days slipped by, and the young man did not return, and she never rested until her father let her lead some troops against the Sultan. She rode proudly before them, dressed in uniform; but they had not left the town more than a mile behind them, when they met the lad and his little sword. When he told them what he had done they shouted for joy, and carried him back in triumph to the palace; and the king declared that as the youth had shown himself worthy to become his son-in-law, he should marry the princess and succeed to the throne at once, as he himself was getting old, and the cares of government were too much for him. But the young man said he must first go and see his mother, and the king sent him in state, with a troop of soldiers as his bodyguard.The old woman was quite frightened at seeing such an array draw up before her little house, and still more surprised when a handsome young man, whom she did not know, dismounted and kissed her hand, saying: ‘Now, dear mother, you shall hear my secret at last! I dreamed that I should become King of Hungary, and my dream has come true. When I was a child, and you begged me to tell you, I had to keep silence, or the Magyar king would have killed me. And if you had not beaten me nothing would have happened that has happened, and I should not now be King of Hungary.’
At Akita, in the province of Inaba, lived an independent gentleman, who had two daughters, by whom he was ministered to with all filial piety. He was fond of shooting with a gun, and thus very often committed the sin (according to the teaching of holy Buddha) of taking life. He would never hearken to the admonitions of his daughters. These, mindful of the future, and aghast at the prospect in store for him in the world to come, frequently endeavored to convert him. Many were the tears they shed. At last one day, after they had pleaded with him more earnestly still than before, the father, touched by their supplications, promised to shoot no more. But, after a a while, some of his neighbors came round to request him to shoot for them two storks. He was easily led to consent by the strength of his natural liking for the sport. Still he would not allow a word to be breathed to his daughters. He slipped out at night, gun in hand, after they were, as he imagined, fast asleep.They, however, had heard everything, and the elder sister said to the younger: “Do what we may, our father will not condescend to follow our words of counsel, and nothing now remains but to bring him to a knowledge of the truth by the sacrifice of one of our own lives. To-night is fortunately moonless; and if I put on white garments and go to the neighborhood of the bay, he will take me for a stork and shoot me dead. Do you continue to live and tend our father with all the services of filial piety.” Thus she spake, her eyes dimmed with the rolling tears. But the younger sister, with many sobs, exclaimed: “For you, my sister, for you is it to receive the inheritance of this house. So do you condescend to be the one to live, and to practise filial devotion to our father, while I will offer up my life.”Thus did each strive for death. The elder one, without more words, seizing a white garment rushed out of the house. The younger one, unwilling to cede to her the place of honor, putting on a white gown also, followed in her track to the shore of the bay. There, making her way to her among the rushes, she continued the dispute as to which of the two should be the one to die.Meanwhile the father, peering around him in the darkness, saw something white. Taking it for the storks, he aimed at the spot with his gun, and did not miss his shot, for it pierced through the ribs of the elder of the two girls. The younger, helpless in her grief, bent over her sister’s body. The father, not dreaming of what he was about, and astonished to find that his having shot one of the storks did not make the other fly away, discharged another shot at the remaining white figure. Lamentable to relate, he hit his second daughter as he had the first. She fell, pierced through the chest, and was laid on the same grassy pillow as her sister.The father, pleased with his success, came up to the rushes to look for his game. But what! no storks, alas! alas! No, only his two daughters! Filled with consternation, he asked what it all meant. The girls, breathing with difficulty, told him that their resolve had been to show him the crime of taking life, and thus respectfully to cause him to desist therefrom. They expired before they had time to say more.The father was filled with sorrow and remorse. He took the two corpses home on his back. As there was now no help for what was done, he placed them reverently on a wood stack, and there they burnt, making smoke to the blowing wind. From that hour he was a converted man. He built himself a small cell of branches of trees, near the village bridge. Placing therein the memorial tablets of his two daughters, he performed before them the due religious rites, and became the most pious follower of Buddha. Ah! that was filial piety in very truth! a marvel, that these girls should throw away their own lives, so that, by exterminating the evil seed in their father’s conduct in this world, they might guard him from its awful fruit in the world to come!
The mayor stood at the open window. His shirt-frill was very fine, and so were his ruffles; he had a breast-pin stuck in his frill, and was uncommonly smooth-shaven—all his own work; certainly he had given himself a slight cut, but he had stuck a bit of newspaper on the place. “Hark ‘ee, youngster!” he cried.The youngster in question was no other than the son of the poor washerwoman, who was just going past the house; and he pulled off his cap respectfully. The peak of the said cap was broken in the middle, for the cap was arranged so that it could be rolled up and crammed into his pocket. In his poor, but clean and well-mended attire, with heavy wooden shoes on his feet, the boy stood there, as humble and abashed as if he stood opposite the king himself.“You’re a good boy,” said Mr. Mayor. “You’re a civil boy. I suppose your mother is rinsing clothes down yonder in the river? I suppose you are to carry that thing to your mother that you have in your pocket? That’s a bad affair with your mother. How much have you got in it?”“Half a quartern,” stammered the boy, in a frightened voice.“And this morning she had just as much,” the mayor continued.“No,” replied the boy, “it was yesterday.”“Two halves make a whole. She’s good for nothing! It’s a sad thing with that kind of people! Tell your mother that she ought to be ashamed of herself; and mind you don’t become a drunkard—but you will become one, though. Poor child—there, go!”Accordingly the boy went on his way. He kept his cap in his hand, and the wind played with his yellow hair, so that great locks of it stood up straight. He turned down by the street corner, into the little lane that led to the river, where his mother stood by the washing bench, beating the heavy linen with the mallet. The water rolled quickly along, for the flood-gates at the mill had been drawn up, and the sheets were caught by the stream, and threatened to overturn the bench. The washerwoman was obliged to lean against the bench, to support it.“I was very nearly sailing away,” she said. “It is a good thing that you are come, for I have need to recruit my strength a little. For six hours I’ve been standing in the water. Have you brought anything for me?”The boy produced the bottle, and the mother put it to her mouth, and took a little.“Ah, how that revives one!” she said: “how it warms! It is as good as a hot meal, and not so dear. And you, my boy! you look quite pale. You are shivering in your thin clothes—to be sure it is autumn. Ugh! how cold the water is! I hope I shall not be ill. But no, I shall not be that! Give me a little more, and you may have a sip too, but only a little sip, for you must not accustom yourself to it, my poor dear child!”And she stepped up to the bridge on which the boy stood, and came ashore. The water dripped from the straw matting she had wound round her, and from her gown.“I work and toil as much as ever I can,” she said, “but I do it willingly, if I can only manage to bring you up honestly and well, my boy.”As she spoke, a somewhat older woman came towards them. She was poor enough to behold, lame of one leg, and with a large false curl hanging down over one of her eyes, which was a blind one. The curl was intended to cover the eye, but it only made the defect more striking. This was a friend of the laundress. She was called among the neighbours, “Lame Martha with the curl.”“Oh, you poor thing! How you work, standing there in the water!” cried the visitor. “You really require something to warm you; and yet malicious folks cry out about the few drops you take!” And in a few minutes’ time the mayor’s late speech was reported to the laundress; for Martha had heard it all, and she had been angry that a man could speak as he had done to a woman’s own child, about the few drops the mother took: and she was the more angry, because the mayor on that very day was giving a great feast, at which wine was drunk by the bottle—good wine, strong wine. “A good many will take more than they need—but that’s not called drinking. They are good; but you are good for nothing!” cried Martha, indignantly.“Ah, so he spoke to you, my child?” said the washerwoman; and her lips trembled as she spoke. “So he says you have a mother who is good for nothing? Well, perhaps he’s right, but he should not have said it to the child. Still, I have had much misfortune from that house.”“You were in service there when the mayor’s parents were alive, and lived in that house. That is many years ago: many bushels of salt have been eaten since then, and we may well be thirsty;” and Martha smiled. “The mayor has a great dinner party to-day. The guests were to have been put off, but it was too late, and the dinner was already cooked. The footman told me about it. A letter came a little while ago, to say that the younger brother had died in Copenhagen.”“Died!” repeated the laundress—and she became pale as death.“Yes, certainly,” said Martha. “Do you take that so much to heart? Well, you must have known him years ago, when you were in service in the house.”“Is he dead? He was such a good, worthy man! There are not many like him.” And the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Good heavens! everything is whirling around me—it was too much for me. I feel quite ill.” And she leaned against the plank.“Good heavens, you are ill indeed!” exclaimed the other woman. “Come, come, it will pass over presently. But no, you really look seriously ill. The best thing will be for me to lead you home.”“But my linen yonder—”“I will take care of that. Come, give me your arm. The boy can stay here and take care of it, and I’ll come back and finish the washing; that’s only a trifle.”The laundress’s limbs shook under her. “I have stood too long in the cold water,” she said faintly, “and I have eaten and drunk nothing since this morning. The fever is in my bones. O kind Heaven, help me to get home! My poor child!” and she burst into tears. The boy wept too, and soon he was sitting alone by the river, beside the damp linen. The two women could make only slow progress. The laundress dragged her weary limbs along, and tottered through the lane and round the corner into the street where stood the house of the mayor; and just in front of his mansion she sank down on the pavement. Many people assembled round her, and Lame Martha ran into the house to get help. The mayor and his guests came to the window.“That’s the washerwoman!” he said. “She has taken a glass too much. She is good for nothing. It’s a pity for the pretty son she has. I really like the child very well; but the mother is good for nothing.”Presently the laundress came to herself, and they led her into her poor dwelling, and put her to bed. Kind Martha heated a mug of beer for her, with butter and sugar, which she considered the best medicine; and then she hastened to the river, and rinsed the linen—badly enough, though her will was good. Strictly speaking, she drew it ashore, wet as it was, and laid it in a basket.Towards evening she was sitting in the poor little room with the laundress. The mayor’s cook had given her some roasted potatoes and a fine fat piece of ham, for the sick woman, and Martha and the boy discussed these viands while the patient enjoyed the smell, which she pronounced very nourishing.And presently the boy was put to bed, in the same bed in which his mother lay; but he slept at her feet, covered with an old quilt made up of blue and white patches.Soon the patient felt a little better. The warm beer had strengthened her, and the fragrance of the provisions pleased her also. “Thanks, you kind soul,” she said to Martha. “I will tell you all when the boy is asleep. I think he has dropped off already. How gentle and good he looks, as he lies there with his eyes closed. He does not know what his mother has suffered, and Heaven grant he may never know it. I was in service at the councillor’s, the father of the mayor. It happened that the youngest of the sons, the student, came home. I was young then, a wild girl, but honest, that I may declare in the face of Heaven. The student was merry and kind, good and brave. Every drop of blood in him was good and honest. I have not seen a better man on this earth. He was the son of the house, and I was only a maid, but we formed an attachment to each other, honestly and honourably. And he told his mother of it, for she was in his eyes as a Deity on earth; and she was wise and gentle. He went away on a journey, but before he started he put his gold ring on my finger; and directly he was gone my mistress called me. With a firm yet gentle seriousness she spoke to me, and it seemed as if Wisdom itself were speaking. She showed me clearly, in spirit and in truth, the difference there was between him and me.“‘Now he is charmed with your pretty appearance,’ she said, ‘but your good looks will leave you. You have not been educated as he has. You are not equals in mind, and there is the misfortune. I respect the poor,’ she continued; ‘in the sight of God they may occupy a higher place than many a rich man can fill; but here on earth we must beware of entering a false track as we go onward, or our carriage is upset, and we are thrown into the road. I know that a worthy man wishes to marry you—an artisan—I mean Erich the glovemaker. He is a widower without children, and is well to do. Think it over.’“Every word she spoke cut into my heart like a knife, but I knew that my mistress was right, and that knowledge weighed heavily upon me. I kissed her hand, and wept bitter tears, and I wept still more when I went into my room and threw myself on my bed. It was a heavy night that I had to pass through. Heaven knows what I suffered and how I wrestled! The next Sunday I went to the Lord’s house, to pray for strength and guidance. It seemed like a Providence, that as I stepped out of church Erich came towards me. And now there was no longer a doubt in my mind. We were suited to each other in rank and in means, and he was even then a thriving man. Therefore I went up to him, took his hand, and said, ‘Are you still of the same mind towards me?’ ‘Yes, ever and always,’ he replied. ‘Will you marry a girl who honours and respects, but who does not love you—though that may come later?’ I asked again. ‘Yes, it will come!’ he answered; and upon this we joined hands. I went home to my mistress. I wore the gold ring that the son had given me at my heart. I could not put it on my finger in the daytime, but only in the evening when I went to bed. I kissed the ring again and again, till my lips almost bled, and then I gave it to my mistress, and told her the banns were to be put up next week for me and the glovemaker. Then my mistress put her arms round me and kissed me. She did not say that I was good for nothing; but perhaps I was better then than I am now, though the misfortunes of life had not yet found me out. In a few weeks we were married; and for the first year the world went well with us: we had a journeyman and an apprentice, and you, Martha, lived with us as our servant.”“Oh, you were a dear, good mistress,” cried Martha. “Never shall I forget how kind you and your husband were!”“Yes, those were our good years, when you were with us. We had not any children yet. The student I never saw again.—Yes, though, I saw him, but he did not see me. He was here at his mother’s funeral. I saw him stand by the grave. He was pale as death, and very downcast, but that was for his mother; afterwards, when his father died, he was away in a foreign land, and did not come back hither. I know that he never married; I believe he became a lawyer. He had forgotten me; and even if he had seen me again, he would not have known me, I look so ugly. And that is very fortunate.”And then she spoke of her days of trial, and told how misfortune had come as it were swooping down upon them.“We had five hundred dollars,” she said; “and as there was a house in the street to be bought for two hundred, and it would pay to pull it down and build a new one, it was bought. The builder and carpenter calculated the expense, and the new house was to cost ten hundred and twenty! Erich had credit, and borrowed the money in the chief town, but the captain who was to bring it was shipwrecked, and the money was lost with him.”“Just at that time my dear sweet boy who is sleeping yonder was born. My husband was struck down by a long heavy illness: for three quarters of a year I was compelled to dress and undress him. We went back more and more, and fell into debt. All that we had was sold, and my husband died. I have worked, and toiled, and striven, for the sake of the child, and scrubbed staircases, washed linen, clean and coarse alike, but I was not to be better off, such was God’s good will. But He will take me to Himself in His own good time, and will not forsake my boy.” And she fell asleep.Towards morning she felt much refreshed, and strong enough, as she thought, to go back to her work. She had just stepped again into the cold water, when a trembling and faintness seized her: she clutched at the air with her hand, took a step forward, and fell down. Her head rested on the bank, and her feet were still in the water: her wooden shoes, with a wisp of straw in each, which she had worn, floated down the stream, and thus Martha found her on coming to bring her some coffee.In the meantime a messenger from the mayor’s house had been dispatched to her poor lodging to tell her “to come to the mayor immediately, for he had something to tell her.” It was too late! A barber-surgeon was brought to open a vein in her arm; but the poor woman was dead.“She has drunk herself to death!” said the mayor.In the letter that brought the news of his brother’s death, the contents of the will had been mentioned, and it was a legacy of six hundred dollars to the glovemaker’s widow, who had once been his mother’s maid. The money was to be paid, according to the mayor’s discretion, in larger or smaller sums, to her or to her child.“There was some fuss between my brother and her,” said the mayor. “It’s a good thing that she is dead; for now the boy will have the whole, and I will get him into a house among respectable people. He may turn out a reputable working man.”And Heaven gave its blessing to these words.So the mayor sent for the boy, promised to take care of him, and added that it was a good thing the lad’s mother was dead, inasmuch as she had been good for nothing.They bore her to the churchyard, to the cemetery of the poor, and Martha strewed sand upon her grave, and planted a rose tree upon it, and the boy stood beside her.“My dear mother!” he cried, as the tears fell fast. “Is it true what they said: that she was good for nothing?” “No, she was good for much!” replied the old servant, and she looked up indignantly. “I knew it many a year ago, and more than all since last night. I tell you she was worth much, and the Lord in heaven knows it is true, let the world say as much as it chooses, ‘She was good for nothing.'”
Dunderberg, “Thunder Mountain,” at the southern gate of the Hudson Highlands, is a wooded eminence, chiefly populated by a crew of imps of stout circumference, whose leader, the Heer, is a bulbous goblin clad in the dress worn by Dutch colonists two centuries ago, and carrying a speaking-trumpet, through which he bawls his orders for the blowing of winds and the touching off of lightnings. These orders are given in Low Dutch, and are put into execution by the imps aforesaid, who troop into the air and tumble about in the mist, sometimes smiting the flag or topsail of a ship to ribbons, or laying the vessel over before the wind until she is in peril of going on beam ends. At one time a sloop passing the Dunderberg had nearly foundered, when the crew discovered the sugar-loaf hat of the Heer at the mast-head. None dared to climb for it, and it was not until she had driven past Pollopel’s Island—the limit of the Heer’s jurisdiction—that she righted. As she did so the little hat spun into the air like a top, creating a vortex that drew up the storm-clouds, and the sloop kept her way prosperously for the rest of the voyage. The captain had nailed a horse-shoe to the mast. The “Hat Rogue” of the Devil’s Bridge in Switzerland must be a relative of this gamesome sprite, for his mischief is usually of a harmless sort; but, to be on the safe side, the Dutchmen who plied along the river lowered their peaks in homage to the keeper of the mountain, and for years this was a common practice. Mariners who paid this courtesy to the Heer of the Donder Berg were never molested by his imps, though skipper Ouselsticker, of Fishkill,—for all he had a parson on board,—was once beset by a heavy squall, and the goblin came out of the mist and sat astraddle of his bowsprit, seeming to guide his schooner straight toward the rocks. The dominie chanted the song of Saint Nicolaus, and the goblin, unable to endure either its spiritual potency or the worthy parson’s singing, shot upward like a ball and rode off on the gale, carrying with him the nightcap of the parson’s wife, which he hung on the weathercock of Esopus steeple, forty miles away.
Once upon a time an Indian lived all alone away up in the North, where it snows and rains all the time and is very cold indeed. He went south and married a wife. He brought her to his home to keep him company; but she soon died because of the cold.The Indian was so lonely after that that he went out in search of another wife. This time he went to the East. After he had been traveling for a long distance, he went up on a hill and looked all around. He saw smoke, so he went to see whence it came; and he found a little house where a young girl lived all alone.“Come in,” she said, when he knocked on her door. She was lonely too; so when the man asked her to go to live with him and be his wife, she went.Soon after they reached the man’s house away up north, the man showed his wife where the corn was, so that she could grind some into meal for bread, while he went out to hunt to get meat for their dinner.The new wife sat down behind the grinding stones and tried to grind some of the corn, but her fingers soon grew too stiff from the cold. She grew colder and colder; and when the man came back from hunting he found her frozen to death.So again the man set out, to find a third wife. This time he traveled to the West. He walked for many days until he came to a woman hoeing corn. He looked tired, so the woman invited him to come into her house and rest a while. She called to her daughter to cook something for the stranger to eat. While he was eating he watched the young girl as she moved about the house, and he liked her very much. When he finished his meal he asked the girl:“Won’t you go with me to my house in the north and be my wife?”“No, I am sorry but I do not wish to go,” she said. But her mother liked the stranger, so she made her daughter go with him.While they were journeying northward the sad-hearted girl heard some one calling her. She looked all around and finally she saw a turtle.“Where are you going, my sister?” asked Mrs. Turtle,” and why do you look so sad?”“I am going into the cold Northland,” replied the girl, “to be the wife of that man walking in front of me. He is good to me; but I am unhappy because I do not want to go and my mother has forced me to. I am afraid of the cold.”“Do not be unhappy and do not be afraid,” said Mrs. Turtle, “Take this herb with you; and when you reach your new home, make some tea of it and sprinkle the tea in all directions.” The girl took the herb and journeyed on to her new home. When the man went out to hunt, she did as Mrs. Turtle had told her; and, behold, the house grew warm and comfortable and the girl was happy ever after.
A very old house once stood in a street with several others that were quite new and clean. One could read the date it had been erected, which had been carved on one of the beams and surrounded by scrolls formed of tulips and hop tendrils; by this date it could be seen that the old house was nearly three hundred years old. Entire verses too were written over the windows in old-fashioned letters, and grotesque faces, curiously carved, grinned at you from under the cornices. One story projected a long way over the other, and under the roof ran a leaden gutter with a dragon’s head at the end. The rain was intended to pour out at the dragon’s mouth, but it ran out of his body instead, for there was a hole in the gutter.All the other houses in the street were new and well built, with large windowpanes and smooth walls. Any one might see they had nothing to do with the old house. Perhaps they thought: “How long will that heap of rubbish remain here, to be a disgrace to the whole street? The parapet projects so far forward that no one can see out of our windows what is going on in that direction. The stairs are as broad as the staircase of a castle and as steep as if they led to a church tower. The iron railing looks like the gate of a cemetery, and there are brass knobs upon it. It is really too ridiculous.”Opposite to the old house were more nice new houses, which had just the same opinion as their neighbors.At the window of one of them sat a little boy with fresh, rosy cheeks and clear, sparkling eyes, who was very fond of the old house in sunshine or in moonlight. He would sit and look at the wall, from which the plaster had in some places fallen off, and fancy all sorts of scenes which had been in former times—how the street must have looked when the houses had all gable roofs, open staircases, and gutters with dragons at the spout. He could even see soldiers walking about with halberds. Certainly it was a very good house to look at for amusement.An old man lived in it who wore knee breeches, a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig which any one could see was a real one. Every morning there came an old man to clean the rooms and to wait upon him, otherwise the old man in the knee breeches would have been quite alone in the house. Sometimes he came to one of the windows and looked out; then the little boy nodded to him, and the old man nodded back again, till they became acquainted, and were friends, although they had never spoken to each other; but that was of no consequence.The little boy one day heard his parents say, “The old man is very well off, but he must be terribly lonely.” So the next Sunday morning the little boy wrapped something in a paper, and took it to the door of the old house, and said to the attendant who waited upon the old man: “Will you please to give this from me to the gentleman who lives here? I have two tin soldiers, and this is one of them, and he shall have it, because I know he is terribly lonely.”The old attendant nodded and looked very much pleased, and then he carried the tin soldier into the house.Afterwards he was sent over to ask the little boy if he would not like to pay a visit himself. His parents gave him permission, and so it was that he gained admission to the old house.The brass knobs on the railings shone more brightly than ever, as if they had been polished on account of his visit; and on the doors were carved trumpeters standing in tulips, and it seemed as if they were blowing with all their might, their cheeks were so puffed out: “Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is coming. Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is coming.”Then the door opened. All round the hall hung old portraits of knights in armor and ladies in silk gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silk dresses rustled. Then came a staircase which went up a long way, and then came down a little way and led to a balcony which was in a very ruinous state. There were large holes and long cracks, out of which grew grass and leaves; indeed the whole balcony, the courtyard, and the walls were so overgrown with green that they looked like a garden.In the balcony stood flowerpots on which were heads having asses’ ears, but the flowers in them grew just as they pleased. In one pot, pinks were growing all over the sides,—at least the green leaves were,—shooting forth stalk and stem and saying as plainly as they could speak, “The air has fanned me, the sun has kissed me, and I am promised a little flower for next Sunday—really for next Sunday!”Then they entered a room in which the walls were covered with leather, and the leather had golden flowers stamped upon it.“Gilding wears out with time and bad weather,But leather endures; there’s nothing like leather,”said the walls. Chairs handsomely carved, with elbows on each side and with very high backs, stood in the room; and as they creaked they seemed to say: “Sit down. Oh dear! how I am creaking; I shall certainly have the gout like the old cupboard. Gout in my back, ugh!”And then the little boy entered the room where the old man sat.“Thank you for the tin soldier, my little friend,” said the old man, “and thank you also for coming to see me.”“Thanks, thanks”—or “Creak, creak”—said all the furniture.There was so much furniture that the pieces stood in each other’s way to get a sight of the little boy. On the wall near the center of the room hung the picture of a beautiful lady, young and gay, dressed in the fashion of the olden times, with powdered hair and a full, stiff skirt. She said neither “thanks” nor “creak,” but she looked down upon the little boy with her mild eyes, and he said to the old man,“Where did you get that picture?”“From the shop opposite,” he replied. “Many portraits hang there. No one seems to know any of them or to trouble himself about them. The persons they represent have been dead and buried long since. But I knew this lady many years ago, and she has been dead nearly half a century.”Under a glass beneath the picture hung a nosegay of withered flowers, which were, no doubt, half a century old too, at least they appeared so.And the pendulum of the old clock went to and fro, and the hands turned round, and as time passed on everything in the room grew older, but no one seemed to notice it.“They say at home,” said the little boy, “that you are very lonely.”“Oh,” replied the old man, “I have pleasant thoughts of all that is past recalled by memory, and now you too are come to visit me, and that is very pleasant.”Then he took from the bookcase a book full of pictures representing long processions of wonderful coaches such as are never seen at the present time, soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens with waving banners. The tailors had a flag with a pair of scissors supported by two lions, and on the shoemakers’ flag there were not boots but an eagle with two heads, for the shoemakers must have everything arranged so that they can say, “This is a pair.” What a picture book it was! And then the old man went into another room to fetch apples and nuts. It was very pleasant, certainly, to be in that old house.“I cannot endure it,” said the tin soldier, who stood on a shelf; “it is so lonely and dull here. I have been accustomed to live in a family, and I cannot get used to this life. I cannot bear it. The whole day is long enough, but the evening is longer. It is not here as it was in your house opposite, when your father and mother talked so cheerfully together, while you and all the dear children made such a delightful noise. Do you think he gets any kisses? Do you think he ever has friendly looks or a Christmas tree? He will have nothing now but the grave. Oh! I cannot bear it.”“You must not look on the sorrowful side so much,” said the little boy. “I think everything in this house is beautiful, and all the old, pleasant thoughts come back here to pay visits.”“Ah, but I never see any, and I don’t know them,” said the tin soldier; “and I cannot bear it.”“You must bear it,” said the little boy. Then the old man came back with a pleasant face, and brought with him beautiful preserved fruits as well as apples and nuts, and the little boy thought no more of the tin soldier.How happy and delighted the little boy was! And after he returned home, and while days and weeks passed, a great deal of nodding took place from one house to the other, and then the little boy went to pay another visit. The carved trumpeters blew: “Tanta-ra-ra, there is the little boy. Tanta-ra-ra.” The swords and armor on the old knights’ pictures rattled, the silk dresses rustled, the leather repeated its rhyme, and the old chairs that had the gout in their backs cried “Creak”; it was all exactly like the first time, for in that house one day and one hour were just like another.“I cannot bear it any longer,” said the tin soldier; “I have wept tears of tin, it is so melancholy here. Let me go to the wars and lose an arm or a leg; that would be some change. I cannot bear it. Now I know what it is to have visits from one’s old recollections and all they bring with them. I have had visits from mine, and you may believe me it is not altogether pleasant. I was very nearly jumping from the shelf. I saw you all in your house opposite, as if you were really present.“It was Sunday morning, and you children stood round the table, singing the hymn that you sing every morning. You were standing quietly with your hands folded, and your father and mother were looking just as serious, when the door opened, and your little sister Maria, who is not two years old, was brought into the room. You know she always dances when she hears music and singing of any sort, so she began to dance immediately, although she ought not to have done so; but she could not get into the right time because the tune was so slow, so she stood first on one foot and then on the other and bent her head very low, but it would not suit the music. You all stood looking grave, although it was very difficult to do so, but I laughed so to myself that I fell down from the table and got a bruise, which is still there. I know it was not right to laugh. So all this, and everything else that I have seen, keeps running in my head, and these must be the old recollections that bring so many thoughts with them. Tell me whether you still sing on Sundays, and tell me about your little sister Maria, and how my old comrade is, the other tin soldier. Ah, really he must be very happy. I cannot endure this life.”“You are given away,” said the little boy; “you must stay. Don’t you see that?” Then the old man came in with a box containing many curious things to show him. Rouge-pots, scent-boxes, and old cards so large and so richly gilded that none are ever seen like them in these days. And there were smaller boxes to look at, and the piano was opened, and inside the lid were painted landscapes. But when the old man played, the piano sounded quite out of tune. Then he looked at the picture he had bought at the broker’s, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he nodded at it and said, “Ah, she could sing that tune.”“I will go to the wars! I will go to the wars!” cried the tin soldier as loud as he could, and threw himself down on the floor. Where could he have fallen? The old man searched, and the little boy searched, but he was gone and could not be found. “I shall find him again,” said the old man. But he did not find him; the tin soldier had fallen through a crack between the boards and lay there now as in an open grave.The day went by, and the little boy returned home; the week passed, and many more weeks. It was winter, and the windows were quite frozen, so that the little boy was obliged to breathe on the panes and rub a hole to peep through at the old house. Snowdrifts were lying in all the scrolls and on the inscriptions, and the steps were covered with snow as if no one were at home. And indeed nobody was at home, for the old man was dead.In the evening the old man was to be taken to the country to be buried there in his own grave; so they carried him away. No one followed him, for all his friends were dead, and the little boy kissed his hand to his old friend as he saw him borne away.A few days after, there was an auction at the old house, and from his window the little boy saw the people carrying away the pictures of old knights and ladies, the flowerpots with the long ears, the old chairs, and the cupboards. Some were taken one way, some another. Her portrait, which had been bought at the picture dealer’s, went back again to his shop, and there it remained, for no one seemed to know her or to care for the old picture.In the spring they began to pull the house itself down; people called it complete rubbish. From the street could be seen the room in which the walls were covered with leather, ragged and torn, and the green in the balcony hung straggling over the beams; they pulled it down quickly, for it looked ready to fall, and at last it was cleared away altogether. “What a good riddance,” said the neighbors’ houses.Afterward a fine new house was built, farther back from the road. It had lofty windows and smooth walls, but in front, on the spot where the old house really stood, a little garden was planted, and wild vines grew up over the neighboring walls. In front of the garden were large iron railings and a great gate which looked very stately. People used to stop and peep through the railings. The sparrows assembled in dozens upon the wild vines and chattered all together as loud as they could, but not about the old house. None of them could remember it, for many years had passed by; so many, indeed, that the little boy was now a man, and a really good man too, and his parents were very proud of him. He had just married and had come with his young wife to reside in the new house with the garden in front of it, and now he stood there by her side while she planted a field flower that she thought very pretty. She was planting it herself with her little hands and pressing down the earth with her fingers. “Oh, dear, what was that?” she exclaimed as something pricked her. Out of the soft earth something was sticking up.It was—only think!—it was really the tin soldier, the very same which had been lost up in the old man’s room and had been hidden among old wood and rubbish for a long time till it sank into the earth, where it must have been for many years. And the young wife wiped the soldier, first with a green leaf and then with her fine pocket handkerchief, that smelt of a beautiful perfume. And the tin soldier felt as if he were recovering from a fainting fit.“Let me see him,” said the young man, and then he smiled and shook his head and said, “It can scarcely be the same, but it reminds me of something that happened to one of my tin soldiers when I was a little boy.” And then he told his wife about the old house and the old man and of the tin soldier which he had sent across because he thought the old man was lonely. And he related the story so clearly that tears came into the eyes of the young wife for the old house and the old man.“It is very likely that this is really the same soldier,” said she, “and I will take care of him and always remember what you have told me; but some day you must show me the old man’s grave.”“I don’t know where it is,” he replied; “no one knows. All his friends are dead. No one took care of him or tended his grave, and I was only a little boy.”“Oh, how dreadfully lonely he must have been,” said she.“Yes, terribly lonely,” cried the tin soldier; “still it is delightful not to be forgotten.”“Delightful indeed!” cried a voice quite near to them. No one but the tin soldier saw that it came from a rag of the leather which hung in tatters. It had lost all its gilding and looked like wet earth, but it had an opinion, and it spoke it thus:“Gilding wears out with time and bad weather,But leather endures; there’s nothing like leather.”But the tin soldier did not believe any such thing.
Firrazzanu was the valet of a prince in Palermo, on whom he also played his tricks; but as Firrazzanu was known and everybody was amused by him, the prince overlooked them.The queen was once in Palermo, and wished to know Firrazzanu. He went to see her, and amused her somewhat. The queen said: “Are you married, or single?” “Married, your Majesty.” “I wish to make your wife’s acquaintance.” “How can that be, your Majesty, for my wife is deaf?” (Firrazzanu made this up out of his own head, for it was not true.) “No matter; when I speak with her I will scream. Go, have your wife come here.”Firrazzanu went home. “Fanny, the queen wants to know you; but you must remember that she is a little hard of hearing, and if you wish to speak to her, you must raise your voice.”“Very well,” said his wife, “let us go.” When they arrived at the palace she said to the queen, in a loud voice: “At your Majesty’s feet!” The queen said to herself: “You see, because she is deaf, she screams as if everybody else were deaf!” Then she said to her, loudly: “Good day, my friend; how do you do?” “Very well, your Majesty!” answered Firrazzanu’s wife, still louder. The queen, to make herself heard, raised her voice and screamed, also, and Fanny, for her part, cried out louder and louder, so that it seemed as if they were quarrelling. Firrazzanu could contain himself no longer, and began to laugh, so that the queen perceived the joke; and if Firrazzanu had not run away, perhaps she would have had him arrested, and who knows how the matter had ended?
In a church-nave a specter sat night by night, and the specter’s name was Torre Jeppe. He was a dried-up corpse that could not decay. One night three tailors were working at a farmstead in the neighborhood. They were laughing and joking, and among other things they asked the girl in the house, who was known to be brave, what they would have to give her to go to church and fetch back Torre Jeppe. She could trust herself to do it, was her answer; but they must give her a dress of home-spun wool for her trouble. That she should surely have, said the tailors, for they did not believe the girl would dare such a venture. Yet she took the tailors at their word and really went.When she reached the church, she took Torre Jeppe on her back, carried him home and sat him down on the bench beside the tailors. They timidly moved away; but Torre Jeppe moved after them, and looked at them with his big eyes until they nearly lost their reason. In their terror they begged the girl in the name of God to deliver them from the specter. They would gladly give her another dress if she would only carry the dead man away again. They had no need to tell her twice, for she took Torre Jeppe on her back, and dragged him away again.But when she tried to set him down in the place where she had found him, he did not want to let her go; but clasped his arms firmly about her neck. In vain she said to him several times: “Torre Jeppe, let me go!” At last he said: “I will not let you go until you promise me that you will go this very night to the brook and ask three times: ‘Anna Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?'” The girl promised to do as he said, and he at once released her. The brook was a good mile off; but she went there and asked three times in a loud voice, as she had promised: “Anna Perstochter, do you forgive Torre Jeppe?” And when she had called the third time a woman’s voice replied from out of the water: “If God has forgiven him, then I, too, forgive him!”When the girl came back to the church Torre Jeppe asked eagerly: “What did she say?” “Well, if God has forgiven you, then she, too, will forgive you!” Then Torre Jeppe thanked her and said: “Come back again before sunrise, and you shall receive your reward for the service you have done me.” The girl went back at sunrise, and in the place where the phantom had been sitting she found a bushel of silver coin. In addition she received the two dresses promised her by the tailors. But Torre Jeppe was never seen again.
A folk-tale, in its primitive plainness of word and entire absence of complexity in thought, is peculiarly sensitive and susceptible to the touch of stranger hands; and he who has been able to acquaint himself with the Norske Folkeeventyr of Asbjörnsen and Moe (from which these stories are selected), has an advantage over the reader of an English rendering. Of this advantage Mr. Kay Nielsen has fully availed himself: and the exquisite bizarrerie of his drawings aptly expresses the innermost significance of the old-world, old-wives’ fables. For to term these legends, Nursery Tales, would be to curtail them, by nine-tenths, of their interest. They are the romances of the childhood of Nations: they are the never-failing springs of sentiment, of sensation, of heroic example, from which primeval peoples drank their fill at will.The quaintness, the tenderness, the grotesque yet realistic intermingling of actuality with supernaturalism, by which the original Norske Folkeeventyr are characterised, will make an appeal to all, as represented in the pictures of Kay Nielsen. And these imperishable traditions, whose bases are among the very roots of all antiquity, are here reincarnated in line and colour, to the delight of all who ever knew or now shall know them.Permission to reprint the Stories in this book, which originally appeared in Sir G. W. Dasent’s “Popular Tales from the Norse,” has been obtained from Messrs. George Routledge & Sons, Ltd. The Three Princesses in the Blue Mountain is printed by arrangement with Messrs. David Nutt; and Prince Lindworm is newly translated for this volume.
Long, long ago there lived far away in India a woodcutter called Subha Datta and his family, who were all very happy together. The father went every day to the forest near his home to get supplies of wood, which he sold to his neighbours, earning by that means quite enough to give his wife and children all that they needed. Sometimes he took his three boys with him, and now and then, as a special treat, his two little girls were allowed to trot along beside him. The boys longed to be allowed to chop wood for themselves, and their father told them that as soon as they were old enough he would give each of them a little axe of his own. The girls, he said, must be content with breaking off small twigs from the branches he cut down, for he did not wish them to chop their own fingers off. This will show you what a kind father he was, and you will be very sorry for him when you hear about his troubles.All went well with Subha Datta for a long time. Each of the boys had his own little axe at last, and each of the girls had a little pair of scissors to cut off twigs; and very proud they all were when they brought some wood home to their mother to use in the house. One day, however, their father told them they could none of them come with him, for he meant to go a very long way into the forest, to see if he could find better wood there than nearer home. Vainly the boys entreated him to take them with him. “Not to-day,” he said, “you would be too tired to go all the way, and would lose yourselves coming back alone. You must help your mother to-day and play with your sisters.” They had to be content, for although Hindu children are as fond of asking questions as English boys and girls, they are very obedient to their parents and do all they are told without making any fuss about it.Of course, they expected their father would come back the day he started for the depths of the forest, although they knew he would be late. What then was their surprise when darkness came and there was no sign of him! Again and again their mother went to the door to look for him, expecting every moment to see him coming along the beaten path which led to their door. Again and again she mistook the cry of some night-bird for his voice calling to her. She was obliged at last to go to bed with a heavy heart, fearing some wild beast had killed him and that she would never see him again.1. What do you think had become of Subha Datta?2. What would you have done when he did not come back?When Subha Datta started for the forest, he fully intended to come back the same evening; but as he was busy cutting down a tree, he suddenly had a feeling that he was no longer alone. He looked up, and there, quite close to him, in a little clearing where the trees had been cut down by some other woodcutter, he saw four beautiful young girls looking like fairies in their thin summer dresses and with their long hair flowing down their backs, dancing round and round, holding each other’s hands. Subha Datta was so astonished at the sight that he let his axe fall, and the noise startled the dancers, who all four stood still and stared at him.The woodcutter could not say a word, but just gazed and gazed at them, till one of them said to him: “Who are you, and what are you doing in the very depths of the forest where we have never before seen a man?”“I am only a poor woodcutter,” he replied, “come to get some wood to sell, so as to give my wife and children something to eat and some clothes to wear.”“That is a very stupid thing to do,” said one of the girls. “You can’t get much money that way. If you will only stop with us we will have your wife and children looked after for you much better than you can do it yourself.”3. What would you have said if you had been the woodcutter?4. Do you think the fairies really meant that they could do as they offered?Chapter IIISubha Datta, though he certainly did love his wife and children, was so tempted at the idea of stopping in the forest with the beautiful girls that, after hesitating a little while, he said, “Yes, I will stop with you, if you are quite sure all will be well with my dear ones.”“You need not be afraid about that,” said another of the girls. “We are fairies, you see, and we can do all sorts of wonderful things. It isn’t even necessary for us to go where your dear ones are. We shall just wish them everything they want, and they will get it. And the first thing to be done is to give you some food. You must work for us in return, of course.”Subha Datta at once replied, “I will do anything you wish.”“Well, begin by sweeping away all the dead leaves from the clearing, and then we will all sit down and eat together.”Subha Datta was very glad that what he was asked to do was so easy. He began by cutting a branch from a tree, and with it he swept the floor of what was to be the dining-room. Then he looked about for the food, but he could see nothing but a great big pitcher standing in the shade of a tree, the branches of which hung over the clearing. So he said to one of the fairies, “Will you show me where the food is, and exactly where you would like me to set it out?”At these questions all the fairies began to laugh, and the sound of their laughter was like the tinkling of a number of bells.5. What was there to laugh at in the questions of Subha Datta?6. What is your idea of a fairy?When the fairies saw how astonished Subha Datta was at the way they laughed, it made them laugh still more, and they seized each other’s hands again and whirled round and round, laughing all the time.Poor Subha Datta, who was very tired and hungry, began to get unhappy and to wish he had gone straight home after all. He stooped down to pick up his axe, and was just about to turn away with it, when the fairies stopped their mad whirl and cried to him to stop. So he waited, and one of them said:“We don’t have to bother about fetching this and fetching that. You see that big pitcher. Well, we get all our food and everything else we want out of it. We just have to wish as we put our hands in, and there it is. It’s a magic pitcher—the only one there is in the whole wide world. You get the food you would like to have first, and then we’ll tell you what we want.”Subha Datta could hardly believe his ears when he heard that. Down he threw his axe, and hastened to put his hand in the pitcher, wishing for the food he was used to. He loved curried rice and milk, lentils, fruit and vegetables, and very soon he had a beautiful meal spread out for himself on the ground. Then the fairies called out, one after the other, what they wanted for food, things the woodcutter had never heard of or seen, which made him quite discontented with what he had chosen for himself.7. What would you have wished for if you had had a magic pitcher?8. Would it be a good thing, do you think, to be able to get food without working for it or paying for it?The next few days passed away like a dream, and at first Subha Datta thought he had never been so happy in his life. The fairies often went off together leaving him alone, only coming back to the clearing when they wanted something out of the pitcher. The woodcutter got all kinds of things he fancied for himself, but presently he began to wish he had his wife and children with him to share his wonderful meals. He began to miss them terribly, and he missed his work too. It was no good cutting trees down and chopping up wood when all the food was ready cooked. Sometimes he thought he would slip off home when the fairies were away, but when he looked at the pitcher he could not bear the thought of leaving it.9. What sort of man do you think Subha Datta was from what this story tells you about him?10. What do you think was the chief cause of his becoming discontented after he had been in the service of the fairies for a few days?Soon Subha Datta could not sleep well for thinking of the wife and children he had deserted. Suppose they were hungry when he had plenty to eat! It even came into his head that he might steal the pitcher and take it home with him when the fairies were away. But he had not after all the courage to do this; for even when the beautiful girls were not in sight, he had a feeling that they would know if he tried to go off with the pitcher, and that they would be able to punish him in some terrible way. One night he had a dream that troubled him very much. He saw his wife sitting crying bitterly in the little home he used to love, holding the youngest child on her knee whilst the other three stood beside her looking at her very, very sadly. He started up from the ground on which he lay, determined to go home at once; but at a little distance off he saw the fairies dancing in the moonlight, and somehow he felt again he could not leave them and the pitcher. The next day, however, he was so miserable that the fairies noticed it, and one of them said to him: “Whatever is the matter? We don’t care to keep unhappy people here. If you can’t enjoy life as we do, you had better go home.”Then Subha Datta was very much frightened lest they should really send him away; so he told them about his dream and that he was afraid his dear ones were starving for want of the money lie used to earn for them.“Don’t worry about them,” was the reply: “we will let your wife know what keeps you away. We will whisper in her ear when she is asleep, and she will be so glad to think of your happiness that she will forget her own troubles.”11. Do you think what the fairies said to the woodcutter was likely to comfort him about his wife and children?12. If you had been in Subha Datta’s place what would you have said to the fairies when they made this promise?Chapter VIISubha Datta was very much cheered by the sympathy of the fairies, so much so that he decided to stop with them for a little longer at least. Now and then he felt restless, but on the whole the time passed pleasantly, and the pitcher was a daily delight to him.Meanwhile his poor wife was at her wits’ end how to feed her dear children. If it had not been that the two boys were brave, plucky little chaps, she really would have been in despair. When their father did not come back and all their efforts to find him were in vain, these boys set to work to help their mother. They could not cut down trees, but they could climb them and chop off small branches with their axes; and this they did, making up bundles of faggots and selling them to their neighbours. These neighbours were touched by the courage they showed, and not only paid them well for the wood but often gave them milk and rice and other little things to help them. In time they actually got used to being without Subha Datta, and the little girls nearly forgot all about him. Little did they dream of the change that was soon to come into their lives.13. Was it a good or a bad thing for the boys that their father did not come back?14. If you think it was a good thing, will you explain why? and if it was a bad thing, why you think it was?Chapter VIIIA month passed peacefully away in the depths of the forest, Subha Datta waiting on the fairies and becoming every day more selfish and bent on enjoying himself. Then he had another dream, in which he saw his wife and children in the old home with plenty of food, and evidently so happy without him that he felt quite determined to go and show them he was still alive. When he woke he said to the fairies, “I will not stop with you any longer. I have had a good time here, but I am tired of this life away from my own people.”The fairies saw he was really in earnest this time, so they consented to let him go; but they were kind-hearted people and felt they ought to pay him in some way for all he had done for them. They consulted together, and then one of them told him they wished to make him a present before he went away, and they would give him whatever he asked for.15. What do you think it was that made Subha Datta determine to go home when he found his wife and children could do without him?16. What would you have chosen if the fairies had told you you could have anything you liked?Directly the woodcutter heard he could have anything he asked for, he cried, “I will have the magic pitcher.”You can just imagine what a shock this was to the fairies! You know, of course, that fairies always keep their word. If they could not persuade Subha Datta to choose something else, they would have to give him their beloved, their precious pitcher and would have to seek their food for themselves. They all tried all they could to persuade the woodcutter to choose something else. They took him to their own secret treasure-house, in an old, old tree with a hollow trunk, even the entrance to which no mortal had ever been allowed to see. They blindfolded him before they started, so that he could never reveal the way, and one of them led him by the hand, telling him where the steps going down from the tree began. When at last the bandage was taken from his eyes, he found himself in a lofty hall with an opening in the roof through which the light came. Piled up on the floor were sparkling stones worth a great deal of gold and silver money, and on the walls hung beautiful robes. Subha Datta was quite dazed with all lie saw, but he was only an ignorant woodcutter and did not realize the value of the jewels and clothes. So when the fairies, said to him, “Choose anything you like here and let us keep our pitcher,” he shook his head and said: “No! no! no! The pitcher! I will have the pitcher!” One fairy after another picked up the rubies and diamonds and other precious stones and held them in the light, that the woodcutter might see how lovely they were; and when he still only shook his head, they got down the robes and tried to make him put one of them on. “No! the pitcher! the pitcher!” he said, and at last they had to give it up. They bound his eyes again and led him back to the clearing and the pitcher.17. Would you have been tempted to give up the pitcher when you saw the jewels and the robes?18. What made Subha Datta so determined to have the pitcher?Even when they were all back again in the clearing the fairies did not quite give up hope of keeping their pitcher. This time they gave other reasons why Subha Datta should not have it. “It will break very easily,” they told him, “and then it will be no good to you or any one else. But if you take some of the money, you can buy anything you like with it. If you take some of the jewels you can sell them for lots of money.”“No! no! no!” cried the woodcutter. “The pitcher! the pitcher! I will have the pitcher!”“Very well then, take, the pitcher,” they sadly answered, “and never let us see your face again!”So Subha Datta took the pitcher, carrying it very, very carefully, lest he should drop it and break it before he got home. He did not think at all of what a cruel thing it was to take it away from the fairies, and leave them either to starve or to seek for food for themselves. The poor fairies watched him till he was out of sight, and then they began to weep and wring their hands. “He might at least have waited whilst we got some food out for a few days,” one of them said. “He was too selfish to think of that,” said another. “Come, let us forget all about him and go and look for some fruit.”So they all left off crying and went away hand in hand. Fairies do not want very much to eat. They can live on fruit and dew, and they never let anything make them sad for long at a time. They go out of this story now, but you need not be unhappy about them, because you may be very sure that they got no real harm from their generosity to Subha Datta in letting him take the pitcher.19. Do you think the woodcutter was wrong to ask for the pitcher?20. What would have been the best thing for Subha Datta to ask for, if he had decided to let the fairies keep their pitcher?You can just imagine what a surprise it was to Subha Datta’s wife and children when they saw him coming along the path leading to his home. He did not bring the pitcher with him, but had hidden it in a hollow tree in the wood near his cottage, for he did not mean any one to know that he had it. He told his wife that he had lost his way in the forest, and had been afraid he would never see her or his children again, but he said nothing about the fairies. When his wife asked him how he had got food, he told her a long story about the fruits he had found, and she believed all he said, and determined to make up to him now for all she thought he had suffered. When she called the little girls to come and help her get a nice meal for their father, Subha Datta said: “Oh, don’t bother about that! I’ve brought something back with me. I’ll go and fetch it, but no one is to come with me.”Subha Datta’s wife was sorely disappointed at this, because she loved her husband so much that it was a joy to her to work for him. The children too wanted, of course, to go with their father, but he ordered them to stop where they were. He seized a big basket which was fall of fuel for the fire, tumbled all the wood in it on the floor, and went off alone to the pitcher. Very soon he was back again with his basket full of all sorts of good things, the very names of which his wife and children had no idea of. “There!” he cried; “what do you think of that? Am I not a clever father to have found all that in the forest? Those are the ‘fruits’ I meant when I told Mother about them.”21. What would you have thought about this wonderful supply of food, if you had been one of the woodcutter’s children?22. Was it a good thing for those children to have all this food without working for it? If not, why was it not a good thing?Chapter XIILife was now, of course, completely changed for the family in the forest. Subha Datta no longer went to cut wood to be sold, and the boys also left off doing so. Every day their father fetched food for them all, and the greatest desire of each one of the family was to find out where it came from. They never could do so, for Subha Datta managed to make them afraid to follow him when he went forth with his basket. The secret he kept from the wife to whom he used to tell everything soon began to spoil the happiness of the home. The children who had no longer anything to do quarrelled with each other. Their mother got sadder and sadder, and at last decided to tell Subha Datta that, unless he would let her know where the food came from, she would go away from him and take her little girls with her. She really did mean to do this, but something soon happened to change everything again. Of course, the neighbours in the wood, who had bought the fuel from the boys and helped them by giving them fruit and rice, heard of the return of their father and of the wonderful change in their lot. Now the whole family had plenty to eat every day, though none of them knew where it all came from. Subha Datta was very fond of showing off what he could do, and sometimes asked his old friends amongst the woodcutters to come and have a meal with him. When they arrived they would find all sorts of good things spread out on the ground and different kinds of wines in beautiful bottles.This went on for some months, Subha Datta getting prouder and prouder of all that he could do, and it seemed likely that his secret would never be discovered. Everybody tried to find it out, and many followed him secretly when he set forth into the woods; but he was very clever at dodging them, hiding his treasure constantly in a new place in the dead of the night. If he had only been content with getting food out of his pitcher and drinking pure water, all would most likely have been well with him. But that was just what he could not do. Till he had his pitcher he had never drunk anything but water, but now he often took too much wine. It was this which led to the misfortune of losing his beloved pitcher. He began to boast of his cleverness, telling his friends there was nothing they wanted that he could not get for them; and one day when he had given them a very grand feast, in which were several rare kinds of food they had asked for, he drank too much wine—so much that he no longer knew what he was saying.This was the chance his guests wanted. They began teasing him, telling him they believed he was really a wicked robber, who had stolen the food or the money to buy it. He got angry, and at last was actually silly enough to tell them all to come with him, and he would show them he was no robber. When his wife heard this, she was half pleased to think that now at last the secret would come out of where the food came from, and half afraid that something terrible would happen. The children too were greatly excited, and went with the rest of the party, who followed their father to the last hiding-place of the precious pitcher.When, they all got very near the place, however, some idea began to come into Subha Datta’s head that he was doing a very foolish thing. He stopped suddenly, turned round facing the crowd that followed him, and said he would not go a step further till they all went back to the cottage. His wife begged him to let her at least go with him, and the children all clamoured not to be sent back, but it was no good. Back they all had to go, the woodcutter watching till they were out of sight.23. Would Subha Datta have been wise if he had told has wife about the pitcher?24. Do you think it would have been a good or a bad thing for the secret to be found out?Chapter XIIIWhen the woodcutter was quite sure that every one was gone and nobody could see where he had hidden the pitcher, he took it from the hole in which it lay and carried it carefully to his home. You can imagine how everybody rushed out to meet him when he came in sight, and crowded round him, so that there was danger of the pitcher being thrown to the ground and broken. Subha Datta however managed to get into the cottage without any accident, and then he began to take things out of the pitcher and fling them on the ground, shouting, “Am I a robber? Am I a robber? Who dared to call me a robber?” Then, getting more and more excited, he picked up the pitcher, and holding it on his shoulder began to dance wildly about. His wife called out to him, “Oh, take care, take care! You will drop it!” But he paid no attention to her. Suddenly, however, he began to feel giddy and fell to the ground, dropping the pitcher as he did so. It was broken to pieces, and a great cry of sorrow went up from all who saw the accident. The woodcutter himself was broken-hearted, for he knew that he had done the mischief himself, and that if only he had resisted the temptation to drink the wine he would still have his treasure.He was going to pick up the pieces to see if they could be stuck together, but to his very great surprise lie could not touch them. He heard a silvery laugh, and what sounded like children clapping their hands, and he thought he also heard the words, “Our pitcher is ours again!” Could it all have been a dream? No: for there on the ground were the fruits and cakes that had been in the pitcher, and there were his wife, his children and his friends, all looking sadly and angrily at him. One by one the friends went away, leaving Subha Datta alone with his family.25. If you had been Subha Datta’s wife, what would you have done when this misfortune came to her husband?26. What would you have done if you had been the woodcutter?Chapter XIVThis is the end of the story of the Magic Pitcher, but it was the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of Subha Datta and his family. They never forgot the wonder-working pitcher, and the children were never tired of hearing the story of how their father came to get it. They often wandered about in the forest, hoping that they too would meet with some wonderful adventure, but they never saw the fairies or found a magic pitcher. By slow degrees the woodcutter returned to his old ways, but he had learnt one lesson. He never again kept a secret from his wife; because he felt sure that, if he had told her the truth about the pitcher when he first came home, she would have helped him to save the precious treasure.27. What lesson can be learnt from this story?28. Do you think it is easier for a boy or a girl to keep a secret?29. Why is it wrong to let out a secret you have been told?30. What do you think was the chief fault in the character of Subha Datta?
Prince Llewelyn had a favourite greyhound named Gellert that had been given to him by his father-in-law, King John. He was as gentle as a lamb at home but a lion in the chase. One day Llewelyn went to the chase and blew his horn in front of his castle. All his other dogs came to the call but Gellert never answered it. So he blew a louder blast on his horn and called Gellert by name, but still the greyhound did not come. At last, Prince Llewelyn could wait no longer and went off to the hunt without Gellert. He had little sport that day because Gellert was not there, the swiftest and boldest of his hounds.He turned back in a rage to his castle, and as he came to the gate, who should he see but Gellert come bounding out to meet him. But when the hound came near him, the Prince was startled to see that his lips and fangs were dripping with blood. Llewelyn started back and the greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised or afraid at the way his master greeted him.Now Prince Llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom Gellert used to play, and a terrible thought crossed the Prince’s mind that made him rush towards the child’s nursery. And the nearer he came the more blood and disorder he found about the rooms. He rushed into it and found the child’s cradle overturned and daubed with blood.Prince Llewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for his little son everywhere. He could find him nowhere but only signs of some terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed. At last he felt sure the dog had destroyed his child, and shouting to Gellert, “Monster, thou hast devoured my child,” he drew out his sword and plunged it in the greyhound’s side, who fell with a deep yell and still gazing in his master’s eyes.As Gellert raised his dying yell, a little child’s cry answered it from beneath the cradle, and there Llewelyn found his child unharmed and just awakened from sleep. But just beside him lay the body of a great gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood. Too late, Llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. Gellert had stayed behind to guard the child and had fought and slain the wolf that had tried to destroy Llewelyn’s heir.In vain was all Llewelyn’s grief; he could not bring his faithful dog to life again. So he buried him outside the castle walls within sight of the great mountain of Snowdon, where every passer-by might see his grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. And to this day the place is called Beth Gellert, or the Grave of Gellert.
There is an old man with wrinkles like wrinkled leather on his face living among the cornfields on the rolling prairie near the Shampoo river. His name is John Jack Johannes Humma- dummaduffer. His cronies and the people who know him call him Feed Box. His daughter is a cornfield girl with hair shining the way cornsilk shines when the corn is ripe in the fall time. The tassels of corn- silk hang down and blow in the wind with a rusty dark gold, and they seem to get mixed with her hair. Her name is Eva Evelyn Evangeline Hummadummaduffer. And her chums and the people who know her call her Sky Blue. The eleventh month, November, comes every year to the corn belt on that rolling prairie. The wagons bring the corn from the fields in the harvest days and the cracks in the corncribs shine with the yellow and gold of the corn. The harvest moon comes, too. They say it stacks sheaves of the November gold moon- shine into gold corn shocks on the sky. So they say. On those mornings in November that time of the year, the old man they call Feed Box sits where the sun shines against the boards of a corncrib.The girl they call Sky Blue, even though her name is Eva Evelyn Evangeline Humma- dummaduffer, she comes along one November morning. Her father is sitting in the sun with his back against a corncrib. And he tells her he always sits there every year listening to the mice in the cornfields getting ready to move into the big farmhouse. “When the frost comes and the corn is husked and put in the corncribs, the fields are cleaned and the cold nights come. Papa mouse and mama mouse tell the little ones it is time to sneak into the cellar and the garret and the attic of the farmhouse,” said Feed Box to Sky Blue. “I am listening,” she said, “and I can hear the papa mouse and the mama mouse telling the little ones how they will find rags and paper and wool and splinters and shavings and hair, and they will make warm nests for the winter in the big farmhouse—if no kits, cats nor kittycats get them.”The old man, Feed Box, rubbed his back and his shoulders against the boards of the corncrib and washed his hands almost as if he might be washing them in the gold of the autumn sunshine. Then he told this hap- pening: This time of the year, when the mouse in the fields whispers so I can hear him, I re- member one November when I was a boy. One night in November when the harvest moon was shining and stacking gold corn- shocks in the sky, I got lost. Instead of going home I was going away from home. And the next day and the next night instead of going home I was going away from home. That second night I came to a haystack where a yellow and gold cricket was singing. And he was singing the same songs the crickets sing in the haystacks back home where the Hummadummaduffers raise hay and corn, in the corn belt near the Shampoo river.And he told me, this cricket did, he told me when he listened soft if everything was still in the grass and the sky, he could hear golden crickets singing in the cornshocks the harvest moon had stacked in the sky. I went to sleep listening to the singing of the yellow and gold crickets in that haystack. It was early in the morning, long before day- light, I guess, the two of us went on a trip away from the haystack. We took a trip. The yellow and gold cricket led the way. “It is the call of the harvest moon,” he said to me in a singing whisper. “We are going up to the moon towns where the harvest moon stacks the cornshocks on the sky.” We came to a little valley in the sky. And the harvest moon had slipped three little towns into that valley, three little towns named Half Moon, Baby Moon, and Silver Moon. In the town of Half Moon they look out of the doors and come in at the windows. So they have taken all the doorbells off the doors and put them on the windows. Whenever we rang a doorbell we went to a window.In the town of Baby Moon they had windows on the chimneys so the smoke can look out of the window and see the weather before it comes out over the top of the chimney. And whenever the chimneys get tired of being stuck up on the top of the roof, the chimneys climb down and dance in the cellar. We saw five chimneys climb down and join hands and bump heads and dance a laughing chimney dance. In the town of Silver Moon the cellars are not satisfied. They say to each other, “We are tired of being under, always under.”So the cellars slip out from being under, always under. They slip out and climb up on top of the roof. And that was all we saw up among the moon towns of Half Moon, Baby Moon and Silver Moon. We had to get back to the haystack so as to get up in the morning after our night sleep. “This time of the year I always remember that November,” said the old man, Feed Box, to his daughter, Sky Blue. And Sky Blue said, “I am going to sleep in a haystack sometime in November just to see if a yellow and gold cricket will come with a singing whisper and take me on a trip to where the doorbells are on the windows and the chimneys climb down and dance.”The old man murmured, “Don’t forget the cellars tired of being under, always under.”
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.He was very much admired indeed. “He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.” And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. “I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he flew away.All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”Then he saw the statue on the tall column.“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”Then another drop fell.“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.“Who are you?” he said.“I am the Happy Prince.”“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you have quite drenched me.”“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.”But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.”“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. “How wonderful the stars are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power of love!”“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better”; and he sank into a delicious slumber.Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. “It is curious,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.”“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; and he began to weep.“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am going to Egypt”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. “What a lovely bit of glass,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.”Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. “We have bread now!” they cried.Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-bye, dear Prince!” he murmured, “will you let me kiss your hand?”“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is litttle better than a beggar!”“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!” continued the Mayor. “We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.” And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. “As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. “We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of myself.”“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”
Wassamo was living with his parents on the shore of a large bay, far out in the north-east.One day, when the season had commenced for fish to be plenty, the mother of Wassamo said to him, “My son, I wish you would go to yonder point and see if you can not procure me some fish; and ask your cousin to accompany you.”He did so. They set out, and in the course of the afternoon they arrived at the fishing-ground.The cousin, being the elder, attended to the nets, and they encamped near by, using the bark of the birch for a lodge to shelter them through the night.They lit a fire, and while they sat conversing with each other, the moon arose. Not a breath of wind disturbed the smooth surface of the lake. Not a cloud was seen. Wassamo looked out on the water toward their nets, and he saw that the little black spots, which were no other than the floats, dotting the lake, had disappeared.“Cousin,” he said, “let us visit our nets; perhaps we are fortunate.”When they drew up the nets they were rejoiced to see the meshes shining white, all over, with the glittering prey. They landed in fine spirits, and put away their canoe in safety from the winds.“Wassamo,” said the cousin, “you cook that we may eat.”Wassamo set about the work at once, and soon had his great kettle swung upon its branch, while the cousin lay at his ease upon the other side of the fire.“Cousin,” said Wassamo, “tell me stories or sing me some love-songs.”The cousin obeyed, and sung his plaintive songs; or he would frequently break off in the midst of a mournful chant, and begin to recite a mirthful story, and then in the midst of Wassamo’s laughter he would return to the plaintive ditty—just as it suited his fancy; for the cousin was gay of spirit, and shifted his humor faster than the fleecy clouds that appeared and disappeared in the night-sky over their heads. In this changeful pastime the cousin ran his length, and then he fell away, murmuring parts of his song or story, into a silvery sleep; with the moon gliding through the branches and gilding his face.Wassamo in the mean while had lost the sound of his cousin’s voice in the rich simmer of the kettle; and when its music pleased his ear the most, as announcing that the fish were handsomely cooked, he lifted the kettle from the fire. He spoke to his cousin, but he received no answer.He went on with his housekeeping alone, and took the wooden ladle and skimmed the kettle neatly, for the fish were very plump and fat. Wassamo had a torch of twisted bark in one hand to give light, and when he came to take out the fish, there was no one to have charge of the torch.The cousin was so happy in his sleep, with the silver moon kissing his cheeks, as though she were enamored of his fair looks, that Wassamo had not the heart to call him up.Binding his girdle upon his brow, in this he thrust the torch, and went forward, with the light dancing through the green leaves at every turn of his head, to prepare the evening meal.He again spoke to his cousin, but gently, to learn whether he was in truth asleep. The cousin murmured, but made no reply; and Wassamo stepped softly about with the dancing fire-plume lighting up the gloom of the forest at every turn he made.Suddenly he heard a laugh It was double, or the one must be the perfect echo of the other. To Wassamo there appeared to be two persons at no great distance.“Cousin,” said Wassamo, “some person is near us. I hear a laugh; awake and let us look out!”The cousin made no answer.Again Wassamo heard the laughter in mirthful repetition, like the ripple of the water-brook upon the shining pebbles of the stream. Peering out as far as the line of the torchlight pierced into the darkness, he beheld two beautiful young females smiling on him. Their countenances appeared to be perfectly white, like the fresh snow.He crouched down and pushed his cousin, saying, in a low voice, “Awake! awake! here are two young women.”But he received no answer. His cousin seemed lost to all earthly sense and sound; for he lay unmoved, smiling, in the calm light of the moon. Wassamo started up alone, and glided toward the strange females.As he approached them he was more and more enraptured with their beauty; but just as he was about to speak to them, he suddenly fell to the earth, and they all three vanished together. The moon shone where they had just stood, but she saw them not. A gentle sound of music and soft voices accompanied their vanishing, and this wakened the cousin.As he opened his eyes, in a dreamy way, he saw the kettle near him. Some of the fish he observed were in the bowl. The fire flickered, and made light and shadow; but nowhere was Wassamo to be seen. He waited, and waited again, in the expectation that Wassamo would appear.“Perhaps,” thought the cousin, “he is gone out again to visit the nets.”He looked off that way, but the canoe still lay close by the rock at the shore. He searched and found his footsteps in the ashes, and out upon the green ground a little distance, and then they were utterly lost.He was now greatly troubled in spirit, and he called aloud, “Netawis! cousin! cousin!” but there was no answer to his call. He called again in his sorrow, louder and louder, “Netawis! Netawis! cousin! cousin! whither are you gone?” But no answer came to his voice of wailing. He started for the edge of the woods, crying as he ran, “My cousin!” and “Oh, my cousin!”Hither and thither through the forest he sped with all his fleetness of foot and quickness of spirit; and when at last he found that no voice would answer him, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud.He returned to the fire, and sat down. He mused upon the absence of Wassamo with a sorely-troubled heart. “He may have been playing me a trick,” he thought; but it was full time that the trick should be at an end, and Wassamo returned not. The cousin cherished other hopes, but they all died away in the morning light, when he found himself alone by the hunting-fire.“How shall I answer to his friends for Wassamo?” thought the cousin. “Although,” he said to himself, “his parents are my kindred, and they are well assured that their son is my bosom-friend, will they receive that belief in the place of him who is lost. No, no; they will say that I have slain him, and they will require blood for blood. Oh! my cousin, whither are you gone?”He would have rested to restore his mind to its peace, but he could not sleep; and, without further regard to net or canoe, he set off for the village, running all the way.As they saw him approaching at such speed and alone, they said, “Some accident has happened.”When he had come into the village, he told them how Wassamo had disappeared. He stated all the circumstances. He kept nothing to himself. He declared all that he knew.Some said, “He has killed him in the dark.” Others said, “It is impossible; they were like brothers; they would have fallen for each other. It can not be.”At the cousin’s request, many of the men visited the fish-fire. There were no marks of blood. No hasty steps were there to show that any conflict or struggle had occurred. Every leaf on every tree was in its place; and they saw, as the cousin had before, that the foot-prints of Wassamo stopped in the wood, as if he had gone no further upon the earth, but had ascended into the air.They returned to the village, and no man was the wiser as to the strange and sudden vanishing of Wassamo. None ever looked to see him more; only the parents, who still hoped and awaited his return.The spring, with all its blossoms and its delicate newness of life, came among them; the Indians assembled to celebrate their vernal feast from all the country round.Among them came the sad cousin of Wassamo. He was pale and thin as the shadow of the shaft that flies. The pain of his mind had changed his features, and wherever he turned his eyes, they were dazzled with the sight of the red blood of his friend.The parents of Wassamo, far gone in despair, and weary with watching for his return, now demanded the life of Netawis. The village was stirred to its very heart by their loud lamentings; and, after a struggle of pity, they decided to give the young man’s life to the parents. They said that they had waited long enough. A day was appointed on which the cousin was to yield his life for his friend’s.He was a brave youth, and they bound him only by his word to be ready at the appointed hour. He said that he was not afraid to die; for he was innocent of the great wrong they laid to his charge.A day or two before the time set to take his life, he wandered sadly along the shore of the lake. He looked at the glassy water, and more than once the thought to end his griefs by casting himself in its depths, came upon him with such sudden force that it was only by severe self-control that he was able to turn his steps in another direction. He reflected—”They will say that I was guilty if I take my own life. No. I will give them my blood for that of my cousin.”He walked on, with slow steps, but he found no comfort, turn where he would; the sweet songs of the grove jarred upon his ear; the beauty of the blue sky pained his sight; and the soft green earth, as he trode upon it, seemed harsh to his foot, and sent a pang through every nerve. “Oh, where is my cousin?” he kept saying to himself.Meanwhile, when Wassamo fell senseless before the two young women in the wood, he lost all knowledge of himself until he wakened in a distant scene. He heard persons conversing. One spoke in a tone of command, saying, “You foolish girls, is this the way that you rove about at nights without our knowledge? Put that person you have brought on that couch of yours, and do not let him lie upon the ground.”Wassamo felt himself moved, he knew not how, and placed upon a couch. Some time after, the spell seemed to be a little lightened, and on opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that he was lying in a spacious and shining lodge, extending as far as the eye could reach.One spoke to him and said: “Stranger, awake, and take something wherewith to refresh yourself.”He obeyed the command and sat up. On either side of the lodge he beheld rows of people seated in orderly array. At a distance he could see two stately persons, who looked rather more in years than the others, and who appeared to exact obedience from all around them. One of them, whom he heard addressed as the Old Spirit-man, spoke to Wassamo. “My son,” said he, “know it was those foolish girls who brought you hither. They saw you at the fishing-ground. When you attempted to approach them you fell senseless, and at the same moment they transported you to this place. We are under the earth. But be at ease. We will make your stay with us pleasant. I am the guardian Spirit of the Sand Mountains. They are my charge. I pile them up, and blow them about, and do whatever I will with them. It keeps me very busy, but I am hale for my age, and I love to be employed. I have often wished to get one of your race to marry among us. If you can make up your mind to remain, I will give you one of my daughters—the one who smiled on you first, the night you were brought away from your parents and friends.”Wassamo dropped his head and made no answer. The thought that he should behold his kindred no more, made him sad.He was silent, and the Old Spirit continued: “Your wants will all be supplied; but you must be careful not to stray far from the lodge. I am afraid of that Spirit who rules all islands lying in the lakes. He is my bitter enemy, for I have refused him my daughter in marriage; and when he learns that you are a member of my family, he will seek to harm you. There is my daughter,” added the Old Spirit, pointing toward her. “Take her. She shall be your wife.”Forthwith Wassamo and the Old Spirit’s daughter sat near each other in the lodge, and they were man and wife.One evening the Old Spirit came in after a busy day’s work out among the sand-hills, in the course of which he had blown them all out of shape with great gusts of wind, and strewn them about in a thousand directions, and brought them back and piled them up in all sorts of misshapen heaps.At the close of this busy day, when the Old Spirit came in very much out of breath, he said to Wassamo, “Son-in-law, I am in want of tobacco. None grows about this dry place of mine. You shall return to your people and procure me a supply. It is seldom that the few who pass these sand-hills offer me a piece of tobacco,—it is a rare plant in these parts,—but when they do, it immediately comes to me. Just so,” he added, putting his hand out of the side of the lodge and drawing in several pieces of tobacco which some one passing at that moment offered as a fee to the Old Spirit, to keep the sand-hills from blowing about till they had got by.Other gifts beside tobacco came in the same way to the side of the lodge—sometimes a whole bear, then a wampum-robe, then a string of birds—and the Sand-Spirits altogether led an easy life; for they were not at the trouble to hunt or clothe themselves; and whenever the housekeeping began to fall short, nothing would happen but a wonderful storm of dust, all the sand-hills being straightway put in an uproar, and the contributions would at once begin to pour in at the side windows of the lodge, till all their wants were supplied.After Wassamo had been among these curious people several months, the old Sand-Spirit said to him, “Son-in-law, you must not be surprised at what you will see next; for since you have been with us you have never known us to go to sleep. It has been summer when the sun never sets here where we live. But now, what you call winter, is coming on. You will soon see us lie down, and we shall not rise again till the spring. Take my advice. Do not leave the lodge. I have sure knowledge that that knavish Island Spirit is on the prowl, and as he has command of a particular kind of storm, which comes from the south-west, he only waits his opportunity to catch you abroad and do you a mischief. Try and amuse yourself. That cupboard,” pointing to a corner of the lodge, “is never empty; for it is there that all the offerings are handed in while we are asleep. It is never empty, and—” But ere the old Sand-Spirit could utter another word, a loud rattling of thunder was heard, and instantly, not only the Old Spirit but every one of his family, vanished out of sight.When the storm had passed by, they all reappeared in the lodge. This sudden vanishing and reappearance occurred at every tempest.“You are surprised,” said the Old Spirit, “to see us disappear when it thunders. The reason is this: that noise which you fancy is thunder, is our enemy the Island Spirit hallooing on his way home from the hunt. We get out of sight that we may escape the necessity of asking him to come in and share our evening meal. We are not afraid of him, not in the least.”Just then it chanced to thunder again, and Wassamo observed that his father-in-law made extraordinary dispatch to conceal himself, although no stranger, at all resembling in any way the Island Spirit, was in view.Shortly after this the season of sleep began, and one by one they laid themselves down to the long slumber.The Old Spirit was the last to drop away; and, before he yielded, he went forth and had his last sport with the sand-hills, and he so tossed and vexed the poor hills, and scattered them to and fro, and whirled them up in the air, and far over the land, that it was days and days before they got back to any thing like their natural shape.While his relations were enjoying this long sleep, Wassamo amused himself as best he could. The cupboard never failed him once: for visit it when he would, he always found a fresh supply of game, and every other dainty which his heart desired.But his chief pastime was to listen to the voices of the travelers who passed by the window at the side of the lodge where they made their requests for comfortable weather and an easy journey.These were often mingled with loud complainings, such as “Ho! how the sand jumps about!” “Take away that hill!” “I am lost!” “Old Sand-Spirit, where are you? help this way!” and the like, which indicated that such as were journeying through the hills had their own troubles to encounter.As the spring-light of the first day of spring shone into the lodge, the whole family arose and went about the affairs of the day as though they had been slumbering only for a single night. The rest of the Old Spirit seemed to have done him much good, for he was very cheerful; and, first putting his head forth from the window for a puff at a sand-hill, which was his prime luxury in a morning, he said to Wassamo, “Son-in-law, you have been very patient with our long absence from your company, and you shall be rewarded. In a few days you may start with your wife to visit your relations. You can be absent one year, but at the end of that time you must return. When you get to your home-village, you must first go in alone. Leave your wife at a short distance from the lodge, and when you are welcome, then send for her. When there, do not be surprised that she disappears whenever you hear it thunder.” He added, with a sly look, “That old Island Spirit has a brother down in that part of the country. You will prosper in all things, for my daughter is very diligent. All the time that you pass in sleep, she will be at work. The distance is short to your village. A path leads directly to it, and when you get there, do not forget my wants as I stated to you before.”Wassamo promised obedience to these directions, and, at the appointed time, set out in company with his wife. They traveled on a pleasant course, his wife leading the way, until they reached a rising ground.At the highest point of this ground, she said, “We will soon get to your country.”It suddenly became broad day, as they came upon a high bank; they passed, unwet, for a short distance under the lake, and presently emerged from the water at the sand-banks, just off the shore where Wassamo had set his nets on the night when he had been borne away by the two strange females.He now left his wife sheltered in a neighboring wood, while he advanced toward the village alone.Musing sadly, and from time to time breaking forth in mournful cries, as he walked the shore, it was his cousin that Wassamo beheld as he turned the first point of land by the lake.With the speed of lightning the cousin rushed forward. “Netawis! Netawis!” he cried, “is it indeed you? Whence have you come, oh, my cousin?”They fell upon each other’s necks, and wept aloud. And then, without further delay or question, the cousin ran off with breathless dispatch to the village. He seemed like a shadow upon the open ground, he sped so fast.He entered the lodge where sat the mother of Wassamo in mourning for her son. “Hear me,” said the cousin. “I have seen him whom you accuse me of having killed. He will be here even while we speak.”He had scarcely uttered these words when the whole village was astir in an instant. All ran out and strained their eyes to catch the first view of him whom they had thought dead. And when Wassamo came forward, they at first fell from him as though he had been in truth one returned from the Spirit-land. He entered the lodge of his parents. They saw that it was Wassamo, living, breathing and as they had ever known him. And joy lit up the lodge-circle as though a new fire had been kindled in the eyes of his friends and kinsfolk.He related all that had happened to him from the moment of his leaving the temporary night-lodge with the flame on his head. He told them of the strange land in which he had sojourned during his absence. He added to his mother, apart from the company, that he was married, and that he had left his wife at a short distance from the village.She went out immediately in search of her; they soon found her in the wood, and all the women in the village conducted her in honor to the lodge of her new relations. The Indian people were astonished at her beauty, at the whiteness of her skin, and still more, that she was able to talk with them in their own language.The village was happy, and the feast went on as long as the supply held out. All were delighted to make the acquaintance of the old Sand-Spirit’s daughter; and as they had heard that he was a magician and guardian of great power, the tobacco which he had sent for by his son-in-law, came in, in great abundance, with every visitor.The summer and fall which Wassamo thus passed with his parents and the people of his tribe were prosperous with all the country.The cousin of Wassamo recovered heart, and sang once more his sad or mirthful chants, just as the humor was upon him; but he kept close by Wassamo, and watched him in all his movements. He made it a point to ask many questions of the country he came from; some of which his cousin replied to, but others were left entirely in the dark.At every thunder-storm, as the old Sand-Spirit had foreboded, the wife of Wassamo disappeared, much to the astonishment of her Indian company, and, to their greater wonder, she was never idle, night nor day.When the winter came on, Wassamo prepared for her a comfortable lodge, to which she withdrew for her long sleep; and he gave notice to his friends that they must not disturb her, as she would not be with them again until the spring returned.Before lying down, she said to her husband, “No one but yourself must pass on this side of the lodge.”The winter passed away with snows, and sports and stones in the lodge; and when the sap of the maple began to flow, the wife of Wassamo wakened, and she immediately set about work as before. She helped at the maple-trees with the others; and, as if luck were in her presence, the sugar-harvest was greater than had been ever known in all that region.The gifts of tobacco, after this, came in even more freely than they had at first; and as each brought his bundle to the lodge of Wassamo, he asked for the usual length of life, for success as a hunter, and for a plentiful supply of food. They particularly desired that the sand-hills might be kept quiet, so that their lands might be moist, and their eyes clear of dust to sight the game.Wassamo replied that he would mention each of their requests to his father-in-law.The tobacco was stored in sacks, and on the outside of the skins, that there might be no mistake as to their wants, each one who had given tobacco had painted and marked in distinct characters the totem or family emblem of his family and tribe. These the old Sand-Spirit could read at his leisure, and do what he thought best for each of his various petitioners.When the time for his return arrived, Wassamo warned his people that they should not follow him nor attempt to take note how he disappeared. He then took the moose-skin sacks filled with tobacco, and bade farewell to all but Netawis. He insisted on the privilege of attending Wassamo and his wife for a distance, and when they reached the sand-banks he expressed the strongest wish to proceed with them on their journey. Wassamo told him that it could not be; that only spirits could exert the necessary power, and that there were no such spirits at hand.They then took an affectionate leave of each other, Wassamo enjoining it upon his cousin, at risk of his life, to not look back when he had once started to return.The cousin, sore at heart, but constrained to obey, parted from them, and as he walked sadly away, he heard a gliding noise as of the sound of waters that were cleaved.He returned home, and told his friends that Wassamo and his wife had disappeared, but that he knew not how. No one doubted his word in any thing now.Wassamo with his wife soon reached their home at the hills. The old Sand-Spirit was in excellent health, and delighted to see them. He hailed their return with open arms; and he opened his arms so very wide, that when he closed them he not only embraced Wassamo and his wife, but all of the tobacco-sacks which they had brought with them.The requests of the Indian people were made known to him; he replied that he would attend to all, but that he must first invite his friends to smoke with him. Accordingly he at once dispatched his pipe-bearer and confidential aid to summon various Spirits of his acquaintance, and set the time for them to come.Meanwhile he had a word of advice for his son-in-law Wassamo. “My son,” said he, “some of these Manitoes that I have asked to come here are of a very wicked temper, and I warn you especially of that Island Spirit who wished to marry my daughter. He is a very bad-hearted Monedo, and would like to do you harm. Some of the company you will, however, find to be very friendly. A caution for you. When they come in, do you sit close by your wife; if you do not, you will be lost. She only can save you; for those who are expected to come are so powerful that they will otherwise draw you from your seat, and toss you out of the lodge as though you were a feather. You have only to observe my words and all will be well.”Wassamo took heed to what the Old Spirit said, and answered that he would obey.About mid-day the company began to assemble; and such a company Wassamo had never looked on before. There were Spirits from all parts of the country; such strange-looking persons, and in dresses so wild and outlandish! One entered who smiled on him. This, Wassamo was informed, was a Spirit who had charge of the affairs of a tribe in the North, and he was as pleasant and cheery a Spirit as one would wish to see. Soon after, Wassamo heard a great rumbling and roaring, as of waters tumbling over rocks; and presently, with a vast bluster, and fairly shaking the lodge with his deep-throated hail of welcome to the old Sand-Spirit, in rolled another, who was the Guardian Spirit and special director of a great cataract or water-fall not far off.Then came with crashing steps the owner of several whirlwinds, which were in the habit of raging about in the neighboring country. And following this one, glided in a sweet-spoken, gentle-faced little Spirit, who was understood to represent a summer-gale that was accustomed to blow, toward evening, in at the lodge-doors, and to be particularly well disposed toward young lovers.The last to appear was a great rocky-headed fellow; and he was twice as stony in his manners; and swaggered and strided in, and raised such a commotion with his great green blanket when he shook it, that Wassamo was nearly taken off his feet; and it was only by main force that he was able to cling by his wife. This, which was the last to enter, was that wicked Island Spirit, who looked grim enough at Wassamo’s wife, who had rejected him, as he passed in.Soon after, the old Sand-Spirit, who was a great speech-maker, arose and addressed the assembly.“Brothers,” he said, “I have invited you to partake with me of the offerings made by the mortals on earth, which have been brought by our relation,” pointing to Wassamo. “Brothers, you see their wishes and desires plainly set forth here,” laying his hand upon the figured moose-skins. “The offering is worthy of our consideration. Brothers, I see nothing on my part to hinder our granting their requests; they do not appear to be unreasonable. Brothers, the offer is gratifying. It is tobacco—an article which we have lacked until we scarcely knew how to use our pipes. Shall we grant their requests? One thing more I would say. Brothers, it is this: There is my son-in law; he is mortal. I wish to detain him with me, and it is with us jointly to make him one of us.”“Hoke! hoke!” ran through the whole company of Spirits, and “Hoke! hoke!” they cried again. And it was understood that the petitioners were to have all they asked, and that Wassamo was thenceforward fairly accepted as a member of the great family of Spirits.As a wedding-gift, the Old Spirit asked his son-in-law to make one request, which should be promptly granted.“Let there be no sand-squalls among my father’s people for three months to come,” said Wassamo.“So shall it be,” answered the old Sand-Spirit.The tobacco was now divided in equal shares among the company. They filled their pipes—and huge pipes they were—and such clouds they blew, that they rushed forth out of the lodge and brought on night, in all the country round about, several hours before its time.After a while passed in silence, the Spirits rose up, and bearing off their tobacco-sacks, they went smoking through the country, and losing themselves in their own fog, till a late hour in the morning, when all of their pipes being burned out, each departed on his own business.The very next day the old Sand-Spirit, who was very much pleased with the turn affairs had taken at his entertainment, addressed Wassamo: “Son-in-law, I have made up my mind to allow you another holiday as an acknowledgment of the handsome manner in which you acquitted yourself of your embassy. You may visit your parents and relatives once more, to tell them that their wishes are granted, and to take your leave of them forever. You can never, after, visit them again.”Wassamo at once set out, reached his people, and was heartily welcomed.They asked for his wife, and Wassamo informed them that she had tarried at home to look after a son, a fine little Sand-Spirit, who had been born to them since his return.Having delivered all of his messages and passed a happy time, Wassamo said, “I must now bid you all farewell forever.”His parents and friends raised their voices in loud lamentation; they clung to him, and as a special favor, which he could now grant, being himself a spirit, he allowed them to accompany him to the sand-banks.They all seated themselves to watch his last farewell. The day was mild; the sky clear, not a cloud appearing to dim the heavens, nor a breath of wind to ruffle the tranquil waters. A perfect silence fell upon the company. They gazed with eager eyes fastened on Wassamo, as he waded out into the water, waving his hands. They saw him descend, more and more, into the depths. They beheld the waves close over his head, and a loud and piercing wail went up which rent the sky.They looked again; a red flame, as if the sun had glanced on a billow, lighted the spot for an instant; but the Feather of Flames, Wassamo of the Fire-Plume, had disappeared from home and kindred, and the familiar paths of his youth, forever.
There were once upon a time an old peasant and his wife, and they had three sons. Two of them were clever young men who could borrow money without being cheated, but the third was the Fool of the World. He was as simple as a child, simpler than some children, and he never did any one a harm in his life.Well, it always happens like that. The father and mother thought a lot of the two smart young men; but the Fool of the World was lucky if he got enough to eat, because they always forgot him unless they happened to be looking at him, and sometimes even then.But however it was with his father and mother, this is a story that shows that God loves simple folk, and turns things to their advantage in the end.For it happened that the Tzar of that country sent out messengers along the highroads and the rivers, even to huts in the forest like ours, to say that he would give his daughter, the Princess, in marriage to any one who could bring him a flying ship—ay, a ship with wings, that should sail this way and that through the blue sky, like a ship sailing on the sea.“This is a chance for us,” said the two clever brothers; and that same day they set off together, to see if one of them could not build the flying ship and marry the Tzar’s daughter, and so be a great man indeed.And their father blessed them, and gave them finer clothes than ever he wore himself. And their mother made them up hampers of food for the road, soft white rolls, and several kinds of cooked meats, and bottles of corn brandy. She went with them as far as the highroad, and waved her hand to them till they were out of sight. And so the two clever brothers set merrily off on their adventure, to see what could be done with their cleverness. And what happened to them I do not know, for they were never heard of again.The Fool of the World saw them set off, with their fine parcels of food, and their fine clothes, and their bottles of corn brandy.“I’d like to go too,” says he, “and eat good meat, with soft white rolls, and drink corn brandy, and marry the Tzar’s daughter.”“Stupid fellow,” says his mother, “what’s the good of your going? Why, if you were to stir from the house you would walk into the arms of a bear; and if not that, then the wolves would eat you before you had finished staring at them.”>But the Fool of the World would not be held back by words.“I am going,” says he. “I am going. I am going. I am going.”He went on saying this over and over again, till the old woman his mother saw there was nothing to be done, and was glad to get him out of the house so as to be quit of the sound of his voice. So she put some food in a bag for him to eat by the way. She put in the bag some crusts of dry black bread and a flask of water. She did not even bother to go as far as the footpath to see him on his way. She saw the last of him at the door of the hut, and he had not taken two steps before she had gone back into the hut to see to more important business.No matter. The Fool of the World set off with his bag over his shoulder, singing as he went, for he was off to seek his fortune and marry the Tzar’s daughter. He was sorry his mother had not given him any corn brandy; but he sang merrily for all that. He would have liked white rolls instead of the dry black crusts; but, after all, the main thing on a journey is to have something to eat. So he trudged merrily along the road, and sang because the trees were green and there was a blue sky overhead.He had not gone very far when he met an ancient old man with a bent back, and a long beard, and eyes hidden under his bushy eyebrows.“Good-day, young fellow,” says the ancient old man.“Good-day, grandfather,” says the Fool of the World.“And where are you off to?” says the ancient old man.“What!” says the Fool; “haven’t you heard? The Tzar is going to give his daughter to any one who can bring him a flying ship.”“And you can really make a flying ship?” says the ancient old man.“No, I do not know how.”“Then what are you going to do?”“God knows,” says the Fool of the World.“Well,” says the ancient, “if things are like that, sit you down here. We will rest together and have a bite of food. Bring out what you have in your bag.”“I am ashamed to offer you what I have here. It is good enough for me, but it is not the sort of meal to which one can ask guests.”“Never mind that. Out with it. Let us eat what God has given.”The Fool of the World opened his bag, and could hardly believe his eyes. Instead of black crusts he saw fresh white rolls and cooked meats. He handed them out to the ancient, who said, “You see how God loves simple folk. Although your own mother does not love you, you have not been done out of your share of the good things. Let’s have a sip at the corn brandy….”The Fool of the World opened his flask, and instead of water there came out corn brandy, and that of the best. So the Fool and the ancient made merry, eating and drinking; and when they had done, and sung a song or two together, the ancient says to the Fool,—“Listen to me. Off with you into the forest. Go up to the first big tree you see. Make the sacred sign of the cross three times before it. Strike it a blow with your little hatchet. Fall backwards on the ground, and lie there, full length on your back, until somebody wakes you up. Then you will find the ship made, all ready to fly. Sit you down in it, and fly off whither you want to go. But be sure on the way to give a lift to everyone you meet.”The Fool of the World thanked the ancient old man, said good-bye to him, and went off to the forest. He walked up to a tree, the first big tree he saw, made the sign of the cross three times before it, swung his hatchet round his head, struck a mighty blow on the trunk of the tree, instantly fell backwards flat on the ground, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.A little time went by, and it seemed to the Fool as he slept that somebody was jogging his elbow. He woke up and opened his eyes. His hatchet, worn out, lay beside him. The big tree was gone, and in its place there stood a little ship, ready and finished. The Fool did not stop to think. He jumped into the ship, seized the tiller, and sat down. Instantly the ship leapt up into the air, and sailed away over the tops of the trees.The little ship answered the tiller as readily as if she were sailing in water, and the Fool steered for the highroad, and sailed along above it, for he was afraid of losing his way if he tried to steer a course across the open country.He flew on and on, and looked down, and saw a man lying in the road below him with his ear on the damp ground.“Good-day to you, uncle,” cried the Fool.“Good-day to you, Sky-fellow,” cried the man.“What are you doing down there?” says the Fool.“I am listening to all that is being done in the world.”“Take your place in the ship with me.”The man was willing enough, and sat down in the ship with the Fool, and they flew on together singing songs.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man on one leg, with the other tied up to his head.“Good-day, uncle,” says the Fool, bringing the ship to the ground. “Why are you hopping along on one foot?”“If I were to untie the other I should move too fast. I should be stepping across the world in a single stride.”“Sit down with us,” says the Fool.The man sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together singing songs.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man with a gun, and he was taking aim, but what he was aiming at they could not see.“Good health to you, uncle,” says the Fool. “But what are you shooting at? There isn’t a bird to be seen.”“What!” says the man. “If there were a bird that you could see, I should not shoot at it. A bird or a beast a thousand versts away, that’s the sort of mark for me.”“Take your seat with us,” says the Fool.The man sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together. Louder and louder rose their songs.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a sack full of bread on his back.“Good health to you, uncle,” says the Fool, sailing down. “And where are you off to?”“I am going to get bread for my dinner.”“But you’ve got a full sack on your back.”“That—that little scrap! Why, that’s not enough for a single mouthful.”“Take your seat with us,” says the Fool.The Eater sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together, singing louder than ever.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking round and round a lake.“Good health to you, uncle,” says the Fool. “What are you looking for?”“I want a drink, and I can’t find any water.”“But there’s a whole lake in front of your eyes. Why can’t you take a drink from that?”“That little drop!” says the man. “Why, there’s not enough water there to wet the back of my throat if I were to drink it at one gulp.”“Take your seat with us,” says the Fool.The Drinker sat down with them, and again they flew on, singing in chorus.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking towards the forest, with a fagot of wood on his shoulders.“Good-day to you, uncle,” says the Fool. “Why are you taking wood to the forest?”“This isn’t simple wood,” says the man.“What is it, then?” says the Fool.“If it is scattered about, a whole army of soldiers leaps up out of the ground.”“There’s a place for you with us,” says the Fool.The man sat down with them, and the ship rose up into the air, and flew on, carrying its singing crew.They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a sack of straw.“Good health to you, uncle,” says the Fool; “and where are you taking your straw?”“To the village.”“Why, are they short of straw in your village?”“No; but this is such straw that if you scatter it abroad in the very hottest of the summer, instantly the weather turns cold, and there is snow and frost.”“There’s a place here for you too,” says the Fool.“Very kind of you,” says the man, and steps in and sits down, and away they all sail together, singing like to burst their lungs.They did not meet any one else, and presently came flying up to the palace of the Tzar. They flew down and cast anchor in the courtyard.Just then the Tzar was eating his dinner. He heard their loud singing, and looked out of the window and saw the ship come sailing down into his courtyard. He sent his servant out to ask who was the great prince who had brought him the flying ship, and had come sailing down with such a merry noise of singing.The servant came up to the ship, and saw the Fool of the World and his companions sitting there cracking jokes. He saw they were all moujiks, simple peasants, sitting in the ship; so he did not stop to ask questions, but came back quietly and told the Tzar that there were no gentlemen in the ship at all, but only a lot of dirty peasants.Now the Tzar was not at all pleased with the idea of giving his only daughter in marriage to a simple peasant, and he began to think how he could get out of his bargain. Thinks he to himself, “I’ll set them such tasks that they will not be able to perform, and they’ll be glad to get off with their lives, and I shall get the ship for nothing.”So he told his servant to go to the Fool and tell him that before the Tzar had finished his dinner the Fool was to bring him some of the magical water of life.Now, while the Tzar was giving this order to his servant, the Listener, the first of the Fool’s companions, was listening, and heard the words of the Tzar and repeated them to the Fool.“What am I to do now?” says the Fool, stopping short in his jokes. “In a year, in a whole century, I never could find that water. And he wants it before he has finished his dinner.”“Don’t you worry about that,” says the Swift-goer, “I’ll deal with that for you.”The servant came and announced the Tzar’s command.“Tell him he shall have it,” says the Fool.His companion, the Swift-goer, untied his foot from beside his head, put it to the ground, wriggled it a little to get the stiffness out of it, ran off, and was out of sight almost before he had stepped from the ship. Quicker than I can tell it you in words he had come to the water of life, and put some of it in a bottle.“I shall have plenty of time to get back,” thinks he, and down he sits under a windmill and goes off to sleep.The royal dinner was coming to an end, and there wasn’t a sign of him. There were no songs and no jokes in the flying ship. Everybody was watching for the Swift-goer, and thinking he would not be in time.The Listener jumped out and laid his right ear to the damp ground, listened a moment, and said, “What a fellow! He has gone to sleep under the windmill. I can hear him snoring. And there is a fly buzzing with its wings, perched on the windmill close above his head.”“This is my affair,” says the Far-shooter, and he picked up his gun from between his knees, aimed at the fly on the windmill, and woke the Swift-goer with the thud of the bullet on the wood of the mill close by his head. The Swift-goer leapt up and ran, and in less than a second had brought the magic water of life and given it to the Fool. The Fool gave it to the servant, who took it to the Tzar. The Tzar had not yet left the table, so that his command had been fulfilled as exactly as ever could be.“What fellows these peasants are,” thought the Tzar. “There is nothing for it but to set them another task.” So the Tzar said to his servant, “Go to the captain of the flying ship and give him this message: ‘If you are such a cunning fellow, you must have a good appetite. Let you and your companions eat at a single meal twelve oxen roasted whole, and as much bread as can be baked in forty ovens!'”The Listener heard the message, and told the Fool what was coming. The Fool was terrified, and said, “I can’t get through even a single loaf at a sitting.”“Don’t worry about that,” said the Eater. “It won’t be more than a mouthful for me, and I shall be glad to have a little snack in place of my dinner.”The servant came, and announced the Tzar’s command.“Good,” says the Fool. “Send the food along, and we’ll know what to do with it.”So they brought twelve oxen roasted whole, and as much bread as could be baked in forty ovens, and the companions had scarcely sat down to the meal before the Eater had finished the lot.“Why,” said the Eater, “what a little! They might have given us a decent meal while they were about it.”The Tzar told his servant to tell the Fool that he and his companions were to drink forty barrels of wine, with forty bucketfuls in every barrel.The Listener told the Fool what message was coming.“Why,” says the Fool, “I never in my life drank more than one bucket at a time.”“Don’t worry,” says the Drinker. “You forget that I am thirsty. It’ll be nothing of a drink for me.”They brought the forty barrels of wine, and tapped them, and the Drinker tossed them down one after another, one gulp for each barrel. “Little enough,” says he, “Why, I am thirsty still.”“Very good,” says the Tzar to his servant, when he heard that they had eaten all the food and drunk all the wine. “Tell the fellow to get ready for the wedding, and let him go and bathe himself in the bath-house. But let the bathhouse be made so hot that the man will stifle and frizzle as soon as he sets foot inside. It is an iron bath-house. Let it be made red hot.”The Listener heard all this and told the Fool, who stopped short with his mouth open in the middle of a joke.“Don’t you worry,” says the moujik with the straw.Well, they made the bath-house red hot, and called the Fool, and the Fool went along to the bath-house to wash himself, and with him went the moujik with the straw.They shut them both into the bath-house, and thought that that was the end of them. But the moujik scattered his straw before them as they went in, and it became so cold in there that the Fool of the World had scarcely time to wash himself before the water in the cauldrons froze to solid ice. They lay down on the very stove itself, and spent the night there, shivering.In the morning the servants opened the bathhouse, and there were the Fool of the World and the moujik, alive and well, lying on the stove and singing songs.They told the Tzar, and the Tzar raged with anger. “There is no getting rid of this fellow,” says he. “But go and tell him that I send him this message: ‘If you are to marry my daughter, you must show that you are able to defend her. Let me see that you have at least a regiment of soldiers,'” Thinks he to himself, “How can a simple peasant raise a troop? He will find it hard enough to raise a single soldier.”The Listener told the Fool of the World, and the Fool began to lament. “This time,” says he, “I am done indeed. You, my brothers, have saved me from misfortune more than once, but this time, alas, there is nothing to be done.”“Oh, what a fellow you are!” says the peasant with the fagot of wood. “I suppose you’ve forgotten about me. Remember that I am the man for this little affair, and don’t you worry about it at all.”The Tzar’s servant came along and gave his message.“Very good,” says the Fool; “but tell the Tzar that if after this he puts me off again, I’ll make war on his country, and take the Princess by force.”And then, as the servant went back with the message, the whole crew on the flying ship set to their singing again, and sang and laughed and made jokes as if they had not a care in the world.During the night, while the others slept, the peasant with the fagot of wood went hither and thither, scattering his sticks. Instantly where they fell there appeared a gigantic army. Nobody could count the number of soldiers in it—cavalry, foot soldiers, yes, and guns, and all the guns new and bright, and the men in the finest uniforms that ever were seen.In the morning, as the Tzar woke and looked from the windows of the palace, he found himself surrounded by troops upon troops of soldiers, and generals in cocked hats bowing in the courtyard and taking orders from the Fool of the World, who sat there joking with his companions in the flying ship. Now it was the Tzar’s turn to be afraid. As quickly as he could he sent his servants to the Fool with presents of rich jewels and fine clothes, invited him to come to the palace, and begged him to marry the Princess.The Fool of the World put on the fine clothes, and stood there as handsome a young man as a princess could wish for a husband. He presented himself before the Tzar, fell in love with the Princess and she with him, married her the same day, received with her a rich dowry, and became so clever that all the court repeated everything he said. The Tzar and the Tzaritza liked him very much, and as for the Princess, she loved him to distraction.
My father left me the best inheritance; to wit–good humour. And who was my father? Why, that has nothing to do with the humour. He was lively and stout, round and fat; and his outer and inner man were in direct contradiction to his calling. And pray what was he by profession and calling in civil society? Yes, if this were to be written down and printed in the very beginning of a book, it is probable that many when they read it would lay the book aside, and say, “It looks so uncomfortable; I don’t like anything of that sort.”And yet my father was neither a horse slaughterer nor an executioner; on the contrary, his office placed him at the head of the most respectable gentry of the town; and he held his place by right, for it was his right place. He had to go first before the bishop even, and before the princes of the blood. He always went first–for he was the driver of the hearse!There, now it’s out! And I will confess that when people saw my father sitting perched up on the omnibus of death, dressed in his long, wide, black cloak, with his black-bordered three-cornered hat on his head–and then his face, exactly as the sun is drawn, round and jocund–it was difficult for them to think of the grave and of sorrow.The face said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter; it will be better than one thinks.”You see, I have inherited my good humour from him, and also the habit of going often to the churchyard, which is a good thing to do if it be done in the right spirit; and then I take in the Intelligencer, just as he used to do.I am not quite young. I have neither wife, nor children, nor a library; but, as aforesaid, I take in the Intelligencer, and that’s my favourite newspaper, as it was also my father’s. It is very useful, and contains everything that a man needs to know–such as who preaches in the church and in the new books. And then what a lot of charity, and what a number of innocent, harmless verses are found in it! Advertisements for husbands and wives, and requests for interviews–all quite simple and natural. Certainly, one may livemerrily and be contentedly buried if one takes in the Intelligencer.And, as a concluding advantage, by the end of his life a man will havesuch a capital store of paper, that he may use it as a soft bed,unless he prefers to rest upon wood-shavings.The newspaper and my walk to the churchyard were always my most exciting occupations–they were like bathing-places for my good humour.The newspaper every one can read for himself. But please come with me to the churchyard; let us wander there where the sun shines and the trees grow green. Each of the narrow houses is like a closed book, with the back placed uppermost, so that one can only read the title and judge what the book contains, but can tell nothing about it; but I know something of them. I heard it from my father, or found it out myself. I have it all down in my record that I wrote out for my own use and pleasure: all that lie here, and a few more too, are chronicled in it.Now we are in the churchyard.Here, behind this white railing, where once a rose tree grew–it is gone now, but a little evergreen from the next grave stretches out its green fingers to make a show–there rests a very unhappy man; and yet, when he lived, he was in what they call a good position. He had enough to live upon, and something over; but worldly cares, or to speak more correctly, his artistic taste, weighed heavily upon him. If in the evening he sat in the theatre to enjoy himself thoroughly, he would be quite put out if the machinist had put too strong a light into one side of the moon, or if the sky-pieces hung down over the scenes when they ought to have hung behind them, or when a palm tree wasintroduced into a scene representing the Berlin Zoological Gardens, or a cactus in a view of the Tyrol, or a beech tree in the far north of NorwayAs if that was of any consequence. Is it not quite immaterial? Who would fidget about such a trifle? It’s only make-believe, after all, and every one is expected to be amused. Then sometimes the public applauded too much to suit his taste, and sometimes too little.“They’re like wet wood this evening,” he would say; “they won’t kindle at all!” And then he would look round to see what kind of people they were; and sometimes he would find them laughing at the wrong time, when they ought not to have laughed, and that vexed him; and he fretted, and was an unhappy man, and at last fretted himself into his grave.Here rests a very happy man. That is to say, a very grand man. He was of high birth, and that was lucky for him, for otherwise he would never have been anything worth speaking of; and nature orders all that very wisely, so that it’s quite charming when we think of it. He used to go about in a coat embroidered back and front, and appeared in the saloons of society just like one of those costly, pearl-embroidered bell-pulls, which have always a good, thick, serviceable cord behind them to do the work. He likewise had a good stout cord behind him, in the shape of a substitute, who did his duty, and who still continues to do it behind another embroidered bell-pull. Everything is so nicely managed, it’s enough to put one into a good humour.Here rests–well, it’s a very mournful reflection–here rests a man who spent sixty-seven years considering how he should get a good idea. The object of his life was to say a good thing, and at last he felt convinced in his own mind that he had got one, and was so glad of it that he died of pure joy at having caught an idea at last. Nobody derived any benefit from it, and no one even heard what the good thing was. Now, I can fancy that this same good thing won’t let him live quiet in his grave; for let us suppose that it is a good thing which can only be brought out at breakfast if it is to make an effect, and that he, according to the received opinion concerning ghosts, can onlyrise and walk at midnight. Why, then the good thing would not suit thetime, and the man must carry his good idea down with him again. Whatan unhappy man he must be!Here rests a remarkably stingy woman. During her lifetime she used to get up at night and mew, so that the neighbours might think she kept a cat–she was so remarkably stingy.Here is a maiden of another kind. When the canary bird of the heart begins to chirp, reason puts her fingers in her ears. The maiden was going to be married, but–well, it’s an every-day story, and we will let the dead rest.Here sleeps a widow who carried melody in her mouth and gall in her heart. She used to go out for prey in the families round about; and the prey she hunted was her neighbours’ faults, and she was an indefatigable hunter.Here’s a family sepulchre. Every member of this family held so firmly to the opinions of the rest, that if all the world, and the newspapers into the bargain, said of a certain thing it is so and so, and the little boy came home from school and said, “I’ve learned it thus and thus,” they declared his opinion to be the only true one, because he belonged to the family. And it is an acknowledged fact, that if the rooster of the family crowed at midnight, they would declare it was morning, though the watchmen and all the clocks in the city were crying out that it was twelve o’clock at night.The great poet Goëthe concludes his “Faust” with the words “may be continued;” and our wanderings in the churchyard may be continued too. If any of my friends, or my non-friends, go on too fast for me, I go out to my favourite spot and select a mound, and bury him or her there–bury that person who is yet alive; and there those I bury must stay till they come back as new and improved characters. I inscribe their life and their deeds, looked at in my fashion, in my record; and that’s what all people ought to do. They ought not to be vexed when any one goes on ridiculously, but bury him directly, and maintain their good humour, and keep to the Intelligencer, which is often a book written by the people with its hand guided.When the time comes for me to be bound with my history in the boards of the grave, I hope they will put up as my epitaph, “A good-humoured one.” And that’s my story.
There was once a young shepherd who wished much to marry, and was acquainted with three sisters who were all equally pretty, so that it was difficult to him to make a choice, and he could not decide to give the preference to any one of them. Then he asked his mother for advice, and she said, “Invite all three, and set some cheese before them, and watch how they eat it.” The youth did so; the first, however, swallowed the cheese with the rind on; the second hastily cut the rind off the cheese, but she cut it so quickly that she left much good cheese with it, and threw that away also; the third peeled the rind off carefully, and cut neither too much nor too little. The shepherd told all this to his mother, who said, “Take the third for thy wife.” This he did, and lived contentedly and happily with her.
From time immemorial a ferry has existed from Andernach to the opposite side of the Rhine. Formerly it was more in use than at present, there being then a greater intercourse between the two shores of the river, much of which might be traced to the Convent of St. Thomas, once the most important and flourishing nunnery on the river.Close by this ferry, on the margin of the Rhine, but elevated somewhat above the level of the water, stands a long, roofless, ruinous building, the remains of the castle of Friedrichstein, better known, however, to the peasantry, and to all passengers on the river, as the Devil’s House. How it came by this suspicious appellative there are many traditions to explain. Some say that the Prince of Neuwied, who erected it, so ground down his subjects for its construction, that they unanimously gave it that name. Others derive its popular sobriquet from the godless revelries of the same prince within its walls, and the wild deeds of his companions in wickedness; while a third class of local historians insist upon it that the ruin takes its name from the congregation of fiendish shapes which resort there on special occasions, and the riot and rout which they create in the roofless chambers, reeking vaults, and crumbling corridors of the desolate edifice. It is to this ruin, and of the adjacent ferry, that the following legend belongs.It was in the time when the celebrated Convent of St. Thomas over Andernach existed in its pristine magnificence, that late on an autumnal night the ferryman from that city to the Devil’s House on the other side of the river, who lived on the edge of the bank below the ruins of the ancient palace of the kings of Austrasia, was accosted by a stranger, who desired to be put across just as the man was about to haul up his boat for the day. The stranger seemed to be a monk, for he was closely cowled, and gowned from head to foot in the long, dark, flowing garb of some ascetic order.“Hilloa! ferry,” he shouted aloud as he approached the shore of the river, “hilloa!”“Here, ahoy! here, most reverend father!” answered the poor ferryman. “What would ye have with me?”“I would that you ferry me across the Rhine to yonder shore of the river,” replied the monk. “I come from the Convent of St. Thomas, and I go afar on a weighty mission. Now, be ye quick, my good friend, and run me over.”“Most willingly, reverend father,” said the ferryman. “Most willingly. Step into my boat, and I’ll put you across the current in a twinkling.”The dark-looking monk entered the boat, and the ferryman shoved off from the bank. They soon reached the opposite shore. The ferryman, however, had scarce time to give his fare a good-evening ere he disappeared from his sight, in the direction of the Devil’s House. Pondering a little on this strange circumstance, and inwardly thinking that the dark monk might as well have paid him his fare, or, at least, bade him good-night before he took such unceremonious leave, he rowed slowly back across the stream to his abode at Andernach.“Hilloa! ferry,” once more resounded from the margin of the river as he approached, “hilloa!”“Here, ahoy!” responded the ferryman, but with some strange sensation of fear. “What would ye?”He rowed to the shore, but he could see no one for a while, for it was now dark. As he neared the landing-place, however, he became aware of the presence of two monks, garbed exactly like his late passenger, standing together, concealed by the shadow of the massive ruins.“Here! here!” they cried.“We would ye would ferry us over to yonder shore of the river,” said the foremost of the twain. “We go afar on a weighty errand from the Convent of St. Thomas, and we must onwards this night. So be up quick, friend, and run us over soon.”“Step in, then,” said the ferryman, not over courteously, for he remembered the trick played on him by their predecessor.They entered the boat, and the ferryman put off. Just as the prow of the boat touched the opposite bank of the river, both sprang ashore, and disappeared at once from his view, like him who had gone before them.“Ah!” said the ferryman, “if they call that doing good, or acting honestly, to cheat a hard-working poor fellow out of the reward of his labour, I do not know what bad means, or what it is to act knavishly.”He waited a little while to see if they would return to pay him, but finding that they failed to do so, he put across once more to his home at Andernach.“Hilloa! ferry,” again hailed a voice from the shore to which he was making, “hilloa!”The ferryman made no reply to this suspicious hail, but pushed off his boat from the landing-place, fully resolved in his own mind to have nothing to do with any more such black cattle that night.“Hilloa! ferry,” was again repeated in a sterner voice. “Art dead or asleep?”“Here, ahoy!” cried the ferryman. “What would ye?”He had thought of passing downwards to the other extremity of the town, and there mooring his barque below the place she usually lay in, lest any other monks might feel disposed to make him their slave without offering any recompense. He had, however, scarcely entertained the idea, when three black-robed men, clothed as the former, in long, flowing garments, but more closely cowled, if possible, than they, stood on the very edge of the stream, and beckoned him to them. It was in vain for him to try to evade them, and as if to render any effort to that effect more nugatory, the moon broke forth from the thick clouds, and lit up the scene all around with a radiance like day.“Step in, holy fathers! step in! quick!” said he, in a gruff voice, after they had told him the same tale in the very same words as the three others had used who had passed previously.They entered the boat, and again the ferryman pushed off. They had reached the centre of the stream, when he bethought him that it was then a good time to talk of his fee, and he resolved to have it, if possible, ere they could escape him.“But what do you mean to give me for my trouble, holy fathers?” he inquired. “Nothing for nothing, ye know.”“We shall give you all that we have to bestow,” replied one of the monks. “Won’t that suffice?”“What is that?” asked the ferryman.“Nothing,” said the monk who had answered him first.“But our blessing,” interposed the second monk.“Blessing! bah! That won’t do. I can’t eat blessings!” responded the grumbling ferryman.“Heaven will pay you,” said the third monk.“That won’t do either,” answered the enraged ferryman. “I’ll put back again to Andernach!”“Be it so,” said the monks.The ferryman put about the head of his boat, and began to row back towards Andernach, as he had threatened. He had, however, scarcely made three strokes of his oars, when a high wind sprang up and the waters began to rise and rage and foam, like the billows of a storm-vexed sea. Soon a hurricane of the most fearful kind followed, and swept over the chafing face of the stream. In his forty years’ experience of the river, the ferryman had never before beheld such a tempest—so dreadful and so sudden. He gave himself up for lost, threw down his oars, and flung himself on his knees, praying to Heaven for mercy. At that moment two of the dark-robed monks seized the oars which he had abandoned, while the third wrenched one of the thwarts of the boat from its place in the centre. All three then began to belabour the wretched man with all their might and main, until at length he lay senseless and without motion at the bottom of the boat. The barque, which was now veered about, bore them rapidly towards their original destination. The only words that passed on the occasion were an exclamation of the first monk who struck the ferryman down.“Steer your boat aright, friend,” he cried, “if you value your life, and leave off your prating. What have you to do with Heaven, or Heaven with you?”When the poor ferryman recovered his senses, day had long dawned, and he was lying alone at the bottom of his boat. He found that he had drifted below Hammerstein, close to the shore of the right bank of the river. He could discover no trace of his companions. With much difficulty he rowed up the river, and reached the shore.He learned afterwards from a gossiping neighbour, that, as the man returned from Neuwied late that night, or rather early the next morning, he met, just emerging from the Devil’s House, a large black chariot running on three huge wheels, drawn by four horses without heads. In that vehicle he saw six monks seated vis-à-vis, apparently enjoying their morning ride. The driver, a curious-looking carl, with a singularly long nose, took, he said, the road along the edge of the river, and continued lashing his three coal-black, headless steeds at a tremendous rate, until a sharp turn hid them from the man’s view.
Mounted upon Grani, his proud horse, Sigurd rode to the Hall and showed himself to Alv, the King, and to Hiordis, his mother. Before the Hall he shouted out the Volsung name, and King Alv felt as he watched him that this youth was a match for a score of men, and Hiordis, his mother, saw the blue flame of his eyes and thought to herself that his way through the world would be as the way of the eagle through the air.Having shown himself before the Hall, Sigurd dismounted from Grani, and stroked and caressed him with his hands and told him that now he might go back and take pasture with the herd. The proud horse breathed fondly over Sigurd and bounded away.Then Sigurd strode on until he came to the hut in the forest where he worked with the cunning smith Regin. No one was in the hut when he entered. But over the anvil, in the smoke of the smithy fire, there was a work of Regin’s hands. Sigurd looked upon it, and a hatred for the thing that was shown rose up in him.The work of Regin’s hands was a shield, a great shield of iron. Hammered out on that shield and colored with red and brown colors was the image of a Dragon, a Dragon lengthening himself out of a cave. Sigurd thought it was the image of the most hateful thing in the world, and the light of the smithy fire falling on it, and the smoke of the smithy fire rising round it, made it seem verily a Dragon living in his own element of fire and reek.While he was still gazing on the loathly image, Regin, the cunning smith, came into the smithy. He stood by the wall and he watched Sigurd. His back was bent; his hair fell over his eyes that were all fiery, and he looked like a beast that runs behind the hedges.“Aye, thou dost look on Fafnir the Dragon, son of the Volsungs,” he said to Sigurd. “Mayhap it is thou who wilt slay him.”“I would not strive with such a beast. He is all horrible to me,” Sigurd said.“With a good sword thou mightst slay him and win for thyself more renown than ever thy fathers had,” Regin whispered.“I shall win renown as my fathers won renown, in battle with men and in conquest of kingdoms,” Sigurd said.“Thou art not a true Volsung or thou wouldst gladly go where most danger and dread is,” said Regin. “Thou hast heard of Fafnir the Dragon, whose image I have wrought here. If thou dost ride to the crest of the hills thou mayst look across to the desolate land where Fafnir has his haunt. Know that once it was fair land where men had peace and prosperity, but Fafnir came and made his den in a cave near by, and his breathings as he went to and came from the River withered up the land and made it the barren waste that men called Gnita Heath. Now, if thou art a true Volsung, thou wilt slay the Dragon, and let that land become fair again, and bring the people back to it and so add to King Alv’s domain.”“I have nought to do with the slaying of Dragons,” Sigurd said. “I have to make war on King Lygni, and avenge upon him the slaying of Sigmund, my father.”“What is the slaying of Lygni and the conquest of his kingdom to the slaying of Fafnir the Dragon?” Regin cried. “I will tell thee what no one else knows of Fafnir the Dragon. He guards a hoard of gold and jewels the like of which was never seen in the world. All this hoard you can make yours by slaying him.”“I do not covet riches,” Sigurd said.“No riches is like to the riches that Fafnir guards. His hoard is the hoard that the Dwarf Andvari had from the world’s early days. Once the Gods themselves paid it over as a ransom. And if thou wilt win this hoard thou wilt be as one of the Gods.”“How dost thou know that of which thou speakst, Regin?” Sigurd said.“I know, and one day I may tell thee how I know.”“And one day I may harken to thee. But speak to me no more of this Dragon. I would have thee make a sword, a sword that will be mightier and better shapen than any sword in the world. Thou canst do this, Regin, for thou art accounted the best swordsmith amongst men.”Regin looked at Sigurd out of his small and cunning eyes and he thought it was best to make himself active. So he took the weightiest pieces of iron and put them into his furnace and he brought out the secret tools that he used when a masterwork was claimed from his hands.All day Sigurd worked beside him keeping the fire at its best glow and bringing water to cool the blade as it was fashioned and refashioned. And as he worked he thought only about the blade and about how he would make war upon King Lygni, and avenge the man who was slain before he himself was born.All day he thought only of war and of the beaten blade. But at night his dreams were not upon wars nor shapen blades but upon Fafnir the Dragon. He saw the heath that was left barren by his breath, and he saw the cave where he had his den, and he saw him crawling down from his cave, his scales glittering like rings of mail, and his length the length of a company of men on the march.The next day he worked with Regin to shape the great sword. When it was shapen with all the cunning Regin knew it looked indeed a mighty sword. Then Regin sharpened it and Sigurd polished it. And at last he held the great sword by its iron hilt.Then Sigurd took the shield that had the image of Fafnir the Dragon upon it and he put the shield over the anvil of the smithy. Raising the great sword in both his hands he struck full on the iron shield.The stroke of the sword sheared away some of the shield, but the blade broke in Sigurd’s hands. Then in anger he turned on Regin, crying out, “Thou hast made a knave’s sword for me. To work with thee again! Thou must make me a Volsung’s sword.”Then he went out and called to Grani, his horse, and mounted him and rode to the river bank like the sweep of the wind.Regin took more pieces of iron and began to forge a new sword, uttering as he worked runes that were about the hoard that Fafnir the Dragon guarded. And Sigurd that night dreamt of glittering treasure that he coveted not, masses of gold and heaps of glistening jewels.He was Regin’s help the next day and they both worked to make a sword that would be mightier than the first. For three days they worked upon it, and then Regin put into Sigurd’s hands a sword, sharpened and polished, that was mightier and more splendid looking than the one that had been forged before. And again Sigurd took the shield that had the image of the Dragon upon it and he put it upon the anvil. Then he raised his arms and struck his full blow. The sword cut through the shield, but when it struck the anvil it shivered in his hands.He left the smithy angrily and called to Grani, his proud horse. He mounted and rode on like the sweep of the wind.Later he came to his mother’s bower and stood before Hiordis. “A greater sword must I have,” said he, “than one that is made of metal dug out of the earth. The time has come, mother, when thou must put into my hands the broken pieces of Gram, the sword of Sigmund and the Volsungs.”Hiordis measured him with the glance of her eyes, and she saw that her son was a mighty youth and one fit to use the sword of Sigmund and the Volsungs. She bade him go with her to the King’s Hall. Out of the great stone chest that was in her chamber she took the beast’s skin and the broken blade that was wrapped in it. She gave the pieces into the hands of her son. “Behold the halves of Gram,” she said, “of Gram, the mighty sword that in the far-off days Odin left in the Branstock, in the tree of the house of Volsung. I would see Gram new-shapen in thy hands, my son.”Then she embraced him as she had never embraced him before, and standing there with her ruddy hair about her she told him of the glory of Gram and of the deeds of his fathers in whose hands the sword had shone.Then Sigurd went to the smithy, and he wakened Regin out of his sleep, and he made him look on the shining halves of Sigmund’s sword. He commanded him to make out of these halves a sword for his hand.Regin worked for days in his smithy and Sigurd never left his side. At last the blade was forged, and when Sigurd held it in his hand fire ran along the edge of it.Again he laid the shield that had the image of the Dragon upon it on the anvil of the smithy. Again, with his hands on its iron hilt, he raised the sword for a full stroke. He struck, and the sword cut through the shield and sheared through the anvil, cutting away its iron horn. Then did Sigurd know that he had in his hands the Volsungs’ sword. He went without and called to Grani, and like the sweep of the wind rode down to the River’s bank. Shreds of wool were floating down the water. Sigurd struck at them with his sword, and the fine wool was divided against the water’s edge. Hardness and fineness, Gram could cut through both.That night Gram, the Volsungs’ sword, was under his head when he slept, but still his dreams were filled with images that he had not regarded in the day time; the shine of a hoard that he coveted not, and the gleam of the scales of a Dragon that was too loathly for him to battle with.
A Stag once asked a Sheep to lend him a measure of wheat, saying that his friend the Wolf would be his surety. The Sheep, however, was afraid that they meant to cheat her; so she excused herself, saying, “The Wolf is in the habit of seizing what he wants and running off with it without paying, and you, too, can run much faster than I. So how shall I be able to come up with either of you when the debt falls due?”Two blacks do not make a white.
At the time when Allah had many servants and mankind much sorrow, there was a poor woman who had three sons and a daughter. The youngest son was somewhat simple and lay all day by the fireside.One day the two elder sons went into the fields to work, and before leaving requested their mother to cook them something to eat and send it to them by their sister. In the neighbourhood a Dew with three heads had erected his dwelling, and the brothers instructed their sister which way to take in order to avoid him.When the dinner was ready the maiden set out to take it to her brothers, but she mistook her way and strayed into the path leading to the Dew’s house. She had walked but a few steps when the wife of the three-headed Dew stood before her and asked her how she came there. She chatted with the trembling girl until she had enticed her into the house, promising to hide her from her husband.But the Dew with the three heads was there waiting for the maiden. As she entered the woman said that she would soon have a meal ready. “I will knead the dough,” she said, “but you, my daughter, must make the fire.” Scarcely had the girl begun to build up the fire than the Dew stole in, opened his mouth, and swallowed her just as she was.In the meantime the men were expecting their dinner; they waited and waited, but neither girl nor dinner were forthcoming. Evening fell, and when the two brothers, arriving home, learnt that their sister had set out in the fore noon, they suspected what had befallen her. She must have strayed into the Dew’s locality. The eldest brother, after a little reflection, resolved to go to the Dew and demand the girl.Walking along, smoking his chibouque and smelling the flowers, he came to a baking-oven by the roadside. By the oven stood a grey-bearded man, who asked him where he was going. The brother told him of the misfortune which he feared had overtaken his sister, and added that he was seeking the Dew with the three heads, in order to kill him.“You cannot kill the Dew,” rejoined the old man, “until you have eaten of the bread baking in this oven.” The youth thought that would be no great feat. Taking a loaf out of the oven, he bit it, then commenced to run until he had left man, oven, and bread far behind.Stopping to take breath, he saw a man carrying a vessel filled with wine. To this man the brother spoke of his business with the Dew, “You can do nothing to the Dew,” said the man, “until you have drunk some of this wine.” The youth accordingly attempted to drink, but crying, “Oh, my stomach! Oh, my stomach!” he ran from the spot and never paused until he reached two bridges. One bridge was of wood, the other of iron; on the opposite side thereof stood two apple-trees, one bearing sour, the other sweet apples.HE Dew with the three faces was waiting on the road to see which bridge the youth would choose, the wooden or the iron one; which apples he would eat, the sweet or the sour. Fearing the wooden bridge might break down, the youth crossed by the iron one; as the sour apples were not ripe, he plucked the sweet ones. The Dew had now learnt enough. He sent his wife to meet the youth, and she enticed him into the house. Very shortly he found himself in the Dew’s stomach beside his sister.Now the second son set out in quest of his brother and sister. He also could not eat the bread, and the wine gave him stomachache. He also crossed over the iron bridge, ate the sweet apples, and arrived eventually in the Dew’s stomach.We will now turn our attention to the youngest son. The mother observing the simpleton get up from the fireside, begged him not to forsake her in her old age. The others had done so, but he at least should remain with her. But the youth would not listen. “No,” said he, “till my sister and my brothers are rescued, and the Dew killed, I cannot rest.”Rising from his corner, he shook the ashes from him, and at that moment such a storm arose that all the farmhands ran home, leaving their ploughshares in the fields. The simpleton collected all these shares together and took them to a blacksmith, requesting him to make of them a spear which, when thrown into the air, should fall on his finger without breaking. When the smith had made the spear, the youth threw it up in the air, and as it fell back on his little finger, it broke in fragments.Again the simpleton shook the ashes from him and another storm arose which sent all the field labourers hurrying home. Again he collected the ploughshares and took them to the smith. The second spear was made, but this also was shattered at the trial. For the third time the youth raised a storm, after which he collected all the remaining plough shares and had them made into a spear. This time it did not break when it fell back on his finger. “That will do,” said the simpleton, and went his way.Before long he arrived at the baking-oven. The baker greeted him, and learning that he was on his way to kill the Dew, informed him that he could accomplish his purpose only after eating the bread, and drinking wine out of the vessel that he would find farther on. The simpleton accepted his task, ate up all the bread, drank all the wine, and as he journeyed further he came to the wooden and iron bridges, with the apple-trees beside them.The Dew was watching anxiously, and his courage sank when he saw the youth’s actions. “Any child of man can go over the iron bridge,” thought the simpleton to himself, and so he chose the wooden one. “There is also no art in eating sweet apples,” he said, and chose those that were sour. “With this fellow we must deal in a different manner,” called the affrighted Dew to his wife. “Get ready my spear; we must fight it out”The simpleton had already seen the Dew afar off; he walked directly up to him and greeted him civilly. “If thou hadst not greeted me,” said the Dew, “I should have swallowed thee.” “And for my part,” retorted the youth, “I should have killed thee with a spear-thrust hadst thou not returned my greeting.”“If thou art so valiant,” said the Dew with the three heads, “have at thee with the spear!”The Dew, taking his spear in hand, threw it with all his might at the youth, who caught it on his little finger, where it was shattered to pieces. “Now it is my turn,” said the simpleton. He threw his spear with such force that, as it struck the Dew, the latter’s spirit departed through his nose. “Strike once more, if thou art a good fellow,” gasped the Dew; but as the youth answered “Never! ” the Dew breathed his last. Now the youth sought the Dew’s wife. When they opened the body of the wizard, the two brothers and their sister came out. With the simpleton they now wended their way homeward.While in the stomach of the Dew the brothers and sister had become very thirsty; coming to a well they requested their younger brother’s help in procuring water to drink. All took off their girdles, fastened them together, and let the eldest down the well. He was scarcely half, way down when he began to bellow with fear: “Oh, draw me up, I am burning!”He was pulled up immediately, and the second brother next essayed the task, but the same thing happened also with him.“Now it is my turn,” said the simpleton, “but mind you do not draw me up however much I may beg you to do so.” So they let him down, and though they heard his cries of fear they took no heed, but lowered him to the bottom of the well. Here he found a room, and entering, he beheld three maidens, beautiful as the full moon. They were very much alarmed at sight of the youth, and implored him with tears to leave the Dew’s cave, but he would not listen.To be brief he killed the Dew and delivered the three maidens, whom the wizard had robbed from their father, the Sultan, seven years before. The simpleton intended to give the two eldest in marriage to his brothers and wed the youngest himself. Having filled his jug with water he led the maidens to where the rope still hung. The eldest was the first to be drawn up, and the eldest brother took her under his care, as his youngest brother requested; then ascended the second, who was to be protected by the second brother; lastly, the third maiden was helped up. She advised the youth to ascend first and allow her to follow him. “Thy brothers will be angry that thou hast chosen the most beautiful maiden for thyself,” she said, “and from envy they will not draw thee out of the well.”“Then will I find my own way out,” answered the youth.Seeing that she could not persuade him, she took a box and gave it to him, saying: “When thou art in danger, open this box. If thou strikest the flint it contains, an Arab will appear and execute all thy commands. If thy brothers should abandon thee here in the well, go to the Dew’s palace and stand by the pond there. Two sheep come daily, a black one and a white one; if thou shouldst seize the skin of the white one, thou wouldst be conveyed to the surface of the earth; but if thou shouldst seize that of the black sheep, thou wouldst go down into the under ground regions.”On this she was drawn up to the top of the well. Hardly had the brothers set eyes on her than they both fell in love with her, and as she had foretold, they left the simpleton down the well.What was he to do now? He went back to the palace, stood by the pond, and awaited the coming of the sheep. Presently a white and a black sheep sprang in. The youth seized the black one instead of the white, and in a trice found himself in the underground country. “I will take a stroll about this territory,” he thought to himself, and began to walk on.He walked day and night, up hill and down dale, till, unable to go farther, he stopped to rest by a tall tree. His eyes beheld a long snake creeping up the tree. The creature would have swallowed a nest of young birds if the youth had not rescued them just in time.Grasping his spear firmly in his hand, he severed the snake in two, Then he stretched himself out under the tree, where, overcome by fatigue and the great heat, he fell sound asleep.Meanwhile came the little birds’ mother, who was the emerald anka, queen of the Peris. Seeing the sleeping youth, she mistook him for the enemy that year by year killed her children, and would have torn him to pieces had not the little birds cried to her to do him no harm. They told her how he had killed their enemy the snake, and looking round, the anka saw the severed body of the reptile.She flicked the flies from the sleeper, and spread her wings to shield him from the sun, so that when he awoke he saw the bird’s wings over him like a tent. The anka told him she wished to reward him for his generous deed, and inquired what he would like. “Transport me to the surface of the earth,” was his answer.“I will take you up,” said the emerald-bird, “if you have forty hundredweight of mutton and forty bottles of water. Put them on my back and then get up yourself. When I say ‘Gik!’ feed me, and when I say ‘Gak!’ give me drink.”The youth thought of the box. He opened it, took out the flint and struck it. “What is thy command, my sultan?” exclaimed the Arab of the monstrous lips, who instantly appeared. “Forty hundredweight of mutton and forty bottles of water.” In a few minutes the meat and the water were on the bird’s back; the youth also mounted, and when the anka cried “Gik!” he gave her meat and when she cried “Gak!” he gave her drink. She flew from one plane of the earth to the other, and ere long reached the surface, where the youth alighted. The bird promised to wait until he returned.The youth now took out the box and commanded the Arab to bring him news of the three sisters. In a short time the Arab brought the maidens themselves. They all mounted on the bird’s back, loaded her with meat and water, and flew away to the native land of the three maidens,“Gik!” cried the anka, and they gave her meat; “Gak!” and they gave her water. But as there were now four human beings to be fed also, there was not sufficient meat to last throughout the journey and there was no more wherewith to supply the bird. When the anka cried “Gik!” the youth took his sword, cut a piece from his leg and stuck it in the bird’s beak. The anka, perceiving it was the flesh of a mortal, ate it not, but held it fast in her beak. When they reached the land of the three sisters, she told him that it was impossible for her to go farther.His leg was so painful that the youth could not walk a step. “Go,” said he to the bird, “I will rest here a little.”“Oh, you foolish youth!” answered the emerald-bird, and taking the flesh from her beak she pressed it into its place. Instantly the leg was healed.Great was the astonishment in the town at the homecoming of the Sultan’s daughters. The old Padishah could scarce believe his eyes. He embraced and kissed them, heard their story, and gave his kingdom as well as his youngest daughter to the simpleton.The youth invited his mother and sister to the wedding, and his sister was given in marriage to the son of the Vezir. The rejoicings lasted forty days and forty nights, but happiness until the end of their days.
An Indian girl gathering berries on the side of Mount Katahdin looked up at its peak, rosy in the afternoon light, and sighed, “I wish that I had a husband. If Katahdin were a man he might marry me.” Her companions laughed at this quaint conceit, and,filled with confusion at being overheard, she climbed higher up the slope and was lost to sight. For three years her tribe lost sight of her; then she came back with a child in her arms, a beautiful boy with brows of stone. The boy had wonderful power: he had only to point at a moose or a duck or a bear, and it fell dead, so that the tribe never wanted food. For he was the son of the Indian girl and the spirit of the mountain, who had commanded her not to reveal the boy’s paternity.Through years she held silence on this point, holding in contempt, like other Indians, the prying inquiries of gossips and the teasing of young people, and knowing that Katahdin had designed the child for the founder of a mighty race, with the sinews of the very mountains in its frame, that should fill and rule the earth. Yet, one day, in anger at some slight, the mother spoke: “Fools! Wasps who sting the fingers that pick you from the water! Why do you torment me about what you might all see? Look at the boy’s face—his brows: in them do you not see Katahdin? Now you have brought the curse upon yourselves, for you shall hunt your own venison from this time forth.” Leading the child by the hand she turned toward the mountain and went out from their sight. And since then the Indians who could not hold their tongues, and who might otherwise have been great, have dwindled to a little people.
A poor man had so many children that he had already asked every one in the world to be godfather, and when still another child was born, no one else was left whom he could invite. He knew not what to do, and, in his perplexity, he lay down and fell asleep. Then he dreamt that he was to go outside the gate, and ask the first person who met him to be godfather. When he awoke, he determined to obey his dream, and went outside the gate, and asked the first person who came up to him to be god- father. The stranger presented him with a little glass of water, and said, “This is a wonderful water, with it thou canst heal the sick, only thou must see where Death is standing. If he is standing by the patient’s head, give the patient some of the water and he will be healed, but if Death is standing by his feet, all trouble will be in vain, for the sick man must die.” From this time forth, the man could always say whether a patient could be saved or not, and became famous for his skill, and earned a great deal of money. Once he was called in to the child of the King, and when he entered, he saw Death standing by the child’s head and cured it with the water, and he did the same a second time, but the third time Death was standing by its feet, and then he knew the child was forced to die.Once the man thought he would visit the godfather, and tell him how he had succeeded with the water. But when he entered the house, it was such a strange establishment! On the first flight of stairs, the broom and shovel were disputing, and knocking each other about violently. He asked them, “Where does the godfather live?”The broom replied, “One flight of stairs higher up.” When he came to the second flight, he saw a heap of dead fingers lying. He asked, “Where does the godfather live?” One of the fingers replied, “One flight of stairs higher.” On the third flight lay a heap of dead heads, which again directed him to a flight beyond. On the fourth flight, he saw fishes on the fire, which frizzled in the pans and baked themselves. They, too, said, “One flight of stairs higher.” And when he had ascended the fifth, he came to the door of a room and peeped through the keyhole, and there he saw the godfather who had a pair of long horns. When he opened the door and went in, the godfather got into bed in a great hurry and covered himself up. Then said the man, “Sir godfather, what a strange household you have! When I came to your first flight of stairs, the shovel and broom were quarrelling, and beating each other violently.”“How stupid you are!” said the godfather. “That was the boy and the maid talking to each other.” “But on the second flight I saw dead fingers lying.” “Oh, how silly you are! Those were some roots of scorzonera.” (a plant)“On the third flight lay a heap of dead men’s heads.” “Foolish man, those were cabbages.” “On the fourth flight, I saw fishes in a pan, which were hissing and baking themselves.” When he had said that, the fishes came and served themselves up. “And when I got to the fifth flight, I peeped through the keyhole of a door, and there, godfather, I saw you, and you had long, long horns.” “Oh, that is a lie!” The man became alarmed, and ran out, and if he had not, who knows what the godfather would have done to him.
The pleasant valley of Dalton, in the Berkshire Hills, had been under the rule of Miacomo for forty years when a Mohawk dignitary of fifty scalps and fifty winters came a-wooing his daughter Wahconah. On a June day in 1637, as the girl sat beside the cascade that bears her name, twining flowers in her hair and watching leaves float down the stream, she became conscious of a pair of eyes bent on her from a neighboring coppice, and arose in some alarm. Finding himself discovered, the owner of the eyes, a handsome young fellow, stepped forward with a quieting air of friendliness, and exclaimed, “Hail, Bright Star!”“Hail, brother,” answered Wahconah.“I am Nessacus,” said the man, “one of King Philip’s soldiers. Nessacus is tired with his flight from the Long Knives (the English), and his people faint. Will Bright Star’s people shut their lodges against him and his friends?”The maiden answered, “My father is absent, in council with the Mohawks, but his wigwams are always open. Follow.”Nessacus gave a signal, and forth from the wood came a sad-eyed, battle-worn troop that mustered about him. Under the girl’s lead they went down to the valley and were hospitably housed. Five days later Miacomo returned, with him the elderly Mohawk lover, and a priest, Tashmu, of repute a cringing schemer, with whom hunters and soldiers could have nothing in common, and whom they would gladly have put out of the way had they not been deterred by superstitious fears. The strangers were welcomed, though Tashmu looked at them gloomily, and there were games in their honor, Nessacus usually proving the winner, to Wahconah’s joy, for she and the young warrior had fallen in love at first sight, and it was not long before he asked her father for her hand. Miacomo favored the suit, but the priest advised him, for politic reasons, to give the girl to the old Mohawk, and thereby cement a tribal friendship that in those days of English aggression might be needful. The Mohawk had three wives already, but he was determined to add Wahconah to his collection, and he did his best, with threats and flattery, to enforce his suit. Nessacus offered to decide the matter in a duel with his rival, and the challenge was accepted, but the wily Tashmu discovered in voices of wind and thunder, flight of birds and shape of clouds, such omens that the scared Indians unanimously forbade a resort to arms. “Let the Great Spirit speak,” cried Tashmu, and all yielded their consent.Invoking a ban on any who should follow, Tashmu proclaimed that he would pass that night in Wizard’s Glen, where, by invocations, he would learn the divine will. At sunset he stalked forth, but he had not gone far ere the Mohawk joined him, and the twain proceeded to Wahconah Falls. There was no time for magical hocus-pocus that night, for both of them toiled sorely in deepening a portion of the stream bed, so that the current ran more swiftly and freely on that side, and in the morning Tashmu announced in what way the Great Spirit would show his choice. Assembling the tribe on the river-bank, below a rock that midway split the current, a canoe, with symbols painted on it, was set afloat near the falls. If it passed the dividing rock on the side where Nessacus waited, he should have Wahconah. If it swerved to the opposite shore, where the Mohawk and his counsellor stood, the Great Spirit had chosen the old chief for her husband. Of course, the Mohawk stood on the deeper side. On came the little boat, keeping the centre of the stream. It struck the rock, and all looked eagerly, though Tashmu and the Mohawk could hardly suppress an exultant smile. A little wave struck the canoe: it pivoted against the rock and drifted to the feet of Nessacus. A look of blank amazement came over the faces of the defeated wooer and his friend, while a shout of gladness went up, that the Great Spirit had decided so well. The young couple were wed with rejoicings; the Mohawk trudged homeward, and, to the general satisfaction, Tashmu disappeared with him. Later, when Tashmu was identified as the one who had guided Major Talcott’s soldiers to the valley, the priest was caught and slain by Miacomo’s men.
Far away in the land of India, far away towards the East, at the end of the world, stood the Tree of the Sun, a noble tree, such as we have never seen, and shall probably never see. The crown stretched out several miles around: it was really an entire wood; each of its smallest branches formed, in its turn, a whole tree. Palms, beech trees, pines, plane trees, and various other kinds grew here, which are found scattered in all other parts of the world: they shot out like small branches from the great boughs, and these large boughs with their windings and knots formed, as it were, valleys and hills, clothed with velvety green, and covered with flowers. Everything was like a wide, blooming meadow, or like the most charming garden. Here the birds from all quarters of the world assembled together—birds from the primeval forests of America, the rose gardens of Damascus, from the deserts of Africa, in which the elephant and the lion boast of being the only rulers. The Polar birds came flying hither, and of course the stork and the swallow were not absent; but the birds were not the only living beings: the stag, the squirrel, the antelope, and a hundred other beautiful and light-footed animals were here at home. The crown of the tree was a widespread fragrant garden, and in the midst of it, where the great boughs raised themselves into a green hill, there stood a castle of crystal, with a view towards every quarter of heaven. Each tower was reared in the form of a lily. Through the stem one could ascend, for within it was a winding-stair; one could step out upon the leaves as upon balconies; and up in the calyx of the flower itself was the most beautiful, sparkling round hall, above which no other roof rose but the blue firmament with sun and stars.Just as much splendour, though in another way, appeared below, in the wide halls of the castle. Here, on the walls, the whole world around was reflected. One saw everything that was done, so that there was no necessity of reading any papers, and indeed papers were not obtainable there. Everything was to be seen in living pictures, if one only wished to see it; for too much is still too much even for the wisest man; and this man dwelt here. His name is very difficult—you will not be able to pronounce it; therefore it may remain unmentioned. He knew everything that a man on earth can know, or can get to know; every invention which had already been or which was yet to be made was known to him; but nothing more, for everything in the world has its limits. The wise King Solomon was only half as wise as he, and yet he was very wise, and governed the powers of nature, and held sway over potent spirits: yes, Death itself was obliged to give him every morning a list of those who were to die during the day. But King Solomon himself was obliged to die too; and this thought it was which often in the deepest manner employed the inquirer, the mighty lord in the castle on the Tree of the Sun. He also, however high he might tower above men in wisdom, must die one day. He knew that, and his children also must fade away like the leaves of the forest, and become dust. He saw the human race fade away like the leaves on the tree; saw new men come to fill their places; but the leaves that fell off never sprouted forth again—they fell to dust, or were transformed into other parts of plants. “What happens to man?” the wise man asked himself, “when the angel of death touches him? What may death be? The body is dissolved—and the soul. Yes, what is the soul? whither doth it go? To eternal life, says the comforting voice of religion; but what is the transition? where does one live, and how? Above, in heaven, says the pious man, thither we go. Thither?” repeated the wise man, and fixed his eyes upon the moon and the stars; “up yonder?” But he saw, from the earthly ball, that above and below were alike changing their position, according as one stood here or there on the rolling globe; and even if he mounted as high as the loftiest mountains of earth rear their heads, to the air which we below call clear and transparent—the pure heaven—a black darkness spread abroad like a cloth, and the sun had a coppery glow, and sent forth no rays, and our earth lay wrapped in an orange-coloured mist. How narrow were the limits of the corporeal eye, and how little the eye of the soul could see!—how little did even the wisest know of that which is the most important to us all!In the most secret chamber of the castle lay the greatest treasure of the earth: the Book of Truth. Leaf for leaf, the wise man read it through: every man may read in this book, but only by fragments. To many an eye the characters seem to tremble, so that the words cannot be put together; on certain pages the writing often seems so pale, so blurred, that only a blank leaf appears. The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read; and the wisest read most. He knew how to unite the sunlight and the moonlight with the light of reason and of hidden powers; and through this stronger light many things came clearly before him from the page. But in the division of the book whose title is “Life after Death” not even one point was to be distinctly seen. Thatpained him. Should he not be able here upon earth to obtain a light by which everything should become clear to him that stood written in the Book of Truth?Like the wise King Solomon, he understood the language of the animals, and could interpret their talk and their songs. But that made him none the wiser. He found out the forces of plants and metals—the forces to be used for the cure of diseases, for delaying death—but none that could destroy death. In all created things that were within his reach he sought the light that should shine upon the certainty of an eternal life; but he found it not. The Book of Truth lay before him with leaves that appeared blank. Christianity showed itself to him in the Bible with words of promise of an eternal life; but he wanted to read it in his book; but here he saw nothing written on the subject.He had five children—four sons, educated as well as the children of the wisest father could be, and a daughter, fair, mild, and clever, but blind; yet this appeared no deprivation to her—her father and brothers were outward eyes to her, and the vividness of her feelings saw for her.Never had the sons gone farther from the castle than the branches of the tree extended, nor had the sister strayed from home. They were happy children in the land of childhood—in the beautiful fragrant Tree of the Sun. Like all children, they were very glad when any history was related to them; and the father told them many things that other children would not have understood; but these were just as clever as most grown-up people are among us. He explained to them what they saw in the pictures of life on the castle walls—the doings of men and the march of events in all the lands of the earth; and often the sons expressed the wish that they could be present at all the great deeds and take part in them; and their father then told them that out in the world it was difficult and toilsome—that the world was not quite what it appeared to them as they looked forth upon it from their beauteous home. He spoke to them of the true, the beautiful, and the good, and told them that these three held together in the world, and that under the pressure they had to endure they became hardened into a precious stone, clearer than the water of the diamond—a jewel whose splendour had value with God, whose brightness outshone everything, and which was the so-called “Stone of the Wise.” He told them how men could attain by investigation to the knowledge of the existence of God, and that through men themselves one could attain to the certainty that such a jewel as the “Stone of the Wise” existed. This narration would have exceeded the perception of other children, but these children understood it, and at length other children, too, will learn to comprehend its meaning.They questioned their father concerning the true, the beautiful, and the good; and he explained it to them, told them many things, and told them also that God, when He made man out of the dust of the earth, gave five kisses to His work—fiery kisses, heart kisses—which we now call the five senses. Through these the true, the beautiful, and the good is seen, perceived, and understood; through these it is valued, protected, and furthered. Five senses have been given corporeally and mentally, inwardly and outwardly, to body and soul.The children reflected deeply upon these things; they meditated upon them by day and by night. Then the eldest of the brothers dreamt a splendid dream. Strangely enough, the second brother had the same dream, and the third, and the fourth brother likewise; all of them dreamt exactly the same thing—namely, that each went out into the world and found the “Stone of the Wise,” which gleamed like a beaming light on his forehead when, in the morning dawn, he rode back on his swift horse over the velvety green meadows of his home into the castle of his father; and the jewel threw such a heavenly light and radiance upon the leaves of the book, that everything was illuminated that stood written concerning the life beyond the grave. But the sister dreamt nothing about going out into the wide world. It never entered her mind. Her world was her father’s house.“I shall ride forth into the wide world,” said the eldest brother. “I must try what life is like there, and go to and fro among men. I will practise only the good and the true; with these I will protect the beautiful. Much shall change for the better when I am there.” Now his thoughts were bold and great, as our thoughts generally are at home, before we have gone forth into the world and have encountered wind and rain, and thorns and thistles.In him and in all his brothers the five senses were highly developed, inwardly and outwardly; but each of them had one sense which in keenness and development surpassed the other four. In the case of the eldest this pre-eminent sense was Sight. This was to do him especial service. He said he had eyes for all time, eyes for all nations, eyes that could look into the depths of the earth, where the treasures lie hidden, and deep into the hearts of men, as though nothing but a pane of glass were placed before them: he could read more than we can see on the cheek that blushes or grows pale, in the eye that droops or smiles. Stags and antelopes escorted him to the boundary of his home towards the west, and there the wild swans received him and flew north-west. He followed them. And now he had gone far out into the world—far from the land of his father, that extended eastward to the end of the earth.But how he opened his eyes in astonishment! Many things were here to be seen; and many things appear very different when a man beholds them with his own eyes, or when he merely sees them in a picture, as the son had done in his father’s house, however faithful the picture way be. At the outset he nearly lost his eyes in astonishment at all the rubbish and all the masquerading stuff put forward to represent the beautiful; but he did not lose them, and soon found full employment for them. He wished to go thoroughly and honestly to work in the understanding of the beautiful, the true, and the good. But how were these represented in the world? He saw that often the garland that belonged to the beautiful was given to the hideous; that the good was often passed by without notice, while mediocrity was applauded when it should have been hissed off. People looked to the dress, and not to the wearer; asked for a name, and not for desert; and went more by reputation than by service. It was the same thing everywhere.“I see I must attack these things vigorously,” he said; and attacked them with vigour accordingly. But while he was looking for the truth, came the Evil One, the father of lies. Gladly would the fiend have plucked out the eyes of this Seer; but that would have been too direct; the devil works in a more cunning way. He let him see and seek the true and the good; but while the young man was contemplating them, the evil spirit blew one mote after another into each of his eyes; and such a proceeding would be hurtful even to the best sight. Then the fiend blew upon the motes, so that they became beams; and the eyes were destroyed, and the Seer stood like a blind man in the wide world, and had no faith in it: he lost his good opinion of it and himself; and when a man gives up the world and himself, all is over with him.“Over!” said the wild swan, who flew across the sea towards the east. “Over!” twittered the swallows, who likewise flew eastward, towards the Tree of the Sun. That was no good news that they carried to the young man’s home.“I fancy the Seer must have fared badly,” said the second brother; “but the Hearer may have better fortune.” For this one possessed the sense of hearing in an eminent degree: he could hear the grass grow, so quick was he to hear.He took a hearty leave of all at home, and rode away, provided with good abilities and good intentions. The swallows escorted him, and he followed the swans; and he stood far from his home in the wide world.But he experienced the fact that one may have too much of a good thing. His hearing was too fine. He not only heard the grass grow, but could hear every man’s heart beat, in sorrow and in joy. The whole world was to him like a great clockmaker’s workshop, wherein all the clocks were going “tick, tick!” and all the turret clocks striking “ding dong!” It was unbearable. For a long time his ears held out, but at last all the noise and screaming became too much, for one man. There came blackguard boys of sixty years old—for years alone don’t make men—and raised a tumult at which the hearer might certainly have laughed, but for the applause which followed, and which echoed through every house and street, and was audible even in the country high road. Falsehood thrust itself forward, and played the master; the bells on the fool’s cap jangled, and declared they were church bells; and the noise became too bad for the Hearer, and he thrust his fingers into his ears; but still he could hear false singing and bad sounds, gossip and idle words, scandal and slander, groaning and moaning without and within. Heaven help us! He thrust his fingers deeper and deeper into his ears, but at last the drums burst. Now he could hear nothing at all of the good, the true, and the beautiful, for his hearing was to have been the bridge by which he crossed. He became silent and suspicious, trusted no one at last, not even himself, and, no longer hoping to find and bring home the costly jewel, he gave it up, and gave himself up; and that was the worst of all. The birds who winged their flight towards the east brought tidings of this, till the news reached the castle in the Tree of the Sun.“I will try now!” said the third brother. “I have a sharp nose!”Now that was not said in very good taste; but it was his way, and one must take him as he was. He had a happy temper, and was a poet, a real poet: he could sing many things that he could not say, and many things struck him far earlier than they occurred to others. “I can smell fire!” he said; and he attributed to the sense of smelling, which he possessed in a high degree, a great power in the region of the beautiful. “Every fragrant spot in the realm of the beautiful has its frequenters,” he said. “One man feels at home in the atmosphere of the tavern, among the flaring tallow candles, where the smell of spirits mingles with the fumes of bad tobacco. Another prefers sitting among the overpowering scent of jessamine, or scenting himself with strong clove oil. This man seeks out the fresh sea breeze, while that one climbs to the highest mountain top and looks down upon the busy little life beneath.” Thus he spake. It seemed to him as if he had already been out in the world, as if he had already associated with men and known them. But this experience arose from within himself: it was the poet within him, the gift of Heaven, and bestowed on him in his cradle.He bade farewell to his paternal roof in the Tree of the Sun, and departed on foot through the pleasant scenery of home. Arrived at its confines, he mounted on the back of an ostrich, which runs faster than a horse; and afterwards, when he fell in with the wild swans, he swung himself on the strongest of them, for he loved change; and away he flew over the sea to distant lands with great forests, deep lakes, mighty mountains, and proud cities; and wherever he came it seemed as if sunshine travelled with him across the fields, for every flower, every bush, every tree exhaled a new fragrance, in the consciousness that a friend and protector was in the neighbourhood, who understood them and knew their value. The crippled rose bush reared up its twigs, unfolded its leaves, and bore the most beautiful roses; every one could see it, and even the black damp wood-snail noticed its beauty.“I will give my seal to the flower,” said the Snail; “I have spit at it, and I can do no more for it.”“Thus it always fares with the beautiful in this world!” said the poet; and he sang a song concerning it, sang it in his own way; but nobody listened. Then he gave the drummer twopence and a peacock’s feather, and set the song for the drum, and had it drummed in all the streets of the town; and the people heard it, and said, “That’s a well-constructed song.” Then the poet sang several songs of the beautiful, the true, and the good. His songs were listened to in the tavern, where the tallow candles smoked, in the fresh meadow, in the forest, and on the high seas. It appeared as if this brother was to have better fortune than the two others. But the evil spirit was angry at this, and accordingly he set to work with incense powder and incense smoke, which he can prepare so artfully as to confuse an angel, and how much more therefore a poor poet! The Evil One knows how to take that kind of people! He surrounded the poet so completely with incense, that the man lost his head, and forgot his mission and his home, and at last himself—and ended in smoke.But when the little birds heard of this they mourned, and for three days they sang not one song. The black wood-snail became blacker still, not for grief, but for envy. “They should have strewed incense for me,” she said, “for it was I who gave him his idea of the most famous of his songs, the drum song of ‘The Way of the World;’ it was I who spat at the rose! I can bring witness to the fact.”But no tidings of all this penetrated to the poet’s home in India, for all the birds were silent for three days; and when the time of mourning was over, their grief had been so deep that they had forgotten for whom they wept. That’s the usual way!“Now I shall have to go out into the world, to disappear like the rest,” said the fourth brother. He had just as good a wit as the third, but he was no poet, though he could be witty. Those two had filled the castle with cheerfulness, and now the last cheerfulness was going away. Sight and hearing has always been looked upon as the two chief senses of men, and as the two that it is most desirable to sharpen; the other senses are looked upon as of less consequence. But that was not the opinion of this son, as he had especially cultivated his taste in every respect, and taste is very powerful. It holds sway over what goes into the mouth, and also over what penetrates into the mind; and consequently this brother tasted everything that was stored up in bottles and pots, saying that this was the rough work of his office. Every man was to him a vessel in which something was seething, every country an enormous kitchen, a kitchen of the mind.“That was no delicacy,” he said, and he wanted to go out and try what was delicate. “Perhaps fortune may be more favourable to me than it was to my brothers,” he said. “I shall start on my travels. But what conveyance shall I choose? Are air balloons invented yet?” he asked his father, who knew of all inventions that had been made, or that were to be made. But air balloons had not yet been invented, nor steam ships, nor railways. “Good: then I shall choose an air balloon,” he said; “my father knows how they are made and guided. Nobody has invented them yet, and consequently the people will believe that it is an aërial phantom. When I have used the balloon I will burn it, and for this purpose you must give me a few pieces of the invention that will be made next—I mean chemical matches.”And he obtained what he wanted, and flew away. The birds accompanied him farther than they had flown with the other brothers. They were curious to know what would be the result of the flight, and more of them came sweeping up: they thought he was some new bird; and he soon had a goodly following. The air became black with birds, they came on like a cloud—like the cloud of locusts over the land of Egypt.Now he was out in the wide world.The balloon descended over one of the greatest cities, and the aëronaut took up his station on the highest point, on the church steeple. The balloon rose again, which it ought not to have done: where it went to is not known, but that was not a matter of consequence, for it was not yet invented. Then he sat on the church steeple. The birds no longer hovered around him, they had got tired of him, and he was tired of them.All the chimneys in the town were smoking merrily. “Those are altars erected to thy honour!” said the Wind, who wished to say something agreeable to him. He sat boldly up there, and looked down upon the people in the street. There was one stepping along, proud of his purse, another of the key he carried at his girdle, though he had nothing to unlock; one proud of his moth-eaten coat, another of his wasted body. “Vanity! I must hasten downward, dip my finger in the pot, and taste!” he said. “But for awhile I will still sit here, for the wind blows so pleasantly against my back. I’ll sit here so long as the wind blows. I’ll enjoy a slight rest. ‘It is good to sleep long in the morning, when one has much to do,’ says the lazy man. I’ll stop here so long as this wind blows, for it pleases me.”And there he sat, but he was sitting upon the weathercock of the steeple, which kept turning round and round with him, so that he was under the false impression that the same wind still blew; so he might stay up there a goodly while.But in India, in the castle in the Tree of the Sun, it was solitary and still, since the brothers had gone away one after the other.“It goes not well with them,” said the father; “they will never bring the gleaming jewel home; it is not made for me; they are gone, they are dead!” And he bent down over the Book of Truth, and gazed at the page on which he should read of life after death; but for him nothing was to be seen or learned upon it.The blind daughter was his consolation and joy: she attached herself with sincere affection to him; for the sake of his peace and joy she wished the costly jewel might be found and brought home. With kindly longing she thought of her brothers. Where were they? Where did they live? She wished sincerely that she might dream of them, but it was strange, not even in dreams could she approach them. But at length, one night, she dreamt that the voices of her brothers sounded across to her, calling to her from the wide world, and she could not refrain, but went far far out, and yet it seemed in her dream that she was still in her father’s house. She did not meet her brothers, but she felt, as it were, a fire burning in her hand, but it did not hurt her, for it was the jewel she was bringing to her father. When she awoke, she thought for a moment that she still held the stone, but it was the knob of her distaff that she was grasping. During the long nights she had spun incessantly, and round the distaff was turned a thread, finer than the finest web of the spider; human eyes were unable to distinguish the separate threads. She had wetted them with her tears, and the twist was strong as a cable. She rose, and her resolution was taken: the dream must be made a reality. It was night, and her father slept. She pressed a kiss on his hand, and then took her distaff, and fastened the end of the thread to her father’s house. But for this, blind as she was, she would never have found her way home; to the thread she must hold fast, and trust not to herself or to others. From the Tree of the Sun she broke four leaves; these she would confide to wind and weather, that they might fly to her brothers as a letter and a greeting, in case she did not meet them in the wide world. How would she fare out yonder, she, the poor blind child? But she had the invisible thread to which she could hold fast. She possessed a gift which all the others lacked. This was thoroughness; and in virtue of this it seemed as if she could see to the tips of her fingers, and hear down into her very heart.And quietly she went forth into the noisy, whirling, wonderful world, and wherever she went the sky grew bright—she felt the warm ray—the rainbow spread itself out from the dark world through the blue air. She heard the song of the birds, and smelt the scent of orange groves and apple orchards so strongly that she seemed to taste it. Soft tones and charming songs reached her ear, but also howling and roaring, and thoughts and opinions, sounded in strange contradiction to each other. Into the innermost depths of her heart penetrated the echoes of human thoughts and feelings. One chorus sounded darkly—“The life of earth is a shadow vainA night created for sorrow!”but then came another strain—“The life of earth is the scent of the rose,With its sunshine and its pleasure.”And if one strophe sounded painfully—“Each mortal thinks of himself alone,This truth has been manifested”—on the other side the answer pealed forth—“A mighty stream of warmest love,All through the world shall guide us.”She heard, indeed, the words—“In the little petty whirl here below,Each thing shows mean and paltry;”but then came also the comfort—“Many things great and good are achieved,That the ear of man heareth never.”and if sometimes the mocking strain sounded around her—“Join in the common cry: with a jestDestroy the good gifts of the Giver.”in the blind girl’s heart a stronger voice repeated—“To trust in thyself and in God is best;His good will be done for ever.”And whenever she entered the circle of human kind, and appeared among young or old, the knowledge of the true, the good, and the beautiful beamed into their hearts. Whether she entered the study of the artist, or the festive, decorated hall, or the crowded factory, with its whirring wheels, it seemed as though a sunbeam were stealing in—as if the sweet string sounded, the flower exhaled its perfume, and a living dew-drop fell upon the exhausted blood.But the evil spirit could not see this and be content. He has more cunning than ten thousand men, and he found out a way to compass his end. He betook himself to the marsh, collected little bubbles of the stagnant water, and passed over them a sevenfold echo of lying words to give them strength. Then he pounded up paid-for heroic poems and lying epitaphs, as many as he could get, boiled them in tears that envy had shed, put upon them rouge he had scraped from faded cheeks, and of these he composed a maiden, with the aspect and gait of the blessed blind girl, the angel of thoroughness; and then the Evil One’s plot was in full progress. The world knew not which of the two was the true one; and, indeed, how should the world know?“To trust in thyself and in God is best;His good will be done for ever,”sung the blind girl, in full faith. She intrusted the four green leaves from the Tree of the Sun to the winds, as a letter and a greeting to her brothers, and had full confidence that they would reach their destination, and that the jewel would be found which outshines all the glories of the world. From the forehead of humanity it would gleam even to the castle of her father.“Even to my father’s house,” she repeated. “Yes, the place of the jewel is on earth, and I shall bring more than the promise of it with me. I feel its glow, it swells more and more in my closed hand. Every grain of truth, were it ever so fine, which the sharp wind carried up and whirled towards me, I took up and treasured; I let it be penetrated by the fragrance of the beautiful, of which there is so much in the world, even for the blind. I took the sound of the beating heart engaged in what is good, and added it to the first. All that I bring is but dust, but still it is the dust of the jewel we seek, and in plenty. I have my whole hand full of it.” And she stretched forth her hand towards her father. She was soon at home—she had travelled thither in the flight of thoughts, never having quitted her hold of the invisible thread from the paternal home.The evil powers rushed with hurricane fury over the Tree of the Sun, pressed with a wind-blast against the open doors, and into the sanctuary where lay the Book of Truth.“It will be blown away by the wind!” said the father, and he seized the hand she had opened.“No,” she replied, with quiet confidence, “it cannot be blown away; I feel the beam warming my very soul.”And the father became aware of a glancing flame, there where the shining dust poured out of her hand over the Book of Truth, that was to tell of the certainty of an everlasting life, and on it stood one shining word—one only word—”Believe.”We have often seen, where a sunbeam bursts through a crack in the door into the dusty room, how a whirling column of dust seems circling round; but this was not poor and insignificant like common dust, for even the rainbow is dead in colour compared with the beauty which showed itself. Thus, from the leaf of the book with the beaming word “Believe,” arose every grain of truth, decked with the charms of the beautiful and the good, burning brighter than the mighty pillar of flame that led Moses and the children of Israel through the desert; and from the word “Believe” the bridge of Hope arose, spanning the distance, even to the immeasurable love in the realms of the Infinite.
All who dwelt in Asgard, the Æsir and the Asyniur, who were the Gods and the Goddesses, and the Vanir, who were the friends of the Gods and the Goddesses, were wroth with Loki. It was no wonder they were wroth with him, for he had let the Giant Thiassi carry off Iduna and her golden apples. Still, it must be told that the show they made of their wrath made Loki ready to do more mischief in Asgard.One day he saw a chance to do mischief that made his heart rejoice. Sif, the wife of Thor, was lying asleep outside her house. Her beautiful golden hair flowed all round her. Loki knew how much Thor loved that shining hair, and how greatly Sif prized it because of Thor’s love. Here was his chance to do a great mischief. Smilingly, he took out his shears and he cut off the shining hair, every strand and every tress. She did not waken while her treasure was being taken from her. But Loki left Sif’s head cropped and bare.Thor was away from Asgard. Coming back to the City of the Gods, he went into his house. Sif, his wife, was not there to welcome him. He called to Sif, but no glad answer came from her. To the palaces of all the Gods and Goddesses Thor went, but in none of them did he find Sif, his golden-haired wife.When he was coming back to his house he heard his name whispered. He stopped, and then a figure stole out from behind a stone. A veil covered her head, and Thor scarce knew that this was Sif, his wife. As he went to her she sobbed and sobbed. “O Thor, my husband,” she said, “do not look upon me. I am ashamed that you should see me. I shall go from Asgard and from the company of the Gods and Goddesses, and I shall go down to Svartheim and live amongst the Dwarfs. I cannot bear that any of the Dwellers in Asgard should look upon me now.”“O Sif,” cried Thor, “what has happened to change you?”“I have lost the hair of my head,” said Sif, “I have lost the beautiful golden hair that you, Thor, loved. You will not love me any more, and so I must go away, down to Svartheim and to the company of the Dwarfs. They are as ugly as I am now.”Then she took the veil off her head and Thor saw that all her beautiful hair was gone. She stood before him, shamed and sorrowful, and he grew into a mighty rage. “Who was it did this to you, Sif?” he said. “I am Thor, the strongest of all the Dwellers in Asgard, and I shall see to it that all the powers the Gods possess will be used to get your fairness back. Come with me, Sif.” And taking his wife’s hand in his, Thor went off to the Council House where the Gods and the Goddesses were.Sif covered her head with her veil, for she would not have the Gods and Goddesses look upon her shorn head. But from the anger in Thor’s eyes all saw that the wrong done to Sif was great indeed. Then Thor told of the cutting of her beautiful hair. A whisper went round the Council House. “It was Loki did this—no one else in Asgard would have done a deed so shameful,” one said to the other.“Loki it was who did it,” said Thor. “He has hidden himself, but I shall find him and I will slay him.”“Nay, not so, Thor,” said Odin, the Father of the Gods. “Nay, no Dweller in Asgard may slay another. I shall summon Loki to come before us here. It is for you to make him (and remember that Loki is cunning and able to do many things) bring back to Sif the beauty of her golden hair.”Then the call of Odin, the call that all in Asgard have to harken to, went through the City of the Gods. Loki heard it, and he had to come from his hiding-place and enter the house where the Gods held their Council. And when he looked on Thor and saw the rage that was in his eyes, and when he looked on Odin and saw the sternness in the face of the Father of the Gods, he knew that he would have to make amends for the shameful wrong he had done to Sif.Said Odin, “There is a thing that you, Loki, have to do: Restore to Sif the beauty of her hair.”Loki looked at Odin, Loki looked at Thor, and he saw that what was said would have to be done. His quick mind searched to find a way of restoring to Sif the beauty of her golden hair.“I shall do as you command, Odin All-Father,” he said.But before we tell you of what Loki did to restore the beauty of Sif’s golden hair, we must tell you of the other beings besides the Gods and the Goddesses who were in the world at the time. First, there was the Vanir. When the Gods who were called the Æsir came to the mountain on which they built Asgard, they found other beings there. These were not wicked and ugly like the Giants; they were beautiful and friendly; the Vanir they were named.Although they were beautiful and friendly the Vanir had no thought of making the world more beautiful or more happy. In that way they differed from the Æsir who had such a thought. The Æsir made peace with them, and they lived together in friendship, and the Vanir came to do things that helped the Æsir to make the world more beautiful and more happy. Freya, whom the Giant wanted to take away with the Sun and the Moon as a reward for the building of the wall round Asgard, was of the Vanir. The other beings of the Vanir were Frey, who was the brother of Freya, and Niörd, who was their father.On the earth below there were other beings—the dainty Elves, who danced and fluttered about, attending to the trees and flowers and grasses. The Vanir were permitted to rule over the Elves. Then below the earth, in caves and hollows, there was another race, the Dwarfs or Gnomes, little, twisted creatures, who were both wicked and ugly, but who were the best craftsmen in the world.In the days when neither the Æsir nor the Vanir were friendly to him Loki used to go down to Svartheim, the Dwarfs’ dwelling below the earth. And now that he was commanded to restore to Sif the beauty of her hair, Loki thought of help he might get from the Dwarfs.Down, down, through the winding passages in the earth he went, and he came at last to where the Dwarfs who were most friendly to him were working in their forges. All the Dwarfs were master-smiths, and when he came upon his friends he found them working hammer and tongs, beating metals into many shapes. He watched them for a while and took note of the things they were making. One was a spear, so well balanced and made that it would hit whatever mark it was thrown at no matter how bad the aim the thrower had. The other was a boat that could sail on any sea, but that could be folded up so that it would go into one’s pocket. The spear was called Gungnir and the boat was called Skidbladnir.Loki made himself very agreeable to the Dwarfs, praising their work and promising them things that only the Dwellers in Asgard could give, things that the Dwarfs longed to possess. He talked to them till the little, ugly folk thought that they would come to own Asgard and all that was in it.At last Loki said to them, “Have you got a bar of fine gold that you can hammer into threads—into threads so fine that they will be like the hair of Sif, Thor’s wife? Only the Dwarfs could make a thing so wonderful. Ah, there is the bar of gold. Hammer it into those fine threads, and the Gods themselves will be jealous of your work.”Flattered by Loki’s speeches, the Dwarfs who were in the forge took up the bar of fine gold and flung it into the fire. Then taking it out and putting it upon their anvil they worked on the bar with their tiny hammers until they beat it into threads that were as fine as the hairs of one’s head. But that was not enough. They had to be as fine as the hairs on Sif’s head, and these were finer than anything else. They worked on the threads, over and over again, until they were as fine as the hairs on Sif’s head. The threads were as bright as sunlight, and when Loki took up the mass of worked gold it flowed from his raised hand down on the ground. It was so fine that it could be put into his palm, and it was so light that a bird might not feel its weight.Then Loki praised the Dwarfs more and more, and he made more and more promises to them. He charmed them all, although they were an unfriendly and a suspicious folk. And before he left them he asked them for the spear and the boat he had seen them make, the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir. The Dwarfs gave him these things, though in a while after they wondered at themselves for giving them.Back to Asgard Loki went. He walked into the Council House where the Dwellers in Asgard were gathered. He met the stern look in Odin’s eyes and the rageful look in Thor’s eyes with smiling good humor. “Off with thy veil, O Sif,” he said. And when poor Sif took off her veil he put upon her shorn head the wonderful mass of gold he held in his palm. Over her shoulders the gold fell, fine, soft, and shining as her own hair. And the Æsir and the Asyniur, the Gods and the Goddesses, and the Van and Vana, when they saw Sif’s head covered again with the shining web, laughed and clapped their hands in gladness. And the shining web held to Sif’s head as if indeed it had roots and was growing there.
There lived formerly in the County of Cumberland a nobleman who had three sons, two of whom were comely and clever youths, but the other a natural fool, named Jack, who was generally engaged with the sheep: he was dressed in a parti-coloured coat, and a steeple-crowned hat with a tassel, as became his condition. Now the King of Canterbury had a beautiful daughter, who was distinguished by her great ingenuity and wit, and he issued a decree that whoever should answer three questions put to him by the princess should have her in marriage, and be heir to the crown at his decease.Shortly after this decree was published, news of it reached the ears of the nobleman’s sons, and the two clever ones determined to have a trial, but they were sadly at a loss to prevent their idiot brother from going with them. They could not, by any means, get rid of him, and were compelled at length to let Jack accompany them. They had not gone far, before Jack shrieked with laughter, saying, “I’ve found an egg.” “Put it in your pocket,” said the brothers. A little while afterwards, he burst out into another fit of laughter on finding a crooked hazel stick, which he also put in his pocket; and a third time he again laughed extravagantly because he found a nut. That also was put with his other treasures.When they arrived at the palace, they were immediately admitted on mentioning the nature of their business, and were ushered into a room where the princess and her suite were sitting. Jack, who never stood on ceremony, bawled out, “What a troop of fair ladies we’ve got here!”“Yes,” said the princess, “we are fair ladies, for we carry fire in our bosoms.”“Do you?” said Jack, “then roast me an egg,” pulling out the egg from his pocket.“How will you get it out again?” said the princess.“With a crooked stick,” replied Jack, producing the hazel.“Where did that come from?” said the princess.“From a nut,” answered Jack, pulling out the nut from his pocket. “I’ve answered the three questions, and now I’ll have the lady.” “No, no,” said the king, “not so fast. You have still an ordeal to go through. You must come here in a week’s time and watch for one whole night with the princess, my daughter. If you can manage to keep awake the whole night long you shall marry her next day.”“But if I can’t?” said Jack.“Then off goes your head,” said the king. “But you need not try unless you like.”Well, Jack went back home for a week, and thought over whether he should try and win the princess. At last he made up his mind. “Well,” said Jack, “I’ll try my vorton; zo now vor the king’s daughter, or a headless shepherd!”And taking his bottle and bag, he trudged to the court. In his way thither, he was obliged to cross a river, and pulling off his shoes and stockings, while he was passing over he observed several pretty fish bobbing against his feet; so he caught some and put them into his pocket. When he reached the palace he knocked at the gate loudly with his crook, and having mentioned the object of his visit, he was immediately conducted to the hall where the king’s daughter sat ready prepared to see her lovers. He was placed in a luxurious chair, and rich wines and spices were set before him, and all sorts of delicate meats. Jack, unused to such fare, ate and drank plentifully, so that he was nearly dozing before midnight.“Oh, shepherd,” said the lady, “I have caught you napping!”“Noa, sweet ally, I was busy a-feeshing.”“A fishing,” said the princess in the utmost astonishment: “Nay, shepherd, there is no fish-pond in the hall.”“No matter vor that, I have been fishing in my pocket, and have just caught one.”“Oh me!” said she, “let me see it.”The shepherd slyly drew the fish out of his pocket and pretending to have caught it, showed it her, and she declared it was the finest she ever saw.About half an hour afterwards, she said, “Shepherd, do you think you could get me one more?”He replied, “Mayhap I may, when I have baited my hook;” and after a little while he brought out another, which was finer than the first, and the princess was so delighted that she gave him leave to go to sleep, and promised to excuse him to her father.In the morning the princess told the king, to his great astonishment, that Jack must not be beheaded, for he had been fishing in the hall all night; but when he heard how Jack had caught such beautiful fish out of his pocket, he asked him to catch one in his own.Jack readily undertook the task, and bidding the king lie down, he pretended to fish in his pocket, having another fish concealed ready in his hand, and giving him a sly prick with a needle, he held up the fish, and showed it to the king.His majesty did not much relish the operation, but he assented to the marvel of it, and the princess and Jack were united the same day, and lived for many years in happiness and prosperity.
Once upon a time there was a King who had no children, and this disappointment preyed so dreadfully upon his mind that he chose the dirtiest and most broken-down old bed he could find, and lay down on it in the beautiful palace gardens. There he lay, amid the flowers and the fruit trees, the butterflies and the birds, quite regardless of the beauties around him;—that was his way of showing grief.Now, as he lay thus, a holy faqîr passed through the garden, and seeing the King in this pitiful plight, asked him what the sorrow was which drove him to such a very dirty old bed.‘What is the use of asking?’ returned the King; but when the faqîr asked for the third time what the sorrow was, the King took heart of grace, and answered gloomily, ‘I have no children!’‘Is that all?’ said the faqîr; ‘that is easily remedied. Here! take this stick of mine, and throw it twice into yonder mango tree. At the first throw five mangoes will fall, at the second two. So many sons you shall have, if you give each of your seven Queens a mango apiece.’Then the King, greatly delighted, took the faqîr’s stick and went off to the mango tree. Sure enough, at the first throw five mangoes fell, at the second, two. Still the King was not satisfied, and, determining to make the most of the opportunity, he threw the stick into the tree a third time, hoping to get more children But, to his surprise and consternation, the stick remained in the tree, and the seven fallen mangoes flew back to their places, where they hung temptingly just out of reach.There was nothing to be done but to go back to the faqîr, and tell him what had happened.‘That comes of being greedy!’ retorted the faqîr; ‘surely seven sons are enough for anybody, and yet you were not content! However, I will give you one more chance. Go back to the tree; you will find the stick upon the ground; throw it as I bade you, and beware of disobedience, for if you do not heed me this time, you may lie on your dirty old bed till doomsday for all I care!’Then the King returned to the mango tree, and when the seven mangoes had fallen—the first time five, the second time two—he carried them straight into the palace, and gave them to his Queens, so as to be out of the way of temptation.Now, as luck would have it, the youngest Queen was not in the house, so the King put her mango away in a tiny cupboard in the wall, against her return, and while it lay there a greedy little mouse came and nibbled away one half of it. Shortly afterwards, the seventh Queen came in, and seeing the other Queens just wiping their mouths, asked them what they had been eating.‘The King gave us each a mango,’ they replied, ‘and he put yours in the cupboard yonder.’But, lo! when the youngest Queen ran in haste to find her mango, half of it was gone; nevertheless she ate the remaining half with great relish.Now the result of this was, that when, some months afterwards, the six elder Queens each bore a son, the youngest Queen had only half-a-son—and that was what they called him at once,—just half-a-son, nothing more: he had one eye, one ear, one arm, one leg; in fact, looked at sideways, he was as handsome a young prince as you would wish to see, but frontways it was as plain as a pikestaff that he was only half-a-prince. Still he throve and grew strong, so that when his brothers went out shooting he begged to be allowed to go out also.‘How can you go a-shooting?’ wept his mother, who did nothing but fret because her son was but half-a-son; ‘you are only half-a-boy; how can you hold your crossbow?’‘Then let me go and play at shooting,’ replied the prince, nothing daunted. ‘Only give me some sweets to take with me, dear mother, as the other boys have, and I shall get on well enough.’‘How can I make sweets for half-a-son?’ wept his mother; ‘go and ask the other Queens to give you some,’So he asked the other Queens, and they, to make fun of the poor lad, who was the butt of the palace, gave him sweets full of ashes.Then the six whole princes, and little Half-a-son, set off a-shooting, and when they grew tired and hungry, they sat down to eat the sweets they had brought with them. Now when Prince Half-a-son put his into his half-a-mouth, lo and behold! though they were sweet enough outside, there was nothing but ashes and grit inside. He was a simple-hearted young prince, and imagining it must be a mistake, he went to his brothers and asked for some of theirs; but they jeered and laughed at him.By and by they came to a field of melons, so carefully fenced in with thorns that only one tiny gap remained in one corner, and that was too small for any one to creep through, except half-a-boy; so while the six whole princes remained outside, little Half-a-son was feasting on the delicious melons inside, and though they begged and prayed him to throw a few over the hedge, he only laughed, saying, ‘Remember the sweets!—it is my turn now!’When they became very importunate, he threw over a few of the unripe and sour melons; whereupon his brothers became so enraged that they ran to the owner of the field and told him that half-a-boy was making sad havoc amongst his fruit. Then they watched him catch poor Prince Half-a-son, who of course could not run very fast, and tie him to a tree, after which they went away laughing.But Prince Half-a-son had some compensation for being only half-a-boy, in that he possessed the magical power of making a rope do anything he bade it. Therefore, when he saw his brothers leaving him in the lurch, he called out, ‘Break, rope, break! my companions have gone on,’ and the rope obeyed at once, leaving him free to join his brothers.By and by they came to a plum tree, where the fruit grew far out on slender branches that would only bear the weight of half-a-boy.‘Throw us down some!’ cried the whole brothers, as they saw Half-a-son with his half-mouth full.‘Remember the sweets!’ retorted the prince.This made his brothers so angry that they ran off to the owner of the tree, and telling him how half-a-boy was feasting on his plums, watched while he caught the offender and tied him to the tree. Then they ran away laughing; but Prince Half-a-son called out, ‘Break, rope, break! my companions have gone on,’ and before they had gone out of sight he rejoined his brothers, who could not understand how this miserable half-a-boy outwitted them.Being determined to be revenged on him, they waited until he began to draw water from a well, where they stopped to drink, and then they pushed him in.‘That is an end of little Half-a-son!’ they said to themselves, and ran away laughing.Now in the well there lived a one-eyed demon, a pigeon, and a serpent, and when it was dark these three returned home and began to talk amongst themselves, while Prince Half-a-son, who clung to the wall like a limpet, and took up no room at all, listened and held his breath.‘What is your power, my friend?’ asked the demon of the serpent. Whereupon the serpent replied, ‘I have the treasures of seven kings underneath me! What is yours, my friend?’Then the demon said conceitedly, ‘The King’s daughter is possessed of me. She is always ill; some day I shall kill her.’‘Ah!’ said the pigeon, ‘I could cure her, for no matter what the disease is, any one who eats my droppings will become well instantly.’When dawn came, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon each went off to his own haunt without noticing Prince Half-a-son.Soon afterwards, a camel-driver came to draw water from the well, and let down the bucket; whereupon Prince Half-a-son caught hold of the rope and held on.The camel-driver, feeling a heavy weight, looked down to see what it was, and when he beheld half-a-boy clinging to the rope he was so frightened that he ran clean away. But all Half-a-son had to do was to say, ‘Pull, rope, pull!’ and the rope wound itself up immediately.No sooner had he reached the surface once more than he set off to the neighbouring city, and proclaimed that he was a physician come to heal the King’s daughter of her dreadful disease.‘Have a care! have a care!’ cried the watchmen at the gate. ‘If you fail, your head will be the forfeit. Many men have tried, and what can you do that are but half-a-man?’Nevertheless, Prince Half-a-son, who had some of the pigeon’s droppings in his pocket, was not in the least afraid, but boldly proclaimed he was ready to accept the terms; that is to say, if he failed to cure the princess his head was to be cut off, but if he succeeded, then her hand in marriage and half the kingdom should be his reward.‘Half the kingdom will just suit me,’ he said,’ seeing that I am but half-a-man!’And, sure enough, no sooner had the princess taken her first dose, than she immediately became quite well—her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes bright; and the King was so delighted that he gave immediate orders for the marriage. Now amongst the wedding guests were Prince Half-a-son’s wicked brothers, who were ready to die of spite and envy when they discovered that the happy bridegroom was none other than their despised half-a-boy. So they went to the King, and said, ‘We know this lad: he is a sweeper’s son, and quite unfit to be the husband of so charming a princess!’The king at first believed this wicked story, and ordered the poor prince to be turned out of the kingdom; but Half-a-son asked for a train of mules, and one day’s respite, in order to prove who and what he was. Then he went to the well, dug up the treasures of seven kings during the serpent’s absence, loaded the mules, and came back glittering with gold and jewels. He laid the treasures at the King’s feet, and told the whole story,—how, through no fault of his own, he was only half-a-son, and how unkindly his brothers had behaved to him.Then the marriage festivities went on, and the wicked brothers crept away in disgrace.They went to the well, full of envy and covetousness. ‘Half-a-son got rich by falling in,’ they said; ‘let us try if we too cannot find some treasure,’ So they threw themselves into the well.As soon as it was dark, the demon, the serpent, and the pigeon came home together. ‘Some thief has been here!’ cried the pigeon, ‘for my droppings are gone! Let us feel round, and see if he is here still.’So they felt round, and when they came upon the six brothers, the demon ate them up one after another.So that was an end of them, and Prince Half-a-son had the best of it, in spite of his only being half-a-boy.
There were once upon a time a King and Queen who had no children, and they took it so much to heart that they hardly ever had a happy moment. One day the King stood in the portico and looked out over the big meadows and all that was his. But he felt he could have no enjoyment out of it all, since he did not know what would become of it after his time. As he stood there pondering, an old beggar woman came up to him and asked him for a trifle in heaven’s name. She greeted him and curtsied, and asked what ailed the King, since he looked so sad.“You can’t do anything to help me, my good woman,” said the King; “it’s no use telling you.”“I am not so sure about that,” said the beggar woman. “Very little is wanted when luck is in the way. The King is thinking that he has no heir to his crown and kingdom, but he need not mourn on that account,” she said. “The Queen shall have three daughters, but great care must be taken that they do not come out under the open heavens before they are all fifteen years old; otherwise a snowdrift will come and carry them away.”When the time came the Queen had a beautiful baby girl; the year after she had another, and the third year she also had a girl.The King and Queen were glad beyond all measure; but although the King was very happy, he did not forget to set a watch at the Palace door, so that the Princesses should not get out.As they grew up they became both fair and beautiful, and all went well with them in every way. Their only sorrow was that they were not allowed to go out and play like other children. For all they begged and prayed their parents, and for all they besought the sentinel, it was of no avail; go out they must not before they were fifteen years old, all of them.So one day, not long before the fifteenth birthday of the youngest Princess, the King and the Queen were out driving, and the Princesses were standing at the window and looking out. The sun was shining, and everything looked so green and beautiful that they felt that they must go out, happen what might. So they begged and entreated and urged the sentinel, all three of them, that he should let them down into the garden. “He could see for himself how warm and pleasant it was; no snowy weather could come on such a day.” Well, he didn’t think it looked much like it either, and if they must go they had better go, the soldier said; but it must only be for a minute, and he himself would go with them and look after them.When they got down into the garden they ran up and down, and filled their laps with flowers and green leaves, the prettiest they could find. At last they could manage no more, but just as they were going indoors they caught sight of a large rose at the other end of the garden. It was many times prettier than any they had gathered, so they must have that also. But just as they bent down to take the rose a big dense snowdrift came and carried them away.There was great mourning over the whole country, and the King made known from all the churches that any one who could save the Princesses should have half the kingdom and his golden crown and whichever princess he liked to choose.You can well understand there were plenty who wanted to gain half the kingdom, and a princess into the bargain; so there were people of both high and low degree who set out for all parts of the country. But there was no one who could find the Princesses, or even get any tidings of them.When all the grand and rich people in the country had had their turn, a captain and a lieutenant came to the Palace, and wanted to try their luck. The King fitted them out both with silver and gold, and wished them success on their journey.Then came a soldier, who lived with his mother in a little cottage some way from the Palace. He had dreamt one night that he also was trying to find the Princesses. When the morning came he still remembered what he had dreamt, and told his mother about it.“Some witchery must have got hold of you,” said the woman, “but you must dream the same thing three nights running, else there is nothing in it.” And the next two nights the same thing happened; he had the same dream, and he felt he must go. So he washed himself and put on his uniform, and went into the kitchen at the Palace. It was the day after the captain and the lieutenant had set out.“You had better go home again,” said the King, “the Princesses are beyond your reach, I should say; and besides, I have spent so much money on outfits that I have nothing left to-day. You had better come back another time.”“If I go, I must go to-day,” said the soldier. “Money I do not want; I only need a drop in my flask and some food in my wallet,” he said; “but it must be a good walletful—as much meat and bacon as I can carry.”Yes, that he might have if that was all he wanted.So he set off, and he had not gone many miles before he overtook the captain and the lieutenant.“Where are you going?” asked the captain, when he saw the man in uniform.“I’m going to try if I can find the Princesses,” answered the soldier.“So are we,” said the captain, “and since your errand is the same, you may keep company with us, for if we don’t find them, you are not likely to find them either, my lad,” said he.When they had gone awhile the soldier left the high road, and took a path into the forest.“Where are you going?” said the captain; “it is best to follow the high road.”“That may be,” said the soldier, “but this is my way.”He kept to the path, and when the others saw this they turned round and followed him. Away they went further and further, far across big moors and along narrow valleys.And at last it became lighter, and when they had got out of the forest altogether they came to a long bridge, which they had to cross. But on that bridge a bear stood on guard. He rose on his hind legs and came towards them, as if he wanted to eat them.“What shall we do now?” said the captain.“They say that the bear is fond of meat,” said the soldier, and then he threw a fore quarter to him, and so they got past. But when they reached the other end of the bridge, they saw a lion, which came roaring towards them with open jaws as if he wanted to swallow them.“I think we had better turn right-about, we shall never be able to get past him alive,” said the captain.“Oh, I don’t think he is so very dangerous,” said the soldier; “I have heard that lions are very fond of bacon, and I have half a pig in my wallet;” and then he threw a ham to the lion, who began eating and gnawing, and thus they got past him also.In the evening they came to a fine big house. Each room was more gorgeous than the other; all was glitter and splendour wherever they looked; but that did not satisfy their hunger. The captain and the lieutenant went round rattling their money, and wanted to buy some food; but they saw no people nor could they find a crumb of anything in the house, so the soldier offered them some food from his wallet, which they were not too proud to accept, nor did they want any pressing. They helped themselves of what he had as if they had never tasted food before.The next day the captain said they would have to go out shooting and try to get something to live upon. Close to the house was a large forest where there were plenty of hares and birds. The lieutenant was to remain at home and cook the remainder of the food in the soldier’s wallet. In the meantime the captain and the soldier shot so much game that they were hardly able to carry it home. When they came to the door they found the lieutenant in such a terrible plight that he was scarcely able to open the door to them.“What is the matter with you?” said the captain. The lieutenant then told them that as soon as they were gone a tiny, little man, with a long beard, who went on crutches, came in and asked so plaintively for a penny; but no sooner had he got it than he let it fall on the floor, and for all he raked and scraped with his crutch he was not able to get hold of it, so stiff and stark was he.“I pitied the poor, old body,” said the lieutenant, “and so I bent down to pick up the penny, but then he was neither stiff nor stark any longer. He began to belabour me with his crutches till very soon I was unable to move a limb.”“You ought to be ashamed of yourself! you, one of the king’s officers, to let an old cripple give you a thrashing, and then tell people of it into the bargain!” said the captain. “Pshaw! to-morrow I’ll stop at home, and then you’ll hear another story.”The next day the lieutenant and the soldier went out shooting and the captain remained at home to do the cooking and look after the house. But if he fared no worse, he certainly fared no better than the lieutenant. In a little while the old man came in and asked for a penny. He let it fall as soon as he got it; gone it was and could not be found. So he asked the captain to help him to find it, and the captain, without giving a thought, bent down to look for it. But no sooner was he on his knees than the cripple began belabouring him with his crutches, and every time the captain tried to rise, he got a blow which sent him reeling. When the others came home in the evening, he still lay on the same spot and could neither see nor speak.The third day the soldier was to remain at home, while the other two went out shooting. The captain said he must take care of himself, “for the old fellow will soon put an end to you, my lad,” said he.“Oh, there can’t be much life in one if such an old crook can take it,” said the soldier.They were no sooner outside the door, than the old man came in and asked for a penny again.“Money I have never owned,” said the soldier, “but food I’ll give you, as soon as it is ready,” said he, “but if we are to get it cooked, you must go and cut the wood.”“That I can’t,” said the old man.“If you can’t, you must learn,” said the soldier. “I will soon show you. Come along with me down to the wood-shed.” There he dragged out a heavy log and cut a cleft in it, and drove in a wedge till the cleft deepened.“Now you must lie down and look right along the cleft, and you’ll soon learn how to cut wood,” said the soldier. “In the meantime I’ll show you how to use the axe.”The old man was not sufficiently cunning, and did as he was told; he lay down and looked steadily along the log. When the soldier saw the old man’s beard had got well into the cleft, he struck out the wedge; the cleft closed and the old man was caught by the beard. The soldier began to beat him with the axe handle, and then swung the axe round his head, and vowed that he would split his skull if he did not tell him, there and then, where the Princesses were.“Spare my life, spare my life, and I’ll tell you!” said the old man. “To the east of the house there is a big mound; on top of the mound you must dig out a square piece of turf, and then you will see a big stone slab. Under that there is a deep hole through which you must let yourself down, and you’ll then come to another world where you will find the Princesses. But the way is long and dark and it goes both through fire and water.”When the soldier got to know this, he released the old man, who was not long in making off.When the captain and lieutenant came home they were surprised to find the soldier alive. He told them what had happened from first to last, where the Princesses were and how they should find them. They became as pleased as if they had already found them, and when they had had some food, they took with them a basket and as much rope as they could find, and all three set off to the mound. There they first dug out the turf just as the old man had told them, and underneath they found a big stone slab, which it took all their strength to turn over. They then began to measure how deep it was; they joined on ropes both two and three times, but they were no nearer the bottom the last time than the first. At last they had to join all the ropes they had, both the coarse and fine, and then they found it reached the bottom.The captain was, of course, the first who wanted to descend; “But when I tug at the rope you must make haste to drag me up again,” he said. He found the way both dark and unpleasant, but he thought he would go on as long as it became no worse. But all at once he felt ice cold water spouting about his ears; he became frightened to death and began tugging at the rope.The lieutenant was the next to try, but it fared no better with him. No sooner had he got through the flood of water than he saw a blazing fire yawning beneath him, which so frightened him that he also turned back.The soldier then got into the bucket, and down he went through fire and water, right on till he came to the bottom, where it was so pitch dark that he could not see his hand before him. He dared not let go the basket, but went round in a circle, feeling and fumbling about him. At last he discovered a gleam of light far, far away like the dawn of day, and he went on in that direction.When he had gone a bit it began to grow light around him, and before long he saw a golden sun rising in the sky and everything around him became as bright and beautiful as if in a fairy world.First he came to some cattle, which were so fat that their hides glistened a long way off, and when he had got past them he came to a fine, big palace. He walked through many rooms without meeting anybody. At last he heard the hum of a spinning wheel, and when he entered the room he found the eldest Princess sitting there spinning copper yarn; the room and everything in it was of brightly polished copper.“Oh, dear; oh, dear! what are Christian people doing here?” said the Princess. “Heaven preserve you! what do you want?”“I want to set you free and get you out of the mountain,” said the soldier.“Pray do not stay. If the troll comes home he will put an end to you at once; he has three heads,” said she.“I do not care if he has four,” said the soldier. “I am here, and here I shall remain.”“Well, if you will be so headstrong, I must see if I can help you,” said the Princess.She then told him to creep behind the big brewing vat which stood in the front hall; meanwhile she would receive the troll and scratch his heads till he went to sleep.“And when I go out and call the hens you must make haste and come in,” she said. “But you must first try if you can swing the sword which is lying on the table.” No, it was too heavy, he could not even move it. He had then to take a strengthening draught from the horn, which hung behind the door; after that he was just able to stir it, so he took another draught, and then he could lift it. At last he took a right, big draught, and he could swing the sword as easily as anything.All at once the troll came home; he walked so heavily that the palace shook.“Ugh, ugh! I smell Christian flesh and blood in my house,” said he.“Yes,” answered the Princess, “a raven flew past here just now, and in his beak he had a human bone, which he dropped down the chimney; I threw it out and swept and cleaned up after it, but I suppose it still smells.”“So it does,” said the troll.“But come and lie down and I’ll scratch your heads,” said the Princess; “the smell will be gone by the time you wake.”The troll was quite willing, and before long he fell asleep and began snoring. When she saw he was sleeping soundly, she placed some stools and cushions under his heads and went to call the hens. The soldier then stole into the room with the sword, and with one blow cut all the three heads off the troll.The Princess was as pleased as a fiddler, and went with the soldier to her sisters, so that he could also set them free. First of all they went across a courtyard and then through many long rooms till they came to a big door.“Here you must enter: here she is,” said the Princess. When he opened the door he found himself in a large hall, where everything was of pure silver; there sat the second sister at a silver spinning-wheel.“Oh, dear; oh, dear!” she said. “What do you want here?”“I want to set you free from the troll,” said the soldier.“Pray do not stay, but go,” said the Princess. “If he finds you here he will take your life on the spot.”“That would be awkward—that is if I don’t take his first,” said the soldier.“Well, since you will stay,” she said, “you will have to creep behind the big brewing-vat in the front hall. But you must make haste and come as soon as you hear me calling the hens.”First of all he had to try if he was able to swing the troll’s sword, which lay on the table; it was much larger and heavier than the first one; he was hardly able to move it. He then took three draughts from the horn and he could then lift it, and when he had taken three more he could handle it as if it were a rolling pin.Shortly afterwards he heard a heavy, rumbling noise that was quite terrible, and directly afterwards a troll with six heads came in.“Ugh, ugh!” he said as soon as he got his noses inside the door. “I smell Christian blood and bone in my house.”“Yes, just think! A raven came flying past here with a thigh-bone, which he dropped down the chimney,” said the Princess. “I threw it out, but the raven brought it back again. At last I got rid of it and made haste to clean the room, but I suppose the smell is not quite gone,” she said.“No, I can smell it well,” said the troll; but he was tired and put his heads in the Princess’s lap, and she went on scratching them till they all fell a-snoring. Then she called the hens, and the soldier came and cut off all the six heads as if they were set on cabbage stalks.She was no less glad than her elder sister, as you may imagine, and danced and sang; but in the midst of their joy they remembered their youngest sister. They went with the soldier across a large courtyard, and, after walking through many, many rooms, he came to the hall of gold where the third sister was.She sat at a golden spinning-wheel spinning gold yarn, and the room from ceiling to floor glistened and glittered till it hurt one’s eyes.“Heaven preserve both you and me, what do you want here?” said the Princess. “Go, go, else the troll will kill us both.”“Just as well two as one,” answered the soldier. The Princess cried and wept; but it was all of no use, he must and would remain. Since there was no help for it he would have to try if he could use the troll’s sword on the table in the front hall. But he was only just able to move it; it was still larger and heavier than the other two swords.He then had to take the horn down from the wall and take three draughts from it, but was only just able to stir the sword. When he had taken three more draughts he could lift it, and when he had taken another three he swung it as easily as if it had been a feather.The Princess then settled with the soldier to do the same as her sisters had done. As soon as the troll was well asleep she would call the hens, and he must then make haste and come in and put an end to the troll.All of a sudden they heard such a thundering, rambling noise, as if the walls and roof were tumbling in.“Ugh! Ugh! I smell Christian blood and bone in my house,” said the troll, sniffing with all his nine noses.“Yes, you never saw the like! Just now a raven flew past here and dropped a human bone down the chimney. I threw it out, but the raven brought it back, and this went on for some time,” said the Princess; but she got it buried at last, she said, and she had both swept and cleaned the place, but she supposed it still smelt.“Yes, I can smell it well,” said the troll.“Come here and lie down in my lap and I will scratch your heads,” said the Princess. “The smell will be all gone when you awake.”He did so, and when he was snoring at his best she put stools and cushions under the heads so that she could get away to call the hens. The soldier then came in in his stockinged feet and struck at the troll, so that eight of the heads fell off at one blow. But the sword was too short and did not reach far enough; the ninth head woke up and began to roar.“Ugh! Ugh! I smell a Christian.”“Yes, here he is,” answered the soldier, and before the troll could get up and seize hold of him the soldier struck him another blow and the last head rolled along the floor.You can well imagine how glad the Princesses became now that they no longer had to sit and scratch the trolls’ heads; they did not know how they could do enough for him who had saved them. The youngest Princess took off her gold ring and knotted it in his hair. They then took with them as much gold and silver as they thought they could carry and set off on their way home.As soon as they tugged at the rope the captain and the lieutenant pulled up the Princesses, the one after the other. But when they were safely up, the soldier thought it was foolish of him not to have gone up before the Princesses, for he had not very much belief in his comrades. He thought he would first try them, so he put a heavy lump of gold in the basket and got out of the way. When the basket was half-way up they cut the rope and the lump of gold fell to the bottom with such a crash that the pieces flew about his ears.“Now we are rid of him,” they said, and threatened the Princesses with their life if they did not say that it was they who had saved them from the trolls. They were forced to agree to this, much against their will, and especially the youngest Princess; but life was precious, and so the two who were strongest had their way.When the captain and lieutenant got home with the Princesses you may be sure there were great rejoicings at the palace. The King was so glad he didn’t know which leg to stand on; he brought out his best wine from his cupboard and wished the two officers welcome. If they had never been honoured before they were honoured now in full measure, and no mistake. They walked and strutted about the whole of the day, as if they were the cocks of the walk, since they were now going to have the King for father-in-law. For it was understood they should each have whichever of the Princesses they liked and half the kingdom between them. They both wanted the youngest Princess, but for all they prayed and threatened her it was of no use; she would not hear or listen to either.They then asked the King if they might have twelve men to watch over her; she was so sad and melancholy since she had been in the mountain that they were afraid she might do something to herself.Yes, that they might have, and the King himself told the watch they must look well after her and follow her wherever she went and stood.They then began to prepare for the wedding of the two eldest sisters; it should be such a wedding as never was heard or spoken of before, and there was no end to the brewing and the baking and the slaughtering.In the meantime the soldier walked and strolled about down in the other world. He thought it was hard that he should see neither people nor daylight any more; but he would have to do something, he thought, and so for many days he went about from room to room and opened all the drawers and cupboards and searched about on the shelves and looked at all the fine things that were there. At last he came to a drawer in a table, in which there lay a golden key; he tried this key to all the locks he could find, but there was none it fitted till he came to a little cupboard over the bed, and in that he found an old rusty whistle. “I wonder if there is any sound in it,” he thought, and put it to his mouth. No sooner had he whistled than he heard a whizzing and a whirring from all quarters, and such a large flock of birds swept down, that they blackened all the field in which they settled.“What does our master want to-day?” they asked.If he were their master, the soldier said, he would like to know if they could tell him how to get up to the earth again. No, none of them knew anything about that; “But our mother has not yet arrived,” they said; “if she can’t help you, no one can.”So he whistled once more, and shortly heard something flapping its wings far away, and then it began to blow so hard that he was carried away between the houses like a wisp of hay across the courtyard, and if he had not caught hold of the fence he would no doubt have been blown away altogether.A big eagle—bigger than you can imagine—then swooped down in front of him.“You come rather sharply,” said the soldier.“As you whistle so I come,” answered the eagle. So he asked her if she knew any means by which he could get away from the world in which they were.“You can’t get away from here unless you can fly,” said the eagle, “but if you will slaughter twelve oxen for me, so that I can have a really good meal, I will try and help you. Have you got a knife?”“No, but I have a sword,” he said. When the eagle had swallowed the twelve oxen she asked the soldier to kill one more for victuals on the journey. “Every time I gape you must be quick and fling a piece into my mouth,” she said, “else I shall not be able to carry you up to earth.”He did as she asked him and hung two large bags of meat round her neck and seated himself among her feathers. The eagle then began to flap her wings and off they went through the air like the wind. It was as much as the soldier could do to hold on, and it was with the greatest difficulty he managed to throw the pieces of flesh into the eagle’s mouth every time she opened it.At last the day began to dawn, and the eagle was then almost exhausted and began flapping with her wings, but the soldier was prepared and seized the last hind quarter and flung it to her. Then she gained strength and brought him up to earth. When she had sat and rested a while at the top of a large pine-tree she set off with him again at such a pace that flashes of lightning were seen both by sea and land wherever they went.Close to the palace the soldier got off and the eagle flew home again, but first she told him that if he at any time should want her he need only blow the whistle and she would be there at once.In the meantime everything was ready at the palace, and the time approached when the captain and lieutenant were to be married with the two eldest Princesses, who, however, were not much happier than their youngest sister; scarcely a day passed without weeping and mourning, and the nearer the wedding-day approached the more sorrowful did they become.At last the King asked what was the matter with them; he thought it was very strange that they were not merry and happy now that they were saved and had been set free and were going to be married. They had to give some answer, and so the eldest sister said they never would be happy any more unless they could get such checkers as they had played with in the blue mountain.That, thought the King, could be easily managed, and so he sent word to all the best and cleverest goldsmiths in the country that they should make these checkers for the Princesses. For all they tried there was no one who could make them. At last all the goldsmiths had been to the palace except one, and he was an old, infirm man who had not done any work for many years except odd jobs, by which he was just able to keep himself alive. To him the soldier went and asked to be apprenticed. The old man was so glad to get him, for he had not had an apprentice for many a day, that he brought out a flask from his chest and sat down to drink with the soldier. Before long the drink got into his head, and when the soldier saw this he persuaded him to go up to the palace and tell the King that he would undertake to make the checkers for the Princesses.He was ready to do that on the spot; he had made finer and grander things in his day, he said. When the King heard there was some one outside who could make the checkers he was not long in coming out.“Is it true what you say, that you can make such checkers as my daughters want?” he asked.“Yes, it is no lie,” said the goldsmith; that he would answer for.“That’s well!” said the King. “Here is the gold to make them with; but if you do not succeed you will lose your life, since you have come and offered yourself, and they must be finished in three days.”The next morning when the goldsmith had slept off the effects of the drink, he was not quite so confident about the job. He wailed and wept and blew up his apprentice, who had got him into such a scrape while he was drunk. The best thing would be to make short work of himself at once, he said, for there could be no hope for his life; when the best and grandest goldsmiths could not make such checkers, was it likely that he could do it?“Don’t fret on that account,” said the soldier, “but let me have the gold and I’ll get the checkers ready in time; but I must have a room to myself to work in,” he said. This he got, and thanks into the bargain.The time wore on, and the soldier did nothing but lounge about, and the goldsmith began to grumble, because he would not begin with the work.“Don’t worry yourself about it,” said the soldier, “there is plenty of time! If you are not satisfied with what I have promised you had better make them yourself.” The same thing went on both that day and the next; and when the smith heard neither hammer nor file from the soldier’s room the whole of the last day, he quite gave himself up for lost; it was now no use to think any longer about saving his life, he thought.But when the night came on the soldier opened the window and blew his whistle. The eagle then came and asked what he wanted.“Those gold checkers, which the Princesses had in the blue mountain,” said the soldier; “but you’ll want something to eat first, I suppose? I have two ox carcases lying ready for you in the hay-loft yonder; you had better finish them,” he said. When the eagle had done she did not tarry, and long before the sun rose she was back again with the checkers. The soldier then put them under his bed and lay down to sleep.Early next morning the goldsmith came and knocked at his door.“What are you after now again?” asked the soldier. “You rush about enough in the day, goodness knows! If one cannot have peace when one is in bed, whoever would be an apprentice here?” said he.Neither praying nor begging helped that time; the goldsmith must and would come in, and at last he was let in.And then, you may be sure, there was soon an end to his wailing.But still more glad than the goldsmith were the Princesses, when he came up to the palace with the checkers, and gladdest of all was the youngest Princess.“Have you made them yourself?” she asked.“No, if I must speak the truth, it is not I,” he said, “but my apprentice, who has made them.”“I should like to see that apprentice,” said the Princess. In fact all three wanted to see him, and if he valued his life, he would have to come.He was not afraid, either of women-folk or grand-folk, said the soldier, and if it could be any amusement to them to look at his rags, they should soon have that pleasure.The youngest Princess recognised him at once; she pushed the soldiers aside and ran up to him, gave him her hand, and said:“Good day, and many thanks for all you have done for us. It is he who freed us from the trolls in the mountain,” she said to the King. “He is the one I will have!” and then she pulled off his cap and showed them the ring she had tied in his hair.It soon came out how the captain and lieutenant had behaved, and so they had to pay the penalty of their treachery with their lives, and that was the end of their grandeur. But the soldier got the golden crown and half the kingdom, and married the youngest Princess.At the wedding they drank and feasted both well and long; for feast they all could, even if they could not find the Princesses, and if they have not yet done feasting and drinking they must be at it still.
Three brothers and one sister lived together in a small cottage, and they loved one another dearly. One day the eldest brother, who had never done anything but amuse himself from sunrise to sunset, said to the rest, ‘Let us all work hard, and perhaps we shall grow rich, and be able to build ourselves a palace.’And his brothers and sister answered joyfully, ‘Yes, we will all work!’So they fell to working with all their might, till at last they became rich, and were able to build themselves a beautiful palace; and everyone came from miles round to see its wonders, and to say how splendid it was. No one thought of finding any faults, till at length an old woman, who had been walking through the rooms with a crowd of people, suddenly exclaimed, ‘Yes, it is a splendid palace, but there is still something it needs!’‘And what may that be?’‘A church.’When they heard this the brothers set to work again to earn some more money, and when they had got enough they set about building a church, which should be as large and beautiful as the palace itself.And after the church was finished greater numbers of people than ever flocked to see the palace and the church and vast gardens and magnificent halls.But one day, as the brothers were as usual doing the honours to their guests, an old man turned to them and said, ‘Yes, it is all most beautiful, but there is still something it needs!’‘And what may that be?’‘A pitcher of the water of life, a branch of the tree the smell of whose flowers gives eternal beauty, and the talking bird.’‘And where am I to find all those?’‘Go to the mountain that is far off yonder, and you will find what you seek.’After the old man had bowed politely and taken farewell of them the eldest brother said to the rest, ‘I will go in search of the water of life, and the talking bird, and the tree of beauty.’‘But suppose some evil thing befalls you?’ asked his sister. ‘How shall we know?’‘You are right,’ he replied; ‘ I had not thought of that!’Then they followed the old man, and said to him, ‘My eldest brother wishes to seek for the water of life, and the tree of beauty, and the talking bird, that you tell him are needful to make our palace perfect. But how shall we know if any evil thing befall him?’So the old man took them a knife, and gave it to them, saying, ‘Keep this carefully, and as long as the blade is bright all is well; but if the blade is bloody, then know that evil has befallen him.’The brothers thanked him, and departed, and went straight to the palace, where they found the young man making ready to set out for the mountain where the treasures he longed for lay hid.And he walked, and he walked, and he walked, till he had gone a great way, and there he met a giant.‘Can you tell me how much further I have still to go before I reach that mountain yonder?’‘And why do you wish to go there?’‘I am seeking the water of life, the talking bird, and a branch of the tree of beauty.’‘Many have passed by seeking those treasures, but none have ever come back; and you will never come back either, unless you mark my words. Follow this path, and when you reach the mountain you will find it covered with stones. Do not stop to look at them, but keep on your way. As you go you will hear scoffs and laughs behind you; it will be the stones that mock. Do not heed them; above all, do not turn round. If you do you will become as one of them. Walk straight on till you get to the top, and then take all you wish for.’The young man thanked him for his counsel, and walked, and walked, and walked, till he reached the mountain. And as he climbed he heard behind him scoffs and jeers, but he kept his ears steadily closed to them. At last the noise grew so loud that he lost patience, and he stooped to pick up a stone to hurl into the midst of the clamour, when suddenly his arm seemed to stiffen, and the next moment he was a stone himself!That day his sister, who thought her brother’s steps were long in returning, took out the knife and found the blade was red as blood. Then she cried out to her brothers that something terrible had come to pass.‘I will go and find him,’ said the second. And he went.And he walked, and he walked, and he walked, till he met the giant, and asked him if he had seen a young man travelling towards the mountain.And the giant answered, ‘Yes, I have seen him pass, but I have not seen him come back. The spell must have worked upon him.’‘Then what can I do to disenchant him, and find the water of life, the talking bird, and a branch of the tree of beauty?’‘Follow this path, and when you reach the mountain you will find it covered with stones. Do not stop to look at them, but climb steadily on. Above all, heed not the laughs and scoffs that will arise on all sides, and never turn round. And when you reach the top you can then take all you desire.’The young man thanked him for his counsel, and set out for the mountain. But no sooner did he reach it than loud jests and gibes broke out on every side, and almost deafened him. For some time he let them rail, and pushed boldly on, till he had passed the place which his brother had gained; then suddenly he thought that among the scoffing sounds he heard his brother’s voice. He stopped and looked back; and another stone was added to the number.Meanwhile the sister left at home was counting the days when her two brothers should return to her. The time seemed long, and it would be hard to say how often she took out the knife and looked at its polished blade to make sure that this one at least was still safe. The blade was always bright and clear; each time she looked she had the happiness of knowing that all was well, till one evening, tired and anxious, as she frequently was at the end of the day, she took it from its drawer, and behold! the blade was red with blood. Her cry of horror brought her youngest brother to her, and, unable to speak, she held out the knife!‘I will go,’ he said.So he walked, and he walked, and he walked, until he met the giant, and he asked, ‘Have two young men, making for yonder mountain, passed this way?’And the giant answered, ‘Yes, they have passed by, but they never came back, and by this I know that the spell has fallen upon them.’‘Then what must I do to free them, and to get the water of life, and the talking bird, and the branch of the tree of beauty?’‘Go to the mountain, which you will find so thickly covered with stones that you will hardly be able to place your feet, and walk straight forward, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, and paying no heed to the laughs and scoffs which will follow you, till you reach the top, and then you may take all that you desire.’The young man thanked the giant for his counsel, and set forth to the mountain. And when he began to climb there burst forth all around him a storm of scoffs and jeers; but he thought of the giant’s words, and looked neither to the right hand nor to the left, till the mountain top lay straight before him. A moment now and he would have gained it, when, through the groans and yells, he heard his brothers’ voices. He turned, and there was one stone the more.And all this while his sister was pacing up and down the palace, hardly letting the knife out of her hand, and dreading what she knew she would see, and what she did see. The blade grew red before her eyes, and she said, ‘Now it is my turn.’So she walked, and she walked, and she walked till she came to the giant, and prayed him to tell her if he had seen three young men pass that way seeking the distant mountain.‘I have seen them pass, but they have never returned, and by this I know that the spell has fallen upon them.’‘And what must I do to set them free, and to find the water of life, and the talking bird, and a branch of the tree of beauty?’‘You must go to that mountain, which is so full of stones that your feet will hardly find a place to tread, and as you climb you will hear a noise as if all the stones in the world were mocking you; but pay no heed to anything you may hear, and, once you gain the top, you have gained everything.’The girl thanked him for his counsel, and set out for the mountain; and scarcely had she gone a few steps upwards when cries and screams broke forth around her, and she felt as if each stone she trod on was a living thing. But she remembered the words of the giant, and knew not what had befallen her brothers, and kept her face steadily towards the mountain top, which grew nearer and nearer every moment. But as she mounted the clamour increased sevenfold: high above them all rang the voices of her three brothers. But the girl took no heed, and at last her feet stood upon the top.Then she looked round, and saw, lying in a hollow, the pool of the water of life. And she took the brazen pitcher that she had brought with her, and filled it to the brim. By the side of the pool stood the tree of beauty, with the talking bird on one of its boughs; and she caught the bird, and placed it in a cage, and broke off one of the branches.After that she turned, and went joyfully down the hill again, carrying her treasures, but her long climb had tired her out, and the brazen pitcher was very heavy, and as she walked a few drops of the water spilt on the stones, and as it touched them they changed into young men and maidens, crowding about her to give thanks for their deliverance.So she learnt by this how the evil spell might be broken, and she carefully sprinkled every stone till there was not one left—only a great company of youths and girls who followed her down the mountain.When they arrived at the palace she did not lose a moment in planting the branch of the tree of beauty and watering it with the water of life. And the branch shot up into a tree, and was heavy with flowers, and the talking bird nestled in its branches.Now the fame of these wonders was noised abroad, and the people flocked in great numbers to see the three marvels, and the maiden who had won them; and among the sightseers came the king’s son, who would not go till everything was shown him, and till he had heard how it had all happened. And the prince admired the strangeness and beauty of the treasures in the palace, but more than all he admired the beauty and courage of the maiden who had brought them there. So he went home and told his parents, and gained their consent to wed her for his wife.Then the marriage was celebrated in the church adjoining the palace. Then the bridegroom took her to his own home, where they lived happy for ever after.
Once upon a time there was a man named Huang An. He must have been well over eighty and yet he looked like a youth. He lived on cinnabar and wore no clothing. Even in winter he went about without garments. He sat on a tortoise three feet long. Once he was asked: “About how old might this tortoise be?” He answered: “When Fu Hi first invented fish-nets and eel-pots he caught this tortoise and gave it to me. And since then I have worn its shield quite flat sitting on it. The creature dreads the radiance of the sun and moon, so it only sticks its head out of its shell once in two thousand years. Since I have had the beast, it has already stuck its head out five times.” With these words he took his tortoise on his back and went off. And the legend arose that this man was ten thousand years old.Note: Cinnabar is frequently used in the preparation of the elixir of life (comp. No. 30). Fu Hi is “the life-breeding breath.” Tortoises live to a great age.
There was once a man who had a son who was very clever at reading, and took great delight in it. He went out into the world to seek service somewhere, and as he was walking between some mounds he met a man, who asked him where he was going.‘I am going about seeking for service,’ said the boy.‘Will you serve me?’ asked the man.‘Oh, yes; just as readily you as anyone else,’ said the boy.‘But can you read?’ asked the man.‘As well as the priest,’ said the boy.Then I can’t have you,’ said the man. ‘In fact, I was just wanting a boy who couldn’t read. His only work would be to dust my old books.’The man then went on his way, and left the boy looking after him.‘It was a pity I didn’t get that place,’ thought he ‘That was just the very thing for me.’Making up his mind to get the situation if possible, he hid himself behind one of the mounds, and turned his jacket outside in, so that the man would not know him again so easily. Then he ran along behind the mounds, and met the man at the other end of them.‘Where are you going, my little boy?’ said the man, who did not notice that it was the same one he had met before.‘I am going about seeking for service?’ said the boy.‘Will you serve me?’ asked the man.‘Oh, yes; just as readily you as anyone else,’ said the boy.‘But can you read?’ said the man.‘No, I don’t know a single letter,’ said the boy.The man then took him into his service, and all the work he had to do was to dust his master’s books. But as he did this he had plenty of time to read them as well, and he read away at them until at last he was just as wise as his master—who was a great wizard—and could perform all kinds of magic. Among other feats, he could change himself into the shape of any animal, or any other thing that he pleased.When he had learned all this he did not think it worth while staying there any longer, so he ran away home to his parents again. Soon after this there was a market in the next village, and the boy told his mother that he had learned how to change himself into the shape of any animal he chose.‘Now,’ said he, ‘I shall change myself to a horse, and father can take me to market and sell me. I shall come home again all right.’His mother was frightened at the idea, but the boy told her that she need not be alarmed; all would be well. So he changed himself to a horse, such a fine horse, too, that his father got a high price for it at the market; but after the bargain was made, and the money paid, the boy changed again to his own shape, when no one was looking, and went home.The story spread all over the country about the fine horse that had been sold and then had disappeared, and at last the news came to the ears of the wizard.‘Aha!’ said he, ‘this is that boy of mine, who befooled me and ran away; but I shall have him yet.’The next time that there was a market the boy again changed himself to a horse, and was taken thither by his father. The horse soon found a purchaser, and while the two were inside drinking the luck-penny the wizard came along and saw the horse. He knew at once that it was not an ordinary one, so he also went inside, and offered the purchaser far more than he had paid for it, so the latter sold it to him.The first thing the wizard now did was to lead the horse away to a smith to get a red-hot nail driven into its mouth, because after that it could not change its shape again. When the horse saw this it changed itself to a dove, and flew up into the air. The wizard at once changed himself into a hawk, and flew up after it. The dove now turned into a gold ring, and fell into a girl’s lap. The hawk now turned into a man, and offered the girl a great sum of money for the gold ring, but she would not part with it, seeing that it had fallen down to her, as it were, from Heaven. However, the wizard kept on offering her more and more for it, until at last the gold ring grew frightened, and changed itself into a grain of barley, which fell on the ground. The man then turned into a hen, and began to search for the grain of barley, but this again changed itself to a pole-cat, and took off the hen’s head with a single snap.The wizard was now dead, the pole-cat put on human shape, and the youth afterwards married the girl, and from that time forward let all his magic arts alone.
The wife of a rich man fell sick, and as she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, “Dear child, be good and pious, and then the good God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you.”Thereupon she closed her eyes and departed. Every day the maiden went out to her mother’s grave and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white sheet over the grave, and when the spring sun had drawn it off again, the man had taken another wife.The woman had brought two daughters into the house with her, who were beautiful and fair of face, but vile and black of heart. Now began a bad time for the poor step-child.“Is the stupid goose to sit in the parlour with us?” said they. “He who wants to eat bread must earn it; out with the kitchen-wench.”They took her pretty clothes away from her, put an old grey bedgown on her, and gave her wooden shoes. “Just look at the proud princess, how decked out she is!” they cried, and laughed, and led her into the kitchen.There she had to do hard work from morning till night, get up before daybreak, carry water, light fires, cook and wash. Besides this, the sisters did her every imaginable injury they mocked her and emptied her peas and lentils into the ashes, so that she was forced to sit and pick them out again.In the evening when she had worked till she was weary she had no bed to go to, but had to sleep by the fireside in the ashes. And as on that account she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella. It happened that the father was once going to the fair, and he asked his two step-daughters what he should bring back for them.“Beautiful dresses,” said one, “Pearls and jewels,” said the second.“And thou, Cinderella,” said he, “what wilt thou have?”“Father, break off for me the first branch which knocks against your hat on your way home.”So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls and jewels for his two step-daughters, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the branch and took it with him.When he reached home he gave his step-daughters the things which they had wished for, and to Cinderella he gave the branch from the hazel-bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother’s grave and planted the branch on it, and wept so much that the tears fell down on it and watered it. It grew, however, and became a handsome tree. Three times a day Cinderella went and sat beneath it, and wept and prayed, and a little white bird always came on the tree, and if Cinderella expressed a wish, the bird threw down to her what she had wished for.It happened, however, that the King appointed a festival which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful young girls in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose himself a bride. When the two step-sisters heard that they too were to appear among the number, they were delighted, called Cinderella and said, “Comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and fasten our buckles, for we are going to the festival at the King’s palace.”Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to go with them to the dance, and begged her step-mother to allow her to do so.“You go, Cinderella!” said she; “You are dusty and dirty, and would go to the festival? You have no clothes and shoes, and yet would dance!” As, however, Cinderella went on asking, the step-mother at last said, “I have emptied a dish of lentils into the ashes for thee, if you hast picked them out again in two hours, you shalt go with us.” The maiden went through the back-door into the garden, and called, “You tame pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to pick“The good into the pot,The bad into the crop.”Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and afterwards the turtle-doves, and at last all the birds beneath the sky, came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes. And the pigeons nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, pick, and the rest began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good grains into the dish. Hardly had one hour passed before they had finished, and all flew out again. Then the girl took the dish to her step-mother, and was glad, and believed that now she would be allowed to go with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, “No, Cinderella, thou hast no clothes and thou canst not dance; thou wouldst only be laughed at.” And as Cinderella wept at this, the step-mother said, “If you cant pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour, you shall go with us.” And she thought to herself, “That she most certainly cannot do.”When the step-mother had emptied the two dishes of lentils amongst the ashes, the maiden went through the back-door into the garden and cried, “You tame pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds under heaven, come and help me to pick“The good into the pot,The bad into the crop.”Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and afterwards the turtle-doves, and at length all the birds beneath the sky, came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes. And the doves nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, pick, and the others began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good seeds into the dishes, and before half an hour was over they had already finished, and all flew out again.Then the maiden carried the dishes to the step-mother and was delighted, and believed that she might now go with them to the festival.But the step-mother said, “All this will not help you, you aren’t to go with us, for you have no clothes and can not dance; we should be ashamed of you!” On this she turned her back on Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.As no one was now at home, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave beneath the hazel-tree, and cried,“Shiver and quiver, little tree,Silver and gold throw down over me.”Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She put on the dress with all speed, and went to the festival. Her step-sisters and the step-mother, however, did not know her, and thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress.They never once thought of Cinderella, and believed that she was sitting at home in the dirt, picking lentils out of the ashes. The prince went to meet her, took her by the hand and danced with her. He would dance with no other maiden, and never left loose of her hand, and if any one else came to invite her, he said, “This is my partner.”She danced till it was evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the King’s son said, “I will go with you and bear your company,” for he wished to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. She escaped from him, however, and sprang into the pigeon-house. The King’s son waited until her father came, and then he told him that the stranger maiden had leapt into the pigeon-house.The old man thought, “Can it be Cinderella?” and they had to bring him an axe and a pickaxe that he might hew the pigeon-house to pieces, but no one was inside it. And when they got home Cinderella lay in her dirty clothes among the ashes, and a dim little oil-lamp was burning on the mantle-piece, for Cinderella had jumped quickly down from the back of the pigeon-house and had run to the little hazel-tree, and there she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again, and then she had placed herself in the kitchen amongst the ashes in her grey gown.Next day when the festival began afresh, and her parents and the step-sisters had gone once more, Cinderella went to the hazel-tree and said“Shiver and quiver, my little tree,Silver and gold throw down over me.”Then the bird threw down a much more beautiful dress than on the preceding day. And when Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, everyone was astonished at her beauty. The King’s son had waited until she came, and instantly took her by the hand and danced with no one but her. When others came and invited her, he said, “She is my partner.”When evening came she wished to leave, and the King’s son followed her and wanted to see into which house she went. But she sprang away from him, and into the garden behind the house. There stood a beautiful tall tree on which hung the most magnificent pears. She clambered so nimbly between the branches like a squirrel, that the King’s son did not know where she was gone. He waited until her father came, and said to him, “The stranger- maiden has escaped from me, and I believe she has climbed up the pear-tree.”The father thought, “Can it be Cinderella?” and had an axe brought and cut the tree down, but no one was on it. And when they got into the kitchen, Cinderella lay there amongst the ashes, as usual, for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, had taken the beautiful dress to the bird on the little hazel-tree, and put on her grey gown.On the third day, when the parents and sisters had gone away, Cinderella went once more to her mother’s grave and said to the little tree“Shiver and quiver, my little tree,Silver and gold throw down over me.”And now the bird threw down to her a dress which was more splendid and magnificent than any she had yet had, and the slippers were golden. And when she went to the festival in the dress, no one knew how to speak for astonishment. The King’s son danced with her only, and if any one invited her to dance, he said, “She is my partner.”When evening came, Cinderella wished to leave, and the King’s son was anxious to go with her, but she escaped from him so quickly that he could not follow her. The King’s son had, however, used a stratagem, and had caused the whole staircase to be smeared with pitch, and there, when she ran down, had the maiden’s left slipper remained sticking. The King’s son picked it up, and it was small and dainty, and all golden.Next morning, he went with it to the father, and said to him, “No one shall be my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.” Then were the two sisters glad, for they had pretty feet. The eldest went with the shoe into her room and wanted to try it on, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her big toe into it, and the shoe was too small for her.Then her mother gave her a knife and said, “Cut the toe off; when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to go on foot.”The maiden cut the toe off, forced the foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the King’s son. Then he took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. They were, however, obliged to pass the grave, and there, on the hazel-tree, sat the two pigeons and cried,“Turn and peep, turn and peep,There’s blood within the shoe,The shoe it is too small for her,The true bride waits for you.”Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. He turned his horse round and took the false bride home again, and said she was not the true one, and that the other sister was to put the shoe on.Then this one went into her chamber and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was too large. So her mother gave her a knife and said, “Cut a bit off thy heel; when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to go on foot.”The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the King’s son. He took her on his horse as his bride, and rode away with her, but when they passed by the hazel-tree, two little pigeons sat on it and cried,“Turn and peep, turn and peep,There’s blood within the shoe,The shoe it is too small for her,The true bride waits for you.”He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking. Then he turned his horse and took the false bride home again.“This also is not the right one,” said he, “have you no other daughter?”“No,” said the man, “There is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot possibly be the bride.”The King’s son said he was to send her up to him; but the mother answered, “Oh no, she is much too dirty, she cannot show herself!” He absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had to be called. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the King’s son, who gave her the golden shoe. Then she seated herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, which fit like a glove.And when she rose up and the King’s son looked at her face he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with him and cried, “That is the true bride!”The step-mother and the two sisters were terrified and became pale with rage; he, however, took Cinderella on his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel-tree, the two white doves cried,“Turn and peep, turn and peep,No blood is in the shoe,The shoe is not too small for her,The true bride rides with you,”and when they had cried that, the two came flying down and placed themselves on Cinderella’s shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remained sitting there.When the wedding with the King’s son had to be celebrated, the two false sisters came and wanted to get into favour with Cinderella and share her good fortune. When the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye of each of them.Afterwards as they came back, the elder was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye of each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.{Note: You can read illustrated versions of other Cinderella stories from around the world in our collection Cinderella Tales: International Cinderella Stories and Fairy Tales, now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback. Listen to the Cinderella audiobook plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}
Once upon a time there were two brothers whose father had left them but a small fortune. The eldest grew very rich, but at the same time cruel and wicked, whereas there was nowhere a more honest or kinder man than the younger. But he remained poor, and had many children, so that at times they could scarcely get bread to eat. At last, one day there was not even this in the house, so he went to his rich brother and asked him for a loaf of bread. Waste of time! His rich brother only called him beggar and vagabond, and slammed the door in his face.The poor fellow, after this brutal reception, did not know which way to turn. Hungry, scantily clad, shivering with cold, his legs could scarcely carry him along. He had not the heart to go home, with nothing for the children, so he went towards the mountain forest. But all he found there were some wild pears that had fallen to the ground. He had to content himself with eating these, though they set his teeth on edge. But what was he to do to warm himself, for the east wind with its chill blast pierced him through and through. “Where shall I go?” he said; “what will become of us in the cottage? There is neither food nor fire, and my brother has driven me from his door.” It was just then he remembered having heard that the top of the mountain in front of him was made of crystal, and had a fire for ever burning upon it. “I will try and find it,” he said, “and then I may be able to warm myself a little.” So he went on climbing higher and higher till he reached the top, when he was startled to see twelve strange beings sitting round a huge fire. He stopped for a moment, but then said to himself, “What have I to lose? Why should I fear? God is with me. Courage!”So he advanced towards the fire, and bowing respectfully, said: “Good people, take pity on my distress. I am very poor, no one cares for me, I have not even a fire in my cottage; will you let me warm myself at yours?” They all looked kindly at him, and one of them said: “My son, come sit down with us and warm yourself.”So he sat down, and felt warm directly he was near them. But he dared not speak while they were silent. What astonished him most was that they changed seats one after another, and in such a way that each one passed round the fire and came back to his own place. When he drew near the fire an old man with long white beard and bald head arose from the flames and spoke to him thus:“Man, waste not thy life here; return to thy cottage, work, and live honestly. Take as many embers as thou wilt, we have more than we need.”And having said this he disappeared. Then the twelve filled a large sack with embers, and, putting it on the poor man’s shoulders, advised him to hasten home.Humbly thanking them, he set off. As he went he wondered why the embers did not feel hot, and why they should weigh no more than a sack of paper. He was thankful that he should be able to have a fire, but imagine his astonishment when on arriving home he found the sack to contain as many gold pieces as there had been embers; he almost went out of his mind with joy at the possession of so much money. With all his heart he thanked those who had been so ready to help him in his need.He was now rich, and rejoiced to be able to provide for his family. Being curious to find out how many gold pieces there were, and not knowing how to count, he sent his wife to his rich brother for the loan of a quart measure.This time the brother was in a better temper, so he lent what was asked of him, but said mockingly, “What can such beggars as you have to measure?”The wife replied, “Our neighbour owes us some wheat; we want to be sure he returns us the right quantity.”The rich brother was puzzled, and suspecting something he, unknown to his sister-in-law, put some grease inside the measure. The trick succeeded, for on getting it back he found a piece of gold sticking to it. Filled with astonishment, he could only suppose his brother had joined a band of robbers: so he hurried to his brother’s cottage, and threatened to bring him before the Justice of the Peace if he did not confess where the gold came from. The poor man was troubled, and, dreading to offend his brother, told the story of his journey to the Crystal Mountain.Now the elder brother had plenty of money for himself, yet he was envious of the brother’s good fortune, and became greatly displeased when he found that his brother won every one’s esteem by the good use he made of his wealth. At last he determined to visit the Crystal Mountain himself.“I may meet with as good luck as my brother,” said he to himself.Upon reaching the Crystal Mountain he found the twelve seated round the fire as before, and thus addressed them:“I beg of you, good people, to let me warm myself, for it is bitterly cold, and I am poor and homeless.”But one of them replied, “My son, the hour of thy birth was favourable; thou art rich, but a miser; thou art wicked, for thou hast dared to lie to us. Well dost thou deserve thy punishment.”Amazed and terrified he stood silent, not daring to speak. Meanwhile the twelve changed places one after another, each at last returning to his own seat. Then from the midst of the flames arose the white-bearded old man and spoke thus sternly to the rich man:“Woe unto the wilful! Thy brother is virtuous, therefore have I blessed him. As for thee, thou art wicked, and so shalt not escape our vengeance.”At these words the twelve arose. The first seized the unfortunate man, struck him, and passed him on to the second; the second also struck him and passed him on to the third; and so did they all in their turn, until he was given up to the old man, who disappeared with him into the fire.Days, weeks, months went by, but the rich man never returned, and none knew what had become of him. I think, between you and me, the younger brother had his suspicions but he very wisely kept them to himself.
Charles Dickens once told us about a pig, and since that time we are in a good humour if we only hear one grunt. St. Antony took the pig under his protection; and when we think of the prodigal son we always associate with him the idea of feeding swine; and it was in front of a pig-sty that a certain carriage stopped in Sweden, about which I am going to talk. The farmer had his pig-sty built out towards the high road, close by his house, and it was a wonderful pig-sty. It was an old state carriage. The seats had been taken out and the wheels taken off, and so the body of the old coach lay on the ground, and four pigs were shut up inside it. I wonder if these were the first that had ever been there? That point could not certainly be determined; but that it had been a real state coach everything bore witness, even to the damask rag that hung down from the roof; everything spoke of better days.“Humph! humph!” said the occupants, and the coach creaked and groaned; for it had come to a mournful end. “The beautiful has departed,” it sighed—or at least it might have done so.We came back in autumn. The coach was there still, but the pigs were gone. They were playing the grand lords out in the woods. Blossoms and leaves were gone from all the trees, and storm and rain ruled, and gave them neither peace nor rest; and the birds of passage had flown. “The beautiful has departed! This was the glorious green wood, but the song of the birds and the warm sunshine are gone! gone!” Thus said the mournful voice that creaked in the lofty branches of the trees, and it sounded like a deep-drawn sigh, a sigh from the bosom of the wild rose tree, and of him who sat there; it was the rose king. Do you know him? He is all beard, the finest reddish-green beard; he is easily recognized. Go up to the wild rose bushes, and when in autumn all the flowers have faded from them, and only the wild hips remain, you will often find under them a great red-green moss flower; and that is the rose king. A little green leaf grows up out of his head, and that’s his feather. He is the only man of his kind on the rose bush; and he it was who sighed.“Gone! gone! The beautiful is gone! The roses have faded, and the leaves fall down! It’s wet here! it’s boisterous here! The birds who used to sing are dumb, and the pigs go out hunting for acorns, and the pigs are the lords of the forest!”The nights were cold and the days were misty; but, for all that, the raven sat on the branch and sang, “Good! good!” Raven and crow sat on the high bough; and they had a large family, who all said, “Good! good!” and the majority is always right.Under the high trees, in the hollow, was a great puddle, and here the pigs reclined, great and small. They found the place so inexpressibly lovely! “Oui! oui!” they all exclaimed. That was all the French they knew, but even that was something; and they were so clever and so fat!The old ones lay quite still, and reflected; the young ones were very busy, and were not quiet a moment. One little porker had a twist in his tail like a ring, and this ring was his mothers’s pride: she thought all the rest were looking at the ring, and thinking only of the ring; but that they were not doing; they were thinking of themselves and of what was useful, and what was the use of the wood. They had always heard that the acorns they ate grew at the roots of the trees, and accordingly they had grubbed up the ground; but there came quite a little pig—it’s always the young ones who come out with their new-fangled notions—who declared that the acorns fell down from the branches, for one had just fallen down on his head, and the idea had struck him at once, afterwards he had made observations, and now was quite certain on the point. The old ones put their heads together. “Umph!” they said, “umph! The glory has departed: the twittering of the birds is all over: we want fruit; whatever’s good to eat is good, and we eat everything.”“Oui! oui!” chimed in all the rest.But the mother now looked at her little porker, the one with the ring in his tail, “One must not overlook the beautiful,” she said. “Good! good!” cried the crow, and flew down from the tree to try and get an appointment as nightingale; for some one must be appointed; and the crow obtained the office directly.“Gone! gone!” sighed the rose king. “All the beautiful is gone!”It was boisterous, it was grey, cold, and windy; and through the forest and over the field swept the rain in long dark streaks. Where is the bird who sang, where are the flowers upon the meadow, and the sweet berries of the wood? Gone! gone!Then a light gleamed from the forester’s house. It was lit up like a star, and threw its long ray among the trees. A song sounded forth out of the house! Beautiful children played there round the old grandfather. He sat with the Bible on his knee, and read of the Creator and of a better world, and spoke of spring that would return, of the forest that would array itself in fresh green, of the roses that would bloom, the nightingale that would sing, and of the beautiful that would reign in its glory again.But the rose king heard it not, for he sat in the cold, damp weather, and sighed, “Gone! gone!” And the pigs were the lords of the forest, and the old mother sow looked proudly at her little porker with the twist in his tail. “There is always somebody who has a soul for the beautiful!” she said.
A sparrow had four young ones in a swallow’s nest. When they were fledged, some naughty boys pulled out the nest, but fortunately all the birds got safely away in the high wind. Then the old bird was grieved that as his sons had all gone out into the world, he had not first warned them of every kind of danger, and given them good instruction how to deal with each. In the autumn a great many sparrows assembled together in a wheatfield, and there the old bird met his four children again, and full of joy took them home with him. “Ah, my dear sons, what pain I have been in about you all through the summer, because you got away in the wind without my teaching; listen to my words, obey your father, and be well on your guard. Little birds have to encounter great dangers!” And then he asked the eldest where he had spent the summer, and how he had supported himself? “I stayed in the gardens, and looked for caterpillars and small worms, until the cherries got ripe.” “Ah, my son,” said the father, “tit-bits are not bad, but there is great risk about them; on that account take great care of thyself henceforth, and particularly when people are going about the gardens who carry long green poles which are hollow inside and have a little hole at the top.” “Yes, father, but what if a little green leaf is stuck over the hole with wax?” said the son. “Where hast thou seen that?” “In a merchant’s garden,” said the youngster. “Oh, my son, merchant folks are quick folks,” said the father. “If thou hast been among the children of the world, thou hast learned worldly shiftiness enough, only see that thou usest it well, and do not be too confident.” After this he asked the next, “Where hast thou passed thy time?” “At court,” said the son. “Sparrows and silly little birds are of no use in that place there one finds much gold, velvet, silk, armour, harnesses, sparrow-hawks, screech-owls and hen-harriers; keep to the horses’ stable where they winnow oats, or thresh, and then fortune may give thee thy daily grain of corn in peace.” “Yes, father,” said the son, “but when the stable-boys make traps and fix their gins and snares in the straw, many a one is caught fast.” “Where hast thou seen that?” said the old bird. “At court, among the stable-boys.” “Oh, my son, court boys are bad boys! If thou hast been to court and among the lords, and hast left no feathers there, thou hast learnt a fair amount, and wilt know very well how to go about the world, but look around thee and above thee, for the wolves devour the wisest dogs.” The father examined the third also: “Where didst thou seek thy safety?” “I have broken up tubs and ropes on the cart-roads and highways, and sometimes met with a grain of corn or barley.” “That is indeed dainty fare,” said the father, “but take care what thou art about and look carefully around, especially when thou seest any one stooping and about to pick up a stone, there is not much time to stay then.” “That is true,” said the son, “but what if any one should carry a bit of rock, or ore, ready beforehand in his breast or pocket?” “Where hast thou seen that?” “Among the mountaineers, dear father; when they go out, they generally take little bits of ore with them.” “Mountain folks are working folks, and clever folks. If thou hast been among mountain lads, thou hast seen and learnt something, but when thou goest thither beware, for many a sparrow has been brought to a bad end by a mountain boy.” At length the father came to the youngest son: “Thou, my dear chirping nestling, wert always the silliest and weakest; stay with me, the world has many rough, wicked birds which have crooked beaks and long claws, and lie in wait for poor little birds and swallow them. Keep with those of thine own kind, and pick up little spiders and caterpillars from the trees, or the house, and then thou wilt live long in peace.” “My dear father, he who feeds himself without injury to other people fares well, and no sparrow-hawk, eagle, or kite will hurt him if he specially commits himself and his lawful food, evening and morning, faithfully to God, who is the Creator and Preserver of all forest and village birds, who likewise heareth the cry and prayer of the young ravens, for no sparrow or wren ever falls to the ground except by his will.” “Where hast thou learnt this?” The son answered, “When the great blast of wind tore me away from thee I came to a church, and there during the summer I have picked up the flies and spiders from the windows, and heard this discourse preached. The Father of all sparrows fed me all the summer through, and kept me from all mischance and from ferocious birds.”“In sooth, my dear son, if thou takest refuge in the churches and helpest to clear away spiders and buzzing flies, and criest unto God like the young ravens, and commendest thyself to the eternal Creator, all will be well with thee, and that even if the whole world were full of wild malicious birds.”“He who to God commits his ways,In silence suffers, waits, and prays,Preserves his faith and conscience pure,He is of God’s protection sure.”
You know, surely, what the microscope is—that wonderful little glass which makes everything appear a hundred times larger than it really is.If you look through a microscope at a single drop of ditch water, you will see a thousand odd-looking creatures, such as you never could imagine dwelled in water. They do not look unlike a whole plateful of shrimps, all jumping and crowding upon each other. So fierce are these little creatures that they will tear off each other’s arms and legs without the least mercy, and yet after their fashion they look merry and happy.Now there was once an old man, whom his neighbors called Cribbley Crabbley—a curious name, to be sure, which meant something like “creep-and-crawl.” He always liked to make the most of everything, and when he could not manage it in the ordinary way, he tried magic.One day he sat looking through his microscope at a drop of water that had been brought from a neighboring ditch. What a scene of scrambling and swarming it was, to be sure! All the thousands of little imps in the water jumped and sprang about, devouring each other, or tearing each other to bits.“Upon my word this is really shocking. There must surely be some way to make them live in peace and quiet, so that each attends only to his own concerns.” And he thought and thought, but still could not hit upon any plan, so he must needs have recourse to conjuring.“I must give them color so that they may be seen more plainly,” said he. Accordingly he poured something that looked like a drop of red wine—but which in reality was witch’s blood—upon the drop of water. Immediately all the strange little creatures became red all over, and looked for all the world like a whole town full of naked red Indians.“Why, what have you here?” asked another old magician, who had no name at all, which made him even more remarkable than Cribbley Crabbley.“If you can find out what it is,” replied Cribbley Crabbley, “I will give it you; but I warn you you’ll not do so easily.”The conjurer without a name looked through the microscope, and it seemed to him that the scene before him was a whole town, in which the people ran about naked in the wildest way. It was quite shocking! Still more horrible was it to see how they kicked and cuffed, struggled and fought, pecked, bit, tore, and swallowed, each his neighbor. Those that were under wanted to be at the top, while those that chanced to be at the top must needs thrust themselves underneath.“And now look, his leg is longer than mine, so off with it!” one seemed to be saying. Another had a little lump behind his ear,—an innocent little lump enough,—but it seemed to pain him, and therefore the others seemed determined that it should pain him more. So they hacked at it, and dragged the poor thing about, and at last ate him up, all on account of the little lump. One only of the creatures was quiet, a modest little maid, who sat by herself evidently wishing for nothing but peace and quietness. The others would not have it so, however. They soon pulled the little damsel forward, cuffed and tore her, and then ate her up.“This is uncommonly droll and amusing!” said the nameless magician.“Yes. But what do you think it is?” asked Cribbley Crabbley. “Can you make it out?”“It is easy enough to guess, to be sure,” was the reply of the nameless magician; “easy enough. It is either Paris or Copenhagen, or some other great city; I don’t know which, for they are all alike. It is some great city, of course.”“It is a drop of ditch-water,” said Cribbley Crabbley.
A Horse and an Ass were traveling together, the Horse prancing along in its fine trappings, the Ass carrying with difficulty the heavy weight in its panniers. “I wish I were you,” sighed the Ass; “nothing to do and well fed, and all that fine harness upon you.” Next day, however, there was a great battle, and the Horse was wounded to death in the final charge of the day. His friend, the Ass, happened to pass by shortly afterwards and found him on the point of death. “I was wrong,” said the Ass: “Better humble security than gilded danger.”
One very hot day, when a carabao went into the river to bathe, he met a shell and they began talking together.“You are very slow,” said the carabao to the shell.“Oh, no,” replied the shell. “I can beat you in a race.”“Then let us try and see,” said the carabao.So they went out on the bank and started to run.After the carabao had gone a long distance he stopped and called, “Shell!”And another shell lying by the river answered, “Here I am!”Then the carabao, thinking that it was the same shell with which he was racing, ran on.By and by he stopped again and called, “Shell!”Again another shell answered, “Here I am!”The carabao was surprised that the shell could keep up with him. But he ran on and on, and every time he stopped to call, another shell answered him. But he was determined that the shell should not beat him, so he ran until he dropped dead.
A Hunter was searching in the forest for the tracks of a lion, and, catching sight presently of a Woodman engaged in felling a tree, he went up to him and asked him if he had noticed a lion’s footprints anywhere about, or if he knew where his den was. The Woodman answered, “If you will come with me, I will show you the lion himself.” The Hunter turned pale with fear, and his teeth chattered as he replied, “Oh, I’m not looking for the lion, thanks, but only for his tracks.”
King Effiom of Duke Town, Calabar, was very fond of pretty maidens, and whenever he heard of a girl who was unusually good-looking, he always sent for her, and if she took his fancy, he made her one of his wives. This he could afford to do, as he was a rich man, and could pay any dowry which the parents asked, most of his money having been made by buying and selling slaves.Effiom had two hundred and fifty wives, but he was never content, and wanted to have all the finest women in the land. Some of the king’s friends, who were always on the look-out for pretty girls, told Effiom that the Cock’s daughter was a lovely virgin, and far superior to any of the king’s wives. Directly the king heard this he sent for the Cock, and said he intended to have his daughter as one of his wives. The Cock, being a poor man, could not resist the order of the king, so he brought his daughter, who was very good-looking and pleased the king immensely. When the king had paid the Cock a dowry of six puncheons of palm-oil, the Cock told Effiom that if he married his daughter he must not forget that she had the natural instincts of a hen, and that he should not blame Adia unen (his daughter) if she picked up corn whenever she saw it. The king replied that he did not mind what she ate so long as he possessed her.The king then took Adia unen as his wife, and liked her so much, that he neglected all his other wives, and lived entirely with Adia unen, as she suited him exactly and pleased him more than any of his other wives. She also amused the king, and played with him and enticed him in so many different ways that he could not live without her, and always had her with him to the exclusion of his former favourites, whom he would not even speak to or notice in any way when he met them. This so enraged the neglected wives that they met together, and although they all hated one another, they agreed so far that they hated the Cock’s daughter more than any one, as now that she had come to the king none of them ever had a chance with him. Formerly the king, although he always had his favourites, used to favour different girls with his attentions when they pleased him particularly. That was very different in their opinion to being excluded from his presence and all his affections being concentrated on one girl, who received all his love and embraces. In consequence of this they were very angry, and determined if possible to disgrace Adia unen. After much discussion, one of the wives, who was the last favourite, and whom the arrival of the Cock’s daughter had displaced, said: “This girl, whom we all hate, is, after all, only a Cock’s daughter, and we can easily disgrace her in the king’s eyes, as I heard her father tell the king that she could not resist corn, no matter how it was thrown about.”Very shortly after the king’s wives had determined to try and disgrace Adia unen, all the people of the country came to pay homage to the king. This was done three times a year, the people bringing yams, fowls, goats, and new corn as presents, and the king entertained them with a feast of foo-foo, palm-oil chop, and tombo (African drink).A big dance was also held, which was usually kept up for several days and nights. Early in the morning the king’s head wife told her servant to wash one head of corn, and when all the people were present she was to bring it in a calabash and throw it on the ground and then walk away. The corn was to be thrown in front of Adia unen, so that all the people and chiefs could see.About ten o’clock, when all the chiefs and people had assembled, and the king had taken his seat on his big wooden chair, the servant girl came and threw the corn on the ground as she had been ordered. Directly she had done this Adia unen started towards the corn, picked it up, and began to eat. At this all the people laughed, and the king was very angry and ashamed. The king’s wives and many people said that they thought the king’s finest wife would have learnt better manners than to pick up corn which had been thrown away as refuse. Others said: “What can you expect from a Cock’s daughter? She should not be blamed for obeying her natural instincts.” But the king was so vexed, that he told one of his servants to pack up Adia unen’s things and take them to her father’s house. And this was done, and Aida unen returned to her parents.That night the king’s third wife, who was a friend of Adia unen’s, talked the whole matter over with the king, and explained to him that it was entirely owing to the jealousy of his head wife that Adia unen had been disgraced. She also told him that the whole thing had been arranged beforehand in order that the king should get rid of Adia unen, of whom all the other wives were jealous. When the king heard this he was very angry, and made up his mind to send the jealous woman back to her parents empty-handed, without her clothes and presents. When she arrived at her father’s house the parents refused to take her in, as she had been given as a wife to the king, and whenever the parents wanted anything, they could always get it at the palace. It was therefore a great loss to them. She was thus turned into the streets, and walked about very miserable, and after a time died, very poor and starving.The king grieved so much at having been compelled to send his favourite wife Adia unen away, that he died the following year. And when the people saw that their king had died of a broken heart, they passed a law that for the future no one should marry any bird or animal.
Once upon a time there was a man named Du Dsi Tschun. In his youth he was a spendthrift and paid no heed to his property. He was given to drink and idling. When he had run through all his money, his relatives cast him out. One winter day he was walking barefoot about the city, with an empty stomach and torn clothes. Evening came on and still he had not found any food. Without end or aim he wandered about the market place. He was hungry, and the cold seemed well nigh unendurable. So he turned his eyes upward and began to lament aloud.Suddenly an ancient man stood before him, leaning on a staff, who said: “What do you lack since you complain so?”“I am dying of hunger,” replied Du Dsi Tschun, “and not a soul will take pity on me!”The ancient man said: “How much money would you need in order to live in all comfort?”“If I had fifty thousand pieces of copper it would answer my purpose,” replied Du Dsi Tschun.The ancient said: “That would not answer.”“Well, then, a million!”“That is still too little!”“Well, then, three million!”The ancient man said: “That is well spoken!” He fetched a thousand pieces of copper out of his sleeve and said: “That is for this evening. Expect me to-morrow by noon, at the Persian Bazaar!”At the time set Du Dsi Tschun went there, and, sure enough, there was the ancient, who gave him three million pieces of copper. Then he disappeared, without giving his name.When Du Dsi Tschun held the money in his hand, his love for prodigality once more awoke. He rode pampered steeds, clothed himself in the finest furs, went back to his wine, and led such an extravagant life that the money gradually came to an end. Instead of wearing brocade he had to wear cotton, and instead of riding horseback he went to the dogs. Finally he was again running about barefoot and in rags as before, and did not know how to satisfy his hunger. Once more he stood in the market-place and sighed. But the ancient was already there, took him by the hand and said: “Are you back already to where you were? That is strange! However, I will aid you once more!”But Du Dsi Tschun was ashamed and did not want to accept his help. Yet the ancient insisted, and led him along to the Persian Bazaar. This time he gave him ten million pieces of copper, and Du Dsi Tschun thanked him with shame in his heart.With money in hand, he tried to give time to adding to it, and saving in order to gain great wealth. But, as is always the case, it is hard to overcome ingrown faults. Gradually he began to fling his money away again, and gave free rein to all his desires. And once more his purse grew empty. In a couple of years he was as poor as ever he had been.Then he met the ancient the third time, but was so ashamed of himself that he hid his face when he passed him.The ancient seized his arm and said: “Where are you going? I will help you once more. I will give you thirty million. But if then you do not improve you are past all aid!”Full of gratitude, Du Dsi Tschun bowed before him and said: “In the days of my poverty my wealthy relatives did not seek me out. You alone have thrice aided me. The money you give me to-day shall not be squandered, that I swear; but I will devote it to good works in order to repay your great kindness. And when I have done this I will follow you, if needs be through fire and through water.”The ancient replied: “That is right! When you have ordered these things ask for me in the temple of Laotsze beneath the two mulberry trees!”Du Dsi Tschun took the money and went to Yangdschou. There he bought a hundred acres of the best land, and built a lofty house with many hundreds of rooms on the highway. And there he allowed widows and orphans to live. Then he bought a burial-place for his ancestors, and supported his needy relations. Countless people were indebted to him for their livelihood.When all was finished, he went to inquire after the ancient in the temple of Laotsze. The ancient was sitting in the shade of the mulberry trees blowing the flute. He took Du Dsi Tschun along with him to the cloudy peaks of the holy mountains of the West. When they had gone some forty miles into the mountains, he saw a dwelling, fair and clean. It was surrounded by many-colored clouds, and peacocks and cranes were flying about it. Within the house was a herb-oven nine feet high. The fire burned with a purple flame, and its glow leaped along the walls. Nine fairies stood at the oven, and a green dragon and a white tiger crouched beside it. Evening came. The ancient was no longer clad like an ordinary man; but wore a yellow cap and wide, flowing garments. He took three pellets of the White Stone, put them into a flagon of wine, and gave them to Du Dsi Tschun to drink. He spread out a tiger-skin against the western wall of the inner chamber, and bade Du Dsi Tschun sit down on it, with his face turned toward the East. Then he said to him: “Now beware of speaking a single word—no matter what happens to you, whether you encounter powerful gods or terrible demons, wild beasts or ogres, or all the tortures of the nether world, or even if you see your own relatives suffer—for all these things are only deceitful images! They cannot harm you. Think only of what I have said, and let your soul be at rest!” And when he had said this the ancient disappeared.Then Du Dsi Tschun saw only a large stone jug full of clear water standing before him. Fairies, dragon and tiger had all vanished. Suddenly he heard a tremendous crash, which made heaven and earth tremble. A man towering more than ten feet in height appeared. He called himself the great captain, and he and his horse were covered with golden armor. He was surrounded by more than a hundred soldiers, who drew their bows and swung their swords, and halted in the courtyard.The giant called out harshly: “Who are you? Get out of my way!”Du Dsi Tschun did not move. And he returned no answer to his questions.Then the giant flew into a passion and cried with a thundering voice: “Chop off his head!”But Du Dsi Tschun remained unmoved, so the giant went off raging.Then a furious tiger and a poisonous serpent came up roaring and hissing. They made as though to bite him and leaped over him. But Du Dsi Tschun remained unperturbed in spirit, and after a time they dissolved and vanished.Suddenly a great rain began to fall in streams. It thundered and lightninged incessantly, so that his ears rang and his eyes were blinded. It seemed as though the house would fall. The water rose to a flood in a few moments’ time, and streamed up to the place where he was sitting. But Du Dsi Tschun remained motionless and paid no attention to it. And after a time the water receded.Then came a great demon with the head of an ox. He set up a kettle in the middle of the courtyard, in which bubbled boiling oil. He caught Du Dsi Tschun by the neck with an iron fork and said: “If you will tell me who you are I will let you go!”Du Dsi Tschun shut his eyes and kept silent. Then the demon picked him up with the fork and flung him into the kettle. He withstood the pain, and the boiling oil did not harm him. Finally the demon dragged him out again, and drew him down the steps of the house before a man with red hair and a blue face, who looked like the prince of the nether world. The latter cried: “Drag in his wife!”After a time Du Dsi Tschun’s wife was brought on in chains. Her hair was torn and she wept bitterly.The demon pointed to Du Dsi Tschun and said: “If you will speak your name we will let her go!”But he answered not a word.Then the prince of evil had the woman tormented in all sorts of ways. And she pleaded with Du Dsi Tschun: “I have been your wife now for ten years. Will you not speak one little word to save me? I can endure no more!” And the tears ran in streams from her eyes. She screamed and scolded. Yet he spoke not a word.Thereupon the prince of evil shouted: “Chop her into bits!” And there, before his eyes, it seemed as though she were really being chopped to pieces. But Du Dsi Tschun did not move.“The scoundrel’s measure is full!” cried the prince of evil. “He shall dwell no longer among the living! Off with his head!” And so they killed him, and it seemed to him that his soul fled his body. The ox-headed demon dragged him down into the nether regions, where he tasted all the tortures in turn. But Du Dsi Tschun remembered the words of the ancient. And the tortures, too, seemed bearable. So he did not scream and said not a word.Now he was once more dragged before the prince of evil. The latter said: “As punishment for his obstinacy this man shall come to earth again in the shape of a woman!”The demon dragged him to the wheel of life and he returned to earth in the shape of a girl. He was often ill, had to take medicine continually, and was pricked and burned with hot needles. Yet he never uttered a sound. Gradually he grew into a beautiful maiden. But since he never spoke, he was known as the dumb maid. A scholar finally took him for his bride, and they lived in peace and good fellowship. And a son came to them who, in the course of two years was already beyond measure wise and intelligent. One day the father was carrying the son on his arm. He spoke jestingly to his wife and said: “When I look at you it seems to me that you are not really dumb. Won’t you say one little word to me? How delightful it would be if you were to become my speaking rose!”The woman remained silent. No matter how he might coax and try to make her smile, she would return no answer.Then his features changed: “If you will not speak to me, it is a sign that you scorn me; and in that case your son is nothing to me, either!” And with that he seized the boy and flung him against the wall.But since Du Dsi Tschun loved this little boy so dearly, he forgot the ancient’s warning, and cried out: “Oh, oh!”And before the cry had died away Du Dsi Tschun awoke as though from a dream and found himself seated in his former place. The ancient was there as well. It must have been about the fifth hour of the night. Purple flames rose wildly from the oven, and flared up to the sky. The whole house caught fire and burned like a torch.“You have deceived me!” cried the ancient. Then he seized him by the hair and thrust him into the jug of water. And in a minute the fire went out. The ancient spoke: “You overcame joy and rage, grief and fear, hate and desire, it is true; but love you had not driven from your soul. Had you not cried out when the child was flung against the wall, then my elixir would have taken shape and you would have attained immortality. But in the last moment you failed me. Now it is too late. Now I can begin brewing my elixir of life once more from the beginning and you will remain a mere mortal man!”Du Dsi Tschun saw that the oven had burst, and that instead of the philosopher’s stone it held only a lump of iron. The ancient man cast aside his garments and chopped it up with a magic knife. Du Dsi Tschun took leave of him and returned to Yangdschou, where he lived in great affluence. In his old age he regretted that he had not completed his task. He once more went to the mountain to look for the ancient. But the ancient had vanished without leaving a trace.Note: The “pieces of copper” are the ancient Chinese copper coins, with a hole in the middle, usually hung on strings to the number of 500 or 1000. Money had a greater purchasing value in ancient China, however, than in the China of to-day. The “Persian Bazaar”: During the reign of the Tang dynasty China maintained an active intercourse with the West, traces of which are at present being investigated in Central Asia. At that time Persian bazaars were no novelty in the city of Si-An-Fu, then the capital. “Herb-oven”: a tripod kettle used for brewing the elixir of life, with which the fairies, dragon and tiger (both the last-mentioned star-incarnations) are connected. In order to prepare the elixir the master must have absolute endurance. It is for this reason that he had placed Du Dsi Tschun in his debt by means of kindness. The yellow cap which the master wears is connected with the teachings of the Yellow Ancient (comp. w. No. 15). The “prince of the nether world,” Yan Wang, or Yan Lo Wang, is the Indian god Yama. There are in all ten princes of the nether world, of whom the fifth is the highest and most feared. “Obstinacy,” literally; his real offense is reticence, or the keeping secret of a thing. This quality belongs to the Yin, the dark or feminine principle, and determines Du Dsi Tschun’s reappearance on earth as a woman. “Purple flames rose wildly from the oven”: Though Du Dsi Tschun had overcome his other emotions, so that fear and terror did not affect him, love, and love in its highest form, mother-love, still remained in him. This love created the flames which threatened to destroy the building. The highest point in Taoism—as in Buddhism—is, however, the absolute negation of all feeling.
Thomas, of Ercildoun, in Lauderdale, called the Rhymer, on account of his producing a poetical romance on the subject of Tristrem and Yseult, which is curious as the earliest specimen of English verse known to exist, flourished in the reign of Alexander III. of Scotland. Like other men of talent of the period, Thomas was suspected of magic. He was also said to have the gift of prophecy, which was accounted for in the following peculiar manner, referring entirely to the Elfin superstition.“He saw a lady so extremely beautiful that he imagined she must be the Virgin Mary herself.” Illustration by A.G. Walker. Published in A Book of Ballad Stories. Publication date unknown. Gardner, Darton and Co.As Thomas lay on Huntly Bank (a place on the descent of the Eildon Hills, which raise their triple crest above the celebrated monastery of Melrose), he saw a lady so extremely beautiful that he imagined she must be the Virgin Mary herself. Her appointments, however, were those rather of an amazon, or goddess of the woods. Her steed was of the highest beauty, and at its mane hung thirty silver bells and nine, which were music to the wind as she paced along. Her saddle was of “royal bone” (ivory), laid over with “orfeverie” (goldsmith’s work). Her stirrups, her dress, all corresponded with her extreme beauty and the magnificence of her array. The fair huntress had her bow in hand, and her arrows at her belt. She led three greyhounds in a leash, and three hounds of scent followed her closely.She rejected and disclaimed the homage which Thomas desired to pay her; so that, passing from one extremity to the other, Thomas became as bold as he had at first been humble. The lady warned him he must become her slave if he wished to prosecute his suit. Before their interview terminated, the appearance of the beautiful lady was changed into that of the most hideous hag in existence. A witch from the spital or almshouse would have been a goddess in comparison to the late beautiful huntress. Hideous as she was, Thomas felt that he had placed himself in the power of this hag, and when she bade him take leave of the sun, and of the leaf that grew on the tree, he felt himself under the necessity of obeying her. A cavern received them, in which, following his frightful guide, he for three days travelled in darkness, sometimes hearing the booming of a distant ocean, sometimes walking through rivers of blood, which crossed their subterranean path. At length they emerged into daylight, in a most beautiful orchard. Thomas, almost fainting for want of food, stretched out his hand towards the goodly fruit which hung around him, but was forbidden by his conductress, who informed him that these were the fatal apples which were the cause of the fall of man. He perceived also that his guide had no sooner entered this mysterious ground and breathed its magic air than she was revived in beauty, equipage, and splendour, as fair or fairer than he had first seen her on the mountain. She then proceeded to explain to him the character of the country.“Yonder right-hand path,” she says, “conveys the spirits of the blest to paradise. Yon downward and well-worn way leads sinful souls to the place of everlasting punishment. The third road, by yonder dark brake, conducts to the milder place of pain, from which prayer and mass may release offenders. But see you yet a fourth road, sweeping along the plain to yonder splendid castle? Yonder is the road to Elfland, to which we are now bound. The lord of the castle is king of the country, and I am his queen; and when we enter yonder castle, you must observe strict silence, and answer no question that is asked you, and I will account for your silence by saying I took your speech when I brought you from middle earth.”Having thus instructed him, they journeyed on to the castle, and, entering by the kitchen, found themselves in the midst of such a festive scene as might become the mansion of a great feudal lord or prince.Thirty carcasses of deer were lying on the massive kitchen board, under the hands of numerous cooks, who toiled to cut them up and dress them, while the gigantic greyhounds which had taken the spoil lay lapping the blood, and enjoying the sight of the slain game. They came next to the royal hall, where the king received his loving consort; knights and ladies, dancing by threes, occupied the floor of the hall; and Thomas, the fatigue of his journey from the Eildon Hills forgotten, went forward and joined in the revelry. After a period, however, which seemed to him a very short one, the queen spoke with him apart, and bade him prepare to return to his own country.“Now,” said the queen, “how long think you that you have been here?”“Certes, fair lady,” answered Thomas, “not above these seven days.”“You are deceived,” answered the queen; “you have been seven years in this castle, and it is full time you were gone. Know, Thomas, that the archfiend will come to this castle to-morrow to demand his tribute, and so handsome a man as you will attract his eye. For all the world would I not suffer you to be betrayed to such a fate; therefore up, and let us be going.”This terrible news reconciled Thomas to his departure from Elfinland; and the queen was not long in placing him upon Huntly Bank, where the birds were singing. She took leave of him, and to ensure his reputation bestowed on him the tongue which could not lie. Thomas in vain objected to this inconvenient and involuntary adhesion to veracity, which would make him, as he thought, unfit for church or for market, for king’s court or for lady’s bower. But all his remonstrances were disregarded by the lady; and Thomas the Rhymer, whenever the discourse turned on the future, gained the credit of a prophet whether he would or not, for he could say nothing but what was sure to come to pass.Thomas remained several years in his own tower near Ercildoun, and enjoyed the fame of his predictions, several of which are current among the country people to this day. At length, as the prophet was entertaining the Earl of March in his dwelling, a cry of astonishment arose in the village, on the appearance of a hart and hind, which left the forest, and, contrary to their shy nature, came quietly onward, traversing the village towards the dwelling of Thomas. The prophet instantly rose from the board, and acknowledging the prodigy as the summons of his fate, he accompanied the hart and hind into the forest, and though occasionally seen by individuals to whom he has chosen to show himself, he has never again mixed familiarly with mankind.
Behind the New Grand Hotel, in the Catskills, is an amphitheatre of mountain that is held to be the place of which the Mohicans spoke when they told of people there who worked in metals, and had bushy beards and eyes like pigs. From the smoke of their forges, in autumn, came the haze of Indian summer; and when the moon was full, it was their custom to assemble on the edge of a precipice above the hollow and dance and caper until the night was nigh worn away. They brewed a liquor that had the effect of shortening the bodies and swelling the heads of all who drank it, and when Hudson and his crew visited the mountains, the pygmies held a carouse in his honor and invited him to drink their liquor. The crew went away, shrunken and distorted by the magic distillation, and thus it was that Rip Van Winkle found them on the eve of his famous sleep.
Once there was a king called King Dantal, who had a great many rupees and soldiers and horses. He had also an only son called Prince Majnun, who was a handsome boy with white teeth, red lips, blue eyes, red cheeks, red hair, and a white skin. This boy was very fond of playing with the Wazir’s son, Husain Mahamat, in King Dantal’s garden, which was very large and full of delicious fruits, and flowers, and trees. They used to take their little knives there and cut the fruits and eat them. King Dantal had a teacher for them to teach them to read and write.One day, when they were grown two fine young men, Prince Majnun said to his father, “Husain Mahamat and I should like to go and hunt.” His father said they might go, so they got ready their horses and all else they wanted for their hunting, and went to the Phalana country, hunting all the way, but they only founds jackals and birds.The Raja of the Phalana country was called Munsuk Raja, and he had a daughter named Laili, who was very beautiful; she had brown eyes and black hair.One night, some time before Prince Majnun came to her father’s kingdom, as she slept, Khuda sent to her an angel in the form of a man who told her that she should marry Prince Majnun and no one else, and that this was Khuda’s command to her. When Laili woke she told her father of the angel’s visit to her as she slept; but her father paid no attention to her story. From that time she began repeating, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun,” and would say nothing else. Even as she sat and ate her food she kept saying, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.” Her father used to get quite vexed with her. “Who is this Majnun? who ever heard of this Majnun?” he would say.“He is the man I am to marry,” said Laili. “Khuda has ordered me to marry no one but Majnun.” And she was half mad.Meanwhile, Majnun and Husain Mahamat came to hunt in the Phalana country; and as they were riding about, Laili came out on her horse to eat the air, and rode behind them. All the time she kept saying, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.” The prince heard her, and turned round. “Who is calling me?” he asked. At this Laili looked at him, and the moment she saw him she fell deeply in love with him, and she said to herself, “I am sure that is the Prince Majnun that Khuda says I am to marry.” And she went home to her father and said, “Father, I wish to marry the prince who has come to your kingdom; for I know he is the Prince Majnun I am to marry.”“Very well, you shall have him for your husband,” said Munsuk Raja. “We will ask him to-morrow.” Laili consented to wait, although she was very impatient. As it happened, the prince left the Phalana kingdom that night, and when Laili heard he was gone, she went quite mad. She would not listen to a word her father, or her mother, or her servants said to her, but went off into the jungle, and wandered from jungle to jungle, till she got farther and farther away from her own country. All the time she kept saying, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun;” and so she wandered about for twelve years.At the end of the twelve years she met a fakir—he was really an angel, but she did not know this—who asked her, “Why do you always say, ‘Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun’?” She answered, “I am the daughter of the king of the Phalana country, and I want to find Prince Majnun; tell me where his kingdom is.”“I think you will never get there,” said the fakir, “for it is very far from hence, and you have to cross many rivers to reach it.” But Laili said she did not care; she must see Prince Majnun. “Well,” said the fakir, “when you come to the Bhagirathi river you will see a big fish, a Rohu; and you must get him to carry you to Prince Majnun’s country, or you will never reach it.”She went on and on, and at last she came to the Bhagirathi river. There was a great big fish called the Rohu fish. It was yawning just as she got up to it, and she instantly jumped down its throat into its stomach. All the time she kept saying, “Majnun, Majnun.” At this the Rohu fish was greatly alarmed and swam down the river as fast as he could. By degrees he got tired and went slower, and a crow came and perched on his back, and said “Caw, caw.” “Oh, Mr. Crow,” said the poor fish “do see what is in my stomach that makes such a noise.”“Very well,” said the crow, “open your mouth wide, and I’ll fly down and see.”So the Rohu opened his jaws and the crow flew down, but he came up again very quickly. “You have a Rakshas in your stomach,” said the crow, and he flew away.This news did not comfort the poor Rohu, and he swam on and on till he came to Prince Majnun’s country. There he stopped. And a jackal came down to the river to drink. “Oh, jackal,” said the Rohu “do tell me what I have inside me.”“How can I tell?” said the jackal. “I cannot see unless I go inside you.” So the Rohu opened his mouth wide, and the jackal jumped down his throat; but he came up very quickly, looking much frightened and saying, “You have a Rakshas in your stomach, and if I don’t run away quickly, I am afraid it will eat me.” So off he ran. After the jackal came an enormous snake. “Oh,” says the fish, “do tell me what I have in my stomach, for it rattles about so, and keeps saying, ‘Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.'”The snake said, “Open your mouth wide, and I’ll go down and see what it is.” The snake went down: when he returned he said, “You have a Rakshas in your stomach, but if you will let me cut you open, it will come out of you.” “If you do that, I shall die,” said the Rohu. “Oh, no,” said the snake, “you will not, for I will give you a medicine that will make you quite well again.” So the fish agreed, and the snake got a knife and cut him open, and out jumped Laili.She was now very old. Twelve years she had wandered about the jungle, and for twelve years she had lived inside her Rohu; and she was no longer beautiful, and had lost her teeth. The snake took her on his back and carried her into the country, and there he put her down, and she wandered on and on till she got to Majnun’s court-house, where King Majnun was sitting. There some men heard her crying, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun,” and they asked her what she wanted. “I want King Majnun,” she said.So they went in and said to Prince Majnun, “An old woman outside says she wants you.” “I cannot leave this place,” said he; “send her in here.” They brought her in and the prince asked her what she wanted. “I want to marry you,” she answered. “Twenty-four years ago you came to my father the Phalana Raja’s country, and I wanted to marry you then; but you went away without marrying me. Then I went mad, and I have wandered about all these years looking for you.” Prince Majnun said, “Very good.”“Pray to Khuda,” said Laili, “to make us both young again, and then we shall be married.” So the prince prayed to Khuda, and Khuda said to him, “Touch Laili’s clothes and they will catch fire, and when they are on fire, she and you will become young again.” When he touched Laili’s clothes they caught fire, and she and he became young again. And there were great feasts, and they were married, and travelled to the Phalana country to see her father and mother.Now Laili’s father and mother had wept so much for their daughter that they had become quite blind, and her father kept always repeating, “Laili, Laili, Laili.” When Laili saw their blindness, she prayed to Khuda to restore their sight to them, which he did. As soon as the father and mother saw Laili, they hugged her and kissed her, and then they had the wedding all over again amid great rejoicings. Prince Majnum and Laili stayed with Munsuk Raja and his wife for three years, and then they returned to King Dantal, and lived happily for some time with him. They used to go out hunting, and they often went from country to country to eat the air and amuse themselves.One day Prince Majnun said to Laili, “Let us go through this jungle.” “No, no,” said Laili; “if we go through this jungle, some harm will happen to me.” But Prince Majnun laughed, and went into the jungle. And as they were going through it, Khuda thought, “I should like to know how much Prince Majnun loves his wife. Would he be very sorry if she died? And would he marry another wife? I will see.” So he sent one of his angels in the form of a fakir into the jungle; and the angel went up to Laili, and threw some powder in her face, and instantly she fell to the ground a heap of ashes.Prince Majnun was in great sorrow and grief when he saw his dear Laili turned into a little heap of ashes; and he went straight home to his father, and for a long, long time he would not be comforted. After a great many years he grew more cheerful and happy, and began to go again into his father’s beautiful garden with Husain Mahamat. King Dantal wished his son to marry again. “I will only have Laili for my wife; I will not marry any other woman,” said Prince Majnun.“How can you marry Laili? Laili is dead. She will never come back to you,” said the father. “Then I’ll not have any wife at all,” said Prince Majnun.Meanwhile Laili was living in the jungle where her husband had left her a little heap of ashes. As soon as Majnun had gone, the fakir had taken her ashes and made them quite clean, and then he had mixed clay and water with the ashes, and made the figure of a woman with them, and so Laili regained her human form, and Khuda sent life into it. But Laili had become once more a hideous old woman, with a long, long nose, and teeth like tusks; just such an old woman, excepting her teeth, as she had been when she came out of the Rohu fish; and she lived in the jungle, and neither ate nor drank, and she kept on saying, “Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun.”At last the angel who had come as a fakir and thrown the powder at her, said to Khuda, “Of what use is it that this woman should sit in the jungle crying, crying for ever, ‘Majnun, Majnun; I want Majnun,’ and eating and drinking nothing? Let me take her to Prince Majnun.” “Well,” said Khuda, “you may do so; but tell her that she must not speak to Majnun if he is afraid of her when he sees her; and that if he is afraid when he sees her, she will become a little white dog the next day. Then she must go to the palace, and she will only regain her human shape when Prince Majnun loves her, feeds her with his own food, and lets her sleep in his bed.”So the angel came to Laili again as a fakir and carried her to King Dantal’s garden. “Now,” he said, “it is Khuda’s command that you stay here till Prince Majnun comes to walk in the garden, and then you may show yourself to him. But you must not speak to him, if he is afraid of you; and should he be afraid of you, you will the next day become a little white dog.” He then told her what she must do as a little dog to regain her human form.Laili stayed in the garden, hidden in the tall grass, till Prince Majnun and Husain Mahamat came to walk in the garden. King Dantal was now a very old man, and Husain Mahamat, though he was really only as old as Prince Majnun, looked a great deal older than the prince, who had been made quite young again when he married Laili.As Prince Majnun and the Wazir’s son walked in the garden, they gathered the fruit as they had done as little children, only they bit the fruit with their teeth; they did not cut it. While Majnun was busy eating a fruit in this way, and was talking to Husain Mahamat, he turned towards him and saw Laili walking behind the Wazir’s son.“Oh, look, look!” he cried, “see what is following you; it is a Rakshas or a demon, and I am sure it is going to eat us.” Laili looked at him beseechingly with all her eyes, and trembled with age and eagerness; but this only frightened Majnun the more. “It is a Rakshas, a Rakshas!” he cried, and he ran quickly to the palace with the Wazir’s son; and as they ran away, Laili disappeared into the jungle. They ran to King Dantal, and Majnun told him there was a Rakshas or a demon in the garden that had come to eat them.“What nonsense,” said his father. “Fancy two grown men being so frightened by an old ayah or a fakir! And if it had been a Rakshas, it would not have eaten you.” Indeed King Dantal did not believe Majnun had seen anything at all, till Husain Mahamat said the prince was speaking the exact truth. They had the garden searched for the terrible old woman, but found nothing, and King Dantal told his son he was very silly to be so much frightened. However, Prince Majnun would not walk in the garden any more.The next day Laili turned into a pretty little dog; and in this shape she came into the palace, where Prince Majnun soon became very fond of her. She followed him everywhere, went with him when he was out hunting, and helped him to catch his game, and Prince Majnun fed her with milk, or bread, or anything else he was eating, and at night the little dog slept in his bed.But one night the little dog disappeared, and in its stead there lay the little old woman who had frightened him so much in the garden; and now Prince Majnun was quite sure she was a Rakshas, or a demon, or some such horrible thing come to eat him; and in his terror he cried out, “What do you want? Oh, do not eat me; do not eat me!” Poor Laili answered, “Don’t you know me? I am your wife Laili, and I want to marry you. Don’t you remember how you would go through that jungle, though I begged and begged you not to go, for I told you that harm would happen to me, and then a fakir came and threw powder in my face, and I became a heap of ashes. But Khuda gave me my life again, and brought me here, after I had stayed a long, long while in the jungle crying for you, and now I am obliged to be a little dog; but if you will marry me, I shall not be a little dog any more.” Majnun, however, said “How can I marry an old woman like you? how can you be Laili? I am sure you are a Rakshas or a demon come to eat me,” and he was in great terror.In the morning the old woman had turned into the little dog, and the prince went to his father and told him all that had happened. “An old woman! an old woman! always an old woman!” said his father. “You do nothing but think of old women. How can a strong man like you be so easily frightened?” However, when he saw that his son was really in great terror, and that he really believed the old woman would came back at night, he advised him to say to her, “I will marry you if you can make yourself a young girl again. How can I marry such an old woman as you are?”That night as he lay trembling in bed the little old woman lay there in place of the dog, crying “Majnun, Majnun, I want to marry you. I have loved you all these long, long years. When I was in my father’s kingdom a young girl, I knew of you, though you knew nothing of me, and we should have been married then if you had not gone away so suddenly, and for long, long years I followed you.”“Well,” said Majnun, “if you can make yourself a young girl again, I will marry you.”Laili said, “Oh, that is quite easy. Khuda will make me a young girl again. In two days’ time you must go into the garden, and there you will see a beautiful fruit. You must gather it and bring it into your room and cut it open yourself very gently, and you must not open it when your father or anybody else is with you, but when you are quite alone; for I shall be in the fruit quite naked, without any clothes at all on.” In the morning Laili took her little dog’s form, and disappeared in the garden.Prince Majnun told all this to his father, who told him to do all the old woman had bidden him. In two days’ time he and the Wazir’s son walked in the garden, and there they saw a large, lovely red fruit. “Oh!” said the Prince, “I wonder shall I find my wife in that fruit.” Husain Mahamat wanted him to gather it and see, but he would not till he had told his father, who said, “That must be the fruit; go and gather it.” So Majnun went back and broke the fruit off its stalk; and he said to his father, “Come with me to my room while I open it; I am afraid to open it alone, for perhaps I shall find a Rakshas in it that will eat me.”“No,” said King Dantal; “remember, Laili will be naked; you must go alone and do not be afraid if, after all, a Rakshas is in the fruit, for I will stay outside the door, and you have only to call me with a loud voice, and I will come to you, so the Rakshas will not be able to eat you.”Then Majnun took the fruit and began to cut it open tremblingly, for he shook with fear; and when he had cut it, out stepped Laili, young and far more beautiful than she had ever been. At the sight of her extreme beauty, Majnun fell backwards fainting on the floor.Laili took off his turban and wound it all round herself like a sari (for she had no clothes at all on), and then she called King Dantal, and said to him sadly, “Why has Majnun fallen down like this? Why will he not speak to me? He never used to be afraid of me; and he has seen me so many, many times.”King Dantal answered, “It is because you are so beautiful. You are far, far more beautiful than you ever were. But he will be very happy directly.” Then the King got some water, and they bathed Majnun’s face and gave him some to drink, and he sat up again.Then Laili said, “Why did you faint? Did you not see I am Laili?”“Oh!” said Prince Majnun, “I see you are Laili come back to me, but your eyes have grown so wonderfully beautiful, that I fainted when I saw them.” Then they were all very happy, and King Dantal had all the drums in the place beaten, and had all the musical instruments played on, and they made a grand wedding-feast, and gave presents to the servants, and rice and quantities of rupees to the fakirs.After some time had passed very happily, Prince Majnun and his wife went out to eat the air. They rode on the same horse, and had only a groom with them. They came to another kingdom, to a beautiful garden. “We must go into that garden and see it,” said Majnun.“No, no,” said Laili; “it belongs to a bad Raja, Chumman Basa, a very wicked man.” But Majnun insisted on going in, and in spite of all Laili could say, he got off the horse to look at the flowers. Now, as he was looking at the flowers, Laili saw Chumman Basa coming towards them, and she read in his eyes that he meant to kill her husband and seize her. So she said to Majnun, “Come, come, let us go; do not go near that bad man. I see in his eyes, and I feel in my heart, that he will kill you to seize me.”“What nonsense,” said Majnun. “I believe he is a very good Raja.Anyhow, I am so near to him that I could not get away.”“Well,” said Laili, “it is better that you should be killed than I, for if I were to be killed a second time, Khuda would not give me my life again; but I can bring you to life if you are killed.” Now Chumman Basa had come quite near, and seemed very pleasant, so thought Prince Majnun; but when he was speaking to Majnun, he drew his scimitar and cut off the prince’s head at one blow.Laili sat quite still on her horse, and as the Raja came towards her she said, “Why did you kill my husband?”“Because I want to take you,” he answered.“You cannot,” said Laili.“Yes, I can,” said the Raja.“Take me, then,” said Laili to Chumman Basa; so he came quite close and put out his hand to take hers to lift her off her horse. But she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a tiny knife, only as long as her hand was broad, and this knife unfolded itself in one instant till it was such a length! and then Laili made a great sweep with her arm and her long, long knife, and off came Chumman Basa’s head at one touch.Then Laili slipped down off her horse, and she went to Majnun’s dead body, and she cut her little finger inside her hand straight down from the top of her nail to her palm, and out of this gushed blood like healing medicine. Then she put Majnun’s head on his shoulders, and smeared her healing blood all over the wound, and Majnun woke up and said, “What a delightful sleep I have had! Why, I feel as if I had slept for years!” Then he got up and saw the Raja’s dead body by Laili’s horse.“What’s that?” said Majnun.“That is the wicked Raja who killed you to seize me, just as I said he would.”“Who killed him?” asked Majnun.“I did,” answered Laili, “and it was I who brought you to life.”“Do bring the poor man to life if you know how to do so,” said Majnun.“No,” said Laili, “for he is a wicked man, and will try to do you harm.” But Majnun asked her for such a long time, and so earnestly to bring the wicked Raja to life, that at least she said, “Jump up on the horse, then, and go far away with the groom.”“What will you do,” said Majnun, “if I leave you? I cannot leave you.”“I will take care of myself,” said Laili; “but this man is so wicked, he may kill you again if you are near him.” So Majnun got up on the horse, and he and the groom went a long way off and waited for Laili. Then she set the wicked Raja’s head straight on his shoulders, and she squeezed the wound in her finger till a little blood-medicine came out of it. Then she smeared this over the place where her knife had passed, and just as she saw the Raja opening his eyes, she began to run, and she ran, and ran so fast, that she outran the Raja, who tried to catch her; and she sprang up on the horse behind her husband, and they rode so fast, so fast, till they reached King Dantal’s palace.There Prince Majnun told everything to his father, who was horrified and angry. “How lucky for you that you have such a wife,” he said. “Why did you not do what she told you? But for her, you would be now dead.” Then he made a great feast out of gratitude for his son’s safety, and gave many, many rupees to the fakirs. And he made so much of Laili. He loved her dearly; he could not do enough for her. Then he built a splendid palace for her and his son, with a great deal of ground about it, and lovely gardens, and gave them great wealth, and heaps of servants to wait on them. But he would not allow any but their servants to enter their gardens and palace, and he would not allow Majnun to go out of them, nor Laili; “for,” said King Dantal, “Laili is so beautiful, that perhaps some one may kill my son to take her away.”
In the principal street there stood a fine old-fashioned house; the wall about the court-yard had bits of glass worked into it, so that when the sun or moon shone, it was as if covered with diamonds. That was a sign of wealth, and there was wealth inside there; folks said that the merchant was a man who could just put away two barrels of gold in his best parlor; yes, could put a heap of gold-pieces, as a savings bank against the future, outside the door of the room where his little son was born.This little fellow had arrived in the rich house. There was great joy from cellar up to the garret; and up there, there was still greater joy an hour or two afterward. The warehouseman and his wife lived up there, and here too there entered just then a little son, given by our Lord, brought by the stork, and exhibited by the mother. And here too there was a heap outside the door, quite accidentally; but it was not a gold-heap—it was a heap of sweepings.The rich merchant was a very considerate, good man; his wife, delicate and gentle-born, dressed well, was pious, and, besides, was kind and good to the poor. Everybody congratulated these two people on now having a little son, who would grow up, and, like his father, be rich and happy. At the font the little boy was called “FELIX,” which means in Latin “lucky,” and that he was, and his parents still more.The warehouseman, a right sound fellow, and good to the bottom of his heart, and his wife, an honest and industrious woman, were blessed by all who knew them; how lucky they were at getting their little boy, and he was called “PEER!”The boy on the first floor and the boy in the garret each got just as many kisses from his parents, and just as much sunshine from our Lord; but still they were placed a little differently,—one down-stairs, and one up. Peer sat the highest, away up in the garret, and he had his own mother for a nurse; little Felix had a stranger for his nurse, but she was a good and honest girl—you could see that in her character-book. The rich child had a pretty little wagon, and was drawn about by his spruce nurse; the child from the garret was carried in the arms of his own mother, both when he was in his Sunday clothes, and when he had his every-day things on; and he was just as much pleased.They were both pretty children, they both kept growing, and soon could show with their hands how tall they were, and say single words in their mother tongue. Equally sweet, equally dainty and petted were they both. As they grew up they had a like pleasure out of the merchant’s horses and carriages. Felix got permission from his nurse to sit by the coachman and look at the horses; he fancied himself driving. Peer got permission to sit at the garret window and look down into the yard when the master and mistress went out to drive, and when they were fairly gone, he placed two chairs, one in front, the other behind, up there in the room, and so he drove himself; he was the real coachman— that was a little more than fancying himself to be the coachman.They had noticed each other, these two, but it was not until they were two years old that they spoke to each other. Felix went elegantly dressed in silk and velvet, with bare knees, after the English style. “The poor child will freeze!” said the family in the garret. Peer had trousers that came down to his ankles, but one day his clothes were torn right across his knees, so that he had as much of a draught, and was just as much undressed as the merchant’s little delicate boy. Felix came with his mother and wanted to go out; Peer came with his, and wanted to go in.“Give little Peer your hand,” said the merchant’s lady. “You two can talk to each other.”And one said “Peer!” and the other said “Felix!” Yes, that was all they said that time.The rich lady petted her boy, but there was one who petted Peer just as much, and that was his grandmother. She was weak-sighted, and yet she saw much more in little Peer than his father or mother could see; yes, more than anybody at all could discover.“The dear child,” said she, “is going to get on in the world. He is born with a gold apple in his hand. There is the shining apple!” And she kissed the child’s little hand. His parents could see nothing, nor Peer either, but as he grew to know more, no doubt he would find that out too.“That is such a story, such a real wonder-story, that grandmother tells!” said the parents.Indeed grandmother could tell stories, and Peer was never tired of hearing always the same ones. She taught him a psalm and to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, and he knew it not as a gabble but as words which meant some-thing; every single petition in it she explained to him. Especially he thought about what grandmother said on the words: “Give us this day our daily bread;” he was to understand that it was necessary for one to get wheat bread, for another to get black bread; one must have a great house when he had a great deal of company; another, in small circumstances, could live quite as happily in a little room in the garret. “So each person has what he calls ‘daily bread.’”Peer had regularly his good daily bread, and very delightful days, too, but they were not to last always. Stern years of war began; the young were to go away, the old to stay at home. Peer’s father was among those who were enrolled, and soon it was heard that he was one of the first who fell in battle against the victorious enemy.There was terrible grief in the little room in the garret. The mother cried, the grandmother and little Peer cried; and every time one of the neighbors came up to see them, they talked about “father,” and then they cried all together. The widow, meanwhile, received permission, the first year, to lodge rent free, and afterward she was to pay only a small rent. The grandmother stayed with the mother, who supported herself by washing for several “single fine gentlemen,” as she called them.Peer had neither sorrow nor want. He had his fill of meat and drink, and grandmother told him stories so extraordinary and wonderful about the wide world, that he asked her, one day, if they two might not go on Sunday to foreign lands, and come home again as prince and princess, with gold crowns on.“I am too old for that,” said grandmother; “and you must first learn a terrible lot of things, become great and strong; but you must always be a good and affectionate child—just as you are now.”Peer rode around the room on hobbyhorses; he had two such; but the merchant’s son had a real live horse; it was so little that it might as well have been called a baby-horse, as Peer called it, and it never could become any bigger. Felix rode it about in the yard; he even rode outside the gate with his father and a riding-master from the king’s stable.For the first half-hour Peer did not like his horses, and would not ride them—they were not real. He asked his mother why he could not have a real horse like little Felix; and his mother said:“Felix lives down on the first floor, close by the stables, but you live high up, under the roof. One cannot have horses up in the garret except like those you have; do you ride on them.”And so Peer rode: first to the chest of drawers, the great mountain full of treasures; both Peer’s Sunday clothes and his mother’s were there, and there were the shining silver dollars which she laid aside for rent He rode to the stove, which he called the black bear; it slept all summer long, but when winter came it must do something: warm the room and cook the meals.Peer had a godfather who usually came every Sunday in winter and got a good warm dinner. It was rather a coming down for him, said the mother and the grandmother. He had begun as a coachman; he took to drink and slept at his post, and that neither a soldier nor a coachman may do.Then he became a carter and drove a cart, and sometimes a drosky for gentlefolk; but now he drove a dirt-cart and went from door to door, swinging his rattle, “snurre-rurre-ud!” and out from all the houses came the girls and housewives with their buckets full, and turned these into the cart: rags and tags, ashes and rubbish were all turned in. One day Peer had come down from the garret, his mother had gone to town, and he stood at the open gate, and there outside was godfather with his cart.“Will you take a drive?” he asked. Right willingly would Peer, but only as far as the corner. His eyes shone as he sat on the seat alone with godfather and was allowed to hold the whip. Peer drove with real live horses, drove quite to the corner. His mother came along just then; she looked rather dubious. It was not so grand to her to see her own little son riding on a dirt-cart. He must get down at once. Still she thanked godfather; but when they reached home she forbade Peer to take that excursion again.One day he went again down to the gate. There was no godfather there to entice him off for a drive, but there were other allurements three or four small street urchins were down in the gutter, poking about to see what they could find that had been lost or had hidden itself there. They had often found a button or a copper coin; but they had quite as often scratched themselves with a broken bottle, or pricked themselves with a pin, which was just now the case. Peer must join them, and when he got down among the gutter-stones he found a silver coin.Another day he was down on his knees again, digging with the other boys. They only got dirty fingers; he found a gold ring, and showed, with sparkling eyes, his lucky find, and then the others threw dirt at him, and called him Lucky Peer; they would not let him be with them then when they poked in the gutter.Back of the merchant’s yard there was some low ground which was to be filled up for building lots; gravel and ashes were carted and tipped out there. Great heaps lay about. Godfather drove his cart, but Peer was not to drive with him. The street boys dug in the heaps; they dug with a stick and with their bare hands. They were always finding one thing or another which seemed worth picking up. Hither came little Peer.They saw him and cried out:— “Clear out, Lucky Peer!”And when he came nearer, they flung lumps of dirt at him. One of these struck against his wooden shoe and fell to pieces. Something shining dropped out; Peer took it up; it was a little heart made of amber. He ran home with it. The rest did not notice that even when they threw dirt at him he was a child of luck.The silver skilling which he had found was laid away in his little savings bank; the ring and the amber heart were shown down stairs to the merchants wife, because the mother wanted to know if they were among the “things found” that ought to be given notice of to the police.How the eyes of the merchant’s wife shone on seeing the ring! It was no other than her own engagement ring, which she had lost three years before; so long had it lain in the gutter. Peer was well rewarded, and the money rattled in his little box. The amber heart was a cheap thing, the lady said; Peer might just as well keep that. At night the amber heart lay on the bureau, and the grandmother lay in bed.“Eh! what is it that burns so!” said she. “It looks as if some candle were lighted there.” She got up to see, and it was the little heart of amber. Ah, the grandmother with her weak eyes often saw more than all others could see. Now she had her private thoughts about this. The next morning she took a small strong ribbon, drew it through the opening at the top of the heart, and put it round her little grandson’s neck.“You must never take it off; except to put a new ribbon into it; and you must not show it either to other boys. If they should take it from you, you would have the stomach-ache!” That was the only dreadful sickness little Peer had thus far known. There was a strange power too in the heart. Grandmother showed him that when she rubbed it with her hand, and a little straw was laid by it, the straw seemed to be alive and sprang to the heart of amber, and would not let it go.The merchant’s son had a tutor who heard him say his lessons alone, and walked out with him alone. Peer was also to have an education, so he went to school with a great quantity of other boys. They studied together, and that was more delightful than going alone with a tutor. Peer would not change.He was a lucky Peer, but godfather was also a lucky Peer,2 for all he was not called Peer. He won a prize in the lottery, of two hundred rix-dollars, on a ticket which he shared with eleven others. He went at once and bought some better clothes, and he looked very well in them. Luck never comes alone, it always has company, and it did this time. Godfather gave up his dirt-cart and joined the theatre.“For what in the world,” said grandmother. “is he going to the theatre? What does he go as?”As a machinist. That was a real getting on, and he was now quite another man, and took a wonderful deal of enjoyment in the comedy, which he always saw from the top or from the side. The most charming thing was the ballet, but that indeed gave him the hardest work, and there was always some danger from fire. They danced both in heaven and on earth. That was something for little Peer to see, and one evening when there was to be a dress rehearsal of a new ballet, in which they were all dressed and adorned as in the evening when people pay to see all the fine show, he had permission to bring Peer with him, and put him in a place where he could see the whole.It was a Scripture ballet—Samson. The Philistines danced about him, and he tumbled the whole house down over them and himself; but there were fire-engines and firemen on hand in case of any accident.Peer had never seen a comedy, still less a ballet. He put on his Sunday clothes and went with godfather to the theatre. It was just like a great drying-loft, with ever so many curtains and screens, great openings in the floor, lamps and lights. There was a host of nooks and crannies up and down, and people came out from these just as in a great church with its balcony pews.3 The floor went down quite steeply, and there Peer was placed, and told to stay there till it was all finished and he was sent for. He had three sandwiches in his pocket, so that he need not starve.Soon it grew lighter and lighter: there came up in front, just as if straight out of the earth, a number of musicians with both flutes and violins. At the side where Peer sat people came dressed as if they were in the street; but there came also knights with gold helmets, beautiful maidens in gauze and flowers, even angels all in white with wings on their hacks. They were placed up and down, on the floor and up in the “balcony pews,” to be looked at. They were the whole force of the ballet dancers; but Peer did not know that. He believed they belonged in the fairy tales his grandmother had told him about. Then there came a woman, who was the most beautiful of all, with a gold helmet and spear; she looked out over all the others and sat between an angel and an imp. Ah! how much there was to see, and yet the ballet was not even begun.There was a moment of quiet. A man dressed in black moved a little fairy wand over all the musicians, and then they began to play, so that there was a whistling of music, and the wall itself began to rise. One looked out on to a flower-garden, where the sun shone, and all the people danced and leaped. Such a wonderful sight had Peer never imagined. There the soldiers marched, and there was fighting, and there where the guilds and the mighty Samson with his love. But she was as wicked as she was beautiful: she betrayed him.The Philistines plucked his eyes out; he had to grind in the mill and be set up for mockery in the dancing hall; but then he laid hold of the strong pillars which held the roof up, and shook them and the whole house; it fell, and there burst forth wonderful flames of red and green fire. Peer could have sat there his whole life long and looked on, even if the sandwiches were all eaten—and they were all eaten.Now here was something to tell about when he got home. He was not to be got off to bed. He stood on one leg and laid the other upon the table—that was what Samson’s love and all the other ladies did. He made a treadmill out of grandmother’s chair, and upset two chairs and a bolster over himself to show how the dancing-hall came down. He showed this, and he gave it with all the music that belonged to it; there was no talking in the ballet. He sang high and low, with words and without; there was no connection in it; it was just like a whole opera. The most noticeable thing, meanwhile, of all was his beautiful voice, clear as a bell, but no one spoke of that.Peer was before to have been a grocer’s boy, to mind prunes and lump sugar; now he found there was something very much finer, and that was to get into the Samson story and dance in the ballet. There were a great many poor children that went that way, said the grandmother, and became fine and honored people; still no little girl of her family should ever get permission to go that way; a boy—well, he stood more firmly.Peer had not seen a single one of the little girls fall before the whole house fell, and then they all fell together, he said.Peer certainly must be a ballet-dancer.“He gives me no rest!” said his mother. At last, his grandmother promised to take him one day to the ballet-master, who was a fine gentleman, and had his own house, like the merchant. Would Peer ever get to that? Nothing is impossible for our Lord. Peer had a gold apple in his hand when he was a child. Such had lain in his hands; perhaps it was also in his legs.Peer went to the ballet-master, and knew him at once; it was Samson himself. His eyes had not suffered at all at the hands of the Philistines. That was only a part of the play, he was told. And Samson looked kindly and pleasantly on him, and told him to stand up straight, look right at him, and show him his ankle. Peer showed his whole foot, and leg too.“So he got a place in the ballet,” said grandmother.It was easily brought about at the ballet-master’s house; but first his mother and grandmother must needs make other preparations, and talk with people who knew about these things; first with the merchant’s wife, who thought it a good career for a pretty, well-formed boy without any prospect, like Peer. Then they talked with Miss Frandsen; she understood all about the ballet. At one time, in the younger days of grandmother, she had been the most favorite danseuse at the theatre; she had danced goddesses and princesses, had been cheered and applauded whenever she came out; but then she grew older,—we all do—and then she no longer had principal parts; she had to dance behind the younger ones; and finally she went behind all the dancers quite into the dressing-room, where The dressed the others to be goddesses and princesses.“So it goes!” said Miss Frandsen. “The theatre road is a delightful one to travel, but it is full of thorns. Chicane grows there,—chicane!”That was a word Peer did not understand; but he came to understand it quite well.“He is determined to go into the ballet,” said his mother.“He is a pious Christian child, that he is,” said grandmother.“And well brought up,” said Miss Frandsen. “ Well bred and moral! that was I in my heyday.”And so Peer went to dancing-school, and got some summer clothes and thin-soled dancing-shoes to make it easier. All the old dancers kissed him, and said that he was a boy good enough to eat.He was told to stand up, stick his legs out, and hold on by a post so as not to fall, while he learned to kick first with his right leg, then with his left. It was not so hard for him as for most of the others. The ballet-master clapped him on the back and said he would soon be in the ballet; he should be a king’s child, who was carried on shields and wore a gold crown. That was practised at the dancing school, and rehearsed at the theatre itself.The mother and grandmother must go to see little Peer in all his glory, and they looked, and they both cried, for all it was so splendid. Peer in all his glory and show had not seen them at all; but the merchant’s family he had seen; they sat in the loge nearest the stage. Little Felix was with them in his test clothes. He wore buttoned gloves, just like grown-up gentlemen, and sat with an opera-glass at his eyes the whole evening, although he could see perfectly well—again just like grown-up gentlemen. He looked at Peer. Peer looked at him; and Peer was a king’s child with a gold crown on. This evening brought the two children in closer relation to one another.Some days after, as they met each other in the yard, Felix went up to Peer and told him he had seen him when he was a prince. He knew very well that he was not a prince any longer, but then he had worn a prince’s clothes and had a gold crown on.“I shall wear them again on Sunday,” said Peer.Felix did not see him then, but he thought about it the whole evening. He would have liked very well to be in Peer’s shoes; he had not Miss Frandsen’s warning that the theatre way was a thorny one, and that chicane grew on it; neither did Peer know this yet, but he would very soon learn it.His young companions the dancing children were not all as good as they ought to be for all that they sometimes were angels with wings to them. There was a little girl, Malle Knallemp, who always, when she was dressed as page, and Peer was a page, stepped maliciously on the side of his foot, so as to see his stockings; there was a bad boy who always was sticking pins in his back, and one day he ate Peer’s sandwiches by mistake; but that was impossible, for Peer had some meat-pie with his sandwich, and the other boy had only bread and butter. He could not have made a mistake.It would be in vain to recite all the vexations that Peer endured in the two years, and the worst was not yet,—that was to come. There was a ballet to be brought out called The Vampire. In it the smallest dancing children were dressed as bats; wore gray tights that fitted snugly to their bodies; black gauze wings were stretched from their shoulders, and so they were to run on tiptoe, as if they were just flying, and then they were to whirl round on the floor. Peer could do this especially well; but his trousers and jacket, all of one piece, were old and worn; the threads did not hold together; so that, just as he whirled round before the eyes of all the people, there was a rip right down his back, straight from his neck down to where the legs are fastened in, and all his short, little white shirt was to be seen.All the people laughed. Peer saw it, and knew that he was ripped all down the back; he whirled and whirled, but it grew worse and worse. Folks laughed louder and louder; the other vampires laughed with them, and whirled into him, and all the more dreadfully when the people clapped and shouted bravo!“That is for the ripped vampire!” said the dancing children; and so they always called him “Ripperip.”Peer cried; Miss Frandsen comforted him. “’Tis only chicane,” said she; and now Peer knew what chicane was.Besides the dancing-school, they had another one attached to the theatre, where the children were taught to cipher and write, to learn history and geography; ay, they had a teacher in religion, for it is not enough to know how to dance there is something more in the world than wearing out dancing-shoes. Here, too, Peer was quick,—the very luckiest of all,—and got plenty of good marks; but his companions still called him “Ripperip.”It was only a joke; but at last he would not stand it any longer, and he struck out and boxed one of the boys, so that he was black and blue under the left eye, and had to have it whitened in the evening when he was to go in the ballet. Peer was talked to sharply by the dancing-master, and more harshly by the sweeping-woman, for it was her son he had punished.Note: The story continues in The Lucky Peer, Parts III and IV.
“Dear wolf,” complain’d a hungry fox,“A lean chick’s meat, or veteran cock’s,Is all I get by toil or trick:Of such a living I am sick.With far less risk, you’ve better cheer;A house you need not venture near,But I must do it, spite of fear.Pray, make me master of your trade.And let me by that means be madeThe first of all my race that tookFat mutton to his larder’s hook:Your kindness shall not be repented.”The wolf quite readily consented.“I have a brother, lately dead:Go fit his skin to yours,” he said.‘Twas done; and then the wolf proceeded:“Now mark you well what must be done,The dogs that guard the flock to shun.”The fox the lessons strictly heeded.At first he boggled in his dress;But awkwardness grew less and less,Till perseverance gave success.His education scarce complete,A flock, his scholarship to greet,Came rambling out that way.The new-made wolf his work began,Amidst the heedless nibblers ran,And spread a sore dismay.The bleating host now surely thoughtThat fifty wolves were on the spot:Dog, shepherd, sheep, all homeward fled,And left a single sheep in pawn,Which Renard seized when they were gone.But, ere upon his prize he fed,There crow’d a cock near by, and downThe scholar threw his prey and gown,That he might run that way the faster—Forgetting lessons, prize and master.Reality, in every station,Will burst out on the first occasion.
Now in a certain place there lived a Brahman named Haridatta. He was a farmer, but poor was the return his labour brought him. One day, at the end of the hot hours, the Brahman, overcome by the heat, lay down under the shadow of a tree to have a doze. Suddenly he saw a great hooded snake creeping out of an ant-hill near at hand. So he thought to himself, “Sure this is the guardian deity of the field, and I have not ever worshipped it. That’s why my farming is in vain. I will at once go and pay my respects to it.”When he had made up his mind, he got some milk, poured it into a bowl, and went to the ant-hill, and said aloud: “O Guardian of this Field! all this while I did not know that you dwelt here. That is why I have not yet paid my respects to you; pray forgive me.” And he laid the milk down and went to his house. Next morning he came and looked, and he saw a gold denar in the bowl, and from that time onward every day the same thing occurred he gave milk to the serpent and found a gold denar.One day the Brahman had to go to the village, and so he ordered his son to take the milk to the ant-hill. The son brought the milk, put it down, and went back home. Next day he went again and found a denar, so he thought to himself: “This ant-hill is surely full of golden denars; I’ll kill the serpent, and take them all for myself.” So next day, while he was giving the milk to the serpent, the Brahman’s son struck it on the head with a cudgel. But the serpent escaped death by the will of fate, and in a rage bit the Brahman’s son with its sharp fangs, and he fell down dead at once. His people raised him a funeral pyre not far from the field and burnt him to ashes.Two days afterwards his father came back, and when he learnt his son’s fate he grieved and mourned. But after a time, he took the bowl of milk, went to the ant-hill, and praised the serpent with a loud voice. After a long, long time the serpent appeared, but only with its head out of the opening of the ant-hill, and spoke to the Brahman: “‘Tis greed that brings you here, and makes you even forget the loss of your son. From this time forward friendship between us is impossible. Your son struck me in youthful ignorance, and I have bitten him to death. How can I forget the blow with the cudgel? And how can you forget the pain and grief at the loss of your son?” So speaking, it gave the Brahman a costly pearl and disappeared. But before it went away it said: “Come back no more.” The Brahman took the pearl, and went back home, cursing the folly of his son.
“The Conan is as bonny a river as we hae in a’ the north country. There’s mony a sweet sunny spot on its banks, an’ mony a time an’ aft hae I waded through its shallows, whan a boy, to set my little scautling-line for the trouts an’ the eels, or to gather the big pearl-mussels that lie sae thick in the fords. But its bonny wooded banks are places for enjoying the day in—no for passing the nicht. I kenna how it is; it’s nane o’ your wild streams that wander desolate through a desert country, like the Aven, or that come rushing down in foam and thunder, ower broken rocks, like the Foyers, or that wallow in darkness, deep, deep in the bowels o’ the earth, like the fearfu’ Auldgraunt; an’ yet no ane o’ these rivers has mair or frightfuller stories connected wi’ it than the Conan. Ane can hardly saunter ower half-a-mile in its course, frae where it leaves Coutin till where it enters the sea, without passing ower the scene o’ some frightful auld legend o’ the kelpie or the waterwraith. And ane o’ the most frightful looking o’ these places is to be found among the woods of Conan House. Ye enter a swampy meadow that waves wi’ flags an’ rushes like a corn-field in harvest, an’ see a hillock covered wi’ willows rising like an island in the midst. There are thick mirk-woods on ilka side; the river, dark an’ awesome, an’ whirling round an’ round in mossy eddies, sweeps away behind it; an’ there is an auld burying-ground, wi’ the broken ruins o’ an auld Papist kirk, on the tap. Ane can see amang the rougher stanes the rose-wrought mullions of an arched window, an’ the trough that ance held the holy water. About twa hunder years ago—a wee mair maybe, or a wee less, for ane canna be very sure o’ the date o’ thae old stories—the building was entire; an’ a spot near it, whar the wood now grows thickest, was laid out in a corn-field. The marks o’ the furrows may still be seen amang the trees.“A party o’ Highlanders were busily engaged, ae day in harvest, in cutting down the corn o’ that field; an’ just aboot noon, when the sun shone brightest an’ they were busiest in the work, they heard a voice frae the river exclaim:—‘The hour but not the man has come.’ Sure enough, on looking round, there was the kelpie stan’in’ in what they ca’ a fause ford, just fornent the auld kirk. There is a deep black pool baith aboon an’ below, but i’ the ford there’s a bonny ripple, that shows, as ane might think, but little depth o’ water; an’ just i’ the middle o’ that, in a place where a horse might swim, stood the kelpie. An’ it again repeated its words:—‘The hour but not the man has come,’ an’ then flashing through the water like a drake, it disappeared in the lower pool. When the folk stood wondering what the creature might mean, they saw a man on horseback come spurring down the hill in hot haste, making straight for the fause ford. They could then understand her words at ance; an’ four o’ the stoutest o’ them sprang oot frae amang the corn to warn him o’ his danger, an’ keep him back. An’ sae they tauld him what they had seen an’ heard, an’ urged him either to turn back an’ tak’ anither road, or stay for an hour or sae where he was. But he just wadna hear them, for he was baith unbelieving an’ in haste, an’ wauld hae taen the ford for a’ they could say, hadna the Highlanders, determined on saving him whether he would or no, gathered round him an’ pulled him frae his horse, an’ then, to mak’ sure o’ him, locked him up in the auld kirk. Weel, when the hour had gone by—the fatal hour o’ the kelpie—they flung open the door, an’ cried to him that he might noo gang on his journey. Ah! but there was nae answer, though; an’ sae they cried a second time, an’ there was nae answer still; an’ then they went in, an’ found him lying stiff an’ cauld on the floor, wi’ his face buried in the water o’ the very stone trough that we may still see amang the ruins. His hour had come, an’ he had fallen in a fit, as ’twould seem, head-foremost amang the water o’ the trough, where he had been smothered,—an’ sae ye see, the prophecy o’ the kelpie availed naething.”
In days of old an enormous man lived with other members of the Inuit tribe in a village beside a large inlet. He was so tall that he could straddle the inlet, and he used to stand that way every morning and wait for the whales to pass beneath him. As soon as one came along he used to scoop it up just as easily as other men scoop up a minnow. And he ate the whole whale just as other men eat a small fish.One day all the natives manned their boats to catch a whale that was spouting off the shore; but he sat idly by his hut. When the men had harpooned the whale and were having a hard time to hold it and keep their boats from capsizing, he rose and strolled down to the shore and scooped the whale and the boats from the water and placed them on the beach.Another time when he was tired of walking about, he lay down on a high hill to take a nap.“You would better be careful,” said the people, “for a couple of huge bears have been seen near the village.”“Oh, I don’t care for them. If they come too near me, throw some stones at me to waken me,” he said with a yawn.The bears came, and the people threw the stones and grabbed their spears. The giant sat up.“Where are they? I see no bears. Where are they?” he asked.“There! There! Don’t you see them?” cried the Inuit.“What! those little things! They are not worth all this bustle. They are nothing but small foxes.” And he crushed one between his fingers, and put the other into the eyelet of his boot to strangle it.
There was once an old couple named Peder and Kirsten who had an only son called Hans. From the time he was a little boy he had been told that on his sixteenth birthday he must go out into the world and serve his apprenticeship. So, one fine summer morning, he started off to seek his fortune with nothing but the clothes he wore on his back.For many hours he trudged on merrily, now and then stopping to drink from some clear spring or to pick some ripe fruit from a tree. The little wild creatures peeped at him from beneath the bushes, and he nodded and smiled, and wished them ‘Good-morning.’ After he had been walking for some time he met an old white-bearded man who was coming along the footpath. The boy would not step aside, and the man was determined not to do so either, so they ran against one another with a bump.‘It seems to me,’ said the old fellow, ‘that a boy should give way to an old man.’‘The path is for me as well as for you,’ answered young Hans saucily, for he had never been taught politeness.‘Well, that’s true enough,’ answered the other mildly. ‘And where are you going?’‘I am going into service,’ said Hans.‘Then you can come and serve me,’ replied the man.Well, Hans could do that; but what would his wages be?‘Two pounds a year, and nothing to do but keep some rooms clean,’ said the new-comer.This seemed to Hans to be easy enough; so he agreed to enter the old man’s service, and they set out together. On their way they crossed a deep valley and came to a mountain, where the man opened a trapdoor, and bidding Hans follow him, he crept in and began to go down a long flight of steps. When they got to the bottom Hans saw a large number of rooms lit by many lamps and full of beautiful things. While he was looking round the old man said to him:‘Now you know what you have to do. You must keep these rooms clean, and strew sand on the floor every day. Here is a table where you will always find food and drink, and there is your bed. You see there are a great many suits of clothes hanging on the wall, and you may wear any you please; but remember that you are never to open this locked door. If you do ill will befall you. Farewell, for I am going away again and cannot tell when I may return.No sooner had the old man disappeared than Hans sat down to a good meal, and after that went to bed and slept until the morning. At first he could not remember what had happened to him, but by-and-by he jumped up and went into all the rooms, which he examined carefully.‘How foolish to bid me to put sand on the floors,’ he thought, ‘when there is nobody here by myself! I shall do nothing of the sort.’ And so he shut the doors quickly, and only cleaned and set in order his own room. And after the first few days he felt that that was unnecessary too, because no one came there to see if the rooms where clean or not. At last he did no work at all, but just sat and wondered what was behind the locked door, till he determined to go and look for himself.The key turned easily in the lock. Hans entered, half frightened at what he was doing, and the first thing he beheld was a heap of bones. That was not very cheerful; and he was just going out again when his eye fell on a shelf of books. Here was a good way of passing the time, he thought, for he was fond of reading, and he took one of the books from the shelf. It was all about magic, and told you how you could change yourself into anything in the world you liked. Could anything be more exciting or more useful? So he put it in his pocket, and ran quickly away out of the mountain by a little door which had been left open.When he got home his parents asked him what he had been doing and where he had got the fine clothes he wore.‘Oh, I earned them myself,’ answered he.‘You never earned them in this short time,’ said his father. ‘Be off with you; I won’t keep you here. I will have no thieves in my house!’‘Well I only came to help you,’ replied the boy sulkily. ‘Now I’ll be off, as you wish; but to-morrow morning when you rise you will see a great dog at the door. Do not drive it away, but take it to the castle and sell it to the duke, and they will give you ten dollars for it; only you must bring the strap you lead it with, back to the house.’Sure enough the next day the dog was standing at the door waiting to be let in. The old man was rather afraid of getting into trouble, but his wife urged him to sell the dog as the boy had bidden him, so he took it up to the castle and sold it to the duke for ten dollars. But he did not forget to take off the strap with which he had led the animal, and to carry it home. When he got there old Kirsten met him at the door.‘Well, Peder, and have you sold the dog?’ asked she.‘Yes, Kirsten; and I have brought back ten dollars, as the boy told us,’ answered Peder.‘Ay! but that’s fine!’ said his wife. ‘Now you see what one gets by doing as one is bid; if it had not been for me you would have driven the dog away again, and we should have lost the money. After all, I always know what is best.’‘Nonsense!’ said her husband; ‘women always think they know best. I should have sold the dog just the same whatever you had told me. Put the money away in a safe place, and don’t talk so much.’The next day Hans came again; but though everything had turned out as he had foretold, he found that his father was still not quite satisfied.‘Be off with you!’ said he, ‘you’ll get us into trouble.’‘I haven’t helped you enough yet,’ replied the boy. ‘To-morrow there will come a great fat cow, as big as the house. Take it to the king’s palace and you’ll get as much as a thousand dollars for it. Only you must unfasten the halter you lead it with and bring it back, and don’t return by the high road, but through the forest.’The next day, when the couple rose, they saw an enormous head looking in at their bedroom window, and behind it was a cow which was nearly as big as their hut. Kirsten was wild with joy to think of the money the cow would bring them.‘But how are you going to put the rope over her head?’ asked she.‘Wait and you’ll see, mother,’ answered her husband. Then Peder took the ladder that led up to the hayloft and set it against the cow’s neck, and he climbed up and slipped the rope over her head. When he had made sure that the noose was fast they started for the palace, and met the king himself walking in his grounds.‘I heard that the princess was going to be married,’ said Peder, ‘so I’ve brought your majesty a cow which is bigger than any cow that was ever seen. Will your majesty deign to buy it?’The king had, in truth, never seen so large a beast, and he willingly paid the thousand dollars, which was the price demanded; but Peder remembered to take off the halter before he left. After he was gone the king sent for the butcher and told him to kill the animal for the wedding feast. The butcher got ready his pole-axe; but just as he was going to strike, the cow changed itself into a dove and flew away, and the butcher stood staring after it as if he were turned to stone. However, as the dove could not be found, he was obliged to tell the king what had happened, and the king in his turn despatched messengers to capture the old man and bring him back. But Peder was safe in the woods, and could not be found. When at last he felt the danger was over, and he might go home, Kirsten nearly fainted with joy at the sight of all the money he brought with him.‘Now that we are rich people we must build a bigger house,’ cried she; and was vexed to find that Peder only shook his head and said: ‘No; if they did that people would talk, and say they had got their wealth by ill-doing.’A few mornings later Hans came again.‘Be off before you get us into trouble,’ said his father. ‘So far the money has come right enough, but I don’t trust it.’‘Don’t worry over that, father,’ said Hans. ‘To-morrow you will find a horse outside by the gate. Ride it to market and you will get a thousand dollars for it. Only don’t forget to loosen the bridle when you sell it.’Well, in the morning there was the horse; Kirsten had never seen so find an animal. ‘Take care it doesn’t hurt you, Peder,’ said she.‘Nonsense, wife,’ answered he crossly. ‘When I was a lad I lived with horses, and could ride anything for twenty miles round.’ But that was not quite the truth, for he had never mounted a horse in his life.Still, the animal was quiet enough, so Peder got safely to market on its back. There he met a man who offered nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars for it, but Peder would take nothing less than a thousand. At last there came an old, grey-bearded man who looked at the horse and agreed to buy it; but the moment he touched it the horse began to kick and plunge. ‘I must take the bridle off,’ said Peder. ‘It is not to be sold with the animal as is usually the case.’‘I’ll give you a hundred dollars for the bridle,’ said the old man, taking out his purse.‘No, I can’t sell it,’ replied Hans’s father.‘Five hundred dollars!’‘A thousand!’At this splendid offer Peder’s prudence gave way; it was a shame to let so much money go. So he agreed to accept it. But he could hardly hold the horse, it became so unmanageable. So he gave the animal in charge to the old man, and went home with his two thousand dollars.Kirsten, of course, was delighted at this new piece of good fortune, and insisted that the new house should be built and land bought. This time Peder consented, and soon they had quite a fine farm.Meanwhile the old man rode off on his new purchase, and when he came to a smithy he asked the smith to forge shoes for the horse. The smith proposed that they should first have a drink together, and the horse was tied up by the spring whilst they went indoors. The day was hot, and both men were thirsty, and, besides, they had much to say; and so the hours slipped by and found them still talking. Then the servant girl came out to fetch a pail of water, and, being a kind- hearted lass, she gave some to the horse to drink. What was her surprise when the animal said to her: ‘Take off my bridle and you will save my life.’‘I dare not,’ said she; ‘your master will be so angry.’‘He cannot hurt you,’ answered the horse, ‘and you will save my life.’At that she took off the bridle; but nearly fainted with astonishment when the horse turned into a dove and flew away just as the old man came out of the house. Directly he saw what had happened he changed himself into a hawk and flew after the dove. Over the woods and fields they went, and at length they reached a king’s palace surrounded by beautiful gardens. The princess was walking with her attendants in the rose garden when the dove turned itself into a gold ring and fell at her feet.‘Why, here is a ring!’ she cried, ‘where could it have come from?’ And picking it up she put it on her finger. As she did so the hill-man lost his power over Hans–for of course you understand that it was he who had been the dog, the cow, the horse and the dove.‘Well, that is really strange,’ said the princess. ‘It fits me as though it had been made for me!’Just at that moment up came the king.‘Look at what I have found!’ cried his daughter.‘Well, that is not worth much, my dear,’ said he. ‘Besides, you have rings enough, I should think.’‘Never mind, I like it,’ replied the princess.But as soon as she was alone, to her amazement, the ring suddenly left her finger and became a man. You can imagine how frightened she was, as, indeed, anybody would have been; but in an instant the man became a ring again, and then turned back to a man, and so it went on for some time until she began to get used to these sudden changes.‘I am sorry I frightened you,’ said Hans, when he thought he could safely speak to the princess without making her scream. ‘I took refuge with you because the old hill-man, whom I have offended, was trying to kill me, and here I am safe.’‘You had better stay here then,’ said the princess. So Hans stayed, and he and she became good friends; though, of course, he only became a man when no one else was present.This was all very well; but, one day, as they were talking together, the king happened to enter the room, and although Hans quickly changed himself into a ring again it was too late.The king was terribly angry.‘So this is why you have refused to marry all the kings and princes who have sought your hand?’ he cried.And, without waiting for her to speak, he commanded that his daughter should be walled up in the summer-house and starved to death with her lover.That evening the poor princess, still wearing her ring, was put into the summer-house with enough food to last for three days, and the door was bricked up. But at the end of a week or two the king thought it was time to give her a grand funeral, in spite of her bad behaviour, and he had the summer-house opened. He could hardly believe his eyes when he found that the princess was not there, nor Hans either. Instead, there lay at his feet a large hole, big enough for two people to pass through.“The princess imprisoned in the summerhouse.” Illustration by H.J. Ford. Published in Andrew Lang’s Orange Fairy Book (1906), Longsman, Green and Co.Now what had happened was this.When the princess and Hans had given up hope, and cast themselves down on the ground to die, they fell down this hole, and right through the earth as well, and at last they tumbled into a castle built of pure gold at the other side of the world, and there they lived happily. But of this, of course, the king knew nothing.‘Will anyone go down and see where the passage leads to?’ he asked, turning to his guards and courtiers. ‘I will reward splendidly the man who is brave enough to explore it.’For a long time nobody answered. The hole was dark and deep, and if it had a bottom no one could see it. At length a soldier, who was a careless sort of fellow, offered himself for the service, and cautiously lowered himself into the darkness. But in a moment he, too, fell down, down, down. Was he going to fall for ever, he wondered! Oh, how thankful he was in the end to reach the castle, and to meet the princess and Hans, looking quite well and not at all as if they had been starved. They began to talk, and the soldier told them that the king was very sorry for the way he had treated his daughter, and wished day and night that he could have her back again.Then they all took ship and sailed home, and when they came to the princess’s country, Hans disguised himself as the sovereign of a neighbouring kingdom, and went up to the palace alone. He was given a hearty welcome by the king, who prided himself on his hospitality, and a banquet was commanded in his honour. That evening, whilst they sat drinking their wine, Hans said to the king:‘I have heard the fame of your majesty’s wisdom, and I have travelled from far to ask your counsel. A man in my country has buried his daughter alive because she loved a youth who was born a peasant. How shall I punish this unnatural father, for it is left to me to give judgment?’The king, who was still truly grieved for his daughter’s loss, answered quickly:‘Burn him alive, and strew his ashes all over the kingdom.’Hans looked at him steadily for a moment, and then threw off his disguise.‘You are the man,’ said he; ‘and I am he who loved your daughter, and became a gold ring on her finger. She is safe, and waiting not far from here; but you have pronounced judgment on yourself.’Then the king fell on his knees and begged for mercy; and as he had in other respects been a good father, they forgave him. The wedding of Hans and the princess was celebrated with great festivities which lasted a month. As for the hill-man he intended to be present; but whilst he was walking along a street which led to the palace a loose stone fell on his head and killed him. So Hans and the princess lived in peace and happiness all their days, and when the old king died they reigned instead of him.
On the fifth day of the fifth month the festival of the Dragon Junk is held along the Yangtze-kiang. A dragon is hollowed out of wood, painted with an armor of scales, and adorned with gold and bright colors. A carved red railing surrounds this ship, and its sails and s are made of silks and brocade. The after part of the vessel is called the dragon’s tail. It rises ten feet above the water, and a board which floats in the water is tied to it by means of a cloth. Upon this board sit boys who turn somersaults, stand on their heads, and perform all sorts of tricks. Yet, being so close to the water their danger is very great. It is the custom, therefore, when a boy is hired for this purpose, to give his parents money before he is trained. Then, if he falls into the water and is drowned, no one has him on their conscience. Farther South the custom differs in so much that instead of boys, beautiful girls are chosen for this purpose.In Dschen-Giang there once lived a widow named Dsiang, who had a son called Aduan. When he was no more than seven years of age he was extraordinarily skilful, and no other boy could equal him. And his reputation increasing as he grew, he earned more and more money. So it happened that he was still called upon at the Dragon Junk Festival when he was already sixteen.But one day he fell into the water below the Gold Island and was drowned. He was the only son of his mother, and she sorrowed over him, and that was the end of it.Yet Aduan did not know that he had been drowned. He met two men who took him along with them, and he saw a new world in the midst of the waters of the Yellow River. When he looked around, the waves of the river towered steeply about him like walls, and a palace was visible, in which sat a man wearing armor and a helmet. His two companions said to him: “That is the Prince of the Dragon’s Cave!” and bade him kneel.The Prince of the Dragon’s Cave seemed to be of a mild and kindly disposition and said: “We can make use of such a skilful lad. He may take part in the dance of the willow branches!”So he was brought to a spot surrounded by extensive buildings. He entered, and was greeted by a crowd of boys who were all about fourteen years of age.An old woman came in and they all called out: “This is Mother Hia!” And she sat down and had Aduan show his tricks. Then she taught him the dance of the flying thunders of Tsian-Tang River, and the music that calms the winds on the sea of Dung-Ting. When the cymbals and kettledrums reechoed through all the courts, they deafened the ear. Then, again, all the courts would fall silent. Mother Hia thought that Aduan would not be able to grasp everything the very first time; so she taught him with great patience. But Aduan had understood everything from the first, and that pleased old Mother Hia. “This boy,” said she, “equals our own Rose of Evening!”The following day the Prince of the Dragon’s Cave held a review of his dancers. When all the dancers had assembled, the dance of the Ogres was danced first. Those who performed it all wore devil-masks and garments of scales. They beat upon enormous cymbals, and their kettledrums were so large that four men could just about span them. Their sound was like the sound of a mighty thunder, and the noise was so great that nothing else could be heard. When the dance began, tremendous waves spouted up to the very skies, and then fell down again like star-glimmer which scatters in the air.The Prince of the Dragon Cave hastily bade the dance cease, and had the dancers of the nightingale round step forth. These were all lovely young girls of sixteen. They made a delicate music with flutes, so that the breeze blew and the roaring of the waves was stilled in a moment. The water gradually became as quiet as a crystal world, transparent to its lowest depths. When the nightingale dancers had finished, they withdrew and posted themselves in the western courtyard.Then came the turn of the swallow dancers. These were all little girls. One among them, who was about fifteen years of age, danced the dance of the giving of flowers with flying sleeves and waving locks. And as their garments fluttered, many-colored flowers dropped from their folds, and were caught up by the wind and whirled about the whole courtyard. When the dance had ended, this dancer also went off with the rest of the girls to the western courtyard. Aduan looked at her from out the corner of his eye, and fell deeply in love with her. He asked his comrades who she might be and they told him she was named “Rose of Evening.”But the willow-spray dancers were now called out. The Prince of the Dragon Cave was especially desirous of testing Aduan. So Aduan danced alone, and he danced with joy or defiance according to the music. When he looked up and when he looked down his glances held the beat of the measure. The Dragon Prince, enchanted with his skill, presented him with a garment of five colors, and gave him a carbuncle set in golden threads of fish-beard for a hair-jewel. Aduan bowed his thanks for the gift, and then also hastened to the western courtyard. There all the dancers stood in rank and file. Aduan could only look at Rose of Evening from a distance, but still Rose of Evening returned his glances.After a time Aduan gradually slipped to the end of his file and Rose of Evening also drew near to him, so that they stood only a few feet away from each other. But the strict rules allowed no confusion in the ranks, so they could only gaze and let their souls go out to each other.Now the butterfly dance followed the others. This was danced by the boys and girls together, and the pairs were equal in size, age and the color of their garments. When all the dances had ended, the dancers marched out with the goose-step. The willow-spray dancers followed the swallow dancers, and Aduan hastened in advance of his company, while Rose of Evening lingered along after hers. She turned her head, and when she spied Aduan she purposely let a coral pin fall from her hair. Aduan hastily hid it in his sleeve.When he had returned, he was sick with longing, and could neither eat nor sleep. Mother Hia brought him all sorts of dainties, looked after him three or four times a day, and stroked his forehead with loving care. But his illness did not yield in the least. Mother Hia was unhappy, and yet helpless.“The birthday of the King of the Wu River is at hand,” said she. “What is to be done?”In the twilight there came a boy, who sat down on the edge of Aduan’s bed and chatted with him. He belonged to the butterfly dancers, said he, and asked casually: “Are you sick because of Rose of Evening?” Aduan, frightened, asked him how he came to guess it. The other boy said, with a smile: “Well, because Rose of Evening is in the same case as yourself.”Disconcerted, Aduan sat up and begged the boy to advise him. “Are you able to walk?” asked the latter. “If I exert myself,” said Aduan, “I think I could manage it.”So the boy led him to the South. There he opened a gate and they turned the corner, to the West. Once more the doors of the gate flew open, and now Aduan saw a lotus field about twenty acres in size. The lotus flowers were all growing on level earth, and their leaves were as large as mats and their flowers like umbrellas. The fallen blossoms covered the ground beneath the stalks to the depth of a foot or more. The boy led Aduan in and said, “Now first of all sit down for a little while!” Then he went away.After a time a beautiful girl thrust aside the lotus flowers and came into the open. It was Rose of Evening. They looked at each other with happy timidity, and each told how each had longed for the other. And they also told each other of their former life. Then they weighted the lotus-leaves with stones so that they made a cozy retreat, in which they could be together, and promised to meet each other there every evening. And then they parted.Aduan came back and his illness left him. From that time on he met Rose of Evening every day in the lotus field.After a few days had passed they had to accompany the Prince of the Dragon Cave to the birthday festival of the King of the Wu River. The festival came to an end, and all the dancers returned home. Only, the King had kept back Rose of Evening and one of the nightingale dancers to teach the girls in his castle.Months passed and no news came from Rose of Evening, so that Aduan went about full of longing and despair. Now Mother Hia went every day to the castle of the god of the Wu River. So Aduan told her that Rose of Evening was his cousin, and entreated her to take him along with her so that he could at least see her a single time. So she took him along, and let him stay at the lodge-house of the river-god for a few days. But the indwellers of the castle were so strictly watched that he could not see Rose of Evening even a single time. Sadly Aduan went back again.Another month passed and Aduan, filled with gloomy thoughts, wished that death might be his portion.One day Mother Hia came to him full of pity, and began to sympathize with him. “What a shame,” said she, “that Rose of Evening has cast herself into the river!”Aduan was extremely frightened, and his tears flowed resistlessly. He tore his beautiful garments, took his gold and his pearls, and went out with the sole idea of following his beloved in death. Yet the waters of the river stood up before him like walls, and no matter how often he ran against them, head down, they always flung him back.He did not dare return, since he feared he might be questioned about his festival garments, and severely punished because he had ruined them. So he stood there and knew not what to do, while the perspiration ran down to his ankles. Suddenly, at the foot of the water-wall he saw a tall tree. Like a monkey he climbed up to its very top, and then, with all his might, he shot into the waves.And then, without being wet, he found himself suddenly swimming on the surface of the river. Unexpectedly the world of men rose up once more before his dazzled eyes. He swam to the shore, and as he walked along the river-bank, his thoughts went back to his old mother. He took a ship and traveled home.When he reached the village, it seemed to him as though all the houses in it belonged to another world. The following morning he entered his mother’s house, and as he did so, heard a girl’s voice beneath the window saying: “Your son has come back again!” The voice sounded like the voice of Rose of Evening, and when she came to greet him at his mother’s side, sure enough, it was Rose of Evening herself.And in that hour the joy of these two who were so fond of each other overcame all their sorrow. But in the mother’s mind sorrow and doubt, terror and joy mingled in constant succession in a thousand different ways.When Rose of Evening had been in the palace of the river-king, and had come to realize that she would never see Aduan again, she determined to die, and flung herself into the waters of the stream. But she was carried to the surface, and the waves carried and cradled her till a ship came by and took her aboard. They asked whence she came. Now Rose of Evening had originally been a celebrated singing girl of Wu, who had fallen into the river and whose body had never been found. So she thought to herself that, after all, she could not return to her old life again. So she answered: “Madame Dsiang, in Dschen-Giang is my mother-in-law.” Then the travelers took passage for her in a ship which brought her to the place she had mentioned. The widow Dsiang first said she must be mistaken, but the girl insisted that there was no mistake, and told Aduan’s mother her whole story. Yet, though the latter was charmed by her surpassing loveliness, she feared that Rose of Evening was too young to live a widow’s life. But the girl was respectful and industrious, and when she saw that poverty ruled in her new home, she took her pearls and sold them for a high price. Aduan’s old mother was greatly pleased to see how seriously the girl took her duties.Now that Aduan had returned again Rose of Evening could not control her joy. And even Aduan’s old mother cherished the hope that, after all, perhaps her son had not died. She secretly dug up her son’s grave, yet all his bones were still lying in it. So she questioned Aduan. And then, for the first time, the latter realized that he was a departed spirit. Then he feared that Rose of Evening might regard him with disgust because he was no longer a human being. So he ordered his mother on no account to speak of it, and this his mother promised. Then she spread the report in the village that the body which had been found in the river had not been that of her son at all. Yet she could not rid herself of the fear that, since Aduan was a departed spirit, heaven might refuse to send him a child.In spite of her fear, however, she was able to hold a grandson in her arms in course of time. When she looked at him, he was no different from other children, and then her cup of joy was filled to overflowing.Rose of Evening gradually became aware of the fact that Aduan was not really a human being. “Why did you not tell me at once?” said she. “Departed spirits who wear the garments of the dragon castle, surround themselves with a soul-casing so heavy in texture that they can no longer be distinguished from the living. And if one can obtain the lime made of dragon-horn which is in the castle, then the bones may be glued together in such wise that flesh and blood will grow over them again. What a pity that we could not obtain the lime while we were there!”Aduan sold his pearl, for which a merchant from foreign parts gave him an enormous sum. Thus his family grew very wealthy. Once, on his mother’s birthday, he danced with his wife and sang, in order to please her. The news reached the castle of the Dragon Prince and he thought to carry off Rose of Evening by force. But Aduan, alarmed, went to the Prince, and declared that both he and his wife were departed spirits. They examined him and since he cast no shadow, his word was taken, and he was not robbed of Rose of Evening.Note: “Rose of Evening” is one of the most idyllic of Chinese art fairy-tales. The idea that the departed spirit throws no shadow has analogies in Norse and other European fairy-tales.
There is a dreadful place in Persia called the “Valley of the Angel of Death.” That terrific minister of God’s wrath, according to tradition, has resting-places upon the earth and his favourite abodes. He is surrounded by ghools, horrid beings who, when he takes away life, feast upon the carcasses.The natural shape of these monsters is terrible; but they can assume those of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform their shapes, but their voices also are altered. The frightful screams and yells which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines are changed for the softest and most melodious notes. Unwary travellers, deluded by the appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms and charmed by the music of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction.The number of these ghools has greatly decreased since the birth of the Prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in sincerity of faith. These creatures are the very lowest of the supernatural world, and, besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and consequently often imposed upon by artful men.The natives of Isfahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute people upon earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone at night through this dreadful valley. He was a man of ready wit, and fond of adventures, and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought him through a hundred scrapes and perils that would have embarrassed or destroyed your simple man of valour.This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had heard many stories of the ghools of the “Valley of the Angel of Death,” and thought it likely he might meet one. He prepared accordingly, by putting an egg and a lump of salt in his pocket. He had not gone far amidst the rocks, when he heard a voice crying, “Holloa, Ameen Beg Isfahânee! you are going the wrong road, you will lose yourself; come this way. I am your friend Kerreem Beg; I know your father, old Kerbela Beg, and the street in which you were born.” Ameen knew well the power the ghools had of assuming the shape of any person they choose; and he also knew their skill as genealogists, and their knowledge of towns as well as families; he had therefore little doubt this was one of those creatures alluring him to destruction. He, however, determined to encounter him, and trust to his art for his escape.“Stop, my friend, till I come near you,” was his reply. When Ameen came close to the ghool, he said, “You are not my friend Kerreem; you are a lying demon, but you are just the being I desired to meet. I have tried my strength against all the men and all the beasts which exist in the natural world, and I can find nothing that is a match for me. I came therefore to this valley in the hope of encountering a ghool, that I might prove my prowess upon him.”The ghool, astonished at being addressed in this manner, looked keenly at him, and said, “Son of Adam, you do not appear so strong.” “Appearances are deceitful,” replied Ameen, “but I will give you a proof of my strength. There,” said he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, “this contains a fluid; try if you can so squeeze it that it will flow out.” The ghool took the stone, but, after a short attempt, returned it, saying, “The thing is impossible.” “Quite easy,” said the Isfahânee, taking the stone and placing it in the hand in which he had before put the egg. “Look there!” And the astonished ghool, while he heard what he took for the breaking of the stone, saw the liquid run from between Ameen’s fingers, and this apparently without any effort.Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the stone upon the ground while he picked up another of a darker hue. “This,” said he, “I can see contains salt, as you will find if you can crumble it between your fingers;” but the ghool, looking at it, confessed he had neither knowledge to discover its qualities nor strength to break it. “Give it me,” said his companion impatiently; and, having put it into the same hand with the piece of salt, he instantly gave the latter all crushed to the ghool, who, seeing it reduced to powder, tasted it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the skill and strength of this wonderful man. Neither was he without alarm lest his strength should be exerted against himself, and he saw no safety in resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had warned him that if he commenced any such unfair dealing, he would instantly slay him; for ghools, though long-lived, are not immortal.Under such circumstances he thought his best plan was to conciliate the friendship of his new companion till he found an opportunity of destroying him.“Most wonderful man,” he said, “will you honour my abode with your presence? it is quite at hand; there you will find every refreshment; and after a comfortable night’s rest you can resume your journey.”“I have no objection, friend ghool, to accept your offer; but, mark me, I am, in the first place, very passionate, and must not be provoked by any expressions which are in the least disrespectful; and, in the second, I am full of penetration, and can see through your designs as clearly as I saw into that hard stone in which I discovered salt. So take care you entertain none that are wicked, or you shall suffer.”The ghool declared that the ear of his guest should be pained by no expression to which it did not befit his dignity to listen; and he swore by the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death, that he would faithfully respect the rights of hospitality and friendship.Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the ghool through a number of crooked paths, rugged cliffs, and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave, which was dimly lighted. “Here,” said the ghool, “I dwell, and here my friend will find all he can want for refreshment and repose.” So saying, he led him to various apartments, in which were hoarded every species of grain, and all kinds of merchandise, plundered from travellers who had been deluded to this den, and of whose fate Ameen was too well informed by the bones over which he now and then stumbled, and by the putrid smell produced by some half-consumed carcasses.“This will be sufficient for your supper, I hope,” said the ghool, taking up a large bag of rice; “a man of your prowess must have a tolerable appetite.” “True,” said Ameen, “but I ate a sheep and as much rice as you have there before I proceeded on my journey. I am, consequently, not hungry, but will take a little lest I offend your hospitality.” “I must boil it for you,” said the demon; “you do not eat grain and meat raw, as we do. Here is a kettle,” said he, taking up one lying amongst the plundered property. “I will go and get wood for a fire, while you fetch water with that,” pointing to a bag made of the hides of six oxen.Ameen waited till he saw his host leave the cave for the wood, and then with great difficulty he dragged the enormous bag to the bank of a dark stream, which issued from the rocks at the other end of the cavern, and, after being visible for a few yards, disappeared underground.“How shall I,” thought Ameen, “prevent my weakness being discovered? This bag I could hardly manage when empty; when full, it would require twenty strong men to carry it; what shall I do? I shall certainly be eaten up by this cannibal ghool, who is now only kept in order by the impression of my great strength.” After some minutes’ reflection the Isfahânee thought of a scheme, and began digging a small channel from the stream towards the place where his supper was preparing.“What are you doing?” vociferated the ghool, as he advanced towards him; “I sent you for water to boil a little rice, and you have been an hour about it. Cannot you fill the bag and bring it away?” “Certainly I can,” said Ameen; “if I were content, after all your kindness, to show my gratitude merely by feats of brute strength, I could lift your stream if you had a bag large enough to hold it. But here,” said he, pointing to the channel he had begun,—“here is the commencement of a work in which the mind of a man is employed to lessen the labour of his body. This canal, small as it may appear, will carry a stream to the other end of the cave, in which I will construct a dam that you can open and shut at pleasure, and thereby save yourself infinite trouble in fetching water. But pray let me alone till it is finished,” and he began to dig. “Nonsense!” said the ghool, seizing the bag and filling it; “I will carry the water myself, and I advise you to leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me, that you may eat your supper and go to sleep; you may finish this fine work, if you like it, to-morrow morning.”Ameen congratulated himself on this escape, and was not slow in taking the advice of his host. After having ate heartily of the supper that was prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the richest coverlets and pillows, which were taken from one of the store-rooms of plundered goods. The ghool, whose bed was also in the cave, had no sooner laid down than he fell into a sound sleep. The anxiety of Ameen’s mind prevented him from following his example; he rose gently, and having stuffed a long pillow into the middle of his bed, to make it appear as if he was still there, he retired to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the proceedings of the ghool. The latter awoke a short time before daylight, and rising, went, without making any noise, towards Ameen’s bed, where, not observing the least stir, he was satisfied that his guest was in a deep sleep; so he took up one of his walking-sticks, which was in size like the trunk of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he supposed to be Ameen’s head. He smiled not to hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him of life; but to make sure of his work, he repeated the blow seven times. He then returned to rest, but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when Ameen, who had crept into the bed, raised his head above the clothes and exclaimed, “Friend ghool, what insect could it be that has disturbed me by its tapping? I counted the flap of its little wings seven times on the coverlet. These vermin are very annoying, for, though they cannot hurt a man, they disturb his rest!”The ghool’s dismay on hearing Ameen speak at all was great, but that was increased to perfect fright when he heard him describe seven blows, any one of which would have felled an elephant, as seven flaps of an insect’s wing. There was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a man, and he soon afterwards arose and fled from the cave, leaving the Isfahânee its sole master.When Ameen found his host gone, he was at no loss to conjecture the cause, and immediately began to survey the treasures with which he was surrounded, and to contrive means for removing them to his home.After examining the contents of the cave, and arming himself with a matchlock, which had belonged to some victim of the ghool, he proceeded to survey the road. He had, however, only gone a short distance when he saw the ghool returning with a large club in his hand, and accompanied by a fox. Ameen’s knowledge of the cunning animal instantly led him to suspect that it had undeceived his enemy, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. “Take that,” said he to the fox, aiming a ball at him from his matchlock, and shooting him through the head,—“Take that for your not performing my orders. That brute,” said he, “promised to bring me seven ghools, that I might chain them, and carry them to Isfahan, and here he has only brought you, who are already my slave.” So saying, he advanced towards the ghool; but the latter had already taken to flight, and by the aid of his club bounded so rapidly over rocks and precipices that he was soon out of sight.Ameen having well marked the path from the cavern to the road, went to the nearest town and hired camels and mules to remove the property he had acquired. After making restitution to all who remained alive to prove their goods, he became, from what was unclaimed, a man of wealth, all of which was owing to that wit and art which ever overcome brute strength and courage.
There were two brothers living together in a house, one of whom did all the work, while the other did nothing but idle, and eat and drink what was ready at hand. And God gave them prosperity in everything–in cattle, in horses, in sheep, in swine, in bees, and in everything else. The one that worked one day began to think to himself: ‘Why should I work for that lazybones as well? It is better that we should separate, and that I should work for myself, and he do as he likes.’So one day he said to his brother: ‘Brother, it isn’t right. I do all the work, and you don’t help in anything, but merely eat and drink what’s ready. I have made up my mind that we separate.’ The other began to dissuade him: ‘Don’t, brother; it is good for us to be tenants in common; you have everything in your hands, both your own and mine, and I am content whatever you do.’ But the first abode by his determination, so the second gave way, and said to him: ‘If it is so, take your own course; make the division yourself, as you know how.’ Then he divided everything in order, and took everything that was his before him. The do-nothing engaged a herdsman for his cattle, a horsekeeper for his horses, a shepherd for his sheep, a goatherd for his goats, a swineherd for his swine, a beeman for his bees, and said to them: ‘I leave all my property in your hands and God’s,’ and began to live at home as before.The first took pains about his property himself as before, watched and overlooked, but saw no prosperity, but all loss. From day to day everything went worse, till he became so poverty-stricken, that he hadn’t shoes to his feet, but went barefoot. Then said he to himself: ‘I will go to my brother, and see how it is with him.’ He did so, and as he went came to a flock of sheep in a meadow, and with the sheep there was no shepherd, but a very beautiful damsel was sitting there spinning golden thread. He addressed her: ‘God help you!’ and inquired whose the sheep were. She replied: ‘The sheep belong to the person to whom I belong.’ He asked her further: ‘To whom do you belong?’ She answered: ‘I am your brother’s luck.’ He was put out, and said to her: ‘And where is my luck?’ The damsel answered him: ‘Your luck is far from you.’ ‘But can I find it?’ inquired he, and she replied:‘You can; go, seek for it.’ When he heard this, and saw that his brother’s sheep were good–so good, that they could not be better, he didn’t care about going further to see other cattle, but went off straight to his brother. When his brother saw him, he had compassion on him, and began to weep: ‘Where have you been so long a time?’ Then, seeing him barehead and barefoot, he gave him at once a pair of boots and some money. Afterwards, when they had enjoyed each other’s company for some days, the visitor rose up to go to his own house. When he got home, he took a wallet on his back, some bread in it, and a staff in his hand, and went into the world to look for his luck. As he travelled, he came to a large wood, and as he went through it, he saw a gray-haired old maid asleep under a bush, and reached out his staff to give her a push.She barely raised herself up, and, hardly opening her eyes for the rheum, addressed him: ‘Thank God that I fell asleep, for, if I had been awake, you wouldn’t have obtained even that pair of boots.’ Then he said to her: ‘Who are you, that I shouldn’t even have obtained this pair of boots?’ She replied: ‘I am your luck.’ When he heard this, he began to beat his breast: ‘If you are my luck, God slay you! Who gave you to me?’ She quickly rejoined: ‘Fate gave me to you.’ He then inquired: ‘And where is this Fate?’ She answered: ‘Go and look for him.’ And that instant she disappeared. Then the man went on to look for Fate. As he journeyed, he came to a village, and saw in the village a large farmhouse, and in it a large fire, and said to himself: ‘Here there is surely some merry-making or festival,’ and went in. When he went in, on the fire was a large caldron, in which supper was cooking, and in front of the fire sat the master of the house. The traveller, on going into the house, addressed the master: ‘Good-evening!’The master replied: ‘God give you prosperity!’ and bade him sit down with him, and then began to ask him whence he came, and whither he was going. He related to him everything: how he had been a master, how he had become impoverished, and how he was now going to Fate to ask him why he was so poor. Then he inquired of the master of the house why he was preparing so large a quantity of food, and the master said to him: ‘Well, my brother, I am master here, and have enough of everything, but I cannot anyhow satisfy my people; it is quite as if a dragon were in their stomachs. You’ll see, when we begin to sup, what they will do.’ When they sat down to sup, everybody snatched and grabbed from everybody else, and that large caldron of food was empty in no time.After supper, a maidservant came in, put all the bones in a heap, and threw them behind the stove; and he began to wonder why the young woman threw the bones behind the stove, till all at once out came two old poverty-stricken spectres, as dry as ghosts, and began to suck the bones. Then he asked the master of the house: ‘What’s this, brother, behind the stove?’ He replied: ‘Those, brother, are my father and mother; just as if they were fettered to this world, they will not quit it.’ The next day, at his departure, the master of the house said to him: ‘Brother, remember me, too, if anywhere you find Fate, and ask him what manner of misfortune it is that I cannot satisfy my people, and why my father and mother do not die.’ He promised to ask him the question, took leave of him, and went on to look for Fate. As on he went, he came, after a long time, to another village, and begged at a certain house that they would take him in for a night’s lodging. They did so, and asked him whither he was going; and he told them all in order, what it was, and how it was. Then they began to say to him: ‘In God’s name, brother, when you get there, ask him with regard to us too, why our cattle are not productive, but the contrary.’He promised them to ask Fate the question, and the next day went on. As he went, he came to a stream of water, and began to shout: ‘Water! water! carry me across.’ The water asked him: ‘Whither are you going?’ He told it whither he was going. Then the water carried him across, and said to him: ‘I pray you, brother, ask Fate why I have no offspring.’ He promised the stream to ask the question, and then went on. He went on for a long time, and at last came to a wood, where he found a hermit, whom he asked whether he could tell him anything about Fate.The hermit answered: ‘Go over the hill yonder, and you will come right in front of his abode; but when you come into Fate’s presence, do not say a word, but do exactly what he does, until he questions you himself.’ The man thanked the hermit, and went over the hill. When he came to Fate’s abode, there was something for him to see. It was just as if it were an emperor’s palace; there were men-servants and maid-servants there; everything was in good order, and Fate himself was sitting at a golden dinner-table at supper, When the man saw this, he, too, sat down to table, and began to sup. After supper, Fate lay down to sleep, and he lay down too. About midnight a terrible noise arose, and out of the noise a voice was heard: ‘Fate! Fate! so many souls have been born to-day; assign them what you will.’ Then Fate arose, and opened a chest with money in it, and began to throw nothing but ducats behind him, saying: ‘As to me to-day, so to them for life!’ When on the morrow day dawned, that large palace was no more, but instead of it a moderate-sized house; but in it again there was enough of everything.At the approach of evening Fate sat down to supper; and he, too, sat down with him, but neither spoke a single word. After supper they lay down to sleep. About midnight a terrible noise began, and out of the noise was heard a voice: ‘Fate! Fate! so many souls have been born to-day; assign them what you will.’ Then Fate arose, and opened the money-chest; but there were not ducats in it, but silver coins, with an occasional ducat. Fate began to scatter the coins behind him, saying: ‘As to me to-day, so to them for life.’ When, on the morrow, day dawned, that house was no more, but instead of it there stood a smaller one. Thus did Fate every night, and his house became smaller every morning, till, finally, nothing remained of it but a little cottage. Fate took a mattock, and began to dig; the man, too, took a mattock and began to dig, and thus they dug all day. When it was eventide, Fate took a piece of bread, broke off half of it, and gave it to him. Thus they supped, and, after supper, lay down to sleep. About midnight, again, a terrible noise began, and out of the noise was heard a voice: ‘Fate! Fate! so many souls have been born to-day; assign them what you will.’ Then Fate arose, opened the chest, and began to scatter behind him nothing but bits of rag, and here and there a day-labourer’s wage-penny, * shouting: ‘As to me to-day, so to them for life.’When he arose on the morrow, the cottage was transformed into a large palace, like that which had been there the first day. Then Fate asked him: ‘Why have you come?’ He detailed to him all his distress, and said that he had come to ask him why he gave him evil luck. Fate then said to him: ‘You saw how the first night I scattered ducats, and what took place afterwards. As it was to me the night when anyone was born, so will it be to him for life. You were born on an unlucky night, you will he poor for life; but your brother I was born on a lucky night, and he will be lucky for life. But, as you have been so resolute, and have taken so much trouble, I will tell you how you may help yourself. Your brother has a daughter, Militza, who is lucky, just as her father is; adopt her, and, whatever you acquire, say that it is all hers.’Then he thanked Fate, and said to him again: ‘In such a village there is a wealthy peasant, who has enough of everything; but he is unlucky in this, that his people can never be satisfied: they eat up a caldron full of food at a single meal, and even that is too little for them. And this peasant’s father and mother are, as it were, fettered to this world; they are old and discoloured, and dried up like ghosts, but cannot die. He begged me, Fate, when I lodged with him for the night, to ask you why that was the case.’ Then Fate replied: ‘All that is because he does not honour his father and mother, throwing their food behind the stove; but, if he puts them in the best place at table, and if he gives them the first cup of brandy, and the first cup of wine, his servants would not eat half so much, and his parents’ souls would be set at liberty.’ After this he again questioned Fate: ‘In such a village, when I spent the night in a house, the householder complained to me that his cattle were not productive, but the contrary, and he begged me to ask you why this was the case.’ Fate replied: ‘That is because on the festival of his name-day he slaughters the worst animals; but if he slaughtered the best he has, his cattle would all become productive.’Then he asked him the question about the stream of water: ‘Why should it be that that stream of water has no offspring?’ Fate replied: ‘Because it has never drowned a human being; but don’t have any nonsense; don’t tell it till it carries you across, for if you tell it, it will immediately drown you.’ Then he thanked Fate, and went home. When he came to the water, the water asked him: ‘What is the news from Fate?’ He replied: ‘Carry me over, and then I will tell you.’ When the water had carried him over, he ran on a little, and, when he had got a little way off, turned and shouted to the water: ‘Water! Water! you have never drowned a human being, therefore you have no offspring.’ When the water heard that, it overflowed its banks, and after him; but he ran, and barely escaped. When he came to the man whose cattle were unproductive, he was impatiently waiting for him. ‘What news, brother, in God’s name? Have you asked Fate the question?’ He replied: ‘I have; and Fate says when you celebrate the festival of your name-day, you slaughter the worst animals; but if you slaughter the best you have, all your cattle will be productive.’ When he heard this, he said to him: ‘Stay, brother, with us; it isn’t three days to my name-day, and, if it is really true, I will give you an apple.’He stayed till the name-day. When the name-day arrived, the householder slaughtered his best ox, and from that time forth his cattle became productive. After this, the householder presented him with five head of cattle. He thanked him, and proceeded on his way. When he came to the village of the householder who had the insatiable servants, the householder was impatiently expecting him. ‘How is it, brother, in God’s name? What says Fate?’ He replied: ‘Fate says you do not honour your father and mother, but throw their food behind the stove for them to eat; if you put them in the best place at table, and give them the first cup of brandy, and the first cup of wine, your people will not eat half as much, and your father and mother will be content.’When the house-holder heard this, he told his wife, and she immediately washed and combed her father and mother in law, and put nice shoes on their feet; and, when evening came, the householder put them in the best place at table, and gave them the first cup of brandy and the first cup of wine. From that time forth the household could not eat half what they did before, and on the morrow both the father and the mother departed this life. Then the householder gave him two oxen; he thanked him, and went home. When he came to his place of abode, his acquaintances began to congratulate him, and ask him: ‘Whose are these cattle?’He replied to everybody: ‘Brother, they are my niece Militza’s.’ When he got home he immediately went off to his brother, and began to beg and pray him: ‘Give me, brother, your daughter Militza to be my daughter. You see that I have no one.’ His brother replied: ‘It is good, brother; Militza is yours.’ He took Militza, and conducted her home, and afterwards acquired much, but said, with regard to everything, that it was Militza’s. Once he went out into the field to go round some rye; the rye was beautiful; it could not be better. Thereupon a traveller happened to come up, and asked him: ‘Whose is this rye?’ He forgot himself, and said: ‘Mine.’ The moment he said that, the rye caught fire and began to burn. When he saw this, he ran after the man: ‘Stop, brother! it is not mine; it belongs to Militza, my niece.’ Then the fire in the rye went out, and he remained lucky with Militza.
In the old days there lived on a headland that juts out into the northwestern corner of Lake Rasval, in the neighborhood of the Linde mining-district, a charcoal-burner named Nils, generally known as Charcoal Nils. He let a farm-hand attend to his little plot of land, and he himself made his home in the forest, where he chopped wood in the summer and burned it to charcoal in the winter. Yet no matter how hard he struggled, his work was unblessed with reward, and no one ever spoke of him save as poor Charcoal Nils.One day, when he was on the opposite shore of the lake, near the gloomy Harsberg, a strange woman came up to him, and asked whether he needed some one to help him with his charcoal burning.“Yes, indeed,” said he, “help would be welcome.” So she began to gather blocks of wood and tree-trunks, more than Charcoal Nils could have dragged together with his horse, and by noon there was enough wood for a new kiln. When evening came, she asked the charcoal-burner whether he were satisfied with the day’s work she had done, and if she were to come back the next day.That suited the charcoal-burner perfectly, and she came back the next day and all the following ones. And when the kiln had been burned out she helped Nils clear it, and never before had he had such a quantity of charcoal, nor charcoal of so fine a quality.So she became his wife and lived with him in the wood for three years. They had three children, yet this worried Nils but little, seeing that she looked after them, and they gave him no trouble.But when the fourth year came, she grew more exacting, and insisted on going back to his home with him, and living with him there. Nils wished to hear nothing about this; yet since she was so useful to him in his charcoal-burning, he did not betray his feelings, and said he would think it over.It happened one Sunday that he went to church—where he had not been for many years, and what he heard there brought up thoughts he had not known since the innocent days of his childhood. He began to wonder whether there were not some hocus-pocus about the charcoal-burning, and whether it were not due to the forest woman, who aided him so willingly.Preoccupied with this and other thoughts, he forgot while returning to his kiln, that he had promised the strange woman at the very beginning, when she had first helped him, that, whenever he had been home and was returning to the kiln, he would rap three times with his ax against an old pine-tree not far from it. On this occasion, as we have said, he forgot the sign, and as a result he saw something that nearly robbed him of his wits.As he drew near the kiln, he saw it all aflame, and around it stood the three children and their mother, and they were clearing out the kiln. They were pulling down and putting out so that flames, smoke and ashes whirled sky-high, but instead of the spruce-branches that were generally used to put out the fire, they had bushy tails which they dipped in the snow!When Charcoal Nils had looked on for a while, he slunk back to the old pine-tree, and made its trunk echo to the sound of his three ax-strokes till one could hear them on the Harsberg. Then he went to the kiln, as though he had seen nothing, and all went on as before. The kiln was glowing with a handsome, even glow, and the tall woman was about and working as usual.As soon as she saw Charcoal Nils, she came back with her pressing demand that he take her home to his little house, and that they live there.“Yes, that shall come about,” said Nils to console her, and turned back home to fetch a horse. But instead he went out on the headline of Kallernäs, on the eastern shore of Lake Rasval, where a wise man lived, and asked the latter what he should do.The old man advised him to go home and hitch his horse to his charcoal-wagon, but to hitch the horse in such wise that there would be not a single loop either in the harness or traces. Then he was to mount the horse and ride back to the kiln without stopping, have the troll-woman and her children get into the wagon, and at once drive out on the ice with them.The charcoal-burner did as the old man told him, saddled his horse, paying strict attention that there were no loops in saddle or bridle, rode across the ice through the wood to his kiln, and told the troll-woman and her children to get in. Then he quickly turned back through the wood, out on the ice, and there let his horse run as fast as he could. When he reached the middle of the lake, he saw a pack of wolves running along in the direction of Aboda-land, at the northern end of the lake, and heading for the ice. Then he tore the saddle-harness from the traces, so that the wagon with the troll-folk was left standing on the bare ice, and rode as fast as his horse could carry him for the opposite shore. When the trolls saw the wolves they began to scream.“Turn back, turn back!” cried the mother. “And if you will not for my sake, then at least do so for the sake of Vipa (Peewee), your youngest daughter!” But Charcoal Nils rode for the shore without looking back. Then he heard the troll-woman calling on others for aid.“There is no loop to pull!” came the answer from deep within the Harsberg. “Then catch him at Harkallarn.” “He is not riding in that direction.” The reply came from Ringfels.And indeed Charcoal Nils did not ride in that direction; but over stick and stone straight to his own home. Yet when he reached his own courtyard, the horse fell, and a shot from the trolls tore away a corner of the stable. Nils shortly after fell sick, and had to lie a-bed for a number of weeks. When he was well again he sold his forest land, and worked the little farm by the cottage until his death. So that was one occasion when the troll-folk came off second best.
There was once upon a time a shepherd who had two children, a son and a daughter. When he was on his death-bed he turned to them and said, ‘I have nothing to leave you but three sheep and a small house; divide them between you, as you like, but don’t quarrel over them whatever you do.’When the shepherd was dead, the brother asked his sister which she would like best, the sheep or the little house; and when she had chosen the house he said, ‘Then I’ll take the sheep and go out to seek my fortune in the wide world. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be as lucky as many another who has set out on the same search, and it wasn’t for nothing that I was born on a Sunday.’{Listen to The Three Dogs plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for Apple and Android devices}And so he started on his travels, driving his three sheep in front of him, and for a long time it seemed as if fortune didn’t mean to favour him at all. One day he was sitting disconsolately at a cross road, when a man suddenly appeared before him with three black dogs, each one bigger than the other.‘Hullo, my fine fellow,’ said the man, ‘I see you have three fat sheep. I’ll tell you what; if you’ll give them to me, I’ll give you my three dogs.’In spite of his sadness, the youth smiled and replied, ‘What would I do with your dogs? My sheep at least feed themselves, but I should have to find food for the dogs.’‘My dogs are not like other dogs,’ said the stranger; ‘they will feed you instead of you them, and will make your fortune. The smallest one is called “Salt,” and will bring you food whenever you wish; the second is called “Pepper,” and will tear anyone to pieces who offers to hurt you; and the great big strong one is called “Mustard,” and is so powerful that it will break iron or steel with its teeth.’The shepherd at last let himself be persuaded, and gave the stranger his sheep. In order to test the truth of his statement about the dogs, he said at once, ‘Salt, I am hungry,’ and before the words were out of his mouth the dog had disappeared, and returned in a few minutes with a large basket full of the most delicious food. Then the youth congratulated himself on the bargain he had made, and continued his journey in the best of spirits.One day he met a carriage and pair, all draped in black; even the horses were covered with black trappings, and the coachman was clothed in crape from top to toe. Inside the carriage sat a beautiful girl in a black dress crying bitterly. The horses advanced slowly and mournfully, with their heads bent on the ground.‘Coachman, what’s the meaning of all this grief?’ asked the shepherd.At first the coachman wouldn’t say anything, but when the youth pressed him he told him that a huge dragon dwelt in the neighbourhood, and required yearly the sacrifice of a beautiful maiden. This year the lot had fallen on the King’s daughter, and the whole country was filled with woe and lamentation in consequence.The shepherd felt very sorry for the lovely maiden, and determined to follow the carriage. In a little it halted at the foot of a high mountain. The girl got out, and walked slowly and sadly to meet her terrible fate. The coachman perceived that the shepherd wished to follow her, and warned him not to do so if he valued his life; but the shepherd wouldn’t listen to his advice. When they had climbed about half-way up the hill they saw a terrible-looking monster with the body of a snake, and with huge wings and claws, coming towards them, breathing forth flames of fire, and preparing to seize its victim. Then the shepherd called, ‘Pepper, come to the rescue,’ and the second dog set upon the dragon, and after a fierce struggle bit it so sharply in the neck that the monster rolled over, and in a few moments breathed its last. Then the dog ate up the body, all except its two front teeth, which the shepherd picked up and put in his pocket.The Princess was quite overcome with terror and joy, and fell fainting at the feet of her deliverer. When she recovered her consciousness she begged the shepherd to return with her to her father, who would reward him richly. But the youth answered that he wanted to see something of the world, and that he would return again in three years, and nothing would make him change this resolve. The Princess seated herself once more in her carriage, and, bidding each other farewell, she and the shepherd separated, she to return home, and he to see the world.But while the Princess was driving over a bridge the carriage suddenly stood still, and the coachman turned round to her and said, ‘Your deliverer has gone, and doesn’t thank you for your gratitude. It would be nice of you to make a poor fellow happy; therefore you may tell your father that it was I who slew the dragon, and if you refuse to, I will throw you into the river, and no one will be any the wiser, for they will think the dragon has devoured you.’The maiden was in a dreadful state when she heard these words; but there was nothing for her to do but to swear that she would give out the coachman as her deliverer, and not to divulge the secret to anyone. So they returned to the capital, and everyone was delighted when they saw the Princess had returned unharmed; the black flags were taken down from all the palace towers, and gay- coloured ones put up in their place, and the King embraced his daughter and her supposed rescuer with tears of joy, and, turning to the coachman, he said, ‘You have not only saved the life of my child, but you have also freed the country from a terrible scourge; therefore, it is only fitting that you should be richly rewarded. Take, therefore, my daughter for your wife; but as she is still so young, do not let the marriage be celebrated for another year.’The coachman thanked the King for his graciousness, and was then led away to be richly dressed and instructed in all the arts and graces that befitted his new position. But the poor Princess wept bitterly, though she did not dare to confide her grief to anyone. When the year was over, she begged so hard for another year’s respite that it was granted to her. But this year passed also, and she threw herself at her father’s feet, and begged so piteously for one more year that the King’s heart was melted, and he yielded to her request, much to the Princess’s joy, for she knew that her real deliverer would appear at the end of the third year. And so the year passed away like the other two, and the wedding-day was fixed, and all the people were prepared to feast and make merry.But on the wedding-day it happened that a stranger came to the town with three black dogs. He asked what the meaning of all the feasting and fuss was, and they told him that the King’s daughter was just going to be married to the man who had slain the terrible dragon. The stranger at once denounced the coachman as a liar; but no one would listen to him, and he was seized and thrown into a cell with iron doors.While he was lying on his straw pallet, pondering mournfully on his fate, he thought he heard the low whining of his dogs outside; then an idea dawned on him, and he called out as loudly as he could, ‘Mustard, come to my help,’ and in a second he saw the paws of his biggest dog at the window of his cell, and before he could count two the creature had bitten through the iron bars and stood beside him. Then they both let themselves out of the prison by the window, and the poor youth was free once more, though he felt very sad when he thought that another was to enjoy the reward that rightfully belonged to him. He felt hungry too, so he called his dog ‘Salt,’ and asked him to bring home some food. The faithful creature trotted off, and soon returned with a table-napkin full of the most delicious food, and the napkin itself was embroidered with a kingly crown.The King had just seated himself at the wedding-feast with all his Court, when the dog appeared and licked the Princess’s hand in an appealing manner. With a joyful start she recognised the beast, and bound her own table-napkin round his neck. Then she plucked up her courage and told her father the whole story. The King at once sent a servant to follow the dog, and in a short time the stranger was led into the Kings presence. The former coachman grew as white as a sheet when he saw the shepherd, and, falling on his knees, begged for mercy and pardon. The Princess recognized her deliverer at once, and did not need the proof of the two dragon’s teeth which he drew from his pocket. The coachman was thrown into a dark dungeon, and the shepherd took his place at the Princess’s side, and this time, you may be sure, she did not beg for the wedding to be put off.The young couple lived for some time in great peace and happiness, when suddenly one day the former shepherd bethought himself of his poor sister and expressed a wish to see her again, and to let her share in his good fortune. So they sent a carriage to fetch her, and soon she arrived at the court, and found herself once more in her brother’s arms. Then one of the dogs spoke and said, ‘Our task is done; you have no more need of us. We only waited to see that you did not forget your sister in your prosperity.’ And with these words the three dogs became three birds and flew away into the heavens.
Once a Padishah had three daughters. Before setting out on a journey he called his daughters before him and instructed them to feed his favourite horse personally, and not to entrust that duty to any other, as he would allow no stranger near it. The Padishah went away, and the eldest daughter carried food to the stable: the horse, however, would not permit her to approach him. The second daughter made the attempt, with no better result. Then the youngest went to the horse, who was perfectly quiet, and willingly received the food and drink from her hands. The two eldest sisters were glad thus to be relieved of an irksome and disagreeable duty.When the Padishah returned home his first inquiry was as to whether his horse had been properly attended to during his absence. “He would not allow us even to go near him,” answered the two elder daughters, “but our youngest sister has fed him.”On hearing this the monarch said that she should be wife to the horse, his other daughters being given in marriage to the Vezir and Sheik-ul-Islam respectively, The triple wedding festivities lasted forty days, and the youngest then went to her stable, while her sisters were taken to their splendid palaces,Only in the daytime, how ever, had the youngest sister a horse for a husband and a stable for a dwelling. By night the stable was transformed into a rose garden and the horse into a handsome youth. Thus they lived in the utmost felicity, no one except themselves knowing their secret.It came to pass that the Padishah arranged a tournament in the court yard of the palace, and the bravest of all the knights who took part therein were the husbands of the monarch’s eldest daughters, “Look!” said they to their sister of the stable, “our husbands are like lions: see how beautifully they throw their lances. Where is your horse-husband?” At this the horse shook himself, changed into human form, mounted a steed, and begging his wife not to reveal his identity, he plunged into the fray. He overcame all the combatants, unhorsed his brothers-in-law, then vanished as completely as though he had never been there.Next day the tournament was continued, and the elder sisters treated the youngest with scorn and contempt; but again the unknown hero appeared, struck down all his opponents, and vanished as before.On the third day the horse-knight said to his wife: “If at any time I am in danger, or you are in need of help, burn these three hairs, and wherever you may be, I will come to you.” Then he hastened to the tournament and fought again with his brothers-in-law. His prowess evoked universal admiration even his sisters-in-law could not withhold their tribute of praise; but in ill-natured raillery they said to their youngest sister: “See how these knights understand the tournament; they are not like your horse-husband.”The poor woman could no longer forbear to answer that the beautiful and valiant knight was her husband; but even as she turned to point him out, he vanished. This reminded her that he had warned her never to divulge the secret. Overcome with remorse, she awaited eagerly his return to the stable, but in vain; neither horse nor man came–neither roses nor garden were to be hers that night.“Woe is me!” she groaned, “I have betrayed my husband; I have broken my promise; thus am I punished!” She did not close her eyes all night, but wept until morning. When it was daylight she went to her father the Padishah, and with tears told him what had happened, vowing that she would go in search of her husband even if she journeyed to the ends of the earth. In vain her father attempted to dissuade her. He reminded her that her husband was a Dew and consequently she would never find him; but all his arguments failed to shake her resolution.Grief stricken she set out on her quest, and walked so long that at last she sank exhausted at the foot of a mountain. Here, remembering the three hairs, she burned one of them, and the next instant her husband enfolded her in his arms. Both were almost speechless with joy.“Did I not counsel you never to betray our secret to anyone?” gently chided the youth. “If my mother sees us now she will separate us immediately. This mountain is our abode; my mother will be here directly, and woe to us if she catch sight of us.”The poor girl was terrified at these words, grieving bitterly that no sooner had she found her husband than she must lose him again. The Dew-son pitied her, gave her a light blow and changed her into an apple, which he put upon a shelf. Shrieking loudly, the witch flew down from the mountain, crying that she could smell human flesh and that human flesh she must have. In vain her son denied it–she refused to believe him.“If you will swear on the egg to do it no harm, I will show you what I have hidden,” said the youth. The witch accordingly promised, whereon the youth gave the apple a light blow and the beautiful maiden appeared. “Behold my wife!” said he. The old woman said nothing, but set her daughter-in-law some simple tasks, and went back to her work.For a few days the husband and wife were allowed to live in peace, but the old witch was only waiting till her son went away from home to wreak her vengeance on his wife. At last she found an opportunity. “Sweep and don’t sweep,” she commanded the maiden, and went away. The poor girl was perplexed to know what she must “sweep” and what “not sweep.” Recollecting the hairs, she took one and burnt it. Instantly her husband appeared, and she told him her difficulty. He explained that she must “sweep” the room and “not sweep” the courtyard.The maiden acted accordingly. Towards evening the witch came in and asked whether the work was done. “I have swept and not swept,” answered the daughter-in-law. “You deceitful thing!” scolded the old woman, “you have not thought that out for yourself; my son has certainly taught you.”Next day the old witch came again and gave the maiden three bowls, which she ordered her to fill with her tears. The maid wept and wept.continually, but failed to fill even one of the vessels. In her difficulty she burnt the third hair, whereupon her husband appeared and advised her to fill the bowls with water and add a quantity of salt thereto. This the maiden did, and when the old woman came home in the evening, she was shown the three vessels duly filled. “You cunning creature!” stormed the witch, “that is not your own work; but you and my son shall not cheat me again.”On the following day she ordered her daughter-in-law to make a pancake. But though the maiden sought everywhere, not a single ingredient for the purpose could she find. This time she could expect no help, for her husband was away, and the three magic hairs had all been burned. The youth, however, suspecting his mother’s wicked intentions, returned home unexpectedly to his wife, and seeing her in such grief he suggested that they should flee. “My mother will not rest until she has wrought your ruin,” he said. “Let us escape before she returns.” So they went together out into the wide world.In the evening the witch came home, and saw that both her daughter-in-law and son were missing. “The wretches have abandoned me!” she shrieked, and calling her witch-sister to her, she sent her to follow the fugitives and bring them back. The second witch got into a bowl, made a whip out of snakes, and was of like a lightning-flash. But the Dew-son, seeing his aunt behind them in the distance, gave the maiden a light blow and changed her into a swimming-bath. He transformed himself into a bath attendant, and stood before the door. The witch came up, alighted from the bowl, and inquired of him whether he had seen a youth and a maiden. “I am just warming the bath,” answered the youth; “there is no one in; if you do not believe me, go in and see for yourself.” The woman, perceiving she could do nothing with him, reentered the bowl, went back to her sister, and reported the failure of her errand.The witch asked her whether she had met anyone on the way. “Oh yes,” answered she, “I spoke to the attendant at the door of a swimming bath, but he was either deaf or stupid, for I could get nothing out of him.” “you were even more stupid,” scolded the witch, “not to recognize that the bath and the attendant were my daughter-in-law and son.” Now she called another sister and sent her after the fugitives.The Dew-son looking back, saw his other aunt coming towards them in a bowl. He knocked his wife gently and she became a spring; he himself stood beside and drew water. The witch came up and asked whether he had seen anything of a youth and a maiden. “This spring has excellent drinking-water,” the fellow answered with an air of simplicity. The woman, thinking he was too stupid to understand her questions, hurried back to her sister with the intelligence that she could see nothing of the missing couple. The witch inquired whether she had seen anyone on the way. “Only an imbecile drawing water from a spring,” was the answer. “That imbecile was my son,” exclaimed the witch in a great rage, “and the spring was his wife. I see I shall have to go myself.” So she stepped into the bowl, made a whip out of snakes, and set off.Looking back the youth now saw that his mother herself was coming. Striking the maid gently he turned her into a tree, and himself into a snake coiled round it. The witch knew them, and would have torn the tree to pieces if she could have done so without harming her son. So she said to the snake, “My son, at least show me the little finger of the maid and then I will leave you in peace.”The son saw that the only way to get rid of his mother was to do as she asked. He therefore allowed one of the maid’s fingers to become visible this his mother immediately devoured, and then vanished.At another gentle blow from her husband the maid again resumed her human form; and the two went home to her father, the Padishah. His talisman having been destroyed, the youth became a mortal, and as he was no longer a Dew, his witch-mother had no more power over him. The Padishah rejoiced in the return of his lost children, their marriage was again celebrated with great pomp, and after the old monarch’s decease they reigned in his stead.
Four miles from Pittsfield, Massachusetts, among the Berkshire Hills, is a wild valley, noted for its echoes, that for a century and more has been called Wizard’s Glen. Here the Indian priests performed their incantations, and on the red-stained Devil’s Altar, it was said, they offered human sacrifice to Hobomocko and his demons of the wood. In Berkshire’s early days a hunter, John Chamberlain, of Dalton, who had killed a deer and was carrying it home on his shoulders, was overtaken on the hills by a storm and took shelter from it in a cavernous recess in Wizard’s Glen. In spite of his fatigue he was unable to sleep, and while lying on the earth with open eyes he was amazed to see the wood bend apart before him, disclosing a long aisle that was mysteriously lighted and that contained hundreds of capering forms. As his eyes grew accustomed to the faint light he made out tails and cloven feet on the dancing figures; and one tall form with wings, around whose head a wreath of lightning glittered, and who received the deference of the rest, he surmised to be the devil himself. It was such a night and such a place as Satan and his imps commonly chose for high festivals.As he lay watching them through the sheeted rain a tall and painted Indian leaped on Devil’s Altar, fresh scalps dangling round his body in festoons, and his eyes blazing with fierce command. In a brief incantation he summoned the shadow hordes around him. They came, with torches that burned blue, and went around and around the rock singing a harsh chant, until, at a sign, an Indian girl was dragged in and flung on the block of sacrifice. The figures rushed toward her with extended arms and weapons, and the terrified girl gave one cry that rang in the hunter’s ears all his life after. The wizard raised his axe: the devils and vampires gathered to drink the blood and clutch the escaping soul, when in a lightning flash the girl’s despairing glance fell on the face of Chamberlain. That look touched his manhood, and drawing forth his Bible he held it toward the rabble while he cried aloud the name of God. There was a crash of thunder. The light faded, the demons vanished, the storm swept past, and peace settled on the hills.
Once on a time the fox was talking to the wolf of the strength of man; how no animal could withstand him, and how all were obliged to employ cunning in order to preserve themselves from him. Then the wolf answered, “If I had but the chance of seeing a man for once, I would set on him notwithstanding.” “I can help thee to do that,” said the fox. “Come to me early to-morrow morning, and I will show thee one.” The wolf presented himself betimes, and the fox took him out on the road by which the huntsmen went daily. First came an old discharged soldier. “Is that a man?” inquired the wolf. “No,” answered the fox, “that was one.” Afterwards came a little boy who was going to school. “Is that a man?” “No, that is going to be one.” At length came a hunter with his double-barrelled gun at his back, and hanger by his side. Said the fox to the wolf, “Look, there comes a man, thou must attack him, but I will take myself off to my hole.” The wolf then rushed on the man. When the huntsman saw him he said, “It is a pity that I have not loaded with a bullet,” aimed, and fired his small shot in his face. The wolf pulled a very wry face, but did not let himself be frightened, and attacked him again, on which the huntsman gave him the second barrel. The wolf swallowed his pain, and rushed on the huntsman, but he drew out his bright hanger, and gave him a few cuts with it right and left, so that, bleeding every- where, he ran howling back to the fox. “Well, brother wolf,” said the fox, “how hast thou got on with man?” “Ah!” replied the wolf, “I never imagined the strength of man to be what it is! First, he took a stick from his shoulder, and blew into it, and then something flew into my face which tickled me terribly; then he breathed once more into the stick, and it flew into my nose like lightning and hail; when I was quite close, he drew a white rib out of his side, and he beat me so with it that I was all but left lying dead.” “See what a braggart thou art!” said the fox. “Thou throwest thy hatchet so far that thou canst not fetch it back again!”
A poor wood-cutter lived with his wife and three daughters in a little hut on the edge of a lonely forest. One morning as he was about to go to his work, he said to his wife, “Let my dinner be brought into the forest to me by my eldest daughter, or I shall never get my work done, and in order that she may not miss her way,” he added, “I will take a bag of millet with me and strew the seeds on the path.”When, therefore, the sun was just above the centre of the forest, the girl set out on her way with a bowl of soup, but the field-sparrows, and wood-sparrows, larks and finches, blackbirds and siskins had picked up the millet long before, and the girl could not find the track. Then trusting to chance, she went on and on, until the sun sank and night began to fall. The trees rustled in the darkness, the owls hooted, and she began to be afraid. Then in the distance she perceived a light which glimmered between the trees.{Listen to The Hut in the Forest plus hundreds of other fairy tales in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}“There ought to be some people living there, who can take me in for the night,” thought she, and went up to the light. It was not long before she came to a house the windows of which were all lighted up. She knocked, and a rough voice from inside cried, “Come in.”The girl stepped into the dark entrance, and knocked at the door of the room. “Just come in,” cried the voice, and when she opened the door, an old gray-haired man was sitting at the table, supporting his face with both hands, and his white beard fell down over the table almost as far as the ground. By the stove lay three animals, a hen, a cock, and a brindled cow. The girl told her story to the old man, and begged for shelter for the night. The man said,“Pretty little hen,Pretty little cock,And pretty brindled cow,What say ye to that?”“Duks,” answered the animals, and that must have meant, “We are willing,” for the old man said, “Here you shall have shelter and food, go to the fire, and cook us our supper.”The girl found in the kitchen abundance of everything, and cooked a good supper, but had no thought of the animals. She carried the full dishes to the table, seated herself by the gray-haired man, ate and satisfied her hunger. When she had had enough, she said, “But now I am tired, where is there a bed in which I can lie down, and sleep?”The animals replied,“Thou hast eaten with him,Thou hast drunk with him,Thou hast had no thought for us,So find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”Then said the old man, “Just go upstairs, and thou wilt find a room with two beds, shake them up, and put white linen on them, and then I, too, will come and lie down to sleep.”The girl went up, and when she had shaken the beds and put clean sheets on, she lay down in one of them without waiting any longer for the old man. After some time, however, the gray-haired man came, took his candle, looked at the girl and shook his head. When he saw that she had fallen into a sound sleep, he opened a trap-door, and let her down into the cellar.Late at night the wood-cutter came home, and reproached his wife for leaving him to hunger all day. “It is not my fault,” she replied, “the girl went out with your dinner, and must have lost herself, but she is sure to come back to-morrow.”The wood-cutter, however, arose before dawn to go into the forest, and requested that the second daughter should take him his dinner that day. “I will take a bag with lentils,” said he; “the seeds are larger than millet, the girl will see them better, and can’t lose her way.”At dinner-time, therefore, the girl took out the food, but the lentils had disappeared. The birds of the forest had picked them up as they had done the day before, and had left none. The girl wandered about in the forest until night, and then she too reached the house of the old man, was told to go in, and begged for food and a bed. The man with the white beard again asked the animals,“Pretty little hen,Pretty little cock,And pretty brindled cow,What say ye to that?”The animals again replied “Duks,” and everything happened just as it had happened the day before. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank with the old man, and did not concern herself about the animals, and when she inquired about her bed they answered,“Thou hast eaten with him,Thou hast drunk with him,Thou hast had no thought for us,So find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”When she was asleep the old man came, looked at her, shook his head, and let her down into the cellar.On the third morning the wood-cutter said to his wife, “Send our youngest child out with my dinner to-day, she has always been good and obedient, and will stay in the right path, and not run about after every wild humble-bee, as her sisters did.”The mother did not want to do it, and said, “Am I to lose my dearest child, as well?”“Have no fear,” he replied, “the girl will not go astray; she is too prudent and sensible; besides I will take some peas with me, and strew them about. They are still larger than lentils, and will show her the way.”But when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the wood-pigeons had already got all the peas in their crops, and she did not know which way she was to turn. She was full of sorrow and never ceased to think how hungry her father would be, and how her good mother would grieve, if she did not go home. At length when it grew dark, she saw the light and came to the house in the forest. She begged quite prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, and the man with the white beard once more asked his animals,“Pretty little hen,Pretty little cock,And beautiful brindled cow,What say ye to that?”“Duks,” said they. Then the girl went to the stove where the animals were lying, and petted the cock and hen, and stroked their smooth feathers with her hand, and caressed the brindled cow between her horns, and when, in obedience to the old man’s orders, she had made ready some good soup, and the bowl was placed upon the table, she said, “Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good animals to have nothing? Outside is food in plenty, I will look after them first.”So she went and brought some barley and stewed it for the cock and hen, and a whole armful of sweet- smelling hay for the cow. “I hope you will like it, dear animals,” said she, “and you shall have a refreshing draught in case you are thirsty.”Then she fetched in a bucketful of water, and the cock and hen jumped on to the edge of it and dipped their beaks in, and then held up their heads as the birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow also took a hearty draught. When the animals were fed, the girl seated herself at the table by the old man, and ate what he had left. It was not long before the cock and the hen began to thrust their heads beneath their wings, and the eyes of the cow likewise began to blink. Then said the girl, “Ought we not to go to bed?”“Pretty little hen,Pretty little cock,And pretty brindled cow,What say ye to that?”The animals answered “Duks,”“Thou hast eaten with us,Thou hast drunk with us,Thou hast had kind thought for all of us,We wish thee good-night.”Then the maiden went upstairs, shook the feather-beds, and laid clean sheets on them, and when she had done it the old man came and lay down on one of the beds, and his white beard reached down to his feet. The girl lay down on the other, said her prayers, and fell asleep.She slept quietly till midnight, and then there was such a noise in the house that she awoke. There was a sound of cracking and splitting in every corner, and the doors sprang open, and beat against the walls. The beams groaned as if they were being torn out of their joints, it seemed as if the staircase were falling down, and at length there was a crash as if the entire roof had fallen in. As, however, all grew quiet once more, and the girl was not hurt, she stayed quietly lying where she was, and fell asleep again.But when she woke up in the morning with the brilliancy of the sunshine, what did her eyes behold? She was lying in a vast hall, and everything around her shone with royal splendour; on the walls, golden flowers grew up on a ground of green silk, the bed was of ivory, and the canopy of red velvet, and on a chair close by, was a pair of shoes embroidered with pearls.The girl believed that she was in a dream, but three richly clad attendants came in, and asked what orders she would like to give? “If you will go,” she replied, “I will get up at once and make ready some soup for the old man, and then I will feed the pretty little hen, and the cock, and the beautiful brindled cow.”She thought the old man was up already, and looked round at his bed; he, however, was not lying in it, but a stranger. And while she was looking at him, and becoming aware that he was young and handsome, he awoke, sat up in bed, and said, “I am a King’s son, and was bewitched by a wicked witch, and made to live in this forest, as an old gray-haired man; no one was allowed to be with me but my three attendants in the form of a cock, a hen, and a brindled cow. The spell was not to be broken until a girl came to us whose heart was so good that she showed herself full of love, not only towards mankind, but towards animals and that thou hast done, and by thee at midnight we were set free, and the old hut in the forest was changed back again into my royal palace.”And when they had arisen, the King’s son ordered the three attendants to set out and fetch the father and mother of the girl to the marriage feast.“But where are my two sisters?” inquired the maiden.“I have locked them in the cellar, and to-morrow they shall be led into the forest, and shall live as servants to a charcoal-burner, until they have grown kinder, and do not leave poor animals to suffer hunger.”
Once upon a time, when the world was flat and there were no mountains, there lived two brothers, sons of Lumawig, the Great Spirit. The brothers were fond of hunting, and since no mountains had formed there was no good place to catch wild pig and deer, and the older brother said:“Let us cause water to flow over all the world and cover it, and then mountains will rise up.”So they caused water to flow over all the earth, and when it was covered they took the head-basket of the town and set it for a trap. The brothers were very much pleased when they went to look at their trap, for they had caught not only many wild pigs and deer but also many people.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other creation tales, in our collection Creation Tales: International Tales, Myths, and Legends on How the World Was Created, now available on Amazon.}Now Lumawig looked down from his place in the sky and saw that his sons had flooded the earth and that in all the world there was just one spot which was not covered. And he saw that all the people in the world had been drowned except one brother and sister who lived in Pokis.Then Lumawig descended, and he called to the boy and girl, saying:“Oh, you are still alive.”“Yes,” answered the boy, “we are still alive, but we are very cold.”So Lumawig commanded his dog and deer to get fire for the boy and girl. The dog and the deer swam quickly away, but though Lumawig waited a long time they did not return, and all the time the boy and girl were growing colder.Finally Lumawig himself went after the dog and the deer, and when he reached them he said:“Why are you so long in bringing the fire to Pokis? Get ready and come quickly while I watch you, for the boy and girl are very cold.”Then the dog and the deer took the fire and started to swim through the flood, but when they had gone only a little way the fire was put out.Lumawig commanded them to get more fire and they did so, but they swam only a little way again when that of the deer went out, and that of the dog would have been extinguished also had not Lumawig gone quickly to him and taken it.As soon as Lumawig reached Pokis he built a big fire which warmed the brother and sister; and the water evaporated so that the world was as it was before, except that now there were mountains. The brother and sister married and had children, and thus there came to be many people on the earth.
A Lion once fell in love with a beautiful maiden and proposed marriage to her parents. The old people did not know what to say. They did not like to give their daughter to the Lion, yet they did not wish to enrage the King of Beasts. At last the father said: “We feel highly honored by your Majesty’s proposal, but you see our daughter is a tender young thing, and we fear that in the vehemence of your affection you might possibly do her some injury. Might I venture to suggest that your Majesty should have your claws removed, and your teeth extracted, then we would gladly consider your proposal again.” The Lion was so much in love that he had his claws trimmed and his big teeth taken out. But when he came again to the parents of the young girl they simply laughed in his face, and bade him do his worst. Love can tame the wildest.
Lean Lisa was of a very different way of thinking from lazy Harry and fat Trina, who never let anything disturb their peace. She scoured everything with ashes, from morning till evening, and burdened her husband, Long Laurence, with so much work that he had heavier weights to carry than an ass with three sacks. It was, however, all to no purpose, they had nothing and came to nothing. One night as she lay in bed, and could hardly move one limb for weariness, she still did not allow her thoughts to go to sleep. She thrust her elbows into her husband’s side, and said, “Listen, Lenz, to what I have been thinking: if I were to find one florin and one was given to me, I would borrow another to put to them, and thou too shouldst give me another, and then as soon as I had got the four florins together, I would buy a young cow.” This pleased the husband right well. “It is true,” said he, “that I do not know where I am to get the florin which thou wantest as a gift from me; but, if thou canst get the money together, and canst buy a cow with it, thou wilt do well to carry out thy project. I shall be glad,” he added, “if the cow has a calf, and then I shall often get a drink of milk to refresh me.” “The milk is not for thee,” said the woman, “we must let the calf suck that it may become big and fat, and we may be able to sell it well.” “Certainly,” replied the man, “but still we will take a little milk; that will do no harm.” “Who has taught thee to manage cows?” said the woman; “Whether it does harm or not, I will not allow it, and even if thou wert to stand on thy head for it, thou shouldst not have a drop of the milk! Dost thou think, because there is no satisfying thee, Long Laurence, that thou art to eat up what I earn with so much difficulty?” “Wife,” said the man, “be quiet, or I will give thee a blow on thy mouth!” “What!” cried she, “thou threatenest me, thou glutton, thou rascal, thou lazy Harry!” She was just laying hold of his hair, but long Laurence got up, seized both Lean Lisa’s withered arms in one hand, and with the other he pressed down her head into the pillow, let her scold, and held her until she fell asleep for very weariness. Whether she continued to wrangle when she awoke next morning, or whether she went out to look for the florin which she wanted to find, that I know not.
Bilber, the soft-furred sandhill rat, was once a man, and lived in a camp with Mayrah the wind for a mate. Mayrah was a strange mullayerh for a man, he was invisible. He could hold conversations with Bilber, but much as he desired it, Bilber could never see him. One day he said to Mayrah: “Why do you not become like me that I might see you?”“I can see you,” said Mayrah.“Yes, I know that you can, but I cannot see you, only hear you. I know you are there because you eat the food before you. You catch opossums, and get honey, but though I go with you, following your voice, yet I can never see you, and I long to see some one again.”“But I can see you, so I am all right.”“But I cannot see you, and I long to see some one again. I must travel away somewhere and join others of my tribe. If I could only see you I would not wish for a better mullayerh.”“Well, I am off hunting now. Are you coming?”“No, I will stay in the camp to-day.”Mayrah the wind went off, and when evening was at hand he was not yet back. Suddenly Bilber heard a roaring in the distance such as he had never heard before. Then he saw, where the sound seemed to be, a column of dust and leaves spouting up. “What sort of a storm is this?” he asked himself. “I never saw anything like it before. I will go up to that sand-ridge behind our camp and make a hole in the soft ground, into which I will get, so that this storm cannot take me away in its fury.”Off went Bilber hard as he could to the soft sandhill, the storm roaring behind him. There he made a hole and buried himself in it until the wind storm had passed.Up came the wind, tearing on to the ridge, whirling round the camp, sending the bark and boughs flying about. On, on he went round Bilber’s hole, but that he could not shift, so howling with impotent rage as he went, he passed on until his voice was heard only in the distance, and at length not at all.After a time Bilber came out. He had been so safe and warm in his hole in the sand that he lived there ever afterwards, and there he took his wife, when he found one, to live. And to this day the Bilber tribe live in burrows in the sand. They still hear the voice of the old Bilber’s mate, but never see his face, nor do they hear him speak any longer their language as of old, for so angry was he at Bilber’s desire to see his face or leave him, that he only howls and roars as he rushes past their camps. And never since have any of the tribes seen where he camps, nor does any one know except the six winds that blow, and they tell the secret to none.
I am going to tell you something: once upon a time an Indian man and woman lived near the village of Kotyete. They had a good home, cattle, sheep, corn fields, chickens, skins and blankets; but they had no children. They were growing old. Every day they prayed to the Great Spirit to send them a son, so that they might have someone to leave all of their good things to when they passed away to the Great Spirit’s home. They went to all of the sacred dances and always prayed for a son.There also lived near Kotyete a young man, who was half boy and half bear. It was Juan Half-Bear; but none of the Indians had ever seen him, for he hid away in the mountains. One day when the man and woman were in the village dancing in a sacred dance, this half-boy and half-bear went to their house. He wanted to live among the Indians; so he crawled into an open window to look around and see how they lived, so that he might do likewise. But while he was in there he heard the man and woman coming home, so he hid himself under a pile of blankets. The old people knelt down beside that same pile of blankets to say their daily prayer for a son.Juan Half-Bear“Great Spirit, we have tried to live at peace with all of our brothers; we have worshipped you in dance and in song; please send us a son to take care of and keep all of the good things you have given us!”Then as they were getting up, the old woman saw the boy under the blankets. She was frightened and called to her husband to “Look!”“Do not be afraid,” said the boy, “I am Juan Half-Bear. I have come to be your son. I have a home with many skins in it. Let the old man come with me and I will show them to him; and then if he is pleased with me, I shall come to live with you and be that son for whom you have been praying.”So the old man went with Juan Half-Bear to his home in the mountains. In the first room that they entered there was nothing; but in the next room there were many skins just as Juan had said. Juan seemed to be good and capable, so the old man took him back home with him.“Wife,” said he, “I like Juan Half-Bear. He seems a good boy and thrifty, for he has many skins; so I have brought him home with me to be our son.”Many days after that, all of the young Indian men of the village, including Juan Half-Bear, went out on a hunt to get meat for food and skins for clothing and beds. They camped up in the mountains and every day a young man was left in camp, while the others hunted, to cook for the hunters and to watch the game that had been killed.Each day for four days the young man who was left in camp mysteriously fell asleep while their food was cooking; and something, that made no noise and left no tracks, came and stole all of the food and all of the game that had been killed. Each day the young men promised and determined not to go to sleep; but each day something made them go to sleep against their will.On the Fifth day Juan Half-Bear’s turn came to stay in camp. “I shall not go to sleep,” he said “and I shall find out what this is stealing all of our things.”So Juan set to work to build a fire and cook some deer meat. Suddenly he felt himself growing very sleepy on his man’s side. He grew so sleepy that he had to lie down and let his man’s side go to sleep; but his bear’s eye stayed wide awake.Very soon a witch-giant came out of the woods and took away all of the meat and the deer that had been killed. Juan Half-Bear jumped up and followed him. The giant went into a big cave. The floor of the cave was covered with prickly cactuses. The needles on the cactuses stuck Juan’s man-leg so bad that he could not stand the pain in that leg; but they could not hurt his hairy bear-leg, so Juan hopped on his bear-leg and followed the giant through the cactuses. When the giant saw Juan following him he laughed “Ha, Ha!” in a loud terrible voice; for he thought that he could soon put an end to Juan. Then the giant rolled a stone away from the door and went into another room. He thundered to Juan, “Now follow me in here if you dare!” Juan did dare to follow him; but just as he entered the door two mountain lions jumped at him. Juan turned his bear side to the lions and killed them both.The giant went into another cave room. Juan went in, too. He was determined to catch and kill that giant and take back the Indians’ deer from him. Two more mountain lions sprang at Juan; but Juan was too quick for them and he killed them, also. Then he grabbed the giant and killed him in a big bear hug.In that last room Juan found many fine skins and all the deer that the witch giant had stolen. He took all the things that he found back to camp with him.When the hunters returned he had delicious roasted meat ready for them. He told them about the witch-giant and shared with them all the things he had brought from the cave.So when the hunters returned home, the Indians had a big buffalo and deer dance; and they made Juan Half-Bear their great War-Chief.
Once upon a time a lot of fairies lived in Mona.One day the queen fairy’s daughter, who was now fifteen years of age, told her mother she wished to go out and see the world.The queen consented, allowing her to go for a day, and to change from a fairy to a bird, or from a bird to a fairy, as she wished.When she returned one night she said:“I’ve been to a gentleman’s house, and as I stood listening, I heard the gentleman was witched: he was very ill, and crying out with pain.”“Oh, I must look into that,” said the queen.So the next day she went through her process and found that he was bewitched by an old witch. So the following day she set out with six other fairies, and when they came to the gentleman’s house she found he was very ill.Going into the room, bearing a small blue pot they had brought with them, the queen asked him:“Would you like to be cured?”“Oh, bless you; yes, indeed.”Whereupon the queen put the little blue pot of perfume on the centre of the table, and lit it, when the room was instantly filled with the most delicious odour.Whilst the perfume was burning, the six fairies formed in line behind her, and she leading, they walked round the table three times, chanting in chorus:  “Round and round three times three,We have come to cure thee.”At the end of the third round she touched the burning perfume with her wand, and then touched the gentleman on the head, saying:“Be thou made whole.”No sooner had she said the words than he jumped up hale and hearty, and said:“Oh, dear queen, what shall I do for you? I’ll do anything you wish.”“Money I do not wish for,” said the queen, “but there’s a little plot of ground on the sea-cliff I want you to lend me, for I wish to make a ring there, and the grass will die when I make the ring. Then I want you to build three walls round the ring, but leave the sea-side open, so that we may be able to come and go easily.”“With the greatest of pleasure,” said the gentleman; and he built the three stone walls at once, at the spot indicated.Near the gentleman lived the old witch, and she had the power of turning at will into a hare. The gentleman was a great hare hunter, but the hounds could never catch this hare; it always disappeared in a mill, running between the wings and jumping in at an open window, though they stationed two men and a dog at the spot, when it immediately turned into the old witch. And the old miller never suspected, for the old woman used to take him a peck of corn to grind a few days before any hunt, telling him she would call for it on the afternoon of the day of the hunt. So that when she arrived she was expected.One day she had been taunting the gentleman as he returned from a hunt, that he could never catch the hare, and he struck her with his whip, saying “Get away, you witchcraft!”Whereupon she witched him, and he fell ill, and was cured as we have seen.When he got well he watched the old witch, and saw she often visited the house of an old miser who lived near by with his beautiful niece. Now all the people in the village touched their hats most respectfully to this old miser, for they knew he had dealings with the witch, and they were as much afraid of him as of her; but everyone loved the miser’s kind and beautiful niece.When the fairies got home the queen told her daughter:“I have no power over the old witch for twelve months from to-day, and then I have no power over her life. She must lose that by the arm of a man.”So the next day the daughter was sent out again to see whether she could find a person suited to that purpose.In the village lived a small crofter, who was afraid of nothing; he was the boldest man thereabouts; and one day he passed the miser without saluting him. The old fellow went off at once and told the witch.“Oh, I’ll settle his cows to-night!” said she, and they were taken sick, and gave no milk that night.The fairy’s daughter arrived at his croft-yard after the cows were taken ill, and she heard him say to his son, a bright lad:“It must be the old witch!”When she heard this, she sent him to the queen.So next day the fairy queen took six fairies and went to the croft, taking her blue pot of perfume. When she got there she asked the crofter if he would like his cows cured?“God bless you, yes!” he said.The queen made him bring a round table into the yard, whereon she placed the blue pot of perfume, and having lit it, as before, they formed in line and walked round thrice, chanting the words:  “Round and round three times three,We have come to cure thee.”Then she dipped the end of her wand into the perfume, and touched the cows on the forehead, saying to each one:“Be thou whole.”Whereupon they jumped up cured.The little farmer was overjoyed, and cried:“Oh, what can I do for you? What can I do for you?”“Money I care not for,” said the queen, “all I want is your son to avenge you and me.”The lad jumped up and said:“What I can do I’ll do it for you, my lady fairy.”She told him to be at the walled plot the following day at noon, and left.The next day at noon, the queen and her daughter and three hundred other fairies came up the cliff to the green grass plot, and they carried a pole, and a tape, and a mirror. When they reached the plot they planted the pole in the ground, and hung the mirror on the pole. The queen took the tape, which measured ten yards and was fastened to the top of the pole, and walked round in a circle, and wherever she set her feet the grass withered and died. Then the fairies followed up behind the queen, and each fairy carried a harebell in her left-hand, and a little blue cup of burning perfume in her right. When they had formed up the queen called the lad to her side, and told him to walk by her throughout. They then started off, all singing in chorus:  “Round and round three times three,Tell me what you see.”When they finished the first round, the queen and lad stopped before the mirror, and she asked the lad what he saw?  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,It is the witch that I see,”said the lad. So they marched round again, singing the same words as before, and when they stopped a second time before the mirror the queen again asked him what he saw?  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,It is a hare that I see,”said the lad.A third time the ceremony and question were repeated.  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,The hares run up the hill to the mill.”“Now”, said the queen, “there is to be a hare-hunting this day week; be at the mill at noon, and I will meet you there.”And then the fairies, pole, mirror, and all, vanished and only the empty ring on the green was left.Upon the appointed day the lad went to his tryst, and at noon the Fairy Queen appeared, and gave him a sling, and a smooth pebble from the beach, saying:“I have blessed your arms, and I have blessed the sling and the stone.  “Now as the clock strikes three,Go up the hill near the mill,And in the ring stand stillTill you hear the click of the mill.Then with thy arm, with power and might,You shall strike and smiteThe devil of a witch called Jezabel light,And you shall see an awful sight.”The lad did as he was bidden, and presently he heard the huntsman’s horn and the hue and cry, and saw the hare running down the opposite hill-side, where the hounds seemed to gain on her, but as she breasted the hill on which he stood she gained on them. As she came towards the mill he threw his stone, and it lodged in her skull, and when he ran up he found he had killed the old witch. As the huntsmen came up they crowded round him, and praised him; and then they fastened the witch’s body to a horse by ropes, and dragged her to the bottom of the valley, where they buried her in a ditch. That night, when the miser heard of her death, he dropped down dead on the spot.As the lad was going home the queen appeared to him, and told him to be at the ring the following day at noon.Next day all the fairies came with the pole and mirror, each carrying a harebell in her left-hand, and a blue cup of burning perfume in her right, and they formed up as before, the lad walking beside the queen. They marched round and repeated the old words, when the queen stopped before the mirror, and said:“What do you see?”  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,It is an old plate-cupboard that I see.”A second time they went round, and the question, was repeated.  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,The back is turned to me.”A third time was the ceremony fulfilled, and the lad answered  “I see, I see, the mirror tells me,A spring-door is open to me.”“Buy that plate-cupboard at the miser’s sale,” said the queen, and she and her companions disappeared as before.Upon the day of the sale all the things were brought out in the road, and the plate-cupboard was put up, the lad recognising it and bidding up for it till it was sold to him. When he had paid for it he took it home in a cart, and when he got in and examined it, he found the secret drawer behind was full of gold. The following week the house and land, thirty acres, was put up for sale, and the lad bought both, and married the miser’s niece, and they lived happily till they died.
Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen. They had three sons, two of them with their wits about them, but the third a simpleton. Now the King had a deer park in which were quantities of wild animals of different kinds. Into that park there used to come a huge beast–Norka was its name–and do fearful mischief, devouring some of the animals every night. The King did all he could, but he was unable to destroy it. So at last he called his sons together and said, `Whoever will destroy the Norka, to him will I give the half of my kingdom.’Well, the eldest son undertook the task. As soon as it was night, he took his weapons and set out. But before he reached the park, he went into a traktir (or tavern), and there he spent the whole night in revelry. When he came to his senses it was too late; the day had already dawned. He felt himself disgraced in the eyes of his father, but there was no help for it. The next day the second son went, and did just the same. Their father scolded them both soundly, and there was an end of it.Well, on the third day the youngest son undertook the task. They all laughed him to scorn, because he was so stupid, feeling sure he wouldn’t do anything. But he took his arms, and went straight into the park, and sat down on the grass in such a position that the moment he went asleep his weapons would prick him, and he would awake.Presently the midnight hour sounded. The earth began to shake, and the Norka came rushing up, and burst right through the fence into the park, so huge was it. The Prince pulled himself together, leapt to his feet, crossed himself, and went straight at the beast. It fled back, and the Prince ran after it. But he soon saw that he couldn’t catch it on foot, so he hastened to the stable, laid his hands on the best horse there, and set off in pursuit. Presently he came up with the beast, and they began a fight. They fought and fought; the Prince gave the beast three wounds. At last they were both utterly exhausted, so they lay down to take a short rest. But the moment the Prince closed his eyes, up jumped the beast and took to flight. The Prince’s horse awoke him; up he jumped in a moment, and set off again in pursuit, caught up the beast, and again began fighting with it. Again the Prince gave the beast three wounds, and then he and the beast lay down again to rest. Thereupon away fled the beast as before. The Prince caught it up, and again gave it three wounds. But all of a sudden, just as the Prince began chasing it for the fourth time, the beast fled to a great white stone, tilted it up, and escaped into the other world, crying out to the Prince: `Then only will you overcome me, when you enter here.’The Prince went home, told his father all that had happened, and asked him to have a leather rope plaited, long enough to reach to the other world. His father ordered this to be done. When the rope was made, the Prince called for his brothers, and he and they, having taken servants with them, and everything that was needed for a whole year, set out for the place where the beast had disappeared under the stone. When they got there, they built a palace on the spot, and lived in it for some time. But when everything was ready, the youngest brother said to the others: `Now, brothers, who is going to lift this stone?’Neither of them could so much as stir it, but as soon as he touched it, away it flew to a distance, though it was ever so big– big as a hill. And when he had flung the stone aside, he spoke a second time to his brothers, saying:`Who is going into the other world, to overcome the Norka?’Neither of them offered to do so. Then he laughed at them for being such cowards, and said:`Well, brothers, farewell! Lower me into the other world, and don’t go away from here, but as soon as the cord is jerked, pull it up.’His brothers lowered him accordingly, and when he had reached the other world, underneath the earth, he went on his way. He walked and walked. Presently he espied a horse with rich trappings, and it said to him:`Hail, Prince Ivan! Long have I awaited thee!’He mounted the horse and rode on–rode and rode, until he saw standing before him a palace made of copper. He entered the courtyard, tied up his horse, and went indoors. In one of the rooms a dinner was laid out. He sat down and dined, and then went into a bedroom. There he found a bed, on which he lay down to rest. Presently there came in a lady, more beautiful than can be imagined anywhere but in a fairy tale, who said:`Thou who art in my house, name thyself! If thou art an old man, thou shalt be my father; if a middle-aged man, my brother; but if a young man, thou shalt be my husband dear. And if thou art a woman, and an old one, thou shalt be my grandmother; if middle-aged, my mother; and if a girl, thou shalt be my own sister.’Thereupon he came forth. And when she saw him she was delighted with him, and said:`Wherefore, O Prince Ivan–my husband dear shalt thou be!– wherefore hast thou come hither?’Then he told her all that had happened, and she said:`That beast which thou wishest to overcome is my brother. He is staying just now with my second sister, who lives not far from here in a silver palace. I bound up three of the wounds which thou didst give him.’Well, after this they drank, and enjoyed themselves, and held sweet converse together, and then the Prince took leave of her, and went on to the second sister, the one who lived in the silver palace, and with her also he stayed awhile. She told him that her brother Norka was then at her youngest sister’s. So he went on to the youngest sister, who lived in a golden palace. She told him that her brother was at that time asleep on the blue sea, and she gave him a sword of steel and a draught of the Water of Strength, and she told him to cut off her brother’s head at a single stroke. And when he had heard these things, he went his way.And when the Prince came to the blue sea, he looked–there slept the Norka on a stone in the middle of the sea; and when it snored, the water was agitated for seven miles around. The Prince crossed himself, went up to it, and smote it on the head with his sword. The head jumped off, saying the while, `Well, I’m done for now!’ and rolled far away into the sea.After killing the beast, the Prince went back again, picking up all the three sisters by the way, with the intention of taking them out into the upper world: for they all loved him and would not be separated from him. Each of them turned her palace into an egg –for they were all enchantresses–and they taught him how to turn the eggs into palaces, and back again, and they handed over the eggs to him. And then they all went to the place from which they had to be hoisted into the upper world. And when they came to where the rope was, the Prince took hold of it and made the maidens fast to it. Then he jerked away at the rope and his brothers began to haul it up. And when they had hauled it up, and had set eyes on the wondrous maidens, they went aside and said: `Let’s lower the rope, pull our brother part of the way up, and then cut the rope. Perhaps he’ll be killed; but then if he isn’t, he’ll never give us these beauties as wives.’So when they had agreed on this, they lowered the rope. But their brother was no fool; he guessed what they were at, so he fastened the rope to a stone, and then gave it a pull. His brothers hoisted the stone to a great height, and then cut the rope. Down fell the stone and broke in pieces; the Prince poured forth tears and went away. Well, he walked and walked. Presently a storm arose; the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, the rain fell in torrents. He went up to a tree in order to take shelter under it, and on that tree he saw some young birds which were being thoroughly drenched. So he took off his coat and covered them over with it, and he himself sat down under the tree. Presently there came flying a bird–such a big one that the light was blotted out by it. It had been dark there before, but now it became darker still. Now this was the mother of those small birds which the Prince had covered up. And when the bird had come flying up, she perceived that her little ones were covered over, and she said, `Who has wrapped up my nestlings?’ and presently, seeing the Prince, she added: `Didst thou do that? Thanks! In return, ask of me anything thou desirest. I will do anything for thee.’`Then carry me into the other world,’ he replied.`Make me a large vessel with a partition in the middle,’ she said; `catch all sorts of game, and put them into one half of it, and into the other half pour water; so that there may be meat and drink for me.’All this the Prince did. Then the bird–having taken the vessel on her back, with the Prince sitting in the middle of it– began to fly. And after flying some distance she brought him to his journey’s end, took leave of him, and flew away back. But he went to the house of a certain tailor, and engaged himself as his servant. So much the worse for wear was he, so thoroughly had he altered in appearance, that nobody would have suspected him of being a Prince.Having entered into the service of this master, the Prince began to ask what was going on in that country. And his master replied: `Our two Princes–for the third one has disappeared–have brought away brides from the other world, and want to marry them, but those brides refuse. For they insist on having all their wedding- clothes made for them first, exactly like those which they used to have in the other world, and that without being measured for them. The King has called all the workmen together, but not one of them will undertake to do it.’The Prince, having heard all this, said, `Go to the King, master, and tell him that you will provide everything that’s in your line.’`However can I undertake to make clothes of that sort? I work for quite common folks,’ says his master.`Go along, master! I will answer for everything,’ says the Prince.So the tailor went. The King was delighted that at least one good workman had been found, and gave him as much money as ever he wanted. When his tailor had settled everything, he went home. And the Prince said to him:`Now then, pray to God, and lie down to sleep; to-morrow all will be ready.’ And the tailor followed his lad’s advice, and went to bed.Midnight sounded. The Prince arose, went out of the city into the fields, took out of his pocket the eggs which the maidens had given him, and, as they had taught him, turned them into three palaces. Into each of these he entered, took the maidens’ robes, went out again, turned the palaces back into eggs, and went home. And when he got there he hung up the robes on the wall, and lay down to sleep.Early in the morning his master awoke, and behold! there hung such robes as he had never seen before, all shining with gold and silver and precious stones. He was delighted, and he seized them and carried them off to the King. When the Princesses saw that the clothes were those which had been theirs in the other world, they guessed that Prince Ivan was in this world, so they exchanged glances with each other, but they held their peace. And the master, having handed over the clothes, went home, but he no longer found his dear journeyman there. For the Prince had gone to a shoemaker’s, and him too he sent to work for the King; and in the same way he went the round of all the artificers, and they all proffered him thanks, inasmuch as through him they were enriched by the King.By the time the princely workman had gone the round of all the artificers, the Princesses had received what they had asked for; all their clothes were just like what they had been in the other world. Then they wept bitterly because the Prince had not come, and it was impossible for them to hold out any longer; it was necessary that they should be married. But when they were ready for the wedding, the youngest bride said to the King:`Allow me, my father, to go and give alms to the beggars.’He gave her leave, and she went and began bestowing alms upon them, and examining them closely. And when she had come to one of them, and was going to give him some money, she caught sight of the ring which she had given to the Prince in the other world, and her sisters’ rings too–for it really was he. So she seized him by the hand, and brought him into the hall, and said to the King:`Here is he who brought us out of the other world. His brothers forbade us to say that he was alive, threatening to slay us if we did.’Then the King was wroth with those sons, and punished them as he thought best. And afterwards three weddings were celebrated.
Once upon a time something very extraordinary happened. If it had not happened, it would not be told.There was once a husband and wife. The husband had a son by a former marriage, and the wife had a daughter by her first husband. This wicked woman could not bear the sight of her husband’s son. One day she said: “Husband! If you don’t send that boy away, I can’t eat at the same table with you any longer.”“But where shall I send him, wife? Let him stay till he is a little older, then he will set up housekeeping for himself.”“I mean just what I told you—choose.”When the man saw that he could do nothing with his wife, he said to the boy: “My dear son, you see I am growing old. I can no longer do work enough to need no assistance. Your mother won’t have you here. So go wherever the Lord may lead you to earn your daily bread, and, if it is His will, I’ll come to see you now and then if I can.”“I see, dear father, that my step-mother can’t bear the sight of me, yet I don’t know why. I have never been disobedient to her, but have always done every thing she told me; still, it is all in vain, she can’t endure me. So I will go and work wherever God may guide me. I shall be able to earn my daily bread, for I’m a stout, capable lad. But come and see me if you can, father, for I feel as if I should die of longing for you.”“Go and prosper, my dear son; may the Lord help you.”“May we have a happy meeting, dear father.”And the poor boy, with tears streaming down his cheeks, left his father’s house. He walked on till at last he met a rich man, to whom he hired himself as a servant. He remained in service seven years, and his master was well satisfied, but suddenly such a longing for his father seized upon him that he could bear it no longer. He told his employer that he was going to see his parents, and his master said:“Boy, you have worked on my farm seven years, and served me well. Does the place no longer suit you, or have you been offered higher wages elsewhere, that you want to leave me?”“No indeed, master. But I long to go home,—I feel as if I wanted to see my father again. If you think you still owe me any thing, please settle my account.”“Well, my boy, one can’t keep a servant by force, and you fixed no rate of wages when you came to me. As a reward for the services you have rendered, you may choose from my herds two head of horned cattle and ten smaller ones.”When the boy heard this, he hardly knew what to do with himself in his delight at the thought of having earned so much by his labor. He went among the herds and flocks, looking up and down, and wondering which animals he should choose. He did not want to take the best ones, because he thought his services were not worth so much. But neither did he want to select the worst, he could not make up his mind to that. So he chose from those of medium value. He did the same with the horned cattle. But in searching his eyes fell upon an ox, which also gazed longingly at the youth. So he took this ox and a cow.Now he had no other thought in his mind except to go to his parents, believing that his step-mother would no longer look askance at him. So he bade his master good-by and went away. Just think, the ox was bewitched, but the boy did not know it. He named the animal Tellerchen.He reached home. His father died of joy and came to life again when he saw his son, who had grown tall and handsome, and so sensible too. But the wicked old step-mother behaved like seven evil demons,—nay, like the witch she was. The youth staid in his father’s house, helped him work in the fields, drove the cattle to pasture, and made himself very useful. Whenever he went to the pasture with the cattle his mother gave him a cake; but it was made of ashes, and he could not eat it. What was he to do? At noon, instead of having something to eat like every body else, he sat under the shade of a tree and wept over his lot, but he could not bring himself to tell his father, lest he should make trouble between him and his wife. He had no comfort at home, no companions abroad, and so he grew sad and thoughtful. One day, when he was crying with hunger, and even the herdsmen who had left their oxen were eating, Tellerchen suddenly began to speak and said:“Master, don’t grieve any longer, throw the ash-cake away, seize my right horn, and eat and drink what you will find there.”“Why, Tellerchen,” replied the youth, “there must be witchcraft about you too. Where was such a thing ever heard of, and how long have you been able to talk?”“Mind what I tell you. I see you are an excellent lad, and I am sorry you should weep your youth away. Just try my advice, and you’ll see that it will be profitable to you.”And it was. The youth seized Tellerchen’s right horn. Behold what happened! He drew out a roll as white as snow, and a glass of wine which would have made any one’s mouth water. The lad ate and drank.The step-mother noticed that the youth’s face had grown fuller, that he was in good spirits, and did all his work cheerily. Instead of seeing him grow thinner day by day, as she had expected, he constantly gained flesh. She soon discovered that Tellerchen must be at the bottom of the mystery, for she perceived that the boy took much better care of him than of the other cattle. How should she manage to find out what he did and ate in the woods? She secretly sent her daughter after him, and ordered her to watch what the youth did while pasturing the cattle. The girl followed her step-brother without his knowledge, watched him, returned to her mother and said, “Mother, what I have seen to-day is beyond telling!”“You met the Wood Witch?”“A wrong guess,” the daughter replied.“You have seen a wizard, a dragon, or a griffin?”“No indeed! Heaven forbid!”“Or did a handsomer, richer, and more sensible youth follow you?”“What an idea! But it’s useless for you to rack your brains, you can’t guess.”“Then tell me what you saw, and don’t chatter about it any longer.”“Mother, my step-brother’s ox is enchanted.”“Didn’t I always say that there was something the matter with the accursed beast?”“If you could have seen how he hugged and kissed him, sometimes on the right and sometimes on the left cheek, mother. I really felt as though my heart would stop beating. Then directly after he seized his right horn and pulled out some white rolls and wine, which he devoured as if the wolves were after him. I tell you my mouth watered when I saw him eat so greedily. Yet what amazed me still more was to hear the ox talk. I stood with my mouth wide open, staring at him.”“Never mind, I’ll get even with him.”The step-mother did not like the ox, and urged her husband to have him slaughtered, neither more nor less. All night long she teased him about it. The poor old man told her that the animal was not his, but his son’s, that he was a fine beast and might yet be very useful to them. But she would not listen, and never stopped talking until he had promised to kill the ox. Luckily the youth was awake and heard it all. As soon as morning dawned he went to Tellerchen to curry and clean the animal as he always did, but began to weep, and told the ox the fate in store for him. Tellerchen told him he must stand outside the house on the bench by the door, and when the people were chasing him, to catch him and take him to the shambles, he must jump on his back as he passed by. This was done, and after the ox had escaped he took his master to a forest far more beautiful than any the boy had ever seen. There they built huts, and lived as if they were in clover, for the grass in the surrounding meadows was so tall that a man might have lost himself in it, and was always so green and blooming that it made excellent pasturage.One day, when the youth was sitting comfortably before his hut, playing on the flute, while the ox grazed at some distance, up came an enormous bull, so fat that his hide seemed ready to burst.“Why did you come here, youngster, with your Tellerchen, to drink my water and feed on my grass?” he asked.“I didn’t know that this was your property,” answered the youth, “Tellerchen brought me here.”“Then tell him he must come to the Gold Bridge to-morrow and fight with me.” After saying this, he went away.When the ox came home at night he found the youth more sorrowful than ever before. “What ails you, master, that you stand there as if you were stupefied?” asked the ox.“What ails me?” replied the youth. “Why, I’m in a fine fix!” And he repeated all that the bull had said.“Never mind, master, don’t worry about it, leave that to me.”Early the next morning the ox left the lad in the hut and set off to the Gold Bridge to fight with the bull; he fought till he had pushed him under the bridge, and then came back home safe and sound.Two days after another bull came, somewhat smaller than the first one. After saying the same things the other had said, he summoned Tellerchen to fight at the Silver Bridge. The ox again found his master weeping, soothed him as he had done before, and went to fight the second bull and hurl him under the bridge.After several days a third bull appeared, a feeble, unsightly, ugly, dirty animal, and said to the boy: “Who gave you leave to come here with your Tellerchen to drink my water and spoil the grass in my meadows?”“What business is it of yours?” replied the youth pertly.“If it isn’t my business, whose affair should it be?” replied the bull. “Whichever of you two will dare to fight with me may come to-morrow to the Copper Bridge.”“Don’t worry,” replied the youth carelessly, “we will come.”When Tellerchen returned from the pasture in the evening, his master, with great amusement, told him every thing that had happened.“Your mirth is out of place,” replied the ox, “for my time has now come. The bull, sick and emaciated as he was, will overpower me. Watch our battle to-morrow, for I will not let you fight with him; you are young and delicate, and still have a great deal to see in the world. When you perceive that he is conquering me and about to push me under the bridge, rush forward and seize my left horn, but don’t open it till you have reached home.”When the youth heard this, he began to weep so that he could not be quieted, and grieved so much all night long that he had no sleep.Early the next morning he went with Tellerchen to the Copper Bridge, where the puny-looking bull awaited them. They began the struggle, and fought and fought until toward the afternoon. Sometimes the ox gored the bull, at others the bull the ox, and the victory still remained undecided. But when the afternoon was nearly over the ox’s strength failed, and, while the bull was carrying him off and in the very act of hurling him under the bridge, the boy rushed up and wrenched off his left horn.He wept,—Heaven knows how bitterly the poor lad wept by the bridge. But seeing that his Tellerchen did not come out again from under the bridge and it was growing dark, he set off with his horn, and a heart bleeding with grief. He spent the night on a hill. The next day hunger vexed him, and thinking he should find something to eat in the horn Tellerchen had left him, he opened it.What, I beg to ask you, do you suppose happened then! Whence came the countless multitude of all sorts of cattle? How could he drive them home? and to get them back into the horn again was impossible. He owned this to himself and began to weep bitterly. While thus lamenting, lo and behold! a dragon came up to him and said:—“What will you give me, boy, if I put all these beasts back into the horn for you?”“Half of them,” replied the lad.“I’ve no fancy for that,” said the dragon, “I want something else.”“Tell me what it is, and I’ll see.”“When you love life best I am to be allowed to come and take the dearest thing you have, to devour it.”The lad, without exactly knowing what he was doing, agreed.The dragon rapped three times with its tail and put all the cattle back in the horn, which the boy then took and went to his father, whom he found alone. No one knew what had become of the old woman and her daughter, they had vanished from the house.When the peasant saw his son grown into a youth he almost lost his senses with joy, but managed to calm himself. His son opened the horn, and instantly the fields and surrounding country were so filled with cattle that every body was bewildered.“Do all these flocks and herds belong to you?” asked the old man.“All, father. What shall we do with this multitude of beasts.”“Relieve the sorrows of the widows and the poor,” he replied.The youth followed his father’s advice. There was no day the Lord bestowed on which he did not render some service to those who needed aid. So it happened that not a single pauper was left in the neighborhood. News of the wealth and benevolence of the old man’s son reached the imperial court, and as the emperor had a very clever and beautiful daughter, he sent to ask the youth to become her suitor.When the young man heard that the emperor wanted him for a son-in-law he was greatly astonished. But, on being summoned to the court, he went there and behaved with so much good sense and dignity that the sovereign was not at all sorry he had cast his eye upon him. The princess liked him because he was a handsome, proud, spirited Roumanian youth. Then, after having agreed among themselves, a wedding was celebrated whose fame spread through the whole country. The young man’s father was there too.After the dances and amusements of the marriage were over and every body had gone home, the old man, according to ancient custom, placed in the room where the emperor’s son-in-law and his bride were to sleep a roll of snow-white bread. Then he, too, went to rest.What happened during the night? The emperor’s son-in-law suddenly saw the dragon, which, with one jaw on the upper cornice of the door and the other on the threshold beneath, told the young fellow it had come to settle their account and he must now give up to be devoured the bride sleeping beside him, whom he loved like the apple of his eye.The old man’s son, who had long since forgotten the settlement, did not know what to do. He dared not rush upon the dragon and kill it, because he knew that they had made this bargain; his father had often told him that, when a man has given his word, he has also pledged his soul. Yet his heart would not let him yield up his beloved wife for the dragon to devour. While he was torturing himself in trying to think what he could do to neither break his promise nor give up his bride, the bread on the table began to jump about and said:“Hi, dragon, I’ve been sowed, grew up, was mowed down and fastened into a bundle, yet I bore it, do you now bear your trouble, too, and go into the depths of the sea.”The dragon stood waiting. The bread went on:“Then I was carried to the barn, horses trampled on me, I was winnowed and taken to the mill. Bear your troubles as I’ve borne mine, and go, that we may hear your name no more.”The dragon still waited, and its tongue darted about in its mouth like lightning. The emperor’s son-in-law and his bride remained perfectly quiet. The bread spoke again:“Then I was ground, taken home, sifted, kneaded with water, put into the oven, and baked till my eyes almost started out of my head, yet I bore it. Do you bear it too, you accursed dragon, and may you burst.”The noise that echoed through the air, as the dragon burst, was so loud that every body in the palace awoke. Men came running to the spot, what did they see? A monster of a dragon, burst and split open. It was so huge that all shrank away in terror.Afterward they took the carcass, carried it out of the palace, and gave it to the ravens. Then the emperor’s son-in-law related the whole affair. When the people in the palace heard it, they all thanked God for having worked such a miracle and permitted the emperor’s children to escape safe and sound. Then they lived in peace and happiness and did good every where, and if they have not died, they may be alive now.
Long, long ago, in the time of my grandfather’s grandfather, there was a drought over all of the land. A fox and her little foxes grew very thirsty; so the mother fox left her babies to go far away in search of water. She found a spring; and without drinking any herself, she filled her mouth with water for her babies, for she had no other way to carry it, and her babies would die for want of water.As she was setting out for home a meadow lark, sitting on a rock, saw her and sang, “Fox, fox has a sharp mouth.”“Ha, Ha!” laughed Mrs. Fox and spilled all of her water.Back she went to the spring and filled her mouth again. But when she passed the meadow lark, the lark sang out, “Fox, fox has a sharp mouth.” And Mrs. Fox could not help laughing again. She lost all of the water in a big spray.Once more she went back to the spring for a mouthful of water. She thought of her babies and she was determined not to spill the water this time; so she took wet clay and pasted her lips together. She wanted to glue her mouth shut so that she could not laugh and spill the water.“Now, Miss Meadow Lark can try all she pleases to make me laugh,” thought Mrs. Fox and she trotted along toward her babies.“Fox, fox has a sharp mouth,” once more sang Miss Meadow Lark.Mrs. Fox tried hard not to laugh; but Miss Meadow Lark twisted her head on one side and sang again. It sounded so funny that Mrs. Fox just had to laugh. “Crack” went the clay on her lips and out spilled all of the water.It was no use to try to carry water. Mrs. Fox just rolled and rolled over with laughter. Finally she got up and went home still laughing. She was laughing so that she had forgotten all about her babies. What a poor mother she was!But when she reached her den, her laugh changed into a wail and poor Mrs. Fox rolled over and over in grief; for there were all of her baby foxes dead for want of water.Very soon she grew so angry at the meadow lark that she wanted to go right away and eat her up. She ran as fast as she could to the rock where Miss Meadow Lark had been sitting; but Miss Meadow Lark had wisely flown away. So in her temper Mrs. Fox bit the rock until she injured her mouth and broke all of her teeth off.Then she ran back to the spring for a drink of water, for by this time she was nearly famished. When she leaned over the spring to drink, there was another fox in the water with blood running out of her mouth. Mrs. Fox jumped back in horror, “The spring is poisoned,” she thought, “I cannot drink there.” And so poor Mrs. Fox ran away and died herself of thirst.
Once upon a time in the country of Japan there lived two frogs, one of whom made his home in a ditch near the town of Osaka, on the sea coast, while the other dwelt in a clear little stream which ran through the city of Kioto. At such a great distance apart, they had never even heard of each other; but, funnily enough, the idea came into both their heads at once that they should like to see a little of the world, and the frog who lived at Kioto wanted to visit Osaka, and the frog who lived at Osaka wished to go to Kioto, where the great Mikado had his palace.So one fine morning in the spring they both set out along the road that led from Kioto to Osaka, one from one end and the other from the other. The journey was more tiring than they expected, for they did not know much about travelling, and half way between the two towns there arose a mountain which had to be climbed. It took them a long time and a great many hops to reach the top, but there they were at last, and what was the surprise of each to see another frog before him! They looked at each other for a moment without speaking, and then fell into conversation, explaining the cause of their meeting so far from their homes. It was delightful to find that they both felt the same wish–to learn a little more of their native country–and as there was no sort of hurry they stretched themselves out in a cool, damp place, and agreed that they would have a good rest before they parted to go their ways.‘What a pity we are not bigger,’ said the Osaka frog; ‘for then we could see both towns from here, and tell if it is worth our while going on.’‘Oh, that is easily managed,’ returned the Kioto frog. ‘We have only got to stand up on our hind legs, and hold on to each other, and then we can each look at the town he is travelling to.’This idea pleased the Osaka frog so much that he at once jumped up and put his front paws on the shoulders of his friend, who had risen also. There they both stood, stretching themselves as high as they could, and holding each other tightly, so that they might not fall down. The Kioto frog turned his nose towards Osaka, and the Osaka frog turned his nose towards Kioto; but the foolish things forgot that when they stood up their great eyes lay in the backs of their heads, and that though their noses might point to the places to which they wanted to go their eyes beheld the places from which they had come.‘Dear me!’ cried the Osaka frog, ‘Kioto is exactly like Osaka. It is certainly not worth such a long journey. I shall go home!’‘If I had had any idea that Osaka was only a copy of Kioto I should never have travelled all this way,’ exclaimed the frog from Kioto, and as he spoke he took his hands from his friend’s shoulders, and they both fell down on the grass. Then they took a polite farewell of each other, and set off for home again, and to the end of their lives they believed that Osaka and Kioto, which are as different to look at as two towns can be, were as like as two peas.
Long, long ago, in the region beyond the Everlasting White Mountains of Northern Korea, there lived a king who was waited on by a handsome young woman servant. Every day she gladdened her eyes by looking southward, where the lofty mountain peak, which holds the Dragon’s Pool in its bosom, lifts its white head to the sky. When tired out with daily toil, she thought of the river that flows from the Dragon’s Pool, down out of the mountain. She hoped that some time she would have a son that would rule over the country which the river watered so richly.One day, while watching the mountain top, she saw coming from the east a tiny bit of shining vapor. Floating like a white cloud in the blue sky, it seemed no bigger than an egg. It came nearer and nearer, until it seemed to go into the bosom of her dress. Very soon she became the mother of a boy. It was indeed a most beautiful child.But the jealous king was angry. He did not like the little stranger. So he took the baby and threw it down among the pigs in the pen, thinking that this would be the last of the boy. But no! the sows breathed into the baby’s nostrils and their warm breath made it live. When the king’s servants heard the little fellow crowing, they went out to see what made the noise, and there they beheld a happy baby not seeming to mind its odd cradle at all. They wanted to give him food at once but the angry king again ordered the child to be thrown away, and this time into the stable. So the servants took the boy by the legs and laid him among the horses, expecting that the animals would tread on him and he would be thus put out of the way.But no, the mares were gentle, and, with their warm breath, they not only kept the little fellow from getting cold, but they nourished him with their milk so that he grew fat and hearty. When the king heard of this wonderful behavior of pigs and horses, be bowed his head toward Heaven. It seemed the will of the Great One in the Sky that the boy baby should live and grow up to be a man. So he listened to its mother’s prayers and allowed her to bring her child into the palace. There he grew up and was trained like one of the king’s sons. As a sturdy youth, he practiced shooting with bow and arrows and became skilful in riding horses. He was always kind to animals. In the king’s dominions any man who was cruel to a horse was punished. Whoever struck a mare, so that the animal died, was himself put to death. The young man was always merciful to his beasts.So the king named the youthful archer and horseman East Light, or Radiance of the Morning and made him Master of the Royal Stables. East Light, as the people liked to say his name, became very popular. They also called him Child of the Sun and Grandson of the Yellow River. One day while out on the mountains hunting deer, bears, and tigers, the king called upon the young archer to show his prowess in shooting arrows. East Light drew his bow and showed skill such as no one else could equal. He sent shaft after shaft whistling into the target and brought down both running deer and flying birds. Then all applauded the handsome youth.But instead of the king’s commending Kast Light, the king became very jealous of him, fearing that he might want to be on the throne. Nothing that the young man could do seemed now to please his royal master. So, fearing he might lose his life if he remained near the king, Eaat Light with three trusty followers fled southward until he came to a great, deep river, wide and impassable. How to get across he knew not, for no boat was at hand and the time was too short to make a raft, for behind him were his enemies swiftly pursuing him. In a great strait, he cried out: “Alas, shall I, the child of the Sun and the Grandson of the Yellow River, be stopped here powerless by this stream?”Then, as if his father, the Sun, had whispered to him what to do, he drew his bow and shot many arrows here and there into the water, nearly emptying his quiver. For a few moments nothing happened. To his companions it seemed a waste of good weapons. What would their leader have to fight his pursuers when they appeared, if his quiver were empty?But in a moment more, the waters appeared to be strangely agitated. Soon they were flecked and foaming. From up and down the stream, and in front of them, the fish were swimming toward East Light, poking their noses out of the water as if they would say: “Get on our backs and we’ll save you.” They crowded together in so dense a mass that on their spines a bridge was soon formed, on which men could stand.“Quick, let us flee, shouted East Light.” Unknown illustrator, published in The Unmannerly Tiger and other Korean Tales by William Elliot Griffis (1911), Thomas Y. Crowell Company.“Quick!” shouted East Light to his companions, ” let us fly. Behold the king’s horsemen coming down the hill after us. “So over the bridge of fish backs, scaly and full of spiny, fins, the four young men fled over the waters. As soon as they gained the opposite shore, the bridge of fishes dissolved. Yet scarcely had they swum away, when those who were in pursuit had gained the water’s edge, on the furthest side. In vain the king’s soldiers shot their war arrows to kill East Light and his three companions. The shafts fell short and the river was too deep and wide to swim their horses over. So the four young men escaped safely.Marching on further a few miles, East Light met three strange persons, who seemed to be awaiting his coming. They welcomed him warmly and invited him to be their king and rule over their city. The first was dressed in seaweed, the second in hempen garments and the third in embroidered robes. These men represented the three classes of society; first fishermen and hunters; second farmers and artisans; and lastly rulers of the tribes.So in this land named Fuyu, rich in the five grains, wheat, rice and millet, bean and sugar-cane, the new king was joyfully welcomed by his new subjects. The men were tall, brave and courteous. Besides being good archers, they rode horses skilfully. They ate out of bowls with chop-sticks and used round dishes at their feasts. They wore ornaments of large pearls and jewels of red jade cut and polished.The Fuyu people gave the fairest virgin in their realm to be the bride of King East Light and she became a gracious queen, greatly beloved of her subjects and many children were born to them. East Light ruled long and happily. Under his reign the people of Fuyu became civilized and highly proaperous. He taught the proper relations of ruler and ruled and the laws of marriage, besides better methods of cooking and house-building. He also showed them how to dress their hair. He introduced the wearing of the topknot. For thousands of years topknots had been the fashion in Fuyu and in Korea.Hundreds of years after East Light died, and all the tribes and states in the peninsula south of the Everlasting White Mountains wanted to become one nation and one kingdom ; they called their country after East Light, but in a more poetical form, — Chosen, which means Morning Radiance or the Land of the Morning Calm.
In a little provincial town, in the time of the year when people say “the evenings are drawing in,” there was one evening quite a social gathering in the home of a father of a family. The weather was still mild and warm. The lamp gleamed on the table; the long curtains hung down in folds before the open windows, by which stood many flower-pots; and outside, beneath the dark blue sky, was the most beautiful moonshine. But they were not talking about this. They were talking about the old great stone which lay below in the courtyard, close by the kitchen door, and on which the maids often laid the cleaned copper kitchen utensils that they might dry in the sun, and where the children were fond of playing. It was, in fact, an old gravestone.“Yes,” said the master of the house, “I believe the stone comes from the old convent churchyard; for from the church yonder, the pulpit, the memorial boards, and the gravestones were sold. My father bought the latter, and they were cut in two to be used as paving-stones; but that old stone was kept back, and has been lying in the courtyard ever since.”“One can very well see that it is a gravestone,” observed the eldest of the children; “we can still decipher on it an hour-glass and a piece of an angel; but the inscription which stood below it is quite effaced, except that you may read the name of Preben, and a great S close behind it, and a little farther down the name of Martha. But nothing more can be distinguished, and even that is only plain when it has been raining, or when we have washed the stone.“On my word, that must be the gravestone of Preben Schwane and his wife!”These words were spoken by an old man; so old, that he might well have been the grandfather of all who were present in the room.“Yes, they were one of the last pairs that were buried in the old churchyard of the convent. They were an honest old couple. I can remember them from the days of my boyhood. Every one knew them, and every one esteemed them. They were the oldest pair here in the town. The people declared that they had more than a tubful of gold; and yet they went about very plainly dressed, in the coarsest stuffs, but always with splendidly clean linen. They were a fine old pair, Preben and Martha! When both of them sat on the bench at the top of the steep stone stairs in front of the house, with the old linden tree spreading its branches above them, and nodded at one in their kind gentle way, it seemed quite to do one good. They were very kind to the poor; they fed them and clothed them; and there was judgment in their benevolence and true Christianity. The old woman died first: that day is still quite clear before my mind. I was a little boy, and had accompanied my father over there, and we were just there when she fell asleep. The old man was very much moved, and wept like a child. The corpse lay in the room next to the one where we sat; and he spoke to my father and to a few neighbours who were there, and said how lonely it would be now in his house, and how good and faithful she (his dead wife) had been, how many years they had wandered together through life, and how it had come about that they came to know each other and to fall in love. I was, as I have told you, a boy, and only stood by and listened to what the others said; but it filled me with quite a strange emotion to listen to the old man, and to watch how his cheeks gradually flushed red when he spoke of the days of their courtship, and told how beautiful she was, and how many little innocent pretexts he had invented to meet her. And then he talked of the wedding-day, and his eyes gleamed; he seemed to talk himself back into that time of joy. And yet she was lying in the next room—dead—an old woman; and he was an old man, speaking of the past days of hope! Yes, yes, thus it is! Then I was but a child, and now I am old—as old as Preben Schwane was then. Time passes away, and all things change. I can very well remember the day when she was buried, and how Preben Schwane walked close behind the coffin. A few years before, the couple had caused their gravestone to be prepared, and their names to be engraved on it, with the inscription, all but the date. In the evening the stone was taken to the churchyard, and laid over the grave; and the year afterwards it was taken up, that old Preben Schwane might be laid to rest beside his wife. They did not leave behind them anything like the wealth people had attributed to them: what there was went to families distantly related to them—to people of whom until then one had known nothing. The old wooden house, with the seat at the top of the steps, beneath the lime tree, was taken down by the corporation; it was too old and rotten to be left standing. Afterwards, when the same fate befell the convent church, and the graveyard was levelled, Preben’s and Martha’s tombstone was sold, like everything else, to any one who would buy it; and that is how it has happened that this stone was not hewn in two, as many another has been, but that it still lies below in the yard as a scouring-bench for the maids and a plaything for the children. The high-road now goes over the resting-place of old Preben and his wife. No one thinks of them any more.”And the old man who had told all this shook his head scornfully.“Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!” he said.And then they spoke in the room of other things; but the youngest child, a boy with great serious eyes, mounted up on a chair behind the window-curtains, and looked out into the yard, where the moon was pouring its radiance over the old stone—the old stone that had always appeared to him so tame and flat, but which lay there now like a great leaf out of a book of chronicles. All that the boy had heard about old Preben and his wife seemed concentrated in the stone; and he gazed at it, and looked at the pure bright moon and up into the clear air, and it seemed as though the countenance of the Creator was beaming over His world.“Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!” was repeated in the room.But in that moment an invisible angel kissed the boy’s forehead, and whispered to him:“Preserve the seed-corn that has been entrusted to thee, that it may bear fruit. Guard it well! Through thee, my child, the obliterated inscription on the old tombstone shall be chronicled in golden letters to future generations! The old pair shall wander again arm-in-arm through the streets, and smile, and sit with their fresh healthy faces under the lime tree on the bench by the steep stairs, and nod at rich and poor. The seed-corn of this hour shall ripen in the course of time to a blooming poem. The beautiful and the good shall not be forgotten; it shall live on in legend and in song.”
A long time ago lived a Padishah who had no son. As he was taking a walk with his lala one day, they came to a well, near which they stopped to wish. A dervish suddenly appeared and cried: “All hail, my Padishah!” upon which the latter made answer: “If you know that I am the Padishah, then can you tell me the cause of my sorrow.” The dervish drew an apple from his breast and said: “Your sorrow is that you have no son. Take this apple; eat half yourself and give the other half to your wife; then in due time you shall have a son. He shall belong to you till his twentieth year afterwards he is mine.”With these words he vanished. The Padishah went home to his palace, and cut the apple, sharing it with his wife according to the instructions of the dervish. Some time later, as the wizard had promised, a little prince came to the palace and the Padishah, in his great joy, ordered the happy event to be celebrated throughout his dominions.When the boy was five years old a tutor was appointed to teach him reading and writing. In his thirteenth year he began to take walks and go on journeys, and soon after wards he took part in the hunting excursions also. When he was nearing his twentieth year his father began to think of finding him a wife. A suitable maiden being discovered, the young couple were betrothed, but on the very day of the wedding, when all the guests had assembled in readiness for the ceremony, the dervish came and carried off the bridegroom to the foot of a mountain. With the words “Remain in peace” he went away. In great fear the young Prince looked around him, but saw nothing more alarming than three white doves flying towards the river on whose bank he was resting.As they alighted, they were transformed into three beautiful maidens, who entered the water to bathe. Presently two of them came out, resumed their bird forms, and flew away. As the third maiden left the water, she caught sight of the young Prince. Much astonished at his presence, she inquired how he had come there.“A dervish carried me hither,” he answered, whereon the girl rejoined: “That dervish is my father. When he comes, he will take you by your hair, hang you on that tree, and flog you with a whip. ‘Dost know? he will ask, and to this question you must answer, ‘I know not.'” Having given this advice, the girl, transforming herself into a white dove, flew quickly away.Presently the young Prince saw the dervish approaching with a whip in his hand. He hung the youth by his hair to a tree; flogged him soundly, and asked, “Dost know?” When the young Prince answered “I know not” the dervish went away. For three days in succession the youth was beaten black and blue; but when the dervish had satisfied himself that his victim under stood nothing at all, he set him free.“Did a youth and a maiden pass this way?” she inquired.When the youth was out walking one day the dove came to him and said: “Take this bird and hide it. When my father asks which of the three maidens you desire, point to me; if, however, you do not recognise me, produce the bird and answer: ‘I desire the maiden to whom this bird shall fly.'”“The three maidens.” Illustration by Willy Pogany, published in Forty-Four Turkish Fairy Tales by Ignácz Kúnos (1913), George G. Harrap & Co. LondonThe next day the dervish brought with him the three maidens and asked the youth which of them pleased him best. The youth accordingly produced the bird and said that he desired her to whom the bird should fly. The bird was set free and alighted on the maiden who had instructed him.She was given in marriage to the youth, but without the consent of her mother, who was a witch.While the youth and the maiden were walking together, they saw the mother coming after them. The maiden, giving the youth a knock, changed him into a large garden, and by another knock changed herself into a gardener. When the woman came up she inquired: “Gardener, did not a maiden and a youth pass this way?” The gardener answered: “My red turnips are not yet ripe–they are still small.” The witch retorted: “My dear Gardener, I do not ask about your turnips, but about a youth and a maiden.” But the gardener only replied: “I have set no spinach, it will not be up for a month or two.” Seeing she was not understood, the woman turned and went away. When the woman was no longer in sight, the gardener knocked the garden, which became a youth again, and knocked herself and became a maiden once more.They now walked on. The woman turning back and seeing them together, hastened to overtake them. The maiden also turned round and saw her mother hurrying after them. Quickly she gave the youth a knock and turned him into an oven, knocked herself and became a baker. The mother came up and asked: “Baker, have not a youth and a maiden passed this way?” “The bread is not yet baked–I have just put it in; come again in half an hour, then you may have some,” was the answer. At this the woman said: “I did not ask you for bread; I inquired whether a youth and a maiden had passed this way.” The reply was as little to the point as before. “Wait a while; when the bread is ready we will eat” When the woman saw she was not understood she went away again. As soon as the coast was clear the baker knocked the oven, which became a youth, and knocked herself back into a maiden; then they pursued their way.Looking back once more the woman again saw the youth and the maiden.She now realised that the oven and the baker were the runaways in disguise, and hurried after them. Seeing that her mother was coming, the maiden again knocked the youth and changed him into a pond; herself she changed into a duck swimming upon the water. When the woman arrived at the pond she ran to and fro seeking a place whence she could reach the opposite side. At length, seeing she could go no further, she turned round and went home again. The danger over, the duck struck the pond and changed it into the youth; and transformed herself into a maiden as before; upon which they resumed their journey.Wandering onward they came at length to the birthplace of the youth, where they entered an inn. Then said he to the maiden: “Remain here while I fetch a carriage to take you away.” On the road he encountered the dervish, who seized him and transported him immediately to his father’s palace, and set him down in the great hall where the wedding-guests were still waiting. The Prince looked round at them all, and rubbed his eyes, Had he been dreaming? “What can it all mean?” he said to himself.Meanwhile, the maiden at the inn, seeing that the youth returned not, said to herself: “The faithless one has forsaken me.” Then she transformed herself into a dove, and flew to the palace. Through an open window she entered the great hall, and alighted on the Prince’s shoulder. “Faithless one!” she said reproachfully, “to leave me alone at the inn whilst you are making merry here!” Saying this, she flew back immediately to the inn.When the youth realised that it was no dream, but fact, he took a carriage and returned without delay to the inn, put the maiden into the coach, and took her to the palace. By this time the first bride had grown tired of waiting for so eccentric a bridegroom and had gone home. So the Prince married the dervish’s daughter, and the wedding festivities lasted forty days and forty nights.
Once upon a time, when fairies were as plentiful as dandelions in the meadow, there dwelt in Ireland a mighty king and his good queen. The names of these great rulers have long since been forgotten by writers of history, for they lived hundreds and hundreds of years ago.They ruled over Erin, and lived in a great stone castle built high upon a cliff overlooking the sea. Erin was the most beautiful part of Ireland, for its forests and great stretches of land were as green as the emerald, and its skies and waters were as blue as the turquoise.This king and queen had but one child, who was known as the Prince of Erin. He was a bright, handsome boy, but he cared only to have a good time. His father had often told him how wrong it was for him to make bets, but the lad gave no heed to his advice.One day the prince went out in the wood to hunt for deer. He tramped about all day long, carrying his bow and arrows, but no deer could he find. At last he sat down to rest.He was almost asleep when he heard a shrill whistle behind him and the tramping of heavy feet upon the fallen timbers.“Who are you?” cried a loud, gruff voice.The prince turned quickly and saw a giant striding towards him down the hill. He was almost as tall as the tallest tree, and his face was frightful to see. His eyes were like balls of fire and his nostrils belched forth black smoke.“Woe is me; it is the Giant of Loch Lein!” cried the prince. He wanted to run away as fast as he could, but his feet would not move. He stood trembling in every limb, for he knew that the Giant of Loch Lein hunted in the wood for boys just as the boys hunted for game. Many a lad had been seized by the terrible creature, taken to his castle in the heart of the forest, and had never returned to his parents.“Who are you?” again roared the giant.“I am the son of the King of Erin,” replied the boy, trying to be brave.“I have been waiting for you a long time,” said the giant with a laugh that sounded like a thunder clap. “I have never eaten a real prince, although I have heard that their meat is very tender.”The prince turned away, weak with fright; but the giant seized him and said:“Do not be frightened. As you are a son of the Ruler of Erin, I will give you a chance to escape. I understand that you can play fine games, and that you are fond of betting. Let us play a game on this hillside. If I win, I will take you to my castle, never to return to your home again.”The prince was so fond of playing games that, even in his fright, he agreed to do as the giant wished.“I have two fine estates, each containing a castle,” said the giant. “They are yours if you beat me at the game.”“And I also have two estates which shall be yours, if you beat me,” replied the prince. “No man in Erin has ever beaten me at any game.”So they played until dusk, the prince quite forgetting his fear of the giant. Although the Giant of Loch Lein was a skillful player, the Prince of Erin beat him badly.“You may go,” grumbled the giant when the game was at an end. “You are surely a wonderful player—the best in all the land.”Most of the old historians agree that the Prince of Erin did not tell his parents anything about his narrow escape from the giant. As soon as he reached home, he climbed to the top of the tallest tower where he could gaze at the forest in the distance, in which stood the castle of the giant.“I will go again tomorrow and beat the giant, for it will be huge sport,” he said to himself. “Even if I be beaten, the giant dare not destroy the son of the King of Erin, for my father’s army will search for me and tear down the castle of the giant when I am found. Besides, I understand that he has three beautiful daughters, the fairest girls in all the land. I should like to see them.”On the next morning, while the prince was preparing to go hunting, the wisest old man in the court, whose name was Glic, went to the king and said:“The prince is about to go hunting. I beg you not to let him go, for I fear that some great danger will befall him.”The king commanded his son to stay inside the palace all day; but when no one was looking, the prince stole away to the hillside near the forest. Again he heard a shrill whistle that shook the boughs of the trees like a gale, and in a few moments he saw the giant striding towards him.“Ho, ho, my young prince!” cried the giant. “I knew that you would come back today. Let us have another game. What will you wager that you can beat me playing?”“I will wager my herd of cattle,” said the prince, not so much frightened as before.“And I will wager five hundred bullocks with gold horns and silver hoofs,” said the giant. “I am quite sure you cannot beat me again.”“Agreed,” said the prince, and at once they began to play.In a short time the prince won the game, and the giant set up a howl of rage. Turning towards the forest he whistled loudly three times, and five hundred bullocks with gold horns and silver hoofs came forth.“They are yours,” said the giant. “Follow them to your palace gate and come again tomorrow.”The prince, filled with the delight of triumph, followed the cattle to the palace gate where the king’s herder took charge of them. Then he hastened to his father and mother and bade them go to see the costly wager he had won from the Giant of Loch Lein.The king and queen and all the court were delighted with the cattle, whose gold horns and silver hoofs shone in the sunlight.On the third morning the Prince of Erin again put on his hunting clothes and started to the forest; but Glic, the fortune teller, again stopped him.“No good can come from this gaming, for the giant will beat you at last, and you will never return to us again,” said Glic.“I am not afraid,” laughed the prince, “for if he take me prisoner, I will have his head.”So he set forth again, singing a merry tune. Hardly had he seated himself upon the hillside when he heard the giant’s whistle. The prince was not at all frightened, although the giant scowled with anger because he had been obliged to give up his herd of cattle.“What will you wager today?” roared the giant.“I will wager my head against yours,” said the prince boldly.“Ha, ha! you have grown quite brave,” laughed the giant mockingly. “I will wager my head that I can beat you today. If you lose the game, I will have your head before the sun rises to-morrow.”They played on the hillside till dusk. The game was a close one, full of breathless interest and excitement; but the prince was beaten. With a shout of triumph the giant danced about, trampling down small trees and bushes.The prince was indeed sorry that he had wagered such a useful piece of property as his head, but he did not complain.“You are an honest lad, even though you are rash,” he said presently. “I will let you live one year and one day longer. Go home to the palace, but do not tell anyone that I am to have your head. When the time has passed by, come back again to the hillside to pay your wager.”Then the giant vanished, leaving the poor prince alone, very sick at heart. He did not go home but wandered about, not caring whither he went.Finally he found that he was in a strange land far beyond the border line of Erin. On each side were green pasture lands, and in the distance were high green hills; but not a house could be seen.He wandered on and on, weak from hunger till he came to an old hut that stood at the foot of a hill. It was lighted by a candle. He entered and came face to face with an old woman who had been bending over a fire. Her teeth were as long as the staff he carried and her scant hair hung loosely about her face.Before the prince could speak, the old woman said:“You are welcome in my house, son of the King of Erin.”Then she took him by the hand, led him into a corner of the room, and told him to wash his face and hands. In the meantime she made him some hot porridge and bade him eat a hearty meal.The prince was much surprised because she knew his name, and he wondered why she remained so quiet. He thought she must be a witch; but hungry boys, no matter how high their station, are apt to forget danger when a good supper is set before them. After he had eaten and drunk all he wanted, he sat by the fire until she took him to a bedroom and told him to go to bed.On the next morning he was awakened by the witch, who bade him rise and eat his breakfast of bread and milk.He did as he was told, without so much as bidding her good morning.“I know what is bothering you, son of the King of Erin,” she said. “If you do as I bid you, you will have no cause for regret. Here is a ball of thread. Hold to one end of the thread and throw the ball before you. When you start on your journey the ball will roll; but you must keep following it and winding the thread all the time or you will be lost again. You were with me last night; you will be with my sister tonight.”The prince took the ball of thread; threw it before him, and began walking slowly and winding the thread into another ball. With each step that he took, the ball moved further and further away from him. All day long he trudged up hill and down dell, faster and faster, until his feet and hands were so tired he could scarcely move them. At last the ball of thread stopped at the door of a hut that stood at the foot of a high hill. A candle flickered in the window. He picked up the ball and ran to the door where he met another old witch whose teeth were as long as crutches.“Welcome, son of the King of Erin!” she cried. “You were with my youngest sister last night; you will be with me tonight; and tomorrow you will be with my eldest sister.”She took him into the hut, bade him wash his hands and face, gave him a hearty supper of porridge and cakes, and sent him to bed.The next morning she called him to breakfast. When he had finished eating, she gave him a ball of thread and told him to follow it as before.The prince followed it through field and over common, hurrying faster and faster every minute, until late on the following evening, when it stopped at the door of a hut that stood at the foot of a hill. A candle sputtered in the window as if to welcome him. A witch, more homely than the others, stood by the fire making porridge.She greeted the prince as her sisters had done, bade him wash his face and hands, gave him his supper, and sent him to bed. On the following morning after breakfast she gave him a ball of thread and said:“Son of the Prince of Erin, you have lost your head to the Giant of Loch Lein, who lives near by in a great castle surrounded by spikes. Some day you will lose your head to his daughter. Follow this ball of thread to the lake behind the castle. When you reach the lake at midday, the ball will be unwound. In a few minutes more the daughters of the cruel Giant of Loch Lein will come to the lake to bathe. Their names are Blue Lily, White Lily, and Yellow Lily. The latter is the wisest and most beautiful of the three. Steal her clothing and do not give it up until she promises to help you, for she is the only person in the world that can outwit the Giant of Loch Lein.”The prince thanked the witch for her advice, and followed the ball of thread to the Castle of Spikes, which was a dark, gloomy building hidden from view by great trees. When he reached the lake behind the castle, the ball of thread vanished.He stood for a time looking at the lake, which looked like a brilliant turquoise in the sunshine. Presently he heard girlish shouts of laughter. He concealed himself behind a clump of bushes where he could see without being seen. Three beautiful girls came tripping down to the edge of the water, where they stopped to look all about them.It was very easy for the prince to make out their names. The tallest one, who wore a gown of pale blue, had eyes as blue as the skies above; he knew that she must be Blue Lily.One of them was so fair that she looked as though she were carved from marble; he was sure that she was White Lily. But Yellow Lily was small and slender, with hair that shone like gold in the sunlight. She was wonderfully graceful and beautiful.Yellow Lily threw off her robe of spun gold and stood dressed in a bathing suit of the same material. With a joyous shout she leapt into the water, followed by her sisters.The Prince of Erin darted forth from his hiding-place, and seized the robe of spun gold. Yellow Lily saw him and cried at the top of her voice:“Give me back my golden robe. My father will kill me if I lose it. Please do not run away.”“What will you give me for it?” asked the prince, moving slowly backward from the pool.“Anything that you wish, for I am guarded by a fairy godmother who makes all things possible,” replied Yellow Lily.“I have come to give myself up to your father, the Giant of Loch Lein, according to my promise,” said the prince. “I would ask you to have him set me free. Here is your gown.”He laid the robe upon the grass and walked away up the hill towards the castle. In a few moments he was joined by Yellow Lily dressed in her golden robe.“You are the son of the King of Erin,” she said smiling sweetly, and catching step with him. “If you do as I say, you will not lose your head; but in the future I hope that you will never become so foolish as to wager your head or any other trifle you may have.”“I promise you that I will not,” said the prince, looking at her admiringly. “If your father had wagered your pretty golden head, I believe I could have beaten him at the game.”Yellow Lily tossed her curls and laughed merrily, saying: “Father has a soft bed for you in a deep tank; but do not worry, for I will help you.”They passed in silence through the stone gates of the Castle of Spikes. The great stone courts, balconies, and battlements were quite deserted. Yellow Lily took the prince into the kitchen, which was the largest one he had ever seen. The floor was made of white cobblestones, and a brass caldron boiled over the flames in the great fireplace. Yellow Lily hid the prince behind a curtain in one corner of the room.Presently the Giant of Loch Lein appeared and sank down into a chair before the fireplace. He began to sniff the air and finally roared:“The son of the King of Erin is here! Fetch him hither, Yellow Lily.”The girl did as she was bidden. The prince could not keep from trembling as he stood before the fierce giant, although he felt that Yellow Lily would keep her promise.“You must be very tired,” roared the giant, so loudly that the dishes on the shelves rattled. “I have a nice soft bed for you.”He seized the prince, carried him across the kitchen, opened a tank, and threw him in. Splash! The prince fell head-first into three feet of water.What was still more terrible, the giant fastened down the lid of the tank. The prince feared the dark far more than he did the water, but he did not cry out. He stood shivering for more than an hour, wondering if Yellow Lily had forgotten him, and wishing that he was safe at home in his bed of silk and gold.At last the lid was raised, and Yellow Lily peeped down at him, smiling roguishly.“Shall I steal your clothes and run away, as you tried to do today?” she said softly.“No, do not let me stay in this place. I will do anything you may want me to do,” pleaded the prince, with chattering teeth.“Then climb out; put on these dry, warm clothes I have for you; and have some supper,” she said.It did not take the prince long to get out of his soft bed. He found the giant sound asleep before the fireplace, snoring loud enough to drown the most terrible crash of thunder.Yellow Lily spoke not a word, but gave the prince some dry clothing and told him to stay in the corner until she returned. Before long she came back with a tempting supper smoking upon a tray, and told him to eat. He was very hungry and ate very heartily. Then she took him to another corner of the room and raised a curtain that hung there.He saw a soft, white bed and a table that held fresh water and towels. Yellow Lily wished him happy dreams and hastened away.At break of day she returned and said excitedly:“Awaken, Prince of Erin! Do not lose a moment or we are lost. Put on the clothes you wore yesterday and follow me.”The prince rose and dressed himself as quickly as possible. Then he drew back the curtain that hid his bed, and followed the girl.“When the chickens begin to cackle, father will awaken,” she whispered. “Leap back into the tank and I will shut down the lid.”The prince hesitated.“Do as I say, or we are both lost,” said the girl.The prince jumped into the tank, and Yellow Lily closed the lid. The splash aroused the giant, who stretched his heavy limbs, rubbed his nose, and yawned. Then he opened his eyes, gazed all about him, strode across the room, opened the tank, and shouted:“Good morning, Prince of Erin; how did you like your nice soft bed last night?”“I never slept better, thank you,” truthfully answered the prince.“Then climb out,” commanded the giant.The prince obeyed.“Since you have slept so soundly, you shall do some hard work to-day,” said the giant. “I will spare you your head if you will clean out my stables. They contain five hundred horses and they have not been cleaned for seven hundred years. I am anxious to find my great-grandmother’s slumber-pin which was lost somewhere in these stables. The poor old soul never slept a wink after losing it, so she died for want of sleep. I want the slumber-pin for my own use, as I am a very light sleeper.”“I will do my best to get the pin,” said the prince, almost discouraged, for he had never so much as cleaned the tips of his boots.“Here are two shovels, an old one and a new one,” said the giant gruffly. “You may take your choice. Dig away until you find the slumber-pin. I shall expect it when I come home to-night.”The prince took the new shovel and followed the giant to the stables where hundreds of horses began to neigh, making a most deafening noise.“Remember, Prince of Erin, I will either have the slumber-pin or your head,” said the giant, as he walked away.The prince set to work, but every time he threw a shovelful out of the window, two shovelfuls came flying in to take its place. At last, tired and discouraged, he sat down to rest.At that moment Yellow Lily appeared, more beautiful than ever in another gown of gold and silver, with yellow flowers in her golden hair.“What are you trying to do, Prince of Erin?” she asked, dimpling with laughter.“I am trying to find your great-great-grandmother’s slumber-pin,” was the pitiful reply.“You are a mighty prince and my father is a mighty giant, yet you are both foolish as all men are,” she said. “How do you suppose my great-great-grandmother could lose her slumber-pin in the stables? I have the slumber-pin myself; here it is. I put it in father’s pocket last night so he could not wake up and catch us.”“What a useful girl you are!” cried the Prince, beside himself with joy and admiration.All day long they visited until Yellow Lily said that she must go, for she heard her father’s footsteps a league away, and he would be there in two minutes.When the giant saw that the prince had found the slumber-pin, he was greatly surprised.“Either my daughter, Yellow Lily, has aided you, or else it was the Evil Spirit,” he muttered.Before the prince could reply, the giant picked him up, carried him back to the kitchen, and again threw him into the tank. Then he sat down by the fire, holding the slumber-pin. Soon he began to snore like a thousand locomotives.Up went the lid of the tank, and Yellow Lily, sweet and smiling, shouted down at the top of her voice:“Get up from your soft bed, Prince of Erin; eat the supper I have prepared, and talk as loudly as you wish, for father has gone to sleep holding great-great-grandmother’s slumber-pin.”The evening they spent together was a merry one, and after Yellow Lily had joined her sisters in the watch-tower, the prince again slept in the soft bed in the corner of the kitchen. At dawn Yellow Lily again awakened him and told him to hurry back to the tank.As soon as the lid was closed, Yellow Lily rushed to her father’s side, seized the slumber-pin, and threw it upon the floor. The giant gave a roar and fell sprawling upon the cobblestones.“Who woke me up?” he growled, trying to gain his feet.“I did, dear father,” said the girl meekly. “You would have slept forever had I not pulled the slumber-pin from your grasp. It is very late.”“You are a good, trustworthy daughter,” said the giant. “I will get you something pretty.”He went to the tank and commanded the prince to get out of his nice, soft bed.“You have lain in bed so long, you must work still harder to-day,” he added. “My stables have not been thatched for many years, and I want you to do it to-day. They cover many acres, but if you finish them before dark I will spare you your head. They must be thatched with feathers, to be put on one at a time, and no two of them must be alike.”The prince was again cast down, but he said that he would do his best.“But where shall I find the birds?” he asked after a period of helpless silence.“Where do you suppose? I hope you would not try to find them in the frog pond,” was the impatient answer. “Here are two whistles, an old one and a new one. You may take your choice.”“I’ll take the new one,” said the prince, and the giant gave him a whistle that looked as though it had never been used.“Some day you will learn that old things are best,” said the giant scornfully.When the giant had gone, the prince blew the whistle until his lips were puckered out of shape, but not a fowl came to his rescue. At last he sat down upon a rock, almost ready to cry.But Yellow Lily came again, lovelier than ever in another yellow gown trimmed with the wings of dragon flies, and with pearls in her glorious hair.“Why do you sit whistling instead of working?” she asked. “Poor prince, you must be hungry. Here is a little table set for two under this big tree. When things worry you, don’t give up. The man who keeps his appetite has no cause to despair.”So they sat down and ate peacock tongues and frosted cakes and almonds and many other delicacies, and were happier than ever.“But it is growing late, and the stable is still unthatched!” cried the prince, suddenly remembering his task as soon as his appetite was satisfied.“Look behind you,” said the girl.The prince, to his utter surprise, saw that the stables were thatched with downy bird feathers, no two of them alike.“You are a wonder,” he said, grasping her hands in gratitude.“Not at all,” she replied. “How could the birds work for you while you stood there blowing that terrible whistle? Birds would be as good friends to people as dogs are, if people did not frighten them so. But say no more. I hear father drinking at the spring two miles away, and he will be here in four minutes.”She drew her skirts closely about her and with a sweet smile hastened into the castle.“Who thatched that roof?” shouted the giant as soon as he arrived.“My own strength did it,” said the prince humbly, feeling that he had not told a falsehood, for Yellow Lily was even more than strength to him.The giant, instead of thanking him for his services, seized him again, and threw him headlong into the kitchen tank. Then he sat down by the fire. No sooner had his head begun to nod than Yellow Lily placed the slumber-pin over his nose to be sure that he could not wake up. Then she set the prince free, and they spent the evening as before, except that there was much more merriment.On the following morning the giant opened the tank and ordered the prince to climb out.“I have a task for you to do that even a prince cannot do,” he said. “I am sure that I shall have your head before night. Near the castle is a tree nine hundred feet high. It has but one branch and that is near the top. This branch contains a crow’s nest. In the nest is one egg. I want that egg for supper tonight. If you do not get it, you will be sorry.”The giant took the prince to the tree, which rose like a great pillar of smooth glass, so slippery that not even an ant could crawl upon it without sliding off.When the giant had gone, the prince tried a dozen times to climb to the top, but each time he slipped back to the earth quicker and harder than before. He was glad indeed when Yellow Lily came.And now comes the bloodcurdling part of the tale that I would rather omit; but I must tell it all to you just as the dear little Irish children heard it centuries ago, or I should feel that I had marred this ancient bit of fairy folklore.Yellow Lily, as usual, brought something to eat, and after they had eaten, she, for the first time, turned upon the prince a sorrowful face.“I am sorry father gave you this task to do; but we must submit to what cannot be helped,” she said. “Alas! dear prince, you must kill me.”“Kill you!” he cried in horror. “Never! I would rather lose my head a thousand times.”“But, if you are careful, I shall come to life again,” persisted the girl. “My fairy godmother will care for me. You will find it easy to strip off my flesh, for you have only to say, ‘Yellow Lily of Loch Lein.’ Say it again and my bones will all separate. You will find that my bones will stick to this tree like little steps. On the ladder of bones you can climb to the top of the tree. Get the egg and climb down carefully, each time pulling one of my bones from the tree until you have reached the earth. Then pile the bones in a heap upon my flesh and say, ‘Come back, Yellow Lily of Loch Lein,’ and lo! I will be myself again. But be careful—be careful not to leave one of my bones on the tree.”For a long time the prince refused to obey her request until Yellow Lily grew vexed and said:“Then I will tell father that I have been helping you, and he will kill us both. Make haste, for the time is short.”“Yellow Lily of Loch Lein!” shouted the prince, without looking at her. “Yellow Lily of Loch Lein!” he shouted again.Then he looked down and saw at his feet a stack of little white bones. He gathered them up and, climbing slowly, made a little ladder by sticking them against the tree. He soon reached the crow’s nest, found the egg, placed it in his pocket, and climbed down again, plucking the bones from the tree as he went. Then he piled them upon the flesh and garments of the girl and, with tears in his eyes, shouted:“Come back, Yellow Lily of Loch Lein.”And immediately Yellow Lily stood before him, but no longer smiling.“Wretch!” she cried. “You have made me a cripple for life! You are nothing but a careless boy after all.”“Oh, what have I neglected to do?” cried the prince, sick with fear.“There is one of my little toes still hanging to the tree. Oh, what an awkward creature a prince is!”The prince on his knees begged her pardon, and finally Yellow Lily broke into her old, sweet smile and said:“I am thankful it is no worse. What a sight I would be if you had forgotten my backbone!”So they became merry and talkative again until it was time for the giant to arrive. Then Yellow Lily went to her tower and the prince took his stand at the castle gate holding the crow’s egg.“You are certainly a magician!” gasped the giant when he saw the prince. “I cannot take your head, lest a worse fate befall me. Go home at once. Do not linger here a minute.”The prince wanted to bid farewell to Yellow Lily, but of course, that was impossible, so he hastened home as fast as he could.When he reached the Palace of Erin, the king, the queen, old Glic, and all the court ran out to greet him. Never before had there been such rejoicing there. For days they feasted and danced to melodious music, and a tournament was held in which the best archers in the kingdom tested their skill.A year later, old Glic, who was always making trouble, told the king that it was time for the prince to marry some noble lady of great wealth. The prince would have liked to marry Yellow Lily, but the king said that he must choose a princess whose rank was equal to his own. In despair the prince told Glic to select him a wife soon or he would go roaming again and never return.“I have found a suitable lady,” said Glic. “Her father is the King of Loch Lein, the kingdom that is next to ours. Her father is powerful, her family is famous, her wealth cannot be counted, and she is as beautiful as the Queen of the Fairies.”“If she will have me, I will marry her,” said the prince, “but I will not seek her myself.”The king sent Glic to the court of Loch Lein, bearing rich gifts and guarded by soldiers and attendants. In a few weeks he returned and told the King of Erin that the King of Loch Lein had consented to give the prince his daughter in marriage.Preparations were at once made for a great wedding. All kinds of sports, several dances, and other amusements were to be enjoyed at court, and the royal families of many different kingdoms, even from the isles of the sea, were to be present.The prince himself finally grew much interested in getting ready for the great event. In fact he almost forgot about Yellow Lily and the help she had given him to save his head. Yet he bade his father invite the Giant of Loch Lein to be present at the feast to be given before the day of the wedding. It was also agreed to invite Blue Lily, White Lily, and Yellow Lily, and to treat them as princesses of the royal blood.In time the King of Loch Lein, who was an aged man, arrived with his daughter and a shipful of attendants. The gatekeeper blew his bugle and the whole court of Erin ran out to greet them. The King and Princess of Loch Lein were taken into the reception hall where the Queen and Prince of Erin welcomed them.The prince was much disappointed when he beheld the princess, and was very angry with Glic, for she was haughty and not at all pretty. She seemed to be more pleased with the costly furniture and tapestries than with the prince.The day of the feast came at last. The table in the banquet hall was loaded with fruits and costly meats of all kinds to be served upon plates of solid gold. Every one appeared to be happy, especially old Glic, who was to receive a large sum of money for finding the prince a wife.At the close of the feast, the King of Erin sang a ballad and the King of Loch Lein told a story. In those days the people were fond of deeds of magic, so the prince requested Glic to call the mighty Giant of Loch Lein, that he might perform some tricks.In a few moments the giant entered the room, bowing sternly as the people clapped their hands and cheered. He did not look at the prince but bowed low to the two kings.“Your Majesties,” he said, “it is my daughter who is the real magician. I know that she will be glad to entertain you for a short time. In fact she has consented to take my place.”Just then Yellow Lily entered the room in a gown of gold that swept the floor. Her golden hair shone like the sun. No one present had ever seen such glorious hair nor such a beautiful face and form. All were too much amazed at her beauty and elegance to utter a word of welcome.Yellow Lily sat down at the table and threw two grains of wheat into the air. They lit upon the table and turned into a male and a female pigeon. Immediately the former began to peck at his mate, almost driving her from the table. To the surprise of all, the female pigeon shrieked:“You didn’t treat me thus on the day I cleaned the stable for you and found the slumber-pin.”Yellow Lily laid two grains of wheat before them, but the male pigeon greedily devoured them and continued to abuse his mate.“You would not have done that to me the day I thatched the stables for you with the feathers of birds, and no two of them alike,” shrieked the female pigeon.When some more wheat was laid before them, the male pigeon ate more greedily than before, and after he had eaten every grain he pushed his mate off the table. She fluttered to the floor screaming:“You wouldn’t have done that the day you killed me and took my bones to make steps on the glass tree nine hundred feet high, to get the crow’s egg for the supper of the Giant of Loch Lein—and forgot my little toe, and made me lame for life!”The Prince of Erin rose to his feet, red with shame, and turning to the King of Loch Lein, said:“When I was younger I roamed about hunting and playing games. Once while away from home, I lost the key to a valuable chest. After a new key was made I found the old one. Which of the two keys should be kept, the old one or the new one?”The King of Loch Lein looked puzzled, but he answered promptly:“Keep the old one by all means, for it will fit better and you are more accustomed to it.”“I thank you for your sound advice,” continued the prince with a smile. “Yellow Lily, the daughter of the Giant of Loch Lein, is the old key to my heart, and I will wed no other girl. Your daughter, the princess, is the new key that has never been tried. She is only my father’s guest, and no more; but she will be better for having attended my happy wedding in Erin.”Great astonishment of both royal families and their guests when the prince took Yellow Lily by the hand and led her to a seat beside him. But when the musicians began to play a brilliant air, the palace re-echoed from tower to dungeon with joyous shouts of “Long live the Prince of Erin and his future bride, Yellow Lily of Loch Lein!”
Once upon a time a little girl, named Jessie, was wandering in the wood, and lost her way. It was Summer time, and the air was warm. She wandered on and on, trying to find her way home, but she could not find the path out of the wood. Twilight came, and weary and footsore she sat down under a fir tree, and began to cry.“Why are you crying, little girl?” said a voice behind her.Jessie looked around, and saw a pretty little man dressed in moss and green leaves. His eyes were dark as dark, and his hair was black as black, and his mouth was large and showed a hundred white teeth as small as seed pearls. He was smiling merrily, and his cream-yellow cheeks were dimpled, and his eyes soft and kindly. Indeed, he seemed so friendly that Jessie quite forgot to be afraid.“Why are you crying, little girl?” he asked again. “Your tear-drops are falling like dew on the blue flowers at your feet!”“I’ve lost my way,” sobbed Jessie, “and the night is coming on.”“Do not cry, little girl,” said he gently. “I will lead you through the wood. I know every path—the rabbit’s path, the hare’s path, the fox’s path, the goat’s path, the path of the deer, and the path of men.”“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” exclaimed Jessie, as she looked the tiny man up and down, and wondered to see his strange clothes.“Where do you dwell, little girl?” asked he.So Jessie told him, and he said: “You have been walking every way but the right way. Follow me, and you’ll reach home before the stars come out to peep at us through the trees.”Then he turned around, and began to trip lightly in front of her, and she followed on. He went so fast that she feared she might lose sight of him, but he turned around again and again and smiled and beckoned. And when he saw that she was still far behind, he danced and twirled about until she came up. Then he scampered on as before.At length Jessie reached the edge of the wood, and, oh, joy! there was her father’s house beside the blue lake. Then the little man, smiling, bade her good-bye.“Have I not led you well?” said he. “Do not forget me. I am the Gillie Dhu from Fairyland. I love little girls and boys. If you are ever lost in the wood again, I will come and help you! Good-bye, little girl! Good-bye!”And laughing merrily, he trotted away, and was soon lost to sight among the trees.
Tokgabi is the most mischievous sprite in all Korean fairy-land. He does not like the sunshine, or outdoors, and no one ever saw him on the streets. He lives in the sooty flues that run under the floors along the whole length of the house, from the kitchen at one end of it to the chimney hole in the ground at the other end. He delights in the smoke and smut, and does not mind fire or flame, for he likes to be where it is warm. He has no lungs, and his skin and eyes are both fire-proof. He is as black as night andloves nothing that has white in it. He is always afraid of a bit of silver, even if it be only ahairpin.Tokgabi likes most to play at night in the little loft over the fireplace. To run along the rafters and knock down the dust and cobwebs is his delight. His favorite game is to make the iron rice-pot lid dance up and down, so that it tumbles inside the rice kettle and cannot easily be got out again. Oh, how many times the cook burns, scalds, or steams her fingers in attempting to fish out that pot lid when Tokgabi has pushed it in! How she does bless the sooty imp!But Tokgabi is not always mischievous, and most of his capers hurt nobody. He is such a merry fellow that he keeps continually busy, whether people cry or laugh. He does not mean to give any one trouble, but he must have fun every minute, especially at night When the fire is out, how he does chase the mice up and down the fines under the fioor, and up in the garret over the rafters. When the mousies lie dead on their backs, with their toes turned upward, the street boys take them out- doors and throw them up in the air. Before the mice fall to the ground, the hawks swoop down and eat them up. Many a bird of prey gets his breakfast in this way.Although Tokgabi plays so many pranks, he is kind to the kitchen maids. When, after a hard day’s work, one is so tired out that she falls asleep, he helps her to do her hard tasks. Tokgabi washes their dishes and cleans their tables for good servants. So when they wake up, the girls find their work done for them. Many a fairy tale ia told about this jolly sprite’s doings — how he gives good things to the really nice people and makes the bad ones mad by spitefully using them. They do say that the king of all the Tokgabis has a museum of curiosities and a storehouse full of gold and gems and fine clothes, and everything sweet to eat for good boys and girls and for old people that are kind to the birds and dumb animals.For bad folks, he has all sorts of things that are ugly and troublesome. He punishes stingy people by making them poor and miserable. The Tokgabi king has also a menagerie of animals. These he sends to do his errands rewarding the good and punishing naughty folks. Every year the little almanac with red and green covers tells in what quarter of the skies the Tokgabi king lives for that year, so that the farmers and country people will keep out of his way and not provoke him. In his menagerie the kind creatures that help human beings are the dragon, bear, tortoise, frog, dog and rabbit. These are all man’s friends. The cruel and treacherous creatures in Tokgabi’s menagerie are the tiger, wild boar, leopard, serpent, toad and cat. These are the messengers off the Tokgabi king to do his bidding when he punishes naughty folks.The common every-day Tokgabi plays fewer tricks on the men and boys and enjoys himself more in bothering the girls and women. This, I suppose, is because they spend more time in the house than their fathers or brothers. In the Land of Rat-tat-tat, where the sound of beating the washed clothes never ceases, Tokgabi loves to get hold of the women’s laundry sticks which are used for pounding and polishing the starched clothes. He hides them so that they cannot be found. Then Daddy makes a fuss, because his long white coat has to go without its usual gloss, but it is all Tokgabi ‘s fault.Tokgabi does not like starch, because it is white. He loves to dance on Daddy’s big black hat case that hangs on the wall. Sometimes he wiggles the fetich, or household idol, that is suspended from the rafters. But, most of all, he enjoys dancing a jig among the dishes in the closet over the fireplace, making them rattle and often tumble down with a crash.Tokgabi likes to bother men sometimes too. If Daddy should get his topknot caught in a rat hole, or his head should slip off his wooden pillow at night and he bump his nose, it is all Tokgabi’s fault. When anything happens to a boy’s long braid of hair, that hangs down his back and makes him look so much like a girl, Tokgabi is blamed for it. It is even said that naughty men make compacts with Tokgabi to do bad things, but the imp only helps the man for thefun of it. Tokgabi cares nothing about what mortal men call right or wrong. He is only after fun and is up to mischief all the time, so one must watch out for him.The kitchen maids and the men think they know how to circumvent Tokgabi and spoil his tricks. Knowing that the imp does not like red, a young man when betrothed wears clothes of this bright color. Tokgabi is afraid of shining silver, too, so the men fasten their topknots together, and the girls keep their chignons in shape, with silver hairpins. The magistrates and government officers have little storks made of solid silver in their hats, or else these birds are embroidered with silver thread on their dresses. Every one who can uses white metal dishes and dresses in snowy garments. Tokgabi likes nothing white and that is the reason why every Korean who can puts on clothes that are as dazzling as hoar frost. Tons and mountains of starch are consumed in blanching and stiffen- ing coats and skirts, sleeves and stockings. On festival days the people look as if they were dipped in starch and their garments encrusted in rock candy.Before we tell of Tokgabi’s Museum and Curiosity Shop and of his Aviary of birds liked and disliked, and his menagerie of popular and despised animals, we must let you know how and why Tokgabi used to be most busy between the hours of nine o’clock at night and midnight. In old days, the Great Bell, in the centre of the city of Seoul, was struck at nine o’clock at night. Then, every man and boy must be in the house and off the streets, while every woman and grown girl, carrying a little paper lantern, was free to walk out in the darkness or moonlight. Woe be to any one of the masculine gender caught outdoors! If grabbed by the magistrate, he was severely spanked. Great wooden paddles were kept in the police office to be used on boys and men seen abroad.The women folk, dressed in white, in their tumed-up shoes, and with their funny little green jackets over their heads, wended their way to call on their female friends for chat and gossip. Yet they must every one of them be home by midnight and then — if Tokgabi had not hidden their beaters away — they began again on the pile of starched clothes. Laying each garment over a little round log, they kept up a steady “rat-tat-tat” until near morning, making the real Korean chorus, which Tokgabi loves to hear.
Once upon a time there was a couple of humble cottagers who had no children until, at last, the man’s wife was blessed with a boy, which made both of them very happy. They named him Faithful and when he was christened a huldra came to the hut, seated herself beside the child’s cradle, and foretold that he would meet with good fortune. “What is more,” she said, “when he is fifteen years of age, I will make him a present of a horse with many rare qualities, a horse that has the gift of speech!” And with that the huldra turned and went away.The boy grew up and became strong and powerful. And when he had passed his fifteenth year, a strange old man came up to their hut one day, knocked, and said that the horse he was leading had been sent by his queen, and that henceforward it was to belong to Faithful, as she had promised. Then the ancient man departed; but the beautiful horse was admired by all, and Faithful learned to love it more with every passing day.At length he grew weary of home. “I must away and try my fortune in the world,” said he, and his parents did not like to object; for there was not much to wish for at home. So he led his dear horse from the stable, swung himself into the saddle, and rode hurriedly into the wood. He rode on and on, and had already covered a good bit of ground, when he saw two lions engaged in a struggle with a tiger, and they were well-nigh overcome. “Make haste to take your bow,” said the horse, “shoot the tiger and deliver the two lions!” “Yes, that’s what I will do,” said the youth, fitted an arrow to the bow-string, and in a moment the tiger lay prone on the ground. The two lions drew nearer, nuzzled their preserver in a friendly and grateful manner, and then hastened back to their cave.Faithful now rode along for a long time among the great trees until he suddenly spied two terrified white doves fleeing from a hawk who was on the point of catching them. “Make haste to take your bow,” said the horse, “shoot the hawk and save the two doves!” “Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” said the youth. He fitted an arrow to the bow-string, and in a moment the hawk lay prone on the ground. But the two doves flew nearer, fluttered about their deliverer in a tame and grateful manner, and then hurried back to their nest.The youth pressed on through the wood and by now was far, far from home. But his horse did not tire easily, and ran on with him until they came to a great lake. There he saw a gull rise up from the water, holding a pike in its claws. “Make haste to take your bow,” said the horse, “shoot the gull and save the pike!” “Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” answered the youth, fitted an arrow to his bow-string, and in a moment the gull was threshing the ground with its wings, mortally wounded. But the pike who had been saved swam nearer, gave his deliverer a friendly, grateful glance, and then dove down to join his fellows beneath the waves.Faithful rode on again, and before evening came to a great castle. He at once had himself announced to the king, and begged that the latter would take him into his service. “What kind of a place do you want?” asked the king, who was inclined to look with favor on the bold horseman.“I should like to be a groom,” was Faithful’s answer, “but first of all I must have stable-room and fodder for my horse.” “That you shall have,” said the king, and the youth was taken on as a groom, and served so long and so well, that every one in the castle liked him, and the king in particular praised him highly.But among the other servitors was one named Unfaithful who was jealous of Faithful, and did what he could to harm him; for he thought to himself:“Then I would be rid of him, and need not see him continue to rise in my lord’s favor.” Now it happened that the king was very sad, for he had lost his queen, whom a troll had stolen from the castle. It is true that the queen had not taken pleasure in the king’s society, and that she did not love him. Still the king longed for her greatly, and often spoke of it to Unfaithful his servant. So one day Unfaithful said: “My lord need distress himself no longer, for Faithful has been boasting to me that he could rescue your beautiful queen from the hands of the troll.” “If he has done so,” replied the king, “then he must keep his word.”He straightway ordered Faithful to be brought before him, and threatened him with death if he did not at once hurry into the hill and bring back the wife of whom he had been robbed. If he were successful great honor should be his reward. In vain Faithful denied what Unfaithful had said of him, the king stuck to his demand, and the youth withdrew, convinced that he had not long to live. Then he went to the stable to bid farewell to his beautiful horse, and stood beside him and wept. “What grieves you so?” asked the horse. Then the youth told him of all that had happened, and said that this was probably the last time he would be able to visit him. “If it be no more than that,” said the horse, “there is a way to help you. Up in the garret of the castle there is an old fiddle, take it with you and play it when you come to the place where the queen is kept. And fashion for yourself armor of steel wire, and set knives into it everywhere, and then, when you see the troll open his jaws, descend into his maw, and thus slay him. But you must have no fear, and must trust me to show you the way.” These words filled the youth with fresh courage, he went to the king and received permission to leave, secretly fashioned his steel armor, took the old fiddle from the garret of the castle, led his dear horse out of the stable, and without delay set forth for the troll’s hill.Before long he saw it, and rode directly to the troll’s abode. When he came near, he saw the troll, who had crept out of his castle, lying stretched out at the entrance to his cave, fast asleep, and snoring so powerfully that the whole hill shook. But his mouth was wide open, and his maw was so tremendous that it was easy for the youth to crawl into it. He did so, for he was not afraid, and made his way into the troll’s inwards where he was so active that the troll was soon killed. Then Faithful crept out again, laid aside his armor, and entered the troll’s castle. Within the great golden hall sat the captive queen, fettered with seven strong chains of gold. Faithful could not break the strong chains; but he took up his fiddle and played such tender music on it, that the golden chains were moved, and one after another, fell from the queen, until she was able to rise and was free once more. She looked at the courageous youth with joy and gratitude, and felt very kindly toward him, because he was so handsome and courteous. And the queen was perfectly willing to return with him to the king’s castle.The return of the queen gave rise to great joy, and Faithful received the promised reward from the king. But now the queen treated her husband with even less consideration than before. She would not exchange a word with him, she did not laugh, and locked herself up in her room with her gloomy thoughts. This greatly vexed the king, and one day he asked the queen why she was so sad: “Well,” said she, “I cannot be happy unless I have the beautiful golden hall which I had in the hill at the troll’s; for a hall like that is to be found nowhere else.”“It will be no easy matter to obtain it for you,” said the king, “and I cannot promise you that anyone will be able to do it.” But when he complained of his difficulty to his servant Unfaithful, the latter answered: “The chances of success are not so bad, for Faithful said he could easily bring the troll’s golden hall to the castle.” Faithful was at once sent for, and the king commanded him, as he loved his life, to make good his word and bring the golden hall from the troll’s hill. It was in vain that Faithful denied Unfaithful’s assertions: go he must, and bring back the golden hall.Inconsolable, he went to his beautiful horse, wept and wanted to say farewell to him forever. “What troubles you?” asked the horse. And the youth replied: “Unfaithful has again been telling lies about me, and if I do not bring the troll’s golden hall to the queen, my life will be forfeited.” “Is it nothing more serious than that?” said the horse. “See that you obtain a great ship, take your fiddle with you and play the golden hall out of the hill, then hitch the troll’s horses before it, and you will be able to bring the glistening hall here without trouble.”Then Faithful felt somewhat better, did as the horse had told him, and was successful in reaching the great hill. And as he stood there playing the fiddle, the golden hall heard him, and was drawn to the sounding music, and it moved slowly, slowly, until it stood outside the hill. It was built of virgin gold, like a house by itself, and under it were many wheels. Then the youth took the troll’s horses, put them to the golden hall, and thus brought it aboard his ship. Soon he had crossed the lake, and brought it along safely so that it reached the castle without damage, to the great joy of the queen. Yet despite the fact, she was as weary of everything as she had been before, never spoke to her husband, the king, and no one ever saw her laugh.Now the king grew even more vexed than he had been, and again asked her why she seemed so sad. “Ah, how can I be happy unless I have the two colts that used to belong to me, when I stayed at the troll’s! Such handsome steeds are to be seen nowhere else!” “It will be anything but easy to obtain for you what you want,” declared the king, “for they were untamed, and long ago must have run far away into the wild-wood.” Then he left her, sadly, and did not know what to do. But Unfaithful said: “Let my lord give himself no concern, for Faithful has declared he could easily secure both of the troll’s colts.” Faithful was at once sent for, and the king threatened him with death, if he did not show his powers in the matter of the colts. But should he succeed in catching them, then he would be rewarded.Now Faithful knew quite well that he could not hope to catch the troll’s wild colts, and he once more turned to the stable in order to bid farewell to the huldra’s gift. “Why do you weep over such a trifle?” said the horse. “Hurry to the wood, play your fiddle, and all will be well!” Faithful did as he was told, and after a while the two lions whom he had rescued came leaping toward him, listened to his playing and asked him whether he was in distress. “Yes, indeed,” said Faithful, and told them what he had to do. They at once ran back into the wood, one to one side and the other to the other, and returned quickly, driving the two colts before them. Then Faithful played his fiddle and the colts followed him, so that he soon reached the king’s castle in safety, and could deliver the steeds to the queen.The king now expected that his wife would be gay and happy. But she did not change, never addressed a word to him, and only seemed a little less sad when she happened to speak to the daring youth.Then the king asked her to tell him what she lacked, and why she was so discontented. She answered: “I have secured the colts of the troll, and I often sit in the glittering hall of gold; but I can open none of the handsome chests that are filled to the brim with my valuables, because I have no keys. And if I do not get the keys again, how can I be happy?” “And where may the keys be?” asked the king. “In the lake by the troll’s hill,” said the queen, “for that is where I threw them when Faithful brought me here.” “This is a ticklish affair, this business of those keys you want!” said the king. “And I can scarcely promise that you will ever see them again.” In spite of this, however, he was willing to make an attempt, and talked it over with his servant Unfaithful. “Why, that is easily done,” said the latter, “for Faithful boasted to me that he could get the queen’s keys without any difficulty if he wished.” “Then I shall compel him to keep his word,” said the king. And he at once ordered Faithful, on pain of death, to get the queen’s keys out of the lake by the troll’s hill without delay.“The pike rose to the surface with the golden keys in his mouth.” Illustration by George Hood. Published in The Swedish Fairy Book (1921), Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York.This time the youth was not so depressed, for he thought to himself: “My wise horse will be able to help me.” And so he was, for he advised him to go along playing his fiddle, and to wait for what might happen. After the youth had played for a while, the pike he had saved thrust his head out of the water, recognized him, and asked whether he could be of any service to him. “Yes, indeed!” said the youth, and told him what it was he wanted. The pike at once dived, quickly rose to the surface of the water with the golden keys in his mouth, and gave them to his deliverer. The latter hastened back with them, and now the queen could open the great chests in the golden hall to her heart’s content.Notwithstanding, the king’s wife was as sorrowful as ever, and when the king complained about it to Unfaithful, the latter said: “No doubt it is because she loves Faithful. I would therefore advise that my lord have him beheaded. Then there will be a change.” This advice suited the king well, and he determined to carry it out shortly. But one day Faithful’s horse said to him: “The king is going to have your head chopped off. So hurry to the wood, play your fiddle, and beg the two doves to bring you a bottle of the water of life. Then go to the queen and ask her to set your head on your body and to sprinkle you with the water when you have been beheaded.” Faithful did so. He went to the wood that very day with his fiddle, and before long the two doves were fluttering around him, and shortly after brought back the bottle filled with the water of life. He took it back home with him and gave it to the queen, so that she might sprinkle him with it after he had been beheaded. She did so, and at once Faithful rose again, as full of life as ever; but far better looking. The king was astonished at what he had seen, and told the queen to cut off his own head and then sprinkle him with the water. She at once seized the sword, and in a moment the king’s head rolled to the ground. But she sprinkled none of the water of life upon it, and the king’s body was quickly carried out and buried. Then the queen and Faithful celebrated their wedding with great pomp; but Unfaithful was banished from the land and went away in disgrace. The wise horse dwelt contentedly in a wonderful chamber, and the king and queen kept the magic fiddle, the golden hall, and the troll’s other valuables, and lived in peace and happiness day after day.
Once upon a time there was a merchant, who was wandering toward Shantung with his wares, along the road from the South. At about the second watch of the night, a heavy storm blew up from the North. And he chanced to see an inn at one side of the road, whose lights were just being lit. He went in to get something to drink and order lodgings for the night, but the folk at the inn raised objections. Yet an old man among them took pity on his unhappy situation and said: “We have just prepared a meal for warriors who have come a long distance, and we have no wine left to serve you. But there is a little side room here which is still free, and there you may stay overnight.” With these words he led him into it. But the merchant could not sleep because of his hunger and thirst. Outside he could hear the noise of men and horses. And since all these proceedings did not seem quite natural to him, he got up and looked through a crack in the door. And he saw that the whole inn was filled with soldiers, who were sitting on the ground, eating and drinking, and talking about campaigns of which he had never heard. After a time they began calling to each other: “The general is coming!” And far off in the distance could be heard the cries of his bodyguard. All the soldiers hurried out to receive him. Then the merchant saw a procession with many paper lanterns, and riding in their midst a man of martial appearance with a long beard. He dismounted, entered the inn, and took his place at the head of the board. The soldiers mounted guard at the door, awaiting his commands, and the inn-keeper served food and drink, to which the general did full justice.When he had finished his officers entered, and he said to them: “You have now been underway for some time. Go back to your men. I shall rest a little myself. It will be time enough to beat the assembly when the order to advance is given.”The officers received his commands and withdrew. Then the general called out: “Send Asti in!” and a young officer entered from the left side of the house. The people of the inn locked the gates and withdrew for the night, while Asti conducted the long-haired general to a door at the left, through a crack of which shone the light of a lamp. The merchant stole from his room and looked through the crack in the door. Within the room was a bed of bamboo, without covers or pillows. The lamp stood on the ground. The long-bearded general took hold of his head. It came off and he placed it on the bed. Then Asti took hold of his arms. These also came off and were carefully placed beside the head. Then the old general threw himself down on the bed crosswise, and Asti took hold of his body, which came apart below the thighs, and the two legs fell to the ground. Then the lamp went out. Overcome by terror the merchant hurried back to his room as fast as he could, holding his sleeves before his eyes, and laid down on his bed, where he tossed about sleepless all night.At last he heard a cock crow in the distance. He was shivering. He took his sleeves from his face and saw that dawn was stealing along the sky. And when he looked about him, there he was lying in the middle of a thick clump of brush. Round about him was a wilderness, not a house, not even a grave was to be seen anywhere. In spite of being chilled, he ran about three miles till he came to the nearest inn. The inn-keeper opened the door and asked him with astonishment where he came from at that early hour. So the merchant told him his experiences and inquired as to the sort of place at which he had spent the night. The inn-keeper shook his head: “The whole neighborhood is covered with old battlefields,” was his reply, “and all sorts of supernatural things take place on them after dark.”Note: This tale is taken from the Sin Tsi Hia.
After Giufà had scalded his little sister to death, his mother drove him from the house, and he entered the service of a priest. “What wages do you want?” asked the priest. “One egg a day, and as much bread as I can eat with it; and you must keep me in your service until the screech-owl cries in the ivy.” The priest was satisfied and thought he could not find such a cheap servant again. The next morning Giufà received his egg and a loaf of bread. He opened the egg and ate it with a pin, and every time he licked off the pin he ate a great piece of bread. “Bring me a little more bread,” he cried; “this is not enough;” and the priest had to get him a large basket of bread.So it was every morning. “Alas for me!” cried the priest; “in a few weeks he will reduce me to beggary.” It was winter then and would be several months until the screech-owl cried in the ivy. In despair the priest said to his mother: “This evening you must hide in the ivy and scream like an owl.” The old woman did as she was told and began to cry: “Miu, miu!” “Do you hear, Giufà?” said the priest, “the screech-owl is crying in the ivy; we must part.” So Giufà took his bundle and was going to return to his mother.As he was going by the place where the priest’s mother was still crying “Miu, miu,” he exclaimed: “O you cursed screech-owl suffer punishment and sorrow!” and threw stones into the ivy and killed the old woman.Giufà’s mother would not allow him to remain at home, and made him take service as a swineherd with a farmer, who sent him into the woods to keep the swine until they were fat and then drive them back. So Giufà lived several months in the woods until the swine were fat. As he was driving them home he met a butcher and said to him: “Would you like to buy these swine? I will sell them to you at half price if you will give me back the ears and tails.” The butcher bought the whole herd, and paid Giufà the money, together with the ears and tails.Giufà then went to a bog near by and planted two ears close together and three spans off a tail, and so with all of them. Then he ran in great trouble to the farmer and cried: “Sir, imagine what a great misfortune has happened to me. I had fattened your swine beautifully and was driving them home when they fell into a bog and are all swallowed up in it. The ears and tails only are still sticking out.” The farmer hastened with all his people to the bog, where the ears and tails still stuck out. They tried to pull the swine out, but whenever they seized an ear or a tail it came right off and Giufà exclaimed: “You see how fat the swine were: they have disappeared in the marsh from pure fatness.” The farmer was obliged to return home without his swine, while Giufà took the money home to his mother and remained a time with her.One day his mother said to him: “Giufà, we have nothing to eat to-day; what shall we do?” “Leave it to me,” said he, and went to a butcher. “Gossip, give me half a rotulu of meat; I will give you the money to-morrow.” The butcher gave him the meat and he went in the same way to the baker, the oil-merchant, the wine-dealer, and the cheese-merchant and took home to his mother the meat, macaroni, bread, oil, wine, and cheese which he had bought on credit, and they ate together merrily.The next day Giufà pretended he was dead and his mother wept and lamented. “My son is dead, my son is dead!” He was put in an open coffin and carried to the church and the priests sang the mass for the dead over him. When, however, every one in the city heard that Giufà was dead, the butcher, the baker, the oil-merchant, and the wine-dealer said: “What we gave him yesterday is as good as lost. Who will pay us for it now?” The cheese-dealer, however, thought: “Giufà, it is true, owes me only four grani but I will not give them to him. I will go and take his cap from him.” So he crept into the church, but there was still a priest there praying over Giufà’s coffin. “As long as the priest is there, it is not fitting for me to take his cap,” thought the cheese-merchant, and hid himself behind the altar. When it was night the last priest departed and the cheese-merchant was on the point of coming out from his hiding-place when a band of thieves rushed into the church. They had stolen a large bag of money and were going to divide it in the dark church. They quarrelled over the division and began to cry out and make a noise. Thereupon Giufà sat up in his coffin and exclaimed: “Out with you!” The thieves were greatly frightened when the dead man rose up, and believed he was calling to the other dead, so they ran out in terror, leaving the sack behind. As Giufà was picking up the sack, the cheese-merchant sprang from his hiding-place and claimed his share of the money. Giufà, however, kept crying: “Your share is four grani.” The thieves outside thought he was dividing the money among the dead and said to each other: “How many he must have called if they receive but four grani apiece!” and ran away as fast as they could run. Giufà took the money home to his mother, after he had given the cheese-merchant a little to say nothing about what had happened.Giufà’s mother once bought a large stock of flax and said to her son: “Giufà, you can surely spin a little so as to be doing something.” Giufà took a skein from time to time, and instead of spinning it put it in the fire and burned it. Then his mother became angry and beat him. What did Giufà do then? He took a bundle of twigs and wound it with flax like a distaff; then he took a broom for a spindle and sat himself on the roof and began to spin. While he was sitting there three fairies came by and said: “Just see how nicely Giufà is sitting there and spinning. Shall we not give him something?” The first fairy said: “I will enable him to spin as much flax in a night as he touches.” The second said: “I will enable him to weave in a night as much yarn as he has spun.” The third said: “I will enable him to bleach all the linen he has woven in one night.” Giufà heard this and at night when his mother had gone to bed, he got behind her stock of flax, and as often as he touched a skein it was at once spun. When the flax was all gone he began to weave, and as soon as he touched the loom the linen began to roll from it. Finally he spread the linen out and had scarcely wet it a little when it was bleached. The next morning Giufà showed his mother the fine pieces of linen, and she sold them and earned much money. Giufà continued this for several nights; finally he grew tired and wanted to go out to service again.He found a place with a smith, whose bellows he was to blow. He blew them so hard, however, that he put the fire out. The smith said: “Leave off blowing and hammer the iron on the anvil.” But Giufà pounded on the anvil so hard that the iron flew into a thousand pieces. Then the smith became angry, but he could not send him away, for he had agreed to keep him a year. So he went to a poor man and said: “I will make you a handsome present if you will tell Giufà that you are Death, and that you have come to take him away.” The poor man met Giufà one day, and said what the smith had told him. Giufà was not slow. “What, are you Death?” cried he, seized the poor man, put him in his sack, and carried him to the smithy. There he laid him on the anvil and began to hammer away on him. “How many years shall I yet live?” he asked, while he was hammering. “Twenty years,” cried the man in the sack. “That is not near enough.” “Thirty years, forty years, as long as you will,” screamed the man; but Giufà kept on hammering until the poor man was dead.The bishop once announced to the whole town that every goldsmith should make him a crucifix, and he would pay four hundred ounces for the most beautiful one. Whoever brought a crucifix that did not please him must lose his head. So a goldsmith came and brought him a handsome crucifix, but the bishop said it did not please him and had the poor man’s head cut off, but kept the crucifix. The next day a second goldsmith came, who brought a still handsomer crucifix, but it went no better with him than with the first. This lasted for some time and many a poor man lost his head. When Giufà heard of this he went to a goldsmith and said: “Master, you must make me a crucifix with a very thick body, but otherwise as fine as you can make it.” When the crucifix was done Giufà took it on his arm and carried it to the bishop. Scarcely had the bishop seen it when he cried out: “What are you thinking of, to bring me such a monster? Wait, you shall pay me for it!” “Ah, worthy sir,” said Giufà, “just hear me and learn what has happened to me. This crucifix was a model of beauty when I started with it; on the way it began to swell with anger and the nearer your house I came the more it swelled, most of all when I was mounting your stairs. The Lord is angry with you on account of the innocent blood that you have shed, and if you do not at once give me the four hundred ounces and an annuity to each of the goldsmiths’ widows, you, too, will swell in the same way, and God’s wrath will visit you.” The bishop was frightened and gave him the four hundred ounces, and bade him send all the widows to him so that he could give each of them a yearly pension. Giufà took the money and went to each widow and said: “What will you give me if I will procure you an annuity from the bishop?” Each gave him a handsome sum and Giufà took home to his mother a great heap of money.One day Giufà’s mother sent him to another town, where there was a fair. On the way some children met him, who asked: “Where are you going, Giufà?” “To the fair.” “Will you bring me back a whistle?” “Yes!” “And me, too?” “Yes!” “Me, too?” “Me, too?” asked one after the other, and Giufà said “Yes” to all. At last there was a child who said: “Giufà, bring me a whistle, too. Here is a penny.” When Giufà came back from the fair, he brought one whistle only and gave it to the last boy. “Giufà, you promised each of us one,” cried the other children. “You did not give me a penny to buy it with,” answered Giufà.
Once, long ago, Rabbit lived with his old grandmother deep in the Canadian forest, far from all other people. He was a great hunter, and all around, far and near, he laid snares and set traps to catch game for food. It was winter, and he caught many little animals and birds. He brought them home daily to feed himself and his old grandmother, and he was well pleased with his success. But after some weeks had passed he was unable to catch any game. He always found his traps and snares empty, although many tracks were always around them, and there were many signs that animals were prowling about. He knew then that he was being robbed nightly, and that a thief was pilfering his traps. It was very cold and the snow lay deep in the forest, and Rabbit and his old grandmother were in dire need of food. Every morning Rabbit rose very early and hurried off to his traps, but always he found them empty, for the thief had been ahead of him. He was greatly puzzled, for he could not think who the thief was.At last one morning, after a new fall of snow, he found the mark of a long foot near his traps, and he knew it was the foot of the game-robber. It was the longest foot-print he had ever seen, long and narrow and very light, like a moonbeam. And Rabbit said, “Now I shall rise earlier in the morning, and I shall go to my traps ahead of the thief and take my game, so that they will all be empty when he comes.” Each morning he rose earlier to catch the thief, but the man of the long foot was always there before him, and his game was always gone. No matter how early Rabbit got up, the thief was always ahead of him and his traps were always empty.So Rabbit said to his old grandmother, “The man of the long foot, who robs my traps, is always up ahead of me, no matter how early I rise. I will make a snare from a bow-string, and I will watch all this night, and I will surely catch him.” He made a trap from a stout bow-string and set it beside his snares, and took the end of the bow-string some distance away to a clump of trees, behind which he hid. He hoped that the thief would step into the trap; then he would pull the bow-string and tie him fast to a tree.He sat very quiet, waiting for the man of the long foot to appear. It was moonlight when he set out, but soon it grew very dark in the forest. The Moon suddenly disappeared. But the stars were all shining on the white snow and there were no clouds in the sky, and Rabbit wondered what had happened to the Moon. He waited very still and a little frightened in the starlight.Soon he heard some one coming, sneaking stealthily through the trees. Then he saw a white light which dazzled his eyes. The light went towards the snares, until it stopped just at the trap Rabbit had set. Then Rabbit pulled the bow-string, closed the trap as he had hoped, and tied the string fast to a tree. He heard sounds of a struggle, and he saw the white light move from side to side, but he knew that he had his prisoner fast and that the man of the long foot was caught at last. He was much afraid of the white light, and he ran home as fast as he could and told his old grandmother that he had caught the game-robber in the trap, and that he did not know who he was, for he was too frightened to look. And his grandmother said, “You must go back and see who it is, and tell him he must stop robbing your snares.”But Rabbit said, “I do not want to go until daylight, for the Moon has gone down and the forest is very dark.”But his grandmother said, “You must go.” So poor Rabbit, although he was very frightened by what he had seen, set out again for his traps.When he drew near to his snares he saw that the white light was still shining. It was so bright that his eyes were dazzled and he had to stop far from it. Then he approached nearer, but his eyes soon became very sore. There was a stream flowing beside him, and he bathed his eyes in the cold water, but it brought him no relief, and his eyes felt hot and red, and tears fell from them because of the dazzling light. Then he took great handfuls of snow and threw snowballs at the light, hoping thereby to put it out. But when the snowballs came near to the light they melted and fell down like rain. Then, with his eyes still smarting, Rabbit in his rage scooped up great handfuls of soft black mud from the bottom of the stream, and forming it into balls, he threw them with all his force at the white light.He heard them strike something with a dull thud, and he heard loud yells from the prisoner—the man of the long foot—behind the shining light. Then a voice came from the light, saying, “Why did you snare me? Come and untie me at once. I am the Man in the Moon. It is near to the morning, and before dawn I must be on my way home. You have already spotted my face with mud, and if you do not cut me loose at once, I shall kill all your tribe.”Poor Rabbit was more frightened than before, and he ran home and told his old grandmother what had happened. And his grandmother was also very frightened, for she thought that no good could come of it. And she told Rabbit to go back at once and untie the Man in the Moon, for the night was almost spent, and the dawn would soon be breaking. So poor Rabbit, trembling in his fear, went back to his traps. From a great distance he cried, “I will untie you if you will never again rob my snares, and if you will never come back to earth.”And the prisoner in the trap promised, and said, “I swear it by my white light.” Then Rabbit approached very carefully. He had to shut his eyes and grope his way because of the bright light, and his lip quivered because of the great heat. At last he rushed in and cut the bow-string snare with his teeth, and the Man in the Moon hurried on his way, for he could already see the dawn in the East. But Rabbit was almost blinded while he was about it, and his shoulders were badly scorched. And ever since that time Rabbit blinks and his eyelids are pink, and water runs from his eyes when he looks at a bright light; and his lip always quivers; and his shoulders are yellow, even when he wears his white winter coat, because of the great light and heat on the winter night long ago when he untied the Man in the Moon from the snare.And since that night the Man in the Moon has never come back to earth. He stays at his task in the sky, lighting the forest by night; but he still bears on his face the marks of the black mud which Rabbit threw at him. And sometimes for several nights he goes away to a quiet place, where he tries to wash off the mud; and then the land is dark. But he never succeeds in cleaning himself, and when he comes back to his work the marks of Rabbit’s mud-balls are still upon his shining face.
A Wasp settled on the head of a Snake, and not only stung him several times, but clung obstinately to the head of his victim. Maddened with pain the Snake tried every means he could think of to get rid of the creature, but without success. At last he became desperate, and crying, “Kill you I will, even at the cost of my own life,” he laid his head with the Wasp on it under the wheel of a passing waggon, and they both perished together.
Once upon a time there lived in Turkey a pasha who had only one son, and so dearly did he love this boy that he let him spend the whole day amusing himself, instead of learning how to be useful like his friends.Now the boy’s favourite toy was a golden ball, and with this he would play from morning till night, without troubling anybody. One day, as he was sitting in the summer-house in the garden, making his ball run all along the walls and catching it again, he noticed an old woman with an earthen pitcher coming to draw water from a well which stood in a corner of the garden. In a moment he had caught his ball and flung it straight at the pitcher, which fell to the ground in a thousand pieces. The old woman started with surprise, but said nothing; only turned round to fetch another pitcher, and as soon as she had disappeared, the boy hurried out to pick up his ball. Scarcely was he back in the summer-house when he beheld the old woman a second time, approaching the well with the pitcher on her shoulder. She had just taken hold of the handle to lower it into the water, when — crash ! And the pitcher lay in fragments at her feet. Of course she felt very angry, but for fear of the pasha she still held her peace, and spent her last pence in buying a fresh pitcher. But when this also was broken by a blow from the ball, her wrath burst forth, and shaking her fist towards the summer-house where the boy was hiding, she cried:‘I wish you may be punished by falling in love with the silent princess.’ And having said this she vanished.For some time the boy paid no heed to her words — indeed he forgot them altogether; but as years went by, and he began to think more about things, the remembrance of the old woman’s wish came back to his mind.‘Who is the silent princess ? And why should it be a punishment to fall in love with her ?’ he asked himself, and received no answer. However, that did not prevent him from putting the question again and again, till at length he grew so weak and ill that he could eat nothing, and in the end was forced to lie in bed altogether. His father the pasha became so frightened by this strange disease, that he sent for every physician in the kingdom to cure him, but no one was able to find a remedy.‘How did your illness first begin, my son ?’ asked the pasha one day. ‘Perhaps, if we knew that, we should also know better what to do for you.’Then the youth told him what had happened all those years before, when he was a little boy, and what the old woman had said to him.‘Give me, I pray you,’ he cried, when his tale was finished, ‘give me, I pray you, leave to go into the world in search of the princess, and perhaps this evil state may cease.’ And, sore though his heart was to part from his only son, the pasha felt that the young man would certainly die if he remained at home any longer.‘Go, and peace be with you,’ he answered; and went out to call his trusted steward, whom he ordered to accompany his young master.Their preparations were soon made, and early one morning the two set out. But neither old man nor young had the slightest idea of where they were going, or what they were undertaking. First they lost their way in a dense forest, and from that they at length emerged in a wilderness where they wandered for six months, not seeing a living creature and finding scarcely anything to eat or drink, till they became nothing but skin and bone, while their garments hung in tatters about them. They had forgotten all about the princess, and their only wish was to find themselves back in the palace again, when, one day, they discovered that they were standing on the shoulder of a mountain. The stones beneath them shone as brightly as diamonds, and both their hearts beat with joy at beholding a tiny old man approaching them. The sight awoke all manner of recollections; the numb feeling that had taken possession of them fell away as if by magic, and it was with glad voices that they greeted the new-corner. ‘Where are we, my friend ?’ asked they; and the old man told them that this was the mountain where the sultan’s daughter sat, covered by seven veils, and the shining of the stones was only the reflection of her own brilliance.On hearing this news all the dangers and difficulties of their past wandering vanished from their minds.‘How can I reach her soonest ?’ asked the youth eagerly. But the old man only answered:‘Have patience, my son, yet awhile. Another six months must go by before you arrive at the palace where she dwells with the rest of the women. And, even so, think well, when you can, as should you fail to make her speak, you will have to pay forfeit with your life, as others have done. So beware !’But the prince only laughed at this counsel — as others had also done.After three months they found themselves on the top of another mountain, and the prince saw with surprise that its sides were coloured a beautiful red. Perched on some cliffs, not far off, was a small village, and the prince proposed to his friend that they should go and rest there. The villagers, on their part, welcomed them gladly, and gave them food to eat and beds to sleep on, and thankful indeed were the two travellers to repose their weary limbs.The next morning they asked their host if he could tell them whether they were still many days’ journey from the princess, and whether he knew why the mountain was so much redder than other mountains.‘For three and a half more months you must still pursue your way,’ answered he, ‘and by that time you will find yourselves at the gate of the princess’s palace. As for the colour of the mountain, that comes from the soft hue of her cheeks and mouth, which shines through the seven veils which cover her. But none have ever beheld her face, for she sits there, uttering no word, though one hears whispers of many having lost their lives for her sake.’The prince, however, would listen no further; and thanking the man for his kindness, he jumped up and, with the steward, set out to climb the mountain.On and on and on they went, sleeping under the trees or in caves, and living upon berries and any fish they could catch in the rivers. But at length, when their clothes were nearly in rags and their legs so tired that they could hardly walk any further, they saw on the top of the next mountain a palace of yellow marble.‘There it is, at last,’ cried the prince; and fresh blood seemed to spring in his veins. But as he and his companion began to climb towards the top they paused in horror, for the ground was white with dead men’s skulls. It was the prince who first recovered his voice, and he said to his friend, as carelessly as he could:‘These must be the skulls of the men who tried to make the princess speak and failed. Well, if we fail too, our bones will strew the ground likewise.’‘Oh ! turn back now, my prince, while there is yet time,’ entreated his companion. ‘Your father gave you into my charge; but when we set out I did not know that certain death lay before us.’‘Take heart, O Lala, take heart!’ answered the prince. ‘A man can but die once. And, besides, the princess will have to speak some day, you know.’So they went on again, past skulls and dead men’s bones in all degrees of whiteness. And by — and – by they reached another village, where they determined to rest for a little while, so that their wits might be fresh and bright for the task that lay before them. But this time, though the people were kind and friendly, their faces were gloomy, and every now and then woeful cries would rend the air.‘Oh ! my brother, have I lost you ?’ ‘Oh ! my son, shall I see you no more ?’ And then, as the prince and his companion asked the meaning of these laments — which, indeed, was plain enough — the answer was given:‘Ah, you also have come hither to die ! This town belongs to the father of the princess, and when any rash man seeks to move the princess to speech he must first obtain leave of the sultan. If that is granted him he is then led into the presence of the princess. What happens afterwards, perhaps the sight of these bones may help you to guess.’The young man bowed his head in token of thanks, and stood thoughtful for a short time. Then, turning to the Lala, he said:‘Well, our destiny will soon be decided ! Meanwhile we will find out all we can, and do nothing rashly.’For two or three days they wandered about the bazaars, keeping their eyes and ears open, when, one morning, they met a man carrying a nightingale in a cage. The bird was singing so joyously that the prince stopped to listen, and at once offered to buy him from his owner.‘Oh, why cumber yourself with such a useless thing,’ cried the Lala in disgust; ‘have you not enough to occupy your hands and mind, without taking an extra burden ?’ But the prince, who liked having his own way, paid no heed to him, and paying the high price asked by the man, he carried the bird back to the inn, and hung him up in his chamber. That evening, as he was sitting alone, trying to think of something that would make the princess talk, and failing altogether, the nightingale pecked open his cage door, which was lightly fastened by a stick, and, perching on his shoulder, murmured softly in his ear:‘What makes you so sad, my prince ?’ The young man started. In his native country birds did not talk, and, like many people, he was always rather afraid of what he did not understand. But in a moment he felt ashamed of his folly, and explained that he had travelled for more than a year, and over thousands of miles, to win the hand of the sultan’s daughter. And now that he had reached his goal he could think of no plan to force her to speak.‘Oh ! do not trouble your head about that,’ replied the bird, ‘it is quite easy ! Go this evening to the women’s apartments, and take me with you, and when you enter the princess’s private chamber hide me under the pedestal which supports the great golden candlestick. The princess herself will be wrapped so thickly in her seven veils that she can see nothing, neither can her face be seen by anyone. Then inquire after her health, but she will remain quite silent; and next say that you are sorry to have disturbed her, and that you will have a little talk with the pedestal of the candlestick. When you speak I will answer.’The prince threw his mantle over the bird, and started for the palace, where he begged an audience of the sultan. This was soon granted him, and leaving the nightingale hidden by the mantle, in a dark corner outside the door, he walked up to the throne on which his highness was sitting, and bowed low before him.‘What is your request ?’ asked the sultan, looking closely at the young man, who was tall and handsome; but when he heard the tale he shook his head pityingly.‘If you can make her speak she shall be your wife,’ answered he; ‘but if not — did you mark the skulls that strewed the mountain side ?’‘Some day a man is bound to break the spell, O sultan,’ replied the youth boldly; ‘and why should not I be he as well as another ? At any rate, my word is pledged, and I cannot draw back now.’‘Well, go if you must,’ said the sultan. And he bade his attendants lead the way to the chamber of the princess, but to allow the young man to enter alone.Catching up, unseen, his mantle and the cage as they passed into the dark corridor — for by this time night was coming on — the youth found himself standing in a room bare except for a pile of silken cushions, and one tall golden candlestick. His heart beat high as he looked at the cushions, and knew that, shrouded within the shining veils that covered them, lay the much longed-for princess. Then, fearful that after all other eyes might be watching him, he hastily placed the nightingale under the open pedestal on which the candlestick was resting, and turning again he steadied his voice, and besought the princess to tell him of her well-being.Not by even a movement of her hand did the princess show that she had heard, and the young man, who of course expected this, went on to speak of his travels and of the strange countries he had passed through; but not a sound broke the silence.‘I see clearly that you are interested in none of these things,’ said he at last, ‘and as I have been forced to hold my peace for so many months, I feel that now I really must talk to somebody, so I shall go and address my conversation to the candlestick.’ And with that he crossed the room behind the princess, and cried: ‘ O fairest of candlesticks, how are you ?’‘Very well indeed, my lord,’ answered the nightingale; ‘but I wonder how many years have gone by since any one has spoken with me ? And, now that you have come, rest, I pray you, awhile, and listen to my story.’‘Willingly,’ replied the youth, curling himself up on the floor, for there was no cushion for him to sit on.‘Once upon a time,’ began the nightingale, ‘there lived a pasha whose daughter was the most beautiful maiden in the whole kingdom. Suitors she had in plenty, but she was not easy to please, and at length there were only three whom she felt she could even think of marrying. Not knowing which of the three she liked best, she took counsel with her father, who summoned the young men into his presence, and then told them that they must each of them learn some trade, and whichever of them proved the cleverest at the end of six months should become the husband of the princess.‘Though the three suitors may have been secretly disappointed, they could not help feeling that this test was quite fair, and left the palace together, talking as they went of what handicrafts they might set themselves to follow. The day was hot, and when they reached a spring that gushed out of the side of the mountain, they stopped to drink and rest, and then one of them said:‘ ” It will be best that we should each seek our fortunes alone; so let us put our rings under this stone, and go our separate ways. And the first one who returns hither will take his ring, and the others will take theirs. Thus we shall know whether we have all fulfilled the commands of the pasha, or if some accident has befallen any of us.”‘ ” Good,” replied the other two. And the three rings were placed in a little hole, and carefully covered again by the stone.‘Then they parted, and for six months they knew naught of each other, till, on the day appointed, they met at the spring. Right glad they all were, and eagerly they talked of what they had done, and how the time had been spent.‘ ” I think I shall win the princess,” said the eldest, with a laugh, “for it is not everybody that is able to accomplish a whole year’s journey in an hour !”‘ ” That is very clever, certainly,” answered his friend; “but if you are to govern a kingdom it may be still more useful to have the power of seeing what is happening at a distance; and that is what I have leant,” replied the second.‘ ” No, no, my dear comrades,” cried the third, “your trades are all very well; but when the pasha hears that I can bring back the dead to life he will know which of us three is to be his son-in-law. But come, there only remain a few hours of the six months he granted us. It is time that we hastened back to the palace.”‘ ” Stop a moment,” said the second, “it would be well to know what is going on in the palace.” And plucking some small leaves from a tree near by, he muttered some words and made some signs, and laid them on his eyes. In an instant he turned pale, and uttered a cry.‘ ” What is it ? What is it ?” exclaimed the others; and, with a shaking voice, he gasped:“The princess is lying on her bed, and has barely a few minutes to live. Oh ! can no one save her ?”I can,” answered the third, taking a small box from his turban; “this ointment will cure any illness. But how to reach her in time ?”‘”Give it to me,” said the first. And he wished himself by the bedside of the princess, which was surrounded by the sultan and his weeping courtiers. Clearly there was not a second to lose, for the princess had grown unconscious, and her face cold. Plunging his finger into the ointment he touched her eyes, mouth and ears with the paste, and with beating heart awaited the result.‘It was swifter than he supposed. As he looked the colour came back into her cheeks, and she smiled up at her father. The sultan, almost speechless with joy at this sudden change, embraced his daughter tenderly, and then turned to the young man to whom he owed her life:‘ ” Are you not one of those three whom I sent forth to learn a trade six months ago ?” asked he. And the young man answered yes, and that the other two were even now on their way to the palace, so that the sultan might judge between them.’At this point in his story the nightingale stopped, and. asked the prince which of the three he thought had the best right to the princess.‘The one who had learned how to prepare the ointment,’ replied he.‘But if it had not been for the man who could see what was happening at a distance they would never have known that the princess was ill,’ said the nightingale. ‘I would give it to him.’ And the strife between them waxed hot, till, suddenly, the listening princess started up from her cushions and cried:‘Oh, you fools ! cannot you understand that if it had not been for him who had power to reach the palace in time the ointment itself would have been useless, for death would have claimed her ? It is he and no other who ought to have the princess !’At the first sound of the princess’s voice, a slave, who was standing at the door, ran at full speed to tell the sultan of the miracle which bad taken place, and the delighted father hastened to the spot. But by this time the princess perceived that she had fallen into a trap which had been cunningly laid for her, and would not utter another word. All she could be prevailed on to do was to make signs to her father that the man who wished to be her husband must induce her to speak three times. And she smiled to herself beneath her seven veils as she thought of the impossibility of that !When the sultan told the prince that though he had succeeded once, he would have twice to pass through the same test, the young man’s face clouded over. It did not seem to him fair play, but he dared not object, so he only bowed low, and contrived to step back close to the spot where the nightingale was hidden. As it was now quite dark he tucked unseen the little cage under his cloak, and left the palace.‘Why are you so gloomy ?’ asked the nightingale, as soon as they were safely outside. ‘Everything has gone exactly right ! Of course the princess was very angry with herself for having spoken. And did you see that, at her first words, the veils that covered her began to rend ? Take me back to-morrow evening, and place me on the pillar by the lattice. Fear nothing, you have only to trust to me !’The next evening, towards sunset, the prince left the cage behind him, and with the bird in the folds of his garment slipped into the palace and made his way straight to the princess’s apartments. He was at once admitted by the slaves who guarded the door, and took care to pass near the window so that the nightingale hopped unseen to the top of a pillar. Then he turned and bowed low to the princess, and asked her several questions; but, as before, she answered nothing, and, indeed, gave no sign that she heard. After a few minutes the young man bowed again, and crossing over to the window, he said:‘Oh, pillar ! it is no use speaking to the princess, she will not utter one word; and as I must talk to somebody, I have come to you. Tell me how you have been all this long while ?’‘ I thank you,’ replied a voice from the pillar, ‘I am feeling very well. And it is lucky for me that the princess is silent, or else you would not have wanted to speak to me. To reward you, I will relate to you an interesting tale that I lately overheard, and about which I should like to have your opinion.’‘That will be charming,’ answered the prince, ‘so pray begin at once.’‘Once upon a time,’ said the nightingale, ‘there lived a woman who was so beautiful that every man who saw her fell in love with her. But she was very hard to please, and refused to wed any of them, though she managed to keep friends with all. Years passed away in this manner, almost without her noticing them, and one by one the young men grew tired of waiting, and sought wives who may have been less handsome, but were also less proud, and at length only three of her former wooers remained — Baldschi, Jagdschi, and Firedschi. Still she held herself apart, thought herself better and lovelier than other women, when, on a certain evening, her eyes were opened at last to the truth. She was sitting before her mirror, combing her curls, when amongst her raven locks she found a long white hair !‘At this dreadful sight her heart gave a jump, and then stood still. I am growing old,” she said to herself, “and if I do not choose a husband soon, I shall never get one ! I know that either of those men would gladly marry me to-morrow, but I cannot decide between them. I must invent some way to find out which of them is the best, and lose no time about it.”‘So instead of going to sleep, she thought all night long of different plans, and in the morning she arose and dressed herself.‘ ” That will have to do,” she muttered as she pulled out the white hair which had cost her so much trouble. “It is not very good, but I can think of nothing better; and — well, they are none of them clever, and I dare say they will easily fall into the trap.” Then she called her slave and bade her let Jagdschi know that she would be ready to receive him in an hour’s time. After that she went into the garden and dug a grave under a tree, by which she laid a white shroud.‘Jagdschi was delighted to get the gracious message; and, putting on his newest garments, he hastened to the lady’s house, but great was his dismay at finding her stretched on her cushions, weeping bitterly.‘ ” What is the matter, O Fair One ?” he asked, bowing low before her.‘ ” A terrible thing has happened,” said she, her voice choked with sobs. “My father died two nights ago, and I buried him in my garden. But now I find that he was a wizard, and was not dead at all, for his grave is empty and he is wandering about somewhere in the world.”‘ ” That is evil news, indeed,” answered Jagdschi; “but can I do nothing to comfort you ?”There is one thing you can do,” replied she, “and that is to wrap yourself in the shroud and lay yourself in the grave. If he should not return till after three hours have elapsed he will have lost his power over me, and be forced to go and wander elsewhere.”‘Now Jagdschi was proud of the trust reposed in him, and wrapping himself in the shroud, he stretched himself at full length in the grave. After some time Baldschi arrived in his turn, and found the lady groaning and lamenting. She told him that her father had been a wizard, and that in case, as was very likely, he should wish to leave his grave and come to work her evil, Baldschi was to take a stone and be ready to crush in his head, if he showed signs of moving.‘Baldschi, enchanted at being able to do his lady a service, picked up a stone, and seated himself by the side of the grave wherein lay Jagdschi.‘Meanwhile the hour arrived in which Firedsehi was accustomed to pay his respects, and, as in the case of the other two, he discovered the lady overcome with grief. To him she said that a wizard who was an enemy of her father’s had thrown the dead man out of his grave, and had taken his place. “But,” she added, “if you can bring the wizard into my presence, all his power will go from him; if not, then I am lost.”‘ ” Ah, lady, what is there that I would not do for you !” cried Firedschi; and running down to the grave, he seized the astonished Jagdschi by the waist, and flinging the body over his shoulder, he hastened with him into the house. At the first moment Baidsohi was so surprised at this turn of affairs, for which the lady had not prepared him, that he sat still and did nothing. But by-and-by he sprang up and hurled the stone after the two flying figures, hoping that it might kill them both. Fortunately it touched neither, and soon all three were in the presence of the lady. Then Jagdschi, thinking that he had delivered her from the power of the wizard, slid off the back of Firedschi, and threw the shroud from him.’‘Tell me, my prince,’ said the nightingale, when he had finished his story, ‘which of the three men deserved to win the lady ? I myself should choose Firedschi.’‘No, no,’ answered the prince, who understood the wink the bird had given him; ‘it was Baldschi who took the most trouble, and it was certainly he who deserved the lady.’But the nightingale would not agree; and they began to quarrel, till a third voice broke in:‘How can you talk such nonsense ?’ cried the princess — and as she spoke a sound of tearing was heard. ‘Why, you have never even thought of Jagdschi, who lay for three hours in the grave, with a stone held over his head ! Of course it was he whom the lady chose for her husband !’It was not many minutes before the news reached the sultan; but even now he would not consent to the marriage till his daughter had spoken a third time. On hearing this, the young man took counsel with the nightingale how best to accomplish this, and the bird told him that as the princess, in her fury at having fallen into the snare laid for her, had ordered the pillar to be broken in pieces, he must be hidden in the folds of a curtain that hung by the door.The following evening the prince entered the palace, and walked boldly up to the princess’s apartments. As he entered the nightingale flew from under his arm and perched himself on top of the door, where he was entirely concealed by the folds of the dark curtain. The young man talked as usual to the princess without obtaining a single word in reply, and at length he left her lying under the heap of shining veils — now rent in many places — and crossed the room towards the door, from which came a voice that gladly answered him.For a while the two talked together; then the nightingale asked if the prince was fond of stories, as he had lately heard one which interested and perplexed him greatly. In reply, the prince begged that he might hear it at once, and without further delay the nightingale began:‘Once upon a time, a carpenter, a tailor, and a student set out together to see the world. After wandering about for some months they grew tired of travelling, and resolved to stay and rest in a small town that took their fancy. So they hired a little house, and looked about for work to do, returning at sunset to smoke their pipes and talk over the events of the day.‘One night in the middle of summer it was hotter than usual, and the carpenter found himself unable to sleep. Instead of tossing about on his cushions, making himself more uncomfortable than he was already, the man wisely got up and drank some coffee and lit his long pipe. Suddenly his eye fell on some pieces of wood in a corner and, being very clever with his fingers, he had soon set up a perfect statue of a girl about fourteen years old. This so pleased and quieted him that he grew quite drowsy, and going back to bed fell fast asleep.‘But the carpenter was not the only person who lay awake that night. Thunder was in the air, and the tailor became so restless that he thought he would go downstairs and cool his feet in the little fountain outside the garden door. To reach the door he had to pass through the room where the carpenter had sat and smoked, and against the wall he beheld standing a beautiful girl. He stood speechless for an instant before he ventured to touch her hand, when, to his amazement, he found that she was fashioned out of wood.‘ ” Ah! I can make you more beautiful still,” said he. And fetching from a shelf a roll of yellow silk which he had bought that day from a merchant, he cut and draped and stitched, till at length a lovely robe clothed the slender figure. When this was finished, the restlessness had departed from him, and he went back to bed.‘As dawn approached the student arose and prepared to go to the mosque with the first ray of sunlight. But, when he saw the maiden standing there, he fell on his knees and lifted his hands in ecstasy.‘ ” Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air, clad in the beauty of ten thousand stars,” he murmured to himself. “Surely a form so rare was never meant to live without a soul.” And forthwith he prayed with all his might that life should be breathed into it.‘And his prayer was heard, and the beautiful statue became a living girl, and the three men all fell in love with her, and each desired to have her to wife.‘Now,’ said the nightingale, ‘to which of them did the maiden really belong ? It seems to me that the carpenter had the best right to her.’‘Oh, but the student would never have thought of praying that she might be given a soul had not the tailor drawn attention to her loveliness by the robe which he put upon her,’ answered the prince, who guessed what he was expected to say; and they soon set up quite a pretty quarrel. Suddenly the princess, furious that neither of them alluded to the part played by the student, quite forgot her vow of silence and cried loudly:‘Idiots that you are ! how could she belong to any one but the student ? If it had not been for him, all that the others did would have gone for nothing ! Of course it was he who married the maiden !’ And as she spoke the seven veils fell from her, and she stood up, the fairest princess that the world has ever seen.‘You have won me,’ she said smiling, holding out her hand to the prince.And so they were married; and after the wedding-feast was over they sent for the old woman whose pitcher the prince had broken so long ago, and she dwelt in the palace, and became nurse to their children, and. lived happily till she died.
The Story of a Sharp Lad and a Sharper LadLong ago there lived a man who employed a boy to take care of his pigs. The lad’s name was Peter and he was commonly called by every one in the countryside Peter-of-the-pigs.One day a man came up to him and said:“Sell me these seven pigs.”“I can’t sell but six of them,” said Peter. “I must keep one, but you may buy the other six if you will cut off their tails and ears and leave them for me.”The man promised to do this, and the boy pocketed the money. The six pigs looked sad enough without their tails and ears as they were driven away by their new master.Peter led his one remaining pig down to the sand pit. He buried it halfway in the sand. He buried the tails and ears of the other six pigs, too, so that part of them stuck out. Then he ran with all speed for his master.“Come and help me get the pigs out of the sand pit!” he called out.His master ran as fast as he could to the sand pit. There he saw one of the pigs halfway out of the sand. He and Peter together soon pulled it out completely. Then he took hold of the tail nearby. To his horror it appeared to break off in his hand.“Run to the house and ask my wife to give you two shovels!” cried the owner of the pigs. “With the shovels we can dig out the rest of the pigs.”The boy ran to the house. He knew that his master kept his money in two big bags.“My master says that you shall give me his two money bags,” said Peter to his mistress.The woman did not approve of doing this. “Are you sure he said both of them?” she asked.“Yes, both of them,” said Peter. “Go ask him yourself.”Accordingly, the woman ran out of the house.“Did you say both of them?” she called to her husband.“Yes, both of them,” he replied. “Be quick about it, too.”Of course the poor man thought that she was asking about the two shovels which he had sent Peter to get.Thus Peter received his master’s two bags of money, and set out into the world with the bags on his shoulder and his pockets full of the money he had obtained from the sale of the six pigs.After a time Peter-of-the-pigs met a robber. The robber stole one of his money bags and ran away with it. Peter ran after him.Now it happened that the robber had just killed a deer. He was carrying the liver inside his blouse. As he ran he threw it back so that he could run faster. Peter saw what he had done.“If you want to catch me, you’ll have to throw away your liver, too,” called out the robber over his shoulder.Peter-of-the-pigs pulled out his knife and cut out his liver. Of course he dropped dead at once.When at last Peter’s master found out that he had been deceived he ran after the lad. As he found him lying dead there by the wayside, he said:“Oh, Peter-of-the-pigs! You were sharp, but you found some one who was sharper.”Thus it is in life.
Between the island of Manhattoes and the Catskills the Hudson shores were plagued with spooks, and even as late as the nineteenth century Hans Anderson, a man who tilled a farm back of Peekskill, was worried into his grave by the leaden-face likeness of a British spy whom he had hanged on General Putnam’s orders. “Old Put” doubtless enjoyed immunity from this vexatious creature, because he was born with few nerves. A region especially afflicted was the confluence of the Croton and the Hudson, for the Kitchawan burying-ground was here, and the red people being disturbed by the tramping of white men over their graves, “the walking sachems of Teller’s Point” were nightly to be met on their errands of protest.These Indians had built a palisade on Croton Point, and here they made their last stand against their enemies from the north. Throughout the fight old chief Croton stood on the wall with arrows showering around him, and directed the resistance with the utmost calm. Not until every one of his men was dead and the fort was going up in flame about him did he confess defeat. Then standing amid the charring timbers, he used his last breath in calling down the curse of the Great Spirit against the foe. As the victorious enemy rushed into the enclosure to secure the scalps of the dead he fell lifeless into the fire, and their jubilant yell was lost upon his ears. Yet, he could not rest nor bear to leave his ancient home, even after death, and often his form, in musing attitude, was seen moving through the woods. When a manor was built on the ruins of his fort, he appeared to the master of it, to urge him into the Continental army, and having seen this behest obeyed and laid a solemn injointure to keep the freedom of the land forever, he vanished, and never appeared again.
A pedlar journeyed with his pack upon the great high-road which leads to the city of Kioto. He found a child sitting all alone by the wayside.“Well, my little girl,” he said, “and what make you all alone by the wayside?”“What do you,” said the child, “with a staff and a pack, and sandals outworn?”“I am bound for Kioto, and the Mikado’s Palace, to sell my gauds to the ladies of the Court.”“Ah,” said the child, “take me too.”“What is your name, my little girl?”“I have no name.”“Whence come you?”“I come from nowhere.”“You seem to be about seven years old.”“I have no age.”“Why are you here?”“I have been waiting for you.”“How long have you waited?”“For more than a hundred years.”The Pedlar laughed.“Take me to Kioto,” said the child.“You may come if you will,” said the Pedlar. So they went their ways together, and in time they came to Kioto and to the Mikado’s Palace. Here the child danced in the august presence of the Son of Heaven. She was as light as the sea-bird upon a wave’s crest. When she had made an end of dancing, the Mikado called her to him.“Little maid,” he said, “what guerdon shall I give you? Ask!”“O Divinely Descended,” said the child, “Son of the Gods … I cannot ask…. I am afraid.”“Ask without fear,” said the Mikado.The child murmured, “Let me stay in the bright presence of your Augustness.”“So be it,” said the Mikado, and he received the child into his household. And he called her Tamamo.Very speedily she became mistress of every lovely art. She could sing, and she could play upon any instrument of music. She had more skill in painting than any painter in the land; she was a wonder with the needle and a wonder at the loom. The poetry that she made moved men to tears and to laughter. The many thousand characters were child’s play to her, and all the hard philosophies she had at her fingers’ ends. She knew Confucius well enough, the Scriptures of Buddha, and the lore of Cathay. She was called the Exquisite Perfection, the Gold Unalloyed, the Jewel without Flaw.And the Mikado loved her.Soon he clean forgot honour and duty and kingly state. Day and night he kept Tamamo by his side. He grew rough and fierce and passionate, so that his servants feared to approach him. He grew sick, listless, and languid, he pined, and his physicians could do nothing for him.“Alas and alack,” they cried, “what ails the Divinely Descended? Of a surety he is bewitched. Woe! woe! for he will die upon our hands.”“Out upon them, every one,” cried the Mikado, “for a pack of tedious fools. As for me, I will do my own will and pleasure.”He was mad for love of Tamamo.He took her to his Summer Palace, where he prepared a great feast in her honour. To the feast were bidden all the highest of the land, princes and lords and ladies of high estate; and, willy-nilly, to the Summer Palace they all repaired, where was the Mikado, wan and wild, and mad with love, and Tamamo by his side, attired in scarlet and cloth of gold. Radiantly fair she was, and she poured the Mikado’s saké out of a golden flagon.He looked into her eyes.“Other women are feeble toys beside you,” he said. “There’s not a woman here that’s fit to touch the end of your sleeve. O Tamamo, how I love you….”He spoke loudly so that all could hear him, and laughed bitterly when he had spoken.“My lord … my lord …” said Tamamo.Now as the high company sat and feasted, the sky became overcast with black clouds, and the moon and the stars were hid. Suddenly a fearful wind tore through the Summer Palace and put out every torch in the great Hall of Feasting. And the rain came down in torrents. In the pitchy darkness fear and horror fell upon the assembly. The courtiers ran to and fro in a panic, the air was full of cries, the tables were overturned. The dishes and drinking-vessels crashed together, the saké spilled and soaked into the white mats. Then a radiance was made visible. It came from the place where Tamamo was, and it streamed in long flames of fire from her body.The Mikado cried aloud in a terrible voice, “Tamamo! Tamamo! Tamamo!” three times. And when he had done this he fell in a deathly swoon upon the ground.And for many days he was thus, and he seemed either asleep or dead, and no one could recover him from his swoon.Then the Wise and Holy Men of the land met together, and when they had prayed to the gods, they called to them Abé Yasu, the Diviner. They said:“O Abé Yasu, learned in dark things, find out for us the cause, and if it may be, the cure, of our Lord’s strange sickness. Perform divination for us, O Abé Yasu.”Then Abé Yasu performed divination, and he came before the Wise Men and said:“The wine is sweet, but the aftertaste is bitter. Set not your teeth in the golden persimmon, It is rotten at the core. Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily, Pluck it not. What is beauty? What is wisdom? What is love? Be not deceived. They are threads in the fabric of illusion!”Then the Wise Men said, “Speak out, Abé Yasu, for your saying is dark, and we cannot understand it.”“I will do more than speak,” said Abé Yasu. And he spent three days in fasting and in prayer. Then he took the sacred Gohei from its place in the Temple, and calling the Wise Men to him he waved the sacred Gohei and with it touched each one of them. And together they went to Tamamo’s bower, and Abé Yasu took the sacred Gohei in his right hand.Tamamo was in her bower adorning herself, and her maidens were with her.“My lords,” she said, “you come all unbidden. What would you have with me?”“My lady Tamamo,” said Abé Yasu the Diviner, “I have made a song after the fashion of the Chinese. You who are learned in poetry, I pray you hear and judge my song.”“I am in no mood for songs,” she said, “with my dear lord lying sick to death.”“Nevertheless, my lady Tamamo, this song of mine you needs must hear.”“Why, then, if I must …” she said.Then spoke Abé Yasu:“The wine is sweet, the aftertaste is bitter. Set not your teeth in the golden persimmon, It is rotten at the core. Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily, Pluck it not. What is beauty? What is wisdom? What is love? Be not deceived. They are threads in the fabric of illusion!”When Abé Yasu the Diviner had spoken, he came to Tamamo and he touched her with the sacred Gohei.She gave a loud and terrible cry, and on the instant her form was changed into that of a great fox having nine long tails and hair like golden wire. The fox fled from Tamamo’s bower, away and away, until it reached the far plain of Nasu, and it hid itself beneath a great black stone that was upon that plain.But the Mikado was immediately recovered from his sickness.Soon, strange and terrible things were told concerning the great stone of Nasu. A stream of poisonous water flowed from under it and withered the bright flowers of the plain. All who drank of the stream died, both man and beast. Moreover, nothing could go near the stone and live. The traveller who rested in its shadow arose no more, and the birds that perched upon it fell dead in a moment. People named it the Death Stone, and thus it was called for more than a hundred years.Then it chanced that Genyo, the High Priest, who was a holy man indeed, took his staff and his begging bowl and went upon a pilgrimage.When he came to Nasu, the dwellers upon the plain put rice into his bowl.“O thou Holy Man,” they said, “beware the Death Stone of Nasu. Rest not in its shade.”But Genyo, the High Priest, having remained a while in thought, made answer thus:“Know, my children, what is written in the Book of the Good Law: ‘Herbs, trees and rocks shall all enter into Nirvana.’”With that he took his way to the Death Stone. He burnt incense, he struck the stone with his staff, and he cried, “Come forth, Spirit of the Death Stone; come forth, I conjure thee.”Then there was a great flame of fire and a rending noise, and the Stone burst and split in sunder. From the stone and from the fire there came a woman.She stood before the Holy Man. She said:“I am Tamamo, once called the Proud Perfection; I am the golden-haired Fox; I know the Sorceries of the East; I was worshipped by the Princes of Ind; I was great Cathay’s undoing; I was wise and beautiful, Evil incarnate. The power of the Buddha has changed me; I have dwelt in grief for a hundred years; Tears have washed away my beauty and my sin. Shrive me, Genyo, shrive me, Holy Man; Let me have peace.”“Poor Spirit,” said Genyo. “Take my staff and my priestly robe and my begging bowl and set forth upon the long journey of repentance.”Tamamo took the priestly robe and put it upon her; in one hand she took the staff, in the other the bowl. And when she had done this, she vanished for ever from the sight of earthly men.“O thou, Tathagatha,” said Genyo, “and thou, Kwannon, Merciful Lady, make it possible that one day even she may attain Nirvana.”
A Walnut-tree, which grew by the roadside, bore every year a plentiful crop of nuts. Every one who passed by pelted its branches with sticks and stones, in order to bring down the fruit, and the tree suffered severely. “It is hard,” it cried, “that the very persons who enjoy my fruit should thus reward me with insults and blows.”
There was a poor peasant, named Crab, who once drove two oxen, with a load of wood, into the city, and there sold it for two dollars to a doctor. The doctor counted out the money to him as he sat at dinner, and the peasant, seeing how well he fared, yearned to live like him, and would needs be a doctor too. He stood a little while in thought, and at last asked if he could not become a doctor.“Oh yes,” said the doctor, “that may be easily managed. In the first place you must purchase an A, B, C book, only taking care that it is one that has got in the front of it a picture of a cock crowing. Then sell your cart and oxen, and buy with the money clothes, and all the other things needful. Thirdly, and lastly, have a sign painted with the words, ‘I am Doctor All-Wise,’ and have it nailed up before the door of your house.”The peasant did exactly as he had been told; and after he had doctored a little while, it chanced that a certain nobleman was robbed of a large sum of money. Some one told him that there lived in the village hard by a Doctor All-Wise, who was sure to be able to tell him where his money had gone. The nobleman at once ordered his carriage to be got ready and rode into the city, and having come to the doctor, asked him if he was Dr. All-Wise.“Oh yes,” answered he, “I am Doctor All-Wise, sure enough.”“Will you go with me, then,” said the nobleman, “and get me back my money?”“To be sure I will,” said the doctor; “but my wife Grethel must go with me.”The nobleman was pleased to hear this, made them both get into the carriage with him, and away they all rode together. When they arrived at the nobleman’s house dinner was already prepared, and he desired the doctor to sit down with him.“My wife Grethel, too,” said the doctor.As soon as the first servant brought in the first dish, which was some great delicacy, the doctor nudged his wife, and said—“Grethel, that is the first,” meaning the first dish.The servant overheard his remark, and thought he meant to say he was the first thief, which was actually the case, so he was sore troubled, and said to his comrades—“The doctor knows everything. Things will certainly fall out ill, for he said I was the first thief.”The second servant would not believe what he said, but at last he was obliged, for when he carried the second dish into the room, the doctor remarked to his wife—“Grethel, that is the second.”The second servant was now as much frightened as the first, and was pleased to leave the apartment. The third served no better, for the doctor said—“Grethel, that is the third.”Now the fourth carried in a dish which had a cover on it, and the nobleman desired the doctor to show his skill by guessing what was under the cover. Now it was a crab. The doctor looked at the dish, and then at the cover, and could not at all divine what they contained, nor how to get out of the scrape. At length he said, half to himself and half aloud—“Alas! poor crab!”When the nobleman heard this, he cried out—“You have guessed it, and now I am sure you will know where my money is.”The servant was greatly troubled at this, and he winked to the doctor to follow him out of the room, and no sooner did he do so than the whole four who had stolen the gold stood before him, and said that they would give it up instantly, and give him a good sum to boot, provided he would not betray them, for if he did their necks would pay for it. The doctor promised, and they conductedhim to the place where the gold lay concealed. The doctor was well pleased to see it, and went back to the nobleman, and said—“My lord, I will now search in my book and discover where the money is.”Now the fifth servant had crept into an oven to hear what the doctor said. He sat for some time turning over the leaves of his A, B, C book, looking for the picture of the crowing cock, and as he did not find it readily, he exclaimed—“I know you are in here, and you must come out.”Then the man in the oven, thinking the doctor spoke of him, jumped out in a great fright, saying—“The man knows everything.”Then Doctor All-Wise showed the nobleman where the gold was hidden, but he said nothing as to who stole it. So he received a great reward from all parties, and became a very famous man.
A Blacksmith had a little Dog, which used to sleep when his master was at work, but was very wide awake indeed when it was time for meals. One day his master pretended to be disgusted at this, and when he had thrown him a bone as usual, he said, “What on earth is the good of a lazy cur like you? When I am hammering away at my anvil, you just curl up and go to sleep: but no sooner do I stop for a mouthful of food than you wake up and wag your tail to be fed.”Those who will not work deserve to starve.
A peasant farmer in reduced circumstances had a beautiful daughter, whom an old knight, the proprietor of the village, wanted to marry, and that even by compulsion. But the damsel disliked him, and her parents also refused to consent to the marriage. So the proprietor persecuted them in every way in his power, and so oppressed them with forced labour and ordered them to be beaten on the slightest occasion, that the poor farmer could hold out no longer, but determined to remove from the village with his whole family. In the cottage in which the farmer dwelt there was something continually grating behind the stove, but though they searched several times, and turned the seat constructed at the side of the stove upside down, yet were they unable to discover aught. But when, on the day of their departure, they were removing the rest of their goods, they heard a more and more articulate grating, and whilst they were impatiently listening, as the grating and scraping went on, out of the stove sprang a thin pale form, like a buried maiden.‘What the devil is this?’ cried the father. ‘For heaven’s sake!’ screamed the mother, and all the children after her. ‘I am no devil,’ said the thin pale maiden, ‘but I am your Poverty. You are now taking yourselves off hence, and you are bound to take me with you to your new abode.’The poor householder was no fool; he bethought himself a little, and neither seized nor throttled his Poverty, for she was so slight that he could have done nothing of any consequence to her, but he made the lowest possible reverence to her, and said: ‘Well, your gracious ladyship, if you are so well satisfied amongst us, then come with us; but, as you see, we are removing everything for ourselves, so help us to carry something, and we shall get off the quicker.’Poverty agreed to this, and wanted to take a couple of small vessels out of the house, but the householder distributed the small vessels among his children to remove, and said that there was still a block of wood in the yard which must also be taken away. Going out into the yard, he made a cut in the block from above with his axe. He then called Poverty, and politely requested her to help him remove the block. Poverty did not see on which side to lift the block, till, when the farmer pointed out the cleft to her, she put her long thin fingers in the chink. The farmer, pretending to lift the block on the other side, suddenly pulled his axe out of the cleft, and Poverty’s long thin fingers remained squeezed in the block, so that, being utterly unable to pull them out, she shrieked out immediately in what pain she was. But all in vain. The farmer removed all his goods as well as his children, quitted the cottage completely, and returned to the place no more.When the farmer settled in another village, things went with him so prosperously that ere long he was the richest man in the whole village; he married his daughter to a respectable and wealthy farmer’s son, twenty years old, and the whole family prospered. On the other hand, the proprietor of the first village, the oppressor of these poor people, having to assign vacant cottages to fresh tenants, came to inspect the cottage left vacant by the reduced farmer, who had refused to give him his daughter.Seeing Poverty beside the block complaining of the pain of her fingers, he took pity on the pale maiden, took her fingers out by means of a wedge, and set her completely free. From the time of her liberation the pale maiden never quitted the side of her liberator, and when, moreover, the devil lit a fire in the old stove, and the proprietor went dotty with love in his old age, he spent and spent, and ran through everything that he had.
Every night in Manila, when the bells of the city boom out the Angelus and lights begin to appear in the windows, the walks are filled with people hurrying toward the bay. In the streets hundreds of carriages, their lamps twinkling like fireflies, speed quickly by, as the cocheros urge on the little Filipino ponies. All are bound for the Luneta to hear the evening concert.A pretty place is the Luneta, the garden spot of the city. It is laid out in elliptical form and its green lawns are covered with benches for the people. A broad driveway surrounds it and hundreds of electric lights transform the night into day.A band stand is located at each end of the oval, and at night concerts are given by the military bands.Thousands of people gather to listen to the music. The bright uniforms of officers and men, the white dresses of American ladies, the black mantillas of the dark-eyed señoritas, and the gayly colored camisas of the Filipino girls show that the beauty and chivalry of Manila have assembled at the concert.The band plays many beautiful selections and finally closes with the “Star-Spangled Banner.” At once every head is bared and all stand at rigid attention till the glorious old song is finished. Then the musicians disperse, the carriages drive away, and people return to their homes.Many, however, linger on the benches or stroll along the beach, watching the water curling upon the shore. As the waves reach the land a soft light seems to spring from them and to break into thousands of tiny stars. Now and then some one idly skips a stone over the water. Where it touches, a little fountain of liquid fire springs upward, and the water ripples away in gleaming circles that, growing wider and wider, finally disappear in a flash of silvery light.Of all the beauties of the Islands, the water of Manila Bay at night ranks among the first. And those who ask why it flashes and glows in this way are told the story of the silver shower that saved the Pasig villages from the Moro Datto Bungtao.Hundreds of years ago messengers came hurrying from the south of Luzon with the news that the great Datto Bungtao, with many ships and men, was on his way to the island to burn the villages and carry the people away into slavery.Then great fear came into the hearts of the people, for the fierce Datto was the terror of the eastern seas, and all the southern islands were reported captured. Nevertheless, they resolved to defend their homes and save their people from shame and slavery.The news proved true, for the Moro chief landed a great army on the shore of the Bay of Batangas, and his fierce followers, with fire and sword, started north to lay waste the country.For a time they drove all before them, but soon Luzon was up in arms against them and great numbers of warriors hurried southward to battle with the Moros. All tribal feeling was forgotten and Tagalos, Macabebes, Igorrotes, and Pangasinanes hurried southward in thousands.The Moros presently found themselves checked by a large army of men determined to save their homes or to die fighting.Near the present town of Imus, in Cavite, a battle was fought and the Moros were defeated. They then retreated southward, but great numbers of Vicoles and Tinguianes rushed up from the southern part of the island and blocked their way.On the shore of the great Lake Bombon the final battle was fought. The Moros were killed to a man, and with great rejoicing the tribes returned north and south to their homes.But in the meantime Bungtao had not been idle. After landing his men, with his two hundred ships he set sail northward, never doubting that his army would sweep all before it. A typhoon carried his fleet far south into the China Sea, but he steered again for Luzon and three weeks later was in sight of Corregidor Island.He sailed down Manila Bay and drew up his fleet in front of the villages on the Pasig River, the present site of Manila. On the shore the people gathered in terror, for all the warriors had gone to fight the invading army, and only old men and women and children remained in the villages.Hastily they called a council and finally decided to send a messenger out to the Moro chief with all the gold and things of value they possessed, thinking thus to satisfy the fierce Datto and save their villages from harm.Accordingly the women gave their rings and bracelets and the men their bangles and chains. Everything of value was taken from the houses. Even the temples of prayer were stripped and all the ornaments taken. So great was the fear of the people that they even sent the gold statue of the great god Captan that was the pride of the tribe, whose members came miles to worship it.As Bungtao was preparing to land and attack the town with his sailors, the messenger in his canoe came alongside the ship and was at once taken before the Datto. Trembling with fear, the old man, with signs, begged for mercy for the people on the shore. He pointed to the presents and offered them to Bungtao. Then, placing the golden image of Captan at the feet of the Moro and bowing low, he again pleaded for the women and children.Bungtao laughed in scorn at the offer. On his island was gold enough to satisfy his people. He needed slaves to work in the fields, for it was beneath the dignity of such warriors as himself and his companions to labor. So he kicked the messenger from him and, with a curse, picked up the sacred golden image and threw it far over the water. Instantly the sky grew dark and blackest night covered the land. The messenger felt himself seized by invisible hands and carried to the shore.Then suddenly the heavens opened, and a shower of silver fire rained on the Moro boats. In vain the Moros tried to escape. The fire hemmed them in on every side. Many leaped from the burning ships into the boiling water. When the darkness cleared, boats and Moros had disappeared.Joyfully the people on the shore ran to the temple of worship to pray to Captan. What was their surprise to find the golden image of the god in its usual place, and around it the bracelets and rings offered to the Moros!When the warriors, a few days later, returned from their great victory in the south, they could hardly believe the story of the wonderful escape of their people. But at night, when they saw the heretofore dull waters dashing and breaking on the shore in crystals of silvery light, they knew that it was Captan who had saved their homes and families.The villages are a thing of the past. The modern city of Manila now stands on the banks of the Pasig.The nights here are very beautiful. The breeze sighs softly through the palm trees and the golden moon gleams on the waters of Manila Bay.On the shore the waves break gently and little balls of silver light go rushing up the beach. Wise men say that the water is full of phosphorus. But they have never heard the story of the Silver Shower.
We have just taken a little journey, and already we want to take a longer one. Whither? To Sparta, to Mycene, to Delphi? There are a hundred places at whose names the heart beats with the desire of travel. On horseback we go up the mountain paths, through brake and through brier. A single traveller makes an appearance like a whole caravan. He rides forward with his guide, a pack-horse carries trunks, a tent, and provisions, and a few armed soldiers follow as a guard. No inn with warm beds awaits him at the end of his tiring day’s journey: the tent is often his dwelling-place. In the great wild region the guide cooks him a pillan of rice, fowls, and curry for his supper. A thousand gnats swarm round the tent. It is a boisterous night, and to-morrow the way will lead across swollen streams; take care you are not washed away!What is your reward for undergoing these hardships? The fullest, richest reward. Nature manifests herself here in all her greatness; every spot is historical, and the eye and the thoughts are alike delighted. The poet may sing it, the painter portray it in rich pictures; but the air of reality which sinks deep into the soul of the spectator, and remains there, neither painter nor poet can produce.In many little sketches I have endeavoured to give an idea of a small part of Athens and its environs; but how colourless the picture seems! How little does it exhibit Greece, the mourning genius of beauty, whose greatness and whose sorrow the stranger never forgets!The lonely herdsman yonder on the hills would, perhaps, by a simple recital of an event in his life, better enlighten the stranger who wishes in a few features to behold the land of the Hellenes, than any picture could do.“Then,” says my Muse, “let him speak.” A custom, a good, peculiar custom, shall be the subject of the mountain shepherd’s tale. It is calledOur rude house was put together of clay; but the door-posts were columns of fluted marble found near the spot where the house was erected. The roof reached almost down to the ground. It was now dark brown and ugly, but it had originally consisted of blooming olive and fresh laurel branches brought from beyond the mountain. Around our dwelling was a narrow gorge, whose walls of rock rose steeply upwards, and showed naked and black, and round their summits often hung clouds, like white living figures. Never did I hear a singing bird there, never did the men there dance to the sound of the bagpipe; but the spot was sacred from the old times: even its name reminded of this, for it was called Delphi! The dark solemn mountains were all covered with snow; the highest, which gleamed the longest in the red light of evening, was Parnassus; the brook which rolled from it near our house was once sacred also. Now the ass sullies it with its feet, but the stream rolls on and on, and becomes clear again. How I can remember every spot in the deep holy solitude! In the midst of the hut a fire was kindled, and when the hot ashes lay there red and glowing, the bread was baked in them. When the snow was piled so high around our hut as almost to hide it, my mother appeared most cheerful: then she would hold my head between her hands, and sing the songs she never sang at other times, for the Turks our masters would not allow it. She sang:And when my mother sang thus, her eyes became moist, and on the long eyelashes hung a tear; but she hid it, and baked our black bread in the ashes. Then I would clench my fist and cry, “We will kill the Turks!” but she repeated from the song the words, “I will drive them across the islands into the deep sea. But before evening sank down the roebuck was slain, and before the night came the stag was hunted and dead.”For several days and nights we had been lonely in our hut, when my father came home. I knew he would bring me shells from the Gulf of Lepanto, or perhaps even a bright gleaming knife. This time he brought us a child, a little half-naked girl, that he brought under his sheepskin cloak. It was wrapped in a fur, and all that the little creature possessed when this was taken off, and she lay in my mother’s lap, were three silver coins, fastened in her dark hair. My father told us that the Turks had killed the child’s parents; and he told so much about them, that I dreamed of the Turks all night. He himself had been wounded, and my mother bound up his arm. The wound was deep, and the thick sheepskin was stiff with frozen blood. The little maiden was to be my sister. How radiantly beautiful she looked! Even my mother’s eyes were not more gentle than hers. Anastasia, as she was called, was to be my sister, because her father had been united to mine by the old custom which we still keep. They had sworn brotherhood in their youth, and chosen the most beautiful and virtuous girl in the neighbourhood to consecrate their bond of friendship. I often heard of the strange good custom.So now the little girl was my sister. She sat in my lap, and I brought her flowers and the feathers of the mountain birds: we drank together of the waters of Parnassus, and dwelt together for many a year under the laurel roof of the hut, while my mother sang winter after winter of the stag who wept red tears. But as yet I did not understand that it was my own countrymen whose many sorrows were mirrored in those tears.One day there came three Frankish men. Their dress was different from ours. They had tents and beds with them on their horses, and more than twenty Turks, all armed with swords and muskets, accompanied them; for they were friends of the pacha, and had letters from him commanding an escort for them. They only came to see our mountains, to ascend Parnassus amid the snow and the clouds, and to look at the strange black steep rock near our hut. They could not find room in it, nor could they endure the smoke that rolled along the ceiling and found its way out at the low door; therefore they pitched their tents on the small space outside our dwelling, roasted lambs and birds, and poured out strong sweet wine, of which the Turks were not allowed to partake.When they departed, I accompanied them for some distance, carrying my little sister Anastasia, wrapped in a goatskin, on my back. One of the Frankish gentlemen made me stand in front of a rock, and drew me, and her too, as we stood there, so that we looked like one creature. I never thought of it; but Anastasia and I were really one. She was always sitting in my lap or riding in the goatskin at my back; and when I dreamed, she appeared in my dreams.Two nights afterwards, other men, armed with knives and muskets, came into our tent. They were Albanians, brave men, my mother told me. They only stayed a short time. My sister Anastasia sat on the knee of one of them, and when they were gone she had not three, but only two silver coins in her hair. They wrapped tobacco in strips of paper and smoked it. I remember they were undecided as to the road they were to take.But they had to make a choice. They went, and my father went with them. Soon afterwards we heard the sound of firing. The noise was renewed, and soldiers rushed into our hut, and took my mother, and myself, and my sister Anastasia prisoners. They declared that the robbers had been entertained by us, and that my father had acted as the robbers’ guide, and therefore we must go with them. Presently I saw the corpses of the robbers brought in; I saw my father’s corpse too. I cried and cried till I fell asleep. When I awoke, we were in prison, but the room was not worse than ours in our own house. They gave me onions to eat, and musty wine poured from a tarry cask, but we had no better fare at home.How long we were kept prisoners I do not know; but many days and nights went by. When we were set free it was the time of the holy Easter feast. I carried Anastasia on my back, for my mother was ill, and could only move slowly, and it was a long way till we came down to the sea, to the Gulf of Lepanto. We went into a church that gleamed with pictures painted on a golden ground. They were pictures of angels, and very beautiful; but it seemed to me that our little Anastasia was just as beautiful. In the middle of the floor stood a coffin filled with roses. “The Lord Christ is pictured there in the form of a beautiful rose,” said my mother; and the priest announced, “Christ is risen!” All the people kissed each other: each one had a burning taper in his hand, and I received one myself, and so did little Anastasia. The bagpipes sounded, men danced hand in hand from the church, and outside the women were roasting the Easter lamb. We were invited to partake, and I sat by the fire; a boy, older than myself, put his arms round my neck, kissed me, and said, “Christ is risen!” and thus it was that for the first time I met Aphtanides.My mother could make fishermen’s nets, for which there was a good demand here in the bay, and we lived a long time by the side of the sea, the beautiful sea, that tasted like tears, and in its colours reminded me of the song of the stag that wept—for sometimes its waters were red, and sometimes green or blue.The summer came. The sun burned so hot that the leaves turned yellow on the trees. I thought of our cool mountains, and of the fresh water they contained; my mother, too, longed for them; and one evening we wandered home. What peace, what silence! We walked on through the thick thyme, still fragrant though the sun had scorched its leaves. Not a single herdsman did we meet, not one solitary hut did we pass. Everything was quiet and deserted; but a shooting star announced that in heaven there was yet life. I know not if the clear blue air gleamed with light of its own, or if the radiance came from the stars; but we could see the outlines of the mountains quite plainly. My mother lighted a fire, roasted some roots she had brought with her, and I and my little sister slept among the thyme, without fear of the ugly Smidraki, from whose throat fire spurts forth, or of the wolf and jackal; for my mother sat beside us, and I considered her presence protection enough for us.We reached our old home; but the hut was a heap of ruins, and a new one had to be built. A few women lent my mother their aid, and in a few days walls were raised, and covered with a new roof of olive branches.My mother made many bottle cases of bark and skins; I kept the little flock of the priests, and Anastasia and the little tortoises were my playmates.Once we had a visit from our beloved Aphtanides, who said he had greatly longed to see us, and who stayed with us two whole happy days.I have seen a bud on a rose-bush gradually unfold in days and weeks, till it became a rose, and hung there in its beauty, before I was aware how large and beautiful and red it had become; and the same thing I now saw in Anastasia. She was now a beautiful grown girl, and I had become a stout stripling. The wolf-skins that covered my mother’s and Anastasia’s bed, I had myself taken from wolves that had fallen beneath my shots.Years had gone by, when one evening Aphtanides came in, slender as a reed, strong and brown. He kissed us all, and had much to tell of the fortifications of Malta, of the great ocean, and of the marvellous sepulchres of Egypt. It sounded strange as a legend of the priests, and I looked up to him with a kind of veneration.“How much you know!” I exclaimed; “what wonders you can tell of!”“But you have told me the finest thing, after all,” he replied. “You told me of a thing that has never been out of my thoughts—of the good old custom of the bond of friendship, a custom I should like to follow. Brother, let you and I go to church, as your father and Anastasia’s went before us: your sister Anastasia is the most beautiful and most innocent of girls; she shall consecrate us! No people has such grand old customs as we Greeks.”Anastasia blushed like a young rose, and my mother kissed Aphtanides.A couple of miles from our house there, where loose earth lies on the hill, and a few scattered trees give a shelter, stood the little church; a silver lamp hung in front of the altar.I had put on my best clothes: the white fustanella fell in rich folds around my hips, the red jacket fitted tight and close, the tassel on my fez cap was silver, and in my girdle gleamed a knife and my pistols. Aphtanides was clad in the blue garb worn by Greek sailors; on his chest hung a silver plate with the figure of the Virgin Mary; his scarf was as costly as those worn by rich lords. Every one could see that we were about to go through a solemn ceremony. We stepped into the little simple church, where the evening sunlight, streaming through the door, gleamed on the burning lamp and the pictures on golden ground. We knelt down on the altar steps, and Anastasia came before us. A long white garment hung loose over her graceful form; on her white neck and bosom hung a chain, covered with old and new coins, forming a kind of collar. Her black hair was fastened in a knot, and confined by a head-dress made of silver and gold coins that had been found in an old temple. No Greek girl had more beautiful ornaments than she. Her countenance glowed, and her eyes were like two stars.We all three prayed silently; and then she said to us, “Will you be friends in life and in death?” “Yes,” we replied. “Will you, whatever may happen, remember this—my brother is a part of myself. My secret is his, my happiness is his. Self-sacrifice, patience—everything in me belongs to him as to me?” And we again answered, “Yes.”Then she joined our hands and kissed us on the forehead, and we again prayed silently. Then the priest came through the door near the altar, and blessed us all three; and a song, sung by the other holy men, sounded from behind the altar screen, and the bond of eternal friendship was concluded. When we rose, I saw my mother standing by the church door weeping heartily.How cheerful it was now, in our little hut, and by the springs of Delphi! On the evening before his departure, Aphtanides sat thoughtful with me on the declivity of a mountain; his arm was flung round my waist, and mine was round his neck: we spoke of the sorrows of Greece, and of the men whom the country could trust. Every thought of our souls lay clear before each of us, and I seized his hand.“One thing thou must still know, one thing that till now has been a secret between myself and Heaven. My whole soul is filled with love! with a love stronger than the love I bear to my mother and to thee!”“And whom do you love?” asked Aphtanides, and his face and neck grew red as fire.“I love Anastasia,” I replied—and his hand trembled in mine, and he became pale as a corpse. I saw it; I understood the cause; and I believe my hand trembled. I bent towards him, kissed his forehead, and whispered, “I have never spoken of it to her, and perhaps she does not love me. Brother, think of this: I have seen her daily; she has grown up beside me, and has become a part of my soul!”“And she shall be thine!” he exclaimed, “thine! I may not deceive thee, nor will I do so. I also love her; but to-morrow I depart. In a year we shall see each other once more, and then you will be married, will you not? I have a little gold of my own: it shall be thine. Thou must, thou shalt take it.”And we wandered home silently across the mountains. It was late in the evening when we stood at my mother’s door.Anastasia held the lamp upwards as we entered; my mother was not there. She gazed at Aphtanides with a beautifully mournful gaze. “To-morrow you are going from us,” she said: “I am very sorry for it.”“Sorry!” he repeated, and in his voice there seemed a trouble as great as the grief I myself felt. I could not speak, but he seized her hand and said, “Our brother yonder loves you, and he is dear to you, is he not? His very silence is a proof of his affection.”Anastasia trembled and burst into tears. Then I saw no one but her, thought of none but her, and threw my arms round her, and said, “I love thee!” She pressed her lips to mine, and flung her arms round my neck; but the lamp had fallen to the ground, and all was dark around us—dark as in the heart of poor Aphtanides.Before daybreak he rose, kissed us all, said farewell, and went away. He had given all his money to my mother for us. Anastasia was my betrothed, and a few days afterwards she became my wife.
Dschang Liang was a native of one of those states which had been destroyed by the Emperor Tsin Schi Huang. And Dschang Liang determined to do a deed for his dead king’s sake, and to that end gathered followers with whom to slay Tsin Schi Huang.Once Tsin Schi Huang was making a progress through the country. When he came to the plain of Bo Lang, Dschang Liang armed his people with iron maces in order to kill him. But Tsin Schi Huang always had two traveling coaches which were exactly alike in appearance. In one of them he sat himself, while in the other was seated another person. Dschang Liang and his followers met the decoy wagon, and Dschang Liang was forced to flee from the Emperor’s rage. He came to a ruined bridge. An icy wind was blowing, and the snowflakes were whirling through the air. There he met an old, old man wearing a black turban and a yellow gown. The old man let one of his shoes fall into the water, looked at Dschang Liang and said: “Fetch it out, little one!”Dschang Liang controlled himself, fetched out the shoe and brought it to the old man. The latter stretched out his foot to allow Dschang Liang to put it on, which he did in a respectful manner. This pleased the old man and he said: “Little one, something may be made of you! Come here to-morrow morning early, and I will have something for you.”The following morning at break of dawn, Dschang Liang appeared. But the old man was already there and reproached him: “You are too late. To-day I will tell you nothing. To-morrow you must come earlier.”So it went on for three days, and Dschang Liang’s patience was not exhausted. Then the old man was satisfied, brought forth the Book of Hidden Complements, and gave it to him. “You must read it,” said he, “and then you will be able to rule a great emperor. When your task is completed, seek me at the foot of the Gu Tschong Mountain. There you will find a yellow stone, and I will be by that yellow stone.”Dschang Liang took the book and aided the ancestor of the Han dynasty to conquer the empire. The emperor made him a count. From that time forward Dschang Liang ate no human food and concentrated in spirit. He kept company with the four whitebeards of the Shang Mountain, and with them shared the sunset roses in the clouds. Once he met two boys who were singing and dancing:“Green the garments you should wear, If to heaven’s gate you’d fare; There the Golden Mother greet, Bow before the Wood Lord’s feet!”When Dschang Liang heard this, he bowed before the youths, and said to his friends: “Those are angel children of the King Father of the East. The Golden Mother is the Queen of the West. The Lord of Wood is the King Father of the East. They are the two primal powers, the parents of all that is male and female, the root and fountain of heaven and earth, to whom all that has life is indebted for its creation and nourishment. The Lord of Wood is the master of all the male saints, the Golden Mother is the mistress of all the female saints. Whoever would gain immortality, must first greet the Golden Mother and then bow before the King Father. Then he may rise up to the three Pure Ones and stand in the presence of the Highest. The song of the angel children shows the manner in which the hidden knowledge may be acquired.”At about that time the emperor was induced to have some of his faithful servants slain. Then Dschang Liang left his service and went to the Gu Tschong Mountain. There he found the old man by the yellow stone, gained the hidden knowledge, returned home, and feigning illness loosed his soul from his body and disappeared.Later, when the rebellion of the “Red Eyebrows” broke out, his tomb was opened. But all that was found within it was a yellow stone. Dschang Liang was wandering with Laotsze in the invisible world.Once his grandson Dschang Dau Ling went to Kunlun Mountain, in order to visit the Queen Mother of the West. There he met Dschang Liang. Dschang Dau Ling gained power over demons and spirits, and became the first Taoist pope. And the secret of his power has been handed down in his family from generation to generation.Note: “In a yellow robe,” is an indication of Taoism: compare with No. 38. “The Book of Hidden Complements” (Yin Fu Ging). Compare with Lia Dsi, Introduction.
Once upon a time there was a goldsmith who lived in a certain village where the people were as bad and greedy, and covetous, as they could possibly be; however, in spite of his surroundings, he was fat and prosperous. He had only one friend whom he liked, and that was a cowherd, who looked after cattle for one of the farmers in the village. Every evening the goldsmith would walk across to the cowherd’s house and say: ‘Come, let’s go out for a walk!’Now the cowherd didn’t like walking in the evening, because, he said, he had been out grazing the cattle all day, and was glad to sit down when night came; but the goldsmith always worried him so that the poor man had to go against his will. This at last so annoyed him that he tried to think how he could pick a quarrel with the goldsmith, so that he should not beg him to walk with him any more. He asked another cowherd for advice, and he said the best thing he could do was to go across and kill the goldsmith’s wife, for then the goldsmith would be sure to regard him as an enemy; so, being a foolish person, and there being no laws in that country by which a man would be certainly punished for such a crime, the cowherd one evening took a big stick and went across to the goldsmith’s house when only Mrs. Goldsmith was at home, and banged her on the head so hard that she died then and there.When the goldsmith came back and found his wife dead he said nothing, but just took her outside into the dark lane and propped her up against the wall of his house, and then went into the courtyard and waited. Presently a rich stranger came along the lane, and seeing someone there, as he supposed, he said:‘Good-evening, friend! a fine night to- night!’ But the goldsmith’s wife said nothing. The man then repeated his words louder; but still there was no reply. A third time he shouted:‘Good-evening, friend! are you deaf?’ but the figure never replied. Then the stranger, being angry at what he thought very rude behaviour, picked up a big stone and threw it at Mrs. Goldsmith, crying:‘Let that teach you manners!’Instantly poor Mrs. Goldsmith tumbled over; and the stranger, horrified at seeing what he had done, was immediately seized by the goldsmith, who ran out screaming:‘Wretch! you have killed my wife! Oh, miserable one; we will have justice done to thee!’With many protestations and reproaches they wrangled together, the stranger entreating the goldsmith to say nothing and he would pay him handsomely to atone for the sad accident. At last the goldsmith quieted down, and agreed to accept one thousand gold pieces from the stranger, who immediately helped him to bury his poor wife, and then rushed off to the guest house, packed up his things and was off by daylight, lest the goldsmith should repent and accuse him as the murderer of his wife. Now it very soon appeared that the goldsmith had a lot of extra money, so that people began to ask questions, and finally demanded of him the reason for his sudden wealth.‘Oh,’ said he, ‘my wife died, and I sold her.’‘You sold your dead wife?’ cried the people.‘Yes,’ said the goldsmith.‘For how much?’‘A thousand gold pieces,’ replied the goldsmith.Instantly the villagers went away and each caught hold of his own wife and throttled her, and the next day they all went off to sell their dead wives. Many a weary mile did they tramp, but got nothing but hard words or laughter, or directions to the nearest cemetery, from people to whom they offered dead wives for sale. At last they perceived that they had been cheated somehow by that goldsmith. So off they rushed home, seized the unhappy man, and, without listening to his cries and entreaties, hurried him down to the river bank and flung him–plop!–into the deepest, weediest, and nastiest place they could find.‘That will teach him to play tricks on us,’ said they. ‘For as he can’t swim he’ll drown, and we sha’n’t have any more trouble with him!’Now the goldsmith really could not swim, and as soon as he was thrown into the deep river he sank below the surface; so his enemies went away believing that they had seen the last of him. But, in reality, he was carried down, half drowned, below the next bend in the river, where he fortunately came across a ‘snag’ floating in the water (a snag is, you know, a part of a tree or bush which floats very nearly under the surface of the water); and he held on to this snag, and by great good luck eventually came ashore some two or three miles down the river. At the place where he landed he came across a fine fat cow buffalo, and immediately he jumped on her back and rode home. When the village people saw him, they ran out in surprise, and said:‘Where on earth do you come from, and where did you get that buffalo?’‘Ah!’ said the goldsmith, ‘you little know what delightful adventures I have had! Why, down in that place in the river where you threw me in I found meadows, and trees, and fine pastures, and buffaloes, and all kinds of cattle. In fact, I could hardly tear myself away; but I thought that I must really let you all know about it.’‘Oh, oh!’ thought the greedy village people; ‘if there are buffaloes to be had for the taking we’ll go after some too.’ Encouraged by the goldsmith they nearly all ran off the very next morning to the river; and, in order that they might get down quickly to the beautiful place the goldsmith told them of, they tied great stones on to their feet and their necks, and one after another they jumped into the water as fast as the could, and were drowned. And whenever any one of them waved his hands about and struggled the goldsmith would cry out:‘Look! he’s beckoning the rest of you to come; he’s got a fine buffalo!’ And others who were doubtful would jump in, until not one was left. Then the cunning goldsmith went back and took all the village for himself, and became very rich indeed. But do you think he was happy? Not a bit. Lies never made a man happy yet. Truly, he got the better of a set of wicked and greedy people, but only by being wicked and greedy himself; and, as it turned out, when he got so rich he got very fat; and at last was so fat that he couldn’t move, and one day he got the apoplexy and died, and no one in the world cared the least bit.
In a far away Kingdom, the King and the Queen had a lovely little daughter… They loved her so much, that they were unable to refuse her anything. That means, they always gave her all she asked for, and ever since she was a baby all her desires were granted. No wonder, her first words she pronounced were not “mamma”, or “papa”, but “GIVE ME!”As years passed, she wanted all kinds of things, and every time she got what she wanted. She got so used to this, that whenever someone asked her to do something, her first words in reply were: “And if I do, what shall you give me?So, her parents gave and gave, until everything they had in the Kingdom became a possession of the Princess.One day, as the Queen was busy with her fine embroidery, she dropped her silver needle, and couldn’t find it on the carpet.“Daughter, dear!” she said, “will you please help me find my silver needle? I dropped it somewhere around, and I’m so afraid someone might step on it by chance.“Help you?” the Princess answered back “I may, but if I do, WHAT SHALL YOU GIVE ME?”“I have nothing left to give.” the Queen said “I have already given you all I had, and you took all: my jewels and my make ups, my clothes and my shoes, my flowers and my vases, my rooms and my gardens…everything… If we don’t count this old shabby dress I have on, I really have nothing more to give.”“It’s not quite true”, the Princess said. You still have your crown, and it’s time to give it to me!”“My crown!” the Queen exclaimed. “But it’s a Queen’s crown. You can not wear it. You are not a Queen yet, you are still a child!”“And what about you?” the Princess shouted. What a Queen are you, when you have nothing? You’re not better than a street beggar!”“That’s true.” the Queen sighed. “I don’t feel like a Queen any more. Maybe I really don’t need this crown. Take it.”The princess grabbed the crown from her mother’s head and rushed away to try it in front of the mirror.At this very moment, her father, the King, who was reading the morning paper on a rocking chair by the fireplace, all of a sudden dropped his eyeglasses. He could see nothing without their help and was very much afraid he could step on them if he tried to search around. So he called the Princess, and asked her for help.“No problem!” She said. I can see them right now, but before I tell you where they are, you must say WHAT SHALL YOU GIVE ME?”“I have nothing left to give.” The King said. “You know very well, that I’ve already given you everything. You even own my horses and my carriages, and the whole palace with all its towers is already -yours…”“O, yes!” the girl said. “You have one more thing left. Your crown! Have you forgotten about it?“My crown!” the King moaned.“Yes! Give it to me!”“But it’s the King’s crown! You can’t wear it. You are just a little girl!“And what a King do you think you are?” the Princess mocked. “You have nothing, but a crown. And it’s not very much, is it?”“You are right.” he sighed. ” I’m not a real King any more. I’m so poor now, and I really don’t need this crown. Take it.”The girl took her father’s crown, and said: “Here are your eyeglasses, right in front of your left toe. Just bend down and take them yourself. And be careful not to break them. You’ll need them to find your way out…The King bent down to take his glasses.Now, put them on your nose”, the Princess commanded. “Then go, find your wife. I want both of you out of my palace. I don’t need you around, since you have nothing left to give. And don’t worry about the Kingdom. Now I’ll be the King and the Queen here!”The King took his wife by the hand and they both left the palace in silence. They followed a narrow pathway, that lead them high in the mountains, where they found a lonely hut to dwell in and care for each other…Alone at last, the Princess stood in front of the mirror and enjoyed herself trying to place both crowns on her head one after the other. The Queen’s crown was a little too big and slipped to one side. So the girl took it off and replaced it with the King’s crown. This one was even bigger. It slid down her face, the ears, the neck, and stopped when it reached the shoulders.The Princess tried to take the crown off her head, but it wouldn’t slide back. She pushed and pooled, as if the crown had become smaller, or the girl’s head had grown bigger. The crown wouldn’t move an inch. After long and hard efforts, the girl realized she wouldn’t be able to take the crown off all by herself. But whom could she call for help, when she banished away her parents and all their servants had fled the kingdom long ago, because they didn’t like the way she treated her parents. The girl was really frightened. She could see nothing from within the heavy crown. She also realized she wouldn’t be able to eat and drink. In her despair, she rushed blindly from room to room, banging her crowned head in walls, doors and furniture, loudly yelling for help after each bang.At that very time, as if out of nowhere and old woman appeared and stopped by the gates of the deserted palace. Following the voice, the woman entered a room and saw a big crown moving violently around, supported by the thin shoulders of a little girl.“Help me! Help!” screamed the Princess as she heard footsteps in the room.“Stop shouting!” the old woman ordered. “And tell me what’s going on here.”“Take this crown off my head!” the girl commanded.“I might,” the old woman said. “But what shall you give me?“I’ll give you one of my mother’s dresses!”“Too little for such a tiresome job.” the woman laughed.“I’ll give you all her dresses, even the newest ones!”“I don’t need new dresses. I like the one I have.” the woman replied.“Then take all the jewels!” the girl whined.“I don’t use jewels.” said the woman.“Then take whatever you like!” the girl pleaded: “The carriages or the horses, the vases, or the furniture. Just choose something and I’ll give it to you!”“No! No! No!” The old woman sounded irritated. “I don’t need any one of those!”“Then, what is it you want?” the girl asked in a faint voice.“Are you really interested to hear it?” The woman teased.“Please!” the girl cried. “I want this crown off my head. Tell me what do you want!”“Well, if you’re serious about it, I’ll tell you: I want all!”“All?” the girl gulped.“Yes, all.” the woman confirmed. “Everything ! And all at once!”“But then… there will be nothing left for me… I will have nothing…”“Just like your mother and father. They also have nothing left, but I’m sure they’re happier now, where they are, than they were here, with a child like you.”“And what if I don’t agree?” the girl asked.“In that case, I’ll go my way and leave you here to spend the rest of your life all alone, with no one to talk to. With this big crown over your head, your face, eyes, ears, nose and mouth locked in a cage of solid gold and velvet. You will not be able to go anywhere and do anything at all. You will not be able even to sleep, eat or drink…But you will have your kingdom, and everything in it will be yours forever…”“Oh, no! Say no more!” The girl cried. “I don’t want to live like that. Please, take everything, but help me get rid of this awful crown!With just a snap of her fingers, the old woman, who was a fairy in disguise, made the crown jump off the child’s head.The girl looked around. She could now notice all the things she had broken, or turned upside down, while she rushed through the rooms being unable to see. Then she said: “Thank you very much. I think you opened my eyes twice today. You did not only help take off the crown that shadowed my sight, but you also made me able to see things one can only see with his heart. You may take all I have. I don’t need it any more… But, please, will you help me one more time?”“What is it you want now?” The Fairy asked.“Nothing, or maybe it’s too much?” the girl said doubtfully. “I want to see my dear mother and father again, just to tell them how sorry I am.”“That’s not impossible,” the Fairy said, “but you must be ready to meet them. This can not happen right away.”“What do I have to do?” The girl asked.“Come with me. I live in a hut deep in the forest. There is plenty of work to be done there. Too much, even for a Fairy like me… Come, and try to do your best. If you help me with my work, then I’ll help you too. .”“I’ll come wherever you take me, and do whatever you say.” The girl said. “… But what shall you do with this palace? It’s yours already.”“Oh, the palace?” The fairy smiled. I don’t think I need it, but since you say it’s mine, I’ll try to make it a better place.” And she snapped her fingers again.In an instant the palace turned into a beautiful garden, with lots of wonderful trees, blooming bushes, bright coloured flowers, sparkling springs and waterfalls, mirror like lakes, and many sweet creatures, running, flying and crawling happily around…Amidst the garden, a pretty white house stood, with flowers on the balconies and white lace curtains on the windows.“How beautiful everything is now!” The girl said. “What a pity we have to leave all this behind!”“You may come here again, but this can only happen if you find your parents and get their forgiveness. If that happens, the three of you may come and spend the rest of your life here.“I’m ready to do all that’s needed. Let’s go!” The girl urged.So they went to the fairy’s cottage. The Princess feared no work and soon became very skilled not only in cleaning, washing and sweeping, but also weaving, knitting and sewing, as well as caring about animals and plants in the fairy garden…In a short time the girl learned to do so many things, and did them so well, that the fairy was extremely pleased.Day after day the Princess was preparing for meeting her parents. She had knit a thick sweater for her father and a warm jacket for her mother. She also sewed a nice white shirt for him and a lovely light blue dress for her. The fairy liked them very much.“Now you are ready,” she said. “With such wonderful presents for your parents. Pack your presents, and follow this pathway through the forest and up in the mountains. Before dark you’ll have reached the little hut where your parents found shelter since they left the palace. The rest is up to you…The Princess reached the hut and found the door unlocked. There was no one in, but the girl lost no time waiting for her parents to come back. She cooked a tasty meal and baked fresh bread. In the meantime, she swept the floor, and cleaned the modest furniture. She also arranged her presents on the bedside. The girl had just time enough to finish everything, when she heard from outside the voices of the people she loved so much.When her father opened the door, he let her mother in, and for an instant they both stood at the threshold dumb with surprise. They couldn’t believe their eyes, seeing their daughter, the table served with hot meals and fresh homemade bread, and all the lovely presents she had brought.“Dear mother! Dear father!” The girl swallowed her tears and tried to smile: ” I love you so much! I’ve learned a lot since we parted… I promise I’ll never be so bad in the future. Please, will you forgive me?”“We love you too.” Said her mother. “And we forgive you. Don’t we, father?”“We’ve already forgotten all the bad things. Let’s leave them in the past.Then they hugged and kissed, and smiled, and laughed, and talked so much, that they nearly forgot to try the tasty meals on the table. When they finally did, they liked everything very much. They went to bed late that night, but got up very early the next morning. Mother and Father put on the fine clothes their daughter had made for them, and the happy family walked down the mountain pathway to visit the Fairy and thank her. The Fairy was very glad things were going on so well. She gave them the key for the pretty white house amidst the garden that was once their palace, where mother, father and their loving daughter lived happily ever after.
Once on a time, in the parts of Lindsey, there lived a wise woman. Some said she was a witch, but they said it in a whisper, lest she should overhear and do them a mischief, and truly it was not a thing one could be sure of, for she was never known to hurt any one, which, if she were a witch, she would have been sure to do. But she could tell you what your sickness was, and how to cure it with herbs, and she could mix rare possets that would drive the pain out of you in a twinkling; and she could advise you what to do if your cows were ill, or if you’d got into trouble, and tell the maids whether their sweethearts were likely to be faithful.But she was ill-pleased if folks questioned her too much or too long, and she sore misliked fools. A many came to her asking foolish things, as was their nature, and to them she never gave counsel—at least of a kind that could aid them much.Well, one day, as she sat at her door paring potatoes, over the stile and up the path came a tall lad with a long nose and goggle eyes and his hands in his pockets.“That’s a fool, if ever was one, and a fool’s luck in his face,” said the wise woman to herself with a nod of her head, and threw a potato skin over her left shoulder to keep off ill-chance.“Good-day, missis,” said the fool. “I be come to see thee.”“So thou art,” said the wise woman; “I see that. How’s all in thy folk this year?”“Oh, fairly,” answered he. “But they say I be a fool.”“Ay, so thou art,” nodded she, and threw away a bad potato. “I see that too. But wouldst o’ me? I keep no brains for sale.”“Well, see now. Mother says I’ll ne’er be wiser all my born days; but folks tell us thou canst do everything. Can’t thee teach me a bit, so they’ll think me a clever fellow at home?”“Hout-tout!” said the wise woman; “thou ‘rt a bigger fool than I thought. Nay, I can’t teach thee nought, lad; but I tell thee summat. Thou ‘lt be a fool all thy days till thou gets a coat o’ clay; and then thou ‘lt know more than me.”“Hi, missis; what sort of a coat’s that?” said he.“That’s none o’ my business,” answered she, “Thou ‘st got to find out that.”And she took up her potatoes and went into her house.The fool took off his cap and scratched his head.“It’s a queer kind of coat to look for, sure-ly,” said he, “I never heard of a coat o’ clay. But then I be a fool, that’s true.”So he walked on till he came to the drain near by, with just a pickle of water and a foot of mud in it.“Here’s muck,” said the fool, much pleased, and he got in and rolled in it spluttering. “Hi, yi!” said he—for he had his mouth full—”I’ve got a coat o’ clay now to be sure. I’ll go home and tell my mother I’m a wise man and not a fool any longer.” And he went on home.Presently he came to a cottage with a lass at the door.“Morning, fool,” said she; “hast thou been ducked in the horse-pond?”“Fool yourself,” said he, “the wise woman says I’ll know more ‘n she when I get a coat o’ clay, and here it is. Shall I marry thee, lass?”“Ay,” said she, for she thought she’d like a fool for a husband, “when shall it be?”“I’ll come and fetch thee when I’ve told my mother,” said the fool, and he gave her his lucky penny and went on.When he got home his mother was on the doorstep.“Mother, I ‘ve got a coat o’ clay,” said he.“Coat o’ muck,” said she; “and what of that?”“Wise woman said I’d know more than she when I got a coat o’ clay,” said he, “so I down in the drain and got one, and I’m not a fool any longer.”“Very good,” said his mother, “now thou canst get a wife.”“Ay,” said he, “I’m going to marry so-an’-so.”“What!” said his mother, “that lass? No, and that thou ‘lt not. She’s nought but a brat, with ne’er a cow or a cabbage o’ her own.”“But I gave her my luck penny,” said the fool.“Then thou ‘rt a bigger fool than ever, for all thy coat o’ clay!” said his mother, and banged the door in his face.“Dang it!” said the fool, and scratched his head, “that’s not the right sort o’ clay sure-ly.”So back he went to the highroad and sat down on the bank of the river close by, looking at the water, which was cool and clear.By-and-by he fell asleep, and before he knew what he was about—plump—he rolled off into the river with a splash, and scrambled out, dripping like a drowned rat.“Dear, dear,” said he, “I’d better go and get dry in the sun.” So up he went to the highroad, and lay down in the dust, rolling about so that the sun should get at him all over.Presently, when he sat up and looked down at himself, he found that the dust had caked into a sort of skin over his wet clothes till you could not see an inch of them, they were so well covered. “Hi, yi!” said he, “here’s a coat o’ clay ready made, and a fine one. See now, I’m a clever fellow this time sure-ly, for I’ve found what I wanted without looking for it! Wow, but it’s a fine feeling to be so smart!”And he sat and scratched his head, and thought about his own cleverness.But all of a sudden, round the corner came the squire on horseback, full gallop, as if the boggles were after him; but the fool had to jump, even though the squire pulled his horse back on his haunches.“What the dickens,” said the squire, “do you mean by lying in the middle of the road like that?”“Well, master,” said the fool, “I fell into the water and got wet, so I lay down in the road to get dry; and I lay down a fool an’ got up a wise man.”“How’s that?” said the squire.So the fool told him about the wise woman and the coat o’ clay.“Ah, ah!” laughed the squire, “whoever heard of a wise man lying in the middle of the highroad to be ridden over? Lad, take my word for it, you are a bigger fool than ever,” and he rode on laughing.“Dang it!” said the fool, as he scratched his head. “I’ve not got the right sort of coat yet, then.” And he choked and spluttered in the dust that the squire’s horse had raised.So on he went in a melancholy mood till he came to an inn, and the landlord at his door smoking.“Well, fool,” said he, “thou ‘rt fine and dirty.”“Ay,” said the fool, “I be dirty outside an’ dusty in, but it’s not the right thing yet.”And he told the landlord all about the wise woman and the coat o’ clay.“Hout-tout!” said the landlord, with a wink. “I know what’s wrong. Thou ‘st got a skin o’ dirt outside and all dry dust inside. Thou must moisten it, lad, with a good drink, and then thou ‘lt have a real all-over coat o’ clay.”“Hi,” said the fool, “that’s a good word.”So down he sat and began to drink. But it was wonderful how much liquor it took to moisten so much dust; and each time he got to the bottom of the pot he found he was still dry. At last he began to feel very merry and pleased with himself.“Hi, yi!” said he. “I’ve got a real coat o’ clay now outside and in—what a difference it do make, to be sure. I feel another man now—so smart.”And he told the landlord he was certainly a wise man now, though he couldn’t speak over-distinctly after drinking so much. So up he got, and thought he would go home and tell his mother she hadn’t a fool for a son any more.But just as he was trying to get through the inn-door which would scarcely keep still long enough for him to find it, up came the landlord and caught him by the sleeve.“See here, master,” said he, “thou hasn’t paid for thy score—where’s thy money?”“Haven’t any!” said the fool, and pulled out his pockets to show they were empty.“What!” said the landlord, and swore; “thou ‘st drunk all my liquor and haven’t got nought to pay for it with!”“Hi!” said the fool. “You told me to drink so as to get a coat o’ clay; but as I’m a wise man now I don’t mind helping thee along in the world a bit, for though I’m a smart fellow I’m not too proud to my friends.”“Wise man! smart fellow!” said the landlord, “and help me along, wilt thee? Dang it! thou ‘rt the biggest fool I ever saw, and it’s I’ll help thee first—out o’ this!”And he kicked him out of the door into the road and swore at him.“Hum,” said the fool, as he lay in the dust, “I’m not so wise as I thought. I guess I’ll go back to the wise woman and tell her there’s a screw loose somewhere.”So up he got and went along to her house, and found her sitting at the door.“So thou ‘rt come back,” said she, with a nod. “What dost thou want with me now?”So he sat down and told her how he’d tried to get a coat o’ clay, and he wasn’t any wiser for all of it.“No,” said the wise woman, “thou ‘rt a bigger fool than ever, my lad.”“So they all say,” sighed the fool; “but where can I get the right sort of coat o’ clay, then, missis?”“When thou ‘rt done with this world, and thy folk put thee in the ground,” said the wise woman. “That’s the only coat o’ clay as ‘ll make such as thee wise, lad. Born a fool, die a fool, and be a fool thy life long, and that’s the truth!”And she went into the house and shut the door.“Dang it,” said the fool. “I must tell my mother she was right after all, and that she’ll never have a wise man for a son!”And he went off home.
Once upon a time there was a man who had an only son. When the man died the son was left all alone in the world. There was not very much property—just a cat and a dog, a small piece of land, and a few orange trees. The boy gave the dog away to a neighbour and sold the land and the orange trees. Every bit of money he obtained from the sale he invested in a violin. He had longed for a violin all his life and now he wanted one more than ever. While his father had lived he could tell his thoughts to his father, but now there was none to tell them to except the violin. What his violin said back to him made the very sweetest music in the world.The boy went to hire out as shepherd to care for the sheep of the king, but he was told that the king already had plenty of shepherds and had no need of another. The boy took his violin which he had brought with him and hid himself in the deep forest. There he made sweet music with the violin. The shepherds who were near by guarding the king’s sheep heard the sweet strains, but they could not find out who was playing. The sheep, too, heard the music. Several of them left the flock and followed the sound of the music into the forest. They followed it until they reached the boy and the cat and the violin.The shepherds were greatly disturbed when they found out how their sheep were straying away into the forest. They went after them to bring them back, but they could find no trace of them. Sometimes it would seem that they were quite near to the place from which the music came, but when they hurried in that direction they would hear the strains of music coming from a distant point in the opposite direction. They were afraid of getting lost themselves so they gave up in despair.When the boy saw how the sheep came to hear his music he was very happy. His music was no longer the sad sweet sound it had been when he was lonely. It became gayer and gayer. After a while it became so gay that the cat began to dance. When the sheep saw the cat dancing they began to dance, too.Soon a company of monkeys passed that way and heard the sound of the music. They began dancing immediately. They made such a chattering that they almost drowned the music. The boy threatened to stop playing if they could not be happy without being so noisy. After that the monkeys chattered less.After a while a tapir heard the jolly sound. Immediately his threetoed hind feet and fourtoed front feet began to dance. He just couldn’t keep them from dancing; so he, too, joined the procession of boy, cat, sheep, and monkeys.Next the armadillo heard the music. In spite of his heavy armour he had to dance too. Then a herd of small deer joined the company. Then the anteater danced along with them. The wild cat and the tiger came, too. The sheep and the deer were terribly frightened, but they kept dancing on just the same. The tiger and wild cat were so happy dancing that they never noticed them at all. The big snakes curled their huge bodies about the tree trunks and wished that they, too, had feet with which to dance. The birds tried to dance, but they could not use their feet well enough and had to give it up and keep flying. Every beast of the forests and jungles which had feet with which to dance came and joined the gay procession.The jolly company wandered on and on until finally they came to the high wall which surrounds the land of the giants. The enormous giant who stood on the wall as guard laughed so hard that he almost fell off the wall. He took them to the king at once. The king laughed so hard that he almost fell off his throne. His laugh shook the earth. The earth had never before been shaken at the laugh of the king of the giants, though it had often heard his angry voice in the thunder. The people did not know what to make of it.Now it happened that the king of the land of giants had a beautiful giantess daughter who never laughed. She remained sad all the time. The king had offered half his kingdom to the one who could make her laugh, and all the giants had done their very funniest tricks for her. Never once had they brought even a tiny little smile to her lovely face. “If my daughter can keep from laughing when she sees this funny sight I’ll give up in despair and eat my hat,” said the king of the land of giants, as he saw the jolly little figure playing upon the violin and the assembly of cat, sheep, monkeys and everything else dancing to the gay music. If the giant king had known how to dance he would have danced himself, but it was fortunate for the people of the earth that he did not know how. If he had, there is no knowing what might have happened to the earth.As it was, he took the little band into his daughter’s palace where she sat surrounded by her servants. Her lovely face was as sad as sad could be. When she saw the funny sight her expression changed. The happy smile which the king of the land of giants had always wanted to see played about her beautiful lips. A gay laugh was heard for the first time in all her life. The king of the land of giants was so happy that he grew a league in height and nobody knows how much he gained in weight. “You shall have half my kingdom,” he said to the boy, “just as I promised if any one made my daughter laugh.”The boy from that time on reigned over half of the kingdom of giants as prince of the land. He never had the least bit of difficulty in preserving his authority, for the biggest giants would at once obey his slightest request if he played on his violin to them. The beasts stayed in the land of the giants so long that they grew into giant beasts, but the boy and his violin always remained just as they were when they entered the land.
“Boys,” said Mrs. Howard one morning, looking up from a letter she was reading, “I have had a letter from your grandmamma. She writes that she is returning to England shortly.”The boys went on with their breakfast without showing any great amount of interest in this piece of news, for they had never seen their grandmother, and therefore could not very well be expected to show any affection for her.Now Mrs. Howard, the mother of two of the boys and aunt to the third little fellow, was a widow and very poor, and often found it a hard task to provide for her “three boys,” as she called them, for, having adopted her little orphan nephew, she always treated him as her own son. She had sometimes thought it strange that old Mrs. Howard should not have offered to provide for Leslie herself but she had never done so, and at last Mrs. Howard had ceased to expect it. But now, right at the end of her letter, Grandmamma Howard wrote:—“I have been thinking that perhaps it would come a little hard on you to support not only your own two boys, but poor Alice’s son, and so, on my return to England, I propose, if you are willing, to adopt one of them, for I am a lonely old woman and shall be glad of a young face about me again.”After thinking the matter over, Mrs. Howard decided she would say nothing about their grandmother’s intention to the boys, as she thought that it was just possible she might change her mind again.Time passed on, and winter set in, and full of the delights of skating, the boys forgot all about the expected arrival of their grandmother.During the Christmas holidays the boys one morning started off to Broome Meadow for a good day’s skating on the pond there. They carried their dinner with them, and were told to be sure and be home before dark.As they ran along the frosty road they came suddenly upon a poor old woman, so suddenly that Leslie ran right up against her before he could stop himself. The old woman grumbled about “lazy, selfish boys, only thinking of their own pleasure, and not caring what happened to a poor old woman!”But Leslie stopped at once and apologized, in his polite little way, for his carelessness.“I am sorry,” he said. “I hope I did not hurt you; and you have such heavy parcels to carry too. Won’t you let me help you?”“Oh! come on, Leslie,” said his cousins; “we shall never get to the pond at this rate!”“Yes, go on,” said the old woman sharply; “your skating is of a great deal more importance than an old woman, eh?”But Leslie’s only answer was to take the parcels and trudge merrily along beside his companion.On the way to her cottage the old woman asked him all sorts of questions about himself and his cousins, and then, having reached her cottage, dismissed him with scarcely a “thank you” for the trouble he had taken. But Leslie did not take it much to heart.He raced along, trying his hardest to overtake his cousins before they reached the pond, and was soon skimming about with the rest of them.Squire Leaholme, in whose grounds the boys were skating, afterwards came down to the pond to watch the fun, and, being a kind-hearted old gentleman, offered to give a prize of a new pair of skates to the boy who should win the greatest number of races.As it was getting late, it was arranged that the racing should come off on the following day, and the Squire invited all the boys who took part in it, to come up to his house to a substantial tea, after the fun was over.How delighted Leslie was, for he was a first-rate skater, and he did so want a new pair of skates!But the Squire’s skates were not to be won by him, for on the following day as he and his cousins were on their way to the pond, they came across the queer old woman whom they had met on the previous day.She was sitting on the ground, and seemed to be in great pain. The boys stopped to ask what ailed her, and she told them that she had slipped and twisted her foot, and was afraid that her ankle was sprained, for she could not bear to put it to the ground.“You musn’t sit here in the cold,” said Leslie; “come, try and get up, and I will help you home.”“Oh! Leslie,” cried both his cousins, “don’t go. You will be late for the races, and lose your chance of the prize.”Poor Leslie! He turned first red, then white, and then said, in a husky tone of voice—“Never mind—you go on without me.”“You’re a good laddie,” said the old woman. “Will you be very sorry to miss the fun?”Leslie muttered something about not minding much, and then the brave little fellow set himself to help the poor old woman home, as gently and tenderly as he could.She would not let him come in with her, but told him to run off as quickly as he could, and perhaps after all, he would not be too late for the skating. But Leslie could not bear to leave her alone and in pain, so he decided to run home and fetch his Aunt.When Mrs. Howard arrived at the cottage, you can think how surprised she was to find that Leslie’s “poor old woman” was none other than Grandmamma Howard herself, who wishing to find out the real characters of her grandsons, had chosen to come in this disguise to the little village where they lived.You will easily guess which of the three boys Grandmamma chose to be her little companion. And oh! what a lovely Grandmamma she was, as not only Leslie, but his cousins too, found out. She always seemed to know exactly what a boy wanted, and still better, to give it to him.Walter and Stanley often felt terribly ashamed of the selfish manner in which they had behaved, and wished they were more like Leslie.But Grandmamma told them that it was “never too late to mend,” and they took her advice, and I am quite sure that at the present moment if they were to meet a poor old woman in distress by the roadside, they would not pass her by, as they once did Grandmamma Howard.
Who is Santa Klaas? How did he get his name? Where does he live? Did you ever see him?These are questions, often asked of the storyteller, by little folks.Before Santa Klaas came into the Netherlands, that is, to Belgium and Holland, he was called by many names, in the different countries in which he lived, and where he visited. Some people say he was born in Myra, many hundred years ago before the Dutch had a dyke or a windmill, or waffles, or wooden shoes. Others tell us how, in time of famine, the good saint found the bodies of three little boys, pickled in a tub, at a market for sale, and to be eaten up. They had been salted down to keep till sold. The kind gentleman and saint, whose name was Nicholas, restored these three children to life. It is said that once he lost his temper, and struck with his fist a gentleman named Arius; but the story-teller does not believe this, for he thinks it is a fib, made up long afterward. How could a saint lose his temper so?Another story they tell of this same Nicholas was this. There were three lovely maidens, whose father had lost all his money. They wanted husbands very badly, but had no money to buy fine clothes to get married in. He took pity on both their future husbands and themselves. So he came to the window, and left three bags of gold, one after the other. Thus these three real girls all got real husbands, just as the novels tell us of the imaginary ones. They lived happily ever afterward, and never scolded their husbands.By and by, men who were goldsmiths, bankers or pawnbrokers, made a sign of these three bags of gold, in the shape of balls. Now they hang them over their shop doors, two above one. This means “two to one, you will never get it again”—when you put your ring, furs, or clothes, or watch, or spoons, in pawn.It is ridiculous how many stories they do tell of this good man, Nicholas, who was said to be what they call a bishop, or inspector, who goes around seeing that things are done properly in the churches. It was because the Reverend Mr. Nicholas had to travel about a good deal, that the sailors and travellers built temples and churches in his honor. To travel, one must have a ship on the sea and a horse on the land, or a reindeer up in the cold north; though now, it is said, he comes to Holland in a steamship, and uses an automobile.On Santa Klaas eve, each of the Dutch children sets out in the chimney his wooden shoe. Into it, he puts a whisp of hay, to feed the traveller’s horse. When St. Nicholas first came to Holland, he arrived in a sailing ship from Spain and rode on a horse. Now he arrives in a big steamer, made of steel. Perhaps he will come in the future by aeroplane. To fill all the shoes and stockings, the good saint must have an animal to ride. Now the fast white horse, named Sleipnir, was ready for him, and on Sleipnir’s back he made his journeys.How was Santa Klaas dressed?His clothes were those of a bishop. He wore a red coat and his cap, higher than a turban and called a mitre, was split along two sides and pointed at the top. In his hands, he held a crozier, which was a staff borrowed from shepherds, who tended sheep; and with the crozier he helped the lambs over rough places; but the crozier of Santa Klaas was tipped with gold. He had white hair and rosy cheeks. For an old man, he was very active, but his heart and feelings never got to be one day older than a boy’s, for these began when mother love was born and father’s care was first in the world, but it never grows old.When Santa Klaas travelled up north to Norway and into the icy cold regions, where there were sleighs and reindeer, he changed his clothes. Instead of his red robe, he wears a jacket, much shorter and trimmed with ermine, white as snow. Taking off his mitre, he wears a cap of fur also, and has laid aside his crozier. In the snow, wheels are no good, and runners are the best for swift travel. So, instead of his white horse and a wagon, he drives in a sleigh, drawn by two stags with large horns. In every country, he puts into the children’s stockings hung up, or shoes set in the fireplace, something which they like. In Greenland, for example, he gives the little folks seal blubber, and fish hooks. So his presents are not the same in every country. However, for naughty boys and girls everywhere, instead of filling shoes and stockings, he may leave a switch, or pass them by empty.When Santa Klaas travels, he always brings back good things. Now when he first came to New Netherland in America, what did he find to take back to Holland?Well, it was here, on our continent, that he found corn, potatoes, pumpkins, maple sugar, and something to put in pipes to smoke; besides strange birds and animals, such as turkeys and raccoons, in addition to many new flowers. What may be called a weed, like the mullein, for example, is considered very pretty in Europe, where they did not have such things. There it is called the American Velvet Plant, or the King’s Candlestick.But, better than all, Santa Klaas found a negro boy, Pete, who became one of the most faithful of his helpers. At Utrecht, in Holland, the students of the University give, every year, a pageant representing Santa Klaas on his white horse, with Black Pete, who is always on hand and very busy. Black Pete’s father brought peanuts from Africa to America, and sometimes Santa Klaas drops a bagful of these, as a great curiosity, into the shoes of the Dutch young folks.Santa Klaas was kept very busy visiting the homes and the public schools in New Netherland; for in these schools all the children, girls as well as boys, and not boys only, received a free education. In later visits he heard of Captain Kidd and his fellow pirates, who wore striped shirts and red caps, and had pigtails of hair, tied in eel skins, and hanging down their backs. These fellows wore earrings and stuck pistols in their belts and daggers at their sides. Instead of getting their gold honestly, and giving it to the poor, or making presents to the children, the pirates robbed ships. Then, as ’twas said, they buried their treasure. Lunatics and boys that read too many novels, have ever since been digging in the land to find Captain Kidd’s gold.Santa Klaas does not like such people. Moreover, he was just as good to the poor slaves, as to white children. So the colored people loved the good saint also. Their pickaninnies always hung up their stockings on the evening of December sixth.Santa Klaas filled the souls of the people in New Netherland so full of his own spirit, that now children all over the United States, and those of Americans living in other countries, hang up their stockings and look for a visit from him.In Holland, Black Pete was very loyal and true to his master, carrying not only the boxes and bundles of presents for the good children, but also the switches for bad boys and girls. Between the piles of pretty things to surprise good children, on one side, and the boxes of birch and rattan, the straps and hard hair-brush backs for naughty youngsters, Pete holds the horn of plenty. In this are dolls, boats, trumpets, drums, balls, toy houses, flags, the animals in Noah’s Ark, building blocks, toy castles and battleships, story and picture books, little locomotives, cars, trains, automobiles, aeroplanes, rocking horses, windmills, besides cookies, candies, marbles, tops, fans, lace, and more nice things than one can count.Pete also takes care of the horse of Santa Klaas, named Sleipnir, which goes so fast that, in our day, the torpedo and submarine U-boats are named after him. This wonderful animal used to have eight feet, for swiftness. That was when Woden rode him, but, in course of time, four of his legs dropped off, so that the horse of Santa Klaas looks less like a centipede and more like other horses. Whenever Santa Klaas walks, Pete has to go on foot also, even though the chests full of presents for the children are very heavy and Pete has to carry them.Santa Klaas cares nothing about rich girls or poor girls, for all the kinds of boys he knows about or thinks of are good boys and bad boys. A youngster caught stealing jam out of the closet, or cookies from the kitchen, or girls lifting lumps of sugar out of the sugar bowl, or eating too much fudge, or that are mean, stingy, selfish, or have bad tempers, are considered naughty and more worthy of the switch than of presents. So are the boys who attend Sunday School for a few weeks before Christmas, and then do not come any more till next December. These Santa Klaas turns over to Pete, to be well thrashed.In Holland, Pete still keeps on the old dress of the time of New Netherland. He wears a short jacket, with wide striped trousers, in several bright colors, shoes strapped on his feet, a red cap and a ruff around his neck. Sometimes he catches bad boys, to put them in a bag for a half hour, to scare them; or, he shuts them up in a dark closet, or sends them to bed without any supper. Or, instead of allowing them eleven buckwheat cakes at breakfast, he makes them stop at five. When Santa Klaas leaves Holland to go back to Spain, or elsewhere, Pete takes care of the nag Sleipnir, and hides himself until Santa Klaas comes again next year.The story-teller knows where Santa Klaas lives, but he won’t tell.
There lived once a great queen, in whose garden were found at all seasons the most splendid flowers, and from every land in the world. She specially loved roses, and therefore she possessed the most beautiful varieties of this flower, from the wild hedge-rose, with its apple-scented leaves, to the splendid Provence rose. They grew near the shelter of the walls, wound themselves round columns and window-frames, crept along passages and over the ceilings of the halls. They were of every fragrance and color.But care and sorrow dwelt within these halls; the queen lay upon a sick bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. “There is still one thing that could save her,” said one of the wisest among them. “Bring her the loveliest rose in the world; one which exhibits the purest and brightest love, and if it is brought to her before her eyes close, she will not die.”Then from all parts came those who brought roses that bloomed in every garden, but they were not the right sort. The flower must be one from the garden of love; but which of the roses there showed forth the highest and purest love? The poets sang of this rose, the loveliest in the world, and each named one which he considered worthy of that title; and intelligence of what was required was sent far and wide to every heart that beat with love; to every class, age, and condition.“No one has yet named the flower,” said the wise man. “No one has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor. It is not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a lonely chamber.”“I know where it blooms,” said a happy mother, who came with her lovely child to the bedside of the queen. “I know where the loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy; when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with childlike affection.”“This is a lovely rose,” said the wise man; “but there is one still more lovely.”“Yes, one far more lovely,” said one of the women. “I have seen it, and a loftier and purer rose does not bloom. But it was white, like the leaves of a blush-rose. I saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown, and through the long, dreary night, she carried her sick child in her arms. She wept over it, kissed it, and prayed for it as only a mother can pray in that hour of her anguish.”“Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief, but it is not the one we seek.”“No; the loveliest rose in the world I saw at the Lord’s table,” said the good old bishop. “I saw it shine as if an angel’s face had appeared. A young maiden knelt at the altar, and renewed the vows made at her baptism; and there were white roses and red roses on the blushing cheeks of that young girl. She looked up to heaven with all the purity and love of her young spirit, in all the expression of the highest and purest love.”“May she be blessed!” said the wise man: “but no one has yet named the loveliest rose in the world.”Then there came into the room a child—the queen’s little son. Tears stood in his eyes, and glistened on his cheeks; he carried a great book and the binding was of velvet, with silver clasps. “Mother,” cried the little boy; “only hear what I have read.” And the child seated himself by the bedside, and read from the book of Him who suffered death on the cross to save all men, even who are yet unborn. He read, “Greater love hath no man than this,” and as he read a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes became so enlightened and clear, that she saw from the leaves of the book a lovely rose spring forth, a type of Him who shed His blood on the cross.“I see it,” she said. “He who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die.”
An aged count once lived in Switzerland, who had an only son, but he was stupid, and could learn nothing. Then said the father, “Hark thee, my son, I can get nothing into thy head, let me try as I will. Thou must go from hence, I will give thee into the care of a celebrated master, who shall see what he can do with thee.” The youth was sent into a strange town, and remained a whole year with the master. At the end of this time, he came home again, and his father asked, “Now, my son, what hast thou learnt?” “Father, I have learnt what the dogs say when they bark.” “Lord have mercy on us!” cried the father; “is that all thou hast learnt? I will send thee into another town, to another master.” The youth was taken thither, and stayed a year with this master likewise. When he came back the father again asked, “My son, what hast thou learnt?” He answered, “Father, I have learnt what the birds say.” Then the father fell into a rage and said, “Oh, thou lost man, thou hast spent the precious time and learnt nothing; art thou not ashamed to appear before mine eyes? I will send thee to a third master, but if thou learnest nothing this time also, I will no longer be thy father.” The youth remained a whole year with the third master also, and when he came home again, and his father inquired, “My son, what hast thou learnt?” he answered, “Dear father, I have this year learnt what the frogs croak.” Then the father fell into the most furious anger, sprang up, called his people thither, and said, “This man is no longer my son, I drive him forth, and command you to take him out into the forest, and kill him.” They took him forth, but when they should have killed him, they could not do it for pity, and let him go, and they cut the eyes and the tongue out of a deer that they might carry them to the old man as a token.The youth wandered on, and after some time came to a fortress where he begged for a night’s lodging. “Yes,” said the lord of the castle, “if thou wilt pass the night down there in the old tower, go thither; but I warn thee, it is at the peril of thy life, for it is full of wild dogs, which bark and howl without stopping, and at certain hours a man has to be given to them, whom they at once devour.” The whole district was in sorrow and dismay because of them, and yet no one could do anything to stop this. The youth, however, was without fear, and said, “Just let me go down to the barking dogs, and give me something that I can throw to them; they will do nothing to harm me.” As he himself would have it so, they gave him some food for the wild animals, and led him down to the tower. When he went inside, the dogs did not bark at him, but wagged their tails quite amicably around him, ate what he set before them, and did not hurt one hair of his head. Next morning, to the astonishment of every one, he came out again safe and unharmed, and said to the lord of the castle, “The dogs have revealed to me, in their own language, why they dwell there, and bring evil on the land. They are bewitched, and are obliged to watch over a great treasure which is below in the tower, and they can have no rest until it is taken away, and I have likewise learnt, from their discourse, how that is to be done.” Then all who heard this rejoiced, and the lord of the castle said he would adopt him as a son if he accomplished it successfully. He went down again, and as he knew what he had to do, he did it thoroughly, and brought a chest full of gold out with him. The howling of the wild dogs was henceforth heard no more; they had disappeared, and the country was freed from the trouble.After some time he took it into his head that he would travel to Rome. On the way he passed by a marsh, in which a number of frogs were sitting croaking. He listened to them, and when he became aware of what they were saying, he grew very thoughtful and sad. At last he arrived in Rome, where the Pope had just died, and there was great difficulty as to whom they should appoint as his successor. They at length agreed that the person should be chosen as pope who should be distinguished by some divine and miraculous token. And just as that was decided on, the young count entered into the church, and suddenly two snow-white doves flew on his shoulders and remained sitting there. The ecclesiastics recognized therein the token from above, and asked him on the spot if he would be pope. He was undecided, and knew not if he were worthy of this, but the doves counseled him to do it, and at length he said yes. Then was he anointed and consecrated, and thus was fulfilled what he had heard from the frogs on his way, which had so affected him, that he was to be his Holiness the Pope. Then he had to sing a mass, and did not know one word of it, but the two doves sat continually on his shoulders, and said it all in his ear.
There is a clay bank on Little Neck, Long Island, where metallic nodules are now and then exposed by rain. Rustics declare them to be silver, and account for their crumbling on the theory that the metal is under a curse. A century ago the Montauks mined it, digging over enough soil to unearth these pellets now and again, and exchanging them at the nearest settlements for tobacco and rum. The seeming abundance of these lumps of silver aroused the cupidity of one Gardiner, a dweller in the central wilderness of the island, but none of the Indians would reveal the source of their treasure. One day Gardiner succeeded in getting an old chief so tipsy that, without realizing what he was doing, he led the white man to the clay bed and showed him the metallic spots glittering in the sun. With a cry of delight Gardiner sprang forward and tore at the earth with his fingers, while the Indian stood by laughing at his eagerness.Presently a shade crossed the white man’s face, for he thought that this vast treasure would have to be shared by others. It was too much to endure. He wanted all. He would be the richest man on earth. Stealing behind the Indian as he stood swaying and chuckling, he wrenched the hatchet from his belt and clove his skull at a blow. Then, dragging the body to a thicket and hiding it under stones and leaves, he hurried to his house for cart and pick and shovel, and returning with speed he dug out a half ton of the silver before sunset. The cart was loaded, and he set homeward, trembling with excitement and conjuring bright visions for his future, when a wailing sound from a thicket made him halt and turn pale. Noiselessly a figure glided from the bush. It was the Indian he had killed. The form approached the treasure, flung up its arm, uttered a few guttural words; then a rising wind seemed to lift it from the ground and it drifted toward the Sound, fading like a cloud as it receded.Full of misgiving, Gardiner drove to his home, and, by light of a lantern, transferred his treasure to his cellar. Was it the dulness of the candle that made the metal look so black? After a night of feverish tossing on his bed he arose and went to the cellar to gloat upon his wealth. The light of dawn fell on a heap of gray dust, a few brassy looking particles showing here and there. The curse of the ghost had been of power and the silver was silver no more. Mineralogists say that the nodules are iron pyrites. Perhaps so; but old residents know that they used to be silver.
The Story of a King and His FateMaria-of-the-ForestOnce upon a time there was a young king who went into the deep forest on a hunting expedition. He and his favorite page became separated from the rest of the party and soon they realized that they were lost. As night approached they found the rude hut of a charcoal burner and begged for permission to pass the night there. They were received most hospitably.Just at the hour of midnight the king was awakened from his sleep by a voice. This is what it said:“Here in this hut is born to-nightThe maiden of your fate:You can’t escape your lot, young king;Your fate for you will wait.‘Tis fate—’tis fate—’tis fate.”The king turned over on his pillow and tried to sleep, but the strange voice kept ringing in his ears. He rose early.As soon as he saw the charcoal burner the man said: “A baby daughter was born to me last night.”“At what time?” asked the king.“It was just midnight,” replied the charcoal burner.The king awakened his page and told him what had happened.“I refuse to wed any maid born in this poor hut,” he said. “You must help me to escape this fate.”“What can I do about it?” asked the page, yawning.“You must steal this babe this very day and put it to death,” said the king sternly.The page did not dare refuse, and easily obtained possession of the baby when no one was looking. He carried her away into the deep forest, but he did not have the heart to put an innocent babe to death. He left her in a hollow tree, wrapped up in the bright red sash he wore.When he had returned to the king he confessed that he had been too tender-hearted to slay the baby. The king was angry.“Take me to the baby,” he said. “I’ll do the deed myself.”Though they searched long and faithfully they were unable to find the hollow tree where the baby had been left. They, of course, did not wish to return to the hut of the charcoal burner, and at length they found their way out of the deep forest.“No one will ever discover that baby if I could not find it myself! She will soon die without food,” said the page.The king agreed that it was quite impossible for the babe to escape death, but he could not forget the strange voice which had said:“Here in this hut is born to-nightThe maiden of your fate:You can’t escape your lot, young king;Your fate for you will wait.‘Tis fate—’tis fate—’tis fate.”Now it happened that very day that a woodcutter was working in the forest. Suddenly he heard what sounded like the cry of a baby.“There can’t be a child here in the deep forest,” he said to himself and went on with his work.The cry continued, however, and it sounded very near, almost under the woodcutter’s feet. He looked into the hollow log and there he found a dimpled baby girl wrapped in a bright red sash.“Poor little thing! Her own mother has abandoned her. My good wife will be a mother to her,” he said.The woodcutter’s wife had no children of her own and received the baby gladly. She named her Maria-of-the-forest. As the days flew by and the babe thrived under her care, she could not have loved her more had she been her own child.The weeks and months passed and soon the little Maria-of-the-forest had grown into a lovely little girl five years old. Her kind foster mother made a bonnet for her out of the bright red sash which she had found wrapped about her the first time she saw her. It made Maria’s dark eyes look even brighter than before.Now it happened that the king and his page were again hunting in the forest and passed by the house of the wood cutter. The page noticed the pretty little girl and the red bonnet she wore. He called her to him and examined it carefully.“There can be no doubt that material is from my own red sash,” he confessed to the king. “This woodcutter’s daughter could have such a bonnet as this in no other way.”The king bade him make inquiries about the child and soon the page found out that the little maid was in truth the baby he had left in the hollow tree. The king ordered him again to steal her. This time the king plotted her death by drowning. He had a box made for her, put her in it, and threw her into the sea with his own hand.“I refuse to wed any girl brought up in a woodcutter’s hut,” he raged. “I’ll escape that fate.”Nevertheless he could not escape the memory of the strange voice which had said:“Here in this hut is born to-nightThe maiden of your fate:You can’t escape your lot, young king;Your fate for you will wait.‘Tis fate—’tis fate—’tis fate.”It was most annoying to remember it.It happened soon after that a ship encountered the box floating upon the sea. The sailors rescued it and opened it with interest. Inside they were surprised to find a pretty little dark-eyed girl with a bright red bonnet on her head. She could not tell them where she had come from but she said her name was Maria-of-the-forest.When the sailors arrived in their own country they told the story of finding the child and the king asked to see her. He and the queen were so pleased with her lovely face and gentle manners that they received her into the royal palace. She was brought up as a lady-of-waiting to their own little daughter of about the same age.When, after a dozen years, the princess was wedded, all the kings of near-by countries were invited to the marriage feast. The king who had been lost in the forest came with the others. At the feast there was no one more beautiful than Maria-of-the-forest. The king danced with her.“Who is the girl?” was his eager question.“She has been reared in the royal palace as if she were in truth the sister of the bride,” was the reply.The king fell in love with the beautiful maid and gave her a ring. The page, however, was suspicious when he heard her name. He lost no time in making inquiries about her. What he found out made him very sure that she was in truth the daughter of the charcoal burner. He reported his suspicions to the king.“Never mind,” said the king. “I’ll wed the maid anyway. One can’t escape from one’s fate.”
There was once upon a time a rich King who had three daughters, who daily went to walk in the palace garden, and the King was a great lover of all kinds of fine trees, but there was one for which he had such an affection, that if anyone gathered an apple from it he wished him a hundred fathoms under ground. And when harvest time came, the apples on this tree were all as red as blood. The three daughters went every day beneath the tree, and looked to see if the wind had not blown down an apple, but they never by any chance found one, and the tree was so loaded with them that it was almost breaking, and the branches hung down to the ground. Then the King’s youngest child had a great desire for an apple, and said to her sisters, “Our father loves us far too much to wish us underground, it is my belief that he would only do that to people who were strangers.” And while she was speaking, the child plucked off quite a large apple, and ran to her sisters, saying, “Just taste, my dear little sisters, for never in my life have I tasted anything so delightful.” Then the two other sisters also ate some of the apple, whereupon all three sank deep down into the earth, where they could hear no cock crow.When mid-day came, the King wished to call them to come to dinner, but they were nowhere to be found. He sought them everywhere in the palace and garden, but could not find them. Then he was much troubled, and made known to the whole land that whosoever brought his daughters back again should have one of them to wife. Hereupon so many young men went about the country in search, that there was no counting them, for every one loved the three children because they were so kind to all, and so fair of face. Three young huntsmen also went out, and when they had travelled about for eight days, they arrived at a great castle, in which were beautiful apartments, and in one room a table was laid on which were delicate dishes which were still so warm that they were smoking, but in the whole of the castle no human being was either to be seen or heard. They waited there for half a day, and the food still remained warm and smoking, and at length they were so hungry that they sat down and ate, and agreed with each other that they would stay and live in that castle, and that one of them, who should be chosen by casting lots, should remain in the house, and the two others seek the King’s daughters. They cast lots, and the lot fell on the eldest; so next day the two younger went out to seek, and the eldest had to stay home. At mid-day came a small, small mannikin and begged for a piece of bread, then the hunts-man took the bread which he had found there, and cut a round off the loaf and was about to give it to him, but whilst he was giving it to the mannikin, the latter let it fall, and asked the huntsman to be so good as to give him that piece again. The huntsman was about to do so and stooped, on which the mannikin took a stick, seized him by the hair, and gave him a good beating. Next day, the second stayed at home, and he fared no better. When the two others returned in the evening, the eldest said, “Well, how have you got on?”“Oh, very badly,” said he, and then they lamented their misfortune together, but they said nothing about it to the youngest, for they did not like him at all, and always called him Stupid Hans, because he did not exactly belong to the forest. On the third day, the youngest stayed at home, and again the little mannikin came and begged for a piece of bread. When the youth gave it to him, the elf let it fall as before, and asked him to be so good as to give him that piece again. Then said Hans to the little mannikin, “What! canst thou not pick up that piece thyself? If thou wilt not take as much trouble as that for thy daily bread, thou dost not deserve to have it.” Then the mannikin grew very angry and said he was to do it, but the huntsman would not, and took my dear mannikin, and gave him a thorough beating. Then the mannikin screamed terribly, and cried, “Stop, stop, and let me go, and I will tell thee where the King’s daughters are.” When Hans heard that, he left off beating him and the mannikin told him that he was an earth-mannikin, and that there were more than a thousand like him, and that if he would go with him he would show him where the King’s daughters were. Then he showed him a deep well, but there was no water in it. And the elf said that he knew well that the companions Hans had with him did not intend to deal honourably with him, therefore if he wished to deliver the King’s children, he must do it alone. The two other brothers would also be very glad to recover the King’s daughters, but they did not want to have any trouble or danger. Hans was therefore to take a large basket, and he must seat himself in it with his hanger and a bell, and be let down. Below were three rooms, and in each of them was a princess, with a many-headed dragon, whose heads she was to comb and trim, but he must cut them off. And having said all this, the elf vanished. When it was evening the two brothers came and asked how he had got on, and he said, “pretty well so far,” and that he had seen no one except at mid-day when a little mannikin had come who had begged for a piece of bread, that he had given some to him, but that the mannikin had let it fall and had asked him to pick it up again; but as he did not choose to do that, the elf had begun to lose his temper, and that he had done what he ought not, and had given the elf a beating, on which he had told him where the King’s daughters were. Then the two were so angry at this that they grew green and yellow. Next morning they went to the well together, and drew lots who should first seat himself in the basket, and again the lot fell on the eldest, and he was to seat himself in it, and take the bell with him. Then he said, “If I ring, you must draw me up again immediately.” When he had gone down for a short distance, he rang, and they at once drew him up again. Then the second seated himself in the basket, but he did just the same as the first, and then it was the turn of the youngest, but he let himself be lowered quite to the bottom. When he had got out of the basket, he took his hanger, and went and stood outside the first door and listened, and heard the dragon snoring quite loudly. He opened the door slowly, and one of the princesses was sitting there, and had nine dragon’s heads lying upon her lap, and was combing them. Then he took his hanger and hewed at them, and the nine fell off. The princess sprang up, threw her arms round his neck, embraced and kissed him repeatedly, and took her stomacher, which was made of Red gold, and hung it round his neck. Then he went to the second princess, who had a dragon with five heads to comb, and delivered her also, and to the youngest, who had a dragon with four heads, he went likewise. And they all rejoiced, and embraced him and kissed him without stopping. Then he rang very loud, so that those above heard him, and he placed the princesses one after the other in the basket, and had them all drawn up, but when it came to his own turn he remembered the words of the elf, who had told him that his comrades did not mean well by him. So he took a great stone which was lying there, and placed it in the basket, and when it was about half way up, his false brothers above cut the rope, so that the basket with the stone fell to the ground, and they thought that he was dead, and ran away with the three princesses, making them promise to tell their father that it was they who had delivered them, and then they went to the King, and each demanded a princess in marriage.In the meantime the youngest huntsman was wandering about the three chambers in great trouble, fully expecting to have to end his days there, when he saw, hanging on the wall, a flute; then said he, “Why dost thou hang there, no one can be merry here?” He looked at the dragons’ heads likewise and said, “You too cannot help me now.” He walked backwards and forwards for such a long time that he made the surface of the ground quite smooth. But at last other thoughts came to his mind, and he took the flute from the wall, and played a few notes on it, and suddenly a number of elves appeared, and with every note that he sounded one more came. Then he played until the room was entirely filled. They all asked what he desired, so he said he wished to get above ground back to daylight, on which they seized him by every hair that grew on his head, and thus they flew with him on to the earth again. When he was above ground, he at once went to the King’s palace, just as the wedding of one princess was about to be celebrated, and he went to the room where the King and his three daughters were. When the princesses saw him they fainted. Hereupon the King was angry, and ordered him to be put in prison at once, because he thought he must have done some injury to the children. When the princesses came to themselves, however, they entreated the King to set him free again. The King asked why, and they said that they were not allowed to tell that, but their father said that they were to tell it to the stove. And he went out, listened at the door, and heard everything. Then he caused the two brothers to be hanged on the gallows, and to the third he gave his youngest daughter, and on that occasion I wore a pair of glass shoes, and I struck them against a stone, and they said, “Klink,” and were broken.
If you drop Vladimir by mistake, you know he always falls on his feet. And if Vladimir tumbles off the roof of the hut, he always falls on his feet. Cats always fall on their feet, on their four paws, and never hurt themselves. And as in tumbling, so it is in life. No cat is ever unfortunate for very long. The worse things look for a cat, the better they are going to be.Well, once upon a time, not so very long ago, an old peasant had a cat and did not like him. He was a tom-cat, always fighting; and he had lost one ear, and was not very pretty to look at. The peasant thought he would get rid of his old cat, and buy a new one from a neighbour. He did not care what became of the old tom-cat with one ear, so long as he never saw him again. It was no use thinking of killing him, for it is a life’s work to kill a cat, and it’s likely enough that the cat would come alive at the end.So the old peasant he took a sack, and he bundled the tom-cat into the sack, and he sewed up the sack and slung it over his back, and walked off into the forest. Off he went, trudging along in the summer sunshine, deep into the forest. And when he had gone very many versts into the forest, he took the sack with the cat in it and threw it away among the trees.“You stay there,” says he, “and if you do get out in this desolate place, much good may it do you, old quarrelsome bundle of bones and fur!”And with that he turned round and trudged home again, and bought a nice-looking, quiet cat from a neighbour in exchange for a little tobacco, and settled down comfortably at home with the new cat in front of the stove; and there he may be to this day, so far as I know. My story does not bother with him, but only with the old tomcat tied up in the sack away there out in the forest.The bag flew through the air, and plumped down through a bush to the ground. And the old tom-cat landed on his feet inside it, very much frightened but not hurt. Thinks he, this bag, this flight through the air, this bump, mean that my life is going to change. Very well; there is nothing like something new now and again.And presently he began tearing at the bag with his sharp claws. Soon there was a hole he could put a paw through. He went on, tearing and scratching, and there was a hole he could put two paws through. He went on with his work, and soon he could put his head through, all the easier because he had only one ear. A minute or two after that he had wriggled out of the bag, and stood up on his four paws and stretched himself in the forest.“The world seems to be larger than the village,” he said. “I will walk on and see what there is in it.”He washed himself all over, curled his tail proudly up in the air, cocked the only ear he had left, and set off walking under the forest trees.“I was the head-cat in the village,” says he to himself. “If all goes well, I shall be head here too.” And he walked along as if he were the Tzar himself.Well, he walked on and on, and he came to an old hut that had belonged to a forester. There was nobody there, nor had been for many years, and the old tom-cat made himself quite at home. He climbed up into the loft under the roof, and found a little rotten hay.“A very good bed,” says he, and curls up and falls asleep.When he woke he felt hungry, so he climbed down and went off in the forest to catch little birds and mice. There were plenty of them in the forest, and when he had eaten enough he came back to the hut, climbed into the loft, and spent the night there very comfortably.You would have thought he would be content. Not he. He was a cat. He said, “This is a good enough lodging. But I have to catch all my own food. In the village they fed me every day, and I only caught mice for fun. I ought to be able to live like that here. A person of my dignity ought not to have to do all the work for himself.”Next day he went walking in the forest. And as he was walking he met a fox, a vixen, a very pretty young thing, gay and giddy like all girls. And the fox saw the cat, and was very much astonished.“All these years,” she said—for though she was young she thought she had lived a long time—”all these years,” she said, “I’ve lived in the forest, but I’ve never seen a wild beast like that before. What a strange-looking animal! And with only one ear. How handsome!”And she came up and made her bows to the cat, and said,—“Tell me, great lord, who you are. What fortunate chance has brought you to this forest? And by what name am I to call your Excellency?”Oh! the fox was very polite. It is not every day that you meet a handsome stranger walking in the forest.The cat arched his back, and set all his fur on end, and said, very slowly and quietly,—“I have been sent from the far forests of Siberia to be Head-forester over you. And my name is Cat Ivanovitch.”“O Cat Ivanovitch!” says the pretty young fox, and she makes more bows. “I did not know. I beg your Excellency’s pardon. Will your Excellency honour my humble house by visiting it as a guest?”“I will,” says the cat. “And what do they call you?”“My name, your Excellency, is Lisabeta Ivanovna.”“I will come with you, Lisabeta,” says the cat.And they went together to the fox’s earth. Very snug, very neat it was inside; and the cat curled himself up in the best place, while Lisabeta Ivanovna, the pretty young fox, made ready a tasty dish of game. And while she was making the meal ready, and dusting the furniture with her tail, she looked at the cat. At last she said, shyly,—“Tell me, Cat Ivanovitch, are you married or single?”“Single,” says the cat.“And I too am unmarried,” says the pretty young fox, and goes busily on with her dusting and cooking.Presently she looks at the cat again.“What if we were to marry, Cat Ivanovitch? I would try to be a good wife to you.”“Very well, Lisabeta,” says the cat; “I will marry you.”The fox went to her store and took out all the dainties that she had, and made a wedding feast to celebrate her marriage to the great Cat Ivanovitch, who had only one ear, and had come from the far Siberian forests to be Head-forester.They ate up everything there was in the place.Next morning the pretty young fox went off busily into the forest to get food for her grand husband. But the old tom-cat stayed at home, and cleaned his whiskers and slept. He was a lazy one, was that cat, and proud.The fox was running through the forest, looking for game, when she met an old friend, the handsome young wolf, and he began making polite speeches to her.“What had become of you, gossip?” says he. “I’ve been to all the best earths and not found you at all.”“Let be, fool,” says the fox very shortly. “Don’t talk to me like that. What are you jesting about? Formerly I was a young, unmarried fox; now I am a wedded wife.”“Whom have you married, Lisabeta Ivanovna?”“What!” says the fox, “you have not heard that the great Cat Ivanovitch, who has only one ear, has been sent from the far Siberian forests to be Head-forester over all of us? Well, I am now the Head-forester’s wife.”“No, I had not heard, Lisabeta Ivanovna. And when can I pay my respects to his Excellency?”“Not now, not now,” says the fox. “Cat Ivanovitch will be raging angry with me if I let any one come near him. Presently he will be taking his food. Look you. Get a sheep, and make it ready, and bring it as a greeting to him, to show him that he is welcome and that you know how to treat him with respect. Leave the sheep near by, and hide yourself so that he shall not see you; for, if he did, things might be awkward.”“Thank you, thank you, Lisabeta Ivanovna,” says the wolf, and off he goes to look for a sheep.The pretty young fox went idly on, taking the air, for she knew that the wolf would save her the trouble of looking for food.Presently she met the bear.“Good-day to you, Lisabeta Ivanovna,” says the bear; “as pretty as ever, I see you are.”“Bandy-legged one,” says the fox; “fool, don’t come worrying me. Formerly I was a young, unmarried fox; now I am a wedded wife.”“I beg your pardon,” says the bear, “whom have you married, Lisabeta Ivanovna?”“The great Cat Ivanovitch has been sent from the far Siberian forests to be Head-forester over us all. And Cat Ivanovitch is now my husband,” says the fox.“Is it forbidden to have a look at his Excellency?”“It is forbidden,” says the fox. “Cat Ivanovitch will be raging angry with me if I let any one come near him. Presently he will be taking his food. Get along with you quickly; make ready an ox, and bring it by way of welcome to him. The wolf is bringing a sheep. And look you. Leave the ox near by, and hide yourself so that the great Cat Ivanovitch shall not see you; or else, brother, things may be awkward.”The bear shambled off as fast as he could go to get an ox.The pretty young fox, enjoying the fresh air of the forest, went slowly home to her earth, and crept in very quietly, so as not to awake the great Head-forester, Cat Ivanovitch, who had only one ear and was sleeping in the best place.Presently the wolf came through the forest, dragging a sheep he had killed. He did not dare to go too near the fox’s earth, because of Cat Ivanovitch, the new Head-forester. So he stopped, well out of sight, and stripped off the skin of the sheep, and arranged the sheep so as to seem a nice tasty morsel. Then he stood still, thinking what to do next. He heard a noise, and looked up. There was the bear, struggling along with a dead ox.“Good-day, brother Michael Ivanovitch,” says the wolf.“Good-day, brother Levon Ivanovitch,” says the bear. “Have you seen the fox, Lisabeta Ivanovna, with her husband, the Head-forester?”“No, brother,” says the wolf. “For a long time I have been waiting to see them.”“Go on and call out to them,” says the bear.“No, Michael Ivanovitch,” says the wolf, “I will not go. Do you go; you are bigger and bolder than I.”“No, no, Levon Ivanovitch, I will not go. There is no use in risking one’s life without need.”Suddenly, as they were talking, a little hare came running by. The bear saw him first, and roared out,—“Hi, Squinteye! trot along here.”The hare came up, slowly, two steps at a time, trembling with fright.“Now then, you squinting rascal,” says the bear, “do you know where the fox lives, over there?”“I know, Michael Ivanovitch.”“Get along there quickly, and tell her that Michael Ivanovitch the bear and his brother Levon Ivanovitch the wolf have been ready for a long time, and have brought presents of a sheep and an ox, as greetings to his Excellency …”“His Excellency, mind,” says the wolf; “don’t forget.”The hare ran off as hard as he could go, glad to have escaped so easily. Meanwhile the wolf and the bear looked about for good places in which to hide.“It will be best to climb trees,” says the bear. “I shall go up to the top of this fir.”“But what am I to do?” says the wolf. “I can’t climb a tree for the life of me. Brother Michael, Brother Michael, hide me somewhere or other before you climb up. I beg you, hide me, or I shall certainly be killed.”“Crouch down under these bushes,” says the bear, “and I will cover you with the dead leaves.”“May you be rewarded,” says the wolf; and he crouched down under the bushes, and the bear covered him up with dead leaves, so that only the tip of his nose could be seen.Then the bear climbed slowly up into the fir tree, into the very top, and looked out to see if the fox and Cat Ivanovitch were coming.They were coming; oh yes, they were coming! The hare ran up and knocked on the door, and said to the fox,—“Michael Ivanovitch the bear and his brother Levon Ivanovitch the wolf have been ready for a long time, and have brought presents of a sheep and an ox as greetings to his Excellency.”“Get along, Squinteye,” says the fox; “we are just coming.”And so the fox and the cat set out together.The bear, up in the top of the tree, saw them, and called down to the wolf,—“They are coming, Brother Levon; they are coming, the fox and her husband. But what a little one he is, to be sure!”“Quiet, quiet,” whispers the wolf. “He’ll hear you, and then we are done for.”The cat came up, and arched his back and set all his furs on end, and threw himself on the ox, and began tearing the meat with his teeth and claws. And as he tore he purred. And the bear listened, and heard the purring of the cat, and it seemed to him that the cat was angrily muttering, “Small, small, small….”And the bear whispers: “He’s no giant, but what a glutton! Why, we couldn’t get through a quarter of that, and he finds it not enough. Heaven help us if he comes after us!”The wolf tried to see, but could not, because his head, all but his nose, was covered with the dry leaves. Little by little he moved his head, so as to clear the leaves away from in front of his eyes. Try as he would to be quiet, the leaves rustled, so little, ever so little, but enough to be heard by the one ear of the cat.The cat stopped tearing the meat and listened.“I haven’t caught a mouse to-day,” he thought.Once more the leaves rustled.The cat leapt through the air and dropped with all four paws, and his claws out, on the nose of the wolf. How the wolf yelped! The leaves flew like dust, and the wolf leapt up and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him.Well, the wolf was frightened, I can tell you, but he was not so frightened as the cat.When the great wolf leapt up out of the leaves, the cat screamed and ran up the nearest tree, and that was the tree where Michael Ivanovitch the bear was hiding in the topmost branches.“Oh, he has seen me. Cat Ivanovitch has seen me,” thought the bear. He had no time to climb down, and the cat was coming up in long leaps.The bear trusted to Providence, and jumped from the top of the tree. Many were the branches he broke as he fell; many were the bones he broke when he crashed to the ground. He picked himself up and stumbled off, groaning.The pretty young fox sat still, and cried out, “Run, run, Brother Levon!… Quicker on your pins, Brother Michael! His Excellency is behind you; his Excellency is close behind!”Ever since then all the wild beasts have been afraid of the cat, and the cat and the fox live merrily together, and eat fresh meat all the year round, which the other animals kill for them and leave a little way off.And that is what happened to the old tom-cat with one eye, who was sewn up in a bag and thrown away in the forest.“Just think what would happen to our handsome Vladimir if we were to throw him away!” said Vanya.
There was once a man who had but one wife. He was not a chief, but a very brave warrior. He was rich, too, so he could have had plenty of wives if he wished; but he loved his wife very much, and did not want any more. He was very good to this woman. She always wore the best clothes that could be found. If any other woman had a fine buckskin dress, or something very pretty, the man would buy it for her.It was summer. The berries were ripe, and the woman kept saying to her husband, “Let us go and pick some berries for winter.” “No,” replied the man. “It is dangerous now. The enemy is travelling all around.” But still the woman kept teasing him to go. So one day he told her to get ready. Some other women went, too. They all went on horseback, for the berries were a long way from camp. When they got to the place, the man told the women to keep near their horses all the time. He would go up on a butte near by and watch. “Be careful,” he said. “Keep by your horses, and if you see me signal, throw away your berries, get on your horses and ride towards camp as fast as you can.”They had not picked many berries before the man saw a war party coming. He signalled the women, and got on his horse and rode towards them. It happened that this man and his wife both had good horses, but the others, all old women, rode slow old travois horses, and the enemy soon overtook and killed them. Many kept on after the two on good horses, and after a while the woman’s horse began to get tired; so she asked her husband to let her ride on his horse with him. The woman got up behind him, and they went on again. The horse was a very powerful one, and for a while went very fast; but two persons make a heavy load, and soon the enemy began to gain on them. The man was now in a bad plight; the enemy were overtaking him, and the woman holding him bound his arms so that he could not use his bow.“Get off,” he said to her. “The enemy will not kill you. You are too young and pretty. Some one of them will take you, and I will get a big party of our people and rescue you.”“No, no,” cried the woman; “let us die here together.”“Why die?” cried the man. “We are yet young, and may live a long time together. If you don’t get off, they will soon catch us and kill me, and then they will take you anyhow. Get off, and in only a short time I will get you back.”“No, no,” again cried the woman; “I will die here with you.”“Crazy person!” cried the man, and with a quick jerk he threw the woman off.As he said, the enemy did not kill her. The first one who came up counted coup and took her. The man, now that his horse was lightened, easily ran away from the war party, and got safe to camp.Then there was great mourning. The relatives of the old women who had been killed, cut their hair and cried. The man, too, cut off his hair and mourned. He knew that his wife was not killed, but he felt very badly because he was separated from her. He painted himself black, and walked all through the camp, crying. His wife had many relations, and some of them went to the man and said: “We pity you very much. We mourn, too, for our sister. But come. Take courage. We will go with you, and try to get her back.”“It is good,” replied the man. “I feel as if I should die, stopping uselessly here. Let us start soon.”That evening they got ready, and at daylight started out on foot. There were seven of them in all. The husband, five middle-aged men, the woman’s relations, and a young man, her own young brother. He was a very pretty boy. His hair was longer than any other person’s in camp.They soon found the trail of the war party, and followed it for some days. At last they came to the Big River, and there, on the other side, they saw many lodges. They crept down a coulée into the valley, and hid in a small piece of timber just opposite the camp. Toward evening the man said: “Kyi, my brothers. To-night I will swim across and look all through the camp for my wife. If I do not find her, I will cache and look again to-morrow evening. But if I do not return before daylight of the second night, then you will know I am killed. Then you will do as you think best. Maybe you will want to take revenge. Maybe you will go right back home. That will be as your hearts feel.”As soon as it was dark, he swam across the river and went all about through the camp, peeping in through the doorways of the lodges, but he did not see his wife. Still, he knew she must be there. He had followed the trail of the party to this place. They had not killed her on the way. He kept looking in at the lodges until it was late, and the people let the fires go out and went to bed. Then the man went down to where the women got their water from the river. Everywhere along the stream was a cut bank, but in one place a path of steps had been made down to the water’s edge. Near this path, he dug a hole in the bank and crawled into it, closing up the entrance, except one small hole, through which he could look, and watch the people who came to the river.As soon as it was daylight, the women began to come for water. Tum, tum, tum, tum, he could hear their footsteps as they came down the path, and he looked eagerly at every one. All day long the people came and went,—the young and old; and the children played about near him. He saw many strange people that day. It was now almost sunset, and he began to think that he would not see his wife there. Tum, tum, tum, tum, another woman came down the steps, and stopped at the water’s edge. Her dress was strange, but he thought he knew the form. She turned her head and looked down the river, and he saw her face. It was his wife. He pushed away the dirt, crawled out, went to her and kissed her. “Kyi,” he said, “hurry, and let us swim across the river. Five of your relations and your own young brother are waiting for us in that piece of timber.”“Wait,” replied his wife. “These people have given me a great many pretty things. Let me go back. When it is night I will gather them up, steal a horse, and cross over to you.”“No, no,” cried the man. “Let the pretty things go; come, let us cross at once.”“Pity me,” said the woman. “Let me go and get my things. I will surely come to-night. I speak the truth.”“How do you speak the truth?” asked her husband.“That my relations there across the river may be safe and live long, I speak the truth.”“Go then,” said the man, “and get your things. I will cross the river now.” He went up on the bank and walked down the river, keeping his face hidden. No one noticed him, or if they did, they thought he belonged to the camp.As soon as he had passed the first bend, he swam across the river, and soon joined his relations.“I have seen my wife,” he said to them. “She will come over as soon as it is dark. I let her go back to get some things that were given her.”“You are crazy,” said one of the men, “very crazy. She already loves this new man she has, or she would not have wanted to go back.”“Stop that,” said the husband; “do not talk bad of her. She will surely come.”The woman went back to her lodge with the water, and, sitting down near the fireplace, she began to act very strangely. She took up pieces of charred wood, dirt, and ashes in her hands and ate them, and made queer noises.“What is it?” asked the man who had taken her for a wife. “What is the matter with you?” He spoke in signs.The woman also spoke in signs. She answered him: “The Sun told me that there are seven persons across the river in that piece of timber. Five of them are middle-aged, another is a young boy with very long hair, another is a man who mourns. His hair is cut short.”The Snake did not know what to do, so he called in some chiefs and old men to advise with him. They thought that the woman might be very strong medicine. At all events, it would be a good thing to go and look. So the news was shouted out, and in a short time all the warriors had mounted their best horses, and started across the river. It was then almost dark, so they surrounded the piece of timber, and waited for morning to begin the search.“Kyi,” said one of the woman’s relations to her husband. “Did I not speak the truth? You see now what that woman has done for us.”At daylight the poor husband strung his bow, took a handful of arrows from his quiver, and said: “This is my fault. I have brought you to this. It is right that I should die first,” and he started to go out of the timber.“Wait,” said the eldest relative. “It shall not be so. I am the first to go. I cannot stay back to see my brother die. You shall go out last.” So he jumped out of the brush, and began shooting his arrows, but was soon killed.“My brother is too far on the road alone,” cried another relation, and he jumped out and fought, too. What use, one against so many? The Snakes soon had his scalp.So they went out, one after another, and at last the husband was alone. He rushed out very brave, and shot his arrows as fast as he could. “Hold!” cried the Snake man to his people. “Do not kill him; catch him. This is the one my wife said to bring back alive. See! his hair is cut short.” So, when the man had shot away all his arrows, they seized and tied him, and, taking the scalps of the others, returned to camp.They took the prisoner into the lodge where his wife was. His hands were tied behind his back, and they tied his feet, too. He could not move.As soon as the man saw his wife, he cried. He was not afraid. He did not care now how soon he died. He cried because he was thinking of all the trouble and death this woman had caused. “What have I done to you,” he asked his wife, “that you should treat me this way? Did I not always use you well? I never struck you. I never made you work hard.”“What does he say?” asked the Snake man.“He says,” replied the woman, “that when you are done smoking, you must knock the ashes and fire out of your pipe on his breast.”The Snake was not a bad-hearted man, but he thought now that this woman had strong medicine, that she had Sun power; so he thought that everything must be done as she said. When the man had finished smoking, he emptied the pipe on the Piegan’s breast, and the fire burned him badly.Then the poor man cried again, not from the pain, but to think what a bad heart this woman had. Again he spoke to her. “You cannot be a person,” he said. “I think you are some fearful animal, changed to look like a woman.”“What is he saying now?” asked the Snake.“He wants some boiling water poured on his head,” replied the woman.“It shall be as he says,” said the Snake; and he had his women heat some water. When it was ready, one of them poured a little of it here and there on the captive’s head and shoulders. Wherever the hot water touched, the hair came out and the skin peeled off. The pain was so bad that the Piegan nearly fainted. When he revived, he said to his wife: “Pity me. I have suffered enough. Let them kill me now. Let me hurry to join those who are already travelling to the Sand Hills.”The woman turned to the Snake chief, and said, “The man says that he wants you to give him to the Sun.”“It is good,” said the Snake. “To-morrow we move camp. Before we leave here, we will give him to the Sun.”There was an old woman in this camp who lived all alone, in a little lodge of her own. She had some friends and relations, but she said she liked to live by herself. She had heard that a Piegan had been captured, and went to the lodge where he was. When she saw them pour the boiling water on him, she cried and felt badly. This old woman had a very good heart. She went home and lay down by her dog, and kept crying, she felt so sorry for this poor man. Pretty soon she heard people shouting out the orders of the chief. They said: “Listen! listen! To-morrow we move camp. Get ready now and pack up everything. Before we go, the Piegan man will be given to the Sun.”Then the old woman knew what to do. She tied a piece of buckskin around her dog’s mouth, so he could not bark, and then she took him way out in the timber and tied him where he could not be seen. She also filled a small sack with pemmican, dried meat, and berries, and put it near the dog.In the morning the people rose early. They smoothed a cotton-wood tree, by taking off the bark, and painted it black. Then they stood the Piegan up against it, and fastened him there with a great many ropes. When they had tied him so he could not move, they painted his face black, and the chief Snake made a prayer, and gave him to the Sun.Every one was now busy getting ready to move camp. This old woman had lost her dog, and kept calling out for him and looking all around. “Tsis’-i!” she cried. “Tsis’-i! Come here. Knock the dog on the head! 1 Wait till I find him, and I’ll break his neck.”The people were now all packed up, and some had already started on the trail. “Don’t wait for me,” the old woman said. “Go on, I’ll look again for my dog, and catch up with you.”When all were gone, the old woman went and untied her dog, and then, going up to where the Piegan was tied, she cut the ropes, and he was free. But already the man was very weak, and he fell down on the ground. She rubbed his limbs, and pretty soon he felt better. The old woman was so sorry for him that she cried again, and kissed him. Then the man cried, too. He was so glad that some one pitied him. By and by he ate some of the food the old woman had given him, and felt strong again. He said to her in signs: “I am not done. I shall go back home now, but I will come again. I will bring all the Piegans with me, and we will have revenge.”“You say well,” signed the old woman.“Help me,” again said the man. “If, on the road you are travelling, this camp should separate, mark the trail my wife takes with a stick. You, too, follow the party she goes with, and always put your lodge at the far end of the village. When I return with my people, I will enter your lodge, and tell you what to do.”“I take your speech,” replied the old woman. “As you say, so it shall be.” Then she kissed him again, and started on after her people. The man went to the river, swam across, and started for the North.Why are the people crying? Why is all this mourning? Ah! the poor man has returned home, and told how those who went with him were killed. He has told them the whole story. They are getting ready for war. Every one able to fight is going with this man back to the Snakes. Only a few will be left to guard the camp. The mother of that bad woman is going, too. She has sharpened her axe, and told what she will do when she sees her daughter. All are ready. The best horses have been caught up and saddled, and the war party has started,—hundreds and hundreds of warriors. They are strung out over the prairie as far as you can see.When they got to the Missouri River, the poor man showed them where the lodge in which they had tortured him had stood. He took them to see the tree, where he had been bound. The black paint was still on it.From here, they went slowly. Some young men were sent far ahead to scout. The second day, they came back to the main body, and said they had found a camping place just deserted, and that there the trail forked. The poor man then went ahead, and at the forks he found a willow twig stuck in the ground, pointing to the left hand trail. When the others came up, he said to them: “Take care of my horse now, and travel slowly. I will go ahead on foot and find the camp. It must be close. I will go and see that old woman, and find out how things are.”Some men did not want him to do this; they said that the old woman might tell about him, and then they could not surprise the camp.“No,” replied the man. “It will not be so. That old woman is almost the same as my mother. I know she will help us.”He went ahead carefully, and near sunset saw the camp. When it was dark, he crept near it and entered the old woman’s lodge. She had placed it behind, and a little way off from, the others. When he went in the old woman was asleep, but the fire was still burning a little. He touched her, and she jumped up and started to scream; but he put his hand on her mouth, and when she saw who it was she laughed and kissed him. “The Piegans have come,” he told her. “We are going to have revenge on this camp to-night. Is my wife here?”“Still here,” replied the old woman. “She is chief now. They think her medicine very strong.”“Tell your friends and relations,” said the Piegan, “that you have had a dream, and that they must move into the brush yonder. Have them stay there with you, and they will not be hurt. I am going now to get my people.”It was very late in the night. Most of the Snakes were in bed and asleep. All at once the camp was surrounded with warriors, shouting the war cry and shooting, stabbing, and knocking people on the head as fast as they came out of the lodges.That Piegan woman cried out: “Don’t hurt me. I am a Piegan. Are any of my people here?”“Many of your relations are here,” some one said. “They will protect you.”Some young men seized and tied her, as her husband had said to do. They had hard work to keep her mother from killing her. “Hai yah!” the old woman cried. “There is my Snake woman daughter. Let me split her head open.”The fight was soon over. The Piegans killed the people almost as fast as they came out of their lodges. Some few escaped in the darkness. When the fight was over, the young warriors gathered up a great pile of lodge poles and brush, and set fire to it. Then the poor man tore the dress off his bad wife, tied the scalp of her dead Snake man around her neck, and told her to dance the scalp dance in the fire. She cried and hung back, calling out for pity. The people only laughed and pushed her into the fire. She would run through it, and then those on the other side would push her back. So they kept her running through the fire, until she fell down and died.The old Snake woman had come out of the brush with her relations. Because she had been so good, the Piegans gave her, and those with her, one-half of all the horses and valuable things they had taken. “Kyi!” said the Piegan chief. “That is all for you, because you helped this poor man. To-morrow morning we start back North. If your heart is that way, go too and live with us.” So these Snakes joined the Piegans and lived with them until they died, and their children married with the Piegans, and at last they were no longer Snake people.
Once upon a time there were two neighbors: one of them rich and the other poor. They owned a great meadow in common, which they were supposed to mow together and then divide the hay.But the rich neighbor wanted the meadow for himself alone, and told the poor one that he would drive him out of house and home if he did not come to an agreement with him that whichever one of them mowed the largest stretch of the meadowland in a single day, should receive the entire meadow.Now the rich neighbor got together as many mowers as ever he could; but the poor one could not hire a single man. At last he despaired altogether and wept, because he did not know how he could manage to get so much as a bit of hay for the cow.Then it was that a large man stepped up to him and said: “Do not grieve so. I can tell you what you ought to do. When the mowing begins, just call out ‘Old Hopgiant!’ three times in succession, and you’ll not be at a loss, as you shall see for yourself.” And with that he disappeared.Then the poor man’s heart grew less heavy, and he gave over worrying. So one fine day his rich neighbor came along with no fewer than twenty farmhands, and they mowed down one swath after another. But the poor neighbor did not even take the trouble to begin when he saw how the others took hold, and that he himself would not be able to do anything alone.Then the big man occurred to him, and he called out: “Old Hopgiant!” But no one came, and the mowers all laughed at him and mocked him, thinking he had gone out of his mind. Then he called again: “Old Hopgiant!” And, just as before, there was no hopgiant to be seen. And the mowers could scarcely swing their scythes; for they were laughing fit to split.And then he cried for the third time: “Old Hopgiant!” And there appeared a fellow of truly horrible size, with a scythe as large as a ship’s mast.And now the merriment of the rich peasant’s mowers came to an end. For when the giant began to mow and fling about his scythe, they were frightened at the strength he put into his work. And before they knew it he had mown half the meadow.Then the rich neighbor fell into a rage, rushed up and gave the giant a good kick. But that did not help him, for his foot stuck to the giant, while the latter no more felt the kick than if it had been a flea-bite, and kept right on working.Then the rich neighbor thought of a scheme to get free, and gave the giant a kick with his other foot; but this foot also stuck fast, and there he hung like a tick. Old Hopgiant mowed the whole meadow, and then flew up into the air, and the rich man had to go along hanging to him like a hawser. And thus the poor neighbor was left sole master of the place.
St. Peter had two sisters—one large, the other small. The little one entered a convent and became a nun. St. Peter was delighted at this and tried to persuade his big sister to become a nun also. She would not listen to him, however, and said: “I would rather marry.” After St. Peter had suffered martyrdom, he became, as is well known, Porter of Heaven. One day the Lord said to him: “Peter, open the gate of heaven to-day as wide as you can, and get out all the heavenly ornaments and decorations, for to-day a very deserving soul is going to arrive here.” St. Peter did as he was told with great joy, and thought: “Certainly my little sister is dead, and is coming to heaven to-day.” When everything was ready, there came the soul of —— his big sister, who had died and left many children, who bitterly lamented her loss. The Lord gave her an exalted place in heaven, much to the astonishment of St. Peter, who thought: “I never should have imagined this; what shall I have to do when the soul of my little sister comes?”Not long after, the Lord said to him: “Peter, open the gate of heaven to-day a little way, but a very little,—do you hear?” St. Peter did so and wondered: “Who is coming to-day?” Then came the soul of his little sister, and had so much trouble to squeeze through the gate that she hurt herself; and she received a much lower place in heaven than the big sister. At first St. Peter was amazed; afterwards he said: “It has happened differently from what I imagined; but I see now that every profession has its merits, and every one, if he only wishes, can enter heaven.”
One day the devil met Kitta Grau:“Where have you been, old man?” asked Kitta Grau, for she recognized him.“Well,” said the evil one, “I have been out on the farmstead where the newly wedded couple live. This is the third time I have tried to sow dissension between them; but they think so much of each other that it is a sheer impossibility.”“You talk like a real stupid. That is something I could bring about the very first time I went there,” said Kitta Grau.“If you can do that, you shall have a splendid pair of shoes,” was the evil one’s reply.“Mind you keep your word!” said Kitta, and turned toward the farmstead.There the woman was home alone; for her husband had gone to the forest. Kitta said to the young wife:“You really have a splendid husband.”“And that is the truth,” the woman replied, “for he grants my every wish before it is spoken.”“But take my word for it,” said Kitta, “there is still a bit of deceit in him. He has a pair of long hairs under his chin—if you could get at them with a razor, and cut them off while he is asleep, then he would be altogether without malice.”“Well,” said the woman, “if that will help, I will be sure to keep an eye open after dinner and attend to it, for then he always takes a little noon-day nap.”Then Kitta Grau went out into the forest to the husband and bade him good-day.“You really have a very good wife,” said Kitta.“She could not be bettered,” replied the husband.“Well you might be mistaken for all that,” said Kitta. “When you come home, be on your guard, for when you go to take your noon-day nap, she has in mind to cut your throat. So be sure not to go to sleep.”The husband did not think much of the matter; but still he thanked Kitta Grau for her trouble.Then he went home and ate his dinner, laid down and pretended to fall asleep at once.Thereupon his wife went to his shaving-kit, took out his razor, went softly up to him and took hold of his chin with her hand.Up flew the man.“Do you want to murder me?” he cried, and gave his wife such a thump that she measured her full length on the floor.And from that day forward there was no peace in the house. Now Kitta Grau was to receive her reward from the evil one. But he was so afraid of her that he did not venture to give her the shoes until he stood on one side of a stream, while she stood on the other, and then he passed them over to her on a long pole.“You are ever so much worse than I am,” he told Kitta Grau.The black man had made a bargain with a merchant. He had promised him that all goods which he might buy he should sell again within three weeks’ time at a handsome profit. But, if he had prospered, after seven years had passed he was to be the devil’s own. And he did prosper; for no matter what manner of old trash the merchant bought, and if it were no more than an old worn-out fur coat, he was always able to sell it again, and always at a profit.Kitta Grau came into his shop and showed him the handsome shoes the evil one had given her.So the merchant said:“May heaven keep me from him! He will surely fetch me when the time comes; for I have made a pact with him; and I have been unable to buy anything without selling it again in three weeks’ time.”Then Kitta Grau said: “Buy me, for I am sure no one will buy me from you!” And that is what the merchant did. He bought Kitta, had her disrobe and cover herself with tar, and roll in a pile of feathers. Then he put her in a glass cage as though she were a bird.Now the first week went by, and the second week went by, and the third week went by, and no one appeared who wanted to buy the curious bird. And then, in due time, came the evil one, and wanted to fetch his merchant.“Have patience,” said the merchant, “I still have something I have bought, but have not been able to sell again in three weeks’ time.”“That is something I’d like to see,” said the black man. Then the merchant showed him Kitta Grau, sitting in her glass cage. But no sooner had the evil one seen the handsome bird than he cried:“Oh, I see! It is you Kitta Grau! No one who knows you would buy you!”And with that he hurried on his way.Thus Kitta Grau could help do evil, and help do good.
A Lion used to prowl about a field in which Four Oxen used to dwell. Many a time he tried to attack them; but whenever he came near they turned their tails to one another, so that whichever way he approached them he was met by the horns of one of them. At last, however, they fell a-quarrelling among themselves, and each went off to pasture alone in a separate corner of the field. Then the Lion attacked them one by one and soon made an end of all four. United we stand, divided we fall.
The Maiden of Unai was fair as an earthly deity, but the eyes of man might not behold her. She dwelt in a hidden place in her father’s house, and of what cheer she made the live-long day not a soul could tell, but her father who kept watch, and her mother who kept ward, and her ancient nurse who tended her. The cause was this.When the maid was about seven years old, with her black hair loose and hanging to her shoulder, an ancient man, a traveller, came, footsore and weary, to her father’s house. He was made welcome, served with rice and with tea, whilst the master of the house sat by, and the mistress, to do him honour. Meanwhile the little maid was here and there, catching at her mother’s sleeve, pattering with bare feet over the mats, or bouncing a great green and scarlet ball in a corner. And the stranger lifted his eyes and marked the child.After he had eaten, he called for a bowl of clear water, and taking from his wallet a handful of fine silver sand he let it slip through his fingers and it sank to the bottom of the bowl. In a little he spoke.“My lord,” he said to the master of the house, “I was hungry and weary, and you have fed me and refreshed me. I am a poor man and it is hard for me to show my gratitude. Now I am a soothsayer by profession, very far-famed for the skill of my divination. Therefore, in return for your kindness I have looked into the future of your child. Will you hear her destiny?”The child knelt in a corner of the room bouncing her green and scarlet ball.The master of the house bade the soothsayer speak on.This one looked down into the bowl of water where the sand was, and said: “The Maiden of Unai shall grow up fairer than the children of men. Her beauty shall shine as the beauty of an earthly deity. Every man who looks upon her shall pine with love and longing, and when she is fifteen years old there shall die for her sake a mighty hero from near, and a valiant hero from afar. And there shall be sorrow and mourning because of her, loud and grievous, so that the sound of it shall reach High Heaven and offend the peace of the gods.”The master of the house said, “Is this a true divination?”“Indeed, my lord,” said the soothsayer, “it is too true.” And with that he bound on his sandals, and taking his staff and his great hat of rice-straw, he spoke no other word, but went his ways; neither was he any more seen nor heard tell of upon that country-side.And the child knelt in a corner of the room, bouncing her green and scarlet ball.The father and mother took counsel.The mother wept, but she said, “Let be, for who can alter the pattern set up upon the looms of the weaving women of Heaven?” But the father cried, “I will fight. I will avert the portent; the thing shall not come to pass. Who am I that I should give credence to a dog of a soothsayer who lies in his teeth?” And though his wife shook her head and moaned, he gave her counsel no heed, for he was a man.So they hid the child in a secret chamber, where an old wise woman tended her, fed her, bathed her, combed her hair, taught her to make songs and to sing, to dance so that her feet moved like rosy butterflies over the white mats, or to sit at a frame with a wonder of needlework stretched upon it, drawing the needle and the silken thread hour after hour.For eight years the maid set eyes upon no human being save her father, her mother, and her nurse, these three only. All the day she spent in her distant chamber, far removed from the sights and the sounds of the world. Only in the night she came forth into her father’s garden, when the moon shone and the birds slept and the flowers had no colour. And with every season that passed the maid grew more beautiful. Her hair hung down to her knees and was black as a thundercloud. Her forehead was the plum blossom, her cheek the wild cherry, and her mouth the flower of the pomegranate. At fifteen years old she was the loveliest thing that ever saw the light, and the sun was sick with jealousy because only the moon might shine upon her.In spite of all, the fame of her beauty became known, and because she was kept so guarded men thought of her the more, and because she might not be seen men longed to behold her. And because of the mystery and the maiden, gallants and warriors and men of note came from far and near and flocked to the house of Unai; and they made a hedge about it with themselves and their bright swords; and they swore that they would not leave the place till they had sight of the maid, and this they would have either by favour or by force.Then the master of the house did even as he must, and he sent her mother to bring the maid down. So the mother went, taking with her a robe of grey silk and a great girdle of brocade, green and gold; and she found the maid, her daughter, sitting in her secret chamber singing.The maid sang thus:“Nothing has changed since the time of the gods, Neither the running of water nor the way of love.”And the mother was astonished and said, “What manner of song is this, and where heard you of such a thing as love?”And she answered, “I have read of it in a book.”Then they took her, her mother and the wise woman, and they tied her hair and pinned it high upon her head with gold and coral pins, and held it with a great lacquer comb. She said, “How heavy it is!”While they dressed her in the robe of grey silk, and tied the girdle of brocade, first she shuddered and said, “I am cold.” Then they would have thrown over her a mantle broidered with plum blossom and pine, but she would have none of it, saying, “No, no, I burn.”They painted her lips with beni, and when she saw it she murmured, “Alack, there is blood upon my lips!” But they led her down and out on to a balcony, where the men who were assembled might see her. She was fairer than the children of men, and her beauty shone like the beauty of an earthly deity. And all the warriors who were there looked upon her and were silent, for already they were faint with love and longing. And the maid stood with eyes cast down, and slowly the hot blush rose to her cheek and she was lovelier than before.Three or four score men of name sought her hand, being distraught for love of her, and amongst them were two braver and nobler than the rest. The one came from afar and was the champion of Chinu, and the other came from near, the champion of Unai. They were young, strong, and black-haired. They were equal in years, in strength, and in valour. Both were girded with great swords, and full-charged quivers were upon their backs, and six-foot bows of white wood were in their hands. Together they stood beneath the balcony of the maiden of Unai, like twin brothers in beauty and attainments. Together they cried aloud with passionate voices, telling of their eternal love, and bidding the maiden choose between them.She lifted up her eyes and looked fixedly upon them, but spoke no word.Then they drew their swords and made as if to fight the matter out there and then; but the maid’s father spoke: “Put up your swords, fair sirs; I have devised a better way for the decision of this thing. If it please you, enter my house.”Now part of the house of Unai was built out upon a platform over the river that flowed past. It was the fifth month and the wistaria was in blossom upon the trellis, and hung downwards nearly into the water. The river was swift and deep. Here the master of the house brought the champions, and the maiden was there also. But the mother and the wise woman stood a little way apart, and hid their faces in their long sleeves. Presently a white water-bird dropped from the blue sky, and rocked to and fro upon the water of the river.“Now, champions,” cried the father of the maiden, “draw me your bows and let fly each of you an arrow at yonder white bird that floats upon the river. He that shall strike the bird and prove himself to be the better marksman, he shall wed my daughter, the peerless Maiden of Unai.”Then immediately the two champions drew their bows of white wood and let fly each of them an arrow. Each arrow sped swift; each arrow struck true. The champion of Chinu struck the water-bird in the head, but the champion of Unai struck her in the tail so that the white feathers were scattered. Then the champions cried, “Enough of this trifling. There is but one way.” And again their bright swords leapt from their scabbards.But the maid stood trembling, holding the gnarled stem of the wistaria in her hands. She trembled and shook the branches so that the frail flowers fell about her. “My lords, my lords,” she cried, “oh, brave and beautiful heroes of fame, it is not meet that one of you should die for such as I am. I honour you; I love you both—therefore farewell.” With that, still holding to the wistaria, she swung herself clear of the balcony and dropped into the deep and swift-flowing river. “Weep not,” she cried, “for no woman dies to-day. It is but a child that is lost.” And so she sank.Down sprang the champion of Chinu into the flood, and in the same instant down sprang the champion of Unai. Alack, they were heavy with the arms that they bore, and they sank and were entangled in the long water weeds. And so the three of them were drowned.But at night when the moon shone, the pale dead rose, floating to the surface of the water. The champion of Unai held the maiden’s right hand in his own, but the champion of Chinu lay with his head against the maiden’s heart, bound close to her by a tress of her long hair; and as he lay he smiled.The three corpses they lifted from the water, and laid them together upon a bier of fair white wood, and over them they strewed herbs and sweet flowers, and laid a veil over their faces of fine white silk. And they lighted fires and burned incense. Gallants and warriors and men of note who loved the maiden, alive or dead, stood about her bier and made a hedge with themselves and their bright swords. And there was sorrow and mourning, loud and grievous, so that the sound of it reached High Heaven and offended the peace of the gods.A grave was dug wide and deep, and the three were buried therein. The maid they laid in the middle, and the two champions upon either side. Idzumo was the native place of the champion of Chinu, so they brought earth from thence in a junk, and with this earth they covered him.So the maid slept there in the grave, the champions faithfully guarding her, for they had buried with them their bows of white wood and their good armour and their spears and their bright swords. Nothing was forgotten that is needful for adventure in the Land of Yomi.
At the edge of a wood there lived an old man who had only one son, and one day he called the boy to him and said he wanted some corn ground, but the youth must be sure never to enter any mill where the miller was beardless.The boy took the corn and set out, and before he had gone very far he saw a large mill in front of him, with a beardless man standing in the doorway.‘Good greeting, beardless one!’ cried he.‘Good greeting, sonny,’ replied the man.‘Could I grind something here?’‘Yes, certainly! I will finish what I am doing and then you can grind as long as you like.’But suddenly the boy remembered what his father had told him, and bade farewell to the man, and went further down the river, till he came to another mill, not knowing that as soon as his back was turned the beardless man had picked up a bag of corn and run hastily to the same mill before him. When the boy reached the second mill, and saw a second beardless man sitting there, he did not stop, and walked on till he came to a third mill. But this time also the beardless man had been too clever for him, and had arrived first by another road. When it happened a fourth time the boy grew cross, and said to himself, ‘It is no good going on; there seems to be a beardless man in every mill’; and he took his sack from his back, and made up his mind to grind his corn where he was.The beardless man finished grinding his own corn, and when he had done he said to the boy, who was beginning to grind his, ‘Suppose, sonny, we make a cake of what you have there.’Now the boy had been rather uneasy when he recollected his father’s words, but he thought to himself, ‘What is done cannot be undone,’ and answered, ‘Very well, so let it be.’Then the beardless one got up, threw the flour into the tub, and made a hole in the middle, telling the boy to fetch some water from the river in his two hands, to mix the cake. When the cake was ready for baking they put it on the fire, and covered it with hot ashes, till it was cooked through. Then they leaned it up against the wall, for it was too big to go into a cupboard, and the beardless one said to the boy:‘Look here, sonny: if we share this cake we shall neither of us have enough. Let us see who can tell the biggest lie, and the one who lies the best shall have the whole cake.’The boy, not knowing what else to do, answered, ‘All right; you begin.’So the beardless one began to lie with all his might, and when he was tired of inventing new lies the boy said to him, ‘My good fellow, if THAT is all you can do it is not much! Listen to me, and I will tell you a true story.‘In my youth, when I was an old man, we had a quantity of beehives. Every morning when I got up I counted them over, and it was quite easy to number the bees, but I never could reckon the hives properly. One day, as I was counting the bees, I discovered that my best bee was missing, and without losing a moment I saddled a cock and went out to look for him. I traced him as far as the shore, and knew that he had crossed the sea, and that I must follow. When I had reached the other side I found a man had harnessed my bee to a plough, and with his help was sowing millet seed.‘ “That is my bee!” I shouted. “Where did you get him from?” ‘ “Brother,” replied the man, “if he is yours, take him.” And he not only gave me back my bee, but a sack of millet seed into the bargain, because he had made use of my bee. Then I put the bag on my shoulders, took the saddle from the cock, and placed it on the back of the bee, which I mounted, leading the cock by a string, so that he should have a rest. As we were flying home over the sea one of the strings that held the bag of millet broke in two, and the sack dropped straight into the ocean. It was quite lost, of course, and there was no use thinking about it, and by the time we were safe back again night had come. I then got down from my bee, and let him loose, that he might get his supper, gave the cock some hay, and went to sleep myself. But when I awoke with the sun what a scene met my eyes! During the night wolves had come and had eaten my bee. And honey lay ankle-deep in the valley and knee-deep on the hills. Then I began to consider how I could best collect some, to take home with me.‘Now it happened that I had with me a small hatchet, and this I took to the wood, hoping to meet some animal which I could kill, whose skin I might turn into a bag. As I entered the forest I saw two roe-deer hopping on one foot, so I slew them with a single blow, and made three bags from their skins, all of which I filled with honey and placed on the back of the cock. At length I reached home, where I was told that my father had just been born, and that I must go at once to fetch some holy water to sprinkle him with. As I went I turned over in my mind if there was no way for me to get back my millet seed, which had dropped into the sea, and when I arrived at the place with the holy water I saw the seed had fallen on fruitful soil, and was growing before my eyes. And more than that, it was even cut by an invisible hand, and made into a cake.‘So I took the cake as well as the holy water, and was flying back with them over the sea, when there fell a great rain, and the sea was swollen, and swept away my millet cake. Ah, how vexed I was at its loss when I was safe on earth again.‘Suddenly I remembered that my hair was very long. If I stood it touched the ground, although if I was sitting it only reached my ears. I seized a knife and cut off a large lock, which I plaited together, and when night came tied it into a knot, and prepared to use it for a pillow. But what was I to do for a fire? A tinder box I had, but no wood. Then it occurred to me that I had stuck a needle in my clothes, so I took the needle and split it in pieces, and lit it, then laid myself down by the fire and went to sleep. But ill-luck still pursued me. While I was sleeping a spark from the fire lighted on the hair, which was burnt up in a moment. In despair I threw myself on the ground, and instantly sank in it as far as my waist. I struggled to get out, but only fell in further; so I ran to the house, seized a spade, dug myself out, and took home the holy water. On the way I noticed that the ripe fields were full of reapers, and suddenly the air became so frightfully hot that the men dropped down in a faint. Then I called to them, “Why don’t you bring out our mare, which is as tall as two days, and as broad as half a day, and make a shade for yourselves?” My father heard what I said and jumped quickly on the mare, and the reapers worked with a will in the shadow, while I snatched up a wooden pail to bring them some water to drink. When I got to the well everything was frozen hard, so in order to draw some water I had to take off my head and break the ice with it. As I drew near them, carrying the water, the reapers all cried out, “Why, what has become of your head?” I put up my hand and discovered that I really had no head, and that I must have left it in the well. I ran back to look for it, but found that meanwhile a fox which was passing by had pulled my head out of the water, and was tearing at my brains. I stole cautiously up to him, and gave him such a kick that he uttered a loud scream, and let fall a parchment on which was written, “The cake is mine, and the beardless one goes empty-handed.” ‘With these words the boy rose, took the cake, and went home, while the beardless one remained behind to swallow his disappointment.
A Cat heard that the Birds in an aviary were ailing. So he got himself up as a doctor, and, taking with him a set of the instruments proper to his profession, presented himself at the door, and inquired after the health of the Birds. “We shall do very well,” they replied, without letting him in, “when we’ve seen the last of you.”A villain may disguise himself, but he will not deceive the wise.
Once upon a time there was a princess in Trœzene, Aithra, the daughter of Pittheus the king. She had one fair son, named Theseus, the bravest lad in all the land; and Aithra never smiled but when she looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away. And she used to go up to the mountain above Trœzene, to the temple of Poseidon and sit there all day looking out across the bay, over Methana, to the purple peaks of Ægina and the Attic shore beyond. And when Theseus was full fifteen years old she took him up with her to the temple, and into the thickets of the grove which grew in the temple-yard. And she led him to a tall plane-tree, beneath whose shade grew arbutus, and lentisk, and purple heather-bushes. And there she sighed, and said, “Theseus, my son, go into that thicket, and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone; lift it, and bring me what lies underneath.”Then Theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and saw that they had not been moved for many a year. And searching among their roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy, and acanthus, and moss. He tried to lift it, but he could not. And he tried till the sweat ran down his brow from heat, and the tears from his eyes for shame: but all was of no avail. And at last he came back to his mother, and said, “I have found the stone, but I cannot lift it; nor do I think that any man could in all Trœzene.”Then she sighed, and said, “The Gods wait long; but they are just at last. Let it be for another year. The day may come when you will be a stronger man than lives in all Trœzene.”Then she took him by the hand, and went into the temple and prayed, and came down again with Theseus to her home.And when a full year was past she led Theseus up again to the temple, and bade him lift the stone: but he could not.Then she sighed, and said the same words again, and went down, and came again the next year; but Theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the year after; and he longed to ask his mother the meaning of that stone, and what might lie underneath it; but her face was so sad that he had not the heart to ask.So he said to himself, “The day shall surely come when I will lift that stone, though no man in Trœzene can.” And in order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling, and boxing, and hurling, and taming horses, and hunting the boar and the bull, and coursing goats and deer among the rocks; till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so swift as Theseus; and he killed Phaia, the wild sow of Crommuon, which wasted all the land; till all the people said, “Surely the Gods are with the lad.”And when his eighteenth year was past, Aithra led him up again to the temple, and said, “Theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who you are.” And Theseus went into the thicket, and stood over the stone, and tugged at it; and it moved. Then his spirit swelled within him, and he said, “If I break my heart in my body, it shall up.” And he tugged at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout.And when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze, with a hilt of glittering gold, and by it a pair of golden sandals; and he caught them up, and burst through the bushes like a wild boar, and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head.But when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in her shawl; and Theseus stood by her wondering, and wept also, he knew not why. And when she was tired of weeping, she lifted up her head, and laid her finger on her lips, and said, “Hide them in your bosom, Theseus my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea.”Then they went outside the sacred wall, and looked down over the bright blue sea; and Aithra said,—“Do you see this land at our feet?”And he said, “Yes; this is Trœzene, where I was born and bred.”And she said, “It is but a little land, barren and rocky, and looks towards the bleak northeast. Do you see that land beyond?”“Yes, that is Attica, where the Athenian people dwell.”“That is a fair land and large, Theseus my son; and it looks toward the sunny south; a land of olive-oil and honey, the joy of Gods and men. For the Gods have girdled it with mountains, whose veins are of pure silver, and their bones of marble white as snow; and there the hills are sweet with thyme and basil, and the meadows with violet and asphodel, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets, by the side of ever-flowing streams. There are twelve towns well peopled, the homes of an ancient race, the children of Kekrops the serpent king, the son of Mother Earth, who wear gold cicalas among the tresses of their golden hair; for like the cicalas they sprang from the earth, and like the cicalas they sing all day, rejoicing in the genial sun. What would you do, son Theseus, if you were king of such a land?”Then Theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright sea, and saw the fair Attic shore, from Sunium to Hymettus and Pentelicus, and all the mountain peaks which girdle Athens round. But Athens itself he could not see, for purple Ægina stood before it, midway across the sea.Then his heart grew great within him, and he said, “If I were king of such a land, I would rule it wisely and well in wisdom and in might, that when I died all men might weep over my tomb, and cry, ‘Alas for the shepherd of his people!’ ”And Aithra smiled, and said, “Take, then, the sword and the sandals, and go to Ægeus king of Athens, who lives on Pallas’s hill; and say to him, ‘The stone is lifted, but whose is the pledge beneath it?’ Then show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the Gods shall send.”But Theseus wept—”Shall I leave you, O my mother?”But she answered, “Weep not for me. That which is fated must be; and grief is easy to those who do nought but grieve. Full of sorrow was my youth, and full of sorrow my womanhood. Full of sorrow was my youth for Bellerophon, the slayer of the Chimæra, whom my father drove away by treason; and full of sorrow my womanhood, for thy treacherous father and for thee; and full of sorrow my old age will be (for I see my fate in dreams,) when the sons of the Swan shall carry me captive to the hollow vale of Eurotas, till I sail across the seas a slave, the handmaid of the pest of Greece. Yet shall I be avenged, when the golden-haired heroes sail against Troy, and sack the palaces of Ilium; then my son shall set me free from thraldom, and I shall hear the tale of Theseus’s fame. Yet beyond that I see new sorrows; but I can bear them as I have borne the past.”Then she kissed Theseus, and wept over him; and went into the temple, and Theseus saw her no more.
An old man on the point of death summoned his sons around him to give them some parting advice. He ordered his servants to bring in a bundle of sticks, and said to his eldest son: “Break it.” The son strained and strained, but with all his efforts was unable to break the Bundle. The other sons also tried, but none of them was successful. “Untie the bundle,” said the father, “and each of you take a stick.” When they had done so, he called out to them: “Now, break,” and each stick was easily broken. “You see my meaning,” said their father. Union gives strength.
One day when a mother was pounding out rice to cook for supper, her little girl ran up to her and cried:“Oh, Mother, give me some of the raw rice to eat.”“No,” said the mother, “it is not good for you to eat until it is cooked. Wait for supper.”But the little girl persisted until the mother, out of patience, cried:“Be still. It is not good for you to talk so much!”When she had finished pounding the rice, the woman poured it into a rice winnower and tossed it many times into the air. As soon as the chaff was removed she emptied the rice into her basket and covered it with the winnower. Then she took the jar upon her head, and started for the spring to get water.Now the little girl was fond of going to the spring with her mother, for she loved to play in the cool water while her mother filled the jars. But this time she did not go, and as soon as the woman was out of sight, she ran to the basket of rice. She reached down to take a handful of the grain. The cover slipped so that she fell, and was covered up in the basket.When the mother returned to the house, she heard a bird crying, “King, king, nik! nik! nik!” She listened carefully, and as the sound seemed to come from the basket, she removed the cover. To her surprise, out hopped a little brown rice bird, and as it flew away it kept calling back:“Goodbye, Mother; goodbye, Mother. You would not give me any rice to eat.”
Down near the Indian village of Laguna, there is a big sandstone rock over-hanging the roadside. Once upon a time a little lizard lived on the sunny side of this big rock. She was a happy little lizard and sang songs all day long.One day a fox was going along the road and he heard the lizard singing:Now everything nice or pretty that anybody else has, the fox immediately wants, so he wanted the lizard’s song. “I must get the lizard to teach me that song,” so up on the rock he jumped to find the little lizard.“Good morning, my friend,” said the fox, “this is a beautiful day, and your song sounded so fine that I wish you would teach it to me.”“With pleasure,” replied the obliging lizard and she sang the song over and over until the fox said he knew it.“Thank you my friend,” said he, “and now good-day, for I must be off to hunt my dinner,” and away he trotted down the road singing as he went, “Mo-ki, mo-ki, mo-ki – .”He came to a small pond where a flock of wild ducks were feeding on the grass seeds. He did not see the ducks, but they saw him and they flew up suddenly out of the water flapping their wings and quacking. The noise frightened the fox so much that he forgot his song. Try as hard as he might, he could remember only the first part.He went running back to the lizard’s house on the big rock. “My friend, I have forgotten the song you taught me; won’t you please sing it again for me?”The little lizard sang it again and once more the fox trotted down the road singing:“Mo-ki mo-ki mo-o-ki,Mo-ki mo-ki mo-o-ki,Hanging rock is here. Hanging rock is here. A happy home for me.Unhum unhum.”But he had not gone very far before a rabbit suddenly jumped across his path from behind a bush. The rabbit startled him so that again he forgot the song he was singing.So a third time the fox went to find the lizard. This time he found her asleep in the warm sunshine. “I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Lizard, but I have forgotten my song again and I want you to teach it to me once more.”But the sleepy little lizard did not answer.“I will ask you four times to sing,” growled the fox, “and if you do not sing, I will eat you up.”The little lizard kept her eyes closed and paid no attention to him. The fox asked her four times to sing, and then he opened his big mouth and swallowed her down.The warm sun on the rock made the fox sleepy too, so he lay down and went to sleep. While he was sleeping, the little lizard took a knife out of a pocket in her skin, with which she removes her old skin for a new skin dress each year, and she cut and cut the fox’s side until she cut a hole big enough to slip out through. Then she took a sharp rock and put it inside the fox where she had been. After that she took a piece of sinew thread from her pocket and sewed the fox’s side together again. Then she ran quietly home.All this time the fox was fast asleep. When he awoke he felt thirsty, so he trotted back to the little pond for a drink. The stone in his side cut and felt very uncomfortable; and when he leaned down to drink, it overbalanced him and he fell, splash, down into the deep water and drowned.
The Indians loved our lakes. They had eyes for their beauty, and to them they were abodes of gracious spirits. They used to say of Oneida Lake, that when the Great Spirit formed the world “his smile rested on its waters and Frenchman’s Island rose to greet it; he laughed and Lotus Island came up to listen.” So they built lodges on their shores and skimmed their waters in canoes. Much of their history relates to them, and this is a tale of the Senecas that was revived a few years ago by the discovery of a deer-skin near Lakes Waneta and Keuka, New York, on which some facts of the history were rudely drawn, for all Indians are artists.Waneta, daughter of a chief, had plighted her troth to Kayuta, a hunter of a neighboring tribe with which her people were at war. Their tryst was held at twilight on the farther shore of the lake from her village, and it was her gayety and happiness, after these meetings had taken place, that roused the suspicion and jealousy of Weutha, who had marked her for his bride against the time when he should have won her father’s consent by some act of bravery. Shadowing the girl as she stole into the forest one evening, he saw her enter her canoe and row to a densely wooded spot; he heard a call like the note of a quail, then an answer; then Kayuta emerged on the shore, lifted the maiden from her little bark, and the twain sat down beside the water to listen to the lap of its waves and watch the stars come out.Hurrying back to camp, the spy reported that an enemy was near them, and although Waneta had regained her wigwam by another route before the company of warriors had reached the lake, Kayuta was seen, pursued, and only escaped with difficulty. Next evening, not knowing what had happened after her homeward departure on the previous night—for the braves deemed it best to keep the knowledge of their military operations from the women—the girl crept away to the lake again and rowed to the accustomed place, but while waiting for the quail call a twig dropped on the water beside her. With a quick instinct that civilization has spoiled she realized this to be a warning, and remaining perfectly still, she allowed her boat to drift toward shore, presently discovering that her lover was standing waist-deep in the water. In a whisper he told her that they were watched, and bade her row to a dead pine that towered at the foot of the lake, where he would soon meet her. At that instant an arrow grazed his side and flew quivering into the canoe.Pushing the boat on its course and telling her to hasten, Kayuta sprang ashore, sounded the warwhoop, and as Weutha rose into sight he clove his skull with a tomahawk. Two other braves now leaped forward, but, after a struggle, Kayuta left them dead or senseless, too. He would have stayed to tear their scalps off had he not heard his name uttered in a shriek of agony from the end of the lake, and, tired and bleeding though he was, he bounded along its margin like a deer, for the voice that he heard was Waneta’s. He reached the blasted pine, gave one look, and sank to the earth. Presently other Indians came, who had heard the noise of fighting, and burst upon him with yells and brandished weapons, but something in his look restrained them from a close advance. His eyes were fixed on a string of beads that lay on the bottom of the lake, just off shore, and when the meaning of it came to them, the savages thought no more of killing, but moaned their grief; for Waneta, in stepping from her canoe to wade ashore, had been caught and swallowed by a quagmire. All night and all next day Kayuta sat there like a man of stone. Then, just as the hour fell when he was used to meet his love, his heart broke, and he joined her in the spiritland.
There was once a poor prince who had a kingdom, but it was a very small one. Still it was quite large enough to admit of his marrying, and he wished to marry.It was certainly rather bold of him to say, as he did, to the emperor’s daughter, “Will you have me?” But he was renowned far and wide, and there were a hundred princesses who would have answered, “Yes,” and, “Thank you kindly.” We shall see what this princess said. Listen!It happened that where the prince’s father lay buried there grew a rose tree, a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in five years, and even then bore only one flower. Ah, but that was a rose! It smelled so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by those who inhaled its fragrance!Moreover, the prince had a nightingale that could sing in such a manner that it seemed as if all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. Now the princess was to have the rose and the nightingale; and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets and sent to her.The emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the princess and the ladies of the court were playing at “Visiting.” When she saw the caskets with the presents, the princess clapped her hands for joy.“Ah, if it should be a little pussy cat,” exclaimed she. Instead, the rose tree, with its beautiful rose, came to view.“Oh, how prettily it is made!” said all the court ladies.“It is more than pretty,” said the emperor; “it is charming.”The princess touched it and was ready to cry. “Fie, papa,” said she, “it is not made at all. It is natural!”“Fie,” said all the court ladies; “it is natural!”“Let us see what the other casket contains before we get into bad humor,” proposed the emperor. So the nightingale came forth, and sang so delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.“Superbe! charmant!” exclaimed the ladies, for they all used to chatter French, and each worse than her neighbor.“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed empress!” remarked an old knight. “Oh! yes, these are the same tunes, the same execution.”“Yes, yes!” said the emperor, and at the remembrance he wept like a child.“I still hope it is not a real bird,” said the princess.“Yes, it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it.“Well, then, let the bird fly,” returned the princess. And she positively refused to see the prince.However, he was not to be discouraged. He stained his face brown and black, pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door of the castle.“Good day to my lord the emperor,” said he. “Can I have employment here at the palace?”“Why, yes,” said the emperor. “It just occurs to me that I want some one to take care of the pigs, there are so many of them.”So the prince came to be the imperial swineherd.He had a miserable little room, close by the pigsty, and here he was obliged to stay; and he sat the whole day long and worked. By evening he had made a pretty little saucepan. Little bells were hung all around it; and when the pot was boiling, the bells tinkled in the most charming manner, and played the old melody,“Ach, du lieber Augustin,Alles ist weg, weg, weg.”But what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of this saucepan, at once smelled all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth of the city. This, you see, was something quite different from the rose.Now the princess happened to walk that way with her court ladies, and when she heard the tune she stood quite still and seemed pleased, for she could play “Dearest Augustine.” It was the only piece she knew, and she played it with one finger.“Why, that is the piece that I play on the piano!” said the princess. “That swineherd must certainly have been well educated. Go in and ask him the price of the instrument.”So one of the court ladies had to go in, but she drew on wooden slippers first.“What will you take for the saucepan?” inquired the lady.“I must have ten kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd.“Heaven preserve us!” exclaimed the maid of honor.“I cannot sell it for less,” answered the swineherd.“Well, what does he say?” asked the princess.“I cannot tell you, really,” replied the lady. “It is too dreadful.”“Then you may whisper it.” So the lady whispered it.“He is an impudent fellow,” said the princess, and she walked on. But when she had gone a little way, the bells again tinkled prettily,“Ah! thou dearest Augustine,All is gone, gone, gone.”“Stay!” said the princess. “Ask him if he will have ten kisses from the ladies of my court.”“No, thank you!” answered the swineherd. “Ten kisses from the princess, or I keep the saucepan myself.”“How tiresome! That must not be either!” said the princess; “but do you all stand before me, that no one may see us.”The court ladies placed themselves in front of her, and spread out their dresses. So the swineherd got ten kisses, and the princess got the saucepan.That was delightful! The saucepan was kept boiling all the evening and the whole of the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking on every hearth in the city, from the chamberlain’s to the cobbler’s. The court ladies danced and clapped their hands.“We know who has soup, and who has pancakes for dinner to-day; who has cutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting!”“Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an emperor’s daughter.”The prince—that is, the swineherd, for no one knew that he was other than an ill-favored swineherd—let not a day pass without working at something. At last he constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung round and round, played all the waltzes and jig tunes which have been heard since the creation of the world.“Ah, that is superbe!” said the princess, when she passed by. “I have never heard prettier compositions. Go in and ask him the price of the instrument. But mind, he shall have no more kisses.”“He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,” said the lady who had been to ask.“He is not in his right senses,” said the princess, and walked on. But when she had gone a little way she stopped again. “One must encourage art,” said she; “I am the emperor’s daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of the court.”“Oh, but we should not like that at all,” said the ladies.“What are you muttering?” asked the princess. “If I can kiss him, surely you can! Remember I give you food and wages.”“A hundred kisses from the princess,” said he, “or else let every one keep his own.”“Stand round,” said she, and all the ladies stood round as before.“What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?” asked the emperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles.“They are the ladies of the court. I must go and see what they are about.” So he pulled up his slippers at the heel, for he had trodden them down.As soon as he had got into the courtyard he moved very softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses that they did not perceive the emperor. He rose on his tiptoes.“What is all this?” said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed the princess’s ear with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the eighty-sixth kiss.“Be off with you! March out!” cried the emperor, for he was very angry. Both princess and swineherd were thrust out of the city, and the princess stood and wept, while the swineherd scolded, and the rain poured down.“Alas, unhappy creature that I am!” said the princess. “If I had but married the handsome young prince! Ah, how unfortunate I am!”The swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown from his face, threw off his dirty clothing, and stepped forth in his princely robes. He looked so noble that the princess could not help bowing before him.“I have come to despise thee,” said he. “Thou wouldst not have an honorable prince! Thou couldst not prize the rose and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art rightly served.”He then went back to his own little kingdom, where he shut the door of his palace before her very eyes. Now she might well sing,“Ah! thou dearest Augustine,All is gone, gone, gone.”
There was once upon a time a tailor who had three sons, and only one goat. But as the goat supported the whole of them with her milk, she was obliged to have good food, and to be taken every day to pasture. The sons, therefore, did this, in turn. Once the eldest took her to the churchyard, where the finest herbs were to be found, and let her eat and run about there. At night when it was time to go home he asked, “Goat, hast thou had enough?” The goat answered,“I have eaten so much,Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”“Come home, then,” said the youth, and took hold of the cord round her neck, led her into the stable and tied her up securely. “Well,” said the old tailor, “has the goat had as much food as she ought?” “Oh,” answered the son, “she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she’ll touch.” But the father wished to satisfy himself, and went down to the stable, stroked the dear animal and asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?” The goat answered,“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?Among the graves I leapt about,And found no food, so went without, meh! meh!”“What do I hear?” cried the tailor, and ran upstairs and said to the youth, “Hollo, thou liar: thou saidest the goat had had enough, and hast let her hunger!” and in his anger he took the yard- measure from the wall, and drove him out with blows.Next day it was the turn of the second son, who looked out for a place in the fence of the garden, where nothing but good herbs grew, and the goat cleared them all off. At night when he wanted to go home, he asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?” The goat answered,“I have eaten so much,Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”“Come home, then,” said the youth, and led her home, and tied her up in the stable. “Well,” said the old tailor, “has the goat had as much food as she ought?” “Oh,” answered the son, “she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she’ll touch.” The tailor would not rely on this, but went down to the stable and said, “Goat, hast thou had enough?” The goat answered,“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?Among the graves I leapt about,And found no food, so went without, meh! meh!”“The godless wretch!” cried the tailor, “to let such a good animal hunger,” and he ran up and drove the youth out of doors with the yard-measure.Now came the turn of the third son, who wanted to do the thing well, and sought out some bushes with the finest leaves, and let the goat devour them. In the evening when he wanted to go home, he asked, “Goat, hast thou had enough?” The goat answered,“I have eaten so much,Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”“Come home, then,” said the youth, and led her into the stable, and tied her up. “Well,” said the old tailor, “has the goat had a proper amount of food?” “She has eaten so much, not a leaf more she’ll touch.” The tailor did not trust to that, but went down and asked, “Goat, hast thou had enough?” The wicked beast answered,“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?Among the graves I leapt about,And found no leaves, so went without, meh! meh!”“Oh, the brood of liars!” cried the tailor, “each as wicked and forgetful of his duty as the other! Ye shall no longer make a fool of me,” and, quite beside himself with anger, he ran upstairs and belaboured the poor young fellow so vigorously with the yard-measure that he sprang out of the house.The old tailor was now alone with his goat. Next morning he went down into the stable, caressed the goat and said, “Come, my dear little animal, I will take thee to feed myself.” He took her by the rope and conducted her to green hedges, and amongst milfoil, and whatever else goats like to eat. “There thou mayest for once eat to thy heart’s content,” said he to her, and let her browse till evening. Then he asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?” she replied,“I have eaten so much,Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”“Come home, then,” said the tailor, and led her into the stable, and tied her fast. When he was going away, he turned round again and said, “Well, art thou satisfied for once?” But the goat did not behave better to him, and cried,“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?Among the graves I leapt about,And found no leaves, so went without, meh! meh!”When the tailor heard that, he was shocked, and saw clearly that he had driven away his three sons without cause. “Wait, thou ungrateful creature,” cried he, “it is not enough to drive thee forth, I will mark thee so that thou wilt no more dare to show thyself amongst honest tailors.” In great haste he ran upstairs, fetched his razor, lathered the goat’s head, and shaved her as clean as the palm of his hand. And as the yard-measure would have been too good for her, he brought the horsewhip, and gave her such cuts with it that she ran away in violent haste.When the tailor was thus left quite alone in his house he fell into great grief, and would gladly have had his sons back again, but no one knew whither they were gone. The eldest had apprenticed himself to a joiner, and learnt industriously and indefatigably, and when the time came for him to go traveling, his master presented him with a little table which had no particular appearance, and was made of common wood, but it had one good property; if any one set it out, and said, “Little table, spread thyself,” the good little table was at once covered with a clean little cloth, and a plate was there, and a knife and fork beside it, and dishes with boiled meats and roasted meats, as many as there was room for, and a great glass of red wine shone so that it made the heart glad. The young journeyman thought, “With this thou hast enough for thy whole life,” and went joyously about the world and never troubled himself at all whether an inn was good or bad, or if anything was to be found in it or not. When it suited him he did not enter an inn at all, but either in the plain, in a wood, a meadow, or wherever he fancied, he took his little table off his back, set it down before him, and said, “Cover thyself,” and then everything appeared that his heart desired. At length he took it into his head to go back to his father, whose anger would now be appeased, and who would now willingly receive him with his wishing-table. It came to pass that on his way home, he came one evening to an inn which was filled with guests. They bade him welcome, and invited him to sit and eat with them, for otherwise he would have difficulty in getting anything. “No,” answered the joiner, “I will not take the few bites out of your mouths; rather than that, you shall be my guests.” They laughed, and thought he was jesting with them; he, however, placed his wooden table in the middle of the room, and said, “Little table, cover thyself.” Instantly it was covered with food, so good that the host could never have procured it, and the smell of it ascended pleasantly to the nostrils of the guests. “Fall to, dear friends,” said the joiner; and the guests when they saw that he meant it, did not need to be asked twice, but drew near, pulled out their knives and attacked it valiantly. And what surprised them the most was that when a dish became empty, a full one instantly took its place of its own accord. The innkeeper stood in one corner and watched the affair; he did not at all know what to say, but thought, “Thou couldst easily find a use for such a cook as that in thy kitchen.” The joiner and his comrades made merry until late into the night; at length they lay down to sleep, and the young apprentice also went to bed, and set his magic table against the wall. The host’s thoughts, however, let him have no rest; it occurred to him that there was a little old table in his lumber- room, which looked just like the apprentice’s, and he brought it out quite softly, and exchanged it for the wishing-table. Next morning, the joiner paid for his bed, took up his table, never thinking that he had got a false one, and went his way. At mid-day he reached his father, who received him with great joy. “Well, my dear son, what hast thou learnt?” said he to him. “Father, I have become a joiner.”“A good trade,” replied the old man; “but what hast thou brought back with thee from thy apprenticeship?” “Father, the best thing which I have brought back with me is this little table.” The tailor inspected it on all sides and said, “Thou didst not make a masterpiece when thou mad’st that; it is a bad old table.” “But it is a table which furnishes itself,” replied the son. “When I set it out, and tell it to cover itself, the most beautiful dishes stand on it, and a wine also, which gladdens the heart. Just invite all our relations and friends, they shall refresh and enjoy themselves for once, for the table will give them all they require.” When the company was assembled, he put his table in the middle of the room and said, “Little table, cover thyself,” but the little table did not bestir itself, and remained just as bare as any other table which did not understand language. Then the poor apprentice became aware that his table had been changed, and was ashamed at having to stand there like a liar. The relations, however, mocked him, and were forced to go home without having eaten or drunk. The father brought out his patches again, and went on tailoring, but the son went to a master in the craft.The second son had gone to a miller and had apprenticed himself to him. When his years were over, the master said, “As thou hast conducted thyself so well, I give thee an ass of a peculiar kind, which neither draws a cart nor carries a sack.” “To what use is he put, then?” asked the young apprentice. “He lets gold drop from his mouth,” answered the miller. “If thou settest him on a cloth and sayest ‘Bricklebrit,’ the good animal will drop gold pieces for thee.” “That is a fine thing,” said the apprentice, and thanked the master, and went out into the world. When he had need of gold, he had only to say “Bricklebrit” to his ass, and it rained gold pieces, and he had nothing to do but pick them off the ground. Wheresoever he went, the best of everything was good enough for him, and the dearer the better, for he had always a full purse. When he had looked about the world for some time, he thought, “Thou must seek out thy father, if thou goest to him with the gold-ass he will forget his anger, and receive thee well.” It came to pass that he came to the same public-house in which his brother’s table had been exchanged. He led his ass by the bridle, and the host was about to take the animal from him and tie him up, but the young apprentice said, “Don’t trouble yourself, I will take my grey horse into the stable, and tie him up myself too, for I must know where he stands.” This struck the host as odd, and he thought that a man who was forced to look after his ass himself, could not have much to spend; but when the stranger put his hand in his pocket and brought out two gold pieces, and said he was to provide something good for him, the host opened his eyes wide, and ran and sought out the best he could muster. After dinner the guest asked what he owed. The host did not see why he should not double the reckoning, and said the apprentice must give two more gold pieces. He felt in his pocket, but his gold was just at an end. “Wait an instant, sir host,” said he, “I will go and fetch some money;” but he took the table-cloth with him. The host could not imagine what this could mean, and being curious, stole after him, and as the guest bolted the stable-door, he peeped through a hole left by a knot in the wood. The stranger spread out the cloth under the animal and cried, “Bricklebrit,” and immediately the beast began to let gold pieces fall, so that it fairly rained down money on the ground. “Eh, my word,” said the host, “ducats are quickly coined there! A purse like that is not amiss.” The guest paid his score, and went to bed, but in the night the host stole down into the stable, led away the master of the mint, and tied up another ass in his place. Early next morning the apprentice travelled away with his ass, and thought that he had his gold- ass. At mid-day he reached his father, who rejoiced to see him again, and gladly took him in. “What hast thou made of thyself, my son?” asked the old man. “A miller, dear father,” he answered. “What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?” “Nothing else but an ass.” “There are asses enough here,” said the father, “I would rather have had a good goat.” “Yes,” replied the son, “but it is no common ass, but a gold-ass, when I say ‘Bricklebrit,’ the good beast opens its mouth and drops a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just summon all our relations hither, and I will make them rich folks.” “That suits me well,” said the tailor, “for then I shall have no need to torment myself any longer with the needle,” and ran out himself and called the relations together. As soon as they were assembled, the miller bade them make way, spread out his cloth, and brought the ass into the room. “Now watch,” said he, and cried, “Bricklebrit,” but no gold pieces fell, and it was clear that the animal knew nothing of the art, for every ass does not attain such perfection. Then the poor miller pulled a long face, saw that he was betrayed, and begged pardon of the relatives, who went home as poor as they came. There was no help for it, the old man had to betake him to his needle once more, and the youth hired himself to a miller.The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and as that is skilled labour, he was the longest in learning. His brothers, however, told him in a letter how badly things had gone with them, and how the inn-keeper had cheated them of their beautiful wishing-gifts on the last evening before they reached home. When the turner had served his time, and had to set out on his travels, as he had conducted himself so well, his master presented him with a sack and said, “There is a cudgel in it.” “I can put on the sack,” said he, “and it may be of good service to me, but why should the cudgel be in it? It only makes it heavy.” “I will tell thee why,” replied the master; “if any one has done anything to injure thee, do but say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ and the cudgel will leap forth among the people, and play such a dance on their backs that they will not be able to stir or move for a week, and it will not leave off until thou sayest, “Into the sack, Cudgel!” The apprentice thanked him, put the sack on his back, and when any one came too near him, and wished to attack him, he said, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!” and instantly the cudgel sprang out, and dusted the coat or jacket of one after the other on their backs, and never stopped until it had stripped it off them, and it was done so quickly, that before any one was aware, it was already his own turn. In the evening the young turner reached the inn where his brothers had been cheated. He laid his sack on the table before him, and began to talk of all the wonderful things which he had seen in the world. “Yes,” said he, “people may easily find a table which will cover itself, a gold-ass, and things of that kind extremely good things which I by no means despise but these are nothing in comparison with the treasure which I have won for myself, and am carrying about with me in my sack there.” The inn-keeper pricked up his ears, “What in the world can that be?” thought he; “the sack must be filled with nothing but jewels; I ought to get them cheap too, for all good things go in threes.” When it was time for sleep, the guest stretched himself on the bench, and laid his sack beneath him for a pillow. When the inn-keeper thought his guest was lying in a sound sleep, he went to him and pushed and pulled quite gently and carefully at the sack to see if he could possibly draw it away and lay another in its place. The turner had, however, been waiting for this for a long time, and now just as the inn-keeper was about to give a hearty tug, he cried, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!” Instantly the little cudgel came forth, and fell on the inn-keeper, and gave him a sound thrashing.The host cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, so much more heavily the cudgel beat the time on his back, until at length he fell to the ground exhausted. Then the turner said, “If thou dost not give back the table which covers itself, and the gold-ass, the dance shall begin afresh.” “Oh, no,” cried the host, quite humbly, “I will gladly produce everything, only make the accursed kobold creep back into the sack.” Then said the apprentice, “I will let mercy take the place of justice, but beware of getting into mischief again!” So he cried, “Into the sack, Cudgel!” and let him have rest.Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table, and the gold-ass. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and asked him likewise what he had learned in foreign parts. “Dear father,” said he, “I have become a turner.” “A skilled trade,” said the father. “What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?”“A precious thing, dear father,” replied the son, “a cudgel in the sack.”“What!” cried the father, “a cudgel! That’s worth thy trouble, indeed! From every tree thou can cut thyself one.” “But not one like this, dear father. If I say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ the cudgel springs out and leads any one who means ill with me a weary dance, and never stops until he lies on the ground and prays for fair weather. Look you, with this cudgel have I got back the wishing-table and the gold-ass which the thievish inn-keeper took away from my brothers. Now let them both be sent for, and invite all our kinsmen. I will give them to eat and to drink, and will fill their pockets with gold into the bargain.” The old tailor would not quite believe, but nevertheless got the relatives together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in the gold-ass, and said to his brother, “Now, dear brother, speak to him.” The miller said, “Bricklebrit,” and instantly the gold pieces fell down on the cloth like a thunder-shower, and the ass did not stop until every one of them had so much that he could carry no more. (I can see in thy face that thou also wouldst like to be there.)Then the turner brought the little table, and said, “Now, dear brother, speak to it.” And scarcely had the carpenter said, “Table, cover thyself,” than it was spread and amply covered with the most exquisite dishes. Then such a meal took place as the good tailor had never yet known in his house, and the whole party of kinsmen stayed together till far in the night, and were all merry and glad. The tailor locked away needle and thread, yard-measure and goose, in a press, and lived with his three sons in joy and splendour.(What, however, has become of the goat who was to blame for the tailor driving out his three sons? That I will tell thee. She was ashamed that she had a bald head, and ran to a fox’s hole and crept into it. When the fox came home, he was met by two great eyes shining out of the darkness, and was terrified and ran away. A bear met him, and as the fox looked quite disturbed, he said, “What is the matter with thee, brother Fox, why dost thou look like that?” “Ah,” answered Redskin, “a fierce beast is in my cave and stared at me with its fiery eyes.” “We will soon drive him out,” said the bear, and went with him to the cave and looked in, but when he saw the fiery eyes, fear seized on him likewise; he would have nothing to do with the furious beast, and took to his heels. The bee met him, and as she saw that he was ill at ease, she said, “Bear, thou art really pulling a very pitiful face; what has become of all thy gaiety?” “It is all very well for thee to talk,” replied the bear, “a furious beast with staring eyes is in Redskin’s house, and we can’t drive him out.” The bee said, “Bear, I pity thee, I am a poor weak creature whom thou wouldst not turn aside to look at, but still, I believe, I can help thee.” She flew into the fox’s cave, lighted on the goat’s smoothly-shorn head, and stung her so violently, that she sprang up, crying “Meh, meh,” and ran forth into the world as if mad, and to this hour no one knows where she has gone.)
One moonlight night a Fox was prowling about a farmer’s hen-coop, and saw a Cock roosting high up beyond his reach. “Good news, good news!” he cried. “Why, what is that?” said the Cock. “King Lion has declared a universal truce. No beast may hurt a bird henceforth, but all shall dwell together in brotherly friendship.” “Why, that is good news,” said the Cock; “and there I see some one coming, with whom we can share the good tidings.” And so saying he craned his neck forward and looked afar off. “What is it you see?” said the Fox. “It is only my master’s Dog that is coming towards us. What, going so soon?” he continued, as the Fox began to turn away as soon as he had heard the news. “Will you not stop and congratulate the Dog on the reign of universal peace?” “I would gladly do so,” said the Fox, “but I fear he may not have heard of King Lion’s decree.” Cunning often outwits itself.
There were once a little brother and a little sister, who loved each other with all their hearts. Their own mother was, however, dead, and they had a step mother, who was not kind to them, and secretly did everything she could to hurt them. It so happened that the two were playing with other children in a meadow before the house, and there was a pond in the meadow which came up to one side of the house. The children ran about it, and caught each other, and played at counting out.“Eneke Beneke, let me live,And I to thee my bird will give.The little bird, it straw shall seek,The straw I’ll give to the cow to eat.The pretty cow shall give me milk,The milk I’ll to the baker take.The baker he shall bake a cake,The cake I’ll give unto the cat.The cat shall catch some mice for that,The mice I’ll hang up in the smoke,And then you’ll see the snow.”They stood in a circle while they played this, and the one to whom the word snow fell, had to run away and all the others ran after him and caught him. As they were running about so merrily the step mother watched them from the window, and grew angry. And as she understood arts of witchcraft she bewitched them both, and changed the little brother into a fish, and the little sister into a lamb. Then the fish swam here and there about the pond and was very sad, and the lambkin walked up and down the meadow, and was miserable, and could not eat or touch one blade of grass. Thus passed a long time, and then strangers came as visitors to the castle. The false step mother thought, “This is a good opportunity,” and called the cook and said to him, “Go and fetch the lamb from the meadow and kill it, we have nothing else for the visitors.” Then the cook went away and got the lamb, and took it into the kitchen and tied its feet, and all this it bore patiently. When he had drawn out his knife and was whetting it on the door step to kill the lamb, he noticed a little fish swimming backwards and forwards in the water, in front of the kitchen-sink and looking up at him. This, however, was the brother, for when the fish saw the cook take the lamb away, it followed them and swam along the pond to the house; then the lamb cried down to it,“Ah, brother, in the pond so deep,How sad is my poor heart!Even now the cook he whets his knifeTo take away my tender life.”The little fish answered,“Ah, little sister, up on high,How sad is my poor heartWhile in this pond I lie.”When the cook heard that the lambkin could speak and said such sad words to the fish down below, he was terrified and thought this could be no common lamb, but must be bewitched by the wicked woman in the house. Then said he, “Be easy, I will not kill thee,” and took another sheep and made it ready for the guests, and conveyed the lambkin to a good peasant woman, to whom he related all that he had seen and heard.The peasant was, however, the very woman who had been foster mother to the little sister, and she suspected at once who the lamb was, and went with it to a wise woman. Then the wise woman pronounced a blessing over the lambkin and the little fish, by means of which they regained their human forms, and after this she took them both into a little hut in a great forest, where they lived alone, but were contented and happy.
A slave named Androcles once escaped from his master and fled to the forest. As he was wandering about there he came upon a Lion lying down moaning and groaning. At first he turned to flee, but finding that the Lion did not pursue him, he turned back and went up to him. As he came near, the Lion put out his paw, which was all swollen and bleeding, and Androcles found that a huge thorn had got into it, and was causing all the pain. He pulled out the thorn and bound up the paw of the Lion, who was soon able to rise and lick the hand of Androcles like a dog.Then the Lion took Androcles to his cave, and every day used to bring him meat from which to live. But shortly afterwards both Androcles and the Lion were captured, and the slave was sentenced to be thrown to the Lion, after the latter had been kept without food for several days. The Emperor and all his Court came to see the spectacle, and Androcles was led out into the middle of the arena. Soon the Lion was let loose from his den, and rushed bounding and roaring towards his victim.But as soon as he came near to Androcles he recognised his friend, and fawned upon him, and licked his hands like a friendly dog. The Emperor, surprised at this, summoned Androcles to him, who told him the whole story. Whereupon the slave was pardoned and freed, and the Lion let loose to his native forest. Gratitude is the sign of noble souls.
A monkey, looking very sad and dejected, was walking along the bank of the river one day when he met a turtle.“How are you?” asked the turtle, noticing that he looked sad.The monkey replied, “Oh, my friend, I am very hungry. The squash of Mr. Farmer were all taken by the other monkeys, and now I am about to die from want of food.”“Do not be discouraged,” said the turtle; “take a bolo and follow me and we will steal some banana plants.”So they walked along together until they found some nice plants which they dug up, and then they looked for a place to set them. Finally the monkey climbed a tree and planted his in it, but as the turtle could not climb he dug a hole in the ground and set his there.When their work was finished they went away, planning what they should do with their crop. The monkey said:“When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and have a great deal of money.”And the turtle said: “When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and buy three varas of cloth to wear in place of this cracked shell.”A few weeks later they went back to the place to see their plants and found that that of the monkey was dead, for its roots had had no soil in the tree, but that of the turtle was tall and bearing fruit.“I will climb to the top so that we can get the fruit,” said the monkey. And he sprang up the tree, leaving the poor turtle on the ground alone.“Please give me some to eat,” called the turtle, but the monkey threw him only a green one and ate all the ripe ones himself.When he had eaten all the good bananas, the monkey stretched his arms around the tree and went to sleep. The turtle, seeing this, was very angry and considered how he might punish the thief. Having decided on a scheme, he gathered some sharp bamboo which he stuck all around under the tree, and then he exclaimed:“Crocodile is coming! Crocodile is coming!”The monkey was so startled at the cry that he fell upon the sharp bamboo and was killed.Then the turtle cut the dead monkey into pieces, put salt on it, and dried it in the sun. The next day, he went to the mountains and sold his meat to other monkeys who gladly gave him squash in return. As he was leaving them he called back:“Lazy fellows, you are now eating your own body; you are now eating your own body.”Then the monkeys ran and caught him and carried him to their own home.“Let us take a hatchet,” said one old monkey, “and cut him into very small pieces.”But the turtle laughed and said: “That is just what I like, I have been struck with a hatchet many times. Do you not see the black scars on my shell?”Then one of the other monkeys said: “Let us throw him into the water,”At this the turtle cried and begged them to spare his life, but they paid no heed to his pleadings and threw him into the water. He sank to the bottom, but very soon came up with a lobster. The monkeys were greatly surprised at this and begged him to tell them how to catch lobsters.“I tied one end of a string around my waist,” said the turtle. “To the other end of the string I tied a stone so that I would sink.”The monkeys immediately tied strings around themselves as the turtle said, and when all was ready they plunged into the water never to come up again.And to this day monkeys do not like to eat meat, because they remember the ancient story.
Once upon a time the little hen went with the little cock to the nut-hill, and they agreed together that whichsoever of them found a kernel of a nut should share it with the other. Then the hen found a large, large nut, but said nothing about it, intending to eat the kernel herself. The kernel, however, was so large that she could not swallow it, and it remained sticking in her throat, so that she was alarmed lest she should be choked.Then she cried, “Cock, I entreat thee to run as fast thou canst, and fetch me some water, or I shall choke.” The little cock did run as fast as he could to the spring, and said, “Stream, thou art to give me some water; the little hen is lying on the nut- hill, and she has swallowed a large nut, and is choking.”The well answered, “First run to the bride, and get her to give thee some red silk.”The little cock ran to the bride and said, “Bride, you are to give me some red silk; I want to give red silk to the well, the well is to give me some water, I am to take the water to the little hen who is lying on the nut-hill and has swallowed a great nut-kernel, and is choking with it.”The bride answered, “First run and bring me my little wreath which is hanging to a willow.”So the little cock ran to the willow, and drew the wreath from the branch and took it to the bride, and the bride gave him some red silk for it, which he took to the well, who gave him some water for it. Then the little cock took the water to the hen, but when he got there the hen had choked in the meantime, and lay there dead and motionless.Then the cock was so distressed that he cried aloud, and every animal came to lament the little hen, and six mice built a little carriage to carry her to her grave, and when the carriage was ready they harnessed themselves to it, and the cock drove. On the way, however, they met the fox, who said, “Where art thou going, little cock?”“I am going to bury my little hen.”“May I drive with thee?”“Yes, but seat thyself at the back of the carriage, for in the front my little horses could not drag thee.”Then the fox seated himself at the back, and after that the wolf, the bear, the stag, the lion, and all the beasts of the forest did the same. Then the procession went onwards, and they reached the stream. “How are we to get over?” said the little cock.A straw was lying by the stream, and it said, “I will lay myself straight across, and then you can drive over me.”But when the six mice came to the bridge, the straw slipped and fell into the water, and the six mice all fell in and were drowned. Then they were again in difficulty, and a coal came and said, “I am large enough, I will lay myself across, and you shall drive over me.”So the coal also laid itself across the water, but unhappily just touched it, on which the coal hissed, was extinguished and died. When a stone saw that, it took pity on the little cock, wished to help him, and laid itself over the water.Then the cock drew the carriage himself, but when he got it over and reached the shore with the dead hen, and was about to draw over the others who were sitting behind as well, there were too many of them, the carriage ran back, and they all fell into the water together, and were drowned.Then the little cock was left alone with the dead hen, and dug a grave for her and laid her in it, and made a mound above it, on which he sat down and fretted until he died too, and then every one was dead.
A Stag, chased from his lair by the hounds, took refuge in a farmyard, and, entering a stable where a number of oxen were stalled, thrust himself under a pile of hay in a vacant stall, where he lay concealed, all but the tips of his horns. Presently one of the Oxen said to him, “What has induced you to come in here? Aren’t you aware of the risk you are running of being captured by the herdsmen?” To which he replied, “Pray let me stay for the present. When night comes I shall easily escape under cover of the dark.” In the course of the afternoon more than one of the farm-hands came in, to attend to the wants of the cattle, but not one of them noticed the presence of the Stag, who accordingly began to congratulate himself on his escape and to express his gratitude to the Oxen. “We wish you well,” said the one who had spoken before, “but you are not out of danger yet. If the master comes, you will certainly be found out, for nothing ever escapes his keen eyes.” Presently, sure enough, in he came, and made a great to-do about the way the Oxen were kept. “The beasts are starving,” he cried; “here, give them more hay, and put plenty of litter under them.” As he spoke, he seized an armful himself from the pile where the Stag lay concealed, and at once detected him. Calling his men, he had him seized at once and killed for the table.
The white man has never understood the Indian, and the example set the Western tribes of the plains by our white brethren has not been such as to inspire the red man with either confidence or respect for our laws or our religion. The fighting trapper, the border bandit, the horse-thief and rustler, in whose stomach legitimately acquired beef would cause colic—were the Indians’ first acquaintances who wore a white skin, and he did not know that they were not of the best type. Being outlaws in every sense, these men sought shelter from the Indian in the wilderness; and he learned of their ways about his lodge-fire, or in battle, often provoked by the white ruffian in the hope of gain. They lied to the Indian—these first white acquaintances, and in after-years, the great Government of the United States lied and lied again, until he has come to believe that there is no truth in the white man’s heart. And I don’t blame him.The Indian is a charitable man. I don’t believe he ever refused food and shelter or abused a visitor. He has never been a bigot, and concedes to every other man the right to his own beliefs. Further than that, the Indian believes that every man’s religion and belief is right and proper for that man’s self.It was blowing a gale and snow was being driven in fine flakes across the plains when we went to the lodge for a story. Every minute the weather was growing colder, and an early fall storm of severity was upon us. The wind seemed to add to the good nature of our host as he filled and passed me the pipe.“This is the night I was to tell you about the Birch-Tree, and the wind will help to make you understand,” said War Eagle after we had finished smoking.“Of course,” he continued, “this all happened in the summer-time when the weather was warm, very warm. Sometimes, you know, there are great winds in the summer, too.“It was a hot day, and OLD-man was trying to sleep, but the heat made him sick. He wandered to a hilltop for air; but there was no air. Then he went down to the river and found no relief. He travelled to the timberlands, and there the heat was great, although he found plenty of shade. The travelling made him warmer, of course, but he wouldn’t stay still.“By and by he called to the winds to blow, and they commenced. First they didn’t blow very hard, because they were afraid they might make OLD-man angry, but he kept crying:“‘Blow harder—harder—harder! Blow worse than ever you blew before, and send this heat away from the world.’“So, of course, the winds did blow harder—harder than they ever had blown before.“‘Bend and break, Fir-Tree!’ cried OLD-man, and the Fir-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, Pine-Tree!’ and the Pine-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, Spruce-Tree!’ and the Spruce-Tree did bend and break. ‘Bend and break, O Birch-Tree!’ and the Birch-Tree did bend, but it wouldn’t break—no, sir!—it wouldn’t break!“‘Ho! Birch-Tree, won’t you mind me? Bend and break! I tell you,’ but all the Birch-Tree would do was to bend.“It bent to the ground; it bent double to please OLD-man, but it would not break.“‘Blow harder, wind!’ cried OLD-man, ‘blow harder and break the Birch-Tree.’ The wind tried to blow harder, but it couldn’t, and that made the thing worse, because OLD-man was so angry he went crazy. ‘Break! I tell you—break!’ screamed OLD-man to the Birch-Tree.“‘I won’t break,’ replied the Birch; ‘I shall never break for any wind. I will bend, but I shall never, never break.’“‘You won’t, hey?’ cried OLD-man, and he rushed at the Birch-Tree with his hunting-knife. He grabbed the top of the Birch because it was touching the ground, and began slashing the bark of the Birch-Tree with the knife. All up and down the trunk of the tree OLD-man slashed, until the Birch was covered with the knife slashes.“‘There! that is for not minding me. That will do you good! As long as time lasts you shall always look like that, Birch-Tree; always be marked as one who will not mind its maker. Yes, and all the Birch-Trees in the world shall have the same marks forever.’ They do, too. You have seen them and have wondered why the Birch-Tree is so queerly marked. Now you know.“That is all—Ho!”
Near a pixy field in the neighbourhood of Dartmoor, there lived, on a time, an old woman who possessed a cottage and a very pretty garden, wherein she cultivated a most beautiful bed of tulips. The pixies, it is traditionally averred, so delighted in this spot that they would carry their elfin babes thither, and sing them to rest. Often, at the dead hour of the night, a sweet lullaby was heard, and strains of the most melodious music would float in the air, that seemed to owe their origin to no other musicians than the beautiful tulips themselves, and whilst these delicate flowers waved their heads to the evening breeze, it sometimes seemed as if they were marking time to their own singing. As soon as the elfin babes were lulled asleep by such melodies, the pixies would return to the neighbouring field, and there commence dancing, making those rings on the green which showed, even to mortal eyes, what sort of gambols had occupied them during the night season.At the first dawn of light the watchful pixies once more sought the tulips, and, though still invisible they could be heard kissing and caressing their babies. The tulips, thus favoured by a race of genii, retained their beauty much longer than any other flowers in the garden, whilst, though contrary to their nature, as the pixies breathed over them, they became as fragrant as roses, and so delighted at all was the old woman who kept the garden that she never suffered a single tulip to be plucked from its stem.At length, however, she died, and the heir who succeeded her destroyed the enchanted flowers, and converted the spot into a parsley-bed, a circumstance which so disappointed and offended the pixies, that they caused all the parsley to wither away, and, indeed, for many years nothing would grow in the beds of the whole garden. These sprites, however, though eager in resenting an injury, were, like most warm spirits, equally capable of returning a benefit, and if they destroyed the product of the good old woman’s garden when it had fallen into unworthy hands, they tended the bed that wrapped her clay with affectionate solicitude. They were heard lamenting and singing sweet dirges around her grave; nor did they neglect to pay this mournful tribute to her memory every night before the moon was at the full, for then their high solemnity of dancing, singing, and rejoicing took place to hail the queen of the night on completing her circle in the heavens. No human hand ever tended the grave of the poor old woman who had nurtured the tulip bed for the delight of these elfin creatures; but no rank weed was ever seen to grow upon it. The sod was ever green, and the prettiest flowers would spring up without sowing or planting, and so they continued to do until it was supposed the mortal body was reduced to its original dust.
Wayambeh the turtle was the wife of Gougourgahgah, the laughing jackass. They had a quarrel when the time came for Wayambeh to lay her eggs. She was going as her tribe did to the sand beside the creek, there to make a hole and deposit them; but Gougourgahgah said that was a mad thing to do, a flood might come and wash them away. She should lay the eggs in a hollow tree.Wayambeh said: “How shall I get into a hollow tree? And even if I did get there how should I get sand up to cover the eggs? And how would the sun shine on the sand to heat it and hatch them out?”“How was I born, and my mother before me?” asked Gougourgahgah, answering her question with another, going on, “My wife can do surely as our mothers did?”“I am a Wayambeh, and it is right only for me to do as the Wayambehs do. Does a child not take its name from its mother? My children will be Wayambeh even as I am. I shall go to my own tribe.”Straight went Wayambeh to the creek where her tribe lived. Into the water she went after them. Gougourgahgah followed her to the edge. Then he turned back and sent his servant Wonga the pigeon, and Dumerh the wife of Wonga, after Wayambeh.Wonga sent Dumerh on to tell Wayambeh to come back.But Wayambeh said: “No, I will not go back. Let him come himself if he wants me.”Wonga and Dumerh went back and told this to Gougourgahgah, who went as his wife had asked for him. But on the bank of the creek he saw the mother of Wayambeh, so he turned back, for the law of the tribes did not let him speak to his mother-in-law. He sent Wonga to consult her.“Tell him,” said Wayambeh the mother, “my daughter will not go back. He would have her break the laws of her tribe. She shall not leave her people.”Wonga went back to tell Gougourgahgah. Just as he was beginning to do so, out from the grass crept behind him Ouyouboolooey the black snake, an old lover of Wayambeh, who was so enraged at this messenger wanting to bring his old love back to the husband she had left that he meant to kill him. He was in the act of making a spring on to Wonga to throttle him, when Gougourgahgah saw him.Gougourgahgah made one dart and was on the back of Ouyouboolooey. Clutching hold of him, he flew high in the air, up, up, as far as his flight let him go, then he loosened his hold of Ouyouboolooey and let him drop swiftly, thud to the earth, his back broken. Down after him flew Gougourgahgah. There in his camp he saw his enemy lying dead.“Twice have you tried to injure me, and twice have you failed,” he said; “once when you wanted to marry Wayambeh, who was promised to me, and now when you wanted to kill my faithful servant, sneaking as you did like a coward behind him. But instead of him, you yourself lie dead, powerless for ever to harm me. So shall I kill ever your treacherous tribe, against whom my people shall have a dullaymullaylunnah, or vengeful hatred, for ever. Ah! But it is good to see you my enemy lying there.”And Gougourgahgah laughed long and loud peals of laughter, until the whole creek-side echoed with his startling “Gou—gour—gah—gah. Gou—gour—gah—gah.”Startling indeed was the sound to Wayambeh, for her husband had always looked too solemn to laugh, except when he had to herald the sunrise. She hurried out of the water, and went away along the opposite bank as fast as she could. She thought, as peal after peal of his strange loud laughter reached her, that her husband had gone mad, and if he caught her would kill her. So near the laughter sounded that she fancied he was pursuing her. She did not dare to look round but sped swiftly on. But instead of following her, Gougourgahgah was eating his enemy, and vowing again that so long as his tribe lived so long should they wage war against the tribe of Ouyouboolooey, killing and eating them.While this feast off her old lover was going on, Wayambeh was putting an immense distance between herself and her old camp. At length she was too tired to go farther. Where she rested was a nice sandy place beside the creek. Here she decided to camp. She made a hole and laid her eggs in it in due course. When the last was laid, and she was carefully covering them up ready for the hatching, she heard a sound on the bank above her. Looking up she saw there a dark-feathered bird, with a red head and neck, peering down at her, who, on seeing her look up, said: “Why do you cover your eggs up?”“That the sand and sun may hatch them.”“But won’t you sit on them yourself?”“No indeed! Why should I do that? They will be warm where they are, and come out even as I came out, in the right time. If I sat on them I might break them. And who would get me food? I should die and they too.”The red-headed bird, which was Woggoon the brush turkey, went back to where her mate was feeding and told him what she had seen. She said she would like to try that plan, it seemed much easier than having to sit on the eggs week after week.Her mate told her not to be in a hurry to change her ways; each tribe had its own custom. Then the Wayambeh might be only fooling her. They would wait and see if the eggs came out all right. But even so he would not have her make a nest near the creek where a sudden rise might wash it away. They must stick to their scrub.At length time proved that what Wayambeh had said was true. The little Wayambeh all came out, and were strong and well. Then the Woggoons decided they would try and hatch their eggs without sitting on them. They could not dig a hole to lay them in, but they scratched up a heap of mixed debris, earth, sand, leaves and sticks. Then the mother Woggoon every second day laid an egg until in the mound were fifteen, all apart from each other, with the thin end downwards. Over these they put some more decayed leaves and rubbish, and outside all a heaped-up covering of more leaves and twigs. When all this was done the parents waited anxiously for the result.As time went on the mother bird grew restless. What if she had killed all her young just to save herself? She fussed round the big mound which stood some feet high. She put her head in to feel if it were warm; drew it out quickly, delighted to find the nest was absolutely hot. Then, she began to fear it would be too hot. Full of anxiety she scratched away the earth and leaves, thinking the covering was too much. She stopped suddenly and listened. Was that a baby-bird note? She listened again. It was. She called to her mate. He came, and when she told him what she had heard, he scratched away until to their joy out came the finest chicks they had ever seen, quite independent and strong, with feet and wings more advanced than any seen on their chicks before.Proud of the success of her plan, and anxious to spread the good news, the mother Woggoon ran away from her family to tell all her tribe about them.The next season the other Woggoons added to the size of the mound, and many of the mothers laid their eggs in one nest, until at last the whole tribe adopted the same plan, thus earning for themselves the name of Mound Builders.
From bowers of gods the bees came down to man.On Mount Hymettus, first, they say,They made their home, and stored awayThe treasures which the zephyrs fan.When men had robb’d these daughters of the sky,And left their palaces of nectar dry,—Or, in English as the thing’s explain’d,When hives were of their honey drain’d—The spoilers ‘gan the wax to handle,And fashion’d from it many a candle.Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire,Remain uninjured by the teeth of time,Was kindled into great desireFor immortality sublime.And so this new EmpedoclesUpon the blazing pile one sees,Self-doom’d by purest follyTo fate so melancholy.The candle lack’d philosophy:All things are made diverse to be.To wander from our destined tracks—There cannot be a vainer wish;But this Empedocles of wax,That melted in chafing-dishWas truly not a greater foolThan he of whom we read at school.
In the forest, high up on the steep shore and not far from the open seacoast, stood a very old oak tree. It was just three hundred and sixty-five years old, but that long time was to the tree as the same number of days might be to us. We wake by day and sleep by night, and then we have our dreams. It is different with the tree; it is obliged to keep awake through three seasons of the year and does not get any sleep till winter comes. Winter is its time for rest—its night after the long day of spring, summer, and autumn.During many a warm summer, the Ephemeras, which are flies that exist for only a day, had fluttered about the old oak, enjoyed life, and felt happy. And if, for a moment, one of the tiny creatures rested on the large, fresh leaves, the tree would always say: “Poor little creature! your whole life consists of but a single day. How very short! It must be quite melancholy.”“Melancholy! what do you mean?” the little creature would always reply. “Why do you say that? Everything around me is so wonderfully bright and warm and beautiful that it makes me joyous.”“But only for one day, and then it is all over.”“Over!” repeated the fly; “what is the meaning of ‘all over’? Are you ‘all over’ too?”“No, I shall very likely live for thousands of your days, and my day is whole seasons long; indeed, it is so long that you could never reckon it up.”“No? then I don’t understand you. You may have thousands of my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be merry and happy. Does all the beauty of the world cease when you die?”“No,” replied the tree; “it will certainly last much longer, infinitely longer than I can think of.”“Well, then,” said the little fly, “we have the same time to live, only we reckon differently.” And the little creature danced and floated in the air, rejoicing in its delicate wings of gauze and velvet, rejoicing in the balmy breezes laden with the fragrance from the clover fields and wild roses, elder blossoms and honeysuckle, and from the garden hedges of wild thyme, primroses, and mint. The perfume of all these was so strong that it almost intoxicated the little fly. The long and beautiful day had been so full of joy and sweet delights, that, when the sun sank, the fly felt tired of all its happiness and enjoyment. Its wings could sustain it no longer, and gently and slowly it glided down to the soft, waving blades of grass, nodded its little head as well as it could, and slept peacefully and sweetly. The fly was dead.“Poor little Ephemera!” said the oak; “what a short life!” And so on every summer day the dance was repeated, the same questions were asked and the same answers given, and there was the same peaceful falling asleep at sunset. This continued through many generations of Ephemeras, and all of them felt merry and happy.The oak remained awake through the morning of spring, the noon of summer, and the evening of autumn; its time of rest, its night, drew near—its winter was coming. Here fell a leaf and there fell a leaf. Already the storms were singing: “Good night, good night. We will rock you and lull you. Go to sleep, go to sleep. We will sing you to sleep, and shake you to sleep, and it will do your old twigs good; they will even crackle with pleasure. Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly, it is your three hundred and sixty-fifth night. You are still very young in the world. Sleep sweetly; the clouds will drop snow upon you, which will be your coverlid, warm and sheltering to your feet. Sweet sleep to you, and pleasant dreams.”And there stood the oak, stripped of all its leaves, left to rest during the whole of a long winter, and to dream many dreams of events that had happened, just as men dream.The great tree had once been small; indeed, in its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human reckoning, it was now in the fourth century of its existence. It was the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit towered above all the other trees and could be seen far out at sea, so that it served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no idea how many eyes looked eagerly for it. In its topmost branches the wood pigeon built her nest, and the cuckoo sang his well-known song, the familiar notes echoing among the boughs; and in autumn, when the leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage came and rested on the branches before beginning their flight across the sea.But now that it was winter, the tree stood leafless, so that every one could see how crooked and bent were the branches that sprang forth from the trunk. Crows and rooks came by turns and sat on them, and talked of the hard times that were beginning, and how difficult it was in winter to obtain a living.It was just at the holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a dream. The tree had doubtless a feeling that the festive time had arrived, and in its dream fancied it heard the bells of the churches ringing. And yet it seemed to be a beautiful summer’s day, mild and warm. The tree’s mighty summit was crowned with spreading, fresh green foliage; the sunbeams played among its leaves and branches, and the air was full of fragrance from herb and blossom; painted butterflies chased each other; the summer flies danced around it as if the world had been created merely that they might dance and be merry. All that had happened to the tree during all the years of its life seemed to pass before it as if in a festive pageant.It saw the knights of olden times and noble ladies ride through the wood on their gallant steeds, with plumes waving in their hats and with falcons on their wrists, while the hunting horn sounded and the dogs barked. It saw hostile warriors, in colored dress and glittering armor, with spear and halberd, pitching their tents and again taking them down; the watchfires blazed, and men sang and slept under the hospitable shelter of the tree. It saw lovers meet in quiet happiness near it in the moonshine, and carve the initials of their names in the grayish-green bark of its trunk.Once, but long years had passed since then, guitars and Æolian harps had been hung on its boughs by merry travelers; now they seemed to hang there again, and their marvelous notes sounded again. The wood pigeons cooed as if to express the feelings of the tree, and the cuckoo called out to tell it how many summer days it had yet to live.Then it appeared to it that new life was thrilling through every fiber of root and stem and leaf, rising even to its highest branches. The tree felt itself stretching and spreading out, while through the root beneath the earth ran the warm vigor of life. As it grew higher and still higher and its strength increased, the topmost boughs became broader and fuller; and in proportion to its growth its self-satisfaction increased, and there came a joyous longing to grow higher and higher—to reach even to the warm, bright sun itself.Already had its topmost branches pierced the clouds, which floated beneath them like troops of birds of passage or large white swans; every leaf seemed gifted with sight, as if it possessed eyes to see. The stars became visible in broad daylight, large and sparkling, like clear and gentle eyes. They brought to the tree’s memory the light that it had seen in the eyes of a child and in the eyes of lovers who had once met beneath the branches of the old oak.These were wonderful and happy moments for the old oak, full of peace and joy; and yet amidst all this happiness, the tree felt a yearning desire that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and flowers beneath it might also be able to rise higher, to see all this splendor and experience the same happiness. The grand, majestic oak could not be quite happy in its enjoyment until all the rest, both great and small, could share it. And this feeling of yearning trembled through every branch, through every leaf, as warmly and fervently as through a human heart.The summit of the tree waved to and fro and bent downwards, as if in its silent longing it sought something. Then there came to it the fragrance of thyme and the more powerful scent of honeysuckle and violets, and the tree fancied it heard the note of the cuckoo.At length its longing was satisfied. Up through the clouds came the green summits of the forest trees, and the oak watched them rising higher and higher. Bush and herb shot upward, and some even tore themselves up by the roots to rise more quickly. The quickest of all was the birch tree. Like a lightning flash the slender stem shot upwards in a zigzag line, the branches spreading round it like green gauze and banners. Every native of the wood, even to the brown and feathery rushes, grew with the rest, while the birds ascended with the melody of song. On a blade of grass that fluttered in the air like a long green ribbon sat a grasshopper cleaning its wings with its legs. May beetles hummed, bees murmured, birds sang—each in its own way; the air was filled with the sounds of song and gladness.“But where is the little blue flower that grows by the water, and the purple bellflower, and the daisy?” asked the oak. “I want them all.”“Here we are; here we are,” came the reply in words and in song.“But the beautiful thyme of last summer, where is that? And where are the lilies of the valley which last year covered the earth with their bloom, and the wild apple tree with its fragrant blossoms, and all the glory of the wood, which has flourished year after year? And where is even what may have but just been born?”“We are here; we are here,” sounded voices high up in the air, as if they had flown there beforehand.“Why, this is beautiful, too beautiful to be believed,” cried the oak in a joyful tone. “I have them all here, both great and small; not one has been forgotten. Can such happiness be imagined? It seems almost impossible.”“In heaven with the Eternal God it can be imagined, for all things are possible,” sounded the reply through the air.And the old tree, as it still grew upwards and onwards, felt that its roots were loosening themselves from the earth.“It is right so; it is best,” said the tree. “No fetters hold me now. I can fly up to the very highest point in light and glory. And all I love are with me, both small and great. All—all are here.”Such was the dream of the old oak at the holy Christmas time. And while it dreamed, a mighty storm came rushing over land and sea. The sea rolled in great billows toward the shore. A cracking and crushing was heard in the tree. Its roots were torn from the ground, just at the moment when in its dream it was being loosened from the earth. It fell; its three hundred and sixty-five years were ended like the single day of the Ephemera.On the morning of Christmas Day, when the sun rose, the storm had ceased. From all the churches sounded the festive bells, and from every hearth, even of the smallest hut, rose the smoke into the blue sky, like the smoke from the festive thank-offerings on the Druids’ altars. The sea gradually became calm, and on board a great ship that had withstood the tempest during the night, all the flags were displayed as a token of joy and festivity.“The tree is down! the old oak—our landmark on the coast!” exclaimed the sailors. “It must have fallen in the storm of last night. Who can replace it? Alas! no one.” This was the old tree’s funeral oration, brief but well said.There it lay stretched on the snow-covered shore, and over it sounded the notes of a song from the ship—a song of Christmas joy, of the redemption of the soul of man, and of eternal life through Christ.Sing aloud on this happy morn,All is fulfilled, for Christ is born;With songs of joy let us loudly sing,“Hallelujahs to Christ our King.”Thus sounded the Christmas carol, and every one on board the ship felt his thoughts elevated through the song and the prayer, even as the old tree had felt lifted up in its last beautiful dream on that Christmas morn.
Once upon a most early time was a Neolithic man. He was not a Jute or an Angle, or even a Dravidian, which he might well have been, Best Beloved, but never mind why. He was a Primitive, and he lived cavily in a Cave, and he wore very few clothes, and he couldn’t read and he couldn’t write and he didn’t want to, and except when he was hungry he was quite happy. His name was Tegumai Bopsulai, and that means, ‘Man-who-does-not-put-his-foot-forward-in-a-hurry’; but we, O Best Beloved, will call him Tegumai, for short. And his wife’s name was Teshumai Tewindrow, and that means, ‘Lady-who-asks-a-very-many-questions’; but we, O Best Beloved, will call her Teshumai, for short. And his little girl-daughter’s name was Taffimai Metallumai, and that means, ‘Small-person-without-any-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked’; but I’m going to call her Taffy. And she was Tegumai Bopsulai’s Best Beloved and her own Mummy’s Best Beloved, and she was not spanked half as much as was good for her; and they were all three very happy. As soon as Taffy could run about she went everywhere with her Daddy Tegumai, and sometimes they would not come home to the Cave till they were hungry, and then Teshumai Tewindrow would say, ‘Where in the world have you two been to, to get so shocking dirty? Really, my Tegumai, you’re no better than my Taffy.’Now attend and listen!One day Tegumai Bopsulai went down through the beaver-swamp to the Wagai river to spear carp-fish for dinner, and Taffy went too. Tegumai’s spear was made of wood with shark’s teeth at the end, and before he had caught any fish at all he accidentally broke it clean across by jabbing it down too hard on the bottom of the river. They were miles and miles from home (of course they had their lunch with them in a little bag), and Tegumai had forgotten to bring any extra spears.‘Here’s a pretty kettle of fish!’ said Tegumai. ‘It will take me half the day to mend this.’‘There’s your big black spear at home,’ said Taffy. ‘Let me run back to the Cave and ask Mummy to give it me.’‘It’s too far for your little fat legs,’ said Tegumai. ‘Besides, you might fall into the beaver-swamp and be drowned. We must make the best of a bad job.’ He sat down and took out a little leather mendy-bag, full of reindeer-sinews and strips of leather, and lumps of bee’s-wax and resin, and began to mend the spear.Taffy sat down too, with her toes in the water and her chin in her hand, and thought very hard. Then she said—‘I say, Daddy, it’s an awful nuisance that you and I don’t know how to write, isn’t it? If we did we could send a message for the new spear.’‘Taffy,’ said Tegumai, ‘how often have I told you not to use slang? “Awful” isn’t a pretty word, but it could be a convenience, now you mention it, if we could write home.’Just then a Stranger-man came along the river, but he belonged to a far tribe, the Tewaras, and he did not understand one word of Tegumai’s language. He stood on the bank and smiled at Taffy, because he had a little girl-daughter Of his own at home. Tegumai drew a hank of deer-sinews from his mendy-bag and began to mend his spear.‘Come here, said Taffy. ‘Do you know where my Mummy lives?’ And the Stranger-man said ‘Um!’ being, as you know, a Tewara.‘Silly!’ said Taffy, and she stamped her foot, because she saw a shoal of very big carp going up the river just when her Daddy couldn’t use his spear.‘Don’t bother grown-ups,’ said Tegumai, so busy with his spear-mending that he did not turn round.‘I aren’t, said Taffy. ‘I only want him to do what I want him to do, and he won’t understand.’‘Then don’t bother me, said Tegumai, and he went on pulling and straining at the deer-sinews with his mouth full of loose ends. The Stranger-man—a genuine Tewara he was—sat down on the grass, and Taffy showed him what her Daddy was doing. The Stranger-man thought, this is a very wonderful child. She stamps her foot at me and she makes faces. She must be the daughter of that noble Chief who is so great that he won’t take any notice of me.’ So he smiled more politely than ever.‘Now,’ said Taffy, ‘I want you to go to my Mummy, because your legs are longer than mine, and you won’t fall into the beaver-swamp, and ask for Daddy’s other spear—the one with the black handle that hangs over our fireplace.’The Stranger-man (and he was a Tewara) thought, ‘This is a very, very wonderful child. She waves her arms and she shouts at me, but I don’t understand a word of what she says. But if I don’t do what she wants, I greatly fear that that haughty Chief, Man-who-turns-his-back-on-callers, will be angry.’ He got up and twisted a big flat piece of bark off a birch-tree and gave it to Taffy. He did this, Best Beloved, to show that his heart was as white as the birch-bark and that he meant no harm; but Taffy didn’t quite understand.‘Oh!’ said she. ‘Now I see! You want my Mummy’s living-address? Of course I can’t write, but I can draw pictures if I’ve anything sharp to scratch with. Please lend me the shark’s tooth off your necklace.’The Stranger-man (and he was a Tewara) didn’t say anything, So Taffy put up her little hand and pulled at the beautiful bead and seed and shark-tooth necklace round his neck.The Stranger-man (and he was a Tewara) thought, ‘This is a very, very, very wonderful child. The shark’s tooth on my necklace is a magic shark’s tooth, and I was always told that if anybody touched it without my leave they would immediately swell up or burst, but this child doesn’t swell up or burst, and that important Chief, Man-who-attends-strictly-to-his-business, who has not yet taken any notice of me at all, doesn’t seem to be afraid that she will swell up or burst. I had better be more polite.’So he gave Taffy the shark’s tooth, and she lay down flat on her tummy with her legs in the air, like some people on the drawing-room floor when they want to draw pictures, and she said, ‘Now I’ll draw you some beautiful pictures! You can look over my shoulder, but you mustn’t joggle. First I’ll draw Daddy fishing. It isn’t very like him; but Mummy will know, because I’ve drawn his spear all broken. Well, now I’ll draw the other spear that he wants, the black-handled spear. It looks as if it was sticking in Daddy’s back, but that’s because the shark’s tooth slipped and this piece of bark isn’t big enough. That’s the spear I want you to fetch; so I’ll draw a picture of me myself ‘splaining to you. My hair doesn’t stand up like I’ve drawn, but it’s easier to draw that way. Now I’ll draw you. I think you’re very nice really, but I can’t make you pretty in the picture, so you mustn’t be ‘fended. Are you ‘fended?’The Stranger-man (and he was a Tewara) smiled. He thought, ‘There must be a big battle going to be fought somewhere, and this extraordinary child, who takes my magic shark’s tooth but who does not swell up or burst, is telling me to call all the great Chief’s tribe to help him. He is a great Chief, or he would have noticed me.‘Look,’ said Taffy, drawing very hard and rather scratchily, ‘now I’ve drawn you, and I’ve put the spear that Daddy wants into your hand, just to remind you that you’re to bring it. Now I’ll show you how to find my Mummy’s living-address. You go along till you come to two trees (those are trees), and then you go over a hill (that’s a hill), and then you come into a beaver-swamp all full of beavers. I haven’t put in all the beavers, because I can’t draw beavers, but I’ve drawn their heads, and that’s all you’ll see of them when you cross the swamp. Mind you don’t fall in! Then our Cave is just beyond the beaver-swamp. It isn’t as high as the hills really, but I can’t draw things very small. That’s my Mummy outside. She is beautiful. She is the most beautifullest Mummy there ever was, but she won’t be ‘fended when she sees I’ve drawn her so plain. She’ll be pleased of me because I can draw. Now, in case you forget, I’ve drawn the spear that Daddy wants outside our Cave. It’s inside really, but you show the picture to my Mummy and she’ll give it you. I’ve made her holding up her hands, because I know she’ll be so pleased to see you. Isn’t it a beautiful picture? And do you quite understand, or shall I ‘splain again?’The Stranger-man (and he was a Tewara) looked at the picture and nodded very hard. He said to himself,’ If I do not fetch this great Chief’s tribe to help him, he will be slain by his enemies who are coming up on all sides with spears. Now I see why the great Chief pretended not to notice me! He feared that his enemies were hiding in the bushes and would see him. Therefore he turned to me his back, and let the wise and wonderful child draw the terrible picture showing me his difficulties. I will away and get help for him from his tribe.’ He did not even ask Taffy the road, but raced off into the bushes like the wind, with the birch-bark in his hand, and Taffy sat down most pleased.Now this is the picture that Taffy had drawn for him!‘What have you been doing, Taffy?’ said Tegumai. He had mended his spear and was carefully waving it to and fro.‘It’s a little berangement of my own, Daddy dear,’ said Taffy. ‘If you won’t ask me questions, you’ll know all about it in a little time, and you’ll be surprised. You don’t know how surprised you’ll be, Daddy! Promise you’ll be surprised.’‘Very well,’ said Tegumai, and went on fishing.The Stranger-man—did you know he was a Tewara?—hurried away with the picture and ran for some miles, till quite by accident he found Teshumai Tewindrow at the door of her Cave, talking to some other Neolithic ladies who had come in to a Primitive lunch. Taffy was very like Teshumai, especially about the upper part of the face and the eyes, so the Stranger-man—always a pure Tewara—smiled politely and handed Teshumai the birch-bark. He had run hard, so that he panted, and his legs were scratched with brambles, but he still tried to be polite.As soon as Teshumai saw the picture she screamed like anything and flew at the Stranger-man. The other Neolithic ladies at once knocked him down and sat on him in a long line of six, while Teshumai pulled his hair.‘It’s as plain as the nose on this Stranger-man’s face,’ she said. ‘He has stuck my Tegumai all full of spears, and frightened poor Taffy so that her hair stands all on end; and not content with that, he brings me a horrid picture of how it was done. Look!’ She showed the picture to all the Neolithic ladies sitting patiently on the Stranger-man. ‘Here is my Tegumai with his arm broken; here is a spear sticking into his back; here is a man with a spear ready to throw; here is another man throwing a spear from a Cave, and here are a whole pack of people’ (they were Taffy’s beavers really, but they did look rather like people) ‘coming up behind Tegumai. Isn’t it shocking!’‘Most shocking!’ said the Neolithic ladies, and they filled the Stranger-man’s hair with mud (at which he was surprised), and they beat upon the Reverberating Tribal Drums, and called together all the chiefs of the Tribe of Tegumai, with their Hetmans and Dolmans, all Neguses, Woons, and Akhoonds of the organisation, in addition to the Warlocks, Angekoks, Juju-men, Bonzes, and the rest, who decided that before they chopped the Stranger-man’s head off he should instantly lead them down to the river and show them where he had hidden poor Taffy.By this time the Stranger-man (in spite of being a Tewara) was really annoyed. They had filled his hair quite solid with mud; they had rolled him up and down on knobby pebbles; they had sat upon him in a long line of six; they had thumped him and bumped him till he could hardly breathe; and though he did not understand their language, he was almost sure that the names the Neolithic ladies called him were not ladylike. However, he said nothing till all the Tribe of Tegumai were assembled, and then he led them back to the bank of the Wagai river, and there they found Taffy making daisy-chains, and Tegumai carefully spearing small carp with his mended spear.‘Well, you have been quick!’ said Taffy. ‘But why did you bring so many people? Daddy dear, this is my surprise. Are you surprised, Daddy?’‘Very,’ said Tegumai; ‘but it has ruined all my fishing for the day. Why, the whole dear, kind, nice, clean, quiet Tribe is here, Taffy.’And so they were. First of all walked Teshumai Tewindrow and the Neolithic ladies, tightly holding on to the Stranger-man, whose hair was full of mud (although he was a Tewara). Behind them came the Head Chief, the Vice-Chief, the Deputy and Assistant Chiefs (all armed to the upper teeth), the Hetmans and Heads of Hundreds, Platoffs with their Platoons, and Dolmans with their Detachments; Woons, Neguses, and Akhoonds ranking in the rear (still armed to the teeth). Behind them was the Tribe in hierarchical order, from owners of four caves (one for each season), a private reindeer-run, and two salmon-leaps, to feudal and prognathous Villeins, semi-entitled to half a bearskin of winter nights, seven yards from the fire, and adscript serfs, holding the reversion of a scraped marrow-bone under heriot (Aren’t those beautiful words, Best Beloved?). They were all there, prancing and shouting, and they frightened every fish for twenty miles, and Tegumai thanked them in a fluid Neolithic oration.Then Teshumai Tewindrow ran down and kissed and hugged Taffy very much indeed; but the Head Chief of the Tribe of Tegumai took Tegumai by the top-knot feathers and shook him severely.‘Explain! Explain! Explain!’ cried all the Tribe of Tegumai.‘Goodness’ sakes alive!’ said Tegumai. ‘Let go of my top-knot. Can’t a man break his carp-spear without the whole countryside descending on him? You’re a very interfering people.’‘I don’t believe you’ve brought my Daddy’s black-handled spear after all,’ said Taffy. ‘And what are you doing to my nice Stranger-man?’They were thumping him by twos and threes and tens till his eyes turned round and round. He could only gasp and point at Taffy.‘Where are the bad people who speared you, my darling?’ said Teshumai Tewindrow.‘There weren’t any,’ said Tegumai. ‘My only visitor this morning was the poor fellow that you are trying to choke. Aren’t you well, or are you ill, O Tribe of Tegumai?’‘He came with a horrible picture,’ said the Head Chief,—‘a picture that showed you were full of spears.’‘Er-um-Pr’aps I’d better ‘splain that I gave him that picture,’ said Taffy, but she did not feel quite comfy.‘You!’ said the Tribe of Tegumai all together. ‘Small-person-with-no-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked! You?’‘Taffy dear, I’m afraid we’re in for a little trouble,’ said her Daddy, and put his arm round her, so she didn’t care.‘Explain! Explain! Explain!’ said the Head Chief of the Tribe of Tegumai, and he hopped on one foot.‘I wanted the Stranger-man to fetch Daddy’s spear, so I drawded it,’ said Taffy. ‘There wasn’t lots of spears. There was only one spear. I drawded it three times to make sure. I couldn’t help it looking as if it stuck into Daddy’s head—there wasn’t room on the birch-bark; and those things that Mummy called bad people are my beavers. I drawded them to show him the way through the swamp; and I drawded Mummy at the mouth of the Cave looking pleased because he is a nice Stranger-man, and I think you are just the stupidest people in the world,’ said Taffy. ‘He is a very nice man. Why have you filled his hair with mud? Wash him!’Nobody said anything at all for a longtime, till the Head Chief laughed; then the Stranger-man (who was at least a Tewara) laughed; then Tegumai laughed till he fell down flat on the bank; then all the Tribe laughed more and worse and louder. The only people who did not laugh were Teshumai Tewindrow and all the Neolithic ladies. They were very polite to all their husbands, and said ‘Idiot!’ ever so often.Then the Head Chief of the Tribe of Tegumai cried and said and sang, ‘O Small-person-with-out-any-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked, you’ve hit upon a great invention!’‘I didn’t intend to; I only wanted Daddy’s black-handled spear,’ said Taffy.‘Never mind. It is a great invention, and some day men will call it writing. At present it is only pictures, and, as we have seen to-day, pictures are not always properly understood. But a time will come, O Babe of Tegumai, when we shall make letters—all twenty-six of ‘em,—and when we shall be able to read as well as to write, and then we shall always say exactly what we mean without any mistakes. Let the Neolithic ladies wash the mud out of the stranger’s hair.’‘I shall be glad of that,’ said Taffy, ‘because, after all, though you’ve brought every single other spear in the Tribe of Tegumai, you’ve forgotten my Daddy’s black-handled spear.’Then the Head Chief cried and said and sang, ‘Taffy dear, the next time you write a picture-letter, you’d better send a man who can talk our language with it, to explain what it means. I don’t mind it myself, because I am a Head Chief, but it’s very bad for the rest of the Tribe of Tegumai, and, as you can see, it surprises the stranger.’Then they adopted the Stranger-man (a genuine Tewara of Tewar) into the Tribe of Tegumai, because he was a gentleman and did not make a fuss about the mud that the Neolithic ladies had put into his hair. But from that day to this (and I suppose it is all Taffy’s fault), very few little girls have ever liked learning to read or write. Most of them prefer to draw pictures and play about with their Daddies—just like Taffy.THERE runs a road by Merrow Down—A grassy track to-day it isAn hour out of Guildford town,Above the river Wey it is.Here, when they heard the horse-bells ring,The ancient Britons dressed and rodeTo watch the dark Phoenicians bringTheir goods along the Western Road.And here, or hereabouts, they metTo hold their racial talks and such—To barter beads for Whitby jet,And tin for gay shell torques and such.But long and long before that time(When bison used to roam on it)Did Taffy and her Daddy climbThat down, and had their home on it.Then beavers built in Broadstone brookAnd made a swamp where Bramley stands:And bears from Shere would come and lookFor Taffimai where Shamley stands.The Wey, that Taffy called Wagai,Was more than six times bigger then;And all the Tribe of TegumaiThey cut a noble figure then!
When the wind sweeps across the grass, the field has a ripple like a pond, and when it sweeps across the corn the field waves to and fro like a high sea. That is called the wind’s dance; but the wind does not dance only, he also tells stories; and how loudly he can sing out of his deep chest, and how different it sounds in the tree-tops in the forest, and through the loopholes and clefts and cracks in walls! Do you see how the wind drives the clouds up yonder, like a frightened flock of sheep? Do you hear how the wind howls down here through the open valley, like a watchman blowing his horn? With wonderful tones hewhistles and screams down the chimney and into the fireplace. The fire crackles and flares up, and shines far into the room, and the little place is warm and snug, and it is pleasant to sit there listening to the sounds. Let the wind speak, for he knows plenty of stories and fairy tales, many more than are known to any of us. Just hear what the wind can tell.Huh–uh–ush! roar along! That is the burden of the song.“By the shores of the Great Belt, one of the straits that unite the Cattegut with the Baltic, lies an old mansion with thick red walls,”says the Wind. “I know every stone in it; I saw it when it still belonged to the castle of Marsk Stig on the promontory. But it had to be pulled down, and the stone was used again for the walls of a new mansion in another place, the baronial mansion of Borreby, which stillstands by the coast.“I knew them, the noble lords and ladies, the changing races thatdwelt there, and now I’m going to tell about Waldemar Daa and hisdaughters. How proudly he carried himself–he was of royal blood! Hecould do more than merely hunt the stag and empty the wine-can. ‘It_shall_ be done,’ he was accustomed to say.“His wife walked proudly in gold-embroidered garments over thepolished marble floors. The tapestries were gorgeous, the furniturewas expensive and artistically carved. She had brought gold and silverplate with her into the house, and there was German beer in thecellar. Black fiery horses neighed in the stables. There was a wealthylook about the house of Borreby at that time, when wealth was still athome there.“Four children dwelt there also; three delicate maidens, Ida, Joanna,and Anna Dorothea: I have never forgotten their names.“They were rich people, noble people, born in affluence, nurtured inaffluence.“Huh–sh! roar along!” sang the Wind; and then he continued:“I did not see here, as in other great noble houses, the high-bornlady sitting among her women in the great hall turning thespinning-wheel: here she swept the sounding chords of the cithern, andsang to the sound, but not always old Danish melodies, but songs of astrange land. It was ‘live and let live’ here: stranger guests camefrom far and near, the music sounded, the goblets clashed, and I wasnot able to drown the noise,” said the Wind. “Ostentation, andhaughtiness, and splendour, and display, and rule were there, but thefear of the Lord was not there.“And it was just on the evening of the first day of May,” the Windcontinued. “I came from the west, and had seen how the ships werebeing crushed by the waves, with all on board, and flung on the westcoast of Jutland. I had hurried across the heath, and over Jutland’swood-girt eastern coast, and over the Island of Fünen, and now I droveover the Great Belt, groaning and sighing.“Then I lay down to rest on the shore of Seeland, in the neighbourhoodof the great house of Borreby, where the forest, the splendid oakforest, still rose.“The young men-servants of the neighbourhood were collecting branchesand brushwood under the oak trees; the largest and driest they couldfind they carried into the village, and piled them up in a heap, andset them on fire; and men and maids danced, singing in a circle roundthe blazing pile.“I lay quite quiet,” continued the Wind; “but I silently touched abranch, which had been brought by the handsomest of the men-servants,and the wood blazed up brightly, blazed up higher than all the rest;and now he was the chosen one, and bore the name the Street-goat, andmight choose his Street-lamb first from among the maids; and there wasmirth and rejoicing, greater than I had ever heard before in the hallsof the rich baronial mansion.“And the noble lady drove towards the baronial mansion, with her threedaughters, in a gilded carriage drawn by six horses. The daughterswere young and fair–three charming blossoms, rose, lily, and palehyacinth. The mother was a proud tulip, and never acknowledged thesalutation of one of the men or maids who paused in their sport to doher honour: the gracious lady seemed a flower that was rather stiff inthe stalk.“Rose, lily, and pale hyacinth; yes, I saw them all three! Whoselambkins will they one day become? thought I; their Street-goat willbe a gallant knight, perhaps a prince. Huh–sh! hurry along! hurryalong!“Yes, the carriage rolled on with them, and the peasant people resumedtheir dancing. They rode that summer through all the villages roundabout. But in the night, when I rose again,” said the Wind, “the verynoble lady lay down, to rise again no more: that thing came upon herwhich comes upon all–there is nothing new in that.“Waldemar Daa stood for a space silent and thoughtful. ‘The proudesttree can be bowed without being broken,’ said a voice within him. Hisdaughters wept, and all the people in the mansion wiped their eyes;but Lady Daa had driven away–and I drove away too, and rushed along,huh–sh!” said the Wind.“I returned again; I often returned again over the Island of Fünen,and the shores of the Belt, and I sat down by Borreby, by the splendidoak wood; there the heron made his nest, and wood-pigeons haunted theplace, and blue ravens, and even the black stork. It was still spring;some of them were yet sitting on their eggs, others had alreadyhatched their young. But how they flew up, how they cried! The axesounded, blow on blow: the wood was to be felled. Waldemar Daa wantedto build a noble ship, a man-of-war, a three-decker, which the kingwould be sure to buy; and therefore the wood must be felled, thelandmark of the seamen, the refuge of the birds. The hawk started upand flew away, for its nest was destroyed; the heron and all the birdsof the forest became homeless, and flew about in fear and in anger: Icould well understand how they felt. Crows and ravens croaked aloud asif in scorn. ‘Crack, crack! the nest cracks, cracks, cracks!’“Far in the interior of the wood, where the noisy swarm of labourerswere working, stood Waldemar Daa and his three daughters; and alllaughed at the wild cries of the birds; only one, the youngest, AnnaDorothea, felt grieved in her heart; and when they made preparationsto fell a tree that was almost dead, and on whose naked branches theblack stork had built his nest, whence the little storks werestretching out their heads, she begged for mercy for the littlethings, and tears came into her eyes. Therefore the tree with theblack stork’s nest was left standing. The tree was not worth speakingof.“There was a great hewing and sawing, and a three-decker was built.The architect was of low origin, but of great pride; his eyes andforehead told how clever he was, and Waldemar Daa was fond oflistening to him, and so was Waldemar’s daughter Ida, the eldest, whowas now fifteen years old; and while he built a ship for the father,he was building for himself an airy castle, into which he and Ida wereto go as a married couple–which might indeed have happened, if thecastle with stone walls, and ramparts, and moats had remained. But inspite of his wise head, the architect remained but a poor bird; and,indeed, what business has a sparrow to take part in a dance ofpeacocks? Huh–sh! I careered away, and he careered away too, for hewas not allowed to stay; and little Ida got over it, because she wasobliged to get over it.“The proud black horses were neighing in the stable; they were worthlooking at, and accordingly they _were_ looked at. The admiral, whohad been sent by the king himself to inspect the new ship and takemeasures for its purchase, spoke loudly in admiration of the beautifulhorses.“I heard all that,” said the Wind. “I accompanied the gentlementhrough the open door, and strewed blades of straw like bars of goldbefore their feet. Waldemar Daa wanted to have gold, and the admiralwished for the proud black horses, and that is why he praised them somuch; but the hint was not taken, and consequently the ship was notbought. It remained on the shore covered over with boards, a Noah’sark that never got to the water–Huh–sh! rush away! away!–and thatwas a pity.“In the winter, when the fields were covered with snow, and the waterwith large blocks of ice that I blew up on to the coast,” continuedthe Wind, “crows and ravens came, all as black as might be, greatflocks of them, and alighted on the dead, deserted, lonely ship by theshore, and croaked in hoarse accents of the wood that was no more, ofthe many pretty bird’s nests destroyed, and the little ones leftwithout a home; and all for the sake of that great bit of lumber, thatproud ship that never sailed forth.“I made the snow-flakes whirl, and the snow lay like a great lake higharound the ship, and drifted over it. I let it hear my voice, that itmight know what a storm has to say. Certainly I did my part towardsteaching it seamanship. Huh–sh! push along!“And the winter passed away; winter and summer, both passed away, andthey are still passing away, even as I pass away; as the snow whirlsalong, and the apple blossom whirls along, and the leaves fall–away!away! away! and men are passing away too!“But the daughters were still young, and little Ida was a rose, asfair to look upon as on the day when the architect saw her. I oftenseized her long brown hair, when she stood in the garden by the appletree, musing, and not heeding how I strewed blossoms on her hair, andloosened it, while she was gazing at the red sun and the golden sky,through the dark underwood and the trees of the garden.“Her sister was bright and slender as a lily. Joanna had height anddeportment, but was like her mother, rather stiff in the stalk. Shewas very fond of walking through the great hall, where hung theportraits of her ancestors. The women were painted in dresses of silkand velvet, with a tiny little hat, embroidered with pearls, on theirplaited hair. They were handsome women. The gentlemen were representedclad in steel, or in costly cloaks lined with squirrel’s skin; theywore little ruffs, and swords at their sides, but not buckled to theirhips. Where would Joanna’s picture find its place on that wall someday? and how would _he_ look, her noble lord and husband? This is whatshe thought of, and of this she spoke softly to herself. I heard it,as I swept into the long hall, and turned round to come out again.“Anna Dorothea, the pale hyacinth, a child of fourteen, was quiet andthoughtful; her great deep blue eyes had a musing look, but thechildlike smile still played around her lips: I was not able to blowit away, nor did I wish to do so.“We met in the garden, in the hollow lane, in the field and meadow;she gathered herbs and flowers which she knew would be useful to herfather in concocting the drinks and drops he distilled. Waldemar Daawas arrogant and proud, but he was also a learned man, and knew agreat deal. That was no secret, and many opinions were expressedconcerning it. In his chimney there was fire even in summer time. Hewould lock the door of his room, and for days the fire would be pokedand raked; but of this he did not talk much–the forces of nature mustbe conquered in silence; and soon he would discover the art of makingthe best thing of all–the red gold.“That is why the chimney was always smoking, therefore the flamescrackled so frequently. Yes, I was there too,” said the Wind. “Let itgo, I sang down through the chimney: it will end in smoke, air, coalsand ashes! You will burn yourself! Hu-uh-ush! drive away! drive away!But Waldemar Daa did _not_ drive it away.”“The splendid black horses in the stable–what became of them? whatbecame of the old gold and silver vessels in cupboards and chests, thecows in the fields, and the house and home itself? Yes, they may melt,may melt in the golden crucible, and yet yield no gold.“Empty grew the barns and store-rooms, the cellars and magazines. Theservants decreased in number, and the mice multiplied. Then a windowbroke, and then another, and I could get in elsewhere besides at thedoor,” said the Wind. “‘Where the chimney smokes the meal is beingcooked,’ the proverb says. But here the chimney smoked that devouredall the meals, for the sake of the red gold.“I blew through the courtyard-gate like a watchman blowing his horn,”the Wind went on, “but no watchman was there. I twirled theweathercock round on the summit of the tower, and it creaked like thesnoring of the warder, but no warder was there; only mice and ratswere there. Poverty laid the tablecloth; poverty sat in the wardrobeand in the larder; the door fell off its hinges, cracks and fissuresmade their appearance, and I went in and out at pleasure; and that ishow I know all about it.“Amid smoke and ashes, amid sorrow and sleepless nights, the hair andbeard of the master turned grey, and deep furrows showed themselvesaround his temples; his skin turned pale and yellow, as his eyeslooked greedily for the gold, the desired gold.“I blew the smoke and ashes into his face and beard: the result of hislabour was debt instead of pelf. I sung through the burst window-panesand the yawning clefts in the walls. I blew into the chests of drawersbelonging to the daughters, wherein lay the clothes that had becomefaded and threadbare from being worn over and over again. That was notthe song that had been sung at the children’s cradle. The lordly lifehad changed to a life of penury. I was the only one who rejoiced aloudin that castle,” said the Wind. “I snowed them up, and they say snowkeeps people warm. They had no wood, and the forest from which theymight have brought it was cut down. It was a biting frost. I rushed inthrough loopholes and passages, over gables and roofs, that I might bebrisk. They were lying in bed because of the cold, the three high-borndaughters; and their father was crouching under his leathern coverlet.Nothing to bite, nothing to break, no fire on the hearth–there was alife for high-born people! Huh-sh, let it go! But that is what my LordDaa could _not_ do–he could _not_ let it go.“‘After winter comes spring,’ he said. ‘After want, good times willcome: one must not lose patience; one must learn to wait! Now my houseand lands are mortgaged, it is indeed high time; and the gold willsoon come. At Easter!’“I heard how he spoke thus, looking at a spider’s web. ‘Thou cunninglittle weaver, thou dost teach me perseverance. Let them tear thy web,and thou wilt begin it again, and complete it. Let them destroy itagain, and thou wilt resolutely begin to work again–again! That iswhat we must do, and that will repay itself at last.’“It was the morning of Easter-day. The bells sounded from theneighbouring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice in the sky. Themaster had watched through the night in feverish excitement, and hadbeen melting and cooling, distilling and mixing. I heard him sighinglike a soul in despair; I heard him praying, and I noticed how he heldhis breath. The lamp was burnt out, but he did not notice it. I blewat the fire of coals, and it threw its red glow upon his ghastly whiteface, lighting it up with a glare, and his sunken eyes looked forthwildly out of their deep sockets–but they became larger and larger,as though they would burst.“Look at the alchymic glass! It glows in the crucible, red-hot, andpure and heavy! He lifted it with a trembling hand, and cried with atrembling voice, ‘Gold! gold!’“He was quite dizzy–I could have blown him down,” said the Wind; “butI only fanned the glowing coals, and accompanied him through the doorto where his daughters sat shivering. His coat was powdered withashes, and there were ashes in his beard and in his tangled hair. Hestood straight up, and held his costly treasure on high, in thebrittle glass. ‘Found, found!–Gold, gold!’ he shouted, and again heldaloft the glass to let it flash in the sunshine; but his handtrembled, and the alchymic glass fell clattering to the ground, andbroke into a thousand pieces; and the last bubble of his happiness hadburst! Hu-uh-ush! rushing away!–and I rushed away from thegold-maker’s house.“Late in autumn, when the days are short, and the mist comes andstrews cold drops upon the berries and leafless branches, I came backin fresh spirits, rushed through the air, swept the sky clear, andsnapped the dry twigs–which is certainly no great labour, but yet itmust be done. Then there was another kind of sweeping clean atWaldemar Daa’s, in the mansion of Borreby. His enemy, Owe Rainel, ofBasnäs, was there with the mortgage of the house and everything itcontained in his pocket. I drummed against the broken window-panes,beat against the old rotten doors, and whistled through cracks andrifts–huh-sh! Mr. Owe Rainel did not like staying there. Ida and AnnaDorothea wept bitterly; Joanna stood pale and proud, and bit her thumbtill it bled–but what could that avail? Owe Rainel offered to allowWaldemar Daa to remain in the mansion till the end of his life, but nothanks were given him for his offer. I listened to hear what occurred.I saw the ruined gentleman lift his head and throw it back prouderthan ever, and I rushed against the house and the old lime trees withsuch force, that one of the thickest branches broke, one that was notdecayed; and the branch remained lying at the entrance as a broomwhen any one wanted to sweep the place out: and a grand sweeping outthere was–I thought it would be so.“It was hard on that day to preserve one’s composure; but their willwas as hard as their fortune.“There was nothing they could call their own except the clothes theywore: yes, there was one thing more–the alchymist’s glass, a new onethat had lately been bought, and filled with what had been gathered upfrom the ground of the treasure which promised so much but never keptits promise. Waldemar Daa hid the glass in his bosom, and taking hisstick in his hand, the once rich gentleman passed with his daughtersout of the house of Borreby. I blew cold upon his heated cheeks, Istroked his grey beard and his long white hair, and I sang as well asI could,–‘Huh-sh! gone away! gone away!’ And that was the end of thewealth and splendour.“Ida walked on one side of the old man, and Anna Dorothea on theother. Joanna turned round at the entrance–why? Fortune would notturn because she did so. She looked at the old walls of what had oncebeen the castle of Marsk Stig, and perhaps she thought of hisdaughters:‘The eldest gave the youngest her hand.And forth they went to the far-off land.’Was she thinking of this old song? Here were three of them, and theirfather was with them too. They walked along the road on which they hadonce driven in their splendid carriage–they walked forth as beggars,with their father, and wandered out into the open field, and into amud hut, which they rented for a dollar and a half a year–into theirnew house with the empty rooms and empty vessels. Crows and magpiesfluttered above them, and cried, as if in contempt, ‘Craw! craw! outof the nest! craw! craw!’ as they had done in the wood at Borreby whenthe trees were felled.“Daa and his daughters could not help hearing it. I blew about theirears, for what use would it be that they should listen?“And they went to live in the mud hut on the open field, and I wanderedaway over moor and field, through bare bushes and leafless forests, to theopen waters, the free shores, to other lands–huh-uh-ush!–away, away! yearafter year!”And how did Waldemar Daa and his daughters prosper? The Wind tells us:“The one I saw last, yes, for the last time, was Anna Dorothea, thepale hyacinth: then she was old and bent, for it was fifty yearsafterwards. She lived longer than the rest; she knew all.“Yonder on the heath, by the Jutland town of Wiborg, stood the finenew house of the canon, built of red bricks with projecting gables;the smoke came up thickly from the chimney. The canon’s gentle ladyand her beautiful daughters sat in the bay window, and looked over thehawthorn hedge of the garden towards the brown heath. What were theylooking at? Their glances rested upon the stork’s nest without, andon the hut, which was almost falling in; the roof consisted of mossand houseleek, in so far as a roof existed there at all–the stork’snest covered the greater part of it, and that alone was in propercondition, for it was kept in order by the stork himself.“That is a house to be looked at, but not to be touched; I must dealgently with it,” said the Wind. “For the sake of the stork’s nest thehut has been allowed to stand, though it was a blot upon thelandscape. They did not like to drive the stork away, therefore theold shed was left standing, and the poor woman who dwelt in it wasallowed to stay: she had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or wasit perchance her reward, because she had once interceded for the nestof its black brother in the forest of Borreby? At that time she, thepoor woman, was a young child, a pale hyacinth in the rich garden. Sheremembered all that right well, did Anna Dorothea.“‘Oh! oh!’ Yes, people can sigh like the wind moaning in the rushesand reeds. ‘Oh! oh!'” she sighed, “no bells sounded at thy burial,Waldemar Daa! The poor schoolboys did not even sing a psalm when theformer lord of Borreby was laid in the earth to rest! Oh, everythinghas an end, even misery. Sister Ida became the wife of a peasant. Thatwas the hardest trial that befell our father, that the husband of adaughter of his should be a miserable serf, whom the proprietor couldmount on the wooden horse for punishment! I suppose he is under theground now. And thou, Ida? Alas, alas! it is not ended yet, wretchthat I am! Grant me that I may die, kind Heaven!’“That was Anna Dorothea’s prayer in the wretched hut which was leftstanding for the sake of the stork.“I took pity on the fairest of the sisters,” said the Wind. “Hercourage was like that of a man, and in man’s clothes she took serviceas a sailor on board of a ship. She was sparing of words, and of adark countenance, but willing at her work. But she did not know how toclimb; so I blew her overboard before anybody found out that she was awoman, and according to my thinking that was well done!” said theWind.“On such an Easter morning as that on which Waldemar Daa had fanciedthat he had found the red gold, I heard the tones of a psalm under thestork’s nest, among the crumbling walls–it was Anna Dorothea’s lastsong.“There was no window, only a hole in the wall. The sun rose up like amass of gold, and looked through. What a splendour he diffused! Hereyes were breaking, and her heart was breaking–but that they wouldhave done, even if the sun had not shone that morning on AnnaDorothea.“The stork covered her hut till her death. I sang at her grave!” saidthe Wind. “I sang at her father’s grave; I know where his grave is,and where hers is, and nobody else knows it.“New times, changed times! The old high-road now runs throughcultivated fields; the new road winds among the trim ditches, and soonthe railway will come with its train of carriages, and rush over thegraves which are forgotten like the names–hu-ush! passed away, passedaway!“That is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. Tell it better,any of you, if you know how,” said the Wind, and turned away–and hewas gone.
On a day Fin went out hunting with his dog Bran, on Knock an Ar; and he killed so much game that he didn’t know what to do with it or how to bring it home. As he stood looking and thinking, all at once he saw a man running towards him, with a rope around his waist so long that half his body was covered with it; and the man was of such size that, as he ran, Fin could see the whole world between his legs and nothing between his head and the sky. When he came up, the man saluted Fin, who answered him most kindly. “Where are you going?” asked Fin. “I am out looking for a master.” “Well,” said Fin, “I am in sore need of a man; what can you do?” “Do you see this rope on my body? Whatever this rope will bind I can carry.” “If that is true,” said Fin, “you are the man I want. Do you see the game on this hillside?” “I do,” said the man. “Well, put that into the rope and carry it to my castle.”The man put all the game into the rope, made a great bundle, and threw it on his back.“Show me the way to the castle now,” said he. Fin started on ahead, and though he ran with all his might, he could not gain one step on the man who followed with the game. The sentry on guard at the castle saw the man running while yet far off. He stepped inside the gate and said: “There is a man coming with a load on his back as big as a mountain.” Before he could come out again to his place the man was there and the load off his back. When the game came to the ground, it shook the castle to its foundations. Next day the man was sent to herd cows for a time, and while he was gone, Conán Maol said to Fin: “If you don’t put this cowherd to death, he will destroy all the Fenians of Erin.” “How could I put such a good man to death?” asked Fin. “Send him,” said Conán, “to sow corn on the brink of a lake in the north of Erin. Now, in that lake lives a serpent that never lets a person pass, but swallows every man that goes that way.” Fin agreed to this, and the next morning after breakfast he called the man, gave him seven bullocks, a plough, and a sack of grain, and sent him to the lake in the north of Erin to sow corn. When he came to the lake, the man started to plough, drew one furrow. The lake began to boil up, and as he was coming back, making the second furrow, the serpent was on the field before him and swallowed the seven bullocks and the plough up to the handles. But the man held fast to what he had in his two hands, gave a pull, and dragged the plough and six of the bullocks out of the belly of the serpent. The seventh one remained inside. The serpent went at him and they fought for seven days and nights. At the end of that time the serpent was as tame as a cat, and the man drove him and the six bullocks home before him.When he was in sight of Fin’s castle, the sentry at the gate ran in and cried: “That cowherd is coming with the size of a mountain before him!” “Run out,” said Conán Maol, “and tell him to tie the serpent to that oak out there.”They ran out, and the man tied the serpent to the oak-tree, then came in and had a good supper.Next morning the man went out to herd cows as before. “Well,” said Conán Maol to Fin, “if you don’t put this man to death, he’ll destroy you and me and all the Fenians of Erin.”“How could I put such a man to death?”“There is,” said Conán, “a bullock in the north of Erin, and he drives fog out of himself for seven days and then he draws it in for seven other days. To-morrow is the last day for drawing it in. If any one man comes near, he’ll swallow him alive.”When the cowherd came to supper in the evening, Fin said to him: “I am going to have a feast and need fresh beef. Now there is a bullock in that same valley by the lake in the north of Erin where you punished the serpent; and if you go there and bring the bullock to me, you’ll have my thanks.”“I’ll go,” said the man, “the first thing after breakfast in the morning.”So off he went next morning; and when he came near the valley, he found the bullock asleep and drawing in the last of the fog; and soon he found himself going in with it. So he caught hold of a great oak-tree for safety. The bullock woke up then and saw him, and letting a roar out of himself, faced him, and gave him a pitch with his horn which sent him seven miles over the top of a wood. And when he fell to the ground, the bullock was on him again before he had time to rise, and gave him another pitch which sent him back and broke three ribs in his body.“This will never do,” said the man, as he rose, and pulling up an oak-tree by the roots for a club, he faced the bullock. And there they were at one another for five days and nights, till the bullock was as tame as a cat and the man drove him home to Fin’s castle. The sentry saw them coming and ran inside the gate with word. “Tell the man to tie the bullock to that oak-tree beyond,” said Conán. “We don’t want him near this place.” The cowherd tied the bullock, and told Fin to send four of the best butchers in Erin to kill him with an axe; and the four of them struck him one after another and any of them couldn’t knock him.“Give me an axe,” said the man to the butchers. They gave him the axe, and the first stroke he gave, he knocked the bullock. Then they began to skin him; but the man didn’t like the way they were doing the work, so he took his sword and had three quarters of the bullock skinned before they could skin one.Next morning the cowherd went out with the cows; but he wasn’t long gone when Conán Maol came to Fin and said: “If you don’t put an end to that man, he’ll soon put an end to you and to me and to all of us, so there won’t be a man of the Fenians of Erin left alive.”“How could I put an end to a man like him?” asked Fin.“There is in the north of Erin,” said Conán, “a wild sow who has two great pigs of her own; and she and her two pigs have bags of poison in their tails; and when they see any man, they run at him and shake their poison bags; and if the smallest drop of the poison touches him, it is death to him that minute. And, if by any chance he should escape the wild sow and the pigs, there is a fox-man called the Gruagach, who has but one eye and that in the middle of his forehead. The Gruagach carries a club of a ton weight, and if the cowherd gets one welt of that club, he’ll never trouble the Fenians of Erin again.”Next morning Fin called up the cowherd and said, “I am going to have a feast in this castle, and I would like to have some fresh pork. There is a wild sow in the north of Erin with two pigs, and if you bring her to me before the feast, you’ll have my thanks.”“I’ll go and bring her to you,” said the cowherd. So after breakfast he took his sword, went to the north of Erin, and stole up to the sow and two pigs, and whipped the tails off the three of them, before they knew he was in it. Then he faced the wild sow and fought with her for four days and five nights, and on the morning of the fifth day he knocked her dead. At the last blow, his sword stuck in her backbone and he couldn’t draw it out. But with one pull he broke the blade, and stood there over her with only the hilt in his hand. Then he put his foot on one of her jaws, took the other in his hands, and splitting her evenly from the nose to the tail, made two halves of her.He threw one half on his shoulder; and that minute the big Gruagach with one eye in his head came along and made an offer of his club at him to kill him. But the cowherd jumped aside, and catching the Gruagach by one of his legs, threw him up on to the half of the wild sow on his shoulder, and taking the other half of her from the ground, clapped that on the top of the Gruagach, and ran away to Fin’s castle as fast as his legs could carry him.The sentry at the castle gate ran in and said: “The cowherd is running to the castle, and the size of a mountain on his back.” “Go out now,” said Conán Maol, “and stop him where he is, or he’ll throw down the castle if he comes here with the load that’s on him.” But before the sentry was back at his place, the cowherd was at the gate shaking the load off his back and the castle to its foundations, so that every dish and vessel in it was broken to bits.The Gruagach jumped from the ground, rubbed his legs and every part of him that was sore from the treatment he got. He was so much in dread of the cowherd that he ran with all the strength that was in him, and never stopped to look back till he was in the north of Erin.Next morning the cowherd went out with the cows, drove them back in the evening, and while picking the thigh-bone of a bullock for his supper, Oscar, son of Oisin, the strongest man of the Fenians of Erin, came up to him and took hold of the bone to pull it from his hand. The cowherd held one end and Oscar the other, and pulled till they made two halves of the bone. “What did you carry away?” asked the cowherd. “What I have in my hand,” said Oscar. “And I kept what I held in my fist,” said the cowherd. “There is that for you now,” said Oscar, and he hit him a slap.The cowherd said no word in answer, but next morning he asked his wages of Fin. “Oh, then,” said Fin, “I’ll pay you and welcome, for you are the best man I have ever had or met with.”Then the cowherd went away to Cahirciveen in Kerry where he had an enchanted castle. But before he went he invited Fin MacCumhail and the Fenians of Erin to have a great feast with him. “For,” said he to Fin, “I’m not a cowherd at all, but the son of the king of Alba, and I’ll give you good cheer.”When the Fenians came to the place, they found the finest castle that could be seen. There were three fires in each room and seven spits at every fire. When they had gone and sat down in their places, there was but one fire in each room. “Rise up, every man of you,” said Fin, “or we are lost; for this is an enchanted place.”They tried to rise, but each man was fastened to his seat, and the seat to the floor; and not one of them could stir. Then the last fire went out and they were in darkness.“Chew your thumb,” said Conán to Fin, “and try is there any way out of here.” Fin chewed his thumb and knew what trouble they were in. Then he put his two hands into his mouth and blew the old-time whistle. And this whistle was heard by Pogán and Ceolán, two sons of Fin who were in the North at that time, one fishing and the other hurling.When they heard the whistle, they said: “Our father and the Fenians of Erin are in trouble.” And they faced towards the sound and never stopped till they knocked at the door of the enchanted castle of the son of Alba at Cahirciveen.“Who is there?” asked Fin.“Your two sons,” said one of them.“Well,” said Fin, “we are in danger of death to-night. That cowherd I had in my service was no cowherd at all, but the son of the king of Alba; and his father has said that he will not eat three meals off one table without having my head. There is an army now on the road to kill us to-night. There is no way in or out of this castle but by one ford, and to that ford the army of the king of Alba is coming.”The two sons of Fin went out at nightfall and stood in the ford before the army. The son of the king of Alba knew them well, and calling each by name, said: “Won’t you let us pass?” “We will not,” said they; and then the fight began. The two sons of Fin MacCumhail, Pogán and Ceolán, destroyed the whole army and killed every man except the son of the king of Alba.After the battle the two went back to their father. “We have destroyed the whole army at the ford,” said they.“There is a greater danger ahead,” said Fin. “There is an old hag coming with a little pot. She will dip her finger in the pot, touch the lips of the dead men, and bring the whole army to life. But first of all there will be music at the ford, and if you hear the music, you’ll fall asleep. Now go, but if you do not overpower the old hag, we are lost.”“We’ll do the best we can,” said the two sons of Fin.They were not long at the ford when one said, “I am falling asleep from that music.” “So am I,” said the other. “Knock your foot down on mine,” said the first. The other kicked his foot and struck him, but no use. Then each took his spear and drove it through the foot of the other, but both fell asleep in spite of the spears.The old hag went on touching the lips of the dead men, who stood up alive; and she was crossing the ford at the head of the army when she stumbled over the two sleeping brothers and spilt what was in the pot over their bodies.They sprang up fresh and well, and picking up two stones of a ton weight each that were there in the ford, they made for the champions of Alban and never stopped till they killed the last man of them; and then they killed the old hag herself.Pogán and Ceolán then knocked at the door of the castle.“Who’s there?” asked Fin.“Your two sons,” said they; “and we have killed all the champions of Alban and the old hag as well.” “You have more to do yet,” said Fin. “There are three kings in the north of Erin who have three silver goblets. These kings are holding a feast in a fort to-day. You must go and cut the heads off the three, put their blood in the goblets and bring them here. When you come, rub the blood on the keyhole of the door and it will open before you. When you come in, rub the seats and we shall all be free.”The three goblets of blood were brought to Cahirciveen, the door of the castle flew open, and light came into every room. The brothers rubbed blood on the chairs of all the Fenians of Erin and freed them all, except Conán Maol, who had no chair, but sat on the floor with his back to the wall. When they came to him the last drop of blood was gone.All the Fenians of Erin were hurrying past, anxious to escape, and paid no heed to Conán, who had never a good word in his mouth for any man. Then Conán turned to Diarmuid, and said: “If a woman were here in place of me, you wouldn’t leave her to die this way.” Then Diarmuid turned, took him by one hand, and Goll MacMorna by the other, and pulling with all their might, tore him from the wall and the floor. But if they did, he left all the skin of his back from his head to his heels on the floor and the wall behind him. But when they were going home through the hills of Tralee, they found a sheep on the way, killed it, and clapped the skin on Conán. The sheepskin grew to his body; and he was so well and strong that they sheared him every year, and got wool enough from his back to make flannel and frieze for the Fenians of Erin ever after.
There was, once upon a time, long ago, a wrestler living in a far country, who, hearing there was a mighty man in India, determined to have a fall with him; so, tying up ten thousand pounds weight of flour in his blanket, he put the bundle on his head and set off jauntily. Towards evening he came to a little pond in the middle of the desert, and sat down to eat his dinner. First, he stooped down and took a good long drink of the water; then, emptying his flour into the remainder of the pond, stirred it into good thick brose, off which he made a hearty meal, and lying down under a tree, soon fell fast asleep.Now, for many years an elephant had drunk daily at the pond, and, coming as usual that evening for its draught, was surprised to find nothing but a little mud and flour at the bottom.‘What shall I do?’ it said to itself, ‘for there is no more water to be found for twenty miles!’Going away disconsolate, it espied the wrestler sleeping placidly under the tree, and at once made sure he was the author of the mischief; so, galloping up to the sleeping man, it stamped on his head in a furious rage, determined to crush him.But, to his astonishment, the wrestler only stirred a little, and said sleepily, ‘What is the matter? what is the matter? If you want to shampoo my head, why the plague don’t you do it properly? What’s worth doing at all is worth doing well; so put a little of your weight into it, my friend!’The elephant stared, and left off stamping; but, nothing daunted, seized the wrestler round the waist with its trunk, intending to heave him up and dash him to pieces on the ground. ‘Ho! ho! my little friend!—that is your plan, is it?’ quoth the wrestler, with a yawn; and catching hold of the elephant’s tail, and swinging the monster over his shoulder, he continued his journey jauntily.By and by he reached his destination, and, standing outside the Indian wrestler’s house, cried out, ‘Ho! my friend! Come out and try a fall!’‘My husband’s not at home to-day,’ answered the wrestler’s wife from inside; ‘he has gone into the wood to cut pea-sticks.’‘Well, well! when he returns give him this, with my compliments, and tell him the owner has come from far to challenge him.’So saying, he chucked the elephant clean over the courtyard wall.‘Oh, mamma! mamma!’ cried a treble voice from within, ‘I declare that nasty man has thrown a mouse over the wall into my lap! What shall I do to him?’‘Never mind, little daughter!’ answered the wrestler’s wife; ‘papa will teach him better manners. Take the grass broom and sweep the mouse away.’Then there was a sound of sweeping, and immediately the dead elephant came flying over the wall.‘Ahem!’ thought the wrestler outside, ‘if the little daughter can do this, the father will be a worthy foe!’So he set off to the wood to meet the Indian wrestler, whom he soon saw coming along the road, dragging a hundred and sixty carts laden with brushwood.‘Now we shall see!’ quoth the stranger, with a wink; and stealing behind the carts, he laid hold of the last, and began to pull.‘That’s a deep rut!’ thought the Indian wrestler, and pulled a little harder. So it went on for an hour, but not an inch one way or the other did the carts budge.‘I believe there is some one hanging on behind!’ quoth the Indian wrestler at last, and walked back to see who it was. Whereupon the stranger, coming to meet him, said, ‘We seem pretty well matched; let us have a fall together.’‘With all my heart!’ answered the other, ‘but not here alone in the wilds; it is no fun fighting without applause.’‘But I haven’t time to wait!’ said the stranger; ‘I have to be off at once, so it must be here or nowhere.’Just then an old woman came hurrying by with big strides.‘Here’s an audience!’ cried the wrestler, and called aloud, ‘Mother! mother! stop and see fair play!’‘I can’t, my sons, I can’t!’ she replied, ‘for my daughter is going to steal my camels, and I am off to stop her; but if you like, you can jump on to the palm of my hand, and wrestle there as I go along.’So the wrestlers jumped on to the old woman’s palm, and wrestled away as she strode over hill and dale.Now when the old woman’s daughter saw her mother, with the wrestlers wrestling on her hand, she said to herself, ‘Here she comes, with the soldiers she spoke about! It is time for me to be off!’So she picked up the hundred and sixty camels, tied them in her blanket, and swinging it over her shoulder, set off at a run.But one of the camels put its head out of the blanket and began groaning and hubble-bubble-ubbling, after the manner of camels; so, to quiet it, the girl tore down a tree or two, and stuffed them into the bundle also. On this, the farmer to whom the trees belonged came running up, and calling, ‘Stop thief! stop thief!’‘Thief, indeed!’ quoth the girl angrily; and with that she bundled farmer, fields, crops, oxen, house, and all into the blanket.Soon she came to a town, and being hungry, asked a pastry-cook to give her some sweets; but he refused, so she caught up the town bodily; and so on with everything she met, until her blanket was quite full.At last she came to a big water-melon, and being thirsty, she sat down to eat it; and afterwards, feeling sleepy, she determined to rest a while. But the camels in her bundle made such a hubble-bubble-ubbling that they disturbed her, so she just packed everything into the lower half of the water-melon rind, and popping on the upper half as a lid, she rolled herself in the blanket and used the melon as a pillow.Now, while she slept, a big flood arose, and carried off the water-melon, which, after floating down stream ever so far, stuck on a mud-bank. The top fell off, and out hopped the camels, the trees, the farmer, the oxen, the house, the town, and all the other things, until there was quite a new world on the mud-bank in the middle of the river.
A Crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a Pitcher which had once been full of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of the Pitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that he could not reach far enough down to get at it. He tried, and he tried, but at last had to give up in despair. Then a thought came to him, and he took a pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. At last, at last, he saw the water mount up near him, and after casting in a few more pebbles he was able to quench his thirst and save his life. Little by little does the trick.
A sportsman went out once into a wood to shoot, and he met a Snipe.“Dear friend,” said the Snipe, “don’t shoot my children!”“How shall I know your children?” asked the Sportsman. “What are they like?”“Oh!” said the Snipe, “mine are the prettiest children in all the wood.”“Very well,” said the Sportsman, “I’ll not shoot them; don’t be afraid.”But for all that, when he came back, there he had a whole string of young snipes in his hand which he had shot.“Oh, oh!” said the Snipe, “why did you shoot my children after all?”“What! these your children!” said the Sportsman; “why, I shot the ugliest I could find, that I did!”“Woe is me!” said the Snipe; “don’t you know that each one thinks his own children the prettiest in the world?”
There was once a father who had thirteen sons, the youngest of whom was named Thirteenth. The father had hard work to support his children, but made what he could gathering herbs. The mother, to make the children quick, said to them: “The one who comes home first shall have herb soup.” Thirteenth always returned the first, and the soup always fell to his share, on which account his brothers hated him and sought to get rid of him.The king issued a proclamation in the city that he who was bold enough to go and steal the ogre’s coverlet should receive a measure of gold. Thirteenth’s brothers went to the king and said: “Majesty, we have a brother, named Thirteenth, who is confident that he can do that and other things too.” The king said: “Bring him to me at once.” They brought Thirteenth, who said: “Majesty, how is it possible to steal the ogre’s coverlet? If he sees me he will eat me!” “No matter, you must go,” said the king. “I know that you are bold, and this act of bravery you must perform.” Thirteenth departed and went to the house of the ogre, who was away. The ogress was in the kitchen. Thirteenth entered quietly and hid himself under the bed. At night the ogre returned. He ate his supper and went to bed, saying as he did so:After a time the king issued another proclamation, that whoever would steal the ogre’s horse and bring it to the king should receive a measure of gold. Thirteenth again presented himself, and asked for a silk ladder and a bag of cakes. With these things he departed, and went at night to the ogre’s, climbed up without being heard, and descended to the stable. The horse neighed on seeing him, but he offered it a cake, saying: “Do you see how sweet it is? If you will come with me, my master will give you these always.” Then he gave it another, saying: “Let me mount you and see how we go.” So he mounted it, kept feeding it with cakes, and brought it to the king’s stable.The king issued another proclamation, that he would give a measure of gold to whoever would bring him the ogre’s bolster. Thirteenth said: “Majesty, how is that possible? The bolster is full of little bells, and you must know that the ogre awakens at a breath.”“I know nothing about it,” said the king. “I wish it at any cost.” Thirteenth departed, and went and crept under the ogre’s bed. At midnight he stretched out his hand very softly, but the little bells all sounded.“What is that?” said the ogre.“Nothing,” replied the ogress; “perhaps it is the wind that makes them ring.” But the ogre, who was suspicious, pretended to sleep, but kept his ears open. Thirteenth stretched out his hand again. Alack! the ogre put out his arm and seized him. “Now you are caught! Just wait; I will make you cry for your first trick, for your second, and for your third.” After this he put Thirteenth in a barrel, and began to feed him on raisins and figs.After a time he said: “Stick out your finger, little Thirteenth, so that I can see whether you are fat.” Thirteenth saw there a mouse’s tail, and stuck that out. “Ah, how thin you are!” said the ogre; “and besides, you don’t smell good! Eat, my son; take the raisins and figs, and get fat soon!” After some days the ogre told him again to put out his finger, and Thirteenth stuck out a spindle. “Eh, wretch! are you still lean? Eat, eat, and get fat soon.”At the end of a month Thirteenth had nothing more to stick out, and was obliged to show his finger. The ogre cried out in joy: “He is fat, he is fat!” The ogress hastened to the spot: “Quick, my ogress, heat the oven three nights and three days, for I am going to invite our relatives, and we will make a fine banquet of Thirteenth.”The ogress heated the oven three days and three nights, and then released Thirteenth from the barrel, and said to him: “Come here, Thirteenth; we have got to put the lamb in the oven.” But Thirteenth caught her meaning; and when he approached the oven, he said: “Ah, mother ogress, what is that black thing in the corner of the oven?”The ogress stooped down a little, but saw nothing. “Stoop down again,” said Thirteenth, “so that you can see it.” When she stooped down again, Thirteenth seized her by the feet and threw her into the oven, and then closed the oven door. When she was cooked, he took her out carefully, cut her in two, divided her legs into pieces, and put them on the table, and placed her trunk, with her head and arms, in the bed, under the sheet, and tied a string to the chin and another to the back of her head.When the ogre arrived with his guests he found the dishes on the table. Then he went to his wife’s bed and asked: “Mother ogress, do you want to dine?” Thirteenth pulled the string, and the ogress shook her head. “How are you, tired?”And Thirteenth, who was hidden under the bed, pulled the other string and made her nod. Now it happened that one of her relatives moved something and saw that the ogress was dead, and only half of her was there. She cried in a loud voice: “Treason! treason!” and all hastened to the bed. In the midst of the confusion Thirteenth escaped from under the bed and ran away to the king with the bolster and the ogre’s most valuable things.After this, the king said to Thirteenth: “Listen, Thirteenth. To complete your valiant exploits, I wish you to bring me the ogre himself, in person, alive and well.”“How can I, your Majesty?” said Thirteenth. Then he roused himself, and added: “I see how, now!” Then he had a very strong chest made, and disguised himself as a monk, with a long, false beard, and went to the ogre’s house, and called out to him: “Do you know Thirteenth? The wretch! he has killed our superior; but if I catch him! If I catch him, I will shut him up in this chest!”At these words the ogre drew near and said: “I, too, would like to help you, against that wretch of an assassin, for you don’t know what he has done to me.”And he began to tell his story. “But what shall we do?” said the pretended monk. “I do not know Thirteenth. Do you know him?”“Yes, sir.”“Then tell me, father ogre, how tall is he?”“As tall as I am.”“If that is so,” said Thirteenth, “let us see whether this chest will hold you; if it will hold you, it will hold him.”“Oh, good!” said the ogre; and got into the chest. Then Thirteenth shut the chest and said: “Look carefully, father ogre, and see whether there is any hole in the chest.” “There is none.” “Just wait; let us see whether it shuts well, and is heavy to carry.”Meanwhile Thirteenth shut and nailed up the chest, took it on his back, and hastened to the city. When the ogre cried: “Enough, now!” Thirteenth ran all the faster, and, laughing, sang this song to taunt the ogre:When he reached the king, the king had an iron chain attached to the ogre’s hands and feet, and made him gnaw bones the rest of his miserable life. The king gave Thirteenth all the riches and treasures he could bestow on him, and always wished him at his side, as a man of the highest valor.
A Soldier gave his Horse a plentiful supply of oats in time of war, and tended him with the utmost care, for he wished him to be strong to endure the hardships of the field, and swift to bear his master, when need arose, out of the reach of danger. But when the war was over he employed him on all sorts of drudgery, bestowing but little attention upon him, and giving him, moreover, nothing but chaff to eat. The time came when war broke out again, and the Soldier saddled and bridled his Horse, and, having put on his heavy coat of mail, mounted him to ride off and take the field. But the poor half-starved beast sank down under his weight, and said to his rider, “You will have to go into battle on foot this time. Thanks to hard work and bad food, you have turned me from a Horse into an ass; and you cannot in a moment turn me back again into a Horse.”
There was here once in our village a certain Avstriyat, who was such a wizard that he could cause rain or hail to pass away when he chose. It happened that we were cutting corn in the country; a cloud came up. We began to hurry off the sheaves, but he took no notice, cut and cut away by himself, smoked his pipe, and said: ‘Don’t be frightened—there’ll be no rain.’ Lo and behold, there was no rain. Once—all this I saw with my own eyes—we were cutting rye, when the sky became black, the wind rose: it began to whistle at first afar off, then over our very heads. There was thunder, lightning, whirlwind—such a tempest, that—O God! Thy will be done! We went after our sheaves, but he—‘Don’t be frightened, there’ll be no rain.’ ‘Where won’t it be?’ We didn’t hearken to him. But he smoked his pipe out, and cut away quietly by himself. Up came a man on a black horse, and all black himself: he darted straight up to Avstriyat: ‘Hey! give permission!’ said he. Avstriyat replied: ‘No, I won’t!’ ‘Give permission; be merciful!’ ‘I won’t. It would be impossible to get such a quantity in.’ The black horseman bowed to the man, and hastened off over the country.Then the black cloud became gray and whitened. Our elders feared that there would be hail. But Avstriyat took no notice. He cut the corn by himself and smoked his pipe. But again a horseman came up; he hastened over the country still quicker than the first. But this one was all in white, and on a white horse. ‘Give permission!’ he shouted to Avstriyat. ‘I won’t!’ ‘Give permission, for God’s sake!’ ‘I won’t. It wouldn’t be possible to get such a quantity in.’ ‘Hey! give permission; I can’t hold out!’ Then, and not till then, did Avstriyat relent. ‘Well, then, go now, but only into the glen, which is beyond the plain.’ Scarcely had he spoken, when the horseman disappeared, and hail poured down as out of a basket. In the course of a short hour it filled the glen brimful, level with the banks.
Eyamba I. of Calabar was a very powerful king. He fought and conquered all the surrounding countries, killing all the old men and women, but the able-bodied men and girls he caught and brought back as slaves, and they worked on the farms until they died.This king had two hundred wives, but none of them had borne a son to him. His subjects, seeing that he was becoming an old man, begged him to marry one of the spider’s daughters, as they always had plenty of children. But when the king saw the spider’s daughter he did not like her, as she was ugly, and the people said it was because her mother had had so many children at the same time. However, in order to please his people he married the ugly girl, and placed her among his other wives, but they all complained because she was so ugly, and said she could not live with them. The king, therefore, built her a separate house for herself, where she was given food and drink the same as the other wives. Every one jeered at her on account of her ugliness; but she was not really ugly, but beautiful, as she was born with two skins, and at her birth her mother was made to promise that she should never remove the ugly skin until a certain time arrived save only during the night, and that she must put it on again before dawn. Now the king’s head wife knew this, and was very fearful lest the king should find it out and fall in love with the spider’s daughter; so she went to a Ju Ju man and offered him two hundred rods to make a potion that would make the king forget altogether that the spider’s daughter was his wife. This the Ju Ju man finally consented to do, after much haggling over the price, for three hundred and fifty rods; and he made up some “medicine,” which the head wife mixed with the king’s food. For some months this had the effect of making the king forget the spider’s daughter, and he used to pass quite close to her without recognising her in any way. When four months had elapsed and the king had not once sent for Adiaha (for that was the name of the spider’s daughter), she began to get tired, and went back to her parents. Her father, the spider, then took her to another Ju Ju man, who, by making spells and casting lots, very soon discovered that it was the king’s head wife who had made the Ju Ju and had enchanted the king so that he would not look at Adiaha. He therefore told the spider that Adiaha should give the king some medicine which he would prepare, which would make the king remember her. He prepared the medicine, for which the spider had to pay a large sum of money; and that very day Adiaha made a small dish of food, into which she had placed the medicine, and presented it to the king. Directly he had eaten the dish his eyes were opened and he recognised his wife, and told her to come to him that very evening. So in the afternoon, being very joyful, she went down to the river and washed, and when she returned she put on her best cloth and went to the king’s palace.Directly it was dark and all the lights were out she pulled off her ugly skin, and the king saw how beautiful she was, and was very pleased with her; but when the cock crowed Adiaha pulled on her ugly skin again, and went back to her own house.This she did for four nights running, always taking the ugly skin off in the dark, and leaving before daylight in the morning. In course of time, to the great surprise of all the people, and particularly of the king’s two hundred wives, she gave birth to a son; but what surprised them most of all was that only one son was born, whereas her mother had always had a great many children at a time, generally about fifty.The king’s head wife became more jealous than ever when Adiaha had a son; so she went again to the Ju Ju man, and by giving him a large present induced him to give her some medicine which would make the king sick and forget his son. And the medicine would then make the king go to the Ju Ju man, who would tell him that it was his son who had made him sick, as he wanted to reign instead of his father. The Ju Ju man would also tell the king that if he wanted to recover he must throw his son away into the water.And the king, when he had taken the medicine, went to the Ju Ju man, who told him everything as had been arranged with the head wife. But at first the king did not want to destroy his son. Then his chief subjects begged him to throw his son away, and said that perhaps in a year’s time he might get another son. So the king at last agreed, and threw his son into the river, at which the mother grieved and cried bitterly.Then the head wife went again to the Ju Ju man and got more medicine, which made the king forget Adiaha for three years, during which time she was in mourning for her son. She then returned to her father, and he got some more medicine from his Ju Ju man, which Adiaha gave to the king. And the king knew her and called her to him again, and she lived with him as before. Now the Ju Ju who had helped Adiaha’s father, the spider, was a Water Ju Ju, and he was ready when the king threw his son into the water, and saved his life and took him home and kept him alive. And the boy grew up very strong.After a time Adiaha gave birth to a daughter, and her the jealous wife also persuaded the king to throw away. It took a longer time to persuade him, but at last he agreed, and threw his daughter into the water too, and forgot Adiaha again. But the Water Ju Ju was ready again, and when he had saved the little girl, he thought the time had arrived to punish the action of the jealous wife; so he went about amongst the head young men and persuaded them to hold a wrestling match in the market-place every week. This was done, and the Water Ju Ju told the king’s son, who had become very strong, and was very like to his father in appearance, that he should go and wrestle, and that no one would be able to stand up before him. It was then arranged that there should be a grand wrestling match, to which all the strongest men in the country were invited, and the king promised to attend with his head wife.On the day of the match the Water Ju Ju told the king’s son that he need not be in the least afraid, and that his Ju Ju was so powerful, that even the strongest and best wrestlers in the country would not be able to stand up against him for even a few minutes. All the people of the country came to see the great contest, to the winner of which the king had promised to present prizes of cloth and money, and all the strongest men came. When they saw the king’s son, whom nobody knew, they laughed and said, “Who is this small boy? He can have no chance against us.” But when they came to wrestle, they very soon found that they were no match for him. The boy was very strong indeed, beautifully made and good to look upon, and all the people were surprised to see how like he was to the king.After wrestling for the greater part of the day the king’s son was declared the winner, having thrown every one who had stood up against him; in fact, some of his opponents had been badly hurt, and had their arms or ribs broken owing to the tremendous strength of the boy. After the match was over the king presented him with cloth and money, and invited him to dine with him in the evening. The boy gladly accepted his father’s invitation; and after he had had a good wash in the river, put on his cloth and went up to the palace, where he found the head chiefs of the country and some of the king’s most favoured wives. They then sat down to their meal, and the king had his own son, whom he did not know, sitting next to him. On the other side of the boy sat the jealous wife, who had been the cause of all the trouble. All through the dinner this woman did her best to make friends with the boy, with whom she had fallen violently in love on account of his beautiful appearance, his strength, and his being the best wrestler in the country. The woman thought to herself, “I will have this boy as my husband, as my husband is now an old man and will surely soon die.” The boy, however, who was as wise as he was strong, was quite aware of everything the jealous woman had done, and although he pretended to be very flattered at the advances of the king’s head wife, he did not respond very readily, and went home as soon as he could.When he returned to the Water Ju Ju’s house he told him everything that had happened, and the Water Ju Ju said—“As you are now in high favour with the king, you must go to him to-morrow and beg a favour from him. The favour you will ask is that all the country shall be called together, and that a certain case shall be tried, and that when the case is finished, the man or woman who is found to be in the wrong shall be killed by the Egbos before all the people.”So the following morning the boy went to the king, who readily granted his request, and at once sent all round the country appointing a day for all the people to come in and hear the case tried. Then the boy went back to the Water Ju Ju, who told him to go to his mother and tell her who he was, and that when the day of the trial arrived, she was to take off her ugly skin and appear in all her beauty, for the time had come when she need no longer wear it. This the son did.When the day of trial arrived, Adiaha sat in a corner of the square, and nobody recognised the beautiful stranger as the spider’s daughter. Her son then sat down next to her, and brought his sister with him. Immediately his mother saw her she said—“This must be my daughter, whom I have long mourned as dead,” and embraced her most affectionately.The king and his head wife then arrived and sat on their stones in the middle of the square, all the people saluting them with the usual greetings. The king then addressed the people, and said that he had called them together to hear a strong palaver at the request of the young man who had been the victor of the wrestling, and who had promised that if the case went against him he would offer up his life to the Egbo. The king also said that if, on the other hand, the case was decided in the boy’s favour, then the other party would be killed, even though it were himself or one of his wives; whoever it was would have to take his or her place on the killing-stone and have their heads cut off by the Egbos. To this all the people agreed, and said they would like to hear what the young man had to say. The young man then walked round the square, and bowed to the king and the people, and asked the question, “Am I not worthy to be the son of any chief in the country?” And all the people answered “Yes!”The boy then brought his sister out into the middle, leading her by the hand. She was a beautiful girl and well made. When every one had looked at her he said, “Is not my sister worthy to be any chief’s daughter?” And the people replied that she was worthy of being any one’s daughter, even the king’s. Then he called his mother Adiaha, and she came out, looking very beautiful with her best cloth and beads on, and all the people cheered, as they had never seen a finer woman. The boy then asked them, “Is this woman worthy of being the king’s wife?” And a shout went up from every one present that she would be a proper wife for the king, and looked as if she would be the mother of plenty of fine healthy sons.Then the boy pointed out the jealous woman who was sitting next to the king, and told the people his story, how that his mother, who had two skins, was the spider’s daughter; how she had married the king, and how the head wife was jealous and had made a bad Ju Ju for the king, which made him forget his wife; how she had persuaded the king to throw himself and his sister into the river, which, as they all knew, had been done, but the Water Ju Ju had saved both of them, and had brought them up.Then the boy said: “I leave the king and all of you people to judge my case. If I have done wrong, let me be killed on the stone by the Egbos; if, on the other hand, the woman has done evil, then let the Egbos deal with her as you may decide.”When the king knew that the wrestler was his son he was very glad, and told the Egbos to take the jealous woman away, and punish her in accordance with their laws. The Egbos decided that the woman was a witch; so they took her into the forest and tied her up to a stake, and gave her two hundred lashes with a whip made from hippopotamus hide, and then burnt her alive, so that she should not make any more trouble, and her ashes were thrown into the river. The king then embraced his wife and daughter, and told all the people that she, Adiaha, was his proper wife, and would be the queen for the future.When the palaver was over, Adiaha was dressed in fine clothes and beads, and carried back in state to the palace by the king’s servants.That night the king gave a big feast to all his subjects, and told them how glad he was to get back his beautiful wife whom he had never known properly before, also his son who was stronger than all men, and his fine daughter. The feast continued for a hundred and sixty-six days; and the king made a law that if any woman was found out getting medicine against her husband, she should be killed at once. Then the king built three new compounds, and placed many slaves in them, both men and women. One compound he gave to his wife, another to his son, and the third he gave to his daughter. They all lived together quite happily for some years until the king died, when his son came to the throne and ruled in his stead.
There once lived an emperor whose name was Trojan. This emperor had goat’s ears, and he used to call in barber after barber to shave him. But whoever went in never came out again; for while the barber was shaving him, the emperor would ask what he observed uncommon in him, and when the barber would answer that he observed his goat’s ears, the Emperor Trojan would immediately cut him into pieces.At last it came to the turn of a certain barber to go, who feigned illness, and sent his apprentice instead. When the apprentice appeared before the emperor he was asked why his master did not come, and he answered, “Because he is ill.” Then the emperor sat down, and allowed the youth to shave him. As he shaved him the apprentice noticed the emperor’s goat’s ears, but when Trojan asked him what he had observed, he answered, “I have observed nothing.”Then the emperor gave him twelve ducats, and said to him,—“From this time forth you shall always come and shave me.”When the apprentice came home, his master asked him how he got on at the emperor’s, and the youth answered,—“All well; and the emperor has told me that I am to shave him in future.”Then he showed the twelve ducats he had received; but as to the emperor’s goat’s ears, of that he said nothing.From this time forth the apprentice went regularly to Trojan to shave him, and for each shaving he received twelve ducats; but he told no one that the emperor had goat’s ears.At last it began to worry and torment him that he dare tell no one his secret; and he became sick and began to pine away. His master, who could not fail to observe this, asked him what ailed him, and after much pressing the apprentice confessed that he had something on his heart which he dared not confide to any one, and he added,—”If I could only tell it to somebody, I should feel better at once.”Then said the master,—“Tell it to me, and I will faithfully keep it from everybody else; or if you fear to trust me with it, then go to the confessor and confide it to him; but if you will not do even that, then go into the fields outside the town, there dig a hole, thrust your head into it, and tell the earth three times what you know, then throw the mould in again and fill up the hole.”The apprentice chose the last course; went into the field outside the city, dug a hole, into which he thrust his head, and called out three times,—“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!”Then he filled up the hole again, and with his mind quite relieved went home.When some time had passed by, there sprang an elder-tree out of this very hole, and three slender stems grew up, beautiful and straight as tapers. Some shepherds found this elder, cut off one of the stems, and made a pipe of it. But as soon as they began to blow into the new pipe, out burst the words:“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!”The news of this strange occurrence spread immediately through the whole city, and at last the Emperor Trojan himself heard the children blowing on a pipe:“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!”He sent instantly for the barber’s apprentice, and shouted to him,—“Heh! what is this you have been telling the people about me?”The poor youth began at once to explain that he had indeed noticed the emperor’s ears, but had never told a soul of it. The emperor tore his sabre out of its sheath to hew the apprentice down, at which the youth was so frightened that he told the whole story in its order: how he had confessed himself to the earth; how an elder-tree had sprang up on the very spot; and how, when a pipe was made of one of its stems, the tale was sounded in every direction.Then the emperor took the apprentice with him in a carriage to the place, to convince himself of the truth of the story; and when they arrived there they found there was only a single stem left. The Emperor Trojan ordered a pipe to be made out of this stem, that he might hear how it sounded. As soon as the pipe was ready, and one of them blew into it, out poured the words:“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!”Then the emperor was convinced that nothing on this earth could be hidden, spared the barber apprentice’s life, and henceforth allowed any barber, without exception, to come and shave him.
In the days of the gods, Ama-no-Hashidate was the Floating Bridge of Heaven. By way of this bridge came the deities from heaven to earth, bearing their jewelled spears, their great bows and heavenly-feathered arrows, their wonder robes and their magic mirrors. Afterwards, when the direct way was closed that had been between earth and heaven, and the deities walked no more upon the Land of Fresh Rice Ears, the people still called a place Ama-no-Hashidate, for the sake of happy memory. This place is one of the Three Fair Views of Yamato. It is where a strip of land runs out into the blue sea, like a floating bridge covered with dark pine trees.There was a holy man of Kioto called Saion Zenji. He had followed the Way of the Gods from his youth up. He was also a disciple of the great Buddha; well versed was he in doctrines and philosophies; he knew the perils of illusion and the ineffable joys of Nirvana. Long hours would he pass in mystic meditation, and many of the Scriptures he had by heart. When he was on a pilgrimage he came to Ama-no-Hashidate, and he offered up thanks because the place was so lovely in his eyes.He said, “The blind and ignorant have it that trees and rocks and the green sea-water are not sentient things, but the wise know that they also sing aloud and praise the Tathagata. Here will I take up my rest, and join my voice with theirs, and will not see my home again.”So Saion Zenji, the holy man, climbed Nariai-San, the mountain over against Ama-no-Hashidate. And when he had come to the place of the Lone Pine, he built him a shrine to Kwannon the Merciful, and a hut to cover his own head.All day he chanted the Holy Sutras. From dawn to eventide he sang, till his very being was exalted and seemed to float in an ecstasy of praise. Then his voice grew so loud and clear that it was a marvel. The blue campanula of the mountain in reverence bowed its head; the great white lily distilled incense from its deep heart; the cicala shrilled aloud; the Forsaken Bird gave a long note from the thicket. About the hermit’s hut there fluttered dragon-flies and butterflies innumerable, which are the souls of the happy dead. In the far valleys the peasant people were comforted in their toil, whether they planted out the green young rice, or gathered in the ears. The sun and the wind were tempered, and the rain fell softly upon their faces. Ever and again they climbed the steep hillside to kneel at the shrine of Kwannon the Merciful, and to speak with the holy man, whose wooden bowl they would fill with rice or millet, or barley-meal or beans. Sometimes he came down and went through the villages, where he soothed the sick and touched the little children. Folks said that his very garments shone.Now in that country there came a winter season the like of which there had not been within the memory of man. First came the wind blowing wildly from the north, and then came the snow in great flakes which never ceased to fall for the period of nine days. All the folk of the valleys kept within doors as warm as might be, and those that had their winter stores fared none so ill. But, ah me, for the bitter cold upon the heights of Nariai-San! At the Lone Pine, and about the hermit’s hut, the snow was piled and drifted. The shrine of Kwannon the Merciful could no more be seen. Saion Zenji, the holy man, lived for some time upon the food that was in his wooden bowl. Then he drew about him the warm garment of thought, and passed many days in meditation, which was meat and drink and sleep to him. Howbeit, even his clear spirit could not utterly dispel the clouds of illusion. At length it came to earth and all the man trembled with bodily weakness.“Forgive me, O Kwannon the Merciful,” said Saion Zenji; “but verily it seems to me that if I have no food I die.”Slowly he rose, and painfully he pushed open the door of his hut. The snow had ceased; it was clear and cold. White were the branches of the Lone Pine, and all white the Floating Bridge.“Forgive me, O Kwannon the Merciful,” said Saion Zenji; “I know not the reason, but I am loath to depart and be with the Shades of Yomi. Save me this life, O Kwannon the Merciful.”Turning, he beheld a dappled hind lying on the snow, newly dead of the cold. He bowed his head. “Poor gentle creature,” he said, “never more shalt thou run in the hills, and nibble the grass and the sweet flowers.” And he stroked the hind’s soft flank, sorrowing.“Poor deer, I would not eat thy flesh. Is it not forbidden by the Law of the Blessed One? Is it not forbidden by the word of Kwannon the Merciful?” Thus he mused. But even as he mused he seemed to hear a voice that spoke to him, and the voice said:“Alas, Saion Zenji, if thou die of hunger and cold, what shall become of my people, the poor folk of the valleys? Shall they not be comforted any more by the Sutras of the Tathagata? Break the law to keep the law, beloved, thou that countest the world well lost for a divine song.”Then presently Saion Zenji took a knife, and cut him a piece of flesh from the side of the dappled hind. And he gathered fir cones and made a little fire and cooked the deer’s flesh in an iron pot. When it was ready he ate half of it. And his strength came to him again, and he opened his lips and sang praises to the Tathagata, and the very embers of the dying fire leapt up in flame to hear him.“Howbeit I must bury the poor deer,” said Saion Zenji. So he went to the door of his hut. But look where he might no deer nor dappled hind did he see, nor yet the mark of one in the deep snow.“It is passing strange,” he said, and wondered.As soon as might be, up came the poor folk from the valley to see how their hermit had fared through the snow and the stormy weather. “The gods send he be not dead of cold or hunger,” they said one to another. But they found him chanting in his hut, and he told them how he had eaten of the flesh of a dappled hind and was satisfied.“I cut but a hand’s breadth of the meat,” he said, “and half of it is yet in the iron pot.”But when they came to look in the pot, they found there no flesh of deer, but a piece of cedar wood gilded upon the one side. Marvelling greatly, they carried it to the shrine of Kwannon the Merciful, and when they had cleared away the deep snow, all of them went in to worship. There smiled the image of the sweet heavenly lady, golden among her golden flowers. In her right side there was a gash where the gilded wood was cut away. Then the poor folk from the valley reverently brought that which they had found in the hermit’s pot, and set it in the gash. And immediately the wound was healed and the smooth gold shone over the place. All the people fell on their faces, but the hermit stood singing the high praise of Kwannon the Merciful.The sun set in glory. The valley folk crept softly from the shrine and went down to their own homes. The cold moon and the stars shone upon the Lone Pine and the Floating Bridge and the sea. Through a rent in the shrine’s roof they illumined the face of Kwannon the Merciful, and made visible her manifold arms of love. Yet Saion Zenji, her servant, stood before her singing in an ecstasy, with tears upon his face:“O wonder-woman, strong and beautiful, Tender-hearted, pitiful, and thousand-armed! Thou hast fed me with thine own flesh— Mystery of mysteries! Poor dead dappled hind thou cam’st to me; In the deep of mine own heart thou spoke to me To keep, yet break, and breaking, keep thy law— Mystery of mysteries! Kwannon, the Merciful Lady, stay with me, Save me from the perils of illusion; Let me not be afraid of the snow or the Lone Pine. Mystery of mysteries— Thou hast refused Nirvana, Help me that I may lose the world, content, And sing the Divine Song.”
Sir James Douglas, the companion of Bruce, and well known by his appellation of the “Black Douglas,” was once, during the hottest period of the exterminating war carried on by him and his colleague Randolph, against the English, stationed at Linthaughlee, near Jedburgh. He was resting, himself and his men after the toils of many days’ fighting-marches through Teviotdale; and, according to his custom, had walked round the tents, previous to retiring to the unquiet rest of a soldier’s bed. He stood for a few minutes at the entrance to his tent contemplating the scene before him, rendered more interesting by a clear moon, whose silver beams fell, in the silence of a night without a breath of wind, calmly on the slumbers of mortals destined to mix in the melée of dreadful war, perhaps on the morrow. As he stood gazing, irresolute whether to retire to rest or indulge longer in a train of thought not very suitable to a warrior who delighted in the spirit-stirring scenes of his profession, his eye was attracted by the figure of an old woman, who approached him with a trembling step, leaning on a staff, and holding in her left hand three English cloth-shaft arrows.“You are he who is ca’ed the guid Sir James?” said the old woman.“I am, good woman,” replied Sir James. “Why hast thou wandered from the sutler’s camp?”“I dinna belang to the camp o’ the hoblers,” answered the woman. “I hae been a residenter in Linthaughlee since the day when King Alexander passed the door o’ my cottage wi’ his bonny French bride, wha was terrified awa’ frae Jedburgh by the death’s-head whilk appeared to her on the day o’ her marriage. What I hae suffered sin’ that day” (looking at the arrows in her hand) “lies between me an’ heaven.”“Some of your sons have been killed in the wars, I presume?” said Sir James.“Ye hae guessed a pairt o’ my waes,” replied the woman. “That arrow” (holding out one of the three) “carries on its point the bluid o’ my first born; that is stained wi’ the stream that poured frae the heart o’ my second; and that is red wi’ the gore in which my youngest weltered, as he gae up the life that made me childless. They were a’ shot by English hands, in different armies, in different battles. I am an honest woman, and wish to return to the English what belongs to the English; but that in the same fashion in which they were sent. The Black Douglas has the strongest arm an’ the surest ee in auld Scotland; an’ wha can execute my commission better than he?”“I do not use the bow, good woman,” replied Sir James. “I love the grasp of the dagger or the battle-axe. You must apply to some other individual to return your arrows.”“I canna tak’ them hame again,” said the woman, laying them down at the feet of Sir James. “Ye’ll see me again on St. James’ E’en.”The old woman departed as she said these words.Sir James took up the arrows, and placed them in an empty quiver that lay amongst his baggage. He retired to rest, but not to sleep. The figure of the old woman and her strange request occupied his thoughts, and produced trains of meditation which ended in nothing but restlessness and disquietude. Getting up at daybreak, he met a messenger at the entrance of his tent, who informed him that Sir Thomas de Richmont, with a force of ten thousand men, had crossed the Borders, and would pass through a narrow defile, which he mentioned, where he could be attacked with great advantage. Sir James gave instant orders to march to the spot; and, with that genius for scheming, for which he was so remarkable, commanded his men to twist together the young birch-trees on either side of the passage to prevent the escape of the enemy. This finished, he concealed his archers in a hollow way, near the gorge of the pass.The enemy came on; and when their ranks were embarrassed by the narrowness of the road, and it was impossible for the cavalry to act with effect, Sir James rushed upon them at the head of his horsemen; and the archers, suddenly discovering themselves, poured in a flight of arrows on the confused soldiers, and put the whole army to flight. In the heat of the onset, Douglas killed Sir Thomas de Richmont with his dagger.Not long after this, Edmund de Cailon, a knight of Gascony, and Governor of Berwick, who had been heard to vaunt that he had sought the famous Black Knight, but could not find him, was returning to England, loaded with plunder, the fruit of an inroad on Teviotdale. Sir James thought it a pity that a Gascon’s vaunt should be heard unpunished in Scotland, and made long forced marches to satisfy the desire of the foreign knight, by giving him a sight of the dark countenance he had made a subject of reproach. He soon succeeded in gratifying both himself and the Gascon. Coming up in his terrible manner, he called to Cailon to stop, and, before he proceeded into England, receive the respects of the Black Knight he had come to find, but hitherto had not met. The Gascon’s vaunt was now changed; but shame supplied the place of courage, and he ordered his men to receive Douglas’s attack. Sir James assiduously sought his enemy. He at last succeeded; and a single combat ensued, of a most desperate character. But who ever escaped the arm of Douglas when fairly opposed to him in single conflict? Cailon was killed; he had met the Black Knight at last.“So much,” cried Sir James, “for the vaunt of a Gascon!”Similar in every respect to the fate of Cailon, was that of Sir Ralph Neville. He, too, on hearing the great fame of Douglas’s prowess, from some of Gallon’s fugitive soldiers, openly boasted that he would fight with the Scottish Knight, if he would come and show his banner before Berwick. Sir James heard the boast and rejoiced in it. He marched to that town, and caused his men to ravage the country in front of the battlements, and burn the villages. Neville left Berwick with a strong body of men; and, stationing himself on a high ground, waited till the rest of the Scots should disperse to plunder; but Douglas called in his detachment and attacked the knight. After a desperate conflict, in which many were slain, Douglas, as was his custom, succeeded in bringing the leader to a personal encounter, and the skill of the Scottish knight was again successful. Neville was slain, and his men utterly discomfited.Having retired one night to his tent to take some rest after so much pain and toil, Sir James Douglas was surprised by the reappearance of the old woman whom he had seen at Linthaughlee.“This is the feast o’ St. James,” said she, as she approached him. “I said I would see ye again this nicht, an’ I’m as guid’s my word. Hae ye returned the arrows I left wi’ ye to the English wha sent them to the hearts o’ my sons?”“No,” replied Sir James. “I told ye I did not fight with the bow. Wherefore do ye importune me thus?”“Give me back the arrows then,” said the woman.Sir James went to bring the quiver in which he had placed them. On taking them out, he was surprised to find that they were all broken through the middle.“How has this happened?” said he. “I put these arrows in this quiver entire, and now they are broken.”“The weird is fulfilled!” cried the old woman, laughing eldrichly, and clapping her hands. “That broken shaft cam’ frae a soldier o’ Richmont’s; that frae ane o’ Cailon’s, and that frae ane o’ Neville’s. They are a’ dead, an’ I am revenged!”The old woman then departed, scattering, as she went, the broken fragments of the arrows on the floor of the tent.
In the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. All the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth—so! Till at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a small ‘Stute Fish, and he swam a little behind the Whale’s right ear, so as to be out of harm’s way. Then the Whale stood up on his tail and said, ‘I’m hungry.’ And the small ‘Stute Fish said in a small ‘stute voice, ‘Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?’‘No,’ said the Whale. ‘What is it like?’‘Nice,’ said the small ‘Stute Fish. ‘Nice but nubbly.’‘Then fetch me some,’ said the Whale, and he made the sea froth up with his tail.‘One at a time is enough,’ said the ‘Stute Fish. ‘If you swim to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West (that is magic), you will find, sitting on a raft, in the middle of the sea, with nothing on but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must not forget the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, one ship-wrecked Mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity.’So the Whale swam and swam to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West, as fast as he could swim, and on a raft, in the middle of the sea, with nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must particularly remember the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack-knife, he found one single, solitary shipwrecked Mariner, trailing his toes in the water. (He had his mummy’s leave to paddle, or else he would never have done it, because he was a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity.)Then the Whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly touched his tail, and he swallowed the shipwrecked Mariner, and the raft he was sitting on, and his blue canvas breeches, and the suspenders (which you must not forget), and the jack-knife—He swallowed them all down into his warm, dark, inside cup-boards, and then he smacked his lips—so, and turned round three times on his tail.But as soon as the Mariner, who was a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, found himself truly inside the Whale’s warm, dark, inside cup-boards, he stumped and he jumped and he thumped and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lepped, and he danced hornpipes where he shouldn’t, and the Whale felt most unhappy indeed. (Have you forgotten the suspenders?)So he said to the ‘Stute Fish, ‘This man is very nubbly, and besides he is making me hiccough. What shall I do?’‘Tell him to come out,’ said the ‘Stute Fish.So the Whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked Mariner, ‘Come out and behave yourself. I’ve got the hiccoughs.’‘Nay, nay!’ said the Mariner. ‘Not so, but far otherwise. Take me to my natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and I’ll think about it.’ And he began to dance more than ever.‘You had better take him home,’ said the ‘Stute Fish to the Whale.‘I ought to have warned you that he is a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity.’So the Whale swam and swam and swam, with both flippers and his tail, as hard as he could for the hiccoughs; and at last he saw the Mariner’s natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and he rushed half-way up the beach, and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide, and said, ‘Change here for Winchester, Ashuelot, Nashua, Keene, and stations on the Fitchburg Road;’ and just as he said ‘Fitch’ the Mariner walked out of his mouth. But while the Whale had been swimming, the Mariner, who was indeed a person of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, had taken his jack-knife and cut up the raft into a little square grating all running criss-cross, and he had tied it firm with his suspenders (now, you know why you were not to forget the suspenders!), and he dragged that grating good and tight into the Whale’s throat, and there it stuck! Then he recited the following Sloka, which, as you have not heard it, I will now proceed to relate—By means of a gratingI have stopped your ating.For the Mariner he was also an Hi-ber-ni-an. And he stepped out on the shingle, and went home to his mother, who had given him leave to trail his toes in the water; and he married and lived happily ever afterward. So did the Whale. But from that day on, the grating in his throat, which he could neither cough up nor swallow down, prevented him eating anything except very, very small fish; and that is the reason why whales nowadays never eat men or boys or little girls.The small ‘Stute Fish went and hid himself in the mud under the Door-sills of the Equator. He was afraid that the Whale might be angry with him.The Sailor took the jack-knife home. He was wearing the blue canvas breeches when he walked out on the shingle. The suspenders were left behind, you see, to tie the grating with; and that is the end of that tale.WHEN the cabin port-holes are dark and greenBecause of the seas outside;When the ship goes wop (with a wiggle between)And the steward falls into the soup-tureen,And the trunks begin to slide;When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,And you aren’t waked or washed or dressed,Why, then you will know (if you haven’t guessed)You’re ‘Fifty North and Forty West!’
“Good-day, Father Hollenthe.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your daughter?” “Oh, yes, if Mother Malcho (Milch-cow), Brother High-and-Mighty, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.”“Where is Mother Malcho, then?” “She is in the cow-house, milking the cow.”“Good-day, Mother Malcho.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your daughter?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Brother High-and-Mighty, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.” “Where is Brother High-and-Mighty, then?” “He is in the room chopping some wood.” “Good-day, Brother High-and-Mighty.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your sister?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.” “Where is Sister Käsetraut, then?”“She is in the garden cutting cabbages.” “Good-day, sister Käsetraut.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your sister?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and-Mighty, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you may have her.” “Where is fair Katrinelje, then?” “She is in the room counting out her farthings.” “Good day, fair Katrinelje.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “Wilt thou be my bride?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister Käsetraut are willing, I am ready.”“Fair Katrinelje, how much dowry hast thou?” “Fourteen farthings in ready money, three and a half groschen owing to me, half a pound of dried apples, a handful of fried bread, and a handful of spices. And many other things are mine. Have I not a dowry fine?“Pif-paf-poltrie, what is thy trade? Art thou a tailor?” “Something better.” “A shoemaker?” “Something better.” “A husbandman?” “Something better.” “A joiner?” “Something better.” “A smith?” “Something better.” “A miller?” “Something better.” “Perhaps a broom-maker?” “Yes, that’s what I am, is it not a fine trade?”
Two or three miles from the coast of France, anyone sailing in a ship on a calm day can see, deep, deep down, the trunks of great trees standing up in the water. Many hundreds of years ago these trees formed part of a large forest, full of all sorts of wild animals, and beyond the forest was a fine city, guarded by a castle in which dwelt the Dukes of Clarides. But little by little the sea drew nearer to the town; the foundations of the houses became undermined and fell in, and at length a shining sea flowed over the land. However, all this happened a long time after the story I am going to tell you.The Dukes of Clarides had always lived in the midst of their people, and protected them both in war and peace.At the period when this tale begins the Duke Robert was dead, leaving a young and beautiful duchess who ruled in his stead. Of course everyone expected her to marry again, but she refused all suitors who sought her hand, saying that having only one soul she could have only one husband, and that her baby daughter was quite enough for her.One day she was sitting in the tower, which looked out over a rocky heath, covered in summer with purple and yellow flowers, when she beheld a troop of horsemen riding towards the castle. In the midst, seated on a white horse with black and silver trappings, was a lady whom the duchess at once knew to be her friend the Countess of Blanchelande, a young widow like herself, mother of a little boy two years older than Abeille des Clarides. The duchess hailed her arrival with delight, but her joy was soon turned into weeping when the countess sank down beside her on a pile of cushions, and told the reason of her visit.‘As you know,’ she said, taking her friend’s hand and pressing it between her own, ‘whenever a Countess of Blanchelande is about to die she finds a white rose lying on her pillow. Last night I went to bed feeling unusually happy, but this morning when I woke the rose was resting against my cheek. I have no one to help me in the world but you, and I have come to ask if you will take Youri my son, and let him be a brother to Abeille ?’Tears choked the voice of the duchess, but she flung herself on the countess’s neck, and pressed her close. Silently the two women took leave of each other, and silently the doomed lady mounted her horse and rode home again. Then, giving her sleeping boy into the care of Francoeur, her steward, she laid herself quietly on her bed, where, the next morning, they found her dead and peaceful.So Youri and Abeille grew up side by side, and the duchess faithfully kept her promise, and was a mother to them both. As they got bigger she often took them with her on her journeys through her duchy, and taught them to know her people, and to pity and to aid them.It was on one of these journeys that, after passing through meadows covered with flowers, Youri caught sight of a great glittering expanse lying beneath some distant mountains.‘What is that, godmother?’ he asked, waving his hand. ‘The shield of a giant, I suppose.’‘No; a silver plate as big as the moon!’ said Abeille, twisting herself round on her pony.‘It is neither a silver plate nor a giant’s shield,’ replied the duchess; ‘but a beautiful lake. Still, in spite of its beauty, it is dangerous to go near it, for in its depths dwell some Undines, or water spirits, who lure all passers-by to their deaths.’Nothing more was said about the lake, but the children did not forget it, and one morning, after they had returned to the castle, Abeille came up to Youri.‘The tower door is open,’ whispered she; ‘let us go up. Perhaps we shall find some fairies.’But they did not find any fairies; only, when they reached the roof, the lake looked bluer and more enchanting than ever. Abeille gazed at it for a moment, and then she said:‘Do you see ? I mean to go there !’‘But you mustn’t,’ cried Youri. ‘You heard what your mother said. And, besides, it is so far; how could we get there ?’‘You ought to know that,’ answered Abeille scornfully. ‘What is the good of being a man, and learning all sorts of things, if you have to ask me. However, there are plenty of other men in the world, and I shall get one of them to tell me.’Youri coloured; Abeille had never spoken like this before, and, instead of being two years younger than himself, she suddenly seemed many years older. She stood with her mocking eyes fixed on him, till he grew angry at being outdone by a girl, and taking her hand he said boldly:‘Very well, we will both go to the lake.’The next afternoon, when the duchess was working at her tapestry surrounded by her maidens, the children went out, as usual, to play in the garden. The moment they found themselves alone, Youri turned to Abeille, and holding out his hand, said:‘Come where ?’ asked Abeille, opening her eyes very wide.‘To the lake, of course,’ answered the boy.Abeille was silent. It was one thing to pretend you meant to be disobedient some day, a long time off, and quite another to start for such a distant place without anyone knowing that you had left the garden. ‘And in satin shoes, too ! How stupid boys were, to be sure !’‘Stupid or not, I am going to the lake, and you are going with me!’ said Youri, who had not forgotten or forgiven the look she had cast on him the day before. ‘Unless,’ added he, ‘you are afraid, and in that case I shall go alone.’This was too much for Abeille. Bursting into tears, she flung herself on Youri’s neck, and declared that wherever he went she would go too. So, peace having been made between them, they set out.It was a hot day, and the townspeople were in doors waiting till the sun was low in the sky before they set out either to work or play, so the children passed through the streets unperceived, and crossed the river by the bridge into the flowery meadows along the road by which they had ridden with the duchess. By-and-by Abeille began to feel thirsty, but the sun had drunk up all the water, and not a drop was left for her. They walked on a little further, and by good luck found a cherry-tree covered with ripe fruit, and after a rest and a refreshing meal, they were sure that they were strong enough to reach the lake in a few minutes. But soon Abeille began to limp and to say that her foot hurt her, and Youri had to untie the ribbons that fastened her shoe and see what was the matter. A stone had got in, so this was easily set right, and for a while they skipped along the path singing and chattering, till Abeille stopped again. This time her shoe had come off, and turning to pick it up she caught sight of the towers of the castle, looking such a long way off that her heart sank, and she burst into tears.‘It is getting dark, and the wolves will eat us,’ sobbed she. But Youri put his arms round her and comforted her.‘Why, we are close to the lake now. There is nothing to be afraid of ! We shall be home again to supper,’ cried he. And Abeille dried her eyes, and trotted on beside him.Yes, the lake was there, blue and silvery with purple and gold irises growing on its banks, and white waterlilies floated on its bosom. Not a trace was there of a man, or of one of the great beasts so much feared by Abeille, but only the marks of tiny forked feet on the sand. The little girl at once pulled off her torn shoes and stockings and let the water flow over her, while Youri looked about for some nuts or strawberries. But none were to be found.‘I noticed, a little way back, a clump of blackberry bushes,’ said he. ‘Wait here for me, and I will go and gather some fruit, and after that we will start home again.’ And Abeille, leaning her head drowsily against a cushion of soft moss, murmured something in reply, and soon fell asleep. In her dream a crow, bearing the smallest man that ever was seen, appeared hovering for a moment above her, and then vanished. At the same instant Youri returned and placed by her side a large leaf-full of strawberries.‘It is a pity to wake her just yet,’ thought he, and wandered off beyond a clump of silvery willows to a spot from which he could get a view of the whole lake. In the moonlight, the light mist that hung over the surface made it look like fairyland. Then gradually the silver veil seemed to break up, and the shapes of fair women with outstretched hands and long green locks floated towards him. Seized with a sudden fright, the boy turned to fly. But it was too late.Unconscious of the terrible doom that had befallen her foster-brother, Abeille slept on, and did not awake even when a crowd of little men with white beards down to their knees came and stood in a circle round her.‘What shall we do with her?’ asked Pic, who seemed older than any of them, though they were all very old.‘Build a cage and put her into it,’ answered Rug.‘No ! No ! What should such a beautiful princess do in a cage ?’ cried Dig. And Tad, who was the kindest of them all, proposed to carry her home to her parents. But the other gnomes were too pleased with their new toy to listen to this for a moment.‘Look, she is waking,’ whispered Pau. And as he spoke Abeille slowly opened her eyes. At first she imagined she was still dreaming; but as the little men did not move, it suddenly dawned upon her that they were real, and starting to her feet, she called loudly:‘Youri ! Youri ! Where are you ?’At the sound of her voice the gnomes only pressed more closely round her, and, trembling with fear, she hid her face in her hands. The gnomes were at first much puzzled to know what to do; then Tad, climbing on a branch of the willow tree that hung over her, stooped down, and gently stroked her fingers. The child understood that he meant to be kind, and letting her hands fall, gazed at her captors. After an instant’s pause she said:‘Little men, it is a great pity that you are so ugly. But, all the same, I will love you if you will only give me something to eat, as I am dying of hunger.’A rustle was heard among the group as she spoke. Some were very angry at being called ugly, and said she deserved no better fate than to be left where she was. Others laughed, and declared that it did not matter what a mere mortal thought about them; while Tad bade Bog, their messenger, fetch her some milk and honey and the finest white bread that was made in their ovens under the earth. In less time than Abeille would have taken to tie her shoe he was back again, mounted on his crow. And by the time she had eaten the bread and honey and drunk the milk, Abeille was not frightened any more, and felt quite ready to talk.‘Little men,’ she said, looking up with a smile, ‘your supper was very good, and I thank you for it. My name is Abeille, and my brother is called Youri. Help me to find him, and tell me which is the path that leads to the castle, for mother must think something dreadful has happened to us !’‘But your feet are so sore that you cannot walk,’ answered Dig. ‘And we may not cross the bounds into your country. The best we can do is to make a litter of twigs and cover it with moss, and we will bear you into the mountains, and present you to our king.’Now, many a little girl would have been terrified at the thought of being carried off alone, she did not know where. But Abeille, when she had recovered from her first fright, was pleased at the notion of her strange adventure.‘How much she would have to tell her mother and Youri on her return home ! Probably they would never go inside a mountain, if they lived to be a hundred.’ So she curled herself comfortably on her nest of moss, and, waited to see what would happen.Up, and up, and up they went; and by-and-by Abeille fell asleep again, and did not wake till the sun was shining. Up, and up, and up, for the little men could only walk very slowly, though they could spring over rocks quicker than any mortal. Suddenly the light that streamed through the branches of the litter began to change. It seemed hardly less bright, but it was certainly different; then the litter was put down, and the gnomes crowded round and helped Abeille to step out of it.Before her stood a little man not half her size, but splendidly dressed and full of dignity. On his head was a crown of such huge diamonds that you wondered how his small body could support it. A royal mantle fell from his shoulders, and in his hand he held a lance.‘King Loc,’ said one of the forest gnomes, ‘we found this beautiful child asleep by the lake, and have brought her to you. She says that her name is Abeille, and her mother is the Duchesse des Clarides.’‘You have done well,’ answered the king; ‘she shall be one of us.’ And standing on tiptoe, so that he could kiss her hand, he told her that they would all take care of her and make her happy, and that anything she wished for she should have at once.‘I want a pair of shoes,’ replied Abeille.‘Shoes !’ commanded the king, striking the ground with his lance; and immediately a lovely pair of silver shoes embroidered with pearls were slipped on her feet by one of the gnomes.‘They are beautiful shoes,’ said Abeille rather doubtfully; ‘but do you think they will carry me all the way back to my mother ?’‘No, they are not meant for rough roads,’ replied the king, ‘but for walking about the smooth paths of the mountain, for we have many wonders to show you.’‘Little King Loc,’ answered Abeille, ‘take away these beautiful slippers and give me a pair of wooden shoes instead, and let me go back to my mother.’ But King Loc only shook his head.‘Little King Loc,’ said Abeille again — and this time her voice trembled –‘ let me go back to my mother and Youri, and I will love you with all my heart, nearly as well as I love them.’‘Who is Youri ?’ asked King Loc.‘Why — Youri — who has lived with us since I was a baby,’ replied Abeille; surprised that he did not know what everyone else was aware of, and never guessing that by mentioning the boy she was sealing her own fate. For King Loc had already thought what a good wife she would make in a few years’ time, and he did not want Youri to come between them. So he was silent, and Abeille, seeing he was not pleased, burst into tears.‘Little King Loc,’ she cried, taking hold of a corner of his mantle, ‘think how unhappy my mother will be. She will fancy that wild beasts have eaten me, or that I have got drowned in the lake.’‘Be comforted,’ replied King Loc; ‘I will send her a dream, so that she shall know that you are safe.’At this Abeille’s sad face brightened. ‘Little King Loc,’ she said, smiling, ‘how clever you are ! But you must send her a dream every night, so that she shall see me — and me a dream, so that I may see her.’And this King Loc promised to do.When Abeille grew accustomed to do without her mother and Youri, she made herself happy enough in her new home. Everyone was kind to her, and petted her, and then there were such quantities of new things for her to see. The gnomes were always busy, and knew how to fashion beautiful toys as well or better than the people who lived on the earth; and now and then, wandering with Tad or Dig in the underground passages, Abeille would catch a glimpse of blue sky through a rent in the rocks, and this she loved best of all. In this manner six years passed away.‘His Highness King Loc wishes to see you in his presence chamber,’ said Tad, one morning, to Abeille, who was singing to herself on a golden lute; and Abeille, wondering why the king had grown so formal all of a sudden, got up obediently. Directly she appeared, King Loc opened a door in the wall which led into his treasure chamber. Abeille had never been there before, and was amazed at the splendid things heaped up before her. Gold, jewels, brocades, carpets, lay round the walls, and she walked about examining one glittering object after another, while King Loc mounted a throne of gold and ivory at one end of the hall, and watched her. ‘Choose whatever you wish,’ he said at last. A necklace of most lovely pearls was hanging from the wall, and after hesitating for a moment between that and a circlet of diamonds and sapphires, Abeille stretched up her hand towards it. But before she touched it her eyes lighted on a tiny piece of sky visible through a crack of the rock, and her hand dropped by her side. ‘Little King Loc, let me go up to the earth once again,’ she said.Then King Loc made a sign to the treasurer, who opened a coffer full of nothing but precious stones, larger and more dazzling than were worn by any earthly monarch. ‘Choose what you will, Abeille,’ whispered King Loc.But Abeille only shook her head.‘A drop of dew in the garden at Clarides is brighter to me than the best of those diamonds,’ she answered, ‘and the bluest of the stones are not as blue as the eyes of Youri ? And as she spoke a sharp pain ran through the heart of King Loc. For an instant he said nothing, then he lifted his head and looked at her. ‘Only those who despise riches should possess them. Take this crown, from henceforth you are the Princess of the Gnomes.’During thirty days no work was done in those underground regions, for a feast was held in honour of the new princess. At the end of that period the king appeared before Abeille, clad in his most splendid garments, and solemnly asked her to be his wife.‘Little King Loc,’ answered the girl, ‘I love you as you are, for your goodness and kindness to me; but never, never can I love you as anything else.’The king sighed. It was only what he had expected; still, his disappointment was great, though he tried bravely to hide it, and even to smile as he said: ‘Then, Abeille, will you promise me one thing ? If there should come a day when you find that there is somebody whom you could love, will you tell me ?’And in her turn Abeille promised.After this, in spite of the fact that everyone was just as kind to her as before, Abeille was no longer the merry child who passed all her days playing with the little gnomes. People who dwell under the earth grow up much faster than those who live on its surface, and, at thirteen, the girl was already a woman. Besides, King Loc’s words had set her thinking; she spent many hours by herself, and her face was no longer round and rosy, but thin and pale. It was in vain that the gnomes did their best to entice her into her old games, they had lost their interest, and even her lute lay unnoticed on the ground.But one morning a change seemed to come over her. Leaving the room hung with beautiful silks, where she usually sat alone, she entered the king’s presence, and taking his hand she led him through long corridors till they came to a place where a strip of blue sky was to be seen.‘Little King Loc,’ she said, turning her eyes upon him, ‘let me behold my mother again, or I shall surely die.’ Her voice shook, and her whole body trembled. Even an enemy might have pitied her; but the king, who loved her, answered nothing. All day long Abeille stayed there, watching the light fade, and the sky grow pale. By-and-by the stars came out, but the girl never moved from her place. Suddenly a hand touched her. She looked round with a start, and there was King Loc, covered from head to foot in a dark mantle, holding another over his arm. ‘Put on this and follow me,’ was all he said. But Abeille somehow knew that she was going to see her mother.On, and on, and on they went, through passages where Abeille had never been before, and at length she was out in the world again. Oh ! how beautiful it all was ! How fresh was the air, and how sweet was the smell of the flowers ! She felt as if she should die with joy; but at that moment King Loc lifted her off the ground, and, tiny though he was, carried her quite easily across the garden and through an open door into the silent castle.‘Listen, Abeille,’ he whispered softly. ‘You have guessed where we are going, and you know that every night I send your mother a vision of you, and she talks to it in her dream, and smiles at it. To-night it will be no vision she sees, but you yourself; only remember, that if you touch her or speak to her my power is lost, and never more will she behold either you or your image.’By this time they had reached the room which Abeille knew so well, and her heart beat violently as the gnome carried her over the threshold. By the light of a lamp hanging over the bed Abeille could see her mother, beautiful still, but with a face that had grown pale and sad. As she gazed the sadness vanished, and a bright smile came in its stead. Her mother’s arms were stretched out towards her, and the girl, her eyes filled with tears of joy, was stooping to meet them, when King Loc hastily snatched her up, and bore her back to the realm of the gnomes.If the king imagined that by granting Abeille’s request he would make her happy, he soon found out his mistake, for all day long the girl sat weeping, paying no heed to the efforts of her friends to comfort her.‘Tell me what is making you so unhappy ?’ said King Loc, at last. And Abeille answered:‘Little King Loc, and all my friends here, you are so good and kind that I know that you are miserable when I am in trouble. I would be happy if I could, but it is stronger than I. I am weeping because I shall never see again Youri de Blanchelande, whom I love with all my heart. It is a worse grief than parting with my mother, for at least I know where she is and what she is doing; while, as for Youri, I cannot tell if he is dead or alive.’The gnomes were all silent. Kind as they were, they were not mortals, and had never felt either great joys or deep sorrows. Only King Loc dimly guessed at something of both, and he went away to consult an old, old gnome, who lived in the lowest depth of the mountain, and had spectacles of every sort, that enabled him to see all that was happening, not only on the earth, but under the sea.Nur, for such was his name, tried many of these spectacles before he could discover anything about Youri de Blanchelande.‘There he is !’ he cried at last. ‘He is sitting in the palace of the Undines, under the great lake; but be does not like his prison, and longs to be back in the world, doing great deeds.’It was true. In the seven years that had passed since he had left the castle of Clarides to go with Abeille to the blue lake, Youri in his turn had become a man.The older he grew the more weary he got of the petting and spoiling he received at the hands of the green-haired maidens, till, one day, he flung himself at the feet of the Undine queen, and implored permission to return to his old home.The queen stooped down and stroked his hair.‘We cannot spare you,’ she murmured gently. ‘Stay here, and you shall be king, and marry me.’‘But it is Abeille I want to marry,’ said the youth boldly. But he might as well have talked to the winds, for at last the queen grew angry, and ordered him to be put in a crystal cage which was built for him round a pointed rock.It was here that King Loc, aided by the spectacles of Nur, found him after many weeks’ journey. As we know, the gnomes walk slowly, and the way was long and difficult. Luckily; before he started, he had taken with him his magic ring, and the moment it touched the wall the crystal cage split from top to bottom.‘Follow that path, and you will find yourself in the world again,’ he said to Youri; and without waiting to listen to the young man’s thanks, set out on the road he had come.‘Bog,’ he cried to the little man on the crow, who had ridden to meet him, ‘hasten to the palace and inform the Princess Abeille that Youri de Blanchelande, for seven years a captive in the kingdom of the Undines, has now returned to the castle of Clarides.’The first person whom Youri met as he came out of the mountain was the tailor who had made all his clothes from the time that he came to live at the castle. Of this old friend, who was nearly beside himself with joy at the sight of the little master, lost for so many years, the count begged for news of his foster-mother and Abeille.‘Alas ! my lord, where can you have been that you do not know that the Princess Abeille was carried off by the gnomes on the very day that you disappeared yourself ? At least, so we guess. Ah ! that day has left many a mark on our duchess ! Yet she is not without a gleam of hope that her daughter is living yet, for every night the poor mother is visited by a dream which tells her all that the princess is doing.’The good man went on to tell of all the changes that seven years had brought about in the village, but Youri heard nothing that he said, for his mind was busy with thoughts of Abeille.At length he roused himself, and ashamed of his delay, he hastened to the chamber of the duchess, who held him in her arms as if she would never let him go. By-and-by, however, when she became calmer, he began to question her about Abeille, and how best to deliver her from the power of the gnomes. The duchess then told him that she had sent out men in all directions to look for the children directly they were found to be missing, and that one of them had noticed a troop of little men far away on the mountains, evidently carrying a litter. He was hastening after them, when, at his feet, he beheld a tiny satin slipper, which he stooped to pick up. But as he did so a dozen of the gnomes had swarmed upon him like flies, and beat him about the head till he dropped the slipper, which they took away with them, leaving the poor man dizzy with pain. When he recovered his senses the group on the mountain had disappeared.That night, when everyone was asleep, Youri and his old servant Francoeur stole softly down into the armoury, and dressed themselves in light suits of chain armour, with helmets and short swords, all complete. Then they mounted two horses that Francoeur had tied up in the forest, and set forth for the kingdom of the gnomes. At the end of an hour’s hard riding, they came to the cavern which Francoeur had heard from childhood led into the centre of the earth. Here they dismounted, and entered cautiously, expecting to find darkness as thick as what they had left outside. But they had only gone a few steps when they were nearly blinded by a sudden blaze of light, which seemed to proceed from a sort of portcullis door which barred the way in front of them.‘Who are you ?’ asked a voice. And the count answered:‘Youri de Blanchelande, who has come to rescue Abeille des Clarides.’ And at these words the gate slowly swung open, and closed behind the two strangers.Youri listened to the clang with a spasm of fear in his heart; then the desperate position he was in gave him courage. There was no retreat for him now, and in front was drawn up a large force of gnomes, whose arrows were falling like hail about him. He raised his shield to ward them off, and as he did so his eyes fell on a little man standing on a rock above the rest, with a crown on his head and a royal mantle on his shoulders. In an instant Youri had flung away his shield and sprung forward, regardless of the arrows that still fell about him.‘Oh, is it you, is it really you, my deliverer ? And is it your subjects who hold as a captive Abeille whom I love ?’‘I am King Loc,’ was the answer. And the figure with the long beard bent his eyes kindly on the eager youth. ‘If Abeille has lived with us all these years, for many of them she was quite happy. But the gnomes, of whom you think so little, are a just people, and they will not keep her against her will. Beg the princess to be good enough to come hither,’ he added, turning to Rug.Amidst a dead silence Abeille entered the vast space and looked around her. At first she saw nothing but a vast host of gnomes perched on the walls and crowding on the floor of the big hall. Then her eyes met those of Youri, and with a cry that came from her heart she darted towards him, and threw herself on his breast.‘Abeille,’ said the king, when he had watched her for a moment, with a look of pain on his face, ‘is this the man that you wish to marry ?’‘Yes, Little King Loc, this is he and nobody else ! And see how I can laugh now, and how happy I am !’ And with that she began to cry.‘Hush, Abeille ! there must be no tears to-day,’ said Youri, gently stroking her hair. ‘Come, dry your eyes, and thank King Loc, who rescued me from the cage in the realm of the Undines.’As Youri spoke Abeille lifted her head, and a great light came into her face. At last she understood.‘You did that for me ?’ she whispered. ‘Ah, Little King Loc — !’So, loaded with presents, and followed by regrets, Abeille went home. In a few days the marriage took place; but however happy she was, and however busy she might be, never a month passed by without a visit from Abeille to her friends in the kingdom of the gnomes.
Once, upon a time there was a man and his wife who had two children, a boy and a girl. The wife died, and the man married again. His new wife had an only daughter, who was both ugly and untidy, whereas her stepdaughter was a beautiful girl, and was known as Maiden Bright-eye. Her stepmother was very cruel to her on this account; she had always to do the hardest work, and got very little to eat, and no attention paid to her; but to her own daughter she was all that was good. She was spared from all the hardest of the housework, and had always the prettiest clothes to wear.Maiden Bright-eye had also to watch the sheep, but of course it would never do to let her go idle and enjoy herself too much at this work, so she had to pull heather while she was out on the moors with them. Her stepmother gave her pancakes to take with her for her dinner, but she had mixed the flour with ashes, and made them just as bad as she could.The little girl came out on the moor and began to pull heather on the side of a little mound, but next minute a little fellow with a red cap on his head popped up out of the mound and said:‘Who’s that pulling the roof off my house?’‘Oh, it’s me, a poor little girl,’ said she; ‘my mother sent me out here, and told me to pull heather. If you will be good to me I will give you a bit of my dinner.’The little fellow was quite willing, and she gave him the biggest share of her pancakes. They were not particularly good, but when one is hungry anything tastes well. After he had got them all eaten he said to her:‘Now, I shall give you three wishes, for you are a very nice little girl; but I will choose the wishes for you. You are beautiful, and much more beautiful shall you be; yes, so lovely that there will not be your like in the world. The next wish shall be that every time you open your mouth a gold coin shall fall out of it, and your voice shall be like the most beautiful music. The third wish shall be that you may be married to the young king, and become the queen of the country. At the same time I shall give you a cap, which you must carefully keep, for it can save you, if you ever are in danger of your life, if you just put it on your head.Maiden Bright-eye thanked the little bergman ever so often, and drove home her sheep in the evening. By that time she had grown so beautiful that her people could scarcely recognise her. Her stepmother asked her how it had come about that she had grown so beautiful. She told the whole story—for she always told the truth—that a little man had come to her out on the moor and had given her all this beauty. She did not tell, however, that she had given him a share of her dinner.The stepmother thought to herself, ‘If one can become so beautiful by going out there, my own daughter shall also be sent, for she can well stand being made a little prettier.’Next morning she baked for her the finest cakes, and dressed her prettily to go out with the sheep. But she was afraid to go away there without having a stick to defend herself with if anything should come near her.She was not very much inclined for pulling the heather, as she never was in the habit of doing any work, but she was only a minute or so at it when up came the same little fellow with the red cap, and said:‘Who’s that pulling the roof off my house?’‘What’s that to you?’ said she.‘Well, if you will give me a bit of your dinner I won’t do you any mischief,’ said he.‘I will give you something else in place of my dinner,’ said she. ‘I can easily eat it myself; but if you will have something you can have a whack of my stick,’ and with that she raised it in the air and struck the bergman over the head with it.‘What a wicked little girl you are!’ said he; ‘but you shall be none the better of this. I shall give you three wishes, and choose them for you. First, I shall say, “Ugly are you, but you shall become so ugly that there will not be an uglier one on earth.” Next I shall wish that every time you open your mouth a big toad may fall out of it, and your voice shall be like the roaring of a bull. In the third place I shall wish for you a violent death.’The girl went home in the evening, and when her mother saw her she was as vexed as she could be, and with good reason, too; but it was still worse when she saw the toads fall out of her mouth and heard her voice.Now we must hear something about the stepson. He had gone out into the world to look about him, and took service in the king’s palace. About this time he got permission to go home and see his sister, and when he saw how lovely and beautiful she was, he was so pleased and delighted that when he came back to the king’s palace everyone there wanted to know what he was always so happy about. He told them that it was because he had such a lovely sister at home.At last it came to the ears of the king what the brother said about his sister, and, besides that, the report of her beauty spread far and wide, so that the youth was summoned before the king, who asked him if everything was true that was told about the girl. He said it was quite true, for he had seen her beauty with his own eyes, and had heard with his own ears how sweetly she could sing and what a lovely voice she had.The king then took a great desire for her, and ordered her brother to go home and bring her back with him, for he trusted no one better to accomplish that errand. He got a ship, and everything else that he required, and sailed home for his sister. As soon as the stepmother heard what his errand was she at once said to herself, ‘This will never come about if I can do anything to hinder it. She must not be allowed to come to such honour.’She then got a dress made for her own daughter, like the finest robe for a queen, and she had a mask prepared and put upon her face, so that she looked quite pretty, and gave her strict orders not to take it off until the king had promised to wed her.The brother now set sail with his two sisters, for the stepmother pretended that the ugly one wanted to see the other a bit on her way. But when they got out to sea, and Maiden Bright-eye came up on deck, the sister did as her mother had instructed her—she gave her a push and made her fall into the water. When the brother learned what had happened he was greatly distressed, and did not know what to do. He could not bring himself to tell the truth about what had happened, nor did he expect that the king would believe it. In the long run he decided to hold on his way, and let things go as they liked. What he had expected happened—the king received his sister and wedded her at once, but repented it after the first night, as he could scarcely put down his foot in the morning for all the toads that were about the room, and when he saw her real face he was so enraged against the brother that he had him thrown into a pit full of serpents. He was so angry, not merely because he had been deceived, but because he could not get rid of the ugly wretch that was now tied to him for life.Now we shall hear a little about Maiden Bright-eye When she fell into the water she was fortunate enough to get the bergman’s cap put on her head, for now she was in danger of her life, and she was at once transformed into a duck. The duck swam away after the ship, and came to the king’s palace on the next evening. There it waddled up the drain, and so into the kitchen, where her little dog lay on the hearth-stone; it could not bear to stay in the fine chambers along with the ugly sister, and had taken refuge down here. The duck hopped up till it could talk to the dog.‘Good evening,’ it said.‘Thanks, Maiden Bright-eye,’ said the dog.‘Where is my brother?’‘He is in the serpent-pit.’‘Where is my wicked sister?’‘She is with the noble king.’‘Alas! alas! I am here this evening, and shall be for two evenings yet, and then I shall never come again.’When it had said this the duck waddled off again. Several of the servant girls heard the conversation, and were greatly surprised at it, and thought that it would be worth while to catch the bird next evening and see into the matter a little more closely. They had heard it say that it would come again.Next evening it appeared as it had said, and a great many were present to see it. It came waddling in by the drain, and went up to the dog, which was lying on the hearth-stone.‘Good evening,’ it said.‘Thanks, Maiden Bright-eye,’ said the dog.‘Where is my brother?’‘He is in the serpent-pit.’‘Where is my wicked sister?’‘She is with the noble king.’‘Alas! alas! I am here this evening, and shall be for one evening yet, and then I shall never come again.’After this it slipped out, and no one could get hold of it. But the king’s cook thought to himself, ‘I shall see if I can’t get hold of you to-morrow evening.’On the third evening the duck again came waddling in by the drain, and up to the dog on the hearth-stone.‘Good evening,’ it said.‘Thanks, Maiden Bright-eye,’ said the dog.‘Where is my brother?’‘He is in the serpent-pit.’‘Where is my wicked sister?’‘She is with the noble king.’‘Alas! alas! now I shall never come again.’With this it slipped out again, but in the meantime the cook had posted himself at the outer end of the drain with a net, which he threw over it as it came out. In this way he caught it, and came in to the others with the most beautiful duck they had ever seen—with so many golden feathers on it that everyone marvelled. No one, however, knew what was to be done with it; but after what they had heard they knew that there was something uncommon about it, so they took good care of it.At this time the brother in the serpent-pit dreamed that his right sister had come swimming to the king’s palace in the shape of a duck, and that she could not regain her own form until her beak was cut off. He got this dream told to some one, so that the king at last came to hear of it, and had him taken up out of the pit and brought before him. The king then asked him if he could produce to him his sister as beautiful as he had formerly described her. The brother said he could if they would bring him the duck and a knife.Both of them were brought to him, and he said, ‘I wonder how you would look if I were to cut the point off your beak.’With this he cut a piece off the beak, and there came a voice which said, ‘Oh, oh, you cut my little finger!’Next moment Maiden Bright-eye stood there, as lovely and beautiful as he had seen her when he was home. This was his sister now, he said; and the whole story now came out of how the other had behaved to her. The wicked sister was put into a barrel with spikes round it which was dragged off by six wild horses, and so she came to her end.:But the king was delighted with Maiden Bright-eye, and immediately made her his queen, while her brother became his prime minister.
Once upon a time the things in this story happened, and if they had not happened then the story would never have been told. But that was the time when wolves and lambs lay peacefully together in one stall, and shepherds dined on grassy banks with kings and queens.Once upon a time, then, my dear good children, there lived a man. Now this man was really a hundred years old, if not fully twenty years more. And his wife was very old too–how old I do not know; but some said she was as old as the goddess Venus herself. They had been very happy all these years, but they would have been happier still if they had had any children; but old though they were they had never made up their minds to do without them, and often they would sit over the fire and talk of how they would have brought up their children if only some had come to their house.One day the old man seemed sadder and more thoughtful than was common with him, and at last he said to his wife: ‘Listen to me, old woman!’‘What do you want?’ asked she.‘Get me some money out of the chest, for I am going a long journey–all through the world–to see if I cannot find a child, for my heart aches to think that after I am dead my house will fall into the hands of a stranger. And this let me tell you: that if I never find a child I shall not come home again.’Then the old man took a bag and filled it with food and money, and throwing it over his shoulders, bade his wife farewell.For long he wandered, and wandered, and wandered, but no child did he see; and one morning his wanderings led him to a forest which was so thick with trees that no light could pass through the branches. The old man stopped when he saw this dreadful place, and at first was afraid to go in; but he remembered that, after all, as the proverb says: ‘It is the unexpected that happens,’ and perhaps in the midst of this black spot he might find the child he was seeking. So summoning up all his courage he plunged boldly in.How long he might have been walking there he never could have told you, when at last he reached the mouth of a cave where the darkness seemed a hundred times darker than the wood itself. Again he paused, but he felt as if something was driving him to enter, and with a beating heart he stepped in.For some minutes the silence and darkness so appalled him that he stood where he was, not daring to advance one step. Then he made a great effort and went on a few paces, and suddenly, far before him, he saw the glimmer of a light. This put new heart into him, and he directed his steps straight towards the faint rays, till he could see, sitting by it, an old hermit, with a long white beard.The hermit either did not hear the approach of his visitor, or pretended not to do so, for he took no notice, and continued to read his book. After waiting patiently for a little while, the old man fell on his knees, and said: ‘Good morning, holy father!’ But he might as well have spoken to the rock. ‘Good morning, holy father,’ he said again, a little louder than before, and this time the hermit made a sign to him to come nearer. ‘My son,’ whispered he, in a voice that echoed through the cavern, ‘what brings you to this dark and dismal place? Hundreds of years have passed since my eyes have rested on the face of a man, and I did not think to look on one again.’.‘My misery has brought me here,’ replied the old man; ‘I have no child, and all our lives my wife and I have longed for one. So I left my home, and went out into the world, hoping that somewhere I might find what I was seeking.’Then the hermit picked up an apple from the ground, and gave it to him, saying: ‘Eat half of this apple, and give the rest to your wife, and cease wandering through the world.’The old man stooped and kissed the feet of the hermit for sheer joy, and left the cave. He made his way through the forest as fast as the darkness would let him, and at length arrived in flowery fields, which dazzled him with their brightness. Suddenly he was seized with a desperate thirst, and a burning in his throat. He looked for a stream but none was to be seen, and his tongue grew more parched every moment. At length his eyes fell on the apple, which all this while he had been holding in his hand, and in his thirst he forgot what the hermit had told him, and instead of eating merely his own half, he ate up the old woman’s also; after that he went to sleep.When he woke up he saw something strange lying on a bank a little way off, amidst long trails of pink roses. The old man got up, rubbed his eyes, and went to see what it was, when, to his surprise and joy, it proved to be a little girl about two years old, with a skin as pink and white as the roses above her. He took her gently in his arms, but she did not seem at all frightened, and only jumped and crowed with delight; and the old man wrapped his cloak round her, and set off for home as fast as his legs would carry him.When they were close to the cottage where they lived he laid the child in a pail that was standing near the door, and ran into the house, crying: ‘Come quickly, wife, quickly, for I have brought you a daughter, with hair of gold and eyes like stars!’At this wonderful news the old woman flew downstairs, almost tumbling down ill her eagerness to see the treasure; but when her husband led her to the pail it was perfectly empty! The old man was nearly beside himself with horror, while his wife sat down and sobbed with grief and disappointment. There was not a spot round about which they did not search, thinking that somehow the child might have got out of the pail and hidden itself for fun; but the little girl was not there, and there was no sign of her.‘Where can she be?’ moaned the old man, in despair. ‘Oh, why did I ever leave her, even for a moment? Have the fairies taken her, or has some wild beast carried her off?’ And they began their search all over again; but neither fairies nor wild beasts did they meet with, and with sore hearts they gave it up at last and turned sadly into the hut.And what had become of the baby? Well, finding herself left alone in a strange place she began to cry with fright, and an eagle hovering near, heard her, and went to see what the sound came from. When he beheld the fat pink and white creature he thought of his hungry little ones at home, and swooping down he caught her up in his claws and was soon flying with her over the tops of the trees. In a few minutes he reached the one in which he had built his nest, and laying little Wildrose (for so the old man had called her) among his downy young eaglets, he flew away. The eaglets naturally were rather surprised at this strange animal, so suddenly popped down in their midst, but instead of beginning to eat her, as their father expected, they nestled up close to her and spread out their tiny wings to shield her from the sun.Now, in the depths of the forest where the eagle had built his nest, there ran a stream whose waters were poisonous, and on the banks of this stream dwelt a horrible lindworm with seven heads. The lindworm had often watched the eagle flying about the top of the tree, carrying food to his young ones and, accordingly, he watched carefully for the moment when the eaglets began to try their wings and to fly away from the nest. Of course, if the eagle himself was there to protect them even the lindworm, big and strong as he was, knew that he could do nothing; but when he was absent, any little eaglets who ventured too near the ground would be sure to disappear down the monster’s throat. Their brothers, who had been left behind as too young and weak to see the world, knew nothing of all this, but supposed their turn would soon come to see the world also. And in a few days their eyes, too, opened and their wings flapped impatiently, and they longed to fly away above the waving tree-tops to mountain and the bright sun beyond. But that very midnight the lindworm, who was hungry and could not wait for his supper, came out of the brook with a rushing noise, and made straight for the tree. Two eyes of flame came creeping nearer, nearer, and two fiery tongues were stretching themselves out closer, closer, to the little birds who were trembling and shuddering in the farthest corner of the nest. But just as the tongues had almost reached them, the lindworm gave a fearful cry, and turned and fell backwards. Then came the sound of battle from the ground below, and the tree shook, though there was no wind, and roars and snarls mixed together, till the eaglets felt more frightened than ever, and thought their last hour had come. Only Wildrose was undisturbed, and slept sweetly through it all.In the morning the eagle returned and saw traces of a fight below the tree, and here and there a handful of yellow mane lying about, and here and there a hard scaly substance; when he saw that he rejoiced greatly, and hastened to the nest.‘Who has slain the lindworm?’ he asked of his children; there were so many that he did not at first miss the two which the lindworm had eaten. But the eaglets answered that they could not tell, only that they had been in danger of their lives, and at the last moment they had been delivered. Then the sunbeam had struggled through the thick branches and caught Wildrose’s golden hair as she lay curled up in the corner, and the eagle wondered, as he looked, whether the little girl had brought him luck, and it was her magic which had killed his enemy.‘Children,’ he said, ‘I brought her here for your dinner, and you have not touched her; what is the meaning of this?’ But the eaglets did not answer, and Wildrose opened her eyes, and seemed seven times lovelier than before.From that day Wildrose lived like a little princess. The eagle flew about the wood and collected the softest, greenest moss he could find to make her a bed, and then he picked with his beak all the brightest and prettiest flowers in the fields or on the mountains to decorate it. So cleverly did he manage it that there was not a fairy in the whole of the forest who would not have been pleased to sleep there, rocked to and fro by the breeze on the treetops. And when the little ones were able to fly from their nest he taught them where to look for the fruits and berries which she loved.“She lived happily in her nest, standing at the edge in the sunset looking upon the beautiful world.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Crimson Fairy Book (1908), Longmans, Green and Co.So the time passed by, and with each year Wildrose grew taller and more beautiful, and she lived happily in her nest and never wanted to go out of it, only standing at the edge in the sunset, and looking upon the beautiful world. For company she had all the birds in the forest, who came and talked to her, and for playthings the strange flowers which they brought her from far, and the butterflies which danced with her. And so the days slipped away, and she was fourteen years old.One morning the emperor’s son went out to hunt, and he had not ridden far, before a deer started from under a grove of trees, and ran before him. The prince instantly gave chase, and where the stag led he followed, till at length he found himself in the depths of the forest, where no man before had trod.The trees were so thick and the wood so dark, that he paused for a moment and listened, straining his ears to catch some sound to break a silence which almost frightened him. But nothing came, not even the baying of a hound or the note of a horn. He stood still, and wondered if he should go on, when, on looking up, a stream of light seemed to flow from the top of a tall tree. In its rays he could see the nest with the young eaglets, who were watching him over the side. The prince fitted an arrow into his bow and took his aim, but, before he could let fly, another ray of light dazzled him; so brilliant was it, that his bow dropped, and he covered his face with his hands. When at last he ventured to peep, Wildrose, with her golden hair flowing round her, was looking at him. This was the first time she had seen a man.‘Tell me how I can reach you?’ cried he; but Wildrose smiled and shook her head, and sat down quietly.The prince saw that it was no use, and turned and made his way out of the forest. But he might as well have stayed there, for any good he was to his father, so full was his heart of longing for Wildrose. Twice he returned to the forest in the hopes of finding her, but this time fortune failed him, and he went home as sad as ever.At length the emperor, who could not think what had caused this change, sent for his son and asked him what was the matter. Then the prince confessed that the image of Wildrose filled his soul, and that he would never be happy without her. At first the emperor felt rather distressed. He doubted whether a girl from a tree top would make a good empress; but he loved his son so much that he promised to do all he could to find her. So the next morning heralds were sent forth throughout the whole land to inquire if anyone knew where a maiden could be found who lived in a forest on the top of a tree, and to promise great riches and a place at court to any person who should find her. But nobody knew. All the girls in the kingdom had their homes on the ground, and laughed at the notion of being brought up in a tree. ‘A nice kind of empress she would make,’ they said, as the emperor had done, tossing their heads with disdain; for, having read many books, they guessed what she was wanted for.The heralds were almost in despair, when an old woman stepped out of the crowd and came and spoke to them. She was not only very old, but she was very ugly, with a hump on her back and a bald head, and when the heralds saw her they broke into rude laughter. ‘I can show you the maiden who lives in the tree-top,’ she said, but they only laughed the more loudly.‘Get away, old witch!’ they cried, ‘you will bring us bad luck’; but the old woman stood firm, and declared that she alone knew where to find the maiden.‘Go with her,’ said the eldest of the heralds at last. ‘The emperor’s orders are clear, that whoever knew anything of the maiden was to come at once to court. Put her in the coach and take her with us.’So in this fashion the old woman was brought to court.‘You have declared that you can bring hither the maiden from the wood?’ said the emperor, who was seated on his throne.‘Yes, your Majesty, and I will keep my word,’ said she.‘Then bring her at once,’ said the emperor.‘Give me first a kettle and a tripod,’ asked the old w omen, and the emperor ordered them to be brought instantly. The old woman picked them up, and tucking them under her arm went on her way, keeping at a little distance behind the royal huntsmen, who in their turn followed the prince.Oh, what a noise that old woman made as she walked along! She chattered to herself so fast and clattered her kettle so loudly that you would have thought that a whole campful of gipsies must be coming round the next corner. But when they reached the forest, she bade them all wait outside, and entered the dark wood by herself.She stopped underneath the tree where the maiden dwelt and, gathering some dry sticks, kindled a fire. Next, she placed the tripod over it, and the kettle on top. But something was the matter with the kettle. As fast as the old woman put it where it was to stand, that kettle was sure to roll off, falling to the ground with a crash.It really seemed bewitched, and no one knows what might have happened if Wildrose, who had been all the time peeping out of her nest, had not lost patience at the old woman’s stupidity, and cried out: ‘The tripod won’t stand on that hill, you must move it!’‘But where am I to move it to, my child?’ asked the old woman, looking up to the nest, and at the same moment trying to steady the kettle with one hand and the tripod with the other.‘Didn’t I tell you that it was no good doing that,’ said Wildrose, more impatiently than before. ‘Make a fire near a tree and hang the kettle from one of the branches.’The old woman took the kettle and hung it on a little twig, which broke at once, and the kettle fell to the ground.‘If you would only show me how to do it, perhaps I should understand,’ said she.Quick as thought, the maiden slid down the smooth trunk of the tree, and stood beside the stupid old woman, to teach her how things ought to be done. But in an instant the old woman had caught up the girl and swung her over her shoulders, and was running as fast as she could go to the edge of the forest, where she had left the prince. When he saw them coming he rushed eagerly to meet them, and he took the maiden in his arms and kissed her tenderly before them all. Then a golden dress was put on her, and pearls were twined in her hair, and she took her seat in the emperor’s carriage which was drawn by six of the whitest horses in the world, and they carried her, without stopping to draw breath, to the gates of the palace. And in three days the wedding was celebrated, and the wedding feast was held, and everyone who saw the bride declared that if anybody wanted a perfect wife they must go to seek her on top of a tree.
There lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a powerful man who was blessed with all the goods of fortune. A part of the surrounding country was his property, numerous herds fed on his pastures, and a great retinue and a crowd of servants adorned his mansion. He had an only daughter, called Aslog, the fame of whose beauty spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country sought her, but all were alike unsuccessful in their suit, and he who had come full of confidence and joy, rode away home silent and melancholy. Her father, who thought his daughter delayed her choice only to select, forbore to interfere, and exulted in her prudence, but when at length the richest and noblest tried their fortune with as little success as the rest, he grew angry and called his daughter, and said to her—“Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but since I see that you reject all without any distinction, and the very best of your suitors seems not good enough for you, I will keep measures no longer with you. What! shall my family become extinct, and my inheritance pass away into the hands of strangers? I will break your stubborn spirit. I give you now till the festival of the great winter-night. Make your choice by that time, or prepare to accept him whom I shall fix on.”Aslog loved a youth named Orm, handsome as he was brave and noble. She loved him with her whole soul, and she would sooner die than bestow her hand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to serve in the mansion of her father. Aslog’s partiality for him was kept a secret, for her father’s pride of power and wealth was such that he would never have given his consent to a union with so humble a man.When Aslog saw the darkness of his countenance, and heard his angry words, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and doubted not that he would put his threats into execution. Without uttering a word in reply, she retired to her chamber, and thought deeply but in vain how to avert the dark storm that hung over her. The great festival approached nearer and nearer, and her anguish increased every day.At last the lovers resolved on flight.“I know,” said Orm, “a secure place where we may remain undiscovered until we find an opportunity of quitting the country.”At night, when all were asleep, Orm led the trembling Aslog over the snow and ice-fields away to the mountains. The moon and the stars, sparkling still brighter in the cold winter’s night, lighted them on their way. They had under their arms a few articles of dress and some skins of animals, which were all they could carry. They ascended the mountains the whole night long till they reached a lonely spot enclosed with lofty rocks. Here Orm conducted the weary Aslog into a cave, the low and narrow entrance to which was hardly perceptible, but it soon enlarged to a great hall, reaching deep into the mountain. He kindled a fire, and they now, reposing on their skins, sat in the deepest solitude far away from all the world.Orm was the first who had discovered this cave, which is shown to this very day, and as no one knew anything of it, they were safe from the pursuit of Aslog’s father. They passed the whole winter in this retirement. Orm used to go a-hunting, and Aslog stayed at home in the cave, minded the fire, and prepared the necessary food. Frequently did she mount the points of the rocks, but her eyes wandered as far as they could reach only over glittering snow-fields.The spring now came on: the woods were green, the meadows pat on their various colours, and Aslog could but rarely, and with circumspection, venture to leave the cave. One evening Orm came in with the intelligence that he had recognised her father’s servants in the distance, and that he could hardly have been unobserved by them whose eyes were as good as his own.“They will surround this place,” continued he, “and never rest till they have found us. We must quit our retreat then without a minute’s delay.”They accordingly descended on the other side of the mountain, and reached the strand, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm shoved off, and the boat drove into the open sea. They had escaped their pursuers, but they were now exposed to dangers of another kind. Whither should they turn themselves? They could not venture to land, for Aslog’s father was lord of the whole coast, and they would infallibly fall into his hands. Nothing then remained for them but to commit their bark to the wind and waves. They drove along the entire night. At break of day the coast had disappeared, and they saw nothing but the sky above, the sea beneath, and the waves that rose and fell. They had not brought one morsel of food with them, and thirst and hunger began now to torment them. Three days did they toss about in this state of misery, and Aslog, faint and exhausted, saw nothing but certain death before her.At length, on the evening of the third day, they discovered an island of tolerable magnitude, and surrounded by a number of smaller ones. Orm immediately steered for it, but just as he came near to it there suddenly arose a violent wind, and the sea rolled higher and higher against him. He turned about with a view of approaching it on another side, but with no better success. His vessel, as often as he approached the island, was driven back as if by an invisible power.“Lord God!” cried he, and blessed himself and looked on poor Aslog, who seemed to be dying of weakness before his eyes.Scarcely had the exclamation passed his lips when the storm ceased, the waves subsided, and the vessel came to the shore without encountering any hindrance. Orm jumped out on the beach. Some mussels that he found upon the strand strengthened and revived the exhausted Aslog so that she was soon able to leave the boat.The island was overgrown with low dwarf shrubs, and seemed to be uninhabited; but when they had got about the middle of it, they discovered a house reaching but a little above the ground, and appearing to be half under the surface of the earth. In the hope of meeting human beings and assistance, the wanderers approached it. They listened if they could hear any noise, but the most perfect silence reigned there. Orm at length opened the door, and with his companion walked in; but what was their surprise to find everything regulated and arranged as if for inhabitants, yet not a single living creature visible. The fire was burning on the hearth in the middle of the room, and a kettle with fish hung on it, apparently only waiting for some one to take it off and eat. The beds were made and ready to receive their weary tenants. Orm and Aslog stood for some time dubious, and looked on with a certain degree of awe, but at last, overcome with hunger, they took up the food and ate. When they had satisfied their appetites, and still in the last beams of the setting sun, which now streamed over the island far and wide, discovered no human being, they gave way to weariness, and laid themselves in the beds to which they had been so long strangers.They had expected to be awakened in the night by the owners of the house on their return home, but their expectation was not fulfilled. They slept undisturbed till the morning sun shone in upon them. No one appeared on any of the following days, and it seemed as if some invisible power had made ready the house for their reception. They spent the whole summer in perfect happiness. They were, to be sure, solitary, yet they did not miss mankind. The wild birds’ eggs and the fish they caught yielded them provisions in abundance.When autumn came, Aslog presented Orm with a son. In the midst of their joy at his appearance they were surprised by a wonderful apparition. The door opened on a sudden, and an old woman stepped in. She had on her a handsome blue dress. There was something proud, but at the same time strange and surprising in her appearance.“Do not be afraid,” said she, “at my unexpected appearance. I am the owner of this house, and I thank you for the clean and neat state in which you have kept it, and for the good order in which I find everything with you. I would willingly have come sooner, but I had no power to do so, till this little heathen (pointing to the new-born babe) was come to the light. Now I have free access. Only, fetch no priest from the mainland to christen it, or I must depart again. If you will in this matter comply with my wishes, you may not only continue to live here, but all the good that ever you can wish for I will cause you. Whatever you take in hand shall prosper. Good luck shall follow you wherever you go; but break this condition, and depend upon it that misfortune after misfortune will come on you, and even on this child will I avenge myself. If you want anything, or are in danger, you have only to pronounce my name three times, and I will appear and lend you assistance. I am of the race of the old giants, and my name is Guru. But beware of uttering in my presence the name of him whom no giant may hear of, and never venture to make the sign of the cross, or to cut it on beam or on board of the house. You may dwell in this house the whole year long, only be so good as to give it up to me on Yule evening, when the sun is at the lowest, as then we celebrate our great festival, and then only are we permitted to be merry. At least, if you should not be willing to go out of the house, keep yourselves up in the loft as quiet as possible the whole day long, and, as you value your lives, do not look down into the room until midnight is past. After that you may take possession of everything again.”When the old woman had thus spoken she vanished, and Aslog and Orm, now at ease respecting their situation, lived, without any disturbance, content and happy. Orm never made a cast of his net without getting a plentiful draught. He never shot an arrow from his bow that missed its aim. In short, whatever they took in hand, were it ever so trifling, evidently prospered.When Christmas came, they cleaned up the house in the best manner, set everything in order, kindled a fire on the hearth, and, as the twilight approached, they went up to the loft, where they remained quiet and still. At length it grew dark. They thought they heard a sound of flying and labouring in the air, such as the swans make in the winter-time. There was a hole in the roof over the fire-place which might be opened or shut either to let in the light from above or to afford a free passage for the smoke. Orm lifted up the lid, which was covered with a skin, and put out his head, but what a wonderful sight then presented itself to his eyes! The little islands around were all lit up with countless blue lights, which moved about without ceasing, jumped up and down, then skipped down to the shore, assembled together, and now came nearer and nearer to the large island where Orm and Aslog lived. At last they reached it and arranged themselves in a circle around a large stone not far from the shore, and which Orm well knew. What was his surprise when he saw that the stone had now completely assumed the form of a man, though of a monstrous and gigantic one! He could clearly perceive that the little blue lights were borne by dwarfs, whose pale clay-coloured faces, with their huge noses and red eyes, disfigured, too, by birds’ bills and owls’ eyes, were supported by misshapen bodies. They tottered and wobbled about here and there, so that they seemed to be, at the same time, merry and in pain. Suddenly the circle opened, the little ones retired on each side, and Guru, who was now much enlarged and of as immense a size as the stone, advanced with gigantic steps. She threw both her arms about the stone image, which immediately began to receive life and motion. As soon as the first sign of motion showed itself the little ones began, with wonderful capers and grimaces, a song, or, to speak more properly, a howl, with which the whole island resounded and seemed to tremble. Orm, quite terrified, drew in his head, and he and Aslog remained in the dark, so still that they hardly ventured to draw their breath.The procession moved on towards the house, as might be clearly perceived by the nearer approach of the shouting and crying. They were now all come in, and, light and active, the dwarfs jumped about on the benches, and heavy and loud sounded, at intervals, the steps of the giants. Orm and his wife heard them covering the table, and the clattering of the plates, and the shouts of joy with which they celebrated their banquet. When it was over, and it drew near to midnight, they began to dance to that ravishing fairy air which charms the mind into such sweet confusion, and which some have heard in the rocky glens, and learned by listening to the underground musicians. As soon as Aslog caught the sound of the air she felt an irresistible longing to see the dance, nor was Orm able to keep her back.“Let me look,” said she, “or my heart will burst.”She took her child and placed herself at the extreme end of the loft whence, without being observed, she could see all that passed. Long did she gaze, without taking off her eyes for an instant, on the dance, on the bold and wonderful springs of the little creatures who seemed to float in the air and not so much as to touch the ground, while the ravishing melody of the elves filled her whole soul. The child, meanwhile, which lay in her arms, grew sleepy and drew its breath heavily, and without ever thinking of the promise she had given to the old woman, she made, as is usual, the sign of the cross over the mouth of the child, and said—“Christ bless you, my babe!”The instant she had spoken the word there was raised a horrible, piercing cry. The spirits tumbled head over heels out at the door, with terrible crushing and crowding, their lights went out, and in a few minutes the whole house was clear of them and left desolate. Orm and Aslog, frightened to death, hid themselves in the most retired nook in the house. They did not venture to stir till daybreak, and not till the sun shone through the hole in the roof down on the fire-place did they feel courage enough to descend from the loft.The table remained still covered as the underground people had left it. All their vessels, which were of silver, and manufactured in the most beautiful manner, were upon it. In the middle of the room there stood upon the ground a huge copper kettle half-full of sweet mead, and, by the side of it, a drinking-horn of pure gold. In the corner lay against the wall a stringed instrument not unlike a dulcimer, which, as people believe, the giantesses used to play on. They gazed on what was before them full of admiration, but without venturing to lay their hands on anything; but great and fearful was their amazement when, on turning about, they saw sitting at the table an immense figure, which Orm instantly recognised as the giant whom Guru had animated by her embrace. He was now a cold and hard stone. While they were standing gazing on it, Guru herself entered the room in her giant form. She wept so bitterly that the tears trickled down on the ground. It was long ere her sobbing permitted her to utter a single word. At length she spoke—“Great affliction have you brought on me, and henceforth must I weep while I live. I know you have not done this with evil intentions, and therefore I forgive you, though it were a trifle for me to crush the whole house like an egg-shell over your heads.”“Alas!” cried she, “my husband, whom I love more than myself, there he sits petrified for ever. Never again will he open his eyes! Three hundred years lived I with my father on the island of Kunnan, happy in the innocence of youth, as the fairest among the giant maidens. Mighty heroes sued for my hand. The sea around that island is still filled with the rocky fragments which they hurled against each other in their combats. Andfind won the victory, and I plighted myself to him; but ere I was married came the detestable Odin into the country, who overcame my father, and drove us all from the island. My father and sisters fled to the mountains, and since that time my eyes have beheld them no more. Andfind and I saved ourselves on this island, where we for a long time lived in peace and quiet, and thought it would never be interrupted. Destiny, which no one escapes, had determined it otherwise. Oluf came from Britain. They called him the Holy, and Andfind instantly found that his voyage would be inauspicious to the giants. When he heard how Oluf’s ship rushed through the waves, he went down to the strand and blew the sea against him with all his strength. The waves swelled up like mountains, but Oluf was still more mighty than he. His ship flew unchecked through the billows like an arrow from a bow. He steered direct for our island. When the ship was so near that Andfind thought he could reach it with his hands, he grasped at the fore-part with his right hand, and was about to drag it down to the bottom, as he had often done with other ships. Then Oluf, the terrible Oluf, stepped forward, and, crossing his hands over each other, he cried with a loud voice—”“‘Stand there as a stone till the last day!’ and in the same instant my unhappy husband became a mass of rock. The ship went on unimpeded, and ran direct against the mountain, which it cut through, separating from it the little island which lies yonder.”“Ever since my happiness has been annihilated, and lonely and melancholy have I passed my life. On Yule eve alone can petrified giants receive back their life, for the space of seven hours, if one of their race embraces them, and is, at the same time, willing to sacrifice a hundred years of his own life. Seldom does a giant do that. I loved my husband too well not to bring him back cheerfully to life, every time that I could do it, even at the highest price, and never would I reckon how often I had done it that I might not know when the time came when I myself should share his fate, and, at the moment I threw my arms around him, become the same as he. Alas! now even this comfort is taken from me. I can never more by any embrace awake him, since he has heard the name which I dare not utter, and never again will he see the light till the dawn of the last day shall bring it.”“Now I go hence! You will never again behold me! All that is here in the house I give you! My dulcimer alone will I keep. Let no one venture to fix his habitation on the little islands which lie around here. There dwell the little underground ones whom you saw at the festival, and I will protect them as long as I live.”With these words Guru vanished. The next spring Orm took the golden horn and the silver ware to Drontheim where no one knew him. The value of the things was so great that he was able to purchase everything a wealthy man desires. He loaded his ship with his purchases, and returned to the island, where he spent many years in unalloyed happiness, and Aslog’s father was soon reconciled to his wealthy son-in-law.The stone image remained sitting in the house. No human power was able to move it. So hard was the stone that hammer and axe flew in pieces without making the slightest impression upon it. The giant sat there till a holy man came to the island, who, with one single word, removed him back to his former station, where he stands to this hour. The copper kettle, which the underground people left behind them, was preserved as a memorial upon the island, which bears the name of House Island to the present day.
There lived once upon a time, in great poverty, a countryman and his wife: he was mild as a calf, and she as cunning as a serpent. She abused and drubbed her husband for every trifle. One day she begged some corn of a neighbour to make a loaf of bread, and she sent her husband with it to the mill to have it ground. The miller ground the corn, but charged them nothing on account of their poverty; and the countryman set out on his return home with his pan full of flour. But on a sudden there arose such a strong wind that in the twinkle of an eye all the flour was blown out of the pan, which he carried on his head. So he went home and told his wife; and when she heard it she fell to scolding and beating him without mercy; and she threatened him on and on, until at length she grew tired; then she ordered him to go to the wind which had blown away the flour and get paid for it, either in money or in as much flour as there had been in the pan.The poor countryman, whose bones ached with the blows he had received from his wife, went out of the house weeping and wringing his hands; but whither to turn his steps he knew not. And at last he came to a large and dark forest, in which he wandered here and there. At last an old woman met him and said: “My good man, where are you going, and how are you going to find your way? What has brought you into this country, where rarely a bird flies, and rarely does a beast run?”“Good Mother,” replied the man, “force has driven me hither. I went to the mill with some corn, and when it was ground I shook the flour into a pan and went my way home; but suddenly a wind arose and carried off the flour out of the pan; and when I came without it to the house and told my wife, she beat me, and has sent me to seek the Wind, and ask him either to give me back the meal or to pay me for it in money. So now I go here and there to look for the Wind, and know not where to find it.”“Follow me,” said the old woman: “I am the mother of the Winds, and have four sons; the first son is the East Wind, the second is the South Wind, the third is the West Wind, and the fourth the North Wind. Tell me, now, which Wind it is that has blown away your meal?”“The South Wind, Mother dear,” answered the countryman.Then the old woman led the man deeper into the forest, and came to a little hut, and said: “Here I live, master woodman; creep on to the stove, and wrap yourself up; my children will soon be here.”“But why should I wrap myself up?” said the peasant.“Because my son the North Wind is very cold, and you would be frozen,” said the old woman.Not long after, the old woman’s sons began to assemble; and when at length the South Wind came, the old woman called the countryman from the stove and said to her sons: “South Wind, my dear son, a complaint is brought against you; why do you injure poor folks? You have blown away this man’s flour from out of his dish; pay him now for it with money, or how you will.”“Very well, Mother,” replied the Wind, “I will pay him for his flour.” Then he called the countryman and said: “Hark ye, my little farmer, take this basket; it contains everything you can wish for—money, bread, all kinds of food and drink; you have only to say: ‘Basket, give me this and that,’ and it will instantly give you all you desire. Go home now—you have here payment for your flour.” So the countryman made his bow to the South Wind, thanked him for the basket, and went his way home.When the man came home, he gave the basket to his wife, saying: “Here, wife, is a basket for you, which contains everything you can wish for—only ask it.” So the good woman took the basket, and said: “Basket, give me good flour for bread!” And instantly the basket gave her as much as ever she could desire. Then she asked again for this thing and that, and the basket gave her everything in the twinkling of an eye.A few days after, it happened that a nobleman passed by the countryman’s cottage; and when the good woman saw him, she said to her husband; “Go and invite this lord to be our guest; if you don’t bring him here, I will beat you half dead.”The countryman dreaded a beating from his wife. So he went and invited the nobleman to dinner. Meanwhile the good woman took all kinds of food and drink out of the basket, spread the table, and then sat down patiently at the window, laying her hands in her lap, awaiting the arrival of her husband and their guest. The nobleman was astonished at receiving such an invitation and laughed, and would not go home with the man; but instead, he ordered his servants who attended him to go with the countryman, to dinner, and bring him back word how he treated them. So the servants went with the countryman, and when they entered his cottage, they were greatly amazed: for, to judge by his hut, he must be very poor, but from the dishes upon the table he was evidently a person of some consequence. Then they sat down to dinner, and made merry; but they remarked that, whenever the good woman wanted anything, she asked the basket for it, and obtained all she required. So they did not leave the room at once, and sent one of their comrades home to make as quickly as possible just such another basket and bring it to them, without letting the countryman or his wife observe it.Thereupon the man ran as fast as he could, and got a basket just like the other; and when he brought it to the cottage, the guests secretly took the countryman’s basket and put theirs in its place. Then they took leave of the man and his wife, and returned to their master and told him how daintily the countryman had treated them.The countryman’s wife threw away all the food that was left, intending to cook fresh on the morrow. The next morning she went to her basket and began to ask it for what she wanted; and when she found that the basket gave her nothing, she called her husband and said: “Old Greybeard, what basket is this you have brought me? Likely enough it has served us once and for all; and what good is it now if it gives us nothing more? Go back to the Wind and beg him to give us back our flour, or I’ll beat you to death.”So the poor man went back to the Winds. When he came to the old woman, their mother, he fell to complaining of his wife. The old woman told him to wait for her son, who would soon come home.Not long after came the South Wind, and the countryman began to complain of his wife. Then the Wind answered: “I am sorry, old man, that you have such a wicked wife; but I will assist you, and she shall not beat you any more. Take this cask, and when you get home and your wife is going to beat you, place yourself behind the cask and cry: ‘Five! out of the cask and thrash my wife!’ and when they have given her a good beating, then say: ‘Five! back to the cask!’” Then the peasant made a low bow to the Wind, and went his way.When he came home he said: “There, I have brought you here a cask instead of the basket.”At this the good woman flew into a rage and said: “A cask, indeed! What shall I do with it? Why have you brought back no flour?” And, so saying, she seized the poker, and was going to beat her husband. But the poor man stepped quietly behind the cask and cried: “Five! out of the cask! Thrash my wife instantly!” In a moment five stout young fellows jumped out of the cask and fell to cudgelling the woman. And when her husband saw that she was beaten enough, and she begged for mercy, he cried: “Five! back to the cask!” Then instantly they stopped beating her, and crept back into the cask.The countryman thought over his loss and decided to go forthwith to the nobleman and challenge him to fight. The nobleman laughed outright at the folly of the man; nevertheless he would not refuse, as he wished to have some sport; so he told the man to go into the field. So he tucked his cask under his arm, betook himself to the field, and waited for the nobleman, who came riding to meet him with a number of attendants; and, when he drew near, he ordered his servants, for a joke, to thrash the peasant soundly. The man saw that they were mocking him, and he was wroth with the nobleman, and said: “Come, Sir! give me my basket back this instant, or it shall fare ill with you all, I promise!” Nevertheless they did not stop beating, so he cried out: “Out, Five to each! thrash them soundly!” Immediately five stout fellows sprang out of the cask upon every man of them and began to beat them unmercifully. Then the nobleman thought that they would kill him, and roared out with might and main: “Stop, stop, my good friend and hear me!” So the countryman, upon this, cried: “Hold! you fellows! back to the cask!” Then they all stopped beating, and crept back into the cask again. And straightways the nobleman ordered his servants to fetch the basket and give it to the countryman, who took it and hied back home, and lived ever after with his wife in peace and harmony.
Hear me, O ye Britons! On the top of a high rock in Arvon there stood a goat, which a lion perceiving from the valley below, addressed her in this manner:—“My dearest neighbour, why preferrest thou that dry barren rock to feed on? Come down to this charming valley, where thou mayest feed luxuriously upon all sorts of dainties, amongst flowers in shady groves, made fruitful by meandering brooks.”“I am much obliged to you, master,” replied the goat; “perhaps you mean well, and tell me the truth, but you have very bad neighbours, whom I do not like to trust, and those are your teeth, so, with your leave, I prefer staying where I am.”
Then Ali Baba climbed down and went to the door concealed among the bushes, and said: “Open, Sesame!” and it flew open. Ali Baba, who expected a dull, dismal place, was greatly surprised to find it large and well lighted, hollowed by the hand of man in the form of a vault, which received the light from an opening in the ceiling. He saw rich bales of merchandise–silk, stuff-brocades, all piled together, and gold and silver in heaps, and money in leather purses. He went in and the door shut behind him. He did not look at the silver, but brought out as many bags of gold as he thought his asses, which were browsing outside, could carry, loaded them with the bags, and hid it all with fagots. Using the words: “Shut, Sesame!” he closed the door and went home.Then he drove his asses into the yard, shut the gates, carried the money-bags to his wife, and emptied them out before her. He bade her keep the secret, and he would go and bury the gold. “Let me first measure it,” said his wife. “I will go borrow a measure of someone, while you dig the hole.” So she ran to the wife of Cassim and borrowed a measure. Knowing Ali Baba’s poverty, the sister was curious to find out what sort of grain his wife wished to measure, and artfully put some suet at the bottom of the measure. Ali Baba’s wife went home and set the measure on the heap of gold, and filled it and emptied it often, to her great content. She then carried it back to her sister, without noticing that a piece of gold was sticking to it, which Cassim’s wife perceived directly her back was turned. She grew very curious, and said to Cassim when he came home: “Cassim, your brother is richer than you. He does not count his money, he measures it.” He begged her to explain this riddle, which she did by showing him the piece of money and telling him where she found it. Then Cassim grew so envious that he could not sleep, and went to his brother in the morning before sunrise. “Ali Baba,” he said, showing him the gold piece, “you pretend to be poor and yet you measure gold.” By this Ali Baba perceived that through his wife’s folly Cassim and his wife knew their secret, so he confessed all and offered Cassim a share. “That I expect,” said Cassim; “but I must know where to find the treasure, otherwise I will discover all, and you will lose all.” Ali Baba, more out of kindness than fear, told him of the cave, and the very words to use. Cassim left Ali Baba, meaning to be beforehand with him and get the treasure for himself. He rose early next morning, and set out with ten mules loaded with great chests. He soon found the place, and the door in the rock. He said: “Open, Sesame!” and the door opened and shut behind him. He could have feasted his eyes all day on the treasures, but he now hastened to gather together as much of it as possible; but when he was ready to go he could not remember what to say for thinking of his great riches. Instead of “Sesame,” he said: “Open, Barley!” and the door remained fast. He named several different sorts of grain, all but the right one, and the door still stuck fast. He was so frightened at the danger he was in that he had as much forgotten the word as if he had never heard it.About noon the robbers returned to their cave, and saw Cassim’s mules roving about with great chests on their backs. This gave them the alarm; they drew their sabres, and went to the door, which opened on their Captain’s saying: “Open, Sesame!” Cassim, who had heard the trampling of their horses’ feet, resolved to sell his life dearly, so when the door opened he leaped out and threw the Captain down. In vain, however, for the robbers with their sabres soon killed him. On entering the cave they saw all the bags laid ready, and could not imagine how anyone had got in without knowing their secret. They cut Cassim’s body into four quarters, and nailed them up inside the cave, in order to frighten anyone who should venture in, and went away in search of more treasure.As night drew on Cassim’s wife grew very uneasy, and ran to her brother-in-law, and told him where her husband had gone. Ali Baba did his best to comfort her, and set out to the forest in search of Cassim. The first thing he saw on entering the cave was his dead brother. Full of horror, he put the body on one of his asses, and bags of gold on the other two, and, covering all with some fagots, returned home. He drove the two asses laden with gold into his own yard, and led the other to Cassim’s house. The door was opened by the slave Morgiana, whom he knew to be both brave and cunning. Unloading the ass, he said to her: “This is the body of your master, who has been murdered, but whom we must bury as though he had died in his bed. I will speak with you again, but now tell your mistress I am come.” The wife of Cassim, on learning the fate of her husband, broke out into cries and tears, but Ali Baba offered to take her to live with him and his wife if she would promise to keep his counsel and leave everything to Morgiana; whereupon she agreed, and dried her eyes.Morgiana, meanwhile, sought an apothecary and asked him for some lozenges. “My poor master,” she said, “can neither eat nor speak, and no one knows what his distemper is.” She carried home the lozenges and returned next day weeping, and asked for an essence only given to those just about to die. Thus, in the evening, no one was surprised to hear the wretched shrieks and cries of Cassim’s wife and Morgiana, telling everyone that Cassim was dead. The day after Morgiana went to an old cobbler near the gates of the town who opened his stall early, put a piece of gold in his hand, and bade him follow her with his needle and thread. Having bound his eyes with a handkerchief, she took him to the room where the body lay, pulled off the bandage, and bade him sew the quarters together, after which she covered his eyes again and led him home. Then they buried Cassim, and Morgiana his slave followed him to the grave, weeping and tearing her hair, while Cassim’s wife stayed at home uttering lamentable cries. Next day she went to live with Ali Baba, who gave Cassim’s shop to his eldest son.The Forty Thieves, on their return to the cave, were much astonished to find Cassim’s body gone and some of their money-bags. “We are certainly discovered,” said the Captain, “and shall be undone if we cannot find out who it is that knows our secret. Two men must have known it; we have killed one, we must now find the other. To this end one of you who is bold and artful must go into the city dressed as a traveler, and discover whom we have killed, and whether men talk of the strange manner of his death. If the messenger fails he must lose his life, lest we be betrayed.” One of the thieves started up and offered to do this, and after the rest had highly commended him for his bravery he disguised himself, and happened to enter the town at daybreak, just by Baba Mustapha’s stall. The thief bade him good-day, saying: “Honest man, how can you possibly see to stitch at your age?” “Old as I am,” replied the cobbler, “I have very good eyes, and will you believe me when I tell you that I sewed a dead body together in a place where I had less light than I have now.” The robber was overjoyed at his good fortune, and, giving him a piece of gold, desired to be shown the house where he stitched up the dead body. At first Mustapha refused, saying that he had been blindfolded; but when the robber gave him another piece of gold he began to think he might remember the turnings if blindfolded as before. This means succeeded; the robber partly led him, and was partly guided by him, right in front of Cassim’s house, the door of which the robber marked with a piece of chalk. Then, well pleased, he bade farewell to Baba Mustapha and returned to the forest. By and by Morgiana, going out, saw the mark the robber had made, quickly guessed that some mischief was brewing, and fetching a piece of chalk marked two or three doors on each side, without saying anything to her master or mistress.The thief, meantime, told his comrades of his discovery. The Captain thanked him, and bade him show him the house he had marked. But when they came to it they saw that five or six of the houses were chalked in the same manner. The guide was so confounded that he knew not what answer to make, and when they returned he was at once beheaded for having failed. Another robber was dispatched, and, having won over Baba Mustapha, marked the house in red chalk; but Morgiana being again too clever for them, the second messenger was put to death also. The Captain now resolved to go himself, but, wiser than the others, he did not mark the house, but looked at it so closely that he could not fail to remember it. He returned, and ordered his men to go into the neighboring villages and buy nineteen mules, and thirty-eight leather jars, all empty except one, which was full of oil. The Captain put one of his men, fully armed, into each, rubbing the outside of the jars with oil from the full vessel. Then the nineteen mules were loaded with thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, and reached the town by dusk. The Captain stopped his mules in front of Ali Baba’s house, and said to Ali Baba, who was sitting outside for coolness: “I have brought some oil from a distance to sell at to-morrow’s market, but it is now so late that I know not where to pass the night, unless you will do me the favor to take me in.” Though Ali Baba had seen the Captain of the robbers in the forest, he did not recognize him in the disguise of an oil merchant. He bade him welcome, opened his gates for the mules to enter, and went to Morgiana to bid her prepare a bed and supper for his guest. He brought the stranger into his hall, and after they had supped went again to speak to Morgiana in the kitchen, while the Captain went into the yard under pretense of seeing after his mules, but really to tell his men what to do. Beginning at the first jar and ending at the last, he said to each man: “As soon as I throw some stones from the window of the chamber where I lie, cut the jars open with your knives and come out, and I will be with you in a trice.” He returned to the house, and Morgiana led him to his chamber. She then told Abdallah, her fellow-slave, to set on the pot to make some broth for her master, who had gone to bed. Meanwhile her lamp went out, and she had no more oil in the house. “Do not be uneasy,” said Abdallah; “go into the yard and take some out of one of those jars.” Morgiana thanked him for his advice, took the oil pot, and went into the yard. When she came to the first jar the robber inside said softly: “Is it time?”Any other slave but Morgiana, on finding a man in the jar instead of the oil she wanted, would have screamed and made a noise; but she, knowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and answered quietly: “Not yet, but presently.” She went to all the jars, giving the same answer, till she came to the jar of oil. She now saw that her master, thinking to entertain an oil merchant, had let thirty-eight robbers into his house. She filled her oil pot, went back to the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil jar and filled a large kettle full of oil. When it boiled she went and poured enough oil into every jar to stifle and kill the robber inside. When this brave deed was done she went back to the kitchen, put out the fire and the lamp, and waited to see what would happen.In a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke, got up, and opened the window. As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little pebbles which hit the jars. He listened, and as none of his men seemed to stir he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard. On going to the first jar and saying, “Are you asleep?” he smelt the hot boiled oil, and knew at once that his plot to murder Ali Baba and his household had been discovered. He found all the gang was dead, and, missing the oil out of the last jar, became aware of the manner of their death. He then forced the lock of a door leading into a garden, and climbing over several walls made his escape. Morgiana heard and saw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell asleep.At daybreak Ali Baba arose, and, seeing the oil jars still there, asked why the merchant had not gone with his mules. Morgiana bade him look in the first jar and see if there was any oil. Seeing a man, he started back in terror. “Have no fear,” said Morgiana; “the man cannot harm you: he is dead.” Ali Baba, when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment, asked what had become of the merchant. “Merchant!” said she, “he is no more a merchant than I am!” and she told him the whole story, assuring him that it was a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whom only three were left, and that the white and red chalk marks had something to do with it. Ali Baba at once gave Morgiana her freedom, saying that he owed her his life. They then buried the bodies in Ali Baba’s garden, while the mules were sold in the market by his slaves.The Captain returned to his lonely cave, which seemed frightful to him without his lost companions, and firmly resolved to avenge them by killing Ali Baba. He dressed himself carefully, and went into the town, where he took lodgings in an inn. In the course of a great many journeys to the forest he carried away many rich stuffs and much fine linen, and set up a shop opposite that of Ali Baba’s son. He called himself Cogia Hassan, and as he was both civil and well dressed he soon made friends with Ali Baba’s son, and through him with Ali Baba, whom he was continually asking to sup with him. Ali Baba, wishing to return his kindness, invited him into his house and received him smiling, thanking him for his kindness to his son. When the merchant was about to take his leave Ali Baba stopped him, saying: “Where are you going, sir, in such haste? Will you not stay and sup with me?” The merchant refused, saying that he had a reason; and, on Ali Baba’s asking him what that was, he replied: “It is, sir, that I can eat no victuals that have any salt in them.” “If that is all,” said Ali Baba, “let me tell you that there shall be no salt in either the meat or the bread that we eat to-night.” He went to give this order to Morgiana, who was much surprised. “Who is this man,” she said, “who eats no salt with his meat?” “He is an honest man, Morgiana,” returned her master; “therefore do as I bid you.” But she could not withstand a desire to see this strange man, so she helped Abdallah to carry up the dishes, and saw in a moment that Cogia Hassan was the robber Captain, and carried a dagger under his garment. “I am not surprised,” she said to herself, “that this wicked man, who intends to kill my master, will eat no salt with him; but I will hinder his plans.”She sent up the supper by Abdallah, while she made ready for one of the boldest acts that could be thought on. When the dessert had been served, Cogia Hassan was left alone with Ali Baba and his son, whom he thought to make drunk and then to murder them. Morgiana, meanwhile, put on a head-dress like a dancing-girl’s, and clasped a girdle round her waist, from which hung a dagger with a silver hilt, and said to Abdallah: “Take your tabor, and let us go and divert our master and his guest.” Abdallah took his tabor and played before Morgiana until they came to the door, where Abdallah stopped playing and Morgiana made a low courtesy. “Come in, Morgiana,” said Ali Baba, “and let Cogia Hassan see what you can do”; and, turning to Cogia Hassan, he said: “She’s my slave and my housekeeper.” Cogia Hassan was by no means pleased, for he feared that his chance of killing Ali Baba was gone for the present; but he pretended great eagerness to see Morgiana, and Abdallah began to play and Morgiana to dance. After she had performed several dances she drew her dagger and made passes with it, sometimes pointing it at her own breast, sometimes at her master’s, as if it were part of the dance. Suddenly, out of breath, she snatched the tabor from Abdallah with her left hand, and, holding the dagger in her right hand, held out the tabor to her master. Ali Baba and his son put a piece of gold into it, and Cogia Hassan, seeing that she was coming to him, pulled out his purse to make her a present, but while he was putting his hand into it Morgiana plunged the dagger into his heart.“Unhappy girl!” cried Ali Baba and his son, “what have you done to ruin us?”“It was to preserve you, master, not to ruin you,” answered Morgiana. “See here,” opening the false merchant’s garment and showing the dagger; “see what an enemy you have entertained! Remember, he would eat no salt with you, and what more would you have? Look at him! he is both the false oil merchant and the Captain of the Forty Thieves.”Ali Baba was so grateful to Morgiana for thus saving his life that he offered her to his son in marriage, who readily consented, and a few days after the wedding was celebrated with greatest splendor.At the end of a year Ali Baba, hearing nothing of the two remaining robbers, judged they were dead, and set out to the cave. The door opened on his saying: “Open Sesame!” He went in, and saw that nobody had been there since the Captain left it. He brought away as much gold as he could carry, and returned to town. He told his son the secret of the cave, which his son handed down in his turn, so the children and grandchildren of Ali Baba were rich to the end of their lives.
Once upon a time there lived a shoemaker who could get no work to do, and was so poor that he and his wife nearly died of hunger. At last he said to her, ‘It is no use waiting on here—I can find nothing; so I shall go down to Mascalucia, and perhaps there I shall be more lucky.’So down he went to Mascalucia, and walked through the streets crying, ‘Who wants some shoes?’ And very soon a window was pushed up, and a woman’s head was thrust out of it.‘Here are a pair for you to patch,’ she said. And he sat down on her doorstep and set about patching them.‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked when they were done.‘A shilling.’‘Here is eighteen pence, and good luck to you.’ And he went his way. He turned into the next street and set up his cry again, and it was not long before another window was pushed up and another head appeared.‘Here are some shoes for you to patch.’And the shoemaker sat down on the doorstep and patched them.‘How much do I owe you?’ asked the woman when the shoes were finished.‘A florin.’‘Here is a crown piece, and good luck to you.’ And she shut the window.‘Well,’ thought the shoemaker, ‘I have done finely. But I will not go back to my wife just yet, as, if I only go on at this rate, I shall soon have enough money to buy a donkey.’Having made up his mind what was best to do, he stayed in the town a few days longer till he had four gold pieces safe in his purse. Then he went to the market and for two of them he bought a good strong donkey, and, mounting on its back, he rode home to Catania. But as he entered a thick wood he saw in the distance a band of robbers who were coming quickly towards him.‘I am lost,’ thought he; ‘they are sure to take from me all the money that I have earned, and I shall be as poor as ever I was. What can I do?’ However, being a clever little man and full of spirit, he did not lose heart, but, taking five florins, he fastened them out of sight under the donkey’s thick mane. Then he rode on.Directly the robber came up to him they seized him exactly as he had foretold and took away all his money.‘Oh, dear friends!’ he cried, wringing his hands, ‘I am only a poor shoemaker, and have nothing but this donkey left in the world.’As he spoke the donkey gave himself a shake, and down fell the five florins.‘Where did that come from?’ asked the robbers.‘Ah,’ replied the shoemaker, ‘you have guessed my secret. The donkey is a golden donkey, and supplies me with all my money.’‘Sell him to us,’ said the robbers. ‘We will give you any price you like.’The shoemaker at first declared that nothing would induce him to sell him, but at last he agreed to hand him over to the robbers for fifty gold pieces. ‘But listen to what I tell you,’ said he. ‘You must each take it in turn to own him for a night and a day, or else you will all be fighting over the money.’With these words they parted, the robbers driving the donkey to their cave in the forest and the shoemaker returning home, very pleased with the success of his trick. He just stopped on the way to pick up a good dinner, and the next day spent most of his gains in buying a small vineyard.Meanwhile the robbers had arrived at the cave where they lived, and the captain, calling them all round him, announced that it as his right to have the donkey for the first night. His companions agreed, and then he told his wife to put a mattress in the stable. She asked if he had gone out of his mind, but he answered crossly, ‘What is that to you? Do as you are bid, and to-morrow I will bring you some treasures.’Very early the captain awoke and searched the stable, but could find nothing, and guessed that Master Joseph had been making fun of them. ‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘if I have been taken in, the others shall not come off any better.’So, when one of his men arrived and asked him eagerly how much money he had got, he answered gaily, ‘Oh, comrade, if you only knew! But I shall say nothing about it till everyone has had his turn!’One after another they all took the donkey, but no money was forthcoming for anybody. At length, when all the band had been tricked, they held a council, and resolved to march to the shoemaker’s house and punish him well for his cunning. Just as before, the shoemaker saw them a long way off, and began to think how he could outwit them again. When he had hit upon a plan he called his wife, and said to her, ‘Take a bladder and fill it with blood, and bind it round your neck. When the robbers come and demand the money they gave me for the donkey I shall shout to you and tell you to get it quickly. You must argue with me, and decline to obey me, and then I shall plunge my knife into the bladder, and you must fall to the ground as if you were dead. There you must lie till I play on my guitar; then get up and begin to dance.’The wife made haste to do as she was bid, and there was no time to lose, for the robbers were drawing very near the house. They entered with a great noise, and overwhelmed the shoemaker with reproaches for having deceived them about the donkey.‘The poor beast must have lost its power owing to the change of masters,’ said he; ‘but we will not quarrel about it. You shall have back the fifty gold pieces that you gave for him. ‘Aite,’ he cried to his wife, ‘go quickly to the chest upstairs, and bring down the money for these gentlemen.’‘Wait a little,’ answered she; ‘I must first bake this fish. It will be spoilt if I leave it now.’‘Go this instant, as you are bid,’ shouted the shoemaker, stamping as if he was in a great passion; but, as she did not stir, he drew his knife, and stabbed her in the neck. The blood spurted out freely, and she fell to the ground as if she was dead.‘What have you done?’ asked the robbers, looking at him in dismay. ‘The poor woman was doing nothing.’‘Perhaps I was hasty, but it is easily set right,’ replied the shoemaker, taking down his guitar and beginning to play. Hardly had he struck the first notes than his wife sat up; then got on her feet and danced.The robbers stared with open mouths, and at last they said, ‘Master Joseph, you may keep the fifty gold pieces. But tell us what you will take for your guitar, for you must sell it to us?’‘Oh, that is impossible!’ replied the shoemaker, ‘for every time I have a quarrel with my wife I just strike her dead, and so give vent to my anger. This has become such a habit with me that I don’t think I could break myself of it; and, of course, if I got rid of the guitar I could never bring her back to life again.’However, the robbers would not listen to him, and at last he consented to take forty gold pieces for the guitar.Then they all returned to their cave in the forest, delighted with their new purchase, and longing for a chance of trying its powers. But the captain declared that the first trial belonged to him, and after that the others might have their turn.That evening he called to his wife and said, ‘What have you got for supper?’‘Macaroni,’ answered she.‘Why have you not boiled a fish?’ he cried, and stabber in the neck so that she fell dead. The captain, who was not in the least angry, seized the guitar and began to play; but, let him play as loud as he would, the dead woman never stirred. ‘Oh, lying shoemaker! Oh, abominable knave! Twice has he got the better of me. But I will pay him out!’So he raged and swore, but it did him no good. The fact remained that he had killed his wife and could not bring her back again.The next morning came one of the robbers to fetch the guitar, and to hear what had happened.‘Well, how have you got on?’‘Oh, splendidly! I stabbed my wife, and then began to play, and now she is as well as ever.’‘Did you really? Then this evening I will try for myself.’Of course the same thing happened over again, till all the wives had been killed secretly, and when there were no more left they whispered to each other the dreadful tale, and swore to be avenged on the shoemaker.The band lost no time in setting out for his house, and, as before, the shoemaker saw them coming from afar. He called to his wife, who was washing in the kitchen: ‘Listen, Aita: when the robbers come and ask for me say I have gone to the vineyard. Then tell the dog to call me, and chase him from the house.’When he had given these directions he ran out of the back door and hid behind a barrel. A few minutes later the robbers arrived, and called loudly for the shoemaker.‘Alas! good gentlemen, he is up in the vineyard, but I will send the dog after him at once. Here! now quickly to the vineyard, and tell your master some gentlemen are here who wish to speak to him. Go as fast as you can.’ And she opened the door and let the dog out.‘You can really trust the dog to call your husband?’ asked the robbers.‘Dear me, yes! He understands everything, and will always carry any message I give him.’By-and-bye the shoemaker came in and said, ‘Good morning, gentlemen; the dog tells me you wish to speak to me.’‘Yes, we do,’ replied the robber; ‘we have come to speak to you about that guitar. It is your fault that we have murdered all our wives; and, though we played as you told us, none of them ever came back to life.’‘You could not have played properly,’ said the shoemaker. ‘It was your own fault.’‘Well, we will forget all about it,’ answered the robbers, ‘if you will only sell us your dog.’‘Oh, that is impossible! I should never get on without him.’But the robbers offered him forty gold pieces, and at last he agreed to let them have the dog.So they departed, taking the dog with them, and when they got back to their cave the captain declared that it was his right to have the first trial.He then called his daughter, and said to her, ‘I am going to the inn; if anybody wants me, loose the dog, and send him to call me.’About an hour after some one arrived on business, and the girl untied the dog and said, ‘Go to the inn and call my father!’ The dog bounded off, but ran straight to the shoemaker.When the robber got home and found no dog he thought ‘He must have gone back to his old master,’ and, though night had already fallen, he went off after him.‘Master Joseph, is the dog here?’ asked he.‘Ah! yes, the poor beast is so fond of me! You must give him time to get accustomed to new ways.’So the captain brought the dog back, and the following morning handed him over to another of the band, just saying that the animal really could do what the shoemaker had said.The second robber carefully kept his own counsel, and fetched the dog secretly back from the shoemaker, and so on through the whole band. At length, when everybody had suffered, they met and told the whole story, and next day they all marched off in fury to the man who had made game of them. After reproaching him with having deceived them, they tied him up in a sack, and told him they were going to throw him into the sea. The shoemaker lay quite still, and let them do as they would.They went on till they came to a church, and the robbers said, ‘The sun is hot and the sack is heavy; let us leave it here and go in and rest.’ So they put the sack down by the roadside, and went into the church.Now, on a hill near by there was a swineherd looking after a great herd of pigs and whistling merrily.When Master Joseph heard him he cried out as loud as he could, ‘I won’t; I won’t, I say.’‘What won’t you do?’ asked the swineherd.‘Oh,’ replied the shoemaker. ‘They want me to marry the king’s daughter, and I won’t do it.’‘How lucky you are!’ sighed the swineherd. ‘Now, if it were only me!’‘Oh, if that’s all!’ replied the cunning shoemaker, ‘get you into this sack, and let me out.’Then the swineherd opened the sack and took the place of the shoemaker, who went gaily off, driving the pigs before him.When the robbers were rested they came out of the church, took up the sack, and carried it to the sea, where they threw it in, and it sank directly. As they came back they met the shoemaker, and stared at him with open mouths.‘Oh, if you only knew how many pigs live in the sea,’ he cried. ‘And the deeper you go the more there are. I have just brought up these, and mean to return for some more.’‘There are still some left there?’‘Oh, more than I could count,’ replied the shoemaker. ‘I will show you what you must do.’ Then he led the robbers back to the shore. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘you must each of you tie a stone to your necks, so that you may be sure to go deep enough, for I found the pigs that you saw very deep down indeed.’Then the robbers all tied stones round their necks, and jumped in, and were drowned, and Master Joseph drove his pigs home, and was a rich man to the end of his days.
When Loki was driven out by the mighty Thor from Ægir’s palace-hall he knew that he could never again be allowed to come among the gods in Asgard. Many times had this mischievous fire-god brought trouble and sorrow to the Æsir, but now he had done the most cruel deed of all, he had slain Baldur the Good, and had driven all light and joy from Asgard.Far away he fled, among the mountains, hoping that no one would find him there; and near a lovely mountain stream he built for himself a hut with four doors looking north, east, south, and west, so that if the wise Allfather, on his high air throne in Asgard, should see him, and send messengers to punish him, the watchful Loki could see them coming and escape by the opposite door.{Note: Listen to this tale of Norse mythology plus other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}He spent most of the days and nights thinking how he could get away from the Æsir. “If I ran to the stream and turned myself into a fish,” he thought, “I wonder if they could catch me. I could keep out of the way of a hook; but then there are nets; Ægir’s wife has a wonderful thing like a net, for catching fish, and that would be far worse than a hook!”When Loki thought of the net, he began to wonder how it was made, and the more he thought, the more he wished he could make one so as to see how a fish could keep from getting caught in it. He sat down by the fire in his little hut, took a piece of cord and began to make a fish-net. He had nearly finished it when, looking up through the open door, he saw three of the Æsir in the distance, coming toward his hut. Loki well knew that they were coming to catch him, and, quickly throwing his net into the fire, he ran to the stream, changed himself into a beautiful spotted salmon, and leaped into the water.A moment later the three gods entered the hut, and one of them spied the fish-net burning in the fire. “See!” cried he, “Loki must have been making this net to catch fish; he always was a good fisherman, and now this is just what we want for catching him!”So they snatched the last bit of the net from the fire, and by looking at it found out how to make another, which they took with them to the bank of the stream.The first time the net was put into the water, Loki hid between two rocks, and the net was so light that it floated past him; but the next time it had a heavy stone weight, which made it sink down, till Loki saw he could not get away unless he could leap over the net. He did this, but Thor, seeing him, waded out into the stream, where he threw the net again, so that Loki must jump a second time, or else go on out into the deep sea.As he leaped, Thor stooped and caught him in his hand, but the fish was so slippery that Thor could hardly hold it. In the struggle the salmon’s tail was pinched so tightly by the thunder-god’s strong fingers that it was drawn out to a point, and the old stories say that is why salmon tails are so pointed ever since.Thus was Loki caught in his own trap, and dreadful was his punishment. The Æsir chained him to a high rock, and placed a great, poisonous serpent, hanging over the cliff above his head.If it had not been for Loki’s good, faithful wife, he would have died of the poison that dropped from the snake’s mouth. She watched by her husband, holding a cup above him to catch the poison. Only when she had to turn aside to empty the cup did the drops fall upon Loki; then they gave him such terrible pain that he shook the earth with his struggles, and the people in Midgard fled from the dreadful earthquake, in Iceland the great geysers, springs of hot water, burst through the earth, and in the south-lands burning ashes and lava poured down the mountain-sides.There, chained to the cliff, the cruel, mischievous Loki was to lie until the Twilight of the gods, the dark day of Ragnarök, when all the mighty evil monsters and beasts would get free, and the terrible battle be fought between them and the gods of Asgard.
This is a story of the youth of Yamato, when the gods still walked upon the Land of the Reed Plains and took pleasure in the fresh and waving rice-ears of the country-side.There was a lady having in her something of earth and something of heaven. She was a king’s daughter. She was augustly radiant and renowned. She was called the Dear Delight of the World, the Greatly Desired, the Fairest of the Fair. She was slender and strong, at once mysterious and gay, fickle yet faithful, gentle yet hard to please. The gods loved her, but men worshipped her.The coming of the Dear Delight was on this wise. Prince Ama Boko had a red jewel of one of his enemies. The jewel was a peace-offering. Prince Ama Boko set it in a casket upon a stand. He said, “This is a jewel of price.” Then the jewel was transformed into an exceeding fair lady. Her name was the Lady of the Red Jewel, and Prince Ama Boko took her to wife. There was born to them one only daughter, who was the Greatly Desired, the Fairest of the Fair.It is true that eighty men of name came to seek her hand. Princes they were, and warriors, and deities. They came from near and they came from far. Across the Sea Path they came in great ships, white sails or creaking oars, with brave and lusty sailors. Through the forests dark and dangerous they made their way to the Princess, the Greatly Desired; or lightly, lightly they descended by way of the Floating Bridge in garments of glamour and silver-shod. They brought their gifts with them—gold, fair jewels upon a string, light garments of feathers, singing birds, sweet things to eat, silk cocoons, oranges in a basket. They brought minstrels and singers and dancers and tellers of tales to entertain the Princess, the Greatly Desired.As for the Princess, she sat still in her white bower with her maidens about her. Passing rich was her robe, and ever and anon her maidens spread it afresh over the mats, set out her deep sleeves, or combed her long hair with a golden comb.Round about the bower was a gallery of white wood, and here the suitors came and knelt in the presence of their liege lady.Many and many a time the carp leapt in the garden fish-pond. Many and many a time a scarlet pomegranate flower fluttered and dropped from the tree. Many and many a time the lady shook her head and a lover went his way, sad and sorry.Now it happened that the God of Autumn went to try his fortune with the Princess. He was a brave young man indeed. Ardent were his eyes; the colour flamed in his dark cheek. He was girded with a sword that ten men could not lift. The chrysanthemums of autumn burned upon his coat in cunning broidery. He came and bent his proud head to the very ground before the Princess, then raised it and looked her full in the eyes. She opened her sweet red lips—waited—said nothing—but shook her head.So the God of Autumn went forth from her presence, blinded with his bitter tears.He found his younger brother, the God of Spring.“How fares it with you, my brother?” said the God of Spring.“Ill, ill indeed, for she will not have me. She is the proud lady. Mine is the broken heart.”“Ah, my brother!” said the God of Spring.“You’d best come home with me, for all is over with us,” said the God of Autumn.But the God of Spring said, “I stay here.”“What,” cried his brother, “is it likely, then, that she will take you if she’ll have none of me? Will she love the smooth cheeks of a child and flout the man full grown? Will you go to her, brother? She’ll laugh at you for your pains.”“Still I will go,” said the God of Spring.“A wager! A wager!” the God of Autumn cried. “I’ll give you a cask of saké if you win her—saké for the merry feast of your wedding. If you lose her, the saké will be for me. I’ll drown my grief in it.”“Well, brother,” said the God of Spring, “I take the wager. You’ll have your saké like enough indeed.”“And so I think,” said the God of Autumn, and went his ways.Then the young God of Spring went to his mother, who loved him.“Do you love me, my mother?” he said.She answered, “More than a hundred existences.”“Mother,” he said, “get me for my wife the Princess, the Fairest of the Fair. She is called the Greatly Desired; greatly, oh, greatly, do I desire her.”“You love her, my son?” said his mother.“More than a hundred existences,” he said.“Then lie down, my son, my best beloved, lie down and sleep, and I will work for you.”So she spread a couch for him, and when he was asleep she looked on him.“Your face,” she said, “is the sweetest thing in the world.”There was no sleep for her the live-long night, but she went swiftly to a place she knew of, where the wistaria drooped over a still pool. She plucked her sprays and tendrils and brought home as much as she could carry. The wistaria was white and purple, and you must know it was not yet in flower, but hidden in the unopened bud. From it she wove magically a robe. She fashioned sandals also, and a bow and arrows.In the morning she waked the God of Spring.“Come, my son,” she said, “let me put this robe on you.”The God of Spring rubbed his eyes. “A sober suit for courting,” he said. But he did as his mother bade him. And he bound the sandals on his feet, and slung the bow and the arrows in their quiver on his back.“Will all be well, my mother?” he said.“All will be well, beloved,” she answered him.So the God of Spring came before the Fairest of the Fair. And one of her maidens laughed and said:“See, mistress, there comes to woo you to-day only a little plain boy, all in sober grey.”But the Fairest of the Fair lifted up her eyes and looked upon the God of Spring. And in the same moment the wistaria with which he was clothed burst into flower. He was sweet-scented, white and purple from head to heel.The Princess rose from the white mats.“Lord,” she said, “I am yours if you will have me.”Hand in hand they went together to the mother of the God of Spring.“Ah, my mother,” he said, “what shall I do now? My brother the God of Autumn is angry with me. He will not give me the saké I have won from him in a wager. Great is his rage. He will seek to take our lives.”“Be still, beloved,” said his mother, “and fear not.”She took a cane of hollow bamboo, and in the hollow she put salt and stones; and when she had wrapped the cane round with leaves, she hung it in the smoke of the fire. She said:“The green leaves fade and die. So you must do, my eldest born, the God of Autumn. The stone sinks in the sea, so must you sink. You must sink, you must fail, like the ebb tide.”Now the tale is told, and all the world knows why Spring is fresh and merry and young, and Autumn the saddest thing that is.
An old story yet lives of the “Thorny Road of Honour,” of a marksman, who indeed attained to rank and office, but only after a lifelong and weary strife against difficulties. Who has not, in reading this story, thought of his own strife, and of his own numerous “difficulties?” The story is very closely akin to reality; but still it has its harmonious explanation here on earth, while reality often points beyond the confines of life to the regions of eternity. The history of the world is like a magic lantern that displays to us, in light pictures upon the dark ground of the present, how the benefactors of mankind, the martyrs of genius, wandered along the thorny road of honour.From all periods, and from every country, these shining pictures display themselves to us; each only appears for a few moments, but each represents a whole life, sometimes a whole age, with its conflicts and victories. Let us contemplate here and there one of the company of martyrs—the company which will receive new members until the world itself shall pass away.We look down upon a crowded amphitheatre. Out of the “Clouds” of Aristophanes, satire and humour are pouring down in streams upon the audience; on the stage Socrates, the most remarkable man in Athens, he who had been the shield and defence of the people against the thirty tyrants, is held up mentally and bodily to ridicule—Socrates, who saved Alcibiades and Xenophon in the turmoil of battle, and whose genius soared far above the gods of the ancients. He himself is present; he has risen from the spectator’s bench, and has stepped forward, that the laughing Athenians may well appreciate the likeness between himself and the caricature on the stage: there he stands before them, towering high above them all.Thou juicy, green, poisonous hemlock, throw thy shadow over Athens—not thou, olive tree of fame!Seven cities contended for the honour of giving birth to Homer—that is to say, they contended after his death! Let us look at him as he was in his lifetime. He wanders on foot through the cities, and recites his verses for a livelihood; the thought for the morrow turns his hair grey! He, the great seer, is blind, and painfully pursues his way—the sharp thorn tears the mantle of the king of poets. His song yet lives, and through that alone live all the heroes and gods of antiquity.One picture after another springs up from the east, from the west, far removed from each other in time and place, and yet each one forming a portion of the thorny road of honour, on which the thistle indeed displays a flower, but only to adorn the grave.The African, with blunt features, thick lips, and woolly hair, sits on the marble steps of the palace in the capital of Portugal, and begs: he is the submissive slave of Camoens, and but for him, and for the copper coins thrown to him by the passers by, his master, the poet of the “Lusiad,” would die of hunger. Now, a costly monument marks the grave of Camoens.There is a new picture.Behind the iron grating a man appears, pale as death, with long unkempt beard.“I have made a discovery,” he says, “the greatest that has been made for centuries; and they have kept me locked up here for more than twenty years!”“Who is the man?“A madman,” replies the keeper of the madhouse. “What whimsical ideas these lunatics have! He imagines that one can propel things by means of steam. It is Solomon de Cares, the discoverer of the power of steam, whose theory, expressed in dark words, is not understood by Richelieu—and he dies in the madhouse!”Here stands Columbus, whom the street boys used once to follow and jeer, because he wanted to discover a new world—and he has discovered it. Shouts of joy greet him from the breasts of all, and the clash of bells sounds to celebrate his triumphant return; but the clash of the bells of envy soon drowns the others. The discoverer of a world, he who lifted the American gold land from the sea, and gave it to his king—he is rewarded with iron chains. He wishes that these chains may be placed in his coffin, for they witness of the world, and of the way in which a man’s contemporaries reward good service.One picture after another comes crowding on; the thorny path of honour and of fame is over-filled.Here in dark night sits the man who measured the mountains in the moon; he who forced his way out into the endless space, among stars and planets; he, the mighty man who understood the spirit of nature, and felt the earth moving beneath his feet—Galileo. Blind and deaf he sits—an old man thrust through with the spear of suffering, and amid the torments of neglect, scarcely able to lift his foot—that foot with which, in the anguish of his soul, when men denied the truth, he stamped upon the ground with the exclamation, “Yet it moves!”Here stands a woman of childlike mind, yet full of faith and inspiration; she carries the banner in front of the combating army, and brings victory and salvation to her fatherland. The sound of shouting arises, and the pile flames up: they are burning the witch, Joan of Arc. Yes, and a future century jeers at the white lily. Voltaire, the satyr of human intellect, writes “La Pucelle.”At the Thing or assembly at Viborg, the Danish nobles burn the laws of the king—they flame up high, illuminating the period and the lawgiver, and throw a glory into the dark prison tower, where an old man is growing grey and bent. With his finger he marks out a groove in the stone table. It is the popular king who sits there, once the ruler of three kingdoms, the friend of the citizen and the peasant: it is Christian the Second. Enemies wrote his history. Let us remember his improvements of seven and twenty years, if we cannot forget his crime.A ship sails away, quitting the Danish shores; a man leans against the mast, casting a last glance towards the Island Hueen. It is Tycho Brahé. He raised the name of Denmark to the stars, and was rewarded with injury, loss, and sorrow. He is going to a strange country.“The vault of heaven is above me everywhere,” he says, “and what do I want more?” And away sails the famous Dane, the astronomer, to live honoured and free in a strange land.“Ay, free, if only from the unbearable sufferings of the body!” comes in a sigh through time, and strikes upon our ear. What a picture! Griffenfeldt, a Danish Prometheus, bound to the rocky island of Munkholm.We are in America, on the margin of one of the largest rivers; an innumerable crowd has gathered, for it is said that a ship is to sail against wind and weather, bidding defiance to the elements; the man who thinks he can solve the problem is named Robert Fulton. The ship begins its passage, but suddenly it stops. The crowd begins to laugh and whistle and hiss—the very father of the man whistles with the rest.“Conceit! Foolery!” is the cry. “It has happened just as he deserved: put the crack-brain under lock and key!”O human race, canst thou grasp the happiness of such a minute of consciousness, this penetration of the soul by its mission, the moment in which all dejection, and every wound—even those caused by own fault—is changed into health and strength and clearness—when discord is converted to harmony—the minute in which men seem to recognize the manifestation of the heavenly grace in one man, and feel how this one imparts it to all?Thus the thorny path of honour shows itself as a glory, surrounding the earth with its beams: thrice happy he who is chosen to be a wanderer there, and, without merit of his own, to be placed between the builder of the bridge and the earth, between Providence and the human race!On mighty wings the spirit of history floats through the ages, and shows—giving courage and comfort, and awakening gentle thoughts—on the dark nightly background, but in gleaming pictures, the thorny path of honour; which does not, like a fairy tale, end in brilliancy and joy here on earth, but stretches out beyond all time, even into eternity!
I HAD never heard of fairies until one autumn evening in our summer home on the highlands of Petsà, which, eagle-like, watches over olive groves, raisin fields and the blue Corinthian Gulf. Laughter and voices raised in greeting woke me from my early sleep and told me that my Grandmother Adamis was being welcomed to the group of neighbor women who had gathered in our garden to tell stories in the moonlight.“Is it about the Fairy Wife you are going to tell us tonight, Grandmother Adamis?” I heard someone ask.“Or the Fairy Ring? I thought it was the Fairy Ring!” cried another voice.“Oh, the fairies’ palace, Grandmother! You promised to tell us about their palace!”Grandmother Adamis laughed. Rising on my elbow, I could see the younger women hurrying to make a place for her and pass her wine, nuts and cheese. In the center of the group a fire glowed red, in contrast to the clear, silver light of the full moon above. During the autumn months, after the corn is gathered, the grapes crushed and the barrels filled with wine, the villagers spend the evenings out of doors. The older women talk while the girls knit and sing. Now, on Grandmother’s arrival, the girls dropped their work and all grew silent to listen. Grandmother knew more paramythia, myths, than any woman in Eurostena, and she was a born story-teller.In wonder and a breathless, ecstatic fear, I strained my ears to catch what snatches I could. As the strange stories followed one another, forms, pentamorphes, five times beautiful, seemed to glide before me: maidens in white with flowing, golden hair, handsome youths on horseback, chariots of cloud, seas shimmering with jewels, palaces light as foam and lovely as dew in sunshine. Oh, if I could see these things which Grandmother Adamis described! If I could hear the flute-like voices and silvery music which she said rang through the Fairy Hills!But the fairies, it seemed, had some terrible, mysterious power. One must beware. One must not venture alone too high among the mountain tops. The fairies might—Grandmother’s voice would sink to a whisper and the circle of heads draw closer about her. I could learn only that all places are safe for him who carries a loaded gun, the highest hills and even the palaces of the fairies. With this thought, as the moon paled and the dawn came and the group in the garden dispersed, I slept.A gun! That was my first idea on waking. I must have a gun. I intended to see fairies and visit fairy palaces, but where to find the gun? Then I remembered. As soon as I had learned to write at school, an old lady who lived in the neighborhood asked me to write letters for her to her son in America, because she could not write. The first time I went to her house, I noticed a huge, old-fashioned gun hanging on the wall. It had been used, she told me, by her grandfather in the War of 1821, and was called a Karabena. It was very clumsy and had grown rusty, but now as I pictured it, it seemed the most priceless of treasures. There remained only the question of how to make it mine.For months, whenever I was in the old lady’s house, I gazed longingly at the Karabena every moment that I was not writing, and wondered how I could approach the subject. Then one day the following spring, the lady told me that I had been very good and that she wished to give me something in return for what I had done.“Will you give me that gun?” I burst out.“Oh, not that,” she said. “You don’t know how to use it. You would hurt yourself.”I replied that I knew a great deal about guns from having read about them ever since the autumn. Besides, I said, I would accept nothing else from her, so at last she consented. The Karabena was mine.It remained hidden for days among the barrels in our cellar, while I cleaned and polished it a little at a time, and collected powder and shot. Finally the gun was loaded and ready, and very proudly did I set out with it across my shoulder. From the stories of Grandmother Adamis, I understood that the fairies often appeared just at noon, but I started early since it was some distance to the top of the Neraidorahe, Fairy Hill, where the entrances to fairy palaces were said to be found. I was congratulating myself on getting away unseen, when my mother’s voice called from the doorway.“Theodorake, come back. Where did you get that gun?”When I told her, she asked what I was about to do with it. My answer was sufficiently evasive.“Well,” she said, “don’t try to shoot and whatever you do, don’t go up to the Neraidorahe! Evil will come to you!”After waiting till she had returned to her work, I hurried through the village and started up the mountain.“Ho, Theodorake!” rang out above me. The old shepherd known to everyone as Uncle Kostas was making his way down the slope toward me. Since I was in no mood for further interruption, I pressed on as if I had not heard.“Ho there!” came the call again. “I know you, son of Perikles. Where are you going with that Karabena?”“To the Neraidorahe to hunt fairies,” I replied casually.“Stop!” He was directly above me now and he planted himself in my way. The picture of him, in his great, loose shepherd’s cloak, with its pointed hood thrown back, his short, full skirt and his brown shoes with a fluffy red ball on each pointed tip, is still vivid in my mind. “See those hills yonder,” he cried, his right hand extended in a dramatic gesture, his white hair blowing in the wind. “On one of those hills the fairies overpowered me. You do not know what they can do. Listen to me. I was older than you are and I had a better gun than your Karabena. A gun cannot save you. The fairies carried me away and kept me for a year and a day, and it was only by a miracle that I escaped from them. They can take you as they took me, but you may never get away. Listen to one who has lived in their palace and learned their ways and been their prisoner!”Old Uncle Kostas with the help of his staff settled himself heavily on a stone in order to relate his adventure. This was my chance.“The fairies will not scare me,” I told him. “I will fire at them and chase them back into their caves.”I darted past him and went on up the mountain side. When I glanced back and saw him plodding slowly downward shaking his head, I laughed to myself. I would show them all.In the steep, rocky slope above me were several great, black holes like yawning cavern mouths. Perhaps, I thought, these opened on moonlight-flooded gardens and shining palaces and all the beautiful things Grandmother had described. If I could frighten the fairies, I could enter unharmed and see for myself. Carefully I approached the holes, lay down behind a pine tree and made my Karabena ready to shoot at the first fairy that should appear.Soon I heard the whistle of the noon train and I watched it far below as it hurried along the southern shore of the Gulf. The time had come. For a moment everything was still. Then the gently stirring air brought me a soft, whirring sound that grew louder and louder. The air itself, moving faster and faster, became a wind from the north, and at the same time in front of one opening something white went whirling around and around just above the ground.A wild fear rushed upon me. The unknown terrors that were whispered of in the garden and the weird power that had seized Uncle Kostas, seemed to grip my heart. Clutching my gun I turned and tore down the mountain side like one mad. I slipped and stumbled, struck my feet against stones and scratched my arms on tree trunks, but nothing stopped me until I reached home and fell into the kitchen in front of my mother. I accepted her scolding humbly and never again did I go fairy-hunting.
A young Prince was riding one day through a meadow that stretched for miles in front of him, when he came to a deep open ditch. He was turning aside to avoid it, when he heard the sound of someone crying in the ditch. He dismounted from his horse, and stepped along in the direction the sound came from. To his astonishment he found an old woman, who begged him to help her out of the ditch. The Prince bent down and lifted her out of her living grave, asking her at the same time how she had managed to get there.‘My son,’ answered the old woman, ‘I am a very poor woman, and soon after midnight I set out for the neighbouring town in order to sell my eggs in the market on the following morning; but I lost my way in the dark, and fell into this deep ditch, where I might have remained for ever but for your kindness.’Then the Prince said to her, ‘You can hardly walk; I will put you on my horse and lead you home. Where do you live?’‘Over there, at the edge of the forest in the little hut you see in the distance,’ replied the old woman.The Prince lifted her on to his horse, and soon they reached the hut, where the old woman got down, and turning to the Prince said, ‘Just wait a moment, and I will give you something.’ And she disappeared into her hut, but returned very soon and said, ‘You are a mighty Prince, but at the same time you have a kind heart, which deserves to be rewarded. Would you like to have the most beautiful woman in the world for your wife?’‘Most certainly I would,’ replied the Prince.So the old woman continued, ‘The most beautiful woman in the whole world is the daughter of the Queen of the Flowers, who has been captured by a dragon. If you wish to marry her, you must first set her free, and this I will help you to do. I will give you this little bell: if you ring it once, the King of the Eagles will appear; if you ring it twice, the King of the Foxes will come to you; and if you ring it three times, you will see the King of the Fishes by your side. These will help you if you are in any difficulty. Now farewell, and heaven prosper your undertaking.’ She handed him the little bell, and there disappeared hut and all, as though the earth had swallowed her up.Then it dawned on the Prince that he had been speaking to a good fairy, and putting the little bell carefully in his pocket, he rode home and told his father that he meant to set the daughter of the Flower Queen free, and intended setting out on the following day into the wide world in search of the maid.So the next morning the Prince mounted his fine horse and left his home. He had roamed round the world for a whole year, and his horse had died of exhaustion, while he himself had suffered much from want and misery, but still he had come on no trace of her he was in search of. At last one day he came to a hut, in front of which sat a very old man. The Prince asked him, ‘Do you not know where the Dragon lives who keeps the daughter of the Flower Queen prisoner?’‘No, I do not,’ answered the old man. ‘But if you go straight along this road for a year, you will reach a hut where my father lives, and possibly he may be able to tell you.’The Prince thanked him for his information, and continued his journey for a whole year along the same road, and at the end of it came to the little hut, where he found a very old man. He asked him the same question, and the old man answered, ‘No, I do not know where the Dragon lives. But go straight along this road for another year, and you will come to a hut in which my father lives. I know he can tell you.’And so the Prince wandered on for another year, always on the same road, and at last reached the hut where he found the third old man. He put the same question to him as he had put to his son and grandson; but this time the old man answered, ‘The Dragon lives up there on the mountain, and he has just begun his year of sleep. For one whole year he is always awake, and the next he sleeps. But if you wish to see the Flower Queen’s daughter go up the second mountain: the Dragon’s old mother lives there, and she has a ball every night, to which the Flower Queen’s daughter goes regularly.’So the Prince went up the second mountain, where he found a castle all made of gold with diamond windows. He opened the big gate leading into the courtyard, and was just going to walk in, when seven dragons rushed on him and asked him what he wanted?The Prince replied, ‘I have heard so much of the beauty and kindness of the Dragon’s Mother, and would like to enter her service.’This flattering speech pleased the dragons, and the eldest of them said, ‘Well, you may come with me, and I will take you to the Mother Dragon.’They entered the castle and walked through twelve splendid halls, all made of gold and diamonds. In the twelfth room they found the Mother Dragon seated on a diamond throne. She was the ugliest woman under the sun, and, added to it all, she had three heads. Her appearance was a great shock to the Prince, and so was her voice, which was like the croaking of many ravens. She asked him, ‘Why have you come here?’The Prince answered at once, ‘I have heard so much of your beauty and kindness, that I would very much like to enter your service.’‘Very well,’ said the Mother Dragon; ‘but if you wish to enter my service, you must first lead my mare out to the meadow and look after her for three days; but if you don’t bring her home safely every evening, we will eat you up.’The Prince undertook the task and led the mare out to the meadow.But no sooner had they reached the grass than she vanished. The Prince sought for her in vain, and at last in despair sat down on a big stone and contemplated his sad fate. As he sat thus lost in thought, he noticed an eagle flying over his head. Then he suddenly bethought him of his little bell, and taking it out of his pocket he rang it once. In a moment he heard a rustling sound in the air beside him, and the King of the Eagles sank at his feet.‘I know what you want of me,’ the bird said. ‘You are looking for the Mother Dragon’s mare who is galloping about among the clouds. I will summon all the eagles of the air together, and order them to catch the mare and bring her to you.’ And with these words the King of the Eagles flew away. Towards evening the Prince heard a mighty rushing sound in the air, and when he looked up he saw thousands of eagles driving the mare before them. They sank at his feet on to the ground and gave the mare over to him. Then the Prince rode home to the old Mother Dragon, who was full of wonder when she saw him, and said, ‘You have succeeded to-day in looking after my mare, and as a reward you shall come to my ball to-night.’ She gave him at the same time a cloak made of copper, and led him to a big room where several young he-dragons and she-dragons were dancing together. Here, too, was the Flower Queen’s beautiful daughter. Her dress was woven out of the most lovely flowers in the world, and her complexion was like lilies and roses. As the Prince was dancing with her he managed to whisper in her ear, ‘I have come to set you free!’Then the beautiful girl said to him, ‘If you succeed in bringing the mare back safely the third day, ask the Mother Dragon to give you a foal of the mare as a reward.’The ball came to an end at midnight, and early next morning the Prince again led the Mother Dragon’s mare out into the meadow. But again she vanished before his eyes. Then he took out his little bell and rang it twice.In a moment the King of the Foxes stood before him and said: ‘I know already what you want, and will summon all the foxes of the world together to find the mare who has hidden herself in a hill.’With these words the King of the Foxes disappeared, and in the evening many thousand foxes brought the mare to the Prince.Then he rode home to the Mother-Dragon, from whom he received this time a cloak made of silver, and again she led him to the ball-room.The Flower Queen’s daughter was delighted to see him safe and sound, and when they were dancing together she whispered in his ear: ‘If you succeed again to-morrow, wait for me with the foal in the meadow. After the ball we will fly away together.’On the third day the Prince led the mare to the meadow again; but once more she vanished before his eyes. Then the Prince took out his little bell and rang it three times.In a moment the King of the Fishes appeared, and said to him: ‘I know quite well what you want me to do, and I will summon all the fishes of the sea together, and tell them to bring you back the mare, who is hiding herself in a river.’Towards evening the mare was returned to him, and when he led her home to the Mother Dragon she said to him:‘You are a brave youth, and I will make you my body-servant. But what shall I give you as a reward to begin with?’The Prince begged for a foal of the mare, which the Mother Dragon at once gave him, and over and above, a cloak made of gold, for she had fallen in love with him because he had praised her beauty.So in the evening he appeared at the ball in his golden cloak; but before the entertainment was over he slipped away, and went straight to the stables, where he mounted his foal and rode out into the meadow to wait for the Flower Queen’s daughter. Towards midnight the beautiful girl appeared, and placing her in front of him on his horse, the Prince and she flew like the wind till they reached the Flower Queen’s dwelling. But the dragons had noticed their flight, and woke their brother out of his year’s sleep. He flew into a terrible rage when he heard what had happened, and determined to lay siege to the Flower Queen’s palace; but the Queen caused a forest of flowers as high as the sky to grow up round her dwelling, through which no one could force a way.When the Flower Queen heard that her daughter wanted to marry the Prince, she said to him: ‘I will give my consent to your marriage gladly, but my daughter can only stay with you in summer. In winter, when everything is dead and the ground covered with snow, she must come and live with me in my palace underground.’ The Prince consented to this, and led his beautiful bride home, where the wedding was held with great pomp and magnificence. The young couple lived happily together till winter came, when the Flower Queen’s daughter departed and went home to her mother. In summer she returned to her husband, and their life of joy and happiness began again, and lasted till the approach of winter, when the Flower Queen’s daughter went back again to her mother. This coming and going continued all her life long, and in spite of it they always lived happily together.
Two ravens had Odin All-Father; Hugin and Munin were their names; they flew through all the worlds every day, and coming back to Asgard they would light on Odin’s shoulders and tell him of all the things they had seen and heard. And once a day passed without the ravens coming back. Then Odin, standing on the Watch-Tower Hlidskjalf, said to himself:I fear me for Hugin,Lest he come not back,But I watch more for Munin.A day passed and the ravens flew back. They sat, one on each of his shoulders. Then did the All-Father go into the Council Hall that was beside Glasir, the wood that had leaves of gold, and harken to what Hugin and Munin had to tell him.They told him only of shadows and forebodings. Odin All-Father did not speak to the Dwellers in Asgard of the things they told him. But Frigga, his Queen, saw in his eyes the shadows and forebodings of things to come. And when he spoke to her about these things she said, “Do not strive against what must take place. Let us go to the holy Norns who sit by Urda’s Well and see if the shadows and the forebodings will remain when you have looked into their eyes.”And so it came that Odin and the Gods left Asgard and came to Urda’s Well, where, under the great root of Ygdrassil, the three Norns sat, with the two fair swans below them. Odin went, and Tyr, the great swordsman, and Baldur, the most beautiful and the Best-Beloved of the Gods, and Thor, with his Hammer.A Rainbow Bridge went from Asgard, the City of the Gods, to Midgard, the World of Men. But another Rainbow Bridge, more beautiful and more tremulous still, went from Asgard to that root of Ygdrassil under which was Urda’s Well. This Rainbow Bridge was seldom seen by men. And where the ends of the two rainbows came together Heimdall stood, Heimdall with the Golden Teeth, the Watcher for the Gods, and the Keeper of the Way to Urda’s Well.“Open the gate, Heimdall,” said the All-Father, “open the gate, for today the Gods would visit the holy Norns.”Without a word Heimdall opened wide the gate that led to that bridge more colored and more tremulous than any rainbow seen from earth. Then did Odin and Tyr and Baldur step out on the bridge. Thor followed, but before his foot was placed on the bridge, Heimdall laid his hand upon him.“The others may go, but you may not go that way, Thor,” said Heimdall.“What? Would you, Heimdall, hold me back?” said Thor.“Yes, for I am Keeper of the Way to the Norns,” said Heimdall. “You with the mighty hammer you carry are too weighty for this way. The bridge I guard would break under you, Thor with the hammer.”“Nevertheless I will go visit the Norns with Odin and my comrades,” said Thor.“But not this way, Thor,” said Heimdall. “I will not let the bridge be broken under the weight of you and your hammer. Leave your hammer here with me if you would go this way.”“No, no,” said Thor. “I will not leave in any one’s charge the hammer that defends Asgard. And I may not be turned back from going with Odin and my comrades.”“There is another way to Urda’s Well,” said Heimdall. “Behold these two great Cloud Rivers, Körmt and Ermt. Canst thou wade through them? They are cold and suffocating, but they will bring thee to Urda’s Well, where sit the three holy Norns.”Odin, Tyr, and Baldur were beside Urda’s Well when Thor came struggling out of the Cloud River, wet and choking, but with his hammer still upon his shoulder. There stood Tyr, upright and handsome, leaning on his sword that was inscribed all over with magic runes; there stood Baldur, smiling, with his head bent as he listened to the murmur of the two fair swans; and there stood Odin All-Father, clad in his blue cloak fringed with golden stars, without the eagle-helmet upon his head, and with no spear in his hands.The three Norns, Urda, Verdandi, and Skulda, sat beside the well that was in the hollow of the great root of Ygdrassil. Urda was ancient and with white hair, and Verdandi was beautiful, while Skulda could hardly be seen, for she sat far back, and her hair fell over her face and eyes. Urda, Verdandi, and Skulda; they knew the whole of the Past, the whole of the Present, and the whole of the Future. Odin, looking on them, saw into the eyes of Skulda even. Long, long he stood looking on the Norns with the eyes of a God, while the others listened to the murmur of the swans and the falling of the leaves of Ygdrassil into Urda’s Well.Looking into their eyes, Odin saw the shadows and forebodings that Hugin and Munin told him of take shape and substance. And now others came across the Rainbow Bridge. They were Frigga and Sif and Nanna, the wives of Odin and Thor and Baldur. Frigga looked upon the Norns. As she did, she turned a glance of love and sadness upon Baldur, her son, and then she drew back and placed her hand upon Nanna’s head.Odin turned from gazing on the Norns, and looked upon Frigga, his queenly wife. “I would leave Asgard for a while, wife of Odin,” he said.“Yea,” said Frigga. “Much has to be done in Midgard, the World of Men.”“I would change what knowledge I have into wisdom,” said Odin, “so that the things that are to happen will be changed into the best that may be.”“You would go to Mimir’s Well,” said Frigga.“I would go to Mimir’s Well,” said Odin.“My husband, go,” said Frigga.Then they went back over that Rainbow Bridge that is more beautiful and more tremulous than the one that men see from the earth; they went back over the Rainbow Bridge, the Æsir and the Asyniur, Odin and Frigga, Baldur and Nanna, Tyr, with his sword, and Sif beside Tyr. As for Thor, he went struggling through the Cloud Rivers Körmt and Ermt, his hammer Miölnir upon his shoulder.Little Hnossa, the youngest of the Dwellers in Asgard, was there, standing beside Heimdall, the Watcher for the Gods and the Keeper of the Bridge to Urda’s Well, when Odin All-Father and Frigga, his Queen, went through the great gate with heads bent. “Tomorrow,” Hnossa heard Odin say, “tomorrow I shall be Vegtam the Wanderer upon the ways of Midgard and Jötunheim.”
An honest Hampshire farmer was sore distressed by the nightly unsettling of his barn. However straightly, over night, he laid his sheaves on the threshing floor, for the application of the morning’s flail, when morning came all was topsy-turvy, higgledy-piggledy, though the door remained locked, and there was no sign whatever of irregular entry.“I weat; you weat?” (I sweat; do you sweat?)Hodge could contain himself no longer. He leapt out, crying—“The deuce sweat ye! Let me get among ye.”The fairies all flew away so frightened that they never disturbed the barn any more.
A little maid of three years was missing from her home on the Genesee. She had gone to gather water-lilies and did not return. Her mother, almost crazed with grief, searched for days, weeks, months, before she could resign herself to the thought that her little one—Kayutah, the Drop Star, the Indians called her—had indeed been drowned. Years went by. The woman’s home was secure against pillage, for it was no longer the one house of a white family in that region, and the Indians had retired farther and farther into the wilderness. One day a hunter came to the woman and said, “I have seen old Skenandoh,—the last of his tribe, thank God! who bade me say this to you: that the ice is broken, and he knows of a hill of snow where a red berry grows that shall be yours if you will claim it.” When the meaning of this message came upon her the woman fainted, but on recovering speech she despatched her nephew to the hut of the aged chief and passed that night in prayer.The young man set off at sunset, and by hard riding, over dim trails, with only stars for light, he came in the gray of dawn to an upright timber, colored red and hung with scalps, that had been cut from white men’s heads at the massacre of Wyoming. The place they still call Painted Post. Without drawing rein he sped along the hills that hem Lake Seneca, then, striking deeper into the wilds, he reached a smaller lake, and almost fell from his saddle before a rude tent near the shore. A new grave had been dug close by, and he shuddered to think that perhaps he had come too late, but a wrinkled Indian stepped forth at that moment and waited his word.“I come,” cried the youth,—”to see the berry that springs from snow.”“You come in time,” answered Skenandoh. “No, ’tis not in that grave. It is my own child that is buried there. She was as a sister to the one you seek, and she bade me restore the Drop Star to her mother,—the squaw that we know as the New Moon’s Light.”Stepping into the wigwam, he emerged again, clasping the wrist of a girl of eighteen, whose robe he tore asunder at the throat, showing the white breast, and on it a red birth-mark; then, leading her to the young man, he said,—”And now I must go to the setting sun.” He slung a pouch about him, loaded, not with arms and food, but stones, stepped into his canoe, and paddled out upon the water, singing as he went a melancholy chant—his deathsong. On gaining the middle of the lake he swung his tomahawk and clove the bottom of the frail boat, so that it filled in a moment and the chief sank from sight. The young man took his cousin to her overjoyed mother, helped to win her back to the ways of civilized life, and eventually married her. She took her Christian name again, but left to the lake on whose banks she had lived so long her Indian name of Drop Star—Kayutah.
RAVEN was traveling but he didn’t know whence he came or whither he was going. As he journeyed along he was thinking, “How did I come to be alive? Where did I come from? Where am I going?” After traveling a long time he saw a smoke and going toward it saw four hunters–blackbirds. Afraid to go near them he hid in the forest and watched.The next morning after the hunters had started away, Raven crept up to their camp, stole their meat, carried it into the woods and made a camp for himself. He was lonely and he said, “I wish there were other people here.” Looking around he saw a house west of his camp and going to it found Robin and his wife and five children. Raven ate the youngest child, then ate the other four. The father and mother tried to drive him away, but could not. When at last Raven went off he left old Rabin and his wife crying for their children.Sometime after this, Raven saw a camp off in the southeast and going there found a family of Sparrows. He was afraid of the old people and he ran off, but they followed him, caught up and hit him on the head till they drove him far away.“It is a shame to let such little people beat me!” thought Raven. But he was afraid to go back.Now Raven had gone far from his camp; he hunted everywhere in the forest but couldn’t find it. “Well,” said he at last, “let it go, I don’t care!” and he walked away toward the North. Just before dark, he found a camp and going towards it saw four men and a large quantity of meat. He hid in the forest and the next morning’, looking toward the camp, he again saw the hunters.“I’ll wait till they go away,” thought Raven, “then I’ll steal their meat.” Soon he heard the men moving around, then all was quiet and he knew that they had gone. He crept slowly toward the camp, but when he reached it be didn’t find even one bite of meat–they were the hunters from whom he had stolen before. They had finished hunting, had packed their meat and started for home.Raven was disappointed. He walked on and toward night found another camp. Creeping near it, he again saw the four hunters. He listened to what they were saying.One said, “I wonder who stole our meat that day?”Another said, “I think the thief is walking around in the woods, I think his name is Raven.”“Oh,” thought Raven, “they are talking about me. They will be on the watch. How can I get their meat? Then he said, “Let them fall asleep and sleep soundly!”That minute the four hunters fell asleep. Raven went up boldly, took their meat, carried it off into the woods and hid it, saying, “This is the kind of man I am!”The next morning the four hunters missed their meat.One said, “Somebody has stolen my meat!”Another asked, “Who has stolen my meat?”The third said, “I dreamed that I saw Raven around here and he started off toward the Southwest.”Then the four said, “Let us follow the direction given by the dream.”The hunters started to follow the thief. Soon they came to the place where he was camped. Raven had been out all night and now he was sleeping soundly.One of the men said, “We must kill him.”“No,” said another, “let him live, he didn’t kill us while we were asleep.”They took their meat and went away.When Raven woke up, he was very hungry, but the meat was gone. “Well,” thought he, “I must hunt for something to eat.” He traveled around in every direction but found no game. About midday he heard the noise of people. He listened a while then went on till he came to a house. A man inside the house was singing and the song said, “Raven is coming! Look out! Be careful! Raven is coming!”“Why does he sing about me?” thought Raven, “I’ll go in and find out.”He went into the house and found Ground-bird and his wife and four children.“I have come to stay a few days with you,” said Raven.“Very well,” said the man.That night Raven ate the four children, then he lay down and slept.The next morning the father and mother asked, “Where are our children?”Raven said, “I dreamed that a man came and carried your children off, and my dream told me which way he went. I will go with you and hunt for them.”When the three had traveled some distance Raven said, “The man who stole your children lives on that high cliff over there. I can’t go there with you, for I don’t like that man. I will wait here till you come back.”As soon as the father and mother were out of sight, Raven ran off. He traveled till he came to where there were many of his own people. They were dancing and he sat down to watch them.Soon Muck-worm was seen coming from the East. The people stopped dancing and ran in every direction, but Muck-worm pursued them and catching one after another by the neck he threw them aside dead.Raven, who was watching, thought, “What sort of man is that? I wish he would see me. He can’t throw me off dead, in that way.”Muck-worm, after killing many of the Raven people, started toward the West, Raven followed him. Muck-worm kept on for a long time without seeming to know that there was anyone behind him, but at last he stopped, looked back, and asked, “What do you want?”“I don’t want anything,” said Raven, “I’ve come to be company for you.”“I don’t want company,” said Muck-worm.Raven was frightened. Both men stood still for a minute then Muck-worm sprang at Raven and caught him. He would have killed him, but Raven screamed so loudly that many of his people heard the cry and came to his aid. They flew at Muck-worm and pecked him to death.
On an island above the falls of the Androscoggin, at Lewiston, Maine, lived a white recluse at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The natives, having had good reason to mistrust all palefaces, could think no good of the man who lived thus among but not with them. Often they gathered at the bank and looked across at his solitary candle twinkling among the leaves, and wondered what manner of evil he could be planning against them. Wherever there are many conspirators one will be a gabbler or a traitor; so, when the natives had resolved on his murder, he, somehow, learned of their intent and set himself to thwart it. So great was their fear of this lonely man, and of the malignant powers he might conjure to his aid, that nearly fifty Indians joined the expedition, to give each other courage.Their plan was to go a little distance up the river and come down with the current, thus avoiding the dip of paddles that he might hear in a direct crossing. When it was quite dark they set off, and keeping headway on their canoes aimed them toward the light that glimmered above the water. But the cunning hermit had no fire in his cabin that night. It was burning on a point below his shelter, and from his hiding-place among the rocks he saw their fleet, as dim and silent as shadows, go by him on the way to the misguiding beacon.Presently a cry arose. The savages had passed the point of safe sailing; their boats had become unmanageable. Forgetting their errand, their only hope now was to save themselves, but in vain they tried to reach the shore: the current was whirling them to their doom. Cries and death-songs mingled with the deepening roar of the waters, the light barks reached the cataract and leaped into the air. Then the night was still again, save for the booming of the flood. Not one of the Indians who had set out on this errand of death survived the hermit’s stratagem.
Once there was a presidente who was very unjust to his people, and one day he became so angry that he wished he had horns so that he might frighten them. No sooner had he made this rash wish, than horns began to grow on his head.He sent for a barber who came to his house to cut his hair, and as he worked the presidente asked:“What do you see on my head?”“I see nothing,” answered the barber; for although he could see the horns plainly, he was afraid to say so.Soon, however, the presidente put up his hands and felt the horns, and then when he inquired again the barber told him that he had two horns.“If you tell anyone what you have seen, you shall be hanged,” said the presidente as the barber started away, and he was greatly frightened.When he reached home, the barber did not intend to tell anyone, for he was afraid; but as he thought of his secret more and more, the desire to tell someone became so strong that he knew he could not keep it. Finally he went to the field and dug a hole under some bamboo, and when the hole was large enough he crawled in and whispered that the presidente had horns. He then climbed out, filled up the hole, and went home.By and by some people came along the road on their way to market, and as they passed the bamboo they stopped in amazement, for surely a voice came from the trees, and it said that the presidente had horns. These people hastened to market and told what they had heard, and the people there went to the bamboo to listen to the strange voice. They informed others, and soon the news had spread all over the town. The councilmen were told, and they, too, went to the bamboo. When they had heard the voice, they ran to the house of the presidente. But his wife said that he was ill and they could not see him.By this time the horns had grown until they were one foot in length, and the presidente was so ashamed that he bade his wife tell the people that he could not talk. She told this to the councilmen when they came on the following day, but they replied that they must see him, for they had heard that he had horns, and if this were true he had no right to govern the people.She refused to let them in, so they broke down the door. They saw the horns on the head of the presidente and killed him. For, they said, he was no better than an animal.
The sun was just sinking behind the hills when we started for War Eagle’s lodge.“To-morrow will be a fine day,” said Other-person, “for grandfather says that a red sky is always the sun’s promise of fine weather, and the sun cannot lie.”“Yes,” said Bluebird, “and he said that when this moon was new it travelled well south for this time of year and its points were up. That means fine, warm weather.”“I wish I knew as much as grandfather,” said Fine-bow with pride.The pipe was laid aside at once upon our entering the lodge and the old warrior said:“I have told you that OLD-man taught the animals and the birds all they know. He made them and therefore knew just what each would have to understand in order to make his living. They have never forgotten anything he told them—even to this day. Their grandfathers told the young ones what they had been told, just as I am telling you the things you should know. Be like the birds and animals—tell your children and grandchildren what I have told you, that our people may always know how things were made, and why strange things are true.“Yes—OLD-man taught the Beaver how to build his dams to make the water deeper; taught the Squirrel to plant the pine-nut so that another tree might grow and have nuts for his children; told the Bear to go to sleep in the winter, when the snow made hard travelling for his short legs—told him to sleep, and promised him that he would need no meat while he slept. All winter long the Bear sleeps and eats nothing, because OLD-man told him that he could. He sleeps so much in the winter that he spends most of his time in summer hunting.“It was OLD-man who showed the Owl how to hunt at night and it was OLD-man that taught the Weasel all his wonderful ways—his bloodthirsty ways—for the Weasel is the bravest of the animal-people, considering his size. He taught the Beaver one strange thing that you have noticed, and that is to lay sticks on the creek-bottoms, so that they will stay there as long as he wants them to.“Whenever the animal-people got into trouble they always sought OLD-man and told him about it. All were busy working and making a living, when one day it commenced to rain. That was nothing, of course, but it didn’t stop as it had always done before. No, it kept right on raining until the rivers overran their banks, and the water chased the Weasel out of his hole in the ground. Yes, and it found the Rabbit’s hiding-place and made him leave it. It crept into the lodge of the Wolf at night and frightened his wife and children. It poured into the den of the Bear among the rocks and he had to move. It crawled under the logs in the forest and found the Mice-people. Out it went to the plains and chased them out of their homes in the buffalo skulls. At last the Beavers’ dams broke under the strain and that made everything worse. It was bad—very bad, indeed. Everybody except the fish-people were frightened and all went to find OLD-man that they might tell him what had happened. Finally they found his fire, far up on a timbered bench, and they said that they wanted a council right away.“It was a strange sight to see the Eagle sitting next to the Grouse; the Rabbit sitting close to the Lynx; the Mouse right under the very nose of the Bobcat, and the tiny Humming-bird talking to the Hawk in a whisper, as though they had always been great friends. All about OLD-man’s fire they sat and whispered or talked in signs. Even the Deer spoke to the Mountain-lion, and the Antelope told the Wolf that he was glad to see him, because fear had made them all friends.“The whispering and the sign-making stopped when OLD-man raised his hand-like that” (here War Eagle raised his hand with the palm outward)—”and asked them what was troubling them.“The Bear spoke first, of course, and told how the water had made him move his camp. He said all the animal-people were moving their homes, and he was afraid they would be unable to find good camping-places, because of the water. Then the Beaver spoke, because he is wise and all the forest-people know it. He said his dams would not hold back the water that came against them; that the whole world was a lake, and that he thought they were on an island. He said he could live in the water longer than most people, but that as far as he could see they would all die except, perhaps, the fish-people, who stayed in the water all the time, anyhow. He said he couldn’t think of a thing to do—then he sat down and the sign-talking and whispering commenced again.“OLD-man smoked a long time—smoked and thought hard. Finally he grabbed his magic stone axe, and began to sing his war-song. Then the rest knew he had made up his mind and knew what he would do. Swow! he struck a mighty pine-tree a blow, and it fell down. Swow! down went another and another, until he had ten times ten of the longest, straightest, and largest trees in all the world lying side by side before him. Then OLD-man chopped off the limbs, and with the aid of magic rolled the great logs tight together. With withes of willow that he told the Beaver to cut for him, he bound the logs fast together until they were all as one. It was a monstrous raft that OLD-man had built, as he sang his song in the darkness. At last he cried, ‘Ho! everybody hurry and sit on this raft I have made’; and they did hurry.“It was not long till the water had reached the logs; then it crept in between them, and finally it went on past the raft and off into the forest, looking for more trouble.“By and by the raft began to groan, and the willow withes squeaked and cried out as though ghost-people were crying in the night. That was when the great logs began to tremble as the water lifted them from the ground. Rain was falling—night was there, and fear made cowards of the bravest on the raft. All through the forest there were bad noises—noises that make the heart cold—as the raft bumped against great trees rising from the earth that they were leaving forever.“Higher and higher went the raft; higher than the bushes; higher than the limbs on the trees; higher than the Woodpecker’s nest; higher than the tree tops, and even higher than the mountains. Then the world was no more, for the water had whipped the land in the war it made against it.“Day came, and still the rain was falling. Night returned, and yet the rain came down. For many days and nights they drifted in the falling rain; whirling and twisting about while the water played with the great raft, as a Bear would play with a Mouse. It was bad, and they were all afraid—even OLD-man himself was scared.“At last the sun came but there was no land. All was water. The water was the world. It reached even to the sky and touched it all about the edges. All were hungry, and some of them were grumbling, too. There are always grumblers when there is great trouble, but they are not the ones who become great chiefs—ever.“OLD-man sat in the middle of the raft and thought. He knew that something must be done, but he didn’t know what. Finally he said: ‘Ho! Chipmunk, bring me the Spotted Loon. Tell him I want him.’“The Chipmunk found the Spotted Loon and told him that OLD-man wanted him, so the Loon went to where OLD-man sat. When he got there, OLD-man said:“‘Spotted Loon you are a great diver. Nobody can dive as you can. I made you that way and I know. If you will dive and swim down to the world I think you might bring me some of the dirt that it is made of—then I am sure I can make another world.’“‘It is too deep, this water,’ replied the Loon, ‘I am afraid I shall drown.’“‘Well, what if you do?’ said OLD-man. ‘I gave you life, and if you lose it this way I will return it to you. You shall live again!’“‘All right, OLD-man,’ he answered, ‘I am willing to try’; so he waddled to the edge of the raft. He is a poor walker—the Loon, and you know I told you why. It was all because OLD-man kicked him in the back the night he painted all the Duck-people.“Down went the Spotted Loon, and long he stayed beneath the water. All waited and watched, and longed for good luck, but when he came to the top he was dead. Everybody groaned—all felt badly, I can tell you, as OLD-man laid the dead Loon on the logs. The Loon’s wife was crying, but OLD-man told her to shut up and she did.“Then OLD-man blew his own breath into the Loon’s bill, and he came back to life.“‘What did you see, Brother Loon?’ asked OLD-man, while everybody crowded as close as he could.“‘Nothing but water,’ answered the Loon, ‘we shall all die here, I cannot reach the world by swimming. My heart stops working.’“There were many brave ones on the raft, and the Otter tried to reach the world by diving; and the Beaver, and the Gray Goose, and the Gray Goose’s wife; but all died in trying, and all were given a new life by OLD-man. Things were bad and getting worse. Everybody was cross, and all wondered what OLD-man would do next, when somebody laughed.“All turned to see what there could be to laugh at, at such a time, and OLD-man turned about just in time to see the Muskrat bid good-by to his wife—that was what they were laughing at. But he paid no attention to OLD-man or the rest, and slipped from the raft to the water. Flip!—his tail cut the water like a knife, and he was gone. Some laughed again, but all wondered at his daring, and waited with little hope in their hearts; for the Muskrat wasn’t very great, they thought.“He was gone longer than the Loon, longer than the Beaver, longer than the Otter or the Gray Goose or his wife, but when he came to the surface of the water he was dead.“OLD-man brought Muskrat back to life, and asked him what he had seen on his journey. Muskrat said: ‘I saw trees, OLD-man, but I died before I got to them.’“OLD-man told him he was brave. He said his people should forever be great if he succeeded in bringing some dirt to the raft; so just as soon as the Muskrat was rested he dove again.“When he came up he was dead, but clinched in his tiny hand OLD-man found some dirt—not much, but a little. A second time OLD-man gave the Muskrat his breath, and told him that he must go once more, and bring dirt. He said there was not quite enough in the first lot, so after resting a while the Muskrat tried a third time and a third time he died, but brought up a little more dirt.“Everybody on the raft was anxious now, and they were all crowding about OLD-man; but he told them to stand back, and they did. Then he blew his breath in Muskrat’s mouth a third time, and a third time he lived and joined his wife.“OLD-man then dried the dirt in his hands, rubbing it slowly and singing a queer song. Finally it was dry; then he settled the hand that held the dirt in the water slowly, until the water touched the dirt. The dry dirt began to whirl about and then OLD-man blew upon it. Hard he blew and waved his hands, and the dirt began to grow in size right before their eyes. OLD-man kept blowing and waving his hands until the dirt became real land, and the trees began to grow. So large it grew that none could see across it. Then he stopped his blowing and sang some more. Everybody wanted to get off the raft, but OLD-man said ‘no.’“‘Come here, Wolf,’ he said, and the Wolf came to him.“‘You are swift of foot and brave. Run around this land I have made, that I may know how large it is.’“The Wolf started, and it took him half a year to get back to the raft. He was very poor from much running, too, but OLD-man said the world wasn’t big enough yet so he blew some more, and again sent the Wolf out to run around the land. He never came back—no, the OLD-man had made it so big that the Wolf died of old age before he got back to the raft. Then all the people went out upon the land to make their living, and they were happy, there, too.“After they had been on the land for a long time OLD-man said: ‘Now I shall make a man and a woman, for I am lonesome living with you people. He took two or three handfuls of mud from the world he had made, and moulded both a man and a woman. Then he set them side by side and breathed upon them. They lived!—and he made them very strong and healthy—very beautiful to look upon. Chippewas, he called these people, and they lived happily on that world until a white man saw an Eagle sailing over the land and came to look about. He stole the woman—that white man did; and that is where all the tribes came from that we know to-day. None are pure of blood but the two humans he made of clay, and their own children. And they are the Chippewas!“That is a long story and now you must hurry to bed. To-morrow night I will tell you another story—Ho!”
There is a street in Copenhagen that has this strange name—”Hysken Sträde.” Whence comes this name, and what is its meaning? It is said to be German; but injustice has been done to the Germans in this matter, for it would have to be “Häuschen,” and not “Hysken.” For here stood, once upon a time, and indeed for a great many years, a few little houses, which were principally nothing more than wooden booths, just as we see now in the market-places at fair-time. They were, perhaps, a little larger, and had windows; but the panes consisted of horn or bladder, for glass was then too expensive to be used in every house. But then we are speaking of a long time ago—so long since, that grandfather and great-grandfather, when they talked about them, used to speak of them as “the old times”—in fact, it is several centuries ago.The rich merchants in Bremen and Lubeck carried on trade with Copenhagen. They did not reside in the town themselves, but sent their clerks, who lived in the wooden booths in the Häuschen Street, and sold beer and spices. The German beer was good, and there were many kinds of it, as there were, for instance, Bremen, and Prussinger, and Sous beer, and even Brunswick mumm; and quantities of spices were sold—saffron, and aniseed, and ginger, and especially pepper. Yes, pepper was the chief article here, and so it happened that the German clerks got the nickname “pepper gentry;” and there was a condition made with them in Lubeck and in Bremen, that they would not marry at Copenhagen, and many of them became very old. They had to care for themselves, and to look after their own comforts, and to put out their own fires—when they had any; and some of them became very solitary old boys, with eccentric ideas and eccentric habits. From them all unmarried men, who have attained a certain age, are called in Denmark “pepper gentry;” and this must be understood by all who wish to comprehend this history.The “pepper gentleman” becomes a butt for ridicule, and is continually told that he ought to put on his nightcap, and draw it down over his eyes, and do nothing but sleep. The boys sing,“Cut, cut wood!Poor bachelor so good.Go, take your nightcap, go to rest,For ’tis the nightcap suits you best!”Yes, that’s what they sing about the “pepperer”—thus they make game of the poor bachelor and his nightcap, and turn it into ridicule, just because they know very little about either. Ah, that kind of nightcap no one should wish to earn! And why not?—We shall hear.the pepperer’s booth.In the old times the “Housekin Street” was not paved, and the people stumbled out of one hole into another, as in a neglected bye-way; and it was narrow too. The booths leaned side by side, and stood so close together that in the summer time a sail was often stretched from one booth to its opposite neighbour, on which occasion the fragrance of pepper, saffron, and ginger became doubly powerful. Behind the counters young men were seldom seen. The clerks were generally old boys; but they did not look like what we should fancy them, namely, with wig, and nightcap, and plush small-clothes, and with waistcoat and coat buttoned up to the chin. No, grandfather’s great-grandfather may look like that, and has been thus portrayed, but the “pepper gentry” had no superfluous means, and accordingly did not have their portraits taken; though, indeed, it would be interesting now to have a picture of one of them, as he stood behind the counter or went to church on holy days. His hat was high-crowned and broad-brimmed, and sometimes one of the youngest clerks would mount a feather. The woollen shirt was hidden behind a broad linen collar, the close jacket was buttoned up to the chin, and the cloak hung loose over it; and the trousers were tucked into the broad-toed shoes, for the clerks did not wear stockings. In their girdles they sported a dinner-knife and spoon, and a larger knife was placed there also for the defence of the owner; and this weapon was often very necessary. Just so was Anthony, one of the oldest clerks, clad on high days and holy days, except that, instead of a high-crowned hat, he wore a low bonnet, and under it a knitted cap (a regular nightcap), to which he had grown so accustomed that it was always on his head; and he had two of them—nightcaps, of course. The old fellow was a subject for a painter. He was as thin as a lath, had wrinkles clustering round his eyes and mouth, and long bony fingers, and bushy grey eyebrows: over the left eye hung quite a tuft of hair, and that did not look very handsome, though it made him very noticeable. People knew that he came from Bremen; but that was not his native place, though his master lived there. His own native place was in Thuringia, the town of Eisenach, close by the Wartburg. Old Anthony did not speak much of this, but he thought of it all the more.The old clerks of the Häuschen Street did not often come together. Each one remained in his booth, which was closed early in the evening; and then it looked dark enough in the street: only a faint glimmer of light forced its way through the little horn-pane in the roof; and in the booth sat, generally on his bed, the old bachelor, his German hymn-book in his hand, singing an evening psalm in a low voice; or he went about in the booth till late into the night, and busied himself about all sorts of things. It was certainly not an amusing life. To be a stranger in a strange land is a bitter lot: nobody cares for you, unless you happen to get in anybody’s way.Often when it was dark night outside, with snow and rain, the place looked very gloomy and lonely. No lamps were to be seen, with the exception of one solitary light hanging before the picture of the Virgin that was fastened against the wall. The plash of the water against the neighbouring rampart at the castle wharf could be plainly heard. Such evenings are long and dreary, unless people devise some employment for themselves. There is not always packing or unpacking to do, nor can the scales be polished or paper bags be made continually; and, failing these, people should devise other employment for themselves. And that is just what old Anthony did; for he used to mend his clothes and put pieces on his boots. When he at last sought his couch, he used from habit to keep his nightcap on. He drew it down a little closer; but soon he would push it up again, to see if the light had been properly extinguished. He would touch it, press the wick together, and then lie down on the other side, and draw his nightcap down again; but then a doubt would come upon him, if every coal in the little fire-pan below had been properly deadened and put out—a tiny spark might have been left burning, and might set fire to something and cause damage. And therefore he rose from his bed, and crept down the ladder, for it could scarcely be called a stair. And when he came to the fire-pan not a spark was to be discovered, and he might just go back again. But often, when he had gone half of the way back, it would occur to him that the shutters might not be securely fastened; yes, then his thin legs must carry him downstairs once more. He was cold, and his teeth chattered in his mouth when he crept back again to bed; for the cold seems to become doubly severe when it knows it cannot stay much longer. He drew up the coverlet closer around him, and pulled down the nightcap lower over his brows, and turned his thoughts away from trade and from the labours of the day. But that did not procure him agreeable entertainment; for now old thoughts came and put up their curtains, and these curtains have sometimes pins in them, with which one pricks oneself, and one cries out “Oh!” and they prick into one’s flesh and burn so, that the tears sometimes come into one’s eyes; and that often happened to old Anthony—hot tears. The largest pearls streamed forth, and fell on the coverlet or on the floor, and then they sounded as if one of his heart-strings had broken. Sometimes again they seemed to rise up in flame, illuminating a picture of life that never faded out of his heart. If he then dried his eyes with his nightcap, the tear and the picture were indeed crushed, but the source of the tears remained, and welled up afresh from his heart. The pictures did not come up in the order in which the scenes had occurred in reality, for very often the most painful would come together; then again the most joyful would come, but these had the deepest shadows of all.The beech woods of Denmark are acknowledged to be fine, but the woods of Thuringia arose far more beautiful in the eyes of Anthony. More mighty and more venerable seemed to him the old oaks around the proud knightly castle, where the creeping plants hung down over the stony blocks of the rock; sweeter there bloomed the flowers of the apple tree than in the Danish land. This he remembered very vividly. A glittering tear rolled down over his cheek; and in this tear he could plainly see two children playing—a boy and a girl. The boy had red cheeks, and yellow curling hair, and honest blue eyes. He was the son of the merchant Anthony—it was himself. The little girl had brown eyes and black hair, and had a bright clever look. She was the burgomaster’s daughter Molly. The two were playing with an apple. They shook the apple, and heard the pips rattling in it. Then they cut the apple in two, and each of them took a half; they divided even the pips, and ate them all but one, which the little girl proposed that they should lay in the earth.“Then you shall see,” she said, “what will come out. It will be something you don’t at all expect. A whole apple tree will come out, but not directly.”And she put the pip in a flower-pot, and both were very busy and eager about it. The boy made a hole in the earth with his finger, and the little girl dropped the pip in it, and they both covered it with earth.“Now, you must not take it out to-morrow to see if it has struck root,” said Molly. “That won’t do at all. I did it with my flowers; but only twice. I wanted to see if they were growing—and I didn’t know any better then—and the plants withered.”Anthony took away the flower-pot, and every morning, the whole winter through, he looked at it; but nothing was to be seen but the black earth. At length, however, the spring came, and the sun shone warm again; and two little green leaves came up out of the pot.“Those are for me and Molly,” said the boy. “That’s beautiful—that’s marvellously beautiful!”Soon a third leaf made its appearance. Whom did that represent? Yes, and there came another, and yet another. Day by day and week by week they grew larger, and the plant began to take the form of a real tree. And all this was now mirrored in a single tear, which was wiped away and disappeared; but it might come again from its source in the heart of old Anthony.In the neighbourhood of Eisenach a row of stony mountains rises up. One of these mountains is round in outline, and lifts itself above the rest, naked and without tree, bush, or grass. It is called the Venus Mount. In this mountain dwells Lady Venus, one of the deities of the heathen times. She is also called Lady Holle; and every child in and around Eisenach has heard about her. She it was who lured Tannhauser, the noble knight and minstrel, from the circle of the singers of the Wartburg into her mountain.Little Molly and Anthony often stood by this mountain; and once Molly said:“You may knock and say, ‘Lady Holle, open the door—Tannhauser is here!”But Anthony did not dare. Molly, however, did it, though she only said the words “Lady Holle, Lady Holle!” aloud and distinctly; the rest she muttered so indistinctly that Anthony felt convinced she had not really said anything; and yet she looked as bold and saucy as possible—as saucy as when she sometimes came round him with other little girls in the garden, and all wanted to kiss him because he did not like to be kissed and tried to keep them off; and she was the only one who dared to kiss him in spite of his resistance.“I may kiss him!” she would say proudly.That was her vanity; and Anthony submitted, and thought no more about it.How charming and how teasing Molly was! It was said that Lady Holle in the mountain was beautiful also, but that her beauty was like that of a tempting fiend. The greatest beauty and grace was possessed by Saint Elizabeth, the patron of the country, the pious Princess of Thuringia, whose good actions have been immortalized in many places in legends and stories. In the chapel her picture was hanging, surrounded by silver lamps; but it was not in the least like Molly.The apple tree which the two children had planted grew year by year, and became taller and taller—so tall, that it had to be transplanted into the garden, into the fresh air, where the dew fell and the sun shone warm. And the tree developed itself strongly, so that it could resist the winter. And it seemed as if, after the rigour of the cold season was past, it put forth blossoms in spring for very joy. In the autumn it brought two apples—one for Molly and one for Anthony. It could not well have produced less.The tree had grown apace, and Molly grew like the tree. She was as fresh as an apple-blossom; but Anthony was not long to behold this flower. All things change! Molly’s father left his old home, and Molly went with him, far away. Yes, in our time steam has made the journey they took a matter of a few hours, but then more than a day and a night were necessary to go so far eastward from Eisenach to the furthest border of Thuringia, to the city which is still called Weimar.And Molly wept, and Anthony wept; but all their tears melted into one, and this tear had the rosy, charming hue of joy. For Molly told him she loved him—loved him more than all the splendours of Weimar.One, two, three years went by, and during this period two letters were received. One came by a carrier, and a traveller brought the other. The way was long and difficult, and passed through many windings by towns and villages.Often had Molly and Anthony heard of Tristram and Iseult, and often had the boy applied the story to himself and Molly, though the name Tristram was said to mean “born in tribulation,” and that did not apply to Anthony, nor would he ever be able to think, like Tristram, “She has forgotten me.” But, indeed, Iseult did not forget her faithful knight; and when both were laid to rest in the earth, one on each side of the church, the linden trees grew from their graves over the church roof, and there encountered each other in bloom. Anthony thought that was beautiful, but mournful; but it could not become mournful between him and Molly: and he whistled a song of the old minne-singer, Walter of the Vogelverde:“Under the lindensUpon the heath.”And especially that passage appeared charming to him:“From the forest, down in the vale,Sang her sweet song the nightingale.”This song was often in his mouth, and he sang and whistled it in the moonlight nights, when he rode along the deep hollow way on horseback to get to Weimar and visit Molly. He wished to come unexpectedly, and he came unexpectedly.He was made welcome with full goblets of wine, with jovial company, fine company, and a pretty room and a good bed were provided for him; and yet his reception was not what he had dreamt and fancied it would be. He could not understand himself—he could not understand the others: but we can understand it. One may be admitted into a house and associate with a family without becoming one of them. One may converse together as one would converse in a post-carriage, and know one another as people know each other on a journey, each incommoding the other and wishing that either oneself or the good neighbour were away. Yes, this was the kind of thing Anthony felt.“I am an honest girl,” said Molly; “and I myself will tell you what it is. Much has changed since we were children together—changed inwardly and outwardly. Habit and will have no power over our hearts. Anthony, I should not like to have an enemy in you, now that I shall soon be far away from here. Believe me, I entertain the best wishes for you; but to feel for you what I know now one may feel for a man, has never been the case with me. You must reconcile yourself to this. Farewell, Anthony!”And Anthony bade her farewell. No tear came into his eye, but he felt that he was no longer Molly’s friend. Hot iron and cold iron alike take the skin from our lips, and we have the same feeling when we kiss it: and he kissed himself into hatred as into love.Within twenty-four hours Anthony was back in Eisenach, though certainly the horse on which he rode was ruined.“What matter!” he said: “I am ruined too; and I will destroy everything that can remind me of her, or of Lady Holle, or Venus the heathen woman! I will break down the apple tree and tear it up by the roots, so that it shall never bear flower or fruit more!”But the apple tree was not broken down, though he himself was broken down, and bound on a couch by fever. What was it that raised him up again? A medicine was presented to him which had strength to do this—the bitterest of medicines, that shakes up body and spirit together. Anthony’s father ceased to be the richest of merchants. Heavy days—days of trial—were at the door; misfortune came rolling into the house like great waves of the sea. The father became a poor man. Sorrow and suffering took away his strength. Then Anthony had to think of something else besides nursing his love-sorrows and his anger against Molly. He had to take his father’s place—to give orders, to help, to act energetically, and at last to go out into the world and earn his bread.Anthony went to Bremen. There he learned what poverty and hard living meant; and these sometimes make the heart hard, and sometimes soften it, even too much.How different the world was, and how different the people were from what he had supposed them to be in his childhood! What were the minne-singer’s songs to him now?—an echo, a vanishing sound! Yes, that is what he thought sometimes; but again the songs would sound in his soul, and his heart became gentle.“God’s will is best!” he would say then. “It was well that I was not permitted to keep Molly’s heart—that she did not remain true to me. What would it have led to now, when fortune has turned away from me? She quitted me before she knew of this loss of prosperity, or had any notion of what awaited me. That was a mercy of Providence towards me. Everything has happened for the best. It was not her fault—and I have been so bitter, and have shown so much rancour towards her!”And years went by. Anthony’s father was dead, and strangers lived in the old house. But Anthony was destined to see it again. His rich employer sent him on commercial journeys, and his duty led him into his native town of Eisenach. The old Wartburg stood unchanged on the mountain, with “the monk and the nun” hewn out in stone. The great oaks gave to the scene the outlines it had possessed in childish days. The Venus Mount glimmered grey and naked over the valley. He would have been glad to cry, “Lady Holle, Lady Holle, unlock the door, and I shall enter and remain in my native earth!”That was a sinful thought, and he blessed himself to drive it away. Then a little bird out of the thicket sang clearly, and the old minne-song came into his mind:“From the forest, down in the vale,Sang her sweet song the nightingale.”And here in the town of his childhood, which he thus saw again through tears, much came back into his remembrance. The paternal house stood as in the old times; but the garden was altered, and a field-path led over a portion of the old ground, and the apple tree that he had not broken down stood there, but outside the garden, on the farther side of the path. But the sun threw its rays on the apple tree as in the old days, the dew descended gently upon it as then, and it bore such a burden of fruit that the branches were bent down towards the earth.“That flourishes!” he said. “The tree can grow!”Nevertheless, one of the branches of the tree was broken. Mischievous hands had torn it down towards the ground; for now the tree stood by the public way.“They break its blossoms off without a feeling of thankfulness—they steal its fruit and break the branches. One might say of the tree as has been said of some men—’It was not sung at his cradle that it should come thus.’ How brightly its history began, and what has it come to? Forsaken and forgotten—a garden tree by the hedge, in the field, and on the public way! There it stands unprotected, plundered, and broken! It has certainly not died, but in the course of years the number of blossoms will diminish; at last the fruit will cease altogether; and at last—at last all will be over!”Such were Anthony’s thoughts under the tree; such were his thoughts during many a night in the lonely chamber of the wooden house in the distant land—in the Häuschen Street in Copenhagen, whither his rich employer, the Bremen merchant, had sent him, first making it a condition that he should not marry.“Marry! Ha, ha!” he laughed bitterly to himself.Winter had set in early; it was freezing hard. Without, a snow-storm was raging, so that every one who could do so remained at home; thus, too, it happened that those who lived opposite to Anthony did not notice that for two days his house had not been unlocked, and that he did not show himself; for who would go out unnecessarily in such weather?They were grey, gloomy days; and in the house, whose windows were not of glass, twilight only alternated with dark night. Old Anthony had not left his bed during the two days, for he had not the strength to rise; he had for a long time felt in his limbs the hardness of the weather. Forsaken by all, lay the old bachelor, unable to help himself. He could scarcely reach the water-jug that he had placed by his bedside, and the last drop it contained had been consumed. It was not fever, nor sickness, but old age that had struck him down. Up yonder, where his couch was placed, he was overshadowed as it were by continual night. A little spider, which, however, he could not see, busily and cheerfully span its web around him, as if it were weaving a little crape banner that should wave when the old man closed his eyes.The time was very slow, and long, and dreary. Tears he had none to shed, nor did he feel pain. The thought of Molly never came into his mind. He felt as if the world and its noise concerned him no longer—as if he were lying outside the world, and no one were thinking of him. For a moment he felt a sensation of hunger—of thirst. Yes, he felt them both. But nobody came to tend him—nobody. He thought of those who had once suffered want; of Saint Elizabeth, as she had once wandered on earth; of her, the saint of his home and of his childhood, the noble Duchess of Thuringia, the benevolent lady who had been accustomed to visit the lowliest cottages, bringing to the inmates refreshment and comfort. Her pious deeds shone bright upon his soul. He thought of her as she had come to distribute words of comfort, binding up the wounds of the afflicted, giving meat to the hungry; though her stern husband had chidden her for it. He thought of the legend told of her, how she had been carrying the full basket containing food and wine, when her husband, who watched her footsteps, came forth and asked angrily what she was carrying, whereupon she answered, in fear and trembling, that the basket contained roses which she had plucked in the garden; how he had torn away the white cloth from the basket, and a miracle had been performed for the pious lady; for bread, and wine, and everything in the basket had been transformed into roses!Thus the saint’s memory dwelt in Anthony’s quiet mind; thus she stood bodily before his downcast face, before his warehouse in the simple booth in the Danish land. He uncovered his head, and looked into her gentle eyes, and everything around him was beautiful and roseate. Yes, the roses seemed to unfold themselves in fragrance. There came to him a sweet, peculiar odour of apples, and he saw a blooming apple tree, which spread its branches above him—it was the tree which Molly and he had planted together.And the tree strewed down its fragrant leaves upon him, cooling his burning brow. The leaves fell upon his parched lips, and were like strengthening bread and wine; and they fell upon his breast, and he felt reassured and calm, and inclined to sleep peacefully.“Now I shall sleep,” he whispered to himself. “Sleep is refreshing. To-morrow I shall be upon my feet again, and strong and well—glorious, wonderful! That apple tree, planted in true affection, now stands before me in heavenly radiance——”And he slept.The day afterwards—it was the third day that his shop had remained closed—the snow-storm had ceased, and a neighbour from the opposite house came over towards the booth where dwelt old Anthony, who had not yet shown himself. Anthony lay stretched upon his bed—dead—with his old cap clutched tightly in his two hands! They did not put that cap on his head in his coffin, for he had a new white one.Where were now the tears that he had wept? What had become of the pearls? They remained in the nightcap—and the true ones do not come out in the wash—they were preserved in the nightcap, and in time forgotten; but the old thoughts and the old dreams still remained in the “bachelor’s nightcap.” Don’t wish for such a cap for yourself. It would make your forehead very hot, would make your pulse beat feverishly, and conjure up dreams which appear like reality. The first who wore that identical cap afterwards felt all that at once, though it was half a century afterwards; and that man was the burgomaster himself, who, with his wife and eleven children, was well and firmly established, and had amassed a very tolerable amount of wealth. He was immediately seized with dreams of unfortunate love, of bankruptcy, and of heavy times.“Hallo! how the nightcap burns!” he cried out, and tore it from his head.And a pearl rolled out, and another, and another, and they sounded and glittered.“This must be gout,” said the burgomaster. “Something dazzles my eyes!”They were tears, shed half a century before by old Anthony from Eisenach.Every one who afterwards put that nightcap upon his head had visions and dreams which excited him not a little. His own history was changed into that of Anthony, and became a story; in fact, many stories. But some one else may tell them. We have told the first. And our last word is—don’t wish for “The Old Bachelor’s Nightcap.”
Once upon a time there lived a man who had two sons but they did not get on at all well together, for the younger was much handsomer than his elder brother who was very jealous of him. When they grew older, things became worse and worse, and at last one day as they were walking through a wood the elder youth seized hold of the other, tied him to a tree, and went on his way hoping that the boy might starve to death.However, it happened that an old and humpbacked shepherd passed the tree with his flock, and seeing the prisoner, he stopped and said to him, ‘Tell me, my son why are you tied to that tree?’‘Because I was so crooked,’ answered the young man; ‘but it has quite cured me, and now my back is as straight as can be.’‘I wish you would bind me to a tree,’ exclaimed the shepherd, ‘so that my back would get straight.’‘With all the pleasure in life,’ replied the youth. ‘If you will loosen these cords I will tie you up with them as firmly as I can.’This was soon done, and then the young man drove off the sheep, leaving their real shepherd to repent of his folly; and before he had gone very far he met with a horse boy and a driver of oxen, and he persuaded them to turn with him and to seek for adventures.By these and many other tricks he soon became so celebrated that his fame reached the king’s ears, and his majesty was filled with curiosity to see the man who had managed to outwit everybody. So he commanded his guards to capture the young man and bring him before him.And when the young man stood before the king, the king spoke to him and said, ‘By your tricks and the pranks that you have played on other people, you have, in the eye of the law, forfeited your life. But on one condition I will spare you, and that is, if you will bring me the flying horse that belongs to the great dragon. Fail in this, and you shall be hewn in a thousand pieces.’‘If that is all,’ said the youth, ‘you shall soon have it.’So he went out and made his way straight to the stable where the flying horse was tethered. He stretched his hand cautiously out to seize the bridle, when the horse suddenly began to neigh as loud as he could. Now the room in which the dragon slept was just above the stable, and at the sound of the neighing he woke and cried to the horse, ‘What is the matter, my treasure? is anything hurting you?’ After waiting a little while the young man tried again to loose the horse, but a second time it neighed so loudly that the dragon woke up in a hurry and called out to know why the horse was making such a noise. But when the same thing happened the third time, the dragon lost his temper, and went down into the stable and took a whip and gave the horse a good beating. This offended the horse and made him angry, and when the young man stretched out his hand to untie his head, he made no further fuss, but suffered himself to be led quietly away. Once clear of the stable the young man sprang on his back and galloped off, calling over his shoulder, ‘Hi! dragon! dragon! if anyone asks you what has become of your horse, you can say that I have got him!’But the king said, ‘The flying horse is all very well, but I want something more. You must bring me the covering with the little bells that lies on the bed of the dragon, or I will have you hewn into a thousand pieces.’‘Is that all?’ answered the youth. ‘That is easily done.’And when night came he went away to the dragon’s house and climbed up on to the roof. Then he opened a little window in the roof and let down the chain from which the kettle usually hung, and tried to hook the bed covering and to draw it up. But the little bells all began to ring, and the dragon woke and said to his wife, ‘Wife, you have pulled off all the bed-clothes!’ and drew the covering towards him, pulling, as he did so, the young man into the room. Then the dragon flung himself on the youth and bound him fast with cords saying as he tied the last knot, ‘To-morrow when I go to church you must stay at home and kill him and cook him, and when I get back we will eat him together.’So the following morning the dragoness took hold of the young man and reached down from the shelf a sharp knife with which to kill him. But as she untied the cords the better to get hold of him, the prisoner caught her by the legs, threw her to the ground, seized her and speedily cut her throat, just as she had been about to do for him, and put her body in the oven. Then he snatched up the covering and carried it to the king.The king was seated on his throne when the youth appeared before him and spread out the covering with a deep bow. ‘That is not enough,’ said his majesty; ‘you must bring me the dragon himself, or I will have you hewn into a thousand pieces.’‘It shall be done,’ answered the youth; ‘but you must give me two years to manage it, for my beard must grow so that he may not know me.’‘So be it,’ said the king.And the first thing the young man did when his beard was grown was to take the road to the dragon’s house and on the way he met a beggar, whom he persuaded to change clothes with him, and in the beggar’s garments he went fearlessly forth to the dragon.He found his enemy before his house, very busy making a box, and addressed him politely, ‘Good morning, your worship. Have you a morsel of bread?’‘You must wait,’ replied the dragon, ’till I have finished my box, and then I will see if I can find one.’‘What will you do with the box when it is made?’ inquired the beggar.‘It is for the young man who killed my wife, and stole my flying horse and my bed covering,’ said the dragon.‘He deserves nothing better,’ answered the beggar, ‘for it was an ill deed. Still that box is too small for him, for he is a big man.’‘You are wrong,’ said the dragon. ‘The box is large enough even for me.’‘Well, the rogue is nearly as tall as you,’ replied the beggar, ‘and, of course, if you can get in, he can. But I am sure you would find it a tight fit.’‘No, there is plenty of room,’ said the dragon, tucking himself carefully inside.But no sooner was he well in, than the young man clapped on the lid and called out, ‘Now press hard, just to see if he will be able to get out.’The dragon pressed as hard as he could, but the lid never moved.‘It is all right,’ he cried; ‘now you can open it.’But instead of opening it, the young man drove in long nails to make it tighter still; then he took the box on his back and brought it to the king. And when the king heard that the dragon was inside, he was so excited that he would not wait one moment, but broke the lock and lifted the lid just a little way to make sure he was really there. He was very careful not to leave enough space for the dragon to jump out, but unluckily there was just room for his great mouth, and with one snap the king vanished down his wide red jaws. Then the young man married the king’s daughter and ruled over the land, but what he did with the dragon nobody knows.
Jupiter issued a proclamation to all the beasts, and offered a prize to the one who, in his judgment, produced the most beautiful offspring. Among the rest came the Monkey, carrying a baby monkey in her arms, a hairless, flat-nosed little fright. When they saw it, the gods all burst into peal on peal of laughter; but the Monkey hugged her little one to her, and said, “Jupiter may give the prize to whomsoever he likes: but I shall always think my baby the most beautiful of them all.”
There was an oyster king far in the south who knew how to open oysters and pick out the pearls. He grew rich and all kinds of money came rolling in on him because he was a great oyster opener and knew how to pick out the pearls. The son of this oyster king was named Shovel Ears. And it was hard for him to remember. “He knows how to open oysters but he forgets to pick out the pearls,” said the father of ‘Shovel Ears. He is learning to remember worse and worse and to forget better and better,” said the father of Shovel Ears. Now in that same place far in the south was a little girl with two braids of hair twisted down her back and a face saying, “Here we come—where from?” And her mother called her Pig Wisps. Twice a week Pig Wisps ran to the butcher shop for a soup bone. Before starting she crossed her fingers and then the whole way to the butcher shop kept her fingers crossed. If she met any playmates and they asked her to stop and play crosstag or jackstones or all- around-the-mulberry-bush or the-green-grass- grew-all-around or drop-the-handkerchief, she told them, “My fingers are crossed and I am running to the butcher shop for a soup bone.” One morning running to the butcher shop she bumped into a big queer boy and bumped him flat on the sidewalk.Did you look where you were running?” she asked him. “I forgot again,” said Shovel Ears. “I remember worse and worse. I forget better and better.” “Cross your fingers like this,” said Pig Wisps, showing him how. He ran to the butcher shop with her, watching her keep her fingers crossed till the butcher gave her the soup bone. “After I get it then the soup bone reminds me to go home with it,” she told him. “But until I get the soup bone I keep my fingers crossed.” Shovel Ears went to his father and began helping his father open oysters. And Shovel Ears kept his fingers crossed to remind him to pick out the pearls. He picked a hundred buckets of pearls the first day and brought his father the longest slippery, shining rope of pearls ever seen in that oyster country.“How do you do it?” his father asked. “It is the crossed fingers—like this,” said Shovel Ears, crossing his fingers like the letter X. “This is the way to remember better and forget worse.” It was then the oyster king went and told the men who change the alphabets just what happened. When the men who change the alphabets heard just what happened, they decided to put in a new letter, the letter X, near the end of the alphabet, the sign of the crossed fingers. On the wedding day of Pig Wisps and Shovel Ears, the men who change the alphabets all came to the wedding, with their fingers crossed. Pig Wisps and Shovel Ears stood up to be married. They crossed their fingers. They told each other other they would remember their promises.And Pig Wisps had two ropes of pearls twisted down her back and a sweet young face saying, “Here we come—where from?”
Once upon a time there were a man and a woman, who had an only daughter. Now it happened that one of their sheep went astray, and they set out to look for it, and searched and searched, each in n different part of the wood. Then the good wife met a witch, who said to her:`If you spit, you miserable creature, if you spit into the sheath of my knife, or if you run between my legs, I shall change you into a black sheep.’The woman neither spat, nor did she run between her legs, but yet the witch changed her into a sheep. Then she made herself look exactly like the woman, and called out to the good man:`Ho, old man, halloa! I have found the sheep already!’The man thought the witch was really his wife, and he did not know that his wife was the sheep; so he went home with her, glad at heart because his sheep was found. When they were safe at home the witch said to the man:`Look here, old man, we must really kill that sheep lest it run away to the wood again.’The man, who was a peaceable quiet sort of fellow, made no objections, but simply said:`Good, let us do so.’The daughter, however, had overheard their talk, and she ran to the flock and lamented aloud:`Oh, dear little mother, they are going to slaughter you!’`Well, then, if they do slaughter me,’ was the black sheep’s answer, `eat you neither the meat nor the broth that is made of me, but gather all my bones, and bury them by the edge of the field.’Shortly after this they took the black sheep from the flock and slaughtered it. The witch made pease-soup of it, and set it before the daughter. But the girl remembered her mother’s warning. She did not touch the soup, but she carried the bones to the edge of the field and buried them there; and there sprang up on the spot a birch tree–a very lovely birch tree.Some time had passed away–who can tell how long they might have been living there?–when the witch, to whom a child had been born in the meantime, began to take an ill-will to the man’s daughter, and to torment her in all sorts of ways.Now it happened that a great festival was to be held at the palace, and the King had commanded that all the people should be invited, and that this proclamation should be made:`Come, people all! Poor and wretched, one and all! Blind and crippled though ye be, Mount your steeds or come by sea.’And so they drove into the King’s feast all the outcasts, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind. In the good man’s house, too, preparations were made to go to the palace. The witch said to the man:`Go you on in front, old man, with our youngest; I will give the elder girl work to keep her from being dull in our absence.’So the man took the child and set out. But the witch kindled a fire on the hearth, threw a potful of barleycorns among the cinders, and said to the girl:`If you have not picked the barley out of the ashes, and put it all back in the pot before nightfall, I shall eat you up!’Then she hastened after the others, and the poor girl stayed at home and wept. She tried to be sure to pick up the grains of barley, but she soon saw how useless her labour was; and so she went in her sore trouble to the birch tree on her mother’s grave, and cried and cried, because her mother lay dead beneath the sod and could help her no longer. In the midst of her grief she suddenly heard her mother’s voice speak from the grave, and say to her:`Why do you weep, little daughter?’`The witch has scattered barleycorns on the hearth, and bid me pick them out of the ashes,’ said the girl; `that is why I weep, dear little mother.’`Do not weep,’ said her mother consolingly. `Break off one of my branches, and strike the hearth with it crosswise, and all will be put right.’ The girl did so. She struck the hearth with the birchen branch, and lo! the barleycorns flew into the pot, and the hearth was clean. Then she went back to the birch tree and laid the branch upon the grave. Then her mother bade her bathe on one side of the stem, dry herself on another, and dress on the third. When the girl had done all that, she had grown so lovely that no one on earth could rival her. Splendid clothing was given to her, and a horse, with hair partly of gold, partly of silver, and partly of something more precious still. The girl sprang into the saddle, and rode as swift as an arrow to the palace. As she turned into the courtyard of the castle the King’s son came out to meet her, tied her steed to a pillar, and led her in. He never left her side as they passed through the castle rooms; and all the people gazed at her, and wondered who the lovely maiden was, and from what castle she came; but no one knew her–no one knew anything about her. At the banquet the Prince invited her to sit next him in the place of honour; but the witch’s daughter gnawed the bones under the table. The Prince did not see her, and thinking it was a dog, he gave her such a push with his foot that her arm was broken. Are you not sorry for the witch’s daughter? It was not her fault that her mother was a witch.Towards evening the good man’s daughter thought it was time to go home; but as she went, her ring caught on the latch of the door, for the King’s son had had it smeared with tar. She did not take time to pull it off, but, hastily unfastening her horse from the pillar, she rode away beyond the castle walls as swift as an arrow. Arrived at home, she took off her clothes by the birch tree, left her horse standing there, and hastened to her place behind the stove. In a short time the man and the woman came home again too, and the witch said to the girl:`Ah! you poor thing, there you are to be sure! You don’t know what fine times we have had at the palace! The King’s son carried my daughter about, but the poor thing fell and broke her arm.’The girl knew well how matters really stood, but she pretended to know nothing about it, and sat dumb behind the stove.The next day they were invited again to the King’s banquet.`Hey! old man,’ said the witch, `get on your clothes as quick as you can; we are bidden to the feast. Take you the child; I will give the other one work, lest she weary.’She kindled the fire, threw a potful of hemp seed among the ashes, and said to the girl:`If you do not get this sorted, and all the seed back into the pot, I shall kill you!’The girl wept bitterly; then she went to the birch tree, washed herself on one side of it and dried herself on the other; and this time still finer clothes were given to her, and a very beautiful steed. She broke off a branch of the birch tree, struck the hearth with it, so that the seeds flew into the pot, and then hastened to the castle.Again the King’s son came out to meet her, tied her horse to a pillar, and led her into the banqueting hall. At the feast the girl sat next him in the place of honour, as she had done the day before. But the witch’s daughter gnawed bones under the table, and the Prince gave her a push by mistake, which broke her leg–he had never noticed her crawling about among the people’s feet. She was VERY unlucky!The good man’s daughter hastened home again betimes, but the King’s son had smeared the door-posts with tar, and the girl’s golden circlet stuck to it. She had not time to look for it, but sprang to the saddle and rode like an arrow to the birch tree. There she left her horse and her fine clothes, and said to her mother:`I have lost my circlet at the castle; the door-post was tarred, and it stuck fast.’`And even had you lost two of them,’ answered her mother, `I would give you finer ones.’Then the girl hastened home, and when her father came home from the feast with the witch, she was in her usual place behind the stove. Then the witch said to her:`You poor thing! what is there to see here compared with what WE have seen at the palace? The King’s son carried my daughter from one room to another; he let her fall, ’tis true, and my child’s foot was broken.’The man’s daughter held her peace all the time, and busied herself about the hearth.The night passed, and when the day began to dawn, the witch awakened her husband, crying:`Hi! get up, old man! We are bidden to the royal banquet.’So the old man got up. Then the witch gave him the child, saying:`Take you the little one; I will give the other girl work to do, else she will weary at home alone.’She did as usual. This time it was a dish of milk she poured upon the ashes, saying:`If you do not get all the milk into the dish again before I come home, you will suffer for it.’How frightened the girl was this time! She ran to the birch tree, and by its magic power her task was accomplished; and then she rode away to the palace as before. When she got to the courtyard she found the Prince waiting for her. He led her into the hall, where she was highly honoured; but the witch’s daughter sucked the bones under the table, and crouching at the people’s feet she got an eye knocked out, poor thing! Now no one knew any more than before about the good man’s daughter, no one knew whence she came; but the Prince had had the threshold smeared with tar, and as she fled her gold slippers stuck to it. She reached the birch tree, and laying aside her finery, she said:`Alas I dear little mother, I have lost my gold slippers!’`Let them be,’ was her mother’s reply; `if you need them I shall give you finer ones.’Scarcely was she in her usual place behind the stove when her father came home with the witch. Immediately the witch began to mock her, saying:`Ah! you poor thing, there is nothing for you to see here, and WE–ah: what great things we have seen at the palace! My little girl was carried about again, but had the ill-luck to fall and get her eye knocked out. You stupid thing, you, what do you know about anything?’`Yes, indeed, what can I know?’ replied the girl; `I had enough to do to get the hearth clean.’Now the Prince had kept all the things the girl had lost, and he soon set about finding the owner of them. For this purpose a great banquet was given on the fourth day, and all the people were invited to the palace. The witch got ready to go too. She tied a wooden beetle on where her child’s foot should have been, a log of wood instead of an arm, and stuck a bit of dirt in the empty socket for an eye, and took the child with her to the castle. When all the people were gathered together, the King’s son stepped in among the crowd and cried:`The maiden whose finger this ring slips over, whose head this golden hoop encircles, and whose foot this shoe fits, shall be my bride.’What a great trying on there was now among them all! The things would fit no one, however.`The cinder wench is not here,’ said the Prince at last; `go and fetch her, and let her try on the things.’So the girl was fetched, and the Prince was just going to hand the ornaments to her, when the witch held him back, saying:`Don’t give them to her; she soils everything with cinders; give them to my daughter rather.’Well, then the Prince gave the witch’s daughter the ring, and the woman filed and pared away at her daughter’s finger till the ring fitted. It was the same with the circlet and the shoes of gold. The witch would not allow them to be handed to the cinder wench; she worked at her own daughter’s head and feet till she got the things forced on. What was to be done now? The Prince had to take the witch’s daughter for his bride whether he would or no; he sneaked away to her father’s house with her, however, for he was ashamed to hold the wedding festivities at the palace with so strange a bride. Some days passed, and at last he had to take his bride home to the palace, and he got ready to do so. Just as they were taking leave, the kitchen wench sprang down from her place by the stove, on the pretext of fetching something from the cowhouse, and in going by she whispered in the Prince’s ear as he stood in the yard:`Alas! dear Prince, do not rob me of my silver and my gold.’Thereupon the King’s son recognised the cinder wench; so he took both the girls with him, and set out. After they had gone some little way they came to the bank of a river, and the Prince threw the witch’s daughter across to serve as a bridge, and so got over with the cinder wench. There lay the witch’s daughter then, like a bridge over the river, and could not stir, though her heart was consumed with grief. No help was near, so she cried at last in her anguish:`May there grow a golden hemlock out of my body! perhaps my mother will know me by that token.’Scarcely had she spoken when a golden hemlock sprang up from her, and stood upon the bridge.Now, as soon as the Prince had got rid of the witch’s daughter he greeted the cinder wench as his bride, and they wandered together to the birch tree which grew upon the mother’s grave. There they received all sorts of treasures and riches, three sacks full of gold, and as much silver, and a splendid steed, which bore them home to the palace. There they lived a long time together, and the young wife bore a son to the Prince. Immediately word was brought to the witch that her daughter had borne a son–for they all believed the young King’s wife to be the witch’s daughter.`So, so,’ said the witch to herself; `I had better away with my gift for the infant, then.’And so saying she set out. Thus it happened that she came to the bank of the river, and there she saw the beautiful golden hemlock growing in the middle of the bridge, and when she began to cut it down to take to her grandchild, she heard a voice moaning:`Alas! dear mother, do not cut me so!’`Are you here?’ demanded the witch.`Indeed I am, dear little mother,’ answered the daughter `They threw me across the river to make a bridge of me.’In a moment the witch had the bridge shivered to atoms, and then she hastened away to the palace. Stepping up to the young Queen’s bed, she began to try her magic arts upon her, saying:`Spit, you wretch, on the blade of my knife; bewitch my knife’s blade for me, and I shall change you into a reindeer of the forest.’`Are you there again to bring trouble upon me?’ said the young woman.She neither spat nor did anything else, but still the witch changed her into a reindeer, and smuggled her own daughter into her place as the Prince’s wife. But now the child grew restless and cried, because it missed its mother’s care. They took it to the court, and tried to pacify it in every conceivable way, but its crying never ceased.`What makes the child so restless?’ asked the Prince, and he went to a wise widow woman to ask her advice.`Ay, ay, your own wife is not at home,’ said the widow woman; `she is living like a reindeer in the wood; you have the witch’s daughter for a wife now, and the witch herself for a mother-in- law.’`Is there any way of getting my own wife back from the wood again?’ asked the Prince.`Give me the child,’ answered the widow woman. `I’ll take it with me to-morrow when I go to drive the cows to the wood. I’ll make a rustling among the birch leaves and a trembling among the aspens–perhaps the boy will grow quiet when he hears it.’`Yes, take the child away, take it to the wood with you to quiet it,’ said the Prince, and led the widow woman into the castle.`How now? you are going to send the child away to the wood?’ said the witch in a suspicious tone, and tried to interfere.But the King’s son stood firm by what he had commanded, and said:`Carry the child about the wood; perhaps that will pacify it.’So the widow woman took the child to the wood. She came to the edge of a marsh, and seeing a herd of reindeer there, she began all at once to sing–`Little Bright-eyes, little Redskin, Come nurse the child you bore! That bloodthirsty monster, That man-eater grim, Shall nurse him, shall tend him no more. They may threaten and force as they will, He turns from her, shrinks from her still,’and immediately the reindeer drew near, and nursed and tended the child the whole day long; but at nightfall it had to follow the herd, and said to the widow woman:`Bring me the child to-morrow, and again the following day; after that I must wander with the herd far away to other lands.’The following morning the widow woman went back to the castle to fetch the child. The witch interfered, of course, but the Prince said:`Take it, and carry it about in the open air; the boy is quieter at night, to be sure, when he has been in the wood all day.’So the widow took the child in her arms, and carried it to the marsh in the forest. There she sang as on the preceding day–`Little Bright-eyes, little Redskin, Come nurse the child you bore! That bloodthirsty monster, That man-eater grim, Shall nurse him, shall tend him no more. They may threaten and force as they will, He turns from her, shrinks from her still,’and immediately the reindeer left the herd and came to the child, and tended it as on the day before. And so it was that the child throve, till not a finer boy was to be seen anywhere. But the King’s son had been pondering over all these things, and he said to the widow woman:`Is there no way of changing the reindeer into a human being again?’`I don’t rightly know,’ was her answer. `Come to the wood with me, however; when the woman puts off her reindeer skin I shall comb her head for her; whilst I am doing so you must burn the skin.’Thereupon they both went to the wood with the child; scarcely were they there when the reindeer appeared and nursed the child as before. Then the widow woman said to the reindeer:`Since you are going far away to-morrow, and I shall not see you again, let me comb your head for the last time, as a remembrance of you.’Good; the young woman stript off the reindeer skin, and let the widow woman do as she wished. In the meantime the King’s son threw the reindeer skin into the fire unobserved.`What smells of singeing here?’ asked the young woman, and looking round she saw her own husband. `Woe is me! you have burnt my skin. Why did you do that?’`To give you back your human form again.’`Alack-a-day! I have nothing to cover me now, poor creature that I am!’ cried the young woman, and transformed herself first into a distaff, then into a wooden beetle, then into a spindle, and into all imaginable shapes. But all these shapes the King’s son went on destroying till she stood before him in human form again.Alas! wherefore take me home with you again,’ cried the young woman, `since the witch is sure to eat me up?’`She will not eat you up,’ answered her husband; and they started for home with the child.But when the witch wife saw them she ran away with her daughter, and if she has not stopped she is running still, though at a great age. And the Prince, and his wife, and the baby lived happy ever afterwards.
Mother Crewe was of evil repute in Plymouth in the last century. It was said that she had taken pay for luring a girl into her old farm-house, where a man lay dead of small-pox, with intent to harm her beauty; she was accused of blighting land and driving ships ashore with spells; in brief, she was called a witch, and people, even those who affected to ignore the craft of wizardry, were content to keep away from her. When the Revolution ended, Southward Howland demanded Dame Crewe’s house and acre, claiming under law of entail, though primogeniture had been little enforced in America, where there was room and to spare for all. But Howland was stubborn and the woman’s house had good situation, so one day he rode to her door and summoned her with a tap of his whip.“What do you here on my land?” said he.“I live on land that is my own. I cleared it, built my house here, and no other has claim to it.”“Then I lay claim. The place is mine. I shall tear your cabin down onFriday.”“On Friday they’ll dig your grave on Burying Hill. I see the shadow closing round you. You draw it in with every breath. Quick! Home and make your peace!” The hag’s withered face was touched with spots of red and her eyes glared in their sunken sockets.“Bandy no witch words with me, woman. On Friday I will return.” And he swung himself into his saddle. As he did so a black cat leaped on Mother Crewe’s shoulder and stood there, squalling. The woman listened to its cries as if they were words. Her look of hate deepened. Raising her hand, she cried, “Your day is near its end. Repent!”“Bah! You have heard what I have said. If on Friday you are not elsewhere, I’ll tear the timbers down and bury you in the ruins.”“Enough!” cried the woman, her form straightening, her voice grown shrill. “My curse is on you here and hereafter. Die! Then go down to hell!”As she said this the cat leaped from her shoulder to the flank of the horse, spitting and clawing, and the frightened steed set off at a furious pace. As he disappeared in the scrub oaks his master was seen vainly trying to stop him. The evening closed in with fog and chill, and before the light waned a man faring homeward came upon the corpse of Southward Howland stretched along the ground.
An iron pot proposedTo an earthen pot a journey.The latter was opposed,Expressing the concern heHad felt about the dangerOf going out a ranger.He thought the kitchen hearthThe safest place on earthFor one so very brittle.“For thee, who art a kettle,And hast a tougher skin,There’s nought to keep thee in.”“I’ll be thy body-guard,”Replied the iron pot;“If anything that’s hardShould threaten thee a jot,Between you I will go,And save thee from the blow.”This offer him persuaded.The iron pot paradedHimself as guard and guideClose at his cousin’s side.Now, in their tripod way,They hobble as they may;And eke together boltAt every little jolt,—Which gives the crockery pain;But presently his comrade hitsSo hard, he dashes him to bits,Before he can complain.Take care that you associateWith equals only, lest your fateBetween these pots should find its mate.
Once upon a time there lived at Laguna a lazy, kind-hearted boy. He lived alone with his grandmother. Every day she begged him to go help the other boys cut wood or work in the corn fields; but the boy would not go. So he did not have the good things that the other boys had who worked. Instead he was always poor and ragged; but he was always generous with what he had.One day as he was idly walking outside the village, he saw a pig.“Please scratch my back for me, Boy,” asked the pig. “I have begged everyone who passed and no one will scratch it for me.” And the boy scratched the pig’s back for a long time.The next day he scratched the pig’s back again, but he did not seem happy.“Why are you so sad, Boy?” asked the pig.“I am sad,” replied the boy, “because today is the Sia feast day, and I want very much to go to the dance; but I have no way to go.”“Take that whip lying there,” said the pig, “and strike me across the back.”“Oh, I cannot do that!” said the boy; but the pig insisted, so the boy took the whip and struck the pig across the back. Immediately a fine horse appeared, and the boy’s ragged clothes changed into a new beaded buckskin suit. He mounted the horse and rode happily away to Sia.When he returned home that night his grandmother asked, “Where have you been all day today, my grandson?”“I have been to Sia to the feast,” he said.“That cannot be true for you had no way to go,” replied his grandmother, and so she did not believe that he had gone. She grieved because she thought her grandson was not truthful.Four days later when the boy was with the pig, the pig asked him again, “why are you so sad today, Boy?”“I am sad because I fell in love with the Chief’s pretty daughter at Sia, and I am too poor to ask her to marry me.”Again the pig told him, “Take that whip and strike me across the back with it.”The boy did as he was told; and this time two fine horses appeared and the boy’s clothes were once more changed into fine new buckskins. He mounted one of the horses and led the other horse over to Sia.He went straightway to the Chief’s house and asked him for his daughter. The boy looked so fine and had such good horses, that the Chief told him at once that he might have his daughter. The daughter was willing to go, too, so they rode back to Laguna.When they reached there the pig had disappeared; and in the place where he had been a house, with cattle outside and with blankets inside, awaited the boy and his bride.
Ingratitude is a nail, which, driven into the tree of courtesy, causes it to wither. It is a broken channel by which the foundations of affection are undermined; and a lump of soot, which, falling into the dish of friendship, destroys its scent and savour—as is seen in daily instances, and, amongst others, in the story which I will now tell you.There was one time in my dear city of Naples an old man who was as poor as poor could be. He was so wretched, so bare, so light, and with not a farthing in his pocket, that he went naked as a flea. And being about to shake out the bags of life, he called to him his sons, Oratiello and Pippo, and said to them, “I am now called upon by the tenor of my bill to pay the debt I owe to Nature. Believe me, I should feel great pleasure in quitting this abode of misery, this den of woes, but that I leave you here behind me—a pair of miserable fellows, as big as a church, without a stitch upon your backs, as clean as a barber’s basin, as nimble as a serjeant, as dry as a plum-stone, without so much as a fly can carry upon its foot; so that, were you to run a hundred miles, not a farthing would drop from you. My ill-fortune has indeed brought me to such beggary that I lead the life of a dog, for I have all along, as well you know, gaped with hunger and gone to bed without a candle. Nevertheless, now that I am a-dying, I wish to leave you some token of my love. So do you, Oratiello, who are my first-born, take the sieve that hangs yonder against the wall, with which you can earn your bread; and do you, little fellow, take the cat and remember your daddy!” So saying, he began to whimper; and presently after said, “God be with you—for it is night!”Oratiello had his father buried by charity; and then took the sieve and went riddling here, there, and everywhere to gain a livelihood; and the more he riddled, the more he earned. But Pippo, taking the cat, said, “Only see now what a pretty legacy my father has left me! I, who am not able to support myself, must now provide for two. Whoever beheld so miserable an inheritance?” Then the cat, who overheard this lamentation, said to him, “You are grieving without need, and have more luck than sense. You little know the good fortune in store for you; and that I am able to make you rich if I set about it.” When Pippo had heard this, he thanked Her Pussyship, stroked her three or four times on the back, and commended himself warmly to her. So the cat took compassion on poor Pippo; and, every morning, when the Sun, with the bait of light on his golden hook, fishes for the shakes of Night, she betook herself to the shore, and catching a goodly grey mullet or a fine dory, she carried it to the King and said, “My Lord Pippo, your Majesty’s most humble slave, sends you this fish with all reverence, and says, A small present to a great lord.'” Then the King, with a joyful face, as one usually shows to those who bring a gift, answered the cat, “Tell this lord, whom I do not know, that I thank him heartily.”Again, the cat would run to the marshes or the fields, and when the fowlers had brought down a blackbird, a snipe, or a lark, she caught it up and presented it to the King with the same message. She repeated this trick again and again, until one morning the King said to her, “I feel infinitely obliged to this Lord Pippo, and am desirous of knowing him, that I may make a return for the kindness he has shown me.” And the cat replied, “The desire of my Lord Pippo is to give his life for your Majesty’s crown; and tomorrow morning, without fail, as soon as the Sun has set fire to the stubble of the fields of air, he will come and pay his respects to you.”So when the morning came, the cat went to the King, and said to him: “Sire, my Lord Pippo sends to excuse himself for not coming, as last night some of his servants robbed him and ran off, and have not left him a single shirt to his back.” When the King heard this, he instantly commanded his retainers to take out of his own wardrobe a quantity of clothes and linen, and sent them to Pippo; and, before two hours had passed, Pippo went to the palace, conducted by the cat, where he received a thousand compliments from the King, who made him sit beside himself, and gave him a banquet that would amaze you.While they were eating, Pippo from time to time turned to the cat and said to her, “My pretty puss, pray take care that those rags don’t slip through our fingers.” Then the cat answered, “Be quiet, be quiet; don’t be talking of these beggarly things.” The King, wishing to know the subject of their talk, the cat made answer that Pippo had taken a fancy to a small lemon; whereupon the King instantly sent out to the garden for a basketful. But Pippo returned to the same tune about the old coats and shirts, and the cat again told him to hold his tongue. Then the King once more asked what was the matter, and the cat had another excuse to make amends for Pippo’s rudeness.At last, when they had eaten and conversed for some time about one thing and another, Pippo took his leave; and the cat stayed with the King, describing the worth, the wisdom, and the judgment of Pippo; and, above all, the great wealth he had in the plains of Rome and Lombardy, which well entitled him to marry even into the family of a crowned King. Then the King asked what might be his fortune; and the cat replied that no one could ever count the moveables, the fixtures, and the household furniture of this rich man, who did not even know what he possessed. If the King wished to be informed of it, he had only to send messengers with the cat, and she would prove to him that there was no wealth in the world equal to his.Then the King called some trusty persons, and commanded them to inform themselves minutely of the truth; so they followed in the footsteps of the cat, who, as soon as they had passed the frontier of the kingdom, from time to time ran on before, under the pretext of providing refreshments for them on the road. Whenever she met a flock of sheep, a herd of cows, a troop of horses, or a drove of pigs, she would say to the herdsmen and keepers, “Ho! have a care! A troop of robbers is coming to carry off everything in the country. So if you wish to escape their fury, and to have your things respected, say that they all belong to the Lord Pippo, and not a hair will be touched.”She said the same at all the farmhouses, so that wherever the King’s people came they found the pipe tuned; for everything they met with, they were told, belonged to the Lord Pippo. At last they were tired of asking, and returned to the King, telling seas and mountains of the riches of Lord Pippo. The King, hearing this report, promised the cat a good drink if she should manage to bring about the match; and the cat, playing the shuttle between them, at last concluded the marriage. So Pippo came, and the King gave him his daughter and a large portion.At the end of a month of festivities, Pippo wished to take his bride to his estates, so the King accompanied them as far as the frontiers; and he went on to Lombardy, where, by the cat’s advice, he purchased a large estate and became a baron.Pippo, seeing himself now so rich, thanked the cat more than words can express, saying that he owed his life and his greatness to her good offices; and that the ingenuity of a cat had done more for him that the wit of his father. Therefore, said he, she might dispose of his life and his property as she pleased; and he gave her his word that when she died, which he prayed might not be for a hundred years, he would have her embalmed and put into a golden coffin, and set in his own chamber, that he might keep her memory always before his eyes.The cat listened to these lavish professions; and before three days she pretended to be dead, and stretched herself at full length in the garden. When Pippo’s wife saw her, she cried out, “Oh, husband, what a sad misfortune! The cat is dead!” “Devil die with her!” said Pippo. “Better her than we!” “What shall we do with her?” replied the wife. “Take her by the leg,” said he, “and fling her out of the window!”Then the cat, who heard this fine reward when she least expected it, began to say, “Is this the return you make for my taking you from beggary? Are these the thanks I get for freeing you from rags that you might have hung distaffs with? Is this my reward for having put good clothes on your back when you were a poor, starved, miserable, tatter-shod ragamuffin? But such is the fate of him who washes an ass’s head! Go! A curse upon all I have done for you! A fine gold coffin you had prepared for me! A fine funeral you were going to give me! Go, now! serve, labour, toil, sweat to get this fine reward! Unhappy is he who does a good deed in hope of a return. Well was it said by the philosopher, He who lies down an ass, an ass he finds himself.’ But let him who does most, expect least; smooth words and ill deeds deceive alike both fools and wise!”So saying, she drew her cloak about her and went her way. All that Pippo, with the utmost humility, could do to soothe her was of no avail. She would not return; but ran on and on without ever turning her head about, saying—“Heaven keep me from the rich grown poor,And from the beggar who of wealth gains store.”
There was a wealthy, a very wealthy proprietor; he had buildings enough; there was where and wherewith for every purpose. Once upon a time he had guests at his house, and said to them: ‘If my buildings were to be burnt down, I should know where and how to rebuild them.’ He said, and it came to pass. While he was conversing thus with his guests, somebody went out into the courtyard, but returned still quicker and said: ‘You’re on fire!’ But the proprietor said: ‘Never mind; I wish it to be so.’ He neither attempted to extinguish the fire himself nor allowed others to do so, and thus all was reduced to ashes; only the site was left. But he didn’t trouble himself a bit, but went and lived by the waterside, and kept his money in a willow-tree, being thus a source of danger to himself. Unexpectedly a heavy rain fell, and before he could look about him the water had already undermined the willow and carried it away. He then became poor, so that it became his lot to serve others. He was obliged to carry letters for gentlemen.Well, it came to pass once that he was going with a letter, and night overtook him on the way; what was he now to do? He begged a night’s lodging at a certain man’s house; this man was rich and kindly, so he said: ‘Good! you shall not pass my house.’ Meanwhile the mistress prepared supper, and after supping they prayed to God, but before they lay down to sleep they conversed together about this and that. The traveller began to relate how he had himself been wealthy, how he had been burnt out, and had come to poverty. ‘I had,’ said he, ‘still a little money, and kept it in a willow-tree, but great floods came, undermined the willow, and carried my money away with the water! Thus I remained with nothing, and now it has been my lot more than once to beg for bread.’Scarcely had his host heard this when he looked at his wife, for the willow had floated to shore under their barn, and when they began to cut it up, the money tumbled out a little at a time. They both went out into a room, and began to consult how to return the money to him without his knowing whence it came. They consulted. Then said the host: ‘Well, what shall we do? Let us cut off the under part of a loaf; take out the crumb, put the money inside, then cover it again with the crust; and when he is on the point of departing let us give it him, as if it were provision for his journey.’ And so they did. The next day when he was starting to proceed on his way, they gave him the loaf of bread, and said: ‘Here’s for you; it will be of use on the road.’ He took it, made his bow, and went on his way. On the road there met him some merchants–pardon me, some drovers–purchasing swine, who had formerly visited him more than once, and they asked him: ‘Of course you know what we’re after?’ and he replied: ‘Formerly it was at my house; misfortune has come upon me; I’ve been burnt out, and now I serve others.’ When he had spoken these words he all at once gave his knapsack a tap, and said: ‘Come! buy some bread.’ (He took it out.) ‘Somehow I’m not hungry, and it’s heavy to carry; some money would be more advantageous on my journey.’ Bargain and sale. They came to an agreement. The merchants took the bread and he the money, and they parted.The merchants came to that very same village, and went to the house of that very same proprietor, from whom the bread came, and began to make inquiries of him respecting their business. ‘Not I, but God!’ said he; ‘sit down, meanwhile, and rest;’ and he sent for a snack for them. But they said to him that he needn’t trouble himself. ‘On the road we bought a loaf of excellent bread from a man who was going with a letter.’ They (the host and his wife) felt a quaking at the heart; they had a suspicion; but the merchants soon took it out and placed it on the table, the very same loaf, which they had given to the traveller. The proprietor looked at his wife, and said to their guests: ‘Before anything is done, let us go and have a look round; maybe you will make a purchase.’ ‘Let us go and they went out of the house, but he winked to his wife, and she knew at once what he wanted. When they went out on their business, the mistress brought out another loaf and placed it on the table, but removed the first one. They returned, breakfasted, either did or didn’t come to terms, and went away.After some time the man came again with a letter, and turned in again at the proprietor’s, just as at an old acquaintance’s, for the night. They received him and were glad, for they thought they might now be successful in returning the money somehow or other. They waited; they passed the night, and when he had gone out of the house, they wrapped the money in a cloth, put it in his knapsack, gave him breakfast, and dismissed him, He went off, and as he went by a footpath through the orchard, he bethought himself: ‘Ah! what beautiful apples! Come! let me pluck a few for my journey.’ He took off his knapsack and hung it on a tree, that it mightn’t embarrass him, and began himself to reach after the apples. Just then up came his host, the proprietor. He saw him, and took flight so much the quicker, leaving his knapsack on the tree.The proprietor espied the knapsack hanging on a branch, began to think, and afterwards also said: ‘The poor fellow was frightened, and has forgotten his knapsack.’ He took down the knapsack, and said: ‘His road goes to the foot-bridge; he ran away through the bushes that he mightn’t see me. I’ll put it on the bridge, and then he’ll be sure to take it up.’ Even so he did. He ran round sideways, placed the money on the bridge, and went himself behind a bush not very far off, to keep a look-out and see what would happen.Suddenly the traveller came up to the bridge, and looking downwards thought, and afterwards said: ‘It’s good that I still have some sight, at any rate, and can go on my way and earn something to get my bread. What should I do if I were to go blind? How should I get across this bridge? Come, I’ll see whether I could do it successfully.’ Then, closing his eyes, tap, tap, with his stick over the bridge, he went straight forwards, stepped over the money, and went his way. The proprietor, recovering from his astonishment, said aloud: ‘He has angered God!’
Blixie Bimber’s mother was chopping hash. And the hatchet broke. So Blixie started downtown with fifteen cents to buy a new hash hatchet for chopping hash. Downtown she peeped around the corner next nearest the post office where the Potato Face Blind Man sat with his accordion. And the old man had his legs crossed, one foot on the sidewalk, the other foot up in the air.The foot up in the air had a green rat sitting on it, tying the old man’s shoestrings in knots and double knots. Whenever the old man’s foot wiggled and wriggled the green rat wiggled and wriggled. The tail of the rat wrapped five wraps around the shoe and then fastened and tied like a package. On the back of the green rat was a long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of the tail. Two little white swipes stuck up over the eyelashes. And five short thick swipes of white played pussy-wants-a-corner back of the ears and along the ribs of the green rat. They were talking, the old man and the green rat, talking about alligators and why the alligators keep their baby shoes locked up in trunks over the winter time—and why the rats in the moon lock their mittens in ice boxes.“I had the rheumatism last summer a year ago. I had the rheumatism so bad I ran a thousand miles south and west till I came to the Egg Towns and stopped in the Village of Eggs Up.”“So?” quizzed the Potato Face. “There in the Village of Eggs Up, they asked me, ‘Do you know how to stop the moon moving?’ I answered them, Tes, I know how—a baby alligator told me—but I told the baby alligator I wouldn’t tell.’ “Many years ago there in that Village of Eggs Up they started making a skyscraper to go up till it reached the moon. They said, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’ ”The bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers went higher and higher making that skyscraper, till at last they were half way up to the moon, saying to each other while they  and worked, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’ “Yes, they were halfway up to the moon. And that night looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving/ and they said later, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’ ”And the bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the wheelbarrowers and the plasterers said to each other, ‘If we go on now and make this skyscraper it will miss the moon and we will never go up in the elevator and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’So they took the skyscraper down and started making it over again, aiming it straight at the moon again. And one night standing looking at the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the moon moving,’ saying later to each other, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon moving.’And now they stand in the streets at night there in the Village of Eggs Up, stretching their necks looking at the moon, and asking each other, ‘Why does the moon move and how can we stop the moon moving?’“Whenever I saw them standing there stretching their necks looking at the moon, I had a zig-zag ache in my left hind foot and I wanted to tell them what the baby alligator told me, the secret of how to stop the moon moving. One night that ache zig-zagged me so—way inside my left hind foot—it zig- zagged so I ran home here a thousand miles.”The Potato Face Blind Man wriggled his shoe—and the green rat wriggled—and the long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of the tail of the green rat wriggled. “Is your rheumatism better?” the old man asked.The rat answered, “Any rheumatism is better if you run a thousand miles twice.”And Blixie Bimber going home with the fifteen cent hash hatchet for her mother to chop hash, Blixie said to herself, “It is a large morning to be thoughtful about.”
So they fled away in haste to the westward; but Aietes manned his fleet and followed them. And Lynceus the quick-eyed saw him coming, while he was still many a mile away, and cried, “I see a hundred ships, like a flock of white swans, far in the east.” And at that they rowed hard, like heroes; but the ships came nearer every hour.Then Medeia, the dark witch-maiden, laid a cruel and a cunning plot; for she killed Absyrtus her young brother, and cast him into the sea, and said, “Ere my father can take up his corpse and bury it, he must wait long, and be left far behind.”And all the heroes shuddered, and looked one at the other for shame; yet they did not punish that dark witch-woman, because she had won for them the golden fleece.And when Aietes came to the place, he saw the floating corpse; and he stopped a long while, and bewailed his son, and took him up, and went home. But he sent on his sailors toward the westward, and bound them by a mighty curse: “Bring back to me that dark witch-woman, that she may die a dreadful death. But if you return without her, you shall die by the same death yourselves.”So the Argonauts escaped for that time: but Father Zeus saw that foul crime; and out of the heavens he sent a storm, and swept the ship far from her course. Day after day the storm drove her, amid foam and blinding mist, till they knew no longer where they were, for the sun was blotted from the skies. And at last the ship struck on a shoal, amid low isles of mud and sand, and the waves rolled over her and through her, and the heroes lost all hope of life.Then Jason cried to Hera: “Fair queen, who hast befriended us till now, why hast thou left us in our misery, to die here among unknown seas? It is hard to lose the honour which we have won with such toil and danger, and hard never to see Hellas again, and the pleasant bay of Pagasai.”Then out and spoke the magic bough which stood upon the Argo’s beak: “Because Father Zeus is angry, all this has fallen on you; for a cruel crime has been done on board, and the sacred ship is foul with blood.”At that some of the heroes cried: “Medeia is the murderess. Let the witch-woman bear her sin, and die!” And they seized Medeia, to hurl her into the sea and atone for the young boy’s death: but the magic bough spoke again: “Let her live till her crimes are full. Vengeance waits for her, slow and sure; but she must live, for you need her still. She must show you the way to her sister Circe, who lives among the islands of the West. To her you must sail, a weary way, and she shall cleanse you from your guilt.”Then all the heroes wept aloud when they heard the sentence of the oak; for they knew that a dark journey lay before them, and years of bitter toil. And some upbraided the dark witch-woman, and some said, “Nay, we are her debtors still; without her we should never have won the fleece.” But most of them bit their lips in silence, for they feared the witch’s spells.And now the sea grew calmer, and the sun shone out once more, and the heroes thrust the ship off the sand-bank, and rowed forward on their weary course under the guiding of the dark witch-maiden, into the wastes of the unknown sea.Whither they went I cannot tell, nor how they came to Circe’s isle. Some say that they went to the westward, and up the Ister stream, and so came into the Adriatic, dragging their ship over the snowy Alps. And others say that they went southward, into the Red Indian Sea, and past the sunny lands where spices grow, round Æthiopia toward the West; and that at last they came to Libya, and dragged their ship across the burning sands, and over the hills into the Syrtes, where the flats and quicksands spread for many a mile, between rich Cyrene and the Lotus-eaters’ shore. But all these are but dreams and fables, and dim hints of unknown lands.But all say that they came to a place where they had to drag their ship across the land nine days with ropes and rollers, till they came into an unknown sea. And the best of all the old songs tells us how they went away toward the North, till they came to the slope of Caucasus, where it sinks into the sea; and to the narrow Cimmerian Bosphorus, where the Titan swam across upon the bull; and thence into the lazy waters of the still Mæotid lake. And thence they went northward ever, up the Tanais, which we call Don, past the Geloni and Sauromatai, and many a wandering shepherd-tribe, and the one-eyed Arimaspi, of whom old Greek poets tell, who steal the gold from the Griffins, in the cold Rhiphaian hills.And they passed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men, and the wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole-star, until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea. And there Argo would move on no longer; and each man clasped his elbow, and leaned his head upon his hand, heart-broken with toil and hunger, and gave himself up to death. But brave Ancaios the helmsman cheered up their hearts once more, and bade them leap on land, and haul the ship with ropes and rollers for many a weary day, whether over land, or mud, or ice, I know not, for the song is mixed and broken like a dream. And it says next, how they came to the rich nation of the famous long-lived men; and to the coast of the Cimmerians, who never saw the sun, buried deep in the glens of the snow mountains; and to the fair land of Hermione, where dwelt the most righteous of all nations; and to the gates of the world below, and to the dwelling-place of dreams.And at last Ancaios shouted—”Endure a little while, brave friends, the worst is surely past; for I can see the pure west wind ruffle the water, and hear the roar of ocean on the sands. So raise up the mast, and set the sail, and face what comes like men.”Then out spoke the magic bough—”Ah, would that I had perished long ago, and been whelmed by the dread blue rocks, beneath the fierce swell of the Euxine? Better so, than to wander for ever, disgraced by the guilt of my princes; for the blood of Absyrtus still tracks me, and woe follows hard upon woe. And now some dark horror will clutch me, if I come near the Isle of Ierne. Unless you will cling to the land, and sail southward and southward forever, I shall wander beyond the Atlantic, to the ocean which has no shore.”Then they blest the magic bough, and sailed southward along the land. But ere they could pass Ierne, the land of mists and storms, the wild wind came down, dark and roaring, and caught the sail, and strained the ropes. And away they drove twelve nights, on the wide wild western sea, through the foam, and over the rollers, while they saw neither sun nor stars. And they cried again, “We shall perish, for we know not where we are. We are lost in the dreary damp darkness, and cannot tell north from south.”But Lynceus the long-sighted called gayly from the bows—”Take heart again, brave sailors; for I see a pine-clad isle, and the halls of the kind Earth-mother, with a crown of clouds around them.”But Orpheus said, “Turn from them, for no living man can land there: there is no harbour on the coast, but steep-walled cliffs all round.”So Ancaios turned the ship away; and for three days more they sailed on, till they came to Aiaia, Circe’s home, and the fairy island of the West.And there Jason bid them land, and seek about for any sign of living man. And as they went inland, Circe met them, coming down toward the ship; and they trembled when they saw her; for her hair, and face, and robes shone like flame.And she came and looked at Medeia; and Medeia hid her face beneath her veil.And Circe cried, “Ah, wretched girl, have you forgotten all your sins, that you come hither to my island, where the flowers bloom all the year round? Where is your aged father, and the brother whom you killed? Little do I expect you to return in safety with these strangers whom you love. I will send you food and wine: but your ship must not stay here, for it is foul with sin, and foul with sin its crew.”And the heroes prayed her, but in vain, and cried, “Cleanse us from our guilt!” But she sent them away, and said, “Go on to Malea, and there you may be cleansed, and return home.”Then a fair wind rose, and they sailed eastward, by Tartessus on the Iberian shore, till they came to the Pillars of Hercules, and the Mediterranean Sea. And thence they sailed on through the deeps of Sardinia, and past the Ausonian islands, and the capes of the Tyrrhenian shore, till they came to a flowery island, upon a still bright summer’s eve. And as they neared it, slowly and wearily, they heard sweet songs upon the shore. But when Medeia heard it, she started, and cried, “Beware, all heroes, for these are the rocks of the Sirens. You must pass close by them, for there is no other channel; but those who listen to that song are lost.”Then Orpheus spoke, the king of all minstrels—”Let them match their song against mine. I have charmed stones, and trees, and dragons, how much more the hearts of men!” So he caught up his lyre, and stood upon the poop, and began his magic song.And now they could see the Sirens, on Anthemousa, the flowery isle; three fair maidens sitting on the beach, beneath a red rock in the setting sun, among beds of crimson poppies and golden asphodel. Slowly they sung and sleepily, with silver voices, mild and clear, which stole over the golden waters, and into the hearts of all the heroes, in spite of Orpheus’s song.And all things stayed around and listened; the gulls sat in white lines along the rocks; on the beach great seals lay basking, and kept time with lazy heads; while silver shoals of fish came up to hearken, and whispered as they broke the shining calm. The Wind overhead hushed his whistling, as he shepherded his clouds toward the west; and the clouds stood in mid blue, and listened dreaming, like a flock of golden sheep.And as the heroes listened, the oars fell from their hands, and their heads drooped on their breasts, and they closed their heavy eyes; and they dreamed of bright still gardens, and of slumbers under murmuring pines, till all their toil seemed foolishness, and they thought of their renown no more.Then one lifted his head suddenly, and cried, “What use in wandering for ever? Let us stay here and rest awhile.” And another, “Let us row to the shore, and hear the words they sing.” And another, “I care not for the words, but for the music. They shall sing me to sleep, that I may rest.”And Butes, the son of Pandion, the fairest of all mortal men, leapt out and swam toward the shore, crying, “I come, I come, fair maidens, to live and die here, listening to your song.”Then Medeia clapped her hands together, and cried, “Sing louder, Orpheus, sing a bolder strain; wake up these hapless sluggards, or none of them will see the land of Hellas more.”Then Orpheus lifted his harp, and crashed his cunning hand across the strings; and his music and his voice rose like a trumpet through the still evening air; into the air it rushed like thunder, till the rocks rang and the sea; and into their souls it rushed like wine, till all hearts beat fast within their breasts.And he sung the song of Perseus, how the Gods led him over land and sea, and how he slew the loathly Gorgon, and won himself a peerless bride; and how he sits now with the Gods upon Olympus, a shining star in the sky, immortal with his immortal bride, and honoured by all men below.So Orpheus sang, and the Sirens, answering each other across the golden sea, till Orpheus’s voice drowned the Sirens, and the heroes caught their oars again.And they cried, “We will be men like Perseus, and we will dare and suffer to the last. Sing us his song again, brave Orpheus, that we may forget the Sirens and their spell.”And as Orpheus sang, they dashed their oars into the sea, and kept time to his music, as they fled fast away; and the Sirens’ voices died behind them, in the hissing of the foam along their wake.But Butes swam to the shore, and knelt down before the Sirens, and cried, “Sing on! sing on!” But he could say no more, for a charmed sleep came over him, and a pleasant humming in his ears; and he sank all along upon the pebbles, and forgot all heaven and earth, and never looked at that sad beach around him, all strewn with the bones of men.Then slowly rose up those three fair sisters, with a cruel smile upon their lips; and slowly they crept down towards him, like leopards who creep upon their prey; and their hands were like the talons of eagles, as they stept across the bones of their victims to enjoy their cruel feast.But fairest Aphrodite saw him from the highest Idalian peak, and she pitied his youth and his beauty, and leapt up from her golden throne; and like a falling star she cleft the sky, and left a trail of glittering light, till she stooped to the Isle of the Sirens, and snatched their prey from their claws. And she lifted Butes as he lay sleeping, and wrapt him in golden mist; and she bore him to the peak of Lilybæum, and he slept there many a pleasant year.But when the Sirens saw that they were conquered, they shrieked for envy and rage, and leapt from the beach into the sea, and were changed into rocks until this day.Then they came to the straits by Lilybæum, and saw Sicily, the three-cornered island, under which Enceladus the giant lies groaning day and night, and when he turns the earth quakes, and his breath bursts out in roaring flames from the highest cone of Ætna, above the chestnut woods. And there Charybdis caught them in its fearful coils of wave, and rolled mast-high about them, and spun them round and round; and they could go neither back nor forward, while the whirlpool sucked them in.And while they struggled they saw near them, on the other side the strait, a rock stand in the water, with its peak wrapt round in clouds—a rock which no man could climb, though he had twenty hands and feet, for the stone was smooth and slippery, as if polished by man’s hand; and halfway up a misty cave looked out toward the west.And when Orpheus saw it, he groaned, and struck his hands together. And “Little will it help us,” he cried, “to escape the jaws of the whirlpool; for in that cave lives Scylla, the sea-hag with a young whelp’s voice; my mother warned me of her ere we sailed away from Hellas; she has six heads, and six long necks, and hides in that dark cleft. And from her cave she fishes for all things which pass by, for sharks, and seals, and dolphins, and all the herds of Amphitrite. And never ship’s crew boasted that they came safe by her rock; for she bends her long necks down to them, and every mouth takes up a man. And who will help us now? For Hera and Zeus hate us, and our ship is foul with guilt; so we must die, whatever befalls.”Then out of the depths came Thetis, Peleus’s silver-footed bride, for love of her gallant husband, and all her nymphs around her; and they played like snow-white dolphins, diving on from wave to wave, before the ship, and in her wake, and beside her, as dolphins play. And they caught the ship, and guided her, and passed her on from hand to hand, and tossed her through the billows, as maidens toss the ball. And when Scylla stooped to seize her, they struck back her ravening heads, and foul Scylla whined, as a whelp whines, at the touch of their gentle hands. But she shrank into her cave affrighted; for all bad things shrink from good; and Argo leapt safe past her, while a fair breeze rose behind. Then Thetis and her nymphs sank down to their coral caves beneath the sea, and their gardens of green and purple, where live flowers bloom all the year round; while the heroes went on rejoicing, yet dreading what might come next.After that they rowed on steadily for many a weary day, till they saw a long high island, and beyond it a mountain land. And they searched till they found a harbour, and there rowed boldly in. But after awhile they stopped, and wondered; for there stood a great city on the shore, and temples and walls and gardens, and castles high in air upon the cliffs. And on either side they saw a harbour, with a narrow mouth, but wide within; and black ships without number, high and dry upon the shore.Then Ancaios, the wise helmsman, spoke, “What new wonder is this? I know all isles, and harbours, and the windings of all seas; and this should be Corcyra, where a few wild goat herds dwell. But whence come these new harbours and vast works of polished stone?”But Jason said, “They can be no savage people. We will go in and take our chance.”So they rowed into the harbour, among a thousand black-beaked ships, each larger far than Argo, toward a quay of polished stone. And they wondered at that mighty city, with its roofs of burnished brass, and long and lofty walls of marble, with strong palisades above. And the quays were full of people, merchants, and mariners, and slaves, going to and fro with merchandise among the crowd of ships. And the heroes’ hearts were humbled, and they looked at each other and said, “We thought ourselves a gallant crew when we sailed from Iolcos by the sea: but how small we look before this city, like an ant before a hive of bees.”Then the sailors hailed them roughly from the quay, “What men are you?—we want no strangers here, nor pirates. We keep our business to ourselves.”But Jason answered gently, with many a flattering word, and praised their city and their harbour, and their fleet of gallant ships. “Surely you are the children of Poseidon, and the masters of the sea; and we are but poor wandering mariners, worn out with thirst and toil. Give us but food and water, and we will go on our voyage in peace.”Then the sailors laughed, and answered, “Stranger, you are no fool; you talk like an honest man, and you shall find us honest too. We are the children of Poseidon, and the masters of the sea; but come ashore to us, and you shall have the best that we can give.”So they limped ashore, all stiff and weary, with long ragged beards and sunburnt cheeks, and garments torn and weather-stained, and weapons rusted with the spray, while the sailors laughed at them (for they were rough-tongued, though their hearts were frank and kind.) And one said, “These fellows are but raw sailors; they look as if they had been sea-sick all the day.” And another, “Their legs have grown crooked with much rowing, till they waddle in their walk like ducks.”At that Idas the rash would have struck them; but Jason held him back, till one of the merchant kings spoke to them, a tall and stately man.“Do not be angry, strangers; the sailor boys must have their jest. But we will treat you justly and kindly, for strangers and poor men come from God; and you seem no common sailors by your strength, and height, and weapons. Come up with me to the palace of Alcinous, the rich sea-going king, and we will feast you well and heartily; and after that you shall tell us your name.”But Medeia hung back, and trembled, and whispered in Jason’s ear, “We are betrayed, and are going to our ruin, for I see my countrymen among the crowd; dark-eyed Colchi in steel mail-shirts, such as they wear in my father’s land.”“It is too late to turn,” said Jason. And he spoke to the merchant king—”What country is this, good sir; and what is this new-built town?”“This is the land of the Phæaces, beloved by all the Immortals; for they come hither and feast like friends with us, and sit by our side in the hall. Hither we came from Liburnia to escape the unrighteous Cyclopes; for they robbed us, peaceful merchants, of our hard-earned wares and wealth. So Nausithous, the son of Poseidon, brought us hither, and died in peace; and now his son Alcinous rules us, and Arete the wisest of queens.”So they went up across the square, and wondered still more as they went; for along the quays lay in order great cables, and yards, and masts, before the fair temple of Poseidon, the blue-haired king of the seas. And round the square worked the ship-wrights, as many in number as ants, twining ropes, and hewing timber, and smoothing long yards and oars. And the Minuai went on in silence through clean white marble streets, till they came to the hall of Alcinous, and they wondered then still more. For the lofty palace shone aloft in the sun, with walls of plated brass, from the threshold to the innermost chamber, and the doors were of silver and gold. And on each side of the doorway sat living dogs of gold, who never grew old or died, so well Hephaistos had made them in his forges in smoking Lemnos, and gave them to Alcinous to guard his gates by night. And within, against the walls, stood thrones on either side, down the whole length of the hall, strewn with rich glossy shawls; and on them the merchant kings of those crafty sea-roving Phæaces sat eating and drinking in pride, and feasting there all the year round. And boys of molten gold stood each on a polished altar, and held torches in their hands, to give light all night to the guests. And round the house sat fifty maid-servants, some grinding the meal in the mill, some turning the spindle, some weaving at the loom, while their hands twinkled as they passed the shuttle, like quivering aspen leaves.And outside before the palace a great garden was walled round, filled full of stately fruit-trees, with olives and sweet figs, and pomegranates, pears, and apples, which bore the whole year round. For the rich southwest wind fed them, till pear grew ripe on pear, fig on fig, and grape on grape, all the winter and the spring. And at the farther end gay flower-beds bloomed through all seasons of the year; and two fair fountains rose, and ran, one through the garden-grounds, and one beneath the palace gate, to water all the town. Such noble gifts the heavens had given to Alcinous the wise.So they went in, and saw him sitting, like Poseidon, on his throne, with his golden sceptre by him, in garments stiff with gold, and in his hand a sculptured goblet, as he pledged the merchant kings; and beside him stood Arete, his wise and lovely queen, and leaned against a pillar as she spun her golden threads.Then Alcinous rose, and welcomed them, and bade them sit and eat; and the servants brought them tables, and bread, and meat, and wine.But Medeia went on trembling toward Arete the fair queen, and fell at her knees, and clasped them, and cried, weeping, as she knelt,—“I am your guest, fair queen, and I entreat you by Zeus from whom prayers come. Do not send me back to my father to die some dreadful death; but let me go my way, and bear my burden. Have I not had enough of punishment and shame?”“Who are you, strange maiden? and what is the meaning of your prayer?”“I am Medeia, daughter of Aietes, and I saw my countrymen here to-day; and I know that they are come to find me, and take me home to die some dreadful death.”Then Arete frowned, and said—”Lead this girl in, my maidens; and let the kings decide, not I.”And Alcinous leapt up from his throne, and cried, “Speak, strangers, who are you? And who is this maiden?”“We are the heroes of the Minuai,” said Jason; “and this maiden has spoken truth. We are the men who took the golden fleece, the men whose fame has run round every shore. We came hither out of the ocean, after sorrows such as man never saw before. We went out many, and come back few, for many a noble comrade have we lost. So let us go, as you should let your guests go, in peace; that the world may say, ‘Alcinous is a just king.’ ”But Alcinous frowned, and stood deep in thought; and at last he spoke—“Had not the deed been done which is done, I should have said this day to myself, ‘It is an honour to Alcinous, and to his children after him, that the far-famed Argonauts are his guests.’ But these Colchi are my guests, as you are; and for this month they have waited here with all their fleet, for they have hunted all the seas of Hellas, and could not find you, and dared neither go further, nor go home.”“Let them choose out their champions, and we will fight them, man for man.”“No guests of ours shall fight upon our island; and if you go outside they will outnumber you. I will do justice between you; for I know and do what is right.”Then he turned to his kings, and said: “This may stand over till to-morrow. To-night we will feast our guests, and hear the story of all their wanderings, and how they came hither out of the ocean.”So Alcinous bade the servants take the heroes in, and bathe them, and give them clothes. And they were glad when they saw the warm water, for it was long since they had bathed. And they washed off the sea-salt from their limbs, and anointed themselves from head to foot with oil, and combed out their golden hair. Then they came back again into the hall, while the merchant kings rose up to do them honour. And each man said to his neighbour: “No wonder that these men won fame. How they stand now like Giants, or Titans, or Immortals come down from Olympus, though many a winter has worn them, and many a fearful storm. What must they have been when they sailed from Iolcos, in the bloom of their youth, long ago?”Then they went out to the garden; and the merchant princes said: “Heroes, run races with us. Let us see whose feet are nimblest.”“We cannot race against you, for our limbs are stiff from sea; and we have lost our two swift comrades, the sons of the north wind. But do not think us cowards: if you wish to try our strength, we will shoot, and box, and wrestle, against any men on earth.”And Alcinous smiled, and answered: “I believe you, gallant guests; with your long limbs and broad shoulders, we could never match you here. For we care nothing here for boxing, or for shooting with the bow: but for feasts, and songs, and harping, and dancing, and running races, to stretch our limbs on shore.”So they danced there and ran races, the jolly merchant kings, till the night fell, and all went in.And then they ate and drank, and comforted their weary souls, till Alcinous called a herald, and bade him go and fetch the harper.The herald went out, and fetched the harper, and led him in by the hand; and Alcinous cut him a piece of meat, from the fattest of the haunch, and sent it to him, and said, “Sing to us, noble harper, and rejoice the heroes’ hearts.”So the harper played and sang, while the dancers danced strange figures; and after that the tumblers showed their tricks, till the heroes laughed again.Then, “Tell me, heroes,” asked Alcinous, “you who have sailed the ocean round, and seen the manners of all nations, have you seen such dancers as ours here? or heard such music and such singing? We hold ours to be the best on earth.”“Such dancing we have never seen,” said Orpheus; “and your singer is a happy man, for Phoebus himself must have taught him, or else he is the son of a Muse; as I am also, and have sung once or twice, though not so well as he.”“Sing to us, then, noble stranger,” said Alcinous; “and we will give you precious gifts.”So Orpheus took his magic harp, and sang to them a stirring song of their voyage from Iolcos, and their dangers, and how they won the golden fleece; and of Medeia’s love, and how she helped them, and went with them over land and sea; and of all their fearful dangers, from monsters, and rocks, and storms, till the heart of Arete was softened, and all the women wept. And the merchant kings rose up, each man from off his golden throne, and clapped their hands, and shouted: “Hail to the noble Argonauts, who sailed the unknown sea!”Then he went on, and told their journey over the sluggish northern main, and through the shoreless outer ocean, to the fairy island of the west; and of the Sirens, and Scylla, and Charybdis, and all the wonders they had seen, till midnight passed, and the day dawned; but the kings never thought of sleep. Each man sat still and listened, with his chin upon his hand.And at last, when Orpheus had ended, they all went thoughtful out, and the heroes lay down to sleep, beneath the sounding porch outside, where Arete had strewn them rugs and carpets, in the sweet still summer night.But Arete pleaded hard with her husband for Medeia, for her heart was softened. And she said: “The Gods will punish her, not we. After all, she is our guest and my suppliant, and prayers are the daughters of Zeus. And who, too, dare part man and wife, after all they have endured together?”And Alcinous smiled. “The minstrel’s song has charmed you; but I must remember what is right; for songs cannot alter justice; and I must be faithful to my name. Alcinous I am called, the man of sturdy sense; and Alcinous I will be.” But for all that, Arete besought him, until she won him round.So next morning he sent a herald, and called the kings into the square, and said: “This is a puzzling matter; remember but one thing. These Minuai live close by us, and we may meet them often on the seas; but Aietes lives afar off, and we have only heard his name. Which, then, of the two is it safer to offend, the men near us, or the men far off?”The princes laughed, and praised his wisdom; and Alcinous called the heroes to the square, and the Colchi also; and they came and stood opposite each other, but Medeia stayed in the palace. Then Alcinous spoke,—”Heroes of the Colchi, what is your errand about this lady?”“To carry her home with us, that she may die a shameful death: but if we return without her, we must die the death she should have died.”“What say you to this, Jason the Æolid?” said Alcinous, turning to the Minuai.“I say,” said the cunning Jason, “that they are come here on a bootless errand. Do you think that you can make her follow you, heroes of the Colchi? her, who knows all spells and charms? She will cast away your ships on quicksands, or call down on you Brimo the wild huntress; or the chains will fall from off her wrists, and she will escape in her dragon-car; or if not thus, some other way, for she has a thousand plans and wiles. And why return home at all, brave heroes, and face the long seas again, and the Bosphorus, and the stormy Euxine, and double all your toil? There is many a fair land round these coasts, which waits for gallant men like you. Better to settle there, and build a city, and let Aietes and Colchis help themselves.”Then a murmur rose among the Colchi, and some cried, “He has spoken well;” and some, “We have had enough of roving, we will sail the seas no more!” And the chief said at last, “Be it so, then; a plague she has been to us, and a plague to the house of her father, and a plague she will be to you. Take her, since you are no wiser; and we will sail away toward the north.”Then Alcinous gave them food, and water, and garments, and rich presents of all sorts; and he gave the same to the Minuai, and sent them all away in peace.So Jason kept the dark witch-maiden to breed him woe and shame: and the Colchi went northward into the Adriatic, and settled, and built towns along the shore.Then the heroes rowed away to the eastward, to reach Hellas, their beloved land; but a storm came down upon them, and swept them far away toward the south. And they rowed till they were spent with struggling, through the darkness and the blinding rain, but where they were they could not tell, and they gave up all hope of life. And at last touched the ground, and when daylight came they waded to the shore; and saw nothing round but sand and desolate salt pools; for they had come to the quicksands of the Syrtis, and the dreary treeless flats which lie between Numidia and Cyrene, on the burning shore of Africa. And there they wandered starving for many a weary day, ere they could launch their ship again, and gain the open sea. And there Canthus was killed, while he was trying to drive off sheep, by a stone which a herdsman threw.And there too Mopsus died, the seer who knew the voices of all birds; but he could not foretell his own end, for he was bitten in the foot by a snake, one of those which sprang from the Gorgon’s head when Perseus carried it across the sands.At last they rowed away toward the northward, for many a weary day, till their water was spent, and their food eaten; and they were worn out with hunger and thirst. But at last they saw a long steep island, and a blue peak high among the clouds; and they knew it for the peak of Ida, and the famous land of Crete. And they said, “We will land in Crete, and see Minos the just king, and all his glory and his wealth; at least he will treat us hospitably, and let us fill our water-casks upon the shore.”But when they came nearer to the island they saw a wondrous sight upon the cliffs. For on a cape to the westward stood a giant, taller than any mountain pine, who glittered aloft against the sky like a tower of burnished brass. He turned and looked on all sides round him, till he saw the Argo and her crew; and when he saw them he came toward them, more swiftly than the swiftest horse, leaping across the glens at a bound, and striding at one step from down to down. And when he came abreast of them he brandished his arms up and down, as a ship hoists and lowers her yards, and shouted with his brazen throat like a trumpet from off the hills—”You are pirates, you are robbers! If you dare land here, you die.”Then the heroes cried, “We are no pirates. We are all good men and true, and all we ask is food and water;” but the giant cried the more—“You are robbers, you are pirates all; I know you; and if you land, you shall die the death.”Then he waved his arms again as a signal, and they saw the people flying inland, driving their flocks before them, while a great flame arose among the hills. Then the giant ran up a valley and vanished, and the heroes lay on their oars in fear.But Medeia stood watching all, from under her steep black brows, with a cunning smile upon her lips, and a cunning plot within her heart. At last she spoke, “I know this giant. I heard of him in the East. Hephaistos the Fire King made him in his forge in Ætna beneath the earth, and called him Talus, and gave him to Minos for a servant, to guard the coast of Crete. Thrice a day he walks round the island, and never stops to sleep; and if strangers land he leaps into his furnace, which flames there among the hills; and when he is red-hot he rushes on them, and burns them in his brazen hands.”Then all the heroes cried, “What shall we do, wise Medeia? We must have water, or we die of thirst. Flesh and blood we can face fairly; but who can face this red-hot brass?”“I can face red-hot brass, if the tale I hear be true. For they say that he has but one vein in all his body, filled with liquid fire; and that this vein is closed with a nail: but I know not where that nail is placed. But if I can get it once into these hands, you shall water your ship here in peace.”Then she bade them put her on shore, and row off again, and wait what would befall.And the heroes obeyed her unwillingly, for they were ashamed to leave her so alone; but Jason said, “She is dearer to me than to any of you, yet I will trust her freely on shore; she has more plots than we can dream of in the windings of that fair and cunning head.”So they left the witch-maiden on the shore; and she stood there in her beauty all alone, till the giant strode back red-hot from head to heel, while the grass hissed and smoked beneath his tread.And when he saw the maiden alone, he stopped; and she looked boldly up into his face without moving, and began her magic song:—“Life is short, though life is sweet; and even men of brass and fire must die. The brass must rust, the fire must cool, for time gnaws all things in their turn. Life is short, though life is sweet: but sweeter to live forever; sweeter to live ever youthful like the Gods, who have ichor in their veins; ichor which gives life, and youth, and joy, and a bounding heart.”Then Talus said, “Who are you, strange maiden, and where is this ichor of youth?”Then Medeia held up a flask of crystal, and said, “Here is the ichor of youth. I am Medeia the enchantress; my sister Circe gave me this, and said, “Go and reward Talus, the faithful servant, for his fame is gone out into all lands.” So come, and I will pour this into your veins, that you may live forever young.”And he listened to her false words, that simple Talus, and came near; and Medeia said, “Dip yourself in the sea first, and cool yourself, lest you burn my tender hands; then show me where the nail in your vein is, that I may pour the ichor in.”Then that simple Talus dipped himself in the sea, till it hissed, and roared, and smoked; and came and knelt before Medeia, and showed her the secret nail.And she drew the nail out gently; but she poured no ichor in; and instead the liquid fire spouted forth, like a stream of red-hot iron. And Talus tried to leap up, crying, “You have betrayed me, false witch-maiden!” But she lifted up her hands before him, and sang, till he sank beneath her spell. And as he sank, his brazen limbs clanked heavily, and the earth groaned beneath his weight; and the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea; and Medeia laughed, and called to the heroes, “Come ashore, and water your ship in peace.”So they came, and found the giant lying dead; and they fell down, and kissed Medeia’s feet; and watered their ship, and took sheep and oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore.At last, after many more adventures, they came to the Cape of Malea, at the southwest point of the Peloponnese. And there they offered sacrifices, and Orpheus purged them from their guilt. Then they rode away again to the northward, past the Laconian shore, and came all worn and tired by Sunium, and up the long Eubœan Strait, until they saw once more Pelion, and Aphetai, and Iolcos by the sea.And they ran the ship ashore; but they had no strength left to haul her up the beach; and they crawled out on the pebbles, and sat down, and wept till they could weep no more. For the houses and the trees were all altered; and all the faces which they saw were strange; and their joy was swallowed up in sorrow, while they thought of their youth, and all their labour, and the gallant comrades they had lost.And the people crowded round, and asked them, “Who are you, that you sit weeping here?”“We are the sons of your princes, who sailed out many a year ago. We went to fetch the golden fleece; and we have brought it, and grief therewith. Give us news of our fathers and our mothers, if any of them be left alive on earth.”Then there was shouting, and laughing, and weeping; and all the kings came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and bewailed the valiant dead.Then Jason went up with Medeia to the palace of his uncle Pelias. And when he came in, Pelias sat by the hearth, crippled and blind with age; while opposite him sat Æson, Jason’s father, crippled and blind likewise; and the two old men’s heads shook together, as they tried to warm themselves before the fire.And Jason fell down at his father’s knees, and wept, and called him by his name. And the old man stretched his hands out, and felt him, and said, “Do not mock me, young hero. My son Jason is dead long ago at sea.”“I am your own son Jason, whom you trusted to the Centaur upon Pelion; and I have brought home the golden fleece, and a princess of the Sun’s race for my bride. So now give me up the kingdom, Pelias my uncle, and fulfil your promise as I have fulfilled mine.”Then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let him go; and cried, “Now I shall not go down lonely to my grave. Promise me never to leave me till I die.”
Before the Spaniards occupied the island of Mindanao, there lived in the valley of the Rio Grande a very strong man, Bantugan, whose father was the brother of the earthquake and thunder.Now the Sultan of the Island had a beautiful daughter whom Bantugan wished to marry, but the home of the Sultan was far off, and whoever went to carry Bantugan’s proposal would have a long and hazardous journey. All the head men consulted together regarding who should be sent, and at last it was decided that Bantugan’s own son, Balatama, was the one to go. Balatama was young but he was strong and brave, and when the arms of his father were given him to wear on the long journey his heart swelled with pride. More than once on the way, however, his courage was tried, and only the thought of his brave father gave him strength to proceed.Once he came to a wooden fence which surrounded a stone in the form of a man, and as it was directly in his path he drew his fighting knife to cut down the fence. Immediately the air became as black as night and stones rained down as large as houses. This made Balatama cry, but he protected himself with his father’s shield and prayed, calling on the winds from the homeland until they came and cleared the air again.Thereupon Balatama encountered a great snake in the road, and it inquired his errand. When told, the snake said:“You cannot go on, for I am guard of this road and no one can pass.”The animal made a move to seize him, but with one stroke of his fighting knife the boy cut the snake into two pieces, one of which he threw into the sea and the other into the mountains.After many days the weary lad came to a high rock in the road, which glistened in the sunlight. From the top he could look down into the city for which he was bound. It was a splendid place with ten harbors. Standing out from the other houses was one of crystal and another of pure gold. Encouraged by this sight he went on, but though it seemed but a short distance, it was some time before he at last stood at the gate of the town.It was not long after this, however, before Balatama had made known his errand to the Sultan, and that monarch, turning to his courtiers, said:“You, my friends, decide whether or not I shall give the hand of my daughter to Bantugan in marriage.”The courtiers slowly shook their heads and began to offer objections.Said one, “I do not see how Bantugan can marry the Sultan’s daughter because the first gift must be a figure of a man or woman in pure gold.”“Well,” said the son of Bantugan, “I am here to learn what you want and to say whether or not it can be given.”Then a second man spoke: “You must give a great yard with a floor of gold, which must be three feet thick.”“All this can be given,” answered the boy.And the sister of the Princess said: “The gifts must be as many as the blades of grass in our city.”“It shall be granted,” said Balatama.“You must give a bridge built of stone to cross the great river,” said one.And another: “A ship of stone you must give, and you must change into gold all the cocoanuts and leaves in the Sultan’s grove.”“All this can be done,” said Balatama. “My uncles will give all save the statue of gold, and that I shall give myself. But first I must go to my father’s town to secure it.”At this they were angry and declared that he had made sport of them and unless he produced the statue at once they would kill him.“If I give you the statue now,” said he, “there will come dreadful storms, rain, and darkness.”But they only laughed at him and insisted on having the statue, so he reached in his helmet and drew it forth.Immediately the earth began to quake. A great storm arose, and stones as large as houses rained until the Sultan called to Balatama to put back the statue lest they all be killed.“You would not believe what I told you,” said the boy; “and now I am going to let the storm continue.”But the Sultan begged him and promised that Bantugan might marry his daughter with no other gifts at all save the statue of gold. Balatama put back the statue into his helmet, and the air became calm again to the great relief of the Sultan and his courtiers. Then Balatama prepared to return home, promising that Bantugan would come in three months for the wedding.All went well with the boy on the way home until he came to the fence surrounding the stone in the form of a man, and there he was detained and compelled to remain four months.Now about this time a Spanish general heard that Bantugan was preparing to marry the Sultan’s daughter, whom he determined to wed himself. A great expedition was prepared, and he with all his brothers embarked on his large warship which was followed by ten thousand other ships. They went to the Sultan’s city, and their number was so great that they filled the harbor, frightening the people greatly.Then the General’s brother disembarked and came to the house of the Sultan. He demanded the Princess for the General, saying that if the request were refused, the fleet would destroy the city and all its people. The Sultan and his courtiers were so frightened that they decided to give his daughter to the General, the next full moon being the date set for the wedding.In the meantime Bantugan had been preparing everything for the marriage which he expected to take place at the appointed time. But as the days went by and Balatama did not return, they became alarmed, fearing he was dead. After three months had passed, Bantugan prepared a great expedition to go in search of his son, and the great warship was decorated with flags of gold.As they came in sight of the Sultan’s city, they saw the Spanish fleet in the harbor, and one of his brothers advised Bantugan not to enter until the Spaniards left They then brought their ship to anchor. But all were disappointed that they could not go farther, and one said, “Why do we not go on? Even if the blades of grass turn into Spaniards we need not fear.” Another said: “Why do we fear? Even if the cannon-balls come like rain, we can always fight.” Finally some wanted to return to their homes and Bantugan said: “No, let us seek my son. Even though we must enter the harbor where the Spaniards are, let us continue our search.” So at his command the anchors were lifted, and they sailed into the harbor where the Spanish fleet lay.Now at this very time the Spanish general and his brother were with the Sultan, intending to call upon the Princess. As the brother talked with one of the sisters of the Princess they moved toward the window, and looking down they saw Bantugan’s ships entering the harbor. They could not tell whose flags the ships bore. Neither could the Sultan when he was called. Then he sent his brother to bring his father who was a very old man, to see if he could tell. The father was kept in a little dark room by himself that he might not get hurt, and the Sultan said to his brother:“If he is so bent with age that he cannot see, talk, or walk, tickle him in the ribs and that will make him young again; and, my Brother, carry him here yourself lest one of the slaves should let him fall and he should hurt himself.”So the old man was brought, and when he looked out upon the ships he saw that the flags were those of the father of Bantugan who had been a great friend of his in his youth. And he told them that he and Bantugan’s father years ago had made a contract that their children and children’s children should intermarry, and now since the Sultan had promised his daughter to two people, he foresaw that great trouble would come to the land. Then the Sultan said to the General:“Here are two claimants to my daughter’s hand. Go aboard your ships and you and Bantugan make war on each other, and the victor shall have my daughter.”So the Spaniards opened fire upon Bantugan, and for three days the earth was so covered with smoke from the battle that neither could see his enemy. Then the Spanish general said:“I cannot see Bantugan or the fleet anywhere, so let us go and claim the Princess.”But the Sultan said: “We must wait until the smoke rises to make sure that Bantugan is gone.”When the smoke rose, the ships of Bantugan were apparently unharmed and the Sultan said:“Bantugan has surely won, for his fleet is uninjured while yours is badly damaged. You have lost.”“No,” said the General, “we will fight it out on dry land.”So they both landed their troops and their cannon, and a great fight took place, and soon the ground was covered with dead bodies. And the Sultan commanded them to stop, as the women and children in the city were being killed by the cannon-balls, but the General said:“If you give your daughter to Bantugan we shall fight forever or until we die.”Then the Sultan sent for Bantugan and said:“We must deceive the Spaniard in order to get him to go away. Let us tell him that neither of you will marry my daughter, and then after he has gone, we shall have the wedding.”Bantugan agreed to this, and word was sent to the Spaniards that the fighting must cease since many women and children were being killed. So it was agreed between the Spaniard and Bantugan that neither of them should marry the Princess. Then they both sailed away to their homes.Bantugan soon returned, however, and married the Princess, and on the way back to his home they found his son and took him with them. For about a week the Spanish general sailed toward his home and then he, too, turned about to go back, planning to take the Princess by force. When he found that she had already been carried away by Bantugan, his wrath knew no bounds. He destroyed the Sultan, his city, and all its people. And then he sailed away to prepare a great expedition with which he should utterly destroy Bantugan and his country as well.One morning Bantugan looked out and saw at the mouth of the Rio Grande the enormous fleet of the Spaniards whose numbers were so great that in no direction could the horizon be seen. His heart sank within him, for he knew that he and his country were doomed.Though he could not hope to win in a fight against such great numbers, he called his headmen together and said:“My Brothers, the Christian dogs have come to destroy the land. We cannot successfully oppose them, but in the defense of the fatherland we can die.”So the great warship was again prepared, and all the soldiers of Islam embarked, and then with Bantugan standing at the bow they sailed forth to meet their fate.The fighting was fast and furious, but soon the great warship of Bantugan filled with water until at last it sank, drawing with it hundreds of the Spanish ships. And then a strange thing happened. At the very spot where Bantugan’s warship sank, there arose from the sea a great island which you can see today not far from the mouth of the Rio Grande. It is covered with bongo palms, and deep within its mountains live Bantugan and his warriors. A Moro sailboat passing this island is always scanned by Bantugan’s watchers, and if it contains women such as he admires, they are snatched from their seats and carried deep into the heart of the mountain. For this reason Moro women fear even to sail near the island of Bongos.When the wife of Bantugan saw that her husband was no more and that his warship had been destroyed, she gathered together the remaining warriors and set forth herself to avenge him. In a few hours her ship was also sunk, and in the place where it sank there arose the mountain of Timaco.On this thickly wooded island are found white monkeys, the servants of the Princess, who still lives in the center of the mountain. On a quiet day high up on the mountain side one can hear the chanting and singing of the waiting-girls of the wife of Bantugan.
Before the opening of the great bridge sent commerce rattling up Washington Street in Brooklyn that thoroughfare was a shaded and beautiful avenue, and among the houses that attested its respectability was one, between Tillary and Concord Streets, that was long declared to be haunted. A man and his wife dwelt there who seemed to be fondly attached to each other, and whose love should have been the stronger because of their three children none grew to years. A mutual sorrow is as close a tie as a common affection. One day, while on a visit to a friend, the wife saw her husband drive by in a carriage with a showy woman beside him. She went home at once, and when the supposed recreant returned she met him with bitter reproaches. He answered never a word, but took his hat and left the house, never to be seen again in the places that had known him.The wife watched and waited, daily looking for his return, but days lengthened into weeks, months, years, and still he came not. Sometimes she lamented that she had spoken hastily and harshly, thinking that, had she known all, she might have found him blameless. There was no family to look after, no wholesome occupation that she sought, so the days went by in listening and watching, until, at last, her body and mind gave way, and the familiar sight of her face, watching from a second floor window, was seen no longer. Her last day came. She had risen from her bed; life and mind seemed for a moment to be restored to her; and standing where she had stood so often, her form supported by a half-closed shutter and a grasp on the sash, she looked into the street once more, sighed hopelessly, and so died. It was her shade that long watched at the windows; it was her waxen face, heavy with fatigue and pain, that was dimly seen looking over the balusters in the evening.
Once upon a time an old man and his wife lived together in a little village. They might have been happy if only the old woman had had the sense to hold her tongue at proper times. But anything which might happen indoors, or any bit of news which her husband might bring in when he had been anywhere, had to be told at once to the whole village, and these tales were repeated and altered till it often happened that much mischief was made, and the old man’s back paid for it.One day, he drove to the forest. When he reached the edge of it he got out of his cart and walked beside it. Suddenly he stepped on such a soft spot that his foot sank in the earth.‘What can this be?’ thought he. ‘I’ll dig a bit and see.’So he dug and dug, and at last he came on a little pot full of gold and silver.‘Oh, what luck! Now, if only I knew how I could take this treasure home with me—-but I can never hope to hide it from my wife, and once she knows of it she’ll tell all the world, and then I shall get into trouble.’He sat down and thought over the matter a long time, and at last he made a plan. He covered up the pot again with earth and twigs, and drove on into the town, where he bought a live pike and a live hare in the market.Then he drove back to the forest and hung the pike up at the very top of a tree, and tied up the hare in a fishing net and fastened it on the edge of a little stream, not troubling himself to think how unpleasant such a wet spot was likely to be to the hare.Then he got into his cart and trotted merrily home.‘Wife!’ cried he, the moment he got indoors. ‘You can’t think what a piece of good luck has come our way.’‘What, what, dear husband? Do tell me all about it at once.’‘No, no, you’ll just go off and tell everyone.’‘No, indeed! How can you think such things! For shame! If you like I will swear never to—-‘‘Oh, well! if you are really in earnest then, listen.’And he whispered in her ear: ‘I’ve found a pot full of gold and silver in the forest! Hush!—-‘‘And why didn’t you bring it back?’‘Because we’ll drive there together and bring it carefully back between us.’So the man and his wife drove to the forest.As they were driving along the man said:‘What strange things one hears, wife! I was told only the other day that fish will now live and thrive in the tree tops and that some wild animals spend their time in the water. Well! well! times are certainly changed.’‘Why, you must be crazy, husband! Dear, dear, what nonsense people do talk sometimes.’‘Nonsense, indeed! Why, just look. Bless my soul, if there isn’t a fish, a real pike I do believe, up in that tree.’‘Gracious!’ cried his wife. ‘How did a pike get there? It IS a pike–you needn’t attempt to say it’s not. Can people have said true—-‘But the man only shook his head and shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth and gaped as if he really could not believe his own eyes.‘What are you standing staring at there, stupid?’ said his wife. ‘Climb up the tree quick and catch the pike, and we’ll cook it for dinner.’The man climbed up the tree and brought down the pike, and they drove on.When they got near the stream he drew up.‘What are you staring at again?’ asked his wife impatiently. ‘Drive on, can’t you?’‘Why, I seem to see something moving in that net I set. I must just go and see what it is.’He ran to it, and when he had looked in it he called to his wife:‘Just look! Here is actually a four-footed creature caught in the net. I do believe it’s a hare.’‘Good heavens!’ cried his wife. ‘How did the hare get into your net? It IS a hare, so you needn’t say it isn’t. After all, people must have said the truth—-‘But her husband only shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as if he could not believe his own eyes.‘Now what are you standing there for, stupid?’ cried his wife. ‘Take up the hare. A nice fat hare is a dinner for a feast day.’The old man caught up the hare, and they drove on to the place where the treasure was buried. They swept the twigs away, dug up the earth, took out the pot, and drove home again with it.And now the old couple had plenty of money and were cheery and comfortable. But the wife was very foolish. Every day she asked a lot of people to dinner and feasted them, till her husband grew quite impatient. He tried to reason with her, but she would not listen.‘You’ve got no right to lecture me!’ said she. ‘We found the treasure together, and together we will spend it.’Her husband took patience, but at length he said to her: ‘You may do as you please, but I sha’n’t give you another penny.’The old woman was very angry. ‘Oh, what a good-for-nothing fellow to want to spend all the money himself! But just wait a bit and see what I shall do.’Off she went to the governor to complain of her husband.‘Oh, my lord, protect me from my husband! Ever since he found the treasure there is no bearing him. He only eats and drinks, and won’t work, and he keeps all the money to himself.’The governor took pity on the woman, and ordered his chief secretary to look into the matter.The secretary called the elders of the village together, and went with them to the man’s house.‘The governor,’ said he, ‘desires you to give all that treasure you found into my care.’The man shrugged his shoulders and said: ‘What treasure? I know nothing about a treasure.’‘How? You know nothing? Why your wife has complained of you. Don’t attempt to tell lies. If you don’t hand over all the money at once you will be tried for daring to raise treasure without giving due notice to the governor about it.’‘Pardon me, your excellency, but what sort of treasure was it supposed to have been? My wife must have dreamt of it, and you gentlemen have listened to her nonsense.’‘Nonsense, indeed,’ broke in his wife. ‘A kettle full of gold and silver, do you call that nonsense?’‘You are not in your right mind, dear wife. Sir, I beg your pardon. Ask her how it all happened, and if she convinces you I’ll pay for it with my life.’‘This is how it all happened, Mr. Secretary,’ cried the wife. ‘We were driving through the forest, and we saw a pike up in the top of a tree—-‘‘What, a PIKE?’ shouted the secretary. ‘Do you think you may joke with me, pray?’‘Indeed, I’m not joking, Mr. Secretary! I’m speaking the bare truth.’‘Now you see, gentlemen,’ said her husband, ‘how far you can trust her, when she chatters like this.’‘Chatter, indeed? I!! Perhaps you have forgotten, too, how we found a live hare in the river?’Everyone roared with laughter; even the secretary smiled and stroked his beard, and the man said:‘Come, come, wife, everyone is laughing at you. You see for yourself, gentlemen, how far you can believe her.’‘Yes, indeed,’ said the village elders, ‘it is certainly the first time we have heard that hares thrive in the water or fish among the tree tops.’The secretary could make nothing of it all, and drove back to the town. The old woman was so laughed at that she had to hold her tongue and obey her husband ever after, and the man bought wares with part of the treasure and moved into the town, where he opened a shop, and prospered, and spent the rest of his days in peace.
One morning when Hatrack the Horse went away from his shanty, he put three umbrellas in the corner next to the front door. His pointing finger pointed at the three umbrellas as he said, “If the three wild Babylonian Baboons come sneaking up to this shanty and sneaking through the door and sneaking through the house, then all you three umbrellas open up like it was raining, jump straight at the baboons and fasten your handles in their hands. Then, all three of you stay open as if it was raining—and hold those handles in the hands of the baboons and never let go till I come.” Hatrack the Horse went away. The three umbrellas stood in the corner next to the front door. And when the umbrellas listened they could hear the three wild Babylonian Baboons sneaking up to the shanty. Soon the baboons, all hairy all over, bangs down their foreheads, came sneaking through the door. Just as they were sneaking through the door they took off their hats to show they were getting ready to sneak through the house. Then the three umbrellas in the corner opened up as if it was raining; they jumped straight at the three wild Babylonian Baboons;and they fastened their handles tight in the hands of the baboons and wouldn’t let go. So there were the three wild Babylonian Baboons, each with a hat in his left hand, and an open umbrella in his right hand. When Hatrack the Horse came home he came, quiet. He opened the front door, quiet. Then he looked around inside the house, quiet. In the corner where he had stood the three umbrellas, he saw the three wild Babylonian Baboons on the floor, sleeping, with umbrellas over their faces. “The umbrellas were so big they couldn’t get through the door,” said Hatrack the Horse. For a long time he stood looking at the bangs hanging down the foreheads of the baboons while they were sleeping. He took a comb and combed the bangs down the fore- heads of the baboons. He went to the cupboard and spread bread and butter. He took the hats out of the left hands of the baboons and put the hats on their heads. He put a piece of bread and butter in the hand of each baboon. After that he snipped each one across the nose with his finger {snippety-snip! just like that).They opened their eyes and stood up. Then he loosened the umbrella handles from their right hands and led them to the door. They all looked out. It was raining. “Now you can go,” he told the baboons. And they all walked out of the front door, and they seemed to be snickering and hiding the snickers. The last he saw of them they were walking away in the rain eating bread and butter. And they took off their hats so the rain ran down and slid off on the bangs of their foreheads. Hatrack the Horse turned to the umbrellas and said, “We know how to make a surprise party when we get a visit from the Babylonian with their bangs falling down their foreheads—don’t we?” That is what happened, as Hatrack the Horse told it to the night policeman in the Village of Cream Puffs.
There were once a Scotsman and an Englishman and an Irishman serving in the army together, who took it into their heads to run away on the first opportunity they could get. The chance came and they took it. They went on travelling for two days through a great forest, without food or drink, and without coming across a single house, and every night they had to climb up into the trees through fear of the wild beasts that were in the wood. On the second morning the Scotsman saw from the top of his tree a great castle far away. He said to himself that he would certainly die if he stayed in the forest without anything to eat but the roots of grass, which would not keep him alive very long. As soon, then, as he got down out of the tree he set off towards the castle, without so much as telling his companions that he had seen it at all; perhaps the hunger and want they had suffered had changed their nature so much that the one did not care what became of the other if he could save himself. He travelled on most of the day, so that it was quite late when he reached the castle, and to his great disappointment found nothing but closed doors and no smoke rising from the chimneys. He thought there was nothing for it but to die after all, and had lain down beside the wall, when he heard a window being opened high above him. At this he looked up, and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.‘Oh, it is Fortune that has sent you to me,’ he said.‘It is indeed,’ said she. ‘What are you in need of, or what has sent you here?’‘Necessity,’ said he. ‘I am dying for want of food and drink.’‘Come inside, then,’ she said; ‘there is plenty of both here.’Accordingly he went in to where she was, and she opened a large room for him, where he saw a number of men lying asleep. She then set food before him, and after that showed him to the room where the others were. He lay down on one of the beds and fell sound asleep. And now we must go back to the two that he left behind him in the wood.When nightfall and the time of the wild beasts came upon these, the Englishman happened to climb up into the very same tree on which the Scotsman was when he got a sight of the castle; and as soon as the day began to dawn and the Englishman looked to the four quarters of heaven, what did he see but the castle too! Off he went without saying a word to the Irishman, and everything happened to him just as it had done to the Scotsman.The poor Irishman was now left all alone, and did not know where the others had gone to, so he just stayed where he was, very sad and miserable. When night came he climbed up into the same tree as the Englishman had been on the night before. As soon as day came he also saw the castle, and set out towards it; but when he reached it he could see no signs of fire or living being about it. Before long, however, he heard the window opened above his head, looked up, and beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He asked if she would give him food and drink, and she answered kindly and heartily that she would, if he would only come inside. This he did very willingly, and she set before him food and drink that he had never seen the like of before. In the room there was a bed, with diamond rings hanging at every loop of the curtains, and everything that was in the room besides astonished him so much that he actually forgot that he was hungry. When she saw that he was not eating at all, she asked him what he wanted yet, to which he replied that he would neither eat nor drink until he knew who she was, or where she came from, or who had put her there.‘I shall tell you that,’ said she. ‘I am an enchanted Princess, and my father has promised that the man who releases me from the spell shall have the third of his kingdom while he is alive, and the whole of it after he is dead, and marry me as well. If ever I saw a man who looked likely to do this, you are the one. I have been here for sixteen years now, and no one who ever came to the castle has asked me who I was, except yourself. Every other man that has come, so long as I have been here, lies asleep in the big room down there.’‘Tell me, then,’ said the Irishman, ‘what is the spell that has been laid on you, and how you can be freed from it.’‘There is a little room there,’ said the Princess, ‘and if I could get a man to stay in it from ten o’clock till midnight for three nights on end I should be freed from the spell.’‘I am the man for you, then,’ said he; ‘I will take on hand to do it.’Thereupon she brought him a pipe and tobacco, and he went into the room; but before long he heard a hammering and knocking on the outside of the door, and was told to open it‘I won’t,’ he said.The next moment the door came flying in, and those outside along with it. They knocked him down, and kicked him, and knelt on his body till it came to midnight; but as soon as the cock crew they all disappeared. The Irishman was little more than alive by this time. As soon as daylight appeared the Princess came, and found him lying full length on the floor, unable to speak a word. She took a bottle, rubbed him from head to foot with something from it, and thereupon he was as sound as ever; but after what he had got that night he was very unwilling to try it a second time. The Princess, however, entreated him to stay, saying that the next night would not be so bad, and in the end he gave in and stayed.When it was getting near midnight he heard them ordering him to open the door, and there were three of them for every one that there had been the previous evening. He did not make the slightest movement to go out to them or to open the door, but before long they broke it up, and were in on top of him. They laid hold of him, and kept throwing him between them up to the ceiling, or jumping above him, until the cock crew, when they all disappeared. When day came the Princess went to the room to see if he was still alive, and taking the bottle put it to his nostrils, which soon brought him to himself. The first thing he said then was that he was a fool to go on getting himself killed for anyone he ever saw, and was determined to be off and stay there no longer, When the Princess learned his intention she entreated him to stay, reminding him that another night would free her from the spell. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘if there is a single spark of life in you when the day comes, the stuff that is in this bottle will make you as sound as ever you were.’With all this the Irishman decided to stay; but that night there were three at him for every one that was there the two nights before, and it looked very unlikely that he would be alive in the morning after all that he got. When morning dawned, and the Princess came to see if he was still alive, she found him lying on the floor as if dead. She tried to see if there was breath in him, but could not quite make it out. Then she put her hand on his pulse, and found a faint movement in it. Accordingly she poured what was in the bottle on him, and before long he rose up on his feet, and was as well as ever he was. So that business was finished, and the Princess was freed from the spell.The Princess then told the Irishman that she must go away for the present, but would return for him in a few days in a carriage drawn by four grey horses. He told her to ‘be aisy,’ and not speak like that to him. ‘I have paid dear for you for the last three nights,’ he said, ‘if I have to part with you now;’ but in the twinkling of an eye she had disappeared. He did not know what to do with himself when he saw that she was gone, but before she went she had given him a little rod, with which he could, when he pleased, waken the men who had been sleeping there, some of them for sixteen years.After being thus left alone, he went in and stretched himself on three chairs that were in the room, when what does he see coming in at the door but a little fair-haired lad.‘Where did you come from, my lad?’ said the Irishman.‘I came to make ready your food for you,’ said he.‘Who told you to do that?’ said the Irishman.‘My mistress,’ answered the lad–‘the Princess that was under the spell and is now free.’By this the Irishman knew that she had sent the lad to wait on him. The lad also told him that his mistress wished him to be ready next morning at nine o’clock, when she would come for him with the carriage, as she had promised. He was greatly pleased at this, and next morning, when the time was drawing near, went out into the garden; but the little fair-haired lad took a big pin out of his pocket, and stuck it into the back of the Irishman’s coat without his noticing it, whereupon he fell sound asleep.Before long the Princess came with the carriage and four horses, and asked the lad whether his master was awake. He said that he wasn’t. ‘It is bad for him,’ said she, ‘when the night is not long enough for him to sleep. Tell him that if he doesn’t meet me at this time to-morrow it is not likely that he will ever see me again all his life.’As soon as she was gone the lad took the pin out of his master’s coat, who instantly awoke. The first word he said to the lad was, ‘Have you seen her?’‘Yes,’ said he, ‘and she bade me tell you that if you don’t meet her at nine o’clock to-morrow you will never see her again.’He was very sorry when he heard this, and could not understand why the sleep should have fallen upon him just when she was coming. He decided, however, to go early to bed that night, in order to rise in time nest morning, and so he did. When it was getting near nine o’clock he went out to the garden to wait till she came, and the fair-haired lad along with him; but as soon as the lad got the chance he stuck the pin into his master’s coat again and he fell asleep as before. Precisely at nine o’clock came the Princess in the carriage with four horses, and asked the lad if his master had got up yet; but he said ‘No, he was asleep, just as he was the day before.’ ‘Dear! dear!’ said the Princess, ‘I am sorry for him. Was the sleep he had last night not enough for him? Tell him that he will never see me here again; and here is a sword that you will give him in my name, and my blessing along with it.’With this she went off, and as soon as she had gone the lad took the pin out of his master’s coat. He awoke instantly, and the first word he said was, ‘Have you seen her?’ The lad said that he had, and there was the sword she had left for him. The Irishman was ready to kill the lad out of sheer vexation, but when he gave a glance over his shoulder not a trace of the fair-haired lad was left.Being thus left all alone, he thought of going into the room where all the men were lying asleep, and there among the rest he found his two comrades who had deserted along with him. Then he remembered what the Princess had told him–that he had only to touch them with the rod she had given him and they would all awake; and the first he touched were his own comrades. They started to their feet at once, and he gave them as much silver and gold as they could carry when they went away. There was plenty to do before he got all the others wakened, for the two doors of the castle were crowded with them all the day long.The loss of the Princess, however, kept rankling in his mind day and night, till finally he thought he would go about the world to see if he could find anyone to give him news of her. So he took the best horse in the stable and set out. Three years he spent travelling through forests and wildernesses, but could find no one able to tell him anything of the Princess. At last he fell into so great despair that he thought he would put an end to his own life, and for this purpose laid hold of the sword that she had given him by the hands of the fair-haired lad; but on drawing it from its sheath he noticed that there was some writing on one side of the blade. He looked at this, and read there, ‘You will find me in the Blue Mountains.’ This made him take heart again, and he gave up the idea of killing himself, thinking that he would go on in hope of meeting some one who could tell him where the Blue Mountains were. After he had gone a long way without thinking where he was going, he saw at last a light far away, and made straight for it. On reaching it he found it came from a little house, and as soon as the man inside heard the noise of the horse’s feet he came out to see who was there. Seeing a stranger on horseback, he asked what brought him there and where he was going.‘I have lived here,’ said he, ‘for three hundred years, and all that time I have not seen a single human being but yourself.’‘I have been going about for the last three years,’ said the Irishman, ‘to see if I could find anyone who can tell me where the Blue Mountains are.’‘Come in,’ said the old man, ‘and stay with me all night. I have a book which contains the history of the world, which I shall go through to-night, and if there is such a place as the Blue Mountains in it we shall find it out.’The Irishman stayed there all night, and as soon as morning came rose to go. The old man said he had not gone to sleep all night for going through the book, but there was not a word about the Blue Mountains in it. ‘But I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘if there is such a place on earth at all, I have a brother who lives nine hundred miles from here, and he is sure to know where they are, if anyone in this world does.’ The Irishman answered that he could never go these nine hundred miles, for his horse was giving in already. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said the old man; ‘I can do better than that. I have only to blow my whistle and you will be at my brother’s house before nightfall.’So he blew the whistle, and the Irishman did not know where on earth he was until he found himself at the other old man’s door, who also told him that it was three hundred years since he had seen anyone, and asked him where he was going.‘I am going to see if I can find anyone that can tell me where the Blue Mountains are,’ he said.‘If you will stay with me to-night,’ said the old man, ‘I have a book of the history of the world, and I shall know where they are before daylight, if there is such a place in it at all.’He stayed there all night, but there was not a word in the book about the Blue Mountains. Seeing that he was rather cast down, the old man told him that he had a brother nine hundred miles away, and that if information could be got about them from anyone it would be from him; ‘and I will enable you,’ he said, ‘to reach the place where he lives before night.’ So he blew his whistle, and the Irishman landed at the brother’s house before nightfall. When the old man saw him he said he had not seen a single man for three hundred years, and was very much surprised to see anyone come to him now.‘Where are you going to?’ he said.‘I am going about asking for the Blue Mountains,’ said the Irishman.‘The Blue Mountains?’ said the old man.‘Yes,’ said the Irishman.‘I never heard the name before; but if they do exist I shall find them out. I am master of all the birds in the world, and have only to blow my whistle and every one will come to me. I shall then ask each of them to tell where it came from, and if there is any way of finding out the Blue Mountains that is it.’So he blew his whistle, and when he blew it then all the birds of the world began to gather. The old man questioned each of them as to where they had come from, but there was not one of them that had come from the Blue Mountains. After he had run over them all, however, he missed a big Eagle that was wanting, and wondered that it had not come. Soon afterwards he saw something big coming towards him, darkening the sky. It kept coming nearer and growing bigger, and what was this after all but the Eagle? When she arrived the old man scolded her, and asked what had kept her so long behind.‘I couldn’t help it,’ she said; ‘I had more than twenty times further to come than any bird that has come here to-day.’‘Where have you come from, then?’ said the old man.‘From the Blue Mountains,’ said she.‘Indeed!’ said the old man; and what are they doing there?’‘They are making ready this very day,’ said the Eagle, ‘for the marriage of the daughter of the King of the Blue Mountains. For three years now she has refused to marry anyone whatsoever, until she should give up all hope of the coming of the man who released her from the spell. Now she can wait no longer, for three years is the time that she agreed with her father to remain without marrying.’The Irishman knew that it was for himself she had been waiting so long, but he was unable to make any better of it, for he had no hope of reaching the Blue Mountains all his life. The old man noticed how sad he grew, and asked the Eagle what she would take for carrying this man on her back to the Blue Mountains.‘I must have threescore cattle killed,’ said she, ‘and cut up into quarters, and every time I look over my shoulder he must throw one of them into my mouth.’As soon as the Irishman and the old man heard her demand they went out hunting, and before evening they had killed three-score cattle. They made quarters of them, as the Eagle told them, and then the old man asked her to lie down, till they would get it all heaped up on her back. First of all, though, they had to get a ladder of fourteen steps, to enable them to get on to the Eagle’s back, and there they piled up the meat as well as they could. Then the old man told the Irishman to mount, and to remember to throw a quarter of beef to her every time she looked round. He went up, and the old man gave the Eagle the word to be off, which she instantly obeyed; and every time she turned her head the Irishman threw a quarter of beef into her mouth.As they came near the borders of the kingdom of the Blue Mountains, however, the beef was done, and, when the Eagle looked over her shoulder, what was the Irishman at but throwing the stone between her tail and her neck! At this she turned a complete somersault, and threw the Irishman off into the sea, where he fell into the bay that was right in front of the King’s Palace. Fortunately the points of his toes just touched the bottom, and he managed to get ashore.When he went up into the town all the streets were gleaming with light, and the wedding of the Princess was just about to begin. He went into the first house he came to, and this happened to be the house of the King’s hen-wife. He asked the old woman what was causing all the noise and light in the town.‘The Princess,’ said she, ‘is going to be married to-night against her will, for she has been expecting every day that the man who freed her from the spell would come.’‘There is a guinea for you,’ said he; ‘go and bring her here.’The old woman went, and soon returned along with the Princess. She and the Irishman recognised each other, and were married, and had a great wedding that lasted for a year and a day.
There was once upon a time a cat and a cock, who agreed to live together, so they built them a hut on an ash-heap, and the cock kept house while the cat went foraging for sausages.One day the fox came running up: “Open the door, little cock!” cried she.––“Pussy told me not to, little fox!” said the cock.––“Open the door, little cock!” repeated the fox.––“I tell you, pussy told me not to, little fox!”––At last, however, the cock grew tired of always saying “No!” so he opened the door, and in the fox rushed, seized him in her jaws, and ran off with him. Then the cock cried:“Help! pussy-pussy!That foxy hussyHas got me tightWith all her might.Across her tailMy legs do trailAlong the bridge so stony!”The cat heard it, gave chase to the fox, rescued the cock, brought him home, scolded him well, and said, “Now keep out of her jaws in the future, if you don’t want to be killed altogether!”Then the cat went out foraging for wheat, so that the cock might have something to eat. He had scarcely gone when the sly she-fox again came creeping up. “Dear little cock!” said she, “pray open the door!”––“Nay, little fox! Pussy said I wasn’t to.” But the fox went on asking and asking till at last the cock let him in. Then the fox rushed at him, seized him by the neck, and ran off with him. Then the cock cried out:“Help! pussy-pussy!That foxy hussyHas got me tightWith all her might.Across her tailMy legs do trailAlong the bridge so stony!”The cat heard it, and again he ran after the fox and rescued the cock, and gave the fox a sound drubbing. Then he said to the cock, “Now, mind you never let her come in again, or she’ll eat you.”But the next time the cat went out, the she-fox came again, and said, “Dear little cock, open the door!”––“No, little fox! Pussy said I wasn’t to.” But the fox begged and begged so piteously that, at last, the cock was quite touched, and opened the door. Then the fox caught him by the throat again, and ran away with him, and the cock cried:“Help! pussy-pussy!That foxy hussyHas got me tightWith all her might.Across her tailMy legs do trailAlong the bridge so stony!”The cat heard it, and gave chase again. He ran and ran, but this time he couldn’t catch the fox up; so he returned home and wept bitterly, because he was now all alone. At last, however, he dried his tears and got him a little fiddle, a little fiddle-bow, and a big sack, and went to the fox’s hole and began to play:“Fiddle-de-dee!The foxy so weeHad daughters twice two,And a little son too,Called Phil.––Fiddle-dee!Come, foxy, and seeMy sweet minstrelsy!”Then the fox’s daughter said, “Mammy, I’ll go out and see who it is that is playing so nicely!” So out she skipped, but no sooner did pussy see her than he caught hold of her and popped her into his sack. Then he played again:“Fiddle-de-dee!The foxy so weeHad daughters twice two,And a little son too,Called Phil.––Fiddle-dee!Come, foxy, and seeMy sweet minstrelsy!”Then the second daughter skipped out, and pussy caught her by the forehead, and popped her into his sack, and went on playing and singing till he had got all four daughters into his sack, and the little son also.Then the old fox was left all alone, and she waited and waited, but not one of them came back. At last she said to herself, “I’ll go out and call them home, for the cock is roasting, and the milk pottage is simmering, and ’tis high time we had something to eat.” So out she popped, and the cat pounced upon her, and killed her too. Then he went and drank up all the soup, and gobbled up all the pottage, and then he saw the cock lying on a plate. “Come, shake yourself, cock!” said puss. So the cock shook himself, and got up, and the cat took the cock home, and the dead foxes too. And when they got home they skinned them to make nice beds to lie upon, and lived happily together in peace and plenty. And as they laughed over the joke as a good joke, we may laugh over it too!
There was once an old mother sheep who had seven lambs, and one day the bat, who was about to make a visit to his father-in-law who lived a long day’s march away, went to the old sheep and asked her to lend him one of her young lambs to carry his load for him. At first the mother sheep refused, but as the young lamb was anxious to travel and see something of the world, and begged to be allowed to go, at last she reluctantly consented. So in the morning at daylight the bat and the lamb set off together, the lamb carrying the bat’s drinking-horn. When they reached half-way, the bat told the lamb to leave the horn underneath a bamboo tree. Directly he arrived at the house, he sent the lamb back to get the horn. When the lamb had gone the bat’s father-in-law brought him food, and the bat ate it all, leaving nothing for the lamb. When the lamb returned, the bat said to him, “Hullo! you have arrived at last I see, but you are too late for food; it is all finished.” He then sent the lamb back to the tree with the horn, and when the lamb returned again it was late, and he went supperless to bed. The next day, just before it was time for food, the bat sent the lamb off again for the drinking-horn, and when the food arrived the bat, who was very greedy, ate it all up a second time. This mean behaviour on the part of the bat went on for four days, until at last the lamb became quite thin and weak. The bat decided to return home the next day, and it was all the lamb could do to carry his load. When he got home to his mother the lamb complained bitterly of the treatment he had received from the bat, and was baa-ing all night, complaining of pains in his inside. The old mother sheep, who was very fond of her children, determined to be revenged on the bat for the cruel way he had starved her lamb; she therefore decided to consult the tortoise, who, although very poor, was considered by all people to be the wisest of all animals. When the old sheep had told the whole story to the tortoise, he considered for some time, and then told the sheep that she might leave the matter entirely to him, and he would take ample revenge on the bat for his cruel treatment of her son.Very soon after this the bat thought he would again go and see his father-in-law, so he went to the mother sheep again and asked her for one of her sons to carry his load as before. The tortoise, who happened to be present, told the bat that he was going in that direction, and would cheerfully carry his load for him. They set out on their journey the following day, and when they arrived at the half-way halting-place the bat pursued the same tactics that he had on the previous occasion. He told the tortoise to hide his drinking-horn under the same tree as the lamb had hidden it before; this the tortoise did, but when the bat was not looking he picked up the drinking-horn again and hid it in his bag. When they arrived at the house the tortoise hung the horn up out of sight in the back yard, and then sat down in the house. Just before it was time for food the bat sent the tortoise to get the drinking-horn, and the tortoise went outside into the yard, and waited until he heard that the beating of the boiled yams into foo-foo had finished; he then went into the house and gave the drinking-horn to the bat, who was so surprised and angry, that when the food was passed he refused to eat any of it, so the tortoise ate it all; this went on for four days, until at last the bat became as thin as the poor little lamb had been on the previous occasion. At last the bat could stand the pains of his inside no longer, and secretly told his mother-in-law to bring him food when the tortoise was not looking. He said, “I am now going to sleep for a little, but you can wake me up when the food is ready.” The tortoise, who had been listening all the time, being hidden in a corner out of sight, waited until the bat was fast asleep, and then carried him very gently into the next room and placed him on his own bed; he then very softly and quietly took off the bat’s cloth and covered himself in it, and lay down where the bat had been; very soon the bat’s mother-in-law brought the food and placed it next to where the bat was supposed to be sleeping, and having pulled his cloth to wake him, went away. The tortoise then got up and ate all the food; when he had finished he carried the bat back again, and took some of the palm-oil and foo-foo and placed it inside the bat’s lips while he was asleep; then the tortoise went to sleep himself. In the morning when he woke up the bat was more hungry than ever, and in a very bad temper, so he sought out his mother-in-law and started scolding her, and asked her why she had not brought his food as he had told her to do. She replied she had brought his food, and that he had eaten it; but this the bat denied, and accused the tortoise of having eaten the food. The woman then said she would call the people in and they should decide the matter; but the tortoise slipped out first and told the people that the best way to find out who had eaten the food was to make both the bat and himself rinse their mouths out with clean water into a basin. This they decided to do, so the tortoise got his tooth-stick which he always used, and having cleaned his teeth properly, washed his mouth out, and returned to the house.When all the people had arrived the woman told them how the bat had abused her, and as he still maintained stoutly that he had had no food for five days, the people said that both he and the tortoise should wash their mouths out with clean water into two clean calabashes; this was done, and at once it could clearly be seen that the bat had been eating, as there were distinct traces of the palm-oil and foo-foo which the tortoise had put inside his lips floating on the water. When the people saw this they decided against the bat, and he was so ashamed that he ran away then and there, and has ever since always hidden himself in the bush during the daytime, so that no one could see him, and only comes out at night to get his food.The next day the tortoise returned to the mother sheep and told her what he had done, and that the bat was for ever disgraced. The old sheep praised him very much, and told all her friends, in consequence of which the reputation of the tortoise for wisdom was greatly increased throughout the whole country.
Many years ago there was a King who had seven sons. As soon as each one of the princes was of age his father sent him on an expedition, that he might display his bravery and marry the maiden whom he preferred. Thus six of the princes acquired wives, but Heaven only knows whether they displayed real bravery or not. It was now the turn of the seventh son, whose name was Bedik.1 His father gave him a horse of lightning, a magic sword and a bow-and-arrow, saying:“Go, my son, and may Heaven grant you good luck.”Bedik started and traveled through the length and breadth of the world, visiting the land of darkness, the land of light, the land of fairies, the land of giants. He did battle with men, beasts, genii, and all kinds of creatures which he encountered on the way, and overcame them all, but in his wars he lost all his servants and his wealth. He was alone, one day, when he came to a magnificent castle built of marble, decorated with gold and jewels and surrounded with orchards and flower gardens. He walked about the building and gazed everywhere, but could see no human being, man or woman. He waited all the day, concealed behind some bushes. Toward evening there came a Giant covered all over with armor, brandishing his bow and arrows, which were of heavy steel. When he walked the earth trembled. When he came near the castle, becoming aware of the presence of a human being, he exclaimed:“Aha! I smell a human being. I go a-hunting to the mountains, and lo! the prey has come to my home. Ho! human being, disclose yourself; else I will make a morsel of you.”The lad was looking at the Giant from his place of concealment. He was the strangest creature that he had ever seen; neither a sword nor an arrow could pierce him. Nevertheless he decided to face him, and coming out from behind the bushes, he stood before him.“Who are you?” asked the Giant. “The bird with its wing, and the snake on its belly could not approach this castle of mine; and how could you venture to come? Have you not heard of the fame of the Invulnerable Giant?”“I have,” said the lad bravely, “and my name is no less famous than yours; I am Bedik; I have traveled all over the world, and having heard of you, I came to measure swords with you.”The Giant gazed at the lad for a moment and suddenly sneezed. The burst of air through his nostrils caused the lad to leap ten rods away.“Halloo!” exclaimed the Giant, laughing, “you do not seem to be very well able to fight me, do you? Nay, come here again; do not be afraid, I will not hurt you. I have heard about you; you are a brave little fellow. But you see you can do no harm to me, because I am invulnerable. Come, be my servant, for I need a skillful human servant, and I do not think I can find a better one than you. Bring your sword and bow and arrows. You see they are not available to pierce me; we may need them for hunting and other purposes.”The lad consented, and they lived together for a time. One day the Giant said to the youth:“You see I am immortal, but I have an anxiety which gnaws my heart day and night. The King of the East has a daughter, and there is no beauty like hers under the sun. I have made seven expeditions to carry her away, but so far have not succeeded. If you can bring her here I will bestow upon you a kingly reward.”“I will bring her for you,” said the lad.“But do you promise it upon your soul?” said the Giant.“I do,” answered the lad, and at once started on the expedition.After a long journey he came to the city of the King of the East, changed his clothes, took the shape of a farmer boy, and became the apprentice of the King’s gardener. He saw the King’s daughter sitting in her window and working with her needle. She was so beautiful that she seemed to say to the sun, “Sun, you need not shine, since I am shining.” The lad fell in love with her and began to curse the hour when he made the solemn promise to convey her to the Giant. One day, taking advantage of the absence of his master, the lad stripped off his humble clothes, and putting on his princely garments, mounted his horse of lightning and rode in the King’s garden. The maiden was looking from her window and saw him. She had never seen a young man so perfect, and she fell in love with him. On the following day she sent two of her maids to the youth, informing him of her love. The lad sent her word who he was, how he had heard of her wondrous beauty, and now he was waiting to do anything that she might order. The city was surrounded by high walls, through fear of the Invulnerable Giant, who assaulted it every year with the intention of carrying off the maiden; but the people of the city, being brave fighters, would not let the maiden be borne away. So the lad had a hard task to perform. One day the girl sent to him, through her maids, the following message:“To-morrow is the feast of the Navasard, when all the maidens of the city go out for recreation and merriment, but I am not allowed to go forth because it is the day when the Invulnerable Giant makes his annual assault to seize me. I will, however, go to the garden by the riverside, which is surrounded by high walls; there I will wait for you to see you display your bravery.”Having received this message, on the next day the youth put on his princely garments, girded his magic sword, and taking his bow and arrows, mounted his horse of lightning. Once or twice he coursed the steed near the garden wall, until it began to gallop as fast as if it had wings. One stroke of the whip, and lo! it jumped over the wall like an eagle, and instantly the horse and its rider alighted in the middle of the garden. In the twinkling of an eye the lad put his arm around the maiden’s waist, and placing her behind him on the saddle, gave another stroke of the whip, which made the horse leap over the garden wall, and in a second they were on safe ground outside the city galloping like a flash of lightning. The maids in attendance were horror-stricken, thinking that it was a hurricane which had taken their lady from them. It was a long time before they understood what had taken place; then they informed the King, who sent out his bravest horsemen in pursuit of the fugitives. But it was too late. The couple on the back of the horse of lightning passed over the mountains and valleys until they came to the border of the deep river. A stroke of the whip and the steed swam the deep waters and emerged on the other side. The King’s horsemen came as far as the river, but seeing that the couple had crossed the frontier, they returned. As soon as the maiden and the youth had crossed the water, and the Invulnerable Giant’s castle appeared in the distance, the maiden said to the lad:“Bedik, dearest, we have come so far and you have not yet spoken a single word to me; you have shown no sign of love. For Heaven’s sake, tell me; did you kidnap me for yourself or for another?”“You said, ‘for Heaven’s sake,’” replied the lad, “I will therefore tell you the truth; I have kidnaped you for the Invulnerable Giant; I have promised to deliver you to him.”“Alas!” exclaimed the maiden. “May Heaven’s curse rest upon the Invulnerable! He could not get me for all the world. You do not reflect that it was by your skill and valor that you secured me. Woe be to frail womanhood! Maidens are the slaves of their hearts. For you, only for you, I eloped. If you reject me, here is the deep water, and here the high precipice; I would better be food for fishes and birds. May Heaven’s fire burn and consume the hard hearts of men!” So saying, she prepared to throw herself down the abyss into the deep water. The lad’s heart began to burn like a furnace, and he took hold of her, crying:“Nay, dearest, do not harm yourself. It was because of the vow I made upon my soul that I am taking you to the Giant, and the day you become his wife I will put an end to my life with this sword, for without you life for me would be a curse.”Then they exchanged vows that they would use every means to put a speedy end to the Invulnerable Giant, and then be married; because they could not marry without destroying the Giant. Thereupon, they mounted the horse and began to proceed toward the castle. The Giant, who from the tower of the castle was looking their way, seeing them at a distance, immediately came down and ran to meet them. He expressed his gratitude to the lad, and his excess of love to the maiden. He treated her with extreme kindness, fearing that he might hurt her tender feelings with his unpolished manners.“Are you pleased with this place?” he asked her. “What do you want me to do in order to make you as happy as possible?”“I am very well, thank you; you are everything for me,” said the maiden, suppressing her bitter hatred towards him. “But my parents consented to send me to you only under the condition that I should keep myself a virgin seven years longer. I have given an oath that I will do so; otherwise the love with which they have cherished me would turn into poison and defile my whole life. Do you accept this condition?”“I do,” said the Giant. “As you are now in my hand, I am willing to wait not only seven years, but, if necessary, seven times seven years.”They exchanged solemn vows, and decided that Bedik should live with them, and be the best man at their wedding. The maiden occupied one apartment of the castle, the youth and the Giant the other apartments, and so they lived for a time. But the lad and the maiden were uneasy. It was in vain to think of killing the Giant,—he was invulnerable. If they eloped he would certainly overtake them, and there was no escaping from his wrath. One day as the Giant was lying on the couch, with his head on the maiden’s lap, she said to him:“In former times, how did you live alone, without any companions? And how is it that you are invulnerable, when so many arrows and swords are thrown at you? What is the secret of your immortality?”At first the Giant refused to tell, but the maiden importuned him, saying: “If you will not inform me, then you do not love me. Tell me in plain words that you love me not, and I will cease to live.”The Giant was at last persuaded to give up his secret, and he said:“Seven days’ journey from this castle there is a white mountain, where lives an unsubduable white bull which neither man nor beast dares to approach. Once in seven days he becomes thirsty and goes to the top of the white mountain, where there is a white fountain with seven white marble reservoirs full of water, which he drains at a single draught. The bull has in his belly a white fox, which in its turn has in its belly a white box made of mother-of-pearl. In that box are seven white sparrows. Those are my spirits, and those are my seven secrets. The bull cannot be subdued, the fox cannot be caught, the box cannot be opened, the sparrows cannot be seized. If either of them is taken, the others will escape. So I remain unconquerable and invulnerable and immortal.”The maiden told the secret to Bedik, adding:“I have done what I could; now it remains for you to do the rest.”After a few days the lad girded on his sword, and bearing his bow and arrow, took leave of the Giant, saying that he would go on a month’s journey. He started and went directly to the convent of the seven wise monks, who were renowned all over the world for their great erudition and learning. After performing his religious duties before the holy altar, he asked the monks:“How is the unconquerable man conquered, and the unsubduable beast subdued?”And he received the following answer:“Man by woman; beast by wine.”On the following day he loaded seven horses with seven skinfuls of seven-year-old wine and took them to the white mountain. He emptied the water out of the seven marble reservoirs and filled them with wine, turning the water of the fountain elsewhere. Near by he dug a trench, and hiding himself, waited for the result. At the end of seven days the white bull came to drink, and smelling the wine, he was so much terrified that he leaped as high as the height of seven poplar trees, and ran back roaring and bellowing. On the following day he returned, and being thirsty, drank the wine and was overcome. He leaped once or twice and fell down senseless. The lad drew his sword and approached and cut off the bull’s head.Let us return a moment to the palace of the Giant. It was the last day of the seven years during which he had waited for the maiden. He had gone to the hunt, that they might have noble game for their wedding dinner. When the bull was overcome and fell, the giant began to grow drowsy. As soon as the youth cut off the bull’s head, the Giant turned dizzy, and a tremor ran through his frame.“Alas!” cried the Giant. “Some one has killed the white bull. I know it is my fault. I gave my secret to the maiden, and she has told it to Bedik or to some other lover. The bull is killed, and I must die. I will go and kill the maiden. She is not to be for me; why shall she be for another?” So saying, he began to run toward the castle.Bedik cut the bull’s belly open; the fox also was drunk and stupid, and he cut off his head. The Giant lost his senses, and the blood began to gush out of his nostrils. The youth, opening the stomach of the fox, obtained the pearl box and put it in warm blood. The lid was opened, and the lad seized the seven sparrows. Thereupon streams of blood began to run from the Giant’s mouth and ears, and his two eye-balls started from their sockets, like two great pomegranates. But still he was running toward the castle, sword in hand, and roaring like a mad beast. The maiden was horror-stricken, and quickly ran up to the top of the tower, determined to throw herself thence and kill herself, rather than fall into the hands of the Giant. The Giant had barely reached the castle door, when Bedik killed two of the sparrows; with that the two knees of the Giant were broken. He killed two more sparrows, and the Giant’s two arms withered. He killed two more, and the lungs and heart of the Giant ceased to breathe and beat. He killed the last sparrow; the Giant knocked his head against the threshold of the castle, his skull was broken, and his brains oozed out. A black smoke rose from his mouth and nostrils, and he lay dead as a stone. Thereupon Bedik came on horseback like a flash of lightning. The maiden descended from the tower, and they embraced one another. At once they decided to go to the maiden’s parents and celebrate their wedding. They collected all the wealth of the Invulnerable Giant, and mounting the horse of lightning, began to proceed toward the East.The maiden being the only child of the King of the East, he was greatly grieved at her loss, seeing that he was getting old, and there was no successor to his throne. On the day following the maiden’s disappearance, the King had sent his servants to the seven wise monks, asking their advice, and he had received the following message:“The hero who carried off your daughter is a Prince. At the end of seven years your daughter will be restored to you by the same hero, as pure and chaste as before.”The anxious father waited for seven long years. It was the last day of the seventh year; the King and his subjects had made great preparations for the reception of the returning Princess and her hero. Towards evening the King and his peers were looking anxiously from the seven towers of the city wall. The sun was just going down, when a flash as of lightning was seen on the western horizon, and in the twinkling of an eye Bedik and the maiden reached the city gate on the back of their fiery steed. They were received amid the wild acclamations of the crowd, and were led to the King’s palace. There they knelt before the King and told their story. The King blessed them, and for forty days and forty nights the wedding feast was celebrated.They attained their wish. May Heaven grant that you may attain your wishes!Three apples fell from heaven; one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.
Have you ever seen the plains in the morning — a June morning, when the spurred lark soars and sings — when the plover calls, and the curlew pipes his shriller notes to the rising sun? Then is there music, indeed, for no bird outsings the spurred lark; and thanks to Old-man he is not wanting in numbers, either. The plains are wonderful then — more wonderful than they are at this season of the year; but at all times they beckon and hold one as in a spell, especially when they are backed or bordered by a snow-capped mountain range. Looking toward the east they are boundless, but on their western edge superb mountains rear themselves.All over this vast country the Indians roamed, following the great buffalo herds as did the wolves, and making their living with the bow and lance, since the horse came to them. In the very old days the “piskun” was used, and buffalo were enticed to follow a fantastically dressed man toward a cliff, far enough to get the herd moving in that direction, when the “buffalo-man” gained cover, and hidden Indians raised from their hiding places behind the animals, and drove them over the cliff, where they were killed in large numbers.Not until Cortez came with his cavalry from Spain, were there horses on this continent, and then generations passed ere the plains tribes possessed this valuable animal, that so materially changed their lives. Dogs dragged the Indian’s travois or packed his household goods in the days before the horse came, and for hundreds — perhaps thousands of years, these people had no other means of trans-porting their goods and chattels. As the Indian is slow to forget or change the ways of his father, we should pause before we brand him as wholly improvident, I think.He has always been a family-man, has the Indian, and small children had to be carried, as well as his camp equipage. Wolf-dogs had to be fed, too, in some way, thus adding to his burden; for it took a great many to make it possible for him to travel at all.When the night came and we visited War Eagle, we found he had other company — so we waited until their visit was ended before settling ourselves to hear the story that he might tell us.“The Crows have stolen some of our best horses,” said War Eagle, as soon as the other guests had gone. “That is all right — we shall get them back, and more, too. The Crows have only borrowed those horses and will pay for their use with others of their own. To-night I shall tell you why the Mountain lion is so long and thin and why he wears hair that looks singed. I shall also tell you why that person’s nose is black, because it is part of the story.“A long time ago the Mountain-lion was a short, thick-set person. I am sure you didn’t guess that. He was always a great thief like Old-man, but once he went too far, as you shall see.“One day Old-man was on a hilltop, and saw smoke curling up through the trees, away off on the far side of a gulch. ‘Ho!’ he said, ‘I wonder who builds fires except me. I guess I will go and find out.’“He crossed the gulch and crept carefully toward the smoke. When he got quite near where the fire was, he stopped and listened. He heard some loud laughing but could not see who it was that felt so glad and gay. Finally he crawled closer and peeked through the brush toward the fire. Then he saw some Squirrel-people, and they were playing some sort of game. They were running and laughing, and having a big time, too. What do you think they were doing? They were running about the fire — all chasing one Squirrel. As soon as the Squirrel was caught, they would bury him in the ashes near the fire until he cried; then they would dig him out in a hurry. Then another Squirrel would take the lead and run until he was caught, as the other had been. In turn the captive would submit to being buried, and so on — while the racing and laughing continued. They never left the buried one in the ashes after he cried, but always kept their promise and dug him out, right away.“‘Say, let me play, won’t you?’ asked Old-man. But the Squirrel-people all ran away, and he had a hard time getting them to return to the fire.“‘You can’t play this game,’ replied the Chief-Squirrel, after they had returned to the fire.“‘Yes, I can,’ declared Old-man, ‘and you may bury me first, but be sure to dig me out when I cry, and not let me burn, for those ashes are hot near the fire.’“‘All right,’ said the Chief-Squirrel, ‘we will let you play. Lie down,’ — and Old-Man did lie down near the fire. Then the Squirrels began to laugh and bury Old-man in the ashes, as they did their own kind. In no time at all Old-man cried: ‘Ouch! — you are burning me — quick! — dig me out.’“True to their promise, the Squirrel-people dug Old-man out of the ashes, and laughed at him because he cried so quickly.“‘Now, it is my turn to cover the captive,’ said Old-man, ‘and as there are so many of you, I have a scheme that will make the game funnier and shorter. All of you lie down at once in a row. Then I will cover you all at one time. When you cry — I will dig you out right away and the game will be over.’“They didn’t know Old-man very well; so they said, ‘all right,’ and then they all laid down in a row about the fire.“Old-man buried them all in the ashes — then he threw some more wood on the fire and went away and left them. Every Squirrel there was in the world was buried in the ashes except one woman Squirrel, and she told Old-man she couldn’t play and had to go home. If she hadn’t gone, there might not be any Squirrels in this world right now. Yes, it is lucky that she went home.“For a minute or so Old-man watched the fire as it grew hotter, and then went down to a creek where willows grew and made himself a great plate by weaving them together. When he had finished making the plate, he returned to the fire, and it had burned low again. He laughed at his wicked work, and a Raven, flying over just then, called him ‘forked-tongue,’ or liar, but he didn’t mind that at all. Old-man cut a long stick and began to dig out the Squirrel-people. One by one he fished them out of the hot ashes; and they were roasted fine and were ready to eat. As he fished them out he counted them, and laid them on the willow plate he had made. When he had dug out the last one, he took the plate to the creek and there sat down to eat the Squirrels, for he was hungry, as usual. Old-man is a big eater, but he couldn’t eat all of the Squirrels at once, and while eating he fell asleep with the great plate in his lap.“Nobody knows how long it was that he slept, but when he waked his plate of Squirrels was gone — gone completely. He looked behind him; he looked about him; but the plate was surely gone. Ho! But he was angry. He stamped about in the brush and called aloud to those who might hear him; but nobody answered, and then he started to look for the thief. Old-man has sharp eyes, and he found the trail in the grass where somebody had passed while he slept. ‘Ho!’ he said, ‘the Mountain-lion has stolen my Squirrels. I see his footprints; see where he has mashed the grass as he walked with those soft feet of his; but I shall find him, for I made him and know all his ways.’“Old-man got down on his hands and knees to walk as the Bear-people do, just as he did that night in the Sun’s lodge, and followed the trail of the Mountain-lion over the hills and through the swamps. At last he came to a place where the grass was all bent down, and there he found his willow plate, but it was empty. That was the place where the Mountain-lion had stopped to eat the rest of the Squirrels, you know; but he didn’t stay there long because he expected that Old-man would try to follow him.“The Mountain-lion had eaten so much that he was sleepy and, after travelling a while after he had eaten the Squirrels, he thought he would rest. He hadn’t intended to go to sleep; but he crawled upon a big stone near the foot of a hill and sat down where he could see a long way. Here his eyes began to wink, and his head began to nod, and finally he slept.“Without stopping once, Old-man kept on the trail. That is what counts — sticking right to the thing you are doing — and just before sundown Old-man saw the sleeping Lion. Carefully, lest he wake the sleeper, Old-man crept close, being particular not to move a stone or break a twig; for the Mountain-lion is much faster than men are, you see; and if Old-man had wakened the Lion, he would never have caught him again, perhaps. Little by little he crept to the stone where the Mountain-lion was dreaming, and at last grabbed him by the tail. It wasn’t much of a tail then, but enough for Old-man to hold to. Ho! The Lion was scared and begged hard, saying:“‘Spare me, Old-man. You were full and I was hungry. I had to have something to eat; had to get my living. Please let me go and do not hurt me.’ Ho! Old-man was angry — more angry than he was when he waked and found that he had been robbed, because he had travelled so far on his hands and knees.“‘I’ll show you. I’ll teach you. I’ll fix you, right now. Steal from me, will you? Steal from the man that made you, you night-prowling rascal!’“Old-man put his foot behind the Mountain-lion’s head, and, still holding the tail, pulled hard and long, stretching the Lion out to great length. He squalled and cried, but Old-man kept pulling until he nearly broke the Mountain-lion in two pieces — until he couldn’t stretch him any more. Then Old-man put his foot on the Mountain-lion’s back, and, still holding the tail, stretched that out until the tail was nearly as long as the body.“‘There, you thief — now you are too long and lean to get fat, and you shall always look just like that. Your children shall all grow to look the same way, just to pay you for your stealing from the man that made you. Come on with me’; and he dragged the poor Lion back to the place where the fire was, and there rolled him in the hot ashes, singeing his robe till it looked a great deal like burnt hair. Then Old-man stuck the Lion’s nose against the burnt logs and blackened it some — that is why his face looks as it does to-day.“The Mountain-lion was lame and sore, but Old-man scolded him some more and told him that it would take lots more food to keep him after that, and that he would have to work harder to get his living, to pay for what he had done. Then he said, ‘go now, and remember all the Mountain-lions that ever live shall look just as you do.’ And they do, too!“That is the story — that is why the Mountain-lion is so long and lean, but he is no bigger thief than Old-man, nor does he tell any more lies. Ho!”
Once upon a time there was a boy called Jolly Calle who was always as happy as happy could be.He was a poor boy and quite alone in the world, for he had lost both his father and mother. If anyone pitied him on account of this misfortune he would answer:“Well, at any rate I had a father and mother once, and I remember them both quite well. I remember being whipped by my father, and my mother wiping away my tears and kissing me. I am quite sure they are both in heaven now, for all the loving care they gave me here on earth, and I ought not to wish my parents back again out of heaven, ought I ? Just think of those who can’t remember ever having set eyes on their parents ! You may be sorry for them if you like!” And then Calle would laugh.When it rained Calle was always in the best of spirits.“There is nothing so merry as the rain,” he would say. “Look at all the funny little drops sparkling and hopping about, and one gets so nice and wet all over too ! ‘In stormy weather he would laugh, and let the wind catch him in the back and send him flying along the road.“I say, what fun ! ‘ he would say. “Now I am travelling by train for nothing!” But when the sun shone Jolly Calle would smile quietly.“Ah, the Lord be praised for his glorious sunshine! ” he would say. ” Is it not too lovely for anything to feel just as if a bit of blue sky and sunshine had crept into your heart ? ”Jolly Calle had never been taught any trade, for his parents had never been able to afford it; neither could he play on any instrument, and as for learning, he had none at all. He did not want to starve, still less to beg, so he took an old shoe- brush and polished up his shoes, for he was determined to go out into the world to try his fortune; and when he saw how his shoes shone it occurred to him that there were indeed many pairs of shoes in the world which might require brushing, so he stuffed his brush into his pocket and went forth along the high road which led out into the wide world.When he had gone a little way he came to a field where the waving corn was already standing high.It was so lovely to look upon that Calle turned aside into a narrow path, which ran like a ribbonthrough the corn-field, and as he went along he drew an ear ok wheat between his fingers andsang :“Just look upon my corn-fields, see ! for me there’ll be no lack ;In winter time such piles of loaves will make the ovencrack.”“What are you shouting, you noisy fellow?’ called out a gruff voice behind him. It was the farmer who owned the field. “Your corn-field, indeed,” he said angrily. “It is I who have ploughed and sown, and it is I who will reap the corn, and grind the flour, and eat the bread, not a crumb of which shall you taste ! ‘“I am not talking of bread, I am talking of the corn-field,” said Jolly Calle, taking off his cap to the harsh old man ; “and I still think, for the present at any rate, the corn-field belongs to me. You have had the trouble of ploughing and sowing it, and I am much obliged to you, for now I can dance right through it and see waves chase each other over the rippling corn, and that doesn’t cost a farthing.” And so sayinghe ran off.After walking all day he came towards evening to a big town, upon entering which he stationed himself at a street corner with his shoe-brush and waited to see if any of the passers-by would ask him to brush the dust off their shoes, but they all seemed to have much too much to think of, and went hastily by without so much as turning their heads.“Perhaps in this case it would be just as well to give them a gentle reminder,” thought he; and as a soldier happened to pass just at that very moment, Jolly Calle spat upon his brush and said in a tone as if the colonel himself were commanding :“Shoes brushed?’The soldier halted on the spot and let Calle polish his top-boots. Then a little damsel came tripping along, so neat and trim.“What a nice little pair of feet!’ said Calle softly behind her back. ” The only pity is they should go about in such dirty shoes.” Thereupon the little damsel turned round, stretched out her foot, and let Calle black her shoes.Next a scholar came walking by who seemed neither to hear nor see.“So the gentleman would like his shoes brushed said Calle, and fell upon his knees right in front of the learned man’s legs, and in the same absent-minded way as he had been walking before the scholar now as absent-mindedly stood still and let Calle brush his boots.Thus Calle had a word for every one who passed by, and as he received a trifle from all those whose boots he brushed he soon had his pocket full of pence.Then he brushed his own shoes once more till they shone like a black-a-moor’s skin; as they were the only elegance he possessed he thought he might afford himself that little piece of vanity. Then he set his red cap jauntily on one side and went on to see something of the town which pleased him mightily ; there were so many magnificent buildings and fine mansions, but there was one mansion more beautiful than all the rest.It stood with its pillars and statues and stately staircases in the middle of a rose garden and was surrounded by a railing with gilded lance-heads running all around the top.“My eye!” said Jolly Calle, as he stood grasping the railings and looking in upon the stately mansion. “This is something like! This house of mine is certainly far and away the finest in the whole town.”“What is this nonsense you are talking?’ asked a haughty footman, who was standing stiff as a marionette at the entrance. “Your house, indeed ! This mansion belongs to the richest man in the town, Master Nabob. It cost a hundred thousand pounds just as it stands.”“That was a mighty deal of money,” said Calle, scratching his ear. “If Master Nabob has had such a lot of expense on my account I am really greatly obliged to him. Give him my compliments and tell him I am extremely pleased.”“You are certainly a little queer in the head,” said the lackey. ” Master Nabob built this mansion for his honour’s own gracious satisfaction and pleasure. He has, I assure you, never even heard of you, or done anything whatever just to please you.”“That maybe,” answered Calle, “but all the same he has had all the trouble and all the expense, whereas I have nothing but the pleasure of seeing how fine and elegant it all is. I suppose we may be allowed to look at the house at any rate.”But the lackey did not reply, he turned on his heel and walked away with a dignified air. After standing awhile, gazing in at the palace and sniffing up the scent of the roses, Jolly Calle went on further till he came at last to a big market-place where vendors of fruit and vegetables were selling their wares.Here all was life and bustle. A big fountain was playing in the middle of the square, and all around it the market people had set up their stalls in long rows and spread their awnings, for the sun was burning hot.Here there were baskets full of the finest pears and apples and whole barrows full of yellow plums and ripe peaches. Big purple grapes lay upon green leaves between golden melons and red cherries, and alongside the fruit were masses of sweet-scented flowers, roses and clove pinks, mignonette and stocks.Jolly Calle expanded his nostrils and opened his mouth wide to take in as much as ever he could of all these delicious scents, and then buying a handful of plums he leaned against a stall to eat them. Whilst he stood there he watched the customers coming and going between the stalls.These were mostly dames and damsels of high degree followed by their serving-women carrying the baskets. They would stand now at this stall now at that, picking and choosing and filling their baskets with all the things they liked best.Beside Calle stood a number of other lads, who like him had also bought fruit and were busy eating, taking stock meanwhile of all the pretty maids who tripped along to make their bargains.Suddenly Calle heard them whisper: “Here she comes, here she comes.” And out from amongstthe stalls stepped the most beautiful damsel.She was dressed in a red silk petticoat and a green velvet bodice embroidered with silver. Onher head she wore a black veil, and in her hand she carried a large fan covered with silver spangles,with which she kept fanning herself. But if her clothes were beautiful, she herself was more beautiful still, and she stepped along like a queen, smiling and nodding in every direction.“What do you say to her ? ‘ asked the lad standing beside Calle, giving him a poke in the ribs. “Have you ever seen anyone so beautiful before? We call her the crown jewel, for she has not her match anywhere. But such poor fellows as you or I will never have so much as the honour of tying her shoe laces.”“We shall see,” thought Calle, and just as the lovely lady was passing close beside him he fell on his knees and called out:“My lady, my lady! there is dust on your shoes!” before she could answer he had whipped out his brush and had begun to polish one of her shoes. She lifted the hem of her skirt a little and put forward first one foot and then the other, and when she saw how bright and shining her shoes were she smiled graciouslyand patted Calle on the shoulder.“You are a treasure of a lad,” she said. “See how nice and bright you have made my shoes!”And then she passed on.“Did you see ?’ said Calle, turning to the boy at his side; I not only tied her shoe laces, but I even polished her shoes, and she patted me on the shoulder into the bargain and called me a treasure of a lad.”“Oh, well!” said the other, “it is true you have knelt in the dirt at her feet, but you need not think you will sit beside her as her bridegroom; that you will never do.”“Nor do I want to either,” said Calle. “Do you think that she who wears silver brocade and has the eyes of the whole town upon her would be an easy customer to deal with ? No, indeed! such a crown jewel I have no wish to possess. But I grant you, beautiful she is to look at and no mistake! Her eyelashes threw quite a shadow across my hands, and never have I seen such beautiful eyebrows or such white teeth;why, they looked sound enough to bite off the head of a nail!” And so saying Calle walkedoff.When he had been a day or two in the town he had a mind to go on further into the world, so he started off along the highway. After a time he came to an inn. Here he went in and asked for a bowl of curds and whey, for he was thirsty after his long tramp.He was given a seat near the door, and whilst he sat and waited for the curds he looked about him.Outside on the high road stood six wagons drawn by oxen, and over the waggons were spread leather coverings, beneath which were rows and rows of sacks.“Whom do all those waggons belong to?’ Jolly Calle asked the boy who set down the curdsbefore him.“They belong to Master Nabob,” answered the boy; and “Master Nabob himself is sitting over there in the best seat, eating fruit soup out of a silver bowl.” Calle looked up towards the upper end of the room, and there sure enough sat Master Nabob himself.He wore white breeches trimmed with gold braid and a red frock-coat covered with ever so many orders and medals which he had received for well, nobody knew exactly why he had received them ! He was eating prunes as large as mice and drinking sweet wine, but he looked as if he were swallowing the most bitter physic. His complexion was pale green, his cheeks sunken, and you would have thought by the look in his eyes that he had just been told something most disagreeable.Meanwhile Jolly Calle sat shovelling the curds into his mouth with a wooden spoon, and with every mouthful he swallowed he patted his stomach and said :” Well, that was wonderful, that was wonderful!”Then Master Nabob looked up from his fruit soup and asked: “What is wonderful? ‘“Only this, your honour, that never in all my life has anything tasted so sour or so good asthese curds and whey here.”“Would you not prefer my fruit soup with prunes ? ‘ asked Nabob.“Dear me, no!’ answered Calle; “for if you eat something very sour you can always be ready for something sweet afterwards, but if you eat something very sweet, then you might feel you have had too much of a good thing.”“You are no fool,” said Nabob.When they had finished eating and had risen from the table they each gave something to the boy who had waited on them. Nabob gave him a very small coin and Jolly Calle one somewhat bigger.“H’m, you are a rich fellow, you are,” said Nabob, glaring at Calle.“No, indeed, but after those sour curds I couldn’t stand the sight of such a sour look as the one you’ve just had from the serving-boy,” answered Calle.“Nothing pleased him.” Illustration by Charles Folkard, published in Jolly Calle and Other Swedish Fairy Tales by Helena Nyblom (1912), J.M. Dent and SonsAfter dinner they both sat in the garden of the inn. Master Nabob ordered out for himself any number of bottles with good drinks, and black coffee and tobacco, and then he stretched his legs in their white gold-braided breeches upon a chair in front of him and prepared to enjoy life. But one drink was too strong, another was too weak, and the coffee too had a poor flavour, which made Master Nabob turn green in the face with annoyance. Neither was the tobacco to his liking; in short, nothing pleased him, and he kept calling to the serving-men and ordering them about till they flew like frightened hens backwards and forwards between the box hedges.Jolly Calle had seated himself in an arbour, where the white jasmine was in full flower, and a lime-tree afforded him welcome shade. He ordered a mug of ale, lighted his short pipe, and sat with his elbows on the table looking up through the leaves of the trees at the blue summer sky, and he felt so merry and jolly that he began to laugh aloud. When Master Nabob heard him laughing from where he sat surrounded by all his bottles, he sent a lad to Calle to ask him if he was sitting there laughing at him, for if so, he wasnot going to put up with that.“My compliments to Master Nabob!” answered Calle, “and tell him I don’t think he is at all amusing.”After a while Calle began to laugh again, for the sunshine was so bright and the sky so blue he simply could not help himself.“What in the name of fortune is the fellow laughing at ?” yelled Nabob. “Go and ask him why he is laughing; it plagues me.”When the serving-lad came again with Master Nabob’s message, Calle replied:“My compliments to Master Nabob, and tell him I am not laughing at anything.” With this answer the rich man had to be content; but in a short space Calle completely forgot his sour neighbour and began again to chuckle and chuckle till he was simply bubbling over with laughter.“I can’t stand this,” shouted Nabob, “I won’t stand this ! Go and tell that fellow he annoys me. Tell him he shall have a thaler from me if he will only stop laughing.”Now when the lad brought this message Jolly Calle became really angry. He flung the thaler down till it rang upon the table.“If I cannot sit here in peace I shall not stay. I shall take myself off, and that without more ado. The high road at any rate is free to every one.” And so saying he strode out of the garden.It was a warm day, and after he had walked on some distance he heard a great rumbling of wheelson the high road behind him. It was Master Nabob coming along in his gilded coach, and followed by his six ox- wagons laden with all his money.When Nabob caught sight of Calle he beckoned to him, and calling to his coachman to stop he asked Calle if he would care to drive with him.No, indeed ! Calle did not care at all. On such a beautiful day he much preferred to walk along the road-side and sniff the scent of the new-mown hay in the meadows and listen to the larks singing than sit in a stuffy coach with an old man who smelt of dinner and wine. And this he said right out, whereupon Master Nabob smiled a sour smile. Then all at once a new notion came into Nabob’s head. He began to scold and abuse the coachman for not stopping quickly enough, although the carriage was going already at a funeral pace. Then he opened the door of the coach very carefully, and after he had been helpedout by his footman he asked Calle in a really polite tone if he would allow him to accompany him a short way along the road and let him have the honour of leaning on his arm.“With all my heart,” answered Calle, who could not for the life of him understand what thisall meant.Nabob gave his coachman orders to drive on and wait for him at the edge of the wood, and then he walked on along the road, leaning on his gold-topped mahogany walking stick, with his arm through Calle’s.“My dear friend,” began Nabob, ” I have a great desire to make your further acquaintance.”“Oh, by all means,” answered Calle, ” that is easily done.”Nabob fixed his green eyes upon him. ” A strange thing! “he muttered; “A strange thing! I have never in my life seen anyone like you.”“That’s very odd,” answered Calle. “I always thought there were thirteen to the dozen of my sort.”“H’m ! ‘ said Nabob. ” I saw you first when I was sitting behind my green silk curtains, and you were standing at the gate looking in at my mansion. You were not a bit envious, I remember ! ‘“Why should I be,” answered Calle. “You have all the trouble and the expense of the house, and I have nothing but the pleasure of looking at it, so it is easy to understand which of us is the happier.”“I had fruit soup with prunes while you ate curds with a wooden spoon,” continued Nabob, “and you would not change places with me.”“No, truly, seeing you did not relish it,” replied Calle, “I had no need to envy you.”“And there I sat surrounded by all those bottles of mine,” said Nabob, his voice trembling, “yellow bottles, red bottles, green bottles, strong black coffee and big cigars, and I could not endure to hear you laugh. As you sat there with your mug of ale and your clay pipe, under the lime tree, I felt envious for the first time in my life, so envious that it gave me quite a pain in my chest.  You see, Calle I presume I may call you Calle? You see I have everything in the world that a man can desire, and yet I am never happy.I have a house and gardens, woods and broad acres, servants and horses, and a great pile of gold, yet it feels as empty inside me as in an old sack. When I travel I must always take my gold with me. I drive in a gilded coach with six ox- wagons full of money behind me, but when I hear the rumbling of all those waggons it irritates me so I feel positively ill. I can procure all that man can buy for money, and up to now I thought money could buy everything. But when you who are so poor would not stop laughing fora whole thaler, well, then indeed a strange feeling came over me and I began to think, Is there reallysomething one cannot buy for money?”“Can you buy sunshine for money?” asked Calle. “Can you buy health for money? Can you buy good temper for money?”“That’s it, that’s it!” burst out Nabob, showing all his shaky old teeth. “Good temper! that’s what you possess, and it is just that which I must and will have a share of, at all costs.”“And what will you give me for it?” asked Calle laughing.“You shall have a hundred thalers a thousand thalers! You shall have one of my ox-waggons full of gold!”“That is not enough,” said Calle. “You are offering poor pay.”“Let us say three wagons then,” said Nabob, with a sigh, “three ox-wagons full of money for a little bit of good temper.”“Poor pay, poor pay!” answered Calle.“Then take four five!” groaned Nabob; “I must have your good temper, cost what it may.”They had now reached the edge of the wood, where the gilded coach and the ox-wagons loaded with money stood waiting.“Calle, my good fellow!’ said Nabob, “you shall have all my six ox-wagons, my gilded coach, and those rogues of a coachman and footman into the bargain all, all shall be yours, if only, my dear lad, you will let me have your good temper!”“No, I cannot,” said Calle, “I really cannot. To turn sick at the sight of God’s good gifts, to feel pain in your inside at the rumbling of your wagons full of treasure no, that I could not stand at any price! But see how dusty your fine patent-leather shoes have got from walking along the high road! Put your foot on a stone and I will brush them for you.”So Nabob put up first one foot and then the other upon a stone, and Calle brushed his shoes till they shone.“What have I to pay?” said Nabob, feeling for his purse with a trembling hand.“Oh, nothing ! nothing at all ! ” answered Calle. “Rich folk cannot afford to pay for such trifles.”“Just tell me one thing before you go,” begged Nabob. His yellow face had become still yellower.“Tell me this one thing, my dear Calle. Why are you so happy?”“Why am I so happy?’ Calle repeated with a laugh. “Why, just because I am alive you see!” And so saying he hopped over the stile, waved his red cap, and disappeared, hidden like a strawberry in the wood.But Nabob remained standing beside his ox- wagons, with his purse still open in his hand.“He has gone,” he said blankly. “Just imagine, he has actually gone!”
If you were a Russian child you would not watch to see Santa Klaus come down the chimney; but you would stand by the windows to catch a peep at poor Babouscka as she hurries by.Who is Babouscka? Is she Santa Klaus’ wife?No, indeed. She is only a poor little crooked wrinkled old woman, who comes at Christmas time into everybody’s house, who peeps into every cradle, turns back every coverlid, drops a tear on the baby’s white pillow, and goes away very sorrowful.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Christmas fairy tales, in our collection Christmas Tales: The Night Before Christmas and 21 Other Illustrated Christmas Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle}And not only at Christmas time, but through all the cold winter, and especially in March, when the wind blows loud, and whistles and howls and dies away like a sigh, the Russian children hear the rustling step of the Babouscka. She is always in a hurry. One hears her running fast along the crowded streets and over the quiet country fields. She seems to be out of breath and tired, yet she hurries on.Whom is she trying to overtake?She scarcely looks at the little children as they press their rosy faces against the window pane and whisper to each other, “Is the Babouscka looking for us?”No, she will not stop; only on Christmas eve will she come up-stairs into the nursery and give each little one a present. You must not think she leaves handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you. She does not bring bicycles to the boys or French dolls to the girls. She does not come in a gay little sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, and she leans on a crutch. She has her old apron filled with candy and cheap toys, and the children all love her dearly. They watch to see her come, and when one hears a rustling, he cries, “Lo! the Babouscka!” then all others look, but one must turn one’s head very quickly or she vanishes. I never saw her myself.Best of all, she loves little babies, and often, when the tired mothers sleep, she bends over their cradles, puts her brown, wrinkled face close down to the pillow and looks very sharply.What is she looking for?Ah, that you can’t guess unless you know her sad story.Long, long ago, a great many yesterdays ago, the Babouscka, who was even then an old woman, was busy sweeping her little hut. She lived in the coldest corner of cold Russia, and she lived alone in a lonely place where four wide roads met. These roads were at this time white with snow, for it was winter time. In the summer, when the fields were full of flowers and the air full of sunshine and singing birds, Babouscka’s home did not seem so very quiet; but in the winter, with only the snow-flakes and the shy snow-birds and the loud wind for company, the little old woman felt very cheerless. But she was a busy old woman, and as it was already twilight, and her home but half swept, she felt in a great hurry to finish her work before bed-time. You must know the Babouscka was poor and could not afford to do her work by candle-light.Presently, down the widest and the lonesomest of the white roads, there appeared a long train of people coming. They were walking slowly, and seemed to be asking each other questions as to which way they should take. As the procession came nearer, and finally stopped outside the little hut, Babouscka was frightened at the splendor. There were Three Kings, with crowns on their heads, and the jewels on the Kings’ breastplates sparkled like sunlight. Their heavy fur cloaks were white with the falling snow-flakes, and the queer humpy camels on which they rode looked white as milk in the snow-storm. The harness on the camels was decorated with gold, and plates of silver adorned the saddles. The saddlecloths were of the richest Eastern stuffs, and all the servants had the dark eyes and hair of an Eastern people.The slaves carried heavy loads on their backs, and each of the Three Kings carried a present. One carried a beautiful transparent jar, and in the fading light Babouscka could see in it a golden liquid which she knew from its color must be myrrh. Another had in his hand a richly woven bag, and it seemed to be heavy, as indeed it was, for it was full of gold. The third had a stone vase in his hand, and from the rich perfume which filled the snowy air, one could guess the vase to have been filled with incense.Babouscka was terribly frightened, so she hid herself in her hut, and let the servants knock a long time at her door before she dared open it and answer their questions as to the road they should take to a far-away town. You know she had never studied a geography lesson in her life, was old and stupid and scared. She knew the way across the fields to the nearest village, but she knew nothing else of all the wide world full of cities. The servants scolded, but the Three Kings spoke kindly to her, and asked her to accompany them on their journey that she might show them the way as far as she knew it. They told her, in words so simple that she could not fail to understand, that they had seen a Star in the sky and were following it to a little town where a young Child lay. The snow was in the sky now, and the Star was lost out of sight.“Who is the Child?” asked the old woman.“He is a King, and we go to worship him,” they answered. “These presents of gold, frankincense and myrrh are for Him. When we find Him we will take the crowns off our heads and lay them at His feet. Come with us, Babouscka!”What do you suppose? Shouldn’t you have thought the poor little woman would have been glad to leave her desolate home on the plains to accompany these Kings on their journey?But the foolish woman shook her head. No, the night was dark and cheerless, and her little home was warm and cosy. She looked up into the sky, and the Star was nowhere to be seen. Besides, she wanted to put her hut in order—perhaps she would be ready to go to-morrow. But the Three Kings could not wait; so when to-morrow’s sun rose they were far ahead on their journey. It seemed like a dream to poor Babouscka, for even the tracks of the camels’ feet were covered by the deep white snow. Everything was the same as usual; and to make sure that the night’s visitors had not been a fancy, she found her old broom hanging on a peg behind the door, where she had put it when the servants knocked.Now that the sun was shining, and she remembered the glitter of the gold and the smell of the sweet gums and myrrh, she wished she had gone with the travellers.And she thought a great deal about the little Baby the Three Kings had gone to worship. She had no children of her own—nobody loved her—ah, if she had only gone! The more she brooded on the thought, the more miserable she grew, till the very sight of her home became hateful to her.It is a dreadful feeling to realize that one has lost a chance of happiness. There is a feeling called remorse that can gnaw like a sharp little tooth. Babouscka felt this little tooth cut into her heart every time she remembered the visit of the Three Kings.After a while the thought of the Little Child became her first thought at waking and her last at night. One day she shut the door of her house forever, and set out on a long journey. She had no hope of overtaking the Three Kings, but she longed to find the Child, that she too might love and worship Him. She asked every one she met, and some people thought her crazy, but others gave her kind answers. Have you perhaps guessed that the young Child whom the Three Kings sought was our Lord himself?People told Babouscka how He was born in a manger, and many other things which you children have learned long ago. These answers puzzled the old dame mightily. She had but one idea in her ignorant head. The Three Kings had gone to seek a Baby. She would, if not too late, seek Him too.She forgot, I am sure, how many long years had gone by. She looked in vain for the Christ-child in His manger-cradle. She spent all her little savings in toys and candy so as to make friends with little children, that they might not run away when she came hobbling into their nurseries.Now you know for whom she is sadly seeking when she pushes back the bed-curtains and bends down over each baby’s pillow. Sometimes, when the old grandmother sits nodding by the fire, and the bigger children sleep in their beds, old Babouscka comes hobbling into the room, and whispers softly, “Is the young Child here?”Ah, no; she has come too late, too late. But the little children know her and love her. Two thousand years ago she lost the chance of finding Him. Crooked, wrinkled, old, sick and sorry, she yet lives on, looking into each baby’s face—always disappointed, always seeking. Will she find Him at last?
There lived a hunter in the North, who had a wife and one child. His lodge stood far off in the forest, several days’ journey from any other. He spent his days in hunting, and his evenings in relating to his wife the incidents that had befallen him. As game was very abundant, he found no difficulty in killing as much as they wanted. Just in all his acts, he lived a peaceful and happy life.One evening during the winter season, it chanced that he remained out longer than usual, and his wife began to fear that some accident had befallen him. It was already dark. She listened attentively, and at last heard the sound of approaching footsteps.Not doubting that it was her husband, she went to the door and beheld two strange females. She bade them enter, and invited them to remain. She observed that they were total strangers in the country. There was something so peculiar in their looks, air and manner, that she was disturbed by their presence. They would not come near to the fire. They sat in a remote part of the lodge, shy and taciturn, and drew their garments about them in such a manner as nearly to hide their faces. So far as she could judge, they were pale, hollow-eyed, and long-visaged, very thin and emaciated.There was but little light in the lodge, as the fire was low, and its fitful flashes, by disclosing their white faces and then dropping them in sudden darkness, served rather to increase than to dispel her fears.“Merciful Spirit!” cried a voice from the opposite part of the lodge; “there are two corpses clothed with garments!”The hunter’s wife turned around, but seeing nobody save her little child, staring across from under his blanket, she said to herself, “The boy can not speak; the sounds were but the gusts of wind.” She trembled, and was ready to sink to the earth.Her husband at this moment entered, and in some measure relieved her alarm. He threw down the carcass of a large fat deer.“Behold what a fine and fat animal!” cried the mysterious females; and they immediately ran and pulled off pieces of the whitest fat, which they greedily devoured.The hunter and his wife looked on with astonishment, but remained silent. They supposed that their guests might have been stricken with famine.The next day, however, the same unusual conduct was repeated. The strange females again tore off the fat and devoured it with eagerness. The third day, the hunter thought that he would anticipate their wants by tying up a share of the hunt, and placing it apart for their express use. They accepted it, but still appeared dissatisfied, and went to the wife’s portion and tore off more.The hunter and his wife were surprised at such rude and unaccountable conduct, but they remained silent, for they respected their guests, and had observed that they had been attended with marked good luck during the sojourn of these mysterious visitors in their lodge.In other respects, the deportment of the females was strictly unexceptionable. They were modest, distant, and silent. They never uttered a word during the day. At night they would occupy themselves in procuring wood, which they carried to the lodge, and then, restoring the implements exactly where they had found them, resume their places without speaking. They were never known to stay out until daylight. They never laughed or jested.The winter was nearly passed away, when, one evening, the hunter was abroad later than usual. The moment he came in and laid down his day’s hunt, as was his custom, before his wife, the two females seized upon the deer and began to tear off the fat in so unceremonious a way that her anger was excited. She constrained herself, however, in a good degree, but she could not conceal her feelings, though she said but little.The strange guests observed the state of her mind, and they became uneasy, and withdrew further still into the remote gloom of the lodge. The good hunter saw the eclipse that was darkening the quiet of his lodge, and carefully inquired of its cause; but his wife denied having used any words of complaining or reproach.They retired to their couches, and the hunter tried to compose himself to sleep, but could not, for the sighs and sobs of the two females were incessant. He arose on his couch and addressed them as follows:“Tell me,” said he, “what is it that gives you pain of mind and causes you to bemoan your presence here. Has my wife given you offense, or trespassed upon the rights of hospitality?”They replied in the negative. “We have been treated by you with kindness and affection. It is not for any slight we have received that we weep. Our mission is not to you only. We come from the other land to test mankind, and to try the sincerity of the living. Often we have heard the bereaved by death say that if the lost could be restored, they would devote their lives to make them happy. We have been moved by the bitter lamentations which have reached the place of the departed, and have come to make proof of the sincerity of those who have lost friends. We are your two dead sisters. Three moons were allotted us by the Master of Life to make the trial. More than half the time had been successfully passed, when the angry feelings of your wife indicated the irksomeness you felt at our presence, and has made us resolve on our departure.”They continued to talk to the hunter and his wife, gave them instructions as to a future life, and pronounced a blessing upon them.“There is one point,” they added, “of which we wish to speak. You have thought our conduct very strange and rude in possessing ourselves of the choicest parts of your hunt. That was the point of trial selected to put you to. It is the wife’s peculiar privilege. You love your wife. For another to usurp what belongs to her, we know to be the severest test of her goodness of heart, and consequently of your temper and feelings. We knew your manners and customs, but we came to prove you, not by complying with but by violating them. Pardon us. We are the agents of him who sent us. Peace to your dwelling. Farewell!”When they ceased, total darkness filled the lodge. No object could be seen. The inmates heard the lodge-door open and shut, but they never saw more of the Two Spirits.The hunter found the success which they had promised. He became celebrated in the chase, and never wanted for any thing. He had many children, all of whom grew up to manhood; and he who had lain in the lodge, a little child, while the Jeebi dwelt there, led them in all good deeds, and health, peace, and long life were the rewards of the hunter’s hospitality.
In the western portion of the old capital city of Lo Yang there was a ruined cloister, in which stood an enormous pagoda, several hundred stories high. Three or four people could still find room to stand on its very top.Not far from it there lived a beautiful maiden, and one very hot summer’s day she was sitting in the courtyard of her home, trying to keep cool. And as she sat there a sudden cyclone came up and carried her off. When she opened her eyes, there she was on top of the pagoda, and beside her stood a young man in the dress of a student.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback. Listen to this story plus other great Chinese folktale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}He was very polite and affable, and said to her: “It seems as though heaven had meant to bring us together, and if you promise to marry me, we will be very happy.” But to this the maiden would not agree. So the student said that until she changed her mind she would have to remain on the pagoda-top. Then he produced bread and wine for her to satisfy her hunger and thirst, and disappeared.Thereafter he appeared each day and asked her whether she had changed her mind, and each day she told him she had not. When he went away he always carefully closed the openings in the pagoda-top with stones, and he had also removed some of the steps of the stairs, so that she could not climb down. And when he came to the pagoda-top he always brought her food and drink, and he also presented her with rouge and powder, dresses and mandarin-coats and all sorts of jewelry. He told her he had bought them in the market place. And he also hung up a great carbuncle-stone so that the pagoda-top was bright by night as well as by day. The maiden had all that heart could wish, and yet she was not happy.But one day when he went away he forgot to lock the window. The maiden spied on him without his knowing it, and saw that from a youth he turned himself into an ogre, with hair as red as madder and a face as black as coal. His eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, and his mouth looked like a dish full of blood. Crooked white fangs thrust themselves from his lips, and two wings grew from his shoulders. Spreading them, he flew down to earth and at once turned into a man again.The maiden was seized with terror and burst into tears. Looking down from her pagoda she saw a wanderer passing below. She called out, but the pagoda was so high that her voice did not carry down to him. She beckoned with her hand, but the wanderer did not look up. Then she could think of nothing else to do but to throw down the old clothes she had formerly worn. They fluttered through the air to the ground.The wanderer picked up the clothes. Then he looked up at the pagoda, and quite up at the very top he saw a tiny figure which looked like that of a girl; yet he could not make out her features. For a long time he wondered who it might be, but in vain. Then he saw a light.“My neighbor’s daughter,” said he to himself, “was carried away by a magic storm. Is it possible that she may be up there?”So he took the clothes with him and showed them to the maiden’s parents, and when they saw them they burst into tears.But the maiden had a brother, who was stronger and braver than any one for miles around. When the tale had been told him he took a heavy ax and went to the pagoda. There he hid himself in the tall grass and waited for what would happen. When the sun was just going down, along came a youth, tramping the hill. Suddenly he turned into an ogre, spread his wings and was about to fly. But the brother flung his ax at him and struck him on the arm. He began to roar loudly, and then fled to the western hills. But when the brother saw that it was impossible to climb the pagoda, he went back and enlisted the aid of several neighbors. With them he returned the following morning and they climbed up into the pagoda. Most of the steps of the stairway were in good condition for the ogre had only destroyed those at the top. But they were able to get up with a ladder, and then the brother fetched down his sister and brought her safely home again.And that was the end of the enchantment.Note: In this tale the ogre is a Yakscha or a Fe Tian Ya Tscha.
In Copake, New York, among the Berkshire Hills, less than a century ago, lived Francis Woolcott, a dark, tall man, with protruding teeth, whose sinister laugh used to give his neighbors a creep along their spines. He had no obvious trade or calling, but the farmers feared him so that he had no trouble in making levies: pork, flour, meal, cider, he could have what he chose for the asking, for had he not halted horses at the plow so that neither blows nor commands could move them for two hours? Had he not set farmer Raught’s pigs to walking on their hind legs and trying to talk? When he shouted “Hup! hup! hup!” to farmer Williams’s children, had they not leaped to the moulding of the parlor wainscot,—a yard above the floor and only an inch wide,—and walked around it, afterward skipping like birds from chair-back to chair-back, while the furniture stood as if nailed to the floor? And was he not the chief of thirteen night-riders, whose faces no man had seen, nor wanted to see, and whom he sent about the country on errands of mischief every night when the moon was growing old? As to moons, had he not found a mystic message from our satellite on Mount Riga, graven on a meteor?Horses’ tails were tied, hogs foamed at the mouth and walked like men, cows gave blood for milk. These night-riders met Woolcott in a grove of ash and chestnut trees, each furnished with a stolen bundle of oat straw, and these bundles Woolcott changed to black horses when the night had grown dark enough not to let the way of the change be seen. These horses could not cross streams of water, and on the stroke of midnight they fell to pieces and were oaten sheaves once more, but during their time of action they rushed through woods, bearing their riders safely, and tore like hurricanes across the fields, leaping bushes, fences, even trees, without effort. Never could traces be found of them the next day. At last the devil came to claim his own. Woolcott, who was ninety years old, lay sick and helpless in his cabin. Clergymen refused to see him, but two or three of his neighbors stifled their fears and went to the wizard’s house to soothe his dying moments. With the night came storm, and with its outbreak the old man’s face took on such a strange and horrible look that the watchers fell back in alarm. There was a burst of purple flame at the window, a frightful peal, a smell of sulphur, and Woolcott was dead. When the watchers went out the roads were dry, and none in the village had heard wind, rain, or thunder. It was the coming of the fiend.
Where it was, there it was, a certain village there was, in which lived a father with three sons. One of them was silly, and always sat in the chimney corner, but the other two were considered clever. One of these went out to service in a village not far off. His mother put on his back a wallet full of cakes baked under the ashes. He went into a house and made an engagement with the master upon the terms that whichever got angry first was to have his nose cut off. The servant went to thresh. He was not called by his master either to breakfast or to dinner. His master asked him: ‘Well, Mishek, are you angry?’ ‘What have I to be angry for?’Evening came, and supper was cooked; again they did not ask Mishek. His master asked him: ‘Well, Mishek, are you angry?’ ‘What have I to be angry for?’ He wasn’t angry, for the cakes from home still held out. But during the second and third day the wallet was emptied, and again he wasn’t summoned to dinner. His master asked him: ‘Mishek, are you not angry?’ ‘Wouldn’t even the devil be angry, when you are thus killing me with hunger?’Then his master pulled out a knife and cut off Mishek’s nose. He hastened home noseless, and complained to his father and brothers of his wicked master. ‘You simpleton!’ said the next brother, Pavko. ‘Stay, I’ll go! Hey, mother, bake some cakes under the ashes!’ Pavko started off and went straight to the same village and to the same house, and made an engagement with the same master, on the terms that whichever was the first to become angry was to have his nose cut off. They set him, too, to thresh for three days, but neither on the first, nor on the second, nor on the third day, did they call him to take a meal. ‘Pavko, are you not angry?’ ‘Wouldn’t even devils be angry with you? My belly has already grown to my backbone.’ Thereupon his master pulled out a knife and cut off Pavko’s nose. Pavko went home noseless, and said to his elder brother: ‘That’s a cruel house of entertainment; the devil’s got my nose.’ Then Adam, the youngest, shouted from the chimney-corner: ‘You are idiots! I’ll go, and you’ll see that I shall make a good job of it.’ He went with cakes baked under the ashes in his wallet, and hit right upon the same village in which his brothers had been, and engaged himself with the same master upon the terms that whichever got angry first should have his nose cut off. But Adam knew how to proceed intelligently.When his master didn’t call him to dinner, he went to the public-house with what he had threshed and pawned it all. His master came and didn’t see a grain of corn. Adam then asked him: ‘Master, are you angry?’ ‘Why should I be angry?’ This occurred several times, and his master always said that he wasn’t angry, for fear of losing his nose. Once there came a day on which the master and mistress were obliged to be from home, and they ordered Adam by their return to kill the first sheep that looked at him when he entered the stable, to dress it and boil it in a caldron, putting parsley with it. Adam went into the stable with great banging and noise, so that all the sheep looked at him at once, whereupon he slaughtered them all. One he dressed and put in the caldron, but instead of parsley he threw in a dog called by that name. His master and mistress came and asked Adam whether he had done everything properly?He said: ‘I’ve slaughtered the sheep and thrown Parsley into the caldron till I saw his feet. Now, master, are you angry?’ ‘What have I to be angry about?’ he replied, for he preferred keeping his nose. On Christmas Eve, when they had to go to church, it was very dark. Adam’s master said to him: ‘It would be a good thing if somebody would light us as far as the church.’ ‘Go! go! I’ll light you.’ He took fire and set the roof on fire, till the whole house was in flames. The master hurried up, and Adam said to him: ‘Master, are you angry?’ ‘Why should I be angry?’ said he; for his nose was dearer to him than his house.But what was he to do without a house, without everything? They went into the world, master, mistress, and servant. They wanted to put him to death; and planned together, that when he was asleep his master should throw him into the water. But Adam was up to this; he didn’t lie down on the side nearest the water, but got up in the night and threw his mistress, who was on that side, into the water. His master woke, and saw that his wife was gone; and began to cry out. But Adam asked him: ‘Well, master, are you angry?’ ‘Wouldn’t even the devil be angry, now that you’ve done me out of everything?’ Adam took a knife and cut off his master’s nose. He then took to his heels, went home, and said to his brothers: ‘Now you see, you wiseacres, that I’ve earned the nose.’
The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do,To gain their ends back foremost go.It is the rower’s art; and thoseCommanders who mislead their foes,Do often seem to aim their sightJust where they don’t intend to smite.My theme, so low, may yet applyTo one whose fame is very high,Who finds it not the hardest matterA hundred-headed league to scatter.What he will do, what leave undone,Are secrets with unbroken seals,Till victory the truth reveals.Whatever he would have unknownIs sought in vain. Decrees of FateForbid to check, at first, the courseWhich sweeps at last the torrent force.One Jove, as ancient fables state,Exceeds a hundred gods in weight.So Fate and Louis would seem ableThe universe to draw,Bound captive to their law.—But come we to our fable.A mother lobster did her daughter chide:“For shame, my daughter! can’t you go ahead?”“And how go you yourself?” the child replied;“Can I be but by your example led?Head foremost should I, singularly, wend,While all my race pursue the other end.”She spoke with sense: for better or for worse,Example has a universal force.To some it opens wisdom’s door,But leads to folly many more.Yet, as for backing to one’s aim,When properly pursuedThe art is doubtless good,At least in grim Bellona’s game.
In a little village in the country of Japan there lived long, long ago a man and his wife. For many years they were happy and prosperous, but bad times came, and at last nothing was left them but their daughter, who was as beautiful as the morning. The neighbours were very kind, and would have done anything they could to help their poor friends, but the old couple felt that since everything had changed they would rather go elsewhere, so one day they set off to bury themselves in the country, taking their daughter with them.Now the mother and daughter had plenty to do in keeping the house clean and looking after the garden, but the man would sit for hours together gazing straight in front of him, and thinking of the riches that once were his. Each day he grew more and more wretched, till at length he took to his bed and never got up again.His wife and daughter wept bitterly for his loss, and it was many months before they could take pleasure in anything. Then one morning the mother suddenly looked at the girl, and found that she had grown still more lovely than before. Once her heart would have been glad at the sight, but now that they two were alone in the world she feared some harm might come of it. So, like a good mother, she tried to teach her daughter all she knew, and to bring her up to be always busy, so that she would never have time to think about herself. And the girl was a good girl, and listened to all her mother’s lessons, and so the years passed away.At last one wet spring the mother caught cold, and though in the beginning she did not pay much attention to it, she gradually grew more and more ill, and knew that she had not long to live. Then she called her daughter and told her that very soon she would be alone in the world; that she must take care of herself, as there would be no one to take care of her. And because it was more difficult for beautiful women to pass unheeded than for others, she bade her fetch a wooden helmet out of the next room, and put it on her head, and pull it low down over her brows, so that nearly the whole of her face should lie in its shadow. The girl did as she was bid, and her beauty was so hidden beneath the wooden cap, which covered up all her hair, that she might have gone through any crowd, and no one would have looked twice at her. And when she saw this the heart of the mother was at rest, and she lay back in her bed and died.The girl wept for many days, but by-and-by she felt that, being alone in the world, she must go and get work, for she had only herself to depend upon. There was none to be got by staying where she was, so she made her clothes into a bundle, and walked over the hills till she reached the house of the man who owned the fields in that part of the country. And she took service with him and laboured for him early and late, and every night when she went to bed she was at peace, for she had not forgotten one thing that she had promised her mother; and, however hot the sun might be, she always kept the wooden helmet on her head, and the people gave her the nickname of Hatschihime.In spite, however, of all her care the fame of her beauty spread abroad: many of the impudent young men that are always to be found in the world stole softly up behind her while she was at work, and tried to lift off the wooden helmet. But the girl would have nothing to say to them, and only bade them be off; then they began to talk to her, but she never answered them, and went on with what she was doing, though her wages were low and food not very plentiful. Still she could manage to live, and that was enough.One day her master happened to pass through the field where she was working, and was struck by her industry and stopped to watch her. After a while he put one or two questions to her, and then led her into his house, and told her that henceforward her only duty should be to tend his sick wife. From this time the girl felt as if all her troubles were ended, but the worst of them was yet to come.Not very long after Hatschihime had become maid to the sick woman, the eldest son of the house returned home from Kioto, where he had been studying all sorts of things. He was tired of the splendours of the town and its pleasures, and was glad enough to be back in the green country, among the peach-blossoms and sweet flowers. Strolling about in the early morning, he caught sight of the girl with the odd wooden helmet on her head, and immediately he went to his mother to ask who she was, and where she came from, and why she wore that strange thing over her face.His mother answered that it was a whim, and nobody could persuade her to lay it aside; whereat the young man laughed, but kept his thoughts to himself.“The girl with the wooden helmet.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Violet Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1906), Longmans, Green and Company.One hot day, however, he happened to be going towards home when he caught sight of his mother’s waiting maid kneeling by a little stream that flowed through the garden, splashing some water over her face. The helmet was pushed on one side, and as the youth stood watching from behind a tree he had a glimpse of the girl’s great beauty; and he determined that no one else should be his wife. But when he told his family of his resolve to marry her they were very angry, and made up all sorts of wicked stories about her. However, they might have spared themselves the trouble, as he knew it was only idle talk. ‘I have merely to remain firm,’ thought he, ‘and they will have to give in.’ It was such a good match for the girl that it never occurred to anyone that she would refuse the young man, but so it was. It would not be right, she felt, to make a quarrel in the house, and though in secret she wept bitterly, for a long while, nothing would make her change her mind. At length one night her mother appeared to her in a dream, and bade her marry the young man. So the next time he asked her–as he did nearly every day–to his surprise and joy she consented. The parents then saw they had better make the best of a bad business, and set about making the grand preparations suitable to the occasion. Of course the neighbours said a great many ill-natured things about the wooden helmet, but the bridegroom was too happy to care, and only laughed at them.When everything was ready for the feast, and the bride was dressed in the most beautiful embroidered dress to be found in Japan, the maids took hold of the helmet to lift it off her head, so that they might do her hair in the latest fashion. But the helmet would not come, and the harder they pulled, the faster it seemed to be, till the poor girl yelled with pain. Hearing her cries the bridegroom ran in and soothed her, and declared that she should be married in the helmet, as she could not be married without. Then the ceremonies began, and the bridal pair sat together, and the cup of wine was brought them, out of which they had to drink. And when they had drunk it all, and the cup was empty, a wonderful thing happened. The helmet suddenly burst with a loud noise, and fell in pieces on the ground; and as they all turned to look they found the floor covered with precious stones which had fallen out of it. But the guests were less astonished at the brilliancy of the diamonds than at the beauty of the bride, which was beyond anything they had ever seen or heard of. The night was passed in singing and dancing, and then the bride and bridegroom went to their own house, where they lived till they died, and had many children, who were famous throughout Japan for their goodness and beauty.
More than a hundred seasons ago, a Tinguian went one day to the mountains to hunt. Accompanied by his faithful dog, he made his way steadily up the mountain side, only halting where it was necessary to cut a path through the jungle. And the dog ran here and there searching in the thick underbrush.On and on he went without seeing any game, and then, when he was almost at the top of the highest peak, the dog gave a sharp yelp, and out of the brush leaped a fine deer. Zip! went the man’s spear, and it pierced the animal’s side. For an instant he waited, but the deer did not fall. On it ran with unslackened speed, and a moment later it plunged into a hole in the ground with the man and dog in close pursuit.A short distance from the entrance the cave opened out into large, spacious rooms, and before he realized it the man was hopelessly lost In the distance he could hear the baying of the dog, and with no other guide he hurried on through the darkness.Following the sound, he went for a long time from one unfamiliar room to another, stumbling in the darkness and striking against the stone walls, and then suddenly his outstretched hands grasped a small tree on which berries grew.Astonished at finding anything growing in this dark place, he broke off a branch, and as he did so the shrub began to talk in a strange language. Terrified, the man ran in the direction he had last heard the dog, and a moment later he found himself in the open air on the banks of the Abra River, with the dead deer at his feet.When he examined the twig which he still held in his hand, he saw to his great surprise that the berries were agate beads of great value. And packing the deer on his back, he hastened home where he told his wonderful story.The sight of the beautiful beads convinced the people that he told the truth, and a number of men at once returned with him to secure the tree.Their quest, however, was unsuccessful, for ere they reached the spot the evil spirit had taken the tree away and on the walls of the cave it had made strange carvings which even to this day can be seen.
A long time ago there lived a king who was famed for his wisdom through all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if news of the most secret things was brought to him through the air. But he had a strange custom; every day after dinner, when the table was cleared, and no one else was present, a trusty servant had to bring him one more dish. It was covered, however, and even the servant did not know what was in it, neither did any one know, for the King never took off the cover to eat of it until he was quite alone.This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help carrying the dish into his room. When he had carefully locked the door, he lifted up the cover, and saw a white snake lying on the dish. But when he saw it he could not deny himself the pleasure of tasting it, so he cut off a little bit and put it into his mouth. No sooner had it touched his tongue than he heard a strange whispering of little voices outside his window. He went and listened, and then noticed that it was the sparrows who were chattering together, and telling one another of all kinds of things which they had seen in the fields and woods. Eating the snake had given him power of understanding the language of animals.Now it so happened that on this very day the Queen lost her most beautiful ring, and suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this trusty servant, who was allowed to go everywhere. The King ordered the man to be brought before him, and threatened with angry words that unless he could before the morrow point out the thief, he himself should be looked upon as guilty and executed. In vain he declared his innocence; he was dismissed with no better answer.In his trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and took thought how to help himself out of his trouble. Now some ducks were sitting together quietly by a brook and taking their rest; and, while they were making their feathers smooth with their bills, they were having a confidential conversation together. The servant stood by and listened. They were telling one another of all the places where they had been waddling about all the morning, and what good food they had found; and one said in a pitiful tone, “Something lies heavy on my stomach; as I was eating in haste I swallowed a ring which lay under the Queen’s window.” The servant at once seized her by the neck, carried her to the kitchen, and said to the cook, “Here is a fine duck; pray kill her.” “Yes,” said the cook, and weighed her in his hand; “she has spared no trouble to fatten herself, and has been waiting to be roasted long enough.” So he cut off her head, and as she was being dressed for the spit, the Queen’s ring was found inside her.The servant could now easily prove his innocence; and the King, to make amends for the wrong, allowed him to ask a favor, and promised him the best place in the court that he could wish for. The servant refused everything, and only asked for a horse and some money for traveling, as he had a mind to see the world and go about a little.When his request was granted he set out on his way, and one day came to a pond, where he saw three fishes caught in the reeds and gasping for water. Now, though it is said that fishes are dumb, he heard them lamenting that they must perish so miserably, and, as he had a kind heart, he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back into the water. They quivered with delight, put out their heads, and cried to him, “We will remember you and repay you for saving us!”He rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice in the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complain, “Why cannot folks, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That stupid horse, with his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people without mercy!” So he turned on to a side path and the ant-king cried out to him, “We will remember you one good turn deserves another!”The path led him into a wood, and here he saw two old ravens standing by their nest, and throwing out their young ones. “Out with you, you idle, good-for-nothing creatures!” cried they; “we cannot find food for you any longer; you are big enough, and can provide for yourselves.”But the poor young ravens lay upon the ground flapping their wings, and crying, “Oh, what helpless chicks we are! We must shift for ourselves, and yet we cannot fly! What can we do, but lie here and starve?” So the good young fellow alighted and killed his horse with his sword, and gave it to them for food. Then they came hopping up to it, satisfied their hunger, and cried, “We will remember you one good turn deserves another!”And now he had to use his own legs, and when he had walked a long way, he came to a large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the streets, and a man rode up on horseback, crying aloud, “The King’s daughter wants a husband; but whoever sues for her hand must perform a hard task, and if he does not succeed he will forfeit his life.” Many had already made the attempt, but in vain; nevertheless when the youth saw the King’s daughter he was so overcome by her great beauty that he forgot all danger, went before the King, and declared himself a suitor.So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it, in his sight; then the King ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of the sea, and added, “If you come up again without it you will be thrown in again and again until you perish amid the waves.” All the people grieved for the handsome youth; then they went away, leaving him alone by the sea.“There lay the gold ring in the shell.” Illustration by Rie Cramer, published in Alcott’s Grimm’s Fairy Tales (1927), Penn Pub. CompanyHe stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly he saw three fishes come swimming towards him, and they were the very fishes whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in its mouth, which it laid on the shore at the youth’s feet, and when he had taken it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the shell. Full of joy he took it to the King, and expected that he would grant him the promised reward.But when the proud princess perceived that he was not her equal in birth, she scorned him, and required him first to perform another task. She went down into the garden and strewed with her own hands ten sacks-full of millet-seed on the grass; then she said, “To-morrow morning before sunrise these must be picked up, and not a single grain be wanting.”The youth sat down in the garden and considered how it might be possible to perform this task, but he could think of nothing, and there he sat sorrowfully awaiting the break of day, when he should be led to death. But as soon as the first rays of the sun shone into the garden he saw all the ten sacks standing side by side, quite full, and not a single grain was missing. The ant-king had come in the night with thousands and thousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had by great industry picked up all the millet-seed and gathered them into the sacks.Presently the King’s daughter herself came down into the garden, and was amazed to see that the young man had done the task she had given him. But she could not yet conquer her proud heart, and said, “Although he has performed both the tasks, he shall not be my husband until he has brought me an apple from the Tree of Life.”The youth did not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out, and would have gone on for ever, as long as his legs would carry him, though he had no hope of finding it. After he had wandered through three kingdoms, he came one evening to a wood, and lay down under a tree to sleep. But he heard a rustling in the branches, and a golden apple fell into his hand. At the same time three ravens flew down to him, perched themselves upon his knee, and said, “We are the three young ravens whom you saved from starving; when we had grown big, and heard that you were seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of the world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the apple.”The youth, full of joy, set out homewards, and took the Golden Apple to the King’s beautiful daughter, who had now no more excuses left to make. They cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then her heart became full of love for him, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to a great age.
One morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole.  He had bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long bit of black india-rubber.  The little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water.“You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your heads,” she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them how it was done.  But the little ducks paid no attention to her.  They were so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in society at all.“What disobedient children!” cried the old Water-rat; “they really deserve to be drowned.”“Nothing of the kind,” answered the Duck, “every one must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too patient.”“Ah! I know nothing about the feelings of parents,” said the Water-rat; “I am not a family man.  In fact, I have never been married, and I never intend to be.  Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much higher.  Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship.”“And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?” asked a Green Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard the conversation.“Yes, that is just what I want to know,” said the Duck; and she swam away to the end of the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give her children a good example.“What a silly question!” cried the Water-rat.  “I should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.”“And what would you do in return?” said the little bird, swinging upon a silver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.“I don’t understand you,” answered the Water-rat.“Let me tell you a story on the subject,” said the Linnet.“Is the story about me?” asked the Water-rat.  “If so, I will listen to it, for I am extremely fond of fiction.”“It is applicable to you,” answered the Linnet; and he flew down, and alighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend.“Once upon a time,” said the Linnet, “there was an honest little fellow named Hans.”“Was he very distinguished?” asked the Water-rat.“No,” answered the Linnet, “I don’t think he was distinguished at all, except for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face.  He lived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his garden.  In all the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his.  Sweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds’-purses, and Fair-maids of France.  There were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white.  Columbine and Ladysmock, Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil and the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as the months went by, one flower taking another flower’s place, so that there were always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.“Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all was big Hugh the Miller.  Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller to little Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning over the wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season.“‘Real friends should have everything in common,’ the Miller used to say, and little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend with such noble ideas.“Sometimes, indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the rich Miller never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred sacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep; but Hans never troubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true friendship.“So little Hans worked away in his garden.  During the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter came, and he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper but a few dried pears or some hard nuts.  In the winter, also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.“‘There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow lasts,’ the Miller used to say to his wife, ‘for when people are in trouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors.  That at least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right.  So I shall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and he will be able to give me a large basket of primroses and that will make him so happy.’“‘You are certainly very thoughtful about others,’ answered the Wife, as she sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; ‘very thoughtful indeed.  It is quite a treat to hear you talk about friendship.  I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful things as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wear a gold ring on his little finger.’“‘But could we not ask little Hans up here?’ said the Miller’s youngest son.  ‘If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him half my porridge, and show him my white rabbits.’“‘What a silly boy you are!’ cried the Miller; ‘I really don’t know what is the use of sending you to school.  You seem not to learn anything.  Why, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody’s nature.  I certainly will not allow Hans’ nature to be spoiled.  I am his best friend, and I will always watch over him, and see that he is not led into any temptations.  Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask me to let him have some flour on credit, and that I could not do.  Flour is one thing, and friendship is another, and they should not be confused.  Why, the words are spelt differently, and mean quite different things.  Everybody can see that.’“‘How well you talk!’ said the Miller’s Wife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm ale; ‘really I feel quite drowsy.  It is just like being in church.’“‘Lots of people act well,’ answered the Miller; ‘but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer thing also’; and he looked sternly across the table at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung his head down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his tea.  However, he was so young that you must excuse him.”“Is that the end of the story?” asked the Water-rat.“Certainly not,” answered the Linnet, “that is the beginning.”“Then you are quite behind the age,” said the Water-rat.  “Every good story-teller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle.  That is the new method.  I heard all about it the other day from a critic who was walking round the pond with a young man.  He spoke of the matter at great length, and I am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head, and whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered ‘Pooh!’  But pray go on with your story.  I like the Miller immensely.  I have all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathy between us.”“Well,” said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on the other, “as soon as the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their pale yellow stars, the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans.“‘Why, what a good heart you have!’ cried his Wife; ‘you are always thinking of others.  And mind you take the big basket with you for the flowers.’“So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm.“‘Good morning, little Hans,’ said the Miller.“‘Good morning,’ said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear to ear.“‘And how have you been all the winter?’ said the Miller.“‘Well, really,’ cried Hans, ‘it is very good of you to ask, very good indeed.  I am afraid I had rather a hard time of it, but now the spring has come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well.’“‘We often talked of you during the winter, Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘and wondered how you were getting on.’“‘That was kind of you,’ said Hans; ‘I was half afraid you had forgotten me.’“‘Hans, I am surprised at you,’ said the Miller; ‘friendship never forgets.  That is the wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you don’t understand the poetry of life.  How lovely your primroses are looking, by-the-bye!”“‘They are certainly very lovely,’ said Hans, ‘and it is a most lucky thing for me that I have so many.  I am going to bring them into the market and sell them to the Burgomaster’s daughter, and buy back my wheelbarrow with the money.’“‘Buy back your wheelbarrow?  You don’t mean to say you have sold it?  What a very stupid thing to do!’“‘Well, the fact is,’ said Hans, ‘that I was obliged to.  You see the winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money at all to buy bread with.  So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat, and then I sold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last I sold my wheelbarrow.  But I am going to buy them all back again now.’“‘Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘I will give you my wheelbarrow.  It is not in very good repair; indeed, one side is gone, and there is something wrong with the wheel-spokes; but in spite of that I will give it to you.  I know it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think me extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the world.  I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and, besides, I have got a new wheelbarrow for myself.  Yes, you may set your mind at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow.’“‘Well, really, that is generous of you,’ said little Hans, and his funny round face glowed all over with pleasure.  ‘I can easily put it in repair, as I have a plank of wood in the house.’“‘A plank of wood!’ said the Miller; ‘why, that is just what I want for the roof of my barn.  There is a very large hole in it, and the corn will all get damp if I don’t stop it up.  How lucky you mentioned it!  It is quite remarkable how one good action always breeds another.  I have given you my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank.  Of course, the wheelbarrow is worth far more than the plank, but true, friendship never notices things like that.  Pray get it at once, and I will set to work at my barn this very day.’“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged the plank out.“‘It is not a very big plank,’ said the Miller, looking at it, ‘and I am afraid that after I have mended my barn-roof there won’t be any left for you to mend the wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that is not my fault.  And now, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like to give me some flowers in return.  Here is the basket, and mind you fill it quite full.’“‘Quite full?’ said little Hans, rather sorrowfully, for it was really a very big basket, and he knew that if he filled it he would have no flowers left for the market and he was very anxious to get his silver buttons back.“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I don’t think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers.  I may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.’“‘My dear friend, my best friend,’ cried little Hans, ‘you are welcome to all the flowers in my garden.  I would much sooner have your good opinion than my silver buttons, any day’; and he ran and plucked all his pretty primroses, and filled the Miller’s basket.“‘Good-bye, little Hans,’ said the Miller, as he went up the hill with the plank on his shoulder, and the big basket in his hand.“‘Good-bye,’ said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased about the wheelbarrow.“The next day he was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, when he heard the Miller’s voice calling to him from the road.  So he jumped off the ladder, and ran down the garden, and looked over the wall.“There was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.“‘Dear little Hans,’ said the Miller, ‘would you mind carrying this sack of flour for me to market?’“‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ said Hans, ‘but I am really very busy to-day.  I have got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and all my grass to roll.’“‘Well, really,’ said the Miller, ‘I think that, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to refuse.’“‘Oh, don’t say that,’ cried little Hans, ‘I wouldn’t be unfriendly for the whole world’; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders.“It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down and rest.  However, he went on bravely, and as last he reached the market.  After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flour for a very good price, and then he returned home at once, for he was afraid that if he stopped too late he might meet some robbers on the way.“‘It has certainly been a hard day,’ said little Hans to himself as he was going to bed, ‘but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he is my best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow.’“Early the next morning the Miller came down to get the money for his sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed.“‘Upon my word,’ said the Miller, ‘you are very lazy.  Really, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you might work harder.  Idleness is a great sin, and I certainly don’t like any of my friends to be idle or sluggish.  You must not mind my speaking quite plainly to you.  Of course I should not dream of doing so if I were not your friend.  But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means?  Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain.  Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.’“‘I am very sorry,’ said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling off his night-cap, ‘but I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed for a little time, and listen to the birds singing.  Do you know that I always work better after hearing the birds sing?’“‘Well, I am glad of that,’ said the Miller, clapping little Hans on the back, ‘for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-roof for me.’“Poor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his flowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to refuse the Miller, as he was such a good friend to him.“‘Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy?’ he inquired in a shy and timid voice.“‘Well, really,’ answered the Miller, ‘I do not think it is much to ask of you, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow; but of course if you refuse I will go and do it myself.’“‘Oh! on no account,’ cried little Hans and he jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, and went up to the barn.“He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller came to see how he was getting on.“‘Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans?’ cried the Miller in a cheery voice.“‘It is quite mended,’ answered little Hans, coming down the ladder.“‘Ah!’ said the Miller, ‘there is no work so delightful as the work one does for others.’“‘It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk,’ answered little Hans, sitting down, and wiping his forehead, ‘a very great privilege.  But I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have.’“‘Oh! they will come to you,’ said the Miller, ‘but you must take more pains.  At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day you will have the theory also.’“‘Do you really think I shall?’ asked little Hans.“‘I have no doubt of it,’ answered the Miller, ‘but now that you have mended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive my sheep to the mountain to-morrow.’“Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans started off with them to the mountain.  It took him the whole day to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.“‘What a delightful time I shall have in my garden,’ he said, and he went to work at once.“But somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his friend the Miller was always coming round and sending him off on long errands, or getting him to help at the mill.  Little Hans was very much distressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had forgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the Miller was his best friend.  ‘Besides,’ he used to say, ‘he is going to give me his wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure generosity.’“So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in a note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good scholar.“Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door.  It was a very wild night, and the wind was blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first he thought it was merely the storm.  But a second rap came, and then a third, louder than any of the others.“‘It is some poor traveller,’ said little Hans to himself, and he ran to the door.“There stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in the other.“‘Dear little Hans,’ cried the Miller, ‘I am in great trouble.  My little boy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for the Doctor.  But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead of me.  You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you should do something for me in return.’“‘Certainly,’ cried little Hans, ‘I take it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I will start off at once.  But you must lend me your lantern, as the night is so dark that I am afraid I might fall into the ditch.’“‘I am very sorry,’ answered the Miller, ‘but it is my new lantern, and it would be a great loss to me if anything happened to it.’“‘Well, never mind, I will do without it,’ cried little Hans, and he took down his great fur coat, and his warm scarlet cap, and tied a muffler round his throat, and started off.“What a dreadful storm it was!  The night was so black that little Hans could hardly see, and the wind was so strong that he could scarcely stand.  However, he was very courageous, and after he had been walking about three hours, he arrived at the Doctor’s house, and knocked at the door.“‘Who is there?’ cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroom window.“‘Little Hans, Doctor.’“’What do you want, little Hans?’“‘The Miller’s son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and the Miller wants you to come at once.’“‘All right!’ said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his big boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in the direction of the Miller’s house, little Hans trudging behind him.“But the storm grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, and little Hans could not see where he was going, or keep up with the horse.  At last he lost his way, and wandered off on the moor, which was a very dangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, and there poor little Hans was drowned.  His body was found the next day by some goatherds, floating in a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to the cottage.“Everybody went to little Hans’ funeral, as he was so popular, and the Miller was the chief mourner.“‘As I was his best friend,’ said the Miller, ‘it is only fair that I should have the best place’; so he walked at the head of the procession in a long black cloak, and every now and then he wiped his eyes with a big pocket-handkerchief.“‘Little Hans is certainly a great loss to every one,’ said the Blacksmith, when the funeral was over, and they were all seated comfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes.“‘A great loss to me at any rate,’ answered the Miller; ‘why, I had as good as given him my wheelbarrow, and now I really don’t know what to do with it.  It is very much in my way at home, and it is in such bad repair that I could not get anything for it if I sold it.  I will certainly take care not to give away anything again.  One always suffers for being generous.’”“Well?” said the Water-rat, after a long pause.“Well, that is the end,” said the Linnet.“But what became of the Miller?” asked the Water-rat.“Oh!  I really don’t know,” replied the Linnet; “and I am sure that I don’t care.”“It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature,” said the Water-rat.“I am afraid you don’t quite see the moral of the story,” remarked the Linnet.“The what?” screamed the Water-rat.“The moral.”“Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?”“Certainly,” said the Linnet.“Well, really,” said the Water-rat, in a very angry manner, “I think you should have told me that before you began.  If you had done so, I certainly would not have listened to you; in fact, I should have said ‘Pooh,’ like the critic.  However, I can say it now”; so he shouted out “Pooh” at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went back into his hole.“And how do you like the Water-rat?” asked the Duck, who came paddling up some minutes afterwards.  “He has a great many good points, but for my own part I have a mother’s feelings, and I can never look at a confirmed bachelor without the tears coming into my eyes.”“I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him,” answered the Linnet.  “The fact is, that I told him a story with a moral.”“Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do,” said the Duck.And I quite agree with her.
A poor man, called Iena, or the Wanderer, was in the habit of roaming about from place to place, forlorn, without relations, and almost helpless. He had often wished for a companion to share his solitude; but who would think of joining their fortunes with those of a poor wanderer, who had no shelter but such as his leather hunting-shirt provided, and no other household in the world than the bundle which he carried in his hand, and in which his hunting-shirt was laid away?One day as he went on a hunting excursion, to relieve himself of the burden of carrying it, Iena hung up his bundle on the branch of a tree, and then set out in quest of game.On returning to the spot in the evening, he was surprised to find a small but neat lodge built in the place where he had left his bundle; and on looking in he beheld a beautiful female, sitting on the further side of the lodge, with his bundle lying beside her.During the day Iena had so far prospered in his sport as to kill a deer, which he now cast down at the lodge door.Without pausing to take the least notice, or to give a word of welcome to the hunter, the woman ran out and began to see whether it was a large deer that he had brought. In her haste she stumbled and fell at the threshold.Iena looked at her with astonishment, and thought to himself, “I supposed I was blessed, but I find my mistake. Night-Hawk,” said he, speaking aloud, “I will leave my game with you that you may feast on it.”He then took up his bundle and departed. After walking some time he came to another tree, on which he suspended his bundle as before, and went in search of game.Success again attended him, and he returned, bringing with him a deer, and he found that a lodge had sprung up as before, where he had hung his bundle. He looked in and saw a beautiful female sitting alone, with his bundle by her side.She arose and came out toward the deer which he had deposited at the door, and he immediately went into the lodge and sat by the fire, as he was weary with the day’s hunt, which had carried him far away.The woman did not return, and wondering at her delay, Iena at last arose, and peeping through the door of the lodge, beheld her greedily eating all the fat of the deer. He exclaimed, “I thought I was blessed, but I find I was mistaken.” Then addressing the woman: “Poor Marten,” said he, “feast on the game I have brought.”He again took up his bundle and departed; and, as usual, hung it upon the branch of a tree, and wandered off in quest of game.In the evening he returned, with his customary good luck, bringing in a fine deer. He again found that a lodge had taken the place of his bundle. He gazed through an opening in the side of the lodge, and there was another beautiful woman sitting alone, with a bundle by her side.As soon as he entered the lodge, she rose cheerfully, welcomed him home, and without delay or complaining, she brought in the deer, cut it up as it should be, and hung up the meat to dry. She then prepared a portion of it for the supper of the weary hunter. The man thought to himself, “Now I am certainly blessed.”He continued his practice of hunting every day, and the woman, on his return, always welcomed him, readily took charge of the meat, and promptly prepared his evening meal; and he ever after lived a contented and happy man.
From home and city spires, one day,The swallow Progne flew away,And sought the bosky dellWhere sang poor Philomel.“My sister,” Progne said, “how do you do?‘Tis now a thousand years since youHave been conceal’d from human view;I’m sure I have not seen your faceOnce since the times of Thrace.Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?”“Where could I find,” said Philomel, “so sweet?”“What! sweet?” cried Progne—”sweet to wasteSuch tones on beasts devoid of tasteOr on some rustic, at the most!Should you by deserts be engross’d?Come, be the city’s pride and boast.Besides, the woods remind of harmsThat Tereus in them did your charms.”“Alas!” replied the bird of song,“The thought of that so cruel wrongMakes me, from age to age,Prefer this hermitage;For nothing like the sight of menCan call up what I suffer’d then.”
There was once a man who understood all kinds of arts; he served in war, and behaved well and bravely, but when the war was over he received his dismissal, and three farthings for his expenses on the way. “Stop,” said he, “I shall not be content with this. If I can only meet with the right people, the King will yet have to give me all the treasure of the country.” Then full of anger he went into the forest, and saw a man standing therein who had plucked up six trees as if they were blades of corn. He said to him, “Wilt thou be my servant and go with me?” “Yes,” he answered, “but, first, I will take this little bundle of sticks home to my mother,” and he took one of the trees, and wrapped it round the five others, lifted the bundle on his back, and carried it away. Then he returned and went with his master, who said, “We two ought to be able to get through the world very well,” and when they had walked on for a short while they found a huntsman who was kneeling, had shouldered his gun, and was about to fire. The master said to him, “Huntsman, what art thou going to shoot?” He answered, “Two miles from here a fly is sitting on the branch of an oak-tree, and I want to shoot its left eye out.” “Oh, come with me,” said the man, “if we three are together, we certainly ought to be able to get on in the world!” The huntsman was ready, and went with him, and they came to seven windmills whose sails were turning round with great speed, and yet no wind was blowing either on the right or the left, and no leaf was stirring. Then said the man, “I know not what is driving the windmills, not a breath of air is stirring,” and he went onwards with his servants, and when they had walked two miles they saw a man sitting on a tree who was shutting one nostril, and blowing out of the other. “Good gracious! what are you doing up there?” He answered, “Two miles from here are seven windmills; look, I am blowing them till they turn round.” “Oh, come with me,” said the man. “If we four are together, we shall carry the whole world before us!” Then the blower came down and went with him, and after a while they saw a man who was standing on one leg and had taken off the other, and laid it beside him. Then the master said, “You have arranged things very comfortably to have a rest.” “I am a runner,” he replied, “and to stop myself running far too fast, I have taken off one of my legs, for if I run with both, I go quicker than any bird can fly.” “Oh, go with me. If we five are together, we shall carry the whole world before us.” So he went with them, and it was not long before they met a man who wore a cap, but had put it quite on one ear. Then the master said to him, “Gracefully, gracefully, don’t stick your cap on one ear, you look just like a tom-fool!” “I must not wear it otherwise,” said he, “for if I set my hat straight, a terrible frost comes on, and all the birds in the air are frozen, and drop dead on the ground.” “Oh, come with me,” said the master. “If we six are together, we can carry the whole world before us.”Now the six came to a town where the King had proclaimed that whosoever ran a race with his daughter and won the victory, should be her husband, but whosoever lost it, must lose his head. Then the man presented himself and said, “I will, however, let my servant run for me.” The King replied, “Then his life also must be staked, so that his head and thine are both set on the victory.” When that was settled and made secure, the man buckled the other leg on the runner, and said to him, “Now be nimble, and help us to win.” It was fixed that the one who was first to bring some water from a far distant well, was to be the victor. The runner received a pitcher, and the King’s daughter one too, and they began to run at the same time, but in an instant, when the King’s daughter had got a very little way, the people who were looking on could see no more of the runner, and it was just as if the wind had whistled by. In a short time he reached the well, filled his pitcher with water, and turned back. Half-way home, however, he was overcome with fatigue, and set his pitcher down, lay down himself, and fell asleep. He had, however, made a pillow of a horse’s skull which was lying on the ground, in order that he might lie uncomfortably, and soon wake up again. In the meantime the King’s daughter, who could also run very well — quite as well as any ordinary mortal can — had reached the well, and was hurrying back with her pitcher full of water, and when she saw the runner lying there asleep, she was glad and said, “My enemy is delivered over into my hands,” emptied his pitcher, and ran on. And now all would have been lost if by good luck the huntsman had not been standing at the top of the castle, and had not seen everything with his sharp eyes. Then said he, “The King’s daughter shall still not prevail against us;” and he loaded his gun, and shot so cleverly, that he shot the horse’s skull away from under the runner’s head without hurting him. Then the runner awoke, leapt up, and saw that his pitcher was empty, and that the King’s daughter was already far in advance. He did not lose heart, however, but ran back to the well with his pitcher, again drew some water, and was still at home again, ten minutes before the King’s daughter. “Behold!” said he, “I have not bestirred myself till now, it did not deserve to be called running before.”But it pained the King, and still more his daughter, that she should be carried off by a common disbanded soldier like that; so they took counsel with each other how to get rid of him and his companions. Then said the King to her, “I have thought of a way; don’t be afraid, they shall not come back again.” And he said to them, “You shall now make merry together, and eat and drink,” and he conducted them to a room which had a floor of iron, and the doors also were of iron, and the windows were guarded with iron bars. There was a table in the room covered with delicious food, and the King said to them, “Go in, and enjoy yourselves.” And when they were inside, he ordered the doors to be shut and bolted. Then he sent for the cook, and commanded him to make a fire under the room until the iron became red- hot. This the cook did, and the six who were sitting at table began to feel quite warm, and they thought the heat was caused by the food; but as it became still greater, and they wanted to get out, and found that the doors and windows were bolted, they became aware that the King must have an evil intention, and wanted to suffocate them. “He shall not succeed, however,” said the one with the cap. “I will cause a frost to come, before which the fire shall be ashamed, and creep away.” Then he put his cap on straight, and immediately there came such a frost that all heat disappeared, and the food on the dishes began to freeze. When an hour or two had passed by, and the King believed that they had perished in the heat, he had the doors opened to behold them himself. But when the doors were opened, all six were standing there, alive and well, and said that they should very much like to get out to warm themselves, for the very food was fast frozen to the dishes with the cold. Then, full of anger, the King went down to the cook, scolded him, and asked why he had not done what he had been ordered to do. But the cook replied, “There is heat enough there, just look yourself.” Then the King saw that a fierce fire was burning under the iron room, and perceived that there was no getting the better of the six in this way.Again the King considered how to get rid of his unpleasant guests, and caused their chief to be brought and said, “If thou wilt take gold and renounce my daughter, thou shalt have as much as thou wilt.”“Oh, yes, Lord King,” he answered, “give me as much as my servant can carry, and I will not ask for your daughter.”On this the King was satisfied, and the other continued, “In fourteen days, I will come and fetch it.” Thereupon he summoned together all the tailors in the whole kingdom, and they were to sit for fourteen days and sew a sack. And when it was ready, the strong one who could tear up trees had to take it on his back, and go with it to the King. Then said the King, “Who can that strong fellow be who is carrying a bundle of linen on his back that is as big as a house?” and he was alarmed and said, “What a lot of gold he can carry away!” Then he commanded a ton of gold to be brought; it took sixteen of his strongest men to carry it, but the strong one snatched it up in one hand, put it in his sack, and said, “Why don’t you bring more at the same time?– that hardly covers the bottom!” Then, little by little, the King caused all his treasure to be brought thither, and the strong one pushed it into the sack, and still the sack was not half full with it.” “Bring more,” cried he, “these few crumbs don’t fill it.” Then seven thousand carts with gold had to be gathered together in the whole kingdom, and the strong one thrust them and the oxen harnessed to them into his sack. “I will examine it no longer,” said he, “but will just take what comes, so long as the sack is but full.” When all that was inside, there was still room for a great deal more; then he said, “I will just make an end of the thing; people do sometimes tie up a sack even when it is not full.” So he took it on his back, and went away with his comrades. When the King now saw how one single man was carrying away the entire wealth of the country, he became enraged, and bade his horsemen mount and pursue the six, and ordered them to take the sack away from the strong one. Two regiments speedily overtook the six, and called out, “You are prisoners, put down the sack with the gold, or you will all be cut to pieces!” “What say you?” cried the blower, “that we are prisoners! Rather than that should happen, all of you shall dance about in the air.” And he closed one nostril, and with the other blew on the two regiments. Then they were driven away from each other, and carried into the blue sky over all the mountains — one here, the other there. One sergeant cried for mercy; he had nine wounds, and was a brave fellow who did not deserve ill-treatment. The blower stopped a little so that he came down without injury, and then the blower said to him, “Now go home to thy King, and tell him he had better send some more horsemen, and I will blow them all into the air.” When the King was informed of this he said, “Let the rascals go. They have the best of it.” Then the six conveyed the riches home, divided it amongst them, and lived in content until their death.
There was once a man who had three sons. The youngest of them was called Dullhead, and was sneered and jeered at and snubbed on every possible opportunity.One day it happened that the eldest son wished to go into the forest to cut wood, and before he started his mother gave him a fine rich cake and a bottle of wine, so that he might be sure not to suffer from hunger or thirst.When he reached the forest he met a little old grey man who wished him `Good-morning,’ and said: `Do give me a piece of that cake you have got in your pocket, and let me have a draught of your wine–I am so hungry and thirsty.’But this clever son replied: `If I give you my cake and wine I shall have none left for myself; you just go your own way;’ and he left the little man standing there and went further on into the forest. There he began to cut down a tree, but before long he made a false stroke with his axe, and cut his own arm so badly that he was obliged to go home and have it bound up.Then the second son went to the forest, and his mother gave him a good cake and a bottle of wine as she had to his elder brother. He too met the little old grey man, who begged him for a morsel of cake and a draught of wine.But the second son spoke most sensibly too, and said: `Whatever I give to you I deprive myself of. Just go your own way, will you?’ Not long after his punishment overtook him, for no sooner had he struck a couple of blows on a tree with his axe, than he cut his leg so badly that he had to be carried home.So then Dullhead said: `Father, let me go out and cut wood.’But his father answered: `Both your brothers have injured themselves. You had better leave it alone; you know nothing about it.’But Dullhead begged so hard to be allowed to go that at last his father said: `Very well, then–go. Perhaps when you have hurt yourself, you may learn to know better.’ His mother only gave him a very plain cake made with water and baked in the cinders, and a bottle of sour beer.When he got to the forest, he too met the little grey old man, who greeted him and said: `Give me a piece of your cake and a draught from your bottle; I am so hungry and thirsty.’And Dullhead replied: `I’ve only got a cinder-cake and some sour beer, but if you care to have that, let us sit down and eat.’So they sat down, and when Dullhead brought out his cake he found it had turned into a fine rich cake, and the sour beer into excellent wine. Then they ate and drank, and when they had finished the little man said: `Now I will bring you luck, because you have a kind heart and are willing to share what you have with others. There stands an old tree; cut it down, and amongst its roots you’ll find something.’ With that the little man took leave.Then Dullhead fell to at once to hew down the tree, and when it fell he found amongst its roots a goose, whose feathers were all of pure gold. He lifted it out, carried it off, and took it with him to an inn where he meant to spend the night.Now the landlord of the inn had three daughters, and when they saw the goose they were filled with curiosity as to what this wonderful bird could be, and each longed to have one of its golden feathers.The eldest thought to herself: `No doubt I shall soon find a good opportunity to pluck out one of its feathers,’ and the first time Dullhead happened to leave the room she caught hold of the goose by its wing. But, lo and behold! her fingers seemed to stick fast to the goose, and she could not take her hand away.Soon after the second daughter came in, and thought to pluck a golden feather for herself too; but hardly had she touched her sister than she stuck fast as well. At last the third sister came with the same intentions, but the other two cried out: `Keep off! for Heaven’s sake, keep off!’The younger sister could not imagine why she was to keep off, and thought to herself: `If they are both there, why should not I be there too?’So she sprang to them; but no sooner had she touched one of them than she stuck fast to her. So they all three had to spend the night with the goose.Next morning Dullhead tucked the goose under his arm and went off, without in the least troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to it. They just had to run after him right or left as best they could. In the middle of a field they met the parson, and when he saw this procession he cried: `For shame, you bold girls! What do you mean by running after a young fellow through the fields like that? Do you call that proper behaviour?’ And with that he caught the youngest girl by the hand to try and draw her away. But directly he touched her he hung on himself, and had to run along with the rest of them.Not long after the clerk came that way, and was much surprised to see the parson following the footsteps of three girls. `Why, where is your reverence going so fast?’ cried he; `don’t forget there is to be a christening to-day;’ and he ran after him, caught him by the sleeve, and hung on to it himself: As the five of them trotted along in this fashion one after the other, two peasants were coming from their work with their hoes. On seeing them the parson called out and begged them to come and rescue him and the clerk. But no sooner did they touch the clerk than they stuck on too, and so there were seven of them running after Dullhead and his goose.After a time they all came to a town where a King reigned whose daughter was so serious and solemn that no one could ever manage to make her laugh. So the King had decreed that whoever should succeed in making her laugh should marry her.When Dullhead heard this he marched before the Princess with his goose and its appendages, and as soon as she saw these seven people continually running after each other she burst out laughing, and could not stop herself. Then Dullhead claimed her as his bride, but the King, who did not much fancy him as a son-in-law, made all sorts of objections, and told him he must first find a man who could drink up a whole cellarful of wine.Dullhead bethought him of the little grey man, who could, he felt sure, help him; so he went off to the forest, and on the very spot where he had cut down the tree he saw a man sitting with a most dismal expression of face.Dullhead asked him what he was taking so much to heart, and the man answered: `I don’t know how I am ever to quench this terrible thirst I am suffering from. Cold water doesn’t suit me at all. To be sure I’ve emptied a whole barrel of wine, but what is one drop on a hot stone?’`I think I can help you,’ said Dullhead. `Come with me, and you shall drink to your heart’s content.’ So he took him to the King’s cellar, and the man sat down before the huge casks and drank and drank till he drank up the whole contents of the cellar before the day closed.Then Dullhead asked once more for his bride, but the King felt vexed at the idea of a stupid fellow whom people called `Dullhead’ carrying off his daughter, and he began to make fresh conditions. He required Dullhead to find a man who could eat a mountain of bread. Dullhead did not wait to consider long but went straight off to the forest, and there on the same spot sat a man who was drawing in a strap as tight as he could round his body, and making a most woeful face the while. Said he: `I’ve eaten up a whole oven full of loaves, but what’s the good of that to anyone who is as hungry as I am? I declare my stomach feels quite empty, and I must draw my belt tight if I’m not to die of starvation.’Dullhead was delighted, and said: `Get up and come with me, and you shall have plenty to eat,’ and he brought him to the King’s Court.Now the King had given orders to have all the flour in his kingdom brought together, and to have a huge mountain baked of it. But the man from the wood just took up his stand before the mountain and began to eat, and in one day it had all vanished.For the third time Dullhead asked for his bride, but again the King tried to make some evasion, and demanded a ship `which could sail on land or water! When you come sailing in such a ship,’ said he, `you shall have my daughter without further delay.’Again Dullhead started off to the forest, and there he found the little old grey man with whom he had shared his cake, and who said: `I have eaten and I have drunk for you, and now I will give you the ship. I have done all this for you because you were kind and merciful to me.’Then he gave Dullhead a ship which could sail on land or water, and when the King saw it he felt he could no longer refuse him his daughter.So they celebrated the wedding with great rejoicings; and after the King’s death Dullhead succeeded to the kingdom, and lived happily with his wife for many years after.
The region round the little town of Kjöge is very bleak and bare. Thetown certainly lies by the sea shore, which is always beautiful, butjust there it might be more beautiful than it is: all around are flatfields, and it is a long way to the forest. But when one is very muchat home in a place, one always finds something beautiful, andsomething that one longs for in the most charming spot in the worldthat is strange to us. We confess that, by the utmost boundary of thelittle town, where some humble gardens skirt the streamlet that fallsinto the sea, it must be very pretty in summer; and this was theopinion of the two children from neighbouring houses, who were playingthere, and forcing their way through the gooseberry bushes, to get toone another. In one of the gardens stood an elder tree, and in theother an old willow, and under the latter the children were especiallyvery fond of playing; they were allowed to play there, though, indeed,the tree stood close beside the stream, and they might easily havefallen into the water. But the eye of God watches over the littleones; if it did not, they would be badly off. And, moreover, they werevery careful with respect to the water; in fact, the boy was so muchafraid of it, that they could not lure him into the sea in summer,when the other children were splashing about in the waves.Accordingly, he was famously jeered and mocked at, and had to bearthe jeering and mockery as best he could. But once Joanna, theneighbour’s little girl, dreamed she was sailing in a boat, and Knudwaded out to join her till the water rose, first to his neck, andafterwards closed over his head, so that he disappeared altogether.From the time when little Knud heard of this dream, he would no longerbear the teasing of the other boys. He might go into the water now, hesaid, for Joanna had dreamed it. He certainly never carried the ideainto practice, but the dream was his great guide for all that.Their parents, who were poor people, often took tea together, and Knudand Joanna played in the gardens and on the high-road, where a row ofwillows had been planted beside the skirting ditch; these trees, withtheir polled tops, certainly did not look beautiful, but they were notput there for ornament, but for use. The old willow tree in the gardenwas much handsomer, and therefore the children were fond of sittingunder it. In the town itself there was a great market-place, and atthe time of the fair this place was covered with whole streets oftents and booths, containing silk ribbons, boots, and everything thata person could wish for. There was great crowding, and generally theweather was rainy; but it did not destroy the fragrance of thehoney-cakes and the gingerbread, of which there was a booth quitefull; and the best of it was, that the man who kept this booth cameevery year to lodge during the fair-time in the dwelling of littleKnud’s father. Consequently there came a present of a bit ofgingerbread every now and then, and of course Joanna received hershare of the gift. But, perhaps the most charming thing of all wasthat the gingerbread dealer knew all sorts of tales, and could evenrelate histories about his own gingerbread cakes; and one evening, inparticular, he told a story about them which made such a deepimpression on the children that they never forgot it; and for thatreason it is perhaps advisable that we should hear it too, moreespecially as the story is not long.“On the shop-board,” he said, “lay two gingerbread cakes, one in theshape of a man with a hat, the other of a maiden without a bonnet;both their faces were on the side that was uppermost, for they were tobe looked at on that side, and not on the other; and, indeed, mostpeople have a favourable side from which they should be viewed. On theleft side the man wore a bitter almond–that was his heart; but themaiden, on the other hand, was honey-cake all over. They were placedas samples on the shop-board, and remaining there a long time, at lastthey fell in love with one another, but neither told the other, asthey should have done if they had expected anything to come of it.“‘He is a man, and therefore he must speak first,’ she thought; butshe felt quite contented, for she knew her love was returned.“His thoughts were far more extravagant, as is always the case with aman. He dreamed that he was a real street boy, that he had fourpennies of his own, and that he purchased the maiden, and ate her up.So they lay on the shop-board for weeks and weeks, and grew dry andhard, but the thoughts of the maiden became ever more gentle andmaidenly.“‘It is enough for me that I have lived on the same table with him,’she said, and crack! she broke in two.“‘If she had only known of my love, she would have kept together alittle longer,’ he thought.“And that is the story, and here they are, both of them,” said thebaker in conclusion. “They are remarkable for their curious history,and for their silent love, which never came to anything. And therethey are for you!” and, so saying, he gave Joanna the man who was yetentire, and Knud got the broken maiden; but the children had been somuch impressed by the story that they could not summon courage to eatthe lovers up.On the following day they went out with them to the churchyard, andsat down by the church wall, which is covered, winter and summer, withthe most luxuriant ivy as with a rich carpet. Here they stood the twocake figures up in the sunshine among the green leaves, and told thestory to a group of other children; they told them of the silent lovewhich led to nothing. It was called _love_ because the story was solovely, on that they all agreed. But when they turned to look again atthe gingerbread pair, a big boy, out of mischief, had eaten up thebroken maiden. The children cried about this, and afterwards–probablythat the poor lover might not be left in the world lonely anddesolate–they ate him up too; but they never forgot the story.The children were always together by the elder tree and under thewillow, and the little girl sang the most beautiful songs with a voicethat was clear as a bell. Knud, on the other hand, had not a note ofmusic in him, but he knew the words of the songs, and that, at least,was something. The people of Kjöge, even to the rich wife of thefancy-shop keeper, stood still and listened when Joanna sang. “She hasa very sweet voice, that little girl,” they said.Those were glorious days, but they could not last for ever. Theneighbours were neighbours no longer. The little maiden’s mother wasdead, and the father intended to marry again, in the capital, where hehad been promised a living as a messenger, which was to be a verylucrative office. And the neighbours separated regretfully, thechildren weeping heartily, but the parents promised that they shouldat least write to one another once a year.And Knud was bound apprentice to a shoemaker, for the big boy couldnot be allowed to run wild any longer; and moreover he was confirmed.Ah, how gladly on that day of celebration would he have been inCopenhagen with little Joanna! but he remained in Kjöge, and had neveryet been to Copenhagen, though the little town is only five Danishmiles distant from the capital; but far across the bay, when the skywas clear, Knud had seen the towers in the distance, and on the day ofhis confirmation he could distinctly see the golden cross on theprincipal church glittering in the sun.Ah, how often his thoughts were with Joanna! Did she think of him?Yes. Towards Christmas there came a letter from her father to theparents of Knud, to say that they were getting on very well inCopenhagen, and especially might Joanna look forward to a brilliantfuture on the strength of her fine voice. She had been engaged in thetheatre in which people sing, and was already earning some money, outof which she sent her dear neighbours of Kjöge a dollar for the merryChristmas Eve. They were to drink her health, she had herself added ina postscript, and in the same postscript there stood further, “A kindgreeting to Knud.”The whole family wept: and yet all this was very pleasant; those werejoyful tears that they shed. Knud’s thoughts had been occupied everyday with Joanna; and now he knew that she also thought of him: and thenearer the time came when his apprenticeship would be over, the moreclearly did it appear to him that he was very fond of Joanna, and thatshe must be his wife; and when he thought of this, a smile came uponhis lips, and he drew the thread twice as fast as before, and pressedhis foot hard against the knee-strap. He ran the awl far into hisfinger, but he did not care for that. He determined not to play thedumb lover, as the two gingerbread cakes had done: the story shouldteach him a lesson.And now he was a journeyman, and his knapsack was packed ready for hisjourney: at length, for the first time in his life, he was to go toCopenhagen, where a master was already waiting for him. How gladJoanna would be! She was now seventeen years old, and he nineteen.Already in Kjöge he had wanted to buy a gold ring for her; but herecollected that such things were to be had far better in Copenhagen.And now he took leave of his parents, and on a rainy day, late in theautumn, went forth on foot out of the town of his birth. The leaveswere falling down from the trees, and he arrived at his new master’sin the metropolis wet to the skin. Next Sunday he was to pay a visitto Joanna’s father. The new journeyman’s clothes were brought forth,and the new hat from Kjöge was put on, which became Knud very well,for till this time he had only worn a cap. And he found the house hesought, and mounted flight after flight of stairs until he becamealmost giddy. It was terrible to him to see how people lived piled upone over the other in the dreadful city.Everything in the room had a prosperous look, and Joanna’s fatherreceived him very kindly. To the new wife he was a stranger, but sheshook hands with him, and gave him some coffee.“Joanna will be glad to see you,” said the father: “you have grownquite a nice young man. You shall see her presently. She is a girl whorejoices my heart, and, please God, she will rejoice it yet more. Shehas her own room now, and pays us rent for it.” And the father knockedquite politely at the door, as if he were a visitor, and then theywent in.But how pretty everything was in that room! such an apartment wascertainly not to be found in all Kjöge: the queen herself could not bemore charmingly lodged. There were carpets, there were window curtainsquite down to the floor, and around were flowers and pictures, and amirror into which there was almost danger that a visitor might step,for it was as large as a door; and there was even a velvet chair.Knud saw all this at a glance: and yet he saw nothing but Joanna. Shewas a grown maiden, quite different from what Knud had fancied her,and much more beautiful. In all Kjöge there was not a girl like her.How graceful she was, and with what an odd unfamiliar glance shelooked at Knud! But that was only for a moment, and then she rushedtowards him as if she would have kissed him. She did not really do so,but she came very near it. Yes, she was certainly rejoiced at thearrival of the friend of her youth! The tears were actually in hereyes; and she had much to say, and many questions to put concerningall, from Knud’s parents down to the elder tree and the willow, whichshe called Elder-mother and Willow-father, as if they had been humanbeings; and indeed they might pass as such, just as well as thegingerbread cakes; and of these she spoke too, and of their silentlove, and how they had lain upon the shop-board and split in two–andthen she laughed very heartily; but the blood mounted into Knud’scheeks, and his heart beat thick and fast. No, she had not grown proud at all. And it was through her–he noticed it well–that her parents invited him to stay the whole evening with them; and she poured out the tea and gave him a cup with her own hands; and afterwards she took a book and read aloud to them, and it seemed to Knud that what sheread was all about himself and his love, for it matched so well withhis thoughts; and then she sang a simple song, but through her singingit became like a history, and seemed to be the outpouring of her veryheart. Yes, certainly she was fond of Knud. The tears coursed down hischeeks–he could not restrain them, nor could he speak a single word:he seemed to himself as if he were struck dumb; and yet she pressedhis hand, and said,“You have a good heart, Knud–remain always as you are now.”That was an evening of matchless delight to Knud; to sleep after itwas impossible, and accordingly Knud did not sleep.At parting, Joanna’s father had said, “Now, you won’t forget usaltogether! Don’t let the whole winter go by without once coming tosee us again;” and therefore he could very well go again the nextSunday, and resolved to do so. But every evening when working hourswere over–and they worked by candlelight there–Knud went out throughthe town: he went into the street in which Joanna lived, and looked upat her window; it was almost always lit up, and one evening he couldsee the shadow of her face quite plainly on the curtain–and that wasa grand evening for him. His master’s wife did not like hisgallivanting abroad every evening, as she expressed it; and she shookher head; but the master only smiled.“He is only a young fellow,” he said.But Knud thought to himself: “On Sunday I shall see her, and I shalltell her how completely she reigns in my heart and soul, and that shemust be my little wife. I know I am only a poor journeyman shoemaker,but I shall work and strive–yes, I shall tell her so. Nothing comesof silent love: I have learned that from the cakes.”And Sunday came round, and Knud sallied forth; but, unluckily, theywere all invited out for that evening, and were obliged to tell himso. Joanna pressed his hand and said,“Have you ever been to the theatre? You must go once. I shall sing onWednesday, and if you have time on that evening, I will send you aticket; my father knows where your master lives.”How kind that was of her! And on Wednesday at noon he received asealed paper, with no words written in it; but the ticket was there,and in the evening Knud went to the theatre for the first time in hislife. And what did he see? He saw Joanna, and how charming and howbeautiful she looked! She was certainly married to a stranger, butthat was all in the play–something that was only make-believe, asKnud knew very well. If it had been real, he thought, she would neverhave had the heart to send him a ticket that he might go and see it.And all the people shouted and applauded, and Knud cried out “hurrah!”Even the king smiled at Joanna, and seemed to delight in her. Ah, howsmall Knud felt! but then he loved her so dearly, and thought thatshe loved him too; but it was for the man to speak the first word, asthe gingerbread maiden in the child’s story had taught him: and therewas a great deal for him in that story.So soon as Sunday came, he went again. He felt as if he were goinginto a church. Joanna was alone, and received him–it could not havehappened more fortunately. “It is well that you are come,” she said.“I had an idea of sending my father to you, only I felt a presentimentthat you would be here this evening; for I must tell you that I startfor France on Friday: I must go there, if I am to become efficient.”It seemed to Knud as if the whole room were whirling round and roundwith him. He felt as if his heart would presently burst: no tear roseto his eyes, but still it was easy to see how sorrowful he was.“You honest, faithful soul!” she exclaimed; and these words of hersloosened Knud’s tongue. He told her how constantly he loved her, andthat she must become his wife; and as he said this, he saw Joannachange colour and turn pale. She let his hand fall, and answered,seriously and mournfully,“Knud, do not make yourself and me unhappy. I shall always be a goodsister to you, one in whom you may trust, but I shall never beanything more.” And she drew her white hand over his hot forehead.“Heaven gives us strength for much,” she said, “if we only endeavourto do our best.”At that moment the stepmother came into the room; and Joanna saidquickly,“Knud is quite inconsolable because I am going away. Come, be a man,”she continued, and laid her hand upon his shoulder; and it seemed asif they had been talking of the journey, and nothing else. “You are achild,” she added; “but now you must be good and reasonable, as youused to be under the willow tree, when we were both children.”But Knud felt as if the whole world had slid out of its course, andhis thoughts were like a loose thread fluttering to and fro in thewind. He stayed, though he could not remember if she had asked him tostay; and she was kind and good, and poured out his tea for him, andsang to him. It had not the old tone, and yet it was wonderfullybeautiful, and made his heart feel ready to burst. And then theyparted. Knud did not offer her his hand, but she seized it, and said,“Surely you will shake hands with your sister at parting, oldplayfellow!”And she smiled through the tears that were rolling over her cheeks,and she repeated the word “brother”–and certainly there was goodconsolation in that–and thus they parted.She sailed to France, and Knud wandered about the muddy streets ofCopenhagen. The other journeymen in the workshop asked him why he wentabout so gloomily, and told him he should go and amuse himself withthem, for he was a young fellow.And they went with him to the dancing-rooms. He saw many handsomegirls there, but certainly not one like Joanna; and here, where hethought to forget her, she stood more vividly than ever before theeyes of his soul. “Heaven gives us strength for a great deal, if weonly try to do our best,” she had said; and holy thoughts came intohis mind, and he folded his hands. The violins played, and the girlsdanced round in a circle; and he was quite startled, for it seemed tohim as if he were in a place to which he ought not to have broughtJoanna–for she was there with him, in his heart; and accordingly hewent out. He ran through the streets, and passed by the house whereshe had dwelt: it was dark there, dark everywhere, and empty, andlonely. The world went on its course, but Knud pursued his lonely way,unheedingly.The winter came, and the streams were frozen. Everything seemed to bepreparing for a burial. But when spring returned, and the firststeamer was to start, a longing seized him to go away, far, far intothe world, but not to France. So he packed his knapsack, and wanderedfar into the German land, from city to city, without rest or peace;and it was not till he came to the glorious old city of Nuremberg thathe could master his restless spirit; and in Nuremberg, therefore, hedecided to remain.Nuremberg is a wonderful old city, and looks as if it were cut out ofan old picture-book. The streets seem to stretch themselves along justas they please. The houses do not like standing in regular ranks.Gables with little towers, arabesques, and pillars, start out over thepathway, and from the strange peaked roofs water-spouts, formed likedragons or great slim dogs, extend far over the street.Here in the market-place stood Knud, with his knapsack on his back. Hestood by one of the old fountains that are adorned with splendidbronze figures, scriptural and historical, rising up between thegushing jets of water. A pretty servant-maid was just filling herpails, and she gave Knud a refreshing draught; and as her hand wasfull of roses, she gave him one of the flowers, and he accepted it asa good omen.From the neighbouring church the strains of the organ were sounding:they seemed to him as familiar as the tones of the organ at home atKjöge; and he went into the great cathedral. The sunlight streamed inthrough the stained glass windows, between the two lofty slenderpillars. His spirit became prayerful, and peace returned to his soul.And he sought and found a good master in Nuremberg, with whom hestayed, and in whose house he learned the German language.The old moat round the town has been converted into a number of littlekitchen gardens; but the high walls are standing yet, with their heavytowers. The ropemaker twists his ropes on a gallery or walk built ofwood, inside the town wall, where elder bushes grow out of the cleftsand cracks, spreading their green twigs over the little low housesthat stand below; and in one of these dwelt the master with whom Knudworked; and over the little garret window at which Knud sat the elderwaved its branches.Here he lived through a summer and a winter; but when the spring cameagain he could bear it no longer. The elder was in blossom, and itsfragrance reminded him so of home, that he fancied himself back in thegarden at Kjöge; and therefore Knud went away from his master, anddwelt with another, farther in the town, over whose house no elderbush grew.His workshop was quite close to one of the old stone bridges, by a lowwater-mill, that rushed and foamed always. Without, rolled the roaringstream, hemmed in by houses, whose old decayed gables looked ready totopple down into the water. No elder grew here–there was not even aflower-pot with its little green plant; but just opposite the workshopstood a great old willow tree, that seemed to cling fast to the house,for fear of being carried away by the water, and which stretched forthits branches over the river, just as the willow at Kjöge spread itsarms across the streamlet by the gardens there.Yes, he had certainly gone from the “Elder-mother” to the“Willow-father.” The tree here had something, especially on moonlightevenings, that went straight to his heart–and that something was notin the moonlight, but in the old tree itself.Nevertheless, he could not remain. Why not? Ask the willow tree, askthe blooming elder! And therefore he bade farewell to his master inNuremberg, and journeyed onward.To no one did he speak of Joanna–in his secret heart he hid hissorrow; and he thought of the deep meaning in the old childish storyof the two cakes. Now he understood why the man had a bitter almond inhis breast–he himself felt the bitterness of it; and Joanna, who wasalways so gentle and kind, was typified by the honey-cake. The strapof his knapsack seemed so tight across his chest that he couldscarcely breathe; he loosened it, but was not relieved. He saw buthalf the world around him; the other half he carried about him, andwithin himself. And thus it stood with him.Not till he came in sight of the high mountains did the world appearfreer to him; and now his thoughts were turned without, and tears cameinto his eyes.The Alps appeared to him as the folded wings of the earth; how if theywere to unfold themselves, and display their variegated pictures ofblack woods, foaming waters, clouds, and masses of snow? At the lastday, he thought, the world will lift up its great wings, and mountupwards towards the sky, and burst like a soap-bubble in the glance ofthe Highest!“Ah,” sighed he, “that the Last Day were come!”Silently he wandered through the land, that seemed to him as anorchard covered with soft turf. From the wooden balconies of thehouses the girls who sat busy with their lace-making nodded at him;the summits of the mountains glowed in the red sun of the evening;and when he saw the green lakes gleaming among the dark trees, hethought of the coast by the Bay of Kjöge, and there was a longing inhis bosom, but it was pain no more.There where the Rhine rolls onward like a great billow, and bursts,and is changed into snow-white, gleaming, cloud-like masses, as ifclouds were being created there, with the rainbow fluttering like aloose band above them; there he thought of the water-mill at Kjöge,with its rushing, foaming water.Gladly would he have remained in the quiet Rhenish town, but here toowere too many elder trees and willows, and therefore he journeyed on,over the high, mighty mountains, through shattered walls of rock, andon roads that clung like swallows’ nests to the mountain-side. Thewaters foamed on in the depths, the clouds were below him, and hestrode on over thistles, Alpine roses, and snow, in the warm summersun; and saying farewell to the lands of the North, he passed on underthe shade of blooming chestnut trees, and through vineyards and fieldsof maize. The mountains were a wall between him and all hisrecollections; and he wished it to be so.Before him lay a great glorious city which they called _Milano_, andhere he found a German master who gave him work. They were an oldpious couple, in whose workshop he now laboured. And the two oldpeople became quite fond of the quiet journeyman, who said little, butworked all the more, and led a pious Christian life. To himself alsoit seemed as if Heaven had lifted the heavy burden from his heart.His favourite pastime was to mount now and then upon the mighty marblechurch, which seemed to him to have been formed of the snow of hisnative land, fashioned into roofs, and pinnacles, and decorated openhalls: from every corner and every point the white statues smiled uponhim. Above him was the blue sky, below him the city and thewide-spreading Lombard plains, and towards the north the highmountains clad with perpetual snow; and he thought of the church atKjöge, with its red, ivy-covered walls, but he did not long to gothither: here, beyond the mountains, he would be buried.He had dwelt here a year, and three years had passed away since heleft his home, when one day his master took him into the city, not tothe circus where riders exhibited, but to the opera, where was a hallworth seeing. There were seven storeys, from each of which beautifulsilken curtains hung down, and from the ground to the dizzy height ofthe roof sat elegant ladies, with bouquets of flowers in their hands,as if they were at a ball, and the gentlemen were in full dress, andmany of them decorated with gold and silver. It was as bright there asin the brilliant sunshine, and the music rolled gloriously throughthe building. Everything was much more splendid than in the theatre atCopenhagen, but then Joanna had been there, and—-could it be? Yes,it was like magic–she was here also! for the curtain rose, and Joannaappeared, dressed in silk and gold, with a crown upon her head: shesang as he thought none but angels could sing, and came far forward,quite to the front of the stage, and smiled as only Joanna couldsmile, and looked straight down at Knud. Poor Knud seized his master’shand, and called out aloud, “Joanna!” but no one heard but the master,who nodded his head, for the loud music sounded above everything.“Yes, yes, her name is Joanna,” said the master; and he drew forth aprinted playbill, and showed Knud her name–for the full name wasprinted there.No, it was not a dream! All the people applauded, and threw wreathsand flowers to her, and every time she went away they called her back,so that she was always going and coming.In the street the people crowded round her carriage, and drew it awayin triumph. Knud was in the foremost row, and shouted as joyously asany; and when the carriage stopped before her brilliantly lightedhouse, Knud stood close beside the door of the carriage. It flew open,and she stepped out: the light fell upon her dear face, as she smiled,and made a kindly gesture of thanks, and appeared deeply moved. Knudlooked straight into her face, and she looked into his, but she didnot know him. A man, with a star glittering on his breast, gave herhis arm–and it was whispered about that the two were engaged.Then Knud went home and packed his knapsack. He was determined to goback to his own home, to the elder and the willow tree–ah, under thewillow tree! A whole life is sometimes lived through in a single hour.The old couple begged him to remain, but no words could induce him tostay. It was in vain they told him that winter was coming, and pointedout that snow had already fallen in the mountains; he said he couldmarch on, with his knapsack on his back, in the wake of theslow-moving carriage, for which they would have to clear a path.So he went away towards the mountains, and marched up them and downthem. His strength was giving way, but still he saw no village, nohouse; he marched on towards the north. The stars gleamed above him,his feet stumbled, and his head grew dizzy. Deep in the valley starswere shining too, and it seemed as if there were another sky belowhim. He felt he was ill. The stars below him became more and morenumerous, and glowed brighter and brighter, and moved to and fro. Itwas a little town whose lights beamed there; and when he understoodthat, he exerted the remains of his strength, and at last reached theshelter of a humble inn.That night and the whole of the following day he remained there, forhis body required rest and refreshment. It was thawing; there was rainin the valley. But early on the second morning came a man with anorgan, who played a tune of home; and now Knud could stay no longer.He continued his journey towards the north, marching onward for manydays with haste and hurry, as if he were trying to get home before allwere dead there; but to no one did he speak of his longing, for no onewould have believed in the sorrow of his heart, the deepest a humanheart can feel. Such a grief is not for the world, for it is notamusing; nor is it even for friends; and moreover he had no friends–astranger, he wandered through strange lands towards his home in thenorth.It was evening. He was walking on the public high-road. The frostbegan to make itself felt, and the country soon became flatter,containing mere field and meadow. By the road-side grew a great willowtree. Everything reminded him of home, and he sat down under the tree:he felt very tired, his head began to nod, and his eyes closed inslumber, but still he was conscious that the tree stretched its armsabove him; and in his wandering fancy the tree itself appeared to bean old, mighty man–it seemed as if the “Willow-father” himself hadtaken up his tired son in his arms, and were carrying him back intothe land of home, to the bare bleak shore of Kjöge, to the garden ofhis childhood. Yes, he dreamed it was the willow tree of Kjöge thathad travelled out into the world to seek him, and that now had foundhim, and had led him back into the little garden by the streamlet, andthere stood Joanna, in all her splendour, with the golden crown on herhead, as he had seen her last, and she called out “welcome” to him.And before him stood two remarkable shapes, which looked much morehuman than he remembered them to have been in his childhood: they hadchanged also, but they were still the two cakes that turned the rightside towards him, and looked very well.“We thank you,” they said to Knud. “You have loosened our tongues, andhave taught us that thoughts should be spoken out freely, or nothingwill come of them; and now something has indeed come of it–we arebetrothed.”Then they went hand in hand through the streets of Kjöge, and theylooked very respectable in every way: there was no fault to find with_them_. And they went on, straight towards the church, and Knud andJoanna followed them; they also were walking hand in hand; and thechurch stood there as it had always stood, with its red walls, onwhich the green ivy grew; and the great door of the church flew open,and the organ sounded, and they walked up the long aisle of thechurch. “Our master first,” said the cake-couple, and made room forJoanna and Knud, who knelt by the altar, and she bent her head overhim, and tears fell from her eyes, but they were icy cold, for it wasthe ice around her heart that was melting–melting by his strong love;and the tears fell upon his burning cheeks, and he awoke, and wassitting under the old willow tree in the strange land, in the coldwintry evening: an icy hail was falling from the clouds and beating onhis face.“That was the most delicious hour of my life!” he said, “and it wasbut a dream. Oh, let me dream again!” And he closed his eyes oncemore, and slept and dreamed.Towards morning there was a great fall of snow. The wind drifted thesnow over him, but he slept on. The villagers came forth to go tochurch, and by the road-side sat a journeyman. He was dead–frozen todeath under the willow tree!
This story is known generally in the southern Islands. The Ongloc is feared by the children just as some little boys and girls fear the Bogy Man. The tale is a favorite one among the children and they believe firmly in the fate of Quicoy.Little Quicoy’s name was Francisco, but every one called him Quicoy, which, in Visayan, is the pet name for Francisco. He was a good little boy and helped his mother grind the corn and pound the rice in the big wooden bowl, but one night he was very careless. While playing in the corner with the cat he upset the jar of lubi lana, and all the oil ran down between the bamboo strips in the floor and was lost. There was none left to put in the glass and light, so the whole family had to go to bed in the dark.Quicoy’s mother was angry. She whipped him with her chinela and then opened the window and cried:“Ongloc of the mountains!Fly in through the door.Catch Quicoy and eat him,He is mine no more.”Quicoy was badly frightened when he heard this, for the Ongloc is a big black man with terrible long teeth, who all night goes searching for the bad boys and girls that he may change them into little cocoanuts and put them on a shelf in his rock house in the mountains to eat when he is hungry.So when Quicoy went to his bed in the corner he pulled the matting over his head and was so afraid that he did not go to sleep for a long time.The next morning he rose very early and went down to the spring where the boys get the water to put in the bamboo poles and carry home. Some boys were already there, and he told them what had taken place the night before. They were all sorry that his mother had called the Ongloc, but they told him not to be afraid for they would tell him how he could be forever safe from that terrible man.It was very easy. All he had to do was to go at dusk to the cocoanut grove by the river and dig holes under two trees. Then he was to climb a tree, get the cocoanut that grew the highest, and, after taking off the husk and punching in one of the little eyes, whisper inside:“Ongloc of the mountains!Ongloc! Ugly man!I’m a little cocoanut,Catch me if you can!”Then he was to cut the cocoanut in halves, quickly bury one piece in one of the holes, and, running to the other tree, bury the remaining half in the other hole. After that he might walk home safely, being sure not to run, for the Ongloc has always to obey the call of the cocoanut, and must hunt through the grove to find the one that called him. Should he cross the line between the holes, the buried pieces would fly out of the holes, snap together on him, and, flying up the tree from which they came, would keep him prisoner for a hundred years.Quicoy was happy to think that he could capture the Ongloc, and resolved to go that very night. He wanted some of the boys to go with him, but they said he must go alone or the charm would be broken. They also told him to be careful himself and not cross the line between the holes or he would be caught as easily as the Ongloc.So Quicoy went home and kept very quiet all day. His mother was sorry she had frightened him the night before, and was going to tell him not to be afraid; but when she thought of the lubi lana spilled on the ground, she resolved to punish him more by saying nothing to him.Just at dark, when no one was looking, Quicoy took his father’s bolo and quietly slipped away to the grove down by the river. He was not afraid of ladrones, but he needed the bolo because it is not easy to open a cocoanut, and it takes some time, even with a bolo, to get the husk chopped from the fruit.Quicoy felt a little frightened when he saw all the big trees around him. The wind made strange noises in the branches high above him, and all the trees seemed to be leaning over and trying to speak to him. He felt somewhat sorry that he had come, but when he thought of the Ongloc he mustered up courage and went on until he found an open space between two high trees.He stopped here and dug a hole under each of the trees. Then he put his feet in the notches and climbed one of the trees. It was hard work, for the notches were far apart; but at last he reached the branches and climbed to the top. The wind rocked the tree and made him dizzy, but he reached the highest cocoanut, threw it to the ground, and then ‘started down the tree. It was easy to come down, though he went too fast and slipped and slid some distance, skinning his arms and legs. He did not mind that, however, for he knew he had the cocoanut that would capture the Ongloc. He picked it up, chopped off the husk, punched in one of the little eyes, and whispered inside:“Ongloc of the mountains!Ongloc! Ugly man!I’m a little cocoanut,Catch me if you can!”He then chopped it in halves and buried one piece, and, running to the other tree, buried the remaining piece. Just as he finished he thought he heard a noise in the grove, and, instead of walking, he started to run as fast as he could.It was very dark now, and the noise grew louder and made him run faster and faster, until suddenly a dreadful scream sounded directly in front of him, and a terrible black thing with fiery eyes came flying at him. He turned in terror and ran back toward the trees. He knew it was the Ongloc answering the call of the cocoanut, and he ran like mad, but the monster had seen him and flew after him, screaming with rage.Faster and faster he ran, but nearer and nearer sounded the frightful screams until, just as he felt two huge claws close on his neck, there was a bump, a loud snap, and he felt himself being carried high in the air. When the shock was over he found that he was squeezed tightly between two hard walls, and he could hear the Ongloc screaming and tearing at the outside with his claws. Then he knew what had happened.He had crossed the line between the buried pieces and they had snapped on him and carried him up the tree from which they came. He was badly squeezed but he felt safe from the Ongloc, who finally went away in disappointment; for, although he likes cocoanuts, he cannot take one from a tree, but must change a boy or girl into the fruit if he wishes to eat of it.Quicoy waited a long, long time and then knocked on the shell in the hope that some one would hear him. All that night and the next day and the next he knocked and cried and knocked, but, though people passed under the tree and found the bolo, he was so high up they did not hear him.Days and weeks went by and the people wondered what had become of Quicoy. Many thought he had run away and were sorry for his poor mother, who grieved very much to think she had terrified him by calling the Ongloc. Of course the boys who had sent him to the grove could have told something of his whereabouts, but they were frightened and said nothing, so no one ever heard of poor little Quicoy again.If you pass a cocoanut grove at night you can hear a noise like some one knocking. The older people say that the cocoanuts grow so closely together high up in the branches that the wind, when it shakes the tree, bumps them together. But the children know better. They say, “Quicoy is knocking to get out, but he must stay there a hundred years.”
Once upon a time there was a little boy who lost his parents; so he went to live with his Auntie, and she set him to herd sheep. All day long the little fellow wandered barefoot through the pathless plain, tending his flock, and playing his tiny shepherd’s pipe from morn till eve.But one day came a great big wolf, and looked hungrily at the small shepherd and his fat sheep, saying, ‘Little boy! shall I eat you, or your sheep?’ Then the little boy answered politely, ‘I don’t know, Mr. Wolf; I must ask my Auntie.’So all day long he piped away on his tiny pipe, and in the evening, when he brought the flock home, he went to his Auntie and said, ‘Auntie dear, a great big wolf asked me to-day if he should eat me, or your sheep. Which shall it be?’Then his Auntie looked at the wee little shepherd, and at the fat flock, and said sharply, ‘Which shall it be?—why, you, of course!’So next morning the little boy drove his flock out into the pathless plain, and blew away cheerfully on his shepherd’s pipe until the great big wolf appeared. Then he laid aside his pipe, and, going up to the savage beast, said, ‘Oh, if you please, Mr. Wolf, I asked my Auntie, and she says you are to eat me.’Now the wolf, savage as wolves always are, could not help having just a spark of pity for the tiny barefoot shepherd who played his pipe so sweetly, therefore he said kindly, ‘Could I do anything for you, little boy, after I’ve eaten you?’‘Thank you!’ returned the tiny shepherd. ‘If you would be so kind, after you’ve picked the bones, as to thread my anklebone on a string and hang it on the tree that weeps over the pond yonder, I shall be much obliged.’So the wolf ate the little shepherd, picked the bones, and afterwards hung the anklebone by a string to the branches of the tree, where it danced and swung in the sunlight.Now, one day, three robbers, who had just robbed a palace, happening to pass that way, sat down under the tree and began to divide the spoil. Just as they had arranged all the golden dishes and precious jewels and costly stuffs into three heaps, a jackal howled. Now you must know that thieves always use the jackal’s cry as a note of warning, so that when at the very same moment Little Anklebone’s thread snapped, and he fell plump on the head of the chief robber, the man imagined some one had thrown a pebble at him, and, shouting ‘Run! run!—we are discovered!’ he bolted away as hard as he could, followed by his companions, leaving all the treasure behind them.‘Now,’ said Little Anklebone to himself, ‘I shall lead a fine life!’So he gathered the treasure together, and sat under the tree that drooped over the pond, and played so sweetly on a new shepherd’s pipe, that all the beasts of the forest, and the birds of the air, and the fishes of the pond came to listen to him. Then Little Anklebone put marble basins round the pond for the animals to drink out of, and in the evening the does, and the tigresses, and the she-wolves gathered round him to be milked, and when he had drunk his fill he milked the rest into the pond, till at last it became a pond of milk. And Little Anklebone sat by the milken pond and piped away on his shepherd’s pipe.Now, one day, an old woman, passing by with her jar for water, heard the sweet strains of Little Anklebone’s pipe, and following the sound, came upon the pond of milk, and saw the animals, and the birds, and the fishes, listening to the music. She was wonderstruck, especially when Little Anklebone, from his seat under the tree, called out, ‘Fill your jar, mother! All drink who come hither!’Then the old woman filled her jar with milk, and went on her way rejoicing at her good fortune. But as she journeyed she met with the King of that country, who, having been a-hunting, had lost his way in the pathless plain.‘Give me a drink of water, good mother,’ he cried, seeing the jar; ‘I am half dead with thirst!’‘It is milk, my son,’ replied the old woman; ‘I got it yonder from a milken pond.’ Then she told the King of the wonders she had seen, so that he resolved to have a peep at them himself. And when he saw the milken pond, and all the animals and birds and fishes gathered round, while Little Anklebone played ever so sweetly on his shepherd’s pipe, he said, ‘I must have the tiny piper, if I die for it!’No sooner did Little Anklebone hear these words than he set off at a run, and the King after him. Never was there such a chase before or since, for Little Anklebone hid himself amid the thickest briars and thorns, and the King was so determined to have the tiny piper, that he did not care for scratches. At last the King was successful, but no sooner did he take hold of Little Anklebone than the clouds above began to thunder and lighten horribly, and from below came the lowing of many does, and louder than all came the voice of the little piper himself singing these words—  ‘O clouds! why should you storm and flare?Poor Anklebone is forced to roam.O does! why wait the milker’s care?Poor Anklebone must leave his home.’And he sang so piercingly sweet that pity filled the King’s heart, especially when he saw it was nothing but a bone after all. So he let it go again, and the little piper went back to his seat under the tree by the pond; and there he sits still, and plays his shepherd’s pipe, while all the beasts of the forest, and birds of the air, and fishes of the pond, gather round and listen to his music. And sometimes, people wandering through the pathless plain hear the pipe, and then they say, ‘That is Little Anklebone, who was eaten by a wolf ages ago!’
Waupee, or the White Hawk, lived in a remote part of the forest, where animals abounded. Every day he returned from the chase with a large spoil, for he was one of the most skillful and lucky hunters of his tribe. His form was like the cedar; the fire of youth beamed from his eye; there was no forest too gloomy for him to penetrate, and no track made by bird or beast of any kind which he could not readily follow.One day he had gone beyond any point which he had ever before visited. He traveled through an open wood, which enabled him to see a great distance. At length he beheld a light breaking through the foliage of the distant trees, which made him sure that he was on the borders of a prairie. It was a wide plain, covered with long blue grass, and enameled with flowers of a thousand lovely tints.After walking for some time without a path, musing upon the open country, and enjoying the fragrant breeze, he suddenly came to a ring worn among the grass and the flowers, as if it had been made by footsteps moving lightly round and round. But it was strange—so strange as to cause the White Hawk to pause and gaze long and fixedly upon the ground—there was no path which led to this flowery circle. There was not even a crushed leaf nor a broken twig, nor the least trace of a footstep, approaching or retiring, to be found. He thought he would hide himself and lie in wait to discover, if he could, what this strange circle meant.Presently he heard the faint sounds of music in the air. He looked up in the direction they came from, and as the magic notes died away he saw a small object, like a little summer cloud that approaches the earth, floating down from above. At first it was very small, and seemed as if it could have been blown away by the first breeze that came along; but it rapidly grew as he gazed upon it, and the music every moment came clearer and more sweetly to his ear. As it neared the earth it appeared as a basket, and it was filled with twelve sisters, of the most lovely forms and enchanting beauty.As soon as the basket touched the ground they leaped out, and began straightway to dance, in the most joyous manner, around the magic ring, striking, as they did so, a shining ball, which uttered the most ravishing melodies, and kept time as they danced.The White Hawk, from his concealment, entranced, gazed upon their graceful forms and movements. He admired them all, but he was most pleased with the youngest. He longed to be at her side, to embrace her, to call her his own; and unable to remain longer a silent admirer, he rushed out and endeavored to seize this twelfth beauty who so enchanted him. But the sisters, with the quickness of birds, the moment they descried the form of a man, leaped back into the basket, and were drawn up into the sky.Lamenting his ill-luck, Waupee gazed longingly upon the fairy basket as it ascended and bore the lovely sisters from his view. “They are gone,” he said, “and I shall see them no more.”He returned to his solitary lodge, but he found no relief to his mind. He walked abroad, but to look at the sky, which had withdrawn from his sight the only being he had ever loved, was painful to him now.The next day, selecting the same hour, the White Hawk went back to the prairie, and took his station near the ring; in order to deceive the sisters, he assumed the form of an opossum, and sat among the grass as if he were there engaged in chewing the cud. He had not waited long when he saw the cloudy basket descend, and heard the same sweet music falling as before. He crept slowly toward the ring; but the instant the sisters caught sight of him they were startled, and sprang into their car. It rose a short distance when one of the elder sisters spoke:“Perhaps,” she said, “it is come to show us how the game is played by mortals.”“Oh no,” the youngest replied; “quick, let us ascend.”And all joining in a chant, they rose out of sight.Waupee, casting off his disguise, walked sorrowfully back to his lodge—but ah, the night seemed very long to lonely White Hawk! His whole soul was filled with the thought of the beautiful sister.Betimes, the next day, he returned to the haunted spot, hoping and fearing, and sighing as though his very soul would leave his body in its anguish. He reflected upon the plan he should follow to secure success. He had already failed twice; to fail a third time would be fatal. Near by he found an old stump, much covered with moss, and just then in use as the residence of a number of mice, who had stopped there on a pilgrimage to some relatives on the other side of the prairie. The White Hawk was so pleased with their tidy little forms that he thought he, too, would be a mouse, especially as they were by no means formidable to look at, and would not be at all likely to create alarm.He accordingly, having first brought the stump and set it near the ring, without further notice became a mouse, and peeped and sported about, and kept his sharp little eyes busy with the others; but he did not forget to keep one eye up toward the sky, and one ear wide open in the same direction.It was not long before the sisters, at their customary hour, came down and resumed their sport.“But see,” cried the younger sister, “that stump was not there before.”She ran off, frightened, toward the basket. Her sisters only smiled, and gathering round the old tree-stump, they struck it, in jest, when out ran the mice, and among them Waupee. They killed them all but one, which was pursued by the younger sister. Just as she had raised a silver stick which she held in her hand to put an end to it, too, the form of the White Hawk arose, and he clasped his prize in his arms. The other eleven sprang to their basket, and were drawn up to the skies.Waupee exerted all his skill to please his bride and win her affections. He wiped the tears from her eyes; he related his adventures in the chase; he dwelt upon the charms of life on the earth. He was constant in his attentions, keeping fondly by her side, and picking out the way for her to walk as he led her gently toward his lodge. He felt his heart glow with joy as he entered it, and from that moment he was one of the happiest of men.Winter and summer passed rapidly away, and as the spring drew near with its balmy gales and its many-colored flowers, their happiness was increased by the presence of a beautiful boy in their lodge. What more of earthly blessing was there for them to enjoy?Waupee’s wife was a daughter of one of the stars; and as the scenes of earth began to pall upon her sight, she sighed to revisit her father. But she was obliged to hide these feelings from her husband. She remembered the charm that would carry her up, and while White Hawk was engaged in the chase, she took occasion to construct a wicker basket, which she kept concealed. In the mean time, she collected such rarities from the earth as she thought would please her father, as well as the most dainty kinds of food.One day when Waupee was absent, and all was in readiness, she went out to the charmed ring, taking with her her little son. As they entered the car she commenced her magical song, and the basket rose. The song was sad, and of a lowly and mournful cadence, and as it was wafted far away by the wind, it caught her husband’s ear. It was a voice which he well knew, and he instantly ran to the prairie. Though he made breathless speed, he could not reach the ring before his wife and child had ascended beyond his reach. He lifted up his voice in loud appeals, but they were unavailing. The basket still went up. He watched it till it became a small speck, and finally it vanished in the sky. He then bent his head down to the ground, and was miserable.Through a long winter and a long summer Waupee bewailed his loss, but he found no relief. The beautiful spirit had come and gone, and he should see it no more!He mourned his wife’s loss sorely, but his son’s still more; for the boy had both the mother’s beauty and the father’s strength.In the mean time his wife had reached her home in the stars, and in the blissful employments of her father’s house she had almost forgotten that she had left a husband upon the earth. But her son, as he grew up, resembled more and more his father, and every day he was restless and anxious to visit the scene of his birth. His grandfather said to his daughter, one day:“Go, my child, and take your son down to his father, and ask him to come up and live with us. But tell him to bring along a specimen of each kind of bird and animal he kills in the chase.”She accordingly took the boy and descended. The White Hawk, who was ever near the enchanted spot, heard her voice as she came down the sky. His heart beat with impatience as he saw her form and that of his son, and they were soon clasped in his arms.He heard the message of the Star, and he began to hunt with the greatest activity, that he might collect the present with all dispatch. He spent whole nights, as well as days, in searching for every curious and beautiful animal and bird. He only preserved a foot, a wing, or a tail of each.When all was ready, Waupee visited once more each favorite spot—the hill-top whence he had been used to see the rising sun; the stream where he had sported as a boy; the old lodge, now looking sad and solemn, which he was to sit in no more; and last of all, coming to the magic circle, he gazed widely around him with tearful eyes, and, taking his wife and child by the hand, they entered the car and were drawn up—into a country far beyond the flight of birds, or the power of mortal eye to pierce.Great joy was manifested upon their arrival at the starry plains. The Star Chief invited all his people to a feast; and when they had assembled, he proclaimed aloud that each one might continue as he was, an inhabitant of his own dominions, or select of the earthly gifts such as he liked best. A very strange confusion immediately arose; not one but sprang forward. Some chose a foot, some a wing, some a tail, and some a claw. Those who selected tails or claws were changed into animals, and ran off; the others assumed the form of birds, and flew away. Waupee chose a white hawk’s feather. His wife and son followed his example, and each one became a white hawk. He spread his wings, and, followed by his wife and son, descended with the other birds to the earth, where he is still to be found, with the brightness of the starry plains in his eye, and the freedom of the heavenly breezes in his wings.
When the dishes are washed at night time and the cool of the evening has come in summer or the lamps and fires are lit for the night in winter, then the fathers and mothers in the Rootabaga Country sometimes tell the young people the story of the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy.The White Horse Girl grew up far in the west of the Rootabaga Country. All the years she grew up as a girl she liked to ride horses. Best of all things for her was to be straddle of a white horse loping with a loose bridle among the hills and along the rivers of the west Rootabaga Country.She rode one horse white as snow, another horse white as new washed sheep wool, and another white as silver. And she could not tell because she did not know which of these three white horses she liked best.“Snow is beautiful enough for me any time,” she said, “new washed sheep wool, or silver out of a ribbon of the new moon, any or either is white enough for me. I like the white manes, the white flanks, the white noses, the white feet of all my ponies. I like the forelocks hanging down between the white ears of all three—my ponies.”And living neighbor to the White Horse Girl in the same prairie country, with the same black crows flying over their places, was the Blue Wind Boy. All the years he grew up as a boy he liked to walk with his feet in the dirt and the grass listening to the winds. Best of all things for him was to put on strong shoes and go hiking among the hills and along the rivers of the west Rootabaga Country, listening to the winds.There was a blue wind of day time, starting sometimes six o’clock on a summer morning or eight o’clock on a winter morning. And there was a night wind with blue of summer stars in summer and blue of winter stars in winter. And there was yet another, a blue wind of the times between night and day, a blue dawn and evening wind. All three of these winds he liked so well he could not say which he liked best.“The early morning wind is strong as the prairie and whatever I tell it I know it believes and remembers,” he said, “and the night wind with the big dark curves of the night sky in it, the night wind gets inside of me and understands all my secrets. And the blue wind of the times between, in the dusk when it is neither night nor day, this is the wind that asks me questions and tells me to wait and it will bring me whatever I want.”Of course, it happened as it had to happen, the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy met. She, straddling one of her white horses, and he, wearing his strong hiking shoes in the dirt and the grass, it had to happen they should meet among the hills and along the rivers of the west Rootabaga Country where they lived neighbors.And of course, she told him all about the snow white horse and the horse white as new washed sheep wool and the horse white as a silver ribbon of the new moon. And he told her all about the blue winds he liked listening to, the early morning wind, the night sky wind, and the wind of the dusk between, the wind that asked him questions and told him to wait.One day the two of them were gone. On the same day of the week the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy went away. And their fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers and uncles and aunts wondered about them and talked about them, because they didn’t tell anybody beforehand they were going. Nobody at all knew beforehand or afterward why they were going away, the real honest why of it.They left a short letter. It read:To All Our Sweethearts, Old Folks and Young Folks:We have started to go where the white horses come from and where the blue winds begin. Keep a corner in your hearts for us while we are gone.The White Horse Girl.The Blue Wind Boy.That was all they had to guess by in the west Rootabaga Country, to guess and guess where two darlings had gone.Many years passed. One day there came riding across the Rootabaga Country a Gray Man on Horseback. He looked like he had come a long ways. So they asked him the question they always asked of any rider who looked like he had come a long ways, “Did you ever see the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy?”“Yes,” he answered, “I saw them.“It was a long, long ways from here I saw them,” he went on, “it would take years and years to ride to where they are. They were sitting together and talking to each other, sometimes singing, in a place where the land runs high and tough rocks reach up. And they were looking out across water, blue water as far as the eye could see. And away far off the blue waters met the blue sky.“‘Look!’ said the Boy, ‘that’s where the blue winds begin.’“And far out on the blue waters, just a little this side of where the blue winds begin, there were white manes, white flanks, white noses, white galloping feet.“‘Look!’ said the Girl, ‘that’s where the white horses come from.’“And then nearer to the land came thousands in an hour, millions in a day, white horses, some white as snow, some like new washed sheep wool, some white as silver ribbons of the new moon.“I asked them, ‘Whose place is this?’ They answered, ‘It belongs to us; this is what we started for; this is where the white horses come from; this is where the blue winds begin.’”And that was all the Gray Man on Horseback would tell the people of the west Rootabaga Country. That was all he knew, he said, and if there was any more he would tell it.And the fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers and uncles and aunts of the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy wondered and talked often about whether the Gray Man on Horseback made up the story out of his head or whether it happened just like he told it.Anyhow this is the story they tell sometimes to the young people of the west Rootabaga Country when the dishes are washed at night and the cool of the evening has come in summer or the lamps and fires are lit for the night in winter.
A Waggoneer was once driving a heavy load along a very muddy way. At last he came to a part of the road where the wheels sank half-way into the mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So the Waggoneer threw down his whip, and knelt down and prayed to Hercules the Strong. “O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress,” quoth he. But Hercules appeared to him, and said: “Tut, man, don’t sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel.” The gods help them that help themselves.
It generally happens that people’s surroundings reflect more or less accurately their minds and dispositions, so perhaps that is why the Flower Fairy lived in a lovely palace, with the most delightful garden you can imagine, full of flowers, and trees, and fountains, and fish-ponds, and everything nice. For the Fairy herself was so kind and charming that everybody loved her, and all the young princes and princesses who formed her court, were as happy as the day was long, simply because they were near her. They came to her when they were quite tiny, and never left her until they were grown up and had to go away into the great world; and when that time came she gave to each whatever gift he asked of her. But it is chiefly of the Princess Sylvia that you are going to hear now.The Fairy loved her with all her heart, for she was at once original and gentle, and she had nearly reached the age at which the gifts were generally bestowed. However, the Fairy had a great wish to know how the other princesses who had grown up and left her, were prospering, and before the time came for Sylvia to go herself, she resolved to send her to some of them.So one day her chariot, drawn by butterflies, was made ready, and the Fairy said: ‘Sylvia, I am going to send you to the court of Iris; she will receive you with pleasure for my sake as well as for your own. In two months you may come back to me again, and I shall expect you to tell me what you think of her.’Sylvia was very unwilling to go away, but as the Fairy wished it she said nothing–only when the two months were over she stepped joyfully into the butterfly chariot, and could not get back quickly enough to the Flower-Fairy, who, for her part, was equally delighted to see her again.‘Now, child,’ said she, ‘tell me what impression you have received.’‘You sent me, madam,’ answered Sylvia, ‘to the Court of Iris, on whom you had bestowed the gift of beauty. She never tells anyone, however, that it was your gift, though she often speaks of your kindness in general. It seemed to me that her loveliness, which fairly dazzled me at first, had absolutely deprived her of the use of any of her other gifts or graces.In allowing herself to be seen, she appeared to think that she was doing all that could possibly be required of her. But, unfortunately, while I was still with her she became seriously ill, and though she presently recovered, her beauty is entirely gone, so that she hates the very sight of herself, and is in despair. She entreated me to tell you what had happened, and to beg you, in pity, to give her beauty back to her. And, indeed, she does need it terribly, for all the things in her that were tolerable, and even agreeable, when she was so pretty, seem quite different now she is ugly, and it is so long since she thought of using her mind or her natural cleverness, that I really don’t think she has any left now. She is quite aware of all this herself, so you may imagine how unhappy she is, and how earnestly she begs for your aid.’‘You have told me what I wanted to know,’ cried the Fairy, ‘but alas! I cannot help her; my gifts can be given but once.’Some time passed in all the usual delights of the Flower-Fairy’s palace, and then she sent for Sylvia again, and told her she was to stay for a little while with the Princess Daphne, and accordingly the butterflies whisked her off, and set her down in quite a strange kingdom. But she had only been there a very little time before a wandering butterfly brought a message from her to the Fairy, begging that she might be sent for as soon as possible, and before very long she was allowed to return.‘Ah! madam,’ cried she, ‘what a place you sent me to that time!’‘Why, what was the matter?’ asked the Fairy. ‘Daphne was one of the princesses who asked for the gift of eloquence, if I remember rightly.’‘And very ill the gift of eloquence becomes a woman,’ replied Sylvia, with an air of conviction. ‘It is true that she speaks well, and her expressions are well chosen; but then she never leaves off talking, and though at first one may be amused, one ends by being wearied to death. Above all things she loves any assembly for settling the affairs of her kingdom, for on those occasions she can talk and talk without fear of interruption; but, even then, the moment it is over she is ready to begin again about anything or nothing, as the case may be. Oh! how glad I was to come away I cannot tell you.’The Fairy smiled at Sylvia’s unfeigned disgust at her late experience; but after allowing her a little time to recover she sent her to the Court of the Princess Cynthia, where she left her for three months. At the end of that time Sylvia came back to her with all the joy and contentment that one feels at being once more beside a dear friend. The Fairy, as usual, was anxious to hear what she thought of Cynthia, who had always been amiable, and to whom she had given the gift of pleasing.‘I thought at first,’ said Sylvia, ‘that she must be the happiest Princess in the world; she had a thousand lovers who vied with one another in their efforts to please and gratify her. Indeed, I had nearly decided that I would ask a similar gift.’‘Have you altered your mind, then?’ interrupted the Fairy.‘Yes, indeed, madam,’ replied Sylvia; ‘and I will tell you why. The longer I stayed the more I saw that Cynthia was not really happy. In her desire to please everyone she ceased to be sincere, and degenerated into a mere coquette; and even her lovers felt that the charms and fascinations which were exercised upon all who approached her without distinction were valueless, so that in the end they ceased to care for them, and went away disdainfully.’‘I am pleased with you, child,’ said the Fairy; ‘enjoy yourself here for awhile and presently you shall go to Phyllida.’Sylvia was glad to have leisure to think, for she could not make up her mind at all what she should ask for herself, and the time was drawing very near. However, before very long the Fairy sent her to Phyllida, and waited for her report with unabated interest.‘I reached her court safely,’ said Sylvia, ‘and she received me with much kindness, and immediately began to exercise upon me that brilliant wit which you had bestowed upon her. I confess that I was fascinated by it, and for a week thought that nothing could be more desirable; the time passed like magic, so great was the charm of her society. But I ended by ceasing to covet that gift more than any of the others I have seen, for, like the gift of pleasing, it cannot really give satisfaction. By degrees I wearied of what had so delighted me at first, especially as I perceived more and more plainly that it is impossible to be constantly smart and amusing without being frequently ill-natured, and too apt to turn all things, even the most serious, into mere occasions for a brilliant jest.’The Fairy in her heart agreed with Sylvia’s conclusions, and felt pleased with herself for having brought her up so well.But now the time was come for Sylvia to receive her gift, and all her companions were assembled; the Fairy stood in the midst and in the usual manner asked what she would take with her into the great world.Sylvia paused for a moment, and then answered: ‘A quiet spirit.’ And the Fairy granted her request.This lovely gift makes life a constant happiness to its possessor, and to all who are brought into contact with her. She has all the beauty of gentleness and contentment in her sweet face; and if at times it seems less lovely through some chance grief or disquietude, the hardest thing that one ever hears said is:‘Sylvia’s dear face is pale to-day. It grieves one to see her so.’And when, on the contrary, she is gay and joyful, the sunshine of her presence rejoices all who have the happiness of being near her.
High up yonder, in the thin clear air, flew an angel with a flower from the heavenly garden. As he was kissing the flower, a very little leaf fell down into the soft soil in the midst of the wood, and immediately took root, and sprouted, and sent forth shoots among the other plants.“A funny kind of slip that,” said the plants.And neither thistle nor stinging-nettle would recognize the stranger.“That must be a kind of garden plant,” said they.And they sneered; and the plant was despised by them as being a thing out of the garden.“Where are you coming?” cried the lofty thistles, whose leaves are all armed with thorns.“You give yourself a good deal of space. That’s all nonsense—we are not here to support you!” they grumbled.And winter came, and snow covered the plant; but the plant imparted to the snowy covering a lustre as if the sun was shining upon it from below as from above. When spring came, the plant appeared as a blooming object, more beautiful than any production of the forest.And now appeared on the scene the botanical professor, who could show what he was in black and white. He inspected the plant and tested it, but found it was not included in his botanical system; and he could not possibly find out to what class it belonged.“That must be some subordinate species,” he said. “I don’t know it. It’s not included in any system.”“Not included in any system!” repeated the thistles and the nettles.The great trees that stood round about saw and heard it; but they said not a word, good or bad, which is the wisest thing to do for people who are stupid.There came through the forest a poor innocent girl. Her heart was pure, and her understanding was enlarged by faith. Her whole inheritance was an old Bible; but out of its pages a voice said to her, “If people wish to do us evil, remember how it was said of Joseph. They imagined evil in their hearts, but God turned it to good. If we suffer wrong—if we are misunderstood and despised—then we may recall the words of Him who was purity and goodness itself, and who forgave and prayed for those who buffeted Him and nailed Him to the cross.” The girl stood still in front of the wonderful plant, whose great leaves exhaled a sweet and refreshing fragrance, and whose flowers glittered like a coloured flame in the sun; and from each flower there came a sound as though it concealed within itself a deep fount of melody that thousands of years could not exhaust. With pious gratitude the girl looked on this beautiful work of the Creator, and bent down one of the branches towards herself to breathe in its sweetness; and a light arose in her soul. It seemed to do her heart good; and gladly would she have plucked a flower, but she could not make up her mind to break one off, for it would soon fade if she did so. Therefore the girl only took a single leaf, and laid it in her Bible at home; and it lay there quite fresh, always green, and never fading.Among the pages of the Bible it was kept; and, with the Bible, it was laid under the young girl’s head when, a few weeks afterwards, she lay in her coffin, with the solemn calm of death on her gentle face, as if the earthly remains bore the impress of the truth that she now stood before her Creator.But the wonderful plant still bloomed without in the forest. It was almost like a tree to look upon; and all the birds of passage bowed before it.“That’s giving itself foreign airs now,” said the thistles and the burdocks; “we never behave like that here.”And the black snails actually spat at the flower.Then came the swineherd. He was collecting thistles and shrubs, to burn them for the ashes. The wonderful plant was placed bodily in his bundle.“It shall be made useful,” he said; and so said, so done.But soon afterwards, the king of the country was troubled with a terrible depression of spirits. He was busy and industrious, but that did him no good. They read him deep and learned books, and then they read from the lightest and most superficial that they could find;but it was of no use. Then one of the wise men of the world, to whom they had applied, sent a messenger to tell the king that there was one remedy to give him relief and to cure him. He said:“In the king’s own country there grows in a forest a plant of heavenly origin. Its appearance is thus and thus. It cannot be mistaken.”“I fancy it was taken up in my bundle, and burnt to ashes long ago,” said the swineherd; “but I did not know any better.”“You didn’t know any better! Ignorance of ignorances!”And those words the swineherd might well take to himself, for they were meant for him, and for no one else.Not another leaf was to be found; the only one lay in the coffin of the dead girl, and no one knew anything about that.And the king himself, in his melancholy, wandered out to the spot in the wood.“Here is where the plant stood,” he said; “it is a sacred place.”And the place was surrounded with a golden railing, and a sentry was posted there.The botanical professor wrote a long treatise upon the heavenly plant. For this he was gilded all over, and this gilding suited him and his family very well. And indeed that was the most agreeable part of the whole story. But the king remained as low-spirited as before; but that he had always been, at least so the sentry said.
The rain had passed; the moon looked down from a clear sky, and the bushes and dead grass smelled wet, after the heavy storm. A cottontail ran into a clump of wild-rose bushes near War Eagle’s lodge, and some dogs were close behind the frightened animal, as he gained cover. Little Buffalo Calf threw a stone into the bushes, scaring the rabbit from his hiding-place, and away went bunny, followed by the yelping pack. We stood and listened until the noise of the chase died away, and then went into the lodge, where we were greeted, as usual, by War Eagle. To-night he smoked; but with greater ceremony, and I suspected that it had something to do with the forthcoming story. Finally he said:“You have seen many Snakes, I suppose?”“Yes,” replied the children, “we have seen a great many. In the summer we see them every day.”“Well,” continued the story-teller, “once there was only one Snake on the whole world, and he was a big one, I tell you. He was pretty to look at, and was painted with all the colors we know. This snake was proud of his clothes and had a wicked heart. Most Snakes are wicked, because they are his relations.“Now, I have not told you all about it yet, nor will I tell you to-night, but the Moon is the Sun’s wife, and some day I shall tell you that story, but to-night I am telling you about the Snakes.“You know that the Sun goes early to bed, and that the Moon most always leaves before he gets to the lodge. Sometimes this is not so, but that is part of another story.“This big Snake used to crawl up a high hill and watch the Moon in the sky. He was in love with her, and she knew it; but she paid no attention to him. She liked his looks, for his clothes were fine, and he was always slick and smooth. This went on for a long time, but she never talked to him at all. The Snake thought maybe the hill wasn’t high enough, so he found a higher one, and watched the Moon pass, from the top. Every night he climbed this high hill and motioned to her. She began to pay more attention to the big Snake, and one morning early, she loafed at her work a little, and spoke to him. He was flattered, and so was she, because he said many nice things to her, but she went on to the Sun’s lodge, and left the Snake.“The next morning very early she saw the Snake again, and this time she stopped a long time — so long that the Sun had started out from the lodge before she reached home. He wondered what kept her so long, and became suspicious of the Snake. He made up his mind to watch, and try to catch them together. So every morning the Sun left the lodge a little earlier than before; and one morning, just as he climbed a mountain, he saw the big Snake talking to the Moon. That made him angry, and you can’t blame him, because his wife was spending her time loafing with a Snake.“She ran away; ran to the Sun’s lodge and left the Snake on the hill. In no time the Sun had grabbed him. My, the Sun was angry! The big Snake begged, and promised never to speak to the Moon again, but the Sun had him; and he smashed him into thousands of little pieces, all of different colors from the different parts of his painted body. The little pieces each turned into a little snake, just as you see them now, but they were all too small for the Moon to notice after that. That is how so many Snakes came into the world; and that is why they are all small, nowadays.“Our people do not like the Snake-people very well, but we know that they were made to do something on this world, and that they do it, or they wouldn’t live here.“That was a short story, but to-morrow night I will tell you why the Deer-people have no gall on their livers; and why the Antelope-people do not wear dew-claws, for you should know that there are no other animals with cloven hoofs that are like them in this.“I am tired to-night, and I will ask that you go to your lodges, that I may sleep, for I am getting old. Ho!”
A country rat, of little brains,Grown weary of inglorious rest,Left home with all its straws and grains,Resolved to know beyond his nest.When peeping through the nearest fence,“How big the world is, how immense!”He cried; “there rise the Alps, and thatIs doubtless famous Ararat.”His mountains were the works of moles,Or dirt thrown up in digging holes!Some days of travel brought him whereThe tide had left the oysters bare.Since here our traveler saw the sea,He thought these shells the ships must be.“My father was, in truth,” said he,“A coward, and an ignoramus;He dared not travel: as for me,I’ve seen the ships and ocean famous;Have cross’d the deserts without drinking,And many dangerous streams unshrinking.”Among the shut-up shell-fish, oneWas gaping widely at the sun;It breathed, and drank the air’s perfume,Expanding, like a flower in bloom.Both white and fat, its meatAppear’d a dainty treat.Our rat, when he this shell espied,Thought for his stomach to provide.“If not mistaken in the matter,”Said he, “no meat was ever fatter,Or in its flavour half so fine,As that on which to-day I dine.”Thus full of hope, the foolish chapThrust in his head to taste,And felt the pinching of a trap—The oyster closed in haste.Now those to whom the world is newAre wonder-struck at every view;And the marauder finds his match,When he is caught who thinks to catch.
There was once upon a time a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the other. They all slept together in one chamber, in which their beds stood side by side, and every night when they were in them the King locked the door, and bolted it. But in the morning when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out with dancing, and no one could find out how that had come to pass. Then the King caused it to be proclaimed that whosoever could discover where they danced at night, should choose one of them for his wife and be King after his death, but that whosoever came forward and had not discovered it within three days and nights, should have forfeited his life. It was not long before a King’s son presented himself, and offered to undertake the enterprise. He was well received, and in the evening was led into a room adjoining the princesses’ sleeping-chamber. His bed was placed there, and he was to observe where they went and danced, and in order that they might do nothing secretly or go away to some other place, the door of their room was left open.But the eyelids of the prince grew heavy as lead, and he fell asleep, and when he awoke in the morning, all twelve had been to the dance, for their shoes were standing there with holes in the soles. On the second and third nights it fell out just the same, and then his head was struck off without mercy. Many others came after this and undertook the enterprise, but all forfeited their lives. Now it came to pass that a poor soldier, who had a wound, and could serve no longer, found himself on the road to the town where the King lived. There he met an old woman, who asked him where he was going. “I hardly know myself,” answered he, and added in jest, “I had half a mind to discover where the princesses danced their shoes into holes, and thus become King.” “That is not so difficult,” said the old woman, “you must not drink the wine which will be brought to you at night, and must pretend to be sound asleep.” With that she gave him a little cloak, and said, “If you put on that, you will be invisible, and then you can steal after the twelve.” When the soldier had received this good advice, he went into the thing in earnest, took heart, went to the King, and announced himself as a suitor. He was as well received as the others, and royal garments were put upon him. He was conducted that evening at bed-time into the ante-chamber, and as he was about to go to bed, the eldest came and brought him a cup of wine, but he had tied a sponge under his chin, and let the wine run down into it, without drinking a drop. Then he lay down and when he had lain a while, he began to snore, as if in the deepest sleep. The twelve princesses heard that, and laughed, and the eldest said, “He, too, might as well have saved his life.” With that they got up, opened wardrobes, presses, cupboards, and brought out pretty dresses; dressed themselves before the mirrors, sprang about, and rejoiced at the prospect of the dance. Only the youngest said, “I know not how it is; you are very happy, but I feel very strange; some misfortune is certainly about to befall us.” “Thou art a goose, who art always frightened,” said the eldest. “Hast thou forgotten how many Kings’ sons have already come here in vain? I had hardly any need to give the soldier a sleeping-draught, in any case the clown would not have awakened.” When they were all ready they looked carefully at the soldier, but he had closed his eyes and did not move or stir, so they felt themselves quite secure. The eldest then went to her bed and tapped it; it immediately sank into the earth, and one after the other they descended through the opening, the eldest going first. The soldier, who had watched everything, tarried no longer, put on his little cloak, and went down last with the youngest. Half-way down the steps, he just trod a little on her dress; she was terrified at that, and cried out, “What is that? who is pulling at my dress?” “Don’t be so silly!” said the eldest, “you have caught it on a nail.” Then they went all the way down, and when they were at the bottom, they were standing in a wonderfully pretty avenue of trees, all the leaves of which were of silver, and shone and glistened. The soldier thought, “I must carry a token away with me,” and broke off a twig from one of them, on which the tree cracked with a loud report. The youngest cried out again. “Something is wrong, did you hear the crack?” But the eldest said, “It is a gun fired for joy, because we have got rid of our prince so quickly.” After that they came into an avenue where all the leaves were of gold, and lastly into a third where they were of bright diamonds; he broke off a twig from each, which made such a crack each time that the youngest started back in terror, but the eldest still maintained that they were salutes. They went on and came to a great lake whereon stood twelve little boats, and in every boat sat a handsome prince, all of whom were waiting for the twelve, and each took one of them with him, but the soldier seated himself by the youngest. Then her prince said, “I can’t tell why the boat is so much heavier to-day; I shall have to row with all my strength, if I am to get it across.” “What should cause that,” said the youngest, “but the warm weather? I feel very warm too.” On the opposite side of the lake stood a splendid, brightly-lit castle, from whence resounded the joyous music of trumpets and kettle-drums. They rowed over there, entered, and each prince danced with the girl he loved, but the soldier danced with them unseen, and when one of them had a cup of wine in her hand he drank it up, so that the cup was empty when she carried it to her mouth; the youngest was alarmed at this, but the eldest always made her be silent. They danced there till three o’clock in the morning when all the shoes were danced into holes, and they were forced to leave off; the princes rowed them back again over the lake, and this time the soldier seated himself by the eldest. On the shore they took leave of their princes, and promised to return the following night. When they reached the stairs the soldier ran on in front and lay down in his bed, and when the twelve had come up slowly and wearily, he was already snoring so loudly that they could all hear him, and they said, “So far as he is concerned, we are safe.” They took off their beautiful dresses, laid them away, put the worn-out shoes under the bed, and lay down. Next morning the soldier was resolved not to speak, but to watch the wonderful goings on, and again went with them. Then everything was done just as it had been done the first time, and each time they danced until their shoes were worn to pieces. But the third time he took a cup away with him as a token. When the hour had arrived for him to give his answer, he took the three twigs and the cup, and went to the King, but the twelve stood behind the door, and listened for what he was going to say. When the King put the question, “Where have my twelve daughters danced their shoes to pieces in the night?” he answered, “In an underground castle with twelve princes,” and related how it had come to pass, and brought out the tokens. The King then summoned his daughters, and asked them if the soldier had told the truth, and when they saw that they were betrayed, and that falsehood would be of no avail, they were obliged to confess all. Thereupon the King asked which of them he would have to wife? He answered, “I am no longer young, so give me the eldest.” Then the wedding was celebrated on the self-same day, and the kingdom was promised him after the King’s death. But the princes were bewitched for as many days as they had danced nights with the twelve.
In a tiny house in the North Countrie, far away from any town or village, there lived not long ago, a poor widow all alone with her little son, a six-year-old boy.The house-door opened straight on to the hill-side and all round about were moorlands and huge stones, and swampy hollows; never a house nor a sign of life wherever you might look, for their nearest neighbours were the “ferlies” in the glen below, and the “will-o’-the-wisps” in the long grass along the pathside.And many a tale she could tell of the “good folk” calling to each other in the oak-trees, and the twinkling lights hopping on to the very window sill, on dark nights; but in spite of the loneliness, she lived on from year to year in the little house, perhaps because she was never asked to pay any rent for it.But she did not care to sit up late, when the fire burnt low, and no one knew what might be about; so, when they had had their supper she would make up a good fire and go off to bed, so that if anything terrible did happen, she could always hide her head under the bed-clothes.This, however, was far too early to please her little son; so when she called him to bed, he would go on playing beside the fire, as if he did not hear her.He had always been bad to do with since the day he was born, and his mother did not often care to cross him; indeed, the more she tried to make him obey her, the less heed he paid to anything she said, so it usually ended by his taking his own way.But one night, just at the fore-end of winter, the widow could not make up her mind to go off to bed, and leave him playing by the fireside; for the wind was tugging at the door, and rattling the window-panes, and well she knew that on such a night, fairies and such like were bound to be out and about, and bent on mischief. So she tried to coax the boy into going at once to bed:“The safest bed to bide in, such a night as this!” she said: but no, he wouldn’t.Then she threatened to “give him the stick,” but it was no use.The more she begged and scolded, the more he shook his head; and when at last she lost patience and cried that the fairies would surely come and fetch him away, he only laughed and said he wished they would, for he would like one to play with.At that his mother burst into tears, and went off to bed in despair, certain that after such words something dreadful would happen; while her naughty little son sat on his stool by the fire, not at all put out by her crying.But he had not long been sitting there alone, when he heard a fluttering sound near him in the chimney and presently down by his side dropped the tiniest wee girl you could think of; she was not a span high, and had hair like spun silver, eyes as green as grass, and cheeks red as June roses. The little boy looked at her with surprise.“Oh!” said he; “what do they call ye?”“My own self,” she said in a shrill but sweet little voice, and she looked at him too. “And what do they call ye?”“Just my own self too!” he answered cautiously; and with that they began to play together.She certainly showed him some fine games. She made animals out of the ashes that looked and moved like life; and trees with green leaves waving over tiny houses, with men and women an inch high in them, who, when she breathed on them, fell to walking and talking quite properly.But the fire was getting low, and the light dim, and presently the little boy stirred the coals with a stick to make them blaze; when out jumped a red-hot cinder, and where should it fall, but on the fairy child’s tiny foot.Thereupon she set up such a squeal, that the boy dropped the stick, and clapped his hands to his ears but it grew to so shrill a screech, that it was like all the wind in the world whistling through one tiny keyhole.There was a sound in the chimney again, but this time the little boy did not wait to see what it was, but bolted off to bed, where he hid under the blankets and listened in fear and trembling to what went on.A voice came from the chimney speaking sharply:“Who’s there, and what’s wrong?” it said.“It’s my own self,” sobbed the fairy-child; “and my foot’s burnt sore. O-o-h!”“Who did it?” said the voice angrily; this time it sounded nearer, and the boy, peeping from under the clothes, could see a white face looking out from the chimney-opening.“Just my own self too!” said the fairy-child again.“Then if ye did it your own self,” cried the elf-mother shrilly, “what’s the use o’ making all this fash about it?”—and with that she stretched out a long thin arm, and caught the creature by its ear, and, shaking it roughly, pulled it after her, out of sight up the chimney.The little boy lay awake a long time, listening, in case the fairy-mother should come back after all; and next evening after supper, his mother was surprised to find that he was willing to go to bed whenever she liked.“He’s taking a turn for the better at last!” she said to herself; but he was thinking just then that, when next a fairy came to play with him, he might not get off quite so easily as he had done this time.
There was an old bamboo cutter called Také Tori. He was an honest old man, very poor and hard-working, and he lived with his good old wife in a cottage on the hills. Children they had none, and little comfort in their old age, poor souls.Také Tori rose early upon a summer morning, and went forth to cut bamboos as was his wont, for he sold them for a fair price in the town, and thus he gained his humble living.Up the steep hillside he went, and came to the bamboo grove quite wearied out. He took his blue tenegui and wiped his forehead, “Alack for my old bones!” he said. “I am not so young as I once was, nor the good wife either, and there’s no chick nor child to help us in our old age, more’s the pity.” He sighed as he got to work, poor Také Tori.Soon he saw a bright light shining among the green stems of the bamboos.“What is this?” said Také Tori, for as a rule it was dim and shady enough in the bamboo grove. “Is it the sun?” said Také Tori. “No, that cannot well be, for it comes from the ground.” Very soon he pushed his way through the bamboo stems to see what the bright light came from. Sure enough it came from the root of a great big green bamboo. Také Tori took his axe and cut down the great big green bamboo, and there was a fine shining green jewel, the size of his two fists.“Wonder of wonders!” cried Také Tori. “Wonder of wonders! For five-and-thirty years I’ve cut bamboo. This is the very first time I’ve found a great big green jewel at the root of one of them.” With that he takes up the jewel in his hands, and as soon as he does that, it bursts in two with a loud noise, if you’ll believe it, and out of it came a young person and stood on Také Tori’s hand.You must understand the young person was small but very beautiful. She was dressed all in green silk.“Greetings to you, Také Tori,” she says, as easy as you please.“Mercy me!” says Také Tori. “Thank you kindly. I suppose, now, you’ll be a fairy,” he says, “if I’m not making too bold in asking?”“You’re right,” she says, “it’s a fairy I am, and I’m come to live with you and your good wife for a little.”“Well, now,” says Také Tori, “begging your pardon, we’re very poor. Our cottage is good enough, but I’m afraid there’d be no comforts for a lady like you.”“Where’s the big green jewel?” says the fairy.Take Tori picks up the two halves. “Why, it’s full of gold pieces,” he says.“That will do to go on with,” says the fairy; “and now, Také Tori, let us make for home.”Home they went. “Wife! wife!” cried Také Tori, “here’s a fairy come to live with us, and she has brought us a shining jewel as big as a persimmon, full of gold pieces.”The good wife came running to the door. She could hardly believe her eyes.“What is this,” she said, “about a persimmon and gold pieces? Persimmons I have seen often enough—moreover, it is the season—but gold pieces are hard to come by.”“Let be, woman,” said Také Tori, “you are dull.” And he brought the fairy into the house.Wondrous fast the fairy grew. Before many days were gone she was a fine tall maiden, as fresh and as fair as the morning, as bright as the noonday, as sweet and still as the evening, and as deep as the night. Také Tori called her the Lady Beaming Bright, because she had come out of the shining jewel.Take Tori had the gold pieces out of the jewel every day. He grew rich, and spent his money like a man, but there was always plenty and to spare. He built him a fine house, he had servants to wait on him. The Lady Beaming Bright was lodged like an empress. Her beauty was famed both near and far, and scores of lovers came to seek her hand.But she would have none of them. “Také Tori and the dear good wife are my true lovers,” she said; “I will live with them and be their daughter.”So three happy years went by; and in the third year the Mikado himself came to woo the Lady Beaming Bright. He was the brave lover, indeed.“Lady,” he said, “I bow before you, my soul salutes you. Sweet lady, be my Queen.”Then the Lady Beaming Bright sighed and great tears stood in her eyes, and she hid her face with her sleeve.“Lord, I cannot,” she said.“Cannot?” said the Mikado; “and why not, O dear Lady Beaming Bright?”“Wait and see, lord,” she said.Now about the seventh month she grew very sorrowful, and would go abroad no more, but was for long upon the garden gallery of Také Tori’s house. There she sat in the daytime and brooded. There she sat at night and gazed upon the moon and the stars. There she was one fine night when the moon was at its full. Her maidens were with her, and Také Tori and the good wife, and the Mikado, her brave lover.“How bright the moon shines!” said Také Tori.“Truly,” said the good wife, “it is like a brass saucepan well scoured.”“See how pale and wan it is,” said the Mikado; “it is like a sad despairing lover.”“How long and bright a beam!” quoth Také Tori. “It is like a highway from the moon reaching to this garden gallery.”“O dear foster-father,” cried the Lady Beaming Bright. “You speak truth, it is a highway indeed. And along the highway come countless heavenly beings swiftly, swiftly, to bear me home. My father is the King of the Moon. I disobeyed his behest. He sent me to earth three years to dwell in exile. The three years are past and I go to mine own country. Ah, I am sad at parting.”“The mist descends,” said Také Tori.“Nay,” said the Mikado, “it is the cohorts of the King of the Moon.”Down they came in their hundreds and their thousands, bearing torches. Silently they came, and lighted round about the garden gallery. The chief among them brought a heavenly feather robe. Up rose the Lady Beaming Bright and put the robe upon her.“Farewell, Také Tori,” she said, “farewell, dear foster-mother, I leave you my jewel for a remembrance…. As for you, my lord, I would you might come with me—but there is no feather robe for you. I leave you a phial of the pure elixir of life. Drink, my lord, and be even as the Immortals.”Then she spread her bright wings and the cohorts of Heaven closed about her. Together they passed up the highway to the moon, and were no more seen.The Mikado took the elixir of life in his hand, and he went to the top of the highest mountain in that country. And he made a great fire to consume the elixir of life, for he said, “Of what profit shall it be to me to live for ever, being parted from the Lady Beaming Bright?”So the elixir of life was consumed, and its blue vapour floated up to Heaven. And the Mikado said, “Let my message float up with the vapour and reach the ears of my Lady Beaming Bright.”
Once there were three daughters in a family. The oldest one married a physician, the second one married a magistrate; but the third, who was more than usually intelligent and a clever talker, married a farmer.Now it chanced, once upon a time, that their parents were celebrating a birthday. So the three daughters came, together with their husbands, to wish them long life and happiness. The parents-in-law prepared a meal for their three sons-in-law, and put the birthday wine on the table. But the oldest son-in-law, who knew that the third one had not attended school, wanted to embarrass him.“It is far too tiresome,” said he, “just to sit here drinking: let us have a drinking game. Each one of us must invent a verse, one that rimes and makes sense, on the words: ‘in the sky, on the earth, at the table, in the room,’ And whoever cannot do so, must empty three glasses as a punishment.”All the company were satisfied. Only the third son-in-law felt embarrassed and insisted on leaving. But the guests would not let him go, and obliged him to keep his seat.Then the oldest son-in-law began: “I will make a start with my verse. Here it is:“In the sky the phenix proudly flies, On the earth the lambkin tamely lies, At the table through an ancient book I wade, In the room I softly call the maid.”The second one continued: “And I say:“In the sky the turtle-dove flies round, On the earth the ox paws up the ground, At the table one studies the deeds of yore, In the room the maid she sweeps the floor.”But the third son-in-law stuttered, and found nothing to say. And when all of them insisted, he broke out in rough tones of voice:“In the sky—flies a leaden bullet, On the earth—stalks a tiger-beast, On the table—lies a pair of scissors, In the room—I call the stable-boy.”The other two sons-in-law clapped their hands and began to laugh loudly.“Why the four lines do not rime at all,” said they, “and, besides they do not make sense. A leaden bullet is no bird, the stable-boy does his work outside, would you call him into the room? Nonsense, nonsense! Drink!”Yet before they had finished speaking, the third daughter raised the curtain of the women’s room, and stepped out. She was angry, yet she could not suppress a smile.“How so do our lines not make sense?” said she. “Listen a moment, and I’ll explain them to you: In the sky our leaden bullet will shoot your phenix and your turtle-dove. On the earth our tiger-beast will devour your sheep and your ox. On the table our pair of scissors will cut up all your old books. And finally, in the room—well, the stable-boy can marry your maid!”Then the oldest son-in-law said: “Well scolded! Sister-in-law, you know how to talk! If you were a man you would have had your degree long ago. And, as a punishment, we will empty our three glasses.”Note: This is also a fairy-tale traditionally handed down.
There was once an aëronaut with whom things went badly; the balloon burst, tumbled the man out, and broke into bits. His boy he had two minutes before sent down with a parachute,—that was the boy’s luck; he was unhurt and went about with knowledge enough to make him an aëronaut too, but he had no balloon and no means of acquiring one.But live he must, and so he applied himself to the art of legerdemain and to talking in his stomach; in fact he became a ventriloquist, as they say. He was young, good-looking, and when he got a moustache and had his best clothes on, he could be taken for a nobleman’s son. The ladies seemed to think well of him; one young lady even was so taken with his charms and his great dexterity that she went off with him to foreign parts. There he called himself Professor—he could scarcely do less.His constant thought was how to get himself a balloon and go up into the air with his little wife, but as yet they had no means.“They’ll come yet,” said he.“If only they would,” said she.“We are young folks,” said he, “and now I am Professor.” She helped him faithfully, sat at the door and sold tickets to the exhibition, and it was a chilly sort of pleasure in winter time. She also helped him in the line of his art. He put his wife in a table-drawer, a large table-drawer; then she crawled into the back part of the drawer, and so was not in the front part,—quite an optical illusion to the audience. But one evening when he drew the drawer out, she was also out of sight to him: she was not in the front drawer, not in the back one either, not in the house itself—nowhere to be seen or heard— that was her feat of legerdemain, her entertainment. She never came back again; she was tired of it all, and he grew tired of it, lost his good-humor, could not laugh or make jokes;—and so the people stopped coming, his earnings became scanty, his clothes gave out; and finally he only owned a great flea, which his wife had left him, and so he thought highly of it. And he dressed the flea and taught it to perform, to present arms and to fire a cannon off,—but it was a little cannon.The Professor was proud of the flea, and the flea was proud of himself; he had learned something, and had human blood, and had been besides to the largest cities, had been seen by princes and princesses, had received their high praise, and it was printed in the newspapers and on placards. Plainly it was a very famous flea and could support a Professor and his entire family.The flea was proud and famous, and yet when he and the Professor traveled they took fourth-class carriages on the railway; they went just as quickly as the first class. They were betrothed to each other; it was a private engagement that would never come out; they never would marry, the flea would remain a bachelor and the Professor a widower. That made it balance.“Where one has the best luck,” said the Professor, “there one ought to go twice.” He was a good judge of character, and that is also a science of itself. At last he had traveled over all countries except the wild ones, and so he wanted to go there. They eat Christian men there, to be sure, the Professor knew, but then he was not properly Christian and the flea was not properly a man, so he thought they might venture to travel there and have good success.They traveled by steamship and by sailing vessel ; the flea performed his tricks, and so they got a free passage on the way and arrived at the wild country. Here reigned a little Princess. She was only eight years old, but she was ruling. She had taken away the power from her father and mother, for she had a will, and then she was extraordinarily beautiful and rude.Just as soon as the flea had presented arms and fired off the cannon, she was so enraptured with him that she said, “Him or nobody!” She became quite wild with love and was already wild in other ways.“Sweet, little, sensible child!” said her own father. “If one could only first make a man of him!”“Leave that to me, old man,” said she, and that was not well said by a little Princess when talking with her father, but she was wild. She set the flea on her white hand.“Now you are a man, reigning with me, but you shall do what I want you to, or else I’ll kill you and eat the Professor.” The Professor had a great hall to live in. The walls were made of sugar-cane, and he could lick them, but he was not a sweet-tooth. He had a hammock to sleep in. It was as if he were lying in a balloon, such as he had always wished for himself—that was his constant thought.The flea lived with the Princess, sat upon her delicate hand and upon her white neck. She had taken a hair from her head and made the Professor tie it to the flea’s leg, and so she kept him tied to the great red coral drop which she wore in her ear. What a delightful time the Princess had, and the flea too, she thought, but the Professor was not very comfortable. He was a traveler; he liked to drive from town to town, and read about his perseverance and cleverness in teaching a flea to do what men do. But he got out of and into his hammock, lounged about and had good feeding, fresh bird’s-eggs, elephant’s eyes and roast giraffe. People that eat men do not live entirely on cooked men—no, that is a great delicacy.“Shoulder of children with sharp sauce,” said the Princess’s mother, “is the most delicate.”The Professor was tired of it all and would rather go away from the wild land, but he must have his flea with him, for that was his prodigy, and his bread and butter. How was he to get hold of him? That was no easy matter. He strained all his wits, and then he said, “Now I have it.”“Princess’s Father! grant me a favor. May I summon your subjects to present themselves before your Royal Highness? That is what is called a Ceremony in the high and mighty countries of the world.“Can I, too, learn to do that?” asked the Princess’s father.“That is not quite proper,” replied the Professor; “but I shall teach your wild Fathership to fire a cannon off. It goes off with a bang. One sits high up aloft, and then off it goes or down he comes.”“Let me crack it off!” said the Princess’s father. But in all the land there was no cannon except the one the flea had brought, and that was so very small.“I will cast a bigger one!” said the Professor. “Only give me the means. I must have fine silk stuff, needle and thread, rope and cord, together with cordial drops for the balloon, they blow one up so easily and give one the heaves; they are what make the report in the cannons s inside.”“By all means,” said the Princess’s father, and gave him what he called for.All the court and the entire population came together to see the great cannon cast. The Professor did not summon them before he had the balloon entirely ready to be filled and go up: The flea sat on the Princess’s hand and looked on. The balloon was filled, it bulged out and could scarcely be held down, so violent did it become.“I must have it up in the air before it can be cooled off,” said the Professor, and took his seat in the car which hung below. “But I cannot manage and steer it alone. I must have a skillful companion along to help me. There is no one here that can do that except the flea.”“I am not very willing to let him,” said the Princess, but still she reached out and handed the flea to the Professor, who placed him on his hand.“Let go the cords and ropes,” he shouted. “Now the balloon’s going.” They thought he said “the cannon,” and so the balloon went higher and higher, up above the clouds, far away from the wild land.The little Princess, all the family and the people sat and waited—they are waiting still; and if you do not believe it, just take a journey to the wild land; every child there talks about the Professor and the flea, and believes that they are coming back when the cannon is cooled off; but they will not come, they are at home with us, they are in their native country, they travel on the railway, first class, not fourth; they have good success, a great balloon. Nobody asks how they got their balloon or where it came from: they are rich folks now, quite respectable folks, indeed—the flea and the Professor!
One cold winter’s day a peasant set out on a journey which led him through the depths of a forest into which he had not hitherto been. The result was that he lost his way, and after wandering about for many hours in the hope of finding it again, he found himself, just as dusk was coming on, in a little clearing where he was overjoyed to see a small house with a cheerful light in the window.“Here is a chance of supper and a bed,” thought the peasant, and he made haste to go up to the cottage door.“The satyrs village.” llustration by Jean De Bosschère, published in Folk-Tales of Flanders by Jean De Bosschère (1918), Dodd, Mead and Company.Now this house in the clearing was not inhabited by men, but by some strange forest folk who were called satyrs. If you want to know what they were like, you must look at the pictures. Certainly the peasant had never seen anything like them before, although he had often heard of them, and when he nearly tumbled over the little satyr children who were playing in the snow outside the house door, he was the most surprised man in all those parts. It was too late to draw back however, so he went boldly up to the door and gave a loud knock.“Come in!” cried a gruff voice, and the peasant accordingly went in and found himself facing the father of all the satyrs, who had a long beard and a pair of horns jutting from his forehead. The poor fellow’s knees trembled underneath him for fright, especially when he saw all the other satyrs, the mother and the uncles and the aunts, glowering at him.“Please forgive me for my intrusion,” said he, “but I have lost my way in the woods, and I am half dead with hunger and cold. It would be an act of great kindness if you would give me some food and allow me to take shelter for the night.” So saying, to give point to his remarks, he set to work to blow upon his chilled fingers, which indeed were blue with the cold.“Why are you blowing your fingers?” asked the father of all the satyrs curiously.“Why, to warm them,” answered the peasant, and he blew harder than before.“Well, sit down,” said the satyr. “As it happens we are just about to have supper, and you are welcome to share it with us.”So the peasant sat down to supper, and all the satyr family sat down too, and watched him with big unblinking eyes, so that he felt very uncomfortable. A big basin of soup was set before him, and finding it very hot, he began to blow upon it.At this all the satyr family cried out in surprise, and the father satyr said, ” Why are you blowing your soup?”“To cool it,” answered the peasant. “It is too hot, and I am afraid it may scald my mouth.”Another and a louder cry of surprise came from all the satyrs, but the father cried out loudest of all, and seemed very indignant. “Come,” he said, advancing to the peasant and taking him by the collar. “Out you go! There is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold with the same breath. That smells too much of sorcery or magic. Out you go, I say, and practise your spells in the forest.”So the poor peasant had to go supperless and spend the night in the woods, with no shelter but the trees, and the snow for coverlet.And, if you wish to know when all this happened, all I can tell you is that it was a very long time ago, in the days when fishes flew, and cats had wings.
Many, many thousand years ago there lived a mighty King whom heaven had blessed with a clever and beautiful son. When he was only ten years old the boy was cleverer than all the King’s counsellors put together, and when he was twenty he was the greatest hero in the whole kingdom. His father could not make enough of his son, and always had him clothed in golden garments which shone and sparkled like the sun; and his mother gave him a white horse, which never slept, and which flew like the wind. All the people in the land loved him dearly, and called him the Sun-Hero, for they did not think his like existed under the sun. Now it happened one night that both his parents had the same extraordinary dream. They dreamt that a girl all dressed in red had come to them and said: ‘If you wish that your son should really become the Sun-Hero in deed and not only in name, let him go out into the world and search for the Tree of the Sun, and when he has found it, let him pluck a golden apple from it and bring it home.’When the King and Queen had each related their dreams to the other, they were much amazed that they should both have dreamt exactly the same about their son, and the King said to his wife, ‘This is clearly a sign from heaven that we should send our son out into the world in order that he may come home the great Sun-Hero, as the Red Girl said, not only in name but in deed.’The Queen consented with many tears, and the King at once bade his son set forth in search of the Tree of the Sun, from which he was to pluck a golden apple. The Prince was delighted at the prospect, and set out on his travels that very day.For a long time he wandered all through the world, and it was not till the ninety-ninth day after he started that he found an old man who was able to tell him where the Tree of the Sun grew. He followed his directions, and rode on his way, and after another ninety-nine days he arrived at a golden castle, which stood in the middle of a vast wilderness. He knocked at the door, which was opened noiselessly and by invisible hands. Finding no one about, the Prince rode on, and came to a great meadow, where the Sun-Tree grew. When he reached the tree he put out his hand to pick a golden apple; but all of a sudden the tree grew higher, so that he could not reach its fruit. Then he heard some one behind him laughing. Turning round, he saw the girl in red walking towards him, who addressed him in these words:‘Do you really imagine, brave son of the earth, that you can pluck an apple so easily from the Tree of the Sun? Before you can do that, you have a difficult task before you. You must guard the tree for nine days and nine nights from the ravages of two wild black wolves, who will try to harm it. Do you think you can undertake this?’‘Yes,’ answered the Sun-Hero, ‘I will guard the Tree of the Sun nine days and nine nights.’Then the girl continued: ‘Remember, though, if you do not succeed the Sun will kill you. Now begin your watch.’With these words the Red Girl went back into the golden castle. She had hardly left him when the two black wolves appeared: but the Sun-Hero beat them off with his sword, and they retired, only, however, to reappear in a very short time. The Sun-Hero chased them away once more, but he had hardly sat down to rest when the two black wolves were on the scene again. This went on for seven days and nights, when the white horse, who had never done such a thing before, turned to the Sun-Hero and said in a human voice: ‘Listen to what I am going to say. A Fairy gave me to your mother in order that I might be of service to you; so let me tell you, that if you go to sleep and let the wolves harm the tree, the Sun will surely kill you. The Fairy, foreseeing this, put everyone in the world under a spell, which prevents their obeying the Sun’s command to take your life. But all the same, she has forgotten one person, who will certainly kill you if you fall asleep and let the wolves damage the tree. So watch and keep the wolves away.’Then the Sun-Hero strove with all his might and kept the black wolves at bay, and conquered his desire to sleep; but on the eighth night his strength failed him, and he fell fast asleep. When he awoke a woman in black stood beside him, who said: ‘You have fulfilled your task very badly, for you have let the two black wolves damage the Tree of the Sun. I am the mother of the Sun, and I command you to ride away from here at once, and I pronounce sentence of death upon you, for you proudly let yourself be called the Sun-Hero without having done anything to deserve the name.’The youth mounted his horse sadly, and rode home. The people all thronged round him on his return, anxious to hear his adventures, but he told them nothing, and only to his mother did he confide what had befallen him. But the old Queen laughed, and said to her son: ‘Don’t worry, my child; you see, the Fairy has protected you so far, and the Sun has found no one to kill you. So cheer up and be happy.’After a time the Prince forgot all about his adventure, and married a beautiful Princess, with whom he lived very happily for some time. But one day when he was out hunting he felt very thirsty, and coming to a stream he stooped down to drink from it, and this caused his death, for a crab came swimming up, and with its claws tore out his tongue. He was carried home in a dying condition, and as he lay on his death-bed the black woman appeared and said: ‘So the Sun has, after all, found someone, who was not under the Fairy’s spell, who has caused your death. And a similar fate will overtake everyone under the Sun who wrongfully assumes a title to which he has no right.’
It was Christmas Day, and Toddy and Tita were alone. Papa and mamma had gone out West to see their big boy who was ill. They had promised to be home for Christmas, but a big snow had blocked the railroad track, and nurse was afraid the train would be delayed until the day after Christmas. What a dull Christmas for two little girls, all alone in the great city house, with only the servants! They felt so lonely that nurse let them play in the big drawing-room instead of in the nursery, so they arranged all the chairs in a row, and pretended it was a snowed-up train. Tita was the conductor, and Toddy was the passengers. Just as they were in the midst of it, they heard music in the street, and, running to the window, they saw a little boy outside, singing and beating a tambourine.“Why,” said Tita, “his feet are all bare!”“Dess he hanged up bofe stockin’s an’ his shoes, too,” said Toddy.“Let’s open the window and ask him.”But the great window was too high to reach, so they took papa’s cane and pushed it tip. The little boy smiled, but they could not hear what he said, so they told him to come in, and ran to open the big front door. He was a little frightened at first, but the carpet felt warm to his poor bare feet.He told them that his name was Guido, and that he had come from Italy, which is a much warmer country than ours, and that he was very poor, so poor that he had no shoes, and had to go singing from house to house for a few pennies to get some dinner. And he was so hungry.“Poor little boy!” said Tita. “Our mamma is away, and we’re having a pretty sad Christmas, but we’ll try to make it nice for you.”So they played games, and Guido sang to them. Then the folding doors rolled back, and there was the dining-room and the table all set, and Thomas, the black waiter, smiling, just as if it had been a big dinner party instead of two very little girls. Nurse said: “Well, I never!” when she saw Guido, but she felt so sorry for the lonely little girls that she let him come to the table. And such a dinner as he ate! He had never had one like it before. “It is a fairy tale,” he said.Just as dessert came on, the door opened and in rushed mamma and papa; the train had gotten in, after all. They were so glad to see their darlings happy instead of moping that they gave them each some extra kisses. You may be sure little Guido never went hungry and barefoot after that. Long afterward he would say: “That was a fairy Christmas!”That night, after Tita had said her prayers, she said:“Mamma, I know something. Whenever you feel sad and lonely, if you will just find somebody sadder and lonelier than yourself and cheer them up, it will make you all right.”And I think that that was the very best kind of a Christmas lesson of love. Don’t you?
There once lived a rich gentleman in a mansion on the banks of the river Vistula. All the windows of this house were in the front overlooking the beautiful river. The long avenue, formed of poplar trees, leading to the porch, was overgrown with grass and weeds—a sign that few of his neighbours visited the resident, and that the old Polish hospitality was little practised there.The owner of this house had lived in it for seven years. He had come from a distant part of the country, and was little known to his peasants, who avoided him with fear and trembling because of the terrible stories told of his evil eye.He was born of rich parents on the banks of the river San. At the moment of his birth an unlucky star shone upon him, and he became possessed of an evil eye, a glance from which would cause disease and death to man and beast. If, in an unguarded moment, he looked upon the cattle, they died; whatever he regarded and praised, perished. To complete his misfortunes, his father and mother died broken-hearted. The “Evil Eye,” as he came to be called in his native place, where his pernicious glances had caused such destruction, sold all his property and removed to the banks of the Vistula. He there took up his abode in a solitary house, dismissed all the domestics, save only one—an old man-servant, who had nursed him in his infancy, and whom alone the evil eye had no power to harm.The Evil Eye seldom left home, seeing that desolation and even death followed his looks. Whenever he drove out, his old servant sat by his side, to warn him that they were approaching a village, a town, or human being. The unhappy man would then either close his eyes, or cast them down and look on a bundle of pea-straw, which was always lying at his feet.Knowing the baneful power of his eyes, which in spite of himself brought misery and desolation around him, the unfortunate man had his house so arranged that all the windows looked over the river Vistula. He trusted that by this arrangement he should neither hurt his neighbours nor injure his own property. Twice, in an evil hour, he had looked upon his farm houses, and twice they were burnt. But no precaution would fully suffice to this end. Many vessels were wrecked opposite the White House, as it was commonly called; and the boatmen on the river loaded him with imprecations as they pointed with terror to the large windows from which the Evil Eye brought upon them pain and disaster.One boatman, more courageous than the rest, rowed to the house and demanded to see its master. The old servant, although fearful of the consequences, took him to the room where his master was dining. Annoyed at being disturbed by a stranger, he looked at the intruder with a scowl, who fell immediately into such a state of alarm that he could not speak a word, but fainted at the door.The old servant, at the desire of his master, carried the man to his boat, gave him some money, and rowed him to the other side of the river. The poor fellow was ill for a long time, and when he recovered a little he gave a terrible account of the White House and of its master the Evil Eye. This greatly increased the terror of his companions; and whenever any of them passed in their boats or barges near the fatal spot, they would turn their eyes away from the White House and pray with fervour to be protected from the influence of the Evil Eye.Ten years had passed away since the White House became the terror of the boatmen and of the neighbouring inhabitants. No one would visit the Evil Eye. He spent his miserable days in silence and solitude.The following winter proved to be excessively severe. The wolves collected in herds, and maddened with cold and hunger, howled dismally round the house. The master, silent and gloomy, sat before the hearth, on which a large fire was burning, turning over the leaves of a book. The old servant, having fastened the doors, sat on the other side warming himself and repairing a net.“Stanislas,” said the master, “have you caught many fish to-day?”“Not many, master; but quite enough to serve us two.”“True,” said the master sorrowfully, “Although so many years have passed away, we are still but two. Oh, the unhappy hour that gave me birth!”Suddenly they heard a human voice in the courtyard crying for help. The master started, for it was a long time since he had heard a stranger’s voice. Stanislas ran out of the room, followed by his master, who carried a lamp in his hand.In front of the door they found a covered sledge, and near it stood an old man calling loudly for assistance. As soon as the stranger saw two men coming towards him with a light, he lifted a lady, his wife, who had fainted, out of the sledge, while old Stanislas assisted a young and beautiful maiden, his daughter, to alight.Once within doors they piled more wood on the fire, and soon restored the lady to herself. The master of the house, happy to play the host, brought in some good old wine and drank heartily to the health of the father of the young and beautiful girl, and of the two ladies.The old servant smiled to himself as he looked upon the joyful face of his master, on whose countenance gloom and sorrow had sat almost from his birth.The visitor, warmed and cheered by the generous wine, told his host how he was overtaken by the storm; how he had lost his way; had for a long time wandered about seeking a refuge in vain; and how, at last, he was met by a crowd of hungry wolves from whose fangs it was with the greatest difficulty he had escaped to, and found shelter in, the courtyard of the White House.Soon afterwards the fatigued travellers retired to warm and comfortable rooms to seek the rest they so much needed. Silence reigned again in the hall, broken only now and then by the crackling of the wood fire.The clock on the mantle-shelf in the hall struck one in the morning. Old Stanislas sat before the fire dozing, and now and then putting on some more fuel, when the door leading from the master’s apartments was softly opened and the unfortunate man himself entered the hall. The old servant, half asleep, rubbed his eyes and exclaimed, “Why, master, have you not gone to bed yet?”“Do not make a noise, my dear old friend,” said the master in a pleasant tone of voice; “I feel so happy today that I cannot close my eyes.” And he sat down in a large chair before the fire, smiling to himself, joyful even unto tears.“Ah, cry! poor master, cry!” thought Stanislas. “Perhaps you will cry away your evil eye!”“If heaven would but grant me what I wish,” said the master, “I would ask for nothing more. I have lived for thirty years alone, like a hermit or a criminal, and yet I have committed no crime nor wilfully injured a living creature. And all through my unhappy eyes!”His face, so smiling a moment before, assumed its usual expression of sorrow; but it soon passed away, as a ray of hope again lighted up the gloom.“My dear old friend,” he began, and Stanislas looked up at his master as he spoke, “it is possible that even I may marry.”“Heaven grant it!” cried the old servant joyfully. “But where are we to find our mistress?”The master rose, went on tiptoe to the door leading to the travellers’ apartments, and pointing with his finger, said in a whisper, “There!”Stanislas nodded his head approvingly as he put some last logs of wood on the fire for the night. The master, deeply occupied with thought, went to bed. The old servant muttering to himself, “Heaven grant it may come to pass; but I am afraid that pears will never grow on a willow-tree,” soon fell fast asleep.In the morning, when the travellers arose, they found they could not continue their journey on account of the elder lady’s illness. The master of the house heard with pleasure that they were likely to stay for a few days longer. Stanislas began to think that it was possible that pears might grow on a willow-tree.The visitor was a gentleman in comparatively easy circumstances. It is true he was not rich, but he had means, and was upright and independent. He was pleased with the hospitable master of the house, and after a week’s stay he said to his wife, whose health had greatly improved,—”Maggie, do you know that I begin to think our kind host is rather stricken with our Mary; and she, so far as I can see, has no disinclination to his suit. For my part, I should have no objection to the match, provided always that everything else is satisfactory.”“It is only your fancy,” answered his wife. She was, however, glad that her husband did not object to what she herself heartily desired.“He seems to be a very amiable man, well conducted, and to have sufficient means to live upon,” continued the father as he walked about the room. “Our daughter, too, is old enough now to enter into the holy state of matrimony.”After supper, the visitor, having partaken of the generous wine of his host, listened with a smiling face to the offer which the master of the house, in a modest manner, made for the hand of his daughter Mary. The father, having considered a little, said,—”I am much pleased with you and your kind proposal. Since you have enough to live upon, and ask for no dowry, I am willing that my daughter should become your wife. May you be happy and blessed in your children.”Three months afterwards the Evil Eye wedded his beautiful wife. The grass and weeds disappeared from the long avenue of poplar trees leading to the house, trodden down by the horses and carriages of the friends of the bride. But when in a little while all the visitors had departed, the grass and weeds began to grow before the White House as before.Another winter was approaching, and the inhabitants of the White House had been increased by one person only—its mistress. Most of the numerous servants who were engaged at the marriage, soon ran away in terror, on hearing that their master had an evil eye. The few who remained, having suffered greatly from illness, finally left the house also. Its young and beautiful mistress was deserted; and in the hour of her distress lay alone—forsaken by her friends—on the costly bed. Her husband only was present, his face turned away from her, as he held her cold, damp hand in his own. She knew the terrible effect of his evil eye; she knew that each time he glanced at her, he but added to her pain and sorrow, yet, in her affectionate nature, and loving him, she begged that he would look upon her at least once more.“Oh, Mary!” cried the unhappy man, with a deep sigh, “I know I can never be happy with you so long as I have my sight. Here is a knife—cut out my eyes! Done by your dear hand the act will lose its pain and anguish.”The poor wife trembled with horror at the proposal, and her husband, seeing that he could not prevail upon her, sank in a chair, and shed bitter tears.“Of what value to me is this heavenly gift—the gift of sight!” he exclaimed. “At every glance I bring destruction and misery about me! No wonder, dearest Mary, that your pain is great: a tree would wither as I looked at it. But take courage, love; I will not look upon our child. Him at least my eyes shall not injure.”The suffering woman answered him only with a groan. He called the old servant in, and left her. Soon afterwards two cries, unlike in their sound, were heard in the house. The one—the joyful cry of a new-born infant, as it first saw the light; the other—the agonised cry of a man, the infant’s father, as he parted with sight for ever! His eyes, glittering like two diamonds, lay on the ground by the side of a blood-stained knife.Another six years had passed away. Windows had been made on the side of the White House from which a beautiful view of the village and fields could be obtained. The boatmen now often stopped near the house to rest. Its mistress was well and happy: blessed in a beautiful daughter, who was the guide of her blind father. The peasants no longer ran away at the sight of their master. The former silence reigned no more at the White House, numerous servants were in attendance, and the whole place was full of life and bustle.Old Stanislas, who had buried his master’s eyes at the time of the self-sacrifice, was now bent with age. One day, curious to know whether they had perished or not, he dug for them in the ground. Suddenly they glared upon him like two live coals. As soon as their baneful light shone upon his wrinkled face, the old man shivered, fell down, and died.This was the first and last time that the evil eye exercised its power for harm upon the old servant. For as the master loved him dearly, so his heart counteracted the effect of his eye; but now the eyes, long buried in the ground, and freed from the influence of the heart of their master, had acquired additional strength for evil, and killed the poor old man.The blind master deeply lamented his faithful servant. In memory of his fidelity he erected a handsome cross over his grave, beneath which the boatmen often prayed.
Little happened that needs to be told in the next few months, either to the fairies or to the human people. John O’Brien and Peter Sullivan were not long in finding work to do, and they were paid for it, and the two families got on better than they had in Ireland. The O’Briens got on better than the Sullivans. John was a better workman than Peter. Peter could do the work that was set before him in the way that he was told. But John could do better than that. He could see for himself how the work ought to be done, and he saw that if he did it well he might get better work to do. In Ireland, work as he would, he could no more than live, and so he had come to care little what he did or how he did it. But it was different here. The men who employed him saw that he was not a common workman, and soon they gave him better than the common work and more than the common pay.But Peter was a common workman. Then, too, John’s mother knew how to care for the house better than Ellen did, and because of that, too, the O’Briens did better. Every day, just as she used to do in Ireland, Mrs. O’Brien left something to eat and drink outside the house for the Good People. She said that she did not know whether there were any Good People here, but if there were they must be well treated. And when she found that what she left for them was taken, she said that she knew that there were Good People here. Of course she did not know that they were the same ones who had lived near them in Ireland. She put the milk and the water and the bread, or whatever she had for them, on the fire-escape, at the back of the rooms where they lived. And first she always laid down a little piece of carpet to put the dishes on, so that the fairies could come and get the food without touching the iron, for she knew that they could never do that. There was only one thing that did not go well with the O’Briens. Kitty’s health did not come back to her, as they had hoped that it would. She did not need to do any work now, though she would do some, and the rest was good for her, but she was still pale and still weak.Though the Sullivans did not find their fortunes so much improved in the new country as the O’Briens did, yet they felt that they had gained, too, and in one way especially. For the King of the fairies had forbidden Naggeneen to trouble them any more. Naggeneen asked what for at all he had come over all the sea, if he was not to trouble the Sullivans. The King was always ready enough to have Naggeneen’s help, when he thought that his cleverness would be of use; but there were times when he would be obeyed, and this was one of them, so Naggeneen had to do as he was told.The King tried all the things that Naggeneen had told him to do, to make his people learn all the wonderful magic that the human people knew so well. Naggeneen had told him at first that it would all be of no use, and so the King found it. The fairies were sent out to watch the men, to see all that they did, and to learn how to do it. It was all in vain.The King often asked Naggeneen what was the one other way that he had said they might try. Naggeneen would never tell. When the time came to try it, he said, he would tell what it was, but it would be of no more use than the rest that they had done. Naggeneen laughed at all the others when they came home baffled and out of sorts. “You’ll never do the things that men do,” he said, “any more than they’ll ever do the things that you do. And their wonders are more and better than yours.”After a time they ceased to try to learn any more. They began to live much as they had lived in Ireland. They had found a green place where they could dance, near the palace, but it was winter now, and the snow was over everything much of the time. They went to the O’Briens every day for the food that was left outside the window for them, and, for the most part, they spent the rest of the time in the palace. Often Naggeneen played the fiddle or the pipes for them. Then they forgot that it was his fault that they had ever come here, but when he stopped playing they remembered it and hated him again. And Naggeneen laughed at them. He had a strange laugh, without a bit of merriment or good-humor in it. There was something sad in his laugh and something sour, but nothing that it was pleasant to hear.Then the spring began to come. The grass was looking a bit green and the air was warmer. They could dance on the grass now, whenever they liked. They had given up trying to learn the ways of men, and they were beginning to feel as if they had always lived here. Then Naggeneen came one evening and stood before the King and said: “It is the time now to try my plan, if you want to try it, but it’s no good.”“What’s the plan, then, at all?” the King asked.“You know well,” said Naggeneen, “that your people can find out nothing by going out and watching what men do. Now, what you want is to get a human child here, or maybe two of them, and keep them and let them grow up with you here, and then send them out to learn everything that men do, and come back and teach it to your people. Then you’ll learn all these things that men do, and you can do the like.”“Ah, Naggeneen,” said the King, “it’s yourself was always the clever boy. We’ll do that same.”“You will so,” Naggeneen replied, “and no good will it ever do you. I’ve told you before and I tell you again, you’ll never do the things that men do. But it’s crazy you are to try all ways, and I have to be telling you the ways to try. Go on and do it, if it divarts you.”“And where’ll we get the human child at all?” the Queen asked.“Sure then,” said Naggeneen, “and haven’t you heard the news? Why, there’s a baby at the Sullivans’ since this morning, and one at the O’Briens’ since this afternoon. The one at the Sullivans’ is a boy and the one at the O’Briens’ is a girl. Go and get them and leave two of your own people in their places. You know how to do that; it’s nothing new to you.”“Take a child from the O’Briens!” the Queen cried. “From them that’s always been so good to us and always given us the bit and sup, when they scarcely had it themselves? I’d never do such a thing.”“But you’ld be leaving one of your own people in the place of it,” Naggeneen answered, “and they’ld never know the differ. Or if they did, it would be no matter. A woman makes a great hullabaloo when her child looks sick and she thinks it’s dying on her, but she doesn’t care at all after a little. And then, it doesn’t die, and she thinks it’s her own child all the time, and there’s no harm done. And His Majesty here thinks it’s going to do a power of good for all of you. It’s not, but he thinks it is.”“We’ll never take a child from the O’Briens if I can help it,” the Queen said. “From the Sullivans I don’t care, but not from the O’Briens.”“We’ll have to do it,” said the King. “I don’t like to hurt the O’Briens myself, but it’s for the good of us all, and it’s our only chance. These mortals are getting ahead of us that far, and they’ll be doing something next that will exterminate us entirely. We’ll send and get both the children.”The Queen urged again that the O’Briens had always been good to the Good People and must not be harmed, but the King had his mind set on Naggeneen’s plan and he would hear of nothing else. It was settled and it could not be changed. They must have both children. They should live among the fairies till they were old enough to be sent out to learn the ways of men. And they should always come back and teach the fairies the ways of men that they had learned.“And it’s to-night we’d better be doing it, if we’re to do it at all,” said the King. “Now, who’ll be the ones to go and be put in the place of the children?”Nobody seemed to care about going to play the part of a baby with the Sullivans, or even with the O’Briens. Everybody was trying to get out of the King’s sight behind the others. “We’ld have to be lyin’ still all day,” one whispered, “with never a dance to rest ourselves with.”“They might be puttin’ holy water on us,” said another, and all who heard him shivered.“There’ll be all sorts of unpleasantness, anyway,” said a third.“Maybe they’ld find us out,” said a fourth, “and then they’ld be puttin’ all sorts of horrible charms on us to be rid of us.”But the King called one of the women and told her that she must go and stay in the place of the baby at the O’Briens. She whimpered a little, but she knew that what the King said must be done. Then the King looked around him and said, “Where’s Naggeneen got to at all now?”“Here I am to the fore,” said Naggeneen.“You’ll go,” said the King, “and you’ll be put in the place of the boy that’s at the Sullivans.”“I go!” said Naggeneen. “Never a step. Didn’t I tell you of the plan? And that’s enough. Now do it for yourself. I don’t belong to you and you know it. Do your own work.”“I’ll not be disputin’ with you,” said the King. “Whether you belong to me or no, you’re in my palace along with my tribe, and you’ll do what I tell you. It’s tired of you I’ve been this great while, and now I’ve a chance to be rid of you. You’ll go to the Sullivans and you’ll stay there and you’ll grow up like their child. And mind you play your part well and don’t let them know what you are. If you do, they’ll work some charm on you and be rid of you, and then we’ll have to send back the real child, and all your own plan will be lost.”“And how will you carry out my plan without me?” Naggeneen asked. “Don’t I always tell you what to do? You’ll want me a dozen times a day.”“We’ll not want you at all. You do tell us what to do and we do it when we like, and it’s small good ever came of it. And then, if we do want anything of you, we know where to find you, and we’ll easily come to you. It’s been done before. You was left in the place of a young man that was taken away once before, and when the tribe that you was with then wanted to talk to you they came to you, and we can do the same if we like, but I don’t think we shall like.”“That’s just it,” Naggeneen cried; “did you know about that time? This time would be just like it. Do you know how they drove me off? I couldn’t help it then and I couldn’t help it again. There’s times when it seems like there’s a charm on me, and so there is, belike, and I have to do a thing that it’s bad for me to do. Do you know the whole of it, how it was that time?“It was a man that time, as you say, and not a child. Rickard the Rake he was called, I remember, and a fine rake he was. Never a bit of work would he do, but he’ld always be at every fair or wake or the like of that. And so little good there was in him that the fairies in the rath where I was then said: ‘It’s an easy thing it’ll be stealing him away, and serve him right, too, and he’ll be handy for us, he’s so good a dancer.’“I was ordered to be the one to be left in his place, though I knew no good would come of it. And so one night, when he was dancing, we struck him with a dart in the hip, and he fell down where he was. And then, in all the bother and the noise that there was, it was easy to get him away and to leave me in the place of him. So they took me up and put me in bed and nursed me and did all they could think of for me, and me all the time squirming and squealing, like it was dying I was.“They gave me everything I could think of to eat, and that was not so bad, for I never lived better in my life; but it was worn out I was getting, with lying there all the time and playing sick, and never a chance to stir about or get any air or a minute to myself. And the thing I was spoiling for was a tune out of the pipes or the fiddle. Then they brought a fairy-man to look at me, and he said it was a fairy and not Rickard at all that was in it, and I couldn’t be telling you all the bad names he put on me and the things he said about me. And he said: ‘Leave a pair of bagpipes near him, and maybe he’ll play them. You know well Rickard never could play at all, and so if he plays them we’ll know that it’s not Rickard, but a fairy changeling, and then we’ll know what to do.'”Just here I must stop Naggeneen in his story for a minute, to tell you that when people in Ireland speak of a “fairy-man” they do not mean a man fairy. They mean a man who knows all about fairies. The fairy-men know all that the fairies can do, and they know the charms against them and the ways to cure a sickness that the fairies have brought upon anyone, and the ways to keep them from stealing the cream from the milk and the milk from the cow. So the people have great respect for a fairy-man or a fairy-woman, and they often send to one of them for help, when they think that the fairies may have done them a mischief.“They left the pipes beside me,” Naggeneen went on, “and then they went away. Oh, it was then I had the terrible time all out. Oh, may I never long for anything again as I longed to play them pipes! But I knew that they’ld be listening and watching, and if they caught me at it, I’ld have to pay for it, if they could make me. So I kept my hands off them and only groaned and took on as if the dart in my hip was killing me entirely.“Then there was one hot afternoon, and everything was still about the house, and it was the harvest time, and they all had a right to be in the fields at work. And sure I thought it was there they were. And then the wish to play the pipes came on me worse than ever before. And it was then that it was like there was a charm on me, as I was telling you. I had to do what I did. I could no more help doing it than a girl can help dancing with us, when we get her in our ring on May Eve. But first I opened the door a crack and looked out into the kitchen, to see was there anybody there, and there was nobody. But they were all in another room, as I found out after, waiting and listening. There was the fairy-man and a fairy-woman and all the people of the house, and some of the neighbors.“But if I’d seen them all I dunno if I could have done other than I did, the power, whatever it was, was on me that strong. And I took the pipes and played. It was soft I played at first, and then the music got the better of me and I went on more and louder, and I played tunes and tunes. I could play as well then as I can now, and so the other fairies, that had been without me for some time, must have heard me playing, for soon I heard the rustle and the whisper and the patter of their coming, and then they gathered round me, and I had been left there lonely for so long that I kept on playing, to keep them with me.“It was then the fairy-man and the fairy-woman began talking, and I heard every word they said, as no doubt they meant I should. ‘What’ll we do with the little beast at all?’ says she.“‘We’ll do something that’s not too unpleasant at first,’ says he. ‘We’ll take him and hold his head under the water, and see will that drive any of the devilment out of him.’“‘Oh, the thief!’ says she. ‘That’s not the way to treat him at all. Let’s heat the shovel and put him on it and throw him out the window.’“‘Ah, why will you be that cruel?’ says he. ‘Just let me heat the tongs red hot in the fire and then I’ll catch him by the nose with them, and we’ll find out will that make him go home and send poor Rickard back to us.’“‘That’s not enough,’ says she. ‘I’ll go and bring some of the juice of the lussmore that I have, and we’ll make him drink it, and then if he’s a fairy he’ll wish that he was a man, so that he could die, it’ll make that consternation inside him.’“‘We’ll do the both of them things,’ says he, and with that they both started into the kitchen, and all the rest of the people after them. But you may believe that by that time I was not there at all. I’d had enough of their kindness and I didn’t think it was right to wait for any more of it. But I looked in at the window for a last glimpse of them, and one of the women saw me, and she screamed, and then the fairy-man made after me with the tongs, and I had to vanish completely. And you know what would happen then. When they drove me off, of course we had to send back Rickard, and there they found him the next morning, asleep in his bed, as sound as ever he was in his life.“And that was not all. The lesson that he’d had was enough for him, and he left drinking and fighting and swearing, and he helped his old father and his brothers on the farm, and he was another man altogether. And so it’s as I told you. You can never get the better of men, if they know anything, and all you do to hurt them only helps them. And so it will be if you send me to the Sullivans.”“If you’re done talking about it now,” said the King, “you’ll go to the Sullivans and stay in the place of the child that we’re to carry off. It’s not likely they’ll be leaving any pipes or any fiddle about for you to play on, and you can stay there quite comfortable.“Off with him now!” the King cried to a dozen of his men, “and mind you don’t come back without the child. And the same to you,” he said again to others of his men; “take the woman and leave her in the place of the child at the O’Briens’.”The two parties were off, like two little swarms of bees, the one with Naggeneen and the other with the woman. The rest of the fairies waited. The Queen sat on her throne, with her face turned away from the rest and hidden in her hands. The King, with a troubled face, sat looking straight before him, not moving an eye or a hand. The others stood as far off as they could go. Nobody played; nobody danced; nobody laughed or whispered. They waited and watched and listened. Then there was a little murmur and buzz of one of the parties coming back. It was the one that had been to the Sullivans.The King looked up and seemed to look through the fairies without seeing them. “Have you the child with you?” he asked.“We have,” said the leader.“And where’s Naggeneen?” the King asked.“Lying in the bed beside Mrs. Sullivan,” the leader answered, “and squealing like a pig under a gate.”“Give the child something to eat and make him comfortable,” said the King.The Queen turned suddenly around. “Don’t give him anything to eat yet,” she said. “We’ve nothing here but our own food. You couldn’t give him that. What did you bring him here for? Was it not so that you could send him out again, as he grows up, to learn to do the things that men do? And if he touched a bit of our food or our drink, you know he could never leave us.”“That’s the true word,” said the King. “Here! Some of you go to the O’Briens’ and see is there any milk left out of the window. And bring back enough so there’ll be some for the other child, when we get her.”As the fairies set off on this errand there came a sound like the whistling of the wind through the door, and those who had gone to bring the O’Briens’ child were back. They were back in a whirl and a rush and a scramble and a rout. They were all screaming and crying and whimpering and gabbling and gibbering together, and they all fell and sprawled together in a heap before the King. In the midst of them was the woman who had been sent to take the place of the O’Briens’ child.“What for are you here without the child?” the King cried. “And what are you all doing there on the floor, like fish tumbled out of a basket? Get up and tell me what’s wrong with you! Where is the child?”The fairies all choked and gasped and groaned and tried to speak. Then the leader of the party staggered up to his feet and stammered out: “The child is where it was before we went for it. We could not bring it; we could not take it; we could not touch it. You might as well be asking us to bring a lily from the fields of heaven.”“And why could you not take it?” the King asked. “Was the mother holding it so fast in her arms? Could you not make her look the other way while you’ld be taking it? Could you not put some charm on her so that she’ld let it go? Or was she praying all the time, so that you could do nothing with her? Or was she making those signs over it that none of us can stand?”“No, no,” said the leader, so low that they could scarcely hear him; “no, it wasn’t that; the mother was doing none of them things. The mother was dead!”For a minute everybody was still. The Queen started and looked at the leader of the party and leaned toward him. All the others gazed at him too. Then the King said, “And why did you not bring the child?”“I’m after telling you we couldn’t touch the child,” the leader answered. “I went to take it, and all at once I felt burning hot, and like I was all dried up into a cinder, and I think they must have drawn a circle of fire round the child. And then I had that fearful feeling that you have when you’re near a horseshoe nail. There must have been one somewhere about. You couldn’t mistake that feeling—as if needles of ice were going all through and through you. And so I was driven back and could get no nearer to the child.”The woman who had been sent to take the place of the child was standing near the King now, though she could scarcely stand at all, and her face was all wet with tears. “But they made me go nearer to the child than that,” she cried. “These others pushed me close to her, so that I’ld take her place and give the child to them. And I felt burned up like a cinder, too, and then I felt the icy needles, and then worse than that. I felt as if I was all cut across and across and through and through with flaming swords, and torn with red-hot saws. Not the way it is when you divide yourself, so that you can be in two places at once. Anybody can do that, and it hurts no more than cutting a lock of hair, but this was—oh! there’s only one thing could do this. There was a pair of open scissors lying close to the child, and I almost touched them!”She could say no more, and there was no more to be said. “You couldn’t get the child, then,” said the King, “and there’s the end of it. Nobody could, if they did all them things. I dunno how it is,” the King went on, half to himself, “a child lies there with a pair of scissors open near by, and a horseshoe nail close to it—maybe hung around its neck—and a circle drawn around it with a coal of fire, and it never minds it at all. It sleeps and wakes and lies there as peaceful and happy and quiet as if there was nothing at all out of the common about it. I dunno how they can do it. They’re queer people, these mortals. We can’t get the girl. They was too clever for us. But we’ve got the boy, and we’ll do the best we can with him.”
In a far distant land there reigned a king, and he had an only daughter who was so very beautiful that no one in the whole kingdom could be compared to her. She was known as Princess Pietnotka, and the fame of her beauty spread far and wide. There were many princes among her suitors, but her choice fell upon Prince Dobrotek. She obtained her father’s consent to their marriage, and then, attended by a numerous suite, set off with her lover for the church, having first, as was the custom, received her royal parent’s blessing. Most of the princes who had been unsuccessful in their wooing of Pietnotka returned disappointed to their own kingdoms: but one of them, a dwarf only seven inches high, with an enormous hump on his back and a beard seven feet long, who was a powerful prince and magician, was so enraged that he determined to have his revenge. So he changed himself into a whirlwind and lay in wait to receive the princess. When the wedding procession was about to enter the church the air was suddenly filled with a blinding cloud of dust, and Pietnotka was borne up high as the highest clouds, and then right down to an underground palace. There the dwarf, for it was he who had worked this spell, disappeared, leaving her in a lifeless condition.When she opened her eyes she found herself in such a magnificent apartment that she imagined some king must have run away with her. She got up and began to walk about, when lo! as if by some unseen hand the table was laden with gold and silver dishes, filled with cakes of every kind. They looked so tempting, that in spite of her grief she could not resist tasting, and she continued to eat until she was more than satisfied. She returned to the sofa and lay down to rest, but being unable to sleep, she looked first at the door, and then at the lamp burning on the table, then at the door again, and then back to the lamp. Suddenly the door opened of itself, giving entrance to four negroes fully armed, and bearing a golden throne, upon which was seated the Dwarf with the Long Beard. He came close up to the sofa and attempted to kiss the princess, but she struck him such a blow in the face that a thousand stars swam before his eyes, and a thousand bells rang in his ears; upon which he gave such a shout, that the palace walls trembled. Yet his love for her was so great that he did his best not to show his anger, and turned away as if to leave her. But his feet became entangled in his long beard, and he fell down, dropping a cap he was carrying in his hand. Now this cap had the power of making its wearer invisible. The negroes hastened up to their master, and placing him on his throne bore him out.Directly the princess found herself alone she jumped off the sofa, locked the door, and picking up the cap ran to a mirror to try it on and see how it suited her. Imagine her amazement when looking in the glass she saw—nothing at all! She took off the cap, and behold, she was there again as large as life. She soon found out what sort of cap it was, and rejoicing in the possession of such a marvel, put it on her head again and began to walk about the room. Soon the door was burst violently open, and the dwarf entered with his beard tied up. But he found neither the princess nor the cap, and so came to the conclusion that she had taken it. In a great rage he began to search high and low; he looked under all the furniture, behind the curtains, and even beneath the carpets, but it was all in vain. Meanwhile the princess, still invisible, had left the palace and run into the garden, which was very large and beautiful. There she lived at her ease, eating the delicious fruit, drinking water from the fountain, and enjoying the helpless fury of the dwarf, who sought her untiringly. Sometimes she would throw the fruit-stones in his face, or take off the cap and show herself for an instant: then she would put it on again, and laugh merrily at his rage.One day, while playing this game, the cap caught in the branches of a gooseberry bush. The dwarf seeing this at once ran up, seized the princess in one hand and the cap in the other, and was about to carry both off when the sound of a war-trumpet was heard.The dwarf trembled with rage and muttered a thousand curses. He breathed on the princess to send her to sleep, covered her with the invisible cap, and seizing a double-bladed sword, rose up in the air as high as the clouds, so that he might fall upon his assailant and kill him at one stroke. We shall now see with whom he had to deal.After the hurricane had upset the wedding procession and carried off the princess, there arose a great tumult among those at court. The king, the princess’s attendants, and Prince Dobrotek sought her in every direction, calling her by name, and making inquiries of every one they met. At last, the king in despair declared that if Prince Dobrotek did not bring back his daughter, he would destroy his kingdom and have him killed. And to the other princes present he promised that whosoever among them should bring Pietnotka back to him should have her for his wife and receive half of the kingdom. Whereupon they all mounted their horses without loss of time and dispersed in every direction.Prince Dobrotek, overpowered with grief and dismay, travelled three days without eating, drinking, or sleeping. On the evening of the third day he was quite worn-out with fatigue, and stopping his horse in a field, got down to rest for a short time. Suddenly he heard cries, as of something in pain, and looking round saw an enormous owl tearing a hare with its claws. The prince laid hold of the first hard thing that came to his hand; he imagined it to be a stone, but it was really a skull, and aiming it at the owl, killed the bird with the first blow. The rescued hare ran up to him and gratefully licked his hands, after which it ran away: but the human skull spoke to him and said, “Prince Dobrotek, accept my grateful thanks for the good turn you have done me. I belonged to an unhappy man who took his own life, and for this crime of suicide I have been condemned to roll in the mud until I was the means of saving the life of one of God’s creatures. I have been kicked about for seven hundred and seventy years, crumbling miserably on the earth, and without exciting the compassion of a single individual. You have been the means of setting me free by making use of me to save the life of that poor hare. In return for this kindness I will teach you how to call to your aid a most marvellous horse, who during my life belonged to me. He will be able to help you in a thousand ways, and when in need of him you have only to walk out on the moorland without once looking behind you, and to say:‘Dappled Horse with Mane of Gold,Horse of Wonder! Come to me.Walk not the earth, for I am toldYou fly like birds o’er land and sea.’Finish your work of mercy by burying me here, so that I may be at rest until the day of judgment. Then depart in peace and be of good cheer.”The prince dug a hole at the foot of a tree, and reverently buried the skull, repeating over it the prayers for the dead. Just as he finished he saw a small blue flame come out of the skull and fly towards heaven: it was the soul of the dead man on its way to the angels.The prince made the sign of the cross and resumed his journey. When he had gone some way along the moorland he stopped, and without looking back tried the effect of the magic words, saying:“Dappled Horse with Mane of Gold,Horse of Wonder! Come to me.Walk not the earth, for I am toldYou fly like birds o’er land and sea.”Then amid flash of lightning and roll of thunder appeared the horse. A horse, do I say? Why, he was a miracle of wonder. He was light as air, with dappled coat and golden mane. Flames came from his nostrils and sparks from his eyes. Volumes of steam rolled from his mouth and clouds of smoke issued from his ears. He stopped before the prince, and said in a human voice, “What are your orders, Prince Dobrotek?”“I am in great trouble,” answered the prince, “and shall be glad if you can help me.” Then he told all that had happened.And the horse said, “Enter in at my left ear, and come out at my right.”The prince obeyed, and came out at the right ear clad in a suit of splendid armour. His gilded cuirass, his steel helmet inlaid with gold, and his sword and club made of him a complete warrior. Still more, he felt himself endowed with superhuman strength and bravery. When he stamped his foot and shouted the earth trembled and gave forth a sound like thunder, the very leaves fell from the trees.“What must we do? Where are we to go?” he asked.The horse replied, “Your bride, Princess Pietnotka, has been carried off by the Dwarf with the Long Beard, whose hump weighs two hundred and eighty pounds. This powerful magician must be defeated, but he lives a long way from here, and nothing can touch or wound him except the sharp smiting sword that belongs to his own brother, a monster with the head and eyes of a basilisk. We must first attack the brother.”Prince Dobrotek leaped on to the dappled horse, which was covered with golden trappings, and they set off immediately, clearing mountains, penetrating forests, crossing rivers; and so light was the steed’s step that he galloped over the grass without bending a single blade, and along sandy roads without raising a grain of dust. At last they reached a vast plain, strewn with human bones. They stopped in front of a huge moving mountain, and the horse said:“Prince, this moving mountain that you see before you is the head of the Monster with Basilisk Eyes, and the bones that whiten the ground are the skeletons of his victims, so beware of the eyes that deal death. The heat of the midday sun has made the giant sleep, and the sword with the never-failing blade lies there before him. Bend down and lie along my neck until we are near enough, then seize the sword and you have nothing more to fear. For, without the sword, not only will the monster be unable to harm you, but he himself will be completely at your mercy.”The horse then noiselessly approached the huge creature, upon which the prince bent down, and quickly picked up the sword. Then, raising himself on his steed’s back, he gave a “Hurrah!” loud enough to wake the dead. The giant lifted his head, yawned, and turned his bloodthirsty eyes upon the prince; but seeing the sword in his hand he became quiet, and said, “Knight, is it weariness of life that brings you here?”“Boast not,” replied the prince, “you are in my power. Your glance has already lost its magic charm, and you will soon have to die by this sword. But first tell me who you are.”“It is true, prince, I am in your hands, but be generous, I deserve your pity. I am a knight of the race of giants, and if it were not for the wickedness of my brother I should have lived in peace. He is the horrible dwarf with the great hump and the beard seven feet long. He was jealous of my fine figure, and tried to do me an injury. You must know that all his strength, which is extraordinary, lies in his beard, and it can only be cut off by the sword you hold in your hand. One day he came to me and said, ‘Dear brother, I pray you help me to discover the sharp smiting sword that has been hidden in the earth by a magician. He is our enemy, and he alone can destroy us both.’ Fool that I was, I believed him, and by means of a large oak tree, raked up the mountain and found the sword. Then we disputed as to which of us should have it, and at last my brother suggested that we should cease quarrelling and decide by lot. ‘Let us each put an ear to the ground, and the sword shall belong to him who first hears the bells of yonder church,’ said he. I placed my ear to the ground at once, and my brother treacherously cut off my head with the sword. My body, left unburied, became a great mountain, which is now overgrown with forests. As for my head, it is full of a life and strength proof against all dangers, and has remained here ever since to frighten all who attempt to take away the sword. Now, prince, I beg of you, use the sword to cut off the beard of my wicked brother; kill him, and return here to put an end to me: I shall die happy if I die avenged.”“That you shall be, and very soon, I promise you,” replied his listener.The prince bade the Dappled Horse with Golden Mane carry him to the kingdom of the Dwarf with the Long Beard. They reached the garden gate at the very moment when the dwarf had caught sight of Princess Pietnotka and was running after her. The war-trumpet, challenging him to fight, had obliged him to leave her, which he did, having first put on her head the invisible cap.While the prince was awaiting the answer to his challenge he heard a great noise in the clouds, and looking up saw the dwarf preparing to aim at him from a great height. But he missed his aim and fell to the ground so heavily that his body was half buried in the earth. The prince seized him by the beard, which he at once cut off with the sharp smiting sword.Then he fastened the dwarf to the saddle, put the beard in his helmet, and entered the palace. When the servants saw that he had really got possession of the terrible beard, they opened all the doors to give him entrance. Without losing a moment he began his search for Princess Pietnotka. For a long time he was unsuccessful, and was almost in despair when he came across her accidentally, and, without knowing it, knocked off the invisible cap. He saw his lovely bride sound asleep, and being unable to wake her he put the cap in his pocket, took her in his arms, and, mounting his steed, set off to return to the Monster with the Basilisk Eyes. The giant swallowed the dwarf at one mouthful, and the prince cut the monster’s head up into a thousand pieces, which he scattered all over the plain.He then resumed his journey, and on coming to the moorland the dappled horse stopped short and said, “Prince, here for the present we must take leave of each other. You are not far from home, your own horse awaits you; but before leaving, enter in at my right ear and come out at my left.”The prince did so, and came out without his armour, and clad as when Pietnotka left him.The dappled horse vanished, and Dobrotek whistled to his own horse, who ran up, quite pleased to see him again. They immediately set off for the king’s palace.But night came on before they reached the end of their journey.The prince laid the sleeping maiden on the grass, and, covering her up carefully to keep her warm, he himself fell fast asleep. By chance, a knight, one of her suitors, passed that way. Seeing Dobrotek asleep he drew his sword and stabbed him; then he lifted the princess on his horse and soon reached the king’s palace, where he addressed Pietnotka’s father in these words: “Here is your daughter, whom I now claim as my wife, for it is I who have restored her to you. She was carried off by a terrible sorcerer who fought with me three days and three nights. But I conquered him, and I have brought you the princess safely back.”The king was overjoyed at seeing her again, but finding that his tenderest efforts were powerless to awake her, he wanted to know the reason of it.“That I cannot tell you,” replied the impostor; “you see her as I found her myself.”Meanwhile, poor Prince Dobrotek, seriously wounded, was slowly recovering consciousness, but he felt so weak that he could hardly utter these words:“Come, Magic Horse with Mane of Gold,Come, Dappled Horse, O come to me.Fly like the birds as you did of old,As flashes of lightning o’er land and sea.”Instantly a bright cloud appeared, and from the midst thereof stepped the magic horse. As he already knew all that had happened, he dashed off immediately to the Mountain of Eternal Life. Thence he drew the three kinds of water: the Water that gives Life, the Water that Cures, and the Water that Strengthens. Returning to the prince, he sprinkled him first with the Life-giving Water, and instantly the body, which had become cold, was warm again and the blood began to circulate. The Water that Cures healed the wound, and the Strength-giving Water had such an effect upon him that he opened his eyes and cried out, “Oh, how well I have slept.”“You were already sleeping the eternal sleep,” replied the dappled horse. “One of your rivals stabbed you mortally, and carried off Pietnotka, whom he pretends to have rescued. But do not worry yourself, she still sleeps, and none can arouse her but you, and this you must do by touching her with the dwarf’s beard. Go now, and be happy.”The brave steed disappeared in a whirlwind, and Prince Dobrotek proceeded on his way. On drawing near the capital he saw it surrounded by a large foreign army; part of it was already taken, and the inhabitants seemed to be begging for mercy. The prince put on his invisible cap, and began to strike right and left with the sharp smiting sword. With such fury did he attack the enemy that they fell dead on all sides, like felled trees. When he had thus destroyed the whole army he went, still invisible, into the palace, where he heard the king express the utmost astonishment that the enemy had retired without fighting.“Where then is the brave warrior who has saved us?” said his majesty aloud.Every one was silent, when Dobrotek took off his magic cap, and falling on his knees before the monarch, said: “It is I, my king and father, who have routed and destroyed the enemy. It is I who saved the princess, my bride. While on my way back with her I was treacherously killed by my rival, who has represented himself to you as her rescuer, but he has deceived you. Lead me to the princess, that I may awaken her.”On hearing these words the impostor ran away as quickly as possible, and Dobrotek approached the sleeping maiden. He just touched her brow with the dwarf’s beard, upon which she opened her eyes, smiled, and seemed to ask where she was.The king, overcome with joy, kissed her fondly, and the same evening she was married to the devoted Prince Dobrotek. The king himself led her to the altar, and to his son-in-law he gave half his kingdom. So splendid was the wedding banquet, that eye has never seen, nor ear ever heard of its equal.
The weasels live, no more than cats,On terms of friendship with the rats;And, were it not that theseThrough doors contrive to squeezeToo narrow for their foes,The animals long-snoutedWould long ago have routed,And from the planet scoutedTheir race, as I suppose.One year it did betide,When they were multiplied,An army took the fieldOf rats, with spear and shield,Whose crowded ranks led onA king named Ratapon.The weasels, too, their bannerUnfurl’d in warlike manner.As Fame her trumpet sounds,The victory balanced well;Enrich’d were fallow groundsWhere slaughter’d legions fell;But by said trollop’s tattle,The loss of life in battleThinn’d most the rattish raceIn almost every place;And finally their routWas total, spite of stoutArtarpax and Psicarpax,And valiant Meridarpax,Who, cover’d o’er with dust,Long time sustain’d their hostDown sinking on the plain.Their efforts were in vain;Fate ruled that final hour,(Inexorable power!)And so the captains fledAs well as those they led;The princes perish’d all.The undistinguish’d smallIn certain holes found shelter;In crowding, helter-skelter;But the nobilityCould not go in so free,Who proudly had assumedEach one a helmet plumed;We know not, truly, whetherFor honour’s sake the feather,Or foes to strike with terror;But, truly, ’twas their error.Nor hole, nor crack, nor creviceWill let their head-gear in;While meaner rats in beviesAn easy passage win;—So that the shafts of fateDo chiefly hit the great.A feather in the capIs oft a great mishap.An equipage too grandComes often to a standWithin a narrow place.The small, whate’er the case,With ease slip through a strait,Where larger folks must wait.
The Story of a Clever Youth and a Foolish OneLong ago there lived a little maid who fell ill. Her father was very rich and he did everything he could for her.One day she said: “If I only had some fresh figs I’m sure I’d feel better.”Now it was in the month of January. It would be many long months before the fresh figs would be ripe. The rich man was greatly worried. Not even his fortune could ripen the figs, as he well knew.Nevertheless he decided to advertise and therefore said: “Whoever shall bring fresh figs to my daughter shall marry her if he be young. If he be old he shall receive his reward in money.”This announcement was spread abroad throughout the whole country, but no one had any fresh figs in the month of January. At last, however, there was a woman found who had a fig tree close by the side of her house, protected from the cold winds by the house and by the high wall of her garden. This woman had a few fresh figs, but they were small and not very good.“Send them to the little maid who is sick,” advised her neighbors.“Indeed I’ll send them as soon as my son can get ready to start,” replied the good woman.Now the woman had two sons. One of them was foolish, but the other was considered one of the cleverest youths in the whole countryside. He left home immediately with the best of the figs in his basket.On the way he met a woman dressed in blue with a child in her arms. It was really the Holy Mother and her Child but he did not recognize them.“What are you carrying in your basket?” asked the woman.“I am carrying horns,” replied the clever youth.“Yes, you are carrying horns,” replied the woman.The young man went on to the rich man’s house supposing that he was carrying figs in his basket just as when he started out. The basket had grown heavy.“What have you in your basket?” asked the rich man when he saw the youth at his door.“I have brought some fresh figs from my garden to your daughter who is ill,” replied the clever one.The rich man was delighted. He opened the basket. Then he shook the boy roughly by the collar and pushed him away down the steep steps. There were horns in the basket.“What do you mean by playing such a trick on me?” called the rich man after him. “Never let me see your face in these parts again!”There were still a few of the poorest of the fresh figs remaining on the tree. The foolish son begged his mother for permission to carry them to the little maid who was sick.“Yes. Go with them,” replied his mother. “Who knows but what you may wed the rich man’s daughter!” She laughed as she said it.The boy who was foolish started for the rich man’s house with the figs in his basket. They were only a very few, and poor little things indeed.On the way he met a woman dressed in blue with a child in her arms.“What are you carrying in your basket?” asked the woman.“Fresh figs for a little maid who is sick,” replied the boy.“Yes, you are carrying figs,” said the woman.The boy opened his basket. “Here, take one for the baby,” he said. “He’s a lovely child.”He gave one of the best figs to the baby and went on his way to the rich man’s house.“What have you in your basket?” asked the rich man.“Fresh figs from my garden for your daughter who is sick,” replied the boy.The rich man opened the basket with a scowl upon his face. He well remembered how he had been tricked before. Then his eyes grew wide with surprise.“What, figs like these in January!” he cried in amazement.The figs had grown large and beautiful on the road to the rich man’s house. They filled the whole basket. The little maid was so happy when she saw them that she began to grow better immediately.When her father saw that the youth was foolish, he repented of his promise to give his daughter in marriage to any young man who brought fresh figs to her. However, he had given his word and it was not a thing to be lightly broken.“I’ll tell you what to do to get out of your difficulty,” said his friend to whom he told his trouble. “Turn two lively rabbits out on the mountain and tell the boy that he’ll lose his life if he doesn’t catch them and bring them back at night.”That is exactly what the rich man did. The poor youth tried in vain to catch the rabbits. He got very tired and hot; and, foolish as he was, he knew enough to realize that the task set for him was quite impossible.Suddenly he saw the woman dressed in blue standing before him with the child in her arms.“What is the matter?” she asked him.The boy told her how he would lose his life if he did not catch the rabbits and bring them back to the rich man at nightfall.The woman cut a reed and made a pipe of it.“Play on this pipe,” she said, “and the rabbits will come back to you of their own accord.”“The two rabbits came running up to him.” Illustration by E.L. Brock, published in The Islands of Magic by Elsie Spicer Eells (1922), Harcourt, Brace, and Company.The youth played such sweet music on his pipe that the two rabbits came running up to him immediately. It was all he could do to keep away the other beasts and birds. Everything which heard the music was charmed by it.On his way back to the rich man’s house he met two men who had been sent to kill him. No one had dreamed, of course, that he’d really catch the rabbits. The two men were so surprised when they saw them in the bag that their eyes stuck out. The rich man was even more amazed.As for the little maid who had been sick, when she heard the sweet music which the youth played upon the pipe, she was quite ready to marry him. The wedding was celebrated with great joy.
The Owl is a very wise bird; and once, long ago, when the first oak sprouted in the forest, she called all the other Birds together and said to them, “You see this tiny tree? If you take my advice, you will destroy it now when it is small: for when it grows big, the mistletoe will appear upon it, from which birdlime will be prepared for your destruction.” Again, when the first flax was sown, she said to them, “Go and eat up that seed, for it is the seed of the flax, out of which men will one day make nets to catch you.” Once more, when she saw the first archer, she warned the Birds that he was their deadly enemy, who would wing his arrows with their own feathers and shoot them. But they took no notice of what she said: in fact, they thought she was rather mad, and laughed at her. When, however, everything turned out as she had foretold, they changed their minds and conceived a great respect for her wisdom. Hence, whenever she appears, the Birds attend upon her in the hope of hearing something that may be for their good. She, however, gives them advice no longer, but sits moping and pondering on the folly of her kind.
Many years ago, when King Eyo was ruler of Calabar, the fish used to live on the land; he was a great friend of the leopard, and frequently used to go to his house in the bush, where the leopard entertained him. Now the leopard had a very fine wife, with whom the fish fell in love. And after a time, whenever the leopard was absent in the bush, the fish used to go to his house and make love to the leopard’s wife, until at last an old woman who lived near informed the leopard what happened whenever he went away. At first the leopard would not believe that the fish, who had been his friend for so long, would play such a low trick, but one night he came back unexpectedly, and found the fish and his wife together; at this the leopard was very angry, and was going to kill the fish, but he thought as the fish had been his friend for so long, he would not deal with him himself, but would report his behaviour to King Eyo. This he did, and the king held a big palaver, at which the leopard stated his case quite shortly, but when the fish was put upon his defence he had nothing to say, so the king addressing his subjects said, “This is a very bad case, as the fish has been the leopard’s friend, and has been trusted by him, but the fish has taken advantage of his friend’s absence, and has betrayed him.” The king, therefore, made an order that for the future the fish should live in the water, and that if he ever came on the land he should die; he also said that all men and animals should kill and eat the fish whenever they could catch him, as a punishment for his behaviour with his friend’s wife.
A long time ago there lived a king and queen who had no children, although they both wished very much for a little son. They tried not to let each other see how unhappy they were, and pretended to take pleasure in hunting and hawking and all sorts of other sports; but at length the king could bear it no longer, and declared that he must go and visit the furthest corners of his kingdom, and that it would be many months before he should return to his capital.By that time he hoped he would have so many things to think about that he would have forgotten to trouble about the little son who never came.The country the king reigned over was very large, and full of high, stony mountains and sandy deserts, so that it was not at all easy to go from one place to another. One day the king had wandered out alone, meaning to go only a little distance, but everything looked so alike he could not make out the path by which he had come. He walked on and on for hours, the sun beating hotly on his head, and his legs trembling under him, and he might have died of thirst if he had not suddenly stumbled on a little well, which looked as if it had been newly dug. On the surface floated a silver cup with a golden handle, but as it bobbed about whenever the king tried to seize it, he was too thirsty to wait any longer and knelt down and drank his fill.When he had finished he began to rise from his knees, but somehow his beard seemed to have stuck fast in the water, and with all his efforts he could not pull it out. After two or three jerks to his head, which only hurt him without doing any good, he called out angrily, ‘Let go at once! Who is holding me?’‘It is I, the King Kostiei,’ said a voice from the well, and looking up through the water was a little man with green eyes and a big head. ‘You have drunk from my spring, and I shall not let you go until you promise to give me the most precious thing your palace contains, which was not there when you left it.’Now the only thing that the king much cared for in his palace was the queen herself, and as she was weeping bitterly on a pile of cushions in the great hall when he had ridden away, he knew that Kostiei’s words could not apply to her. So he cheerfully gave the promise asked for by the ugly little man, and in the twinkling of an eye, man, spring, and cup had disappeared, and the king was left kneeling on the dry sand, wondering if it was all a dream. But as he felt much stronger and better he made up his mind that this strange adventure must really have happened, and he sprang on his horse and rode off with a light heart to look for his companions.In a few weeks they began to set out on their return home, which they reached one hot day, eight months after they had all left. The king was greatly beloved by his people, and crowds lined the roads, shouting and waving their hats as the procession passed along. On the steps of the palace stood the queen, with a splendid golden cushion in her arms, and on the cushion the most beautiful boy that ever was seen, wrapped about in a cloud of lace. In a moment Kostiei’s words rushed into the king’s mind, and he began to weep bitterly, to the surprise of everybody, who had expected him nearly to die of joy at the sight of his son. But try as he would and work as hard as he might he could never forget his promise, and every time he let the baby out of his sight he thought that he had seen it for the last time.However, years passed on and the prince grew first into a big boy, and then into a fine young man. Kostiei made no sign, and gradually even the anxious king thought less and less about him, and in the end forgot him altogether.There was no family in the whole kingdom happier than the king and queen and prince, until one day when the youth met a little old man as he was hunting in a lonely part of the woods. ‘How are you my unlooked-for Prince?’ he said. ‘You kept them waiting a good long time!’‘And who are you?’ asked the prince.‘You will know soon enough. When you go home give my compliments to your father and tell him that I wish he would square accounts with me. If he neglects to pay his debts he will bitterly repent it.’So saying the old man disappeared, and the prince returned to the palace and told his father what had happened.The king turned pale and explained to his son the terrible story.‘Do not grieve over it, father,’ answered the prince. ‘It is nothing so dreadful after all! I will find some way to force Kostiei to give up his rights over me. But if I do not come back in a year’s time, you must give up all hopes of ever seeing me.’Then the prince began to prepare for his journey. His father gave him a complete suit of steel armour, a sword, and a horse, while his mother hung round his neck a cross of gold. So, kissing him tenderly, with many tears they let him go.He rode steadily on for three days, and at sunset on the fourth day he found himself on the seashore. On the sand before him lay twelve white dresses, dazzling as the snow, yet as far as his eyes could reach there was no one in sight to whom they could belong. Curious to see what would happen, he took up one of the garments, and leaving his horse loose, to wander about the adjoining fields, he hid himself among some willows and waited. In a few minutes a flock of geese which had been paddling about in the sea approached the shore, and put on the dresses, struck the sand with their feet and were transformed in the twinkling of an eye into eleven beautiful young girls, who flew away as fast as they could. The twelfth and youngest remained in the water, stretching out her long white neck and looking about her anxiously. Suddenly, among the willows, she perceived the king’s son, and called out to him with a human voice:‘Oh Prince, give me back my dress, and I shall be for ever grateful to you.’The prince hastened to lay the dress on the sand, and walked away. When the maiden had thrown off the goose-skin and quickly put on her proper clothes, she came towards him and he saw that none had ever seen or told of such beauty as hers. She blushed and held out her hand, saying to him in a soft voice:‘I thank you, noble Prince, for having granted my request. I am the youngest daughter of Kostiei the immortal, who has twelve daughters and rules over the kingdoms under the earth. Long time my father has waited for you, and great is his anger. But trouble not yourself and fear nothing, only do as I bid you. When you see the King Kostiei, fall straightway upon your knees and heed neither his threats nor his cry, but draw near to him boldly. That which will happen after, you will know in time. Now let us go.’At these words she struck the ground with her foot and a gulf opened, down which they went right into the heart of the earth. In a short time they reached Kostiei’s palace, which gives light, with a light brighter than the sun, to the dark kingdoms below. And the prince, as he had been bidden, entered boldly into the hall.Kostiei, with a shining crown upon his head, sat in the centre upon a golden throne. His green eyes glittered like glass, his hands were as the claws of a crab. When he caught sight of the prince he uttered piercing yells, which shook the walls of the palace. The prince took no notice, but continued his advance on his knees towards the throne. When he had almost reached it, the king broke out into a laugh and said:‘It has been very lucky for you that you have been able to make me laugh. Stay with us in our underground empire, only first you will have to do three things. To-night it is late. Go to sleep; to-morrow I will tell you.’Early the following morning the prince received a message that Kostiei was ready to see him. He got up and dressed, and hastened to the presence chamber, where the little king was seated on his throne. When the prince appeared, bowing low before him, Kostiei began:‘Now, Prince, this is what you have to do. By to-night you must build me a marble palace, with windows of crystal and a roof of gold. It is to stand in the middle of a great park, full of streams and lakes. If you are able to build it you shall be my friend. If not, off with your head.’The prince listened in silence to this startling speech, and then returning to his room set himself to think about the certain death that awaited him. He was quite absorbed in these thoughts, when suddenly a bee flew against the window and tapped, saying, ‘Let me come in.’ He rose and opened the window, and there stood before him the youngest princess.‘What are you dreaming about, Prince?’‘I was dreaming of your father, who has planned my death.’‘Fear nothing. You may sleep in peace, and to-morrow morning when you awake you will find the palace all ready.’What she said, she did. The next morning when the prince left his room he saw before him a palace more beautiful than his fancy had ever pictured. Kostiei for his part could hardly believe his eyes, and pondered deeply how it had got there.‘Well, this time you have certainly won; but you are not going to be let off so easily. To-morrow all my twelve daughters shall stand in a row before you, and if you cannot tell me which of them is the youngest, off goes your head.’‘What! Not recognise the youngest princess!’ said the Prince to himself, as he entered his room, ‘a likely story!’‘It is such a difficult matter that you will never be able to do it without my help,’ replied the bee, who was buzzing about the ceiling. ‘We are all so exactly alike, that even our father scarcely knows the difference between us.’‘Then what must I do?’‘This. The youngest is she who will have a ladybird on her eyelid. Be very careful. Now good-bye.’Next morning King Kostiei again sent for the prince. The young princesses were all drawn up in a row, dressed precisely in the same manner, and with their eyes all cast down. As the prince looked at them, he was amazed at their likeness. Twice he walked along the line, without being able to detect the sign agreed upon. The third time his heart beat fast at the sight of a tiny speck upon the eyelid of one of the girls.‘This one is the youngest,’ he said.‘How in the world did you guess?’ cried Kostiei in a fury. ‘There is some jugglery about it! But you are not going to escape me so easily. In three hours you shall come here and give me another proof of your cleverness. I shall set alight a handful of straw, and before it is burnt up you will have turned it into a pair of boots. If not, off goes your head.’So the prince returned sadly into his room, but the bee was there before him.‘Why do you look so melancholy, my handsome Prince?’‘How can I help looking melancholy when your father has ordered me to make him a pair of boots? Does he take me for a shoemaker?’‘What do you think of doing?’‘Not of making boots, at any rate! I am not afraid of death. One can only die once after all.’‘No, Prince, you shall not die. I will try to save you. And we will fly together or die together.’As she spoke she spat upon the ground, and then drawing the prince after her out of the room, she locked the door behind her and threw away the key. Holding each other tight by the hand, they made their way up into the sunlight, and found themselves by the side of the same sea, while the prince’s horse was still quietly feeding in the neighbouring meadow. The moment he saw his master, the horse whinnied and galloped towards him. Without losing an instant the prince sprang into the saddle, swung the princess behind him, and away they went like an arrow from a bow.When the hour arrived which Kostiei had fixed for the prince’s last trial, and there were no signs of him, the king sent to his room to ask why he delayed so long. The servants, finding the door locked, knocked loudly and received for answer, ‘In one moment.’ It was the spittle, which was imitating the voice of the prince.The answer was taken back to Kostiei. He waited; still no prince. He sent the servants back again, and the same voice replied, ‘Immediately.’‘He is making fun of me!’ shrieked Kostiei in a rage. ‘Break in the door, and bring him to me!’The servants hurried to do his bidding. The door was broken open. Nobody inside; but just the spittle in fits of laughter! Kostiei was beside himself with rage, and commanded his guards to ride after the fugitives. If the guards returned without the fugitives, their heads should pay for it.By this time the prince and princess had got a good start, and were feeling quite happy, when suddenly they heard the sound of a gallop far behind them. The prince sprang from the saddle, and laid his ear to the ground.‘They are pursuing us,’ he said.‘Then there is no time to be lost,’ answered the princess; and as she spoke she changed herself into a river, the prince into a bridge, the horse into a crow, and divided the wide road beyond the bridge into three little ones. When the soldiers came up to the bridge, they paused uncertainly. How were they to know which of the three roads the fugitives had taken? They gave it up in despair and returned in trembling to Kostiei.‘Idiots!’ he exclaimed, in a passion. ‘They were the bridge and the river, of course! Do you mean to say you never thought of that? Go back at once!’ and off they galloped like lightning.But time had been lost, and the prince and princess were far on their way.‘I hear a horse,’ cried the princess.The prince jumped down and laid his ear to the ground.‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they are not far off now.’In an instant prince, princess, and horse had all disappeared, and instead was a dense forest, crossed and recrossed by countless paths. Kostiei’s soldiers dashed hastily into the forest, believing they saw before them the flying horse with its double burden. They seemed close upon them, when suddenly horse, wood, everything disappeared, and they found themselves at the place where they started. There was nothing for it but to return to Kostiei, and tell him of this fresh disaster.‘A horse! a horse!’ cried the king. ‘I will go after them myself. This time they shall not escape.’ And he galloped off, foaming with anger.‘I think I hear someone pursuing us,’ said the princess‘Yes, so do I.’‘And this time it is Kostiei himself. But his power only reaches as far as the first church, and he can go no farther. Give me your golden cross.’ So the prince unfastened the cross which was his mother’s gift, and the princess hastily changed herself into a church, the prince into a priest, and the horse into a belfry.It was hardly done when Kostiei came up.‘Greeting, monk. Have you seen some travellers on horseback pass this way?’‘Yes, the prince and Kostiei’s daughter have just gone by. They have entered the church, and told me to give you their greetings if I met you.’Then Kostiei knew that he had been hopelessly beaten, and the prince and princess continued their journey without any more adventures.
Leelinau was the favorite daughter of a hunter, who lived on the lake shore near the base of the lofty highlands, called Kaug Wudjoo.From her earliest youth she was observed to be thoughtful and retiring. She passed much of her time in solitude, and seemed ever to prefer the companionship of her own shadow to the society of the lodge-circle.Whenever she could leave her father’s lodge she would fly to remote haunts and recesses in the woods, or sit in lonely reverie upon some high promontory of rock overlooking the lake. In such places she would often, with her face turned upward, linger long in contemplation of the air, as if she were invoking her guardian spirit, and beseeching him to lighten her sadness.But amid all the leafy haunts, none drew her steps toward it so often as a forest of pines, on the open shore, called Manitowok, or the Sacred Wood. It was one of those hallowed places which is the resort of the little wild men of the woods, and of the turtle spirits or fairies which delight in romantic scenes. Owing to this circumstance, its green retirement was seldom visited by Indians, who feared to fall under the influence of its mischievous inhabitants.And whenever they were compelled by stress of weather to make a landing on this part of the coast, they never failed to leave an offering of tobacco, or some other token, to show that they desired to stand well with the proprietors of the fairy ground.To this sacred spot Leelinau had made her way at an early age, gathering strange flowers and plants, which she would bring home to her parents, and relate to them all the haps and mishaps that had occurred in her rambles.Although they discountenanced her frequent visits to the place, they were not able to restrain them, for she was of so gentle and delicate a temper that they feared to thwart her.Her attachment to the fairy wood, therefore, grew with her years. If she wished to solicit her spirits to procure pleasant dreams, or any other maiden favor, Leelinau repaired to the Manitowok. If her father remained abroad in the hunt later than usual, and it was feared that he had been overwhelmed by the tempest, or had met with some other mischance, Leelinau offered up her prayers for safety at the Manitowok. It was there that she fasted, mused, and strolled.She at length became so engrossed by the fairy pines that her parents began to suspect that some evil spirit had enticed her to its haunts, and had cast upon her a charm which she had not the power to resist.This belief was confirmed when, one day, her mother, who had secretly followed her, overheard her murmuring to some unknown and invisible companion, appeals like these:“Spirit of the dancing leaves!” whispered Leelinau, “hear a throbbing heart in its sadness. Spirit of the foaming stream! visit thou my nightly pillow, shedding over it silver dreams of mountain brook and pebbly rivulet. Spirit of the starry night! lead my foot-prints to the blushing mis-kodeed, or where the burning passion-flower shines with carmine hue. Spirit of the greenwood plume!” she concluded, turning with passionate gaze to the beautiful young pines which stood waving their green beauty over her head, “shed on me, on Leelinau the sad, thy leafy fragrance, such as spring unfolds from sweetest flowers, or hearts that to each other show their inmost grief. Spirits! hear, O hear a maiden’s prayer!”Day by day, these strange communings with unseen beings drew away the heart of Leelinau more and more from the simple duties of the lodge, and she walked among her people, melancholy and silent, like a spirit who had visited them from another land.The pastimes which engaged the frolic moments of her young companions, passed by her as little trivial pageants in which she had no concern.When the girls of the neighboring lodges assembled to play at the favorite female game of pappus-e-ko-waun, or the block and string, before the lodge-door, Leelinau would sit vacantly by, or enter so feebly into the spirit of the play as to show that it was irksome to her.Again, in the evening, when the young people formed a ring around the lodge, and the piepeend-jigun, or leather and bone, passed rapidly from one to the other, she either handed it along without attempting to play, or if she took a part, it was with no effort to succeed.The time of the corn-gathering had come, and the young people of the tribe were assembled in the field, busy in plucking the ripened maize. One of the girls, noted for her beauty, had found a red ear, and every one congratulated her that a brave admirer was on his way to her father’s lodge. She blushed, and hiding the trophy in her bosom, she thanked the Good Spirit that it was a red ear, and not a crooked, that she had found.Presently it chanced that one who was there among the young men, espied in the hands of Leelinau, who had plucked it indifferently, one of the crooked kind, and at once the word “Wa-ge-min!” was shouted aloud through the field, and the whole circle was set in a roar.“The thief is in the corn-field!” exclaimed the young man, Iagoo by name, and famous in the tribe for his mirthful powers of story-telling; “see you not the old man stooping as he enters the field? See you not signs that he crouched as he crept in the dark? Is it not plain by this mark on the stalk that he was heavily bent in his back? Old man! be nimble, or some one will take thee while thou art taking the ear.”These questions Iagoo accompanied with the action of one bowed with age stealthily entering the corn-field. He went on:“See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear. Nushka! He seems for a moment to tremble. Walker, be nimble! Hooh! It is plain the old man is the thief.”He turned suddenly where she sat in the circle, pensively regarding the crooked ear which she held in her hand, and exclaimed:“Leelinau, the old man is thine!”Laughter rung merrily through the corn-field, but Leelinau, casting down upon the ground the crooked ear of maize, walked pensively away.The next morning the eldest son of a neighboring chief called at her father’s lodge. He was quite advanced in years; but he enjoyed such renown in battle, and his name was so famous in the hunt, that the parents accepted him as a suitor for their daughter. They hoped that his shining qualities would draw back the thoughts of Leelinau from that spirit-land whither she seemed to have wholly directed her affections.It was this chief’s son whom Iagoo had pictured as the corn-taker, but, without objecting to his age, or giving any other reason, Leelinau firmly declined his proposals. The parents ascribed the young daughter’s hesitancy to maiden fear, and paying no further heed to her refusal, a day was fixed for the marriage-visit to the lodge.The young warrior came to the lodge-door, and Leelinau refused to see him; informing her parents, at the same time, that she would never consent to the match.It had been her custom to pass many of her hours in her favorite place of retirement, under a broad-topped young pine, whose leaves whispered in every wind that blew; but most of all in that gentle murmur of the air at the evening hour, dear to lovers, when the twilight steals on.Thither she now repaired, and, while reclining pensively against the young pine-tree, she fancied that she heard a voice addressing her. At first it was scarcely more than a sigh; presently it grew more clear, and she heard it distinctly whisper—“Maiden! think me not a tree; but thine own dear lover; fond to be with thee in my tall and blooming strength, with the bright green nodding plume that waves above thee. Thou art leaning on my breast, Leelinau; lean forever there and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and cruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife, for this quiet, lonely shade. Over thee I my arms will fling, fairer than the lodge’s roof. I will breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest. In my bark canoe I’ll waft thee o’er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I will deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun’s last rays. Come, and on the mountain free rove a fairy bright with me!”Leelinau drunk in with eager ear these magical words. Her heart was fixed. No warrior’s son should clasp her hand. She listened in the hope to hear the airy voice speak more; but it only repeated, “Again! again!” and entirely ceased.On the eve of the day fixed for her marriage, Leelinau decked herself in her best garments. She arranged her hair according to the fashion of her tribe, and put on all of her maiden ornaments in beautiful array. With a smile, she presented herself before her parents.“I am going,” she said, “to meet my little lover, the chieftain of the Green Plume, who is waiting for me at the Spirit Grove.”Her face was radiant with joy, and the parents, taking what she had said as her own fanciful way of expressing acquiescence in their plans, wished her good fortune in the happy meeting.“I am going,” she continued, addressing her mother as they left the lodge, “I am going from one who has watched my infancy and guarded my youth; who has given me medicine when I was sick, and prepared my food when I was well. I am going from a father who has ranged the forest to procure the choicest skins for my dress, and kept his lodge supplied with the best spoil of the chase. I am going from a lodge which has been my shelter from the storms of winter, and my shield from the heats of summer. Farewell, my parents, farewell!”So saying, she sped faster than any could follow her to the margin of the fairy wood, and in a moment was lost to sight.As she had often thus withdrawn herself from the lodge, the parents were not in fear, but confidently awaited her return. Hour chased hour, as the clouds of evening rolled up in the west; darkness came on, but no daughter returned. With torches they hastened to the wood, and although they lit up every dark recess and leafy gloom, their search was in vain. Leelinau was nowhere to be seen. They called aloud, in lament, upon her name, but she answered not.Suns rose and set, but nevermore in their light did the bereaved parents eyes behold the lost form of their beloved child. Their daughter was lost indeed. Whither she had vanished no mortal tongue could tell; although it chanced that a company of fishermen, who were spearing fish near the Spirit Grove, descried something that seemed to resemble a female figure standing on the shore. As the evening was mild and the waters calm, they cautiously pulled their canoe toward land, but the slight ripple of their oars excited alarm. The figure fled in haste, but they could recognize in the shape and dress as she ascended the bank, the lost daughter, and they saw the green plumes of her fairy-lover waving over his forehead as he glided lightly through the forest of young pines.
Hans had served his master for seven years, so he said to him, “Master, my time is up; now I should be glad to go back home to my mother; give me my wages.” The master answered, “You have served me faithfully and honestly; as the service was so shall the reward be;” and he gave Hans a piece of gold as big as his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped up the lump in it, put it on his shoulder, and set out on the way home.As he went on, always putting one foot before the other, he saw a horseman trotting quickly and merrily by on a lively horse. “Ah!” said Hans quite loud, “what a fine thing it is to ride! There you sit as on a chair; you stumble over no stones, you save your shoes, and get on, you don’t know how.”The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, “Hollo! Hans, why do you go on foot, then?”“I must,” answered he, “for I have this lump to carry home; it is true that it is gold, but I cannot hold my head straight for it, and it hurts my shoulder.”“I will tell you what,” said the rider, “we will exchange: I will give you my horse, and you can give me your lump.”“With all my heart,” said Hans, “but I can tell you, you will have to crawl along with it.”The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up; then gave him the bridle tight in his hands and said, “If you want to go at a really good pace, you must click your tongue and call out, “Jup! Jup!”Hans was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought that it ought to go faster, and he began to click with his tongue and call out, “Jup! Jup!” The horse put himself into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch which separated the field from the highway. The horse would have gone off too if it had not been stopped by a countryman, who was coming along the road and driving a cow before him.Hans got his limbs together and stood up on his legs again, but he was vexed, and said to the countryman, “It is a poor joke, this riding, especially when one gets hold of a mare like this, that kicks and throws one off, so that one has a chance of breaking one’s neck. Never again will I mount it. Now I like your cow, for one can walk quietly behind her, and have, over and above, one’s milk, butter and cheese every day without fail. What would I not give to have such a cow.” “Well,” said the countryman, “if it would give you so much pleasure, I do not mind giving the cow for the horse.” Hans agreed with the greatest delight; the countryman jumped upon the horse, and rode quickly away.Hans drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over his lucky bargain. “If only I have a morsel of bread — and that can hardly fail me — I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like; if I am thirsty, I can milk my cow and drink the milk. Good heart, what more can I want?”When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great content ate up what he had with him — his dinner and supper — and all he had, and with his last few farthings had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onwards along the road to his mother’s village.As it drew nearer mid-day, the heat was more oppressive, and Hans found himself upon a moor which it took about an hour to cross. He felt it very hot and his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth with thirst. “I can find a cure for this,” thought Hans; “I will milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk.” He tied her to a withered tree, and as he had no pail he put his leather cap underneath; but try as he would, not a drop of milk came. And as he set himself to work in a clumsy way, the impatient beast at last gave him such a blow on his head with its hind foot, that he fell on the ground, and for a long time could not think where he was.By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road with a wheel-barrow, in which lay a young pig. “What sort of a trick is this?” cried he, and helped the good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened. The butcher gave him his flask and said, “Take a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk, it is an old beast; at the best it is only fit for the plough, or for the butcher.” “Well, well,” said Hans, as he stroked his hair down on his head, “who would have thought it? Certainly it is a fine thing when one can kill a beast like that at home; what meat one has! But I do not care much for beef, it is not juicy enough for me. A young pig like that now is the thing to have, it tastes quite different; and then there are the sausages!”“Hark ye, Hans,” said the butcher, “out of love for you I will exchange, and will let you have the pig for the cow.” “Heaven repay you for your kindness!” said Hans as he gave up the cow, whilst the pig was unbound from the barrow, and the cord by which it was tied was put in his hand.Hans went on, and thought to himself how everything was going just as he wished; if he did meet with any vexation it was immediately set right. Presently there joined him a lad who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They said good morning to each other, and Hans began to tell of his good luck, and how he had always made such good bargains. The boy told him that he was taking the goose to a christening-feast. “Just lift her,” added he, and laid hold of her by the wings; “how heavy she is — she has been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Whoever has a bit of her when she is roasted will have to wipe the fat from both sides of his mouth.” “Yes,” said Hans, as he weighed her in one hand, “she is a good weight, but my pig is no bad one.”Meanwhile the lad looked suspiciously from one side to the other, and shook his head. “Look here,” he said at length, “it may not be all right with your pig. In the village through which I passed, the Mayor himself had just had one stolen out of its sty. I fear — I fear that you have got hold of it there. They have sent out some people and it would be a bad business if they caught you with the pig; at the very least, you would be shut up in the dark hole.”The good Hans was terrified. “Goodness!” he said, “help me out of this fix; you know more about this place than I do, take my pig and leave me your goose.” “I shall risk something at that game,” answered the lad, “but I will not be the cause of your getting into trouble.” So he took the cord in his hand, and drove away the pig quickly along a by-path.The good Hans, free from care, went homewards with the goose under his arm. “When I think over it properly,” said he to himself, “I have even gained by the exchange: first there is the good roast-meat, then the quantity of fat which will drip from it, and which will give me dripping for my bread for a quarter of a year, and lastly the beautiful white feathers; I will have my pillow stuffed with them, and then indeed I shall go to sleep without rocking. How glad my mother will be!”As he was going through the last village, there stood a scissors-grinder with his barrow; as his wheel whirred he sang —“I sharpen scissors and quickly grind,My coat blows out in the wind behind.”Hans stood still and looked at him; at last he spoke to him and said, “All’s well with you, as you are so merry with your grinding.” “Yes,” answered the scissors-grinder, “the trade has a golden foundation. A real grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket finds gold in it. But where did you buy that fine goose?”“I did not buy it, but exchanged my pig for it.”“And the pig?”“That I got for a cow.”“And the cow?”“I took that instead of a horse.”“And the horse?”“For that I gave a lump of gold as big as my head.”“And the gold?”“Well, that was my wages for seven years’ service.”“You have known how to look after yourself each time,” said the grinder. “If you can only get on so far as to hear the money jingle in your pocket whenever you stand up, you will have made your fortune.”“How shall I manage that?” said Hans. “You must be a grinder, as I am; nothing particular is wanted for it but a grindstone, the rest finds itself. I have one here; it is certainly a little worn, but you need not give me anything for it but your goose; will you do it?”“How can you ask?” answered Hans. “I shall be the luckiest fellow on earth; if I have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket, what need I trouble about any longer?” and he handed him the goose and received the grindstone in exchange. “Now,” said the grinder, as he took up an ordinary heavy stone that lay by him, “here is a strong stone for you into the bargain; you can hammer well upon it, and straighten your old nails. Take it with you and keep it carefully.”Hans loaded himself with the stones, and went on with a contented heart; his eyes shone with joy. “I must have been born with a caul,” he cried; “everything I want happens to me just as if I were a Sunday-child.”Meanwhile, as he had been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel tired. Hunger also tormented him, for in his joy at the bargain by which he got the cow he had eaten up all his store of food at once. At last he could only go on with great trouble, and was forced to stop every minute; the stones, too, weighed him down dreadfully. Then he could not help thinking how nice it would be if he had not to carry them just then.He crept like a snail to a well in a field, and there he thought that he would rest and refresh himself with a cool draught of water, but in order that he might not injure the stones in sitting down, he laid them carefully by his side on the edge of the well. Then he sat down on it, and was about to stoop and drink, when he made a slip, pushed against the stones, and both of them fell into the water. When Hans saw them with his own eyes sinking to the bottom, he jumped for joy, and then knelt down, and with tears in his eyes thanked God for having shown him this favour also, and delivered him in so good a way, and without his having any need to reproach himself, from those heavy stones which had been the only things that troubled him.“There is no man under the sun so fortunate as I,” he cried out. With a light heart and free from every burden he now ran on until he was with his mother at home.
Once upon a time there was a young girl who reached the age of thirty-seven without ever having had a lover, for she was so foolish that no one wanted to marry her.One day, however, a young man arrived to pay his addresses to her, and her mother, beaming with joy, sent her daughter down to the cellar to draw a jug of beer.{Listen to The Six Sillies plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for iOS and Android devices}As the girl never came back the mother went down to see what had become of her, and found her sitting on the stairs, her head in her hands, while by her side the beer was running all over the floor, as she had forgotten to close the tap. `What are you doing there?’ asked the mother.`I was thinking what I shall call my first child after I am married to that young man. All the names in the calendar are taken already.’The mother sat down on the staircase beside her daughter and said, `I will think about it with you, my dear.’The father who had stayed upstairs with the young man was surprised that neither his wife nor his daughter came back, and in his turn went down to look for them. He found them both sitting on the stairs, while beside them the beer was running all over the ground from the tap, which was wide open.`What are you doing there? The beer is running all over the cellar.’`We were thinking what we should call the children that our daughter will have when she marries that young man. All the names in the calendar are taken already.’`Well,’ said the father, `I will think about it with you.’As neither mother nor daughter nor father came upstairs again, the lover grew impatient, and went down into the cellar to see what they could all be doing. He found them all three sitting on the stairs, while beside them the beer was running all over the ground from the tap, which was wide open.`What in the world are you all doing that you don’t come upstairs, and that you let the beer run all over the cellar?’`Yes, I know, my boy,’ said the father, `but if you marry our daughter what shall you call your children? All the names in the calendar are taken.’When the young man heard this answer he replied:`Well! good-bye, I am going away. When I shall have found three people sillier than you I will come back and marry your daughter.’So he continued his journey, and after walking a long way he reached an orchard. Then he saw some people knocking down walnuts, and trying to throw them into a cart with a fork.`What are you doing there?’ he asked.`We want to load the cart with our walnuts, but we can’t manage to do it.’The lover advised them to get a basket and to put the walnuts in it, so as to turn them into the cart.`Well,’ he said to himself, `I have already found someone more foolish than those three.’So he went on his way, and by-and-by he came to a wood. There he saw a man who wanted to give his pig some acorns to eat, and was trying with all his might to make him climb up the oak-tree.`What are you doing, my good man?’ asked he.`I want to make my pig eat some acorns, and I can’t get him to go up the tree.’`If you were to climb up and shake down the acorns the pig would pick them up.’`Oh, I never thought of that.’`Here is the second idiot,’ said the lover to himself.Some way farther along the road he came upon a man who had never worn any trousers, and who was trying to put on a pair. So he had fastened them to a tree and was jumping with all his might up in the air so that he should hit the two legs of the trousers as he came down.`It would be much better if you held them in your hands,’ said the young man, `and then put your legs one after the other in each hole.’`Dear me to be sure! You are sharper than I am, for that never occurred to me.’And having found three people more foolish than his bride, or her father or her mother, the lover went back to marry the young lady.And in course of time they had a great many children.
Once seven people went out to make war,—the Ashes, the Fire, the Bladder, the Grasshopper, the Dragon Fly, the Fish, and the Turtle. As they were talking excitedly, waving their fists in violent gestures, a wind came and blew the Ashes away. “Ho!” cried the others, “he could not fight, this one!”The six went on running to make war more quickly. They descended a deep valley, the Fire going foremost until they came to a river. The Fire said “Hsss—tchu!” and was gone. “Ho!” hooted the others, “he could not fight, this one!”Therefore the five went on the more quickly to make war. They came to a great wood. While they were going through it, the Bladder was heard to sneer and to say, “He! you should rise above these, brothers.” With these words he went upward among the tree-tops; and the thorn apple pricked him. He fell through the branches and was nothing! “You see this!” said the four, “this one could not fight.”Still the remaining warriors would not turn back. The four went boldly on to make war. The Grasshopper with his cousin, the Dragon Fly, went foremost. They reached a marshy place, and the mire was very deep. As they waded through the mud, the Grasshopper’s legs stuck, and he pulled them off! He crawled upon a log and wept, “You see me, brothers, I cannot go!”The Dragon Fly went on, weeping for his cousin. He would not be comforted, for he loved his cousin dearly. The more he grieved, the louder he cried, till his body shook with great violence. He blew his red swollen nose with a loud noise so that his head came off his slender neck, and he was fallen upon the grass.“You see how it is,” said the Fish, lashing his tail impatiently, “these people were not warriors!”“Come!” he said, “let us go on to make war.”Thus the Fish and the Turtle came to a large camp ground.“Ho!” exclaimed the people of this round village of teepees, “Who are these little ones? What do they seek?”Neither of the warriors carried weapons with them, and their unimposing stature misled the curious people.The Fish was spokesman. With a peculiar omission of syllables, he said: “Shu… hi pi!”“Wan! what? what?” clamored eager voices of men and women.Again the Fish said: “Shu… hi pi!” Everywhere stood young and old with a palm to an ear. Still no one guessed what the Fish had mumbled!From the bewildered crowd witty old Iktomi came forward. “He, listen!” he shouted, rubbing his mischievous palms together, for where there was any trouble brewing, he was always in the midst of it.“This little strange man says, ‘Zuya unhipi! We come to make war!'”“Uun!” resented the people, suddenly stricken glum. “Let us kill the silly pair! They can do nothing! They do not know the meaning of the phrase. Let us build a fire and boil them both!”“If you put us on to boil,” said the Fish, “there will be trouble.”“Ho ho!” laughed the village folk. “We shall see.”And so they made a fire.“I have never been so angered!” said the Fish. The Turtle in a whispered reply said: “We shall die!”When a pair of strong hands lifted the Fish over the sputtering water, he put his mouth downward. “Whssh!” he said. He blew the water all over the people, so that many were burned and could not see. Screaming with pain, they ran away.“Oh, what shall we do with these dreadful ones?” they said.Others exclaimed: “Let us carry them to the lake of muddy water and drown them!”Instantly they ran with them. They threw the Fish and the Turtle into the lake. Toward the center of the large lake the Turtle dived. There he peeped up out of the water and, waving a hand at the crowd, sang out, “This is where I live!”The Fish swam hither and thither with such frolicsome darts that his back fin made the water fly. “E han!” whooped the Fish, “this is where I live!”“Oh, what have we done!” said the frightened people, “this will be our undoing.”Then a wise chief said: “Iya, the Eater, shall come and swallow the lake!”So one went running. He brought Iya, the Eater; and Iya drank all day at the lake till his belly was like the earth. Then the Fish and the Turtle dived into the mud; and Iya said: “They are not in me.” Hearing this the people cried greatly.Iktomi wading in the lake had been swallowed like a gnat in the water. Within the great Iya he was looking skyward. So deep was the water in the Eater’s stomach that the surface of the swallowed lake almost touched the sky.“I will go that way,” said Iktomi, looking at the concave within arm’s reach.He struck his knife upward in the Eater’s stomach, and the water falling out drowned those people of the village.Now when the great water fell into its own bed, the Fish and the Turtle came to the shore. They went home painted victors and loud-voiced singers.
Of mermen and merwomen many strange stories are told in the Shetland Isles. Beneath the depths of the ocean, according to these stories, an atmosphere exists adapted to the respiratory organs of certain beings, resembling, in form, the human race, possessed of surpassing beauty, of limited supernatural powers, and liable to the incident of death. They dwell in a wide territory of the globe, far below the region of fishes, over which the sea, like the cloudy canopy of our sky, loftily rolls, and they possess habitations constructed of the pearl and coral productions of the ocean. Having lungs not adapted to a watery medium, but to the nature of atmospheric air, it would be impossible for them to pass through the volume of waters that intervenes between the submarine and supramarine world, if it were not for the extraordinary power they inherit of entering the skin of some animal capable of existing in the sea, which they are enabled to occupy by a sort of demoniacal possession. One shape they put on, is that of an animal human above the waist, yet terminating below in the tail and fins of a fish, but the most favourite form is that of the larger seal or Haaf-fish; for, in possessing an amphibious nature, they are enabled not only to exist in the ocean, but to land on some rock, where they frequently lighten themselves of their sea-dress, resume their proper shape, and with much curiosity examine the nature of the upper world belonging to the human race. Unfortunately, however, each merman or merwoman possesses but one skin, enabling the individual to ascend the seas, and if, on visiting the abode of man, the garb be lost, the hapless being must unavoidably become an inhabitant of the earth.A story is told of a boat’s crew who landed for the purpose of attacking the seals lying in the hollows of the crags at one of the stacks. The men stunned a number of the animals, and while they were in this state stripped them of their skins, with the fat attached to them. Leaving the carcasses on the rock, the crew were about to set off for the shore of Papa Stour, when such a tremendous swell arose that every one flew quickly to the boat. All succeeded in entering it except one man, who had imprudently lingered behind. The crew were unwilling to leave a companion to perish on the skerries, but the surge increased so fast, that after many unsuccessful attempts to bring the boat close in to the stack the unfortunate wight was left to his fate. A stormy night came on, and the deserted Shetlander saw no prospect before him but that of perishing from cold and hunger, or of being washed into the sea by the breakers which threatened to dash over the rocks. At length, he perceived many of the seals, who, in their flight had escaped the attack of the boatmen, approach the skerry, disrobe themselves of their amphibious hides, and resume the shape of the sons and daughters of the ocean. Their first object was to assist in the recovery of their friends, who having been stunned by clubs, had, while in that state, been deprived of their skins. When the flayed animals had regained their sensibility, they assumed their proper form of mermen or merwomen, and began to lament in a mournful lay, wildly accompanied by the storm that was raging around, the loss of their sea-dress, which would prevent them from again enjoying their native azure atmosphere, and coral mansions that lay below the deep waters of the Atlantic. But their chief lamentation was for Ollavitinus, the son of Gioga, who, having been stripped of his seal’s skin, would be for ever parted from his mates, and condemned to become an outcast inhabitant of the upper world. Their song was at length broken off, by observing one of their enemies viewing, with shivering limbs and looks of comfortless despair, the wild waves that dashed over the stack. Gioga immediately conceived the idea of rendering subservient to the advantage of the son the perilous situation of the man. She addressed him with mildness, proposing to carry him safe on her back across the sea to Papa Stour, on condition of receiving the seal-skin of Ollavitinus. A bargain was struck, and Gioga clad herself in her amphibious garb; but the Shetlander, alarmed at the sight of the stormy main that he was to ride through, prudently begged leave of the matron, for his better preservation, that he might be allowed to cut a few holes in her shoulders and flanks, in order to procure, between the skin and the flesh, a better fastening for his hands and feet. The request being complied with, the man grasped the neck of the seal, and committing himself to her care, she landed him safely at Acres Gio in Papa Stour; from which place he immediately repaired to a skeo at Hamna Voe, where the skin was deposited, and honourably fulfilled his part of the contract, by affording Gioga the means whereby her son could again revisit the ethereal space over which the sea spread its green mantle.
In olden times the Spider Man lived in the sky-country. He dwelt in a bright little house all by himself, where he weaved webs and long flimsy ladders by which people went back and forth from the sky to the earth. The Star-people often went at night to earth where they roamed about as fairies of light, doing good deeds for women and little children, and they always went back and forth on the ladder of the Spider Man. The Spider Man had to work very hard, weaving his webs, and spinning the yarn from which his ladders were made. One day when he had a short breathing-time from his toil he looked down at the earth-country and there he saw many of the earth-people playing at games, or taking sweet sap from the maple trees, or gathering berries on the rolling hills; but most of the men were lazily idling and doing nothing. The women were all working, after the fashion of Indians in those days; the men were working but little. And Spider Man said to himself, “I should like to go to the earth-country where men idle their time away. I would marry four wives who would work for me while I would take life easy, for I need a rest.”He was very tired of his work for he was kept at it day and night always spinning and weaving his webs. But when he asked for a rest he was not allowed to stop; he was only kicked for his pains and called Sleepy Head, and Lazy-bones and other harsh names, and told to work harder. Then he grew angry and he resolved to punish the Star-people because they kept him so hard at work. He thought that if he punished them and made himself a nuisance, they would be glad to be rid of him. So he hit upon a crafty plan. Each night when a Star-fairy was climbing back to the sky-country, just as he came near the top of the ladder, the Spider Man would cut the strands and the fairy would fall to earth with a great crash. Night after night he did this, and he chuckled to himself as he saw the sky-fairies sprawling through the air and kicking their heels, while the earth-people looked up wonderingly at them and called them Shooting Stars. Many Star-people fell to earth in this way because of the Spider Man’s tricks, and they could never get back to the sky-country because of their broken limbs or their disfigured faces, for in the sky-country the people all must have beautiful faces and forms. But Spider Man’s tricks brought him no good; the people would not drive him away because they needed his webs and he was kept always at his tasks. At last he decided to run away of his own accord, and, one night when the Moon and the Stars had gone to work and the Sun was asleep, he said farewell to the sky-country and let himself down to earth by one of his own strands of yarn, spinning it as he dropped down.In the earth-country he married four wives as he had planned, for he wanted them to work for him while he took his ease. He thought he had worked long enough. All went well for a time and the Spider Man was quite happy living his lazy and contented life. Not a strand did he spin, nor a web did he weave. No men on earth were working; only the women toiled. At last, Glooskap, who ruled upon the earth in that time, became very angry because the men in these parts were so lazy, and he sent Famine into their country to punish them for their sins. Famine came very stealthily into the land and gathered up all the corn and carried it off; then he called to him all the animals, and the birds, and the fish of the sea and river, and he took them away with him. In all the land there was nothing left to eat. Only water remained. The people were very hungry and they lived on water for many days. Sometimes they drank the water cold, sometimes hot, sometimes lukewarm, but at best it was but poor fare. The Spider Man soon grew tired of this strange diet, for it did not satisfy his hunger to live always on water. It filled his belly and swelled him to a great size, but it brought him little nourishment or strength. So he said, “There must be good food somewhere in the world; I will go in search of it.”That night when all the world was asleep he took a large bag, and crept softly away from his four wives and set out on his quest for food. He did not want any one to know where he was going. For several days he traveled, living only on water; but he found no food, and the bag was still empty on his back. At last one day he saw birds in the trees and he knew that he was near the border of the Hunger-Land. That night in the forest when he stopped at a stream to drink, he saw a tiny gleam of light far ahead of him through the trees. He hurried towards the light and soon he came upon a man with a great hump on his shoulders and scars on his face, and a light hanging at his back, with a shade on it which he could close and open at his will.The Spider Man said, “I am looking for food; tell me where I can find it.”And the humped man with the light said, “Do you want it for your people?”But the Spider Man said, “No, I want it for myself.”Then the humped man laughed and said, “You are near to the border of the Land of Plenty; follow me and I will give you food.” Then he flashed the light at his back, opening and closing the shade so that the light flickered, and he set off quickly through the trees.The Spider Man followed the light flashing in the darkness, but he had to go so fast that he was almost out of breath when he reached the house where the humped man had stopped. But the humped man only laughed when he saw the Spider Man coming puffing wearily along with his fat and swollen belly. He gave him a good fat meal and the Spider Man soon felt better after his long fast.Then the humped man said, “You are the Spider Man who once weaved webs in the sky. I, too, once dwelt in the star-country, and one dark night as I was climbing back from the earth-country on your ladder, carrying my lamp on my back to light the way, when I was near the sky you cut the strands of the web and I fell to the earth with a great crash. That is why I have a great hump on my back and scars on my face, and because of this I have never been allowed to go back to the sky-country of the stars. I roam the earth at nights as a forest fairy just as I did in the olden days, for I have my former power still with me, and I still carry my lamp at my back; it is the starlight from the sky-country. I shall never get back to the star-country while I have life. But some day when my work on earth is done I shall go back. But although you were cruel to me I will give you food.” The Spider Man remembered the nights he had cut the ladder strands, and he laughed to himself at the memory of the star-fairies falling to earth with a great crash. But the man with the light knew that now he had his chance to take vengeance on the Spider Man. The latter did not suspect evil. He was glad to get food at last.Then the humped man said, “I will give you four pots. You must not open them until you get home. They will then be filled with food, and thereafter always when you open them they will be packed with good food. And the food will never grow less.”The Spider Man put the four pots in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder he set out for his home, well pleased with his success. After he had gone away, the humped man used his power to make him hungry. Yet for several days he traveled without opening the pots, for although he was almost starving he wished to do as the humped man had told him. At last he could wait no longer. He stopped near his home, took the pots out of the bag and opened them. They were filled with good food as he had been promised. In one was a fine meat stew; in another were many cooked vegetables; in another was bread made from Indian corn; and in another was luscious ripe fruit. He ate until he was full. He covered the pots, put them back in the bag, and hid the bag among the trees. Then he went home. He had meanwhile taken pity on his people and he decided to invite the Chief and all the tribe to a feast the next evening, for the pots would be full, and the food would never decrease, and there would be enough for all. He thought the people would regard him as a very wonderful man if he could supply them all with good food in their hunger.When he reached his home his wives were very glad to see him back, and they at once brought him water, the only food they had. But he laughed them to scorn, and threw the water in their faces and said, “Oh, foolish women, I do not want water; it is not food for a great man like me. I have had a good meal of meat stew and corn bread and cooked vegetables and luscious ripe fruit. I know where much food is to be found, but I alone know. I can find food when all others fail, for I am a great man. Go forth and invite the Chief and all the people to a feast which I shall provide for them to-morrow night—a feast for all the land, for my food never grows less.” They were all amazed when they heard his story, and the thought of his good meal greatly added to their hunger. But they went out and summoned all the tribe to a feast as he had told them.The next night all the people gathered for the feast, for the news of it had spread through all the land. They had taken no water that day, for they wished to eat well, and they were very hungry. They were as hungry as wild beasts in search of food. The Spider Man was very glad because the people praised him, and he proudly brought in his bag of pots. The people all waited hungrily and eagerly. But when he uncovered the first pot there was no food there; he uncovered the second pot, but there was no food there; he uncovered all the pots, but not a bit of food was in any of them. They were all empty, and in the bottom of each was a great gaping hole. Now it had happened in this way.When the humped man, the Star-fairy, had given the pots to the Spider Man, he knew well that the Spider Man would disobey his orders and that he would open the pots before he reached his home. He chuckled to himself, for he knew that now he could take vengeance on the web-weaver who had injured him. So when the Spider Man had left the pots among the trees, the humped man used his magic power and made holes in the pots, and the charm of the food was broken and all the food disappeared. When the people saw the empty pots they thought they had been purposely deceived. The remains of the food and the smell of stew and of fruit still clung to the pots. They thought the Spider Man had eaten all the food himself. So in their great hunger and their rage and their disappointment they fell upon him and beat him and bore him to the ground, while the humped man with the lamp at his back hiding behind the trees looked on and laughed in his glee. Then the people split the Spider Man’s arms to the shoulders, and his legs to the thighs, so that he had eight limbs instead of four.And the humped man—the star-fairy named Fire-fly—came forth from behind the trees and standing over the fallen Spider Man he said, “Henceforth because of your cruelty to the star-people you will always crawl on eight legs, and you will have a fat round belly because of the water you have drunk; and sometimes you will live on top of the water. But you shall always eat only flies and insects. And you will always spin downwards but never upwards, and you will often try to get back to the star-country, but you shall always slip down again on the strand of yarn you have spun.” Then Fire-fly flashed his light and went quickly away, opening and closing the shade of his lamp as he flitted among the trees. And to this day the Spider Man lives as the humped man of the lamp had spoken, because of the cruelty he practiced on the star-fairies in the olden days.
Two orphan children, a boy and a girl, lived alone near the mountains. Their parents had long been dead and the children were left to look after themselves without any kindred upon the earth. The boy hunted all day long and provided much food, and the girl kept the house in order and did the cooking. They had a very deep love for each other and as they grew up they said, “We shall never leave each other. We shall always stay here together.”But one year it happened that in the early spring time it was very cold. The snow lingered on the plains and the ice moved slowly from the rivers and chill winds were always blowing and grey vapors hovered over all the land. And there was very little food to be had, for the animals hid in their warm winter dens and the wild-geese and ducks were still far south. And in this cruel period of bad weather the little girl sickened and died. Her brother worked hard to provide her with nourishing food and he gathered all the medicine roots he thought could bring her relief, but it was all to no purpose. And despite all his efforts, one evening in the twilight his sister went away to the West, leaving him alone behind upon the earth.The boy was heart-broken because of his sister’s death. And when the late spring came and the days grew warm and food was plentiful again, he said, “She must be somewhere in the West, for they say that our people do not really die. I will go and search for her, and perhaps I can find her and bring her back.” So one morning he set out on his strange quest. He journeyed many days westward towards the Great Water, killing game for food as he went, and sleeping at night under the stars. He met many strange people, but he did not tell them the purpose of his travels. At last he came to the shore of the Great Water, and he sat looking towards the sunset wondering what next to do. In the evening an old man came along.“What are you doing here?” asked the man. “I am looking for my sister,” said the boy; “some time ago she became sick and died. I am lonely without her, and I want to find her and bring her back.” And the man said, “Some time ago, she whom you seek passed this way. If you wish to find her you must undertake a dangerous journey.” The boy answered that he would gladly risk any dangers to find his sister, and the old man said, “I will help you. Your sister has gone to the Land of Shadows far away in the Country of Silence, which lies out yonder in the Island of the Blest. To reach the Island you must sail far into the West, but I warn you that it is a perilous journey, for the crossing is always rough and your boat will be tossed by tempests. But you will be well repaid for your trouble, for in that land nobody is ever hungry or tired; there is no death and no sorrow; there are no tears, and no one ever grows old.”Then the old man gave the boy a large pipe and some tobacco and said, “This will help you in your need.” And he brought him to where a small canoe lay dry upon the beach. It was a wonderful canoe, the most beautiful the boy had ever seen. It was cut from a single white stone and it sparkled in the red twilight like a polished jewel. And the old man said, “This canoe will weather all storms. But see that you handle it carefully, and when you come back see that you leave it in the cove where you found it.”Soon afterwards, the boy set out on his journey. The moon was full and the night was cold with stars. He sailed into the West over a rough and angry sea, but he was in no danger, for his canoe rode easily on the waters. All around him he saw in the moonlight many other canoes going in the same direction and all white and shining like his own. But no one seemed to be guiding them, and although he looked long at them not a person could he make out. He wondered if the canoes were drifting unoccupied, for when he called to them there was no answer. Sometimes a canoe upset in the tossing sea and the waves rose over it and it was seen no more, and the boy often thought he heard an anguished cry. For several days he sailed on to the West, and all the time other canoes were not far away, and all the time some of them were dropping from sight beneath the surging waters, but he saw no people in them.At last, after a long journey, the sea grew calm and the air was sweet and warm. There was no trace of the storm, for the waves were quiet and the sky was as clear as crystal. He saw that he was near the Island of the Blest of which the old man had spoken, for it was now plain to his view, as it rose above the ocean, topped with green grass and trees, and a snow-white beach. Soon he reached the shore and drew up his canoe. As he turned away, he came upon a skeleton lying flat upon the sand. He stopped to look at it, and as he did so, the skeleton sat up and said in great surprise, “You should not be here. Why have you come?”And the boy said, “I seek my sister. In the early springtime she  became sick and died, and I am going to the Land of Shadows in the Country of Silence in search of her.” “You must go far inland,” said the skeleton, “and the way is hard to find for such as you.” The boy asked for guidance and the skeleton said, “Let me smoke and I will help you.” The boy gave him the pipe and the tobacco he had received from the old man, and he laughed when he saw his strange companion with the pipe between his teeth. The skeleton smoked for some time and at last, as the smoke rose from his pipe, it changed to a flock of little white birds, which flew about like doves. The boy looked on in wonder, and the skeleton said, “These birds will guide you. Follow them.” Then he gave back the pipe and stretched out again flat upon the sand, and the boy could not rouse him from his sleep.The boy followed the little white birds as he had been told. He went along through a land of great beauty where flowers were blooming and countless birds were singing. Not a person did he meet on the way. The place was deserted except for the song-birds and the flowers. He passed through the Country of Silence, and came to a mysterious land where no one dwelt. But although he saw no one he heard many voices and he could not tell whence they came. They seemed to be all around him. At last the birds stopped at the entrance to a great garden, and flew around his head in a circle. They would go no further and they alighted on a tree close by, all except one, which perched on the boy’s shoulder. The lad knew that here at last was the Land of Shadows.When he entered the garden he heard again many low voices. But he saw no one. He saw only many shadows of people on the grass, but he could not see from what the shadows came. He wondered greatly at the strange and unusual sight, for back in his homeland in that time the sunlight made no shadows. He listened again to the voices and he knew now that the shadows were speaking. He wandered about for some time marvelling greatly at the strange place with its weird unearthly beauty. At last he heard a voice which he knew to be his sister’s. It was soft and sweet, just as he had known it when they were together on the earth, and it had not changed since she left him.He went to the shadow from which the voice came, and throwing himself on the grass beside it, he said, “I have long sought you, my sister. I have come to take you home. Let me see you as you were when we dwelt together.” But his sister said, “You have done wisely to keep me in your memory, and to seek to find me. But here we cannot appear to the people of earth except as shadows. I cannot go back with you, for it is now too late. I have eaten of the food of this land; if you had come before I had eaten, perhaps you could have taken me away. Who knows? But my heart and my voice are unchanged, and I still remember my dear ones, and with unaltered love I still watch my old home. And although I cannot go to you, you can some day come to me. First, you must finish your work on earth. Go back to your home in the Earth Country. You will become a great Chief among your people. Rule wisely and justly and well, and give freely of your food to the poor among the Indians who do not have as much as you have. And when your work on earth is done, you shall come to me in this Land of Shadows beyond the Country of Silence, and we shall be together again and our youth and strength and beauty will never leave us.”And the boy, wondering greatly and in deep sorrow, said, “Let me stay with you now.” But his sister said, “That cannot be.” Then she said, “I will give you a Shadow, which you must keep with you as your guardian spirit. And while you have it with you, no harm can come to you, for it will be present only in the Light, and where there is Light, there can be no wickedness. But when it disappears you must be on your guard against doing evil, for then there will be darkness, and darkness may lead you to wrong.”So the boy took the Shadow, and said good-bye for a season and set out on his homeward journey. The little white birds, which had waited for him in the trees, guided him back to the beach. His canoe was still there, but the skeleton-man had gone and there was not a trace of him to be found upon the sand. And the Island of the Blest was silent except for the songs of the birds and the ripple of the little streams. The boy embarked in his canoe and sailed towards the east, and as he pushed off from the beach the little white birds left him and disappeared in the air. The sea was now calm and there was no storm, as there had been on his outward journey. Soon he reached the shore on the other side. He left his canoe in the cove as the old man had told him, and in a few days he arrived at his home, still bearing the Shadow from the Country of Silence.He worked hard for many years but he did no evil, and in the end he became a great Chief and did much good for his people. He ruled wisely and justly and well, as his sister had commanded him. Then one day, when he was old and his work was done, he disappeared, and his people knew that he had gone to join his sister in the Land of Shadows in the Country of Silence far away somewhere in the West. But he left behind him the Shadow his sister had given him; and while there is Light, the Indians still have their Shadow and no harm can come to them, for where there is Light, there can be no evil.But always in the late autumn the Shadows of the Indian brother and sister in the Country of Silence are lonely for their former life. And they think of their living friends and of the places of their youth, and they wish once more to follow the hunt, for they know that the hunter’s moon is shining. And when their memory dwells with longing on their earlier days, their spirits are allowed to come back to earth for a brief season from the Land of Shadows. Then the winds are silent and the days are very still, and the smoke of their camp fires appears like haze upon the air. And men call this season Indian Summer, but it is really but a Shadow of the golden summer that has gone. And it always is a reminder to the Indians that in the Land of Shadows, far away in the Country of Silence in the West, there are no dead.
One day the Countrymen noticed that the Mountains were in labour; smoke came out of their summits, the earth was quaking at their feet, trees were crashing, and huge rocks were tumbling. They felt sure that something horrible was going to happen. They all gathered together in one place to see what terrible thing this could be.They waited and they waited, but nothing came. At last there was a still more violent earthquake, and a huge gap appeared in the side of the Mountains. They all fell down upon their knees and waited. At last, and at last, a teeny, tiny mouse poked its little head and bristles out of the gap and came running down towards them, and ever after they used to say: “Much outcry, little outcome.”
The little Eskimo away up in the northern part of British America has a pretty hard time of it, as you may know when you think how cold it is there.He is born in a snow hut, and when he is but a few hours old he is carried on his mother’s back out upon the ice, and around and around in circles and after a while through deep snow back to the hut. If that does not kill him, the names he gets are enough to do it; for he is given the names of all the people who have died in the village since the last baby was born. He sometimes has a string of names long enough to weigh any baby down. Worse than that, if one of his relatives dies before he is four years old, that name is added to the rest and is the one by which he is called.Worse still, if he falls sick he is given a dog’s name, so that the goddess Sedna will look kindly upon him. Then, all his life, he must wear a dog’s harness over his inner jacket. If he should die, his mother must rush out of the house with him at once. If she does not do so, everything in the house must be thrown away or destroyed, just as is done when a grown person dies in a furnished house.For a whole year his mother must wear a cap if she steps outside her door, and she must carry his boots about with her. After three days she goes to his tomb and walks around it three times, going around to the left, because that is the way the sun travels. While she walks, she talks to the dead child and promises to bring him food. A year after his death she must do this again, and she must do the same thing whenever she happens to pass near the grave.Now we shall tell you some of the tales which the Eskimo mothers relate to their children. The first one is about Kiviung, the Rip Van Winkle of the Eskimos.
It was the custom with Fin MacCumhail and the Fenians of Erin, when a stranger from any part of the world came to their castle, not to ask him a question for a year and a day.On a time, a champion came to Fin and his men, and remained with them. He was not at all pleasant or agreeable.At last Fin and his men took counsel together; they were much annoyed because their guest was so dull and morose, never saying a word, always silent.While discussing what kind of man he was, Diarmuid Duivne offered to try him; so one evening when they were eating together, Diarmuid came and snatched from his mouth the hind-quarter of a bullock, which he was picking.Diarmuid pulled at one part of the quarter,—pulled with all his strength, but only took the part that he seized, while the other kept the part he held. All laughed; the stranger laughed too, as heartily as any. It was the first laugh they had heard from him.The strange champion saw all their feats of arms and practised with them, till the year and a day were over. Then he said to Fin and his men:“I have spent a pleasant year in your company; you gave me good treatment, and the least I can do now is to give you a feast at my own castle.”No one had asked what his name was up to that time. Fin now asked his name. He answered: “My name is Fear Dubh, of Alba.”Fin accepted the invitation; and they appointed the day for the feast, which was to be in Erin, since Fear Dubh did not wish to trouble them to go to Alban. He took leave of his host and started for home.When the day for the feast came, Fin and the chief men of the Fenians of Erin set out for the castle of Fear Dubh.They went, a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and thirty-two miles at a running leap, till they came to the grand castle where the feast was to be given.They went in; everything was ready, seats at the table, and every man’s name at his seat in the same order as at Fin’s castle. Diarmuid, who was always very sportive,—fond of hunting, and paying court to women, was not with them; he had gone to the mountains with his dogs.All sat down, except Conan Maol MacMorna (never a man spoke well of him); no seat was ready for him, for he used to lie on the flat of his back on the floor, at Fin’s castle.When all were seated the door of the castle closed of itself. Fin then asked the man nearest the door, to rise and open it. The man tried to rise; he pulled this way and that, over and hither, but he couldn’t get up. Then the next man tried, and the next, and so on, till the turn came to Fin himself, who tried in vain.Now, whenever Fin and his men were in trouble and great danger it was their custom to raise a cry of distress (a voice of howling), heard all over Erin. Then all men knew that they were in peril of death; for they never raised this cry except in the last extremity.Fin’s son, Fialan, who was three years old and in the cradle, heard the cry, was roused, and jumped up.“Get me a sword!” said he to the nurse. “My father and his men are in distress; I must go to aid them.”“What could you do, poor little child.”Fialan looked around, saw an old rusty sword-blade laid aside for ages. He took it down, gave it a snap; it sprang up so as to hit his arm, and all the rust dropped off; the blade was pure as shining silver.“This will do,” said he; and then he set out towards the place where he heard the cry, going a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and thirty-two miles at a running leap, till he came to the door of the castle, and cried out.Fin answered from inside, “Is that you, my child?”“It is,” said Fialan.“Why did you come?”“I heard your cry, and how could I stay at home, hearing the cry of my father and the Fenians of Erin!”“Oh, my child, you cannot help us much.”Fialan struck the door powerfully with his sword, but no use. Then, one of the men inside asked Fin to chew his thumb, to know what was keeping them in, and why they were bound.Fin chewed his thumb, from skin to blood, from blood to bone, from bone to marrow, and discovered that Fear Dubh had built the castle by magic, and that he was coming himself with a great force to cut the head off each one of them. (These men from Alba had always a grudge against the champions of Erin.)Said Fin to Fialan: “Do you go now, and stand at the ford near the castle, and meet Fear Dubh.”Fialan went and stood in the middle of the ford. He wasn’t long there when he saw Fear Dubh coming with a great army.“Leave the ford, my child,” said Fear Dubh, who knew him at once. “I have not come to harm your father. I spent a pleasant year at his castle. I’ve only come to show him honor.”“I know why you have come,” answered Fialan. “You’ve come to destroy my father and all his men, and I’ll not leave this ford while I can hold it.”“Leave the ford; I don’t want to harm your father, I want to do him honor. If you don’t let us pass my men will kill you,” said Fear Dubh.“I will not let you pass so long as I’m alive before you,” said Fialan.The men faced him; and if they did Fialan kept his place, and a battle commenced, the like of which was never seen before that day. Fialan went through the army as a hawk through a flock of sparrows on a March morning, till he killed every man except Fear Dubh. Fear Dubh told him again to leave the ford, he didn’t want to harm his father.“Oh!” said Fialan, “I know well what you want.”“If you don’t leave that place I’ll make you leave it!” said Fear Dubh. Then they closed in combat; and such a combat was never seen before between any two warriors. They made springs to rise through the centre of hard gray rocks, cows to cast their calves whether they had them or not. All the horses of the country were racing about and neighing in dread and fear, and all created things were terrified at the sound and clamor of the fight, till the weapons of Fear Dubh went to pieces in the struggle, and Fialan made two halves of his own sword.Now they closed in wrestling. In the first round Fialan put Fear Dubh to his knees in the hard bottom of the river; the second round he put him to his hips, and the third, to his shoulders.“Now,” said he, “I have you,” giving him a stroke of the half of his sword, which cut the head off him.Then Fialan went to the door of the castle and told his father what he had done.Fin chewed his thumb again, and knew what other danger was coming. “My son,” said he to Fialan, “Fear Dubh has a younger brother more powerful than he was; that brother is coming against us now with greater forces than those which you have destroyed.”As soon as Fialan heard these words he hurried to the ford, and waited till the second army came up. He destroyed this army as he had the other, and closed with the second brother in a fight fiercer and more terrible than the first; but at last he thrust him to his armpits in the hard bottom of the river and cut off his head.Then he went to the castle, and told his father what he had done. A third time Fin chewed his thumb, and said: “My son, a third army more to be dreaded than the other two is coming now to destroy us, and at the head of it is the youngest brother of Fear Dubh, the most desperate and powerful of the three.”Again Fialan rushed off to the ford; and, though the work was greater than before, he left not a man of the army alive. Then he closed with the youngest brother of Fear Dubh, and if the first and second battles were terrible this was more terrible by far; but at last he planted the youngest brother up to his armpits in the hard bottom of the river, and swept the head off him.Now, after the heat and struggle of combat Fialan was in such a rage that he lost his mind from fury, not having any one to fight against; and if the whole world had been there before him he would have gone through it and conquered it all.But having no one to face him he rushed along the river-bank, tearing the flesh from his own body. Never had such madness been seen in any created being before that day.Diarmuid came now and knocked at the door of the castle, having the dog Bran with him, and asked Fin what had caused him to raise the cry of distress.“Oh, Diarmuid,” said Fin, “we are all fastened in here to be killed. Fialan has destroyed three armies, and Fear Dubh with his two brothers. He is raging now along the bank of the river; you must not go near him, for he would tear you limb from limb. At this moment he wouldn’t spare me, his own father; but after a while he will cease from raging and die down; then you can go. The mother of Fear Dubh is coming, and will soon be at the ford. She is more violent, more venomous, more to be dreaded, a greater warrior than her sons. The chief weapon she has are the nails on her fingers; each nail is seven perches long, of the hardest steel on earth. She is coming in the air at this moment with the speed of a hawk, and she has a kŭŕan (a small vessel), with liquor in it, which has such power that if she puts three drops of it on the mouths of her sons they will rise up as well as ever; and if she brings them to life there is nothing to save us.“Go to the ford; she will be hovering over the corpses of the three armies to know can she find her sons, and as soon as she sees them she will dart down and give them the liquor. You must rise with a mighty bound upon her, dash the kŭŕan out of her hand and spill the liquor.“If you can kill her save her blood, for nothing in the world can free us from this place and open the door of the castle but the blood of the old hag. I’m in dread you’ll not succeed, for she is far more terrible than all her sons together. Go now; Fialan is dying away, and the old woman is coming; make no delay.”Diarmuid hurried to the ford, stood watching a while; then he saw high in the air something no larger than a hawk. As it came nearer and nearer he saw it was the old woman. She hovered high in the air over the ford. At last she saw her sons, and was swooping down, when Diarmuid rose with a bound into the air and struck the vial a league out of her hand.The old hag gave a shriek that was heard to the eastern world, and screamed: “Who has dared to interfere with me or my sons?”“I,” answered Diarmuid; “and you’ll not go further till I do to you what has been done to your sons.”The fight began; and if there ever was a fight, before or since, it could not be more terrible than this one; but great as was the power of Diarmuid he never could have conquered but for Bran the dog.The old woman with her nails stripped the skin and flesh from Diarmuid almost to the vitals. But Bran tore the skin and flesh off the old woman’s back from her head to her heels.From the dint of blood-loss and fighting, Diarmuid was growing faint. Despair came on him, and he was on the point of giving way, when a little robin flew near to him, and sitting on a bush, spoke, saying:“Oh, Diarmuid, take strength; rise and sweep the head off the old hag, or Fin and the Fenians of Erin are no more.”Diarmuid took courage, and with his last strength made one great effort, swept the head off the old hag and caught her blood in a vessel. He rubbed some on his own wounds,—they were cured; then he cured Bran.Straightway he took the blood to the castle, rubbed drops of it on the door, which opened, and he went in.All laughed with joy at the rescue. He freed Fin and his men by rubbing the blood on the chairs; but when he came as far as Conan Maol the blood gave out.All were going away. “Why should you leave me here after you;” cried Conan Maol, “I would rather die at once than stay here for a lingering death. Why don’t you, Oscar, and you, Gol MacMorna, come and tear me out of this place; anyhow you’ll be able to drag the arms out of me and kill me at once; better that than leave me to die alone.”Oscar and Gol took each a hand, braced their feet against his feet, put forth all their strength and brought him standing; but if they did, he left all the skin and much of the flesh from the back of his head to his heels on the floor behind him. He was covered with blood, and by all accounts was in a terrible condition, bleeding and wounded.Now there were sheep grazing near the castle. The Fenians ran out, killed and skinned the largest and best of the flock, and clapped the fresh skin on Conan’s back; and such was the healing power in the sheep, and the wound very fresh, that Conan’s back healed, and he marched home with the rest of the men, and soon got well; and if he did, they sheared off his back wool enough every year to make a pair of stockings for each one of the Fenians of Erin, and for Fin himself.And that was a great thing to do and useful, for wool was scarce in Erin in those days. Fin and his men lived pleasantly and joyously for some time; and if they didn’t, may we.
Once on a time there was a man up in Finnmark who had caught a great white bear, which he was going to take to the King of Denmark. Now, it so fell out, that he came to the Dovrefell just about Christmas Eve, and there he turned into a cottage where a man lived, whose name was Halvor, and asked the man if he could get house-room there for his bear and himself.“Heaven never help me, if what I say isn’t true!” said the man; “but we can’t give anyone house-room just now, for every Christmas Eve such a pack of Trolls come down upon us, that we are forced to flit, and haven’t so much as a house over our own heads, to say nothing of lending one to anyone else.”{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Christmas fairy tales, in our collection Christmas Tales: The Night Before Christmas and 21 Other Illustrated Christmas Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle}“Oh?” said the man, “if that’s all, you can very well lend me your house; my bear can lie under the stove yonder, and I can sleep in the side-room.”Well, he begged so hard, that at last he got leave to stay there; so the people of the house flitted out, and before they went, everything was got ready for the Trolls; the tables were laid, and there was rice porridge, and fish boiled in lye, and sausages, and all else that was good, just as for any other grand feast.So, when everything was ready, down came the Trolls. Some were great, and some were small; some had long tails, and some had no tails at all; some, too, had long, long noses; and they ate and drank, and tasted everything. Just then one of the little Trolls caught sight of the white bear, who lay under the stove; so he took a piece of sausage and stuck it on a fork, and went and poked it up against the bear’s nose, screaming out:“Pussy, will you have some sausage?”Then the white bear rose up and growled, and hunted the whole pack of them out of doors, both great and small.Next year Halvor was out in the wood, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, cutting wood before the holidays, for he thought the Trolls would come again; and just as he was hard at work, he heard a voice in the wood calling out:“Halvor! Halvor!”“Well,” said Halvor, “here I am.”“Have you got your big cat with you still?”“Yes, that I have,” said Halvor; “she’s lying at home under the stove, and what’s more, she has now got seven kittens, far bigger and fiercer than she is herself.”“Oh, then, we’ll never come to see you again,” bawled out the Troll away in the wood, and he kept his word; for since that time the Trolls have never eaten their Christmas brose with Halvor on the Dovrefell.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Christmas fairy tales, in our collection Christmas Tales: The Night Before Christmas and 21 Other Christmas Stories, now available for Amazon Kindle.}
A cobbler was busying himself on Saturday with mending old shoes, that he might be able to go to church on Sunday. He worked till late in the evening, and, having finished his work, early in the morning dressed himself, and took his book to service. In church he heard this doctrine, that if any one dedicates his property to the church, God will recompense him a hundredfold in another form. And as he was poor, he therefore determined to sell his cottage and goods and take the whole price to the priest at the church. He went home and told his wife of his intentions; and in a few days the money was in the hands of the parson.But day passed after day, and nothing was to be seen of a recompense. At last, when hunger sorely tried the cobbler, he dressed himself like an old beggar and went to seek for the Lord God. After wandering a couple of days he met with an old shepherd, who was pasturing a large flock of lambs. And as he was very hungry, he made up his mind to go up to the old shepherd, and ask him to give him a little to eat out of his dinner-basket.  During the meal he related all that he had done, and how it was then going with him.The old shepherd compassionated the poor cobbler, and gave him a lamb, which scattered ducats at every call: ‘Lamb, shake yourself!’ but gave it him under the condition, that in one village, through which he was obliged to pass, he was not to enter the house of his old gossip. He laid the lamb on his shoulder with great joy, thanked the old man for it, and started with speed on his way home to rejoice his wife and children. When he got behind the hill, he began to distrust the words of the old shepherd, for he could not get it into his head that an ordinary lamb would scatter ducats. Wishing, therefore, to assure himself of their truth, he placed the lamb on the ground and uttered the old man’s words: ‘Lamb, shake yourself!’ and when at the selfsame moment he espied ducats round the lamb’s feet, he considered himself the most fortunate man in the whole world.Without delay he put the lamb on his back, and went on towards home. But when he went past his gossip’s tavern, she besought him to pay her a visit, for they had not seen each other for a very long time. The cobbler at first hesitated a little, but wishing to show that he had ducats in his pocket, and that he had met with such good fortune, he went into the tavern; and, after first giving into her charge his present from the old man, with these words, But don’t say to him, “Lamb, shake yourself!’ went to the table and drank off a noggin of brandy. But his gossip, a knavish old woman, bethought herself at once that there must be some secret lying in these words. She, therefore, took the lamb into another room, and when she was there by herself, said to the lamb: ‘Lamb, shake yourself!’ when she saw that he scattered ducats she began to consider how to cheat her gossip.After a short time she determined to make the cobbler drunk, to detain him all night at her house, and next day, early, to give him instead of his lamb another like it out of her own flock; which was effected according to her intention. Well, early in the morning the cobbler took the lamb on his shoulder and now hastened straight to his wife and children, and tossed them, as they wept, a couple of ducats, that his wife might get a good meal ready. His wife could not wonder enough whence her little husband had got so much money, but she did not venture to question him. After the meal the cobbler put the lamb on the table, called his children, that they might enjoy with him the rolling ducats, and shouted: ‘Lamb, shake yourself!’ But the lamb stood as if he were made of wood, and never even moved his head. The children, who had eaten their fill, began to laugh, and the wife thought that her husband was not quite right in his head. The cobbler, angry that his wish had not come to pass, repeated once more the old man’s words, but this time, too, without effect, therefore he pushed the lamb off the table. So long as the ducats held out, there was content in the home; but as soon as they began to run short in the cottage, his wife began to reproach her husband for doing no work, and not troubling himself about a livelihood.So nothing again remained for the cobbler but, stick in hand, to go to look for the old man. He knew very well what a bad welcome he would receive from him, but what was to be done? However, the old man had compassion on the poor family, and this time gave him a tablecloth, which at every summons: ‘Tablecloth, spread yourself!’ spread itself of its own accord, and on it stood most excellent food and drink; but under the condition that he didn’t go into his gossip’s house. The cobbler, well content with the present, thanked the old man and moved towards home. In a short time he was behind the hill, sat down upon the ground, and, not from curiosity but from hunger, gave the word of command to the tablecloth to spread itself; for his inside was croaking.When, after eating his fill, he went past the tavern, his old gossip was waiting for him in front of the door; she begged him in the kindest terms not to pass her tavern, adding the proverb: ‘Whoever passes a tavern sprains his foot.’ The cobbler wavered long, but at last went in and entrusted her with the table-cloth with these words: ‘Dear gossip, don’t say, “Table-cloth, spread yourself!”‘The crafty woman gave him brandy in welcome, not for money; therefore, her gossip tossed off noggin after noggin, till there came a dizziness in his head. Then his gossip did the same with the tablecloth as with the lamb. The cobbler came to his wife and children, placed the tablecloth on the table and cried: ‘Tablecloth, spread yourself!’ But the tablecloth didn’t stir, and the cobbler began to despair and to revile the old woman, his gossip. He returned again to the old man, begged pardon of him on his knees for not fulfilling the condition that time also, and prayed him, nevertheless, to have compassion on him and to be his preserver once more. The old man for a long time refused, but at last gave him a cudgel with a silver mounting set with precious stones, and ordered him this time to visit his gossip, and take note of these words: ‘Cudgel, bestir yourself!’ The cobbler, seized with new joy, thanked the old man a hundred times, and made the more haste towards his wife and children. Still, when behind the hill, he was curious to know what the cudgel meant, and wishing to satisfy himself, said: ‘Cudgel, bestir yourself!’In a moment there stood before him a couple of stout fellows, who began to thrash him mercilessly. The cobbler, seized by cruel terror, did not know how to order them to cease beating him; at last, when already well beaten, he cried out: ‘Cudgel, leave off!’ Instantly the fellows disappeared and the cudgel stood before him. ‘You’re good, you’re good!’ said the cobbler, getting up from the ground, ‘you’ll help me to those former gifts.’When he arrived at the village, where his gossip lived, he stepped into her house and made himself at home as with an old acquaintance. She was very glad to see him, for she thought she would again make a good profit, entertained him well, and afterwards began to inquire whether he hadn’t something for her to take charge of. Then the cobbler gave up to her his cudgel with the request not to say: ‘Cudgel, bestir yourself!’ The old woman laughed in her sleeve at the simpleton, thinking to herself, He wouldn’t tell me without cause what I’m not to say!’ She went at once with the cudgel into the other room, and scarcely had she crossed the threshold, when she cried out impatiently: ‘Cudgel, bestir yourself!’ Immediately the two fellows with cudgels began to beat her, and she lost all self-possession. At her piercing shrieks the host darted up to help her, when, hey ho! he got it too.The cobbler all the time kept calling out: ‘Go it, cudgel! go it! till they give me back my lamb and my tablecloth!’ Then nothing remained to his gossip but to give up his property to him. She ordered the lamb and tablecloth to be brought. As soon as the cobbler had satisfied himself that this was really done, he shouted ‘Cudgel, leave off!’ and went with the three gifts as quick as he could to his wife and children. Then there was great joy, for they had money and victuals in abundance; and did not withal forget God and other people, but assisted every poor person.
In the days when wishing was still of some use, a King’s son was bewitched by an old witch, and shut up in an iron stove in a forest. There he passed many years, and no one could deliver him. Then a King’s daughter came into the forest, who had lost herself, and could not find her father’s kingdom again. After she had wandered about for nine days, she at length came to the iron stove. Then a voice came forth from it, and asked her, “Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou?” She answered, “I have lost my father’s kingdom, and cannot get home again.” Then a voice inside the iron stove said, “I will help thee to get home again, and that indeed most swiftly, if thou wilt promise to do what I desire of thee. I am the son of a far greater King than thy father, and I will marry thee.”Then was she afraid, and thought, “Good Heavens! What can I do with an iron stove?” But as she much wished to get home to her father, she promised to do as he desired. But he said, “Thou shalt return here, and bring a knife with thee, and scrape a hole in the iron.” Then he gave her a companion who walked near her, but did not speak, but in two hours he took her home; there was great joy in the castle when the King’s daughter came home, and the old King fell on her neck and kissed her. She, however, was sorely troubled, and said, “Dear father, what I have suffered! I should never have got home again from the great wild forest, if I had not come to an iron stove, but I have been forced to give my word that I will go back to it, set it free, and marry it.” Then the old King was so terrified that he all but fainted, for he had but this one daughter. They therefore resolved they would send, in her place, the miller’s daughter, who was very beautiful. They took her there, gave her a knife, and said she was to scrape at the iron stove. So she scraped at it for four-and-twenty hours, but could not bring off the least morsel of it. When day dawned, a voice in the stove said, “It seems to me it is day outside.” Then she answered, “It seems so to me too; I fancy I hear the noise of my father’s mill.”“So thou art a miller’s daughter! Then go thy way at once, and let the King’s daughter come here.” Then she went away at once, and told the old King that the man outside there, would have none of her—he wanted the King’s daughter. They, however, still had a swine-herd’s daughter, who was even prettier than the miller’s daughter, and they determined to give her a piece of gold to go to the iron stove instead of the King’s daughter. So she was taken thither, and she also had to scrape for four-and-twenty hours. She, however, made nothing of it. When day broke, a voice inside the stove cried, “It seems to me it is day outside!” Then answered she, “So it seems to me also; I fancy I hear my father’s horn blowing.”“Then thou art a swine-herd’s daughter! Go away at once, and tell the King’s daughter to come, and tell her all must be done as was promised, and if she does not come, everything in the kingdom shall be ruined and destroyed, and not one stone be left standing on another.” When the King’s daughter heard that she began to weep, but now there was nothing for it but to keep her promise. So she took leave of her father, put a knife in her pocket, and went forth to the iron stove in the forest. When she got there, she began to scrape, and the iron gave way, and when two hours were over, she had already scraped a small hole. Then she peeped in, and saw a youth so handsome, and so brilliant with gold and with precious jewels, that her very soul was delighted. Now, therefore, she went on scraping, and made the hole so large that he was able to get out. Then said he, “Thou art mine, and I am thine; thou art my bride, and hast released me.” He wanted to take her away with him to his kingdom, but she entreated him to let her go once again to her father, and the King’s son allowed her to do so, but she was not to say more to her father than three words, and then she was to come back again. So she went home, but she spoke more than three words, and instantly the iron stove disappeared, and was taken far away over glass mountains and piercing swords; but the King’s son was set free, and no longer shut up in it. After this she bade good-bye to her father, took some money with her, but not much, and went back to the great forest, and looked for the iron stove, but it was nowhere to be found. For nine days she sought it, and then her hunger grew so great that she did not know what to do, for she could no longer live. When it was evening, she seated herself in a small tree, and made up her mind to spend the night there, as she was afraid of wild beasts. When midnight drew near she saw in the distance a small light, and thought, “Ah, there I should be saved!” She got down from the tree, and went towards the light, but on the way she prayed. Then she came to a little old house, and much grass had grown all about it, and a small heap of wood lay in front of it. She thought, “Ah, whither have I come,” and peeped in through the window, but she saw nothing inside but toads, big and little, except a table well covered with wine and roast meat, and the plates and glasses were of silver. Then she took courage, and knocked at the door. The fat toad cried,“Little green waiting-maid,Waiting-maid with the limping leg,Little dog of the limping leg,Hop hither and thither,And quickly see who is without:”and a small toad came walking by and opened the door to her. When she entered, they all bade her welcome, and she was forced to sit down. They asked, “Where hast thou come from, and whither art thou going?” Then she related all that had befallen her, and how because she had transgressed the order which had been given her not to say more than three words, the stove, and the King’s son also, had disappeared, and now she was about to seek him over hill and dale until she found him. Then the old fat one said,“Little green waiting-maid,Waiting-maid with the limping leg,Little dog of the limping leg,Hop hither and thither,And bring me the great box.”Then the little one went and brought the box. After this they gave her meat and drink, and took her to a well-made bed, which felt like silk and velvet, and she laid herself therein, in God’s name, and slept. When morning came she arose, and the old toad gave her three needles out of the great box which she was to take with her; they would be needed by her, for she had to cross a high glass mountain, and go over three piercing swords and a great lake. If she did all this she would get her lover back again. Then she gave her three things, which she was to take the greatest care of, namely, three large needles, a plough-wheel, and three nuts. With these she travelled onwards, and when she came to the glass mountain which was so slippery, she stuck the three needles first behind her feet and then before them, and so got over it, and when she was over it, she hid them in a place which she marked carefully. After this she came to the three piercing swords, and then she seated herself on her plough-wheel, and rolled over them. At last she arrived in front of a great lake, and when she had crossed it, she came to a large and beautiful castle. She went and asked for a place; she was a poor girl, she said, and would like to be hired. She knew, however, that the King’s son whom she had released from the iron stove in the great forest was in the castle. Then she was taken as a scullery-maid at low wages. But, already the King’s son had another maiden by his side whom he wanted to marry, for he thought that she had long been dead.In the evening, when she had washed up and was done, she felt in her pocket and found the three nuts which the old toad had given her. She cracked one with her teeth, and was going to eat the kernel when lo and behold there was a stately royal garment in it! But when the bride heard of this she came and asked for the dress, and wanted to buy it, and said, “It is not a dress for a servant-girl.” But she said, no, she would not sell it, but if the bride would grant her one thing she should have it, and that was, leave to sleep one night in her bridegroom’s chamber. The bride gave her permission because the dress was so pretty, and she had never had one like it. When it was evening she said to her bridegroom, “That silly girl will sleep in thy room.” “If thou art willing so am I,” said he. She, however, gave him a glass of wine in which she had poured a sleeping-draught. So the bridegroom and the scullery-maid went to sleep in the room, and he slept so soundly that she could not waken him.She wept the whole night and cried, “I set thee free when thou wert in an iron stove in the wild forest, I sought thee, and walked over a glass mountain, and three sharp swords, and a great lake before I found thee, and yet thou wilt not hear me!”The servants sat by the chamber-door, and heard how she thus wept the whole night through, and in the morning they told it to their lord. And the next evening when she had washed up, she opened the second nut, and a far more beautiful dress was within it, and when the bride beheld it, she wished to buy that also. But the girl would not take money, and begged that she might once again sleep in the bridegroom’s chamber. The bride, however, gave him a sleeping-drink, and he slept so soundly that he could hear nothing. But the scullery-maid wept the whole night long, and cried, “I set thee free when thou wert in an iron stove in the wild forest, I sought thee, and walked over a glass mountain, and over three sharp swords and a great lake before I found thee, and yet thou wilt not hear me!” The servants sat by the chamber-door and heard her weeping the whole night through, and in the morning informed their lord of it. And on the third evening, when she had washed up, she opened the third nut, and within it was a still more beautiful dress which was stiff with pure gold. When the bride saw that she wanted to have it, but the maiden only gave it up on condition that she might for the third time sleep in the bridegroom’s apartment. The King’s son was, however, on his guard, and threw the sleeping-draught away. Now, therefore, when she began to weep and to cry, “Dearest love, I set thee free when thou wert in the iron stove in the terrible wild forest,” the King’s son leapt up and said, “Thou art the true one, thou art mine, and I am thine.” Thereupon, while it was still night, he got into a carriage with her, and they took away the false bride’s clothes so that she could not get up. When they came to the great lake, they sailed across it, and when they reached the three sharp-cutting swords they seated themselves on the plough-wheel, and when they got to the glass mountain they thrust the three needles in it, and so at length they got to the little old house; but when they went inside that, it was a great castle, and the toads were all disenchanted, and were King’s children, and full of happiness. Then the wedding was celebrated, and the King’s son and the princess remained in the castle, which was much larger than the castles of their fathers. As, however, the old King grieved at being left alone, they fetched him away, and brought him to live with them, and they had two kingdoms, and lived in happy wedlock.A mouse did run,The story is done.
It was winter-time; the air was cold, the wind was sharp, but within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable, and within the closed door lay the flower; it lay in the bulb under the snow-covered earth.One day rain fell. The drops penetrated through the snowy covering down into the earth, and touched the flower-bulb, and talked of the bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the snow to the root, and within the root there was a stirring.“Come in,” said the flower.“I cannot,” said the Sunbeam. “I am not strong enough to unlock the door! When the summer comes I shall be strong!”“When will it be summer?” asked the Flower, and she repeated this question each time a new sunbeam made its way down to her. But the summer was yet far distant. The snow still lay upon the ground, and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.“What a long time it takes! what a long time it takes!” said the Flower. “I feel a stirring and striving within me; I must stretch myself, I must unlock the door, I must get out, and must nod a good morning to the summer, and what a happy time that will be!”And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind which the water had softened from without, and the snow and the earth had warmed, and the Sunbeam had knocked at; and it shot forth under the snow with a greenish-white blossom on a green stalk, with narrow thick leaves, which seemed to want to protect it. The snow was cold, but was pierced by the Sunbeam, therefore it was easy to get through it, and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than before.“Welcome, welcome!” sang and sounded every ray, and the Flower lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams caressed and kissed it, so that it opened altogether, white as snow, and ornamented with green stripes. It bent its head in joy and humility.“Beautiful Flower!” said the Sunbeams, “how graceful and delicate you are! You are the first, you are the only one! You are our love! You are the bell that rings out for summer, beautiful summer, over country and town. All the snow will melt; the cold winds will be driven away; we shall rule; all will become green, and then you will have companions, syringas, laburnums, and roses; but you are the first, so graceful, so delicate!”That was a great pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing and sounding, as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and the stalks of the Flower. There it stood, so delicate and so easily broken, and yet so strong in its young beauty; it stood there in its white dress with the green stripes, and made a summer. But there was a long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun, and bleak winds were blowing.“You have come too early,” said Wind and Weather. “We have still the power, and you shall feel it, and give it up to us. You should have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display of yourself. Your time is not come yet!”It was a cutting cold! The days which now come brought not a single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would be sure to come, which had been announced by her deep longing and confirmed by the warm sunlight; and so she remained standing in confidence in the snow in her white garment, bending her head even while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy, and the icy winds swept over her.“You’ll break!” they said, “and fade, and fade! What did you want out here? Why did you let yourself be tempted? The Sunbeam only made game of you. Now you have what you deserve, you summer gauk.”“Summer gauk!” she repeated in the cold morning hour.“O summer gauk!” cried some children rejoicingly; “yonder stands one—how beautiful, how beautiful! The first one, the only one!”These words did the Flower so much good, they seemed to her like warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was broken off. It lay in a child’s hand, and was kissed by a child’s mouth, and carried into a warm room, and looked on by gentle eyes, and put into water. How strengthening, how invigorating! The Flower thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.The daughter of the house, a beautiful little girl, was confirmed, and she had a friend who was confirmed, too. He was studying for an examination for an appointment. “He shall be my summer gauk,” she said; and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of scented paper, on which verses were written, beginning with summer gauk and ending with summer gauk. “My friend, be a winter gauk.” She had twitted him with the summer. Yes, all this was in the verses, and the paper was folded up like a letter, and the Flower was folded in the letter, too. It was dark around her, dark as in those days when she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey, and lay in the post-bag, and was pressed and crushed, which was not at all pleasant; but that soon came to an end.The journey was over; the letter was opened, and read by the dear friend. How pleased he was! He kissed the letter, and it was laid, with its enclosure of verses, in a box, in which there were many beautiful verses, but all of them without flowers; she was the first, the only one, as the Sunbeams had called her; and it was a pleasant thing to think of that.She had time enough, moreover, to think about it; she thought of it while the summer passed away, and the long winter went by, and the summer came again, before she appeared once more. But now the young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very roughly, and threw the verses away, so that the Flower fell on the ground. Flat and faded she certainly was, but why should she be thrown on the ground? Still, it was better to be here than in the fire, where the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened? What happens so often:—the Flower had made a gauk of him, that was a jest; the girl had made a fool of him, that was no jest, she had, during the summer, chosen another friend.Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened Snowdrop, that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The servant girl, who was sweeping out the room, picked it up, and laid it in one of the books which were upon the table, in the belief that it must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the flower lay among verses—printed verses—and they are better than written ones—at least, more money has been spent upon them.And after this years went by. The book stood upon the book-shelf, and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It was a good book; verses and songs by the old Danish poet, Ambrosius Stub, which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the book turned over a page.“Why, there’s a flower!” he said; “a snowdrop, a summer gauk, a poet gauk! That flower must have been put in there with a meaning! Poor Ambrosius Stub! he was a summer fool too, a poet fool; he came too early, before his time, and therefore he had to taste the sharp winds, and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to another, like a flower in a glass of water, a flower in rhymed verses! Summer fool, winter fool, fun and folly—but the first, the only, the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes, thou shalt remain as a token in the book, thou little snowdrop: thou hast been put there with a meaning.”And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book, and felt equally honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book of songs, and that he who was the first to sing and to write had been also a snowdrop, had been a summer gauk, and had been looked upon in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this, in her way, as we interpret everything in our way.That is the story of the Snowdrop.
Tawhaki the Prince, was so brave and hand­some, and did so many noble deeds,  that his fame went abroad throughout the land.  At last even the Sky-fairies heard of him. One of them said, “I wonder whether this Earth-prince is as brave and handsome as they say he is. I will go down to the earth to see.”One summer morning she descended to the earth. Herself unseen, she watched Tawhaki, finding him even braver and more  handsome than any one had told her. Indeed, she was so pleased with him that she came out of her hiding­ place and made herself known to him.Each day she came down to talk to him. He was glad and proud, for no Earth-princess was half so beautiful; besides, was she not a Sky­-fairy? At last these two became so fond of one another that they were married.  The Sky-fairy left her home above the clouds, and lived on the earth as Tawhaki’s wife.Such a thing had never happened before. When the other Sky-fairies heard of it they were exceedingly angry.  “She belongs to us,” they said. “She must come back.”But she refused to come.  “I love Tawhaki,” she said. “I will not leave him.”They made up their minds to carry her off. One day they swooped down upon the island and carried her away  before Tawhaki’s  very eyes.She struggled with all her strength to free herself, while Tawhaki tried to hold her back and beat the Sky-fairies  off.  But  the Sky-fairies were too powerful. They pushed Tawhaki aside and carried his wife  away.  “Sky-fairies must not live on the earth,”  they said.  “You shall never return to Tawhaki.”“Come to me, then, Tawhaki!  Come to me in the sky!” she called, her voice growing fainter as she was borne out of his hearing.Tawhaki stretched up despairing arms. What could he do? He had no means of following her. And yet, the loneliness without her! For many sad and weary days he wandered hopelessly about, unable to find a way of reaching her.  He  asked the eagles to carry him, but they replied that they could  never reach the sky. He climbed mountain after  mountain, but none was high enough.One morning, passing through the mountain­land, he came upon an old woman, sitting alone. An old, old woman she was. In her hand she held a fine white spider-thread.“Who are you?” asked Tawhaki.“I am called the Old Grandmother,” she replied. “What  are  you  doing  in  this  lonely  place?” “Holding this thread.”Tawhaki’s eye followed the  thread up.  “Where is the other end?” he asked.“In the sky.”“What is it for?”  asked  Tawhaki eagerly. The old woman eyed him steadily. “If a man on the earth wished to go to Sky-land he might climb this thread,”  she said. “It would bear him, but he must be very brave, for if he once looked back or lost heart he would fall and be dashed  to  pieces. I  do not think any Earth­ man is brave enough to attempt the deed.”“Try me. I  will go!” cried Tawhaki,  his heart beating with joy. He guessed that this thread had been sent down by his wife that he might go to her.“Give me the thread,” he said.The Old Grandmother was pleased at his courage, but she warned him of his danger.  “It is such a tiny, slender  thread,” she said. ” One slip, one moment’s loss of courage, would dash you on these mountain-tops.”“I shall not be afraid,”  said Tawhaki. “My heart is too full of love to have room for fear.” “Listen then,” she said. “I will teach you a charm.  Sing it if ever your strength seems to be leaving you. By it, too, you can change yourself as you will.”She sang the charm, and he repeated it until he knew it.“Now you may go,” she said. “Keep a brave heart, remember to never look back, and, if your strength fails, sing the charm.” Grasping the spider-thread, Tawhaki sprang from the earth, and began his wonderful climb to Sky-land. What a frail thread it was! It swayed and swung with his weight, but he had faith in its magic power to hold him. He clung and climbed, higher and ever higher, until he was level with the tops of the lower hills.Up still, and higher yet. Now he was level with the highest mountains. Now he was above them. He was  passing   through Cloud-land. What if the thread should break or come loose? He would not think of such accidents. His wife was at the top.It was cold, cold and wet in Cloud-land, and he had been climbing for hours. His strength began to ebb. Then he remembered the charm, and sang it with all his might as he passed through the great lonely spaces beneath Sky-land. Over and over again he sang it, till weariness fled and strength returned.Climbing now quickly and joyfully, he came to the first of the ten Sky-lands. He pushed himself through the flooring, and it cracked in all directions. A deluge of water rushed through the hole. He sprang up and looked round. The water was overflowing from the edge of a lake in which Sky-fairies were bathing.“That water will make a flood on the earth,” he thought; but he did not stay to look  back, nor even to watch the Sky-fairies. He knew his wife’s  home was not here, but on the fourth Sky-land. He grasped the thread again, and went on his way.When he reached the second Sky-land  he met a snake-shaped fish. Behind this fish crawled hundreds of smaller ones. “Who are you?” Tawhaki asked boldly.“I am the Eel-king,” replied the fish. “I am looking for water. Up here we are parched and dry. How is it in the earth?”“Uncomfortably wet, I should say, for I have cracked the lowest Sky-land and let the water through from the fairies’ lake,” said Tawhaki. “Good! ” said the Eel-king. ” The  earth is the very place for us. Come, my children, to this delightful earth.”With his wriggling people he slid down through the hole to the earth, and here he has stayed ever since. Before that there were no eels in the creeks and rivers of the world.On the third Sky-land Tawhaki met the Pukaki. The bird stretched its long neck in astonishment at the sight of an earth-man. “Where are you going?” he asked.“To the fourth Sky-land,” replied Tawhaki. “What is the earth like just now?” was the bird’s next question. “Very wet. Flooded, in fact,” said Tawhaki.“You don’t say so! ” cried the bird joyfully. “Why, that is the kind of world I want. Here there is no swamp. I shall go down to the earth. Tell me, do the fairies know you are on your way to their land?”“No,” said Tawhaki. “I do not wish them to know that.”“Oh, indeed! Then I shall give them warn­ing.”The mischievous bird raised his head to give a cry that should reach the fourth Sky-land.  Just in time Tawhaki caught him by the nose, pinching it so hard that the Pukaki could make no sound. He pulled, and struggled to break loose, but Taw­haki held on.Tawhaki said, “Will you promise to keep quiet if I let you go?”A subdued droop of the bird’s tail seemed to answer “yes,” so Tawhaki loosed his hold.The Pukaki fled down through the hole to the earth. Ever since that day his nose has been red from Tawhaki’s pinching, and all his children and children’s children have been hatched with crimson noses.Tawhaki climbed the fourth Sky-land. Here the thread ended. He looked about him. This Sky­-land was beautiful, clothed in green forests and decked with bright flowers. Through the trees he saw the gleam of water. Listening, he heard the sound of voices. He crept quietly towards the voices. Near the lake the fairies who had carried off his wife were making a canoe.“If I follow these fairies I shall find my wife,” thought Tawhaki; “but they must not know me, or they will send me down to earth again. I will change my form.” He stole back into the  forest, and softly sang his charm. By the time it was finished he had the appearance of a poor, miserable old man. No one would have recognized in him the handsome Tawhaki.He walked slowly towards the fairies.  ” Look at that old man,”  said one.  “Where has he come from?”“Make him work,”  said  another.  “He shall carry our axes home.”They loaded Tawhaki with axes, and he followed them towards their home.  “What  would my people say if they  could see their Prince carry­ing tools like a servant? “he thought.  “But it is for my wife’s sake. For her I will suffer anything.”An idea came to him. He called to the fairies, “Do not wait for me.  I am old, and cannot walk fast. I will follow you slowly.”The fairies went on.  As soon as they were out of sight Tawhaki changed himself to his old strength of limb.   Running back to the canoe, he worked at it until one side was finished. “My work is better than theirs,” he said. “They may be glad to learn from me.”He ran through the forest till he almost reached the fairies, then he returned to the form of the old man carrying the axes. At the fairies’ home he saw his wife. She sat sadly by herself, taking no interest in anything. She glanced at the old man following the fairies, but did not recognize him as Tawhaki. He dared not make himself known. “I must first finish the canoe,” he thought.Early the next morning the fairies again set off for the forest, Tawhaki carrying the tools. When they reached the canoe the fairies stood lost in astonishment. “Who has been working at our canoe? It is half done. And so well done! Who can it be?”Nobody knew, and of course nobody suspected the feeble old man. After talking a great deal about it, and coming to no solution of the mystery, they set to work, chopping and adzing all through the day. When the evening came Tawhaki did exactly as he had done the night before. The next morning the other side of their canoe was finished.“Tonight we will watch,” they said. This was just what Tawhaki wished. When the evening came he changed himself into the strong and handsome Tawhaki, knowing that the fairies were waiting in the forest to surprise him. They came rushing out from behind the trees. “We have found you at last, kind worker,” they shouted.He turned his face to  them, and they saw that he was Tawhaki!Without a word he set off at a run for his wife’s hone. The angry, puzzled fairies followed him. Some said: “He shall  not stay.  Send him back to earth.” Others said: “Let him stay. He can teach us the building of canoes. We can make a Sky-fairy of him, and his wife will then be happy.”They reached the house. Tawhaki ran in and stood before his wife. She knew him now and sprang to meet him. They held each other’s hands, and showed their joy so plainly that the fairies could not bear to part them. “He shall stay,”they agreed.They gave him fairy power, so that he can never die. Today he lives in happiness with his fairy wife. So powerful has he grown in magic that men, hearing his footsteps on the floor of Sky-land, call them thunder; and when he lifts his arms lightning flashes from his armpits.
A peasant from Jursagard in the parish of Hanger had gone to the forest the day before Christmas, and started out for home late in the evening. He had just about reached the Klintaberg when he heard some one call out: “Tell the malt-swine to come home, for her child has fallen into the fire!” When the peasant reached home, there stood his wife, who had been brewing the Yuletide ale, and she was complaining that though she brewed and brewed, it did not have the right flavor. Then he told her what had been shouted at him from the hill, and that very moment a troll-witch, whom they had not noticed before, darted down from the stove and made off in a great hurry. And when they looked closer, they found that she had left behind a great kettle full of the best malt, which she had gathered during the brewing. And that was the reason the poor woman had not been able to give her brew the right flavor. The kettle was large, made of ornamented metal, and was long preserved in Hanger. It was at length sold at auction in 1838, and melted down.In former days, when a child came into the world, his mother was known as a “heathen,” until she could take him to church to be christened. And it was not safe for her to leave the house unless she carried steel about her in some shape or form. Now once there was one of these “heathen” women in Norra Ryd, in the parish of Hanger, who prepared lunch for the mowers, and went out and called them in to eat. Then one of the mowers said to her: “I cannot come, for my sheaf is not yet bound.” “I will bind it for you,” said the woman. The mowers went in and ate, but saw no more of her. They went back into the field, and were about to take up their work again, but still neither saw nor heard her. They began to search, and hunted for a number of days; but all in vain. Time passed, till it was late in the fall. One day the weather was clear and sunny. To this very day there is a cotter’s hut, called Kusabo, that stands on a hill named Kusas, and the cotter who lived there went to look for a horse. And there on the hillside he saw the woman sitting who had disappeared, and she was sewing. It was not far from Kusabo to Norra Ryd, so he recognized her at once. He said “O, you poor thing, and here you sit!” “Yes,” said she, “but you must never mention it to Lars”—that was her husband—”for I shall never return from this place. Even now I am only allowed to sit outside for a little while.”Once upon a time a girl was hunting for berries on Kusabo mountain, and was taken into the hill. But she wept, night and day, which disgruntled the trolls, and they let her out again. But just as they were letting her out, one of the trolls hit her such a blow on the back that she was hump-backed for the rest of her life. She herself used to tell how she had been kept in the hill.
There was once a crab who lived in a hole on the shady side of a mountain. She was a very good housewife, and so careful and industrious that there was no creature in the whole country whose hole was so neat and clean as hers, and she took great pride in it.One day she saw lying near the mouth of her hole a handful of cooked rice which some pilgrim must have let fall when he was stopping to eat his dinner. Delighted at this discovery, she hastened to the spot, and was carrying the rice back to her hole when a monkey, who lived in some trees near by, came down to see what the crab was doing. His eyes shone at the sight of the rice, for it was his favourite food, and like the sly fellow he was, he proposed a bargain to the crab. She was to give him half the rice in exchange for the kernel of a sweet red kaki fruit which he had just eaten. He half expected that the crab would laugh in his face at this impudent proposal, but instead of doing so she only looked at him for a moment with her head on one side and then said that she would agree to the exchange. So the monkey went off with his rice, and the crab returned to her hole with the kernel.For some time the crab saw no more of the monkey, who had gone to pay a visit on the sunny side of the mountain; but one morning he happened to pass by her hole, and found her sitting under the shadow of a beautiful kaki tree.‘Good day,’ he said politely, ‘you have some very fine fruit there! I am very hungry, could you spare me one or two?’‘Oh, certainly,’ replied the crab, ‘but you must forgive me if I cannot get them for you myself. I am no tree-climber.’‘Pray do not apologise,’ answered the monkey. ‘Now that I have your permission I can get them myself quite easily.’ And the crab consented to let him go up, merely saying that he must throw her down half the fruit.In another moment he was swinging himself from branch to branch, eating all the ripest kakis and filling his pockets with the rest, and the poor crab saw to her disgust that the few he threw down to her were either not ripe at all or else quite rotten.‘You are a shocking rogue,’ she called in a rage; but the monkey took no notice, and went on eating as fast as he could. The crab understood that it was no use her scolding, so she resolved to try what cunning would do.‘Sir Monkey,’ she said, ‘ you are certainly a very good climber, but now that you have eaten so much, I am quite sure you would never be able to turn one of your somersaults.’ The monkey prided himself on turning better somersaults than any of his family, so he instantly went head over heels three times on the bough on which he was sitting, and all the beautiful kakis that he had in his pockets rolled to the ground. Quick as lightning the crab picked them up and carried a quantity of them into her house, but when she came up for another the monkey sprang on her, and treated her so badly that he left her for dead. When he had beaten her till his arm ached he went his way.It was a lucky thing for the poor crab that she had some friends to come to her help or she certainly would have died then and there. The wasp flew to her, and took her back to bed and looked after her, and then he consulted with a rice-mortar and an egg which had fallen out of a nest near by, and they agreed that when the monkey returned, as he was sure to do, to steal the rest of the fruit, that they would punish him severely for the manner in which he had behaved to the crab. So the mortar climbed up to the beam over the front door, and the egg lay quite still on the ground, while the wasp set down the water-bucket in a corner. Then the crab dug itself a deep hole in the ground, so that not even the tip of her claws might be seen.Soon after everything was ready the monkey jumped down from his tree, and creeping to the door began a long hypocritical speech, asking pardon for all he had done. He waited for an answer of some sort, but none came. He listened, but all was still; then he peeped, and saw no one; then he went in. He peered about for the crab, but in vain; however, his eyes fell on the egg, which he snatched up and set on the fire. But in a moment the egg had burst into a thousand pieces, and its sharp shell struck him in the face and scratched him horribly. Smarting with pain he ran to the bucket and stooped down to throw some water over his head. As he stretched out his hand up started the wasp and stung him on the nose. The monkey shrieked and ran to the door, but as he passed through down fell the mortar and struck him dead. ‘After that the crab lived happily for many years, and at length died in peace under her own kaki tree.
Once upon a time, there was a man who took his wife and tiny baby son into the deep forest to make their home. With his own hands he built the house out of mud, and he made for it a thatched roof from the grass of the forest. For food they depended upon the fruits of the forest and the beasts which they killed in the hunt. They lived like hermits, seeing no one.As the baby son grew into a large strong boy he learned from his father all the secrets of the forest. He grew wise as well as strong. From his mother he heard stories of their former life in the great city which had been their home before they went to live in the forest. These were the tales he loved to hear best of all. Very often when his father went out into the forest to hunt the boy would beg to remain at home with his mother. While his father was away she would sit on the ground before their hut and unfold to the boy all her memories of their old life.“Father,” said the lad one day after his father had returned from his hunting trip, “I am tired of living here in the forest all by ourselves. Let us return to the city to live.”“Your mother has been telling tales to you,” replied his father. “I will see to it that she never mentions the city to you again. We left the city to save our lives. Let me never hear from you another word about returning to the city.”After that the lad was made to accompany his father when he went out hunting. There was no more opportunity to hear the tales he loved from his mother’s lips. Nevertheless he hid away in his mind all that his mother had told him of their old life; and at night, when the fierce storms in the forest or the sound of the wild beasts would not let him sleep, he often lay awake upon his mat on the floor of the hut, pondering over the stories she had told.At last the father grew sick of a fever and died. Now that the lad and his mother were left alone in the forest the lad said, “Come, let us return to our home in the city. Let us not stay here alone in the forest any longer. I must live in my own life the tales you have told me of the festas and the dancing, the great tournaments, and the songs at night under the balconies of the fair maidens.”The lad’s request was so urgent that his mother could not have refused him, even if she, in her own heart, was not longing for a return to the life of the city. Accordingly, they took all their possessions, which consisted only of a horse and a sword, and set out for the city.The lad and his mother reached the city at nightfall. They went from one street to another, but saw no living being. They knocked and clapped their hands before all the doors of the city, but no one responded. At last they reached the street where their old home had been. The lad was delighted to see what a big handsome house it was. “No wonder my mother longed to return to a home like this,” he thought. “How could she ever have endured the rude hut in the depths of the forest?”The doors of the beautiful house stood wide open. The lad and his mother entered, and passed from one room to another. His mother saw one room after another with everything unchanged. She recognized one object after another just as she had left it. There was one room in the house which was securely barred on the inside, however.The lad and his mother spent the night in their old home. In the morning they again walked about the deserted streets of the city. They saw no one and heard no living sound. It was like a city of the dead. They grew hungry at length; and the lad went outside the city to seek for food in the forest, according to the custom which he had known all his life.The mother returned to her old home to await the coming of her son. As soon as she went upstairs she saw that the barred door was wide open. There in the hall stood the most enormous giant she had ever seen. The great halls of the house were high, but the giant could not stand up in them without stooping.“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” roared the giant in such a terrible voice that the house trembled.The woman who had lived so many years in the forest was not easily frightened. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” she shouted at the giant in the loudest tones she could muster.One might have expected that the giant would have killed her instantly, but on the contrary her bold answer pleased him exceedingly. He laughed so hard that he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.“So you think that this is your house, do you?” said the giant as soon as he could regain his voice. “Well, I’ll tell you what we can do. I like you, and we can share this house if you will consent to be my wife.”“I am not alone,” said the lad’s mother as soon as she could recover from her surprise sufficiently to find words. “My son is with me and I am expecting him any moment to return from the forest whither he has gone to procure food for us.”“I can dispose of your son very quickly, just as I have destroyed all the inhabitants of this city,” said the giant with a frown.“You cannot dispose of my son so easily as you may think,” replied his mother. “He has grown in the deep forest and is very strong, far stronger than the city dwellers. Besides his great strength, he is surrounded by the magic circle of his mother’s love.”“I do not know what the magic circle of a mother’s love is like,” said the giant. “I don’t remember having seen one anywhere. Nevertheless I like you, and because I like you I will endeavour to dispose of your son as painlessly as possible. I believe you say you are expecting him any moment. Just lie down here and pretend that you are sick. When the boy comes in tell him that you have a terrible pain in your eyes. As you have lived long in the forest you will know that the best remedy for a pain in your eyes is the oil of the deadly cobra of the jungle. Send the lad out into the jungle to obtain this oil for you, and I promise you he will never return alive. I’ll go back into my room and bar the door so the boy will never see me, but I shall listen through the wall to know whether you carry out my command.”At that very moment they heard the lad’s footsteps and his gay voice at the door. The giant went inside his room and barred the door. The lad’s mother lay down with a cloth over her eyes, moaning in loud tones. “The giant little knows the strength and skill of the lad whose mother I am,” she said to herself as she smiled amidst her moans and groans.“O dear little mother, what evil has befallen you during my absence?” asked the boy as he entered the room.His mother complained of the pain in her eyes just as the giant had instructed. “The only thing which will cure me of this terrible affliction is the oil of the cobra,” she said.The boy well knew the dangers which attended securing the oil from the deadly cobra of the jungle, but never in his life had he disregarded a request from his mother. He at once set out for the jungle; and, in spite of the perils of the deed, he succeeded in obtaining the oil which his mother had requested.On the way back to the city, the boy met a little old woman carrying a pole over her shoulder from which there hung, head downward, several live fowls which she was taking to market. It was really the Holy Mother herself who had come to aid the lad in answer to his mother’s prayer.“Where are you going, my lad?” asked the old woman. The boy told his story and showed the precious oil which he had obtained from the cobra. “The day is coming, the day is coming, my lad, when you will, in truth, need the cobra’s oil,” said the little old woman. “But that day is not today. Today hen’s oil will serve your purpose just as well. You may kill one of my hens and use the hen’s oil, but leave the cobra’s oil with me so that I may keep it safely for you until the day when you will require it.”The boy heeded the advice of the little old woman and killed one of her hens. He left the cobra’s oil with her and took the hen’s oil in its place to his mother. Because his mother had nothing at all the matter with her eyes, the hen’s oil cured them just as well as the cobra’s oil. There was no one who knew the difference, except the boy and the little old woman.When the boy had gone out the giant came in from his own room and said, “In truth your son is a brave lad. I did not dream that he would have the courage to go in search of the oil of the deadly cobra, much less succeed in his quest.”“You do not know the great love we bear each other,” said the lad’s mother.“I am going to demand a new proof of your son’s strength and skill,” said the giant. “Tomorrow you must complain of the pain in your back and send the boy in search of the oil of the porcupine to cure it. This is my command.”The next day the woman had to complain of a pain in her back just as the giant had commanded. There was nothing else which she could do. The boy at once went in search of a porcupine, and succeeded in slaying one and getting the oil.On his way back to the city the lad again met the little old woman who was really Nossa Senhora. “Leave the oil of the porcupine with me, my son,” said she when she had heard his story. “I will keep it for you until the morrow when you will have great need of it. Today hen’s oil will serve your purpose just as well.”Because the boy’s mother had nothing at all the matter with her back she was cured with the hen’s oil which the boy brought, just as easily as if it had been the porcupine’s oil. The giant came out of his room and said, “In truth, lad, you are a boy of great skill and strength.”The boy had not seen the giant before and he was very much surprised. Before he even had time to recover from his amazement the giant had seized him and bound him securely with a great rope. “If you are really a strong boy you will break this rope,” said the giant. “If you are not strong enough to break it I shall cut you into five pieces with my sword.”The boy struggled with all his might to break the great rope. It was no use. He was not strong enough. The giant stood by laughing.When the lad’s mother saw that he could not break the rope she fell upon her knees before the giant and cried, “Do what you will to me, but spare my son!”The cruel giant laughed at her request. When she saw that she could not keep him from slaying the boy, she said, “If you will not grant my large request I beg that you will listen to just a tiny, tiny, little one. When you cut my son into five pieces do it with his father’s sword which he has brought with him from the little hut in the forest where we used to live. Then bind his body upon the back of his father’s horse which he brought with him out of the forest and turn the horse loose, so it may travel, perchance, back to the forest from which I brought my lad to meet this terrible death.”The giant did as she requested, and the horse bore the slain boy’s body along the road to the forest. Outside the city they met the little old woman who was really Nossa Senhora. She took the parts of the lad’s body and anointed them with the porcupine’s oil. Then she held them tight together. They stayed securely joined. “Are you lacking anything?” she asked the boy.The boy felt of his legs, his arms, his ears, his nose, his hair. “I am all here except my eyesight,” he said. The little old woman anointed his eyes with the cobra’s oil. His sight was immediately restored. Then he knew that the little old woman was indeed the Holy Mother. She vanished as he knelt to receive her blessing.The boy in his new strength quickly hastened back to the city. It was night and the giant was asleep. He seized his father’s sword and plunged it into the giant’s body. The giant turned over without awakening. “The mosquitoes are biting me,” he muttered in his sleep.The boy saw the giant’s own enormous sword lying on the floor. It was so heavy he could barely lift it, but mustering all his strength he drove it into the giant’s body. The giant died immediately.“The magic circle of a mother’s love, with the Holy Mother’s help, will guard a lad against all perils,” said the boy’s mother when she heard her son’s story and saw the giant lying dead.
An old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a crooked sixpence.“What,” says she, “shall I do with this sixpence? I will go to the market and buy a pig with it.”She went; and as she was coming home she came to a stile. Now the pig would not go over the stile. The woman went on a little further and met a dog—“Dog,” said she, “bite pig. Piggy won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home to-night.”But the dog would not bite the pig. The woman went on a little further, and she met a stick.“Stick,” said she, “beat dog. Dog won’t bite pig, piggy won’t go over stile, and I shan’t get home to-night.”But the stick would not. The woman went on a little further, and she met a fire.“Fire,” said she, “burn stick. Stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, piggy won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home to-night.”But the fire would not. The woman went on a little further and she met some water.“Water,” said she, “quench fire. Fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog,” etc.But the water would not. The woman went on a little further, and she met an ox.“Ox,” said she, “drink water. Water won’t quench fire,” etc.But the ox would not. The woman went on again, and she met a butcher.“Butcher,” said she, “kill ox. Ox won’t drink water,” etc.But the butcher would not. The woman went on a little further, and met a rope.“Rope,” said she, “hang butcher. Butcher won’t kill ox,” etc.But the rope would not. Again the woman went on, and she met a rat.“Rat,” said she, “gnaw rope. Rope won’t hang butcher,” etc.But the rat would not. The woman went on a little further, and met a cat.“Cat,” said she, “kill rat. Rat won’t gnaw rope,” etc.“Oh,” said the cat, “I will kill the rat if you will fetch me a basin of milk from the cow over there.”The old woman went to the cow and asked her to let her have some milk for the cat.“No,” said the cow; “I will let you have no milk unless you bring me a mouthful of hay from yonder stack.”Away went the old woman to the stack and fetched the hay and gave it to the cow. Then the cow gave her some milk, and the old woman took it to the cat.When the cat had lapped the milk, the cat began to kill the rat, the rat began to gnaw the rope, the rope began to hang the butcher, the butcher began to kill the ox, the ox began to drink the water, the water began to quench the fire, the fire began to burn the stick, the stick began to beat the dog, the dog began to bite the pig, and piggy, in a fright, jumped over the stile, and so, after all, the old woman got safe home that night.
Do you know the Lovely Ladies of the Bush? They swing on the tips of the Hoheria tree, with their floating white gowns and tossing silvery ringlets, and are so light and graceful that they float on the wind as they swing. If you could only see the Lovely Ladies dancing! But very few have been lucky enough for that!They dance on the wind, holding to the tips of the Hoheria and their white gowns flutter and swirl, and their ringlets float and sway, and sometimes in the joy of the dance a Lovely Lady lets go of her branch and comes fluttering down to earth.Then she can dance no more, but lies very still. It is rather sad, because once she has let go she may not go back and dance on the tree for a whole long year, and it is looked on rather as a disgrace to be the first to fall.However, she has not to wait long for company. For one by one, the Lovely Ladies, wild with the joy of the mazy dance, the soft rush of the wind and the laughing and clapping of the little leaves, loose their hold, and drift to earth light as thistle-down, and that is the end of their dancing for that year. Where do they go to while the year goes by? I have never found out, but I think it most likely that they go to the place they came from.“The wind is shaking the Hoheria tree,Cling, Maidens, cling!”“I’ll dance with you if you’ll dance with me,Swing, Maidens, swing!”“So up with a windy rush we go,Floating, fluttering, to and fro,”“Sing for the joy of it, Maidens, Oh!Sing, Maidens, sing!”The Piccaninnies simply love to watch the Lovely Ladies dancing, and long to be able to dance in the same way. When they hear the song, their little brown toes go fidgeting among the moss and leaves, and their heads nod-nodding to the air.Once they found a Hoheria tree after all the Lovely Ladies had left it, and now, they thought, was their chance. They swarmed all over the tree, clutched the tips of the delicate branches, and began working themselves up and down like mad.It was great fun, but with their chubby little brown bodies, short legs, and shock heads, it did not look quite the same thing, and three Bush Babies riding that way on a good-natured kiwi, laughed so much (and even the kiwi, which is a grave bird, looked up and smiled) that the Piccaninnies, feeling rather foolish, dropped to the the ground and ran away and hid in the fern.
Part I: The Bear on the MountainIn a sunny land in Greece called Arcadia there lived a king and a queen who had no children. They wanted very much to have a son who might live to rule over Arcadia when the king was dead, and so, as the years went by, they prayed to great Jupiter on the mountain top that he would send them a son. After a while a child was born to them, but it was a little girl. The father was in a great rage with Jupiter and everybody else.“What is a girl good for?” he said. “She can never do anything but sing, and spin, and spend money. If the child had been a boy, he might have learned to do many things,-to ride, and to hunt, and to fight in the wars,-and by and by he would have been king of Arcadia. But this girl can never be a king.”Then he called to one of his men and bade him take the babe out to a mountain where there was nothing but rocks and thick woods, and leave it there to be eaten up by the wild bears that lived in the caves and thickets. It would be the easiest way, he said, to get rid of the useless little creature.The man carried the child far up on the mountain side and laid it down on a bed of moss in the shadow of a great rock. The child stretched out its baby hands towards him and smiled, but he turned away and left it there, for he did not dare to disobey the king.For a whole night and a whole day the babe lay on its bed of moss, wailing for its mother; but only the birds among the trees heard its pitiful cries. At last it grew so weak for want of food that it could only moan and move its head a little from side to side. It would have died before another day if nobody had cared for it.Just before dark on the second evening, a she-bear came strolling down the mountain side from her den. She was out looking for her cubs, for some hunters had stolen them that very day while she was away from home. She heard the moans of the little babe, and wondered if it was not one of her lost cubs; and when she saw it lying so helpless on the moss she went to it and looked at it kindly. Was it possible that a little bear could be changed into a pretty babe with fat white hands and with a beautiful gold chain around its neck? The old bear did not know; and as the child looked at her with its bright black eyes, she growled softly and licked its face with her warm tongue and then lay down beside it, just as she would have done with her own little cubs. The babe was too young to feel afraid, and it cuddled close to the old bear and felt that it had found a friend. After a while it fell asleep; but the bear guarded it until morning and then went down the mountain side to look for food.In the evening, before dark, the bear came again and carried the child to her own den under the shelter of a rock where vines and wild flowers grew; and every day after that she came and gave the child food and played with it. And all the bears on the mountain learned about the wonderful cub that had been found, and came to see it; but not one of them offered to harm it. And the little girl grew fast and became strong, and after a while could walk and run among the trees and rocks and brambles on the round top of the mountain; but her bear mother would not allow her to wander far from the den beneath the rock where the vines and the wild flowers grew.One day some hunters came up the mountain to look for game, and one of them pulled aside the vines which grew in front of the old bear’s home. He was surprised to see the beautiful child lying on the grass and playing with the flowers which she had gathered. But at sight of him she leaped to her feet and bounded away like a frightened deer. She led the hunters a fine chase among the trees and rocks; but there were a dozen of them, and it was not long till they caught her.The hunters had never taken such game as that before, and they were so well satisfied that they did not care to hunt any more that day. The child struggled and fought as hard as she knew how, but it was of no use. The hunters carried her down the mountain, and took her to the house where they lived on the other side of the forest. At first she cried all the time, for she sadly missed the bear that had been a mother to her so long. But the hunters made a great pet of her, and gave her many pretty things to play with, and were very kind; and it was not long till she began to like her new home.The hunters named her Atalanta, and when she grew older, they made her a bow and arrows, and taught her how to shoot; and they gave her a light spear, and showed her how to carry it and how to hurl it at the game or at an enemy. Then they took her with them when they went hunting, and there was nothing in the world that pleased her so much as roaming through the woods and running after the deer and other wild animals. Her feet became very swift, so that she could run faster than any of the men; and her arms were so strong and her eyes so sharp and true that with her arrow or her spear she never missed the mark. And she grew up to be very tall and graceful, and was known throughout all Arcadia as the fleet-footed huntress.Part II: The Brand on the HearthNow, not very far from the land of Arcadia there was a little city named Calydon. It lay in the midst of rich wheat fields and fruitful vineyards; but beyond the vineyards there was a deep dense forest where many wild beasts lived. The king of Calydon was named OEneus, and he dwelt in a white palace with his wife Althea and his boys and girls. His kingdom was so small that it was not much trouble to govern it, and so he spent the most of his time in hunting or in plowing or in looking after his grape vines. He was said to be a very brave man, and he was the friend of all the great heroes of that heroic time.The two daughters of OEneus and Althea were famed all over the world for their beauty; and one of them was the wife of the hero Hercules, who had freed Prometheus from his chains, and done many other mighty deeds. The six sons of OEneus and Althea were noble, handsome fellows; but the noblest and handsomest of them all was Meleager, the youngest.When Meleager was a tiny babe only seven days old, a strange thing happened in the white palace of the king. Queen Althea awoke in the middle of the night, and saw a fire blazing on the hearth. She wondered what it could mean; and she lay quite still by the side of the babe, and looked and listened. Three strange women were standing by the hearth. They were tall, and two of them were beautiful, and the faces of all were stern. Althea knew at once that they were the Fates who give gifts of some kind to every child that is born, and who say whether his life shall be a happy one or full of sadness and sorrow.“What shall we give to this child?” said the eldest and sternest of the three strangers. Her name was Atropos, and she held a pair of sharp shears in her hand.“I give him a brave heart,” said the youngest and fairest. Her name was Clotho, and she held a distaff full of flax, from which she was spinning a golden thread.“And I give him a gentle, noble mind,” said the dark-haired one, whose name was Lachesis. She gently drew out the thread which Clotho spun, and turning to stern Atropos, said: “Lay aside those shears, sister, and give the child your gift.”“I give him life until this brand shall be burned to ashes,” was the answer; and Atropos took a small stick of wood and laid it on the burning coals.The three sisters waited till the stick was ablaze, and then they were gone. Althea sprang up quickly. She saw nothing but the fire on the hearth and the stick burning slowly away. She made haste to pour water upon the blaze, and when every spark was put out, she took the charred stick and put it into a strong chest where she kept her treasures, and locked it up.“I know that the child’s life is safe,” she said, “so long as that stick is kept unburned.”And so, as the years went by, Meleager grew up to be a brave young man, so gentle and noble that his name became known in every land of Greece. He did many daring deeds and, with other heroes, went on a famous voyage across the seas in search of a marvelous fleece of gold; and when he returned to Calydon the people declared that he was the worthiest of the sons of OEneus to become their king.Part III: The Gifts on the AltarsNow it happened one summer that the vineyards of Calydon were fuller of grapes than they had ever been before, and there was so much wheat in the fields that the people did not know what to do with it.“I will tell you what to do,” said King OEneus. “We will have a thanksgiving day, and we will give some of the grain and some of the fruit to the Mighty Beings who sit among the clouds on the mountain top. For it is from them that the sunshine and the fair weather and the moist winds and the warm rains have come; and without their aid we could never have had so fine a harvest.”The very next day the king and the people of Calydon went out into the fields and vineyards to offer up their thank offerings. Here and there they built little altars of turf and stones and laid dry grass and twigs upon them; and then on top of the twigs they put some of the largest bunches of grapes and some of the finest heads of wheat, which they thought would please the Mighty Beings who had sent them so great plenty.There was one altar for Ceres, who had shown men how to sow grain, and one for Bacchus, who had told them about the grape, and one for wing-footed Mercury, who comes in the clouds, and one for Athena, the queen of the air, and one for the keeper of the winds, and one for the giver of light, and one for the driver of the golden sun car, and one for the king of the sea, and one-which was the largest of all-for Jupiter, the mighty thunderer who sits upon the mountain top and rules the world. And when everything was ready, King OEneus gave the word, and fire was touched to the grass and the twigs upon the altars; and the grapes and the wheat that had been laid there were burned up. Then the people shouted and danced, for they fancied that in that way the thank offerings were sent right up to Ceres and Bacchus and Mercury and Athena and all the rest. And in the evening they went home with glad hearts, feeling that they had done right.But they had forgotten one of the Mighty Beings. They had not raised any altar to Diana, the fair huntress and queen of the woods, and they had not offered her a single grape or a single grain of wheat. They had not intended to slight her; but, to tell the truth, there were so many others that they had never once thought about her.I do not suppose that Diana cared anything at all for the fruit or the grain; but it made her very angry to think that she should be forgotten.“I’ll show them that I am not to be slighted in this way,” she said.All went well, however, until the next summer; and the people of Calydon were very happy, for it looked as though there would be a bigger harvest than ever.“I tell you,” said old King OEneus, looking over his fields and his vineyards, “it pays to give thanks. We’ll have another thanksgiving as soon as the grapes begin to ripen.”But even then he did not think of Diana.The very next day the largest and fiercest wild boar that anybody had ever seen came rushing out of the forest. He had two long tusks which stuck far out of his mouth on either side and were as sharp as knives, and the stiff bristles on his back were as large and as long as knitting needles. As he went tearing along towards Calydon, champing his teeth and foaming at the mouth, he was a frightful thing to look at, I tell you. Everybody fled before him. He rushed into the wheat fields and tore up all the grain; he went into the vineyards and broke down all the vines; he rooted up all the trees in the orchards; and, when there was nothing else to do, he went into the pasture lands among the hills and killed the sheep that were feeding there. He was so fierce and so fleet of foot that the bravest warrior hardly dared to attack him. His thick skin was proof against arrows and against such spears as the people of Calydon had; and I do not know how many men he killed with those terrible razor tusks of his. For weeks he had pretty much his own way, and the only safe place for anybody was inside of the walls.When he had laid waste the whole country he went back into the edge of the forest; but the people were so much afraid of him that they lived in dread every day lest he should come again and tear down the gates of the city.“We must have forgotten somebody when we gave thanks last year,” said King OEneus. “Who could it have been?”And then he thought of Diana.“Diana, the queen of the chase,” said he, “has sent this monster to punish us for forgetting her. I am sure that we shall remember her now as long as we live.”Then he sent messengers into all the countries near Calydon, asking the bravest men and skillfullest hunters to come at a certain time and help him hunt and kill the great wild boar. Very many of these men had been with Meleager in that wonderful voyage in search of the Golden Fleece, and he felt sure they would come.Part IV: The Hunt in the ForestWhen the day came which King OEneus had set, there was a wonderful gathering of men at Calydon. The greatest heroes in the world were there; and every one was fully armed, and expected to have fine sport hunting the terrible wild boar. With the warriors from the south there came a tall maiden armed with bow and arrows and a long hunting spear. It was our friend Atalanta, the huntress.“My daughters are having a game of ball in the garden,” said old King OEneus. “Wouldn’t you like to put away your arrows and your spear, and go and play with them?”Atalanta shook her head and lifted her chin as if in disdain.“Perhaps you would rather stay with the queen, and look at the women spin and weave,” said OEneus.“No,” answered Atalanta, “I am going with the warriors to hunt the wild boar in the forest!”How all the men opened their eyes! They had never heard of such a thing as a girl going out with heroes to hunt wild boars.“If she goes, then I will not,” said one.“Nor I, either,” said another.“Nor I,” said a third. “Why, the whole world would laugh at us, and we should never hear the end of it.”Several threatened to go home at once; and two brothers of Queen Althea, rude, unmannerly fellows, loudly declared that the hunt was for heroes and not for puny girls.But Atalanta only grasped her spear more firmly and stood up, tall and straight, in the gateway of the palace. Just then a handsome young man came forward. It was Meleager.“What’s this?” he cried. “Who says that Atalanta shall not go to the hunt? You are afraid that she’ll be braver than you-that is all. Pretty heroes you are! Let all such cowards go home at once.”But nobody went, and it was settled then and there that the maiden should have her own way. And yet the brothers of Queen Althea kept on muttering and complaining.For nine days the heroes and huntsmen feasted in the halls of King OEneus, and early on the tenth they set out for the forest. Soon the great beast was found, and he came charging out upon his foes. The heroes hid behind the trees or climbed up among the branches, for they had not expected to see so terrible a creature. He stood in the middle of a little open space, tearing up the ground with his tusks. The white foam rolled from his mouth, his eyes glistened red like fire, and he grunted so fiercely that the woods and hills echoed with fearful sounds.Then one of the bravest of the men threw his spear. But that only made the beast fiercer than ever; he charged upon the warrior, caught him before he could save himself, and tore him in pieces with his tusks. Another man ventured too far from his hiding-place and was also overtaken and killed. One of the oldest and noblest of the heroes leveled his spear and threw it with all his force; but it only grazed the boar’s tough skin and glanced upward and pierced the heart of a warrior on the other side. The boar was getting the best of the fight.Atalanta now ran forward and threw her spear. It struck the boar in the back, and a great stream of blood gushed out. A warrior let fly an arrow which put out one of the beast’s eyes. Then Meleager rushed up and pierced his heart with his spear. The boar could no longer stand up; but he fought fiercely for some moments, and then rolled over, dead.The heroes then cut off the beast’s head. It was as much as six of them could carry. Then they took the skin from his great body and offered it to Meleager as a prize, because he had given the death wound to the wild boar. But Meleager said:“It belongs to Atalanta, because it was she who gave him the very first wound.” And he gave it to her as the prize of honor.You ought to have seen the tall huntress maiden then, as she stood among the trees with the boar’s skin thrown over her left shoulder and reaching down to her feet. She had never looked so much like the queen of the woods. But the rude brothers of Queen Althea were vexed to think that a maiden should win the prize, and they began to make trouble. One of them snatched Atalanta’s spear from her hand, and dragged the prize from her shoulders, and the other pushed her rudely and bade her go back to Arcadia and live again with the she-bears on the mountain side. All this vexed Meleager, and he tried to make his uncles give back the spear and the prize, and stop their unmannerly talk. But they grew worse and worse, and at last set upon Meleager, and would have killed him if he had not drawn his sword to defend himself. A fight followed, and the rude fellows struck right and left as though they were blind. Soon both were stretched dead upon the ground. Some who did not see the fight said that Meleager killed them, but I would rather believe that they killed each other in their drunken fury.And now all the company started back to the city. Some carried the boar’s huge head, and some the different parts of his body, while others had made biers of the green branches, and bore upon them the dead bodies of those who had been slain. It was indeed a strange procession.A young man who did not like Meleager, had run on in front and had reached the city before the rest of the company had fairly started. Queen Althea was standing at the door of the palace, and when she saw him she asked what had happened in the forest He told her at once that Meleager had killed her brothers, for he knew that, with all their faults, she loved them very dearly. It was terrible to see her grief. She shrieked, and tore her hair, and rushed wildly about from room to room. Her senses left her, and she did not know what she was doing.It was the custom at that time for people to avenge the death of their kindred, and her only thought was how to punish the murderer of her brothers. In her madness she forgot that Meleager was her son. Then she thought of the three Fates and of the unburned firebrand which she had locked up in her chest so many years before. She ran and got the stick and threw it into the fire that was burning on the hearth.It kindled at once, and she watched it as it blazed up brightly. Then it began to turn into ashes, and as the last spark died out, the noble Meleager, who was walking by the side of Atalanta, dropped to the ground dead.When they carried the news to Althea she said not a word, for then she knew what she had done, and her heart was broken. She turned silently away and went to her own room. When the king came home a few minutes later, he found her dead.So ended the hunt in the wood of Calydon.V: The Race for a WifeAfter the death of Meleager, Atalanta went back to her old home among the mountains of Arcadia. She was still the swift-footed huntress, and she was never so happy as when in the green woods wandering among the trees or chasing the wild deer. All the world had heard about her, however; and the young heroes in the lands nearest to Arcadia did nothing else but talk about her beauty and her grace and her swiftness of foot and her courage. Of course every one of these young fellows wanted her to become his wife; and she might have been a queen any day if she had only said the word, for the richest king in Greece would have been glad to marry her. But she cared nothing for any of the young men, and she liked the freedom of the green woods better than all the fine things she might have had in a palace.The young men would not take “No!” for an answer, however. They could not believe that she really meant it, and so they kept coming and staying until the woods of Arcadia were full of them, and there was no getting along with them at all. So, when she could think of no other way to get rid of them, Atalanta called them together and said:“You want to marry me, do you? Well, if any one of you would like to run a race with me from this mountain to the bank of the river over there, he may do so; and I will be the wife of the one who outruns me.”“Agreed! agreed!” cried all the young fellows.“But, listen!” she said. “Whoever tries this race must also agree that if I outrun him, he must lose his life.”Ah, what long faces they all had then! About half of them drew away and went home.“But won’t you give us the start of you a little?” asked the others.“Oh, yes,” she answered. “I will give you the start by a hundred paces. But remember, if I overtake any one before he reaches the river, he shall lose his head that very day.”Several others now found that they were in ill health or that business called them home; and when they were next looked for, they were not to be found. But a good many who had had some practice in sprinting across the country stayed and made up their minds to try their luck. Could a mere girl outrun such fine fellows as they? Nonsense!And so it happened that a race was run almost every day. And almost every day some poor fellow lost his head; for the fleetest-footed sprinter in all Greece was overtaken by Atalanta long before he could reach the river bank. But other young men kept coming and coming, and no sooner had one been put out of the way than another took his place.One day there came from a distant town a handsome, tall young man named Meilanion.“You’d better not run with me,” said Atalanta, “for I shall be sure to overtake you, and that will be the end of you.”“We’ll see about that,” said Meilanion.Now Meilanion, before coming to try his chance, had talked with Venus, the queen of love, who lived with Jupiter among the clouds on the mountain top. And he was so handsome and gentle and wise that Venus took pity on him, and gave him three golden apples and told him what to do.Well, when all was ready for the race, Atalanta tried again to persuade Meilanion not to run, for she also took pity on him.“I’ll be sure to overtake you,” she said.“All right!” said Meilanion, and away he sped; but he had the three golden applies in his pocket.Atalanta gave him a good start, and then she followed after, as swift as an arrow shot from the bow. Meilanion was not a very fast runner, and it would not be hard for her to overtake him. She thought that she would let him get almost to the goal, for she really pitied him. He heard her coming close behind him; he heard her quick breath as she gained on him very fast. Then he threw one of the golden apples over his shoulder.Now, if there was anything in the world that Atalanta admired, it was a bright stone or a pretty piece of yellow gold. As the apple fell to the ground she saw how beautiful it was, and she stopped to pick it up; and while she was doing this, Meilanion gained a good many paces. But what of that? In a minute she was as close behind him as ever. And yet, she really did pity him.Just then Meilanion threw the second apple over his shoulder. It was handsomer and larger than the first, and Atalanta could not bear the thought of allowing some one else to get it. So she stopped to pick it up from among the long grass, where it had fallen. It took somewhat longer to find it than she had expected, and when she looked up again Meilanion was a hundred feet ahead of her. But that was no matter. She could easily overtake him. And yet, how she did pity the foolish young man!Meilanion heard her speeding like the wind behind him. He took the third apple and threw it over to one side of the path where the ground sloped towards the river. Atalanta’s quick eye saw that it was far more beautiful than either of the others. If it were not picked up at once it would roll down into the deep water and be lost, and that would never do. She turned aside from her course and ran after it. It was easy enough to overtake the apple, but while she was doing so Meilanion gained upon her again. He was almost to the goal. How she strained every muscle now to overtake him! But, after all, she felt that she did not care very much. He was the handsomest young man that she had ever seen, and he had given her three golden apples. It would be a great pity if he should have to die. And so she let him reach the goal first.After that, of course, Atalanta became Meilanion’s wife. And he took her with him to his distant home, and there they lived happily together for many, many years.
When Thor was away on one of his journeys he laid his hammer down for a moment, and went away without it.The giant Thrym found the hammer. He carried it to Jotunheim and buried it eight miles deep. When Thor missed his hammer he went back and found that it was gone. He knew that no one but a giant could have lifted it. Back he drove to Asagard in such a rage that the gods themselves trembled. But they trembled still more when they heard Thor’s story. They feared that the giants could no longer be kept out of Asgard. Loke borrowed Freyja’s falcon plumage and flew to Jotunheim. The first giant he met was Thrym. “Why have you come to Jotunheim?” said the giant. ” I have come for Thor’s hammer,” replied Loke. ” Ho! ho! ho!” laughed the giant, ” the hammer is buried eight miles deep. I will give it to no one until he brings me Freyja for a wife.” Loke flew swiftly back to Asgard, and told Thor what the giant had said. Thor thought of nothing but his precious hammer. He rushed to Freyja and told her to make ready to go to Jotunheim. At this Freyja was so angry that Thor, big as he was, trembled and went out without saying anything more. Loke said, ” We will dress you up like a woman, and what a beautiful bride you will be.”So Thor had Freyja’s dress put on him, a necklace around his great throat, and a veil over his face. But oven then his eyes blazed like fire. Loke dressed himself like a maid, and they went to Jotunheim in Thor’s chariot. When Thrym saw them coming, he had a great feast prepared. Thor ate a whole ox and ten salmon. Thrym’s eyes stood out with surprise. But Loke whispered, ” Freyja longed so much to come to Jotunheim that she has eaten nothing for seven days.” At this Thrym was so pleased that he leaned over to look into her face. But he started back when he saw the blazing eyes. Loke said softly, “Freyja longed so much to come to Jotunheim that she has not slept for seven nights.” When the feast was over, Thrym brought the hammer and laid it in Freyja’s lap. The moment Thor’s fingers touched the handle he sprang up, tore the veil from his eyes, and drew back the hammer to strike. So angry was he that he laid the giant dead with one blow. Thor and Loke went away, leaving nothing but a heap of blazing sticks where the house had been.
Ten little prairie dogs, one day, long time ago, started up out of their hole with their drum. Their mother said: “Do not dance outside, my children, for if you do an eagle will swoop down upon you and eat you all up.”But the ten little prairie dogs only laughed and went on outside to dance. They sang as they danced:Sure enough while they were dancing around the hole, an eagle came down and swallowed them all. The last one she ate was the prairie dog with the drum and she swallowed him drum and all.Then the eagle went to get a drink of water. When she leaned down to drink, she felt very queer and she could hear a drum beating. It was the ten little prairie dogs dancing inside her. They danced so hard and made the eagle so sick that she finally fell over dead. Then all of the little prairie dogs came out again and ran home to tell their mother all about it.The next day the ten little prairie dogs started outside again to dance. “Do not go out, my children,” said their mother, “the Indians have set a trap for you. They will catch you and eat you if you go outside.”But the little prairie dogs only laughed and went outside again.“Let us go and see what a trap is like,” suggested one little prairie dog, so they all started over the prairie in search of a trap. They found one and all got caught in it. This time they never got back home to tell their mother all about it; for the Indians roasted and ate them.Note: Seama, a Laguna Pueblo
There was never in the whole world a more mischievous busy-body than that notorious giant Manabozho. He was every where, in season and out of season, running about, and putting his hand in whatever was going forward. To carry on his game, he could take almost any shape he pleased; he could be very foolish or very wise; very weak or very strong; very poor or very rich—just as happened to suit his humor best. Whatever any one else could do, he would attempt without a moment’s reflection. He was a match for any man he met, and there were few manitoes that could get the better of him. By turns he would be very kind, or very cruel; an animal or a bird; a man or a spirit; and yet, in spite of all these gifts, Manabozho was always getting himself involved in all sorts of troubles; and more than once, in the course of his busy adventures, was this great maker of mischief driven to his wits’ ends to come off with his life.To begin at the beginning, Manabozho, while yet a youngster, was living with his grandmother, near the edge of a wide prairie. It was on this prairie that he first saw animals and birds of every kind; he also there made first acquaintance with thunder and lightning; he would sit by the hour watching the clouds as they rolled, and musing on the shades of light and darkness as the day rose and fell.For a stripling, Manabozho was uncommonly wide-awake. Every new sight he beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark; every new animal or bird, an object of deep interest; and every sound that came from the bosom of nature, was like a new lesson which he was expected to learn. He often trembled at what he heard and saw.To the scene of the wide open prairie his grandmother sent him at an early age to watch. The first sound he heard was that of the owl, at which he was greatly terrified, and, quickly descending the tree he had climbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. “Noko! noko! grandmother!” he cried. “I have heard a monedo.”She laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of noise his reverence made. He answered, “It makes a noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho.”His grandmother told him he was young and foolish; that what he heard was only a bird which derived its name from the peculiar noise it made.He returned to the prairie and continued his watch. As he stood there looking at the clouds, he thought to himself, “It is singular that I am so simple and my grandmother so wise; and that I have neither father nor mother. I have never heard a word about them. I must ask and find out.”He went home and sat down, silent and dejected. Finding that this did not attract the notice of his grandmother, he began a loud lamentation, which he kept increasing, louder and louder, till it shook the lodge, and nearly deafened the old grandmother. She at length said, “Manabozho, what is the matter with you? You are making a great deal of noise.”Manabozho started off again with his doleful hubbub; but succeeded in jerking out between his big sobs, “I have n’t got any father nor mother; I have n’t;” and he set out again lamenting more boisterously than ever.Knowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful temper, his grandmother dreaded to tell him the story of his parentage; as she knew he would make trouble of it.Manabozho renewed his cries, and managed to throw out, for a third or fourth time, his sorrowful lament that he was a poor unfortunate, who had no parents and no relations.She at last said to him, “Yes, you have a father and three brothers living. Your mother is dead. She was taken for a wife by your father, the West, without the consent of her parents. Your brothers are the North, East, and South; and being older than yourself, your father has given them great power with the winds, according to their names. You are the youngest of his children. I have nursed you from your infancy; for your mother, owing to the ill-treatment of your father, died in giving you birth. I have no relations beside you this side of the planet in which I was born, and from which I was precipitated by female jealousy. Your mother was my only child, and you are my only hope.”“I am glad my father is living,” said Manabozho. “I shall set out in the morning to visit him.”His grandmother would have discouraged him; saying it was a long distance to the place where his father, Ningabiun, or the West, lived.This information seemed rather to please than to disconcert Manabozho; for by this time he had grown to such a size and strength that he had been compelled to leave the narrow shelter of his grandmother’s lodge and to live out of doors. He was so tall that, if he had been so disposed, he could have snapped off the heads of the birds roosting in the topmost branches of the highest trees, as he stood up, without being at the trouble to climb. And if he had at any time taken a fancy to one of the same trees for a walking-stick, he would have had no more to do than to pluck it up with his thumb and finger, and strip down the leaves and twigs with the palm of his hand.Bidding good-by to his venerable old grandmother, who pulled a very long face over his departure, Manabozho set out at great headway, for he was able to stride from one side of a prairie to the other at a single step.He found his father on a high mountain-ground, far in the west. His father espied his approach at a great distance, and bounded down the mountain-side several miles to give him welcome, and, side-by-side, apparently delighted with each other, they reached in two or three of their giant paces the lodge of the West, which stood high up near the clouds.They spent some days in talking with each other—for these two great persons did nothing on a small scale, and a whole day to deliver a single sentence, such was the immensity of their discourse, was quite an ordinary affair.One evening, Manabozho asked his father what he was most afraid of on earth.He replied—”Nothing.”“But is there nothing you dread, here—nothing that would hurt you if you took too much of it? Come, tell me.”Manabozho was very urgent; at last his father said:“Yes, there is a black stone to be found a couple of hundred miles from here, over that way,” pointing as he spoke. “It is the only thing earthly that I am afraid of, for if it should happen to hit me on any part of my body it would hurt me very much.”The West made this important circumstance known to Manabozho in the strictest confidence.“Now you will not tell any one, Manabozho, that the black stone is bad medicine for your father, will you?” he added. “You are a good son, and I know will keep it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling boy, is there not something that you don’t like?”Manabozho answered promptly—”Nothing.”His father, who was of a very steady and persevering temper, put the same question to him seventeen times, and each time Manabozho made the same answer—”Nothing.”But the West insisted—”There must be something you are afraid of.”“Well, I will tell you,” says Manabozho, “what it is.”He made an effort to speak, but it seemed to be too much for him.“Out with it,” said Ningabiun, or the West, fetching Manabozho such a blow on the back as shook the mountain with its echo.“Je-ee, je-ee—it is,” said Manabozho, apparently in great pain. “Yeo, yeo! I can not name it, I tremble so.”The West told him to banish his fears, and to speak up; no one would hurt him.Manabozho began again, and he would have gone over the same make-believe of anguish, had not his father, whose strength he knew was more than a match for his own, threatened to pitch him into a river about five miles off. At last he cried out:“Father, since you will know, it is the root of the bulrush.”He who could with perfect ease spin a sentence a whole day long, seemed to be exhausted by the effort of pronouncing that one word, “bulrush.”Some time after, Manabozho observed:“I will get some of the black rock, merely to see how it looks.”“Well,” said the father, “I will also get a little of the bulrush-root, to learn how it tastes.”They were both double-dealing with each other, and in their hearts getting ready for some desperate work.They had no sooner separated for the evening than Manabozho was striding off the couple of hundred miles necessary to bring him to the place where black rock was to be procured, while down the other side of the mountain hurried Ningabiun.At the break of day they each appeared at the great level on the mountain-top, Manabozho with twenty loads, at least, of the black stone, on one side, and on the other the West, with a whole meadow of bulrush in his arms.Manabozho was the first to strike—hurling a great piece of the black rock, which struck the West directly between the eyes, who returned the favor with a blow of bulrush, that rung over the shoulders of Manabozho, far and wide, like the whip-thong of the lightning among the clouds.And now either rallied, and Manabozho poured in a tempest of black rock, while Ningabiun discharged a shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, thwack upon thwack—they fought hand to hand until black rock and bulrush were all gone. Then they betook themselves to hurling crags at each other, cudgeling with huge oak-trees, and defying each other from one mountain-top to another; while at times they shot enormous boulders of granite across at each other’s heads, as though they had been mere jack-stones. The battle, which had commenced on the mountains, had extended far west. The West was forced to give ground. Manabozho pressing on, drove him across rivers and mountains, ridges and lakes, till at last he got him to the very brink of the world.“Hold!” cried the West. “My son, you know my power, and although I allow that I am now fairly out of breath, it is impossible to kill me. Stop where you are, and I will also portion you out with as much power as your brothers. The four quarters of the globe are already occupied, but you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of the earth, which is beset with serpents, beasts and monsters, who make great havoc of human life. Go and do good, and if you put forth half the strength you have to-day, you will acquire a name that will last forever. When you have finished your work I will have a place provided for you. You will then go and sit with your brother, Kabinocca, in the North.”Manabozho gave his father his hand upon this agreement. And parting from him, he returned to his own grounds, where he lay for some time sore of his wounds.These being, however, greatly allayed, and soon after cured by his grandmother’s skill in medicines, Manabozho, as big and sturdy as ever, was ripe for new adventures. He set his thoughts immediately upon a war excursion against the Pearl Feather, a wicked old manito, living on the other side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. He begun his preparations by making huge bows and arrows without number; but he had no heads for his shafts. At last Noko told him that an old man, who lived at some distance, could furnish him with such as he needed. He sent her to get some. She soon returned with her wrapper full. Manabozho told her that he had not enough, and sent her again. She came back with as many more. He thought to himself, “I must find out the way of making these heads.”Instead of directly asking how it was done, he preferred—just like Manabozho—to deceive his grandmother to come at the knowledge he desired, by a trick. “Noko,” said he, “while I take my drum and rattle, and sing my war-songs, do you go and try to get me some larger heads, for these you have brought me are all of the same size. Go and see whether the old man is not willing to make some a little larger.”He followed her at a distance as she went, having left his drum at the lodge, with a great bird tied at the top, whose fluttering should keep up the drumbeat, the same as if he were tarrying at home. He saw the old workman busy, and learned how he prepared the heads; he also beheld the old man’s daughter, who was very beautiful; and Manabozho now discovered for the first time that he had a heart of his own, and the sigh he heaved passed through the arrow-maker’s lodge like a gale of wind.“How it blows!” said the old man.“It must be from the south,” said the daughter; “for it is very fragrant.”Manabozho slipped away, and in two strides he was at home, shouting forth his songs as though he had never left the lodge. He had just time to free the bird which had been beating the drum, when his grandmother came in and delivered to him the big arrow-heads.In the evening the grandmother said, “My son, you ought to fast before you go to war, as your brothers do, to find out whether you will be successful or not.”He said he had no objection; and having privately stored away, in a shady place in the forest, two or three dozen juicy bears, a moose, and twenty strings of the tenderest birds, he would retire from the lodge so far as to be entirely out of view of his grandmother, fall to and enjoy himself heartily, and at night-fall, having just dispatched a dozen birds and half a bear or so, he would return, tottering and wo-begone, as if quite famished, so as to move deeply the sympathies of his wise old grand-dame.The place of his fast had been chosen by the Noko, and she had told him it must be so far as to be beyond the sound of her voice or it would be unlucky.After a time Manabozho, who was always spying out mischief, said to himself, “I must find out why my grandmother is so anxious to have me fast at this spot.”The next day he went but a short distance. She cried out, “A little further off;” but he came nearer to the lodge, the rogue that he was, and cried out in a low, counterfeited voice, to make it appear that he was going away instead of approaching. He had now got so near that he could see all that passed in the lodge.He had not been long in ambush when an old magician crept into the lodge. This old magician had very long hair, which hung across his shoulders and down his back, like a bush or foot-mat. They commenced talking about him, and in doing so, they put their two old heads so very close together that Manabozho was satisfied they were kissing each other. He was indignant that any one should take such a liberty with his venerable grandmother, and to mark his sense of the outrage, he touched the bushy hair of the old magician with a live coal which he had blown upon. The old magician had not time to kiss the old grandmother more than once again before he felt the flame; and jumping out into the air, it burned only the fiercer, and he ran, blazing like a fire-ball, across the prairie.Manabozho who had, meanwhile, stolen off to his fasting-place, cried out, in a heart-broken tone, and as if on the very point of starvation, “Noko! Noko! is it time for me to come home?”“Yes,” she cried. And when he came in she asked him, “Did you see any thing?”“Nothing,” he answered, with an air of childish candor; looking as much like a big simpleton as he could. The grandmother looked at him very closely and said no more.Manabozho finished his term of fasting; in the course of which he slyly dispatched twenty fat bears, six dozen birds, and two fine moose; sung his war-song, and embarked in his canoe, fully prepared for war. Beside weapons of battle, he had stowed in a large supply of oil.He traveled rapidly night and day, for he had only to will or speak, and the canoe went. At length he arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. He paused to view them; he observed that they were some distance apart, and that the flames which they constantly belched forth reached across the pass. He gave them a good morning, and began talking with them in a very friendly way; but they answered, “We know you, Manabozho; you can not pass.”He was not, however, to be put off so easily. Turning his canoe as if about to go back, he suddenly cried out with a loud and terrified voice:“What is that behind you?”The serpents, thrown off their guard, instantly turned their heads, and he in a moment glided past them.“Well,” said he, quietly, after he had got by, “how do you like my movement?”He then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim shot every one of them, easily, for the serpents were fixed to one spot, and could not even turn around. They were of an enormous length, and of a bright color.Having thus escaped the sentinel serpents, Manabozho pushed on in his canoe until he came to a part of the lake called Pitch-water, as whatever touched it was sure to stick fast. But Manabozho was prepared with his oil, and rubbing his canoe freely from end to end, he slipped through with ease, and he was the first person who had ever succeeded in passing through the Pitch-water.“There is nothing like a little oil to help one through pitch-water,” said Manabozho to himself.Now in view of land, he could see the lodge of the Shining Manito, high upon a distant hill.Putting his clubs and arrows in order, just at the dawn of day Manabozho began his attack, yelling and shouting, and beating his drum, and calling out in triple voices:“Surround him! surround him! run up! run up!” making it appear that he had many followers. He advanced, shouting aloud:“It was you that killed my grandfather,” and shot off a whole forest of arrows.The Pearl Feather appeared on the height, blazing like the sun, and paid back the discharges of Manabozho with a tempest of bolts, which rattled like the hail.All day long the fight was kept up, and Manabozho had fired all of his arrows but three, without effect; for the Shining Manito was clothed in pure wampum. It was only by immense leaps to right and left that Manabozho could save his head from the sturdy blows which fell about him on every side, like pine-trees, from the hands of the Manito. He was badly bruised, and at his very wit’s end, when a large woodpecker flew past and lit on a tree. It was a bird he had known on the prairie, near his grandmother’s lodge.“Manabozho,” called out the woodpecker, “your enemy has a weak point; shoot at the lock of hair on the crown of his head.”He shot his first arrow and only drew blood in a few drops. The Manito made one or two unsteady steps, but recovered himself. He began to parley, but Manabozho, now that he had discovered a way to reach him, was in no humor to trifle, and he let slip another arrow, which brought the Shining Manito to his knees. And now, having the crown of his head within good range, Manabozho sent in his third arrow, which laid the Manito out upon the ground, stark dead.Manabozho lifted up a huge war-cry, beat his drum, took the scalp of the Manito as his trophy, and calling the woodpecker to come and receive a reward for the timely hint he had given him, he rubbed the blood of the Shining Manito on the woodpecker’s head, the feathers of which are red to this day. Full of his victory, Manabozho returned home, beating his war-drum furiously, and shouting aloud his songs of triumph. His grandmother was on the shore ready to welcome him with the war-dance, which she performed with wonderful skill for one so far advanced in years.The heart of Manabozho swelled within him. He was fairly on fire, and an unconquerable desire for further adventures seized upon him. He had destroyed the powerful Pearl Feather, killed his serpents, and escaped all his wiles and charms. He had prevailed in a great land fight, his next trophy should be from the water.He tried his prowess as a fisherman, and with such success that he captured a fish so monstrous in size and so rich in fat that with the oil Manabozho was able to form a small lake. To this, being generously disposed, and having a cunning purpose of his own to answer, he invited all the birds and beasts of his acquaintance; and he made the order in which they partook of the banquet the measure of their fatness for all time to come. As fast as they arrived he told them to plunge in and help themselves.The first to make his appearance was the bear, who took a long and steady draught; then came the deer, the opossum, and such others of the family as are noted for their comfortable case. The moose and bison were slack in their cups, and the partridge, always lean in flesh, looked on till the supply was nearly gone. There was not a drop left by the time the hare and the martin appeared on the shore of the lake, and they are, in consequence, the slenderest of all creatures.When this ceremony was over, Manabozho suggested to his friends, the assembled birds and animals, that the occasion was proper for a little merrymaking; and taking up his drum, he cried out:“New songs from the South, come, brothers, dance!”He directed them, to make the sport more mirthful, that they should shut their eyes and pass around him in a circle. Again he beat his drum and cried out:“New songs from the South, come, brothers, dance!”They all fell in and commenced their rounds. Whenever Manabozho, as he stood in the circle, saw a fat fowl which he fancied, pass by him, he adroitly wrung its neck and slipped it in his girdle, at the same time beating his drum and singing at the top of his lungs, to drown the noise of the fluttering, and crying out in a tone of admiration:“That’s the way, my brothers; that’s the way!”At last a small duck, of the diver family, thinking there was something wrong, opened one eye and saw what Manabozho was doing. Giving a spring, and crying:“Ha-ha-a! Manabozho is killing us!” he made for the water.Manabozho, quite vexed that the creature should have played the spy upon his housekeeping, followed him, and just as the diver-duck was getting into the water, gave him a kick, which is the reason that the diver’s tail-feathers are few, his back flattened, and his legs straightened out, so that when he gets on land he makes a poor figure in walking.Meantime, the other birds, having no ambition to be thrust in Manabozho’s girdle, flew off, and the animals scampered into the woods.Manabozho stretching himself at ease in the shade along the side of the prairie, thought what he should do next. He concluded that he would travel and see new countries; and having once made up his mind, in less than three days, such was his length of limb and the immensity of his stride, he had walked over the entire continent, looked into every lodge by the way, and with such nicety of observation, that he was able to inform his good old grandmother what each family had for a dinner at a given hour.By way of relief to these grand doings, Manabozho was disposed to vary his experiences by bestowing a little time upon the sports of the woods. He had heard reported great feats in hunting, and he had a desire to try his power in that way. Besides that, it was a slight consideration that he had devoured all the game within reach of the lodge; and so, one evening, as he was walking along the shore of the great lake, weary and hungry, he encountered a great magician in the form of an old wolf, with six young ones, coming toward him.The wolf no sooner caught sight of him than he told his whelps, who were close about his side, to keep out of the way of Manabozho; “For I know,” he said, “that it is that mischievous fellow whom we see yonder.”The young wolves were in the act of running off, when Manabozho cried out, “My grandchildren, where are you going? Stop and I will go with you. I wish to have a little chat with your excellent father.”Saying which he advanced and greeted the old wolf, expressing himself as delighted at seeing him looking so well. “Whither do you journey?” he asked.“We are looking for a good hunting-ground to pass the winter,” the old wolf answered. “What brings you here?”“I was looking for you,” said Manabozho. “For I have a passion for the chase, brother. I always admired your family; are you willing to change me into a wolf?”The wolf gave him a favorable answer, and he was forthwith changed into a wolf.“Well, that will do,” said Manabozho; then looking at his tail, he added, “Oh! could you oblige me by making my tail a little longer and more bushy.”“Certainly,” said the old wolf; and he gave Manabozho such a length and spread of tail, that it was constantly getting between his legs, and it was so heavy that it was as much as he could do to find strength to carry it. But having asked for it, he was ashamed to say a word; and they all started off in company, dashing up a ravine.After getting into the woods for some distance, they fell in with the tracks of moose. The young ones scampered off in pursuit, the old wolf and Manabozho following at their leisure.“Well,” said the old wolf, by way of opening discourse, “who do you think is the fastest of the boys? Can you tell by the jumps they take?”“Why,” he replied, “that one that takes such long jumps, he is the fastest to be sure.”“Ha! ha! you are mistaken,” said the old wolf. “He makes a good start, but he will be the first to tire out; this one, who appears to be behind, will be the one to kill the game.”By this time they had come to the spot where the boys had started in chase. One had dropped what seemed to be a small medicine-sack, which he carried for the use of the hunting-party.“Take that, Manabozho,” said the old wolf.“Esa,” he replied, “what will I do with a dirty dog-skin?”The old wolf took it up; it was a beautiful robe.“Oh, I will carry it now,” cried Manabozho.“Oh, no,” said the old wolf, who had exerted his magical powers, “it is a robe of pearls. Come along!” And away sped the old wolf at a great rate of speed.“Not so fast,” called Manabozho after him; and then he added to himself as he panted after, “Oh, this tail!”Coming to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the young wolves had made a fresh start after their prey.“Why,” said the old wolf, “this moose is poor. I know by the traces; for I can always tell whether they are fat or not.”A little further on, one of the young wolves, in dashing at the moose, had broken a tooth on a tree.“Manabozho,” said the old wolf, “one of your grandchildren has shot at the game. Take his arrow; there it is.”“No,” replied Manabozho; “what will I do with a dirty dog’s tooth?”The old wolf took it up, and behold it was a beautiful silver arrow.When they at last overtook them, they found that the youngsters had killed a very fat moose. Manabozho was very hungry; but the old wolf just then again exerted his magical powers, and Manabozho saw nothing but the bones picked quite clean. He thought to himself, “Just as I expected; dirty, greedy fellows. If it had not been for this log at my back, I should have been in time to have got a mouthful:” and he cursed the bushy tail which he carried, to the bottom of his heart. He, however, sat down without saying a word.At length the old wolf spoke to one of the young ones, saying:“Give some meat to your grandfather.”One of them obeyed, and coming near to Manabozho, he presented him the other end of his own bushy tail, which was nicely seasoned with burs, gathered in the course of the hunt.Manabozho jumped up and called out:“You dog, now that your stomach is full, do you think I am going to eat you to get at my dinner? Get you gone into some other place.”Saying which Manabozho, in his anger, walked off by himself.“Come back, brother,” cried the wolf. “You are losing your eyes.”Manabozho turned back.“You do the child injustice. Look there!” and behold, a heap of fresh, ruddy meat, was lying on the spot, already prepared.Manabozho, at the view of so much good provision, put on a smiling face.“Amazement!” he said; “how fine the meat is!”“Yes,” replied the old wolf, “it is always so with us; we know our work, and always get the best. It is not a long tail that makes the hunter.”Manabozho bit his lip.They now fixed their winter quarters. The youngsters went out in search of game, and they soon brought in a large supply. One day, during the absence of the young hunters, the old wolf amused himself in cracking the large bones of a moose.“Manabozho,” said he, “cover your head with the robe, and do not look at me while I am busy with these bones, for a piece may fly in your eye.”He did as he was bid; but looking through a rent that was in the robe, he saw what the other was about. Just at that moment a piece flew off and hit him on the eye. He cried out:“Tyau, why do you strike me, you old dog?”The wolf answered—”You must have been looking at me.”“No, no,” retorted Manabozho, “why should I want to look at you?”“Manabozho,” said the old wolf, “you must have been looking or you would not have got hurt.”“No, no,” he replied again, “I was not. I will repay the saucy wolf this mischief,” he thought to himself.So the next day, taking up a bone to obtain the marrow, he said to the wolf:“Brother, cover your head and do not look at me, for I very much fear a piece may fly in your eye.”The wolf did so; and Manabozho, taking the large leg-bone of the moose, first looking to see if the wolf was well covered, hit him a blow with all his might. The wolf jumped up, cried out, and fell prostrate from the effects of the blow.“Why,” said he, when he came to a little and was able to sit up, “why do you strike me so?”“Strike you?” said Manabozho, with well-feigned surprise, “no; you must have been looking at me.”“No,” answered the wolf, “I say I have not.”But Manabozho insisted, and as the old wolf was no great master of tricky argument, he was obliged to give it up.Shortly after this the old wolf suggested to Manabozho that he should go out and try his luck in hunting by himself.When he chose to put his mind upon it he was quite expert, and this time he succeeded in killing a fine fat moose, which he thought he would take aside slyly, and devour alone, having prepared to tell the old wolf a pretty story on his return, to account for his failure to bring any thing with him.He was very hungry, and he sat down to eat; but as he never could go to work in a straight-forward way, he immediately fell into great doubts as to the proper point at which to begin.“Well,” said he, “I do not know where to commence. At the head? No. People will laugh, and say—’He ate him backward.'”He went to the side. “No,” said he, “they will say I ate him sideways.”He then went to the hind-quarter. “No, that will not do, either; they will say I ate him forward. I will begin here, say what they will.”He took a delicate piece from the small of the back, and was just on the point of putting it to his mouth, when a tree close by made a creaking noise. He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the morsel to his mouth the second time, when the tree creaked again.“Why,” he exclaimed, “I can not eat when I hear such a noise. Stop, stop!” he said to the tree. He put it down, exclaiming—”I can not eat with such a noise;” and starting away he climbed the tree, and was pulling at the limb which had offended him, when his fore-paw was caught between the branches so that he could not free himself.While thus held fast, he saw a pack of wolves ad vancing through the wood in the direction of his meat. He suspected them to be the old wolf and his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not make them out.“Go the other way, go the other way!” he cried out; “what would you come to get here?”The wolves stopped for a while and talked among themselves, and said:“Manabozho must have something there, or he would not tell us to go another way.”“I begin to know him,” said an old wolf, “and all his tricks. Let us go forward and see.”They came on; and finding the moose, they soon made away with it. Manabozho looked wistfully on to see them eat till they were fully satisfied, when they scampered off in high spirits.A heavy blast of wind opened the branches and released Manabozho, who found that the wolves had left nothing but the bare bones. He made for home, where, when he related his mishap, the old wolf, taking him by the fore-paw, condoled with him deeply on his ill-luck. A tear even started to his eye as he added:“My brother, this should teach us not to meddle with points of ceremony when we have good meat to eat.”The winter having by this time drawn fairly to a close, on a bright morning in the early spring, the old wolf addressed Manabozho: “My brother, I am obliged to leave you; and although I have sometimes been merry at your expense, I will show that I care for your comfort. I shall leave one of the boys behind me to be your hunter, and to keep you company through the long summer afternoons.”The old wolf galloped off with his five young ones; and as they disappeared from view, Manabozho was disenchanted in a moment, and returned to his mortal shape.Although he had been sometimes vexed and imposed upon, he had, altogether, passed a pleasant winter with the cunning old wolf, and now that he was gone, Manabozho was downcast and low in spirit. But as the days grew brighter he recovered by degrees his air of cheerful confidence, and was ready to try his hand upon any new adventure that might occur to him. The old spirit of mischief was still alive within him.The young wolf who had been left with him was a good hunter, and never failed to keep the lodge well supplied with meat. One day Manabozho addressed him as follows:“My grandson, I had a dream last night, and it does not portend good. It is of the large lake which lies in that direction. You must be careful to always go across it, whether the ice seem strong or not. Never go around it, for there are enemies on the further shore who lie in wait for you. The ice is always safe.”Now Manabozho knew well that the ice was thinning every day under the warm sun, but he could not stay himself from playing a trick upon the young wolf.In the evening when he came to the lake, after a long day’s travel in quest of game, the young wolf, confiding in his grandfather, said, “Hwooh! the ice does look thin, but Nesho says it is sound;” and he trotted upon the glassy plain.He had not got half way across when the ice snapped, and with a mournful cry, the young wolf fell in and was immediately seized by the water-serpents, who knew that it was Manabozho’s grandson, and were thirsting for revenge upon him for the death of their relations in the war upon Pearl Feather.Manabozho heard the young wolf’s cry as he sat in his lodge; he knew what had happened; and, from that moment, he was deprived of the greater part of his magical power.He returned, scarcely more than an ordinary mortal, to his former place of dwelling, whence his grandmother had departed no one knew whither. He married the arrow-maker’s daughter, and became the father of several children, and very poor. He was scarcely able to procure the means of living. His lodge was pitched in a remote part of the country, where he could get no game. It was winter, and he had not the common comforts of life. He said to his wife one day, “I will go out a walking and see if I can not find some lodges.”After walking some time he saw a lodge at a distance. The children were playing at the door. When they saw him approaching they ran in and told their parents that Manabozho was coming.It was the residence of the large red-headed woodpecker. He came to the door and asked Manabozho to enter. This invitation was promptly accepted.After some time, the woodpecker, who was a magician, said to his wife:“Have you nothing to give Manabozho? he must be hungry.”She answered, “No.”“He ought not to go without his supper,” said the woodpecker. “I will see what I can do.”In the center of the lodge stood a large tamarack-tree. Upon this the woodpecker flew, and commenced going up, turning his head on each side of the tree, and every now and then driving in his bill. At last he pulled something out of the tree and threw it down; when, behold, a fine fat raccoon lay on the ground. He drew out six or seven more. He then descended, and told his wife to prepare them.“Manabozho,” he said, “this is the only thing we eat; what else can we give you?”“It is very good,” replied Manabozho.They smoked their pipes and conversed with each other.After eating, Manabozho got ready to go home; when the woodpecker said to his wife, “Give him the other raccoons to take home for his children.”In the act of leaving the lodge, Manabozho, on purpose, dropped one of his mittens, which was soon after observed upon the ground.“Run,” said the woodpecker to his eldest son, “and give it to him; but mind that you do not give it into his hand; throw it at him, for there is no knowing him, he acts so curiously.”The boy did as he was directed.“Grandfather,” said he to Manabozho, as he came up to him, “you have left one of your mittens; here it is.”“Yes,” he said, affecting to be ignorant of the circumstance, “it is so; but don’t throw it, you will soil it on the snow.”The lad, however, threw it, and was about to return, when Manabozho cried out, “Bakah! Bakah! stop—stop; is that all you eat? Do you eat nothing else with your raccoon? tell me!”“Yes, that is all,” answered the young Woodpecker; “we have nothing else.”“Tell your father,” continued Manabozho, “to come and visit me, and let him bring a sack. I will give him what he shall eat with his raccoon-meat.”When the young one returned and reported this message to his father, the old woodpecker turned up his nose at the invitation. “I wonder,” he said, “what he thinks he has got, poor fellow!”He was bound, however, to answer the proffer of hospitality, and he went accordingly, taking along a cedar-sack, to pay a visit to Manabozho.Manabozho received the old red-headed woodpecker with great ceremony. He had stood at the door awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he came in sight Manabozho commenced, while he was yet far off, bowing and opening wide his arms, in token of welcome; all of which the woodpecker returned in due form, by ducking his bill, and hopping to right and left, upon the ground, extending his wings to their full length and fluttering them back to his breast.When the woodpecker at last reached the lodge, Manabozho made various remarks upon the weather, the appearance of the country, and especially on the scarcity of game.“But we,” he added, “we always have enough. Come in, and you shall not go away hungry, my noble bird!”Manabozho had always prided himself on being able to give as good as he had received; and to be up with the woodpecker, he had shifted his lodge so as to inclose a large dry tamarack-tree.“What can I give you,” said he to the woodpecker; “but as we eat so shall you eat.”With this he hopped forward, and, jumping on the tamarack-tree, he attempted to climb it just as he had seen the woodpecker do in his own lodge. He turned his head first on one side, then on the other, in the manner of the bird, meanwhile striving to go up, and as often slipping down. Ever and anon he would strike the tree with his nose, as if it had been a bill, and draw back, but he pulled out no raccoons; and he dashed his nose so often against the trunk that at last the blood began to flow, and he tumbled down senseless upon the ground.The woodpecker started up with his drum and rattle to restore him, and by beating them violently he succeeded in bringing him to.As soon as he came to his senses, Manabozho began to lay the blame of his failure upon his wife, saying to his guest:“Nemesho, it is this woman-relation of yours—she is the cause of my not succeeding. She has made me a worthless fellow. Before I took her I also could get raccoons.”The woodpecker said nothing, but flying on the tree he drew out several fine raccoons.“Here,” said he, “this is the way we do!” and left him in disdain, carrying his bill high in the air, and stepping over the door-sill as if it were not worthy to be touched by his toes.After this visit, Manabozho was sitting in the lodge one day with his head down. He heard the wind whistling around it, and thought that by attentively listening he could hear the voice of some one speaking to him. It seemed to say to him:“Great chief, why are you sorrowful? Am not I your friend—your guardian spirit?”Manabozho immediately took up his rattle, and without rising from the ground where he was sitting, began to sing the chant which has at every close the refrain of, “Wha lay le aw.”When he had dwelt for a long time on this peculiar chant, which he had been used to sing in all his times of trouble, he laid his rattle aside and determined to fast. For this purpose he went to a cave which faced the setting sun, and built a very small fire, near which he lay down, first telling his wife that neither she nor the children must come near him till he had finished his fast.At the end of seven days he came back to the lodge, pale and thin, looking like a spirit himself, and as if he had seen spirits. His wife had in the meantime dug through the snow and got a few of the root called truffles. These she boiled and set before him, and this was all the food they had or seemed likely to obtain.When he had finished his light repast, Manabozho took up his station in the door to see what would happen. As he stood thus, holding in his hand his large bow, with a quiver well filled with arrows, a deer glided past along the far edge of the prairie, but it was miles away, and no shaft that Manabozho could shoot would be able to touch it.Presently a cry came down the air, and looking up he beheld a great flight of birds, but they were so far up in the sky that he would have lost his arrows in a vain attempt among the clouds.Still he stood watchful, and confident that some turn of luck was about to occur, when there came near to the lodge two hunters, who bore between them on poles upon their shoulders, a bear, and it was so fine and fat a bear that it was as much as the two hunters could do with all their strength to carry it.As they came to the lodge-door, one of the hunters asked if Manabozho lived thereabout.“He is here,” answered Manabozho.“I have often heard of you,” said the first hunter, “and I was curious to see you. But you have lost your magical power. Do you know whether any of it is left?”Manabozho answered that he was himself in the dark on the subject.“Suppose you make a trial,” said the hunter.“What shall I do?” asked Manabozho.“There is my friend,” said the hunter, pointing to his companion, “who with me owns this bear which we are carrying home. Suppose you see if you can change him into a piece of rock.”“Very well,” said Manabozho; and he had scarcely spoken before the other hunter became a rock.“Now change him back again,” said the first hunter.“That I can’t do,” Manabozho answered; “there my power ends.”The hunter looked at the rock with a bewildered face.“What shall I do?” he asked. “This bear I can never carry alone, and it was agreed between my friend there and myself, that we should not divide it till we reached home. Can’t you change my friend back, Manabozho?”“I would like to oblige you,” answered Manabozho, “but it is utterly out of my power.”With this, looking again at the rock with a sad and bewildered face, and then casting a sorrowful glance at the bear, which lay by the door of the lodge, the hunter took his leave, bewailing bitterly at heart the loss of his friend and his bear.He was scarcely out of sight when Manabozho sent the children to get red willow sticks. Of these he cut off as many pieces, of equal length, as would serve to invite his friends among the beasts and birds to a feast. A red stick was sent to each one, not forgetting the woodpecker and his family.When they arrived they were astonished to see such an abundance of meat prepared for them at such a time of scarcity. Manabozho understood their glance, and was proud of a chance to make such a display.“Akewazi,” he said to the oldest of the party, “the weather is very cold, and the snow lasts a long time; we can kill nothing now but small squirrels, and they are all black; and I have sent for you to help me eat some of them.”The woodpecker was the first to try a mouthful of the bear’s meat, but he had no sooner began to taste it than it changed into a dry powder, and set him coughing. It appeared as bitter as ashes.The moose was affected in the same way, and it brought on such a dry cough as to shake every bone in his body.One by one, each in turn joined the company of coughers, except Manabozho and his family, to whom the bear’s meat proved very savory.But the visitors had too high a sense of what was due to decorum and good manners to say any thing. The meat looked very fine, and being keenly set and strongly tempted by its promising look, they thought they would try more of it. The more they ate the faster they coughed, and the louder became the uproar, until Manabozho, exerting the magical gift which he found he retained, changed them all into squirrels; and to this day the squirrel suffers from the same dry cough which was brought on by attempting to sup off of Manabozho’s ashen bear’s meat.And ever after this transformation, when Manabozho lacked provisions for his family he would hunt the squirrel, a supply of which never failed him, so that he was always sure to have a number of his friends present, in this shape, at the banquet.The rock into which he changed the hunter, and so became possessed of the bear, and thus laid the foundations of his good fortune, ever after remained by his lodge-door, and it was called the Game-Bag of Manabozho, the Mischief-Maker.
There was once a farmer who lived in great comfort. He had both lands and money, but, though he was so well off, one thing was wanting to complete his happiness; he had no children. Many and many a time, when he met other farmers at the nearest market town, they would teaze him, asking how it came about that he was childless. At length he grew so angry that he exclaimed: ‘I must and will have a child of some sort or kind, even should it only be a hedgehog!’Not long after this his wife gave birth to a child, but though the lower half of the little creature was a fine boy, from the waist upwards it was a hedgehog, so that when his mother first saw him she was quite frightened, and said to her husband, ‘There now, you have cursed the child yourself.’ The farmer said, ‘What’s the use of making a fuss? I suppose the creature must be christened, but I don’t see how we are to ask anyone to be sponsor to him, and what are we to call him?’‘There is nothing we can possibly call him but Jack my Hedgehog,’ replied the wife.So they took him to be christened, and the parson said: ‘You’ll never be able to put that child in a decent bed on account of his prickles.’ Which was true, but they shook down some straw for him behind the stove, and there he lay for eight years. His father grew very tired of him and often wished him dead, but he did not die, but lay on there year after year.Now one day there was a big fair at the market town to which the farmer meant to go, so he asked his wife what he should bring her from it. ‘Some meat and a couple of big loaves for the house,’ said she. Then he asked the maid what she wanted, and she said a pair of slippers and some stockings. Lastly he said, ‘Well, Jack my Hedgehog, and what shall I bring you?’‘Daddy,’ said he, ‘do bring me a bagpipe.’ When the farmer came home he gave his wife and the maid the things they had asked for, and then he went behind the stove and gave Jack my Hedgehog the bagpipes.When Jack had got his bagpipes he said, ‘Daddy, do go to the smithy and have the house cock shod for me; then I’ll ride off and trouble you no more.’ His father, who was delighted at the prospect of getting rid of him, had the cock shod, and when it was ready Jack my Hedgehog mounted on its back and rode off to the forest, followed by all the pigs and asses which he had promised to look after.Having reached the forest he made the cock fly up to the top of a very tall tree with him, and there he sat looking after his pigs and donkeys, and he sat on and on for several years till he had quite a big herd; but all this time his father knew nothing about him.As he sat up in his tree he played away on his pipes and drew the loveliest music from them. As he was playing one day a King, who had lost his way, happened to pass close by, and hearing the music he was much surprised, and sent one of his servants to find out where it came from. The man peered about, but he could see nothing but a little creature which looked like a cock with a hedgehog sitting on it, perched up in a tree. The King desired the servant to ask the strange creature why it sat there, and if it knew the shortest way to his kingdom.On this Jack my Hedgehog stepped down from his tree and said he would undertake to show the King his way home if the King on his part would give him his written promise to let him have whatever first met him on his return.The King thought to himself, ‘That’s easy enough to promise. The creature won’t understand a word about it, so I can just write what I choose.’So he took pen and ink and wrote something, and when he had done Jack my Hedgehog pointed out the way and the King got safely home.Now when the King’s daughter saw her father returning in the distance she was so delighted that she ran to meet him and threw herself into his arms. Then the King remembered Jack my Hedgehog, and he told his daughter how he had been obliged to give a written promise to bestow whatever he first met when he got home on an extraordinary creature which had shown him the way. The creature, said he, rode on a cock as though it had been a horse, and it made lovely music, but as it certainly could not read he had just written that he would _not_ give it anything at all. At this the Princess was quite pleased, and said how cleverly her father had managed, for that of course nothing would induce her to have gone off with Jack my Hedgehog.Meantime Jack minded his asses and pigs, sat aloft in his tree, played his bagpipes, and was always merry and cheery. After a time it so happened that another King, having lost his way, passed by with his servants and escort, wondering how he could find his way home, for the forest was very vast. He too heard the music, and told one of his men to find out whence it came. The man came under the tree, and looking up to the top there he saw Jack my Hedgehog astride on the cock.The servant asked Jack what he was doing up there. ‘I’m minding my pigs and donkeys; but what do you want?’ was the reply. Then the servant told him they had lost their way, and wanted some one to show it them. Down came Jack my Hedgehog with his cock, and told the old King he would show him the right way if he would solemnly promise to give him the first thing he met in front of his royal castle.The King said ‘Yes,’ and gave Jack a written promise to that effect.Then Jack rode on in front pointing out the way, and the King reached his own country in safety.Now he had an only daughter who was extremely beautiful, and who, delighted at her father’s return, ran to meet him, threw her arms round his neck and kissed him heartily. Then she asked where he had been wandering so long, and he told her how he had lost his way and might never have reached home at all but for a strange creature, half-man, half-hedgehog, which rode a cock and sat up in a tree making lovely music, and which had shown him the right way. He also told her how he had been obliged to pledge his word to give the creature the first thing which met him outside his castle gate, and he felt very sad at the thought that she had been the first thing to meet him.But the Princess comforted him, and said she should be quite willing to go with Jack my Hedgehog whenever he came to fetch her, because of the great love she bore to her dear old father.Jack my Hedgehog continued to herd his pigs, and they increased in number till there were so many that the forest seemed full of them. So he made up his mind to live there no longer, and sent a message to his father telling him to have all the stables and outhouses in the village cleared, as he was going to bring such an enormous herd that all who would might kill what they chose. His father was much vexed at this news, for he thought Jack had died long ago. Jack my Hedgehog mounted his cock, and driving his pigs before him into the village, he let every one kill as many as they chose, and such a hacking and hewing of pork went on as you might have heard for miles off.Then said Jack, ‘Daddy, let the blacksmith shoe my cock once more; then I’ll ride off, and I promise you I’ll never come back again as long as I live.’ So the father had the cock shod, and rejoiced at the idea of getting rid of his son.Then Jack my Hedgehog set off for the first kingdom, and there the King had given strict orders that if anyone should be seen riding a cock and carrying a bagpipe he was to be chased away and shot at, and on no account to be allowed to enter the palace. So when Jack my Hedgehog rode up the guards charged him with their bayonets, but he put spurs to his cock, flew up over the gate right to the King’s windows, let himself down on the sill, and called out that if he was not given what had been promised him, both the King and his daughter should pay for it with their lives. Then the King coaxed and entreated his daughter to go with Jack and so save both their lives.The Princess dressed herself all in white, and her father gave her a coach with six horses and servants in gorgeous liveries and quantities of money. She stepped into the coach, and Jack my Hedgehog with his cock and pipes took his place beside her. They both took leave, and the King fully expected never to set eyes on them again. But matters turned out very differently from what he had expected, for when they had got a certain distance from the town Jack tore all the Princess’s smart clothes off her, and pricked her all over with his bristles, saying: ‘That’s what you get for treachery. Now go back, I’ll have no more to say to you.’ And with that he hunted her home, and she felt she had been disgraced and put to shame till her life’s end.Then Jack my Hedgehog rode on with his cock and bagpipes to the country of the second King to whom he had shown the way. Now this King had given orders that, in the event of Jack’s coming the guards were to present arms, the people to cheer, and he was to be conducted in triumph to the royal palace.When the King’s daughter saw Jack my Hedgehog, she was a good deal startled, for he certainly was very peculiar looking; but after all she considered that she had given her word and it couldn’t be helped. So she made Jack welcome and they were betrothed to each other, and at dinner he sat next her at the royal table, and they ate and drank together.When they retired to rest the Princess feared lest Jack should kiss her because of his prickles, but he told her not to be alarmed as no harm should befall her. Then he begged the old King to place a watch of four men just outside his bedroom door, and to desire them to make a big fire. When he was about to lie down in bed he would creep out of his hedgehog skin, and leave it lying at the bedside; then the men must rush in, throw the skin into the fire, and stand by till it was entirely burnt up.And so it was, for when it struck eleven, Jack my Hedgehog went to his room, took off his skin and left it at the foot of the bed. The men rushed in, quickly seized the skin and threw it on the fire, and directly it was all burnt Jack was released from his enchantment and lay in his bed a man from head to foot, but quite black as though he had been severely scorched.The King sent off for his physician in ordinary, who washed Jack all over with various essences and salves, so that he became white and was a remarkably handsome young man. When the King’s daughter saw him she was greatly pleased, and next day the marriage ceremony was performed, and the old King bestowed his kingdom on Jack my Hedgehog.After some years Jack and his wife went to visit his father, but the farmer did not recognize him, and declared he had no son; he had had one, but that one was born with bristles like a hedgehog, and had gone off into the wide world. Then Jack told his story, and his old father rejoiced and returned to live with him in his kingdom.
Not far from the clear stream Gudenau, in North Jutland, in the forestwhich extends by its banks and far into the country, a great ridge ofland rises and stretches along like a wall through the wood. By thisridge, westward, stands a farmhouse, surrounded by poor land; thesandy soil is seen through the spare rye and wheat-ears that grow uponit. Some years have elapsed since the time of which we speak. Thepeople who lived here cultivated the fields, and moreover kept threesheep, a pig, and two oxen; in fact, they supported themselves quitecomfortably, for they had enough to live on if they took things asthey came. Indeed, they could have managed to save enough to keep twohorses; but, like the other peasants of the neighbourhood, they said,“The horse eats itself up”–that is to say, it eats as much as itearns. Jeppe-Jäns cultivated his field in summer. In the winter hemade wooden shoes, and then he had an assistant, a journeyman, whounderstood as well as he himself did how to make the wooden shoesstrong, and light, and graceful. They carved shoes and spoons, andthat brought in money. It would have been wronging the Jeppe-Jänses tocall them poor people.Little Ib, a boy seven years old, the only child of the family, wouldsit by, looking at the workmen, cutting at a stick, and occasionallycutting his finger. But one day Ib succeeded so well with two piecesof wood, that they really looked like little wooden shoes; and thesehe wanted to give to little Christine. And who was little Christine?She was the boatman’s daughter, and was graceful and delicate as agentleman’s child; had she been differently dressed, no one would haveimagined that she came out of the hut on the neighbouring heath. Therelived her father, who was a widower, and supported himself by carryingfirewood in his great boat out of the forest to the estate ofSilkeborg, with its great eel-pond and eel-weir, and sometimes even tothe distant little town of Randers. He had no one who could take careof little Christine, and therefore the child was almost always withhim in his boat, or in the forest among the heath plants and barberrybushes. Sometimes, when he had to go as far as the town, he wouldbring little Christine, who was a year younger than Ib, to stay at theJeppe-Jänses.Ib and Christine agreed very well in every particular: they dividedtheir bread and berries when they were hungry, they dug in the groundtogether for treasures, and they ran, and crept, and played abouteverywhere. And one day they ventured together up the high ridge, anda long way into the forest; once they found a few snipes’ eggs there,and that was a great event for them.Ib had never been on the heath where Christine’s father lived, nor hadhe ever been on the river. But even this was to happen; forChristine’s father once invited him to go with them; and on theevening before the excursion, he followed the boatman over the heathto the house of the latter.Next morning early, the two children were sitting high up on the pileof firewood in the boat, eating bread and whistleberries. Christine’sfather and his assistant propelled the boat with staves. They had thecurrent with them, and swiftly they glided down the stream, throughthe lakes it forms in its course, and which sometimes seemed shut inby reeds and water plants, though there was always room for them topass, and though the old trees bent quite forward over the water, andthe old oaks bent down their bare branches, as if they had turned uptheir sleeves and wanted to show their knotty naked arms. Old aldertrees, which the stream had washed away from the bank, clung withtheir fibrous roots to the bottom of the stream, and looked likelittle wooded islands. The water-lilies rocked themselves on theriver. It was a splendid excursion; and at last they came to the greateel-weir, where the water rushed through the flood-gates; and Ib andChristine thought this was beautiful to behold.In those days there was no manufactory there, nor was there any town;only the old great farmyard, with its scanty fields, with fewservants and a few head of cattle, could be seen there; and therushing of the water through the weir and the cry of the wild duckswere the only signs of life in Silkeborg. After the firewood had beenunloaded, the father of Christine bought a whole bundle of eels and aslaughtered sucking-pig, and all was put into a basket and placed inthe stern of the boat. Then they went back again up the stream; butthe wind was favourable, and when the sails were hoisted, it was asgood as if two horses had been harnessed to the boat.When they had arrived at a point in the stream where theassistant-boatman dwelt, a little way from the bank, the boat wasmoored, and the two men landed, after exhorting the children to sitstill. But the children did not do that; or at least they obeyed onlyfor a very short time. They must be peeping into the basket in whichthe eels and the sucking-pig had been placed, and they must needs pullthe sucking-pig out, and take it in their hands, and feel and touch itall over; and as both wanted to hold it at the same time, it came topass that they let it fall into the water, and the sucking-pig driftedaway with the stream–and here was a terrible event!Ib jumped ashore, and ran a little distance along the bank, andChristine sprang after him.“Take me with you!” she cried.And in a few minutes they were deep in the thicket, and could nolonger see either the boat or the bank. They ran on a little farther,and then Christine fell down on the ground and began to cry; but Ibpicked her up.“Follow me!” he cried. “Yonder lies the house.”But the house was not yonder. They wandered on and on, over the dry,rustling, last year’s leaves, and over fallen branches that crackledbeneath their feet. Soon they heard a loud piercing scream. They stoodstill and listened, and presently the scream of an eagle soundedthrough the wood. It was an ugly scream, and they were frightened atit; but before them, in the thick wood, the most beautiful blueberriesgrew in wonderful profusion. They were so inviting, that the childrencould not do otherwise than stop; and they lingered for some time,eating the blueberries till they had quite blue mouths and bluecheeks. Now again they heard the cry they had heard before.“We shall get into trouble about the pig,” said Christine.“Come, let us go to our house,” said Ib; “it is here in the wood.”And they went forward. They presently came to a wood, but it did notlead them home; and darkness came on, and they were afraid. Thewonderful stillness that reigned around was interrupted now and thenby the shrill cries of the great horrid owl and of the birds that werestrange to them. At last they both lost themselves in a thicket.Christine cried, and Ib cried too; and after they had bemoanedthemselves for a time, they threw themselves down on the dry leaves,and went fast asleep.The sun was high in the heavens when the two children awoke. They werecold; but in the neighbourhood of this resting-place, on the hill, thesun shone through the trees, and there they thought they would warmthemselves; and from there Ib fancied they would be able to see hisparents’ house. But they were far away from the house in question, inquite another part of the forest. They clambered to the top of therising ground, and found themselves on the summit of a slope runningdown to the margin of a transparent lake. They could see fish in greatnumbers in the pure water illumined by the sun’s rays. This spectaclewas quite a sudden surprise for them; but close beside them grew a nutbush covered with the finest nuts; and now they picked the nuts, andcracked them, and ate the delicate young kernels, which had only justbecome perfect. But there was another surprise and another fright instore for them. Out of the thicket stepped a tall old woman; her facewas quite brown, and her hair was deep black and shining. The whitesof her eyes gleamed like a negro’s; on her back she carried a bundle,and in her hand she bore a knotted stick. She was a gipsy. Thechildren did not at once understand what she said. She brought threenuts out of her pocket, and told them that in these nuts the mostbeautiful, the loveliest things were hidden; for they werewishing-nuts.Ib looked at her, and she seemed so friendly, that he plucked upcourage and asked her if she would give him the nuts; and the womangave them to him, and gathered some more for herself, a wholepocketful, from the nut bush.And Ib and Christine looked at the wishing-nuts with great eyes.“Is there a carriage with a pair of horses in this nut?” he asked.“Yes, there’s a golden carriage with two horses,” answered the woman.“Then give me the nut,” said little Christine.And Ib gave it to her, and the strange woman tied it in herpocket-handkerchief for her.“Is there in this nut a pretty little neckerchief, like the oneChristine wears round her neck?” inquired Ib.“There are ten neckerchiefs in it,” answered the woman. “There arebeautiful dresses in it, and stockings, and a hat with a veil.”“Then I will have that one too,” cried little Christine.And Ib gave her the second nut also. The third was a little blackthing.“That one you can keep,” said Christine; “and it is a pretty one too.”“What is in it?” inquired Ib.“The best of all things for you,” replied the gipsy-woman.And Ib held the nut very tight. The woman promised to lead thechildren into the right path, so that they might find their way home;and now they went forward, certainly in quite a different directionfrom the path they should have followed. But that is no reason why weshould suspect the gipsy-woman of wanting to steal the children. Inthe wild wood-path they met the forest bailiff, who knew Ib; and byhis help, Ib and Christine both arrived at home, where their friendshad been very anxious about them. They were pardoned and forgiven,although they had indeed both deserved “to get into trouble;” firstly,because they had let the sucking-pig fall into the water, andsecondly, because they had run away.Christine was taken back to her father on the heath, and Ib remainedin the farmhouse on the margin of the wood by the great ridge. Thefirst thing he did in the evening was to bring forth out of his pocketthe little black nut, in which “the best thing of all” was said to beenclosed. He placed it carefully in the crack of the door, and thenshut the door so as to break the nut; but there was not much kernel init. The nut looked as if it were filled with tobacco or black richearth; it was what we call hollow, or worm-eaten.“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought,” said Ib. “How could the verybest thing be contained in this little nut? And Christine will getjust as little out of her two nuts, and will have neither fine clothesnor the golden carriage.”And winter came on, and the new year began; indeed, several years wentby.Ib was at last to be confirmed; and for this reason he went during awhole winter to the clergyman, far away in the nearest village, toprepare. About this time the boatman one day visited Ib’s parents, andtold them that Christine was now going into service, and that she hadbeen really fortunate in getting a remarkably good place, and fallinginto worthy hands.“Only think,” he said; “she is going to the rich innkeeper’s, in theinn at Herning, far towards the west, many miles from here. She is toassist the hostess in keeping the house; and afterwards, if she takesto it well, and stays to be confirmed there, the people are going toadopt her as their own daughter.”And Ib and Christine took leave of one another. People called them“the betrothed;” and at parting, the girl showed Ib that she had stillthe two nuts which he had given her long ago, during their wanderingsin the forest; and she told him, moreover, that in a drawer she hadcarefully kept the little wooden shoes which he had carved as apresent for her in their childish days. And thereupon they parted.Ib was confirmed. But he remained in his mother’s house, for he hadbecome a clever maker of wooden shoes, and in summer he looked afterthe field. He did it all alone, for his mother kept no farm-servant,and his father had died long ago.Only seldom he got news of Christine from some passing postillion oreel-fisher. But she was well off at the rich innkeeper’s; and aftershe had been confirmed, she wrote a letter to her father, and sent akind message to Ib and his mother; and in the letter there was mentionmade of certain linen garments and a fine new gown, which Christinehad received as a present from her employers. This was certainly goodnews.Next spring, there was a knock one day at the door of our Ibis oldmother, and behold, the boatman and Christine stepped into the room.She had come on a visit to spend a day: a carriage had to come fromthe Herning Inn to the next village, and she had taken the opportunityto see her friends once again. She looked as handsome as a real lady,and she had a pretty gown on, which had been well sewn, and madeexpressly for her. There she stood, in grand array, and Ib was in hisworking clothes. He could not utter a word: he certainly seized herhand, and held it fast in his own, and was heartily glad; but he couldnot get his tongue to obey him. Christine was not embarrassed,however, for she went on talking and talking, and, moreover, kissed Ibon his mouth in the heartiest manner.“Did you know me again directly, Ib?” she asked; but even afterwards,when they were left quite by themselves, and he stood there stillholding her hand in his, he could only say:“You look quite like a real lady, and I am so uncouth. How often Ihave thought of you, Christine, and of the old times!”And arm in arm they sauntered up the great ridge, and looked acrossthe stream towards the heath, towards the great hills overgrown withbloom. It was perfectly silent; but by the time they parted it hadgrown quite clear to him that Christine must be his wife. Had theynot, even in their childhood, been called the betrothed pair? To himthey seemed to be really engaged to each other, though neither of themhad spoken a word on the subject. Only for a few more hours could theyremain together, for Christine was obliged to go back into the nextvillage, from whence the carriage was to start early next morning forHerning. Her father and Ib escorted her as far as the village. It wasa fair moonlight evening, and when they reached their destination, andIb still held Christine’s hand in his own, he could not make up hismind to let her go. His eyes brightened, but still the words camehalting over his lips. Yet they came from the depths of his heart,when he said:“If you have not become too grand, Christine, and if you can make upyour mind to live with me in my mother’s house as my wife, we mustbecome a wedded pair some day; but we can wait awhile yet.”“Yes, let us wait for a time, Ib,” she replied; and he kissed herlips. “I confide in you, Ib,” said Christine; “and I think that I loveyou–but I will sleep upon it.”And with that they parted. And on the way home Ib told the boatmanthat he and Christine were as good as betrothed; and the boatmandeclared he had always expected it would turn out so; and he went homewith Ib, and remained that night in the young man’s house; but nothingfurther was said of the betrothal.A year passed by, in the course of which two letters were exchangedbetween Ib and Christine. The signature was prefaced by the words,“Faithful till death!” One day the boatman came into Ib, and broughthim a greeting from Christine. What he had further to say was broughtout in somewhat hesitating fashion, but it was to the effect thatChristine was almost more than prosperous, for she was a pretty girl,courted and loved. The son of the host had been home on a visit; hewas employed in the office of some great institution in Copenhagen;and he was very much pleased with Christine, and she had taken a fancyto him: his parents were ready to give their consent, but Christinewas very anxious to retain Ib’s good opinion; “and so she had thoughtof refusing this great piece of good fortune,” said the boatman.At first Ib said not a word; but he became as white as the wall, andslightly shook his head. Then he said slowly:“Christine must not refuse this advantageous offer.”“Then do you write a few words to her,” said the boatman.And Ib sat down to write; but he could not manage it well: the wordswould not come as he wished them; and first he altered, and then hetore up the page; but the next morning a letter lay ready to be sentto Christine, and it contained the following words: “I have read the letter you have sent to your father, andgather from it that you are prospering in all things, andthat there is a prospect of higher fortune for you. Ask yourheart, Christine, and ponder well the fate that awaits you,if you take me for your husband; what I possess is butlittle. Do not think of me, or my position, but think ofyour own welfare. You are bound to me by no promise, and ifin your heart you have given me one, I release you from it.May all treasures of happiness be poured out upon you,Christine. Heaven will console me in its own good time. “Ever your sincere friend,And the letter was dispatched, and Christine duly received it.In the course of that November her banns were published in the churchon the heath, and in Copenhagen, where her bridegroom lived; and toCopenhagen she proceeded, under the protection of her futuremother-in-law, because the bridegroom could not undertake the journeyinto Jutland on account of his various occupations. On the journey,Christine met her father in a certain village; and here the two tookleave of one another. A few words were mentioned concerning this fact,but Ib made no remark upon it: his mother said he had grown verysilent of late; indeed, he had become very pensive, and thus the threenuts came into his mind which the gipsy-woman had given him long ago,and of which he had given two to Christine. Yes, it seemed right–theywere wishing-nuts, and in one of them lay a golden carriage with twohorses, and in the other very elegant clothes; all those luxurieswould now be Christine’s in the capital. Her part had thus come true.And to him, Ib, the nut had offered only black earth. The gipsy-womanhad said, this was “the best of all for him.” Yes, it was right, thatalso was coming true. The black earth was the best for him. Now heunderstood clearly what had been the woman’s meaning. In the blackearth, in the dark grave, would be the best happiness for him.And once again years passed by, not very many, but they seemed longyears to Ib. The old innkeeper and his wife died, one after the other;the whole of their property, many thousands of dollars, came to theson. Yes, now Christine could have the golden carriage, and plenty offine clothes.During the two long years that followed no letter came from Christine;and when her father at length received one from her, it was notwritten in prosperity, by any means. Poor Christine! neither she norher husband had understood how to keep the money together; and thereseemed to be no blessing with it, because they had not sought it.And again the weather bloomed and faded. The winter had swept for manyyears across the heath, and over the ridge beneath which Ib dwelt,sheltered from the rough winds. The spring sun shone bright, and Ibguided the plough across his field, when one day it glided over whatappeared to be a fire stone. Something like a great black ship cameout of the ground, and when Ib took it up it proved to be a piece ofmetal; and the place from which the plough had cut the stone gleamedbrightly with ore. It was a great golden armlet of ancient workmanshipthat he had found. He had disturbed a “Hun’s Grave,” and discoveredthe costly treasure buried in it. Ib showed what he had found to theclergyman, who explained its value to him, and then he betook himselfto the local judges, who reported the discovery to the keeper of themuseum, and recommended Ib to deliver up the treasure in person.“You have found in the earth the best thing you could find,” said thejudge.“The best thing!” thought Ib. “The very best thing for me, and foundin the earth! Well, if that is the best, the gipsy-woman was correctin what she prophesied to me.”So Ib travelled with the ferry-boat from Aarhus to Copenhagen. To him,who had but once or twice passed beyond the river that rolled by hishome, this seemed like a voyage across the ocean. And he arrived inCopenhagen.The value of the gold he had found was paid over to him; it was alarge sum–six hundred dollars. And Ib of the heath wandered about inthe great capital.On the day on which he had settled to go back with the captain, Iblost his way in the streets, and took quite a different direction fromthe one he intended to follow. He had wandered into the suburb ofChristianhaven, into a poor little street. Not a human being was to beseen. At last a very little girl came out of one of the wretchedhouses. Ib inquired of the little one the way to the street which hewanted; but she looked shyly at him, and began to cry bitterly. Heasked her what ailed her, but could not understand what she said inreply. But as they went along the street together, they passed beneaththe light of a lamp; and when the light fell on the girl’s face, hefelt a strange and sharp emotion, for Christine stood bodily beforehim, just as he remembered her from the days of his childhood.And he went with the little maiden into the wretched house, andascended the narrow, crazy staircase, which led to a little atticchamber in the roof. The air in this chamber was heavy and almostsuffocating: no light was burning; but there was heavy sighing andmoaning in one corner. Ib struck a light with the help of a match. Itwas the mother of the child who lay sighing on the miserable bed.“Can I be of any service to you?” asked Ib. “This little girl hasbrought me up here, but I am a stranger in this city. Are there noneighbours or friends whom I could call to you?” And he raised thesick woman’s head, and smoothed her pillow.It was Christine of the heath!For years her name had not been mentioned yonder, for the mention ofher would have disturbed Ib’s peace of mind, and rumour had toldnothing good concerning her. The wealth which her husband hadinherited from his parents had made him proud and arrogant. He hadgiven up his certain appointment, had travelled for half a year inforeign lands, and on his return had incurred debts, and yet lived inan expensive fashion. His carriage had bent over more and more, so tospeak, until at last it turned over completely. The many merrycompanions and table-friends he had entertained declared it served himright, for he had kept house like a madman; and one morning his corpsewas found in the canal.The icy hand of death was already on Christine. Her youngest child,only a few weeks old, expected in prosperity and born in misery, wasalready in its grave, and it had come to this with Christine herself,that she lay, sick to death and forsaken, in a miserable room, amid apoverty that she might well have borne in her childish days, but whichnow oppressed her painfully, since she had been accustomed to betterthings. It was her eldest child, also a little Christine, that heresuffered hunger and poverty with her, and whom Ib had now broughthome.“I am unhappy at the thought of dying and leaving the poor child herealone,” she said. “Ah, what is to become of the poor thing?” And not aword more could she utter.And Ib brought out another match, and lighted up a piece of candle hefound in the room, and the flame illumined the wretched dwelling. AndIb looked at the little girl, and thought how Christine had lookedwhen she was young; and he felt that for her sake he would be fond ofthis child, which was as yet a stranger to him. The dying woman gazedat him, and her eyes opened wider and wider–did she recognize him? Henever knew, for no further word passed over her lips.And it was in the forest by the river Gudenau, in the region of theheath. The air was thick and dark, and there were no blossoms on theheath plant; but the autumn tempests whirled the yellow leaves fromthe wood into the stream, and out over the heath towards the hut ofthe boatman, in which strangers now dwelt; but beneath the ridge, safebeneath the protection of the high trees, stood the little farm,trimly whitewashed and painted, and within it the turf blazed upcheerily in the chimney; for within was sunlight, the beaming sunlightof a child’s two eyes; and the tones of the spring birds sounded inthe words that came from the child’s rosy lips: she sat on Ib’s knee,and Ib was to her both father and mother, for her own parents weredead, and had vanished from her as a dream vanishes alike fromchildren and grown men. Ib sat in the pretty neat house, for he was aprosperous man, while the mother of the little girl rested in thechurchyard at Copenhagen, where she had died in poverty.Ib had money, and was said to have provided for the future. He had wongold out of the black earth, and he had a Christine for his own, afterall.
A Fly alighted one night upon a pot of honey, and finding it very much to his taste, began to eat it along the edges.Little by little, however, he had soon crept away from the edge and into the jar, until at last he found himself stuck fast. His legs and wings had become so smeared with the honey that he could not use them.Just then a Moth flew by, and seeing him struggling there, said: “Oh, you foolish Fly! Were you so greedy as to be caught like that? Your appetite was too much for you.”The poor Fly had nothing to say in reply. What the Moth said was true. But by and by, when evening came, he saw the Moth flying round a lighted candle in the giddiest way, and each time a little closer to the flame, until at last he flew straight into it and was burned.“What!” said the Fly, “are you foolish, too? You found fault with me for being too fond of honey; yet all your wisdom did not keep you from playing with fire.” It is sometimes easier to see the foolishness of others than to detect our own.
There was once a man who had a dog. While the dog was young he was made much of, but when he grew old he was driven out of doors. So he went and lay outside the fence, and a wolf came up to him and said, “Doggy, why so down in the mouth?”––“While I was young,” said the dog, “they made much of me; but now that I am old they beat me.” The wolf said, “I see thy master in the field; go after him, and perchance he’ll give thee something.”––“Nay,” said the dog, “they won’t even let me walk about the fields now, they only beat me.”––“Look now,” said the wolf, “I’m sorry, and will make things better for thee. Thy mistress, I see, has put her child down beneath that wagon. I’ll seize it, and make off with it. Run thou after me and bark, and though thou hast no teeth left, touzle me as much as thou canst, so that thy mistress may see it.”So the wolf seized the child, and ran away with it, and the dog ran after him, and began to touzle him. His mistress saw it, and made after them with a harrow, crying at the same time, “Husband, husband! the wolf has got the child! Gabriel, Gabriel! don’t you see? The wolf has got the child!” Then the man chased the wolf, and got back the child. “Brave old dog!” said he; “you are old and toothless, and yet you can give help in time of need, and will not let your master’s child be stolen.” And henceforth the woman and her husband gave the old dog a large lump of bread every day.
On the bank of a stream far in the West, Owl-man lived long ago in a little house under the ground. He had very strange habits. He always kept away from the Great Water and he dwelt for the most part in the forest. He had very few friends, and he usually went hunting by himself. He lived on toads and frogs and flies. He would say but little, and when other people sat around him talking pleasantly, he was always silent, gazing into space with wide-open eyes, and trying to look wiser than he really was. Because of this, people thought he was very strange, and stories about him soon spread far and wide. It was said that he was very cruel, and that he was silent because he was always brooding over his past wickedness or thinking about some evil deed he was soon going to do. And when children were troublesome or disobedient, their mothers always frightened them into goodness by saying, “The Owl-man from the stream will come and take you if you do not mend your ways.” And although the Owl-man was a solitary fellow he thus had great influence in all the land.Not far away lived a man and a woman who had one adopted daughter. Because she was the only child in the house, she was much petted, and she was never satisfied, and she cried and fretted all the time, and kept always asking for things she could not get. She disturbed all the neighbors round about so that they could not sleep because of her constant wailing and complaining. At last her foster parents grew tired of her weeping and they said, “The Owl-man will carry you off if you do not stop crying.” But still she pouted and fretted. And the old man of the house said, “I wish the Owl-man would come and take her away.” Now the old man was a great magician, and as he wished, so it came to pass.That evening it happened that the people were gathered at a feast of shellfish on the beach by the bright moonlight, as was their weekly custom. But the sorrowful girl would not go with the others. She stayed at home and sulked. As she sat alone in the house, old Owl-man came along carrying his basket full of toads and frogs. The girl was still crying when he came in. “I have come for you,” he said, “as the old man wished.”And he put her in his basket with the toads and frogs and carried her off. She yelled and kicked and scratched, but the lid of the basket was tightly closed and Owl-man laughed to himself and said, “Now I have a wife at last. I shall be alone no more, and the people will not think I am so strange.” So he took her to his underground house by the stream. That night the people noticed that the girl’s cries were no longer heard and they said, “What can have cured Sour-face; what can have pleased Cry-Baby into silence?” And the girl’s foster mother wondered where she had gone. But only the old man knew that it had happened as he had wished, because of his magic power, and that Owl-man had taken her away.The girl was not happy in her new home, for she would not be happy in any place. She still kept up her caterwauling and there was no peace in the house. Owl-man was a great hunter. Every day he went out hunting with his big basket on his arm, but he always locked his wife in the house before he went away. He was always very successful in the chase, and each night he came back with his basket full of toads and frogs and field-mice and flies. But his wife would eat none of them and she threw them in his face when he offered them to her, and said in a bad temper, “I will not eat your filthy food. It is not fit food for gentle-folk.” And Owl-man said, “Gentle-folk indeed! You should find a more suitable name; you are not gentle; you are a wild evil thing, but I am going to tame you.” And the girl wept again and sulked and stamped her feet in her temper.At last the girl became very hungry, for there was little to eat except the food that Owl-man brought home for himself. He gathered a few berries for her, but even these did not satisfy her hunger. So she thought out a plan of escape. One day when Owl-man was away, she took some oil she found in the house and rubbed it all over her face and hair. When Owl-man came home in the evening, he said, “You are very pretty tonight. What have you done to make yourself look so sleek and shiny?”And she answered, “I have put on my face and hair gum which I picked from the trees last night when I went walking with you.”And he said, “I should like to put some on too, for perhaps it would make me beautiful.” The girl told him that if he would go out and gather some gum she would put it on his face and hair for him. So he went out and gathered a great store of gum from the trees and brought it back to her. She melted it on a hot stove until it was balsam again and would pour easily out.Then she said, “Shut your eyes so that it will not harm your sight, and I will make your face and hair beautiful and shining like mine.”Owl-man shut his eyes, and the girl soon covered his face and head with the soft gum. She put it on very thick, and she said, “Keep your eyes shut until it dries or it may blind you.” Owl-man did as he was told, but when the gum dried he could not open his eyes, and while he was trying to rub it off, the girl slipped out the door and ran back to her parents, far away by the Great Water.Owl-man scraped the gum from his face and head as best he could, and when he could open his eyes again and could see pretty well, he went out into the night in search of his wife. And as he went along he cried, “Oh, oh, oh, where is my wife? Where is my girl? I have lost my wife. I have lost my girl. Oh, oh, oh.” And when the people heard him calling, they thought they would play a trick on him. So they said, “She is here, she is here.”But when he entered their houses, the woman they showed him was not his wife, and he went away sorrowful. And the people all laughed at his confusion, and said, “Owl-man is getting stranger each day. He is far gone in his head.” Owl-man went from house to house, but he could not find his wife. Then he went to the trees and searched among the branches. He pulled the trees up by the roots, thinking she might be hiding underneath. And he looked into the salmon-traps in the rivers, and kicked them to pieces in his frenzy. But nowhere was his wife to be found.Then he went to the girl’s house, where she was hiding, and he yelled, “Oh, oh, oh, give me my wife. Give me my girl. I know she is here. Oh, oh, oh.” But the girl’s foster mother would not give her up. Then he began to tear down the house over their heads, for the old man of the house was away and there was no one else strong enough to stop Owl-man in his rage. When the woman saw her house in danger of falling about her ears, she cried, “Stop; your wife is here.” And she brought forth the girl from her hiding-place. When Owl-man saw her, his rage left him and he was happy again.But just then the old man of magic power came home. He had heard the hubbub from a distance. When he came in and saw the great holes in the roof and the side of his house where Owl-man had torn away the logs, he was very angry and he said to himself, “I will punish both Owl-man and the girl for this night’s work.” And he hit upon a plan. He said to Owl-man, “We must give you a hot bath to melt the gum and take it from your hair, for it will do you no good, and it will take all the hair off your head.” And Owl-man gladly agreed.So they filled a great bark tub with water and heated it by placing at the bottom of it many red-hot stones, after the fashion of Indians in those old days. But the old man put so many hot stones in the water that it was soon almost boiling with the heat, and when they put Owl-man into the tub he was almost scalded to death and he yelled loudly in pain. Then the old man said, “Now I will take vengeance. You will trouble me no more. You have broken my house. Henceforth you will be not a man but an Owl, and you will dwell alone in the forest with few friends, and you will live always on frogs and toads and field-mice, and people will hear you at night crying for your wife all over the land, but you shall never find her.” Then with his magic power he changed him to an Owl and sent him on his way.He said to the girl, “You have done me much harm too, and you have brought all this trouble upon me. Henceforth you will be not a girl but a Fish Hawk, and you will always cry and fret and scream as you have done before, and you will never be satisfied.” And with his magic power he changed her into a Fish Hawk, and sent her out to the ocean. And there she screams always, and she is a great glutton, for she can never get enough to eat. And since that time, Owl and Fish Hawk have not dwelt together and have not been on friendly terms. They live far apart, and Owl keeps to the forest and the mountains, while the other keeps to the sea. Thus was the old man avenged, and thus was the weeping maiden punished for her tears. And the cries of Owl and Fish Hawk are still heard in many places, one calling for his wife, the other screaming unsatisfied for something she cannot get.
Author’s note: This story is from SwedenOnce upon a time there lived a peasant who had three sons. The two elder ones used to go with him to the field and to the forest, and helped him in his work, but the youngest remained at home with his mother, to help her in the house. His brothers despised him for doing this, and whenever they had a chance they used him badly.At length the father and mother died, and the sons divided the property among them. As might have been looked for, the elder brothers took all that was of any value for themselves, leaving nothing to the youngest but an old cracked kneading-trough, which neither of them thought worth the having.“The old trough,” said one of the brothers, “will do very well for our young brother, for he is always baking and scrubbing.”The boy thought this, as was only natural, a poor thing to inherit, but he could do nothing, and he now recognised that it would be no use his remaining at home, so he wished his brothers good-bye, and went off to seek his fortune. On coming to the side of a lake he made his trough water-tight with oakum, and converted it into a little boat. Then he found two sticks, and using these as oars rowed away.When he had crossed the water, he saw a large palace, and entering it, he asked to speak with the king. The king questioned him respecting his family and the purpose of his visit.“I,” said the boy, “am the son of a poor peasant, and all I have in the world is an old kneading-trough. I have come here to seek work.”The king laughed when he heard this.“Indeed,” said he, “you have not inherited much, but fortune works many a change.”He took the lad to be one of his servants, and he became a favourite for his courage and honesty.Now the king who owned this palace had an only daughter, who was so beautiful and so clever that she was talked of all through the kingdom, and many came from the east and from the west to ask her hand in marriage. The princess, however, rejected them all, saying that none should have her for his wife unless he brought her for a wedding-present four valuable things belonging to a giant who lived on the other side of the lake. These four treasures were a gold sword, three gold hens, a gold lantern, and a gold harp.Many king’s sons and many good warriors tried to win these treasures, but none of them came back, for the giant caught them all and eat them. The king was very sorrowful, for he feared that at this rate his daughter would never get a husband, and so he would not have a son-in-law to whom to leave his kingdom.The boy when he heard of this thought that it might be well worth his while to try to win the king’s beautiful daughter. So he went to the king one day, and told him what he meant to do. When the king heard him, he got angry, and said—“Do you think that you, who are only a servant, can do what great warriors have failed in?”The boy, however, was not to be dissuaded, and begged him so to let him go that at last the king grew calmer and gave him his permission. “But,” said he, “you will lose your life, and I shall be sorry to miss you.”With that they parted.The boy went down to the shore of the lake, and, having found his trough, he looked it over very closely. Then he got into it and rowed across the lake, and coming to the giant’s dwelling he hid himself, and stayed the night there.Very early in the morning, before it was light, the giant went to his barn, and began to thrash, making such a noise that the mountains all around echoed again. When the boy heard this he collected some stones and put them in his pouch. Then he climbed up on to the roof of the barn and made a little hole so that he could look in. Now the giant had by his side his golden sword, which had the strange property that it clanked whenever the giant was angry. While the giant was busy thrashing at full speed, the boy threw a little stone which hit the sword, and caused it to clank.“Why do you clank?” said the giant. “I am not angry.”He went on thrashing, but the next moment the sword clanked again. Once more the giant pursued his work, and the sword clanked a third time. Then the giant got so angry that he undid the belt, and threw the sword out of the barn door.“Lie there,” said he, “till I have done my thrashing.”The lad waited no longer, but slipping down from the roof seized on the sword, ran to his boat, and rowed across the water. On reaching the other side he hid his treasure, and was full of glee at the success of his adventure.The next day he filled his pouch with corn, put a bundle of bast-twine in his boat, and once more set off to the giant’s dwelling. He lay hiding for a time, and then he saw the giant’s three golden hens walking about on the shore, and spreading their feathers, which sparkled beautifully in the bright sunshine. He was soon near them, and began to softly lead them on, scattering corn for them out of his pouch. While they were picking the boy gradually led them to the water, till at last he got them into his little boat. Then he jumped in himself, secured the fowl with his twine, pushed out from the shore, and rowed as quickly as he could to the other side of the water.The third day he put some lumps of salt into his pouch, and again rowed across the lake. As night came on he noticed how the smoke rose from the giant’s dwelling, and concluded that the giant’s wife was busy getting ready his food. He crept up on to the roof, and, looking down through the hole by which the smoke escaped, saw a large caldron boiling on the fire. Then he took the lumps of salt out of his pouch, and threw them one by one into the pot. Having done this, he crept down from the roof, and waited to see what would follow.Soon after the giant’s wife took the caldron off the fire, poured out the porridge into a bowl, and put it on the table. The giant was hungry, and he fell to at once, but scarcely had he tasted the porridge when he found it too salt. He got very angry, and started from his seat. The old woman made what excuse she could, and said that the porridge must be good; but the giant declared he would eat no more of the stuff, and told her to taste it for herself. She did so, and pulled a terrible face, for she had never in her life tasted such abominable stuff.There was nothing for it but she must make some new porridge. So she seized a can, took the gold lantern down from the wall, and went as fast as she could to the well to draw some water. She put the lantern down by the side of the well, and was stooping down to get the water, when the boy ran to her, and, laying hold of her by the feet, threw her head over heels into the well. He seized hold of the golden lantern, ran away as fast as he could to his boat, and rowed across the water in safety.The giant sat for a long time wondering why his wife was away so long. At last he went to look for her, but nothing could he see of her. Then he heard a splashing in the well, and finding she was in the water, he, with a lot of work, got her out.“Where is my gold lantern?” was the first thing he asked, as the old woman came round a little.“I don’t know,” answered she. “Somebody came, caught me by the feet, and threw me into the well.”The giant was very angry at this.“Three of my treasures,” said he, “have gone, and I have now only my golden harp left. But, whoever the thief may be, he shall not have that; I will keep that safe under twelve locks.”While these things occurred at the giant’s dwelling, the boy sat on the other side of the water, rejoicing that he had got on so well.The most difficult task, however, had yet to be done, and for a long time he thought over how he could get the golden harp. At length he determined to row over to the giant’s place and see if fortune would favour him.No sooner said than done. He rowed over and went to a hiding-place. The giant had, however, been on the watch, and had seen him. So he rushed forward in a terrible rage and seized the boy, saying—“So I have caught you at last, you young rascal. You it was who stole my sword, my three gold hens, and my gold lantern.”The boy was terribly afraid, for he thought his last hour was come.“Spare my life, father,” said he humbly, “and I will never come here again.”“No,” replied the giant, “I will do the same with you as with the others. No one slips alive out of my hands.”He then shut the boy up in a sty, and fed him with nuts and sweet milk, so as to get him nice and fat preparatory to killing and eating him.The lad was a prisoner, but he ate and drank and made himself as easy as he could. After some time the giant wanted to find out if he were fat enough to be killed. So he went to the sty, made a little hole in the wall, and told the boy to put his finger through it. The lad knew what he wanted; so instead of putting out his finger he poked out a little peeled alder twig. The giant cut the twig, and the red sap ran out. Then he thought the boy must be yet very lean since his flesh was so hard, so he caused a greater supply of milk and nuts to be given to him.Some time after, the giant again visited the sty, and ordered the boy to put his finger through the hole in the wall. The lad now poked out a cabbage-stalk, and the giant, having cut it with his knife, concluded that the lad must be fat enough, his flesh seemed so soft.The next morning the giant said to his wife—“The boy seems to be fat enough now, mother; take him then to-day, and bake him in the oven, while I go and ask our kinsfolk to the feast.”The old woman promised to do what her husband told her. So, having heated the oven, she dragged out the boy to bake him.“Sit on the shovel,” said she.The boy did so, but when the old woman raised the shovel the boy always fell off. So they went on many times. At last the giantess got angry, and scolded the boy for being so awkward; the lad excused himself, saying that he did not know the way to sit on the shovel.“Look at me,” said the woman, “I will show you.”So she sat herself down on the shovel, bending her back and drawing up her knees. No sooner was she seated than the boy, seizing hold of the handle, pushed her into the oven and slammed the door to. Then he took the woman’s fur cloak, stuffed it out with straw, and laid it on the bed. Seizing the giant’s bunch of keys, he opened the twelve locks, snatched up the golden harp, and ran down to his boat, which he had hidden among the flags on the shore.The giant soon afterwards came home.“Where can my wife be?” said he. “No doubt she has lain down to sleep a bit. Ah! I thought so.”The old woman, however, slept a long while, and the giant could not wake her, though he was now expecting his friends to arrive.“Wake up, mother,” cried he, but no one replied. He called again, but there was no response. He got angry, and, going to the bed, he gave the fur cloak a good shake. Then he found that it was not his wife, but only a bundle of straw put in her clothes. At this the giant grew alarmed, and he ran off to look after his golden harp. He found his keys gone, the twelve locks undone, and the harp missing. He went to the oven and opened the door to see how the meat for the feast was going on. Behold! there sat his wife, baked, and grinning at him.Then the giant was almost mad with grief and rage, and he rushed out to seek the lad who had done him all this mischief. He came down to the edge of the water and found him sitting in his boat, playing on the harp. The music came over the water, and the gold strings shone wonderfully in the sunshine. The giant jumped into the water after the boy; but finding that it was too deep, he laid himself down, and began to drink the water in order to make the lake shallower. He drank with all his might, and by this means set up a current which drew the boat nearer and nearer to the shore. Just when he was going to lay hold of it he burst, for he had drunk too much; and there was an end of him.The giant lay dead on the shore, and the boy moved away across the lake, full of joy and happiness. When he came to land, he combed his golden hair, put on fine clothes, fastened the giant’s gold sword by his side, and, taking the gold harp in one hand and the gold lantern in the other, he led the gold fowl after him, and went to the king, who was sitting in the great hall of the palace surrounded by his courtiers. When the king saw the boy he was heartily glad. The lad went to the king’s beautiful daughter, saluted her courteously, and laid the giant’s treasures before her. Then there was great joy in the palace, that the princess had after all got the giant’s treasures and so bold and handsome a bridegroom. The wedding was celebrated soon after with very much splendour and rejoicing; and when the king died the lad succeeded him, ruling over all the land both long and happily.I know no more respecting them.
In the Bath district of Brooklyn stands Cortelyou manor, built one hundred and fifty years ago, and a place of defence during the Revolution when the British made sallies from their camp in Flatbush and worried the neighborhood. It was in one of these forays on pigs and chickens that a gallant officer of red-coats met a pretty lass in the fields of Cortelyou. He stilled her alarm by aiding her to gather wild-flowers, and it came about that the girl often went into the fields and came back with prodigious bouquets of daisies. The elder Cortelyou had no inkling of this adventure until one of his sons saw her tryst with the red-coat at a distance. Be sure the whole family joined him in remonstrance. As the girl declared that she would not forego the meetings with her lover, the father swore that she should never leave his roof again, and he tried to be as good, or bad, as his word. The damsel took her imprisonment as any girl of spirit would, but was unable to effect her escape until one evening, as she sat at her window, watching the moon go down and paint the harbor with a path of light. A tap at the pane, as of a pebble thrown against it, roused her from her revery. It was her lover on the lawn.At her eager signal he ran forward with a light ladder, planted it against the window-sill, and in less than a minute the twain were running toward the beach; but the creak of the ladder had been heard, and grasping their muskets two of the men hurried out. In the track of the moon the pursuers descried a moving form, and, without waiting to challenge, they levelled the guns and fired. A woman’s cry followed the report; then a dip of oars was heard that fast grew fainter until it faded from hearing. On returning to the house they found the girl’s room empty, and next morning her slipper was brought in from the mud at the landing. Nobody inside of the American lines ever learned what that shot had done, but if it failed to take a life it robbed Cortelyou of his mind. He spent the rest of his days in a single room, chained to a staple in the floor, tramping around and around, muttering and gesturing, and sometimes startling the passer-by as he showed his white face and ragged beard at the window.
Once upon a time there lived a miller who was so rich that, when he was going to be married, he asked to the feast not only his own friends but also the wild animals who dwelt in the hills and woods round about. The chief of the bears, the wolves, the foxes, the horses, the cows, the goats, the sheep, and the reindeer, all received invitations; and as they were not accustomed to weddings they were greatly pleased and flattered, and sent back messages in the politest language that they would certainly be there.The first to start on the morning of the wedding-day was the bear, who always liked to be punctual; and, besides, he had a long way to go, and his hair, being so thick and rough, needed a good brushing before it was fit to be seen at a party. However, he took care to awaken very early, and set off down the road with a light heart. Before he had walked very far he met a boy who came whistling along, hitting at the tops of the flowers with a stick.‘Where are you going?’ said he, looking at the bear in surprise, for he was an old acquaintance, and not generally so smart.‘Oh, just to the miller’s marriage,’ answered the bear carelessly. ‘Of course, I would much rather stay at home, but the miller was so anxious I should be there that I really could not refuse.’‘Don’t go, don’t go!’ cried the boy. ‘If you do you will never come back! You have got the most beautiful skin in the world– just the kind that everyone is wanting, and they will be sure to kill you and strip you of it.’‘I had not thought of that,’ said the bear, whose face turned white, only nobody could see it. ‘If you are certain that they would be so wicked–but perhaps you are jealous because nobody has invited you?’‘Oh, nonsense!’ replied the boy angrily, ‘do as you see. It is your skin, and not mine; I don’t care what becomes of it!’ And he walked quickly on with his head in the air.The bear waited until he was out of sight, and then followed him slowly, for he felt in his heart that the boy’s advice was good, though he was too proud to say so.The boy soon grew tired of walking along the road, and turned off into the woods, where there were bushes he could jump and streams he could wade; but he had not gone far before he met the wolf.‘Where are you going?’ asked he, for it was not the first time he had seen him.‘Oh, just to the miller’s marriage,’ answered the wolf, as the bear had done before him. ‘It is rather tiresome, of course– weddings are always so stupid; but still one must be good-natured!’‘Don’t go!’ said the boy again. ‘Your skin is so thick and warm, and winter is not far off now. They will kill you, and strip it from you.’The wolf’s jaw dropped in astonishment and terror. ‘Do you really think that would happen?’ he gasped.‘Yes, to be sure, I do,’ answered the boy. ‘But it is your affair, not mine. So good-morning,’ and on he went. The wolf stood still for a few minutes, for he was trembling all over, and then crept quietly back to his cave.Next the boy met the fox, whose lovely coat of silvery grey was shining in the sun.‘You look very fine!’ said the boy, stopping to admire him, ‘are you going to the miller’s wedding too?’‘Yes,’ answered the fox; ‘it is a long journey to take for such a thing as that, but you know what the miller’s friends are like– so dull and heavy! It is only kind to go and amuse them a little.’‘You poor fellow,’ said the boy pityingly. ‘Take my advice and stay at home. If you once enter the miller’s gate his dogs will tear you in pieces.’‘Ah, well, such things have occurred, I know,’ replied the fox gravely. And without saying any more he trotted off the way he had come.“Adventures of a horse.” Unknown illustrator, published in The Adventures of a Horse in Peace and War by Unknown Author (1857), Petter and Galpin.His tail had scarcely disappeared, when a great noise of crashing branches was heard, and up bounded the horse, his black skin glistening like satin.‘Good-morning,’ he called to the boy as he galloped past, ‘I can’t wait to talk to you now. I have promised the miller to be present at his wedding-feast, and they won’t sit down till I come.’‘Stop! stop!’ cried the boy after him, and there was something in his voice that made the horse pull up. ‘What is the matter?’ asked he.‘You don’t know what you are doing,’ said the boy. ‘If once you go there you will never gallop through these woods any more. You are stronger than many men, but they will catch you and put ropes round you, and you will have to work and to serve them all the days of your life.’The horse threw back his head at these words, and laughed scornfully.‘Yes, I am stronger than many men,’ answered he, ‘and all the ropes in the world would not hold me. Let them bind me as fast as they will, I can always break loose, and return to the forest and freedom.’And with this proud speech he gave a whisk of his long tail, and galloped away faster than before.But when he reached the miller’s house everything happened as the boy had said. While he was looking at the guests and thinking how much handsomer and stronger he was than any of them, a rope was suddenly flung over his head, and he was thrown down and a bit thrust between his teeth. Then, in spite of his struggles, he was dragged to a stable, and shut up for several days without any food, till his spirit was broken and his coat had lost its gloss. After that he was harnessed to a plough, and had plenty of time to remember all he had lost through not listening to the counsel of the boy.When the horse had turned a deaf ear to his words the boy wandered idly along, sometimes gathering wild strawberries from a bank, and sometimes plucking wild cherries from a tree, till he reached a clearing in the middle of the forest. Crossing this open space was a beautiful milk-white cow with a wreath of flowers round her neck.‘Good-morning,’ she said pleasantly, as she came up to the place where the boy was standing.‘Good-morning,’ he returned. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’‘To the miller’s wedding; I am rather late already, for the wreath took such a long time to make, so I can’t stop.’‘Don’t go,’ said the boy earnestly;’ when once they have tasted your milk they will never let you leave them, and you will have to serve them all the days of your life.’‘Oh, nonsense; what do yon know about it?’ answered the cow, who always thought she was wiser than other people. ‘Why, I can run twice as fast as any of them! I should like to see anybody try to keep me against my will.’ And, without even a polite bow, she went on her way, feeling very much offended.But everything turned out just as the boy had said. The company had all heard of the fame of the cow’s milk, and persuaded her to give them some, and then her doom was sealed. A crowd gathered round her, and held her horns so that she could not use them, and, like the horse, she was shut in the stable, and only let out in the mornings, when a long rope was tied round her head, and she was fastened to a stake in a grassy meadow.And so it happened to the goat and to the sheep.Last of all came the reindeer, looking as he always did, as if some serious business was on hand.‘Where are you going?’ asked the boy, who by this time was tired of wild cherries, and was thinking of his dinner.‘I am invited to the wedding,’ answered the reindeer, ‘and the miller has begged me on no account to fail him.’‘O fool!’ cried the boy, ‘have you no sense at all? Don’t you know that when you get there they will hold you fast, for neither beast nor bird is as strong or as swift as you?’‘That is exactly why I am quite safe,’ replied the reindeer. ‘I am so strong that no one can bind me, and so swift that not even an arrow can catch me. So, goodbye for the present, you will soon see me back.’But none of the animals that went to the miller’s wedding ever came back. And because they were self-willed and conceited, and would not listen to good advice, they and their children have been the servants of men to this very day.
There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning which they carried to the market and sold. But one morning Milky-white gave no milk and they didn’t know what to do.“What shall we do, what shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands.“Cheer up, mother, I’ll go and get work somewhere,” said Jack.“We’ve tried that before, and nobody would take you,” said his mother; “we must sell Milky-white and with the money do something, start shop, or something.”“All right, mother,” says Jack; “it’s market-day today, and I’ll soon sell Milky-white, and then we’ll see what we can do.”So he took the cow’s halter in his hand, and off he starts. He hadn’t gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.”“Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name.“Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man.“I’m going to market to sell our cow here.”“Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows,” said the man; “I wonder if you know how many beans make five.”“Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” says Jack, as sharp as a needle.“Right you are,” said the man, “and here they are the very beans themselves,” he went on pulling out of his pocket a number of strange- looking beans. “As you are so sharp,” says he, “I don’t mind doing a swop with you—your cow for these beans.”“Walker!” says Jack; “wouldn’t you like it?”“Ah! you don’t know what these beans are,” said the man; “if you plant them over-night, by morning they grow right up to the sky.”“Really?” says Jack; “you don’t say so.”“Yes, that is so, and if it doesn’t turn out to be true you can have your cow back.”“Right,” says Jack, and hands him over Milky-white’s halter and pockets the beans.Back goes Jack home, and as he hadn’t gone very far it wasn’t dusk by the time he got to his door.“What back, Jack?” said his mother; “I see you haven’t got Milky- white, so you’ve sold her. How much did you get for her?”“You’ll never guess, mother,” says Jack.“No, you don’t say so. Good boy! Five pounds, ten, fifteen, no, it can’t be twenty.”“I told you you couldn’t guess, what do you say to these beans; they’re magical, plant them over-night and——”“What!” says Jack’s mother, “have you been such a fool, such a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away my Milky-white, the best milker in the parish, and prime beef to boot, for a set of paltry beans. Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious beans here they go out of the window. And now off with you to bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night.”So Jack went upstairs to his little room in the attic, and sad and sorry he was, to be sure, as much for his mother’s sake, as for the loss of his supper.At last he dropped off to sleep.When he woke up, the room looked so funny. The sun was shining into part of it, and yet all the rest was quite dark and shady. So Jack jumped up and dressed himself and went to the window. And what do you think he saw? why, the beans his mother had thrown out of the window into the garden, had sprung up into a big beanstalk which went up and up and up till it reached the sky. So the man spoke truth after all.The beanstalk grew up quite close past Jack’s window, so all he had to do was to open it and give a jump on to the beanstalk which was made like a big plaited ladder. So Jack climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he reached the sky. And when he got there he found a long broad road going as straight as a dart. So he walked along and he walked along and he walked along till he came to a great big tall house, and on the doorstep there was a great big tall woman.“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, quite polite-like. “Could you be so kind as to give me some breakfast.” For he hadn’t had anything to eat, you know, the night before and was as hungry as a hunter.“It’s breakfast you want, is it?” says the great big tall woman, “it’s breakfast you’ll be if you don’t move off from here. My man is an ogre and there’s nothing he likes better than boys broiled on toast. You’d better be moving on or he’ll soon be coming.”“Oh! please mum, do give me something to eat, mum. I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, really and truly, mum,” says Jack. “I may as well be broiled, as die of hunger.”Well, the ogre’s wife wasn’t such a bad sort, after all. So she took Jack into the kitchen, and gave him a junk of bread and cheese and a jug of milk. But Jack hadn’t half finished these when thump! thump! thump! the whole house began to tremble with the noise of someone coming.“Goodness gracious me! It’s my old man,” said the ogre’s wife, “what on earth shall I do? Here, come quick and jump in here.” And she bundled Jack into the oven just as the ogre came in.He was a big one, to be sure. At his belt he had three calves strung up by the heels, and he unhooked them and threw them down on the table and said: “Here, wife, broil me a couple of these for breakfast. Ah what’s this I smell? Fee-fi-fo-fum,I smell the blood of an Englishman,Be he alive, or be he deadI’ll have his bones to grind my bread.”“Nonsense, dear,” said his wife, “you’re dreaming. Or perhaps you smell the scraps of that little boy you liked so much for yesterday’s dinner. Here, go you and have a wash and tidy up, and by the time you come back your breakfast’ll be ready for you.”So the ogre went off, and Jack was just going to jump out of the oven and run off when the woman told him not. “Wait till he’s asleep,” says she; “he always has a snooze after breakfast.”Well, the ogre had his breakfast, and after that he goes to a big chest and takes out of it a couple of bags of gold and sits down counting them till at last his head began to nod and he began to snore till the whole house shook again.Then Jack crept out on tiptoe from his oven, and as he was passing the ogre he took one of the bags of gold under his arm, and off he pelters till he came to the beanstalk, and then he threw down the bag of gold which of course fell in to his mother’s garden, and then he climbed down and climbed down till at last he got home and told his mother and showed her the gold and said: “Well, mother, wasn’t I right about the beans. They are really magical, you see.”So they lived on the bag of gold for some time, but at last they came to the end of that so Jack made up his mind to try his luck once more up at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning he got up early, and got on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he got on the road again and came to the great big tall house he had been to before. There, sure enough, was the great big tall woman a-standing on the door-step.“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, as bold as brass, “could you be so good as to give me something to eat?”“Go away, my boy,” said the big, tall woman, “or else my man will eat you up for breakfast. But aren’t you the youngster who came here once before? Do you know, that very day, my man missed one of his bags of gold.”“That’s strange, mum,” says Jack, “I dare say I could tell you something about that but I’m so hungry I can’t speak till I’ve had something to eat.”Well the big tall woman was that curious that she took him in and gave him something to eat. But he had scarcely begun munching it as slowly as he could when thump! thump! thump! they heard the giant’s footstep, and his wife hid Jack away in the oven.All happened as it did before. In came the ogre as he did before, said: “Fee-fi-fo-fum,” and had his breakfast off three broiled oxen. Then he said: “Wife, bring me the hen that lays the golden eggs.” So she brought it, and the ogre said: “Lay,” and it laid an egg all of gold. And then the ogre began to nod his head, and to snore till the house shook.Then Jack crept out of the oven on tiptoe and caught hold of the golden hen, and was off before you could say “Jack Robinson.” But this time the hen gave a cackle which woke the ogre, and just as Jack got out of the house he heard him calling: “Wife, wife, what have you done with my golden hen?”And the wife said: “Why, my dear?”But that was all Jack heard, for he rushed off to the beanstalk and climbed down like a house on fire. And when he got home he showed his mother the wonderful hen and said “Lay,” to it; and it laid a golden egg every time he said “Lay.”Well, Jack was not content, and it wasn’t very long before he determined to have another try at his luck up there at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning, he got up early, and went on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till he got to the top. But this time he knew better than to go straight to the ogre’s house. And when he got near it he waited behind a bush till he saw the ogre’s wife come out with a pail to get some water, and then he crept into the house and got into the copper. He hadn’t been there long when he heard thump! thump! thump! as before, and in come the ogre and his wife.“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” cried out the ogre; “I smell him, wife, I smell him.”“Do you, my dearie?” says the ogre’s wife. “Then if it’s that little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden eggs he’s sure to have got into the oven.” And they both rushed to the oven. But Jack wasn’t there, luckily, and the ogre’s wife said: “There you are again with your fee-fi-fo-fum. Why of course it’s the laddie you caught last night that I’ve broiled for your breakfast. How forgetful I am, and how careless you are not to tell the difference between a live un and a dead un.”So the ogre sat down to the breakfast and ate it, but every now and then he would mutter: “Well, I could have sworn——” and he’d get up and search the larder and the cupboards, and everything, only luckily he didn’t think of the copper.After breakfast was over, the ogre called out: “Wife, wife, bring me my golden harp.” So she brought it and put it on the table before him. Then he said: “Sing!” and the golden harp sang most beautifully. And it went on singing till the ogre fell asleep, and commenced to snore like thunder.Then Jack lifted up the copper-lid very quietly and got down like a mouse and crept on hands and knees till he got to the table when he got up and caught hold of the golden harp and dashed with it towards the door. But the harp called out quite loud: “Master! Master!” and the ogre woke up just in time to see Jack running off with his harp.Jack ran as fast as he could, and the ogre came rushing after, and would soon have caught him only Jack had a start and dodged him a bit and knew where he was going. When he got to the beanstalk the ogre was not more than twenty yards away when suddenly he saw Jack disappear like, and when he got up to the end of the road he saw Jack underneath climbing down for dear life. Well, the ogre didn’t like trusting himself to such a ladder, and he stood and waited, so Jack got another start. But just then the harp cried out: “Master! master!” and the ogre swung himself down on to the beanstalk which shook with his weight. Down climbs Jack, and after him climbed the ogre. By this time Jack had climbed down and climbed down and climbed down till he was very nearly home. So he called out: “Mother! mother! bring me an axe, bring me an axe.” And his mother came rushing out with the axe in her hand, but when she came to the beanstalk she stood stock still with fright for there she saw the ogre just coming down below the clouds.But Jack jumped down and got hold of the axe and gave a chop at the beanstalk which cut it half in two. The ogre felt the beanstalk shake and quiver so he stopped to see what was the matter. Then Jack gave another chop with the axe, and the beanstalk was cut in two and began to topple over. Then the ogre fell down and broke his crown, and the beanstalk came toppling after.Then Jack showed his mother his golden harp, and what with showing that and selling the golden eggs, Jack and his mother became very rich, and he married a great princess, and they lived happy ever after.
Three army-surgeons who thought they knew their art perfectly, were travelling about the world, and they came to an inn where they wanted to pass the night. The host asked whence they came, and whither they were going? “We are roaming about the world and practising our art.” “Just show me for once in a way what you can do,” said the host.Then the first said he would cut off his hand, and put it on again early next morning; the second said he would tear out his heart, and replace it next morning; the third said he would cut out his eyes and heal them again next morning. “If you can do that,” said the innkeeper, “you have learnt everything.”They, however, had a salve, with which they rubbed themselves, which joined parts together, and they carried the little bottle in which it was, constantly with them. Then they cut the hand, heart and eyes from their bodies as they had said they would, and laid them all together on a plate, and gave it to the innkeeper. The innkeeper gave it to a servant who was to set it in the cupboard, and take good care of it. The girl, however, had a lover in secret, who was a soldier. When therefore the innkeeper, the three army-surgeons, and every one else in the house were asleep, the soldier came and wanted something to eat. The girl opened the cupboard and brought him some food, and in her love forgot to shut the cupboard-door again; She seated herself at the table by her lover, and they chattered away together. While she sat so contentedly there thinking of no ill luck, the cat came creeping in, found the cupboard open, took the hand and heart and eyes of the three army-surgeons, and ran off with them. When the soldier had done eating, and the girl was taking away the things and going to shut the cupboard she saw that the plate which the innkeeper had given her to take care of, was empty. Then she said in a fright to her lover, “Ah, miserable girl, what shall I do? The hand is gone, the heart and the eyes are gone too, what will become of me in the morning?” “Be easy,” said he, “I will help thee out of thy trouble—there is a thief hanging outside on the gallows, I will cut off his hand. Which hand was it?” “The right one.” Then the girl gave him a sharp knife, and he went and cut the poor sinner’s right hand off, and brought it to her. After this he caught the cat and cut its eyes out, and now nothing but the heart was wanting. “Have you not been killing, and are not the dead pigs in the cellar?” said he. “Yes,” said the girl. “That’s well,” said the soldier, and he went down and fetched a pig’s heart. The girl placed all together on the plate, and put it in the cupboard, and when after this her lover took leave of her, she went quietly to bed.In the morning when the three army-surgeons got up, they told the girl she was to bring them the plate on which the hand, heart, and eyes were lying. Then she brought it out of the cupboard, and the first fixed the thief’s hand on and smeared it with his salve, and it grew to his arm directly. The second took the cat’s eyes and put them in his own head. The third fixed the pig’s heart firm in the place where his own had been, and the innkeeper stood by, admired their skill, and said he had never yet seen such a thing as that done, and would sing their praises and recommend them to every one. Then they paid their bill, and travelled farther.As they were on their way, the one with the pig’s heart did not stay with them at all, but wherever there was a corner he ran to it, and rooted about in it with his nose as pigs do. The others wanted to hold him back by the tail of his coat, but that did no good; he tore himself loose, and ran wherever the dirt was thickest. The second also behaved very strangely; he rubbed his eyes, and said to the others, “Comrades, what is the matter? I don’t see at all. Will one of you lead me, so that I do not fall.” Then with difficulty they travelled on till evening, when they reached another inn. They went into the bar together, and there at a table in the corner sat a rich man counting money. The one with the thief’s hand walked round about him, made a sudden movement twice with his arm, and at last when the stranger turned away, he snatched at the pile of money, and took a handful from it. One of them saw this, and said, “Comrade, what art thou about? Thou must not steal—shame on thee!” “Eh,” said he, “but how can I stop myself? My hand twitches, and I am forced to snatch things whether I will or not.”After this, they lay down to sleep, and while they were lying there it was so dark that no one could see his own hand. All at once the one with the cat’s eyes awoke, aroused the others, and said, “Brothers, just look up, do you see the white mice running about there?” The two sat up, but could see nothing. Then said he, “Things are not right with us, we have not got back again what is ours. We must return to the innkeeper, he has deceived us.” They went back therefore, the next morning, and told the host they had not got what was their own again; that the first had a thief’s hand, the second cat’s eyes, and the third a pig’s heart. The innkeeper said that the girl must be to blame for that, and was going to call her, but when she had seen the three coming, she had run out by the backdoor, and not come back. Then the three said he must give them a great deal of money, or they would set his house on fire.* He gave them what he had, and whatever he could get together, and the three went away with it. It was enough for the rest of their lives, but they would rather have had their own proper organs.
There were once a King and a Queen, and they had a son called Sigurd, who was very strong and active, and good-looking. When the King came to be bowed down with the weight of years he spoke to his son, and said that now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for himself, for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would like to see him married before he died.Sigurd was not averse to this, and asked his father where he thought it best to look for a wife. The King answered that in a certain country there was a King who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would be most desirable if Sigurd could get her. So the two parted, and Sigurd prepared for the journey, and went to where his father had directed him.He came to the King and asked his daughter’s hand, which he readily granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as long as he could, for the King himself was not strong and not very able to govern his kingdom. Sigurd accepted this condition, but added that he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when he heard news of his father’s death. After that Sigurd married the Princess, and helped his father-in- law to govern the kingdom. He and the Princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them, who was two years old when word came to Sigurd that his father was dead. Sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child, and went on board ship to go by sea.They had sailed for several days, when the breeze suddenly fell, and there came a dead calm, at a time when they needed only one day’s voyage to reach home. Sigurd and his Queen were one day on deck, when most of the others on the ship had fallen asleep. There they sat and talked for a while, and had their little son along with them. After a time Sigurd became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he went below and lay down, leaving the Queen alone on the deck, playing with her son.“The witch comes on board.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in the Yellow Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1906), Longmans, Green, and Company.A good while after Sigurd had gone below the Queen saw something black on the sea, which seemed to be coming nearer. As it approached she could make out that it was a boat, and could see the figure of some one sitting in it and rowing it. At last the boat came alongside the ship, and now the Queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there came up on board the ship a fearfully ugly Witch. The Queen was more frightened than words can describe, and could neither speak a word nor move from the place so as to awaken the King or the sailors. The Witch came right up to the Queen, took the child from her and laid it on the deck; then she took the Queen, and stripped her of all her fine clothes, which she proceeded to put on herself, and looked then like a human being. Last of all she took the Queen, put her into the boat, and said–‘This spell I lay upon you, that you slacken not your course until you come to my brother in the Underworld.’The Queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight.When the boat could no longer be seen the child began to cry, and though the Witch tried to quiet it she could not manage it; so she went below to where the King was sleeping with the child on her arm, and awakened him, scolding him for leaving them alone on deck, while he and all the crew were asleep. It was great carelessness of him, she said, to leave no one to watch the ship with her.Sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his Queen scold him so much, for she had never said an angry word to him before; but he thought it was quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with her, but it was no use. Then he went and wakened the sailors, and bade them hoist the sails, for a breeze had sprung up and was blowing straight towards the harbour.They soon reached the land which Sigurd was to rule over, and found all the people sorrowful for the old King’s death, but they became glad when they got Sigurd back to the Court, and made him King over them.The King’s son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had always been such a good child before, so that at last the King had to get a nurse for him–one of the maids of the Court. As soon as the child got into her charge he stopped crying, and behaved well as before.After the sea-voyage it seemed to the King that the Queen had altered very much in many ways, and not for the better. He thought her much more haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to be. Before long others began to notice this as well as the King. In the Court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the other of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess, and often sat long inside playing at it. Their room was next the Queen’s, and often during the day they heard the Queen talking.One day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk, and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and heard the Queen say quite plainly, ‘When I yawn a little, then I am a nice little maiden; when I yawn half-way, then I am half a troll; and when I yawn fully, then I am a troll altogether.’As she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll. Then there came up through the floor of the room a three-headed Giant with a trough full of meat, who saluted her as his sister and set down the trough before her. She began to eat out of it, and never stopped till she had finished it. The young fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them say anything to each other. They were astonished though at how greedily the Queen devoured the meat, and how much she ate of it, and were no longer surprised that she took so little when she sat at table with the King. As soon as she had finished it the Giant disappeared with the trough by the same way as he had come, and the Queen returned to her human shape.Now we must go back to the King’s son after he had been put in charge of the nurse. One evening, after she had lit a candle and was holding the child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out at the opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white, with an iron belt round her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went down into the ground. The woman came up to the nurse, took the child from her, and pressed it to her breast; then she gave it back to the nurse and returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor closed over her again. Although the woman had not spoken a single word to her, the nurse was very much frightened, but told no one about it.Next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the woman was going away she said in a sad tone, ‘Two are gone, and one only is left,’ and then disappeared as before. The nurse was still more frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill-opinion of the unknown woman, who, indeed, had behaved towards the child as if it were her own. The most mysterious thing was the woman saying ‘and only one is left;’ but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only one day was left, since she had come for two days already.At last the nurse made up her mind to go to the King, and told him the whole story, and asked him to be present in person next day about the time when the woman usually came. The King promised to do so, and came to the nurse’s room a little before the time, and sat down on a chair with his drawn sword in his hand. Soon after the planks in the floor sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, with the iron belt and chain. The King saw at once that it was his own Queen, and immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened to the belt. This was followed by such noises and crashings down in the earth that all the King’s Palace shook, so that no one expected anything else than to see every bit of it shaken to pieces. At last, however, the noises and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again.The King and Queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole story–how the Witch came to the ship when they were all asleep and sent her off in the boat. After she had gone so far that she could not see the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a three-headed Giant. The Giant wished her to marry him, but she refused; whereupon he shut her up by herself, and told her she would never get free until she consented. After a time she began to plan how to get her freedom, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow her to visit her son on earth three days on end. This he agreed to, but put on her this iron belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened round his own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the King cut the chain must have been caused by the Giant’s falling down the underground passage when the chain gave way so suddenly. The Giant’s dwelling, indeed, was right under the Palace, and the terrible shakings must have been caused by him in his death-throes.The King now understood how the Queen he had had for some time past had been so ill-tempered. He at once had a sack drawn over her head and made her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed horses. The two young fellows also told now what they had heard and seen in the Queen’s room, for before this they had been afraid to say anything about it, on account of the Queen’s power.The real Queen was now restored to all her dignity, and was beloved by all. The nurse was married to a nobleman, and the King and Queen gave her splendid presents.
Yes, Loki went through Asgard silent and with head bent, and the Dwellers in Asgard said one unto the other, “This will teach Loki to work no more mischief.” They did not know that what Loki had done had sown the seeds of mischief and that these seeds were to sprout up and bring sorrow to the beautiful Vana Freya, to Freya whom the Giant wanted to carry off with the Sun and the Moon as payment for his building the wall around Asgard.Freya had looked upon the wonders that Loki had brought into Asgard—the golden threads that were Sif’s hair, and Frey’s boar that shed light from its bristles as it flew. The gleam of these golden things dazzled her, and made her dream in the day time and the night time of the wonders that she herself might possess. And often she thought, “What wonderful things the Three Giant Women would give me if I could bring myself to go to them on their mountaintop.”Long ere this, when the wall around their City was not yet built, and when the Gods had set up only the court with their twelve seats and the Hall that was for Odin and the Hall that was for the Goddesses, there had come into Asgard Three Giant Women.They came after the Gods had set up a forge and had begun to work metal for their buildings. The metal they worked was pure gold. With gold they built Gladsheim, the Hall of Odin, and with gold they made all their dishes and household ware. Then was the Age of Gold, and the Gods did not grudge gold to anyone. Happy were the Gods then, and no shadow nor foreboding lay on Asgard.But after the Three Giant Women came the Gods began to value gold and to hoard it. They played with it no more. And the happy innocence of their first days departed from them.At last the Three were banished from Asgard. The Gods turned their thoughts from the hoarding of gold, and they built up their City, and they made themselves strong.And now Freya, the lovely Vanir bride, thought upon the Giant Women and on the wonderful things of gold they had flashed through their hands. But not to Odur, her husband, did she speak her thoughts; for Odur, more than any of the other dwellers in Asgard, was wont to think on the days of happy innocence, before gold came to be hoarded and valued. Odur would not have Freya go near the mountaintop where the Three had their high seat.But Freya did not cease to think upon them and upon the things of gold they had. “Why should Odur know I went to them?” she said to herself. “No one will tell him. And what difference will it make if I go to them and gain some lovely thing for myself? I shall not love Odur the less because I go my own way for once.”Then one day she left their palace, leaving Odur, her husband, playing with their little child Hnossa. She left the palace and went down to the Earth. There she stayed for a while, tending the flowers that were her charge. After a while she asked the Elves to tell her where the mountain was on which the Three Giant Women stayed.The Elves were frightened and would not tell her, although she was queen over them. She left them and stole down into the caves of the Dwarfs. It was they who showed her the way to the seat of the Giant Women, but before they showed her the way they made her feel shame and misery.“We will show you the way if you stay with us here,” said one of the Dwarfs.“For how long would you have me stay?” said Freya.“Until the cocks in Svartheim crow,” said the Dwarfs, closing round her. “We want to know what the company of one of the Vanir is like.” “I will stay,” Freya said.Then one of the Dwarfs reached up and put his arms round her neck and kissed her with his ugly mouth. Freya tried to break away from them, but the Dwarfs held her. “You cannot go away from us now until the cocks of Svartheim crow,” they said.Then one and then another of the Dwarfs pressed up to her and kissed her. They made her sit down beside them on the heaps of skins they had. When she wept they screamed at her and beat her. One, when she would not kiss him on the mouth, bit her hands. So Freya stayed with the Dwarfs until the cocks of Svartheim crew.They showed her the mountain on the top of which the Three banished from Asgard had their abode. The Giant Women sat overlooking the World of Men. “What would you have from us, wife of Odur?” one who was called Gulveig said to her.“Alas! Now that I have found you I know that I should ask you for nought,” Freya said.“Speak, Vana,” said the second of the Giant Women.The third said nothing, but she held up in her hands a necklace of gold most curiously fashioned. “How bright it is!” Freya said. “There is shadow where you sit, women, but the necklace you hold makes brightness now. Oh, how I should joy to wear it!”“It is the necklace Brisingamen,” said the one who was called Gulveig.“It is yours to wear, wife of Odur,” said the one who held it in her hands.Freya took the shining necklace and clasped it round her throat. She could not bring herself to thank the Giant Women, for she saw that there was evil in their eyes. She made reverence to them, however, and she went from the mountain on which they sat overlooking the World of Men.In a while she looked down and saw Brisingamen and her misery went from her. It was the most beautiful thing ever made by hands. None of the Asyniur and none other of the Vanir possessed a thing so beautiful. It made her more and more lovely, and Odur, she thought, would forgive her when he saw how beautiful and how happy Brisingamen made her.She rose up from amongst the flowers and took leave of the slight Elves and she made her way into Asgard. All who greeted her looked long and with wonder upon the necklace that she wore. And into the eyes of the Goddesses there came a look of longing when they saw Brisingamen.But Freya hardly stopped to speak to anyone. As swiftly as she could she made her way to her own palace. She would show herself to Odur and win his forgiveness. She entered her shining palace and called to him. No answer came. Her child, the little Hnossa, was on the floor, playing. Her mother took her in her arms, but the child, when she looked on Brisingamen, turned away crying.Freya left Hnossa down and searched again for Odur. He was not in any part of their palace. She went into the houses of all who dwelt in Asgard, asking for tidings of him. None knew where he had gone to. At last Freya went back to their palace and waited and waited for Odur to return. But Odur did not come.One came to her. It was a Goddess, Odin’s wife, the queenly Frigga. “You are waiting for Odur, your husband,” Frigga said. “Ah, let me tell you Odur will not come to you here. He went, when for the sake of a shining thing you did what would make him unhappy. Odur has gone from Asgard and no one knows where to search for him.”“I will seek him outside of Asgard,” Freya said. She wept no more, but she took the little child Hnossa and put her in Frigga’s arms. Then she mounted her car that was drawn by two cats, and journeyed down from Asgard to Midgard, the Earth, to search for Odur her husband.Year in and year out, and over all the Earth, Freya went searching and calling for the lost Odur. She went as far as the bounds of the Earth, where she could look over to Jötunheim, where dwelt the Giant who would have carried her off with the Sun and the Moon as payment for the building of the wall around Asgard. But in no place, from the end of the Rainbow Bifröst, that stretched from Asgard to the Earth, to the boundary of Jötunheim, did she find a trace of her husband Odur.At last she turned her car toward Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge that stretched from Midgard, the Earth, to Asgard, the Dwelling of the Gods. Heimdall, the Watcher for the Gods, guarded the Rainbow Bridge. To him Freya went with a half hope fluttering in her heart.“O Heimdall,” she cried, “O Heimdall, Watcher for the Gods, speak and tell me if you know where Odur is.”“Odur is in every place where the searcher has not come; Odur is in every place that the searcher has left; those who seek him will never find Odur,” said Heimdall, the Watcher for the Gods.Then Freya stood on Bifröst and wept. Frigga, the queenly Goddess, heard the sound of her weeping, and came out of Asgard to comfort her.“Ah, what comfort can you give me, Frigga?” cried Freya. “What comfort can you give me when Odur will never be found by one who searches for him?”“Behold how your daughter, the child Hnossa, has grown,” said Frigga. Freya looked up and saw a beautiful maiden standing on Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge. She was young, more youthful than any of the Vanir or the Asyniur, and her face and her form were so lovely that all hearts became melted when they looked upon her.And Freya was comforted in her loss. She followed Frigga across Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge, and came once again into the City of the Gods. In her own palace in Asgard Freya dwelt with Hnossa, her child.Still she wore round her neck Brisingamen, the necklace that lost her Odur. But now she wore it, not for its splendor, but as a sign of the wrong she had done. She weeps, and her tears become golden drops as they fall on the earth. And by poets who know her story she is called The Beautiful Lady in Tears.
There was once a shoemaker who made so little at his trade that his wife suffered and his children went hungry. In desperation he offered to sell his soul to a devil.“How much do you want for your soul?” the devil asked him.“I want work enough to give me a good livelihood,” the shoemaker said, “so that my wife won’t suffer nor my children starve.”The devil agreed to this and the shoemaker put his mark on the contract. After that trade improved and soon the little shoemaker was happy and prosperous.Now one night it happened that Christ and the blessed St. Peter, who were walking about on earth, stopped at the little shoemaker’s cottage and asked for a night’s lodging. The shoemaker received them most hospitably. He had his wife cook them a fine supper and after supper he gave them his own bed to sleep on while he and his wife went to the garret and slept on straw.In the morning he had his wife prepare them a good breakfast and after breakfast he took them on their way for a mile or two.As he was leaving them, St. Peter whispered to Christ:“Master, this poor man has given us of his best. Don’t you think you ought to reward him?”Christ nodded and, turning to the little shoemaker, he said:“For your kindness to us this day I will reward you. Make three wishes and they will be granted.”The shoemaker thanked Christ and said:“Well then, these are my wishes: first, may whoever sits down on my cobbler’s stool be unable to get up until I permit him; second, may whoever looks into the window of my cottage have to stand there until I let him go; and third, may whoever shakes the pear-tree in my garden stick to the tree until I set him free.”“Your wishes will be granted,” Christ promised. Then he and St. Peter went on their way and the shoemaker returned to his cottage.The years went by and at last one afternoon the devil stood before the shoemaker and said:“Ho, shoemaker, your time has come! Are you ready?”“Just let me have a bite of supper first,” the shoemaker said. “In the meantime you sit down here on my stool and rest yourself.”The devil who had been walking up and down the earth since sunrise was tired and so was glad enough to sit down.After supper the little shoemaker said:“Now then, I’m ready. Come on.”The devil tried to stand up but of course he couldn’t. He pulled this way and that. He stretched, he rolled from side to side until his bones ached, but all to no avail. He could not get up from the stool.“Brother!” he cried in terror, “help me off this cursed stool and I’ll give you seven more years—I swear I will!”At that promise the shoemaker allowed the devil to stand up, and the devil scurried off as fast as he could.He was true to his word. He didn’t come back for seven years. When he did come he was too clever to risk sitting down again on the cobbler’s stool. He didn’t even venture inside the cottage door. Instead, he stood at the window and called out:“Ho, shoemaker, here I am again! Your time has come! Are you ready?”“I’ll be ready in a moment,” the shoemaker said, “Just let me put a last stitch in these shoes.”When the shoemaker had finished sewing the shoes, he put aside his work, bade his wife good-bye, and said to the devil:“Now then, I’m ready. Let us go.”But the devil when he tried to move away from the window found that he was held fast. It was as if his feet had been soldered to the earth. In great fright he cried out:“Oh, my dear little shoemaker, help me! I can’t move!”“What’s this trick you’re playing on me?” the shoemaker said. “Now I’m ready to go and you aren’t! What do you mean by making a fool of me this way?”“Just help me to get free,” the devil cried, “and I’ll do anything in the world for you! I’ll give you seven more years! I swear I will!”“Very well,” the shoemaker said, “then I’ll help you this time. But never again! Now remember: I won’t let you make a fool of me a third time!”So the shoemaker freed the devil from the window and the devil without another word scurried off.At the end of another seven years he appeared again. But this time he was too clever to look in the window. He didn’t even come near the cottage. Instead he stood off in the garden under the pear-tree and called out:“Ho, there, shoemaker! Your time has come and I am here to get you! Are you ready?”“I’ll be ready in a moment,” the shoemaker said. “Just wait until I put away my tools. If you feel like it, shake yourself down a nice ripe pear.”The devil shook the pear-tree and of course when he tried to stop he couldn’t. He shook until all the pears had fallen. He kept on and presently he had shaken off all the leaves.When the shoemaker came out and saw the tree stripped and bare and the devil still shaking it, he pretended to fall into a fearful rage.“Hi, there, you! What do you mean shaking down all my pears! Stop it! Do you hear me? Stop it!”“But I can’t stop it!” the poor devil cried.“We’ll see about that!” the shoemaker said.He ran back into the cottage and got a long leather strap. Then he began beating the devil unmercifully over his head and shoulders.The devil made such an outcry that all the village heard him and came running to see what was the matter.“Help! Help!” the devil cried. “Make the shoemaker stop beating me!”But all the people thought the shoemaker was doing just right to punish the black fellow for shaking down all his pears and they urged the shoemaker to beat him harder.“My poor head! My poor shoulders!” the devil moaned. “If ever I get loose from this cursed pear-tree I’ll never come back here! I swear I won’t!”The shoemaker, when he heard this, laughed in his sleeve and let the devil go.The devil was true to his word. He never again returned. So the shoemaker lived, untroubled, to a ripe old age.Just before he died he asked that his cobbler’s apron be buried with him and his sons carried out his wish.As soon as he died the little shoemaker trudged up to heaven and knocked timidly at the golden gate. St. Peter opened the gate a little crack and peeped out. When he saw the shoemaker he shook his head and said:“Little shoemaker, heaven is no place for you. While you were alive you sold your soul to the ruler of the other place and now you must go there.”With that St. Peter shut the golden gate and locked it.The little shoemaker sighed and said to himself:“Well, I suppose I must go where St. Peter says.”So he put on a bold front and tramped down to hell. When the devil who knew him saw him coming, he shouted out to his fellow devils:“Brothers, on guard! Here comes that terrible little shoemaker! Lock every gate! Don’t let him in or he’ll drive us all out of hell!”The devils in great fright scurried about and locked and barred all the gates, and the little shoemaker when he arrived could not get in.He knocked and knocked but no one would answer.“They don’t seem to want me here,” he said to himself. “I suppose I’ll have to try heaven again.”So he trudged back to St. Peter and explained to him that hell was locked up tight.“No matter,” St. Peter said. “As I told you before heaven is no place for you.”The little shoemaker, tired and dejected, went back to hell but again the devils, when they saw him coming, locked every gate and kept him out.In desperation the little shoemaker returned to heaven and pounded loudly on the golden gate. Thinking from the noise that some very important saint had arrived, St. Peter flung open the gate. Quick as a flash the little shoemaker threw his leather apron inside, then hopped in himself under St. Peter’s elbow and squatted down on the apron.In great excitement St. Peter tried to turn him out of heaven, but the little shoemaker shouted:“You can’t touch me! You can’t touch me! I’m sitting on my own property! Let me alone!”He raised such a hubbub that all the angels and the blessed saints came running to see what was happening. Presently Lord Jesus himself came and the little shoemaker explained to him how he just had to stay in heaven as the devils wouldn’t let him into hell.“Now, Master,” St. Peter said, “what am I to do? You know yourself we can’t keep this fellow in heaven.”But Lord Jesus, looking with pity on the poor little shoemaker, said to St. Peter:“Just let him stay where he is. He won’t bother any one sitting here near the gate.”
A Fox had by some means got into the store-room of a theatre. Suddenly he observed a face glaring down on him and began to be very frightened; but looking more closely he found it was only a Mask such as actors use to put over their face. “Ah,” said the Fox, “you look very fine; it is a pity you have not got any brains.” Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth.
When the animals were first on the earth they were very much bigger than they are now. In those days the bite of a snake was not poisonous, but that of an iguana was. Mungoongarlee, the largest kind of iguana, which even now in its comparatively dwarfed condition measures five feet or so from tongue to tail, was, by reason of his poisonous bite, quite a terror in the land. His favourite food was the flesh of black fellows, whom he used to kill in numbers. Such havoc had he wrought amongst them that at last all the other tribes held a meeting to discuss how best to check this wholesale slaughter. Many things were suggested, but nothing that seemed likely to be effective. The meeting was breaking up; the tribes could think of no plan to save their relations, the Daens. Just as they were dispersing came Ouyouboolooey to the watering-place. He asked what the meeting was about; Dinewan the emu told him, that Mungoongarlee was so merciless towards the Daens or black fellows, living almost entirely on their flesh, that they feared the race would soon be exterminated if something were not done to stop it.“And,” said Bohrah the kangaroo, “though some of us are as big and bigger, as strong and stronger than Mungoongarlee, if we went to fight him he would kill us with the poison he carries in a hidden bag, and we too should die, even as our relations the Daens do. Most of us have relations amongst the Daens, and we do not wish to see them all killed, yet we know not how to stop the slaughter.”“I, too, have relations amongst them, the hippi and comeboo. My relations must be saved,” said Ouyouboolooey.“But how?” said the others. “We are nearly all their relations.”“Mungoongarlee himself is their and my relation,” said Moodai the opossum.“But that does not stop him from slaying them, whether they are our relations the Murrees and Gubbees, or the others, he slays all alike.”“I tell you that I shall save the Daens from Mungoongarlee,” said Ouyouboolooey.“But how?” said the others in chorus.“That I tell to none. But Yhi the sun shall not go to her rest to-morrow before I shall have got that poison bag from Mungoongarlee.”“Yhi the sun shall not have hidden behind that clump of Yaraan trees before you lie dead from the poison Mungoongarlee carries, if you fight against him.”“Did I talk of fighting? Is there no way to gain your end but by fighting? Let those who fight die. I shall not fight him, and I shall live. No Mungoongarlee shall kill me.”So saying, away glided Ouyouboolooey through the trees surrounding the water-hole where the tribes had met. When he was gone, the others talked of him and his boasting for awhile, then they all dispersed, having agreed to meet again at the same place, when Yhi the sun was sinking to rest the next evening.Ouyouboolooey went his way alone, pondering over his plans. Cunning he knew must be his guide to victory; not otherwise could he hope to gain it, for Mungoongarlee was bigger than he was, stronger, quicker of hearing and quicker to move, and above all the hidden bag of poison was his. The only advantage that Ouyouboolooey thought he had was that Mungoongarlee had been invincible so long that he might have grown careless and unsuspicious. Ouyouboolooey decided he would wait until Mungoongarlee was gorged with his favourite food. He would then follow him until he saw him go to sleep after his feast. That would be the next day.Having thus decided, Ouyouboolooey went near Mungoongarlee’s camp, and lay down to sleep there. The next morning he watched Mungoongarlee sally out. He followed him at a distance, saw him surprise three Daens one after the other, and kill them all, then sit down and eat his favourite parts, taking some of the flesh afterwards back to his camp with him. Ouyouboolooey followed him, saw him sit down and eat more, then roll over and go to sleep.“Now is my chance,” thought Ouyouboolooey, as he crept into the camp.He was just going to raise his boondee to crack the skull of Mungoongarlee, when he thought, “But first I might as well find out where he keeps and how he uses the poison. If I had it I could soon make myself feared of all the tribes as he is.”Thus thinking he sat down to wait until Mungoongarlee awoke. He did not have to wait long. Mungoongarlee slept but restlessly. Feeling something was near he awoke, sat up and looked round. At a little distance away he saw Ouyouboolooey. As he was making a rush at him, Ouyouboolooey called out:“Take care! If you kill me you will hear nothing of the plot the tribes have planned against you, of which I have come to warn you.”“What plot? What can the tribes do against me? Have I killed numbers of the biggest tribe to be frightened now of the others?”“If you knew their plot you would have no need to fear them; knowing it not your life is in danger.”“Then tell it to me.”“So I meant to do. But you were going to kill me, though I had not harmed you. Why, then, should I save your life?”“If you do not tell me I shall surely kill you.”“Then you will be killed yourself, for no one else will warn you.”“Tell me the plot, Ouyouboolooey, and your life is spared, and the lives of your tribe for ever.”“How do I know that you will keep your word? You will promise much, but how do I know that you will fulfil your promise?”“Ask of me what pleases you, and I will give it to you, to show I mean what I say.”“Then while I tell you the plot that threatens you, give me your hidden poison bag to hold. Then only shall I feel safe. Then only shall I tell you what was planned at the water-hole where the tribes meet to drink; where all said the Daens should be saved and your end assured. And surely it will be so if you do not know their plans.”Mungoongarlee asked Ouyouboolooey to name some other boon, and surely he would grant it; but his hidden poison bag would he give to none.“That is the way. You ask me to name what I want. I do so. You cannot grant it. So be it. Keep your poison bag. I will keep my plot.” And he moved as if to go.“Stay!” cried Mungoongarlee, who was determined to hear the plot at all risks.“Then let me hold the poison bag.”Mungoongarlee tried to induce Ouyouboolooey to make other terms, but in vain, so he gave in. Reaching into his mouth he drew the hidden poison bag out; then he tried to frighten Ouyouboolooey from taking it by saying:“The touch of it will poison one not used to handle it. I will put it beside me while you tell the plot against me.”“You will not do what I ask; I will go.” And he turned away.“Not so; not so!” cried Mungoongarlee. “Here, take it.”Assuming as indifferent an air as he could, Ouyouboolooey took the bag, and went back with it to his old place on the edge of the camp.“Now quickly tell me the plot,” said Mungoongarlee.“It was this,” said Ouyouboolooey, putting the poison bag into his own mouth. Then going on: “It was this. One of the tribes was to get this bag from you, and so take away your power to harm the Daens in the future. I vowed to do so before Yhi the sun went to her rest to-night. Not by strength could I do it. Nor by strength did I try to do it. Cunning I brought with me, and cunning has done it. Back I go now to tell the tribes.”And before Mungoongarlee had time to realise how he had been tricked, Ouyouboolooey was gone.After him went Mungoongarlee, but his meal had been heavy; he only caught Ouyouboolooey up in time to hear him tell the tribes that as he had said so had he done.“Give us then the poison bag that we may destroy it,” they said.“Not so,” said Ouyouboolooey. “None of you could get it. It is mine alone. I shall keep it.”“Then you shall never live in our camp.”“I shall come as I please to your camps.”“Then we shall slay you. You are not big as is Mungoongarlee.”“But I have the poison bag. Whosoever interferes with me surely shall he die.”And away went Ouyouboolooey with the poison bag, leaving Mungoongarlee to tell the tribes how he had been tricked.Ever since then the snakes have been poisonous, and not the iguanas, and there has been a feud between the snakes and the iguanas, who never meet without fighting. But though the snakes have the poison bag, they are powerless to injure the iguanas with it. For Mungoongarlee was a great wirreenun, and he knew of a plant which if eaten after snakebite made the poison powerless to kill or injure. Directly an iguana is bitten by a snake he rushes to this plant, and eating it, is saved from any evil consequences of the bite. This antidote has ever since been the secret of the iguana tribe, left in their possession by the Mungoongarlee who lost his poison bag by the cunning of Ouyouboolooey the black snake.
A famous hunter who lived in a remote part of the North had a fair wife and two sons, who were left in the lodge every day while he went out in quest of the animals whose flesh was their principal support.Game was very abundant in those days, and his labors in the chase were well rewarded. They lived a long distance from any other lodge, and it was seldom that they saw any other faces than those of their own household.The two sons were still too young to follow their father in the hunt, and they were in the habit of diverting themselves within reach of the lodge.While thus engaged, they began to take note that a young man visited the lodge during their father’s absence, and that these visits were constantly renewed.At length the elder of the two said to his mother:“My mother, who is this tall young man that comes here so often during our father’s absence? Does he wish to see him? Shall I tell him when he comes back this evening?”“Naubesah, you little fool,” said the mother, “mind your bow and arrows, and do not be afraid to enter the forest in search of birds and squirrels, with your little brother. It is not manly to be ever about the lodge. Nor will you become a warrior if you tell all the little things that you see and hear to your father. Say not a word to him.”The boys obeyed, but as they grew older and still noticed the visits of the stranger, they resolved to speak again to their mother.They now told her that they meant to make known to their father all that they had witnessed, for they frequently saw this young man passing through the woods, and he did not walk in the path, nor did he carry any thing to eat. If he had any message to deliver at their lodge, why did he not give it to their father? for they had observed that messages were always addressed to men, and not to women.When her sons spoke thus to her, the mother was greatly vexed.“I will kill you,” she said, “if you speak of it.”In fear they for a time held their peace, but still taking note that the stranger came so often and by stealth to the lodge, they resolved at last to speak with their father.Accordingly one day, when they were out in the woods, learning to follow the chase, they told him all that they had seen.The face of the father grew dark. He was still for a while, and when at length he looked up—“It is done!” he said. “Do you, my children, tarry here until the hour of the falling of the sun, then come to the lodge and you will find me.”The father left them at a slow pace, and they remained sporting away their time till the hour for their return had come.When they reached the lodge the mother was not there. They dared not to ask their father whither she had gone, and from that day forth her name was never spoken again in the lodge.In course of time the two boys had grown to be men, and although the mother was never more seen in the lodge, in charge of her household tasks, nor on the path in the forest, nor by the river side, she still lingered, ever and ever, near the lodge.Changed, but the same, with ghastly looks and arms that were withered, she appeared to her sons as they returned from the hunt, in the twilight, in the close of the day.At night she darkly unlatched the lodge-door and glided in, and bent over them as they sought to sleep. Oftenest it was her bare brow, white, and bony, and bodyless, that they saw floating in the air, and making a mock of them in the wild paths of the forest, or in the midnight darkness of the lodge.She was a terror to all their lives, and she made every spot where they had seen her, hideous to the living eye; so that after being long buffeted and beset, they at last resolved, together with their father, now stricken in years, to leave the country.They began a journey toward the South. After traveling many days along the shore of a great lake, they passed around a craggy bluff, and came upon a scene where there was a rough fall of waters, and a river issuing forth from the lake.They had no sooner come in sight of this fall of water, than they heard a rolling sound behind them, and looking back, they beheld the skull of a woman rolling along the beach. It seemed to be pursuing them, and it came on with great speed; when, behold, from out of the woods hard by, appeared a headless body, which made for the beach with the utmost dispatch.The skull too advanced toward it, and when they looked again, lo! they had united, and were making all haste to come up with the hunter and his two sons. They now might well be in extreme fear, for they knew not how to escape her.At this moment, one of them looked out and saw a stately crane sitting on a rock in the middle of the rapids. They called out to the bird, “See, grandfather, we are persecuted. Come and take us across the falls that we may escape her.”The crane so addressed was of extraordinary size, and had arrived at a great old age, and, as might be expected, he sat, when first descried by the two sons, in a state of profound thought, revolving his long experience of life there in the midst of the most violent eddies.When he heard himself appealed to, the crane stretched forth his neck with great deliberation, and lifting himself slowly by his wings, he flew across to their assistance.“Be careful,” said the old crane, “that you do not touch the crown of my head. I am bald from age and long service, and very tender at that spot. Should you be so unlucky as to lay a hand upon it, I shall not be able to avoid throwing you both in the rapids.”They paid strict heed to his directions, and were soon safely landed on the other shore of the river. He returned and carried the father in the same way; and then took his place once more where he had been first seen in the very midst of the eddies of the stream.But the woman, who had by this time reached the shore, cried out, “Come, my grandfather, and carry me over, for I have lost my children, and I am sorely distressed.”The aged bird obeyed her summons, and flew to her side. He carefully repeated the warning that she was not to touch the crown of his head; and he was so anxious that she should take it to heart, that he went over it a second and a third time, word by word. He begged her to bear in mind that she should respect his old age, if there was any sense of virtue left in her.She promised to obey; but they were no sooner fairly embarked in the stream, than she stealthily sought to disregard the warning she had received. Instantly the crane cast her into the rapids, and shook his wings as if to free himself of all acquaintance with her.“There,” said he, as she sunk in the stream, “you would ever do what was forbidden. In life, as you sought those you should have avoided, so now you shall be avoided by those who should seek you. Go, and be henceforth Addum Kum Maig!”The woman disappeared, was straightway carried by the rapid currents far out into the waters, and in the wide wilderness of shoreless depths, without companion or solace, was lost forever.The family of the hunter, grateful for his generous help, adopted the bird as their family emblem or mark, and under the guardianship of the Crane that Crossed the River, they prospered, with days of plenty and nights of peace.
Once, long ago when the Indians lived in Canada before the white men came, Rabbit was very lazy. He had worked long for Glooskap, the great ruler of the people, as a forest guide, but his toil was not appreciated or rewarded. He saw all the other animals idling their time away, taking their ease all day long, and doing nothing but filling their bellies with food, and sleeping all the afternoon in the hot sunshine. And he said, “Why should I work for other people when nobody works for me? I will take mine ease like all the other animals.”So he sulked in his little house for a long time and could not be coaxed or driven to do any work. But as he was a lonely fellow who always lived by himself with very few friends in the world except little children, he soon got tired of this lazy life. For by nature, he was industrious and energetic and he always liked to be doing something or prowling alone in the forest. So he said, “I must find some work to do or I shall surely lose my wits. But it must be labour that brings profit to myself and not to other people.”For a long time Rabbit puzzled his brains thinking of a business or a profession to follow. But nothing seemed to be to his liking. At last one day he saw some Indians trading skins and knives. One was selling and others were buying and they seemed to be making a great deal of money without doing very much work. Rabbit thought that here indeed was an easy way to make a living. Then he saw Duck coming along carrying a basket of eggs. He said to Duck, “How do you get along in the world? You seem to do nothing but eat and cackle and swim in the pond. You never seem to work.”And Duck said, “I lay eggs and sell them in exchange for corn. Why don’t you lay eggs? It is all very easy.” But Rabbit knew that Duck was only laughing at him, and that he was not meant to make a living in that way.Then he met Bee on the forest path and he said, “How do you make a living, you wandering bee? You do nothing but gad about all day long, going from flower to flower dressed in your good clothes of yellow and black and always singing your tuneless song?”And Bee said, “I make honey and wax and sell them. I have a great store for sale now. Why don’t you do as I do? I am always happy. I always sing at my work, and what’s more, my song is not tuneless. And just for your impudence, take that.” And so saying he stung Rabbit on the nose and went on his way, singing his droning song. Rabbit rubbed his nose in the earth to ease his pain and he swore vengeance on Bee, for he knew that Bee too was only laughing at him. But he could think of no way to make an easy living, for he had nothing to sell but his coat, and he could not very well barter that, for winter would soon be coming on. He was very angry and troubled and he envied Duck and Bee their good fortune because of their eggs and honey and wax.At last he thought of the Indians he had watched buying and selling skins. “I have it,” he cried, “I have it. I will become a great merchant. I will be a great trader. I will live on a farm where they grow corn and vegetables, and I will steal them and sell them to the other animals and thereby make a great store of money. I shall be very rich in a short time.” So, very happy, he went to a field near which was a vegetable garden. And in it were growing Indian corn and all kinds of grain, which he knew the other birds and animals would gladly buy. So he made a sign and put it up in front of his house, and it said, “Buy Rabbit’s corn, the best in all the land; it will grow without rain; there is only a small quantity left. Orders taken here.” Then he sat in his house and waited.Soon many buyers began to arrive. They were curious, and they wanted to see what kind of a merchant Rabbit would make. Rabbit explained to them that he was only an agent, that they must pay him their money, and he would take it to the farmer, and deliver their grain at his house one week from that day. The buyers paid him the money and went away, for they were afraid the farmer would kill them if they went themselves for the corn. They left a great store of money with Rabbit. That night when the moon rose over the hills Rabbit went to the field of corn nearby. But the farmer had spied him thieving that afternoon, and he had placed around his corn a fence of strong netting which poor Rabbit could not get through. And he had also placed around the field many watchdogs which growled and snarled and frightened thieves away. Night after night Rabbit tried to slip into the field, but without success, and the week passed and still he had no corn for the customers who, he knew, would soon be arriving for their goods. And meanwhile he had spent all their money and he knew they would all fall upon him and kill him if he failed to keep his word and deliver their purchases.At last when the day agreed on arrived, he saw his customers coming for their grain. And he hoped that his tricks would save him as they had saved him many times before. He sat in his yard playing his flute, when Earth-Worm, the first customer arrived. “Good day,” said Rabbit. “Good day,” said Earth-Worm, “I have come for my corn, for a week has gone by.”“Very good,” said Rabbit, “but first we shall have dinner. It will be ready in a few minutes. You must be hungry after your long journey.” As they sat waiting for their dinner they saw Duck, another customer, waddling up the path with her basket on her neck. And Rabbit said, “Will not old Duck who comes here want to eat you up?”And Earth-Worm said, “Yes, yes, where shall I hide?” and he was much excited. “Hide under this clam-shell,” said Rabbit. So Earth-Worm crawled under the clamshell and sat very still, trembling for his life.When Duck arrived, Rabbit said, “Good morning.” “Good morning, Mr. Merchant,” said Duck, wishing to be polite. “I have come for my corn, for it is the appointed day of delivery.”“True, true,” said Rabbit, “but first we shall have dinner. It will be ready in a few minutes. It will be an honor for me to have you dine with me.” As they sat waiting for their dinner, Rabbit said, “Would you care to eat an Earth-Worm before your dinner? It would be a good appetizer for you.”And Duck said, “Thank you very much. I am very fond of Earth-Worms.” Rabbit lifted the clam-shell and poor Earth-Worm was quickly gobbled up by Duck. And Rabbit, laughing to himself, thought, “Now I am getting rid of my customers.”As Rabbit and Duck sat talking, they saw Fox trotting up the path. He was another customer coming for his corn. And Rabbit said courteously, “Madam, I see your old enemy Fox approaching. He will probably wish to eat you up; you had better hide.”And Duck with her feathers all ruffled with excitement said, “Yes, yes, where shall I hide?” And Rabbit said, “Hide under this basket.” So Duck crawled under the over-turned basket and sat very still.Fox soon came in and said, “Good day, Rabbit. I have come for my corn, for I am in sore need of it to catch chickens, and the seven days have passed.”“You are very punctual,” said Rabbit, “but first let us have dinner. It will be ready in a few minutes. It will make you stronger to carry your heavy load.” As they sat waiting for their dinner, Rabbit said, “Listen, Fox. Would you care to eat a fat Duck now? It would be a tasty bit for you before you dine.”And Fox said, “You are very kind. I always like to eat a Duck before my dinner.” Rabbit knocked over the basket and Fox quickly devoured poor Duck until not a feather remained. And Rabbit laughed to himself and said, “Surely I am getting rid of my customers very easily.”As Rabbit and Fox sat talking over old times in the forest, they saw Bear, coming lumbering up the path, tossing his head from side to side, and sniffing the air. And Rabbit said, “Bear is in a bad temper to-day. I wonder what can be the cause.”And Fox said, “This morning I stole all his honey and he saw me running away.” “He scents you here,” said Rabbit, “will he not kill you if he finds you? Perhaps you ought to hide.” “Yes, yes,” said Fox, “but where shall I hide?” “Hide in this box,” said Rabbit, and Fox sprang into the box, and Rabbit closed down the lid.When Bear arrived he said gruffly, for he was in a bad temper, “Good day, Rabbit. I have come for my corn and I must have it quickly, for I must be on my way. It is the appointed time.”“It is indeed the appointed time,” said Rabbit, “but first we shall have dinner. It will be ready in a few minutes and I never let a wayfarer leave my house without first taking nourishment. I have today a dish of fresh fish which you like very well, and we have never yet dined together.” And Bear agreed to wait and his gruffness left him at the thought of his good meal, for he was a great fish-eater, and he talked pleasantly.Then Rabbit said, “I have a secret to tell you. Let me whisper it.” He put his mouth close to Bear’s ear and said, “Old Fox, the sly thief who stole all your honey this morning is hiding in the box by your side. He came here to boast about his theft and he laughed loudly to me as he told me how easily you were cheated. He called you Lack-Brains.”Bear was very angry and at once he knocked the lid from the box and killed Fox with one blow of his powerful paw. And Rabbit said to himself, “What luck I am having; there is another of my customers gone.” But he wondered how he was to get rid of Bear, and he scratched his head in thought.While Bear and Rabbit sat talking, they saw Rabbit’s last customer, the Hunter, coming along. Bear would have run away, but it was too late. “Will the Hunter not want to kill you?” said Rabbit, glad to think that here was the end of poor Bear.“Indeed, he will,” said Bear. “Oh dear, oh dear, where shall I hide?”“Hide under my bed in my house,” said Rabbit. Poor Bear quickly dashed into the house and crawled under Rabbit’s bed with great difficulty for he was very fat and the bed was very low and he had to lay himself out flat on the floor, but he was comfortable in the thought that he would soon escape.When Hunter arrived he said, “Good day, Rabbit, I have come for my corn, for my children need bread.”“You shall have it,” said Rabbit. “But first we must have a bite to eat. I have not very much to offer you, but I can give you in a few minutes some hot pancakes and fresh maple syrup.” The Hunter was well pleased with the thought of such a good meal and he said he would be glad to wait. Then Rabbit said, “Would you like some bear meat for your children, and a good warm bearskin for your hearth?”And the Hunter said, “Indeed, I would. But in these days such luxuries are hard to find.” And Rabbit said, “Oh no, they are not; under my bed in my house, a good fat bear is hiding. He is lying flat on his back, and you can easily kill him.” The Hunter hurried to the house, and sure enough there he found Bear hiding under the bed, flat upon his back. He killed him with a blow and skinned him and cut him up into small pieces and put the meat and the skin into a bag to take home to his children.But while he was about it, Rabbit slipped away into the forest, saying to himself, “Now I have got rid of all my customers and I am safe. But the life of a merchant is not to my liking. I will not be a trader any more. I will gather corn for myself, but not to sell to others.” And he ran quickly away and hid himself in a dense thicket.When the Hunter went to look for Rabbit, he could not find him, nor was he able to find his grain. And although he thought he had fared pretty well by getting so much bear meat, he swore vengeance on Rabbit for his deceit, and to this day he searches for him, and if he meets him, he will not let him escape. And Rabbit lives by himself and keeps away from the Hunter as far as he can, for he fears him because of the trick he played upon him in the olden days.
Long ago there was a poor little orphan boy who had no home and no one to protect him. All the inhabitants of the village neglected and abused him. He was not allowed to sleep in any of the huts, but one family permitted him to lie outside in the cold passage among the dogs who were his pillows and his quilt. They gave him no good meat, but flung him bits of tough walrus hide such as they gave to the dogs, and he was obliged to gnaw it as the dogs did, for he had no knife.The only one who took pity on him was a young girl, and she gave him a small piece of iron for a knife. “You must keep it hidden, or the men will take it from you,” she said.He did not grow at all because he had so little food. He remained poor little Quadjaq, and led a miserable life. He did not dare even to join in the play of the boys, for they called him a “poor little shriveled bag of bones,” and were always imposing upon him on account of his weakness.When the people gathered in the singing house he used to lie in the passage and peep over the threshold. Now and then a man would take him by the nose and lift him into the house and make him carry out a jar of water. It was so large and heavy that he had to take hold of it with both hands and his teeth. Because he was so often lifted by his nose, it grew very large, but he remained small and weak.At last the Man in the Moon, who protects all the Eskimo orphans, noticed how the men ill-treated Quadjaq, and came down to help him. He harnessed his dappled dog to his sledge and drove down. When he was near the hut he stopped the dog and called, “Quadjaq, come out.”The boy thought it was one of the men who wanted to plague him, and he said, “I will not come out. Go away.”“Come out, Quadjaq,” said the Man from the Moon, and his voice sounded softer than the voices of the men. But still the boy hesitated, and said, “You will cuff me.”“No, I will not hurt you. Come out,” said the Moon Man.Then Quadjaq came slowly out, but when he saw who it was he was even more frightened than if it had been one of the men standing there. The Moon Man took him to a place where there were many large boulders and made him lie across one as if he were to be paddled. Quadjaq was scared but he did not dare disobey.The Man from the Moon took a long, thin ray of moonlight and whipped the boy softly with it.“Do you feel stronger?” he asked.“Yes, I feel a little stronger,” said the lad.“Then lift yon boulder,” said the Man.But Quadjaq was not able to lift it, so he was whipped again.“Do you feel stronger now?” asked the Man.“Yes, I feel stronger,” said Quadjaq.“Then lift the boulder.”But again he was not able to lift the stone more than a foot from the ground, and he had to be whipped again. After the third time he was so strong that he lifted the boulder as if it had been a pebble.“That will do now,” said the Man from the Moon. “Rays of light even from the Moon give you strength. To-morrow morning I shall send three bears. Then you may show what power you have.”The Man then got into his sledge and went back to his place in the Moon.Every time a moonbeam had hit Quadjaq he had felt himself growing. His feet began first and became enormously large, and when the Man left him, he found himself a good-sized man.In the morning he waited for the bears, and three bears did really come, growling and looking so fierce that the men of the village ran into their huts and shut the doors. But Quadjaq put on his boots and ran down to the ice where the bears were. The men peering out through the window holes said, “Can that be Quadjaq? The bears will soon eat the foolish fellow.”But he seized the first one by its hind legs and smashed its head on an iceberg near which it was standing. The next one fared no better. But the third one he took in his arms and carried it up to the village and let it eat some of his persecutors.“That is for abusing me!” he cried. “That is for ill-treating me!”Those that he did not kill ran away never to return. Only a few who had been kind to him when he was a poor skinny boy were spared. Among them, of course, was the girl who had given him the knife, and she became his wife.
Of course fashions change, and no one need be surprised to find that crimson kilts were soon “out,” while the Piccaninny girls were to be seen walking about in pretty little white, frilly petticoats made out of clematis blossoms, and sun hats of the same flowers.The hats were rather silly, because the Piccaninnies lived so deep in the Bush that the sun couldn’t hurt them, but then fashions are absurd. (Look at the ladies who wear fur coats in hot climates!)The boys made no change because their kind of fashion doesn’t change, except sometimes you take great pains to iron the crease out of them, and other times you iron it in most carefull-ee.For some reason the boys didn’t like the girls’ change of frocks. Of course, they said, the girls would never play with them now, but the girls said oh yes, they would. The boys said:“You’d be scared to play berry fights like we used to.”But the girls said, as brave as could be:“Would we?”And the boys answered:“Let’s see you then!”So they all ran off and collected puriri berries, big purply red ones, rather squashy. Then the boys all yelled in chorus:Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!Tenei te tangata puhuru huruNa na nei i tiki mai—whaka whiti te ra! Upane! Upane! Upane!kaupani whiti te ra!which means something very warlike, and the girls answered shrilly:Ka whawhai tonu! Ake! Ake! Ake!They said that because they had heard that someone had said that sometime about something, and it means “we will fight for ever and ever.”But they didn’t! At the very first volley the berries stained their dainty frocks, and the girls fled, screaming angrily:“You horrid things! You’ve ruined our frocks!”And the boys grinning delightedly, and rolling their black eyes, thumped their little brown heels on the ground, and beat their little bare, brown knees and chanted all together:“Akarana Mototapu Rangitoto Ra!”And of course you all know what that means! You don’t? Well, I’m not quite sure myself, because I couldn’t find it in the dictionary (so careless of Mr. Webster!) but it really doesn’t matter.
In the far East, somewhere on the borders of Persia, there was once an extensive kingdom, over which ruled the good Sultan Abu Hafiz.	The land was rich and fruitful; the trade prosperous; the people happy.Yes! almost everybody in the kingdom was happy and gay, the only sorrowful person being the Sultan himself, and he was sadly wretched. He would walk on the terraces of his magnificent palace, and look over the fair gardens, but he never smiled, not even at the lovely goldfish that peered at him from out the crystal basins of the diminutive fountains.The good Sultan, Abu Hafiz, had never been known to smile since the day when they brought home the beautiful Sultana Arizade dead. She had gone out walking one day, accompanied by her women, when at the very gate of the palace garden a great monster had bounded across her path, which so frightened the Sultana that she swooned away, and never recovered consciousness again. The faithful servants did all they could to restore their beloved mistress to life, but in vain—the sweet lady was dead; and they had to return to their lord bearing the dead body of his beautiful wife.The Sultan rent his clothes, and tore his beard in his despair. He ordered his Court to go into mourning, and then for months no one ever saw his face. After a while, however, the affairs of State, and other matters of importance, claimed his attention, and he appeared again. He was just as good and kind as ever, and listened to the claims of his poorest subjects with the same patience as formerly, but he was no longer merry, and even his little son never saw him smile.At last, his melancholy growing deeper and deeper, his subjects began to fear that grief would eventually kill him, so his Ministers held council as to what could be done to rouse the Sultan from his apathy, and it was decided that the Grand Vizier, Ben Achmed, should approach his master on the subject of a second marriage.Accordingly, Ben Achmed, seeing the Sultan one day more self-absorbed than ever, threw himself at his feet, and said:—“Your Majesty, pardon the liberty an old and faithful subject is taking with you, but it is time that your mourning should cease. Your perpetual sadness causes all your people to lose heart, and really affects your entire nation. Laughter is banished from your kingdom; even trade is at a standstill. It is your solemn duty to rouse yourself from your grief; therefore, I, in the name of all your people, pray you most humbly to marry again some very beautiful Princess, who will cheer your Majesty and heal your sorrow.”Needless to say that, at first, the Sultan refused to listen to such a proposition, but at last his sense of duty to his people prevailed, and he consented to marry again, provided a Princess could be found as beautiful and as virtuous as the dead Sultana. Then the Vizier despatched ambassadors to countries near and distant, in order to discover a lady worthy of becoming Abu Hafiz’s wife. At length one of the ambassadors, who had travelled very far, saw a Princess who was famous alike for her beauty, her wealth, and her accomplishments. She was the widow of a young Prince who had been killed in battle, and she was in every way fitted to share the throne of Abu Hafiz, and be a second mother to his son.	To this match, however, there existed an impediment. The Princess had a son whom she would not leave. The ambassador, however, wrote such a glowing account of her exquisite beauty, her enchanting voice, her wisdom and goodness, that at last the Sultan decided to formally ask her to become his wife. He despatched a thousand messengers bearing costly presents, and a guard of honour composed of three hundred of the finest and bravest young noblemen in the land, with orders to bring the Princess and her son and all her retinue back to his kingdom.	Arrangements were made in the palace for a grand wedding, the city was gaily decorated, and a feast prepared to welcome the wonderful Princess.The Sultan sent his Vizier to the city gate, and he himself received her on the steps of the grand entrance to the palace. The Princess was certainly all that the ambassador had painted her; a more stately and beautiful lady could hardly have been imagined. Abu Hafiz was quite charmed, and, taking her hand, he led her to the banqueting hall, where he placed her near him on his throne of gold.	Her conversation pleased him even more than her beauty, for her voice was sweet, and she talked ably and with sense upon in many subjects.For three days the festivities were kept up, during which time all descriptions of gorgeous spectacles, of the most lavish splendour, were displayed before the new Sultana. The guests returned to their homes at the end of the festivities, and life at the palace resumed its normal course.Insensibly the new Sultana took the place of the good lady who had met with such an untimely end. She exercised boundless influence over the good Sultan, Abu Hafiz, over his court, and his entire kingdom.The new Sultana was very proud, and although very generous, her good acts did not win the love of the people among whom she had so recently taken up her abode. When the fascination that her beauty excited had diminished, the people noticed that their new queen was gradually using her influence to supplant, in favour of her own boy, her husband’s son in his rights to the throne. The rightful heir was now a handsome young Prince, and both court and people felt that he would emulate his father’s justice and wisdom.The Sultana and her son were very jealous of his popularity, and many were the plots they hatched together to try and injure him, unknown to Abu Hafiz. This was well nigh impossible, as the young Prince was always with his father, and continually surrounded by a faithful and devoted body guard. At last the Sultan, who was now getting quite old, became tired of the cares and responsibilities of his State, so he called his wife and his son to him one day, and told them that he had fully made up his mind to abdicate in favour of his young heir, and hoped the latter would soon marry a Princess as good and beautiful as his mother had been, and become a wise and just ruler, as he had always endeavoured to be.This did not suit the Sultana’s plans at all. If the young Prince Al Hafiz once gained the throne, the difficulties of doing away with him would become almost insurmountable.That night she and her son Ben Haroun held a long consultation as to what had best be done. Prince Al Hafiz had already chosen a bride, a sweet lady, at his father’s court, and whom he had loved for some time. The Sultan had consented to their union, and in three days they were to be married.After the wedding, Abu Hafiz would formally resign the crown to his son, and retire with his wife and stepson into private life. This was a very serious state of things. The Sultana and Ben Haroun resolved to strike a sudden and decisive blow, and that very night, when every one in the palace was asleep, they went out and consulted the celebrated magician, Abraduz, who had come over from the far East in the Sultana’s retinue.They found him in his cavern brewing magic potions in curiously shaped goblets. A tall peaked cap was on his head, and his beard was so long that it swept the ground round him where he sat.Without even looking up he said to the Sultana—“I know what you want, and why you are here to-night; you want to destroy the young prince, Al Hafiz. I cannot do it; magic cannot kill, though it can do many things.”“You must help me,” the Sultana said, her eyes glistening with rage; “for if magic cannot kill, my sharp dagger can, and unless you do as I bid you. . . . . . .”“I am not afraid,” the old man said, “but I will help you, because you have all been good to me, and because I know that the young prince hates all magicians, and when once Sultan, he will probably expel them from his country. But kill him I cannot; I have not the power. However, I have a potion here, which, if you put one drop on the prince’s threshold, will, the moment he treads on it, change him into a black cat. A cat is easily destroyed. But remember, on the night of every new moon my power ceases, and the prince will resume his human form for six hours.	Therefore, lay your plans carefully, for the cat once dead, no one can ever know who was instrumental in his destruction.”Saying which, the old magician seized a long wand, and drawing a magic circle round a skull, into which he had poured some dark liquid, he began his incantation, the Sultana and the Prince watching him with eager curiosity. He murmured strange words, and mixed curious ingredients with his potion, some frog’s legs, and skins of spotted snakes, a shark’s tooth, and unicorn’s horn. When he had finished, he picked up the skull and handed it to the Sultana, who carried her precious burden back with her to the palace.It was yet night, and no one was about in the Palace, and the Sultana unable to contain her impatience, stole on tiptoe to Prince Al Hafiz’s door. Two faithful negroes lay on the step, to prevent any one having access to their master.	These were, however, fast asleep. The Sultana cautiously, but rapidly, poured some of the contents of the skull on the threshold, and fled back to her own chamber.The next day every one in the Palace was profoundly agitated, and anxious, for the young Prince Al Hafiz had disappeared, as though the earth had engulphed him. His two negro attendants strongly asserted that no one had crossed the threshold of his apartments. They saw him come out of his room, and then something occurred which neither of them could exactly describe.	The young Prince absolutely seemed to vanish, and not a trace could be found of him anywhere. Search was made throughout the entire kingdom, but it was useless, the young heir had disappeared. His beautiful young bride, and the good Sultan, nearly went mad with grief, nothing could console them, and the Palace became more gloomy than it had been after the death of the first Sultana.The only joy the poor old Sultan knew in all this trouble was the affection of a strange and beautiful Angora cat, which had haunted the Palace ever since the disappearance of the	young Prince. It would sit for hours on his knee, and look at him with great and almost reproachful eyes, and the Sultan would stroke its soft fur, and somehow its eyes would remind him of his lost son.Naturally the Sultana was not content for matters to remain as they were; the night of the new moon was rapidly approaching, and pussy must be got rid of before then. But this was a very difficult matter, for the Sultan would not allow the cat out of his sight. It sat on his knee most of the day, and slept on the foot of his bed at night.One night, however, everything seemed to favour the Sultana’s plans, it was a very hot and dark night, and the Sultan had been persuaded to take a sleeping draught to cure him from the restless nights he had been spending since the disappearance of his son.	The Sultana waited till everything was quiet in the Palace, and then went quietly to her lord’s bedside, and threw a thick cloth over the cat’s head as it lay curled up asleep. Poor pussy! it tried to struggle, knowing in whose hands it had fallen, but the wicked Sultana hurried with it to the window which overlooked the terrace, and beyond that the lake, and taking hold of the cat’s paws hurled it as far as her strength could send it towards the lake.She heard a cry and a splash, but did not dare look out, and crept noiselessly to bed. The next morning she got up happy, knowing that at last her hated stepson was out of her way for ever, when going down the marble steps of the terrace whom should she see but pussy sitting drying his still wet fur in the sun, and grinning at her triumphantly. She did not dare express any surprise, and eagerly waited to hear an explanation of the event.The young Princess, who had been betrothed to Al Hafiz, had been out bathing with her attendants in the lake that night, when suddenly they saw poor pussy dropping apparently from nowhere, and seemingly not relishing his rapid descent. In a moment they had formed a circle, and picked puss up in their arms, just as he fell with a splash into the lake.	He got a ducking, which no cat relishes, but still he was unhurt, and, when the sun rose, they deposited him on the terrace, where it took him hours to restore his fur to its original sleek condition.The Sultana was quite unable to conceal her rage when she heard this account, and from that moment never attempted to hide her antipathy to the black cat, and it required all the Sultan’s watchful care to prevent her murdering his pet, even before his eyes. The night for the new moon was now drawing very near, and plan after plan did the Sultana and her stepson concoct, but every time they failed, for pussy was so cunning that it always managed to evade its enemies, and sought protection with the Sultan or the young Princess.At last the very night had come. The moon would rise in a few hours, and something must be done at once. Fortune favoured the Sultana; her lord was closeted with his Grand Vizier, discussing affairs of State, and pussy was roaming about the palace seeking for the young Princess, who had gone out for a midnight ramble. Prince Ben Haroun went to the lake and caught a beautiful young trout, which he left fastened to his line, then he and the Sultana hid behind the pillars of the terrace and waited.Presently pussy came out. He thought he sniffed the delicious smell of freshly caught trout, and stepped cautiously on the terrace to see if he had not been deceived. There, sure enough, on the marble steps, lay the silvery fish. Pussy found it quite irresistible, and ventured a little nearer. The trout appeared to go back at this, and, as pussy again approached, the trout again drew off.This was very odd. The fish was certainly very tempting, but would it be safe to venture so near those mysterious pillars? Pussy pondered for one moment, then made one spring at the trout.	Alas! in an instant he was seized, a cloth thrown over his head, and, worse than all, felt a heavy stone was adjusted round his neck, and he was being carried towards the lake.	Struggles, scratches, bites, were useless; he was absolutely at the mercy of his enemies, and not a soul was in sight.He heard his wicked stepmother say, “Quick, the lake is not far; quick, before the moon rises. I can see a light towards the east.”And then all his hopes sank, for the cloth was taken from his head, and he saw the Sultana’s wicked eyes glaring at him, while Ben Haroun prepared to hurl him into the water. Poor pussy was so small and so defenceless, his struggles were useless; he felt, indeed, his end had come. . . . At that very moment, the thin, pale crescent of the new moon emerged from the clouds in the east, and a second later Ben Haroun was wrestling with his brother Al Hafiz, while the Sultana had fled in terror.Al Hafiz felt the strength of a giant in him, and with little difficulty he overpowered and made a prisoner of Ben Haroun.When the Sultan heard the story of his wife’s and stepson’s villainy, he was beside himself with rage, and ordered that both should be expelled his domains, and forbidden to return on penalty of death. As for the wicked old magician, he was hanged the next morning, and I think, dear little readers, that he well deserved it.The good old Sultan was now so happy to have found his son, whom he had believed dead, that he quite forgot all his past troubles. There was a gorgeous wedding in the Palace for the young couple, and I have no doubt that if we were to go to that distant kingdom on the borders of Persia we should find the Sultan Abu Hafiz, the young Prince Al Hafiz and his wife, and probably also the Vizier, Ben Achmed, living happy and prosperous, even to this day.
In the time of Schlauraffen I went there, and saw Rome and the Lateran hanging by a small silken thread, and a man without feet who outran a swift horse, and a keen sharp sword that cut through a bridge. There I saw a young ass with a silver nose which pursued two fleet hares, and a lime-tree that was very large, on which hot cakes were growing. There I saw a lean old goat which carried about a hundred cart-loads of fat on his body, and sixty loads of salt. Have I not told enough lies? There I saw a plough ploughing without horse or cow, and a child of one year threw four millstones from Ratisbon to Treves, and from Treves to Strasburg, and a hawk swam over the Rhine, which he had a perfect right to do. There I heard some fishes begin to make such a disturbance with each other, that it resounded as far as heaven, and sweet honey flowed like water from a deep valley at the top of a high mountain, and these were strange things. There were two crows which were mowing a meadow, and I saw two gnats building a bridge, and two doves tore a wolf to pieces; two children brought forth two kids, and two frogs threshed corn together. There I saw two mice consecrating a bishop, and two cats scratching out a bear’s tongue. Then a snail came running up and killed two furious lions. There stood a barber and shaved a woman’s beard off; and two sucking-children bade their mother hold her tongue. There I saw two greyhounds which brought a mill out of the water; and a sorry old horse was beside it, and said it was right. And four horses were standing in the yard threshing corn with all their might, and two goats were heating the stove, and a red cow shot the bread into the oven. Then a cock crowed, Cock-a- doodle-doo! The story is all told Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had made for her a little red riding-hood; which became the girl so extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding-Hood.One day her mother, having made some custards, said to her:“Go, my dear, and see how thy grandmamma does, for I hear she has been very ill; carry her a custard, and this little pot of butter.”“Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village.” Illustration by Walter Crane. Published in Little Red-Riding Hood by Walter Crane (1875), George Routledge and Sons.Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village.As she was going through the wood, she met with Gaffer Wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he dared not, because of some faggot-makers hard by in the forest. He asked her whither she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and hear a wolf talk, said to him:“I am going to see my grandmamma and carry her a custard and a little pot of butter from my mamma.”“Does she live far off?” said the Wolf.“Oh! ay,” answered Little Red Riding-Hood; “it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first house in the village.”“Well,” said the Wolf, “and I’ll go and see her too. I’ll go this way and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.”“The little girl went by that farthest about, diverting herself in gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such little flowers as she met with. ” Illustration by Walter Crane. Published in Little Red-Riding Hood by Walter Crane (1875), George Routledge and Sons.The Wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way, and the little girl went by that farthest about, diverting herself in gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such little flowers as she met with. The Wolf was not long before he got to the old woman’s house. He knocked at the door—tap, tap.“Who’s there?”“Your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood,” replied the Wolf, counterfeiting her voice; “who has brought you a custard and a little pot of butter sent you by mamma.”The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out:“Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.”The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then presently he fell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it was above three days that he had not touched a bit. He then shut the door and went into the grandmother’s bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood, who came some time afterward and knocked at the door—tap, tap.“Who’s there?”Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the big voice of the Wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grandmother had got a cold and was hoarse, answered:“‘Tis your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood, who has brought you a custard and a little pot of butter mamma sends you.”The Wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could:“Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.”Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.The Wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bed-clothes:“Put the custard and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come and lie down with me.”Little Red Riding-Hood undressed herself and went into bed, where, being greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her night-clothes, she said to her:“Grandmamma, what great arms you have got!”“That is the better to hug thee, my dear.”“Grandmamma, what great legs you have got!”“That is to run the better, my child.”“Grandmamma, what great ears you have got!”“That is to hear the better, my child.”“Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!”“It is to see the better, my child.”“Grandmamma, what great teeth you have got!”“That is to eat thee up.”And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding-Hood, and ate her all up.Note: There are two versions of the story of Little Red Riding Hood available on our site. Folklore specialists estimate there have been at least 58 versions of this story known in the world. Most people may be familiar with the The Brothers Grimm version, and you’ll find it under the name “Little Red-Cap.”
A duck once arrived from Portugal. There were some who said she came from Spain, but that is almost the same thing. At all events, she was called the Portuguese duck, and she laid eggs, was killed and cooked, and that was the end of her.The ducklings which crept forth from her eggs were also called Portuguese ducks, and about that there may be some question. But of all the family only one remained in the duck yard, which may be called a farmyard, since the chickens were admitted to it and the cock strutted about in a very hostile manner.“He annoys me with his loud crowing,” said the Portuguese duck, “but still, he’s a handsome bird, there’s no denying that, even if he is not a duck. He ought to moderate his voice, like those little birds who are singing in the lime trees over there in our neighbor’s garden—but that is an art only acquired in polite society. How sweetly they sing there; it is quite a pleasure to listen to them! I call it Portuguese singing. If I only had such a little singing bird, I’d be as kind and good to him as a mother, for it’s in my Portuguese nature.”While she was speaking, one of the little singing birds came tumbling head over heels from the roof into the yard. The cat was after him, but he had escaped from her with a broken wing and so came fluttering into the yard. “That’s just like the cat; she’s a villain,” said the Portuguese duck. “I remember her ways when I had children of my own. How can such a creature be allowed to live and wander about upon the roofs? I don’t think they allow such things in Portugal.”She pitied the little singing bird, and so did all the other ducks, who were not Portuguese.“Poor little creature!” they said, one after another, as they came up. “We can’t sing, certainly; but we have a sounding board, or something of the kind, within us, though we don’t talk about it.”“But I can talk,” said the Portuguese duck. “I’ll do something for the little fellow; it’s my duty.” So she stepped into the watering trough and beat her wings upon the water so strongly that the little bird was nearly drowned. But the duck meant it kindly. “That is a good deed,” she said; “I hope the others will take example from it.”“Tweet, tweet!” said the little bird. One of his wings was broken and he found it difficult to shake himself, but he quite understood that the bath was meant kindly, so he said, “You are very kind-hearted, madam.” But he did not wish for a second bath.“I have never thought about my heart,” replied the Portuguese duck; “but I know that I love all my fellow creatures, except the cat, and nobody can expect me to love her, for she ate up two of my ducklings. But pray make yourself at home; it is easy to make oneself comfortable. I myself am from a foreign country, as you may see by my bearing and my feathery dress. My husband is a native of these parts; he’s not of my race, but I am not proud on that account. If any one here can understand you, I may say positively that I am that person.”“She’s quite full of portulak,” said a little common duck, who was witty. All the common ducks considered the word “portulak” a good joke, for it sounded like “Portugal.” They nudged each other and said, “Quack! that was witty!”Then the other ducks began to notice the newcomer. “The Portuguese has certainly a great flow of language,” they said to the little bird. “For our part, we don’t care to fill our beaks with such long words, but we sympathize with you quite as much. If we don’t do anything else, we can walk about with you everywhere; that is the best we can do.”“You have a lovely voice,” said one of the eldest ducks; “it must be a great satisfaction to you to be able to give as much pleasure as you do. I am certainly no judge of your singing, so I keep my beak shut, which is better than talking nonsense as others do.”“Don’t plague him so,” interrupted the Portuguese duck; “he requires rest and nursing. My little singing bird, do you wish me to prepare another bath for you?”“Oh, no! no! pray let me be dry,” implored the little bird.“The water cure is the only remedy for me when I am not well,” said the Portuguese. “Amusement, too, is very beneficial. The fowls from the neighborhood will soon be here to pay you a visit. There are two Cochin-Chinese among them; they wear feathers on their legs and are well educated. They have been brought from a great distance, and consequently I treat them with greater respect than I do the others.”Then the fowls arrived, and the cock was polite enough to keep from being rude. “You are a real songster,” he said, “and you do as much with your little voice as it is possible to do; but more noise and shrillness is necessary if one wishes others to know who he is.”The two Chinese were quite enchanted with the appearance of the singing bird. His feathers had been much ruffled by his bath, so that he seemed to them quite like a tiny Chinese fowl. “He’s charming,” they said to each other, and began a conversation with him in whispers, using the most aristocratic Chinese dialect.“We are of the same race as yourself,” they said. “The ducks, even the Portuguese, are all aquatic birds, as you must have noticed. You do not know us yet—very few, even of the fowls, know us or give themselves the trouble to make our acquaintance, though we were born to occupy a higher position in society than most of them. But that does not disturb us; we quietly go our way among them. Their ideas are certainly not ours, for we look at the bright side of things and only speak of what is good, although that is sometimes difficult to find where none exists. Except ourselves and the cock, there is not one in the yard who can be called talented or polite. It cannot be said even of the ducks, and we warn you, little bird, not to trust that one yonder, with the short tail feathers, for she is cunning. Then the curiously marked one, with the crooked stripes on her wings, is a mischief-maker and never lets any one have the last word, though she is always in the wrong. The fat duck yonder speaks evil of every one, and that is against our principles; if we have nothing good to tell, we close our beaks. The Portuguese is the only one who has had any education and with whom we can associate, but she is passionate and talks too much about Portugal.”“I wonder what those two Chinese are whispering about,” whispered one duck to another. “They are always doing it, and it annoys me. We never speak to them.”Now the drake came up, and he thought the little singing bird was a sparrow. “Well, I don’t understand the difference,” he said; “it appears to me all the same. He’s only a plaything, and if people will have playthings, why let them, I say.”“Don’t take any notice of what he says,” whispered the Portuguese; “he is very well in matters of business, and with him business is first. Now I shall lie down and have a little rest. It is a duty we owe to ourselves, so that we shall be nice and fat when we come to be embalmed with sage and onions and apples.”So she laid herself down in the sun and winked with one eye. She had a very comfortable place and felt so at ease that she fell asleep. The little singing bird busied himself for some time with his broken wing, and at last he too lay down, quite close to his protectress. The sun shone warm and bright, and he found it a very good place. But the fowls of the neighborhood were all awake, and, to tell the truth, they had paid a visit to the duck yard solely to find food for themselves. The Chinese were the first to leave, and the other fowls soon followed them.The witty little duck said of the Portuguese that “the old lady” was getting to be quite a “doting ducky.” All the other ducks laughed at this. “‘Doting ducky,'” they whispered; “oh, that’s too witty!” Then they repeated the joke about “portulak” and declared it was most amusing. After that they all lay down to have a nap.They had been lying asleep for quite a while, when suddenly something was thrown into the yard for them to eat. It came down with such a bang that the whole company started up and clapped their wings. The Portuguese awoke, too, and rushed over to the other side of the yard. In doing this she trod upon the little singing bird.“Tweet,” he cried; “you trod very hard upon me, madam.”“Well, then, why do you lie in my way?” she retorted. “You must not be so touchy. I have nerves of my own, but I do not cry ‘Tweet.'”“Don’t be angry,” said the little bird; “the ‘Tweet’ slipped out of my beak before I knew it.”The Portuguese did not listen to him, but began eating as fast as she could, and made a good meal. When she had finished she lay down again, and the little bird, who wished to be amiable, began to sing:“Chirp and twitter,The dewdrops glitter,In the hours of sunny spring;I’ll sing my best,Till I go to rest,With my head behind my wing.”“Now I want rest after my dinner,” said the Portuguese. “You must conform to the rules of the place while you are here. I want to sleep now.”The little bird was quite taken aback, for he meant it kindly. When madam awoke afterwards, there he stood before her with a little corn he had found, and laid it at her feet; but as she had not slept well, she was naturally in a bad temper. “Give that to a chicken,” she said, “and don’t be always standing in my way.”“Why are you angry with me?” replied the little singing bird; “what have I done?”“Done!” repeated the Portuguese duck; “your mode of expressing yourself is not very polite. I must call your attention to that fact.”“There was sunshine here yesterday,” said the little bird, “but to-day it is cloudy and the air is heavy.”“You know very little about the weather, I fancy,” she retorted; “the day is not over yet. Don’t stand there looking so stupid.”“But you are looking at me just as the wicked eyes looked when I fell into the yard yesterday.”“Impertinent creature!” exclaimed the Portuguese duck. “Would you compare me with the cat—that beast of prey? There’s not a drop of malicious blood in me. I’ve taken your part, and now I’ll teach you better manners.” So saying, she made a bite at the little singing-bird’s head, and he fell to the ground dead. “Now whatever is the meaning of this?” she said. “Could he not bear even such a little peck as I gave him? Then, certainly, he was not made for this world. I’ve been like a mother to him, I know that, for I’ve a good heart.”Then the cock from the neighboring yard stuck his head in and crowed with steam-engine power.“You’ll kill me with your crowing,” she cried. “It’s all your fault. He’s lost his life, and I’m very near losing mine.”“There’s not much of him lying there,” observed the cock.“Speak of him with respect,” said the Portuguese duck, “for he had manners and education, and he could sing. He was affectionate and gentle, and those are as rare qualities in animals as in those who call themselves human beings.”Then all the ducks came crowding round the little dead bird. Ducks have strong passions, whether they feel envy or pity. There was nothing to envy here, so they all showed a great deal of pity. So also did the two Chinese. “We shall never again have such a singing bird among us; he was almost a Chinese,” they whispered, and then they wept with such a noisy, clucking sound that all the other fowls clucked too. But the ducks went about with redder eyes afterwards. “We have hearts of our own,” they said; “nobody can deny that.”“Hearts!” repeated the Portuguese. “Indeed you have—almost as tender as the ducks in Portugal.”“Let us think of getting something to satisfy our hunger,” said the drake; “that’s the most important business. If one of our toys is broken, why, we have plenty more.”
Ruarangi’s wife was so beautiful that the Fairy King fell in love with her and carried her off to his fairy city. There he said a charm that caused her to forget her former life, her husband and her home. When Ruarangi came home at night to find his house empty, his beloved wife gone, his grief was terrible. After a fruitless search he went to a Magician. “Find out where my wife is,” he begged.“What will you give me for my services?” asked the Magician.“Half my crop of sweet potatoes.”“Good. I will find her.”He made his magic ring and looked through his magic eyes. “Your wife is in the city of the Fairy King,” he said at last. “The Fairy King has said a charm to make her forget you and her home. You must go to the fairy city for her. I will say a spell that will cause her to re member everything when you appear.”He said the spell. When he had finished he said, “Take red ochre with you to rub on your wife’s skin. The fairies will then be powerless to touch her.”Ruarangi set off, taking red ochre with him. After many days of travelling, he reached the fairy city, a quaint cluster of peaked houses built on a flat-topped hill. He climbed the hill and walked through the city, but houses and streets were empty. Not a fairy was to be seen.Ruarangi’s beautiful wife walked on the sports ground with the Fairy King, watching with idle eyes the racing, jumping and throwing of the fairy people. Suddenly, as Ruarangi’s foot touched the empty fairy city on the neighbour hill, the Magician’s spell did its work. In a flash her memory came back.“My husband! My Ruarangi!” she thought. “What magic has bound me? I must escape.”Two fairies wrestled on the course. The King and all his people watched with eager interest. “I wish to speak to your brothers behind us, ” she said to the King. He nodded permission, his eyes on the performers. She turned and walked downhill, stopping but a moment to speak to the King’s brothers. Once out of sight, she hurried on, meaning to escape. Passing through the fairy city , she met her husband looking for her. “Ruarangi! My husband! Take me home,” she cried.Ruarangi’s heart sang for joy. He rubbed red ochre on her face and neck, that no fairy spell should overtake her. Then he took her home. When they reached their country, a great feast of welcome was given by their friends, for joy at their safe return.On the sports-ground the Fairy King waited for Ruarangi’s wife. When she did not return, he sent a messenger for her. The messenger brought word that she had gone on to the city.“It is well,” said the King. “She rests. She has but mortal strength.”When the sports were over the fairies all went home, but she was not in the city. No clue was left but the prints of footsteps down the hill. The King examined the footprints.“They are those of Ruarangi and his wife,” he cried. “He has dared to enter my city and take her from me. He shall be punished. She shall return. Bring the army together with all speed. In three days we march of Ruarangi’s city.”For two days the fairy army prepared their weapons and exercised themselves; on the third day they marched for Ruarangi’s home, the Fairy King at their head.Through the land the alarm was spread by swift-footed messengers: “The Fairy King draws near with his army.”“Prepare for war,” Ruarangi commanded.“There is no need,” said the Magician. “There is a better way.”“Tell us,” said Ruarangi. “What shall I receive for helping you?”“The other half of my crop of sweet potatoes.”“Good. Then listen to my words. You can not fight the fairies. Their magic power would render you defenseless. But there are two things against which they have no power: red ochre and the steam of cooked food. Smear yourselves, your fences, and your houses with red ochre; cook food and set it steaming on your posts and roofs. Thus the fairy army will possess no power to harm you or your homes.”The people listened, and obeyed the words of the Magician. While the men rubbed red ochre over everything, the women cooked great quantities of food and set it steaming on the posts and roofs. With a loud battle-cry, the fairy army drew up in front of the waiting city. A gust of hot steam answered them; the crimson glow of red ochre flashed on their dismayed eyes. “Magic!” they cried in consternation. They turned to fly.The Fairy King stood forth and called them to endure it. “I will overpower their magic!” he said. Standing in front of his army, he began to chant an incantation that should remove the paint and food. His fairies, listening, took courage to endure the horrid glow and stifling steam. But the Magician, hearing the King’s words, sprang to the gateway of the city and chanted a spell to make the paint and food remain.More and more loudly they sang, each trying to out-chant the other. Meanwhile, the paint and the food did not move, a sign that the Magician’s power was stronger than the King’s.At last the Fairy King realized that he was beaten. Turning, he gave orders for retreat. The fairy army marched away, never to return. Ruarangi and his beautiful wife were saved by the Magician’s magic.
There was once on a time a Queen who had a little daughter who was still so young that she could not walk. One day the child was naughty, and the mother might say what she liked, but the child would not be quiet. Then she became impatient, and as the ravens were flying about the palace, she opened the window and said, “I wish you were a raven and would fly away, and then I should have some rest.” Scarcely had she spoken the words, before the child was changed into a raven, and flew from her arms out of the window. It flew into a dark forest, and stayed in it a long time, and the parents heard nothing of their child. Then one day a man was on his way through this forest and heard the raven crying, and followed the voice, and when he came nearer, the bird said, “I am a King’s daughter by birth, and am bewitched, but thou canst set me free.” “What am I to do,” asked he. She said, “Go further into the forest, and thou wilt find a house, wherein sits an aged woman, who will offer thee meat and drink, but thou must accept nothing; for if thou eatest or drinkest anything, thou wilt fall into a sleep, and then thou wilt not be able to deliver me. In the garden behind the house there is a great heap of tan, and on this thou shalt stand and wait for me. For three days I will come every afternoon at two o’clock in a carriage. On the first day four white horses will be harnessed to it, then four chestnut horses, and lastly four black ones; but if thou art not awake, but sleeping, I shall not be set free.” The man promised to do every- thing that she desired, but the raven said, “Alas! I know already that thou wilt not deliver me; thou wilt accept something from the woman.” Then the man once more promised that he would certainly not touch anything either to eat or to drink. But when he entered the house the old woman came to him and said, “Poor man, how faint you are; come and refresh yourself; eat and drink.” “No,” said the man, “I will not eat or drink.” She, however, let him have no peace, and said, “If you will not eat, take one drink out of the glass; one is nothing.” Then he let himself be persuaded, and drank. Shortly before two o’clock in the afternoon he went into the garden to the tan heap to wait for the raven. As he was standing there, his weariness all at once became so great that he could not struggle against it, and lay down for a short time, but he was determined not to go to sleep. Hardly, however, had he lain down, than his eyes closed of their own accord, and he fell asleep and slept so soundly that nothing in the world could have aroused him. At two o’clock the raven came driving up with four white horses, but she was already in deep grief and said, “I know he is asleep.” And when she came into the garden, he was indeed lying there asleep on the heap of tan. She alighted from the carriage, went to him, shook him, and called him, but he did not awake. Next day about noon, the old woman came again and brought him food and drink, but he would not take any of it. But she let him have no rest and persuaded him until at length he again took one drink out of the glass. Towards two o’clock he went into the garden to the tan heap to wait for the raven, but all at once felt such a great weariness that his limbs would no longer support him. He could not stand upright, and was forced to lie down, and fell into a heavy sleep. When the raven drove up with four brown horses, she was already full of grief, and said, “I know he is asleep.” She went to him, but there he lay sleeping, and there was no wakening him. Next day the old woman asked what was the meaning of this? He was neither eating nor drinking anything; did he want to die? He replied, “I am not allowed to eat or drink, and will not do so.” She, however, set a dish with meat, and a glass with wine before him, and when he smelt it he could not resist, and swallowed a deep draught. When the time came, he went out into the garden to the heap of tan, and waited for the King’s daughter; but he became still more weary than on the day before, and lay down and slept as soundly as if he had been a stone. At two o’clock the raven came with four black horses, and the coachman and everything else was black. She was already in the deepest grief, and said, “I know that he is asleep and cannot deliver me.” When she came to him, there he was lying fast asleep. She shook him and called him, but she could not waken him. Then she laid a loaf beside him, and after that a piece of meat, and thirdly a bottle of wine, and he might consume as much of all of them as he liked, but they would never grow less. After this she took a gold ring from her finger, and put it on his, and her name was graven on it. Lastly, she laid a letter beside him wherein was written what she had given him, and that none of the things would ever grow less; and in it was also written, “I see right well that thou wilt never be able to deliver me here, but if thou art still willing to deliver me, come to the golden castle of Stromberg; it lies in thy power, of that I am certain.” And when she had given him all these things, she seated herself in her carriage, and drove to the golden castle of Stromberg.When the man awoke and saw that he had slept, he was sad at heart, and said, “She has certainly driven by, and I have not set her free.” Then he perceived the things which were lying beside him, and read the letter wherein was written how everything had happened. So he arose and went away, intending to go to the golden castle of Stromberg, but he did not know where it was. After he had walked about the world for a long time, he entered into a dark forest, and walked for fourteen days without stopping, and still could not find his way out. Then it was once more evening, and he was so tired that he lay down in a thicket and fell asleep. Next day he went onwards, and in the evening, as he was again about to lie down beneath some bushes, he heard such a howling and crying that he could not go to sleep. And when the time came when people light the candles, he saw one glimmering, and arose and went towards it. Then he came to a house which seemed very small, for in front of it a great giant was standing. He thought to himself, “If I go in, and the giant sees me, it will very likely cost me my life.”At length he ventured it and went in. When the giant saw him, he said, “It is well that thou comest, for it is long since I have eaten; I will at once eat thee for my supper.” “I’d rather you would leave that alone,” said the man, “I do not like to be eaten; but if thou hast any desire to eat, I have quite enough here to satisfy thee.” “If that be true,” said the giant, “thou mayst be easy, I was only going to devour thee because I had nothing else.” Then they went, and sat down to the table, and the man took out the bread, wine, and meat which would never come to an end. “This pleases me well,” said the giant, and ate to his heart’s content. Then the man said to him, “Canst thou tell me where the golden castle of Stromberg is?” The giant said, “I will look in my map; all the towns, and villages, and houses are to be found in it.” He brought out the map which he had in the room and looked for the castle, but it was not to be found in it. “It’s no matter!” said he, “I have some still larger maps in my cupboard upstairs, and we will look in them.” But there, too, it was in vain. The man now wanted to go onwards, but the giant begged him to wait a few days longer until his brother, who had gone out to bring some provisions, came home. When the brother came home they inquired about the golden castle of Stromberg. He replied, “When I have eaten and have had enough, I will look in the map.” Then he went with them up to his chamber, and they searched in his map, but could not find it. Then he brought out still older maps, and they never rested until they found the golden castle of Stromberg, but it was many thousand miles away. “How am I to get there?” asked the man. The giant said, “I have two hours’ time, during which I will carry you into the neighbourhood, but after that I must be at home to suckle the child that we have.” So the giant carried the man to about a hundred leagues from the castle, and said, “Thou canst very well walk the rest of the way alone.” And he turned back, but the man went onwards day and night, until at length he came to the golden castle of Stromberg. It stood on a glass-mountain, and the bewitched maiden drove in her carriage round the castle, and then went inside it. He rejoiced when he saw her and wanted to climb up to her, but when he began to do so he always slipped down the glass again. And when he saw that he could not reach her, he was filled with trouble, and said to himself, “I will stay down here below, and wait for her.” So he built himself a hut and stayed in it for a whole year, and every day saw the King’s daughter driving about above, but never could go to her. Then one day he saw from his hut three robbers who were beating each other, and cried to them, “God be with ye!” They stopped when they heard the cry, but as they saw no one, they once more began to beat each other, and that too most dangerously. So he again cried, “God be with ye.” Again they stopped, looked round about, but as they saw no one they went on beating each other. Then he cried for the third time, “God be with ye,” and thought, “I must see what these three are about,” and went thither and asked why they were beating each other so furiously. One of them said that he had found a stick, and that when he struck a door with it, that door would spring open. The next said that he had found a mantle, and that whenever he put it on, he was invisible, but the third said he had found a horse on which a man could ride everywhere, even up the glass-mountain. And now they did not know whether they ought to have these things in common, or whether they ought to divide them. Then the man said, “I will give you something in exchange for these three things. Money indeed have I not, but I have other things of more value; but first I must try yours to see if you have told the truth.” Then they put him on the horse, threw the mantle round him, and gave him the stick in his hand, and when he had all these things they were no longer able to see him. So he gave them some vigorous blows and cried, “Now, vagabonds, you have got what you deserve: are you satisfied?” And he rode up the glass-mountain, but when he came in front of the castle at the top, it was shut. Then he struck the door with his stick, and it sprang open immediately. He went in and ascended the stairs until he came to the hall where the maiden was sitting with a golden cup full of wine before her. She, however, could not see him because he had the mantle on. And when he came up to her, he drew from his finger the ring which she had given him, and threw it into the cup so that it rang. Then she cried, “That is my ring, so the man who is to deliver me must be here.” They searched the whole castle and did not find him, but he had gone out, and had seated himself on the horse and thrown off the mantle. When they came to the door, she saw him and cried aloud in their delight. Then he alighted and took the King’s daughter in his arms, but she kissed him and said, “Now hast thou set me free, and to-morrow we will celebrate our wedding.”
Once there was a scholar who was reading in the upper story of his house. It was a rainy, cloudy day and the weather was gloomy. Suddenly he saw a little thing which shone like a fire-fly. It crawled upon the table, and wherever it went it left traces of burns, curved like the tracks of a rainworm. Gradually it wound itself about the scholar’s book and the book, too, grew black. Then it occurred to him that it might be a dragon. So he carried it out of doors on the book. There he stood for quite some time; but it sat uncurled, without moving in the least.Then the scholar said: “It shall not be said of me that I was lacking in respect.” With these words he carried back the book and once more laid it on the table. Then he put on his robes of ceremony, made a deep bow and escorted the dragon out on it again.No sooner had he left the door, than he noticed that the dragon raised his head and stretched himself. Then he flew up from the book with a hissing sound, like a radiant streak. Once more he turned around toward the scholar, and his head had already grown to the size of a barrel, while his body must have been a full fathom in length. He gave one more snaky twist, and then there was a terrible crash of thunder and the dragon went sailing through the air.The scholar then returned and looked to see which way the little creature had come. And he could follow his tracks hither and thither, to his chest of books.Note: This tale is also from the “Strange Stories.” The dragon, head of all scaled creatures and insects, hibernates during the winter according to the Chinese belief. At the time he is quite small. When the first spring storm comes he flies up to the clouds on the lightning. Here the dragon’s nature as an atmospheric apparition is expressed.
Wen-ter – once upon a time – long ago, six deer were lying in the sand talking and resting.“Let us go up on the mountain top and dance,” suggested one of the deer .“All right,” said the others, and they went to a broad sandy place on the mountain top and began to dance and sing:Mr. Coyote heard the deer singing, so he ran up on the mountain.“Good-day, Messrs. Deer, how happy and cheerful you sound. Let me dance with you.”“I am sorry,” replied the Chief of the Deer, “but nobody can dance with us who hasn’t antlers on his head.”“Won’t you make me some antlers, so that I can dance?” asked Mr. Coyote.“Certainly, I can do that,” replied Deer-Chief. So he took a sharp stone and sharpened the ends of two sticks; and then he hammered the sharp ends of the sticks into the coyote’s head to make antlers for him.Then Mr. Coyote joined in the dance, expecting very soon to grab one of the little deer and run away with it; but he only danced around the circle once before he dropped in a faint from the sticks in his head.He rolled over and over down the mountain side until he was covered with bruises, and he had to rub himself with herbs for many moons.
In a certain place lived a young housewife, whose name was Lidushka. One day, as she was washing linen in a rivulet, a large, swollen frog swam towards her, looking so ugly that Lidushka, alarmed at the sight of it, jumped back a pace or two. The ugly looking frog approached nearly to the spot where Lidushka had just been washing, spread its legs out on the top of the water, and opening its mouth as if it wished to say something, stood perfectly still.“You great, fat frog,” said Lidushka to herself; “what do you want here, and why do you open your mouth at me so?”She then threw a piece of linen that she happened to have in her hand at the frog, wishing to drive it away that she might go on with her washing. The frog dived, and before Lidushka had time to look about her, it reappeared at the other side of the water, and began to swim directly towards her. Lidushka again drove it away; but the frog would persist in swimming towards her, opening its mouth all the time; it would not be driven away, but continued to interrupt her in her work.“Go away, you great, fat thing!” cried Lidushka at last, quite angrily. “Let me know when you have got your baby, and I will come and be its godmother;” and she threw another piece of linen at the frog.“Very good, very good!” croaked the frog. Then it disappeared under the water, and disturbed Lidushka no more at her washing.Not long afterwards, Lidushka came again to the rivulet to wash her linen at the usual place, when suddenly, the same frog she had before seen, only that it was much thinner now, swam towards her.“I have got my children now,” croaked the frog, “and have come to ask you to be their godmother, as you promised.”Lidushka remembered that she had said, not long before, that if the frog had a little one, and would let her know, she would be its godmother; she therefore, although alarmed, did not refuse to do what she had once promised.“But you silly thing,” said Lidushka full of anxiety, “where am I to go with you to gratify your wish, and to fulfil my promise?”“Come, come, come!” croaked the frog, spreading out its legs and swimming on the water.The promised godmother followed it sorrowfully along the bank of the rivulet. The frog swam on until it came to a dam, when it stopped and croaked, “Fear not, fear not! Remove that stone, and under it you will see a flight of stairs; they will lead you down to my house. Come, come! I will go before you.”Having thus croaked, the frog disappeared under water, and the good-natured Lidushka saw no other way to get out of her trouble than simply to do what the frog told her. She removed the stone, and saw that there was really a flight of stairs leading under the dam. They were most wonderful stairs; neither of wood nor of stone, but as if made of the purest crystal, clear and transparent, like layers of water placed one below the other. Lidushka went timidly down a few steps, when the frog appeared hopping and croaking joyfully before her, because she was about to fulfil her promise of becoming godmother to its little ones. Lidushka, without further hesitation, descended the remainder of the beautiful steps. They soon reached the object they had in view—the frog’s house. It also was built entirely of crystal water. Like the stairs, by which they had come down, was the whole house—bright, sparkling, and transparent as crystal. The frog, full of joy, hopped about Lidushka, and took her to her little ones.When the ceremony was over, Lidushka, in fulfilment of her promise, having taken her part in it as a godmother, a splendid entertainment followed, to which many frogs from far and near had been invited. They all hopped about Lidushka, and croaked with great joy. There were various courses—boiled and pickled, roast and fried—but they all consisted of fish: the finest carp, jack, chad, trout, whiting, perch, and many other fish which Lidushka did not know even by name. She was amazed at the sight of all this. The dinner at an end, she took a walk about the house to see everything more closely.In the course of her walk, she came to a small room, which looked like the kitchen. It was full of long shelves, and on the shelves stood rows of little jars. Lidushka was much surprised when she noticed that all the jars stood upside down. She was curious to know what was under them, and lifted one up. In a moment a little white dove flew from under it, joyfully fluttered its wings, rose up and disappeared. Lidushka lifted another jar, and, oh, wonderful! there flew from it another beautiful white dove, which joyfully fluttered its wings, and also disappeared. Then Lidushka lifted a third jar, and a third white dove flew out of it, fluttered its wings with joy, rose up in the air and vanished from her sight. She wondered greatly why these little doves were here confined: for Heaven has given an immortal soul to man, that he may live for ever; and wings to the birds, that they may fly freely over the earth.“Oh, how cruel!” said Lidushka to herself, “to keep you here in everlasting darkness. Wait a moment, you dear little doves, and I will give you all your liberty.” Thus saying she began to raise the little jars, one after another, and as from the first three, there flew from each successive jar a white dove. As if wishing to thank her for their release from their dark prison, each of them fluttered its wings with joy, then rose up and disappeared in the air.Scarcely had Lidushka finished lifting up the little jars, when the mistress of the house, the ugly looking frog, hopped up to her croaking in a most dismal manner. She could see from afar what Lidushka was doing with the little jars.“Unhappy woman!” cried the frog; “why did you let those souls free? Quick! make haste and fly! Search for a lump of dry earth or a piece of toasted bread. There comes my husband! Quick! or he will rob you of your soul!”When the amiable Lidushka heard this dreadful croaking, she turned round to see from what quarter the husband was coming; but she could see nothing of him. Only at a distance she observed a few buds of a beautiful red water-plant floating towards her on the top of the water. Suddenly she remembered what she had often heard before, that the Water Demon sometimes shows himself on the surface of the water in the shape of a cluster of red flowers. He does this especially to young girls as they are haymaking near a stream or pond, to induce them to try to reach the flowers with their rakes. He then pulls them in and drowns them.Lidushka dashed up the stairs as fast as she could run, and fortunately reached the dry land in time. She was overjoyed at having released all the little white doves; they were the souls of the unfortunate people whom the Water Demon had drawn into his power, and had cruelly drowned. Each soul had been kept in a separate dark prison, in the shape of a little jar. Lidushka was the deliverer of them all.
Once upon a time there was a peasant, who led his cow to pasture in the spring, and prayed God to have her in His care.The evil one was sitting in a bush, heard him, and said to himself: “When things turn out well, they thank God for it; but if anything goes wrong, then I am always to blame!”A few days later the cow strayed into a swamp. And when the peasant came and saw her he said: “Look at that! The devil has had his finger in the pie again!”“Just what I might have expected,” thought the devil in his bush. Then the peasant went off to fetch people to help drag the cow out. But in the meantime the devil slipped from his bush and helped out the cow, for he thought:“Now he will have something to thank me for, too.”But when the peasant came back and saw the cow on dry land, he said: “Thank God, she’s out again!”
This is to be another sort of chapter altogether. I am going to tell you now what happened. The eighteen years are gone now and we have come to the time when there is something to tell.When those eighteen years began, you know, Kathleen and Terence were not much more than born. So, if you have got as far as addition and can add eighteen to nothing and find that it makes eighteen, you will see that by this time they were about eighteen years old. John O’Brien and his mother and Kathleen did not live on the east side of Central Park any more. John had got on better and better with the work that he was doing. After a while, instead of having to do work of common kinds any more, he had been put in charge of other men who were doing it. After another while he learned so much about the work and how it was done and how it ought to be done, that he was made one of the partners in the company that did it. So he got a good deal more money and he was able to take his mother and Kathleen out of the little tenement where she was born, and to live in a better place. Then he had a house of his own, over on the west side of the Park, and it was there that Kathleen lived when she was eighteen years old.Peter had not got along so well. John himself employed him, but Peter knew enough to go only just so far, and there he stuck. He lived in a little better place than he did at first, but he could never make his way like John. And then Terence, as he grew up, made a good deal of trouble. He never would learn anything useful and he never would do anything useful. He never helped his father at all, and always his father had to help him. If there was any fight or any accident or anything troublesome or wrong within a mile, Terence was always in the midst of it. He was constantly getting his head and his ribs broken, and Peter was always having to pay for other people’s things that he had broken, from their heads to their windows.Ellen’s excuse for him, that he was never well and had never been quite himself since he was born, was pretty well worn out. For, people said, he had always been exactly the same ever since he was born, and if that same was not himself, who was it? But Ellen kept saying it none the less. Many a time Mrs. O’Brien tried to make her believe that the boy was a changeling, and not her child at all, and many a time she begged Ellen to let her only try a charm to see if he was, but Ellen never would hear of it. She always said what she had said at first, that nobody knew him but her. She saw him better when she dreamed about him, for then she saw him as he really was, without all the harm that had been done to him by all the sickness that had been on him one time and another.You might suppose that anybody who could play the fiddle as well as Terence need not have any trouble in making his own living. He might have found a place in a theatre, like the man whose fiddle he had played on first. He might have taught others to play. Or he might have played all by himself, and hundreds of people would have paid to hear him. But he would play only when he chose, and he would never do anything useful with his fiddle. And everybody said he played so wonderfully—everybody except Kathleen.And this brings us back to Kathleen. Terence heard before he was many years old something about the plan that Peter and John had made, that he and Kathleen should be married when they grew up, if they both liked the plan. He seemed to forget all about this last part, “if they both liked the plan.” He liked the plan himself and he seemed to think that that was enough. He had talked about it to Kathleen many times, before they were both eighteen years old, and it troubled Kathleen so that she tried never to see Terence when she could possibly help it. She had always disliked him, though she had always tried not to show it; but as they got a little older and she found that there was no other way to keep away from him at all, she had to tell him so.But do you suppose that made any difference with Terence? Well, it did make a difference with him, but he did not let anybody see that it did. When Kathleen told him for the first time that she did not like him at all, he went away by himself. He went straight to the hill that is in the north end of the Park, and there he threw himself down on his face on the grass. For hours he lay there, trembling and crying, and beating the ground with his feet and his fists. And it would take another book as large as this to tell all that he was saying to himself or to the grass, or to something under the grass—how can I tell? And you would not want to read the book. It is not likely that you will ever see anybody in such a rage as he was in. But at the end of it he stood up and looked just as he usually did, and went straight to the O’Briens’ and stayed all the evening and kept as near Kathleen as he could, and stared at her all the time. And he talked to her then and afterward, just as if she had told him that she liked him better than anybody else that she knew.So Kathleen had to go to her grandmother, as she always did when she was in any trouble, and tell her all about it. And her grandmother told her that she and Terence were both a good deal too young to think of anything of the sort, and that she would do all that she could to help her. But she could not do much. She told John about it, and he said that he should be sorry if the plan that he and Peter had made could not be carried out, but he would forbid it himself, as long as Terence was so lazy and so worthless and so bad as he was now. When he got a little older, he hoped that everything would be better, and there was no hurry about anything.And though Terence made her so much trouble, Kathleen had many other things to think about. She went to school and learned a great deal, and her grandmother taught her a great deal more. Her grandmother told her stories still, and, though she was nearly eighteen and felt that she was getting so dreadfully old, she still liked stories. Then she had a good many friends, and she spent much of her time with them. She visited Ellen often, too, going to see her at times when she thought that Terence would not be at home. Ellen and Peter still lived on the east side of the Park, and some of her friends lived there, too, so that Kathleen often walked through the north end of the Park, near that hill that I have told you about so many times before.Kathleen was fond of this part of the Park, as everybody is who knows it. But especially she was fond of one little spot that nobody else seemed to notice much. So Kathleen got a feeling that this one place belonged to her, and she was all the more fond of it because of that. It was a tiny little basin of water, near the path, but up a grassy bank. On the side toward the path it was all open, but on the other side there were rocks, and out of a little cleft in the rocks ran a bit of a stream of water that fed the little basin. Then, around the rocks and over them there was more grass, and the hill rose at both sides and above. On the edge of the hill, right over the basin, was a pine-tree, and around it were other trees. Their branches came together over the water and almost shut out the sky from it, but not quite.Every time that Kathleen passed it, she went up the bank and looked into the still water. She had a feeling that if she ever went by and did not do this the water would miss her and would feel hurt. When she did this by daylight and in summer, if she stood up and looked into the water, she could see a patch of branches and green leaves and blue sky through them, about as big as the basin itself, and that was scarcely larger than a fair-sized tub. But if she stooped down close to the water and looked into it, she saw that there was a great deal of sky under it, below the trees, which grew upside down. There was almost as much sky under the water as she could see above it, and she believed that there would prove to be quite as much if she could only get her head where she could see it.She used to look in at night sometimes, too, and try to see if there were any stars in that sky; but in the summer she never could see any, because the leaves on the trees were so thick that they almost hid the sky, and they seemed to be thicker and to hide the sky more by night than they did by day. In the winter it was different. Then there were no leaves, but only branches and twigs, which covered the sky like lace work, and through these Kathleen sometimes thought that she could see a star or two in the water, but she was seldom quite sure. Yet she never passed the place without looking in it, to see the green leaves and the blue sky or the black leaves and the almost black sky, or the stars, if she could find any.On a certain day—the last day of April it was—there was a good deal of excitement in the fairy palace under the hill. The reason of it was that a new fairy had come to live there. Perhaps you never heard of a baby fairy. I have read a good many stories about fairies that said nothing about any such thing. Now, you needn’t try to be so bright about it and say that of course there must be baby fairies, or there could not be any grown-up fairies. That isn’t so at all. Fairies are not like men about growing old and dying and other fairies taking their places. I have heard of a fairy funeral, but I can’t imagine how it happened, and I think that the story about it must have been a mistake. If you have read this book as far as here, you know that most fairies are thousands of years old, and you know, too—for Naggeneen has told you—what is likely to become of them in the end. Still, there is no sort of doubt that now and then a new fairy is born, and there was one born on this day. He was the son of the King and the Queen, and you can guess well enough that a fairy prince is a person of some consequence.“What will we do at all for a nurse for the baby?” said the Queen.“What will we do at all?” said the King.“It never would do for me to have the care of him at the first,” said the Queen.“Never a bit,” said the King; “it would ruin him.”“How would it ruin him?” said the Queen.“Never a know I know, no more nor you,” said the King, “but you know as well as I it would ruin him.”“Why can’t I care for my own child?” said the Queen, “the same as a human mother does?”“I dunno,” said the King, “only we know you can’t. We’ve never dared try, to see what would happen. He must have a human nurse. Maybe it’s something to do with them things Naggeneen was always talking about our having no souls—”“Don’t be talking about Naggeneen,” said the Queen, “and me not well at all.” Then she was silent for a little while and then she went on talking about Naggeneen herself. “Are you sorry he left us?”“Who?” said the King.“Naggeneen,” said the Queen.“I’m not sorry,” said the King. “We’ve more peace without him. Though he was clever and he often told us the right thing to do and he might tell us the right thing to do now.”“Did he tell us the right thing to do when he told us to bring Terence here to learn the ways of men and to teach them to us?”“Sure Terence is a good boy,” said the King, “and he plays the fiddle as well as Naggeneen himself, so we don’t miss Naggeneen for the only thing that he was good for. And Terence is easier to have about other ways.”“But has he ever learned the ways of men and taught them to us?” the Queen asked.The King was getting annoyed. “He has learned them, I think,” he said, “but he has never taught them to us. And you know Naggeneen himself said the plan would be no use.”“He did,” said the Queen; “only you would try it. And just so all this talk is no use. What will we do for a nurse for the baby?”“We’ll find one some way,” the King answered. “Was you thinking of anyone in particular?”“I was not thinking of anyone in particular.”“How would Kathleen O’Brien do, do you think?” the King asked.“I don’t want to be troubling the O’Briens,” the Queen said, “and they always so kind to us.”“It would not be troubling them much; we’ld only keep her a little while and they’ld hardly miss her.”“If she was once here,” said the Queen, “some one of your men would want to keep her, and it would break the heart of her grandmother. So it would her father’s, too, but I’m not thinking so much of him.”“We’ll not keep her,” said the King, “only as long as the child needs her.”“You say that now,” said the Queen; “it would be different if she was once here—I’ld like to have her as well as anyone I know.”“We could find no one else so good,” said the King. “It’s May Eve, you mind. There’s no time when we have more power, and few when we have so much. We’ll all be dancing to-night, and Kathleen often passes along just about dark. It’s likely we could get her to dance with us, and then we’ld be sure enough of her. If that fails, there’s other ways. Our power lasts till sunrise.”“And you think we’ld not be keeping her long?” said the Queen.“We’ld have her home almost before she was missed,” the King answered.“I wouldn’t mind if you tried,” said the Queen.Kathleen had been to visit Ellen. She was on her way home through the Park, and she had meant to get there before dark, but it was a little later than she had thought, and she saw the red in the sky before her getting darker and duller every minute. As she walked along she saw two other girls of about her own age, whom she knew, in front of her. She overtook them and the three walked on together, though the others could scarcely keep up, Kathleen hurried so.When they were nearly through the Park they came to the little basin where the water ran down out of the rock. Though she wanted to get home so quickly, she could not pass this place without going up the bank and looking into the water, because she felt so sure that if she did not the water would miss her and feel hurt. She ran up the bank and looked into the still little pool. The other girls went on, and she heard one of them call after her: “Thought you were in a hurry!”Kathleen did not mind them, but only looked into the water, which was almost black, it was getting so dark all around. She had not seen the water look so dark in a long time. She looked up over her head and she saw that it was because the little new leaves had begun to come out on the trees and were beginning to hide the sky. She saw one or two of the brightest stars, that had already come out in the sky, and she looked back into the water and tried to see them there, but she could not find them. There was nothing but the little, still, black pool.She went back to the path and ran on after the other girls. She saw them walking on slowly, only a little way ahead of her. Just as she had nearly come up with them she stood still to look at a wonderful sight. She just thought dimly that it was strange that the other girls were not watching it, too, but the sight itself excited her so that she had not much time to think of that. On the grass, close beside the path, there were ever so many boys and girls—at least she thought at first that they were boys and girls—dancing. The grass in that place sloped upward from the path, and the ground was a little hollowed, in a sort of shell shape. All around the place, except where the path was, trees and bushes hung over the grass. The buds were just opening here, too, and the air was full of the smell of the new spring grass and leaves, which always grows stronger in the evening.Kathleen stood gazing at the boys and girls dancing. There were so many of them that she could not count them. She thought that they seemed to be a little younger and smaller than herself. The boys all wore green jackets and red caps. When she looked at them more closely she could not tell whether they were boys at all or not. They looked more like old men. And she could scarcely believe that either, because they danced so fast and seemed so lively. Her father could not dance like that, she was sure, and he was not an old man.But she had no doubt that the girls were girls. Usually she could not tell a pretty girl from an ugly one, any more than any other girl can, but she knew that these were pretty. Anybody would. They had long, golden hair that hung all loose and free and came down to their knees, when the little wind did not blow it away in some other direction. They had deep, soft eyes. They were dressed in long, white gowns, so white that they shone, now like a sheet of pale light and now with a hundred little sparkles, as the water of the sea does sometimes, when it is broken into foam by the prow of a ship. All the men carried lanterns and all the girls had something that looked like long flower-stems, only there were tiny lights on the ends of them, instead of flowers. These and the lanterns did not seem to trouble them at all in dancing, and if Kathleen had seen the lights and had not seen the dancers, she would have thought that they were a swarm of fireflies.She had scarcely stood there for a minute before one of the men came up to her and asked her to dance with him. Kathleen’s first thought was that she ought to be afraid, and her second thought was that she was not afraid a bit. She liked dancing and she had just been wishing that she could dance with these boys and girls. Then she wondered if it was quite right. Then she could not see what there could be wrong about it. Then she let the little man take her hand and she stepped off the path upon the grass and began to dance. She heard the other girls calling to her again, farther up the path. She called back to them: “I am coming in a minute! Wait for me!” And then she went on dancing.When she had been only looking on, the dancing had seemed to Kathleen to be quite wonderful, but now she found that she could do it all nearly as well as the little boys and girls. She thought that it might be because the little old man was a better partner for dancing than she had ever had before. They danced around by themselves, moving in and out among the others, no matter how close together they were, and always finding their way, now in the midst of the whole company and now out beyond the very edge of it, and then suddenly all the dancers would join hands and whirl about in a great circle, so fast that Kathleen could not tell whether her feet were touching the ground at all.It seemed to her that she had never done anything so delightful before. She did not think of going on with the other girls any more. She did not think of getting home early, or of anything but the dancing. She could not tell at all how long she had been dancing, but it was all dark, except for the little lanterns and the little lights on the flower-stems, and the stars were all out in the sky. And then somebody said: “It is time to go.”The man who had been dancing with Kathleen whispered to her: “You are to go with us.”And Kathleen thought of nothing but of going with the queer little old men and the beautiful little girls. They all left the shell-shaped grass-plot and moved along together—Kathleen could scarcely tell even now whether her feet were on the ground or not—over the grass, till they came to a little pool of water—Kathleen’s own little pool.She looked down into it, and there was no doubt about the stars now. There were hundreds of them down under the water, shining up through it from as far below, it seemed, as the stars in the sky were up above. The dancers who came to it first stepped on the surface of the pool, and it bore them up as if it had been a floor of glass. Then Kathleen saw that the rocks behind the pool were not as she had ever seen them before. There was an opening straight into the hill, and when she came nearer still she saw that the water was no longer a little pool. It was more like a long, narrow lake, and it covered the bottom of the opening that led into the hill. All the people were going in, walking along the path of water as easily as if it had been a path of ice.Again it seemed to Kathleen that she ought to be afraid, and again it seemed to her, still more clearly, that she was not afraid. When she came to the water she put her foot upon it and walked along it as easily as the others were doing. She thought that she would remember that this water could be walked on, and would try it the next day. She had never thought of trying it before.But now she and the others were moving along the path into the hill. It was still dark, except for the lights that they carried and the stars that shone up through the water. And these were not the reflection of any stars in the sky, for there was no sky to be seen over them now—only rocks. Then there was a pale violet light shining on the walls of the passage ahead of them. Then, as Kathleen looked down at the water again, to see if she were really walking on it, she saw that there were no more stars, but the water was of a faint, shining yellow, and in a moment she was not walking on water any more, but on a floor, that seemed to her to be all of gold.She could do nothing now but stand still and look around at the wonderful sight. All around her were walls of silver, so bright that they reflected everything in the great hall, and she could not tell at all how large it was. But she made out that in the middle was a great dome, held up by the most wonderful gleaming columns of gold and silver, first a column of gold and then a column of silver, and these she saw again and again in the walls all about. She could not see the top of the dome from where she stood, it was so high, but all around the sides of it she saw great diamonds and rubies and emeralds, some of them as big as her head, that poured down soft white and red and green lights, and these she saw, too, shining up, a little dimmer, from the gold of the floor, which was almost as good a mirror as the walls.The sides of the dome, in which the jewels were set, were all of bands and lines and ribbons of gold and silver, wonderfully woven together into shapes and patterns which she could not follow or trace out with her eyes, because they seemed to be always slowly moving—turning and twisting and winding and wreathing about, never for a moment the same, but always new and always beautiful. And when this was reflected in the golden floor it was like the wavering shapes in water that is almost still, but yet has little waves that dance and break up every reflection that is seen in it.And still, although she saw no lamps except the great white and red and green gems, there came from somewhere—perhaps from the top of the dome, she thought—that violet light that she had seen first on the walls of the passage, and it filled the whole hall, like the glow of a glorious sunset that never faded. And all this was inside a hill that Kathleen had known all the years of her life, and she had never seen anything wonderful about it.While Kathleen is wondering at the fairy palace I will explain to you the subject which you have been wondering about. If you only knew more we could get on with the story so much faster. It is most annoying. And you have been brought up so well too! I don’t see that it is anybody’s fault but your own. You have been wondering all along how it was that the fairies seemed to Kathleen to be, as I said, only a little smaller than herself, when you have always heard that fairies were so very little.Well, to think of your not understanding that! I am bound to say that when I was of your age I was just as ignorant about it as you are now, but then, children now have a good many more advantages than they had in my day. Considering how few advantages we had, it is a great credit to people of my age that we know anything at all, and, considering how many of them you have, it is a disgrace to you that you do not know everything.When I was a child I used to read about fairies, and the book would say that they were six inches tall, or that they were about as big as a man’s thumb, or it would tell about their sitting in flowers. And then I would look at the pictures and they would appear to be as high as a man’s knees, or even higher. And I could not understand it. But I made up my mind to find out about it. That is what you must do, when there is anything that you don’t understand. There are very few things that you can’t do, if you make up your mind to them, except things that are too hard for you. I hate to have morals getting into a story as much as you do, but that is such a good one that it might as well go in.Now I will tell you. Fairies can be of any size they like, and you never can tell what size they are going to be, from one minute to another. They can be giants, if they like. And as soon as they had Kathleen with them they could make her of any size they liked too. So as long as she was among them they could keep her and themselves just the same size, or as near to it as they liked.But when fairies are not taking the trouble to be of any particular size—when they are letting themselves alone, as you might say—then they are about six inches tall. And I think that is a very good size to be. It would be better if you were of that size. You wouldn’t eat so much and you wouldn’t be so much in the way, and you would be much better-looking. Just think: if your face were only three-quarters of an inch long, all those features of it that are so disagreeable wouldn’t show so plainly. You might even look rather pretty. You wouldn’t need to be so, but you might look so.And it would be so much easier to know where you were, if you were of that size, that it would save your mother a good deal of trouble. All she would have to do would be to put you on the mantelpiece, and then you could not get off without breaking your necks—and that would be such an advantage. I don’t mean that it would be an advantage to break your necks, because then who would read this book, and why should I take all this trouble to write it? I mean, it would be an advantage that you could not get off. Well, now you see how much better off you would be if you were only six inches tall, and now you understand about the fairies.While Kathleen was still wondering at the place that she was in, a man whom she had not seen before came up to her. He wore a crown, and she guessed at once that he was some sort of king. It did not surprise her to see a man with a crown. A man with a church steeple on his head would not have surprised her, by this time. “Come with me,” he said; “you’re wanted at once.”Kathleen followed him to the opposite side of the hall and through a door, into another room. It was much smaller than the hall, but it was just as beautiful, in its own way. There was a woman in this room—another of the beautiful girls, Kathleen would have said—lying on a gold couch. Her hair was hanging down over the pillow on which her head lay, so that Kathleen could scarcely tell which was the hair and which was the gold of the couch. There was a crown lying on a little table beside her, and so Kathleen guessed that she was the Queen. “Kathleen,” said the Queen, “do you know why they have brought you here?”“No, Your Majesty,” said Kathleen. She was not a bit frightened, any more than she had been all along, and she knew that that was the way to speak to a queen, just as well as if she had never spoken to anybody else in her life.“They brought you here, then,” said the Queen, “to take care of my baby; but he’ll not need you long, and then you can be going back home.”“I’m afraid,” Kathleen said, “that I don’t know how to take care of a baby very well. I might do something wrong with it. You see my mother died when I was born, and so I was the only baby that there ever was at our house, and I have hardly ever had anything to do with a real live baby.”“You’ve had something to do with them that was not alive, haven’t you?” the Queen asked.Kathleen smiled a little at that. “There were fifteen of them, I think,” she said.“Well, you’ll be having no more trouble with this one,” the Queen said, “than with any of those fifteen. Only do as you’re told. I can’t take care of it myself, because it’s the law that it must have a nurse that’s a mort—I mean it must have a nurse from outside this place. There’s the baby in the cradle there. Try can you make him go to sleep.”Kathleen went to the cradle and looked at the baby. It was wide awake and it stared at her like a little owl. Except for that, it looked like any other baby. The way that the baby stared at her came nearer to making Kathleen afraid than anything that she had seen yet. But she took him out of the cradle, sat down on a low seat that she found, began to rock him gently, and sang an old song that her grandmother used to sing to her and that she had sung to her own fifteen babies many a time.It was scarcely an instant before the baby was asleep. She put him back into the cradle and then turned to the Queen and said: “Shall I do anything more?”“Not now,” said the King; “come now and have something to eat and drink with us.”The Queen started at this and cried: “No, no!” but Kathleen did not know what she meant. She knew that she was very hungry, and she followed the King out of the room, back into the hall. Tables had been brought into the hall now, and they were all covered with things to eat that looked very good, and the men and women were sitting at the tables, eating and drinking and talking and laughing. They all stood up as the King came in, and waited till he had taken his place at the head of the table, and then they all sat down again, and the eating and drinking and talking and laughing went on.One of the men led Kathleen to a seat and put something to eat and drink before her. She did not know what it was, but it looked good. She was just going to taste it, when somebody touched her on the shoulder and somebody said: “Don’t eat that; don’t taste a bit of it.”She looked around and saw a boy—perhaps she would have said a young man—standing behind her. He was very different from all the other men. He did not look old, as they did. She thought that he was of about her own age, and he was taller than she, while all the others were shorter. “Don’t eat anything or drink anything that they give you,” he said again. “I will give you something to eat.”He sat down beside her and put a little package on the table before them. He opened it and took out some bread and meat, some strawberries, a little flask full of cream, and a larger one full of water. He gave Kathleen a part of all these and kept a part for himself. “I am not sure,” Kathleen said, “that I ought to let you talk to me, because, you see, I don’t know who you are.”She had let several people talk to her that evening, without knowing who they were, but this boy seemed to be somehow altogether different.“My name is Terence,” he said. “Now I know you are going to ask ‘Terence what?’ It’s Terence nothing; I have no name at all except Terence.”“I know a boy named Terence,” Kathleen said, “and I don’t like him a bit.”“I hope that won’t make any difference about your liking me,” said the boy.“Oh, not at all,” said Kathleen. “It isn’t his name that I don’t like; it’s himself. He is only just as old as I am, and he looks—” Kathleen stopped, surprised at herself, for she had not thought of it before. “He looks a little like these men here, who all seem to be so old; and, besides, he isn’t nice at all.”“Then let’s not talk about him,” said the boy. “Will you tell me what your name is?”“Oh, yes; didn’t I tell you? My name is Kathleen O’Brien.”“And must I call you Kathleen or Miss O’Brien? You see you will have to call me by my first name, because it is the only one I have, and so I think you ought to let me call you by your first name.”“But if you have only one name,” Kathleen said, “it is your last name just as much as it is your first, so perhaps you ought to call me by my last one.”“Oh, no,” Terence answered; “you see my name ought to be a first name, only I haven’t any last one, so I think I ought to call you by your first one.”Kathleen did not say that he might, but he afterward did. She thought that it would be better to change the subject. “It’s just as if we were at a picnic and had brought our own luncheon, isn’t it?” she said. “And all these other people are eating just as if they were at home. Why don’t we do the same way they do?”“Because,” Terence said, “we are not like them. We mustn’t talk about it aloud. You see they are the Good People, and we are not. I don’t know what I am at all, but you are like the people outside. I knew that as soon as I saw you, and I saw that they were going to let you eat their food. I almost wish I had let you do it now—no, I don’t wish so, either. It would be mean to let you, and I don’t want you to, anyway. You did come from outside, didn’t you? Well, then, you must not eat or drink the least bit of anything while you are here, except what I bring you. All that I bring you is from outside. If you eat a crumb or drink a drop of anything that they have here, you can never get out again.”“But they all get out,” said Kathleen. “They were all outside when I saw them first.”“Oh, yes,” Terence answered, “they are different. They can go out and come in whenever they like; but if anybody from outside eats anything here, he can never go out again. It is that way with me, too, for I am different from the Good People, though I don’t know whether I came from outside or not.”“You don’t know whether you came from outside or not?”“No. I came here when I was a little baby. I have often asked them how I came here, but they never would tell me. I have lived here ever since I can remember. Have you a father and a mother?”“My mother is dead,” Kathleen answered; “I have a father.”“Yes,” said Terence, as if he were trying to work out a puzzle. “Nearly all the people outside seem to have fathers and mothers. I never had either. I have always lived here, but nobody here is my father or my mother, and I don’t know how I came here. I have been here so long, and yet it seems so strange to me. This is my only home, and yet I never feel at home in it. I always feel as if I belonged somewhere else. I see the people outside and I feel as if I belonged with them more than here, yet I have never been outside this place one single night.”“You go out often in the daytime, then?” Kathleen asked.“Oh, yes; I go out every day, almost, and I go to school. Have you been to school?”“Why, of course,” Kathleen answered; “doesn’t everybody have to go to school?”“These people here never go to school,” Terence said. “I am the only one who goes, and then I have to try to teach them what I have learned. Do you go home from school and try to teach your father what you have learned?”“Why, no, indeed,” said Kathleen; “what a funny idea!”“Sometimes it seems funny to me too,” Terence said, “but you see I can’t tell whether it is funny or not, because I know so little about the people outside. I don’t like to ask them, because they would think it was so strange that I didn’t know; but it is different with you. You have come in here, and I can ask you things that I wouldn’t ask of people outside.”“If they want to know things,” said Kathleen, “why don’t they go to school themselves?”“I don’t know that, either,” said Terence, “but they seem to expect me to go to school for all of them. I think that is what I am here for. Before I was old enough to go to school at all they used to bring me things to eat from outside, because, you know, if I ate anything of theirs I never could go out. Then as soon as I was old enough to go to school, they sent me, and I came back every night, and they gave me money to buy all my own food outside, and I have done that ever since, and I have never eaten a bit of the Good People’s food.”“And don’t you like to stay here?” Kathleen asked. “It seems to me a very beautiful place.”“No,” said Terence; “they are very kind to me, but I think that I should like to live outside better, and I hope that I shall some time. And then, you see, if I ate anything here I could not go out to go to school, and so I could not teach them. And it is all so strange. It almost makes me cry, it is such a bother sometimes, and then they are so sorry about it themselves and I am so sorry for them, and it almost makes me laugh sometimes, because they can never learn anything. You will see. I think it is time now.”Some of the men were taking away the tables. “It is time for the lesson,” the King called out. Some of the other men brought in a big blackboard and set it up. Everybody stopped talking and laughing and stood near the blackboard. Terence made some lines and some letters on the board, with a piece of chalk.“I shall have to try again,” said Terence, “to prove to you the same thing that I tried to prove to you last night. But I’ll try a different way, and maybe you’ll see it better. Now mind, what I am to prove is this: if any triangle has two sides equal, the angles opposite those sides are also equal.”“And what difference does it make if they’re equal or not?” said one of the men who stood near Kathleen.“Be still there,” the King said; “do we want to make telephones or do we not? And sure we can’t make telephones without geometry. Hasn’t Terence told you that?”Terence went on: “Let ABC be any triangle in which the sides AB and AC are equal.”“How can it be any triangle, when it’s only one triangle?” said another of the men.“Keep your silly head shut,” said the King. “Terence didn’t say it was any triangle; he said let it be. Now will you let that triangle be, or will I come over there and make you let it be?”The man said nothing more and Terence went on: “Now, consider this triangle as two triangles, BAC and CAB.”“How can it be two triangles,” another of the men said, “when it’s only one triangle?”“Will you be still there?” the King said. “Terence doesn’t say it’s two triangles; he says you’re to consider it. Will you consider that triangle two triangles, or will I come over there and make you consider it two triangles?”“I’ll consider it seven triangles, if you like, Your Majesty,” the man answered, “but I dunno what good it’ll do me.”“Then consider it,” said the King, “and don’t talk about it. Go on, Terence.”“Now, you see that since the sides AB and AC in each triangle are equal, AB and AC in the first are respectively equal to AC and AB in the second, and the angles between these sides are equal. So the two triangles are equal, by previous proposition. And so the angles of one are equal to the angles of the other, where they are opposite the equal sides; that is, the angle ABC is equal to the angle ACB, being opposite the equal sides AC and AB, by the same previous proposition, and that is what I was to prove.”The King looked at the men with triumph in his eye. “There, you blackguards,” he said, “do you understand it at all, now that Terence has made it clear to you?”One by one the men and women began slowly to shake their heads. Not one of them understood it. “Well, Terence,” said the King, shaking his own head, “I dunno how it is; nobody could be asking you to make it any clearer than you have, and yet I’m obliged to say there’s never a bit of it I understand myself. Maybe to-morrow night you’ll be able to make us see it clearer.”Terence had come back to where Kathleen was. “Isn’t it funny,” he said, “and yet isn’t it a pity? I try to teach them as well as I can, but they never can understand at all.”“And do you mean to say,” said Kathleen, “that you haven’t got any farther in geometry than that? Why, that’s only the fifth proposition of the first book.”“Of course I’ve got farther than that,” Terence answered, “but they haven’t, and they never will. I have been trying to teach them that proposition—oh, I don’t know how long—and they never will learn it in the world. They want to learn to build railways and bridges and all sorts of things, but how can anybody even get ready to build a railway or a bridge till he’s got over this bridge and the rest of the geometry? I don’t know whether I can ever learn it all myself, but I’m going to the School of Engineering up at the University, next spring, to learn chemistry, and qualitative analysis, and calculus, and analytical mechanics, and graphical statics, and metallurgy, and thermodynamics, and hydraulics, and a lot of other things. But these people here will still be at work on this same triangle years after I am dead, if they have anybody to teach them.”“Now, Terence, my boy,” said the King, “there’s one thing you can do for us we can understand. Give us a tune out of the fiddle.”Kathleen was startled to hear this boy named Terence asked to play on the fiddle, just as if he had been the other Terence whom she knew. She wondered if he played like the other Terence. She scarcely dared wait to hear, and she felt as if she should like to run away, only she did not know where to run.But she did not think any more about running after Terence began to play. This was different. And yet in one way it was the same. For the music that Terence was playing was just the music that the other Terence often played and just what most people liked to hear him play best, though Kathleen had always liked it as little as anything else that he did. She had never heard anyone else play it till now. And now it was so different. She could scarcely tell the difference, and yet she could feel it in every clear note that Terence drew out with his bow.When she was a little girl, almost as long ago as she could remember, she used to say, when the other Terence played this very music, that it did not mean anything. But now it meant something. Meant something! It meant—everything, Kathleen thought, and yet she could not tell at all what it meant. It was not happiness that it meant, and it was not sorrow; it was not merry, and it was not grave. Sometimes it was light and gentle and sweet, and flowed along as if it were a little fountain of music, bubbling and bubbling out of a hidden place; then it would be slower, but fine and firm, and full and free and true. It seemed to Kathleen to mean so much, and yet she could not tell what, except that there was something like a deep longing that went all through it.And that made her think of the other Terence’s music again, for she remembered now, though she had never thought of it before, that there was a longing in his music too. Perhaps she had done wrong, she thought, to say that it did not mean anything. Still, this was so different. If the other Terence’s fiddle had ever seemed to be longing for anything, it had seemed to be hopeless, and the fiddle always seemed to be bitterly laughing at those who were listening to it and thinking that it was so fine. She had never thought of anything like this before, but it seemed clear to her now, listening to the same music played so differently. For now, below all the longing and sounding through it, there were strength and hope and life and faith in something good.I do not say that Kathleen thought all this out while she was listening. She only felt the most of it. But she felt it so much that she scarcely knew what she was doing, and she moved by little and little toward Terence, till she was nearer to him than anybody else, and looked at him as if he were something more wonderful than she had ever seen before, till she found that she could not look at him, because her eyes were wet. And then the music stopped.Then said the King: “I said that was something that we could understand, Terence, but I dunno if it is. It’s the wonderful player you are all out, but I never heard you play like that before, and I think there’s something in it that’s more than I can find out. That’s enough of it for to-night.”Terence had already come back to Kathleen. She could scarcely speak to him even yet. “Who taught you to play like that?” she said.“I don’t quite know,” he answered, “whether anybody taught me. They taught me to play here, and the music that I just played is their music, but I don’t play it the way they do. I don’t know why that is. Just as soon as they had taught me so that I could play at all, I began to play in my own way. Their music is sweet and bright and merry and sparkling, and sometimes it seems to be sad, but it never means anything.”Kathleen was startled again to hear Terence say the very words that she had said so many times about the other Terence’s music. “But I never played before in my life,” Terence went on, “the way I have been playing just now. I think it was because you were here. You understood, and so I thought of nothing but you all the time that I was playing, and I think it made me play better. They never understand. They love music and they hate geometry, but they understand one just as well as the other.”The King came up to Kathleen and said: “It is time for you to come and be looking after the child again.”Kathleen went with him and he led her back into the room where the Queen was. “Where is the box of ointment?” the King said to the Queen.“I have it here under my pillow,” the Queen answered; “come here and get it, Kathleen.”The Queen took something from under her pillow and held it so that Kathleen had to come close to her to get it. “Did you eat anything?” the Queen asked, as Kathleen bent over her.Kathleen did not quite know whether she ought to answer or not, but the Queen looked at her so kindly that she thought that there could be no harm, and she said: “Only what Terence gave me.”“That was right,” said the Queen, and then she went on, speaking louder, so that the King could hear: “Take this box of ointment. In the morning, as soon as the baby is awake, take him out of the cradle and wash him, and then just touch his eyes with this ointment; but be careful that you do not touch your own eyes with it.”Kathleen took the box, which seemed to be of solid gold, and looked at it. What was in it looked like a soft, green salve. She slipped it into the pocket of her gown. “How shall I know when it is morning?” she asked. It seemed to her that here under the hill there would not be much difference between night and day.“You’ll know it’s morning when the child wakes up,” the Queen said; “or when you wake up yourself, for that matter. You can go to bed now. There’s your bed, next to the cradle.”The King left them, and Kathleen, who was really very tired, lay down on another gold couch, almost like the Queen’s, that had been placed near the cradle, and in a minute she was asleep.It seemed scarcely another minute before she was awake again. She remembered that the Queen had said that when she awoke it would be morning, and she looked to see if the baby was awake too. He was, and she took him out of the cradle. Then she saw a large gold basin full of water. She washed the baby in it, and he stared at her all the time, with big, owlish eyes. Then she took the box of ointment out of her pocket. She touched it with her finger and then touched each of the baby’s eyes with it. Instantly his eyes looked brighter and deeper, and instead of staring at her stupidly, as they had done before, they seemed to look straight through her. Nothing had frightened her at all, and now she was getting so that nothing startled her. So she only laid the baby back in his cradle and put the box of ointment into her pocket.In a moment the King came in and said it was time for breakfast. He and the Queen went out into the hall together and Kathleen followed them. As soon as she was in the hall she saw Terence. He was looking for her and they sat down and ate breakfast together. Then Terence went away.All day, except when it was time for meals, Kathleen sat with the Queen or looked after the baby, though there was really nothing to do for him. Whenever it was time for a meal they went out into the hall, and there Kathleen always found Terence, and she always ate with him, and ate only what he brought her.In the evening the King came to her and said, “Kathleen, it is time for us to go and dance again; come with us.”Then Terence took her by both hands and said, “Don’t go with them; don’t go; if you do, I am afraid that you will never come back.”“Of course I shall come back,” she said; “you have been very kind to me, and I would come back to see you again, if it was for nothing else. And then I don’t know whether I must do anything more for the baby. And then—” Kathleen stopped short as she thought. “I ought not to come back—not to-night! I ought to go home! Oh, how anxious my father and my grandmother must be about me! I have been here all night and all day, and they must think that I am dead. And I have not thought of them the whole time. I am wicked to have stayed here so long.”“Then you will not come back,” Terence said. “You know why I brought you all that you have had to eat and to drink. It was so that you might leave this place. I might have let you eat their food, and then you could never leave it, unless to go out with them and dance on their green and then come back again. I made it so that you could go, and now you will go and you will not come back.”“I will come back,” Kathleen answered, “but I must see my father and my grandmother and tell them that I am safe. Perhaps I will come back to-morrow, if I can, but I will come back. I would come back just because you wanted to see me, you have been so good to me. It was very good of you, if you wanted me to stay, to bring me the things to eat and drink, so that I could go if I liked.”“No, it was not good of me at all,” Terence answered; “I had no right to let them keep you here always, even if I wanted you to be here. But I hoped and I always hope that I shall leave this place some time myself, and I did not want to have to leave you here. I would not have left you here. Promise that you will come back.”“I will come back,” Kathleen answered.“Come along now,” said the King, hurrying up to Kathleen again. “It’s time we were dancing this minute.”All the little men and women were moving out of the hall and Kathleen went with them. In an instant they were again in the passage that Kathleen remembered. The floor was of gold, like the floor of the hall, and then she saw that she was walking on the water once more. The yellow glow was under it still, but fainter than in the hall. The violet light on the walls of the passage grew dimmer; she saw the lights that the men and women carried, shining ahead of her and all around her. Then she looked down at the water and saw the stars shining up through it, as if there were another sky far down under her feet. And then—she felt the cool, fresh breath of the outside air, and it was delicious to her, and she was standing on her own little pool, and deep down under it there were thousands of stars. She and all the others walked—or drifted, as it seemed to Kathleen—up the bank of sweet-smelling new grass, to the little hollowed place, with the trees and the bushes growing around it and hanging over it, where Kathleen had first seen the Good People. And then they began the dance.
There was once on a time a hermit who lived in a forest at the foot of a mountain, and passed his time in prayer and good works, and every evening he carried, to the glory of God, two pails of water up the mountain. Many a beast drank of it, and many a plant was refreshed by it, for on the heights above, a strong wind blew continually, which dried the air and the ground, and the wild birds which dread mankind wheel about there, and with their sharp eyes search for a drink. And because the hermit was so pious, an angel of God, visible to his eyes, went up with him, counted his steps, and when the work was completed, brought him his food, even as the prophet of old was by God’s command fed by the raven. When the hermit in his piety had already reached a great age, it happened that he once saw from afar a poor sinner being taken to the gallows. He said carelessly to himself, “There, that one is getting his deserts!” In the evening, when he was carrying the water up the mountain, the angel who usually accompanied him did not appear, and also brought him no food. Then he was terrified, and searched his heart, and tried to think how he could have sinned, as God was so angry, but he did not discover it. Then he neither ate nor drank, threw himself down on the ground, and prayed day and night. And as he was one day thus bitterly weeping in the forest, he heard a little bird singing beautifully and delightfully, and then he was still more troubled and said, “How joyously thou singest, the Lord is not angry with thee. Ah, if thou couldst but tell me how I can have offended him, that I might do penance, and then my heart also would be glad again.” Then the bird began to speak and said, “Thou hast done injustice, in that thou hast condemned a poor sinner who was being led to the gallows, and for that the Lord is angry with thee. He alone sits in judgement. However, if thou wilt do penance and repent thy sins, he will forgive thee.” Then the angel stood beside him with a dry branch in his hand and said, “Thou shalt carry this dry branch until three green twigs sprout out of it, but at night when thou wilt sleep, thou shalt lay it under thy head. Thou shalt beg thy bread from door to door, and not tarry more than one night in the same house. That is the penance which the Lord lays on thee.”Then the hermit took the piece of wood, and went back into the world, which he had not seen for so long. He ate and drank nothing but what was given him at the doors; many petitions were, however, not listened to, and many doors remained shut to him, so that he often did not get a crumb of bread.Once when he had gone from door to door from morning till night, and no one had given him anything, and no one would shelter him for the night, he went forth into a forest, and at last found a cave which some one had made, and an old woman was sitting in it. Then said he, “Good woman, keep me with you in your house for this night;” but she said, “No, I dare not, even if I wished, I have three sons who are wicked and wild, if they come home from their robbing expedition, and find you, they would kill us both.” The hermit said, “Let me stay, they will do no injury either to you or to me,” and the woman was compassionate, and let herself be persuaded. Then the man lay down beneath the stairs, and put the bit of wood under his head. When the old woman saw him do that, she asked the reason of it, on which he told her that he carried the bit of wood about with him for a penance, and used it at night for a pillow, and that he had offended the Lord, because, when he had seen a poor sinner on the way to the gallows, he had said he was getting his deserts. Then the woman began to weep and cried, “If the Lord thus punishes one single word, how will it fare with my sons when they appear before him in judgment?”At midnight the robbers came home and blustered and stormed. They made a fire, and when it had lighted up the cave and they saw a man lying under the stairs, they fell in a rage and cried to their mother, “Who is the man? Have we not forbidden any one whatsoever to be taken in?” Then said the mother, “Let him alone, it is a poor sinner who is expiating his crime.” The robbers asked, “What has he done?” “Old man,” cried they, “tell us thy sins.” The old man raised himself and told them how he, by one single word, had so sinned that God was angry with him, and how he was now expiating this crime. The robbers were so powerfully touched in their hearts by this story, that they were shocked with their life up to this time, reflected, and began with hearty repentance to do penance for it. The hermit, after he had converted the three sinners, lay down to sleep again under the stairs. In the morning, however, they found him dead, and out of the dry wood on which his head lay, three green twigs had grown up on high. Thus the Lord had once more received him into his favour.
In a field one summer’s day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart’s content. An Ant passed by, bearing along with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. “Why not come and chat with me,” said the Grasshopper, “instead of toiling and moiling in that way?” “I am helping to lay up food for the winter,” said the Ant, “and recommend you to do the same.” “Why bother about winter?” said the Grasshopper; we have got plenty of food at present.” But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. When the winter came the Grasshopper had no food and found itself dying of hunger, while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the Grasshopper knew: It is best to prepare for the days of necessity.
Udo Ubok Udom was a famous king who lived at Itam, which is an inland town, and does not possess a river. The king and his wife therefore used to wash at the spring just behind their house.King Udo had a daughter, of whom he was very fond, and looked after her most carefully, and she grew up into a beautiful woman.For some time the king had been absent from his house, and had not been to the spring for two years. When he went to his old place to wash, he found that the Idem Ju Ju tree had grown up all round the place, and it was impossible for him to use the spring as he had done formerly. He therefore called fifty of his young men to bring their matchets (knifes) and cut down the tree. They started cutting the tree, but it had no effect, as, directly they made a cut in the tree, it closed up again; so, after working all day, they found they had made no impression on it.When they returned at night, they told the king that they had been unable to destroy the tree. He was very angry when he heard this, and went to the spring the following morning, taking his own matchet with him.When the Ju Ju tree saw that the king had come himself and was starting to try to cut his branches, he caused a small splinter of wood to go into the king’s eye. This gave the king great pain, so he threw down his matchet and went back to his house. The pain, however, got worse, and he could not eat or sleep for three days.He therefore sent for his witch men, and told them to cast lots to find out why he was in such pain. When they had cast lots, they decided that the reason was that the Ju Ju tree was angry with the king because he wanted to wash at the spring, and had tried to destroy the tree.They then told the king that he must take seven baskets of flies, a white goat, a white chicken, and a piece of white cloth, and make a sacrifice of them in order to satisfy the Ju Ju.The king did this, and the witch men tried their lotions on the king’s eye, but it got worse and worse.He then dismissed these witches and got another lot. When they arrived they told the king that, although they could do nothing themselves to relieve his pain, they knew one man who lived in the spirit land who could cure him; so the king told them to send for him at once, and he arrived the next day.Then the spirit man said, “Before I do anything to your eye, what will you give me?” So King Udo said, “I will give you half my town with the people in it, also seven cows and some money.” But the spirit man refused to accept the king’s offer. As the king was in such pain, he said, “Name your own price, and I will pay you.” So the spirit man said the only thing he was willing to accept as payment was the king’s daughter. At this the king cried very much, and told the man to go away, as he would rather die than let him have his daughter.That night the pain was worse than ever, and some of his subjects pleaded with the king to send for the spirit man again and give him his daughter, and told him that when he got well he could no doubt have another daughter but that if he died now he would lose everything.The king then sent for the spirit man again, who came very quickly, and in great grief the king handed his daughter to the spirit.The spirit man then went out into the bush, and collected some leaves, which he soaked in water and beat up. The juice he poured into the king’s eye, and told him that when he washed his face in the morning he would be able to see what was troubling him in the eye.The king tried to persuade him to stay the night, but the spirit man refused, and departed that same night for the spirit land, taking the king’s daughter with him.Before it was light the king rose up and washed his face, and found that the small splinter from the Ju Ju tree, which had been troubling him so much, dropped out of his eye, the pain disappeared, and he was quite well again.When he came to his proper senses he realised that he had sacrificed his daughter for one of his eyes, so he made an order that there should be general mourning throughout his kingdom for three years.For the first two years of the mourning the king’s daughter was put in the fatting house by the spirit man, and was given food; but a skull, who was in the house, told her not to eat, as they were fatting her up, not for marriage, but so that they could eat her. She therefore gave all the food which was brought to her to the skull, and lived on chalk herself.Towards the end of the third year the spirit man brought some of his friends to see the king’s daughter, and told them he would kill her the next day, and they would have a good feast off her.When she woke up in the morning the spirit man brought her food as usual; but the skull, who wanted to preserve her life, and who had heard what the spirit man had said, called her into the room and told her what was going to happen later in the day. She handed the food to the skull, and he said, “When the spirit man goes to the wood with his friends to prepare for the feast, you must run back to your father.”He then gave her some medicine which would make her strong for the journey, and also gave her directions as to the road, telling her that there were two roads but that when she came to the parting of the ways she was to drop some of the medicine on the ground and the two roads would become one.He then told her to leave by the back door, and go through the wood until she came to the end of the town; she would then find the road. If she met people on the road she was to pass them in silence, as if she saluted them they would know that she was a stranger in the spirit land, and might kill her. She was also not to turn round if any one called to her, but was to go straight on till she reached her father’s house.Having thanked the skull for his kind advice, the king’s daughter started off, and when she reached the end of the town and found the road, she ran for three hours, and at last arrived at the branch roads. There she dropped the medicine, as she had been instructed, and the two roads immediately became one; so she went straight on and never saluted any one or turned back, although several people called to her.About this time the spirit man had returned from the wood, and went to the house, only to find the king’s daughter was absent. He asked the skull where she was, and he replied that she had gone out by the back door, but he did not know where she had gone to. Being a spirit, however, he very soon guessed that she had gone home; so he followed as quickly as possible, shouting out all the time.When the girl heard his voice she ran as fast as she could, and at last arrived at her father’s house, and told him to take at once a cow, a pig, a sheep, a goat, a dog, a chicken, and seven eggs, and cut them into seven parts as a sacrifice, and leave them on the road, so that when the spirit man saw these things he would stop and not enter the town. This the king did immediately, and made the sacrifice as his daughter had told him.When the spirit man saw the sacrifice on the road, he sat down and at once began to eat.When he had satisfied his appetite, he packed up the remainder and returned to the spirit land, not troubling any more about the king’s daughter.When the king saw that the danger was over, he beat his drum, and declared that for the future, when people died and went to the spirit land, they should not come to earth again as spirits to cure sick people.
A Peacock once placed a petition before Juno desiring to have the voice of a nightingale in addition to his other attractions; but Juno refused his request. When he persisted, and pointed out that he was her favourite bird, she said: “Be content with your lot; one cannot be first in everything.”
Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with his mother on a common. They were very poor, and the old woman got her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the corner of the hearth in the winter-time. So they called him Lazy Jack. His mother could not get him to do anything for her, and at last told him, one Monday, that if he did not begin to work for his porridge she would turn him out to get his living as he could.This roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for the next day to a neighbouring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never having had any money before, he lost it in passing over a brook. “You stupid boy,” said his mother, “you should have put it in your pocket.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.On Wednesday, Jack went out again and hired himself to a cow-keeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day’s work. Jack took the jar and put it into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all, long before he got home. “Dear me!” said the old woman; “you should have carried it on your head.” “I’ll do so another time,” said Jack.So on Thursday, Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed to give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening Jack took the cheese, and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home the cheese was all spoilt, part of it being lost, and part matted with his hair. “You stupid lout,” said his mother, “you should have carried it very carefully in your hands.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.On Friday, Lazy Jack again went out, and hired himself to a baker, who would give him nothing for his work but a large tom-cat. Jack took the cat, and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a short time pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. When he got home, his mother said to him, “You silly fellow, you should have tied it with a string, and dragged it along after you.” “I’ll do so another time,” said Jack.So on Saturday, Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded him by the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied it to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by the time he had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother was this time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday, and she was obliged to make do with cabbage for her dinner. “You ninney-hammer,” said she to her son; “you should have carried it on your shoulder.” “I’ll do so another time,” replied Jack.On the next Monday, Lazy Jack went once more, and hired himself to a cattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Jack found it hard to hoist the donkey on his shoulders, but at last he did it, and began walking slowly home with his prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich man with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but deaf and dumb. Now she had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would never speak till somebody made her laugh. This young lady happened to be looking out of the window when Jack was passing with the donkey on his shoulders, with the legs sticking up in the air, and the sight was so comical and strange that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Lazy Jack, who was thus made a rich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack’s mother lived with them in great happiness until she died.
About the commencement of the present century the inhabitants of the quiet village of Black Heddon, near Stamfordham, and of its vicinity, who lived, as most other villagers do, with all possible harmony amongst themselves, and relishing no more external disturbance than was consistent with their gentle and sequestered mode of existence, were dreadfully annoyed by the pranks of a preternatural being called Silky. This name it had obtained from its manifesting a marked predilection to make itself visible in the semblance of a female dressed in silk. Many a time, when one of the more timorous of the community had a night journey to perform, have they unawares and invisibly been dogged and watched by this spectral tormentor, who, at the dreariest part of the road—the most suitable for thrilling surprises—would suddenly break forth in dazzling splendour. If the person happened to be on horseback, a sort of exercise for which she evinced a strong partiality, she would unexpectedly seat herself behind, “rattling in her silks.” There, after enjoying a comfortable ride, with instantaneous abruptness she would, like a thing destitute of continuity, dissolve away and become incorporate with the nocturnal shades, leaving the bewildered horseman in blank amazement.At Belsay, some two or three miles from Black Heddon, she had a favourite resort. This was a romantic crag finely studded with trees, under the gloomy umbrage of which, “like one forlorn,” she loved to wander all the live-long night. Here often has the belated peasant, with awe-stricken vision, beheld her dimly through the sombre twilight as if engaged in splitting great stones, or hewing with many a repeated stroke some stately “monarch of the grove.” While he thus stood and gazed, and listened to intimations, impossible to be misapprehended, of the dread reality of that mysterious being, concerning whom so various conjectures were awake, all at once, excited by that wondrous agency, he would hear the howling of a resistless tempest rushing through the woodland—the branches creaking in violent concussion, or rent into pieces by the impetuous fury of the blast—while, to the eye, not a leaf was seen to quiver, or a pensile spray to bend. The bottom of this crag is washed by a picturesque lake or fish-pond, at whose outlet is a waterfall, over which a venerable tree, sweeping its leafy arms, adds impressiveness to the scene. Amid the complicated and contorted limbs of this tree, Silky possessed a rude chair, where she was wont, in her moody moments, to sit—wind-rocked—enjoying the rustling of the storm in the dark woods, or the gush of the cascade. The tree, so consecrated in the sympathies and terrors of the people of the vicinity, has been preserved. Though now (1842) no longer tenanted by its aerial visitant, it yet spreads majestically its time-hallowed canopy over the spot, awakening in the love-versed rustic, when the winter’s wind waves gusty and sonorous through its leafless boughs, the soul-harrowing recollection of the exploits of the ancient fay,—but in the springtime, beautiful with the full-flushed verdure of that exuberant season, recipient of the kindling emotions of reverence and affection. It still bears the name of “Silky’s seat,” in memory of its once wonderful occupant.She was wayward and capricious. Sometimes she installed herself in the office of that old familiar Lar—Brownie, but, with characteristic misdirection, in a manner exactly the reverse of that useful species of hobgoblin. Here it may be remarked that, throughout her disembodied career, she can scarcely be said to have performed one benevolent action for the sake of its moral qualities. She had, from first to last, a perpetual latent hankering for mischief, and gloried in withering surprises and unforeseen movements. As is customary with that “sturdy fairy,” as she is designated by the great English Lexicographer, her works were performed at night, or between the hours of sunset and day-dawn. If the good old dames had thoroughly cleaned their houses, which country people make a practice of doing, especially on Saturdays, so that they may have a comfortable and decent appearance on the Sabbath-day, after they had retired to rest, Silky would silently turn everything topsy-turvy, and the morning presented a scene of indescribable confusion. On the contrary, if the house had been left in a disorderly state, a plan which the folk generally found it best to adopt, everything would have been arranged with the greatest nicety.At length a term had arrived to her erratic course, and both she and the peaceably disposed inhabitants whom she disquieted obtained the repose so long mutually desired. She abruptly disappeared. It had long been surmised, by those who paid attention to those dark matters, that she was the troubled phantom of some person, who had died very miserable, in consequence of having great treasure, which, before being taken by her mortal agony, had not been disclosed, and on that account Silky could not rest in her grave. About the period referred to a domestic female servant being alone in one of the rooms of a house in Black Heddon, was frightfully alarmed by the ceiling above suddenly giving way, and from it there dropped, with a prodigious clash, something quite black, shapeless, and uncouth. The servant did not stop to scrutinise an object so hideous and startling, but fled to her mistress, screaming at the pitch of her voice—“The deevil’s in the house! The deevil’s in the house! He’s come through the ceiling!”With this terrible announcement the whole family were speedily convoked, and great was the consternation at the idea of the foe of mankind being amongst them in visible form. In this appalling extremity, a considerable time elapsed before any one could brace up courage to face the enemy, or be prevailed on to go and inspect the cause of their alarm. At last the mistress, who chanced to be the most stout-hearted, ventured into the room when, instead of the personage, on account of whom such awful apprehensions were entertained, a great dog or calf-skin lay on the floor, sufficiently black and uncomely, but filled with gold.After this Silky was never more heard or seen. Her destiny was accomplished, her spirit laid, and she now sleeps with her ancestors.
Around noon on a summer’s day, some travelers who were exhausted by the heat caught sight of a plane tree. They went and lay down in the shade of the tree in order to rest. Looking up at the tree, they remarked to one another that the plane tree produced no fruit and was therefore useless to mankind.“The travelers and the plane tree.” Illustration by Arthur Rackham. Published in Aesop’s Fables by V.S. Chesterton (1912), Doubleday Page & Co.The plane tree interrupted them and said, ‘What ungrateful people you are! You denounce my uselessness and lack of fruit at the very moment in which you are enjoying my kindness!’Likewise, even when a person treats his neighbours well, his goodness can unfortunately be called into question.
There was once a little boy named Budulinek. He lived with his old Granny in a cottage near a forest.Granny went out to work every day. In the morning when she went away she always said:“There, Budulinek, there’s your dinner on the table and mind, you mustn’t open the door no matter who knocks!”One morning Granny said:“Now, Budulinek, today I’m leaving you some soup for your dinner. Eat it when dinner time comes. And remember what I always say: don’t open the door no matter who knocks.”She went away and pretty soon Lishka, the sly old mother fox, came and knocked on the door.“Budulinek!” she called. “You know me! Open the door! Please!”Budulinek called back:“No, I mustn’t open the door.”But Lishka, the sly old mother fox, kept on knocking.“Listen, Budulinek,” she said: “if you open the door, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll give you a ride on my tail!”Now Budulinek thought to himself:“Oh, that would be fun to ride on the tail of Lishka, the fox!”So Budulinek forgot all about what Granny said to him every day and opened the door.Lishka, the sly old thing, came into the room and what do you think she did? Do you think she gave Budulinek a ride on her tail? Well, she didn’t. She just went over to the table and gobbled up the bowl of soup that Granny had put there for Budulinek’s dinner and then she ran away.When dinner time came Budulinek hadn’t anything to eat.In the evening when Granny came home, she said:“Budulinek, did you open the door and let any one in?”Budulinek was crying because he was so hungry, and he said:“Yes, I let in Lishka, the old mother fox, and she ate up all my dinner, too!”Granny said:“Now, Budulinek, you see what happens when you open the door and let some one in. Another time remember what Granny says and don’t open the door. ”The next morning Granny cooked some porridge for Budulinek’s dinner and said:“Now, Budulinek, here’s some porridge for your dinner. Remember: while I’m gone you must not open the door no matter who knocks.”Granny was no sooner out of sight than Lishka came again and knocked on the door.“Oh, Budulinek!” she called. “Open the door and let me in!”But Budulinek said:“No, I won’t open the door!”“Oh, now, Budulinek, please open the door!” Lishka begged. “You know me! Do you know what I’ll do if you open the door? I’ll give you a ride on my tail! Truly I will!”Budulinek thought to himself:“This time maybe she will give me a ride on her tail.”So he opened the door.Lishka came into the room, gobbled up Budulinek’s porridge, and ran away without giving him any ride at all.When dinner time came Budulinek hadn’t anything to eat.In the evening when Granny came home she said:“Budulinek, did you open the door and let any one in?”Budulinek was crying again because he was so hungry, and he said:“Yes, I let in Lishka, the old mother fox, and she ate up all my porridge, too!”“Budulinek, you’re a bad boy!” Granny said. “If you open the door again, I’ll have to spank you! Do you hear?”The next morning before she went to work, Granny cooked some peas for Budulinek’s dinner.As soon as Granny was gone he began eating the peas, they were so good.Presently Lishka, the fox, came and knocked on the door.“Budulinek!” she called. “Open the door! I want to come in!”But Budulinek wouldn’t open the door. He took his bowl of peas and went to the window and ate them there where Lishka could see him.An organ-grinder began playing in front of Granny’s cottage An organ-grinder began playing in front of Granny’s cottage“Oh, Budulinek!” Lishka begged. “You know me! Please open the door! This time I promise you I’ll give you a ride on my tail! Truly I will!”She just begged and begged until at last Budulinek opened the door. Then Lishka jumped into the room and do you know what she did? She put her nose right into the bowl of peas and gobbled them all up!Then she said to Budulinek:“Now get on my tail and I’ll give you a ride!”So Budulinek climbed on Lishka’s tail and Lishka went running around the room faster and faster until Budulinek was dizzy and just had to hold on with all his might.Then, before Budulinek knew what was happening, Lishka slipped out of the house and ran swiftly off into the forest, home to her hole, with Budulinek still on her tail! She hid Budulinek down in her hole with her own three children and she wouldn’t let him out. He had to stay there with the three little foxes and they all teased him and bit him. And then wasn’t he sorry he had disobeyed his Granny! And, oh, how he cried!When Granny came home she found the door open and no little Budulinek anywhere. She looked high and low, but no, there was no little Budulinek. She asked every one she met had they seen her little Budulinek, but nobody had. So poor Granny just cried and cried, she was so lonely and sad.One day an organ-grinder with a wooden leg began playing in front of Granny’s cottage. The music made her think of Budulinek.“Organ-grinder,” Granny said, “here’s a penny for you. But, please, don’t play any more. Your music makes me cry.”“Why does it make you cry?” the organ-grinder asked.“Because it reminds me of Budulinek,” Granny said, and she told the organ-grinder all about Budulinek and how somebody had stolen him away.The organ-grinder said:“Poor Granny! I tell you what I’ll do: as I go around and play my organ I’ll keep my eyes open for Budulinek. If I find him I’ll bring him back to you.”“Will you?” Granny cried. “If you bring me back my little Budulinek I’ll give you a measure of rye and a measure of millet and a measure of poppy seed and a measure of everything in the house!”So the organ-grinder went off and everywhere he played his organ he looked for Budulinek. But he couldn’t find him.At last one day while he was walking through the forest he thought he heard a little boy crying. He looked around everywhere until he found a fox’s hole.“Oho!” he said to himself. “I believe that wicked old Lishka must have stolen Budulinek! She’s probably keeping him here with her own three children! I’ll soon find out.”So he put down his organ and began to play. And as he played he sang softly:“One old foxAnd two, three, four,And BudulinekHe makes one more!”Old Lishka heard the music playing and she said to her oldest child:“Here, son, give the old man a penny and tell him to go away because my head aches.”So the oldest little fox climbed out of the hole and gave the organ-grinder a penny and said:“My mother says, please will you go away because her head aches.”As the organ-grinder reached over to take the penny, he caught the oldest little fox and stuffed him into a sack. Then he went on playing and singing:“One old foxAnd two and threeAnd BudulinekMakes four for me!”Presently Lishka sent out her second child with a penny and the organ-grinder caught the second little fox in the same way and stuffed it also into the sack. Then he went on grinding his organ and softly singing:“One old foxAnd another for me,And BudulinekHe makes the three.”“I wonder why that old man still plays his organ,” Lishka said and sent out her third child with a penny.So the organ-grinder caught the third little fox and stuffed it also into the sack. Then he kept on playing and singing softly:“One old fox—I’ll soon get you!—And BudulinekHe makes just two.”At last Lishka herself came out. So he caught her, too, and stuffed her in with her children. Then he sang:“Four naughty foxesCaught alive!And BudulinekHe makes the five!” The organ-grinder went to the hole and called down:“Budulinek! Budulinek! Come out!”As there were no foxes left to hold him back, Budulinek was able to crawl out.When he saw the organ-grinder he cried and said:“Oh, please, Mr. Organ-Grinder, I want to go home to my Granny!”“I’ll take you home to your Granny,” the organ-grinder said, “but first I must punish these naughty foxes.”The organ-grinder cut a strong switch and gave the four foxes in the sack a terrible beating until they begged him to stop and promised that they would never again do anything to Budulinek.Then the organ-grinder let them go and he took Budulinek home to Granny.Granny was delighted to see her little Budulinek and she gave the organ-grinder a measure of rye and a measure of millet and a measure of poppy seed and a measure of everything else in the house.And Budulinek never again opened the door!
Oolah the lizard was tired of lying in the sun, doing nothing. So he said, “I will go and play.” He took his boomerangs out, and began to practise throwing them. While he was doing so a Galah came up, and stood near, watching the boomerangs come flying back, for the kind of boomerangs Oolah was throwing were the bubberahs. They are smaller than others, and more curved, and when they are properly thrown they return to the thrower, which other boomerangs do not.Illustration from Wikipedia. Used under Creative Commons.Oolah was proud of having the gay Galah to watch his skill. In his pride he gave the bubberah an extra twist, and threw it with all his might. Whizz, whizzing through the air, back it came, hitting, as it passed her, the Galah on the top of her head, taking both feathers and skin clean off. The Galah set up a hideous, cawing, croaking shriek, and flew about, stopping every few minutes to knock her head on the ground like a mad bird. Oolah was so frightened when he saw what he had done, and noticed that the blood was flowing from the Galah’s head, that he glided away to hide under a bindeah bush. But the Galah saw him. She never stopped the hideous noise she was making for a minute, but, still shrieking, followed Oolah. When she reached the bindeah bush she rushed at Oolah, seized him with her beak, rolled him on the bush until every bindeah had made a hole in his skin. Then she rubbed his skin with her own bleeding head. “Now then,” she said, “you Oolah shall carry bindeahs on you always, and the stain of my blood.”“And you,” said Oolah, as he hissed with pain from the tingling of the prickles, “shall be a bald-headed bird as long as I am a red prickly lizard.”So to this day, underneath the Galah’s crest you can always find the bald patch which the bubberah of Oolah first made. And in the country of the Galahs are lizards coloured reddish brown, and covered with spikes like bindeah prickles.
Weedah was playing a great trick on the black fellows who lived near him. He had built himself a number of grass nyunnoos, more than twenty. He made fires before each, to make it look as if some one lived in the nyunnoos. First he would go into one nyunnoo, or humpy, and cry like a baby, then to another and laugh like a child, then in turn, as he went the round of the humpies he would sing like a maiden, corrobboree like a man, call out in a quavering voice like an old man, and in a shrill voice like an old woman; in fact, imitate any sort of voice he had ever heard, and imitate them so quickly in succession that any one passing would think there was a great crowd of blacks in that camp. His object was to entice as many strange black fellows into his camp as he could, one at a time; then he would kill them and gradually gain the whole country round for his own. His chance was when he managed to get a single black fellow into his camp, which he very often did, then by his cunning he always gained his end and the black fellow’s death. This was how he attained that end. A black fellow, probably separated from his fellows in the excitement of the chase, would be returning home alone passing within earshot of Weedah’s camp he would hear the various voices and wonder what tribe could be there. Curiosity would induce him to come near. He would probably peer into the camp, and, only seeing Weedah standing alone, would advance towards him. Weedah would be standing at a little distance from a big glowing fire, where he would wait until the strange black fellow came quite close to him. Then he would ask him what he wanted. The stranger would say he had heard many voices and had wondered what tribe it could be, so had come near to find out. Weedah would say, “But only I am here. How could you have heard voices? See; look round; I am alone.” Bewildered, the stranger would look round and say in a puzzled tone of voice: “Where are they all gone? As I came I heard babies crying, men calling, and women laughing; many voices I heard but you only I see.”“And only I am here. The wind must have stirred the branches of the balah trees, and you must have thought it was the wailing of children, the laughing of the gouggourgahgah you heard, and thought it the laughter of women and mine must have been the voice as of men that you heard. Alone in the bush, as the shadows fall, a man breeds strange fancies. See by the light of this fire, where are your fancies now? No women laugh, no babies cry, only I, Weedah, talk.” As Weedah was talking he kept edging the stranger towards the fire; when they were quite close to it, he turned swiftly, seized him, and threw him right into the middle of the blaze. This scene was repeated time after time, until at last the ranks of the black fellows living round the camp of Weedah began to get thin.Mullyan, the eagle hawk, determined to fathom the mystery, for as yet the black fellows had no clue as to how or where their friends had disappeared. Mullyan, when Beeargah, his cousin, returned to his camp no more, made up his mind to get on his track and follow it, until at length he solved the mystery. After following the track of Beeargah, as he had chased the kangaroo to where he had slain it, on he followed his homeward trail. Over stony ground he tracked him, and through sand, across plains, and through scrub. At last in a scrub and still on the track of Beeargah, he heard the sounds of many voices, babies crying, women singing, men talking. Peering through the bush, finding the track took him nearer the spot whence came the sounds, he saw the grass humpies. “Who can these be?” he thought. The track led him right into the camp, where alone Weedah was to be seen. Mullyan advanced towards him and asked where were the people whose voices he had heard as he came through the bush.Weedah said: “How can I tell you? I know of no people; I live alone.”“But,” said Mullyan, the eagle hawk, “I heard babies crying, women laughing, and men talking, not one but many.”“And I alone am here. Ask of your cars what trick they played you, or perhaps your eyes fail you now. Can you see any but me? Look for yourself.”“And if, as indeed it seems, you only are here, what did you with Beeargah my cousin, and where are my friends? Many are their trails that I see coming into this camp, but none going out. And if you alone live here you alone can answer me.”“What know I of you or your friends? Nothing. Ask of the winds that blow. Ask of Bahloo the moon, who looks down on the earth by night. Ask of Yhi the sun, that looks down by day. But ask not Weedah, who dwells alone, and knows naught of your friends.” But as Weedah was talking he was carefully edging Mullyan towards the fire.Mullyan, the eagle hawk, too, was cunning, and not easy to trap. He saw a blazing fire in front of him, lie saw the track of his friend behind him, he saw Weedah was edging him towards the fire, and it came to him in a moment the thought that if the fire could speak, well could it tell where were his friends. But the time was not yet come to show that he had fathomed the mystery. So he affected to fall into the trap. But when they reached the fire, before Weedah had time to act his usual part, with a mighty grip Mullyan the eagle hawk seized him, saying,“Even as you served Beeargah the hawk, my cousin, and my friends, so now serve I you.” And right into the middle of the blazing fire he threw him. Then he turned homewards in haste, to tell the black fellows that he had solved the fate of their friends, which had so long been a mystery. When he was some distance from the Weedah’s camp, he heard the sound of a thunder clap. But it was not thunder it was the bursting of the back of Weedah’s head, which had burst with a bang as of a thunder clap. And as it burst, out from his remains had risen a bird, Weedah, the mocking bird; which bird to this day has a hole at the back of his head, just in the same place as Weedah the black fellow’s head had burst, and whence the bird came forth.To this day the Weedah makes grass playgrounds, through which he runs, imitating, as he plays, in quick succession, any voices he has ever heard, from the crying of a child to the laughing of a woman; from the mewing of a cat to the barking of a dog, and hence his name Weedah, the mocking bird.
An Olive-tree taunted a Fig-tree with the loss of her leaves at a certain season of the year. “You,” she said, “lose your leaves every autumn, and are bare till the spring: whereas I, as you see, remain green and flourishing all the year round.” Soon afterwards there came a heavy fall of snow, which settled on the leaves of the Olive so that she bent and broke under the weight; but the flakes fell harmlessly through the bare branches of the Fig, which survived to bear many another crop.
One hot and thirsty day in the height of summer a Lion and a Boar came down to a little spring at the same moment to drink. In a trice they were quarrelling as to who should drink first. The quarrel soon became a fight and they attacked one another with the utmost fury. Presently, stopping for a moment to take breath, they saw some vultures seated on a rock above evidently waiting for one of them to be killed, when they would fly down and feed upon the carcase. The sight sobered them at once, and they made up their quarrel, saying, “We had much better be friends than fight and be eaten by vultures.”
Tāne gazed on red clay that lay exposed where earth had fallen from a cliff. “Red, the sacred colour!” he said; “and earth, from which all things grow and flourish. Surely from this I can make something greater than anything I have yet attempted.”He gathered the red clay and worked it with his hands, kneading it and fashioning it into a shape like his own. When the shape was made he breathed into it his own breath. Slowly life went into the figure, and it began to breathe as if in sleep.Tāne stood, chanting a life-giving song. The limbs received their powers, the eyes opened and saw the world. The shape arose and walked. It was Tiki, the first man, whose heart and all inner parts were red as the clay from which he was made.Tāne, invisible, watched the man walk with dazed and wondering eyes across the barren plain where he had lain towards the forest trees where birds were singing. Invisible goddesses floated through the air to look at this new creature. “He will need a mate,” they said.From the Sunshine that quivered on the trees and the Echo that wandered through them, the goddesses wove a fine mist, which limb by limb they shaped into a woman. They sent her out to meet the man, and he was lonely no more. The two lived together in the Earth-mother’s garden, and from them have all the men and women come that live there to this day.Tāne went to live in the shining Sunrise Land, beside the Lake of Glowing Light. So Tu was left master of the garden, for he alone of the six giant-brothers was left. Ever since, the men and women who live there have received good things from four of the brothers—from Tāne’s trees wood for boats and houses, fibrous leaves for ropes and clothing; from Rongo and Haumia roots and berries; from Tangaroa fish. But from Tu they received an evil gift, for he taught them the art of fighting. Yet, strange to say, they worshipped him more than any of the brothers. They made him their god of war; and since then peace has left the earth.
There was once a very learned man in the north-country who knew all the languages under the sun, and who was acquainted with all the mysteries of creation. He had one big book bound in black calf and clasped with iron, and with iron corners, and chained to a table which was made fast to the floor; and when he read out of this book, he unlocked it with an iron key, and none but he read from it, for it contained all the secrets of the spiritual world. It told how many angels there were in heaven, and how they marched in their ranks, and sang in their quires, and what were their several functions, and what was the name of each great angel of might. And it told of the demons, how many of them there were, and what were their several powers, and their labours, and their names, and how they might be summoned, and how tasks might be imposed on them, and how they might be chained to be as slaves to man.Now the master had a pupil who was but a foolish lad, and he acted as servant to the great master, but never was he suffered to look into the black book, hardly to enter the private room.One day the master was out, and then the lad, as curious as could be, hurried to the chamber where his master kept his wondrous apparatus for changing copper into gold, and lead into silver, and where was his mirror in which he could see all that was passing in the world, and where was the shell which when held to the ear whispered all the words that were being spoken by anyone the master desired to know about. The lad tried in vain with the crucibles to turn copper and lead into gold and silver—he looked long and vainly into the mirror; smoke and clouds passed over it, but he saw nothing plain, and the shell to his ear produced only indistinct murmurings, like the breaking of distant seas on an unknown shore. “I can do nothing,” he said; “as I don’t know the right words to utter, and they are locked up in yon book.”He looked round, and, see! the book was unfastened; the master had forgotten to lock it before he went out. The boy rushed to it, and unclosed the volume. It was written with red and black ink, and much of it he could not understand; but he put his finger on a line and spelled it through.At once the room was darkened, and the house trembled; a clap of thunder rolled through the passage and the old room, and there stood before him a horrible, horrible form, breathing fire, and with eyes like burning lamps. It was the demon Beelzebub, whom he had called up to serve him.“Set me a task!” said he, with a voice like the roaring of an iron furnace.The boy only trembled, and his hair stood up.“Set me a task, or I shall strangle thee!”But the lad could not speak. Then the evil spirit stepped towards him, and putting forth his hands touched his throat. The fingers burned his flesh. “Set me a task!”“Water yon flower,” cried the boy in despair, pointing to a geranium which stood in a pot on the floor. Instantly the spirit left the room, but in another instant he returned with a barrel on his back, and poured its contents over the flower; and again and again he went and came, and poured more and more water, till the floor of the room was ankle-deep.“Enough, enough!” gasped the lad; but the demon heeded him not; the lad didn’t know the words by which to send him away, and still he fetched water.It rose to the boy’s knees and still more water was poured. It mounted to his waist, and Beelzebub still kept on bringing barrels full. It rose to his armpits, and he scrambled to the table-top. And now the water in the room stood up to the window and washed against the glass, and swirled around his feet on the table. It still rose; it reached his breast. In vain he cried; the evil spirit would not be dismissed, and to this day he would have been pouring water, and would have drowned all Yorkshire. But the master remembered on his journey that he had not locked his book, and therefore returned, and at the moment when the water was bubbling about the pupil’s chin, rushed into the room and spoke the words which cast Beelzebub back into his fiery home.
Little Tuk! An odd name, to be sure! However, it was not the little boy’s real name. His real name was Carl; but when he was so young that he could not speak plainly, he used to call himself Tuk. It would be hard to say why, for it is not at all like “Carl”; but the name does as well as any, if one only knows it.Little Tuk was left at home to take care of his sister Gustava, who was much younger than himself; and he had also to learn his lesson. Here were two things to be done at the same time, and they did not at all suit each other. The poor boy sat with his sister in his lap, singing to her all the songs he knew, yet giving, now and then, a glance into his geography, which lay open beside him. By to-morrow morning he must know the names of all the towns in Seeland by heart, and be able to tell about them all that could be told.His mother came at last, and took little Gustava in her arms. Tuk ran quickly to the window and read and read till he had almost read his eyes out—for it was growing dark, and his mother could not afford to buy candles.“There goes the old washerwoman down the lane,” said the mother, as she looked out of the window. “She can hardly drag herself along, poor thing; and now she has to carry that heavy pail from the pump. Be a good boy, little Tuk, and run across to help the poor creature, will you not?” And little Tuk ran quickly and helped to bear the weight of the pail. But when he came back into the room, it was quite dark. Nothing was said about a candle, and it was of no use to wish for one; he must go to his little trundle-bed, which was made of an old settle.There he lay, still thinking of the geography lesson, of Seeland, and of all that the master had said. He could not read the book again, as he should by rights have done, for want of a light. So he put the geography-book under his pillow. Somebody had once told him that would help him wonderfully to remember his lesson, but he had never yet found that one could depend upon it.There he lay and thought and thought, till all at once he felt as though some one were gently sealing his mouth and eyes with a kiss. He slept and yet did not sleep, for he seemed to see the old washerwoman’s mild, kind eyes fixed upon him, and to hear her say: “It would be a shame, indeed, for you not to know your lesson to-morrow, little Tuk. You helped me; now I will help you, and our Lord will help us both.”All at once the leaves of the book began to rustle under little Tuk’s head, and he heard something crawling about under his pillow.“Cluck, cluck, cluck!” cried a hen, as she crept towards him. (She came from the town of Kjöge.) “I’m a Kjöge hen,” she said. And then she told him how many inhabitants the little town contained, and about the battle that had once been fought there, and how it was now hardly worth mentioning, there were so many greater things.Scratch, scratch! kribbley crabbley! and now a great wooden bird jumped down upon the bed. It was the popinjay from the shooting ground at Præstö. He had reckoned the number of inhabitants in Præstö, and found that there were as many as he had nails in his body. He was a proud bird. “Thorwaldsen lived in one corner of Præstö, close by me. Am I not a pretty bird, a merry popinjay?”And now little Tuk no longer lay in bed. All in a moment he was on horseback, and on he went, gallop, gallop! A splendid knight, with a bright helmet and waving plume,—a knight of the olden time,—held him on his own horse; and on they rode together, through the wood of the ancient city of Vordingborg, and it was once again a great and busy town. The high towers of the king’s castle rose against the sky, and bright lights were seen gleaming through the windows. Within were music and merrymaking. King Waldemar was leading out the noble ladies of his court to dance with him.Suddenly the morning dawned, the lamps grew pale, the sun rose, the outlines of the buildings faded away, and at last one high tower alone remained to mark the spot where the royal castle had stood. The vast city had shrunk into a poor, mean-looking little town. The schoolboys, coming out of school with their geography-books under their arms, said, “Two thousand inhabitants”; but that was a mere boast, for the town had not nearly so many.And little Tuk lay in his bed. He knew not whether he had been dreaming or not, but again there was some one close by his side.“Little Tuk! little Tuk!” cried a voice; it was the voice of a young sailor boy. “I am come to bring you greeting from Korsör. Korsör is a new town, a living town, with steamers and mail coaches. Once people used to call it a low, ugly place, but they do so no longer.“‘I dwell by the seaside,’ says Korsör; ‘I have broad highroads and pleasure gardens; and I have given birth to a poet, a witty one, too, which is more than all poets are. I once thought of sending a ship all round the world; but I did not do it, though I might as well have done so. I dwell so pleasantly, close by the port; and I am fragrant with perfume, for the loveliest roses bloom round about me, close to my gates.'”And little Tuk could smell the roses and see them and their fresh green leaves. But in a moment they had vanished; the green leaves spread and thickened—a perfect grove had grown up above the bright waters of the bay, and above the grove rose the two high-pointed towers of a glorious old church. From the side of the grass-grown hill gushed a fountain in rainbow-hued streams, with a merry, musical voice, and close beside it sat a king, wearing a gold crown upon his long dark hair. This was King Hroar of the springs; and hard by was the town of Roskilde (Hroar’s Fountain). And up the hill, on a broad highway, went all the kings and queens of Denmark, wearing golden crowns; hand in hand they passed on into the church, and the deep music of the organ mingled with the clear rippling of the fountain. For nearly all the kings and queens of Denmark lie buried in this beautiful church. And little Tuk saw and heard it all.“Don’t forget the towns,” said King Hroar.Then all vanished; though where it went he knew not. It seemed like turning the leaves of a book.And now there stood before him an old peasant woman from Sorö, the quiet little town where grass grows in the very market place. Her green linen apron was thrown over her head and back, and the apron was very wet, as if it had been raining heavily.“And so it has,” she said. And she told a great many pretty things from Holberg’s comedies, and recited ballads about Waldemar and Absalon; for Holberg had founded an academy in her native town.All at once she cowered down and rocked her head as if she were a frog about to spring. “Koax!” cried she; “it is wet, it is always wet, and it is as still as the grave in Sorö.” She had changed into a frog. “Koax!” and again she was an old woman. “One must dress according to the weather,” she said.“It is wet! it is wet! My native town is like a bottle; one goes in at the cork, and by the cork one must come out. In old times we had the finest of fish; now we have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys at the bottom of the bottle. There they learn wisdom—Greek, Greek, and Hebrew! Koax!”It sounded exactly as if frogs were croaking, or as if some one were walking over the great swamp with heavy boots. So tiresome was her tone, all on the same note, that little Tuk fell fast asleep; and a very good thing it was for him.But even in sleep there came a dream, or whatever else it may be called. His little sister Gustava, with her blue eyes and flaxen ringlets, was grown into a tall, beautiful girl, who, though she had no wings, could fly; and away they now flew over Seeland—over its green woods and blue waters.“Hark! Do you hear the cock crow, little Tuk? ‘Cock-a-doodle-do!’ The fowls are flying hither from Kjöge, and you shall have a farmyard, a great, great poultry yard of your own! You shall never suffer hunger or want. The golden goose, the bird of good omen, shall be yours; you shall become a rich and happy man. Your house shall rise up like King Waldemar’s towers and be richly decked with statues like those of Thorwaldsen at Præstö.“Understand me well; your good name shall be borne round the world, like the ship that was to sail from Korsör, and at Roskilde you shall speak and give counsel wisely and well, little Tuk, like King Hroar; and when at last you shall lie in your peaceful grave you shall sleep as quietly—”“As if I lay sleeping in Sorö,” said Tuk, and he woke. It was a bright morning, and he could not remember his dream, but it was not necessary that he should. One has no need to know what one will live to see.And now he sprang quickly out of bed and sought his book, that had lain under his pillow. He read his lesson and found that he knew the towns perfectly well.And the old washerwoman put her head in at the door and said, with a friendly nod: “Thank you, my good child, for yesterday’s help. May the Lord fulfill your brightest and most beautiful dreams! I know he will.”Little Tuk had forgotten what he had dreamed, but it did not matter. There was One above who knew it all.
There was once on a time a maiden who was pretty, but idle and negligent. When she had to spin she was so out of temper that if there was a little knot in the flax, she at once pulled out a whole heap of it, and strewed it about on the ground beside her. Now she had a servant who was industrious, and gathered together the bits of flax which were thrown away, cleaned them, span them fine, and had a beautiful gown made out of them for herself. A young man had wooed the lazy girl, and the wedding was to take place. On the eve of the wedding, the industrious one was dancing merrily about in her pretty dress, and the bride said,“Ah, how that girl does jump about, dressed in my odds and ends.”The bridegroom heard that, and asked the bride what she meant by it? Then she told him that the girl was wearing a dress make of the flax which she had thrown away. When the bridegroom heard that, and saw how idle she was, and how industrious the poor girl was, he gave her up and went to the other, and chose her as his wife.{Note: Listen to this tale plus other great Brothers Grimm audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}
Once upon a time there lived a great king who had a wife and one son whom he loved very much. The boy was still young when, one day, the king said to his wife: ‘I feel that the hour of my death draws near, and I want you to promise that you will never take another husband but will give up your life to the care of our son.’The queen burst into tears at these words, and sobbed out that she would never, never marry again, and that her son’s welfare should be her first thought as long as she lived. Her promise comforted the troubled heart of the king, and a few days after he died, at peace with himself and with the world.But no sooner was the breath out of his body, than the queen said to herself, ‘To promise is one thing, and to keep is quite another.’ And hardly was the last spadeful of earth flung over the coffin than she married a noble from a neighbouring country, and got him made king instead of the young prince. Her new husband was a cruel, wicked man, who treated his stepson very badly, and gave him scarcely anything to eat, and only rags to wear; and he would certainly have killed the boy but for fear of the people.Now by the palace grounds there ran a brook, but instead of being a water-brook it was a milk-brook, and both rich and poor flocked to it daily and drew as much milk as they chose. The first thing the new king did when he was seated on the throne, was to forbid anyone to go near the brook, on pain of being seized by the watchmen. And this was purely spite, for there was plenty of milk for everybody.For some days no one dared venture near the banks of the stream, but at length some of the watchmen noticed that early in the mornings, just at dawn, a man with a gold beard came down to the brook with a pail, which he filled up to the brim with milk, and then vanished like smoke before they could get near enough to see who he was. So they went and told the king what they had seen.At first the king would not believe their story, but as they persisted it was quite true, he said that he would go and watch the stream that night himself. With the earliest streaks of dawn the gold-bearded man appeared, and filled his pail as before. Then in an instant he had vanished, as if the earth had swallowed him up.The king stood staring with eyes and mouth open at the place where the man had disappeared. He had never seen him before, that was certain; but what mattered much more was how to catch him, and what should be done with him when he was caught? He would have a cage built as a prison for him, and everyone would talk of it, for in other countries thieves were put in prison, and it was long indeed since any king had used a cage. It was all very well to plan, and even to station a watchman behind every bush, but it was of no use, for the man was never caught. They would creep up to him softly on the grass, as he was stooping to fill his pail, and just as they stretched out their hands to seize him, he vanished before their eyes. Time after time this happened, till the king grew mad with rage, and offered a large reward to anyone who could tell him how to capture his enemy.The first person that came with a scheme was an old soldier who promised the king that if he would only put some bread and bacon and a flask of wine on the bank of the stream, the gold-bearded man would be sure to eat and drink, and they could shake some powder into the wine, which would send him to sleep at once. After that there was nothing to do but to shut him in the cage.This idea pleased the king, and he ordered bread and bacon and a flask of drugged wine to be placed on the bank of the stream, and the watchers to be redoubled. Then, full of hope, he awaited the result.Everything turned out just as the soldier had said. Early next morning the gold-bearded man came down to the brook, ate, drank, and fell sound asleep, so that the watchers easily bound him, and carried him off to the palace. In a moment the king had him fast in the golden cage, and showed him, with ferocious joy, to the strangers who were visiting his court. The poor captive, when he awoke from his drunken sleep, tried to talk to them, but no one would listen to him, so he shut himself up altogether, and the people who came to stare took him for a dumb man of the woods. He wept and moaned to himself all day, and would hardly touch food, though, in dread that he should die and escape his tormentors, the king ordered his head cook to send him dishes from the royal table.The gold-bearded man had been in captivity about a month, when the king was forced to make war upon a neighbouring country, and left the palace, to take command of his army. But before he went he called his stepson to him and said:‘Listen, boy, to what I tell you. While I am away I trust the care of my prisoner to you. See that he has plenty to eat and drink, but he careful that he does not escape, or even walk about the room. If I return and find him gone, you will pay for it by a terrible death.’The young prince was thankful that his stepfather was going to the war, and secretly hoped he might never come back. Directly he had ridden off the boy went to the room where the cage was kept, and never left it night and day. He even played his games beside it.One day he was shooting at a mark with a silver bow; one of his arrows fell into the golden cage.‘Please give me my arrow,’ said the prince, running up to him; but the gold-bearded man answered:‘No, I shall not give it to you unless you let me out of my cage.’‘I may not let you out,’ replied the boy, ‘for if I do my stepfather says that I shall have to die a horrible death when he returns from the war. My arrow can be of no use to you, so give it to me.’The man handed the arrow through the bars, but when he had done so he begged harder than ever that the prince would open the door and set him free. Indeed, he prayed so earnestly that the prince’s heart was touched, for he was a tender-hearted boy who pitied the sorrows of other people. So he shot back the bolt, and the gold-bearded man stepped out into the world.‘I will repay you a thousand fold for that good deed.’ said the man, and then he vanished. The prince began to think what he should say to the king when he came back; then he wondered whether it would be wise to wait for his stepfather’s return and run the risk of the dreadful death which had been promised him. ‘No,’ he said to himself, ‘I am afraid to stay. Perhaps the world will be kinder to me than he has been.’Unseen he stole out when twilight fell, and for many days he wandered over mountains and through forests and valleys without knowing where he was going or what he should do. He had only the berries for food, when, one morning, he saw a wood-pigeon sitting on a bough. In an instant he had fitted an arrow to his bow, and was taking aim at the bird, thinking what a good meal he would make off him, when his weapon fell to the ground at the sound of the pigeon’s voice:‘Do not shoot, I implore you, noble prince! I have two little sons at home, and they will die of hunger if I am not there to bring them food.’And the young prince had pity, and unstrung his bow.‘Oh, prince, I will repay your deed of mercy, said the grateful wood-pigeon.‘Poor thing! how can you repay me?’ asked the prince.‘You have forgotten,’ answered the wood-pigeon, ‘the proverb that runs, “mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can always come across another.”‘ The boy laughed at this speech and went his way.By-and-by he reached the edge of a lake, and flying towards some rushes which grew near the shore he beheld a wild duck. Now, in the days that the king, his father, was alive, and he had everything to eat he could possibly wish for, the prince always had wild duck for his birthday dinner, so he quickly fitted an arrow to his bow and took a careful aim.‘Do not shoot, I pray you, noble prince!’ cried the wild duck; ‘I have two little sons at home; they will die of hunger if I am not there to bring them food.’And the prince had pity, and let fall his arrow and unstrung his bow.‘Oh, prince! I will repay your deed of mercy,’ exclaimed the grateful wild duck.‘You poor thing! how can you repay me?’ asked the prince.‘You have forgotten,’ answered the wild duck, ‘the proverb that runs, “mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can always come across another.”‘ The boy laughed at this speech and went his way.He had not wandered far from the shores of the lake, when he noticed a stork standing on one leg, and again he raised his bow and prepared to take aim.‘Do not shoot, I pray you, noble prince,’ cried the stork; ‘I have two little sons at home; they will die of hunger if I am not there to bring them food.’Again the prince was filled with pity, and this time also he did not shoot.‘Oh, prince, I will repay your deed of mercy,’ cried the stork.‘You poor stork! how can you repay me?’ asked the prince.‘You have forgotten,’ answered the stork, ‘the proverb that runs, “mountain and mountain can never meet, but one living creature can always come across another.”‘The boy laughed at hearing these words again, and walked slowly on. He had not gone far, when he fell in with two discharged soldiers.‘Where are you going, little brother?’ asked one.‘I am seeking work,’ answered the prince.‘So are we,’ replied the soldier. ‘We can all go together.’The boy was glad of company and they went on, and on, and on, through seven kingdoms, without finding anything they were able to do. At length they reached a palace, and there was the king standing on the steps.‘You seem to be looking for something,’ said he.‘It is work we want,’ they all answered.So the king told the soldiers that they might become his coachmen; but he made the boy his companion, and gave him rooms near his own. The soldiers were dreadfully angry when they heard this, for of course they did not know that the boy was really a prince; and they soon began to lay their heads together to plot his ruin.Then they went to the king.‘Your Majesty,’ they said, ‘we think it our duty to tell you that your new companion has boasted to us that if he were only your steward he would not lose a single grain of corn out of the storehouses. Now, if your Majesty would give orders that a sack of wheat should be mixed with one of barley, and would send for the youth, and command him to separate the grains one from another, in two hours’ time, you would soon see what his talk was worth.’The king, who was weak, listened to what these wicked men had told him, and desired the prince to have the contents of the sack piled into two heaps by the time that he returned from his council. ‘If you succeed,’ he added, ‘you shall be my steward, but if you fail, I will put you to death on the spot.’The unfortunate prince declared that he had never made any such boast as was reported; but it was all in vain. The king did not believe him, and turning him into an empty room, bade his servants carry in the huge sack filled with wheat and barley, and scatter them in a heap on the floor.The prince hardly knew where to begin, and indeed if he had had a thousand people to help him, and a week to do it in, he could never have finished his task. So he flung himself on the ground in despair, and covered his face with his hands.While he lay thus, a wood-pigeon flew in through the window.‘Why are you weeping, noble prince?’ asked the wood-pigeon.‘How can I help weeping at the task set me by the king. For he says, if I fail to do it, I shall die a horrible death.’‘Oh, there is really nothing to cry about,’ answered the wood-pigeon soothingly. ‘I am the king of the wood-pigeons, whose life you spared when you were hungry. And now I will repay my debt, as I promised.’ So saying he flew out of the window, leaving the prince with some hope in his heart.In a few minutes he returned, followed by a cloud of wood-pigeons, so dense that it seemed to fill the room. Their king showed them what they had to do, and they set to work so hard that the grain was sorted into two heaps long before the council was over. When the king came back he could not believe his eyes; but search as he might through the two heaps, he could not find any barley among the wheat, or any wheat amongst the barley. So he praised the prince for his industry and cleverness, and made him his steward at once.This made the two soldiers more envious still, and they began to hatch another plot.‘Your Majesty,’ they said to the king, one day, as he was standing on the steps of the palace, ‘that fellow has been boasting again, that if he had the care of your treasures not so much as a gold pin should ever be lost. Put this vain fellow to the proof, we pray you, and throw the ring from the princess’s finger into the brook, and bid him find it. We shall soon see what his talk is worth.’And the foolish king listened to them, and ordered the prince to be brought before him.‘My son,’ he said, ‘I have heard that you have declared that if I made you keeper of my treasures you would never lose so much as a gold pin. Now, in order to prove the truth of your words, I am going to throw the ring from the princess’s finger into the brook, and if you do not find it before I come back from council, you will have to die a horrible death.’It was no use denying that he had said anything of the kind. The king did not believe him; in fact he paid no attention at all, and hurried off, leaving the poor boy speechless with despair in the corner. However, he soon remembered that though it was very unlikely that he should find the ring in the brook, it was impossible that he should find it by staying in the palace.For some time the prince wandered up and down peering into the bottom of the stream, but though the water was very clear, nothing could he see of the ring. At length he gave it up in despair, and throwing himself down at the foot of the tree, he wept bitterly.‘What is the matter, dear prince?’ said a voice just above him, and raising his head, he saw the wild duck.‘The king of this country declares I must die a horrible death if I cannot find the princess’s ring which he has thrown into the brook,’ answered the prince.‘Oh, you must not vex yourself about that, for I can help you,’ replied the bird. ‘I am the king of the wild ducks, whose life you spared, and now it is my turn to save yours.’ Then he flew away, and in a few minutes a great flock of wild ducks were swimming all up and down the stream looking with all their might, and long before the king came back from his council there it was, safe on the grass beside the prince.At this sight the king was yet more astonished at the cleverness of his steward, and at once promoted him to be the keeper of his jewels.Now you would have thought that by this time the king would have been satisfied with the prince, and would have left him alone; but people’s natures are very hard to change, and when the two envious soldiers came to him with a new falsehood, he was as ready to listen to them as before.‘Gracious Majesty,’ said they, ‘the youth whom you have made keeper of your jewels has declared to us that a child shall be born in the palace this night, which will be able to speak every language in the world and to play every instrument of music. Is he then become a prophet, or a magician, that he should know things which have not yet come to pass?’At these words the king became more angry than ever. He had tried to learn magic himself, but somehow or other his spells would never work, and he was furious to hear that the prince claimed a power that he did not possess. Stammering with rage, he ordered the youth to be brought before him, and vowed that unless this miracle was accomplished he would have the prince dragged at a horse’s tail until he was dead.In spite of what the soldiers had said, the boy knew no more magic than the king did, and his task seemed more hopeless than before. He lay weeping in the chamber which he was forbidden to leave, when suddenly he heard a sharp tapping at the window, and, looking up, he beheld a stork.‘What makes you so sad, prince?’ asked he.‘Someone has told the king that I have prophesied that a child shall be born this night in the palace, who can speak all the languages in the world and play every musical instrument. I am no magician to bring these things to pass, but he says that if it does not happen he will have me dragged through the city at a horse’s tail till I die.’‘Do not trouble yourself,’ answered the stork. ‘I will manage to find such a child, for I am the king of the storks whose life you spared, and now I can repay you for it.’The stork flew away and soon returned carrying in his beak a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid it down near a lute. In an instant the baby stretched out its little hands and began to play a tune so beautiful that even the prince forgot his sorrows as he listened. Then he was given a flute and a zither, but he was just as well able to draw music from them; and the prince, whose courage was gradually rising, spoke to him in all the languages he knew. The baby answered him in all, and no one could have told which was his native tongue!The next morning the king went straight to the prince’s room, and saw with his own eyes the wonders that baby could do. ‘If your magic can produce such a baby,’ he said, ‘you must be greater than any wizard that ever lived, and shall have my daughter in marriage.’ And, being a king, and therefore accustomed to have everything the moment he wanted it, he commanded the ceremony to be performed without delay, and a splendid feast to be made for the bride and bridegroom. When it was over, he said to the prince:‘Now that you are really my son, tell me by what arts you were able to fulfil the tasks I set you?’‘My noble father-in-law,’ answered the prince, ‘I am ignorant of all spells and arts. But somehow I have always managed to escape the death which has threatened me.’ And he told the king how he had been forced to run away from his stepfather, and how he had spared the three birds, and had joined the two soldiers, who had from envy done their utmost to ruin him.The king was rejoiced in his heart that his daughter had married a prince, and not a common man, and he chased the two soldiers away with whips, and told them that if they ever dared to show their faces across the borders of his kingdom, they should die the same death he had prepared for the prince.
One day in the far past a Mungghee wurraywurraymul, or sea-gull, was flying over the Western plains carrying a mussel. Wahn the crow saw her, and wondering what she carried, pursued her. In her fear at being overtaken she dropped the mussel.Seeing it drop, Wahn stopped his pursuit and swooped down to see what this strange thing was. Standing beside it, with his head on one side, he peered at it. Then he gave it a peck. He rather liked the taste of it; he pecked again and again, until the fish in one side of the shell was finished. He never noticed that there was a fish in the other side too, so he took up the empty shell, as he thought, and threw it into the creek. There this Mungghee throve and multiplied, all that followed her being as she was, one fish enclosed between two shells, not as the one Mungghee wurraywurraymul had brought, which had two fish, one on each side shell.Not knowing that he had thrown a Mungghee mother into the creek, Wahn determined to pursue Mungghee  wurraywurraymul and get more, or find out whence she had brought the one he had thought so good, that he might get some. Away he flew in the direction she had gone. He overtook her some miles up the creek beside a big waterhole. Before she saw him coming he had swooped down upon her, crying, “Give me some more of that fish in two shells you brought.”“I have no more. Let me go.”“Tell me, then, where you got it, that I may get more for myself.”“They do not belong to your country. They live in one far away which I passed in my flight from the big salt water here. Let me go.” And she struggled to free herself, crying piteously the strange, sad cry of her tribe.But Wahn, the crow, held her tightly. “If you promise to go straight back to that country and bring some more I will release you. That you must promise, and also that when I have finished those you shall bring more, that I may never be without them again. If you do not promise I will kill you now.”“Let me go, and I will do as you ask. I promise my tribe shall help me to bring Mungghee to your creeks.”“Go, then,” said Wahn, “swiftly back, and bring to me here on the banks of the creek the fish that hides itself between two shells.” And he let her go, turning her head towards the south.Away she flew. Days passed, and months, and yet Mungghee wurraywurraymul did not return, and Wahn was angry with himself for not having killed her rather than let her so deceive him.He went one day to the creek for a drink, and stooping, he saw before him a shell such as he had thrown into the water. Thinking it was the same he took no notice, but going on along the creek he saw another and yet another. He cracked one by holding it in his beak and knocking it against the root of a tree on the bank. Then he ate the fish, and looking round for more he found the mud along the margin of the creek was thick with them. Then not knowing that the mussel shell he had thrown away held a fish, he thought Mungghee wurraywurraymul must have returned unseen by him, disappearing secretly lest he should hurt her.Later he found that was not so, for one day he saw a flock of her tribe flying over where he was. They alighted a little higher up, where he saw some of them stick the Mungghee they were carrying in the mud just under the water. Having done so, on they flew a little farther to stick others, and so on up the creek. Having finished their work they turned and flew back towards the sea-coast. Wahn noticed that the Mungghee came out of the water, and opening their shells, stretched out. between them, and uttered a low, piteous, muffled, mew-like sound. Making their way along the mud, they cried as they went for the Mungghee wurraywurraymul to take them back to their own country. But their cries were unheeded, for far away were the sea-gulls.At last they reached the Mungghee which had been born in the creek. These being stronger and more numerous than the newcomers, soon altered their habits of life, teaching them to live as they did, only one fish in the two joined-together shells; and so have all mussels been ever since. For though from time to time, on the rare visits of the sea-gulls to the Back Creeks, fresh Mungghee are brought, yet these too soon do as the others.The Daens cook mussels in the hot ashes of their fires, and eat them with relish, saying, “If it had not been for Wahn we should not have had this good food, for he it was who caused it to be given to us by Mungghee wurraywurraymul, the mussel-bringer.”
Once upon a time there lived a mother and a daughter who worshipped the Sun. Though they were very poor they never forgot to honour the Sun, giving everything they earned to it except two meal cakes, one of which the mother ate, while the other was the daughter’s share, every day one cake apiece; that was all.Now it so happened that one day, when the mother was out at work, the daughter grew hungry, and ate her cake before dinner-time. Just as she had finished it a priest came by, and begged for some bread, but there was none in the house save the mother’s cake. So the daughter broke off half of it and gave it to the priest in the name of the Sun.By and by the mother returned, very hungry, to dinner, and, lo and behold! there was only half a cake in the house.‘Where is the remainder of the bread?’ she asked.‘I ate my share, because I was hungry,’ said the daughter, ‘and just as I finished, a priest came a-begging, so I was obliged to give him half your cake.’‘A pretty story!’ quoth the mother, in a rage. ‘It is easy to be pious with other people’s property! How am I to know you had eaten your cake first? I believe you gave mine in order to save your own!’In vain the daughter protested that she really had finished her cake before the priest came a-begging,—in vain she promised to give the mother half her share on the morrow,—in vain she pleaded for forgiveness for the sake of the Sun, in whose honour she had given alms. Words were of no avail; the mother sternly bade her go about her business, saying, ‘I will have no gluttons, who grudge their own meal to the great Sun, in my house!’So the daughter wandered away homeless into the wilds, sobbing bitterly. When she had travelled a long long way, she became so tired that she could walk no longer; therefore she climbed into a big pîpal tree, in order to be secure from wild beasts, and rested amongst the branches.After a time a handsome young prince, who had been chasing deer in the forest, came to the big pîpal tree, and, allured by its tempting shade, lay down to sleep away his fatigues. Now, as he lay there, with his face turned to the sky, he looked so beautiful that the daughter could not choose but keep her eyes upon him, and so the tears which flowed from them like a summer shower dropped soft and warm upon the young man’s face, waking him with a start. Thinking it was raining, he rose to look at the sky, and see whence this sudden storm had come; but far and near not a cloud was to be seen. Still, when he returned to his place, the drops fell faster than before, and one of them upon his lip tasted salt as tears. So he swung himself into the tree, to see whence the salt rain came, and, lo and behold! a beauteous maiden sat in the tree, weeping.‘Whence come you, fair stranger?’ said he; and she, with tears, told him she was homeless, houseless, motherless. Then he fell in love with her sweet face and soft words; so he asked her to be his bride, and she went with him to the palace, her heart full of gratitude to the Sun, who had sent her such good luck.Everything she could desire was hers; only when the other women talked of their homes and their mothers she held her tongue, for she was ashamed of hers.Every one thought she must be some great princess, she was so lovely and magnificent, but in her heart of hearts she knew she was nothing of the kind; so every day she prayed to the Sun that her mother might not find her out.But one day, when she was sitting alone in her beautiful palace, her mother appeared, ragged and poor as ever. She had heard of her daughter’s good fortune, and had come to share it.‘And you shall share it,’ pleaded her daughter; ‘I will give you back far more than I ever took from you, if only you will go away and not disgrace me before my prince.’‘Ungrateful creature!’ stormed the mother, ‘do you forget how it was through my act that your good fortune came to you? If I had not sent you into the world, where would you have found so fine a husband?’‘I might have starved!’ wept the daughter; ‘and now you come to destroy me again. O great Sun, help me now!’Just then the prince came to the door, and the poor daughter was ready to die of shame and vexation; but when she turned to where her mother had sat, there was nothing to be seen but a golden stool, the like of which had never been seen on earth before.‘My princess,’ asked the prince, astonished, ‘whence comes that golden stool?’‘From my mother’s house,’ replied the daughter, full of gratitude to the great Sun, who had saved her from disgrace.‘Nay! if there are such wondrous things to be seen in your mother’s house,’ quoth the prince gaily, ‘I must needs go and see it. To-morrow we will set out on our journey, and you shall show me all it contains.’In vain the daughter put forward one pretext and another: the prince’s curiosity had been aroused by the sight of the marvellous golden stool, and he was not to be gainsaid.Then the daughter cried once more to the Sun, in her distress, saying,‘O gracious Sun, help me now!’But no answer came, and with a heavy heart she set out next day to show the prince her mother’s house. A goodly procession they made, with horsemen and footmen clothed in royal liveries surrounding the bride’s palanquin, where sat the daughter, her heart sinking at every step.And when they came within sight of where her mother’s hut used to stand, lo! on the horizon showed a shining, flaming golden palace, that glittered and glanced like solid sunshine. Within and without all was gold,—golden servants and a golden mother!There they stopped, admiring the countless marvels of the Sun palace, for three days, and when the third was completed, the prince, more enamoured of his bride than ever, set his face homewards; but when he came to the spot where he had first seen the glittering golden palace from afar, he thought he would just take one look more at the wondrous sight, and, lo! there was nothing to be seen save a low thatched hovel!Then he turned to his bride, full of wrath, and said, ‘You are a witch, and have deceived me by your detestable arts! Confess, if you would not have me strike you dead!’But the daughter fell on her knees, saying, ‘My gracious prince, I have done nothing! I am but a poor homeless girl. It was the Sun that did it.’Then she told the whole story from beginning to end, and the prince was so well satisfied that from that day he too worshipped the Sun.
When we reached War Eagle’s lodge we stopped near the door, for the old fellow was singing—singing some old, sad song of younger days and keeping time with his tom-tom. Somehow the music made me sad and not until it had ceased, did we enter.“How! How!”—he greeted us, with no trace of the sadness in his voice that I detected in his song.“You have come here to-night to learn why the Curlew’s bill is so long and crooked. I will tell you, as I promised, but first I must smoke.”In silence we waited until the pipe was laid aside, then War Eagle began:“By this time you know that OLD-man was not always wise, even if he did make the world, and all that is on it. He often got into trouble but something always happened to get him out of it. What I shall tell you now will show you that it is not well to try to do things just because others do them. They may be right for others, and wrong for us, but OLD-man didn’t understand that, you see.“One day he saw some mice playing and went near to watch them. It was spring-time, and the frost was just coming out of the ground. A big flat rock was sticking out of a bank near a creek, and the sun had melted the frost from the earth about it, loosening it, so that it was about to fall. The Chief-Mouse would sing a song, while all the other mice danced, and then the chief would cry ‘now!’ and all the mice would run past the big rock. On the other side, the Chief-Mouse would sing again, and then say ‘now!’—back they would come—right under the dangerous rock. Sometimes little bits of dirt would crumble and fall near the rock, as though warning the mice that the rock was going to fall, but they paid no attention to the warning, and kept at their playing. Finally OLD-man said:“‘Say, Chief-Mouse, I want to try that. I want to play that game. I am a good runner.’“He wasn’t, you know, but he thought he could run. That is often where we make great mistakes—when we try to do things we were not intended to do.“‘No—no!’ cried the Chief-Mouse, as OLD-man prepared to make the race past the rock. ‘No!—No!—you will shake the ground. You are too heavy, and the rock may fall and kill you. My people are light of foot and fast. We are having a good time, but if you should try to do as we are doing you might get hurt, and that would spoil our fun.’“‘Ho!’ said OLD-man, ‘stand back! I’ll show you what a runner I am.’“He ran like a grizzly bear, and shook the ground with his weight. Swow!—came the great rock on top of OLD-man and held him fast in the mud. My! how he screamed and called for aid. All the Mice-people ran away to find help. It was a long time before the Mice-people found anybody, but they finally found the Coyote, and told him what had happened. Coyote didn’t like OLD-man very much, but he said he would go and see what he could do, and he did. The Mice-people showed him the way, and when they all reached the spot—there was OLD-man deep in the mud, with the big rock on his back. He was angry and was saying things people should not say, for they do no good and make the mind wicked.“Coyote said: ‘Keep still, you big baby. Quit kicking about so. You are splashing mud in my eyes. How can I see with my eyes full of mud? Tell me that. I am going to try to help you out of your trouble.’ He tried but OLD-man insulted Coyote, and called him a name that is not good, so the Coyote said, ‘Well, stay there,’ and went away.“Again OLD-man began to call for helpers, and the Curlew, who was flying over, saw the trouble, and came down to the ground to help. In those days Curlew had a short, stubby bill, and he thought that he could break the rock by pecking it. He pecked and pecked away without making any headway, till OLD-man grew angry at him, as he did at the Coyote. The harder the Curlew worked, the worse OLD-man scolded him. OLD-man lost his temper altogether, you see, which is a bad thing to do, for we lose our friends with it, often. Temper is like a bad dog about a lodge—no friends will come to see us when he is about.“Curlew did his best but finally said: ‘I’ll go and try to find somebody else to help you. I guess I am too small and weak. I shall come back to you.’ He was standing close to OLD-man when he spoke, and OLD-man reached out and grabbed the Curlew by the bill. Curlew began to scream—oh, my—oh, my—oh, my—as you still hear them in the air when it is morning. OLD-man hung onto the bill and finally pulled it out long and slim, and bent it downward, as it is to-day. Then he let go and laughed at the Curlew.“‘You are a queer-looking bird now. That is a homely bill, but you shall always wear it and so shall all of your children, as long as there are Curlews in the world.’“I have forgotten who it was that got OLD-man out of his trouble, but it seems to me it was the bear. Anyhow he did get out somehow, and lived to make trouble, until Manitou grew tired of him.“There are good things that OLD-man did and to-morrow night, if you will come early, I will tell you how OLD-man made the world over after the water made its war on the land, scaring all the animal-people and the bird-people. I will also tell you how he made the first man and the first woman and who they were. But now the grouse is fast asleep; nobody is stirring but those who were made to see in the dark, like the owl and the wolf.— Ho!”
O it was so hot, so hot; the earth was well-nigh parched up, and moreover the use of water was restricted in the town where the children lived. The flowers in the little garden were drooping for want of moisture, and the trees began to shed their leaves as if it were already autumn instead of July. The schools were obliged to close early; the children came home at eleven o’clock instead of at one, and announced that they had heat holidays. For there is a regulation in Germany, if the thermometer is over a certain degree in the shade, the school is closed for the rest of the day. The high schools do not have classes in the afternoon; the children have six hours lessons in the morning, with intervals of course for recreation and drilling. Some headmasters douche the walls of the school-building with cold water, and then examine the thermometer; but children as well as teachers think this a very mean thing to do.The school holidays commence at the beginning of July, not in August, as is the case in England. This year the two little girls, Trudel and Lottchen, and their mother were going to stay at a farm, which was situated high up in the midst of the most lovely woods. Trudel, I must tell you, was ten years old, and Lottchen eight; they both went to the same school. This farm was an inn at the same time; but very few people visited it during the week, and by nine o’clock the house was empty of guests; for the woodways were hardly safe at night. It was easy to get lost in those vast forests where one path so closely resembles the other.It was a long climb up from the station; the children began to flag, and mother was tired. Father had come with them to settle them in; but he could not stay longer than the first day or two; for his holidays did not begin till August. He invented all sorts of games for getting along quicker; he deposited chocolate on stones or tree-stumps by the wayside, which was discovered by the children with a shout of joy. Then just as Lottchen’s legs were beginning to ache badly, and she was nearly crying, he helped them on by telling the story of the assassination of Julius Cæsar. Trudel had read about it in her history-book at school; but it was written in such dreadfully historical language that she had not understood the story; she found it thrillingly interesting as father told it. Lottchen said that she could never have treated her little friend Hansi so cruelly, and that she hated that man Brutus.At last they reached the end of the woodpath, and there lay Waldheim—for so the farm was called—before them. A big dog sprang out to meet them. Mother and Lottchen shrank back from his rough welcome; but Trudel was soon ordering him about, and did not seem in the least surprised when he obeyed her. His name was Bruno. The farm consisted of a group of buildings; two houses, one for the farm labourers and the maids, the other for guests. There were also large barns which had been newly erected, and a pond.Round the houses were fields belonging to the farm, and then everywhere woods, woods, woods. Blue mountain-crests were visible above and beyond the woods.The children partly unpacked the boxes themselves; for mother was still so tired. They even took off her boots and put on her shoes for her, like kind little daughters, and Trudel put away their clothes neatly in the cupboard. Then they all went downstairs joyfully to a cosy tea, which, I need hardly say, they enjoyed very much after their long walk and journey.After tea all fatigue vanished, and the children flew out to inspect the premises for themselves. The farmer had two boys of about the same age as Trudel and Lottchen. Their names were Hermann and Fritz. Hermann was very shy; he hid himself at first and peeped out at the strange girls from corners of the yard or barns, rushing away when they caught sight of him. However Trudel soon coaxed him out, and they all played ball together.Then Hermann and Fritz took the girls round the farm. They went first into the cow-shed; there were fourteen cows, seven calves and a bull. The cow-herd was a strange, uncanny-looking fellow with a great shock of red hair, and a very red face. He shouted at the children in a dreadful hoarse voice; they felt frightened of him at first, and thought he was mad; but they soon found out that the poor fellow was only deaf and dumb. The cows were his intimate friends. He had christened each one of them when they were born: Sophie, Emma, and so on. After they had gone home again, the children learnt to their pride that he had named two new calves after them, Trudel and Lotty.There were four horses that were used for driving and ploughing. Lottchen was especially fond of horses. She liked to see them come home from the field by themselves and walk straight into the stable with a noble air, like a lord returning to his castle. Her favourite horse was called Hector. Lotty noticed one day that he was left alone in the stable, whilst the other horses were ploughing in the field. The stable-door was open, and after a while to her surprise he walked out. “What is he going to do? I hope he will not run away and get lost,” thought Lotty anxiously. But no, he just walked leisurely up to the field where the other horses were hard at work and looked on! It was evidently dull in the stable and he wanted a little distraction. When he was tired of watching his friends, he returned to the stable, where he was found innocently munching hay as if nothing had happened.Pigs of course were there too in plenty; they ran about everywhere, grunting and snorting; also geese and chickens. Trudel liked to drive the geese into the water; she was fond of commanding, as her little sister sometimes knew to her cost.The maids were two peasant girls who wore very short full skirts and a great many petticoats. Their dress was a modification of the wonderful Hessen peasant costume. These girls were ready to do anything for the children. Gustel, who was chief waitress and chambermaid at the same time, said that she had never seen such pretty “kindersche” (little children) in all her life before!The only other guest in the house at this time was a Herr Baron; he told wonderful stories of his adventures in South America.“Drought,” he said, “yes, that’s very bad, but floods may be worse. I have known years of labour destroyed in one night by a flood. All the beautiful fields of grain, our sole wealth. I lived at that time with my married sister and her family, and we had only just time to rescue ourselves and the children. I was the last to leave the house which we were never to see again. I could not decide which of my possessions to take with me, so I seized up the skin of a puma that I had shot on another memorable occasion, and bore it off on my shoulder, like Jason carrying the golden fleece, and that was all that was left of my personal property. Ah! it needs patience to conquer the elements,” he said.Altogether the Herr Baron was a wonderful character; he seemed as if he were not real, but had stepped out of a book of romance. He delighted in reading English stories; he was especially fond of “She” and “King Solomon’s Mines.” The children believed that he smoked day and night; for they had never seen him without a cigarette, except at meal-times.He told father and mother the story of how he had had a bullet extracted from his side that he had carried about with him for years. It had struck him during one of the revolutions that so frequently go on in South America. The bullet had recently set up inflammation, and a dangerous operation was necessary to remove it. “Chloroform! not if I know it,” he said to the doctors. “Just you let me smoke my cigar, and I shall be all right. I won’t say ‘Oh!'”The doctors were naturally very astonished and demurred at this new method of treatment; but he persisted in his determination, and the cigar never left his mouth till the painful business was successfully over!The Herr Baron was a mysterious person; why he lived for months together in that lonely spot, no one knew. True, he was fond of hunting, and went out at nights with the landlord to hunt the stag.There were hunting-boxes made of logs of wood, with steps that led up into them, placed in different positions in the woods near the inn.The children loved to climb up into them. A hunting-box made such a nice airy room, they said; but mother was glad when they were down again without broken limbs.Mother was surprised when she entered the inn-parlour to find the Herr Baron engaged in a game of quartette with Trudel and Lottchen and Fritz. Indeed he was so sociable and kind and fond of children that she thought it was a pity that he had none of his own.On the pond near the house were two most remarkable-looking boats. These Hermann and Fritz had made themselves with the aid, I believe, of the Herr Baron. They had a long stick and punted about in them on the water, and they managed them quite cleverly. To Trudel and Lottchen they seemed to suggest Robinson Crusoe and all sorts of fine adventures.One day when mother was reading a book which absorbed her attention, and so was safe not to interfere with them, they thought, the children stole down to the pond. Hermann and Fritz were waiting for them. It was a pre-conceived plan. “Come along and get in,” they shouted to the girls.“I daren’t,” said Lottchen. “Mother would be so cross; she has forbidden us to go near the water.”“You are surely not going to spoil the fun,” said Trudel. “Come along; I’m going to get in first. I can swim, you know!”“But not in mud and water-weeds,” said Lottchen wisely.The boys began to laugh at them.“Why, you’re funky, I do believe; the pond isn’t really deep anywhere,” they said.So with beating hearts the children got into the boats, Trudel with Fritz, and Hermann, who was the eldest of the party, with Lottchen. It was splendid, quite a real adventure.“Sit still in the middle of the boat,” said Fritz; “I think we had better keep near the bank.”“It’s going down on my side; O dear, what shall I do?” said Trudel. “I don’t like it! I want to get out.”“You’re a bit too heavy and upset the balance,” said Fritz. “Very well, then, get out!”Trudel tried to do so; but the boat was very wobbly. It was not so easy; her foot slipped, and in she stepped with one foot into the deep mud. She grasped convulsively hold of a willow bush that grew on the bank.Meanwhile Hermann, seeing the predicament they were in, jumped out of his boat, leaving poor Lottchen quite alone. She began to scream with all her might and main, and she could make a fine noise when she chose.Mother heard the cries though she was some way off and flew to the pond.The maids who were bleaching the linen in the meadow, came running to the rescue as well, as fast as their legs could carry them.Lotty was soon helped out of the boat. Trudel had rescued herself with Hermann’s assistance, and she looked very red and ashamed of herself. She said she did not wish for any more Robinson Crusoe adventures of that sort. Mother naturally gave the children a good talking to; but she thought they had been punished enough this time for their disobedience, by the fright they had had.The Tree ManThere was a tree in the garden that was ideal to climb, and mother allowed the children to do so, for she had been very fond of climbing herself when she was a child.They wore old serge skirts and jerseys that they could not spoil.This tree made a splendid arbour, or house with a suite of rooms. Lottchen sat up in the branches like a little bird, and like a little bird she sang all the songs she knew. From this tree you could see the mountain called the Stellerskuppe and the blue sky through the tree-stems on the summit. At sunset time, the sky behind the trees turned a golden colour, till it looked like a picture of fairyland.It was a fine view, but still you could not see from here the famous oak-tree, where the little green tree man lived. This was ten minutes’ walk from the farm.Trudel and Lottchen saw him first on a wet day when they had set out for a walk in spite of the rain, with their green waterproof cloaks on with hoods over their heads, looking for all the world like wood-goblins themselves. They were walking down a narrow green path, and mother was some distance behind.“Do just look, Trudel,” said Lottchen. “I believe there is a little man in that hollow tree!”“So there is, he is smiling and bowing to us, let’s go and visit him,” said Trudel, always enterprising.Lottchen hung back, feeling a little afraid; she was always on the look-out for the unexpected, and yet was surprised when something really happened.“Come along, darling,” said Trudel, grasping her smaller sister by the hand.They both distinctly saw the little man; they said they could have drawn him afterwards, and indeed they attempted to do so as well as they could. But as they approached the venerable oak, the little man vanished, and all they saw was a strange green stain on the inside of the tree, resembling a dwarf with a peaked hood on.“Just look at this Gothic window,” said Lottchen, proud of her knowledge of the word “Gothic.” “How nicely this tree-room is carved. I am sure he lives here; where are his little chairs and tables? I should love to see them.”They peeped through a window or hole in the old tree and saw their mother approaching.“Mother, mother, here lives a real tree man; we saw him—didn’t you?”Mother smiled—what the children called her mysterious smile.“You look like two little wood-men yourselves,” she said. “Lottchen, stand up straight in the hole and look at me.”Lottchen stood up just fitting into the green mark on the tree behind her. She made a pretty picture, her laughing brown eyes with the long eyelashes, her rosy cheeks, and the wind-blown hair straying from under her hood.“O look, Lottchen, here is a little basin of holy water, just like we saw in the cathedral,” said Trudel.“Wood water,Nice and brown,In a little cup.Wood water,Wood wine,Won’t you drink it up?”said a tiny voice that sounded like that of a wood-bird.“Mother! did you hear anything, mother?”“Yes, darlings, the birds are singing so sweetly now the rain is over. I have brought my camp-stool. I shall sit here and sketch the tree,” said mother.“Do draw him,” said Trudel, whose blue eyes were open wider than usual.“Him! Whom do you mean?” said mother.“Why, the tree man, of course.”“Hum,” said mother mysteriously, “we’ll see,” and she settled herself down to sketch.The children collected huge acorns, and laid them on a leaf in the hollow tree. Then they stirred up the brackish “holy” water and put their fingers in it.“It smells like lavender and roses,” said Lottchen.“Well, you’ve got a funny nose; it smells to me like blackberry and apple-tart,” said Trudel.“Ha—ha—he!” said a little voice again. Somebody was laughing. Where could he be? Glancing round quickly the children saw a little man about three feet high, dressed in green, wearing a long peaked cap with a wreath of tiny oak-leaves around it. He looked very strong, although he was small, and he stuck his arms out akimbo in a curious angular way like the branches of an oak-tree.“How did you know that trees were alive?” he asked the children.They were embarrassed by the question.“Why, of course we know they are not dead, unless they are cut down,” they said.The little man shuddered; then he began to wave his arms about wildly.“Let them try to cut me down, I’ll knock them down. I’ll fall on them and crush their bones. I’ll smash them like this stone!” Here he gave a stone that stood near by, such a tremendous whack that sparks flew out of it.“Don’t smash us, please, Mr Tree Man,” said Lottchen trembling.“No fear, little Miss Lottchen, no fear, you’re a nice little thing, you are; one can see that to look at you. You would never cut me down, would you?”“Why, of course not,” said Lotty.“I should not dream of such a thing either,” said Trudel. “But may we ask who you are?” Trudel continued, “You are surely not a tree?”“Well, it’s like this,” said the little man; “I’m a tree, and the tree’s me!”“I,” said Trudel, correcting him, “would be more correct.”“Rubbish,” said the little man, “Pedantic rot!—the tree’s me, I repeat. Every tree has its gnome or elf; they used to call us dryads in old times; but nowadays people are getting so cock-sure of knowing everything, that they can’t see what is going on right under their noses. Trees are never still,” he continued; “they are always moving.“‘Where there is movement, there is life,Where there is life, there is thought,Where there is thought, there is individuality.’“Do you follow me? That is logically expressed.”“You forget we are only children, Mr Tree Man; you are talking too grown-upy for us. Father talks like that sometimes; but then we don’t listen,” they replied.“Well,” continued the gnome, “in every tree there either lives a jolly fellow like me or a lovely lady fairy. Yes,” he said in a sentimental tone, “I, too, old and tough though I am, I, too, have known love.”“Who is she?” asked Trudel eagerly.“Alas! I can never reach her; my old bones are too stiff and unbendable. She is a graceful larch-tree in all the glory of her youth. You may see her yonder!” He sat down and sighed deeply.The children looked in the direction that the gnome had indicated, and there they saw a larch-tree on which the sunlight had just fallen. It was exquisitely dressed in a robe of delicate green and—was it only fancy?—for one moment the children thought that they saw a lovely lady with flowing tresses that gleamed golden in the sunlight, and large starry eyes. As they gazed, she melted into the blue mist which shimmers always between the forest trees.“Now we must go home, children,” mother called out, “before it begins to rain again.”The children glanced round; their little friend had vanished, and no trace was to be seen of the lady of the larch-tree. So they turned reluctantly from the tree-house fully determined to come again very soon to this enchanted spot.“Mother, may we see your sketch?”“Not now,” said mother, “it’s going to be a surprise.”“Did mother see him too?”“Do you think so?” said Lottchen. “Mother’s a fairy herself.”“I think,” said Trudel, “she sees all sorts of queer things; but she won’t tell us everything she sees.”“It spoils some things to tell about them,” said Lottchen. “I shan’t tell Hermann and Fritz about the tree man.”However, when she got home again, she could not contain herself. “Do you believe in fairies and tree men?” she said to the boys.“Of course not, that’s all rot,” said Hermann. “Like Santa Claus and such things, just invented to stuff us up!”“Santa Claus will never come to you any more if you talk like that; he is quite true, I know. Trudel saw him come in last year when she was in bed, and she heard him filling our stockings. Of course she did not dare to turn round and look at him,” said Lottchen.“I don’t say it isn’t nice to believe such things,” said Hermann conscientiously, “but it isn’t true; it’s superstitious. You know quite well, Trudel, who Santa Claus really is.”Trudel was silent; she was ten years old, and she had her doubts.“But I’ve seen a tree man to-day,” said Lotty.The boys laughed.“Don’t try to stuff us up with such nonsense; we’re not so green as your tree man,” they said.Gustel, the maid, came in, and joined in the conversation. She supported the boys’ view.“I don’t care,” said Lottchen, now in a high state of excitement. “My mother knows a man—a very clever Irishman—a poet and a painter as well, and he has often seen the fairies.”“Yes,” said Trudel, “it’s true he draws them just as he sees them with rainbow-coloured wings.”“Well I never, you don’t expect me to believe such things, do you?” said Gustel. “Why, that’s all lies, and it is very wicked to tell a lie!”Lotty flew into a perfect tantrum. “How dare you say we tell lies; I will tell my mother of you,” she screamed, and threw herself on the floor crying violently.Mother rushed in, not knowing what had happened. “Lotty, get up at once; tell me what’s the matter, darling!”“Booh!—booh—booh!—Gustel won’t believe—booh, booh, booh—that you know a man who has seen the fairies!”Mother could not help laughing. “Don’t be so absurd, Lotty. Of course Gustel does not understand what you mean. Gustel,” she said, “you are a Catholic and believe in the saints; they saw very queer things too, sometimes, didn’t they?”“O yes, you’re right; of course, ma’am,” said Gustel, feeling embarrassed; for she had no arguments to support her disbelief in fairies.“Some people can see more than others,” continued mother. “Now if I were to tell you that I could see the old poacher or wild huntsman who used to live in this house, riding through the yard on a moonlight night, what would you say?”“Lor, ma’am, if I saw him, I should die of fright,” said Gustel, turning pale.“But you know that there are no such things as ghosts and fairies!”“Yes, ma’am, very true, ma’am, it’s rather confusing what you say,” said poor Gustel, feeling her head in a whirl.It was a wonderful moonlight night. As father was still away, mother sat by herself in the big bedroom, whilst the children slept in the little room adjoining. There was a very high wind; the window-panes rattled; the wooden shutters blew to and fro; the branches of the trees made weird patterns on the ground. The moonlight was so white that the fields and paths looked almost as if they were covered with snow. The Stellerskuppe stood out black against the sky. As mother gazed, it seemed to her as if strange creatures were abroad that night, driven to and fro by that tireless hunter, the wind. Wild forms passed by and gazed at her with deathless eyes; for a while she remained there motionless, as under a spell. Then suddenly she remembered her joke about the old huntsman of evil repute, who had formerly lived in this farmhouse. Did his ghost haunt it still? Mother shivered; the nights were cold up in the mountains, though it was such a hot summer. She opened the door of the children’s room and peeped in. To tell the truth, she felt a little creepy, and longed for human companionship. There were her darlings, sleeping soundly; but as she entered the room Trudel turned round and flung herself on the other side of the bed, saying: “Go away, go away, do not come near me!”“Whom do you mean, darling?” said mother anxiously.Then Trudel groaned and spoke again in her sleep. She uttered the following deep and mystic words: “Gustel, bring in the shark, please; mother can’t eat the thimble.”Now, wasn’t that a funny thing for a little girl to say in her sleep. Mother was so amused that she wrote the words down on the spot, so as not to forget them, and she troubled her head no more with thoughts of the wild huntsman; indeed the spectres of the night vanished as they always do vanish at a joke!Some days passed, before the children visited the oak-tree again. When they did so, they found that an enormous branch had been broken off, and lay across the green pathway.“O dear me,” said Lottchen, “our poor little man. I hope it hasn’t hurt him!”“It must have happened on that windy night,” said Trudel.“It was my own fault, it was entirely my own fault,” said a queer little voice, and there was the oak-tree man sitting in his house smoking a reed pipe. His arm was bound up with green fern leaves. “Yes, it was my own fault; the wind excited me, and stirred my sap (that’s my blood you know)—I stretched out my arms towards her—one embrace—one blessed moment in which to call her mine—and here you see me a cripple for ever!”“O poor thing, we are so sorry for you,” said the children.“Never mind, it heals easily,” said the oak man, “but, alas, my beauty and my symmetry are gone for ever!”“Your leaves are so nice and fresh; and your house is so pretty; why, you have got furniture in it,” said the children in astonishment.“Such a pretty oak table and beautifully carved chairs; where did you get them from?” asked Lottchen.“I made them myself out of my own wood; it cheered me up a bit,” said the little man. “One must do something, you know; looks snug, doesn’t it? Ah, well—I have known love, that is something to be proud of; I have experienced the most pleasing of human emotions. Have you ever been in love?” he said inquisitively, looking at Trudel, who looked big enough in his eyes.“Why no, not exactly, we’re only kiddies; but still we do love lots of people, of course,” said she.“Your day will come, your day will come. Do not desire the unattainable, but content yourself with the reachable,” he said; “and yet ”Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,’ as the dear old poem says.”“He’s getting grand in his language again; he is a funny little man,” said Trudel in a whisper to Lottchen.“Stay,” said the tree man, “I have a good idea; I will give you a card of introduction to her, my beloved Lady Larch-tree.”He gave them an oak leaf with the words: “Edle Eiche,” printed on it, which is in English Noble Oak.“You need not say anything; she will know it comes from me,” he said, sighing sentimentally.Full of curiosity, the children turned to go to the larch-tree, which was only a few steps further down the green pathway. The ardent lover watched the children from the window of his little house. They knocked three times on the bark of the larch-tree; and they were very pleased when a door opened in the tree, and a lovely lady was revealed to them. Her dress was of green, looped up with tiny pink flowers such as grow on the larches in early spring; her hair streamed down like a soft veil about her. She hardly seemed to see the children at first, when they presented their cards. She took the oak-leaf cards and pressed them to her heart.“Heart of oak! King of the forest! for ever mine,” she murmured, and her words were like the sound that a little brook makes when it trickles beneath dark forest trees.“He sends you his love,” said the children politely.“You dear little things,” said Lady Larch; “it was so kind of you to come and call on me. So you understand trees and their language, dear, dear, so young and so clever! Would you like some wood wine?”“Not if it is dirty water with caterpillars in it,” said Trudel.“O dear no, it is purified and refined; it is most delicious.” So saying, she handed each of them a large acorn cup full; and they drank the contents.“It does taste nice, dear fairy,” said the children, “like what we make ourselves at a doll’s feast. May we ask you for some more?”“No, no, it is very strong, and would get into your heads, and you would find out all about…. No, I’m sorry … but——”“Children,” said mother’s voice, “where are you? I have been looking for you.”“We have only been to call on Lady Larch, mother; she has shut her door tight again or we would have introduced you to her,” said Lotty.They came home rather late that evening and found the farm in a great state of commotion. The red-haired cow-herd was shouting and crying in an unintelligible way; the house seemed to be deserted. They met the Herr Baron also preparing to set out in a hurry.“What’s the matter? Where is everybody?” said mother.“The silly old cow-herd has lost one of the best cows; it has strayed off among the bushes, and may die if it is exposed all night. Who knows where the poor creature may have got to in these vast woods?”The search went on till late at night; the men, including the Herr Baron, walked miles with their lanterns, but in vain. The deaf mute was in a dreadful state of mind and kept crying out in his harsh, disagreeable voice: “Not my fault—Schimmel’s fault.” (Schimmel was the cow.)It was difficult enough to sleep that night; but when mother had at last dropped into a light doze, it must have been about four o’clock in the morning, she and the children were aroused by a great shouting and disturbance in the house. They looked out of the window and—what do you think?—there was the lost cow, who had returned after all of her own accord. And with her a dear little black and white calf, who frisked and bounded along as if it thought it was fine fun to be in the world on this lovely morning. Now wasn’t that a queer thing, children, queerer than all the fairy stories you have read? for this story is quite true, you must know!It was an exceptionally fine Sunday, and as father had come down to spend the week-end, mother and the children were in the seventh heaven of joy. It was not possible to go to church; for the nearest town was two hours’ walk away, and would be partly over fields that were exposed to the heat of the midday sun. So father and mother and their two little daughters went to the great woodland cathedral.The service was on the Stellerskuppe; surely no one could wish for a more beautiful place of worship. Mountain after mountain ranged in the distance, some with rounded or knolled heads, others rising to a peak. Lottchen called the most pointed one Mesuvius, because she always forgot the “V.”As the children sat there and sang hymns, with their white Sunday frocks on, mother fancied that eyes were peering at them from out the forest depths. If they were merely those of the gentle deer, or if stranger creatures still were watching them as if fascinated, she did not know: she felt there were lookers-on. There is the old story of the God Pan who played so divinely that all living things came to listen to him. Perhaps there may be a stirring at times in the souls of the mysterious dwellers in the forest that makes them yearn for immortality and gives them a fuller sense of existence. So that all the woodland sang too at that Sunday service.On Sunday afternoon, father and mother wanted to go for a longer walk than usual; but the lazy children petitioned to be left behind.“You will promise not to go near the pond,” said mother. “Remember it is Sunday, and you have your best frocks on; you must not romp or climb trees.”“O no, mother, of course not,” said Trudel. “We’ll stay in the garden and promise to be very good.”When father and mother returned from their walk, the first thing they saw was Lottchen staggering along with a stand of empty beer-bottles.“Whatever are you doing, Lottchen?”“Oh, mother, there are such heaps of people here this afternoon, and there are not enough waitresses to serve them; so Trudel and I are helping. Trudel has got such a lot of tips already; she has bought chocolate with the money. Do tell her to divide it fairly with me!”Mother looked round. The whole place was covered with tables and benches; a number of gaily dressed people from the neighbouring town were drinking coffee and eating cake or waffeln, a kind of pancake for which the inn was celebrated.“Mother, don’t speak to me, I’m too busy,” said Trudel. “I’ve been waiting on those gentlemen; the maids were shy of them, so I said I would go and ask what they wanted.” She pointed out some young men in officers’ uniform, who had come from a military school. “I’ve got 6d. in tips, and I spent it on chocolate.”“Well I never!” said mother, astonished at her daughter’s prowess—”you have turned into a waitress, and on Sunday afternoon too. Whatever would your aunts say?”“I think I had better tell you what the young men said to me,” said Trudel seriously. “They said I was a sweet little thing, and that if I were older, they would fall in love with me. I laughed of course; I could see they were only silly old stupid heads. I told them they had not much taste; for their military school was the ugliest building in all the town. They quite agreed with me about this, however, and then they asked me who my father was, and when I said he was a professor, they laughed till I thought they would burst. But now you must excuse me, really, mother darling. I have promised to go into the kitchen and wash up cups and saucers!”The landlady could not praise Trudel enough. Such a useful little girl, she does everything in a most orderly way and wipes down the table when she has finished! “If ever you want her to learn housekeeping, pray send her to me, I should be delighted to teach her,” she said.“Yes,” thought mother, “and make a nice little slavey of her into the bargain. No, no, our Trudel is not going to turn into a housemaid!”If Trudel had been some years older, father and mother might have objected to these experiences; but, as it was, they only laughed.As the world is full of fact and fancy, so is this story. Whether it is based mostly on fact or on fancy we will leave to the German philosophers to decide, but I have heard that they are doubtful on this point, with regard to the world, I mean.It was a magical evening. Trudel was so engrossed in a game of cards with the boys that she could not be induced to come out; moreover she had a slight cold and the evenings were chilly. A glorious sunset glow illumined the sky as mother and Lottchen set out for their never-to-be-forgotten walk.“We will go up and see the fire on the heath; I love the smell of dry pine wood burning,” said mother.“I love to see the fire dancing and crackling,” said Lottchen. “How still everything is.”“It is the calm of twilight. The wind usually drops in the evening,” said mother.“Look, look, over there by those dark woods there is something moving,” said Lotty. “I think it is a white cat.”“A white cat! How queer that she should have strayed so far; she does not belong to the farm, I know.”“Hush! perhaps she is not a cat at all—then she will vanish.” And lo and behold when they looked again, there was no cat there, though they had distinctly seen it a minute before on the field at the wood’s edge.“She is really a witch, I believe,” said mother, with the curious expression on her face that Lotty knew so well.Going further up the hill, they saw a wonderful sight. Twenty or more peasant girls were busy working, hacking the ground, their faces illuminated by the wonderful sunset glow. They wore short full peasant skirts edged with bright-coloured ribbons, and each had a gaily coloured scarf pinned round the neck and bodice.We learned afterwards that they were preparing the ground to plant young fir-trees on a clearing. Germans are so careful of their woods, they replant what has been cut down, so that they have a great wealth in wood that we cannot boast of in England. I believe that they would like to cut off all the dead branches in order to make the woods quite tidy! But this would be rather too big a job even for the German nation to accomplish!A man dressed in green with a feather in his cap, and a gun over his shoulder stood by watching the girls at their work.He was a forester and seemed to act as overseer. He gave the signal to stop work as the strangers (mother and Lotty) approached. The women hid their tools under the dry heather until the next day, and then strapped on the big baskets they carried on their backs, without which they hardly felt properly dressed. They then marched along together, singing a melodious song in unison. As they came to the cross-roads they parted company; some went this way, some that; all kept up the tune, which echoed farther and farther, fainter and fainter in the distance.Before long Lottchen and her mother were alone; but they felt that the ground they stood on, was enchanted. Mother said it was like a scene from the opera. They watched the fire; how the flames leaped and crackled; yet they were dying down. The fire made a bright contrast to the dark fir-woods which formed the background to the picture. The glory died from the sky; but yet it was strangely light; darker and darker grew the woods near the fire. Suddenly Lotty espied bright sparks among the trees.“I do believe they have set the wood on fire,” said mother.“O no, mother, don’t you see; let us crouch down and hide; it is the fairies: they are coming to the fire.”The air was suddenly full of bright beings.“There is a wood fire on the hill;High on the heath it glimmers still.Who are these beings in the airWith gauzy robes and flowing hair?Is it the wreathing smoke I seeThat forms itself so curiously? Nay, they alight: they form a ring,Around the flickering fire spring,And from those embers burning lowThey light their wands, they gleam, they glow,Like firework stars of rainbow hue,Green, yellow, orange, lilac, blue! Ah what a scene, how wild, how strange!The stars each moment break and changeIn thousand colours; look on high:Each slender wand points to the sky,Then waves and trembles: lo afarOn lonely woods falls many a star!”And all this Trudel had missed. It seemed too great a pity, with that silly old card playing.Spellbound mother and Lotty watched the fairies at their revels, till Lottchen began to shiver.“We really must go home,” whispered mother. “Trudel will be anxious.”“Oh, but mother I want to dance round the fire with the fairies, and I want a fairy wand with shooting stars,” said Lotty almost aloud.Suddenly it seemed as if the fairies became aware that they were observed. They vanished away, and all became dark. Lottchen said she could hear the sound of little feet stamping out the fire.“Fairies, dear fairies, come again, do,” said Lotty.No answer, perfect stillness, not even a leaf stirred.“Well, you are not so polite as our tree man, not half,” said Lotty, “though you are so pretty. Good night,” she shouted.There was a sound of suppressed laughter; then from hill and dale the word “good night” was echoed all around. Spellbound, as if in a trance, they moved toward the farm. Trudel was wild with herself when she heard what she had missed.“To-morrow,” she said, but to-morrow is sometimes a long, long way off, and the fairies did not show themselves again during these holidays.One of Lottchen’s favourite walks was the echo walk, but she usually came home quite hoarse after having been this way. The path wound below the fairy heath on the incline of the hill; further down still were the fir-woods through which the light shone.“Angel-pet!” “Cherry-ripe!” “Cheeky fellow!” “You’re another!” So Lotty shouted the whole time, and the echoes came back so surprisingly distinct that Lotty was sure it must be really the fairies answering her. When you turned the corner of the hill, the echoes ceased. It was too queer.The next day Trudel distinguished herself again. Two great cart-loads of swedes arrived that were to be stored up as fodder for the cattle in the winter. Now the joy was to throw these through a hole in the wall into the cellar. Hermann stood in the cart and Trudel threw the swedes to him as the bricklayers throw the bricks to one another. Fritz and Lottchen helped too; they had to take their turn and be very quick, as the hole was small. Hour after hour this went on, till the children were as black as chimney sweeps, and yet Trudel’s energy did not fail. At last the carts were empty, and only then did the little workers leave off, dead tired.Hermann could make curious heads out of the swedes, with eyes and nose and mouth. If you put an old candle-end inside, they looked ghastly, like some Chinese god. Lotty declared that they rolled about in the yard at night and grinned at her, and that she did not like “heads without people.”“But they are so funny, Lottchen,” said mother, and then she laughed at them and was not frightened any more.In the fields grew nice little buttony mushrooms. No one knew better than the Herr Baron where they were to be found and how to prepare them. Apparently he had lived on mushrooms in the wilds of South America. He was very kind in helping the children to fill their baskets to take home with them; for, alas, even the pleasantest of holidays must come to an end; and there was only one day left. He discovered a treasure in the field, a little mother-of-pearl knife, very old and rusty, and presented it to Trudel. He told her to soak it in petroleum to clean it. That knife was more trouble than all the rest of the luggage on the way back, for Trudel made such a fuss about it, and dissolved in tears several times when she thought that she had lost it.To leave the beautiful cool woods, the fairies, the tree man and his sweetheart, the cows and the geese and all the marvels of the country, yes, it was hard; but home is home, and always turns a smiling face to us after a long absence. How nice to rediscover one’s playthings and dolls. Trudel’s first thought was always for her doll babies, and she would rush upstairs, and embrace each one tenderly.As the children drove to the station from the farm, they passed the famous oak-tree, but no little man was to be seen.“He’s shy of the coachman, of course,” said the children.Looking back, they caught a glimpse of him in the distance, and shouted and waved their handkerchiefs.Hermann and Fritz were very sorry to say “good-bye” to their little friends; but school began the next day, and they would not have so much time for play then.The landlady told the children a great secret before they left. “The Herr Baron is going to be married next week,” she said.“Well, I am glad,” said mother. “I hope she is very nice,” and the children echoed the wish warmly.“She has lots of money, and is a countess, I believe,” continued the landlady.“Well, I do hope she does not object to smoking,” said Trudel, and they all laughed.“Mother, you have never shown us your sketch,” said Trudel during the unpacking.Mother laughed. “Where’s Lottchen? I suppose she wants to see it too?”“Here I am,” said Lotty. “Oh, do be quick and show it to us!”Mother held up the sketch. There was the hollow oak-tree, and standing in it the little tree man himself just as the children had first seen him, with his green peaked hood on.“So mother really did see him too!” said the children.Now this story disproves the common fallacy that only children can see the fairies and forest folk; for how could mother have painted the tree gnome unless she had seen him?
Once upon a time a rabbit lived all alone. Some times he felt very lonely. One day when he was lonely he picked up his drum and went outside to sing. He sang:A crow was flying near by and heard Mr. Rabbit singing and beating his drum. He flew down at once:“That drum annoys me, Mr. Rabbit. You shall not beat it,” said Mr. Crow. Then he caught Mr. Rabbit’s right arm, pulled it out and ate it.Next day Mr. Rabbit came out of his hole and beat the drum with his left arm as he sang his song.The crow heard him again. He flew down and pulled out Mr. Rabbit’s left arm and ate that up.“I told you not to beat that drum,” he said.On the third day Mr. Rabbit beat the drum with his right foot, and Mr. Crow flew down and ate his right foot up. And on the fourth day he ate up the rabbit’s left foot.So the fifth day Mr. Rabbit came out to sing. He beat the drum with his head. Immediately Mr. Crow heard him and flew down. He bit off Mr. Rabbit’s head and ate it; and then he picked up what was left of poor Mr. Rabbit and carried him up to his baby crows in the nest.
A certain man had a shepherd, who served him faithfully and honestly for many years. This shepherd, when he was once upon a time following the sheep, heard a whistling on the hill, and, not knowing what it was, went off to see. When he got to the place, there was a conflagration, and in the middle of it a serpent was squeaking. When he saw this, he waited to see how the serpent would act, for all around it was burning, and the fire had almost come close to it. When the serpent saw him, it screamed: ‘Dear shepherd, do a good action: take me out of this fire.’ The shepherd took pity on its words, and reached it his crook, and it crawled out upon it. When it had crawled out, it coiled itself round his neck. When the shepherd saw this, he was frightened, and said: ‘Indeed you are a wretch! Is that the way you are going to thank me for rescuing you? So runs the proverb: “Do good, and find evil.”’ The serpent answered him: ‘Don’t fear: I shall do you no harm; only carry me to my father; my father is the emperor of the serpents.’ The shepherd begged pardon, and excused himself: ‘I can’t carry you to your father, because I have no one to leave in charge of my sheep.’ The serpent said to him: ‘Don’t fear for your sheep; nothing will happen to them; only carry me to my father, and go quickly.’ Then there was no help for it, so he started with it over the hill. When he came to a door, which was formed of nothing but serpents intertwined, and went up to it, the serpent which was coiled round his neck gave a whistle, and the serpents, which had twined themselves into the form of a door, immediately untwined, and made way for them to enter. The shepherd opened his mouth, and the emperor of the serpents spat into it, and told him to spit also into his mouth. And thus they spat thrice into each other’s mouths. When this was done, the emperor of the serpents said to the shepherd: ‘Now you have the tongue which you desired; go, and farewell! But it is not permitted you to tell anybody, because, if you do, you will die. I am telling you the truth.’ The shepherd then departed. As he went over the hill, he understood the conversation of the birds, and, so to speak, of everything in the world. When he came to his sheep, he found them correct in number, and sat down to rest. But scarcely had he lain down, when two crows flew up, perched on a tree hard by him, and began to converse in their language: ‘If that shepherd knew that just where that black lamb lies a vault full of silver and gold is buried in the ground, he would take its contents.’ When he heard this, he went and told his master, and he brought a cart, and they broke open the door of the vault, and took out its valuable contents. His master was a righteous man, and said to him: ‘Well, my son, this is all yours; the Lord has given it you. Go, provide a house, get married, and live comfortably.’ The shepherd took the property, went away, provided a house, got married, and lived very comfortably. This shepherd, after a little time, became so rich and prosperous that there was nobody richer than he in his own or the neighbouring villages. He had shepherds, cowherds, swineherds, grooms, and everything on a handsome scale. Once upon a time this shepherd ordered his wife on New Year’s Eve to provide wine, brandy, and everything requisite, and to go the next morning to his cattle, to take the provisions to the herdsmen, that they, too, might enjoy themselves. His wife obeyed him, and did as her husband ordered her.The next day they got up, got ready, and went. When they arrived where the cattle were, the master said to his shepherds: ‘Lads, assemble together, and sit down to eat and drink your fill, and I will watch the cattle to-night.’ This was done; they assembled together, and he went out to sleep by the cattle. In the course of the night, after some time, the wolves began to howl and speak in their language, and the dogs to bark and speak in theirs. The wolves said: ‘Can we capture any young cattle?’ The dogs answered in their language: ‘Come in, that we, too, may eat our fill of flesh.’ But among the dogs there was one old dog, who had only two teeth left. This dog spoke and answered the wolves: ‘In faith, as long as these two teeth of mine last, you shan’t come near to do harm to my master.’ In the morning, when it dawned, the master called the herdsmen, and told them to kill all the dogs except that old one. His servants began to implore him: ‘Don’t, master! Why? It’s a sin.’ But he said to them: ‘Do just as I ordered you, and not otherwise.’Then he and his wife mounted their horses and went off. His wife rode a mare, and he a horse. As they went, the master’s horse outstripped the wife’s mare, and began to say to her in their language: ‘Go quicker; why do you hang back?’ The mare’s reply in defence of her lagging pace was so amusing that the man laughed out loud, turned his head, and looked behind him with a smile. His wife observed him smiling, whipped her mare to catch him up, and then asked him to tell her why he smiled. He said to her: ‘Well, suppose I did? Something came into my head.’ This answer did not satisfy her, but she began to worry him to tell her why he smiled. He said this and that to her to get out of it, but the more he said to get out of it, the more did she worry him. At length he said to her that, if he told her, he would die immediately. But she had no dread of her husband’s dying, and went on worrying him: ‘There is no alternative, but tell me you must.’ When they got home, they dismounted from their horses, and as soon as they had done so, her husband ordered a grave to be dug for him. It was dug, and he lay down in it, and said to his wife: ‘Did you not press me to tell you why I smiled? Come now, that I may tell you; but I shall die immediately.’ On saying this, he gave one more look round him, and observed that the old dog had come from the cattle. Seeing this, he told his wife to give him a piece of bread. She gave it him, but the dog would not even look at it, but shed tears and wept; but the cock, seeing it, ran up and began to peck it. The dog was angry, and said: ‘As if you’d die hungry! Don’t you see that our master is going to die?’ ‘What a fool he is! Let him die! Whose fault is it? I have a hundred wives. When I find a grain of millet, I call them all to me, and finally eat it myself. If one of them gets cross at this, I give her one or two pecks, and she lowers her tail; but this man isn’t equal to keeping one in order.’ When the man heard the cock say this, he jumped up at once out of the grave, seized a stick, chased his wife over hill and dale, and at last settled her completely, so that it never entered her head any more to ask him why he smiled.
The story of the girl who trod on the loaf, to avoid soiling her shoes, and of the misfortunes that befell this girl, is well known. It has been written, and even printed.The girl’s name was Ingé; she was a poor child, but proud and presumptuous; there was a bad foundation in her, as the saying is. When she was quite a little child, it was her delight to catch flies, and tear off their wings, so as to convert them into creeping things. Grown older, she would take cockchafers and beetles, and spit them on pins. Then she pushed a green leaf or a little scrap of paper towards their feet, and the poor creatures seized it, and held it fast, and turned it over and over, struggling to get free from the pins.“The cockchafer is reading,” Ingé would say. “See how he turns the leaf round and round!”With years she grew worse rather than better; but she was pretty, and that was her misfortune; otherwise she would have been more sharply reproved than she was.“Your headstrong will requires something strong to break it!” her own mother often said. “As a little child, you used to trample on my apron; but I fear you will one day trample on my heart.”And that is what she really did.She was sent into the country, into service in the house of rich people, who kept her as their own child, and dressed her in corresponding style. She looked well, and her presumption increased.When she had been there about a year, her mistress said to her, “You ought once to visit your parents, Ingé.”And Ingé set out to visit her parents, but it was only to show herself in her native place, and that the people there might see how grand she had become; but when she came to the entrance of the village, and the young husbandmen and maids stood there chatting, and her own mother appeared among them, sitting on a stone to rest, and with a bundle of sticks before her that she had picked up in the wood, then Ingé turned back, for she felt ashamed that she, who was so finely dressed, should have for a mother a ragged woman, who picked up wood in the forest. She did not turn back out of pity for her mother’s poverty, she was only angry.And another half-year went by, and her mistress said again, “You ought to go to your home, and visit your old parents, Ingé. I’ll make you a present of a great wheaten loaf that you may give to them; they will certainly be glad to see you again.”“She threw the loaf into the mud, and trod upon it to pass over without wetting her feet.” Illustration by Jeannie Harbour, published in Hans Christian Andersen’s Stories (1922), publisher unknown.And Ingé put on her best clothes, and her new shoes, and drew her skirts around her, and set out, stepping very carefully, that she might be clean and neat about the feet; and there was no harm in that. But when she came to the place where the footway led across the moor, and where there was mud and puddles, she threw the loaf into the mud, and trod upon it to pass over without wetting her feet. But as she stood there with one foot upon the loaf and the other uplifted to step farther, the loaf sank with her, deeper and deeper, till she disappeared altogether, and only a great puddle, from which the bubbles rose, remained where she had been.And that’s the story.But whither did Ingé go? She sank into the moor ground, and went down to the moor woman, who is always brewing there. The moor woman is cousin to the elf maidens, who are well enough known, of whom songs are sung, and whose pictures are painted; but concerning the moor woman it is only known that when the meadows steam in summer-time it is because she is brewing.Into the moor woman’s brewery did Ingé sink down; and no one can endure that place long. A box of mud is a palace compared with the moor woman’s brewery. Every barrel there has an odour that almost takes away one’s senses; and the barrels stand close to each other; and wherever there is a little opening among them, through which one might push one’s way, the passage becomes impracticable from the number of damp toads and fat snakes who sit out their time there. Among this company did Ingé fall; and all the horrible mass of living creeping things was so icy cold, that she shuddered in all her limbs, and became stark and stiff. She continued fastened to the loaf, and the loaf drew her down as an amber button draws a fragment of straw.The moor woman was at home, and on that day there were visitors in the brewery. These visitors were old Bogey and his grandmother, who came to inspect it; and Bogey’s grandmother is a venomous old woman, who is never idle: she never rides out to pay a visit without taking her work with her; and, accordingly, she had brought it on the day in question. She sewed biting-leather to be worked into men’s shoes, and which makes them wander about unable to settle anywhere. She wove webs of lies, and strung together hastily-spoken words that had fallen to the ground; and all this was done for the injury and ruin of mankind. Yes, indeed, she knew how to sew, to weave, and to string, this old grandmother!Catching sight of Ingé, she put up her double eye-glass, and took another look at the girl. “That’s a girl who has ability!” she observed, “and I beg you will give me the little one as a memento of my visit here. She’ll make a capital statue to stand in my grandson’s antechamber.”And Ingé was given up to her, and this is how Ingé came into Bogey’s domain. People don’t always go there by the direct path, but they can get there by roundabout routes if they have a tendency in that direction.That was a never-ending antechamber. The visitor became giddy who looked forward, and doubly giddy when he looked back, and saw a whole crowd of people, almost utterly exhausted, waiting till the gate of mercy should be opened to them—they had to wait a long time! Great fat waddling spiders spun webs of a thousand years over their feet, and these webs cut like wire, and bound them like bronze fetters; and, moreover, there was an eternal unrest working in every heart—a miserable unrest. The miser stood there, and had forgotten the key of his strong box, and he knew the key was sticking in the lock. It would take too long to describe the various sorts of torture that were found there together. Ingé felt a terrible pain while she had to stand there as a statue, for she was tied fast to the loaf.“That’s the fruit of wishing to keep one’s feet neat and tidy,” she said to herself. “Just look how they’re all staring at me!” Yes, certainly, the eyes of all were fixed upon her, and their evil thoughts gleamed forth from their eyes, and they spoke to one another, moving their lips, from which no sound whatever came forth: they were very horrible to behold.“It must be a great pleasure to look at me!” thought Ingé, “and indeed I have a pretty face and fine clothes.” And she turned her eyes, for she could not turn her head; her neck was too stiff for that. But she had not considered how her clothes had been soiled in the moor woman’s brewhouse. Her garments were covered with mud; a snake had fastened in her hair, and dangled down her back; and out of each fold of her frock a great toad looked forth, croaking like an asthmatic poodle. That was very disconcerting. “But all the rest of them down here look horrible,” she observed to herself, and derived consolation from the thought.The worst of all was the terrible hunger that tormented her. But could she not stoop and break off a piece of the loaf on which she stood? No, her back was too stiff, her hands and arms were benumbed, and her whole body was like a pillar of stone; only she was able to turn her eyes in her head, to turn them quite round so that she could see backwards: it was an ugly sight. And then the flies came up, and crept to and fro over her eyes, and she blinked her eyes, but the flies would not go away, for they could not fly: their wings had been pulled out, so that they were converted into creeping insects: it was horrible torment added to the hunger, for she felt empty, quite, entirely empty. “If this lasts much longer,” she said, “I shall not be able to bear it.” But she had to bear it, and it lasted on and on.Then a hot tear fell down upon her head, rolled over her face and neck, down on to the loaf on which she stood; and then another tear rolled down, followed by many more. Who might be weeping for Ingé? Had she not still a mother in the world? The tears of sorrow which a mother weeps for her child always make their way to the child; but they do not relieve it, they only increase its torment. And now to bear this unendurable hunger, and yet not to be able to touch the loaf on which she stood! She felt as if she had been feeding on herself, and had become like a thin, hollow reed that takes in every sound, for she heard everything that was said of her up in the world, and all that she heard was hard and evil. Her mother, indeed, wept much and sorrowed for her, but for all that she said, “A haughty spirit goes before a fall. That was thy ruin, Ingé. Thou hast sorely grieved thy mother.”Her mother and all on earth knew of the sin she had committed; knew that she had trodden upon the loaf, and had sunk and disappeared; for the cowherd had seen it from the hill beside the moor.“Greatly hast thou grieved thy mother, Ingé,” said the mother; “yes, yes, I thought it would be thus.”“Oh that I never had been born!” thought Ingé; “it would have been far better. But what use is my mother’s weeping now?”And she heard how her master and mistress, who had kept and cherished her like kind parents, now said she was a sinful child, and did not value the gifts of God, but trampled them under her feet, and that the gates of mercy would only open slowly to her.“They should have punished me,” thought Ingé, “and have driven out the whims I had in my head.”She heard how a complete song was made about her, a song of the proud girl who trod upon the loaf to keep her shoes clean, and she heard how the song was sung everywhere.“That I should have to bear so much evil for this!” thought Ingé; “the others ought to be punished, too, for their sins. Yes, then there would be plenty of punishing to do. Ah, how I’m being tortured!” And her heart became harder than her outward form.“Here in this company one can’t even become better,” she said, “and I don’t want to become better! Look, how they’re all staring at me!”And her heart was full of anger and malice against all men. “Now they’ve something to talk about at last up yonder. Ah, how I’m being tortured!”And then she heard how her story was told to the little children, and the little ones called her the godless Ingé, and said she was so naughty and ugly that she must be well punished.Thus, even the children’s mouths spoke hard words of her.But one day, while grief and hunger gnawed her hollow frame, and she heard her name mentioned and her story told to an innocent child, a little girl, she became aware that the little one burst into tears at the tale of the haughty, vain Ingé.“But will Ingé never come up here again?” asked the little girl.And the reply was, “She will never come up again.”“But if she were to say she was sorry, and to beg pardon, and say she would never do so again?”“Yes, then she might come; but she will not beg pardon,” was the reply.“I should be so glad if she would,” said the little girl; and she was quite inconsolable. “I’ll give my doll and all my playthings if she may only come up. It’s too dreadful—poor Ingé!”And these words penetrated to Ingé’s inmost heart, and seemed to do her good. It was the first time any one had said, “Poor Ingé,” without adding anything about her faults: a little innocent child was weeping and praying for mercy for her. It made her feel quite strangely, and she herself would gladly have wept, but she could not weep, and that was a torment in itself.While years were passing above her, for where she was there was no change, she heard herself spoken of more and more seldom. At last, one day a sigh struck on her ear: “Ingé, Ingé, how you have grieved me! I said how it would be!” It was the last sigh of her dying mother.Occasionally she heard her name spoken by her former employers, and they were pleasant words when the woman said, “Shall I ever see thee again, Ingé? One knows not what may happen.”But Ingé knew right well that her good mistress would never come to the place where she was.And again time went on—a long, bitter time. Then Ingé heard her name pronounced once more, and saw two bright stars that seemed gleaming above her. They were two gentle eyes closing upon earth. So many years had gone by since the little girl had been inconsolable and wept about “poor Ingé,” that the child had become an old woman, who was now to be called home to heaven; and in the last hour of existence, when the events of the whole life stand at once before us, the old woman remembered how as a child she had cried heartily at the story of Ingé.And the eyes of the old woman closed, and the eye of her soul was opened to look upon the hidden things. She, in whose last thoughts Ingé had been present so vividly, saw how deeply the poor girl had sunk, and burst into tears at the sight; in heaven she stood like a child, and wept for poor Ingé. And her tears and prayers sounded like an echo in the dark empty space that surrounded the tormented captive soul, and the unhoped-for love from above conquered her, for an angel was weeping for her.Why was this vouchsafed to her? The tormented soul seemed to gather in her thoughts every deed she had done on earth, and she, Ingé, trembled and wept such tears as she had never yet wept. She was filled with sorrow about herself: it seemed as though the gate of mercy could never open to her; and while in deep penitence she acknowledged this, a beam, of light shot radiantly down into the depths to her, with a greater force than that of the sunbeam which melts the snow man the boys have built up; and quicker than the snow-flake melts, and becomes a drop of water that falls on the warm lips of a child, the stony form of Ingé was changed to mist, and a little bird soared with the speed of lightning upward into the world of men. But the bird was timid and shy towards all things around; he was ashamed of himself, ashamed to encounter any living thing, and hurriedly sought to conceal himself in a dark hole in an old crumbling wall; there he sat cowering, trembling through his whole frame, and unable to utter a sound, for he had no voice.Long he sat there, before he could rightly see all the beauty around him; for it was beautiful. The air was fresh and mild, the moon cast its mild radiance over the earth; trees and bushes exhaled fragrance, and it was right pleasant where he sat, and his coat of feathers was clean and pure. How all creation seemed to speak of beneficence and love! The bird wanted to sing of the thoughts that stirred in his breast, but he could not; gladly would he have sung as the cuckoo and the nightingale sung in spring-time. But Heaven, that hears the mute song of praise of the worm, could hear the notes of praise which now trembled in the breast of the bird, as David’s psalms were heard before they had fashioned themselves into words and song.For weeks these toneless songs stirred within the bird; at last, the holy Christmas-time approached. The peasant who dwelt near set up a pole by the old wall with, some ears of corn bound to the top, that the birds of heaven might have a good meal, and rejoice in the happy, blessed time.And on Christmas morning the sun arose and shone upon the ears of corn, which were surrounded by a number of twittering birds. Then out of the hole in the wall streamed forth the voice of another bird, and the bird soared forth from its hiding-place; and in heaven it was well known what bird this was.It was a hard winter. The ponds were covered with ice, and the beasts of the field and the birds of the air were stinted for food. Our little bird soared away over the high road, and in the ruts of the sledges he found here and there a grain of corn, and at the halting-places some crumbs. Of these he ate only a few, but he called all the other hungry sparrows around him, that they, too, might have some food. He flew into the towns, and looked round about; and wherever a kind hand had strewn bread on the window-sill for the birds, he only ate a single crumb himself, and gave all the rest to the other birds.In the course of the winter, the bird had collected so many bread crumbs, and given them to the other birds, that they equalled the weight of the loaf on which Ingé had trod to keep her shoes clean; and when the last bread crumb had been found and given, the grey wings of the bird became white, and spread far out.“Yonder is a sea-swallow, flying away across the water,” said the children when they saw the white bird. Now it dived into the sea, and now it rose again into the clear sunlight. It gleamed white; but no one could tell whither it went, though some asserted that it flew straight into the sun.
There was once a poor countryman, of whom his neighbours said that he had no more wits than he was born with, and that was not many. He was, indeed a simple-minded fellow, and anybody could get the better of him. One day the countryman’s wife said to him: “Jan, put on your best smock and your soundest clogs, and go to the market to try and sell our calf. She is a good calf and you ought to get at least a hundred francs for her.”Away went Jan, along the road to the market town, with the calf behind him. He felt quite glad to be out on this fine spring day, and he hummed a merry tune as he plodded along. Three students who were lounging at the door of an inn saw him pass, and, marking his air of simplicity, thought it would be good fun to play a joke upon him, so one of them went up to him and said:“Good-morning, friend! How much are you asking for your goat?”“Goat?” answered the peasant in surprise. “This is not a goat, but a calf!”“Indeed!” said the student politely. “And who told you that?”“It was my wife,” answered the peasant. “‘Jan,’ she said, ‘go to the market and try to sell our calf.’ I am sure she said calf. I could not make a mistake about such a thing!”“Your wife was playing a joke on you,” said the student. “Anybody can see that is a goat. If you don’t believe me, ask the next person you meet on the road.” And he went off, laughing.Jan continued his walk, a little troubled in his mind, and before very long he saw the second of the students coming towards him. “Stay a minute, sir,” he cried. “Do you mind looking at this animal of mine and telling me what sort of a creature it is?”“Why, a goat, of course,” answered the student.“You’re wrong,” said the peasant. “It’s a calf. My wife says so, and she could not be mistaken!”“Have it your own way!” replied the student, “but if you’ll take my advice you won’t pretend that animal is a calf when you get to the market, unless you want to be hooted out of the town!”“Ah!” said Jan, and he went on his way, muttering to himself, and casting many a troubled glance at the innocent calf who ambled along peacefully behind him. “If it is a goat it ought to have horns,” he said to himself. “And it hasn’t got any horns. But if it is a calf it will have horns when it grows to be a cow. Perhaps it is a goat-calf. I wonder whether goat-calves have horns!” And he continued to puzzle his poor brains about the matter until he was suddenly interrupted by a shout from the side of the road. The shout came from the third student, who had been waiting for him.“Hallo, you there!” cried the student. “How much do you want for your goat?”“Goat? Goat?” murmured the peasant in dismay. “Here, take the thing. If it’s a goat, I don’t want it, for I was sent to market to sell a calf. You may have it for nothing—I’ll make you a present of it!” And so saying, he pushed the cord into the student’s hand. Then turning his back without another word, he retraced his steps towards his home.When his wife heard what had happened she was furious. “You stupid lout!” she cried, “could you not see that you were being made a fool of?” And she called him all the names she could lay her tongue to, until the poor fellow blushed and hung his head for shame. Her anger did not last long, however, for she was a good woman and she knew that her husband’s simplicity was not his fault, but his misfortune. Fortunately, she had quite enough wits for them both, and instead of wasting more time in reproaches, she set to work to think how she might pay back the practical jokers in their own coin. It did not take her long to think of a plan, and as the first step towards carrying it out, she put on her bonnet and went off to the town, where she called at three inns, paying at each of them for a dinner for four persons, the dinner to be eaten on the next market day. Returning home, she explained the plan to her husband and gave him very exact instructions as to the part he was to play.When the next market day came round Jan set off for the town, and by the door of the very first inn on the road he met the three students. They exchanged a sly smile when they saw him, and one of them said: “Good morning, good fellow. And how do you find yourself to-day? I notice that you have no goat with you this time.”“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Jan, “that was a good joke you played on me, but I bear you no ill-will for it. Come in and drink a glass of wine. I’m in funds this morning and I’ll willingly stand treat.”The students accepted Jan’s offer with enthusiasm, for they belonged to that class of men who are always thirsty. Accordingly the four went into the tavern; and Jan called for wine. When the time came to pay for it, he called the serving-maid, and taking off his cap, spun it round three times on his finger. “Madam,” said he, “everything is paid for, isn’t it?”“Yes, sir, and thank you very much,” answered the serving-maid.The three students watched this procedure with a good deal of surprise, but Jan carried off the whole affair as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Now, my friends,” said he, “the doctors say it is bad to drink on an empty stomach. What do you say to a good meal?”“Excellent,” cried the students.“Very well then, come along with me to the next inn, and you shall have one.”Laughing in their sleeves at the peasant’s simplicity, the students followed. Arrived at the inn, Jan ordered dinner for four, and a heap of good things were put upon the table. After the repast, he called the serving-maid to him, took off his cap as before, and twirled it round three times on his finger. “Now then,” said he, “everything is paid for, isn’t that so?”“Certainly, sir,” answered the serving-maid, “and I am very much obliged to you.”At this the three students opened their eyes even wider than before, but Jan took not the slightest notice of their astonishment.“What do you say, friends,” he asked, “shall we go on to the town together and wash the dinner down with a glass of ale apiece?”“As many as you please,” answered the students joyfully, and so they followed Jan to the town, where he entered a third tavern and ordered drinks all round. Then, taking off his cap once again, he twirled it round three times on his finger, and said to the innkeeper: “Everything is paid for, isn’t it, my good man?”“Certainly, sir,” said the innkeeper, bowing.But this was more than the curiosity of the students could stand.“Look here, gossip,” said one of them, “how is it that you are able to get food and drink for nothing everywhere you go, simply by twirling your cap in people’s faces?”“Oh, that’s easily explained,” answered Jan, “This cap of mine is a magic cap, which was left to me by my great-great-grandmother, who was a witch, so I have heard say. If I twirl it on my finger, and say, ‘Everything is paid for,’—well, everything is paid for! You understand me?”“Perfectly,” said the student. “My faith, but that is a wonderful cap—the very thing to have when one goes a journey! Will you sell it to me?”“How much will you give me for it?” asked Jan.“Two hundred francs!”“Nonsense! Do you think I am going to brave my wife’s anger for a paltry two hundred francs?”“Well then, three hundred.”“Not enough! My wife says it is worth a fortune.”“Four hundred.”Jan shook his head doubtfully, and, seeing his hesitation, the student cried:“Come now, we’ll give you five hundred, and not a penny more. You’d better accept, or you’ll lose your chance.”“Well then, hand over the money. I don’t know what my wife will say, but….”“She’ll give you a kiss for making such a splendid bargain,” cried the student, pushing a bag of coins into Jan’s hand and snatching the magic cap. “Hurry off home as fast as you can to tell her the good news!” Then the three went away, laughing, slapping each other on the back in their joy at having got the better of the simple peasant.That afternoon the students, eager to take advantage of the qualities of the magic cap, invited about fifty of their friends to a splendid feast at the largest inn in the town. Everybody who was invited came, as you may imagine, and the resources of the innkeeper were taxed to the utmost to supply the hungry and thirsty crowd with all that they wanted. When the feast was ended, the student who had Jan’s cap called the host, and twirling it three times round his finger, said: “Now, sir, everything is paid for, isn’t it?”“Paid for?” cried the innkeeper. “What do you mean? I’ve not seen the colour of your money yet.”At this reply the student’s face fell, but one of his companions snatched the cap from his hands. “Idiot,” said he, “you twirled the cap the wrong way! I was watching the peasant carefully, and he twisted it like this.” So saying, he gave the cap a twirl and said: “Now then, my good sir, I think you will agree that everything is paid for.”“I don’t know whether you are trying to play a joke on me?” answered the innkeeper grimly, “but your idea of humour is not mine. You had better pay up at once, before I call the police!”“Here, let me try,” cried the third; and in his turn he twirled the cap, and, fixing the host with his eye, repeated that everything was paid for.At this the innkeeper flew into a passion, and made such a fuss that the room was in an uproar. It was only by promising to pay him at once that the innkeeper could be quietened down, and prevented from putting his threat of calling the police into execution. The banquet cost a good round sum, and as the three students had no money left, their invited guests were obliged to subscribe the money between them, which they did with much grumbling. Afterwards they took their three hosts outside and dipped them into the horse-trough to punish them for their bad taste in playing practical jokes on their friends.And a few miles away, in their little cottage, Jan and his wife sat counting the five hundred francs he had got for his greasy old cap, which indeed had not been left him by his great-great-grandmother, but which was as old and ragged as though it had!
A pair of Oxen were drawing a heavily loaded waggon along the highway, and, as they tugged and strained at the yoke, the Axletrees creaked and groaned terribly. This was too much for the Oxen, who turned round indignantly and said, “Hullo, you there! Why do you make such a noise when we do all the work?”They complain most who suffer least.
The Bodhisatta was at one time born in the region of Himavanta as a white crane; now Brahmadatta was at that time reigning in Benares. Now it chanced that as a lion was eating meat a bone stuck in his throat. The throat became swollen, he could not take food, his suffering was terrible. The crane seeing him, as he was perched an a tree looking for food, asked, “What ails thee, friend?” He told him why. “I could free thee from that bone, friend, but dare not enter thy mouth for fear thou mightest eat me.” “Don’t be afraid, friend, I’ll not eat thee; only save my life.” “Very well,” says he, and caused him to lie down on his left side. But thinking to himself, “Who knows what this fellow will do,” he placed a small stick upright between his two jaws that he could not close his mouth, and inserting his head inside his mouth struck one end of the bone with his beak. Whereupon the bone dropped and fell out. As soon as he had caused the bone to fall, he got out of the lion’s mouth, striking the stick with his beak so that it fell out, and then settled on a branch. The lion gets well, and one day was eating a buffalo he had killed. The crane, thinking “I will sound him,” settled an a branch just over him, and in conversation spoke this first verse: “A service have we done theeTo the best of our ability,King of the Beasts! Your Majesty!What return shall we get from thee?”In reply the Lion spoke the second verse: “As I feed on blood,And always hunt for prey,‘Tis much that thou art still aliveHaving once been between my teeth.”Then in reply the crane said the two other verses: “Ungrateful, doing no good,Not doing as he would be done by,In him there is no gratitude,To serve him is useless.“His friendship is not wonBy the clearest good deed.Better softly withdraw from him,Neither envying nor abusing.”And having thus spoken the crane flew away.And when the great Teacher, Gautama the Buddha, told this tale, he used to add: “Now at that time the lion was Devadatta the Traitor, but the white crane was I myself.”
Once upon a time Kee′ma, the monkey, and Pa′pa, the shark, became great friends.The monkey lived in an immense mkooyoo tree which grew by the margin of the sea—half of its branches being over the water and half over the land.Every morning, when the monkey was breakfasting on the kooyoo nuts, the shark would put in an appearance under the tree and call out, “Throw me some food, my friend;” with which request the monkey complied most willingly.This continued for many months, until one day Papa said, “Keema, you have done me many kindnesses: I would like you to go with me to my home, that I may repay you.”“How can I go?” said the monkey; “we land beasts can not go about in the water.”“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” replied the shark; “I will carry you. Not a drop of water shall get to you.”“Oh, all right, then,” said Mr. Keema; “let’s go.”When they had gone about half-way the shark stopped, and said: “You are my friend. I will tell you the truth.”“Why, what is there to tell?” asked the monkey, with surprise.“Well, you see, the fact is that our sultan is very sick, and we have been told that the only medicine that will do him any good is a monkey’s heart.”“Well,” exclaimed Keema, “you were very foolish not to tell me that before we started!”“How so?” asked Papa.But the monkey was busy thinking up some means of saving himself, and made no reply.“Well?” said the shark, anxiously; “why don’t you speak?”“Oh, I’ve nothing to say now. It’s too late. But if you had told me this before we started, I might have brought my heart with me.”“What? haven’t you your heart here?”“Huh!” ejaculated Keema; “don’t you know about us? When we go out we leave our hearts in the trees, and go about with only our bodies. But I see you don’t believe me. You think I’m scared. Come on; let’s go to your home, where you can kill me and search for my heart in vain.”The shark did believe him, though, and exclaimed, “Oh, no; let’s go back and get your heart.”“Indeed, no,” protested Keema; “let us go on to your home.”But the shark insisted that they should go back, get the heart, and start afresh.At last, with great apparent reluctance, the monkey consented, grumbling sulkily at the unnecessary trouble he was being put to.When they got back to the tree, he climbed up in a great hurry, calling out, “Wait there, Papa, my friend, while I get my heart, and we’ll start off properly next time.”When he had got well up among the branches, he sat down and kept quite still.After waiting what he considered a reasonable length of time, the shark called, “Come along, Keema!” But Keema just kept still and said nothing.In a little while he called again: “Oh, Keema! let’s be going.”At this the monkey poked his head out from among the upper branches and asked, in great surprise, “Going? Where?”“To my home, of course.”“Are you mad?” queried Keema.“Mad? Why, what do you mean?” cried Papa.“What’s the matter with you?” said the monkey. “Do you take me for a washerman’s donkey?”“What peculiarity is there about a washerman’s donkey?”“It is a creature that has neither heart nor ears.”The shark, his curiosity overcoming his haste, thereupon begged to be told the story of the washerman’s donkey, which the monkey related as follows:“A washerman owned a donkey, of which he was very fond. One day, however, it ran away, and took up its abode in the forest, where it led a lazy life, and consequently grew very fat.“At length Soongoo′ra, the hare, by chance passed that way, and saw Poon′da, the donkey.“Now, the hare is the most cunning of all beasts—if you look at his mouth you will see that he is always talking to himself about everything.“So when Soongoora saw Poonda he said to himself, ‘My, this donkey is fat!’ Then he went and told Sim′ba, the lion. “As Simba was just recovering from a severe illness, he was still so weak that he could not go hunting. He was consequently pretty hungry. “Said Mr. Soongoora, ‘I’ll bring enough meat to-morrow for both of us to have a great feast, but you’ll have to do the killing.’“‘All right, good friend,’ exclaimed Simba, joyfully; ‘you’re very kind.’“So the hare scampered off to the forest, found the donkey, and said to her, in his most courtly manner, ‘Miss Poonda, I am sent to ask your hand in marriage.’“‘By whom?’ simpered the donkey.“‘By Simba, the lion.’“The donkey was greatly elated at this, and exclaimed: ‘Let’s go at once. This is a first-class offer.’“They soon arrived at the lion’s home, were cordially invited in, and sat down. Soongoora gave Simba a signal with his eyebrow, to the effect that this was the promised feast, and that he would wait outside. Then he said to Poonda: ‘I must leave you for a while to attend to some private business. You stay here and converse with your husband that is to be.’“As soon as Soongoora got outside, the lion sprang at Poonda, and they had a great fight. Simba was kicked very hard, and he struck with his claws as well as his weak health would permit him. At last the donkey threw the lion down, and ran away to her home in the forest.“Shortly after, the hare came back, and called, ‘Haya! Simba! have you got it?’“‘I have not got it,’ growled the lion; ‘she kicked me and ran away; but I warrant you I made her feel pretty sore, though I’m not strong.’“‘Oh, well,’ remarked Soongoora; ‘don’t put yourself out of the way about it.’“Then Soongoora waited many days, until the lion and the donkey were both well and strong, when he said: ‘What do you think now, Simba? Shall I bring you your meat?’“‘Ay,’ growled the lion, fiercely; ‘bring it to me. I’ll tear it in two pieces!’“So the hare went off to the forest, where the donkey welcomed him and asked the news.“‘You are invited to call again and see your lover,’ said Soongoora.“‘Oh, dear!’ cried Poonda; ‘that day you took me to him he scratched me awfully. I’m afraid to go near him now.’“‘Ah, pshaw!’ said Soongoora; ‘that’s nothing. That’s only Simba’s way of caressing.’“‘Oh, well,’ said the donkey, ‘let’s go.’“So off they started again; but as soon as the lion caught sight of Poonda he sprang upon her and tore her in two pieces.“When the hare came up, Simba said to him: ‘Take this meat and roast it. As for myself, all I want is the heart and ears.’“‘Thanks,’ said Soongoora. Then he went away and roasted the meat in a place where the lion could not see him, and he took the heart and ears and hid them. Then he ate all the meat he needed, and put the rest away.“Presently the lion came to him and said, ‘Bring me the heart and ears.’“‘Where are they?’ said the hare.“‘What does this mean?’ growled Simba.“‘Why, didn’t you know this was a washerman’s donkey?’“‘Well, what’s that to do with there being no heart or ears?’“‘For goodness’ sake, Simba, aren’t you old enough to know that if this beast had possessed a heart and ears it wouldn’t have come back the second time?’“Of course the lion had to admit that what Soongoora, the hare, said was true.“And now,” said Keema to the shark, “you want to make a washerman’s donkey of me. Get out of there, and go home by yourself. You are not going to get me again, and our friendship is ended. Good-bye, Papa.” 
The feeling recently created by an attempt to fasten the stupid names of Fairport or of North Elmira on the village in central New York that, off and on for fifty years, had been called Horseheads, caused an inquiry as to how that singular name chanced to be adopted for a settlement. In 1779, when General Sullivan was retiring toward the base of his supplies after a destructive campaign against the Indians in Genesee County, he stopped near this place and rested his troops. The country was then rude, unbroken, and still beset with enemies, however, and when the march was resumed it was thought best to gain time over a part of the way by descending the Chemung River on rafts.As there were no appliances for building large floats, and the depth of the water was not known, the general ordered a destruction of all impedimenta that could be got rid of, and commanded that the poor and superfluous horses should be killed. His order was obeyed. As soon as the troops had gone, the wolves, that were then abundant, came forth and devoured the carcasses of the steeds, so that the clean-picked bones were strewn widely over the camp-ground. When the Indians ventured back into this region, some of them piled the skulls of the horses into heaps, and these curious monuments were found by white settlers who came into the valley some years later, and who named their village Horseheads, in commemoration of these relics. The Indians were especially loath to leave this region, for their tradition was that it had been the land of the Senecas from immemorial time, the tribe being descended from a couple that had a home on a hill near Horseheads.
Once upon a time there lived a barber, who was such a poor silly creature that he couldn’t even ply his trade decently, but snipped off his customers’ ears instead of their hair, and cut their throats instead of shaving them. So of course he grew poorer every day, till at last he found himself with nothing left in his house but his wife and his razor, both of whom were as sharp as sharp could be.For his wife was an exceedingly clever person, who was continually rating her husband for his stupidity; and when she saw they hadn’t a farthing left, she fell as usual to scolding.But the barber took it very calmly. ‘What is the use of making such a fuss, my dear?’ said he; ‘you’ve told me all this before, and I quite agree with you. I never did work, I never could work, and I never will work.That is the fact!’‘Then you must beg!’ returned his wife, ‘for I will not starve to please you! Go to the palace, and beg something of the King. There is a wedding feast going on, and he is sure to give alms to the poor.’‘Very well, my dear!’ said the barber submissively. He was rather afraid of his clever wife, so he did as he was bid, and going to the palace, begged of the King to give him something.‘Something?’ asked the King; ‘what thing?’Now the barber’s wife had not mentioned anything in particular, and the barber was far too addle-pated to think of anything by himself, so he answered cautiously, ‘Oh, something!’‘Will a piece of land do?’ said the King.Whereupon the lazy barber, glad to be helped out of the difficulty, remarked that perhaps a piece of land would do as well as anything else.Then the King ordered a piece of waste, outside the city, should be given to the barber, who went home quite satisfied.‘Well! what did you get?’ asked the clever wife, who was waiting impatiently for his return. ‘Give it me quick, that I may go and buy bread!’And you may imagine how she scolded when she found he had only got a piece of waste land.‘But land is land!’ remonstrated the barber; ‘it can’t run away, so we must always have something now!’‘Was there ever such a dunderhead?’ raged the clever wife.’ What good is ground unless we can till it? and where are we to get bullocks and ploughs?’But being, as we have said, an exceedingly clever person, she set her wits to work, and soon thought of a plan whereby to make the best of a bad bargain.She took her husband with her, and set off to the piece of waste land; then, bidding her husband imitate her, she began walking about the field, and peering anxiously into the ground. But when any-* body came that way, she would sit down, and pretend to be doing nothing at all.Now it so happened that seven thieves were hiding in a thicket hard by, and they watched the barber and his wife all day, until they became convinced something mysterious was going on. So at sunset they sent one of their number to try and find out what it was.‘Well, the fact is,’ said the barber’s wife, after beating about the bush for some-time, and with many injunctions to strict secrecy, ‘this field belonged to my grandfather, who buried five pots full of gold in it, and we were just trying to discover the exact spot before beginning to dig. You won’t tell any one, will you?’The thief promised he wouldn’t, of course, but the moment the barber and his wife went home, he called his companions, and telling them of the hidden treasure, set them to work. All night long they dug and delved, till the field looked as if it had been ploughed seven times over, and they were as tired as tired could be; but never a gold piece, nor a silver piece, nor a farthing did they find, so when dawn came they went away disgusted.The barber’s wife, when she found the field so beautifully ploughed, laughed heartily at the success of her stratagem, and going to the corn-dealer’s shop, borrowed some rice to sow in the field. This the corn-dealer willingly gave her, for he reckoned he would get it back threefold at harvest time. And so he did, for never was there such a crop!—the barber’s wife paid her debts, kept enough for the house, and sold the rest for a great crock of gold pieces.Now, when the thieves saw this, they were very angry indeed, and going to the barber’s house, said, ‘Give us our share of the harvest, for we tilled the ground, as you very well know.’‘I told you there was gold in the ground,’ laughed the barber’s wife, ‘but you didn’t find it. I have, and there’s a crock full of it in the house, only you rascals shall never have a farthing of it!’‘Very well!’ said the thieves; ‘look out for yourself to-night. If you won’t give us our share we’ll take it!’So that night one of the thieves hid himself in the house, intending to open the door to his comrades when the housefolk were asleep; but the barber’s wife saw him with the corner of her eye, and determined to lead him a dance. Therefore, when her husband, who was in a dreadful state of alarm, asked her what she had done with the gold pieces, she replied, ‘Put them where no one will find them,—under the sweetmeats, in the crock that stands in the niche by the door.’The thief chuckled at hearing this, and after waiting till all was quiet, he crept out, and feeling about for the crock, made off with it, whispering to his comrades that he had got the prize. Fearing pursuit, they fled to a thicket, where they sat down to divide the spoil.‘She said there were sweetmeats on the top,’ said the thief; ‘I will divide them first, and then we can eat them, for it is hungry work, this waiting and watching.’So he divided what he thought were the sweetmeats as well as he could in the dark. Now in reality the crock was full of all sorts of horrible things that the barber’s wife had put there on purpose, and so when the thieves crammed its contents into their mouths, you may imagine what faces they made and how they vowed revenge.But when they returned next day to threaten and repeat their claim to a share of the crop, the barber’s wife only laughed at them.‘Have a care!’ they cried; ‘twice you have fooled us—once by making us dig all night, and next by feeding us on filth and breaking our caste. It will be our turn to-night!’Then another thief hid himself in the house, but the barber’s wife saw him with half an eye, and when her husband asked, ‘What have you done with the gold, my dear? I hope you haven’t put it under the pillow?’ she answered, ‘Don’t be alarmed; it is out of the house. I have hung it in the branches of the nîm tree outside. No one will think of looking for it there!’The hidden thief chuckled, and when the house-folk were asleep he slipped out and told his companions.‘Sure enough, there it is!’ cried the captain of the band, peering up into the branches. ‘One of you go up and fetch it down.’ Now what he saw was really a hornets’ nest, full of great big brown and yellow hornets.So one of the thieves climbed up the tree; but when he came close to the nest, and was just reaching up to take hold of it, a hornet flew out and stung him on the thigh. He immediately clapped his hand to the spot.‘Oh, you thief!’ cried out the rest from below, ‘you’re pocketing the gold pieces, are you? Oh! shabby! shabby!’—For you see it was very dark, and when the poor man clapped his hand to the place where he had been stung, they thought he was putting his hand in his pocket.‘I assure you I’m not doing anything of the kind!’ retorted the thief; ‘but there is something that bites in this tree!’Just at that moment another hornet stung him on the breast, and he clapped his hand there.‘Fie! fie for shame! We saw you do it that time!’ cried the rest.‘Just you stop that at once, or we will make you!’So they sent up another thief, but he fared no better, for by this time the hornets were thoroughly roused, and they stung the poor man all over, so that he kept clapping his hands here, there, and everywhere.‘Shame! Shabby! Ssh-sh!’ bawled the rest; and then one after another they climbed into the tree, determined to share the booty, and one after another began clapping their hands about their bodies, till it came to the captain’s turn. Then he, intent on having the prize, seized hold of the hornets’ nest, and as the branch on which they were all standing broke at the selfsame moment, they all came tumbling down with the hornets’ nest on top of them. And then, in spite of bumps and bruises, you can imagine what a stampede there was!After this the barber’s wife had some peace, for every one of the seven thieves was in hospital. In fact, they were laid up for so long a time that she began to think that they were never coming back again, and ceased to be on the look-out. But she was wrong, for one night, when she had left the window open, she was awakened by whisperings outside, and at once recognised the thieves’ voices. She gave herself up for lost; but, determined not to yield without a struggle, she seized her husband’s razor, crept to the side of the window, and stood quite still. By and by the first thief began to creep through cautiously. She just waited till the tip of his nose was visible, and then, flash!—she sliced it off with the razor as clean as a whistle.‘Confound it!’ yelled the thief, drawing back mighty quick; ‘I’ve cut my nose on something!’‘Hush-sh-sh-sh!’ whispered the others, ‘you’ll wake some one. Go on!’‘Not I!’ said the thief; ‘I’m bleeding like a pig!’‘Pooh!—knocked your nose against the shutter, I suppose,’ returned the second thief. ‘I’ll go!’But, swish!—off went the tip of his nose too.‘Dear me!’ said he ruefully, ‘there certainly is something sharp inside!’‘A bit of bamboo in the lattice, most likely,’ remarked the third thief. ‘I’ll go!’And, flick!—off went his nose too.‘It is most extraordinary!’ he exclaimed, hurriedly retiring; ‘I feel exactly as if some one had cut the tip of my nose off!’‘Rubbish!’ said the fourth thief. ‘What cowards you all are! Let me go!’But he fared no better, nor the fifth thief, nor the sixth.‘My friends!’. said the captain, when it came to his turn, ‘you are all disabled. One man must remain unhurt to protect the wounded. Let us return another night.’—He was a cautious man, you see, and valued his nose.So they crept away sulkily, and the barber’s wife lit a lamp, and gathering up all the nose tips, put them away safely in a little box.Now before the robbers’ noses were healed over, the hot weather set in, and the barber and his wife, finding it warm sleeping in the house, put their beds outside; for they made sure the thieves would not return. But they did, and seizing such a good opportunity for revenge, they lifted up the wife’s bed, and carried her off fast asleep. She woke to find herself borne along on the heads of four of the thieves, whilst the other three ran beside her. She gave herself up for lost, and though she thought, and thought, and thought, she could find no way of escape; till, as luck would have it, the robbers paused to take breath under a banyan tree. Quick as lightning, she seized hold of a branch that was within reach, and swung herself into the tree, leaving her quilt on the bed just as if she were still in it.‘Let us rest a bit here,’ said the thieves who were carrying the bed; ‘there is plenty of time, and we are tired. She is dreadfully heavy!’The barber’s wife could hardly help laughing, but she had to keep very still, for it was a bright moonlight night; and the robbers, after setting down their burden, began to squabble as to who should take first watch.At last they determined that it should be the captain, for the others had really barely recovered from the shock of having their noses sliced off; so they lay down to sleep, while the captain walked up and down, watching the bed, and the barber’s wife sat perched up in the tree like a great bird.Suddenly an idea came into her head, and drawing her white veil becomingly over her face, she began to sing softly. The robber captain looked up, and saw the veiled figure of a woman in the tree. Of course he was a little surprised, but being a goodlooking young fellow, and rather vain of his appearance, he jumped at once to the conclusion that it was a fairy who had fallen in love with his handsome face. For fairies do such things sometimes, especially on moonlight nights. So he twirled his moustaches, and strutted about, waiting for her to speak. But when she went on singing, and took no notice of him, he stopped and called out, ‘Come down, my beauty! I won’t hurt you!’But still she went on singing; so he climbed up into the tree, determined to attract her attention. When he came quite close, she turned away her head and sighed.‘What is the matter, my beauty?’ he asked tenderly. ‘Of course you are a fairy, and have fallen in love with me, but there is nothing to sigh at in that, surely?’‘Ah—ah—ah!’ said the barber’s wife, with another sigh, ‘I believe you’re fickle! Men with long-pointed noses always are!’But the robber captain swore he was the most constant of men; yet still the fairy sighed and sighed, until he almost wished his nose had been shortened too.‘You are telling stories, I am sure!’ said the pre* tended fairy. ‘Just let me touch your tongue with the tip of mine, and then I shall be able to taste if there are fibs about!’So the robber captain put out his tongue, and, snip!—the barber’s wife bit the tip off clean!What with the fright and the pain, he tumbled off the branch, and fell bump on the ground, where he sat with his legs very wide apart, looking as if he had come from the skies.‘What is the matter?’ cried his comrades, awakened by the noise of his fall.‘Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!’ answered he, pointing up into the tree; for of course he could not speak plainly without the tip of his tongue.‘What—is—the—matter?’ they bawled in his ear, as if that would do any good.‘Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!’ said he, still pointing upwards.‘The man is bewitched!’ cried one; ‘there must be a ghost in the tree!’Just then the barber’s wife began flapping her veil and howling; whereupon, without waiting to look, the thieves in a terrible fright set off at a run, dragging their leader with them; and the barber’s wife, coming down from the tree, put her bed on her head, and walked quietly home.After this, the thieves came to the conclusion that it was no use trying to gain their point by force, so they went to law to claim their share. But the barber’s wife pleaded her own cause so well, bringing out the nose and tongue tips as witnesses, that the King made the barber his Wazîr, saying, ‘He will never do a foolish thing as long as his wife is alive!’
Little Good Boy had just finished eating the last of five rice cakes called “dango,” that had been strung on a skewer of bamboo and dipped in soy sauce, when he said to his little sister, called Chrysanthemum:—“O-Kiku, it is soon the great festival of the New Year.”“What shall we do then?” asked little O-Kiku, not clearly remembering the festival of the previous year.Thus questioned, Yoshi-san had his desired opening to hold forth on the coming delights, and he replied:—“Men will come the evening before the great feast-day and help Plum-blossom, our maid, to clean all the house with brush and broom. Others will set up the decoration in front of our honored gateway. They will dig two small holes and plant a gnarled, black-barked father-pine branch on the left, and the slighter reddish mother-pine branch on the right. They will then put with these the tall knotted stem of a bamboo, with its smooth, hard green leaves that chatter when the wind blows. Next they will take a grass rope, about as long as a tall man, fringed with grass, and decorated with zigzag strips of white paper. These, our noble father says, are meant for rude images of men offering themselves in homage to the august gods.”“Oh, yes! I have not forgotten,” interrupts Chrysanthemum, “this cord is stretched from bamboo to bamboo; and Plum-blossom says the rope is to bar out the nasty two-toed, red, gray, and black demons, the badgers, the foxes, and other evil spirits from crossing our threshold. But I think it is the next part of the arch which is the prettiest, the whole bunch of things they tie in the middle of the rope. There is the crooked-back lobster, like a bowed old man, with all around the camellia branches, whose young leaves bud before the old leaves fall. There are pretty fern leaves shooting forth in pairs, and deep down between them the little baby fern-leaf. There is the bitter yellow orange, whose name, you know, means ‘many parents and children.’ The name of the black piece of charcoal is a pun on our homestead.”“But best of all,” says Yoshi-san, “I like the seaweed hontawara, for it tells me of our brave Queen Jingu Kogo, who, lest the troops should be discouraged, concealed from the army that her husband the king had died, put on armor, and led the great campaign against Korea. Her troops, stationed at the margin of the sea, were in danger of defeat on account of the lack of fodder for their horses; when she ordered this hontawara to be plucked from the shore, and the horses, freshened by their meal of seaweed, rushed victoriously to battle. On the bronzed clasp of our worthy father’s tobacco-pouch is, our noble father says, the Queen with her sword and the dear little baby prince, Hachiman, who was born after the campaign, and who is now our Warrior God, guiding our troops to victory, and that spirit on whose head squats a dragon has risen partly from the deep, to present an offering to the Queen and the Prince.”“Then there is another seaweed, whose name is a pun on ‘rejoicing.’ There is the lucky bag that I made, for last year, of a square piece of paper into which we put chestnuts and the roe of a herring and dried persimmon fruit. Then I tied up the paper with red and white paper-string, that the sainted gods might know it was an offering.”“Bronze fishes sitting on their throats.”Yoshi-san and his little sister had now reached the great gate ornamented with huge bronze fishes sitting on their throats and twisting aloft their forked tails, that was near their home. He told his sister she must wait to know more about the great festival till the time arrived. They shuffled off their shoes, bowed, till their foreheads touched the ground, to their parents, ate their evening bowl of rice and salt fish, said a prayer and burnt a stick of incense to many-armed Buddha at the family altar. They spread their cotton-wadded quilts, rested their dear little shaved heads, with quaint circlet of hair, on the roll of cotton covered with white paper that formed the cushion of their hard wooden pillows. Soon they fell asleep to their mother’s monotonously chanted lullaby of “Nenné ko.”“Sleep, my child, sleep, my child,Where is thy nurse gone?She is gone to the mountainsTo buy thee sweetmeats.What shall she buy thee?The thundering drum, the bamboo pipe,The trundling man, or the paper kite.”The great festival drew still nearer, to the children’s delight, as they watched the previously described graceful bamboo arch rise before their gateposts. Then came a party of three with an oven, a bottomless tub, and some matting to replace the bottom. They shifted the pole that carried these utensils from their shoulders, and commenced to make the Japanese cake that may be viewed as the equivalent of a Christmas pudding. They mixed a paste of rice and put the sticky mass, to prevent rebounding, on the soft mat in the tub. The third man then beat for a long time the rice cake with a heavy mallet. Yoshi-san liked to watch the strong man swing down his mallet with dull resounding thuds. The well-beaten dough was then made up into flattish rounds of varying size on a pastry board one of the men had brought. Three cakes of graduated size formed a pyramid that was placed conspicuously on a lacquered stand, and the cakes were only to be eaten on the 11th of January.The mother told Plum-blossom and the children to get their clogs and overcoats and hoods, for she was going to get the New Year’s decorations. The party shuffled off till they came to a stall where were big grass ropes and fringes and quaint grass boats filled with supposed bales of merchandise in straw coverings, a sun in red paper, and at bow and stern sprigs of fir. The whole was brightened by bits of gold leaf, lightly stuck on, that quivered here and there. When the children had chosen the harvest ship that seemed most besprinkled with gold, Plum-blossom bargained about the price. The mother, as a matter of form and rank, had pretended to take no interest in the purchase. She took her purse out of her sash, handed it to her servant, who opened it, paid the shopman, and then returned the purse to her mistress. This she did with the usual civility of first raising it to her forehead. The decorations they hung up in their sitting-room. Then they sent presents, such as large dried carp, tea, eggs, shoes, kerchiefs, fruits, sweets, or toys to various friends and dependants.On the 1st of January all were early astir, for the father, dressed at dawn in full European evening dress, as is customary on such occasions, had to pay his respects at the levee of the Emperor. When this duty was over, he returned home and received visitors of rank inferior to himself. Later in the day and on the following day he paid visits of New Year greeting to all his friends. He took a present to those to whom he had sent no gift. Sometimes he had his little boy with him. For these visits Yoshi-san, in place of his usual flowing robe, loose trousers, and sash, wore a funny little knickerbocker suit, felt hat, and boots. These latter, though he thought them grand, felt very uncomfortable after his straw sandals. They were more troublesome to take off before stepping on the straw mats, that, being used as chairs as well as carpets, it would be a rudeness to soil. The maids, always kneeling, presented them with tiny cups of tea on oval saucers, which, remaining in the maid’s hand, served rather as waiters. Sweetmeats, too, usually of a soft, sticky nature, but sometimes hard like sugar-plums, and called “fire-sweets,” were offered on carved lotus-leaf or lacquered trays.For the 2nd of January Plum-blossom bought some pictures of the treasure-ship or ship of riches, in which were seated the seven Gods of Wealth. It has been sung thus about this Ship of Luck:—“Nagaki yo no, It is a long night.To no numuri no. The gods of luck sleep.Mina mé samé. They all open their eyes.Nami nori funé no. They ride in a boat on the waves.Oto no yoki kana.” The sound is pleasing!These pictures they each tied on their pillow to bring lucky dreams. Great was the laughter in the morning when they related their dreams. Yoshi-san said he had dreamt he had a beautiful portmanteau full of nice foreign things, such as comforters, note-books, pencils, india-rubber, condensed milk, lama, wide-awakes, boots, and brass jewelry. Just as he opened it, everything vanished and he found only a torn fan, an odd chop-stick, a horse’s cast straw shoe, and a live crow.When at home, the children, for the first few days of the New Year, dressed in their best crepe, made up in three silken-wadded layers. Their crest was embroidered on the centre of the back and on the sleeves of the quaintly flowered long upper skirt. Beneath its wadded hem peeped the scarlet rolls of the hems of their under-dresses, and then the white-stockinged feet, with, passing between the toes, the scarlet thong of the black-lacquered clog. The little girl’s sash was of many-flowered brocade, with scarlet broidered pouch hanging at her right side. A scarlet over-sash kept the large sash-knot in its place. Her hair was gay with knot of scarlet crinkled crepe, lacquered comb, and hairpin of tiny golden battledore. Resting thereon were a shuttlecock of coral, another pin of a tiny red lobster and a green pine sprig made of silk. In her belt was coquettishly stuck the butterfly-broidered case that held her quire of paper pocket-handkerchiefs. The brother’s dress was of a simpler style and soberer coloring. His pouch of purple had a dragon worked on it, and the hair of his partly shaven head was tied into a little gummed tail with white paper-string. They spent most of the day playing with their pretty new battledores, striking with its plain side the airy little shuttlecock whose head is made of a black seed. All the while they sang a rhyme on the numbers up to ten:—“Hitogo ni futa-go—mi-watashi yo me-go,Itsu yoni musashi nan no yakushi,Kokono-ya ja—to yo.”When tired of this fun, they would play with a ball made of paper and wadding evenly wound about with thread or silk of various colors. They sang to the throws a song which seems abrupt because some portions have probably fallen into disuse; it runs thus:—“See opposite—see Shin-kawa! A very beautiful lady who is one of the daughters of a chief magistrate of Odawara-cho. She was married to a salt merchant. He was a man fond of display, and he thought how he would dress her this year. He said to the dyer, ‘Please dye this brocade and the brocade for the middle dress into seven-or eight-fold dresses;’ and the dyer said, ‘I am a dyer, and therefore I will dye and stretch it. What pattern do you wish?’ The merchant replied, ‘The pattern of falling snow and broken twigs, and in the centre the curved bridge of Gojo.'”Then to fill up the rhyme come the words, “Chokin, chokera, kokin, kokera,” and the tale goes on: “Crossing this bridge the girl was struck here and there, and the tea-house girls laughed. Put out of countenance by this ridicule, she drowned herself in the river Karas, the body sunk, the hair floated. How full of grief the husband’s heart—now the ball counts a hundred.”This they varied with another song:—“One, two, three, four,Grate hard charcoal, shave kiri wood;Put in the pocket, the pocket is wet,Kiyomadzu, on three yenoki treesWere three sparrows, chased by a pigeon.The sparrows said, ‘Chiu, chiu,’The pigeon said, ‘po, po,’—now theBall counts a hundred.”The pocket referred to means the bottom of the long sleeve, which is apt to trail and get wet when a child stoops at play. Kiyomadzu may mean a famous temple that bears that name. Sometimes they would simply count the turns and make a sort of game of forfeiting and returning the number of rebounds kept up by each.Yoshi-san had begun to think battledore and balls too girlish an amusement. He preferred flying his eagle or mask-like kite, or playing at cards, verses, or lotteries. Sometimes he played a lively game with his father, in which the board is divided into squares and diagonals. On these move sixteen men held by one player and one large piece held by the second player. The point of the game is either that the holder of the sixteen pieces hedges the large piece so it that can make no move, or that the big piece takes all its adversaries. A take can only be made by the large piece when it finds a piece immediately on each side of it and a blank point beyond. Or he watched a party of several, with the pictured sheet of Japanese backgammon before them, write their names on slips of paper or wood, and throw in turn a die. The slips are placed on the pictures whose numbers correspond with the throw. At the next round, if the number thrown by the particular player is written on the picture, he finds directions as to which picture to move his slip backward or forward to. He may, however, find his throw a blank and have to remain at his place. The winning consists in reaching a certain picture. When tired of these quieter games, the strolling woman player on a guitar-like instrument, would be called in. Or, a party of Kangura boy performers afforded pastime by the quaint animal-like movements of the draped figure. He wears a huge grotesque scarlet mask on his head, and at times makes this monster appear to stretch out and draw in its neck by an unseen change in position of the mask from the head to the gradually extended and draped hand of the actor. The beat of a drum and the whistle of a bamboo flute formed the accompaniment to the dumb-show acting.Yoshi-san thought the 4th and 5th days of January great fun, because loud shoutings were heard. Running in the direction of the sound, he found the men of a fire-brigade who had formed a procession to carry their new paper standard, bamboo ladders, paper lanterns, etc. This procession paused at intervals. Then the men steadied the ladder with their long fire-hooks, whilst an agile member of the band mounted the erect ladder and performed gymnastics at the top. His performance concluded, he dismounted, and the march continued, the men as before yelling joyously, at the highest pitch of their voices.After about a week of fun, life at the villa, gradually resumed its usual course, the father returned to his office, the mother to her domestic employments, and the children to school, all having said for that new year their last joy-wishing greeting—omédéto (congratulations).
Lapluck and Cæsar brothers were, descendedFrom dogs by Fame the most commended,Who falling, in their puppyhood,To different masters anciently,One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood;From thieves the other kept a kitchen free.At first, each had another name;But, by their bringing up, it came,While one improved upon his nature,The other grew a sordid creature,Till, by some scullion called Lapluck,The name ungracious ever stuck.To high exploits his brother grew,Put many a stag at bay, and toreFull many a trophy from the boar;In short, him first, of all his crew,The world as Cæsar knew;And care was had, lest, by a baser mate,His noble blood should e’er degenerate.Not so with him of lower station,Whose race became a countless nation—The common turnspits throughout France—Where danger is, they don’t advance—Precisely the AntipodesOf what we call the Cæsars, these!Oft falls the son below his sire’s estate:Through want of care all things degenerate.For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts,What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts!
Once upon a time, and a long long time ago it was, there lived a widow who had a very pretty daughter. The mother, good honest woman, was quite content with her station in life. But with the daughter it was otherwise; she, like a spoilt beauty, looked contemptuously upon her many admirers, her mind was full of proud and ambitious thoughts, and the more lovers she had, the prouder she became.One beautiful moonlight night the mother awoke, and being unable to sleep, began to pray God for the happiness of her only child, though she often made her mother’s life miserable. The fond woman looked lovingly at the beautiful daughter sleeping by her side, and she wondered, as she saw her smile, what happy dream had visited her. Then she finished her prayer, and laying her head on the girl’s pillow, fell asleep. Next day she said, “Come, darling child, tell me what you were dreaming about last night, you looked so happy smiling in your sleep.”“Oh yes, mother, I remember. I had a very beautiful dream. I thought a rich nobleman came to our house, in a splendid carriage of brass, and gave me a ring set with stones, that sparkled like the stars of heaven. When I entered the church with him, it was full of people, and they all thought me divine and adorable, like the Blessed Virgin.”“Ah! my child, what sin! May God keep you from such dreams.”But the daughter ran away singing, and busied herself about the house. The same day a handsome young farmer drove into the village in his cart and begged them to come and share his country bread. He was a kind fellow, and the mother liked him much. But the daughter refused his invitation, and insulted him into the bargain.“Even if you had driven in a carriage of brass,” she said, “and had offered me a ring set with stones shining as the stars in heaven, I would never have married you—you, a mere peasant!”The young farmer was terribly upset at her words, and with a prayer for her soul, returned home a saddened man. But her mother scolded and reproached her.The next night the woman again awoke, and taking her rosary prayed with still greater fervour, that God would bless her child. This time the girl laughed as she slept.“What can the poor child be dreaming about?” she said to herself: and sighing she prayed for her again. Then she laid her head upon her pillow and tried in vain to sleep. In the morning, when her daughter was dressing, she said: “Well, my dear, you were dreaming again last night, and laughing like a maniac.”“Was I? Listen, I dreamt a nobleman came for me in a silver carriage, and gave me a golden diadem. When I entered the church with him, the people admired and worshipped me more than the Blessed Virgin.”“Ay me, what a terrible dream! what a wicked dream! Pray God not to lead you into temptation.”Then she scolded her daughter severely and went out, slamming the door after her. That same day a carriage drove into the village, and some gentlemen invited mother and daughter to share the bread of the lord of the manor. The mother considered such an offer a great honour, but the daughter refused it and replied to the gentlemen scornfully: “Even if you had come to fetch me in a carriage of solid silver and had presented me with a golden diadem, I would never have consented to be the wife of your lord.”The gentlemen turned away in disgust and returned home; the mother rebuked her severely for so much pride.“Miserable, foolish girl!” she cried, “pride is a breath from hell. It is your duty to be humble, honest, and sweet-tempered.”The daughter replied by a laugh.The third night she slept soundly, but the poor woman at her side could not close her eyes. Tormented with dark forebodings, she feared some misfortune was about to happen, and counted her beads, praying fervently. All at once the young sleeper began to sneer and laugh.“Merciful God! ah me!” cried the poor woman, “what are these dreams that worry her poor brain!”In the morning she said, “What made you sneer so frightfully last night? You must have had bad dreams again, my poor child.”“Now, mother, you look as if you were going to preach again.”“No, no; but I want to know what you were dreaming about.”“Well, I dreamt some one drove up in a golden carriage and asked me to marry him, and he brought me a mantle of cloth of pure gold. When we came into church, the crowd pressed forward to kneel before me.”The mother wrung her hands piteously, and the girl left the room to avoid hearing her lamentations. That same day three carriages entered the yard, one of brass, one of silver, and one of gold. The first was drawn by two, the second by three, the third by four magnificent horses. Gentlemen wearing scarlet gloves and green mantles got out of the brass and silver carriages, while from the golden carriage alighted a prince who, as the sun shone on him, looked as if he were dressed in gold. They all made their way to the widow and asked for her daughter’s hand.“I fear we are not worthy of so much honour,” replied the widow meekly, but when the daughter’s eyes fell upon her suitor she recognised in him the lover of her dreams, and withdrew to weave an aigrette of many-coloured feathers. In exchange for this aigrette which she offered her bridegroom, he placed upon her finger a ring set with stones that shone like the stars in heaven, and over her shoulders a mantle of cloth of gold. The young bride, beside herself with joy, retired to complete her toilette. Meanwhile the anxious mother, a prey to the blackest forebodings, said to her son-in-law, “My daughter has consented to share your bread, tell me of what sort of flour it is made?”“In our house we have bread of brass, of silver, and of gold; my wife will be free to choose.”Such a reply astonished her more than ever, and made her still more unhappy. The daughter asked no questions, was in fact content to know nothing, not even what her mother suffered. She looked magnificent in her bridal attire and golden mantle, but she left her home with the prince without saying good-bye either to her mother or to her youthful companions. Neither did she ask her mother’s blessing, though the latter wept and prayed for her safety.After the marriage ceremony they mounted the golden carriage and set off, followed by the attendants of silver and brass. The procession moved slowly along the road without stopping until it reached the foot of a high rock. Here, instead of a carriage entrance, was a large cavern which led out into a steep slope down which the horses went lower and lower. The giant Zémo-tras (he who makes the earthquakes) closed the opening with a huge stone. They made their way in darkness for some time, the terrified bride being reassured by her husband.“Fear nothing,” said he, “in a little while it will be clear and beautiful.”Grotesque dwarfs, carrying lighted torches, appeared on all sides, saluted and welcomed their King Kovlad as they illumined the road for him and his attendants. Then for the first time the girl knew she had married Kovlad, but this mattered little to her. On coming out from these gloomy passages into the open they found themselves surrounded by large forests and mountains, mountains that seemed to touch the sky. And, strange to relate, all the trees of whatsoever kind, and even the mountains that seemed to touch the sky, were of solid lead. When they had crossed these marvellous mountains the giant Zémo-tras closed all the openings in the road they had passed. They then drove out upon vast and beautiful plains, in the centre of which was a golden palace covered with precious stones. The bride was weary with looking at so many wonders, and gladly sat down to the feast prepared by the dwarfs. Meats of many kinds were served, roast and boiled, but lo! they were of metal—brass, silver, and gold. Every one ate heartily and enjoyed the food, but the young wife, with tears in her eyes, begged for a piece of bread.“Certainly, madam, with pleasure,” answered Kovlad. But she could not eat the bread which was brought, for it was of brass. Then the king sent for a piece of silver bread, still she could not eat it; and again for a slice of golden bread, that too she was unable to bite. The servants did all they could to get something to their mistress’s taste, but she found it impossible to eat anything.“I should be most happy to gratify you,” said Kovlad “but we have no other kind of food.”Then she realised for the first time in whose power she had placed herself, and she began to weep bitterly and wish she had taken her mother’s advice.“It is of no use to weep and regret,” said Kovlad, “you must have known the kind of bread you would have to break here; your wish has been fulfilled.”And so it was, for nothing can recall the past. The wretched girl was obliged henceforth to live underground with her husband Kovlad, the God of Metals, in his golden palace. And this because she had set her heart upon nothing but the possession of gold, and had never wished for anything better.
A Fox after crossing a river got its tail entangled in a bush, and could not move. A number of Mosquitoes seeing its plight settled upon it and enjoyed a good meal undisturbed by its tail. A hedgehog strolling by took pity upon the Fox and went up to him: “You are in a bad way, neighbor,” said the hedgehog; “shall I relieve you by driving off those Mosquitoes who are sucking your blood?” “Thank you, Master Hedgehog,” said the Fox, “but I would rather not.” “Why, how is that?” asked the hedgehog. “Well, you see,” was the answer, “these Mosquitoes have had their fill; if you drive these away, others will come with fresh appetite and bleed me to death.”
In a certain village there once lived a man and his wife, and the wife was so idle that she would never work at anything; whatever her husband gave her to spin, she did not get done, and what she did spin she did not wind, but let it all remain entangled in a heap. If the man scolded her, she was always ready with her tongue, and said, “Well, how should I wind it, when I have no reel? Just you go into the forest and get me one.” “If that is all,” said the man, “then I will go into the forest, and get some wood for making reels.” Then the woman was afraid that if he had the wood he would make her a reel of it, and she would have to wind her yarn off, and then begin to spin again. She bethought herself a little, and then a lucky idea occurred to her, and she secretly followed the man into the forest, and when he had climbed into a tree to choose and cut the wood, she crept into the thicket below where he could not see her, and cried,“He who cuts wood for reels shall die,And he who winds, shall perish.”The man listened, laid down his axe for a moment, and began to consider what that could mean. “Hollo,” he said at last, “what can that have been; my ears must have been singing, I won’t alarm myself for nothing.” So he again seized the axe, and began to hew, then again there came a cry from below:“He who cuts wood for reels shall die,And he who winds shall perish.”He stopped, and felt afraid and alarmed, and pondered over the circumstance. But when a few moments had passed, he took heart again, and a third time he stretched out his hand for the axe, and began to cut. But some one called out a third time, and said loudly,“He who cuts wood for reels shall die,And he who winds, shall perish.”That was enough for him, and all inclination had departed from him, so he hastily descended the tree, and set out on his way home. The woman ran as fast as she could by by-ways so as to get home first. So when he entered the parlour, she put on an innocent look as if nothing had happened, and said, “Well, have you brought a nice piece of wood for reels?”“No,” said he, “I see very well that winding won’t do,” and told her what had happened to him in the forest, and from that time forth left her in peace about it. Nevertheless after some time, the man again began to complain of the disorder in the house. “Wife,” said he, “it is really a shame that the spun yarn should lie there all entangled!” “I’ll tell you what,” said she, “as we still don’t come by any reel, go you up into the loft, and I will stand down below, and will throw the yarn up to you, and you will throw it down to me, and so we shall get a skein after all.” “Yes, that will do,” said the man. So they did that, and when it was done, he said, “The yarn is in skeins, now it must be boiled.” The woman was again distressed; She certainly said, “Yes, we will boil it next morning early,” but she was secretly contriving another trick.Early in the morning she got up, lighted a fire, and put the kettle on, only instead of the yarn, she put in a lump of tow, and let it boil. After that she went to the man who was still lying in bed, and said to him, “I must just go out, you must get up and look after the yarn which is in the kettle on the fire, but you must be at hand at once; mind that, for if the cock should happen to crow, and you are not attending to the yarn, it will become tow.” The man was willing and took good care not to loiter. He got up as quickly as he could, and went into the kitchen. But when he reached the kettle and peeped in, he saw, to his horror nothing but a lump of tow. Then the poor man was as still as a mouse, thinking he had neglected it, and was to blame, and in future said no more about yarn and spinning. But you yourself must own she was an odious woman!
The name of Heartbreak Hill pertains, in the earliest records of Ipswich, to an eminence in the middle of that town on which there was a large Indian settlement, called Agawam, before the white men settled there and drove the inhabitants out. Ere the English colony had been firmly planted a sailor straying ashore came among the simple natives of Agawam, and finding their ways full of novelty he lived with them for a time. When he found means to return to England he took with him the love of a maiden of the tribe, but the girl herself he left behind, comforting her on his departure with an assurance that before many moons he would return. Months went by and extended into years, and every day the girl climbed Heartbreak Hill to look seaward for some token of her lover. At last a ship was seen trying to make harbor, with a furious gale running her close to shore, where breakers were lashing the rocks and sand. The girl kept her station until the vessel, becoming unmanageable, was hurled against the shore and smashed into a thousand pieces. As its timbers went tossing away on the frothing billows a white, despairing face was lifted to hers for an instant; then it sank and was seen nevermore—her lover’s face. The “dusky Ariadne” wasted fast from that day, and she lies buried beside the ledge that was her watch-tower.
Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who longed to have a son. As none came, one day they made a vow at the shrine of St. James that if their prayers were granted the boy should set out on a pilgrimage as soon as he had passed his eighteenth birthday. And fancy their delight when one evening the king returned home from hunting and saw a baby lying in the cradle.All the people came crowding round to peep at it, and declared it was the most beautiful baby that ever was seen. Of course that is what they always say, but this time it happened to be true. And every day the boy grew bigger and stronger till he was twelve years old, when the king died, and he was left alone to take care of his mother.In this way six years passed by, and his eighteenth birthday drew near. When she thought of this the queen’s heart sank within her, for he was the light of her eyes’ and how was she to send him forth to the unknown dangers that beset a pilgrim? So day by day she grew more and more sorrowful, and when she was alone wept bitterly.Now the queen imagined that no one but herself knew how sad she was, but one morning her son said to her, ‘Mother, why do you cry the whole day long?’‘Nothing, nothing, my son; there is only one thing in the world that troubles me.’‘What is that one thing?’ asked he. ‘Are you afraid your property is badly managed? Let me go and look into the matter.’This pleased the queen, and he rode off to the plain country, where his mother owned great estates; but everything was in beautiful order, and he returned with a joyful heart, and said, ‘Now, mother, you can be happy again, for your lands are better managed than anyone else’s I have seen. The cattle are thriving; the fields are thick with corn, and soon they will be ripe for harvest.’‘That is good news indeed,’ answered she; but it did not seem to make any difference to her, and the next morning she was weeping and wailing as loudly as ever.‘Dear mother,’ said her son in despair, ‘if you will not tell me what is the cause of all this misery I shall leave home and wander far through the world.’‘Ah, my son, my son,’ cried the queen, ‘it is the thought that I must part from you which causes me such grief; for before you were born we vowed a vow to St. James that when your eighteenth birthday was passed you should make a pilgrimage to his shrine, and very soon you will be eighteen, and I shall lose you. And for a whole year my eyes will never be gladdened by the sight of you, for the shrine is far away.’‘Will it take no longer than that to reach it?’ said he. ‘Oh, don’t be so wretched; it is only dead people who never return. As long as I am alive you may be sure I will come back to you.’After this manner he comforted his mother, and on his eighteenth birthday his best horse was led to the door of the palace, and he took leave of the queen in these words, ‘Dear mother, farewell, and by the help of fate I shall return to you as soon as I can.’The queen burst into tears and wept sore; then amidst her sobs she drew three apples from her pocket and held them out, saying, ‘My son, take these apples and give heed unto my words. You will need a companion in the long journey on which you are going. If you come across a young man who pleases you beg him to accompany you, and when you get to an inn invite him to have dinner with you. After you have eaten cut one of these apples in two unequal parts, and ask him to take one. If he takes the larger bit, then part from him, for he is no true friend to you. But if he takes the smaller bit treat him as your brother, and share with him all you have.’ Then she kissed her son once more, and blessed him, and let him go.The young man rode a long way without meeting a single creature, but at last he saw a youth in the distance about the same age as himself, and he spurred his horse till he came up with the stranger, who stopped and asked:‘Where are you going, my fine fellow?’‘I am making a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James, for before I was born my mother vowed that I should go forth with a thank offering on my eighteenth birthday.’‘That is my case too,’ said the stranger, ‘and, as we must both travel in the same direction, let us bear each other company.’The young man agreed to this proposal, but he took care not to get on terms of familiarity with the new comer until he had tried him with the apple.By-and-by they reached an inn, and at sight of it the king’s son said, ‘I am very hungry. Let us enter and order something to eat.’ The other consented, and they were soon sitting before a good dinner.When they had finished the king’s son drew an apple from his pocket, and cut it into a big half and a little half, and offered both to the stranger, who took the biggest bit. ‘You are no friend of mine,’ thought the king’s son, and in order to part company with him he pretended to be ill and declared himself unable to proceed on his journey.‘Well, I can’t wait for you,’ replied the other; ‘I am in haste to push on, so farewell.’‘Farewell,’ said the king’s son, glad in his heart to get rid of him so easily. The king’s son remained in the inn for some time, so as to let the young man have a good start; them he ordered his horse and rode after him. But he was very sociable and the way seemed long and dull by himself. ‘Oh, if I could only meet with a true friend,’ he thought, ‘so that I should have some one to speak to. I hate being alone.’Soon after he came up with a young man, who stopped and asked him, ‘Where are you going, my fine fellow?’ The king’s son explained the object of his journey, and the young man answered, as the other had done, that he also was fulfilling the vow of his mother made at his birth.‘Well, we can ride on together,’ said the king’s son, and the road seemed much shorter now that he had some one to talk to.At length they reached an inn, and the king’s son exclaimed, ‘I am very hungry; let us go in and get something to eat.’When they had finished the king’s son drew an apple out of his pocket and cut it in two; he held the big bit and the little bit out to his companion, who took the big bit at once and soon ate it up. ‘You are no friend of mine,’ thought the king’s son, and began to declare he felt so ill he could not continue his journey. When he had given the young man a good start he set off himself, but the way seemed even longer and duller than before. ‘Oh, if I could only meet with a true friend he should be as a brother to me,’ he sighed sadly; and as the thought passed through his mind, he noticed a youth going the same road as himself.The youth came up to him and said, ‘Which way are you going, my fine fellow?’ And for the third time the king’s son explained all about his mother’s vow. Why, that is just like me,’ cried the youth.‘Then let us ride on together,’ answered the king’s son.Now the miles seemed to slip by, for the new comer was so lively and entertaining that the king’s son could not help hoping that he indeed might prove to be the true friend.More quickly than he could have thought possible they reached an inn by the road-side, and turning to his companion the king’s son said, ‘I am hungry; let us go in and have something to eat.’ So they went in and ordered dinner, and when they had finished the king’s son drew out of his pocket the last apple, and cut it into two unequal parts, and held both out to the stranger. And the stranger took the little piece, and the heart of the king’s son was glad within him, for at last he had found the friend he had been looking for. ‘Good youth,’ he cried, ‘we will be brothers, and what is mine shall be thine, and what is thine shall be mine. And together we will push on to the shrine, and if one of us dies on the road the other shall carry his body there.’ And the stranger agreed to all he said, and they rode forward together.It took them a whole year to reach the shrine, and they passed through many different lands on their way. One day they arrived tired and half-starved in a big city, and said to one another, ‘Let us stay here for a little and rest before we set forth again.’ So they hired a small house close to the royal castle, and took up their abode there.The following morning the king of the country happened to step on to his balcony, and saw the young men in the garden, and said to himself, ‘Dear me, those are wonderfully handsome youths; but one is handsomer than the other, and to him will I give my daughter to wife;’ and indeed the king’s son excelled his friend in beauty.In order to set about his plan the king asked both the young men to dinner, and when they arrived at the castle he received them with the utmost kindness, and sent for his daughter, who was more lovely than both the sun and moon put together. But at bed-time the king caused the other young man to be given a poisoned drink, which killed him in a few minutes, for he thought to himself, ‘If his friend dies the other will forget his pilgrimage, and will stay here and marry my daughter.’When the king’s son awoke the next morning he inquired of the servants where his friend had gone, as he did not see him. ‘He died suddenly last night,’ said they, ‘and is to be buried immediately.’But the king’s son sprang up, and cried, ‘If my friend is dead I can stay here no longer, and cannot linger an hour in this house.’‘Oh, give up your journey and remain here,’ exclaimed the king, ‘and you shall have my daughter for your wife.’ ‘No,’ answered the king’s son, ‘I cannot stay; but, I pray you, grant my request, and give me a good horse, and let me go in peace, and when I have fulfilled my vow then I will return and marry your daughter.’So the king, seeing no words would move him, ordered a horse to be brought round, and the king’s son mounted it, and took his dead friend before him on the saddle, and rode away.Now the young man was not really dead, but only in a deep sleep.When the king’s son reached the shrine of St. James he got down from his horse, took his friend in his arms as if he had been a child, and laid him before the altar. ‘St. James,’ he said, ‘I have fulfilled the vow my parents made for me. I have come myself to your shrine, and have brought my friend. I place him in your hands. Restore him to life, I pray, for though he be dead yet has he fulfilled his vow also.’ And, behold! while he yet prayed his friend got up and stood before him as well as ever. And both the young men gave thanks, and set their faces towards home.When they arrived at the town where the king dwelt they entered the small house over against the castle. The news of their coming spread very soon, and the king rejoiced greatly that the handsome young prince had come back again, and commanded great feasts to be prepared, for in a few days his daughter should marry the king’s son. The young man himself could imagine no greater happiness, and when the marriage was over they spent some months at the court making merry.At length the king’s son said, ‘My mother awaits me at home, full of care and anxiety. Here I must remain no longer, and to-morrow I will take my wife and my friend and start for home.’ And the king was content that he should do so, and gave orders to prepare for their journey.Now in his heart the king cherished a deadly hate towards the poor young man whom he had tried to kill, but who had returned to him living, and in order to do him hurt sent him on a message to some distant spot. ‘See that you are quick,’ said he, ‘for your friend will await your return before he starts.’ The youth put spurs to his horse and departed, bidding the prince farewell, so that the king’s message might be delivered the sooner. As soon as he had started the king went to the chamber of the prince, and said to him, ‘If you do not start immediately, you will never reach the place where you must camp for the night.’‘I cannot start without my friend,’ replied the king’s son.‘Oh, he will be back in an hour,’ replied the king, ‘and I will give him my best horse, so that he will be sure to catch you up.’ The king’s son allowed himself to be persuaded and took leave of his father-in-law, and set out with his wife on his journey home.Meanwhile the poor friend had been unable to get through his task in the short time appointed by the king, and when at last he returned the king said to him,‘Your comrade is a long way off by now; you had better see if you can overtake him.’So the young man bowed and left the king’s presence, and followed after his friend on foot, for he had no horse. Night and day he ran, till at length he reached the place where the king’s son had pitched his tent, and sank down before him, a miserable object, worn out and covered with mud and dust. But the king’s son welcomed him with joy, and tended him as he would his brother.And at last they came home again, and the queen was waiting and watching in the palace, as she had never ceased to do since her son had rode away. She almost died of joy at seeing him again, but after a little she remembered his sick friend, and ordered a bed to be made ready and the best doctors in all the country to be sent for. When they heard of the queen’s summons they flocked from all parts, but none could cure him. After everyone had tried and failed a servant entered and informed the queen that a strange old man had just knocked at the palace gate and declared that he was able to heal the dying youth. Now this was a holy man, who had heard of the trouble the king’s son was in, and had come to help.It happened that at this very time a little daughter was born to the king’s son, but in his distress for his friend he had hardly a thought to spare for the baby. He could not be prevailed on to leave the sick bed, and he was bending over it when the holy man entered the room. ‘Do you wish your friend to be cured?’ asked the new comer of the king’s son. ‘And what price would you pay?’‘What price?’ answered the king’s son; ‘only tell me what I can do to heal him.’‘Listen to me, then,’ said the old man. ‘This evening you must take your child, and open her veins, and smear the wounds of your friend with her blood. And you will see, he will get well in an instant.’At these words the king’s son shrieked with horror, for he loved the baby dearly, but he answered, ‘I have sworn that I would treat my friend as if he were my brother, and if there is no other way my child must be sacrificed.’As by this time evening had already fallen he took the child and opened its veins, and smeared the blood over the wounds of the sick man, and the look of death departed from him, and he grew strong and rosy once more. But the little child lay as white and still as if she had been dead. They laid her in the cradle and wept bitterly, for they thought that by the next morning she would be lost to them.At sunrise the old man returned and asked after the sick man.‘He is as well as ever,’ answered the king’s son.‘And where is your baby?’‘In the cradle yonder, and I think she is dead,’ replied the father sadly.‘Look at her once more,’ said the holy man, and as they drew near the cradle there lay the baby smiling up at them.‘I am St. James of Lizia,’ said the old man, ‘and I have come to help you, for I have seen that you are a true friend. From henceforward live happily, all of you, together, and if troubles should draw near you send for me, and I will aid you to get through them.’With these words he lifted his hand in blessing and vanished.And they obeyed him, and were happy and content, and tried to make the people of the land happy and contented too.
Dick Whittington was a very little boy when his father and mother died; so little, indeed, that he never knew them, nor the place where he was born. He strolled about the country as ragged as a colt, till he met with a wagoner who was going to London, and who gave him leave to walk all the way by the side of his wagon without paying anything for his passage. This pleased little Whittington very much, as he wanted to see London sadly, for he had heard that the streets were paved with gold, and he was willing to get a bushel of it; but how great was his disappointment, poor boy! when he saw the streets covered with dirt instead of gold, and found himself in a strange place, without a friend, without food, and without money.Though the wagoner was so charitable as to let him walk up by the side of the wagon for nothing, he took care not to know him when he came to town, and the poor boy was, in a little time, so cold and hungry that he wished himself in a good kitchen and by a warm fire in the country.In his distress he asked charity of several people, and one of them bid him “Go to work for an idle rogue.” “That I will,” said Whittington, “with all my heart; I will work for you if you will let me.”The man, who thought this savored of wit and impertinence (though the poor lad intended only to show his readiness to work), gave him a blow with a stick which broke his head so that the blood ran down. In this situation, and fainting for want of food, he laid himself down at the door of one Mr. Fitzwarren, a merchant, where the cook saw him, and, being an ill-natured hussy, ordered him to go about his business or she would scald him. At this time Mr. Fitzwarren came from the Exchange, and began also to scold at the poor boy, bidding him to go to work.Whittington answered that he should be glad to work if anybody would employ him, and that he should be able if he could get some victuals to eat, for he had had nothing for three days, and he was a poor country boy, and knew nobody, and nobody would employ him.He then endeavored to get up, but he was so very weak that he fell down again, which excited so much compassion in the merchant that he ordered the servants to take him in and give him some meat and drink, and let him help the cook to do any dirty work that she had to set him about. People are too apt to reproach those who beg with being idle, but give themselves no concern to put them in the way of getting business to do, or con- sidering whether they are able to do it, which is not charity.But we return to Whittington, who could have lived happy in this worthy family had he not been bumped about by the cross cook, who must be always roasting and basting, or when the spit was idle employed her hands upon poor Whittington! At last Miss Alice, his master’s daughter, was informed of it, and then she took compassion on the poor boy, and made the servants treat him kindly.Besides the crossness of the cook, Whittington had another difficulty to get over before he could be happy. He had, by order of his master, a flock-bed placed for him in a garret, where there was a number of rats and mice that often ran over the poor boy’s nose and disturbed him in his sleep. After some time, however, a gentleman who came to his master’s house gave Whittington a penny for brushing his shoes. This he put into his pocket, being determined to lay it out to the best advantage; and the next day, seeing a woman in the street with a cat under her arm, he ran up to know the price of it. The woman (as the cat was a good mouser) asked a deal of money for it, but on Whittington’s telling her he had but a penny in the world, and that he wanted a cat sadly, she let him have it.This cat Whittington concealed in the garret, for fear she should be beat about by his mortal enemy the cook, and here she soon killed or frightened away the rats and mice, so that the poor boy could now sleep as sound as a top.Soon after this the merchant, who had a ship ready to sail, called for his servants, as his custom was, in order that each of them might venture something to try their luck; and whatever they sent was to pay neither freight nor custom, for he thought justly that God Almighty would bless him the more for his readiness to let the poor partake of his fortune.All the servants appeared but poor Whittington, who, having neither money nor goods, could not think of sending anything to try his luck; but his good friend Miss Alice, thinking his poverty kept him away, ordered him to be called.She then offered to lay down something for him, but the merchant told his daughter that would not do, it must be something of his own. Upon which poor Whittington said he had nothing but a cat which he bought for a penny that was given him. “Fetch thy cat, boy,” said the merchant, “and send her.” Whittington brought poor puss and delivered her to the captain, with tears in his eyes, for he said he should now be disturbed by the rats and mice as much as ever. All the company laughed at the adventure but Miss Alice, who pitied the poor boy, and gave him something to buy another cat.While puss was beating the billows at sea, poor Whittington was severely beaten at home by his tyrannical mistress the cook, who used him so cruelly, and made such game of him for sending his cat to sea, that at last the poor boy determined to run away from his place, and having packed up the few things he had, he set out very early in the morning on All-Hallows day. He traveled as far as Holloway, and there sat down on a stone to consider what course he should take; but while he was thus ruminating, Bow bells, of which there were only six, began to ring; and he thought their sounds addressed him in this manner:“Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London.”“Lord Mayor of London!” said he to himself, “what would not one endure to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in such a fine coach? Well, I’ll go back again, and bear all the pummelling and ill-usage of Cicely rather than miss the opportunity of being Lord Mayor!” So home he went, and happily got into the house and about his business before Mrs. Cicely made her appearance.We must now follow Miss Puss to the coast of Africa. How perilous are voyages at sea, how uncertain the winds and the waves, and how many accidents attend a naval life!The ship that had the cat on board was long beaten at sea, and at last, by contrary winds, driven on a part of the coast of Barbary which was inhabited by Moors unknown to the English. These people received our countrymen with civility, and therefore the captain, in order to trade with them, showed them the patterns of the goods he had on board, and sent some of them to the King of the country, who was so well pleased that he sent for the captain and the factor to come to his palace, which was about a mile from the sea. Here they were placed, according to the custom of the country, on rich carpets, flowered with gold and silver; and the King and Queen being seated at the upper end of the room, dinner was brought in, which consisted of many dishes; but no sooner were the dishes put down but an amazing number of rats and mice came from all quarters and devoured all the meat in an instant.The factor, in surprise, turned round to the nobles and asked if these vermin were not offensive. “Oh! yes,” said they, “very offensive; and the King would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber, and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping, for fear of them.”The factor jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his cat, and told the King he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. The King’s heart heaved so high at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his head. “Bring this creature to me,” said he; “vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say I will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her.” The factor, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of Miss Puss. He told his Majesty that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship–but to oblige his Majesty he would fetch her. “Run, run,” said the Queen; “I am impatient to see the dear creature.”Away flew the factor, while another dinner was providing, and returned with the cat just as the rats and mice were devouring that also. He immediately put down Miss Puss, who killed a great number of them.The King rejoiced greatly to see his old enemies destroyed by so small a creature, and the Queen was highly pleased, and desired the cat might be brought near that she might look at her. Upon which the factor called “Pussy, pussy, pussy!” and she came to him. He then presented her to the Queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such havoc among the rats and mice; however, when the factor stroked the cat and called “Pussy, pussy!” the Queen also touched her and cried “Putty, putty!” for she had not learned English.He then put her down on the Queen’s lap, where she, purring, played with her Majesty’s hand, and then sang herself to sleep.The King, having seen the exploits of Miss Puss, and being informed that her kittens would stock the whole country, bargained with the captain and factor for the whole ship’s cargo, and then gave them ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to. On which, taking leave of their Majesties and other great personages at court, they sailed with a fair wind for England, whither we must now attend them.The morn had scarcely dawned when Mr. Fitzwarren arose to count over the cash and settle the business for that day. He had just entered the counting-house, and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came, tap, tap, at the door. “Who’s there?” said Mr. Fitzwarren. “A friend,” answered the other. “What friend can come at this unseasonable time?” “A real friend is never unseasonable,” answered the other. “I come to bring you good news of your ship Unicorn.” The merchant bustled up in such a hurry that he forgot his gout; instantly opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage. Then they told him the adventures of the cat, and showed him the cabinet of jewels which they had brought for Mr. Whittington. Upon which he cried out with great earnestness, but not in the most poetical manner:“Go, send him in, and tell him of his fame, And call him Mr. Whittington by name.”It is not our business to animadvert upon these lines; we are not critics, but historians. It is sufficient for us that they are the words of Mr. Fitzwarren; and though it is beside our purpose, and perhaps not in our power to prove him a good poet, we shall soon convince the reader that he was a good man, which was a much better character; for when some who were present told him that this treasure was too much for such a poor boy as Whittington, he said: “God forbid that I should deprive him of a penny; it is his own, and he shall have it to a farthing.” He then ordered Mr. Whittington in, who was at this time cleaning the kitchen and would have excused himself from going into the counting-house, saying the room was swept and his shoes were dirty and full of hob-nails. The merchant, however, made him come in, and ordered a chair to be set for him. Upon which, thinking they intended to make sport of him, as had been too often the case in the kitchen, he besought his master not to mock a poor simple fellow, who intended them no harm, but let him go about his business. The merchant, taking him by the hand, said: “Indeed, Mr. Whittington, I am in earnest with you, and sent for you to congratulate you on your great success. Your cat has procured you more money than I am worth in the world, and may you long enjoy it and be happy!”At length, being shown the treasure, and convinced by them that all of it belonged to him, he fell upon his knees and thanked the Almighty for his providential care of such a poor and miserable creature. He then laid all the treasure at his master’s feet, who refused to take any part of it, but told him he heartily rejoiced at his prosperity, and hoped the wealth he had acquired would be a comfort to him, and would make him happy. He then applied to his mistress, and to his good friend Miss Alice, who refused to take any part of the money, but told him she heartily rejoiced at his good success, and wished him all imaginable felicity. He then gratified the captain, factor, and the ship’s crew for the care they had taken of his cargo. He likewise distributed presents to all the servants in the house, not forgetting even his old enemy the cook, though she little deserved it.After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised Mr. Whittington to send for the necessary people and dress himself like a gentleman, and made him the offer of his house to live in till he could provide himself with a better.Now it came to pass when Mr. Whittington’s face was washed, his hair curled, and he dressed in a rich suit of clothes, that he turned out a genteel young fellow; and, as wealth contributes much to give a man confidence, he in a little time dropped that sheepish behavior which was principally occasioned by a depression of spirits, and soon grew a sprightly and good companion, insomuch that Miss Alice, who had formerly pitied him, now fell in love with him.When her father perceived they had this good liking for each other he proposed a match between them, to which both parties cheerfully consented, and the Lord Mayor, Court of Aldermen, Sheriffs, the Company of Stationers, the Royal Academy of Arts, and a number of eminent merchants attended the ceremony, and were elegantly treated at an entertainment made for that purpose.History further relates that they lived very happy, had several children, and died at a good old age. Mr. Whittington served as Sheriff of London and was three times Lord Mayor. In the last year of his mayoralty he entertained King Henry V and his Queen, after his conquest of France, upon which occasion the King, in consideration of Whittington’s merit, said: “Never had prince such a subject”; which being told to Whittington at the table, he replied: “Never had subject such a king.” His Majesty, out of respect to his good character, conferred the honor of knighthood on him soon after.Sir Richard many years before his death constantly fed a great number of poor citizens, built a church and a college to it, with a yearly allowance for poor scholars, and near it erected a hospital.He also built Newgate for criminals, and gave liberally to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital and other public charities.
“Yes, my boy, whatever happens, be sure to save that tablet. It is the only thing we have left worth keeping.”K’ang-p’u’s father was just setting out for the city, to be gone all day. He had been telling K’ang-p’u about some work in the little garden, for the boy was a strong and willing helper.“All right, father, I’ll do what you tell me; but suppose the foreign soldiers should come while you are gone? I heard that they were over at T’ang Shu yesterday and burned the village. If they should come here, what must I do?”Mr. Lin laughed heartily. “Why, there’s nothing here for them to burn, if it comes to that!—a mud house, a grass roof, and a pile of ragged bedding. Surely they won’t bother my little hut. It’s loot they’re after—money—or something they can sell.”“But, father,” persisted the boy, “haven’t you forgotten? Surely you wouldn’t wish them to burn your father’s tablet?”“Quite right; for the moment I did forget. Yes, yes, my boy, whatever happens be sure to save the tablet. It is the only thing we have worth keeping.”With that, Mr. Lin went out at the gate, leaving K’ang-p’u standing all alone. The little fellow was scarcely twelve years old. He had a bright, sunny face and a happy heart. Being left by himself did not mean tears and idleness for him.He went into the poor little house and stood for a moment looking earnestly at the wooden tablet. It was on a shelf in the one-roomed shanty, an oblong piece of wood about twelve inches high, enclosed in a wooden case. Through the carved screen work in the front, K’ang-p’u could see his grandfather’s name written in Chinese characters on the tablet. Ever since babyhood K’ang-p’u had been taught to look at this piece of wood with a feeling of reverence.“Your grandfather’s spirit is inside,” his father had said one day. “You must worship his spirit, for he was a good man, far better than your dad. If I had obeyed him in all things, I, his only son, should not now be living in this miserable hut.”“But didn’t he live here, too?” asked K’ang-p’u in surprise.“Oh, no, we lived in a big house over yonder in another village; in a big house with a high stone wall.”The little fellow had gasped with surprise at hearing this, for there was not such a thing as a stone wall in his village, and he felt that his grandfather must have been a rich man. He had not asked any more questions, but from that day on he had been rather afraid of the carved wooden box in which his grandfather’s spirit was supposed to live.So, on this day when his father left him alone, the boy stood looking at the tablet, wondering how a big man’s spirit could squeeze into such a small space. He put out his finger cautiously and touched the bottom of the box, then drew back, half-frightened at his own daring. No bad results followed. It seemed just like any other piece of wood. Somewhat puzzled, he walked out of the house into the little garden. His father had told him to re-set some young cabbages. This was work K’ang-p’u had done many times before. First, he gathered a basket of chicken feathers, for his father had told him that a few feathers placed at the roots of the young plant would do more to make it strong and healthy than anything else that could be used.All day K’ang-p’u worked steadily in the garden. He was just beginning to feel tired, when he heard a woman screaming in the distance. He dropped his basket and rushed to the gate. Down the road at the far side of the village he saw a crowd of women and children running hither and thither, and—yes! there were the soldiers—the dreaded foreign soldiers! They were burning the houses; they were stealing whatever they could find.Now, most boys would have been frightened—would have taken to their heels without thought of consequences. K’ang-p’u, however, though like other lads afraid of soldiers, was too brave to run without first doing his duty. He decided to stand his ground until he was sure the foreigners were coming his way. Perhaps they would grow tired of their cruel sport and leave the little house unharmed. He watched with wide-open eyes the work of pillage. Alas! these men did not seem to tire of their amusement. One after another the houses were entered and robbed. Women were screaming and children crying. Nearly all the village men were away in a distant market town, for none of them had expected an attack.Nearer and nearer came the robbers. At last they were next door to K’ang-p’u’s hut, and he knew the time had come for him to do his duty. Seizing the basket of chicken feathers, he rushed into the house, snatched the precious tablet from the shelf, and hid it in the bottom of the basket. Then, without stopping to say good-bye to the spot which he had known all his life, he rushed out of the gate and down the narrow street.“Kill the kid!” shouted a soldier, whom K’ang-p’u nearly ran against in his hurry. “Put down the basket, boy! No stealing here.”“Yes, kill him!” shouted another with a loud laugh; “he’d make a good bit of bacon.”But no one touched him, and K’ang-p’u, still holding tightly to his burden, was soon far out on the winding road among the cornfields. If they should follow, he thought of hiding among the giant cornstalks. His legs were tired now, and he sat down under a stone memorial arch near some crossroads to rest.Where was he going, and what should he do? These were the questions that filled the boy’s whirling little brain. First, he must find out if the soldiers were really destroying all the houses in his village. Perhaps some of them would not be burned and he could return at night to join his father.After several failures he managed to climb one of the stone pillars and from the arch above he could get a good view of the surrounding country. Over to the west was his village. His heart beat fast when he saw that a great cloud of smoke was rising from the houses. Clearly, the thieves were making quick work of the place, and soon there would be nothing left but piles of mud, brick, ashes and other rubbish.Night came on. K’ang-p’u clambered down from his stone perch. He was beginning to feel hungry, and yet he dared not turn back towards home. And besides, would not all the other villagers be hungry, too? He lay down at the foot of the stone monument, placing the basket within reach at one side. Soon he fell fast asleep.How long he had been sleeping he never knew; but it was not yet day when he awoke with a start and looked round him in the moonlight. Some one had called him distinctly by name. At first, he thought it must have been his father’s voice; and then as he grew wider and wider awake he knew this could not be, for the voice sounded like that of an old man. K’ang-p’u looked round in amazement, first at the stone columns, then at the arch above. No one was to be seen. Had he been dreaming?Just as he lay back to sleep once more, the voice sounded again very faintly, “K’ang-p’u! K’ang-p’u! Why don’t you let me out? I can’t breathe under all these feathers.”Quick as a flash he knew what was the matter. Burying his hand in the basket, he seized the wooden tablet, drew it from its hiding-place, and stood it up on the stone base. Wonder of wonders! There before his very eyes he saw a tiny fellow, not six inches high, sitting on top of the wooden upright and dangling his legs over the front of the tablet. The dwarf had a long grey beard, and K’ang-p’u, without looking twice, knew that this was the spirit of his dead grandfather come to life and clothed with flesh and blood.“Ho, ho!” said the small man, laughing, “So you thought you’d bury your old grandfather in feathers, did you? A soft enough grave, but rather smelly.”“But, sir,” cried K’ang-p’u, “I had to do it, to save you from the soldiers! They were just about to burn our house and you in it.”“There, there, my boy! Don’t be uneasy. I am not scolding you. You did the best you could for your old grandfather. If you had been like most lads, you would have taken to your heels and left me to those sea-devils who were sacking the village. There is no doubt about it: you saved me from a second death much more terrible than the first one.”K’ang-p’u shuddered, for he knew that his grandfather had been killed in battle. He had heard his father tell the story many times.“Now, what do you propose doing about it?” asked the old man finally, looking straight into the boy’s face.“Doing about it, sir? Why, really, I don’t know. I thought that perhaps in the morning the soldiers would be gone and I could carry you back. Surely my father will be looking for me.”“What! Looking for you in the ashes? And what could he do if he did find you? Your house is burned, your chickens carried away and your cabbages trampled underfoot. A sorry home he will return to. You would be just one more mouth to feed. No! that plan will never do. If your father thinks you are dead, he will go off to another province to get work. That would save him from starvation.”“But what am I to do?” wailed poor K’ang-p’u. “I don’t want him to leave me all alone!”“All alone! What! don’t you count your old grand-daddy? Surely you are not a very polite youngster, even if you did save me from burning to death.”“Count you?” repeated the boy, surprised. “Why, surely you can’t help me to earn a living?”“Why not, boy? Is this an age when old men are good for nothing?”“But, sir, you are only the spirit of my grandfather, and spirits cannot work!”“Ha, ha! just hear the child. Why, look you, I will show you what spirits can do, provided you will do exactly what I tell you.”Of course, K’ang-p’u promised, for he was always obedient; and was not this little man who spoke so strangely, the spirit of his grandfather? And is not every lad in China taught to honour his ancestors?“Now, listen, my boy. First, let me say that if you had not been kind, brave and filial, I should not take the trouble to help you out of your misfortune. As it is, there is nothing else for me to do. I cast your father off because he was disobedient. He has lived in a dirty hovel ever since. Doubtless, he has been sorry for his misdeeds, for I see that although he was disgraced by being sent away from the family home, he has taught you to honour and love me. Most boys would have snatched up a blanket or a piece of bread before running from the enemy, but you thought only of my tablet. You saved me and went to bed hungry. For this bravery, I shall give back to you the home of your ancestors.”“But I can’t live in it,” said K’ang-p’u, full of wonder, “if you will not let my father come back to it. If he goes away he will have a very hard time: he will be lonely without me, and may die; and then I would not be able to take care of his grave, or to burn incense there at the proper season!”“Quite right, K’ang-p’u. I see you love your father as well as your grandfather’s tablet. Very well; you shall have your way. I daresay your father is sorry by this time that he treated me so badly.”“Indeed, he must be,” said the boy earnestly, “for I have seen him kneel before your tablet many times and burn incense there on the proper days. I know he is very sorry.”“Very well; go to sleep again. Let us wait until morning and then I shall see what I can do for you. This moonlight is not bright enough for my old eyes. I shall have to wait for morning.”As he spoke these last words, the little man began to grow smaller and smaller before the eyes of his grandson, until at last he had altogether disappeared.At first, K’ang-p’u was too much excited to close his eyes. He remained for a time looking up into the starry sky and wondering if what he had heard would really come true, or whether he could have dreamt the whole story of his grandfather’s coming to life again. Could it really be that the old family property would be given back to his father?He remembered now that he had once heard his father speak of having lived in a large house on a beautiful compound. It was just before K’ang-p’u’s mother had been carried away by the fever. As she had lain tossing upon the rude stone bed, with none of those comforts which are so necessary for the sick, K’ang-p’u remembered that his father had said to her: “What a shame that we are not living in my father’s house! There you might have had every luxury. It is all my fault; I disobeyed my father.”Soon after that his mother had died, but K’ang-p’u had remembered those words ever since, and had often wished that he could hear more about this house where his father had spent his boyhood. Could it be possible that they would soon be living in it? No, surely there must be some mistake: the night fairies of his dreams had been deceiving him. With a sigh he closed his eyes and once more fell asleep.When K’ang-p’u next awoke, the sun was shining full in his face. He looked around him, sleepily rubbing his eyes and trying to remember all that had happened. Suddenly he thought of the tablet and of his grandfather’s appearance at midnight. But, strange to say, the basket had disappeared with all its contents. The tablet was nowhere to be seen, and even the stone arch under which he had gone to sleep had completely vanished. Alas! his grandfather’s tablet—how poorly he had guarded it! What terrible thing would happen now that it was gone!K’ang-p’u stood up and looked round him in trembling surprise. What could have taken place while he was sleeping? At first, he did not know what to do. Fortunately, the path through the corn was still there, and he decided to return to the village and see if he could find any trace of his father. His talk with the old man must have been only an idle dream, and some thief must have carried off the basket. If only the stone arch had not vanished K’ang-p’u would not have been so perplexed.He hurried along the narrow road, trying to forget the empty stomach which was beginning to cry for food. If the soldiers were still in the village, surely they would not hurt an empty-handed little boy. More than likely they had gone the day before. If he could only find his father! Now he crossed the little brook where the women came to rub their clothes upon the rocks. There was the big mulberry tree where the boys used to gather leaves for their silkworms. Another turn of the road and he would see the village.When K’ang-p’u passed round the corner and looked for the ruins of the village hovels, an amazing sight met his gaze. There, rising directly before him, was a great stone wall, like those he had seen round the rich people’s houses when his father had taken him to the city. The great gate stood wide open, and the keeper, rushing out, exclaimed:“Ah! the little master has come!”Completely bewildered, the boy followed the servant through the gateway, passed through several wide courts, and then into a garden where flowers and strangely-twisted trees were growing.This, then, was the house which his grandfather had promised him—the home of his ancestors. Ah! how beautiful! how beautiful! Many men and women servants bowed low as he passed, saluting with great respect and crying out:“Yes, it is really the little master! He has come back to his own!”K’ang-p’u, seeing how well dressed the servants were, felt much ashamed of his own ragged garments, and put up his hands to hide a torn place. What was his amazement to find that he was no longer clad in soiled, ragged clothes, that he was dressed in the handsomest embroidered silk. From head to foot he was fitted out like the young Prince his father had pointed out to him one day in the city.Then they entered a magnificent reception-hall on the other side of the garden. K’ang-p’u could not keep back his tears, for there stood his father waiting to meet him.“My boy! my boy!” cried the father, “you have come back to me. I feared you had been stolen away for ever.”“Oh, no!” said K’ang-p’u, “you have not lost me, but I have lost the tablet. A thief came and took it last night while I was sleeping.”“Lost the tablet! A thief! Why, no, my son, you are mistaken! There it is, just before you.”K’ang-p’u looked, and saw standing on a handsome carved table the very thing he had mourned as lost. As he stared in surprise he almost expected to see the tiny figure swinging its legs over the top, and to hear the high-pitched voice of his grandfather.“Yes, it is really the lost tablet!” he cried joyfully. “How glad I am it is back in its rightful place once more.”Then father and son fell upon their knees before the wooden emblem, and bowed reverently nine times to the floor, thanking the spirit for all it had done for them. When they arose their hearts were full of a new happiness.
A certain tailor who was great at boasting but ill at doing, took it into his head to go abroad for a while, and look about the world. As soon as he could manage it, he left his workshop, and wandered on his way, over hill and dale, sometimes hither, sometimes thither, but ever on and on. Once when he was out he perceived in the blue distance a steep hill, and behind it a tower reaching to the clouds, which rose up out of a wild dark forest. “Thunder and lightning,” cried the tailor, “what is that?” and as he was strongly goaded by curiosity, he went boldly towards it. But what made the tailor open his eyes and mouth when he came near it, was to see that the tower had legs, and leapt in one bound over the steep hill, and was now standing as an all powerful giant before him. “What dost thou want here, thou tiny fly’s leg?” cried the giant, with a voice as if it were thundering on every side. The tailor whimpered, “I want just to look about and see if I can earn a bit of bread for myself, in this forest.” “If that is what thou art after,” said the giant, “thou mayst have a place with me.” “If it must be, why not? What wages shall I receive?” “Thou shalt hear what wages thou shalt have. Every year three hundred and sixty-five days, and when it is leap-year, one more into the bargain. Does that suit thee?” “All right,” replied the tailor, and thought, in his own mind, “a man must cut his coat according to his cloth; I will try to get away as fast as I can.” On this the giant said to him, “Go, little ragamuffin, and fetch me a jug of water.” “Had I not better bring the well itself at once, and the spring too?” asked the boaster, and went with the pitcher to the water. “What! the well and the spring too,” growled the giant in his beard, for he was rather clownish and stupid, and began to be afraid. “That knave is not a fool, he has a wizard in his body. Be on thy guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee.” When the tailor had brought the water, the giant bade him go into the forest, and cut a couple of blocks of wood and bring them back. “Why not the whole forest, at once, with one stroke. The whole forest, young and old, with all that is there, both rough and smooth?” asked the little tailor, and went to cut the wood. “What! the whole forest, young and old, with all that is there, both rough and smooth, and the well and its spring too,” growled the credulous giant in his beard, and was still more terrified. “The knave can do much more than bake apples, and has a wizard in his body. Be on thy guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee!” When the tailor had brought the wood, the giant commanded him to shoot two or three wild boars for supper. “Why not rather a thousand at one shot, and bring them all here?” inquired the ostentatious tailor. “What!” cried the timid giant in great terror; “Let well alone to-night, and lie down to rest.”
Bokwewa and his brother lived in a far-off part of the country. By such as had knowledge of them, Bokwewa, the elder, although deformed and feeble of person, was considered a manito, who had assumed the mortal shape; while his younger brother, Kwasynd, manly in appearance, active, and strong, partook of the nature of the present race of beings.They lived off the path, in a wild, lonesome place, far retired from neighbors, and, undisturbed by cares, they passed their time, content and happy. The days glided by serenely as the river that flowed by their lodge.Owing to his lack of strength, Bokwewa never engaged in the chase, but gave his attention entirely to the affairs of the lodge. In the long winter evenings he passed the time in telling his brother stories of the giants, spirits, weendigoes, and fairies of the elder age, when they had the exclusive charge of the world. He also at times taught his brother the manner in which game should be pursued, pointed out to him the ways of the different beasts and birds of the chase, and assigned the seasons at which they could be hunted with most success.For a while the brother was eager to learn, and keenly attended to his duties as the provider of the lodge; but at length he grew weary of their tranquil life, and began to have a desire to show himself among men. He became restive in their retirement, and was seized with a longing to visit remote places.One day, Kwasynd told his brother that he should leave him; that he wished to visit the habitations of men, and to procure a wife.Bokwewa objected; but his brother overruled all that he said, and in spite of every remonstrance, he departed on his travels.He traveled for a long time. At length he fell in with the footsteps of men. They were moving by encampments, for he saw, at several spots, the poles where they had passed. It was winter; and coming to a place where one of their company had died, he found upon a scaffold, lying at length in the cold blue air, the body of a beautiful young woman. “She shall be my wife!” exclaimed Kwasynd.He lifted her up, and bearing her in his arms, he returned to his brother. “Brother,” he said, “can not you restore her to life? Oh, do me that favor!”He looked upon the beautiful female with a longing gaze; but she lay as cold and silent as when he had found her upon the scaffold.“I will try,” said Bokwewa.These words had been scarcely breathed, when the young woman rose up, opened her eyes, and looked upon Bokwewa with a smile, as if she had known him before.To Kwasynd she paid no heed whatever; but presently Bokwewa, seeing how she lingered in her gaze upon himself, said to her, “Sister, that is your husband,” pointing to Kwasynd.She listened to his voice, and crossing the lodge, she sat by Kwasynd, and they were man and wife.For a long time they all lived contentedly together. Bokwewa was very kind to his brother, and sought to render his days happy. He was ever within the lodge, seeking to have it in readiness against the return of Kwasynd from the hunt. And by following his directions, which were those of one deeply skilled in the chase, Kwasynd always succeeded in returning with a good store of meat.But the charge of the two brothers was greatly lightened by the presence of the spirit-wife; for without labor of the hand, she ordered the lodge, and as she willed, every thing took its place, and was at once in proper array. The wish of her heart seemed to control whatever she looked upon, and it obeyed her desire.But it was still more to the surprise of her husband Kwasynd that she never partook of food, nor shared in any way the longings and appetites of a mortal creature. She had never been seen arranging her hair, like other females, or at work upon her garments, and yet they were ever seemly, and without blemish or disorder.Behold her at any hour, she was ever beautiful, and she seemed to need no ornament, nor nourishment, nor other aid, to give grace or strength to her looks.Kwasynd, when the first wonder of her ways had passed, payed little heed to her discourse; he was engrossed with the hunt, and chose rather to be abroad, pursuing the wild game, or in the lodge, enjoying its savory spoil, than the society of his spirit-wife.But Bokwewa watched closely every word that fell from her lips, and often forgot, like her, all mortal appetite and care of the body, in conferring with her, and noting what she had to say of spirits and fairies, of stars, and streams that never ceased to flow, and the delight of the happy hunting-grounds, and the groves of the blessed.One day Kwasynd had gone out as usual, and Bokwewa was sitting in the lodge, on the opposite side to his brother’s wife, when she suddenly exclaimed:“I must leave you,” as a tall young man, whose face was like the sun in its brightness, entered, and taking her by the hand he led her to the door.She made no resistance, but turning as she left the lodge, she cast upon Bokwewa a smile of kind regard, and was at once, with her companion, gone from his view.He ran to the door and glanced about. He saw nothing; but looking far off in the sky, he thought that he could discover, at a great distance, a shining track, and the dim figures of two who were vanishing in heaven.When his brother returned, Bokwewa related all to him exactly as it had happened.The face of Kwasynd changed, and was dark as the night. For several days he would not taste food. Sometimes he would fall to weeping for a long time, and now only it seemed that he remembered how gentle and beautiful had been the ways of her who was lost. At last he said that he would go in search of her.Bokwewa tried to dissuade him from it; but he would not be turned aside from his purpose.“Since you are resolved,” said Bokwewa, “listen to my advice. You will have to go South. It is a long distance to the present abiding-place of your wife, and there are so many charms and temptations by the way that I fear you will be led astray and for get your errand. For the people whom you will see in the country through which you have to pass, do nothing but amuse themselves. They are very idle, gay and effeminate, and I fear that they will lead you astray. Your path is beset with dangers. I will mention one or two things which you must be on your guard against.“In the course of your journey you will come to a large grape-vine lying across your path. You must not even taste its fruit, for it is poisonous. Step over it. It is a snake. You will next come to something that looks like bear’s fat, of which you are so fond. Touch it not, or you will be overcome by the soft habits of the idle people. It is frog’s eggs. These are snares laid by the way for you.”Kwasynd promised that he would observe the advice and bidding his brother farewell, he set out. After traveling a long time he came to the enchanted grape-vine. It looked so tempting, with its swelling purple clusters, that he forgot his brother’s warning, and tasted the fruit. He went on till he came to the frog’s eggs. They so much resembled delicious bear’s fat that Kwasynd tasted them. He still went on.At length he came to a wide plain. As he emerged from the forest the sun was falling in the west, and it cast its scarlet and golden shades far over the country. The air was perfectly calm, and the whole prospect had the air of an enchanted land. Fruits and flowers, and delicate blossoms, lured the eye and delighted the senses.At a distance he beheld a large village, swarming with people, and as he drew near he discovered women beating corn in silver mortars.When they saw Kwasynd approaching, they cried out:“Bokwewa’s brother has come to see us.”Throngs of men and women, in bright apparel, hurried out to meet him.He was soon, having already yielded to temptation by the way, overcome by their fair looks and soft speeches, and he was not long afterward seen beating corn with the women, having entirely abandoned all further quest for his lost wife.Meantime, Bokwewa, alone in the lodge, often musing upon the discourse of the spirit-wife, who was gone, waited patiently his brother’s return. After the lapse of several years, when no tidings could be had, he set out in search of him, and he arrived in safety among the soft and idle people of the South. He met the same allurements by the way, and they gathered around him on his coming as they had around his brother Kwasynd; but Bokwewa was proof against their flattery. He only grieved in his heart that any should yield.He shed tears of pity to see that his brother had laid aside the arms of a hunter, and that he was beating corn with the women, indifferent to the fate and the fortune of his lost wife.Bokwewa ascertained that his brother’s wife had passed on to a country beyond.After deliberating for a time, and spending several days in a severe fast, he set out in the direction where he saw that a light shone from the sky.It was far off, but Bokwewa had a stout heart; and strong in the faith that he was now on the broad path toward the happy land, he pressed forward. For many days he traveled without encountering any thing unusual. And now plains of vast extent, and rich in waving grass, began to pass before his eyes. He saw many beautiful groves, and heard the songs of countless birds.At length he began to fail in strength for lack of food; when he suddenly reached a high ground. From this he caught the first glimpse of the other land. But it appeared to be still far off, and all the country between, partly vailed in silvery mists, glittered with lakes and streams of water. As he pressed on, Bokwewa came in sight of innumerable herds of stately deer, moose, and other animals which walked near his path, and they appeared to have no fear of man.And now again as he wound about in his course, and faced the north once more, he beheld, coming toward him, an immense number of men, women, and children, pressing forward in the direction of the shining land.In this vast throng Bokwewa beheld persons of every age, from the little infant, the sweet and lovely penaisee, or younger son, to the feeble, gray old man, stooping under the burden of his years.All whom Bokwewa met, of every name and degree, were heavily laden with pipes, weapons, bows, arrows, kettles and other wares and implements.One man stopped him, and complained of the weary load he was carrying. Another offered him a kettle; another his bow and arrows; but he declined all, and, free of foot, hastened on.And now he met women who were carrying their basket-work, and painted paddles, and little boys, with their embellished war-clubs and bows and arrows, the gift of their friends.With this mighty throng, Bokwewa was borne along for two days and nights, when he arrived at a country so still and shining, and so beautiful in its woods and groves and plains, that he knew it was here that he should find the lost spirit-wife.He had scarcely entered this fair country, with a sense of home and the return to things familiar strong upon him, when there appeared before him the lost spirit-wife herself, who, taking him by the hand, gave him welcome, saying, “My brother, I am glad to see you. Welcome! welcome! You are now in your native land!”
A GRANDFATHER and grandson lived far away from any village. All the people of their nation had been carried off. The grandfather was very careful of his grandson for he was the only comfort he had.One day the boy ran into the cabin, and said, “Grandfather, I heard something out in the woods crying, ‘kidjidi! kidjidi!'”“Oh,” said the grandfather, “that was a chickadee, that is the first game hunters kill.”The boy went out with his bow and arrows and after many attempts he killed a chickadee. When he took it home the old man danced with joy, singing as he danced, “My grandson will be a great hunter! My grandson will be a great hunter!”Another day the boy ran in crying, “O Grandfather, I’ve seen something with four legs, and a tail with four black stripes around it!“That was a coon,” said the grandfather. “That is the second game hunters kill.”The boy killed a coon, and the old man danced and sang, “Oh, my grandson will be a great hunter! Oh, my grandson will be a great hunter!”The next day the boy ran in crying, “O, Grandfather, I’ve seen a strange thing walking on two legs. Red skin hangs from its head, and it makes a great noise.”“That was a turkey,” said the grandfather. “That is the third game a hunter kills.”The boy went to the woods and when he saw a flock of turkeys, he ran till he caught one of them. Again the old man danced and sang, “My grandson will be a great hunter.”The boy went out another day and saw a long creature with thin legs and something, like the branches of a tree, on its head. He was frightened; he ran home and told his grandfather what he had seen. The old man said, “That is the fourth and largest game; that was a deer. When a man can kill a deer he is a good hunter.”The next clay the boy killed a deer.The old man didn’t dance or sing this time; it was a solemn occasion. He taught the boy how to dress the deer and stretch the skin, then he said, “You are a young man now. You needn’t run in to tell me what you have seen, kill anything that comes along. A man that can kill a deer can kill all kinds of game. When hunting you can go in any direction except the North, wicked women live in the North; women who have killed many of our people.”The young man went toward the South, but he kept thinking about the women who had killed his relatives and at last he turned and went North. After a time he came to a tree that was covered with scratches, like the scratches made by a coon’s nails. He said in his mind, “It must be that there are a great many coons in this tree.”He threw off his blanket, took a stick and his bow and arrows and climbed up till he came to a hole in the tree; he looked into the hole and, seeing a number of coons, poked his stick down, killed two or three of them, pulled them up and threw them to the ground. As he did this he looked down and he saw, near the foot of the tree, a beautiful young woman.As soon as he saw her, she called out, “Come down, I want to talk to you.”He paid no attention to the woman, but kept on killing coons. She called again and again. At last he went to the other side of the tree, turned himself into a red-headed woodpecker and went up the tree pecking the bark. When he got to the top he shot an arrow off toward home. The arrow whizzed through the air, making a noise like a woodpecker.The woman, thinking that the boy was in the arrow, hurried after it.The young man took his own form, slipped down from the tree, put on his clothes, gathered up the coons and went home. The grandfather was glad to get the coons, but when he knew where his grandson had been he was angry. “You must not go there again,” said he. “If you do, great harm will come to us.”The next day the young man started off toward the South, but when out of sight he turned and went North. He went beyond the first tree and came to a second tree covered with scratches. He climbed the tree and killed a number of coons, then he looked down and saw, sitting on a log, near the foot of the tree, the same young woman. As soon as he saw her, she began to urge him to come down. She talked with enticing words. He knew that he ought not to go, but the feeling came into his heart that he wanted to. He went half way and stopped. Again the woman urged. At last he went to the ground and sat down on the end of the log–the woman was sitting in the middle.“Why do you sit so far away?” asked she, “A young man and a young woman sit near each other when they talk.”He drew a little nearer, then she urged him to come up close to her. At last he sat by her side. She told him stories and talked till he fell asleep then she put him in a skin bag, took the bag on her shoulders and hurried off through the air.After a long time, the woman came to the ground, took the young man out of the bag, roused him, and asked, “Do you know this place?”“Yes, my grandfather used to fish here.”“I don’t believe it,” said the woman, “Point out something you remember.”“There are the poles we put up; and there is the old kettle we cooked in.” He willed that she should see those things; he bewitched her eyes.Again she told him stories till she put him to sleep. A second time she carried him far away. When she came to the ground and opened the bag, the young man found that he was on the shelf of a high cliff. On narrow places near him were other men, some alive, some half eaten up. “Oh,” thought he, “my grandfather was right, there are bad women in the North.” He called to the man nearest him and asked how he came there.“A woman brought me here; other women brought these other men to where they are; many men have been eaten up; you and I will be eaten when they come to us.”The young man thought how he might escape. All at once he remembered that, on a time, a great spider had appeared to him in a dream, and had promised to help him when in trouble, and he cried, “O Spider, help me now!”Right away an enormous spider was there on the top of the cliff and it began weaving threads for a rope. When the rope was long enough the spider let it down and the young man climbed up on it. Then he let the rope down and drew up the men on the cliff one after another. All the men went home except the young man. He set out for the home of the woman who had deceived him.He found the woman living in an old house with her mother and he said to her, “I have come to marry you.”The woman said, “I have a very bad mother, I’m afraid that she will kill you; she sent me to deceive you and carry you to the cliff.”“I’ll try to save myself,” said the young man.The old woman slept at the end of the house. In the night she began to groan and roll around on the ground.The young woman said, “Strike my mother on the head with the corn pounder.”He struck her, and asked, “What is the matter, Mother-in-law?”“I dreamed that my son-in-law killed the white beaver in the lake and made a feast for the DAGWANOEnYENTS.”“Go to sleep now,” said the son-in-law, “I’ll do that to-morrow.”The next morning he went to the lake and killed the beaver with a single arrow, but as soon as he lifted it out of the water the lake rose up and pursued him with fury. The young man knew the water was so poisonous that flesh that it touched instantly dropped from the bones, so he ran for his life. He reached the house and threw the beaver down. That minute the water disappeared.The old woman was raging, she said, “Oh, my poor son, my poor son! I thought that my son-in-law’s bones would be in the lake.”The beaver was dressed and cooked. The man invited the DAGWANOEnYENTS and the GÁSYONDETHAS to come to the feast. They came; the house was full of horrid heads with long hair. When the dinner was eaten to the last morsel, the heads began to smack their lips. “A splendid feast!” said they. “A grand dinner the old woman’s son has made us! How sweet his flesh was!”The old woman was furious; she seized a club and drove the guests away.The next night the old woman rolled around the house and down to the fire, crying, “Agi! Agi!”“Oh,” said the wife. “This time my mother will dream that you and she must go to the sweat house, you first and then she. Now strike her with the corn pounder.”He struck her and she called out, “I dreamed that my son-in-law went to the sweat house and then I went.”“Go to sleep, Mother-in-law, I’ll attend to that to-morrow.”In the morning the sweat house was heated. As soon as the young man went in, the old woman danced around outside and sang “Let there be heat to kill him! Let there be heat to kill him!”When she thought he was dead she went in, but she found him comfortable and happy. Now it was her turn to sweat. The son-in-law closed the sweat house, then he danced and sang “Let it become flint, first at a red and then at a white heat.”Right away the house was flint and red hot.The old woman was burned up.“Now,” said the young man to his wife, “You brought me most of the journey on your back, you know the way; take me to my home.”She put him on her back, carried him over the fields and the woods, past the fishing grounds where he had said that his grandfather used to fish, past the trees scratched by the coons, and at last brought him to his grandfather’s house, and they lived there happily.The women in this story were eagles.
Once upon a time a Jackal and a Pea-hen swore eternal friendship. Every day they had their meals together, and spent hours in pleasant conversation.Now, one day, the Pea-hen had juicy plums for dinner, and the Jackal, for his part, had as juicy a young kid; so they enjoyed themselves immensely. But when the feast was over, the Pea-hen rose gravely, and, after scratching up the ground, carefully sowed all the plum-stones in a row.‘It is my custom to do so when I eat plums,’ she said, with quite an aggravating air of complacent virtue; ‘my mother, good creature, brought me up in excellent habits, and with her dying breath bade me never be wasteful. Now these stones will grow into trees, the fruit of which, even if I do not live to see the day, will afford a meal to many a hungry peacock.’These words made the Jackal feel rather mean, so he answered loftily, ‘Exactly so! I always plant my bones for the same reason.’ And he carefully dug up a piece of ground, and sowed the bones of the kid at intervals.After this, the pair used to come every day and look at their gardens; by and by the plum-stones shot into tender green stems, but the bones made never a sign.‘Bones do take a long time germinating,’ remarked the Jackal, pretending to be quite at his ease; ‘I have known them remain unchanged in the ground for months.’‘My dear sir,’ answered the Pea-hen, with ill-concealed irony, ‘I have known them remain so for years!’So time passed on, and every day, when they visited the garden, the self-complacent Pea-hen became more and more sarcastic, the Jackal more and more savage.At last the plum-trees blossomed and bore fruit, and the Pea-hen sat down to a perfect feast of ripe juicy plums.‘He! he!’ sniggered she to the Jackal, who, having been unsuccessful in hunting that day, stood by dinnerless, hungry, and in consequence very cross; ‘what a time those old bones of yours do take in coming up! But when they do, my! what a crop you’ll have!’The Jackal was bursting with rage, but she wouldn’t take warning, and went on: ‘Poor dear! you do look hungry! There seems some chance of your starving before harvest. What a pity it is you can’t eat plums in the meantime!’‘If I can’t eat plums, I can eat the plum-eater!’ quoth the Jackal; and with that he pounced on the Pea-hen, and gobbled her up.Moral—It is never safe to be wiser than one’s friends.
There were once three brothers who lived in the same village. One of them was very rich. He had houses and fields and barns. He had nothing to spend his money on for he had no children and his wife was as saving and hardworking as himself. The second brother was not so rich but he, too, was prosperous. He had one son and all his thought was to accumulate money and property in order to leave his son rich. He schemed and worked and slaved and made his wife do the same.The third brother was industrious but very poor. He worked early and late and never took a holiday. He couldn’t afford to for he had a wife and ten children and only by working every hour of the day and often far into the night could he earn enough to buy food for so large a family. He was a simple man and a good man and he taught his children that the most important thing for them to do in life was to love God and be kind to their fellowmen.Now it happened that once, when our Lord Christ was on earth testing out the hearts of men, he came in the guise of a beggar to the village where the three brothers lived. He came in a brokendown cart driving a wheezy old horse. It was cold and raining and night was falling.The Beggar knocked at the door of the richest brother and said:“I pray you in God’s name give shelter for the night to me and my horse.”“What!” cried the rich man, “do you suppose I have nothing better to do than give shelter to such as you! Be off with you or I’ll call my men and have them give you the beating you deserve!”The Beggar left without another word and went to the house of the next brother. He was civil at least to the Beggar and pretended that he was sorry to refuse him.“I’d accommodate you if I could,” he said, “but the truth is I can’t. My house isn’t as big as it looks and I have many people dependent on me. Just go on a little farther and I’m sure you’ll find some one who will take you in.”The Beggar turned his horse’s head and went to the tiny little house where the poor brother lived with his big family. He knocked on the door and begged for shelter.“Come in, brother,” said the Poor Man. “We’re pretty crowded here but we’ll find a place for you.”“And my horse,” the Beggar said; “I’m afraid to leave him out in the rain and cold.”“We’ll stable him with my donkey,” the Poor Man said. “Do you come in here by the fire and dry off and I’ll see to the horse.”The Poor Man pulled out his own cart until it was exposed to the rain in order to make a dry place in the shed for the Beggar’s cart. Then he led the Beggar’s gaunt horse into his tiny stable and fed him for the night out of his own slender store of oats and hay.He and his family shared their evening meal with the Beggar and then made up for him a bed of straw near the fire where he was able to pass the night comfortably and warmly.The next morning as he was leaving he said to the Poor Man:“You must come sometime to my house and visit me and let me return the hospitality you have shown me.”“Where do you live?” the Poor Man asked.“You can always find me,” the Beggar said, “by following the tracks of my cart. You will know them because they are broader than the tracks of any other cart. You will come, won’t you?”“Yes,” the Poor Man promised, “I will if ever I have time.”They bade each other good-by and the Beggar drove slowly off. Then the Poor Man went to the shed to get his own cart and the first thing he saw were two large silver bolts lying on the ground.“They must have fallen from the Beggar’s cart!” he thought to himself and he ran out to the road to see whether the Beggar were still in sight. But he and the cart had disappeared.“I hope he has no accident on account of those bolts!” the Poor Man said.When he went to the stable to get his donkey he found four golden horse-shoes where the Beggar’s horse had been standing.“Four golden horse-shoes!” he exclaimed. “I ought to return them and the silver bolts at once! But I can’t to-day, I’m too busy. Well, I’ll hide them safely away and some afternoon when I have a few hours to spare I’ll follow the tracks of the cart to the Beggar’s house.”That afternoon he met his two rich brothers and told them about the Beggar.“Silver bolts!” cried one.“Golden horse-shoes!” cried the other. “Take us home with you and let us see them!”So they went home with the Poor Man and saw for themselves the silver bolts and the golden horse-shoes.“Brothers,” the Poor Man said, “if either of you have time I wish you’d take these things and return them to the Beggar.”They both said, no, no, they hadn’t time, but they would like to know where the Beggar lived.“He said I could always find him,” the Poor Man said, “by following the tracks of his cart.”“The tracks of his cart!” echoed the other two. “Show us the tracks of his cart!”They went to the shed where the cart had been and followed the tracks out to the road. Even on the road they were easy to see for besides being wider than any other cart tracks they shone white like glistening silver.“H’m! H’m!” murmured the two rich brothers.“You don’t think either of you have time to follow them to the Beggar’s house?” the Poor Man said.“No! Of course not! Of course not!” they both answered.But in his heart each had already decided to go at once and see for himself what kind of a Beggar this was who had silver bolts in his cart and golden shoes on his horse.The oldest brother went the very next day driving a new wagon and a fine horse. The silver tracks led through woods and fields and over hills. They came at last to a river which was spanned by a wooden bridge. It was cunningly constructed of timbers beautifully hewn. The rich man had never seen such wood used on a bridge.By the roadside beyond the bridge there was a pigsty with one trough full of corn and another full of water. There were two sows in the sty and they were fighting each other and tearing at each other and paying no attention whatever to all the good food in the trough.A little farther on there was another river and over it another wonderful bridge, this one made entirely of stone.Beyond it the rich man came to a meadow where there was a hayrick around which two angry bulls were chasing each other and goring each other until the blood spurted.“I wonder some one doesn’t stop them!” the rich man thought to himself.The next river had an iron bridge, more beautiful than the rich man had ever supposed an iron bridge could be.Beyond the iron bridge there was a field and a bush and two angry rams that were chasing each other around the bush and fighting. Their horns cracked as they met and their hides were torn and bleeding where they had gored each other.“I never saw so many angry fighting animals!” the rich man thought to himself.The next bridge glowed in the sun like the embers of a fire for it was built entirely of shining copper—copper rivets, copper plates, copper beams, nothing but copper.The silver tracks led over the copper bridge into a broad valley. By the roadside there was a high crossbar from which depended heavy cuts of meat—lamb and pork and veal. Two large bitch dogs were jumping at the meat and then snarling and snapping at each other.The next bridge was the loveliest of them all for it was built of white gleaming silver.The rich man climbed down from his wagon and examined it closely.“It would be worth a man’s while to carry home a piece of this bridge!” he muttered to himself.He tried the rivets, he shook the railing. At last he found four loose bolts which he was able to pull out. The four together were so heavy that he was scarcely able to lift them. He looked cautiously about and when he saw that no one was looking, he slipped them one by one into the bottom of his wagon and covered them with straw. Then he turned his horse’s head and drove home as fast as he could. It was midnight when he got there and nobody about to spy on him as he hid the silver bolts in the hay.The next day when he went out alone to gloat over his treasure he found instead of four heavy silver bolts four pieces of wood!So that’s what the rich brother got for following the silver tracks.A day or two later without saying a word to any one, the second brother decided that he would follow the silver tracks and have a look at the strange Beggar whose cart had silver bolts and whose wheezy horse had golden shoes.“Perhaps if I keep my wits about me I’ll be able to pick up a few golden horse-shoes. Not many boys inherit golden horse-shoes from their fathers!”Well, the second brother went over exactly the same route and saw exactly the same things. He crossed all those wonderful bridges that his brother had crossed—the wooden bridge, the stone bridge, the iron bridge, the copper bridge, the silver bridge, and he saw all those angry animals still trying to gore each other to death.He didn’t stop at the silver bridge for he thought to himself:“Perhaps the next bridge will be golden and if it is I may be able to break off a piece of it!”Beyond the silver bridge was another broad valley and the second brother saw many strange sights as he drove through. There was a man standing alone in a field and trying to beat off a flock of ravens that were swooping down and pecking at his eyes. Near him was an old man with snow-white hair who was making loud outcries to heaven praying to be delivered from the two oxen who were munching at his white hair as though it were so much hay. They ate great wisps of it and the more they ate the more grew out.There was an apple-tree heavily laden with ripe fruit and a hungry man forever reaching up and plucking an apple. The apples were apples of Sodom and always as the hungry man raised each new one to his mouth it turned to ashes.In another place a thirsty man was reaching with a dipper into a well and always, just as he was about to scoop up some water, the well moved away from under the dipper.“What a strange country this is!” thought the second brother as he drove on.At last he reached the next bridge and sure enough it was shining gold! Every part of it—bolts and beams and pillars, all were gold. In great excitement the second brother climbed down from his wagon and began pulling and wrenching at various parts of the bridge hoping to find some loose pieces which he could break off. At last he succeeded in pulling out four long bolts which were so heavy he could scarcely lift them. After looking about in all directions to make sure that no one saw him, he put them into his wagon and covered them up with straw. Then he drove homewards as fast as he could.“Ha! Ha!” he chuckled as he hid the golden bolts in the barn. “My son will now be a richer man than my brother!”He could scarcely sleep with thinking of his golden treasure and at the first light of morning he slipped out to the barn. Imagine his rage when he found in the straw four bolts of wood!So that was all the second brother got for following the silver tracks.Well, years went by and the Poor Man worked day after day and all day and often far into the night. Some of his children died and the rest grew up and went out into the world and married and made homes of their own. Then at last his good wife died and the time came when the Poor Man was old and all alone in the world.One night as he sat on his doorstep thinking of his wife and of his children when they were little and of all the years he had worked for them to keep them fed and clothed, he happened to remember the Beggar and the promise he had made to visit him sometime.“And to think of all the years I’ve kept his golden horse-shoes and his silver bolts! Well, he’ll forgive me, I know,” thought the Poor Man, “for he’ll understand that I’ve always been too busy up to this time ever to follow the tracks of his cart. I wonder are they still there.”He went out to the roadside and peered down and how it happened I don’t know, but to his dim eyes at least there were the silver tracks as clear as ever.“Good!” cried the Poor Man. “To-morrow morning bright and early I’ll hitch up the donkey and visit my old friend, the Beggar!”So the next day he took out the silver bolts and the golden horse-shoes from the place where he had kept them hidden all these years and he put them in a bag. Then he hitched his old donkey to his old cart and started out to follow the silver tracks to the Beggar’s home.Well, he saw just exactly the same things that his brothers had seen those many years before: all those terrible fighting animals and all those unfortunate men.“I’ll have to remember and ask the Beggar what ails all these creatures,” he thought to himself.Like his brothers he passed over the wooden bridge and the stone bridge and the iron bridge and the copper bridge and the silver bridge and even the golden bridge. Beyond the golden bridge he came to a Garden that was surrounded by a high wall of diamonds and rubies and sapphires and all kinds of precious stones that blazed as brightly as the sun itself. The silver tracks turned in at the garden gate which was locked.The poor man climbed down from his cart, unhitched the donkey, and set him out to graze on the tender grass that grew by the wayside.Then he took the bag that held the golden horse-shoes and the silver bolts and he went to the garden gate. It was a very wonderful gate of beaten gold set with precious stones. For a moment the Poor Man wondered if he dare knock at so rich a gate, then he remembered that his friend the Beggar was inside and he knew that he would be made welcome.It was the Beggar himself who opened the gate. When he saw the Poor Man he smiled and held out his hands and said:“Welcome, dear friend! I have been waiting for you all these years! Come in and I will show you my Garden.”So the Poor Man went inside. And first of all he gave the Beggar his golden horse-shoes and his silver bolts.“Forgive me,” he said, “for keeping them so long, but I’ve never had time until now to return them.”The Beggar smiled.“I knew, dear friend, that they were safe with you and that you would bring them some day.”Then the Beggar put his arm over the Poor Man’s shoulder and led him through the Garden showing him the wonderful golden fruits and beautiful flowers. They sat them down beside a fountain of crystal water and while they listened to the songs of glorious birds they talked together and the Poor Man asked about the strange things he had seen along the road.“All those animals,” the Beggar said, “were once human beings who instead of fearing God and being kind to their fellowmen passed all their time fighting and cheating and cursing. The two sows were two sisters-in-law who hated each other bitterly. The two bulls and the two rams were neighbors who fought for years and years over the boundary lines of their farms and now they keep on fighting through eternity. The two bitches were two sisters who fought until they died over the inheritance left them by their father. The old man whose hair the oxen eat was a farmer who always pastured his cattle on his neighbors’ fields. Now he has his reward. The man at whose eyes the ravens peck was an ungrateful son who mistreated his parents. The man with the awful thirst that can never be quenched was a drunkard, and the one at whose lips the apples turn to ashes was a glutton.”So they talked on together, the Poor Man and the Beggar, until it was late afternoon and the Beggar said:“And now, dear friend, you will sup with me as I once supped with you.”“Thank you,” the Poor Man said, “I will. But let me first go out and see how my donkey is.”“Very well,” the Beggar said, “go. But be sure to come back for I shall be waiting for you.”So the Poor Man went out the garden gate and looked for his donkey. But the donkey was gone.“He must have started home,” the Poor Man thought. “I’ll hurry and overtake him.”So he started back afoot the way he had come. He went on and on but saw no donkey. He crossed the golden bridge and the silver bridge and the copper bridge and the iron bridge and the stone bridge and last of all the wooden bridge, but still there was no donkey.“He must have got all the way home,” he thought.When the Poor Man reached his native village things looked different. Houses that he remembered had disappeared and others had taken their places. He couldn’t find his own little house at all. He asked the people he met and they knew nothing about it. And they knew nothing about him, either, not even his name. And nobody even knew about his sons. At last he did meet one old man who remembered the family name and who told him that many years before the last of the sons had gone to another village to live.“There’s no place here for me,” the Poor Man thought. “I better go back to my friend the Beggar and stay with him. No one else wants me.”So once again he followed the silver tracks all that long way over all those bridges and when at last he reached the garden gate he was very tired, for he was old and feeble now. It was all he could do to give one faint little knock. But the Beggar heard him and came running to let him in. And when he saw him, how tired he was and how feeble, he put his arm around him and helped him into the Garden and he said:“You shall stay with me now forever and we shall be very happy together.”And the Poor Man when he looked in the Beggar’s face to thank him saw that he was not a beggar at all but the Blessed Christ Himself. And then he knew that he was in the Garden of Paradise.
An Ass congratulated a Horse on being so ungrudgingly and carefully provided for, while he himself had scarcely enough to eat and not even that without hard work. But when war broke out, a heavily armed soldier mounted the Horse, and riding him to the charge, rushed into the very midst of the enemy. The Horse was wounded and fell dead on the battlefield. Then the Ass, seeing all these things, changed his mind, and commiserated the Horse.
Several hundreds of years ago there lived in a forest a wood- cutter and his wife and children. He was very poor, having only his axe to depend upon, and two mules to carry the wood he cut to the neighbouring town; but he worked hard, and was always out of bed by five o’clock, summer and winter.This went on for twenty years, and though his sons were now grown up, and went with their father to the forest, everything seemed to go against them, and they remained as poor as ever. In the end the wood-cutter lost heart, and said to himself:‘What is the good of working like this if I never am a penny the richer at the end? I shall go to the forest no more! And perhaps, if I take to my bed, and do not run after Fortune, one day she may come to me.’So the next morning he did not get up, and when six o’clock struck, his wife, who had been cleaning the house, went to see what was the matter.‘Are you ill?’ she asked wonderingly, surprised at not finding him dressed. ‘The cock has crowed ever so often. It is high time for you to get up.’‘Why should I get up?’ asked the man, without moving.‘Why? to go to the forest, of course.’‘Yes; and when I have toiled all day I hardly earn enough to give us one meal.’‘But what can we do, my poor husband?’ said she. ‘It is just a trick of Fortune’s, who would never smile upon us.’‘Well, I have had my fill of Fortune’s tricks,’ cried he. ‘If she wants me she can find me here. But I have done with the wood for ever.’‘My dear husband, grief has driven you mad! Do you think Fortune will come to anybody who does not go after her? Dress yourself, and saddle the mules, and begin your work. Do you know that there is not a morsel of bread in the house?’‘I don’t care if there isn’t, and I am not going to the forest. It is no use your talking; nothing will make me change my mind.’The distracted wife begged and implored in vain; her husband persisted in staying in bed, and at last, in despair, she left him and went back to her work.An hour or two later a man from the nearest village knocked at her door, and when she opened it, he said to her: ‘Good-morning, mother. I have got a job to do, and I want to know if your husband will lend me your mules, as I see he is not using them, and can lend me a hand himself?’‘He is upstairs; you had better ask him,’ answered the woman. And the man went up, and repeated his request.‘I am sorry, neighbour, but I have sworn not to leave my bed, and nothing will make me break my vow.’‘Well, then, will you lend me your two mules? I will pay you something for them.’‘Certainly, neighbour. Take them and welcome.’So the man left the house, and leading the mules from the stable, placed two sacks on their back, and drove them to a field where he had found a hidden treasure. He filled the sacks with the money, though he knew perfectly well that it belonged to the sultan, and was driving them quietly home again, when he saw two soldiers coming along the road. Now the man was aware that if he was caught he would be condemned to death, so he fled back into the forest. The mules, left to themselves, took the path that led to their master’s stable.The wood-cutter’s wife was looking out of the window when the mules drew up before the door, so heavily laden that they almost sank under their burdens. She lost no time in calling her husband, who was still lying in bed.‘Quick! quick! get up as fast as you can. Our two mules have returned with sacks on their backs, so heavily laden with something or other that the poor beasts can hardly stand up.’‘Wife, I have told you a dozen times already that I am not going to get up. Why can’t you leave me in peace?’As she found she could get no help from her husband the woman took a large knife and cut the cords which bound the sacks on to the animals’ backs. They fell at once to the ground, and out poured a rain of gold pieces, till the little court-yard shone like the sun.‘A treasure!’ gasped the woman, as soon as she could speak from surprise. ‘A treasure!’ And she ran off to tell her husband.‘Get up! get up!’ she cried. ‘You were quite right not to go to the forest, and to await Fortune in your bed; she has come at last! Our mules have returned home laden with all the gold in the world, and it is now lying in the court. No one in the whole country can be as rich as we are!’In an instant the wood-cutter was on his feet, and running to the court, where he paused dazzled by the glitter of the coins which lay around him.‘You see, my dear wife, that I was right,’ he said at last. ‘Fortune is so capricious, you can never count on her. Run after her, and she is sure to fly from you; stay still, and she is sure to come.’
Far in the interior of the country lay an old baronial hall, and in it lived an old proprietor, who had two sons, which two young men thought themselves too clever by half. They wanted to go out and woo the king’s daughter; for the maiden in question had publicly announced that she would choose for her husband that youth who could arrange his words best.So these two geniuses prepared themselves a full week for the wooing—this was the longest time that could be granted them; but it was enough, for they had had much preparatory information, and everybody knows how useful that is. One of them knew the whole Latin dictionary by heart, and three whole years of the daily paper of the little town into the bargain; and so well, indeed, that he could repeat it all either backwards or forwards, just as he chose. The other was deeply read in the corporation laws, and knew by heart what every corporation ought to know; and accordingly he thought he could talk of affairs of state, and put his spoke in the wheel in the council. And he knew one thing more: he could embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and with arabesques, for he was a tasty, light-fingered fellow.“I shall win the princess!” So cried both of them. Therefore their old papa gave to each a handsome horse. The youth who knew the dictionary and newspaper by heart had a black horse, and he who knew all about the corporation laws received a milk-white steed. Then they rubbed the corners of their mouths with fish-oil, so that they might become very smooth and glib. All the servants stood below in the courtyard, and looked on while they mounted their horses; and just by chance the third son came up. For the proprietor had really three sons, though nobody counted the third with his brothers, because he was not so learned as they, and indeed he was generally known as “Jack the Dullard.”“Hallo!” said Jack the Dullard, “where are you going? I declare you have put on your Sunday clothes!”“We’re going to the king’s court, as suitors to the king’s daughter. Don’t you know the announcement that has been made all through the country?” And they told him all about it.“My word! I’ll be in it too!” cried Jack the Dullard; and his two brothers burst out laughing at him, and rode away.“Father dear,” said Jack, “I must have a horse too. I do feel so desperately inclined to marry! If she accepts me, she accepts me; and if she won’t have me, I’ll have her; but she shall be mine!”“Don’t talk nonsense,” replied the old gentleman. “You shall have no horse from me. You don’t know how to speak—you can’t arrange your words. Your brothers are very different fellows from you.”“Well,” quoth Jack the Dullard, “if I can’t have a horse, I’ll take the billy-goat, who belongs to me, and he can carry me very well!”And so said, so done. He mounted the billy-goat, pressed his heels into its sides, and gallopped down the high street like a hurricane.“Hei, houp! that was a ride! Here I come!” shouted Jack the Dullard, and he sang till his voice echoed far and wide.But his brothers rode slowly on in advance of him. They spoke not a word, for they were thinking about all the fine extempore speeches they would have to bring out, and all these had to be cleverly prepared beforehand.“Hallo!” shouted Jack the Dullard. “Here am I! Look what I have found on the high-road.” And he showed them what it was, and it was a dead crow.“Dullard!” exclaimed the brothers, “what are you going to do with that?”“With the crow? why, I am going to give it to the princess.”“Yes, do so,” said they; and they laughed, and rode on.“Hallo, here I am again! Just see what I have found now: you don’t find that on the high-road every day!”And the brothers turned round to see what he could have found now.“Dullard!” they cried, “that is only an old wooden shoe, and the upper part is missing into the bargain; are you going to give that also to the princess?”“Most certainly I shall,” replied Jack the Dullard; and again the brothers laughed and rode on, and thus they got far in advance of him; but–“Hallo—hop rara!” and there was Jack the Dullard again. “It is getting better and better,” he cried. “Hurrah! it is quite famous.”“Why, what have you found this time?” inquired the brothers.“Oh,” said Jack the Dullard, “I can hardly tell you. How glad the princess will be!”“Bah!” said the brothers; “that is nothing but clay out of the ditch.”“Yes, certainly it is,” said Jack the Dullard; “and clay of the finest sort. See, it is so wet, it runs through one’s fingers.” And he filled his pocket with the clay.But his brothers gallopped on till the sparks flew, and consequently they arrived a full hour earlier at the town-gate than could Jack. Now at the gate each suitor was provided with a number, and all were placed in rows immediately on their arrival, six in each row, and so closely packed together that they could not move their arms; and that was a prudent arrangement, for they would certainly have come to blows, had they been able, merely because one of them stood before the other.All the inhabitants of the country round about stood in great crowds around the castle, almost under the very windows, to see the princess receive the suitors; and as each stepped into the hall, his power of speech seemed to desert him, like the light of a candle that is blown out. Then the princess would say, “He is of no use! away with him out of the hall!”At last the turn came for that brother who knew the dictionary by heart; but he did not know it now; he had absolutely forgotten it altogether; and the boards seemed to re-echo with his footsteps, and the ceiling of the hall was made of looking-glass, so that he saw himself standing on his head; and at the window stood three clerks and a head clerk, and every one of them was writing down every single word that was uttered, so that it might be printed in the newspapers, and sold for a penny at the street corners. It was a terrible ordeal, and they had moreover made such a fire in the stove, that the room seemed quite red hot.“It is dreadfully hot here!” observed the first brother.“Yes,” replied the princess, “my father is going to roast young pullets to-day.”“Baa!” there he stood like a baa-lamb. He had not been prepared for a speech of this kind; and had not a word to say, though he intended to say something witty. “Baa!”“He is of no use!” said the princess. “Away with him.”And he was obliged to go accordingly. And now the second brother came in.“It is terribly warm here!” he observed.“Yes, we’re roasting pullets to-day,” replied the princess.“What—what were you—were you pleased to ob——” stammered he—and all the clerks wrote down, “pleased to ob——”“He is of no use!” said the princess. “Away with him!”Now came the turn of Jack the Dullard. He rode into the hall on his goat.“Well, it’s most abominably hot here.”“Yes, because I’m roasting young pullets,” replied the princess.“Ah, that’s lucky!” exclaimed Jack the Dullard, “for I suppose you’ll let me roast my crow at the same time?”“With the greatest pleasure,” said the princess. “But have you anything you can roast it in? for I have neither pot nor pan.”“Certainly I have!” said Jack. “Here’s a cooking utensil with a tin handle.” And he brought out the old wooden shoe, and put the crow into it.“Well, that is a famous dish!” said the princess. “But what shall we do for sauce?”“Oh, I have that in my pocket,” said Jack: “I have so much of it, that I can afford to throw some away;” and he poured some of the clay out of his pocket.“I like that!” said the princess. “You can give an answer, and you have something to say for yourself, and so you shall be my husband. But are you aware that every word we speak is being taken down, and will be published in the paper to-morrow? Look yonder, and you will see in every window three clerks and a head clerk; and the old head clerk is the worst of all, for he can’t understand anything.” But she only said this to frighten Jack the Dullard: and the clerks gave a great crow of delight, and each one spurted a blot out of his pen on to the floor.“Oh, those are the gentlemen, are they?” said Jack; “then I will give the best I have to the head clerk.” And he turned out his pockets, and flung the wet clay full in the head clerk’s face.“That was very cleverly done,” observed the princess. “I could not have done that; but I shall learn in time.”And accordingly Jack the Dullard was made a king, and received a crown and a wife, and sat upon a throne. And this report we have wet from the press of the head clerk and the corporation of printers—but they are not to be depended upon in the least!
The compass, with its needle always pointing to the North, is quite a common thing, and no one thinks that it is remarkable now, though when it was first invented it must have been a wonder.Now long ago in China, there was a still more wonderful invention called the shinansha. This was a kind of chariot with the figure of a man on it always pointing to the South. No matter how the chariot was placed the figure always wheeled about and pointed to the South.This curious instrument was invented by Kotei, one of the three Chinese Emperors of the Mythological age. Kotei was the son of the Emperor Yuhi. Before he was born his mother had a vision which foretold that her son would be a great man.One summer evening she went out to walk in the meadows to seek the cool breezes which blow at the end of the day and to gaze with pleasure at the star-lit heavens above her. As she looked at the North Star, strange to relate, it shot forth vivid flashes of lightning in every direction. Soon after this her son Kotei came into the world.Kotei in time grew to manhood and succeeded his father the Emperor Yuhi. His early reign was greatly troubled by the rebel Shiyu. This rebel wanted to make himself King, and many were the battles which he fought to this end. Shiyu was a wicked magician, his head was made of iron, and there was no man that could conquer him.At last Kotei declared war against the rebel and led his army to battle, and the two armies met on a plain called Takuroku. The Emperor boldly attacked the enemy, but the magician brought down a dense fog upon the battlefield, and while the royal army were wandering about in confusion, trying to find their way, Shiyu retreated with his troops, laughing at having fooled the royal army.No matter however strong and brave the Emperor’s soldiers were, the rebel with his magic could always escape in the end.Kotei returned to his Palace, and thought and pondered deeply as to how he should conquer the magician, for he was determined not to give up yet. After a long time he invented the shinansha with the figure of a man always pointing South, for there were no compasses in those days. With this instrument to show him the way he need not fear the dense fogs raised up by the magician to confound his men.Kotei again declared war against Shiyu. He placed the shinansha in front of his army and led the way to the battlefield.The battle began in earnest. The rebel was being driven backward by the royal troops when he again resorted to magic, and upon his saying some strange words in a loud voice, immediately a dense fog came down upon the battlefield.But this time no soldier minded the fog, not one was confused. Kotei by pointing to the shinansha could find his way and directed the army without a single mistake. He closely pursued the rebel army and drove them backward till they came to a big river. This river Kotei and his men found was swollen by the floods and impossible to cross.Shiyu by using his magic art quickly passed over with his army and shut himself up in a fortress on the opposite bank.When Kotei found his march checked he was wild with disappointment, for he had very nearly overtaken the rebel when the river stopped him.He could do nothing, for there were no boats in those days, so the Emperor ordered his tent to be pitched in the pleasantest spot that the place afforded.One day he stepped forth from his tent and after walking about for a short time he came to a pond. Here he sat down on the bank and was lost in thought.It was autumn. The trees growing along the edge of the water were shedding their leaves, which floated hither and thither on the surface of the pond. By and by, Kotei’s attention was attracted to a spider on the brink of the water. The little insect was trying to get on to one of the floating leaves near by. It did so at last, and was soon floating over the water to the other side of the pond.This little incident made the clever Emperor think that he might try to make something that could carry himself and his men over the river in the same way that the leaf had carried over the spider. He set to work and persevered till he invented the first boat. When he found that it was a success he set all his men to make more, and in time there were enough boats for the whole army.Kotei now took his army across the river, and attacked Shiyu’s headquarters. He gained a complete victory, and so put an end to the war which had troubled his country for so long.This wise and good Emperor did not rest till he had secured peace and prosperity throughout his whole land. He was beloved by his subjects, who now enjoyed their happiness of peace for many long years under him. He spent a great deal of time in making inventions which would benefit his people, and he succeeded in many besides the boat and the South Pointing shinansha.He had reigned about a hundred years when one day, as Kotei was looking upwards, the sky became suddenly red, and something came glittering like gold towards the earth. As it came nearer Kotei saw that it was a great Dragon. The Dragon approached and bowed down its head before the Emperor. The Empress and the courtiers were so frightened that they ran away screaming.“He mounted the dragon.” Illustration by Kakuzo Fujiyama, published in The Japanese Fairy Book by Yei Theodora Ozaki (1903), E.P. DuttonBut the Emperor only smiled and called to them to stop, and said:“Do not be afraid. This is a messenger from Heaven. My time here is finished!” He then mounted the Dragon, which began to ascend towards the sky.When the Empress and the courtiers saw this they all cried out together:“Wait a moment! We wish to come too.” And they all ran and caught hold of the Dragon’s beard and tried to mount him.But it was impossible for so many people to ride on the Dragon. Several of them hung on to the creature’s beard so that when it tried to mount the hair was pulled out and they fell to the ground.Meanwhile the Empress and a few of the courtiers were safely seated on the Dragon’s back. The Dragon flew up so high in the heavens that in a short time the inmates of the Palace, who had been left behind disappointed, could see them no more.After some time a bow and an arrow dropped to the earth in the courtyard of the Palace. They were recognized as having belonged to the Emperor Kotei. The courtiers took them up carefully and preserved them as sacred relics in the Palace.
O-way-way-ham-by-yoh, the meaning of which you already know, an Indian man and woman had two daughters, Juanita and Marianita. Juanita was older than Marianita, so whenever their father and mother went to a fiesta – that is, a kind of picnic and dance – they always took Juanita and left Marianita at home with the cat.One day the father and mother and Juanita went to fiesta to stay all day and all night. That afternoon when Marianita was cutting up meat to make a stew for her supper, the cat sat down beside her and begged for some of the meat. She gave him some; then she got him some water; she stroked his fur; and she did all sorts of nice things for him.That evening when it began to grow dark Marianita was afraid; for there was no one in the house with her, you know, but the cat.“Don’t be afraid,” said the cat, “You fasten the door and the windows tight and I will take care of you.”So Marianita locked the door and fastened the windows.That night a bear came to the door and knocked. The cat peeped out through a crack to see who was knocking. He saw the bear – for cats can see at night – so he called out: “I am sorry we cannot open the door for you, Bear-man, but we are busy making a fire.”The bear waited a while and then knocked again. But the cat said, “We are making bread now, so we cannot open the door.”The bear waited and knocked a third time. “Open the door. I have presents for you.” This time the cat called, “I am sorry but we are baking the bread and cannot open the door.”The bear grew tired of waiting. He tried to break the door down but it was too strong so he started away. Just then the cat opened the door and jumped out upon the bear’s back. It startled the bear so, that he dropped the bundle of presents. The bundle fell open and the most beautiful jewelry and dresses and fine things that Marianita had ever seen fell out.The bear was so frightened that he ran away and Marianita went out and gathered up all of the beautiful things. She dressed the cat up in a pretty little dress and some beaded shoes, that just fitted him. Then she dressed herself in a new dress and put on all of the jewels.When the father, mother and Juanita came home next morning, the cat ran out to meet them. They were surprised to see his dress and shoes and wondered what had happened. He told them, but they could not understand him. He told them again and they still did not understand, so they went into the house in a hurry to see what the cat meant. They were so pleased to see Marianita looking so fine that they hugged her up tight.“Where did you get these lovely things?” And Marianita told them all about the bear.The next time the Indians had a fiesta, Juanita let Marianita go with their father and mother. She wanted to stay at home, so that the bear could bring her some pretty things.That afternoon, when Juanita was cutting up meat for her stew, the cat sat beside her and begged for some of the meat; but Juanita would not give him any. Instead she struck at the cat with her knife and treated him mean.The cat climbed up on the window and went to sleep. When it grew dark and Juanita began to feel afraid at being all alone, the cat pretended to still be asleep. He did not say anything to her about the door and windows and Juanita did not think to fasten them.That night when the bear came to knock on the door, he found the door unlocked, so he walked right into the house. Juanita thought he had come to bring her some fine clothes, so she said, “Good-evening, Bear-man, won’t you have a seat?” and the bear sat down beside her.“What makes your feet so big, Bear-man?”“To walk the faster, little one.”“Well, what makes your nose so long?”“To scent the keener, little girl.”“And what makes your ears so big?”“To hear the better, my dear.”“What makes your eyes so bright?”“To see the farther.”“What makes your teeth so long?”“To eat you up.”And the bear ran away with Juanita to eat her up.But when the cat saw how Marianita grieved for her sister, he ran to the Bear’s den; jumped on the back of the Bear’s head; scratched out his eyes and took Juanita back home again.Author Note: San Juan Pueblo
Author’s note: This story is from the Isle of RugenThere was once a farmer who was master of one of the little black dwarfs that are the blacksmiths and armourers, and he got him in a very curious way. On the road leading to this farmer’s ground there stood a stone cross, and every morning as he went to his work he used to stop and kneel down before this cross, and pray for some minutes.On one of these occasions he noticed on the cross a pretty, bright insect, of such a brilliant hue that he could not recollect having ever before seen the like in an insect. He wondered greatly at this, but still he did not disturb it. The insect did not remain long quiet, but ran without ceasing backwards and forwards upon the cross, as if it was in pain and wanted to get away.Next morning the farmer again saw the very same insect, and again it was running to and fro in the same state of uneasiness. The farmer began now to have some suspicions about it, and thought to himself—“Would this now be one of the little black enchanters? It runs about just like one that has an evil conscience, as one that would, but cannot, get away.”A variety of thoughts and conjectures passed through his mind, and he remembered what he had often heard from his father and other old people, that when any of the underground people chance to touch anything holy they are held fast and cannot quit the spot, and so they are extremely careful to avoid all such things.“But,” thought he, “you may even be something else, and I should, perhaps, be committing a sin in taking the little insect away.”So he let it stay where it was.When, however, he twice again found it in the same place, and still running about with the same signs of uneasiness, he said—“No, it is not all right with it, so now, in the name of God.”He made a grasp at the insect, which resisted and clung fast to the stone; but he held it tight, and tore it away by main force, and lo! then he found he had, by the top of the head, a little ugly black chap, about six inches long, screeching and kicking at a furious rate.The farmer was greatly astounded at this sudden transformation. Still he held his prize fast, and kept calling to him, while he administered to him a few smart slaps—“Be quiet, be quiet, my little man! If crying was to do the business, we might look for heroes in swaddling-clothes. We’ll just take you with us a bit, and see what you are good for.”The little fellow trembled and shook in every limb, and then began to whimper most piteously, and begged of the farmer to let him go.“No, my lad,” replied the farmer, “I will not let you go till you tell me who you are, and how you came here, and what trade you know that enables you to earn your bread in the world.”At this the little man grinned and shook his head, but said not a word in reply, only begging and praying the more to get loose. The farmer thought he must now entreat him if he would coax any information out of him. But it was all to no purpose. He then adopted the contrary method, and whipped and slashed him, but just to as little effect. The little black thing remained as dumb as the grave, for this species is the most malicious and obstinate of all the underground folk.The farmer now got angry, and said—“Do but be quiet, my child. I should be a fool to put myself into a passion with such a little brat. Never fear, I shall soon make you tame enough.”So saying, he ran home with him, and clapped him into a black sooty iron pot, and put the iron lid upon it, and laid on the top of the lid a great heavy stone. Then he set the pot in a dark, cold room, and as he was going out, said to him—“Stay there, now, and freeze till you are black! I’ll engage that at last you will answer me civilly.”Twice a week the farmer went regularly into the room and asked his little black captive if he would answer him now, but the little one still obstinately persisted in his silence. The farmer had, without success, pursued this course for six weeks, at the end of which time his prisoner at last gave up. One day, as the farmer was opening the room door, of his own accord he asked him to come and take him out of his dirty, gloomy dungeon, promising that he would now cheerfully do all that was wanted of him.The farmer first ordered him to tell him his history. The black one replied—“My dear friend, you know it just as well as I do, or else you never would have had me here. You see I happened by chance to come too near the cross, a thing we little people may not do, and then I was held fast, and obliged instantly to let my body become visible. In order that people might not recognise me, I turned myself into an insect. But you found me out. When we get fastened to holy or consecrated things we can never get away from them unless a man takes us off. That, however, does not happen without plague and annoyance to us; though, indeed, to say the truth, the staying fastened there is not over pleasant. So I struggled against you too, for we have a natural aversion to let ourselves be taken in a man’s hand.”“Ho, ho! is that the tune with you?” cried the farmer. “You have a natural aversion have you? Believe me, my sooty friend, I have just the same for you, and so you shall be away without a moment’s delay, and we will lose no time in making our bargain with each other. But you must first make me some present.”“What you will you have only to ask,” said the little one, “silver and gold, and precious stones, and costly furniture—all shall be thine in less than an instant.”“Silver and gold, and precious stones, and all such glittering fine things, will I none,” said the farmer. “They have turned the heart and broken the neck of many a one before now, and few are they whose lives they make happy. I know that you are handy smiths, and have many a strange thing with you that other smiths know nothing about. So, come now, swear to me that you will make me an iron plough, such that the smallest foal may be able to draw it without being tired, and then run off with you as fast as your legs will carry you.” So the black swore, and then the farmer cried out—“Now, in the name of God. There you are at liberty,” and the little one vanished like lightning.Next morning, before the sun was up, there stood in the farmer’s yard a new iron plough, and he yoked his dog, Water, to it; and though it was of the size of an ordinary plough, Water drew it with ease through the heaviest clayland, and it tore up prodigious furrows. The farmer used this plough for many years, and the smallest foal or the leanest little horse could draw it through the ground, to the amazement of every one who beheld it, without turning a single hair.This plough made a rich man of the farmer, for it cost him no horse-flesh, and he led a cheerful and contented life by means of it.Hereby we may see that moderation holds out the longest, and that it is not good to covet too much.
Pond Cove, Maine, is haunted by a light that on a certain evening, every summer, rises a mile out at sea, drifts to a spot on shore, then whirls with a buzz and a glare to an old house, where it vanishes. Its first appearance was simultaneous with the departure of Jack Welch, a fisherman. He was seen one evening at work on his boat, but in the morning he was gone, nor has he since shown himself in the flesh.On the tenth anniversary of this event three fishermen were hurrying up the bay, hoping to reach home before dark, for they dreaded that uncanny light, but a fog came in and it was late before they reached the wharf. As they were tying their boat a channel seemed to open through the mist, and along that path from the deep came a ball of pallid flame with the rush of a meteor. There was one of the men who cowered at the bottom of the boat with ashen face and shaking limbs, and did not watch the light, even though it shot above his head, played through the rigging, and after a wide sweep went shoreward and settled on his house. Next day one of his comrades called for him, but Tom Wright was gone, gone, his wife said, before the day broke. Like Jack Welch’s disappearance, this departure was unexplained, and in time he was given up for dead.Twenty years had passed, when Wright’s presumptive widow was startled by the receipt of a letter in a weak, trembling hand, signed with her husband’s name. It was written on his death-bed, in a distant place, and held a confession. Before their marriage, Jack Welch had been a suitor for her hand, and had been the favored of the two. To remove his rival and prosper in his place, Wright stole upon the other at his work, killed him, took his body to sea, and threw it overboard. Since that time the dead man had pursued him, and he was glad that the end of his days was come. But, though Tom Wright is no more, his victim’s light comes yearly from the sea, above the spot where his body sank, floats to the scene of the murder on the shore, then flits to the house where the assassin lived and for years simulated the content that comes of wedded life. MOGG MEGONEHapless daughter of a renegade is Ruth Bonython. Her father is as unfair to his friends as to his enemies, but to neither of them so merciless as to Ruth. Although he knows that she loves Master Scammon—in spite of his desertion and would rather die than wed another, he has promised her to Mogg Megone, the chief who rules the Indians at the Saco mouth. He, blundering savage, fancies that he sees to the bottom of her grief, and one day, while urging his suit, he opens his blanket and shows the scalp of Scammon, to prove that he has avenged her. She looks in horror, but when he flings the bloody trophy at her feet she baptizes it with a forgiving tear. What villainy may this lead to? Ah, none for him, for Bonython now steps in and plies him with flattery and drink, gaining from the chief, at last, his signature—the bow totem—to a transfer of the land for which he is willing to sell his daughter. Ruth, maddened at her father’s meanness and the Indian’s brutality, rushes on the imbruted savage, grasps from his belt the knife that has slain her lover, cleaves his heart in twain, and flies into the wood, leaving Bonython stupid with amazement.Father Rasles, in his chapel at Norridgewock, is affecting his Indian converts against the Puritans, who settled to the southward of him fifty years before. To him comes a woman with torn garments and frightened face. Her dead mother stood before her last night, she says, and looked at her reprovingly, for she had killed Mogg Megone. The priest starts back in wrath, for Mogg was a hopeful agent of the faith, and bids her go, for she can ask no pardon. Brooding within his chapel, then, he is startled by the sound of shot and hum of arrows. Harmon and Moulton are advancing with their men and crying, “Down with the beast of Rome! Death to the Babylonish dog!” Ruth, knowing not what this new misfortune may mean, runs from the church and disappears.Some days later, old Baron Castine, going to Norridgewock to bury and revenge the dead, finds a woman seated on the earth and gazing over a field strewn with ashes and with human bones. He touches her. She is cold. There has been no life for days. It is Ruth.
On the last house in the village there lay a stork’s nest. The mother stork sat in it with her four little ones, who were stretching out their heads with their pointed black bills that had not yet turned red. At a little distance, on the top of the roof, stood the father stork, bolt upright and as stiff as could be. That he might not appear quite idle while standing sentry, he had drawn one leg up under him, as is the manner of storks. One might have taken him to be carved in marble, so still did he stand.“It must look very grand for my wife to have a sentinel to guard her nest,” he thought. “They can’t know that I am her husband and will, of course, conclude that I am commanded to stand here by her nest. It looks aristocratic!”Below, in the street, a crowd of children were playing. When they chanced to catch sight of the storks, one of the boldest of the boys began to sing the old song about the stork. The others soon joined him, but each sang the words that he happened to have heard. This is one of the ways:“Stork, stork, fly away;Stand not on one leg to-day.Thy dear wife sits in the nest,To lull the little ones to rest.“There’s a halter for one,There’s a stake for another,For the third there’s a gun,And a spit for his brother!”“Only listen,” said the young storks, “to what the boys are singing. Do you hear them say we’re to be hanged and shot?”“Don’t listen to what they say; if you don’t mind, it won’t hurt you,” said the mother.But the boys went on singing, and pointed mockingly at the sentinel stork. Only one boy, whom they called Peter, said it was a shame to make game of animals, and he would not join in the singing at all.The mother stork tried to comfort her young ones. “Don’t mind them,” she said; “see how quiet your father stands on one leg there.”“But we are afraid,” said the little ones, drawing back their beaks into the nest.The children assembled again on the next day, and no sooner did they see the storks than they again began their song:“The first will be hanged,The second be hit.”“Tell us, are we to be hanged and burned?” asked the young storks.“No, no; certainly not,” replied the mother. “You are to learn to fly, and then we shall pay a visit to the frogs. They will bow to us in the water and sing ‘Croak! croak!’ and we shall eat them up, and that will be a great treat.”“And then what?” questioned the young storks.“Oh, then all the storks in the land will assemble, and the autumn sports will begin; only then one must be able to fly well, for that is very important. Whoever does not fly as he should will be pierced to death by the general’s beak, so mind that you learn well, when the drill begins.”“Yes, but then, after that, we shall be killed, as the boys say. Hark! they are singing it again.”“Attend to me and not to them,” said the mother stork. “After the great review we shall fly away to warm countries, far from here, over hills and forests. To Egypt we shall fly, where are the three-cornered houses of stone, one point of which reaches to the clouds; they are called pyramids and are older than a stork can imagine. In that same land there is a river which overflows its banks and turns the whole country into mire. We shall go into the mire and eat frogs.”“Oh! oh!” exclaimed all the youngsters.“Yes, it is indeed a delightful place. We need do nothing all day long but eat; and while we are feasting there so comfortably, in this country there is not a green leaf left on the trees. It is so cold here that the very clouds freeze in lumps or fall down in little white rags.” It was hail and snow that she meant, but she did not know how to say it better.“And will the naughty boys freeze in lumps?” asked the young storks.“No, they will not freeze in lumps, but they will come near it, and they will sit moping and cowering in gloomy rooms while you are flying about in foreign lands, amid bright flowers and warm sunshine.”Some time passed, and the nestlings had grown so large and strong that they could stand upright in the nest and look all about them. Every day the father stork came with delicious frogs, nice little snakes, and other such dainties that storks delight in. How funny it was to see the clever feats he performed to amuse them! He would lay his head right round upon his tail; and sometimes he would clatter with his beak, as if it were a little rattle; or he would tell them stories, all relating to swamps and fens.“Come, children,” said the mother stork one day, “now you must learn to fly.” And all the four young storks had to go out on the ridge of the roof. How they did totter and stagger about! They tried to balance themselves with their wings, but came very near falling to the ground.“Look at me!” said the mother. “This is the way to hold your head. And thus you must place your feet. Left! right! left! right! that’s what will help you on in the world.”Then she flew a little way, and the young ones took a clumsy little leap. Bump! plump! down they fell, for their bodies were still too heavy for them.“I will not fly,” said one of the young storks, as he crept back to the nest. “I don’t care about going to warm countries.”“Do you want to stay here and freeze when the winter comes? Will you wait till the boys come to hang, to burn, or to roast you? Well, then, I’ll call them.”“Oh, no!” cried the timid stork, hopping back to the roof with the rest.By the third day they actually began to fly a little. Then they had no doubt that they could soar or hover in the air, upborne by their wings. And this they attempted to do, but down they fell, flapping their wings as fast as they could.Again the boys came to the street, singing their song, “Storks, storks, fly home and rest.”“Shall we fly down and peck them?” asked the young ones.“No, leave them alone. Attend to me; that’s far more important. One—two—three! now we fly round to the right. One—two—three! now to the left, round the chimney. There! that was very good. That last flap with your wings and the kick with your feet were so graceful and proper that to-morrow you shall fly with me to the marsh. Several of the nicest stork families will be there with their children. Let me see that mine are the best bred of all. Carry your heads high and mind you strut about proudly, for that looks well and helps to make one respected.”“But shall we not take revenge upon the naughty boys?” asked the young storks.“No, no; let them scream away, as much as they please. You are to fly up to the clouds and away to the land of the pyramids, while they are freezing and can neither see a green leaf nor taste a sweet apple.”“But we will revenge ourselves,” they whispered one to another. And then the training began again.Among all the children down in the street the one that seemed most bent upon singing the song that made game of the storks was the boy who had begun it, and he was a little fellow hardly more than six years old. The young storks, to be sure, thought he was at least a hundred, for he was much bigger than their parents, and, besides, what did they know about the ages of either children or grown men? Their whole vengeance was to be aimed at this one boy. It was always he who began the song and persisted in mocking them. The young storks were very angry, and as they grew larger they also grew less patient under insult, and their mother was at last obliged to promise them that they might be revenged—but not until the day of their departure.“We must first see how you carry yourselves at the great review. If you do so badly that the general runs his beak through you, then the boys will be in the right—at least in one way. We must wait and see!”“Yes, you shall see!” cried all the young storks; and they took the greatest pains, practicing every day, until they flew so evenly and so lightly that it was a pleasure to see them.The autumn now set in; all the storks began to assemble, in order to start for the warm countries and leave winter behind them. And such exercises as there were! Young fledglings were set to fly over forests and villages, to see if they were equal to the long journey that was before them. So well did our young storks acquit themselves, that, as a proof of the satisfaction they had given, the mark they got was, “Remarkably well,” with a present of a frog and a snake, which they lost no time in eating.“Now,” said they, “we will be revenged.”“Yes, certainly,” said their mother; “and I have thought of a way that will surely be the fairest. I know a pond where all the little human children lie till the stork comes to take them to their parents. There lie the pretty little babies, dreaming more sweetly than they ever dream afterwards. All the parents are wishing for one of these little ones, and the children all want a sister or a brother. Now we’ll fly to the pond and bring back a baby for every child who did not sing the naughty song that made game of the storks.”“But the very naughty boy who was the first to begin the song,” cried the young storks, “what shall we do with him?”“There is a little dead child in the pond—one that has dreamed itself to death. We will bring that for him. Then he will cry because we have brought a little dead brother to him.“But that good boy,—you have not forgotten him!—the one who said it was a shame to mock at the animals; for him we will bring both a brother and a sister. And because his name is Peter, all of you shall be called Peter, too.”All was done as the mother had said; the storks were named Peter, and so they are called to this day.
Once upon a time there were a King and a Queen who had an only daughter, called Hadvor, who was fair and beautiful, and being an only child, was heir to the kingdom. The King and Queen had also a foster son, named Hermod, who was just about the same age as Hadvor, and was good-looking, as well as clever at most things. Hermod and Hadvor often played together while they were children, and liked each other so much that while they were still young they secretly plighted their troth to each other.As time went on the Queen fell sick, and suspecting that it was her last illness, sent for the King to come to her. When he came she told him that she had no long time to live, and therefore wished to ask one thing of him, which was, that if he married another wife he should promise to take no other one than the Queen of Hetland the Good. The King gave the promise, and thereafter the Queen died.Time went past, and the King, growing tired of living alone, fitted out his ship and sailed out to sea. As he sailed there came upon him so thick a mist that he altogether lost his bearings, but after long trouble he found land. There he laid his ship to, and went on shore all alone. After walking for some time he came to a forest, into which he went a little way and stopped. Then he heard sweet music from a harp, and went in the direction of the sound until he came to a clearing, and there he saw three women, one of whom sat on a golden chair, and was beautifully and grandly dressed; she held a harp in her hands, and was very sorrowful. The second was also finely dressed, but younger in appearance, and also sat on a chair, but it was not so grand as the first one’s. The third stood beside them, and was very pretty to look at; she had a green cloak over her other clothes, and it was easy to see that she was maid to the other two.After the King had looked at them for a little he went forward and saluted them. The one that sat on the golden chair asked him who he was and where he was going; and he told her all the story –how he was a king, and had lost his queen, and was now on his way to Hetland the Good, to ask the Queen of that country in marriage. She answered that fortune had contrived this wonderfully, for pirates had plundered Hetland and killed the King, and she had fled from the land in terror, and had come hither after great trouble, and she was the very person he was looking for, and the others were her daughter and maid. The King immediately asked her hand; she gladly received his proposal and accepted him at once. Thereafter they all set out, and made their way to the ship; and after that nothing is told of their voyage until the King reached his own country. There he made a great feast, and celebrated his marriage with this woman; and after that things are quiet for a time.Hermod and Hadvor took but little notice of the Queen and her daughter, but, on the other hand, Hadvor and the Queen’s maid, whose name was Olof, were very friendly, and Olof came often to visit Hadvor in her castle. Before long the King went out to war, and no sooner was he away than the Queen came to talk with Hermod, and said that she wanted him to marry her daughter. Hermod told her straight and plain that he would not do so, at which the Queen grew terribly angry, and said that in that case neither should he have Hadvor, for she would now lay this spell on him, that he should go to a desert island and there be a lion by day and a man by night. He should also think always of Hadvor, which would cause him all the more sorrow, and from this spell he should never be freed until Hadvor burned the lion’s skin, and that would not happen very soon.As soon as the Queen had finished her speech Hermod replied that he also laid a spell on her, and that was, that as soon as he was freed from her enchantments she should become a rat and her daughter a mouse, and fight with each other in the hall until he killed them with his sword.After this Hermod disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him; the Queen caused search to be made for him, but he could nowhere be found. One time, when Olof was in the castle beside Hadvor, she asked the Princess if she knew where Hermod had gone to. At this Hadvor became very sad, and said that she did not.‘I shall tell you then,’ said Olof, ‘for I know all about it. Hermod has disappeared through the wicked devices of the Queen, for she is a witch, and so is her daughter, though they have put on these beautiful forms. Because Hermod would not fall in with the Queen’s plans, and marry her daughter, she has laid a spell on him, to go on an island and be a lion by day and a man by night, and never be freed from this until you burn the lion’s skin. Besides,’ said Olof, ‘she has looked out a match for you; she has a brother in the Underworld, a three-headed Giant, whom she means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you. This is no new thing for the Queen; she took me away from my parents’ house and compelled me to serve her; but she has never done me any harm, for the green cloak I wear protects me against all mischief.Hadvor now became still sadder than before at the thought of the marriage destined for her, and entreated Olof to think of some plan to save her.‘I think,’ said Olof, ‘that your wooer will come up through the floor of the castle to you, and so you must be prepared when you hear the noise of his coming and the floor begins to open, and have at hand blazing pitch, and pour plenty of it into the opening. That will prove too much for him.’About this time the King came home from his expedition, and thought it a great blow that no one knew what had become of Hermod; but the Queen consoled him as best she could, and after a time the King thought less about his disappearance.Hadvor remained in her castle, and had made preparations to receive her wooer when he came. One night, not long after, a loud noise and rumbling was heard under the castle. Hadvor at once guessed what it was, and told her maids to be ready to help her. The noise and thundering grew louder and louder, until the floor began to open, whereupon Hadvor made them take the caldron of pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening. With that the noises grew fainter and fainter, till at last they ceased altogether.Next morning the Queen rose early, and went out to the Palace gate, and there she found her brother the Giant lying dead. She went up to him and said, ‘I pronounce this spell, that you become a beautiful prince, and that Hadvor shall be unable to say anything against the charges that I shall bring against her.’The body of the dead Giant now became that of a beautiful prince, and the Queen went in again.‘I don’t think,’ said she to the King, ‘that your daughter is as good as she is said to be. My brother came and asked her hand, and she has had him put to death. I have just found his dead body lying at the Palace gate.’The King went along with the Queen to see the body, and thought it all very strange; so beautiful a youth, he said, would have been a worthy match for Hadvor, and he would readily have agreed to their marriage. The Queen asked leave to decide what Hadvor’s punishment should be, which the King was very willing to allow, so as to escape from punishing his own daughter. The Queen’s decision was that the King should make a big grave-mound for her brother, and put Hadvor into it beside him.Olof knew all the plans of the Queen, and went to tell the Princess what had been done, whereupon Hadvor earnestly entreated her to tell her what to do.‘First and foremost,’ said Olof, ‘you must get a wide cloak to wear over your other clothes, when you are put into the mound. The Giant’s ghost will walk after you are both left together in there, and he will have two dogs along with him. He will ask you to cut pieces out of his legs to give to the dogs, but that you must not promise to do unless he tells you where Hermod has gone to, and tells you how to find him. He will then let you stand on his shoulders, so as to get out of the mound; but he means to cheat you all the same, and will catch you by the cloak to pull you back again; but you must take care to have the cloak loose on your shoulders, so that he will only get hold of that.’The mound was all ready now, and the Giant laid in it, and into it Hadvor also had to go without being allowed to make any defence. After they were both left there everything happened just as Olof had said. The prince became a Giant again, and asked Hadvor to cut the pieces out of his legs for the dogs; but she refused until he told her that Hermod was in a desert island, which she could not reach unless she took the skin off the soles of his feet and made shoes out of that; with these shoes she could travel both on land and sea. This Hadvor now did, and the Giant then let her get up on his shoulders to get out of the mound. As she sprang out he caught hold of her cloak; but she had taken care to let it lie loose on her shoulders, and so escaped.She now made her way down to the sea, to where she knew there was the shortest distance over to the island in which Hermod was. This strait she easily crossed, for the shoes kept her up. On reaching the island she found a sandy beach all along by the sea, and high cliffs above. Nor could she see any way to get up these, and so, being both sad at heart and tired with the long journey, she lay down and fell asleep. As she slept she dreamed that a tall woman came to her and said, ‘I know that you are Princess Hadvor, and are searching for Hermod. He is on this island; but it will be hard for you to get to him if you have no one to help you, for you cannot climb the cliffs by your own strength. I have therefore let down a rope, by which you will be able to climb up; and as the island is so large that you might not find Hermod’s dwelling-place so easily, I lay down this clew beside you. You need only hold the end of the thread, and the clew will run on before and show you the way. I also lay this belt beside you, to put on when you awaken; it will keep you from growing faint with hunger.’The woman now disappeared, and Hadvor woke, and saw that all her dream had been true. The rope hung down from the cliff, and the clew and belt lay beside her. The belt she put on, the rope enabled her to climb up the cliff, and the clew led her on till she came to the mouth of a cave, which was not very big. She went into the cave, and saw there a low couch, under which she crept and lay down.When evening came she heard the noise of footsteps outside, and became aware that the lion had come to the mouth of the cave, and shook itself there, after which she heard a man coming towards the couch. She was sure this was Hermod, because she heard him speaking to himself about his own condition, and calling to mind Hadvor and other things in the old days. Hadvor made no sign, but waited till he had fallen asleep, and then crept out and burned the lion’s skin, which he had left outside. Then she went back into the cave and wakened Hermod, and they had a most joyful meeting.In the morning they talked over their plans, and were most at a loss to know how to get out of the island. Hadvor told Hermod her dream, and said she suspected there was some one in the island who would be able to help them. Hermod said he knew of a Witch there, who was very ready to help anyone, and that the only plan was to go to her. So they went to the Witch’s cave, and found her there with her fifteen young sons, and asked her to help them to get to the mainland.‘There are other things easier than that,’ said she, ‘for the Giant that was buried will be waiting for you, and will attack you on the way, as he has turned himself into a big whale. I shall lend you a boat, however, and if you meet the whale and think your lives are in danger, then you can name me by name.’They thanked her greatly for her help and advice, and set out from the island, but on the way they saw a huge fish coming towards them, with great splashing and dashing of waves. They were sure of what it was, and thought they had as good reason as ever they would have to call on the Witch, and so they did. The next minute they saw coming after them another huge whale, followed by fifteen smaller ones. All of these swam past the boat and went on to meet the whale. There was a fierce battle then, and the sea became so stormy that it was not very easy to keep the boat from being filled by the waves. After this fight had gone on for some time, they saw that the sea was dyed with blood; the big whale and the fifteen smaller ones disappeared, and they got to land safe and sound.Now the story goes back to the King’s hall, where strange things had happened in the meantime. The Queen and her daughter had disappeared, but a rat and a mouse were always fighting with each other there. Ever so many people had tried to drive them away, but no one could manage it. Thus some time went on, while the King was almost beside himself with sorrow and care for the loss of his Queen, and because these monsters destroyed all mirth in the hall.One evening, however, while they all sat dull and down-hearted, in came Hermod with a sword by his side, and saluted the King, who received him with the greatest joy, as if he had come back from the dead. Before Hermod sat down, however, he went to where the rat and the mouse were fighting, and cut them in two with his sword. All were astonished then by seeing two witches lying dead on the floor of the hall.Hermod now told the whole story to the King, who was very glad to be rid of such vile creatures. Next he asked for the hand of Hadvor, which the King readily gave him, and being now an old man, gave the kingdom to him as well; and so Hermod became King.Olof married a good-looking nobleman, and that is the end of the story.
A farm-steading situated near the borders of Northumberland, a few miles from Haltwhistle, was once occupied by a family of the name of W—— K—— n. In front of the dwelling-house, and at about sixty yards’ distance, lay a stone of vast size, as ancient, for so tradition amplifies the date, as the flood. On this stone, at the dead hour of the night, might be discerned a female figure, wrapped in a grey cloak, with one of those low-crowned black bonnets, so familiar to our grandmothers, upon her head. She was incessantly knock, knock, knocking, in a fruitless endeavour to split the impenetrable rock. Duly as night came round, she occupied her lonely station, in the same low crouching attitude, and pursued the dreary obligations of her destiny, till the grey streaks of the dawn gave admonition to depart. From this, the only perceptible action in which she engaged, she obtained the name of Nelly, the Knocker. So perfectly had the inmates of the farmhouse in the lapse of time, which will reconcile sights and events the most disagreeable and alarming, become accustomed to Nelly’s undeviating nightly din, that the work went forward unimpeded and undisturbed by any apprehension accruing from her shadowy presence. Did the servant-man make his punctual resort to the neighbouring cottages, he took the liberty of scrutinising Nelly’s antiquated garb that varied not with the vicissitudes of seasons, or he pried sympathetically into the progress of her monotonous occupation, and though her pale, ghastly, contracted features gave a momentary pang of terror, it was rapidly effaced in the vortex of good fellowship into which he was speedily drawn. Did the loon venture an appointment with his mistress at the rustic style of the stack-garth, Nelly’s unwearied hammer, instead of proving a barrier, only served, by imparting a grateful sense of mutual danger, to render more intense the raptures of the hour of meeting. So apathetic were the feelings cherished towards her, and so little jealousy existed of her power to injure, that the relater of these circumstances states that on several occasions she has passed Nelly at her laborious toil, without evincing the slightest perturbation, beyond a hurried step, as she stole a glance at the inexplicable and mysterious form.An event, in the course of years, disclosed the secrets that marvellous stone shrouded, and drove poor Nelly for ever from the scene so inscrutably linked with her fate.Two of the sons of the farmer were rapidly approaching maturity, when one of them, more reflecting and shrewd than his compeers, suggested the idea of relieving Nelly from her toilsome avocation, and of taking possession of the alluring legacy to which she was evidently and urgently summoning. He proposed, conjointly with his father and brother, to blast the stone, as the most expeditious mode of gaining access to her arcana, and, this in the open daylight, in order that any tutelary protection she might be disposed to extend to her favourite haunt might, as she was a thing of darkness and the night, be effectually countervailed. Nor were their hopes frustrated, for, upon clearing away the earth and fragments that resulted from the explosion, there was revealed to their elated and admiring gaze, a precious booty of closely packed urns copiously enriched with gold. Anxious that no intimation of their good fortune should transpire, they had taken the precaution to despatch the female servant on a needless errand, and ere her return the whole treasure was efficiently and completely secured. So completely did they succeed in keeping their own counsel, and so successfully did their reputation keep pace with the cautious production of their undivulged treasures, that for many years afterwards they were never suspected of gaining any advantage from poor Nelly’s “knocking”; their improved appearance, and the somewhat imposing figure they made in their little district, being solely attributed to their superior judgment, and to the good management of their lucky farm.
The Hudson Highlands are suggestively named Bear Mountain, Sugar Loaf, Cro’ Nest, Storm King, called by the Dutch Boterberg, or Butter Hill, from its likeness to a pat of butter; Beacon Hill, where the fires blazed to tell the country that the Revolutionary war was over; Dunderberg, Mount Taurus, so called because a wild bull that had terrorized the Highlands was chased out of his haunts on this height, and was killed by falling from a cliff on an eminence to the northward, known, in consequence, as Breakneck Hill. These, with Anthony’s Nose, are the principal points of interest in the lovely and impressive panorama that unfolds before the view as the boats fly onward.Concerning the last-named elevation, the aquiline promontory that abuts on the Hudson opposite Dunderberg, it takes title from no resemblance to the human feature, but is so named because Anthony Van Corlaer, the trumpeter, who afterwards left a reason for calling the upper boundary of Manhattan Island Spuyten Duyvil Creek, killed the first sturgeon ever eaten at the foot of this mountain. It happened in this wise: By assiduous devotion to keg and flagon Anthony had begotten a nose that was the wonder and admiration of all who knew it, for its size was prodigious; in color it rivalled the carbuncle, and it shone like polished copper. As Anthony was lounging over the quarter of Peter Stuyvesant’s galley one summer morning this nose caught a ray from the sun and reflected it hissing into the water, where it killed a sturgeon that was rising beside the vessel. The fish was pulled aboard, eaten, and declared good, though the singed place savored of brimstone, and in commemoration of the event Stuyvesant dubbed the mountain that rose above his vessel Anthony’s Nose.
Early one summer morning, once upon a time, when the ground was cool and damp, a turtle crawled up out of his home in the river. He crawled along hunting things to eat. He found so many good things that he crawled farther and farther away from the river. He forgot all about old Father Sun, who would come peeping up over the hills after awhile. If he had been a wise little turtle, he would not have wandered so far away from home. River turtles have to keep themselves damp. If they become too dry they cannot walk, and if the sun shines too hot upon them, they die.Now while this little turtle was trudging slowly along, the sun came up and shone right down upon him. He turned around and started back to the river; but turtles travel so slowly and the sun was so hot, that he could only get half way there. When he saw what trouble he was in, he climbed into a shady hole in a big rock and began to cry.He cried so hard and so loud that a coyote, who was passing near by, heard him. The coyote’s ears were not very keen so he thought it was somebody singing.“I must find out who that is singing,” said Mr. Coyote, ” and get him to teach me that song. ”So Mr. Coyote peeped around the rock and found the turtle with big tears in his eyes.“Good-day,” said Mr. Coyote, “that was a nice song you were singing. Won’t you teach it to me?”“I was not singing,” replied the turtle.“I know you were, for I heard you and I want to learn your song. If you do not teach it to me I will swallow you whole!”“That cannot do me any harm,” said the turtle, “for I have a hard shell that will hurt your throat.”“Well, if you do not sing for me I’ll throw you in the hot sun!”“That cannot harm me either,” said the turtle, “for I can crawl under my shell.”“Well then,” said Mr. Coyote, “I will throw you into the river if you do not sing.”“Oh, please Coyote-man do not throw me into the river. I might drown if you do. Please do not throw me in!”“Yes, I will!” and Mr. Coyote took up the turtle in his mouth and threw him into the riverThe little turtle swam out under the water where the coyote could not reach him. Then he stuck his head up out of the water:“Thank you very much, Coyote-man, for throwing me into the river. This is my home. I had no way to get here. Thank you for helping me.”And old Mr. Coyote trotted away very angry.Author Note: Hopi, 2nd Mesa
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass.  Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.  The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them.  “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other.One day the Giant came back.  He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years.  After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle.  When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.”  So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.He was a very selfish Giant.The poor children had now nowhere to play.  They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it.  They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.  “How happy we were there,” they said to each other.Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds.  Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter.  The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom.  Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep.  The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.  “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the year round.”  The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver.  Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came.  He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.  “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.”  So the Hail came.  Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go.  He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”But the Spring never came, nor the Summer.  The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none.  “He is too selfish,” she said.  So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music.  It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by.  It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world.  Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement.  “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.What did he see?He saw a most wonderful sight.  Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees.  In every tree that he could see there was a little child.  And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads.  The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing.  It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter.  It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy.  He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly.  The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it.  “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out.  “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here.  I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.”  He was really very sorry for what he had done.So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden.  But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again.  Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming.  And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree.  And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him.  And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring.  “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall.  And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.”  The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.”“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant.  But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant.  But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again.  The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him.  “How I would like to see him!” he used to say.Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble.  He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden.  “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.”One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing.  He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked.  It certainly was a marvellous sight.  In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms.  Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden.  He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child.  And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?”  For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.”“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
In old times, when all kinds of wonderful things happened in Brittany, there lived in the village of Lanillis, a young man named Houarn Pogamm and a girl called Bellah Postik. They were cousins, and as their mothers were great friends, and constantly in and out of each other’s houses, they had often been laid in the same cradle, and had played and fought over their games.‘When they are grown up they will marry,’ said the mothers; but just as every one was beginning to think of wedding bells, the two mothers died, and the cousins, who had no money, went as servants in the same house. This was better than being parted, of course, but not so good as having a little cottage of their own, where they could do as they liked, and soon they might have been heard bewailing to each other the hardness of their lots.‘If we could only manage to buy a cow and get a pig to fatten,’ grumbled Houarn, ‘I would rent a bit of ground from the master, and then we could be married.’‘Yes,’ answered Bellah, with a deep sigh; ‘but we live in such hard times, and at the last fair the price of pigs had risen again.’‘We shall have long to wait, that is quite clear,’ replied Houarn, turning away to his work.Whenever they met they repeated their grievances, and at length Houarn’s patience was exhausted, and one morning he came to Bellah and told her that he was going away to seek his fortune.The girl was very unhappy as she listened to this, and felt sorry that she had not tried to make the best of things. She implored Houarn not to leave her, but he would listen to nothing.‘The birds,’ he said, ‘continue flying until they reach a field of corn, and the bees do not stop unless they find the honey- giving flowers, and why should a man have less sense than they? Like them, I shall seek till I get what I want–that is, money to buy a cow and a pig to fatten. And if you love me, Bellah, you won’t attempt to hinder a plan which will hasten our marriage.’The girl saw it was useless to say more, so she answered sadly:‘Well, go then, since you must. But first I will divide with you all that my parents left me,’ and going to her room, she opened a small chest, and took from it a bell, a knife, and a little stick.‘This bell,’ she said, ‘can be heard at any distance, however far, but it only rings to warn us that our friends are in great danger. The knife frees all it touches from the spells that have been laid on them; while the stick will carry you wherever you want to go. I will give you the knife to guard you against the enchantments of wizards, and the bell to tell me of your perils. The stick I shall keep for myself, so that I can fly to you if ever you have need of me.’Then they cried for a little on each other’s necks, and Houarn started for the mountains.But in those days, as in these, beggars abounded, and through every village he passed they followed Houarn in crowds, mistaking him for a gentleman, because there were no holes in his clothes.‘There is no fortune to be made here,’ he thought to himself; ‘it is a place for spending, and not earning. I see I must go further,’ and he walked on to Pont-aven, a pretty little town built on the bank of a river.He was sitting on a bench outside an inn, when he heard two men who were loading their mules talking about the Groac’h of the island of Lok.‘What is a Groac’h?’ asked he. ‘I have never come across one.’ And the men answered that it was the name given to the fairy that dwelt in the lake, and that she was rich–oh! richer than all the kings in the world put together. Many had gone to the island to try and get possession of her treasures, but no one had ever come back.As he listened Houarn’s mind was made up.‘I will go, and return too,’ he said to the muleteers. They stared at him in astonishment, and besought him not to be so mad and to throw away his life in such a foolish manner; but he only laughed, and answered that if they could tell him of any other way in which to procure a cow and a pig to fatten, he would think no more about it. But the men did not know how this was to be done, and, shaking their heads over his obstinacy, left him to his fate.So Houarn went down to the sea, and found a boatman who engaged to take him to the isle of Lok.The island was large, and lying almost across it was a lake, with a narrow opening to the sea. Houarn paid the boatman and sent him away, and then proceeded to walk round the lake. At one end he perceived a small skiff, painted blue and shaped like a swan, lying under a clump of yellow broom. As far as he could see, the swan’s head was tucked under its wing, and Houarn, who had never beheld a boat of the sort, went quickly towards it and stepped in, so as to examine it the better. But no sooner was he on board than the swan woke suddenly up; his head emerged from under his wing, his feet began to move in the water, and in another moment they were in the middle of the lake.As soon as the young man had recovered from his surprise, he prepared to jump into the lake and swim to shore. But the bird had guessed his intentions, and plunged beneath the water, carrying Houarn with him to the palace of the Groac’h.Now, unless you have been under the sea and beheld all the wonders that lie there, you can never have an idea what the Groac’h’s palace was like. It was all made of shells, blue and green and pink and lilac and white, shading into each other till you could not tell where one colour ended and the other began. The staircases were of crystal, and every separate stair sang like a woodland bird as you put your foot on it. Round the palace were great gardens full of all the plants that grow in the sea, with diamonds for flowers.In a large hall the Groac’h was lying on a couch of gold. The pink and white of her face reminded you of the shells of her palace, while her long black hair was intertwined with strings of coral, and her dress of green silk seemed formed out of the sea. At the sight of her Houarn stopped, dazzled by her beauty.‘Come in,’ said the Groac’h, rising to her feet. ‘Strangers and handsome youths are always welcome here. Do not be shy, but tell me how you found your way, and what you want.’‘My name is Houarn,’ he answered, ‘Lanillis is my home, and I am trying to earn enough money to buy a little cow and a pig to fatten.’‘Well, you can easily get that,’ replied she; ‘it is nothing to worry about. Come in and enjoy yourself.’ And she beckoned him to follow her into a second hall whose floors and walls were formed of pearls, while down the sides there were tables laden with fruit and wines of all kinds; and as he ate and drank, the Groac’h talked to him and told him how the treasures he saw came from shipwrecked vessels, and were brought to her palace by a magic current of water.‘I do not wonder,’ exclaimed Houarn, who now felt quite at home– ‘I do not wonder that the people on the earth have so much to say about you.’‘The rich are always envied.’‘For myself,’ he added, with a laugh, ‘I only ask for the half of your wealth.’‘You can have it, if you will, Houarn,’ answered the fairy.‘What do you mean?’ cried he.‘My husband, Korandon, is dead,’ she replied, ‘and if you wish it, I will marry you.’The young man gazed at her in surprise. Could any one so rich and so beautiful really wish to be his wife? He looked at her again, and Bellah was forgotten as he answered:‘A man would be mad indeed to refuse such an offer. I can only accept it with joy.’‘Then the sooner it is done the better,’ said the Groac’h, and gave orders to her servants. After that was finished, she begged Houarn to accompany her to a fish-pond at the bottom of the garden.‘Come lawyer, come miller, come tailor, come singer!’ cried she, holding out a net of steel; and at each summons a fish appeared and jumped into the net. When it was full she went into a large kitchen and threw them all into a golden pot; but above the bubbling of the water Houarn seemed to hear the whispering of little voices.‘Who is it whispering in the golden pot, Groac’h?’ he inquired at last.‘It is nothing but the noise of the wood sparkling,’ she answered; but it did not sound the least like that to Houarn.‘There it is again,’ he said, after a short pause.‘The water is getting hot, and it makes the fish jump,’ she replied; but soon the noise grew louder and like cries.‘What is it?’ asked Houarn, beginning to feel uncomfortable.‘Just the crickets on the hearth,’ said she, and broke into a song which drowned the cries from the pot.But though Houarn held his peace, he was not as happy as before. Something seemed to have gone wrong, and then he suddenly remembered Bellah.‘Is it possible I can have forgotten her so soon? What a wretch I am!’ he thought to himself; and he remained apart and watched the Groac’h while she emptied the fish into a plate, and bade him eat his dinner while she fetched wine from her cellar in a cave.Houarn sat down and took out the knife which Bellah had given him, but as soon as the blade touched the fish the enchantment ceased, and four men stood before him.‘Houarn, save us, we entreat you, and save yourself too!’ murmured they, not daring to raise their voices.‘Why, it must have been you who were crying out in the pot just now!’ exclaimed Houarn.‘Yes, it was us,’ they answered. ‘Like you, we came to the isle of Lok to seek our fortunes, and like you we consented to marry the Groac’h, and no sooner was the ceremony over than she turned us into fishes, as she had done to all our forerunners, who are in the fish-pond still, where you will shortly join them.’On hearing this Houarn leaped into the air, as if he already felt himself frizzling in the golden pot. He rushed to the door, hoping to escape that way; but the Groac’h, who had heard everything, met him on the threshold. Instantly she threw the steel net over his head, and the eyes of a little green frog peeped through the meshes.‘You shall go and play with the rest,’ she said, carrying him off to the fish-pond.It was at this very moment that Bellah, who was skimming the milk in the farm dairy, heard the fairy bell tinkle violently.At the sound she grew pale, for she knew it meant that Houarn was in danger; and, hastily, changing the rough dress she wore for her work, she left the farm with the magic stick in her hand.Her knees were trembling under her, but she ran as fast as she could to the cross roads, where she drove her stick into the ground, murmuring as she did so a verse her mother had taught her:Little staff of apple-tree, Over the earth and over the sea, Up in the air be guide to me, Everywhere to wander free,and immediately the stick became a smart little horse, with a rosette at each ear and a feather on his forehead. He stood quite still while Bellah scrambled up, then he started off, his pace growing quicker and quicker, till at length the girl could hardly see the trees and houses as they flashed past. But, rapid as the pace was, it was not rapid enough for Bellah, who stooped and said:‘The swallow is less swift than the wind, the wind is less swift than the lightning. But you, my horse, if you love me, must be swifter than them all, for there is a part of my heart that suffers –the best part of my heart that is in danger.’And the horse heard her, and galloped like a straw carried along by a tempest till they reached the foot of a rock called the Leap of the Deer. There he stopped, for no horse or mule that ever was born could climb that rock, and Bellah knew it, so she began to sing again:Horse of Leon, given to me, Over the earth and over the sea, Up in the air be guide to me, Everywhere to wander free,and when she had finished, the horse’s fore legs grew shorter and spread into wings, his hind legs became claws, feathers sprouted all over his body, and she sat on the back of a great bird, which bore her to the summit of the rock. Here she found a nest made of clay and lined with dried moss, and in the centre a tiny man, black and wrinkled, who gave a cry of surprise at the sight of Bellah.‘Ah! you are the pretty girl who was to come and save me!’‘To save you!’ repeated Bellah. ‘But who are you, my little friend?’‘I am the husband of the Groac’h of the isle of Lok, and it is owing to her that I am here.’‘But what are you doing in this nest?’‘I am sitting on six eggs of stone, and I shall not be set free till they are hatched.’On hearing this Bellah began to laugh.‘Poor little cock!’ she said, ‘and how am I to deliver you?’‘By delivering Houarn, who is in the power of the Groac’h.’‘Ah! tell me how I can manage that, and if I have to walk round the whole of Brittany on my bended knees I will do it!’‘Well, first you must dress yourself as a young man, and then go and seek the Groac’h. When you have found her you must contrive to get hold of the net of steel that hangs from her waist, and shut her up in it for ever.’‘But where am I to find a young man’s clothes?’ asked she.‘I will show you,’ he replied, and as he spoke he pulled out three of his red hairs and blew them away, muttering something the while. In the twinkling of an eye the four hairs changed into four tailors, of whom the first carried a cabbage, the second a pair of scissors, the third a needle, and the fourth an iron. Without waiting for orders, they sat down in the nest and, crossing their legs comfortably, began to prepare the suit of clothes for Bellah.With one of the leaves of the cabbage they made her a coat, and another served for a waistcoat; but it took two for the wide breeches which were then in fashion. The hat was cut from the heart of the cabbage, and a pair of shoes from the thick stem. And when Bellah had put them all on you would have taken her for a gentleman dressed in green velvet, lined with white satin.She thanked the little men gratefully, and after a few more instructions, jumped on the back of her great bird, and was borne away to the isle of Lok. Once there, she bade him transform himself back into a stick, and with it in her hand she stepped into the blue boat, which conducted her to the palace of shells.The Groac’h seemed overjoyed to see her, and told her that never before had she beheld such a handsome young man. Very soon she led her visitor into the great hall, where wine and fruit were always waiting, and on the table lay the magic knife, left there by Houarn. Unseen by the Groac’h, Bellah hid it in a pocket of her green coat, and then followed her hostess into the garden, and to the pond which contained the fish, their sides shining with a thousand different colours.‘Oh! what beautiful, beautiful creatures!’ said she. ‘I’m sure I should never be tired of watching them.’ And she sat down on the bank, with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, her eyes fixed on the fishes as they flashed past.‘Would you not like to stay here always?’ asked the Groac’h; and Bellah answered that she desired nothing better.‘Then you have only to marry me,’ said the Groac’h. ‘Oh! don’t say no, for I have fallen deeply in love with you.’‘Well, I won’t say “No,”‘ replied Bellah, with a laugh, ‘but you must promise first to let me catch one of those lovely fish in your net.’‘It is not so easy as it looks,’ rejoined the Groac’h, smiling, ‘but take it, and try your luck.’Bellah took the net which the Groac’h held out, and, turning rapidly, flung it over the witch’s head.‘Become in body what you are in soul!’ cried she, and in an instant the lovely fairy of the sea was a toad, horrible to look upon. She struggled hard to tear the net asunder, but it was no use. Bellah only drew it the tighter, and, flinging the sorceress into a pit, she rolled a great stone across the mouth, and left her.As she drew near the pond she saw a great procession of fishes advancing to meet her, crying in hoarse tones:‘This is our lord and master, who has saved us from the net of steel and the pot of gold!’‘And who will restore you to your proper shapes,’ said Bellah, drawing the knife from her pocket. But just as she was going to touch the foremost fish, her eyes fell on a green frog on his knees beside her, his little paws crossed over his little heart. Bellah felt as if fingers were tightening round her throat, but she managed to cry:‘Is this you, my Houarn? Is this you?’‘It is I,’ croaked the little frog; and as the knife touched him he was a man again, and, springing up, he clasped her in his arms.‘But we must not forget the others,’ she said at last, and began to transform the fishes to their proper shapes. There were so many of them that it took quite a long time. Just as she had finished there arrived the little dwarf from the Deer’s Leap in a car drawn by six cockchafers, which once had been the six stone eggs.‘Here I am!’ he exclaimed. ‘You have broken the spell that held me, and now come and get your reward,’ and, dismounting from his chariot, he led them down into the caves filled with gold and jewels, and bade Bellah and Houarn take as much as they wanted.When their pockets were full, Bellah ordered her stick to become a winged carriage, large enough to bear them and the men they had rescued back to Lanillis.There they were married the next day, but instead of setting up housekeeping with the little cow and pig to fatten that they had so long wished for, they were able to buy lands for miles round for themselves, and gave each man who had been delivered from the Groac’h a small farm, where he lived happily to the end of his days.
There was once a boy in the County Mayo; Guleesh was his name. There was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass bank that was running round it. One night he stood, half leaning against the gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, and watching the beautiful white moon over his head. After he had been standing that way for a couple of hours, he said to himself: “My bitter grief that I am not gone away out of this place altogether. I’d sooner be any place in the world than here. Och, it’s well for you, white moon,” says he, “that’s turning round, turning round, as you please yourself, and no man can put you back. I wish I was the same as you.”Hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noise coming like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like a whirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. “Musha, by my soul,” says he, “but ye’re merry enough, and I’ll follow ye.”What was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at first that it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath. It’s there he heard the fulparnee, and the folpornee, the rap-lay-hoota, and the roolya-boolya, that they had there, and every man of them crying out as loud as he could: “My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!”“By my hand,” said Guleesh, “my boy, that’s not bad. I’ll imitate ye,” and he cried out as well as they: “My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!” And on the moment there was a fine horse with a bridle of gold, and a saddle of silver, standing before him. He leaped up on it, and the moment he was on its back he saw clearly that the rath was full of horses, and of little people going riding on them.Said a man of them to him: “Are you coming with us to-night, Guleesh?”“I am surely,” said Guleesh.“If you are, come along,” said the little man, and out they went all together, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse ever you saw a-hunting, and faster than the fox and the hounds at his tail.The cold winter’s wind that was before them, they overtook her, and the cold winter’s wind that was behind them, she did not overtake them. And stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, until they came to the brink of the sea.Then every one of them said: “Hie over cap! Hie over cap!” and that moment they were up in the air, and before Guleesh had time to remember where he was, they were down on dry land again, and were going like the wind.At last they stood still, and a man of them said to Guleesh: “Guleesh, do you know where you are now?”“Not a know,” says Guleesh.“You’re in France, Guleesh,” said he. “The daughter of the king of France is to be married to-night, the handsomest woman that the sun ever saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us; if we’re only able to carry her off; and you must come with us that we may be able to put the young girl up behind you on the horse, when we’ll be bringing her away, for it’s not lawful for us to put her sitting behind ourselves. But you’re flesh and blood, and she can take a good grip of you, so that she won’t fall off the horse. Are you satisfied, Guleesh, and will you do what we’re telling you?”“Why shouldn’t I be satisfied?” said Guleesh. “I’m satisfied, surely, and anything that ye will tell me to do I’ll do it without doubt.”They got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word that Guleesh did not understand, and on the moment they were lifted up, and Guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. There was a great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or a gentleman in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk and satin, and gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the day with all the lamps and candles that were lit, and Guleesh had to shut his two eyes at the brightness. When he opened them again and looked from him, he thought he never saw anything as fine as all he saw there. There were a hundred tables spread out, and their full of meat and drink on each table of them, flesh-meat, and cakes and sweetmeats, and wine and ale, and every drink that ever a man saw. The musicians were at the two ends of the hall, and they were playing the sweetest music that ever a man’s ear heard, and there were young women and fine youths in the middle of the hall, dancing and turning, and going round so quickly and so lightly, that it put a soorawn in Guleesh’s head to be looking at them. There were more there playing tricks, and more making fun and laughing, for such a feast as there was that day had not been in France for twenty years, because the old king had no children alive but only the one daughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king that night. Three days the feast was going on, and the third night she was to be married, and that was the night that Guleesh and the sheehogues came, hoping, if they could, to carry off with them the king’s young daughter.Guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of the hall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishops behind it waiting to marry the girl, as soon as the right time should come. Now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said a word as they came in, that made them all invisible, as if they had not been in it at all.“Tell me which of them is the king’s daughter,” said Guleesh, when he was becoming a little used to the noise and the light.“Don’t you see her there away from you?” said the little man that he was talking to.Guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon the ridge of the world. The rose and the lily were fighting together in her face, and one could not tell which of them got the victory. Her arms and hands were like the lime, her mouth as red as a strawberry when it is ripe, her foot was as small and as light as another one’s hand, her form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling down from her head in buckles of gold. Her garments and dress were woven with gold and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring on her hand was as shining as the sun.Guleesh was nearly blinded with all the loveliness and beauty that was in her; but when he looked again, he saw that she was crying, and that there was the trace of tears in her eyes. “It can’t be,” said Guleesh, “that there’s grief on her, when everybody round her is so full of sport and merriment.”“Musha, then, she is grieved,” said the little man; “for it’s against her own will she’s marrying, and she has no love for the husband she is to marry. The king was going to give her to him three years ago, when she was only fifteen, but she said she was too young, and requested him to leave her as she was yet. The king gave her a year’s grace, and when that year was up he gave her another year’s grace, and then another; but a week or a day he would not give her longer, and she is eighteen years old to-night, and it’s time for her to marry; but, indeed,” says he, and he crooked his mouth in an ugly way—”indeed, it’s no king’s son she’ll marry, if I can help it.”Guleesh pitied the handsome young lady greatly when he heard that, and he was heart-broken to think that it would be necessary for her to marry a man she did not like, or, what was worse, to take a nasty sheehogue for a husband. However, he did not say a word, though he could not help giving many a curse to the ill-luck that was laid out for himself, to be helping the people that were to snatch her away from her home and from her father.He began thinking, then, what it was he ought to do to save her, but he could think of nothing. “Oh! if I could only give her some help and relief,” said he, “I wouldn’t care whether I were alive or dead; but I see nothing that I can do for her.”He was looking on when the king’s son came up to her and asked her for a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. Guleesh had double pity for her then, when he saw the lad taking her by the soft white hand, and drawing her out to dance. They went round in the dance near where Guleesh was, and he could plainly see that there were tears in her eyes.When the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her mother the queen, came up and said that this was the right time to marry her, that the bishop was ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her and give her to her husband.The king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took her daughter, and they went up together to the altar, with the lords and great people following them.When they came near the altar, and were no more than about four yards from it, the little sheehogue stretched out his foot before the girl, and she fell. Before she was able to rise again he threw something that was in his hand upon her, said a couple of words, and upon the moment the maiden was gone from amongst them. Nobody could see her, for that word made her invisible. The little man_een_ seized her and raised her up behind Guleesh, and the king nor no one else saw them, but out with them through the hall till they came to the door.Oro! dear Mary! it’s there the pity was, and the trouble, and the crying, and the wonder, and the searching, and the rookawn, when that lady disappeared from their eyes, and without their seeing what did it. Out of the door of the palace they went, without being stopped or hindered, for nobody saw them, and, “My horse, my bridle, and saddle!” says every man of them. “My horse, my bridle, and saddle!” says Guleesh; and on the moment the horse was standing ready caparisoned before him. “Now, jump up, Guleesh,” said the little man, “and put the lady behind you, and we will be going; the morning is not far off from us now.”Guleesh raised her up on the horse’s back, and leaped up himself before her, and, “Rise, horse,” said he; and his horse, and the other horses with him, went in a full race until they came to the sea.“Hie over cap!” said every man of them.“Hie over cap!” said Guleesh; and on the moment the horse rose under him, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in Erin.They did not stop there, but went of a race to the place where wasGuleesh’s house and the rath. And when they came as far as that,Guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leapedoff the horse.“I call and cross you to myself, in the name of God!” said he; and on the spot, before the word was out of his mouth, the horse fell down, and what was in it but the beam of a plough, of which they had made a horse; and every other horse they had, it was that way they made it. Some of them were riding on an old besom, and some on a broken stick, and more on a bohalawn or a hemlock-stalk.The good people called out together when they heard what Guleesh said:“Oh! Guleesh, you clown, you thief, that no good may happen you, why did you play that trick on us?”But they had no power at all to carry off the girl, after Guleesh had consecrated her to himself.“Oh! Guleesh, isn’t that a nice turn you did us, and we so kind to you? What good have we now out of our journey to France. Never mind yet, you clown, but you’ll pay us another time for this. Believe us, you’ll repent it.”“He’ll have no good to get out of the young girl,” said the little man that was talking to him in the palace before that, and as he said the word he moved over to her and struck her a slap on the side of the head. “Now,” says he, “she’ll be without talk any more; now, Guleesh, what good will she be to you when she’ll be dumb? It’s time for us to go—but you’ll remember us, Guleesh!”When he said that he stretched out his two hands, and before Guleesh was able to give an answer, he and the rest of them were gone into the rath out of his sight, and he saw them no more.He turned to the young woman and said to her: “Thanks be to God, they’re gone. Would you not sooner stay with me than with them?” She gave him no answer. “There’s trouble and grief on her yet,” said Guleesh in his own mind, and he spoke to her again: “I am afraid that you must spend this night in my father’s house, lady, and if there is anything that I can do for you, tell me, and I’ll be your servant.”The beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in her eyes, and her face was white and red after each other.“Lady,” said Guleesh, “tell me what you would like me to do now. I never belonged at all to that lot of sheehogues who carried you away with them. I am the son of an honest farmer, and I went with them without knowing it. If I’ll be able to send you back to your father I’ll do it, and I pray you make any use of me now that you may wish.”He looked into her face, and he saw the mouth moving as if she was going to speak, but there came no word from it.“It cannot be,” said Guleesh, “that you are dumb. Did I not hear you speaking to the king’s son in the palace to-night? Or has that devil made you really dumb, when he struck his nasty hand on your jaw?”The girl raised her white smooth hand, and laid her finger on her tongue, to show him that she had lost her voice and power of speech, and the tears ran out of her two eyes like streams, and Guleesh’s own eyes were not dry, for as rough as he was on the outside he had a soft heart, and could not stand the sight of the young girl, and she in that unhappy plight.He began thinking with himself what he ought to do, and he did not like to bring her home with himself to his father’s house, for he knew well that they would not believe him, that he had been in France and brought back with him the king of France’s daughter, and he was afraid they might make a mock of the young lady or insult her.As he was doubting what he ought to do, and hesitating, he chanced to remember the priest. “Glory be to God,” said he, “I know now what I’ll do; I’ll bring her to the priest’s house, and he won’t refuse me to keep the lady and care for her.” He turned to the lady again and told her that he was loth to take her to his father’s house, but that there was an excellent priest very friendly to himself, who would take good care of her, if she wished to remain in his house; but that if there was any other place she would rather go, he said he would bring her to it.She bent her head, to show him she was obliged, and gave him to understand that she was ready to follow him any place he was going. “We will go to the priest’s house, then,” said he; “he is under an obligation to me, and will do anything I ask him.”They went together accordingly to the priest’s house, and the sun was just rising when they came to the door. Guleesh beat it hard, and as early as it was the priest was up, and opened the door himself. He wondered when he saw Guleesh and the girl, for he was certain that it was coming wanting to be married they were.“Guleesh, Guleesh, isn’t it the nice boy you are that you can’t wait till ten o’clock or till twelve, but that you must be coming to me at this hour, looking for marriage, you and your sweetheart? You ought to know that I can’t marry you at such a time, or, at all events, can’t marry you lawfully. But ubbubboo!” said he, suddenly, as he looked again at the young girl, “in the name of God, who have you here? Who is she, or how did you get her?”“Father,” said Guleesh, “you can marry me, or anybody else, if you wish; but it’s not looking for marriage I came to you now, but to ask you, if you please, to give a lodging in your house to this young lady.”The priest looked at him as though he had ten heads on him; but without putting any other question to him, he desired him to come in, himself and the maiden, and when they came in, he shut the door, brought them into the parlour, and put them sitting.“Now, Guleesh,” said he, “tell me truly who is this young lady, and whether you’re out of your senses really, or are only making a joke of me.”“I’m not telling a word of lie, nor making a joke of you,” said Guleesh; “but it was from the palace of the king of France I carried off this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of France.”He began his story then, and told the whole to the priest, and the priest was so much surprised that he could not help calling out at times, or clapping his hands together.When Guleesh said from what he saw he thought the girl was not satisfied with the marriage that was going to take place in the palace before he and the sheehogues broke it up, there came a red blush into the girl’s cheek, and he was more certain than ever that she had sooner be as she was—badly as she was—than be the married wife of the man she hated. When Guleesh said that he would be very thankful to the priest if he would keep her in his own house, the kind man said he would do that as long as Guleesh pleased, but that he did not know what they ought to do with her, because they had no means of sending her back to her father again.Guleesh answered that he was uneasy about the same thing, and that he saw nothing to do but to keep quiet until they should find some opportunity of doing something better. They made it up then between themselves that the priest should let on that it was his brother’s daughter he had, who was come on a visit to him from another county, and that he should tell everybody that she was dumb, and do his best to keep every one away from her. They told the young girl what it was they intended to do, and she showed by her eyes that she was obliged to them.Guleesh went home then, and when his people asked him where he had been, he said that he had been asleep at the foot of the ditch, and had passed the night there.There was great wonderment on the priest’s neighbours at the girl who came so suddenly to his house without any one knowing where she was from, or what business she had there. Some of the people said that everything was not as it ought to be, and others, that Guleesh was not like the same man that was in it before, and that it was a great story, how he was drawing every day to the priest’s house, and that the priest had a wish and a respect for him, a thing they could not clear up at all.That was true for them, indeed, for it was seldom the day went by but Guleesh would go to the priest’s house, and have a talk with him, and as often as he would come he used to hope to find the young lady well again, and with leave to speak; but, alas! she remained dumb and silent, without relief or cure. Since she had no other means of talking, she carried on a sort of conversation between herself and himself, by moving her hand and fingers, winking her eyes, opening and shutting her mouth, laughing or smiling, and a thousand other signs, so that it was not long until they understood each other very well. Guleesh was always thinking how he should send her back to her father; but there was no one to go with her, and he himself did not know what road to go, for he had never been out of his own country before the night he brought her away with him. Nor had the priest any better knowledge than he; but when Guleesh asked him, he wrote three or four letters to the king of France, and gave them to buyers and sellers of wares, who used to be going from place to place across the sea; but they all went astray, and never a one came to the king’s hand.This was the way they were for many months, and Guleesh was falling deeper and deeper in love with her every day, and it was plain to himself and the priest that she liked him. The boy feared greatly at last, lest the king should really hear where his daughter was, and take her back from himself, and he besought the priest to write no more, but to leave the matter to God.So they passed the time for a year, until there came a day when Guleesh was lying by himself, on the grass, on the last day of the last month in autumn, and he was thinking over again in his own mind of everything that happened to him from the day that he went with the sheehogues across the sea. He remembered then, suddenly, that it was one November night that he was standing at the gable of the house, when the whirlwind came, and the sheehogues in it, and he said to himself: “We have November night again to-day, and I’ll stand in the same place I was last year, until I see if the good people come again. Perhaps I might see or hear something that would be useful to me, and might bring back her talk again to Mary”—that was the name himself and the priest called the king’s daughter, for neither of them knew her right name. He told his intention to the priest, and the priest gave him his blessing.Guleesh accordingly went to the old rath when the night was darkening, and he stood with his bent elbow leaning on a grey old flag, waiting till the middle of the night should come. The moon rose slowly; and it was like a knob of fire behind him; and there was a white fog which was raised up over the fields of grass and all damp places, through the coolness of the night after a great heat in the day. The night was calm as is a lake when there is not a breath of wind to move a wave on it, and there was no sound to be heard but the cronawn of the insects that would go by from time to time, or the hoarse sudden scream of the wild-geese, as they passed from lake to lake, half a mile up in the air over his head; or the sharp whistle of the golden and green plover, rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. There were a thousand thousand bright stars shining over his head, and there was a little frost out, which left the grass under his foot white and crisp.He stood there for an hour, for two hours, for three hours, and the frost increased greatly, so that he heard the breaking of the traneens under his foot as often as he moved. He was thinking, in his own mind, at last, that the sheehogues would not come that night, and that it was as good for him to return back again, when he heard a sound far away from him, coming towards him, and he recognised what it was at the first moment. The sound increased, and at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, and then it was like the falling of a great waterfall, and at last it was like a loud storm in the tops of the trees, and then the whirlwind burst into the rath of one rout, and the sheehogues were in it.It all went by him so suddenly that he lost his breath with it, but he came to himself on the spot, and put an ear on himself, listening to what they would say.Scarcely had they gathered into the rath till they all began shouting, and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and then each one of them cried out: “My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!” and Guleesh took courage, and called out as loudly as any of them: “My horse, and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!” But before the word was well out of his mouth, another man cried out: “Ora! Guleesh, my boy, are you here with us again? How are you getting on with your woman? There’s no use in your calling for your horse to-night. I’ll go bail you won’t play such a trick on us again. It was a good trick you played on us last year?”“It was,” said another man; “he won’t do it again.”“Isn’t he a prime lad, the same lad! to take a woman with him that never said as much to him as, ‘How do you do?’ since this time last year!” says the third man.“Perhaps be likes to be looking at her,” said another voice.“And if the omadawn only knew that there’s an herb growing up by his own door, and if he were to boil it and give it to her, she’d be well,” said another voice.“That’s true for you.”“He is an omadawn.”“Don’t bother your head with him; we’ll be going.”“We’ll leave the bodach as he is.”And with that they rose up into the air, and out with them with one roolya-boolya the way they came; and they left poor Guleesh standing where they found him, and the two eyes going out of his head, looking after them and wondering.He did not stand long till he returned back, and he thinking in his own mind on all he saw and heard, and wondering whether there was really an herb at his own door that would bring back the talk to the king’s daughter. “It can’t be,” says he to himself, “that they would tell it to me, if there was any virtue in it; but perhaps the sheehogue didn’t observe himself when he let the word slip out of his mouth. I’ll search well as soon as the sun rises, whether there’s any plant growing beside the house except thistles and dockings.”He went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink until the sun rose on the morrow. He got up then, and it was the first thing he did to go out and search well through the grass round about the house, trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise. And, indeed, he was not long searching till he observed a large strange herb that was growing up just by the gable of the house.He went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there were seven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leaves growing on every branch_een_ of them; and that there was a white sap in the leaves. “It’s very wonderful,” said he to himself, “that I never noticed this herb before. If there’s any virtue in an herb at all, it ought to be in such a strange one as this.”He drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his own house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there came a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-thistle when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil.He put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it on the fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filled it half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. It came into his head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and that the good people were only tempting him that he might kill himself with that trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. He put down the cup again, raised a couple of drops on the top of his finger, and put it to his mouth. It was not bitter, and, indeed, had a sweet, agreeable taste. He grew bolder then, and drank the full of a thimble of it, and then as much again, and he never stopped till he had half the cup drunk. He fell asleep after that, and did not wake till it was night, and there was great hunger and great thirst on him.He had to wait, then, till the day rose; but he determined, as soon as he should wake in the morning, that he would go to the king’s daughter and give her a drink of the juice of the herb.As soon as he got up in the morning, he went over to the priest’s house with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so bold and valiant, and spirited and light, as he was that day, and he was quite certain that it was the drink he drank which made him so hearty.When he came to the house, he found the priest and the young lady within, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited them for two days.He told them all his news, and said that he was certain that there was great power in that herb, and that it would do the lady no hurt, for he tried it himself and got good from it, and then he made her taste it, for he vowed and swore that there was no harm in it.Guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then fell back on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never woke out of that sleep till the day on the morrow.Guleesh and the priest sat up the entire night with her, waiting till she should awake, and they between hope and unhope, between expectation of saving her and fear of hurting her.She awoke at last when the sun had gone half its way through the heavens. She rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did not know where she was. She was like one astonished when she saw Guleesh and the priest in the same room with her, and she sat up doing her best to collect her thoughts.The two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, or would she not speak, and when they remained silent for a couple of minutes, the priest said to her: “Did you sleep well, Mary?”And she answered him: “I slept, thank you.”No sooner did Guleesh hear her talking than he put a shout of joy out of him, and ran over to her and fell on his two knees, and said: “A thousand thanks to God, who has given you back the talk; lady of my heart, speak again to me.”The lady answered him that she understood it was he who boiled that drink for her, and gave it to her; that she was obliged to him from her heart for all the kindness he showed her since the day she first came to Ireland, and that he might be certain that she never would forget it.Guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. Then they brought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merry and joyous, and never left off talking with the priest while she was eating.After that Guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself on the bed and fell asleep again, for the force of the herb was not all spent, and he passed another day and a night sleeping. When he woke up he went back to the priest’s house, and found that the young lady was in the same state, and that she was asleep almost since the time that he left the house.He went into her chamber with the priest, and they remained watching beside her till she awoke the second time, and she had her talk as well as ever, and Guleesh was greatly rejoiced. The priest put food on the table again, and they ate together, and Guleesh used after that to come to the house from day to day, and the friendship that was between him and the king’s daughter increased, because she had no one to speak to except Guleesh and the priest, and she liked Guleesh best.So they married one another, and that was the fine wedding they had, and if I were to be there then, I would not be here now; but I heard it from a birdeen that there was neither cark nor care, sickness nor sorrow, mishap nor misfortune on them till the hour of their death, and may the same be with me, and with us all!
Now, as Raja Rasâlu, tender-hearted and strong, journeyed along to play chaupur with the King, he came to a burning forest, and a voice rose from the fire saying, ‘O traveller, for God’s sake save me from the fire!’Then the Prince turned towards the burning forest, and, lo! the voice was the voice of a tiny cricket. Nevertheless, Rasâlu, tender-hearted and strong, snatched it from the fire and set it at liberty. Then the little creature, full of gratitude, pulled out one of its feelers, and giving it to its preserver, said, ‘Keep this, and should you ever be in trouble, put it into the fire, and instantly I will come to your aid.’The Prince smiled, saying, ‘What help could you give me?’ Nevertheless, he kept the hair and went on his way.Now, when he reached the city of King Sarkap, seventy maidens, daughters of the King, came out to meet him—seventy fair maidens, merry and careless, full of smiles and laughter; but one, the youngest of them all, when she saw the gallant young Prince riding on Bhaunr Irâqi, going gaily to his doom, was filled with pity, and called to him, saying—­‘Fair Prince, on the charger so gray,Turn thee back! turn thee back!Or lower thy lance for the fray;Thy head will be forfeit to-day!Dost love life? then, stranger, I pray,Turn thee back! turn thee back!’But he, smiling at the maiden, answered lightly—­‘Fair maiden, I come from afar,Sworn conqueror in love and in war!King Sarkap my coming will rue,His head in four pieces I’ll hew;Then forth as a bridegroom I’ll ride,With you, little maid, as my bride!’Now when Rasâlu replied so gallantly, the maiden looked in his face, and seeing how fair he was, and how brave and strong, she straightway fell in love with him, and would gladly have followed him through the world.But the other sixty-nine maidens, being jealous, laughed scornfully at her, saying, ‘Not so fast, O gallant warrior! If you would marry our sister you must first do our bidding, for you will be our younger brother.’‘Fair sisters!’ quoth Rasâlu gaily, ‘give me my task and I will perform it.’So the sixty-nine maidens mixed a hundredweight of millet seed with a hundredweight of sand, and giving it to Rasâlu, bade him separate the seed from the sand.Then he bethought him of the cricket, and drawing the feeler from his pocket, thrust it into the fire. And immediately there was a whirring noise in the air, and a great flight of crickets alighted beside him, and among them the cricket whose life he had saved.Then Rasâlu said, ‘Separate the millet seed from the sand.’‘Is that all?’ quoth the cricket; ‘had I known how small a job you wanted me to do, I would not have assembled so many of my brethren.’With that the flight of crickets set to work, and in one night they separated the seed from the sand.Now when the sixty-nine fair maidens, daughters of the King, saw that Rasâlu had performed his task, they set him another, bidding him swing them all, one by one, in their swings, until they were tired.Whereupon he laughed, saying, ‘There are seventy of you, counting my little bride yonder, and I am not going to spend my life in swinging girls; yet, by the time I have given each of you a swing, the first will be wanting another! No! if you want to swing, get in, all seventy of you, into one swing, and then I will see what I can compass.’So the seventy maidens, merry and careless, full of smiles and laughter, climbed into the one swing, and Raja Rasâlu, standing in his shining armour, fastened the ropes to his mighty bow, and drew it up to its fullest bent. Then he let go, and like an arrow the swing shot into the air, with its burden of seventy fair maidens, merry and careless, full of smiles and laughter.But as it swung back again, Rasâlu, standing there in his shining armour, drew his sharp sword and severed the ropes. Then the seventy fair maidens fell to the ground headlong; and some were bruised and some broken, but the only one who escaped unhurt was the maiden who loved Rasâlu, for she fell out last, on the top of the others, and so came to no harm.After this, Rasâlu strode on fifteen paces, till he came to the seventy drums, that every one who came to play chaupur with the King had to beat in turn; and he beat them so loudly that he broke them all. Then he came to the seventy gongs, all in a row, and he hammered them so hard that they cracked to pieces.Seeing this, the youngest Princess, who was the only one who could run, fled to her father the King in a great fright, saying—­‘A mighty Prince, Sarkap! making havoc, rides along,He swung us, seventy maidens fair, and threw us out headlong;He broke the drums you placed there and the gongs too in his pride,Sure, he will kill thee, father mine, and take me for his bride!’But King Sarkap replied scornfully—­‘Silly maiden, thy words make a lotOf a very small matter;For fear of my valour, I wot,His armour will clatter.As soon as I’ve eaten my breadI’ll go forth and cut off his head!’Notwithstanding these brave and boastful words, he was in reality very much afraid, having heard of Rasâlu’s renown. And learning that he was stopping at the house of an old woman in the city, till the hour for playing chaupur arrived, Sarkap sent slaves to him with trays of sweetmeats and fruit, as to an honoured guest. But the food was poisoned.Now when the slaves brought the trays to Raja Rasâlu, he rose up haughtily, saying, ‘Go, tell your master I have nought to do with him in friendship. I am his sworn enemy, and I eat not of his salt!’So saying, he threw the sweetmeats to Raja Sarkap’s dog, which had followed the slaves, and lo! the dog died.Then Rasâlu was very wroth, and said bitterly, ‘Go back to Sarkap, slaves! and tell him that Rasâlu deems it no act of bravery to kill even an enemy by treachery.’
It happened that a Countryman was sowing some hemp seeds in a field where a Swallow and some other birds were hopping about picking up their food. “Beware of that man,” quoth the Swallow. “Why, what is he doing?” said the others. “That is hemp seed he is sowing; be careful to pick up every one of the seeds, or else you will repent it.” The birds paid no heed to the Swallow’s words, and by and by the hemp grew up and was made into cord, and of the cords nets were made, and many a bird that had despised the Swallow’s advice was caught in nets made out of that very hemp. “What did I tell you?” said the Swallow. Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin.
Mukashi, Mukashi, (as most Japanese stories begin), long, long ago, when the gods came down from heaven to subdue the earth for the mikados, and civilize the country, there were a great many earthquakes, and nothing to stop them. The world continually rocked, and men’s houses and lives were never safe.Now the two gods who were charged with the work of subduing the northeastern part of the world were Kashima and Katori. Having done their work well, and quieted all the enemies of the Sun-goddess, they came to the province of Hitachi. Kashima, sticking his sword into the earth, ran it through to the other side, leaving the hilt above the ground. In the course of centuries this mighty sword shrunk and turned to stone, and the people gave it the name of Kanamé ishi, (The rock of Kanamé).Now Kanamé means the rivet in a fan, that holds all the sticks together, and they gave the name “rivet-rock,” because it is the rivet that binds the earth together. No one could ever lift this rock except Kashima the mighty one who first set it in the earth.Yet even Kashima never raises it, except to stop an earthquake of unusual violence. When the earth quivers, it is because the great earthquake-fish or jishin-uwo is restless or angry. This jishin-uwo is a great creature something like a catfish. It is about seven hundred miles long, and holds the world on its back. Its tail is at Awomori in the north, and the base of its head is at Kioto, so that all Japan lies on top of it. To his mouth are attached huge twirling feelers, which are just like the hideous moustaches which the hairy-faced men from beyond the Tai-kai (Pacific Ocean) wear on their lips. As soon as these begin to move, it is a sign that the monster is in wrath. When he gets angry, and flaps his tail or bumps his head, there is an earthquake. When he flounders about or rolls over, there is terrible destruction of life and property on the surface of the earth above.In order to keep the earthquake-fish quiet, the great giant Kashima is appointed to watch him. His business is to stand near by, and when the monster becomes violent Kashima must jump up and straddle him, and hold his gills, put his foot on his fin; and when necessary lift up the great rock of Kanamé and hold him down with its weight. Then he becomes perfectly quiet, and the earthquake ceases. Hence the people sing this earthquake verse:“No monster can move the Kanamé rockThough he tug at it never so hard,For over it stands, resisting the shock,The Kashima Kami on guard.”Another verse they sing as follows:“These are thingsAn earthquake brings;At nine of the bell they sickness fortell,At five and seven betoken rain,At four the sky is cleared thereby,At six and eight comes wind again.”
When good King Arthur reigned, there lived near the Land’s End of England, in the county of Cornwall, a farmer who had one only son called Jack. He was brisk and of a ready lively wit, so that nobody or nothing could worst him.In those days the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a huge giant named Cormoran. He was eighteen feet in height, and about three yards round the waist, of a fierce and grim countenance, the terror of all the neighbouring towns and villages. He lived in a cave in the midst of the Mount, and whenever he wanted food he would wade over to the main- land, where he would furnish himself with whatever came in his way. Everybody at his approach ran out of their houses, while he seized on their cattle, making nothing of carrying half-a-dozen oxen on his back at a time; and as for their sheep and hogs, he would tie them round his waist like a bunch of tallow-dips. He had done this for many years, so that all Cornwall was in despair.One day Jack happened to be at the town-hall when the magistrates were sitting in council about the Giant. He asked: “What reward will be given to the man who kills Cormoran?” “The giant’s treasure,” they said, “will be the reward.” Quoth Jack: “Then let me undertake it.”So he got a horn, shovel, and pickaxe, and went over to the Mount in the beginning of a dark winter’s evening, when he fell to work, and before morning had dug a pit twenty-two feet deep, and nearly as broad, covering it over with long sticks and straw. Then he strewed a little mould over it, so that it appeared like plain ground. Jack then placed himself on the opposite side of the pit, farthest from the giant’s lodging, and, just at the break of day, he put the horn to his mouth, and blew, Tantivy, Tantivy. This noise roused the giant, who rushed from his cave, crying: “You incorrigible villain, are you come here to disturb my rest? You shall pay dearly for this. Satisfaction I will have, and this it shall be, I will take you whole and broil you for breakfast.” He had no sooner uttered this, than he tumbled into the pit, and made the very foundations of the Mount to shake. “Oh, Giant,” quoth Jack, “where are you now? Oh, faith, you are gotten now into Lob’s Pound, where I will surely plague you for your threatening words: what do you think now of broiling me for your breakfast? Will no other diet serve you but poor Jack?” Then having tantalised the giant for a while, he gave him a most weighty knock with his pickaxe on the very crown of his head, and killed him on the spot.Jack then filled up the pit with earth, and went to search the cave, which he found contained much treasure. When the magistrates heard of this they made a declaration he should henceforth be termedJACK THE GIANT-KILLERand presented him with a sword and a belt, on which were written these words embroidered in letters of gold: “Here’s the right valiant Cornish man,Who slew the giant Cormoran.”The news of Jack’s victory soon spread over all the West of England, so that another giant, named Blunderbore, hearing of it, vowed to be revenged on Jack, if ever he should light on him. This giant was the lord of an enchanted castle situated in the midst of a lonesome wood. Now Jack, about four months afterwards, walking near this wood in his journey to Wales, being weary, seated himself near a pleasant fountain and fell fast asleep. While he was sleeping, the giant, coming there for water, discovered him, and knew him to be the far-famed Jack the Giant-killer by the lines written on the belt. Without ado, he took Jack on his shoulders and carried him towards his castle. Now, as they passed through a thicket, the rustling of the boughs awakened Jack, who was strangely surprised to find himself in the clutches of the giant. His terror was only begun, for, on entering the castle, he saw the ground strewed with human bones, and the giant told him his own would ere long be among them. After this the giant locked poor Jack in an immense chamber, leaving him there while he went to fetch another giant, his brother, living in the same wood, who might share in the meal on Jack.After waiting some time Jack, on going to the window beheld afar off the two giants coming towards the castle. “Now,” quoth Jack to himself, “my death or my deliverance is at hand.” Now, there were strong cords in a corner of the room in which Jack was, and two of these he took, and made a strong noose at the end; and while the giants were unlocking the iron gate of the castle he threw the ropes over each of their heads. Then he drew the other ends across a beam, and pulled with all his might, so that he throttled them. Then, when he saw they were black in the face, he slid down the rope, and drawing his sword, slew them both. Then, taking the giant’s keys, and unlocking the rooms, he found three fair ladies tied by the hair of their heads, almost starved to death. “Sweet ladies,” quoth Jack, “I have destroyed this monster and his brutish brother, and obtained your liberties.” This said he presented them with the keys, and so proceeded on his journey to Wales.Jack made the best of his way by travelling as fast as he could, but lost his road, and was benighted, and could find any habitation until, coming into a narrow valley, he found a large house, and in order to get shelter took courage to knock at the gate. But what was his surprise when there came forth a monstrous giant with two heads; yet he did not appear so fiery as the others were, for he was a Welsh giant, and what he did was by private and secret malice under the false show of friendship. Jack, having told his condition to the giant, was shown into a bedroom, where, in the dead of night, he heard his host in another apartment muttering these words: “Though here you lodge with me this night,You shall not see the morning lightMy club shall dash your brains outright!”“Say’st thou so,” quoth Jack; “that is like one of your Welsh tricks, yet I hope to be cunning enough for you.” Then, getting out of bed, he laid a billet in the bed in his stead, and hid himself in a corner of the room. At the dead time of the night in came the Welsh giant, who struck several heavy blows on the bed with his club, thinking he had broken every bone in Jack’s skin. The next morning Jack, laughing in his sleeve, gave him hearty thanks for his night’s lodging. “How have you rested?” quoth the giant; “did you not feel anything in the night?” “No,” quoth Jack, “nothing but a rat, which gave me two or three slaps with her tail.” With that, greatly wondering, the giant led Jack to breakfast, bringing him a bowl containing four gallons of hasty pudding. Being loth to let the giant think it too much for him, Jack put a large leather bag under his loose coat, in such a way that he could convey the pudding into it without its being perceived. Then, telling the giant he would show him a trick, taking a knife, Jack ripped open the bag, and out came all the hasty pudding. Whereupon, saying, “Odds splutters hur nails, hur can do that trick hurself,” the monster took the knife, and ripping open his belly, fell down dead.Now, it happened in these days that King Arthur’s only son asked his father to give him a large sum of money, in order that he might go and seek his fortune in the principality of Wales, where lived a beautiful lady possessed with seven evil spirits. The king did his best to persuade his son from it, but in vain; so at last gave way and the prince set out with two horses, one loaded with money, the other for himself to ride upon. Now, after several days’ travel, he came to a market-town in Wales, where he beheld a vast crowd of people gathered together. The prince asked the reason of it, and was told that they had arrested a corpse for several large sums of money which the deceased owed when he died. The prince replied that it was a pity creditors should be so cruel, and said: “Go bury the dead, and let his creditors come to my lodging, and there their debts shall be paid.” They came, in such great numbers that before night he had only twopence left for himself.Now Jack the Giant-Killer, coming that way, was so taken with the generosity of the prince, that he desired to be his servant. This being agreed upon, the next morning they set forward on their journey together, when, as they were riding out of the town, an old woman called after the prince, saying, “He has owed me twopence these seven years; pray pay me as well as the rest.” Putting his hand to his pocket, the prince gave the woman all he had left, so that after their day’s food, which cost what small spell Jack had by him, they were without a penny between them.When the sun got low, the king’s son said: “Jack, since we have no money, where can we lodge this night?”But Jack replied: “Master, we’ll do well enough, for I have an uncle lives within two miles of this place; he is a huge and monstrous giant with three heads; he’ll fight five hundred men in armour, and make them to fly before him.” “Alas!” quoth the prince, “what shall we do there? He’ll certainly chop us up at a mouthful. Nay, we are scarce enough to fill one of his hollow teeth!”“It is no matter for that,” quoth Jack; “I myself will go before and prepare the way for you; therefore stop here and wait till I return.” Jack then rode away at full speed, and coming to the gate of the castle, he knocked so loud that he made the neighbouring hills resound. The giant roared out at this like thunder: “Who’s there?”Jack answered: “None but your poor cousin Jack.”Quoth he: “What news with my poor cousin Jack?”He replied: “Dear uncle, heavy news, God wot!”“Prithee,” quoth the giant, “what heavy news can come to me? I am a giant with three heads, and besides thou knowest I can fight five hundred men in armour, and make them fly like chaff before the wind.”“Oh, but,” quoth Jack, “here’s the king’s son a-coming with a thousand men in armour to kill you and destroy all that you have!”“Oh, cousin Jack,” said the giant, “this is heavy news indeed! I will immediately run and hide myself, and thou shalt lock, bolt, and bar me in, and keep the keys until the prince is gone.” Having secured the giant, Jack fetched his master, when they made themselves heartily merry whilst the poor giant lay trembling in a vault under the ground.Early in the morning Jack furnished his master with a fresh supply of gold and silver, and then sent him three miles forward on his journey, at which time the prince was pretty well out of the smell of the giant. Jack then returned, and let the giant out of the vault, who asked what he should give him for keeping the castle from destruction. “Why,” quoth Jack, “I want nothing but the old coat and cap, together with the old rusty sword and slippers which are at your bed’s head.” Quoth the giant: “You know not what you ask; they are the most precious things I have. The coat will keep you invisible, the cap will tell you all you want to know, the sword cuts asunder whatever you strike, and the shoes are of extraordinary swiftness. But you have been very serviceable to me, therefore take them with all my heart.” Jack thanked his uncle, and then went off with them. He soon overtook his master and they quickly arrived at the house of the lady the prince sought, who, finding the prince to be a suitor, prepared a splendid banquet for him. After the repast was concluded, she told him she had a task for him. She wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, saying: “You must show me that handkerchief to-morrow morning, or else you will lose your head.” With that she put it in her bosom. The prince went to bed in great sorrow, but Jack’s cap of knowledge informed him how it was to be obtained. In the middle of the night she called upon her familiar spirit to carry her to Lucifer. But Jack put on his coat of darkness and his shoes of swiftness, and was there as soon as she was. When she entered the place of the Old One, she gave the handkerchief to old Lucifer, who laid it upon a shelf, whence Jack took it and brought it to his master, who showed it to the lady next day, and so saved his life. On that day, she gave the prince a kiss and told him he must show her the lips to-morrow morning that she kissed last night, or lose his head.“Ah!” he replied, “if you kiss none but mine, I will.”“That is neither here nor there,” said she; “if you do not, death’s your portion!”At midnight she went as before, and was angry with old Lucifer for letting the handkerchief go. “But now,” quoth she, “I will be too hard for the king’s son, for I will kiss thee, and he is to show me thy lips.” Which she did, and Jack, when she was not standing by, cut off Lucifer’s head and brought it under his invisible coat to his master, who the next morning pulled it out by the horns before the lady. This broke the enchantment and the evil spirit left her, and she appeared in all her beauty. They were married the next morning, and soon after went to the court of King Arthur, where Jack for his many great exploits, was made one of the Knights of the Round Table.Jack soon went searching for giants again, but he had not ridden far, when he saw a cave, near the entrance of which he beheld a giant sitting upon a block of timber, with a knotted iron club by his side. His goggle eyes were like flames of fire, his countenance grim and ugly, and his cheeks like a couple of large flitches of bacon, while the bristles of his beard resembled rods of iron wire, and the locks that hung down upon his brawny shoulders were like curled snakes or hissing adders. Jack alighted from his horse, and, putting on the coat of darkness, went up close to the giant, and said softly: “Oh! are you there? It will not be long before I take you fast by the beard.” The giant all this while could not see him, on account of his invisible coat, so that Jack, coming up close to the monster, struck a blow with his sword at his head, but, missing his aim, he cut off the nose instead. At this, the giant roared like claps of thunder, and began to lay about him with his iron club like one stark mad. But Jack, running behind, drove his sword up to the hilt in the giant’s back, so that he fell down dead. This done, Jack cut off the giant’s head, and sent it, with his brother’s also, to King Arthur, by a waggoner he hired for that purpose.Jack now resolved to enter the giant’s cave in search of his treasure, and, passing along through a great many windings and turnings, he came at length to a large room paved with freestone, at the upper end of which was a boiling caldron, and on the right hand a large table, at which the giant used to dine. Then he came to a window, barred with iron, through which he looked and beheld a vast number of miserable captives, who, seeing him, cried out: “Alas! young man, art thou come to be one amongst us in this miserable den?”“Ay,” quoth Jack, “but pray tell me what is the meaning of your captivity?”“We are kept here,” said one, “till such time as the giants have a wish to feast, and then the fattest among us is slaughtered! And many are the times they have dined upon murdered men!”“Say you so,” quoth Jack, and straightway unlocked the gate and let them free, who all rejoiced like condemned men at sight of a pardon. Then searching the giant’s coffers, he shared the gold and silver equally amongst them and took them to a neighbouring castle, where they all feasted and made merry over their deliverance.But in the midst of all this mirth a messenger brought news that one Thunderdell, a giant with two heads, having heard of the death of his kinsmen, had come from the northern dales to be revenged on Jack, and was within a mile of the castle, the country people flying before him like chaff. But Jack was not a bit daunted, and said: “Let him come! I have a tool to pick his teeth; and you, ladies and gentlemen, walk out into the garden, and you shall witness this giant Thunderdell’s death and destruction.”The castle was situated in the midst of a small island surrounded by a moat thirty feet deep and twenty feet wide, over which lay a drawbridge. So Jack employed men to cut through this bridge on both sides, nearly to the middle; and then, dressing himself in his invisible coat, he marched against the giant with his sword of sharpness. Although the giant could not see Jack, he smelt his approach, and cried out in these words: “Fee, fi, fo, fum!I smell the blood of an Englishman!Be he alive or be he dead,I’ll grind his bones to make me bread!”“Say’st thou so,” said Jack; “then thou art a monstrous miller indeed.”The giant cried out again: “Art thou that villain who killed my kinsmen? Then I will tear thee with my teeth, suck thy blood, and grind thy bones to powder.”“You’ll have to catch me first,” quoth Jack, and throwing off his invisible coat, so that the giant might see him, and putting on his shoes of swiftness, he ran from the giant, who followed like a walking castle, so that the very foundations of the earth seemed to shake at every step. Jack led him a long dance, in order that the gentlemen and ladies might see; and at last to end the matter, ran lightly over the drawbridge, the giant, in full speed, pursuing him with his club. Then, coming to the middle of the bridge, the giant’s great weight broke it down, and he tumbled headlong into the water, where he rolled and wallowed like a whale. Jack, standing by the moat, laughed at him all the while; but though the giant foamed to hear him scoff, and plunged from place to place in the moat, yet he could not get out to be revenged. Jack at length got a cart-rope and cast it over the two heads of the giant, and drew him ashore by a team of horses, and then cut off both his heads with his sword of sharpness, and sent them to King Arthur.After some time spent in mirth and pastime, Jack, taking leave of the knights and ladies, set out for new adventures. Through many woods he passed, and came at length to the foot of a high mountain. Here, late at night, he found a lonesome house, and knocked at the door, which was opened by an aged man with a head as white as snow. “Father,” said Jack, “can you lodge a benighted traveller that has lost his way?” “Yes,” said the old man; “you are right welcome to my poor cottage.” Whereupon Jack entered, and down they sat together, and the old man began to speak as follows: “Son, I see by your belt you are the great conqueror of giants, and behold, my son, on the top of this mountain is an enchanted castle, this is kept by a giant named Galligantua, and he by the help of an old conjurer, betrays many knights and ladies into his castle, where by magic art they are transformed into sundry shapes and forms. But above all, I grieve for a duke’s daughter, whom they fetched from her father’s garden, carrying her through the air in a burning chariot drawn by fiery dragons, when they secured her within the castle, and transformed her into a white hind. And though many knights have tried to break the enchantment, and work her deliverance, yet no one could accomplish it, on account of two dreadful griffins which are placed at the castle gate and which destroy every one who comes near. But you, my son, may pass by them undiscovered, where on the gates of the castle you will find engraven in large letters how the spell may be broken.” Jack gave the old man his hand, and promised that in the morning he would venture his life to free the lady.In the morning Jack arose and put on his invisible coat and magic cap and shoes, and prepared himself for the fray. Now, when he had reached the top of the mountain he soon discovered the two fiery griffins, but passed them without fear, because of his invisible coat. When he had got beyond them, he found upon the gates of the castle a golden trumpet hung by a silver chain, under which these lines were engraved: “Whoever shall this trumpet blow,Shall soon the giant overthrow,And break the black enchantment straight;So all shall be in happy state.”Jack had no sooner read this but he blew the trumpet, at which the castle trembled to its vast foundations, and the giant and conjurer were in horrid confusion, biting their thumbs and tearing their hair, knowing their wicked reign was at an end. Then the giant stooping to take up his club, Jack at one blow cut off his head; whereupon the conjurer, mounting up into the air, was carried away in a whirlwind. Then the enchantment was broken, and all the lords and ladies who had so long been transformed into birds and beasts returned to their proper shapes, and the castle vanished away in a cloud of smoke. This being done, the head of Galligantua was likewise, in the usual manner, conveyed to the Court of King Arthur, where, the very next day, Jack followed, with the knights and ladies who had been delivered. Whereupon, as a reward for his good services, the king prevailed upon the duke to bestow his daughter in marriage on honest Jack. So married they were, and the whole kingdom was filled with joy at the wedding. Furthermore, the king bestowed on Jack a noble castle, with a very beautiful estate thereto belonging, where he and his lady lived in great joy and happiness all the rest of their days.
“Tell us about Baba Yaga,” begged Maroosia.“Yes,” said Vanya, “please, grandfather, and about the little hut on hen’s legs.”“Baba Yaga is a witch,” said old Peter; “a terrible old woman she is, but sometimes kind enough. You know it was she who told Prince Ivan how to win one of the daughters of the Tzar of the Sea, and that was the best daughter of the bunch, Vasilissa the Very Wise. But then Baba Yaga is usually bad, as in the case of Vasilissa the Very Beautiful, who was only saved from her iron teeth by the cleverness of her Magic Doll.”“Tell us the story of the Magic Doll,” begged Maroosia.“I will some day,” said old Peter.“And has Baba Yaga really got iron teeth?” asked Vanya.“Iron, like the poker and tongs,” said old Peter.“What for?” said Maroosia.“To eat up little Russian children,” said old Peter, “when she can get them. She usually only eats bad ones, because the good ones get away. She is bony all over, and her eyes flash, and she drives about in a mortar, beating it with a pestle, and sweeping up her tracks with a besom, so that you cannot tell which way she has gone.”“And her hut?” said Vanya. He had often heard about it before, but he wanted to hear about it again.“She lives in a little hut which stands on hen’s legs. Sometimes it faces the forest, sometimes it faces the path, and sometimes it walks solemnly about. But in some of the stories she lives in another kind of hut, with a railing of tall sticks, and a skull on each stick. And all night long fire glows in the skulls and fades as the dawn rises.”“Now tell us one of the Baba Yaga stories,” said Maroosia.“Please,” said Vanya.“I will tell you how one little girl got away from her, and then, if ever she catches you, you will know exactly what to do.”And old Peter put down his pipe and began:—Baba Yaga and the little girl with the kind heart.Once upon a time there was a widowed old man who lived alone in a hut with his little daughter. Very merry they were together, and they used to smile at each other over a table just piled with bread and jam. Everything went well, until the old man took it into his head to marry again.Yes, the old man became foolish in the years of his old age, and he took another wife. And so the poor little girl had a stepmother. And after that everything changed. There was no more bread and jam on the table, and no more playing bo-peep, first this side of the samovar and then that, as she sat with her father at tea. It was worse than that, for she never did sit at tea. The stepmother said that everything that went wrong was the little girl’s fault. And the old man believed his new wife, and so there were no more kind words for his little daughter. Day after day the stepmother used to say that the little girl was too naughty to sit at table. And then she would throw her a crust and tell her to get out of the hut and go and eat it somewhere else.And the poor little girl used to go away by herself into the shed in the yard, and wet the dry crust with her tears, and eat it all alone. Ah me! she often wept for the old days, and she often wept at the thought of the days that were to come.Mostly she wept because she was all alone, until one day she found a little friend in the shed. She was hunched up in a corner of the shed, eating her crust and crying bitterly, when she heard a little noise. It was like this: scratch—scratch. It was just that, a little gray mouse who lived in a hole.Out he came, his little pointed nose and his long whiskers, his little round ears and his bright eyes. Out came his little humpy body and his long tail. And then he sat up on his hind legs, and curled his tail twice round himself and looked at the little girl.The little girl, who had a kind heart, forgot all her sorrows, and took a scrap of her crust and threw it to the little mouse. The mouseykin nibbled and nibbled, and there, it was gone, and he was looking for another. She gave him another bit, and presently that was gone, and another and another, until there was no crust left for the little girl. Well, she didn’t mind that. You see, she was so happy seeing the little mouse nibbling and nibbling.When the crust was done the mouseykin looks up at her with his little bright eyes, and “Thank you,” he says, in a little squeaky voice. “Thank you,” he says; “you are a kind little girl, and I am only a mouse, and I’ve eaten all your crust. But there is one thing I can do for you, and that is to tell you to take care. The old woman in the hut (and that was the cruel stepmother) is own sister to Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch. So if ever she sends you on a message to your aunt, you come and tell me. For Baba Yaga would eat you soon enough with her iron teeth if you did not know what to do.”“Oh, thank you,” said the little girl; and just then she heard the stepmother calling to her to come in and clean up the tea things, and tidy the house, and brush out the floor, and clean everybody’s boots.So off she had to go.When she went in she had a good look at her stepmother, and sure enough she had a long nose, and she was as bony as a fish with all the flesh picked off, and the little girl thought of Baba Yaga and shivered, though she did not feel so bad when she remembered the mouseykin out there in the shed in the yard.The very next morning it happened. The old man went off to pay a visit to some friends of his in the next village, just as I go off sometimes to see old Fedor, God be with him. And as soon as the old man was out of sight the wicked stepmother called the little girl.“You are to go to-day to your dear little aunt in the forest,” says she, “and ask her for a needle and thread to mend a shirt.”“But here is a needle and thread,” says the little girl.“Hold your tongue,” says the stepmother, and she gnashes her teeth, and they make a noise like clattering tongs. “Hold your tongue,” she says. “Didn’t I tell you you are to go to-day to your dear little aunt to ask for a needle and thread to mend a shirt?”“How shall I find her?” says the little girl, nearly ready to cry, for she knew that her aunt was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.The stepmother took hold of the little girl’s nose and pinched it.“That is your nose,” she says. “Can you feel it?”“Yes,” says the poor little girl.“You must go along the road into the forest till you come to a fallen tree; then you must turn to your left, and then follow your nose and you will find her,” says the stepmother. “Now, be off with you, lazy one. Here is some food for you to eat by the way.” She gave the little girl a bundle wrapped up in a towel.The little girl wanted to go into the shed to tell the mouseykin she was going to Baba Yaga, and to ask what she should do. But she looked back, and there was the stepmother at the door watching her. So she had to go straight on.She walked along the road through the forest till she came to the fallen tree. Then she turned to the left. Her nose was still hurting where the stepmother had pinched it, so she knew she had to go straight ahead. She was just setting out when she heard a little noise under the fallen tree. “Scratch—scratch.”And out jumped the little mouse, and sat up in the road in front of her.“O mouseykin, mouseykin,” says the little girl, “my stepmother has sent me to her sister. And that is Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch, and I do not know what to do.”“It will not be difficult,” says the little mouse, “because of your kind heart. Take all the things you find in the road, and do with them what you like. Then you will escape from Baba Yaga, and everything will be well.”“Are you hungry, mouseykin?” said the little girl“I could nibble, I think,” says the little mouse.The little girl unfastened the towel, and there was nothing in it but stones. That was what the stepmother had given the little girl to eat by the way.“Oh, I’m so sorry,” says the little girl. “There’s nothing for you to eat.”“Isn’t there?” said mouseykin, and as she looked at them the little girl saw the stones turn to bread and jam. The little girl sat down on the fallen tree, and the little mouse sat beside her, and they ate bread and jam until they were not hungry any more.“Keep the towel,” says the little mouse; “I think it will be useful. And remember what I said about the things you find on the way. And now good-bye,” says he.“Good-bye,” says the little girl, and runs along.As she was running along she found a nice new handkerchief lying in the road. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she found a little bottle of oil. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she found some scraps of meat.“Perhaps I’d better take them too,” she said; and she took them.Then she found a gay blue ribbon, and she took that. Then she found a little loaf of good bread, and she took that too.“I daresay somebody will like it,” she said.And then she came to the hut of Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch. There was a high fence round it with big gates. When she pushed them open they squeaked miserably, as if it hurt them to move. The little girl was sorry for them.“How lucky,” she says, “that I picked up the bottle of oil!” and she poured the oil into the hinges of the gates.Inside the railing was Baba Yaga’s hut, and it stood on hen’s legs and walked about the yard. And in the yard there was standing Baba Yaga’s servant, and she was crying bitterly because of the tasks Baba Yaga set her to do. She was crying bitterly and wiping her eyes on her petticoat.“How lucky,” says the little girl, “that I picked up a handkerchief!” And she gave the handkerchief to Baba Yaga’s servant, who wiped her eyes on it and smiled through her tears.Close by the hut was a huge dog, very thin, gnawing a dry crust.“How lucky,” says the little girl, “that I picked up a loaf!” And she gave the loaf to the dog, and he gobbled it up and licked his lips.The little girl went bravely up to the hut and knocked on the door.“Come in,” says Baba Yaga.The little girl went in, and there was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch, sitting weaving at a loom. In a corner of the hut was a thin black cat watching a mouse-hole.“Good-day to you, auntie,” says the little girl, trying not to tremble.“Good-day to you, niece,” says Baba Yaga.“My stepmother has sent me to you to ask for a needle and thread to mend a shirt.”“Very well,” says Baba Yaga, smiling, and showing her iron teeth. “You sit down here at the loom, and go on with my weaving, while I go and get you the needle and thread.”The little girl sat down at the loom and began to weave.Baba Yaga went out and called to her servant, “Go, make the bath hot and scrub my niece. Scrub her clean. I’ll make a dainty meal of her.”The servant came in for the jug. The little girl begged her, “Be not too quick in making the fire, and carry the water in a sieve.” The servant smiled, but said nothing, because she was afraid of Baba Yaga. But she took a very long time about getting the bath ready.Baba Yaga came to the window and asked,—“Are you weaving, little niece? Are you weaving, my pretty?”“I am weaving, auntie,” says the little girl.When Baba Yaga went away from the window, the little girl spoke to the thin black cat who was watching the mouse-hole.“What are you doing, thin black cat?”“Watching for a mouse,” says the thin black cat. “I haven’t had any dinner for three days.”“How lucky,” says the little girl, “that I picked up the scraps of meat!” And she gave them to the thin black cat. The thin black cat gobbled them up, and said to the little girl,—“Little girl, do you want to get out of this?”“Catkin dear,” says the little girl, “I do want to get out of this, for Baba Yaga is going to eat me with her iron teeth.”“Well,” says the cat, “I will help you.”Just then Baba Yaga came to the window.“Are you weaving, little niece?” she asked. “Are you weaving, my pretty?”“I am weaving, auntie,” says the little girl, working away, while the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.Baba Yaga went away.Says the thin black cat to the little girl: “You have a comb in your hair, and you have a towel. Take them and run for it while Baba Yaga is in the bath-house. When Baba Yaga chases after you, you must listen; and when she is close to you, throw away the towel, and it will turn into a big, wide river. It will take her a little time to get over that. But when she does, you must listen; and as soon as she is close to you throw away the comb, and it will sprout up into such a forest that she will never get through it at all.”“But she’ll hear the loom stop,” says the little girl.“I’ll see to that,” says the thin black cat.The cat took the little girl’s place at the loom.Clickety clack, clickety clack; the loom never stopped for a moment.The little girl looked to see that Baba Yaga was in the bath-house, and then she jumped down from the little hut on hen’s legs, and ran to the gates as fast as her legs could flicker.The big dog leapt up to tear her to pieces. Just as he was going to spring on her he saw who she was.“Why, this is the little girl who gave me the loaf,” says he. “A good journey to you, little girl;” and he lay down again with his head between his paws.When she came to the gates they opened quietly, quietly, without making any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into their hinges.Outside the gates there was a little birch tree that beat her in the eyes so that she could not go by.“How lucky,” says the little girl, “that I picked up the ribbon!” And she tied up the birch tree with the pretty blue ribbon. And the birch tree was so pleased with the ribbon that it stood still, admiring itself, and let the little girl go by.How she did run!Meanwhile the thin black cat sat at the loom. Clickety clack, clickety clack, sang the loom; but you never saw such a tangle as the tangle made by the thin black cat.And presently Baba Yaga came to the window.“Are you weaving, little niece?” she asked. “Are you weaving, my pretty?”“I am weaving, auntie,” says the thin black cat, tangling and tangling, while the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.“That’s not the voice of my little dinner,” says Baba Yaga, and she jumped into the hut, gnashing her iron teeth; and there was no little girl, but only the thin black cat, sitting at the loom, tangling and tangling the threads.“Grr,” says Baba Yaga, and jumps for the cat, and begins banging it about. “Why didn’t you tear the little girl’s eyes out?”“In all the years I have served you,” says the cat, “you have only given me one little bone; but the kind little girl gave me scraps of meat.”Baba Yaga threw the cat into a corner, and went out into the yard.“Why didn’t you squeak when she opened you?” she asked the gates.“Why didn’t you tear her to pieces?” she asked the dog.“Why didn’t you beat her in the face, and not let her go by?” she asked the birch tree.“Why were you so long in getting the bath ready? If you had been quicker, she never would have got away,” said Baba Yaga to the servant.And she rushed about the yard, beating them all, and scolding at the top of her voice.“Ah!” said the gates, “in all the years we have served you, you never even eased us with water; but the kind little girl poured good oil into our hinges.”“Ah!” said the dog, “in all the years I’ve served you, you never threw me anything but burnt crusts; but the kind little girl gave me a good loaf.”“Ah!” said the little birch tree, “in all the years I’ve served you, you never tied me up, even with thread; but the kind little girl tied me up with a gay blue ribbon.”“Ah!” said the servant, “in all the years I’ve served you, you have never given me even a rag; but the kind little girl gave me a pretty handkerchief.”Baba Yaga gnashed at them with her iron teeth. Then she jumped into the mortar and sat down. She drove it along with the pestle, and swept up her tracks with a besom, and flew off in pursuit of the little girl.The little girl ran and ran. She put her ear to the ground and listened. Bang, bang, bangety bang! she could hear Baba Yaga beating the mortar with the pestle. Baba Yaga was quite close. There she was, beating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the road.As quickly as she could, the little girl took out the towel and threw it on the ground. And the towel grew bigger and bigger, and wetter and wetter, and there was a deep, broad river between Baba Yaga and the little girl.The little girl turned and ran on. How she ran!Baba Yaga came flying up in the mortar. But the mortar could not float in the river with Baba Yaga inside. She drove it in, but only got wet for her trouble. Tongs and pokers tumbling down a chimney are nothing to the noise she made as she gnashed her iron teeth. She turned home, and went flying back to the little hut on hen’s legs. Then she got together all her cattle and drove them to the river.“Drink, drink!” she screamed at them; and the cattle drank up all the river to the last drop. And Baba Yaga, sitting in the mortar, drove it with the pestle, and swept up her tracks with the besom, and flew over the dry bed of the river and on in pursuit of the little girl.The little girl put her ear to the ground and listened. Bang, bang, bangety bang! She could hear Baba Yaga beating the mortar with the pestle. Nearer and nearer came the noise, and there was Baba Yaga, beating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the road close behind.The little girl threw down the comb, and grew bigger and bigger, and its teeth sprouted up into a thick forest, thicker than this forest where we live—so thick that not even Baba Yaga could force her way through. And Baba Yaga, gnashing her teeth and screaming with rage and disappointment, turned round and drove away home to her little hut on hen’s legs.The little girl ran on home. She was afraid to go in and see her stepmother, so she ran into the shed.Scratch, scratch! Out came the little mouse.“So you got away all right, my dear,” says the little mouse. “Now run in. Don’t be afraid. Your father is back, and you must tell him all about it.”The little girl went into the house.“Where have you been?” says her father; “and why are you so out of breath?”The stepmother turned yellow when she saw her, and her eyes glowed, and her teeth ground together until they broke.But the little girl was not afraid, and she went to her father and climbed on his knee, and told him everything just as it had happened. And when the old man knew that the stepmother had sent his little daughter to be eaten by Baba Yaga, he was so angry that he drove her out of the hut, and ever afterwards lived alone with the little girl. Much better it was for both of them.“And the little mouse?” said Ivan.“The little mouse,” said old Peter, “came and lived in the hut, and every day it used to sit up on the table and eat crumbs, and warm its paws on the little girl’s glass of tea.”“Tell us a story about a cat, please, grandfather,” said Vanya, who was sitting with Vladimir curled up in his arms.“The story of a very happy cat,” said Maroosia; and then, scratching Bayan’s nose, she added, “and afterwards a story about a dog.”“I’ll tell you the story of a very unhappy cat who became very happy,” said old Peter. “I’ll tell you the story of the Cat who became Head-forester.”
Rejoicing on their tyrant’s wedding-day,The people drown’d their care in drink;While from the general joy did Æsop shrink,And show’d its folly in this way.“The sun,” said he, “once took it in his headTo have a partner: so he wed.From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs,Up rose the wailings of the frogs.“What shall we do, should he have progeny?”Said they to Destiny;‘One sun we scarcely can endure,And half-a-dozen, we are sure,Will dry the very sea.Adieu to marsh and fen!Our race will perish then,Or be obliged to fixTheir dwelling in the Styx!’For such an humble animal,The frog, I take it, reason’d well.”
An honest farmer had once an ass that had been a faithful hard-working slave to him for a great many years, but was now growing old, and every day more and more unfit for work. His master therefore was tired of keeping him to live at ease like a gentleman, and so began to think of putting an end to him. The ass, who was a shrewd hand, saw that some mischief was in the wind, so he took himself slily off, and began his journey towards Bremen.“There,” thought he to himself, “as I have a good voice, I may chance to be chosen town musician.”After he had travelled a little way, he spied a dog lying by the roadside, and panting as if very tired.“What makes you pant so, my friend?” said the ass.“Alas!” said the dog, “my master was going to knock me on the head, because I am old and weak, and can no longer make myself useful to him in hunting, so I ran away. But what can I do to earn my livelihood?”“Hark ye,” said the ass, “I am going to Bremen to turn musician. Come with me, and try what you can do in the same way.”The dog said he was willing, and on they went.They had not gone far before they saw a cat sitting in the middle of the road, with tears in her eyes, and making a most rueful face.“Pray, my good lady,” said the ass, “what’s the matter with you? You look quite out of spirits.”“Ah, me!” said the cat. “How can a body be in good spirits when one’s life is in danger? Because I am beginning to grow old, and had rather lie at my ease before the fire than run about the house after the mice, my mistress laid hold of me, and was going to drown me, and though I have been lucky enough to get away from her, I know not how I am to live.”“Oh!” said the ass, “by all means go with us to Bremen. You are a good night-singer, and may make your fortune as one of the waits.”The cat was pleased with the thought, and joined the party. Soon afterwards, as they were passing by a farmyard, they saw a cock perched upon a gate, screaming out with all his might and main.“Bravo!” said the ass. “Upon my word, you make a famous noise. Pray, what is all this about?”“Why,” said the cock, “I was just now telling all our neighbours that we were to have fine weather for our washing-day; and yet my mistress and the cook don’t thank me for my pains, but threaten to cut my head off to-morrow, and make broth of me for the guests that are coming on Sunday.”“Heaven forbid!” said the ass. “Come with us. Anything will be better than staying here. Besides, who knows, if we take care to sing in tune, we may get up a concert of our own, so come along with us.”“With all my heart,” replied the cock; so they all four went on jollily together towards Bremen.They could not, however, reach the town the first day, so when night came on they turned off the high-road into a wood to sleep. The ass and the dog laid themselves down under a great tree, and the cat climbed up into the branches; while the cock, thinking that the higher he sat the safer he should be, flew up to the very top of the tree, and then, according to his custom, before he sounded his trumpet and went to sleep, looked out on all sides to see that everything was well. In doing this he saw afar off something bright, and calling to his companions, said—“There must be a house no great way off, for I see a light.”“If that be the case,” replied the ass, “we had better change our quarters, for our lodging here is not the best in the world.”“Besides,” said the dog, “I should not be the worse for a bone or two.”“And may be,” remarked the cat, “a stray mouse will be found somewhere about the premises.”So they walked off together towards the spot where the cock had seen the light; and as they drew near, it became larger and brighter, till they came at last to a lonely house, in which was a gang of robbers.The ass, being the tallest of the company, marched up to the window and peeped in.“Well,” said the cock, “what do you see?”“What do I see?” replied the ass. “Why, I see a table spread with all kinds of good things, and robbers sitting round it making merry.”“That would be a noble lodging for us,” said the cock.“Yes,” rejoined the ass, “if we could only get in.”They laid their heads together to see how they could get the robbers out, and at last they hit upon a plan. The ass set himself upright on his hind-legs, with his fore-feet resting on the window; the dog got upon his back; the cat scrambled up to the dog’s shoulders, and the cock flew up and sat upon the cat. When all were ready the cock gave the signal, and up struck the whole band of music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crew. Then they all broke through the window at once, and came tumbling into the room amongst the broken glass, with a hideous clatter. The robbers, who had been not a little frightened by the opening concert, had now no doubt that some frightful hobgoblins had broken in upon them, and scampered away as fast as they could.The coast once clear, the travellers soon sat down and despatched what the robbers had left, with as much eagerness as if they had not hoped to eat again for a month. As soon as they had had enough they put out the lights, and each once more sought out a resting-place to his liking. The donkey laid himself down upon a heap of straw in the yard; the dog stretched himself upon a mat behind the door; the cat rolled herself up on the hearth before the warm ashes; the cock perched upon a beam on the top of the house; and as all were rather tired with their journey, they soon fell fast asleep.About midnight, however, when the robbers saw from afar that the lights were out and that all was quiet, they began to think that they had been in too great a hurry to run away; and one of them, who was bolder than the rest, went to see what was going on. Finding everything still, he marched into the kitchen, and groped about till he found a match in order to light a candle. Espying the glittering fiery eyes of the cat, he mistook them for live coals, and held the match to them to light it. The cat, however, not understanding such a joke, sprang at his face, and spat, and scratched him. This frightened him dreadfully, and away he ran to the back door, where the dog jumped up and bit him in the leg. As he was crossing over the yard the ass kicked him; and the cock, who had been awakened by the noise, crew with all his might.At this the robber ran back as fast as he could to his comrades, and told the captain that a horrid witch had got into the house, and had scratched his face with her long bony fingers—that a man with a knife in his hand had hidden himself behind the door, and stabbed him in the leg—that a black monster stood in the yard and struck him with a club—and that the devil sat upon the top of the house, and cried out—“Throw the rascal up here!”After this the robbers never dared to go back to the house; but the musicians were so pleased with their quarters, that they never found their way to Bremen, but took up their abode in the wood. And there they live, I dare say, to this very day.
He left Hindfell and he came into a kingdom that was ruled over by a people that were called the Nibelungs as Sigurd’s people were called the Volsungs. Giuki was the name of the King of that land.Giuki and his Queen and all their sons gave a great welcome to Sigurd when he came to their hall, for he looked such a one as might win the name of being the world’s greatest hero. And Sigurd went to war beside the King’s sons, Gunnar and Högni, and the three made great names for themselves, but Sigurd’s shone high above the others.When they came back from that war there were great rejoicings in the hall of the Nibelungs, and Sigurd’s heart was filled with friendship for all the Nibelung race; he had love for the King’s sons, Gunnar and Högni, and with Gunnar and Högni he swore oaths of brotherhood. Henceforward he and they would be as brethren. King Giuki had a stepson named Guttorm and he was not bound in the oath that bound Sigurd and the others in brotherhood.After the war they had waged Sigurd spent a whole winter in the hall of the Nibelungs. His heart was full of memories of Brynhild and of longings to ride to her in the House of Flame and to take her with him to the kingdom that King Giuki would have given him. But as yet he would not go back to her, for he had sworn to give his brethren further help.One day, as he rode by himself, he heard birds talk to each other and he knew the words they were saying. One said, “There is Sigurd who wears the wondrous helmet that he took out of Fafnir’s hoard.” And the other bird said, “He knows not that by that helmet he can change his shape as Fafnir changed his shape, and make him look like this creature or that creature, or this man or that man.” And the third bird said, “He knows not that the helmet can do anything so wonderful for him.”He rode back to the hall of the Nibelungs, and at the supperboard he told them what he had heard the birds say. He showed them the wondrous helmet. Also he told them how he had slain Fafnir the Dragon, and of how he had won the mighty hoard for himself. His two sworn brothers who were there rejoiced that he had such wondrous possessions.But more precious than the hoard and more wondrous than the helmet was the memory of Brynhild that he had. But of this he said no word.Grimhild was the name of the Queen. She was the mother of Gunnar and Högni and their half-brother Guttorm. And she and the King had one daughter whose name was Gudrun. Now Grimhild was one of the wisest of women, and she knew when she looked upon him that Sigurd was the world’s greatest warrior. She would have him belong to the Nibelungs, not only by the oaths of brotherhood he had sworn with Gunnar and Högni, but by other ties. And when she heard of the great hoard that was his she had greater wish and will that he should be one with the Nibelungs. She looked on the helmet of gold and on the great armring that he wore, and she made it her heart’s purpose that Sigurd should wed with Gudrun, her daughter. But neither Sigurd nor the maiden Gudrun knew of Grimhild’s resolve.And the Queen, watching Sigurd closely, knew that he had a remembrance in his breast that held him from seeing Gudrun’s loveliness. She had knowledge of spells and secret brews (she was of the race of Borghild whose brew had destroyed Sinfiotli’s life) and she knew that she could make a potion that would destroy the memory Sigurd held.She mixed the potion. Then one night when there was feasting in the hall of the Nibelungs, she gave the cup that held the potion into the hands of Gudrun and bade her carry it to Sigurd.Sigurd took the cup out of the hands of the fair Nibelung maiden and he drank the potion. When he had drunk it he put the cup down and he stood amongst the feasters like a man in a dream. And like a man in a dream he went into his chamber, and for a day and a night afterwards he was silent and his mind was astray. When he rode out with Gunnar and Högni they would say to him, “What is it thou hast lost, brother?” Sigurd could not tell them. But what he had lost was all memory of Brynhild the Valkyrie in the House of Flame.He saw Gudrun and it was as though he looked upon her for the first time. Soft were the long tresses of her hair; soft were her hands. Her eyes were like woodflowers, and her ways and her speech were gentle. Yet was she noble in her bearing as became a Princess who would come into a kingdom. And from the first time she had seen him upon Grani, his proud horse, and with his golden helmet above his golden hair, Gudrun had loved Sigurd.At the season when the wild swans came to the lake Gudrun went down to watch them build their nests. And while she was there Sigurd rode through the pines. He saw her, and her beauty made the whole place change. He stopped his horse and listened to her voice as she sang to the wild swans, sang the song that Völund made for Alvit, his swan-bride.No more was Sigurd’s heart empty of memory: it was filled with the memory of Gudrun as he saw her by the lake when the wild swans were building their nests. And now he watched her in the hall, sitting with her mother embroidering, or serving her father or her brothers, and tenderness for the maiden kept growing in his heart.A day came when he asked Gunnar and Högni, his sworn brethren, for Gudrun. They were glad as though a great fortune had befallen them. And they brought him before Giuki the King, and Grimhild the Queen. It seemed as if they had cast off all trouble and care and entered into the prime of their life and power, so greatly did the King and the Queen rejoice at Sigurd’s becoming one with the Nibelungs through his marriage with Gudrun.When Gudrun heard that Sigurd had asked for her, she said to the Queen: “Oh, my mother, your wisdom should have strengthened me to bear such joy. How can I show him that he is so dear, so dear to me? But I shall try not to show it, for he might deem that there was no sense in me but sense to love him. So great a warrior would not care for such love. I would be with him as a battle-maiden.”Sigurd and Gudrun were wed and all the kingdom that the Nibelungs ruled over rejoiced. And Queen Grimhild thought that though the effect of the potion she gave would wear away, his love for Gudrun would ever fill his heart, and that no other memory would be able to find a place there.
There was a certain village where lived many rich farmers and only one poor one, whom they called the Little Farmer. He had not even a cow, and still less had he money to buy one; and he and his wife greatly wished for such a thing. One day he said to her,“Listen, I have a good idea; it is that your godfather the joiner shall make us a calf of wood and paint it brown, so as to look just like any other; and then in time perhaps it will grow big and become a cow.”This notion pleased the wife, and godfather joiner set to work to saw and plane, and soon turned out a calf complete, with its head down and neck stretched out as if it were grazing.The next morning, as the cows were driven to pasture, the Little Farmer called out to the drover,“Look here, I have got a little calf to go, but it is still young and must be carried.”“All right!” said the drover, and tucked it under his arm, carried it into the meadows, and stood it in the grass. So the calf stayed where it was put, and seemed to be eating all the time, and the drover thought to himself,“It will soon be able to run alone, if it grazes at that rate!”In the evening, when the herds had to be driven home, he said to the calf, “If you can stand there eating like that, you can just walk off on your own four legs; I am not going to lug you under my arm again!”But the Little Farmer was standing by his house-door, and waiting for his calf; and when he saw the cow-herd coming through the village without it, he asked what it meant. The cow-herd answered, “It is still out there eating away, and never attended to the call, and would not come with the rest.”Then the Little Farmer said,“I will tell you what, I must have my beast brought home.”And they went together through the fields in quest of it, but some one had stolen it, and it was gone. And the drover said,“Most likely it has run away.”But the Little Farmer said “Not it!” and brought the cow-herd before the bailiff, who ordered him for his carelessness to give the Little Farmer a cow for the missing calf.So now the Little Farmer and his wife possessed their long-wished-for cow; they rejoiced with all their hearts, but unfortunately they had no fodder for it, and could give it nothing to eat, so that before long they had to kill it. Its flesh they salted down, and the Little Farmer went to the town to sell the skin and buy a new calf with what he got for it. On the way he came to a mill, where a raven was sitting with broken wings, and he took it up out of pity and wrapped it in the skin. The weather was very stormy, and it blew and rained, so he turned into the mill and asked for shelter. The miller’s wife was alone in the house, and she said to the Little Farmer,“Well, come in and lay thee down in the straw,” and she gave him a piece of bread and cheese. So the Little Farmer ate, and then lay down with his skin near him, and the miller’s wife thought he was sleeping with fatigue. After a while in came another man, and the miller’s wife received him very well, saying,“My husband is out; we will make good cheer.”The Little Farmer listened to what they said, and when he heard good cheer spoken of, he grew angry to think he had been put off with bread and cheese. For the miller’s wife presently brought out roast meat, salad, cakes, and wine.Now as the pair were sitting down to their feast, there came a knock at the door.“Oh dear,” cried the woman, “it is my husband!” In a twinkling she popped the roast meat into the oven, the wine under the pillow, the salad in the bed, the cakes under the bed, and the man in the linen-closet. Then she opened the door to her husband, saying,“Thank goodness, you are here! what weather it is, as if the world were coming to an end!”When the miller saw the Little Farmer lying in the straw, he said,“What fellow have you got there?”“Oh!” said the wife, “the poor chap came in the midst of the wind and rain and asked for shelter, and I gave him some bread and cheese and spread some straw for him.”The husband answered, “Oh well, I have no objection, only get me something to eat at once.”But the wife said, “There is nothing but bread and cheese.”“Anything will do for me,” answered the miller, “bread and cheese for ever!” and catching sight of the Little Farmer, he cried,“Come along, and keep me company!” The Little Farmer did not wait to be asked twice, but sat down and ate. After a while the miller noticed the skin lying on the ground with the raven wrapped up in it, and he said, “What have you got there?”The Little Farmer answered, “A fortune-teller.”And the miller asked “Can he tell my fortune?”“Why not?” answered the Little Farmer. “He will tell four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.” Now the miller became very curious, and said, “Ask him to say something.”And the Little Farmer pinched the raven, so that it croaked, “Crr, crr.” “What does he say?” asked the miller. And the Little Farmer answered,“First he says that there is wine under the pillow.”“That would be jolly!” cried the miller, and he went to look, and found the wine, and then asked, “What next?”So the Little Farmer made the raven croak again, and then said,“He says, secondly, that there is roast meat in the oven.”“That would be jolly!” cried the miller, and he went and looked, and found the roast meat. The Little Farmer made the fortune-teller speak again, and then said,“He says, thirdly, that there is salad in the bed.”“That would be jolly!” cried the miller, and went and looked, and found the salad. Once more the Little Farmer pinched the raven, so that he croaked, and said,“He says, fourthly and lastly, that there are cakes under the bed.”“That would be jolly!” cried the miller, and he went and looked, and found the cakes.And now the two sat down to table, and the miller’s wife felt very uncomfortable, and she went to bed and took all the keys with her. The miller was eager to know what the fifth thing could be, but the Little Farmer said,“Suppose we eat the four things in peace first, for the fifth thing is a great deal worse.”So they sat and ate, and while they ate, they bargained together as to how much the miller would give for knowing the fifth thing; and at last they agreed upon three hundred dollars. Then the Little Farmer pinched the raven, so that he croaked aloud. And the miller asked what he said, and the Little Farmer answered,“He says that there is a demon in the linen-closet.”“Then,” said the miller, “that demon must out of the linen-closet,” and he unbarred the house-door, while the Little Farmer got the key of the linen-closet from the miller’s wife, and opened it. Then the man rushed forth, and out of the house, and the miller said,“I saw the black rogue with my own eyes; so that is a good riddance.”And the Little Farmer took himself off by daybreak next morning with the three hundred dollars.And after this the Little Farmer by degrees got on in the world, and built himself a good house, and the other farmers said,“Surely the Little Farmer has been where it rains gold pieces, and has brought home money by the bushel.”And he was summoned before the bailiff to say whence his riches came. And all he said was,“I sold my calf’s skin for three hundred dollars.”When the other farmers heard this they wished to share such good luck, and ran home, killed all their cows, skinned them in order to sell them also for the same high price as the Little Farmer. And the bailiff said, “I must be beforehand with them.” So he sent his servant into the town to the skin-buyer, and he only gave her three dollars for the skin, and that was faring better than the others, for when they came, they did not get as much as that, for the skin-buyer said,“What am I to do with all these skins?”Now the other farmers were very angry with the Little Farmer for misleading them, and they vowed vengeance against him, and went to complain of his deceit to the bailiff. The poor Little Farmer was with one voice sentenced to death, and to be put into a cask with holes in it, and rolled into the water. So he was led to execution, and a priest was fetched to say a mass for him, and the rest of the people had to stand at a distance. As soon as the Little Farmer caught sight of the priest he knew him for the man who was hid in the linen-closet at the miller’s. And he said to him,“As I let you out of the cupboard, you must let me out of the cask.”At that moment a shepherd passed with a flock of sheep, and the Little Farmer knowing him to have a great wish to become bailiff himself, called out with all his might,“No, I will not, and if all the world asked me, I would not!”The shepherd, hearing him, came up and asked what it was he would not do. The Little Farmer answered,“They want to make me bailiff, if I sit in this cask, but I will not do it!”The shepherd said,“If that is all there is to do in order to become bailiff I will sit in the cask and welcome.” And the Little Farmer answered,“Yes, that is all, just you get into the cask, and you will become bailiff.” So the shepherd agreed, and got in, and the Little Farmer fastened on the top; then he collected the herd of sheep and drove them away. The priest went back to the parish-assembly, and told them the mass had been said. Then they came and began to roll the cask into the water, and as it went the shepherd inside called out, “I consent to be bailiff!”They thought that it was the Little Farmer who spoke, and they answered,“All right; but first you must go down below and look about you a little,” and they rolled the cask into the water.Upon that the farmers went home, and when they reached the village, there they met the Little Farmer driving a flock of sheep, and looking quite calm and contented. The farmers were astonished and cried,“Little Farmer, whence come you? how did you get out of the water?”“Oh, easily,” answered he, “I sank and sank until I came to the bottom; then I broke through the cask and came out of it, and there were beautiful meadows and plenty of sheep feeding, so I brought away this flock with me.”Then said the farmers, “Are there any left?”“Oh yes,” answered the Little Farmer, “more than you can possibly need.”Then the farmers agreed that they would go and fetch some sheep also, each man a flock for himself; and the bailiff said, “Me first.” And they all went together, and in the blue sky there were little fleecy clouds like lambkins, and they were reflected in the water; and the farmers cried out,“There are the sheep down there at the bottom.”When the bailiff heard that he pressed forward and said,“I will go first and look about me, and if things look well, I will call to you.”And he jumped plump into the water, and they all thought that the noise he made meant “Come,” so the whole company jumped in one after the other. So perished all the proprietors of the village, and the Little Farmer, as sole heir, became a rich man.
A tailor and a goldsmith were travelling together, and one evening when the sun had sunk behind the mountains, they heard the sound of distant music, which became more and more distinct. It sounded strange, but so pleasant that they forgot all their weariness and stepped quickly onwards. The moon had already arisen when they reached a hill on which they saw a crowd of little men and women, who had taken each other’s hands, and were whirling round in the dance with the greatest pleasure and delight.They sang to it most charmingly, and that was the music which the travellers had heard. In the midst of them sat an old man who was rather taller than the rest. He wore a parti-coloured coat, and his iron-grey beard hung down over his breast. The two remained standing full of astonishment, and watched the dance. The old man made a sign that they should enter, and the little folks willingly opened their circle. The goldsmith, who had a hump, and like all hunchbacks was brave enough, stepped in; the tailor felt a little afraid at first, and held back, but when he saw how merrily all was going, he plucked up his courage, and followed. The circle closed again directly, and the little folks went on singing and dancing with the wildest leaps. The old man, however, took a large knife which hung to his girdle, whetted it, and when it was sufficiently sharpened, he looked round at the strangers. They were terrified, but they had not much time for reflection, for the old man seized the goldsmith and with the greatest speed, shaved the hair of his head clean off, and then the same thing happened to the tailor. But their fear left them when, after he had finished his work, the old man clapped them both on the shoulder in a friendly manner, as much as to say, they had behaved well to let all that be done to them willingly, and without any struggle. He pointed with his finger to a heap of coals which lay at one side, and signified to the travellers by his gestures that they were to fill their pockets with them. Both of them obeyed, although they did not know of what use the coals would be to them, and then they went on their way to seek a shelter for the night. When they had got into the valley, the clock of the neighbouring monastery struck twelve, and the song ceased. In a moment all had vanished, and the hill lay in solitude in the moonlight.The two travellers found an inn, and covered themselves up on their straw-beds with their coats, but in their weariness forgot to take the coals out of them before doing so. A heavy weight on their limbs awakened them earlier than usual. They felt in the pockets, and could not believe their eyes when they saw that they were not filled with coals, but with pure gold; happily, too, the hair of their heads and beards was there again as thick as ever.They had now become rich folks, but the goldsmith, who, in accordance with his greedy disposition, had filled his pockets better, was as rich again as the tailor. A greedy man, even if he has much, still wishes to have more, so the goldsmith proposed to the tailor that they should wait another day, and go out again in the evening in order to bring back still greater treasures from the old man on the hill. The tailor refused, and said, “I have enough and am content; now I shall be a master, and marry my dear object (for so he called his sweetheart), and I am a happy man.” But he stayed another day to please him. In the evening the goldsmith hung a couple of bags over his shoulders that he might be able to stow away a great deal, and took the road to the hill. He found, as on the night before, the little folks at their singing and dancing, and the old man again shaved him clean, and signed to him to take some coal away with him. He was not slow about sticking as much into his bags as would go, went back quite delighted, and covered himself over with his coat. “Even if the gold does weigh heavily,” said he, “I will gladly bear that,” and at last he fell asleep with the sweet anticipation of waking in the morning an enormously rich man.When he opened his eyes, he got up in haste to examine his pockets, but how amazed he was when he drew nothing out of them but black coals, and that howsoever often he put his hands in them. “The gold I got the night before is still there for me,” thought he, and went and brought it out, but how shocked he was when he saw that it likewise had again turned into coal. He smote his forehead with his dusty black hand, and then he felt that his whole head was bald and smooth, as was also the place where his beard should have been. But his misfortunes were not yet over; he now remarked for the first time that in addition to the hump on his back, a second, just as large, had grown in front on his breast. Then he recognized the punishment of his greediness, and began to weep aloud. The good tailor, who was wakened by this, comforted the unhappy fellow as well as he could, and said, “Thou hast been my comrade in my travelling time; thou shalt stay with me and share in my wealth.” He kept his word, but the poor goldsmith was obliged to carry the two humps as long as he lived, and to cover his bald head with a cap.
Once upon a time there was a wicked widow who had an ugly daughter. She married a second husband who had a beautiful daughter and a son by his first wife. The step-mother hated the two motherless children, and used every means to persuade her husband to take them away to the mountains and abandon them as a prey to wild beasts. The poor man loved his children, but being frail was unable to resist the frequent importunities and threats of his wife. Therefore one day he put bread in a bag, and taking the two children went to the mountains. After a long journey they came to a lonely wilderness. The man said to the children:“Sit here and take a little rest,” and then, turning his face away, he began to sob bitterly.“Father! father, why are you weeping?” exclaimed the children, and they also began to weep.The man opened the bag and gave them bread, which they soon ate.“Father,” said the boy, “I am thirsty.”The man drove his stick into the ground, and placing his cloak over the stick, said:“Come, children, sit here under the shadow of this cloak; I will go and see if there is a fountain near by.”The children seated themselves under the cloak, while their father disappeared behind the trees and rocks.After waiting a long time, the two innocent children grew tired and began to ramble about in search of their father, but in vain.“Father! father!” they exclaimed, but only the echo of the mountains returned them answer—“Father! father!”The children came back, crying: “Alas! alas! the stick is here, the cloak is here, but father is not here!”Thus they cried for a long time, but seeing that nobody appeared, they rose up, and one of them took the stick and the other the cloak and they began to wander about in the wilderness, not knowing where to go. After a long ramble, they came to a place where some rain-water had gathered on the ground in a print made by the hoof of a horse.“Sister,” said the little boy, “I am thirsty; I want to drink of this water.”“No,” said the maiden, “do not drank of this water; as soon as you drink of it you will become a colt.”Soon they came to another print made by the hoof of an ox, and the boy said:“Sister, I am thirsty; I want to drink.”But she would not let him drink, saying: “As soon as you drink of this water you will become a calf.”Then they came to another print made by the paw of a bear, and the boy wanted to drink; but his sister prevented him lest he should become a cub of a bear. Then they came to a track made by the foot of a pig, and the boy again wanted to drink, but the maiden prevented him, lest he should turn into a young pig. Soon they came to a print made by the foot of a wolf; but the boy did not yield till they came to one made by the hoof of a lamb.“Sister,” exclaimed the boy, “I am thirsty; I cannot wait any longer; I will drink from this at any risk.”“Alas!” said the maiden, “what can I do? I am ready to give my life to save you, but it is impossible. You will turn into a lamb the moment you drink of this water.”The boy drank, and was at once changed into a lamb, and began to follow his sister bleating. After a long and dangerous journey they found the way to the town, and came to their house. The step-mother was angry to see them come back, though one of them was now but a lamb. As she had great influence over her husband, he used every means to please her. One day she said to him:“I want to eat meat; you must kill your lamb that I may eat it.”The sister, hearing this, at once took her lamb-brother and fled secretly to the mountains, where, sitting on a high rock, she spun wool while the lamb grazed safely near her. As she was thus spinning, her spindle fell suddenly from her hand, and was precipitated into a deep cave. The maiden, leaving the lamb grazing, went down to find her spindle. Entering the cave, she was surprised to see an old fairy woman, a dame a thousand years of age, who perceiving the maiden, exclaimed: “Maiden, neither the bird with its wing, nor the snake on its belly can enter here; how could you venture to come hither?”The terrified maiden was at a loss for an answer, but she replied with a gentle voice: “Your love brought me here, grandmother.”The old fairy was pleased with this kind answer, and calling the maiden, gave her a seat beside herself and inquired of her many things concerning the upper world. The more she talked with the maiden the better she liked her and she said:“Now you are hungry; let me bring you some fishes to eat.”She went into the cave, and returned with a plateful of cooked snakes, at the sight of which the maiden shuddered with horror and began to weep.“What is the matter?” inquired the old dame; “why are you weeping?”“Nothing at all,” answered the maiden, shyly; “I remembered my dead mother who was so fond of fish, and therefore I wept.”Then she told the old dame her sad story, and the ill treatment of the wicked step-mother. The fairy woman was very much interested in what the maiden told her, and said to her:“Be seated, and let me sleep in your lap. In yonder fire-place there is a ploughshare heated in the fire. When the Black Fairy passes do not waken me; but when the Red-and-Green Fairy passes, at once press the red-hot ploughshare on my feet, that I may awake.”The poor maiden shuddered with fear, but she could do nothing but consent. Accordingly the old fairy woman lay down in the maiden’s lap and slept. Soon a fairy as black as night passed through the cave; but the maiden did not stir. After him the Red-and-Green Fairy appeared and the whole cave was gilded with his radiant beams. The maiden at once pressed the red-hot ploughshare on the feet of the sleeping fairy woman, who immediately started up exclaiming:“Oh! what is biting my feet?”The maiden told her that nothing had bitten her, but it was the red-hot ploughshare she felt, and that it was time to get up. The old dame arose and at once caused the maiden to stand up as the Red-and-Green Fairy proceeded, whose gleaming rays had such an effect upon her that her hair and garments were all turned to gold and she herself was turned into a fairy maiden. After the Red-and-Green Fairy disappeared, the maiden, kissing the fairy woman’s hand, took leave of her, and taking her lamb-brother, went home. Seeing that the step-mother was not at home, she at once took off her golden garments and hiding them in a secret comer, put on her old rags. Soon the step-mother entered, and seeing the golden hair of the maiden, exclaimed:“How now, little elf! what did you do to your hair to turn it into gold?”The maiden told her what had taken place. On the following day the step-mother sent her own daughter to the same spot. There, on purpose, she let her spindle fall, and entered the cave as if to pick it up. The fairy woman saw her, and taking a dislike to her, changed her into an ugly thing, so ugly that it is impossible to describe her appearance. She came home, and the step-mother seeing her own daughter changed into a form of so great ugliness, was the more enraged against the two step-children.One day the Prince of that country sent out heralds to proclaim all over his realm that his son was to be married, and that the most beautiful maiden in all the land should be his bride. He commanded all the marriageable maidens to assemble in the palace courtyard where the young Prince would make his selection. At the appointed time all the maidens of the land had crowded into the courtyard. The step-mother dressed her own daughter in the best garments and ornaments she could procure, veiling her ugly face very carefully, however, and took her to the courtyard, hoping that the Prince would select her for his bride. In order to prevent the orphan maiden from appearing before the Prince, the step-mother scattered a measure of wheat in the yard, and bade the maiden to pick up the wheat before she returned, threatening to beat her to death in case she failed to finish the task. Soon after the step-mother went away, however, the maiden let loose the chickens, which in a moment picked the wheat up to the very last grain; and she, putting on her golden garments, was changed to a fairy maiden so beautiful that she might say to the sun: “Sun, you need not shine, for I am shining.”Then she went to the Prince’s courtyard, where she was the object of the admiration of all the crowd. But she could not stay very long lest her step-mother should return first, and not finding her at home should beat her upon her return, so she ran hastily back, and hiding her golden garments put on her old rags. But in her haste she had dropped one of her golden slippers in the Prince’s fountain.Soon the young Prince, who had looked at the maidens without making a selection, came on horseback leading his animal to the fountain to water him; but the horse was frightened by the radiant beams from the slipper. The servants immediately entered the fountain, and taking out the slipper gave it to the Prince, who seeing it at once declared that the maiden who wore that slipper should be his bride. He and his peers began to search every house and to try the feet of the maidens to find the true owner of the slipper. They had just approached the house of the Golden Maiden, when the step-mother took her and hid her in the great kitchen pit which is used as a furnace, presenting her own ugly daughter as the owner of the golden slipper. Of course, the slipper did not fit. As the Prince and his peers were leaving the house, the cock flying from his roost perched on the top of the door, and cried:“Goo-goo-lig-goo-goo! the Golden Maiden is in the pit!”The pit was immediately opened, and lo! the maiden jumped out. The slipper fitted, and the maiden, taking out her golden garments and the mate of the slipper from the corner where she had hid them, put them on, and was changed to a fairy maiden. The Prince seeing this embraced her as his bride. Taking the lamb-brother with them, they went to the Prince’s palace, where their nuptials were celebrated for seven days and seven nights.One day the step-mother took her own daughter and went to the Prince’s palace to pay a visit to her step-daughter, who conducted them to the Prince’s orchard for a walk. As they came to the seashore the step-mother said:“Come, daughters, let us take a bath in the sea.”No sooner had they entered the sea, than the step-mother, intending to drown the golden bride, pushed her into the deep water. A great fish, however, chanced to be there and swallowed her. The step-mother at once gathered up the golden dresses of the bride, and putting them on her own ugly daughter, brought her to the palace. There she left her in the place of the golden bride, veiling carefully her ugly face.The true bride remained in the belly of the fish for several days. One day, very early in the morning, she heard the sexton ringing the bell and inviting the people to church. She cried to him from the belly of the fish:“Sexton! sexton! who ring your morning bell,Crossing your face, send the devils to hell,For God’s sake, go to the young Prince and tell,Let him not kill my lamb-brother, or sell.”The sexton, hearing this call repeated several times, went and informed the young Prince, who had by that time discovered the loss of his fairy bride. He immediately came to the seashore, where the sexton had heard the voice. Once more it was repeated, and the Prince recognized it as the voice of his bride. He drew his sword and leaped into the sea. Splitting the fish’s belly, he drew out his bride, and taking her in his arms brought her to the palace. Soon he called the step-mother before him, saying:“Now, kind mother, which gift do you prefer, a nimble-footed horse or a keen sword?”“Let your keen sword stab your enemies,” answered the step-mother, overjoyed with the expectation of a valuable present; “I will have the nimble-footed horse.”“I take you at your word,” said the Prince; “you shall have the horse.”He ordered his men to bind the step-mother and her ugly daughter to the tail of a wild horse. It was done, and the horse being whipped, carried the two wicked women away to the mountains. They were thrown from stone to stone, and from tree to tree, until they were dashed into pieces.The wicked persons being punished, the Prince celebrated a new nuptial for forty days and forty nights, because he had found his lost golden bride. She, being released from her rival, thenceforth enjoyed a happy life with her lamb-brother.Three apples fell from Heaven;—one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.
It has always been more difficult for a man to keep than to get; for in the one case fortune aids, which often assists injustice, but in the other case sense is required. Therefore we frequently find a person deficient in cleverness rise to wealth, and then, from want of sense, roll over heels to the bottom; as you will see clearly from the story I am going to tell you, if you are quick of understanding.A merchant once had an only daughter, whom he wished greatly to see married; but as often as he struck this note, he found her a hundred miles off from the desired pitch, for the foolish girl would never consent to marry, and the father was in consequence the most unhappy and miserable man in the world. Now it happened one day that he was going to a fair; so he asked his daughter, who was named Betta, what she would like him to bring her on his return. And she said, “Papa, if you love me, bring me half a hundredweight of Palermo sugar, and as much again of sweet almonds, with four to six bottles of scented water, and a little musk and amber, also forty pearls, two sapphires, a few garnets and rubies, with some gold thread, and above all a trough and a little silver trowel.” Her father wondered at this extravagant demand, nevertheless he would not refuse his daughter; so he went to the fair, and on his return brought her all that she had requested.As soon as Betta received these things, she shut herself up in a chamber, and began to make a great quantity of paste of almonds and sugar, mixed with rosewater and perfumes, and set to work to form a most beautiful youth, making his hair of gold thread, his eyes of sapphires, his teeth of pearls, his lips of rubies; and she gave him such grace that speech alone was wanting to him. When she had done all this, having heard say that at the prayers of a certain King of Cyprus a statue had once come to life, she prayed to the goddess of Love so long that at last the statue began to open its eyes; and increasing her prayers, it began to breathe; and after breathing, words came out; and at last, disengaging all its limbs, it began to walk.With a joy far greater than if she had gained a kingdom, Betta embraced and kissed the youth, and taking him by the hand, she led him before her father and said, “My lord and father, you have always told me that you wished to see me married, and in order to please you I have now chosen a husband after my own heart.” When her father saw the handsome youth come out of his daughter’s room, whom he had not seen enter it, he stood amazed, and at the sight of such beauty, which folks would have paid a halfpenny a head to gaze at, he consented that the marriage should take place. So a great feast was made, at which, among the other ladies present, there appeared a great unknown Queen, who, seeing the beauty of Pintosmalto (for that was the name Betta gave him), fell desperately in love with him. Now Pintosmalto, who had only opened his eyes on the wickedness of the world three hours before, and was as innocent as a babe, accompanied the strangers who had come to celebrate his nuptials to the stairs, as his bride had told him; and when he did the same with this Queen, she took him by the hand and led him quietly to her coach, drawn by six horses, which stood in the courtyard; then taking him into it, she ordered the coachman to drive off and away to her country.After Betta had waited a while in vain expecting Pintosmalto to return, she sent down into the courtyard to see whether he were speaking with any one there; then she sent up to the roof to see if he had gone to take fresh air; but finding him nowhere, she directly imagined that, on account of his great beauty, he had been stolen from her. So she ordered the usual proclamations to be made; but at last, as no tidings of him were brought, she formed the resolution to go all the world over in search of him, and dressing herself as a poor girl, she set out on her way. After some months she came to the house of a good old woman, who received her with great kindness; and when she had heard Betta’s misfortune, she took compassion on her, and taught her three sayings. The first was, “Tricche varlacche, the house rains!” the second, “Anola tranola, the fountain plays!”; the third, “Scatola matola, the sun shines!”—telling her to repeat these words whenever she was in trouble, and they would be of good service to her.Betta wondered greatly at this present of chaff, nevertheless she said to herself, “He who blows into your mouth does not wish to see you dead, and the plant that strikes root does not wither; everything has its use; who knows what good fortune may be contained in these words?” So saying, she thanked the old woman, and set out upon her way. And after a long journey she came to a beautiful city called Round Mount, where she went straight to the royal palace, and begged for the love of Heaven a little shelter in the stable. So the ladies of the court ordered a small room to be given her on the stairs; and while poor Betta was sitting there she saw Pintosmalto pass by, whereat her joy was so great that she was on the point of slipping down from the tree of life. But seeing the trouble she was in, Betta wished to make proof of the first saying which the old woman had told her; and no sooner had she repeated the words, “Tricche varlacche, the house rains!” than instantly there appeared before her a beautiful little coach of gold set all over with jewels, which ran about the chamber of itself and was a wonder to behold.When the ladies of the court saw this sight they went and told the Queen, who without loss of time ran to Betta’s chamber; and when she saw the beautiful little coach, she asked whether she would sell it, and offered to give whatever she might demand. But Betta replied that, although she was poor she would not sell it for all the gold in the world, but if the Queen wished for the little coach, she must allow her to pass one night at the door of Pintosmalto’s chamber.The Queen was amazed at the folly of the poor girl, who although she was all in rags would nevertheless give up such riches for a mere whim; however, she resolved to take the good mouthful offered her, and, by giving Pintosmalto a sleeping-draught, to satisfy the poor girl but pay her in bad coin.As soon as the Night was come, when the stars in the sky and the glowworms on the earth were to pass in review, the Queen gave a sleeping-draught to Pintosmalto, who did everything he was told, and sent him to bed. And no sooner had he thrown himself on the mattress than he fell as sound asleep as a dormouse. Poor Betta, who thought that night to relate all her past troubles, seeing now that she had no audience, fell to lamenting beyond measure, blaming herself for all that she had done for his sake; and the unhappy girl never closed her mouth, nor did the sleeping Pintosmalto ever open his eyes until the Sun appeared with the aqua regia of his rays to separate the shades from the light, when the Queen came down, and taking Pintosmalto by the hand, said to Betta, “Now be content.”“May you have such content all the days of your life!” replied Betta in an undertone; “for I have passed so bad a night that I shall not soon forget it.”The poor girl, however, could not resist her longing, and resolved to make trial of the second saying; so she repeated the words, “Anola tranola, the fountain plays!” and instantly there appeared a golden cage, with a beautiful bird made of precious stones and gold, which sang like a nightingale. When the ladies saw this they went and told it to the Queen, who wished to see the bird; then she asked the same question as about the little coach, and Betta made the same reply as before. Whereupon the Queen, who perceived, as she thought, what a silly creature Betta was, promised to grant her request, and took the cage with the bird. And as soon as night came she gave Pintosmalto a sleeping-draught as before, and sent him to bed. When Betta saw that he slept like a dead person, she began again to wail and lament, saying things that would have moved a flintstone to compassion; and thus she passed another night, full of trouble, weeping and wailing and tearing her hair. But as soon as it was day the Queen came to fetch her captive, and left poor Betta in grief and sorrow, and biting her hands with vexation at the trick that had been played her.In the morning when Pintosmalto went to a garden outside the city gate to pluck some figs, he met a cobbler, who lived in a room close to where Betta lay and had not lost a word of all she had said. Then he told Pintosmalto of the weeping, lamentation, and crying of the unhappy beggar-girl; and when Pintosmalto, who already began to get a little more sense, heard this, he guessed how matters stood, and resolved that, if the same thing happened again, he would not drink what the Queen gave him.Betta now wished to make the third trial, so she said the words, “Scatola matola, the sun shines!” and instantly there appeared a quantity of stuffs of silk and gold, and embroidered scarfs, with a golden cup; in short, the Queen herself could not have brought together so many beautiful ornaments. When the ladies saw these things they told their mistress, who endeavoured to obtain them as she had done the others; but Betta replied as before, that if the Queen wished to have them she must let her spend the night at the door of the chamber. Then the Queen said to herself, “What can I lose by satisfying this silly girl, in order to get from her these beautiful things?” So taking all the treasures which Betta offered her, as soon as Night appeared, the instrument for the debt contracted with Sleep and Repose being liquidated, she gave the sleeping-draught to Pintosmalto; but this time he did not swallow it, and making an excuse to leave the room, he spat it out again, and then went to bed.Betta now began the same tune again, saying how she had kneaded him with her own hands of sugar and almonds, how she had made his hair of gold, and his eyes and mouth of pearls and precious stones, and how he was indebted to her for his life, which the gods had granted to her prayers, and lastly how he had been stolen from her, and she had gone seeking him with such toil and trouble. Then she went on to tell him how she had watched two nights at the door of his room, and for leave to do so had given up two treasures, and yet had not been able to hear a single word from him, so that this was the last night of her hopes and the conclusion of her life.When Pintosmalto, who had remained awake, heard these words, and called to mind as a dream all that had passed, he rose and embraced her; and as Night had just come forth with her black mask to direct the dance of the Stars, he went very quietly into the chamber of the Queen, who was in a deep sleep, and took from her all the things that she had taken from Betta, and all the jewels and money which were in a desk, to repay himself for his past troubles. Then returning to his wife, they set off that very hour, and travelled on and on until they arrived at her father’s house, where they found him alive and well; and from the joy of seeing his daughter again he became like a boy of fifteen years. But when the Queen found neither Pintosmalto, nor beggar-girl, nor jewels, she tore her hair and rent her clothes, and called to mind the saying—“He who cheats must not complain if he be cheated.”
Once upon a time, there was a little lamb frisking gaily about the pasture. The bright sunshine and the soft breezes made him very happy. He had just finished a hearty meal and that made him happy too. He was the very happiest little lamb in all the world and he thought that he was the most wonderful little lamb.“A lamb.” Illustration by Harrison Weir, published in Chatterbox Album of Animals by Margaret Vandegrift (1880), W.W. GardnerA big toad sat on the ground and watched him. After a while the toad said: “O, little lamb, how are you feeling today?”The lamb replied that he had never felt better in all his life.“Even though you are feeling very strong, I can pull you into the sea,” said the toad.The little lamb laughed and laughed until he rolled over on the ground.“Just take hold of this rope and I’ll show you how easy it is to pull you into the sea,” said the toad.The lamb took hold of the rope. Then the toad said, “Please wait a minute while I get a good long distance away from you. I can pull better when I’m not too near you.”The lamb waited and the toad hopped down to the sea. He hopped up into a tree which hung over the water’s edge and from there he hopped on to the whale’s back. He fastened the end of the rope around the whale and then he called out to the lamb: “All ready. Now we’ll see how hard you can pull.”When the whale felt the lamb pulling at the rope, he swam away from the shore. No matter how hard the lamb pulled or how much force he exerted it did not do one bit of good. He was dragged down to the water’s edge as easily as could be.“I give up,” said the lamb as he reached the water’s edge.After that, although the sunshine was just as bright as ever, any one who watched that little lamb could see that he was a little more meek.One day, not long afterwards, the sunshine was again very bright and the little lamb was again feeling frisky. He was so happy and gay that he had forgotten all about how the toad had pulled him down to the water until the toad spoke to him. Then he remembered.“O, little lamb, how are you feeling today?” asked the toad. The little lamb replied that he was very well.“Let us run a race,” said the toad, “I think I can beat you.”“You may be strong enough to pull me into the sea,” said the lamb, “but surely I can run faster than you. I’ve watched you hopping about my pasture. You can’t run fast at all. However, I’ll gladly run a race with you to prove what I say.”The toad set a goal and told the lamb to call out every little while during the race so he could see how much farther ahead the lamb was. Then the toad and the lamb started.The toad had assembled all his brothers and his sisters and his cousins and his uncles and his aunts before the race and had stationed them at various points along the path of the race. He had told them that whenever any of them should hear the lamb calling out, “Laculay, laculay, laculay,” the toad which was nearest should answer, “Gulugubango, bango lay.”The lamb ran and ran as fast as he could. Then he remembered his promise and called out, “Laculay, laculay, laculay.” He expected to hear the toad answer from a long, long distance behind him. He was much surprised to hear some one near him answer, “Gulugubango, bango lay.” After that he ran faster than ever.After running on for some distance farther the lamb again called out, “Laculay, laculay, laculay.” Again he heard the answer at only a short distance away, “Gulugubango, bango lay.” He ran and ran until his little heart was beating so fast that it seemed as if it would burst. At last he arrived at the goal of the race which the toad had set and there sat the toad’s brother who looked so much like him that the lamb couldn’t tell them apart. The lamb went back to his pasture very meekly and quietly. He acknowledged that he had been beaten in the race.The next morning the toad said to him, “Even though you did not run fast enough to win the race, still you are a very fast runner. I have told the daughter of the king about you and I have said to her that some day she shall see me riding on your back with a bridle in your mouth as if you were my horse.”The lamb was very angry. “Perhaps you are strong enough to pull me into the sea, and perhaps you can beat me when we run a race,” said the lamb, “but never, never in the world will I be your horse.”Time passed and the sunshine was very bright and the soft, gentle breezes were very sweet. The lamb was so happy again that he forgot all about how the toad had pulled him into the sea, and how the toad had beaten him at running the race. He was very sorry for the toad when he saw him all humped up in a disconsolate little heap one day. “O, poor toad, are you sick?” he asked. “Isn’t there something I can do to help you?”The toad told him how very sick he was. “There is something you could do to help me,” he said, “but I don’t believe that you are quite strong enough or can travel quite fast enough.”The lamb took a deep breath and blew out his chest. “I’ll show you,” he said. “Just tell me what it is.”The toad replied that he had promised to be at a party that afternoon at the house of the king’s daughter and he did not see how he could possibly get there unless some one would carry him.“Jump on my back,” said the lamb. “I’ll carry you.”The toad shook about on the lamb’s back after they had started so that it seemed as if he would surely fall off. After a little he said, “I can not possibly stand riding like this. It jars all my sore spots. I’ll have to get off.” He tried it a little while longer and shook about worse than ever. Then he said, “Do you know, I think I could endure this painful ride a little better if only I had something to hold myself by? Do you mind if I take a piece of grass and put it in your mouth? I can hold on to that when I shake about and my sore spots will not hurt so much.”The lamb let the toad put a piece of grass in his mouth.After a while the toad asked for a little stick. “The flies and mosquitoes annoy me terribly,” he said. “If only I had a little stick I could wave it about over my head and frighten them away. It is very bad for any one in my weak, nervous condition to be bothered by flies and mosquitoes.” The lamb let the toad have a little stick to wave over his head.At last the lamb and the toad drew near to the palace of the king. The king’s daughter was leaning out of the window watching for them. The toad dug his feet into the lamb’s sides, pulled hard on the piece of the grass in the lamb’s mouth and waved the little stick about over the lamb’s head. “Go on, horse,” he said and the king’s daughter heard him. She laughed and laughed, and when all the rest of the people in the palace saw the toad arriving mounted on the lamb’s back and driving him like a horse they laughed too. The lamb went meekly home to his pasture and from that day to this when one wishes to speak of meekness one says “as meek as a lamb.”
It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to herself, “He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in the world,” she spoke to him in a friendly way. “Good-day, dear Mr. Fox, how are you? How is all with you? How are you getting through this dear season?”The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat from head to foot, and for a long time did not know whether he would give any answer or not. At last he said, “Oh, thou wretched beard-cleaner, thou piebald fool, thou hungry mouse-hunter, what canst thou be thinking of? Dost thou venture to ask how I am getting on? What hast thou learnt? How many arts dost thou understand?”“I understand but one,” replied the cat, modestly.“What art is that?” asked the fox. “When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and save myself.”“Is that all?” said the fox. “I am master of a hundred arts, and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. Thou makest me sorry for thee; come with me, I will teach thee how people get away from the hounds.”Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a tree, and sat down at the top of it, where the branches and foliage quite concealed her.“Open your sack, Mr. Fox, open your sack,” cried the cat to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were holding him fast.“Ah, Mr. Fox,” cried the cat. “You with your hundred arts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me, you would not have lost your life.”
The oak one day address’d the reed:—“To you ungenerous indeedHas nature been, my humble friend,With weakness aye obliged to bend.The smallest bird that flits in airIs quite too much for you to bear;The slightest wind that wreathes the lakeYour ever-trembling head doth shake.The while, my towering formDares with the mountain topThe solar blaze to stop,And wrestle with the storm.What seems to you the blast of death,To me is but a zephyr’s breath.Beneath my branches had you grown,Less suffering would your life have known,Unhappily you oftenest showIn open air your slender form,Along the marshes wet and low,That fringe the kingdom of the storm.To you, declare I must,Dame Nature seems unjust.”Then modestly replied the reed:“Your pity, sir, is kind indeed,But wholly needless for my sake.The wildest wind that ever blewIs safe to me compared with you.I bend, indeed, but never break.Thus far, I own, the hurricaneHas beat your sturdy back in vain;But wait the end.” Just at the word,The tempest’s hollow voice was heard.The North sent forth her fiercest child,Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild.The oak, erect, endured the blow;The reed bow’d gracefully and low.But, gathering up its strength once more,In greater fury than before,The savage blastOverthrew, at last,That proud, old, sky-encircled head,Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead!
Near a great forest dwelt a wood-cutter with his wife, who had an only child, a little girl three years old. They were, however, so poor that they no longer had daily bread, and did not know how to get food for her. One morning the wood-cutter went out sorrowfully to his work in the forest, and while he was cutting wood, suddenly there stood before him a tall and beautiful woman with a crown of shining stars on her head, who said to him, “I am the Virgin Mary, mother of the child Jesus. Thou art poor and needy, bring thy child to me, I will take her with me and be her mother, and care for her.”The wood-cutter obeyed, brought his child, and gave her to the Virgin Mary, who took her up to heaven with her. There the child fared well, ate sugar-cakes, and drank sweet milk, and her clothes were of gold, and the little angels played with her. And when she was fourteen years of age, the Virgin Mary called her one day and said, “Dear child, I am about to make a long journey, so take into thy keeping the keys of the thirteen doors of heaven. Twelve of these thou mayest open, and behold the glory which is within them, but the thirteenth, to which this little key belongs, is forbidden thee. Beware of opening it, or thou wilt bring misery on thyself.”The girl promised to be obedient, and when the Virgin Mary was gone, she began to examine the dwellings of the kingdom of heaven. Each day she opened one of them, until she had made the round of the twelve. In each of them sat one of the Apostles in the midst of a great light, and she rejoiced in all the magnificence and splendour, and the little angels who always accompanied her rejoiced with her. Then the forbidden door alone remained, and she felt a great desire to know what could be hidden behind it, and said to the angels, “I will not quite open it, and I will not go inside it, but I will unlock it so that we can just see a little through the opening.”“Oh, no,” said the little angels, “that would be a sin. The Virgin Mary has forbidden it, and it might easily cause thy unhappiness.”Then she was silent, but the desire in her heart was not stilled, but gnawed there and tormented her, and let her have no rest. And once when the angels had all gone out, she thought, “Now I am quite alone, and I could peep in. If I do it, no one will ever know.”She sought out the key, and when she had got it in her hand, she put it in the lock, and when she had put it in, she turned it round as well. Then the door sprang open, and she saw there the Trinity sitting in fire and splendour. She stayed there awhile, and looked at everything in amazement; then she touched the light a little with her finger, and her finger became quite golden. Immediately a great fear fell on her. She shut the door violently, and ran away. Her terror too would not quit her, let her do what she might, and her heart beat continually and would not be still; the gold too stayed on her finger, and would not go away, let her rub it and wash it never so much.It was not long before the Virgin Mary came back from her journey. She called the girl before her, and asked to have the keys of heaven back. When the maiden gave her the bunch, the Virgin looked into her eyes and said, “Hast thou not opened the thirteenth door also?”“No,” she replied. Then she laid her hand on the girl’s heart, and felt how it beat and beat, and saw right well that she had disobeyed her order and had opened the door.Then she said once again, “Art thou certain that thou hast not done it?”“Yes,” said the girl, for the second time. Then she perceived the finger which had become golden from touching the fire of heaven, and saw well that the child had sinned, and said for the third time, “Hast thou not done it?”“No,” said the girl for the third time.Then said the Virgin Mary, “Thou hast not obeyed me, and besides that thou hast lied, thou art no longer worthy to be in heaven.”Then the girl fell into a deep sleep, and when she awoke she lay on the earth below, and in the midst of a wilderness. She wanted to cry out, but she could bring forth no sound. She sprang up and wanted to run away, but wherever she turned herself, she was continually held back by thick hedges of thorns through which she could not break.In the desert, in which she was imprisoned, there stood an old hollow tree, and this had to be her dwelling-place. Into this she crept when night came, and here she slept. Here, too, she found a shelter from storm and rain, but it was a miserable life, and bitterly did she weep when she remembered how happy she had been in heaven, and how the angels had played with her.Roots and wild berries were her only food, and for these she sought as far as she could go. In the autumn she picked up the fallen nuts and leaves, and carried them into the hole. The nuts were her food in winter, and when snow and ice came, she crept amongst the leaves like a poor little animal that she might not freeze. Before long her clothes were all torn, and one bit of them after another fell off her.As soon, however, as the sun shone warm again, she went out and sat in front of the tree, and her long hair covered her on all sides like a mantle. Thus she sat year after year, and felt the pain and misery of the world. One day, when the trees were once more clothed in fresh green, the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and followed a roe, and as it had fled into the thicket which shut in this bit of the forest, he got off his horse, tore the bushes asunder, and cut himself a path with his sword.When he had at last forced his way through, he saw a wonderfully beautiful maiden sitting under the tree; and she sat there and was entirely covered with her golden hair down to her very feet. He stood still and looked at her full of surprise, then he spoke to her and said, “Who art thou? Why art thou sitting here in the wilderness?”But she gave no answer, for she could not open her mouth.The King continued, “Wilt thou go with me to my castle?”Then she just nodded her head a little. The King took her in his arms, carried her to his horse, and rode home with her, and when he reached the royal castle he caused her to be dressed in beautiful garments, and gave her all things in abundance. Although she could not speak, she was still so beautiful and charming that he began to love her with all his heart, and it was not long before he married her.After a year or so had passed, the Queen brought a son into the world. Thereupon the Virgin Mary appeared to her in the night when she lay in her bed alone, and said, “If thou wilt tell the truth and confess that thou didst unlock the forbidden door, I will open thy mouth and give thee back thy speech, but if thou perseverest in thy sin, and deniest obstinately, I will take thy new-born child away with me.”Then the Queen was permitted to answer, but she remained hard, and said, “No, I did not open the forbidden door;” and the Virgin Mary took the newborn child from her arms, and vanished with it.Next morning, when the child was not to be found, it was whispered among the people that the Queen was a maneater, and had killed her own child. She heard all this and could say nothing to the contrary, but the King would not believe it, for he loved her so much.When a year had gone by the Queen again bore a son, and in the night the Virgin Mary again came to her, and said, “If thou wilt confess that thou openedst the forbidden door, I will give thee thy child back and untie thy tongue; but if thou continuest in sin and deniest it, I will take away with me this new child also.”Then the Queen again said, “No, I did not open the forbidden door;” and the Virgin took the child out of her arms, and away with her to heaven. Next morning, when this child also had disappeared, the people declared quite loudly that the Queen had devoured it, and the King’s councillors demanded that she should be brought to justice. The King, however, loved her so dearly that he would not believe it, and commanded the councillors under pain of death not to say any more about it.The following year the Queen gave birth to a beautiful little daughter, and for the third time the Virgin Mary appeared to her in the night and said, “Follow me.”She took the Queen by the hand and led her to heaven, and showed her there her two eldest children, who smiled at her, and were playing with the ball of the world. When the Queen rejoiced there at the sight, the Virgin Mary said, “Is thy heart not yet softened? If thou wilt own that thou openedst the forbidden door, I will give thee back thy two little sons.”But for the third time the Queen answered, “No, I did not open the forbidden door.”Then the Virgin let her sink down to earth once more, and took from her likewise her third child.Next morning, when the loss was reported abroad, all the people cried loudly, “The Queen is a man-eater! She must be judged,” and the King was no longer able to restrain his councillors. Thereupon a trial was held, and as she could not answer, and defend herself, she was condemned to be burnt alive. The wood was got together, and when she was fast bound to the stake, and the fire began to burn round about her, the hard ice of pride melted, her heart was moved by repentance, and she thought, “If I could but confess before my death that I opened the door.”Then her voice came back to her, and she cried out loudly, “Yes, Mary, I did it;” and straightway rain fell from the sky and extinguished the flames of fire, and a light broke forth above her, and the Virgin Mary descended with the two little sons by her side, and the newborn daughter in her arms.She spoke kindly to her, and said, “He who repents his sin and acknowledges it, is forgiven.” Then she gave her the three children, untied her tongue, and granted her happiness for her whole life.
He who asks little shall obtain much.There lived once three brothers whose only property in this bright world consisted of a pear-tree which they watched one after another; whilst one of them was left watching it the two others would go to their daily labour.One day an angel from heaven was commanded to go and see how the brothers were living, and to provide them with better means of subsistence if they needed it. As soon as the angel had descended to the earth he assumed the shape of a beggar, and having come to the brother who was watching the tree, he begged him for a pear. The man plucked one of the pears which belonged to him, gave it to the angel and said,—“Here you have one of my own pears; of those which belong to my brothers I cannot give you any.”The angel thanked him and went away. On the following day the second brother stopped at home to watch the tree; the angel came also to him and asked for a pear. The second brother likewise plucked one of the pears which belonged to him, and gave it to the angel, and said,—“Here you have one of my own pears; of those which belong to my brothers I cannot give you any.”The angel thanked him and went away. When the turn came for the third brother to watch the tree, the angel came to him also and asked for a pear. The youngest brother, in like manner, plucked one of those which belonged to him, gave it to the angel, and said,—“Here you have one of my own pears; of those which belong to my brothers I cannot give you any.”On the fourth day the angel took the form of a monk, and having come early in the morning he found the brothers still at home, to whom he said,—“Come with me, and I will give you something better to do.”The brothers followed the angel without any hesitation. When they had come to a broad, rapid stream, they all rested there, and the angel said to the eldest brother,—“What would you like to have?”And he answered, “I should like this water to be turned into wine and belong to me.”The angel made the sign of the cross with his staff, and lo!—instead of water, there flowed wine in the stream. Casks were being made, wine was being poured into them; people were seen working, and a village arose. The angel left the eldest brother there and said, “Now you have what you wished for, stop and live here.”Then the angel took the two younger brothers, and went with them farther on. They soon came to a field in which an enormous number of pigeons were feeding. There the angel asked the second brother,—“What would you like to have?”And he answered, “I should like all these pigeons to be changed into sheep and belong to me.”The angel made the sign of the cross with his staff over the field, and in an instant all the pigeons became sheep. A dairy appeared in which some women were milking the ewes, others were measuring the milk, collecting cream, making cheeses, and melting fat; there was also a slaughter-house in which meat was dressed, weighed, and money received; people were busy everywhere, and a village sprang up on the spot. Hereupon the angel said to the second brother, “Here you have what you wished for.”Then the angel went away with the youngest brother, and whilst walking through a field he asked him,—“And what would you like to have?”So the youngest brother answered, “May Heaven grant me a truly pious wife; I do not ask for anything else.”“Ah,” said the angel, “it is very difficult to find a truly pious woman. In the whole world there are only three such, two of them are already married, but the third is still a maiden; there are, however, already two suitors for her.”Then they started again, and having walked for a long time they reached a town where a king lived who had a truly pious daughter. Having entered into the town, they went immediately to the king to ask for his daughter.There they found that two kings had arrived before them, had asked for the princess, and had already put their apples on the table. Hereupon they also put their apples on the table by the side of the other apples.When the king saw them he said to those who stood around,—“What shall we do? The first two suitors are kings, and these men are mere beggars in comparison with them.”Then the angel said, “I will tell you what to do. Let the princess take three branches of vine, plant them in the garden, and name each one after her lovers; in the morning on whose branch grapes will be found, him she must take for her husband.”They all agreed to this proposition. The princess planted three branches of vine in the garden, and named each one after a suitor. In the morning there were grapes on the vine of the poor man. The king not knowing how to get out of this difficulty, was obliged to give his daughter to the youngest brother for wife; he took them at once to church and married them. After the ceremony, the angel took the newly-married couple to a forest and left them there, and they lived in that forest one year.When the year was up, the angel was again commanded to go and see how the brothers were living, and to assist them if they needed it. Having descended to the earth the angel again assumed the shape of a beggar, went to the eldest brother where the wine was flowing in the stream, and begged him for a glass of wine; but the man drove him away, saying,—“If I were to give a glass of wine to everybody that asks for it, there would be nothing left for me.”When the angel heard this he made the sign of the cross with his staff, and the water flowed again in the stream as before; then he said to the eldest brother,—“Riches were not good for you; go home and attend to your pear-tree again.”Then the angel went to the second brother whose sheep covered the field, and begged him for a piece of cheese; he also drove the angel away, saying,—“If I were to give a piece of cheese to everybody that asks for it, there would be nothing left for me.”When the angel heard this he made the sign of the cross with his staff, and the sheep changed into pigeons again; then the angel said to him,—“Riches were not good for you; go home and attend to your pear-tree again.”At last the angel went to the youngest brother in order to see how he was getting on, and he found him living with his wife in a poor hut in the forest. The angel asked him for a night’s lodging, and they received him with all their hearts, and begged him to excuse them that they could not entertain him as they wished, “for” they added, “we are very poor.” And the angel answered them, “Never mind; I shall be satisfied with whatever it is.”What were they to do? They had no corn to make bread with, but they used to pound the bark of trees and make bread of it. Such bread the woman prepared also for the visitor, and put it under an earthen cover to bake.Whilst the bread was baking they entertained the visitor with conversation. When, some time afterwards, they looked to see whether the bread was baked yet, they found under the cover fine bread nicely baked—one could not wish for better, and it had even risen up under the cover; when the man and his wife saw it they lifted up their hands to heaven, and said,—“Lord, receive our thanks! Now we can entertain our visitor.”Then they put the bread before the angel and a gourd-bottle with water; but as soon as they began to drink out of it, the water was changed into wine. Hereupon the angel made the sign of the cross with his staff over the hut, and in its place there arose a princely palace with plenty of all good things in it. Then the angel blessed the man and his wife, and departed from them, and they lived happily until their lives’ end.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life as a young lion. And when fully grown he lived in a wood. At this same time there was near the Western Ocean a grove of palms mixed with vilva trees. A certain hare lived here beneath a palm sapling, at the foot of a vilva tree.One day this hare after feeding came and lay down beneath a young palm tree. And the thought struck him: “If this earth should be destroyed, what would become of me?” And at this very moment a ripe vilva fruit fell on a palm leaf. At the sound of it, the hare thought, “This solid earth is collapsing,” and starting up he fled without so much as looking behind him.Another saw him scampering off as if frightened to death, and asked the cause of his panic flight. “Pray, don’t ask me,” he said. The other hare cried, “Pray, sir, what is it?” and kept running after him. Then the hare stopped a moment and without looking back he said, “The earth here is breaking up.” And at this the second hare ran after the other. And so first one and then another hare caught sight of him running, and joined in the chase till one hundred thousand hares all took flight together. They were seen by a deer, a boar, an elk, a buffalo, a wild ox, a rhinoceros, a tiger, a lion, and an elephant. And when they asked what it meant and were told that the earth was breaking up, they too took flight. So by degrees this host of animals extended to the length of a full league.When the Bodhisatta saw this headlong flight of the animals, and heard that the cause of it was that the earth was coming to an end, he thought: “The earth is nowhere coming to an end. Surely it must be some sound which was misunderstood by them. And if I don’t make a great effort, they will surely perish. I will save their lives.”“The earth is collapsing,” they answered.“Who saw it collapsing?” he said.“The elephants know all about it,” they replied.He asked the elephants. “We don’t know,” they said; “the lions know.” But the lions said, “We don’t know; the tigers know.” The tigers said, “The rhinoceroses know.” The rhinoceroses said, “The wild oxen know.” The wild oxen, “The buffaloes.” The buffaloes, “The elks.” The elks, “The boars.” The boars, “The deer.” The deer said, “We don’t know; the hares know.” When the hares were questioned, they pointed to one particular hare and said, “This one told us.”So the Bodhisatta asked, “Is it true, sir, that the earth is breaking up?”“Where,” he asked, “were you living when you saw it?”“Near the ocean, sir, in a grove of palms mixed with vilva trees. For as I was lying beneath the shade of a palm sapling at the foot of a vilva tree, methought, ‘If this earth should break up, where shall I go?’ And at that very moment I heard the sound of breaking up of the earth, and I fled.”Thought the lion: “A ripe vilva fruit evidently must have fallen on a palm leaf and made a ‘thud,’ and this hare jumped to the conclusion that the earth was coming to an end, and ran away. I will find out the exact truth about it.” So he reassured the herd of animals, and said: “I will take the hare and go find out exactly whether the earth is coming to an end or not, in the place pointed out by him. Until I return do you stay here.” Then, placing the hare on his back, he sprang forward with the speed of a lion, and putting the hare down in a palm grove, he said, “Come, show us the place you meant.”“I dare not, my lord,” said the hare.The hare, not venturing to go near the vilva tree, stood afar off and cried, “Yonder, sir, is the place of dreadful sounds,” and so saying, he repeated the first stanza:After hearing what the hare said, the lion went to the foot of the vilva tree, and saw the spot where the hare had been lying beneath the shade of the palm tree, and the ripe vilva fruit that fell on the palm leaf, and having carefully ascertained that the earth had not broken up, he placed the hare on his back and with the speed of a lion soon came again to the herd of beasts.Then he told them the whole story, and said, “Don’t be afraid.” And having thus reassured the herd of beasts, he let them go.Verily if it had not been for the Bodhisatta at that time, all the beasts would have rushed into the sea and perished. It was all owing to the Bodhisatta that they escaped death.Alarmed at sound of fallen fruit,A hare once ran away;The other beasts all followed suit,Moved by that hare’s dismay.They hastened not to view the scene,But lent a willing earTo idle gossip, and were cleanDistraught with foolish fear.They who to Wisdom’s calm delightAnd Virtue’s heights attain,Though ill example should invite,Such panic fear disdain.
Thus a Soothsayer when on his death-bed wrote the horoscope of his second son, and bequeathed it to him as his only property, leaving the whole of his estate to his eldest son. The second son pondered over the horoscope, and fell into the following reflections:—“Alas, am I born to this only in the world? The sayings of my father never failed. I have seen them prove true to the last word while he was living; and how has he fixed my horoscope! Janma parabhṛiti dâridryam! From my birth poverty! Nor is that my only fate. Daśa varshâṇi bandhanam: for ten years, imprisonment—a fate harder than poverty; and what comes next? Samudratîrê maraṇam: death on the sea-shore; which means that I must die away from home, far from friends and relatives on a sea-coast. The misery has reached its extreme height here. Now comes the funniest part of the horoscope, Kiñchit bhôgam bhavishyati—that I am to have some happiness afterwards! What this happiness is, is an enigma to me: To die first, to be happy for some time after! What happiness? Is it the happiness of this world? So it must be. For however clever one may be, he cannot foretell what may take place in the other world. Therefore it must be the happiness of this world; and how can that be possible after my death? It is impossible. I think my father has only meant this as a consoling conclusion to the series of calamities that he has prophesied. Three portions of his prophecy must prove true; the fourth and last is a mere comforting statement to bear patiently the calamities enumerated, and never to prove true. Therefore let me go to Bânâras, bathe in the holy Gaṅgâ, wash away my sins, and prepare myself for my end. Let me avoid sea-coasts, lest death meet me there in accordance with my father’s words. Come imprisonment: I am prepared for it for ten years.”Thus thought he, and after all the funeral obsequies of his father were over, took leave of his elder brother, and started for Bânâras(Benares). He went by the middle of the Dakhaṇ(The Deccan), avoiding both the coasts, and went on journeying and journeying for weeks and months, till at last he reached the Vindhya mountains. While passing that desert he had to journey for a couple of days through a sandy plain, with no signs of life or vegetation. The little store of provision with which he was provided for a couple of days, at last was exhausted. The chombu(a small vessel), which he carried always full, replenishing it with the sweet water from the flowing rivulet or plenteous tank, he had exhausted in the heat of the desert. There was not a morsel in his hand to eat; nor a drop of water to drink. Turn his eyes wherever he might he found a vast desert, out of which he saw no means of escape. Still he thought within himself, “Surely my father’s prophecy never proved untrue. I must survive this calamity to find my death on some sea-coast.” So thought he, and this thought gave him strength of mind to walk fast and try to find a drop of water somewhere to slake his dry throat. At last he succeeded, or rather thought that he succeeded. Heaven threw in his way a ruined well. He thought that he could collect some water if he let down his chombu with the string that he always carried noosed to the neck of it. Accordingly he let it down; it went some way and stopped, and the following words came from the well, “Oh, relieve me! I am the king of tigers, dying here of hunger. For the last three days I have had nothing. Fortune has sent you here. If you assist me now you will find a sure help in me throughout your life. Do not think that I am a beast of prey. When you have become my deliverer I can never touch you. Pray, kindly lift me up.” Gaṅgâdhara, for that was the name of the Soothsayer’s second son, found himself in a very perplexing position. “Shall I take him out or not? If I take him out he may make me the first morsel of his hungry mouth. No; that he will not do. For my father’s prophecy never came untrue. I must die on a sea-coast and not by a tiger.” Thus thinking, he asked the tiger king to hold tight to the vessel, which he accordingly did, and he lifted him up slowly. The tiger reached the top of the well and felt himself on safe ground. True to his word he did no harm to Gaṅgâdhara. On the other hand, he walked round his patron three times, and standing before him, humbly spoke the following words:—“My life-giver, my benefactor! I shall never forget this day, when I regained my life through your kind hands. In return for this kind assistance I pledge my oath to stand by you in all calamities. Whenever you are in any difficulty just think of me. I am there with you ready to oblige you by all the means that I can. To tell you briefly how I came in here:—Three days ago I was roaming in yonder forest, when I saw a goldsmith passing through it. I chased him. He, finding it impossible to escape my claws, jumped into this well, and is living to this moment in the very bottom of it. I also jumped in, but found myself in the first storey; he is on the last and fourth storey. In the second storey lives a serpent half-famished with hunger. In the third storey lies a rat, similarly half-famished, and when you again begin to draw water these may request you first to release them. In the same way the goldsmith also may request. I tell you, as your bosom friend, never assist that wretched man, though he is your relation as a human being. Goldsmiths are never to be trusted. You can place more faith in me, a tiger, though I feast sometimes upon men, in a serpent whose sting makes your blood cold the very next moment, or in a rat, which does a thousand pieces of mischief in your house. But never trust a goldsmith. Do not release him; and if you do, you shall surely repent of it one day or other.” Thus advising, the hungry tiger went away without waiting for an answer.Gaṅgâdhara thought several times of the eloquent way in which the tiger addressed him, and admired his fluency of speech. His thirst was not quenched. So he let down his vessel again, which was now caught hold of by the serpent, who addressed him thus:—“Oh my protector! Lift me up. I am the king of serpents, and the son of Âdiśêsha,(king of serpents) who is now pining away in agony for my disappearance. Release me now. I shall ever remain your servant, remember your assistance, and help you throughout life in all possible ways. Oblige me: I am dying.” Gaṅgâdhara, calling again to mind the Samudratîrê maraṇam—death on the sea-shore—lifted him up. He, like the tiger-king, walked round him thrice, and prostrating himself before him spoke thus:—“Oh, my life-giver, my father, for so I must call you, as you have given me another birth. I have already told you that I am Âdiśêsha’s son, and that I am the king of serpents. I was three days ago basking myself in the morning sun, when I saw a rat running before me. I chased him. He fell into this well. I followed him, but instead of falling on the third storey where he is now lying, I fell into the second. It was on the same evening that the goldsmith also fell down into the fourth storey, and the tiger whom you released just before me fell down into the first. What I have to tell you now is—do not relieve the goldsmith, though you may release the rat. As a rule, goldsmiths are never to be trusted. I am going away now to see my father. Whenever you are in any difficulty just think of me. I will be there by your side to assist you by all possible means. If, notwithstanding my repeated advice, you happen to release the goldsmith, you shall suffer for it severely.” So saying, the Nâgarâja (serpent-king) glided away in zigzag movements, and was out of sight in a moment.The poor son of the Soothsayer who was now almost dying of thirst, and was even led to think that the messengers of death were near him, notwithstanding his firm belief in the words of his father let down his vessel for a third time. The rat caught hold of it, and without discussing, he lifted up the poor animal at once. But it would not go away without showing its gratitude—“Oh life of my life! My benefactor! I am the king of rats. Whenever you are in any calamity just think of me. I will come to you, and assist you. My keen ears overheard all that the tiger-king and serpent-king told you about the Svarṇataskara (gold-smith), who is in the fourth storey. It is nothing but a sad truth that goldsmiths ought never to be trusted. Therefore never assist him as you have done to us all. And if you do, you shall feel it. I am hungry; let me go for the present.” Thus taking leave of his benefactor, the rat, too, ran away.Gaṅgâdhara for a while thought upon the repeated advice given by the three animals about releasing the goldsmith, “What wrong would there be in my assisting him? Why should I not release him also?” So thinking to himself, Gaṅgâdhara let down the vessel again. The goldsmith caught hold of it, and demanded help. The Soothsayer’s son had no time to lose; he was himself dying of thirst. Therefore he lifted the goldsmith up, who now began his story:—“Stop for a while,” said Gaṅgâdhara, and after quenching his thirst by letting down his vessel for the fifth time, still fearing that some one might remain in the well and demand his assistance, he listened to the goldsmith, who began as follows:—“My dear friend, my protector, what a deal of nonsense these brutes have been talking to you about me; I am glad you have not followed their advice. I am just now dying of hunger. Permit me to go away. My name is Mâṇikkâśâri. I live in the East main street of Ujjaini which is twenty kâs to the south of this place, and so lies on your way when you return from Bânâras. Do not forget to come to me and receive my kind remembrances of your assistance, on your way back to your country.” So saying the goldsmith took his leave, and Gaṅgâdhara also pursued his way north after the above adventures.He reached Bânâras, and lived there for more than ten years, spending his time in bathing, prayers, and other religious ceremonies. He quite forgot the tiger, serpent, rat, and goldsmith. After ten years of religious life, thoughts of home and of his brother rushed into his mind. “I have secured enough merit now by my religious observances. Let me return home.” Thus thought Gaṅgâdhara within himself, and immediately he was on his way back to his country. Remembering the prophecy of his father he returned by the same way by which he went to Bânâras ten years before. While thus retracing his steps he reached the ruined well where he had released the three brute kings and the goldsmith. At once the old recollections rushed into his mind, and he thought of the tiger to test his fidelity. Only a moment passed, and the tiger-king came running before him carrying a large crown in his mouth, the glitter of the diamonds of which for a time outshone even the bright rays of the sun. He dropped the crown at his life-giver’s feet, and putting aside all his pride, humbled himself like a pet cat to the strokes of his protector, and began in the following words:—“My life-giver! How is it that you have forgotten me, your poor servant, for such a long time? I am glad to find that I still occupy a corner in your mind. I can never forget the day when I owed my life to your lotus hands. I have several jewels with me of little value. This crown, being the best of all, I have brought here as a single ornament of great value, and hence easily portable and useful to you in your own country.” Gaṅgâdhara looked at the crown, examined it over and over, counted and recounted the gems, and thought within himself that he would become the richest of men by separating the diamonds and gold, and selling them in his own country. He took leave of the tiger-king, and after his disappearance thought of the kings of serpents and rats, who came in their turns with their presents, and after the usual formalities and exchange of words took their leave. Gaṅgâdhara was extremely delighted at the faithfulness with which the brute beasts behaved themselves, and went on his way to the south. While going along he spoke to himself thus:—“These beasts have been so very faithful in their assistance. Much more, therefore, must Mâṇikkâśâri be faithful. I do not want anything from him now. If I take this crown with me as it is, it occupies much space in my bundle. It may also excite the curiosity of some robbers on the way. I will go now to Ujjaini on my way, Mâṇikkâśâri requested me to see him without failure on my return journey. I shall do so, and request him to have the crown melted, the diamonds and gold separated. He must do that kindness at least for me. I shall then roll up these diamonds and gold ball in my rags, and bend my way homewards.” Thus thinking and thinking he reached Ujjaini. At once he enquired for the house of his goldsmith friend, and found him without difficulty. Mâṇikkâśâri was extremely delighted to find on his threshold him who ten years before, notwithstanding the advice repeatedly given him by the sage-looking tiger, serpent, and rat, had relieved him from the pit of death. Gaṅgâdhara at once showed him the crown that he received from the tiger-king, told him how he got it, and requested his kind assistance to separate the gold and diamonds. Mâṇikkâśâri agreed to do so, and meanwhile asked his friend to rest himself for a while to have his bath and meals; and Gaṅgâdhara, who was very observant of his religious ceremonies, went direct to the river to bathe.How came a crown in the jaws of a tiger? It is not a difficult question to solve. A king must have furnished the table of the tiger for a day or two. Had it not been for that, the tiger could not have had a crown with him. Even so it was. The king of Ujjaini had a week before gone with all his hunters on a hunting expedition. All of a sudden a tiger—as we know now, the very tiger-king himself—started from the wood, seized the king, and vanished. The hunters returned and informed the prince about the sad calamity that had befallen his father. They all saw the tiger carrying away the king. Yet such was their courage that they could not lift their weapons to bring to the prince the corpse at least of his father.When they informed the prince about the death of his father he wept and wailed, and gave notice that he would give half of his kingdom to any one who should bring him news about the murderer of his father. The prince did not at all believe that his father was devoured by the tiger. His belief was that some hunters, coveting the ornaments on the king’s person, had murdered him. Hence he had issued the notice. The goldsmith knew full well that it was a tiger that killed the king, and not any hunter’s hands, since he had heard from Gaṅgâdhara about how he obtained the crown. Still, ambition to get half the kingdom prevailed, and he resolved with himself to make over Gaṅgâdhara as the king’s murderer. The crown was lying on the floor where Gaṅgâdhara left it with his full confidence in Mâṇikkâśâri. Before his protector’s return the goldsmith, hiding the crown under his garments, flew to the palace. He went before the prince and informed him that the assassin was caught, and placed the crown before him. The prince took it into his hands, examined it, and at once gave half the kingdom to Mâṇikkâśâri, and then enquired about the murderer. “He is bathing in the river, and is of such and such appearance,” was the reply. At once four armed soldiers fly to the river, and bound the poor Brâhmaṇ hand and foot, he sitting in meditation the while, without any knowledge of the fate that hung over him. They brought Gaṅgâdhara to the presence of the prince, who turned his face away from the murderer or supposed murderer, and asked his soldiers to throw him into the kârâgṛiham(Dungeon). In a minute, without knowing the cause, the poor Brâhmaṇ found himself in the dark caves of the kârâgṛiham.In old times the kârâgṛiham answered the purposes of the modern jail. It was a dark cellar underground, built with strong stone walls, into which any criminal guilty of a capital offence was ushered to breathe his last there without food and drink. Such was the cellar into which Gaṅgâdhara was thrust. In a few hours after he left the goldsmith he found himself inside a dark cell stinking with human bodies, dying and dead. What were his thoughts when he reached that place? “It is the goldsmith that has brought me to this wretched state; and, as for the prince: Why should he not enquire as to how I obtained the crown? It is of no use to accuse either the goldsmith or the prince now. We are all the children of fate. We must obey her commands. Daśavarshâṇi Bandhanam. This is but the first day of my father’s prophecy. So far his statement is true. But how am I going to pass ten years here? Perhaps without anything to sustain life I may drag on my existence for a day or two. But how pass ten years? That cannot be, and I must die. Before death comes let me think of my faithful brute friends.”So pondered Gaṅgâdhara in the dark cell underground, and at that moment thought of his three friends. The tiger-king, serpent-king, and rat-king assembled at once with their armies at a garden near the kârâgṛiham, and for a while did not know what to do. A common cause—how to reach their protector, who was now in the dark cell underneath—united them all. They held their council, and decided to make an underground passage from the inside of a ruined well to the kârâgṛiham. The rat râjâ issued an order at once to that effect to his army. They, with their nimble teeth, bored the ground a long way to the walls of the prison. After reaching it they found that their teeth could not work on the hard stones. The bandicoots were then specially ordered for the business; they, with their hard teeth, made a small slit in the wall for a rat to pass and repass without difficulty. Thus a passage was effected.The rat râjâ entered first to condole with his protector on his misfortune. The king of the tigers sent word through the snake-king that he sympathised most sincerely with his sorrow, and that he was ready to render all help for his deliverance. He suggested a means for his escape also. The serpent râjâ went in, and gave Gaṅgâdhara hopes of delivery. The rat-king undertook to supply his protector with provisions. “Whatever sweetmeats or bread are prepared in any house, one and all of you must try to bring whatever you can to our benefactor. Whatever clothes you find hanging in a house, cut down, dip the pieces in water, and bring the wet bits to our benefactor. He will squeeze them and gather water for drink! and the bread and sweetmeats shall form his food.” Having issued these orders the king of the rats, took leave of Gaṅgâdhara. They, in obedience to their king’s order, continued to supply provisions and water.The Nâgarâja said:—“I sincerely condole with you in your calamity; the tiger-king also fully sympathises with you, and wants me to tell you so, as he cannot drag his huge body here as we have done with our small ones. The king of the rats has promised to do his best to provide you with food. We would now do what we can for your release. From this day we shall issue orders to our armies to oppress all the subjects of this kingdom. The percentage of death by snake-bite and tigers shall increase from this day. And day by day it shall continue to increase till your release. After eating what the rats bring you, you had better take your seat near the entrance of the kârâgṛiham. Owing to the many sudden deaths that will occur some people that walk over the prison may say, ‘How wicked the king has become. Were it not for his wickedness so many dreadful deaths by snake-bites could never occur.’ Whenever you hear people speaking so, you had better bawl out so as to be heard by them, ‘The wretched prince imprisoned me on the false charge of having killed his father, while it was a tiger that killed him. From that day these calamities have broken out in his dominions. If I were released I would save all by my powers of healing poisonous wounds and by incantations.’ Some one may report this to the king, and if he knows it, you will obtain your liberty.” Thus comforting his protector in trouble, he advised him to pluck up courage, and took leave of him. From that day tigers and serpents, acting under the special orders of their kings, united in killing as many persons and cattle as possible. Every day people were carried away by tigers or bitten by serpents. This havoc continued. Gaṅgâdhara went on roaring as loud he could that he would save those lives, had he only his liberty. Few heard him. The few that did took his words for the voice of a ghost. “How could he manage to live without food and drink for so long a time?” said the persons walking over his head to each other. Thus passed months and years. Gaṅgâdhara sat in the dark cellar, without the sun’s light falling upon him, and feasted upon the bread-crumbs and sweetmeats that the rats so kindly supplied him with. These circumstances had completely changed his body. He had become a red, stout, huge, unwieldy lump of flesh. Thus passed full ten years, as prophesied in the horoscope—Daśavarshâṇi Bandhanam.Ten complete years rolled away in close imprisonment. On the last evening of the tenth year one of the serpents got into the bed-chamber of the princess and sucked her life. She breathed her last. She was the only daughter of the king. He had no other issue—son or daughter. His only hope was in her; and she was snatched away by a cruel and untimely death. The king at once sent for all the snake-bite curers. He promised half his kingdom and his daughter’s hand to him who would restore her to life. Now it was that a servant of the king, who had several times overheard Gaṅgâdhara’s cries, reported the matter to him. The king at once ordered the cell to be examined. There was the man sitting in it. How has he managed to live so long in the cell? Some whispered that he must be a divine being. Some concluded that he must surely win the hand of the princess by restoring her to life. Thus they discussed, and the discussions brought Gaṅgâdhara to the king.The king no sooner saw Gaṅgâdhara than he fell on the ground. He was struck by the majesty and grandeur of his person. His ten years’ imprisonment in the deep cell underground had given a sort of lustre to his body, which was not to be met with in ordinary persons. His hair had first to be cut before his face could be seen. The king begged forgiveness for his former fault, and requested him to revive his daughter.“Bring me in a muhûrta(an hour and a half) all the corpses of men and cattle, dying and dead, that remain unburnt or unburied within the range of your dominions; I shall revive them all,” were the only words that Gaṅgâdhara spoke. After it he closed his lips as if in deep meditation, which commanded more respect than ever.Cart-loads of corpses of men and cattle began to come in every minute. Even graves, it is said, were broken open, and corpses buried a day or two before were taken out and sent for the revival. As soon as all were ready, Gaṅgâdhara took a vessel full of water and sprinkled it over them all, thinking only of his Nâgarâja and Vyâghrarâja(King of tigers).All rose up as if from deep slumber, and went to their respective homes. The princess, too, was restored to life. The joy of the king knew no bounds. He cursed the day on which he imprisoned him, blamed himself for having believed the word of a goldsmith, and offered him the hand of his daughter and the whole kingdom, instead of half as he promised. Gaṅgâdhara would not accept anything. The king requested him to put a stop for ever to these calamities. He agreed to do so, and asked the king to assemble all his subjects in a wood near the town. “I shall there call in all the tigers and serpents and give them a general order.” So said Gaṅgâdhara, and the king accordingly gave the order. In a couple of ghaṭikâs(An Indian hour = 24 min.) the wood near Ujjaini was full of people, who assembled to witness the authority of man over such enemies of human beings as tigers and serpents. “He is no man; be sure of that. How could he have managed to live for ten years without food and drink? He is surely a god.” Thus speculated the mob.When the whole town was assembled, just at the dusk of evening, Gaṅgâdhara sat dumb for a moment, and thought upon the Vyâghrarâja and Nâgarâja, who came running with all their armies. People began to take to their heels at the sight of tigers. Gaṅgâdhara assured them of safety, and stopped them.The grey light of the evening, the pumpkin colour of Gaṅgâdhara, the holy ashes scattered lavishly over his body, the tigers and snakes humbling themselves at his feet, gave him the true majesty of the god Gaṅgâdhara(Śiva). For who else by a single word could thus command vast armies of tigers and serpents, said some among the people. “Care not for it; it may be by magic. That is not a great thing. That he revived cart-loads of corpses makes him surely Gaṅgâdhara,” said others. The scene produced a very great effect upon the minds of the mob.“Why should you, my children, thus trouble these poor subjects of Ujjaini? Reply to me, and henceforth desist from your ravages.” Thus said the Soothsayer’s son, and the following reply came from the king of the tigers; “Why should this base king imprison your honour, believing the mere word of a goldsmith that your honour killed his father? All the hunters told him that his father was carried away by a tiger. I was the messenger of death sent to deal the blow on his neck. I did it, and gave the crown to your honour. The prince makes no enquiry, and at once imprisons your honour. How can we expect justice from such a stupid king as that? Unless he adopts a better standard of justice we will go on with our destruction.”The king heard, cursed the day on which he believed in the word of a goldsmith, beat his head, tore his hair, wept and wailed for his crime, asked a thousand pardons, and swore to rule in a just way from that day. The serpent-king and tiger-king also promised to observe their oath as long as justice prevailed, and took their leave. The goldsmith fled for his life. He was caught by the soldiers of the king, and was pardoned by the generous Gaṅgâdhara, whose voice now reigned supreme. All returned to their homes.The king again pressed Gaṅgâdhara to accept the hand of his daughter. He agreed to do so, not then, but some time afterwards. He wished to go and see his elder brother first, and then to return and marry the princess. The king agreed; and Gaṅgâdhara left the city that very day on his way home.It so happened that unwittingly he took a wrong road, and had to pass near a sea coast. His elder brother was also on his way up to Bânâras by that very same route. They met and recognised each other, even at a distance. They flew into each other’s arms. Both remained still for a time almost unconscious with joy. The emotion of pleasure (ânanda) was so great, especially in Gaṅgâdhara, that it proved dangerous to his life. In a word, he died of joy.The sorrow of the elder brother could better be imagined than described. He saw again his lost brother, after having given up, as it were, all hopes of meeting him. He had not even asked him his adventures. That he should be snatched away by the cruel hand of death seemed unbearable to him. He wept and wailed, took the corpse on his lap, sat under a tree, and wetted it with tears. But there was no hope of his dead brother coming to life again.The elder brother was a devout worshipper of Gaṇapati(The eldest son of Śiva commonly known as the belly god).That was a Friday, a day very sacred to that god. The elder brother took the corpse to the nearest Gaṇêśa(Another name of Gaṇapati) temple and called upon him. The god came, and asked him what he wanted. “My poor brother is dead and gone; and this is his corpse. Kindly keep it in your charge till I finish worshipping you. If I leave it anywhere else the devils may snatch it away when I am absent worshipping you; after finishing your pûjâ(Worship) I shall burn him.” Thus said the elder brother, and, giving the corpse to the god Gaṇêśa, he went to prepare himself for that deity’s ceremonials. Gaṇêśa made over the corpse to his Gaṇas(Attendants of Gaṇêśa.), asking them to watch over it carefully.So a spoiled child receives a fruit from its father, who, when he gives it the fruit asks the child to keep it safe. The child thinks within itself, “My father will forgive me if I eat a portion of it.” So saying it eats a portion, and when it finds it so sweet, it eats the whole, saying, “Come what will, what can father do, after all, if I eat it? Perhaps give me a stroke or two on the back. Perhaps he may forgive me.” In the same way these Gaṇas of Gaṇapati first ate a portion of the corpse, and when they found it sweet, for we know it was crammed up with the sweetmeats of the kind rats, devoured the whole, and began consulting about the best excuse possible to offer to their master.The elder brother, after finishing the pûjâ, demanded his brother’s corpse of the god. The god called his Gaṇas who came to the front blinking, and fearing the anger of their master. The god was greatly enraged. The elder brother was very angry. When the corpse was not forthcoming he cuttingly remarked, “Is this, after all, the return for my deep belief in you? You are unable even to return my brother’s corpse.” Gaṇêśa was much ashamed at the remark, and at the uneasiness that he had caused to his worshipper. So he, by his divine power, gave him a living Gaṅgâdhara instead of the dead corpse. Thus was the second son of the Soothsayer restored to life.The brothers had a long talk about each other’s adventures. They both went to Ujjaini, where Gaṅgâdhara married the princess, and succeeded to the throne of that kingdom. He reigned for a long time, conferring several benefits upon his brother. How is the horoscope to be interpreted? A special synod of Soothsayers was held. A thousand emendations were suggested. Gaṅgâdhara would not accept them. At last one Soothsayer cut the knot by stopping at a different place in reading, “Samudra tîrê maraṇam kiñchit.” “On the sea-shore death for some time. Then “Bhôgam bhavishyati.” “There shall be happiness for the person concerned.” Thus the passage was interpreted. “Yes; my father’s words never went wrong,” said Gaṅgâdhara. The three brute kings continued their visits often to the Soothsayer’s son, the then king of Ujjaini. Even the faithless goldsmith became a frequent visitor at the palace, and a receiver of several benefits from royal hands.
In a village, in olden times, lived two young men who were such great friends that they cared for no one else, on that account everybody disliked and shunned them. They could find no home to live in so they said to each other, “Since everybody dislikes us the sooner we go away from the village the better,” and they started toward the South.When night overtook them they looked around for a dry place, where leaves had fallen, for they wanted to sleep comfortably.At first the friends had only evergreen and roots to eat, but afterward they made bows and arrows and killed birds and small game.When they were out of the forest, they came to opening where there was swampy ground, but they traveled on. Once in a while one said to the other, “I am afraid we will never get across the swamp”; but the other said encouraging words, and they went on.One day the two young men came to a tall hemlock tree. “Climb up and look around. See if there is a house in sight,” said one to the other.The limbs of the hemlock came almost to the ground and the young man climbed up easily. When he reached the top of the tree and looked off, he saw a beautiful trail leaping from the tree into the air. He called to his companion, “Throw down our bows and arrows and come up here and see what a splendid trail I have found.”The other climbed the tree and looking at the trail, said, “Let us find out where it leads to.”They looked in every direction, but saw no forest or trees on any side.It had always been necessary that whatever the two friends undertook they should be of one mind. They were now of one mind and they started off together.The trail from the tree seemed as solid as if upon the ground, and extended as far as eye could see.The young men traveled along the trail and never knew they were going up till they had reached another world. It seemed pleasant there, but the leader said, “Don’t stop here, let us go on and see where the trail ends.”Along the trail there was plenty of game, but the young men paid no heed to it. After a time they came to a bark-house out of which smoke was rising. One of the young men said, “It is customary for travelers to stop at any house near a trail and find out who is living there. Let us look in here.”The elder went first. The house was of bark with bark suspended for a door. They pushed the door open and saw an old man sitting inside; he saluted the young men, and said, “I know the trouble you have undergone, I know that people dislike you. I have called you and you have come from the lower world, you often spoke of the world above. I caused you to follow the trail that leads up here. Come into my house, but you cannot stay long for I must go elsewhere.”The man, who seemed to be about middle age, said, “People down in your world often speak of a brother whose home is in ‘the Blue.’ I am that brother. I am he who makes light (the sun). HÁWENIYO commands me, says I must give light to the world. This is my resting place and I can stay here but a short time. When you come this way again you must stop. I am always here at midday. I go under the earth and come out in the East. When you come to the next house you must go in and speak to the woman who lives there,” said the man as he started off toward the West.The two young men traveled on till they came to second bark house, then the leader said, “We must stop here for our friend told us to.”The house looked exactly like the first one. The young men went inside and saw an old woman sewing skins together. They said to her, “We have come, Grandmother.”“I am glad,” said she. “It was your brother who seat you here. Now you must eat, for it is a long time that you are without food.”In one part of the house they saw a bark bowl full of boiled squash, evidently just from the kettle. They sat down and the old woman gave each of them half of a squash and a quarter of a loaf of Indian bread, saying, “This will be enough for both.”“No,” said one of the young men, “there is no more here than I can eat.”“It is enough,” said the woman, “when you come back, stop and I will give you more, I am the woman whom people down below call the ‘Moon.’ Be on your guard; the trail is full of danger, you must be brave. Don’t look at anything outside of your path for an enemy is there. Don’t heed anything you see or hear; if you do you are lost. After a while you will pass the dangerous part and come to a house where you can stop.”As the friends traveled on they saw all kinds of fruit and game. It called to them “Stop! Come and eat, I am good!”But they remembered the old woman’s words and paid no heed. Each fruit had words of its own with which it begged the young men to come and eat of it. After a while the fruit stopped calling, and the friends thought, “Maybe we are out of trouble now and will soon come to the house where the old woman told us to stop.”But they came to a second place. The first fruit was full of witchcraft. If they had eaten of it, they would have died, but at the second place they ate of the fruit and were refreshed. After a while, they saw a house in the distance and one said to the other, “We are coming to a place where we may be in danger, we may have no mind of our own. We wanted to come and now that we are here we must endure what we meet.”They talked in this way till they came to the house. In the house they found a man who called himself their uncle and said, “I am glad that your brother has sent you. You are going to a large assembly, but you cannot join it unless I change you.”One of the young men was frightened. He asked, “Why should we be changed? We are men, we have come thus far in our own form.”“You have come here in your own form, but now you must be made ready to enter the assembly of this world.”The other young man looked steadfastly at his uncle and was not frightened or discouraged.The old man went to another part of the house and brought out a long wide strip of bark, set it up slanting, and said, “The first that came shall be transformed first,” and he called to the young man to come and lie on the bark. He did so; then the old man asked, “Are you ready?”“I am ready.”The uncle blew through his hand on to the young man’s head, and bones and flesh separated and fell into two heaps.The other nephew looked on, saw how the uncle took every joint, separated the parts, wiped and put the bones aside, and he thought, “My luck is hard. I am alone here; my friend is gone.”After the bones had been cleaned the old man put them in place again then saying, “Be ready!” he blew through his hands on to the skull of the skeleton. The force of the blowing sent the skeleton a long distance, but again it was a man. This was the way in which each man had to be purified.The second nephew did not want to be treated in the same manner. He did not go forward willingly, but when the uncle was ready he gave the word and the young man could not hold back. He lay on the bark and was treated as his friend had been treated, while the friend in his turn looked on. Because he had been unwilling, his body was more difficult to purify.The old man washed and wiped each bone. He took more uncleanness from this nephew than from the first After he had put the bones in place, and said, “Be ready!” he blew on the skull with such force that the skeleton shot off a long distance, but it became a beautiful young man.Then the old man said, “You are purified. Now I will try your power.”They went outside and stood in the opening. A deer was feeding on the grass. The uncle said to one of the young men, “Catch that deer.” To the deer he called out, “Be on your guard, my nephew is going to kill you!”The deer sprang off, but had made only a few bounds when the young man was at its side. The uncle saw how he caught the deer, and, knowing that he was fit for any race, he said, “You are ready now.”Then he told the second nephew to catch the deer calling out to the deer, “Be on your guard, my nephew is going to kill you!”The deer sprang away, but the young man overtook it and brought it to the old man, who said, “You also are ready. You can go to the assembly and see what you can accomplish.”The young men started. They had not gone far when they saw a man coming toward them. There was a little hollow ahead. They saw him go down into this hollow and come up, walking very fast. As the three men met, the stranger said, “You have come, brothers. Your elder brother wanted you to come. Now you must go with me to the great assembly. He who has charge of the assembly is the same who made the world from which you hall come. As you could not go to the assembly alone I have been sent to conduct you.”The stranger turned and the young men followed him at what seemed to them incredible speed. Soon they heard the noise as of a multitude of voices and the sound grew louder and louder. The stranger said, “It is the sound of mirth and it comes from the assembly.”When they approached there seemed to be an immense settlement and the stranger said to one of the young men, “Your sister’s house is off at the end, and your brothers’ are there too. You cannot go into their houses for you did not die before you came here. You must pass through the same that they have to enter their homes.”As the young men went along, they felt a great desire to go into the houses, but they knew they could not. As they walked they inhaled the odor of beautiful flowers that grew along the path.After a while the guide pointed to a long house, and said, “That is where HÁWENIYO lives, he who made the world below and allowed you to come here. We will sit down by the door and afterward go in.”The long house was built with low walls and hung inside with green boughs that gave out a delightful odor. As the air moved, a strong perfume came from the flowers and herbs that were inside the house. As the young men entered, they saw a great many people, who had come to praise HÁWENIYO and have the Green Corn dance. These people did not notice that two men were there in human flesh–for the two had been purified.A man came out of the crowd and proclaimed what things had to be done. The guide said, “This is the one whom you call HÁWENIYO. It is here that those who are good in the lower world come when they die. When you reach home you will tell your people what you have seen. Now I will go back with you.”The three started. When they came to the place where he had met them, the guide left them and the young men went on alone. They traveled very swiftly, calling at each place where they had stopped when coming, but only to return thanks.When they reached Sun’s house, Sun said, “You are going home. I caused you to come hither. You have been ten days traveling, but what we call a day here is a year in the lower world.”When the young men got back to the lower world they were about thirty years old. The ten years they had been gone seemed no longer than going in the morning and coming back in the evening.Sun took them to the hemlock tree where the trail began. They found that their bows, which they had left on the ground, were covered with moss. Sun reached for the bows and arrows, took them in his hands, rapped off the moss, and they were as new as if just made. He said “Long ago the people moved from the village where you were born.”It was twelve looks from the hemlock tree to where the village had been. When they came to the end of twelve looks Sun said, “Here is where the village was.” Clearings and little hillocks where corn had been were to be seen, but grass was growing everywhere.Sun said, “You will find your people twelve looks farther on. When you come to the first house ask the old man you will find there, if years ago he heard of two young men who disappeared from his village. If he gives you no information, go to the next house, you will find an old woman there, ask her the same question. Now we will part.”Sun turned back and the young men went forward, After a time they came to an opening in the woods and saw a village. They entered the first house and called the old man sitting there “Grandfather” and one asked, “Do you remember that once two young men were lost from the village where you were living?”The old man held his head down, as if thinking, then raised it and said, “Why do you ask the question? Two young men did disappear. It was said that they were lost, but it was never known in what way.”“How long ago did this happen?”“At the time they were lost the village was forsaken. It was ten years ago. The old chief told the young men that they must not stay any longer in that place; their children or grandchildren might disappear in the same way the two friends had. But,” said the old man, “there is a woman in the next house, who can tell you more than I can.They went to the second house and said to the woman they found there, “How do you do, Grandmother, we have come to talk with you.” Their first question was, “Why did your people desert the old village?”“Two young men disappeared,” replied the old woman. “The place was blamed for it; people thought it must be inhabited by some evil thing which took off their children.”The young men thought they had done as Sun instructed them to do, so they said, “We are the two who were lost. We have returned.”“Where have you been?” asked the old woman.“We cannot tell you alone, but let an assembly be called and we will speak of all we have seen. Notify the people that there will be dancing, then they will come. There was nothing but mirth where we were.”The old woman said, “It is the duty of the man who lives in that house yonder to notify the people of such gatherings. I will go and tell him.”“Very well,” said the young man, “the account of our journey is important, none of our people will ever see what we have seen and return to tell about it.”The old woman told the messenger that two men had come to the village with important news and a meeting of the people must be called.The messenger started and when he came to a certain spot he called out, “Gowe! Gowe!” and continued to call till he reached the end of the village.The people assembled and the chief went to the old woman’s cabin and said to the two strangers, “Let your work be done.”When the young men came to the assembly, people looked at them with curiosity, for they seemed to be a different kind of people. They did not recognize them.The chief said, “These men are here with a message. Whence they have come no one knows, for we know of no other people living in the world but ourselves.”The chief sat down and one of the young men rose, and said, “Listen!”–He was the first one purified, he had been first in all things afterward and was now the first to speak–“I want to ask you a question. Did you, while living in your old village lose two young men?A woman rose up, and said, “I will answer that question. Two young men, despised and shunned by all, disappeared and have not been seen since.” And she sat down.Then the old man whom the two friends had visited rose, but he couldn’t say much.The last man purified stood up, and said, “We are the two who disappeared, nobody cared for us and we ‘were grieved. We have been to the other world, have been in the Southern world, and have returned to you. A guide came with us to our starting place. Your own wickedness caused you to leave your village and homes. You are like animals in the forest; when their young are old enough they desert them. As soon as we were large enough, you deserted us. The birds build homes for their young, but soon leave them. You will see that whenever the young bird meets its mother it flutters its wings, but the mother passes it by. We, like the young bird, were happy to meet you, but you didn’t want to see us. When we went away we were young; we are now men. What is your opinion? Will it be customary hereafter to desert homeless children?”The young man’s companion listened to his speech and then said, “Let this be a starting point. Whenever a poor family are rearing children, never forsake them. When parents die, care for their fatherless and motherless children.”The two friends told how they had visited the long house in “the Blue” and seen HÁWENIYO; how they had been directed to describe to their people in the lower world all they had seen. Then they told the people they must learn the dance that HÁWENIYO wished them to know, the Green Corn dance.One of the young men sang the song he had heard in the world above; the other taught the people how to dance to the song. He said to them, “Let it be that whatever we saw done up there will be done here.” The people adopted the rules laid down for them at this time, and their religion was formed.The friend, who was last to be purified, became HADENTHENI (Speaker), the first to be purified became HANIGONGEnDATHA (Definer), to explain the meaning of everything touching HÁWENIYO.After a time, the two young men said, “Let us continue our journey.” They went on. They found many villages and spoke to the people. This is why the Indians are religious to-day. Those men were good in all things and the people followed their example.They traveled till they had finished their work in the North, then they said, “We have spoken peace to all the tribes of the North, now we will return to our birthplace.”After they had been at home a while, they said, “Let us travel South from the hemlock tree and let our food be the game we kill.”When they had traveled a few days they camped and began to hunt, going in different directions in quest of game. During one of those expeditions, the Speaker saw a man dodging around the trees. As he approached the dodger stopped, and said, “Grandson, I am glad to see you. I have been sent to tell you that you and others are in great danger. This is all I can say, but come with me to my chief, he will answer your questions.”The Speaker followed the stranger for he wanted to find out if there were really people living near.The two soon came to a high cliff and the stranger said, “We live down there.”Looking closely the young man saw an almost invisible trail. They followed the trail to the bottom of the ravine and came to an opening in the rocks. When about to enter the stranger said, “Leave your bow and arrows, as you do when you go into other houses.”They went through the first opening and into a second. In the second was an old man and an old woman. The stranger said to them, “I have brought your grandson.”“We have met many times,” said the old man, “but you have never been able to know it. Now I have sent for You for I want to tell you that you are in great danger. Your companion has gone far into the forest and the NYAGWAIHE GOWA is on his trail. At midday to-morrow the enemy will be at your camp. He is full of witchcraft and if you do not act as I tell you he will kill you and kill us. We have many times tried to destroy NYAGWAIHE GOWA, but he is so full of magic that we cannot kill him.“Go back to your camp, your friend is there now. Cut some basswood sticks and make them into mannikins. When the mannikins are finished put them down in front of your brush house, near the door, and give each one a bow and arrow. When NYAGWAIHE GOWA approaches, you will know it by the roar. Fell trees in the path and be ready with bow and arrows.“NYAGWAIHE GOWA’s life is in his feet. When he raises a foot to cross the trees you have felled you will see a white spot in the sole of the foot; there his heart is. Hit it if you can, for there only will a shot take effect.”The young man went back to camp, cut down basswood trees, and, with the aid of his friend, made two mannikins. He obeyed the old man in everything.The old man who lived among the rocks was of the GADJIQSA (Husk False Face) people.The young men sat in their brush house till midday. When they heard NYAGWAIHE GOWA roaring, far off in the ravine, they grew weak. GADJIQSA had told them to keep on the leeward of NYAGWAIHE so he might not scent them.They were frightened, but said, “We cannot run away, we would not escape. Our only chance is to stay here and kill the enemy. If he kills us he will go to our village and destroy everybody.”As the creature came in sight it was furious. Whenever it came to a tree it sprang at it and tore it to pieces; the smaller trees fell at its touch.Every time the creature roared, the young men lost their strength and were ready to drop to the ground. When the Bear passed their hiding place and went toward the mannikins and raised his feet in crossing a tree one of the men shot at the white spot and when he was going over a second tree the other man shot him through the other foot. This made NYAGWAIHE rage fearfully. He seized one of the mannikins and bit it through the body, then tore the house to bits, but a little farther on he fell dead.The young men cut the Bear’s hind feet off, for GADJIQSA had said that if they failed to do this NYAGWAIHE would come to life. As they cut off the feet the whole body quivered.The ribs of this Bear were not like those in other animals, they formed one solid bone. They cut the carcass into pieces and burned the pieces to ashes, together with all the bones, for GADJIQSA said, “If even one particle of bone is left, NYAGWAIHE GOWA will come to life, and the hide must be hung over a fire and smoked, otherwise it will retain life and become NYAGWAIHE GOWA himself again.”The young men did exactly as they had been told, then they continued to hunt.Again a man from the GADJIQSA met one of the friends, and led him to the old man among the rocks, who said, “By killing the Great Bear you saved my people as well as your own. HÁWENIYO (The Great Spirit) has given us power to aid men. It is my wish that you and your people should prosper. There is another enemy to conquer. When you leave your camp, you will go on till you come to a river. There you will camp again, but be on your guard.”The young men set out again. When they came to a river they camped, put up a bark cabin, and while one was building a fire, the other went to look for game.Soon the man building the fire heard somebody talking loudly, as though making a speech. He went toward the voice and saw the speaker in a valley beyond a low hill. He crept forward cautiously so as not to be seen. On a slight elevation stood a man surrounded by many people. The man said, “To-morrow we start for the village from which the two friends came. At the journey’s end we will have a great feast.”The young man, who was listening, knew that these people were GÉNOnSKWA (Frost and Cold) and that they were going to his village to eat all the people. He was frightened at their great number; he went back to the bark cabin, scattered the brands and put out the fire. When his friend came and asked why he had no fire, he said, “Don’t talk so loudly, there are many GÉNOnSKWA under the hill; they are going to destroy our people.”“We must hurry home,” said the other, and they started at once.The next morning they heard the approach of the GÉNOnSKWA. The sound was like heavy thunder. It was evident that they traveled much faster than the two men,One of the friends said to the other, who was a swift runner, “Run to the village and warn the people!”He ran to the village, and said, “The GÉNOnSKWA are coming. You may die, but do not die without a struggle.” Then he hurried back to his comrade.The comrade said, “I will stay near the enemy and detain him all I can.”That night the GÉNOnSKWA chief said, “No one must go far. If he does and is away when the feast begins he will lose his share of it.”The two men listening heard what the chief said. They couldn’t think of any way to save themselves or their people. The people of the village were so frightened that they ran from place to place not knowing what to do.When the GÉNOnSKWA were near the village the chief said, “Let us halt and rest.”The two friends sat in a sheltered place near the bank of a river. All at once they saw a man with a smiling face. When he came up he said, “I will save you and your people. I will conquer the GÉNOnSKWA. HÁWENIYO has sent me to aid you. You must stay here and listen, I will go alone and fight the enemy.”With a smiling face and telling the people, who were running for their lives, not to be frightened if they heard a terrible noise, the stranger went into the valley where the GÉNOnSKWAs had halted to rest.Soon a noise as of a desperate battle was heard and the two men, who had been told to listen, saw steam, from the sweat of the GÉNOnSKWA people, rising above the hill.The sound came at intervals, but decreased in volume. At last it ceased altogether and the men saw the stranger coming. When he was near, he said, “I am thankful that I was able to destroy them. The GÉNONSKWAS are dead and your people are safe. HÁWENIYO sends me to aid his people. Wherever there is witchcraft I am sent against it. I am sure to kill whomever I pursue. If a witch crawls into a tree, I shoot the tree; it opens and the witch comes out. I am he whom you call ‘Lightning. ‘”The stranger disappeared and the two men went to where the GÉNOnSKWAs army had been. Only piles of stones were left. The stones of the earth are from this battle and the killing of the GÉNONSKWAS.It was through the two purified young men that our forefathers were saved from death and lived to great old age. They foretold what would be. And to this day we hold to the teachings of those men. They obtained their religion in the upper world.Lightning is the forerunner of Spring. Warm weather destroyed the GÉNONSKWAS (Frost and Cold).
That the fox borrowed the terror he inspired from the tiger is more than a simile; but that the tiger has his decoy is something we read about in the story books, and grandfathers talk about a good deal, too. So there must be some truth in it. It is said that when a tiger devours a human being, the latter’s spirit cannot free itself, and that the tiger then uses it for a decoy. When he goes out to seek his prey, the spirit of the man he has devoured must go before him, to hide him, so that people cannot see him. And the spirit is apt to change itself into a beautiful girl, or a lump of gold or a bolt of silk. All sorts of deceptions are used to lure folk into the mountain gorges. Then the tiger comes along and devours his victim, and the new spirit must serve as his decoy. The old spirit’s time of service is over and it may go. And so it continues, turn by turn. Probably that is why they say of people who are forced to yield themselves up to cunning and powerful men, in order that others may be harmed: “They are the tiger’s decoys!”Note: This tale is traditionally narrated.
There was once a Padishah who had a son, and the little Prince had a golden ball with which he was never tired of playing. One day as he sat in his kiosk, playing as usual with his favourite toy, an old woman came to draw water from the spring which bubbled up in front of the mansion.The Shahzada, merely for a jest, threw his ball at the old woman’s jug and broke it. With out a word she fetched another jug and came again to the spring. For the second time the Prince threw his ball at the jug and broke it. The old woman was now angry, yet, fearing the Padishah, she dared not say a word, but went away and bought a third jug on credit, as she had no money. Returning a third time to the spring, she was in the very act of drawing water when again the young Prince’s ball struck her jug and shattered it to pieces. Her anger could no longer be suppressed, and, turning to ward the Shahzada, she cried: “I will say only this, my Prince: may you fall in love with the Silent Princess.” With these words she went her way.The Prince ere long found himself brooding on the old dame’s words and wondering what they could mean. The more he dwelt upon them the more they took possession of his mind, until his health began to suffer; he grew thin and pale, he had no appetite, and in a few days he was so ill that he had to remain in bed. The Padishah could not understand his son’s malady; physicians and hodjas were summoned, but none could do any good.One day the Padishah asked his son whether he could throw any light on the strange complaint from which he was suffering. Then the boy described how three times in succession he had broken an old woman’s jug, and related what she had said to him, finally expressing his conviction that neither physicians nor hodjas could effect his cure. He asked his father’s permission to set out in quest of the Silent Princess, for he felt that only in this way could he be freed from his affliction. The Padishah saw that the boy would not live long unless his mysterious disease were cured; so, after considerable hesitation, he gave his permission and appointed his lala to accompany the young Prince on his journey.Toward evening they set out and as they took no care of their appearance, in six months they looked more like wild savages than a noble prince and his lala. They had quite forgotten rest and sleep; the thought of eating and drinking never occurred to them. At last they arrived at the summit of a mountain. Here they noticed that the rocks and earth glistened like the sun. Looking round, they saw that an old man approached them. The travellers inquired the name of that region. The old man informed them that they stood on the mountain of the Silent Princess. The Princess herself wore a sevenfold veil, but that fact notwithstanding, the glitter they observed around them was caused by the extraordinary brilliance of her countenance. The travellers now inquired where the Princess resided. The old man answered that if they proceeded straight on for six months longer they would reach her serai. Hitherto many men had lost their lives in vain attempts to elicit a word from the Princess. This news, however, did not dismay the Prince, who with his lala again set off on the journey.After long wanderings they found themselves at the summit of another mountain, which they noticed was blood-red on every side. Going forward, they presently entered a village. Here the Prince said to his lala “I am very tired; let us rest a while in this place and at the same time make some inquiries.” Accordingly they entered a coffeehouse, and when it became known in the village that travellers from a distant land were in their midst the inhabitants came up one after the other to offer their greetings. The Prince inquired of them why the mountain was blood-red. He was informed that three months’ journey distant lived the Silent Princess, whose red lips reflected their hue on the mountain before them; she wore seven veils, spoke not a word, and it was said that many men had sacrificed their lives on her account. On hearing this the youth was impatient to put his fate to the test; he and his lala accordingly set out to continue their journey.After many days they saw another great mountain in the distance, and concluded it must be the dwelling-place of the object of their quest. In due time they arrived at the foot of the mountain and began the ascent. Above them towered a proud castle, the residence of the Silent Princess; and as they approached near enough to see, they observed that it was built entirely of human skulls, The Prince remarked to his lala, ” These are the heads of those who have perished in the attempt to make the Princess speak. Either we attain our object, or our skulls will be used for a similar purpose.”Before attempting to enter the castle they took up their lodgings in a han for a few days. All this time they heard nothing but weeping and lamentation: “Oh my brother!” “Oh my son!” Inquiring the cause of the general grief, the travellers were answered: “Why do you ask? It appears you also are come to die. This town belongs to the father of the Silent Princess. Whoever wishes to attempt to make her speak must first go to the Padishah, who, if he permits it, will send an escort with the hero to the Princess.”When the youth heard this he said to his lala: “We are nearly at the end of our journey. We will rest a few days longer and then see what fate has in store for us,” They continued their sojourn at the hân, and took daily walks about the tscharschi. While thus occupied one day the Prince saw a man with a nightingale in a cage.The bird caught his fancy so much that he resolved to buy it. The lala remonstrated, reminding the youth that they had a more weighty affair on hand. The Prince, however, refused to listen, and finally purchased the bird for a thousand piasters, took it to his lodging, and hung up the cage in his room. Once when the Prince was alone and wondering by what means he could make the Princess speak, some what saddened by the gloomy reflection that failure meant death, he was startled to hear the nightingale thus address him: “Why so gloomy, my prince? What troubles you?” The Prince trembled, not being sure whether it was the bird or a spirit that spoke to him. Growing calmer, he thought that perhaps it was the manifestation of Allah’s grace, and accordingly told the nightingale the story of his love for the Silent Princess, and that he was at his wits’ end to think how he should get into her presence.The bird replied: “There is nothing to worry about. It is as easy as can be. Go this evening to the serai, and take me with you. The Sultana wears seven veils; no one has ever seen her face, and she sees no one. Put me in my cage under the lamp-stand, and ask the Sultana how she is. She will vouchsafe no answer, however. Then say that as she will not condescend to speak you will converse with the lamp-stand. So begin to speak, and I will reply.”The Prince followed this counsel and went direct to the Padishah’s palace. When the Shah was informed that the newcomer wished to go to his daughter, he received the Prince and endeavoured to dissuade him from his intention. He represented that thousands already had tried in vain to make the Princess speak. He had vowed, however, to give her in marriage to the one who could succeed in eliciting a word from her; on the other hand, he who tried and failed forfeited his head. As the Prince might see for himself, his daughter’s castle was built entirely of human skulls.The hardy youth could not be moved from his purpose; he cast himself at the feet of the Padishah and vowed either to accomplish his object or perish in the attempt. Thus there was no more to be said: the Padishah ordered the Prince to be taken into the presence of his daughter.“I will now address the lamp-stand.” Illustration by Willy Pogany, published in Fourty-Four Turkish Fairy Tales by Dr. Ignácz Kenos (1913), George C. Harrap and Co, LondonIt was evening when the youth found himself in the Princess’s apartment, He put down his cage under the lamp-stand, bowed himself low before the Princess, inquired after her health, and spoke also on matters of less importance. No answer came. Then said the Prince to the Princess: “It is getting rather late, and you have not yet favoured me with a single word. I will now address the lamp-stand. Even though it has no soul it may have more feeling than you.” At these words he turned to the lamp-stand and asked: “How are you?” And the answer came directly: “Quite well; though it is many years since anyone spoke to me. Allah sent you to me this day, and I feel as glad as if the whole world were mine. May I entertain you with a story?”The Prince nodding assent, the voice proceeded: “Once there was a Shah who had a daughter, whom three Princes desired to marry. The father said to the wooers: ‘Whichever of you excels the others in enterprise shall have my daughter.’ The young men accordingly set off together, and coming to a spring they resolved to take different directions, in order to avoid any collision with each other’s pursuits. They agreed, however, to leave their rings under a stone, at the spring, each to take his own up again when he returned to the spot, thus furnishing an intimation to him who returned last of all that the others had already reached home.“The first learnt how to go a six months’ journey in an hour, the second how to make himself invisible, the third how to bring the dead to life again. All three arrived back simultaneously at the spring. He who could make himself invisible said the Padishah’s daughter was very ill and would die in two hours; the other said he would prepare a medicine that would restore her to life again; the third volunteered to deliver the medicine. Quicker than lightning he was at the palace, in the chamber where the Princess lay dead. Hardly had the medicine touched her lips than she sat up as well as ever she had been. Meanwhile both the others came in and the Shah commanded all three to relate their experiences.The nightingale paused for a few moments and then resumed: “Oh my Shahzada, which of the three Princes thinkest thou best deserved the maiden?” The Prince answered: “In my opinion, he who prepared the medicine.” The nightingale contended for him who acquainted the others of the Princess’s condition, and so they hotly disputed the matter. The Silent Princess thought to herself: “They are quite forgetting him who could go a six months’ journey in an hour.” As the dispute continued she could endure it no longer, and, lifting her sevenfold veil, she cried: “You fools! I would give the maiden to him who brought the medicine. But for him she would have remained dead.”The Padishah was immediately informed that his daughter had at length broken her silence. But the Princess protested that as she had been the victim of a ruse the youth should not be considered to have succeeded in his task until he had induced her to speak three times. Now said the Shah to the Prince: “If you can make her speak twice more she shall belong to you.”The youth left the monarch’s presence, went to his lodgings, and began to ponder the matter. While deep in thought, the nightingale said: “The Sultana is angry at having broken her silence, and has smashed the lamp stand, so tonight put me on the other stand by the wall.”Accordingly, when evening was come the Prince repaired with his nightingale to the serai. Entering the Princess’s apartment, he put the birdcage on the stand by the wall, and addressed the Sultana. As she disdained to answer, he turned to the stand and said: “The Princess refuses to speak; therefore I will converse with you. How are you?”“Quite well, thank you,” came the answer at once. “I am glad the Sultana would not speak, otherwise you would not have spoken to me. As it is, I will tell you a story, if you will listen.” “With great pleasure,” returned the Prince. “Let me hear it.”So the nightingale commenced: “In a certain town there once lived a woman with whom three men were in love–Baldji-Oglu the Honey. maker’s Son, Jagdji-Oglu the Tallowmaker’s Son, and Tiredji-Oglu the Tanner’s Son. Each used to visit the woman in such wise that neither knew of the others’ visits. While brushing her hair one day, the woman discovered a grey strand, and said to herself, ‘Alas! I am growing old. The time will soon come when my friends will become tired of me. I must make up my mind to get married.’ Next day she invited the three lovers to visit her, at different hours. The first arrival was Jagdji, who found the woman in tears. Asking the cause of her grief, he was answered: ‘My father is dead, and I have buried him in the garden; but his spirit appears to torment me. If you love me wrap yourself in the winding-sheet and go and lie for three hours in the grave; then my father’s spirit will haunt me no more.’ Saying this, the woman led him to the open grave which she had made, and as Jagdji would have drowned himself for her sake he cheerfully donned the winding-sheet and lay down in it.“In the meantime came Baldji, who inquired of the woman why she wept. She repeated the story of her father’s death and burial, and giving him a large stone, told him to go to the grave, and when the ghost appeared, to hit him with it. No sooner had Baldji taken his leave and gone to the grave than Tiredji came in. He also sympathised with the woman and inquired what was the trouble. ‘How can I help but weep,’ said the woman, ‘when my father is dead and buried in the garden. One of his enemies is a sorcerer; he is now lying in wait to carry off the body; as you may see he has already opened the grave with that intention. If you can bring me the corpse out of the grave all will be well; if not, I am lost.’ The words were scarcely uttered before Tiredji had gone to the grave to take up Jagdji and bring him into her presence. But Baldji, thinking there were two ghosts instead of one, endeavoured to hit both with the stone. Meanwhile, Jagdji, believing the ghost had struck him, sprang out of the grave and dropped the winding-sheet. Then the three men recognised each other and explanations were demanded.“Now, my Prince,” said the nightingale, “which of the three most deserved the woman? I think Tiredji.” But the Prince was for Baldji, who had put himself to so much trouble; and so they commenced to argue as before, taking care to avoid mentioning Jagdji. The Princess, who had been listening attentively to the narrative, was disappointed that the deserts of Jagdji were not taken into consideration, and she delivered her opinion with some warmth.The news that the Silent Princess had again spoken was carried to the Padishah in his palace. Yet once more must she be compelled to speak. As the youth was sitting in his room the nightingale informed him that the Princess was so furious for having been tricked into speaking again that she had broken the wall-stand to pieces. Next evening, therefore, he must put the birdcage behind the door.The third and final interview found the Princess no more amiable than usual; and as she refused to open her mouth the Prince tried his conversational powers on the door. The door (or rather the bird behind it) related the following story:There once were a carpenter, a tailor, and a softa travelling together. Coming to a certain town, they hired a common dwelling and opened business. One night when the others were asleep the carpenter got up, drank coffee, lit his chibouque, and formed an image of a charming maiden out of the small pieces of wood lying about the room. Having finished, he lay down again and fell asleep. Shortly afterwards the tailor woke up, and, seeing the image, made suitable clothing for it, put it on, and went to sleep again. About dawn the softa awoke, and, seeing the image of the lovely girl, prayed to Allah to grant it life. The softa’s prayer was heard, and the image was transformed into an incomparably beautiful living maiden, who opened her eyes as one waking from a dream. When the others rose all three men set to disputing as to the possession of the lovely creature. Now to which, in justice, should she belong? In my opinion, to the carpenter.” Thus the nightingale broke off.The Prince thought the maiden should belong to the tailor, and as on the previous occasions a lively debate ensued. The Princess’s ire was aroused at the softa’s claim being neglected, and she exclaimed: “you fools! the softa should have her. She owed her life to him; she therefore belonged to him and to no one else.”Hardly had she finished speaking than the news was carried to the Padishah. The Prince had now rightfully won the Princess–silent no longer. The whole town put on a festive appearance and began preparations for the wedding. The Prince, however, wished his marriage to take place in his father’s palace; and great was the rejoicing when he arrived home with his bride. Forty days and forty nights were the festivities kept up; and the old woman whose jugs had been broken was installed in the palace as dady, a post she filled happily to the end of her days.
The Story of the Girl Who Did Not Like To Be PrettyLong ago there lived a girl who was so pretty she grew tired of being beautiful and longed to be ugly. She was so attractive that all the young men in the whole city wanted to marry her. Every night the street in front of her house was full of youths who came to sing beneath her balcony.Linda Branca, that was the girl’s name, grew tired of being kept awake nights. It is well enough for a little while to hear songs about one’s pearly teeth and snowy arms, one’s flashing eyes and waving hair, one’s rosebud mouth and fairylike feet; but a steady diet of it becomes decidedly wearing.“I wish I were as homely as that girl who is passing by,” she remarked one day. “Then I could sleep nights.” “If I were as ugly looking as that I’d have a chance to select a really good husband perhaps. With so many to choose from it is terribly confusing. I’ll never be able to make any choice at all as things are now. I’m afraid I’ll die unwedded,” she added as she carefully surveyed the girl’s coarse hair, her large feet and hands, her ugly big mouth and ears and small red-lidded eyes. “That girl has a much better chance of a successful marriage than I have, with all this tiresome crowd of suitors to drive me distracted!”The girl in the street heard her words and looked up. When she saw how lovely Linda Branca was she was amazed indeed at the words she had heard. She thought that she must have made a mistake and asked Linda Branca to say it all over again.“You can be exactly as homely as I am,” declared the girl when at last she had sufficiently recovered from her surprise to find her tongue. “I am an artist. I can prepare a mask for you which will make you just as ugly as I am.”“Go on and make it as soon as you can!” cried Linda Branca, clapping her little hands in joy.That evening the suitors in the street under the balcony thought that the lovely Linda Branca had become very gracious. She was frequently to be seen on the balcony looking eagerly up and down the street as if she were expecting some one. Her dark eyes were sparkling and her fair cheek had a rosy flush upon it which they had never seen before.“The beautiful Linda Branca is more charming than ever,” was the burden of their songs that night.Linda Branca was so excited about her new mask that she could not have slept even if there had been no suitors to disturb her with their songs. When at last she fell asleep towards morning it was only to dream that the new mask had the face of a donkey.It was not until the next week that the mask finally arrived. Linda Branca had grown very impatient and was almost in despair lest she should never receive it. When at last the girl brought it one could easily see why it had taken a whole week to prepare it. So like a human face it was that it was plain that the making of it had called forth great patience and skill as well as necessary time.“It is even uglier than I had hoped it would be!” cried Linda Branca in delight when she saw it.Surely, when she tried it on no one of her suitors would ever have recognized the fair Linda Branca of their songs.Now Linda Branca had no mother, and her father was away on business, so it was an easy matter to prepare for her departure.Linda Branca’s father was a man of wealth who spared no money in giving his daughter beautiful gowns to enhance her rare beauty. She had one dress of blue trimmed with silver and another of blue embroidered in gold. As she packed up a few belongings to take with her, she decided to add these two favorite garments.“Who knows but I may need them sometime?” she mused as she rolled them up carefully.With the ugly mask upon her face, and dressed in a long dark cloak, she quietly stole out of the house. She went to the king’s palace in a neighboring city and inquired if they were in need of a maid.“Ask my son. It is he who rules here,” said the king’s mother.The king looked at Linda Branca with a critical eye.“I hired my last servant because she was so pretty,” he remarked. “I think I’ll hire this one because she is so ugly.”Accordingly, Linda Branca became a servant in the royal palace. She soon discovered, however, that it was the pretty maid who received all the favors. It was good to sleep nights without being disturbed by the songs of suitors under her window. Nevertheless, after a time, Linda Branca could not fail to see that it was the pretty maid who had the happy life.“I believe I’d almost be willing to be pretty again,” said Linda Branca to herself. “Perhaps it has some advantages.”She knew very well that the pretty maid was not as tired as she that night.The next day there was to be a great feast which was to last for two days. Linda Branca asked the queen if she might be allowed to attend.“Ask my son,” said the queen. “It is he who rules here.”“May I go to the feast?” asked Linda Branca when she was blacking the king’s boots.“Look out or I’ll throw my boot at you,” said the king.That night when the feast had already begun, she dressed herself carefully in the robe of blue trimmed with silver. It was indeed a pleasure to remove the ugly mask and find that she was still just as lovely as when the crowds of suitors sang about her great beauty.That night at the feast every one talked about the beauty of the mysterious stranger in the dress of blue trimmed with silver. The king himself danced with her. He was completely captivated by her charm.“Where do you come from, lovely lady?” he asked.“I come from the land of the boot,” replied Linda Branca with a gay laugh.The king was completely mystified, for he did not know where the land of the boot was. He asked the queen and all the wisemen of the court, but there was not a single one of them who had ever heard of that country. The next day they hunted through all the books and all the maps, but there was no book or map which mentioned it.“She is the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen!” cried the king. “I’d like to marry her, but how can I ever see her again if I can’t find out the location of the land she comes from!”He was in deep despair, and every one in the royal palace was nearly distracted. It was decidedly embarrassing to have the king fall in love with a stranger from a country nobody could find on a map or in a book.When the king returned from the feast he saw the ugly little maid he had hired busy at her work about the palace. The next day she again asked the queen’s permission to go to the feast that night.“Ask my son,” was the queen’s reply.When Linda Branca asked the king’s permission, he replied: “Look out or I’ll hit you with my hairbrush.”That night Linda Branca again removed her ugly mask and dressed herself in the beautiful gown of blue embroidered in gold. She was even lovelier than the night before.When she entered the grand ball room the king was almost wild with joy. He ran to her side at once and kept dancing with her the entire evening.“What country do you come from?” he asked again.“I’m from the land of the hairbrush,” replied Linda Branca.“Where is that land?” asked the king, but Linda Branca would not tell him.“Where is the land of the hairbrush?” asked the king of the queen mother, and of all the wise men of the court.Nobody could tell him, and nobody could find the land of the hairbrush upon any map or in any book.“Stupid ones!” cried the king. “I don’t believe you have half tried to find it!”He looked through all the maps and books himself and at last he grew ill from so much studying. His friends all gathered about him in the royal bedchamber and sought to console him. However he refused consolation.“I do not care whether I live or die!” he cried. “I care for nothing except the beautiful stranger who came to my feast.”Linda Branca knew that the king was ill, and when these words were reported to her she quickly dressed herself in the robe of blue trimmed with silver, which she had worn the first night of the feast. When she took off her ugly mask and looked at herself in the glass she was really pleased with her reflection.“It is not so bad after all to be pretty,” she said as she smiled.Linda Branca stole out of the palace and peeped into the window of the royal bedchamber. One of the king’s counsellors saw her.“Whose lovely face is that at the window?” he asked.“It is surely the beautiful stranger from the land of the boot,” said one.“It is the charming maiden from the land of the hairbrush,” disputed another.By the time the king himself had reached the window there was no one to be seen. He called for the queen, his mother.“Tell me, mother, who was outside my window a moment ago?” he asked.“No one unless a masquerader,” replied the queen.The poor queen was nearly worn out with worry over her son. She was afraid he was so sick that he was going to die.The next day the king had in truth grown most decidedly worse. The court physicians went about with anxious faces and the whole palace had become a place of deepest gloom.Linda Branca put on her dress of blue embroidered with gold and again peeped into the window of the royal bedchamber.Now the king had lain upon his richly carved bed with his eyes fixed every moment upon the window where the face had appeared. He did not close his eyes at all.“He can’t live long if this keeps up,” one court physician whispered to another.He had just finished saying these words when the king gave a loud cry and sprang from his bed. He ran to the window and reached it just in time to catch a piece of the skirt of blue embroidered in gold. He held it tight.“Masquerader, unmask!” he cried.Linda Branca had hastily put on the mask which she had brought with her, and now she looked up at the king with the face of the little servant he had hired. She took off the mask and smiled into his eyes.“Now at last I know who is the beautiful stranger from the land of the boot and the land of the hairbrush!” cried the king.When Linda Branca had told the king, the queen mother and all the courtiers her whole story everybody laughed.“Who ever before heard of a maiden who wanted to be less beautiful than Nature had made her!” cried the wise men.“I always knew that when my son saw fit to select his bride he would choose a rare woman,” said the queen mother proudly.The king himself did not say a single word, but gazed and gazed at the lovely face of Linda Branca with such joy in his eyes that she knew in her heart that at last she was glad to be beautiful.“Stay pretty,” is a parting greeting between women in the Azores. Perhaps it was Linda Branca herself who began saying it in the beginning.
A man who had two Daughters married one to a Gardener, the other to a Potter. Going to visit at the Gardener’s, he asked his Daughter how it fared with her. “Excellently well,” said she; “we have all that we want if only we may have a heavy rain to water our plants.”Going on to the Potter’s, he asked his other Daughter how matters went with her. “There is nothing that we want but that this fine weather and hot sun may continue, so that our tiles will bake well.”“Alas,” said the Father, “if you wish for fine weather, and your sister for rain, which shall I myself pray for?”
Once upon a time an Indian boy, Dy-yoh-wi, had an eagle. When Dy-yoh-wi went out to hunt rabbits and other small animals for food for his eagle, the people in the village were mean to the eagle. They treated it so unkindly that the eagle grew unhappy. One day he said to Dy-yoh-wi: “Go put on your war clothes and I will take you up to live among the eagles. It is pleasanter up there than here.”Di-yoh-wi did not like to leave his people; but the eagle insisted, so he did as he was bid. Then the eagle took him on his back and flew four times around the plaza. While they were flying around, Dy-yoh-wi cried and sang for he felt so sad.The people heard him singing. They came out of their houses in time to see the eagle fly away to the cliffs with him. When his father and mother heard what had happened, they wept and moaned.Dy-yoh-wi was not very happy, either, up among the eagles. His eagle did everything to make him happy. He took Dy-yoh-wi to visit in all the other eagles’ houses. He flew down among the Navaho Indians and brought back clothes and skins for him; but still Dy-yoh-wi was homesick.Two spiders saw that he was sad, so they took him down on their web one day to their home in the valley. While he was there he hunted deer to the north, the south, the east and the west. He ate and ate and then saved some of the meat for his eagle. The spiders spread the skins out in the sunshine and pulled all of the hairs out of them. Then they told Dy-yoh-wi that when he left the cliff he should stick a needle through the skins and see what he could make. That was the way they taught Dy-yoh-wi that he could make clothes and shoes out of buckskin; for the Indians had not known the use of buckskin before.But Dy-yoh-wi was not happy with the spiders either, so the eagle came down and took him up again to his home on the cliffs.“You cannot be happy here, Dy-yoh-wi,” said the eagle to him one day,” and I cannot be happy with your people, so now I will let you go home and you must let me stay here.”So Dy-yoh-wi took all the things that the eagle had gotten for him from the Navahos, and all of his deer skins and tied them in a bundle on his back. Then the eagle took him to the bottom of the cliff and he walked home.His people saw him coming and ran to tell his father and mother. They all rushed out to meet him and there was great rejoicing over Dy-yoh-wi’s return.Dy-yoh-wi grew to be a great man. He taught his people how to make clothes and moccasins of buckskin and never again caught another eagle.Note: Seama, a Laguna Pueblo
There was once a girl who was idle and would not spin, and let her mother say what she would, she could not bring her to it. At last the mother was once so overcome with anger and impatience, that she beat her, on which the girl began to weep loudly. Now at this very moment the Queen drove by, and when she heard the weeping she stopped her carriage, went into the house and asked the mother why she was beating her daughter so that the cries could be heard out on the road?Then the woman was ashamed to reveal the laziness of her daughter and said, “I cannot get her to leave off spinning. She insists on spinning for ever and ever, and I am poor, and cannot procure the flax.”Then answered the Queen, “There is nothing that I like better to hear than spinning, and I am never happier than when the wheels are humming. Let me have your daughter with me in the palace, I have flax enough, and there she shall spin as much as she likes.”The mother was heartily satisfied with this, and the Queen took the girl with her. When they had arrived at the palace, she led her up into three rooms which were filled from the bottom to the top with the finest flax.{Note: Listen to the Three Spinning Women plus audiobooks of more Brothers Grimm fairy tales on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}“Now spin me this flax,” said she, “and when you have done it, you shall have my eldest son for a husband, even if you are poor. I care not for that, your tireless work is dowry enough.”The girl was secretly terrified, for she could not have spun the flax, no, not if she had lived till she was three hundred years old, and had sat at it every day from morning till night. When therefore she was alone, she began to weep, and sat thus for three days without moving a finger.On the third day came the Queen, and when she saw that nothing had been spun yet, she was surprised; but the girl excused herself by saying that she had not been able to begin because of her great distress at leaving her mother’s house. The Queen was satisfied with this, but said when she was going away, “Tomorrow you must begin to work.”When the girl was alone again, she did not know what to do, and in her distress went to the window. Then she saw three women coming towards her, the first of whom had a broad flat foot, the second had such a great underlip that it hung down over her chin, and the third had a broad thumb. They remained standing before the window, looked up, and asked the girl what was amiss with her?She complained of her trouble, and then they offered her their help and said, “If you will invite us to the wedding, not be ashamed of us, and will call us your aunts, and likewise will place us at your table, we will spin up the flax for you, and that in a very short time.”“With all my heart,” she replied, “do but come in and begin the work at once.” Then she let in the three strange women, and cleared a place in the first room, where they seated themselves and began their spinning. The one drew the thread and trod the wheel, the other wetted the thread, the third twisted it, and struck the table with her finger, and as often as she struck it, a skein of thread fell to the ground that was spun in the finest manner possible.The girl concealed the three spinners from the Queen, and showed her whenever she came the great quantity of spun thread, until the latter could not praise her enough. When the first room was empty she went to the second, and at last to the third, and that too was quickly cleared. Then the three women took leave and said to the girl, “Do not forget what you have promised us, it will make your fortune.”When the maiden showed the Queen the empty rooms, and the great heap of yarn, she gave orders for the wedding, and the bridegroom rejoiced that he was to have such a clever and industrious wife, and praised her mightily.“I have three aunts,” said the girl, “and as they have been very kind to me, I should not like to forget them in my good fortune; allow me to invite them to the wedding, and let them sit with us at table.”The Queen and the bridegroom said, “Why should we not allow that?” Therefore when the feast began, the three women entered in strange apparel, and the bride said, “Welcome, dear aunts.”“Ah,” said the bridegroom, “how did you come by these odious friends?” Thereupon he went to the one with the broad flat foot, and said, “How do you come by such a broad foot?”“By treading,” she answered, “by treading.”Then the bridegroom went to the second, and said, “How do you come by your falling lip?”“By licking,” she answered, “by licking.”Then he asked the third, “How do you come by your broad thumb?”“By twisting the thread,” she answered, “by twisting the thread.”On this the King’s son was alarmed and said, “Neither now nor ever shall my beautiful bride touch a spinning-wheel.” And thus she got rid of the hateful flax-spinning.
Once upon a time two young men living in a small village fell in love with the same girl. During the winter, it was all night except for an hour or so about noon, when the darkness seemed a little less dark, and then they used to see which of them could tempt her out for a sleigh ride with the Northern Lights flashing above them, or which could persuade her to come to a dance in some neighbouring barn. But when the spring began, and the light grew longer, the hearts of the villagers leapt at the sight of the sun, and a day was fixed for the boats to be brought out, and the great nets to be spread in the bays of some islands that lay a few miles to the north. Everybody went on this expedition, and the two young men and the girl went with them.They all sailed merrily across the sea chattering like a flock of magpies, or singing their favourite songs. And when they reached the shore, what an unpacking there was! For this was a noted fishing ground, and here they would live, in little wooden huts, till autumn and bad weather came round again.The maiden and the two young men happened to share the same hut with some friends, and fished daily from the same boat. And as time went on, one of the youths remarked that the girl took less notice of him than she did of his companion. At first he tried to think that he was dreaming, and for a long while he kept his eyes shut very tight to what he did not want to see, but in spite of his efforts, the truth managed to wriggle through, and then the young man gave up trying to deceive himself, and set about finding some way to get the better of his rival.The plan that he hit upon could not be carried out for some months; but the longer the young man thought of it, the more pleased he was with it, so he made no sign of his feelings, and waited patiently till the moment came. This was the very day that they were all going to leave the islands, and sail back to the mainland for the winter. In the bustle and hurry of departure, the cunning fisherman contrived that their boat should be the last to put off, and when everything was ready, and the sails about to be set, he suddenly called out:‘Oh, dear, what shall I do! I have left my best knife behind in the hut. Run, like a good fellow, and get it for me, while I raise the anchor and loosen the tiller.’Not thinking any harm, the youth jumped back on shore and made his way up the steep hank. At the door of the hut he stopped and looked back, then started and gazed in horror. The head of the boat stood out to sea, and he was left alone on the island.Yes, there was no doubt of it–he was quite alone; and he had nothing to help him except the knife which his comrade had purposely dropped on the ledge of the window. For some minutes he was too stunned by the treachery of his friend to think about anything at all, but after a while he shook himself awake, and determined that he would manage to keep alive somehow, if it were only to revenge himself.So he put the knife in his pocket and went off to a part of the island which was not so bare as the rest, and had a small grove of trees. :From one of these he cut himself a bow, which he strung with a piece of cord that had been left lying about the huts.When this was ready the young man ran down to the shore and shot one or two sea-birds, which he plucked and cooked for supper.In this way the months slipped by, and Christmas came round again. The evening before, the youth went down to the rocks and into the copse, collecting all the drift wood the sea had washed up or the gale had blown down, and he piled it up in a great stack outside the door, so that he might not have to fetch any all the next day. As soon as his task was done, he paused and looked out towards the mainland, thinking of Christmas Eve last year, and the merry dance they had had. The night was still and cold, and by the help of the Northern Lights he could almost sea across to the opposite coast, when, suddenly, he noticed a boat, which seemed steering straight for the island. At first he could hardly stand for joy, the chance of speaking to another man was so delightful; but as the boat drew near there was something, he could not tell what, that was different from the boats which he had been used to all his life, and when it touched the shore he saw that the people that filled it were beings of another world than ours. Then he hastily stepped behind the wood stack, and waited for what might happen next.The strange folk one by one jumped on to the rocks, each bearing a load of something that they wanted. Among the women he remarked two young girls, more beautiful and better dressed than any of the rest, carrying between them two great baskets full of provisions. The young man peeped out cautiously to see what all this crowd could be doing inside the tiny hut, but in a moment he drew back again, as the girls returned, and looked about as if they wanted to find out what sort of a place the island was.Their sharp eyes soon discovered the form of a man crouching behind the bundles of sticks, and at first they felt a little frightened, and started as if they would run away. But the youth remained so still, that they took courage and laughed gaily to each other. ‘What a strange creature, let us try what he is made of,’ said one, and she stooped down and gave him a pinch.Now the young man had a pin sticking in the sleeve of his jacket, and the moment the girl’s hand touched him she pricked it so sharply that the blood came. The girl screamed so loudly that the people all ran out of their huts to see what was the matter. But directly they caught sight of the man they turned and fled in the other direction, and picking up the goods they had brought with them scampered as fast as they could down to the shore. In an instant, boat, people, and goods had vanished completely.In their hurry they had, however, forgotten two things: a bundle of keys which lay on the table, and the girl whom the pin had pricked, and who now stood pale and helpless beside the wood stack.“You’ll have to make me your wife, said the elf maiden.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Brown Fairy Book by Andrwew Lang (1904), Longmans, Green and Company.‘You will have to make me your wife,’ she said at last, ‘for you have drawn my blood, and I belong to you.’‘Why not? I am quite willing,’ answered he. ‘But how do you suppose we can manage to live till summer comes round again?’‘Do not be anxious about that,’ said the girl; ‘if you will only marry me all will be well. I am very rich, and all my family are rich also.’Then the young man gave her his promise to make her his wife, and the girl fulfilled her part of the bargain, and food was plentiful on the island all through the long winter months, though he never knew how it got there. And by-and-by it was spring once more, and time for the fisher-folk to sail from the mainland.‘Where are we to go now?’ asked the girl, one day, when the sun seemed brighter and the wind softer than usual.‘I do not care where I go,’ answered the young man; ‘what do you think?’The girl replied that she would like to go somewhere right at the other end of the island, and build a house, far away from the huts of the fishing-folk. And he consented, and that very day they set off in search of a sheltered spot on the banks of a stream, so that it would be easy to get water.In a tiny bay, on the opposite side of the island they found the very thing, which seemed to have been made on purpose for them; and as they were tired with their long walk, they laid themselves down on a bank of moss among some birches and prepared to have a good night’s rest, so as to be fresh for work next day. But before she went to sleep the girl turned to her husband, and said: ‘If in your dreams you fancy that you hear strange noises, be sure you do not stir, or get up to see what it is.’‘Oh, it is not likely we shall hear any noises in such a quiet place,’ answered he, and fell sound asleep.Suddenly he was awakened by a great clatter about his ears, as if all the workmen in the world were sawing and hammering and building close to him. He was just going to spring up and go to see what it meant, when he luckily remembered his wife’s words and lay still. But the time till morning seemed very long, and with the first ray of sun they both rose, and pushed aside the branches of the birch trees. There, in the very place they had chosen, stood a beautiful house–doors and windows, and everything all complete!‘Now you must fix on a spot for your cow-stalls,’ said the girl, when they had breakfasted off wild cherries; ‘and take care it is the proper size, neither too large nor too small.’ And the husband did as he was bid, though he wondered what use a cow-house could be, as they had no cows to put in it. But as he was a little afraid of his wife, who knew so much more than he, he asked no questions.This night also he was awakened by the same sounds as before, and in the morning they found, near the stream, the most beautiful cow-house that ever was seen, with stalls and milk-pails and stools all complete, indeed, everything that a cow-house could possibly want, except the cows. Then the girl bade him measure out the ground for a storehouse, and this, she said, might be as large as he pleased; and when the storehouse was ready she proposed that they should set off to pay her parents a visit.The old people welcomed them heartily, and summoned their neighbours, for many miles round, to a great feast in their honour. In fact, for several weeks there was no work done on the farm at all; and at length the young man and his wife grew tired of so much play, and declared that they must return to their own home. But, before they started on the journey, the wife whispered to her husband: ‘Take care to jump over the threshold as quick as you can, or it will be the worse for you.’The young man listened to her words, and sprang over the threshold like an arrow from a bow; and it was well he did, for, no sooner was he on the other side, than his father-in-law threw a great hammer at him, which would have broken both his legs, if it had only touched them.When they had gone some distance on the road home, the girl turned to her husband and said: ‘Till you step inside the house, be sure you do not look back, whatever you may hear or see.’And the husband promised, and for a while all was still; and he thought no more about the matter till he noticed at last that the nearer he drew to the house the louder grew the noise of the trampling of feet behind him. As he laid his hand upon the door he thought he was safe, and turned to look. There, sure enough, was a vast herd of cattle, which had been sent after him by his father-in-law when he found that his daughter had been cleverer than he. Half of the herd were already through the fence and cropping the grass on the banks of the stream, but half still remained outside and faded into nothing, even as he watched them.However, enough cattle were left to make the young man rich, and he and his wife lived happily together, except that every now and then the girl vanished from his sight, and never told him where she had been. For a long time he kept silence about it; but one day, when he had been complaining of her absence, she said to him: ‘Dear husband, I am bound to go, even against my will, and there is only one way to stop me. Drive a nail into the threshold, and then I can never pass in or out.’And so he did.
Mio Strand is in the Province of Suruga. Its sand is yellow and fine, strewn with rose shells at the ebb tide. Its pine trees are ancient and they lean all one way, which is the way that the wild wind wills. Before Mio rolls the deep sea, and behind Mio rises Fugi, the most sacred, the mountain of mountains. Small marvel that the Strange People should come to Mio.Of the Strange People not much is known, even at Mio, though it is sure they come there. It seems they are shy indeed, more’s the pity. They come through the blue air, or across the mysterious paths of the sea. Their footprints are never, never seen upon the wet beach, for they tread too lightly. But sometimes in their dancing they sweep their robes upon the sand and leave it ribbed and ruffled; so, often enough, it may be seen at Mio.This is not all. Once a fisherman of Mio set eyes upon a maiden of the Strange People, and talked with her and made her do his bidding. This is a true thing, and thus it came about.The fisherman was out in his boat all night. He cast his net here and he cast his net there, but he caught nothing at all for his pains. It may be believed that he grew weary enough before the morning. In the cold of the dawn he brought his boat to shore and set foot on Mio Strand, shivering.Then, so he says, a warm wind met him and blew through his garments and his hair, so that he flushed and glowed. The very sand was full of comfort to his chilly feet. Upon the warm wind a fragrance was borne, cedar and vervain, and the scent of a hundred flowers.Flowers dropped softly through the air like bright rain. The fisherman stretched out his hands and caught them, lotus and jessamine and pomegranate. And all the while sweet music sounded.“This is never Mio Strand,” cried the fisherman, bewildered, “where I have pulled my boat ashore a thousand times or flown kites upon a holiday. Alack, I fear me I have sailed to the Fortunate Isles unawares, or come unwilling to the Sea King’s garden; or very like I am dead and never knew it, and this is Yomi. O Yomi, Land of Yomi, how like thou art to Mio Strand, my dear home!”After he had said this, the fisherman looked up the beach and down the beach, and he turned and saw Fuji, the mountain of mountains, and then he turned and saw the deep rolling sea and knew he was at Mio and no other place, and gave a long sigh.“Thanks be,” he said, and lifting his eyes he saw a robe of feathers hanging upon the branch of a pine tree. In the robe were feathers of all the birds that fly, every one; the kingfisher and the golden pheasant, the love bird, the swan, the crow, the cormorant, the dove, the bullfinch, the falcon, the plover, and the heron.“Ah, the pretty fluttering thing!” said the fisherman, and he took it from the pine tree where it hung.“Ah, the warm, sweet, fairy thing!” said the fisherman; “I’ll take it home for a treasure, sure no money could buy it, and I’ll show it to all the folk of the village.” And off he set for home with the fairy feathers over his arm.Now the maiden of the Strange People had been playing all this time with the White Children of the Foam that live in the salt sea. She looked up through the cold clear water and marked that her robe hung no longer on the pine-tree branch.“Alas, alas!” she cried, “my robe, my feather robe!” Swifter than any arrow she sprang from the water, and sped, fleet of foot, along the wet sand. The White Children of the Foam followed at her flashing heels. Clad in the cloak of her long hair, she came up with the fisherman.“Give me my feather robe,” she said, and held out her hand for it.“Why?” said the fisherman.“’Tis mine. I want it. I must have it.”“Oho,” said the fisherman, “finding’s keeping,” and he didn’t give her the feather robe.“I am a Fairy,” she said.“Farewell, Fairy,” said the fisherman.“A Moon Fairy,” she said.“Farewell, Moon Fairy,” said the fisherman, and he made to take his way along Mio Strand. At that she snatched at the feather robe, but the fisherman held fast. The feathers fluttered out and dropped upon the sand.“I wouldn’t do that,” said the fisherman. “You’ll have it all to pieces.”“I am a Moon Fairy, and at dawn I came to play upon fair Mio Strand; without my feathers I cannot go back to my place, my home in High Heaven. Therefore give me my feathers.”“No,” said the fisherman.“Oh, fisherman, fisherman, give me my robe.”“I couldn’t think of it,” said the fisherman.At this the maiden fell upon her knees and drooped like a lily in the heat of the day. With her arms she held the fisherman about the knees, and as she clung to him beseeching him, he felt her tears upon his bare feet.She wept and said:“I am a bird, a frail bird, A wounded bird with broken wings, I must die far from home, For the Five Woes are come upon me. The red flowers in my hair are faded; My robe is made unclean; Faintness comes upon me; I cannot see—farewell, dear sight of my eyes; I have lost joy. Oh, blessed flying clouds, and happy birds, And golden dust in the wind, And flying thoughts and flying prayers! I have lost all joy.”“Oh, stop,” said the fisherman, “you may have your robe.”“Give,” she cried.“Softly, softly,” said the fisherman. “Not so fast. I will give you your robe if you will dance for me here on Mio Strand.”“What must I dance?” she asked.“You must dance the mystic dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn round.”She said, “Give me my feathers and I will dance it. I cannot dance without my feathers.”“What if you cheat me, what if you break your promise and fly immediately to the moon and no dancing at all?”“Ah, fisherman,” she said, “the faith of a Fairy!”Then he gave her the robe.Now, when she had arrayed herself and flung back her hair, the Fairy began to dance upon the yellow sand. In and out of the feather robe crept her fairy feet. Slowly, softly, she went with folded wings and sang:“Oh, the gold and silver mountains of the Moon, And the sweet Singing Birds of Heaven! They sing in the branches of the cinnamon tree, To entertain the thirty kings that are there. Fifteen kings in white garments, To reign for fifteen days. Fifteen kings in black garments, To reign for fifteen days. I hear the music of Heaven; Away, away, I fly to Fairy Places.”At this the Fairy spread her rainbow-coloured wings, and the wind that they made fluttered the red flowers in her hair. Out streamed the robe of feathers bright and gay.The Fairy laughed. Her feet touched the waves of the sea; her feet touched the grass and the flowers inshore. They touched the high branches of the pines and then the white clouds.“Farewell, fisherman!” the Fairy cried, and he saw her no more.Long, long he stood gazing up into the sky. At length he stooped and picked up a little feather from the shore, a grey dove’s feather. He smoothed it out with his finger and hid it in his girdle.Then he went to his home.
Tommy Grimes was sometimes a good boy, and sometimes a bad boy; and when he was a bad boy, he was a very bad boy. Now his mother used to say to him: “Tommy, Tommy, be a good boy, and don’t go out of the street, or else Mr. Miacca will take you.” But still when he was a bad boy he would go out of the street; and one day, sure enough, he had scarcely got round the corner, when Mr. Miacca did catch him and popped him into a bag upside down, and took him off to his house.When Mr. Miacca got Tommy inside, he pulled him out of the bag and set him down, and felt his arms and legs. “You’re rather tough,” says he; “but you’re all I’ve got for supper, and you’ll not taste bad boiled. But body o’ me, I’ve forgot the herbs, and it’s bitter you’ll taste without herbs. Sally! Here, I say, Sally!” and he called Mrs. Miacca.So Mrs. Miacca came out of another room and said: “What d’ye want, my dear?”“Oh, here’s a little boy for supper,” said Mr. Miacca, “and I’ve forgot the herbs. Mind him, will ye, while I go for them.”“All right, my love,” says Mrs. Miacca, and off he goes.Then Tommy Grimes said to Mrs. Miacca: “Does Mr. Miacca always have little boys for supper?”“Mostly, my dear,” said Mrs. Miacca, “if little boys are bad enough, and get in his way.”“And don’t you have anything else but boy-meat? No pudding?” askedTommy.“Ah, I loves pudding,” says Mrs. Miacca. “But it’s not often the likes of me gets pudding.”“Why, my mother is making a pudding this very day,” said Tommy Grimes, “and I am sure she’d give you some, if I ask her. Shall I run and get some?”“Now, that’s a thoughtful boy,” said Mrs. Miacca, “only don’t be long and be sure to be back for supper.”So off Tommy pelters, and right glad he was to get off so cheap; and for many a long day he was as good as good could be, and never went round the corner of the street. But he couldn’t always be good; and one day he went round the corner, and as luck would have it, he hadn’t scarcely got round it when Mr. Miacca grabbed him up, popped him in his bag, and took him home.When he got him there, Mr. Miacca dropped him out; and when he saw him, he said: “Ah, you’re the youngster what served me and my missus that shabby trick, leaving us without any supper. Well, you shan’t do it again. I’ll watch over you myself. Here, get under the sofa, and I’ll set on it and watch the pot boil for you.”So poor Tommy Grimes had to creep under the sofa, and Mr. Miacca sat on it and waited for the pot to boil. And they waited, and they waited, but still the pot didn’t boil, till at last Mr. Miacca got tired of waiting, and he said: “Here, you under there, I’m not going to wait any longer; put out your leg, and I’ll stop your giving us the slip.”So Tommy put out a leg, and Mr. Miacca got a chopper, and chopped it off, and pops it in the pot.Suddenly he calls out: “Sally, my dear, Sally!” and nobody answered. So he went into the next room to look out for Mrs. Miacca, and while he was there, Tommy crept out from under the sofa and ran out of the door. For it was a leg of the sofa that he had put out.So Tommy Grimes ran home, and he never went round the corner again till he was old enough to go alone.
While Iduna’s friends were still crowding about her, all joyful and glad at getting her home again, they spied some one afar off, coming toward Asgard.As the figure drew nearer, they saw it was Skadi, the tall daughter of the frost giant Thiassi, who had chased Iduna; she was dressed all in white fur, and carried a shining hunting-spear and arrows. Slung over her shoulder were snowshoes and skates, for Skadi had come from her mountain home in the icy north. Very angry about the loss of her father, she had come to ask the Æsir why they had been so cruel to him.Father Odin spoke kindly to her, saying, “We will do honor to your father by putting his eyes in the sky, where they will always shine as two bright stars, and the people in Midgard will remember Thiassi whenever they look up at night and see the two twinkling lights. Besides this, we will also give you gold and silver.” But Skadi, thinking money could never repay her for the loss of her father, was still angry.{Note: Listen to this Norse Mythology tale plus other Asgard Stories audiobooks on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}Loki looked at her stern face, and he said to himself, “If we can only make Skadi laugh, she will be more ready to agree to the plan,” and he began to think of some way to amuse her. Taking a long cord he tied it to a goat; it was an invisible cord, which no one could see, and Loki himself held the other end of it. Then he began to dance and caper about, and the goat had to do just what Loki did. It really was such a funny sight, that all the gods shouted with laughter, and even poor, sorrowful Skadi had to smile.When the Æsir saw this, they proposed another plan: Skadi might choose one of the gods for her husband, but she must choose, from seeing only his bare feet. The giantess looked at them all, as they stood before her, and when she saw the bright face of Baldur, more beautiful than all the rest, she agreed to their plan, saying to herself, “It might be that I should choose him, and then I should surely be happy.”The gods then stood in a row behind a curtain, so that Skadi could see nothing but their bare feet. She looked carefully at them all, and at last chose the pair of feet which seemed to her the whitest, and of the finest shape, thinking those must be Baldur’s; but when the curtain was taken away, she was surprised and sorry to find she had chosen Niörd, the god of the seashore.The wedding took place at Asgard, and when the feasting was over, Skadi and Niörd went to dwell in his home by the sea. At first they were very happy, for Niörd was kind to his giant bride; but how could you expect one of the Æsir to live happily very long with a frost giantess for his wife?Skadi did not like the roar of the waves, and hated the cries of the sea-gulls and the murmur of gentle summer winds. She longed for her frozen home, far away in the north, amid ice and snow.And so they finally agreed that, for nine months of the year, Niörd should live with Skadi among her snowy mountains, where she found happiness in hunting over the white hills and valleys on her snowshoes, with her hunting dogs at her side, or skating on the ice-bound rivers and lakes. Then for the three short months of summer Skadi must live with Niörd in his palace by the sea, while he calmed the stormy ocean waves, and helped the busy fishermen to have good sailing for their boats.Niörd loved to wander along the shore, his jacket trimmed with a fringe of lovely seaweeds and his belt made of the prettiest shells on the beach, with the friendly little sandpipers running before him, and beautiful gulls and other sea birds sailing in the air above his head. Sometimes he loved to sit on the rocks by the shore, watching the seals play in the sunshine, or feeding the beautiful swans, his favorite birds.There is a kind of sponge, which the people in the north still call Niörd’s glove, in memory of this old Norse god.
A goat, a sheep, and porker fat,All to the market rode together.Their own amusement was not thatWhich caused their journey thither.Their coachman did not mean to “set them down”To see the shows and wonders of the town.The porker cried, in piercing squeals,As if with butchers at his heels.The other beasts, of milder mood,The cause by no means understood.They saw no harm, and wonder’d whyAt such a rate the hog should cry.“Hush there, old piggy!” said the man,“And keep as quiet as you can.What wrong have you to squeal about,And raise this dev’lish, deaf’ning shout?These stiller persons at your sideHave manners much more dignified.Pray, have you heardA single wordCome from that gentleman in wool?That proves him wise.” “That proves him fool!”The testy hog replied;“For did he knowTo what we go,He’d cry almost to split his throat;So would her ladyship the goat.They only think to lose with ease,The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece:They’re, maybe, right; but as for meThis ride is quite another matter.Of service only on the platter,My death is quite a certainty.Adieu, my dear old piggery!”The porker’s logic proved at onceHimself a prophet and a dunce.Hope ever gives a present ease,But fear beforehand kills:The wisest he who least foreseesInevitable ills.
Long before the time of Fu Hi, Dschu Yung, the Magic Welder, was the ruler of men. He discovered the use of fire, and succeeding generations learned from him to cook their food. Hence his descendants were intrusted with the preservation of fire, while he himself was made the Fire-God. He is a personification of the Red Lord, who showed himself at the beginning of the world as one of the Five Ancients. The Fire-God is worshiped as the Lord of the Holy Southern Mountain. In the skies the Fiery Star, the southern quarter of the heavens and the Red Bird belong to his domain. When there is danger of fire the Fiery Star glows with a peculiar radiance. When countless numbers of fire-crows fly into a house, a fire is sure to break out in it.In the land of the four rivers there dwelt a man who was very rich. One day he got into his wagon and set out on a long journey. And he met a girl, dressed in red, who begged him to take her with him. He allowed her to get into the wagon, and drove along for half-a-day without even looking in her direction. Then the girl got out again and said in farewell: “You are truly a good and honest man, and for that reason I must tell you the truth. I am the Fire-God. To-morrow a fire will break out in your house. Hurry home at once to arrange your affairs and save what you can!” Frightened, the man faced his horses about and drove home as fast as he could. All that he possessed in the way of treasures, clothes and jewels, he removed from the house. And, when he was about to lie down to sleep, a fire broke out on the hearth which could not be quenched until the whole building had collapsed in dust and ashes. Yet, thanks to the Fire-God, the man had saved all his movable belongings.Note: “The Fire-God” (comp. with No. 15). The Holy Southern Mountain is Sung-Schan in Huan. The Fiery Star is Mars. The constellations of the southern quarter of the heavens are grouped by the Chinese as under the name of the “Red Bird.” The “land of the four rivers” is Setchuan, in the western part of present-day China.
Once upon a time there lived a princess who was so beautiful and so good that everybody loved her. Her father could hardly bear her out of his sight, and he almost died of grief when, one day, she disappeared, and though the whole kingdom was searched through and through, she could not be found in any corner of it. In despair, the king ordered a proclamation to be made that whoever could bring her back to the palace should have her for his wife. This made the young men start afresh on the search, but they were no more successful than before, and returned sorrowfully to their homes.Now there dwelt, not far from the palace, an old man who had three sons. The two eldest were allowed by their parents to do just as they liked, but the youngest was always obliged to give way to his brothers. When they were all grown up, the eldest told his father that he was tired of leading such a quiet life, and that he meant to go away and see the world.The old people were very unhappy at the thought that they must part with him, but they said nothing, and began to collect all that he would want for his travels, and were careful to add a pair of new boots. When everything was ready, he bade them farewell, and started merrily on his way.For some miles his road lay through a wood, and when he left it he suddenly came out on a bare hillside. Here he sat down to rest, and pulling out his wallet prepared to eat his dinner.He had only eaten a few mouthfuls when an old man badly dressed passed by, and seeing the food, asked if the young man could not spare him a little.‘Not I, indeed!’ answered he; ‘why I have scarcely enough for myself. If you want food you must earn it.’ And the beggar went on.After the young man had finished his dinner he rose and walked on for several hours, till he reached a second hill, where he threw himself down on the grass, and took some bread and milk from his wallet. While he was eating and drinking, there came by an old man, yet more wretched than the first, and begged for a few mouthfuls. But instead of food he only got hard words, and limped sadly away.Towards evening the young man reached an open space in the wood, and by this time he thought he would like some supper. The birds saw the food, and flew round his head in numbers hoping for some crumbs, but he threw stones at them, and frightened them off. Then he began to wonder where he should sleep. Not in the open space he was in, for that was bare and cold, and though he had walked a long way that day, and was tired, he dragged himself up, and went on seeking for a shelter.At length he saw a deep sort of hole or cave under a great rock, and as it seemed quite empty, he went in, and lay down in a corner. About midnight he was awakened by a noise, and peeping out he beheld a terrible ogress approaching. He implored her not to hurt him, but to let him stay there for the rest of the night, to which she consented, on condition that he should spend the next day in doing any task which she might choose to set him. To this the young man willingly agreed, and turned over and went to sleep again. In the morning, the ogress bade him sweep the dust out of the cave, and to have it clean before her return in the evening, otherwise it would be the worse for him. Then she left the cave.The young man took the spade, and began to clean the floor of the cave, but try as he would to move it the dirt still stuck to its place. He soon gave up the task, and sat sulkily in the corner, wondering what punishment the ogress would find for him, and why she had set him to do such an impossible thing.He had not long to wait, after the ogress came home, before he knew what his punishment was to be! She just gave one look at the floor of the cave, then dealt him a blow on the head which cracked his skull, and there was an end of him.Meanwhile his next brother grew tired of staying at home, and let his parents have no rest till they had consented that he also should be given some food and some new boots, and go out to see the world. On his road, he also met the two old beggars, who prayed for a little of his bread and milk, but this young man had never been taught to help other people, and had made it a rule through his life to keep all he had to himself. So he turned a deaf ear and finished his dinner.By-and-by he, too, came to the cave, and was bidden by the ogress to clean the floor, but he was no more successful than his brother, and his fate was the same.Anyone would have thought that when the old people had only one son left that at least they would have been kind to him, even if they did not love him. But for some reason they could hardly bear the sight of him, though he tried much harder to make them comfortable than his brothers had ever done. So when he asked their leave to go out into the world they gave it at once, and seemed quite glad to be rid of him. They felt it was quite generous of them to provide him with a pair of new boots and some bread and milk for his journey.Besides the pleasure of seeing the world, the youth was very anxious to discover what had become of his brothers, and he determined to trace, as far as he could, the way that they must have gone. He followed the road that led from his father’s cottage to the hill, where he sat down to rest, saying to himself: ‘I am sure my brothers must have stopped here, and I will do the same.’He was hungry as well as tired, and took out some of the food his parents had given him. He was just going to begin to eat when the old man appeared, and asked if he could not spare him a little. The young man at once broke off some of the bread, begging the old man to sit down beside him, and treating him as if he was an old friend. At last the stranger rose, and said to him: ‘If ever you are in trouble call me, and I will help you. My name is Tritill.’ Then he vanished, and the young man could not tell where he had gone.However, he felt he had now rested long enough, and that he had better be going his way. At the next hill he met with the second old man, and to him also he gave food and drink. And when this old man had finished he said, like the first: ‘If you ever want help in the smallest thing call to me. My name is Litill.’The young man walked on till he reached the open space in the wood, where he stopped for dinner. In a moment all the birds in the world seemed flying round his head, and he crumbled some of his bread for them and watched them as they darted down to pick it up. When they had cleared off every crumb the largest bird with the gayest plumage said to him: ‘If you are in trouble and need help say, “My birds, come to me!” and we will come.’ Then they flew away.Towards evening the young man reached the cave where his brothers had met their deaths, and, like them, he thought it would be a good place to sleep in. Looking round, he saw some pieces of the dead men’s clothes and of their bones. The sight made him shiver, but he would not move away, and resolved to await the return of the ogress, for such he knew she must be.Very soon she came striding in, and he asked politely if she would give him a night’s lodging. She answered as before, that he might stay on condition that he should do any work that she might set him to next morning. So the bargain being concluded, the young man curled himself up in his corner and went to sleep.The dirt lay thicker than ever on the floor of the cave when the young man took the spade and began his work. He could not clear it any more than his brothers had done, and at last the spade itself stuck in the earth so that he could not pull it out. The youth stared at it in despair, then the old beggar’s words flashed into his mind, and he cried: ‘Tritill, Tritill, come and help me!’And Tritill stood beside him and asked what he wanted. The youth told him all his story, and when he had finished, the old man said: ‘Spade and shovel do your duty,’ and they danced about the cave till, in a short time, there was not a speck of dust left on the floor. As soon as it was quite clean Tritill went his way.With a light heart the young man awaited the return of the ogress. When she came in she looked carefully round, and then said to him: ‘You did not do that quite alone. However, as the floor is clean I will leave your head on.’The following morning the ogress told the young man that he must take all the feathers out of her pillows and spread them to dry in the sun. But if one feather was missing when she came back at night his head should pay for it.’The young man fetched the pillows, and shook out all the feathers, and oh! what quantities of them there were! He was thinking to himself, as he spread them out carefully, how lucky it was that the sun was so bright and that there was no wind, when suddenly a breeze sprang up, and in a moment the feathers were dancing high in the air. At first the youth tried to collect them again, but he soon found that it was no use, and he cried in despair: ‘Tritill, Litill, and all my birds, come and help me!’He had hardly said the words when there they all were; and when the birds had brought all the feathers back again, Tritill, and Litill, and he, put them away in the pillows, as the ogress had bidden him. But one little feather they kept out, and told the young man that if the ogress missed it he was to thrust it up her nose. Then they all vanished, Tritill, Litill, and the birds.Directly the ogress returned home she flung herself with all her weight on the bed, and the whole cave quivered under her. The pillows were soft and full instead of being empty, which surprised her, but that did not content her. She got up, shook out the pillow-cases one by one, and began to count the feathers that were in each. ‘If one is missing I will have your head,’ said she, and at that the young man drew the feather from his pocket and thrust it up her nose, crying ‘If you want your feather, here it is.’‘You did not sort those feathers alone,’ answered the ogress calmly; ‘however, this time I will let that pass.’That night the young man slept soundly in his corner, and in the morning the ogress told him that his work that day would be to slay one of her great oxen, to cook its heart, and to make drinking cups of its horns, before she returned home ‘There are fifty oxen,’ added she, ‘and you must guess which of the herd I want killed. If you guess right, to-morrow you shall be free to go where you will, and you shall choose besides three things as a reward for your service. But if you slay the wrong ox your head shall pay for it.’Left alone, the young man stood thinking for a little. Then he called: ‘Tritill, Litill, come to my help!’In a moment he saw them, far away, driving the biggest ox the youth had ever seen. When they drew near, Tritill killed it, Litill took out its heart for the young man to cook, and both began quickly to turn the horns into drinking cups. The work went merrily on, and they talked gaily, and the young man told his friends of the payment promised him by the ogress if he had done her bidding. The old men warned him that he must ask her for the chest which stood at the foot of her bed, for whatever lay on the top of the bed, and for what lay under the side of the cave. The young man thanked them for their counsel, and Tritill and Litill then took leave of him, saying that for the present he would need them no more.Scarcely had they disappeared when the ogress came back, and found everything ready just as she had ordered. Before she sat down to eat the bullock’s heart she turned to the young man, and said: ‘You did not do that all alone, my friend; but, nevertheless, I will keep my word, and to-morrow you shall go your way.’ So they went to bed and slept till dawn.When the sun rose the ogress awoke the young man, and called to him to choose any three things out of her house.‘I choose,’ answered he, ‘the chest which stands at the foot of your bed; whatever lies on the top of the bed, and whatever is under the side of the cave.’‘You did not choose those things by yourself, my friend,’ said the ogress; ‘but what I have promised, that will I do.’And then she gave him his reward.‘The thing which lay on the top of the bed’ turned out to be the lost princess. ‘The chest which stood at the foot of the bed’ proved full of gold and precious stones; and ‘what was under the side of the cave’ he found to be a great ship, with oars and sails that went of itself as well on land as in the water. ‘You are the luckiest man that ever was born,’ said the ogress as she went out of the cave as usual.With much difficulty the youth put the heavy chest on his shoulders and carried it on board the ship, the princess walking by his side. Then he took the helm and steered the vessel back to her father’s kingdom. The king’s joy at receiving back his lost daughter was so great that he almost fainted, but when he recovered himself he made the young man tell him how everything had really happened. ‘You have found her, and you shall marry her,’ said the king; and so it was done. And this is the end of the story.
When Adam and Eve were driven out of Paradise, they were compelled to build a house for themselves on unfruitful ground, and eat their bread in the sweat of their brow. Adam dug up the land, and Eve span. Every year Eve brought a child into the world; but the children were unlike each other, some pretty, and some ugly. After a considerable time had gone by, God sent an angel to them, to announce that he was coming to inspect their household. Eve, delighted that the Lord should be so gracious, cleaned her house diligently, decked it with flowers, and strewed reeds on the floor. Then she brought in her children, but only the beautiful ones. She washed and bathed them, combed their hair, put clean raiment on them, and cautioned them to conduct themselves decorously and modestly in the presence of the Lord. They were to bow down before him civilly, hold out their hands, and to answer his questions modestly and sensibly. The ugly children were, however, not to let themselves be seen. One hid himself beneath the hay, another under the roof, a third in the straw, the fourth in the stove, the fifth in the cellar, the sixth under a tub, the seventh beneath the wine-cask, the eighth under an old fur cloak, the ninth and tenth beneath the cloth out of which she always made their clothes, and the eleventh and twelfth under the leather out of which she cut their shoes. She had scarcely got ready, before there was a knock at the house-door. Adam looked through a chink, and saw that it was the Lord. Adam opened the door respectfully, and the Heavenly Father entered. There, in a row, stood the pretty children, and bowed before him, held out their hands, and knelt down. The Lord, however, began to bless them, laid his hands on the first, and said, “Thou shalt be a powerful king;” and to the second, “Thou a prince,” to the third, “Thou a count,” to the fourth, “Thou a knight,” to the fifth, “Thou a nobleman,” to the sixth, “Thou a burgher,” to the seventh, “Thou a merchant,” to the eighth, “Thou a learned man.” He bestowed upon them also all his richest blessings. When Eve saw that the Lord was so mild and gracious, she thought, “I will bring hither my ill-favoured children also, it may be that he will bestow his blessing on them likewise.” So she ran and brought them out of the hay, the straw, the stove, and wherever else she had concealed them. Then came the whole coarse, dirty, shabby, sooty band. The Lord smiled, looked at them all, and said, “I will bless these also.” He laid his hands on the first, and said to him, “Thou shalt be a peasant,” to the second, “Thou a fisherman,” to the third, “Thou a smith,” to the fourth, “Thou a tanner,” to the fifth, “Thou a weaver,” to the sixth, Thou a shoemaker,” to the seventh, “Thou a tailor,” to the eighth, “Thou a potter,” to the ninth, “Thou a waggoner,” to the tenth, “Thou a sailor,” to the eleventh, “Thou an errand-boy,” to the twelfth, “Thou a scullion all the days of thy life.”When Eve had heard all this she said, “Lord, how unequally thou dividest thy gifts! After all they are all of them my children, whom I have brought into the world, thy favours should be given to all alike.” But God answered, “Eve, thou dost not understand. It is right and necessary that the entire world should be supplied from thy children; if they were all princes and lords, who would grow corn, thresh it, grind and bake it? Who would be blacksmiths, weavers, carpenters, masons, labourers, tailors and seamstresses? Each shall have his own place, so that one shall support the other, and all shall be fed like the limbs of one body.” Then Eve answered, “Ah, Lord, forgive me, I was too quick in speaking to thee. Have thy divine will with my children.”
Two thieves, pursuing their profession,Had of a donkey got possession,Whereon a strife arose,Which went from words to blows.The question was, to sell, or not to sell;But while our sturdy champions fought it well,Another thief, who chanced to pass,With ready wit rode off the ass.This ass is, by interpretation,Some province poor, or prostrate nation.The thieves are princes this and that,On spoils and plunder prone to fat,—As those of Austria, Turkey, Hungary.(Instead of two, I’ve quoted three—Enough of such commodity.)These powers engaged in war all,Some fourth thief stops the quarrel,According all to one key,By riding off the donkey
The lion had an enterprise in hand;Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal,And gave the animals a call impartial—Each, in his way, to serve his high command.The elephant should carry on his backThe tools of war, the mighty public pack,And fight in elephantine way and form;The bear should hold himself prepared to storm;The fox all secret stratagems should fix;The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks.“Dismiss,” said one, “the blockhead asses,And hares, too cowardly and fleet.”“No,” said the king; “I use all classes;Without their aid my force were incomplete.The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scareOur enemy. And then the nimble hareOur royal bulletins shall homeward bear.”A monarch provident and wiseWill hold his subjects all of consequence,And know in each what talent lies.There’s nothing useless to a man of sense.
The skeleton of a man wearing a breastplate of brass, a belt made of tubes of the same metal, and lying near some copper arrow-heads, was exhumed at Fall River, Massachusetts, in 1834. The body had been artificially embalmed or else preserved by salts in the soil. His arms and armor suggest Phoenician origin, but the skeleton is thought to be that of a Dane or Norwegian who spent the last winter of his life at Newport. He may have helped to carve the rock at West Newbury, or the better-known Dighton rock at Taunton River that is covered with inscriptions which the tides and frosts are fast effacing, and which have been construed into a record of Norse exploration and discovery, though some will have it that the inevitable Captain Kidd cut the figures there to tell of buried treasure. The Indians have a legend of the arrival of white men in a “bird,” undoubtedly a ship, from which issued thunder and lightning. A battle ensued when the visitors landed, and the white men wrote the story of it on the rock. Certain scholars of the eighteenth century declared that the rock bore an account of the arrival of Phoenician sailors, blown across the Atlantic and unable or unwilling to return. A representation of the pillars of Hercules was thought to be included among the sculptures, showing that the castaways were familiar with the Mediterranean. Only this is known about Dighton Rock, however: that it stood where it does, and as it does, when the English settled in this neighborhood. The Indians said there were other rocks near it which bore similar markings until effaced by tides and drifting ice.Longfellow makes the wraith of the long-buried exile of the armor appear and tell his story: He was a viking who loved the daughter of King Hildebrand, and as royal consent to their union was withheld he made off with the girl, hotly followed by the king and seventy horsemen. The viking reached his vessel first, and hoisting sail continued his flight over the sea, but the chase was soon upon him, and, having no alternative but to fight or be taken, he swung around before the wind and rammed the side of Hildebrand’s galley, crushing in its timbers. The vessel tipped and sank, and every soul on board went with her, while the viking’s boat kept on her course, and after a voyage of three weeks put in at Narragansett Bay. The round tower at Newport this impetuous lover built as a bower for his lady, and there he guarded her from the dangers that beset those who are first in savage countries. When the princess died she was buried in the tower, and the lonely viking, arraying himself in his armor, fell on his spear, like Brutus, and expired.
Jupiter granted beards to the She-Goats at their own request, much to the disgust of the he-Goats, who considered this to be an unwarrantable invasion of their rights and dignities. So they sent a deputation to him to protest against his action. He, however, advised them not to raise any objections. “What’s in a tuft of hair?” said he. “Let them have it if they want it. They can never be a match for you in strength.”
Once upon a time, there was a mighty baron in the North Countrie who was a great magician that knew everything that would come to pass. So one day, when his little boy was four years old, he looked into the Book of Fate to see what would happen to him. And to his dismay, he found that his son would wed a lowly maid that had just been born in a house under the shadow of York Minster. Now the Baron knew the father of the little girl was very, very poor, and he had five children already. So he called for his horse, and rode into York; and passed by the father’s house, and saw him sitting by the door, sad and doleful. So he dismounted and went up to him and said: “What is the matter, my good man?” And the man said: “Well, your honour, the fact is, I’ve five children already, and now a sixth’s come, a little lass, and where to get the bread from to fill their mouths, that’s more than I can say.”“Don’t be downhearted, my man,” said the Baron. “If that’s your trouble, I can help you. I’ll take away the last little one, and you wont have to bother about her.”“Thank you kindly, sir,” said the man; and he went in and brought out the lass and gave her to the Baron, who mounted his horse and rode away with her. And when he got by the bank of the river Ouse, he threw the little, thing into the river, and rode off to his castle.But the little lass didn’t sink; her clothes kept her up for a time, and she floated, and she floated, till she was cast ashore just in front of a fisherman’s hut. There the fisherman found her, and took pity on the poor little thing and took her into his house, and she lived there till she was fifteen years old, and a fine handsome girl.One day it happened that the Baron went out hunting with some companions along the banks of the River Ouse, and stopped at the fisherman’s hut to get a drink, and the girl came out to give it to them. They all noticed her beauty, and one of them said to the Baron: “You can read fates, Baron, whom will she marry, d’ye think?”“Oh! that’s easy to guess,” said the Baron; “some yokel or other. But I’ll cast her horoscope. Come here girl, and tell me on what day you were born?”“I don’t know, sir,” said the girl, “I was picked up just here after having been brought down by the river about fifteen years ago.”Then the Baron knew who she was, and when they went away, he rode back and said to the girl: “Hark ye, girl, I will make your fortune. Take this letter to my brother in Scarborough, and you will be settled for life.” And the girl took the letter and said she would go. Now this was what he had written in the letter:“Dear Brother,—Take the bearer and put her to death immediately.“Yours affectionately,So soon after the girl set out for Scarborough, and slept for the night at a little inn. Now that very night a band of robbers broke into the inn, and searched the girl, who had no money, and only the letter. So they opened this and read it, and thought it a shame. The captain of the robbers took a pen and paper and wrote this letter:“Dear Brother,—Take the bearer and marry her to my son immediately.“Yours affectionately,And then he gave it to the girl, bidding her begone. So she went on to the Baron’s brother at Scarborough, a noble knight, with whom the Baron’s son was staying. When she gave the letter to his brother, he gave orders for the wedding to be prepared at once, and they were married that very day.Soon after, the Baron himself came to his brother’s castle, and what was his surprise to find that the very thing he had plotted against had come to pass. But he was not to be put off that way; and he took out the girl for a walk, as he said, along the cliffs. And when he got her all alone, he took her by the arms, and was going to throw her over. But she begged hard for her life. “I have not done anything,” she said: “if you will only spare me, I will do whatever you wish. I will never see you or your son again till you desire it.” Then the Baron took off his gold ring and threw it into the sea, saying: “Never let me see your face till you can show me that ring;” and he let her go.The poor girl wandered on and on, till at last she came to a great noble’s castle, and she asked to have some work given to her; and they made her the scullion girl of the castle, for she had been used to such work in the fisherman’s hut.Now one day, who should she see coming up to the noble’s house but the Baron and his brother and his son, her husband. She didn’t know what to do; but thought they would not see her in the castle kitchen. So she went back to her work with a sigh, and set to cleaning a huge big fish that was to be boiled for their dinner. And, as she was cleaning it, she saw something shine inside it, and what do you think she found? Why, there was the Baron’s ring, the very one he had thrown over the cliff at Scarborough. She was right glad to see it, you may be sure. Then she cooked the fish as nicely as she could, and served it up.Well, when the fish came on the table, the guests liked it so well that they asked the noble who cooked it. He said he didn’t know, but called to his servants: “Ho, there, send up the cook that cooked that fine fish.” So they went down to the kitchen and told the girl she was wanted in the hall. Then she washed and tidied herself and put the Baron’s gold ring on her thumb and went up into the hall.When the banqueters saw such a young and beautiful cook they were surprised. But the Baron was in a tower of a temper, and started up as if he would do her some violence. So the girl went up to him with her hand before her with the ring on it; and she put it down before him on the table. Then at last the Baron saw that no one could fight against Fate, and he handed her to a seat and announced to all the company that this was his son’s true wife; and he took her and his son home to his castle; and they all lived as happy as could be ever afterwards.
In a certain village lived a peasant named Ivan, and his wife Mary. They were very fond of each other, and had lived happily together for many years, but unfortunately they had no children. The poor people were sad on that account. Their hearts, however, were gladdened at the sight of their neighbours’ children. What could be done? It was evidently the will of Heaven; and in this world, Heaven’s will be done!One day, in winter, after a great quantity of snow had fallen on the ground, the children of the village where Ivan and Mary lived ran into the fields to play. The old couple looked at them from the window. The children ran about, played all sorts of frolics together, and at last began to make a snow-man. Ivan and Mary sat down quietly watching them. Suddenly Ivan smiled and said,—“I say, wife, let us go out and make a snow-man too.”Mary was also in a merry mood.“Yes,” she answered; “let us go out and play, though we are old. But why should we make a snow-man? Better to make a snow-child, since Heaven will not grant us a live one.”“Very good,” said Ivan.He put on his cap, and went with his wife into the garden.They really set about making a baby of snow. They made the body; then arms and legs; then put on the top a ball of snow for a head.“Heaven help you!” cried one who passed by,“Many thanks,” replied Ivan.“Heaven’s help is always acceptable,” added Mary.“What are you doing?” continuued the stranger.“What you yourself see,” answered Ivan.“We are making a Snyegurka!” cried Mary, laughing.Then they made a little nose and a chin, two little holes for eyes, and as soon as Ivan had finished—oh, wonderful!—a sweet breath came out of its mouth! Ivan lifted up his arms and stared. The little holes were no longer holes; in their place were two bright blue eyes, and the tiny lips smiled lovingly upon him.“Mercy on us! What is this?” cried Ivan, devoutly crossing himself.The snow-child turned its head towards him—it was really alive! It moved its arms and legs inside the snow, like an infant in swaddling clothes.“Oh, Ivan,” cried Mary, trembling with joy, “Heaven has at last given us a baby!” and she seized the child in her arms.The snow fell off “Snyegurka,” as Mary called her, like the shell from a chicken. Mary, delighted beyond measure, held in her arms a beautiful, living girl.“Oh, my love! my love! My darling Snyegurka!” cried the kind-hearted woman, tenderly embracing her long-wished for, and now unexpectedly granted child. Then she rushed into the hut with the infant in her arms. Ivan was astounded at this wonderful event; as to Mary, she was beside herself with joy.Snyegurka grew every hour; each day she looked more beautiful than before. Ivan and Mary were delighted with her, and their hut, once so quiet and lonely, was now full of life and merriment. The girls of the village visited them constantly; dressed and played with Snyegurka as if she were a doll; talked to to her; sang songs to her; joined her with them in all their games, and taught her all they knew themselves. Snyegurka was very clever, and quickly learnt everything she was told. During the winter she grew up as tall as a girl of thirteen years old; she understood and could talk about most things around her, and had such a sweet voice that one would never tire of listening to it. Besides this, she was kind, obedient, and affectionate. Her flesh was as white as snow; her eyes looked like two forget-me-nots; and her hair was of a light flaxen colour. Her cheeks only had no rosy hue in them, because there was no blood in her veins. In spite of this she was so beautiful, that, having once seen her, you would wish to see her again and again. It would have done your heart good to see how she enjoyed herself, and how happy she was when at play. Everybody loved her; she was idolised by Mary, who would often say to her husband, “Heaven has granted us joy in our old age; sorrow has left my heart!”Ivan would answer, “Heaven be praised! But in this world happiness is seldom lasting, and sorrow is good for us all.”The long winter had gradually glided away. The glorious sun again shone in the sky, and warmed the cold earth. Where the snow melted, green grass appeared, and the skylark poured forth its sweet notes. The girls of the village collected together, and welcomed the spring with a song:—“Beautiful Spring! How did you come to us? How did you make your journey? On a plough or on a harrow?”From a gay, sprightly girl, Snyegurka suddenly became sad.“What is the matter with you, my dearest child?” Mary would often ask, drawing Snyegurka nearer to her heart. “Are you ill? You are not so happy as you used to be. Perhaps an evil eye has glanced at you?”Snyegurka would simply answer, “I am well; mother.”The snow had now completely melted away, and the genial spring appeared with its warm and sunny days. The meadows and gardens began to be covered with radiant and sweet-scented flowers. The nightingale and other songsters of the woods and fields resumed their beautiful melodies. In a word, all nature became brighter and more charming.Snyegurka alone grew sadder and sadder. She began to shun her playfellows, and to hide herself from the rays of the sun like the May-flower under the tree. She would only play near a well of spring water—splashing and dabbling in it with her hand—beneath the shade of a green willow. She grew daily fonder of the shade, the cool air, and the rain shower. During rain, and in the evening, she would become more gay. When the sky became overcast with dark clouds, and a thick shower of hail came pouring down, Snyegurka was as pleased as any other girl would have been at the sight of a pearl necklace. When the hail melted and disappeared beneath the warm rays of the sun, Snyegurka cried bitterly, as if she herself would melt into tears; as an affectionate sister might weep over a lost brother.The spring now ended, the summer came, and the Feast of St. John was close at hand. All the girls from the village went into the wood to play. Several of them came to the hut, and asked Mistress Mary to allow Snyegurka to go with them. Mary was at first afraid to let Snyegurka go, and the girl herself did not care about it, but they could not very well refuse the invitation. Then Mary thought it would perhaps amuse Snyegurka. She therefore kissed her tenderly, saying,—“Go, my dear child; go and enjoy yourself. And you, my good girls, take care of my Snyegurka. You know she is as dear to me as my very sight.”“All right! we’ll take care!” cried the girls; and they caught hold of Snyegurka by the arms, and ran away together to the forest.There they made garlands and bouquets of flowers, and sang songs, while Snyegurka took part in their play.After sunset the girls piled up a small heap of dry grass and brushwood, lighted it, and, with garlands on their heads, stood in a line, one close upon the other. They put Snyegurka at the end, and said, “When you see us running, you run after us.” Then they began to sing, and to jump over the fire.Suddenly they heard a painful cry. They turned round quickly, but could see nothing. Greatly surprised, they looked at each other, and then noticed that Snyegurka was missing. “Oh, the mischievous puss!” cried the girls; “she has hidden herself.”They ran in every direction in search of her, but all in vain. They called her by her name, “Snyegurka!” but there was no answer.“Perhaps she has gone home,” cried some of the girls. They all ran back to the village—Snyegurka was not there!They searched for her the whole night, the following, and the third day; they examined the forest,—every tree, every bush; but all to no purpose, Snyegurka was gone!Old Ivan and Mary were almost broken-hearted at the loss of their beloved Snyegurka. Every day Mary went to the forest to look for her lost child. Poor woman! like a tender mother full of grief and yearning for her young one, she cried aloud,—“Ah, me! my Snyegurka! Ah, me! my darling dove! Where art thou?”She often fancied she could hear her dear Snyegurka’s painful cry when she disappeared. Alas! alas! Snyegurka was nowhere to be found.Where had Snyegurka gone? Had some wild beast seized and dragged her into his lair? or a bird of prey carried her across the dark blue sea to its nest? No; neither bird nor beast had carried the girl away. When Snyegurka, following her companions, sprang over the fire, she melted away and changed in an instant into a beautiful white cloud, rose up, and disappeared in the sky for ever!
In a nursery where a number of toys lay scattered about, a money box stood on the top of a very high wardrobe. It was made of clay in the shape of a pig and had been bought of the potter. In the back of the pig was a slit, and this slit had been enlarged with a knife so that dollars, or even crown pieces, might slip through—and indeed there were two in the box, besides a number of pence. The money-pig was stuffed so full that it could no longer rattle, which is the highest state of perfectness to which a money-pig can attain.There he stood upon the cupboard, high and lofty, looking down upon everything else in the room. He knew very well that he had enough inside himself to buy up all the other toys, and this gave him a very good opinion of his own value.The rest thought of this fact also, although they did not express it, there were so many other things to talk about. A large doll, still handsome (though rather old, for her neck had been mended) lay inside one of the drawers, which was partly open. She called out to the others, “Let us have a game at being men and women; that is something worth playing at.”Upon this there was a great uproar; even the engravings which hung in frames on the wall turned round in their excitement and showed that they had a wrong side to them, although they had not the least intention of exposing themselves in this way or of objecting to the game.It was late at night, but as the moon shone through the windows, they had light at a cheap rate. And as the game was now to begin, all were invited to take part in it, even the children’s wagon, which certainly belonged among the coarser playthings. “Each has its own value,” said the wagon; “we cannot all be noblemen; there must be some to do the work.”The money-pig was the only one who received a written invitation. He stood so high that they were afraid he would not accept a verbal message. But in his reply he said if he had to take a part he must enjoy the sport from his own home; they were to arrange for him to do so. And so they did.The little toy theater was therefore put up in such a way that the money-pig could look directly into it. Some wanted to begin with a comedy and afterwards to have a tea party and a discussion for mental improvement, but they began with the latter first.The rocking-horse spoke of training and races; the wagon, of railways and steam power—for these subjects belonged to each of their professions, and it was right they should talk of them. The clock talked politics—”Tick, tick.” He professed to know what was the time of the day, but there was a whisper that he did not go correctly. The bamboo cane stood by, looking stiff and proud (he was vain of his brass ferrule and silver top), and on the sofa lay two worked cushions, pretty but stupid.When the play at the little theater began, the rest sat and looked on; they were requested to applaud and stamp, or crack, whenever they felt gratified with what they saw. The riding whip said he never cracked for old people, only for the young—those who were not yet married. “I crack for everybody,” said the nutcracker.“Yes, and a fine noise you make,” thought the audience as the play went on.It was not worth much, but it was very well played, and all the actors turned their painted sides to the audience, for they were made to be seen only on one side. The acting was wonderful, excepting that sometimes the actors came out beyond the lamps, because the wires were a little too long.The doll whose neck had been mended was so excited that the place in her neck burst, and the money-pig declared he must do something for one of the players as they had all pleased him so much. So he made up his mind to mention one of them in his will as the one to be buried with him in the family vault, whenever that event should happen.They enjoyed the comedy so much that they gave up all thoughts of the tea party and only carried out their idea of intellectual amusement, which they called playing at men and women. And there was nothing wrong about it, for it was only play. All the while each one thought most of himself or of what the money-pig could be thinking. The money-pig’s thoughts were on (as he supposed) a very far-distant time—of making his will, and of his burial, and of when it might all come to pass.Certainly sooner than he expected; for all at once down he came from the top of the press, fell on the floor, and was broken to pieces. Then all the pennies hopped and danced about in the most amusing manner. The little ones twirled round like tops, and the large ones rolled away as far as they could, especially the one great silver crown piece, who had often wanted to go out into the world. And he had his wish as well as all the rest of the money. The pieces of the money-pig were thrown into the dustbin, and the next day there stood a new money-pig on the cupboard, but it had not a farthing inside it yet, and therefore, like the old one, could not rattle.This was the beginning with him, and with us it shall be the end of our story.
In a lonely forest, there once lived a man and his wife, who had a son. The father went forth every day, according to the custom of the Indians, to hunt for food to supply his family.One day, while he was absent, his wife, on going out of the lodge, looked toward the lake that was near, and she saw a very large man walking on the water, and coming fast toward the lodge. He was already so near that she could not, if she had wished to, escape by flight. She thought to herself, “What shall I say to the monster?”As he advanced rapidly, she ran in, and taking the hand of her son, a boy of three or four years old, she led him out. Speaking very loud, “See, my son,” she said, “your grandfather;” and then added, in a tone of appeal and supplication, “he will have pity on us.”The giant approached and said, with a loud ha! ha! “Yes, my son;” and added, addressing the woman, “Have you any thing to eat?”By good luck the lodge was well supplied with meats of various kinds; the woman thought to please him by handing him these, which were savory and carefully prepared. But he pushed them away in disgust, saying, “I smell fire;” and, not waiting to be invited, he seized upon the carcass of a deer which lay by the door, and dispatched it almost without stopping to take breath.When the hunter came home he was surprised to see the monster, he was so very frightful. He had again brought a deer, which he had no sooner put down than the cannibal seized it, tore it in pieces, and devoured it as though he had been fasting for a week. The hunter looked on in fear and astonishment, and in a whisper he told his wife that he was afraid for their lives, as this monster was one whom Indians call Weendigoes. He did not even dare to speak to him, nor did the cannibal say a word, but as soon as he had finished his meal, he stretched himself down and fell asleep.In the evening the Weendigo told the people that he should go out a hunting; and he strided away toward the North. Toward morning he returned, all besmeared with blood, but he did not make known where he had been nor of what kind of game he had been in quest; although the hunter and his wife had dreadful suspicions of the sport in which he had been engaged. Withal his hunger did not seem to be staid, for he took up the deer which the hunter had brought in, and devoured it eagerly, leaving the family to make their meal of the dried meats which had been reserved in the lodge.In this manner the Weendigo and the hunter’s family lived for some time, and it surprised them that the monster never attempted their lives; although he never slept at night, but always went out and returned, by the break of day, stained with blood, and looking very wild and famished. When there was no deer to be had wherewith to finish his repast, he said nothing. In truth he was always still and gloomy, and he seldom spoke to any of them; when he did, his discourse was chiefly addressed to the boy.One evening, after he had thus sojourned with them for many weeks, he informed the hunter that the time had now arrived for him to take his leave, but that before doing so, he would give him a charm that would bring good luck to his lodge. He presented to him two arrows, and thanking the hunter and his wife for their kindness, the Weendigo departed, saying, as he left them, that he had all the world to travel over.The hunter and his wife were happy when he was gone, for they had looked every moment to have been devoured by him. He tried the arrows, and they never failed to bring down whatever they were aimed at.They had lived on, prosperous and contented, for a year, when, one day, the hunter being absent, his wife on going out of the lodge, saw something like a black cloud approaching.She looked until it came near, when she perceived that it was another Weendigo or Giant Cannibal. Remembering the good conduct of the other, she had no fear of this one, and asked him to look into the lodge.He did so; and finding after he had glared around, that there was no food at hand, he grew very wroth, and, being sorely disappointed, he took the lodge and threw it to the winds. He seemed hardly at first to notice the woman in his anger; but presently he cast a fierce glance upon her, and seizing her by the waist, in spite of her cries and entreaties, he bore her off. To the little son, who ran to and fro lamenting, he paid no heed.At night-fall, when the hunter returned from the forest, he was amazed. His lodge was gone, and he saw his son sitting near the spot where it had stood, shedding tears. The son pointed in the direction the Weendigo had taken, and as the father hurried along he found the remains of his wife strewn upon the ground.The hunter blackened his face, and vowed in his heart that he would have revenge. He built another lodge, and gathering together the bones of his wife, he placed them in the hollow part of a dry tree.He left his boy to take care of the lodge while he was absent, hunting and roaming about from place to place, striving to forget his misfortune, and searching for the wicked Weendigo.He had been gone but a little while one morning, when his son shot his arrows out through the top of the lodge, and running out to look for them, he could find them nowhere. The boy had been trying his luck, and he was puzzled that he had shot his shafts entirely out of sight.His father made him more arrows, and when he was again left alone, he shot one of them out; but although he looked as sharply as he could toward the spot where it fell, and ran thither at once, he could not find it.He shot another, which was lost in the same way; and returning to the lodge to replenish his quiver, he happened to espy one of the lucky arrows, which the first Weendigo had given to his father, hanging upon the side of the lodge. He reached up, and having secured it, he shot it out at the opening, and immediately running out to find where it fell, he was surprised to see a beautiful boy just in the act of taking it up, and hurrying away with it to a large tree, where he disappeared.The hunter’s son followed, and having come to the tree, he beheld the face of the boy looking out through an opening in the hollow part.“Ha! ha!” he said, “my friend, come out and play with me;” and he urged the boy till he consented. They played and shot their arrows by turns.Suddenly the young boy said, “Your father is coming. We must stop. Promise me that you will not tell him.”The hunter’s son promised, and the other disappeared in the tree.When the hunter returned from the chase, his son sat demurely by the fire. In the course of the evening he asked his father to make him a new bow; and when he was questioned as to the use he could find for two bows, he answered that one might break or get lost.The father pleased at his son’s diligence in the practice of the bow, made him the two weapons; and the next day, as soon as his father had gone away, the boy ran to the hollow tree, and invited his little friend to come out and play; at the same time presenting to him the new bow. They went and played in the lodge together, and in their sport they raised the ashes all over it.Suddenly again the youngest said, “Your father is coming, I must leave.”He again exacted a promise of secresy, and went back to his tree. The eldest took his seat near the fire.When the hunter came in he was surprised to see the ashes scattered about. “Why, my son,” he said, “you must have played very hard to day to raise such a dust all alone.”“Yes,” the boy answered, “I was very lonesome, and I ran round and round—that is the cause of it.”The next day the hunter made ready for the chase as usual. The boy said, “Father, try and hunt all day, and see what you can kill.”He had no sooner set out than the boy called his friend, and they played and chased each other round the lodge. They had great delight in each other’s company, and made merry by the hour. The hunter was again returning, and came to a rising ground, which caught the winds as they passed, and he heard his son laughing and making a noise, but the sounds as they reached him on the hill-top, seemed as if they arose from two persons playing.At the same time the younger boy stopped, and after saying “Your father is coming,” he stole away, under cover of the high grass, to his hollow tree, which was not far off.The hunter, on entering, found his son sitting by the fire, very quiet and unconcerned, although he saw that all the articles of the lodge were lying thrown about in all directions.“Why, my son,” he said “you must play very hard every day; and what is it that you do, all alone, to throw the lodge in such confusion?”The boy again had his excuse. “Father,” he answered, “I play in this manner: I chase and drag my blanket around the lodge, and that is the reason you see the ashes spread about.”The hunter was not satisfied until his son had shown him how he played with the blanket, which he did so adroitly as to set his father laughing, and at last drive him out of the lodge with the great clouds of ashes that he raised.The next morning the boy renewed his request that his father should be absent all day, and see if he could not kill two deer. The hunter thought this a strange desire on the part of his son, but as he had always humored the boy, he went into the forest as usual, bent on accomplishing his wish, if he could.As soon as he was out of sight, his son hastened to his young companion at the tree, and they continued their sports.The father on nearing his home in the evening, as he reached the rising ground, again heard the sounds of play and laughter; and as the wind brought them straight to his ear, he was now certain that there were two voices.The boy from the tree had no more than time to escape, when the hunter entered, and found his son, sitting as usual, near the fire. When he cast his eyes around, he saw that the lodge was in greater confusion than before. “My son,” he said, “you must be very foolish when alone to play so. But, tell me, my son; I heard two voices, I am sure;” and he looked closely on the prints of the footsteps in the ashes. “True,” he continued, “here is the print of a foot which is smaller than my son’s;” and he was now satisfied that his suspicions were well founded, and that some very young person had been the companion of his son.The boy could not now refuse to tell his father what had happened.“Father,” he said, “I found a boy in the hollow of that tree, near the lodge, where you placed my mother’s bones.”Strange thoughts came over the mind of the hunter; did his wife live again in this beautiful child?Fearful of disturbing the dead, he did not dare to visit the place where he had deposited her remains.He, however, engaged his son to entice the boy to a dead tree, by the edge of a wood, where they could kill many flying-squirrels by setting it on fire. He said that he would conceal himself near by, and take the boy.The next day the hunter accordingly went into the woods, and his son, calling the boy from the tree, urged him to go with him to kill the squirrels. The boy objected that his father was near, but he was at length prevailed on to go, and after they had fired the tree, and while they were busy killing or taking the squirrels, the hunter suddenly made his appearance, and clasped the strange boy in his arms. He cried out, “Kago, kago, don’t, don’t. You will tear my clothes!” for he was clad in a fine apparel, which shone as if it had been made of a beautiful transparent skin. The father reassured him by every means in his power.By constant kindness and gentle words the boy was reconciled to remain with them; but chiefly by the presence of his young friend, the hunter’s son, to whom he was fondly attached. The children were never parted from each other; and when the hunter looked upon the strange boy, he seemed to see living in him the better spirit of his lost wife. He was thankful to the Great Spirit for this act of goodness, and in his heart he felt assured that in time the boy would show great virtue, and in some way avenge him on the wicked Weendigo who had destroyed the companion of his lodge.The hunter grew at ease in his spirit, and gave all of the time he could spare from the chase to the society of the two children; but, what affected him the most, both of his sons, although they were well-formed and beautiful, grew no more in stature, but remained children still. Every day they resembled each other more and more, and they never ceased to sport and divert themselves in the innocent ways of childhood.One day the hunter had gone abroad with his bow and arrows, leaving, at the request of the strange boy, one of the two shafts which the friendly Weendigo had given to him, behind in the lodge.When he returned, what were his surprise and joy to see stretched dead by his lodge-door, the black giant who had slain his wife. He had been stricken down by the magic shaft in the hands of the little stranger from the tree; and ever after the boy, or the Bone-Dwarf as he was called, was the guardian and good genius of the lodge, and no evil spirit, giant, or Weendigo, dared approach it to mar their peace.
A Dog was chasing a Wolf, and as he ran he thought what a fine fellow he was, and what strong legs he had, and how quickly they covered the ground. “Now, there’s this Wolf,” he said to himself, “what a poor creature he is: he’s no match for me, and he knows it and so he runs away.” But the Wolf looked round just then and said, “Don’t you imagine I’m running away from you, my friend: it’s your master I’m afraid of.”
An old woman lived with her grandson in a small hut. She had no husband to take care of her and the boy, and they were very poor. The lad’s clothing was made of the skins of birds which they caught in snares. Whenever the boy came out of the hut to play, the other boys would call, “Here comes the bird boy! Fly away, birdie!” and the men would laugh at him and tear his clothes.Only one man whose name was Kiv-i-ung, was kind to the boy and tried to protect him from the others, but they would not stop. The lad often came to his grandmother crying, and she would console him and promise him a new garment, as soon as they could get the skins.She begged the men to stop teasing the child and tearing his clothes, but they only laughed at her. At last she became angry and said to the boy, “I will avenge you on your tormentors. I can do it by making use of my power to conjure.”She poured water on the mud floor and said, “Step into this puddle, and do not be frightened at anything that happens.”He stepped into it, and immediately the earth opened and he sank out of sight, but the next moment he rose near the beach and swam about as a young seal with a wonderfully smooth, shining skin.Some one saw him and called out that there was a yearling seal close to shore. The men all ran to their kayaks eager to secure the beautiful creature. But the boy-seal swam lustily away as his grandmother had told him to do, and the men continued to pursue him. Whenever he rose to the surface to breathe, he took care to come up behind the kayaks, where he would splash and dabble in order to lure them on. As soon as he had attracted their attention and they had turned to pursue him, he would dive and come up farther out in the sea. The men were so interested in catching him that they did not observe how they were being led far out into the ocean and out of sight of the land.It was now that the grandmother put forth her powers. Suddenly a fierce gale arose; the sea foamed and roared and the waves upset their frail vessels and plunged them under the surface. When they were drowned, the little seal changed back into a boy and walked home over the water without wetting his feet. There was no one left now to torment him.Kiv-i-ung, who had never abused the boy, had gone out with the rest, but his kayak did not capsize. Bravely he strove against the wild waves, and drifted far away from the place where the others had gone down. There was a dense fog and he could not tell in which direction to go.He rowed for many days not knowing whither he was going, and then one day he spied through the mists a dark mass which he took to be land. As he pulled toward it the sea became more and more tempestuous, and he saw that what he had supposed to be a rocky cliff on an island was a wild, black sea with a raging whirlpool in the midst of it.He had come so close that it was only by the utmost exertion he escaped being drawn into the whirlpool and carried down. He put forth all his strength and at last got away where the waves were less like mountains. But he had to be constantly on the alert, for at one moment his frail craft was carried high up on the crest of billows and the next it was plunged into a deep trough of the sea.Again he saw a dark mass looming up, and rowed toward it hoping to find land, but again he was deceived, for it was another whirlpool which made the sea rise in gigantic waves. At last the wind subsided, and the sea became less rough, though the whitecaps still frothed around him. The fog lifted, and at a great distance he saw land, real land this time.He went toward it, and after rowing along the coast for some distance he spied a stone house with a light in it. You may be sure he was delighted to come near a human habitation again. He landed and entered the house. There was no one in it but one old woman. She received him kindly and helped him to pull off his boots, and she hung his wet stockings on the frame above the lamp. Then she said:“I will make a fire in the next room and cook a good supper.”Kiviung thought she was a very good woman, and he was so hungry that he could scarcely wait for the supper. It seemed to him that she was a long time preparing it. When his stockings were dry he tried to take them from the frame in order to put them on. But as soon as he touched the frame it rose up out of his reach. He tried in vain several times, and each time the frame rose up. He called the woman in and asked her to give him his stockings.“Take them yourself,” she said. “There they are; there they are,” and went out again.Kiviung was surprised at the change in her manner. He tried once more to take hold of his stockings, but with no better result. Calling the woman in again, he explained his difficulty and said:“Please hand me my boots and stockings; they slip away from me.”“Sit down where I sat when you entered my house; then you can get them,” she replied, and left the room.He tried once more, but the frame arose as before and he could not reach it. He knew now that she was a wicked woman, and he suspected that the big fire she had made was prepared so she could roast and eat him.What should he do? He had seen that she could work magic. He knew that he could not escape unless he could surpass her in her own arts. He summoned his mascot, which was a huge white bear. At once there was a low growl from under the house. The woman did not hear it at first, but Kiviung kept on conjuring the spirit and it rose right up through the floor roaring loudly. Then the old witch rushed in trembling with fear and gave Kiviung what he had asked for.“Here are your boots,” she cried; “here are your slippers; here are your stockings. I will help you put them on.”But Kiviung would not stay any longer with the horrid creature, and dared not wait to put on his stockings and boots. He rushed out of the house and had barely gotten out of the door when it clapped violently together, catching the tail of his jacket, which was torn off. Without stopping to look behind, he ran to his kayak and paddled away.The old woman quickly recovered from her fear and came out swinging a glittering knife which she attempted to throw at him. He was so frightened that he nearly upset his kayak, but he steadied it and arose to his feet, lifting his spear.“I shall kill you with my spear,” he cried.At that the old woman fell down in terror and broke her knife which she had made by magic out of a thin slab of ice.He traveled on for many days, always keeping near the shore. At last he came to another hut, and again a lamp was burning inside. His clothing was wet and he was hungry, so he landed and went into the house. There he found something very strange: a woman living all alone with her daughter! Yet the daughter was married and they kept the son-in-law in the house. But he was a log of driftwood which they had found on the beach. It had four branches like legs and arms. Every day about the time of low water they carried it to the beach and when the tide came in, it swam away. When night came it returned with eight large seals, two being fastened to each bough.Thus the log provided food for its wife, her mother, and Kiviung, and they lived in abundance. Kiviung became rested and refreshed after his weary travels, and he enjoyed this life so well that he remained for a long time. One day, however, after they had launched the log as they had always done, it floated away and never came back.Then Kiviung went sealing every day for himself and the women, and he was so successful that they wished him to remain with them always. But he had not forgotten the home he had left long ago, and meant to return to it. He was anxious to lay in a good stock of mittens to keep his hands warm on the long journey, and each night he pretended to have lost the pair he wore, and the women would make him another pair from the skin of the seals he brought home. He hid them all in the hood of his jacket.Then one day, he, too, floated off with the tide and never came back. He rowed on for many days and nights, always following the shore. During the terrible storm he had been out of sight of land all he ever cared to be.At last he came again to a hut where a lamp was burning, and went to it. But this time he thought it would be well to see who was inside before entering. He therefore climbed up to the window and looked through the peep-hole. On the bed sat a woman whose head and whose hands looked like big yellow-and-black spiders. She was sewing; and when she saw the dark shadow before the window she at first thought it was a cloud, but when she looked up and beheld a man, she grasped a big knife and arose, looking very angry. Kiviung waited to see no more. He felt a sudden longing for home, and hastily went on his way.Again he traveled for days and nights. At last he came to a land which seemed familiar, and as he went farther he recognized his own country. He was very glad to see some boats ahead of him, and when he stood up and waved and shouted to them they came to meet him. They had been on a whaling excursion and were towing a large dead whale to their village.In the bow of one of the boats stood a stout young man who had harpooned the whale. He looked at Kiviung keenly and Kiviung looked at him. Then, of a sudden, they recognized each other. It was Kiviung’s own son whom he had left a small boy, but who was now become a grown man and a great hunter.Kiviung’s wife was delighted to see him whom she had supposed dead. At first she seemed glad and then she seemed troubled. She had taken a new husband, but after thinking it over she returned to Kiviung, and they were very happy.
It is commonly believed in Germany that on St. Andrew’s night, St. Thomas’ night, and Christmas and New Year’s nights, a girl has the power of inviting and seeing her future lover. A table is to be laid for two persons, taking care, however, that there are no forks upon it. Whatever the lover leaves behind him must be carefully preserved, for he then returns to her who has it, and loves her passionately. The article must, however, be kept carefully concealed from his sight, for he would otherwise remember the torture of superhuman power exercised over him which he that night endured, become conscious of the charms employed, and this would lead to fatal consequences.A fair maiden in Austria once sought at midnight, after performing the necessary ceremonies, to obtain a sight of her lover, whereupon a shoemaker appeared having a dagger in his hand, which he threw at her and then disappeared. She picked up the dagger which he had thrown at her and concealed it in a trunk.Not long afterwards the shoemaker visited, courted, and married her. Some years after her marriage she chanced to go one Sunday about the hour of vespers to the trunk in search of something that she required for her work the next day. As she opened the trunk her husband came to her, and would insist on looking into it. She kept him off, until at last he pushed her away, and there saw his long-lost dagger. He immediately seized it, and demanded how she obtained it, because he had lost it at a very particular time. In her fear and alarm she had not the power to invent any excuse, so declared the truth, that it was the same dagger he had left behind him the night when she had obliged him to appear to her. Her husband hereupon grew enraged, and said, with a terrible voice—“‘Twas you, then, that caused me that night of dreadful misery?”With that he thrust the dagger into her heart.
When the devil set a claim to the fair lands at the north of Long Island Sound, his claim was disputed by the Indians, who prepared to fight for their homes should he attempt to serve his writ of ejectment. Parley resulted in nothing, so the bad one tried force, but he was routed in open fight and found it desirable to get away from the scene of action as soon as possible. He retreated across the Sound near the head of East River. The tide was out, so he stepped from island to island, without trouble, and those reefs and islands are to this day the Devil’s Stepping-Stones. On reaching Throgg’s Neck he sat down in a despairing attitude and brooded on his defeat, until, roused to a frenzy at the thought of it, he resolved to renew the war on terms advantageous entirely to himself. In that day Connecticut was free from rocks, but Long Island was covered with them; so he gathered all he could lay his hands on and tossed them at the Indians that he could see across the Sound near Cold Spring until the supply had given out. The red men who last inhabited Connecticut used to show white men where the missiles landed and where the devil struck his heel into the ground as he sprang from the shore in his haste to reach Long Island. At Cold Spring other footprints and one of his toes are shown. Establishing himself at Coram, he troubled the people of the country for many years, so that between the devil on the west and the Montauks on the east they were plagued indeed; for though their guard at Watch Hill, Rhode Island, and other places often apprised them of the coming of the Montauks, they never knew which way to look for the devil.
In one of the wildest and most romantic parts of Germany, there is a high mountain which is as renowned for the strange stories that are told about it, as for its many natural peculiarities. It is flat on the top, falling off precipitously on every side. In recent times a high tower has been built on the very edge of the rock. Curious to say, the ground on the summit of this mountain is a bog or morass; flat slabs of stone have been placed on it to enable bold tourists to reach the tower without sinking in unawares. There is a bronze ring on a balcony surrounding the tower, with darts pointing in different directions, showing where London, Paris, and St Petersburg, for instance, are situated. I need hardly say that these towns are not visible, but that if a straight line could be drawn from this spot, it would reach them.Not far below the summit there is a mysterious-looking lake, which it is strange indeed to find at so high a level. A huge cliff formed of boulders of rock rises on the one side of the lake; it falls like a great wall straight into the water; only daring little ferns and plants have a foothold on it; the lake is inaccessible from this direction. A narrow pathway winding in and out edged with water-reeds leads by it on the other side. This lake is said to be so deep that it is unfathomable; it is dark brown in colour, bitter and brackish to the taste. No fish can live in it. Learned men, called geologists, who study the crust of the earth, have decided that this region is not volcanic in origin as it would appear at first sight, but that the lake is fed by water from the morass.This mountain is constantly visited by sudden violent atmospheric disturbances, great winds and heavy thunderstorms, that spring up at a moment’s notice, striking terror into the hearts of any travellers who may be caught in them.Now several centuries ago, before the time of railways and steamboats, a mighty king of the water-sprites lived in this lake with his three beautiful daughters, the famed nixies of the lake.The King was a majestic old man with long white beard and hair; his eyes were black and sinister, and when he drew his eyebrows together in a straight line over his eyes, his frown was terrible to behold. The thunderstorms which devastated the country round, were attributed to him. In his fits of rage, the village folk declared, he would hurl stones and thunderbolts down from the mountain, heedless of what or whom he might destroy.The day would be fine, the sky blue, and in a moment a storm wind would arise, clouds would cover the heavens, and lightning shoot forth; how could this be accounted for by natural agency?The nixies were much to be pitied, if the truth were known, for their father was a stern old tyrant, and interfered constantly with their harmless amusements, also prohibiting their leaving the lake to frolic at midnight with the wood-spirits, whom he considered as beneath them in rank.On a warm day in the lovely month of June (which is the favourite month of all the year for the water-nixies, for then the white and yellow water lilies are in flower, and the yellow irises shine among the water-reeds) the three sisters were swimming lazily to and fro, plunging under the water like seals, to reappear like seals on the look-out for something to happen. But nothing ever did happen but one of their father’s tempers, and of these they were tired enough as you may imagine. They had not fishes’ tails like their cousins the mermaids, but slender limbs of dazzling whiteness. Their hair resembled beautiful seaweed as they dived under the water, or when it spread out like a fan on the surface.The eldest, Clothilde, was dark; she was beautiful, but haughty, and looked as if she had inherited her father’s temper.The youngest was very fair; she had the golden hair of a fairy, her eyes were blue, but meaningless; there was little sense in their depths. Her name was Elfrida.The second sister, Lenore, was of a different type, and might have been mistaken for a mortal maiden. Her hair was neither dark nor fair, neither red nor brown, it was of a pale hazel colour and fell in straight masses nearly to her feet. Her eyes were of a deep grey fringed with dark lashes; they had a mysterious and pathetic look—a look caused by longing after something indefinite and yet desired, or by a prescience perhaps of coming disaster.Lenore rose to the surface of the water. “Sisters,” she called, “sisters, listen to me,” and she swam towards the shade of the rock, and seated herself on a stony seat, half in half out of the water. “I can bear the monotony of our existence no longer. I tire of this life of ceaseless dancing, swimming, drifting. I want to visit the homes of men who live in the village that lies below us at the foot of the mountain, to hear stories of the world from which we are shut out, to share as far as it is possible for us in the simple and homely amusements of mortals.”“I am willing to go with you,” said Clothilde, frowning discontentedly. “I am tired too of this melancholy lake; the eternal nothingness of our life oppresses me too.” She tore a water-lily to pieces as she spoke.“O do not do that!” said Lenore, almost as if in pain, “the flowers can feel too!”“What if they can!” said Clothilde scornfully; for the cruelty of the nixies coursed through her veins.“And you Elfrida,” said Lenore, turning to her fairer sister, “will you come with us?”“Ah!” said Elfrida, “I prefer to stay here among the water-lilies. I have no aspirations, I could live here for ever sleeping through the winter months, dreaming through the summer ones, yet if you go, I will go too; for we three have never been separated, and I should be afraid if I were left alone with my father.” As she spoke she placed a water-lily in her golden hair; the sunbeams struck through the fir-trees by the lake and fell on her, till she looked like some wonderful fairy princess, too exquisite to be real.A young man happened to be passing the lake just at this moment; he caught the entrancing picture as if it were a vision from Heaven; his brain reeled, his breath failed him, he would have fallen in a swoon; but then he met Lenore’s eyes, grave, calm, and searching. A wild longing and deep melancholy seized on him. He rushed towards the lake, and clutched hold of the branches of a young willow, only just in time to prevent himself from falling into those treacherous depths.With a weird cry and their white arms raised over their heads, the nixies disappeared in the lake. The young man gazed as one bewitched; crossed himself in fear; and gazed again. All was silent: no living creature stirred; only the sunbeams fell athwart the lake, and little cascades of water fell over the surface of the rock.“I have seen the nixies of the pool,” thought the young man, who was the son of a rich peasant farmer in the village. “Surely that means that I shall die ere long. I should not fear death,” he continued, “if I were to die in battle in honourable and open conflict; but to die young, stricken by some awful and unaccountable fate, that would be terrible.”As he turned homewards, a wind arose that nearly hurled him into the lake; so violent was the gust, and a storm burst forth, the like of which he had never experienced before. Branches were torn from the trees, and hurled in his path; the lightning was continuous and nearly blinded him. Glancing fearfully back at the lake, the waters seemed to have arisen in great waves, and he thought he saw the nixy King himself raging and roaring like a wild creature, casting the storm winds forth from their fortresses in the rocks, holding the lightning like fireworks in his long fingers, and hurling it across the land. Terrified, half-stunned by the thunder, and stupefied by the hail and rain, he at last reached home, where his mother awaited him in great anxiety. However he soon had off his wet, torn clothes, and casting himself on his bed fell into a profound slumber. He slept for nearly a night and a day, and when he awoke his adventures seemed to him a wild dream, and like a dream were half-forgotten although they exerted a subtle influence on his waking thoughts that he was unaware of.Meanwhile the nixies, and especially Lenore, had been anxious as to his fate. Not until she had sent their dwarf messenger into the village to make inquiries as to his welfare, could she be at rest. Her wish to visit the homes of men became a passion, a burning desire that could not be quenched. She called on her dread father; three times she cried out to him, and her sisters echoed the call. Then he arose from the depths, majestic and so terrible to behold that Lenore almost lost the courage to address him. But he listened to her request in silence, brooding, while great ravens whirled and swooped in the sky above their heads. Then he spoke:“It is decreed that no one can alter the path of fate, or avoid the doom that is written in the stars. The hour has come: I have foreseen this day; go, my daughters, go. But remember there is one condition which you must strictly obey. One night in the week you may be absent from the lake; but as the hour strikes twelve, you must be back again in these waters. I shall send a messenger to fetch you, the dwarf Hunold, beware lest you keep him waiting! If you disobey, destruction will overtake you, and your home will know you no more.” He sank gloomily into the lake; the day was oppressive; no rain fell and the evening brought no relief. Strange and uneasy were the dreams of many that night in the little village.Some young people returning late from a social gathering, reported that they had seen a bright, uncanny light in the sky, like a fire, or some said like a golden hand, at midnight over the ill-omened mountain.In those days when it was so difficult to travel from place to place, the villagers were obliged to depend on themselves for amusement and entertainment. In the villages round about the mountain it was the custom for the young people to meet together at each other’s houses on Saturday evenings. Those who had rooms large enough, took it in turns to invite all the rest; the girls brought their spinning-wheels, and the room where they met was called the spinning-room. The girls were busy and merry at the same time. Stories were told, and songs were sung, the young men smoked and drank wine, and not infrequently the spinning-wheels were cleared away and there was dancing. Strangers were welcome; for the peasants were renowned for their hospitality; but seldom did it happen that travellers passed that way; some young fellow perhaps might drop in who was wandering about for a year or so before settling down to the work of his life as the German custom is; but tourists were few when roads were bad and money scarce.One lovely summer’s evening at the end of June the full moon was shining in the sky, the latticed windows of the peasant’s house where the young folk were assembled, were wide open; the air was laden with the scent of the white lilies and roses that grew in the garden at the back of the cottage. There was no light as yet but that of the moon in the parlour; the spinning-wheels too were silent; for stories were being told; one more marvellous than the other, of ghosts and goblins, of dwarfs and mountain-spirits, and naturally enough awful tales of the neighbouring nixy King, and of his three daughters who lived in the enchanted lake.Hermann, the young man who had been overtaken by the thunderstorm, was present this evening; he was silent and glum, though the most charming village maidens chaffed him and tried to captivate him, and the peasant girls in this part of Germany are renowned for their beauty and their grace. The melancholy which was not so much part of his natural disposition as due to the adventures of that evening, fell on him again like a dark cloud oppressing his brain. The girls who had been listening to the stories, were by this time worked up to a state of feeling which can only be described by the words creepy, or eerie. Most of them experienced that unaccountable sensation which Germans call Gänsehaut (goose-flesh). So that a sudden knock at the door caused them to cry out in fear and clutch hold of their sweethearts. The knock was repeated three times before anyone summoned up courage to open the door. Then the assembled company fell back in astonishment as three beautiful young girls entered the room, each holding a spinning-wheel under her arm. They walked erect like princesses, everyone was sure they must be of high rank. They wore dresses of some shimmering material such as the village folk had never seen before, and necklaces of pearls, silken hose and silver shoes.Hermann’s heart beat to bursting as he beheld them: where had he seen them before? Surely they were the nixies of the magic pool, and his doom had fallen upon him. Never, never, had he been able to forget Lenore’s eyes. Their mournful beauty haunted his dreams. He met them now, as his breath came and went in great gasps; and there was a flash of recognition between them. “What heavenly beauty, what a noble air she has,” he thought, hardly regarding her sisters who were strictly speaking far more beautiful.The three nixies, for of course it was they, put forth all their fascinating arts to ingratiate themselves with the young people assembled there.“You are pleased to see us, are you not?” they said. “We have heard of the fame of your spinning-evenings, and have come from a far country to take part in them. You shall see how we can spin.”“Very gratifying for us, I am sure,” murmured the officiating president of the club.“Now do not let us disturb you, you were telling stories I believe as we entered,” said Lenore, who, being the most human, took the lead in the conversation.But no one dared to open his mouth, even those who had been the most eager to narrate wild tales before, seemed stricken with dumbness now.“You could tell us a story, I believe,” she said, turning to Hermann, who could only shake his head. “Then I must tell one myself,” she said with a little sigh. She poured forth an extraordinary story to which the peasants listened open-mouthed, the tale of a terrible doom that overtook a faithless lover.“A mortal man,” she said, “had made love to a beautiful nixy, and won her affection in return. But because she was not human, he did not think of marrying her, but became engaged to a village maiden who was good and sweet, if not so beautiful as the nixy. But the nixy had her revenge. She swam under the bridge where the little river ran through the fields, and one day as the two were walking in the dewy meadows, she caused the waters to rise suddenly in a great flood, and tore her lover away from his human bride down with her in the stream, choking him under the water till he was dead. Then she sat with his head on her lap, and stroked his beautiful dark curls, and wept until she dissolved in tears, and became part of the water, which has been slightly salt from that day. The village maiden was married to a rich old peasant not long afterwards; so much for human fidelity,” said Lenore, fixing her sad eyes on Hermann.“He well-deserved his fate,” said Hermann, “who chose the lesser when he might have had the greater love.”“I think the nixy was a mean, wicked thing,” said a young girl, almost a child, called Brigitte, with soft, dark eyes, and a sweet expression on her face. “She could not really have cared for her lover, or she would have wanted him to be happy with the village girl, as she knew she could not marry him herself.”“Never,” said Hermann, excitedly, whose blood was coursing like fire in his veins, “better death in the arms of the beloved, than a contented life with lower aims!”The men laughed.“Now who would have thought that Hermann was so romantic!” they said. “And he has the fattest pigs and the biggest casks of wine in the village!”Songs were proposed; everyone joined in; the voices of the nixies were heard above all, clear and beautiful as a bell. They began with one of the best-known songs in the German language which is always sung on especially jovial occasions, it begins:“I cannot tell why or whereforeA legend of olden timesDeep in my heart is singing,In mournful rhythmic rhymes.”After several songs had been sung in unison, Hermann begged the young man who was the host that evening to ask the beautiful strangers to sing a song alone and of their own choosing, he longed to hear their voices, unspoilt by those of others.The nixy maidens readily complied: was not singing their most natural mode of expressing themselves? They sang these verses to a weird, haunting melody:“The wild-fowl are calling: come back to the lake!O nixies come back, or your proud hearts must break;The moonbeams are glancing, the fairies are dancing,Come back. The grey mists are rising! Beware, O beware!For though you are slender and though you are fair,Your treacherous waters, O nixy king’s daughters,Can slay. Beware the king’s anger—O tempt not your fate,The white water-lilies your coming still wait;Wide open each flower until the twelfth hour—Beware!”The old pendulum clock on the wall struck eleven. How fast the time had flown! The three beautiful maidens rose up hastily and departed, wishing a courteous “good night” and “good luck to you” to the company.As Hermann opened the door for them, he saw a little dwarf with a lighted lantern waiting for them outside the door, and much as he wished to accompany them home, he did not dare to do so.When they had left the room, a storm of conjecture burst forth; at last everyone agreed that they must be the nixies of the lake.“We did not like the look of their eyes; they were so cold and treacherous,” said some of the girls who were jealous of a beauty that they felt they could never attain to.“You are ill-natured things, not fit to sweep the floor for such exquisite creatures,” said Hermann angrily; and the whole company began to jeer and to laugh at him, saying:“Hermann has fallen in love with the nixies. Many a wet kiss will he have from them—ha—ha!—but cold water will be his bridal bed, and death the groomsman—ha, ha!”“Do not be so cruel,” said kind little Brigitte, who had blamed the nixy in the story. “See how pale Hermann looks, he will faint in another minute; he has never been strong since he was out in that awful storm.”Hermann could bear the conversation no longer; hastily saying good night he went home with wild thoughts in his head, and, alas! wild, ungovernable love in his heart.For the next few weeks on Saturday evenings the same thing happened. There was the usual social gathering, no one was absent; the little room could hardly hold the thronging guests. Then there was the eagerly looked for knock at the door, and the three lovely maidens entered and shared so naturally in what was going on that the young people gradually lost somewhat of their awe of them. Who could spin so fast and so finely as the three strangers; who could sing such entrancing songs; who could tell more wonderful stories!Hermann generally managed to sit by Lenore, and to hold her hand, and he knew his love was returned.Naturally the exquisite Elfrida, and the stately Clothilde had their admirers as well.“Soon they will have taken all our sweethearts away from us, the nasty creatures,” whispered some of the village girls under their breath, “and they cannot marry all the lads in the country round. The men are bewitched, that is certain—no good can come of it. Most of the men realise it, however, and will come back to us in time; all except Hermann. He is so far gone that it is quite hopeless to try and influence him.”“I am sorry for Lenore,” said little Brigitte, “I would do anything I could to help her; she looks so very unhappy!”On the night of the 9th of September the spinning evening was to be at Hermann’s house, which was a splendid building in its way, like a great wooden castle. He was feverish with excitement. He bought and gathered all the flowers he could get together, and decked the house as for a wedding-feast. His mother could not bake cakes that were fine enough to suit his taste; the furniture seemed to him clumsy and old-fashioned. He would gladly have strewn rose-leaves, instead of rushes, on the floor for his lady-love to tread on. All the time a voice was telling him to desist: that such love could never be hallowed; that his bride was but a myth, a dream that would vanish away. His mother was terribly troubled about him, and feared that the boy had lost his wits in the thunderstorm.“You shall see my bride to-night, mother,” he said. “Ah, there is no one like her!”But the old woman trembled and shook and crossed herself, she knew not why. She felt a presentiment of coming evil.“She shall not escape from me so soon to-night,” thought Hermann to himself. “I know what I will do: I shall put the clock an hour back, so that when it is really twelve o’clock, they will think it is only eleven. One hour, one blessed hour more in her company, snatched in defiance of fate!”Never had Hermann been more charming as a host than he was to-night. He bade his guests heartily welcome and shook them warmly by the hand. True, he was somewhat distracted and gave strange answers to questions that were put to him. His eyes were constantly on the door. It opened at last, and the three entered; they looked lovelier than ever; they had on golden shoes and wore golden girdles. Their dresses were white edged with pale green like water-lilies with a green calyx. There was to be no spinning to-night. Hermann had provided for music and dancing; he became giddy and his senses failed him almost at the thought of dancing with the lovely Lenore.Ah what light little feet! They hardly seemed to touch the ground as they flew round; but the time too sped by with great rushing wings, though Hermann had striven to check its headlong course. They paid no heed to the dwarf and his constant warning taps on the door; the three sisters were too engrossed in the delights of the dance. But suddenly Lenore glanced at the clock; it pointed to eleven.“A few moments more, my belovèd,” she said, “and then we must part. But why are you so pale?” she asked of Hermann, whose heart was beating fast enough to suffocate him; for he was afraid now of the consequences of his deed.“Lenore,” he said chokingly, “it is midnight; I hope I have not done wrong. I put back the clock. I wanted to keep you all longer at my house.”Lenore turned deadly pale, then she told her sisters of the fatal trick that Hermann had played on them, and they too turned white as the chalk on the walls; well they knew their father and what his revenge might be!Murmuring a sad farewell Lenore gazed for the last time in Hermann’s eyes, and then the dark night swallowed her up for ever.The dwarf’s lantern could be seen from time to time among the forest trees like a will-o’-the-wisp; then that too vanished.The dancing and feasting went on for some time; but Hermann’s heart was sick within him; he had no spirit left for the revelry. An indescribable feeling of terror and anxiety possessed him. The clock struck twelve; the guests dispersed. They had hardly left the house when a terrific storm broke forth, appalling in its awful violence; the house shook, trees were uprooted, lightning blazed continually. The tempest was nothing, however, compared to that in Hermann’s breast; he could not rest or sleep; fearful visions assailed him: he seemed to hear his beloved Lenore calling him, or begging for mercy from her cruel father.Towards morning the storm had somewhat abated though it was by no means over. Hermann rushed out of the house, taking a wild pleasure in battling with the fierce elements. Up and up with a certain step he went towards that lake where all his anguish had begun, and yet where all his hopes and desires were centred. As he approached the lake through the fir-wood, the sky over the great cliff was rosy in the early dawn, the birds were singing, the harebells raised their dew-drenched heads and looked at him. No motion—no sound—the lake was cruel it seemed to him in its indifference to his grief. “Lenore,” he cried, “Lenore!”Then the waters of the lake stirred and three waves arose, each one greater than the last, and in the third was the nixy king with a cruel expression on his face.“Ah, call for Lenore,” he said mockingly, “but you will never see her again!—Behold, the doom of the disobedient daughters is fulfilled.” As he spoke the lake stirred again, the waters whirled round, three exquisite rose-leaves rose from the depths of the lake and floated on the surface of the water. “Never again will you or any mortal man behold the nixies of the pool; they are changed into rose-leaves; this was their punishment,” he said, “a poetical punishment—ha, ha!” and he vanished with a tremendous clap of thunder.More than half-mad Hermann stumbled home; for weeks he lingered between life and death.The kind little Brigitte would have liked to have taken care of him, and would have made him a good wife; but because of his consuming love for Lenore, he slowly pined away, until one day he was found lying dead beside the fatal lake.
It always happens that he who is over-curious in prying into the affairs of other people, strikes his own foot with the axe; and the King of Long-Furrow is a proof of this, who, by poking his nose into secrets, brought his daughter into trouble and ruined his unhappy son-in-law—who, in attempting to make a thrust with his head was left with it broken.There was once on a time a gardener’s wife, who longed to have a son more than a man in a fever for cold water, or the innkeeper for the arrival of the mail-coach.It chanced one day that the poor man went to the mountain to get a faggot, and when he came home and opened it he found a pretty little serpent among the twigs. At the sight of this, Sapatella (for that was the name of the gardener’s wife) heaved a deep sigh, and said, “Alas! even the serpents have their little serpents; but I brought ill-luck with me into this world.” At these words, the little serpent spoke, and said, “Well, then, since you cannot have children, take me for a child, and you will make a good bargain, for I shall love you better than my mother.” Sapatella, hearing a serpent speak thus, nearly fainted; but, plucking up courage, she said, “If it were for nothing else than the affection which you offer, I am content to take you, and treat you as if you were really my own child.” So saying, she assigned him a hole in a corner of the house for a cradle, and gave him for food a share of what she had with the greatest goodwill in the world.The serpent increased in size from day to day; and when he had grown pretty big, he said to Cola Matteo, the gardener, whom he looked on as his father, “Daddy, I want to get married.” “With all my heart,” said Cola Matteo. “We must look out for another serpent like yourself, and try to make up a match between you.” “What serpent are you talking of?” said the little serpent. “I suppose, forsooth, we are all the same with vipers and adders! It is easy to see you are nothing but a country bumpkin, and make a nosegay of every plant. I want the King’s daughter; so go this very instant and ask the King for her, and tell him it is a serpent who demands her.” Cola Matteo, who was a plain, straightforward kind of man, and knew nothing about matters of this sort, went innocently to the King and delivered his message, saying—“The messenger should not be beaten moreThan are the sands upon the shore!”“Know then that a serpent wants your daughter for his wife, and I am come to try if we can make a match between a serpent and a dove!” The King, who saw at a glance that he was a blockhead, to get rid of him, said, “Go and tell the serpent that I will give him my daughter if he turns all the fruit of this orchard into gold.” And so saying, he burst out a-laughing, and dismissed him.When Cola Matteo went home and delivered the answer to the serpent, he said, “Go to-morrow morning and gather up all the fruit-stones you can find in the city, and sow them in the orchard, and you will see pearls strung on rushes!” Cola Mateo, who was no conjurer, neither knew how to comply nor refuse; so next morning, as soon as the Sun with his golden broom had swept away the dirt of the Night from the fields watered by the dawn, he took a basket on his arm and went from street to street, picking up all the stones of peaches, plums, nectarines, apricots, and cherries that he could find. He then went to the orchard of the palace and sowed them, as the serpent had desired. In an instant the trees shot up, and stems and branches, leaves, flowers, and fruit were all of glittering gold—at the sight of which the King was in an ecstasy of amazement, and cried aloud with joy.But when Cola Matteo was sent by the serpent to the King, to demand the performance of his promise, the King said, “Fair and easy, I must first have something else if he would have my daughter; and it is that he make all the walls and the ground of the orchard to be of precious stones.”When the gardener told this to the serpent, he made answer, “Go to-morrow morning and gather up all the bits of broken crockery-ware you can find, and throw them on the walks and on the walls of the orchard; for we will not let this small difficulty stand in our way.” As soon, therefore, as the Night, having aided the robbers, is banished from the sky, and goes about collecting the faggots of twilight, Cola Matteo took a basket under his arm, and went about collecting bits of tiles, lids and bottoms of pipkins, pieces of plate and dishes, handles of jugs, spouts of pitchers. He picked up all the spoiled, broken, cracked lamps and all the fragments of pottery he could find in his way. And when he had done all that the serpent had told him, you could see the whole orchard mantled with emeralds and chalcedonies, and coated with rubies and carbuncles, so that the lustre dazzled your eyes. The King was struck all of a heap by the sight, and knew not what had befallen him. But when the serpent sent again to let him know that he was expecting the performance of his promise, the King answered, “Oh, all that has been done is nothing, if he does not turn this palace into gold.”When Cola Matteo told the serpent this new fancy of the King’s, the serpent said, “Go and get a bundle of herbs and rub the bottom of the palace walls with them. We shall see if we cannot satisfy this whim!” Away went Cola that very moment, and made a great broom of cabbages, radishes, leeks, parsley, turnips, and carrots; and when he had rubbed the lower part of the palace with it, instantly you might see it shining like a golden ball on a weather-vane. And when the gardener came again to demand the hand of the Princess, the King, seeing all his retreat cut off, called his daughter, and said to her, “My dear Grannonia, I have tried to get rid of a suitor who asked to marry you, by making such conditions as seemed to me impossible. But as I am beaten, and obliged to consent, I pray you, as you are a dutiful daughter, to enable me to keep my word, and to be content with what Fate wills and I am obliged to do.”“Do as you please, father,” said Grannonia; “I shall not oppose a single jot of your will!” The King, hearing this, bade Cola Matteo tell the serpent to come.The serpent then set out for the palace, mounted on a car all of gold and drawn by four golden elephants. But wherever he came the people fled away in terror, seeing such a large and frightful serpent making his progress through the city; and when he arrived at the palace, the courtiers all trembled like rushes and ran away; and even the very scullions did not dare to stay in the place. The King and Queen, also, shivering with fear, crept into a chamber. Only Grannonia stood her ground; for though her father and her mother cried continually, “Fly, fly, Grannonia, save yourself,” she would not stir from the spot, saying, “Why should I fly from the husband you have given me?” And when the serpent came into the room, he took Grannonia by the waist, in his tail, and gave her such a shower of kisses that the King writhed like a worm, and went as pale as Death. Then the serpent carried her into another room and fastened the door; and shaking off his skin on the floor, he became a most beautiful youth, with a head all covered with ringlets of gold, and with eyes that would enchant you!When the King saw the serpent go into the room with his daughter and shut the door after him, he said to his wife, “Heaven have mercy on that good soul, my daughter! for she is dead to a certainty, and that accursed serpent has doubtless swallowed her down like the yolk of an egg.” Then he put his eye to the key-hole to see what had become of her; but when he saw the exceeding beauty of the youth, and the skin of the serpent that he had left lying on the ground, he gave the door a kick, then in they rushed, and, taking the skin, flung it into the fire and burned it.When the youth saw this, he cried, “Ah, fools, what have you done!” and instantly he was turned into a dove and flew at the window, where, as he struck his head through the panes, he cut himself sorely.Grannonia, who thus saw herself at the same moment happy and unhappy, joyful and miserable, rich and poor, tore her hair and bewailed her fate, reproaching her father and mother; but they excused themselves, declaring that they had not meant to do harm. But she went on weeping and wailing until Night came forth to drape the canopy of the sky for the funeral of the Sun; and when they were all in bed, she took her jewels, which were in a writing-desk, and went out by the back-door, to search everywhere for the treasure she had lost.She went out of the city, guided by the light of the moon; and on her way she met a fox, who asked her if she wished for company. “Of all things, my friend,” replied Grannonia. “I should be delighted; for I am not over well acquainted with the country.” So they travelled along together till they came to a wood, where the trees, at play like children, were making baby-houses for the shadows to lie in. And as they were now tired and wished to rest, they sheltered under the leaves where a fountain was playing tricks with the grass, throwing water on it by the dishful. There they stretched themselves on a mattress of tender soft grass, and paid the duty of repose which they owed to Nature for the merchandise of life.They did not awake till the Sun, with his usual fire, gave the signal to sailors and travellers to set out on their road; and, after they awoke, they still stayed for some time listening to the songs of the birds, in which Grannonia took great delight. The fox, seeing this, said to her, “You would feel twice as much pleasure if, like me, you understood what they are saying.” At these words Grannonia—for women are by nature as curious as they are talkative—begged the fox to tell her what he had heard the birds saying. So, after having let her entreat him for a long time, to raise her curiosity about what he was going to relate, he told her that the birds were talking to each other about what had lately befallen the King’s son, who was as beautiful as a jay. Because he had offended a wicked ogress, she had laid him under a spell to pass seven years in the form of a serpent; and when he had nearly ended the seven years, he fell in love with the daughter of a King, and being one day in a room with the maiden, he had cast his skin on the ground, when her father and mother rushed in and burned it. Then, when the Prince was flying away in the shape of a dove, he broke a pane in the window to escape, and hurt his head so severely that he was given over by the doctors.Grannonia, who thus heard her own onions spoken of, asked if there was any cure for this injury. The fox replied that there was none other than by anointing his wounds with the blood of those very birds that had been telling the story. When Grannonia heard this, she fell down on her knees to the fox, entreating him to catch those birds for her, that she might get their blood; adding that, like honest comrades, they would share the gain. “Fair and softly,” said the fox; “let us wait till night, and when the birds are gone to bed, trust me to climb the tree and capture them, one after the other.”So they waited till Day was gone, and Earth had spread out her great black board to catch the wax that might drop from the tapers of Night. Then the fox, as soon as he saw all the birds fast asleep on the branches, stole up quite softly, and one after another, throttled all the linnets, larks, tomtits, blackbirds, woodpeckers, thrushes, jays, fly-catchers, little owls, goldfinches, bullfinches, chaffinches, and redbreasts that were on the trees. And when he had killed them all they put the blood in a little bottle, which the fox carried with him, to refresh himself on the road.Grannonia was so overjoyed that she hardly touched the ground; but the fox said to her, “What fine joy in a dream is this, my daughter! You have done nothing, unless you mix my blood also with that of the birds”; and so saying he set off to run away. Grannonia, who saw all her hopes likely to be destroyed, had recourse to woman’s art—flattery; and she said to him, “Gossip fox, there would be some reason for your saving your hide if I were not under so many obligations to you, and if there were no other foxes in the world. But you know how much I owe you, and that there is no scarcity of the likes of you on these plains. Rely on my good faith. Don’t act like the cow that kicks over the pail which she has just filled with milk. You have done the chief part, and now you fail at the last. Do stop! Believe me, and come with me to the city of this King, where you may sell me for a slave if you will!”The fox never dreamed that he could be out-forced by a woman; so he agreed to travel on with her. But they had hardly gone fifty paces, when she lifted up the stick she carried and gave him such a neat rap that he forthwith stretched his legs. Then she put his blood into the little bottle; and setting off again she stayed not till she came to Big Valley, where she went straightway to the royal palace, and sent word that she was come to cure the Prince.Then the King ordered her to be brought before him, and he was astonished at seeing a girl undertake a thing which the best doctors in his kingdom had failed to do. However, a trial could do no harm; and so he said he wished greatly to see the experiment made. But Grannonia answered, “If I succeed, you must promise to give him to me for a husband.” The King, who looked on his son to be even as already dead, answered her, “If you give him to me safe and sound, I will give him to you sound and safe; for it is no great matter to give a husband to her that gives me a son.”So they went to the chamber of the Prince, and hardly had she anointed him with the blood, when he found himself just as if nothing had ever ailed him. Grannonia, when she saw the Prince stout and hearty, bade the King keep his word; whereupon he, turning to his son, said, “My son, a moment ago you were all but dead, and now I see you alive, and can hardly believe it. Therefore, as I have promised this maiden that if she cured you she should have you for a husband, now enable me to perform my promise, by all the love you bear me, since gratitude obliges me to pay this debt.”When the Prince heard these words, he said, “Sir, I would that I was free to prove to you the love I bear you. But as I have already pledged my faith to another woman, you would not consent that I should break my word, nor would this maiden wish that I should do such a wrong to her whom I love; nor can I, indeed, alter my mind!”Grannonia, hearing this, felt a secret pleasure not to be described at finding herself still alive in the memory of the Prince. Her whole face became crimson as she said, “If I could induce this maiden to resign her claims, would you then consent to my wish?” “Never,” replied the Prince, “will I banish from this breast the fair image of her whom I love. I shall ever remain of the same mind and will; and I would sooner see myself in danger of losing my place at the table of life than play so mean a trick!”Grannonia could no longer disguise herself, and discovered to the Prince who she was; for, the chamber having been darkened on account of the wound in his head, he had not known her. But the Prince, now that he recognised her, embraced her with a joy that would amaze you, telling his father what he had done and suffered for her. Then they sent to invite her parents, the King and Queen of Long Field; and they celebrated the wedding with wonderful festivity, making great sport of the great ninny of a fox, and concluding at the last of the last that—“Pain doth indeed a seasoning proveUnto the joys of constant love.”
There was once a king who had only one son, and this young man tormented his father from morning till night to allow him to travel in far countries. For a long time the king refused to give him leave; but at last, wearied out, he granted permission, and ordered his treasurer to produce a large sum of money for the prince’s expenses. The youth was overjoyed at the thought that he was really going to see the world, and after tenderly embracing his father he set forth.He rode on for some weeks without meeting with any adventures; but one night when he was resting at an inn, he came across another traveller, with whom he fell into conversation, in the course of which the stranger inquired if he never played cards. The young man replied that he was very fond of doing so. Cards were brought, and in a very short time the prince had lost every penny he possessed to his new acquaintance. When there was absolutely nothing left at the bottom of the bag, the stranger proposed that they should have just one more game, and that if the prince won he should have the money restored to him, but in case he lost, should remain in the inn for three years, and besides that should be his servant for another three. The prince agreed to those terms, played, and lost; so the stranger took rooms for him, and furnished him with bread and water every day for three years.The prince lamented his lot, but it was no use; and at the end of three years he was released and had to go to the house of the stranger, who was really the king of a neighbouring country, and be his servant. Before he had gone very far he met a woman carrying a child, which was crying from hunger. The prince took it from her, and fed it with his last crust of bread and last drop of water, and then gave it back to its mother. The woman thanked him gratefully, and said:‘Listen, my lord. You must walk straight on till you notice a very strong scent, which comes from a garden by the side of the road. Go in and hide yourself close to a tank, where three doves will come to bathe. As the last one flies past you, catch hold of its robe of feathers, and refuse to give it back till the dove has promised you three things.’The young man did as he was told, and everything happened as the woman had said. He took the robe of feathers from the dove, who gave him in exchange for it a ring, a collar, and one of its own plumes, saying: ‘When you are in any trouble, cry “Come to my aid, O dove!” I am the daughter of the king you are going to serve, who hates your father and made you gamble in order to cause your ruin.’Thus the prince went on his way, and in course of time he arrived at the king’s palace. As soon as his master knew he was there, the young man was sent for into his presence, and three bags were handed to him with these words:‘Take this wheat, this millet, and this barley, and sow them at once, so that I may have loaves of them all to-morrow.’The prince stood speechless at this command, but the king did not condescend to give any further explanation, and when he was dismissed the young man flew to the room which had been set aside for him, and pulling out his feather, he cried: ‘Dove, dove! be quick and come.’‘What is it?’ said the dove, flying in through the open window, and the prince told her of the task before him, and of his despair at being unable to accomplish it. ‘Fear nothing; it will be all right,’ replied the dove, as she flew away again.The next morning when the prince awoke he saw the three loaves standing beside his bed. He jumped up and dressed, and he was scarcely ready when a page arrived with the message that he was to go at once into the king’s chamber. Taking the loaves in his arm he followed the boy, and, bowing low, laid them down before the king. The monarch looked at the loaves for a moment without speaking, then he said:‘Good. The man who can do this can also find the ring which my eldest daughter dropped into the sea.’The prince hastened back to his room and summoned the dove, and when she heard this new command she said: ‘Now listen. To-morrow take a knife and a basin and go down to the shore and get into a boat you will find there.’The young man did not know what he was to do when he was in the boat or where he was to go, but as the dove had come to his rescue before, he was ready to obey her blindly.When he reached the boat he found the dove perched on one of the masts, and at a signal from her he put to sea; the wind was behind them and they soon lost sight of land. The dove then spoke for the first time and said, ‘Take that knife and cut off my head, but be careful that not a single drop of blood falls to the ground. Afterwards you must throw it into the sea.’Wondering at this strange order, the prince picked up his knife and severed the dove’s head from her body at one stroke. A little while after a dove rose from the water with a ring in its beak, and laying it in the prince’s hand, dabbled itself with the blood that was in the basin, when its head became that of a beautiful girl. Another moment and it had vanished completely, and the prince took the ring and made his way back to the palace.The king stared with surprise at the sight of the ring, but he thought of another way of getting rid of the young man which was surer even than the other two.‘This evening you will mount my colt and ride him to the field, and break him in properly.’The prince received this command as silently as he had received the rest, but no sooner was he in his room than he called for the dove, who said: ‘Attend to me. My father longs to see you dead, and thinks he will kill you by this means. He himself is the colt, my mother is the saddle, my two sisters are the stirrups, and I am the bridle. Do not forget to take a good club, to help you in dealing with such a crew.’So the prince mounted the colt, and gave him such a beating that when he came to the palace to announce that the animal was now so meek that it could be ridden by the smallest child, he found the king so bruised that he had to be wrapped in cloths dipped in vinegar, the mother was too stiff to move, and several of the daughters’ ribs were broken. The youngest, however, was quite unharmed. That night she came to the prince and whispered to him:‘Now that they are all in too much pain to move, we had better seize our chance and run away. Go to the stable and saddle the leanest horse you can find there.’ But the prince was foolish enough to choose the fattest: and when they had started and the princess saw what he had done, she was very sorry, for though this horse ran like the wind, the other flashed like thought. However, it was dangerous to go back, and they rode on as fast as the horse would go.In the night the king sent for his youngest daughter, and as she did not come he sent again; but she did not come any the more for that. The queen, who was a witch, discovered that her daughter had gone off with the prince, and told her husband he must leave his bed and go after them. The king got slowly up, groaning with pain, and dragged himself to the stables, where he saw the lean horse still in his stall.Leaping on his back he shook the reins, and his daughter, who knew what to expect and had her eyes open, saw the horse start forward, and in the twinkling of an eye changed her own steed into a cell, the prince into a hermit, and herself into a nun.When the king reached the chapel, he pulled up his horse and asked if a girl and a young man had passed that way. The hermit raised his eyes, which were bent on the ground, and said that he had not seen a living creature. The king, much disgusted at this news, and not knowing what to do, returned home and told his wife that, though he had ridden for miles, he had come across nothing but a hermit and a nun in a cell.‘Why those were the runaways, of course,’ she cried, flying into a passion, ‘and if you had only brought a scrap of the nun’s dress, or a bit of stone from the wall, I should have had them in my power.’At these words the king hastened back to the stable, and brought out the lean horse who travelled quicker than thought. But his daughter saw him coming, and changed her horse into a plot of ground, herself into a rose-tree covered with roses, and the prince into a gardener. As the king rode up, the gardener looked up from the tree which he was trimming and asked if anything was the matter. ‘Have you seen a young man and a girl go by?’ said the king, and the gardener shook his head and replied that no one had passed that way since he had been working there. So the king turned his steps homewards and told his wife.‘Idiot!’ cried she, ‘if you had only brought me one of the roses, or a handful of earth, I should have had them in my power. But there is no time to waste. I shall have to go with you myself.’The girl saw them from afar, and a great fear fell on her, for she knew her mother’s skill in magic of all kinds. However, she determined to fight to the end, and changed the horse into a deep pool, herself into an eel, and the prince into a turtle. But it was no use. Her mother recognised them all, and, pulling up, asked her daughter if she did not repent and would not like to come home again. The eel wagged ‘No’ with her tail, and the queen told her husband to put a drop of water from the pool into a bottle, because it was only by that means that she could seize hold of her daughter. The king did as he was bid, and was just in the act of drawing the bottle out of the water after he had filled it, when the turtle knocked against and spilt it all. The king then filled it a second time, but again the turtle was too quick for him.The queen saw that she was beaten, and called down a curse on her daughter that the prince should forget all about her. After having relieved her feelings in this manner, she and the king went back to the palace.The others resumed their proper shapes and continued their journey, but the princess was so silent that at last the prince asked her what was the matter. ‘It is because I know you will soon forget all about me,’ said she, and though he laughed at her and told her it was impossible, she did not cease to believe it.They rode on and on and on, till they reached the end of the world, where the prince lived, and leaving the girl in an inn he went himself to the palace to ask leave of his father to present her to him as his bride; but in his joy at seeing his family once more he forgot all about her, and even listened when the king spoke of arranging a marriage for him.When the poor girl heard this she wept bitterly, and cried out, ‘Come to me, my sisters, for I need you badly!’In a moment they stood beside her, and the elder one said, ‘Do not be sad, all will go well,’ and they told the innkeeper that if any of the king’s servants wanted any birds for their master they were to be sent up to them, as they had three doves for sale.And so it fell out, and as the doves were very beautiful the servant bought them for the king, who admired them so much that he called his son to look at them. The prince was much pleased with the doves and was coaxing them to come to him, when one fluttered on to the top of the window and said, ‘If you could only hear us speak, you would admire us still more.’And another perched on a table and added, ‘Talk away, it might help him to remember!’And the third flew on his shoulder and whispered to him, ‘Put on this ring, prince, and see if it fits you.’And it did. Then they hung a collar round his neck, and held a feather on which was written the name of the dove. And at last his memory came back to him, and he declared he would marry the princess and nobody else. So the next day the wedding took place, and they lived happy till they died.
In Norroway, long time ago, there lived a certain lady, and she had three daughters: The oldest of them said to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.” Her mother did so; and the daughter went away to an old witch washerwife and told her purpose. The old wife bade her stay that day, and look out of her back-door, and see what she could see. She saw nought the first day. The second day she did the same, and saw nought. On the third day she looked again, and saw a coach-and-six coming along the road. She ran in and told the old wife what she saw. “Well,” quoth the old woman, “yon’s for you.” So they took her into the coach and galloped off.The second daughter next says to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.” Her mother did so; and away she went to the old wife, as her sister had done. On the third day she looked out of the back-door, and saw a coach-and-four coming along the road. “Well,” quoth the old woman, “yon’s for you.” So they took her in, and off they set.The third daughter says to her mother: “Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I’m going away to seek my fortune.” Her mother did so; and away she went to the old witch. She bade her look out of her back-door, and see what she could see She did so; and when she came back, said she saw nought. The second day she did the same, and saw nought. The third day she looked again, and on coming back said to the old wife she saw nought but a great Black Bull coming crooning along the road. “Well,” quoth the old witch, “yon’s for you.” On hearing this she was next to distracted with grief and terror; but she was lifted up and set on his back, and away they went.Aye they travelled, and on they travelled, till the lady grew faint with hunger. “Eat out of my right ear,” says the Black Bull, “and drink out of my left ear, and set by your leaving.” So she did as he said, and was wonderfully refreshed. And long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of a very big and bonny castle. “Yonder we must be this night,” quoth the Bull; “for my elder brother lives yonder;” and presently they were at the place. They lifted her off his back, and took her in, and sent him away to a park for the night. In the morning, when they brought the Bull home, they took the lady into a fine shining parlour, and gave her a beautiful apple, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal was in the world, and that would bring her out of it. Again she was lifted on the Bull’s back, and after she had ridden far, and farther than I can tell, they came in sight of a far bonnier castle, and far farther away than the last.“Again she was lifted to the Black Bull’s back.” Illustration by John D. Batten. Published in More English Fairy Tales(1922). G. Putnam’s Sons.Says the Bull to her: “Yonder we must be this night, for my second brother lives yonder;” and they were at the place directly. They lifted her down and took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took the lady into a fine and rich room, and gave her the finest pear she had ever seen, bidding her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it. Again she was lifted and set on his back, and away they went. And long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of the far biggest castle and far farthest off, they had yet seen. “We must be yonder to-night,” says the Bull, “for my young brother lives yonder;” and they were there directly. They lifted her down, took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took her into a room, the finest of all, and gave her a plum, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it. Presently they brought home the Bull, set the lady on his back, and away they went.And aye they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and ugsome glen, where they stopped, and the lady lighted down. Says the Bull to her: “Here you must stay till I go and fight the Old One. You must seat yourself on that stone, and move neither hand nor foot till I come back, else I’ll never find you again. And if everything round about you turns blue, I have beaten the Old One; but should all things turn red, he’ll have conquered me.” She set herself down on the stone, and by-and-by all round her turned blue. Overcome with joy, she lifted one of her feet, and crossed it over the other, so glad was she that her companion was victorious. The Bull returned and sought for her, but never could find her.Long she sat, and aye she wept, till she wearied. At last she rose and went away, she didn’t know where. On she wandered, till she came to a great hill of glass, that she tried all she could to climb, but wasn’t able. Round the bottom of the hill she went, sobbing and seeking a passage over, till at last she came to a smith’s house; and the smith promised, if she would serve him seven years, he would make her iron shoon, wherewith she could climb over the glassy hill.At seven years’ end she got her iron shoon, clomb the glassy hill, and chanced to come to the old washerwife’s habitation. There she was told of a gallant young knight that had given in some clothes all over blood to wash, and whoever washed them was to be his wife. The old wife had washed till she was tired, and then she set her daughter at it, and both washed, and they washed, and they washed, in hopes of getting the young knight; but for all they could do they couldn’t bring out a stain.At length they set the stranger damsel to work; and whenever she began, the stains came out pure and clean, and the old wife made the knight believe it was her daughter had washed the clothes. So the knight and the eldest daughter were to be married, and the stranger damsel was distracted at the thought of it, for she was deeply in love with him. So she bethought her of her apple and breaking it, found it filled with gold and precious jewellery, the richest she had ever seen. “All these,” she said to the eldest daughter, “I will give you, on condition that you put off your marriage for one day and allow me to go into his room alone at night.” The lady consented; but meanwhile the old wife had prepared a sleeping drink, and given it to the knight who drank it, and never wakened till next morning. The live-long night the damsel sobbed and sang:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”Next day she knew not what to do for grief. Then she broke the pear, and found it filled with jewellery far richer than the contents of the apple. With these jewels she bargained for permission to be a second night in the young knight’s chamber; but the old wife gave him another sleeping drink, and again he slept till morning. All night she kept sighing and singing as before:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”Still he slept, and she nearly lost hope altogether, But that day, when he was out hunting, somebody asked him what noise and moaning was that they heard all last night in his bedchamber. He said: “I have heard no noise.” But they assured him there was; and he resolved to keep waking that night to try what he could hear. That being the third night and the damsel being between hope and despair, she broke her plum, and it held far the richest jewellery of the three. She bargained as before; and the old wife, as before, took in the sleeping drink to the young knight’s chamber; but he told her he couldn’t drink it that night without sweetening. And when she went away for some honey to sweeten it with, he poured out the drink, and so made the old wife think he had drunk it. They all went to bed again, and the damsel began, as before, singing:“Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?”He heard, and turned to her. And she told him all that had befallen her, and he told her all that had happened to him. And he caused the old washerwife and her daughter to be burnt. And they were married, and he and she are living happy to this day for aught I know.
There was a king in a land not far from Greece who had two daughters, and the younger was fairer than the elder daughter.This old king made a match between the king of Greece and his own elder daughter; but he kept the younger one hidden away till after the marriage. Then the younger daughter came forth to view; and when the king of Greece saw her, he wouldn’t look at his own wife. Nothing would do him but to get the younger sister and leave the elder at home with her father.The king wouldn’t listen to this, wouldn’t agree to the change, so the king of Greece left his wife where she was, went home alone in a terrible rage and collected all his forces to march against the kingdom of his father-in-law.He soon conquered the king and his army and, so far as he was able, he vexed and tormented him. To do this the more completely, he took from him a rod of Druidic spells, enchantment, and ring of youth which he had, and, striking the elder sister with the rod, he said: “You will be a serpent of the sea and live outside there in the bay by the castle.”Then turning to the younger sister, whose name was Gil an Og, he struck her, and said: “You’ll be a cat while inside this castle, and have your own form only when you are outside the walls.”After he had done this, the king of Greece went home to his own country, taking with him the rod of enchantment and the ring of youth. The king died in misery and grief, leaving his two daughters spellbound.Now there was a Druid in that kingdom, and the younger sister went to consult him, and asked: “Shall I ever be released from the enchantment that’s on me now?”“You will not, unless you find the man to release you; and there is no man in the world to do that but a champion who is now with Fin MacCumhail in Erin.”“Well, how can I find that man?” asked she.“I will tell you,” said the Druid. “Do you make a shirt out of your own hair, take it with you, and never stop till you land in Erin and find Fin and his men; the man that the shirt will fit is the man who will release you.”She began to make the shirt and worked without stopping till it was finished. Then she went on her journey and never rested till she came to Erin in a ship. She went on shore and inquired where Fin and his men were to be found at that time of the year.“You will find them at Knock an Ar,” was the answer she got.She went to Knock an Ar carrying the shirt with her. The first man she met was Conan Maol, and she said to him: “I have come to find the man this shirt will fit. From the time one man tries it all must try till I see the man it fits.”The shirt went from hand to hand till Cucúlin put it on. “Well,” said she, “it fits as your own skin.”Now Gil an Og told Cucúlin all that had happened,—how her father had forced her sister to marry the king of Greece, how this king had made war on her father, enchanted her sister and herself, and carried off the rod of enchantment with the ring of youth, and how the old Druid said the man this shirt would fit was the only man in the world who could release them.Now Gil an Og and Cucúlin went to the ship and sailed across the seas to her country and went to her castle.“You’ll have no one but a cat for company to-night,” said Gil an Og. “I have the form of a cat inside this castle, but outside I have my own appearance. Your dinner is ready, go in.”After the dinner Cucúlin went to another room apart, and lay down to rest after the journey. The cat came to his pillow, sat there and purred till he fell asleep and slept soundly till morning.When he rose up, a basin of water, and everything he needed was before him, and his breakfast ready. He walked out after breakfast; Gil an Og was on the green outside before him and said:“If you are not willing to free my sister and myself, I shall not urge you; but if you do free us, I shall be glad and thankful. Many king’s sons and champions before you have gone to recover the ring and the rod; but they have never come back.”“Well, whether I thrive or not, I’ll venture,” said Cucúlin.“I will give you,” said Gil an Og, “a present such as I have never given before to any man who ventured out on my behalf; I will give you the speckled boat.”Cucúlin took leave of Gil an Og and sailed away in the speckled boat to Greece, where he went to the king’s court, and challenged him to combat.The king of Greece gathered his forces and sent them out to chastise Cucúlin. He killed them all to the last man. Then Cucúlin challenged the king a second time.“I have no one now to fight but myself,” said the king; “and I don’t think it becomes me to go out and meet the like of you.”“If you don’t come out to me,” said Cucúlin, “I’ll go in to you and cut the head off you in your own castle.”“That’s enough of impudence from you, you scoundrel,” said the king of Greece. “I won’t have you come into my castle, but I’ll meet you on the open plain.”The king went out, and they fought till Cucúlin got the better of him, bound him head and heels, and said: “I’ll cut the head off you now unless you give me the ring of youth and the rod of enchantment that you took from the father of Gil an Og.”“Well, I did carry them away,” said the king, “but it wouldn’t be easy for me now to give them to you or to her; for there was a man who came and carried them away, who could take them from you and from me, and from as many more of us, if they were here.”“Who was that man?” asked Cucúlin.“His name,” said the king, “is Lug Longhand. And if I had known what you wanted, there would have been no difference between us. I’ll tell you how I lost the ring and rod and I’ll go with you and show you where Lug Longhand lives. But do you come to my castle. We’ll have a good time together.”They set out next day, and never stopped till they came opposite Lug Longhand castle, and Cucúlin challenged his forces to combat.“I have no forces,” said Lug, “but I’ll fight you myself.” So the combat began, and they spent the whole day at one another, and neither gained the victory.The king of Greece himself put up a tent on the green in front of the castle, and prepared everything necessary to eat and drink (there was no one else to do it). After breakfast next day, Cucúlin and Lug began fighting again. The king of Greece looked on as the day before.They fought the whole day till near evening, when Cucúlin got the upper hand of Lug Longhand and bound him head and heels, saying: “I’ll cut the head off you now unless you give me the rod and the ring that you carried away from the king of Greece.”“Oh, then,” said Lug, “it would be hard for me to give them to you or to him; for forces came and took them from me; and they would have taken them from you and from him, if you had been here.”“Who in the world took them from you?” asked the king of Greece.“Release me from this bond, and come to my castle, and I’ll tell you the whole story,” said Lug Longhand.Cucúlin released him, and they went to the castle. They got good reception and entertainment from Lug that night, and the following morning as well. He said: “The ring and the rod were taken from me by the knight of the island of the Flood. This island is surrounded by a chain, and there is a ring of fire seven miles wide between the chain and the castle. No man can come near the island without breaking the chain, and the moment the chain is broken the fire stops burning at that place; and the instant the fire goes down the knight rushes out and attacks and slays every man that’s before him.” The king of Greece, Cucúlin, and Lug Longhand now sailed on in the speckled boat towards the island of the Flood. On the following morning when the speckled boat struck the chain, she was thrown back three days’ sail, and was near being sunk, and would have gone to the bottom of the sea but for her own goodness and strength.As soon as Cucúlin saw what had happened, he took the oars, rowed on again, and drove the vessel forward with such venom that she cut through the chain and went one third of her length on to dry land. That moment the fire was quenched where the vessel struck, and when the knight of the Island saw the fire go out, he rushed to the shore and met Cucúlin, the king of Greece, and Lug Longhand.When Cucúlin saw him, he threw aside his weapons, caught him, raised him above his head, hurled him down on the flat of his back, bound him head and heels, and said: “I’ll cut the head off you unless you give me the ring and the rod that you carried away from Lug Longhand.”“I took them from him, it’s true,” said the knight; “but it would be hard for me to give them to you now; for a man came and took them from me, who would have taken them from you and all that are with you, and as many more if they had been here before him.”“Who in the world could that man be?” asked Cucúlin.“The Dark Gruagach of the Northern Island. Release me, and come to my castle. I’ll tell you all and entertain you well.”He took them to his castle, gave them good cheer, and told them all about the Gruagach and his island. Next morning all sailed away in Cucúlin’s vessel, which they had left at the shore of the island, and never stopped till they came to the Gruagach’s castle, and pitched their tents in front of it.Then Cucúlin challenged the Gruagach. The others followed after to know would he thrive. The Gruagach came out and faced Cucúlin, and they began and spent the whole day at one another and neither of them gained the upper hand. When evening came, they stopped and prepared for supper and the night.Next day after breakfast Cucúlin challenged the Gruagach again, and they fought till evening; when Cucúlin got the better in the struggle, disarmed the Gruagach, bound him, and said: “Unless you give up the rod of enchantment and the ring of youth that you took from the knight of the island of the Flood, I’ll cut the head off you now.”“I took them from him, ’tis true; but there was a man named Thin-in-Iron, who took them from me, and he would have taken them from you and from me, and all that are here, if there were twice as many. He is such a man that sword cannot cut him, fire cannot burn him, water cannot drown him, and ’tis no easy thing to get the better of him. But if you’ll free me now and come to my castle, I’ll treat you well and tell you all about him.” Cucúlin agreed to this.Next morning they would not stop nor be satisfied till they went their way. They found the castle of Thin-in-Iron, and Cucúlin challenged him to combat. They fought; and he was cutting the flesh from Cucúlin, but Cucúlin’s sword cut no flesh from him. They fought till Cucúlin said: “It is time now to stop till to-morrow.”Cucúlin was scarcely able to reach the tent. They had to support him and put him to bed. Now, who should come to Cucúlin that night but Gil an Og, and she said: “You have gone further than any man before you, and I’ll cure you now, and you need go no further for the rod of enchantment and the ring of youth.”“Well,” said Cucúlin, “I’ll never give over till I knock another day’s trial out of Thin-in-Iron.”When it was time for rest, Gil an Og went away, and Cucúlin fell asleep for himself. On the following morning all his comrades were up and facing his tent. They thought to see him dead, but he was in as good health as ever.They prepared breakfast, and after breakfast Cucúlin went before the door of the castle to challenge his enemy.Thin-in-Iron thrust his head out and said: “That man I fought yesterday has come again to-day. It would have been a good deed if I had cut the head off him last night. Then he wouldn’t be here to trouble me this morning. I won’t come home this day till I bring his head with me. Then I’ll have peace.”They met in combat and fought till the night was coming. Then Thin-in-Iron cried out for a cessation, and if he did, Cucúlin was glad to give it; for his sword had no effect upon Thin-in-Iron except to tire and nearly kill him (he was enchanted and no arms could cut him). When Thin-in-Iron went to his castle, he threw up three sups of blood, and said to his housekeeper: “Though his sword could not penetrate me, he has nearly broken my heart.”Cucúlin had to be carried to his tent. His comrades laid him on his bed and said: “Whoever came and healed him yesterday, may be the same will be here to-night.” They went away and were not long gone when Gil an Og came and said: “Cucúlin, if you had done my bidding, you wouldn’t be as you are to-night. But if you neglect my words now, you’ll never see my face again. I’ll cure you this time and make you as well as ever;” and whatever virtue she had she healed him so he was as strong as before.“Oh, then,” said Cucúlin, “whatever comes on me I’ll never turn back till I knock another day’s trial out of Thin-in-Iron.”“Well,” said she, “you are a stronger man than he, but there is no good in working at him with a sword. Throw your sword aside to-morrow, and you’ll get the better of him and bind him. You’ll not see me again.”She went away and he fell asleep. His comrades came in the morning and found him sleeping. They got breakfast, and, after eating, Cucúlin went out and called a challenge.“Oh, ’tis the same man as yesterday,” said Thin-in-Iron, “and if I had cut the head off him then, it wouldn’t be he that would trouble me to-day. If I live for it, I’ll bring his head in my hand to-night, and he’ll never disturb me again.”When Cucúlin saw Thin-in-Iron coming, he threw his sword aside, and facing him, caught him by the body, raised him up, then dashed him to the ground, and said, “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll cut the head off you.”“What do you want of me?” asked Thin-in-Iron.“I want the rod of enchantment and the ring of youth you carried from the Gruagach.”“I did indeed carry them from him, but it would be no easy thing for me to give them to you or any other man; for a force came which took them from me.”“What could take them from you?” asked Cucúlin.“The queen of the Wilderness, an old hag that has them now. But release me from this bondage and I’ll take you to my castle and entertain you well, and I’ll go with you and the rest of the company to see how will you thrive.”So he took Cucúlin and his friends to the castle and entertained them joyously, and he said: “The old hag, the queen of the Wilderness, lives in a round tower, which is always turning on wheels. There is but one entrance to the tower, and that high above the ground, and in the one chamber in which she lives, keeping the ring and the rod, is a chair, and she has but to sit on the chair and wish herself in any part of the world, and that moment she is there. She has six lines of guards protecting her tower, and if you pass all of these, you’ll do what no man before you has done to this day. The first guards are two lions that rush out to know which of them will get the first bite out of the throat of any one that tries to pass. The second are seven men with iron hurlies and an iron ball, and with their hurlies they wallop the life out of any man that goes their way. The third is Hung-up-Naked, who hangs on a tree with his toes to the earth, his head cut from his shoulders and lying on the ground, and who kills every man who comes near him. The fourth is the bull of the Mist that darkens the woods for seven miles around, and destroys everything that enters the Mist. The fifth are seven cats with poison tails; and one drop of their poison would kill the strongest man.”Next morning all went with Cucúlin as far as the lions who guarded the queen of the Wilderness, an old hag made young by the ring of youth. The two lions ran at Cucúlin to see which would have the first bite out of him.Cucúlin wore a red silk scarf around his neck and had a fine head of hair. He cut the hair off his head and wound it around one hand, took his scarf and wrapped it around the other. Then rushing at the lions, he thrust a hand down the throat of each lion (for lions can bite neither silk nor hair). He pulled the livers and lights out of the two and they fell dead before him. His comrades looking on, said: “You’ll thrive now since you have done this deed;” and they left him and went home, each to his own country.Cucúlin went further. The next people he met were the seven men with the iron hurlies (ball clubs), and they said; “‘Tis long since any man walked this way to us; we’ll have sport now.”The first one said: “Give him a touch of the hurly and let the others do the same; and we’ll wallop him till he is dead.”Now Cucúlin drew his sword and cut the head off the first man before he could make an offer of the hurly at him; and then he did the same to the other six.He went on his way till he came to Hung-up-Naked, who was hanging from a tree, his head on the ground near him. The queen of the Wilderness had fastened him to the tree because he wouldn’t marry her; and she said: “If any man comes who will put your head on you, you’ll be free.” And she laid the injunction on him to kill every man who tried to pass his way without putting the head on him.Cucúlin went up, looked at him, and saw heaps of bones around the tree. The body said: “You can’t go by here. I fight with every man who tries to pass.”“Well, I’m not going to fight with a man unless he has a head on him. Take your head.” And Cucúlin, picking up the head, clapped it on the body, and said, “Now I’ll fight with you!”The man said: “I’m all right now. I know where you are going. I’ll stay here till you come; if you conquer you’ll not forget me. Take the head off me now; put it where you found it; and if you succeed, remember that I shall be here before you on your way home.”Cucúlin went on, but soon met the bull of the Mist that covered seven miles of the wood with thick mist. When the bull saw him, he made at him and stuck a horn in his ribs and threw him three miles into the wood, against a great oak tree and broke three ribs in his side.“Well,” said Cucúlin, when he recovered, “if I get another throw like that, I’ll not be good for much exercise.” He was barely on his feet when the bull was at him again; but when he came up he caught the bull by both horns and away they went wrestling and struggling. For three days and nights Cucúlin kept the bull in play, till the morning of the fourth day, when he put him on the flat of his back. Then he turned him on the side, and putting a foot on one horn and taking the other in his two hands, he said: “‘Tis well I earned you; there is not a stitch on me that isn’t torn to rags from wrestling with you.” He pulled the bull asunder from his horns to his tail, into two equal parts, and said: “Now that I have you in two, it’s in quarters I’ll put you.” He took his sword, and when he struck the backbone of the bull, the sword remained in the bone and he couldn’t pull it out.He walked away and stood awhile and looked. “‘Tis hard to say,” said he, “that any good champion would leave his sword behind him.” So he went back and made another pull and took the hilt off his sword, leaving the blade in the back of the bull. Then he went away tattered and torn, the hilt in his hand, and he turned up towards the forge of the Strong Smith. One of the Smith’s boys was out for coal at the time: he saw Cucúlin coming with the hilt in his hand, and ran in, saying: “There is a man coming up and he looks like a fool; we’ll have fun!”“Hold your tongue!” said the master. “Have you heard any account of the bull of the Mist these three days?”“We have not,” said the boys.“Perhaps,” said the Strong Smith, “that’s a good champion that’s coming, and do you mind yourselves.”At that moment Cucúlin walked in to the forge where twelve boys and the master were working. He saluted them and asked, “Can you put a blade in this hilt?”“We can,” said the master. They put in the blade. Cucúlin raised the sword and took a shake out of it and broke it to bits.“This is a rotten blade,” said he. “Go at it again.”They made a second blade. The boys were in dread of him now. He broke the second blade in the same way as the first. They made six blades, one stronger than the other. He did the same to them all. “There is no use in talking,” said the Strong Smith; “we have no stuff that would make a right blade for you. Go down now,” said he to two of the boys, “and bring up an old sword that’s down in the stable full of rust.”They went and brought up the sword on two hand-spikes between them; it was so heavy that one couldn’t carry it. They gave it to Cucúlin, and with one blow on his heel he knocked the dust from it and went out at the door and took a shake out of it; and if he did, he darkened the whole place with the rust from the blade.“This is my sword, whoever made it,” said he.“It is,” said the master; “it’s yours and welcome. I know who you are now, and where you are going. Remember that I’m in bondage here.” The Strong Smith took Cucúlin then to his house, gave him refreshment and clothes for the journey. When he was ready, the Smith said: “I hope you’ll thrive. You have done a deal more than any man that ever walked this way before. There is nothing now to stand in your way till you come to the seven cats outside the turning tower. If they shake their tails and a drop of poison comes on you, it will penetrate to your heart. You must sweep off their tails with your sword. ‘Tis equal to you what their bodies will do after that.”Cucúlin soon came to them and there wasn’t one of the seven cats he didn’t strip of her tail before she knew he was in it. He cared nothing for the bodies so he had the tails. The cats ran away.Now he faced the tower turning on wheels. The queen of the Wilderness was in it. He had been told by Thin-in-Iron that he must cut the axle. He found the axle, cut it, and the tower stopped that instant. Cucúlin made a spring and went in through the single passage.The old hag was preparing to sit on the chair as she saw him coming. He sprang forward, pushed the chair away with one hand, and, catching her by the back of the neck with the other, said: “You are to lose your head now, old woman!”“Spare me, and what you want you’ll get,” said she. “I have the ring of youth and the rod of enchantment,” and she gave them to him. He put the ring on his finger, and saying, “You’ll never do mischief again to man!” he turned her face to the entrance, and gave her a kick. Out she flew through the opening and down to the ground, where she broke her neck and died on the spot.Cucúlin made the Strong Smith king over all the dominions of the queen of the Wilderness, and proclaimed that any person in the country who refused to obey the new king would be put to death.Cucúlin turned back at once, and travelled till he came to Hung-up-Naked. He took him down, and putting the head on his body, struck him a blow of the rod and made the finest looking man of him that could be found. The man went back to his own home happy and well.Cucúlin never stopped till he came to the castle of Gil an Og. She was outside with a fine welcome before him; and why not, to be sure, for he had the rod of enchantment and the ring of youth!When she entered the castle and took the form of a cat, he struck her a blow of the rod and she gained the same form and face she had before the king of Greece struck her. Then he asked, “Where is your sister?” “In the lake there outside,” answered Gil an Og, “in the form of a sea-serpent.” She went out with him, and the moment they came to the edge of the lake the sister rose up near them. Then Cucúlin struck her with the rod and she came to land in her own shape and countenance.Next day they saw a deal of vessels facing the harbor, and what should they be but a fleet of ships, and on the ships were the king of Greece, Lug Longhand, the knight of the island of the Flood, the Dark Guagach of the Northern Island and Thin-in-Iron: and they came each in his own vessel to know was there any account of Cucúlin. There was good welcome for them all, and when they had feasted and rejoiced together Cucúlin married Gil an Og. The king of Greece took Gil an Og’s sister, who was his own wife at first, and went home.Cucúlin went away himself with his wife Gil an Og, never stopping till he came to Erin; and when he came, Fin MacCumhail and his men were at KilConaly, near the river Shannon.When Cucúlin went from Erin he left a son whose mother was called the Virago of Alba: she was still alive and the son was eighteen years old. When she heard that Cucúlin had brought Gil an Og to Erin, she was enraged with jealousy and madness. She had reared the son, whose name was Conlán, like any king’s son, and now giving him his arms of a champion she told him to go to his father.“I would,” said he, “if I knew who my father is.”“His name is Cucúlin, and he is with Fin MacCumhail. I bind you not to yield to any man,” said she to her son, “nor tell your name to any man till you fight him out.”Conlán started from Ulster where his mother was, and never stopped till he was facing Fin and his men, who were hunting that day along the cliffs of KilConaly.When the young man came up Fin said, “There is a single man facing us.”Conan Maol said, “Let some one go against him, ask who he is and what he wants.”“I never give an account of myself to any man,” said Conlán, “till I get an account from him.”“There is no man among us,” said Conan, “bound in that way but Cucúlin.” They called on Cucúlin; he came up and the two fought. Conlán knew by the description his mother had given that Cucúlin was his father, but Cucúlin did not know his son. Every time Conlán aimed his spear he threw it so as to strike the ground in front of Cucúlin’s toe, but Cucúlin aimed straight at him.They were at one another three days and three nights. The son always sparing the father, the father never sparing the son.Conan Maol came to them the fourth morning. “Cucúlin,” said he, “I didn’t expect to see any man standing against you three days, and you such a champion.”When Conlán heard Conan Maol urging the father to kill him, he gave a bitter look at Conan, and forgot his guard. Cucúlin’s spear went through his head that minute, and he fell. “I die of that blow from my father,” said he.“Are you my son?” said Cucúlin.“I am,” said Conlán.Cucúlin took his sword and cut the head off him sooner than leave him in the punishment and pain he was in. Then he faced all the people, and Fin was looking on.“There’s trouble on Cucúlin,” said Fin. “Chew your thumb,” said Conan Maol, “to know what’s on him.”Fin chewed his thumb, and said, “Cucúlin is after killing his own son, and if I and all my men were to face him before his passion cools, at the end of seven days, he’d destroy every man of us.”“Go now,” said Conan, “and bind him to go down to Bale strand and give seven days’ fighting against the waves of the sea, rather than kill us all.”So Fin bound him to go down. When he went to Bale strand Cucúlin found a great white stone. He grasped his sword in his right hand and cried out: “If I had the head of the woman who sent her son into peril of death at my hand, I’d split it as I split this stone,” and he made four quarters of the stone. Then he strove with the waves seven days and nights till he fell from hunger and weakness, and the waves went over him.
It is a well-known fact that the cruel man is generally his own hangman; and he who throws stones at Heaven frequently comes off with a broken head. But the reverse of the medal shows us that innocence is a shield of fig-tree wood, upon which the sword of malice is broken, or blunts its point; so that, when a poor man fancies himself already dead and buried, he revives again in bone and flesh, as you shall hear in the story which I am going to draw from the cask of memory with the tap of my tongue.There was once a great Lord, who, having a daughter born to him named Talia, commanded the seers and wise men of his kingdom to come and tell him her fortune; and after various counsellings they came to the conclusion, that a great peril awaited her from a piece of stalk in some flax. Thereupon he issued a command, prohibiting any flax or hemp, or such-like thing, to be brought into his house, hoping thus to avoid the danger.When Talia was grown up, and was standing one day at the window, she saw an old woman pass by who was spinning. She had never seen a distaff or a spindle, and being vastly pleased with the twisting and twirling of the thread, her curiosity was so great that she made the old woman come upstairs. Then, taking the distaff in her hand, Talia began to draw out the thread, when, by mischance, a piece of stalk in the flax getting under her finger-nail, she fell dead upon the ground; at which sight the old woman hobbled downstairs as quickly as she could.When the unhappy father heard of the disaster that had befallen Talia, after weeping bitterly, he placed her in that palace in the country, upon a velvet seat under a canopy of brocade; and fastening the doors, he quitted for ever the place which had been the cause of such misfortune to him, in order to drive all remembrance of it from his mind.Now, a certain King happened to go one day to the chase, and a falcon escaping from him flew in at the window of that palace. When the King found that the bird did not return at his call, he ordered his attendants to knock at the door, thinking that the palace was inhabited; and after knocking for some time, the King ordered them to fetch a vine-dresser’s ladder, wishing himself to scale the house and see what was inside. Then he mounted the ladder, and going through the whole palace, he stood aghast at not finding there any living person. At last he came to the room where Talia was lying, as if enchanted; and when the King saw her, he called to her, thinking that she was asleep, but in vain, for she still slept on, however loud he called. So, after admiring her beauty awhile, the King returned home to his kingdom, where for a long time he forgot all that had happened.Meanwhile, two little twins, one a boy and the other a girl, who looked like two little jewels, wandered, from I know not where, into the palace and found Talia in a trance. At first they were afraid because they tried in vain to awaken her; but, becoming bolder, the girl gently took Talia’s finger into her mouth, to bite it and wake her up by this means; and so it happened that the splinter of flax came out. Thereupon she seemed to awake as from a deep sleep; and when she saw those little jewels at her side, she took them to her heart, and loved them more than her life; but she wondered greatly at seeing herself quite alone in the palace with two children, and food and refreshment brought her by unseen hands.After a time the King, calling Talia to mind, took occasion one day when he went to the chase to go and see her; and when he found her awakened, and with two beautiful little creatures by her side, he was struck dumb with rapture. Then the King told Talia who he was, and they formed a great league and friendship, and he remained there for several days, promising, as he took leave, to return and fetch her.When the King went back to his own kingdom he was for ever repeating the names of Talia and the little ones, insomuch that, when he was eating he had Talia in his mouth, and Sun and Moon (for so he named the children); nay, even when he went to rest he did not leave off calling on them, first one and then the other.Now the King’s stepmother had grown suspicious at his long absence at the chase, and when she heard him calling thus on Talia, Sun, and Moon, she waxed wroth, and said to the King’s secretary, “Hark ye, friend, you stand in great danger, between the axe and the block; tell me who it is that my stepson is enamoured of, and I will make you rich; but if you conceal the truth from me, I’ll make you rue it.”The man, moved on the one side by fear, and on the other pricked by interest, which is a bandage to the eyes of honour, the blind of justice, and an old horse-shoe to trip up good faith, told the Queen the whole truth. Whereupon she sent the secretary in the King’s name to Talia, saying that he wished to see the children. Then Talia sent them with great joy, but the Queen commanded the cook to kill them, and serve them up in various ways for her wretched stepson to eat.Now the cook, who had a tender heart, seeing the two pretty little golden pippins, took compassion on them, and gave them to his wife, bidding her keep them concealed; then he killed and dressed two little kids in a hundred different ways. When the King came, the Queen quickly ordered the dishes served up; and the King fell to eating with great delight, exclaiming, “How good this is! Oh, how excellent, by the soul of my grandfather!” And the old Queen all the while kept saying, “Eat away, for you know what you eat.” At first the King paid no attention to what she said; but at last, hearing the music continue, he replied, “Ay, I know well enough what I eat, for YOU brought nothing to the house.” And at last, getting up in a rage, he went off to a villa at a little distance to cool his anger.Meanwhile the Queen, not satisfied with what she had done, called the secretary again, and sent him to fetch Talia, pretending that the King wished to see her. At this summons Talia went that very instant, longing to see the light of her eyes, and not knowing that only the smoke awaited her. But when she came before the Queen, the latter said to her, with the face of a Nero, and full of poison as a viper, “Welcome, Madam Sly-cheat! Are you indeed the pretty mischief-maker? Are you the weed that has caught my son’s eye and given me all this trouble.”When Talia heard this she began to excuse herself; but the Queen would not listen to a word; and having a large fire lighted in the courtyard, she commanded that Talia should be thrown into the flames. Poor Talia, seeing matters come to a bad pass, fell on her knees before the Queen, and besought her at least to grant her time to take the clothes from off her back. Whereupon the Queen, not so much out of pity for the unhappy girl, as to get possession of her dress, which was embroidered all over with gold and pearls, said to her, “Undress yourself—I allow you.” Then Talia began to undress, and as she took off each garment she uttered an exclamation of grief; and when she had stripped off her cloak, her gown, and her jacket, and was proceeding to take off her petticoat, they seized her and were dragging her away. At that moment the King came up, and seeing the spectacle he demanded to know the whole truth; and when he asked also for the children, and heard that his stepmother had ordered them to be killed, the unhappy King gave himself up to despair.He then ordered her to be thrown into the same fire which had been lighted for Talia, and the secretary with her, who was the handle of this cruel game and the weaver of this wicked web. Then he was going to do the same with the cook, thinking that he had killed the children; but the cook threw himself at the King’s feet and said, “Truly, sir King, I would desire no other sinecure in return for the service I have done you than to be thrown into a furnace full of live coals; I would ask no other gratuity than the thrust of a spike; I would wish for no other amusement than to be roasted in the fire; I would desire no other privilege than to have the ashes of the cook mingled with those of a Queen. But I look for no such great reward for having saved the children, and brought them back to you in spite of that wicked creature who wished to kill them.”When the King heard these words he was quite beside himself; he appeared to dream, and could not believe what his ears had heard. Then he said to the cook, “If it is true that you have saved the children, be assured I will take you from turning the spit, and reward you so that you shall call yourself the happiest man in the world.”As the King was speaking these words, the wife of the cook, seeing the dilemma her husband was in, brought Sun and Moon before the King, who, playing at the game of three with Talia and the other children, went round and round kissing first one and then another. Then giving the cook a large reward, he made him his chamberlain; and he took Talia to wife, who enjoyed a long life with her husband and the children, acknowledging that—“He who has luck may go to bed,And bliss will rain upon his head.”
The great god Odin was the father of all the gods. He and his children dwelt in the city of Asgard at the end of the rainbow.Odin’s palace was as high as the sky and roofed with pure silver. In it was a throne of gold. When Odin sat upon the throne he could see all over the world.Each day he sat upon the throne to see if everything was as it should be on the earth. He loved the people and the animals, and all the beautiful things of earth because they were the work of his hands.Odin had two ravens which were as swift as thought. Every day he sent the ravens to fly over the oceans and over the land to see if any harm was being done. When they came back they perched upon his shoulders and whispered in his ear all that they had seen.Besides this there was a watchman who never slept. He was called Heimdal, the white god. He stayed always at the foot of the rainbow, which was the bridge of the gods, to see that the frost giants did not come into Asgard, and to listen to the sounds of earth. So sharp were his ears that he could hear the grass and the wool on the sheep’s backs growing.One day when Odin mounted his throne he saw that the earth was no longer green and beautiful. The air was full of snowflakes and the ground was as hard, as iron. All was dark and cold.The ravens, which had been sent out to see if all was well, came hurrying back to tell Odin that Hoder, the blind old god of darkness, had taken possession of the earth.Heimdal, the watchman, called that he could, no longer hear the music of the waterfalls and birds, and all the pleasant sounds of earth. Everything was mute with fear of the terrible god of darkness.Odin called the gods together, and they looked with pity on the great earth, which had been so pleasant a place.Thor, the strong god, offered to go with his hammer and fight with the god of darkness, but Odin knew that Hoder could hide himself away from Thor.Then Balder, the Beautiful, the god of light, whom all the gods loved, offered to go. So Odin gave him his winged horse, Sleipner, and he rode away across the rainbow bridge.As soon as the light of Balder’s shining eyes fell upon the poor, cold earth, it brightened and stirred. But the old, blind god Hoder brought all his forces of darkness to resist the god of light, and the earth lay as if dead.Balder struck no blows as Thor, the strong god, wished to do. He did not even try to resist the god of darkness. He only smiled upon the earth and called to it to awake.At last the blind god turned and fled before the light of Balder’s face. Then the streams leaped up and sang, and the birds came back and the flowers bloomed.Everywhere the grass and the waving grain sprang up beneath Balder’s footsteps, and the trees put out their gayest blossoms to greet him.The squirrels and rabbits came out of the places where they had hidden themselves and danced and frisked with joy. Never had the earth been so beautiful.But Hoder, the blind god, in his realm of darkness, was only waiting for an opportunity to take possession of the earth again. So Odin permitted Balder’s mother to cross the rainbow bridge to help her son.The goddess went through all the earth, begging each plant and stone and tree not to harm her son, who had brought them nothing but blessings. And every tree and shrub and tiny plant, and every rock and pebble, and every stream and little brook promised gladly. Only the mistletoe, which grows high up in the oak-tree and not upon the ground as other plants do, was forgotten.Loke, who was a meddlesome god, always doing something wrong, found out that the mistletoe had not given the promise, and told Hoder.Hoder thought that because it was so little and weak it could not really kill the god. So he shot an arrow tipped with a tiny twig of mistletoe at Balder.The arrow pierced through and through the beautiful god, and he fell dead. Then the earth put off her green robe and grew silent and dark for a time.But because Balder, the Beautiful, had once lived on earth, Hoder could only make it cold half the year and dark half the day.And even now, if you listen, in the winter you can hear the wind moan through the trees which fling their great arms in grief. And on summer mornings very early, you will find the stones and the grass wet with weeping in the darkness.But when the sun shines the tears are turned to diamonds and the earth is glad, remembering Balder the Good.I heard a voice, that cried,“Balder the BeautifulIs dead, is dead!”And through the misty airPassed like the mournful cryOf sunward-sailing cranes.Balder the Beautiful,God of the summer sun,Fairest of all the Gods!Light from his forehead beamed,Eunes were upon his tongue,As on the warrior’s sword.All things in earth and airBound were by magic spellNever to do him harm;Even the plants and stones,All save the mistletoe,The sacred mistletoe!Hoder, the blind old God,Whose feet are shod with silence,Pierced through that gentle breastWith his sharp spear by fraudMade of the mistletoe,The accursed mistletoe!” – Longfellow
A little back from the high road there stands a house which is called ‘Hemgard.’ Perhaps you remember the two beautiful mountain ash trees by the reddish-brown palings, and the high gate, and the garden with the beautiful barberry bushes which are always the first to become grown in spring, and which in summer are weighed down with their beautiful berries.Behind the garden there is a hedge with tall aspens which rustle in the morning wind, behind the hedge is a road, behind the road is a wood, and behind the wood the wide world.But on the other side of the garden there is a lake, and beyond the lake is a village, and all around stretch meadows and fields, now yellow, now green.In the pretty house, which has white window-frames, a neat porch and clean steps, which are always strewn with finely-cut juniper leaves, Walter’s parents live. His brother Frederick, his sister Lotta, old Lena, Jonah, Caro and Bravo, Putte and Murre, and Kuckeliku.Caro lives in the dog house, Bravo in the stable, Putte with the stableman, Murre a little here and a little there, and Kuckeliku lives in the hen house, that is his kingdom.Walter is six years old, and he must soon begin to go to school. He cannot read yet, but he can do many other things. He can turn cartwheels, stand on his head, ride see-saw, throw snowballs, play ball, crow like a cock, eat bread and butter and drink sour milk, tear his trousers, wear holes in his elbows, break the crockery in pieces, throw balls through the windowpanes, draw old men on important papers, walk over the flower-beds, eat himself sick with gooseberries, and be well after a whipping. For the rest he has a good heart but a bad memory, and forgets his father’s and his mother’s admonitions, and so often gets into trouble and meets with adventures, as you shall hear, but first of all I must tell you how brave he was and how he hunted wolves.Once in the spring, a little before Midsummer, Walter heard that there were a great many wolves in the wood, and that pleased him. He was wonderfully brave when he was in the midst of his companions or at home with his brothers and sister, then he used often to say ‘One wolf is nothing, there ought to be at least four.’When he wrestled with Klas Bogenstrom or Frithiof Waderfelt and struck them in the back, he would say ‘That is what I shall do to a wolf!’ and when he shot arrows at Jonas and they rattled against his sheepskin coat he would say: ‘That is how I should shoot you if you were a wolf!’Indeed, some thought that the brave boy boasted a little; but one must indeed believe him since he said so himself. So Jonas and Lena used to say of him ‘Look, there goes Walter, who shoots the wolves.’ And other boys and girls would say ‘Look, there goes brave Walter, who is brave enough to fight with four.’There was no one so fully convinced of this as Walter himself, and one day he prepared himself for a real wolf hunt. He took with him his drum, which had holes in one end since the time he had climbed up on it to reach a cluster of rowan berries, and his tin sabre, which was a little broken, because he had with incredible courage fought his way through a whole unfriendly army of gooseberry bushes.He did not forget to arm himself quite to the teeth with his pop- gun, his bow, and his air-pistol. He had a burnt cork in his pocket to blacken his moustache, and a red cock’s feather to put in his cap to make himself look fierce. He had besides in his trouser pocket a clasp knife with a bone handle, to cut off the ears of the wolves as soon as he had killed them, for he thought it would be cruel to do that while they were still living.It was such a good thing that Jonas was going with corn to the mill, for Walter got a seat on the load, while Caro ran barking beside them. As soon as they came to the wood Walter looked cautiously around him to see perchance there was a wolf in the bushes, and he did not omit to ask Jonas if wolves were afraid of a drum. ‘Of course they are’ (that is understood) said Jonas. Thereupon Walter began to beat his drum with all his might while they were going through the wood.When they came to the mill Walter immediately asked if there had been any wolves in the neighbourhood lately.‘Alas! yes,’ said the miller, ‘last night the wolves have eaten our fattest ram there by the kiln not far from here.’‘Ah!’ said Walter, ‘do you think that there were many?’‘We don’t know,’ answered the miller.‘Oh, it is all the same,’ said Walter. ‘I only asked so that I should know if I should take Jonas with me.‘I could manage very well alone with three, but if there were more, I might not have time to kill them all before they ran away.’‘In Walter’s place I should go quite alone, it is more manly,’ said Jonas.‘No, it is better for you to come too,’ said Walter. ‘Perhaps there are many.’‘No, I have not time,’ said Jonas, ‘and besides, there are sure not to be more than three. Walter can manage them very well alone.’‘Yes,’ said Walter, ‘certainly I could; but, you see, Jonas, it might happen that one of them might bite me in the back, and I should have more trouble in killing them. If I only knew that there were not more than two I should not mind, for them I should take one in each hand and give them a good shaking, like Susanna once shook me.’‘I certainly think that there will not be more than two,’ said Jonas, ‘there are never more than two when they slay children and rams; Walter can very well shake them without me.’‘But, you see, Jonas,’ said Walter, ‘if there are two, it might still happen that one of them escapes and bites me in the leg, for you see I am not so strong in the left hand as in the right. You can very well come with me, and take a good stick in case there are really two. Look, if there is only one, I shall take him so with both my hands and thrown him living on to his back, and he can kick as much as he likes, I shall hold him fast.’‘Now, when I really think over the thing,’ said Jonas, ‘I am almost sure there will not be more than one. What would two do with one ram? There will certainly not be more than one.’‘But you should come with me all the same, Jonas,’ said Walter. ‘You see I can very well manage one, but I am not quite accustomed to wolves yet, and he might tear holes in my new trousers.’‘Well, just listen,’ said Jonas, ‘I am beginning to think that Walter is not so brave as people say. First of all Walter would fight against four, and then against three, then two, and then one, and now Walter wants help with one. Such a thing must never be; what would people say? Perhaps they would think that Walter is a coward?’‘That’s a lie,’ said Walter, ‘I am not at all frightened, but it is more amusing when there are two. I only want someone who will see how I strike the wolf and how the dust flies out of his skin.’‘Well, then, Walter can take the miller’s little Lisa with him. She can sit on a stone and look on,’ said Jonas.‘No, she would certainly be frightened,’ said Walter, ‘and how would it do for a girl to go wolf-hunting? Come with me, Jonas, and you shall have the skin, and I will be content with the ears and the tail.’‘No, thank you,’ said Jonas, ‘Walter can keep the skin for himself. Now I see quite well that he is frightened. Fie, shame on him!’This touched Walter’s pride very near. ‘I shall show that I am not frightened,’ he said; and so he took his drum, sabre, cock’s feather, clasp-knife, pop-gun and air-pistol, and went off quite alone to the wood to hunt wolves.It was a beautiful evening, and the birds were singing in all the branches. Walter went very slowly and cautiously. At every step he looked all round him to see if perchance there was anything lurking behind the stones. He quite thought something moved away there in the ditch. Perhaps it was a wolf. ‘It is better for me to beat the drum a little before I go there,’ thought Walter.Br-r-r, so he began to beat his drum. Then something moved again. Caw! caw! a crow flew up from the ditch. Walter immediately regained courage. ‘It was well I took my drum with me,’ he thought, and went straight on with courageous steps. Very soon he came quite close to the kiln, where the wolves had killed the ram. But the nearer he came the more dreadful he thought the kiln looked. It was so gray and old. Who knew how many wolves there might be hidden there? Perhaps the very ones which killed the ram were still sitting there in a corner. Yes, it was not at all safe here, and there were no other people to be seen in the neighbourhood. It would be horrible to be eaten up here in the daylight, thought Walter to himself; and the more he thought about it the uglier and grayer the old kiln looked, and the more horrible and dreadful it seemed to become the food of wolves.‘Shall I go back and say that I struck one wolf and it escaped?’ thought Walter. ‘Fie!’ said his conscience, ‘Do you not remember that a lie is one of the worst sins, both in the sight of God and man? If you tell a lie to-day and say you struck a wolf, to- morrow surely it will eat you up.’‘No, I will go to the kiln,’ thought Walter, and so he went. But he did not go quite near. He went only so near that he could see the ram’s blood which coloured the grass red, and some tufts of wool which the wolves had torn from the back of the poor animal.It looked so dreadful.‘I wonder what the ram thought when they ate him up,’ thought Walter to himself; and just then a cold shiver ran through him from his collar right down to his boots.‘It is better for me to beat the drum,’ he thought to himself again, and so he began to beat it. But it sounded horrid, and an echo came out from the kiln that seemed almost like the howl of a wolf. The drumsticks stiffened in Walter’s hands, and he thought now they are coming. …!Yes, sure enough, just then a shaggy, reddish-brown wolf’s head looked out from under the kiln!What did Walter do now? Yes, the brave Walter who alone could manage four, threw his drum far away, took to his heels and ran, and ran as fast as he could back to the mill.But, alas! the wolf ran after him. Walter looked back; the wolf was quicker than he and only a few steps behind him. Then Walter ran faster. But fear got the better of him, he neither heard nor saw anything more. He ran over sticks, stones and ditches; he lost drum-sticks, sabre, bow, and air-pistol, and in his terrible hurry he tripped over a tuft of grass. There he lay, and the wolf jumped on to him. …It was a gruesome tale! Now you may well believe that it was all over with Walter and all his adventures. That would have been a pity. But do not be surprised if it was not quite so bad as that, for the wolf was quite a friendly one. He certainly jumped on to Walter, but he only shook his coat and rubbed his nose against his face; and Walter shrieked. Yes, he shrieked terribly!Happily Jonas heard his cry of distress, for Walter was quite near the mill now, and he ran and helped him up.‘What has happened?’ he asked. ‘Why did Walter scream so terribly?’‘A wolf! A wolf!’ cried Walter, and that was all he could say.‘Where is the wolf?’ said Jonas. ‘I don’t see any wolf.’‘Take care, he is here, he has bitten me to death,’ groaned Walter.Then Jonas began to laugh; yes, he laughed so that he nearly burst his skin belt.Well, well, was that the wolf? Was that the wolf which Walter was to take by the neck and shake and throw down on its back, no matter how much it struggled? Just look a little closer at him: he is your old friend, your own good old Caro. I quite expect he found a leg of the ram in the kiln. When Walter beat his drum, Caro crept out, and when Walter ran away, Caro ran after him, as he so often does when Walter wants to romp and play.‘Down, Caro! you ought to be rather ashamed to have put such a great hero to flight!’Walter got up feeling very foolish.‘Down, Caro!’ he said, both relieved and annoyed.‘It was only a dog, then if it had been a wolf I certainly should have killed him. …’‘If Walter would listen to my advice, and boast a little less, and do a little more,’ said Jonas, consolingly. ‘Walter is not a coward, is he?’‘I! You shall see, Jonas, when we next meet a bear. You see I like so much better to fight with bears.’‘Indeed!’ laughed Jonas. ‘Are you at it again?‘Dear Walter, remember that it is only cowards who boast; a really brave man never talks of his bravery.’
There was once a Padishah who had forty sons, and they spent the whole day in the forest, hunting and snaring birds. When the youngest had completed his fourteenth year their father thought it was time they were getting married, so he called them together and spoke to them about the matter, “We are willing to marry,” said the forty brothers, “but only if we can meet with forty sisters all having the same father and mother.” The Padishah therefore sought throughout his dominions for such a family, but in vain: the greatest number of sisters in all the land was thirty-nine. “The fortieth will have to take another,” said the Padishah to his sons. But they refused to agree to that, and begged their father to allow them to travel in foreign countries to seek the desired brides. What was the Padishah to do? As he could not dissuade them, he grudgingly granted their request. Before they set out, however, the Padishah said to them: “There are three things which you must bear well in mind. When you reach a large spring, do not spend the night anywhere near it. Farther on is a hân; do not spend the night there, either. Beyond the hân is a great plain; do not linger there a moment.” The sons, promising to remember their father’s advice, mounted their steeds and rode away.Smoking and talking, they wended their forward course, and as evening drew on they came to the spring.“Now we take not a single step farther,” observed the eldest. “We are fatigued and it is night. Besides, what have forty men to fear?”So they alighted, ate their supper, and lay down to rest. The youngest, the fourteen-year-old brother, kept watch, however. Towards midnight he heard a rustling sound. Cautiously he drew his weapon, and as the sound came nearer he saw a seven-headed dragon. Both beast and youth rushed to attack one another. Three times the dragon wrestled with the youth, but could obtain no advantage over him.“Now it is my turn,” cried the Prince, and with these words he struck the dragon such a powerful blow that six heads fell from his body.“Strike once more,” gasped the dragon. “Not I,” returned the youth. The dragon sank to the earth, and behold! one of his heads began to roll, and it rolled and rolled till it reached a well. “Let him who has taken my life, take also my treasure,” said the head as it fell down the well.The youth now took a rope, bound one end to a rock, and with it let himself down the well. At the bottom he found an iron gate. Opening it and entering, he saw a palace even more beautiful than that of his father. In the palace were forty apartments, and in each apartment sat a maiden at an embroidery table, near which immense treasures were piled up.“Are you a man or a jin?” asked the terror-stricken maidens. “I am a human being,” answered the Prince. “I killed the seven-headed dragon and came to this place by following one of his rolling heads.” Now the forty maidens rejoiced. They all embraced him and begged him to remain with them. Incidentally they informed him that they were forty sisters whom the dragon had stolen. He had killed their parents, and now they had not a single friend or relation in the wide world.“We are forty brothers,” said the Prince, “and seek forty maidens.” Then he told them he must ascend to his brothers, but that soon he would come again to fetch them away. He came up from the well and went to the spring, where he lay down and fell asleep.Early next morning when the forty brothers awoke, they began to laugh at their father’s attempt to frighten them about the spring. They set off again and continued their way until evening, when behold! the hân their father had mentioned stood before them. “We go no farther tonight ” said the elder Princes. The youngest, however, expressed the opinion that it might be well to follow their father’s advice, but the others would not listen to him. They ate their supper, said their prayers, and lay down, but the youngest kept watch as before.Towards midnight he again heard a noise. With his drawn sword in hand, the young Prince found himself confronting another seven-headed dragon, larger and more frightful than the one he had slain the day before. The dragon straightway attacked the youth, but without effect; then the youth fell on the dragon so furiously that six of his seven heads fell. The monster begged for another blow as a coup de grâce, but the Prince declined. As on the previous occasion one of the heads rolled into a well. The youth followed it and discovered a larger palace and greater treasures. Noting the place, he returned to his brothers, lay down, and fell asleep so soundly after the fatigues of his combat that his brothers had to rouse him next morning.Mounting their horses again they pursued their journey up hill and down dale until by sunset they had reached a great plain. They ate and drank, and were just going to lie down when suddenly an awful shriek was heard and the mountains seemed to quake. Terror seized every one as they caught sight of a gigantic seven-headed dragon, spitting fire and roaring: “Who has killed my two brothers? Bring him to me that I may slay him!”The youngest saw plainly that all his brothers were paralysed with fear and unable to do anything. He delivered to them the keys of both wells, telling them to take home the forty maidens and the treasure. He promised that when he had killed the dragon he would follow them. The thirty-nine sprang on their horses and rode away.Now we will return to the youngest.The conflict between the Prince and the dragon was a stern one, and they fought a long time without either overcoming the other. When the dragon realized that the struggle was in vain he said to the Prince: “If you will go to the land of Chinimatchin and bring me the Padishah’s daughter, I will spare your life.” The Prince consented to the condition, for he was too exhausted to continue the combat any longer.Champalak–as the dragon was called–gave the Prince a bridle and instructed him as follows: “Every day a magic horse, Ajgyr, grazes here: Catch him, put this bridle on him, and command him to take you to the land of Chinimatchin.”“The golden-hued steed came flying through the air.” Illustration by Willy Pogany, published in Forty-four Turkish Fairy Tales by Dr. Ignácz Kenos (193), George C. Harrap and Co.So the youth took the bridle and waited for the magic horse. The golden-hued steed came flying through the air, and no sooner was the bridle laid upon him than he said: “Command me, little Sultan! Shut your eyes–open your eyes!” and behold there was the youngest Prince in the far-off land of Chinimatchin! He alighted from the horse, took off the bridle, and walked into the city.Entering an old woman’s hut, he asked whether she could find him lodgings. “Willingly,” answered the old woman. She offered him a seat, and prepared some coffee. While he was drinking he made inquiries as to the condition of the country.“A seven-headed dragon,” said the old woman, “has fallen violently in love with our Sultan’s daughter. For years there has been war on her account and we cannot get rid of the monster.” “And the Sultan’s daughter?” questioned the Prince. “She inhabits a kiosk in the Padishah’s garden,” answered the old woman, “and away from it she dares not stir a step.”Next day the Prince went to the Padishah’s garden and asked the gardener to take him into his service. He begged so earnestly that at length the man took pity upon him. “you have no other duty but to water the flowers,” said the gardener. The Sultan’s daughter saw the young man, and she called him to the window, asking him how he came to be in that land. The young man told her that his father was a Padishah, and then he described his fight with Champalak, and how he had promised to bring him the Sultan’s daughter. “But fear not,” continued the Prince, “my love is much greater than that of the dragon, and if you will come with me, I know how to destroy him.”The maiden had herself fallen in love with the handsome Prince, and moreover wished to escape from her constant imprisonment. Her trust in the Prince was so great that one night they left the kiosk together in secret and repaired to Champalak’s plain. On the way they discussed what the maiden might do to discover the dragon’s talisman, for through that talisman the Prince meant to destroy the monster.We may imagine Champalak’s joy when he saw the Sultan’s daughter before him. “What happiness that you have come! What happiness that you have come!” he repeated again and again, as he caressed the Princess, who was weeping all the time. Days and weeks elapsed, but the Princess never dried her tears. “If you would at least tell me what your talisman is,” she said one day to the dragon, “perhaps my days would not be quite so wearisome.” “My darling,” replied the dragon, “it is guarded in a place impossible of access. In a certain country there is a large palace and whoever gets into it never gets out again.” This was all the Prince needed to know. He took his bridle, threw it in the sea, and the golden-hued steed appeared.“What is your command, little Sultan?”“To the palace of the dragon’s talisman!”“Shut your eyes–open your eyes!” and there he was at the palace. As the Prince dismounted, the magic horse said to him:“Fasten my bridle to the iron rings at the palace gate. When I neigh once, knock the rings together and the gate will open. The gate is a lion’s jaw, and if you can cut it asunder with a single blow of your sword, you are safe. Otherwise your last hour has come.”Accordingly the Prince fastened the magic horse to the rings, and when it neighed the gate opened. The Prince struck the gaping jaws of the lion a stout blow and split the creature asunder. This done he cut open its stomach, and took therefrom a cage containing three doves, so beautiful that their equals had never been seen before. Taking one in his hand he stroked its plumage, caressed it, and p-r-rr! it suddenly flew away. If the magic horse had not quickly flown after it, caught it, and wrung its neck, the Prince would never have met his ladylove again.Now he remounted his magic horse. “Shut your eyes–open your eyes!” and he found himself once more at Champalak’s palace. At the gate the youth killed the other two doves, and as he went in the dragon fell an inert mass to the floor. Seeing the dead doves in the Prince’s hand he implored him to let him stroke them once more before he died. The youth, seized with pity, was about to offer the birds to the dragon when the Sultan’s daughter ran in and tore them away. Upon this the dragon perished miserably. “Fortunate it was for you,” said the magic horse, “that you did not give him the birds; new life for him was in their touch.” As there was no further use for it, the bridle now disappeared, and with it the magic horse.The Prince and the Sultan’s daughter gathered together all the Dragon’s treasures and bore them to the land of Chinimatchin.The Padishah had become quite ill through worrying about the disappearance of his daughter. Search had been made for her throughout the length and breadth of his dominions, but as she could not be found the Padishah had come to the conclusion that she had fallen into the power of the dragon. When the Princess appeared again safe and sound, he gladly gave her in marriage to the Prince, and the wedding was celebrated with great rejoicings. After the honeymoon they set out, with a brilliant retinue of soldiers, for the palace of the Prince’s father. The Prince was thought to have died long ago, and his claim to be indeed the Prince would hardly have been accepted, had he not related the story of the three dragons and the forty sisters. His thirty-nine brothers married thirty-nine of the sisters, the fortieth becoming the wife of the Princess of Chinimatchin’s brother, and henceforth they all lived in the greatest happiness.
A Tortoise desired to change its place of residence, so he asked an Eagle to carry him to his new home, promising her a rich reward for her trouble. The Eagle agreed and seizing the Tortoise by the shell with her talons soared aloft. On their way they met a Crow, who said to the Eagle: “Tortoise is good eating.” “The shell is too hard,” said the Eagle in reply. “The rocks will soon crack the shell,” was the Crow’s answer; and the Eagle, taking the hint, let fall the Tortoise on a sharp rock, and the two birds made a hearty meal of the Tortoise. Never soar aloft on an enemy’s pinions.
Once there lived a peasant who had a good dog, and as the dog grew old it left off barking and guarding the yard and the storehouses : its master would no longer nourish it, so the dog went into the wood and lay under a tree to die. Then a bear came up and asked him, “Hello, Dog, why are you lying here?” “I have come to die of hunger. You see how unjust people are. As long as you have any strength, they feed you and give you drink ; but when your strength dies away and you become old they drive you from the courtyard.” “Well, Dog, would you like something to eat?” “I certainly should.” “Well, come with me ; I will feed you.” So they went on. On the way a foal met them. “Look at me,” said the bear, and he began to claw the ground with his paws. “Dog, O dog! ” “What do you want?” “Look, are my eyes beautiful?” “Yes, Bear, they are beautiful.” So the bear began clawing at the ground more savagely still. “Dog, O dog, is my hair disheveled?” “It is dishevelled, Bear.” “Dog, O dog, is my tail raised?” “Yes, it is raised.” Then the bear laid hold of the foal by the tail, and the foal fell to the ground. The bear tore her to pieces and said, “Well, Dog, eat as much as you will, and when everything is in order, come and see me.” So the dog lived by himself and had no cares, and when he had eaten all and was again hungry, he ran to the bear. “Well, my brother, have you done ? ” “Yes, I have done, and again I am hungry.” “What ! Are you hungry again? Do you where your old mistress lives?” “Well, then, come ; I will steal your mistress’s child out of the cradle, and do you chase me away and take the child back. Then you may go back ; she will go on feeding you, as she formerly did, with bread.” So they agreed, and the bear ran up to the hut himself and stole the child out of the cradle : the child cried, and the woman burst out, hunted him, hunted him, but could not catch him ; so they came back, and the mother wept, and the other women were afflicted ; from somewhere or other the dog appeared, and he drove the bear away, took the child and brought it back. “Look,” said the woman, “here is your old dog restoring your child!” So they ran to meet him, andthe mother was very glad and joyous. “Now,” she said, “I shall never discharge this old dog any more.” So they took him in, fed him with milk, gave him bread, and asked him only to taste the things. And they told the peasant, “Now you must keep and feed the dog, for he saved my child from the bear ; and you were saying he had no strength!” This all suited the dog very well, and he ate his fill, and he said, “May God grant health to the bear who did not let me die of hunge ! ” and he became the bear’sbest friend. Once there was an evening party given at the peasant’s house. At that time the bear came in as the dog’s guest. “Hail, Dog, with what luck are you meeting ? Is it bread you are eating?” “Praise be to God,” answered the dog, “it is no mere living, it is butter week. And what are you doing ? Let us go into the izba (hut). The masters have gone out for a walk and will not see what you are doing. You come into the izba and go and hide under the stove as fast as you can. I will await you there and will recall you.” “Very well.” And so they went into the izba. The dog saw that his master’s guests had drunk too much, and made ready to receive his friend. The bear drank up one glass, then another, and broke it. The guests began singing songs, and the bear wanted to chime in. But the dog persuaded him : “Do not sing, it would only do harm.” But it was no good, for he could not keep the bear silent, and he began singing his song. Then the guests heard the noise, laid hold of a stick and began to beat him. He burst out and ran away, and just got away with his life. Now the peasant also had a cat, which had ceased catching mice, and even playing tricks. Wherever it might crawl it would break something or spill something. The peasant chased the cat out of the house. But the dog saw that it was going to a miserable life without any food, and secretly began bringing it bread and butter and feeding it. Then the mistress looked on, and as soon as she saw this she began beating the dog, beat it hard, very hard, and saying all the time, ” Give the catno beef, nor bread.” Then, three days later, the dog went to the courtyard and saw that the cat was dying of starvation. “What is the matter?” he said. “I am dying of starvation : I was able to have enough whilst you were feeding me.” “Come with me.” So they went away. The dog went on, until he saw a drove of horses, and he began to scratch the earth with his paws and asked the cat, ” Cat, O cat, are my eyes beautiful ? ” “No, they are not beautiful.” “Say that they are beautiful!” So the cat said, “They are beautiful.” “Cat, O cat, is my fur dishevelled?” “No it is not dishevelled.” “Say, you idiot, that it is dishevelled.” “Well, it is dishevelled.” “Cat, O cat, is my tail raised?” “No, it is not raised.” “Say, you fool, that it is raised.” Then the dog made a dash at a mare, but the mare kicked him back, and the dog died. So the cat said, ” Now I can see that his eyes are very red, and his fur is dishevelled, and his tail is raised. Good-bye, brother Dog, I will go home to die.” 
The Convent of Schwartz-Rheindorf was founded in the year of our Lord 1152 by the Bishop of Cologne, Arnold Graf von Wied, for the reception of noble ladies alone, and was placed by him under the strict rule of St. Benedict. The prelate, who died in the year 1159, lies buried beneath the high altar of the church.Among the many other rights and privileges conferred on the convent by the Bishop was the right of fishing in the river, within certain limits above and below the convent’s territorial boundaries. This was a most valuable right for a long period.It was, however, remarked that as the discipline of the convent became more and more relaxed, and grace grew to be less and less among its inmates, the fishing became more and more unprofitable. The sturgeon, it is true, still made their appearance, but they were spent and thin, and altogether unlike those which had been wont of yore to visit the fishing-ground of the sisterhood. The abbess and the nuns, however, either could not or they would not perceive the cause of the falling off in the take, or the change in the appearance of the sturgeon, but the common people who dwelt in the vicinity of the convent, and especially those poor persons to whom the river had been heretofore a source of support, were neither slow in seeing the cause nor in publishing the consequences to the world. Thus stood matters: dissoluteness of life on the one hand, distress on the other; profligacy and poverty, extravagance and starvation, linked inseparably together.It was midwinter. On the bank of the river stood the purveyor of the convent, accompanied by the lady abbess herself and a great number of the nuns. They waited to watch the first haul made by the fishermen on the New Year’s morning, according to the custom which had prevailed in the convent for centuries. It was not usual for the river to be open at that time, but this year there was not a piece of ice on its surface. The fishermen put out in their boats, and cast their nets into the current; then, making the circuit of the spot, they returned to the bank and commenced to haul them in. Little difficulty was at first experienced by them in this operation. For several years preceding the supply of fish had scarcely sufficed to defray the expense of catching. It would seem, however, as if fortune were inclined to smile on the sisterhood once more. The nets had not been more than half drawn in when the fishermen began to perceive that they contained something heavier than usual. The lady abbess and the nuns were made acquainted with the circumstance, and they watched, in eager expectancy, the landing of the fish. The nets were at length with much trouble hauled on shore.“Hilloa!” said the principal fisherman, an aged man, to the purveyor of the convent, “hast thou ever seen such monsters before? My soul! but this will glad the hearts of the whole convent, and make many poor folk happy, an it be but the harbinger of a return to the old times.”While he spoke two immense sturgeon were landed. The abbess and her train approached the landing-place, and admired the strength and superior size of the fish.“It would be but folly to set one of them free,” she partially soliloquised and partially spoke to the purveyor. “The convent has not had such a treat for years past, and we absolutely require some change. I’ll warrant me they will eat delightfully.”The purveyor, a wily Jewish-looking fellow, who passed for an Italian, at once assented to the observations of his mistress, and added a few remarks of his own in support of them. Not so, however, the old fisherman, who overheard the conversation, having approached the abbess with the purveyor to learn her will and pleasure as to the disposal of the fish.“Nay, nay, master,” he interposed, in his rough way, “not so fast, not so fast. My father fished on this river for full fifty years, and my father’s father did the same; and fifty years have I drawn net here too, all in the service of the noble ladies of Schwartz-Rheindorf. Never, in that time, knew I other than this done with these fish—the one to be let free, the other to be given away among the poor. I’ll do nought else with them.”The abbess and the purveyor were but ill-pleased to hear what the old man said.“You must do as I bid you, Herman,” said the former.“You must obey my lady, your mistress,” echoed the latter. “She is too good and gracious to ye.”“Not I,” said the old man bluntly,—”not I. For all the broad lands on the Rhine I would not have hand, act, nor part in such a matter. Do as ye list, but I’ll be none your servant in the matter.”The old man walked away as he said these words, and neither the entreaties of the abbess, the threats of the purveyor, nor the interposition of some of the nuns present could bring him back.Others, however, were soon found among his companions who were less scrupulous; and the two fish were accordingly removed to the convent, and consigned to the care of the cook, to be served up for dinner that day.The dinner-hour arrived—the sisterhood were all seated at table—the servitors, marshalled by the supple purveyor, made their appearance, bearing the expected banquet in large covered dishes. A hasty grace was muttered, and then every eye was turned to the covers. The abbess had ordered the sturgeon to be served up first.“And now, sisters,” she said, with a complacent look of benignant condescension, “I hope soon to know how you approve of our dinner. It is my constant study to make you happy, and my efforts are unceasing to afford you every gratification in my power. Let us begin.”“How is this, villain?” exclaimed the abbess, her face reddening with rage.“How’s this, villain?” echoed threescore female voices, some of them not musical.“Ay, how is this, hound?” growled the purveyor.“Do you mock us?” continued the abbess, as the cook stood trembling and silent.“Do you mock us?” echoed the purveyor, with as much dignity as he could impart into his thin, meagre figure.“Speak!” said the abbess in a loud voice, while the cook cast his eyes around as if seeking aid against the excited throng the room contained,—”speak!”Thus urged, the cook proceeded to explain—as far, at least, as he was able. He declared that he had cut up and cooked the sturgeon, according to the directions he had received from the purveyor, and that, when dinner was served up, he had sent them up dressed in the manner that official had directed.The abbess and her nuns were much puzzled how to explain this extraordinary occurrence, and each busied herself in conjectures which, as usual in such cases, never approached the fact. At this juncture the aged fisherman entered the room.“My lady,” he said to the abbess, when he learnt what had occurred, “it is the judgment of Heaven. Even now I saw the fish in the river. I knew them well, and I’ll swear to them if necessary. They floated away, swimming down the stream, and I am a much mistaken man if ever ye see them any more.”The pleasurable anticipations of the day that the sisters had entertained were completely annihilated; but it would have been well for them if the consequences of their avarice and gluttony had ended with that hour. Never more did the sturgeon make their appearance, and the part of the stream which pertained to the convent thenceforth ceased to produce fish of any kind whatsoever.People say that the Reformation had the effect of wooing the finny tribe back to their old haunts. At all events, whatever may have been the cause, it is the fact that there is not at present a less plentiful supply in this spot than there is in any other part of that rich river.
Bright and early the next morning the children were playing on the bank of “The River That Scolds the Other,” when Fine Bow said:“Let us find a Deer’s foot, and the foot of an Antelope and look at them, for to-night grandfather will tell us why the Deer has the dew-claws, and why the Antelope has none.”“Yes, and let us ask mother if the Deer has no gall on its liver. Maybe she can show both the liver of a Deer and that of an Antelope; then we can see for ourselves,” said Blue-bird.So they began to look about where the hides had been grained for tanning; and sure enough, there were the feet of both the antelope and the deer. On the deer’s feet, or legs, they found the dew-claws, but on the antelope there were none. This made them all anxious to know why these animals, so nearly alike, should differ in this way.Bluebird’s mother passed the children on her way to the river for water, and the little girl asked: “Say, mother, does the Deer have gall on his liver?”“No, my child, but the Antelope does; and your grandfather will tell you why if you ask him.”That night in the lodge War Eagle placed before his grandchildren the leg of a deer and the leg of an antelope, as well as the liver of a deer and the liver of an antelope.“See for yourselves that this thing is true, before I tell you why it is so, and how it happened.”“We see,” they replied, “and to-day we found that these strange things are true, but we don’t know why, grandfather.”“Of course you don’t know why. Nobody knows that until he is told, and now I shall tell you, so you will always know, and tell your children, that they, too, may know.“It was long, long ago, of course. All these things happened long ago when the world was young, as you are now. It was on a summer morning, and the Deer was travelling across the plains country to reach the mountains on the far-off side, where he had relatives. He grew thirsty, for it was very warm, and stopped to drink from a water-hole on the plains. When he had finished drinking he looked up, and there was his own cousin, the Antelope, drinking near him.“‘Good morning, cousin,’ said the Deer. ‘It is a warm morning and water tastes good, doesn’t it?’“‘Yes,’ replied the Antelope, ‘it is warm to-day, but I can beat you running, just the same.’“‘Ha-ha!’ laughed the Deer — ‘you beat me running? Why, you can’t run half as fast as I can, but if you want to run a race let us bet something. What shall it be?’“‘I will bet you my gall-sack,’ replied the Antelope.“‘Good,’ said the Deer, ‘but let us run toward that range of mountains, for I am going that way, anyhow, to see my relations.’“‘All right,’ said the Antelope. ‘All ready, and here we go.’“Away they ran toward the far-off range. All the way the Antelope was far ahead of the Deer; and just at the foot of the mountains he stopped to wait for him to catch up.“Both were out of breath from running, but both declared they had done their best, and the Deer, being beaten, gave the Antelope his sack of gall.“‘This ground is too flat for me,’ said the Deer. ‘Come up the hillside where the gulches cut the country, and rocks are in our way, and I will show you how to run. I can’t run on flat ground. It’s too easy for me.’“‘All right,’ replied the Antelope, ‘I will run another race with you on your own ground, and I think I can beat you there, too.’“Together they climbed the hill until they reached a rough country, when the Deer said:“‘This is my kind of country. Let us run a race here. Whoever gets ahead and stays there, must keep on running until the other calls on him to stop.’“‘That suits me,’ replied the Antelope, ‘but what shall we bet this time? I don’t want to waste my breath for nothing. I’ll tell you — let us bet our dew-claws.’“‘Good. I’ll bet you my dew-claws against your own, that I can beat you again. Are you all ready? — Go!’“Away they went over logs, over stones and across great gulches that cut the hills in two. On and on they ran, with the Deer far ahead of the Antelope. Both were getting tired, when the Antelope called:“‘Hi, there — you! Stop, you can beat me. I give up.’“So the Deer stopped and waited until the Antelope came up to him, and they both laughed over the fun, but the Antelope had to give the Deer his dew-claws, and now he goes without himself. The Deer wears dew-claws and always will, because of that race, but on his liver there is no gall, while the Antelope carries a gallsack like the other animals with cloven hoofs.“That is all of that story, but it is too late to tell you another to-night. If you will come to-morrow evening, I will tell you of some trouble that Old-man got into once. He deserved it, for he was wicked, as you shall see. Ho!”
Once upon a time there was a road, and every one who travelled along it died. Some folk said they were killed by a snake, others said by a scorpion, but certain it is they all died.Now a very old man was travelling along the road, and being tired, sat down on a stone to rest; when suddenly, close beside him, he saw a scorpion as big as a cock, which, while he looked at it, changed into a horrible snake. He was wonderstruck, and as the creature glided away, he determined to follow it at a little distance, and so find out what it really was.So the snake sped on day and night, and behind it followed the old man like a shadow. Once it went into an inn, and killed several travellers; another time it slid into the King’s house and killed him. Then it crept up the waterspout to the Queen’s palace, and killed the King’s youngest daughter. So it passed on, and wherever it went the sound of weeping and wailing arose, and the old man followed it, silent as a shadow.Suddenly the road became a broad, deep, swift river, on the banks of which sat some poor travellers who longed to cross over, but had no money to pay the ferry. Then the snake changed into a handsome buffalo, with a brass necklace and bells round its neck, and stood by the brink of the stream. When the poor travellers saw this, they said, ‘This beast is going to swim to its home across the river; let us get on its back, and hold on to its tail, so that we too shall get over the stream.’Then they climbed on its back and held by its tail, and the buffalo swam away with them bravely; but when it reached the middle, it began to kick, until they tumbled off, or let go, and were all drowned.When the old man, who had crossed the river in a boat, reached the other side, the buffalo had disappeared, and in its stead stood a beautiful ox. Seeing this handsome creature wandering about, a peasant, struck with covetousness, lured it to his home. It was very gentle, suffering itself to be tied up with the other cattle; but in the dead of night it changed into a snake, bit all the flocks and herds, and then, creeping into the house, killed all the sleeping folk, and crept away. But behind it the old man still followed, as silent as a shadow.Presently they came to another river, where the snake changed itself into the likeness of a beautiful young girl, fair to see, and covered with costly jewels. After a while, two brothers, soldiers, came by, and as they approached the girl, she began to weep bitterly.‘What is the matter?’ asked the brothers; ‘and why do you, so young and beautiful, sit by the river alone?’Then the snake-girl answered, ‘My husband was even now taking me home; and going down to the stream to look for the ferry-boat, fell to washing his face, when he slipped in, and was drowned. So I have neither husband nor relations!’‘Do not fear!’ cried the elder of the two brothers, who had become enamoured of her beauty; ‘come with me, and I will marry you.’‘On one condition,’ answered the girl: ‘you must never ask me to do any household work; and no matter for what I ask, you must give it me.’‘I will obey you like a slave!’ promised the young man.‘Then go at once to the well, and fetch me a cup of water. Your brother can stay with me,’ quoth the girl.But when the elder brother had gone, the snake-girl turned to the younger, saying, ‘Fly with me, for I love you! My promise to your brother was a trick to get him away!’‘Not so!’ returned the young man; ‘you are his promised wife, and I look on you as my sister.’On this the girl became angry, weeping and wailing, until the elder brother returned, when she called out, ‘O husband, what a villain is here! Your brother asked me to fly with him, and leave you!’Then bitter wrath at this treachery arose in the elder brother’s heart, so that he drew his sword and challenged the younger to battle. Then they fought all day long, until by evening they both lay dead upon the field, and then the girl took the form of a snake once more, and behind it followed the old man silent as a shadow. But at last it changed into the likeness of an old white-bearded man, and when he who had followed so long saw one like himself, he took courage, and laying hold of the white beard, asked, ‘Who and what are you?’Then the old man smiled and answered, ‘Some call me the Lord of Death, because I go about bringing death to the world.’‘Give me death!’ pleaded the other, ‘for I have followed you far, silent as a shadow, and I am aweary.’But the Lord of Death shook his head, saying, ‘Not so! I only give to those whose years are full, and you have sixty years of life to come!’Then the old white-bearded man vanished, but whether he really was theLord of Death, or a devil, who can tell?
In the land of Annam there once dwelt a man named Su, who sailed the seas as a merchant. Once his ship was suddenly driven on a distant shore by a great storm. It was a land of hills broken by ravines and green with luxuriant foliage, yet he could see something along the hills which looked like human dwellings. So he took some food with him and went ashore. No sooner had he entered the hills than he could see at either hand the entrances to caves, one close beside the other, like a row of beehives. So he stopped and looked into one of the openings. And in it sat two ogres, with teeth like spears and eyes like fiery lamps. They were just devouring a deer.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback.}The merchant was terrified by this sight and turned to flee; but the ogres had already noticed him and they caught him and dragged him into their cave. Then they talked to each other with animal sounds, and were about to tear his clothes from his body and devour him. But the merchant hurriedly took a bag of bread and dried meat out and offered it to them. They divided it, ate it up and it seemed to taste good to them. Then they once more went through the bag; but he gestured with his hand to show them that he had no more.Then he said: “Let me go! Aboard my ship I have frying-pans and cooking-pots, vinegar and spices. With these I could prepare your food.”The ogres did not understand what he was saying, however, and were still ferocious. So he tried to make them understand in dumb show, and finally they seemed to get an idea of his meaning. So they went to the ship with him, and he brought his cooking gear to the cave, collected brush-wood, made a fire and cooked the remains of the deer. When it was done to a turn he gave them some of it to eat, and the two creatures devoured it with the greatest satisfaction. Then they left the cave and closed the opening with a great rock.In a short space of time they returned with another deer they had caught. The merchant skinned it, fetched fresh water, washed the meat and cooked several kettles full of it. Suddenly in came a whole herd of ogres, who devoured all he had cooked, and became quite animated over their eating. They all kept pointing to the kettle which seemed too small to them. When three or four days had passed, one of the ogres dragged in an enormous cooking-pot on his back, which was thenceforth used exclusively.Now the ogres crowded about the merchant, bringing him wolves and deer and antelopes, which he had to cook for them, and when the meat was done they would call him to eat it with them.Thus a few weeks passed and they gradually came to have such confidence in him that they let him run about freely. And the merchant listened to the sounds which they uttered, and learned to understand them. In fact, before very long he was able to speak the language of the ogres himself. This pleased the latter greatly, and they brought him a young ogre girl and made her his wife. She gave him valuables and fruit to win his confidence, and in course of time they grew much attached to each other.One day the ogres all rose very early, and each one of them hung a string of radiant pearls about his neck. They ordered the merchant to be sure and cook a great quantity of meat. The merchant asked his wife what it all meant.“This will be a day of high festival,” answered she, “we have invited the great king to a banquet.”But to the other ogres she said: “The merchant has no string of pearls!”Then each of the ogres gave him five pearls and his wife added ten, so that he had fifty pearls in all. These his wife threaded and hung the pearl necklace about his neck, and there was not one of the pearls which was not worth at least several hundred ounces of silver.Then the merchant cooked the meat, and having done so left the cave with the whole herd in order to receive the great king. They came to a broad cave, in the middle of which stood a huge block of stone, as smooth and even as a table. Round it were stone seats. The place of honor was covered with a leopard-skin, and the rest of the seats with deerskins. Several dozen ogres were sitting around the cave in rank and file.Suddenly a tremendous storm blew up, whirling around the dust in columns, and a monster appeared who had the figure of an ogre. The ogres all crowded out of the cave in a high state of excitement to receive him. The great king ran into the cave, sat down with his legs outstretched, and glanced about him with eyes as round as an eagle’s. The whole herd followed him into the cave, and stood at either hand of him, looking up to him and folding their arms across their breasts in the form of a cross in order to do him honor.The great king nodded, looked around and asked: “Are all the folk of the Wo-Me hills present?”The entire herd declared that they were.Then he saw the merchant and asked: “From whence does he hail?”His wife answered for him, and all spoke with praise of his art as a cook. A couple of ogres brought in the cooked meat and spread it out on the table. Then the great king ate of it till he could eat no more, praised it with his mouth full, and said that in the future they were always to furnish him with food of this kind.Then he looked at the merchant and asked: “Why is your necklace so short?”With these words he took ten pearls from his own necklace, pearls as large and round as bullets of a blunderbuss. The merchant’s wife quickly took them on his behalf and hung them around his neck; and the merchant crossed his arms like the ogres and spoke his thanks. Then the great king went off again, flying away like lightning on the storm.In the course of time heaven sent the merchant children, two boys and a girl. They all had a human form and did not resemble their mother. Gradually the children learned to speak and their father taught them the language of men. They grew up, and were soon so strong that they could run across the hills as though on level ground.One day the merchant’s wife had gone out with one of the boys and the girl and had been absent for half-a-day. The north wind was blowing briskly, and in the merchant’s heart there awoke a longing for his old home. He took his son by the hand and went down to the sea-shore. There his old ship was still lying, so he climbed into it with his boy, and in a day and a night was back in Annam again.When he reached home he loosened two of his pearls from his chain, and sold them for a great quantity of gold, so that he could keep house in handsome style. He gave his son the name of Panther, and when the boy was fourteen years of age he could lift thirty hundred weight with ease. Yet he was rough by nature and fond of fighting. The general of Annam, astonished at his bravery, appointed him a colonel, and in putting down a revolt his services were so meritorious that he was already a general of the second rank when but eighteen.At about this time another merchant was also driven ashore by a storm on the island of Wo-Me. When he reached land he saw a youth who asked him with astonishment: “Are you not from the Middle Kingdom?”The merchant told him how he had come to be driven ashore on the island, and the youth led him to a little cave in a secret valley. Then he brought deer-flesh for him to eat, and talked with him. He told him that his father had also come from Annam, and it turned out that his father was an old acquaintance of the man to whom he was talking.“We will have to wait until the wind blows from the North,” said the youth, “then I will come and escort you. And I will give you a message of greeting to take to my father and brother.”“Why do you not go along yourself and hunt up your father?” asked the merchant.“My mother does not come from the Middle Kingdom,” replied the youth. “She is different in speech and appearance, so it cannot well be.”One day the wind blew strongly from the North, and the youth came and escorted the merchant to his ship, and ordered him, at parting, not to forget a single one of his words.When the merchant returned to Annam, he went to the palace of Panther, the general, and told him all that had happened. When Panther listened to him telling about his brother, he sobbed with bitter grief. Then he secured leave of absence and sailed out to sea with two soldiers. Suddenly a typhoon arose, which lashed the waves until they spurted sky-high. The ship turned turtle, and Panther fell into the sea. He was seized by a creature and flung up on a strand where there seemed to be dwellings. The creature who had seized him looked like an ogre, so Panther addressed him in the ogre tongue. The ogre, surprised, asked him who he was, and Panther told him his whole story.The ogre was pleased and said: “Wo-Me is my old home, but it lies about eight thousand miles away from here. This is the kingdom of the poison dragons.”Then the ogre fetched a ship and had Panther seat himself in it, while he himself pushed the ship before him through the water so that it clove the waves like an arrow. It took a whole night, but in the morning a shoreline appeared to the North, and there on the strand stood a youth on look-out. Panther recognized his brother. He stepped ashore and they clasped hands and wept. Then Panther turned around to thank the ogre, but the latter had already disappeared.Panther now asked after his mother and sister and was told that both were well and happy, so he wanted to go to them with his brother. But the latter told him to wait, and went off alone. Not long after he came back with their mother and sister. And when they saw Panther, both wept with emotion. Panther now begged them to return with him to Annam.But his mother replied: “I fear that if I went, people would mock me because of my figure.”“I am a high officer,” replied Panther, “and people would not dare to insult you.”So they all went down to the ship together with him. A favorable wind filled their sails and they sped home swiftly as an arrow flies. On the third day they reached land. But the people whom they encountered were all seized with terror and ran away. Then Panther took off his mantle and divided it among the three so that they could dress themselves.When they reached home and the mother saw her husband again, she at once began to scold him violently because he had said not a word to her when he went away. The members of his family, who all came to greet the wife of the master of the house, did so with fear and trembling. But Panther advised his mother to learn the language of the Middle Kingdom, dress in silks, and accustom herself to human food. This she agreed to do; yet she and her daughter had men’s clothing made for them. The brother and sister gradually grew more fair of complexion, and looked like the people of the Middle Kingdom. Panther’s brother was named Leopard, and his sister Ogrechild. Both possessed great bodily strength.But Panther was not pleased to think that his brother was so uneducated, so he had him study. Leopard was highly gifted; he understood a book at first reading; yet he felt no inclination to become a man of learning. To shoot and to ride was what he best loved to do. So he rose to high rank as a professional soldier, and finally married the daughter of a distinguished official.It was long before Ogrechild found a husband, because all suitors were afraid of their mother-in-law to be. But Ogrechild finally married one of her brother’s subordinates. She could draw the strongest bow, and strike the tiniest bird at a distance of a hundred paces. Her arrow never fell to earth without having scored a hit.When her husband went out to battle she always accompanied him, and that he finally became a general was largely due to her. Leopard was already a field marshal at the age of thirty, and his mother accompanied him on his campaigns. When a dangerous enemy drew near, she buckled on armor, and took a knife in her hand to meet him in place of her son. And among the enemies who encountered her there was not a single one who did not flee from her in terror. Because of her courage the emperor bestowed upon her the title of “The Superwoman.”Note: The ogres here mentioned are the primitive inhabitants of the Island of Ceylon, also called Rakshas, who appear in legend as man-devouring monsters.
In the garden of a King’s palace there grew a wonderful apple-tree, which every year bore three golden apples. But up to the time my story begins, neither the King nor any of his family had ever tasted the fruit of this tree. “Why do we never eat of these golden apples?” asked the three Princes of their father one day, just as the fruit was ripening.Because,’ replied the King, ‘ as soon as the fruit is ripe, a Monster comes on three successive nights, and every night he takes an apple.’“If that is so,” declared the youths, “we three will watch the tree in turn, and prevent the Monster taking our fruit.”“Do as you will, my sons,” said the King, ‘”and may good luck attend you.'”So that same evening the eldest Prince hid himself in the garden near the apple-tree and there awaited the arrival of the Monster. As soon as the  palace clock had struck midnight he heard coming nearer and nearer sounds as of heavy feet tramping across the garden beds, with snortings and growlings; and the valiant Prince, frightened out of his wits, ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.In the morning, when his brothers asked him how he had sped with the Monster, he replied, “There was no Monster! I watched till long past midnight, but heard and saw nothing. Belike the Monster will not come again, and we shall now ourselves taste these apples.”But when the King went to look at the tree, lo! there were only two apples left, and all the grass and herbs all around the tree were crushed and trampled!That night the second Prince went to keep watch; but he proved no braver than his brother; and in the morning the King found only one apple left. Well, on the third evening, it was the turn of the youngest. He, however, did not hide himself, but laid him down on the grass at the foot of the apple-tree, and waited. And the roaring of the Monster did not frighten this brave youth in the least; for, as soon as he heard the noise of his tramping, up he jumped, and before the creature could come near the tree, aimed a javelin at him, and wounded him in the eye.Roaring frightfully, the Monster fell to the ground, but rose again and made off. The Prince, however, watched till dawn, and then, satisfied with his success, went home to bed. “Well,” asked his brothers when they met in the morning, “didst thou wound the Monster?”“That I did,”‘ he replied, ‘ I think I almost killed him. Take your javelins and come with me into the garden.”The two Princes followed him with mocking laughter; but when they came to the apple-tree they saw that their brother had really had an encounter with the terrible Monster, for the ground all about was reddened with blood, a long track of which showed which way the wounded creature had gone.“Let us follow this trail,’ said the youngest, “and we shall find out his lair. He led them out of the garden into the forest, and presently they came to a deep well, where the trail stopped. “He must have gone down this well to die,” said the eldest.“Tie your girdles together, fasten them to mine, and so long as I call out ‘Cold, Cold!’ let me slowly down; but when I say ‘Hot, Hot! ‘ pull me up again as fast as you can.”The others did as he bade them; but the eldest had hardly got half way down the well when he cried “Hot, Hot” and was drawn up again. The second Prince then offered to go down; but when he was near the bottom he, too, lost courage and cried to his brothers to pull him up.“Let me down now,’ said the youngest, and when I call “Cold, Cold!” you may pull me up. “He went down, and down, and still lower down, till at last he came quite to the bottom, and there, to his great surprise, he found himself in a strange and beautiful country, with tall, shady trees, flowery meadows, and running waters. Walking about here, he presently came to a splendid palace. The door stood wide open, but there was no one to be seen, neither man nor djin. He entered a wide marble hall, and after passing through several apartments, each more magnificent than the last, he came to one in which sat three maidens as beautiful as the Angels in Paradise.“Who art thou, stranger?” they asked him. Ladies, I am a King’s son, and I am come to seek the Monster who inhabits this country.”Then thou art welcome indeed. For we are three Princesses whom he took captive. But dost thou not fear him greatly? ‘ I fear neither man nor djiii,’ replied the youth, * and I will deliver you, or perish.’“Listen then, brave youth. The Monster is now lying down in the chamber hard by. If his eyes are shut, he is awake, and it is all up with thee. But if his eyes be open, he sleeps. Throw then thy javelin and slay him; but beware of throwing a second, for then he would again be whole, and we should all be lost.”The Prince hastened to the chamber the Princesses pointed out, found the Monster asleep with his remaining eye open, hurled his javelin, and wounded him in this eye also.“Listen, O man!” cried the creature as he was expiring. “If thou art mortal, throw another javelin at me, I pray thee!”“I was born only once, I have but one life, and I deal but one blow. Die, Monster, die!”When the Prince had made sure that the creature was really dead, he hastened with the good news to the Princesses, who, after praising his valour, led him to a table on which were dainties of all kinds, together with sweet wines and delicious fruits, and among the fruits were two golden apples which they placed before him. When they had eaten and drunk, said the youth, addressing the two elder maidens, ” Fair Princesses, when my brothers who are comely youths see you, each will, I am persuaded, desire to wed one of you. So, I beg of you to allow me to give to each of you a ring as a token of betrothal. I, being the youngest, would fain wed your youngest sister, if she desire me.”Well, the youngest Princess had already fallen in love with her handsome and heroic rescuer; and her sisters, deeming that his elder brothers could not be less worthy Princes than he, gladly consented. Having placed a ring on the hand of each, he led them out of the palace to the well-opening, at the top of which the elder Princes still waited, wondering why their brother tarried so long below. Our hero then tied the eldest Princess to the girdle which was still hanging down, called out  “Cold, Cold!” and the maiden was pulled up.The second followed, and then the youth said to the third, whom he had chosen for himself,  “Now it is your turn, my beloved. Fear naught, I will follow thee to the upper world.”“Thou art my betrothed,” she replied, “and I love thee. But I trust not thy brothers, and fear they may do thee an ill turn. Take, therefore, these three walnuts; each of them has within it a wonderful dress. One resembles the Sky with the Sun, Moon and Stars; another the Earth with her Trees and Flowers; and the third the Sea with its Shells and Fishes. Guard them well, for they may serve thee in time of need.”When the two elder Princesses appeared at the mouth of the well, the youths were amazed, and thought they had never seen such lovely maidens. But when the betrothed of their brother was drawn up they at once began to quarrel for her, while in the meantime the poor young Prince below was crying, “Cold, Cold!”The others, however, took no notice, but hurried the three Princesses away to the palace, telling them that they would send men to draw up their brother, as their arms were weary and they feared to let him fall. By and by the poor youth realised that his brothers had cruelly deserted him, and that he must achieve his own deliverance.So, leaving the well-bottom, and walking about in the country down below, he presently came upon an old gardener digging, and greeted him with “A good day to you, my good man!”“And a good day to you, young Sir, what can I do for you?”“I am lost in this country. Can you tell me how to find my way back to the upper world?”“Oh, I know a very easy way. Go to the other side of that little wood, and there you will find two rams grazing together, one white as snow, the other black as night. When you are come near them, shut your eyes, seize one of the rams and mount on his back. Should you have seized the white one, he will lead you to the upper earth; while the black will take you to a land still farther away from your own. But see that you open not your eyes again until you are come to one or the other. I wish you a good journey, young Sir!”“On the bank by sat a young maiden weeping.” Illustration by Charles Folkard, published in Ottoman Wonder Tales (1915), by Lucy Mary Jane Garnett, A and C Black, Limited.The King’s son did as he was directed, and soon found the two rams grazing together. But, alas! it was the black ram that he got hold of, and he felt that he was being carried swiftly down into a still lower world. When he opened his eyes again he found himself on the banks of a stream which, issuing from a cleft in the rock, flowed gently through the valley, and on the bank near by sat a young maiden weeping.“Who art thou, O lovely child?” he asked. “Alas! noble stranger, mine is a dreadful fate. A terrible Dragon has here his abode who lives on human flesh and blood. This stream is the only one in the land, and the Monster will allow none to take water from it unless a young maiden is given to him every day. Fate has so willed it that today my turn has come ; and I am waiting here until this frightful seven-headed Dragon comes to devour me.”“And whose child art thou, fair maiden?”“I am the King’s daughter, his only child; and my father is sorrowing in the palace, believing me, perhaps, already dead!”“Take courage, beautiful Princess! I am valiant, and I may be able to deliver you from the Dragon.”As he spoke, a frightful hissing noise was heard close at hand, and the Monster with seven heads  now appeared from behind a rock. On catching sight of the young hero, he stopped a moment as if startled, and the Prince, seeing his opportunity, hurled a javelin straight at his heart. A torrent of flame issued from his seven terrible mouths, together with a roar that shook the hills. But that was all; and the Monster, stretching his hideous length on the grass, lay there dead.“Farewell, my deliverer!” cried the maiden, as she hurried away, whilst the youth cut out the Dragon’s seven tongues to keep as a trophy. Then, fatigued by all his late exertions, he lay down at the foot of a tall tree and slept. Soon, however, he was awakened by the hiss of a serpent which was on the point of seizing a nestful of Eaglets perched on a branch above. With one javelin-stroke the reptile was killed as the Dragon had been, and the Prince went to sleep again.Soon afterwards the King of the Eagles arrived to seek his young ones. Seeing a youth stretched on the ground, he swooped down to tear him with beak and claw. But the Eaglets began to cry, “Father, father, see that you do him no harm!”“Why, my children?”“Because he saved us from the serpent which was going to devour us!”The King of the Eagles then spread his broad wings over the Prince and shaded him from the sun’s rays until he awoke. “Young man,’ then said the Golden Eagle, ‘ thou hast saved the lives of my little ones. Tell me how I can show my gratitude?”“I deserve less gratitude than you seem to think, noble Bird,” replied the Prince. “Anyone in my place would have done as much.”“Thou art a hero, “I say. “Speak! What shall I do for thee?”“Well, then, if thou art able, carry me up to my own land again. Alas! willingly would I do so; but the way is long, and with a man to carry I should die of hunger and thirst before reaching the upper earth.”“Could I not get provisions for the journey?”“Thou couldst but I should require forty sheep and forty skins of water. Where are they to be had? The King only could furnish them!”“Well, as I have just delivered his daughter from the Dragon, he will surely not refuse me such a gift. I will go and ask him.”“Go!” replied the Eagle, and I will await thee here.”So the Prince went into the city and inquired the way to the King’s palace. All the people were rejoicing, for the news had soon spread that a hero had slain the Dragon and delivered the Princess; and heralds had been sent out to proclaim that the King would give a rich reward to his daughter’s saviour. Already knights had ridden in claiming to have done the glorious deed, and after them came charcoal-burners who had found the dead Dragon in the wood and cut off his heads. “Tis we who have slain the Monster!” cried these, “and here are his heads to prove it!”“Nay,” said the knights, how could such as you have slain him? It is we who fought with the Dragon and left him dead by the spring. The reward is ours!”They are all telling lies,’ remarked the Princess. “My saviour was a handsome young hero, no doubt a stranger.”At this moment the real Dragon-slayer entered the Council Chamber, and approached the King. “Sire,’ said he, “I have killed the Dragon to whom you have hitherto paid the terrible tax of young maidens. Here are the creature’s seven tongues.”As he spoke the Princess threw her arms round his neck and cried, “Yes, yes, my father! This is indeed he who slew the Dragon, and all those men are but liars and impostors.”Then the King had the knights and charcoal- burners driven out, and, embracing the young Prince affectionately, he asked him, “Dost thou desire all my treasure, or the half of my kingdom? Or wilt thou wed my daughter and be King after me?”“Sire,’ replied the hero, “I also am a King’s son ; but my country is far away. I thank you for your princely offers. Your daughter is beautiful; but I am already betrothed. I will ask of you only forty sheep and forty skins of water. I require nothing more.”“If that is so, let it be as you desire,” said the King ; and he gave him all he had asked for, packed on the backs of forty mules. The Prince then returned to the Eagle, and when he had loaded his back with these provisions, the King of the Birds said, “Now we will set off. When I call Crak,  crak! thou must give me mutton; when I say Crouk, crouk! thou must give me water to drink ; if not I shall sink down again. Dost thou understand ? Yes ? Then get on my neck and let us start.”Well, the Eagle flew up, and up, and still higher up. Presently he cried “Crak, crak!” and the Prince gave him meat; then, “Crouk, crouk” and he gave him to drink. But the provisions were finished before they arrived at the opening which led to the upper earth. “Crak, crak! Crak, crak!” cried the Eagle once more. The youth made no reply, but, drawing his poniard, he cut a piece of flesh from his thigh and placed it in the Eagle’s beak.“This is human flesh,”said the bird to himself, and he kept the piece under his tongue. At last, towards evening, he set down the King’s son safely on the upper earth, in the garden of the palace.“Here you are at last! Walk now!” said the King of the Birds. But the Prince could not move, so painful was the wound in his leg. “Walk! I say,’ repeated the Eagle. Then the youth confessed that, having run out of meat, he had given him a piece from his own thigh.  “I knew it, and so I kept the piece under my tongue. Here it is!” and with this he put back the flesh in its proper place, and the wound immediately healed. The Eagle then took leave of the Prince and flew away back to his nest.“What am I to do now?” thought the youth. After reflecting a little, he waited until darkness had fallen, and then, without being seen by anyone, made his way to his own chamber. There he disguised himself as a working lad and set out for the shop of the King’s tailor.“I am a journeyman tailor,’ said he, when he had saluted the master, ‘ and I am in want of a job; ‘ Thou art come in a lucky hour, my lad, for my best workman died yesterday,’ returned the tailor. ‘ Go to the foreman and he will give thee work.’So the young Prince went into the workroom, sat himself down cross-legged on the vacant board, and stitched away diligently. In the meantime his brothers did nothing but quarrel for the hand of the youngest of the three Princesses; and at length, to put an end to the dispute, the King decided that his eldest son should marry her.“Well, said the maiden, “I will marry him, if your Majesty will give me three things as a wedding gift.”“And what are they?” asked the King. “Oh, merely three dresses. But one must be like the Sky, with the Sun, Moon and Stars; the second like the Earth with all her Trees and Flowers ; and the third like the Sea with all the Fishes that swim in it.”The King was rather taken aback; but all the same he promised that the Princess should have her wish. So the Court tailor was sent for, and received the order for the three dresses. The poor man returned bewildered to his shop, wondering how in the world he would be able to accomplish such a magnificent piece of work. Day after day he pondered, and all night long he dreamed of the dresses, but they were not a bit the nearer completion. At last he came to the conclusion that the task was an impossible one for him. His new journeyman, seeing him thus pensive, one day ventured to ask what ailed him.“My lad, the King has ordered me to make three magnificent dresses for the maiden our Prince is to marry; but my art is far below his Majesty’s requirements, and I fear that he will withdraw his patronage from me.”And he described to the youth the fashion of the robes required of him. “Is that all?” cried the pretended journeyman, laughing; “why, ’tis but child’s play!”“Child’s play! art mad, boy?”“No, master, I have all my five wits about me, and, what is more, I will soon make those dresses for you. So be of good cheer, master mine.”“Out with thee! Dost thou, who art but now out of thy ‘prenticeship, pretend to be a better workman than I the first master- craftsman of the country and the Court tailor to boot?”“Once more, my master, I say that I can make the three dresses.”“But when? in twenty years’ time?”No, this night tomorrow morning they will be ready!”“But where wilt find the stuffs?”‘“I will find them, never fear. Give me only a lamp, a bottle of wine, and a basket of nuts; leave me alone in my room, and come to me tomorrow morning at sunrise.”Well, the youth passed the night cracking his nuts and drinking his wine without troubling his  head about the dresses. At early dawn came the tailor and knocked at the door. “Are the dresses ready?” he asked anxiously. “Not quite, master mine. It is not yet sunrise.”Then the Prince opened the three walnuts the Princess had given him, and took out of them the three marvellous robes broidered with the Sky, the Earth, and the Sea, and spread them out on his bed.  “May I come in now?” asked the tailor. “Yes, master, come in, the dresses are ready!”When the good man saw the beauty of the stuffs he was thunderstruck, and thought that either he must be dreaming, or his new workman must be one of those djins of whose magical powers he had heard in so many wonderful stories. Coming to himself, however, he took the dresses and carried them to the palace. When the Princess saw them, she asked, “Who has been able to make such beautiful robes?”“My lady, not I, I must admit ; the credit belongs alone to a young workman of mine.”“I should like to see this clever youth. Go and bring him to the palace.”But when the pretended tailor was led into the presence of the Princess, what was his master’s amazement to see him, instead of humbly saluting her, take both her hands in his, and hear him say, “Is it indeed thou, my beloved one?” and to hear the Princess reply, “It is! it is! and I have waited for thee! But thy brothers..”“Never mind my brothers! I will tell everything to my father, and he will judge justly between us.”So they twain went to the King and told him all that had happened. And the King was so angered when he heard of the treachery of his two elder sons, that he would have killed them with his own hand had not the young couple interceded for them and begged that they might only be sent into exile. Well, now the troubles of the brave Prince were at an end, and on the very next day preparations were begun for his wedding, which was before long celebrated throughout the land with great feastings and rejoicings. This is the end of the story of the Three Wonderful Dresses.
 The cat and the mousePlay’d in the malt-house:The cat bit the mouse’s tail off. “Pray, puss, give me my tail.” “No,” says the cat, “I’ll not give you your tail, till you go to the cow, and fetch me some milk.” First she leapt and then she ran,Till she came to the cow, and thus began:“Pray, Cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “No,” said the cow, “I will give you no milk, till you go to the farmer, and get me some hay.” First she leapt, and then she ran,Till she came to the farmer and thus began:“Pray, Farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “No,” says the farmer, “I’ll give you no hay, till you go to the butcher and fetch me some meat.” First she leapt, and then she ran,Till she came to the butcher, and thus began:“Pray, Butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “No,” says the butcher, “I’ll give you no meat, till you go to the baker and fetch me some bread.” First she leapt and then she ran,Till she came to the baker, and thus began:“Pray, Baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butcher may give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.” “Yes,” says the baker, “I’ll give you some bread,But if you eat my meal, I’ll cut off your head.”Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, and butcher gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gave mouse hay, and mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mouse gave cat milk, and cat gave mouse her own tail again!
Author’s note: This story comes from SwedenJust on the Finland frontiers there is situated a high mountain, which, on the Swedish side, is covered with beautiful copsewood, and on the other with dark pine-trees, so closely ranked together, and so luxuriant in shade, that one might almost say the smallest bird could not find its way through the thickets. Below the copsewood there stands a chapel with the image of St. George, as guardian of the land and as a defence against dragons, if there be such, and other monsters of paganism, while, on the other side, on the borders of the dark firwood, are certain cottages inhabited by wicked sorcerers, who have, moreover, a cave cut so deep into the mountain that it joins with the bottomless abyss, whence come all the demons that assist them. The Swedish Christians who dwelt in the neighbourhood of this mountain thought it would be necessary, besides the chapel and statue of St. George, to choose some living protector, and therefore selected an ancient warrior, highly renowned for his prowess in the battle-field, who had, in his old age, become a monk. When this man went to take up his abode upon the mountains, his only son (for he had formerly lived as a married man in the world) would on no account leave him, but lived there also, assisting his father in his duties as watcher, and in the exercises of prayer and penitence, fully equalling the example that was now afforded him as he had formerly done his example as a soldier.The life led by those two valiant champions is said to have been most admirable and pious.Once on a time it happened that the young hero went out to cut wood in the forest. He bore a sharp axe on his shoulders, and was besides girded with a great sword; for as the woods were not only full of wild beasts, but also haunted by wicked men, the pious hermits took the precaution of always going armed. While the good youth was forcing his way through the thickest of the copsewood, and already beheld over it the pointed tops of the fir-trees (for he was close on the Finland frontier), there rushed out against him a great white wolf, so that he had only just time enough to leap to one side, and not being able immediately to draw his sword, he flung his axe at his assailant. The blow was so well aimed that it struck one of the wolf’s fore-legs, and the animal, being sorely wounded, limped back, with a yell of anguish, into the wood. The young hermit warrior, however, thought to himself—“It is not enough that I am rescued, but I must take such measures that no one else may in future be injured, or even terrified by this wild beast.”So he rushed in as fast as possible among the fir-trees, and inflicted such a vehement blow with his sword on the wolf’s head, that the animal, groaning piteously, fell to the ground. Hereupon there came over the young man all at once a strange mood of regret and compassion for his poor victim. Instead of putting it immediately to death, he bound up the wounds as well as he could with moss and twigs of trees, placed it on a sort of canvas sling on which he was in the habit of carrying great fagots, and with much labour brought it home, in hopes that he might be able at last to cure and tame his fallen adversary. He did not find his father in the cottage, and it was not without some fear and anxiety that he laid the wolf on his own bed, which was made of moss and rushes, and over which he had nailed St. George and the Dragon. He then turned to the fire-place of the small hut, in order to prepare a healing salve for the wounds. While he was thus occupied, how much was he astonished to hear the moanings and lamentations of a human voice from the bed on which he had just before deposited the wolf. On returning thither his wonder was inexpressible on perceiving, instead of the frightful wild beast, a most beautiful damsel, on whose head the wound which he had inflicted was bleeding through her fine golden hair, and whose right arm, in all its grace and snow-white luxuriance, was stretched out motionless, for it had been broken by the blow from his axe.“Pray,” said she, “have pity, and do not kill me outright. The little life that I have still left is, indeed, painful enough, and may not last long; yet, sad as my condition is, it is yet tenfold better than death.”The young man then sat down weeping beside her, and she explained to him that she was the daughter of a magician, on the other side of the mountain, who had sent her out in the shape of a wolf to collect plants from places which, in her own proper form, she could not have reached. It was but in terror she had made that violent spring which the youth had mistaken for an attack on him, when her only wish had been to pass by him.“But you directly broke my right arm,” said she, “though I had no evil design against you.”How she had now regained her proper shape she could not imagine, but to the youth it was quite clear that the picture of St. George and the Dragon had broken the spell by which the poor girl had been transformed.While the son was thus occupied, the old man returned home, and soon heard all that had occurred, perceiving, at the same time, that if the young pagan wanderer had been released from the spells by which she had been bound, the youth was, in his turn, enchanted and spellbound by her beauty and amiable behaviour.From that moment he exerted himself to the utmost for the welfare of her soul, endeavouring to convert her to Christianity, while his son attended to the cure of her wounds; and, as their endeavours were on both sides successful, it was resolved that the lovers should be united in marriage, for the youth had not restricted himself by any monastic vows.The magician’s daughter was now restored to perfect health. A day had been appointed for her baptism and marriage. It happened that one evening the bride and bridegroom went to take a pleasure walk through the woods. The sun was yet high in the west, and shone so fervently through the beech-trees on the green turf that they could never resolve on turning home, but went still deeper and deeper into the forest. Then the bride told him stories of her early life, and sang old songs which she had learned when a child, and which sounded beautifully amid the woodland solitude. Though the words were such that they could not be agreeable to the youth’s ears (for she had learned them among her pagan and wicked relations), yet he could not interrupt her, first, because he loved her so dearly, and, secondly, because she sang in a voice so clear and sweet that the whole forest seemed to rejoice in her music. At last, however, the pointed heads of the pine-trees again became visible, and the youth wished to turn back, in order that he might not come again too near the hated Finnish frontier. His bride, however, said to him—“Dearest Conrad, why should we not walk on a little further? I would gladly see the very place where you so cruelly wounded me on the head and arm, and made me prisoner, all which has, in the end contributed to my happiness. Methinks we are now very near the spot.”Accordingly they sought about here and there until at last the twilight fell dim and heavy on the dense woods. The sun had long since set. The moon, however, had risen, and, as a light broke forth, the lovers stood on the Finland frontier, or rather they must have gone already some distance beyond it, for the bridegroom was exceedingly terrified when he found his cap lifted from his head, as if by human hand, though he saw only the branch of a fir-tree. Immediately thereafter the whole air around them was filled with strange and supernatural beings—witches, devils, dwarfs, horned-owls, fire-eyed cats, and a thousand other wretches that could not be named and described, whirled around them as if dancing to rapid music. When the bride had looked on for a while, she broke out into loud laughter, and at last began to dance furiously along with them. The poor bridegroom might shout and pray as much and as earnestly as he would, for she never attended to him, but at last transformed herself in a manner so extraordinary that he could not distinguish her from the other dancers. He thought, however, that he had kept his eyes upon her, and seized on one of the dancers; but alas! it was only a horrible spectre which held him fast, and threw its wide waving shroud around him, so that he could not make his escape, while, at the same time, some of the subterraneous black demons pulled at his legs, and wanted to bear him down along with them into their bottomless caves.Fortunately he happened at that moment to cross himself and call on the name of the Saviour, upon which the whole of this vile assembly fell into confusion. They howled aloud and ran off in all directions, while Conrad in the meantime saved himself by recrossing the frontier, and getting under the protection of the Swedish copsewood. His beautiful bride, however, was completely lost; and by no endeavours could he ever obtain her again, though he often came to the Finland border, called out her name aloud, wept and prayed, but all in vain. Many times, it is true, he saw her floating about through the pine-trees, as if in chase, but she was always accompanied by a train of frightful creatures, and she herself also looked wild and disfigured. For the most part she never noticed Conrad, but if she could not help fixing her eyes upon him, she laughed so immoderately, and in a mood of merriment so strange and unnatural, that he was terrified and made the sign of the cross, whereupon she always fled away, howling, into one of the thickets.Conrad fell more and more into melancholy abstraction, hardly ever spoke, and though he had given over his vain walks into the forest, yet if one asked him a question, the only answer he returned was—“Ay, she is gone away beyond the mountains,” so little did he know or remember of any other object in the world but the lost beauty.At last he died of grief; and according to a request which he had once made, his father prepared a grave for him on the place where the bride was found and lost, though during the fulfilment of this duty he had enough to do—one while in contending with his crucifix against evil spirits, and at another, with his sword against wild beasts, which were no doubt sent thither by the magicians to attack and annoy him. At length, however, he brought his task to an end, and thereafter it seemed as if the bride mourned for the youth’s untimely death, for there was heard often a sound of howling and lamentation at the grave. For the most part, indeed, this voice is like the voices of wolves, yet, at the same time, human accents are to be distinguished, and I myself have often listened thereto on dark winter nights.Alas! that the poor maiden should have ventured again so near the accursed paths she had once renounced. A few steps in the backward course, and all is lost!
Very many years ago, before the oldest man alive at the present time can remember, the towns of Ikom, Okuni, Abijon, Insofan, Obokum, and all the other Injor towns were situated round and near the Insofan Mountain, and the head chief of the whole country was called Agbor. Abragba and Enfitop also lived there, and were also under King Agbor. The Insofan Mountain is about two days’ march inland from the Cross River, and as none of the people there could swim, and knew nothing about canoes, they never went anywhere outside their own country, and were afraid to go down to the big river. The whole country was taken up with yam farms, and was divided amongst the various towns, each town having its own bush. At the end of each year, when it was time to dig the yams, there was a big play held, which was called the New Yam feast. At this festival there was always a big human sacrifice, fifty slaves being killed in one day. These slaves were tied up to trees in a row, and many drums were beaten; then a strong man, armed with a sharp matchet, went from one slave to another and cut their heads off. This was done to cool the new yams, so that they would not hurt the stomachs of the people. Until this sacrifice was made no one in the country would eat a new yam, as they knew, if they did so, they would suffer great pain in their insides.When the feast was held, all the towns brought one hundred yams each as a present to King Agbor. When the slaves were all killed fires were lit, and the dead bodies were placed over the fires to burn the hair off. A number of plantain leaves were then gathered and placed on the ground, and the bodies, having been cut into pieces, were placed on the plantain leaves.When the yams were skinned, they were put into large pots, with water, oil, pepper, and salt. The cut-up bodies were then put in on top, and the pots covered up with other clay pots and left to boil for an hour.The king, having called all the people together, then declared the New Yam feast had commenced, and singing and dancing were kept up for three days and nights, during which time much palm wine was consumed, and all the bodies and yams, which had been provided for them, were eaten by the people.The heads were given to the king for his share, and, when he had finished eating them, the skulls were placed before the Ju Ju with some new yams, so that there should be a good crop the following season.But although these natives ate the dead bodies of the slaves at the New Yam feast, they did not eat human flesh during the rest of the year.This went on for many years, until at last the Okuni people noticed that the graves of the people who had been buried were frequently dug open and the bodies removed. This caused great wonder, and, as they did not like the idea of their dead relations being taken away, they made a complaint to King Agbor. He at once caused a watch to be set on all newly dug graves, and that very night they caught seven men, who were very greedy, and used to come whenever a body was buried, dig it up, and carry it into the bush, where they made a fire, and cooked and ate it.When they were caught, the people made them show where they lived, and where they cooked the bodies.After walking for some hours in the forest, they came to a place where large heaps of human bones and skulls were found.The seven men were then securely fastened up and brought before King Agbor, who held a large palaver of all the towns, and the whole situation was discussed.Agbor said that this bad custom would necessitate all the towns separating, as they could not allow their dead relations to be dug up and eaten by these greedy people, and he could see no other way to prevent it. Agbor then gave one of the men to each of the seven towns, and told some of them to go on the far side of the big river and make their towns there. The others were to go farther down the river on the same side as Insofan Mountain, and when they found suitable places, they were each to kill their man as a sacrifice and then build their town.All the towns then departed, and when they had found good sites, they built their towns there.When they had all gone, after a time Agbor began to feel very lonely, so he left the site of his old town and also went to the Cross River to live, so that he could see his friends.After that the New Yam feast was held in each town, and the people still continued to kill and eat a few slaves at the feast, but the bodies of their relations and friends were kept for a long time above ground until they had become rotten, so that the greedy people should not dig them up and eat them.This is why, even at the present time, the people do not like to bury their dead relations until they have become putrid.
Many years ago, on an island in the middle of the river Vistula stood a large castle, surrounded by a wall. At each corner was a high tower, from which flags streamed, and there strong guards kept watch. A leathern bridge, hung on chains, joined the island to the banks of the river.In this castle lived a rich and valiant knight. Whenever a trumpet sounded over the entrance gate, it was a sure sign that the knight had returned victorious, and had brought valuable booty with him.In the deep and dark dungeons of the castle many prisoners were kept, who were led out daily to work. They were compelled to repair the walls, and dig in the garden. Among them were an old woman and her husband. The old woman was a witch, and she was determined to revenge herself for their sufferings on the knight; she only waited for an opportunity to find him alone.One day the knight returned as usual to the castle; tired with his exertions, he lay down to rest on the green grass, and soon fell fast asleep. The witch, who had watched him, came out quietly from her hiding-place, and sprinkled some poppy seed over his eyes to make him sleep more soundly. She then struck him on the side of his breast where his heart lay, with a twig of an aspen tree. The knight’s breast was immediately opened, and the wicked witch could see his brave heart quietly beating. The malicious old woman chuckled with delight, and with her bony fingers and long nails she took out the heart so dexterously, that the poor knight never awoke. Then she put in its place the heart of a hare, closed the opening, hid herself among the thick bushes, and awaited impatiently the result of her wickedness.Before the knight was quite awake he already began to feel his timid heart. He, who once did not know what fear was, now trembled, and tossed his body uneasily about in his sleep. At last he opened his eyes. His coat of mail was too heavy for him. As soon as he got up he heard with terror the barking of the dogs. Formerly he loved to listen to their cry; now, terrified, he ran away like a timid hare. As he fled to his room, the clatter of his own arms and spurs alarmed him so much that he threw them away; and, almost worn out with terror, sank down on his bed.The time was when the knight would dream only of battles and of rich booty; now he moaned with fear in his sleep. At the barking of the dogs, or the watch-cry of his soldiers, who in the high towers guarded the castle from surprise, he trembled like a child, and hid his face on the pillow.After a time the knight’s enemies besieged his castle. The officers and soldiers waited for their commander, who used to lead them to battle and to victory; but they waited in vain. He, the valiant knight, having heard the clatter of arms, the trampling of horses, and the noise of men, fled to the very top of his castle, whence he could see the numerous forces of the enemy. There he remembered his former battles, his victories, and the glory of his name. He wept bitterly, and called aloud:—“Oh, Heaven! give me courage! Give me health and strength! My faithful followers are already in the field of battle, and I, their leader, who used to be ever in their front, am now, alas! like a timid maiden, looking down upon them from my castle wall. Give me a fearless heart! Give me strength to bear my arms! Restore me to my former self, and give me victory!”These recollections of the past awakened him as it were from a dream. He hastened to his room, put on his armour, mounted his horse and galloped out through the gate. The sentries received him joyfully, and sounded their trumpets to announce his arrival. He hastened on, but fear was in his heart and mind. When the army courageously attacked the enemy, the general, terrified, turned his horse round, and flew back to the castle. Though sheltered behind its thick walls, fear did not even then leave him. He dismounted, ran into the deepest vault, and there, fainting away, awaited an inglorious death. His army, however, was victorious, and the watch at the towers received it triumphantly. His soldiers were surprised at the cowardly conduct of their leader. They searched for him a long time in vain; at last they found him in a cellar, half dead from fear and despair.The unhappy knight did not live long. During the whole of the winter he tried to warm his trembling limbs before the fire. When the spring came he opened his window that he might breathe the fresh air a little. A martin, which had built its nest near the roof, flying by, struck him on the head with its wing. The blow was fatal; the poor knight fell down as if struck by lightning, and soon afterwards died.He was deeply deplored by all his followers. They could not comprehend what it was that had so completely changed their master. A year afterwards, when some witches were being “swum” for having stopped the rain, one of them confessed how she had removed the knight’s heart, and had put a hare’s heart in its place. Then they understood how a once courageous knight had become a craven. They wept bitter tears over his cruel fate, and, as a punishment, burnt the wicked witch over his grave.
Once upon a time, ages and ages ago, the toad had a smooth skin. In those days, he was a great roamer. He never could be found in his own house. If any one had a party, he was sure to go, no matter how far away from home it was held, or how long it took to get there.One day the toad received an invitation to attend a party in the sky. “You never can get to this party,” said his friend, the armadillo. “You know how slowly you travel here upon earth.”“Wait and see whether or not I go to the party,” said the toad.Not far from the toad’s house there lived a big black buzzard. No one liked the buzzard. He was very unpopular with all the birds and beasts. The toad hopped over to the buzzard’s house. The buzzard was outside the door making music on his violin.“Good morning, Friend Buzzard,” said the toad. “Are you going to attend the party in the sky?”The buzzard replied that he was planning to go.“That is good,” said the toad. “May I have the pleasure of your company for the trip?”The buzzard was delighted to have the toad seek his company. It was a new experience.“I’ll be charmed to go to the party with you,” replied the buzzard. “What time shall we start?”“We’ll start at four o’clock,” said the toad. “Come to my house and we’ll go on from there. Be sure to bring your violin with you.”Promptly at four o’clock the buzzard arrived at the toad’s house. He had his violin with him, of course, because the toad had asked him to bring it.“I’m not quite ready to go,” the toad called out. “Just leave your violin there by the door and step inside. It will take me only a minute to finish getting ready.”The buzzard laid his violin carefully outside the door and went inside the toad’s house. The toad jumped through the window and hid himself inside the violin.The buzzard waited and waited for the toad to get ready but he did not hear a word from the toad. Finally he got tired of waiting. He picked up his violin and started.When he arrived at the party, he was a trifle late but he explained how he had waited for the toad.“How foolish to wait a minute for the toad,” said his hosts. “How could the toad ever get to a party in the sky? We just asked him as a joke because he is such a great gadabout. Lay down your violin and come to the feast.”The buzzard laid down his violin. As soon as there was no one looking, out hopped the toad. He was laughing from ear to ear. “So they thought I would not come to the party! What a joke! How surprised they will be to see me here!” he said.There was nobody at the feast who was as gay as the toad. When the buzzard asked how he arrived he said: “I’ll tell you some other day.” Then he went on eating and dancing.The buzzard did not have a very good time at the party. He decided that he would go home early. He went away without saying good-bye to his hosts and without taking his violin with him.At the end of the party the toad hopped inside the violin and waited and waited for the buzzard to take him home. Nobody picked up the violin and the toad began to be very much worried. He almost wished he had not come.After a while the falcon noticed the violin. “That violin belongs to the buzzard. He must have forgotten to take it home. I’ll carry it back for him,” he said.The falcon flew towards earth with the violin. The toad shook about terribly inside of the violin. He got very tired. The falcon got tired, too.“I’m not going to carry this heavy old violin of the buzzard’s another minute,” said the falcon. “I was foolish to offer to carry it in the first place. The buzzard is no friend of mine.”He let the violin fall. Down, down toward earth it fell.“O, little stones, O, little stones, get out of my way,” called the toad as he fell. The little stones had deaf ears. They did not get out of the way.When the toad crawled out of the wrecked violin he was so covered with bruises that he could hardly hop home.The buzzard never knew what became of his violin or why the toad had lost his good looks. To this very day the toad shows his bruises. And he is entirely cured of being a roamer.
Once upon a time, far away in the east country, there lived a king who loved hunting so much that, when once there was a deer in sight, he was careless of his own safety. Indeed, he often became quite separated from his nobles and attendants, and in fact was particularly fond of lonely adventures. Another of his favourite amusements was to give out that he was not well, and could not be seen; and then, with the knowledge only of his faithful Grand Wazeer, to disguise himself as a pedlar, load a donkey with cheap wares, and travel about. In this way he found out what the common people said about him, and how his judges and governors fulfilled their duties.One day his queen presented him with a baby daughter as beautiful as the dawn, and the king himself was so happy and delighted that, for a whole week, he forgot to hunt, and spent the time in public and private rejoicing.Not long afterwards, however, he went out after some deer which were to be found in a far corner of his forests. In the course of the beat his dogs disturbed a beautiful snow-white stag, and directly he saw it the king determined that he would have it at any cost. So he put the spurs to his horse, and followed it as hard as he could gallop. Of course all his attendants followed at the best speed that they could manage; but the king was so splendidly mounted, and the stag was so swift, that, at the end of an hour, the king found that only his favourite hound and himself were in the chase; all the rest were far, far behind and out of sight.Nothing daunted, however, he went on and on, till he perceived that he was entering a valley with great rocky mountains on all sides, and that his horse was getting very tired and trembled at every stride. Worse than all evening was already drawing on, and the sun would soon set. In vain had he sent arrow after arrow at the beautiful stag. Every shot fell short, or went wide of the mark; and at last, just as darkness was setting in, he lost sight altogether of the beast. By this time his horse could hardly move from fatigue, his hound staggered panting along beside him, he was far away amongst mountains where he had never been before, and had quite missed his way, and not a human creature or dwelling was in sight.All this was very discouraging, but the king would not have minded if he had not lost that beautiful stag. That troubled him a good deal, but he never worried over what he could not help, so he got down from his horse, slipped his arm through the bridle, and led the animal along the rough path in hopes of discovering some shepherd’s hut, or, at least, a cave or shelter under some rock, where he might pass the night.Presently he heard the sound of rushing water, and made towards it. He toiled over a steep rocky shoulder of a hill, and there, just below him, was a stream dashing down a precipitous glen, and, almost beneath his feet, twinkling and flickering from the level of the torrent, was a dim light as of a lamp. Towards this light the king with his horse and hound made his way, sliding and stumbling down a steep, stony path. At the bottom the king found a narrow grassy ledge by the brink of the stream, across which the light from a rude lantern in the mount of a cave shed a broad beam of uncertain light. At the edge of the stream sat an old hermit with a long white beard, who neither spoke nor moved as the king approached, but sat throwing into the stream dry leaves which lay scattered about the ground near him.‘Peace be upon you,’ said the king, giving the usual country salutation.‘And upon you peace,’ answered the hermit; but still he never looked up, nor stopped what he was doing.For a minute or two the king stood watching him. He noticed that the hermit threw two leaves in at a time, and watched them attentively. Sometimes both were carried rapidly down by the stream; sometimes only one leaf was carried off, and the other, after whirling slowly round and round on the edge of the current, would come circling back on an eddy to the hermit’s feet. At other times both leaves were held in the backward eddy, and failed to reach the main current of the noisy stream‘What are you doing?’ asked the king at last, and the hermit replied that he was reading the fates of men; every one’s fate, he said, was settled from the beginning, and, whatever it were, there was no escape from it. The king laughed.‘I care little,’ he said, ‘what my fate may be; but I should be curious to know the fate of my little daughter.’‘I cannot say,’ answered the hermit.‘Do you not know, then?’ demanded the king.‘I might know,’ returned the hermit, ‘but it is not always wisdom to know much.’But the king was not content with this reply, and began to press the old man to say what he knew, which for a long time he would not do. At last, however, the king urged him so greatly that he said:‘The king’s daughter will marry the son of a poor slave-girl called Puruna, who belongs to the king of the land of the north. There is no escaping from Fate.’The king was wild with anger at hearing these words, but he was also very tired; so he only laughed, and answered that he hoped there would be a way out of THAT fate anyhow. Then he asked if the hermit could shelter him and his beasts for the night, and the hermit said ‘Yes’; so, very soon the king had watered and tethered his horse, and, after a supper of bread and parched peas, lay down in the cave, with the hound at his feet, and tried to go to sleep. But instead of sleeping he only lay awake and thought of the hermit’s prophecy; and the more he thought of it the angrier he felt, until he gnashed his teeth and declared that it should never, never come true.Morning came, and the king got up, pale and sulky, and, after learning from the hermit which path to take, was soon mounted and found his way home without much difficulty. Directly he reached his palace he wrote a letter to the king of the land of the north, begging him, as a favour, to sell him his slave girl Puruna and her son, and saying that, if he consented, he would send a messenger to receive them at the river which divided the kingdoms.For five days he awaited the reply, and hardly slept or ate, but was as cross as could be all the time. On the fifth day his messenger returned with a letter to say that the king of the land of the north would not sell, but he would give, the king the slave girl and her son. The king was overjoyed. He sent for his Grand Wazeer and told him that he was going on one of his lonely expeditions, and that the Wazeer must invent some excuse to account for his absence. Next he disguised himself as an ordinary messenger, mounted a swift camel, and sped away to the place where the slave girl was to be handed over to him. When he got there he gave the messengers who brought her a letter of thanks and a handsome present for their master and rewards for themselves; and then without delay he took the poor woman and her tiny baby-boy up on to his camel and rode off to a wild desert.After riding for a day and a night, almost without stopping, he came to a great cave where he made the woman dismount, and, taking her and the baby into the cave, he drew his sword and with one blow chopped her head off. But although his anger made him cruel enough for anything so dreadful, the king felt that he could not turn his great sword on the helpless baby, who he was sure must soon die in this solitary place without its mother; so he left it in the cave where it was, and, mounting his camel, rode home as fast as he could.Now, in a small village in his kingdom there lived an old widow who had no children or relations of any kind. She made her living mostly by selling the milk of a flock of goats; but she was very, very poor, and not very strong, and often used to wonder how she would live if she got too weak or ill to attend to her goats. Every morning she drove the goats out into the desert to graze on the shrubs and bushes which grew there, and every evening they came home of themselves to be milked and to be shut up safely for the night.One evening the old woman was astonished to find that her very best nanny-goat returned without a drop of milk. She thought that some naughty boy or girl was playing a trick upon her and had caught the goat on its way home and stolen all the milk. But when evening after evening the goat remained almost dry she determined to find out who the thief was. So the next day she followed the goats at a distance and watched them while they grazed. At length, in the afternoon, the old woman noticed this particular nanny-goat stealing off by herself away from the herd and she at once went after her. On and on the goat walked for some way, and then disappeared into a cave in the rocks. The old woman followed the goat into the cave and then, what should she see but the animal giving her milk to a little boy-baby, whilst on the ground near by lay the sad remains of the baby’s dead mother! Wondering and frightened, the old woman thought at last that this little baby might be a son to her in her old age, and that he would grow up and in time to come be her comfort and support. So she carried home the baby to her hut, and next day she took a spade to the cave and dug a grave where she buried the poor mother.Years passed by, and the baby grew up into a find handsome lad, as daring as he was beautiful, and as industrious as he was brave. One day, when the boy, whom the old woman had named Nur Mahomed, was about seventeen years old, he was coming from his day’s work in the fields, when he saw a strange donkey eating the cabbages in the garden which surround their little cottage. Seizing a big stick, he began to beat the intruder and to drive him out of his garden. A neighbour passing by called out to him- -‘Hi! I say! why are you beating the pedlar’s donkey like that?’‘The pedlar should keep him from eating my cabbages,’ said Nur Mahomed; ‘if he comes this evening here again I’ll cut off his tail for him!’Whereupon he went off indoors, whistling cheerfully. It happened that this neighbour was one of those people who make mischief by talking too much; so, meeting the pedlar in the ‘serai,’ or inn, that evening, he told him what had occurred, and added: ‘Yes; and the young spitfire said that if beating the donkey would not do, he would beat you also, and cut your nose off for a thief!’A few days later, the pedlar having moved on, two men appeared in the village inquiring who it was who had threatened to ill-treat and to murder an innocent pedlar. They declared that the pedlar, in fear of his life, had complained to the king; and that they had been sent to bring the lawless person who had said these things before the king himself. Of course they soon found out about the donkey eating Nur Mahomed’s cabbages, and about the young man’s hot words; but although the lad assured them that he had never said anything about murdering anyone, they replied they were ordered to arrest him, and bring him to take his trial before the king. So, in spite of his protests, and the wails of his mother, he was carried off, and in due time brought before the king. Of course Nur Mahomed never guessed that the supposed pedlar happened to have been the king himself, although nobody knew it.But as he was very angry at what he had been told, he declared that he was going to make an example of this young man, and intended to teach him that even poor travelling pedlars could get justice in HIS country, and be protected from such lawlessness. However, just as he was going to pronounce some very heavy sentence, there was a stir in the court, and up came Nur Mahomed’s old mother, weeping and lamenting, and begging to be heard. The king ordered her to speak, and she began to plead for the boy, declaring how good he was, and how he was the support of her old age, and if he were put in prison she would die. The king asked her who she was. She replied that she was his mother.‘His mother?’ said the king; ‘you are too old, surely, to have so young a son!’Then the old woman, in her fright and distress, confessed the whole story of how she found the baby, and how she rescued and brought him up, and ended by beseeching the king for mercy.It is easy to guess how, as the story came out, the king looked blacker and blacker, and more and more grim, until at last he was half fainting with rage and astonishment. This, then, was the baby he had left to die, after cruelly murdering his mother! Surely fate might have spared him this! He wished he had sufficient excuse to put the boy to death, for the old hermit’s prophecy came back to him as strongly as ever; and yet the young man had done nothing bad enough to deserve such a punishment. Everyone would call him a tyrant if he were to give such an order–in fact, he dared not try it!At length he collected himself enough to say:–‘If this young man will enlist in my army I will let him off. We have need of such as him, and a little discipline will do him good.’ Still the old woman pleaded that she could not live without her son, and was nearly as terrified at the idea of his becoming a soldier as she was at the thought of his being put in prison. But at length the king– determined to get the youth into his clutches–pacified her by promising her a pension large enough to keep her in comfort; and Nur Mahomed, to his own great delight, was duly enrolled in the king’s army.As a soldier Nur Mahomed seemed to be in luck. He was rather surprised, but much pleased, to find that he was always one of those chosen when any difficult or dangerous enterprise was afoot; and, although he had the narrowest escapes on some occasions, still, the very desperateness of the situations in which he found himself gave him special chances of displaying his courage. And as he was also modest and generous, he became a favourite with his officers and his comrades.Thus it was not very surprising that, before very long, he became enrolled amongst the picked men of the king’s bodyguard. The fact is, that the king had hoped to have got him killed in some fight or another; but, seeing that, on the contrary, he throve on hard knocks, he was now determined to try more direct and desperate methods.One day, soon after Nur Mahomed had entered the bodyguard, he was selected to be one of the soldiers told off to escort the king through the city. The procession was marching on quite smoothly, when a man, armed with a dagger, rushed out of an alley straight towards the king. Nur Mahomed, who was the nearest of the guards, threw himself in the way, and received the stab that had been apparently intended for the king. Luckily the blow was a hurried one, and the dagger glanced on is breastbone, so that, although he received a severe wound, his youth and strength quickly got the better of it. The king was, of course, obliged to take some notice of this brave deed, and as a reward made him one of his own attendants.After this the strange adventures the young man passed through were endless. Officers of the bodyguard were often sent on all sorts of secret and difficult errands, and such errands had a curious way of becoming necessary when Nur Mahomed was on duty. Once, while he was taking a journey, a foot-bridge gave way under him; once he was attacked by armed robbers; a rock rolled down upon him in a mountain pass; a heavy stone coping fell from a roof at his feet in a narrow city alley. Altogether, Nur Mahomed began to think that, somewhere or other, he had made an enemy; but he was light-hearted, and the thought did not much trouble him. He escaped somehow every time, and felt amused rather than anxious about the next adventure.It was the custom of that city that the officer for the day of the palace guards should receive all his food direct from the king’s kitchen. One day, when Nur Mahomed’s turn came to be on duty, he was just sitting down to a delicious stew that had been sent in from the palace, when one of those gaunt, hungry dogs, which, in eastern countries, run about the streets, poked his nose in at the open guard-room door, and looked at Nur Mahomed with mouth watering and nostrils working. The kind-hearted young man picked out a lump of meat, went to the door, and threw it outside to him. The dog pounced upon it, and gulped it down greedily, and was just turning to go, when it staggered, fell, rolled over, and died. Nur Mahomed, who had been lazily watching him, stood still for a moment, then he came back whistling softly. He gathered up the rest of his dinner and carefully wrapped it up to carry away and bury somewhere; and then he sent back the empty plates.How furious the king was when, at the next morning’s durbar, Nur Mahomed appeared before him fresh, alert and smiling as usual. He was determined, however, to try once more, and bidding the young man come into his presence that evening, gave orders that he was to carry a secret despatch to the governor of a distant province. ‘Make your preparations at once,’ added he, ‘and be ready to start in the morning. I myself will deliver you the papers at the last moment.’Now this province was four or five days’ journey from the palace, and the governor of it was the most faithful servant the king had. He could be silent as the grave, and prided himself on his obedience. Whilst he was an old and tried servant of the king’s, his wife had been almost a mother to the young princess ever since the queen had died some years before. It happened that, a little before this time, the princess had been sent away for her health to another remote province; and whilst she was there her old friend, the governor’s wife, had begged her to come and stay with them as soon as she could.The princess accepted gladly, and was actually staying in the governor’s house at the very time when the king made up his mind to send Nur Mahomed there with the mysterious despatch.According to orders Nur Mahomed presented himself early the next morning at the king’s private apartments. His best horse was saddled, food placed in is saddle-bag, and with some money tied up in his waist-band, he was ready to start. The king handed over to him a sealed packet, desiring him to give it himself only into the hands of the governor, and to no one else. Nur Mahomed hid it carefully in his turban, swung himself into the saddle, and five minutes later rode out of the city gates, and set out on his long journey.The weather was very hot; but Nur Mahomed thought that the sooner his precious letter was delivered the better; so that, by dint of riding most of each night and resting only in the hottest part of the day, he found himself, by noon on the third day, approaching the town which was his final destination.Not a soul was to be seen anywhere; and Nur Mahomed, stiff, dry, thirsty, and tired, looked longingly over the wall into the gardens, and marked the fountains, the green grass, the shady apricot orchards, and giant mulberry trees, and wished he were there.At length he reached the castle gates, and was at once admitted, as he was in the uniform of the king’s bodyguard. The governor was resting, the soldier said, and could not see him until the evening. So Nur Mahomed handed over his horse to an attendant, and wandered down into the lovely gardens he had seen from the road, and sat down in the shade to rest himself. He flung himself on his back and watched the birds twittering and chattering in the trees above him. Through the branches he could see great patches of sky where the kites wheeled and circled incessantly, with shrill whistling cried. Bees buzzed over the flowers with a soothing sound, and in a few minutes Nur Mahomed was fast asleep.Every day, through the heat of the afternoon, the governor, and his wife also, used to lie down for two or three hours in their own rooms, and so, for the matter of that, did most people in the palace. But the princess, like many other girls, was restless, and preferred to wander about the garden, rather than rest on a pile of soft cushions. What a torment her stout old attendants and servants sometime thought her when she insisted on staying awake, and making them chatter or do something, when they could hardly keep their eyes open! Sometimes, however, the princess would pretend to go to sleep, and then, after all her women had gladly followed her example, she would get up and go out by herself, her veil hanging loosely about her. If she was discovered her old hostess scolded her severely; but the princess only laughed, and did the same thing next time.This very afternoon the princess had left all her women asleep, and, after trying in vain to amuse herself indoors, she had slipped out into the great garden, and rambled about in all her favourite nooks and corners, feeling quite safe as there was not a creature to be seen. Suddenly, on turning a corner, she stopped in surprise, for before her lay a man fast asleep! In her hurry she had almost tripped over him. But there he was, a young man, tanned and dusty with travel, in the uniform of an officer of the king’s guard. One of the few faults of this lovely princess was a devouring curiosity, and she lived such an idle life that she had plenty of time to be curious. Out of one of the folds of this young man’s turban there peeped the corner of a letter! She wondered what the letter was–whom it was for! She drew her veil a little closer, and stole across on tip-toe and caught hold of the corner of the letter. Then she pulled it a little, and just a little more! A great big seal came into view, which she saw to be her father’s, and at the sight of it she paused for a minute half ashamed of what she was doing. But the pleasure of taking a letter which was not meant for her was more than she could resist, and in another moment it was in her hand. All at once she remembered that it would be death to this poor officer if he lost the letter, and that at all hazards she must put it back again. But this was not so easy; and, moreover, the letter in her hand burnt her with longing to read it, and see what was inside. She examined the seal. It was sticky with being exposed to the hot sun, and with a very little effort it parted from the paper. The letter was open and she read it! And this was what was written:‘Behead the messenger who brings this letter secretly and at once. Ask no questions.’The girl grew pale. What a shame! she thought. SHE would not let a handsome young fellow like that be beheaded; but how to prevent it was not quite clear at the moment. Some plan must be invented, and she wished to lock herself in where no one could interrupt her, as might easily happen in the garden. So she crept softly to her room, and took a piece of paper and wrote upon it: ‘Marry the messenger who brings this letter to the princess openly at once. Ask no questions.’ And even contrived to work the seals off the original letter and to fix them to this, so that no one could tell, unless they examined it closely, that it had ever been opened. Then she slipped back, shaking with fear and excitement, to where the young officer still lay asleep, thrust the letter into the fold so his turban, and hurried back to her room. It was done!Late in the afternoon Nur Mahomed woke, and, making sure that the precious despatch was still safe, went off to get ready for his audience with the governor. As soon as he was ushered into his presence he took the letter from his turban and placed it in the governor’s hands according to orders. When he had read it the governor was certainly a little astonished; but he was told in the letter to ‘ask no questions,’ and he knew how to obey orders. He sent for his wife and told her to get the princess ready to be married at once.‘Nonsense!’ said his wife, ‘what in the world do you mean?’‘These are the king’s commands,’ he answered; ‘go and do as I bid you. The letter says “at once,” and “ask no questions.” The marriage, therefore, must take place this evening.’In vain did his wife urge every objection; the more she argued, the more determined was her husband. ‘I know how to obey orders,’ he said, ‘and these are as plain as the nose on my face!’ So the princess was summoned, and, somewhat to their surprise, she seemed to take the news very calmly; next Nur Mahomed was informed, and he was greatly startled, but of course he could but be delighted at the great and unexpected honour which he thought the king had done him. Then all the castle was turned upside down; and when the news spread in the town, THAT was turned upside down too. Everybody ran everywhere, and tried to do everything at once; and, in the middle of it all, the old governor went about with his hair standing on end, muttering something about ‘obeying orders.’And so the marriage was celebrated, and there was a great feast in the castle, and another in the soldiers’ barracks, and illuminations all over the town and in the beautiful gardens. And all the people declared that such a wonderful sight had never been seen, and talked about it to the ends of their lives.The next day the governor despatched the princess and her bridegroom to the king, with a troop of horsemen, splendidly dressed, and he sent a mounted messenger on before them, with a letter giving the account of the marriage to the king.When the king got the governor’s letter, he grew so red in the face that everyone thought he was going to have apoplexy. They were all very anxious to know what had happened, but he rushed off and locked himself into a room, where he ramped and raved until he was tired. Then, after awhile, he began to think he had better make the best of it, especially as the old governor had been clever enough to send him back his letter, and the king was pretty sure that this was in the princess’s handwriting. He was fond of his daughter, and though she had behaved badly, he did not wish to cut HER head off, and he did not want people to know the truth because it would make him look foolish. In fact, the more he considered the matter, the more he felt that he would be wise to put a good face on it, and to let people suppose that he had really brought about the marriage of his own free will.So, when the young couple arrived, the king received them with all state, and gave his son-in-law a province to govern. Nur Mahomed soon proved himself as able and honourable a governor as he was a brave soldier; and, when the old king died, he became king in his place, and reigned long and happily.Nur Mahomed’s old mother lived for a long time in her ‘son’s’ palace, and died in peace. The princess, his wife, although she had got her husband by a trick, found that she could not trick HIM, and so she never tried, but busied herself in teaching her children and scolding her maids. As for the old hermit, no trace of him was ever discovered; but the cave is there, and the leaves lie thick in front of it unto this day.
It is a point of faith accepted by all devout Portuguese that thirty-three baths in the sea must be taken on or before the 24th of August of every year. Although the motive may not seem to be very reasonable, still the result is of great advantage to those believers who occupy thirty-three days in taking the thirty-three baths, for otherwise the majority of them would never undergo any form of ablution.That the demon is loose on the 24th of August is an established fact among the credulous; and were it not for the compact entered into between St. Bartholomew and the said demon, that all who have taken thirty-three baths during the year should be free from his talons, the list of the condemned would be much increased.Now, there was a very powerful baron, whose castle was erected on the eastern slope of the Gaviarra, overlooking the neighbouring provinces of Spain, and he had always refused to take these thirty-three baths, for he maintained that it was cowardly on the part of a man to show any fear of the demon. His castle was fully manned; the drawbridge was never left lowered; the turrets were never left unguarded; and a wide and deep ditch surrounded the whole of his estates, which had been given him by Affonso Henriques, after the complete overthrow of the Saracens at Ourique, in which famous and decisive battle the baron had wrought wondrous deeds of bravery.All round the castle were planted numerous vines, which had been brought from Burgundy by order of Count Henry, father of the first Portuguese king; and in the month of August the grapes are already well formed, but the hand of Nature has not yet painted them. Among the vines quantities of yellow melons and green water-melons were strewn over the ground, while the mottled pumpkins hung gracefully from the branches of the orange-trees.In front of the castle was an arbour, formed of box-trees, under which a lovely fountain had been constructed; and here, in the hot summer months, would wander the baron’s only daughter, Alina. She was possessed of all the qualities, mental and physical, which went towards making the daughter of a feudal lord desired in marriage by all the gallants of the day; and as she was heiress to large estates, these would have been considered a sufficient prize without the said qualities. But Alina, for all this, was not happy, for she was enamoured of a handsome chief, who, unfortunately, wore the distinctive almexia, which proved him to be a Moor, and, consequently, not a fit suitor for the daughter of a Christian baron.“My father,” she would often soliloquize, “is kind to me, and professes to be a Christian. My lover, as a follower of the Prophet, hates my father, but, as a man, he loves me. For me he says he will do anything; yet, when I ask him to become a Christian, he answers me that he will do so if I can prevail on my father to so far conform with the Christian law as to take the thirty-three baths; and this my father will not do. What am I to do? He would rather fight the demon than obey the saint.”One day, however, she resolved on telling her father about her courtship with the young chief, Al-Muli, and of the only condition he made, on which depended his becoming a convert to Christianity, which so infuriated the baron that, in his anger, he declared himself willing to meet the demon in mortal combat, hoping thus to free the world of him and of the necessity of taking the thirty-three baths.This so much distressed Alina, that when, during the afternoon of the same day, Al-Muli met her in the arbour, she disclosed to him her firm resolution of entering a convent, and spending the rest of her days there.“This shall not be!” cried Al-Muli; and, seizing her round the waist, he lifted her on to his shoulder, sped through the baronial grounds, and, having waded through the ditch, placed her on the albarda of his horse and galloped away.Alina was so frightened that she could not scream, and she silently resigned herself to her fate, trusting in the honour of her lover.The alcazar, or palace, of Al-Muli was situated on the Spanish side of the frontier; and, as they approached the principal gate, the almocadem, or captain of the guard, hurried to receive his master, who instructed him to send word to his mother that he desired of her to receive and look after Alina. This done, he assisted his bride elect to dismount, and, with a veil hiding her lovely features, she was ushered by Al-Muli’s mother into a magnificently furnished room, and took a seat on a richly embroidered cushion, called an almofada.To her future mother-in-law she related all that referred to her conversation with her father, and how she had been brought away from his castle; and she further said that she very much feared the baron would summon all his numerous followers to rescue her.Al-Muli’s mother was a descendant of the Moors who first landed at Algeziras, and from them had descended to her that knowledge of the black art which has been peculiar to that race. She, therefore, replied that although she could count on the resistance her almogavares, or garrison soldiers, would offer to the forces of the baron, still she would do her utmost to avoid a conflict. She then proceeded to another room, in which she kept her magic mirror, and having closed the door, we must leave her consulting the oracle.The baron was not long in discovering the absence of his daughter, and he so stormed about the place that his servants were afraid to come near him.In a short time, however, his reason seemed to return to him, and he sat down on his old chair and gave way to grief when he saw that his Alina’s cushion was vacant.“My child—my only child and love,” sobbed the old man, “thou hast left thy father’s castle, and gone with the accursed Moor into the hostile land of Spain. Oh, that I had been a good Christian, and looked after my daughter better! I have braved the orders of good St. Bartholomew; I would not take the thirty-three baths in the sea, and now I am wretched!”The baron suddenly became aware of the presence of a distinguished and patriarchal looking stranger, who addressed him thus—“You mortals only think of St. Barbara when it thunders. Now that the storm of sorrow has burst on you, you reproach yourself for not having thought of me and of my instructions. But I see that you are penitent, and if you will do as I tell you, you will regain your daughter.”It was St. Bartholomew himself who was speaking, and the baron, for the first time in his life, shook in his shoes with fear and shame.“Reverend saint,” at last ejaculated the baron, “help me in this my hour of need, and I will promise you anything—and, what is more, I will keep my promises.”“And you had better do so,” continued the saint; “for not even Satan has dared to break his compact with me. You don’t know how terrible I can be!”—here the saint raised his voice to such a pitch that the castle shook. “Only let me catch you playing false with me, and I’ll—I’ll—I don’t know what I’ll do!”“Most reverend saint and father, you have only to command me and I will obey,” murmured the affrighted baron—“I will indeed. Good venerable St. Bartholomew, only give me back my daughter—that is all I ask.”“Your daughter is now in the hands of Al-Muli, her lover, who dwells in a stronger castle than yours, and who, moreover, has a mother versed in the black art. It is no good your trying to regain her by the force at your disposal; you must rely on me—only on me. Do you understand?” asked the saint.“Yes, dear, good, noble, and venerable saint, I do understand you; but what am I to do?”“Simply follow me, and say not a word as you go,” commanded the patriarch.The baron did as he was told; and out from the castle the two went unseen by any one. The baron soon perceived that he was hurrying through the air, and he was so afraid of falling that he closed his eyes. All at once he felt that his feet were touching the ground; and, looking around him, what was his delight to find himself close to his dear daughter Alina.“Father—dear father!” exclaimed Alina; “how did you come here so quickly, for I have only just arrived? And how did you pass by the guards?”The baron was going to tell her, but the saint, in a whisper, enjoined silence on this point; and the baron now noticed that the saint was invisible.“Never mind, dear child, how I came here; it is enough that I am here,” replied her father. “And I intend taking you home with me, dear Alina. The castle is so lonely without you;” and the old man sobbed.At this moment Al-muli entered the chamber, and, seeing Alina’s father there, he thought there had been treachery among his guards; so striking a gong that was near him, a number of armed men rushed in.“How now, traitors!” said he. “How have you been careful of your duties when you have allowed this stranger to enter unobserved?”The soldiers protested their innocence, until at last Al-muli commenced to think that there must be some secret entrance into his castle.“Search everywhere!” screamed the infuriated Moor. “Have the guard doubled at all the entrances, and send me up the captain!”Al-muli’s instructions were carried out, and the captain reported that all was safe.“Old man,” said the Moor, addressing the baron, “I have thee now in my power. Thou wert the enemy of my noble race. To thy blind rage my predecessors owed their downfall in Portugal. Thy bitter hatred carried thee to acts of vengeance. Thou art now in my power, but I will not harm one of thy grey hairs.”“Moor,” replied the baron, with a proud look, “can the waters of the Manzanares and of the Guadalquivir join? No! And so cannot and may not thy accursed race join with ours! Thy race conquered our people, and in rising against thine we did but despoil the despoiler.”“Thy logic is as baseless as thy fury was wont to be,” answered the Moor. “Though hundreds of miles separate the Manzanares from the Guadalquivir, yet do they meet in the mightier waters of the ocean. Hadst thou said that ignorance cannot join hands with learning, thou wouldst have been nearer the mark, or that the Cross can never dim the light of the Crescent.”These words were spoken in a haughty manner; and as Al-muli turned round and looked upon his splendidly arrayed soldiers, who surrounded the chamber, his pride seemed justified.“Thou canst not crush me more than thou hast done, vile Moor,” said the baron. “Thou hast robbed me of my daughter, not by force of arms, but stealthily, as a thief at midnight. If any spark of chivalry warmed thy infidel blood thou wouldst blush for the act thou hast wrought. But I fear thee not, proud Moor; thy warriors are no braver than thy women. Dare them to move, and I will lay thee at my feet.”“Oh, my father, and thou, dear Al-Muli, abandon these threats, even if you cannot be friends.”“No, maiden,” exclaimed Al-Muli; “I will not be bearded in my own den. Advance, guards, and take this old man to a place of safety below!”But not a soldier moved; and when Al-Muli was about to approach them to see what was the matter with them, his scimitar dropped from his hand, and he fell on the ground.“What charm hast thou brought to bear on me, bold baron,” screamed the Moor, “that I am thus rendered powerless? Alina, if thou lovest me, give me but that goblet full of water, for I am faint.”Alina would have done as her lover bade her, but just then the figure of the venerable St. Bartholomew was seen with the cross in his right hand.“Moor and infidel,” said the saint, “thou hast mocked at this symbol of Christianity, and thou hast done grievous injury to this Christian baron; but thou hast been conscientious in thy infidelity. Nor am I slow to recognize in thy race a knowledge of the arts and sciences not yet extended to the Christian. Yet, for all this, thou art but an infidel. Let me but baptize thee with the water thou wouldst have drunk, and all will yet be well.”“No, sir saint,” answered the Moor. “When in my castle strangers thus treat me rudely, I can die, but not bend to their orders. If yonder baron is a true Christian, why has he not taken the thirty-three baths enjoined by thee?”“And if my father do take them, wilt thou, as thou didst promise me,” said Alina, “be converted to the true faith?”“The Moor breaks not his promise. As the golondrina returns to its nest in due season, so the man of honour returns to his promise.” Then, turning to the baron, he demanded to know if he would comply with the saint’s instructions.“Yes,” answered the baron; “I have promised the good saint everything, and I will fulfil my promises. Al-Muli, if you love my daughter, love her faith also, and I will then have regained not only a daughter, but a son in my old age.”“The promise of the Moor is sacred,” said Al-Muli. “Baptize me and my household; and do thou, good baron, intercede for me with the venerable saint, for I like not this lowly posture.”“My dear Al-Muli,” sobbed Alina for joy, “the Cross and the Crescent are thus united in the mightier ocean of love and goodwill. May the two races whom one God has made be reconciled! And to-morrow’s sun must not set before we all comply with the condition imposed by St. Bartholomew.”The saint was rejoiced with the work he had that day done, and declared that the churches he liked men to construct are those built within them, where the incense offered is prayer, and the work done, love. “As for the baths, they are but desirable auxiliaries,” said he.
“Vell, den, you needn’ sbeak so loud. I aind teaf, den.”“A dozen!” she screamed. “Give me a dozen. Here are only twelve.”“Vell, den, dwalf is a dozen.”“One more! I want a dozen.”“Vell, den, if you vant anodder, go to de duyvil and ged it.”Did the hag take him at his word? She left the shop, and from that time it seemed as if poor Volckert was bewitched, indeed, for his cakes were stolen; his bread was so light that it went up the chimney, when it was not so heavy that it fell through the oven; invisible hands plucked bricks from that same oven and pelted him until he was blue; his wife became deaf, his children went unkempt, and his trade went elsewhere. Thrice the old woman reappeared, and each time was sent anew to the devil; but at last, in despair, the baker called on Saint Nicolaus to come and advise him. His call was answered with startling quickness, for, almost while he was making it, the venerable patron of Dutch feasts stood before him. The good soul advised the trembling man to be more generous in his dealings with his fellows, and after a lecture on charity he vanished, when, lo! the old woman was there in his place.She repeated her demand for one more cake, and Volckert Jan Pietersen, etc., gave it, whereupon she exclaimed, “The spell is broken, and from this time a dozen is thirteen!” Taking from the counter a gingerbread effigy of Saint Nicolaus, she made the astonished Dutchman lay his hand upon it and swear to give more liberal measure in the future. So, until thirteen new States arose from the ruins of the colonies,—when the shrewd Yankees restored the original measure,—thirteen made a baker’s dozen.
There was a time long ago, and if we had lived then, we shouldn’t be living now.In that time there was a law in the world that if a young man came to woo a young woman, and her people wouldn’t give her to him, the young woman should get her death by the law.There was a king in Erin at that time who had a daughter, and he had a son too, who was called Kil Arthur, son of the monarch of Erin.Now, not far from the castle of the king there was a tinker; and one morning he said to his mother: “Put down my breakfast for me, mother.”“Where are you going?” asked the mother.“I’m going for a wife.”“I am going for the daughter of the king of Erin.”“Oh! my son, bad luck is upon you. It is death to ask for the king’s daughter, and you a tinker.”“I don’t care for that,” said he.So the tinker went to the king’s castle. They were at dinner when he came, and the king trembled as he saw him.Though they were at table, the tinker went into the room.The king asked: “What did you come for at this time?”“I came to marry your daughter.”“That life and strength may leave me if ever you get my daughter in marriage! I’d give her to death before I would to a tinker.”Now Kil Arthur, the king’s son, came in, caught the tinker and hanged him, facing the front of the castle. When he was dead, they made seven parts of his body, and flung them into the sea.Then the king had a box made so close and tight that no water could enter, and inside the box they fixed a coffin; and when they had put a bed with meat and drink into the coffin, they brought the king’s daughter, laid her on the bed, closed the box, and pushed it into the open sea. The box went out with the tide and moved on the water for a long time; where it was one day it was not the next,—carried along by the waves day and night, till at last it came to another land.Now, in the other land was a man who had spent his time in going to sea, till at length he got very poor, and said: “I’ll stay at home now, since God has let me live this long. I heard my father say once that if a man would always rise early and walk along the strand, he would get his fortune from the tide at last.”One morning early, as this man was going along the strand, he saw the box, and brought it up to the shore, where he opened it and took out the coffin. When the lid was off the coffin, he found a woman inside alive.“Oh!” said he, “I’d rather have you there than the full of the box of gold.”“I think the gold would be better for you,” said the woman.Then he went home and invited Ri Fohin to dinner. He came with all the men, women, and beasts he had, and they covered the country for six miles.The beasts were fed outside by themselves, but the people in the house. When dinner was over, he asked Ri Fohin: “Have you ever seen a house so fine and rich, or a dinner so good, as mine to-night?”“I have not,” said Ri Fohin.Then the man went to each person present. Each gave the same answer, and said, “I have never seen such a house nor such a dinner.”He asked his wife, and she said: “My praise is no praise here; but what is this to the house and the feasting of my father, the king of Erin?”“Why did you say that?” asked the man, and he went a second and a third time to the guests and to his wife. All had the same answers for him. Then he gave his wife a flip of the thumb on her ear, in a friendly way, and said: “Why don’t you give good luck to my house; why do you give it a bad name?”Then all the guests said: “It is a shame to strike your wife on the night of a feast.”Now the man was angry and went out of his house. It was growing dark, but he saw a champion coming on a black steed between earth and air; and the champion, who was no other than Kil Arthur, his brother-in-law, took him up and bore him away to the castle of the king of Erin.When Kil Arthur arrived they were just sitting down to dinner in the castle, and the man dined with his father-in-law. After dinner the king of Erin had cards brought and asked his son-in-law: “Do you ever play with these?”“No, I have never played with the like of them.”“Well, shuffle them now,” said the king. He shuffled; and as they were enchanted cards and whoever held them could never lose a game he was the best player in the world, though he had never played a game before in his life.The king said, “Put them in your pocket, they may do you good.” Then the king gave him a fiddle, and asked:“Have you ever played on the like of this?”“Indeed I have not,” said the man.“Well, play on it now,” said the king.He played, and never in his life had he heard such music.“Keep it,” said the king; “as long as you don’t let it from you, you’re the first musician on earth. Now I’ll give you something else. Here is a cup which will always give you every kind of drink you can wish for; and if all the men in the world were to drink out of it they could never empty it. Keep these three things; but never raise hand on your wife again.”The king of Erin gave him his blessing; then Kil Arthur took him up on the steed, and going between earth and sky he was soon back at his own home.Now Ri Fohin had carried off the man’s wife and all that he had while he was at dinner with the King of Erin. Going out on the road the king’s son-in-law began to cry: “Oh, what shall I do; what shall I do!” and as he cried, who should come but Kil Arthur on his steed, who said, “Be quiet, I’ll go for your wife and goods.”Kil Arthur went, and killed Ri Fohin and all his people and beasts,—didn’t leave one alive. Then he brought back his sister to her husband, and stayed with them for three years.One day he said to his sister: “I am going to leave you. I don’t know what strength I have; I’ll walk the world now till I know is there a man in it as good as myself.”Next morning he bade good-bye to his sister, and rode away on his black-haired steed, which overtook the wind before and outstripped the wind behind. He travelled swiftly till evening, spent the night in a forest, and the second day hurried on as he had the first.The second night he spent in a forest; and next morning as he rose from the ground he saw before him a man covered with blood from fighting, and the clothes nearly torn from his body.“What have you been doing?” asked Kil Arthur.“I have been playing cards all night. And where are you going?” inquired the stranger of Kil Arthur.“I am going around the world to know can I find a man as good as myself.”“Come with me,” said the stranger, “and I’ll show you a man who couldn’t find his match till he went to fight the main ocean.”Kil Arthur went with the ragged stranger till they came to a place from which they saw a giant out on the ocean beating the waves with a club.Kil Arthur went up to the giant’s castle, and struck the pole of combat such a blow that the giant in the ocean heard it above the noise of his club as he pounded the waves.“What do you want?” asked the giant in the ocean, as he stopped from the pounding.“I want you to come in here to land,” said Kil Arthur, “and fight with a better man than yourself.”The giant came to land, and standing near his castle said to Kil Arthur: “Which would you rather fight with,—gray stones or sharp weapons?”“Gray stones,” said Kil Arthur.They went at each other, and fought the most terrible battle that either of them had ever seen till that day. At last Kil Arthur pushed the giant to his shoulders through solid earth.“Take me out of this,” cried the giant, “and I’ll give you my sword of light that never missed a blow, my Druidic rod of most powerful enchantment, and my healing draught which cures every sickness and wound.”“Well,” said Kil Arthur, “I’ll go for your sword and try it.”He went to the giant’s castle for the sword, the rod, and the healing draught. When he returned the giant said: “Try the sword on that tree out there.”“Oh,” said Kil Arthur, “there is no tree so good as your own neck,” and with that he swept off the head of the giant; took it, and went on his way till he came to a house. He went in and put the head on a table; but that instant it disappeared,—went away of itself. Food and drink of every kind came on the table. When Kil Arthur had eaten and the table was cleared by some invisible power, the giant’s head bounded on to the table, and with it a pack of cards. “Perhaps this head wants to play with me,” thought Kil Arthur, and he cut his own cards and shuffled them.The head took up the cards and played with its mouth as well as any man could with his hands. It won all the time,—wasn’t playing fairly. Then Kil Arthur thought: “I’ll settle this;” and he took the cards and showed how the head had taken five points in the game that didn’t belong to it. Then the head sprang at him, struck and beat him till he seized and hurled it into the fire.As soon as he had the head in the fire a beautiful woman stood before him, and said: “You have killed nine of my brothers, and this was the best of the nine. I have eight more brothers who go out to fight with four hundred men each day, and they kill them all; but next morning the four hundred are alive again and my brothers have to do battle anew. Now my mother and these eight brothers will be here soon; and they’ll go down on their bended knees and curse you who killed my nine brothers, and I’m afraid your blood will rise within you when you hear the curses, and you’ll kill my eight remaining brothers.”“Oh,” said Kil Arthur, “I’ll be deaf when the curses are spoken; I’ll not hear them.” Then he went to a couch and lay down. Presently the mother and eight brothers came, and cursed Kil Arthur with all the curses they knew. He heard them to the end, but gave no word from himself.Next morning he rose early, girded on his nine-edged sword, went forth to where the eight brothers were going to fight the four hundred, and said to the eight: “Sit down, and I’ll fight in your place.”Kil Arthur faced the four hundred, and fought with them alone; and exactly at midday he had them all dead. “Now some one,” said he, “brings these to life again. I’ll lie down among them and see who it is.”Soon he saw an old hag coming with a brush in her hand, and an open vessel hanging from her neck by a string. When she came to the four hundred she dipped the brush into the vessel and sprinkled the liquid which was in it over the bodies of the men. They rose up behind her as she passed along.“Bad luck to you,” said Kil Arthur, “you are the one that keeps them alive;” then he seized her. Putting one of his feet on her two ankles, and grasping her by the head and shoulders, he twisted her body till he put the life out of her.When dying she said: “I put you under a curse, to keep on this road till you come to the ‘ram of the five rocks,’ and tell him you have killed the hag of the heights and all her care.”He went to the place where the ram of the five rocks lived and struck the pole of combat before his castle. Out came the ram, and they fought till Kil Arthur seized his enemy and dashed the brains out of him against the rocks.Then he went to the castle of the beautiful woman whose nine brothers he had killed, and for whose eight brothers he had slain the four hundred. When he appeared the mother rejoiced; the eight brothers blessed him and gave him their sister in marriage; and Kil Arthur took the beautiful woman to his father’s castle in Erin, where they both lived happily and well.
Half-way up the long steep hill that leads from Soden to Königstein, a rough road branches off to the left, plunging suddenly into a valley, and passing through the little village of Altenhain. As you walk down this steep rocky incline, the Taunus Mountains rise up grand and high in ever-changing panorama.At the bottom of the hill lies Altenhain, an ordinary enough Taunus village, save for the beautiful shrine that stands on the high road. There a Crucifix hangs between two enormous poplar trees, one of the most beautiful natural altars in the world. The trees are tall and pointed like church spires, the trunks venerable with age. May the lightning spare these grand old trees, and the winds play gently through their boughs!In this village lived a schoolmaster with his wife and family consisting of a daughter, twelve years old, and a baby boy. They were not really poor; for, besides their income, they had a piece of land to grow potatoes and vegetables; also a strip of vineyard and fine strawberry fields on the Dachberg, the produce of which they sold in Frankfurt for a good price. Moreover, they kept pigs and chickens and geese, and two dear little goats that gave them milk.On a fine September day Käthchen (that was the daughter’s name) was on the Dachberg, helping her parents to gather up the potatoes for the winter. Two sacks stood already full, looking from a distance like funny old peasants. Käthe liked to watch the potato fires that are lit to burn the refuse of the plants, smouldering and crackling in the dry autumn air, and the smoke curling up in the clear sky.It was now about five o’clock, and as she had worked all day, she was tired and began to groan and grumble. So her mother said: “Hurry up and go home now, child, before it gets dark. Fetch the baby (the neighbours had taken charge of it for the day), light the fire, put on the kettle, and peel and boil the potatoes for supper.”Käthe was only too glad to be let off; her tiredness soon vanished as she flew down the steep, grassy slope of the Dachberg, slipping and tumbling every minute. The sun was low, and glowed through the pines and larches, which stand here together, making a wonderful contrast.Käthe found her way across the wet emerald field coloured with patches of exquisite lilac from the autumn crocuses growing there in thousands, hanging out their cheeky little orange tongues. She sang and shouted for joy, and a feeling half sadness, half exhilaration, that comes to us often at the twilight, came over her. She wore a little red skirt and loose cotton blouse, and a tidy pinafore put on in order to cover her soiled frock on the way home. Her hair was ash blonde, and braided in two plaits round her head. Her eyes were dark and deep-set, and were a strange contrast to her hair. She passed over the tiny bridge where the brook crosses the field, and gathered a bunch of wild flowers, meadowsweet and harebells, water forget-me-nots and ragged robin, and made a pretty nosegay. She also picked a graceful spray of hops, the leaves slightly tinged with red, and wound it in and out of her hair. She had forgotten the baby and the supper and all the things for which she was responsible, and was just a little maiden living in her own enchanted land.Now the path wound close by the pine woods, and the air seemed to grow chillier and more solemn. She saw great white clouds resting on the Dachberg above her. She seemed so far away, down in this valley and so alone. But she knew that her father and mother were near, probably watching her from the hill-top; it was silly to be frightened, she knew the way so well.Suddenly something sprang out of the bushes on to the path in front of her. She gave a great jump, but then so did he and she saw that it was only an old green frog. He cheered her up at once, and she began to poke at him with a stick and to sing:“The frog sits in the rushes,The funny fat old man,And sings his evening dittiesAs sweetly as he can,Quark—Quark—Quark.”But as suddenly as he had appeared on the scene, the frog vanished again with a leap and a bound into the dark waters of the little brook that ran along by the side of the way.Then she heard a rustling of the bushes and saw a little red squirrel peering at her with his bright, inquisitive eyes. Round and round the tree-trunk he went, enjoying himself thoroughly, and making fun of Käthchen, playing peep-bo like a baby.The sun glowed through the tree trunks. It must be about six o’clock. “I must hurry up or supper will not be ready when my father and mother come home,” she thought.She then became aware of the sound of footsteps coming towards her along the path.“Probably a peasant from Altenhain,” she thought, and was pleased to think of meeting a friend. But the footsteps sounded strange and light, more like the pattering of raindrops through leaves, and then for a moment, she turned giddy; it seemed to her as if the trees were really rushing past her, as they seem to do when we look at them out of a railway carriage. One of the young oak trees seemed to be running towards her down the path; but as she looked more closely, and her head became steadier, she saw that it was a boy a little older than herself, who came running towards her, and very queer he looked.He had a great mass of brown curly hair tumbling about his head; green ears—it seemed to her, could it be possible? No, it must be that he had stuck oak leaves into his curly locks for ornament, pretty oak leaves tinged with soft red. Moreover he had the bluest and strangest eyes she had ever seen. They shone like wonderful jewels at one moment, and then turned dull and opaque and looked almost dead. He had on rough green trousers, and a white shirt with yellow embroidered braces; his feet were bare and very brown. When he saw Käthe, he gave a wild kind of Indian whoop, and danced round and round her, much to the poor child’s dismay, his eyes flashing all sorts of colours. Her heart beat fast, but not a word or sound would come out of her mouth.The boy then made a deep bow, and took her by the hand. Soon he had his long arms round her waist and was trying to kiss her.Käthe began to cry with fear and indignation, “You rude, naughty boy,” she said, “I will tell my mother of you.”The imp seemed much surprised, caught one of her tears on his finger, held it up to the light and then sucked it, making funny faces all the time. Käthe could not help laughing, and then she dried her tears with a corner of her apron. She sat down on a tree-trunk for a moment and tried to think.Immediately the boy sat by her, and begged her to give him a kiss. He looked quite nice and pretty for the moment, and Käthe thought she had better do as he wished, or he might begin his antics again. So she gave him a motherly kiss, just as she would give to her baby brother, smack! on the cheek. Immediately the queer look went out of his eyes, and a more human expression took its place.“Käthe,” he said, “Käthe, I am but a lonely little imp of the forest, but I love you, Käthe, and I want you to marry me, and live with me always, and be my own little wife. Will you, O will you? O do, do, do,” he said, dancing up and down in wild excitement.“O goodness gracious me, you are certainly quite crazy,” said Käthe, “I will tell my mother of you!” She began to cry again, and smacked him whenever he tried to come near her.Then he seized her by the hand and dragged her after him into the wild woods, till they were lost in the forest.“O dear, O dear, whatever shall I do? what will mother say when she finds no Käthe, no supper, and no baby. Boo-o-o-o!”“Never mind,” said our imp consolingly, “you can’t help it now, you have run away with me you see.”“I didn’t, indeed I didn’t,” interrupted Käthe indignantly.“I will send a moonshine Käthchen to take your place for the night. You are fond of dreaming, aren’t you?”“O yes, mother often calls me ‘Träum Lies’ (Dreaming Liese).”“Well then, it’s all right, she will not notice anything, and you and I will have fine times together. If you won’t marry me, at least, we can get engaged you know, that will be fine fun.”“Hum——” said Käthe, “that would be amusing. We might play at being engaged! that would not matter.”“Have you a gold ring for me?”“O we will go and buy one at the flower shop,” said he.“At the flower shop, that is a funny place to buy rings at,” said Käthe.“Buttercups and dandelions melted to a yellow heat make splendid fairy gold,” he replied.“Ah, then you really are a fairy!” said the little girl.“Why of course, did you think I was a human child like you? What did they teach you at school?”“Reading, writing and arithmetic, history and geography and scripture and sewing,” said Käthe.“But not how to know a fairy when you see one, O my stars!” said our hero.“What is the good of learningTo read and write and sew,To count and do additionIf fairies you don’t know? How do you know a fairy?O by his glittering eye,And by his light, light footstepsYou know when he goes by. O what are school and lessons,My little maiden, pray,If to the land of fairyThey do not show the way?”So he sang, and Käthchen thought to herself: “I’ve always suspected that we did not learn everything at school.”By this time her little head was completely turned; she thought no more of supper or mother or baby, but only wondered with round eyes what would happen next.The moon shone brilliantly through the branches, and she noticed that the trees began to move, and some of them quickly changed places.“Have you ever seen the trees dance?” said our hero. We will call him Green Ears; for I had forgotten to say that being a tree-imp, his ears were shaped like oak leaves, and were green tinged with pinky red. It was peculiar of course, but not so very noticeable on account of his thick curly hair. He was able to move them if anything startled him, to prick up his ears in very truth; then you saw that they really belonged to him.The trees did not wait for Käthe to reply; they formed themselves in long avenues and began a stately dance, something like a quadrille.A soft fairy music was played by an invisible band. Squirrels sprang at intervals from one tree to another, spreading out their bushy tails and uttering strange cries like new-born babies.Birds flew in and out singing and keeping time to the music and rhythm of the dance. It was a strange sight, grotesque yet beautiful; the trees took half human forms and faces; it was funny to see how they joined hands (or branches) from time to time in the dance. After they had watched for some time and the sport had become monotonous, Green Ears took Käthe to the top of the hill, and there they saw the beautiful peaked mountain called the Rossert, bathed in the moonlight.“Well, children, enjoying yourselves on this fine night, I hope?” said a woman of tall and commanding presence. “Will you come home and have supper with me? I am sure Green Ears has forgotten to offer you anything to eat.”Here she chucked him under his pointed chin.The two children, fairy and human, turned and followed her, they felt that she was a person of authority and must be obeyed. Her fair hair fell in waving masses almost to her feet, it was covered with soft feathers, as if she had recently been filling feather beds.The children saw a lighted cottage before them, with red roof and black-beamed walls like so many in the Taunus. A strong smell of honeysuckle was wafted towards them.“This is my wood cottage, it is quite close to the Rossert, as you see. Some people call me the wood-woman, others Frau Holle,” she said. “The Old King (the mountain called Altkönig) is my brother; Olle (slang in German for old) or Holle, it is all the same, we are all relations in the Taunus, you must know!”In front of the house was a dear little garden. The moonlight shone brightly on the flower-beds. The fairies were awake and peeped out with the greatest interest as the children entered.Over the door was written in letters made of light, like those beautiful advertisements of beer and chocolate which so adorn the city of London by night:THIS WAY TO FAIRYLAND.Käthe felt that she was learning more in one night than in all her life before of that strange dream-world on the borders of which we live.The house was so neat and tidy, that it looked as if it had just been spring-cleaned; the windows stood wide open, the moonlight streamed in. A little table was laid for supper.Frau Holle invited them to sit down and they did so at once.Green Ears sat opposite to Käthe staring at her with a wistful expression of adoration and love in his eyes.A chocolate pudding with cream and sugar and a bilberry jelly stood on the table, also rolls which were thickly buttered and spread with various kinds of fairy sausage purely vegetarian in character. Mugs of delicious-looking milk were ready for each child.But the supper reminded Käthe of her home and she felt a little uneasy.However she had at the bottom of all a comfortable feeling that all was right. This is the way with many of our self-imposed troubles, big people’s as well as little people’s. We groan and grumble, and express our views that everything is very wrong, and the world is soon going to the dogs, but at the bottom of all, we know that it is all right, and that all things work together for good.Green Ears began to fidget; he was like a little girl I know, and could not sit still for more than one minute.“Frau Holle,” he said, “Frau Holle, Gracious Lady, we want to get engaged.”Frau Holle burst out laughing: “A mortal child and a Kobold of the forest! nonsense, it’s impossible!”Käthchen lifted up her brown eyes. “We might play at it,” she said. “It would be a beautiful game.”Frau Holle chuckled so much at this that she nearly upset the milk jug.“How do people get engaged?” said Käthe. “I have often thought about it, but I never could imagine how they do it?”“Didn’t they teach you that at school either?” said Green Ears. “My stars! What did they teach you at school?”“Children,” said the wood-woman, “children, do you mean it?”“Certainly,” said Green Ears.“I think so,” said Käthe.“Do you wish to buy rings?”“O yes,” decidedly from both children.“Now listen; there is a passage from my house leading to the shops, most convenient I assure you,” said Frau Holle. “Everything delivered punctually on the premises within one minute of purchasing it. No lifts or motor-cars necessary. You see I know the ways of the world.” So saying she opened the back door, and they passed into a lane lighted by many lamp-posts. These lamp-posts gave a very bright light and had queer faces like the man in the moon. They grinned and winked as Green Ears and Käthchen went by.It was a lovely fair; a fair in fairyland you may imagine how gorgeous that must be!There were stalls on which lay all sorts of tempting things, cakes, sweet and toys. Käthe felt sorry that she had no money.At the flower stall they paused; the flowers were exquisitely arranged, and out of each peeped a little Fee.In big gold letters was written:CONDENSED FLOWERS FOR SALE.As Green Ears asked boldly for engagement rings, a fairy who stood behind the stall, handed him two little gold rings made to fit any finger; they were a new patent and self-adapting, the fairy said.Green Ears was so pleased that he turned head over heels again and again for joy, a funny proceeding for a would-be husband.“Do you know how to get engaged,” he said to the fairy.“Why no, not exactly, but I have heard it is very simple,” said she. “Mother Holle (here she made a deep curtsy), Mother Holle knows all about it.”Käthe looked out of the corner of her eyes at her lover, and wished he would behave with more dignity. Now he was cramming his mouth with sweeties.“Aren’t you going to give me any?” she said.“O my stars!” he said again, surprised; it had never struck him. Imps are usually egoists; that is to say they think first of themselves. There are exceptions, but this is the rule.He went rapidly from stall to stall and returned with his arms full of parcels done up in pink paper which he presented to Käthchen with a low bow. She accepted them with much delight and they fell to munching chocolate together; it was a real bond of union, and they were not the first sweethearts who discovered it.They reached the end of the street and suddenly found themselves alone once more on the slopes of the Altenhainer Thal or Valley.Green Ears sat down by Käthchen, and squeezed himself up closely to her.“Give me your pretty little hand,” he said. “Do you know which is the right finger?”“O yes!” Käthchen knew that quite well, though I have heard that it is a disputed point in Germany.She stuck out her little hard-worked fingers, and he put the gold ring on the third finger of the left hand. It fitted exactly and with a cry of joy Käthchen put the other on his long brown finger.Then both the children laughed and clapped their hands, and danced merrily about. “Now we are engaged,” they cried, “really engaged to be married!”They made such a noise that the squirrels were cross and threw sticks at them for disturbing their early-morning sleep.Then, goodness knows why—let us call it reaction—Käthe began to cry again, great, big drops.Green Ears was much puzzled.“You are clever, now I can’t do that,” he said. “You must stay with me always, and live with me in the woods, and be my own little sweetheart.”“O no,” said Käthe, “I should never be allowed to do that; I must go to school every day, and then I have my exercises to do, and to help mother with the housework; the baby to mind; and—O I am always so busy.”“I will come and help you,” said Green Ears.“But you can’t, you are not real, you know,” said Käthe and began to cry again.“Käthchen,” said Green Ears, and he looked quite serious and thinky all at once. “Listen to me. I will go to the Old King; he is the ruler of all the fairies here, and I will beg him to teach me how to become human. It may be years before we meet again, for the way into your world is very hard for me to find. Yes it is easier for you to find the way into our world, than for us to enter yours; but cheer up, I will dare it and do it for your sake! but O sweetheart wait for me; O wait for me!”“Wait for me, my little sweetheart,Till I come to you again,Win the world for you, my sweetheart,With its joy and with its pain. Wait for me, my little sweetheart,For when falling on the groundI beheld those curious dewdropsTo your heart my heart was bound. All my fairy life is nothing,All my fairy joy I give,Just to hold your hands, my sweetheart,In your world with you to live. Wait for me, my little sweetheart:I will find the way to you,As a grown man I will seek you,Seek and find you ever true.”So singing they walked arm in arm through the long winding valley, till the dawn approached like a golden bird opening its great wings to fly.Käthchen reached her cottage door. All was silent within. “Good-bye,” she said, and their eyes met in one last farewell.“Auf Wiedersehen!” said Green Ears (that pretty German farewell greeting which means so much more than good-bye), and then he stole back down the stony street, kissing his hands again and again to the little girl.In some strange way Käthchen passed through the door of her little cottage; she had become for the time incorporeal; through the touch of a fairy her body and soul had become loose, that is to say, and she was able to enter the house as silently as a person in a dream. She went through the kitchen and up the steep wooden stairs. It seemed to her as if her feet did not touch the ground, she floated rather than walked. She reached her own little attic, and saw the room as if it were a picture, the square window-frame, the branches of the trees outside, the old pictures on the walls that she was so fond of.But what was her surprise to see herself curled up asleep in her big wooden bed!The horror of it made her faint, and she remembered no more until she found herself in her own bed under her own big feather sack. In order that she should not forget her night’s adventures, or think it was all merely a dream, she found a ring of yellow grass wound tightly round her third finger. From that hour, though the ring fell to pieces, the mark of it was clearly to be seen on her finger. It was a fairy ring, you see.Her mother apparently had not missed her, and the baby was as jolly as ever.“What was the matter with you last night, Käthe?” said her mother. “You were dreamier than ever; not a word could we get out of you. You must have been tired out, you poor child!”“But everything was all right, wasn’t it, mother, the potatoes were boiled and the supper ready?”“Why of course you managed very nicely. Now hurry up and let us have breakfast.”Now I feel sure that all the children who read this story will want to know what happened to Käthchen and Green Ears later on.Did he really come back to visit her as a grown man?Did they marry and live happy ever after?Had he green ears as a mortal?But alas the fairies who told me this story, have left these questions unanswered, at all events for the present, so I can only guess at the conclusion.I think myself that Green Ears was pretty sure to succeed in his quest, because if you want a thing intensely enough, you can usually get it.They would make a rather funny married couple, that is true, and we will hope that Green Ears did not turn head over heels on his marriage day.But the fairies assure me that the trials necessary to pass through in order to become a mortal, have a very sobering effect on the character, and so we can think of Green Ears as quite different, though still fascinating and charming.I would have liked to be present at their wedding, wouldn’t you?“O joy when on this solid earthIs heard the sound of fairy mirth!O joy, when under earthly thingsIs heard the sound of fairy wings,When the impossible is true,When I come back and marry you!”
If the round tower at Newport was not Benedict Arnold’s wind-mill, and any one or two of several other things, it is probably a relic of the occupancy of this country by Thorwald and his Norsemen. After coasting Wonderstrands (Cape Cod), in the year 1007, they built a town that is known to historians—if not in their histories—as Norumbega, the lost city of New England. It is now fancied that the city stood on the Charles River, near Waltham, Massachusetts, where a monument may be erected, but it is also believed that they reached the neighborhood of Newport, Rhode Island. After this tower—popularly called the old stone mill-was built, a seer among the Narragansetts had a vision in which he foresaw that when the last remnant of the structure had fallen, and not one stone had been left on another, the Indian race would vanish from this continent. The work of its extermination seems, indeed, to have begun with the possession of the coast by white men, and the fate of the aborigines is easily read.
There was once a king, who was very old; but he had three grown-up sons. So he called them to him, and said:“My dear sons, I am very old, and the cares of government press heavily upon me. I must therefore give them over to one of you. But as it is the law among us, that no unmarried prince may be King, I wish you all to get married, and whoever chooses the best wife shall be my successor.”So they determined each to go a different way, and settled it thus. They went to the top of a very high tower, and each one at a given signal shot an arrow in a different direction to the others. Wherever their arrows fell they were to go in search of their future wives.The eldest prince’s arrow fell on a palace in the city, where lived a senator, who had a beautiful daughter; so he went there, and married her.The second prince’s arrow struck upon a country-house, where a very pretty young lady, the daughter of a rich gentleman, was sitting; so he went there, and proposed to her, and they were married.But the youngest prince’s arrow shot through a green wood, and fell into a lake. He saw his arrow floating among the reeds, and a frog sitting thereon, looking fixedly at him.But the marshy ground was so unsafe that he could not venture upon it; so he sat down in despair.“What is the matter, prince?” asked the frog.“What is the matter? Why, I cannot reach that arrow on which you are sitting.”“Take me for your wife, and I will give it to you.”“But how can you be my wife, little frog?”“That is just what has got to be. You know that you shot your arrow from the tower, thinking that where it fell, you would find a loving wife; so you will have her in me.”“You are very wise, I see, little frog. But tell me, how can I marry you, or introduce you to my father? And what will the world say?”“Take me home with you, and let nobody see me. Tell them that you have married an Eastern lady, who must not be seen by any man, except her husband, nor even by another woman.”The prince considered a little. The arrow had now floated to the margin of the lake; he took the arrow from the little frog, put her in his pocket, carried her home, and then went to bed, sighing very deeply.Next morning the king was told that all his sons had got married; so he called them all together, and said:“Well children, are you all pleased with your wives?”“Very pleased indeed, father and king.”“Well, we shall see who has chosen best. Let each of my daughters-in-law weave me a carpet by to-morrow, and the one whose carpet is the most beautiful shall be queen.”The elder princes hastened at once to their ladies; but the youngest, when he reached home, was in despair.“What is the matter, prince?” asked the frog.“What is the matter? My father has ordered that each of his daughters-in-law shall weave him a carpet, and the one whose carpet proves the most beautiful shall be first in rank. My brothers’ wives are most likely working at their looms already. But you, little frog, although you can give back an arrow, and talk like a human being, will not be able to weave a carpet, as far as I can see.”“Don’t be afraid,” she said; “go to sleep, and before you wake the carpet shall be ready.”So he lay down, and went to sleep.But the little frog stood on her hind-legs in the window and sang:“Ye breezes that blow, ye winds that sigh, Come hither on airy wing; And all of you straight to my dwelling hie, And various treasures bring. Two fleeces I crave of the finest wool, And of the loveliest flowers a basketful; From the depths of the ocean bring sands of gold, And pearl-drops of lustre manifold; That so I may fashion a carpet bright, Adorned with fair flow’rets and gems of light, And weave it in one short day and night, When my true love’s hands must the treasure hold.”There was a gentle murmur of the breezes, and from thesunbeams descended seven lovely maidens, who floated into the room, carrying baskets of various coloured wools, pearls, and flowers. They curtsied deeply to the little frog, and in a few minutes they wove a wonderfully beautiful carpet; then they curtsied again, and flew away.Meanwhile the wives of the other princes bought the most beautifully coloured wools, and the best designs they could find, and worked hard at their looms all the next day.Then all the princes came before the king, and spread out their carpets before him.The king looked at the first and the second; but when he came to the third, he exclaimed:“That’s the carpet for me! I give the first place to my youngest son’s wife; but there must be another trial yet.”And he ordered that each of his daughters-in-law should make him a cake next day; and the husband of the one whose cake proved the best should be his successor.The youngest prince came back to his frog wife; he looked very thoughtful, and sighed deeply.“What is the matter, prince?” she asked.“My father demands another proof of skill; and I am not so sure that we shall succeed so well as before; for how can you bake a cake?”“Do not be afraid,” she said: “Lie down, and sleep; and when you wake you will be in a happier frame of mind.”The prince went to sleep; and the frog sprang up to the window, and sang:“Ye breezes that blow, ye winds that sigh, Come hither on airy wing; And all of you straight to my dwelling hie, These various gifts to bring. From the sunbeams bright Bring me heat and light; And soft waters distil From the pure flowing rill. From the flowers of the field The sweet odours they yield. From the wheatfields obtain Five full measures of grain, That so I may bake In the night-time a cake, For my true love’s sake.”The winds began to rise, and the seven beautiful maidens floated down into the room, carrying baskets, with flour, water, sweetmeats, and all sorts of dainties. They curtsied to the little frog, and got the cake ready in a few minutes; curtsied again, and flew away.The next day the three princes brought their cakes to the king. They were all very good; but when he tasted the one made by his youngest son’s wife, he exclaimed:“That is the cake for me! light, floury, white, and delicious! I see, my son, you have made the best choice; but we must wait a little longer.”The two elder sons went away much depressed; but the youngest greatly elated. When he reached home he took up his little frog, stroked and kissed her, and said:“Tell me, my love, how it was that you, being only a little frog, could weave such a beautiful carpet, or make such a delicious cake?”“Because, my prince, I am not what I seem. I am a princess, and my mother is the renowned Queen of Light, and a great enchantress. But she has many enemies, who, as they could not injure her, were always seeking to destroy me. To conceal me from them she was obliged to turn me into a frog; and for seven years I have been forced to stay in the marsh where you found me. But under this frog-skin I am really more beautiful than you can imagine; yet until my mother has conquered all her enemies I must wear this disguise; after that takes place you shall see me as I really am.”While they were talking two courtiers entered, with the king’s orders to the young prince, to come to a banquet at the king’s palace, and bring his wife with him, as his brothers were doing by theirs.He knew not what to do; but the little frog said:“Do not be afraid, my prince. Go to your father alone; and when he asks for me, it will begin to rain. You must then say that your wife will follow you; but she is now bathing in May-dew. When it lightens say that I am dressing; and when it thunders, that I am coming.”The prince, trusting to her word, set out for the palace; and the frog jumped up to the window, and standing on her hind-legs, began to sing:“Ye breezes that blow, ye winds that sigh, Come hither on airy wing; And all of you straight to my dwelling hie, These several gifts to bring. My beauty of yore; And my bright youth once more; All my dresses so fair; And my jewels so rare; And let me delight My dear love by the sight.”Then the seven beautiful damsels, who were the handmaidens of the princess—when she lived with her mother—floated on the sunbeams into the room. They curtsied, walked three times round her, and pronounced some magical words.Then the frog-skin fell off her, and she stood among them a miracle of beauty, and the lovely princess she was.Meanwhile the prince, her husband, had arrived at the royal banquet-hall, which was already full of guests. The old king welcomed him warmly, and asked him:“Where is your wife, my son?”Then a light rain began to fall, and the prince said:“She will not be long; she is now bathing herself in May-dew.”Then came a flash of lightning, which illuminated all the palace, and he said:“She is now adorning herself.”But when it thundered, he ran to the door exclaiming:“Here she is!”And the lovely princess came in, seeming to bring the sunshine with her. They all stood amazed at her beauty. The king could not contain his delight; and she seemed to him all the more beautiful, because he thought her the very image of his long-deceased queen. The prince himself was no less astonished and overjoyed to find such loveliness in her, whom he had only as yet seen in the shape of a little frog.“Tell me, my son,” said the king, “why you did not let me know what a fortunate choice you had made?”The prince told him everything in a whisper; and the king said:“Go home then, my son, at once, and pick up that frog-skin of hers; throw it in the fire, and come back here as fast as you can. Then she will have to remain just as she is now.”The prince did as his father told him, went home, and threw the frog-skin into the fire, where it was at once consumed.But things did not turn out as they expected; for the lovely princess, on coming home, sought for her frog-skin, and not finding it, began to cry bitterly. When the prince confessed the truth, she shrieked aloud, and taking out a green poppy-head, threw it at him. He went to sleep at once; but she sprang up to the window, sang her songs to the winds; upon which she was changed into a duck, and flew away.The prince woke up in the morning, and grieved sadly, when he found his beautiful princess gone.Then he got on horseback, and set out to find her, inquiring everywhere for the kingdom of the Queen of Light—his princess’s mother—to whom he supposed she must have fled.He rode on for a very, very long time, till one day he came into a wide plain, all covered with poppies in full flower, the odour of which so overpowered him, that he could scarce keep upright in his saddle. Then he saw a queer little house, supported on four crooked legs. There was no door to the house; but knowing what he ought to do, he said:“Little house, move On your crooked legs free; Turn your back to the wood, And your front door to me.”The hut with the crooked legs made a creaking noise, and turned round, with its door towards the prince. He went straight in, and found an old fury, whose name was Jandza (pronounced Yen-jar), inside; she was spinning from a distaff, and singing.“How are you, prince?” she said, “what brings you here?”So the prince told her, and she said:“You have done wisely to tell me the truth. I know your bride, the beautiful daughter of the Queen of Light; she flies to my house daily, in the shape of a duck, and this is where she sits. Hide yourself under the table, and watch your opportunity to lay hold of her. Hold her fast, whatever shapes she assumes; when she is tired she will turn into a spindle; you must then break the spindle in two, and you will find that which you are seeking.”Presently the duck flew in, sat down beside the old fury, and began to preen her feathers with her beak. The prince seized her by the wing. The duck quacked, fluttered, and struggled to get loose. But seeing this was useless she changed herself into a pigeon, then into a hawk, and then into a serpent, which so frightened the prince, that he let her go; on which she became a duck again, quacked aloud, and flew out of the window.The prince saw his mistake, and the old woman cried aloud:“What have you done, you careless fellow! you have frightened her away from me for ever. But as she is your bride, I must find some other way to help you. Take this ball of thread, throw it before you, and wherever it goes follow after it; you will then come to my sister’s house, and she will tell you what to do next.”So the prince went on day and night, following the ball of thread, till he came to another queer little house, like the first, to which he said the same rhyme, and going in, found the second old fury, and told her his story.“Hide under the bench,” she exclaimed; “your bride is just coming in.”The duck flew in, as before, and the prince caught her by the wing; she quacked, and tried to get away. Then she changed herself into a turkey, then into a dog, then into a cat, then into an eel, so that she slipped through his hands, and glided out of the window.The prince was in despair; but the old woman gave him another ball of thread, and he again followed it, determining not to let the princess escape again so easily. So going on after the thread, as it kept unwinding, he came to a funny little house, like the two first, and said:“Little house, move On your crooked legs free; Turn your back to the wood, And your front door to me.”The little house turned round, so that he could go in, and he found a third old fury inside; much older than her sisters, and having white hair. He told her his story, and begged for help.“Why did you go against the wishes of your clever and sensible wife?” said the old woman. “You see she knew better than you what her frog-skin was good for; but you must needs be in such a hurry to display her beauty, to gain the world’s applause, that you have lost her; and she was forced to fly away from you.”The prince hid himself under the bench: the duck flew in and sat at the old woman’s feet; on which he caught her by the wings.She struggled hard; but she felt his strength was too great for her to resist; so she turned herself into a spindle at once. He broke it across his knee…. And lo! and behold! instead of the two halves of the spindle he held the hands of his beautiful princess, who looked at him lovingly with her beautiful eyes, and smiled sweetly.And she promised him that she would always remain as she was then, for since her mother’s enemies were all dead she had nothing to fear.They embraced each other, and went out of the old fury’s hut. Then the princess spoke some magical spells; and in the twinkling of an eye there appeared a wonderful bridge, reaching from where they stood hundreds of miles, up to the very gallery of the palace, belonging to the prince’s father. It was all made of crystal, with golden hand-rails, and diamond bosses upon them.The princess spoke some more magical words, and a golden coach appeared, drawn by eight horses, and a coachman, and two tall footmen, all in golden liveries. And there were four outriders on splendid horses, riding by the side of the coach, and an equerry, riding in front, and blowing a brazen trumpet. And a long procession of followers, in splendid dresses, came after them.Then the prince and princess got into the golden coach, and drove away, thus accompanied, along the crystal bridge, till they reached home, when the old king came out to meet them, and embraced them both tenderly. He appointed the prince his successor; and such magnificent festivities were held on the occasion, as never were seen or heard of before.
There was one on a time a great war, and when it came to an end, many soldiers were discharged. Then Brother Lustig also received his dismissal, and besides that, nothing but a small loaf of contract-bread, and four kreuzers in money, with which he departed. St. Peter had, however, placed himself in his way in the shape of a poor beggar, and when Brother Lustig came up, he begged alms of him. Brother Lustig replied, “Dear beggar-man, what am I to give you? I have been a soldier, and have received my dismissal, and have nothing but this little loaf of contract-bread, and four kreuzers of money; when that is gone, I shall have to beg as well as you. Still I will give you something.”Thereupon he divided the loaf into four parts, and gave the apostle one of them, and a kreuzer likewise. St. Peter thanked him, went onwards, and threw himself again in the soldier’s way as a beggar, but in another shape; and when he came up begged a gift of him as before. Brother Lustig spoke as he had done before, and again gave him a quarter of the loaf and one kreuzer.St. Peter thanked him, and went onwards, but for the third time placed himself in another shape as a beggar on the road, and spoke to Brother Lustig. Brother Lustig gave him also the third quarter of bread and the third kreuzer. St. Peter thanked him, and Brother Lustig went onwards, and had but a quarter of the loaf, and one kreuzer.With that he went into an inn, ate the bread, and ordered one kreuzer’s worth of beer. When he had had it, he journeyed onwards, and then St. Peter, who had assumed the appearance of a discharged soldier, met and spoke to him thus: “Good day, comrade, canst thou not give me a bit of bread, and a kreuzer to get a drink?” “Where am I to procure it?” answered Brother Lustig; “I have been discharged, and I got nothing but a loaf of ammunition-bread and four kreuzers in money. I met three beggars on the road, and I gave each of them a quarter of my bread, and one kreuzer. The last quarter I ate in the inn, and had a drink with the last kreuzer. Now my pockets are empty, and if thou also hast nothing we can go a-begging together.”“No,” answered St. Peter, “we need not quite do that. I know a little about medicine, and I will soon earn as much as I require by that.”“Indeed,” said Brother Lustig, “I know nothing of that, so I must go and beg alone.”“Just come with me,” said St. Peter, “and if I earn anything, thou shalt have half of it.”“All right,” said Brother Lustig, so they went away together.Then they came to a peasant’s house inside which they heard loud lamentations and cries; so they went in, and there the husband was lying sick unto death, and very near his end, and his wife was crying and weeping quite loudly. “Stop that howling and crying,” said St. Peter, “I will make the man well again,” and he took a salve out of his pocket, and healed the sick man in a moment, so that he could get up, and was in perfect health.In great delight the man and his wife said, “How can we reward you? What shall we give you?”But St. Peter would take nothing, and the more the peasant folks offered him, the more he refused.Brother Lustig, however, nudged St. Peter, and said, “Take something; sure enough we are in need of it.” At length the woman brought a lamb and said to St. Peter that he really must take that, but he would not. Then Brother Lustig gave him a poke in the side, and said, “Do take it, you stupid fool; we are in great want of it!”Then St. Peter said at last, “Well, I will take the lamb, but I won’t carry it; if thou wilt insist on having it, thou must carry it.”“That is nothing,” said Brother Lustig, “I will easily carry it,” and took it on his shoulder. Then they departed and came to a wood, but Brother Lustig had begun to feel the lamb heavy, and he was hungry, so he said to St. Peter, “Look, that’s a good place, we might cook the lamb there, and eat it.”“As you like,” answered St. Peter, “but I can’t have anything to do with the cooking; if thou wilt cook, there is a kettle for thee, and in the meantime I will walk about a little until it is ready. Thou must, however, not begin to eat until I have come back, I will come at the right time.”“Well, go, then,” said Brother Lustig, “I understand cookery, I will manage it.”Then St. Peter went away, and Brother Lustig killed the lamb, lighted a fire, threw the meat into the kettle, and boiled it. The lamb was, however, quite ready, and the apostle Peter had not come back, so Brother Lustig took it out of the kettle, cut it up, and found the heart. “That is said to be the best part,” said he, and tasted it, but at last he ate it all up.At length St. Peter returned and said, “Thou mayst eat the whole of the lamb thyself, I will only have the heart, give me that.” Then Brother Lustig took a knife and fork, and pretended to look anxiously about amongst the lamb’s flesh, but not to be able to find the heart, and at last he said abruptly, “There is none here.”“But where can it be?” said the apostle. “I don’t know,” replied Brother Lustig, “but look, what fools we both are, to seek for the lamb’s heart, and neither of us to remember that a lamb has no heart!”“Oh,” said St. Peter, “that is something quite new! Every animal has a heart, why is a lamb to have none?”“No, be assured, my brother,” said Brother Lustig, “that a lamb has no heart; just consider it seriously, and then you will see that it really has none.”“Well, it is all right,” said St. Peter, “if there is no heart, then I want none of the lamb; thou mayst eat it alone.”“What I can’t eat now, I will carry away in my knapsack,” said Brother Lustig, and he ate half the lamb, and put the rest in his knapsack.They went farther, and then St. Peter caused a great stream of water to flow right across their path, and they were obliged to pass through it. Said St. Peter, “Do thou go first.”“No,” answered Brother Lustig, “thou must go first,” and he thought, “if the water is too deep I will stay behind.”Then St. Peter strode through it, and the water just reached to his knee. So Brother Lustig began to go through also, but the water grew deeper and reached to his throat. Then he cried, “Brother, help me!”St. Peter said, “Then wilt thou confess that thou hast eaten the lamb’s heart?” “No,” said he, “I have not eaten it.”Then the water grew deeper still, and rose to his mouth. “Help me, brother,” cried the soldier. St. Peter said, “Then wilt thou confess that thou hast eaten the lamb’s heart?”“No,” he replied, “I have not eaten it.”St. Peter, however, would not let him be drowned, but made the water sink and helped him through it.Then they journeyed onwards, and came to a kingdom where they heard that the King’s daughter lay sick unto death. “Hollo, brother!” said the soldier to St. Peter, “this is a chance for us; if we can heal her we shall be provided for, for life!”But St. Peter was not half quick enough for him, “Come, lift your legs, my dear brother,” said he, “that we may get there in time.”But St. Peter walked slower and slower, though Brother Lustig did all he could to drive and push him on, and at last they heard that the princess was dead. “Now we are done for!” said Brother Lustig; “that comes of thy sleepy way of walking!”“Just be quiet,” answered St. Peter, “I can do more than cure sick people; I can bring dead ones to life again.”“Well, if thou canst do that,” said Brother Lustig, “it’s all right, but thou shouldst earn at least half the kingdom for us by that.” Then they went to the royal palace, where every one was in great grief, but St. Peter told the King that he would restore his daughter to life.He was taken to her, and said, “Bring me a kettle and some water,” and when that was brought, he bade every one go out, and allowed no one to remain with him but Brother Lustig. Then he cut off all the dead girl’s limbs, and threw them in the water, lighted a fire beneath the kettle, and boiled them. And when the flesh had fallen away from the bones, he took out the beautiful white bones, and laid them on a table, and arranged them together in their natural order. When he had done that, he stepped forward and said three times, “In the name of the holy Trinity, dead woman, arise.”And at the third time, the princess arose, living, healthy and beautiful. Then the King was in the greatest joy, and said to St. Peter, “Ask for thy reward; even if it were half my kingdom, I would give it thee.”But St. Peter said, “I want nothing for it.” “Oh, thou tomfool!” thought Brother Lustig to himself, and nudged his comrade’s side, and said, “Don’t be so stupid! If thou hast no need of anything, I have.”St. Peter, however, would have nothing, but as the King saw that the other would very much like to have something, he ordered his treasurer to fill Brother Lustig’s knapsack with gold.Then they went on their way, and when they came to a forest, St. Peter said to Brother Lustig, “Now, we will divide the gold.” “Yes,” he replied, “we will.”So St. Peter divided the gold, and divided it into three heaps. Brother Lustig thought to himself, “What craze has he got in his head now? He is making three shares, and there are only two of us!” But St. Peter said, “I have divided it exactly; there is one share for me, one for thee, and one for him who ate the lamb’s heart.”“Oh, I ate that!” replied Brother Lustig, and hastily swept up the gold. “You may trust what I say.”“But how can that be true,” said St. Peter, “when a lamb has no heart?”“Eh, what, brother, what can you be thinking of? Lambs have hearts like other animals, why should they only have none?”“Well, so be it,” said St. Peter, “keep the gold to yourself, but I will stay with you no longer; I will go my way alone.”“As you like, dear brother,” answered Brother Lustig. “Farewell.”Then St. Peter went a different road, but Brother Lustig thought, “It is a good thing that he has taken himself off, he is a strange saint, after all.”Then he had money enough, but did not know how to manage it, squandered it, gave it away, and when some time had gone by, once more had nothing. Then he arrived in a certain country where he heard that the King’s daughter was dead. “Oh, ho!” thought he, “that may be a good thing for me; I will bring her to life again, and see that I am paid as I ought to be.”So he went to the King, and offered to raise the dead girl to life again. Now the King had heard that a discharged soldier was travelling about and bringing dead persons to life again, and thought that Brother Lustig was the man; but as he had no confidence in him, he consulted his councillors first, who said that he might give it a trial as his daughter was dead.Then Brother Lustig ordered water to be brought to him in a kettle, bade every one go out, cut the limbs off, threw them in the water and lighted a fire beneath, just as he had seen St. Peter do. The water began to boil, the flesh fell off, and then he took the bones out and laid them on the table, but he did not know the order in which to lay them, and placed them all wrong and in confusion.Then he stood before them and said, “In the name of the most holy Trinity, dead maiden, I bid thee arise,” and he said this thrice, but the bones did not stir. So he said it thrice more, but also in vain: “Confounded girl that you are, get up!” cried he, “Get up, or it shall be worse for you!”When he had said that, St. Peter suddenly appeared in his former shape as a discharged soldier; he entered by the window and said, “Godless man, what art thou doing? How can the dead maiden arise, when thou hast thrown about her bones in such confusion?”“Dear brother, I have done everything to the best of my ability,” he answered. “This once, I will help thee out of thy difficulty, but one thing I tell thee, and that is that if ever thou undertakest anything of the kind again, it will be the worse for thee, and also that thou must neither demand nor accept the smallest thing from the King for this!”Thereupon St. Peter laid the bones in their right order, said to the maiden three times, “In the name of the most holy Trinity, dead maiden, arise,” and the King’s daughter arose, healthy and beautiful as before. Then St. Peter went away again by the window, and Brother Lustig was rejoiced to find that all had passed off so well, but was very much vexed to think that after all he was not to take anything for it.“I should just like to know,” thought he, “what fancy that fellow has got in his head, for what he gives with one hand he takes away with the other — there is no sense whatever in it!”Then the King offered Brother Lustig whatsoever he wished to have, but he did not dare to take anything; however, by hints and cunning, he contrived to make the King order his knapsack to be filled with gold for him, and with that he departed. When he got out, St. Peter was standing by the door, and said, “Just look what a man thou art; did I not forbid thee to take anything, and there thou hast thy knapsack full of gold!”“How can I help that,” answered Brother Lustig, “if people will put it in for me?”“Well, I tell thee this, that if ever thou settest about anything of this kind again thou shalt suffer for it!”“Eh, brother, have no fear now I have money, why should I trouble myself with washing bones?”“Faith,” said St. Peter, “the gold will last a long time! In order that after this thou mayst never tread in forbidden paths, I will bestow on thy knapsack this property, namely, that whatsoever thou wishest to have inside it, shall be there. Farewell, thou wilt now never see me more.”“Good-bye,” said Brother Lustig, and thought to himself, “I am very glad that thou hast taken thyself off, thou strange fellow; I shall certainly not follow thee.” But of the magical power which had been bestowed on his knapsack, he thought no more.Brother Lustig travelled about with his money, and squandered and wasted what he had as before. When at last he had no more than four kreuzers, he passed by an inn and thought, “The money must go,” and ordered three kreuzers’ worth of wine and one kreuzer’s worth of bread for himself. As he was sitting there drinking, the smell of roast goose made its way to his nose. Brother Lustig looked about and peeped, and saw that the host had two geese standing in the oven.Then he remembered that his comrade had said that whatsoever he wished to have in his knapsack should be there, so he said, “Oh, ho! I must try that with the geese.”So he went out, and when he was outside the door, he said, “I wish those two roasted geese out of the oven and in my knapsack,” and when he had said that, he unbuckled it and looked in, and there they were inside it. “Ah, that’s right!” said he, “now I am a made man!” and went away to a meadow and took out the roast meat.When he was in the midst of his meal, two journeymen came up and looked at the second goose, which was not yet touched, with hungry eyes. Brother Lustig thought to himself, “One is enough for me,” and called the two men up and said, “Take the goose, and eat it to my health.” They thanked him, and went with it to the inn, ordered themselves a half bottle of wine and a loaf, took out the goose which had been given them, and began to eat.The hostess saw them and said to her husband, “Those two are eating a goose; just look and see if it is not one of ours, out of the oven.” The landlord ran thither, and behold the oven was empty!“What!” cried he, “you thievish crew, you want to eat goose as cheap as that? Pay for it this moment; or I will wash you well with green hazel-sap.” The two said, “We are no thieves, a discharged soldier gave us the goose, outside there in the meadow.”“You shall not throw dust in my eyes that way! the soldier was here — but he went out by the door, like an honest fellow. I looked after him myself; you are the thieves and shall pay!”But as they could not pay, he took a stick, and cudgelled them out of the house. Brother Lustig went his way and came to a place where there was a magnificent castle, and not far from it a wretched inn. He went to the inn and asked for a night’s lodging, but the landlord turned him away, and said, “There is no more room here, the house is full of noble guests.”“It surprises me that they should come to you and not go to that splendid castle,” said Brother Lustig. “Ah, indeed,” replied the host, “but it is no slight matter to sleep there for a night; no one who has tried it so far, has ever come out of it alive.”“If others have tried it,” said Brother Lustig, “I will try it too.”“Leave it alone,” said the host, “it will cost you your neck.” “It won’t kill me at once,” said Brother Lustig, “just give me the key, and some good food and wine.”So the host gave him the key, and food and wine, and with this Brother Lustig went into the castle, enjoyed his supper, and at length, as he was sleepy, he lay down on the ground, for there was no bed. He soon fell asleep, but during the night was disturbed by a great noise, and when he awoke, he saw nine ugly devils in the room, who had made a circle, and were dancing around him. Brother Lustig said, “Well, dance as long as you like, but none of you must come too close.”But the devils pressed continually nearer to him, and almost stepped on his face with their hideous feet. “Stop, you devils’ ghosts,” said he, but they behaved still worse. Then Brother Lustig grew angry, and cried, “Hola! but I will soon make it quiet,” and got the leg of a chair and struck out into the midst of them with it. But nine devils against one soldier were still too many, and when he struck those in front of him, the others seized him behind by the hair, and tore it unmercifully.“Devils’ crew,” cried he, “it is getting too bad, but wait. Into my knapsack, all nine of you!” In an instant they were in it, and then he buckled it up and threw it into a corner. After this all was suddenly quiet, and Brother Lustig lay down again, and slept till it was bright day. Then came the inn-keeper, and the nobleman to whom the castle belonged, to see how he had fared; but when they perceived that he was merry and well they were astonished, and asked, “Have the spirits done you no harm, then?”“The reason why they have not,” answered Brother Lustig, “is because I have got the whole nine of them in my knapsack! You may once more inhabit your castle quite tranquilly, none of them will ever haunt it again.” The nobleman thanked him, made him rich presents, and begged him to remain in his service, and he would provide for him as long as he lived.“No,” replied Brother Lustig, “I am used to wandering about, I will travel farther.” Then he went away, and entered into a smithy, laid the knapsack, which contained the nine devils on the anvil, and asked the smith and his apprentices to strike it. So they smote with their great hammers with all their strength, and the devils uttered howls which were quite pitiable. When he opened the knapsack after this, eight of them were dead, but one which had been lying in a fold of it, was still alive, slipped out, and went back again to hell.Thereupon Brother Lustig travelled a long time about the world, and those who know them can tell many a story about him, but at last he grew old, and thought of his end, so he went to a hermit who was known to be a pious man, and said to him, “I am tired of wandering about, and want now to behave in such a manner that I shall enter into the kingdom of Heaven.”The hermit replied, “There are two roads, one is broad and pleasant, and leads to hell, the other is narrow and rough, and leads to heaven.” “I should be a fool,” thought Brother Lustig, “if I were to take the narrow, rough road.”So he set out and took the broad and pleasant road, and at length came to a great black door, which was the door of Hell. Brother Lustig knocked, and the door-keeper peeped out to see who was there. But when he saw Brother Lustig, he was terrified, for he was the very same ninth devil who had been shut up in the knapsack, and had escaped from it with a black eye.So he pushed the bolt in again as quickly as he could, ran to the devil’s lieutenant, and said, “There is a fellow outside with a knapsack, who wants to come in, but as you value your lives don’t allow him to enter, or he will wish the whole of hell into his knapsack. He once gave me a frightful hammering when I was inside it.”So they called out to Brother Lustig that he was to go away again, for he should not get in there! “If they won’t have me here,” thought he, “I will see if I can find a place for myself in Heaven, for I must be somewhere.” So he turned about and went onwards until he came to the door of Heaven, where he knocked.St. Peter was sitting hard by as door-keeper. Brother Lustig recognised him at once, and thought, “Here I find an old friend, I shall get on better.”But St. Peter said, “I really believe that thou wantest to come into Heaven.”“Let me in, brother; I must get in somewhere; if they would have taken me into Hell, I should not have come here.”“No,” said St. Peter, “thou shalt not enter.”“Then if thou wilt not let me in, take thy knapsack back, for I will have nothing at all from thee.”“Give it here, then,” said St. Peter.Then Brother Lustig gave him the knapsack into Heaven through the bars, and St. Peter took it, and hung it up beside his seat.Then said Brother Lustig, “And now I wish myself inside my knapsack,” and in a second he was in it, and in Heaven, and St. Peter was forced to let him stay there.
This is a chapter that you can skip, if you want to. And really I should advise you to. Nothing of importance happened in the next eighteen years. Of course I am obliged to write a little something to fill in all that time, but you are not obliged to read it. That is where you have such an advantage. I think it is much better for a book to have some parts that can be skipped just as well as not, you get through it so much faster. I have often thought what a good thing it would be if somebody would write a book that we could skip the whole of. I think a good many people would like to have such a book as that. I know I should.Then there is another reason why it will be well for you to skip a little about here. When you get farther on, if you happen to come to something that you don’t understand, you can say: “Oh, this is probably all explained by something in that part that I skipped,” and you can go right on. But if you had not skipped anything and then came to something that you did not understand, you would have to say: “There, now, I must have been reading carelessly and missed something,” and you would have to go back and read the book all through again.In these eighteen years Kathleen O’Brien and Terence Sullivan were growing up. I don’t suppose there ever was another such child as Kathleen. And I should hope there never was another such child as Terence. Kathleen’s grandmother had the most of the care of her, of course, but it was really no care at all. It would have been a pleasure for anybody to have the care of Kathleen. Even when she was a baby she was a perfect delight, and you know what babies are sometimes. At any rate, you would know, if you had known Terence. And when she got to be a few years older, say seven or eight—Well, it is perfectly impossible for me to tell you how good and lovely Kathleen was. It is all very well to try to describe snow-capped mountains at sunrise, or a storm at sea, or moonlight at Niagara, or a prairie on fire, or anything of that sort, but nobody could tell you how good and lovely Kathleen was, so that you could understand it. I suppose she was a good deal the sort of child that you would be if you didn’t put your elbows on the table, or your spoon in your mouth, or slam the doors, or cry when your hair is combed, or tease for things that you ought not to have, or whisper in company, or talk out loud when there are older persons present, or leave your playthings about when you are done with them, or get your clothes soiled when you play out of doors, or want to play at all when you ought to study your lessons, or ask to be allowed to sit up after bed-time, or bite your nails, or cut your bread, or leave your spoon in your cup instead of in your saucer, or take the biggest apple.I don’t say that Kathleen never did any of these things. I only say that she was so good that you would have to leave off every one of them or you would never catch up with her. If Kathleen had a fault, it was that she was too good. If I were going to have anything to do with her I would rather she should be a little bit worse than a single bit better. I am so glad you are skipping this part, because I shouldn’t want you to try to be a bit worse than you are just for the sake of pleasing me. And I don’t mean by all this that Kathleen was one of those children who are a bother all the time because they are so good. She may have done things that she ought not to do sometimes. I dare say she did. I know she did once. I will tell you all about that in the next chapter. She was just a dear, sweet little girl, as bright and merry and healthy as any little girl in the world ever was. And you would think so yourself, if you had known her and were not so jealous. If I should tell you that she was as pretty as she was good, I don’t suppose you would believe me. But she was, just as surely as I am writing this book and you are reading it. I mean just as surely as I am writing it. I am not sure yet whether you are reading it or not.But Terence! Well, the less said about him the better. Still, I suppose, I shall have to say something. He did every one of the things that I have just mentioned. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know any better; he seemed to like to do them, just because he knew that they were wrong. When he was a baby he was more trouble than twins, and bad twins at that. He cried all the time, except when he was eating or sleeping, and he slept only a little of the time and ate a great deal of it. He always seemed to be just about so sick, but it never hurt his appetite and he never got any sicker. After a while Ellen got used to his being sick, and she always said that he was delicate, poor child, and that was why he was so cross and so much trouble.“And is that why he eats so much?” Mrs. O’Brien would ask.“I dunno about that,” Ellen would answer; “I think it’s the kind of sickness that’s on him that makes him eat so much.”“More likely it’s eating so much that gives him the kind of sickness that’s on him,” Mrs. O’Brien would say. “But I tell you again, it’s no sickness at all he has. He’s just one of the Good People, and you could be rid of him and have your own child back any time you would do any of the things I would tell you.”But not a word of this would Ellen ever heed. Terence was her own child, and he might be a bit troublesome, as any child might, but he was not really bad at all, and it was Kathleen, that was always so good, the Lord knew why, that made Mrs. O’Brien think that every child ought to be that way. But there was one strange thing about Terence, and Ellen herself had to admit it. After that very hour, when he was one day old, when Mrs. O’Brien came to see him and christened him, or tried to—she never felt sure till long afterward whether she had done it or not—he was always quiet when she was near. He would drive poor Ellen nearly crazy, in spite of all her excuses for him, when he was alone with her, but the moment that Mrs. O’Brien came into the house he would get as far away from her as he could, and then lie perfectly still and watch her, for all the world, as John said once, like a rat in a trap watching a cat. Ellen said that it was because he always remembered that it was Mrs. O’Brien who had dropped him once. To this John replied: “Then maybe he’ld be making you less trouble, Ellen, if you was to drop him yourself once or twice.” But Mrs. O’Brien said that it was just because he knew what she would do to him if she had the chance.And there was another strange thing about Terence. As he grew a little older, he never could be got inside a church. Father Duffy had never even seen him, except when he came to the house while he was still a baby, and then Terence would scream and kick so, when the good priest came near him, that he never dared touch him. The first time that he came, Ellen told him about Mrs. O’Brien’s christening the child, and asked him if it was right for her to do it.“Was the child looking sick, and as if he was likely to die?” Father Duffy asked.“He was, father,” Ellen answered; “I couldn’t deny that.”“Then it was right for her to christen him,” the priest answered, “and he’ll not need to be christened again. In fact, he can’t be christened again.”But long after that, when they tried to take him to church, he would never go. If Peter and Ellen started for church with him he would run away from them. They could not even hold him. He would get away from them, and sometimes they could not tell how he did it, only he would be gone. And then the only way that they could find him was to go home again, and there he was sure to be, as safe as ever, only he had not been at church. And so, after a while, they stopped trying to make him go.When the two children were old enough to play together, Terence never seemed to be happy except when he was with Kathleen. He did not care in the least to play with other boys. He did not seem to care in the least to play at all. All he wanted was to be with Kathleen. Kathleen never liked him, and she did not like to have him with her so much of the time. But she was too kind-hearted to hurt anybody in any way, even a boy whom she did not like, so she tried to treat him as nicely as she could, and she told nobody but her grandmother, to whom she told everything, that she was not as pleased to be with him as he was to be with her.Terence, in his turn, did not always treat Kathleen well, any more than he did anybody else. He was ill-natured with her and he played tricks on her that were not pleasant at all, and yet he wanted to be always with her. Perhaps it was partly because she was more kind to him than anybody else, except Ellen. For nobody else liked him. And if he was bad-tempered and unkind to other people, it made other people unkind and bad-tempered to him, but nothing could make Kathleen unkind to anybody.“It’s not fair you all are to Terence,” Ellen said once to Mrs. O’Brien, “to think bad of him the way you do. There’s things about him that don’t seem right, I know, but those things don’t show the way he really is. I dunno if I’m making you understand me. I’m his mother and I know him better nor anybody else, and I know he’s different from the way he seems to you, and even the way he seems to me sometimes. And I’ll tell you how I know that. When I’m asleep I often dream about him. And when I dream about him, he looks a little the way he does other times, but he’s taller and he’s better-looking in the face, and he looks stronger and brighter and healthier like. And he speaks to me, and his voice is lower and pleasanter in the sound of it. And that’s the way he’ld be, I know, if he had his health, poor child, and if everything was right with him. And you’ld all know that and you’ld feel more for him, if you knew him the way I do.”This was when Terence was six or seven years old. And Ellen often spoke in this way afterward. She saw Terence in her dreams, and he was a very different Terence from the one who made her so much trouble when she was awake, and yet he was partly the same.And there was one thing that Terence did that almost everybody liked. I might as well say everybody except Kathleen. He played the fiddle. Nobody knew how he learned. There was a neighbor of the Sullivans who came from the same county in Ireland that they did, and he played a fiddle in an orchestra at a cheap theatre. One day Peter had gone to see this man and had taken little Terence with him. The fiddle was lying on the table. The two men went into another room and left Terence by himself. They were talking busily and they forgot about him. Then they heard a soft little tune played on the fiddle. “Who’s that playing my fiddle?” said the owner of it.“Sure,” said Peter, “we left nobody there but Terence.”They went quickly back into the room and found Terence hastily laying the fiddle down where he had found it. “Ah, can’t I leave you alone a minute,” said Peter, “but you must be meddling with things that don’t belong to you? What’ll I do now if you’ve gone and hurt the fiddle?”“Don’t be talking that way to the child,” said the musician; “sure he did it no harm. But where at all did he learn to play that way? That’s what I’m thinking. Have you been letting him learn all this time and never told me?”“He never learned at all that I know of,” Peter answered. “I never saw him have a fiddle in his hand till this minute.”“It’s a strange thing, then,” the musician said. “Anybody that can play a tune like he did that one has a right to play more and better. Where did you learn it, my boy?”“I never learned it at all,” Terence answered; “I just saw the fiddle there and I thought I’ld see could I play it. But it’s little I could be doing with it, I’m thinking.”Peter was surprised enough to find that Terence could play a tune on a fiddle, and so was Ellen, when she heard about it. But they did not wonder at it so much as they would have done if they had known more about such things. They had a sort of notion that one person could play the fiddle and another could not, much as one person can move his ears and another cannot. So they thought little about it. But when Terence begged them to buy him a fiddle of his own, they saved up money a little at a time, and at last they bought him one.Then for days Terence did nothing but play. He played simple little tunes at first, but soon he began to play harder ones. Then he got impatient with himself, as it seemed, and he began to play such music as nobody who heard him had ever heard before. Often he would not play when he was asked, but he would play for hours by himself, when he thought that no one was listening. His father brought his friend the musician to hear him, and he said that it was wonderful. He had never heard the fiddle played so well. Nobody had ever heard the fiddle played so well.And Kathleen never cared to hear Terence play. She did hear him play, many times, of course, and she listened politely, but she told her grandmother that she did not care about it at all. She would much rather hear the poor fiddler of the little orchestra, who had come from their county in Ireland. Their neighbor the fiddler himself was as much shocked as anyone to hear Kathleen talk like this. “Did you ever hear anybody play the fiddle like Terence plays it?” he asked her, when she said something of the sort to him.“No,” Kathleen answered. “I never heard anybody play it like Terence, but I have heard some play it better than Terence. You play it better.”“Oh, child,” he said, “I’ld give all the money I’ll be earning in the next ten years if I could play like he does. Don’t you see I can’t do half the things he does with it?”“I know that,” Kathleen said; “it isn’t the way he plays a bit that makes everybody talk so about him; it’s just the things he does. When he plays a tune it just doesn’t mean anything, and when you play a tune it does.”And that was as near as Kathleen could ever come to telling why she did not care about Terence’s playing. Everybody else said that it was wonderful, but she said that it didn’t mean anything. And when Kathleen talked in this way they said that she was too critical. That is what people will always tell you when you can see through a fraud and they cannot.You will suppose, without my telling you, that as soon as Kathleen was old enough to listen to them, her grandmother began telling her the old stories of Ireland. Often Terence would come and listen to them, too, for he seemed to be less afraid of Mrs. O’Brien as he grew a little older. But it never seemed to be because of the stories that he came; he only wanted to be near Kathleen.Mrs. O’Brien told the children stories about the Good People, and about the old heroes and kings of Ireland who had fought to save the country from its enemies. Terence never liked the stories about the Good People. “Don’t be telling us about them fairies all the time,” he would say. “Tell us about men; that’s what I like better.”“Don’t call them by that name,” Mrs. O’Brien would answer. “They don’t like it, and if you call them by it they may do you harm.”“I’ll call them what I like,” Terence would say, “and they’ll do me no harm. It’s a worthless lot they are, and you know that same yourself, Mrs. O’Brien, if you’ld only think so. They can do no harm to you, or to any woman or man that knows how to deal with them. Why will you bother with them all the time?”And all this made Mrs. O’Brien think the more that Terence was one of them.One day Mrs. O’Brien happened to tell the children a ghost story. I don’t know whether your mother allows you to read ghost stories. I don’t see any harm in them myself, any more than Mrs. O’Brien did, but some people do, and if your mother does, then it is lucky that you are skipping this part. I think that your mother will be very glad that you skipped this part with the ghost story in it. That is, of course, she won’t really be glad, because, since you are skipping it, you won’t know that there is any ghost story here, and so you won’t tell your mother that you skipped a ghost story, and so she won’t really care whether you skipped it or not. What I mean is that if you had read it instead of skipping it, so that you could tell your mother that there was a ghost story, she would be glad that you had skipped—well, what is the use of my trying to tell you what I mean, as long as you are skipping it, anyway? I had better go on with the story.“Once a man was coming home from a funeral,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “As he was walking along the road, near a churchyard, he found the head of a man. He took it up and left it in the churchyard. Then he went on his way, and soon he met a man who looked like a gentleman.“‘Where have you been?’ said the gentleman.“‘I was at a funeral,’ said the man, ‘and as I came back I found the head of a man, and I left it in the churchyard.’“‘It was well for you that you did that,’ said the gentleman. ‘That was my head, and if you had done any wrong by it, it would be the worse for you.’“‘And how did you lose your head, then?’ the man asked.“‘I did not lose it,’ the gentleman answered; ‘I left it on the road, where you found it, to see what you would do with it.’“‘Then you must be one of the Good People,’ said the man, ‘and it’s sorry I am that I met you.’“‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the gentleman. ‘I’ll do you no harm, and I may do you good.’“‘I’m obliged to you,’ said the man; ‘will you come home with me to dinner?’“They went to the man’s house, and the man told his wife to get dinner ready for them. When they had eaten dinner they played cards, and then they went to bed and slept till morning. In the morning they had breakfast, and after a while the gentleman said: ‘Come with me.’“‘Where am I to come with you?’ the man asked.“‘I want you to see the place where I live,’ the gentleman said.“They went together till they came to the churchyard. The gentleman pointed to a tombstone and said: ‘Lift it up.’“The man lifted it up, and there was a stairway underneath. They went down the stairs together till they came to a door, and it led into a kitchen. Two women were sitting by the fire. Said the gentleman to one of the women: ‘Get up and get dinner ready for us.’“The woman got up and brought some small potatoes. ‘Are those all you have for us?’ the gentleman asked.“‘Those are all I have,’ the woman answered.“‘As those are all you have,’ said the gentleman, ‘keep them.’“Then he said to the other woman: ‘Get up and get dinner ready for us.’“The woman got up and brought some meal and husks. ‘Are those all you have?’ the gentleman asked.“‘Those are all I have,’ the woman answered.“‘As those are all you have,’ said the gentleman, ‘keep them.’“He led the man up the stairs and knocked at a door. A beautiful woman opened it. She was dressed in a gown of silk, and it was all trimmed with gold and jewels. He asked her if she could give him and the stranger a dinner. Then she placed before them the finest dinner that was ever seen. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they liked, the gentleman said: ‘Do you know why this woman was able to give us such a dinner?’“‘I do not know,’ said the man, ‘but I should like to know, if you care to tell me.’“‘When I was alive,’ said the gentleman, ‘I had three wives. And the first wife I had would never give anything to any poor man but little potatoes. And now she has nothing but little potatoes herself, and she can give nothing else to anyone, till the Day of Judgment. And my second wife would never give anything to the poor but meal and husks, and now she has nothing but meal and husks herself, and she can give nothing else to anyone, till the Day of Judgment. But my third wife always gave to the poor the best that she had, and so she will always have the best that there is in the world, and she can always give the best in the world to anyone, till the Day of Judgment.’“Then the gentleman took the man about and showed him his house, and it was a palace, more beautiful than anything that he had ever seen. And while he was walking about it he heard music. And he thought that he had never heard music so beautiful. And while he was listening to the music he felt like sleeping, so he lay down and slept. And when he woke he was in his own home. He never saw the gentleman again and he could never find the place where he had been.”“It’s all the time fairies and ghosts with you, Mrs. O’Brien,” Terence said. “Who cares what they do? It’s what men do that counts. I’ll tell you a story now.”So Mrs. O’Brien and Kathleen listened to Terence’s story.“There was three men,” Terence began, “that lived near together, and their names was Hudden and Dudden and Donald. Each one of them had an ox that he’ld be ploughing with. Donald was a cleverer man than the others and he got on better. So the other two put their heads together to think what would they do to hurt Donald and to ruin him entirely, so that he’ld have to give up his farm and they could get it cheap. Well, after a while they thought that if they could kill his ox he couldn’t plough his land, and then he’ld lose the use of it and he’ld have to give it up. So one night they went and killed Donald’s ox.“And to be sure, when Donald found his ox killed, he thought it was all over with him. But he wasn’t the man to be thinking that way long. So he thought he’d better make the best he could of it, and he took the skin off the ox and started with it to the town to sell it. And as he was going along a magpie perched on the skin and began pecking at it, and all the time chattering, for it had been taught to talk. With that Donald put round his hand and caught the magpie and held it under his coat.“He went on to the town and sold the skin, and then he went to an inn for a drink. He followed the landlady down into the cellar, and while she was drawing the liquor he pinched the magpie and it began chattering again. ‘By the powers,’ says the landlady, ‘who’s that talking and what’s he saying at all?’“‘It’s a bird,’ says Donald, ‘that I carry around with me, and it knows a great deal and tells me many a thing that it’s good for me to know. And it’s after telling me just now that the liquor you’re giving me is not the best you have.’“‘It’s the wonderful bird all out,’ says the landlady, and with that she went to another cask for the liquor. Then said she: ‘Will you sell that bird?’“‘I wouldn’t like to do that,’ says Donald. ‘It’s a valuable bird, and then it’s been my friend a long time, and I dunno what it would be thinking of me if I’d sell it.’“‘Maybe I’ld make it worth your while.’ said the landlady.“‘I’m a poor man,’ says Donald.“‘I’ll fill your hat with silver,’ says the landlady, ‘if you’ll leave me the bird.’“‘I couldn’t refuse that,’ says Donald; ‘you may have the bird.’“So she filled his hat with silver, and he left her the bird and went on his way home.“It wasn’t long after he got home till he met Hudden and Dudden. ‘Aha!’ says he to them, ‘you thought it was the bad turn you was doing me, but you couldn’t have done me a better. Look what I got for the hide of my ox, that you killed on me.’ And he showed them the hatful of silver. ‘You never saw such a demand for hides in your life,’ says he, ‘as there is in the town this present time.’“No sooner had he said that than Hudden and Dudden went home and killed their own oxen and set off for the town to sell the hides. But when they got there they could get no more for them than the common price of hides, and they came home again vowing vengeance on Donald.“This time they were bound there would be no mistake about it, so they went to his house and they seized him and put him into a sack and tied up the top of it. ‘Now,’ says one of them, ‘you’ll not be doing us any dirty turn this time, I’m thinking. We’re going to take you to the river and throw you in and drown you; that’s what we’re going to do and I’m telling you of it now, so that you’ll have the pleasure of thinking that all your sorrows are nearly over, as you go along.’“Well, Donald said never a word, but he kept thinking, and those words ‘all your sorrows are nearly over’ gave him something particular to think about, and it wasn’t long till he began to see his way, if he could only get a chance to do what he was thinking of.“They took up the sack and they carried it by turns for a time, but both of them soon began to get mighty tired and thirsty. Then they came to a tavern, and they left the sack outside, and Donald in it, and went in to get a drink. Donald knew that if they once began drinking they would stay inside for some time. Then presently he heard a great trampling sound, and he knew it must be a herd of cattle coming, and he knew there must be somebody driving them. With that he began singing, like he was the happiest man in the world.“The man that was driving the cattle came up to him and he says: ‘Who’s inside the sack there, and what are you singing like that for?’“‘I’m singing because I’m the happiest man alive,’ says Donald. ‘I had plenty of troubles in my life, but I’m going to heaven now, and they’re all over. There’s a blessing on this same sack, you must know, and whoever’s in it goes straight to heaven, and isn’t it myself that’s a right to be singing?’“‘Surely you have,’ says the man, ‘and it’s glad I’ld be to take your place. What would you take from me now to let me get in that sack in your place?’“‘There’s not money enough in the world to make me do it,’ says Donald, and he began singing again.“‘Ah, be reasonable!’ says the man. ‘I’ll pay you well.’“‘I tell you the whole world couldn’t do it,’ says Donald. ‘It’s not every day a man gets a chance to go to heaven. Think of being over with all the sorrows and the troubles of this world, and nothing but happiness any more forever. Sure I’ld be a fool if I’ld give it up.’“‘Oh, but think of me,’ says the man. ‘It’s me that has the sorrows on me so that I can’t bear them. There’s my wife died three months ago, and all the children was dead before her, and it was she always helped me with the farm and knew how to manage better nor myself, so that now she’s gone I can do nothing with it. And I’ve lost money on it till I can’t pay the rent, and now I’ll lose the farm itself, and here I am driving these cattle to town to sell them to get money to take another piece of land and keep the life in me, and yet I don’t want to live at all. Oh, give me your place in that sack and you’ll go to heaven in your own time, if it was only for that one good deed. Give me your place and I’ll give you these twenty fine cattle, and you’ll have better luck nor me and you’ll surely do well with them.’“‘I can’t resist you,’ says Donald; ‘sure it’s you needs to go to heaven more nor me. It’s the truth I hate to do it, but I’ll give you my place.’“So with that the man untied the sack and Donald got out of it and he got into it, and Donald tied it up again. Then Donald went away home, driving the cattle before him.“It was not long then till Hudden and Dudden came out of the inn, and they took up the sack, thinking that Donald was still inside it, and they took it to the river and threw it into a deep place. Then they went home, and there they found Donald before them, and a herd of the finest cattle they ever saw. ‘How is this, Donald?’ they said. ‘We drowned you in the river, and here you are back home before us. And where are you after getting all these cattle?’“‘Oh, sure,’ says Donald, ‘it’s myself has the bad luck all out. Here I’ve only twenty of these cattle, and if I’d only had help I could have had a hundred—aye, or five hundred. Sure in the place where you threw me in, down at the bottom of the river, there was hundreds of the finest cattle you ever saw, and plenty of gold besides. Oh, it’s the misfortunate creature that I am, not to have any help while I was down there. Just these poor twenty was all I could manage to drive away with me, and these not the best that was there.’“Then they both swore that they would be his friends if he would only show them the place in the river where they could get cattle like his. So he said he’ld show them the place and they could drive home as many of them as they liked. Well, Hudden and Dudden was in such a hurry they couldn’t get to the river soon enough, and when they were there Donald picked up a stone, and said he: ‘Watch where I throw this stone, and that’s where you’ll find the most of the cattle.’“Then he threw the stone into a deep part of the river, and he said: ‘One of you jump in there now, and if you find more of the cattle than you can manage, just come to the top and call for help, and the other two of us will come in and help you.’“So Hudden jumped in first and he went straight to the bottom. In a minute he came up to the top and shouted: ‘Help! help!’“‘He’s calling for help,’ says Donald; ‘wait now till I go in and help him.’“‘Stay where you are,’ says Dudden; ‘haven’t you cattle enough already? It’s my turn to have some of them now.’ And in he jumped, and Hudden and Dudden was both drowned. And then Donald went home and looked after his cattle and his farm, and soon he made money enough to take the two farms that Hudden and Dudden had left, besides his own.“And that’s the way,” said Terence, “to get on in this world or any world. Get the better of them that’s trying to get the better of you, and don’t hope for any help from fairies or ghosts.”“Terence,” said Mrs. O’Brien, “there’s a little that’s right in what you say, and there’s more that’s wrong. Depend on yourself and don’t look for help from Good People or ghosts. So much of what you say is right. But Donald was not honest and he got on by tricks, and I don’t want you or Kathleen to be that way. You’ll not get on that way; you’ll only come to grief. But I want you to be kind and helpful to mortals and Good People because it’s right to be so, not to get any reward. The reward you may get or you may not in this world, but it’s not that I want you to work for. And I’ll tell you a story now to show you what I mean.“There was a poor little bit of a boy once, and he had a hump on his back. He made his living by plaiting rushes and straw into hats and baskets and beehives, and he could do it better than anybody else for miles around. I don’t know what his right name was, but the people called him Lusmore, after the flower of that name. The flower, you know, is the one that some call fairy-cap—the Lord between us and harm!—and others call it foxglove. And they called him after it, because he would always be wearing a sprig of it in his cap. And in spite of having a crooked back, which often makes a body sulky, he was a good-natured little fellow, and never had a bad word or a bad thought for anybody.“One day he had been at a fair to sell some of the things that he made out of straw and rushes, and as he was coming home he felt tired with the long walk. So he sat down to rest for a little, and he leaned his back on a bank of earth, not thinking that it was a place that was said to be a rath of the Good People. He sat there for a long time, and at last he began to hear music. It was very soft at first, and he had to listen hard to catch it at all. Then it sounded clearer, and after a little he could tell that there were fiddlers and pipers. Then he thought that he could hear the feet of dancers, and finally singers, and he could hear the words of the song that they sang. And these were the words:“And there were no other words but these, and these the singers sang over and over and over again. And all they mean is, ‘Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday.’ After the singers had sung these words they would make a little pause and then they would go on with them. Lusmore knew now that the music came from inside the rath, and he knew well enough that it was the Good People he was listening to. He kept very quiet and listened, and it seemed a wonderfully sweet song to him, only after a while he got tired of hearing no other words. And he thought: ‘Maybe they’d like the song better themselves if there was more of it, and I wonder couldn’t I help them with it.’“But he knew he must not disturb the Good People, so he waited till one of the little pauses, and then he sang very softly: ‘Augus da Cadine.’“Then he kept on singing all the words, along with the singers inside the rath, adding on his own new line every time:“And that means: ‘Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday too.’“As he went on he sang a little louder and a little louder, till by and by the Good People in the rath began to listen to hear who or what it was that was singing their song with them, and then they caught the line that Lusmore had added. Then they were so pleased that they scarcely knew what to do, for they were more tired of the song than he was, only they did not know what to do to make it any better. And when they found it was somebody outside the rath that was singing it and was making more out of it than they ever did, they wanted to have him inside as soon as possible.“So all at once Lusmore saw a door open in the rath, close beside him, and a great light streaming out, and then there was the sound of wings all around him, and next he saw the forms of the Good People pouring out and flying and whirling around him like a swarm of butterflies. They caught him up and carried him inside the rath, so lightly that he could not tell what was holding him, and he felt as if he was floating in the air. He was a little frightened at first, but when they had him inside the rath they set him up above all the musicians and thanked him for mending their song, and did him all sorts of honor.“Then he saw some of the Good People talking together in a little group, and presently they came up to him, and one of them said: ‘Lusmore, we’ve been thinking what will we do for you as a reward for mending our song, and we’ve decided to ask yourself what it is that you’ld rather we’ld give you. Think, now, what it is that you’ld rather have than anything else in the world.’“‘It’s obliged to you I am for your kindness, gentlemen,’ said Lusmore, ‘but if you’ld do what would please me most in all the world, it’s not giving me anything you’ld be, but taking something from me, and that’s this hump that I have on my back.’“‘That’s easy done,’ said the one of them that had spoken before; ‘come on now and dance with us.’“Well, Lusmore, being crooked the way he was, and always weak, had never danced before in his life, and he never thought he could; but when they took hold of him on both sides and led him out, he found that he was dancing with the best of them, and he felt so light and he moved so easily that it seemed to him as if he was no more than a feather that the wind was blowing about. Then one of the Good People said to him, ‘Lusmore, where is your hump now?’“And he felt behind him for it, and it was not on his back at all. ‘Look down on the floor,’ said the one that had spoken to him, again. And he looked down, and there was his hump, lying on the floor before him.“Then they all began dancing again and Lusmore with them, till he felt tired and then dizzy, and then he fell to the ground, and he knew nothing more till he awoke in the morning and found himself lying on the ground outside the rath, where he had sat down to rest the night before. The first thing he thought was that it was a dream that he had had, but he never had felt so well and so strong in his life as he did that minute. So he put his hand behind him, and there was no hump there. And, what was more, he had on a new suit of clothes that the Good People had given him. Then he went home and told his neighbors what had happened to him, and they could scarcely believe it. But everyone knew that there were Good People in that rath, and there was himself, too, the same boy as before, only without the hump, and so, at long last, they had to believe the whole story.“Well, the news of Lusmore’s wonderful cure was told all through the country, and at last it came to a place a long way off, where there was another boy lived that had a hump on his back. And a different sort of boy he was from Lusmore. His temper was as bad as his body. He was ill-natured and spiteful and lazy, and he would always rather be making trouble than saving it. So when his mother heard the way Lusmore had had the hump taken off him, she thought maybe her boy could get rid of his own in the same way.“With that she set off with the boy and a neighbor of hers, and they came to where Lusmore lived, and asked him would he tell them all about how it was that he had the hump taken off him. And he went over it all with them and told them everything that he did and everything that happened to him. And in the end he went with them to show them the very spot where he had sat down beside the rath, and there they left the little hunchback, and told him to do everything just as Lusmore had done it.“He sat there listening for a long time and heard nothing, and so at last he went to sleep, and then all at once he was awakened by hearing the Good People singing in the rath. And they were singing much better now than when Lusmore heard them first, for they had the song now as he had improved it for them, and they were singing:“And as soon as he heard it the little fellow, not waiting for time or tune, shouted out: ‘Augus da Hena.’ And if it was all put together right that would make it mean: ‘Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday too, and Thursday too.’ Only he didn’t trouble to put it together right, but just bawled it out any way.“Then the music stopped all at once, and he heard the people inside the rath shouting: ‘Who is spoiling our tune? Who is spoiling our tune?’ and out they all came and caught him up and hurried him inside the rath so that the breath nearly went out of his body. And one of them shouted: ‘What shall we do to him for spoiling our tune?’ and another said: ‘Ask him what he wants us to do for him!’ and another said: ‘What do you want from us, anyway?’“And he just found breath enough to say: ‘I want the same that Lusmore had,’ meaning by that he wanted them to reward him the same way they did Lusmore.“But one of the Good People shouted: ‘You’ll get what Lusmore had, then; it was a hump on the back that Lusmore had, and we took it off him, but we don’t want it and it’s easy to give it to you. Be lively there now, some of you, and hand that hump down here.’“And then some of the Good People got Lusmore’s hump, that was hanging up under the roof, and they clapped it on his back, on the top of his own, and then they threw him out of the rath. And there his mother found him in the morning, more dead than alive and with a hump twice as big as before.”“A fine story that is, Mrs. O’Brien,” Terence said, when the old woman had finished. “And why didn’t the one of them get the same reward as the other? Sure he did the same as the other in lengthening the song for the fairies, didn’t he?”“He did the same in a way,” Mrs. O’Brien answered, “but not for the same reason. Lusmore helped them with the song because he thought they might be the better for his help, and that was all the reason. And he did it in a way that wouldn’t disturb them. But the other did it only to help himself, because he thought that he’ld get a great reward for it, and he had no real wish to do them any kindness. Don’t you see the difference between the two of them?”“Stuff!” said Terence.
The three children were lounging with the dogs under the tall blue-gums by the house corner, when the old Hottentot stepped out of the kitchen to find a shady spot for his afternoon nap. Before he could settle anywhere, however, the eldest boy lifted his face and caught sight of a mere speck, far up in the still hot sky, where a vulture hung motionless in the blue.“Oh, look!” cried he at once. “There’s Old Baldy, the Aasvo’el, almost out of sight. Ain’t he just high! I bet there ain’t any other bird can fly as high as he can.”The old Hottentot turned, first to look at the vulture and then at the little boy. “Well,” said he, “dere was one time, dough, when it took a whole big indaba of all de birds to say which flew de highest—him or Young Tink Tinky.”“Young Tink Tinky!” echoed the eldest boy scornfully. “Why! he’s the very littlest, teeniest bird in the veldt!”“Yes, dat’s yust de way Ou’ Jackalse talked,” answered Old Hendrik gleefully. “But he find out ’fore he finis’ dat it ain’t de size but de sense dat counts.”“Well, I bet I could soon settle which flew the highest,” returned the boy.“Mebbe,” said Hendrik. “But anyhow, it took de birds a deal o’ time to settle it. An’ trouble—dere was trouble, too, ’fore dey finis’, an’ de White Owl he ain’t never fly about in de daytime from dat day to dis. He’s mighty big, an’ he’s a mighty ole beak an’ clawses, but he darsent on’y fly about o’ nights since den.”“Oh, now, you must tell us all about it, Ou’ Ta’,” commanded little Annie. “You’ll see how soon we’ll settle it.”“Will I, Ainkye?” answered the old fellow, with his deepest smile. “Well, here’s de tale an’ you can try anyhow. You see, it was all along o’ dese yere birds dat on’y come in de summer an’ don’t stay for de hard times in de winter. De Af’icander birds dat live here all de time dey got to studyin’ about dese outlander birds what yust comes to skim de cream o’ de year; an’ nawtin’ ’ud do ’em but dey’s goin’ to make a King. Dey reckon de King he’ll tell dese outlander birds he’s had yust about enough o’ deir hanky panky, an’ dey’ll ha’ to stop here all de year roun’ or stop som’ere’s else; but dey cahnt do bofe. Dat’s what Kings is for.“Well, de birds dey talks to one anoder, an’ de birds dey gets togeder for a big indaba; but when one ses do dis way, anoder ses do dat way, till dey all dunno what’s it all a-gun’ to end in, an’ at last dey all agrees to ax a outsider to set some way o’ choosin’ dis yere King. An’ what outsider? Why, who but Ou’ Jackalse, o’ course.“But dey’ll ha’ to wait a day or two ’fore dey gets him. De Aard-Vark is invite’ Ou’ Jackalse to a big dwala drink, an’ it ain’t no use to talk till dat’s over.“Well, dis yust suit Ole Baldy Aasvo’el. He don’t say a word, but he sail off, an’ by’n’by he’s a-hangin’ yust over de Aard-Vark’s kraal, where de Aard-Vark’s frien’s is drinkin’ dwala, an’ he hang dere till he sees Ou’ Jackalse a-lookin’ up at him. Den he drops down behind de rise a little way off, an’ dere he waits. He knows Ou’ Jackalse ’ll come sniffin’ out, tinkin’ dere’s meat dere.“Tain’t more’n a minute ’fore here comes Ou’ Jackalse a’ right. ‘Hello! Baldy,’ ses he, ‘where’s de meat?’“‘Well,’ ses Baldy, ‘dere ain’t no meat here yust now. But dere can be lots an’ lots of it for you ’fore long if you an’ me is frien’s dese nex’ few days.’“Ou’ Jackalse is pretty full of dwala, an’ de dwala make him pretty full o’ feelin’ yust a’ right, so he on’y laugh an’ sit down. ‘How come dat?’ ses he.“‘Dis way,’ ses Baldy. ‘All us birds is a-gun’ to make us a King, an’ we’ve agree’ to call you in to gi’e us sometin’ to go by to settle de one it’s to be. You’s to set sometin’ for de birds to do, an’ de one dat does it he’s to be de King. So I’s come to see you about it beforehand.’“‘You is, hey?’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, de dwala warmin’ him up good an’ happy. ‘An’ how is you come now? Is you a depitation, or is you come on your own? Is you here for all de birds or yust for one—yust for Ole Baldy?’“Ole Baldy fair scowl to hear Ou’ Jackalse bring it out full an’ ugly like dat. But he reckon it’s de dwala doin’ it, an’ so he’ll try a bit longer. ‘Well,’ ses he, an’ he gi’en hisse’f a look up an’ down. ‘Don’t you tink I’d be a bit a’ right in de Kingin’ line myse’f? I tinks I’d be full price an’ some change over myself.’“‘You does? Ho! you does, hey?’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, an’ he drop his nose atween his paws an’ fair root it in de groun’ wid laughin’.“You should ha’ seen Ole Baldy’s feders stand up. ‘Yes, I does,’ ses he. ‘An’ how come not, I’d like to know?’ ses he. ‘Anyhow, it’s a-gun’ to pay you a lot better to stand in wid me an’ get me King dan wid any o’ de oders. It’ll pay you a lot de best,’ ses he.“Ou’ Jackalse ain’t got so much dwala in him but what he ketch on to dat word ‘pay’ a’ right. ‘How’s it gun’ to pay me?’ ses he.“‘Easy,’ ses Baldy. ‘If you gets me King, den every bird dat eats meat’ll ha’ to leave you de one half of it. What price me now?’ ses he. ‘Is dere any oder bird can offer better?’“‘Well, dat ain’t bad,’ ses Jackalse. ‘But s’posin’ I bargains wid you, den what’s de plan? I s’pose you’s made some sort o’ plan for me to work on?’“‘Dis,’ ses Baldy. ‘When all de birds at de indaba axes you what dey’s to go by, den you answers an’ tells ’em dat de birds is got wings yust to lift ’em in de air. Well, an’ since de birds is on’y birds so’s dey can rise in de air instead o’ walkin’ on de ground, den de bird dat can do bird’s work best is de best one, an’ it stand to reason de best should be King. So let ’em all fly up, an’ de one dat flies de highest is de King—dat’s fair enough, ain’t it?’ ses he.“‘It do soun’ a’ right,’ ses Jackalse. ‘An’ you can ax de oder birds weder it’s fair or not if you like. Anyhow, it’s a bargain so far—an’ now I’s off back to de dwala,’ and off he pop.“Ole Baldy yust stop long enough to watch him out o’ sight. ‘I’s fix’ dat skellum dis time a’ right,’ ses he. ‘King o’ de birds, eh! See me when I’s doin’ de Kingin’. I bet I’ll make ’em all fly round a bit.’ Den off he pop too.“In de meantime Ou’ Jackalse is a-headin’ back for de dwala, but he hadn’t got half way ’fore up yumps little Tink Tinky. ‘Mawnin’, Oom Jackalse,’ ses he, yust as smart as a new ticky.“‘Go ’way, you spot o’ shadda!’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, in a hurry to get back to de dwala. ‘Go ’way, or I’ll blow you away wid de wind of a wink o’ my eye.’“‘Oh, dat’s it, is it?’ ses young Tink. ‘Well, I was comin’ to see you about dis King o’ de bird business. But if dat’s de sort you is, why I reckon I’ll do it on my own, an’ den I shan’t owe nawtin’ to no such a fathead as you.’“‘King o’ de birds,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, an’ he squot on his haunches an’ laugh till he fair wobble. ‘You!’ ses he, an’ he laugh agen till he fall on his side an’ beat de ground wid his tail. ‘Oh, do go an’ be King o’ de rest o’ de birds. Be King over Ole Baldy an’ de big White Owl an’ all dat lot.’“‘All dat lot o’ big fatheads, like you,’ ses young Tinky, an’ he yust flick down an’ tweak a beakful o’ hair out of Ou’ Jackalse tail. ‘What price dat?’ ses he, as he fly up out o’ reach.“Ou’ Jackalse yump up like lightnin’ struck him. ‘You young squirt!’ yell’ he. ‘I’ll gi’e you King o’ de birds if I gets hold o you.’“‘An’ I’ll show you all about King o’ de birds ’fore I’s done wid you,’ ses Tinky. ‘You tinks you’s yust too smart for common everyday. But I’ll show you yust how smart you ain’t. You wait an’ see.’ An’ off he flick for where he seen Ole Baldy fly up. He knows Ou’ Jackalse come f’m dere too.“Now when Ou’ Jackalse an’ Ole Baldy was a-talkin’ togeder, dey ain’t needer on ’em seen de Hokhi-Khee (dat’s de ladybird) a-sittin’ under a grass blade close by. An’ de Hokhi-Khee she on’y want to keep out o’ sight till dey’s gone, ’cause all de brown lace of her wings is all ruffle down her back, an’ it won’t lie nice an’ straight under dat yella cloak o’ hers wid de black spots. ‘Goodness gracious o’ me,’ ses she to herse’f, ‘I yust ain’t fit to be seen! I hope dese two ole buffers ’ll get away soon.’“So she kept dat close out o’ sight dey never seen her, an’ as soon as dey’s gone she hop down an’ start to get dat lace straighten’ out an’ tucked away nice an’ neat under her cloak, an’ she’s all in a shake an’ a fluster, when down pops young Tink Tinky.“‘Well, I yust do declare!’ ses she. ‘What do you drop down on a body like dat for? You’s got as much imperence as if you was de biggest bird, instead o’ de smallest.’“‘All right,’ ses young Tinky. ‘I may be de littlest bird, an’ Ole Baldy may be de biggest, an’ he may a-bin here talkin’ soft to you. But I can yust dust him down any day,’ an’ you should a-seen dat young Tinky stretch-in’ out first one little wing an’ den de oder, like he’s sayin’—‘Look at dat now’.“But de ladybird ain’t a-listenin’ to none o’ his foolishness. ‘Yes,’ ses she, ‘you ses dat now. But you wait a bit till de Aasvo’el’s King of all you birds, den you’ll ha’ to sing small enough, Mr Tink Tinky.’“‘Ho!’ ses Tinky. ‘So Ole Baldy’s bin tellin’ you he’s gun’ to be King o’ de birds, is he? But we’ll see about dat. Some’dy else may ha’ sometin’ to say about dat.’“‘Well, I never,’ ses de ladybird. ‘If dat ain’t yust like your imperence! P’r’aps you ’magines you’s gun’ to be King yourse’f?’“‘Why not?’ ses he. ‘I’s as good a man as Ole Baldy any day.’“‘You ses you is, an’ you has cheek enough to tink you is,’ ses de ladybird. ‘But wait till you comes to try. De one dat flies highest is gun’ to be King. I yust heard him settle dat wid Ou’ Jackalse. An’ now where’s you? But p’r’aps you tink you can fly higher dan de Aasvo’el—you has imperence enough.’“‘An’ I has gumption enough too,’ ses young Tinky. ‘You yust wait an’ see if I ain’t.’“‘I don’t care what you has if you’ll only go away out o’ dis now,’ ses de ladybird. ‘An’ don’t you come roun’ me any mo’ till you’s beat Ole Baldy flyin’ high.’“‘Den I’ll be King,’ ses Tinky. ‘Don’t you wish I’d come if I was King?’“‘No, I don’t,’ ses she.“‘Den I won’t,’ ses he, an’ off he pops.“Well, de day comes for choosin’ dis yere King, an’ all de birds dey brings Ou’ Jackalse into de indaba, an’ dey ax him what dey’s got to do to find de right one. An’ Ole Baldy look so hard at Jackalse dat he wrinkle all his head an’ half his neck, an’ Ou’ Jackalse he smile back ’fore he speak. ‘Dere’s on’y one way o’ gettin’ at it,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse. ‘Birds was made wid wings so dey could get up off de earth. So if dat’s what a bird’s for, an’ if dat’s de one ting dat make him a bird, den it stand to reason de one dat can do bird work best is de best bird. If you is to have a King den, why, de best bird should be de best King, or de best King should be de best bird, whichever way you likes it. So now de one dat flies de highest—dat’s de one to be King.’“Dere’s a lot o’ dem birds ’ud like to say a lot o’ bad words yust den. But de way Ou’ Jackalse lay de business down dey cahnt see yust where to tackle what he said. Dey all has to say, ‘A’ right!’ an’ dey all ses it, but they don’t all tink it. So dere ain’t no more said, an’ dey all lines up in a row. An dere ain’t nob’dy noticin’ dat nob’dy’s seen Young Tinky yet. But dere ain’t nob’dy troublin much about nob’dy else nohow.“‘Is you ready?’ ses Ou’ Jackalse. ‘Yes,’ ses dey. ‘Den go!’ ses he.“Up dey goes, an’ up, an’ up, an’ up. An’ fust de partridge drops, an’ den de long-tail fink; and de Kurhaan she tink she never did hear no such foolishness nohow, so down she drop too. An’ dat way dey go on, fust one an’ den anoder droppin’ out, till last of all dere ain’t but one left—Ole Baldy.“Ole Baldy he go up, an’ on, an’ on, an’ up, till at last he cahnt get higher; but by jimminy, he is up dere. ‘How’s dis for high?’ ses he.“All de birds look up, an’ none of ’em cahnt say one word. ‘You’s got it,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse, ‘you’s de highest.’“‘Is he?’ squeaks a chinky little voice. ‘Is he?’ an’ dere, where dey’re all lookin’, up pops little Tinky off’n Ole Baldy’s back, where he’s bin hid in de feders widout Ole Baldy knowin’. ‘What price me now?’ ses he, an’ up he go, yards up! ‘How’s dis for higher?’ ses he.“Ole Baldy he turn his head an’ look up. ‘Hello, you speck!’ ses he, ‘what you doin’ up dere?’“‘Flyin’ higher’n you,’ ses Tinky. ‘Dat makes me de King.’“‘King!’ ses Baldy. ‘If I could yust get up dere I’d King you. Come down now!’“‘Oh, oh!’ ses Tinky. ‘So you gi’es in you can’t get up to me! Dat’s done den. I’s King a’ right,’ an’ he comes down yust as cheeky as billy-o, wid his tink, tink, tink, tinky, till he gets to de ground. Den he chucks a leg. ‘King Tinky!’ ses he. ‘Dat’s me.’“Well, de birds dey all drop down an’ dey wait for someb’dy to say somefin’. But young Tinky he hop in front of Ou’ Jackalse an’ he stick his coat tails out. ‘Well, Oom Jackalse,’ ses he, ‘who’s de smart ’un to-day?’“‘I wish I was one o’ de birds you’s bin foolin’,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse; ‘I’d show you which was smart.’“Just den Ole Baldy bounce down in front of ’em. ‘Who’s King?’ ses he.“‘De one dat went highest,’ ses Ou’ Modher Reyer, de Blue Crane.“‘An’ dat’s me,’ ses Baldy.“‘An’ dat’s me,’ ses Tinky, stickin’ his little wings out an’ bouncin’ hisse’f like he was mockin’ Ole Baldy.“‘Look-a’-here,’ ses Baldy, ‘if you ses anoder word I’ll scoff you.’“‘Will you?’ ses Young Tinky, settin’ hisse’f in front of Ole Baldy like a bantam. ‘You will, hey? Well—anoder word—dere, I’s said it.’“Ole Baldy yust look one look at Tinky, an’ den he make one dive to scoff him, straight. But he’s dat slow an’ heavy on de ground he might as well try to catch a flea on a blanket; an’ dere’s him a-divin’ an’ a-floppin’, an’ dere’s Young Tink a-flickin’ an’ a hoppin’, till Ole Baldy fair boil over an’ stand still. ‘Birds!’ ses he, ‘is we gun’ to stand dis an’ have dis little squirt say he’s King over us?’“‘You bet we ain’t,’ ses de White Owl. ‘Is I de King den?’ ses Baldy nex’, lookin’ at ’em all roun’.“But dey all want to say sometin’ to dat, ’cause if dey cahnt be King deirselves dey don’t want anyb’dy else to be it. ‘No,’ ses dey. ‘It was to be de one went highest, an’ we all hear you say to Tinky what you’d do if on’y you could get up at him.’“‘Den what’s a-gun’ to be done?’ ses Baldy, as mad’s a scorpion.“‘Well, we’ll ha’ to study dat out,’ ses dey. ‘We’ll ha’ to hold a indaba an’ see what we’ll do about it.’“Well, dey ketches Young Tinky an’ dey takes him over and puts him into a big Aard-Vark hole. ‘Who’ll we put to watch him now?’ ses dey.“‘Put de White Owl,’ ses Ou’ Jackalse; ‘he’s got de biggest eyes an’ de widest open.’“So dey put de White Owl to guard de hole, an’ dey all goes back to hold a indaba.“‘Why, dis is yust a fine place, it’s so reg’lar nice an’ shady,’ ses Young Tinky to de White Owl. ‘I’s gun’ to have a look for a place to be comfy in.’“‘Do,’ ses de White Owl. ‘Den you won’t bodder me.’“But what Tinky’s a lookin’ for is a place to get out at, an’ he look, an’ he look, but dere ain’t no sich a place. ‘I ’specs I’ll ha’ to do sometin’ pretty soon if I’s gun’ to keep dis side o’ trouble,’ ses he to hisse’f.“Well, dere’s on’y one way out o’ de hole, an’ dat’s de way he come in at, an’ dere’s de White Owl standin’ at it wid his tail dis way, an’ a-starin’ out across de veldt to where de indaba’s goin’ on. Den it strike Tinky what he’ll do. ‘Allah Crachty! I knows what. Wait now,’ ses he to hisse’f.“So he goes to work, an’ he take some dirt, an’ he wet it an’ he work till he’s made a mud mouse. You should ha’ seen darie mouse. If any mouse ’ad a-seen it he’d a-tink it was his grandaddy, it look such a whoppin’ ole mouse. It fair tickle young Tinky so much when he’d finis’ it dat he hatto yust stop an’ laugh.“Den he go to de hole an’ he stick dat mouse out slow on one side o’ de White Owl till it yust come into de tail of his left eye, an’ afore you can ketch your breaf Ole Owl make a lightnin’ of a strike at it—biff!“Well, he ain’t made sich a mighty ole strike since he was a young fella, an’ he strike dat hard an’ he strike dat true, dat he biff his beak right troo de mouse, so dat de mud bung up his two eyes an’ chock up his froat, an’ you fair never did see no sich a splosh an’ sich a splutter in your time. ‘Mak’ los’!’ screech he, an’ it sound like a bushman on de mad. ‘Mak’ los’!’ But de mud mouse ain’t a-sayin’ a word, not a word; an’ Young Tink Tinky’s yust a-gettin’ out o’ dat at de rate of half-a-mile in a hunder’ yards—on’y de White Owl ain’t knowin’ nawtin’ about dat.“Well, Ole Owl he hadn’t more’n got de mud outen his eyes ’fore de indaba’s finis’, an’ here comes all de birds. ‘Where’s dat Tink Tinky?’ ses dey. ‘Fetch him out!’“‘He’s in dere a’ right,’ ses de Owl. ‘What’s you all decided on?’“‘Well,’ ses dey, ‘by de law we cahnt yust say. Ole Baldy ain’t King, ’cause he said he couldn’t get up to Tinky. An’ as to Tinky, he ain’t King ’cause he ain’t big enough nohow. But we’s a-goin’ to hang’ him, so dere won’t be no mistake about him not bein’ King. Trot him out den.’“‘You better trot him out yourse’f,’ ses Ole Owl. ‘My eyes is yust dat full o’ dirt I cahnt see.’“Well, de Sec’etary Bird he cock his eye into darie hole, like a ole crow squintin’ down a marrow bone. ‘Come out o’ dat an’ be hanged,’ ses he. ‘Make hurry now! We ain’t a-gun’ to wait all day for a speck like you.’“But dere ain’t no Tinky come out. ‘Dat’s funny he don’t come out when I shout,’ ses Ole Sec.“Well, de birds dey ses dey ain’t got no more time to fool about. ‘Come on, Ole Owl,’ ses dey. ‘You’s lookin’ after him anyhow. In you pops, den, an’ outs him.’“‘A’ right.’ In pops Ole Owl, an’ out don’t pop no Tinky. ‘By gum!’ ses all de birds.“Ole Owl in de hole he look an’ he crook, an’ he glint, an’ he squint, but he don’t find no Tinky. ‘Dat’s mighty funny,’ ses he, comin’ out. ‘I seen you all shove him in here, an’ I ain’t seen him come out; but he ain’t dere now. He must ha’ spooked!’“‘Oh, he’s spooked, is he?’ ses all de birds, tearin’ mad. ‘Well, we’ll yust make spook o’ you,’ ses dey, an’ dey make a dive for him like one man.“Ole Owl he yust glint one glance at de lot, an’ den he turn an’ he fair make a head fust for it into dat hole agen, an’ dat’s de one ting saved him. De birds dey cahnt get at him in dere on’y one at a time, an’ dere ain’t any one o’ ’em feel like facin’ dat ole hook of a beak on his lonesome. So dere dey sits outside de hole, waitin’ for him to come out. An’ dere he sits inside de hole, waitin’ for dem to come in; an’ so dere ain’t needer in nor out, but dey bofe sits an’ waits.“Ses all de birds outside—‘If you don’t come out an’ let us get at you, we’ll yust about dance on you’ chest’.“Ses Ole Owl inside, ses he—not a word! not a sound!“Well, dey wait all day, an’ dey wait all afternoon, but Ole Owl ain’t a-comin’ out, an’ dey ain’t a-goin’ in. Den it drop sundown, an’ de birds dey ha’ to fly som’eres to sleep. Dey look at one anoder. ‘Yust wait till to-morrow, dat’s all!’ ses dey, an’ off dey fly to deir sleepin’ places.“When dey’s gone Ole Owl comes out. ‘I reckon I’ll hatto get as much to eat as I can to-night,’ ses he, ‘an’ den hide some place to-morrow, so dey won’t see me.’“An’ dat’s yust what he done, an’ yust what he’s hatto do ever since—hunt all night an’ hide all day, for fear de rest o’ de birds see him an’ ketch him, if he move about in de daylight.“So now you knows how it come dat de Ole White Owl can on’y fly at night,” ended Old Hendrik.“Oh!” said little Annie.
Once upon a time there lived an exceedingly proud Princess. If any suitor for her hand ventured to present himself, she would give him some riddle or conundrum to guess, and if he failed to do so, he was hunted out of the town with scorn and derision. She gave out publicly that all comers were welcome to try their skill, and that whoever could solve her riddle should be her husband.Now it happened that three tailors had met together, and the two elder thought, that after having successfully put in so many fine and strong stitches with never a wrong one amongst them, they were certain to do the right thing here too. The third tailor was a lazy young scamp who did not even know his own trade properly, but who thought that surely luck would stand by him now, just for once, for, if not, what _was_ to become of him?The two others said to him, ‘You just stay at home, you’ll never get on much with your small allowance of brains.’ But the little tailor was not to be daunted, and said he had set his mind on it and meant to shift for himself, so off he started as though the whole world belonged to him.The three tailors arrived at Court, where they had themselves duly presented to the Princess, and begged she would propound her riddles, ‘for,’ said they, ‘here were the right men at last, with wits so sharp and so fine you might almost thread a needle with them.’Then said the Princess, ‘I have on my head two different kinds of hair. Of what colours are they?’‘If that’s all,’ said the first tailor, ‘they are most likely black and white, like the kind of cloth we call pepper-and-salt.’‘Wrong,’ said the Princess.‘Then,’ said the second tailor, ‘if they are not black and white, no doubt they are red and brown, like my father’s Sunday coat.’‘Wrong again,’ said the Princess; ‘now let the third speak. I see he thinks he knows all about it.’Then the young tailor stepped boldly to the front and said, ‘The Princess has one silver and one golden hair on her head, and those are the two colours.’When the Princess heard this she turned quite pale, and almost fainted away with fear, for the little tailor had hit the mark, and she had firmly believed that not a soul could guess it. When she had recovered herself she said, ‘Don’t fancy you have won me yet, there is something else you must do first. Below in the stable is a bear with whom you must spend the night, and if when I get up in the morning I find you still alive you shall marry me.’She quite expected to rid herself of the tailor in this way, for the bear had never left anyone alive who had once come within reach of his claws. The tailor, however, had no notion of being scared, but said cheerily, ‘Bravely dared is half won.’When evening came on he was taken to the stable. The bear tried to get at him at once and to give him a warm welcome with his great paws. ‘Gently, gently,’ said the tailor, ‘I’ll soon teach you to be quiet,’ and he coolly drew a handful of walnuts from his pocket and began cracking and eating them as though he had not a care or anxiety in the world. When the bear saw this he began to long for some nuts himself. The tailor dived into his pocket and gave him a handful, but they were pebbles, not nuts. The bear thrust them into his mouth, but try as he might he could not manage to crack them. ‘Dear me,’ thought he, ‘what a stupid fool I must be–can’t even crack a nut,’ and he said to the tailor, ‘I say, crack my nuts for me, will you?’‘You’re a nice sort of fellow,’ said the tailor; ‘the idea of having those great jaws and not being able even to crack a walnut!’ So he took the stone, quickly changed it for a nut, and crack! it split open in a moment.‘Let me try again,’ said the bear; ‘when I see the thing done it looks so easy I fancy I _must_ be able to manage it myself.’So the tailor gave him some more pebbles, and the bear bit and gnawed away as hard as he could, but I need hardly say that he did not succeed in cracking one of them.Presently the tailor took out a little fiddle and began playing on it. When the bear heard the music he could not help dancing, and after he had danced some time he was so pleased that he said to the tailor, ‘I say, is fiddling difficult?’ ‘Mere child’s play,’ replied the tailor; ‘look here! you press the strings with the fingers of the left hand, and with the right, you draw the bow across them, so–then it goes as easily as possible, up and down, tra la la la la–‘‘Oh,’ cried the bear, ‘I do wish I could play like that, then I could dance whenever the fancy took me. What do you think? Would you give me some lessons?’‘With all my heart,’ said the tailor, ‘if you are sharp about it. But just let me look at your paws. Dear me, your nails are terribly long; I must really cut them first.’ Then he fetched a pair of stocks, and the bear laid his paws on them, and the tailor screwed them up tight. ‘Now just wait whilst I fetch my scissors,’ said he, and left the bear growling away to his heart’s content, whilst he lay down in a corner and fell fast asleep.When the Princess heard the bear growling so loud that night, she made sure he was roaring with delight as he worried the tailor.Next morning she rose feeling quite cheerful and free from care, but when she looked across towards the stables, there stood the tailor in front of the door looking as fresh and lively as a fish in the water.After this it was impossible to break the promise she had made so publicly, so the King ordered out the state coach to take her and the tailor to church to be married.As they were starting, the two bad-hearted other tailors, who were envious of the younger one’s happiness, went to the stable and unscrewed the bear. Off he tore after the carriage, foaming with rage. The Princess heard his puffing and roaring, and growing frightened she cried: ‘Oh dear! the bear is after us and will certainly catch us up!’ The tailor remained quite unmoved. He quietly stood on his head, stuck his legs out at the carriage window and called out to the bear, ‘Do you see my stocks? If you don’t go home this minute I’ll screw you tight into them.’When the bear saw and heard this he turned right round and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. The tailor drove on unmolested to church, where he and the Princess were married, and he lived with her many years as happy and merry as a lark. Whoever does not believe this story must pay a dollar.
Many are the tales of prophecy that have been preserved to us from war times. In the beginning of King Philip’s war in Connecticut, in 1675, it was reported that the firing of the first gun was heard all over the State, while the drumbeats calling settlers to defence were audible eight miles away. Braddock’s defeat and the salvation of Washington were foretold by a Miami chief at a council held in Fort Ponchartrain, on Detroit River, the ambush and the slaughter having been revealed to him in a dream. The victims of that battle, too, had been apprised, for one or two nights before the disaster a young lieutenant in Braddock’s command saw his fellow-officers pass through his tent, bloody and torn, and when the first gun sounded he knew that it spoke the doom of nearly all his comrades. At Killingly, Connecticut, in the autumn before the outbreak of the Revolution, a distant roar of artillery was heard for a whole day and night in the direction of Boston, mingled with a rattle of musketry, and so strong was the belief that war had begun and the British were advancing, that the minute men mustered to await orders. It was afterward argued that these noises came from an explosion of meteors, a shower of these missiles being then in progress, invisible, of course, in the day-time. Just after the signing of the Declaration of Independence the royal arms on the spire of the Episcopal church at Hampton, Virginia, were struck off by lightning. Shortly before the surrender of Cornwallis a display of northern lights was seen in New England, the rays taking the form of cannon, facing southward. In Connecticut sixty-four of these guns were counted.At the battle of Germantown the Americans were enraged by the killing of one of their men who had gone out with a flag of truce. He was shot from the windows of Judge Chew’s house, which was crowded with British soldiers, and as he fell to the lawn, dyeing the peaceful emblem with his blood, at least one of the Continentals swore that his death should be well avenged. The British reinforcements, sixteen thousand strong, came hurrying through the street, their officers but half-dressed, so urgent had been the summons for their aid. Except for their steady tramp the place was silent; doors were locked and shutters bolted, and if people were within doors no sign of them was visible. General Agnew alone of all the troop seemed depressed and anxious. Turning to an aide as they passed the Mennonist graveyard, he said, “This field is the last I shall fight on.”An eerie face peered over the cemetery wall, a scarred, unshaven face framed in long hair and surmounting a body clothed in skins, with the question, “Is that the brave General Gray who beat the rebels at Paoli?” One of the soldiers, with a careless toss of the hand, seemed to indicate General Agnew. A moment later there was a report, a puff of smoke from the cemetery wall, and a bullet whizzed by the head of the general, who smiled wanly, to encourage his men. Summary execution would have been done upon the stranger had not a body of American cavalry dashed against the red-coats at that moment, and a fierce contest was begun. When the day was over, General Agnew, who had been separated from his command in the confusion of battle, came past the graves again. Tired and depressed, he drew rein for a moment to breathe the sweet air, so lately fouled with dust and smoke, and to watch the gorgeous light of sunset. Again, like a malignant genius of the place, the savage-looking stranger arose from behind the wall. A sharp report broke the quiet of evening and awoke clattering echoes from the distant houses. A horse plunged and General Agnew rolled from his saddle, dead: the last victim in the strife at Germantown.
There was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn’t open her mouth without scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was a dance either at the burgomaster’s, or at the tavern. As soon as the bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the girls to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday after Sunday just the same.One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to herself: “Here I am getting old and yet I’ve never once danced with a boy! Plague take it, today I’d dance with the devil if he asked me!”She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had invited to dance.Suddenly a stranger in hunter’s green came in. He sat down at a table near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer, he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket, tossed it to the piper, and called out:“Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!”The boys snickered and the girls giggled hiding behind each other and stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn’t hear them laughing. But Katcha wasn’t noticing them at all. Katcha was dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at her, Katcha wouldn’t have cared.The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.“Ah,” sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to part, “I wish I could dance with you forever!”“Very well,” said the stranger. “Come with me.”“Where do you live?”“Put your arm around my neck and I’ll tell you.”Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a devil and flew straight down to hell.At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself with Katcha still glued to his neck.“What’s that thing you’ve got around your neck?” the Prince asked.So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. “So I asked her to dance with me,” the devil said. “Afterwards just to frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won’t let go of me!”“Serve you right, you dunce!” the Prince said. “How often have I told you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!”“I beg your Majesty to make her let go!” the poor devil implored.“I will not!” said the Prince. “You’ll have to carry her back to earth yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a lesson to you.”So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a meadow where a shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so that the shepherd didn’t recognize him.“Hi, there,” the shepherd said, “what’s that you’re carrying?”“Don’t ask me,” the devil said with a sigh. “I’m so worn out I’m nearly dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along comes a woman and jumps on my back and won’t let go. I’m trying to carry her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don’t believe I’m able. My legs are giving out.”The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: “I tell you what: I’ll help you. I can’t leave my sheep long, but I’ll carry her halfway.”“Oh,” said the devil, “I’d be very grateful if you did!”So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: “Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!”When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of the devil and leapt upon the shepherd’s back, catching hold of the collar of his sheepskin coat.Now the young shepherd soon found that the long shaggy coat and Katcha made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of Katcha.Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he’d like to throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he thought he could slip out of it without Katcha’s discovering what he was doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn’t move. He slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn’t move. He unlooped the first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button. Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk! he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.“Where’s Katcha?” he gasped.“Oh,” the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, “I decided to leave her up yonder in a pond.”“My dear friend,” the devil cried, “I thank you! You have done me a great favor. If it hadn’t been for you I might be carrying Katcha till doomsday. I’ll never forget you and some time I’ll reward you. As you don’t know who it is you’ve helped, I must tell you I’m a devil.”With these words the devil vanished.For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to himself: “Well, if they’re all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able for them!”The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing. He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people until the whole land was crying out against them.Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the duke from questioning him further.“Such danger,” he said, “threatens your life and the lives of your two governors that I fear to speak.”“Whatever it is,” said the duke, “speak. But I warn you to speak the truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your life.”The astrologer bowed and said: “Hear then, oh Duke, what the planets foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day, at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you off to hell.”The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.As for the governors, they couldn’t eat a bite of food and were carried from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings in the great world.Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: “I have come, my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they’re behaving themselves now so they’re to be given another chance. But they don’t know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to me and say: ‘What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!’ I’ll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you, though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the moon is full, I’m to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked that he’s to have no second chance. So don’t try to save him, for if you do you’ll pay for it with your own skin. Don’t forget!”The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When the moon was in its first quarter he went to the first castle. A great crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away the governor.Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.“What do you mean by this?” he shouted. “Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!”Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor ordered that they be given him without delay.Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went through exactly the same performance.It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously to rescue him likewise from the devil’s clutches.“Master,” the shepherd answered, “I cannot promise you anything. I have to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place.”The duke declared that with God’s help he would mend his ways and the shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer’s prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for him had changed.Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too soon the fatal day arrived.Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the arrival of the devil.Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:“Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!”Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard, which was filled with a great multitude of people.At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:“What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!”“What do you mean?” whispered the devil. “Don’t you remember what I told you?”“Hush!” the shepherd whispered back. “I don’t care anything about the duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She’s alive and she’s looking for you!”The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.
Salman was a strong and mighty man, He was as large as a hill, as powerful as a giant, and a terrible tyrant. He lived in one corner of the world, but his fame spread terror over all the earth. He had a horse of lightning, and his arms were as strong as iron. He assaulted men in their peaceful habitations, and took tribute from them; none could refuse to pay him tribute, else he would slaughter and destroy the people. In another portion of the earth there was another strong brigand, called Chal, who had a son named Rostom. This Rostom was a huge man, as large as a mountain, and greatly celebrated for his extraordinary strength and bravery. It was only the land of this Chal which did not pay tribute to Salman.One day Chal mounted his horse and started, saying: “Let me go and see what kind of a man Salman is.”After a long journey he met a huge man mounted on a horse swift as lightning; the staff of his spear was as thick as a man’s waist. Chal did not know that this was Salman himself; but nevertheless he prepared his spear for battle. To his surprise, the horseman gave spur to his horse and passed by Chal without even looking at his face. Upon this Chal was offended, and threw his spear after the horseman. Salman turned back, seized Chal, whom he bound under the belly of his horse, and galloped until he came to a tent pitched by a gurgling spring. He dismounted, nailed Chal’s ear to the tent’s beam, and lay down to sleep. Chal was almost mad with rage; he gnashed his teeth and muttered to himself:“He did not speak a word to me, he did not tell me his name. I wish I might know who he is.”Salman soon waked, and asked:“Fellow, who are you?”“I am from Chal’s country,” answered Chal. He was so much afraid that he did not say that he was Chal himself.“Ah!” exclaimed Salman, releasing Chal’s ear, “why did you not tell me before? Go and bid Rostom, Chal’s son, come hither that we may measure swords. There cannot be two men of equal strength; the world must know who is the stronger champion. I am Salman.”Chal returned to his house and sighed deeply. Rostom, hearing him sighing, said:“How now, father? You are Chal and I am Rostom, your son, and yet you sigh! Nay, you must tell me your grief.”Chal told him of his meeting with Salman, and the latter’s challenge to Rostom. Rostom took with him his cousin Vyjhan, and both disguised themselves, assuming the habit of pilgrims. Rostom kissed his white-hoofed horse on both eyes and said to his father:“When I am in trouble my horse will know it and will beat the ground with his feet. Then bind my arms upon his back and set him free; he will come and find me.”Vyjhan, who accompanied Rostom on his journey, was far from being a common mortal. He had a wonderful voice; if he cried in the East his voice would be heard in the West. After traveling for a long time, Rostom and Vyjhan came to a city and encamped upon a meadow outside the town. Rostom was sleeping, when Vyjhan heard a terrible uproar in the city and went there to inquire the cause of the trouble. Some of the people were running like chased deer, some were tearing their hair, some beating their breasts, and all were weeping and wailing.“Why, what is the matter?” asked Vyjhan.“Salman has come, demanding seven years’ tribute that is in arrears,” the people answered.Soon they collected the amount; but the question now arose, by whom they should send the tribute, because Salman would take away the man by whom the tribute was sent, and kill him.“Give it to me, I will take it,” said Vyjhan.Soon Rostom heard in his sleep Vyjhan’s shrill voice, saying:“Help, Rostom! Salman is carrying me away.”Rostom got up and learned from the people what had happened, and lo! his white-hoofed horse came running and stood before him. Immediately Rostom jumped on the back of his horse, which galloped away and soon reached Salman’s tent. Salman, having nailed Vyjhan’s ear to the tent beam, came out to meet Rostom. Then and there took place a duel the most terrible that has ever been recorded in the history of the world. Bows and arrows, spears and swords were cut into pieces. Finally they came near one another, seized each other, and both were entangled in each other’s hair.Up to the present time they have not yet conquered one another, but are still struggling. Now and then they pull and shake each other so violently that the earth quakes, and that is what men call an earthquake; and Vyjhan’s voice is still heard deeply from afar.
In the very early days before there were any people on the earth, the limokon (a kind of dove) were very powerful and could talk like men though they looked like birds. One limokon laid two eggs, one at the mouth of the Mayo River and one farther up its course. After some time these eggs hatched, and the one at the mouth of the river became a man, while the other became a woman.The man lived alone on the bank of the river for a long time, but he was very lonely and wished many times for a companion. One day when he was crossing the river something was swept against his legs with such force that it nearly caused him to drown. On examining it, he found that it was a hair, and he determined to go up the river and find whence it came. He traveled up the stream, looking on both banks, until finally he found the woman, and he was very happy to think that at last he could have a companion.They were married and had many children, who are the Mandaya still living along the Mayo River.
Author’s note: This story comes from Sweden.Once upon a time there was a king who travelled to a strange country, where he married a queen. When they had been married some time the queen had a daughter, which gave rise to much joy through the whole land, for all people liked the king, he was so kind and just. As the child was born there came an old woman into the room. She was of a strange appearance, and nobody could guess where she came from, or to what place she was going. This old woman declared that the royal child must not be taken out under the sky until it was fifteen years old. If she was she would be in danger of being carried away by the giants of the mountains.The king, when he was told what the woman had said, heeded her words, and set a guard to see that the princess did not come out into the open air.In a short time the queen bore another daughter, and there was again much joy in the land. The old woman once more made her appearance, and she said that the king must not let the young princess go out under the sky before she was fifteen.The queen had a third daughter, and the third time the old woman came, warning the king respecting this child as she had done regarding the two former. The king was much distressed, for he loved his children more than anything else in the world. So he gave strict orders that the three princesses should be always kept indoors, and he commanded that every one should respect his edict.A considerable time passed by, and the princesses grew up to be the most beautiful girls that could be seen far or near. Then a war began, and the king had to leave his home.One day, while he was away at the seat of war, the three princesses sat at a window looking at how the sun shone on the flowers in the garden. They felt that they would like very much to go and play among the flowers, and they begged the guards to let them out for a little while to walk in the garden. The guards refused, for they were afraid of the king, but the girls begged of them so prettily and so earnestly that they could not long refuse them, so they let them do as they wished. The princesses were delighted, and ran out into the garden, but their pleasure was short-lived. Scarcely had they got into the open air when a cloud came down and carried them off, and no one could find them again, though they searched the wide world over.The whole of the people mourned, and the king, as you may imagine, was very much grieved when, on his return home, he learned what had happened. However, there is an old saying, “What’s done cannot be undone,” so the king had to let matters remain as they were. As no one could advise him how to recover his daughters, the king caused proclamation to be made throughout the land that whoever should bring them back to him from the power of the mountain-giants should have one of them for his wife, and half the kingdom as a wedding present. As soon as this proclamation was made in the neighbouring countries many young warriors went out, with servants and horses, to look for the three princesses. There were at the king’s court at that time two foreign princes and they started off too, to see how fortunate they might be. They put on fine armour, and took costly weapons, and they boasted of what they would do, and how they would never come back until they had accomplished their purpose.We will leave these two princes to wander here and there in their search, and look at what was passing in another place. Deep down in the heart of a wild wood there dwelt at that time an old woman who had an only son, who used daily to attend to his mother’s three hogs. As the lad roamed through the forest, he one day cut a little pipe to play on. He found much pleasure in the music, and he played so well that the notes charmed all who heard him. The boy was well built, of an honest heart, and feared nothing.One day it chanced that, as he was sitting in the wood playing on his pipe, while his three hogs grubbed among the roots of the pine-trees, a very old man came along. He had a beard so long that it reached to his waist, and a large dog accompanied him. When the lad saw the dog he said to himself—“I wish I had a dog like that as a companion here in the wood. Then there would be no danger.”The old man knew what the boy thought, and he said—“I have come to ask you to let me give you my dog for one of your hogs.”The lad was ready to close the bargain, and gave a gray hog in exchange for the big dog. As he was going the old man said—“I think you will be satisfied with your bargain. The dog is not like other dogs. His name is Hold-fast, and if you tell him to hold, hold he will whatever it may be, were it even the fiercest giant.”Then he departed, and the lad thought that for once, at all events, fortune had been kind to him.When evening had come, the lad called his dog, and drove the hogs to his home in the forest. When the old woman learnt how her son had given away the gray hog for a dog, she flew into a great rage, and gave him a good beating. The lad begged her to be quiet, but it was of no use, for she only seemed to get the more angry. When the boy saw that it was no good pleading, he called to the dog—“Hold fast.”The dog at once rushed forward, and, seizing the old woman, held her so firmly that she could not move; but he did her no harm. The old woman now had to promise that she would agree to what her son had done; but she could not help thinking that she had suffered a great misfortune in losing her fat gray hog.The next day the boy went once more to the forest with his dog and the two hogs. When he arrived there he sat down and played upon his pipe as usual, and the dog danced to the music in such a wonderful manner that it was quite amazing. While he thus sat, the old man with the gray beard came up to him out of the forest. He was accompanied by a dog as large as the former one. When the boy saw the fine animal, he said to himself—“I wish I had that dog as a companion in this wood. Then there would be no danger.”The old man knew what he thought, and said—“I have come to ask you to let me give you my dog for one of your hogs.”The boy did not hesitate long, but agreed to the bargain. He got the big dog, and the man took the hog in exchange. As he went, the old man said—“I think you will be satisfied with your bargain. The dog is not like other dogs. He is called Tear, and if you tell him to tear, tear he will in pieces whatever it be, even the fiercest mountain giant.”Then he departed, and the boy was glad at heart, thinking he had made a good bargain, though he well knew his old mother would not be much pleased at it.Towards evening he went home, and his mother was not a bit less angry than she had been on the previous day. She dared not beat her son, however, for his big dogs made her afraid. It usually happens that when women have scolded enough they at last give in. So it was now. The boy and his mother became friends once more; but the old woman thought she had sustained such a loss as could never again be made good.The boy went to the forest again with the hog and the two dogs. He was very happy, and, sitting down on the trunk of a tree he played, as usual, on his pipe; and the dogs danced in such fine fashion that it was a treat to look at them. While the boy thus sat amusing himself, the old man with the gray beard again appeared out of the forest. He had with him a third dog as large as either of the others. When the boy saw it, he said to himself—“I wish I had that dog as a companion in this wood. Then there would be no danger.”The old man said—“I came because I wished you to see my dog, for I well know you would like to have him.”The lad was ready enough, and the bargain was made. So he got the big dog, giving his last hog for it. The old man then departed, saying—“I think you will be satisfied with your bargain. The dog is not like other dogs. He is called Quick-ear, and so quick does he hear, that he knows all that takes place, be it ever so many miles away. Why, he hears even the trees and the grass growing in the fields!”Then the old man went off, and the lad felt very happy, for he thought he had nothing now to be afraid of.As evening came on the boy went home, and his mother was sorely grieved when she found her son had parted with her all; but he told her to bid farewell to sorrow, saying that he would see she had no loss. The lad spoke so well that the old woman was quite pleased. At daybreak the lad went out a-hunting with his two dogs, and in the evening he came back with as much game as he could carry. He hunted till his mother’s larder was well stocked, then he bade her farewell, telling her he was going to travel to see what fortune had in store for him, and called his dogs to him.He travelled on over hills, and along gloomy roads, till he got deep in a dark forest. There the old man with the gray beard met him. The lad was very glad to fall in with him again, and said to him—“Good-day, father. I thank you for our last meeting.”“Good-day,” answered the old man. “Where are you going?”“I am going into the world,” said the boy, “to see what fortune I shall have.”“Go on,” said the old man, “and you will come to a royal palace; there you will have a change of fortune.”With that they parted; but the lad paid good heed to the old man’s words, and kept on his way. When he came to a house, he played on his pipe while his dogs danced, and so he got food and shelter, and whatever he wanted.Having travelled for some days, he at last entered a large city, through the streets of which great crowds of people were passing. The lad wondered what was the cause of all this. At last he came to where proclamation was being made, that whoever should rescue the three princesses from the hands of the mountain giants should have one of them for his wife and half the kingdom with her. Then the lad remembered what the old man had told him, and understood what he meant. He called his dogs to him, and went on till he came to the palace. There, from the time that the princesses disappeared, the place had been filled with sorrow and mourning, and the king and the queen grieved more than all the others. The boy entered the palace, and begged to be allowed to play to the king and show him his dogs. The people of the palace were much pleased at this, for they thought it might do something to make the king forget his grief. So they let him go in and show what he could do. When the king heard how he played, and saw how wonderfully his dogs danced, he was so merry that no one had seen him so during the seven long years that had passed since he lost his daughters. When the dancing was finished, the king asked the boy what he should give him as a return for the amusement he had given them.“My lord king,” said the boy, “I am not come here for silver, goods, or gold! I ask one thing of you, that you will give me leave to go and seek the three princesses who are now in the hands of the mountain giants.” When the king heard this he knit his brow—”So you think,” said he, “that you can restore my daughters. The task is a dangerous one, and men who were better than you have suffered in it. If, however, any one save the princesses I will never break my word.”The lad thought these words kingly and honest. He bade farewell to the king and set out, determined that he would not rest till he had found what he wanted.He travelled through many great countries without any extraordinary adventure, and wherever he went his dogs went with him. Quick-ear ran and heard what there was to hear in the place; Hold-fast carried the bag; and on Tear, who was the strongest of the three, the lad rode when he was tired. One day Quick-ear came running fast to his master to tell him that he had been near a high mountain, and had heard one of the princesses spinning within it. The giant, Quick-ear said, was not at home. At this the boy felt very glad, and he made haste to the mountain with his dogs. When they were come to it, Quick-ear said—“We have no time to lose. The giant is only ten miles away, and I can hear his horse’s golden shoes beating on the stones.”The lad at once ordered his dogs to break in the door of the mountain, which they did. He entered, and saw a beautiful maiden who sat spinning gold thread on a spindle of gold. He stepped forward and spoke to her. She was much astonished, and said—”Who are you, that dare to come into the giant’s hall? For seven long years have I lived here, and never during that time have I looked on a human being. Run away, for Heaven’s sake, before the giant comes, or you will lose your life.”The boy told her his errand, and said he would await the troll’s coming. While they were talking, the giant came, riding on his gold-shod horse, and stopped outside the mountain. When he saw that the door was open he was very angry, and called out, in such a voice that the whole mountain shook to its base, “Who has broken open my door?” The boy boldly answered—“I did it, and now I will break you too. Hold-fast, hold him fast; Tear and Quick-ear, tear him into a thousand pieces!”Hardly had he spoken the words when the three dogs rushed forward, threw themselves on the giant, and tore him into numberless pieces. The princess was very glad, and said—“Heaven be thanked! Now I am free.” She threw herself on the lad’s neck and kissed him. The lad would not stop in the place, so he saddled the giant’s horses, put on them all the goods and gold he found, and set off with the beautiful young princess. They travelled together for a long time, the lad waiting on the maiden with that respect and attention that such a noble lady deserved.It chanced one day that Quick-ear, who had gone before to obtain news, came running fast to his master and informed him that he had been to a high mountain, and had heard another of the king’s daughters sitting within it spinning gold thread. The giant, he said, was not at home. The lad was well pleased to hear this, and hastened to the mountain with his three dogs. When they arrived there, Quick-ear said—“We have no time to waste. The giant is but eight miles off. I can hear the sound of his horse’s gold shoes on the stones!”The lad ordered the dogs to break in the door, and when they had done so he entered and found a beautiful maiden sitting in the hall, winding gold thread. The lad stepped forward and spoke to her. She was much surprised, and said—“Who are you, who dare to come into the giant’s dwelling? Seven long years have I lived here, and never during that time have I looked on a human being. Run away, for Heaven’s sake, before the giant comes, or you will lose your life.”The lad told her why he had come, and said he would wait for the giant’s return home.In the midst of their talk the giant came, riding on his gold-shod horse, and stopped outside the mountain. When he saw the door was open he was in a great rage, and called out with such a voice that the mountain shook to its base.“Who,” said he, “has broken open my door?” The lad answered boldly—“I did it, and now I will break you. Hold-fast, hold him fast; Tear and Quick-ear, tear him into a thousand pieces!” The dogs straightway sprang forward and threw themselves on the giant, and tore him into pieces as numberless as are the leaves which fall in the autumn. Then the princess was very glad, and said—“Heaven be thanked! Now I am free!” She threw herself on the lad’s neck and kissed him. He led her to her sister, and one can well imagine how glad they were to meet. The lad took all the treasures that the giant’s dwelling contained, put them on the gold-shod horses, and set out with the two princesses.They again travelled a great distance, and the youth waited on the princesses with the respect and care they deserved.It chanced one day that Quick-ear, who went before to get news, came running fast to his master, and told him he had been near a high mountain, and had heard the third princess sitting within, spinning cloth of gold. The giant himself was not in. The youth was well pleased to hear this, and he hurried to the mountain accompanied by his dogs. When they came there, Quick-ear said—“There is no time to be lost. The giant is not more than five miles off. I well know it. I hear the sound of his horse’s gold shoes on the stones.”The lad told his dogs to break in the door, and they did so. When he entered the mountain he saw there a maiden, sitting and weaving cloth of gold. She was so beautiful that the lad thought another such could not be found in the world. He advanced and spoke to her. The young princess was much astonished, and said—“Who are you, who dare to come into the giant’s hall? For seven long years have I lived here, and never during that time have I looked on a human being. For Heaven’s sake,” added she, “run away before the giant comes, or he will kill you!”The lad, however, was brave, and said that he would lay down his life for the beautiful princess.In the middle of their talk home came the giant, riding on his horse with the golden shoes, and stopped at the mountain. When he came in and saw what unwelcome visitors were there he was very much afraid, for he knew what had happened to his brethren. He thought it best to be careful and cunning, for he dared not act openly. He began therefore with fine words, and was very smooth and amiable. He told the princess to dress meat, so that he might entertain the guest, and behaved in such a friendly manner that the lad was perfectly deceived, and forgot to be on his guard. He sat down at the table with the giant. The princess wept in secret, and the dogs were very uneasy, but no one noticed it.When the giant and his guest had finished the meal, the youth said—“I am no longer hungry. Give me something to drink.”“There is,” said the giant, “a spring up in the mountain which runs with sparkling wine, but I have no one to fetch of it.”“If that is all,” said the lad, “one of my dogs can go up there.”The giant laughed in his false heart when he heard that, for what he wanted was that the lad should send away his dogs. The lad told Hold-fast to go for the wine, and the giant gave him a large jug. The dog went, but one might see that he did so very unwillingly.Time went on and on, but the dog did not come back. After some time the giant said—“I wonder why the dog is so long away. It might, perhaps, be as well to let another dog go to help him. He has to go a long distance, and the jug is a heavy one to carry.”The lad, suspecting no trickery, fell in with the giant’s suggestion, and told Tear to go and see why Hold-fast did not come. The dog wagged his tail and did not want to leave his master, but he noticed it, and drove him off to the spring. The giant laughed to himself, and the princess wept, but the lad did not mark it, being very merry, jested with his entertainer, and did not dream of any danger.A long time passed, but neither the wine nor the dogs appeared.“I can well see,” said the giant, “that your dogs do not do what you tell them, or we should not sit here thirsty. It seems to me it would be best to send Quick-ear to ascertain why they don’t come back.”The lad was nettled at that, and ordered his third dog to go in haste to the spring. Quick-ear did not want to go, but whined and crept to his master’s feet. Then the lad became angry, and drove him away. The dog had to obey, so away he set in great haste to the top of the mountain. When he reached it, it happened to him as it had to the others. There arose a high wall around him, and he was made a prisoner by the giant’s sorcery.When all the three dogs were gone, the giant stood up, put on a different look, and gripped his bright sword which hung upon the wall.“Now will I avenge my brethren,” said he, “and you shall die this instant, for you are in my hands.”The lad was frightened, and repented that he had parted with his dogs.“I will not ask my life,” said he, “for I must die some day. I only ask one thing, that I may say myPaternoster and play a psalm on my pipe. That is the custom in my country.”The giant granted him his wish, but said he would not wait long. The lad knelt down, and devoutly said hisPaternoster, and began to play upon his pipe so that it was heard over hill and dale. That instant the magic lost its power, and the dogs were once more set free. They came down like a blast of wind, and rushed into the mountain. Then the lad sprang up and cried—“Hold-fast, hold him; Tear and Quick-ear, tear him into a thousand pieces.”The dogs flew on the giant, and tore him into countless shreds. Then the lad took all the treasures in the mountain, harnessed the giant’s horses to a golden chariot, and made haste to be gone.As may well be imagined, the young princesses were very glad at being thus saved, and they thanked the lad for having delivered them from the power of mountain giants. He himself fell deep in love with the youngest princess, and they vowed to be true and faithful. So they travelled, with mirth and jest and great gladness, and the lad waited on the princesses with the respect and care they deserved. As they went on, the princesses played with the lad’s hair, and each one hung her finger-ring in his long locks as a keepsake.One day as they were journeying, they came up with two wanderers who were going the same way. They had on tattered clothes, their feet were sore, and altogether one would have thought they had come a long distance. The lad stopped his chariot and asked them who they were and where they came from. The strangers said they were two princes who had gone out to look for the three maidens who had been carried off to the mountains. They had, however, searched in vain, so they had now to go home more like beggars than princes.When the lad heard that, he had pity on the two wanderers, and he asked them to go with him in the beautiful chariot. The princes gave him many thanks for the favour. So they travelled on together till they came to the land over which the father of the princesses ruled.Now when the princes heard how the poor lad had rescued the princesses, they were filled with envy, thinking how they themselves had wandered to no purpose. They considered how they could get rid of him, and obtain the honour and rewards for themselves. So one day they suddenly set on him, seized him by the throat, and nearly strangled him. Then they threatened to kill the princesses unless they took an oath not to reveal what they had done, and they, being in the princes’ power, did not dare to refuse. However, they were very sorry for the youth who had risked his life for them, and the youngest princess mourned him with all her heart, and would not be comforted.After having done this, the princes went on to the king’s demesnes, and one can well imagine how glad the king was to once more see his three daughters.Meanwhile the poor lad lay in the forest as if he were dead. He was not, however, forsaken, for the three dogs lay down by him, kept him warm, and licked his wounds. They attended to him till he got his breath again, and came once more to life. When he had regained life and strength, he began his journey, and came, after having endured many hardships, to the king’s demesnes, where the princesses lived.When he went into the palace, he marked that the whole place was filled with mirth and joy, and in the royal hall he heard dancing and the sound of harps. The lad was much astonished, and asked what it all meant.“You have surely come from a distance,” said the servant, “not to know that the king has got back his daughters from the mountain giants. The two elder princesses are married to-day.”The lad asked about the youngest princess, whether she was to be married. The servant said she would have no one, but wept continually, and no one could find out the reason for her sorrow. Then the lad was glad, for he well knew that his love was faithful and true to him.He went up into the guard-room, and sent a message to the king that a guest had come who prayed that he might add to the wedding mirth by exhibiting his dogs. The king was pleased, and ordered that the stranger should be well received. When the lad came into the hall, the wedding guests much admired his smartness and his manly form, and they all thought they had never before seen so brave a young man. When the three princesses saw him they knew him at once, rose from the table, and ran into his arms. Then the princes thought they had better not stay there, for the princesses told how the lad had saved them, and how all had befallen. As a proof of the truth of what they said, they showed their rings in the lad’s hair.When the king knew how the two foreign princes had acted so treacherously and basely he was much enraged, and ordered that they should be driven off his demesnes with disgrace.The brave youth was welcomed with great honour, as, indeed, he deserved, and he was, the same day, married to the youngest princess. When the king died, the youth was chosen ruler over the land, and made a brave king. There he yet lives with his beautiful queen, and there he governs prosperously to this day.I know no more about him.
There once lived a queen who ruled over the Flowery Isles, whose husband, to her extreme grief, died a few years after their marriage. On being left a widow she devoted herself almost entirely to the education of the two charming princesses, her only children. The elder of them was so lovely that as she grew up her mother greatly feared she would excite the jealousy of the Queen of all the Isles, who prided herself on being the most beautiful woman in the world, and insisted on all rivals bowing before her charms.In order the better to gratify her vanity she had urged the king, her husband, to make war on all the surrounding islands, and as his greatest wish was to please her, the only conditions he imposed on any newly-conquered country was that each princess of every royal house should attend his court as soon as she was fifteen years old, and do homage to the transcendent beauty of his queen.The queen of the Flowery Isles, well aware of this law, was fully determined to present her daughter to the proud queen as soon as her fifteenth birthday was past.The queen herself had heard a rumour of the young princess’s great beauty, and awaited her visit with some anxiety, which soon developed into jealousy, for when the interview took place it was impossible not to be dazzled by such radiant charms, and she was obliged to admit that she had never beheld anyone so exquisitely lovely.Of course she thought in her own mind ‘excepting myself!’ for nothing could have made her believe it possible that anyone could eclipse her.But the outspoken admiration of the entire court soon undeceived her, and made her so angry that she pretended illness and retired to her own rooms, so as to avoid witnessing the princess’s triumph. She also sent word to the Queen of the Flowery Isles that she was sorry not to be well enough to see her again, and advised her to return to her own states with the princess, her daughter.This message was entrusted to one of the great ladies of the court, who was an old friend of the Queen of the Flowery Isles, and who advised her not to wait to take a formal leave but to go home as fast as she could.The queen was not slow to take the hint, and lost no time in obeying it. Being well aware of the magic powers of the incensed queen, she warned her daughter that she was threatened by some great danger if she left the palace for any reason whatever during the next six months.The princess promised obedience, and no pains were spared to make the time pass pleasantly for her.The six months were nearly at an end, and on the very last day a splendid fête was to take place in a lovely meadow quite near the palace. The princess, who had been able to watch all the preparations from her window, implored her mother to let her go as far as the meadow; and the queen, thinking all risk must be over, consented, and promised to take her there herself.The whole court was delighted to see their much-loved princess at liberty, and everyone set off in high glee to join in the fête.The princess, overjoyed at being once more in the open air, was walking a little in advance of her party when suddenly the earth opened under her feet and closed again after swallowing her up!The queen fainted away with terror, and the younger princess burst into floods of tears and could hardly be dragged away from the fatal spot, whilst the court was overwhelmed with horror at so great a calamity.Orders were given to bore the earth to a great depth, but in vain; not a trace of the vanished princess was to be found.She sank right through the earth and found herself in a desert place with nothing but rocks and trees and no sign of any human being. The only living creature she saw was a very pretty little dog, who ran up to her and at once began to caress her. She took him in her arms, and after playing with him for a little put him down again, when he started off in front of her, looking round from time to time as though begging her to follow.She let him lead her on, and presently reached a little hill, from which she saw a valley full of lovely fruit trees, bearing flowers and fruit together. The ground was also covered with fruit and flowers, and in the middle of the valley rose a fountain surrounded by a velvety lawn.The princess hastened to this charming spot, and sitting down on the grass began to think over the misfortune which had befallen her, and burst into tears as she reflected on her sad condition.The fruit and clear fresh water would, she knew, prevent her from dying of hunger or thirst, but how could she escape if any wild beast appeared and tried to devour her?At length, having thought over every possible evil which could happen, the princess tried to distract her mind by playing with the little dog. She spent the whole day near the fountain, but as night drew on she wondered what she should do, when she noticed that the little dog was pulling at her dress.She paid no heed to him at first, but as he continued to pull her dress and then run a few steps in one particular direction, she at last decided to follow him; he stopped before a rock with a large opening in the centre, which he evidently wished her to enter.The princess did so and discovered a large and beautiful cave lit up by the brilliancy of the stones with which it was lined, with a little couch covered with soft moss in one corner. She lay down on it and the dog at once nestled at her feet. Tired out with all she had gone through she soon fell asleep.Next morning she was awakened very early by the songs of many birds. The little dog woke up too, and sprang round her in his most caressing manner. She got up and went outside, the dog as before running on in front and turning back constantly to take her dress and draw her on.She let him have his way and he soon led her back to the beautiful garden where she had spent part of the day before. Here she ate some fruit, drank some water of the fountain, and felt as if she had made an excellent meal. She walked about amongst the flowers, played with her little dog, and at night returned to sleep in the cave.In this way the princess passed several months, and as her first terrors died away she gradually became more resigned to her fate. The little dog, too, was a great comfort, and her constant companion.One day she noticed that he seemed very sad and did not even caress her as usual. Fearing he might be ill she carried him to a spot where she had seen him eat some particular herbs, hoping they might do him good, but he would not touch them. He spent all the night, too, sighing and groaning as if in great pain.At last the princess fell asleep, and when she awoke her first thought was for her little pet, but not finding him at her feet as usual, she ran out of the cave to look for him. As she stepped out of the cave she caught sight of an old man, who hurried away so fast that she had barely time to see him before he disappeared.This was a fresh surprise and almost as great a shock as the loss of her little dog, who had been so faithful to her ever since the first day she had seen him. She wondered if he had strayed away or if the old man had stolen him.Tormented by all kinds of thoughts and fears she wandered on, when suddenly she felt herself wrapped in a thick cloud and carried through the air. She made no resistance and before very long found herself, to her great surprise, in an avenue leading to the palace in which she had been born. No sign of the cloud anywhere.As the princess approached the palace she perceived that everyone was dressed in black, and she was filled with fear as to the cause of this mourning. She hastened on and was soon recognised and welcomed with shouts of joy. Her sister hearing the cheers ran out and embraced the wanderer, with tears of happiness, telling her that the shock of her disappearance had been so terrible that their mother had only survived it a few days. Since then the younger princess had worn the crown, which she now resigned to her sister to whom it by right belonged.But the elder wished to refuse it, and would only accept the crown on condition that her sister should share in all the power.The first acts of the new queen were to do honour to the memory of her dear mother and to shower every mark of generous affection on her sister. Then, being still very grieved at the loss of her little dog, she had a careful search made for him in every country, and when nothing could be heard of him she was so grieved that she offered half her kingdom to whoever should restore him to her.Many gentlemen of the court, tempted by the thought of such a reward, set off in all directions in search of the dog; but all returned empty-handed to the queen, who, in despair announced that since life was unbearable without her little dog, she would give her hand in marriage to the man who brought him back.The prospect of such a prize quickly turned the court into a desert, nearly every courtier starting on the quest. Whilst they were away the queen was informed one day that a very ill-looking man wished to speak with her. She desired him to be shown into a room where she was sitting with her sister.On entering her presence he said that he was prepared to give the queen her little dog if she on her side was ready to keep her word.The princess was the first to speak. She said that the queen had no right to marry without the consent of the nation, and that on so important an occasion the general council must be summoned. The queen could not say anything against this statement; but she ordered an apartment in the palace to be given to the man, and desired the council to meet on the following day.Next day, accordingly, the council assembled in great state, and by the princess’s advice it was decided to offer the man a large sum of money for the dog, and should he refuse it, to banish him from the kingdom without seeing the queen again. The man refused the price offered and left the hall.The princess informed the queen of what had passed, and the queen approved of all, but added that as she was her own mistress she had made up her mind to abdicate her throne, and to wander through the world till she had found her little dog.The princess was much alarmed by such a resolution, and implored the queen to change her mind. Whilst they were discussing the subject, one of the chamberlains appeared to inform the queen that the bay was covered with ships. The two sisters ran to the balcony, and saw a large fleet in full sail for the port.In a little time they came to the conclusion that the ships must come from a friendly nation, as every vessel was decked with gay flags, streamers, and pennons, and the way was led by a small ship flying a great white flag of peace.The queen sent a special messenger to the harbour, and was soon informed that the fleet belonged to the Prince of the Emerald Isles, who begged leave to land in her kingdom, and to present his humble respects to her. The queen at once sent some of the court dignitaries to receive the prince and bid him welcome.She awaited him seated on her throne, but rose on his appearance, and went a few steps to meet him; then begged him to be seated, and for about an hour kept him in close conversation.The prince was then conducted to a splendid suite of apartments, and the next day he asked for a private audience. He was admitted to the queen’s own sitting- room, where she was sitting alone with her sister.After the first greetings the prince informed the queen that he had some very strange things to tell her, which she only would know to be true.‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I am a neighbour of the Queen of all the Isles; and a small isthmus connects part of my states with hers. One day, when hunting a stag, I had the misfortune to meet her, and not recognising her, I did not stop to salute her with all proper ceremony. You, Madam, know better than anyone how revengeful she is, and that she is also a mistress of magic. I learnt both facts to my cost. The ground opened under my feet, and I soon found myself in a far distant region transformed into a little dog, under which shape I had the honour to meet your Majesty. After six months, the queen’s vengeance not being yet satisfied, she further changed me into a hideous old man, and in this form I was so afraid of being unpleasant in your eyes, Madam, that I hid myself in the depths of the woods, where I spent three months more. At the end of that time I was so fortunate as to meet a benevolent fairy who delivered me from the proud queen’s power, and told me all your adventures and where to find you. I now come to offer you a heart which has been entirely yours, Madam, since first we met in the desert.’A few days later a herald was sent through the kingdom to proclaim the joyful news of the marriage of the Queen of the Flowery Isles with the young prince. They lived happily for many years, and ruled their people well.As for the bad queen, whose vanity and jealousy had caused so much mischief, the Fairies took all her power away for a punishment.
There was a man, of those possessed of houses and riches, who had wealth and servants and slaves and other possessions; and he departed from the world to receive the mercy of God (whose name be exalted!), leaving a young son. And when the son grew up, he took to eating and drinking, and the hearing of instruments of music and songs, and was liberal and gave gifts, and expended the riches that his father had left to him until all the wealth had gone. He then betook himself to the sale of the male black slaves, and the female slaves, and other possessions, and expended all that he had of his father’s wealth and other things, and became so poor that he worked with the labourers. In this state he remained for a period of years. While he was sitting one day beneath a wall, waiting to see who would hire him, lo! a man of comely countenance and apparel drew near to him and saluted him. So the youth said to him, “O uncle, hast thou known me before now?”The man answered him, “I have not known thee, O my son, at all; but I see the traces of affluence upon thee, though thou art in this condition.”The young man replied, “O uncle, what fate and destiny have ordained hath come to pass. But hast thou, O uncle, O comely-faced, any business in which to employ me?”The man said to him, “O my son, I desire to employ thee in an easy business.”The youth asked, “And what is it, O uncle?”And the man answered him, “I have with me ten sheykhs in one abode, and we have no one to perform our wants. Thou shalt receive from us, of food and clothing, what will suffice thee, and shalt serve us, and thou shalt receive of us thy portion of benefits and money. Perhaps, also, God will restore to thee thine affluence by our means.”The youth therefore replied, “I hear and obey.”The sheykh then said to him, “I have a condition to impose upon thee.”“And what is thy condition, O uncle?” asked the youth.He answered him, “O my son, it is that thou keep our secret with respect to the things that thou shalt see us do; and when thou seest us weep, that thou ask us not respecting the cause of our weeping.” And the young man replied, “Well, O uncle.”So the sheykh said to him, “O my son, come with us, relying on the blessing of God (whose name be exalted!).” And the young man followed the sheykh until the latter conducted him to the bath; after which he sent a man, who brought him a comely garment of linen, and he clad him with it, and went with him to his abode and his associates. And when the young man entered, he found it to be a high mansion, with lofty angles, ample, with chambers facing one another, and saloons; and in each saloon was a fountain of water, and birds were warbling over it, and there were windows overlooking, on every side, a beautiful garden within the mansion. The sheykh conducted him into one of the chambers, and he found it decorated with coloured marbles, and its ceiling ornamented with blue and brilliant gold, and it was spread with carpets of silk; and he found in it ten sheykhs sitting facing one another, wearing the garments of mourning, weeping, and wailing. So the young man wondered at their case, and was about to question the sheykh who had brought him, but he remembered the condition, and therefore withheld his tongue. Then the sheykh committed to the young man a chest, containing thirty thousand pieces of gold, saying to him, “O my son, expend upon us out of this chest, and upon thyself, according to what is just, and be thou faithful, and take care of that wherewith I have intrusted thee.”And the young man replied, “I hear and obey.” He continued to expend upon them for a period of days and nights, after which one of them died; whereupon his companions took him, and washed him and shrouded him, and buried him in a garden behind the mansion. And death ceased not to take of them one after another, until there remained only the sheykh who had hired the young man. So he remained with the young man in that mansion, and there was not with them a third; and they remained thus for a period of years. Then the sheykh fell sick; and when the young man despaired of his life, he addressed him with courtesy, and was grieved for him, and said to him, “O uncle, I have served you, and not failed in your service one hour for a period of twelve years, but have acted faithfully to you, and served you according to my power and ability.”The sheykh replied, “Yes, O my son, thou hast served us until these sheykhs have been taken unto God (to whom be ascribed might and glory!), and we must inevitably die.”And the young man said, “O my master, thou art in a state of peril, and I desire of thee that thou inform me what hath been the cause of your weeping, and the continuance of your wailing and your mourning and your sorrow.”He replied, “O my son, thou hast no concern with that, and require me not to do what I am unable; for I have begged God (whose name be exalted!) not to afflict any one with my affliction. Now if thou desire to be safe from that into which we have fallen, open not that door,” and he pointed to it with his hand, and cautioned him against it; “and if thou desire that what hath befallen us should befall thee, open it, and thou wilt know the cause of that which thou hast beheld in our conduct; but thou wilt repent, when repentance will not avail thee.” Then the illness increased upon the sheykh, and he died; and the young man washed him with his own hands, and shrouded him, and buried him by his companions.He remained in that place, possessing it and all the treasure; but notwithstanding this, he was uneasy, reflecting upon the conduct of the sheykhs. And while he was meditating one day upon the words of the sheykh, and his charge to him not to open the door, it occurred to his mind that he might look at it. So he went in that direction, and searched until he saw an elegant door, over which the spider had woven its webs, and upon it were four locks of steel. When he beheld it, he remembered how the sheykh had cautioned him, and he departed from it. His soul desired him to open the door, and he restrained it during a period of seven days; but on the eighth day his soul overcame him, and he said, “I must open that door, and see what will happen to me in consequence; for nothing will repel what God (whose name be exalted!) decreeth and predestineth, and no event will happen but by His will.” Accordingly he arose and opened the door, after he had broken the locks. And when he had opened the door he saw a narrow passage, along which he walked for the space of three hours; and lo! he came forth upon the bank of a great river. At this the young man wondered. And he walked along the bank, looking to the right and left; and behold! a great eagle descended from the sky, and taking up the young man with its talons, it flew with him, between heaven and earth, until it conveyed him to an island in the midst of the sea. There it threw him down, and departed from him.So the young man was perplexed at his case, not knowing whither to go; but while he was sitting one day, lo! the sail of a vessel appeared to him upon the sea, like the star in the sky; wherefore the heart of the young man became intent upon the vessel, in the hope that his escape might be effected in it. He continued looking at it until it came near unto him; and when it arrived, he beheld a bark of ivory and ebony, the oars of which were of sandal-wood and aloes-wood, and the whole of it was encased with plates of brilliant gold. There were also in it ten damsels, virgins, like moons. When the damsels saw him, they landed to him from the bark, and kissed his hands, saying to him, “Thou art the king, the bridegroom.” Then there advanced to him a damsel who was like the shining sun in the clear sky, having in her hand a kerchief of silk, in which were a royal robe, and a crown of gold set with varieties of jacinths. Having advanced to him, she clad him and crowned him; after which the damsels carried him in their arms to the bark, and he found in it varieties of carpets of silk of diverse colours. They then spread the sails, and proceeded over the depths of the sea.“Now when I proceeded with them,” says the young man, “I felt sure that this was a dream, and knew not whither they were going with me. And when they came in sight of the land, I beheld it filled with troops, the number of which none knew but God (whose perfection be extolled, and whose name be exalted!) clad in coats of mail. They brought forward to me five marked horses, with saddles of gold, set with varieties of pearls and precious stones; and I took a horse from among these and mounted it. The four others proceeded with me; and when I mounted, the ensigns and banners were set up over my head, the drums and the cymbals were beaten, and the troops disposed themselves in two divisions, right and left. I wavered in opinion as to whether I were asleep or awake, and ceased not to advance, not believing in the reality of my stately procession, but imagining that it was the result of confused dreams, until we came in sight of a verdant meadow, in which were palaces and gardens, and trees and rivers and flowers, and birds proclaiming the perfection of God, the One, the Omnipotent. And now there came forth an army from among those palaces and gardens, like the torrent when it poureth down, until it filled the meadow. When the troops drew near to me, they hailed, and lo! a king advanced from among them, riding alone, preceded by some of his chief officers walking.”The king, on approaching the young man, alighted from his courser; and the young man, seeing him do so, alighted also; and they saluted each other with the most courteous salutation. Then they mounted their horses again, and the king said to the young man, “Accompany us; for thou art my guest.”So the young man proceeded with him, and they conversed together, while the stately trains in orderly disposition went on before them to the palace of the king, where they alighted, and all of them entered, together with the king and the young man, the young man’s hand being in the hand of the king, who thereupon seated him on the throne of gold and seated himself beside him. When the king removed the litham from his face, lo! this supposed king was a damsel, like the shining sun in the clear sky, a lady of beauty and loveliness, and elegance and perfection, and conceit and amorous dissimulation. The young man beheld vast affluence and great prosperity, and wondered at the beauty and loveliness of the damsel. Then the damsel said to him, “Know, O king, that I am the queen of this land, and all these troops that thou hast seen, including every one, whether of cavalry or infantry, are women. There are not among them any men. The men among us, in this land, till and sow and reap, employing themselves in the cultivation of the land, and the building and repairing of the towns, and in attending to the affairs of the people, by the pursuit of every kind of art and trade; but as to the women, they are the governors and magistrates and soldiers.”And the young man wondered at this extremely. And while they were thus conversing, the vizier entered; and lo! she was a grey-haired old woman, having a numerous retinue, of venerable and dignified appearance; and the queen said to her, “Bring to us the Kádee and the witnesses.” So the old woman went for that purpose. And the queen turned towards the young man, conversing with him and cheering him, and dispelling his fear by kind words; and, addressing him courteously, she said to him, “Art thou content for me to be thy wife?” And thereupon he arose and kissed the ground before her; but she forbade him; and he replied, “O my mistress, I am less than the servants who serve thee.” She then said to him, “Seest thou not these servants and soldiers and wealth and treasures and hoards?”He answered her, “Yes.” And she said to him, “All these are at thy disposal; thou shalt make use of them, and give and bestow as seemeth fit to thee.” Then she pointed to a closed door, and said to him, “All these things thou shalt dispose of; but this door thou shalt not open; for if thou open it, thou wilt repent, when repentance will not avail thee.” Her words were not ended when the vizier, with the Kádee and the witnesses, entered, and all of them were old women, with their hair spreading over their shoulders, and of venerable and dignified appearance. When they came before the queen, she ordered them to perform the ceremony of the marriage-contract. So they married her to the young man. And she prepared the banquets and collected the troops; and when they had eaten and drunk, the young man took her as his wife. And he resided with her seven years, passing the most delightful, comfortable, and agreeable life.But he meditated one day upon opening the door, and said, “Were it not that there are within it great treasures, better than what I have seen, she had not prohibited me from opening it.” He then arose and opened the door, and lo! within it was the bird that had carried him from the shore of the great river, and deposited him upon the island. When the bird beheld him, it said to him, “No welcome to a face that will never be happy!” So, when he saw it and heard its words, he fled from it; but it followed him and carried him off, and flew with him between heaven and earth for the space of an hour, and at length deposited him in the place from which it had carried him away; after which it disappeared. He thereupon sat in that place, and, returning to his reason, he reflected upon what he had seen of affluence and glory and honour, and the riding of the troops before him, and commanding and forbidding; and he wept and wailed. He remained upon the shore of the great river, where that bird had put him, for the space of two months, wishing that he might return to his wife; but while he was one night awake, mourning and meditating, some one spoke (and he heard his voice, but saw not his person), calling out, “How great were the delights! Far, far from thee is the return of what is passed! And how many therefore will be the sighs!” So when the young man heard it, he despaired of meeting again that queen, and of the return to him of the affluence in which he had been living. He then entered the mansion where the sheykhs had resided, and knew that they had experienced the like of that which had happened unto him, and that this was the cause of their weeping and their mourning; wherefore he excused them. Grief and anxiety came upon the young man, and he entered his chamber, and ceased not to weep and moan, relinquishing food and drink and pleasant scents and laughter, until he died; and he was buried by the side of the sheykhs.
Long ago an Indian Chief was living with his people far in the Canadian forest. Life was good and food was plentiful and the people were all very happy. But one day a wicked giant and his old witch wife came crashing into the land from a far country beyond the prairies. They devoured all the food they could lay their hands on and soon there was little left to eat in all the country; and often they carried off little children to their hiding-place and ate them up until not a trace of them remained. Somewhere far in the forest they dwelt in a hidden cave; they slept all day long, but at night they always stalked forth in search of plunder. The Chief was much troubled, and with his warriors he tried in every way to discover their hiding-place, but no one ever succeeded in finding it. For by the use of their magic power the giant and his old witch wife could make themselves invisible when they walked abroad among men and they could not be caught. The Chief called all his warriors to a council, and he said, “Who can rid me of this pest? Who can kill the giant?” But not a man replied. And when he saw his people’s store of food rapidly growing smaller and the little children of his tribe slowly disappearing, he was greatly puzzled as to what he should do.One night of bright moonlight Rabbit was prowling through the woods, as was his custom, in search of someone on who he could play a prank on, for he was a great joker. Suddenly he came upon the giant and his old witch wife standing by an opening in the side of a low mountain. He watched them for a long time from the shadow of a great tree, and at last he saw them enter a large hole in the side of the hill. He knew now that he had hit by accident upon the giant’s cave and he was well pleased by his discovery. But he kept his secret to himself, for he thought, “Here is a good chance for me to win fame. I will kill the giants by a crafty trick and I will then be looked upon as a great warrior, the foremost in all the land, for all the Chief’s men have failed to find the giants.”So he went to the Chief and said, “Oh, Chief, I know where the giants live and I swear to you that I am going to kill them. It is I alone who can rid you of these pests.”“You!” said the Chief in great surprise; “little harm the like of you can do to giants; they will eat you up in one mouthful,” and he laughed loudly at Rabbit’s boldness. And he called to his warriors saying, “See what a stout fighter we have here! Little Rabbit says he can do what we have failed to do; he swears that he will kill the giants; he is better fitted to kill a mouse!” And they all laughed loud haw-haws at Rabbit’s vanity.Poor Rabbit’s pride was deeply hurt by the Chief’s scorn and the warriors’ cruel laughter, but it all made him more determined than ever to slay the thieving giants. So he went to an old woman who lived nearby and said, “Give me an old faded dress and a ragged old shawl and your colored spectacles and a hat with a feather in it.” The old woman wondered what tricks he was up to now, but she gave him what he asked for. He put on the tattered old dress and the battered old hat with a red feather sticking from the top, and he wrapped the old shawl about his face, and he wore the woman’s colored spectacles and he carried a crooked stick. And dressed in this fashion, he set out towards evening for the giants’ home. When he reached the mouth of the cave, he stood still and waited, leaning on his crooked stick, for night was coming on and he knew that the giants would soon be going out on their plundering rounds.After a time when it was quite dark except for the moonlight, the giant’s old witch wife came out of the cave. When she saw Rabbit in the dim light she said gruffly, “Who are you, standing there in the shadows?”“Oh, my dear niece,” said Rabbit, “I have found you at last. I am your poor old aunt. I thought I had lost my way. I have come to see you from your home in the far country. It was a long journey and my poor old legs and back are stiff and sore, and I am very hungry and tired;” and he moved slowly towards the woman, hobbling along with his crooked stick. The giant woman was deceived, and she threw her arms around Rabbit and kissed him, and she did not feel his whiskers or his split lip because of the old shawl that was wrapped around his face. “I have a pain in my jaw from sleeping out of doors,” said Rabbit, “and I must keep my face wrapped up.”“Come in and rest, and you will soon feel better,” said the giant woman.“You will have to lead me in,” said Rabbit, not wishing to take off the shawl, “for my eyesight is very bad.”So she led Rabbit into the warm cave, which was so dark that they could scarcely see each other, and she called her husband and said, “Here is my dear old aunt who has come all the way from the far country beyond the prairies.” And the giant, believing Rabbit to be his wife’s kindred, for he could not see him very clearly, treated him very kindly. And they showed him the bed where he was to sleep.The woman then gave Rabbit a large piece of dried meat to eat. But Rabbit said, “I cannot eat it, for I am old and I have lost all my teeth. Give me an axe to cut it up small.” So the woman brought him a sharp axe and he chopped the meat into small pieces and ate it all up. And he said, “I will keep the axe by me, for I shall need it at all my meals,” and he placed it beside his bed. The giant said, “We are going away to see some friends, but we shall be back before midnight.” But before they went away Rabbit said to the woman, “I hope your husband sleeps soundly; I have a bad cough and I sometimes moan because of the pain in my face and head and I do not wish to disturb him.”And the old giant woman answered, “He slumbers too well. When we sleep we both snore loudly, and when you hear us snoring you may cough as much as you please, for then you will know that we are sound asleep.” Then the man and his witch wife went away.When the giants came home, Rabbit pretended to be fast asleep. They brought back with them much food which they hid in a secret place at the side of the cave. Rabbit watched them through the holes in the old shawl around his head. Soon they went to bed, drowsy after their fat meal. When Rabbit heard them snoring loudly like a great waterfall, “chr-r-r, chr-r-r,” he arose very quietly and crept softly to their bedside. With two blows of his axe he killed the giant and his wife, one after the other. Then he ran away as fast as he could, carrying with him his old dress and hat and shawl, for he thought he might need them again.In the morning he went to the Chief’s house and told the Chief what he had done. The Chief laughed scornfully and he would not believe it until Rabbit brought him to the cave and showed him the slain giants cold and stiff in their bed. The Chief’s men then took back to the village the great store of food the giants had hidden in the secret place. But the Chief and his warriors, although they were glad to be rid of the thieves, were angry at heart because Rabbit whom they had laughed at had done what they had failed to do, for they were very jealous of Rabbit’s power.One day soon afterwards the Chief called all the birds and the animals to a council, and he said, “Now that the giants who robbed us of our food are dead and gone, and that we shall never again want for nourishment in my country, I am going to let each animal and bird choose the kind of food he would most like to live on if he could get it. And they shall never want for that kind of food if it can be provided.” And he called on each to make the choice.And the birds said “Grain and seeds and worms,” and the Squirrel said “Nuts,” and the Fox said “Chickens,” and the cat said “Milk,” and the dog said “Meat and bones,” and the weasel said “Eggs,” and the wolf said “Lambs,” and the bear said “Fish from the frozen sea,” and so on until each animal was called upon and declared his liking.And the Chief said, “It shall be as you have chosen.” But the Chief had purposely neglected to summon poor Rabbit to the council, and Rabbit was absent on a long journey. When he came home, he was very angry when he heard what had happened, for only the leftover in the world’s food remained for him to choose.So he went to the Chief and said in great wrath, “This is a fine return for ridding your land of giants. But that is a way you have; you always reward good deeds with evil.”The Chief was very angry because of Rabbit’s insolence, and he said, “You are telling lies again.” But Rabbit called as witnesses to the truth of what he said Sheep and Goat and Duck who chanced to be passing by and who stood listening to the quarrel.And old Sheep said, “Rabbit has spoken truly. When I was young I gave the Chief much wool to make clothes for his back and he used me well. But now that I am old he is going to kill me and eat me up. That is my reward.”And old Goat said, “Rabbit has spoken wisely and justly. I served the Chief well in my time and gave him milk, but now that I am old and have no more milk he is fattening me and getting me ready for slaughter. That is my reward.”And old Duck said, “That is a true saying of Rabbit. Once upon a time I gave the Chief many eggs and young ducklings, but now that I have stopped laying he is soon going to roast me in a pot. That is my reward.”The Chief could make no answer to these charges, for he knew them to be true, and he offered to do what was in his power for Rabbit. But Rabbit refused to make choice of food, for he said the best was already gone. He sulked for many months and lived alone by his own efforts as best he could.At last he decided to take vengeance on the Chief. And he hit, as was his custom, on a crafty trick. The Chief had an old Bear which he prized very highly, for the Bear did for him many wondrous tricks and brought laughter to him and his warriors when he danced at their feasts. In those olden times Bear had a long bushy tail of which he was very proud. One day as Rabbit sat on the ice fishing—for it was now winter—Bear came along. There was to be a feast that night and he was going to dance for the Chief, and he was in very good spirits. “Where did you get all the fine fish?” he asked, for he was a great fish eater.“I caught them through the hole in the ice,” said Rabbit. “It is very easy. Just drop your tail down through the hole and it will soon be covered with fine big fish.”Bear did as he was told, and he sat on the ice for a long time waiting for his prey. He sat so long that the hole froze up, for it was very cold, and in it was frozen poor Bear’s long bushy tail. “Now,” said Rabbit, “jump quick, for many fish are hanging to you.” Bear jumped with all his might, but his tail was held fast in the ice and it broke off close to the root. Rabbit laughed in great glee and ran away. And poor Bear howled with pain and shame. He could not dance at the feast because his stub of a tail was sore, and the Chief and the warriors were very angry at Rabbit because he had harmed their dancing pet. And since that time Bear has had a short stubby tail which to this day he tries to wag feebly.Rabbit then hid for some days far from the Chief and his warriors. Then he decided to try another trick. The Chief’s wood-cutter was old Beaver, who lived in a little house of reeds on the bank of a stream. He was very busy now cutting down trees for the Chief, for it was near to spring-time and the people were in need of logs for building roads over the rivers. One day Rabbit went to Beaver and said, “The Chief sent me to you to bring you to a great tree he wishes you to cut down at once.”So Beaver went along with him. But when Beaver was busy at his task cutting down the tree, Rabbit hit him a savage blow on the head with a big stick hoping to kill him and thus again to anger the Chief. Poor Beaver fell to the ground and Rabbit ran away. But Beaver was only stunned. He got up after a time and went home muttering to himself and rubbing his sore head. Soon Rabbit came back to the tree and found Beaver gone. He knew that his blow had failed. Then he put on again his tattered old dress and his ragged shawl and his colored spectacles and the hat with the red feather sticking to the top, and he went to Beaver’s house by the stream, hobbling along with a stick.“The Chief sent me to you to bring you to a great tree he wishes you to cut down at once,” he called. And Beaver said, “I have already tried to cut a great tree for him to-day and I should have finished it had I not been beaten with a stick until I was stunned by the blow.”“Who struck you?” asked Rabbit, laughing to himself.“Rabbit struck me,” answered Beaver. “He is a great robber and a liar,” said Rabbit.“He is all that,” said Beaver, rubbing the lump on his head. So Beaver went along with Rabbit. And Rabbit asked as they went along, “How is it that you are alive after that cruel blow?”And Beaver said, “Rabbit hit me on the head. If he had hit me on the back of my neck he would have killed me, for there I keep the secret of my life.”When Beaver was busy again at his task cutting down the tree, Rabbit hit him a powerful blow on the back of the neck and poor Beaver fell down dead. Then he cut off his tail that was made like a file, and went away happy, for he knew that the Chief would be very angry when he found what had happened to his wood-cutter.When the Chief learned that Beaver had been killed, his wrath knew no bounds, for he could ill afford at this time to lose his best woodchopper. He blamed Rabbit for the deed, but he could not be sure that his suspicions were well-founded. Rabbit kept out of the Chief’s sight for some weeks. But one day in early summer he was very hungry. He saw all the other animals filling their bellies with their favourite food, and he decided to forget his sulks and to ask the Chief for help.So he went to the Chief and said haughtily, “I want you to give me food for my own special use as you have done with the other animals. You must do it at once or I will do you much harm.”Then the Chief remembered what Rabbit had done to his dancing Bear, and he thought of the death of Beaver, for which he blamed Rabbit without proof, and he grew red with anger. He seized Rabbit by the heels and said, “Henceforth the dogs will always chase you, and you will never have peace when they are near. And you will live for the most part on whatever food I throw you into now.”Then he whirled Rabbit around his head by the heels, and he threw him from him with great force, hoping to drop him in a great black swamp near-by. Poor Rabbit went flying through the air for a great distance, farther than the Chief had hoped, and he dropped with a thud into a field of clover on the edge of which cabbages and lettuce were growing. And since that time the dogs have always chased Rabbit and he has lived for the most part on cabbages and lettuce and clover which he steals on moonlight nights from farmers’ fields.
The Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid sat in his palace, wondering if there was anything left in the world that could possibly give him a few hours’ amusement, when Giafar the grand-vizir, his old and tried friend, suddenly appeared before him. Bowing low, he waited, as was his duty, till his master spoke, but Haroun-al-Raschid merely turned his head and looked at him, and sank back into his former weary posture.Now Giafar had something of importance to say to the Caliph, and had no intention of being put off by mere silence, so with another low bow in front of the throne, he began to speak.“Commander of the Faithful,” said he, “I have taken on myself to remind your Highness that you have undertaken secretly to observe for yourself the manner in which justice is done and order is kept throughout the city. This is the day you have set apart to devote to this object, and perhaps in fulfilling this duty you may find some distraction from the melancholy to which, as I see to my sorrow, you are a prey.”“You are right,” returned the Caliph, “I had forgotten all about it. Go and change your coat, and I will change mine.”A few moments later they both re-entered the hall, disguised as foreign merchants, and passed through a secret door, out into the open country. Here they turned towards the Euphrates, and crossing the river in a small boat, walked through that part of the town which lay along the further bank, without seeing anything to call for their interference. Much pleased with the peace and good order of the city, the Caliph and his vizir made their way to a bridge, which led straight back to the palace, and had already crossed it, when they were stopped by an old and blind man, who begged for alms.The Caliph gave him a piece of money, and was passing on, but the blind man seized his hand, and held him fast.“Charitable person,” he said, “whoever you may be, grant me yet another prayer. Strike me, I beg of you, one blow. I have deserved it richly, and even a more severe penalty.”The Caliph, much surprised at this request, replied gently: “My good man, that which you ask is impossible. Of what use would my alms be if I treated you so ill?” And as he spoke he tried to loosen the grasp of the blind beggar.“My lord,” answered the man, “pardon my boldness and my persistence. Take back your money, or give me the blow which I crave. I have sworn a solemn oath that I will receive nothing without receiving chastisement, and if you knew all, you would feel that the punishment is not a tenth part of what I deserve.”Moved by these words, and perhaps still more by the fact that he had other business to attend to, the Caliph yielded, and struck him lightly on the shoulder. Then he continued his road, followed by the blessing of the blind man. When they were out of earshot, he said to the vizir, “There must be something very odd to make that man act so–I should like to find out what is the reason. Go back to him; tell him who I am, and order him to come without fail to the palace to-morrow, after the hour of evening prayer.”So the grand-vizir went back to the bridge; gave the blind beggar first a piece of money and then a blow, delivered the Caliph’s message, and rejoined his master.They passed on towards the palace, but walking through a square, they came upon a crowd watching a young and well-dressed man who was urging a horse at full speed round the open space, using at the same time his spurs and whip so unmercifully that the animal was all covered with foam and blood. The Caliph, astonished at this proceeding, inquired of a passer-by what it all meant, but no one could tell him anything, except that every day at the same hour the same thing took place.Still wondering, he passed on, and for the moment had to content himself with telling the vizir to command the horseman also to appear before him at the same time as the blind man.The next day, after evening prayer, the Caliph entered the hall, and was followed by the vizir bringing with him the two men of whom we have spoken, and a third, with whom we have nothing to do. They all bowed themselves low before the throne and then the Caliph bade them rise, and ask the blind man his name.“Baba-Abdalla, your Highness,” said he.“Baba-Abdalla,” returned the Caliph, “your way of asking alms yesterday seemed to me so strange, that I almost commanded you then and there to cease from causing such a public scandal. But I have sent for you to inquire what was your motive in making such a curious vow. When I know the reason I shall be able to judge whether you can be permitted to continue to practice it, for I cannot help thinking that it sets a very bad example to others. Tell me therefore the whole truth, and conceal nothing.”These words troubled the heart of Baba-Abdalla, who prostrated himself at the feet of the Caliph. Then rising, he answered: “Commander of the Faithful, I crave your pardon humbly, for my persistence in beseeching your Highness to do an action which appears on the face of it to be without any meaning. No doubt, in the eyes of men, it has none; but I look on it as a slight expiation for a fearful sin of which I have been guilty, and if your Highness will deign to listen to my tale, you will see that no punishment could atone for the crime.”
Once upon a time a shepherd was taking his flock out to pasture, when he found a little baby lying in a meadow, left there by some wicked person, who thought it was too much trouble to look after it. The shepherd was fond of children, so he took the baby home with him and gave it plenty of milk, and by the time the boy was fourteen he could tear up oaks as if they were weeds. Then Paul, as the shepherd had called him, grew tired of living at home, and went out into the world to try his luck.He walked on for many miles, seeing nothing that surprised him, but in an open space of the wood he was astonished at finding a man combing trees as another man would comb flax.‘Good morning, friend,’ said Paul; ‘upon my word, you must be a strong man!’The man stopped his work and laughed. ‘I am Tree Comber,’ he answered proudly; ‘and the greatest wish of my life is to wrestle with Shepherd Paul.’‘May all your wishes be fulfilled as easily, for I am Shepherd Paul, and can wrestle with you at once,’ replied the lad; and he seized Tree Comber and flung him with such force to the ground that he sank up to his knees in the earth. However, in a moment he was up again, and catching hold of Paul, threw him so that he sank up to his waist; but then it was Paul’s turn again, and this time the man was buried up to his neck. ‘That is enough,’ cried he; ‘I see you are a smart fellow, let us become friends.’‘Very good,’ answered Paul, and they continued their journey together.By-and-by they reached a man who was grinding stones to powder in his hands, as if they had been nuts.‘Good morning,’ said Paul politely; ‘upon my word, you must be a strong fellow!’‘I am Stone Crusher,’ answered the man, and the greatest wish of my life is to wrestle with Shepherd Paul.’‘May all your wishes be as easily fulfilled, for I am Shepherd Paul, and will wrestle with you at once,’ and the sport began. After a short time the man declared himself beaten, and begged leave to go with them; so they all three travelled together.A little further on they came upon a man who was kneading iron as if it had been dough. ‘Good morning,’ said Paul, ‘you must be a strong fellow.’‘I am Iron Kneader, and should like to fight Shepherd Paul,’ answered he.‘Let us begin at once then,’ replied Paul; and on this occasion also, Paul got the better of his foe, and they all four continued their journey.At midday they entered a forest, and Paul stopped suddenly. ‘We three will go and look for game,’ he said, ‘and you, Tree Comber, will stay behind and prepare a good supper for us.’ So Tree Comber set to work to boil and roast, and when dinner was nearly ready, a little dwarf with a pointed beard strolled up to the place. ‘What are you cooking?’ asked he, ‘give me some of it.’‘I’ll give you some on your back, if you like,’ answered Tree Comber rudely. The dwarf took no notice, but waited patiently till the dinner was cooked, then suddenly throwing Tree Comber on the ground, he ate up the contents of the saucepan and vanished. Tree Comber felt rather ashamed of himself, and set about boiling some more vegetables, but they were still very hard when the hunters returned, and though they complained of his bad cooking, he did not tell them about the dwarf.Next day Stone Crusher was left behind, and after him Iron Kneader, and each time the dwarf appeared, and they fared no better than Tree Comber had done. The fourth day Paul said to them: ‘My friends, there must be some reason why your cooking has always been so bad, now you shall go and hunt and I will stay behind.’ So they went off, amusing themselves by thinking what was in store for Paul.He set to work at once, and had just got all his vegetables simmering in the pot when the dwarf appeared as before, and asked to have some of the stew. ‘Be off,’ cried Paul, snatching up the saucepan as he spoke. The dwarf tried to get hold of his collar, but Paul seized him by the beard, and tied him to a big tree so that he could not stir, and went on quietly with his cooking. The hunters came back early, longing to see how Paul had got on, and, to their surprise, dinner was quite ready for them.‘You are great useless creatures,’ said he, ‘who couldn’t even outwit that little dwarf. When we have finished supper I will show you what I have done with him!’ But when they reached the place where Paul had left the dwarf, neither he nor the tree was to be seen, for the little fellow had pulled it up by the roots and run away, dragging it after him. The four friends followed the track of the tree and found that it ended in a deep hole. ‘He must have gone down here,’ said Paul, ‘and I will go after him. See! there is a basket that will do for me to sit in, and a cord to lower me with. But when I pull the cord again, lose no time in drawing the basket up.’And he stepped into the basket, which was lowered by his friends.At last it touched the ground and he jumped out and looked about him. He was in a beautiful valley, full of meadows and streams, with a splendid castle standing by. As the door was open he walked in, but a lovely maiden met him and implored him to go back, for the owner of the castle was a dragon with six heads, who had stolen her from her home and brought her down to this underground spot. But Paul refused to listen to all her entreaties, and declared that he was not afraid of the dragon, and did not care how many heads he had; and he sat down calmly to wait for him.In a little while the dragon came in, and all the long teeth in his six heads chattered with anger at the sight of the stranger.‘I am Shepherd Paul,’ said the young man, ‘and I have come to fight you, and as I am in a hurry we had better begin at once.’‘Very good,’ answered the dragon. ‘I am sure of my supper, but let us have a mouthful of something first, just to give us an appetite.’Whereupon he began to eat some huge boulders as if they had been cakes, and when he had quite finished, he offered Paul one. Paul was not fond of boulders, but he took a wooden knife and cut one in two, then he snatched up both halves in his hands and threw them with all his strength at the dragon, so that two out of the six heads were smashed in. At this the dragon, with a mighty roar, rushed upon Paul, but he sprang on one side, and with a swinging blow cut off two of the other heads. Then, seizing the monster by the neck, he dashed the remaining heads against the rock.When the maiden heard that the dragon was dead, she thanked her deliverer with tears in her eyes, but told him that her two younger sisters were in the power of dragons still fiercer and more horrible than this one. He vowed that his sword should never rest in its sheath till they were set free, and bade the girl come with him, and show him the way.The maiden gladly consented to go with him, but first she gave him a golden rod, and bade him strike the castle with it. He did so, and it instantly changed into a golden apple, which he put in his pocket. After that, they started on their search.They had not gone far before they reached the castle where the second girl was confined by the power of the dragon with twelve heads, who had stolen her from her home. She was overjoyed at the sight of her sister and of Paul, and brought him a shirt belonging to the dragon, which made every one who wore it twice as strong as they were before. Scarcely had he put it on when the dragon came back, and the fight began. Long and hard was the struggle, but Paul’s sword and his shirt helped him, and the twelve heads lay dead upon the ground.Then Paul changed the castle into an apple, which he put into his pocket, and set out with the two girls in search of the third castle.It was not long before they found it, and within the walls was the third sister, who was younger and prettier than either of the other two. Her husband had eighteen heads, but when he quitted the lower regions for the surface of the earth, he left them all at home except one, which he changed for the head of a little dwarf, with a pointed beard.The moment that Paul knew that this terrible dragon was no other than the dwarf whom he had tied to the tree, he longed more than ever to fly at his throat. But the thought of the eighteen heads warned him to be careful, and the third sister brought him a silk shirt which would make him ten times stronger than he was before.He had scarcely put it on, when the whole castle began to shake violently, and the dragon flew up the steps into the hall.‘Well, my friend, so we meet once more! Have you forgotten me? I am Shepherd Paul, and I have come to wrestle with you, and to free your wife from your clutches.’‘Ah, I am glad to see you again,’ said the dragon. ‘Those were my two brothers whom you killed, and now your blood shall pay for them.’ And he went into his room to look for his shirt and to drink some magic wine, but the shirt was on Paul’s back, and as for the wine, the girl had given a cupful to Paul and then had allowed the rest to run out of the cask.At this the dragon grew rather frightened, but in a moment had recollected his eighteen heads, and was bold again.‘Come on,’ he cried, rearing himself up and preparing to dart all his heads at once at Paul. But Paul jumped underneath, and gave an upward cut so that six of the heads went rolling down. They were the best heads too, and very soon the other twelve lay beside them. Then Paul changed the castle into an apple, and put it in his pocket. Afterwards he and the three girls set off for the opening which led upwards to the earth.The basket was still there, dangling from the rope, but it was only big enough to hold the three girls, so Paul sent them up, and told them to be sure and let down the basket for him. Unluckily, at the sight of the maidens’ beauty, so far beyond anything they had ever seen, the friends forgot all about Paul, and carried the girls straight away into a far country, so that they were not much better off than before. Meanwhile Paul, mad with rage at the ingratitude of the three sisters, vowed he would be revenged upon them, and set about finding some way of getting back to earth. But it was not very easy, and for months, and months, and months, he wandered about underground, and, at the end, seemed no nearer to fulfilling his purpose than he was at the beginning.At length, one day, he happened to pass the nest of a huge griffin, who had left her young ones all alone. Just as Paul came along a cloud containing fire instead of rain burst overhead, and all the little griffins would certainly have been killed had not Paul spread his cloak over the nest and saved them. When their father returned the young ones told him what Paul had done, and he lost no time in flying after Paul, and asking how he could reward him for his goodness.‘By carrying me up to the earth,’ answered Paul; and the griffin agreed, but first went to get some food to eat on the way, as it was a long journey.‘Now get on my back,’ he said to Paul, ‘and when I turn my head to the right, cut a slice off the bullock that hangs on that side, and put it in my mouth, and when I turn my head to the left, draw a cupful of wine from the cask that hangs on that side, and pour it down my throat.’For three days and three nights Paul and the griffin flew upwards, and on the fourth morning it touched the ground just outside the city where Paul’s friends had gone to live. Then Paul thanked him and bade him farewell, and he returned home again.At first Paul was too tired to do anything but sleep, but as soon as he was rested he started off in search of the three faithless ones, who almost died from fright at the sight of him, for they had thought he would never come back to reproach them for their wickedness.‘You know what to expect,’ Paul said to them quietly. ‘You shall never see me again. Off with you!’ He next took the three apples out of his pocket and placed them all in the prettiest places he could find; after which he tapped them with his golden rod, and they became castles again. He gave two of the castles to the eldest sisters, and kept the other for himself and the youngest, whom he married, and there they are living still.
This Malchus was one of those Jews who beat our Lord; a Jew more brutal than can be told. When Christ was taken to Pilate’s house, this Malchus, with an iron glove, gave him a blow so heavy that it knocked out all his teeth. For the sacrilegious act, the Lord condemned him to walk constantly, without ever resting, around a column in an underground room. This column is in a round room, and Malchus walks and walks without ever having peace or rest. They say that he has walked so much that he has worn the ground down many yards and made the column seem higher than it was, for this Malchus has led this life ever since our Lord’s passion and death. It is said that this Malchus is desperate from his remorse, and while he walks he beats the column, strikes his head against the wall, and rages and laments; but notwithstanding he does not die, for the sentence of God is that he must live until the day of judgment.
There was once a stepmother who, besides her stepdaughter, had a daughter of her own. Whatever her own daughter might do, she looked kindly at her and said, “Sensible darling!” but as for the stepdaughter, whatever she might do to please, it was always taken amiss. Everything she did was wrong, and not as it should be. Yet, sooth to say, the little stepdaughter was as good as gold; in good hands she would have swum in cheese and butter, but, living with her stepmother, she bathed herself every day in tears. What was she to do? The blast, though it blows, does not blow for ever, but a scolding old woman it is not so easy to avoid. She will take anything into her head, even to combing one’s teeth. And the stepmother took it into her head to drive her stepdaughter from the house. “Take her, take her away, my old man, whithersoever you like, that mine eyes may not see her, that my ears may not hear of her; but don’t take her to my own daughter in the warm room, but take her into the bare fields to the bitter, biting frost.” The old man began to lament and weep, but for all that he put his daughter in the sledge; he would have liked to cover her with the horse-cloth, but even that he dared not do. So he took the homeless one into the bare fields, threw her on a heap of snow, crossed himself, and hastened home as fast as possible, that his eyes might not see his daughter’s death.There the poor little thing remained on the fringe of the forest, sat down under a fir-tree, shivered, and softly said her prayers. All at once she heard something. Morozko was crackling in a fir-tree not far off, and he leaped from fir to fir and snapped his fingers. And look! now he has come to that fir beneath which the girl was sitting; and he snapped his fingers, and leaped up and down, and looked at the pretty girl. “Maiden, maiden, ’tis I—Moroz-ruby-nose!”—“Welcome, Moroz! God must have sent thee to my poor sinful soul.”—“Art thou warm, maiden?”—“Warm, warm, dear little father Morozushko2!” Moroz began to descend lower, and crackle still more, and snap his fingers more than ever, and again he began speaking to the girl. “Art thou warm, maiden? Art thou warm, beauty?” The girl was scarce able to draw her breath, and yet she kept on saying, “Yes, warm, Morozushko; warm, little father!” Morozko crackled more than ever, and snapped his fingers harder and yet harder, and he said to the maiden for the last time, “Art thou warm, maiden? Art thou warm, beauty? Art thou warm, sweet clover?” The girl was all benumbed, and it was only in a voice scarcely audible that she could say, “Oh, yes! warm, darling little pigeon mine, Morozushko!” Morozko quite loved her for her pretty speeches. He had compassion on the girl; he wrapped her in furs, warmed her with warm coverings, and brought her a coffer, high and heavy, full of bridal garments, and gave her a robe all garnished with gold and silver. She put it on, and oh, how beautiful and stately she looked! And she sat down and began to sing songs. And the stepmother was preparing her funeral feast and frying pancakes. “Be off, husband, and bury your daughter!” she cried. And off the old man went. But the little dog under the table said, “Bow-wow! the old man’s daughter is going about in silver and gold, but the old woman’s daughter no wooers will look at.”—“Silence, you fool! There’s a pancake for you, and now say, ‘The wooers will take the old woman’s daughter, but there’s nothing left of the old man’s daughter but her bones.’” The little dog ate the pancake, but again he said, “Bow-wow! the old man’s daughter goes about in silver and gold, but the old woman’s daughter no wooers will look at.” The old woman kept beating the dog and giving him pancakes, but the little dog would have his way, and said, “The old man’s daughter goes about in silver and gold, but the old woman’s daughter no wooers will look at.”The floors creaked, the doors flew open wide, and in they brought the high and heavy coffer, and behind it walked the stepdaughter, in gold and silver, glittering like the sun. The stepmother looked at her, and threw up her arms. “Old man, old man! put to a pair of horses, and take my daughter at once. Put her in the selfsame field, in the selfsame place.” And the old man took the daughter to the selfsame place. And Moroz-ruby-nose came and looked at his guest, and began to ask her, “Art thou warm, maiden?”—“Be off with you!” replied the old woman’s daughter, “or are you blind not to see that my arms and legs are quite benumbed with cold?” Morozko began skipping and jumping, fair words were not to be expected from that quarter. And he was angry with the stepdaughter, and froze her to death.“Old man, old man! go and fetch my daughter. Put to my swift horses, and don’t overturn the sledge and upset the coffer.” But the little dog under the table said, “Bow-wow! the wooers will wed the old man’s daughter, but they’ll bring home nothing of the old woman’s daughter but a sack of bones.”—“Don’t lie! There’s a cake. Take it and say, ‘They’ll carry about the old woman’s daughter in gold and silver!’” And the doors flew open, the nasty old woman ran out to meet her daughter, and instead of her she embraced a cold corpse. She began to howl and cry; she knew then that she had lost her wicked and envious daughter.
There was once a worthy old couple who lived on the coast, and supported themselves by fishing. They had only one child, a son, who was their pride and joy, and for his sake they were ready to work hard all day long, and never felt tired or discontented with their lot. This son’s name was Uraschimataro, which means in Japanese, ‘Son of the island,’ and he was a fine well-grown youth and a good fisherman, minding neither wind nor weather. Not the bravest sailor in the whole village dared venture so far out to sea as Uraschimataro, and many a time the neighbours used to shake their heads and say to his parents, ‘If your son goes on being so rash, one day he will try his luck once too often, and the waves will end by swallowing him up.’ But Uraschimataro paid no heed to these remarks, and as he was really very clever in managing a boat, the old people were very seldom anxious about him.One beautiful bright morning, as he was hauling his well-filled nets into the boat, he saw lying among the fishes a tiny little turtle. He was delighted with his prize, and threw it into a wooden vessel to keep till he got home, when suddenly the turtle found its voice, and tremblingly begged for its life. ‘After all,’ it said, ‘what good can I do you? I am so young and small, and I would so gladly live a little longer. Be merciful and set me free, and I shall know how to prove my gratitude.’Now Uraschimataro was very good-natured, and besides, he could never bear to say no, so he picked up the turtle, and put it back into the sea.Years flew by, and every morning Uraschimataro sailed his boat into the deep sea. But one day as he was making for a little bay between some rocks, there arose a fierce whirlwind, which shattered his boat to pieces, and she was sucked under by the waves. Uraschimataro himself very nearly shared the same fate. But he was a powerful swimmer, and struggled hard to reach the shore. Then he saw a large turtle coming towards him, and above the howling of the storm he heard what it said: ‘I am the turtle whose life you once saved. I will now pay my debt and show my gratitude. The land is still far distant, and without my help you would never get there. Climb on my back, and I will take you where you will.’ Uraschimataro did not wait to be asked twice, and thankfully accepted his friend’s help. But scarcely was he seated firmly on the shell, when the turtle proposed that they should not return to the shore at once, but go under the sea, and look at some of the wonders that lay hidden there.Uraschimataro agreed willingly, and in another moment they were deep, deep down, with fathoms of blue water above their heads. Oh, how quickly they darted through the still, warm sea! The young man held tight, and marvelled where they were going and how long they were to travel, but for three days they rushed on, till at last the turtle stopped before a splendid palace, shining with gold and silver, crystal and precious stones, and decked here and there with branches of pale pink coral and glittering pearls. But if Uraschimataro was astonished at the beauty of the outside, he was struck dumb at the sight of the hall within, which was lighted by the blaze of fish scales.‘Where have you brought me?’ he asked his guide in a low voice.‘To the palace of Ringu, the house of the sea god, whose subjects we all are,’ answered the turtle. ‘I am the first waiting maid of his daughter, the lovely princess Otohime, whom you will shortly see.’Uraschimataro was still so puzzled with the adventures that had befallen him, that he waited in a dazed condition for what would happen next. But the turtle, who had talked so much of him to the princess that she had expressed a wish to see him, went at once to make known his arrival. And directly the princess beheld him her heart was set on him, and she begged him to stay with her, and in return promised that he should never grow old, neither should his beauty fade. ‘Is not that reward enough?’ she asked, smiling, looking all the while as fair as the sun itself. And Uraschimataro said ‘Yes,’ and so he stayed there. For how long? That he only knew later.His life passed by, and each hour seemed happier than the last, when one day there rushed over him a terrible longing to see his parents. He fought against it hard, knowing how it would grieve the princess, but it grew on him stronger and stronger, till at length he became so sad that the princess inquired what was wrong. Then he told her of the longing he had to visit his old home, and that he must see his parents once more. The princess was almost frozen with horror, and implored him to stay with her, or something dreadful would be sure to happen. ‘You will never come back, and we shall meet again no more,’ she moaned bitterly. But Uraschimataro stood firm and repeated, ‘Only this once will I leave you, and then will I return to your side for ever.’ Sadly the princess shook her head, but she answered slowly, ‘One way there is to bring you safely back, but I fear you will never agree to the conditions of the bargain.’‘I will do anything that will bring me back to you,’ exclaimed Uraschimataro, looking at her tenderly, but the princess was silent: she knew too well that when he left her she would see his face no more. Then she took from a shelf a tiny golden box, and gave it to Uraschimataro, praying him to keep it carefully, and above all things never to open it. ‘If you can do this,’ she said as she bade him farewell, ‘your friend the turtle will meet you at the shore, and will carry you back to me.’Uraschimataro thanked her from his heart, and swore solemnly to do her bidding. He hid the box safely in his garments, seated himself on the back of the turtle, and vanished in the ocean path, waving his hand to the princess. Three days and three nights they swam through the sea, and at length Uraschimataro arrived at the beach which lay before his old home. The turtle bade him farewell, and was gone in a moment.Uraschimataro drew near to the village with quick and joyful steps. He saw the smoke curling through the roof, and the thatch where green plants had thickly sprouted. He heard the children shouting and calling, and from a window that he passed came the twang of the koto, and everything seemed to cry a welcome for his return. Yet suddenly he felt a pang at his heart as he wandered down the street. After all, everything was changed. Neither men nor houses were those he once knew. Quickly he saw his old home; yes, it was still there, but it had a strange look. Anxiously he knocked at the door, and asked the woman who opened it after his parents. But she did not know their names, and could give him no news of them.Still more disturbed, he rushed to the burying ground, the only place that could tell him what he wished to know. Here at any rate he would find out what it all meant. And he was right. In a moment he stood before the grave of his parents, and the date written on the stone was almost exactly the date when they had lost their son, and he had forsaken them for the Daughter of the Sea. And so he found that since he had deft his home, three hundred years had passed by.Shuddering with horror at his discovery he turned back into the village street, hoping to meet some one who could tell him of the days of old. But when the man spoke, he knew he was not dreaming, though he felt as if he had lost his senses.In despair he bethought him of the box which was the gift of the princess. Perhaps after all this dreadful thing was not true. He might be the victim of some enchanter’s spell, and in his hand lay the counter-charm. Almost unconsciously he opened it, and a purple vapour came pouring out. He held the empty box in his hand, and as he looked he saw that the fresh hand of youth had grown suddenly shrivelled, like the hand of an old, old man. He ran to the brook, which flowed in a clear stream down from the mountain. and saw himself reflected as in a mirror. It was the face of a mummy which looked back at him. Wounded to death, he crept back through the village, and no man knew the old, old man to be the strong handsome youth who had run down the street an hour before. So he toiled wearily back, till he reached the shore, and here he sat sadly on a rock, and called loudly on the turtle. But she never came back any more, but instead, death came soon, and set him free. But before that happened, the people who saw him sitting lonely on the shore had heard his story, and when their children were restless they used to tell them of the good son who from love to his parents had given up for their sakes the splendour and wonders of the palace in the sea, and the most beautiful woman in the world besides.
A certain tailor had a son, who happened to be small, and no bigger than a Thumb, and on this account he was always called Thumbling. He had, however, some courage in him, and said to his father, “Father, I must and will go out into the world.” “That’s right, my son,” said the old man, and took a long darning-needle and made a knob of sealing wax on it at the candle, “and there is a sword for thee to take with thee on the way.” Then the little tailor wanted to have one more meal with them, and hopped into the kitchen to see what his lady mother had cooked for the last time. It was, however, just dished up, and the dish stood on the hearth. Then he said, “Mother, what is there to eat today?” “See for yourself,” said his mother. So Thumbling jumped on to the hearth, and peeped into the dish, but as he stretched his neck in too far the steam from the food caught hold of him, and carried him up the chimney. He rode about in the air on the steam for a while, until at length he sank down to the ground again. Now the little tailor was outside in the wide world, and he travelled about, and went to a master in his craft, but the food was not good enough for him. “Mistress, if you give us no better food,” said Thumbling, “I will go away, and early tomorrow morning I will write with chalk on the door of your house, ‘Too many potatoes, too little meat! Farewell, Mr. Potato-King.'” “What would you have for truth, grasshopper?” said the mistress, and grew angry, and seized a dish-cloth, and was just going to strike him; but my little tailor crept nimbly under a thimble, peeped out from beneath it, and put his tongue out at the mistress. She took up the thimble, and wanted to get hold of him, but little Thumbling hopped into the cloth, and while the mistress was opening it out and looking for him, he got into a crevice in the table. “Ho, ho, lady mistress,” cried he, and thrust his head out, and when she began to strike him he leapt down into the drawer. At last, however, she caught him and drove him out of the house.The little tailor journeyed on and came to a great forest, and there he fell in with a band of robbers who had a design to steal the King’s treasure. When they saw the little tailor, they thought, “A little fellow like that can creep through a key-hole and serve as lock pick to us.” “Hollo,” cried one of them, “you giant Goliath, will you go to the treasure-chamber with us? You can slip yourself in and throw out the money.” Thumbling reflected a while, and at length he said, “yes,” and went with them to the treasure- chamber. Then he looked at the doors above and below, to see if there was any crack in them. It was not long before he espied one which was broad enough to let him in. He was therefore about to get in at once, but one of the two sentries who stood before the door, observed him, and said to the other, “What an ugly spider is creeping there; I will kill it.” “Let the poor creature alone,” said the other, “it has done you no harm.” Then Thumbling got safely through the crevice into the treasure-chamber, opened the window beneath which the robbers were standing, and threw out to them one thaler after another. When the little tailor was in the full swing of his work, he heard the King coming to inspect his treasure-chamber, and crept hastily into a hiding-place. The King noticed that several silver coins were missing, but could not conceive who could have stolen them, for locks and bolts were in good condition, and all seemed well guarded. Then he went away again, and said to the sentries, “Be on the watch, some one is after the money.” When therefore Thumbling recommenced his labours, they heard the money moving, and a sound of klink, klink, klink. They ran swiftly in to seize the thief, but the little tailor, who heard them coming, was still swifter, and leapt into a corner and covered himself with a coin, so that nothing could be seen of him, and at the same time he mocked the sentries and cried, “Here am I!” The sentries ran there, but as they got there, he had already hopped into another corner under a coin, and was crying, “Ho, ho, here am I!” The watchmen sprang there in haste, but Thumbling had long ago got into a third corner, and was crying, “Ho, ho, here am I!” And thus he made fools of them, and drove them so long round about the treasure-chamber that they were weary and went away. Then by degrees he threw all the coins out, dispatching the last with all his might, then hopped nimbly upon it, and flew down with it through the window. The robbers paid him great compliments. “You are a valiant hero,” said they; “will you be our captain?”Thumbling, however, declined, and said he wanted to see the world first. They now divided the booty, but the little tailor only asked for a kreuzer because he could not carry more.Then he once more buckled on his sword, bade the robbers good-bye, and took to the road. First, he went to work with some masters, but he had no liking for that, and at last he hired himself as man-servant in an inn. The maids, however, could not endure him, for he saw all they did secretly, without their seeing him, and he told their master and mistress what they had taken off the plates, and carried away out of the cellar, for themselves. Then said they, “Wait, and we will pay you off!” and arranged with each other to play him a trick. Soon afterwards when one of the maids was mowing in the garden, and saw Thumbling jumping about and creeping up and down the plants, she mowed him up quickly with the grass, tied all in a great cloth, and secretly threw it to the cows. Now amongst them there was a great black one, who swallowed him down without hurting him. Down below, however, it pleased him ill, for it was quite dark, neither was any candle burning. When the cow was being milked he cried,“Strip, strap, strull,Will the pail soon be full?”But the noise of the milking prevented his being understood. After this the master of the house came into the cow-byre and said, “That cow shall be killed tomorrow.” Then Thumbling was so alarmed that he cried out in a clear voice, “Let me out first, for I am shut up inside her.” The master heard that quite well, but did not know from whence the voice came. “Where are you?” asked he. “In the black one,” answered Thumbling, but the master did not understand what that meant, and went out.Next morning the cow was killed. Happily Thumbling did not meet with one blow at the cutting up and chopping; he got among the sausage-meat. And when the butcher came in and began his work, he cried out with all his might, “Don’t chop too deep, don’t chop too deep, I am amongst it.” No one heard this because of the noise of the chopping-knife. Now poor Thumbling was in trouble, but trouble sharpens the wits, and he sprang out so adroitly between the blows that none of them touched him, and he escaped with a whole skin. But still he could not get away, there was nothing for it, and he had to let himself be thrust into a black-pudding with the bits of bacon. His quarters there were rather confined, and besides that he was hung up in the chimney to be smoked, and there time did hang terribly heavy on his hands.At length in winter he was taken down again, as the black-pudding had to be set before a guest. When the hostess was cutting it in slices, he took care not to stretch out his head too far lest a bit of it should be cut off; at last he saw his opportunity, cleared a passage for himself, and jumped out.The little tailor, however, would not stay any longer in a house where he fared so ill, but at once set out on his journey again. But his liberty did not last long. In the open country he met with a fox who snapped him up in a fit of absence. “Hollo, Mr. Fox,” cried the little tailor, “it is I who am sticking in your throat, set me at liberty again.” “You are right,” answered the fox. “You are next to nothing for me, but if you will promise me the fowls in your father’s yard I will let you go.” “With all my heart,” replied Thumbling. “You shall have all the cocks and hens, that I promise you.” Then the fox let him go again, and himself carried him home. When the father once more saw his dear son, he willingly gave the fox all the fowls which he had. “For this I likewise bring you a handsome bit of money,” said Thumbling, and gave his father the kreuzer which he earned on his travels.“But why did the fox get the poor chickens to eat?” “Oh, you goose, your father would surely love his child far more than the fowls in the yard!”
The fishes had for a long time been discontented because no order prevailed in their kingdom. None of them turned aside for the others, but all swam to the right or the left as they fancied, or darted between those who wanted to stay together, or got into their way; and a strong one gave a weak one a blow with its tail, which drove it away, or else swallowed it up without more ado. “How delightful it would be,” said they, “if we had a king who enforced law and justice among us!” and they met together to choose for their ruler, the one who could cleave through the water most quickly, and give help to the weak ones.They placed themselves in rank and file by the shore, and the pike gave the signal with his tail, on which they all started. Like an arrow, the pike darted away, and with him the herring, the gudgeon, the perch, the carp, and all the rest of them. Even the sole swam with them, and hoped to reach the winning-place. All at once, the cry was heard, “The herring is first! the herring is first!” “Who is first?” screamed angrily the flat envious sole, who had been left far behind, “who is first?” “The herring! The herring,” was the answer. “The naked herring?” cried the jealous creature, “the naked herring?” Since that time the sole’s mouth has been at one side for a punishment.
ONCE on a time a countryman had a son who was as big as a thumb, and did not become any bigger, and during several years did not grow one hair’s breadth. Once when the father was going out to plough, the little one said, “Father, I will go out with you.” “Thou wouldst go out with me?” said the father. “Stay here, thou wilt be of no use out there, besides thou mightest get lost!” Then Thumbling began to cry, and for the sake of peace his father put him in his pocket, and took him with him. When he was outside in the field, he took him out again, and set him in a freshly- cut furrow. Whilst he was there, a great giant came over the hill. “Dost thou see that great bogie?” said the father, for he wanted to frighten the little fellow to make him good; “he is coming to fetch thee.” The giant, however, had scarcely taken two steps with his long legs before he was in the furrow. He took up little Thumbling carefully with two fingers, examined him, and without saying one word went away with him. His father stood by, but could not utter a sound for terror, and he thought nothi ng else but that his child was lost, and that as long as he lived he should never set eyes on him again.The giant, however, carried him home, suckled him, and Thumbling grew and became tall and strong after the manner of giants. When two years had passed, the old giant took him into the forest, wanted to try him, and said, “Pull up a stick for thyself.” Then the boy was already so strong that he tore up a young tree out of the earth by the roots. But the giant thought, “We must do better than that,” took him back again, and suckled him two years longer. When he tried him, his strength had increased so much that he could tear an old tree out of the ground. That was still not enough for the giant; he again suckled him for two years, and when he then went with him into the forest and said, “Now, just tear up a proper stick for me,” the boy tore up the strongest oak-tree from the earth, so that it split, and that was a mere trifle to him. “Now that will do,” said the giant, “thou art perfect,” and took him back to the field from whence he had brought him. His father was there following the plough. The young giant went up to him, and said, “Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?”The farmer was alarmed, and said, “No, thou art not my son; I don’t want thee — leave me!” “Truly I am your son; allow me to do your work, I can plough as well as you, nay better.” “No, no, thou art not my son; and thou canst not plough — go away!” H owever, as he was afraid of this great man, he left hold of the plough, stepped back and stood at one side of the piece of land. Then the youth took the plough, and just pressed it with one hand, but his grasp was so strong that the plough went deep into the earth. The farmer could not bear to see that, and called to him, “If thou art determined to plough, thou must not press so hard on it, that makes bad work.” The youth, however, unharnessed the horses, and drew the plough himself, saying, “Just go home, father, and bid my mother make ready a large dish of food, and in the meantime I will go over the field.” Then the farmer went home, and ordered his wife to prepare the food; but the youth ploughed the field which was two acres large, quite alone, and then he harnessed himself to the harrow, and harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once. When he had done it, he went into the forest, and pulled up two oak-trees, laid them across his shoulders, and hung one harrow on them behind and one before, and also one horse behind and one before, and carried all as if it had been a bundle of straw, to his parents’ house. When he entered the yard, his mother did not recognize him, and asked, “Who is that horrible tall man?” The farmer said, “That is our son.” She said, “No, that cannot be our son, we never had such a tall one, ours was a little thing.” She called to him, “Go away, we do not want thee!” The youth was silent, but led his horses to the stable, gave them some oats and hay, and all that they wanted. When he had done this, he went into the parlour, sat down on the bench and said, “Mother, now I should like something to eat, will it soon be ready?” Then she said, “Yes,” and brought in two immense dishes full of food, which would have been enough to satisfy herself and her husband for a week. The youth, however, ate the whole of it himself, and asked if she had nothing more to set before him. “No,” she replied, “that is all we have.” “But that was only a taste, I must have more.” She did not dare to oppose him, and went and put a huge caldron full of food on the fire, and when it was ready, carried it in. “At length come a few crumbs,” said he, and ate all there was, but it was still not sufficient to appease his hunger. Then said he, “Father, I see well that with you I shall never have food enough; if you will get me an iron staff which is strong, and which I cannot break against my knees, I will go out into the world.” The farmer was glad, put his two horses in his cart, and fetched from the smith a staff so large and thick that the two horses could only just bring it away. The youth laid it across his knees, and snap! he broke it in two in the middle like a bean-stick, and threw it away. The father then harnessed four horses, and brought a bar which was so long and thick, that the four horses could only just drag it. The son snapped this also in twain against his knees, threw it away, and said, “Father, this can be of no use to me, you must harness more horses, and bring a stronger staff.” So the father harnessed eight horses, and brought one which was so long and thick, that the eight horses could only just carry it. When the son took it in his hand, he broke a bit from the top of it also, and said, “Father, I see that you will not be able to procure me any such staff as I want, I will remain no longer with you.”So he went away, and gave out that he was a smith’s apprentice. He arrived at a village, wherein lived a smith who was a greedy fellow, who never did a kindness to any one, but wanted every- thing for himself. The youth went into the smithy to him, and asked if he needed a journeyman. “Yes,” said the smith, and looked at him, and thought, “That is a strong fellow who will strike out well, and earn his bread.” So he asked, “How much wages dost thou want?” “I don’t want any at all,” he replied, “only every fortnight, when the other journeymen are paid, I will give thee two blows, and thou must bear them.” The miser was heartily satisfied, and thought he would thus save much money. Next morning, the strange journeyman was to begin to work, but when the master brought the glowing bar, and the youth struck his first blow, the iron flew asunder, and the anvil sank so deep into the earth, that there was no bringing it out again. Then the miser grew angry, and said, “Oh, but I can’t make any use of you, you strike far too powerfully; what will you have for the one blow?”Then said he, “I will only give you quite a small blow, that’s all.” And he raised his foot, and gave him such a kick that he flew away over four loads of hay. Then he sought out the thickest iron bar in the smithy for himself, took it as a stick in his hand and went onwards.When he had walked for some time, he came to a small farm, and asked the bailiff if he did not require a head-servant. “Yes,” said the bailiff, “I can make use of one; you look a strong fellow who can do something, how much a year do you want as wages?” He again replied that he wanted no wages at all, but that every year he would give him three blows, which he must bear. Then the bailiff was satisfied, for he, too, was a covetous fellow. Next morning all the servants were to go into the wood, and the others were already up, but the head-servant was still in bed. Then one of them called to him, “Get up, it is time; we are going into the wood, and thou must go with us.” “Ah,” said he quite roughly and surlily, “you may just go, then; I shall be back again before any of you.” Then the others went to the bailiff, and told him that the head-man was still lying in bed, and would not go into the wood with them. The bailiff said they were to awaken him again, and tell him to harness the horses. The head-man, however, said as before, “Just go there, I shall be back again before any of you.” And then he stayed in bed two hours longer. At length he arose from the feathers, but first he got himself two bushels of peas from the loft, made himself some broth with them, ate it at his leisure, and when that was done, went and harnessed the horses, and drove into the wood. Not far from the wood was a ravine through which he had to pass, so he first drove the horses on, and then stopped them, and went behind the cart, took trees and brushwood, and made a great barricade, so that no horse could get through. When he was entering the wood, the others were just driving out of it with their loaded carts to go home; then said he to them, “Drive on, I will still get home before you do.” He did not drive far into the wood, but at once tore two of the very largest trees of all out of the earth, threw them on his cart, and turned round. When he came to the barricade, the others were still standing there, not able to get through. “Don’t you see,” said he, “that if you had stayed with me, you would have got home just as quickly, and would have had another hour’s sleep?” He now wanted to drive on, but his horses could not work their way through, so he unharnessed them, laid them on the top of the cart, took the shafts in his own hands, and drew it over, and he did this just as easily as if it had been laden with feathers. When he was over, he said to the others, “There, you see, I have got over quicker than you,” and drove on, and the others had to stay where they were. In the yard, however, he took a tree in his hand, showed it to the bailiff, and said, “Isn’t that a fine bundle* of wood?” Then said the bailiff to his wife, “The servant is a good one, if he does sleep long, he is still home before the others.” So he served the bailiff a year, and when that was over, and the other servants were getting their wages, he said it was time for him to have his too. The bailiff, however, was afraid of the blows which he was to receive, and earnestly entreated him to excuse him from having them; for rather than that, he himself would be head-servant, and the youth should be bailiff. “No,” said he, “I will not be a bailiff, I am head-servant, and will remain so, but I will administer that which we agreed on.” The bailiff was willing to give him whatsoever he demanded, but it was of no use, the head-servant said no to everything. Then the bailiff did not know what to do, and begged for a fortnight’s delay, for he wanted to find some way of escape. The head-servant consented to this delay. The bailiff summoned all his clerks together, and they were to think the matter over, and give him advice. The clerks pondered for a long time, but at last they said that no one was sure of his life with the head-servant, for he could kill a man as easily as a midge, and that the bailiff ought to make him get into the well and clean it, and when he was down below, they would roll up one of the mill-stones which was lying there, and throw it on his head; and then he would never return to daylight. The advice pleased the bailiff, and the head-servant was quite willing to go down the well. When he was standing down below at the bottom, they rolled down the largest mill-stone and thought they had broken his skull, but he cried, “Chase away those hens from the well, they are scratching in the sand up there, and throwing the grains into my eyes, so that I can’t see.” So the bailiff cried, “Sh-sh,” –and pretended to frighten the hens away. When the head-servant had finished his work, he climbed up and said, “Just look what a beautiful neck-tie I have on,” and behold it was the mill-stone which he was wearing round his neck. The head-servant now wanted to take his reward, but the bailiff again begged for a fortnight’s delay. The clerks met together and advised him to send the head-servant to the hau nted mill to grind corn by night, for from thence as yet no man had ever returned in the morning alive. The proposal pleased the bailiff, he called the head-servant that very evening, and ordered him to take eight bushels of corn to the mill, and grind i t that night, for it was wanted. So the head-servant went to the loft, and put two bushels in his right pocket, and two in his left, and took four in a wallet, half on his back, and half on his breast, and thus laden went to the haunted mill. The miller told him that he could grind there very well by day, but not by night, for the mill was haunted, and that up to the present time whosoever had gone into it at night had been found in the morning, lying dead inside. He said, “I will manage it, just you g o away to bed.” Then he went into the mill, and poured out the corn. About eleven o’clock he went into the miller’s room, and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a door suddenly opened, and a large table came in, and on the table, win e and roasted meats placed themselves, and much good food besides, but everything came of itself, for no one was there to carry it. After this the chairs pushed themselves up, but no people came, until all at once he beheld fingers, which handled knives and forks, and laid food on the plates, but with this exception he saw nothing. As he was hungry, and saw the food, he, too, place himself at the table, ate with those who were eating, and enjoyed it. When he had had enough, and the others also had quit e emptied their dishes, he distinctly heard all the candles being suddenly snuffed out, and as it was now pitch dark, he felt something like a box on the ear. Then he said, “If anything of that kind comes again, I shall strike out in return.” And when h e had received a second box on the ear, he, too, struck out. And so it continued the whole night, he took nothing without returning it, but repaid everything with interest, and did not lay about him in vain. At daybreak, however, everything ceased. Whe n the miller had got up, he wanted to look after him, and wondered if he were still alive. Then the youth said, “I have eaten my fill, have received some boxes on the ear, but I have given some in return.” The miller rejoiced, and said that the mill was now released from the spell, and wanted to give him much money as a reward. But he said, “Money, I will not have, I have enough of it.” So he took his meal on his back, went home, and told the bailiff that he had done what he had been told to do, and w ould now have the reward agreed on. When the bailiff heard that, he was seriously alarmed and quite beside himself; he walked backwards and forwards in the room, and drops of perspiration ran down from his fore-head. Then he opened the window to get som e fresh air, but before he was aware the head-servant had given him such a kick that he flew through the window out into the air, and so far away that no one ever saw him again. Then said the head-servant to the bailiff’s wife, “If he does not come back, you must take the other blow.” She cried, “No, no I cannot bear it,” and opened the other window, because drops of perspiration were running down her forehead. Then he gave her such a kick that she, too, flew out, and as she was lighter she went much h igher than her husband. Her husband cried, “Do come to me,” but she replied, “Come thou to me, I cannot come to thee.” And they hovered about there in the air, and could not get to each other, and whether they are still hovering about, or not, I do not know, but the young giant took up his iron bar, and went on his way.
There was once upon a time a man who lived upon the northern coasts, not far from “Taigh Jan Crot Callow” (John-o’-Groat’s House), and he gained his livelihood by catching and killing fish, of all sizes and denominations. He had a particular liking for the killing of those wonderful beasts, half dog half fish, called “Roane,” or seals, no doubt because he got a long price for their skins, which are not less curious than they are valuable. The truth is, that the most of these animals are neither dogs nor cods, but downright fairies, as this narration will show; and, indeed, it is easy for any man to convince himself of the fact by a simple examination of his tobacco-spluichdan, for the dead skins of those beings are never the same for four-and-twenty hours together. Sometimes the spluichdan will erect its bristles almost perpendicularly, while, at other times, it reclines them even down; one time it resembles a bristly sow, at another time a sleekit cat; and what dead skin, except itself, could perform such cantrips? Now, it happened one day, as this p. 102notable fisher had returned from the prosecution of his calling, that he was called upon by a man who seemed a great stranger, and who said he had been despatched for him by a person who wished to contract for a quantity of seal-skins, and that the fisher must accompany him (the stranger) immediately to see the person who wished to contract for the skins, as it was necessary that he should be served that evening. Happy in the prospect of making a good bargain, and never suspecting any duplicity, he instantly complied. They both mounted a steed belonging to the stranger, and took the road with such velocity that, although the direction of the wind was towards their backs, yet the fleetness of their movement made it appear as if it had been in their faces. On reaching a stupendous precipice which overhung the sea, his guide told him they had now reached their destination.“Where is the person you spoke of!” inquired the astonished seal-killer.“You shall see that presently,” replied the guide. With that they immediately alighted, and, without allowing the seal-killer much time to indulge the frightful suspicions that began to pervade his mind, the stranger seized him with irresistible force, and plunged headlong with him into the sea. After sinking down, down, nobody knows how far, they at length reached a door, which, being open, led them into a range of apartments, filled with inhabitants—not p. 103people, but seals, who could nevertheless speak and feel like human folk; and how much was the seal-killer surprised to find that he himself had been unconsciously transformed into the like image. If it were not so, he would probably have died from the want of breath. The nature of the poor fisher’s thoughts may be more easily conceived than described. Looking at the nature of the quarters into which he had landed, all hopes of escape from them appeared wholly chimerical, whilst the degree of comfort, and length of life which the barren scene promised him were far from being flattering. The “Roane,” who all seemed in very low spirits, appeared to feel for him, and endeavoured to soothe the distress which he evinced by the amplest assurances of personal safety. Involved in sad meditation on his evil fate, he was quickly roused from his stupor by his guide’s producing a huge gully or joctaleg, the object of which he supposed was to put an end to all his earthly cares. Forlorn as was his situation, however, he did not wish to be killed; and, apprehending instant destruction, he fell down, and earnestly implored for mercy. The poor generous animals did not mean him any harm, however much his former conduct deserved it, and he was accordingly desired to pacify himself, and cease his cries.“Did you ever see that knife before?” said the stranger to the fisher.p. 104The latter instantly recognised his own knife, which he had that day stuck into a seal, and with which it had escaped, and acknowledged it was formerly his own, for what would be the use of denying it?“Well,” rejoined the guide, “the apparent seal which made away with it is my father, who has lain dangerously ill ever since, and no means can stay his fleeting breath without your aid. I have been obliged to resort to the artifice I have practised to bring you hither, and I trust that my filial duty to my father will readily excuse me.”Having said this, he led into another apartment the trembling seal-killer, who expected every minute to be punished for his own ill-treatment of the father. There he found the identical seal with which he had had the encounter in the morning, suffering most grievously from a tremendous cut in its hind-quarter. The seal-killer was then desired, with his hand, to cicatrise the wound, upon doing which it immediately healed, and the seal arose from its bed in perfect health. Upon this the scene changed from mourning to rejoicing—all was mirth and glee. Very different, however, were the feelings of the unfortunate seal-catcher, who expected no doubt to be metamorphosed into a seal for the remainder of his life. However, his late guide accosting him, said—“Now, sir, you are at liberty to return to your p. 105wife and family, to whom I am about to conduct you; but it is on this express condition, to which you must bind yourself by a solemn oath, viz. that you will never maim or kill a seal in all your lifetime hereafter.”To this condition, hard as it was, he joyfully acceded; and the oath being administered in all due form, he bade his new acquaintance most heartily and sincerely a long farewell. Taking hold of his guide, they issued from the place and swam up, till they regained the surface of the sea, and, landing at the said stupendous pinnacle, they found their former steed ready for a second canter. The guide breathed upon the fisher, and they became like men. They mounted their horse, and fleet as had been their course towards the precipice, their return from it was doubly swift; and the honest seal-killer was laid down at his own door-cheek, where his guide made him such a present as would have almost reconciled him to another similar expedition, such as rendered his loss of profession, in so far as regarded the seals, a far less intolerable hardship than he had at first considered it.
A party of visitors had been seeing the sights at Hsi Ling. They had just passed down the Holy Way between the huge stone animals when Bamboo, a little boy of twelve, son of a keeper, rushed out from his father’s house to see the mandarins go by. Such a parade of great men he had never seen before, even on the feast days. There were ten sedan chairs, with bearers dressed in flaming colours, ten long-handled, red umbrellas, each carried far in front of its proud owner, and a long line of horsemen.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback. Listen to this and many other Chinese fairy tale and folktale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}When this gay procession had filed past, Bamboo was almost ready to cry because he could not run after the sightseers as they went from temple to temple and from tomb to tomb. But, alas! his father had ordered him never to follow tourists. “If you do, they will take you for a beggar, Bamboo,” he had said shrewdly, “and if you’re a beggar, then your daddy’s one too. Now they don’t want any beggars around the royal tombs.” So Bamboo had never known the pleasure of pursuing the rich. Many times he had turned back to the little mud house, almost broken-hearted at seeing his playmates running, full of glee, after the great men’s chairs.On the day when this story opens, just as the last horseman had passed out of sight among the cedars, Bamboo chanced to look up toward one of the smaller temple buildings of which his father was the keeper. It was the house through which the visitors had just been shown. Could his eyes be deceiving him? No, the great iron doors had been forgotten in the hurry of the moment, and there they stood wide open, as if inviting him to enter.In great excitement he scurried toward the temple. How often he had pressed his head against the bars and looked into the dark room, wishing and hoping that some day he might go in. And yet, not once had he been granted this favour. Almost every day since babyhood he had gazed at the high stone shaft, or tablet, covered with Chinese writing, that stood in the centre of the lofty room, reaching almost to the roof. But with still greater surprise his eyes had feasted on the giant turtle underneath, on whose back the column rested. There are many such tablets to be seen in China, many such turtles patiently bearing their loads of stone, but this was the only sight of the kind that Bamboo had seen. He had never been outside the Hsi Ling forest, and, of course, knew very little of the great world beyond.It is no wonder then that the turtle and the tablet had always astonished him. He had asked his father to explain the mystery. “Why do they have a turtle? Why not a lion or an elephant?” For he had seen stone figures of these animals in the park and had thought them much better able than his friend, the turtle, to carry loads on their backs. “Why it’s just the custom,” his father had replied—the answer always given when Bamboo asked a question, “just the custom.” The boy had tried to imagine it all for himself, but had never been quite sure that he was right, and now, joy of all joys, he was about to enter the very turtle-room itself. Surely, once inside, he could find some answer to this puzzle of his childhood.Breathless, he dashed through the doorway, fearing every minute that some one would notice the open gates and close them before he could enter. Just in front of the giant turtle he fell in a little heap on the floor, which was covered inch-deep with dust. His face was streaked, his clothes were a sight to behold; but Bamboo cared nothing for such trifles. He lay there for a few moments, not daring to move. Then, hearing a noise outside, he crawled under the ugly stone beast and crouched in his narrow hiding-place, as still as a mouse.“There, there!” said a deep voice. “See what you are doing, stirring up such a dust! Why, you will strangle me if you are not careful.”It was the turtle speaking, and yet Bamboo’s father had often told him that it was not alive. The boy lay trembling for a minute, too much frightened to get up and run.“No use in shaking so, my lad,” the voice continued, a little more kindly. “I suppose all boys are alike—good for nothing but kicking up a dust.” He finished this sentence with a hoarse chuckle, and the boy, seeing that he was laughing, looked up with wonder at the strange creature.“I meant no harm in coming,” said the child finally. “I only wanted to look at you more closely.”“Oh, that was it, hey? Well, that is strange. All the others come and stare at the tablet on my back. Sometimes they read aloud the nonsense written there about dead emperors and their titles, but they never so much as look at me, at me whose father was one of the great four who made the world.”Bamboo’s eyes shone with wonder. “What! your father helped make the world?” he gasped.“Well, not my father exactly, but one of my grandfathers, and it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it. But, hark! I hear a voice. The keeper is coming back. Run up and close those doors, so he won’t notice that they have not been locked. Then you may hide in the corner there until he has passed. I have something more to tell you.”Bamboo did as he was told. It took all his strength to swing the heavy doors into place. He felt very important to think that he was doing something for the grandson of a maker of the world, and it would have broken his heart if this visit had been ended just as it was beginning.Sure enough, his father and the other keepers passed on, never dreaming that the heavy locks were not fastened as usual. They were talking about the great men who had just gone. They seemed very happy and were jingling some coins in their hands.“Now, my boy,” said the stone turtle when the sound of voices had died away and Bamboo had come out from his corner, “maybe you think I’m proud of my job. Here I’ve been holding up this chunk for a hundred years, I who am fond of travel. During all this time night and day, I have been trying to think of some way to give up my position. Perhaps it’s honourable, but, you may well imagine, it’s not very pleasant.”“I should think you would have the backache,” ventured Bamboo timidly.“Backache! well, I think so; back, neck, legs, eyes, everything I have is aching, aching for freedom. But, you see, even if I had kicked up my heels and overthrown this monument, I had no way of getting through those iron bars,” and he nodded toward the gate.“Yes, I understand,” agreed Bamboo, beginning to feel sorry for his old friend.“But, now that you are here, I have a plan, and a good one it is, too, I think. The watchmen have forgotten to lock the gate. What is to prevent my getting my freedom this very night? You open the gate, I walk out, and no one the wiser.”“But my father will lose his head if they find that he has failed to do his duty and you have escaped.”“Oh, no; not at all. You can slip his keys to-night, lock the gates after I am gone, and no one will know just what has happened. Why it will make this building famous. It won’t hurt your father, but will do him good. So many travellers will be anxious to see the spot from which I vanished. I am too heavy for a thief to carry off, and they will be sure that it is another miracle of the gods. Oh, I shall have a good time out in the big world.”Just here Bamboo began to cry.“Now what is the silly boy blubbering about?” sneered the turtle. “Is he nothing but a cry-baby?”“No, but I don’t want you to go.”“Don’t want me to go, eh? Just like all the others. You’re a fine fellow! What reason have you for wanting to see me weighed down here all the rest of my life with a mountain on my back? Why, I thought you were sorry for me, and it turns out that you are as mean as anybody else.”“It is so lonely here, and I have no playmates. You are the only friend I have.”The tortoise laughed loudly. “Ho, ho! so it’s because I make you a good playmate, eh? Now, if that’s your reason, that’s another story altogether. What do you say to going with me then? I, too, need a friend, and if you help me to escape, why, you are the very friend for me.”“But how shall you get the tablet off your back?” questioned Bamboo doubtfully. “It’s very heavy.”“That’s easy, just walk out of the door. The tablet is too tall to go through. It will slide off and sit on the floor instead of on my shell.”Bamboo, wild with delight at the thought of going on a journey with the turtle, promised to obey the other’s commands. After supper, when all were asleep in the little house of the keeper, he slipped from his bed, took down the heavy key from its peg, and ran pell-mell to the temple.“Well, you didn’t forget me, did you?” asked the turtle when Bamboo swung the iron gates open.“Oh, no, I would not break a promise. Are you ready?”“Yes, quite ready.” So saying, the turtle took a step. The tablet swayed backward and forward, but did not fall. On walked the turtle until finally he stuck his ugly head through the doorway. “Oh, how good it looks outside,” he said. “How pleasant the fresh air feels! Is that the moon rising over yonder? It’s the first time I’ve seen it for an age. My word! just look at the trees! How they have grown since they set that tombstone on my back! There’s a regular forest outside now.”Bamboo was delighted when he saw the turtle’s glee at escaping. “Be careful,” he cried, “not to let the tablet fall hard enough to break it.”Even as he spoke, the awkward beast waddled through the door. The upper end of the monument struck against the wall, toppled off, and fell with a great crash to the floor. Bamboo shivered with fear. Would his father come and find out what had happened?“Don’t be afraid, my boy. No one will come at this hour of the night to spy on us.”Bamboo quickly locked the gates, ran back to the house, and hung the key on its peg. He took a long look at his sleeping parents, and then returned to his friend. After all, he would not be gone long and his father would surely forgive him.Soon the comrades were walking down the broad road, very slowly, for the tortoise is not swift of foot and Bamboo’s legs were none too long.“Where are you going?” said the boy at last, after he had begun to feel more at home with the turtle.“Going? Where should you think I would want to go after my century in prison? Why, back to the first home of my father, back to the very spot where the great god, P’anku, and his three helpers hewed out the world.”“And is it far?” faltered the boy, beginning to feel just the least bit tired.“At this rate, yes, but, bless my life, you didn’t think we could travel all the way at this snail’s pace, I hope. Jump on my back, and I’ll show you how to go. Before morning we shall be at the end of the world, or rather, the beginning.”“Where is the beginning of the world?” asked Bamboo. “I have never studied geography.”“We must cross China, then Thibet, and at last in the mountains just beyond we shall reach the spot which P’anku made the centre of his labour.”At that moment Bamboo felt himself being lifted from the ground. At first he thought he would slip off the turtle’s rounded shell, and he cried out in fright.“Never fear,” said his friend. “Only sit quietly, and there will be no danger.”They had now risen far into the air, and Bamboo could look down over the great forest of Hsi Ling all bathed in moonlight. There were the broad white roads leading up to the royal tombs, the beautiful temples, the buildings where oxen and sheep were prepared for sacrifice, the lofty towers, and the high tree-covered hills under which the emperors were buried. Until that night Bamboo had not known the size of this royal graveyard. Could it be that the turtle would carry him beyond the forest? Even as he asked himself this question he saw that they had reached a mountain, and the turtle was ascending higher, still higher, to cross the mighty wall of stone.Bamboo grew dizzy as the turtle rose farther into the sky. He felt as he sometimes did when he played whirling games with his little friends, and got so dizzy that he tumbled over upon the ground. However, this time he knew that he must keep his head and not fall, for it must have been almost a mile to the ground below him. At last they had passed over the mountain and were flying above a great plain. Far below Bamboo could see sleeping villages and little streams of water that looked like silver in the moonlight. Now, directly beneath them was a city. A few feeble lights could be seen in the dark narrow streets, and Bamboo thought he could hear the faint cries of peddlers crying their midnight wares.“That’s the capital of Shan-shi just below us,” said the turtle, breaking his long silence. “It is almost two hundred miles from here to your father’s house, and we have taken less than half an hour. Beyond that is the Province of the Western Valleys. In one hour we shall be above Thibet.”On they whizzed at lightning speed. If it had not been hot summer time Bamboo would have been almost frozen. As it was, his hands and feet were cold and stiff. The turtle, as if knowing how chilly he was, flew nearer to the ground where it was warmer. How pleasant for Bamboo! He was so tired that he could keep his eyes open no longer and he was soon soaring in the land of dreams.When he waked up it was morning. He was lying on the ground in a wild, rocky region. Not far away burned a great wood fire, and the turtle was watching some food that was cooking in a pot.“Ho, ho, my lad! so you have at last waked up after your long ride. You see we are a little early. No matter if the dragon does think he can fly faster, I beat him, didn’t I? Why, even the phoenix laughs at me and says I am slow, but the phoenix has not come yet either. Yes, I have clearly broken the record for speed, and I had a load to carry too, which neither of the others had, I am sure.”“Where are we?” questioned Bamboo.“In the land of the beginning,” said the other wisely. “We flew over Thibet, and then went northwest for two hours. If you haven’t studied geography you won’t know the name of the country. But, here we are, and that is enough, isn’t it, enough for any one? And to-day is the yearly feast-day in honour of the making of the world. It was very fortunate for me that the gates were left open yesterday. I am afraid my old friends, the dragon and the phoenix, have almost forgotten what I look like. It is so long since they saw me. Lucky beasts they are, not to be loaded down under an emperor’s tablet. Hello! I hear the dragon coming now, if I am not mistaken. Yes, here he is. How glad I am to see him!”Bamboo heard a great noise like the whirr of enormous wings, and then, looking up, saw a huge dragon just in front of him. He knew it was a dragon from the pictures he had seen and the carvings in the temples.The dragon and the turtle had no sooner greeted each other, both very happy at the meeting, than they were joined by a queer-looking bird, unlike any that Bamboo had ever seen, but which he knew was the phœnix. This phœnix looked somewhat like a wild swan, but it had the bill of a cock, the neck of a snake, the tail of a fish and the stripes of a dragon. Its feathers were of five colours.When the three friends had chatted merrily for a few minutes, the turtle told them how Bamboo had helped him to escape from the temple.“A clever boy,” said the dragon, patting Bamboo gently on the back.“Yes, yes, a clever boy indeed,” echoed the phœnix.“Ah,” sighed the turtle, “if only the good god, P’anku, were here, shouldn’t we be happy! But, I fear he will never come to this meeting-place. No doubt he is off in some distant spot, cutting out another world. If I could only see him once more, I feel that I should die in peace.”“Just listen!” laughed the dragon. “As if one of us could die! Why, you talk like a mere mortal.”All day long the three friends chatted, feasted, and had a good time looking round at the places where they had lived so happily when P’anku had been cutting out the world. They were good to Bamboo also and showed him many wonderful things of which he had never dreamed.“You are not half so mean-looking and so fierce as they paint you on the flags,” said Bamboo in a friendly voice to the dragon just as they were about to separate.The three friends laughed heartily.“Oh, no, he’s a very decent sort of fellow, even if he is covered with fish-scales,” joked the phœnix.Just before they bade each other good-bye, the phœnix gave Bamboo a long scarlet tail-feather for a keepsake, and the dragon gave him a large scale which turned to gold as soon as the boy took it into his hand.“Come, come, we must hurry,” said the turtle. “I am afraid your father will think you are lost.” So Bamboo, after having spent the happiest day of his life, mounted the turtle’s back, and they rose once more above the clouds. Back they flew even faster than they had come. Bamboo had so many things to talk about that he did not once think of going to sleep, for he had really seen the dragon and the phœnix, and if he never were to see anything else in his life, he would always be happy.Suddenly the turtle stopped short in his swift flight, and Bamboo felt himself slipping. Too late he screamed for help, too late he tried to save himself. Down, down from that dizzy height he tumbled, turning, twisting, thinking of the awful death that was surely coming. Swish! he shot through the tree tops trying vainly to clutch the friendly branches. Then with a loud scream he struck the ground, and his long journey was ended.‘AH,’ SIGHED THE TURTLE, ‘IF ONLY THE GOOD GOD, P’ANKU, WERE HERE.’“Come out from under that turtle, boy! What are you doing inside the temple in the dirt? Don’t you know this is not the proper place for you?”Bamboo rubbed his eyes. Though only half awake, he knew it was his father’s voice.“But didn’t it kill me?” he said as his father pulled him out by the heel from under the great stone turtle.“What killed you, foolish boy? What can you be talking about? But I’ll half-kill you if you don’t hurry out of this and come to your supper. Really I believe you are getting too lazy to eat. The idea of sleeping the whole afternoon under that turtle’s belly!”Bamboo, not yet fully awake, stumbled out of the tablet room, and his father locked the iron doors.
There were once upon a time three brothers, of whom the eldest was called Jacob, the second Frederick, and the youngest Peter. This youngest brother was made a regular butt of by the other two, and they treated him shamefully. If anything went wrong with their affairs, Peter had to bear the blame and put things right for them, and he had to endure all this ill-treatment because he was weak and delicate and couldn’t defend himself against his stronger brothers. The poor creature had a most trying life of it in every way, and day and night he pondered how he could make it better. One day, when he was in the wood gathering sticks and crying bitterly, a little old woman came up to him and asked him what was the matter; and he told her all his troubles.‘Come, my good youth,’ said the old dame, when he had finished his tale of woe, ‘isn’t the world wide enough? Why don’t you set out and try your fortune somewhere else?’Peter took her words to heart, and left his father’s house early one morning to try his fortune in the wide world, as the old woman had advised him. But he felt very bitterly parting from the home where he had been born, and where he had at least passed a short but happy childhood, and sitting down on a hill he gazed once more fondly on his native place.Suddenly the little old woman stood before him, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said, ‘So far good, my boy; but what do you mean to do now?’Peter was at a loss what to answer, for so far he had always thought that fortune would drop into his mouth like a ripe cherry. The old woman, who guessed his thoughts, laughed kindly and said, ‘I’ll tell you what you must do, for I’ve taken a fancy to you, and I’m sure you won’t forget me when you’ve made your fortune.’Peter promised faithfully he wouldn’t, and the old woman continued:‘This evening at sunset go to yonder pear-tree which you see growing at the cross roads. Underneath it you will find a man lying asleep, and a beautiful large swan will be fastened to the tree close to him. You must be careful not to waken the man, but you must unfasten the swan and take it away with you. You will find that everyone will fall in love with its beautiful plumage, and you must allow anyone who likes to pull out a feather. But as soon as the swan feels as much as a finger on it, it will scream out, and then you must say, “Swan, hold fast.” Then the hand of the person who has touched the bird will be held as in a vice, and nothing will set it free, unless you touch it with this little stick which I will make you a present of. When you have captured a whole lot of people in this way, lead your train straight on with you; you will come to a big town where a Princess lives who has never been known to laugh. If you can only make her laugh your fortune is made; then I beg you won’t forget your old friend.’Peter promised again that he wouldn’t, and at sunset he went to the tree the old woman had mentioned. The man lay there fast asleep, and a large beautiful swan was fastened to the tree beside him by a red cord. Peter loosed the bird, and led it away with him without disturbing the bird’s master.He walked on with the swan for some time, and came at last to a building-yard where some men were busily at work. They were all lost in admiration of the bird’s beautiful plumage, and one forward youth, who was covered with clay from head to foot, called out, ‘Oh, if I’d only one of those feathers how happy I should be!’‘Pull one out then,’ said Peter kindly, and the youth seized one from the bird’s tail; instantly the swan screamed, and Peter called out, ‘Swan, hold fast,’ and do what he could the poor youth couldn’t get his hand away. The more he howled the more the others laughed, till a girl who had been washing clothes in the neighbouring stream hurried up to see what was the matter. When she saw the poor boy fastened to the swan she felt so sorry for him that she stretched out her hand to free him. The bird screamed.‘Swan, hold fast,’ called out Peter, and the girl was caught also.When Peter had gone on for a bit with his captives, they met a chimney sweep, who laughed loudly over the extraordinary troop, and asked the girl what she was doing.‘Oh, dearest John,’ replied the girl, ‘give me your hand and set me free from this cursed young man.’‘Most certainly I will, if that’s all you want,’ replied the sweep, and gave the girl his hand. The bird screamed.‘Swan, hold fast,’ said Peter, and the black man was added to their number.They soon came to a village where a fair was being held. A travelling circus was giving a performance, and the clown was just doing his tricks. He opened his eyes wide with amazement when he saw the remarkable trio fastened on to the swan’s tail.‘Have you gone raving mad, Blackie?’ he asked as well as he could for laughing.‘It’s no laughing matter,’ the sweep replied. ‘This wench has got so tight hold of me that I feel as if I were glued to her. Do set me free, like a good clown, and I’ll do you a good turn some day.’Without a moment’s hesitation the clown grasped the black outstretched hand. The bird screamed.‘Swan, hold fast,’ called out Peter, and the clown became the fourth of the party.Now in the front row of the spectators sat the respected and popular Mayor of the village, who was much put out by what he considered nothing but a foolish trick. So much annoyed was he that he seized the clown by the hand and tried to tear him away, in order to hand him over to the police.Then the bird screamed, and Peter called out, ‘Swan, hold fast,’ and the dignified Mayor shared the fate of his predecessors.The Mayoress, a long thin stick of a woman, enraged at the insult done to her husband, seized his free arm and tore at it with all her might, with the only result that she too was forced to swell the procession. After this no one else had any wish to join them.Soon Peter saw the towers of the capital in front of him. Just before entering it, a glittering carriage came out to meet him, in which was seated a young lady as beautiful as the day, but with a very solemn and serious expression. But no sooner had she perceived the motley crowd fastened to the swan’s tail than she burst into a loud fit of laughter, in which she was joined by all her servants and ladies in waiting.‘The Princess has laughed at last,’ they all cried with joy.She stepped out of her carriage to look more closely at the wonderful sight, and laughed again over the capers the poor captives cut. She ordered her carriage to be turned round and drove slowly back into the town, never taking her eyes off Peter and his procession.When the King heard the news that his daughter had actually laughed, he was more than delighted, and had Peter and his marvellous train brought before him. He laughed himself when he saw them till the tears rolled down his cheeks.‘My good friend,’ he said to Peter, ‘do you know what I promised the person who succeeded in making the Princess laugh?’‘No, I don’t,’ said Peter.‘Then I’ll tell you,’ answered the King; ‘a thousand gold crowns or a piece of land. Which will you choose?’Peter decided in favour of the land. Then he touched the youth, the girl, the sweep, the clown, the Mayor, and the Mayoress with his little stick, and they were all free again, and ran away home as if a fire were burning behind them; and their flight, as you may imagine, gave rise to renewed merriment.Then the Princess felt moved to stroke the swan, at the same time admiring its plumage. The bird screamed.‘Swan, hold fast,’ called out Peter, and so he won the Princess for his bride. But the swan flew up into the air, and vanished in the blue horizon. Peter now received a duchy as a present, and became a very great man indeed; but he did not forget the little old woman who had been the cause of all his good fortune, and appointed her as head housekeeper to him and his royal bride in their magnificent castle.
The crow went flying toward the North, croaking as she flew, “Let Hela keep what she holds. Let Hela keep what she holds.” That crow was the hag Thaukt transformed, and the hag Thaukt was Loki.He flew to the North and came into the wastes of Jötunheim. As a crow he lived there, hiding himself from the wrath of the Gods. He told the Giants that the time had come for them to build the ship Naglfar, the ship that was to be built out of the nails of dead men, and that was to sail to Asgard on the day of Ragnarök with the Giant Hrymer steering it. And harkening to what he said the Giants then and there began to build Naglfar, the ship that Gods and men wished to remain unbuilt for long.Then Loki, tiring of the wastes of Jötunheim, flew to the burning South. As a lizard he lived amongst the rocks of Muspelheim, and he made the Fire Giants rejoice when he told them of the loss of Frey’s sword and of Tyr’s right hand.But still in Asgard there was one who wept for Loki—Siguna, his wife. Although he had left her and had shown his hatred for her, Siguna wept for her evil husband.He left Muspelheim as he had left Jötunheim and he came to live in the World of Men. He knew that he had now come into a place where the wrath of the Gods might find him, and so he made plans to be ever ready for escape. He had come to the River where, ages before, he had slain the otter that was the son of the Enchanter, and on the very rock where the otter had eaten the salmon on the day of his killing, Loki built his house. He made four doors to it so that he might see in every direction. And the power that he kept for himself was the power of transforming himself into a salmon.Often as a salmon he swam in the River. But even for the fishes that swam beside him Loki had hatred. Out of flax and yarn he wove a net that men might have the means of taking them out of the water.The wrath that the Gods had against Loki did not pass away. It was he who, as Thaukt, the Hag, had given Hela the power to keep Baldur unransomed. It was he who had put into Hödur’s hand the sprig of Mistletoe that had bereft Baldur of life. Empty was Asgard now that Baldur lived no more in the Peace Stead, and stern and gloomy grew the minds of the Æsir and the Vanir with thinking on the direful things that were arrayed against them. Odin in his hall of Valhalla thought only of the ways by which he could bring heroes to him to be his help in defending Asgard.The Gods searched through the world and they found at last the place where Loki had made his dwelling. He was weaving the net to take fishes when he saw them coming from four directions. He threw the net into the fire so that it was burnt, and he sprang into the River and transformed himself into a salmon. When the Gods entered his dwelling they found only the burnt-out fire.But there was one amongst them who could understand all that he saw. In the ashes were the marks of the burnt net and he knew that these were the tracing of something to catch fishes. And from the marks left in the ashes he made a net that was the same as the one Loki had burnt.With it in their hands the Gods went down the River, dragging the net through the water. Loki was affrighted to find the thing of his own weaving brought against him. He lay between two stones at the bottom of the River, and the net passed over him.But the Gods knew that the net had touched something at the bottom. They fastened weights to it and they dragged the net through the River again. Loki knew that he might not escape it this time and he rose in the water and swam toward the sea. The Gods caught sight of him as he leaped over a waterfall. They followed him, dragging the net. Thor waded behind, ready to seize him should he turn back.Loki came out at the mouth of the River and behold! There was a great eagle hovering over the waves of the sea and ready to swoop down on fishes. He turned back in the River. He made a leap that took him over the net that the Gods were dragging. But Thor was behind the net and he caught the salmon in his powerful hands and he held him for all the struggle that Loki made. No fish had ever struggled so before. Loki got himself free all but his tail, but Thor held to the tail and brought him amongst the rocks and forced him to take on his proper form.He was in the hands of those whose wrath was strong against him. They brought him to a cavern and they bound him to three sharp-pointed rocks. With cords that were made of the sinews of wolves they bound him, and they transformed the cords into iron bands. There they would have left Loki bound and helpless. But Skadi, with her fierce Giant blood, was not content that he should be left untormented. She found a serpent that had deadly venom and she hung this serpent above Loki’s head. The drops of venom fell upon him, bringing him anguish drop by drop, minute by minute. So Loki’s torture went on.But Siguna with the pitying heart came to his relief. She exiled herself from Asgard, and endured the darkness and the cold of the cavern, that she might take some of the torment away from him who was her husband. Over Loki Siguna stood, holding in her hands a cup into which fell the serpent’s venom, thus sparing him from the full measure of anguish. Now and then Siguna had to turn aside to spill out the flowing cup, and then the drops of venom fell upon Loki and he screamed in agony, twisting in his bonds. It was then that men felt the earth quake. There in his bonds Loki stayed until the coming of Ragnarök, the Twilight of the Gods.
Far away on the other side of the world there lived, long ago, a lion and his younger brother, the wild cat, who were so fond of each other that they shared the same hut. The lion was much the bigger and stronger of the two–indeed, he was much bigger and stronger than any of the beasts that dwelt in the forest; and, besides, he could jump father and run faster than all the rest. If strength and swiftness could gain him a dinner he was sure never to be without one, but when it came to cunning, both the grizzly bear and the serpent could get the better of him, and he was forced to call in the help of the wild cat.Now the young wild cat had a lovely golden ball, so beautiful that you could hardly look at it except through a piece of smoked glass, and he kept it hidden in the thick fur muff that went round his neck. A very large old animal, since dead, had given it to him when he was hardly more than a baby, and had told him never to part with it, for as long as he kept it no harm could ever come near him.In general the wild cat did not need to use his ball, for the lion was fond of hunting, and could kill all the food that they needed; but now and then his life would have been in danger had it not been for the golden ball.One day the two brothers started to hunt at daybreak, but as the cat could not run nearly as fast as the lion, he had quite a long start. At least he THOUGHT it was a long one, but in a very few bounds and springs the lion reached his side.‘There is a bear sitting on that tree,’ he whispered softly. ‘He is only waiting for us to pass, to drop down on my back.’‘Ah, you are so big that he does not see I am behind you,’ answered the wild cat. And, touching the ball, he just said: ‘Bear, die!’ And the bear tumbled dead out of the tree, and rolled over just in front of them.For some time they trotted on without any adventures, till just as they were about to cross a strip of long grass on the edge of the forest, the lion’s quick ears detected a faint rustling noise.‘That is a snake,’ he cried, stopping short, for he was much more afraid of snakes than of bears.‘Oh, it is all right,’ answered the cat. ‘Snake, die!’ And the snake died, and the two brothers skinned it. They then folded the skin up into a very small parcel, and the cat tucked it into his mane, for snakes’ skins can do all sorts of wonderful things, if you are lucky enough to have one of them.All this time they had had no dinner, for the snake’s flesh was not nice, and the lion did not like eating bear–perhaps because he never felt sure that the bear was REALLY dead, and would not jump up alive when his enemy went near him. Most people are afraid of SOME thing, and bears and serpents were the only creatures that caused the lion’s heart to tremble. So the two brothers set off again and soon reached the side of a hill where some fine deer were grazing.‘Kill one of those deer for your own dinner,’ said the boy- brother, ‘but catch me another alive. I want him.’The lion at once sprang towards them with a loud roar, but the deer bounded away, and they were all three soon lost to sight. The cat waited for a long while, but finding that the lion did not return, went back to the house where they lived.It was quite dark when the lion came home, where his brother was sitting curled up in one corner.‘Did you catch the deer for me?’ asked the boy-brother, springing up.‘Well, no,’ replied the man-brother. ‘The fact is, that I did not get up to them till we had run half way across the world and left the wind far behind us. Think what a trouble it would have been to drag it here! So–I just ate them both.’The cat said nothing, but he did not feel that he loved his big brother. He had thought a great deal about that deer, and had meant to get on his back to ride him as a horse, and go to see all the wonderful places the lion talked to him about when he was in a good temper. The more he thought of it the more sulky he grew, and in the morning, when the lion said that it was time for them to start to hunt, the cat told him that he might kill the bear and snake by himself, as HE had a headache, and would rather stay at home. The little fellow knew quite well that the lion would not dare to go out without him and his ball for fear of meeting a bear or a snake.The quarrel went on, and for many days neither of the brothers spoke to each other, and what made them still more cross was, that they could get very little to eat, and we know that people are often cross when they are hungry. At last it occurred to the lion that if he could only steal the magic ball he could kill bears and snakes for himself, and then the cat might be as sulky as he liked for anything that it would matter. But how was the stealing to be done? The cat had the ball hung round his neck day and night, and he was such a light sleeper that it was useless to think of taking it while he slept. No! the only thing was to get him to lend it of his own accord, and after some days the lion (who was not at all clever) hit upon a plan that he thought would do.‘Dear me, how dull it is here!’ said the lion one afternoon, when the rain was pouring down in such torrents that, however sharp your eyes or your nose might be, you could not spy a single bird or beast among the bushes. ‘Dear me, how dull, how dreadfully dull I am. Couldn’t we have a game of catch with that golden ball of yours?’‘I don’t care about playing catch, it does not amuse me,’ answered the cat, who was as cross as ever; for no cat, even to this day, ever forgets an injury done to him.‘Well, then, lend me the ball for a little, and I will play by myself,’ replied the lion, stretching out a paw as he spoke.‘You can’t play in the rain, and if you did, you would only lose it in the bushes,’ said the cat.‘Oh, no, I won’t; I will play in here. Don’t be so ill-natured.’ And with a very bad grace the cat untied the string and threw the golden ball into the lion’s lap, and composed himself to sleep again.For a long while the lion tossed it up and down gaily, feeling that, however sound asleep the boy-brother might LOOK, he was sure to have one eye open; but gradually he began to edge closer to the opening, and at last gave such a toss that the ball went up high into the air, and he could not see what became of it.‘Oh, how stupid of me!’ he cried, as the cat sprang up angrily, ‘let us go at once and search for it. It can’t really have fallen very far.’ But though they searched that day and the next, and the next after that, they never found it, because it never came down.After the loss of his ball the cat refused to live with the lion any longer, but wandered away to the north, always hoping he might meet with his ball again. But months passed, and years passed, and though he travelled over hundreds of miles, he never saw any traces of it.At length, when he was getting quite old, he came to a place unlike any that he had ever seen before, where a big river rolled right to the foot of some high mountains. The ground all about the river bank was damp and marshy, and as no cat likes to wet its feet, this one climbed a tree that rose high above the water, and thought sadly of his lost ball, which would have helped him out of this horrible place. Suddenly he saw a beautiful ball, for all the world like his own, dangling from a branch of the tree he was on. He longed to get at it; but was the branch strong enough to bear his weight? It was no use, after all he had done, getting drowned in the water. However, it could do no harm, if he was to go a little way; he could always manage to get back somehow.So he stretched himself at full length upon the branch, and wriggled his body cautiously along. To his delight it seemed thick and stout. Another movement, and, by stretching out his paw, he would be able to draw the string towards him, when the branch gave a loud crack, and the cat made haste to wriggle himself back the way he had come.But when cats make up their minds to do anything they generally DO it; and this cat began to look about to see if there was really no way of getting at his ball. Yes! there was, and it was much surer than the other, though rather more difficult. Above the bough where the ball was hung was another bough much thicker, which he knew could not break with his weight; and by holding on tight to this with all his four paws, he could just manage to touch the ball with his tail. He would thus be able to whisk the ball to and fro till, by-and-by, the string would become quite loose, and it would fall to the ground. It might take some time, but the lion’s little brother was patient, like most cats.Well, it all happened just as the cat intended it should, and when the ball dropped on the ground the cat ran down the tree like lightning, and, picking it up, tucked it away in the snake’s skin round his neck. Then he began jumping along the shore of the Big Water from one place to another, trying to find a boat, or even a log of wood, that would take him across. But there was nothing; only, on the other side, he saw two girls cooking, and though he shouted to them at the top of his voice, they were too far off to hear what he said. And, what was worse, the ball suddenly fell out of its snake’s skin bag right into the river.Now, it is not at all an uncommon thing for balls to tumble into rivers, but in that case they generally either fall to the bottom and stay there, or else bob about on the top of the water close to where they first touched it. But this ball, instead of doing either of these things, went straight across to the other side, and there one of the girls saw it when she stooped to dip some water into her pail.‘Oh! what a lovely ball!’ cried she, and tried to catch it in her pail; but the ball always kept bobbing just out of her reach.‘Come and help me!’ she called to her sister, and after a long while they had the ball safe inside the pail. They were delighted with their new toy, and one or the other held it in her hand till bedtime came, and then it was a long time before they could make up their minds where it would be safest for the night. At last they locked it in a cupboard in one corner of their room, and as there was no hole anywhere the ball could not possibly get out. After that they went to sleep.In the morning the first thing they both did was to run to the cupboard and unlock it, but when the door opened they started back, for, instead of the ball, there stood a handsome young man.‘Ladies,’ he said, ‘how can I thank you for what you have done for me? Long, long ago, I was enchanted by a wicked fairy, and condemned to keep the shape of a ball till I should meet with two maidens, who would take me to their own home. But where was I to meet them? For hundreds of years I have lived in the depths of the forest, where nothing but wild beasts ever came, and it was only when the lion threw me into the sky that I was able to fall to earth near this river. Where there is a river, sooner or later people will come; so, hanging myself on a tree, I watched and waited. For a moment I lost heart when I fell once more into the hands of my old master the wild cat, but my hopes rose again as I saw he was making for the river bank opposite where you were standing. That was my chance, and I took it. And now, ladies, I have only to say that, if ever I can do anything to help you, go to the top of that high mountain and knock three times at the iron door at the north side, and I will come to you.’So, with a low bow, he vanished from before them, leaving the maidens weeping at having lost in one moment both the ball and the prince.
Have you heard of the terrible Tic-balan,A tall and thin and very black man,With terrible teeth and a horse’s head,And covered with hair that is long and red?He lives in the awful Balete tree,And to pass the place you must say “Tabi”;If you do not, the Asuang comes at night,And throws big stones till you die of fright.Now once there lived in Santa Cruz townA little girl known as Juanita Calaon;She was gentle and sweet and as good as could be,And she always bowed low to the Balete tree.One day to the forest alone she did roamTo get some good wood for the fire at home;She gathered some twigs that she found on the ground,And all of them fast in a bundle she bound.Then happy and free, with the pack on her head,She followed the road that back to town led.She sang as she walked, and so happy was sheThat alas! she bowed not to the Balete tree.All at once then she heard a most terrible roar,And the Tic-balan fierce through the air seemed to soar.He seized poor Juanita, and quick as could beHe shut her inside of the Balete tree.Two days passed, and when the girl failed to come back,Her parents went out, and no friends did they lackTo help in the search, for the whole pueblo came,And loudly they shouted poor Juanita’s name.At last when they thought that the search brought no good,One man found Juanita’s neat bundle of wood;He called the good news, and as more came to see,Loud knocking was heard in the Balete tree.Then many were frightened, but many were brave,And wondered by what means the girl they could save;For they knew that it must be Juanita who knocked,And that inside the Balete tree she was locked.Soon they ordered that candles and music be brought,And a crucifix holy was what they next sought;And when all was ready they closed round the tree,While they prayed to the true God to set the girl free.They lighted the candles and then the band played,And Juanita’s mother, who was not afraid,Advanced with the crucifix held in her hand,And tapped with the cross on the evil tree grand.Then a roar shook the forest and chilled all their hearts,And the awful Balete split into two parts;Then they saw in the center, as each big half fell,Their darling Juanita all smiling and well.She ran from the tree to her fond mother dear,While the band played and every one gave a loud cheer;Then back to the pueblo they danced in delight,And kept up their singing through all the long night.Still there to this day lies the Balete tree,But no more do the people that pass say “Tabi.”And the spirit no more can molest any man,For God has more power than the fierce Tic-balan.
In the old days when London Bridge was lined with shops from one end to the other, and salmon swam under the arches, there lived at Swaffham, in Norfolk, a poor pedlar. He’d much ado to make his living, trudging about with his pack at his back and his dog at his heels, and at the close of the day’s labour was but too glad to sit down and sleep. Now it fell out that one night he dreamed a dream, and therein he saw the great bridge of London town, and it sounded in his ears that if he went there he should hear joyful news. He made little count of the dream, but on the following night it come back to him, and again on the third night.Then he said within himself, “I must needs try the issue of it,” and so he trudged up to London town. Long was the way and right glad was he when he stood on the great bridge and saw the tall houses on right hand and left, and had glimpses of the water running and the ships sailing by. All day long he paced to and fro, but he heard nothing that might yield him comfort. And again on the morrow he stood and he gazed—he paced afresh the length of London Bridge, but naught did he see and naught did he hear.Now the third day being come as he still stood and gazed, a shopkeeper hard by spoke to him.“Friend,” said he, “I wonder much at your fruitless standing. Have you no wares to sell?”“No, indeed,” quoth the pedlar.“And you do not beg for alms.”“Not so long as I can keep myself.”“Then what, I pray thee, dost thou want here, and what may thy business be?”“Well, kind sir, to tell the truth, I dreamed that if I came hither, I should hear good news.”Right heartily did the shopkeeper laugh.“Nay, thou must be a fool to take a journey on such a silly errand. I’ll tell thee, poor silly country fellow, that I myself dream too o’ nights, and that last night I dreamt myself to be in Swaffham, a place clean unknown to me, but in Norfolk if I mistake not, and methought I was in an orchard behind a pedlar’s house, and in that orchard was a great oak-tree. Then meseemed that if I digged I should find beneath that tree a great treasure. But think you I’m such a fool as to take on me a long and wearisome journey and all for a silly dream. No, my good fellow, learn wit from a wiser man than thyself. Get thee home, and mind thy business.”When the pedlar heard this he spoke no word, but was exceeding glad in himself, and returning home speedily, digged underneath the great oak-tree, and found a prodigious great treasure. He grew exceeding rich, but he did not forget his duty in the pride of his riches. For he built up again the church at Swaffham, and when he died they put a statue of him therein all in stone with his pack at his back and his dog at his heels. And there it stands to this day to witness if I lie.
As black-eyed, black-haired Eva Sauvet was walking one day in Jersey she saw a lozenge-marked snake, whereupon she ran away frightened.When she got home and told her mother, the old woman said:“Well, child, next time you see the snake give it your handkerchief.”The next day Eva went out with beating heart, and ere long she saw the snake come gliding out from the bushes, so she threw down her handkerchief, for she was too frightened to hand it to the snake.The snake’s eyes gleamed and twinkled, and taking the handkerchief into his fangs, he made off to an old ruin, whither Eva followed.But when they got to the ruin the snake disappeared, and Eva ran home to tell her mother.Next day, Père Sauvet and some men went to the ruin, where Eva showed the hole where the snake had disappeared.Old Père Sauvet lit a fire, and smoked the snake out, killing it with a stick as it glided over the stones.After that they dug out the hole, when they found the handkerchief. Digging still further along, they came upon a hollow place, at the bottom of which they found a lot of gold.
There was once a man who had twelve sons: the eleven eldest were both big and strong, but the twelfth, whose name was Esben, was only a little fellow. The eleven eldest went out with their father to field and forest, but Esben preferred to stay at home with his mother, and so he was never reckoned at all by the rest, but was a sort of outcast among them.When the eleven had grown up to be men they decided to go out into the world to try their fortune, and they plagued their father to give them what they required for the journey. The father was not much in favour of this, for he was now old and weak, and could not well spare them from helping him with his work, but in the long run he had to give in. Each one of the eleven got a fine white horse and money for the journey, and so they said farewell to their father and their home, and rode away.As for Esben, no one had ever thought about him; his brothers had not even said farewell to him.After the eleven were gone Esben went to his father and said, ‘Father, give me also a horse and money; I should also like to see round about me in the world.’‘You are a little fool,’ said his father. ‘If I could have let you go, and kept your eleven brothers at home, it would have been better for me in my old age.’‘Well, you will soon be rid of me at any rate,’ said Esben.As he could get no other horse, he went into the forest, broke off a branch, stripped the bark off it, so that it became still whiter than his brothers’ horses, and, mounted on this, rode off after his eleven brothers. The brothers rode on the whole day, and towards evening they came to a great forest, which they entered. Far within the wood they came to a little house, and knocked at the door. There came an old, ugly, bearded hag, and opened it, and they asked her whether all of them could get quarters for the night.‘Yes,’ said the old, bearded hag, ‘you shall all have quarters for the night, and, in addition, each of you shall have one of my daughters.’The eleven brothers thought that they had come to very hospitable people. They were well attended to, and when they went to bed, each of them got one of the hag’s daughters. Esben had been coming along behind them, and had followed the same way, and had also found the same house in the forest. He slipped into this, without either the witch or her daughters noticing him, and hid himself under one of the beds. A little before midnight he crept quietly out and wakened his brothers. He told these to change night-caps with the witch’s daughters. The brothers saw no reason for this, but, to get rid of Esben’s persistence, they made the exchange, and slept soundly again.When midnight came Esben heard the old witch come creeping along. She had a broad-bladed axe in her hand, and went over all the eleven beds. It was so dark that she could not see a hand’s breadth before her, but she felt her way, and hacked the heads off all the sleepers who had the men’s night-caps on—and these were her own daughters. As soon as she had gone her way Esben wakened his brothers, and they hastily took their horses and rode off from the witch’s house, glad that they had escaped so well. They quite forgot to thank Esben for what he had done for them.When they had ridden onwards for some time they reached a king’s palace, and inquired there whether they could be taken into service. Quite easily, they were told, if they would be stablemen, otherwise the king had no use for them. They were quite ready for this, and got the task of looking after all the king’s horses. Long after them came Esben riding on his stick, and he also wanted to get a place in the palace, but no one had any use for him, and he was told that he could just go back the way he had come. However, he stayed there and occupied himself as best he could. He got his food, but nothing more, and by night he lay just where he could.At this time there was in the palace a knight who was called Sir Red. He was very well liked by the king, but hated by everyone else, for he was wicked both in will and deed. This Sir Red became angry with the eleven brothers, because they would not always stand at attention for him, so he determined to avenge himself on them. One day, therefore, he went to the king, and said that the eleven brothers who had come to the palace a little while ago, and served as stablemen, could do a great deal more than they pretended. One day he had heard them say that if they liked they could get for the king a wonderful dove which had a feather of gold and a feather of silver time about. But they would not procure it unless they were threatened with death.The king then had the eleven brothers called before him, and said to them, ‘You have said that you can get me a dove which has feathers of gold and silver time about.’All the eleven assured him that they had never said anything of the kind, and they did not believe that such a dove existed in the whole world.‘Take your own mind of it,’ said the king; ‘but if you don’t get that dove within three days you shall lose your heads, the whole lot of you.’With that the king let them go, and there was great grief among them; some wept and others lamented.At that moment Esben came along, and, seeing their sorrowful looks, said to them, ‘Hello, what’s the matter with you?’‘What good would it do to tell you, you little fool? You can’t help us.’‘Oh, you don’t know that,’ answered Esben. ‘I have helped you before.’In the end they told him how unreasonable the king was, and how he had ordered them to get for him a dove with feathers of gold and silver time about.‘Give me a bag of peas’ said Esben, ‘and I shall see what I can do for you.’Esben got his bag of peas; then he took his white stick, and said, Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.Straightway the stick carried him across the river and straight into the old witch’s courtyard. Esben had noticed that she had such a dove; so when he arrived in the courtyard he shook the peas out of the bag, and the dove came fluttering down to pick them up. Esben caught it at once, put it into the bag, and hurried off before the witch caught sight of him; but the next moment she came running, and shouted after him, ‘ I Hey is that you, Esben.?’‘Is it you that has taken my dove?’‘Was it you that made me kill my eleven daughters?’‘Are you coming back again?’‘That may be,’ said Esben.‘Then you’ll catch it,’ shouted the witch.The stick carried Esben with the dove back to the king’s palace, and his brothers were greatly delighted. The king thanked them many times for the dove, and gave them in return both silver and gold. At this Sir Red became still more embittered, and again thought of how to avenge himself on the brothers.One day he went to the king and told him that the dove was by no means the best thing that the brothers could get for him; for one day he had heard them talking quietly among themselves, and they had said that they could procure a boar whose bristles were of gold and silver time about.The king again summoned the brothers before him, and asked whether it was true that they had said that they could get for him a boar whose bristles were of gold and silver time about.‘No,’ said the brothers; they had never said nor thought such a thing, and they did not believe that there was such a boar in the whole world.‘You must get me that boar within three days,’ said the king, ‘or it will cost you your heads.’With that they had to go. This was still worse than before, they thought. Where could they get such a marvellous boar? They all went about hanging their heads; but when only one day remained of the three Esben came along. When he saw his brothers’ sorrowful looks he cried, ‘Hallo, what’s the matter now?’‘Oh, what’s the use of telling you?’ said his brothers. ‘You can’t help us, at any rate.’‘Ah, you don’t know that,’ said Esben; ‘I’ve helped you before.’In the end they told him how Sir Red had stirred up the king against them, so that he had ordered them to get for him a boar with bristles of gold and silver time about.‘That’s all right,’ said Esben; ‘give me a sack of malt, and it is not quite impossible that I may be able to help you.’Esben got his sack of malt; then he took his little white stick, set himself upon it, and said,  Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.Off went the stick with him, and very soon he was again in the witch’s courtyard. There he emptied out the malt, and next moment came the boar, which had every second bristle of gold and of silver. Esben at once put it into his sack and hurried off before the witch should catch sight of him; but the next moment she came running, and shouted after him, ‘Hey! is that you, Esben?’‘Is it you that has taken my pretty boar?’‘It was also you that took my dove?’‘And it was you that made me kill my eleven daughters?’‘Are you coming back again?’‘That may be,’ said Esben.‘Then you’ll catch it,’ said the witch.Esben was soon back at the palace with the boar, and his brothers scarcely knew which leg to stand on, so rejoiced were they that they were safe again. Not one of them, however, ever thought of thanking Esben for what he had done for them.The king was still more rejoiced over the boar than he had been over the dove, and did not know what to give the brothers for it. At this Sir Red was again possessed with anger and envy, and again he went about and planned how to get the brothers into trouble.One day he went again to the king and said, ‘These eleven brothers have now procured the dove and the boar, but they can do much more than that; I know they have said that if they liked they could get for the king a lamp that can shine over seven kingdoms.’‘If they have said that,’ said the king, ‘they shall also be made to bring it to me. That would be a glorious lamp for me.’Again the king sent a message to the brothers to come up to the palace. They went accordingly, although very unwillingly, for they suspected that Sir Red had fallen on some new plan to bring them into trouble. As soon as they came before the king he said to them,‘You brothers have said that you could, if you liked, get for me a lamp that can shine over seven kingdoms. That lamp must be mine within three days, or it will cost you your lives.’The brothers assured him that they had never said so, and they were sure that no such lamp existed, but their words were of no avail.‘The lamp!’ said the king, ‘or it will cost you your heads.’The brothers were now in greater despair than ever. They did not know what to do, for such a lamp no one had ever heard of. But just as things looked their worst along came Esben.‘Something wrong again?’ said he. ‘What’s the matter with you now?’‘Oh, it’s no use telling you,’ said they. ‘You can’t help us, at any rate.’‘Oh, you might at least tell me,’ said Esben; ‘I have helped you before.’In the end they told him that the king had ordered them to bring him a lamp which could shine over seven kingdoms, but such a lamp no one had ever heard tell of.‘Give me a bushel of salt,’ said Esben, ‘and we shall see how matters go.’He got his bushel of salt, and then mounted his little white stick, and said, Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.With that both he and his bushel of salt were over beside the witch’s courtyard. But now matters were less easy, for he could not get inside the yard, as it was evening and the gate was locked. Finally he hit upon a plan; he got up on the roof and crept down the chimney.He searched all round for the lamp, but could find it nowhere, for the witch always had it safely guarded, as it was one of her most precious treasures. When he became tired of searching for it he crept into the baking- oven, intending to lie down there and sleep till morning; but just at that moment he heard the witch calling from her bed to one of her daughters, and telling her to make some porridge for her. She had grown hungry, and had taken such a fancy to some porridge. The daughter got out of bed, kindled the fire, and put on a pot with water in it.‘You mustn’t put any salt in the porridge, though,’ cried the witch.‘No, neither will I,’ said the daughter; but while she was away getting the meal Esben slipped out of the oven and emptied the whole bushel of salt into the pot. The daughter came back then and put in the meal, and after it had boiled a little she took it in to her mother. The witch took a spoonful and tasted it.‘Uh!’ said she; ‘didn’t I tell you not to put any salt in it, and it’s just as salt as the sea.’So the daughter had to go and make new porridge, and her mother warned her strictly not to put any salt in it. But now there was no water in the house, so she asked her mother to give her the lamp, so that she could go to the well for more.‘There you have it, then,’ said the witch; ‘but take good care of it.’The daughter took the lamp which shone over seven kingdoms, and went out to the well for water, while Esben slipped out after her. When she was going to draw the water from the well she set the lamp down on a stone beside her. Esben watched his chance, seized the lamp, and gave her a push from behind, so that she plumped head first into the well. Then he made off with the lamp. But the witch got out of her bed and ran after him, crying:‘Hey! is that you again, Esben?’‘Was it you that took my dove?’‘Was it also you that took my boar?’‘And it was you that made me kill my eleven daughters?’‘And now you have taken my lamp, and drowned my twelfth daughter in the well?’‘Are you coming back again?’‘Tht may be,’ said Esben.‘Then you’ll catch it,’ said the witch.It was only a minute before the stick had again landed Esben at the king’s palace, and the brothers were then freed from their distress. The king gave them many fine presents, but Esben did not get even so much as thanks from them.Never had Sir Red been so eaten up with envy as he was now, and he racked his brain day and night to find somehing quite impossible to demand from the brothers.One day he went to the king and told him that the lamp the brothers had procured was good enough, but they could still get for him something that was far better. The king asked what that was.‘It is,’ said Sir Red, ‘the most beautiful coverlet that any mortal ever heard tell of. It also has the property that, when anyone touches it, it sounds so that it can be heard over eight kingdoms.’‘That must be a splendid coverlet,’ said the king, and he at once sent for the brothers.‘You have said that you know of a coverlet, the most beautiful in the whole world, and which sounds over eight kingdoms when anyone touches it. You shall procure it for me, or else lose your lives,’ said he.The brothers answered him that they had never said a word about such a coverlet, did not believe it existed, and that it was quite impossible for them to procure it. But the king would not hear a word; he drove them away, telling them that if they did not get it very soon it would cost them their heads.Things looked very black again for the brothers, for they were sure there was no escape for them. The youngest of them, indeed, asked where Esben was, but the others said that that little fool could scarcely keep himself in clothes, and it was not to be expected that he could help them. Not one of them thought it worth while to look for Esben, but he soon came along of himself.‘Well, what’s the matter now?’ said he.‘Oh, what’s the use of telling you?’ said the brothers. ‘You can’t help us, at any rate.’‘Ah! who knows that?’ said Esben. ‘I have helped you before.’In the end the brothers told him about the coverlet which, when one touched it, sounded so that it could be heard over eight kingdoms. Esben thought that this was the worst errand that he had had yet, but he could not do worse than fail, and so he would make the attempt.He again took his little white stick, set himself on it, and said, Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.Next moment he was across the river and beside the witch’s house. It was evening, and the door was locked, but he knew the way down the chimney. When he had got into the house, however, the worst yet remained to do, for the coverlet was on the bed in which the witch lay and slept. He slipped into the room without either she or her daughter wakening; but as soon as he touched the coverlet to take it it sounded so that it could be heard over eight kingdoms. The witch awoke, sprang out of bed, and caught hold of Esben. He struggled with her, but could not free himself, and the witch called to her daughter, ‘Come and help me; we shall put him into the little dark room to be fattened. Ho, ho! now I have him!’Esben was now put into a little dark hole, where he neither saw sun nor moon, and there he was fed on sweet milk and nut-kernels. The daughter had enough to do cracking nuts for him, and at the end of fourteen days she had only one tooth left in her mouth; she had broken all the rest with the nuts. In this time however, she had taken a liking to Esben, and would willingly have set him free, but could not.When some time had passed the witch told her daughter to go and cut a finger off Esben, so that she could see whether he was nearly fat enough yet. The daughter went and told Esben, and asked him what she should do. Esben told her to take an iron nail and wrap a piece of skin round it: she could then give her mother this to bite at.The daughter did so, but when the witch bit it she cried, ‘Uh! no, no! This is nothing but skin and bone; he must be fattened much longer yet.’So Esben was fed for a while longer on sweet milk and nut-kernels, until one day the witch thought that now he must surely be fat enough, and told her daughter again to go and cut a finger off him. By this time Esben was tired of staying in the dark hole, so he told her to go and cut a teat off a cow, and give it to the witch to bite at. This the daughter did, and the witch cried, ‘Ah! now he is fat—so fat that one can scarcely feel the bone in him. Now he shall be killed.’Now this was just the very time that the witch had to go to Troms Church, where all the witches gather once every year, so she had no time to deal with Esben herself. She therefore told her daughter to heat up the big oven while she was away, take Esben out of his prison, and roast him in there before she came back. The daughter promised all this, and the witch went off on her journey.The daughter then made the oven as hot as could be, and took Esben out of his prison in order to roast him. She brought the oven spade, and told Esben to seat himself on it, so that she could shoot him into the oven. Esben accordingly took his seat on it, but when she had got him to the mouth of the oven he spread his legs out wide, so that she could not get him pushed in.‘You mustn’t sit like that,’ said she.‘How then?’ said Esben.‘You must cross your legs,’ said the daughter; but Esben could not understand what she meant by this.‘Get out of the way,’ said she, ‘and I will show you how to place yourself.’She seated herself on the oven spade, but no sooner had she done so than Esben laid hold of it, shot her into the oven, and fastened the door of it. Then he ran and seized the coverlet, but as soon as he did so it sounded so that it could be heard over eight kingdoms, and the witch, who was at Troms Church, came flying home, and shouted, ‘Hey! is that you again, Esben?’‘It was you that made me kill my eleven daughters?’‘And took my dove?’‘And my beautiful boar?’‘And drowned my twelfth daughter in the well, and took my lamp?’‘And now you have roasted my thirteenth and last daughter in the oven, and taken my coverlet?’‘Are you coming back again?’‘No, never again,’ said Esben.At this the witch became so furious that she sprang into numberless pieces of flint, and from this come all the flint stones that one finds about the country.Esben had found again his little stick, which the witch had taken from him, so he said, Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.Next moment he was back at the king’s palace. Here things were in a bad way, for the king had thrown all the eleven brothers into prison, and they were to be executed very shortly because they had not brought him the coverlet. Esben now went up to the king and gave him the coverlet, with which the king was greatly delighted. When he touched it it could be heard over eight kingdoms, and all the other kings sat and were angry because they had not one like it.Esben also told how everything had happened, and how Sir Red had done the brothers all the ill he could devise because he was envious of them. The brothers were at once set at liberty, while Sir Red, for his wickedness, was hanged on the highest tree that could be found, and so he got the reward he deserved.Much was made of Esben and his brothers, and these now thanked him for all that he had done for them. The twelve of them received as much gold and silver as they could carry, and betook themselves home to their old father. When he saw again his twelve sons, whom he had never expected to see more, he was so glad that he wept for joy. The brothers told him how much Esben had done, and how he had saved their lives, and from that time forward he was no longer the butt of the rest at home
In the kingdom of Kashgar, which is, as everybody knows, situated on the frontiers of Great Tartary, there lived long ago a tailor and his wife who loved each other very much. One day, when the tailor was hard at work, a little hunchback came and sat at the entrance of the shop, and began to sing and play his tambourine. The tailor was amused with the antics of the fellow, and thought he would take him home to entertain his wife. The hunchback having agreed to his proposal, the tailor closed his shop and they set off together.When they reached the house, they found the table ready laid for supper, and in a very few minutes all three were sitting before a beautiful fish which the tailor’s wife had cooked with her own hands. But unluckily, the hunchback happened to swallow a large bone, and, in spite of all the tailor and his wife could do to help him, died of suffocation in an instant. Besides being very sorry for the poor man, the tailor and his wife were very much frightened on their own account, for if the police came to hear of it, the worthy couple ran the risk of being thrown into prison for willful murder.In order to prevent this dreadful calamity they both set about inventing some plan which would throw suspicion on some one else, and at last they made up their minds that they could do no better than select a Jewish doctor who lived close by as the author of the crime. So the tailor picked up the hunchback by his head while his wife took his feet and carried him to the doctor’s house. Then they knocked at the door, which opened straight on to a steep staircase. A servant soon appeared, feeling her way down the dark staircase and inquired what they wanted.“Tell your master,” said the tailor, “that we have brought a very sick man for him to cure; and,” he added, holding out some money, “give him this in advance, so that he may not feel he is wasting his time.” The servant remounted the stairs to give the message to the doctor, and the moment she was out of sight the tailor and his wife carried the body swiftly after her, propped it up at the top of the staircase, and ran home as fast as their legs could carry them.Now the doctor was so delighted at the news of a patient (for he was young, and had not many of them), that he was transported with joy.“Get a light,” he called to the servant, “and follow me as fast as you can!” and rushing out of his room he ran towards the staircase. There he nearly fell over the body of the hunchback, and without knowing what it was gave it such a kick that it rolled right to the bottom, and very nearly dragged the doctor after it. “A light! A light!” he cried again, and when it was brought and he saw what he had done, he was almost beside himself with terror.“Holy Moses!” he exclaimed, “why did I not wait for the light? I have killed the sick man whom they brought me; and if the sacred Ass of Esdras does not come to my aid I am lost! It will not be long before I am led to jail as a murderer.”Agitated though he was, and with reason, the doctor did not forget to shut the house door, lest some passers-by might chance to see what had happened. He then took up the corpse and carried it into his wife’s room, nearly driving her crazy with fright.“It is all over with us!” she wailed, “if we cannot find some means of getting the body out of the house. Once let the sun rise and we can hide it no longer! How were you driven to commit such a terrible crime?”“Never mind that,” returned the doctor, “the thing is to find a way out of it.”For a long while the doctor and his wife continued to turn over in their minds a way of escape, but could not find any that seemed good enough. At last the doctor gave it up altogether and resigned himself to bear the penalty of his misfortune.But his wife, who had twice his brains, suddenly exclaimed, “I have thought of something! Let us carry the body on the roof of the house and lower it down the chimney of our neighbor the Muslim.” Now this Muslim was employed by the Sultan, and furnished his table with oil and butter. Part of his house was occupied by a great storeroom, which rats and mice enjoyed visiting.The doctor jumped at his wife’s plan, and they took up the hunchback, and passing cords under his armpits, they let him down into the purveyor’s bedroom so gently that he really seemed to be leaning against the wall. When they felt he was touching the ground, they drew up the cords and left him.Scarcely had they got back to their own house when the purveyor entered his room. He had spent the evening at a wedding feast, and had a lantern in his hand. In the dim light it cast he was astonished to see a man standing in his chimney, but being naturally courageous he seized a stick and made straight for the supposed thief. “Ah!” he cried, “so it is you, and not the rats and mice, who steal my butter. I’ll take care that you don’t want to come back!”So saying he struck him several hard blows. The corpse fell on the floor, but the man only redoubled his blows, till at length it occurred to him it was odd that the thief should lie so still and make no resistance. Then, finding he was quite dead, a cold fear took possession of him. “Wretch that I am,” said he, “I have murdered a man. Ah, my revenge has gone too far. Without the help of Allah I am undone! Cursed be the goods which have led me to my ruin.” And already he felt the rope round his neck.But when he had got over the first shock he began to think of some way out of the difficulty, and seizing the hunchback in his arms, he carried him out into the street, and leaning him against the wall of a shop he stole back to his own house, without once looking behind him.A few minutes before the sun rose, a rich Christian merchant, who supplied the palace with all sorts of necessaries, left his house, after a night of feasting, to go to the bath. Though he was very drunk, he was yet sober enough to know that the dawn was at hand, and that all good Mussulmen would shortly be going to prayer. So he hastened his steps lest he should meet some one on his way to the mosque, who, seeing his condition, would send him to prison as a drunkard. In his haste he jostled against the hunchback, who fell heavily upon him, and the merchant, thinking he was being attacked by a thief, knocked him down with one blow of his fist. He then called loudly for help, beating the fallen man all the while.The chief policeman of the quarter came running up, and found a Christian ill-treating a Muslim “What are you doing?” he asked indignantly.“He tried to rob me,” replied the merchant, “and very nearly choked me.”“Well, you have had your revenge,” said the man, catching hold of his arm. “Come, be off with you!”As he spoke, he held out his hand to the hunchback to help him up, but the hunchback never moved. “Oho!” he went on, looking closer, “so this is the way a Christian has the impudence to treat a Muslim!” and seizing the merchant in a firm grasp he took him to the inspector of police, who threw him into prison till the judge should be out of bed and ready to attend to his case. All this brought the merchant to his senses, but the more he thought of it the less he could understand how the hunchback could have died merely from the blows he had received.The merchant was still pondering on this subject when he was summoned before the chief of police and questioned about his crime, which he could not deny. As the hunchback was one of the Sultan’s private jesters, the chief of police resolved to defer sentence of death until he had consulted his master. He went to the palace to demand an audience, and told his story to the Sultan, who only answered,“There is no pardon for a Christian who kills a Muslim. Do your duty.”So the chief of police ordered a gallows to be erected, and sent criers to proclaim in every street in the city that a Christian was to be hanged that day for having killed a Muslim.When all was ready the merchant was brought from prison and led to the foot of the gallows. The executioner knotted the cord firmly round the unfortunate man’s neck and was just about to swing him into the air, when the Sultan’s purveyor dashed through the crowd, and cried, panting, to the hangman,“Stop, stop, don’t be in such a hurry. It was not he who did the murder, it was I.”The chief of police, who was present to see that everything was in order, put several questions to the purveyor, who told him the whole story of the death of the hunchback, and how he had carried the body to the place where it had been found by the Christian merchant.“You are going,” he said to the chief of police, “to kill an innocent man, for it is impossible that he should have murdered a creature who was dead already. It is bad enough for me to have slain a Muslim without having it on my conscience that a Christian who is guiltless should suffer through my fault.”Now the purveyor’s speech had been made in a loud voice, and was heard by all the crowd, and even if he had wished it, the chief of police could not have escaped setting the merchant free.“Loose the cords from the Christian’s neck,” he commanded, turning to the executioner, “and hang this man in his place, seeing that by his own confession he is the murderer.”The hangman did as he was bid, and was tying the cord firmly, when he was stopped by the voice of the Jewish doctor beseeching him to pause, for he had something very important to say. When he had fought his way through the crowd and reached the chief of police.“Worshipful sir,” he began, “this Muslim whom you desire to hang is unworthy of death; I alone am guilty. Last night a man and a woman who were strangers to me knocked at my door, bringing with them a patient for me to cure. The servant opened it, but having no light was hardly able to make out their faces, though she readily agreed to wake me and to hand me the fee for my services. While she was telling me her story they seem to have carried the sick man to the top of the staircase and then left him there. I jumped up in a hurry without waiting for a lantern, and in the darkness I fell against something, which tumbled headlong down the stairs and never stopped till it reached the bottom.When I examined the body I found it was quite dead, and the corpse was that of a hunchback Muslim. Terrified at what we had done, my wife and I took the body on the roof and let it down the chimney of our neighbor the purveyor, whom you were just about to hang. The purveyor, finding him in his room, naturally thought he was a thief, and struck him such a blow that the man fell down and lay motionless on the floor. Stooping to examine him, and finding him stone dead, the purveyor supposed that the man had died from the blow he had received; but of course this was a mistake, as you will see from my account, and I only am the murderer; and although I am innocent of any wish to commit a crime, I must suffer for it all the same, or else have the blood of two Musselmans on my conscience. Therefore send away this man, I pray you, and let me take his place, as it is I who am guilty.”On hearing the declaration of the Jewish doctor, the chief of police commanded that he should be led to the gallows, and the Sultan’s purveyor go free. The cord was placed round the Jew’s neck, and his feet had already ceased to touch the ground when the voice of the tailor was heard beseeching the executioner to pause one moment and to listen to what he had to say.“Oh, my lord,” he cried, turning to the chief of police, “how nearly have you caused the death of three innocent people! But if you will only have the patience to listen to my tale, you shall know who is the real culprit. If some one has to suffer, it must be me! Yesterday, at dusk, I was working in my shop with a light heart when the little hunchback, who was more than half drunk, came and sat in the doorway. He sang me several songs, and then I invited him to finish the evening at my house. He accepted my invitation, and we went away together. At supper I helped him to a slice of fish, but in eating it a bone stuck in his throat, and in spite of all we could do, he died in a few minutes. We felt deeply sorry for his death, but fearing lest we should be held responsible, we carried the corpse to the house of the Jewish doctor. I knocked, and desired the servant to beg her master to come down as fast as possible and see a sick man whom we had brought for him to cure; and in order to hasten his movements I placed a piece of money in her hand as the doctor’s fee. Directly she had disappeared I dragged the body to the top of the stairs, and then hurried away with my wife back to our house. In descending the stairs the doctor accidentally knocked over the corpse, and finding him dead believed that he himself was the murderer. But now you know the truth set him free, and let me die in his stead.”The chief of police and the crowd of spectators were lost in astonishment at the strange events to which the death of the hunchback had given rise.“Loosen the Jewish doctor,” said he to the hangman, “and string up the tailor instead, since he has made confession of his crime. Really, one cannot deny that this is a very singular story, and it deserves to be written in letters of gold.”The executioner speedily untied the knots which confined the doctor, and was passing the cord round the neck of the tailor, when the Sultan of Kashgar, who had missed his jester, happened to make inquiry of his officers as to what had become of him.“Sire,” replied they, “the hunchback having drunk more than was good for him, escaped from the palace and was seen wandering about the town, where this morning he was found dead. A man was arrested for having caused his death, and held in custody till a gallows was erected. At the moment that he was about to suffer punishment, first one man arrived, and then another, each accusing themselves of the murder, and this went on for a long time, and at the present instant the chief of police is engaged in questioning a man who declares that he alone is the true assassin.”The Sultan of Kashgar no sooner heard these words than he ordered an usher to go to the chief of police and to bring all the persons concerned in the hunchback’s death, together with the corpse, that he wished to see once again. The usher hastened on his errand, but was only just in time, for the tailor was positively swinging in the air, when his voice fell upon the silence of the crowd, commanding the hangman to cut down the body. The hangman, recognising the usher as one of the king’s servants, cut down the tailor, and the usher, seeing the man was safe, sought the chief of police and gave him the Sultan’s message. Accordingly, the chief of police at once set out for the palace, taking with him the tailor, the doctor, the purveyor, and the merchant, who bore the dead hunchback on their shoulders.When the procession reached the palace the chief of police prostrated himself at the feet of the Sultan, and related all that he knew of the matter. The Sultan was so much struck by the circumstances that he ordered his private historian to write down an exact account of what had passed, so that in the years to come the miraculous escape of the four men who had thought themselves murderers might never be forgotten.The Sultan asked everybody concerned in the hunchback’s affair to tell him their stories. Among others was a prating barber, whose tale of one of his brothers follows.
In the dim ages of the past there once was an old man who went on a journey. No one remained at home save his only daughter and a white stallion. The daughter fed the horse day by day, but she was lonely and yearned for her father.So it happened that one day she said in jest to the horse: “If you will bring back my father to me then I will marry you!”No sooner had the horse heard her say this, than he broke loose and ran away. He ran until he came to the place where her father was. When her father saw the horse, he was pleasantly surprised, caught him and seated himself on his back. And the horse turned back the way he had come, neighing without a pause.“What can be the matter with the horse?” thought the father. “Something must have surely gone wrong at home!” So he dropped the reins and rode back. And he fed the horse liberally because he had been so intelligent; but the horse ate nothing, and when he saw the girl, he struck out at her with his hoofs and tried to bite her. This surprised the father; he questioned his daughter, and she told him the truth, just as it had occurred.“You must not say a word about it to any one,” spoke her father, “or else people will talk about us.”And he took down his crossbow, shot the horse, and hung up his skin in the yard to dry. Then he went on his travels again.One day his daughter went out walking with the daughter of a neighbor. When they entered the yard, she pushed the horse-hide with her foot and said: “What an unreasonable animal you were—wanting to marry a human being! What happened to you served you right!”But before she had finished her speech, the horse-hide moved, rose up, wrapped itself about the girl and ran off.Horrified, her companion ran home to her father and told him what had happened. The neighbors looked for the girl everywhere, but she could not be found.At last, some days afterward, they saw the girl hanging from the branches of a tree, still wrapped in the horse-hide; and gradually she turned into a silkworm and wove a cocoon. And the threads which she spun were strong and thick. Her girl friend then took down the cocoon and let her slip out of it; and then she spun the silk and sold it at a large profit.But the girl’s relatives longed for her greatly. So one day the girl appeared riding in the clouds on her horse, followed by a great company and said: “In heaven I have been assigned to the task of watching over the growing of silkworms. You must yearn for me no longer!” And thereupon they built temples to her in her native land, and every year, at the silkworm season, sacrifices are offered to her and her protection is implored. And the Silkworm Goddess is also known as the girl with the Horse’s Head.Note: This tale is placed in the times of the Emperor Hau, and the legend seems to have originated in Setchuan. The stallion is the sign of the zodiac which rules the springtime, the season when the silkworms are cultivated. Hence she is called the Goddess with the Horse’s Head. The legend itself tells a different tale. In addition to this goddess, the spouse of Schen Nung, the “Divine Husbandman,” is also worshiped as the goddess of silkworm culture. The Goddess with the Horse’s Head is more of a totemic representation of the silkworm as such; while the wife of Schen Nung is regarded as the protecting goddess of silk culture, and is supposed to have been the first to teach women its details. The spouse of the Yellow Lord is mentioned in the same connection. The popular belief distinguishes three goddesses who protect the silkworm culture in turn. The second is the best of the three, and when it is her year the silk turns out well.
Once upon a time there lived a queen who had been the mother of a great many children, and of them all only one daughter was left. But then she was worth at least a thousand.Her mother, who, since the death of the King, her father, had nothing in the world she cared for so much as this little Princess, was so terribly afraid of losing her that she quite spoiled her, and never tried to correct any of her faults. The consequence was that this little person, who was as pretty as possible, and was one day to wear a crown, grew up so proud and so much in love with her own beauty that she despised everyone else in the world.The Queen, her mother, by her caresses and flatteries, helped to make her believe that there was nothing too good for her. She was dressed almost always in the prettiest frocks, as a fairy, or as a queen going out to hunt, and the ladies of the Court followed her dressed as forest fairies.And to make her more vain than ever the Queen caused her portrait to be taken by the cleverest painters and sent it to several neighboring kings with whom she was very friendly.When they saw this portrait they fell in love with the Princess—every one of them, but upon each it had a different effect. One fell ill, one went quite crazy, and a few of the luckiest set off to see her as soon as possible, but these poor princes became her slaves the moment they set eyes on her.Never has there been a gayer Court. Twenty delightful kings did everything they could think of to make themselves agreeable, and after having spent ever so much money in giving a single entertainment thought themselves very lucky if the Princess said “That’s pretty.”All this admiration vastly pleased the Queen. Not a day passed but she received seven or eight thousand sonnets, and as many elegies, madrigals, and songs, which were sent her by all the poets in the world. All the prose and the poetry that was written just then was about Bellissima—for that was the Princess’s name—and all the bonfires that they had were made of these verses, which crackled and sparkled better than any other sort of wood.Bellissima was already fifteen years old, and every one of the Princes wished to marry her, but not one dared to say so. How could they when they knew that any of them might have cut off his head five or six times a day just to please her, and she would have thought it a mere trifle, so little did she care? You may imagine how hard-hearted her lovers thought her; and the Queen, who wished to see her married, did not know how to persuade her to think of it seriously.“Bellissima,” she said, “I do wish you would not be so proud. What makes you despise all these nice kings? I wish you to marry one of them, and you do not try to please me.”“I am so happy,” Bellissima answered: “do leave me in peace, madam. I don’t want to care for anyone.”“But you would be very happy with any of these Princes,” said the Queen, “and I shall be very angry if you fall in love with anyone who is not worthy of you.”But the Princess thought so much of herself that she did not consider any one of her lovers clever or handsome enough for her; and her mother, who was getting really angry at her determination not to be married, began to wish that she had not allowed her to have her own way so much.At last, not knowing what else to do, she resolved to consult a certain witch who was called “The Fairy of the Desert.” Now this was very difficult to do, as she was guarded by some terrible lions; but happily the Queen had heard a long time before that whoever wanted to pass these lions safely must throw to them a cake made of millet flour, sugar-candy, and crocodile’s eggs. This cake she prepared with her own hands, and putting it in a little basket, she set out to seek the Fairy. But as she was not used to walking far, she soon felt very tired and sat down at the foot of a tree to rest, and presently fell fast asleep. When she awoke she was dismayed to find her basket empty. The cake was all gone! and, to make matters worse, at that moment she heard the roaring of the great lions, who had found out that she was near and were coming to look for her.“What shall I do?” she cried; “I shall be eaten up,” and being too frightened to run a single step, she began to cry, and leaned against the tree under which she had been asleep.Just then she heard some one say: “H’m, h’m!”She looked all round her, and then up the tree, and there she saw a little tiny man, who was eating oranges.“Oh! Queen,” said he, “I know you very well, and I know how much afraid you are of the lions; and you are quite right too, for they have eaten many other people: and what can you expect, as you have not any cake to give them?”“I must make up my mind to die,” said the poor Queen. “Alas! I should not care so much if only my dear daughter were married.”“Oh! you have a daughter,” cried the Yellow Dwarf (who was so called because he was a dwarf and had such a yellow face, and lived in the orange tree). “I’m really glad to hear that, for I’ve been looking for a wife all over the world. Now, if you will promise that she shall marry me, not one of the lions, tigers, or bears shall touch you.”The Queen looked at him and was almost as much afraid of his ugly little face as she had been of the lions before, so that she could not speak a word.“What! you hesitate, madam,” cried the Dwarf. “You must be very fond of being eaten up alive.”And, as he spoke, the Queen saw the lions, which were running down a hill toward them.Each one had two heads, eight feet, and four rows of teeth, and their skins were as hard as turtle shells, and were bright red.At this dreadful sight, the poor Queen, who was trembling like a dove when it sees a hawk, cried out as loud as she could, “Oh! dear Mr. Dwarf, Bellissima shall marry you.”“Oh, indeed!” said he disdainfully. “Bellissima is pretty enough, but I don’t particularly want to marry her—you can keep her.”“Oh! noble sir,” said the Queen in great distress, “do not refuse her. She is the most charming Princess in the world.”“Oh! well,” he replied, “out of charity I will take her; but be sure and don’t forget that she is mine.”As he spoke a little door opened in the trunk of the orange tree, in rushed the Queen, only just in time, and the door shut with a bang in the faces of the lions.The Queen was so confused that at first she did not notice another little door in the orange tree, but presently it opened and she found herself in a field of thistles and nettles. It was encircled by a muddy ditch, and a little further on was a tiny thatched cottage, out of which came the Yellow Dwarf with a very jaunty air. He wore wooden shoes and a little yellow coat, and as he had no hair and very long ears he looked altogether a shocking little object.“I am delighted,” said he to the Queen, “that, as you are to be my mother-in-law, you should see the little house in which your Bellissima will live with me. With these thistles and nettles she can feed a donkey which she can ride whenever she likes; under this humble roof no weather can hurt her; she will drink the water of this brook and eat frogs—which grow very fat about here; and then she will have me always with her, handsome, agreeable, and gay as you see me now. For if her shadow stays by her more closely than I do I shall be surprised.”The unhappy Queen, seeing all at once what a miserable life her daughter would have with this Dwarf could not bear the idea, and fell down insensible without saying a word.When she revived she found to her great surprise that she was lying in her own bed at home, and, what was more, that she had on the loveliest lace night cap that she had ever seen in her life. At first she thought that all her adventures, the terrible lions, and her promise to the Yellow Dwarf that he should marry Bellissima, must have been a dream, but there was the new cap with its beautiful ribbon and lace to remind her that it was all true, which made her so unhappy that she could neither eat, drink, nor sleep for thinking of it.The Princess, who, in spite of her wilfulness, really loved her mother with all her heart, was much grieved when she saw her looking so sad, and often asked her what was the matter; but the Queen, who didn’t want her to find out the truth, only said that she was ill, or that one of her neighbors was threatening to make war against her. Bellissima knew quite well that something was being hidden from her—and that neither of these was the real reason of the Queen’s uneasiness. So she made up her mind that she would go and consult the Fairy of the Desert about it, especially as she had often heard how wise she was, and she thought that at the same time she might ask her advice as to whether it would be as well to be married, or not.So, with great care, she made some of the proper cake to pacify the lions, and one night went up to her room very early, pretending that she was going to bed; but instead of that, she wrapped herself in a long white veil, and went down a secret staircase, and set off all by herself to find the Witch.But when she got as far as the same fatal orange tree, and saw it covered with flowers and fruit, she stopped and began to gather some of the oranges—and then, putting down her basket, she sat down to eat them. But when it was time to go on again the basket had disappeared and, though she looked everywhere, not a trace of it could she find. The more she hunted for it, the more frightened she got, and at last she began to cry. Then all at once she saw before her the Yellow Dwarf.“What’s the matter with you, my pretty one?” said he. “What are you crying about?”“Alas!” she answered; “no wonder that I am crying, seeing that I have lost the basket of cake that was to help me to get safely to the cave of the Fairy of the Desert.”“And what do you want with her, pretty one?” said the little monster, “for I am a friend of hers, and, for the matter of that, I am quite as clever as she is.”“The Queen, my mother,” replied the Princess, “has lately fallen into such deep sadness that I fear that she will die; and I am afraid that perhaps I am the cause of it, for she very much wishes me to be married, and I must tell you truly that as yet I have not found anyone I consider worthy to be my husband. So for all these reasons I wished to talk to the Fairy.”“Do not give yourself any further trouble, Princess,” answered the Dwarf. “I can tell you all you want to know better than she could. The Queen, your mother, has promised you in marriage——”“Has promised me!” interrupted the Princess. “Oh! no. I’m sure she has not. She would have told me if she had. I am too much interested in the matter for her to promise anything without my consent—you must be mistaken.”“Beautiful Princess,” cried the Dwarf suddenly, throwing himself on his knees before her, “I flatter myself that you will not be displeased at her choice when I tell you that it is to me she has promised the happiness of marrying you.”“You!” cried Bellissima, starting back. “My mother wishes me to marry you! How can you be so silly as to think of such a thing?”“Oh! it isn’t that I care much to have that honor,” cried the Dwarf angrily; “but here are the lions coming; they’ll eat you up in three mouthfuls, and there will be an end of you and your pride.”And, indeed, at that moment the poor Princess heard their dreadful howls coming nearer and nearer.“What shall I do?” she cried. “Must all my happy days come to an end like this?”The malicious Dwarf looked at her and began to laugh spitefully. “At least,” said he, “you have the satisfaction of dying unmarried. A lovely Princess like you must surely prefer to die rather than be the wife of a poor little dwarf like myself.”“Oh, don’t be angry with me,” cried the Princess, clasping her hands. “I’d rather marry all the dwarfs in the world than die in this horrible way.”“Look at me well, Princess, before you give me your word,” said he. “I don’t want you to promise me in a hurry.”“Oh!” cried she, “the lions are coming. I have looked at you enough. I am so frightened. Save me this minute, or I shall die of terror.”Indeed, as she spoke she fell down insensible, and when she recovered she found herself in her own little bed at home; how she got there she could not tell, but she was dressed in the most beautiful lace and ribbons, and on her finger was a little ring, made of a single red hair, which fitted so tightly that, try as she might, she could not get it off.When the Princess saw all these things, and remembered what had happened, she, too, fell into the deepest sadness, which surprised and alarmed the whole Court, and the Queen more than anyone else. A hundred times she asked Bellissima if anything was the matter with her; but she always said that there was nothing.At last the chief men of the kingdom, anxious to see their Princess married, sent to the Queen to beg her to choose a husband for her as soon as possible. She replied that nothing would please her better, but that her daughter seemed so unwilling to marry, and she recommended them to go and talk to the Princess about it themselves so this they at once did. Now Bellissima was much less proud since her adventure with the Yellow Dwarf, and she could not think of a better way of getting rid of the little monster than to marry some powerful king, therefore she replied to their request much more favorably than they had hoped, saying that, though she was very happy as she was, still, to please them, she would consent to marry the King of the Gold Mines. Now he was a very handsome and powerful Prince, who had been in love with the Princess for years, but had not thought that she would ever care about him at all. You can easily imagine how delighted he was when he heard the news, and how angry it made all the other kings to lose for ever the hope of marrying the Princess; but, after all, Bellissima could not have married twenty kings—indeed, she had found it quite difficult enough to choose one, for her vanity made her believe that there was nobody in the world who was worthy of her.Preparations were begun at once for the grandest wedding that had ever been held at the palace. The King of the Gold Mines sent such immense sums of money that the whole sea was covered with the ships that brought it. Messengers were sent to all the gayest and most refined Courts, particularly to the Court of France, to seek out everything rare and precious to adorn the Princess, although her beauty was so perfect that nothing she wore could make her look prettier. At least that is what the King of the Gold Mines thought, and he was never happy unless he was with her.As for the Princess, the more she saw of the King the more she liked him; he was so generous, so handsome and clever, that at last she was almost as much in love with him as he was with her. How happy they were as they wandered about in the beautiful gardens together, sometimes listening to sweet music! And the King used to write songs for Bellissima. This is one that she liked very much: In the forest all is gayWhen my Princess walks that way.All the blossoms then are foundDownward fluttering to the ground,Hoping she may tread on them.And bright flowers on slender stemGaze up at her as she passesBrushing lightly through the grasses.Oh! my Princess, birds aboveEcho back our songs of love,As through this enchanted landBlithe we wander, hand in hand.They really were as happy as the day was long. All the King’s unsuccessful rivals had gone home in despair. They said good-by to the Princess so sadly that she could not help being sorry for them.“Ah! madam,” the King of the Gold Mines said to her “how is this? Why do you waste your pity on these princes, who love you so much that all their trouble would be well repaid by a single smile from you?”“I should be sorry,” answered Bellissima, “if you had not noticed how much I pitied these princes who were leaving me for ever; but for you, sire, it is very different: you have every reason to be pleased with me, but they are going sorrowfully away, so you must not grudge them my compassion.”The King of the Gold Mines was quite overcome by the Princess’s good-natured way of taking his interference, and, throwing himself at her feet, he kissed her hand a thousand times and begged her to forgive him.At last the happy day came. Everything was ready for Bellissima’s wedding. The trumpets sounded, all the streets of the town were hung with flags and strewn with flowers, and the people ran in crowds to the great square before the palace. The Queen was so overjoyed that she had hardly been able to sleep at all, and she got up before it was light to give the necessary orders and to choose the jewels that the Princess was to wear. These were nothing less than diamonds, even to her shoes, which were covered with them, and her dress of silver brocade was embroidered with a dozen of the sun’s rays. You may imagine how much these had cost; but then nothing could have been more brilliant, except the beauty of the Princess! Upon her head she wore a splendid crown, her lovely hair waved nearly to her feet, and her stately figure could easily be distinguished among all the ladies who attended her.The King of the Gold Mines was not less noble and splendid; it was easy to see by his face how happy he was, and everyone who went near him returned loaded with presents, for all round the great banqueting hall had been arranged a thousand barrels full of gold, and numberless bags made of velvet embroidered with pearls and filled with money, each one containing at least a hundred thousand gold pieces, which were given away to everyone who liked to hold out his hand, which numbers of people hastened to do, you may be sure—indeed, some found this by far the most amusing part of the wedding festivities.The Queen and the Princess were just ready to set out with the King when they saw, advancing toward them from the end of the long gallery, two great basilisks, dragging after them a very badly made box; behind them came a tall old woman, whose ugliness was even more surprising than her extreme old age. She wore a ruff of black taffeta, a red velvet hood, and a farthingale all in rags, and she leaned heavily upon a crutch. This strange old woman, without saying a single word, hobbled three times round the gallery, followed by the basilisks, then stopping in the middle, and brandishing her crutch threateningly, she cried:“Ho, ho, Queen! Ho, ho, Princess! Do you think you are going to break with impunity the promise that you made to my friend the Yellow Dwarf? I am the Fairy of the Desert; without the Yellow Dwarf and his orange tree my great lions would soon have eaten you up, I can tell you, and in Fairyland we do not suffer ourselves to be insulted like this. Make up your minds at once what you will do, for I vow that you shall marry the Yellow Dwarf. If you don’t, may I burn my crutch!”“Ah! Princess,” said the Queen, weeping, “what is this that I hear? What have you promised?”“Ah! my mother,” replied Bellissima sadly, “what did you promise, yourself?”The King of the Gold Mines, indignant at being kept from his happiness by this wicked old woman, went up to her, and threatening her with his sword, said:“Get away out of my country at once, and for ever, miserable creature, lest I take your life, and so rid myself of your malice.”He had hardly spoken these words when the lid of the box fell back on the floor with a terrible noise, and to their horror out sprang the Yellow Dwarf, mounted upon a great Spanish cat. “Rash youth!” he cried, rushing between the Fairy of the Desert and the King. “Dare to lay a finger upon this illustrious Fairy! Your quarrel is with me only. I am your enemy and your rival. That faithless Princess who would have married you is promised to me. See if she has not upon her finger a ring made of one of my hairs. Just try to take it off, and you will soon find out that I am more powerful than you are!”“Wretched little monster!” said the King; “do you dare to call yourself the Princess’s lover, and to lay claim to such a treasure? Do you know that you are a dwarf—that you are so ugly that one cannot bear to look at you—and that I should have killed you myself long before this if you had been worthy of such a glorious death?”The Yellow Dwarf, deeply enraged at these words, set spurs to his cat, which yelled horribly, and leaped hither and thither—terrifying everybody except the brave King, who pursued the Dwarf closely, till he, drawing a great knife with which he was armed, challenged the King to meet him in single combat, and rushed down into the courtyard of the palace with a terrible clatter. The King, quite provoked, followed him hastily, but they had hardly taken their places facing one another, and the whole Court had only just had time to rush out upon the balconies to watch what was going on, when suddenly the sun became as red as blood, and it was so dark that they could scarcely see at all. The thunder crashed, and the lightning seemed as if it must burn up everything; the two basilisks appeared, one on each side of the bad Dwarf, like giants, mountains high, and fire flew from their mouths and ears, until they looked like flaming furnaces. None of these things could terrify the noble young King, and the boldness of his looks and actions reassured those who were looking on, and perhaps even embarrassed the Yellow Dwarf himself; but even his courage gave way when he saw what was happening to his beloved Princess. For the Fairy of the Desert, looking more terrible than before, mounted upon a winged griffin, and with long snakes coiled round her neck, had given her such a blow with the lance she carried that Bellissima fell into the Queen’s arms bleeding and senseless. Her fond mother, feeling as much hurt by the blow as the Princess herself, uttered such piercing cries and lamentations that the King, hearing them, entirely lost his courage and presence of mind. Giving up the combat, he flew toward the Princess, to rescue or to die with her; but the Yellow Dwarf was too quick for him. Leaping with his Spanish cat upon the balcony, he snatched Bellissima from the Queen’s arms, and before any of the ladies of the Court could stop him he had sprung upon the roof of the palace and disappeared with his prize.The King, motionless with horror, looked on despairingly at this dreadful occurrence, which he was quite powerless to prevent, and to make matters worse his sight failed him, everything became dark, and he felt himself carried along through the air by a strong hand.This new misfortune was the work of the wicked Fairy of the Desert, who had come with the Yellow Dwarf to help him carry off the Princess, and had fallen in love with the handsome young King of the Gold Mines directly she saw him. She thought that if she carried him off to some frightful cavern and chained him to a rock, then the fear of death would make him forget Bellissima and become her slave. So, as soon as they reached the place, she gave him back his sight, but without releasing him from his chains, and by her magic power she appeared before him as a young and beautiful fairy, and pretended to have come there quite by chance.“What do I see?” she cried. “Is it you, dear Prince? What misfortune has brought you to this dismal place?”The King, who was quite deceived by her altered appearance, replied:“Alas! beautiful Fairy, the fairy who brought me here first took away my sight, but by her voice I recognized her as the Fairy of the Desert, though what she should have carried me off for I cannot tell you.”“Ah!” cried the pretended Fairy, “if you have fallen into her hands, you won’t get away until you have married her. She has carried off more than one Prince like this, and she will certainly have anything she takes a fancy to.” While she was thus pretending to be sorry for the King, he suddenly noticed her feet, which were like those of a griffin, and knew in a moment that this must be the Fairy of the Desert, for her feet were the one thing she could not change, however pretty she might make her face.Without seeming to have noticed anything, he said, in a confidential way:“Not that I have any dislike to the Fairy of the Desert, but I really cannot endure the way in which she protects the Yellow Dwarf and keeps me chained here like a criminal. It is true that I love a charming princess, but if the Fairy should set me free my gratitude would oblige me to love her only.”“Do you really mean what you say, Prince?” said the Fairy, quite deceived.“Surely,” replied the Prince; “how could I deceive you? You see it is so much more flattering to my vanity to be loved by a fairy than by a simple princess. But, even if I am dying of love for her, I shall pretend to hate her until I am set free.”The Fairy of the Desert, quite taken in by these words, resolved at once to transport the Prince to a pleasanter place. So, making him mount her chariot, to which she had harnessed swans instead of the bats which generally drew it, away she flew with him. But imagine the distress of the Prince when, from the giddy height at which they were rushing through the air, he saw his beloved Princess in a castle built of polished steel, the walls of which reflected the sun’s rays so hotly that no one could approach it without being burnt to a cinder! Bellissima was sitting in a little thicket by a brook, leaning her head upon her hand and weeping bitterly, but just as they passed she looked up and saw the King and the Fairy of the Desert. Now, the Fairy was so clever that she could not only seem beautiful to the King, but even the poor Princess thought her the most lovely being she had ever seen.“What!” she cried; “was I not unhappy enough in this lonely castle to which that frightful Yellow Dwarf brought me? Must I also be made to know that the King of the Gold Mines ceased to love me as soon as he lost sight of me? But who can my rival be, whose fatal beauty is greater than mine?”While she was saying this, the King, who really loved her as much as ever, was feeling terribly sad at being so rapidly torn away from his beloved Princess, but he knew too well how powerful the Fairy was to have any hope of escaping from her except by great patience and cunning.The Fairy of the Desert had also seen Bellissima, and she tried to read in the King’s eyes the effect that this unexpected sight had had upon him.“No one can tell you what you wish to know better than I can,” said he. “This chance meeting with an unhappy princess for whom I once had a passing fancy, before I was lucky enough to meet you, has affected me a little, I admit, but you are so much more to me than she is that I would rather die than leave you.”“Ah, Prince,” she said, “can I believe that you really love me so much?”“Time will show, madam,” replied the King; “but if you wish to convince me that you have some regard for me, do not, I beg of you, refuse to aid Bellissima.”“Do you know what you are asking?” said the Fairy of the Desert, frowning, and looking at him suspiciously. “Do you want me to employ my art against the Yellow Dwarf, who is my best friend, and take away from him a proud princess whom I can but look upon as my rival?”The King sighed, but made no answer—indeed, what was there to be said to such a clear-sighted person? At last they reached a vast meadow, gay with all sorts of flowers; a deep river surrounded it, and many little brooks murmured softly under the shady trees, where it was always cool and fresh. A little way off stood a splendid palace, the walls of which were of transparent emeralds. As soon as the swans which drew the Fairy’s chariot had alighted under a porch, which was paved with diamonds and had arches of rubies, they were greeted on all sides by thousands of beautiful beings, who came to meet them joyfully, singing these words: “When Love within a heart would reign,Useless to strive against him ’tis.The proud but feel a sharper pain,And make a greater triumph his.”The Fairy of the Desert was delighted to hear them sing of her triumphs; she led the King into the most splendid room that can be imagined, and left him alone for a little while, just that he might not feel that he was a prisoner; but he felt sure that she had not really gone quite away, but was watching him from some hiding-place. So walking up to a great mirror, he said to it, “Trusty counsellor, let me see what I can do to make myself agreeable to the charming Fairy of the Desert; for I can think of nothing but how to please her.”And he at once set to work to curl his hair, and, seeing upon a table a grander coat than his own, he put it on carefully. The Fairy came back so delighted that she could not conceal her joy.“I am quite aware of the trouble you have taken to please me,” said she, “and I must tell you that you have succeeded perfectly already. You see it is not difficult to do if you really care for me.”The King, who had his own reasons for wishing to keep the old Fairy in a good humor, did not spare pretty speeches, and after a time he was allowed to walk by himself upon the sea-shore. The Fairy of the Desert had by her enchantments raised such a terrible storm that the boldest pilot would not venture out in it, so she was not afraid of her prisoner’s being able to escape; and he found it some relief to think sadly over his terrible situation without being interrupted by his cruel captor.Presently, after walking wildly up and down, he wrote these verses upon the sand with his stick: “At last may I upon this shoreLighten my sorrow with soft tears.Alas! alas! I see no moreMy Love, who yet my sadness cheers. “And thou, O raging, stormy Sea,Stirred by wild winds, from depth to height,Thou hold’st my loved one far from me,And I am captive to thy might. “My heart is still more wild than thine,For Fate is cruel unto me.Why must I thus in exile pine?Why is my Princess snatched from me? “O! lovely Nymphs, from ocean caves,Who know how sweet true love may be,Come up and calm the furious wavesAnd set a desperate lover free!”While he was still writing he heard a voice which attracted his attention in spite of himself. Seeing that the waves were rolling in higher than ever, he looked all round, and presently saw a lovely lady floating gently toward him upon the crest of a huge billow, her long hair spread all about her; in one hand she held a mirror, and in the other a comb, and instead of feet she had a beautiful tail like a fish, with which she swam.The King was struck dumb with astonishment at this unexpected sight; but as soon as she came within speaking distance, she said to him, “I know how sad you are at losing your Princess and being kept a prisoner by the Fairy of the Desert; if you like I will help you to escape from this fatal place, where you may otherwise have to drag on a weary existence for thirty years or more.”The King of the Gold Mines hardly knew what answer to make to this proposal. Not because he did not wish very much to escape, but he was afraid that this might be only another device by which the Fairy of the Desert was trying to deceive him. As he hesitated the Mermaid, who guessed his thoughts, said to him:“You may trust me: I am not trying to entrap you. I am so angry with the Yellow Dwarf and the Fairy of the Desert that I am not likely to wish to help them, especially since I constantly see your poor Princess, whose beauty and goodness make me pity her so much; and I tell you that if you will have confidence in me I will help you to escape.”“I trust you absolutely,” cried the King, “and I will do whatever you tell me; but if you have seen my Princess I beg of you to tell me how she is and what is happening to her.“We must not waste time in talking,” said she. “Come with me and I will carry you to the Castle of Steel, and we will leave upon this shore a figure so like you that even the Fairy herself will be deceived by it.”So saying, she quickly collected a bundle of sea-weed, and, blowing it three times, she said:“My friendly sea-weeds, I order you to stay here stretched upon the sand until the Fairy of the Desert comes to take you away.” And at once the sea-weeds became like the King, who stood looking at them in great astonishment, for they were even dressed in a coat like his, but they lay there pale and still as the King himself might have lain if one of the great waves had overtaken him and thrown him senseless upon the shore. And then the Mermaid caught up the King, and away they swam joyfully together.“Now,” said she, “I have time to tell you about the Princess. In spite of the blow which the Fairy of the Desert gave her, the Yellow Dwarf compelled her to mount behind him upon his terrible Spanish cat; but she soon fainted away with pain and terror, and did not recover till they were within the walls of his frightful Castle of Steel. Here she was received by the prettiest girls it was possible to find, who had been carried there by the Yellow Dwarf, who hastened to wait upon her and showed her every possible attention. She was laid upon a couch covered with cloth of gold, embroidered with pearls as big as nuts.”“Ah!” interrupted the King of the Gold Mines, “if Bellissima forgets me, and consents to marry him, I shall break my heart.”“You need not be afraid of that,” answered the Mermaid, “the Princess thinks of no one but you, and the frightful Dwarf cannot persuade her to look at him.”“Pray go on with your story,” said the King.“What more is there to tell you?” replied the Mermaid. “Bellissima was sitting in the wood when you passed, and saw you with the Fairy of the Desert, who was so cleverly disguised that the Princess took her to be prettier than herself; you may imagine her despair, for she thought that you had fallen in love with her.”“She believes that I love her!” cried the King. “What a fatal mistake! What is to be done to undeceive her?”“You know best,” answered the Mermaid, smiling kindly at him. “When people are as much in love with one another as you two are, they don’t need advice from anyone else.”As she spoke they reached the Castle of Steel, the side next the sea being the only one which the Yellow Dwarf had left unprotected by the dreadful burning walls.“I know quite well,” said the Mermaid, “that the Princess is sitting by the brook-side, just where you saw her as you passed, but as you will have many enemies to fight with before you can reach her, take this sword; armed with it you may dare any danger, and overcome the greatest difficulties, only beware of one thing—that is, never to let it fall from your hand. Farewell; now I will wait by that rock, and if you need my help in carrying off your beloved Princess I will not fail you, for the Queen, her mother, is my best friend, and it was for her sake that I went to rescue you.”So saying, she gave to the King a sword made from a single diamond, which was more brilliant than the sun. He could not find words to express his gratitude, but he begged her to believe that he fully appreciated the importance of her gift, and would never forget her help and kindness.We must now go back to the Fairy of the Desert. When she found that the King did not return, she hastened out to look for him, and reached the shore, with a hundred of the ladies of her train, loaded with splendid presents for him. Some carried baskets full of diamonds, others golden cups of wonderful workmanship, and amber, coral, and pearls, others, again, balanced upon their heads bales of the richest and most beautiful stuffs, while the rest brought fruit and flowers, and even birds. But what was the horror of the Fairy, who followed this gay troop, when she saw, stretched upon the sands, the image of the King which the Mermaid had made with the sea-weeds. Struck with astonishment and sorrow, she uttered a terrible cry, and threw herself down beside the pretended King, weeping, and howling, and calling upon her eleven sisters, who were also fairies, and who came to her assistance. But they were all taken in by the image of the King, for, clever as they were, the Mermaid was still cleverer, and all they could do was to help the Fairy of the Desert to make a wonderful monument over what they thought was the grave of the King of the Gold Mines. But while they were collecting jasper and porphyry, agate and marble, gold and bronze, statues and devices, to immortalize the King’s memory, he was thanking the good Mermaid and begging her still to help him, which she graciously promised to do as she disappeared; and then he set out for the Castle of Steel. He walked fast, looking anxiously round him, and longing once more to see his darling Bellissima, but he had not gone far before he was surrounded by four terrible sphinxes who would very soon have torn him to pieces with their sharp talons if it had not been for the Mermaid’s diamond sword. For, no sooner had he flashed it before their eyes than down they fell at his feet quite helpless, and he killed them with one blow. But he had hardly turned to continue his search when he met six dragons covered with scales that were harder than iron. Frightful as this encounter was the King’s courage was unshaken, and by the aid of his wonderful sword he cut them in pieces one after the other. Now he hoped his difficulties were over, but at the next turning he was met by one which he did not know how to overcome. Four-and-twenty pretty and graceful nymphs advanced toward him, holding garlands of flowers, with which they barred the way.“Where are you going, Prince?” they said; “it is our duty to guard this place, and if we let you pass great misfortunes will happen to you and to us. We beg you not to insist upon going on. Do you want to kill four-and-twenty girls who have never displeased you in any way?”The King did not know what to do or to say. It went against all his ideas as a knight to do anything a lady begged him not to do; but, as he hesitated, a voice in his ear said:“Strike! strike! and do not spare, or your Princess is lost for ever!”So, without reply to the nymphs, he rushed forward instantly, breaking their garlands, and scattering them in all directions; and then went on without further hindrance to the little wood where he had seen Bellissima. She was seated by the brook looking pale and weary when he reached her, and he would have thrown himself down at her feet, but she drew herself away from him with as much indignation as if he had been the Yellow Dwarf.“Ah! Princess,” he cried, “do not be angry with me. Let me explain everything. I am not faithless or to blame for what has happened. I am a miserable wretch who has displeased you without being able to help himself.”“Ah!” cried Bellissima, “did I not see you flying through the air with the loveliest being imaginable? Was that against your will?”“Indeed it was, Princess,” he answered; “the wicked Fairy of the Desert, not content with chaining me to a rock, carried me off in her chariot to the other end of the earth, where I should even now be a captive but for the unexpected help of a friendly mermaid, who brought me here to rescue you, my Princess, from the unworthy hands that hold you. Do not refuse the aid of your most faithful lover.” So saying, he threw himself at her feet and held her by her robe. But, alas! in so doing he let fall the magic sword, and the Yellow Dwarf, who was crouching behind a lettuce, no sooner saw it than he sprang out and seized it, well knowing its wonderful power.The Princess gave a cry of terror on seeing the Dwarf, but this only irritated the little monster; muttering a few magical words he summoned two giants, who bound the King with great chains of iron.“Now,” said the Dwarf, “I am master of my rival’s fate, but I will give him his life and permission to depart unharmed if you, Princess, will consent to marry me.”“Let me die a thousand times rather,” cried the unhappy King.“Alas!” cried the Princess, “must you die? Could anything be more terrible?”“That you should marry that little wretch would be far more terrible,” answered the King.“At least,” continued she, “let us die together.”“Let me have the satisfaction of dying for you, my Princess,” said he.“Oh, no, no!” she cried, turning to the Dwarf; “rather than that I will do as you wish.”“Cruel Princess!” said the King, “would you make my life horrible to me by marrying another before my eyes?”“Not so,” replied the Yellow Dwarf; “you are a rival of whom I am too much afraid; you shall not see our marriage.” So saying, in spite of Bellissima’s tears and cries, he stabbed the King to the heart with the diamond sword.The poor Princess, seeing her lover lying dead at her feet, could no longer live without him; she sank down by him and died of a broken heart.So ended these unfortunate lovers, whom not even the Mermaid could help, because all the magic power had been lost with the diamond sword.As to the wicked Dwarf, he preferred to see the Princess dead rather than married to the King of the Gold Mines; and the Fairy of the Desert, when she heard of the King’s adventures, pulled down the grand monument which she had built, and was so angry at the trick that had been played her that she hated him as much as she had loved him before.The kind Mermaid, grieved at the sad fate of the lovers, caused them to be changed into two tall palm trees, which stand always side by side, whispering together of their faithful love and caressing one another with their interlacing branches
There was once a minister who spent his whole time in trying to find a servant who would undertake to ring the church bells at midnight, in addition to all his other duties.Of course it was not everyone who cared to get up in the middle of the night, when he had been working hard all day; still, a good many had agreed to do it. But the strange thing was that no sooner had the servant set forth to perform his task than he disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed him up. No bells were rung, and no ringer ever came back. The minister did his best to keep the matter secret, but it leaked out for all that, and the end of it was that no one would enter his service. Indeed, there were even those who whispered that the minister himself had murdered the missing men!It was to no purpose that Sunday after Sunday the minister gave out from his pulpit that double wages would be paid to anyone that would fulfil the sacred duty of ringing the bells of the church. No one took the slightest notice of any offer he might make, and the poor man was in despair, when one day, as he was standing at his house door, a youth known in the village as Clever Hans came up to him. ‘I am tired of living with a miser who will not give me enough to eat and drink,’ said he, ‘and I am ready to do all you want.’ ‘Very good, my son,’ replied the minister, ‘you shall have the chance of proving your courage this very night. To-morrow we will settle what your wages are to be.’Hans was quite content with this proposal, and went straight into the kitchen to begin his work, not knowing that his new master was quite as stingy as his old one. In the hope that his presence might be a restraint upon them, the minister used to sit at the table during his servants’ meals, and would exhort them to drink much and often, thinking that they would not be able to eat as well, and beef was dearer than beer. But in Hans he had met his match, and the minister soon found to his cost that in his case at any rate a full cup did not mean an empty plate.About an hour before midnight, Hans entered the church and locked the door behind him, but what was his surprise when, in place of the darkness and silence he expected, he found the church brilliantly lighted, and a crowd of people sitting round a table playing cards. Hans felt no fear at this strange sight, or was prudent enough to hide it if he did, and, going up to the table, sat down amongst the players. One of them looked up and asked, ‘My friend, what are you doing here?’ and Hans gazed at him for a moment, then laughed and answered, ‘Well, if anybody has a right to put that question, it is I! And if _I_ do not put it, it will certainly be wiser for you not to do so!’Then he picked up some cards, and played with the unknown men as if he had known them all his life. The luck was on his side, and soon the money of the other gamblers found its way from their pockets into his. On the stroke of midnight the cock crew, and in an instant lights, table, cards, and people all had vanished, and Hans was left alone.He groped about for some time, till he found the staircase in the tower, and then began to feel his way up the steps.On the first landing a glimmer of light came through a slit in the wall, and he saw a tiny man sitting there, without a head. ‘Ho! ho! my little fellow, what are you doing there?’ asked Hans, and, without waiting for an answer, gave him a kick which sent him flying down the stairs. Then he climbed higher still, and finding as he went dumb watchers sitting on every landing, treated them as he had done the first.At last he reached the top, and as he paused for a moment to look round him he saw another headless man cowering in the very bell itself, waiting till Hans should seize the bell-pull in order to strike him a blow with the clapper, which would soon have made an end of him.‘Stop, my little friend!’ cried Hans. ‘That is not part of the bargain! Perhaps you saw how your comrades walked down stairs, and you are going after them. But as you are in the highest place you shall make a more dignified exit, and follow them through the window!’With these words he began to climb the ladder, in order to take the little man from the bell and carry out his threat.At this the dwarf cried out imploringly, ‘Oh, brother! spare my life, and I promise that neither I nor my comrades will ever trouble you any more. I am small and weak, but who knows whether some day I shall not be able to reward you.’‘You wretched little shrimp,’ replied Hans, ‘a great deal of good your gratitude is likely to do me! But as I happen to be feeling in a cheerful mood to-night I will let you have your life. But take care how you come across me again, or you may not escape so easily!’The headless man thanked him humbly, slid hastily down the bell rope, and ran down the steps of the tower as if he had left a fire behind him. Then Hans began to ring lustily.When the minister heard the sound of the midnight bells he wondered greatly, but rejoiced that he had at last found some one to whom he could trust this duty. Hans rang the bells for some time, then went to the hay-loft, and fell fast asleep.Now it was the custom of the minister to get up very early, and to go round to make sure that the men were all at their work. This morning everyone was in his place except Hans, and no one knew anything about him. Nine o’clock came, and no Hans, but when eleven struck the minister began to fear that he had vanished like the ringers who had gone before him. When, however, the servants all gathered round the table for dinner, Hans at last made his appearance stretching himself and yawning.‘Where have you been all this time?’ asked the minister.‘Asleep,’ said Hans.‘Asleep!’ exclaimed the minister in astonishment. ‘You don’t mean to tell me that you can go on sleeping till mid-day?’‘That is exactly what I do mean,’ replied Hans. ‘If one works in the night one must sleep in the day, just as if one works in the day one sleeps in the night. If you can find somebody else to ring the bells at midnight I am ready to begin work at dawn; but if you want me to ring them I must go on sleeping till noon at the very earliest.’The minister tried to argue the point with him, but at length the following agreement was come to. Hans was to give up the ringing, and was to work like the rest from sunrise to sunset, with the exception of an hour after breakfast and an hour after dinner, when he might go to sleep. ‘But, of course,’ added the minister carelessly, ‘it may happen now and then, especially in winter, when the days are short, that you will have to work a little longer, to get something finished.’‘Not at all!’ answered Hans. ‘Unless I were to leave off work earlier in summer, I will not do a stroke more than I have promised, and that is from dawn to dark; so you know what you have to expect.’A few weeks later the minister was asked to attend a christening in the neighbouring town. He bade Hans come with him, but, as the town was only a few hours’ ride from where he lived, the minister was much surprised to see Hans come forth laden with a bag containing food.‘What are you taking that for?’ asked the minister. ‘We shall be there before dark.’‘Who knows?’ replied Hans. ‘Many things may happen to delay our journey, and I need not remind you of our contract that the moment the sun sets I cease to be your servant. If we don’t reach the town while it is still daylight I shall leave you to shift for yourself.’The minister thought he was joking, and made no further remark. But when they had left the village behind them, and had ridden a few miles, they found that snow had fallen during the night, and had been blown by the wind into drifts. This hindered their progress, and by the time they had entered the thick wood which lay between them and their destination the sun was already touching the tops of the trees. The horses ploughed their way slowly through the deep soft snow and as they went Hans kept turning to look at the sun, which lay at their backs.‘Is there anything behind you?’ asked the minister. ‘Or what is it you are always turning round for?’‘I turn round because I have no eyes in the back of my neck,’ said Hans.‘Cease talking nonsense,’ replied the minister, ‘and give all your mind to getting us to the town before nightfall.’Hans did not answer, but rode on steadily, though every now and then he cast a glance over his shoulder.When they arrived in the middle of the wood the sun sank altogether. Then Hans reined up his horse, took his knapsack, and jumped out of the sledge.‘What are you doing? Are you mad?’ asked the minister, but Hans answered quietly, ‘The sun is set and my work is over, and I am going to camp here for the night.’In vain the master prayed and threatened, and promised Hans a large reward if he would only drive him on. The young man was not to be moved.‘Are you not ashamed to urge me to break my word?’ said he. ‘If you want to reach the town to-night you must go alone. The hour of my freedom has struck, and I cannot go with you.’‘My good Hans,’ entreated the minister, ‘I really ought not to leave you here. Consider what danger you would be in! Yonder, as you see, a gallows is set up, and two evil-doers are hanging on it. You could not possibly sleep with such ghastly neighbours.’‘Why not?’ asked Hans. ‘Those gallows birds hang high in the air, and my camp will be on the ground; we shall have nothing to do with each other.’ As he spoke, he turned his back on the minister, and went his way.There was no help for it, and the minister had to push on by himself, if he expected to arrive in time for the christening. His friends were much surprised to see him drive up without a coachman, and thought some accident had happened. But when he told them of his conversation with Hans they did not know which was the most foolish, master or man.It would have mattered little to Hans had he known what they were saying or thinking of him. He satisfied his hunger with the food he had in his knapsack, lit his pipe, pitched his tent under the boughs of a tree, wrapped himself in his furs, and went sound asleep. After some hours, he was awakened by a sudden noise, and sat up and looked about him. The moon was shining brightly above his head, and close by stood two headless dwarfs, talking angrily. At the sight of Hans the little dwarfs cried out:‘It is he! It is he!’ and one of them stepping nearer exclaimed, ‘Ah, my old friend! it is a lucky chance that has brought us here. My bones still ache from my fall down the steps of the tower. I dare say you have not forgotten that night! Now it is the turn of your bones. Hi! comrades, make haste! make haste!’Like a swarm of midges, a host of tiny headless creatures seemed to spring straight out of the ground, and every one was armed with a club. Although they were so small, yet there were such numbers of them and they struck so hard that even a strong man could do nothing against them. Hans thought his last hour was come, when just as the fight was at the hottest another little dwarf arrived on the scene.‘Hold, comrades!’ he shouted, turning to the attacking party. ‘This man once did me a service, and I am his debtor. When I was in his power he granted me my life. And even if he did throw you downstairs, well, a warm bath soon cured your bruises, so you must just forgive him and go quietly home.’The headless dwarfs listened to his words and disappeared as suddenly as they had come. As soon as Hans recovered himself a little he looked at his rescuer, and saw he was the dwarf he had found seated in the church bell.‘Ah!’ said the dwarf, seating himself quietly under the tree. ‘You laughed at me when I told you that some day I might do you a good turn. Now you see I was right, and perhaps you will learn for the future not to despise any creature, however small.’‘I thank you from my heart,’ answered Hans. ‘My bones are still sore from their blows, and had it not been for you I should indeed have fared badly.’‘I have almost paid my debt,’ went on the little man, ‘but as you have suffered already, I will do more, and give you a piece of information. You need not remain any longer in the service of that stingy minister, but when you get home to-morrow go at once to the north corner of the church, and there you will find a large stone built into the wall, but not cemented like the rest. The day after to-morrow the moon is full, and at midnight you must go to the spot and get the stone out of the wall with a pickaxe. Under the stone lies a great treasure, which has been hidden there in time of war. Besides church plate, you will find bags of money, which have been lying in this place for over a hundred years, and no one knows to whom it all belongs. A third of this money you must give to the poor, but the rest you may keep for yourself.’ As he finished, the cocks in the village crowed, and the little man was nowhere to be seen. Hans found that his limbs no longer pained him, and lay for some time thinking of the hidden treasure. Towards morning he fell asleep.The sun was high in the heavens when his master returned from the town.‘Hans,’ said he, ‘what a fool you were not to come with me yesterday! I was well feasted and entertained, and I have money in my pocket into the bargain,’ he went on, rattling some coins while he spoke, to make Hans understand how much he had lost.‘Ah, sir,’ replied Hans calmly, ‘in order to have gained so much money you must have lain awake all night, but I have earned a hundred times that amount while I was sleeping soundly.’‘How did you manage that?’ asked the minister eagerly, but Hans answered, ‘It is only fools who boast of their farthings; wise men take care to hide their crowns.’They drove home, and Hans neglected none of his duties, but put up the horses and gave them their food before going to the church corner, where he found the loose stone, exactly in the place described by the dwarf. Then he returned to his work.The first night of the full moon, when the whole village was asleep, he stole out, armed with a pickaxe, and with much difficulty succeeded in dislodging the stone from its place. Sure enough, there was the hole, and in the hole lay the treasure, exactly as the little man had said.The following Sunday he handed over the third part to the village poor, and informed the minister that he wished to break his bond of service. As, however, he did not claim any wages, the minister made no objections, but allowed him to do as he wished. So Hans went his way, bought himself a large house, and married a young wife, and lived happily and prosperously to the end of his days.
Long, long, ago, when the oldest stork was young, there lived an aged woodcutter and his son on the slopes of the mountain Tagi, in the province of Mino. They gained a frugal livelihood by cutting brushwood on the hill-side, and carrying it in bundles on their back to sell in the nearest market town; for they were too poor to own an ox. With the money thus received they bought rice and radishes, their daily food.Only once or twice a year, at New Year’s and on the mikado’s birthday, could they afford to treat themselves to a mess of bean-curd or fresh fish. Yet the old man was very fond of rice-wine, and every week bought a gourd full to keep his old blood warm.As the years rolled on the aged father’s limbs became so stiff that he was unable any longer to climb the mountains. So his son, now grown to be a sturdy man, cut nearly double the quantity of wood and thus kept the family larder full. The old man was so proud of his son that he daily stood at sunset in front of his rustic gate to welcome him back. And to see the old daddy and the young stripling remove their headkerchiefs, and bow with hands on knees in polite fashion, bending their backs and sucking in their breath, out of respect to each other, and to hear them inquiring after one another’s health, showering mutual compliments all the time, one would have thought they had not seen each other for eight years, instead of eight hours.One winter the snow fell long and thick, until all the ground in field and forest was covered several feet over. The bamboo branches bent with their weight of white, the pine boughs broke under their load, and even the stone idols along the wayside were covered up. At first, even with the hardest work, the young woodcutter could scarcely get and sell wood to buy enough food to keep them both alive. He often went hungry himself, so that his father might have his warm wine.One day he went by another path up one of the mountain dells with his rope basket strapped to his back, and the empty gourd-bottle at his belt. While gloomily grieving over his hard luck, the faint odor of rice-wine seemed borne on the breeze.He snuffed the air. It was no mistake. “Here’s luck, surely,” said he, throwing down his bundle.Hurrying forward he saw a foaming waterfall tumbling over the rocks in a thick stream.As he drew near, some of the spray fell on his tongue. He tasted it, smacked his lips and throwing down his cord and basket to the ground, filled his gourd and hastened home to his father.Every day, till the end of his father’s life, did he come to this wonderful cascade of wine, and thus the old man was nourished for many a long year.The news of this fountain of youth spread abroad until it reached the court. The mikado, hearing of it, made a journey to Mino to see the wonderful waterfall. In honor of this event, and as a reward of filial piety, the name of the year-period was changed to Yoro, (Nourishing Old Age).To this day, many people young and old go out to enjoy picnic parties at the foot of the waterfall; which now, however, runs honest water only, which makes the cheeks red; and not the wonderful wine that once tipped the old daddy’s nose with perpetual vermilion.
The quiet town of Orrington, in Maine, was founded by Jesse Atwood, of Wellfleet, Cape Cod, in 1778, and has become known, since then, as a place where skilful farmers and brave sailors could always be found. It also kept Maine supplied for years with oldest inhabitants. It is said that the name was an accident of illiteracy, and that it is the only place in the world that owes its title to bad spelling. The settlers who followed Atwood there were numerous enough to form a township after ten years, and the name they decided on for their commonwealth was Orangetown, so called for a village in Maryland where some of the people had associations, but the clerk of the town meeting was not a college graduate and his spelling of Orange was Orring, and of town, ton. His draft of the resolutions went before the legislature, and the people directly afterward found themselves living in Orrington.
A Bat, a Bramble, and a Seagull went into partnership and determined to go on a trading voyage together. The Bat borrowed a sum of money for his venture; the Bramble laid in a stock of clothes of various kinds; and the Seagull took a quantity of lead: and so they set out. By and by a great storm came on, and their boat with all the cargo went to the bottom, but the three travellers managed to reach land. Ever since then the Seagull flies to and fro over the sea, and every now and then dives below the surface, looking for the lead he’s lost; while the Bat is so afraid of meeting his creditors that he hides away by day and only comes out at night to feed; and the Bramble catches hold of the clothes of every one who passes by, hoping some day to recognise and recover the lost garments.All men are more concerned to recover what they lose than to acquire what they lack.
The Wise Poet sat reading by the light of his taper. It was a night of the seventh month. The cicala sang in the flower of the pomegranate, the frog sang by the pond. The moon was out and all the stars, the air was heavy and sweet-scented. But the Poet was not happy, for moths came by the score to the light of his taper; not moths only, but cockchafers and dragon-flies with their wings rainbow-tinted. One and all they came upon the Fire Quest; one and all they burned their bright wings in the flame and so died. And the Poet was grieved.“Little harmless children of the night,” he said, “why will you still fly upon the Fire Quest? Never, never can you attain, yet you strive and die. Foolish ones, have you never heard the story of the Firefly Queen?”The moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies fluttered about the taper and paid him no heed.“They have never heard it,” said the Poet; “yet it is old enough. Listen:“The Firefly Queen was the brightest and most beautiful of small things that fly. She dwelt in the heart of a rosy lotus. The lotus grew on a still lake, and it swayed to and fro upon the lake’s bosom while the Firefly Queen slept within. It was like the reflection of a star in the water.“You must know, oh, little children of the night, that the Firefly Queen had many suitors. Moths and cockchafers and dragon-flies innumerable flew to the lotus on the lake. And their hearts were filled with passionate love. ‘Have pity, have pity,’ they cried, ‘Queen of the Fireflies, Bright Light of the Lake.’ But the Firefly Queen sat and smiled and shone. It seemed that she was not sensible of the incense of love that arose about her.“At last she said, ‘Oh, you lovers, one and all, what make you here idly, cumbering my lotus house? Prove your love, if you love me indeed. Go, you lovers, and bring me fire, and then I will answer.’“Then, oh, little children of the night, there was a swift whirr of wings, for the moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies innumerable swiftly departed upon the Fire Quest. But the Firefly Queen laughed. Afterwards I will tell you the reason of her laughter.“So the lovers flew here and there in the still night, taking with them their desire. They found lighted lattices ajar and entered forthwith. In one chamber there was a girl who took a love-letter from her pillow and read it in tears, by the light of a taper. In another a woman sat holding the light close to a mirror, where she looked and painted her face. A great white moth put out the trembling candle-flame with his wings.“‘Alack! I am afraid,’ shrieked the woman; ‘the horrible dark!’“In another place there lay a man dying. He said, ‘For pity’s sake light me the lamp, for the black night falls.’“‘We have lighted it,’ they said, ‘long since. It is close beside you, and a legion of moths and dragon-flies flutter about it.’“‘I cannot see anything at all,’ murmured the man.“But those that flew on the Fire Quest burnt their frail wings in the fire. In the morning they lay dead by the hundred and were swept away and forgotten.“The Firefly Queen was safe in her lotus bower with her beloved, who was as bright as she, for he was a great lord of the Fireflies. No need had he to go upon the Fire Quest. He carried the living flame beneath his wings.“Thus the Firefly Queen deceived her lovers, and therefore she laughed when she sent them from her on a vain adventure.”“Be not deceived,” cried the Wise Poet, “oh, little children of the night. The Firefly Queen is always the same. Give over the Fire Quest.”But the moths and the cockchafers and the dragon-flies paid no heed to the words of the Wise Poet. Still they fluttered about his taper, and they burnt their bright wings in the flame and so died.Presently the Poet blew out the light. “I must needs sit in the dark,” he said; “it is the only way.”
When the young king of Easaidh Ruadh came into his kingdom, the first thing he thought of was how he could amuse himself best. The sports that all his life had pleased him best suddenly seemed to have grown dull, and he wanted to do something he had never done before. At last his face brightened.‘I know!’ he said. ‘I will go and play a game with the Gruagach.’ Now the Gruagach was a kind of wicked fairy, with long curly brown hair, and his house was not very far from the king’s house.But though the king was young and eager, he was also prudent, and his father had told him on his deathbed to be very careful in his dealings with the ‘good people,’ as the fairies were called. Therefore before going to the Gruagach the king sought out a wise man of the countryside.‘I am wanting to play a game with the curly-haired Gruagach,’ said he.‘Are you, indeed?’ replied the wizard. ‘If you will take my counsel, you will play with someone else.’‘No; I will play with the Gruagach,’ persisted the king.‘Well, if you must, you must, I suppose,’ answered the wizard; ‘but if you win that game, ask as a prize the ugly crop-headed girl that stands behind the door.’‘I will,’ said the king.So before the sun rose he got up and went to the house of the Gruagach, who was sitting outside.‘O king, what has brought you here to-day?’ asked the Gruagach. ‘But right welcome you are, and more welcome will you be still if you will play a game with me.’‘That is just what I want,’ said the king, and they played; and sometimes it seemed as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in the end it was the king who was the winner.‘And what is the prize that you will choose?’ inquired the Gruagach.‘The ugly crop-headed girl that stands behind the door,’ replied the king.‘Why, there are twenty others in the house, and each fairer than she!’ exclaimed the Gruagach.‘Fairer they may be, but it is she whom I wish for my wife, and none other,’ and the Gruagach saw that the king’s mind was set upon her, so he entered his house, and bade all the maidens in it come out one by one, and pass before the king.One by one they came; tall and short, dark and fair, plump and thin, and each said ‘I am she whom you want. You will be foolish indeed if you do not take me.’But he took none of them, neither short nor tall, dark nor fair, plump nor thin, till at the last the crop-headed girl came out.“When she stood upright, all of her ugliness had gone.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Lilac Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1910), Longmans, Green and Company.‘This is mine,’ said the king, though she was so ugly that most men would have turned from her. ‘We will be married at once, and I will carry you home.’ And married they were, and they set forth across a meadow to the king’s house. As they went, the bride stooped and picked a sprig of shamrock, which grew amongst the grass, and when she stood upright again her ugliness had all gone, and the most beautiful woman that ever was seen stood by the king’s side.The next day, before the sun rose, the king sprang from his bed, and told his wife he must have another game with the Gruagach.‘If my father loses that game, and you win it,’ said she, ‘accept nothing for your prize but the shaggy young horse with the stick saddle.’‘I will do that,’ answered the king, and he went.‘Does your bride please you?’ asked the Gruagach, who was standing at his own door.‘Ah! does she not!’ answered the king quickly. ‘Otherwise I should be hard indeed to please. But will you play a game to- day?’‘I will,’ replied the Gruagach, and they played, and sometimes it seemed as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in the end the king was the winner.‘What is the prize that you will choose?’ asked the Gruagach.‘The shaggy young horse with the stick saddle,’ answered the king, but he noticed that the Gruagach held his peace, and his brow was dark as he led out the horse from the stable. Rough was its mane and dull was its skin, but the king cared nothing for that, and throwing his leg over the stick saddle, rode away like the wind.On the third morning the king got up as usual before dawn, and as soon as he had eaten food he prepared to go out, when his wife stopped him. ‘I would rather,’ she said, ‘that you did not go to play with the Gruagach, for though twice you have won yet some day he will win, and then he will put trouble upon you.’‘Oh! I must have one more game,’ cried the king; ‘just this one.’ And he went off to the house of the Gruagach.Joy filled the heart of the Gruagach when he saw him coming, and without waiting to talk they played their game. Somehow or other, the king’s strength and skill had departed from him, and soon the Gruagach was the victor.‘Choose your prize,’ said the king, when the game was ended, ‘but do not be too hard on me, or ask what I cannot give.’‘The prize I choose,’ answered the Gruagach, ‘is that the crop- headed creature should take thy head and thy neck, if thou dost not get for me the Sword of Light that hangs in the house of the king of the oak windows.’‘I will get it,’ replied the young man bravely; but as soon as he was out of sight of the Gruagach he pretended no more, and his face grew dark and his steps lagging.‘You have brought nothing with you to-night,’ said the queen, who was standing on the steps awaiting him. She was so beautiful that the king was fain to smile when he looked at her, but then he remembered what had happened, and his heart grew heavy again.‘What is it? What is the matter? Tell me thy sorrow that I may bear it with thee, or, it may be, help thee!’ Then the king told her everything that had befallen him, and she stroked his hair the while.‘That is nothing to grieve about,’ she said when the tale was finished. ‘You have the best wife in Erin, and the best horse in Erin. Only do as I bid you, and all will go well.’ And the king suffered himself to be comforted.He was still sleeping when the queen rose and dressed herself, to make everything ready for her husband’s journey; and the first place she went to was the stable, where she fed and watered the shaggy brown horse and put the saddle on it. Most people thought this saddle was of wood, and did not see the little sparkles of gold and silver that were hidden in it. She strapped it lightly on the horse’s back, and then led it down before the house, where the king waited.‘Good luck to you, and victories in all your battles,’ she said, as she kissed him before he mounted. ‘I need not be telling you anything. Take the advice of the horse, and see you obey it.’So he waved his hand and set out on his journey, and the wind was not swifter than the brown horse–no, not even the March wind which raced it and could not catch it. But the horse never stopped nor looked behind, till in the dark of the night he reached the castle of the king of the oak windows.‘We are at the end of the journey,’ said the horse, ‘and you will find the Sword of Light in the king’s own chamber. If it comes to you without scrape or sound, the token is a good one. At this hour the king is eating his supper, and the room is empty, so none will see you. The sword has a knob at the end, and take heed that when you grasp it, you draw it softly out of its sheath. Now go! I will be under the window.’Stealthily the young man crept along the passage, pausing now and then to make sure that no man was following him, and entered the king’s chamber. A strange white line of light told him where the sword was, and crossing the room on tiptoe, he seized the knob, and drew it slowly out of the sheath. The king could hardly breathe with excitement lest it should make some noise, and bring all the people in the castle running to see what was the matter. But the sword slid swiftly and silently along the case till only the point was left touching it. Then a low sound was heard, as of the edge of a knife touching a silver plate, and the king was so startled that he nearly dropped the knob.‘Quick! quick!’ cried the horse, and the king scrambled hastily through the small window, and leapt into the saddle.‘He has heard and he will follow,’ said the horse; ‘but we have a good start,’ And on they sped, on and on, leaving the winds behind them.At length the horse slackened its pace. ‘Look and see who is behind you,’ it said; and the young man looked.‘I see a swarm of brown horses racing madly after us,’ he answered.‘We are swifter than those,’ said the horse, and flew on again.‘Look again, O king! Is anyone coming now?’‘A swarm of black horses, and one has a white face, and on that horse a man is seated. He is the king of the oak windows.’‘That is my brother, and swifter still than I,’ said the horse, ‘and he will fly past me with a rush. Then you must have your sword ready, and take off the head of the man who sits on him, as he turns and looks at you. And there is no sword in the world that will cut off his head, save only that one.’‘I will do it,’ replied the king; and he listened with all his might, till he judged that the white-faced horse was close to him. Then he sat up very straight and made ready.The next moment there was a rushing noise as of a mighty tempest, and the young man caught a glimpse of a face turned towards him. Almost blindly he struck, not knowing whether he had killed or only wounded the rider. But the head rolled off, and was caught in the brown horse’s mouth.‘Jump on my brother, the black horse, and go home as fast as you can, and I will follow as quickly as I may,’ cried the brown horse; and leaping forward the king alighted on the back of the black horse, but so near the tail that he almost fell off again. But he stretched out his arm and clutched wildly at the mane and pulled himself into the saddle.Before the sky was streaked with red he was at home again, and the queen was sitting waiting till he arrived, for sleep was far from her eyes. Glad was she to see him enter, but she said little, only took her harp and sang softly the songs which he loved, till he went to bed, soothed and happy.It was broad day when he woke, and he sprang up saying:‘Now I must go to the Gruagach, to find out if the spells he laid on me are loose.’‘Have a care,’ answered the queen, ‘for it is not with a smile as on the other days that he will greet you. Furiously he will meet you, and will ask you in his wrath if you have got the sword, and you will reply that you have got it. Next he will want to know how you got it, and to this you must say that but for the knob you had not got it at all. Then he will raise his head to look at the knob, and you must stab him in the mole which is on the right side of his neck; but take heed, for if you miss the mole with the point of the sword, then my death and your death are certain. He is brother to the king of the oak windows, and sure will he be that the king must be head, or the sword would not be in your hands.’ After that she kissed him, and bade him good speed.‘Didst thou get the sword?’ asked the Gruagach, when they met in the usual place.‘I got the sword.’‘And how didst thou get it?’‘If it had not had a knob on the top, then I had not got it,’ answered the king.‘Give me the sword to look at,’ said the Gruagach, peering forward; but like a flash the king had drawn it from under his nose and pierced the mole, so that the Gruagach rolled over on the ground.‘Now I shall be at peace,’ thought the king. But he was wrong, for when he reached home he found his servants tied together back to back with cloths bound round their mouths, so that they could not speak. He hastened to set them free, and he asked who had treated them in so evil a manner.‘No sooner had you gone than a great giant came, and dealt with us as you see, and carried off your wife and your two horses,’ said the men.‘Then my eyes will not close nor will my head lay itself down till I fetch my wife and horses home again,’ answered he, and he stopped and noted the tracks of the horses on the grass, and followed after them till he arrived at the wood, when the darkness fell.‘I will sleep here,’ he said to himself, ‘but first I will make a fire,’ And he gathered together some twigs that were lying about, and then took two dry sticks and rubbed them together till the fire came, and he sat by it.The twigs cracked and the flame blazed up, and a slim yellow dog pushed through the bushes and laid his head on the king’s knee, and the king stroked his head.‘Wuf, wuf,’ said the dog. ‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when the giant drove them last night through the forest.’‘That is why I have come,’ answered the king; and suddenly his heart seemed to fail him and he felt that he could not go on.‘I cannot fight that giant,’ he cried, looking at the dog with a white face. ‘I am afraid, let me turn homewards.’‘No, don’t do that,’ replied the dog. ‘Eat and sleep, and I will watch over you.’ So the king ate and lay down, and slept till the sun waked him.‘It is time for you to start on your way,’ said the dog, ‘and if danger presses, call on me, and I will help you.’‘Farewell, then,’ answered the king; ‘I will not forget that promise,’ and on he went, and on, and on, till he reached a tall cliff with many sticks lying about.‘It is almost night,’ he thought; ‘I will make a fire and rest,’ and thus he did, and when the flames blazed up, the hoary hawk of the grey rock flew on to a bough above him.‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed here with the giant,’ said the hawk.‘Never shall I find them,’ answered the king, ‘and nothing shall I get for all my trouble.’‘Oh, take heart,’ replied the hawk; ‘things are never so bad but what they might be worse. Eat and sleep and I will watch thee,’ and the king did as he was bidden by the hawk, and by the morning he felt brave again.‘Farewell,’ said the bird, ‘and if danger presses call to me, and I will help you.’On he walked, and on and on, till as dusk was falling he came to a great river, and on the bank there were sticks lying about.‘I will make myself a fire,’ he thought, and thus he did, and by and bye a smooth brown head peered at him from the water, and a long body followed it.‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed the river last night,’ said the otter.‘I have sought them and not found them,’ answered the king, ‘and nought shall I get for my trouble.’‘Be not so downcast,’ replied the otter; ‘before noon to-morrow thou shalt behold thy wife. But eat and sleep and I will watch over thee.’ So the king did as the otter bid him, and when the sun rose he woke and saw the otter lying on the bank.‘Farewell,’ cried the otter as he jumped into the water, ‘and if danger presses, call to me and I will help you.’For many hours the king walked, and at length he reached a high rock, which was rent into two by a great earthquake. Throwing himself on the ground he looked over the side, and right at the very bottom he saw his wife and his horses. His heart gave a great bound, and all his fears left him, but he was forced to be patient, for the sides of the rock were smooth, and not even a goat could find foothold. So he got up again, and made his way round through the wood, pushing by trees, scrambling over rocks, wading through streams, till at last he was on flat ground again, close to the mouth of the cavern.His wife gave a shriek of joy when he came in, and then burst into tears, for she was tired and very frightened. But her husband did not understand why she wept, and he was tired and bruised from his climb, and a little cross too.‘You give me but a sorry welcome,’ grumbled he, ‘when I have half-killed myself to get to you.’‘Do not heed him,’ said the horses to the weeping woman; ‘put him in front of us, where he will be safe, and give him food, for he is weary.’ And she did as the horses told her, and he ate and rested, till by and bye a long shadow fell over them, and their hearts beat with fear, for they knew that the giant was coming.‘I smell a stranger,’ cried the giant, as he entered; but it was dark inside the chasm, and he did not see the king, who was crouching down between the feet of the horses.‘A stranger, my lord! no stranger ever comes here, not even the sun!’ and the king’s wife laughed gaily as she went up to the giant and stroked the huge hand which hung down by his side.‘Well, I perceive nothing, certainly,’ answered he, ‘but it is very odd. However, it is time that the horses were fed;’ and he lifted down an armful of hay from a shelf of rock and held out a handful to each animal, who moved forward to meet him, leaving the king behind. As soon as the giant’s hands were near their mouths they each made a snap, and began to bit them, so that his groans and shrieks might have been heard a mile off. Then they wheeled round and kicked him till they could kick no more. At length the giant crawled away, and lay quivering in a corner, and the queen went up to him.‘Poor thing! poor thing!’ she said, ‘they seem to have gone mad; it was awful to behold.’‘If I had had my soul in my body they would certainly have killed me,’ groaned the giant.‘It was lucky indeed,’ answered the queen; ‘but tell me, where is thy soul, that I may take care of it?’‘Up there, in the Bonnach stone,’ answered the giant, pointing to a stone which was balanced loosely on an edge of rock. ‘But now leave me, that I may sleep, for I have far to go to-morrow.’Soon snores were heard from the corner where the giant lay, and then the queen lay down too, and the horses, and the king was hidden between them, so that none could see him.Before the dawn the giant rose and went out, and immediately the queen ran up to the Bonnach stone, and tugged and pushed at it till it was quite steady on its ledge, and could not fall over. And so it was in the evening when the giant came home; and when they saw his shadow, the king crept down in front of the horses.‘Why, what have you done to the Bonnach stone?’ asked the giant.‘I feared lest it should fall over, and be broken, with your soul in it,’ said the queen, ‘so I put it further back on the ledge.’‘It is not there that my soul is,’ answered he, ‘it is on the threshold. But it is time the horses were fed;’ and he fetched the hay, and gave it to them, and they bit and kicked him as before, till he lay half dead on the ground.Next morning he rose and went out, and the queen ran to the threshold of the cave, and washed the stones, and pulled up some moss and little flowers that were hidden in the crannies, and by and bye when dusk had fallen the giant came home.‘You have been cleaning the threshold,’ said he.‘And was I not right to do it, seeing that your soul is in it?’ asked the queen.‘It is not there that my soul is,’ answered the giant. ‘Under the threshold is a stone, and under the stone is a sheep, and in the sheep’s body is a duck, and in the duck is an egg, and in the egg is my soul. But it is late, and I must feed the horses;’ and he brought them the hay, but they only bit and kicked him as before, and if his soul had been within him, they would have killed him outright.It was still dark when the giant got up and went his way, and then the king and the queen ran forward to take up the threshold, while the horses looked on. But sure enough! just as the giant had said, underneath the threshold was the flagstone, and they pulled and tugged till the stone gave way. Then something jumped out so suddenly, that it nearly knocked them down, and as it fled past, they saw it was a sheep.‘If the slim yellow dog of the greenwood were only here, he would soon have that sheep,’ cried the king; and as he spoke, the slim yellow dog appeared from the forest, with the sheep in his mouth. With a blow from the king, the sheep fell dead, and they opened its body, only to be blinded by a rush of wings as the duck flew past.‘If the hoary hawk of the rock were only here, he would soon have that duck,’ cried the king; and as he spoke the hoary hawk was seen hovering above them, with the duck in his mouth. They cut off the duck’s head with a swing of the king’s sword, and took the egg out of its body, but in his triumph the king held it carelessly, and it slipped from his hand, and rolled swiftly down the hill right into the river.‘If the brown otter of the stream were only here, he would soon have that egg,’ cried the king; and the next minute there was the brown otter, dripping with water, holding the egg in his mouth. But beside the brown otter, a huge shadow came stealing along– the shadow of the giant.The king stood staring at it, as if he were turned into stone, but the queen snatched the egg from the otter and crushed it between her two hands. And after that the shadow suddenly shrank and was still, and they knew that the giant was dead, because they had found his soul.Next day they mounted the two horses and rode home again, visiting their friends the brown otter and the hoary hawk and the slim yellow dog by the way.
In those far-off days, before Glooskap, the mighty Magician, set sail in his stone canoe for the Land of the Red Sunrise, there were Fairies and Elves living in the green forests of the Wabanaki. Very wonderful was the music they made on magic flutes of reed, and with their melody they could charm men and beasts.When these Fairies were pleased with an Indian brave they gave him a magic flute. And if they grew to love him, they made him a Fairy like themselves, and called him a Mikumwess.Now, in those far-off days there dwelt two youths in a village of the Wabanaki. One, whose name was Little Thunder, was full of laughter and song, and wished greatly to meet the Fairies and be made a Mikumwess.The other youth, who was called the Badger, loved Brown Fawn, the beautiful daughter of a great Chief. The Badger wished to have her for his wife, but he heard that her father was a cruel  man, and set such difficult tasks for his daughter’s suitors, that they all perished in attempting them.One day a Loon came to the village of the Wabanaki where dwelt these two young men. It was Glooskap’s messenger, and it said that the mighty Magician had promised to grant one wish to each Indian youth who would seek his magic lodge.When Little Thunder and the Badger heard this, they decked themselves with their choicest feathers, and, armed with strong bows and arrows, they set out along the trail that led to Glooskap’s lodge. Dangerous was this trail, and filled with terrors, but the two hastened bravely on, overcoming all in their way.For seven years they travelled, until at last they reached the lodge. Glooskap, smiling, welcomed them, and Martin the Fairy set food and drink before them. Then Glooskap asked what they most desired.“Make me a Mikumwess,” said Little Thunder, “then I may help my brother the Badger to win his bride.”“All I desire is to win Brown Fawn for my wife,” replied the Badger, “for I am lonely in my lodge.”Then Glooskap smiled again, and he wove a magic hair-string in Little Thunder’s locks, and the young man became a Mikumwess endowed with Fairy power. After this Glooskap gave him a magic flute of reed so that he might charm all living things.But to the Badger, Glooskap, said: “The maiden is yours to win with the aid of this Mikumwess. Enter my stone canoe, and sail over the seas, to the lodge of her father. Only return the canoe to me when your adventure is over, for never before did I lend it to any man.”Then Glooskap took the two youths to the seashore, and pointed to a small island of granite against which the foaming waves were beating. It was covered with high Pines around whose tops flew many white Gulls. “There is my canoe,” said he. “Swim thither and enter it.”So the two young men threw themselves into the water, and swam out to the island. As soon as they stepped on its rocks, the island turned into a large stone canoe, and the Pine Trees became high masts.Rejoicing, the Mikumwess and the Badger sailed away across the seas. They sailed for many days until at last they reached the land where was the village of the cruel Chief.They drew the stone canoe up on the beach, and hid it under some bushes. Then they entered the village and sought the lodge of the Chief. He welcomed them gravely, and placed them in the seat of honour. After which he asked them what was their errand.The Mikumwess answered: “This, my brother the Badger, is tired of living alone. Give him Brown Fawn to follow him to his lodge.”“Brown Fawn may go with him,” answered the Chief courteously, “if to-morrow he brings me the head of the Yellow Horned Serpent that dwells in the great cave by the sea.”To this the young men agreed, and were given a lodge to sleep in.When the night was very dark, the Mikumwess arose, and, leaving the Badger asleep, went alone to the great cave by the sea. Across its entrance he laid a log, and then began to dance a magic dance before it, playing on his Fairy flute.“When the Yellow Horned Serpent heard the strange music, he was charmed.” Illustration by Frederick Richardson, published in The Red Indian Fairy Book by Frances Jenkins Olcott (1917), Houghton and Mifflin Company.When the Yellow Horned Serpent heard the strange music, he was charmed, and came creeping out, waving his head from side to side. Then he rested his head on the log, and the Mikumwess quickly cut it off with his hatchet.Taking the head by one of its shiny yellow horns, he carried it to the Badger. And when morning was come, the two bore the head and laid it before the Chief.And when the old man saw it, he was astonished and thought to himself, “I fear I shall lose my child!”But he said to the Badger, “Young man, if you wish to win your wife, you must coast down yonder hill with two of my bravest warriors.”Soon the Badger went whirling from his sled and fell on the ice, and the Magicians shouted with delight; but they did not know that the Mikumwess had done this so that he might get the Magicians’ sled in front of him.The Mikumwess turned aside, and, putting out his hand, drew the Badger on the sled, and as he did so, the Magicians shot by, mocking loudly. Then the Mikumwess’s sled suddenly bounded into the air and flew over the heads of the Magicians, nor did it stop at the foot of the mountain, but sped up the hill opposite and struck the side of the Chief’s lodge, ripping it from end to end.And when the old man saw this, he thought to himself, “This time I feel sure I shall lose my child!”But he said to the Badger: “There is a man in this village who has never been beaten at running. You must overcome him, if you wish to win your wife.”And when the racer from the village came, the Badger asked him, “Who are you?”And the racer answered, “I am the Northern Lights.”“And I,” said the Badger, “am the Chain Lightning.”And they ran.In an instant they were no longer to be seen, but were beyond the distant hills. And the Chief, with the Mikumwess and all the people, sat and waited till noon, when Chain Lightning, who was the Badger, returned. He was not out of breath, nor weary, though he had run all around the world.But Northern Lights came not. When evening drew near they saw him come quivering and panting with fatigue, yet for all that he had not been around the world, but had been forced to turn back.And when the old man saw that Chain Lightning had won, he thought to himself, “Alas! This time I have surely lost my child!”But he said to the Badger, “To win your wife, young man, you must overcome a great warrior who swims and dives so excellently that no one has ever equalled him.”To this the young men agreed, and the next morning they went to the seashore, where the test was to be. The Mikumwess again lent the Badger his fairy flute.And when the diver from the village came, the Badger asked him, “Who are you?”And the diver replied, “I am the Sea Duck.”“And I,” said the Badger, “am the Loon.”So they dived.And after a short time the Sea Duck rose for breath; but the people who sat there, with the Chief and the Mikumwess, had long to wait for the Loon. Hour after hour passed, but he came not. At last he rose to the surface, and was not out of breath.And when the old man saw this he groaned and said, “Oh, Badger, I have lost my child!”Then the wedding-feast was prepared, and the Chief brought Brown Fawn from the lodge and gave her to the Badger. And in the evening  the feast was held and a great dance; and the Mikumwess astonished all who saw him, for he danced a deep trench in the ground around the lodge.And when the morning was come the Mikumwess, together with the Badger and Brown Fawn, entered the stone canoe, and set sail for the country of the Wabanaki. And when they reached the shore they found Glooskap, the mighty Magician, waiting for them.And, smiling, he said to the Mikumwess, “Go your way in the forest and join the band of Fairies, and be always happy with your magic flute.”Then to the Badger he said: “Welcome once more to the Land of the Children of Light. Take your wife, Brown Fawn, and return to your lodge. Plenty of game shall always be yours, and peace and contentment.”Then the Mikumwess disappeared in the forest; and the Badger, leading Brown Fawn, returned to his lodge in the village of the Wabanaki.Note: This Native American fairy tale is from the Micmac tribe and originally came from Algonquin Legends of New England.
There was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. And once as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up again, he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to him, “Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live, I am no Flounder really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I should not be good to eat, put me in the water again, and let me go.”“Come,” said the Fisherman, “there is no need for so many words about it a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow,” with that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel.“Husband,” said the woman, “have you caught nothing to-day?”“No,” said the man, “I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, so I let him go again.”“Did you not wish for anything first?” said the woman.“No,” said the man; “what should I wish for?”“Ah,” said the woman, “it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty hovel; you might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage, he will certainly give us that.”“Ah,” said the man, “why should I go there again?”“Why,” said the woman, “you did catch him, and you let him go again; he is sure to do it. Go at once.” The man still did not quite like to go, but did not like to oppose his wife, and went to the sea.When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer so smooth; so he stood and said,“Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will.”“The flounder came swimming up.” Illustration by Wuanita Smith, published in Snow White and Other Stories by the Brothers Grimm (1922), G.W. Jacobs and Company.Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, “Well, what does she want, then?”“Ah,” said the man, “I did catch you, and my wife says I really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live in a wretched hovel any longer; she would like to have a cottage.”“Go, then,” said the Flounder, “she has it already.”When the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but instead of it there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, “Just come inside, look, now isn’t this a great deal better?”So they went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and bedroom, and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage there was a small yard, with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit.“Look,” said the wife, “is not that nice!”“Yes,” said the husband, “and so we must always think it, now we will live quite contented.”“We will think about that,” said the wife. With that they ate something and went to bed.Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman said, “Hark you, husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and the garden and yard are little; the Flounder might just as well have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle.”“Ah, wife,” said the man, “the cottage is quite good enough; why should we live in a castle?”“What!” said the woman; “just go there, the Flounder can always do that.”“No, wife,” said the man, “the Flounder has just given us the cottage, I do not like to go back so soon, it might make him angry.”“Go,” said the woman, “he can do it quite easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him.”The man’s heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, “It is not right,” and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the water was quite purple and dark-blue, and grey and thick, and no longer so green and yellow, but it was still quiet. And he stood there and said“Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will.”“Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder.“Alas,” said the man, half scared, “she wants to live in a great stone castle.” “Go to it, then, she is standing before the door,” said the Flounder.Then the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the steps going in, and she took him by the hand and said, “Come in.”So he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors; and the walls were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and all the rooms and bed-rooms had carpets, and food and wine of the very best were standing on all the tables so that they nearly broke down beneath it.Behind the house, too, there was a great court-yard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of carriages; there was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could be desired.“Come,” said the woman, “isn’t that beautiful?”“Yes, indeed,” said the man, “now let it be; and we will live in this beautiful castle and be content.”“We will consider about that,” said the woman, “and sleep upon it;” thereupon they went to bed.Next morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her elbow, and said, “Get up, husband, and just peep out of the window. Look you, couldn’t we be the King over all that land? Go to the Flounder, we will be the King.”“Ah, wife,” said the man, “why should we be King? I do not want to be King.”“Well,” said the wife, “if you won’t be King, I will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King.”“Ah, wife,” said the man, “why do you want to be King? I do not like to say that to him.”“Why not?” said the woman; “go to him this instant; I must be King!”So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his wife wished to be King. “It is not right; it is not right,” thought he. He did not wish to go, but yet he went.And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-grey, and the water heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, and said,“Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will”“Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder.“Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be King.”“Go to her; she is King already.”So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and the sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of soldiers with kettle-drums and trumpets. And when he went inside the house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and there was the court in all its splendor, and his wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both sides of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always one head shorter than the last.Then he went and stood before her, and said, “Ah, wife, and now you are King.”“Yes,” said the woman, “now I am King.” So he stood and looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, “And now that you are King, let all else be, now we will wish for nothing more.” “Nay, husband,” said the woman, quite anxiously, “I find time pass very heavily, I can bear it no longer; go to the Flounder I am King, but I must be Emperor, too.” “Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?” “Husband,” said she, “go to the Flounder. I will be Emperor.” “Alas, wife,” said the man, “he cannot make you Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only one Emperor in the land. An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I assure you he cannot.”“What!” said the woman, “I am the King, and you are nothing but my husband; will you go this moment? go at once! If he can make a king he can make an emperor. I will be Emperor; go instantly.” So he was forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, and thought to himself, “It will not end well; it will not end well! Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out.”With that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. Then he went and stood by it, and said,“Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will.”“Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder. “Alas, Flounder,” said he, “my wife wants to be Emperor.” “Go to her,” said the Flounder; “she is Emperor already.”So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating cymbals and drums; and in the house, barons, and counts, and dukes were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and set with diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, and in the other the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, to the very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it stood a number of princes and dukes.Then the man went and stood among them, and said, “Wife, are you Emperor now?” “Yes,” said she, “now I am Emperor.” Then he stood and looked at her well, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, “Ah, wife, be content, now that you are Emperor.” “Husband,” said she, “why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will be Pope too; go to the Flounder.” “Alas, wife,” said the man, “what will you not wish for? You cannot be Pope; there is but one in Christendom; he cannot make you Pope.” “Husband,” said she, “I will be Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope this very day.” “No, wife,” said the man, “I do not like to say that to him; that would not do, it is too much; the Flounder can’t make you Pope.” “Husband,” said she, “what nonsense! if he can make an emperor he can make a pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor, and you are nothing but my husband; will you go at once?”Then he was afraid and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the land, and the clouds flew, and towards evening all grew dark, and the leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it were boiling, and splashed upon the shore; and in the distance he saw ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky there was still a small bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said, “Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be Pope.” “Go to her then,” said the Flounder; “she is Pope already.”So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large church surrounded by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd. Inside, however, everything was lighted up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great golden crowns on, and round about her there was much ecclesiastical splendour; and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest kitchen candle, and all the emperors and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe. “Wife,” said the man, and looked attentively at her, “are you now Pope?” “Yes,” said she, “I am Pope.” So he stood and looked at her, and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, “Ah, wife, if you are Pope, do let well alone!” But she looked as stiff as a post, and did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, “Wife, now that you are Pope, be satisfied, you cannot become anything greater now.” “I will consider about that,” said the woman. Thereupon they both went to bed, but she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to be.The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal during the day; but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking always what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it.And when, through the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, “Cannot I, too, order the sun and moon to rise?”“Husband,” said she, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, “wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish to be even as God is.”The man was still half asleep, but he was so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, “Alas, wife, what are you saying?”“Husband,” said she, “if I can’t order the sun and moon to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can’t bear it. “I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make them rise myself.”Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and said, “Go at once; I wish to be like unto God.”“Alas, wife,” said the man, falling on his knees before her, “the Flounder cannot do that; he can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, go on as you are, and be Pope.”Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about her head, and she cried, “I will not endure this, I’ll not bear it any longer; wilt thou go?”Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a madman. But outside a great storm was raging, and blowing so hard that he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own words,“Flounder, flounder in the sea,Come, I pray thee, here to me;For my wife, good Ilsabil,Wills not as I’d have her will.”“Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said he, “she wants to be like unto God.”“Go to her, and you will find her back again in the dirty hovel.”And there they are living still at this very time.
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by every one who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a little cap of red velvet, which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else; so she was always called ‘Little Red-Cap.’One day her mother said to her, “Come, Little Red-Cap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don’t forget to say, ‘Good-morning,’ and don’t peep into every corner before you do it.”{Note: Listen to Little Red Cap, Little Red Riding Hood audiobooks plus other beloved fairy tales from on the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}“I will take great care,” said Little Red-Cap to her mother, and gave her hand on it.“Just as Little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.” Illustration by Warwick Goble. Published in The Fairy Book by Dinah Craik (1913), MacMillan and Company.The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as Little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.“Good-day, Little Red-Cap,” said he.“Thank you kindly, wolf.”“Whither away so early, Little Red-Cap?”“To my grandmother’s.”“What have you got in your apron?”“Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger.”“Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?”“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know it,” replied Little Red-Cap.The wolf thought to himself, “What a tender young creature! what a nice plump mouthful she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as to catch both.”So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Red-Cap, and then he said, “See, Little Red-Cap, how pretty the flowers are about here why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry.”Little Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought, “Suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay; that would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time;” and so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers.And whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked at the door.“Who is there?”“Little Red-Cap,” replied the wolf. “She is bringing cake and wine; open the door.”“Lift the latch,” called out the grandmother, “I am too weak, and cannot get up.”The wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother’s bed, and devoured her. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains.Little Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother, and set out on the way to her.She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself, “Oh dear! how uneasy I feel to-day, and at other times I like being with grandmother so much.”She called out, “Good morning,” but received no answer; so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.“Oh! grandmother,” she said, “what big ears you have!”“The better to hear you with, my child,” was the reply.“But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!” she said.“The better to see you with, my dear.”“But, grandmother, what large hands you have!”“The better to hug you with.”“Oh! but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!”“The better to eat you with!”And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up Red-Cap.When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed, fell asleep and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just passing the house, and thought to himself, “How the old woman is snoring! I must just see if she wants anything.”So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying in it. “Do I find you here, you old sinner!” said he. “I have long sought you!”Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf.When he had made two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying, “Ah, how frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf;” and after that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe.Red-Cap, however, quickly fetched great stones with which they filled the wolf’s body, and when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones were so heavy that he fell down at once, and fell dead.Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf’s skin and went home with it; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which Red-Cap had brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to herself, “As long as I live, I will never by myself leave the path, to run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do so.”It is also related that once when Red-Cap was again taking cakes to the old grandmother, another wolf spoke to her, and tried to entice her from the path. Red-Cap, was, however, on her guard, and went straight forward on her way, and told her grandmother that she had met the wolf, and that he had said “good-morning” to her, but with such a wicked look in his eyes, that if they had not been on the public road she was certain he would have eaten her up.“Well,” said the grandmother, “we will shut the door, that he may not come in.”Soon afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried, “Open the door, grandmother, I am little Red-Cap, and am fetching you some cakes.”But they did not speak, or open the door, so the grey-beard stole twice or three times round the house, and at last jumped on the roof, intending to wait until Red-Cap went home in the evening, and then to steal after her and devour her in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what was in his thoughts.In front of the house was a great stone trough, so she said to the child, “Take the pail, Red-Cap; I made some sausages yesterday, so carry the water in which I boiled them to the trough.”Red-Cap carried until the great trough was quite full. Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peeped down, and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no longer keep his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof straight into the great trough, and was drowned. But Red-Cap went joyously home, and never did anything to harm any one.Note: There are two versions of the story of Little Red Riding Hood available on our site. Folklore specialists estimate there have been at least 58 versions of this story known in the world. Charles Perrault wrote the other version we’ve published, and you’ll find it under the name “Little Red Riding Hood.” It has a much different ending for the girl, and it may be a shock to some readers.
One day one of those tiresome picnic parties came again to the bush, and after a great deal of stupid and rather terrifying noise, during which every Piccaninny and Bush Baby and all the other bush folk lay hidden away in utter silence, the people all went away again, and the Wee Folk were free to come out of their hiding places and turn over curiously the few things the party had left.There was an empty meat tin which flashed so brightly that the Piccaninnies took it for a helmet, and each in turn tried to wear it; but it was so big that it simply hid them altogether, so very regretfully they had to throw it away. Then there were a few crusts of bread which quite by accident one of the boys discovered to be good to eat. They finished every crumb of the bread and enjoyed it, but on the whole agreed that fern root tasted nicer. There was an empty bottle that nobody dared go near, for they thought it was some kind of gun, and a baby’s woollen bootee, which the Piccaninnies found most useful as an enormous bag to be filled with berries. But most mysterious, and therefore most interesting, though a little frightening, was a large heap of grey smoking ashes where the picnic fire had been.The Piccaninnies circled round and round this queer grey pile wondering what on earth it could be. One boy venturing a little nearer than the others trod on a live cinder, for the fire was not as dead as it ought to have been, and jumped back howling and hopping round and round on one foot, holding the other.When they crowded round him asking what had happened he cried in fear:“The Red Enemy bit me. He lives under that grey mound, and I saw his red eye flash as I went near. That is his breath you see rising up through the trees.”The Piccaninnies looked frightened and backed away from the grey mound, but all the rest of that evening they came again and again to stare upon the Red Enemy, and each time they came his red eyes seemed to flash p brighter, his thick white breath to grow denser as it wound up through the trees, and he seemed to be purring and growling to himself.When the Piccaninnies went to bed that night they were very uneasy and could not sleep well. The sound of the Red Enemy’s breathing seemed to fill the bush with a low roaring, and his breath stole in and out of the trees like a reddish mist; the air was very hot and dry. One of the Piccaninnies, a brave little fellow, said that he would go and see what their strange new enemy was doing, and sliding down his sleeping-tree he set off.He had not gone far before the heat and the stifling air drove him hack, and rushing back to his friends he cried:“Run for your lives! Quick! Quick! The Great Red Enemy is coming. He is roaring with anger and tearing the trees down as he comes. None of us can hope to escape him, for he has a million bright red eyes which he sends flying through the bush in all directions to find us, and his breath is so thick that we will be lost in it if we don’t run now. Run! Run!”The Piccaninnies did not wait to be told twice. Without waiting to pack up they slid down the trees and started to run through the dark bush, and soon there were hundreds of little bush creatures all joining in the race for life.On, on they ran in fear and excitement, hearing the angry roaring of the Great Red Enemy behind them, feeling his hot breath scorching them as it writhed and twisted through the trees in reddish-black billows. Some of his millions of angry, red searching eyes flew or drifted past them, but they never stopped for a moment. And now they had left the trees behind them and were running over clear ground, and before long they reached the edge of the swamp, lying dark and cool before them.In their haste and fear they all plunged in headlong and found the water so fresh and cool and delightful after their heat and hurry, that they burrowed deeper into it, only leaving their little black heads sticking out.All that night they lay and watched the Great Red Enemy in his wrath worrying and tearing their poor trees to pieces, and all next day and the next it lasted, and then nothing was left of their beautiful bush but a few black, ugly stumps and a great grey waste of ashes.And from the ashes rose the smoking dense breath of the Red Enemy, and every now and then he flashed an angry red eye. The Piccaninnies who had lived in that part of the bush could never again return to the cool green shades of the forest, never slide down a fern leaf, or swing on the branches, or pick puriri berries, or pelt the morepork in the daytime.What could they do? Where could they go? Poor, poor little Piccaninnies!Well, this is what they did. Having no home to go to, and finding the water very delightful they decided to make their home in it. At first they would only stay timidly near the edges where the water was not deep, but by-and-by through living entirely in the water they grew webbed-toes (you try it!) and became as much at home in the swamp as any other water-creature. Some of them even grew elegant little tails (believe me or not, as you choose!) and they became known in the swamp as the Teenywiggles, and some day you may hear something more of the doings of the Teenywiggles.
The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep,Compacted their earnings in common to keep,‘Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway’dFull lordship o’er neighbours, of whatever grade.The goat, as it happen’d, a stag having snared,Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared.All gather’d; the lion first counts on his claws,And says, “We’ll proceed to divide with our pawsThe stag into pieces, as fix’d by our laws.”This done, he announces part first as his own;“‘Tis mine,” he says, “truly, as lion alone.”To such a decision there’s nought to be said,As he who has made it is doubtless the head.“Well, also, the second to me should belong;‘Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong.Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine.To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign,I’ll choke him to deathIn the space of a breath!”
A young woman, whose name was Mary Scannell, lived with her husband not many years ago at Castle Martyr. One day in harvest time she went with several more to help in binding up the wheat, and left her child, which she was nursing, in a corner of the field, quite safe, as she thought, wrapped up in her cloak. When she had finished her work, she returned where the child was, but in place of her own child she found a thing in the cloak that was not half the size, and that kept up such a crying you might have heard it a mile off: so she guessed how the case was, and, without stop or stay, away she took it in her arms, pretending to be mighty fond of it all the while, to a wise woman, who told her in a whisper not to give it enough to eat, and to beat and pinch it without mercy, which Mary Scannell did; and just in one week after to the day, when she awoke in the morning, she found her own child lying by her side in the bed! The fairy that had been put in its place did not like the usage it got from Mary Scannell, who understood how to treat it, like a sensible woman as she was, and away it went after the week’s trial, and sent her own child back to her.
There was once a King who had an illness, and no one believed that he would come out of it with his life. He had three sons who were much distressed about it, and went down into the palace-garden and wept. There they met an old man who inquired as to the cause of their grief. They told him that their father was so ill that he would most certainly die, for nothing seemed to cure him. Then the old man said, “I know of one more remedy, and that is the water of life; if he drinks of it he will become well again; but it is hard to find.” The eldest said, “I will manage to find it,” and went to the sick King, and begged to be allowed to go forth in search of the water of life, for that alone could save him. “No,” said the King, “the danger of it is too great. I would rather die.” But he begged so long that the King consented. The prince thought in his heart, “If I bring the water, then I shall be best beloved of my father, and shall inherit the kingdom.” So he set out, and when he had ridden forth a little distance, a dwarf stood there in the road who called to him and said, “Whither away so fast?” “Silly shrimp,” said the prince, very haughtily, “it is nothing to you,” and rode on. But the little dwarf had grown angry, and had wished an evil wish. Soon after this the prince entered a ravine, and the further he rode the closer the mountains drew together, and at last the road became so narrow that he could not advance a step further; it was impossible either to turn his horse or to dismount from the saddle, and he was shut in there as if in prison. The sick King waited long for him, but he came not. Then the second son said, “Father, let me go forth to seek the water,” and thought to himself, “If my brother is dead, then the kingdom will fall to me.” At first the King would not allow him to go either, but at last he yielded, so the prince set out on the same road that his brother had taken, and he too met the dwarf, who stopped him to ask, whither he was going in such haste? “Little shrimp,” said the prince, “that is nothing to thee,” and rode on without giving him another look. But the dwarf bewitched him, and he, like the other, got into a ravine, and could neither go forwards nor backwards. So fare haughty people.As the second son also remained away, the youngest begged to be allowed to go forth to fetch the water, and at last the King was obliged to let him go. When he met the dwarf and the latter asked him whither he was going in such haste, he stopped, gave him an explanation, and said, “I am seeking the water of life, for my father is sick unto death.” “Dost thou know, then, where that is to be found?” “No,” said the prince. “As thou hast borne thyself as is seemly, and not haughtily like thy false brothers, I will give thee the information and tell thee how thou mayst obtain the water of life. It springs from a fountain in the courtyard of an enchanted castle, but thou wilt not be able to make thy way to it, if I do not give thee an iron wand and two small loaves of bread. Strike thrice with the wand on the iron door of the castle, and it will spring open: inside lie two lions with gaping jaws, but if thou throwest a loaf to each of them, they will be quieted, then hasten to fetch some of the water of life before the clock strikes twelve, else the door will shut again, and thou wilt be imprisoned.” The prince thanked him, took the wand and the bread, and set out on his way. When he arrived, everything was as the dwarf had said. The door sprang open at the third stroke of the wand, and when he had appeased the lions with the bread, he entered the castle, and came in a large and splendid hall, wherein sat some enchanted princes whose rings he drew off their fingers. A sword and a loaf of bread were lying there, which he carried away. After this, he entered a chamber, in which was a beautiful maiden who rejoiced when she saw him, kissed him, and told him that he had delivered her, and should have the whole of her kingdom, and that if he would return in a year their wedding should be celebrated; likewise she told him where the spring of the water of life was, and that he was to hasten and draw some of it before the clock struck twelve. Then he went onwards, and at last entered a room where there was a beautiful newly-made bed, and as he was very weary, he felt inclined to rest a little. So he lay down and fell asleep. When he awoke, it was striking a quarter to twelve. He sprang up in a fright, ran to the spring, drew some water in a cup which stood near, and hastened away. But just as he was passing through the iron door, the clock struck twelve, and the door fell to with such violence that it carried away a piece of his heel. He, however, rejoicing at having obtained the water of life, went homewards, and again passed the dwarf. When the latter saw the sword and the loaf, he said, “With these thou hast won great wealth; with the sword thou canst slay whole armies, and the bread will never come to an end.” But the prince would not go home to his father without his brothers, and said, “Dear dwarf, canst thou not tell me where my two brothers are? They went out before I did in search of the water of life, and have not returned.” “They are imprisoned between two mountains,” said the dwarf. “I have condemned them to stay there, because they were so haughty.” Then the prince begged until the dwarf released them; he warned him, however, and said, “Beware of them, for they have bad hearts.” When his brothers came, he rejoiced, and told them how things had gone with him, that he had found the water of life, and had brought a cupful away with him, and had delivered a beautiful princess, who was willing to wait a year for him, and then their wedding was to be celebrated, and he would obtain a great kingdom. After that they rode on together, and chanced upon a land where war and famine reigned, and the King already thought he must perish, for the scarcity was so great. Then the prince went to him and gave him the loaf, wherewith he fed and satisfied the whole of his kingdom, and then the prince gave him the sword also, wherewith he slew the hosts of his enemies, and could now live in rest and peace. The prince then took back his loaf and his sword, and the three brothers rode on. But after this they entered two more countries where war and famine reigned, and each time the prince gave his loaf and his sword to the Kings, and had now delivered three kingdoms, and after that they went on board a ship and sailed over the sea. During the passage, the two eldest conversed apart and said, “The youngest has found the water of life and not we, for that our father will give him the kingdom — the kingdom which belongs to us, and he will rob us of all our fortune.” They then began to seek revenge, and plotted with each other to destroy him. They waited until once when they found him fast asleep, then they poured the water of life out of the cup, and took it for themselves, but into the cup they poured salt sea-water. Now therefore, when they arrived at home, the youngest took his cup to the sick King in order that he might drink out of it, and be cured. But scarcely had he drunk a very little of the salt sea-water than he became still worse than before. And as he was lamenting over this, the two eldest brothers came, and accused the youngest of having intended to poison him, and said that they had brought him the true water of life, and handed it to him. He had scarcely tasted it, when he felt his sickness departing, and became strong and healthy as in the days of his youth. After that they both went to the youngest, mocked him, and said, “You certainly found the water of life, but you have had the pain, and we the gain; you should have been sharper, and should have kept your eyes open. We took it from you whilst you were asleep at sea, and when a year is over, one of us will go and fetch the beautiful princess. But beware that you do not disclose aught of this to our father; indeed he does not trust you, and if you say a single word, you shall lose your life into the bargain, but if you keep silent, you shall have it as a gift.”The old King was angry with his youngest son, and thought he had plotted against his life. So he summoned the court together, and had sentence pronounced upon his son, that he should be secretly shot. And once when the prince was riding forth to the chase, suspecting no evil, the King’s huntsman had to go with him, and when they were quite alone in the forest, the huntsman looked so sorrowful that the prince said to him, “Dear huntsman, what ails you?” The huntsman said, “I cannot tell you, and yet I ought.” Then the prince said, “Say openly what it is, I will pardon you.” “Alas!” said the huntsman, “I am to shoot you dead, the King has ordered me to do it.” Then the prince was shocked, and said, “Dear huntsman, let me live; there, I give you my royal garments; give me your common ones in their stead.” The huntsman said, “I will willingly do that, indeed I should not have been able to shoot you.” Then they exchanged clothes, and the huntsman returned home; the prince, however, went further into the forest. After a time three waggons of gold and precious stones came to the King for his youngest son, which were sent by the three Kings who had slain their enemies with the prince’s sword, and maintained their people with his bread, and who wished to show their gratitude for it. The old King then thought, “Can my son have been innocent?” and said to his people, “Would that he were still alive, how it grieves me that I have suffered him to be killed!” “He still lives,” said the huntsman, “I could not find it in my heart to carry out your command,” and told the King how it had happened. Then a stone fell from the King’s heart, and he had it proclaimed in every country that his son might return and be taken into favour again.The princess, however, had a road made up to her palace which was quite bright and golden, and told her people that whosoever came riding straight along it to her, would be the right wooer and was to be admitted, and whoever rode by the side of it, was not the right one, and was not to be admitted. As the time was now close at hand, the eldest thought he would hasten to go to the King’s daughter, and give himself out as her deliverer, and thus win her for his bride, and the kingdom to boot. Therefore he rode forth, and when he arrived in front of the palace, and saw the splendid golden road, he thought it would be a sin and a shame if he were to ride over that, and turned aside, and rode on the right side of it. But when he came to the door, the servants told him that he was not the right man, and was to go away again. Soon after this the second prince set out, and when he came to the golden road, and his horse had put one foot on it, he thought it would be a sin and a shame to tread a piece of it off, and he turned aside and rode on the left side of it, and when he reached the door, the attendants told him he was not the right one, and he was to go away again. When at last the year had entirely expired, the third son likewise wished to ride out of the forest to his beloved, with her forget his sorrows. So he set out and thought of her so incessantly, and wished to be with her so much, that he never noticed the golden road at all. So his horse rode onwards up the middle of it, and when he came to the door, it was opened and the princess received him with joy, and said he was her deliverer, and lord of the kingdom, and their wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing. When it was over she told him that his father invited him to come to him, and had forgiven him. So he rode thither, and told him everything; how his brothers had betrayed him, and how he had nevertheless kept silence. The old King wished to punish them, but they had put to sea, and never came back as long as they lived.
There lived a king who had an only son, on whom he doted. No one, not even his oldest tutor, was permitted to utter a word of correction to the prince whenever he did anything wrong, and so he grew up completely spoiled. He had many faults, but the worst features of his character were that he was proud, arrogant and cruel. Naturally, too, he was selfish and disobedient. When he was called to his lessons, he refused, saying, “I am a prince. Before many years I shall be your king. I have no need to learn what common people must know. Enough for me that I shall occupy the throne and shall rule. My will alone shall prevail. Says not the law of the land, ‘The king can do no wrong’?”Handsome and haughty, even as a youth, he made the king’s subjects fear him by his imperious manner. His appearance in the streets was the signal for everyone to run into his house, bar the doors, and peer nervously through the casements. He was a reckless rider, and woe betide the unfortunate persons who happened to be in his way. Sparing neither man, woman, nor child, he callously rode over them, or lashed out vindictively with the long whip he always carried, laughing when anyone screamed with pain.So outrageous did his public conduct become that the people determined to suffer in silence no longer. They denounced the prince in public, they petitioned the king himself to restrain his son, and his majesty could not disregard the complaints. At first he was merely annoyed, then he was indignant, but when he saw that the people were thoroughly aroused and threatened revolt, he deemed it wise to inquire into the charges against his son.A commission of three judges was appointed to investigate. They made fullest inquiry and finally laid a document before the king summarizing what they did not hesitate to declare the “infamous actions of His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.”The king’s sense of justice and righteousness at once overcame his foolish pride.“My people stand justified in their attitude which at first I thought only disrespectful to my royal person,” he said. “I owe them an apology and recompense. I shall atone. And my son shall atone, too. He shall not escape punishment.”He summoned his son to appear before him, and the prince entered the royal justice chamber with the air of a braggart, smiling contemptuously at the learned judges who were seated to right and left of his majesty, and defiantly cracking his whip.“Knowest thou why thou hast been bidden to stand before the judges of the land?” asked the king.“I know not and I care not,” was the haughty answer. “The foolish chatter of the mob interests me not.”The king frowned. He had not seen the prince behave in this fashion before. In the presence of his father, he had always been respectful.“Thou hast disgraced thy honored name and thy mother’s sacred memory, foolish prince,” exclaimed the monarch angrily. “Thou hast humiliated thyself and me before the people.”Still the prince tried to laugh off the matter as a joke, but he quickly discovered that the king was in no mood for trifling. Standing grave and erect, his majesty pronounced sentence in a loud and firm voice.“Know all men,” he said, while all the judges, counselors, officers of state and representatives of the people stood awed to silence, “that it having been proved on indisputable evidence that the prince, my son, hath grievously transgressed against the righteous laws of this land and against the people, my subjects, on whom he hath heaped insult, I have taken counsel with my advisers, the ministers of state, and it is my royal will and pleasure to pronounce sentence. Wherefore, I declare that my son, the prince, shall be cast forth into the world, penniless, and shall not return until he shall have learned how to Count Five. And be it further known that none may minister unto his wants should he crave assistance by declaring he is my son, the prince.”The prince stood astounded. What did the mysterious sentence mean? None could tell him. The only answer to his inquiries was a shrug of the shoulders, for nobody would speak to him.In the dead of night, with only the stars gazing down on the strange scene, the prince, clad in the cast-off garments of a common laborer, with his golden curls cut off and not a solitary coin in his pocket, was conducted outside the palace grounds and left alone in the road.He was too much dazed to weep. He told himself this was some horrible dream from which he would waken in the morning, to find himself in his own beautiful room, lying on his gilded bed under the richly embroidered silken coverlet.When dawn broke, however, he found himself hungry, tired, and his body painfully stiff, under a hedge. He knew now it was no dream but a reality. He was alone and friendless, with no means of earning his food. He understood then what hardships the poor were compelled to undergo, and he began to realize how he had made them suffer, and how, in turn, he was now to pay a heavy price for his brutal treatment of the people.All that day he wandered aimlessly, until, foot-sore and exhausted, he sank down at the door of a wayside cottage and begged for food and shelter. These were given to him, and next day he was set to work in the fields. But his hands were not used to labor, and he was sent adrift, his fellow workers jeering at him. With a heavy heart, and his pride humbled, he set forth again to learn the mystery of how to Count Five.Long days and endless nights, through the heat of the summer, through the snows of winter, the autumnal rains and cold blasts of early spring, he wandered.A whole year passed away, and he had learned nothing. In truth, he had almost forgotten why he was aimlessly drifting from place to place, farther and farther from his home.Hunger and thirst were more often than not his daily portion, and the cold earth by night was frequently his couch. Time seemed to drag along without meaning, and oft-times for a week he heard not the sound of a human voice.He was a beggar, generally accepting gratefully what was given to him, sometimes with harsh words, often with kindly expressions. When he could, he worked, doing anything for small coins, for a rabbi, who had taken compassion on him, had said, “Do any honest work, however repugnant it may at first seem, rather than say haughtily, ‘I am the son of a rich father.'”For a moment he wondered whether the rabbi had guessed his secret, but the learned man said to him he was but repeating a maxim from the Talmud.Exactly a year from the date of his sentence, as well as he could keep count, the prince found himself in a strange land on the outskirts of a great city. There he fell in with a beggar who hailed him as a brother.“Come with me,” said the beggar. “I know the lore of our fraternity as few do. I know where to obtain the best food and shelter for naught. Here, in this city, a beautiful and noble princess has established a place where all wayfarers may rest and refresh. None are turned away. I will take you thither.”The beggar was as good as his word, and the prince enjoyed the best meal and the most comfortable shelter since he had been an outcast. Overcome with emotion at the thoughts which were conjured up, he retired into a corner and wept. Suddenly he heard a voice of entrancing sweetness say, “Why do you weep?”He looked up and beheld the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen. Instinctively, he rose and bowed low, but made no answer.“The princess speaks. It is your duty to answer,” said another voice, that of an attendant.A princess! Of course, none but a princess could be so fair. And what a sympathetic voice she possessed. As a prince, he remembered, he had spoken harshly as a rule, and had never visited any of the charitable institutions.“You must have a history,” said the princess, kindly. “Tell it to me. If it is to be kept a secret, you may place confidence in me. I shall not betray you.”The prince was on the point of telling her everything but he hesitated and said:“Alas! I am an unhappy, wandering beggar, as you see, O most gracious princess. But pity me not. I am not worthy of your kind thoughts. A year ago I dwelt in a—a beautiful house. I was the only son of a—rich merchant, and my father lavished all his love and wealth on me. But I was wicked. I was unkind to people, and I was cast forth and ordered not to return until I had learned to Count Five. I have not yet learned. I am doomed to a wretched life. That is the whole of my history.”“Strange,” murmured the princess. “I will help thee if I can.”Next day she came again to the shelter, and with her was the rabbi who had given the prince good counsel. The rabbi made no sign that he had seen the stranger before.“This sage of the Jews is a wise man and will teach thee,” said the princess, and, at her bidding, the prince repeated what he had said the previous night.“It is a simple lesson,” said the rabbi, “so absurdly simple, unfortunately, that proud people overlook it. Tell me, my son,” he added. “Hast thou experienced hunger?”“That I have,” returned the prince, sadly.“Then canst thou count One. Dost thou know what it is to feel cold?”“Two canst thou count. Tell me, further, dost thou know what kindness of heart is?”“That have I received from the poorest and also from the gracious princess.”“Thou hast proceeded far in thy lesson,” said the rabbi. “Thou canst now count Three. Hast thou ever felt gratitude?”“Indeed I have, often during this past year, and now most particularly.”“Four is now the toll of thy count,” said the rabbi. “Tell me, my son, hast thou learned the greatest lesson of all? Dost thou feel humble in spirit?”With tears in his eyes, the prince answered, “I do, most sincerely.”“Then hast thou truly learned to Count Five. Return to thy father. He must be a wise and just man to impose on thee this lesson. He will assuredly forgive thee. Go, with my blessing,” and the rabbi raised his hands above the young man’s head and uttered a benediction.“Take also my good wishes,” said the princess, and she offered him her hand to kiss.“Gracious princess,” he said, “it is not meet that a beggar in rags should speak what is in his heart. But I shall return, and if thou deemest me worthy, perchance thou wilt grant a request that I shall make.”“Perchance,” replied the princess, with a laugh.The prince made haste to return to his father’s palace and related all his adventures. The old man listened quietly, then he clasped his son in his arms, forgave him, and proudly proclaimed him prince before all the people again. He was a changed man, and nevermore guilty of a cruel action.Before many months had passed, he returned to the city where he had seen the princess, with a long retinue of attendants, all bearing presents.“Gracious princess,” he said, when he had been granted an audience. “I said I would return.”“Indeed! I know thee not.”The prince told her of their former meeting and she seemed highly pleased.“Now,” he said, “put the crown on thy work which restored to me the manhood I had foolishly cast away by my conduct. I would make thee my bride, and with thee ever my guide and counselor, I shall be the most faithful of kings, and thou a queen of goodness and beauty and wisdom such as the world has not yet seen.”The princess did not give her answer immediately, but in due course she did; and once again, the prince returned home, this time happier than ever. Sitting by his side in the chariot of state, was the princess, radiant in smiles, for the people welcomed her heartily, strewing flowers in her path. And ever afterward there was happiness throughout the land.
Now that Sigurd had wed Gudrun he was one with the Nibelungs. The hoard that was in Fafnir’s cave he brought away and he left it in their treasure house. He went into his fosterfather’s kingdom again, and he saw King Alv and Hiordis, his mother. But he had no memory now of the House of Flame, nor of Brynhild, who waited there for him.King Giuki died, and Gunnar, Sigurd’s sworn brother, became King in his stead. His mother would have him wed, but Gunnar told her he had seen no maiden whom he would choose for his wife.But when Sigurd and he were together Gunnar would speak of a maiden far away, one whom he often thought on. And one day when Sigurd pressed him to tell who this maiden was, he spoke of one whom the wisest of the poets told of, a maiden in a Hall with a flame around it, a maiden named Brynhild who was guarded by a ring of fire.Sigurd laughed to think that his shrewd brother was beguiled by one whom he had only heard of. But if he was beguiled by the tale of her, why should he not come to her and wed her? So Sigurd said. Then Gunnar bent to him and asked Sigurd would he aid him to win her? And Sigurd took Gunnar’s hand and swore that he would.So they started off for Hindfell, Gunnar and Högni and Sigurd. They rode on until they came in sight of the black walls with the mounting and circling fire around them. No memory had Sigurd of the place. With the flame of eagerness upon his stolid face Gunnar went forward to ride through the ring of fire. He brought Goti, his horse, near the flame, but the horse, for no urging, would go through it. Then Gunnar thought that, mounted on Grani, Sigurd’s horse, he could ride through the ring of fire. He mounted Grani and came near to the flaring wall. But Grani, knowing that the one who rode him had fear of the fire, reared up and would not go through it. Only with Sigurd on his back would Grani go through the flame.Then were the three sworn brethren greatly discomfited. But after they had considered it for long Högni the Wise said: “There is a way to win Brynhild, and that is for Sigurd to change shapes, by the magic of his helmet, with Gunnar. Then Sigurd could ride Grani through the wall of flame and come to Brynhild in Gunnar’s shape.”So spoke Högni the Wise, and when he saw his sworn brother’s gaze fixed on him in pleading, Sigurd could not but agree to ride through the flame and come to Brynhild in the way he said. And so by the magic of his helmet he changed shapes with Gunnar. Then he mounted Grani and rode to the wall of flame. And Grani, knowing that the one he bore was without fear, rode through the flaring fire. Then Sigurd came into the courtyard of the House of Flame. He dismounted from Grani, and he bade his horse be still.He went within the Hall and he saw one with a bow in her hands shooting at a mark. She turned to him, and he saw a beautiful and stern face, with coils of wondrous, bright-gleaming hair and eyes that were like stars in an unventured-in sea. He thought that the arrow in her hands had been shot through him. But it was not so. Brynhild threw down the bow and came to him with that walk of hers that was as of one moving above the earth. And when she came near and looked upon him she uttered a strange cry.“Who art thou?” she said. “Who art thou who hast come to me through the wall of flaring fire?”“Gunnar, son of Giuki, of the race of the Nibelungs,” Sigurd said.“Art thou the bravest one in the world?” she asked.“I have ridden through the wall of flaring fire to come to thee,” Sigurd answered.“He who has come through that wall of flaring fire may claim me,” Brynhild said. “It is written in the runes, and it must be so. But I thought there was only one who would come to me through it.” She looked at him, and her eyes had a flame of anger. “Oh, I would strive with thee with warrior-weapons,” she cried. Then Sigurd felt her strong hands upon him, and he knew that she was striving to throw him.They wrestled, and each was so strong that none could move the other. They wrestled, Sigurd the first of heroes, and Brynhild, the Valkyrie. Sigurd got her hand in his in the wrestle. On that hand was a ring, and Sigurd bent back the finger and drew it off.It was Andvari’s ring, the ring he had placed on her finger. And when the ring was taken off it, Brynhild sank down on her knees like one that was strengthless.Then Sigurd lifted her in his arms and carried her to where Grani, his horse, was waiting. He lifted her across his horse, and he mounted behind her and again he rode through the wall of flame. Högni and Gunnar were waiting, Gunnar in Sigurd’s shape. Brynhild did not look upon them, but covered her face with her hands. Then Sigurd took back his own shape, and he rode before Gunnar and Högni to the hall of the Nibelungs.He went within, and he found Gudrun, his wife, playing with Sigmund, his little son, and he sat beside her and he told her of all that had befallen: how, for the sake of the sworn brotherhood, he had won Brynhild the Valkyrie for Gunnar, and how he had striven with her and had overcome her, and had taken off her finger the ring that he now wore upon his own.And even as he spoke to his wife the fume of the potion that Gudrun’s mother had given him was wearing off, and he had memories of going to the House of Flame on a day that was not this day, and of riding through the wall of fire in his own shape. And again, as on the night when he drank the potion that Queen Grimhild brewed, he became as one whose wits are astray. He stood watching his child as he played, and his wife as she worked at her embroidery, and he was as a man in a dream.While he was standing there Gunnar and Högni came into the hall of the Nibelungs bringing Brynhild with them. Gudrun rose up to welcome her who came as her brother’s bride. Then did Sigurd look on Brynhild and then did he remember all. And when he remembered all such a mighty sigh rose from his heart as burst the links of the mail that was across his breast.
Long, long before your great-grandfather was born there lived in the village of Everlasting Happiness two men called Li and Sing. Now, these two men were close friends, living together in the same house. Before settling down in the village of Everlasting Happiness they had ruled as high officials for more than twenty years. They had often treated the people very harshly, so that everybody, old and young, disliked and hated them. And yet, by robbing the wealthy merchants and by cheating the poor, these two evil companions had become rich, and it was in order to spend their ill-gotten gains in idle amusements that they sought out the village of Everlasting Happiness. “For here,” said they, “we can surely find that joy which has been denied us in every other place. Here we shall no longer be scorned by men and reviled by women.”Consequently these two men bought for themselves the finest house in the village, furnished it in the most elegant manner, and decorated the walls with scrolls filled with wise sayings and pictures by famous artists. Outside there were lovely gardens filled with flowers and birds, and oh, ever so many trees with queer twisted branches growing in the shape of tigers and other wild animals.Whenever they felt lonely Li and Sing invited rich people of the neighbourhood to come and dine with them, and after they had eaten, sometimes they would go out upon the little lake in the centre of their estate, rowing in an awkward flat-bottomed boat that had been built by the village carpenter.One day, on such an occasion, when the sun had been beating down fiercely upon the clean-shaven heads of all those on the little barge, for you must know this was long before the day when hats were worn—at least, in the village of Everlasting Happiness—Mr. Li was suddenly seized with a giddy feeling, which rapidly grew worse and worse until he was in a burning fever.“Snake’s blood mixed with powdered deer-horn is the thing for him,” said the wise-looking doctor who was called in, peering at Li carefully through his huge glasses, “Be sure,” he continued, addressing Li’s personal attendant, and, at the same time, snapping his long finger-nails nervously, “be sure, above all, not to leave him alone, for he is in danger of going raving mad at any moment, and I cannot say what he may do if he is not looked after carefully. A man in his condition has no more sense than a baby.”Now, although these words of the doctor’s really made Mr. Li angry, he was too ill to reply, for all this time his head had been growing hotter and hotter, until at last a feverish sleep overtook him. No sooner had he closed his eyes than his faithful servant, half-famished, rushed out of the room to join his fellows at their mid-day meal.Li awoke with a start. He had slept only ten minutes. “Water, water,” he moaned, “bathe my head with cold water. I am half dead with pain!” But there was no reply, for the attendant was dining happily with his fellows.“Air, air,” groaned Mr. Li, tugging at the collar of his silk shirt. “I’m dying for water. I’m starving for air. This blazing heat will kill me. It is hotter than the Fire god himself ever dreamed of making it. Wang, Wang!” clapping his hands feebly and calling to his servant, “air and water, air and water!”But still no Wang.At last, with the strength that is said to come from despair, Mr. Li arose from his couch and staggered toward the doorway. Out he went into the paved courtyard, and then, after only a moment’s hesitation, made his way across it into a narrow passage that led into the lake garden.“What do they care for a man when he is sick?” he muttered. “My good friend Sing is doubtless even now enjoying his afternoon nap, with a servant standing by to fan him, and a block of ice near his head to cool the air. What does he care if I die of a raging fever? Doubtless he expects to inherit all my money. And my servants! That rascal Wang has been with me these ten years, living on me and growing lazier every season! What does he care if I pass away? Doubtless he is certain that Sing’s servants will think of something for him to do, and he will have even less work than he has now. Water, water! I shall die if I don’t soon find a place to soak myself!”So saying, he arrived at the bank of a little brook that flowed in through a water gate at one side of the garden and emptied itself into the big fish-pond. Flinging himself down by a little stream Li bathed his hands and wrists in the cool water. How delightful! If only it were deep enough to cover his whole body, how gladly would he cast himself in and enjoy the bliss of its refreshing embrace!For a long time he lay on the ground, rejoicing at his escape from the doctor’s clutches. Then, as the fever began to rise again, he sprang up with a determined cry, “What am I waiting for? I will do it. There’s no one to prevent me, and it will do me a world of good. I will cast myself head first into the fish-pond. It is not deep enough near the shore to drown me if I should be too weak to swim, and I am sure it will restore me to strength and health.”He hastened along the little stream, almost running in his eagerness to reach the deeper water of the pond. He was like some small Tom Brown who had escaped from the watchful eye of the master and run out to play in a forbidden spot.Hark! Was that a servant calling? Had Wang discovered the absence of his employer? Would he sound the alarm, and would the whole place soon be alive with men searching for the fever-stricken patient?With one last sigh of satisfaction Li flung himself, clothes and all, into the quiet waters of the fish-pond. Now Li had been brought up in Fukien province on the seashore, and was a skilful swimmer. He dived and splashed to his heart’s content, then floated on the surface. “It takes me back to my boyhood,” he cried, “why, oh why, is it not the fashion to swim? I’d love to live in the water all the time and yet some of my countrymen are even more afraid than a cat of getting their feet wet. As for me, I’d give anything to stay here for ever.”“You would, eh?” chuckled a hoarse voice just under him, and then there was a sort of wheezing sound, followed by a loud burst of laughter. Mr. Li jumped as if an arrow had struck him, but when he noticed the fat, ugly monster below, his fear turned into anger. “Look here, what do you mean by giving a fellow such a start! Don’t you know what the Classics say about such rudeness?”The giant fish laughed all the louder. “What time do you suppose I have for Classics? You make me laugh till I cry!”“But you must answer my question,” cried Mr. Li, more and more persistently, forgetting for the moment that he was not trying some poor culprit for a petty crime. “Why did you laugh? Speak out at once, fellow!”“You are talking about the island dwarfs, the Japanese,” interrupted Mr. Li, “We Chinese seldom undertake to do anything new.”“Just hear the man!” chuckled the fish. “Now, fancy your wishing to stay in the water for ever! What do you know about water? Why you’re not even provided with the proper equipment for swimming. What would you do if you really lived here always?”“What am I doing now?” spluttered Mr. Li, so angry that he sucked in a mouthful of water before he knew it.“Floundering,” retorted the other.“Don’t you see me swimming? Are those big eyes of yours made of glass?”“Yes, I see you all right,” guffawed the fish, “that’s just it! I see you too well. Why you tumble about as awkwardly as a water buffalo wallowing in a mud puddle!”Now, as Mr. Li had always considered himself an expert in water sports, he was, by this time, speechless with rage, and all he could do was to paddle feebly round and round with strokes just strong enough to keep himself from sinking.“Then, too,” continued the fish, more and more calm as the other lost his temper, “you have a very poor arrangement for breathing. If I am not mistaken, at the bottom of this pond you would find yourself worse off than I should be at the top of a palm tree. What would you do to keep yourself from starving? Do you think it would be convenient if you had to flop yourself out on to the land every time you wanted a bite to eat? And yet, being a man, I doubt seriously if you would be content to take the proper food for fishes. You have hardly a single feature that would make you contented if you were to join an under-water school. Look at your clothes, too, water-soaked and heavy. Do you think them suitable to protect you from cold and sickness? Nature forgot to give you any scales. Now I’m going to tell you a joke, so you must be sure to laugh. Fishes are like grocery shops—always judged by their scales. As you haven’t a sign of a scale, how will people judge you? See the point, eh? Nature gave you a skin, but forgot the outer covering, except, perhaps at the ends of your fingers and your toes You surely see by this time why I consider your idea ridiculous?”Sure enough, in spite of his recent severe attack of fever, Mr. Li had really cooled completely off. He had never understood before what great disadvantages there were connected with being a man. Why not make use of this chance acquaintance, find out from him how to get rid of that miserable possession he had called his manhood, and gain the delights that only a fish can have? “Then, are you indeed contented with your lot?” he asked finally. “Are there not moments when you would prefer to be a man?”“I, a man!” thundered the other, lashing the water with his tail. “How dare you suggest such a disgraceful change! Can it be that you do not know my rank? Why, my fellow, you behold in me a favourite nephew of the king!”“Then, may it please your lordship,” said Mr. Li, softly, “I should be exceedingly grateful if you would speak a kind word for me to your master. Do you think it possible that he could change me in some manner into a fish and accept me as a subject?”“Of course!” replied the other, “all things are possible to the king. Know you not that my sovereign is a loyal descendant of the great water dragon, and, as such, can never die, but lives on and on and on, for ever and ever and ever, like the ruling house of Japan?”“Oh, oh!” gasped Mr. Li, “even the Son of Heaven, our most worshipful emperor, cannot boast of such long years. Yes, I would give my fortune to be a follower of your imperial master.”“Then follow me,” laughed the other, starting off at a rate that made the water hiss and boil for ten feet around him.Mr. Li struggled vainly to keep up. If he had thought himself a good swimmer, he now saw his mistake and every bit of remaining pride was torn to tatters. “Please wait a moment,” he cried out politely, “I beg of you to remember that I am only a man!”“Pardon me,” replied the other, “it was stupid of me to forget, especially as I had just been talking about it.”Soon they reached a sheltered inlet at the farther side of the pond. There Mr. Li saw a gigantic carp idly floating about in a shallow pool, and then lazily flirting his huge tail or fluttering his fins proudly from side to side. Attendant courtiers darted hither and thither, ready to do the master’s slightest bidding. One of them, splendidly attired in royal scarlet, announced, with a downward flip of the head, the approach of the King’s nephew who was leading Mr. Li to an audience with his Majesty.“Whom have you here, my lad?” began the ruler, as his nephew, hesitating for words to explain his strange request, moved his fins nervously backwards and forwards. “Strange company, it seems to me, you are keeping these days.”“Only a poor man, most royal sir,” replied the other, “who beseeches your Highness to grant him your gracious favour.”“When man asks favour of a fish,‘Tis hard to penetrate his wish—He often seeks a lordly dishTo serve upon his table,”repeated the king, smiling. “And yet, nephew, you think this fellow is really peaceably inclined and is not coming among us as a spy?”Before his friend could answer, Mr. Li had cast himself upon his knees in the shallow water, before the noble carp, and bowed thrice, until his face was daubed with mud from the bottom of the pool. “Indeed, your Majesty, I am only a poor mortal who seeks your kindly grace. If you would but consent to receive me into your school of fishes. I would for ever be your ardent admirer and your lowly slave.”“In sooth, the fellow talks as if in earnest,” remarked the king, after a moment’s reflection, “and though the request is, perhaps, the strangest to which I have ever listened, I really see no reason why I should not turn a fishly ear. But, have the goodness first to cease your bowing. You are stirring up enough mud to plaster the royal palace of a shark.”Poor Li, blushing at the monarch’s reproof, waited patiently for the answer to his request.“Very well, so be it,” cried the king impulsively, “your wish is granted. Sir Trout,” turning to one of his courtiers, “bring hither a fish-skin of proper size for this ambitious fellow.”No sooner said than done. The fish-skin was slipped over Mr. Li’s head, and his whole body was soon tucked snugly away in the scaly coat. Only his arms remained uncovered. In the twinkling of an eye Li felt sharp pains shoot through every part of his body. His arms began to shrivel up and his hands changed little by little until they made an excellent pair of fins, just as good as those of the king himself. As for his legs and feet, they suddenly began to stick together until, wriggle as he would, Li could not separate them. “Ah, ha!” thought he, “my kicking days are over, for my toes are now turned into a first-class tail.”“Not so fast,” laughed the king, as Li, after thanking the royal personage profusely, started out to try his new fins; “not so fast, my friend. Before you depart, perhaps I’d better give you a little friendly advice, else your new powers are likely to land you on the hook of some lucky fisherman, and you will find yourself served up as a prize of the pond.”“I will gladly listen to your lordly counsel, for the words of the Most High to his lowly slave are like pearls before sea slugs. However, as I was once a man myself I think I understand the simple tricks they use to catch us fish, and I am therefore in position to avoid trouble.”“Don’t be so sure about it. ‘A hungry carp often falls into danger,’ as one of our sages so wisely remarked. There are two cautions I would impress upon you. One is, never, never, eat a dangling worm; no matter how tempting it looks there are sure to be horrible hooks inside. Secondly, always swim like lightning if you see a net, but in the opposite direction. Now, I will have you served your first meal out of the royal pantry, but after that, you must hunt for yourself, like every other self-respecting citizen of the watery world.”After Li had been fed with several slugs, followed by a juicy worm for dessert, and after again thanking the king and the king’s nephew for their kindness, he started forth to test his tail and fins. It was no easy matter, at first, to move them properly. A single flirt of the tail, no more vigorous than those he had been used to giving with his legs, would send him whirling round and round in the water, for all the world like a living top; and when he wriggled his fins, ever so slightly, as he thought, he found himself sprawling on his back in a most ridiculous fashion for a dignified member of fishkind. It took several hours of constant practice to get the proper stroke, and then he found he could move about without being conscious of any effort. It was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life; and oh! the water was so cool and delightful! “Would that I might enjoy that endless life the poets write of!” he murmured blissfully.Many hours passed by until at last Li was compelled to admit that, although he was not tired, he was certainly hungry. How to get something to eat? Oh! why had he not asked the friendly nephew a few simple questions? How easily his lordship might have told him the way to get a good breakfast! But alas! without such advice, it would be a whale’s task to accomplish it. Hither and thither he swam, into the deep still water, and along the muddy shore; down, down to the pebbly bottom—always looking, looking for a tempting worm. He dived into the weeds and rushes, poked his nose among the lily pads. All for nothing! No fly or worm of any kind to gladden his eager eyes! Another hour passed slowly away, and all the time his hunger was growing greater and greater. Would the fish god, the mighty dragon, not grant him even one little morsel to satisfy his aching stomach, especially since, now that he was a fish, he had no way of tightening up his belt, as hungry soldiers do when they are on a forced march?Just as Li was beginning to think he could not wriggle his tail an instant longer, and that soon, very soon, he would feel himself slipping, slipping, slipping down to the bottom of the pond to die—at that very moment, chancing to look up, he saw, oh joy! a delicious red worm dangling a few inches above his nose. The sight gave new strength to his weary fins and tail. Another minute, and he would have had the delicate morsel in his mouth, when alas! he chanced to recall the advice given him the day before by great King Carp. “No matter how tempting it looks, there are sure to be horrible hooks inside.” For an instant Li hesitated. The worm floated a trifle nearer to his half-open mouth. How tempting! After all, what was a hook to a fish when he was dying? Why be a coward? Perhaps this worm was an exception to the rule, or perhaps, perhaps any thing—really a fish in such a plight as Mr. Li could not be expected to follow advice—even the advice of a real KING.Pop! He had it in his mouth. Oh, soft morsel, worthy of a king’s desire! Now he could laugh at words of wisdom, and eat whatever came before his eye. But ugh! What was that strange feeling that—Ouch! it was the fatal hook!With one frantic jerk, and a hundred twists and turns, poor Li sought to pull away from the cruel barb that stuck so fast in the roof of his mouth. It was now too late to wish he had kept away from temptation. Better far to have starved at the bottom of the cool pond than to be jerked out by some miserable fisherman to the light and sunshine of the busy world. Nearer and nearer he approached the surface. The more he struggled the sharper grew the cruel barb. Then, with one final splash, he found himself dangling in mid-air, swinging helplessly at the end of a long line. With a chunk he fell into a flat-bottomed boat, directly on top of several smaller fish.“Ah, a carp!” shouted a well-known voice gleefully; “the biggest fish I’ve caught these three moons. What good luck!”It was the voice of old Chang, the fisherman, who had been supplying Mr. Li’s table ever since that official’s arrival in the village of Everlasting Happiness. Only a word of explanation, and he, Li, would be free once more to swim about where he willed. And then there should be no more barbs for him. An escaped fish fears the hook.“I say, Chang,” he began, gasping for breath, “really now, you must chuck me overboard at once, for, don’t you see, I am Mr. Li, your old master. Come, hurry up about it. I’ll excuse you this time for your mistake, for, of course, you had no way of knowing. Quick!”But Chang, with a savage jerk, pulled the hook from Li’s mouth, and looked idly towards the pile of glistening fish, gloating over his catch, and wondering how much money he could demand for it. He had heard nothing of Mr. Li’s remarks, for Chang had been deaf since childhood.“Quick, quick, I am dying for air,” moaned poor Li, and then, with a groan, he remembered the fisherman’s affliction.By this time they had arrived at the shore, and Li, in company with his fellow victims, found himself suddenly thrown into a wicker basket. Oh, the horrors of that journey on land! Only a tiny bit of water remained in the closely-woven thing. It was all he could do to breathe.Joy of joys! At the door of his own house he saw his good friend Sing just coming out. “Hey, Sing,” he shouted, at the top of his voice, “help, help! This son of a turtle wants to murder me. He has me in here with these fish, and doesn’t seem to know that I am Li, his master. Kindly order him to take me to the lake and throw me in, for it’s cool there and I like the water life much better than that on land.”Li paused to hear Sing’s reply, but there came not a single word.“I beg your honour to have a look at my catch,” said old Chang to Sing. “Here is the finest fish of the season. I have brought him here so that you and my honoured master, Mr. Li, may have a treat. Carp is his favourite delicacy.”“Very kind of you, my good Chang, I’m sure, but I fear poor Mr. Li will not eat fish for some time. He has a bad attack of fever.”“There’s where you’re wrong,” shouted Li, from his basket, flopping about with all his might, to attract attention, “I’m going to die of a chill. Can’t you recognise your old friend? Help me out of this trouble and you may have all my money for your pains.”“Hey, what’s that!” questioned Sing, attracted, as usual, by the word money. “Shades of Confucius! It sounds as if the carp were talking.”“What, a talking fish,” laughed Chang. “Why, master, I’ve lived nigh on to sixty year, and such a fish has never come under my sight. There are talking birds and talking beasts for that matter; but talking fish, who ever heard of such a wonder? No, I think your ears must have deceived you, but this carp will surely cause talk when I get him into the kitchen. I’m sure the cook has never seen his like. Oh, master! I hope you will be hungry when you sit down to this fish. What a pity Mr. Li couldn’t help you to devour it!”“Help to devour myself, eh?” grumbled poor Li, now almost dead for lack of water. “You must take me for a cannibal, or some other sort of savage.”Old Chang had now gone round the house to the servants’ quarters, and, after calling out the cook, held up poor Li by the tail for the chef to inspect.With a mighty jerk Li tore himself away and fell at the feet of his faithful cook. “Save me, save me!” he cried out in despair; “this miserable Chang is deaf and doesn’t know that I am Mr. Li, his master. My fish voice is not strong enough for his hearing. Only take me back to the pond and set me free. You shall have a pension for life, wear good clothes and eat good food, all the rest of your days. Only hear me and obey! Listen, my dear cook, listen!”“The thing seems to be talking,” muttered the cook, “but such wonders cannot be. Only ignorant old women or foreigners would believe that a fish could talk.” And seizing his former master by the tail, he swung him on to a table, picked up a knife, and began to whet it on a stone.“Oh, oh!” screamed Li, “you will stick a knife into me! You will scrape off my beautiful shiny scales! You will whack off my lovely new fins! You will murder your old master!”“Well, you won’t talk much longer,” growled the cook, “I’ll show you a trick or two with the blade.”So saying, with a gigantic thrust, he plunged the knife deep into the body of the trembling victim.With a shrill cry of horror and despair, Mr. Li awoke from the deep sleep into which he had fallen. His fever was gone, but he found himself trembling with fear at thought of the terrible death that had come to him in dreamland.“Thanks be to Buddha, I am not a fish!” he cried out joyfully; “and now I shall be well enough to enjoy the feast to which Mr. Sing has bidden guests for to-morrow. But alas, now that I can eat the old fisherman’s prize carp, it has changed back into myself.“If only the good of our dreams came true,I shouldn’t mind dreaming the whole day through.”
The emperor’s favourite horse was shod with gold. It had a golden shoeon each of its feet.And why was this?He was a beautiful creature, with delicate legs, bright intelligent eyes, and a mane that hung down over his neck like a veil. He had carried his master through the fire and smoke of battle, and heard the bullets whistling around him, had kicked, bitten, and taken part in the fight when the enemy advanced, and had sprung with his master on his back over the fallen foe, and had saved the crown of red gold, and the life of the emperor, which was more valuable than the red gold; and that is why the emperor’s horse had golden shoes.And a beetle came crawling forward.“First the great ones,” said he, “and then the little ones; butgreatness is not the only thing that does it.” And so saying, hestretched out his thin legs.“And what do you want?” asked the smith.“Golden shoes, to be sure,” replied the beetle.“Why, you must be out of your senses,” cried the smith. “Do you wantto have golden shoes too?”“Golden shoes? certainly,” replied the beetle. “Am I not as goodas that big creature over there, that is waited on, and brushed, and hasmeat and drink put before him? Don’t I belong to the royal stable?”“But why does the horse have golden shoes? Don’t you understand?” asked the smith.“Understand? I understand that it is a personal insult to me,” cried the beetle. “It is done to annoy me, and so I am going into the world to seek my fortune.”“Go along!” said the smith.“You’re a rude fellow!” cried the beetle; and then he went out of thestable, flew a little way, and soon afterwards found himself in abeautiful flower garden, all fragrant with roses and lavender.“Is it not beautiful here?” asked one of the little lady-birds thatflew about, with their delicate wings and their red-and-black shieldson their backs. “How sweet it is here–how beautiful it is!”“I’m comfortable with better things,” said the beetle. “Do you callthis beautiful? Why, there isn’t even a dung-heap.”Then he went on, under the shadow of a great stack, and found acaterpillar crawling along.“How beautiful the world is!” said the caterpillar: “the sun is sowarm, and everything so enjoyable! And when I go to sleep, and die, asthey call it, I will wake up as a butterfly, with beautiful wings tofly with.”“How conceited you are!” exclaimed the stag-beetle. “Fly about as abutterfly, indeed! I’ve come out of the stable of the emperor, and noone there, not even the emperor’s favourite horse–that by the waywears my cast-off golden shoes–has any such idea. To have wings tofly! why, we can fly now;” and he spread his wings and flew away. “Idon’t want to be annoyed, and yet I am annoyed,” he said, as he flewoff.Soon after he fell down upon a great lawn. For a short time he laythere and pretended to be asleep; at last he fell asleep for real.Suddenly a heavy shower of rain came falling from the clouds. Thebeetle woke up at the noise, and wanted to escape into the earth, butcould not. He was tumbled over and over; sometimes he was swimming onhis stomach, sometimes on his back, and as for flying, that was out ofthe question; he doubted whether he should escape from the place withhis life. He therefore remained lying where he was.When the weather had decreased a little, and the beetle had rubbed thewater out of his eyes, he saw something shining. It was linen thathad been placed there to bleach. He managed to make his way up to it,and crept into a fold of the damp linen. Certainly the place was notas comfortable to lie in as the warm stable; but there was no betterto be had, and therefore he remained lying there for a whole day and awhole night, and the rain kept on during all the time. Towards morninghe crept forth: he was very much cross about the climate.Two frogs were sitting on the linen. Their bright eyes shined with pleasure.“Wonderful weather this!” one of them cried. “How refreshing! And thelinen keeps the water together so beautifully. My hind legs seem toshake as if I were going to swim.”“I should like to know,” said the second, “if the swallow, who fliesso far round, in her trips journeys in foreign lands ever sees abetter climate than this. What delicious dampness! It is really as ifone were lying in a wet ditch. Whoever does not rejoice in this,certainly does not love his fatherland.”“Have you been in the emperor’s stable?” asked the beetle: “there thedampness is warm and refreshing. That’s the climate for me; but Icannot take it with me on my journey. Is there never a dung-heap, herein the garden, where an important person, like myself, can feel himselfat home, and take up his quarters?”But the frogs either did not or would not understand him.“I never ask a question twice!” said the beetle, after he had alreadyasked this one three times without receiving any answer.Then he went a little farther, and stumbled against a fragment ofpottery, that certainly ought not to have been lying there; but as itwas there, it gave a good shelter against wind and weather. Heredwelt several families of earwigs; and these did not require much,only socialization. The female members of the community were all full of pure maternal affection, and each one considered her ownchild the most beautiful and cleverest of all.“Our son has engaged himself,” said one mother. “Dear, innocent boy!His greatest hope is that he may creep one day into a priest’s ear.It’s very plain that; and being engaged will keep himsteady. What joy for a mother!”“Our son,” said another mother, “had scarcely crept out of the egg,when he was already off on his travels. He’s all life and spirits;he’ll run his horns off! What joy that is for a mother! Is it not so,Mr. Beetle?” for she recognized the stranger by his horny coat.“You are both quite right,” said he; so they begged him to walk in;that is to say, to come as far as he could under the bit of pottery.“Now, you also see my little earwig,” observed a third mother and afourth; “they are lovely little things, and highly amusing. They arenever ill-behaved, except when they are uncomfortable in their inside;but, unfortunately, one is very subject to that at their age.”Then each mother spoke of her baby; and the babies talked amongthemselves, and made use of the little nippers they have in theirtails to nip the beard of the beetle.“Yes, they are always busy about something, the little rogues!” saidthe mothers; and they quite beamed with maternal pride; but the beetlefelt bored by that, and therefore he inquired how far it was to thenearest muck-heap.“That is quite out in the big world, on the other side of the ditch,”answered an earwig. “I hope none of my children will go so far, for itwould be the death of me.”“But I will try to get as far,” said the beetle; and he went offwithout taking formal leave; for that is considered the polite thingto do. And by the ditch he met several friends; beetles, all of them.“Here we live,” they said. “We are very comfortable here. Might we askyou to step down into this rich mud? You must be tired after yourjourney.”“Certainly,” replied the beetle. “I have been exposed to the rain, andhave had to lie upon linen, and being clean is a thing that greatlyexhausts me. I have also pains in one of my wings, from standing in adraught under a fragment of pottery. It is really quite refreshing tobe among one’s companions once more.”“Perhaps you come from some muck-heap?” said the oldest of them.“Indeed, I come from a much higher place,” replied the beetle. “I camefrom the emperor’s stable, where I was born with golden shoes on myfeet. I am travelling on a secret mission. You must not ask me anyquestions as or I can’t betray my secret.”With this the beetle stepped down into the rich mud. There sat threeyoung maiden beetles; and they giggled, because they did not knowwhat to say.“Not one of them is engaged yet,” said their mother; and the beetlemaidens giggled again, this time from embarrassment.“I have never seen greater beauties in the royal stables,” exclaimedthe beetle, who was now resting himself.“Don’t spoil my girls,” said the mother; “and don’t talk to them,please, unless you have serious intentions. But of course yourintentions are serious, and therefore I give you my blessing.”“Hurrah!” cried all the other beetles together; and our friend wasengaged. Immediately after the engagement came the marriage, for therewas no reason for delay.The next day passed very pleasantly, and the next in tolerablecomfort; but on the third it was time to think of food for the wife,and perhaps also for children.“I have allowed myself to be taken in,” said our beetle to himself.“And now there’s nothing for it but to take them in, in turn.”So said, so done. Away he went, and he stayed away all day, and stayedaway all night; and his wife sat there, a forsaken widow.“Oh,” said the other beetles, “this fellow we received into ourfamily is nothing more than a thorough wander. He has gone away, andhas left his wife as our burden.”“Well, then, she shall be unmarried again, and sit here among mydaughters,” said the mother. “Fie on the villain who forsook her!”In the meantime the beetle had been journeying on, and had sailedacross the ditch on a cabbage leaf. In the morning two persons came tothe ditch. When they saw him, they took him up, and turned him overand over, and looked very learned, especially one of them–a boy.“Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone and in the black rock.Is not that written in the Koran?” Then he translated the beetle’sname into Latin, and spoke about the creature’s nature and history.The second person, an older scholar, voted for carrying him home. Hesaid they wanted just such good specimens; and this seemed an uncivilspeech to our beetle, and as a result he flew suddenly out of thespeaker’s hand. As he had now dry wings, he flew a manageable distance,and reached a hot-bed, where a sash of the glass roof was partly open,so he quietly slipped in and buried himself in the warm earth.“Very comfortable it is here,” said he.Soon after he went to sleep, and dreamed that the emperor’s favouritehorse had fallen, and had given him his golden shoes, with the promisethat he should have two more.That was all very charming. When the beetle woke up, he crept forthand looked around him. What splendour was in the hothouse! In thebackground great palm trees growing up on high; the sun made them looktransparent; and beneath them what a luxuriance of green, and ofbeaming flowers, red as fire, yellow as amber, or white asfresh-fallen snow.“This is an incomparable amount of plants” cried the beetle. “Howgood they will taste when they are rotted! A capital store-room this!There must certainly be relations of mine living here. I will just seeif I can find anyone with whom I may connect. I’m proud, certainly,and I’m proud of being so.” And so he prowled about in the earth, andthought what a pleasant dream that was about the dying horse, and thegolden shoes he had received.Suddenly a hand seized the beetle, and pressed him, and turned himround and round.The gardener’s little son and a companion had come to the hot-bed, hadspotted the beetle, and wanted to have their fun with him. First he waswrapped in a vine leaf, and then put into a warm trouser pocket. Hescrambled and scraped about there with all his might; but he got agood pressing from the boy’s hand for this, which served as a hint tohim to stay quiet. Then the boy went quickly towards the great lakeat the end of the garden. Here the beetle was put in an oldbroken wooden shoe, on which a little stick was placed upright for amast, and to this mast the beetle was bound with a wool thread. Nowhe was a sailor, and had to sail away.The lake was not very large, but to the beetle it seemed an ocean; andhe was so astonished at its extent, that he fell over on his back andkicked out with his legs.The little ship sailed away. The current of the water seized it; butwhenever it went too far from the shore, one of the boys turned uphis trousers and went in after it, and brought it back to the land.But at length, just as it went merrily out again, the two boys werecalled away very harshly, so that they hurried to obey, ran away from the lake, and left the little ship to its fate. It drove away from the shore, farther and farther into the open sea: it was terrible work for the beetle, for he could not get away away as he was bound to the mast.Then a fly came and paid him a visit.“What beautiful weather!” said the fly. “I’ll rest here, and sunmyself. You have an agreeable time of it.”“You speak without knowing the facts,” replied the beetle. “Don’t yousee that I’m a prisoner?”“Ah! but I’m not a prisoner,” observed the fly; and he flew away.“Well, now I know the world,” said the beetle to himself. “It is anterrible world. I’m the only honest person in it. First, they refuseme my golden shoes; then I have to lie on wet linen, and to stand inthe draught; and, to top all, they fasten a wife upon me. Then, whenI’ve taken a quick step out into the world, and found out how one canhave it there, and how I wished to have it, one of those human boyscomes and ties me up, and leaves me to the mercy of the wild waves,while the emperor’s favourite horse prances about proudly in goldenshoes. That is what annoys me more than all. But one must not look forsympathy in this world! My career has been very interesting; butwhat’s the use of that, if nobody knows it? The world does not deserveto be made acquainted with my history, for it ought to have given megolden shoes, when the emperor’s horse was shod, and I stretched outmy feet to be shod too. If I had received golden shoes, I should havebecome an ornament to the stable. Now the stable has lost me, and theworld has lost me. It is all over!”But all was not over yet. A boat, in which there were a few younggirls, came rowing up.“Look, yonder is an old wooden shoe sailing along,” said one of thegirls.“There’s a little creature bound fast to it,” said another.The boat came quite close to our beetle’s ship, and the young girlsfished him out of the water. One of them drew a small pair of scissorsfrom her pocket, and cut the thread, without hurting thebeetle; and when she stepped on shore, she put him down on the grass.“Creep, creep–fly, fly–if you can,” she said. “Liberty is asplendid thing.”And the beetle flew up, and straight through the open window of agreat building; there he sank down, tired and exhausted, exactly onthe mane of the emperor’s favourite horse, who stood in the stablewhen he was at home, and the beetle also. The beetle clung fast to themane, and sat there a short time to recover himself.“Here I’m sitting on the emperor’s favourite horse–sitting on himjust like the emperor himself!” he cried. “But what was I saying? Yes,now I remember. That’s a good thought, and quite correct. The smithasked me why the golden shoes were given to the horse. Now I’m quiteclear about the answer. They were given to the horse on my account.”And now the beetle was in a good temper again.“Travelling expands the mind rarely,” said he.The sun’s rays came streaming into the stable, and shone upon him, andmade the place lively and bright.“The world is not so bad, upon the whole,” said the beetle; “but onemust know how to take things as they come.”
Once when the snow lay very deep on the ground and the days were grey with frost, there was great sorrow in an Indian village. A dreadful plague had come upon the place and had carried away many of the people. Neither old nor young were proof against its ravages, and the weak and the strong fell helpless before its power. The people tried every means to get rid of the plague, but they had no success. And they prayed to all their good spirits to help them, but no help came. In the tribe was a young warrior who had lost his parents and all his brothers and sisters because of the dreaded disease. Now his young wife fell sick, and he was in great sorrow, for he thought that she would soon follow his parents into the Land of the Shadows. And so he went about in great fear, not knowing when the end would come.One day he met an old woman in the forest. “Why do you look so sorrowful?” she asked him. “I am sad because my young wife is going to die,” he answered; “the plague will carry her off like the others.”But the old woman said, “There is something that will save your wife from death. Far away in the East is a bird of sweet song which dwells close to the Healing Waters. Go until you find it. It will point you to the spring, the waters of which alone can heal.”And the young man said, “I must find the Healing Waters. Wherever they may be upon the earth, I must find them.” So he went home and said good-bye to his friends, and set out eastward on his quest.All the next day he searched eagerly for the Waters, listening always for the bird of the sweet song. But he found nothing. The snow lay deep in the forest and he moved along with difficulty. He met a rabbit in his path and he said, “Tell me where I shall find the Healing Spring?” But the rabbit scurried away over the snow and made no answer. Then he asked a bear, but he met with the same rebuff. Thus for many days and nights he wandered on, crossing rivers and climbing steep hills, but always without success.Then one day he emerged from the snow country and came to a land where the airs were warmer and where little streams were flowing. Suddenly he came upon the body of a dead man lying across his path. He stopped and buried the body, for he thought that it was not right to leave it lying on the ground for the birds to peck at. That night as he went along in the moonlight he met a Fox in his path. “Hello,” said the Fox. “What are you looking for so late at night in the forest?”And he answered, “I am looking for the bird of the sweet song, who will show me the way to the Healing Waters.” And the Fox said, “I am the spirit of the man you buried yesterday by the forest path, and in return for your kindness to me, I shall do a kindness to you. You have always been good to the animals and the birds, and you have never killed them needlessly, nor when you did not require them for clothing or for food. And you have always been careful of the flowers and the trees, and you have often protected them from harm. So now they want to be good to you, and I am going to guide you. But first you must rest, for you are tired from your long journey.”Then the young man lay down to sleep and the Fox stood guard beside him. As he slept he dreamed. And in his dream he saw his wife pale and thin and worn, and as he looked he heard her singing a song of wonderful melody. Then he heard a waterfall rippling near him and it said, “Seek me, O warrior, and when you find me your wife shall live, for I am the Healing Waters.” In the morning the Fox led him but a short distance through the forest and on the branch of a tree he heard a bird singing a song of wonderful melody, just as he had heard in his dream of the night before. He knew now that this was the bird of the sweet song of which the old woman in the forest had spoken. Then, as he listened, he heard the sound of a waterfall rippling not far away. He searched for it, but he could not find it.And Fox said, “You must seek it; you must not despair; it will not come to you unless you search.” So he searched again, and soon he thought he heard a voice speaking beneath his feet.“Release us,” it called, “set us free and your wife and your people shall be saved.” He seized a sharp stick and dug rapidly into the earth where he had heard the voice. He worked eagerly and quickly, and he had not dug far when the spring gushed forth and boiled upwards carrying to the world its healing power. And the young man knew that at last he had found the cure for his ills. He plunged into the spring and bathed himself in the water, and all his weariness left him and he was strong again.Then the young man molded from the soft earth a large pot. He baked it in the fire until it was quite hard. “Now,” said the Fox spirit, “I will leave you. Your kindness has been rewarded. You will need me no more, for you have found the Healing Waters.” And he disappeared as mysteriously as he had come. The young man filled his clay pot with the sparkling water and hastened back to his home, running through the forest with the speed of the wind, because of his renewed strength.When he reached his native village, the people met him with sad faces, for the plague was still raging and they told him that his young wife was about to pass to the Land of the Shadows. But he hurried to his home, and he forced some of the Healing Waters between his wife’s parched lips, and bathed her hands and her brow until she fell into a deep slumber. He watched by her side until she awoke, and when sleep left her, she was well again. Then, with his Healing Waters he cured all the people in the village, and the cruel plague left them and there was no more sickness in the land. And since that time no plague has spread among his tribe. In this way the Mineral Springs, the places of Healing Waters, came upon the earth, bearing health and happiness wherever they rise, and accompanied always by the songs of birds.
On a beautiful hill near the river Vistula, a company of young countrymen and countrywomen came together to celebrate the harvest-home with music and dancing. There was plenty to eat and drink, and they helped themselves freely. In the midst of the merriment a terrible cry was heard which drowned the music and jovial songs.The young people left off dancing, ran to the spot whence the cry came, and found with horror that an enormous wolf had seized one of the handsomest girls of the village in his mouth, and was dragging her away. The most courageous among the youths followed and soon overtook the wolf; but the furious monster, his mouth foaming with rage, having dropped his prey on the ground, stood over it ready to fight.The men, unarmed and terrified, knew not what to do. Some of them ran home to fetch fire-arms; the rest, quite unnerved, stood aloof, and awaited their return. The wolf, seeing the fear of those who remained, again seized the poor girl, and disappeared with her into the adjoining forest.Fifty years had passed away since the occurrence of this terrible scene. Another feast was being held on the same hill, and an old, grey-headed man approached the merry-makers. The people invited him to join in their revels, but he, gloomy and reserved, sat down to drink the proffered glass of brandy in silence.A peasant, of nearly the same age as the guest, approached, saluted him, and tried to engage him in conversation. The stranger, after looking at him for some time, demanded with emotion: “Is it you, indeed, John?”The countryman then recognised in the stranger his elder brother, who had been lost fifty years before. The wondering peasants soon surrounded the old visitor, who told them how, having been changed into a wolf by a witch, he had carried his betrothed away from that same hill during a harvest-home festival; how he had lived with her in the forest for a year, when she had died.“From that moment,” he continued, “savage and furious, I attacked every one, and destroyed everything I fell in with. The blood I then shed I cannot even now wipe away.”Here he showed them his hands covered with bloodstains.“It is now four years since, again changed to human shape, I have wandered from place to place. I wished to see you all once more—to see the hut and village where I was born, and grew up to be a man. After that—Ah, woe is me! Fly! Fly from me! I shall become a wolf again!”As soon as he had uttered these words, he was changed into a wolf. He howled piteously, rushed past the astonished peasants, and disappeared in the neighbouring forest for ever.A witch, having fallen in love with a young peasant, tried all her magic arts in vain to make him return her affection. At last, offended at his indifference, the furious woman resolved to take a terrible revenge.Meeting him once, she said, “When you next go to the forest for wood, at the first stroke of your axe you shall be changed into a wolf.”The peasant slighting her threats, put his oxen to the wagon and drove to the forest. But no sooner had he struck a tree than the axe fell to the ground. Surprised and terrified he looked at his hands—they were changed into wolf’s paws! Almost maddened with fear and distress, he ran about the forest. He looked into a pool of water, and saw that he was changed into a wolf; only here and there some portion of his clothes remained, the transformation not being yet quite complete. He hastened to his oxen, but they, frightened at the sight of him, turned and ran. He tried to stop them by the sound of his once familiar voice, but instead of speaking he could only howl. Then, alas! with pain and terror he fully understood that the threats of the despised witch were carried into effect.Unable, in spite of the change, to depart from his native place, he wandered about in the neighbourhood. In vain he tried to accustom himself to raw meat; he could not eat it; he had an especial horror of human flesh. In order to obtain food, he used to frighten away the shepherds and harvestmen, and eat their bread, milk, and other provisions.Having spent some years in this manner, he one day felt an unusual desire to sleep, and accordingly laid down in the grass. But what was his surprise, when, on awakening, he perceived that he was again changed into a man. Delighted beyond measure, and forgetting that after breaking the spell, and changing from the state of a wolf to that of a man, people are left without clothes, the happy peasant ran swiftly home.Happiness, they say, does not last long. The truth of this saying the peasant experienced only too soon. On arriving home he found his parents were dead; Kate, the girl whom he had loved before all others, was married, and had four children; most of his friends were either dead or had removed to distant parts.The unfortunate peasant bore his misfortunes bravely. He tried to forget his troubles by the tillage, in the sweat of his brow, of a small piece of land. Sometimes, especially on holidays, he would go to the village public-house, and there, surrounded by his neighbours, would tell the story of his adventures, and the trials he had suffered through the cruel vengeance of the despised witch.A peasant, having been a wolf for seven years, was permitted by the witch who had transformed him to resume his natural shape. Although hungry and without clothes, he walked the whole day to reach his home where he had left his wife and children. He arrived late at night before his hut, and knocked at the door.“Who is there?” demanded a voice from within; and the peasant at once recognised it as that of his wife.“It is I—your husband; open the door, quick!”“Heaven help us!” cried the terrified woman. “Here, husband, get up!”The wondering peasant soon saw before him his former servant, who, having married his wife, had come into all his property. The new husband rushed out of the hut armed with a pitchfork, determined to drive away its rightful owner. The unhappy man-wolf, exasperated at his wife’s inconstancy, cried out in his anguish,—“Oh, that I were again a wolf, that I might punish my faithless wife, and never feel my misery!”His wish was gratified on the instant: he was changed again into a wolf. Maddened with rage, he attacked his wife, who stood by holding a child of the second marriage in her arms. He pulled her down to the ground, devoured the child, and revenged himself upon its mother by mangling her body in a fearful manner.At the cries of the wounded woman the neighbours ran to her assistance and set upon the furious animal. The wolf did not long defend himself; he soon fell beneath the repeated blows of his assailants. When the peasants, shouting with joy at their victory, began to examine the creature by the light of the burning pine splinters, they found to their surprise and horror, that instead of a wolf, they had killed their countryman who was lost seven years before, and was supposed to have been changed into a wolf. They tried to restore him, but it was too late. Whilst they were lamenting his unhappy end, the faithless woman, his wife, died of the wounds she had received.
There was once a King who had three sons. One day the oldest son went hunting and when night fell his huntsmen came riding home without him.“Where is the prince?” the King asked.“Isn’t he here?” the huntsmen said. “He left us in midafternoon chasing a hare near the Old Mill up the river. We haven’t seen him since and we supposed he must have come home alone.”When he hadn’t returned the following day his brother, the second prince, went out to search for him.“I’ll go to the Old Mill,” he said to the King, “and see what’s become of him.”So he mounted his horse and rode up the river. As he neared the Old Mill a hare crossed his path and the second prince being a hunter like his brother at once gave chase. His attendant waited for his return but waited in vain. Night fell and still there was no sign of the second prince.The attendant returned to the palace and told the King what had happened. The King was surprised but not unduly alarmed and the following day when the Youngest Prince asked to go hunting alone the King suggested that he go in the direction of the Old Mill to find out if he could what was keeping his brothers.The Youngest Prince who had listened carefully to what his brothers’ attendants had reported decided to act cautiously. So when a hare crossed his path as he approached the Old Mill, instead of giving it chase, he rode off as though he were hunting other game. Later he returned to the Old Mill from another direction.He found an old woman sitting in front of it.“Good evening, granny,” he said in a friendly tone, pulling up his horse for a moment’s chat. “Do you live here? You know I thought the Old Mill was deserted.”The old woman looked at him and shook her head gloomily.“Deserted indeed! My boy, take an old woman’s advice and don’t have anything to do with this old mill! It’s an evil place!”“Why, granny,” the Prince said, “what’s the matter with it?”The old woman peered cautiously around and when she saw they were alone she beckoned the Prince to come near. Then she whispered:“A dragon lives here! A horrible monster! He takes the form of a hare and lures people into the mill. Then he captures them. Some of them he kills and eats and others he holds as prisoners in an underground dungeon. I’m one of his prisoners and he keeps me here to work for him.”“Granny,” the Youngest Prince said, “would you like me to rescue you?”“My boy, you couldn’t do it! You have no idea what a strong evil monster the dragon is.”“If you found out something for me, granny, I think I might be able to overcome the dragon and rescue you.”The old woman was doubtful but she promised to do anything the Youngest Prince asked.“Well then, granny, find out from the dragon where his strength is, whether in his own body or somewhere else. Find out to-night and I’ll come back to-morrow at this same hour to see you.”So that night when the dragon came home, after he had supped and when she was scratching his head to make him drowsy for bed, the old woman said to him:“Master, I think you’re the strongest dragon in the world! Tell me now, where does your strength lie—in your own beautiful body or somewhere else?”“You’re right, old woman,” the dragon grunted: “I am pretty strong as dragons go. But I don’t keep my strength in my own body. No, indeed! That would be too dangerous. I keep it in the hearth yonder.”At that the old woman ran over to the hearth and, stooping down, she kissed it and caressed it.“O beautiful hearth!” she said, “where my master’s strength is hidden! How happy are the ashes that cover your stones!”The dragon laughed with amusement.“That’s the time I fooled you, old woman! My strength isn’t in the hearth at all! It’s in the tree in front of the mill.”The old woman at once ran out of the mill and threw her arms about the tree.“O tree!” she cried, “most beautiful tree in the world, guard carefully our master’s strength and let no harm come to it!”Again the dragon laughed.“I’ve fooled you another time, old woman! Come here and scratch my head some more and this time I’ll tell you the truth for I see you really love your master.”So the old woman went back and scratched the dragon’s head and the dragon told her the truth about his strength.“I keep it far away,” he said. “In the third kingdom from here near the Tsar’s own city there is a deep lake. A dragon lives at the bottom of the lake. In the dragon there is a wild boar; in the boar a hare; in the hare a pigeon; in the pigeon a sparrow. My strength is in the sparrow. Let any one kill the sparrow and I should die that instant. But I am safe. No one but shepherds ever come to the lake and even they don’t come any more for the dragon has eaten up so many of them that the lake has got a bad name. Indeed, nowadays even the Tsar himself is hard put to it to find a shepherd. Oh, I tell you, old woman, your master is a clever one!”So now the old woman had the dragon’s secret and the next day she told it to the Youngest Prince. He at once devised a plan whereby he hoped to overcome the dragon. He dressed himself as a shepherd and with crook in hand started off on foot for the third kingdom. He traveled through villages and towns, across rivers and over mountains, and reached at last the third kingdom and the Tsar’s own city. He presented himself at the palace and asked employment as a shepherd.The guards looked at him in surprise and said:“A shepherd! Are you sure you want to be a shepherd?”Then they called to their companions: “Here’s a youth who wants to be a shepherd!” And the word went through the palace and even the Tsar heard it.“Send the youth to me,” he ordered.“Do you really want to be my shepherd?” he asked the Youngest Prince.The Youngest Prince said yes, he did.“If I put you in charge of the sheep, where would you pasture them?”“Isn’t there a lake beyond the city,” the Prince asked, “where the grazing is good?”“H’m!” said the Tsar. “So you know about that lake, too! What else do you know?”“I’ve heard the shepherds disappear.”“And still you want to try your luck?” the Tsar exclaimed.Just then the Tsar’s only daughter, a lovely Princess, who had been looking at the young stranger, slipped over to her father and whispered:“But, father, you can’t let such a handsome young man as that go off with the sheep! It would be dreadful if he never returned!”The Tsar whispered back:“Hush, child! Your concern for the young man’s safety does credit to your noble feelings. But this is not the time or the place for sentiment. We must consider first the welfare of the royal sheep.”He turned to the Youngest Prince:“Very well, young man, you may consider yourself engaged as shepherd. Provide yourself with whatever you need and assume your duties at once.”“There is one thing,” the Youngest Prince said; “when I start out to-morrow morning with the sheep I should like to take with me two strong boarhounds, a falcon, and a set of bagpipes.”“You shall have them all,” the Tsar promised.Early the next morning when the Princess peeped out of her bedroom window she saw the new shepherd driving the royal flocks to pasture. A falcon was perched on his shoulder; he had a set of bagpipes under his arm; and he was leading two powerful boarhounds on a leash.“It’s a shame!” the Princess said to herself. “He’ll probably never return and he’s such a handsome young man, too!” And she was so unhappy at thought of never again seeing the new shepherd that she couldn’t go back to sleep.Well, the Youngest Prince reached the lake and turned out his sheep to graze. He perched the falcon on a log, tied the dogs beside it, and laid his bagpipes on the ground. Then he took off his smock, rolled up his hose, and wading boldly into the lake called out in a loud voice:“Ho, dragon, come out and we’ll try a wrestling match! That is, if you’re not afraid!”“Afraid?” bellowed an awful voice. “Who’s afraid?”The water of the lake churned this way and that and a horrible scaly monster came to the surface. He crawled out on shore and clutched the Prince around the waist. And the Prince clutched him in a grip just as strong and there they swayed back and forth, and rolled over, and wrestled together on the shore of the lake without either getting the better of the other. By midafternoon when the sun was hot, the dragon grew faint and cried out:“Oh, if I could but dip my burning head in the cool water, then I could toss you as high as the sky!”“Don’t talk nonsense!” the Prince said. “If the Tsar’s daughter would kiss my forehead, then I could toss you twice as high!”After that the dragon slipped out of the Prince’s grasp, plunged into the water, and disappeared. The Prince waited for him but he didn’t show his scaly head again that day.When evening came, the Prince washed off the grime of the fight, dressed himself carefully, and then looking as fresh and handsome as ever drove home his sheep. With the falcon on his shoulder and the two hounds at his heels he came playing a merry tune on his bagpipes.The townspeople hearing the bagpipes ran out of their houses and cried to each other:“The shepherd’s come back!”The Princess ran to her window and, when she saw the shepherd alive and well, she put her hand to her heart and said:Even the Tsar was pleased.“I’m not a bit surprised that he’s back!” he said. “There’s something about this youth that I like!”The next day the Tsar sent two of his trusted servants to the lake to see what was happening there. They hid themselves behind some bushes on a little hill that commanded the lake. They were there when the shepherd arrived and they watched him as he waded out into the water and challenged the dragon as on the day before.They heard the shepherd call out in a loud voice:“Ho, dragon, come out and we’ll try a wrestling match! That is, if you’re not afraid!”And from the water they heard an awful voice bellow back:“Afraid? Who’s afraid?”Then they saw the water of the lake churn this way and that and a horrible scaly monster come to the surface. They saw him crawl out on shore and clutch the shepherd around the waist. And they saw the shepherd clutch him in a grip just as strong. And they watched the two as they swayed back and forth and rolled over and wrestled together without either getting the better of the other. By midafternoon when the sun grew hot they saw the dragon grow faint and they heard him cry out:“Oh, if I could only dip my burning head in the cool water, then I could toss you as high as the sky!”And they heard the shepherd reply:“Don’t talk nonsense! If the Tsar’s daughter would kiss my forehead, then I could toss you twice as high!”Then they saw the dragon slip out of the shepherd’s grasp, plunge into the water, and disappear. They waited but he didn’t show his scaly head again that day.So the Tsar’s servants hurried home before the shepherd and told the Tsar all they had seen and heard. The Tsar was mightily impressed with the bravery of the shepherd and he declared that if he killed that horrid dragon he should have the Princess herself for wife!He sent for his daughter and told her all that his servants had reported and he said to her:“My daughter, you, too, can help rid your country of this monster if you go out with the shepherd to-morrow and when the time comes kiss him on the forehead. You will do this, will you not, for your country’s sake?”The Princess blushed and trembled and the Tsar, looking at her in surprise, said:“What! Shall a humble shepherd face a dragon unafraid and the daughter of the Tsar tremble!”“Father,” the Princess cried, “it isn’t the dragon that I’m afraid of!”“What then?” the Tsar asked.But what it was she was afraid of the Princess would not confess. Instead she said:“If the welfare of my country require that I kiss the shepherd on the forehead, I shall do so.”So the next morning when the shepherd started out with his sheep, the falcon on his shoulder, the dogs at his heels, the bagpipes under his arm, the Princess walked beside him.Her eyes were downcast and he saw that she was trembling.“Do not be afraid, dear Princess,” he said to her. “Nothing shall harm you—I promise that!”“I’m not afraid,” the Princess murmured. But she continued to blush and tremble and, although the shepherd tried to look into her eyes to reassure her, she kept her head averted.This time the Tsar himself and many of his courtiers had gone on before and taken their stand on the hill that overlooked the lake to see the final combat of the shepherd and the dragon.When the shepherd and the Princess reached the lake, the shepherd put his falcon on the log as before and tied the dogs beside it and laid his bagpipes on the ground. Then he threw off his smock, rolled up his hose, and wading boldly into the lake called out in a loud voice:“Ho, dragon, come out and we’ll try a wrestling match! That is, if you’re not afraid!”“Afraid?” bellowed an awful voice. “Who’s afraid?”The water of the lake churned this way and that and the horrible scaly monster came to the surface. He crawled to shore and clutched the shepherd around the waist. The shepherd clutched him in a grip just as strong and there they swayed back and forth and rolled over and wrestled together on the shore of the lake without either getting the better of the other. The Princess without the least show of fear stood nearby calling out encouragement to the shepherd and waiting for the moment when the shepherd should need her help.By midafternoon when the sun was hot, the dragon grew faint and cried out:“Oh, if I could but dip my burning head in the cool water, then I could toss you as high as the sky!”“Don’t talk nonsense!” the shepherd said. “If the Tsar’s daughter would kiss my forehead then I could toss you twice as high!”Instantly the Princess ran forward and kissed the shepherd three times. The first kiss fell on his forehead, the second on his nose, the third on his mouth. With each kiss his strength increased an hundredfold and taking the dragon in a mighty grip he tossed him up so high that for a moment the Tsar and all the courtiers lost sight of him in the sky. Then he fell to earth with such a thud that he burst.Out of his body sprang a wild boar. The shepherd was ready for this and on the moment he unleashed the two hounds and they fell on the boar and tore him to pieces.Out of the boar jumped a rabbit. It went leaping across the meadow but the dogs caught it and killed it.Out of the rabbit flew a pigeon. Instantly the shepherd unloosed the falcon. It rose high in the air, then swooped down upon the pigeon, clutched it in its talons, and delivered it into the shepherd’s hands.He cut open the pigeon and found the sparrow.“Spare me! Spare me!” squawked the sparrow.“Tell me where my brothers are,” the shepherd demanded with his fingers about the sparrow’s throat.“Your brothers? They are alive and in the deep dungeon that lies below the Old Mill. Behind the mill there are three willow saplings growing from one old root. Cut the saplings and strike the root. A heavy iron door leading down into the dungeon will open. In the dungeon you will find many captives old and young, your brothers among them. Now that I have told you this are you going to spare my life?”But the shepherd wrung the sparrow’s neck for he knew that only in that way could the monster who had captured his brothers be killed.Well, now that the dragon was dead the Tsar and all his courtiers came down from the hill and embraced the shepherd and told him what a brave youth he was.“You have delivered us all from a horrid monster,” the Tsar said, “and to show you my gratitude and the country’s gratitude I offer you my daughter for wife.”“Thank you,” said the shepherd, “but I couldn’t think of marrying the Princess unless she is willing to marry me.”The Princess blushed and trembled just as she had blushed and trembled the night before and that morning, too, on the way to the lake. She tried to speak but could not at first. Then in a very little voice she said:“As a Princess I think it is my duty to marry this brave shepherd who has delivered my country from this terrible dragon, and—and I think I should want to marry him anyway.”She said the last part of her speech in such a very low voice that only the shepherd himself heard it. But that was right enough because after all it was intended only for him.So then and there beside the lake before even the shepherd had time to wash his face and hands and put on his smock the Tsar put the Princess’s hand in his hand and pronounced them betrothed.After that the shepherd bathed in the lake and then refreshed and clean he sounded his bagpipes and he and the Princess and the Tsar and all the courtiers returned to the city driving the sheep before them.All the townspeople came out to meet them and they danced to the music of the bagpipes and there was great rejoicing both over the death of the dragon and over the betrothal of the Princess and the brave shepherd.The wedding took place at once and the wedding festivities lasted a week. Such feasting as the townspeople had! Such music and dancing!When the wedding festivities were ended, the shepherd told the Tsar who he really was.“You say you’re a Prince!” the Tsar cried, perfectly delighted at this news. Then he declared he wasn’t in the least surprised. In fact, he said, he had suspected as much from the first!“Do you think it likely,” he asked somewhat pompously, “that any daughter of mine would fall in love with a man who wasn’t a prince?”“I think I’d have fallen in love with you whatever you were!” whispered the Princess to her young husband. But she didn’t let her father hear her!The Prince told the Tsar about his brothers’ captivity and how he must go home to release them, and the Tsar at once said that he and his bride might go provided they returned as soon as possible.They agreed to this and the Tsar fitted out a splendid escort for them and sent them away with his blessing.So the Prince now traveled back through the towns and villages of three kingdoms, across rivers and over mountains, no longer a humble shepherd on foot, but a rich and mighty personage riding in a manner that befitted his rank.When he reached the deserted mill, his friend the old woman was waiting for him.“I know, my Prince, you have succeeded for the monster has disappeared.”“Yes, granny, you are right: I have succeeded. I found the dragon in the lake, and the boar in the dragon, and the rabbit in the boar, and the pigeon in the rabbit, and the sparrow in the pigeon. I took the sparrow and killed it. So you are free now, granny, to return to your home. And soon all those other poor captives will be free.”He went behind the mill and found the three willow saplings. He cut them off and struck the old root. Sure enough a heavy iron door opened. This led down into a deep dungeon which was crowded with unfortunate prisoners. The Prince led them all out and sent them their various ways. He found his own two brothers among them and led them home to his father.There was great rejoicing in the King’s house, and in the King’s heart, too, for he had given up hope of ever seeing any of his sons again.The King was so charmed with the Princess that he said it was a pity that she couldn’t marry his oldest son so that she might one day be Queen.“The Youngest Prince is a capable young man,” the King said, “and there’s no denying that he managed this business of killing the dragon very neatly. But he is after all only the Youngest Prince with very little hope of succeeding to the kingdom. If you hadn’t married him in such haste one of his older brothers might easily have fallen in love with you.”“I don’t regret my haste,” the Princess said. “Besides he is now my father’s heir. But that doesn’t matter for I should be happy with the Youngest Prince if he were only a shepherd.”
Thor was the strong god. So strong was he that he could crush mountains with one blow of his hammer.His eyes shone like fire. When he drove in his chariot, the sound could be heard all over the earth. When he struck with his terrible hammer fire streamed through the sky.On one hand he wore an iron glove to grasp the hammer. Around his waist was a belt. Every time he tightened the belt his strength was redoubled.If he had crossed the rainbow bridge it would have fallen down. So every day he waded through four rivers to go to the council of the gods.Thor was usually as good-natured as he was strong. But sometimes he had sudden attacks of anger. Then he drove furiously in his chariot, striking in every direction with his hammer. Sometimes he did damage which, with all his strength, he could never repair.Very often Thor did kind things. Once the dwarf, Orvandal, did not go into his home in the ground when the frost giants were in the land. They caught him and took him to Jotunheim.Thor waded across the ice-cold river, Elivagar, to the land of the giants, and brought Orvandal back in a basket. When they were nearly across, Orvandal put one toe outside and it was bitten off by the frost giants.Thor liked nothing, better than to go on long journeys, seeking adventures.Once he set out in his chariot drawn by goats. Loke, the cunning, went with him.Night came. Thor made himself no larger than a man, and asked to stay all night in a poor man’s hut by the seashore.The man welcomed them. Thor killed his goats, and the poor man’s wife cooked them.When nothing was left but the bones, Thor told the children to put them all into the skins on the floor. But one of the boys broke a bone to get the marrow.At dawn the next day, Thor touched the bones with his hammer, and the goats sprang up alive. But one of them was lame. When the family saw the bones changed into living goats, they were very much frightened.Thor was angry because the goat was lame and grasped his hammer so tightly that his knuckles grew white. At first he meant to kill the whole family, but after he thought, he only took away two of the children for servants.They crossed the ocean that day and found a forest on the other side.When it grew dark they went into a cave to sleep. In the cave there were five small rooms and one large one. All night they heard a great rumbling noise.Early in the morning when they went out, they found an immense giant sleeping on the ground. The noise they had heard was the giant’s breathing, and the cave was his glove.When Thor saw him, he tightened his belt of strength and grasped his hammer. But just then the giant awoke and stood up. His great height so amazed Thor that he forgot to strike and only asked the giant’s name.The giant replied that he was Skrymer. Then he asked to go along with Thor. Thor said he might, and they all sat upon the ground to eat breakfast.After breakfast, the giant put Thor’s provision sack into his own and carried both. All that day he strode in front and Thor followed.At night they stopped. The giant drank a small brook dry; and at once lay down on the ground and fell asleep.Thor found that he could not untie the sack. At this he was very angry.He tightened his belt and went out where the giant lay. He swung his hammer above his head and struck the giant’s forehead with all his strength.The giant awoke and rubbed his eyes. Then he said sleepily, “I think a leaf must have fallen upon me.” With that he fell asleep again.Thor and the others lay down without any food, and the giant snored so that they could not sleep.Again Thor arose. He tightened his belt twice and struck the giant a harder blow than the first. The giant only stirred and muttered, “This must be an oak-tree, for an acorn has fallen upon my forehead.”Thor hurried away and waited until the giant once more slept soundly. Then he went softly, and struck him so hard that the hammer sank into his head.This time the giant sat up and looked around him. Seeing Thor, he said, “I think there are squirrels in this tree. See, a nutshell has fallen and scratched my forehead.”“But make ready to go now. We are near the palace of Utgard.”“You see how large I am. In Utgard’s palace I am thought small. If you go there do not boast of your strength.”With that, he directed Thor to the palace, and went away northward.At noon they saw a palace so high that they had to bend back their heads to see the top of it.The gate was locked. So they crept in through the bars, and went from room to room until they came to the hall where sat Utgard with his men around him.For some time he pretended not to see Thor. Then with a loud laugh he said, “Ho! ho! who is this little creature?” Without waiting for a reply, he cried, “Why, I believe it is Thor of whom we have heard.”Then speaking to Thor for the first time, he said. “Well, little man, what can you do? No one is allowed here unless he can do something.”Loke, who was quicker than Thor, said, “I can eat faster than any one here.” Then Utgard said, “Truly that is something. We will see if you have spoken the truth.”The giants brought in a trough filled with meat. Utgard called Loge, one of his men, to contend with Loke.Loke and Loge met at the middle of the trough. But Loke had only eaten the meat, while Loge had eaten, meat, bones, and trough. So Loke was beaten.Then Utgard asked what Thjalfe, the boy Thor had taken from the seashore, could do. Thjalfe replied that he could outrun any man there.Utgard called a little fellow whose name was Huge. Huge so far outran Thjalfe that he turned back and met him half-way.Utgard said: “You are the best runner that ever came here, but you must run more swiftly to outrun Huge.”Then Thor was asked in what he wished to contend. He answered: “In drinking.”Utgard sent the cup-bearer to bring his great drinking-horn.When Thor took the horn in his hand, Utgard said: “Most of the men here empty it at one draught. Some empty it at two draughts. But no one ever takes three.” Thor put the horn to his lips and drank deep and long. When he was out of breath, he lowered the horn. To his surprise very little of the water was gone. Utgard said: “I should have thought Thor could drink more at a draught.” Thor did not reply, but drank again as long as he had any breath. This time enough was gone so that the horn could be carried easily without spilling any of the water.Utgard said: “Have you not left too much for the third draught?” Thor became angry. He put the horn to his lips and drank until his head swam, and his ears rang, and fire floated before his eyes. But the horn was not nearly empty, and he would not try again. Then Utgard said: “Will you try something else?” Thor replied that he would. Utgard said: “We have a little game here that the younger children play. The young men think nothing of lifting my cat. I would not propose it to you if you had not failed in drinking.” The cat ran in, and Thor did his best. But he could only lift one paw from the ground. Then he called for some one to wrestle with him, but Utgard said the men would think it beneath them to wrestle with Thor. Then he called his old nurse, Elle, to wrestle with him. The tighter Thor gripped the old woman, the firmer she stood. Soon he was thrown on one knee, and Utgard sent the old woman away. The next morning at dawn, Thor and Loke and the two children prepared to go away. Utgard gave them breakfast and went a little way with them. When he was ready to go back, he asked Thor how he liked his visit. Thor replied that he had done himself dishonor. At this Utgard said: “I will tell you the truth now that we are out of my palace. You shall never come into it again. If I had known your strength you should not have come this time. “In the forest it was I you met. If I had not held a mountain between your hammer and my head, you would have killed me. There is the mountain. The three caves you see were made by the three blows of your hammer. “One end of the drinking-horn stood in the sea. When you come to the shore you will see how much water is gone. “What you took for a cat was the great Midgard Serpent which encircles the earth and holds its tail in its mouth. The nurse was old age. No one can resist her.” Hearing this, Thor raised his hammer to strike. But Utgard and the palace vanished and left only a grassy plain.Here amid icebergsRule I the nations;This is my hammer,Miolner the mighty;Giants and sorcerersCannot withstand it!These are the gauntletsWherewith I wield it,And hurl it afar off;This is my girdle;Whenever I brace it,Strength is redoubled!The light thou beholdestStream through the heavensIn flashes of crimson,Is but my red beardBlown by the night-wind,Affrighting the nations!Jove is my brother;Mine eyes are the lightning ;The wheels of my chariotRoll in the thunder,The blows of my hammerRing in the earthquake!—Longfellow.
Gimme the Ax lived in a house where everything is the same as it always was. “The chimney sits on top of the house and lets the smoke out,” said Gimme the Ax. “The doorknobs open the doors. The windows arealways either open or shut. We are always either upstairs or downstairs in this house. Everything is the same as it always was.”So he decided to let his children name themselves.“The first words they speak as soon as they learn to make words shall be their names,” he said. “They shall name themselves.When the first boy came to the house of Gimme the Ax, he was named Please Gimme. When the first girl came she was named Ax Me No Questions. And both of the children had the shadows of valleys by night in their eyes and the lights of early morning, when the sun is coming up, on their foreheads. And the hair on top of their heads was a dark wild grass. And they loved to turn the doorknobs, open the doors, and run out to have the wind comb their hair and touch their eyes and put its six soft fingers on their foreheads.And then because no more boys came and no more girls came, Gimme the Ax said to himself, “My first boy is my last and my last girl is my first and they picked their names themselves.”Please Gimme -grew up and his ears got longer. Ax Me No Questions grew up and her ears got longer. And they kept on living in the house where everything is the same as it always was. They learned to say just as their father said, “The chimney sits on top of the house and lets the smoke out, the doorknobs open the doors, the windows are always either open or shut, we are always either upstairs or downstairs everything is the same as it always was.”After a while they began asking each other in the cool of the evening after they had eggs for breakfast in the morning, “Who’s who? How much? And what’s the answer?”“It is too much to be too long anywhere,” said the tough old man, Gimme the Ax.And Please Gimme and Ax Me No Questions, the tough son and the tough daughterof Gimme the Ax, answered their father, “It is too much to be too long any where.”So they sold everything they had, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, everythingexcept their ragbags and a few extras.vWhen their neighbors saw them selling everything they had, the different neighbors said, “They are going to Kansas, to Kokomo, to Canada, to Kankakee, to Kalamazoo, to Kamchatka, to the Chattahoochee.”One little sniffer with his eyes half shut and a mitten on his nose, laughed in his hat five waysand said, “They are going to the moon and when they get there they will find everything is the same as it always was.”All the spot cash money he got for selling everything, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, Gimme the Ax put in a ragbag and slung on his back like a rag picker going home.Then he took Please Gimme, his oldest and youngest and only son, and Ax Me No Questions, his oldest and youngest and only daughter, and went to the railroad station. The ticket agent was sitting at the window selling railroad tickets the same as always.He opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money“Do you wish a ticket to go away and come back or do you wish a ticket to go away and never come back?” the ticket agent asked wiping sleep out of his eyes.“We wish a ticket to ride where the railroad tracks run off into the sky and never come back send us far as the railroad rails go and then forty ways farther yet,” was the reply of Gimme the Ax.“So far? So early? So soon?” asked the ticket agent wiping more sleep out his eyes. “Then I will give you a new ticket. It blew in. It is a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.”Gimme the Ax thanked the ticket agent once, thanked the ticket agent twice, and then instead of thanking the ticket agent three times, he opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money he got for selling everything, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, and paid the spot cash money to the ticket agent.“He opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money.” Illustration by Maud and Miska Petersham. Published in Rootabaga Stories. 1922. Harcourt, Brace and Company.Before he put it in his pocket he looked once, twice, three times at the long yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it. Then with Please Gimme and Ax Me No Questions he got on the railroad train, showed the conductor his ticket and they started to ride to where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky and then forty ways farther yet.The train ran on and on. It came to the place where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky. And it ran on and on chick chick- a-chick chick-a-chick chick-a-chick. Sometimes the engineer hooted and tooted the whistle. Sometimes the fireman rang the bell. Sometimes the open-and-shut of the steam hog’s nose choked and spit pfisty-pfoost, pfisty-pfoost, pfisty-pfoost. But no matter what happened to the whistle and the bell and the steam hog, the train ran on and on to where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky.And then it ran on and on more and more.Sometimes Gimme the Ax looked in his pocket, put his fingers in and took out the long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.“Not even the Kings of Egypt with all their climbing camels, and all their speedy, spotted, lucky lizards, ever had a ride like this,” he said to his children.Then something happened. They met another train running on the same track. One train was going one way. The other was going the other way. They met. They passed each other.“What was it what happened?” the children asked their father.“One train went over, the other train went under,” he answered. “This is the Over and Under country. Nobody gets out of the way of anybody else. They either go over or under.”Next they came to the country of the balloon pickers. Hanging down from the sky strung on strings so fine the eye could not see them at first, was the balloon crop of that summer. The sky was thick with balloons. Red, blue, yellow balloons, white, purple and orange balloons peach, watermelon and potato balloons rye loaf and wheat loaf balloons link sausage and pork chop balloons they floated and filled the sky.The balloon pickers were walking on high stilts picking balloons. Each picker had his own stilts, long or short. For picking balloons near the ground he had short stilts. If he wanted to pick far and high he walked on a far and high pair of stilts.Baby pickers on baby stilts were picking baby balloons. When they fell off the stilts, the handful of balloons they were holding kept them in the air till they got their feet into the stilts again.“Who is that away up there in the sky climbing like a bird in the morning?” Ax Me No Questions asked her father.“He was singing too happy,” replied the father. “The songs came out of his neck and made him so light the balloons pulled him off his stilts.”“Will he ever come down again back to his own people?”“Yes, his heart will get heavy when his songs are all gone. Then he will drop down to his stilts again.”The train was running on and on. The engineer hooted and tooted the whistle when he felt like it. The fireman rang the bell when he felt that way. And sometimes the open-and-shut of the steam hog had to go pfisty- pfoost, pfisty-pfoost.“Next is the country where the circus clowns come from,” said Gimme the Ax to his son and daughter. “Keep your eyes open.”They did keep their eyes open. They saw cities with ovens, long and short ovens, fat stubby ovens, lean lank ovens, all for baking either long or short clowns, or fat and stubby or lean and lank clowns.After each clown was baked in the oven it was taken out into the sunshine and put up to stand like a big white doll with a red mouth leaning against the fence.Two men came along to each baked clown standing still like a doll. One man threw a bucket of white fire over it. The second man pumped a wind pump with a living red wind through the red mouth.The clown rubbed his eyes, opened his mouth, twisted his neck, wiggled his ears, wriggled his toes, jumped away from the fence and began turning handsprings, cartwheels, somersaults and flipflops in the sawdust ring near the fence.“The next we come to is the Rootabaga Country where the big city is the Village of Liver-and-Onions,” said Gimme the Ax, looking again in his pocket to be sure he had the long slick yellow leather slab ticket with ablue spanch across it.The train ran on and on till it stopped running straight and began running in zigzags like one letter Z put next to another Z and the next and the next. The tracks and the rails and the ties and the spikes under the train all stopped being straight and changed to zigzags like one letter Z and another letter Z put next after the other.“It seems like we go half way and then back up,” said Ax Me No Questions.“Look out of the window and see if the pigs have bibs on,” said Gimme the Ax. “If the pigs are wearing bibs then this is the Rootabaga country.”And they looked out of the zigzagging windows of the zigzagging cars and the first pigs they saw had bibs on. And the next pigs and the next pigs they saw all had bibs on. The checker pigs had checker bibs on, thestriped pigs had striped bibs on. And the polka dot pigs had polka dot bibs on.“Who fixes it for the pigs to have bibs on?” Please Gimme asked his father.“The fathers and mothers fix it,” answered Gimme the Ax. “The checker pigs have checker fathers and mothers. The striped pigs have striped fathers and mothers. And the polka dot pigs have polka dot fathers and mothers.”And the train went zigzagging on and on running on the tracks and the rails and the spikes and the ties which were all zigzag like the letter Z and the letter Z.And after a while the train zigzagged on into the Village of Liver-and-Onions, known as the biggest city in the big, big Rootabaga country.And so if you are going to the Rootabaga country you will know when you get there be- cause the railroad tracks change from straight to zigzag, the pigs have bibs on and it is the fathers and mothers who fix it.And if you start to go to that country remember first you must sell everything you have, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, put the spot cash money in a ragbag and go to the railroad station and ask the ticket agent for a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.And you mustn’t be surprised if the ticket agent wipes sleep from his eyes and asks, “So far? So early? So soon? “
In a certain temple in the northern part of the Empire, there once lived a famous priest named Hien-Chung, whose reputation had spread far and wide, not merely for the sanctity of his life, but also for the supernatural powers which he was known to possess, and which he had exhibited on several remarkable occasions. Men would have marvelled less about him had they known that the man dressed in the long slate-coloured robe, with shaven head, and saintly-looking face, over which no one had ever seen a smile flicker, was in reality a pilgrim on his way to the Western Heaven, which he hoped to reach in time, and to become a fairy there.One night Hien-Chung lay asleep in a room opening out of the main hall in which the great image of the Goddess of Mercy, with her benevolent, gracious face, sat enshrined amidst the darkness that lay thickly over the temple. All at once, there stood before him a most striking and stately-looking figure. The man had a royal look about him, as though he had been accustomed to rule. On his head there was a crown, and his dress was such as no mere subject would ever be allowed to wear.Hien-Chung gazed at him in wonder, and was at first inclined to believe that he was some evil spirit who had assumed this clever disguise in order to deceive him. As this thought flashed through his mind, the man began to weep. It was pitiable indeed to see this kingly person affected with such oppressive grief that the tears streamed down his cheeks, and with the tenderness that was distinctive of him Hien-Chung expressed his deep sympathy for a sorrow so profound.“Three years ago,” said his visitor, “I was the ruler of this ‘Kingdom of the Black Flower.’ I was indeed the founder of my dynasty, for I carved my own fortune with my sword, and made this little state into a kingdom. For a long time I was very happy, and my people were most devoted in their allegiance to me. I little dreamed of the sorrows that were coming on me, and the disasters which awaited me in the near future.“Five years ago my kingdom was visited with a very severe drought. The rains ceased to fall; the streams which used to fall down the mountain-sides and irrigate the plains dried up; and the wells lost the fountains which used to fill them with water. Everywhere the crops failed, and the green herbage on which the cattle browsed was slowly blasted by the burning rays of the sun.“The common people suffered in their homes from want of food, and many of the very poorest actually died of starvation. This was a source of great sorrow to me, and every day my prayers went up to Heaven, that it would send down rain upon the dried-up land and so deliver my people from death. I knew that this calamity had fallen on my kingdom because of some wrong that I had done, and so my heart was torn with remorse.“One day while my mind was full of anxiety, a man suddenly appeared at my palace and begged my ministers to be allowed to have an audience with me. He said that it was of the utmost importance that he should see me, for he had come to propose a plan for the deliverance of my country.“I gave orders that he should instantly be brought into my presence, when I asked him if he had the power to cause the rain to descend upon the parched land.“‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I have, and if you will step with me now to the front of your palace I will prove to you that I have the ability to do this, and even more.’“Striding out to a balcony which overlooked the capital, and from which one could catch a view of the hills in the distance, the stranger lifted up his right hand towards the heavens and uttered certain words which I was unable to understand.“Instantly, and as if by magic, a subtle change crept through the atmosphere. The sky became darkened, and dense masses of clouds rolled up and blotted out the sun. The thunder began to mutter, and vivid flashes of lightning darted from one end of the heavens to the other, and before an hour had elapsed the rain was descending in torrents all over the land, and the great drought was at an end.“My gratitude to this mysterious stranger for the great deliverance he had wrought for my kingdom was so great that there was no favour which I was not willing to bestow upon him. I gave him rooms in the palace, and treated him as though he were my equal. I had the truest and the tenderest affection for him, and he seemed to be equally devoted to me.“One morning we were walking hand in hand in the royal gardens. The peach blossoms were just out, and we were enjoying their perfume and wandering up and down amongst the trees which sent forth such exquisite fragrance.“As we sauntered on, we came by-and-by upon a well which was hidden from sight by a cluster of oleander trees. We stayed for a moment to peer down its depths and to catch a sight of the dark waters lying deep within it. Whilst I was gazing down, my friend gave me a sudden push and I was precipitated head first into the water at the bottom. The moment I disappeared, he took a broad slab of stone and completely covered the mouth of the well. Over it he spread a thick layer of earth, and in this he planted a banana root, which, under the influence of the magic powers he possessed, in the course of a few hours had developed into a full-grown tree. I have lain dead in the well now for three years, and during all that time no one has arisen to avenge my wrong or to bring me deliverance.”“But have your ministers of State made no efforts during all these three years to discover their lost king?” asked Hien-Chung. “And what about your wife and family? Have they tamely submitted to have you disappear without raising an outcry that would resound throughout the whole kingdom? It seems to me inexplicable that a king should vanish from his palace and that no hue and cry should be raised throughout the length and breadth of the land until the mystery should be solved and his cruel murder fully avenged.”“It is here,” replied the spirit of the dead king, “that my enemy has shown his greatest cunning. The reason why men never suspect that any treason has been committed is because by his enchantments he has transformed his own appearance so as to become the exact counterpart of myself. The man who called down the rain and saved my country from drought and famine has simply disappeared, so men think, and I the King still rule as of old in my kingdom. Not the slightest suspicion as to the true state of things has ever entered the brain of anyone in the nation, and so the usurper is absolutely safe in the position he occupies to-day.”“But have you never appealed to Yam-lo, the ruler of the Land of Shadows?”, asked Hien-Chung. “He is the great redresser of the wrongs and crimes of earth, and now that you are a spirit and immediately within his jurisdiction, you should lay your complaint before him and pray him to avenge the sufferings you have been called upon to endure.”“You do not understand,” the spirit hastily replied. “The one who has wrought such ruin in my life is an evil spirit. He has nothing in common with men, but has been let loose from the region where evil spirits are confined to punish me for some wrong that I have committed in the past. He therefore knows the ways of the infernal regions, and is hand in glove with the rulers there, and even with Yam-lo himself. He is, moreover, on the most friendly terms with the tutelary God of my capital, and so no complaint of mine would ever be listened to for a moment by any of the powers who rule in the land of the dead.“There is another very strong reason, too, why any appeal that I might make for justice would be disregarded. My soul has not yet been loosed from my body, but is still confined within it in the well. The courts of the Underworld would never recognize me, because I still belong to this life, over which they have no control.“Only to-day,” he continued, “a friendly spirit whispered in my ear that my confinement in the well was drawing to a close, and that the three years I had been adjudged to stay there would soon be up. He strongly advised me to apply to you, for you are endowed, he said, with powers superior to those possessed by my enemy, and if you are only pleased to exercise them I shall speedily be delivered from his evil influence.”Now the Goddess of Mercy had sent Hien-Chung a number of familiar spirits to be a protection to him in time of need. Next morning, accordingly, he summoned the cleverest of these, whose name was Hing, in order to consult with him as to how the king might be delivered from the bondage in which he had been held for the three years.“The first thing we have to do,” said Hing, “is to get the heir to the Throne on our side. He has often been suspicious at certain things in the conduct of his supposed father, one of which is that for three years he has never been allowed to see his mother. All that is needed now is to get some tangible evidence to convince him that there is some mystery in the palace, and we shall gain him as our ally.“I have been fortunate,” he continued, “in obtaining one thing which we shall find very useful in inducing the Prince to listen to what we have to say to him about his father. You may not know it, but about the time when the King was thrown into the well, the seal of the kingdom mysteriously disappeared and a new one had to be cut.“Knowing that you were going to summon me to discuss this case, I went down into the well at dawn this morning, and found the missing seal on the body of the King. Here it is, and now we must lay our plans to work on the mind of the son for the deliverance of the father. To-morrow I hear that the Prince is going out hunting on the neighbouring hills. In one of the valleys there is a temple to the Goddess of Mercy, and if you will take this seal and await his coming there, I promise you that I will find means to entice him to the shrine.”Next morning the heir to the Throne of the “Kingdom of the Black Flower” set out with a noisy retinue to have a day’s hunting on the well-wooded hills overlooking the capital. They had scarcely reached the hunting grounds when great excitement was caused by the sudden appearance of a remarkable-looking hare. It was decidedly larger than an ordinary hare, but the curious feature about it was its colour, which was as white as the driven snow.No sooner had the hounds caught sight of it, than with loud barkings and bayings they dashed madly in pursuit. The hare, however, did not seem to show any terror, but with graceful bounds that carried it rapidly over the ground, it easily out-distanced the fleetest of its pursuers. It appeared, indeed, as though it were thoroughly enjoying the facility with which it could outrun the dogs, while the latter grew more and more excited as they always saw the quarry before them and yet could never get near enough to lay hold upon it.Another extraordinary thing was that this hare did not seem anxious to escape. It took no advantage of undergrowth or of clumps of trees to hide the direction in which it was going. It managed also to keep constantly in view of the whole field; and when it had to make sudden turns in the natural windings of the road which led to a valley in the distance, where there stood a famous temple, it hesitated for a moment and allowed the baying hounds to come perilously near, before it darted off with the speed of lightning and left the dogs far behind it.Little did the hunters dream that the beautiful animal which was giving them such an exciting chase was none other than the fairy Hing, who had assumed this disguise in order to bring the Prince to the lonely temple in the secluded valley, where, beyond the possibility of being spied upon by his father’s murderer, the story of treachery could be told, and means be devised for his restoration to the throne.Having arrived close to the temple, the mysterious hare vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and not a trace was left to enable the dogs, which careered wildly round and round, to pick up the scent.The Prince, who was a devoted disciple of the Goddess of Mercy, now dismounted and entered the temple, where he proceeded to burn incense before her shrine and in muttered tones to beseech her to send down blessings upon him.After a time, he became considerably surprised to find that the presiding priest of the temple, instead of coming forward to attend upon him and to show him the courtesies due to his high position, remained standing in a corner where the shadows were darkest, his eyes cast upon the ground and with a most serious look overspreading his countenance.Accordingly, when he had finished his devotions to the Goddess, the Prince approached the priest, and asked him in a kindly manner if anything was distressing him.“Yes,” replied Hien-Chung, “there is, and it is a subject which materially affects your Royal Highness. If you will step for a moment into my private room, I shall endeavour to explain to you the matter which has filled my mind with the greatest possible anxiety.”When they entered the abbot’s room, Hien-Chung handed the Prince a small box and asked him to open it and examine the article it contained.Great was the Prince’s amazement when he took it out and cast a hurried glance over it. A look of excitement passed over his face and he cried out, “Why, this is the great seal of the kingdom which was lost three years ago, and of which no trace could ever be found! May I ask how it came into your possession and what reason you can give for not having restored it to the King, who has long wished to discover it?”“The answer to that is a long one, your Highness, and to satisfy you, I must go somewhat into detail.”Hien-Chung then told the Prince of the midnight visit his father had made him, and the tragic story of his murder by the man who was now posing as the King, and of his appeal to deliver him from the sorrows of the well in which he had been confined for three years.“With regard to the finding of the seal,” he continued, “my servant Hing, who is present, will describe how by the supernatural powers with which he is endowed, he descended the well only this very morning and discovered it on the body of your father.”“We have this absolute proof,” he said, “that the vision I saw only two nights ago was not some imagination of the brain, but that it was really the King who appealed to me to deliver him from the power of an enemy who seems bent upon his destruction.“We must act, and act promptly,” he went on, “for the man who is pretending to be the ruler of your kingdom is a person of unlimited ability, and as soon as he gets to know that his secret has been divulged, he will put into operation every art he possesses to frustrate our purpose.“What I propose is that your Highness should send back the greater part of your retinue to the palace, with an intimation to the effect that you are going to spend the night here in a special service to the Goddess, whose birthday it fortunately happens to be to-day. After night has fallen upon the city, Hing shall descend into the well and bring the body of your father here. You will then have all the proof you need of the truth of the matter, and we can devise plans as to our future action.”A little after midnight, Hing having faithfully carried out the commission entrusted to him by Hien-Chung, arrived with the body of the King, which was laid with due ceremony and respect in one of the inner rooms of the temple. With his marvellous wonder-working powers and with the aid of invisible forces which he had been able to summon to his assistance, he had succeeded in transporting it from the wretched place where it had lain so long to the friendly temple of the Goddess of Mercy.The Prince was deeply moved by the sight of his father’s body. Fortunately it had suffered no change since the day when it was thrown to the bottom of the well. Not a sign of decay could be seen upon the King’s noble features. It seemed as though he had but fallen asleep, and presently would wake up and talk to them as he used to do. The fact that in some mysterious way the soul had not been separated from the body accounted for its remarkable preservation. Nevertheless to all appearance the King was dead, and the great question now was how he could be brought back to life, so that he might be restored to his family and his kingdom.“The time has come,” said Hien-Chung, “when heroic measures will have to be used if the King is ever to live again. Two nights ago he made a passionate and urgent request to me to save him, for one of the gods informed him that I was the only man who could do so. So far, we have got him out of the grip of the demon that compassed his death, and now it lies with me to provide some antidote which shall bring back the vital forces and make him a living man once more.“I have never had to do with such a serious case as this before, but I have obtained from the Patriarch of the Taoist Church a small vial of the Elixir of Life, which has the marvellous property of prolonging the existence of whoever drinks it. We shall try it on the King and, as there is no sign of vital decay, let us hope that it will be effective in restoring him to life.”Turning to a desk that was kept locked, he brought out a small black earthenware bottle, from which he dropped a single drop of liquid on to the lips of the prostrate figure. In a few seconds a kind of rosy flush spread over the King’s features. Another drop, and a look of life flashed over the pallid face. Still another, and after a short interval the eyes opened and looked with intelligence upon the group surrounding his couch. Still one more, and the King arose and asked how long he had been asleep, and how it came about that he was in this small room instead of being in his own palace.He was soon restored to his family and to his position in the State, for the usurper after one or two feeble attempts to retain his power ignominiously fled from the country.A short time after, Hien-Chung had a private interview with the King. “I am anxious,” he said, “that your Majesty should understand the reason why such a calamity came into your life.“Some years ago without any just reason you put to death a Buddhist priest. You never showed any repentance for the great wrong you had done, and so the Goddess sent a severe drought upon your Kingdom. You still remained unrepentant, and then she sent one of her Ministers to afflict you, depriving you of your home and your royal power. The man who pushed you down the well was but carrying out the instructions he had received from the Goddess. Your stay down the well for three years was part of the punishment she had decreed for your offence, and when the time was up, I was given the authority to release you.“Kings as well as their subjects are under the great law of righteousness, and if they violate it they must suffer like other men. I would warn your Majesty that unless you show some evidence that you have repented for taking away a man’s life unjustly, other sorrows will most certainly fall upon you in the future.”
The King’s son was going to be married, so there were general rejoicings.  He had waited a whole year for his bride, and at last she had arrived.  She was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland in a sledge drawn by six reindeer.  The sledge was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swan’s wings lay the little Princess herself.  Her long ermine-cloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had always lived.  So pale was she that as she drove through the streets all the people wondered.  “She is like a white rose!” they cried, and they threw down flowers on her from the balconies.At the gate of the Castle the Prince was waiting to receive her.  He had dreamy violet eyes, and his hair was like fine gold.  When he saw her he sank upon one knee, and kissed her hand.“Your picture was beautiful,” he murmured, “but you are more beautiful than your picture”; and the little Princess blushed.“She was like a white rose before,” said a young Page to his neighbour, “but she is like a red rose now”; and the whole Court was delighted.For the next three days everybody went about saying, “White rose, Red rose, Red rose, White rose”; and the King gave orders that the Page’s salary was to be doubled.  As he received no salary at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was duly published in the Court Gazette.When the three days were over the marriage was celebrated.  It was a magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand in hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls.  Then there was a State Banquet, which lasted for five hours.  The Prince and Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup of clear crystal.  Only true lovers could drink out of this cup, for if false lips touched it, it grew grey and dull and cloudy.“It’s quite clear that they love each other,” said the little Page, “as clear as crystal!” and the King doubled his salary a second time.  “What an honour!” cried all the courtiers.After the banquet there was to be a Ball.  The bride and bridegroom were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised to play the flute.  He played very badly, but no one had ever dared to tell him so, because he was the King.  Indeed, he knew only two airs, and was never quite certain which one he was playing; but it made no matter, for, whatever he did, everybody cried out, “Charming! charming!”The last item on the programme was a grand display of fireworks, to be let off exactly at midnight.  The little Princess had never seen a firework in her life, so the King had given orders that the Royal Pyrotechnist should be in attendance on the day of her marriage.“What are fireworks like?” she had asked the Prince, one morning, as she was walking on the terrace.“They are like the Aurora Borealis,” said the King, who always answered questions that were addressed to other people, “only much more natural.  I prefer them to stars myself, as you always know when they are going to appear, and they are as delightful as my own flute-playing.  You must certainly see them.”So at the end of the King’s garden a great stand had been set up, and as soon as the Royal Pyrotechnist had put everything in its proper place, the fireworks began to talk to each other.“The world is certainly very beautiful,” cried a little Squib.  “Just look at those yellow tulips.  Why! if they were real crackers they could not be lovelier.  I am very glad I have travelled.  Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all one’s prejudices.”“The King’s garden is not the world, you foolish squib,” said a big Roman Candle; “the world is an enormous place, and it would take you three days to see it thoroughly.”“Any place you love is the world to you,” exclaimed a pensive Catherine Wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her broken heart; “but love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it.  They wrote so much about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised.  True love suffers, and is silent.  I remember myself once—But it is no matter now.  Romance is a thing of the past.”“Nonsense!” said the Roman Candle, “Romance never dies.  It is like the moon, and lives for ever.  The bride and bridegroom, for instance, love each other very dearly.  I heard all about them this morning from a brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court news.”But the Catherine Wheel shook her head.  “Romance is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is dead,” she murmured.  She was one of those people who think that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes true in the end.Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round.It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to the end of a long stick.  He always coughed before he made any observation, so as to attract attention.“Ahem! ahem!” he said, and everybody listened except the poor Catherine Wheel, who was still shaking her head, and murmuring, “Romance is dead.”“Order! order!” cried out a Cracker.  He was something of a politician, and had always taken a prominent part in the local elections, so he knew the proper Parliamentary expressions to use.“Quite dead,” whispered the Catherine Wheel, and she went off to sleep.As soon as there was perfect silence, the Rocket coughed a third time and began.  He spoke with a very slow, distinct voice, as if he was dictating his memoirs, and always looked over the shoulder of the person to whom he was talking.  In fact, he had a most distinguished manner.“How fortunate it is for the King’s son,” he remarked, “that he is to be married on the very day on which I am to be let off.  Really, if it had been arranged beforehand, it could not have turned out better for him; but, Princes are always lucky.”“Dear me!” said the little Squib, “I thought it was quite the other way, and that we were to be let off in the Prince’s honour.”“It may be so with you,” he answered; “indeed, I have no doubt that it is, but with me it is different.  I am a very remarkable Rocket, and come of remarkable parents.  My mother was the most celebrated Catherine Wheel of her day, and was renowned for her graceful dancing.  When she made her great public appearance she spun round nineteen times before she went out, and each time that she did so she threw into the air seven pink stars.  She was three feet and a half in diameter, and made of the very best gunpowder.  My father was a Rocket like myself, and of French extraction.  He flew so high that the people were afraid that he would never come down again.  He did, though, for he was of a kindly disposition, and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden rain.  The newspapers wrote about his performance in very flattering terms.  Indeed, the Court Gazette called him a triumph of Pylotechnic art.”“Pyrotechnic, Pyrotechnic, you mean,” said a Bengal Light; “I know it is Pyrotechnic, for I saw it written on my own canister.”“Well, I said Pylotechnic,” answered the Rocket, in a severe tone of voice, and the Bengal Light felt so crushed that he began at once to bully the little squibs, in order to show that he was still a person of some importance.“I was saying,” continued the Rocket, “I was saying—What was I saying?”“You were talking about yourself,” replied the Roman Candle.“Of course; I knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was so rudely interrupted.  I hate rudeness and bad manners of every kind, for I am extremely sensitive.  No one in the whole world is so sensitive as I am, I am quite sure of that.”“What is a sensitive person?” said the Cracker to the Roman Candle.“A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other people’s toes,” answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the Cracker nearly exploded with laughter.“Pray, what are you laughing at?” inquired the Rocket; “I am not laughing.”“I am laughing because I am happy,” replied the Cracker.“That is a very selfish reason,” said the Rocket angrily.  “What right have you to be happy?  You should be thinking about others.  In fact, you should be thinking about me.  I am always thinking about myself, and I expect everybody else to do the same.  That is what is called sympathy.  It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree.  Suppose, for instance, anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for every one!  The Prince and Princess would never be happy again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King, I know he would not get over it.  Really, when I begin to reflect on the importance of my position, I am almost moved to tears.”“If you want to give pleasure to others,” cried the Roman Candle, “you had better keep yourself dry.”“Certainly,” exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits; “that is only common sense.”“Common sense, indeed!” said the Rocket indignantly; “you forget that I am very uncommon, and very remarkable.  Why, anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination.  But I have imagination, for I never think of things as they really are; I always think of them as being quite different.  As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature.  Fortunately for myself, I don’t care.  The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated.  But none of you have any hearts.  Here you are laughing and making merry just as if the Prince and Princess had not just been married.”“Well, really,” exclaimed a small Fire-balloon, “why not?  It is a most joyful occasion, and when I soar up into the air I intend to tell the stars all about it.  You will see them twinkle when I talk to them about the pretty bride.”“Ah! what a trivial view of life!” said the Rocket; “but it is only what I expected.  There is nothing in you; you are hollow and empty.  Why, perhaps the Prince and Princess may go to live in a country where there is a deep river, and perhaps they may have one only son, a little fair-haired boy with violet eyes like the Prince himself; and perhaps some day he may go out to walk with his nurse; and perhaps the nurse may go to sleep under a great elder-tree; and perhaps the little boy may fall into the deep river and be drowned.  What a terrible misfortune!  Poor people, to lose their only son!  It is really too dreadful!  I shall never get over it.”“But they have not lost their only son,” said the Roman Candle; “no misfortune has happened to them at all.”“I never said that they had,” replied the Rocket; “I said that they might.  If they had lost their only son there would be no use in saying anything more about the matter.  I hate people who cry over spilt milk.  But when I think that they might lose their only son, I certainly am very much affected.”“You certainly are!” cried the Bengal Light.  “In fact, you are the most affected person I ever met.”“You are the rudest person I ever met,” said the Rocket, “and you cannot understand my friendship for the Prince.”“Why, you don’t even know him,” growled the Roman Candle.“I never said I knew him,” answered the Rocket.  “I dare say that if I knew him I should not be his friend at all.  It is a very dangerous thing to know one’s friends.”“You had really better keep yourself dry,” said the Fire-balloon.  “That is the important thing.”“Very important for you, I have no doubt,” answered the Rocket, “but I shall weep if I choose”; and he actually burst into real tears, which flowed down his stick like rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little beetles, who were just thinking of setting up house together, and were looking for a nice dry spot to live in.“He must have a truly romantic nature,” said the Catherine Wheel, “for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about”; and she heaved a deep sigh, and thought about the deal box.But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept saying, “Humbug! humbug!” at the top of their voices.  They were extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything they called it humbug.Then the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars began to shine, and a sound of music came from the palace.The Prince and Princess were leading the dance.  They danced so beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the window and watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and beat time.Then ten o’clock struck, and then eleven, and then twelve, and at the last stroke of midnight every one came out on the terrace, and the King sent for the Royal Pyrotechnist.“Let the fireworks begin,” said the King; and the Royal Pyrotechnist made a low bow, and marched down to the end of the garden.  He had six attendants with him, each of whom carried a lighted torch at the end of a long pole.It was certainly a magnificent display.Whizz! Whizz! went the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and round.  Boom!  Boom! went the Roman Candle.  Then the Squibs danced all over the place, and the Bengal Lights made everything look scarlet.  “Good-bye,” cried the Fire-balloon, as he soared away, dropping tiny blue sparks.  Bang! Bang! answered the Crackers, who were enjoying themselves immensely.  Every one was a great success except the Remarkable Rocket.  He was so damp with crying that he could not go off at all.  The best thing in him was the gunpowder, and that was so wet with tears that it was of no use.  All his poor relations, to whom he would never speak, except with a sneer, shot up into the sky like wonderful golden flowers with blossoms of fire.  Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and the little Princess laughed with pleasure.“I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion,” said the Rocket; “no doubt that is what it means,” and he looked more supercilious than ever.The next day the workmen came to put everything tidy.  “This is evidently a deputation,” said the Rocket; “I will receive them with becoming dignity” so he put his nose in the air, and began to frown severely as if he were thinking about some very important subject.  But they took no notice of him at all till they were just going away.  Then one of them caught sight of him.  “Hallo!” he cried, “what a bad rocket!” and he threw him over the wall into the ditch.“Bad Rocket?  Bad Rocket?” he said, as he whirled through the air; “impossible!  Grand Rocket, that is what the man said.  Bad and Grand sound very much the same, indeed they often are the same”; and he fell into the mud.“It is not comfortable here,” he remarked, “but no doubt it is some fashionable watering-place, and they have sent me away to recruit my health.  My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and I require rest.”Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, and a green mottled coat, swam up to him.“A new arrival, I see!” said the Frog.  “Well, after all there is nothing like mud.  Give me rainy weather and a ditch, and I am quite happy.  Do you think it will be a wet afternoon?  I am sure I hope so, but the sky is quite blue and cloudless.  What a pity!”“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket, and he began to cough.“What a delightful voice you have!” cried the Frog.  “Really it is quite like a croak, and croaking is of course the most musical sound in the world.  You will hear our glee-club this evening.  We sit in the old duck pond close by the farmer’s house, and as soon as the moon rises we begin.  It is so entrancing that everybody lies awake to listen to us.  In fact, it was only yesterday that I heard the farmer’s wife say to her mother that she could not get a wink of sleep at night on account of us.  It is most gratifying to find oneself so popular.”“Ahem! ahem!” said the Rocket angrily.  He was very much annoyed that he could not get a word in.“A delightful voice, certainly,” continued the Frog; “I hope you will come over to the duck-pond.  I am off to look for my daughters.  I have six beautiful daughters, and I am so afraid the Pike may meet them.  He is a perfect monster, and would have no hesitation in breakfasting off them.  Well, good-bye: I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I assure you.”“Conversation, indeed!” said the Rocket.  “You have talked the whole time yourself.  That is not conversation.”“Somebody must listen,” answered the Frog, “and I like to do all the talking myself.  It saves time, and prevents arguments.”“But I like arguments,” said the Rocket.“I hope not,” said the Frog complacently.  “Arguments are extremely vulgar, for everybody in good society holds exactly the same opinions.  Good-bye a second time; I see my daughters in the distance and the little Frog swam away.“You are a very irritating person,” said the Rocket, “and very ill-bred.  I hate people who talk about themselves, as you do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as I do.  It is what I call selfishness, and selfishness is a most detestable thing, especially to any one of my temperament, for I am well known for my sympathetic nature.  In fact, you should take example by me; you could not possibly have a better model.  Now that you have the chance you had better avail yourself of it, for I am going back to Court almost immediately.  I am a great favourite at Court; in fact, the Prince and Princess were married yesterday in my honour.  Of course you know nothing of these matters, for you are a provincial.”“There is no good talking to him,” said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of a large brown bulrush; “no good at all, for he has gone away.”“Well, that is his loss, not mine,” answered the Rocket.  “I am not going to stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention.  I like hearing myself talk.  It is one of my greatest pleasures.  I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”“Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy,” said the Dragon-fly; and he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings and soared away into the sky.“How very silly of him not to stay here!” said the Rocket.  “I am sure that he has not often got such a chance of improving his mind.  However, I don’t care a bit.  Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated some day”; and he sank down a little deeper into the mud.After some time a large White Duck swam up to him.  She had yellow legs, and webbed feet, and was considered a great beauty on account of her waddle.“Quack, quack, quack,” she said.  “What a curious shape you are!  May I ask were you born like that, or is it the result of an accident?”“It is quite evident that you have always lived in the country,” answered the Rocket, “otherwise you would know who I am.  However, I excuse your ignorance.  It would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable as oneself.  You will no doubt be surprised to hear that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain.”“I don’t think much of that,” said the Duck, “as I cannot see what use it is to any one.  Now, if you could plough the fields like the ox, or draw a cart like the horse, or look after the sheep like the collie-dog, that would be something.”“My good creature,” cried the Rocket in a very haughty tone of voice, “I see that you belong to the lower orders.  A person of my position is never useful.  We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than sufficient.  I have no sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least of all with such industries as you seem to recommend.  Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.”“Well, well,” said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable disposition, and never quarrelled with any one, “everybody has different tastes.  I hope, at any rate, that you are going to take up your residence here.”“Oh! dear no,” cried the Rocket.  “I am merely a visitor, a distinguished visitor.  The fact is that I find this place rather tedious.  There is neither society here, nor solitude.  In fact, it is essentially suburban.  I shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world.”“I had thoughts of entering public life once myself,” remarked the Duck; “there are so many things that need reforming.  Indeed, I took the chair at a meeting some time ago, and we passed resolutions condemning everything that we did not like.  However, they did not seem to have much effect.  Now I go in for domesticity, and look after my family.”“I am made for public life,” said the Rocket, “and so are all my relations, even the humblest of them.  Whenever we appear we excite great attention.  I have not actually appeared myself, but when I do so it will be a magnificent sight.  As for domesticity, it ages one rapidly, and distracts one’s mind from higher things.”“Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they are!” said the Duck; “and that reminds me how hungry I feel”: and she swam away down the stream, saying, “Quack, quack, quack.”“Come back! come back!” screamed the Rocket, “I have a great deal to say to you”; but the Duck paid no attention to him.  “I am glad that she has gone,” he said to himself, “she has a decidedly middle-class mind”; and he sank a little deeper still into the mud, and began to think about the loneliness of genius, when suddenly two little boys in white smocks came running down the bank, with a kettle and some faggots.“This must be the deputation,” said the Rocket, and he tried to look very dignified.“Hallo!” cried one of the boys, “look at this old stick!  I wonder how it came here”; and he picked the rocket out of the ditch.“Old Stick!” said the Rocket, “impossible!  Gold Stick, that is what he said.  Gold Stick is very complimentary.  In fact, he mistakes me for one of the Court dignitaries!”“Let us put it into the fire!” said the other boy, “it will help to boil the kettle.”So they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and lit the fire.“This is magnificent,” cried the Rocket, “they are going to let me off in broad day-light, so that every one can see me.”“We will go to sleep now,” they said, “and when we wake up the kettle will be boiled”; and they lay down on the grass, and shut their eyes.The Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to burn.  At last, however, the fire caught him.“Now I am going off!” he cried, and he made himself very stiff and straight.  “I know I shall go much higher than the stars, much higher than the moon, much higher than the sun.  In fact, I shall go so high that—”Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air.“Delightful!” he cried, “I shall go on like this for ever.  What a success I am!”But nobody saw him.Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him.“Now I am going to explode,” he cried.  “I shall set the whole world on fire, and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for a whole year.”  And he certainly did explode.  Bang! Bang! Bang! went the gunpowder.  There was no doubt about it.But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were sound asleep.Then all that was left of him was the stick, and this fell down on the back of a Goose who was taking a walk by the side of the ditch.“Good heavens!” cried the Goose.  “It is going to rain sticks”; and she rushed into the water.“I knew I should create a great sensation,” gasped the Rocket, and he went out.
John Mulligan was as fine an old fellow as ever threw a Carlow spur into the sides of a horse. He was, besides, as jolly a boon companion over a jug of punch as you would meet from Carnsore Point to Bloody Farland. And a good horse he used to ride; and a stiffer jug of punch than his was not in nineteen baronies. May be he stuck more to it than he ought to have done-but that is nothing whatever to the story I am going to tell.John believed devoutly in fairies; and an angry man was he if you doubted them. He had more fairy stories than would make, if properly printed in a rivulet of print running down a meadow of margin, two thick quartos for Mr. Murray, of Albemarle street; all of which he used to tell on all occasions that he could find listeners. Many believed his stories – many more did not believe them – but nobody, in process of time, used to contradict the old gentleman, for it was a pity to vex him. But he had a couple of young neighbours who were just come down from their first vacation in Trinity College to spend the summer months with an uncle of theirs, Mr. Whaley, an old Cromwellian, who lived at Ballybegmullinahone, and they were too full of logic to let the old man have his own way undisputed.Every story he told they laughed at, and said that it was impossible – that it was merely old woman’s gabble, and other such things. When he would insist that all his stories were derived from the most credible sources – nay, that some of them had been told him by his own grandmother, a very respectable old lady, but slightly affected in her faculties, as things that came under her own knowledge – they cut the matter short by declaring that she was in her dotage, and at the best of times had a strong propensity to pulling a long bow.“But,” said they, “Jack Mulligan, did you ever see a fairy yourself?”“Never,” was the reply. – Never, as I am a man of honour and credit.”“Well, then,” they answered, ” until you do, do not be bothering us with any more tales of my grandmother.”Jack was particularly nettled at this, and took up the: cudgels for his grandmother; but the younkers were too sharp for him, and finally he got into a passion, as people generally do who have the worst of an argument. This evening – it was at their uncle’s, an old crony of his with whom he had dined – he bad taken a large portion of his usual beverage, and was quite riotous. He at last got up in a passion, ordered his horse, and, in spite of his host’s entreaties, galloped off, although he had intended to have slept there, declaring that he would not have any thing more to do with a pair of jackanapes puppies, who, because they had learned how to read good-for-nothing hooks in cramp writing, and were taught by a parcel of wiggy, red-snouted, prating prigs, (“not,” added he, “however, that I say a man may not be a good man and have a red nose,”) they imagined they knew more than a man who had held buckle and tongue together facing the wind of the world for five dozen years.He rode off in a fret, and galloped as hard as his horse Shaunbuie could powder away over the limestone. ” Damn it!” hiccupped he, ” Lord pardon me for swearing! the brats had me in one thing – I never did see a fairy; and I would give up five as good acres as ever grew apple-potatoes to get a glimpse of one – and, by the powers! what is that?”He looked, and saw a gallant spectacle. His road lay by a noble demesne, gracefully sprinkled with trees, not thickly planted as in a dark forest, but disposed, now in clumps of five or six, now standing singly, towering over the plain of verdure around them, as a beautiful promontory arising out of the sea. He had come right opposite the glory of the wood. It was an oak, which in the oldest title-deeds of the county, and they were at least five hundred years old, was called the old oak of Ballinghassig. Age had hollowed its centre, but its massy boughs still waved with their dark serrated foliage. The moon was shining on it bright. If I were a poet, like Mr. Wordsworth, I should tell you how the beautiful light was broken into a thousand different fragments – and how it. filled the entire tree with a glorious flood, bathing every particular leaf, and showing forth every particular bough; but, as I am not a poet, I shall go on with my story. By this light Jack saw a, brilliant company of lovely little forms dancing under the oak with an unsteady and rolling motion. The company was large. Some spread out far beyond the furthest boundary of the shadow of the oak’s branches – some were seen glancing through the flashes of light shining through its leaves – some were barely visible, nestling under the trunk – some no doubt were entirely concealed from his eyes. Never did man see any thing more beautiful. They were not three inches in height, but they were white as the driven snow, and beyond number numberless. Jack threw the bridle over his horse’s neck, and drew up to the low wall which bounded the demesne, and leaning over it, surveyed, with infinite delight, their diversified gambols. By looking long at them, he soon saw objects which had not struck him at first; in particular that in the middle was a chief of superior stature, round whom the group appeared to move. He gazed so long that he was quite overcome with joy, and could not help shouting out, ” Bravo! little fellow,” said he, well kicked and strong.” But the instant he uttered the words the night was darkened, and the fairies vanished with the speed of lightning.” I wish,” said Jack, “I had held my tongue; but no matter now. I shall just turn bridle about and go back to Ballybegmullinahone Castle, and beat the young Master Whaleys, fine reasoners as they think themselves, out of the field clean.”No sooner said than done; and Jack was back again as if upon the wings of the wind. He rapped fiercely at the door, and called aloud for the two collegians.” Hallo!” said he, “young Flatcaps, come down now, if you dare. Come down, if you dare, and I shall give you oc-oc-ocular demonstration of the truth of what I was saying.”Old Whaley put his head out of the window, and said, “Jack Mulligan, what brings you back so soon?”“The fairies,” shouted Jack; “the fairies!”I am afraid,” muttered the Lord of Ballybegmullinahone, ” the last glass you took was too little watered: but, no matter – come in and cool yourself over a tumbler of punch.”He came in and sat down again at table. In great spirits he told his story ; – how he had seen thousands and tens of thousands of fairies dancing about the old oak of Balllinghassig; he described their beautiful dresses of shining silver; their flat-crowned hats, glittering in the moonbeams; the princely stature and demeanour of the central figure. He added, that he heard them singing, and playing the most enchanting music; but this was merely imagination. The young men laughed, but Jack held his ground. “Suppose, said one of the lads, ” we join company with you on the road, and ride along to the place, where you saw that fine company of fairies?”“Done!” cried Jack; “but I will not promise that you will find them there, for I saw them scudding up in the sky like a flight of bees, and heard their wings whizzing through the air.” This, you know, was a bounce, for Jack had heard no such thing.Off rode the three, and came to the demesne of Oakwood. They arrived at the wall flanking the field where stood the great oak; and the moon, by this time, having again emerged from the clouds, shone bright as when Jack had passed. “Look there,” he cried, exultingly; for the same spectacle again caught his eyes, and he pointed to it with his horsewhip; ” look, and deny if you can. ”“Why,” said one of the lads, pausing, ” true it is that we do see a company of white creatures; but were they fairies ten time~ over, I shall go among them;” and he dismounted to climb over the wall.“Ah, Tom Tom;” cried Jack, ” stop, man, stop! what are you doing? The fairies – the good people, I mean – hate to be meddled with. You will be pinched or bIinded; or your horse will cast its shoe; or – look! a wilful man will have his way. Oh! oh! he is almost at the oak – God help him! for he is past the help of man.”By this time Tom was under the tree and burst out laughing. “Jack,” said he, “keep your prayers to yourself. Your fairies are not bad at all. I believe they will make tolerably good catsup.”Catsup,” said Jack, who when he found that the two lads (for the second had followed his brother) were both laughing in the middle of the fairies, had dismounted and advanced slowly -What do you mean by catsup?”“Nothing,” replied Tom, ” but that they are mushrooms (as indeed they were); and your Oberon is merely this overgrown puff-ball.”Poor Mulligan gave a long whistle of amazement, staggered back to his horse without saying a word, and rode home in a hard gallop, never looking behind him. Many a long day was it before he ventured to face the laughers at Ballybegmullinahone; and to the day of his death the people of the parish, aye, and five parishes round, called him nothing but Musharoon Jack, such being their pronunciation of mushroom.I should be sorry if all my fairy stories ended with so little dignity; but –“These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits, andAre melted into air – into thin air.”
There were once three apprentices, who had agreed to keep always together while travelling, and always to work in the same town. At one time, however, their masters had no more work to give them, so that at last they were in rags, and had nothing to live on. Then one of them said, “What shall we do? We cannot stay here any longer, we will travel once more, and if we do not find any work in the town we go to, we will arrange with the innkeeper there, that we are to write and tell him where we are staying, so that we can always have news of each other, and then we will separate.”And that seemed best to the others also. They went forth, and met on the way a richly-dressed man who asked who they were. “We are apprentices looking for work: up to this time we have kept together, but if we cannot find anything to do we are going to separate.”“There is no need for that,” said the man, “if you will do what I tell you, you shall not want for gold or for work;—nay, you shall become great lords, and drive in your carriages!”One of them said, “If our souls and salvation be not endangered, we will certainly do it.” “They will not,” replied the man, “I have no claim on you.” One of the others had, however, looked at his feet, and when he saw a horse’s foot and a man’s foot, he did not want to have anything to do with him. The Devil, however, said, “Be easy, I have no designs on you, but on another soul, which is half my own already, and whose measure shall but run full.”As they were now secure, they consented, and the Devil told them what he wanted. The first was to answer, “All three of us,” to every question; the second was to say, “For money,” and the third, “And quite right too!”They were always to say this, one after the other, but they were not to say one word more, and if they disobeyed this order, all their money would disappear at once, but so long as they observed it, their pockets would always be full. As a beginning, he at once gave them as much as they could carry, and told them to go to such and such an inn when they got to the town. They went to it, and the innkeeper came to meet them, and asked if they wished for anything to eat?The first replied, “All three of us.”“Yes,” said the host, “that is what I mean.”The second said, “For money.”“Of course,” said the host. The third said, “And quite right too!”“Certainly it is right,” said the host.Good meat and drink were now brought to them, and they were well waited on. After the dinner came the payment, and the innkeeper gave the bill to the one who said, “All three of us,” the second said, “For money,” and the third, “And quite right too!”“Indeed it is right,” said the host, “all three pay, and without money I can give nothing.”They, however, paid still more than he had asked. The lodgers, who were looking on, said, “These people must be mad.” “Yes, indeed they are,” said the host, “they are not very wise.”So they stayed some time in the inn, and said nothing else but, “All three of us,” “For money,” and “And quite right too!”But they saw and knew all that was going on. It so happened that a great merchant came with a large sum of money, and said, “Sir host, take care of my money for me, here are three crazy apprentices who might steal it from me.”The host did as he was asked. As he was carrying the trunk into his room, he felt that it was heavy with gold. Thereupon he gave the three apprentices a lodging below, but the merchant came up-stairs into a separate apartment. When it was midnight, and the host thought that all were asleep, he came with his wife, and they had an axe and struck the rich merchant dead; and after they had murdered him they went to bed again.When it was day there was a great outcry; the merchant lay dead in bed bathed in blood. All the guests ran at once but the host said, “The three crazy apprentices have done this;” the lodgers confirmed it, and said, “It can have been no one else.”The innkeeper, however, had them called, and said to them, “Have you killed the merchant?”“All three of us,” said the first, “For money,” said the second; and the third added, “And quite right too!”“There now, you hear,” said the host, “they confess it themselves.”They were taken to prison, therefore, and were to be tried. When they saw that things were going so seriously, they were after all afraid, but at night the Devil came and said, “Bear it just one day longer, and do not play away your luck, not one hair of your head shall be hurt.”The next morning they were led to the bar, and the judge said, “Are you the murderers?”“All three of us.” “Why did you kill the merchant?” “For money.” “You wicked wretches, you have no horror of your sins?” “And quite right too!”“They have confessed, and are still stubborn,” said the judge, “lead them to death instantly.” So they were taken out, and the host had to go with them into the circle. When they were taken hold of by the executioner’s men, and were just going to be led up to the scaffold where the headsman was standing with naked sword, a coach drawn by four blood-red chestnut horses came up suddenly, driving so fast that fire flashed from the stones, and some one made signs from the window with a white handkerchief.Then said the headsman, “It is a pardon coming,” and “Pardon! pardon!” was called from the carriage also. Then the Devil stepped out as a very noble gentleman, beautifully dressed and said, “You three are innocent; you may now speak, make known what you have seen and heard.”Then said the eldest, “We did not kill the merchant, the murderer is standing there in the circle,” and he pointed to the innkeeper. “In proof of this, go into his cellar, where many others whom he has killed are still hanging.”Then the judge sent the executioner’s men thither, and they found it was as the apprentices said, and when they had informed the judge of this, he caused the innkeeper to be led up, and his head was cut off.Then said the Devil to the three, “Now I have got the soul which I wanted to have, and you are free, and have money for the rest of your lives.”
There was once a poor man who had twelve children, and he was obliged to labour day and night that he might earn food for them. When at length, as it so happened, a thirteenth came into the world, the poor man did not know how to help himself, so he ran out into the highway, determined to ask the first person he met to be godfather to the boy.There came stalking up to him Death, who said—“Take me for a godfather.”“Who are you?” asked the father.“I am Death, who makes all equal,” replied the stranger.Then said the man—“You are one of the right sort: you seize on rich and poor without distinction; you shall be the child’s godfather.”Death answered—“I will make the boy rich and renowned throughout the world, for he who has me for a friend can want nothing.”Said the man—“Next Sunday will he be christened, mind and come at the right time.”Death accordingly appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather to the child.When the boy grew up his godfather came to him one day, and took him into a wood, and said—“Now shall you have your godfather’s present. I will make a most famous physician of you. Whenever you are called to a sick person, I will take care and show myself to you. If I stand at the foot of the bed, say boldly, ‘I will soon restore you to health,’ and give the patient a little herb that I will point out to you, and he will soon be well. If, however, I stand at the head of the sick person, he is mine; then say, ‘All help is useless; he must soon die.'”Then Death showed him the little herb, and said—“Take heed that you never use it in opposition to my will.”It was not long before the young fellow was the most celebrated physician in the whole world.“The moment he sees a person,” said every one, “he knows whether or not he’ll recover.”Accordingly he was soon in great request. People came from far and near to consult him, and they gave him whatever he required, so that he made an immense fortune. Now, it so happened that the king was taken ill, and the physician was called upon to say whether he must die. As he went up to the bed he saw Death standing at the sick man’s head, so that there was no chance of his recovery. The physician thought, however, that if he outwitted Death, he would not, perhaps, be much offended, seeing that he was his godfather, so he caught hold of the king and turned him round, so that by that means Death was standing at his feet. Then he gave him some of the herb, and the king recovered, and was once more well. Death came up to the physician with a very angry and gloomy countenance, and said—“I will forgive you this time what you have done, because I am your godfather, but if you ever venture to betray me again, you must take the consequences.”Soon after this the king’s daughter fell sick, and nobody could cure her. The old king wept night and day, until his eyes were blinded, and at last he proclaimed that whosoever rescued her from Death should be rewarded by marrying her and inheriting his throne. The physician came, but Death was standing at the head of the princess. When the physician saw the beauty of the king’s daughter, and thought of the promises that the king had made, he forgot all the warnings he had received, and, although Death frowned heavily all the while, he turned the patient so that Death stood at her feet and gave her some of the herb, so that he once more put life into her veins.When Death saw that he was a second time cheated out of his property, he stepped up to the physician, and said—“Now, follow me.”He laid hold of him with his icy cold hand, and led him into a subterranean cave, in which there were thousands and thousands of burning candles, ranged in innumerable rows. Some were whole, some half burnt out, some nearly consumed. Every instant some went out, and fresh ones were lighted, so that the little flames seemed perpetually hopping about.“Behold,” said Death, “the life-candles of mankind. The large ones belong to children, those half consumed to middle-aged people, the little ones to the aged. Yet children and young people have oftentimes but a little candle, and when that is burnt out, their life is at an end, and they are mine.”The physician said—“Show me my candle.”Then Death pointed out a very little candle-end, which was glimmering in the socket, and said—Then the physician said—“O dearest godfather, light me up a new one, that I may first enjoy my life, be king, and husband of the beautiful princess.”“I cannot do so,” said Death; “one must burn out before I can light up another.”“Place the old one then upon a new one, that that may burn on when this is at an end,” said the physician.Death pretended that he would comply with this wish, and reached a large candle, but to revenge himself, purposely failed in putting it up, and the little piece fell and was extinguished. The physician sank with it, so he himself fell into the hands of Death.
Once upon a time there was an old woman, who had two sons. But her older son did not love his parents, and left his mother and brother. The younger one served her so faithfully, however, that all the people spoke of his filial affection.One day it happened that there was a theatrical performance given outside the village. The younger son started to carry his mother there on his back, so that she might look on. But there was a ravine before the village, and he slipped and fell down in the middle of it. And his mother was killed by the rolling stones, and her blood and flesh were sprinkled about everywhere. The son stroked his mother’s corpse, and wept bitterly. He was about to kill himself when, suddenly, he saw a priest standing before him.The latter said: “Have no fear, for I can bring your mother back to life again!” And as he said so, he stooped, gathered up her flesh and bones, and laid them together as they should be. Then he breathed upon them, and at once the mother was alive again. This made the son very happy, and he thanked the priest on his knees. Yet on a sharp point of rock he still saw a bit of his mother’s flesh hanging, a bit about an inch long.“That should not be left hanging there either,” said he, and hid it in his breast.“In truth, you love your mother as a son should,” said the priest. Then he bade the son give him the bit of flesh, kneaded a manikin out of it, breathed upon it, and in a minute there it stood, a really fine-looking little boy.“His name is Small Profit,” said he, turning to the son, “and you may call him brother. You are poor and have not the wherewithal with which to nourish your mother. If you need something, Small Profit can get it for you.”The son thanked him once more, then took his mother on his back again, and his new little brother by the hand, and went home. And when he said to Small Profit: “Bring meat and wine!” then meat and wine were at hand at once, and steaming rice was already cooking in the pot. And when he said to Small Profit: “Bring money and cloth!” then his purse filled itself with money, and the chests were heaped up with cloth to the brim. Whatever he asked for that he received. Thus, in the course of time, they came to be very well off indeed.But his older brother envied him greatly. And when there was another theatrical performance in the village, he took his mother on his back—by force—and went to it. And when he reached the ravine, he slipped purposely, and let his mother fall into the depths, only intent to see that she really was shattered into fragments. And sure enough his mother had such a bad fall that her limbs and trunk were strewn around in all directions. He then climbed down, took his mother’s head in his hands, and pretended to weep.And at once the priest was on hand again, and said: “I can wake the dead to life again, and surround white bones with flesh and blood!”Then he did as he had done before, and the mother came to life again. But the older brother already had hidden one of her ribs on purpose. He now pulled it out and said to the priest: “Here is a bone left. What shall I do with it?”The priest took the bone, enclosed it in lime and earth, breathed upon it, as he had done the other time, and it became a little man, resembling Small Profit, but larger in stature.“His name is Great Duty,” he told his older brother, “if you stick to him he will always lend you a hand.”The son took his mother back again, and Great Duty walked beside him.When he came to their courtyard door, he saw his younger brother coming out, holding Small Profit in his arms.“Where are you going?” he said to him.His brother answered: “Small Profit is a divine being, who does not wish to dwell for all time among men. He wants to fly back to the heavens, and so I am escorting him.”“Give Small Profit to me! Don’t let him get away!” cried the older brother.Yet, before he had ended his speech, Small Profit was rising in the air. The older brother then quickly let his mother drop on the ground, and stretched out his hand to catch Small Profit. But he did not succeed, and now Great Duty, too, rose from the ground, took Small Profit’s hand, and together they ascended to the clouds and disappeared.Then the older brother stamped on the ground, and said with a sigh: “Alas, I have lost my Great Duty because I was too greedy for that Small Profit!”Note: In China—usually on festive days or because of some religious celebration—a provisional stage is erected before the village or temple, and a play given. Permanent theaters are to be found only in the large cities.
The silver foxes resemble other foxes, but are yellow, fire-red or white in color. They know how to influence human beings, too. There is a kind of silver fox which can learn to speak like a man in a year’s time. These foxes are called “Talking Foxes.”South-west of the bay of Kaiutschou there is a mountain by the edge of the sea, shaped like a tower, and hence known as Tower Mountain. On the mountain there is an old temple with the image of a goddess, who is known as the Old Mother of Tower Mountain. When children fall ill in the surrounding villages, the magicians often give orders that paper figures of them be burned at her altar, or little lime images of them be placed around it. And for this reason the altar and its surroundings are covered with hundreds of figures of children made in lime. Paper flowers, shoes and clothing are also brought to the Old Mother, and lie in a confusion of colors. The pilgrimage festivals take place on the third day of the third month, and the ninth day of the ninth month, and then there are theatrical performances, and the holy writings are read. And there is also an annual fair. The girls and women of the neighborhood burn incense and pray to the goddess. Parents who have no children go there and pick out one of the little children made of lime, and tie a red thread around its neck, or even secretly break off a small bit of its body, dissolve it in water and drink it. Then they pray quietly that a child may be sent them.Behind the temple is a great cave where, in former times, some talking foxes used to live. They would even come out and seat themselves on the point of a steep rock by the wayside. When a wanderer came by they would begin to talk to him in this fashion: “Wait a bit, neighbor; first smoke a pipe!” The traveler would look around in astonishment, to see where the voice came from, and would become very much frightened. If he did not happen to be exceptionally brave, he would begin to perspire with terror, and run away. Then the fox would laugh: “Hi hi!”Once a farmer was plowing on the side of the mountain. When he looked up he saw a man with a straw hat, wearing a mantle of woven grass and carrying a pick across his shoulder coming along the way.“Neighbor Wang,” said he, “first smoke a pipeful and take a little rest! Then I will help you plow.”Then he called out “Hu!” the way farmers do when they talk to their cattle.The farmer looked at him more closely and saw then that he was a talking fox. He waited for a favorable opportunity, and when it came gave him a lusty blow with his ox-whip. He struck home, for the fox screamed, leaped into the air and ran away. His straw hat, his mantle of woven grass and the rest he left lying on the ground. Then the farmer saw that the straw hat was just woven out of potato-leaves; he had cut it in two with his whip. The mantle was made of oak-leaves, tied together with little blades of grass. And the pick was only the stem of a kau-ling plant, to which a bit of brick had been fastened.Not long after, a woman in a neighboring village became possessed. A picture of the head priest of the Taoists was hung up in her room, but the evil spirit did not depart. Since there were none who could exorcise devils in the neighborhood, and the trouble she gave was unendurable, the woman’s relatives decided to send to the temple of the God of War and beg for aid.But when the fox heard of it he said: “I am not afraid of your Taoist high-priest nor of your God of War; the only person I fear is your neighbor Wang in the Eastern village, who once struck me cruelly with his whip.”This suited the people to a T. They sent to the Eastern village, and found out who Wang was. And Wang took his ox-whip and entered the house of the possessed woman.Then he said in a deep voice: “Where are you? Where are you? I have been on your trail for a long time. And now, at last, I have caught you!”With that he snapped his whip.The fox hissed and spat and flew out of the window.They had been telling stories about the talking fox of Tower Mountain for more than a hundred years when one fine day, a skilful archer came to that part of the country who saw a creature like a fox, with a fiery-red pelt, whose back was striped with gray. It was lying under a tree. The archer aimed and shot off its hind foot.At once it said in a human voice: “I brought myself into this danger because of my love for sleep; but none may escape their fate! If you capture me you will get at the most no more than five thousand pieces of copper for my pelt. Why not let me go instead? I will reward you richly, so that all your poverty will come to an end.”But the archer would not listen to him. He killed him, skinned him and sold his pelt; and, sure enough, he received five thousand pieces of copper for it.From that time on the fox-spirit ceased to show itself.Note: The silver fox is known in Chinese as “Pi,” the same word also being used for “panthers,” since this legendary beast partakes of the nature of both animals. “The Old Mother” is really the mother-goddess of the Taischan. But in other localities she is chiefly honored as a child-giving goddess. “A picture of the head priest of the Taoists”: Talismans painted by the head priest of the Taoists or the Taoist pope, the so-called “Master of the Heavens,” (Tian Schi) have special virtues against all kinds of sorcery and enchantment. The war god Guan Di also is appealed to as a savior in all sorts of emergencies.
There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved a whole street with gold, and even then we would enough left for a small alley. He did not do so; he knew the value of money better than to use it in this way. He was so clever that every bit of money he put out brought him five times the amount, and so it continued as long as he lived.{Listen to The Flying Trunk plus hundreds of other fairy tale audiobooks in the Fairytalez Audio Book App for Apple and Android devices}His son inherited his wealth, and lived a merry life with it. He went to a ball every night, made kites out of his bills, and threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of stones.He soon lost all his money. At last he had nothing left but a pair of slippers, an old dressing gown, and four small coins. And now all his companions ignored him. They would not walk with him in the streets, but one of them, who was very generous, sent him an old trunk with the message, “Pack up!”“Yes,” he said, “it is all very well to say ‘pack up.'” But he had nothing left to pack, therefore he took a seat in the trunk.It was a very wonderful trunk, for as soon as you pressed on the lock, the trunk would fly.  He shut the lid and pressed the lock, then the trunk up flew up the chimney, right up into the clouds. Whenever the bottom of the trunk made a cracking sound, he was scared for if the trunk had fallen to pieces, he would have somersalted over the trees. However, he arrived safely in Turkey. He hid the trunk in the woods under some dry leaves and then went into town. This he could do very well, because the people were in dressing gowns and slippers, just like he was.He happened to meet a nurse with a little child. “Hello nurse,” he said, “what is that castle near the town, with the windows placed so high?”“The Sultan’s daughter lives there,” she replied. “It has been prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and therefore no one is allowed to visit her unless the king and queen are present.”“Thank you,” said the merchant’s son. So he went back to the wood, sat in his trunk, flew up to the roof of the castle, and crept through the window into the room where the princess lay asleep on the sofa. She awoke and was very much frightened, but he told her he was a Turkish angel who had come down through the air to see her. This pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and talked to her, telling her that her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes, in which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids; and that her forehead was a snowy mountain which contained magnifcent halls full of pictures. He related to her the story about the stork, who brings the beautiful children from the rivers. These stories delighted the princess, and when he asked her if she would marry him, she consented immediately.“But you must come on Saturday,” she said, “for my parents plan tea with me. They will be very proud when they find out I will marry a Turkish angel. But you must think of some very pretty stories to tell them, for they like to hear stories more than anything. My mother prefers one that is deep and moral, but my father likes something funny, to make him laugh.”“Very well,” he replied, “I shall bring you nothing other than a story”; and so he left. But the princess gave him a sword studded with gold coins, he knew he could use it.He flew back to the town and bought a new dressing gown, and afterwards returned to the woods, where he wrote a story so he could be ready by Saturday; and that was not easy. It was ready, however, when he went to see the princess on Saturday. The king and queen and the whole court were at tea with the princess, and he was received politely.“Will you tell us a story?” said the queen; “one that instructs and is full of learning.”“Yes, but with something in it to laugh at,” said the king.“Certainly,” he replied, and started at once, asking them to listen carefully.“There was once a bundle of matches that were exceedingly proud of their history. Their tree—that is, a great pine tree from which they had been cut—was once a large old tree in the wood. The matches now lay between a tinder box and an old iron saucepan and were talking about their youthful days. ‘Ah! then we grew on the green boughs,’ said they, ‘and every morning and evening we were fed with diamond drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone we felt his warm rays, and the little birds would tell stories to us in their songs. We knew that we were rich, for the other trees only wore their green dresses in summer, while our family were able to wear green in summer and winter. But the woodcutter came like a great disaster, and our family fell under the ax. The head of the house became the mast in a very fine ship and can sail around the world. Other branches of the family were taken to different places, and we are now used to kindle a light for common people. This is how we came to be in a kitchen.’“‘Mine has been a very different fate,’ said the iron pot, which stood by the matches. ‘From my first entrance into the world I have been used to cooking and scouring. I am the first thing used in the house when something solid or useful is required. My only task is to be clean and shining after dinner and to sit in my place and have a little sensible conversation with my neighbors. All of us except the water bucket, which is sometimes taken into the courtyard, live here together within these four walls. We get our news from the market basket, but it sometimes tells us very unpleasant things about the people and the government. Yes, and one day an old pot was so alarmed that it fell down and broke in pieces.’“‘You are talking too much,’ said the tinder box; and the steel struck against the flint till some sparks flew out, crying, ‘We want a merry evening, don’t we?’“‘Yes, of course,’ said the matches. ‘Let us talk about those who are from the highest family.’“‘No, I don’t like to be always talking of what we are,’ said the saucepan. ‘Let us think of some other story; I will begin. We will tell something that has happened to ourselves; that will be very easy, and interesting as well. On the Baltic Sea, near the Danish shore—’“‘What a pretty beginning!’ said the plates. ‘I am sure we will all like that story.’“‘Yes. Well, in my youth I lived in a quiet family where the furniture was polished, the floors cleaned, and clean curtains put up, every four weeks.’“‘What an interesting way you have of relating a story,’ said the carpet broom. ‘It is easy to perceive that you have been in society a great deal a great deal as something so pure runs through what you say.’“‘That is quite true,’ said the water bucket; and it jumped with with joy and splashed some water on the floor.“Then the saucepan went on with its story, and the end was as good as the beginning.“The plates rattled with pleasure, and the carpet broom brought some green parsley out of the dust hole and crowned the saucepan. It knew this would annoy the others, but it thought, ‘If I crown him today, he will crown me tomorrow.’“‘Now let us dance,’ said the fire tongs. Then how they danced and stuck one leg in the air! The chair cushion in the corner burst with laughter at the sight.“‘Shall I be crowned now?’ asked the fire tongs. So the broom found another wreath for the tongs.“‘They are only common people after all,’ thought the matches. The tea urn was now asked to sing, but she said she had a cold and could not sing unless she felt boiling heat within. They all thought this was fake; they also considered it fake that she did not wish to sing except in the parlor, when on the table with the grand people.“In the window sat an old quill pen  that the maid generally used. There was nothing remarkable about the pen, except that it had been dipped too deeply in the ink; but it was proud of that.“‘If the tea urn won’t sing,’ said the pen, ‘she doesn’t need to. There’s a nightingale in a cage outside, that can sing. She has not been taught much, certainly, but we don’t need to say anything about that.’“‘I think its highly improper,’ said the teakettle, who was kitchen singer and half brother to the tea urn, ‘that a rich foreign bird  be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the market basket decide what is right.’“‘I certainly am annoyed,’ said the basket, ‘inwardly annoyed, more than you can imagine. Are we spending the evening well? Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each were in his own place, I would lead a game. This would be quite another thing.’“‘Let us put on a play,’ said they all. At that moment the door opened and the maid came in. Then not one stirred; they remained quite still, although all of them thought highly of themselves and thought they could do what they chose.“‘Yes, if we had chosen,’ each of them thought, ‘we might have spent a very pleasant evening.’“The maid took the matches and lighted them, and dear me, how they spluttered and blazed up!“‘Now then,’ they thought, ‘every one will see that we are the first. How we shine! What a light we give!’ But even while they spoke their lights went out.”“What an excellent story!” said the queen. “I feel as if I were really in the kitchen and could see the matches. Yes, you may marry our daughter.”“Certainly,” said the king, “you shall have our daughter.” The king said “you” to him because he was going to be one of the family. The wedding day was fixed, and on the evening before, the whole city was illuminated. Cakes and treats were thrown among the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted “Hurrah,” and whistled between their fingers. Altogether it was a very grand affair.“I will give them another treat,” said the merchant’s son. So he went and bought rockets and crackers and every kind of fireworks that could be thought of, packed them in his trunk, and flew up with it into the air. What a whizzing and popping they made as they went off! The Turks, when they saw the sight, jumped so high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was easy to believe after this that the princess was really going to marry a Turkish angel.As soon as the merchant’s son had come down to the woods after the fireworks, he thought, “I will go back into the town now and hear what they think of the entertainment.” It was very natural that he wanted to know. And what strange things people did say, to be sure! Every one he asked told a different story, though they all thought it was very beautiful.“I saw the Turkish angel myself,” one person said. “He had eyes like glittering stars and a head like foaming water.”“He flew in a mantle of fire,” said another, “and lovely little angels peeped out from the folds.”He heard many more fine things about himself and that the next day he was to be married. After this he went back to the forest to sit himself in his trunk. It had disappeared! A spark from the continued fireworks had set it on fire. It was burned to ash. So the merchant’s son could not fly any more, nor go to meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof, waiting for him, and most likely she is waiting there still, while he wanders through the world telling fairy tales—but none of them so amusing as the one he related about the matches.
Once upon a time, there was a man and his wife who were very poor. The man earned his living making wooden bowls and platters to sell and worked early and late, but wooden bowls and platters were so very cheap that he could barely support his family no matter how hard he worked. The man and his wife were the parents of three lovely daughters. They were all exceedingly beautiful, and the man and his wife often lamented the fact that they did not have money enough to educate them and clothe them fittingly.One day there came to the door of the poor man’s house a handsome young man mounted on a beautiful horse. He asked to buy one of the poor man’s daughters. The father was very much shocked at this request. “I may be poor,” said he, “but I am not so poor that I have to sell my children.”The young man, however, threatened to kill him if he refused to do his bidding; so finally, after a short struggle, the father consented to part with his eldest daughter. He received a great sum of money in return.The father was now a rich man and did not wish to make bowls and platters any longer. His wife, however, urged him to keep on with his former occupation. Accordingly he went on with his work. The very next day there came to his door another young man, even handsomer than the other, mounted upon even a finer horse. This young man made the same request that the other had done. He wanted to buy one of the daughters.The father burst into tears and told all the dreadful happenings of the day before. The young man, however, showed no pity and continued to demand one of the daughters. He made fearful threats if the man would not yield to his request, and the father became so frightened that he at length parted with his second daughter. The first young man had paid a great sum of money, but this one paid even more.Though he was now very rich, the father still went on making bowls and platters to please his wife. The next day when he was at work the handsomest young man he had ever seen appeared riding upon a most beautiful steed. This young man demanded the third daughter. The poor father had to yield just as before, though it nearly broke his heart to part with his only remaining child. The price which the young man paid was so very great that the family was now as rich as it had once been poor.Their home was not childless very long, for soon a baby son came to them. They brought up the boy in great luxury. One day when the child was at school he quarrelled with one of his playmates. This taunt was thrown in his face: “Ah, ha! You think your father was always rich, do you? He is a rich man now, it is true, but it is because he sold your three sisters.” The words made the boy sad, but he said nothing about the matter at home. He hid it away in his mind until he had become a man. Then he went to his father and mother and demanded that they should tell him all about it.His parents told the young man the whole story of the strange experiences through which they had obtained their wealth. “I am now a man,” said the son. “I feel that it is right that I should go out into the world in search of my sisters. Perhaps I might be able to find them and aid them in some way. Give me your blessing and allow me to go.”His father and mother gave him their blessing, and the young man started out to make a search through all the world. Soon he came to a house where there were three brothers quarrelling over a boot, a cap, and a key. “What is the matter?” asked the young man. “Why are these things so valuable that you should quarrel over them?”The brothers replied that if one said to the boot, “O Boot, put me somewhere,” the boot would immediately put him anywhere he wished to go. If one said to the cap, “O Cap, hide me,” immediately the cap would hide him so he could not be seen. The key could unlock any door in the whole world. The young man at once wanted to own these things himself, and he offered so much money for them that at last the three brothers decided to end their quarrel by selling the boot, the cap, and the key and dividing the money.The young man put the three treasures in his saddle bag and went on his way. As soon as he was out of sight of the house he said to the boot, “O Boot, put me in the house of my eldest sister.”Immediately the young man found himself in the most magnificent palace he had ever seen in his life. He asked to speak with his sister, but the queen of the palace replied that she had no brother and did not wish to be bothered with the stranger. It took much urging for the young man to gain permission from her to relate his story; but, when she had once heard it, everything sounded so logical that she decided to receive him as her brother. She asked how he had ever found her home, and how he had come through the thicket which surrounded her palace. The young man told her about his magic boot.In the afternoon the queen suddenly burst into tears. Her brother asked what the trouble was. “O dear! O dear! What shall we do! What shall we do!” sobbed the queen. “My husband is King of the Fishes. When he comes home to dinner tonight he will be very angry to find a human in his palace.” The young man told her about his magic cap and comforted her fears.Soon the King of Fishes arrived, accompanied by all his advisors He came into the palace in a very bad temper, giving kicks and blows to everything which came in his way, and saying in a fierce, savage voice, “Lee, low, lee, leer, I smell the blood of a human, here. I smell the blood of a human, here.”It took much persuasion on the part of the queen to get him to take a bath. After his bath he appeared in the form of a handsome man. He then ate his dinner, and when he had nearly finished the meal his wife said to him, “If you should see my brother here, what would you do to him?”“I would be kind to him, of course, just as I am to you,” responded the King of the Fishes. “If he is here let him appear.”The young man then took off the magic cap by which he had hidden himself. The king treated him most kindly and courteously. He invited him to live for the rest of his life in the palace. The young man declined the invitation, saying that he had two other sisters to visit. He took his departure soon, and when he went away his brother-in-law gave him a scale with these words: “If you are ever in any danger in which I can help you, take this scale and say, ‘Help me, O King of the Fishes.’”The young man put the scale in his saddle bag. Then he took out his magic boot and said, “O Boot, put me in the home of my second sister.” He found his second sister queen of even a more wonderful palace than his eldest sister. Her husband was King of Rams and treated the newly found brother of his queen with great consideration. When the young man had finished his visit there the King of Rams gave him a piece of wool saying, “If you are ever in any peril in which I can help you pull this wool and ask help of the King of Rams.”With the aid of his magic boot the young man went to visit the home of his youngest sister. He found her in the most magnificent palace of them all. Her husband was King of Pigeons. When the young man departed, he gave him a feather telling him if he was ever in any danger that all he had to do was to pull the feather and say, “Help me, O King of the Pigeons.”All three of the young man’s brothers-in-law had admired the power of his magic boot and they had all advised him to visit the land of the King of Giants by means of it. After having left each of his three sisters full of happiness in her costly palace, he felt free to act upon this advice, so by means of his magic boot he again found himself in a new country.He soon heard on the street that the King of the land of Giants had a beautiful giantess daughter whom he wished to give in marriage if she could be persuaded to choose a husband. She was such a famous beauty that no one could pass before her palace without eagerly gazing up in hopes of seeing her lovely face at the window. The giant princess had grown weary of being the object of so much attention, and she had made a vow that she would marry no one except a man who could pass before her without lifting his eyes.The young man became interested when he heard this and at once rode past the palace with his eyes fixed steadily on the ground. He did not give a single glance upward in the direction of the window where the beautiful giant princess was watching him. The princess was overcome with joy at the sight of the handsome stranger who appeared as if in response to her vow. The king summoned him to the palace at once and ordered that the wedding should be celebrated immediately.After the wedding the giant princess soon found out that her husband carried his choicest treasures in his saddle bags. She inquired their significance and her husband told her all about them. She was especially interested in the key. She said that there was a room in the palace which was never opened. In this room there was a fierce beast which always came to life again whenever it was killed. The giant princess had always been anxious to see the beast with her own eyes, and she suggested that they should use the key to unlock the door of the forbidden room and take a peep at the beast.Her husband, however, gave her no encouragement to do this. He decided that it was too risky a bit of amusement; but one day when he had gone hunting with the king and court the princess was overjoyed to find that the magic key had been left behind. She at once picked it up and opened the forbidden door. The beast gave a great leap, roaring out at her, “You are the very one I have sought,” as he seized her with his sharp claws.When her husband and father returned from their hunting trip they were very much worried to find that the princess had disappeared. No one knew where she was. After searching through the palace and garden all in vain they went to the place where the beast was always kept. The prince recognized his magic key in the door, but the room was empty. The beast had fled with the giant princess.Once more the young man made use of his magic boot and soon was by the side of the princess. The beast had hidden her in a cave by the sea and had gone away in search of food. The giant princess was delighted to find her husband whom she had never expected to see again and wanted to hasten away from the cave with him at once.“You have got yourself into this affair,” said her husband. “I can get you out again, I think, but I believe that it is your duty to at least make an effort to take the beast’s life. Perhaps when he comes back to the cave you can extract from him the secret of his charmed life.”The princess awaited the return of the beast. Then she asked him to tell her the secret of his charmed life. The beast was very much flattered to have the giant princess so interested in him, and he told it to her at once. He never thought of a plot. This is what he said: “My life is in the sea. In the sea there is a chest. In the chest there is a stone. In the stone there is a pigeon. In the pigeon there is an egg. In the egg there is a candle. At the moment when that candle is extinguished I die.”All this time the prince had remained there, hiding under his magic cap. He heard every word the beast said. As soon as the beast had gone to sleep the prince stood on the seashore and said: “Help me, O King of the Fishes,” as he took out the scale which his brother-in-law had given him. Immediately there appeared a great multitude of fishes asking what he wished them to do. He asked them to get the chest from the depths of the sea. They replied that they had never seen such a chest, but that probably the sword-fish would know about it.They hastened to call the sword-fish and he came at once. He said that he had seen the chest only a moment before. All the fishes went with him to get it, and they soon brought the chest out of the sea. The prince opened the chest easily with the aid of his magic key, and inside he found a stone.Then the prince pulled the piece of wool which his second brother-in-law had given him and said, “Help me, O King of the Rams.” Immediately there appeared a great drove of rams, running to the seashore from all directions. They attacked the stone, giving it mighty blows with their hard heads and horns. Soon they broke open the stone, and from out of it there flew a pigeon.The beast now awoke from his sleep and knew that he was very ill. He remembered all that he had told the princess and accused her of having made a plot against his life. He seized his great ax to kill the princess.In the meantime, the prince had pulled the feather which his third brother-in-law had given him and cried, “Help me, O King of the Pigeons.” Immediately a great flock of pigeons appeared attacking the pigeon and tearing it to pieces.Just as the beast had caught the princess and was about to slay her, the prince took the egg from within the slain pigeon. He at once broke the egg and blew out the candle. At that moment the beast fell dead, and the princess escaped unharmed.The prince carried the giant princess home to her father’s kingdom and the king made a great festa which lasted many days. There was rejoicing throughout the whole kingdom because of the death of the beast and because of the safety of the lovely princess. The prince was praised throughout the kingdom and there is talk of him even unto this very day.The prince had cut off the head of the great beast and the tip of its tail. The head he had given to the king, but the tip of the tail he kept for himself. The beast was so enormous that just the tip of its tail made a great ring large enough to encircle the prince’s body. One day, just in fun, he twined the tip of the beast’s tail around his waist. He immediately grew and grew until he became a giant himself, almost as tall as the king of the land of giants, and several leagues taller than the princess. It is not strange that a man who became a giant among giants should be famous even until now.
I will tell you a story about the wren. There was once a farmer who was seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: “What are you seeking?”“I am seeking a servant,” said the farmer to the wren.“Will you take me?” said the wren.“You, you poor creature, what good would you do?”“Try me,” said the wren.So he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshing in the barn. The wren threshed (what did he thresh with? Why a flail to be sure), and he knocked off one grain. A mouse came out and she eats that.“I’ll trouble you not to do that again,” said the wren.He struck again, and he struck off two grains. Out came the mouse and she eats them. So they arranged a contest to see who was strongest, and the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse her tribe.“You have your tribe with you,” said the wren.“As well as yourself,” said the mouse, and she struck out her leg proudly. But the wren broke it with his flail, and there was a pitched battle on a set day.When every creature and bird was gathering to battle, the son of the king of Tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and that he would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of the creatures this year. The battle was over before he arrived all but one fight, between a great black raven and a snake. The snake was twined about the raven’s neck, and the raven held the snake’s throat in his beak, and it seemed as if the snake would get the victory over the raven. When the king’s son saw this he helped the raven, and with one blow takes the head off the snake. When the raven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead, he said, “For thy kindness to me this day, I will give thee a sight. Come up now on the root of my two wings.” The king’s son put his hands about the raven before his wings, and, before he stopped, he took him over nine Bens, and nine Glens, and nine Mountain Moors.“Now,” said the raven, “see you that house yonder? Go now to it. It is a sister of mine that makes her dwelling in it; and I will go bail that you are welcome. And if she asks you, Were you at the battle of the birds? say you were. And if she asks, ‘Did you see any one like me,’ say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrow morning here, in this place.” The king’s son got good and right good treatment that night. Meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warm water to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs.On the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six Bens, and six Glens, and six Mountain Moors. They saw a bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. He got good treatment this night, as before—plenty of meat and drink, and warm water to his feet, and a soft bed to his limbs—and on the next day it was the same thing, over three Bens and three Glens, and three Mountain Moors.On the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as at the other times, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever saw, with gold rings in his hair, with a bundle in his hand. The king’s son asked this lad if he had seen a big black raven.Said the lad to him, “You will never see the raven again, for I am that raven. I was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meeting you that loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. Now,” said the lad, “you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie a night in each house as before; but you must not loose the bundle which I gave ye, till in the place where you would most wish to dwell.”The king’s son turned his back to the lad, and his face to his father’s house; and he got lodging from the raven’s sisters, just as he got it when going forward. When he was nearing his father’s house he was going through a close wood. It seemed to him that the bundle was growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it.When he loosed the bundle he was astonished. In a twinkling he sees the very grandest place he ever saw. A great castle, and an orchard about the castle, in which was every kind of fruit and herb. He stood full of wonder and regret for having loosed the bundle—for it was not in his power to put it back again—and he would have wished this pretty place to be in the pretty little green hollow that was opposite his father’s house; but he looked up and saw a great giant coming towards him.“Bad’s the place where you have built the house, king’s son,” says the giant.“Yes, but it is not here I would wish it to be, though it happens to be here by mishap,” says the king’s son.“What’s the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it was before?”“What’s the reward you would ask?” says the king’s son.“That you will give me the first son you have when he is seven years of age,” says the giant.“If I have a son you shall have him,” said the king’s son.In a twinkling the giant put each garden, and orchard, and castle in the bundle as they were before.“Now,” says the giant, “take your own road, and I will take mine; but mind your promise, and if you forget I will remember.”The king’s son took to the road, and at the end of a few days he reached the place he was fondest of. He loosed the bundle, and the castle was just as it was before. And when he opened the castle door he sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye upon.“Advance, king’s son,” said the pretty maid; “everything is in order for you, if you will marry me this very day.”“It’s I that am willing,” said the king’s son. And on the same day they married.But at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen coming to the castle but the giant. The king’s son was reminded of his promise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise to the queen.“Leave the matter between me and the giant,” says the queen.“Turn out your son,” says the giant; “mind your promise.”“You shall have him,” says the king, “when his mother puts him in order for his journey.”The queen dressed up the cook’s son, and she gave him to the giant by the hand. The giant went away with him; but he had not gone far when he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. The giant asked him—“If thy father had that rod what would he do with it?”“If my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, so that they shouldn’t be going near the king’s meat,” said the little laddie.“Thou’rt the cook’s son,” said the giant. He catches him by the two small ankles and knocks him against the stone that was beside him. The giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that if they did not send out the king’s son to him, the highest stone of the castle would be the lowest.Said the queen to the king, “We’ll try it yet; the butler’s son is of the same age as our son.”She dressed up the butler’s son, and she gives him to the giant by the hand. The giant had not gone far when he put the rod in his hand.“If thy father had that rod,” says the giant, “what would he do with it?”“He would beat the dogs and the cats when they would be coming near the king’s bottles and glasses.”“Thou art the son of the butler,” says the giant and dashed his brains out too. The giant returned in a very great rage and anger. The earth shook under the sole of his feet, and the castle shook and all that was in it.“OUT HERE WITH THY SON,” says the giant, “or in a twinkling the stone that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest.” So they had to give the king’s son to the giant.When they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showed him the rod that was in his hand and said: “What would thy father do with this rod if he had it?”The king’s son said: “My father has a braver rod than that.”And the giant asked him, “Where is thy father when he has that brave rod?”And the king’s son said: “He will be sitting in his kingly chair.”Then the giant understood that he had the right one.The giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his own son. On a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heard the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant’s house. At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. She beckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her name was Auburn Mary but she told him to go this time, but to be sure to be at the same place about that dead midnight.And as he promised he did. The giant’s daughter was at his side in a twinkling, and she said, “To-morrow you will get the choice of my two sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me. My father wants me to marry the son of the king of the Green City, but I don’t like him.” On the morrow the giant took out his three daughters, and he said:“Now, son of the king of Tethertown, thou hast not lost by living with me so long. Thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of my daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after the wedding.”“If you will give me this pretty little one,” says the king’s son, “I will take you at your word.”The giant’s wrath kindled, and he said: “Before thou gett’st her thou must do the three things that I ask thee to do.”“Say on,” says the king’s son.The giant took him to the byre.“Now,” says the giant, “a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it has not been cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, and if this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my daughter, but ’tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood that will quench my thirst this night.”He begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well to keep baling the great ocean. After midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant’s youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to him:“You are being punished, king’s son.”“I am that,” says the king’s son.“Come over,” says Auburn Mary, “and lay down your weariness.”“I will do that,” says he, “there is but death awaiting me, at any rate.” He sat down near her. He was so tired that he fell asleep beside her. When he awoke, the giant’s daughter was not to be seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from end to end of it and raise no stain. In comes the giant, and he said:“Hast thou cleaned the byre, king’s son?”“I have cleaned it,” says he.“Somebody cleaned it,” says the giant.“You did not clean it, at all events,” said the king’s son.“Well, well!” says the giant, “since thou wert so active to-day, thou wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds’ down, from birds with no two feathers of one colour.”The king’s son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow and his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He took to the moors, but if he did, the birds were not so easy to take. He was running after them till the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who should come but Auburn Mary.“You are exhausting yourself, king’s son,” says she.“I am,” said he.“There fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour.”“Come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock,” says the giant’s daughter.“It’s I am willing,” said he.He thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near her, and he was not long there till he fell asleep.When he awoke, Auburn Mary was gone. He thought he would go back to the house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. When the giant came home, he said:“Hast thou thatched the byre, king’s son?”“I thatched it,” says he.“Somebody thatched it,” says the giant.“You did not thatch it,” says the king’s son.“Yes, yes!” says the giant. “Now,” says the giant, “there is a fir tree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie’s nest in its top. The eggs thou wilt find in the nest. I must have them for my first meal. Not one must be burst or broken, and there are five in the nest.”Early in the morning the king’s son went where the tree was, and that tree was not hard to hit upon. Its match was not in the whole wood. From the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. The king’s son was going all round the tree. She came who was always bringing help to him.“You are losing the skin of your hands and feet.”“Ach! I am,” says he. “I am no sooner up than down.”“This is no time for stopping,” says the giant’s daughter. “Now you must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you are climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sure and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth, arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water from the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don’t forget a bone of me on the tree.”“How could I kill you,” asked the king’s son, “after what you have done for me?”“If you won’t obey, you and I are done for,” said Auburn Mary. “You must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must do as I say.” The king’s son obeyed. He killed Auburn Mary, cut the flesh from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him.As he went up, the king’s son put the bones of Auburn Mary’s body against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came under the nest and stood on the last bone.Then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone, then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so near the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot.He now placed all the bones of Auburn Mary in order again at the side of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water from the spring. She rose up before him, and said: “Didn’t I tell you not to leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? Now I am lame for life! You left my little finger on the tree without touching it, and I have but nine fingers.”“Now,” says she, “go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get me to marry to-night if you can know me. I and my two sisters will be arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me when my father says, ‘Go to thy wife, king’s son;’ and you will see a hand without a little finger.”He gave the eggs to the giant.“Yes, yes!” says the giant, “be making ready for your marriage.”Then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it was a wedding! Giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the Green City was in the midst of them. They were married, and the dancing began, that was a dance! The giant’s house was shaking from top to bottom.But bed time came, and the giant said, “It is time for thee to go to rest, son of the king of Tethertown; choose thy bride to take with thee from amidst those.”She put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caught her by the hand.“Thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but we may meet thee another way,” said the giant.But to rest they went. “Now,” says she, “sleep not, or else you are a dead man. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will kill you.”Out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable they mounted. “Stop a while,” says she, “and I will play a trick to the old hero.” She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of the bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares at the big door, and one outside the house.The giant awoke and called, “Are you asleep?”“Not yet,” said the apple that was at the head of the bed.At the end of a while he called again.“Not yet,” said the apple that was at the foot of the bed.A while after this he called again: “Are your asleep?”“Not yet,” said the apple at the kitchen door.The giant called again.The apple that was at the big door answered.“You are now going far from me,” says the giant.“Not yet,” says the apple that was outside the house.“You are flying,” says the giant. The giant jumped on his feet, and to the bed he went, but it was cold—empty.“My own daughter’s tricks are trying me,” said the giant. “Here’s after them,” says he.At the mouth of day, the giant’s daughter said that her father’s breath was burning her back.“Put your hand, quick,” said she, “in the ear of the grey filly, and whatever you find in it, throw it behind us.”“There is a twig of sloe tree,” said he.“Throw it behind us,” said she.No sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it.The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck in the thorns.“My own daughter’s tricks are here as before,” said the giant; “but if I had my own big axe and wood knife here, I would not be long making a way through this.”He went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not long on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. He was not long making a way through the blackthorn.“I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return,” says he.“If you leave ’em, leave ’em,” said a hoodie that was in a tree, “we’ll steal ’em, steal ’em.”“If you will do that,” says the giant, “I must take them home.” He returned home and left them at the house.At the heat of day the giant’s daughter felt her father’s breath burning her back.“Put your finger in the filly’s ear, and throw behind whatever you find in it.”He got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them.The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go.“The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met me,” says the giant; “but if I had my lever and my mighty mattock, I would not be long in making my way through this rock also.”There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was the boy to split the stones. He was not long in making a road through the rock.“I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more.”“If you leave ’em, leave ’em,” says the hoodie, “we will steal ’em, steal ’em.”“Do that if you will; there is no time to go back.”At the time of breaking the watch, the giant’s daughter said that she felt her father’s breath burning her back.“Look in the filly’s ear, king’s son, or else we are lost.”He did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this time. He threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them.The giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in the middle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more.On the next day the young companions were come in sight of his father’s house. “Now,” says she, “my father is drowned, and he won’t trouble us any more; but before we go further,” says she, “go you to your father’s house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let neither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not remember that you have ever seen me.”Every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged his father and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old greyhound was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not remember the giant’s daughter.She was sitting at the well’s side as he left her, but the king’s son was not coming. In the mouth of night she climbed up into a tree of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of that tree all night. A shoemaker had a house near the well, and about mid-day on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a drink for him out of the well. When the shoemaker’s wife reached the well, and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking it was her own shadow—and she never thought till now that she was so handsome—she gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was broken on the ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or water.“Where is the water, wife?” said the shoemaker.“You shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayed too long your water and wood thrall.”“I think, wife, that you have turned crazy. Go you, daughter, quickly, and fetch a drink for your father.”His daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. She never thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself home.“Up with the drink,” said her father.“You home-spun shoe carle, do you think I am fit to be your thrall?”The poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in their understandings, and he went himself to the well. He saw the shadow of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he sees the finest woman he ever saw.“Your seat is wavering, but your face is fair,” said the shoemaker.“Come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house.”The shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had driven his people mad. The shoemaker took her to his house, and he said that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of all that was in it.One day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the king’s son was to be married. The shoemaker was going to the castle with the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the shoemaker, “I would like to get a sight of the king’s son before he marries.”“Come with me,” says the shoemaker, “I am well acquainted with the servants at the castle, and you shall get a sight of the king’s son and all the company.”And when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was here they took her to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of wine. When she was going to drink what is in it, a flame went up out of the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. They were flying about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. The silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up.Said the golden pigeon to him, “If you remembered when I cleared the byre, you would not eat that without giving me a share.”Again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up as before.“If you remembered when I thatched the byre, you would not eat that without giving me my share,” says the golden pigeon.Three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up.“If you remembered when I harried the magpie’s nest, you would not eat that without giving me my share,” says the golden pigeon; “I lost my little finger bringing it down, and I want it still.”The king’s son minded, and he knew who it was that was before him.“Well,” said the king’s son to the guests at the feast, “when I was a little younger than I am now, I lost the key of a casket that I had. I had a new key made, but after it was brought to me I found the old one. Now, I’ll leave it to any one here to tell me what I am to do. Which of the keys should I keep?”“My advice to you,” said one of the guests, “is to keep the old key, for it fits the lock better and you’re more used to it.”Then the king’s son stood up and said: “I thank you for a wise advice and an honest word. This is my bride the daughter of the giant who saved my life at the risk of her own. I’ll have her and no other woman.”So the king’s son married Auburn Mary and the wedding lasted long and all were happy. But all I got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a basket, and they sent me for water to the stream, and the paper shoes came to an end.
A charcoal-burner carried on his trade in his own house. One day he met a friend, a Fuller, and entreated him to come and live with him, saying that they should be far better neighbors and that their housekeeping expenses would be lessened. The Fuller replied, “The arrangement is impossible as far as I am concerned, for whatever I should whiten, you would immediately blacken again with your charcoal.”Like will draw like.
Once upon a time there was a farmer who had carted pears to market. Since they were very sweet and fragrant, he hoped to get a good price for them. A bonze with a torn cap and tattered robe stepped up to his cart and asked for one. The farmer repulsed him, but the bonze did not go. Then the farmer grew angry and began to call him names. The bonze said: “You have pears by the hundred in your cart. I only ask for one. Surely that does you no great injury. Why suddenly grow so angry about it?”{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback. This Chinese folktale is also available in audiobook in the Fairytalez Audio App for Apple and Android devices}The bystanders told the farmer that he ought to give the bonze one of the smaller pears and let him go. But the farmer would not and did not. An artisan saw the whole affair from his shop, and since the noise annoyed him, he took some money, bought a pear and gave it to the bonze.The bonze thanked him and said: “One like myself, who has given up the world, must not be miserly. I have beautiful pears myself, and I invite you all to eat them with me.” Then some one asked: “If you have pears then why do you not eat your own?” He answered: “I first must have a seed to plant.”And with that he began to eat the pear with gusto. When he had finished, he held the pit in his hand, took his pick-ax from his shoulder; and dug a hole a couple of inches deep. Into this he thrust the pit, and covered it with earth. Then he asked the folk in the market place for water, with which to water it. A pair of curiosity seekers brought him hot water from the hostelry in the street, and with it the bonze watered the pit. Thousands of eyes were turned on the spot. And the pit could already be seen to sprout.The sprout grew and in a moment it had turned into a tree. Branches and leaves burgeoned out from it. It began to blossom and soon the fruit had ripened: large, fragrant pears, which hung in thick clusters from the boughs. The bonze climbed into the tree and handed down the pears to the bystanders. In a moment all the pears had been eaten up. Then the bonze took his pick-ax and cut down the tree. Crash, crash! so it went for a while, and the tree was felled. Then he took the tree on his shoulder and walked away at an easy gait.When the bonze had begun to make his magic, the farmer, too, had mingled with the crowd. With neck outstretched and staring eyes he had stood there and had entirely forgotten the business he hoped to do with his pears. When the bonze had gone off he turned around to look after his cart. His pears had all disappeared. Then he realized that the pears the bonze had divided had been his own. He looked more closely, and the axle of his cart had disappeared. It was plainly evident that it had been chopped off quite recently. The farmer fell into a rage and hastened after the bonze as fast as ever he could. And when he turned the corner, there lay the missing piece from the axle by the city wall. And then he realized that the pear-tree which the bonze had chopped down must have been his axle. The bonze, however, was nowhere to be found. And the whole crowd in the market burst out into loud laughter.Note: The axle in China is really a handle, for the little Chinese carts are one-wheel push-carts with two handles or shafts.
Many ages ago when the world was still young, Raven and White Sea-gull lived near together in Canada, far in the north country on the shores of the Great Water in the west. They were very good friends and they always worked in harmony and they had much food and many servants in common. White Sea-gull knew no guile; he was always very open and frank and honest in his dealings with others. But Raven was a sly fellow, and at times he was not lacking in treachery and deceit. But Sea-gull did not suspect him, and the two lived always on very friendly terms. In these far-back times in the north country all the world was dark and there was no light but that of the stars. Sea-gull owned all the daylight, but he was very stingy and he kept it always locked up in a box. He would give none of it to anyone else, and he never let it out of the box except when he needed a little of it to help himself when he went far away on his journeys.After a time Raven grew envious of Sea-gull’s possession. And he said, “It is not fair that Sea-gull should keep the daylight all to himself locked up in a box. It was meant for all the world and not for him alone, and it would be of great value to all of us if he would sometimes let a little of it out.” So he went to Sea-gull and said, “Give me some of your daylight. You do not need it all and I can use some of it with advantage.” But Sea-gull said, “No. I want it all for myself. What could you do with daylight, you with your coat as black as night?” and he would not give him any of it. So Raven made up his mind that he would have to get some daylight from Sea-gull by stealth.Soon afterwards Raven gathered some prickly thorns and burdocks and scattered them on the ground between Sea-gull’s house and the beach where the canoes were lying. Then he went to Sea-gull’s window and cried loudly, “Our canoes are going adrift in the surf. Come quickly and help me to save them.” Sea-gull sprang out of bed and ran half-asleep on his bare feet. But as he ran to the beach the thorns stuck in his bare flesh, and he howled with pain. He crawled back to his house, saying, “My canoe may go adrift if it pleases; I cannot walk because of the splinters in my feet.”Raven chuckled to himself, and he moved away, pretending to go to the beach to draw up the canoes. Then he went into Sea-gull’s house. Sea-gull was still howling with pain; he was sitting crying on the side of his bed and he was trying to pull the thorns from his feet as best he could.“I will help you,” said Raven, “for I have often done this before. I am a very good doctor.” So he took an awl made from whale-bone and he caught hold of Sea-gull’s foot, with the pretense of removing the thorns. But instead of taking them out he only pushed them in farther until poor Sea-gull howled louder than ever.And Raven said, “It is so dark I cannot see to pull these thorns from your feet. Give me some daylight and I will soon cure you. A doctor must always have a little light.” So Sea-gull unlocked the box and lifted the cover just a little bit so that a faint gleam of light came out.“That is better,” said Raven. But instead of picking out the thorns he pushed them in as he had done before, until Sea-gull howled and kicked in pain. “Why are you so stingy with your light?” snapped Raven. “Do you think I am an owl and that I can see well enough in the darkness to heal your feet? Open the box wide and I will soon make you well.”So saying, he purposely fell heavily against Sea-gull and knocked the box on the floor. The cover flew open and daylight escaped and spread quickly over all the world. Poor Sea-gull tried his best to lure it back again into the box, but his efforts proved fruitless, for it had gone for ever. Raven said he was very sorry for the accident, but after he had taken all the thorns from Sea-gull’s feet he went home laughing to himself and well pleased because of the success of his trick.Soon there was light in all the world. But Raven could not see very well, for the light was too bright and his eyes were not accustomed to it. He sat for a time looking towards the east, but he saw there nothing of interest. The next day he saw a bit farther, for he was now getting used to the new conditions. The third day he could see distinctly a line of hills far in the east, rising against the sky, and covered with a blue mist. He looked long at the strange sight. Then he saw far away towards the hill a thin column of smoke lifting heavenwards. He had never seen smoke before, but he had often heard of it from travelers in strange places. “That must be the country of which I have been told,” he said. “In that land dwell the people who alone possess Fire. We have searched for it for many ages and now I think we have found it.” Then he thought, “We now have the daylight, and what a fine thing it would be if we could also have Fire,” and he determined to set out to find it.On the following day he called his servants together and told them of his plans. He said, “We shall set out at once, for the distance is far.” And he asked three of his best servants, Robin, Mole and Flea, to go with him. Flea brought out his little wagon and they all tried to get into it, but it was much too small to hold them. Then they tried Mole’s carriage, but it was much too frail, and it had scarcely started to move when it broke down and they all fell out in a heap. Then they tried Robin’s carriage, but it was much too high and it toppled over under its heavy load and threw them all to the ground. Then Raven stole Sea-gull’s large strong carriage, for Sea-gull was asleep, and it did very well, and they started on their journey, taking turns pushing the carriage along with a pole over the flat plain.After a strange journey in queer places they reached the land of the people who owned Fire, guided along by the thin column of smoke. The people were not people of earth. Some say they were the Fish people, but no one knows. They sat around in a large circle with Fire in their midst, for it was autumn and the days and nights were chill. And Fire was in many places. Raven looked on for a while from afar thinking of the best plan to obtain Fire. Then he said to Robin, “You can move faster than any of us. You must steal Fire. You can fly in quickly, pick it up in your bill and take it back to us and the people will not see nor hear you.”So Robin picked out a spot where there were few people, and he darted in quickly and picked up fire in a twinkling and flew back unharmed towards his companions. But he had only taken a very little bit of it. When he got half-way back to his friends, Fire was so hot in his bill that it gave him a strange pain and he had to drop it on the ground. It fell to the earth with a crash and it was so small that it flickered faintly. Robin called to his companions to bring the carriage. Then he stood over Fire and fanned it with his wings to keep it alive. It was very hot, but he stood bravely to his task until his breast was badly scorched and he had to move away. His efforts to save Fire were of no avail, and before his companions reached him Fire had died, and only a black coal remained. And poor Robin’s breast was singed, and to this day the breasts of his descendants are a reddish-brown color because he was scorched while trying to steal Fire ages ago.Then Raven asked Flea to make the attempt to steal Fire. But Flea said, “I am too little. The heat would roast me to death; and, further, I might miscalculate the distance and hop into the flame.”Then Raven asked Mole to try, but Mole said, “Oh no, I am better fitted for other work. My fur would all be singed like Robin’s breast.” Raven took good care that he would not go himself, for he was a great coward.So he said, “There is a better and easier way. We will steal the baby of the Chief and hold him for ransom. Perhaps they will give us Fire in exchange for him,” and they all thought this was a very good idea.Raven asked, “Who will volunteer to steal the baby?” for he always made the others do all the work.Flea said, “I will go. In one jump I will be into the house, and in another jump I will be out again, for I can hop a great distance.” But the others laughed and said, “You could not carry the baby; you are too small.”The Mole said, “I will go. I can tunnel a passage very quietly under the house and right up to the baby’s cradle. I can then steal the baby and no one will hear me or see me.” So it was agreed that Mole should go. In a few minutes Mole made his tunnel, and he was soon back with the baby. Then they got into their carriage and hurried home with their prize.When the Chief of the Fire people discovered the loss of his child he was very angry. And in all the land there was great sorrow because the Chief’s heir, the hope of the tribe, had gone. And the child’s mother and her women wept so bitterly that their tears fell like rain on all the land. The Chief said he would give anything he possessed to find his child. But although his people searched far and near, they could not find the baby. After many days a wayfarer who had come far from the Great Water in the west brought them news that a strange child was living far to the westward in the village by the sea. He said, “He is not of their tribe. He looks like the children of your village,” and he advised them to go to see him for themselves. So the Chief sent his men to search for them guided by the wayfarer.When they reached Raven’s village, they were told that a strange baby was indeed there; the child was described to them, but he was kept out of sight, and Raven would not tell how he had happened to come there. And Raven said, “How do I know he is your Chief’s child? People tell strange lies these days. If you want him you can pay for him, for he has caused us much trouble and expense.”So the messengers went back and reported to the Chief what they had heard. From the description, the Chief knew that the child was his, so he gave the messengers very valuable presents of pearls and rich robes and sent them back again to ransom his boy. But Raven, when he saw the presents, said, “No, I do not want these gifts; they do not pay me for my trouble,” and he would not part with the baby. The messengers again reported to the Chief what had happened. Then the Chief gave them still richer gifts, the best he had in all his land, and sent them back. But again Raven said, “No, your gifts are valueless, compared with my trouble and expense. Say this to your Chief.”When the Chief heard this from his messengers he was sore perplexed, for he had offered the best he had, and he thought that he had reached the end of his resources. So he said, “Go back and ask the people to demand what they wish in exchange for my boy and they will receive it if it can be provided.” So the messengers went back to Raven and spoke as they had been commanded.And Raven said, “Only one thing can pay for the child, and that is Fire. Give me Fire and you can take the baby.” The messenger laughed and said, “Why did you not say so at first and save us all this trouble and anxiety? Fire is the most plentiful thing in our kingdom, and we hold it in no value.” So they returned happy to the Chief. And he sent back much Fire and received his child unharmed from Raven in exchange. And he sent Raven two small stones which the messengers taught Raven how to use.And they said, “If you ever lose Fire or if it dies for lack of food you can always call it back to life with these two little stones.” Then they showed him how to make Fire with the two little stones and withered grass, and birch-bark and dry pine, and Raven thought it was very easy. And he felt very proud because he had brought Fire and Light to the earth. He kept Fire for himself for a long time, and although the people clamoured loudly for it, he would not give any of it away. Soon, however, he decided to sell a quantity of it, for he now had the power of making it. So he said to himself, “This is a good way to get many wives,” and he announced that he would only sell some of his fire in return for a wife.And many families bought his fire and in exchange he received many wives. And to this day he still has many wives and he still moves about from place to place with a flock of them always around him. But the Indians when they arrived took Fire away from him. Thus Fire came to the Indians in the olden days. And when it has died, as it often does, they still sometimes use Raven’s flint stones to bring it back to life.
There once lived in a small town in China a man named Hok Lee. He was a steady industrious man, who not only worked hard at his trade, but did all his own house-work as well, for he had no wife to do it for him. ‘What an excellent industrious man is this Hok Lee!’ said his neighbors; ‘how hard he works: he never leaves his house to amuse himself or to take a holiday as others do!’But Hok Lee was by no means the virtuous person his neighbors thought him. True, he worked hard enough by day, but at night, when all respectable folk were fast asleep, he used to steal out and join a dangerous band of robbers, who broke into rich people’s houses and carried off all they could lay hands on.{Note: You can read an illustrated version of this story, plus other Chinese tales, in our collection Chinese Tales: An Enchanting Collection of 24 Chinese Folk Tales and Fairy Tales , now available for Amazon Kindle and paperback.}This state of things went on for some time, and, though a thief was caught now and then and punished, no suspicion ever fell on Hok Lee, he was such a very respectable, hard-working man.Hok Lee had already amassed a good store of money as his share of the proceeds of these robberies when it happened one morning on going to market that a neighbor said to him:‘Why, Hok Lee, what is the matter with your face? One side of it is all swelled up.’True enough, Hok Lee’s right cheek was twice the size of his left, and it soon began to feel very uncomfortable.‘I will bind up my face,’ said Hok Lee; ‘doubtless the warmth will cure the swelling.’ But no such thing. Next day it was worse, and day by day it grew bigger and bigger till it was nearly as large as his head and became very painful.Hok Lee was at his wits’ ends what to do. Not only was his cheek unsightly and painful, but his neighbors began to jeer and make fun of him, which hurt his feelings very much indeed.One day, as luck would have it, a traveling doctor came to the town. He sold not only all kinds of medicine, but also dealt in many strange charms against witches and evil spirits.Hok Lee determined to consult him, and asked him into his house.After the doctor had examined him carefully, he spoke thus: ‘This, O Hok Lee, is no ordinary swelled face. I strongly suspect you have been doing some wrong deed which has called down the anger of the spirits on you. None of my drugs will avail to cure you, but, if you are willing to pay me handsomely, I can tell you how you may be cured.’Then Hok Lee and the doctor began to bargain together, and it was a long time before they could come to terms. However, the doctor got the better of it in the end, for he was determined not to part with his secret under a certain price, and Hok Lee had no mind to carry his huge cheek about with him to the end of his days. So he was obliged to part with the greater portion of his ill-gotten gains.When the Doctor had pocketed the money, he told Hok Lee to go on the first night of the full moon to a certain wood and there to watch by a particular tree. After a time he would see the dwarfs and little sprites who live underground come out to dance. When they saw him they would be sure to make him dance too. ‘And mind you dance your very best,’ added the doctor. ‘If you dance well and please them they will grant you a petition and you can then beg to be cured; but if you dance badly they will most likely do you some mischief out of spite.’ With that he took leave and departed.Happily the first night of the full moon was near, and at the proper time Hok Lee set out for the wood. With a little trouble he found the tree the doctor had described, and, feeling nervous, he climbed up into it.He had hardly settled himself on a branch when he saw the little dwarfs assembling in the moonlight. They came from all sides, till at length there appeared to be hundreds of them. They seemed in high glee, and danced and skipped and capered about, whilst Hok Lee grew so eager watching them that he crept further and further along his branch till at length it gave a loud crack. All the dwarfs stood still, and Hok Lee felt as if his heart stood still also.Then one of the dwarfs called out, ‘Someone is up in that tree. Come down at once, whoever you are, or we must come and fetch you.’In great terror, Hok Lee proceeded to come down; but he was so nervous that he tripped near the ground and came rolling down in the most absurd manner. When he had picked himself up, he came forward with a low bow, and the dwarf who had first spoken and who appeared to be the leader, said, ‘Now, then, who art thou, and what brings thee here?’So Hok Lee told him the sad story of his swelled cheek, and how he had been advised to come to the forest and beg the dwarfs to cure him.‘It is well,’ replied the dwarf. ‘We will see about that. First, however, thou must dance before us. Should thy dancing please us, perhaps we may be able to do something; but shouldst thou dance badly, we shall assuredly punish thee, so now take warning and dance away.’With that, he and all the other dwarfs sat down in a large ring, leaving Hok Lee to dance alone in the middle. He felt half frightened to death, and besides was a good deal shaken by his fall from the tree and did not feel at all inclined to dance. But the dwarfs were not to be trifled with.‘Begin!’ cried their leader, and ‘Begin!’ shouted the rest in chorus.So in despair Hok Lee began. First he hopped on one foot and then on the other, but he was so stiff and so nervous that he made but a poor attempt, and after a time sank down on the ground and vowed he could dance no more.The dwarfs were very angry. They crowded round Hok Lee and abused him. ‘Thou to come here to be cured, indeed!’ they cried, ‘thou hast brought one big cheek with thee, but thou shalt take away two.’ And with that they ran off and disappeared, leaving Hok Lee to find his way home as best he might.He hobbled away, weary and depressed, and not a little anxious on account of the dwarfs’ threat.Nor were his fears unfounded, for when he rose next morning his left cheek was swelled up as big as his right, and he could hardly see out of his eyes. Hok Lee felt in despair, and his neighbours jeered at him more than ever. The doctor, too, had disappeared, so there was nothing for it but to try the dwarfs once more.He waited a month till the first night of the full moon came round again, and then he trudged back to the forest, and sat down under the tree from which he had fallen. He had not long to wait. Ere long the dwarfs came trooping out till all were assembled.‘I don’t feel quite easy,’ said one; ‘I feel as if some horrid human being were near us.’When Hok Lee heard this he came forward and bent down to the ground before the dwarfs, who came crowding round, and laughed heartily at his comical appearance with his two big cheeks.‘What dost thou want?’ they asked; and Hok Lee proceeded to tell them of his fresh misfortunes, and begged so hard to be allowed one more trial at dancing that the dwarfs consented, for there is nothing they love so much as being amused.Now, Hok Lee knew how much depended on his dancing well, so he plucked up a good spirit and began, first quite slowly, and faster by degrees, and he danced so well and gracefully, and made such new and wonderful steps, that the dwarfs were quite delighted with him.They clapped their tiny hands, and shouted, ‘Well done, Hok Lee, well done, go on, dance more, for we are pleased.’And Hok Lee danced on and on, till he really could dance no more, and was obliged to stop.Then the leader of the dwarfs said, ‘We are well pleased, Hok Lee, and as a recompense for thy dancing thy face shall be cured. Farewell.’With these words he and the other dwarfs vanished, and Hok Lee, putting his hands to his face, found to his great joy that his cheeks were reduced to their natural size. The way home seemed short and easy to him, and he went to bed happy, and resolved never to go out robbing again.Next day the whole town was full of the news of Hok’s sudden cure. His neighbours questioned him, but could get nothing from him, except the fact that he had discovered a wonderful cure for all kinds of diseases.After a time a rich neighbour, who had been ill for some years, came, and offered to give Hok Lee a large sum of money if he would tell him how he might get cured. Hok Lee consented on condition that he swore to keep the secret. He did so, and Hok Lee told him of the dwarfs and their dances.The neighbour went off, carefully obeyed Hok Lee’s directions, and was duly cured by the dwarfs. Then another and another came to Hok Lee to beg his secret, and from each he extracted a vow of secrecy and a large sum of money. This went on for some years, so that at length Hok Lee became a very wealthy man, and ended his days in peace and prosperity.
A rich man once invited a number of his friends and acquaintances to a banquet. His dog thought it would be a good opportunity to invite another Dog, a friend of his; so he went to him and said, “My master is giving a feast: there’ll be a fine spread, so come and dine with me to-night.” The Dog thus invited came, and when he saw the preparations being made in the kitchen he said to himself, “My word, I’m in luck: I’ll take care to eat enough to-night to last me two or three days.”At the same time he wagged his tail briskly, by way of showing his friend how delighted he was to have been asked. But just then the Cook caught sight of him, and, in his annoyance at seeing a strange Dog in the kitchen, caught him up by the hind legs and threw him out of the window. He had a nasty fall, and limped away as quickly as he could, howling dismally. Presently some other dogs met him, and said, “Well, what sort of a dinner did you get?”To which he replied, “I had a splendid time: the wine was so good, and I drank so much of it, that I really don’t remember how I got out of the house!”Be shy of favours bestowed at the expense of others.
Sam-chung was one of the most famous men in the history of the Buddhist Church, and had distinguished himself by the earnestness and self-denial with which he had entered on the pursuit of eternal life. His mind had been greatly exercised and distressed at the pains and sorrows which mankind were apparently doomed to endure. Even those, however, terrible as they were, he could have managed to tolerate had they not ended, in the case of every human being, in the crowning calamity which comes upon all at the close of life.Death was the great mystery which cast its shadow on every human being. It invaded every home. The sage whose virtues and teachings were the means of uplifting countless generations of men came under its great law. Men of infamous and abandoned character seemed often to outlive the more virtuous of their fellow-beings; but they too, when the gods saw fit, were hurried off without any ceremony. Even the little ones, who had never violated any of the laws of Heaven, came under this universal scourge; and many of them, who had only just commenced to live were driven out into the Land of Shadows by this mysterious force which dominates all human life.Accordingly Sam-Chung wanted to be freed from the power of death, so that its shadow should never darken his life in the years to come.After careful enquiry, and through friendly hints from men who, he had reason to believe, were fairies in disguise and had been sent by the Goddess of Mercy to help those who aspired after a higher life, he learned that it was possible by the constant pursuit of virtue to arrive at that stage of existence in which death would lose all its power to injure, and men should become immortal. This boon of eternal life could be won by every man or woman who was willing to pay the price for so precious a gift. It could be gained by great self-denial, by willingness to suffer, and especially by the exhibition of profound love and sympathy for those who were in sorrow of any kind. It appeared, indeed, that the one thing most imperatively demanded by the gods from those who aspired to enter their ranks was that they should be possessed of a divine compassion, and that their supreme object should be the succouring of distressed humanity. Without this compassion any personal sacrifice that might be made in the search for immortality would be absolutely useless.Sam-Chung was already conscious that he was a favourite of the gods, for they had given him two companions, both with supernatural powers, to enable him to contend against the cunning schemes of the evil spirits, who are ever planning how to thwart and destroy those whose hearts are set upon higher things.One day, accompanied by Chiau and Chu, the two attendants commissioned by the Goddess of Mercy to attend upon him, Sam-Chung started on his long journey for the famous Tien-ho river, to cross which is the ambition of every pilgrim on his way to the land of the Immortals. They endured many weeks of painful travelling over high mountains and through deep valleys which lay in constant shadow, and across sandy deserts where men perished of thirst or were struck down by the scorching heat of the sun, before they met any of the infernal foes that they expected to be lying in wait for them.Weary and footsore, they at last arrived one evening on the shores of the mighty Tien-ho, just as the sun was setting. The glory of the clouds in the west streamed on to the waters of the river, and made them sparkle with a beauty which seemed to our wearied travellers to transform them into something more than earthly. The river here was so wide that it looked like an inland sea. There was no sign of land on the distant horizon, nothing but one interminable vista of waters, stretching away as far as the eye could reach.One thing, however, greatly disappointed Sam-Chung and his companions, and that was the absence of boats. They had planned to engage one, and by travelling across the river during the night, they hoped to hurry on their way and at the same time to rest and refresh themselves after the fatigues they had been compelled to endure on their long land journey.It now became a very serious question with them where they were to spend the night. There was no sign of any human habitation round about. There was the sandy beach along which they were walking, and there was the wide expanse of the river, on which the evening mists were slowly gathering; but no appearance of life. Just as they were wondering what course they should pursue, the faint sound of some musical instruments came floating on the air and caught their ear. Hastening forward in the direction from which the music came, they ascended a piece of rising ground, from the top of which they were delighted to see a village nestling on the hillside, and a small temple standing on the very margin of the river.With hearts overjoyed at the prospect of gaining some place where they could lodge for the night, they hurried forward to the hamlet in front of them. As they drew nearer, the sounds of music became louder and more distinct. They concluded that some festival was being observed, or that some happy gathering amongst the people had thrown them all into a holiday mood. Entering the village, they made their way to a house which stood out prominently from the rest, and which was better built than any others they could see. Besides, it was the one from which the music issued, and around its doors was gathered a number of people who had evidently been attending some feast inside.As the three travellers came up to the door, a venerable-looking old man came out to meet them. Seeing that they were strangers, he courteously invited them to enter; and on Sam-Chung asking whether they could be entertained for the night, he assured them that there was ample room for them in the house, and that he gladly welcomed them to be his guests for as long as it was their pleasure to remain.“In the meanwhile you must come in,” he said, “and have some food, for you must be tired and hungry after travelling so far, and the tables are still covered with the good things which were prepared for the feast to-day.”After they had finished their meal, they began to talk to the old gentleman who was so kindly entertaining them. They were greatly pleased with his courtesy and with the hearty hospitality which he had pressed upon them. They noticed, however, that he was very absent-minded, and looked as if some unpleasant thought lay heavy on his heart.“May I ask,” said Sam-Chung, “what was the reason for the great gathering here to-day? There is no festival in the Chinese calendar falling on this date, so I thought I would take the liberty of enquiring what occasion you were really commemorating.”“We were not commemorating anything,” the old man replied with a grave face. “It was really a funeral service for two of my grand-children, who, though they are not yet dead, will certainly disappear out of this life before many hours have passed.”“But how can such a ceremony be performed over persons who are still alive?” asked Sam-Chung with a look of wonder in his face.“When I have explained the circumstances to you, you will then be no longer surprised at this unusual service,” replied the old man.“You must know,” he continued, “that this region is under the control of a Demon of a most cruel and bloodthirsty disposition. He is not like the ordinary spirits, whose images are enshrined in our temples, and whose main aim is to protect and guard their worshippers. This one has no love for mankind, but on the contrary the bitterest hatred, and his whole life seems to be occupied in scheming how he may inflict sorrow and disaster on them. His greatest cruelty is to insist that every year just about this time two children, one a boy and the other a girl, shall be conveyed to his temple by the river side to be devoured by him. Many attempts have been made to resist this barbarous demand, but they have only resulted in increased suffering to those who have dared to oppose him. The consequence is that the people submit to this cruel murder of their children, though many a heart is broken at the loss of those dearest to them.”“But is there any system by which the unfortunate people may get to know when this terrible sacrifice is going to be demanded from them?” asked Sam-Chung.“Oh yes,” replied the man. “The families are taken in rotation, and when each one’s turn comes round, their children are prepared for the sacrifice. Moreover, that there may be no mistake, the Demon himself appears in the home a few days before, and gives a threatening command to have the victims ready on such a date. Only the day before yesterday, this summons came to us to have our children ready by to-morrow morning at break of day. That is why we had a feast to-day, and performed the funeral rites for the dead, so that their spirits may not be held under the control of this merciless Damon, but may in time be permitted to issue from the Land of Shadows, and be born again under happier circumstances into this world, which they are leaving under such tragic circumstances.”“But what is the Demon like?” enquired Sam-Chung.“Oh, no one can ever tell what he is like,” said the man. “He has no bodily form that one can look upon. His presence is known by a strong blast of wind which fills the place with a peculiar odour, and with an influence so subtle that you feel yourself within the grip of a powerful force, and instinctively bow your head as though you were in the presence of a being who could destroy you in a moment were he so disposed.”“One more question and I have finished,” said Sam-Chung. “Where did this Demon come from, and how is it that he has acquired such an overmastering supremacy over the lives of men, that he seems able to defy even Heaven itself, and all the great hosts of kindly gods who are working for the salvation of mankind?”“This Demon,” the man replied, “was once an inhabitant of the Western Heaven, and under the direct control of the Goddess of Mercy. He must, however, have been filled with evil devices and fiendish instincts from the very beginning, for he seized the first opportunity to escape to earth, and to take up his residence in the grottoes and caverns that lie deep down beneath the waters of the Tien-ho. Other spirits almost as bad as himself have also taken up their abode there, and they combine their forces to bring calamity and disaster upon the people of this region.”Sam-Chung, whose heart was filled with the tenderest feelings of compassion for all living things, so much so that his name was a familiar one even amongst the Immortals in the far-off Western Heaven, felt himself stirred by a mighty indignation when he thought of how innocent childhood had been sacrificed to minister to the unnatural passion of this depraved Demon. Chiau and Chu were as profoundly indignant as he, and a serious consultation ensued as to the best methods to be adopted to save the little ones who were doomed to destruction on the morrow, and at the same time to break the monster’s rule so that it should cease for ever.Chiau, who was the more daring of the two whom I the goddess had deputed to protect Sam-Chung, at length cried out with flashing eyes, “I will personate the boy, Chu shall act the girl, and together we will fight the Demon and overthrow and kill him, and so deliver the people from his dreadful tyranny.”Turning to the old man, he said, “Bring the children here so that we may see them, and make our plans so perfect that the Demon with all his cunning will not be able to detect or frustrate them.”In a few moments the little ones were led in by their grandfather. The boy was seven and the girl was one year older. They were both of them nervous and shy, and clung timidly to the old man as if for protection.They were very interesting-looking children. The boy was a proud, brave-spirited little fellow, as one could see by the poise of his head as he gazed at the strangers. If anything could be predicted from his looks, he would one day turn out to be a man of great power, for he had in his youthful face all the signs which promise a life out of the common. The girl was a shy little thing, with her hair done up in a childlike fashion that well became her. She was a dainty little mortal. Her eyes were almond-shaped, and with the coyness of her sex she kept shooting out glances from the corners of them at the three men who were looking at her. Her cheeks were pale, with just a suspicion of colour painted into them by the deft hand of nature; whilst her lips had been touched with the faintest dash of carmine, evidently just a moment ago, before she left her mother’s side.“Now, my boy,” said Chiau to the little fellow, “keep your eyes fixed on me, and never take them from me for a moment; and you, little sister,” addressing the girl, “do the same to the man next to me, and you will see something that will make you both laugh.”The eyes of them both were at once riveted on the two men, and a look of amazement slowly crept into their faces. And no wonder, for as they gazed they saw the two men rapidly changing, and becoming smaller and smaller, until they were the exact size and image of themselves. In their features and dress, and in every minute detail they were the precise pattern of the children, who with staring eyes were held spellbound by the magic change which had taken place in front of them.“Now,” said Chiau to the old gentleman, “the transformation is complete. Take the children away and hide them in the remotest and most inaccessible room that you have in your house. Let them be seen by no chattering woman or servant who might divulge our secret, so that in some way or other it might reach the ears of the Demon, and put him on his guard. Remember that from this moment these little ones are not supposed to exist, but that we are your grand-children who are to be taken to the temple to-morrow morning at break of day.”Just as the eastern sky showed the first touch of colour, two sedan-chairs were brought up to the door to carry the two victims away to be devoured by the Demon. A few frightened-looking neighbours peered through the gloom to catch a last glimpse of the children, but not one of them had the least suspicion that the boy and girl were really fairies who were about to wage a deadly battle with the Demon in order to deliver them from the curse under which they lived.No sooner had the children been put into the temple, where a dim rush-light did but serve to disclose the gloom, and the doors had been closed with a bang, than the chair-bearers rushed away in fear for their very lives.An instant afterwards a hideous, gigantic form emerged from an inner room and advanced towards the children. The Demon was surprised, however, to find that on this occasion the little victims did not exhibit any signs of alarm, as had always been the case hitherto, but seemed to be calmly awaiting his approach. There was no symptom of fear about them, and not a cry of terror broke from their lips; but with a fearless and composed mien they gazed upon him as he advanced.Hesitating for a moment, as if to measure the foe which he began to fear might lie concealed beneath the figures of the boy and girl before him, the Demon’s great fiery eyes began to flash with deadly passion as he saw the two little ones gradually expand in size, until they were transformed into beings as powerful and as mighty as himself. He knew at once that he had been outwitted, and that he must now battle for his very life; so, drawing a sword which had always stood him in good stead, he rushed upon the two who faced him so calmly and with such apparent confidence in themselves.Chiau and Chu were all ready for the fray, and with weapons firmly gripped and with hearts made strong by the consciousness of the justice of their cause, they awaited the onslaught of the Demon.And what a battle it was that then ensued in the dim and shadowy temple! It was a conflict of great and deadly significance, waged on one side for the deliverance of helpless childhood, and on the other for the basest schemes that the spirits of evil could devise. It was a battle royal, in which no quarter was either asked or given. The clash of weapons, and sounds unfamiliar to the human ear, and groans and cries which seemed to come from a lost soul, filled the temple with their hideous uproar.At last the Demon, who seemed to have been grievously wounded, though by his magic art he had caused his wounds to be instantly healed, began to see that the day was going against him. One more mighty lunge with his broadsword, and one more furious onset, and his craven heart failed him. With a cry of despair he fled from the temple, and plunged headlong into the river flowing by its walls.Great were the rejoicings when Chiau and Chu returned to report to Sam-Chung the glorious victory they had gained over the Demon. Laughter and rejoicing were heard in every home, and men and women assembled in front of their doors and at the corners of the narrow alley-ways to congratulate each other on the great deliverance which that day had come to them and to their children. The dread of the Demon had already vanished, and a feeling of freedom so inspired the men of the village that as if by a common impulse, they rushed impetuously down to where the temple stood, and in the course of a few hours every vestige of it had disappeared beneath the waters into which the Demon had plunged.After his great defeat the baffled spirit made his way to the grotto beneath the waters, where he and the other demons had taken up their abode. A general council was called to devise plans to wipe out the disgrace which had been sustained, and to regain the power that had slipped from the Demon’s grasp. They wished also to visit Sam-Chung with condign punishment which would render him helpless for the future.“We must capture him,” said one wicked-looking imp, who always acted as counsellor to the rest. “I have been told that to devour some of his flesh would ensure the prolongation of life for more than a thousand years.”The suggestion to seize Sam-Chung was unanimously accepted as a very inspiration of genius, and the precise measures which were to be adopted in order to capture him were agreed to after a long discussion.On the very next morning, a most violent snowstorm set in, so that the face of the river and the hills all round about, and the very heavens themselves were lost in the blinding snow-drifts that flew before the gale. Gradually the cold became so intense that the Ice King laid his grip upon the waters of the Tien-ho, and turned the flowing stream into a crystal highway, along which men might travel with ease and safety. Such a sight had never been seen before by any of the people who lived upon its banks, and many were the speculations as to what such a phenomenon might mean to the welfare of the people of the region. It never occurred to any one that this great snow-storm which had turned into ice a river that had never been known to freeze before, was all the work of demons determined on the destruction of Sam-Chung.Next day the storm had passed, but the river was one mass of ice which gleamed and glistened in the morning rays. Much to the astonishment of Sam-Chung and his two companions, they caught sight of a number of people, who appeared to be merchants, moving about on the bank of the river, together with several mules laden with merchandise. The whole party seemed intent on their preparations for crossing the river, which they were observed to test in various places to make sure that it was strong enough to bear their weight. This they seemed satisfied about, for in a short time the men and animals set forward on their journey across the ice.Sam-Chung immediately insisted upon following their example, though the plan was vigorously opposed by the villagers, who predicted all kinds of dangers if he entered on such an uncertain and hazardous enterprise. Being exceedingly anxious to proceed on his journey, however, and seeing no prospect of doing so if he did not take advantage of the present remarkable condition of the river, he hastened to follow in the footsteps of the merchants, who by this time had already advanced some distance on the ice.He would have been less anxious to enter on this perilous course, had he known that the innocent-looking traders who preceded him were every one of them demons who had changed themselves into the semblance of men in order to lure him to his destruction.Sam-Chung and his companions had not proceeded more than five or six miles, when ominous symptoms of coming disaster began to manifest themselves. The extreme cold in the air suddenly ceased, and a warm south wind began to blow. The surface of the ice lost its hardness. Streamlets of water trickled here and there, forming great pools which made walking exceedingly difficult.Chiau, whose mind was a very acute and intelligent one, became terrified at these alarming symptoms of danger, especially as the ice began to crack, and loud and prolonged reports reached them from every direction. Another most suspicious thing was the sudden disappearance of the company of merchants, whom they had all along kept well in sight. There was something wrong, he was fully convinced, and so with all his wits about him, he kept himself alert for any contingency. It was well that he did this, for before they had proceeded another mile, the ice began to grow thinner, and before they could retreat there was a sudden crash and all three were precipitated into the water.Hardly had Chiau’s feet touched the river, than with a superhuman effort he made a spring into the air, and was soon flying with incredible speed in the direction of the Western Heaven, to invoke the aid of the Goddess of Mercy to deliver Sam-Chung from the hands of an enemy who would show him no quarter.In the meanwhile Sam-Chung and Chu were borne swiftly by the demons, who were eagerly awaiting their immersion in the water, to the great cave that lay deep down at the bottom of the mighty river. Chu, being an immortal and a special messenger of the Goddess, defied all the arts of the evil spirits to injure him, so that all they could do was to imprison him in one of the inner grottoes and station a guard over him to prevent his escape. Sam-Chung, however, was doomed to death, and the Demon, in revenge for the disgrace he had brought upon him, and in the hope of prolonging his own life by a thousand years, decided that on the morrow he would feast upon his flesh. But he made his plans without taking into consideration the fact that Sam-Chung was an especial favourite with the Goddess.During the night a tremendous commotion occurred. The waters of the river fled in every direction as before the blast of a hurricane, and the caverns where the demons were assembled were illuminated with a light so brilliant that their eyes became dazzled, and for a time were blinded by the sudden blaze that flashed from every corner. Screaming with terror, they fled in all directions. Only one remained, and that was the fierce spirit who had wrought such sorrow amongst the people of the land near by. He too would have disappeared with the rest, had not some supernatural power chained him to the spot where he stood.Soon the noble figure of the Goddess of Mercy appeared, accompanied by a splendid train of Fairies who hovered round her to do her bidding. Her first act was to release Sam-Chung, who lay bound ready for his death, which but for her interposition would have taken place within a few hours. He and his two companions were entrusted to the care of a chosen number of her followers, and conveyed with all speed across the river.The Goddess then gave a command to some who stood near her person, and in a moment, as if by a flash of lightning, the cowering, terrified Demon had vanished, carried away to be confined in one of the dungeons where persistent haters of mankind are kept imprisoned, until their hearts are changed by some noble sentiment of compassion and the Goddess sees that they are once more fit for liberty.And then the lights died out, and the sounds of fairy voices ceased. The waters of the river, which had been under a divine spell, returned to their course, and the Goddess with her magnificent train of beneficent spirits departed to her kingdom in the far-off Western Heaven.
In the High and Far-Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn’t pick up things with it. But there was one Elephant—a new Elephant—an Elephant’s Child—who was full of ‘satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his ‘satiable curtiosities. He asked his tall aunt, the Ostrich, why her tail-feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the Ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard claw. He asked his tall uncle, the Giraffe, what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle, the Giraffe, spanked him with his hard, hard hoof. And still he was full of ‘satiable curtiosity! He asked his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, why her eyes were red, and his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, spanked him with her broad, broad hoof; and he asked his hairy uncle, the Baboon, why melons tasted just so, and his hairy uncle, the Baboon, spanked him with his hairy, hairy paw. And still he was full of ‘satiable curtiosity! He asked questions about everything that he saw, or heard, or felt, or smelt, or touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him. And still he was full of ‘satiable curtiosity!One fine morning in the middle of the Precession of the Equinoxes this ‘satiable Elephant’s Child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked, ‘What does the Crocodile have for dinner?’ Then everybody said, ‘Hush!’ in a loud and dretful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time.By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush, and he said, ‘My father has spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my ‘satiable curtiosity; and still I want to know what the Crocodile has for dinner!’Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, ‘Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out.’That very next morning, when there was nothing left of the Equinoxes, because the Precession had preceded according to precedent, this ‘satiable Elephant’s Child took a hundred pounds of bananas (the little short red kind), and a hundred pounds of sugar-cane (the long purple kind), and seventeen melons (the greeny-crackly kind), and said to all his dear families, ‘Goodbye. I am going to the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the Crocodile has for dinner.’ And they all spanked him once more for luck, though he asked them most politely to stop.Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up.He went from Graham’s Town to Kimberley, and from Kimberley to Khama’s Country, and from Khama’s Country he went east by north, eating melons all the time, till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, precisely as Kolokolo Bird had said.Now you must know and understand, O Best Beloved, that till that very week, and day, and hour, and minute, this ‘satiable Elephant’s Child had never seen a Crocodile, and did not know what one was like. It was all his ‘satiable curtiosity.The first thing that he found was a Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake curled round a rock.‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child most politely, ‘but have you seen such a thing as a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?’‘Have I seen a Crocodile?’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, in a voice of dretful scorn. ‘What will you ask me next?’‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child, ‘but could you kindly tell me what he has for dinner?’Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake uncoiled himself very quickly from the rock, and spanked the Elephant’s Child with his scalesome, flailsome tail.‘That is odd,’ said the Elephant’s Child, ‘because my father and my mother, and my uncle and my aunt, not to mention my other aunt, the Hippopotamus, and my other uncle, the Baboon, have all spanked me for my ‘satiable curtiosity—and I suppose this is the same thing.So he said good-bye very politely to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, and helped to coil him up on the rock again, and went on, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up, till he trod on what he thought was a log of wood at the very edge of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees.But it was really the Crocodile, O Best Beloved, and the Crocodile winked one eye—like this!‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child most politely, ‘but do you happen to have seen a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?’Then the Crocodile winked the other eye, and lifted half his tail out of the mud; and the Elephant’s Child stepped back most politely, because he did not wish to be spanked again.‘Come hither, Little One,’ said the Crocodile. ‘Why do you ask such things?’‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child most politely, ‘but my father has spanked me, my mother has spanked me, not to mention my tall aunt, the Ostrich, and my tall uncle, the Giraffe, who can kick ever so hard, as well as my broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, and my hairy uncle, the Baboon, and including the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, with the scalesome, flailsome tail, just up the bank, who spanks harder than any of them; and so, if it’s quite all the same to you, I don’t want to be spanked any more.’‘Come hither, Little One,’ said the Crocodile, ‘for I am the Crocodile,’ and he wept crocodile-tears to show it was quite true.Then the Elephant’s Child grew all breathless, and panted, and kneeled down on the bank and said, ‘You are the very person I have been looking for all these long days. Will you please tell me what you have for dinner?’‘Come hither, Little One,’ said the Crocodile, ‘and I’ll whisper.’Then the Elephant’s Child put his head down close to the Crocodile’s musky, tusky mouth, and the Crocodile caught him by his little nose, which up to that very week, day, hour, and minute, had been no bigger than a boot, though much more useful.‘I think, said the Crocodile—and he said it between his teeth, like this—‘I think to-day I will begin with Elephant’s Child!’At this, O Best Beloved, the Elephant’s Child was much annoyed, and he said, speaking through his nose, like this, ‘Led go! You are hurtig be!’Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake scuffled down from the bank and said, ‘My young friend, if you do not now, immediately and instantly, pull as hard as ever you can, it is my opinion that your acquaintance in the large-pattern leather ulster’ (and by this he meant the Crocodile) ‘will jerk you into yonder limpid stream before you can say Jack Robinson.’This is the way Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snakes always talk.Then the Elephant’s Child sat back on his little haunches, and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose began to stretch. And the Crocodile floundered into the water, making it all creamy with great sweeps of his tail, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled.And the Elephant’s Child’s nose kept on stretching; and the Elephant’s Child spread all his little four legs and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose kept on stretching; and the Crocodile threshed his tail like an oar, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and at each pull the Elephant’s Child’s nose grew longer and longer—and it hurt him hijjus!Then the Elephant’s Child felt his legs slipping, and he said through his nose, which was now nearly five feet long, ‘This is too butch for be!’Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake came down from the bank, and knotted himself in a double-clove-hitch round the Elephant’s Child’s hind legs, and said, ‘Rash and inexperienced traveller, we will now seriously devote ourselves to a little high tension, because if we do not, it is my impression that yonder self-propelling man-of-war with the armour-plated upper deck’ (and by this, O Best Beloved, he meant the Crocodile), ‘will permanently vitiate your future career.That is the way all Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snakes always talk.So he pulled, and the Elephant’s Child pulled, and the Crocodile pulled; but the Elephant’s Child and the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake pulled hardest; and at last the Crocodile let go of the Elephant’s Child’s nose with a plop that you could hear all up and down the Limpopo.Then the Elephant’s Child sat down most hard and sudden; but first he was careful to say ‘Thank you’ to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake; and next he was kind to his poor pulled nose, and wrapped it all up in cool banana leaves, and hung it in the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo to cool.‘What are you doing that for?’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child, ‘but my nose is badly out of shape, and I am waiting for it to shrink.‘Then you will have to wait a long time, said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. ‘Some people do not know what is good for them.’The Elephant’s Child sat there for three days waiting for his nose to shrink. But it never grew any shorter, and, besides, it made him squint. For, O Best Beloved, you will see and understand that the Crocodile had pulled it out into a really truly trunk same as all Elephants have to-day.At the end of the third day a fly came and stung him on the shoulder, and before he knew what he was doing he lifted up his trunk and hit that fly dead with the end of it.‘’Vantage number one!’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. ‘You couldn’t have done that with a mere-smear nose. Try and eat a little now.’Before he thought what he was doing the Elephant’s Child put out his trunk and plucked a large bundle of grass, dusted it clean against his fore-legs, and stuffed it into his own mouth.‘Vantage number two!’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. ‘You couldn’t have done that with a mear-smear nose. Don’t you think the sun is very hot here?’‘It is,’ said the Elephant’s Child, and before he thought what he was doing he schlooped up a schloop of mud from the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo, and slapped it on his head, where it made a cool schloopy-sloshy mud-cap all trickly behind his ears.‘Vantage number three!’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. ‘You couldn’t have done that with a mere-smear nose. Now how do you feel about being spanked again?’‘’Scuse me,’ said the Elephant’s Child, ‘but I should not like it at all.’‘How would you like to spank somebody?’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.‘I should like it very much indeed,’ said the Elephant’s Child.‘Well,’ said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, ‘you will find that new nose of yours very useful to spank people with.’‘Thank you,’ said the Elephant’s Child, ‘I’ll remember that; and now I think I’ll go home to all my dear families and try.’So the Elephant’s Child went home across Africa frisking and whisking his trunk. When he wanted fruit to eat he pulled fruit down from a tree, instead of waiting for it to fall as he used to do. When he wanted grass he plucked grass up from the ground, instead of going on his knees as he used to do. When the flies bit him he broke off the branch of a tree and used it as fly-whisk; and he made himself a new, cool, slushy-squshy mud-cap whenever the sun was hot. When he felt lonely walking through Africa he sang to himself down his trunk, and the noise was louder than several brass bands.He went especially out of his way to find a broad Hippopotamus (she was no relation of his), and he spanked her very hard, to make sure that the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake had spoken the truth about his new trunk. The rest of the time he picked up the melon rinds that he had dropped on his way to the Limpopo—for he was a Tidy Pachyderm.One dark evening he came back to all his dear families, and he coiled up his trunk and said, ‘How do you do?’ They were very glad to see him, and immediately said, ‘Come here and be spanked for your ‘satiable curtiosity.’‘Pooh,’ said the Elephant’s Child. ‘I don’t think you peoples know anything about spanking; but I do, and I’ll show you.’ Then he uncurled his trunk and knocked two of his dear brothers head over heels.‘O Bananas!’ said they, ‘where did you learn that trick, and what have you done to your nose?’‘I got a new one from the Crocodile on the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River,’ said the Elephant’s Child. ‘I asked him what he had for dinner, and he gave me this to keep.’‘It looks very ugly,’ said his hairy uncle, the Baboon.‘It does,’ said the Elephant’s Child. ‘But it’s very useful,’ and he picked up his hairy uncle, the Baboon, by one hairy leg, and hove him into a hornet’s nest.Then that bad Elephant’s Child spanked all his dear families for a long time, till they were very warm and greatly astonished. He pulled out his tall Ostrich aunt’s tail-feathers; and he caught his tall uncle, the Giraffe, by the hind-leg, and dragged him through a thorn-bush; and he shouted at his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, and blew bubbles into her ear when she was sleeping in the water after meals; but he never let any one touch Kolokolo Bird.At last things grew so exciting that his dear families went off one by one in a hurry to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to borrow new noses from the Crocodile. When they came back nobody spanked anybody any more; and ever since that day, O Best Beloved, all the Elephants you will ever see, besides all those that you won’t, have trunks precisely like the trunk of the ‘satiable Elephant’s Child.I Keep six honest serving-men:(They taught me all I knew)Their names are What and Where and WhenAnd How and Why and Who.I send them over land and sea,I send them east and west;But after they have worked for me,I give them all a rest.I let them rest from nine till five.For I am busy then,As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,For they are hungry men:But different folk have different views:I know a person small—She keeps ten million serving-men,Who get no rest at all!She sends ‘em abroad on her own affairs,From the second she opens her eyes—One million Hows, two million Wheres,And seven million Whys!
A great army of men came into the Northland. They overcame all the warriors of that land, killed the king, and took possession of the kingdom.The queen fled away through the mountains with her little son, to the home of one of her old vassals.But soon the soldiers came to find and kill the little prince. Again the queen fled, but her enemies always found her.At last she was afraid to stay in any part of her own country. So she sailed away to another land.On the way the ship was attacked by pirates. The little prince was taken and sold as a slave.One day the king of the country in which he was a slave saw him and bought him. He was given to the queen for a page.The little Olaf was brave and handsome. The king had no son, so he made the little slave his son.Olaf was taught to be courteous and truthful. He was trained to fight with sword and spear.He could hunt, and skate, and swim, and walk on snow-shoes.When he was at sea, he could run outside the ship on the oars. He could stand on the ship rail when the sea was the roughest.He could use his sword with either hand and throw two spears at once.When he was grown to be a man, the king gave him ships and an army so that he might go and get back his kingdom.At that same time another king was going with a great army to conquer Olaf’s kingdom.Olaf went into the church to pray for a blessing on his journey. While he was praying, one of his warriors hurried in to tell him that the other king had set sail.But Olaf would not go until he had finished his prayer. Then he set sail. He could see the ships far ahead.Soon they came in sight of Olaf’s kingdom. Then Olaf prayed the sea to roll over the land and make a shorter way for him.The sea swept over the land and Olaf sailed on. As the water covered the ground, the hill trolls ran out and cursed him.Olaf said, “Be turned into stones till I return.” The trolls changed to pebbles and rolled down the hillsides into the valleys, where they are found even yet.Olaf reached his kingdom first. The people received him gladly. They made him king and drove out the army that had come against the kingdom.Then Olaf called his vassals to a great feast. They feasted all day long. Suddenly the door swung open. On the doorstep stood a tall man, wrapped in a blue cloak.King Olaf called the stranger to sit beside him. All night long he told them wonderful tales of the gods and of heroes.The night was almost over before they went to bed.In the morning the guest was gone. The doors were locked. The guard had seen no one.Then the king and his men whispered, “It was Odin himself.”Away to the north lived a warlock called Rand the Strong. He worshiped the storm fiends, who often made storms to wreck ships for him.When Olaf came into his kingdom, he determined to punish Rand. He sailed away to the north. When it was dark Olaf’s ship crept softly up the bay.Olaf and his men rushed in and overcame Rand the Strong before he was awake.Then they sailed southward taking his dragon-ship with them. Never had such a ship been seen in the kingdom.But Olaf wanted a finer ship. He called Thorberg Skafting, the master-builder, and told him to build a dragon-ship twice as wide and twice as long.Thorberg Shafting whistled and sang for joy. His men too laughed and sang when they heard him.All day long they hammered and hewed. The noise sounded like music to Thorberg Skafting.At last the ship was finished, and Olaf and his warriors came to see it.When they came into the shipyard the workmen stood staring. Some one had cut the sides of the ship from end to end.The king’s face grew red with anger and he vowed to kill the man who did the deed.Thorberg Skafting smiled and said, “I am the man.” Then he smoothed the sides of the ship until Olaf said she was more beautiful than before.The ship was bright with gilding, and the figurehead was a golden dragon.Olaf named her the Long Serpent. He sailed the sea in the Long Serpent many years. No king was strong enough to overcome him in battle.But at last three kings came against him at once. Olaf sailed with his fleet to meet them.When he came in sight he ordered his sails to be struck so that his ships could not sail away. He lashed his ships three together and let them drift toward the enemy.Then he ordered his warhorns to be played and the music sounded far out across the water.King Olaf stood on the front of the ship. His shield and his armor were of gold and he carried his bow and arrows in his hand.A sailor said, “The Long Serpent lies too far ahead. We will have too hard a fight.”Olaf drew his bow to shoot him, but the sailor said. “Shoot at the enemy. You need me.”When the ships of the enemy struck against Olaf’s ships, Eric, one of the three kings, cut the ropes that bound Olaf’s ships together and they drifted apart.Einar, one of Olaf’s warriors, aimed all his arrows at King Eric. But Eric held his shield in front of him.The arrows flew faster and faster. Eric called one of his men to shoot the brave bow-man.An arrow broke Einar’s bow in his hands, but he only laughed.Olaf said, “Take my bow and shoot Eric.”Einar drew the arrow over its head the first time he bent the bow.Then he threw the bow down and sprang on board Eric’s ship with his sword in his hand.All day long the battle raged until the decks were red, and Olaf’s ships were only wrecks. Then Eric’s men boarded them.Olaf stood on the deck with the spears flying about him.As Eric’s men rushed across the deck, Olaf’s captain sprang to his side and held his shield in front of the king.For a moment the captain whispered in the king’s ear.Then the two men sprang over the side of the ship. Eric’s men only saw the flash of their golden hair. Then they were gone, and there was nothing left but two shields floating on the water.The people thought that Olaf stripped off his armor as he swam beneath the water, and that some time he would come again.But he never came back, and the people called him St. Olaf.
There were formerly a king and a queen, who were so sorry that they had no children; so sorry that it cannot be expressed. They went to all the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried, and all to no purpose.At last, however, the Queen had a daughter. There was a very fine christening; and the Princess had for her god-mothers all the fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (they found seven), that every one of them might give her a gift, as was the custom of fairies in those days. By this means the Princess had all the perfections imaginable.After the ceremonies of the christening were over, all the company returned to the King’s palace, where was prepared a great feast for the fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, knife, and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were all sitting down at table they saw come into the hall a very old fairy, whom they had not invited, because it was above fifty years since she had been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or enchanted.The King ordered her a cover, but could not furnish her with a case of gold as the others, because they had only seven made for the seven fairies. The old Fairy fancied she was slighted, and muttered some threats between her teeth. One of the young fairies who sat by her overheard how she grumbled; and, judging that she might give the little Princess some unlucky gift, went, as soon as they rose from table, and hid herself behind the hangings, that she might speak last, and repair, as much as she could, the evil which the old Fairy might intend.In the meanwhile all the fairies began to give their gifts to the Princess. The youngest gave her for gift that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the wit of an angel; the third, that she should have a wonderful grace in everything she did; the fourth, that she should dance perfectly well; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play all kinds of music to the utmost perfection.The old Fairy’s turn coming next, with a head shaking more with spite than age, she said that the Princess should have her hand pierced with a spindle and die of the wound. This terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and everybody fell a-crying.At this very instant the young Fairy came out from behind the hangings, and spake these words aloud:“Assure yourselves, O King and Queen, that your daughter shall not die of this disaster. It is true, I have no power to undo entirely what my elder has done. The Princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle; but, instead of dying, she shall only fall into a profound sleep, which shall last a hundred years, at the expiration of which a king’s son shall come and awake her.”The King, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old Fairy, caused immediately proclamation to be made, whereby everybody was forbidden, on pain of death, to spin with a distaff and spindle, or to have so much as any spindle in their houses. About fifteen or sixteen years after, the King and Queen being gone to one of their houses of pleasure, the young Princess happened one day to divert herself in running up and down the palace; when going up from one apartment to another, she came into a little room on the top of the tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her spindle. This good woman had never heard of the King’s proclamation against spindles.“What are you doing there, goody?” said the Princess.“I am spinning, my pretty child,” said the old woman, who did not know who she was.“Ha!” said the Princess, “this is very pretty; how do you do it? Give it to me, that I may see if I can do so.”She had no sooner taken it into her hand than, whether being very hasty at it, somewhat unhandy, or that the decree of the Fairy had so ordained it, it ran into her hand, and she fell down in a swoon.The good old woman, not knowing very well what to do in this affair, cried out for help. People came in from every quarter in great numbers; they threw water upon the Princess’s face, unlaced her, struck her on the palms of her hands, and rubbed her temples with Hungary-water; but nothing would bring her to herself.And now the King, who came up at the noise, bethought himself of the prediction of the fairies, and, judging very well that this must necessarily come to pass, since the fairies had said it, caused the Princess to be carried into the finest apartment in his palace, and to be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver.One would have taken her for a little angel, she was so very beautiful; for her swooning away had not diminished one bit of her complexion; her cheeks were carnation, and her lips were coral; indeed, her eyes were shut, but she was heard to breathe softly, which satisfied those about her that she was not dead. The King commanded that they should not disturb her, but let her sleep quietly till her hour of awaking was come.The good Fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of Matakin, twelve thousand leagues off, when this accident befell the Princess; but she was instantly informed of it by a little dwarf, who had boots of seven leagues, that is, boots with which he could tread over seven leagues of ground in one stride. The Fairy came away immediately, and she arrived, about an hour after, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons.The King handed her out of the chariot, and she approved everything he had done, but as she had very great foresight, she thought when the Princess should awake she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in this old palace; and this was what she did: she touched with her wand everything in the palace (except the King and Queen)—governesses, maids of honor, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, undercooks, scullions, guards, with their beefeaters, pages, footmen; she likewise touched all the horses which were in the stables, pads as well as others, the great dogs in the outward court and pretty little Mopsey too, the Princess’s little spaniel, which lay by her on the bed.Immediately upon her touching them they all fell asleep, that they might not awake before their mistress and that they might be ready to wait upon her when she wanted them. The very spits at the fire, as full as they could hold of partridges and pheasants, did fall asleep also. All this was done in a moment. Fairies are not long in doing their business.And now the King and the Queen, having kissed their dear child without waking her, went out of the palace and put forth a proclamation that nobody should dare to come near it.This, however, was not necessary, for in a quarter of an hour’s time there grew up all round about the park such a vast number of trees, great and small, bushes and brambles, twining one within another, that neither man nor beast could pass through; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers of the palace; and that, too, not unless it was a good way off. Nobody; doubted but the Fairy gave herein a very extraordinary sample of her art, that the Princess, while she continued sleeping, might have nothing to fear from any curious people.When a hundred years were gone and passed the son of the King then reigning, and who was of another family from that of the sleeping Princess, being gone a-hunting on that side of the country, asked:What those towers were which he saw in the middle of a great thick wood?Everyone answered according as they had heard. Some said:That it was a ruinous old castle, haunted by spirits.Others, That all the sorcerers and witches of the country kept there their sabbath or night’s meeting.The common opinion was: That an ogre lived there, and that he carried thither all the little children he could catch, that he might eat them up at his leisure, without anybody being able to follow him, as having himself only the power to pass through the wood.The Prince was at a stand, not knowing what to believe, when a very good countryman spake to him thus:“May it please your royal highness, it is now about fifty years since I heard from my father, who heard my grandfather say, that there was then in this castle a princess, the most beautiful was ever seen; that she must sleep there a hundred years, and should be waked by a king’s son, for whom she was reserved.”The young Prince was all on fire at these words, believing, without weighing the matter, that he could put an end to this rare adventure; and, pushed on by love and honor, resolved that moment to look into it.Scarce had he advanced toward the wood when all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles gave way of themselves to let him pass through; he walked up to the castle which he saw at the end of a large avenue which he went into; and what a little surprised him was that he saw none of his people could follow him, because the trees closed again as soon as he had passed through them. However, he did not cease from continuing his way; a young and amorous prince is always valiant.He came into a spacious outward court, where everything he saw might have frozen the most fearless person with horror. There reigned all over a most frightful silence; the image of death everywhere showed itself, and there was nothing to be seen but stretched-out bodies of men and animals, all seeming to be dead. He, however, very well knew, by the ruby faces and pimpled noses of the beefeaters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, wherein still remained some drops of wine, showed plainly that they fell asleep in their cups.He then crossed a court paved with marble, went up the stairs and came into the guard chamber, where guards were standing in their ranks, with their muskets upon their shoulders, and snoring as loud as they could. After that he went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, all asleep, some standing, others sitting. At last he came into a chamber all gilded with gold, where he saw upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the finest sight was ever beheld—a princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose bright and, in a manner, resplendent beauty, had somewhat in it divine. He approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down before her upon his knees.And now, as the enchantment was at an end, the Princess awaked, and looking on him with eyes more tender than the first view might seem to admit of:“Is it you, my Prince?” said she to him. “You have waited a long while.”The Prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to show his joy and gratitude; he assured her that he loved her better than he did himself; their discourse was not well connected, they did weep more than talk—little eloquence, a great deal of love. He was more at a loss than she, and we need not wonder at it; she had time to think on what to say to him; for it is very probable (though history mentions nothing of it) that the good Fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her very agreeable dreams. In short, they talked four hours together, and yet they said not half what they had to say.In the meanwhile all the palace awaked; everyone thought upon their particular business, and as all of them were not in love they were ready to die for hunger. The chief lady of honor, being as sharp set as other folks, grew very impatient, and told the Princess aloud that supper was served up. The Prince helped the Princess to rise; she was entirely dressed, and very magnificently, but his royal highness took care not to tell her that she was dressed like his great-grandmother, and had a point band peeping over a high collar; she looked not a bit less charming and beautiful for all that.They went into the great hall of looking-glasses, where they supped, and were served by the Princess’s officers, the violins and hautboys played old tunes, but very excellent, though it was now above a hundred years since they had played; and after supper, without losing any time, the lord almoner married them in the chapel of the castle, and the chief lady of honor drew the curtains. They had but very little sleep—the Princess had no occasion; and the Prince left her next morning to return to the city, where his father must needs have been in pain for him. The Prince told him:That he lost his way in the forest as he was hunting, and that he had lain in the cottage of a charcoal-burner, who gave him cheese and brown bread.The King, his father, who was a good man, believed him; but his mother could not be persuaded it was true; and seeing that he went almost every day a-hunting, and that he always had some excuse ready for so doing, though he had lain out three or four nights together, she began to suspect that he was married, for he lived with the Princess above two whole years, and had by her two children, the eldest of which, who was a daughter, was named Morning, and the youngest, who was a son, they called Day, because he was a great deal handsomer and more beautiful than his sister.The Queen spoke several times to her son, to inform herself after what manner he did pass his time, and that in this he ought in duty to satisfy her. But he never dared to trust her with his secret; he feared her, though he loved her, for she was of the race of the Ogres, and the King would never have married her had it not been for her vast riches; it was even whispered about the Court that she had Ogreish inclinations, and that, whenever she saw little children passing by, she had all the difficulty in the world to avoid falling upon them. And so the Prince would never tell her one word.But when the King was dead, which happened about two years afterward, and he saw himself lord and master, he openly declared his marriage; and he went in great ceremony to conduct his Queen to the palace. They made a magnificent entry into the capital city, she riding between her two children.Soon after the King went to make war with the Emperor Contalabutte, his neighbor. He left the government of the kingdom to the Queen his mother, and earnestly recommended to her care his wife and children. He was obliged to continue his expedition all the summer, and as soon as he departed the Queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law to a country house among the woods, that she might with the more ease gratify her horrible longing.Some few days afterward she went thither herself, and said to her clerk of the kitchen:“I have a mind to eat little Morning for my dinner to-morrow.”“Ah! madam,” cried the clerk of the kitchen.“I will have it so,” replied the Queen (and this she spoke in the tone of an Ogress who had a strong desire to eat fresh meat), “and will eat her with a sauce Robert.”The poor man, knowing very well that he must not play tricks with Ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little Morning’s chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him jumping and laughing, to take him about the neck, and ask him for some sugar-candy. Upon which he began to weep, the great knife fell out of his hand, and he went into the back yard, and killed a little lamb, and dressed it with such good sauce that his mistress assured him that she had never eaten anything so good in her life. He had at the same time taken up little Morning, and carried her to his wife, to conceal her in the lodging he had at the bottom of the courtyard.About eight days afterward the wicked Queen said to the clerk of the kitchen, “I will sup on little Day.”He answered not a word, being resolved to cheat her as he had done before. He went to find out little Day, and saw him with a little foil in his hand, with which he was fencing with a great monkey, the child being then only three years of age. He took him up in his arms and carried him to his wife, that she might conceal him in her chamber along with his sister, and in the room of little Day cooked up a young kid, very tender, which the Ogress found to be wonderfully good.This was hitherto all mighty well; but one evening this wicked Queen said to her clerk of the kitchen:“I will eat the Queen with the same sauce I had with her children.”It was now that the poor clerk of the kitchen despaired of being able to deceive her. The young Queen was turned of twenty, not reckoning the hundred years she had been asleep; and how to find in the yard a beast so firm was what puzzled him. He took then a resolution, that he might save his own life, to cut the Queen’s throat; and going up into her chamber, with intent to do it at once, he put himself into as great fury as he could possibly, and came into the young Queen’s room with his dagger in his hand. He would not, however, surprise her, but told her, with a great deal of respect, the orders he had received from the Queen-mother.“Do it; do it” (said she, stretching out her neck). “Execute your orders, and then I shall go and see my children, my poor children, whom I so much and so tenderly loved.”For she thought them dead ever since they had been taken away without her knowledge.“No, no, madam” (cried the poor clerk of the kitchen, all in tears); “you shall not die, and yet you shall see your children again; but then you must go home with me to my lodgings, where I have concealed them, and I shall deceive the Queen once more, by giving her in your stead a young hind.”Upon this he forthwith conducted her to his chamber, where, leaving her to embrace her children, and cry along with them, he went and dressed a young hind, which the Queen had for her supper, and devoured it with the same appetite as if it had been the young Queen. Exceedingly was she delighted with her cruelty, and she had invented a story to tell the King, at his return, how the mad wolves had eaten up the Queen his wife and her two children.One evening, as she was, according to her custom, rambling round about the courts and yards of the palace to see if she could smell any fresh meat, she heard, in a ground room, little Day crying, for his mamma was going to whip him, because he had been naughty; and she heard, at the same time, little Morning begging pardon for her brother.The Ogress presently knew the voice of the Queen and her children, and being quite mad that she had been thus deceived, she commanded next morning, by break of day (with a most horrible voice, which made everybody tremble), that they should bring into the middle of the great court a large tub, which she caused to be filled with toads, vipers, snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to have thrown into it the Queen and her children, the clerk of the kitchen, his wife and maid; all whom she had given orders should be brought thither with their hands tied behind them.They were brought out accordingly, and the executioners were just going to throw them into the tub, when the King (who was not so soon expected) entered the court on horseback (for he came post) and asked, with the utmost astonishment, what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle.No one dared to tell him, when the Ogress, all enraged to see what had happened, threw herself head foremost into the tub, and was instantly devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it for others. The King could not but be very sorry, for she was his mother; but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty children.
There once lived a king and queen who had an only daughter. And the beauty of this princess surpassed everything seen or heard of. Her forehead was brilliant as the moon, her lips like the rose, her complexion had the delicacy of the lily, and her breath the sweetness of jessamine. Her hair was golden, and in her voice and glance there was something so enchanting that none could help listening to her or looking at her.The princess lived for seventeen years in her own rooms, rejoicing the heart of her parents, teachers, and servants. No one else ever saw her, for the sons of the king and all other princes were forbidden to enter her rooms. She never went anywhere, never looked upon the outside world, and never breathed the outer air, but she was perfectly happy.When she was eighteen it happened, either by chance or by the will of fate, that she heard the cry of the cuckoo. This sound made her strangely uneasy; her golden head drooped, and covering her eyes with her hands, she fell into thought so deep as not to hear her mother enter. The queen looked at her anxiously, and after comforting her went to tell the king about it.For many years past the sons of kings and neighbouring princes had, either personally or by their ambassadors, presented themselves at court to ask the king for the hand of his daughter in marriage. But he had always bidden them wait until another time. Now, after a long consultation with the queen, he sent messengers to foreign courts and elsewhere to proclaim that the princess, in accordance with the wishes of her parents, was about to choose a husband, and that the man of her choice would also have the right of succession to the throne.When the princess heard of this decision her joy was very great, and for days she would dream about it. Then she looked out into the garden through the golden lattice of her window, and longed with an irresistible longing to walk in the open air upon the smooth lawn. With great difficulty she at last persuaded her governesses to allow her to do so, they agreeing on condition that she should keep with them. So the crystal doors were thrown open, the oaken gates that shut in the orchard turned on their hinges, and the princess found herself on the green grass. She ran about, picking the sweet-scented flowers and chasing the many-coloured butterflies. But she could not have been a very prudent maiden, for she wandered away from her governesses, with her face uncovered.Just at that moment a raging hurricane, such as had never been seen or heard before, passed by and fell upon the garden. It roared and whistled round and round, then seizing the princess carried her far away. The terrified governesses wrung their hands, and were for a time speechless with grief. At last they rushed into the palace, and throwing themselves on their knees before the king and queen, told them with sobs and tears what had happened. They were overwhelmed with sorrow and knew not what to do.By this time quite a crowd of princes had arrived at the palace, and seeing the king in such bitter grief, inquired the reason of it.“Sorrow has touched my white hairs,” said the king. “The hurricane has carried off my dearly beloved child, the sweet Princess with the Golden Hair, and I know not where it has taken her. Whoever finds this out, and brings her back to me, shall have her for his wife, and with her half my kingdom for a wedding present, and the remainder of my wealth and titles after my death.”After hearing these words, princes and knights mounted their horses and set off to search throughout the world for the beautiful Princess with the Golden Hair, who had been carried away by Vikher.Now among the seekers were two brothers, sons of a king, and they travelled together through many countries asking for news of the princess, but no one knew anything about her. But they continued their search, and at the end of two years arrived in a country that lies in the centre of the earth, and has summer and winter at the same time.The princes determined to find out whether this was the place where the hurricane had hidden the Princess with the Golden Hair. So they began to ascend one of the mountains on foot, leaving their horses behind them to feed on the grass. On reaching the top, they came in sight of a silver palace supported on a cock’s foot, while at one of the windows the sun’s rays shone upon a head of golden hair; surely it could only belong to the princess. Suddenly the north wind blew so violently, and the cold became so intense, that the leaves of the trees withered and the breath froze. The two princes tried to keep their footing, and battled manfully against the storm, but they were overcome by its fierceness and fell together, frozen to death.Their broken-hearted parents waited for them in vain. Masses were said, charities distributed, and prayers sent up to God to pity them in their sorrow.One day when the queen, the mother of the princes, was giving a poor old man some money she said to him, “My good old friend, pray God to guard our sons and soon bring them back in good health.”“Ah, noble lady,” answered he, “that prayer would be useless. Everlasting rest is all one may ask for the dead, but in return for the love you have shown and the money you have given the poor and needy, I am charged with this message—that God has taken pity on your sorrow, and that ere long you will be the mother of a son, the like of whom has never yet been seen.”The old man, having spoken thus, vanished.The queen, whose tears were falling, felt a strange joy enter her heart and a feeling of happiness steal over her, as she went to the king and repeated the old man’s words. And so it came to pass, for a week or two later God sent her a son, and he was in no way like an ordinary child. His eyes resembled those of a falcon, and his eyebrows the sable’s fur. His right hand was of pure gold, and his manner and appearance were so full of an indescribable majesty, that he was looked upon by every one with a feeling of awe.His growth, too, was not like that of other children. When but three days old, he stepped out of his swaddling-clothes and left his cradle. And he was so strong that when his parents entered the room he ran towards them, crying out, “Good morning, dear parents, why are you so sad? Are you not happy at the sight of me?”“We are indeed happy, dear child, and we thank God for having sent us you in our great grief. But we cannot forget your two brothers; they were so handsome and brave, and worthy of a great destiny. And our sadness is increased when we remember that, instead of resting in their own country in the tomb of their forefathers, they sleep in an unknown land, perhaps without burial. Alas! it is three years since we had news of them.”At these words the child’s tears fell, and he embraced his parents and said, “Weep no more, dear parents, you shall soon be comforted: for before next spring I shall be a strong young man, and will look for my brothers all over the world. And I will bring them back to you, if not alive, yet dead: ay, though I have to seek them in the very centre of the earth.”At these words and at that which followed the king and queen were amazed. For the strange child, guided as it were by an invisible hand, rushed into the garden, and in spite of the cold, for it was not yet daylight, bathed in the early dew. When the sun had risen he threw himself down near a little wood on the fine sand, rubbed and rolled himself in it, and returned home, no longer a child but a youth.It was pleasant to the king to see his son thrive in this way, and indeed the young prince was the handsomest in the whole land. He grew from hour to hour. At the end of a month he could wield a sword, in two months he rode on horseback, in three months he had grown a beautiful moustache of pure gold. Then he put on a helmet, and presenting himself before the king and queen, said: “My much honoured parents, your son asks your blessing. I am no longer a child, and now go to seek my brothers. In order to find them I will, if necessary, go to the furthest ends of the world.”“Ah, do not venture. Stay rather with us, dear son, you are still too young to be exposed to the risks of such an undertaking.”“Adventures have no terrors for me,” replied the young hero, “I trust in God. Why should I for a moment hesitate to face these dangers? Whatever Destiny has in store for us will happen, whatever we may do to try to prevent it.”So they agreed to let him go. Weeping they bade him farewell, blessing him and the road he was to travel.A pleasant tale is soon told, but events do not pass so quickly.The young prince crossed deep rivers and climbed high mountains, till he came to a dark forest. In the distance he saw a cottage supported on a cock’s foot, and standing in the midst of a field full of poppies. As he made his ways towards it he was suddenly seized by an overpowering longing to sleep, but he urged on his horse, and breaking off the poppy heads as he galloped through the field, came up close to the house. Then he called out:“Little cot, turn around, on thy foot turn thou free;To the forest set thy back, let thy door be wide to me.”The cottage turned round with a great creaking noise, the door facing the prince. He entered, and found an old woman with thin white hair and a face covered with wrinkles, truly frightful to look upon. She was sitting at a table, her head resting on her hands, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, lost in deep thought. Near her were two beautiful girls, their complexions like lilies and roses, and in every way sweet to the eye.“Ah, how do you do, Prince with Moustache of Gold, Hero with the Golden Fist?” said old Yaga; “what has brought you here?”Having told her the object of his journey, she replied, “Your elder brothers perished on the mountain that touches the clouds, while in search of the Princess with the Golden Hair, who was carried off by Vikher, the hurricane.”“And how is this thief Vikher to be got at?” asked the prince.“Ah, my dear child, he would swallow you like a fly. It is now a hundred years since I went outside this cottage, for fear Vikher should seize me and carry me off to his palace near the sky.”“I am not afraid of his carrying me off, I am not handsome enough for that; and he will not swallow me either, for my golden hand can smash anything.”“Then if you are not afraid, my dove, I will help you to the best of my power. But give me your word of honour that you will bring me some of the Water of Youth, for it restores even to the most aged the beauty and freshness of youth.”“I give you my word of honour that I will bring you some.”“This then is what you must do. I will give you a pin-cushion for a guide; this you throw in front of you, and follow whithersoever it goes. It will lead you to the mountain that touches the clouds, and which is guarded in Vikher’s absence by his father and mother, the northern blast and the south wind. On no account lose sight of the pin-cushion. If attacked by the father, the northern blast, and suddenly seized with cold, then put on this heat-giving hood: if overpowered by burning heat of the south wind, then drink from this cooling flagon. Thus by means of the pin-cushion, the hood, and the flagon, you will reach the top of the mountain where the Princess with the Golden Hair is imprisoned. Deal with Vikher as you will, only remember to bring me some of the Water of Youth.”Our young hero took the heat-giving hood, the cooling flagon, and the pin-cushion, and, after bidding farewell to old Yaga and her two pretty daughters, mounted his steed and rode off, following the pin-cushion, which rolled before him at a great rate.Now a beautiful story is soon told, but the events of which it consists do not in real life take place so rapidly.When the prince had travelled through two kingdoms, he came to a land in which lay a very beautiful valley that stretched into the far distance, and above it towered the mountain that touches the sky. The summit was so high above the earth you might almost fancy it reached the moon.The prince dismounted, left his horse to graze, and having crossed himself began to follow the pin-cushion up steep and rocky paths. When he had got half-way there the north wind began to blow, and the cold was so intense that the wood of the trees split up and the breath froze: he felt chilled to the heart. But he quickly put on the heat-giving hood, and cried:“O Heat-Giving Hood, see I fly now to thee,Lend me quickly thine aid;O hasten to warm ere the cold has killed me,With thee I’m not afraid.”The northern blast blew with redoubled fury, but to no purpose. For the prince was so hot that he streamed with perspiration, and indeed was obliged to unbutton his coat and fan himself.Here the pin-cushion stopped upon a small snow-covered mound. The prince cleared away the snow, beneath which lay the frozen bodies of two young men, and he knew them to be those of his lost brothers. Having knelt beside them and prayed he turned to follow the pin-cushion, which had already started, and was rolling ever higher and higher. On reaching the top of the mountain he saw a silver palace supported on a cock’s foot, and at one of the windows, shining in the sun’s rays, a head of golden hair which could belong to no one but the princess. Suddenly a hot wind began to blow from the south, and the heat became so intense that leaves withered and dropped from the trees, the grass dried up, and large cracks appeared in several places of the earth’s surface. Thirst, heat, and weariness began to tell upon the young prince, so he took the cooling flagon from his pocket and cried:“Flagon, bring me quick reliefFrom this parching heat;In thy draught I have belief,Coolness it will mete.”After drinking deeply he felt stronger than ever, and so continued to ascend. Not only was he relieved from the great heat, but was even obliged to button up his coat to keep himself warm.The pin-cushion still led the way, ever climbing higher and higher, while the prince followed close behind. After crossing the region of clouds they came to the topmost peak of the mountain. Here the prince came close to the palace, which can only be likened to a dream of perfect beauty. It was supported on a cock’s foot, and was built entirely of silver, except for its steel gates and roof of solid gold. Before the entrance was a deep precipice over which none but the birds could pass. As the prince gazed upon the splendid building the princess leaned out of one of the windows, and seeing him light shone from her sparkling eyes, her lovely hair floated in the wind, and the scent of her sweet breath filled the air. The prince sprang forward and cried out:“Silver Palace, oh turn, on thy foot turn thou free,To the steep rocks thy back, but thy doors wide to me.”At these words it revolved creaking, the doorway facing the prince. As he entered it returned to its original position. The prince went through the palace till he came to a room bright as the sun itself, and the walls, floor, and ceiling of which consisted of mirrors. He was filled with wonder, for instead of one princess he saw twelve, all equally beautiful, with the same graceful movements and golden hair. But eleven were only reflections of the one real princess. She gave a cry of joy on seeing him, and running to meet him, said: “Ah, noble sir, you look like a delivering angel. Surely you bring me good news. From what family, city, or country have you come? Perhaps my dear father and mother sent you in search of me?”“No one has sent me, I have come of my own free will to rescue you and restore you to your parents.”When he had told her all that had passed she said, “Your devotion, prince, is very great; may God bless your attempt. But Vikher the hurricane is unconquerable, so, if life be dear to you, fly. Leave this place before his return, which I expect every minute; he will kill you with one glance of his eyes.”“If I should not succeed in saving you, sweet princess, life can be no longer dear to me. But I am full of hope, and I beg you first to give me some of the Strength-Giving Water from the Heroic Well, for this is drunk by the hurricane.”The princess drew a bucketful of water, which the young man emptied at one draught and then asked for another. This astonished her somewhat, but she gave it him, and when he had drunk it he said, “Allow me, princess, to sit down for a moment to take breath.”She gave him an iron chair, but directly he sat down it broke into a thousand pieces. She then brought him the chair used by Vikher himself, but although it was made of the strongest steel, it bent and creaked beneath the prince’s weight.“Now you see,” said he, “that I have grown heavier than your unconquerable hurricane: so take courage, with God’s help and your good wishes I shall overcome him. In the meantime tell me how you pass your time here.”“Alas! in bitter tears and sad reflections. My only consolation is that I have been able to keep my persecutor at a distance, for he vainly implores me to marry him. Two years have now passed away, and yet none of his efforts to win my consent have been successful. Last time he went away he told me that if on his return he had not guessed the riddles I set him (the correct explanation of these being the condition I have made for his marrying me), he would set them aside, and marry me in spite of my objections.”“Ah, then I am just in time. I will be the priest on that occasion, and give him Death for a bride.”At that moment a horrible whistling was heard.“Be on your guard, prince,” cried she, “here comes the hurricane.”The palace spun rapidly round, fearful sounds filled the building, thousands of ravens and birds of ill omen croaked loudly and flapped their wings, and all the doors opened with a tremendous noise.Vikher, mounted on his winged horse that breathed fire, leapt into the mirrored room, then stopped amazed at the sight before him. He was indeed the hurricane, with the body of a giant and the head of a dragon, and as he gazed his horse pranced and beat his wings.“What is your business here, stranger?” he shouted: and the sound of his voice was like unto a lion’s roar.“I am your enemy, and I want your blood,” replied the prince calmly.“Your boldness amuses me. At the same time, if you do not depart at once I will take you in my left hand and crush every bone in your body with my right.”“Try, if you dare, woman-stealer,” he answered.Vikher roared, breathing fire in his rage, and with his mouth wide open threw himself upon the prince, intending to swallow him. But the latter stepped lightly aside, and putting his golden hand down his enemy’s throat, seized him by the tongue and dashed him against the wall with such force that the monster bounded against it like a ball, and died within a few moments, shedding torrents of blood.The prince then drew from different springs the water that restores, that revives, and that makes young, and taking the unconscious girl in his arms he led the winged horse to the door and said:“Silver Palace, oh turn, on thy foot turn thou free,To the steep rocks thy back, the courtyard may I see.”Whereupon the palace creaked round on the cock’s foot, and the door opened on the courtyard. Mounting the horse he placed the princess before him, for she had by this time recovered from her swoon, and cried:“Fiery Horse with strength of wing,I am now your lord;Do my will in everything,Be your law my word.Where I point there you must goAt once, at once. The way you know.”And he pointed to the place where his brothers lay frozen in death. The horse rose, pranced, beat the air with his wings, then, lifting himself high in the air, came down gently where the two princes were lying. The Prince with the Golden Hand sprinkled their bodies with the Life-Restoring Water, and instantly the pallor of death disappeared, leaving in its place the natural colour. He then sprinkled them with the Water that Revives, after which they opened their eyes, got up, and looking round said, “How well we have slept: but what has happened? And how is it we see the lovely princess we sought in the society of a young man, a perfect stranger to us?”The Prince with the Golden Hand explained everything, embraced his brothers tenderly, and taking them with him on his horse, showed the latter that he wished to go in the direction of Yaga’s cottage. The horse rose up, pranced, lifted himself in the air, then, beating his wings far above the highest forests, descended close by the cottage. The prince said:“Little cot, turn around, on thy foot turn thou free,To the forest thy back, but thy door wide to me.”The cottage began to creak without delay, and turned round with the floor facing the travellers. Old Yaga was on the look-out, and came to meet them. As soon as she got the Water of Youth she sprinkled herself with it, and instantly everything about her that was old and ugly became young and charming. So pleased was she to be young again that she kissed the prince’s hands and said, “Ask of me anything you like, I will refuse you nothing.”At that moment her two beautiful young daughters happened to look out of the window, upon which the two elder princes, who were admiring them, said, “Will you give us your daughters for wives?”“That I will, with pleasure,” said she, and beckoned them to her. Then curtseying to her future sons-in-law, she laughed merrily and vanished. They placed their brides before them on the same horse, while the Prince with the Golden Hand, pointing to where he wished to go, said:“Fiery Horse with strength of wing,I am now your lord;Do my will in everything,Be your law my word.Where I point there you must goAt once, at once. The way you know.”The horse rose up, pranced, flapped his wings, and flew far above the forest. An hour or two later he descended before the palace of the Golden-Haired Princess’s parents. When the king and queen saw their only daughter who had so long been lost to them, they ran to meet her with exclamations of joy and kissed her gratefully and lovingly, at the same time thanking the prince who had restored her to them. And when they heard the story of his adventures they said: “You, Prince with the Golden Hand, shall receive our beloved daughter in marriage, with the half of our kingdom, and the right of succession to the remainder after us. Let us, too, add to the joy of this day by celebrating the weddings of your two brothers.”The Princess with the Golden Hair kissed her father lovingly and said, “My much honoured and noble sire and lord, the prince my bridegroom knows of the vow I made when carried off by the hurricane, that I would only give my hand to him who could answer aright my six enigmas: it would be impossible for the Princess with the Golden Hair to break her word.”The king was silent, but the prince said, “Speak, sweet princess, I am listening.”“This is my first riddle: ‘Two of my extremities form a sharp point, the two others a ring, in my centre is a screw.’”“A pair of scissors,” answered he.“Well guessed. This is the second: ‘I make the round of the table on only one foot, but if I am wounded the evil is beyond repair.’”“A glass of wine.”“Right. This is the third: ‘I have no tongue, and yet I answer faithfully; I am not seen, yet every one hears me.’”“True. This is the fourth: ‘Fire cannot light me; brush cannot sweep me; no painter can paint me; no hiding-place secure me.’”“Sunshine.”“The very thing. This is the fifth: ‘I existed before the creation of Adam. I am always changing in succession the two colours of my dress. Thousands of years have gone by, but I have remained unaltered both in colour and form.’”“It must be time, including day and night.”“You have succeeded in guessing the five most difficult, the last is the easiest of all. ‘By day a ring, by night a serpent; he who guesses this shall be my bridegroom.’”“It is a girdle.”“Now they are all guessed,” said she, and gave her hand to the young prince.They knelt before the king and queen to receive their blessing. The three weddings were celebrated that same evening, and a messenger mounted the winged horse to carry the good news to the parents of the young princes and to bring them back as guests. Meanwhile a magnificent feast was prepared, and invitations were sent to all their friends and acquaintances. And from that evening until the next morning they ceased not to feast and drink and dance. I too was a guest, and feasted with the rest; but though I ate and drank, the wine only ran down my beard, and my throat remained dry.
Once long ago, there lived a king who had a stupid son. His father sent him to school for many years hoping that he might learn something there. His teachers all gave him up as hopelessly stupid, and with one accord they said, “It is no use trying to teach this lad out of books. It is just a waste of our valuable time.”At length the king called together all the wisest men of his kingdom to consult with them as to the best way to make the prince wise and clever. They talked the matter over for a year and a day. It was the unanimous opinion of the wise men of the kingdom that the lad should be sent on a journey through many lands. In this way he might learn many of the things which his teachers had not been able to teach him out of books.Accordingly the prince was equipped for his journey. He was given fine raiment, a splendid black horse upon which to ride, and a great bag full of money. Thus prepared, he started forth from the palace one bright morning with the blessing of the king, his father, and of all the wise men of the kingdom.The prince journeyed through many lands. In one country he learned one thing, and in another country he learned another thing. There was no country or kingdom so small or poor that it did not have something to teach the prince. And the prince, though he had been so insufferably stupid at his books, learned the lessons of his journey with an open mind.After long wanderings the prince arrived at a city where there was an auction going on. A singing bird was being offered for sale. “What is the special advantage of this singing bird?” asked the prince.“This bird, at the command of its owner, will sing a song which will put to sleep any one who listens to it,” was the reply.The prince decided that the bird was worth purchasing.The next thing which was offered for sale was a beetle. “What is the special advantage of this beetle?” asked the prince.“This beetle will gnaw its way through any wall in the world,” was the reply.The prince purchased the beetle.Then a butterfly was offered for sale. “What is the special advantage of owning this butterfly?” asked the prince.“This butterfly is strong enough to bear upon its wings any weight which is put upon them,” was the answer.The prince bought the butterfly. With his bird and beetle and butterfly he travelled on and on until he became lost in the jungle. The foliage was so dense that he could not see his way, so he climbed to the top of the tallest tree he saw. From its summit he spied in the distance what looked like a mountain; but, when he had journeyed near to it, he saw that it was really the wall which surrounds the land of the giants.A great giant whose head reached to the clouds stood on the wall as guard. A song from the singing bird put this guard to sleep immediately. The beetle soon had gnawed an entrance through the wall. Through this opening the prince entered the land of the giants.The very first person whom the prince saw in the land of the giants was a lovely captive princess. The opening which the beetle had made in the wall led directly to the dungeon in which she was confined.The prince had learned many things on his journey, and among the lessons he had learned was this one: “Always rescue a fair maiden in distress.” He immediately asked what he could do to rescue the beautiful captive princess.“You can never succeed in rescuing me, I fear,” replied the princess. “At the door of this palace there is a giant on guard who never sleeps.”“Never mind,” replied the prince. “I’ll put him to sleep.”Just at that moment, the giant himself strode into the dungeon. He had heard voices there. “Sing, my little bird, sing,” commanded the prince to his singing bird.At the first burst of melody, the giant went to sleep there in the dungeon, though he had never before taken a wink of sleep in all his life.“This beetle of mine has gnawed an entrance through the great wall which surrounds the land of the giants,” said the prince to the captive princess. “To escape we’ll not have to climb the high wall.”“What of the guard who stands on top of the wall with his head reaching up to the clouds?” asked the princess. “Will he not spy us?”“My singing bird has put him to sleep, too,” replied the prince. “If we hurry out he will not yet be awake.”“I have been confined here in this dungeon so long that I fear I have forgotten how to walk,” said the princess.“Never mind,” replied the prince. “My butterfly will bear you upon his wings.”“With the lovely princess borne safely upon the butterfly’s wings the prince swiftly escaped from the land of the giants.” Illustration by Helen Barton, published in Tales of Giants from Brazil by Elsie Spicer Eells (1918), Dodd, Mead and Company.With the lovely princess borne safely upon the butterfly’s wings the prince swiftly escaped from the land of the giants. The giant on the wall yawned in his sleep as they looked up at him. “He is good for another hour’s nap,” remarked the prince.The prince returned to his father’s kingdom as soon as he could find the way back. He took with him the lovely princess, and the singing bird, and the gnawing beetle, and the strong-winged butterfly.His father and all the people of the kingdom received him with great joy. “Never again will the prince of our kingdom be called stupid,” said the wise men when they heard the account of his adventures. “With his singing bird and his gnawing beetle and his strong-winged butterfly he has become the cleverest youth in the land.”
Winnepurkit, sagamore of the coast settlements between Nahant and Cape Ann, had married Weetamoo, daughter of Passaconaway, king of the Pennacooks, and had taken her to his home. Their honeymoon was happy, but old ties are strong, and after a little time the bride felt a longing to see her people again. When she made known this wish the husband not only consented to her visit, but gave her a guard of his most trusty hunters who saw her safe in her father’s lodge (near the site of Concord, New Hampshire), and returned directly. Presently came a messenger from Passaconaway, informing his son-in-law that Weetamoo had finished her visit and wished again to be with her husband, to whom he looked for an escort to guide her through the wilderness. Winnepurkit felt that his dignity as a chief was slighted by this last request, and he replied that as he had supplied her with a guard for the outward journey it was her father’s place to send her back, “for it stood not with Winnepurkit’s reputation either to make himself or his men so servile as to fetch her again.”Passaconaway returned a sharp answer that irritated Winnepurkit still more, and he was told by the young sagamore that he might send his daughter or keep her, for she would never be sent for. In this unhappy strife for precedent, which has been repeated on later occasions by princes and society persons, the young wife seemed to be fated as an unwilling sacrifice; but summoning spirit to leave her father’s wigwam she launched a canoe on the Merrimack, hoping to make her way along that watery highway to her husband’s domain. It was winter, and the stream was full of floating ice; at the best of times it was not easy to keep a frail vessel of bark in the current away from the rapids, and a wandering hunter reported that a canoe had come down the river guided by a woman, that it had swung against the Amoskeag rocks, where Manchester stands now, and a few moments later was in a quieter reach of water, broken and empty. No more was seen of Weetamoo.
There was once a turtle who lived among a great many people of different kinds, in a large camp near a big river which was born right up amongst the snows, and flowed straight away south till it reached a sea where the water was always hot.There were many other turtles in the camp, and this turtle was kind and pleasant to them all, but he did not care for any of them very much, and felt rather lonely.At last he built himself a hut, and filled it with skins for seats, and made it as comfortable as any hut for miles round; and when it was quite finished he looked about among the young women to see which of them he should ask to be his wife.It took him some time to make up his mind, for no turtle likes being hurried, but at length he found one girl who seemed prettier and more industrious than the rest, and one day he entered her home, and said: ‘Will you marry me?’The young woman was so surprised at this question that she dropped the beaded slipper she was making, and stared at the turtle. She felt inclined to laugh–the idea was so absurd; but she was kind-hearted and polite, so she looked as grave as she could, and answered:‘But how are you going to provide for a family? Why, when the camp moves, you will not even be able to keep up with the rest!’‘I can keep up with the best of them,’ replied the turtle, tossing his head. But though he was very much offended he did not let the girl see it, and begged and, prayed her so hard to marry him that, at last, she consented, very unwillingly.‘You will have to wait till the spring, though,’ she said; ‘I must make a great many slippers and dresses for myself, as I shall not have much time afterwards.’This did not please the turtle; but he knew it was no use talking, so all he answered was:‘I shall go to war and take some captives, and I shall be away several months. And when I return I shall expect you to be ready to marry me.’So he went back to his hut, and at once set about his preparations. The first thing he did was to call all his relations together, and ask them if they would come with him and make war on the people of a neighbouring village. The turtles, who were tired of doing nothing, agreed at once, and next day the whole tribe left the camp. The girl was standing at the door of her hut as they passed, and laughed out loud–they moved so slowly. Her lover, who was marching at the head, grew very angry at this, and cried out:‘In four days from now you will be weeping instead of laughing, because there will be hundreds of miles between you and me.’‘In four days,’ replied the girl–who only promised to marry him in order to get rid of him–‘in four days you will hardly be out of sight.’‘Oh, I did not mean four days, but four YEARS,’ answered the turtle, hastily; ‘whatever happens I shall be back by then.’The army marched on, till one day, when they felt as if they must have got half round the earth, though they were scarcely four miles from the camp, they found a large tree lying across their path. They looked at it with dismay, and the oldest among them put their heads together to see what was to be done.‘Can’t we manage to get past by the top?’ asked one.‘Why, it would take us YEARS,’ exclaimed another. ‘Just look at all those tall green branches, spreading in every direction. If once we got entangled in THEM, we should never get out again!’‘Well then, let us go round by the bottom,’ said a third.‘How are we to do that, when the roots have made a deep hole, and above that is a high bank?’ replied a fourth. ‘No; the only way I can think of, is to burn a large hole in the trunk.’ And this they did, but the trunk was very thick, and would not burn through.‘It is no use, we must give it up,’ they agreed at last. ‘After all, nobody need ever know! We have been away such a long while that we might easily have had all sorts of adventures.’ And so the whole company turned homewards again.They took even longer to go back than they had to come, for they were tired and footsore with their journey. When they drew near the camp they plucked up their courage, and began to sing a war- song. At this the villagers came flocking to see what spoils the turtles had won, but, as they approached, each turtle seized some one by the wrist, exclaiming: ‘You are our spoils; you are our prisoners!’‘Now that I have got you I will keep you,’ said the leader, who had happened to seize his betrothed.Everybody was naturally very angry at this behaviour, and the girl most of all, and in her secret heart she determined to have her revenge. But, just at present, the turtles were too strong, so the prisoners had to put on their smartest slippers and their brightest clothes, and dance a war dance while the turtles sang. They danced so long that it seemed as if they would never stop, till the turtle who was leading the singing suddenly broke into a loud chant:Whoever comes here, will die, will die!At this all the dancers grew so frightened that they burst through the ring of their captors, and ran back to the village, the turtles following–very slowly. On the way the chief turtle met a man, who said to him:‘That woman who was to have been your wife has married another man!’‘Is that true?’ said the turtle. ‘Then I must see him.’But as soon as the villager was out of sight the turtle stopped, and taking a bundle containing fringes and ornaments from his back, he hung them about him, so that they rattled as he walked. When he was quite close to the hut where the woman lived, he cried out:‘Here I am to claim the woman who promised to be my wife.’‘Oh, here is the turtle,’ whispered the husband hurriedly; ‘what is to be done now?’‘Leave that to me; I will manage him,’ replied the wife, and at that moment the turtle came in, and seized her by the wrist. ‘Come with me,’ he said sternly.‘You broke your promise,’ answered she. ‘You said you would be back soon, and it is more than a year since you went! How was I to know that you were alive?’At her words the husband took courage, and spoke hastily:‘Yes, you promised you would go to war and bring back some prisoners, and you have not done it.’‘I DID go, and made many prisoners,’ retorted the turtle angrily, drawing out his knife. ‘Look here, if she won’t be MY wife, she sha’n’t be YOURS. I will cut her in two; and you shall have one half, and I the other.’‘But half a woman is no use to me,’ answered the man. ‘If you want her so much you had better take her.’ And the turtle, followed by his relations, carried her off to his own hut.Now the woman saw she would gain nothing by being sulky, so she pretended to be very glad to have got rid of her husband; but all the while she was trying to invent a plan to deliver herself from the turtle. At length she remembered that one of her friends had a large iron pot, and when the turtle had gone to his room to put away his fringes, she ran over to her neighbour’s and brought it back. Then she filled it with water and hung it over the fire to boil. It was just beginning to bubble and hiss when the turtle entered.‘What are you doing there?’ asked he, for he was always afraid of things that he did not understand.‘Just warming some water,’ she answered. ‘Do you know how to swim?’‘Yes, of course I do. What a question! But what does it matter to you?’ said the turtle, more suspicious than ever.‘Oh, I only thought that after your long journey you might like to wash. The roads are so muddy, after the winter’s rains. I could rub your shell for you till it was bright and shining again.‘Well, I AM rather muddy. If one is fighting, you know, one cannot stop to pick one’s way. I should certainly be more comfortable if my back was washed.’The woman did not wait for him to change his mind. She caught him up by his shell and popped him straight into the pot, where he sank to the bottom, and died instantly.The other turtles, who were standing at the door, saw their leader disappear, and felt it was their duty as soldiers to follow him; and, springing into the pot, died too. All but one young turtle, who, frightened at not seeing any of his friends come out again, went as fast as he could to a clump of bushes, and from there made his way to the river. His only thought was to get away as far as possible from that dreadful hut; so he let the river carry him where it was going itself, and at last, one day, he found himself in the warm sea, where, if he is not dead, you may meet him still.
Once upon a time there was a King who had a daughter who was quite beautiful. When she was of marriageable age the King sent heralds inviting all the young men of his realm to come to court in order that the Princess might make her selection. On the appointed day all the young men of the country passed before the Princess, who was standing with a golden apple in her hand that she might throw it at the choice of her heart. She threw the apple, and lo! it hit a poor widow’s son. It was reported to the King, who was angry, and said:“It cannot be; we must try it once more.”On the following day the Princess again threw the apple, and once more hit the same poor widow’s son. On the third trial the same lad proved to be the maiden’s choice. Thereupon the King was very angry, and expelled both the maiden and the lad from the court and the royal city. The lad took the maiden to the house of his mother, a poor old hut near the bridge without the city. The old widow, seeing the maiden, said to her son:“We had not bread enough to keep us alive, and lo! you have brought a tender maiden. How shall we live now?”“Be not angry, mamma,” said the maiden, humbly, “I know how to spin yarn, and we shall be able to earn our living.”In this manner they lived a few months. Then they decided that the youth should travel and sojourn in other countries in order to earn money. On the following day they saw a merchant crossing the bridge with eighty camel-loads of merchandise destined for Arabia. The lad offered the merchant his services in the caravan. The merchant accepted, and the lad came home to make ready.“Before you set out,” said the bride, “go to yonder convent where there is a wise monk and ask him to give you some good advice, which you may need in your travels.”The lad went, and the old monk gave him the following maxims for his guidance:First, “She whom one loves the best is the most beautiful;” secondly, “Patience leads to safety;” thirdly, “There is a good in every patient waiting.”He came back to his bride, who said:“Commit these wise words to memory; you will no doubt have need of them.”“Farewell!” said the youth.“Farewell!” said the young bride.The lad departed from her. After a long journey the caravan camped in a desert near Arabia. There had camped before them also a large caravan composed of eighty other merchants. The lad was tired and soon fell into a deep sleep. There were many men and animals in the caravan, and all were thirsty. In that desert there was only one well, and that was dangerous; of all who had gone down to draw water, not one had ever come out. In the middle of the night, the lad was wakened by the crying of a herald in the caravan, who announced that each merchant was offering ten pieces of gold to the man who would descend into the well and draw water for men and animals. The lad, coveting the sum, promised to go down. His master pitied him, and tried to prevent him, but it was too late.“You are going down into that dangerous well of your own free will,” he said; “your blood shall be upon your own head. But if you come out safely, one of my camels shall be yours with the merchandise upon it.”They let the lad down with a rope. Reaching the bottom, he saw a flowing river of fresh water; he drank and quenched his thirst. Lifting up his eyes, nearby he saw a Giant sitting with a maiden on each side, one colored and the other white.“Look, human being,” exclaimed the Giant; “I will ask you a question. If you answer it rightly I will let you go; if not, I will kill you with this club, as I have killed so many men before you. Which of these two maidens is the beautiful one, and which the ugly?”The lad remembered the first maxim of the old monk, and said: “She whom one loves the most is the most beautiful.”The Giant jumped up, and kissing the lad on the forehead, said: “Well done, youth! you gave me the only right answer; all the rest were wrong.”He then asked the lad the cause of his descent, and said:“This well is enchanted; I must therefore give you a safe conduct. Take these three apples, and after drawing water enough, when you go up, drop one of these apples as soon as your feet are lifted from the ground; drop the second one when you reach the middle, and the third apple when you approach the well’s mouth. Thus you will have a safe return.”And the Giant gave to the lad three pomegranates as a present, one white, one green and one red. The lad put them in his pockets, and after sending a sufficiency of water for the caravan, gave a sign to be drawn up. He threw the three apples just as he was directed by the Giant, and reached the surface safely. The merchants gave him the 800 pieces of gold and his master a camel’s load of merchandise, as previously promised. The lad said to his master that he wanted to send the camel’s load of merchandise and the money to his wife. His master consented, and the lad, putting the three pomegranates in the load, sent it with a driver to his hut near the bridge under the sycamore tree. The merchant promoted the lad, and made him superintendent of the camel drivers. After a time the merchant died, and his wife continued to do the business. She liked the lad and adopted him as her son. Thus he worked with that merchant and his wife for twenty years. One day he was granted permission by his adopted mother to go and visit his family, and he set out on his journey.Leaving him on his way for a moment, let us turn to his family. A few months after the departure of the youth Heaven blessed his humble home by the birth of a son. When the camel’s load of merchandise, money and pomegranates arrived, both the old widow and her young daughter-in-law were greatly pleased. At first sight the Princess knew that the pomegranates were not common fruits, but jewels; but the old widow, who thought they were common pomegranates, prepared to cut them, saying:“Heaven’s blessing rest upon you, my son, that you have remembered your aged mother by sending her fruits to eat!”The bride snatched them from her hand and kept them in the drawer. Thereupon the old woman was offended, cursed her daughter-in-law and withdrew to the adjoining room. The bride ran to the neighboring shop, and buying three common pomegranates, brought them to her, saying:“Mamma, be not offended; pardon my harsh conduct. Here are the pomegranates; you may eat them.”And mother and daughter were reconciled. The Princess then bought new dresses for her mother-in-law, herself, and the baby. She filled her mother-in-law’s pocket with gold pieces, and cutting a slice from one of the pomegranates, put it in a costly golden box and gave it to her, saying:“Now, mamma, go to the King’s palace, and giving the gold pieces as a present to the attendants, say you want to see the King, and give him this golden box with the slice of pomegranate in it. When he asks you what you want, say that you have brought it to him as a present, and that you want nothing but a decree sealed with the royal seal, permitting you to do whatever you please without being molested.”The old woman, making herself as trim as she could, started on the errand and did all that the Princess had bid her. The King, upon seeing the jewels in the shape of a pomegranate slice, at once called the royal jewelers to set a price on them. The jewelers, examining the slice of pomegranate, said:“No one can set a price on this. Let a lad of fifteen stand and throw a stone with all his might toward the sky; a heap of gold as high as that would hardly equal the value of this wonderful row of precious stones.”The King thought there was not so much gold in his treasury.“Do you want the price of this jewel, or have you brought it as a present to the King?” asked the King of the woman.“I have brought it as a present to your majesty,” answered the woman.“What favor do you want in recompense?” asked the King.The old woman answered as she had been advised by her daughter-in-law. The royal decree was immediately signed, sealed, and given to the old woman, who brought it to her daughter-in-law. As soon as the Princess took the royal edict, she sent slices of the three pomegranates to all the seven Kings of the world and received in recompense treasure inestimable. She then built a splendid palace in the place of the poor old hut, and decorated it with silver, gold, and the rest of the jewels, which illumined the palace by night, making it as bright and lustrous as the twinkling morning star. The fame of this palace spread all over the world, and people came to see its splendor. The King also came to see it and admired it, because it contained so many beautiful things which were not to be found in his own palace. He visited all parts of it and sighed deeply from his heart, saying:“I wish my only daughter was not lost, and that she lived in this magnificent building!”From behind the curtain his daughter heard him speak, and she also sighed. The Princess’ son had by this time grown into a good-looking, intelligent lad, and it was he who made a grand princely reception to the King in the new palace. The King greatly liked the lad and took him into his service. Seeing that he was an uncommon youth, displaying extraordinary ability in everything he handled, the King was so much pleased with him that he advanced him to the position of commander of his forces, without knowing that he was his own grandson.Now let us return to the father of the commander. He arrived in his country and went directly in search of the bride, with the expectation of finding his lowly hut under the sycamore tree. But to his disappointment and surprise he found in its place a magnificent palace, the most magnificent indeed that he had seen in his travels of twenty years’ duration. There was nothing left of the old hut, only the sycamore tree which had grown taller and thicker during the past twenty years. As a stranger he walked into the yard, approached the old sycamore tree, his only acquaintance in the neighborhood, and climbed it. Soon he saw a woman and the commander come to the porch and sit upon the sofa near one another. He knew the woman; she was his wife, the Princess. Twenty years seemed to have made little change in her. But why was she in this splendid palace and not in his hut? And what was the business of the commander there? Suspicion filled his mind, and he drew his bow and arrow with the intention of killing both of them. Just at that moment he remembered the old monk’s second maxim—“Patience leads to safety,” and he did not use his arms. Presently he saw the commander and his wife embracing one another. This time his blood ran to his brain and he drew his bow and arrow to shoot; but remembered the old monk’s third maxim—“There is good in all patient waiting,” and again he did not shoot. He began, however, to listen attentively to their talk, and heard the commander saying:“Mother, is my father living? Where is he? Last night I dreamed in my dream that he had come home.”Thereupon his mother told him all this story, which she had till then kept secret from him.“What!” exclaimed the young commander, “you the daughter of the King; I the commander of his army; this palace our home, and my father a wanderer in foreign lands! It is impossible! I will to-morrow take my army and go and find my father.”His father, who was listening to his words from the tree, felt the great tears rolling down his cheeks. After nightfall he came down from the tree, and spent the night in a neighboring inn. The following morning he sent messages to his wife and son, bearing the good tidings of his arrival. Their meeting was a very happy one. The King, hearing of the return of his dear commander’s father, hastened to express his congratulations and best wishes. Entering the palace he met, to his great surprise, his daughter, who with her husband and son fell on their knees, begging the blessing of the King. The old King was almost mad with joy, and embraced them all, shedding tears.“Now I see,” he exclaimed, “that it is useless to strive to undo what destiny has decreed. It was destined that you should marry one another, and lo! you prove to be the best match that I could desire.”As the King had no other child except that daughter, upon his death his son-in-law succeeded him upon the throne. Thus they reached the highest glory of this world. May Heaven grant that we may all reach the highest glory of the world to come!
Now it chanced many years since that there lived on the Borders a jolly rattling horse-cowper, who was remarkable for a reckless and fearless temper, which made him much admired and a little dreaded amongst his neighbours. One moonlight night, as he rode over Bowden Moor, on the west side of the Eildon Hills, the scene of Thomas the Rhymer’s prophecies, and often mentioned in his history, having a brace of horses along with him, which he had not been able to dispose of, he met a man of venerable appearance and singularly antique dress, who, to his great surprise, asked the price of his horses, and began to chaffer with him on the subject. To Canobie Dick, for so shall we call our Border dealer, a chap was a chap, and he would have sold a horse to the devil himself, without minding his cloven hoof, and would have probably cheated Old Nick into the bargain. The stranger paid the price they agreed on, and all that puzzled Dick in the transaction was, that the gold which he received was in unicorns, bonnet-pieces, and other ancient coins, which would have been invaluable to collectors, but were rather troublesome in modern currency. It was gold, however, and therefore Dick contrived to get better value for the coin than he perhaps gave to his customer. By the command of so good a merchant, he brought horses to the same spot more than once; the purchaser only stipulating that he should always come by night and alone. I do not know whether it was from mere curiosity, or whether some hope of gain mixed with it, but after Dick had sold several horses in this way, he began to complain that dry bargains were unlucky, and to hint, that since his chap must live in the neighbourhood, he ought, in the courtesy of dealing, to treat him to half a mutchkin.“You may see my dwelling if you will,” said the stranger; “but if you lose courage at what you see there, you will rue it all your life.”Dickon, however, laughed the warning to scorn, and having alighted to secure his horse, he followed the stranger up a narrow footpath, which led them up the hills to the singular eminence stuck betwixt the most southern and the centre peaks, and called, from its resemblance to such an animal in its form, the Lucken Hare. At the foot of this eminence, which is almost as famous for witch-meetings as the neighbouring windmill of Kippilaw, Dick was somewhat startled to observe that his conductor entered the hillside by a passage or cavern, of which he himself, though well acquainted with the spot, had never seen nor heard.“You may still return,” said his guide, looking ominously back upon him; but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on they went. They entered a very long range of stables; in every stall stood a coal-black horse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-black armour, with a drawn sword in his hand; but all were as silent, hoof and limb, as if they had been cut out of marble. A great number of torches lent a gloomy lustre to the hall, which, like those of the Caliph Vathek, was of large dimensions. At the upper end, however, they at length arrived, where a sword and horn lay on an antique table.“He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword,” said the stranger, who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas of Ercildoun, “shall, if his heart fail him not, be king over all broad Britain. So speaks the tongue that cannot lie. But all depends on courage, and much on your taking the sword or horn first.”“He took the bugle with a trembling hand, and blew a feeble note, but loud enough to produce a terrible answer.” Illustration by Morris Meredith Wilson, published in The Scottish Fairy Book by Elizabeth Grierson (1910), Frederick A. Stokes Company.Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold spirit was quailed by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and he thought to unsheathe the sword first might be construed into defiance, and give offence to the powers of the mountain. He took the bugle with a trembling hand, and blew a feeble note, but loud enough to produce a terrible answer. Thunder rolled in stunning peals through the immense hall; horses and men started to life; the steeds snorted, stamped, ground their bits, and tossed their heads; the warriors sprang to their feet, clashed their armour, and brandished their swords. Dick’s terror was extreme at seeing the whole army, which had been so lately silent as the grave, in uproar, and about to rush on him. He dropped the horn, and made a feeble attempt to seize the enchanted sword; but at the same moment a voice pronounced aloud the mysterious words—“Woe to the coward, that ever he was born,Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!”At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled through the long hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of the mouth of the cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank of loose stones, where the shepherds found him the next morning, with just breath sufficient to tell his fearful tale, after concluding which he expired.
A Herdsman tending his flock in a forest lost a Bull-calf from the fold. After a long and fruitless search, he made a vow that, if he could only discover the thief who had stolen the Calf, he would offer a lamb in sacrifice to Hermes, Pan, and the Guardian Deities of the forest. Not long afterwards, as he ascended a small hillock, he saw at its foot a Lion feeding on the Calf. Terrified at the sight, he lifted his eyes and his hands to heaven, and said: “Just now I vowed to offer a lamb to the Guardian Deities of the forest if I could only find out who had robbed me; but now that I have discovered the thief, I would willingly add a full-grown Bull to the Calf I have lost, if I may only secure my own escape from him in safety.”
To the west of the gulf of Kiautschou is the Wu-Lian Mountain, where there are many spirits. Once upon a time a scholar who lived there was sitting up late at night, reading. And, as he stepped out before the house, a storm rose up suddenly, and a monster stretched out his claws and seized him by the hair. And he lifted him up in the air and carried him away. They passed by the tower which looks out to sea, a Buddhist temple in the hills. And in the distance, in the clouds, the scholar saw the figure of a god in golden armor. The figure looked exactly like the image of Weto which was in the tower. In its right hand it held an iron mace, while its left pointed toward the monster, and it looked at it with anger. Then the monster let the scholar fall, right on top of the tower, and disappeared. No doubt the saint in the tower had come to the scholar’s aid, because his whole family worshiped Buddha dutifully.When the sun rose the priest came and saw the scholar on his tower. He piled up hay and straw on the ground; so that he could jump down without hurting himself. Then he took the scholar home, yet there where the monster had seized his hair, the hair remained stiff and unyielding. It did not improve until half a year had gone by.Note: This legend comes from Dschungschong, west of the gulf of Kiautschou. “The tower which looks out to sea,” a celebrated tower which gives a view of the ocean. At present the people give this name to the Tsingtau Signal Station. Weto (Sanscrit, Veda), a legendary Boddhisatva, leader of the hosts of the four kings of heaven. His picture, with drawn sword, may be found at the entrance of every Buddhist temple. In China, he is often represented with a mace (symbolizing a thunderbolt) instead of a sword. When this is the case he has probably been confused with Vaisramana.
Once upon a time there lived an old cobbler who worked hard at his trade from morning till night, and scarcely gave himself a moment to eat. But, industrious as he was, he could hardly buy bread and cheese for himself and his wife, and they grew thinner and thinner daily.For a long while whey pretended to each other that they had no appetite, and that a few blackberries from the hedges were a great deal nicer than a good strong bowl of soup. But at length there came a day when the cobbler could bear it no longer, and he threw away his last, and borrowing a rod from a neighbour he went out to fish.Now the cobbler was as patient about fishing as he had been about cobbling. From dawn to dark he stood on the banks of the little stream, without hooking anything better than an eel, or a few old shoes, that even he, clever though he was, felt were not worth mending. At length his patience began to give way, and as he undressed one night he said to himself: ‘Well, I will give it one more chance; and if I don’t catch a fish to-morrow, I will go and hang myself.’He had not cast his line for ten minutes the next morning before he drew from the river the most beautiful fish he had ever seen in his life. But he nearly fell into the water from surprise, when the fish began to speak to him, in a small, squeaky voice:‘Take me back to your hut and cook me; then cut me up, and sprinkle me over with pepper and salt. Give two of the pieces to your wife, and bury two more in the garden.’The cobbler did not know what to make of these strange words; but he was wiser than many people, and when he did not understand, he thought it was well to obey. His children wanted to eat all the fish themselves, and begged their father to tell them what to do with the pieces he had put aside; but the cobbler only laughed, and told them it was no business of theirs. And when they were safe in bed he stole out and buried the two pieces in the garden.By and by two babies, exactly alike, lay in a cradle, and in the garden were two tall plants, with two brilliant shields on the top.Years passed away, and the babies were almost men. They were tired of living quietly at home, being mistaken for each other by everybody they saw, and determined to set off in different directions, to seek adventures.So, one fine morning, the two brothers left the hut, and walked together to the place where the great road divided. There they embraced and parted, promising that if anything remarkable had happened to either, he would return to the cross roads and wait till his brother came.The youth who took the path that ran eastwards arrived presently at a large city, where he found everybody standing at the doors, wringing their hands and weeping bitterly.‘What is the matter?’ asked he, pausing and looking round. And a man replied, in a faltering voice, that each year a beautiful girl was chosen by lot to be offered up to a dreadful fiery dragon, who had a mother even worse than himself, and this year the lot had fallen on their peerless princess.‘But where IS the princess?’ said the young man once more, and again the man answered him: ‘She is standing under a tree, a mile away, waiting for the dragon.’This time the Knight of the Fish did not stop to hear more, but ran off as fast as he could, and found the princess bathed in tears, and trembling from head to foot.She turned as she heard the sound of his sword, and removed her handkerchief from his eyes.‘Fly,’ she cried; ‘fly while you have yet time, before that monster sees you.’She said it, and she mean it; yet, when he had turned his back, she felt more forsaken than before. But in reality it was not more than a few minutes before he came back, galloping furiously on a horse he had borrowed, and carrying a huge mirror across its neck.‘I am in time, then,’ he cried, dismounting very carefully, and placing the mirror against the trunk of a tree.‘Give me your veil,’ he said hastily to the princess. And when she had unwound it from her head he covered the mirror with it.‘The moment the dragon comes near you, you must tear off the veil,’ cried he; ‘and be sure you hide behind the mirror. Have no fear; I shall be at hand.’He and his horse had scarcely found shelter amongst some rocks, when the flap of the dragon’s wings could be plainly heard. He tossed his head with delight at the sight of her, and approached slowly to the place where she stood, a little in front of the mirror. Then, still looking the monster steadily in the face, she passed one hand behind her back and snatched off the veil, stepping swiftly behind the tree as she did so.The princess had not known, when she obeyed the orders of the Knight of the Fish, what she expected to happen. Would the dragon with snaky locks be turned to stone, she wondered, like the dragon in an old story her nurse had told her; or would some fiery spark dart from the heart of the mirror, and strike him dead? Neither of these things occurred, but, instead, the dragon stopped short with surprise and rage when he saw a monster before him as big and strong as himself. He shook his mane with rage and fury; the enemy in front did exactly the same. He lashed his tail, and rolled his red eyes, and the dragon opposite was no whit behind him. Opening his mouth to its very widest, he gave an awful roar; but the other dragon only roared back. This was too much, and with another roar which made the princess shake in her shoes, he flung himself upon his foe. In an instant the mirror lay at his feet broken into a thousand pieces, but as every piece reflected part of himself, the dragon thought that he too had been smashed into atoms.It was the moment for which the Knight of the Fish had watched and waited, and before the dragon could find out that he was not hurt at all, the young man’s lance was down his throat, and he was rolling, dead, on the grass.Oh! what shouts of joy rang through the great city, when the youth came riding back with the princess sitting behind him, and dragging the horrible monster by a cord. Everybody cried out that the king must give the victor the hand of the princess; and so he did, and no one had ever seen such balls and feasts and sports before. And when they were all over the young couple went to the palace prepared for them, which was so large that it was three miles round.The first wet day after their marriage the bridegroom begged the bride to show him all the rooms in the palace, and it was so big and took so long that the sun was shining brightly again before they stepped on to the roof to see the view.‘What castle is that out there,’ asked the knight; ‘it seems to be made of black marble?’‘It is called the castle of Albatroz,’ answered the princess. ‘It is enchanted, and no one that has tried to enter it has ever come back.’Her husband said nothing, and began to talk of something else; but the next morning he ordered his horse, took his spear, called his bloodhound, and set off for the castle.It needed a brave man to approach it, for it made your hair stand on end merely to look at it; it was as dark as the night of a storm, and as silent as the grave. But the Knight of the Fish knew no fear, and had never turned his back on an enemy; so he drew out his horn, and blew a blast.The sound awoke all the sleeping echoes in the castle, and was repeated now loudly, now softly; now near, and now far. But nobody stirred for all that.‘Is there anyone inside?’ cried the young man in his loudest voice; ‘anyone who will give a knight hospitality? Neither governor, nor squire, not even a page?’‘Not even a page!’ answered the echoes. But the young man did not heed them, and only struck a furious blow at the gate.Then a small grating opened, and there appeared the tip of a huge nose, which belonged to the ugliest old woman that ever was seen.‘What do you want?’ said she.‘To enter,’ he answered shortly. ‘Can I rest here this night? Yes or No?’‘No, No, No!’ repeated the echoes.Between the fierce sun and his anger at being kept waiting, the Knight of the Fish had grown so hot that he lifted his visor, and when the old woman saw how handsome he was, she began fumbling with the lock of the gate.‘Come in, come in,’ said she, ‘so fine a gentleman will do us no harm.’‘Harm!’ repeated the echoes, but again the young man paid no heed.‘Let us go in, ancient dame,’ but she interrupted him.‘You must call me the Lady Berberisca,’ she answered, sharply; ‘and this is my castle, to which I bid you welcome. You shall live here with me and be my husband.’ But at these words the knight let his spear fall, so surprised was he.‘I marry YOU? why you must be a hundred at least!’ cried he. ‘You are mad! All I desire is to inspect the castle and then go.’ As he spoke he heard the voices give a mocking laugh; but the old woman took no notice, and only bade the knight follow her.Old though she was, it seemed impossible to tire her. There was no room, however small, she did not lead him into, and each room was full of curious things he had never seen before.At length they came to a stone staircase, which was so dark that you could not see your hand if you held it up before your face.‘I have kept my most precious treasure till the last,’ said the old woman; ‘but let me go first, for the stairs are steep, and you might easily break your leg.’ So on she went, now and then calling back to the young man in the darkness. But he did not know that she had slipped aside into a recess, till suddenly he put his foot on a trap door which gave way under him, and he fell down, down, as many good knights had done before him, and his voice joined the echoes of theirs.‘So you would not marry me!’ chuckled the old witch. ‘Ha! ha! Ha! ha!’Meanwhile his brother had wandered far and wide, and at last he wandered back to the same great city where the other young knight had met with so many adventures. He noticed, with amazement, that as he walked through the streets the guards drew themselves up in line, and saluted him, and the drummers played the royal march; but he was still more bewildered when several servants in livery ran up to him and told him that the princess was sure something terrible had befallen him, and had made herself ill with weeping. At last it occurred to him that once more he had been taken for his brother. ‘I had better say nothing,’ thought he; ‘perhaps I shall be able to help him after all.’So he suffered himself to be borne in triumph to the palace, where the princess threw herself into his arms.‘And so you did go to the castle?’ she asked.‘Yes, of course I did,’ answered he.‘And what did you see there?’‘I am forbidden to tell you anything about it, until I have returned there once more,’ replied he.‘Must you really go back to that dreadful place?’ she asked wistfully. ‘You are the only man who has ever come back from it.’‘I must,’ was all he answered. And the princess, who was a wise woman, only said: ‘Well, go to bed now, for I am sure you must be very tired.’But the knight shook his head. ‘I have sworn never to lie in a bed as long as my work in the castle remains standing.’ And the princess again sighed, and was silent.Early next day the young man started for the castle, feeling sure that some terrible thing must have happened to his brother.At the blast of his horn the long nose of the old woman appeared at the grating, but the moment she caught sight of his face, she nearly fainted from fright, as she thought it was the ghost of the youth whose bones were lying in the dungeon of the castle.‘Lady of all the ages,’ cried the new comer, ‘did you not give hospitality to a young knight but a short time ago?’‘A short time ago!’ wailed the voices.‘And how have you ill-treated him?’ he went on.‘Ill-treated him!’ answered the voices. The woman did not stop to hear more; she turned to fly; but the knight’s sword entered her body.‘Where is my brother, cruel hag?’ asked he sternly.‘I will tell you,’ said she; ‘but as I feel that I am going to die I shall keep that piece of news to myself, till you have brought me to life again.’The young man laughed scornfully. ‘How do you propose that I should work that miracle?’‘Oh, it is quite easy. Go into the garden and gather the flowers of the everlasting plant and some of dragon’s blood. Crush them together and boil them in a large tub of water, and then put me into it.’The knight did as the old witch bade him, and, sure enough, she came out quite whole, but uglier than ever. She then told the young man what had become of his brother, and he went down into the dungeon, and brought up his body and the bodies of the other victims who lay there, and when they were all washed in the magic water their strength was restored to them.And, besides these, he found in another cavern the bodies of the girls who had been sacrificed to the dragon, and brought them back to life also.As to the old witch, in the end she died of rage at seeing her prey escape her; and at the moment she drew her last breath the castle of Albatroz fell into ruins with a great noise.
One hot night, in Hindustan, a king and queen lay awake in the palace in the midst of the city. Every now and then a faint air blew through the lattice, and they hoped they were going to sleep, but they never did. Presently they became more broad awake than ever at the sound of a howl outside the palace.‘Listen to that tiger !’ remarked the king.‘Tiger ?’ replied the queen. ‘How should there be a tiger inside the city ? It was only a jackal.’‘I tell you it was a tiger,’ said the king.‘And I tell you that you were dreaming if you thought it was anything but a jackal,’ answered the queen.‘I say it was a tiger,’ cried the king; ‘don’t contradict me.’‘Nonsense !’ snapped the queen. ‘It was a jackal.’ And the dispute waxed so warm that the king said at last:‘Very well, we’ll call the guard and ask; and if it was a jackal I’ll leave this kingdom to you and go away; and if it was a tiger then you shall go, and I will marry a new wife.’‘As you like,’ answered the queen; ‘there isn’t any doubt which it was.’So the king called the two soldiers who were on guard outside and put the question to them. But, whilst the dispute was going on, the king and queen had got so excited and talked so loud that the guards had heard nearly all they said, and one man observed to the other:‘Mind you declare that the king is right. It certainly was a jackal, but, if we say so, the king will probably not keep his word about going away, and we shall get into trouble, so we had better take his side.’To this the other agreed; therefore, when the king asked them what animal they had seen, both the guards said it was certainly a tiger, and that the king was right of course, as he always was. The king made no remark, but sent for a palanquin, and ordered the queen to be placed in it, bidding the four bearers of the palanquin to take her a long way off into the forest and there leave her. In spite of her tears, she was forced to obey, and away the bearers went for three days and three nights until they came to a dense wood. There they set down the palanquin with the queen in it, and started home again.Now the queen thought to herself that the king could not mean to send her away for good, and that as soon as he had got over his fit of temper be would summon her back; so she stayed quite still for a long time, listening with all her ears for approaching footsteps, but heard none. After a while she grew nervous, for she was all alone, and put her head out of the palanquin and looked about her. Day was just breaking, and birds and insects were beginning to stir; the leaves rustled in a warm breeze; but, although the queen’s eyes wandered in all directions, there was no sign of any human being. Then her spirit gave way, and she began to cry.It so happened that close to the spot where the queen’s palanquin had been set down, there dwelt a man who had a tiny farm in the midst of the forest, where he and his wife lived alone far from any neighbours. As it was hot weather the farmer had been sleeping on the flat roof of his house, but was awakened by the sound of weeping. He jumped up and ran downstairs as fast as he could, and into the forest towards the place the sound came from, and there he found the palanquin.‘Oh, poor soul that weeps,’ cried the farmer, standing a little way off, ‘who are you ?’ At this salutation from a stranger the queen grew silent, dreading she knew not what.‘Oh, you that weep,’ repeated the farmer, ‘fear not to speak to me, for you are to me as a daughter. Tell me, who are you ?’His voice was so kind that the queen gathered up her courage and spoke. And when she had told her story, the farmer called his wife, who led her to their house, and gave her food to eat, and a bed to lie on. And in the farm, a few days later, a little prince was born, and by his mother’s wish named Ameer Ali.Many a weary mile he tramped day after day, until, one morning, he saw before him just such a forest as that in which he had been born and bred, and he stepped joyfully into it, like one who goes to meet an old friend. Presently, as he made his way through a thicket, he saw a pigeon which he thought would make a good dinner, so he fired a pellet at it from his galail, but missed the pigeon, which fluttered away with a startled clatter. At the same instant he heard a great clamour from beyond the thicket, and, on reaching the spot, he found an ugly old woman streaming wet and crying loudly as she lifted from her head an earthen vessel with a hole in it from which the water was pouring. When she saw the prince with his galail in his hand, she called out:‘Oh, wretched one ! why must you choose an old woman like me to play your pranks upon ? Where am I to get a fresh pitcher instead of this one that you have broken with your foolish tricks ? And how am I to go so far for water twice when one journey wearies me ?’‘But, mother,’ replied the prince, ‘I played no trick upon you I did but shoot at a pigeon that should have served me for dinner, and as my pellet missed it, it must have broken your pitcher. But, in exchange, you shall have my brass pot, and that will not break easily; and as for getting water, tell me where to find it, and I’ll fetch it while you dry your garments in the sun, and carry it whither you will.’At this the old woman’s face brightened. She showed him where to seek the water, and when he returned a few minutes later with his pot filled to the brim, she led the way without a word, and he followed. In a short while they came to a hut in the forest, and as they drew near it Ameer Ali beheld in the doorway the loveliest damsel his eyes had ever looked on. At the sight of a stranger she drew her veil about her and stepped into the hut, and much as he wished to see her again Ameer Ali could think of no excuse by which to bring her back, and so, with a heavy heart, he made his salutation, and bade the old woman farewell. But when he had gone a little way she called after him:‘If ever you are in trouble or danger, come to where you now stand and cry: “Fairy of the forest ! Fairy of the forest, help me now !” And I will listen to you.’The prince thanked her and continued his journey, but he thought little of the old woman’s saying, and much of the lovely damsel. Shortly afterwards he arrived at a city; and, as he was now in great straits, having come to the end of his money, he walked straight to the palace of the king and asked for employment. The king said he had plenty of servants and wanted no more; but the young man pleaded so hard that at last the rajah was sorry for him, and promised that he should enter his bodyguard on the condition that he would undertake any service which was especially difficult or dangerous. This was just what Ameer Ali wanted, and he agreed to do whatever the king might wish.Soon after this, on a dark and stormy night, when the river roared beneath the palace walls, the sound of a woman weeping and wailing was heard above the storm. The king ordered a servant to go and see what was the matter; but the servant, falling on his knees in terror, begged that he might not be sent on such an errand, particularly on a night so wild, when evil spirits and witches were sure to be abroad. Indeed, so frightened was he, that the king, who was very kind-hearted, bade another to go in his stead, but each one showed the same strange fear. Then Ameer Ali stepped forward:‘This is my duty, your majesty,’ he said; ‘I will go.’The king nodded, and off he went. The night was as dark as pitch, and the wind blew furiously and drove the rain in sheets into his face; but he made his way down to the ford under the palace walls and stepped into the flooded water. Inch by inch, and foot by foot he fought his way across, now nearly swept off his feet by some sudden swirl or eddy, now narrowly escaping being caught in the branches of some floating tree that came tossing and swinging down the stream. At length he emerged, panting and dripping wet, on the other side. Close by the bank stood a gallows, and on the gallows hung the body of some evil-doer, whilst from the foot of it came the sound of sobbing that the king had heard.Ameer Ali was so grieved for the one who wept there that he thought nothing of the wildness of the night or of the roaring river. As for ghosts and witches, they had never troubled him, so he walked up towards the gallows where crouched the figure of the woman.‘What ails you ?’ he said.Now the woman was not really a woman at all, but a horrid kind of witch who really lived in Witchland, and had no business on earth. If ever a man strayed into Witchland the ogresses used to eat him up, and this old witch thought she would like to catch a man for supper, and that is why she had been sobbing and crying in hopes that someone out of pity might come to her rescue.So when Ameer Ali questioned her, she replied:‘Ah, kind sir, it is my poor son who hangs upon that gallows; help me to get him down and I will bless you for ever.’Ameer Ali thought that her voice sounded rather eager than sorrowful, and he suspected that she was not telling the truth, so he determined to be very cautious.‘That will be rather difficult,’ he said, ‘for the gallows is high, and we have no ladder.’‘Ah, but if you will just stoop down and let me climb upon your shoulders,’ answered the old witch, ‘I think I could reach him.’ And her voice now sounded so cruel that Ameer Ali was sure that she intended some evil. But he only said:‘Very well, we will try.’ With that he drew his sword, pretending that he needed it to lean upon, and bent so that the old woman could clamber on to his back, which she did very nimbly. Then, suddenly, he felt a noose slipped over his neck, and the old witch sprang from his shoulders on to the gallows, crying:‘Now, foolish one, I have got you, and will kill you for my supper.’But Ameer Ali gave a sweep upwards with his sharp sword to cut the rope that she had slipped round his neck, and not only cut the cord but cut also the old woman’s foot as it dangled above him; and with a yell of pain and anger she vanished into the darkness.Ameer Ali then sat down to collect himself a little, and felt upon the ground by his side an anklet that had evidently fallen off the old witch’s foot. This he put into his pocket, and as the storm had by this time passed over he made his way back to the palace. When he had finished his story, he took the anklet out of his pocket and handed it to the king, who, like everyone else, was amazed at the glory of the jewels which composed it. Indeed, Ameer Ali himself was astonished, for he bad slipped the anklet into his pocket in the dark and had not looked at it since. The king was delighted at its beauty, and having praised and rewarded Ameer Ali, he gave the anklet to his daughter, a proud and spoiled princess.Now in the women’s apartments in the palace there hung two cages, in one of which was a parrot and in the other a starling, and these two birds could talk as well as human beings. They were both pets of the princess who always fed them herself, and the next day, as she was walking grandly about with her treasure tied round her ankle, she heard the starling say to the parrot:‘Oh, Toté’ (that was the parrot’s name), ‘how do you think the princess looks in her new jewel ?’‘Think ?’ snapped the parrot, who was cross because they hadn’t given him his bath that morning, ‘I think she looks like a washerwoman’s daughter, with one shoe on and the other off ! Why doesn’t she wear two of them, instead of going about with one leg adorned and the other bare ?’When the princess heard this she burst into tears; and sending for her father she declared that he must get her another such an anklet to wear on the other leg, or she would die of shame. So the king sent for Ameer Ali and told him that he must get a second anklet exactly like the first within a month, or he should be hanged, for the princess would certainly die of disappointment.Poor Ameer Ali was greatly troubled at the king’s command, but he thought to himself that he had, at any rate, a month in which to lay his plans. He left the palace at once, and inquired of everyone where the finest jewels were to be got; but though he sought night and day he never found one to compare with the anklet. At last only a week remained, and he was in sore difficulty, when he remembered the Fairy of the forest, and determined to go without loss of time and seek her. Therefore away he went, and after a day’s travelling he reached the cottage in the forest, and, standing where he had stood when the old woman called to him, he cried:‘Fairy of the forest ! Fairy of the forest ! Help me ! help me !’Then there appeared in the doorway the beautiful girl he had seen before, whom in all his wanderings he had never forgotten.‘What is the matter ?’ she asked, in a voice so soft that he listened like one struck dumb, and she had to repeat the question before he could answer. Then he told her his story, and she went within the cottage and came back with two wands, and a pot of boiling water. The two wands she planted in the ground about six feet apart, and then, turning to him, she said:‘I am going to lie down between these two wands. You must then draw your sword and cut off my foot, and, as soon as you have done that, you must seize it and hold it over the cauldron, and every drop of blood that falls from it into the water will become a jewel. Next you must change the wands so that the one that stood at my head is at my feet, and the one at my feet stands at my head, and place the severed foot against the wound and it will heal, and I shall become quite well again as before.’At first Ameer Ali declared that he would sooner be hanged twenty times over than treat her so roughly; but at length she persuaded him to do her bidding. He nearly fainted himself with horror when he found that, after the cruel blow which lopped her foot off, she lay as one lifeless; but he held the severed foot over the cauldron, and, as drops of blood fell from it, and he saw each turn in the water into shining gems, his heart took courage. Very soon there were plenty of jewels in the cauldron, and he quickly changed the wands, placed the severed foot against the wound, and immediately the two parts became one as before. Then the maiden opened her eyes, sprang to her feet, and drawing her veil about her, ran into the hut, and would not come out or speak to him any more. For a long while he waited, but, as she did not appear, he gathered up the precious stones and returned to the palace. He easily got someone to set the jewels, and found that there were enough to make, not only one, but three rare and beautiful anklets, and these he duly presented to the king on the very day that his month of grace was over.The king embraced him warmly, and made him rich gifts; and the next day the vain princess put two anklets on each foot, and strutted up and down in them admiring herself in the mirrors that lined her room.‘Oh, Toté,’ asked the starling, ‘how do you think our princess looks now in these fine jewels ?’‘Ugh !’ growled the parrot, who was really always cross in the mornings, and never recovered his temper until after lunch, ‘she’s got all her beauty at one end of her now; if she had a few of those fine gew-gaws round her neck and wrists she would look better; but now, to my mind, she looks more than ever like the washer-woman’s daughter dressed up.’Poor princess ! she wept and stormed and raved until she made herself quite ill; and then she declared to her father that unless she had bracelets and necklace to match the anklets she would die.Again the king sent for Ameer Ali, and ordered, him to get a necklace and bracelets to match those anklets within a month, or be put to a cruel death.And again Ameer Ali spent nearly the whole month searching for the jewels, but all in vain. At length he made his way to the hut in the forest, and stood and cried:‘Fairy of the forest ! Fairy of the forest ! Help me ! help me !’Once more the beautiful maiden appeared at his summons and asked what he wanted, and when he had told her she said he must do exactly as he had done the first time, except that now he must cut off both her hands and her head. Her words turned Ameer Ali pale with horror; but she reminded him that no harm had come to her before, and at last he consented to do as she bade him. From her severed hands and head there fell into the cauldron bracelets and chains of rubies and diamonds, emeralds and pearls that surpassed any that ever were seen. Then the head and hands were joined on to the body, and left neither sign nor scar. Pull of gratitude, Ameer Ali tried to speak to her, but she ran into the house and would not come back, and he was forced to leave her and go away laden with the jewels.When, on the day appointed, Ameer Ali produced a necklace and bracelets each more beautiful and priceless than the last, the king’s astonishment knew no bounds, and as for his daughter she was nearly mad with joy. The very next morning she put on all her finery, and thought that now, at least, that disagreeable parrot could find no fault with her appearance, and she listened eagerly when she heard the starling say:‘Oh, Toté, how do you think our princess is looking now ?’‘Very fine, no doubt,’ grumbled the parrot; ‘but what is the use of dressing up like that for oneself only ? She ought to have a husband — why doesn’t she marry the man who got her all these splendid things ?’Then the princess sent for her father and told him that she wished to marry Ameer Ali.‘My dear child,’ said her father, ‘you really are very difficult to please, and want something new every day. It certainly is time you married someone, and if you choose this man, of course he shall marry you.’So the king sent for Ameer Ali, and told him that within a month he proposed to do him the honour of marrying him to the princess, and making him heir to the throne.On hearing this speech Ameer Ali bowed low and answered that he had done and would do the king all the service that lay in his power, save only this one thing. The king, who considered his daughter’s hand a prize for any man, flew into a passion, and the princess was more furious still. Ameer Ali was instantly thrown into the most dismal prison that they could find, and ordered to be kept there until the king had time to think in what way he should be put to death.Meanwhile the king determined that the princess ought in any case to be married without delay, so he sent forth heralds throughout the neighbouring countries, proclaiming that on a certain day any person fitted for a bridegroom and heir to the throne should present himself at the palace.When the day came, all the court were gathered together, and a great crowd assembled of men, young and old, who thought that they had as good a chance as anyone else to gain both the throne and the princess. As soon as the king was seated, he called upon an usher to summon the first claimant. But, just then, a farmer, who stood in front of the crowd, cried out that he had a petition to offer.Well, hasten then,’ said the king; ‘I have no time to waste.’‘Your majesty,’ said the farmer, ‘has now lived and administered justice long in this city, and will know that the tiger who is king of beasts hunts only in the forest, whilst jackals hunt in every place where there is something to be picked up.’‘What is all this ? what is all this ?’ asked the king. ‘The man must be mad !’‘No, your majesty,’ answered the farmer; ‘I would only remind your majesty that there are plenty of jackals gathered to-day to try and claim your daughter and kingdom: every city has sent them, and they wait hungry and eager; but do not, O king, mistake or pretend again to mistake the howl of a jackal for the hunting cry of a tiger.’The king turned first red and then pale.‘There is,’ continued the farmer, ‘a royal tiger bred in the forest who has the first and only true claim to your throne.’‘Where ? what do you mean ?’ stammered the king, growing pale as he listened.‘In prison,’ replied the farmer; ‘if your majesty will clear this court of the jackals I will explain.’‘Clear the court!’ commanded the king; and, very unwillingly, the visitors left the palace.‘Now tell me what riddle this is,’ said he.Then the farmer told the king and his ministers how he had rescued the queen and brought up Ameer Ali; and he fetched the old queen herself, whom he had left outside. At the sight of her the king was filled with shame and self-reproach, and wished he could have lived his life over again, and not have married the mother of the proud princess, who caused him endless trouble until her death.‘My day is past,’ said he. And he gave up his crown to his son Ameer Ali, who went once more and called to the forest fairy to provide him with a queen to share his throne.‘There is only one person I will marry,’ said he. And this time the maiden did not run away, but agreed to be his wife. So the two were married without delay, and lived long and reigned happily.As for the old woman whose pitcher Ameer Ali had broken, she was the forest maiden’s fairy godmother, and when she was no longer needed to look after the girl she gladly returned to fairyland.The old king has never been heard to contradict his wife any more. If he even looks as if he does not agree with her, she smiles at him and says:‘Is it the tiger, then ? or the jackal ?’ And be has not another word to say.
Magbangal was a good hunter, and he often went to a certain hill where he killed wild pigs for food. One night as it was nearing the planting season, he sat in his house thinking, and after a long time he called to his wife. She came to him, and he said:“Tomorrow I shall go to the hill and clear the land for our planting, but I wish you to stay here.”“Oh, let me go with you,” begged his wife, “for you have no other companion.”“No,” said Magbangal, “I wish to go alone, and you must stay at home.”So finally his wife agreed, and in the morning she arose early to prepare food for him. When the rice was cooked and the fish ready she called him to come and eat, but he said:“No, I do not want to eat now, but I will return this afternoon and you must have it ready for me.”Then he gathered up his ten hatchets and bolos, a sharpening stone, and a bamboo tube for water, and started for the hill. Upon reaching his land he cut some small trees to make a bench. When it was finished, he sat down on it and said to the bolos, “You bolos must sharpen yourselves on the stone.” And the bolos went to the stone and were sharpened. Then to the hatchets he said, “You hatchets must be sharpened,” and they also sharpened themselves.When all were ready, he said: “Now you bolos cut all the small brush under the trees, and you hatchets must cut the large trees.” So the bolos and the hatchets went to work, and from his place on the bench Magbangal could see the land being cleared.Magbangal’s wife was at work in their house weaving a skirt, but when she heard the trees continually falling she stopped to listen and thought to herself, “My husband must have found many people to help him clear our land. When he left here, he was alone, but surely he cannot cut down the trees so fast. I will see who is helping him.”She left the house and walked rapidly toward the field, but as she drew nearer she proceeded more slowly, and finally stopped behind a tree. From her hiding-place, she could see her husband asleep on the bench, and she could also see that the bolos and hatchets were cutting the trees with no hands to guide them.“Oh,” said she, “Magbangal is very powerful. Never before have I seen bolos and hatchets working without hands, and he never told me of his power.”Suddenly she saw her husband jump up, and, seizing a bolo, he cut off one of his own arms. He awoke and sat up and said:“Someone must be looking at me, for one of my arms is cut off.”When he saw his wife he knew that she was the cause of his losing his arm, and as they went home together, he exclaimed:“Now I am going away. It is better for me to go to the sky where I can give the sign to the people when it is time to plant; and you must go to the water and become a fish.”Soon after he went to the sky and became the constellation Magbangal; and ever since, when the people see these stars appear in the sky, they know that it is time to plant their rice.
When ‘Ndarake was King of Idu, being young and rich, he was very fond of fine girls, and had plenty of slaves. The ‘Nsiat bird was then living at Idu, and had a very pretty daughter, whom ‘Ndarake wished to marry. When he spoke to the father about the matter, he replied that of course he had no objection personally, as it would be a great honour for his daughter to marry the king, but, unfortunately, when any of his family had children, they always gave birth to twins, which, as the king knew, was not allowed in the country; the native custom being to kill both the children and throw them into the bush, the mother being driven away and allowed to starve. The king, however, being greatly struck with Adit, the bird’s daughter, insisted on marrying her, so the ‘Nsiat bird had to agree. A large amount of dowry was paid by the king, and a big play and feast was held. One strong slave was told to carry Adit ‘Nsiat during the whole play, and she sat on his shoulders with her legs around his neck; this was done to show what a rich and powerful man the king was.After the marriage, in due course Adit gave birth to twins, as her mother had done before her. The king immediately became very fond of the two babies, but according to the native custom, which was too strong for any one to resist, he had to give them up to be killed. When the ‘Nsiat bird heard this, he went to the king and reminded him that he had warned the king before he married what would happen if he married Adit, and rather than that the twins should be killed, he and the whole of his family would leave the earth and dwell in the air, taking the twins with them. As the king was so fond of Adit and the two children, and did not want them to be killed, he gladly consented, and the ‘Nsiat bird took the whole of his family, as well as Adit and her two children, away, and left the earth to live and make their home in the trees; but as they had formerly lived in the town with all the people, they did not like to go into the forest, so they made their nests in the trees which grew in the town, and that is why you always see the ‘Nsiat birds living and making their nests only in places where human beings are. The black birds are the cocks, and the golden-coloured ones are the hens. It was the beautiful colour of Adit which first attracted the attention of ‘Ndarake and caused him to marry her.
O-way-way-ham-by-yoh, which means long time ago, old man Dried-Up-Corn had two daughters named White Corn and Blue Corn. Mr. and Mrs. Dried-Up-Corn sent their daughters out into the garden one afternoon to pick peas for supper.When the two Corn maidens went outside they found some grasshoppers dancing and singing all around the garden. But when the grasshoppers saw White Corn and Blue Corn they started to hop away.“Oh do not go away, Grasshoppers. If you will dance and sing some more for us, we will give you a row of peas.”So the grasshoppers began to sing and dance again:“We are bow-legged.Our faces are as hard as can be;But whatever else may be,They are alike on both sides; you see.Fee-de-qui quah, quah.The Corn maidens laughed and clapped their hands. When the grasshoppers stopped singing and ate up their row of peas, White Corn begged: “Oh please dance and sing again and we will give you another row of peas.”So the grasshoppers kept dancing and singing until the girls had given them all the peas. Then the grasshoppers hopped away and White Corn and Blue Corn went back into the house without any peas for supper.What do you think happened to White Corn and Blue Corn then? They were spanked and put to bed without any supper. Which was quite the proper thing, don’t you think?Note: San Juan Pueblo
The wood-tick’s drum convokes the elves at the noon of night on Cro’ Nest top, and, clambering out of their flower-cup beds and hammocks of cobweb, they fly to the meeting, not to freak about the grass or banquet at the mushroom table, but to hear sentence passed on the fay who, forgetting his vestal vow, has loved an earthly maid. From his throne under a canopy of tulip petals, borne on pillars of shell, the king commands silence, and with severe eye but softened voice he tells the culprit that while he has scorned the royal decree he has saved himself from the extreme penalty, of imprisonment in walnut shells and cobweb dungeons, by loving a maid who is gentle and pure. So it shall be enough if he will go down to the Hudson and seize a drop from the bow of mist that a sturgeon leaves when he makes his leap; and after, to kindle his darkened flame-wood lamp at a meteor spark. The fairy bows, and without a word slowly descends the rocky steep, for his wing is soiled and has lost its power; but once at the river, he tugs amain at a mussel shell till he has it afloat; then, leaping in, he paddles out with a strong grass blade till he comes to the spot where the sturgeon swims, though the watersprites plague him and toss his boat, and the fish and the leeches bunt and drag; but, suddenly, the sturgeon shoots from the water, and ere the arch of mist that he tracks through the air has vanished, the sprite has caught a drop of the spray in a tiny blossom, and in this he washes clean his wings.The water-goblins torment him no longer. They push his boat to the shore, where, alighting, he kisses his hand, then, even as a bubble, he flies back to the mountain top, dons his acorn helmet, his corselet of bee-hide, his shield of lady-bug shell, and grasping his lance, tipped with wasp sting, he bestrides his fire-fly steed and off he goes like a flash. The world spreads out and then grows small, but he flies straight on. The ice-ghosts leer from the topmost clouds, and the mists surge round, but he shakes his lance and pipes his call, and at last he comes to the Milky Way, where the sky-sylphs lead him to their queen, who lies couched in a palace ceiled with stars, its dome held up by northern lights and the curtains made of the morning’s flush. Her mantle is twilight purple, tied with threads of gold from the eastern dawn, and her face is as fair as the silver moon.She begs the fay to stay with her and taste forever the joys of heaven, but the knightly elf keeps down the beating of his heart, for he remembers a face on earth that is fairer than hers, and he begs to go. With a sigh she fits him a car of cloud, with the fire-fly steed chained on behind, and he hurries away to the northern sky whence the meteor comes, with roar and whirl, and as it passes it bursts to flame. He lights his lamp at a glowing spark, then wheels away to the fairy-land. His king and his brothers hail him stoutly, with song and shout, and feast and dance, and the revel is kept till the eastern sky has a ruddy streak. Then the cock crows shrill and the fays are gone.
In a village in Hindustan there once lived a merchant who, although he rose early, worked hard, and rested late, remained very poor; and ill-luck so dogged him that he determined at last to go to some distant country and there to try his fortune. Twelve years passed by; his luck had turned, and now he had gathered great wealth, so that having plenty to keep him in comfort for the rest of his days, he thought once more of his native village, where he desired to spend the remainder of his life among his own people. In order to carry his riches with him in safety over the many weary miles that lay between him and his home, he bought some magnificent jewels, which he locked up in a little box and wore concealed upon his person; and, so as not to draw the attention of the thieves who infested the highways and made their living by robbing travellers, he started off in the poor clothes of a man who has nothing to lose.Thus prepared, he travelled quickly, and within a few days’ journey from his own village came to a city where he determined to buy better garments and — now that he was no longer afraid of thieves — to look more like the rich man he had become. In his new raiment he approached the city, and near the great gate he found a bazaar where, amongst many shops filled with costly silks, and carpets, and goods of all countries, was one finer than all the rest. There, amidst his goods, spread out to the best advantage, sat the owner smoking a long silver pipe, and thither the merchant bent his steps, and, saluting the owner politely, sat down also and began to make some purchases. Now, the proprietor of the shop, Beeka Mull by name, was a very shrewd man, and as he and the merchant conversed, he soon felt sure that his customer was richer than he seemed, and was trying to conceal the fact. Certain purchases having been made, he invited the new-corner to refresh himself, and in a short time they were chatting pleasantly together. In the course of the conversation Beeka Mull asked the merchant whither he was travelling, and hearing the name of the village, he observed:‘Ah, you had better be careful on that road — it’s a very bad place for thieves.’The merchant turned pale at these words. It would be such a bitter thing, he thought, just at the end of his journey to be robbed of all the fortune he had heaped up with such care. But this bland and prosperous Beeka Mull must surely know best, so presently he said:‘Lala-ji,’ * could you oblige me by locking up for me a small box for a short while ? When once I get to my village I could bring back half-a-dozen sturdy men of my own kinsfolk and claim it again.’The Lala shook his head. ‘I could not do it,’ replied he. ‘I am sorry; but such things are not my business. I should be afraid to undertake it.’‘But,’ pleaded the merchant, ‘I know no one in this city, and you must surely have some place where you keep your own precious things. Do this, I pray you, as a great favour.’Still Beeka Mull politely but firmly refused; but the merchant, feeling that he had now betrayed the fact that he was richer than he seemed, and being loth to make more people aware of it by inquiring elsewhere, continued to press him, until at last he consented. The merchant produced the little box of jewels, and Beeka Mull locked it up for him in a strong chest with other precious stones; and so, with many promises and compliments, they parted.In a place like an Eastern bazaar, where the shops lie with wide open fronts, and with their goods displayed not only within but without on terraces and verandahs raised a few feet above the public roadway, such a long talk as that between Beeka Mull and the merchant could not but attract some attention from the other shop-keepers in the narrow street. If the merchant had but known it, nearly every shop-owner in that district was a thief, and the cleverest and biggest of all was Beeka Mull. But he did not know it, only he could not help feeling a little uneasy at having thus parted with all his wealth to a stranger. And so, as he wandered down the street, making a purchase here and there, he managed in one way and another to ask some questions about the honesty of Beeka Mull, and each rascal whom he spoke to, knowing that there was some good reason in the question, and hoping to get in return some share of the spoils, replied in praise of Beeka Mull as a model of all the virtues.In this way the merchant’s fears were stilled, and, with a comparatively light heart, he travelled on to his village; and within a week or so returned to the city with half-a-dozen sturdy young nephews and friends whom he had enlisted to help him carry home his precious box.At the great market-place in the centre of the city the merchant left his friends, saying that he would go and get the box of jewels and rejoin them, to which they consented, and away he went. Arrived at the shop of Beeka Mull, he went up and saluted him.‘Good-day, Lala-ji,’ said he. But the Lala pretended not to see him. So he repeated the salutation. ‘What do you want ?’ snapped Beeka Mull; ‘you’ve said your “good-day” twice, why don’t you tell me your business ?’‘Don’t you remember me?’ asked the merchant.‘Remember you ?’ growled the other; ‘no, why should I ? I have plenty to do to remember good customers without trying to remember every beggar who comes whining for charity.’When he heard this the merchant began to tremble.‘Lala-ji !’ he cried, ‘surely you remember me and the little box I gave you to take care of ? And you promised — yes, indeed, you promised very kindly — that I might return to claim it, and ——‘‘You scoundrel,’ roared Beeka Mull, ‘get out of my shop ! Be off with you, you impudent scamp ! Every one knows that I never keep treasures for anyone; I have trouble enough to do to keep my own ! Come, off with you !’ With that he began to push the merchant out of the shop; and, when the poor man resisted, two of the bystanders came to Beeka Mull’s help, and flung the merchant out into the road, like a bale of goods dropped from a camel. Slowly he picked himself up out of the dust, bruised, battered, and bleeding, but feeling nothing of the pain in his body, nothing but a dreadful numbing sensation that, after all, he was ruined and lost ! Slowly he dragged himself a little further from where the fat and furious Beeka Mull still stood amongst his disordered silks and carpets, and coming to a friendly wall he crouched and leant against it, and putting his head into his hands gave himself up to an agony of misery and despair.There he sat motionless, like one turned to stone, whilst darkness fell around him; and when, about eleven o’clock that night, a certain gay young fellow named Kooshy Ram passed by with a friend, he saw the merchant sitting hunched against the wall, and remarked: ‘A thief, no doubt.’ ‘You are wrong,’ returned the other, ‘thieves don’t sit in full view of people like that, even at night.’ And so the two passed on, and thought no more of him. About five o’clock next morning Kooshy Earn was returning home again, when, to his astonishment, he saw the miserable merchant still sitting as he had seen him sit hours before. Surely something must be the matter with a man who sat all night in the open street, and Koosby Ram resolved to see what it was; so he went up and shook the merchant gently by the shoulder. ‘Who are you ?’ asked he –‘ and what are you doing here — are you ill ?’‘Ill ?’ said the merchant in a hollow voice, ‘yes; ill with a sickness for which there is no medicine.’‘Oh, nonsense! ‘cried Kooshy Ram. ‘Come along with me, I know a medicine that will cure you, I think.’ So the young man seized the merchant by the arm, and hoisting him to his feet, dragged him to his own lodging; where he first of all gave him a large glass of wine, and then, after he had refreshed him with food, bade him tell his adventures.Meanwhile the merchant’s companions in the marketplace, being dull-witted persons, thought that as he did not return he must have gone home by himself; and as soon as they were tired of waiting they went back to their village and left him to look after his own affairs. He would therefore have fared badly had it not been for his rescuer, Kooshy Ram, who, whilst still a boy, had been left a great deal of money with no one to advise him how to spend it. He was high-spirited, kind-hearted, and shrewd into the bargain; but he threw away his money like water, and generally upon the nearest thing or person in his way, and that, alas ! most often was himself ! Now, however, he had taken it into his head to befriend this miserable merchant, and he meant to do it; and on his side the merchant felt confidence revive, and without further ado told all that had happened.Kooshy Ram laughed heartily at the idea of any stranger entrusting his wealth to Beeka Mull.‘Why, he is the greatest rascal in the city,’ he cried, ‘unless you believe what some of them say of me ! Well, there is nothing to be done for the present, but just to stay here quietly, and I think that at the end of a short time I shall find a medicine which will heal your sickness.’ At this the merchant again took courage, and a little ease crept into his heart as he gratefully accepted his new friend’s invitation.A few days later Kooshy Ram sent for some friends to see him, and talked with them long, and, although the merchant did not hear the conversation, he did hear shouts of laughter as though at some good joke; but the laughter echoed dully in his own heart, for the more he considered the more he despaired of ever recovering his fortune from the grasp of Beeka Mull.One day, soon after this, Kooshy Ram came to him and said:‘You remember the wall where I found you that night, near Beeka Mull’s shop ?’‘Yes, indeed I do,’ answered the merchant.‘Well,’ continued Kooshy Ram, ‘this afternoon you must go and stand in that same spot and watch; and when someone gives you a signal, you must go up to Beeka Mull and salute him and say, “Oh, Lala-ji, will you kindly let me have back that box of mine which you have on trust ?” ‘‘What’s the use of that ?’ asked the merchant. ‘He won’t do it any more now than he would when I asked him before.’‘Never mind!’ replied Kooshy Ram, ‘do exactly what I tell you, and repeat exactly what I say, word for word, and I will answer for the rest.’So, that afternoon, the merchant at a certain time went and stood by the wall as he was told. He noticed that Beeka Mull saw him, but neither took any heed of the other. Presently up the bazaar came a gorgeous palanquin like those in which ladies of rank are carried about. It was borne by four bearers well dressed in rich liveries, and its curtains and trappings were truly magnificent. In attendance was a grave-looking personage whom the merchant recognised as one of the friends who visited Kooshy Ram; and behind him came a servant with a box covered with a cloth upon his head.The palanquin was borne along at a smart pace and was set down at Beeka Mull’s shop. The fat shop-keeper was on his feet at once, and bowed deeply as the gentleman in attendance advanced.‘May I inquire,’ he said, ‘who this is in the palanquin that deigns to favour my humble shop with a visit ? And what may I do for her ?’The gentleman, after whispering at the curtain of the palanquin, explained that this was a relative of his who was travelling, but as her husband could go no further with her, she desired to leave with Beeka Mull a box of jewels for safe custody. Lala bowed again to the ground. ‘It was not,’ he said, ‘ quite in his way of business; but of course, if he could please the lady, he would be most happy, and would guard the box with his life.’ Then the servant carrying the box was called up; the box was unlocked, and a mass of jewellery laid open to the gaze of the enraptured Lala, whose mouth watered as he turned over the rich gems.All this the merchant had watched from the distance, and now he saw — could he be mistaken ? — no, he distinctly saw a hand beckoning through the curtain on that side of the palanquin away from the shop. ‘The signal ! Was this the signal ?’ thought he. The hand beckoned again, impatiently it seemed to him. So forward he went, very quietly, and saluting Beeka Mull, who was sitting turning over the contents of this amazing box of jewels which fortune and some fools were putting into his care, he said:‘Oh, Lala-ji, will you kindly let me have back that box of mine which you have on trust ?’The Lala looked up as though he had been stung; but quickly the thought flashed through his mind that if this man began making a fuss again he would lose the confidence of these new and richer customers; so he controlled himself, and answered:‘Dear me, of course, yes ! I had forgotten all about it.’ And he went off and brought the little box and put it into the merchant’s trembling hands. Quickly the latter pulled out the key, which hung by a string round his neck, and opened the box; and when he saw that his treasures were all there he rushed into the road, and, with the box under his arm, began dancing like a madman, with great shouts and screams of laughter. Just then a messenger came running up and, saluting the gentleman attending the palanquin, he said:‘The lady’s husband has returned, and is prepared to travel with her, so that there is no necessity to deposit the jewels.’ Whereat the gentleman quickly closed and re-locked the box, and handed it back to the waiting servant. Then from the palanquin came a yell of laughter, and out jumped — not a lady — but Kooshy Ram, who immediately ran and joined the merchant in the middle of the road and danced as madly as he. Beeka Mull stood and stared stupidly at them; then, with a shrill cackle of laughter, he flung off his turban, bounced out into the road with the other two, and fell to dancing and snapping his fingers until he was out of breath.‘Lala-ji,’ said the gentleman who had played the part of the relative attendant on the palanquin, ‘why do you dance ? The merchant dances because he has recovered his fortune; Kooshy Ram dances because he is a madman and has tricked you; but why do you dance ?’‘I dance,’ panted Beeka Ram, glaring at him with a bloodshot eye, ‘I dance because I knew thirteen different ways of deceiving people by pretending confidence in them. I didn’t know there were any more, and now here’s a fourteenth ! That’s why I dance !’* ‘Lala’ is a complimentary title: ‘ji’ a polite affix; the expression is somewhat equivalent to ‘Dear Sir.’
At the time when the animals reigned in the earth, they had killed all the people but a girl and her little brother, and these two were living in fear, in an out-of-the-way place. The boy was a perfect little pigmy, and never grew beyond the size of a mere infant; but the girl increased with her years, so that the task of providing food and shelter fell wholly upon her. She went out daily to get wood for the lodge-fire, and she took her little brother with her that no mishap might befall him; for he was too little to leave alone. A big bird, of a mischievous disposition, might have flown away with him. She made him a bow and arrows, and said to him one day, “My little brother, I will leave you behind where I have been gathering the wood; you must hide yourself, and you will soon see the snow-birds come and pick the worms out of the logs which I have piled up. Shoot one of them and bring it home.”“The biggest of them all was Bosh-kwa-dosh, the Mastodon.” Illustration by John Rae. Published in American Indian Fairy Tales by Anonymous. 1921. P. F. Volland CompanyHe obeyed her, and tried his best to kill one, but he came home unsuccessful. His sister told him that he must not despair, but try again the next day.She accordingly left him at the gathering-place of the wood, and returned to the lodge. Toward night-fall she heard his little footsteps crackling through the snow, and he hurried in and threw down, with an air of triumph, one of the birds which he had killed. “My sister,” said he, “I wish you to skin it, and stretch the skin, and when I have killed more, I will have a coat made out of them.”“But what shall we do with the body?” said she; for they had always up to that time lived upon greens and berries.“Cut it in two,” he answered, “and season our pottage with one half of it at a time.”It was their first dish of game, and they relished it greatly.The boy kept on in his efforts, and in the course of time he killed ten birds—out of the skins of which his sister made him a little coat: being very small, he had a very pretty coat, and a bird skin to spare.“Sister,” said he, one day, as he paraded up and down before the lodge, enjoying his new coat, and fancifying himself the greatest little fellow in the world—as he was, for there was no other beside him—”My sister, are we really alone in the world, or are we playing at it? Is there nobody else living? And, tell me, was all this great broad earth and this huge big sky made for a little boy and girl like you and me?”She told him, by no means; there were many folks very unlike a harmless girl and boy, such as they were, who lived in a certain other quarter of the earth, who had killed off all of their kinsfolk; and that if he would live blameless and not endanger his life, he must never go where they were. This only served to inflame the boy’s curiosity; and he soon after took his bow and arrows and went in that direction. After walking a long time and meeting no one, he became tired, and stretched himself upon a high green knoll where the day’s warmth had melted off the snow.It was a charming place to lie upon, and he fell asleep; and, while sleeping, the sun beat so hot upon him that it not only singed his bird-skin coat, but it so shrivelled and shrunk and tightened it upon the little boy’s body, as to wake him up.When he felt how the sun had seared and the mischief its fiery beams had played with the coat he was so proud of, he flew into a great passion, and berated the sun in a terrible way for a little boy no higher than a man’s knee, and he vowed fearful things against it.“Do not think you are too high,” said he; “I shall revenge myself. Oh, sun! I will have you for a plaything yet.”On coming home he gave an account of his misfortune to his sister, and bitterly bewailed the spoiling of his new coat. He would not eat—not so much as a single berry. He lay down as one that fasts; nor did he move nor change his manner of lying for ten full days, though his sister strove to prevail on him to rise. At the end of ten days he turned over, and then he lay full ten days on the other side.When he got up he was very pale, but very resolute too. He bade his sister make a snare, for, he informed her, that he meant to catch the sun. She said she had nothing; but after awhile she brought forward a deer’s sinew which the father had left, and which she soon made into a string suitable for a noose. The moment she showed it to him he was quite wroth, and told her that would not do, and directed her to find something else. She said she had nothing—nothing at all. At last she thought of the bird-skin that was left over when the coat was made; and this she wrought into a string. With this the little boy was more vexed than before. “The sun has had enough of my bird-skins,” he said; “find something else.” She went out of the lodge saying to herself, “Was there ever so obstinate a boy?” She did not dare to answer this time that she had nothing. Luckily she thought of her own beautiful hair, and pulling some of it from among her locks, she quickly braided it into a cord, and, returning, she handed it to her brother. The moment his eye fell upon this jet black braid he was delighted. “This will do,” he said; and he immediately began to run it back and forth through his hands as swiftly as he could; and as he drew it forth, he tried its strength. He said again, “this will do;” and winding it in a glossy coil about his shoulders, he set out a little after midnight. His object was to catch the sun before he rose. He fixed his snare firmly on a spot just where the sun must strike the land as it rose above the earth; and sure enough, he caught the sun, so that it was held fast in the cord and did not rise.The animals who ruled the earth were immediately put into great commotion. They had no light; and they ran to and fro, calling out to each other, and inquiring what had happened. They summoned a council to debate upon the matter, and an old dormouse, suspecting where the trouble lay, proposed that some one should be appointed to go and cut the cord. This was a bold thing to undertake, as the rays of the sun could not fail to burn whoever should venture so near to them.At last the venerable dormouse himself undertook it, for the very good reason that no one else would. At this time the dormouse was the largest animal in the world. When he stood up he looked like a mountain. It made haste to the place where the sun lay ensnared, and as it came nearer and nearer, its back began to smoke and burn with the heat, and the whole top of his huge bulk was turned in a very short time to enormous heaps of ashes. It succeeded, however, in cutting the cord with its teeth and freeing the sun, which rolled up again, as round and beautiful as ever, into the wide blue sky. But the dormouse—or blind woman as it is called—was shrunk away to a very small size; and that is the reason why it is now one of the tiniest creatures upon the earth.The little boy returned home when he discovered that the sun had escaped his snare, and devoted himself entirely to hunting. “If the beautiful hair of my sister would not hold the sun fast, nothing in the world could,” he said. “He was not born, a little fellow like himself, to look after the sun. It required one greater and wiser than he was to regulate that.” And he went out and shot ten more snow-birds; for in this business he was very expert; and he had a new bird-skin coat made, which was prettier than the one he had worn before.
Somewhere off the northern coast of Mindanao a strong current begins to travel northward. It runs to the island of Siquijor and then, turning slightly to the east, goes racing between the islands of Cebu and Negros. At the narrow entrance between San Sebastian and Ayucatan it breaks up into hundreds of small whirlpools that make the water hiss and bubble for a distance of nearly three miles.For steamers and large boats there is not the slightest danger, but to the native in his little sacayan with its bamboo outriggers these whirlpools are objects of dread and fear. He will go miles out of his way to escape them. If you inquire as to the reason, he will explain that the Liloan, or whirlpool, is a thing always to be avoided, and then he will tell you the story of Sinogo.Years and years ago, when Maguayan ruled the sea and the terrible Captan launched his thunderbolts from above, the water and air were filled with swimming and flying monsters. Those that lived in the air were armed with great teeth and sharp claws; but, though they were fierce and savage, they lived together in peace, for they feared the anger of their master Captan.In the sea, however, all was not so peaceful, for some of the monsters were so huge and savage and so confident in their strength that Maguayan could do nothing with them. He lived in constant fear of attack from these fierce subjects and finally, in despair, called on Captan to help him in his trouble.Accordingly Captan sent his swift messengers to every part of the earth, air, and sea, and ordered that a council of all the creatures in the world should be held. He named the little island of Caueli in the center of the Sulu Sea as the meeting place, and commanded all to hasten there without delay.Soon the members of the council began to arrive, and the sky was darkened by flying monsters, and the water boiled as the terrible reptiles of the sea rushed to the place appointed.In a short time the little island was crowded with these dreadful creatures. There were huge Buayas from Mindanao, fierce Tic-bolans from Luzon, savage Sigbins from Negros and Bohol, hundreds of Unglocs from Panay and Leyte, and great Uak Uaks and other frightful monsters from Samar and Cebu. They grouped themselves in a large circle around a golden throne on which sat Captan and Maguayan, and while waiting the commands of their master filled the air with shrieks and howls.At length Captan raised his hand and the noise instantly stopped. Then he announced his decree. He said that Maguayan was his brother god and should be treated with the same respect. He commanded all his subjects to obey the god of the sea and told them that he would kill with a thunderbolt any that disobeyed this order. Then he desired all to return to their own regions, and again the air was filled with a noise of thunder and the sea roared and foamed as the monsters went back to their homes.Soon there remained on the island only Captan, Maguayan, and three messengers of Captan, who were called Sinogo, Dalagan, and Guidala. These were giants in size and had large wings which enabled them to fly with great swiftness. They had long spears and sharp swords and were very brave and powerful. Of the three, Dalagan was the swiftest, Guidala the bravest, and Sinogo the handsomest and best loved by Captan.When all the creatures were gone Maguayan thanked Captan, but the great god said that he had only done his duty in helping his brother. Then he gave Maguayan a little golden shell and explained to him its wonderful power. Maguayan had but to put it in his mouth and he could change his form to that of any creature he pleased. In case a monster, defying Captan’s orders, should attack him, he had simply to change himself into a stronger monster of twice the size of his enemy, and then fight and kill him easily.Again Maguayan thanked his brother god and, taking the shell, placed it on the throne beside him. Then Captan ordered his messengers to bring food and drink, and soon the two gods were feasting merrily.Now it happened that Sinogo had been standing behind the throne and had heard all that had been said. He was filled with a desire to own the wonderful shell, and in spite of the many favors he had received from Captan he resolved to steal it. The more he thought of its great power, the more he longed for it. With it he could rule the earth and sea as a god, and, by hiding, he might avoid the anger of Captan. So he watched for an opportunity to make away with it. Finally his chance came. While handing Maguayan some food, he slyly caught up the shell, and soon afterwards quietly slipped away.For some time his absence was not discovered, but all at once Captan called for his favorite messenger and, receiving no reply, ordered Dalagan to search for him. Soon Dalagan returned and reported that Sinogo could not be found on the island. At the same time Maguayan noticed that the golden shell was gone.Then Captan knew that his messenger had stolen the shell and escaped. He flew into a great rage and swore he would kill Sinogo. He ordered Dalagan and Guidala to hasten to the north in search of the faithless messenger and to bring him back a prisoner.Swiftly northward over the blue sea flew the messengers, and near the island of Guimaras caught sight of Sinogo. He saw his pursuers and flew all the swifter, but he was no match for them in speed. Nearer and nearer they came and then, drawing their swords, rushed forward to seize him.But Sinogo was not to be easily caught. Quick as a flash, he placed the shell in his mouth and dived down into the water, at the same time changing himself into a huge crocodile-shaped Buaya with scales like armor of steel.In vain Dalagan and Guidala rained blows on the monster. The swords could not pierce the heavy scales.Up through Guimaras Strait the chase went on, and Sinogo tore up the water in his flight. So great was the disturbance of the ocean that, as they rounded the northern coast of Negros, the waves dashed completely over the little island of Bacabac, sweeping away the hills and bringing the land to the level of the sea.Still the rapid flight went on. Straight for Bantayan headed Sinogo, but suddenly changing his course he dashed into the narrow channel between Negros and Cebu. Then Dalagan, leaving Guidala to continue the chase alone, flew swiftly back to Caueli and told Captan that Sinogo was in the little strait. Up sprang the god and, flying directly east, he posted himself at the southern entrance of the channel. In his hand he held an enormous thunderbolt, and thus armed he waited for the appearance of Sinogo.Down into the narrow entrance sped the faithless messenger, tearing up the water in his mad flight, while the brave Guidala struck in vain at his huge body. Suddenly a roar of thunder sounded and the thunderbolt fell on the back of the monster, bearing him down beneath the waves and then, stiffening like a bar of iron, pinning him to the bottom far below. In vain he struggled to free himself; the bar held him fast and sure. In his struggles the shell fell from his mouth, but a little Tamban caught it and brought it safely to Captan.Thousands of years have passed, but far under the water, like a fly on a pin, Sinogo struggles in the form of a huge Buaya. The water bubbles around him and for three miles little whirlpools go racing up the channel. And the native in his little sacayan avoids the narrow entrance where the water boils and foams, for Sinogo still twists and squirms, and the Liloan is a thing to be feared and dreaded.
Old Byamee said to his two young wives, Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee, “I have stuck a white feather between the hind legs of a bee, and am going to let it go and then follow it to its nest, that I may get honey. While I go for the honey, go you two out and get frogs and yams, then meet me at Coorigel Spring, where we will camp, for sweet and clear is the water there.” The wives, taking their goolays and yam sticks, went out as he told them. Having gone far, and dug out many yams and frogs, they were tired when they reached Coorigel, and, seeing the cool, fresh water, they longed to bathe. But first they built a bough shade, and there left their goolays holding their food, and the yams and frogs they had found. When their camp was ready for the coming of Byamee, who having wooed his wives with a nullah-nullah, kept them obedient by fear of the same weapon, then went the girls to the spring to bathe. Gladly they plunged in, having first divested them selves of their goomillahs, which they were still young enough to wear, and which they left on the ground near the spring. Scarcely were they enjoying the cool rest the water gave their hot, tired limbs, when they were seized and swallowed by two kurreahs. Having swallowed the girls, the kurreahs dived into an opening in the side of the spring, which was the entrance to an underground watercourse leading to the Narran River. Through this passage they went, taking all the water from the spring with them into the Narran, whose course they also dried as they went along.Meantime Byamee, unwitting the fate of his wives, was honey hunting. He had followed the bee with the white feather on it for some distance; then the bee flew on to some budtha flowers, and would move no further. Byamee said, “Something has happened, or the bee would not stay here and refuse to be moved on towards its nest. I must go to Coorigel Spring and see if my wives are safe. Something terrible has surely happened.” And Byamee turned in haste towards the spring. When he reached there he saw the bough shed his wives had made, he saw the yams they had dug from the ground, and he saw the frogs, but Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee he saw not. He called aloud for them. But no answer. He went towards the spring; on the edge of it he saw the goomillahs of his wives. He looked into the spring and, seeing it dry, he said, “It is the work of the kurreahs; they have opened the underground passage and gone with my wives to the river, and opening the passage has dried the spring. Well do I know where the passage joins the Narran, and there will I swiftly go.” Arming himself with spears and woggarahs he started in pursuit. He soon reached the deep hole where the underground channel of the Coorigel joined the Narran. There he saw what he had never seen before, namely, this deep hole dry. And he said: “They have emptied the holes as they went along, taking the water with them. But well know I the deep holes of the river. I will not follow the bend, thus trebling the distance I have to go, but I will cut across from big hole to big hole, and by so doing I may yet get ahead of the kurreahs.” On swiftly sped Byamee, making short cuts from big hole to big hole, and his track is still marked by the morilla ridges that stretch down the Narran, pointing in towards the deep holes. Every hole as he came to it he found dry, until at last he reached the end of the Narran; the hole there was still quite wet and muddy, then he knew he was near his enemies, and soon he saw them. He managed to get, unseen, a little way ahead of the kurreahs. He hid himself behind a big dheal tree. As the kurreahs came near they separated, one turning to go in another direction. Quickly Byamee hurled one spear after another, wounding both kurreahs, who writhed with pain and lashed their tails furiously, making great hollows in the ground, which the water they had brought with them quickly filled. Thinking they might again escape him, Byamee drove them from the water with his spears, and then, at close quarters, he killed them with his woggarahs. And ever afterwards at flood time, the Narran flowed into this hollow which the kurreahs in their writhings had made.When Byamee saw that the kurreahs were quite dead, he cut them open and took out the bodies of his wives. They were covered with wet slime, and seemed quite lifeless; but he carried them and laid them on two nests of red ants. Then he sat down at some little distance and watched them. The ants quickly covered the bodies, cleaned them rapidly of the wet slime, and soon Byamee noticed the muscles of the girls twitching. “Ah,” he said, “there is life, they feel the sting of the ants.”Almost as he spoke came a sound as of a thunder-clap, but the sound seemed to come from the ears of the girls. And as the echo was dying away, slowly the girls rose to their feet. For a moment they stood apart, a dazed expression on their faces. Then they clung together, shaking as if stricken with a deadly fear. But Byamee came to them and explained how they had been rescued from the kurreahs by him. He bade them to beware of ever bathing in the deep holes of the Narran, lest such holes be the haunt of kurreahs.Then he bade them look at the water now at Boogira, and he said:“Soon will the black swans find their way here, the pelicans and the ducks; where there was dry land and stones in the past, in the future there will be water and water-fowl, from henceforth; when the Narran runs it will run into this hole, and by the spreading of its waters will a big lake be made.” And what Byamee said has come to pass, as the Narran Lake shows, with its large sheet of water, spreading for miles, the home of thousands of wild fowl.
A great drought had fallen on Long Island, and the red men prayed for water. It is true that they could get it at Lake Ronkonkoma, but some of them were many miles from there, and, beside, they feared the spirits at that place: the girl who plied its waters in a phosphor-shining birch, seeking her recreant lover; and the powerful guardians that the Great Spirit had put in charge to keep the fish from being caught, for these fish were the souls of men, awaiting deliverance into another form. The people gathered about their villages in bands and besought the Great Spirit to give them drink. His voice was heard at last, bidding their chief to shoot an arrow into the air and to watch where it fell, for there would water gush out. The chief obeyed the deity, and as the arrow touched the earth a spring of sweet water spouted into the air. Running forward with glad cries the red men drank eagerly of the liquor, laved their faces in it, and were made strong again; and in memory of that event they called the place the Hill of God, or Manitou Hill, and Manet or Manetta Hill it is to this day. Hereabouts the Indians settled and lived in peace, thriving under the smile of their deity, making wampum for the inland tribes and waxing rich with gains from it. They made the canal from bay to sea at Canoe Place, that they might reach open water without dragging their boats across the sand-bars, and in other ways they proved themselves ingenious and strong.When the English landed on the island they saw that the Indians were not a people to be trifled with, and in order to properly impress them with their superiority, they told them that John Bull desired a treaty with them. The officers got them to sit in line in front of a cannon, the nature of which instrument was unknown to them, and during the talk the gun was fired, mowing down so many of the red people that the survivors took to flight, leaving the English masters at the north shore, for this heartless and needless massacre took place at Whale’s Neck. So angry was the Great Spirit at this act of cruelty and treachery that he caused blood to ooze from the soil, as he had made water leap for his thirsting children, and never again would grass grow on the spot where the murder had been done.
A shepherdess in Borohrady had an only son whose name was Yanechek, but that one son was more trouble to her than ten daughters would have been to any other mother. Yanechek was in truth a very mischievous boy. There was not one of his playmates, girl or boy, upon whom he had not practised some trick; and not a woman in Borohrady who had not complained of his pranks to his mother, the widow Dorothy.“Gossip Dorothy,” cried Mistress Betusche, “your Yanechek fastened my door on the outside last night, and I had to call to my neighbours for half a day before I could get out.”“Shepherdess Dorothy,” said the magistrate one day in the village market-place, “if I catch Yanechek in my pigeon-house again I will send him to prison.”“My dear Dorothy,” complained Mistress Anichka, “last night, at twelve o’clock, Yanechek frightened us dreadfully.”And thus it was day after day: “Gossip Dorothy, Shepherdess Dorothy, My dear Dorothy,” and day after day Dorothy shed tears over her troubles.“Why don’t you correct the boy?” suggested the shepherdess’s brother.But Dorothy was afraid to whip her mischievous son, because that would make him cry; and the boy, knowing his mother’s weakness, did as he pleased without fear. In his mischief he did not consider his mother’s feelings in the least. He would chase the goats up the steepest rocks, while his mother, Dorothy, standing at the bottom, would scream, “Come down, Yanechek!” at the top of her voice, her heart ready to break with fear. But Yanechek would climb to the very top, then seize the thin branches of a bush with his right hand and bend his whole body forward, so that it appeared as if he were suspended in the air, or upon the point of falling down to cut himself to pieces on the sharp rocks beneath. At this sight his poor mother Dorothy would be seized with a fainting fit, and crying, “Heaven help me!” would fall senseless to the ground. Then, as the poor shepherdess began to recover from her swoon, the wicked Yanechek would hold her in his arms, crying,—“Open your eyes, mother! open your eyes!”And as soon as his mother opened her eyes, Yanechek would jump up, turn round on his heel, and clapping his hands together would cry joyfully,—“Mother is alive again! Mother is alive again!”And the shepherdess, instead of taking a cane to chastise her mischievous son, would simply say,—“How you frightened me, you naughty boy!”And this reproof seemed to her a sufficient punishment for her dear son.But the wicked boy caused the greatest anxiety to his mother Dorothy when he went to bathe in the large pool. There was no part of that pool, deep as it was, where Yanechek did not dive to the bottom. On warm days he would splash about in the smooth water, turn somersaults, and leap and gambol like a playful carp. Or he would climb up the willow trees growing on the bank of the pool, and from the highest and thinnest branches he would spring headlong into the cool, deep water.“Yanechek! Yanechek!” his mother often cried, “don’t bathe in the pool. You will fall into the Water Demon’s net some day.”“I don’t care for the Water Demon,” the boy would answer laughing. Then he would run into the forest and gather a cap full of strawberries or a basket of mushrooms for his mother. For Dorothy was very fond of strawberries with milk, and of stewed mushrooms, and so long as she had these dainties on her table she never punished Yanechek, and he might run and bathe in the pool as often as he liked.One day, when the dainty shepherdess had some mushrooms for dinner, Yanechek went to the pool, ran up the steep bank and plunged into the calm water. He began to gambol about, dive, and then rising again stuck his legs up in the air. All at once he raised up his head, stretched out his arms and screamed for help as if in the agonies of death. The labourers in the field, hearing his cries ran to his assistance. They seized him by the hair of the head and drew him to land. There the wretched boy lay lifeless; he neither moved nor breathed. The peasants laid him on his stomach, so that the water might run from him more freely, and not knowing what next to do, some ran for the shepherdess and some for the doctor.Shepherdess Dorothy had just begun to eat her stewed mushrooms when the country people brought her the sad news that her son was drowned. Horror-stricken, she dropped the wooden spoon, and pale and with her hair hanging loose, rushed towards the pool to her poor boy Yanechek. But the miserable boy was nowhere to be found: in vain they sought for his body among the bushes, in the fields, and in the water. When the evening came, Dorothy, her eyes red with crying and her dress in disorder, returned to her hut with the neighbours who came to comfort her. Although the mischievous conduct of Yanechek had dug a deep gulf between her and the people about her, yet the grief of the mother built a bridge over it, and they came to comfort the bereaved widow. No sooner had they entered the hut than they were seized with terror, and rushed out of the door again, screaming, “A ghost! a ghost!”Yanechek sat at the table at which a lamp was burning, and where a dish full of stewed red mushrooms was steaming. He was eating and evidently enjoying the savoury dish.“You wicked boy!” exclaimed Dorothy, both surprised at the sight of her unexpected visitor and vexed at the rapid disappearance of her favourite delicacy; “is it right to treat your mother in this way?”“Are you vexed, mother,” cried Yanechek laughing at her, “that I have been eating mushrooms?”Then he jumped upon the table, lay down, and putting his hands under his chin, made faces at her.“The Water Demon take you!” cried the shepherdess, her cheeks turning red, really angry for the first time in her life with Yanechek. But the next instant her face grew deadly pale again, for through the window came the words,—“It shall be so! It shall be so!”The widow Dorothy, horrified at the sound, turned towards the window and saw a white face outside looking at her with a fiendish smile on its lips. Yanechek jumped down from the table, seized his mother’s stick, and ran with it out of the hut. In the darkness of the evening he could just make out some person fleeting away. He raised the stick and threw it after the figure; but the stick fell to the ground only a little way before him, and from a distance came a burst of malicious laughter mingled with which came the words distinctly uttered,—“It shall be so! It shall be so!”It was a summer day. The sun shone warmly on fields and gardens, on rivulets and lakes. On the bank of the still pool, Yanechek, the mischievous son of Dorothy the shepherdess, danced about joyfully. He whistled aloud and undressed himself that he might make a plunge into the cool water. On the surface of the water there floated a bunch of most beautiful flowers, so beautiful that it was difficult to tell whether they were really flowers or a cluster of precious stones. The flowers seemed to smile upon Yanechek, and to say to him, “Come and take us, we will gladden your heart until your life’s end.” Thus the flowers enticed him to take them. But the boy was as cunning as a fox, and cried out,—“You must get yourself another bait, Mr. Water Demon. You have prepared your nosegay in vain this time, you stupid Water Demon. I will stick the flowers in my hat without wetting my foot-soles.”Thus said Yanechek, and having broken off a long branch from the nearest willow tree, he bent over the water as he tried to draw the flowers to the bank. But as he bent forward with the long rod the beautiful flowers floated a little farther from the bank, and Yanechek, growing angry and impatient to reach them, went step by step slowly into the cool water as he followed the flowers. They tempted him so much that he did not notice that he had already reached the middle of the pool. Now, however, he could reach the flowers with the long rod, and he drew them towards him that he might seize them with his hand. As he grasped them he entangled his hand in a fine net which the Water Demon had spread round the flowers; and the more he tried to draw the prize towards him, the more the net pulled him towards the bottom of the pool. At last Yanechek let go the flowers, but he could not disentangle himself from the net, for what the Water Demon has once seized he does not easily let go. Then Yanechek began to scream with all his might for help,—“Help, good people, help! The Water Demon is drowning me!”But the people working in the fields, although they heard his cries, turned a deaf ear to his entreaties. They said angrily,—“And let him drown you, you wicked boy!”The miserable, struggling Yanechek was dragged deeper and deeper. At last he was overwhelmed by the water, and on the top of it there appeared a little man in a green dress, who called out to the people in the fields, whilst a diabolical smile played upon his face,—“It shall be so! It shall be so!”Shepherdess Dorothy waited for her son Yanechek that whole day and night in vain. Early next morning, as she ran round the bank of the pool in search of her mischievous but much-loved son, she saw his hat, waistcoat, and shirt lying on the ground, and thus learnt with intense grief how it was she had waited in vain so long. She would have thrown herself into the cold, still water after him in her despair, if her neighbours had not prevented her. Weeping bitterly the poor widow collected the remains of the dress of her unhappy boy, and by degrees the love of the mother’s heart gave her courage instead of despair, and desire of revenge instead of vain lamentation. For nine days she plaited a rope out of nine pieces of bast, and with this strongly-woven cord she hid herself among some bushes near the pool to wait for the Water Demon.“If I stay here three times seven days my body will become as thin as a shadow, and the wicked Water Demon will not see his enemy.”Speaking thus to herself, Dorothy took courage and waited three times seven days, and her body dried up and became as thin as a shadow; her mother’s love alone kept her alive, for that love was her only food and her only comfort.Nine times in a year the Water Demon leaves his palace built under the water, to walk upon the warm earth and see whom he may entice to his cold bed. Then he listens to the curses of the wicked and the profane words of the ungodly. Only once each time can he make his choice of an innocent man sacrificed to him by the immutable decrees of Fate. The Water Demon walks on the earth in a green dress-coat, and every time the eye of a human being glances at him the water drops from his left coat-tail. This time also, as Dorothy still watched among the bushes on the bank of the pool—and she waited there more than three times seven days—the Water Demon came out of the water in a green dress-coat. The heart of the shepherdess began to beat more quickly and her hands to shake as the Water Demon made the first step on the dry land, where his power ceases. She came out softly from among the bushes, and like a mere shadow walked in the footsteps of the evil Water Demon. As she followed in his track she made a running knot in the rope of nine times plaited bast, and cast it round the leg of the Water Demon just as he was about to leap over a field ditch. Having fastened the rope round his leg she tore off his left coat-tail, and the Water Demon, deprived of his power, struggled like an obstinate ram, and neighed like a wild horse. Dorothy dragged the Water Demon by the rope to her hut, carefully avoiding the least puddles, lest he should touch even the smallest drop of water. Arrived at her hut, Dorothy fastened the wicked spirit near the oven by a strong knot, then put in some dry faggots, lit them, and the oven soon became as hot as the summer sun at mid-day. Then the Water Demon began to wail piteously, and Dorothy approaching him set on to sing,—“Oh, Water Demon! Water Demon! Give me back my son, give me back my Yanechek!”But the Water Demon paid no attention to her words, but ground his teeth at her with rage. When, however, the woman kept on adding fuel to the fire and still continued her song, the Evil Spirit, dried up by the heat, lost his strength and youthful appearance, and became like a withered old man. With this change into a man a hundred years old, came also upon him the pains and infirmities of age, and sighing for his liberty he at last told Dorothy how she could again see her son Yanechek, and could release him from the water palace. Upon this she promised to let the Water Demon free, and full of hope, started on her way.Searching for her son the mother came to the bank of the pool, and there, carrying out the instructions of the Water Demon, she repeated the following words,—“Mother Well! Mother Well! Listen to what the master says: open thy waters to the bottom!”As soon as she had uttered these words the waters opened, and there appeared before her stairs leading down into the depths of the pool. These stairs Dorothy courageously descended, while the crystal waters grew up higher and higher as she went down. Gradually the stairs and the passage became narrower, so that the withered form of the widow could only pass through with difficulty. At last her farther progress was stopped by a large, green frog. Then Dorothy, remembering the instructions of the Water Demon, said these words,—“Oh, Frog! Frog! Hear what the master says, open a passage for me!”As soon as she had said this the mouth of the frog opened like a large gate, its body changed into pillars like bright emeralds, and above them shone the eyes of the frog like two suns. Through this gate the widow entered a large and lofty hall; larger and loftier than any church she had ever seen. The walls were spread all over with sparkling glass, and all around were bright shining places, as if of pure silver, where there was an incredible number of holes filled with little silver jars; so many were there that the simple shepherdess could never have counted them. The hall was beautiful indeed, but it was cold and full of terrors. Suppressed cries of pain and agonising sighs came from the little jars under which the Water Demon kept the lost souls of the drowned imprisoned. A frightful prison for the unhappy spirits: they moaned and sobbed in despair, as if laden with heavy and grievous sins. Full of both fear and hope, Dorothy began to knock at the little jars with her bent finger.“Are you here, my son Yanechek?” she asked in a trembling voice.“I am Veit, condemned to everlasting torments here for having sought relief from a bad wife by death in the water. Another woman won my love.”“Are you here, my son Yanechek?”“I am called Voyteh. I cheated the orphan children committed to my charge: I could not longer endure the reproaches of my conscience, and drowned myself from despair.”“Are you here, my son Yanechek?” asked the widow as she went on. She would receive answers to her questions, and then would follow sighs and groans terrible to hear. The poor woman’s heart grew more and more anxious and sad.Thus poor Dorothy the shepherdess continued to knock at the silver jars, one after the other, for nine times nine days, because the wicked Water Demon had not clearly explained to her where to seek for Yanechek. At last, almost worn out with fatigue, she cast a timid glance at the last two jars. “Are you here, my son Yanechek?” she asked, her voice sinking to a whisper; and she touched the shelf with her finger, fully expecting to receive an evil answer. No sooner had she done so than there came a sound from one of the little jars as when an empty vessel is struck. It broke loudly and harshly on the ears of the shepherdess, for the sound was like a human voice, and it seemed to say, “Yanechek is not here; but here is a place prepared for a mother who rears a wicked son.” As the sound seemed to form itself into these words a dreadful fear seized the soul of the shepherdess, and her senses began to fail her. Low, suppressed cries of pain moaned in her ears, mingled with fiendish laughter; innumerable silver jars whirled round and round before her eyes, and the sighs and the laughter seemed to come from the silver jars, and to say to her,—“Yanechek is not here; but here is a place prepared for you!”Then the great hall itself began to turn round and round about Dorothy, and she felt as if she should faint away. In the midst of her distress and sense of sickness she fancied she could hear sighs of pain from the last little jar. They seemed like the cries of her lost Yanechek when at home feigning illness. “Oh, help, mother, help!” These words came indeed from the last little jar, and the sound of them revived the poor mother again. She recognised her son with her soul; she quickly lifted up the jar, and Yanechek sprang out of his narrow prison.“May you stick fast in a swamp, you slow mother!” cried the liberated son.But the mother, doting on her wicked boy, did not hear the cruel words. She looked with intense commiseration on his thin face, his sunken eyes, his pale lips and bony hands, and covered his emaciated body with kisses.“What did you eat here, my poor boy?”“Despair was my food.”“What did you drink here, my poor boy?”“Despair was my drink.”To every question Dorothy put to him, his answer was “Despair.” And the mother’s heart was again troubled, and a new fear seized her lest despair should come over her son again. Then she took her boy in her arms and carried him out of the Water Demon’s hall. She passed through the frog’s gate, up the narrow stairs between the crystal walls, to the top of the lake, and never stopped till she reached the green bank. On the green bank she laid her dear burden—laid her Yanechek—on the soft grass, sat down by the dear boy, stroked his face and said sweet words to him. But the wicked Yanechek lay there with a gloomy scowling face, never answering his mother, and turning his eyes constantly on the ground. But when Dorothy began to tell him how she had plaited a nine-fold rope of bast for the Water Demon, how she had watched for him, how she had caught and fastened him near the oven, the face of Yanechek gained more colour than through the fresh air, and his eyes sparkled more brightly than from the soft, sweet kisses of his mother.“And is the Water Demon still fastened to the oven?” demanded Yanechek, springing to his feet.“Yes,” answered his mother. “The Water Demon cannot break the nine-fold bast rope, nor can he untie the knot.”“Have you the sharp axe still at home?” again asked Yanechek.“Yes; but what do you want with it?”“I don’t want it; but the Water Demon must have a cut with it behind his ear.”“Heaven preserve you from such a deed! I have promised the Water Demon his freedom.”“You have promised him that!” cried Yanechek. “You silly mother! you have promised him his freedom that he may catch me again, and you too, perhaps. No! no! this fiend shall never go back to his cold hall; you may carry him there without his head.”Having thus spoken, Yanechek ran along the bank of the pool towards his mother’s hut. The shepherdess could with difficulty keep up with him. She followed him, panting for breath, and unable as she felt herself to be to prevent her son from carrying out his purpose, fresh anxiety filled her heart for his own safety. Yanechek was still her dearest treasure, for him she would have done anything. As soon as they reached the hut, Yanechek seized the sharp-edged axe, too sharp and too heavy for his wasted body, and ran with it into the room where the Water Demon was still fastened to the oven.“Now, you evil thing,” cried Yanechek, as thirsting for revenge he raised the axe in the air; “have you got some flowers for me that I may make you a funeral garland?”“Bow! bow!” barked the Water Demon, changing immediately into a black shaggy dog, and showing his teeth.The wicked boy grew furious with rage, the widow was terrified for her son and screamed, “Strike the monster dead!” Yanechek took aim and threw the axe at the dog. But the Water Demon had sharp eyes, and sprang aside, and the axe fell on the nine-fold bast rope and cut it in two. The dog, freed from his strong fetters, flew past Yanechek on to the oaken table where stood the shepherdess’s water-jug. The water in this jug, during all the time of Dorothy’s absence, as she sat watching among the bushes, and when she was tapping at the silver jars, had not quite dried up. There was still one drop of water at the bottom. On this drop the dog set his paw, and in an instant his former young and vigorous form returned. Then he overturned the jug, and that single drop of water became a strong flood, like a summer torrent among the mountains, and quickly filled the room with its fast flowing waters. In those waters the wicked Yanechek and his weak-minded, indulgent mother were drowned. Full of terror and despair, both mother and son called loudly for help as the water rose and bubbled up to their very throats. The Water Demon, a fiendish smile upon his lips, walked on the top of the rolling waves and stretched out his icy-cold hands to Dorothy and Yanechek. As soon as he had caught hold of them he dived with them into the deep, took them to his cold hall, and there imprisoned the two unhappy souls each under a narrow jar.For many years afterwards a dark, deep pool was to be seen on the spot where the shepherdess Dorothy’s hut once stood, and the people living near would tell travellers the story of the unhappy mother and of her son Yanechek.
The cock once said to the hen, “It is now the time when the nuts are ripe, so let us go to the hill together and for once eat our fill before the squirrel takes them all away.”“Yes,” replied the hen, “come, we will have some pleasure together.” Then they went away to the hill, and as it was a bright day they stayed till evening. Now I do not know whether it was that they had eaten till they were too fat, or whether they had become proud, but they would not go home on foot, and the cock had to build a little carriage of nut-shells.When it was ready, the little hen seated herself in it and said to the cock, “You can just harness yourself.”“I like that!” said the cock, “I would rather go home on foot than let myself be harnessed to it; no, that is not our bargain. I do not mind being coachman and sitting on the box, but drag it myself I will not.”As they were thus disputing, a duck quacked to them, “You thieving folks, who bade you go to my nut-hill? Wait, you shall suffer for it!” and ran with open beak at the cock. But the cock also was not idle, and fell boldly on the duck, and at last wounded her so with his spurs that she begged for mercy, and willingly let herself be harnessed to the carriage as a punishment.The little cock now seated himself on the box and was coachman, and thereupon they went off in a gallop, with “Duck, go as fast as you can.” When they had driven a part of the way they met two foot-passengers, a pin and a needle. They cried, “Stop! stop!” and said that it would soon be as dark as pitch, and then they could not go a step further, and that it was so dirty on the road, and asked if they could not get into the carriage for a while.They had been at the tailor’s public- house by the gate, and had stayed too long over the beer. As they were thin people, who did not take up much room, the cock let them both get in, but they had to promise him and his little hen not to step on their feet. Late in the evening they came to an inn, and as they did not like to go further by night, and as the duck also was not strong on her feet, and fell from one side to the other, they went in.The host at first made many objections, his house was already full, besides he thought they could not be very distinguished persons; but at last, as they made pleasant speeches, and told him that he should have the egg which the little hen had laid on the way, and should likewise keep the duck, which laid one every day, he at length said that they might stay the night. And now they had themselves well served, and feasted and rioted. Early in the morning, when day was breaking, and every one was asleep, the cock awoke the hen, brought the egg, pecked it open, and they ate it together, but they threw the shell on the hearth. Then they went to the needle which was still asleep, took it by the head and stuck it into the cushion of the landlord’s chair, and put the pin in his towel, and at last without more ado they flew away over the heath.The duck who liked to sleep in the open air and had stayed in the yard, heard them going away, made herself merry and found a stream, down which she swam, which was a much quicker way of travelling than being harnessed to a carriage. The host did not get out of bed for two hours after this; he washed himself and wanted to dry himself, then the pin went over his face and made a red streak from one ear to the other. After this he went into the kitchen and wanted to light a pipe, but when he came to the hearth the egg-shell darted into his eyes.“This morning everything attacks my head,” said he, and angrily sat down on his grandfather’s chair, but he quickly started up again and cried, “Woe is me,” for the needle had pricked him still worse than the pin, and not in the head. Now he was thoroughly angry, and suspected the guests who had come so late the night before, and when he went and looked about for them, they were gone. Then he made a vow to take no more ragamuffins into his house, for they consume much, pay for nothing, and play mischievous tricks into the bargain by way of gratitude.
Dyjhicon was a poor unfortunate fellow who had only two goats and a cow. His wife was an ambitious woman, and annoyed him by her frequent demands.“I want you to go out and work,” she often said. “I want you to build a new house, I want to buy myself some new dresses, oxen and sheep, a horse and wagon.”Dyjhicon, tiring of her endless complaints and scoldings, one day took his great stick and drove the cow out of the house, saying to himself:“Let me run from this wicked wife to the wilderness and there die.”This was what the woman wanted. Thus he ran from her and wandered in the wilderness. When he was hungry he milked the cow and drank the milk, and when he was tired he mounted the cow. He was very timid,—a typical coward. The sight of a running rat was enough to make him tremble.“Eh!” he thought, nevertheless, “it is better to be torn by wild beasts than to become the slave of a wicked woman.”One day, as the cow was pasturing on a green meadow and Dyjhicon was lying down lazily, the flies stung him. He cursed his wife and clapped his hands to kill the flies. Then he counted to see how many flies he had killed at one stroke, and lo! they were seven in number. This encouraged him, and he took his knife and carved upon his stick these words:“I am Dyjhicon; I have killed seven by one stroke of the hand.”Then he got astride the cow and rode away. After a long journey he came to a green meadow in the center of which there was a magnificent castle with an orchard around it. He let the cow graze in the meadow and he lay down to sleep. Seven brothers lived in that castle. One of them, seeing Dyjhicon and his cow in the meadow came to find who it was that had ventured to enter their ground. Dyjhicon was sleeping, with his stick standing near him. The man approached and, reading the inscription, was terrified.“What a hero!” he thought to himself, “he has killed seven men by one stroke of the hand. He must be a brave man, else he would not dare to sleep here so carelessly. What courage! what boldness! he has come so far without arms, without a horse, without a companion. This man is surely a great hero.”He went and informed his brothers as to what he had seen; and all the seven brothers came to pay their respects to the unknown hero, and to invite him to their humble home. The cow, being frightened by their approach, began to leap and bellow. Her voice wakened Dyjhicon, who, seeing seven men standing before him, was terrified, and snatching his club, stood aside trembling. The seven brothers thought that he was angry with them, and was trembling on account of his wrath, and that he would kill all of them by one stroke of his stick. Thereupon they began to supplicate him to pardon their rudeness in disturbing his repose. Then they invited him to go with them, saying:“We are seven brothers and have a great reputation as good fighters in this district. But we shall be entirely invincible, if you will join us and become our elder brother. We will take great pleasure in placing our house and all that belongs to us at the service of such a hero as yourself.”Hearing this, Dyjhicon ceased trembling, and said:“Very well, let it be as you say.”They took him to the castle with great pomp and served to him a grand banquet, at which all the seven brothers stood before him, folding their arms upon their breasts and awaiting his permission to sit. Dyjhicon was in great alarm, his heart was faint and he had fallen into meditation as to the manner in which he might free himself from this perplexing situation. The seven brothers thought that he was not only a very brave hero, but was also such a great sage, that he did not care even to look at their faces. They began to cough in a low voice to draw his attention. On account of his internal fear Dyjhicon suddenly shook his head. The seven brothers took this as a permission to sit. After the banquet they said to him:“My lord, where have you left your horse, arms and servants? Will you command us to go and bring them?”“Horse and arms are necessary for timid men,” said Dyjhicon; “I have never had need of them. I use horse and arms only when I fight a great battle. As to servants, I never need them; all men are my servants. You see, I have come so far having only a cow and my stick. Dyjhicon is my name; I have killed seven by one stroke of the hand.”Their esteem and admiration for Dyjhicon increased every day, and at last they were so much fascinated by his alleged bravery that they gave him in marriage their only sister, who was a very beautiful maiden. Dyjhicon knew that he was unworthy, but he could not refuse this gift.“Eh!” he said, “I will do you the favor of marrying her since you entreat me so earnestly.”They brought costly garments, and putting them on Dyjhicon, made him a handsome bridegroom. They had a splendid wedding festival which was reported in all neighboring countries. The four princes of the neighboring countries had asked the hand of the maiden in marriage, and all of them had been refused. Now hearing that the maiden was given in marriage to a stranger, the four princes waged war against the seven brothers. Dyjhicon, hearing this, was stricken with fear, and longed that the earth might open its mouth and swallow him. He thought to run away, but there were no means of escaping. While he indulged in these sad meditations, the seven brothers came, and bowing down before him, said:“What is your order, my lord? Will you go fight yourself, or will you have us go first?”This caused Dyjhicon’s heart to melt. He began to tremble in his whole body, and to strike his teeth one against another. The seven brothers thought that it was because of his violent rage, and that in his fury he would destroy whole armies.“My lord,” they said, finally, “let us seven brothers go fight them at first, and if we find them hard to conquer we will send you word, that you may come to our assistance.”“Well, well; do so,” answered Dyjhicon, somewhat relieved.They went and began the battle. Their neighboring peoples were in constant terror of the seven brothers, who were famous as brave fighters. Now that they had also a brother-in-law who could kill seven men by one stroke of the hand, their foes were the more afraid of them. But this time the men of the four princes were united, and they fought with unusual zeal and determination. This caused the seven brothers to retreat a little, and they sent to brother Dyjhicon, saying:“We are in trouble; come to our assistance.”A fast horse and magnificent arms awaited him. He began to curse the day when he came to that house. But what could he do now? At last he decided to go to the battle-field, cast himself against the swords of the enemy and die; death was preferable to such a disgraceful life. As soon as he mounted the horse, the beast who knew that the rider was inexperienced, ran away like a winged eagle. Dyjhicon could not stop or manage it. The seven brothers thought he was so brave that he left the horse free in order to reach and slaughter the enemy. The horse broke into the line of the enemy, who began to fly, saying:“Who can stand before this great hero?”In their hurry to retreat they began to slaughter one another. Dyjhicon, who had never been on horseback before, was so much afraid that he thought he was already lost. As the horse was running through the forest, he threw his arms around an oak tree and embraced it, letting the horse go from under him. The tree happened to be rotten and was rooted out when he took hold of it. This caused a great panic among the enemy, who ran away exclaiming:“Aha! he has pulled up by the roots an enormous oak, and now he means to batter us into pieces with it. Who can stand before this strong warrior?”So crying as they ran away, they slaughtered one another. Thereupon, the seven brothers came and embracing the feet of their heroic brother-in-law, exclaimed:“What magnificent courage! What a great victory!”With these words they brought Dyjhicon home with great pomp and glory. The four princes who waged the war, being greatly humiliated, sued for reconciliation, and in order to gain Dyjhicon’s favor, each of them sent him as a present one thousand ewes with their lambs, ten mares with their colts, and other costly offerings.Thus the greatest coward became the greatest hero.
The Story of a Boy who Learned His Lessons in SchoolOnce upon a time there lived a man who had three sons. The two older ones worked in the fields, but the youngest one went to school. He learned how to read and write and do sums and make drawings. At last he even learned magic.The two elder brothers complained to their father about him one day. Their hearts were bitter against him.“It is not fair, father,” they said. “We work hard every day in the fields and bring home money to enrich the family. Why shouldn’t our brother work, too? He does nothing except study.”The youngest son heard their words of complaint.“Will you go hunting with me to-morrow, father?” he asked. “I have learned much magic. In fact, I have become a master of magic. I will turn myself into a hunting dog if you will go into the fields with me.”The next day the young man changed himself by magic into a hunting dog, and his father went into the fields with him. He bagged many rabbits that day. As they returned home, he met one of his friends.“What luck to-day?” asked his friend.The hunter proudly displayed the rabbits he had in his bag. “I have them, thanks to my dog,” he said.“I’d like to buy that dog of yours,” said his friend. “What will you take for him?”The father named an enormous price, and to his great surprise his friend accepted it. The money was passed over at once, and the hunting dog went home with his new master.The next day they went on a hunting expedition into the deep forest. Suddenly the dog disappeared. His master called and whistled to him in vain. Finally he was obliged to return home without him. He had lost both the dog and the money he had paid for him.“Have you seen my hunting dog?” were his words for many weeks to every one he met.His hunting dog had fled into a deep forest and once more resumed his original form. He returned home and told his two brothers that in a single day he had earned for his father more than their combined efforts for many weeks. Indeed it was quite true.The next day the young man said to his father: “Will you buy a saddle and bridle for me if I turn myself into a horse?”His father made the purchase, and then the young man changed into a handsome black horse. His father rode him up and down the streets very proudly. The Great Magician noticed the beautiful beast.He called the man to him and said: “That is a very good horse you are riding. What will you sell him for?”The father named an enormous price, but he at once paid it cheerfully. He ordered the horse placed in his stables.Now this Great Magician had a beautiful daughter who was very fond of horses. She went out to inspect his new purchase as soon as it was brought home. She noticed that the horse ate nothing.“What a beauty!” she cried as she stroked his glossy black coat. “You are the handsomest horse in the stable. Why don’t you eat? I believe your bridle is hurting you. I’m going to take it off.”As soon as the bridle was removed it was changed into a bird and flew out the window. The Great Magician at that moment changed himself into a hawk and killed the bird, never dreaming that it was the bridle of the new horse he had purchased.The next morning when the Great Magician went to mount his beautiful black steed there was no new horse to be found in the stable. The horse had changed into a kernel of corn.The Great Magician transformed himself into a hen to eat up the corn, but the youth was too quick for him. He changed into a dog and seized the hen between his teeth and gave it a good shaking. Then he returned to his own form and explained the whole affair to the Great Magician.“You are surely a master of magic,” was the comment of the magician.When the Great Magician had forgiven him for the shaking he had received when he was in the form of a hen, he gladly gave his consent to his daughter’s marriage to the master of magic.
Once upon a time there lived a King who had two daughters, and he loved them with all his heart. When they grew up, he was suddenly seized with a wish to know if they, on their part, truly loved him, and he made up his mind that he would give his kingdom to whichever best proved her devotion.So he called the elder Princess and said to her, ‘How much do you love me?’‘As the apple of my eye!’ answered she.‘Ah!’ exclaimed the King, kissing her tenderly as he spoke, ‘you are indeed a good daughter.’Then he sent for the younger, and asked her how much she loved him.‘I look upon you, my father,’ she answered, ‘as I look upon salt in my food.’But the King did not like her words, and ordered her to quit the court, and never again to appear before him. The poor Princess went sadly up to her room and began to cry, but when she was reminded of her father’s commands, she dried her eyes, and made a bundle of her jewels and her best dresses and hurriedly left the castle where she was born.She walked straight along the road in front of her, without knowing very well where she was going or what was to become of her, for she had never been shown how to work, and all she had learnt consisted of a few household rules, and receipts of dishes which her mother had taught her long ago. And as she was afraid that no housewife would want to engage a girl with such a pretty face, she determined to make herself as ugly as she could.She therefore took off the dress that she was wearing and put on some horrible old rags belonging to a beggar, all torn and covered with mud. After that she smeared mud all over her hands and face, and shook her hair into a great tangle. Having thus changed her appearance, she went about offering herself as a goose-girl or shepherdess. But the farmers’ wives would have nothing to say to such a dirty maiden, and sent her away with a morsel of bread for charity’s sake.After walking for a great many days without being able to find any work, she came to a large farm where they were in want of a shepherdess, and engaged her gladly.One day when she was keeping her sheep in a lonely tract of land, she suddenly felt a wish to dress herself in her robes of splendour. She washed herself carefully in the stream, and as she always carried her bundle with her, it was easy to shake off her rags, and transform herself in a few moments into a great lady.The King’s son, who had lost his way out hunting, perceived this lovely damsel a long way off, and wished to look at her closer. But as soon as the girl saw what he was at, she fled into the wood as swiftly as a bird. The Prince ran after her, but as he was running he caught his foot in the root of a tree and fell, and when he got up again, she was nowhere to be seen.When she was quite safe, she put on her rags again, and smeared over her face and hands. However the young Prince, who was both hot and thirsty, found his way to the farm, to ask for a drink of cider, and he inquired the name of the beautiful lady that kept the sheep. At this everyone began to laugh, for they said that the shepherdess was one of the ugliest and dirtiest creatures under the sun.The Prince thought some witchcraft must be at work, and he hastened away before the return of the shepherdess, who became that evening the butt of everybody’s jests.But the King’s son thought often of the lovely maiden whom he had only seen for a moment, though she seemed to him much more fascinating than any lady of the Court. At last he dreamed of nothing else, and grew thinner day by day till his parents inquired what was the matter, promising to do all they could to make him as happy as he once was. He dared not tell them the truth, lest they should laugh at him, so he only said that he should like some bread baked by the kitchen girl in the distant farm.Although the wish appeared rather odd, they hastened to fulfil it, and the farmer was told the request of the King’s son. The maiden showed no surprise at receiving such an order, but merely asked for some flour, salt, and water, and also that she might be left alone in a little room adjoining the oven, where the kneading- trough stood. Before beginning her work she washed herself carefully, and even put on her rings; but, while she was baking, one of her rings slid into the dough. When she had finished she dirtied herself again, and let the lumps of the dough stick to her fingers, so that she became as ugly as before.The loaf, which was a very little one, was brought to the King’s son, who ate it with pleasure. But in cutting it he found the ring of the Princess, and declared to his parents that he would marry the girl whom that ring fitted.So the King made a proclamation through his whole kingdom and ladies came from afar to lay claim to the honour. But the ring was so tiny that even those who had the smallest hands could only get it on their little fingers. In a short time all the maidens of the kingdom, including the peasant girls, had tried on the ring, and the King was just about to announce that their efforts had been in vain, when the Prince observed that he had not yet seen the shepherdess.They sent to fetch her, and she arrived covered with rags, but with her hands cleaner than usual, so that she could easily slip on the ring. The King’s son declared that he would fulfil his promise, and when his parents mildly remarked that the girl was only a keeper of sheep, and a very ugly one too, the maiden boldly said that she was born a princess, and that, if they would only give her some water and leave her alone in a room for a few minutes, she would show that she could look as well as anyone in fine clothes.They did what she asked, and when she entered in a magnificent dress, she looked so beautiful that all saw she must be a princess in disguise. The King’s son recognized the charming damsel of whom he had once caught a glimpse, and, flinging himself at her feet, asked if she would marry him. The Princess then told her story, and said that it would be necessary to send an ambassador to her father to ask his consent and to invite him to the wedding.The Princess’s father, who had never ceased to repent his harshness towards his daughter, had sought her through the land, but as no one could tell him anything of her, he supposed her dead. Therefore it was with great joy he heard that she was living and that a king’s son asked her in marriage, and he quitted his kingdom with his elder daughter so as to be present at the ceremony.By the orders of the bride, they only served her father at the wedding breakfast bread without salt, and meat without seasoning. Seeing him make faces, and eat very little, his daughter, who sat beside him, inquired if his dinner was not to his taste.‘No,’ he replied, ‘the dishes are carefully cooked and sent up, but they are all so dreadfully tasteless.’‘Did not I tell you, my father, that salt was the best thing in life? And yet, when I compared you to salt, to show how much I loved you, you thought slightingly of me and you chased me from your presence.’The King embraced his daughter, and allowed that he had been wrong to misinterpret her words. Then, for the rest of the wedding feast they gave him bread made with salt, and dishes with seasoning, and he said they were the very best he had ever eaten.
A poor servant-girl was once traveling with the family with which she was in service, through a great forest, and when they were in the midst of it, robbers came out of the thicket, and murdered all they found. All perished together except the girl, who had jumped out of the carriage in a fright, and hidden herself behind a tree. When the robbers had gone away with their booty, she came out and beheld the great disaster. Then she began to weep bitterly, and said, “What can a poor girl like me do now? I do not know how to get out of the forest, no human being lives in it, so I must certainly starve.”She walked about and looked for a road, but could find none. When it was evening she seated herself under a tree, gave herself into God’s keeping, and resolved to sit waiting there and not go away, let what might happen. When, however, she had sat there for a while, a white dove came flying to her with a little golden key in its mouth. It put the little key in her hand, and said, “Dost thou see that great tree, therein is a little lock, it opens with the tiny key, and there thou wilt find food enough, and suffer no more hunger.”Then she went to the tree and opened it, and found milk in a little dish, and white bread to break into it, so that she could eat her fill. When she was satisfied, she said, “It is now the time when the hens at home go to roost, I am so tired I could go to bed too.”Then the dove flew to her again, and brought another golden key in its bill, and said, “Open that tree there, and thou wilt find a bed.”So she opened it, and found a beautiful white bed, and she prayed God to protect her during the night, and lay down and slept. In the morning the dove came for the third time, and again brought a little key, and said, “Open that tree there, and thou wilt find clothes.” And when she opened it, she found garments beset with gold and with jewels, more splendid than those of any king’s daughter. So she lived there for some time, and the dove came every day and provided her with all she needed, and it was a quiet good life.Once, however, the dove came and said, “Wilt thou do something for my sake?”“With all my heart,” said the girl. Then said the little dove, “I will guide thee to a small house; enter it, and inside it, an old woman will be sitting by the fire and will say, ‘Good-day.’ But on thy life give her no answer, let her do what she will, but pass by her on the right side; further on, there is a door, which open, and thou wilt enter into a room where a quantity of rings of all kinds are lying, amongst which are some magnificent ones with shining stones; leave them, however, where they are, and seek out a plain one, which must likewise be amongst them, and bring it here to me as quickly as thou canst.”The girl went to the little house, and came to the door. There sat an old woman who stared when she saw her, and said, “Good day my child.”The girl gave her no answer, and opened the door. “Whither away,” cried the old woman, and seized her by the gown, and wanted to hold her fast, saying, “That is my house; no one can go in there if I choose not to allow it.”But the girl was silent, got away from her, and went straight into the room. Now there lay on the table an enormous quantity of rings, which gleamed and glittered before her eyes. She turned them over and looked for the plain one, but could not find it. While she was seeking, she saw the old woman and how she was stealing away, and wanting to get off with a bird-cage which she had in her hand. So she went after her and took the cage out of her hand, and when she raised it up and looked into it, a bird was inside which had the plain ring in its bill.Then she took the ring, and ran quite joyously home with it, and thought the little white dove would come and get the ring, but it did not. Then she leant against a tree and determined to wait for the dove, and, as she thus stood, it seemed just as if the tree was soft and pliant, and was letting its branches down. And suddenly the branches twined around her, and were two arms, and when she looked round, the tree was a handsome man, who embraced and kissed her heartily, and said, “Thou hast delivered me from the power of the old woman, who is a wicked witch. She had changed me into a tree, and every day for two hours I was a white dove, and so long as she possessed the ring I could not regain my human form.”Then his servants and his horses, who had likewise been changed into trees, were freed from the enchantment also, and stood beside him. And he led them forth to his kingdom, for he was a King’s son, and they married, and lived happily.
“That is a terrible story!” said a Hen in a quarter of the town where the affair had not happened. “That is a terrible story from a poultry-yard. I dare not sleep alone to-night! It is quite fortunate that there are so many of us on the roost together!” And she told a tale, which made the feathers of the other hens stand on end, and the cock’s comb fall down flat. It is quite true!But we will begin at the beginning; and that took place in a poultry-yard in another part of the town. The sun went down, and the fowls jumped up on their perch to roost. There was a Hen, with white feathers and short legs, who laid eggs regularly and was a respectable hen in every way; as she flew up on to the roost she pecked herself with her beak, and a little feather fell from her.“There it goes!” said she; “the more I peck myself the handsomer I grow!” And she said it quite merrily, for she was a joker among the hens, though, as I have said, she was very respectable; and then she went to sleep.It was dark all around; the hens sat side by side on the roost, but the one that sat next to the merry Hen did not sleep: she heard and she didn’t hear, as one should do in this world if one wishes to live in peace; but she could not help telling it to her neighbor.“Did you hear what was said here just now? I name no names; but here is a hen who wants to peck her feathers out to look well. If I were a cock I should despise her.”And just above the hens sat the Owl, with her husband and her children; the family had sharp ears, and they all heard every word that the neighboring Hen had spoken. They rolled their eyes, and the Mother-Owl clapped her wings and said, “Don’t listen to it! But I suppose you heard what was said there? I heard it with my own ears, and one must hear much before one’s ears fall off. There is one among the fowls who has so completely forgotten what is becoming conduct in a hen that she pulls out all her feathers, while the cock sits looking at her.”“Prenez garde aux enfants,” said the Father-Owl. “That’s not a story for the children to hear.”“I’ll tell it to the neighbor owl; she’s a very proper owl to associate with.” And she flew away.“Hoo! hoo! to-whoo!” they both screeched in front of the neighbor’s dove-cote to the doves within. “Have you heard it? Have you heard it? Hoo! hoo! there’s a hen who has pulled out all her feathers for the sake of the cock. She’ll die with cold, if she’s not dead already.”“Coo! coo! Where, where?” cried the Pigeons.“In the neighbor’s poultry-yard. I’ve as good as seen it myself. It’s hardly proper to repeat the story, but it’s quite true!”“Believe it! believe every single word of it!” cooed the Pigeons, and they cooed down into their own poultry-yard. “There’s a hen, and some say that there are two of them that have plucked out all their feathers, that they may not look like the rest, and that they may attract the cock’s attention. That’s a dangerous thing to do, for one may catch cold and die of a fever, and they are both dead.”“Wake up! wake up!” crowed the Cock, and he flew up on to the plank; his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but yet he crowed. “Three hens have died of a broken heart. They have plucked out all their feathers. That’s a terrible story. I won’t keep it to myself; pass it on.”“Pass it on!” piped the Bats; and the fowls clucked and the cocks crowed, “Pass it on! Pass it on!” And so the story traveled from poultry-yard to poultry-yard, and at last came back to the place from which it had gone forth.“Five fowls,” it was told, “have plucked out all their feathers to show which of them had become thinnest out of love to the cock; and then they have pecked each other, and fallen down dead, to the shame and disgrace of their families, and to the great loss of their master.”And the Hen who had lost the little loose feather, of course did not know her own story again; and as she was a very respectable Hen, she said,—“I despise those hens; but there are many of that sort. One ought not to hush up such a thing, and I shall do what I can that the story may get into the papers, and then it will be spread over all the country, and that will serve those hens right, and their families too.”It was put into the newspaper; it was printed; and it’s quite true—that one little feather may easily become five hens.
The Eagle of Gwernabwy had been long married to his female, and had by her many children; she died, and he continued a long time a widower; but at length be proposed a marriage with the Owl of Cwm Cwmlwyd; but afraid of her being young, so as to have children by her, and thereby degrade his own family, he first of all went to inquire about her age amongst the aged of the world. Accordingly he applied to the Stag of Rhedynfre, whom he found lying close to the trunk of an old oak, and requested to know the Owl’s age.“I have seen,” said the Stag, “this oak an acorn, which is now fallen to the ground through age, without either bark or leaves, and never suffered any hurt or strain except from my rubbing myself against it once a day, after getting up on my legs; but I never remember to have seen the Owl you mention younger or older than she seems to be at this day. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Salmon of Glynllifon.”The Eagle then applied to the Salmon for the age of the Owl. The Salmon answered, “I am as many years old as there are scales upon my skin, and particles of spawn within my belly; yet never saw I the Owl you mention but the same in appearance. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Blackbird of Cilgwri.”The Eagle next repaired to the Blackbird of Cilgwri, whom he found perched upon a small stone, and enquired of him the Owl’s age.“Dost thou see this stone upon which I sit,” said the Blackbird, “which is now no bigger than what a man can carry in his hand? I have seen this very stone of such weight as to be a sufficient load for a hundred oxen to draw, which has suffered neither rubbing nor wearing, save that I rub my bill on it once every evening, and touch the tips of my wings on it every morning, when I expand them to fly; yet I have not seen the Owl either older or younger than she appears to be at this day. But there is one older than I am, and that is the Frog of Mochno Bog, and if he does not know her age, there is not a creature living that does know it.”The Eagle went last of all to the Frog and desired to know the Owl’s age. He answered, “I never ate anything but the dust from the spot which I inhabit, and that very sparingly, and dost thou see these great hills that surround and overawe this bog where I lie? They are formed only of the excrements from my body since I have inhabited this place, yet I never remember to have seen the Owl but an old hag, making that hideous noise, Too, hoo, hoo! always frightening the children in the neighbourhood.”So the Eagle of Gwernabwy, the Stag of Rhedynfre, the Salmon of Glynllifon, the Blackbird of Cilgwri, the Frog of Mochno Bog, and the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd are the oldest creatures in the whole world!
Far away, in the wide ocean there was once a green island where lived the most beautiful princess in the world, named Miranda. She had lived there ever since her birth, and was queen of the island. Nobody knew who were her parents, or how she had come there. But she was not alone; for there were twelve beautiful maidens, who had grown up with her on the island, and were her ladies-in-waiting.But a few strangers had visited the island, and spoken of the princess’s great beauty; and many more came in time, and became her subjects, and built a magnificent city, in which she had a splendid palace of white marble to live in.And in course of time a great many young princes came to woo her. But she did not care to marry any of them; and if anyone persisted, and tried to compel her by force to be his wife, she could turn him and all his soldiers into ice, by merely fixing her eyes upon them.One day the wicked Kosciey (pronounced Kósh-che-eh, literally “Boney.”) , the king of the Underground realm, came out into the upper world, and began to gaze all round it with his telescope. Various empires and kingdoms passed in review before him; and at last he saw the green island, and the rich city upon it; and the marble palace in this city, and in this palace the twelve beautiful young ladies-of-honour, and among them he beheld, lying on a rich couch of swansdown, the Princess Miranda asleep. She slept like an innocent child, but she was dreaming of a young knight, wearing a golden helmet, on a gallant steed, and carrying an invisible mace, that fought of itself; … and she loved him better than life.Kosciey looked at her; he was delighted with her beauty; he struck the earth three times, and stood upon the green island.Princess Miranda called together her brave army, and led them into the field, to fight the wicked Kosciey. But he, blowing on them with his poisonous breath, sent them all fast asleep, and he was just going to lay hands upon the princess, when she, throwing a glance of scorn at him, changed him into a lump of ice, and fled to her capital.Kosciey did not long remain ice. So soon as the princess was away, he freed himself from the power of her glance, and regaining his usual form, followed her to her city. Then he sent all the inhabitants of the island to sleep, and among them the princess’s twelve faithful damsels.She was the only one whom he could not injure; but being afraid of her glances, he surrounded the castle—which stood upon a high hill—with an iron rampart, and placed a dragon with twelve heads on guard before the gate, and waited for the princess to give herself up of her own accord.The days passed by, then weeks, then months, while her kingdom became a desert; all her people were asleep, and her faithful soldiers also lay sleeping on the open fields, their steel armour all rusted, and wild plants were growing over them undisturbed. Her twelve maidens were all asleep in different rooms of the palace, just where they happened to be at the time; and she herself, all alone, kept walking sadly to and fro in a little room up in a tower, where she had taken refuge—wringing her white hands, weeping, and her bosom heaving with sighs.Around her all were silent, as though dead; only every now and then, Kosciey, not daring to encounter her angry glance, knocked at the door asking her to surrender, promising to make her queen of his Underground realm. But it was all of no use; the princess was silent, and only threatened him with her looks.But grieving in her lonely prison Princess Miranda could not forget the lover of whom she had been dreaming; she saw him just as he had appeared to her in her dream.And she looked up with her blue eyes to heaven, and seeing a cloud floating by, she said:“O cloud! through the bright sky flying! Stay, and hearken my piteous sighing! In my sorrow I call upon thee; Oh! where is my loved one? say! Oh! where do his footsteps stray? And does he now think of me?”“I know not,” the cloud replied. “Ask the wind.”And she looked out into the wide plain, and seeing how the wind was blowing freely, she said:“O wind! o’er the wide world flying! Do thou pity my grief and crying! Have pity on me! Oh! where is my loved one? say! Oh! where do his footsteps stray? And does he now think of me?”“Ask the stars,” the wind replied; “they know more than I do.”So she cried to the stars:“O stars! with your bright beams glowing! Look down on my tears fast flowing! Have pity, have pity on me! Oh! where is my loved one? say! Oh! where do his footsteps stray? And does he now think of me?”“Ask the moon,” said the stars; “who being nearer to the earth, knows more of what happens there than we do.”So she said to the moon:“Bright moon, as your watch you keep, From the starry skies, o’er this land of sleep, Look down now, and pity me! Oh! where is my loved one? say! Where? where do his footsteps stray? And does he now think of me?”“I know nothing about your loved one, princess,” replied the moon; “but here comes the sun, who will surely be able to tell you.”And the sun rose up in the dawn, and at noontide stood just over the princess’s tower, and she said:“Thou soul of the world! bright sun! Look on me, in this prison undone! Have pity on me! Oh! where is my loved one? say! Through what lands do his footsteps stray? And does he now think of me?”“Princess Miranda,” said the sun; “dry your tears, comfort your heart; your lover is hastening to you, from the bottom of the deep sea, from under the coral reefs; he has won the enchanted ring; when he puts it on his finger, his army will increase by thousands, regiment after regiment, with horse and foot; the drums are beating, the sabres gleaming, the colours flying, the cannon roaring, they are bearing down on the empire of Kosciey. But he cannot conquer him by force of mortal weapons. I will teach him a surer way; and there is good hope that he will be able to deliver you from Kosciey, and save your country. I will hasten to your prince. Farewell.”The sun stood over a wide country, beyond the deep seas, beyond high mountains, where Prince Hero in a golden helmet, on a gallant horse, was drawing up his army, and preparing to march against Kosciey, the besieger of the fair princess. He had seen her three times in a dream, and had heard much about her, for her beauty was famous throughout the world.“Dismiss your army,” said the sun. “No army can conquer Kosciey, no bullet can reach him; you can only free Princess Miranda by killing him, and how you are to do it, you must learn from the old woman Jandza; I can only tell you where you will find the horse, that must carry you to her. Go hence towards the East; you will come to a green meadow, in which there are three oak trees; and among them you will find hidden in the ground an iron door, with a brazen padlock; behind this door you will find a battle charger, and a mace; the rest you will learn afterwards; … farewell!”Prince Hero was most surprised; but he took off his enchanted ring and threw it into the sea; with it all his great army vanished directly into mist, leaving no trace behind. He turned to the East and travelled onwards.After three days he came to the green meadow, where he found the three oak trees, and the iron door, as he had been told. It opened upon a narrow, crooked stairway, going downwards, leading into a deep dungeon, where he found another iron door, closed by a heavy iron padlock. Behind this he heard a horse neighing, so loudly that it made the door fall to the ground, and at the same moment eleven other doors flew open and there came out a war-horse, which had been shut up there for ages by a wizard.The prince whistled to the horse; the horse tugged at his fastenings, and broke twelve chains by which he had been fettered. He had eyes like stars, flaming nostrils, and a mane like a thunder-cloud; … he was a horse of horses, the wonder of the world.“Prince Hero!” said the horse, “I have long waited for such a rider as you, and I am ready to serve you for ever. Mount on my back, take that mace in your hand, which you see hanging to the saddle; you need not fight with it yourself, for it will strike wherever you command it, and beat a whole army. I know the way everywhere; tell me where you want to go, and you will presently be there.”The prince told him everything; took the self-fighting mace in his hand, and sprang on his back.The horse reared, snorted, spurned the ground, and they flew over mountains and forests, higher than the flying clouds, over rapid rivers, and deep seas; but when they flew along the ground the charger’s light feet never trampled down a blade of grass, nor raised an atom of dust on the sandy soil.Before sunset Prince Hero had reached the primeval forest in which the old woman Jandza lived.He was amazed at the size and age of the mighty oaks, pine trees and firs, where there reigned a perpetual twilight. And there was absolute silence—not a leaf or a blade of grass stirring; and no living thing, not so much as a bird, or the hum of an insect; only amidst this grave-like stillness the sound of his horse’s hoofs.The prince stopped before a little house, supported on crooked legs, and said:“Little house, move On your crooked legs free: Turn your back to the wood, And your front to me.”The house turned round, with the door towards him; the prince went in, and the old woman Jandza asked him:“How did you get here, Prince Hero, where no living soul has penetrated till now?”“Don’t ask me; but welcome your guest politely.”So the old woman gave the prince food and drink, made up a soft bed for him, to rest on after his journey, and left him for the night.Next morning he told her all, and what he had come for.“You have undertaken a great and splendid task, prince; so I will tell you how to kill Kosciey. In the Ocean-Sea, on the island of Everlasting Life, there is an old oak tree; under this tree is buried a coffer bound with iron; in this coffer is a hare; under the hare sits a grey duck; this duck carries within her an egg; and in this egg is enclosed the life of Kosciey. When you break the egg he will die at once. Now good-bye, prince; and good luck go with you; your horse will show you the way.”The prince got on horseback, and they soon left the forest behind them, and came to the shore of the ocean.On the beach was a fisherman’s net, and in the net was a great fish, who when he saw the prince, cried out piteously:“Prince Hero! take me out of the net, and throw me back into the sea; I will repay you!”The prince took the fish out of the net, and threw it into the sea; it splashed in the water, and vanished.The prince looked over the sea, and saw the island in the grey distance, far, far away; but how was he to get there? He leaned upon his mace, deep in thought.“What are you thinking of, prince?” asked the horse.“I am thinking how I am to get to the island, when I cannot swim over that breadth of sea.”“Sit on my back, prince, and hold fast.”So the prince sat firm on the horse’s back, and held fast by the thick mane; a wind arose, and the sea was somewhat rough; but rider and horse pushed on, through the billows, and at last came to shore on the island of Everlasting Life.The prince took off his horse’s bridle, and let him loose to feed in a meadow of luxuriant grass, and walked on quickly to a high hill, where grew the old oak tree. Taking it in both hands he tugged at it; the oak resisted all his efforts; he tugged again, the oak began to creak, and moved a little; he mustered all his strength, and tugged again. The oak fell with a crash to the ground, with its roots uppermost, and there, where they had stood firmly fixed so many hundred years, was a deep hole.Looking down he saw the iron-bound coffer; he fetched it up, broke open the lock with a stone, raised the lid, picked up the hare lying in it by its ears; but at that moment the duck, which had been sitting under the hare, took the alarm, and flew off straight to sea.The prince fired a shot after her; the bullet hit the duck; she gave one loud quack, and fell; but in that same instant the egg fell from her—down to the bottom of the sea. The prince gave a cry of despair; but just then a great fish came swimming, dived down to the depths of the sea, and coming to the shore, with the egg in its jaws, left it on the sand.The fish swam away; but the prince, taking up the egg, mounted his horse once more; and they swam till they reached Princess Miranda’s island, where they saw a great iron wall stretching all round her white marble palace.“The dragon who kept watch.” Illustration by Cecile Walton, published in Polish Fairy Tales by Maude Ashurt Biggs (1920), John Lane Company.There was only one entrance through this iron wall to the palace, and before this lay the monstrous dragon with the twelve heads, six of which kept guard alternately; when the one half slept the other six remained awake. If anyone were to approach the gate he could not escape the horrid jaws. Nobody could hurt the dragon; for he could only suffer death by his own act.The prince stood on the hill before that gate, and commanded his self-fighting mace, which also had the faculty of becoming invisible, to go and clear his entrance to the palace.The invisible, self-fighting mace fell upon the dragon and began to thunder on all his heads with such force, that all his eyes became bloodshot, and he began to hiss fiercely; he shook his twelve heads, and stretched wide his twelve horrid jaws; he spread out his forest of claws; but this helped him not at all, the mace kept on smiting him, moving about so fast, that not a single head escaped, but could only hiss, groan, and shriek wildly! Now it had given a thousand blows, the blood gushed from a thousand wounds, and there was no help for the dragon; he raged, writhed about, and shrieked in despair; finally, as blow followed blow, and he could not see who gave them, he gnashed his teeth, belched forth flame, and at length turned his claws upon himself, plunging them deep into his own flesh, struggled, writhed, twisted himself round, and in and out; his blood flowed freely from his wounds … and now it was all over with the dragon.The prince, seeing this, went into the courtyard of the palace, put his horse into the stable, and went up by a winding stair, towards the tower, whence the Princess Miranda, having seen him, addressed him:“Welcome, Prince Hero! I saw how you disposed of the dragon; but do be careful, for my enemy, Kosciey, is in this palace; he is most powerful, both through his own strength, and through his sorceries; and if he kills you I can live no longer.“Princess Miranda, do not trouble about me. I have the life of Kosciey in this egg.” Then he called out:“Invisible self-fighting mace, go into the palace and beat Kosciey.”The mace bestirred itself quickly, battered in the iron doors, and set upon Kosciey; it smote him on the neck, till he crouched all together, the sparks flew from his eyes, and there was a noise of so many mills in his ears.If he had been an ordinary mortal it would have been all over with him at once; as it was, he was horribly tormented, and puzzled—feeling all these blows, and never seeing whence they came. He sprang about, raved, and raged, till the whole island resounded with his roaring.At last he looked through the window, and behold there he saw Prince Hero. “Ah! that is all your doing!” he exclaimed; and sprang out into the courtyard, to rush straight at him, and beat him to a jelly! But the prince held the egg in one hand ready; and he squeezed it so hard, that the shell cracked and the yolk and the white were all spilled together … and Kosciey fell lifeless!And with the death of the enchanter all his charms were dissolved at once; all the people in the island who were asleep woke up, and began to stir. The soldiers woke from sleep, and the drums began to beat; they formed their ranks, massed themselves in order, and began to march towards the palace.And in the palace there was great joy; for Princess Miranda came towards the prince, gave him her white hand, and thanked him warmly. They went to the throne-room, and following the princess’s example, her twelve waiting-maids paired off with twelve young officers of the army, and the couples grouped themselves round the throne, on which the prince and princess were sitting.And then a priest, arrayed in all his vestments, came in at the open door, and the prince and princess exchanged rings, and were married.And all the other couples were married at the same time, and after the wedding there was a feast, dancing, and music, which it is a pleasure to think of. Everywhere there was rejoicing.
On the banks of a certain river, where there was always good fishing, lived an old man and his three sons. The two eldest were sharp-witted, active young men, already married; the youngest was stupid and idle, and a bachelor. When the father was dying, he called his children to him and told them how he had left his property. The house was for his two married sons, with a sum of three hundred florins each. After his death he was buried with great pomp, and after the funeral there was a splendid feast. All these honours were supposed to be for the benefit of the man’s soul.When the elder brothers took possession of their inheritance, they said to the youngest: “Listen, brother; let us take charge of your share of the money, for we intend going out into the world as merchants, and when we have made a great deal of money we will buy you a hat, a sash, and a pair of red boots. You will be better at home; and mind you do as your sisters-in-law tell you.”For a long time this silly fellow had been wanting a cap, a sash, and a pair of red boots, so he was easily persuaded to give up all his money.The brothers set out on their travels, and crossed the sea in search of fortune. The “fool” of the family remained at home; and, as he was an out-and-out sluggard, he would lie whole days at a time on the warm stove without doing a stroke of work, and only obeying his sisters-in-law with the greatest reluctance. He liked fried onions, potato soup, and cider, better than anything else in the world.One day his sisters-in-law asked him to fetch them some water.It was winter, and a hard frost; moreover, the sluggard did not feel at all inclined to go out. So he said, “Go yourselves, I prefer to stay here by the fire.”“Stupid boy, go at once. We will have some onions, potato soup, and cider ready for you when you come back. If you refuse to do what we ask you we shall tell our husbands, and then there will be neither cap, sash, nor red boots for you.”At these words the sluggard thought he had better go. So he rolled off the stove, took a hatchet and a couple of pails, and went down to the river. On the surface of the water, where the ice had been broken, was a large pike. The sluggard seized him by the fins and pulled him out.“If you will let me go,” said the pike, “I promise to give you everything you wish for.”“Well then, I should like all my desires to be fulfilled the moment I utter them.”“You shall have everything you want the moment you pronounce these words:‘At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,May such and such things happen, as I like.’”“Just wait one moment while I try the effect,” said the sluggard, and began at once to say:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,Bring onions, cider, soup, just as I like.”That very moment his favourite dishes were before him. Having eaten a large quantity, he said, “Very good, very good indeed; but will it always be the same?”“Always,” replied the pike.The sluggard put the pike back into the river, and turning towards his buckets, said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,Walk home yourselves, my pails—that I should like.”The pails, and the strong rod to which they were fastened, immediately set off and walked solemnly along, the sluggard following them with his hands in his pockets. When they reached the house he put them in their places, and again stretched himself out to enjoy the warmth of the stove. Presently the sisters-in-law said, “Come and chop some wood for us.”“Bother! do it yourselves.”“It is not fit work for women. Besides, if you don’t do it the stove will be cold, and then you will be the chief sufferer. Moreover, pay attention to what we say, for if you do not obey us, there will be no red boots, nor any other pretty things.”The sluggard then just sat up and said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,Let what my sisters want be done—that’s what I like.”Instantly the hatchet came out from behind a stool and chopped up a large heap of wood, put a part of it on the stove, and retired to its corner. All this time the sluggard was eating and drinking at his ease.Another day some wood had to be brought from the forest. Our sluggard now thought he would like to show off before the villagers, so he pulled a sledge out of the shed, loaded it with onions and soup, after which he pronounced the magic words.The sledge started off, and passing through the village at a rattling pace, ran over several people, and frightened the women and children.When the forest was reached, our friend looked on while the blocks of wood and faggots cut, tied, and laid themselves on the sledge, after which they set off home again. But when they got to the middle of the village the men, who had been hurt and frightened in the morning, seized hold of the sluggard and pulled him off the sledge, dragging him along by the hair to give him a sound thrashing.At first he thought it was only a joke, but when the blows hurt his shoulders, he said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,Come, faggots, haste, and my assailants strike.”In a moment all the blocks of wood and faggots jumped off the sledge and began to hit right and left, and they hit so well that the men were glad to get out of the way as best they could.The sluggard laughed at them till his sides ached; then he remounted his sledge, and was soon lying on the stove again.From that day he became famous, and his doings were talked about all through the country.At last even the king heard of him, and, his curiosity being aroused, he sent some of his soldiers to fetch him.“Now then, booby,” said the soldier, “come down off that stove and follow me to the king’s palace.”“Why should I? There is as much cider, onions, and soup as I want at home.”The man, indignant at his want of respect, struck him.Upon which the sluggard said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,May this man get a taste of what a broom is like.”A large broom, and not particularly clean, immediately hopped up, and first dipping itself in a pail of water, beat the soldier so mercilessly that he was obliged to escape through the window, whence he returned to the king. His majesty, amazed at the sluggard’s refusal, sent another messenger. This man was ’cuter than his comrade, and first made inquiries as to the sluggard’s tastes. Then he went up to him and said, “Good-day, my friend; will you come with me to see the king? He wishes to present you with a cap, a waistband, and a pair of red boots.”“With the greatest pleasure; you go on, I will soon overtake you.”Then he ate as much as he could of his favourite dishes and went to sleep on the stove. He slept so long that at last his sisters-in-law woke him up and told him he would be late if he did not at once go to see the king. The lazy fellow said nothing but these words:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,This stove to carry me before the king I’d like.”At the very same instant the stove moved from its place and carried him right up to the palace door. The king was filled with amazement, and running out, followed by the whole court, asked the sluggard what he would like to have.“I have merely come to fetch the hat, waistband, and red boots you promised me.”Just then the charming princess Gapiomila came to find out what was going on. Directly the sluggard saw her, he thought her so enchanting that he whispered to himself:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,That this princess so fair may love me, I should like.”Then he ordered his stove to take him back home, and when there he continued to eat onions and soup and to drink cider.Meanwhile the princess had fallen in love with him, and begged her father to send for him again. As the sluggard would not consent, the king had him bound when asleep, and thus brought to the palace. Then he summoned a celebrated magician, who at his orders shut the princess and sluggard up in a crystal cask, to which was fastened a balloon well filled with gas, and sent it up in the air among the clouds. The princess wept bitterly, but the fool sat still and said he felt very comfortable. At last she persuaded him to exert his powers, so he said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,This cask of crystal earth at once must strikeUpon the friendly island I should like.”The crystal cask immediately descended, and opened upon a hospitable island where travellers could have all they wanted by simply wishing for it. The princess and her companion walked about, eating when hungry, and drinking when athirst. The sluggard was very happy and contented, but the lady begged him to wish for a palace. Instantly the palace made its appearance. It was built of white marble, with crystal windows, roof of yellow amber, and golden furniture. She was delighted with it. Next day she wanted a good road made, along which she could go to see her father. Immediately there stretched before them a fairy-like bridge made of crystal, having golden balustrades set with diamonds, and leading right up to the king’s palace. The sluggard was just about to accompany the princess when he began to think of his own appearance, and to feel ashamed that such an awkward, stupid fellow as he should walk by the side of such a lovely and graceful creature. So he said:“At my behest, and by the orders of the pike,To be both handsome, wise, and clever I should like.”Suddenly he became as handsome, wise, and clever as it was possible to be. Then he got into a gorgeous carriage with Gapiomila, and they drove across the bridge that led to the king’s palace.There they were received with every mark of joy and affection. The king gave them his blessing, and they were married the same evening. An immense number of guests were invited to the wedding feast; I, too, was there, and drank freely of wine and hydromel. And this is the story I have done my best to tell you as faithfully as possible.
Once two children, the sons of a giant, strayed into Asgard. They were too young to know the way back to their home. Odin and Frigg, his wife, adopted the two boys and called them their sons. Odin cared most for Geirrod. But Frigg loved Aganor, the younger one, best. When they were grown, Odin gave each of them a kingdom in his own realm. But Aganor left his kingdom and went back to Jotunheim. Odin was pleased more than ever with Geirrod because he did not follow his brother. But Frigg heard it said that Geirrod only appeared to be good, and that he tortured strangers to make them give up their gold. When Odin heard this, he determined to go to see Geirrod and prove that it was not true. So he made himself look like a very old man, and went to Geirrod’s house. Instead of giving him a seat at the table and a bed, Geirrod chained him between two fires.For eight days the old man was silent, although no food was given him. He had not even any water, but once when Aganor, Geirrod’s son, ran in and gave him a little cupful. At last the fire became so hot that it burned the old man’s clothing. Then suddenly he began to sing a wonderful song in a deep and musical voice. Geirrod knew at once that it was Odin. In his despair, he slew himself with his sword. The little Aganor, who had pitied the stranger, became king in his place.
Once upon a time, on an uninhabited island on the shores of the Red Sea, there lived a Parsee from whose hat the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour. And the Parsee lived by the Red Sea with nothing but his hat and his knife and a cooking-stove of the kind that you must particularly never touch. And one day he took flour and water and currants and plums and sugar and things, and made himself one cake which was two feet across and three feet thick. It was indeed a Superior Comestible (that’s magic), and he put it on stove because he was allowed to cook on the stove, and he baked it and he baked it till it was all done brown and smelt most sentimental. But just as he was going to eat it there came down to the beach from the Altogether Uninhabited Interior one Rhinoceros with a horn on his nose, two piggy eyes, and few manners. In those days the Rhinoceros’s skin fitted him quite tight. There were no wrinkles in it anywhere. He looked exactly like a Noah’s Ark Rhinoceros, but of course much bigger. All the same, he had no manners then, and he has no manners now, and he never will have any manners. He said, ‘How!’ and the Parsee left that cake and climbed to the top of a palm tree with nothing on but his hat, from which the rays of the sun were always reflected in more-than-oriental splendour. And the Rhinoceros upset the oil-stove with his nose, and the cake rolled on the sand, and he spiked that cake on the horn of his nose, and he ate it, and he went away, waving his tail, to the desolate and Exclusively Uninhabited Interior which abuts on the islands of Mazanderan, Socotra, and Promontories of the Larger Equinox. Then the Parsee came down from his palm-tree and put the stove on its legs and recited the following Sloka, which, as you have not heard, I will now proceed to relate:—Them that takes cakesWhich the Parsee-man bakesMakes dreadful mistakes.And there was a great deal more in that than you would think.Because, five weeks later, there was a heat wave in the Red Sea, and everybody took off all the clothes they had. The Parsee took off his hat; but the Rhinoceros took off his skin and carried it over his shoulder as he came down to the beach to bathe. In those days it buttoned underneath with three buttons and looked like a waterproof. He said nothing whatever about the Parsee’s cake, because he had eaten it all; and he never had any manners, then, since, or henceforward. He waddled straight into the water and blew bubbles through his nose, leaving his skin on the beach.Presently the Parsee came by and found the skin, and he smiled one smile that ran all round his face two times. Then he danced three times round the skin and rubbed his hands. Then he went to his camp and filled his hat with cake-crumbs, for the Parsee never ate anything but cake, and never swept out his camp. He took that skin, and he shook that skin, and he scrubbed that skin, and he rubbed that skin just as full of old, dry, stale, tickly cake-crumbs and some burned currants as ever it could possibly hold. Then he climbed to the top of his palm-tree and waited for the Rhinoceros to come out of the water and put it on.And the Rhinoceros did. He buttoned it up with the three buttons, and it tickled like cake crumbs in bed. Then he wanted to scratch, but that made it worse; and then he lay down on the sands and rolled and rolled and rolled, and every time he rolled the cake crumbs tickled him worse and worse and worse. Then he ran to the palm-tree and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed himself against it. He rubbed so much and so hard that he rubbed his skin into a great fold over his shoulders, and another fold underneath, where the buttons used to be (but he rubbed the buttons off), and he rubbed some more folds over his legs. And it spoiled his temper, but it didn’t make the least difference to the cake-crumbs. They were inside his skin and they tickled. So he went home, very angry indeed and horribly scratchy; and from that day to this every rhinoceros has great folds in his skin and a very bad temper, all on account of the cake-crumbs inside.But the Parsee came down from his palm-tree, wearing his hat, from which the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour, packed up his cooking-stove, and went away in the direction of Orotavo, Amygdala, the Upland Meadows of Anantarivo, and the Marshes of Sonaput.THIS Uninhabited IslandIs off Cape Gardafui,By the Beaches of SocotraAnd the Pink Arabian Sea:But it’s hot—too hot from SuezFor the likes of you and meEver to goIn a P. and O.And call on the Cake-Parsee!
Maurice Connor was the king, and that’s no small word, of all the pipers in Munster. He could play jig and reel without end, and Ollistrum’s March, and the Eagle’s Whistle, and the Hen’s Concert, and odd tunes of every sort and kind. But he knew one far more surprising than the rest, which had in it the power to set everything dead or alive dancing.In what way he learned it is beyond my knowledge for he was mighty cautious about telling how he came by so wonderful a tune. At the very first note of that tune the shoes began shaking upon the feet of all how heard it–old or young, it mattered not–just as if the shoes had the ague; then the feet began going, going, going from under them, and at last up and away with them, dancing like mad, whisking here, there, and everywhere, like a straw in a storm– there was no halting while the music lasted.Not a fair, nor a wedding, nor a feast in the seven parishes round, was counted worth the speaking of without ‘blind Maurice and his pipes.’ His mother, poor woman, used to lead him about from one place to another just like a dog.Down through Iveragh, Maurice Connor and his mother were taking their rounds. Beyond all other places Iveragh is the place for stormy coasts and steep mountains, as proper a spot it is as any in Ireland to get yourself drowned, or your neck broken on the land, should you prefer that. But, notwithstanding, in Ballinskellig Bay there is a neat bit of ground, well fitted for diversion, and down from it, towards the water, is a clean smooth piece of strand, the dead image of a calm summer’s sea on a moonlight night, with just the curl of the small waves upon it.Here is was that Maurice’s music had brought from all parts a great gathering of the young men and the young women; for ’twas not every day the strand of Trafraska was stirred up by the voice of a bagpipe. The dance began; and as pretty a dance it was as ever was danced. ‘Brave music,’ said everybody, ‘and well done,’ when Maurice stopped.‘More power to your elbow, Maurice, and a fair wind in the bellows,’ cried Paddy Dorman, a hump-backed dancing master, who was there to keep order. ”Tis a pity,’ said he, ‘if we’d let the piper run dry after such music; ‘twould be a disgrace to Iveragh, that didn’t come on it since the week of the three Sundays.’ So, as well became him, for he was always a decent man, says he, ‘Did you drink, piper?’‘I will, sir,’ said Maurice, answering the question on the safe side, for you never yet knew piper or schoolmaster who refused his drink.‘What will you drink, Maurice?’ says Paddy.‘I’m no ways particular,’ says Maurice; ‘I drink anything, barring raw water; but if it’s all the same to you, Mister Dorman, may be you wouldn’t lend me the loan of a glass of whisky.’‘I’ve no glass, Maurice,’ said Paddy; ‘I’ve only the bottle.’‘Let that be no hindrance,’ answered Maurice; ‘my mouth just holds a glass to the drop; often I’ve tried it sure.’So Paddy Dorman trusted him with the bottle–more fool was he; and, to his cost, he found that though Maurice’s mouth might not hold more than the glass at one time, yet, owing to the hole in his throat, it took many a filling.‘That was no bad whisky neither,’ says Maurice, handing back the empty bottle.‘By the holy frost, then!’ says Paddy, ”tis but cold comfort there’s in that bottle now; and ’tis your word we must take for the strength of the whisky, for you’ve left us no sample to judge by’; and to be sure Maurice had not.Now I need not tell any gentleman or lady that if he or she was to drink an honest bottle of whisky at one pull, it is not at all the same thing as drinking a bottle of water; and in the whole course of my life I never knew more than five men who could do so without being the worse. Of these Maurice Connor was not one, though he had a stiff head enough of his own. Don’t think I blame him for it; but true is the word that says, ‘When liquor’s in sense is out’; and puff, at a breath, out he blasted his wonderful tune.“Crabs of monstrous size spun round and round on one claw with the nimbleness of a dancing master, and twirled and tossed their other claws about like limbs that did not belong to them.” Illustration by H.J. Ford, published in The Lilac Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (1910), Longsman, Green and Company.‘Twas really then beyond all belief or telling the dancing. Maurice himself could not keep quiet; staggering now on one leg, now on the other, and rolling about like a ship in a cross sea, trying to humour the tune. There was his mother, too, moving her old bones as light as the youngest girl of them all; but her dancing, no, nor the dancing of all the rest, is not worthy the speaking about to the work that was going on down upon the strand. Every inch of it covered with all manner of fish jumping and plunging about to the music, and every moment more and more would tumble in and out of the water, charmed by the wonderful tune. Crabs of monstrous size spun round and round on one claw with the nimbleness of a dancing master, and twirled and tossed their other claws about like limbs that did not belong to them. It was a sight surprising to behold. But perhaps you may have heard of Father Florence Conry, as pleasant a man as one would wish to drink with of a hot summer’s day; and he had rhymed out all about the dancing fishes so neatly that it would be a thousand pities not to give you his verses; so here they are in English:The big seals in motion, Like waves of the ocean, Or gouty feet prancing, Came heading the gay fish, Crabs, lobsters, and cray-fish, Determined on dancing.The sweet sounds they followed, The gasping cod swallow’d– ‘Twas wonderful, really; And turbot and flounder, ‘Mid fish that were rounder, Just caper’d as gaily.John-dories came tripping; Dull hake, by their skipping, To frisk it seem’d given; Bright mackrel went springing, Like small rainbows winging Their flight up to heaven.The whiting and haddock Left salt water paddock This dance to be put in; Where skate with flat faces Edged out some old plaices; But soles kept their footing.Sprats and herrings in powers Of silvery showers All number out-numbered; And great ling so lengthy Was there in such plenty The shore was encumber’d.The scallop and oyster Their two shells did roister, Like castanets flitting; While limpets moved clearly, And rocks very nearly With laughter were splitting.Never was such a hullabaloo in this world, before or since; ’twas as if heaven and earth were coming together; and all out of Maurice Connor’s wonderful tune!In the height of all these doings, what should there be dancing among the outlandish set of fishes but a beautiful young woman– as beautiful as the dawn of day! She had a cocked hat upon her head; from under it her long green hair–just the colour of the sea– fell down behind, without hindrance to her dancing. Her teeth were like rows of pearls; her lips for all the world looked like red coral; and she had a shining gown pale green as the hollow of the wave, with little rows of purple and red seaweeds settled out upon it; for you never yet saw a lady, under the water or over the water, who had not a good notion of dressing herself out.Up she danced at last to Maurice, who was flinging his feet from under him as fast as hops–for nothing in this world could keep still while that tune of his was going on–and says she to him, chanting it out with a voice as sweet as honey:I’m a lady of honour Who live in the sea; Come down, Maurice Connor, And be married to me. Silver plates and gold dishes You shall have, and shall be The king of the fishes, When you’re married to me.Drink was strong in Maurice’s head, and out he chanted in return for her great civility. It is not every lady, may be, that would be after making such an offer to a blind piper; therefore ’twas only right in him to give her as good as she gave herself, so says Maurice:I’m obliged to you, madam: Off a gold dish or plate, If a king, and I had ’em, I could dine in great state. With your own father’s daughter I’d be sure to agree, But to drink the salt water Wouldn’t do so with me!The lady looked at him quite amazed, and swinging her head from side to side like a great scholar, ‘Well,’ says she, ‘Maurice, if you’re not a poet, where is poetry to be found?’In this way they kept on at it, framing high compliments; one answering the other, and their feet going with the music as fast as their tongues. All the fish kept dancing, too; Maurice heard the clatter and was afraid to stop playing lest it might be displeasing to the fish, and not knowing what so many of them may take it into their heads to do to him if they got vexed.Well, the lady with the green hair kept on coaxing Maurice with soft speeches, till at last she over persuaded him to promise to marry her, and be king over the fishes, great and small. Maurice was well fitted to be their king, if they wanted one that could make them dance; and he surely would drink, barring the salt water, with any fish of them all.When Maurice’s mother saw him with that unnatural thing in the form of a green-haired lady as his guide, and he and she dancing down together so lovingly to the water’s edge, through the thick of the fishes, she called out after him to stop and come back. ‘Oh, then,’ says she, ‘as if I was not widow enough before, there he is going away from me to be married to that scaly woman. And who knows but ’tis grandmother I may be to a hake or a cod–Lord help and pity me, but ’tis a mighty unnatural thing! And my be ’tis boiling and eating my own grandchild I’ll be, with a bit of salt butter, and I not knowing it! Oh, Maurice, Maurice, if there’s any love or nature left in you, come back to your own ould mother, who reared you like a decent Christian!’ Then the poor woman began to cry and sob so finely that it would do anyone good to hear her.Maurice was not long getting to the rim of the water. There he kept playing and dancing on as if nothing was the matter, and a great thundering wave coming in towards him ready to swallow him up alive; but as he could not see it, he did not fear it. His mother it was who saw it plainly through the big tears that were rolling down her cheeks; and though she saw it, and her heart was aching as much as ever mother’s heart ached for a son, she kept dancing, dancing all the time for the bare life of her. Certain it was she could not help it, for Maurice never stopped playing that wonderful tune of his.He only turned his ear to the sound of his mother’s voice, fearing it might put him out in his steps, and all the answer he made back was, ‘Whisht with you mother–sure I’m going to be king over the fishes down in the sea, and for a token of luck, and a sign that I’m alive and well, I’ll send you in, every twelvemonth on this day, a piece of burned wood to Trafraska.’ Maurice had not the power to say a word more, for the strange lady with the green hair, seeing the wave just upon them, covered him up with herself in a thing like a cloak with a big hood to it, and the wave curling over twice as high as their heads, burst upon the strand, with a rush and a roar that might be heard as far as Cape Clear.That day twelvemonth the piece of burned wood came ashore in Trafraska. It was a queer thing for Maurice to think of sending all the way from the bottom of the sea. A gown or a pair of shoes would have been something like a present for his poor mother; but he had said it, and he kept his word. The bit of burned wood regularly came ashore on the appointed day for as good, ay, and better than a hundred years. The day is now forgotten, and may be that is the reason why people say how Maurice Connor has stopped sending the luck-token to his mother. Poor woman, she did not live to get as much as one of them; for what through the loss of Maurice, and the fear of eating her own grandchildren, she died in three weeks after the dance. Some say it was the fatigue that killed her, but whichever it was, Mrs. Connor was decently buried with her own people.Seafaring people have often heard, off the coast of Kerry, on a still night, the sound of music coming up from the water; and some, who have had good ears, could plainly distinguish Maurice Connor’s voice singing these words to his pipes–Beautiful shore, with thy spreading strand, Thy crystal water, and diamond sand; Never would I have parted from thee, But for the sake of my fair ladie.
In a day Fin MacCumhail was near Tara of the Kings, south of Ballyshannon, hunting with seven companies of the Fenians of Erin.During the day they saw three strange men coming towards them, and Fin said to the Fenians: “Let none of you speak to them, and if they have good manners they’ll not speak to you nor to any man till they come to me.”When the three men came up, they said nothing till they stood before Fin himself. Then he asked what their names were and what they wanted. They answered:—Fin was so well pleased with their looks that he brought them home with him that evening and called them his sons. Then he said, “Every man who comes to this castle must watch the first night for me, and since three of you have come together, each will watch one third of the night. You’ll cast lots to see who’ll watch first and second.”Fin had the trunk of a tree brought, three equal parts made of it, and one given to each of the men.Then he said, “When each of you begins his watch he will set fire to his own piece of wood, and so long as the wood burns he will watch.”The lot fell to Dubh to go on the first watch. Dubh set fire to his log, then went out around the castle, the dog Bran with him. He wandered on, going further and further from the castle, and Bran after him. At last he saw a bright light and went towards it. When he came to the place where the light was burning, he saw a large house. He entered the house and when inside saw a great company of most strange looking men, drinking out of a single cup.The chief of the party, who was sitting on a high place, gave the cup to the man nearest him; and when he had drunk his fill out of it, he passed it to his neighbor, and so on to the last.While the cup was going the round of the company, the chief said, “This is the great cup that was taken from Fin MacCumhail a hundred years ago; and as much as each man wishes to drink he always gets from it, and no matter how many men there may be, or what they wish for, they always have their fill.”Dubh sat near the door on the edge of the crowd, and when the cup came to him he drank a little, then slipped out and hurried away in the dark; when he came to the fountain at the castle of Fin MacCumhail, his log was burned.As the second lot had fallen on Dun, it was now his turn to watch, so he set fire to his log and went out, in the place of Dubh, with the dog Bran after him.Dun walked on through the night till he saw a fire. He went towards it, and when he had come near he saw a large house, which he entered; and when inside he saw a crowd of strange looking men, fighting. They were ferocious, wonderful to look at, and fighting wildly.The chief, who had climbed on the crossbeams of the house to escape the uproar and struggle, called out to the crowd below: “Stop fighting now; for I have a better gift than the one you have lost this night.” And putting his hand behind his belt, he drew out a knife and held it before them, saying: “Here is the wonderful knife, the small knife of division, that was stolen from Fin MacCumhail a hundred years ago, and if you cut on a bone with the knife, you’ll get the finest meat in the world, and as much of it as ever your hearts can wish for.”Then he passed down the knife and a bare bone to the man next him, and the man began to cut; and off came slices of the sweetest and best meat in the world.The knife and the bone passed from man to man till they came to Dun, who cut a slice off the bone, slipped out unseen, and made for Fin’s castle as fast as his two legs could carry him through the darkness and over the ground.When he was by the fountain at the castle, his part of the log was burned and his watch at an end.Now Glasán set fire to his stick of wood and went out on his watch and walked forward till he saw the light and came to the same house that Dubh and Dun had visited. Looking in he saw the place full of dead bodies, and thought, “There must be some great wonder here. If I lie down in the midst of these and put some of them over me to hide myself, I shall be able to see what is going on.”He lay down and pulled some of the bodies over himself. He wasn’t there long when he saw an old hag coming into the house. She had but one leg, one arm, and one upper tooth, which was as long as her leg and served her in place of a crutch. When inside the door she took up the first corpse she met and threw it aside; it was lean. As she went on she took two bites out of every fat corpse she met, and threw every lean one aside.She had her fill of flesh and blood before she came to Glasán; and as soon as she had that, she dropped down on the floor, lay on her back, and went to sleep.Every breath she drew, Glasán was afraid she’d drag the roof down on top of his head, and every time she let a breath out of her he thought she’d sweep the roof off the house.Then he rose up, looked at her, and wondered at the bulk of her body. At last he drew his sword, hit her a slash, and if he did, three young giants sprang forth.Glasán killed the first giant, the dog Bran killed the second, and the third ran away.Glasán now hurried back, and when he reached the fountain at Fin’s castle, his log of wood was burned, and day was dawning.When all had risen in the morning, and the Fenians of Erin came out, Fin said to Dubh, “Have you anything new or wonderful to tell me after the night’s watching?”“I have,” said Dubh; “for I brought back the drinking-cup that you lost a hundred years ago. I was out in the darkness watching. I walked on, and the dog Bran with me till I saw a light. When I came to the light I found a house, and in the house a company feasting. The chief was a very old man, and sat on a high place above the rest. He took out the cup and said: ‘This is the cup that was stolen from Fin MacCumhail a hundred years ago, and it is always full of the best drink in the world; and when one of you has drunk from the cup pass it on to the next.’“They drank and passed the cup till it came to me. I took it and hurried back. When I came here, my log was burned and my watch was finished. Here now is the cup for you,” said Dubh to Fin MacCumhail.Fin praised him greatly for what he had done, and turning to Dun said: “Now tell us what happened in your watch.”“When my turn came I set fire to the log which you gave me, and walked on; the dog Bran following, till I saw a light. When I came to the light, I found a house in which was a crowd of people, all fighting except one very old man on a high place above the rest. He called to them for peace, and told them to be quiet. ‘For,’ said he, ‘I have a better gift for you than the one you lost this night,’ and he took out the small knife of division with a bare bone, and said: ‘This is the knife that was stolen from Fin MacCumhail, a hundred years ago, and whenever you cut on the bone with the knife, you’ll get your fill of the best meat on earth.’“Then he handed the knife and the bone to the man nearest him, who cut from it all the meat he wanted, and then passed it to his neighbor. The knife went from hand to hand till it came to me, then I took it, slipped out, and hurried away. When I came to the fountain, my log was burned, and here are the knife and bone for you.”“You have done a great work, and deserve my best praise,” said Fin. “We are sure of the best eating and drinking as long as we keep the cup and the knife.”“Now what have you seen in your part of the night?” said Fin to Glasán.“I went out,” said Glasán, “with the dog Bran, and walked on till I saw a light, and when I came to the light I saw a house, which I entered. Inside were heaps of dead men, killed in fighting, and I wondered greatly when I saw them. At last I lay down in the midst of the corpses, put some of them over me and waited to see what would happen.“Soon an old hag came in at the door, she had but one arm, one leg, and the one tooth out of her upper jaw, and that tooth as long as her leg, and she used it for a crutch as she hobbled along. She threw aside the first corpse she met and took two bites out of the second,—for she threw every lean corpse away and took two bites out of every fat one. When she had eaten her fill, she lay down on her back in the middle of the floor and went to sleep. I rose up then to look at her, and every time she drew a breath I was in dread she would bring down the roof of the house on the top of my head, and every time she let a breath out of her, I thought she’d sweep the roof from the building, so strong was the breath of the old hag.“Then I drew my sword and cut her with a blow, but if I did three young giants sprang up before me. I killed the first, Bran killed the second, but the third escaped. I walked away then, and when I was at the fountain outside, daylight had come and my log was burned.”“Between you and me,” said Fin, “it would have been as well if you had let the old hag alone. I am greatly in dread the third young giant will bring trouble on us all.”For twenty-one years Fin MacCumhail and the Fenians of Erin hunted for sport alone. They had the best of eating from the small knife of division, and the best of drinking from the cup that was never dry. At the end of twenty-one years Dubh, Dun, and Glasán went away, and one day, as Fin and the Fenians of Erin were hunting on the hills and mountains, they saw a Fear Ruadh (a red haired man) coming toward them.“There is a bright looking man coming this way,” said Fin, “and don’t you speak to him.”“Oh, what do we care for him?” asked Conan Maol.“Don’t be rude to a stranger,” said Fin.The Fear Ruadh came forward and spoke to no man till he stood before Fin.“What have you come for?” asked Fin.“To find a master for twenty-one years.”“What wages do you ask?” inquired Fin.“No wages but this,—that if I die before the twenty-one years have passed, I shall be buried on Inis Caol (Light Island).”“I’ll give you those wages,” said Fin, and he hired the Fear Ruadh for twenty-one years.He served Fin for twenty years to his satisfaction; but toward the end of the twenty-first year he fell into a decline, became an old man, and died.When the Fear Ruadh was dead, the Fenians of Erin said that not a step would they go to bury him; but Fin declared that he wouldn’t break his word for any man, and must take the corpse to Inis Caol.Fin had an old white horse which he had turned out to find a living for himself as he could on the hillsides and in the woods. And now he looked for the horse and found that he had become younger than older in looks since he had put him out. So he took the old white horse and tied a coffin, with the body of the Fear Ruadh in it, on his back. Then they started him on ahead and away he went followed by Fin and twelve men of the Fenians of Erin.When they came to the temple on Inis Caol there were no signs of the white horse and the coffin; but the temple was open and in went Fin and the twelve.There were seats for each man inside. They sat down and rested awhile and then Fin tried to rise but couldn’t. He told the men to rise, but the twelve were fastened to the seats, and the seats to the ground, so that not a man of them could come to his feet.“Oh,” said Fin, “I’m in dread there is some evil trick played on us.”At that moment the Fear Ruadh stood before them in all his former strength and youth and said: “Now is the time for me to take satisfaction out of you for my mother and brothers,” Then one of the men said to Fin, “Chew your thumb to know is there any way out of this.”Fin chewed his thumb to know what should he do. When he knew, he blew the great whistle with his two hands; which was heard by Donogh Kamcosa and Diarmuid O’Duivne.The Fear Ruadh fell to and killed three of the men; but before he could touch the fourth Donogh and Diarmuid were there, and put an end to him. Now all were free, and Fin with the nine men went back to their castle south of Ballyshannon.
There was once a king in Ireland, and he had three daughters, and very nice princesses they were. And one day, when they and their father were walking on the lawn, the king began to joke with them, and to ask them whom they would like to be married to. ‘I’ll have the king of Ulster for a husband,’ says one; ‘and I’ll have the king of Munster,’ says another; ‘and,’ says the youngest, ‘I’ll have no husband but the Brown Bear of Norway.’“The brown bear.” Illustration by Joseph Martin Kronheim, published in The Child’s Picture Book of Wild and Domestic Animals by Unknown Author (1872), George Routledge and Sons.For a nurse of hers used to be telling her of an enchanted prince that she called by that name, and she fell in love with him, and his name was the first name on her tongue, for the very night before she was dreaming of him. Well, one laughed, and another laughed, and they joked with the princess all the rest of the evening. But that very night she woke up out of her sleep in a great hall that was lighted up with a thousand lamps; the richest carpets were on the floor, and the walls were covered with cloth of gold and silver, and the place was full of grand company, and the very beautiful prince she saw in her dreams was there, and it wasn’t a moment till he was on one knee before her, and telling her how much he loved her, and asking her wouldn’t she be his queen. Well, she hadn’t the heart to refuse him, and married they were the same evening.‘Now, my darling,’ says he, when they were left by themselves, ‘you must know that I am under enchantment. A sorceress, that had a beautiful daughter, wished me for her son-in-law; but the mother got power over me, and when I refused to wed her daughter she made me take the form of a bear by day, and I was to continue so till a lady would marry me of her own free will, and endure five years of great trials after.’Well, when the princess woke in the morning, she missed her husband from her side, and spent the day very sadly. But as soon as the lamps were lighted in the grand hall, where she was sitting on a sofa covered with silk, the folding doors flew open, and he was sitting by her side the next minute. So they spent another happy evening, but he warned her that whenever she began to tire of him, or ceased to have faith in him, they would be parted for ever, and he’d be obliged to marry the witch’s daughter.She got used to find him absent by day, and they spent a happy twelvemonth together, and at last a beautiful little boy was born; and happy as she was before, she was twice as happy now, for she had her child to keep her company in the day when she couldn’t see her husband.At last, one evening, when herself, and himself, and her child were sitting with a window open because it was a sultry night, in flew an eagle, took the infant’s sash in his beak, and flew up in the air with him. She screamed, and was going to throw herself out the window after him, but the prince caught her, and looked at her very seriously. She bethought of what he said soon after their marriage, and she stopped the cries and complaints that were on her tongue. She spent her days very lonely for another twelvemonth, when a beautiful little girl was sent to her. Then she thought to herself she’d have a sharp eye about her this time; so she never would allow a window to be more than a few inches open.But all her care was in vain. Another evening, when they were all so happy, and the prince dandling the baby, a beautiful greyhound stood before them, took the child out of the father’s hand, and was out of the door before you could wink. This time she shouted and ran out of the room, but there were some of the servants in the next room, and all declared that neither child nor dog passed out. She felt, somehow, as if it was her husband’s fault, but still she kept command over herself, and didn’t once reproach him.When the third child was born she would hardly allow a window or a door to be left open for a moment; but she wasn’t the nearer to keep the child to herself. They were sitting one evening by the fire, when a lady appeared standing by them. The princess opened her eyes in a great fright and stared at her, and while she was doing so, the lady wrapped a shawl round the baby that was sitting in its father’s lap, and either sank through the ground with it or went up through the wide chimney. This time the mother kept her bed for a month.‘My dear,’ said she to her husband, when she was beginning to recover, ‘I think I’d feel better if I was to see my father and mother and sisters once more. If you give me leave to go home for a few days I’d be glad.’ ‘Very well,’ said he, ‘I will do that, and whenever you feel inclined to return, only mention your wish when you lie down at night.’ The next morning when she awoke she found herself in her own old chamber in her father’s palace. She rang the bell, and in a short time she had her mother and father and married sisters about her, and they laughed till they cried for joy at finding her safe back again.In time she told them all that had happened to her, and they didn’t know what to advise her to do. She was as fond of her husband as ever, and said she was sure that he couldn’t help letting the children go; but still she was afraid beyond the world to have another child torn from her. Well, the mother and sisters consulted a wise woman that used to bring eggs to the castle, for they had great faith in her wisdom. She said the only plan was to secure the bear’s skin that the prince was obliged to put on every morning, and get it burned, and then he couldn’t help being a man night and day, and the enchantment would be at an end.So they all persuaded her to do that, and she promised she would; and after eight days she felt so great a longing to see her husband again that she made the wish the same night, and when she woke three hours after, she was in her husband’s palace, and he himself was watching over her. There was great joy on both sides, and they were happy for many days.Now she began to think how she never minded her husband leaving her in the morning, and how she never found him neglecting to give her a sweet drink out of a gold cup just as she was going to bed.One night she contrived not to drink any of it, though she pretended to do so; and she was wakeful enough in the morning, and saw her husband passing out through a panel in the wainscot, though she kept her eyelids nearly closed. The next night she got a few drops of the sleepy posset that she saved the evening before put into her husband’s night drink, and that made him sleep sound enough. She got up after midnight, passed through the panel, and found a Beautiful brown bear’s hide hanging in the corner. Then she stole back, and went down to the parlour fire, and put the hide into the middle of it till it was all fine ashes. She then lay down by her husband, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and fell asleep.If she was to live a hundred years she’d never forget how she wakened next morning, and found her husband looking down on her with misery and anger in his face. ‘Unhappy woman,’ said he, ‘you have separated us for ever! Why hadn’t you patience for five years? I am now obliged, whether I like or no, to go a three days’ journey to the witch’s castle, and marry her daughter. The skin that was my guard you have burned it, and the egg-wife that gave you the counsel was the witch herself. I won’t reproach you: your punishment will be severe without it. Farewell for ever!’He kissed her for the last time, and was off the next minute, walking as fast as he could. She shouted after him, and then seeing there was no use, she dressed herself and pursued him. He never stopped, nor stayed, nor looked back, and still she kept him in sight; and when he was on the hill she was in the hollow, and when he was in the hollow she was on the hill. Her life was almost leaving her, when, just as the sun was setting, he turned up a lane, and went into a little house. She crawled up after him, and when she got inside there was a beautiful little boy on his knees, and he kissing and hugging him. ‘Here, my poor darling,’ says he, ‘is your eldest child, and there,’ says he, pointing to a woman that was looking on with a smile on her face, ‘is the eagle that carried him away.’ She forgot all her sorrows in a moment, hugging her child, and laughing and crying over him. The woman washed their feet, and rubbed them with an ointment that took all the soreness out of their bones, and made them as fresh as a daisy. Next morning, just before sunrise, he was up, and prepared to be off, ‘Here,’ said he to her, ‘is a thing which may be of use to you. It’s a scissors, and whatever stuff you cut with it will be turned into silk. The moment the sun rises, I’ll lose all memory of yourself and the children, but I’ll get it at sunset again. Farewell!’ But he wasn’t far gone till she was in sight of him again, leaving her boy behind. It was the same to- day as yesterday: their shadows went before them in the morning and followed them in the evening. He never stopped, and she never stopped, and as the sun was setting he turned up another lane, and there they found their little daughter. It was all joy and comfort again till morning, and then the third day’s journey commenced.But before he started he gave her a comb, and told her that whenever she used it, pearls and diamonds would fall from her hair. Still he had his memory from sunset to sunrise; but from sunrise to sunset he travelled on under the charm, and never threw his eye behind. This night they came to where the youngest baby was, and the next morning, just before sunrise, the prince spoke to her for the last time. ‘Here, my poor wife,’ said he, ‘is a little hand-reel, with gold thread that has no end, and the half of our marriage ring. If you ever get to my house, and put your half-ring to mine, I shall recollect you. There is a wood yonder, and the moment I enter it I shall forget everything that ever happened between us, just as if I was born yesterday. Farewell, dear wife and child, for ever!’ Just then the sun rose, and away he walked towards the wood. She saw it open before him and close after him, and when she came up, she could no more get in than she could break through a stone wall. She wrung her hands and shed tears, but then she recollected herself, and cried out, ‘Wood, I charge you by my three magic gifts, the scissors, the comb, and the reel–to let me through’; and it opened, and she went along a walk till she came in sight of a palace, and a lawn, and a woodman’s cottage on the edge of the wood where it came nearest the palace.She went into the lodge, and asked the woodman and his wife to take her into their service. They were not willing at first; but she told them she would ask no wages, and would give them diamonds, and pearls, and silk stuffs, and gold thread whenever they wished for them, and then they agreed to let her stay.It wasn’t long till she heard how a young prince, that was just arrived, was living in the palace of the young mistress. He seldom stirred abroad, and every one that saw him remarked how silent and sorrowful he went about, like a person that was searching for some lost thing.The servants and conceited folk at the big house began to take notice of the beautiful young woman at the lodge, and to annoy her with their impudence. The head footman was the most troublesome, and at last she invited him to come and take tea with her. Oh, how rejoiced he was, and how he bragged of it in the servants’ hall! Well, the evening came, and the footman walked into the lodge, and was shown to her sitting-room; for the lodge-keeper and his wife stood in great awe of her, and gave her two nice rooms for herself. Well, he sat down as stiff as a ramrod, and was talking in a grand style about the great doings at the castle, while she was getting the tea and toast ready. ‘Oh,’ says she to him, ‘would you put your hand out at the window and cut me off a sprig or two of honeysuckle?’ He got up in great glee, and put out his hand and head; and said she, ‘By the virtue of my magic gifts, let a pair of horns spring out of your head, and sing to the lodge.’ Just as she wished, so it was. They sprung from the front of each ear, and met at the back. Oh, the poor wretch! And how he bawled and roared! and the servants that he used to be boasting to were soon flocking from the castle, and grinning, and huzzaing, and beating tunes on tongs and shovels and pans; and he cursing and swearing, and the eyes ready to start out of his head, and he so black in the face, and kicking out his legs behind him like mad.At last she pitied him, and removed the charm, and the horns dropped down on the ground, and he would have killed her on the spot, only he was as weak as water, and his fellow-servants came in and carried him up to the big house. Well, some way or other the story came to the ears of the prince, and he strolled down that way. She had only the dress of a countrywoman on her as she sat sewing at the window, but that did not hide her beauty, and he was greatly puzzled after he had a good look, just as a body is puzzled to know whether something happened to him when he was young or if he only dreamed it. Well, the witch’s daughter heard about it too, and she came to see the strange girl; and what did she find her doing but cutting out the pattern of a gown from brown paper; and as she cut away, the paper became the richest silk she ever saw. The witch’s daughter looked on with greedy eyes, and, says she, ‘What would you be satisfied to take for that scissors?’ ‘I’ll take nothing,’ says she, ‘but leave to spend one night outside the prince’s chamber.’ Well, the proud lady fired up, and was going to say something dreadful; but the scissors kept on cutting, and the silk growing richer and richer every inch. So she promised what the girl had asked her.When night came on she was let into the palace and lay down till the prince was in such a dead sleep that all she did couldn’t awake him. She sung this verse to him, sighing and sobbing, and kept singing it the night long, and it was all in vain:Four long years I was married to thee; Three sweet babes I bore to thee; Brown Bear of Norway, turn to me.At the first dawn the proud lady was in the chamber, and led her away, and the footman of the horns put out his tongue at her as she was quitting the palace.So there was no luck so far; but the next day the prince passed by again and looked at her, and saluted her kindly, as a prince might a farmer’s daughter, and passed one; and soon the witch’s daughter passed by, and found her combing her hair, and pearls and diamonds dropping from it.Well, another bargain was made, and the princess spent another night of sorrow, and she left the castle at daybreak, and the footman was at his post and enjoyed his revenge.The third day the prince went by, and stopped to talk with the strange woman. He asked her could he do anything to serve her, and she said he might. She asked him did he ever wake at night. He said that he often did, but that during the last two nights he was listening to a sweet song in his dreams, and could not wake, and that the voice was one that he must have known and loved in some other world long ago. Says she, ‘Did you drink any sleepy posset either of these evenings before you went to bed?’ ‘I did,’ said he. ‘The two evenings my wife gave me something to drink, but I don’t know whether it was a sleepy posset or not.’ ‘Well, prince,’ said she, ‘as you say you would wish to oblige me, you can do it by not tasting any drink to-night.’ ‘I will not,’ says he, and then he went on his walk.Well, the great lady came soon after the prince, and found the stranger using her hand-reel and winding threads of gold off it, and the third bargain was made.That evening the prince was lying on his bed at twilight, and his mind much disturbed; and the door opened, and in his princess walked, and down she sat by his bedside and sung:Four long years I was married to thee; Three sweet babes I bore to thee; Brown Bear of Norway, turn to me.‘Brown Bear of Norway !’ said he. ‘I don’t understand you.’ ‘Don’t you remember, prince, that I was your wedded wife for four years?’ ‘I do not,’ said he, ‘but I’m sure I wish it was so.’ ‘Don’t you remember our three babes that are still alive?’ ‘Show me them. My mind is all a heap of confusion.’ ‘Look for the half of our marriage ring, that hangs at your neck, and fit it to this.’ He did so, and the same moment the charm was broken. His full memory came back on him, and he flung his arms round his wife’s neck, and both burst into tears.Well, there was a great cry outside, and the castle walls were heard splitting and cracking. Everyone in the castle was alarmed, and made their way out. The prince and princess went with the rest, and by the time all were safe on the lawn, down came the building, and made the ground tremble for miles round. No one ever saw the witch and her daughter afterwards. It was not long till the prince and princess had their children with them, and then they set out for their own palace. The kings of Ireland and of Munster and Ulster, and their wives, soon came to visit them, and may every one that deserves it be as happy as the Brown Bear of Norway and his family.
Once upon a time there was a king who had no children. But he employed a vizier who had three daughters. The wives of the two men were the best of friends. One day, they went into the garden to spend the day there and while they were eating and drinking together, the queen said to the wife of the vizier: “You have three daughters. If I only had a son, we could be in-laws, because we are such close friends.” She replied: “How nice it would be if you had a son, but unfortunately, God did not give you a son.” The queen cried out: “I wish that God would give me a son, even he were only a snake.”That evening, the queen slept with the king and her body was blessed, and when the time came, she bore a snake as she had wished. The snake grew rapidly and one day said to its mother: “Listen, mother, do you remember what you said to the vizier’s wife when you were in the garden together? I want to marry one of her daughters. Go and ask her to give me her eldest daughter.”The mother got up and went to the vizier’s wife and said: “Give me your eldest daughter as a wife for my son.” She replied: “What? You want me to give my daughter in marriage to a snake? That will never happen. Go home and do not raise the matter again.” The queen went back to her son sadly and said: “She will not have you.”Several years passed. The snake then asked his mother again: “Listen, mother, go and ask the vizier’s wife to give me her second daughter in marriage.” The mother went to see the vizier’s wife again. “My son has sent me and asks for your second daughter.” The wife got very angry and said: “Go away and never ask me again to give a daughter of mine to a snake.” The queen was disappointed and returned to her son, saying: “She will not have you.”Another few years passed, and the snake asked his mother again: “Listen, mother, go and ask the vizier’s wife to give me her youngest daughter in marriage. If she does not agree, I will slither into her house one night and kill them all.” The queen set off again to see the vizier’s wife and conveyed her son’s request in tears. When the vizier’s wife heard what she had to say, she was terrified and did not know what to do. If she did not give her daughter away, she was afraid the daughter would be killed. So she called her daughter and asked her: “Listen, my child. Will you marry the queen’s snake?” The daughter replied: “I will think about it.”The maiden then went off to see an old wise woman and told her what had happened, asking: “What should I do?” The old woman replied: “Say yes, girl, because it is not a snake, it is a man who has no equals on earth. But on the night of your marriage, you must wear forty blouses because the snake has forty skins. When you go to bed and the snake says: ‘Get undressed,’ you must say, ‘you get undressed, too!’ Your husband will take off one skin and you must take off one blouse at the same time. You must continue until he has taken off all forty skins, and only then will you see what a handsome man he is.”When the maiden returned from the old woman, she said to her mother: “Dear mother, I will marry the snake.” The mother cried out: “Oh, oh, my poor daughter. Are you not afraid to sleep with a snake?” The maiden replied: “Do not worry, it is not your business.” When the mother realised that her daughter was serious about the matter, she sent a message to the queen and told her to prepare for the engagement and for the wedding festivities. On Sunday the queen set off, taking the rings and the snake coiled in a basket with her. The engagement and wedding festivities were held.When the newly married couple went to bed, the snake said to its bride: “Take off your clothes,” and she replied: “you take off yours, too.” One by one, they took off the forty skins and the forty blouses, and when the snake was naked, it turned out to be a handsome young man. They then slept together and the body of the young woman was blessed.The next morning, the young man crawled back into his forty skins and said to the young woman: “Never tell anyone that I am really a man until you give birth. Then we will let everyone know, but if you tell anyone beforehand, I will slither into a hole and vanish, and you will lose me forever.” The young woman replied: “Do not worry. I will not betray you.” But she had problems with her mother who constantly insisted on knowing how she could live with a snake and how she got pregnant. The young woman replied only that she was fine and for eight months she resisted all temptation to speak. One day, however, the mother was so insistent that she could keep her secret no longer, and blurted out: “Mother, perhaps you think it is a snake, but perhaps it is really a man unequalled on earth.” The moment she spoke, she regretted having done so, but it was too late. That same night, the snake sealed her womb and departed.The young woman waited all night, all the following day, a week, and then a month, but her husband did not return. She was in great despair, she wept and moaned and cried, and did not know what to do. Finally, she decided to go out in search of her husband. Dressed in the garments of a nun, she wandered around at random. When she had wandered for some time, she came upon an old woman who asked her: “Where are you off to, my child?” The young woman told her what had happened: “My husband has left me and I am off in search of him.” The old woman replied: “Climb up to the top of that mountain. On it there is a pond of stagnant water in which worms and other bugs are floating. You must drink the water there and say: “What delicious water!” And while you are standing at the edge of the pond, you must exclaim three times: “Earth, open up and devour me as you devoured my husband!” The earth will then open up and you must go down into it. When you get to the bottom, you will find the sisters of the sun and they will tell you where your husband is.”The young woman climbed up the mountain that the old woman had shown her and found the pond of stagnant water. She drank the water and said: “What delicious, crystal-clear water!” and then she exclaimed three times: “Earth, open up and devour me as you devoured my husband!” The earth then opened up and she climbed down into it and came across the younger sister of the sun who was standing at the oven and baking bread. To wipe the oven, she used her breasts, and she shovelled the coal with her bare hands. When the young woman saw her, she took pity on her and went off in search of a rag and a shovel for her. The sister of the sun was very happy with this and asked the girl: “How can I pay you back for the kindness you have shown me?” “I ask only that you tell me how I can find my husband, because he left me,” and she explained what had happened. The sister of the sun replied: “go up there a bit, where you will find my elder sister. She will tell you where your husband is.”The young woman carried on and came to the other sister of the sun who, like the first one, was cleaning the oven with her breasts and licking it with her tongue. The young woman searched around and found another rag and another shovel, and brought them to her. The sister of the sun was very happy about this and said: “Tell me, my friend, what can I give you to pay you back for the kindness you have shown me?” The woman answered: “I ask only that you tell me where my husband is, because he left me and I cannot find him.”The sister of the sun gave the woman a walnut, a hazelnut and an almond, and said: “Take these and carry on a bit further. You will reach the house where your husband is living, but he is married to another woman.” The young woman continued on her way until she reached her destination. She entered and said to the lady of the house: “Good woman, do you perchance have a small cottage in which I could live as a nun?” The lady gave her a small cottage near the place where a coppersmith lived.The next morning the nun cracked the walnut given to her by the sister of the sun. Out of it emerged a golden hen with golden chicks that chirped and scuttled back and forth around her. When the young woman’s maid saw the birds, she ran home and said to her mistress: “Lady, the nun has a beautiful golden hen with golden chicks! They are so sweet. Let us buy them. What would a nun want with them?” When the lady of the house heard this, she was curious and said: “Go back and ask her how much she wants for them.”The maid went back to the nun and said: “Listen, milady, how much do you want for the golden hen?” The young woman replied: “It is not for sale, but I will give it to you as a present if your mistress gives me her husband for one night.” The maid returned to her mistress and told her what the nun had said, adding: “We should give her the lord for one night. After all, she will not eat him. Before he goes, we will give him a sleeping potion.” The lady of the house did not like the idea at first, but the maid talked and talked until she gave in.When the lord was ready for bed that night, they gave him a sleeping potion and when he was sound asleep, they carried him to the nun’s cottage and received the golden hen and the golden chicks in exchange.All night long, while the lord was sleeping beside the nun, she called out: “Give me the silver key so that I can give birth to the golden child!” But all her calls were in vain. The lord did not wake up and at dawn, the lady sent her servants to the nun to retrieve him.The nun then cracked the hazelnut, and out of it emerged a golden parrot. When the maid saw the bird, she ran back to her mistress, crying: “Lady, what a beautiful parrot the nun has! It is all in gold. Let us buy it. What use is a parrot to her?” The lady replied: “Go and ask her how much she wants for it.” The maid went back to the nun and asked her. The reply was the same. “I want the lord for one night.” That night, they gave the lord a sleeping potion again and took him to the nun, where they received the parrot in exchange. Once again, the nun cried out all night: “Give me the silver key so that I can give birth to the golden child!” All of her calls were once more in vain. The lord did not wake up and at dawn, the wife sent for him and took him back.The coppersmith who lived near the nun had not been able to sleep because of the noise the nun had made on those two nights. The next morning, he went to the lord and said: “Master, forgive me for being so bold, but I must tell you something. The foreign nun has kept me awake for two nights. She is deafening me with her constant cries of ‘Give me the silver key so that I can give birth to the golden child!’ What can she possibly mean?” The lord replied: “Who knows what suffering the poor woman has gone through.” But he remembered the words of the coppersmith and began to suspect who the nun was.The next morning, the nun cracked the almond that she had received from the sister of the sun, and out of it emerged a golden cradle. When the maid saw the cradle, she ran back to her mistress and said: “Lady, the foreign nun has a beautiful golden cradle. I cannot take my eyes off it. Let us buy it for the children. Why would a nun need a cradle?”“Go and ask her what she wants for it.” The maid went to the nun and asked: “How much do you want for the cradle?” The reply was the same: “It is not for sale. All I want is to sleep with the lord tonight.” The maid returned home and said: “She will not take money. All she wants is to spend another night with the lord.”When the lady heard this, she was furious and shouted: “Let the Devil take her! I will not let her have my husband anymore.” But the maid gave her no peace. “Let us give him to her once more for the golden cradle. She did not eat him the other two times when he spent the night with her.” After much persuasion, the lady agreed: “Alright, let her have him one more time.” The maid went to the nun and told her, and received the cradle in exchange.But when the lord went to bed that evening and they gave him the sleeping potion, he suspected something was amiss and thought of what the coppersmith had told him. He turned over on his side and poured the potion into a sponge which he hid. He then pretended to sleep and they carried him off to the nun’s cottage. When the nun was alone with him, she began calling out once again: “Give me the silver key so that I can give birth to the golden child!” He let her call for a while and then said: “Rise and get dressed. We must be off.”He took her to the stable, brought out two fine horses, put her on one of them and mounted the other himself. Then they rode off to the place where the earth opens up. Three times he called out: “Earth, open up. We want to go out.” The earth then opened and let them out. As soon as they got to the Upper World, her womb was unsealed and she bore a son, a beautiful child who was already nine years old.They then rode back to her father’s palace and celebrated. A great wedding feast was held where they ate and drank, and lived happily ever after.It is not all true, but it is not all false either.
There was a man called DOnWEnWA. This man wouldn’t let anyone come into his house. He had two nephews old enough to hunt small game: birds, squirrels and coons. The boys lived in a house near their uncle’s and each morning he called to them, saying, “Up, boys! or the game will be gone.” The boys jumped up and were off.One day the younger boy heard something making a noise. He listened and listened and at last found that the noise came from the ground. He ran to his brother, and said, “Come and help me dig. I hear a noise down in the ground.”The brother went to the place with him and they began to dig with sharp sticks. When they got down some distance they found a hollow and in it a little child.“This is the best luck we’ve had yet,” said the elder boy. “This will be our brother, but I’m afraid our uncle will find out about him; if he does he’ll kill him and eat him.”“We’ll try to save him, we’ll fix it so our uncle won’t find him,” said the younger boy.They carried the child home. That night the uncle woke up, stretched himself, and said, “I think my nephews have found game, I hear it breathing. I’ll go and ask them.” He stuck his head in at their door, and asked, “Well, boys, have you any game?”“No,” answered the younger brother.“I hear it breathing.”“How can you tell? There are two of us here.”“I hear three breathing.”“If you know there are three, you may as well kill us.”“Our people don’t allow a man to kill his nephews.”“Well, you’ll not kill our brother,” said the younger nephew. “If you kill him you must kill us.”The old man went home, but came back and stuck his head in again. “You might as well give me that boy,” said he.“If you kill him, you’ll kill us,” answered the elder nephew.When the old man found that his nephews wouldn’t give him the child, he promised not to harm it.All went well for a time, then the younger brother said, “I think we had better go away and leave our uncle.”“We can’t leave him,” said the elder.“Why can’t we?”“He would follow us.”“We can try to get away. We are not safe here.”They gathered dry sticks and piled them up near the house. Then one morning they set the sticks on fire and running around on the house top they jumped into the smoke, and it carried them up and away. After a while they came to the ground and hid under a big stone.That night DOnWEnWA thought the boys were very quiet. He went to their house, stuck his head in and found that they were gone.“Oh, my poor nephews!” said he. “They think they can get away from me.”He tracked them to the top of the house and found that they jumped into the blaze and went off in the smoke. Then he went straight to the stone where they were and struck the stone with a dadishe (sort of cane). The stone split open and he found the three boys.“Come out, boys,” said he, “we’ll go home. You should stay at home, not try to go away from me.”When the boys were back in their own house the second brother asked, “Haven’t we any relatives except this old man?”“We have,” said the elder brother. “We have another uncle worse looking and crosser than this one, and we have aunts.”“Can’t we go and see our uncle?”“We can, but we must ask this uncle how to go.”The younger brother went to the old man, struck him with a mallet, and said, “I want you to tell me how I can go and see my uncle in the East?”“You have no uncle in the East.”“Yes, I have.”“You have no uncle there, or if you have he is very cross. He is HATDEDASES (Whirlwind maker). He’ll kill us all if he comes here. But you can go and see him if you are able to draw a bow that I will make for you.”The old man made a strong bow and a big double-headed arrow and told his nephews to try it. The elder brother took the bow first and couldn’t bend it; the younger brother bent it easily. Then the uncle gave him the arrow, and said, pointing to a great hickory tree, “Shoot that.” He shot and the arrow split the tree.Then the old man said, “That will do. You may go and try to see your Uncle DAGWANOEnYENT (or HATDEDASES). If he sees you before you shoot him, he’ll say ‘Ogongahgeni,’ and fly off. If you succeed in shooting him before he sees you, pick up the arrow and shoot again then he’ll ask you what you want, and you’ll answer ‘I want you to come and live with us. We’ll give you plenty of rocks and hickory sticks to eat, and make you a nest to lie in.'”The boy started and after traveling a long distance came to a place where he heard a great noise; cracking and gnawing. He called his medicine mole and told it to make a trail under the ground to the place the noise came from and he would follow in the trail.DAGWANOEnYENT stopped gnawing and listened; the mole stopped. The old man gnawed again; mole went on. A second time the old man stopped and listened; the mole stopped. And so it went on till mole was straight in front of DAGWANOEnYENT. Then he made a hole and the boy came to the top of the ground, drew his bow and hit his uncle in the middle of the forehead; the arrow rebounded, he caught it and shot again. The third time he shot DAGWANOEnYENT called out, “I give up, what do you want?”“I want you to come and live with us, we’ll give you plenty of rocks and hickory sticks to eat and a good nest to live in. If you don’t come, I’ll shoot you again.”DAGWANOEnYENT said, “Go and fix the nest, and gather rocks and sticks for me to eat, and I’ll come.”The boy went home and he and his brother and uncle put up a strong platform and on top of it they made a nest. When all was ready the old man came and settled on the nest.Once when the two boys were out hunting the younger boy heard a noise off in the South. While he stood listening, a False Face ran toward him. The boy was frightened; he darted around trees and tried to get away. At last, when he was getting tired, he called loudly, “Haknosen DOnWEnWA gadjionegaqdianh (DOnWEnWA, if you don’t come, I shall be killed).”That minute DOnWEnWA was there, and saying, “I’ll save you,” he struck False Face with his onwe and killed him.Now the old man told his nephews never to go toward the South, that in the South there were bad women, who would kill them.After a time the elder nephew thought he would go toward the South and see if anything would happen to him. When he had traveled a long distance, he heard some one singing, and, going toward the voice, through the dense woods, he came to an opening, and at the farther end of the opening saw the singer, Her songsaid, “A young boy is coming for me. He has no power; he can’t come where I am.”When the boy heard this he was angry, and said, “She isn’t strong enough to keep me back, I’ll go there and pound her.”He doubled up his fist and ran toward the woman. She didn’t look up, kept on singing. When he came to where she was sitting, he struck her a heavy blow, but instead of falling over, she said, “Ha! ha! who touches me?” That minute the boy fell to the ground dead.The woman straightened out the body and talked to it, saying, “Poor boy, you thought you could kill me, now you are dead.” She pushed the body a little to one side and kept on singing.When the boy didn’t come home, his brother went to hunt for him. He tracked him till he came to where he had stood and listened to the singing. He heard the same song and looking across the opening saw the woman and his brother’s body. He was angry and doubling up his fist he ran across the opening and struck the woman a heavy blow on her head.“Ha, ha! Who touches me?” growled she. That minute the boy fell to the ground, dead. She straightened out the body and kept on singing.The third boy, the boy the brothers had dug out of the ground, went to look for the other two and was killed as they had been.That night DOnWEnWA wondered why he heard no breathing at the other house, wondered if the boys had run away again. Going to the house he stuck his head in and seeing no one, said, “They can’t get away from me, I’ll find them, wherever they are.”The next morning he went toward the South till he came to the place where the boys stood and listened to the woman’s song. When he saw the woman and the three bodies he said, “You’ve killed my nephews, now I’ll kill you!” And running to the woman he gave her a terrible blow and before she had a chance to say anything he gave her a second and a third blow; but then she got a chance to call out, “Ha! ha! who touches me?” and that instant the old man grew weak and died.Now DAGWANOEnYENT missed his brother and nephews. “My brother,” said he, “thinks that he has great power but he hasn’t, maybe he has been killed by that woman in the South, I’ll go and find him.”He followed the tracks of his nephews and brother till he came to the clearing and saw the woman sitting on the ground singing. He flew at her and struck such a heavy blow that she had no chance to speak, he hit her a second and third blow then his hair began to fall out, his strength was in his long hair–but he kept striking, The woman had no chance to speak and at last hi I her. Then he called to his brother and nephews, “Get up, you ought to be ashamed to lie there.”The four came to life and went home. They lived on; quietly for a while, then the younger brother said that lid, was going to travel around the world and see what he’ could find, and he started off toward the East. After traveling some distance, he saw a hut and going into it found an old blind man, and began to torment him.The old man said, “My brothers will come soon and then you’ll stop abusing me.”The boy thought he would go before the other men came. He spent the night under a tree and the next day he traveled till nearly sundown, then came to a house, There was an old man in the house, who said, “I’m glad you have come; I want to gamble with plum stones.”“What will you bet?” asked the boy.“I always bet heads. If you beat me, you’ll cut off my head; if I beat, I’ll cut off your head.”The old man had a stone bowl and some plum stones. The boy threw first, and lost, then the old man threw and lost, but in the end the boy won, and cut off the old man’s head; then he went on. Soon he saw a wasp’s nest hanging from the limb of a tree. He stopped up the hole in the nest, and cutting off the limb carried it along with him in a bundle. He hadn’t gone far when he saw a great many people coming toward him. He wanted to pass them but they ‘caught hold of him, and said “You are only a boy. We are going to kill you.”“You must wait a while,” said the boy. “When any one is going to be killed it is the custom to let him do something first.” He put down his bundle, and said, “Tear it open if you want to.”They snatched up the bundle and tore it open. The wasps flew at them, and in the excitement they forgot the boy, who ran off as fast as he could, and this time he ran toward home. When he came in sight of his uncle’s house things looked strange; he didn’t see DAGWANOEnYENT’s nest. Then he found that his uncles and brothers were gone, He searched for tracks and finding none he began to mourn and he mourned till at last he changed to a red fox.The woman in the South was Summer, the boys Autumn and old Cyclone, who at last conquered her was Winter.
The “old powder-house,” as the round stone tower is called that stands on a gravel ridge in Somerville, Massachusetts, is so named because at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War it was used temporarily as a magazine; but long before that it was a wind-mill. Here in the old days two lovers held their tryst: a sturdy and honest young farmer of the neighborhood and the daughter of a man whose wealth puffed him with purse-pride. It was the plebeian state of the farmer that made him look at him with an unfavorable countenance, and when it was whispered to him that the young people were meeting each other almost every evening at the mill, he resolved to surprise them there and humiliate, if he did not punish them. From the shadow of the door they saw his approach, and, yielding to the girl’s imploring, the lover secreted himself while she climbed to the loft. The flutter of her dress caught the old man’s eye and he hastened, panting, into the mill. For some moments he groped about, for his eyes had not grown used to the darkness of the place, and hearing his muttered oaths, the girl crept backward from the stair.She was beginning to hope that she had not been seen, when her foot caught in a loose board and she stumbled, but in her fall she threw out her hand to save herself and found a rope within her grasp. Directly that her weight had been applied to it there was a whir and a clank. The cord had set the great fans in motion. At the same moment a fall was heard, then a cry, passing from anger into anguish. She rushed down the stair, the lover appeared from his hiding-place at the same moment, and together they dragged the old man to his feet. At the moment when the wind had started the sails he had been standing on one of the mill-stones and the sudden jerk had thrown him down. His arm caught between the grinding surfaces and had been crushed to pulp. He was carried home and tenderly nursed, but he did not live long; yet before he died he was made to see the folly of his course, and he consented to the marriage that it had cost him so dear to try to prevent. Before she could summon heart to fix the wedding-day the girl passed many months of grief and repentance, and for the rest of her life she avoided the old mill. There was good reason for doing so, people said, for on windy nights the spirit of the old man used to haunt the place, using such profanity that it became visible in the form of blue lights, dancing and exploding about the building.
Once upon a time lived a peasant and his wife, and the parson of the village had a fancy for the wife, and had wished for a long while to spend a whole day happily with her, and the the peasant woman, too, was quite willing. One day, therefore, he said to the woman, “Listen, my dear friend, I have now thought of a way by which we can for once spend a whole day happily together. I’ll tell you what; on Wednesday, you must take to your bed, and tell your husband you are ill, and if you only complain and act being ill properly, and go on doing so until Sunday when I have to preach, I will then say in my sermon that whosoever has at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, brother or whosoever else it may be, and makes a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where you can get a peck of laurel-leaves for a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, or sick mother, the sick sister, or whosoever else it may be, will be restored to health immediately.”“I will manage it,” said the woman directly. Now therefore, on the Wednesday, the peasant woman took to her bed, and complained and lamented as agreed on, and her husband did everything for her that he could think of, but nothing did her any good, and when Sunday came the woman said, “I feel as ill as if I were going to die at once, but there is one thing I should like to do before my end — I should like to hear the parson’s sermon that he is going to preach to-day.” On that the peasant said, “Ah, my child, do not do it — thou mightest make thyself worse if thou wert to get up. Look, I will go to the sermon, and will attend to it very carefully, and will tell thee everything the parson says.”“Well,” said the woman, “go, then, and pay great attention, and repeat to me all that thou hearest.” So the peasant went to the sermon, and the parson began to preach and said, if any one had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, brother or any one else, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or whosoever else it might be, would be restored to health instantly, and whosoever wished to undertake the journey was to go to him after the service was over, and he would give him the sack for the laurel-leaves and the kreuzer. Then no one was more rejoiced than the peasant, and after the service was over, he went at once to the parson, who gave him the bag for the laurel-leaves and the kreuzer. After that he went home, and even at the house door he cried, “Hurrah! dear wife, it is now almost the same thing as if thou wert well! The parson has preached to-day that whosoever had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, brother or whoever it might be, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or whosoever else it was, would be cured immediately, and now I have already got the bag and the kreuzer from the parson, and will at once begin my journey so that thou mayst get well the faster,” and thereupon he went away. He was, however, hardly gone before the woman got up, and the parson was there directly.But now we will leave these two for a while, and follow the peasant, who walked on quickly without stopping, in order to get the sooner to the Göckerli hill, and on his way he met his gossip. His gossip was an egg-merchant, and was just coming from the market, where he had sold his eggs. “May you be blessed,” said the gossip, “where are you off to so fast?”“To all eternity, my friend,” said the peasant, “my wife is ill, and I have been to-day to hear the parson’s sermon, and he preached that if any one had in his house a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, brother or any one else, and made a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick mother, the sick sister, brother, or whosoever else it was, would be cured immediately, and so I have got the bag for the laurel-leaves and the kreuzer from the parson, and now I am beginning my pilgrimage.” “But listen, gossip,” said the egg-merchant to the peasant, “are you, then, stupid enough to believe such a thing as that? Don’t you know what it means? The parson wants to spend a whole day alone with your wife in peace, so he has given you this job to do to get you out of the way.”“My word!” said the peasant. “How I’d like to know if that’s true!”“Come, then,” said the gossip, “I’ll tell you what to do. Get into my egg-basket and I will carry you home, and then you will see for yourself.” So that was settled, and the gossip put the peasant into his egg-basket, and carried him home.When they got to the house, hurrah! but all was going merrily there! The woman had already had nearly everything killed that was in the farmyard, and had made pancakes, and the parson was there, and had brought his fiddle with him. The gossip knocked at the door, and woman asked who was there. “It is I, gossip,” said the egg-merchant, “give me shelter this night; I have not sold my eggs at the market, so now I have to carry them home again, and they are so heavy that I shall never be able to do it, for it is dark already.”“Indeed, my friend,” said the woman, “thou comest at a very inconvenient time for me, but as thou art here it can’t be helped, come in, and take a seat there on the bench by the stove.” Then she placed the gossip and the basket which he carried on his back on the bench by the stove. The parson, however, and the woman were as merry as possible. At length the parson said, “Listen, my dear friend, thou canst sing beautifully; sing something to me.” “Oh,” said the woman, “I cannot sing now, in my young days indeed I could sing well enough, but that’s all over now.”“Come,” said the parson once more, “do sing some little song.”On that the woman began and sang,“I’ve sent my husband away from meTo the Göckerli hill in Italy.”Thereupon the parson sang,“I wish ’twas a year before he came back,I’d never ask him for the laurel-leaf sack.”Hallelujah.”Then the gossip who was in the background began to sing (but I ought to tell you the peasant was called Hildebrand), so the gossip sang,“What art thou doing, my Hildebrand dear,There on the bench by the stove so near?Hallelujah.”And then the peasant sang from his basket,“All singing I ever shall hate from this day,And here in this basket no longer I’ll stay.”Hallelujah.And he got out of the basket, and cudgelled the parson out of the house.
There once lived an Indian in the north who had ten daughters, all of whom grew up to womanhood. They were noted for their beauty, especially Oweenee, the youngest, who was very independent in her way of thinking. She was a great admirer of romantic places, and spent much of her time with the flowers and winds and clouds in the open air. Though the flower were homely, if it was fragrant—though the wind were rough, if it was healthful—and though the cloud were dark, if it embosomed the fruitful rain, she knew how, in spite of appearances, to acknowledge the good qualities concealed from the eye. She paid very little attention to the many handsome young men who came to her father’s lodge for the purpose of seeing her.Her elder sisters were all sought in marriage, and one after the other they went off to dwell in the lodges of their husbands; but Oweenee was deaf to all proposals of the kind. At last she married an old man called Osseo, who was scarcely able to walk, and who was too poor to have things like others. The only property he owned in the world was the walking-staff which he carried in his hand. Though thus poor and homely, Osseo was a devout and good man; faithful in all his duties, and obedient in all things to the Good Spirit. Of course they jeered and laughed at Oweenee on all sides, but she seemed to be quite happy, and said to them, “It is my choice and you will see in the end who has acted the wisest.”They made a special mock of the walking-staff, and scarcely an hour in the day passed that they had not some disparaging reference to it. Among themselves they spoke of Osseo of the walking-staff, in derision, as the owner of the big woods, or the great timber-man.“True,” said Oweenee, “it is but a simple stick; but as it supports the steps of my husband, it is more precious to me than all the forests of the north.”A time came when the sisters, and their husbands, and their parents were all invited to a feast. As the distance was considerable, they doubted whether Osseo, so aged and feeble, would be able to undertake the journey; but in spite of their friendly doubts, he joined them, and set out with a good heart.As they walked along the path they could not help pitying their young and handsome sister who had such an unsuitable mate. She, however, smiled upon Osseo, and kept with him by the way the same as if he had been the comeliest bridegroom in all the company. Osseo often stopped and gazed upward; but they could perceive nothing in the direction in which he looked, unless it was the faint glimmering of the evening star. They heard him muttering to himself as they went along, and one of the elder sisters caught the words, “Pity me, my father!”“Poor old man,” said she; “he is talking to his father. What a pity it is that he would not fall and break his neck, that our sister might have a young husband.”Presently as they came to a great rock where Osseo had been used to breathe his morning and his evening prayer, the star emitted a brighter ray, which shone directly in his face. Osseo, with a sharp cry, fell trembling to the earth, where the others would have left him, but his good wife raised him up, and he sprang forward on the path, and with steps light as the reindeer he led the party, no longer decrepid and infirm, but a beautiful young man. On turning around to look for his wife, behold she had become changed, at the same moment, into an aged and feeble woman, bent almost double, and walking with the staff which he had cast aside.Osseo immediately joined her, and with looks of fondness and the tenderest regard, bestowed on her every endearing attention, and constantly addressed her by the term of ne-ne-moosh-a, or my sweetheart.As they walked along, whenever they were not gazing fondly in each other’s face, they bent their looks on heaven, and a light, as if of far-off stars, was in their eyes.On arriving at the lodge of the hunter with whom they were to feast, they found the banquet ready, and as soon as their entertainer had finished his harangue—in which he told them his feasting was in honor of the Evening or Woman’s Star—they began to partake of the portion dealt out, according to age and character, to each one of the guests. The food was very delicious, and they were all happy but Osseo, who looked at his wife, and then gazed upward, as if he was looking into the substance of the sky. Sounds were soon heard, as if from far-off voices in the air, and they became plainer and plainer, till he could clearly distinguish some of the words.“My son, my son,” said the voice; “I have seen your afflictions, and pity your wants. I come to call you away from a scene that is stained with blood and tears. The earth is full of sorrows. Wicked spirits, the enemies of mankind, walk abroad, and lie in wait to ensnare the children of the sky. Every night they are lifting their voices to the Power of Evil, and every day they make themselves busy in casting mischief in the hunter’s path. You have long been their victim, but you shall be their victim no more. The spell you were under is broken. Your evil genius is overcome. I have cast him down by my superior strength, and it is this strength I now exert for your happiness. Ascend, my son; ascend into the skies, and partake of the feast I have prepared for you in the stars, and bring with you those you love.“The food set before you is enchanted and blessed. Fear not to partake of it. It is endowed with magic power to give immortality to mortals, and to change men to spirits. Your bowls and kettles shall no longer be wood and earth. The one shall become silver, and the other pure gold. They shall shine like fire, and glisten like the most beautiful scarlet. Every female shall also change her state and looks, and no longer be doomed to laborious tasks. She shall put on the beauty of the star-light, and become a shining bird of the air. She shall dance, and not work. She shall sing, and not cry.“My beams,” continued the voice, “shine faintly on your lodge, but they have power to transform it into the lightness of the skies, and decorate it with the colors of the clouds. Come, Osseo, my son, and dwell no longer on earth. Think strongly on my words, and look steadfastly at my beams. My power is now at its height. Doubt not, delay not. It is the voice of the Spirit of the Stars that calls you away to happiness and celestial rest.”The words were intelligible to Osseo, but his companions thought them some far-off sounds of music, or birds singing in the woods. Very soon the lodge began to shake and tremble, and they felt it rising into the air. It was too late to run out, for they were already as high as the tops of the trees. Osseo looked around him as the lodge passed through the topmost boughs, and behold! their wooden dishes were changed into shells of a scarlet color, the poles of the lodge to glittering rods of silver, and the bark that covered them into the gorgeous wings of insects.A moment more and his brothers and sisters, and their parents and friends, were transformed into birds of various plumage. Some were jays, some partridges and pigeons, and others gay singing birds, who hopped about, displaying their many-colored feathers, and singing songs of cheerful note.But his wife, Oweenee, still kept her earthly garb, and exhibited all the indications of extreme old age. He again cast his eyes in the direction of the clouds, and uttered the peculiar cry which had given him the victory at the rock. In a moment the youth and beauty of his wife returned; her dingy garments assumed the shining appearance of green silk, and her staff was changed into a silver feather.The lodge again shook and trembled, for they were now passing through the uppermost clouds, and they immediately after found themselves in the Evening Star, the residence of Osseo’s father.“My son,” said the old man, “hang that cage of birds which you have brought along in your hand at the door, and I will inform you why you and your wife have been sent for.”Osseo obeyed, and then took his seat in the lodge.“Pity was shown to you,” resumed the King of the Star, “on account of the contempt of your wife’s sister, who laughed at her ill fortune, and ridiculed you while you were under the power of that wicked spirit whom you overcame at the rock. That spirit lives in the next lodge, being the small star you see on the left of mine, and he has always felt envious of my family because we had greater power, and especially that we had committed to us the care of the female world. He failed in many attempts to destroy your brothers and sisters-in-law, but succeeded at last in transforming yourself and your wife into decrepid old persons. You must be careful and not let the light of his beams fall on you, while you are here, for therein lies the power of his enchantment. A ray of light is the bow and arrow he uses.”Osseo lived happy and contented in the parental lodge, and in due time his wife presented him with a son, who grew up rapidly, and in the very likeness of Osseo himself. He was very quick and ready in learning every thing that was done in his grandfather’s dominions, but he wished also to learn the art of hunting, for he had heard that this was a favorite pursuit below. To gratify him, his father made him a bow and arrows, and he then let the birds out of the cage that he might practice in shooting. In this pastime he soon became expert, and the very first day he brought down a bird; but when he went to pick it up, to his amazement it was a beautiful young woman, with the arrow sticking in her breast. It was one of his younger aunts.The moment her blood fell upon the surface of that pure and spotless planet, the charm was dissolved. The boy immediately found himself sinking, although he was partly upheld by something like wings until he passed through the lower clouds, and he then suddenly dropped upon a high, breezy island in a large lake. He was pleased, on looking up, to see all his aunts and uncles following him in the form of birds, and he soon discovered the silver lodge, with his father and mother, descending, with its waving tassels fluttering like so many insects’ gilded wings. It rested on the loftiest cliffs of the island, and there they fixed their residence. They all resumed their natural shapes, but they were diminished to the size of fairies; and as a mark of homage to the King of the Evening Star, they never failed on every pleasant evening during the summer season to join hands and dance upon the top of the rocks. These rocks were quickly observed by the Indians to be covered, in moonlight evenings, with a larger sort of Ininees, or little men, and were called Mish-in-e-mok-in-ok-ong, or Little Spirits, and the island is named from them to this day.Their shining lodge can be seen in the summer evenings, when the moon beams strongly on the pinnacles of the rocks; and the fishermen who go near those high cliffs at night, have even heard the voices of the happy little dancers. And Osseo and his wife, as fondly attached to each other as ever, always lead the dance.
A VERY long time ago the town of Hamel in Germany was invaded by bands of rats, the like of which had never been seen before nor will ever be again.They were great black creatures that ran boldly in broad daylight through the streets, and swarmed so, all over the houses, that people at last could not put their hand or foot down anywhere without touching one. When dressing in the morning they found them in their breeches and petticoats, in their pockets and in their boots; and when they wanted a morsel to eat, the voracious horde had swept away everything from cellar to garret. The night was even worse. As soon as the lights were out, these untiring nibblers set to work. And everywhere, in the ceilings, in the floors, in the cupboards, at the doors, there was a chase and a rummage, and so furious a noise of gimlets, pincers, and saws, that a deaf man could not have rested for one hour together.Neither cats nor dogs, nor poison nor traps, nor prayers nor candles burnt to all the saints–nothing would do anything. The more they killed the more came. And the inhabitants of Hamel began to go to the dogs (not that THEY were of much use), when one Friday there arrived in the town a man with a queer face, who played the bagpipes and sang this refrain:`Qui vivra verra: Le voila, Le preneur des rats.’He was a great gawky fellow, dry and bronzed, with a crooked nose, a long rat-tail moustache, two great yellow piercing and mocking eyes, under a large felt hat set off by a scarlet cock’s feather. He was dressed in a green jacket with a leather belt and red breeches, and on his feet were sandals fastened by thongs passed round his legs in the gipsy fashion.That is how he may be seen to this day, painted on a window of the cathedral of Hamel.He stopped on the great market-place before the town hall, turned his back on the church and went on with his music, singing:`Who lives shall see: This is he, The ratcatcher.’The town council had just assembled to consider once more this plague of Egypt, from which no one could save the town.The stranger sent word to the counsellors that, if they would make it worth his while, he would rid them of all their rats before night, down to the very last.`Then he is a sorcerer!’ cried the citizens with one voice; `we must beware of him.’The Town Counsellor, who was considered clever, reassured them.He said: `Sorcerer or no, if this bagpiper speaks the truth, it was he who sent us this horrible vermin that he wants to rid us of to-day for money. Well, we must learn to catch the devil in his own snares. You leave it to me.’`Leave it to the Town Counsellor,’ said the citizens one to another.And the stranger was brought before them.`Before night,’ said he, `I shall have despatched all the rats in Hamel if you will but pay me a gros a head.’`A gros a head!’ cried the citizens, `but that will come to millions of florins!’The Town Counsellor simply shrugged his shoulders and said to the stranger:`A bargain! To work; the rats will be paid one gros a head as you ask.’The bagpiper announced that he would operate that very evening when the moon rose. He added that the inhabitants should at that hour leave the streets free, and content themselves with looking out of their windows at what was passing, and that it would be a pleasant spectacle. When the people of Hamel heard of the bargain, they too exclaimed: `A gros a head! but this will cost us a deal of money!’`Leave it to the Town Counsellor,’ said the town council with a malicious air. And the good people of Hamel repeated with their counsellors, `Leave it to the Town Counsellor.’Towards nine at night the bagpiper re-appeared on the market place. He turned, as at first, his back to the church, and the moment the moon rose on the horizon, `Trarira, trari!’ the bagpipes resounded.It was first a slow, caressing sound, then more and more lively and urgent, and so sonorous and piercing that it penetrated as far as the farthest alleys and retreats of the town.Soon from the bottom of the cellars, the top of the garrets, from under all the furniture, from all the nooks and corners of the houses, out come the rats, search for the door, fling themselves into the street, and trip, trip, trip, begin to run in file towards the front of the town hall, so squeezed together that they covered the pavement like the waves of flooded torrent.When the square was quite full the bagpiper faced about, and, still playing briskly, turned towards the river that runs at the foot of the walls of Hamel.Arrived there he turned round; the rats were following.`Hop! hop!’ he cried, pointing with his finger to the middle of the stream, where the water whirled and was drawn down as if through a funnel. And hop! hop! without hesitating, the rats took the leap, swam straight to the funnel, plunged in head foremost and disappeared.The plunging continued thus without ceasing till midnight.At last, dragging himself with difficulty, came a big rat, white with age, and stopped on the bank.It was the king of the band.`Are they all there, friend Blanchet?’ asked the bagpiper.`They are all there,’ replied friend Blanchet.`And how many were they?’`Nine hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety- nine.’`Well reckoned?’`Well reckoned.’`Then go and join them, old sire, and au revoir.’Then the old white rat sprang in his turn into the river, swam to the whirlpool and disappeared.When the bagpiper had thus concluded his business he went to bed at his inn. And for the first time during three months the people of Hamel slept quietly through the night.The next morning, at nine o’clock, the bagpiper repaired to the town hall, where the town council awaited him.`All your rats took a jump into the river yesterday,’ said he to the counsellors, `and I guarantee that not one of them comes back. They were nine hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine, at one gros a head. Reckon!’`Let us reckon the heads first. One gros a head is one head the gros. Where are the heads?’The ratcatcher did not expect this treacherous stroke. He paled with anger and his eyes flashed fire.`The heads!’ cried he, `if you care about them, go and find them in the river.’`So,’ replied the Town Counsellor, `you refuse to hold to the terms of your agreement? We ourselves could refuse you all payment. But you have been of use to us, and we will not let you go without a recompense,’ and he offered him fifty crowns.`Keep your recompense for yourself,’ replied the ratcatcher proudly. `If you do not pay me I will be paid by your heirs.’Thereupon he pulled his hat down over his eyes, went hastily out of the hall, and left the town without speaking to a soul.When the Hamel people heard how the affair had ended they rubbed their hands, and with no more scruple than their Town Counsellor, they laughed over the ratcatcher, who, they said, was caught in his own trap. But what made them laugh above all was his threat of getting himself paid by their heirs. Ha! they wished that they only had such creditors for the rest of their lives.Next day, which was a Sunday, they all went gaily to church, thinking that after Mass they would at last be able to eat some good thing that the rats had not tasted before them.They never suspected the terrible surprise that awaited them on their return home. No children anywhere, they had all disappeared!`Our children! where are our poor children?’ was the cry that was soon heard in all the streets.Then through the east door of the town came three little boys, who cried and wept, and this is what they told:While the parents were at church a wonderful music had resounded. Soon all the little boys and all the little girls that had been left at home had gone out, attracted by the magic sounds, and had rushed to the great market-place. There they found the ratcatcher playing his bagpipes at the same spot as the evening before. Then the stranger had begun to walk quickly, and they had followed, running, singing and dancing to the sound of the music, as far as the foot of the mountain which one sees on entering Hamel. At their approach the mountain had opened a little, and the bagpiper had gone in with them, after which it had closed again. Only the three little ones who told the adventure had remained outside, as if by a miracle. One was bandy-legged and could not run fast enough; the other, who had left the house in haste, one foot shod the other bare, had hurt himself against a big stone and could not walk without difficulty; the third had arrived in time, but in harrying to go in with the others had struck so violently against the wall of the mountain that he fell backwards at the moment it closed upon his comrades.At this story the parents redoubled their lamentations. They ran with pikes and mattocks to the mountain, and searched till evening to find the opening by which their children had disappeared, without being able to find it. At last, the night falling, they returned desolate to Hamel.But the most unhappy of all was the Town Counsellor, for he lost three little boys and two pretty little girls, and to crown all, the people of Hamel overwhelmed him with reproaches, forgetting that the evening before they had all agreed with him.What had become of all these unfortunate children?The parents always hoped they were not dead, and that the rat- catcher, who certainly must have come out of the mountain, would have taken them with him to his country. That is why for several years they sent in search of them to different countries, but no one ever came on the trace of the poor little ones.It was not till much later that anything was to be heard of them.About one hundred and fifty years after the event, when there was no longer one left of the fathers, mothers, brothers or sisters of that day, there arrived one evening in Hamel some merchants of Bremen returning from the East, who asked to speak with the citizens. They told that they, in crossing Hungary, had sojourned in a mountainous country called Transylvania, where the inhabitants only spoke German, while all around them nothing was spoken but Hungarian. These people also declared that they came from Germany, but they did not know how they chanced to be in this strange country. `Now,’ said the merchants of Bremen, `these Germans cannot be other than the descendants of the lost children of Hamel.’The people of Hamel did not doubt it; and since that day they regard it as certain that the Transylvanians of Hungary are their country folk, whose ancestors, as children, were brought there by the ratcatcher. There are more difficult things to believe than that.
The Lord God had created all animals, and had chosen out the wolf to be his dog, but he had forgotten the goat. Then the Devil made ready and began to create also, and created goats with fine long tails. Now when they went to pasture, they generally remained caught in the hedges by their tails, then the Devil had to go there and disentangle them, with a great deal of trouble. This enraged him at last, and he went and bit off the tail of every goat, as may be seen to this day by the stump. Then he let them go to pasture alone, but it came to pass that the Lord God perceived how at one time they gnawed away at a fruitful tree, at another injured the noble vines, or destroyed other tender plants. This distressed him, so that in his goodness and mercy he summoned his wolves, who soon tore in pieces the goats that went there. When the devil observed this, he went before the Lord and said, “Thy creatures have destroyed mine.” The Lord answered, “Why didst thou create things to do harm?” The Devil said, “I was compelled to do it: inasmuch as my thoughts run on evil, what I create can have no other nature, and thou must pay me heavy damages.” “I will pay thee as soon as the oak leaves fall; come then, thy money will then be ready counted out.” When the oak-leaves had fallen, the Devil came and demanded what was due to him. But the Lord said, “In the church of Constantinople stands a tall oak-tree which still has all its leaves.” With raging and curses, the Devil departed, and went to seek the oak, wandered in the wilderness for six months before he found it, and when he returned, all the oaks had in the meantime covered themselves again with green leaves. Then he had to forfeit his indemnity, and in his rage he put out the eyes of all the remaining goats, and put his own in instead.This is why all goats have devil’s eyes, and their tails bitten off, and why he likes to assume their shape.
By the high-road in the forest lay a lonely peasant’s hut; the road went right through the farmyard. The sun shone down, and all the windows were open. In the house was bustle and movement; but in the garden, in an arbour of blossoming elder, stood an open coffin. A dead man had been carried out here, and he was to be buried this morning. Nobody stood by the coffin and looked sorrowfully at the dead man; no one shed a tear for him: his face was covered with a white cloth, and under his head lay a great thick book, whose leaves consisted of whole sheets of blotting paper, and on each leaf lay a faded flower. It was a complete herbanum, gathered by him in various places; it was to be buried with him, for so he had wished it. With each flower a chapter in his life was associated.“Who is the dead man?” we asked; and the answer was:“The Old Student. They say he was once a brisk lad, and studied the old languages, and sang, and even wrote poems. Then something happened to him that made him turn his thoughts to brandy, and take to it; and when at last he had ruined his health, he came out here into the country, where somebody paid for his board and lodging. He was as gentle as a child, except when the dark mood came upon him; but when it came he became like a giant, and then ran about in the woods like a hunted stag; but when we once got him home again, and prevailed with him so far that he opened the book with the dried plants, he often sat whole days, and looked sometimes at one plant and sometimes at another, and at times the tears rolled over his cheeks: Heaven knows what he was thinking of. But he begged us to put the book into the coffin, and now he lies there, and in a little while the lid will be nailed down, and he will have his quiet rest in the grave.”The face-cloth was raised, and there was peace upon the features of the dead man, and a sunbeam played upon it; a swallow shot with arrowy flight into the arbour, and turned rapidly, and twittered over the dead man’s head.What a strange feeling it is—and we have doubtless all experienced it—that of turning over old letters of the days of our youth! a new life seems to come up with them, with all its hopes and sorrows. How many persons with whom we were intimate in those days, are as it were dead to us! and yet they are alive, but for a long time we have not thought of them—of them whom we then thought to hold fast for ages, and with whom we were to share sorrow and joy.Here the withered oak-leaf in the book reminded the owner of the friend, the school-fellow, who was to be a friend for life: he fastened the green leaf in the student’s cap in the green wood, when the bond was made “for life:” where does he live now? The leaf is preserved, but the friendship has perished! And here is a foreign hothouse plant, too delicate for the gardens of the North; the leaves almost seem to keep their fragrance still. She gave it to him, the young lady in the nobleman’s garden. Here is the water rose, which he plucked himself, and moistened with salt tears—the roses of the sweet waters. And here is a nettle—what tale may its leaves have to tell? What were his thoughts when he plucked it and kept it? Here is a lily of the valley, from the solitudes of the forest. Here’s an evergreen from the flower-pot of the tavern; and here’s a naked sharp blade of grass.The blooming elder waves its fresh fragrant blossoms over the dead man’s head, and the swallow flies past again. “Pee-wit! pee-wit!” And now the men come with nails and hammers, and the lid is laid over the dead man, that his head may rest upon the dumb book—vanished and scattered!
“In the province of the Deiri (Yorkshire), not far from my birthplace,” says William of Newbury, “a wonderful thing occurred, which I have known from my boyhood. There is a town a few miles distant from the Eastern Sea, near which are those celebrated waters commonly called Gipse…. A peasant of this town went once to see a friend who lived in the next town, and it was late at night when he was coming back, not very sober, when, lo! from the adjoining barrow, which I have often seen, and which is not much over a quarter of a mile from the town, he heard the voices of people singing, and, as it were, joyfully feasting. He wondered who they could be that were breaking in that place, by their merriment, the silence of the dead night, and he wished to examine into the matter more closely. Seeing a door open in the side of the barrow he went up to it and looked in, and there he beheld a large and luminous house, full of people, women as well as men, who were reclining as at a solemn banquet. One of the attendants, seeing him standing at the door, offered him a cup. He took it, but would not drink, and pouring out the contents, kept the vessel. A great tumult arose at the banquet on account of his taking away the cup, and all the guests pursued him, but he escaped by the fleetness of the beast he rode, and got into the town with his booty.“Finally this vessel of unknown material, of unusual colour, and of extraordinary form, was presented to Henry the Elder, King of the English, as a valuable gift; was then given to the Queen’s brother, David, King of the Scots, and was kept for several years in the treasury of Scotland. A few years ago, as I have heard from good authority, it was given by William, King of the Scots, to Henry the Second, who wished to see it.”
In the olden time there was a king, who had behind his palace had a beautiful pleasure-garden in which there was a tree that bore golden apples. When the apples were getting ripe they were counted, but on the very next morning one was missing. This was told to the King, and he ordered that a watch should be kept every night beneath the tree.The King had three sons, the eldest of whom he sent, as soon as night came on, into the garden; but when midnight came he could not keep himself from sleeping, and next morning again an apple was gone.The following night the second son had to keep watch, it fared no better with him; as soon as twelve o’clock had struck he fell asleep, and in the morning an apple was gone.Now it came to the turn of the third son to watch; and he was quite ready, but the King had not much trust in him, and thought that he would be of less use even than his brothers: but at last he let him go. The youth lay down beneath the tree, but kept awake, and did not let sleep master him.“In the moonlight he saw a bird.” Illustration by Rie Cramer, published in Alcott’s Grimm’s Fairy Tales (1927), Penn Pub. CompanyWhen it struck twelve, something rustled through the air, and in the moonlight he saw a bird coming whose feathers were all shining with gold. The bird alighted on the tree, and had just plucked off an apple, when the youth shot an arrow at him. The bird flew off, but the arrow had struck his plumage, and one of his golden feathers fell down. The youth picked it up, and the next morning took it to the King and told him what he had seen in the night. The King called his council together, and every one declared that a feather like this was worth more than the whole kingdom. “If the feather is so precious,” declared the King, “one alone will not do for me; I must and will have the whole bird!”The eldest son set out; he trusted to his cleverness, and thought that he would easily find the Golden Bird. When he had gone some distance he saw a Fox sitting at the edge of a wood, so he cocked his gun and took aim at him. The Fox cried, “Do not shoot me! and in return I will give you some good counsel. You are on the way to the Golden Bird; and this evening you will come to a village in which stand two inns opposite to one another. One of them is lighted up brightly, and all goes on merrily within, but do not go into it; go rather into the other, even though it seems a bad one.”“How can such a silly beast give wise advice?” thought the King’s son, and he pulled the trigger. But he missed the Fox, who stretched out his tail and ran quickly into the wood.So he pursued his way, and by evening came to the village where the two inns were; in one they were singing and dancing; the other had a poor, miserable look. “I should be a fool, indeed,” he thought, “if I were to go into the shabby tavern, and pass by the good one.” So he went into the cheerful one, lived there in riot and revel, and forgot the bird and his father, and all good counsels.When some time had passed, and the eldest son for month after month did not come back home, the second set out, wishing to find the Golden Bird. The Fox met him as he had met the eldest, and gave him the good advice of which he took no heed. He came to the two inns, and his brother was standing at the window of the one from which came the music, and called out to him. He could not resist, but went inside and lived only for pleasure.Again some time passed, and then the King’s youngest son wanted to set off and try his luck, but his father would not allow it. “It is of no use,” said he, “he will find the Golden Bird still less than his brothers, and if a mishap were to befall him he knows not how to help himself; he is a little wanting at the best.” But at last, as he had no peace, he let him go.Again the Fox was sitting outside the wood, and begged for his life, and offered his good advice. The youth was good-natured, and said, “Be easy, little Fox, I will do you no harm.”“You shall not repent it,” answered the Fox; “and that you may get on more quickly, get up behind on my tail.” And scarcely had he seated himself when the Fox began to run, and away he went over stock and stone till his hair whistled in the wind. When they came to the village the youth got off; he followed the good advice, and without looking round turned into the little inn, where he spent the night quietly.The next morning, as soon as he got into the open country, there sat the Fox already, and said, “I will tell you further what you have to do. Go on quite straight, and at last you will come to a castle, in front of which a whole regiment of soldiers is lying, but do not trouble yourself about them, for they will all be asleep and snoring. Go through the midst of them straight into the castle, and go through all the rooms, till at last you will come to a chamber where a Golden Bird is hanging in a wooden cage. Close by, there stands an empty gold cage for show, but beware of taking the bird out of the common cage and putting it into the fine one, or it may go badly with you.” With these words the Fox again stretched out his tail, and the King’s son seated himself upon it, and away he went over stock and stone till his hair whistled in the wind.When he came to the castle he found everything as the Fox had said. The King’s son went into the chamber where the Golden Bird was shut up in a wooden cage, whilst a golden one stood hard by; and the three golden apples lay about the room. “But,” thought he, “it would be absurd if I were to leave the beautiful bird in the common and ugly cage,” so he opened the door, laid hold of it, and put it into the golden cage. But at the same moment the bird uttered a shrill cry. The soldiers awoke, rushed in, and took him off to prison. The next morning he was taken before a court of justice, and as he confessed everything, was sentenced to death.The King, however, said that he would grant him his life on one condition — namely, if he brought him the Golden Horse which ran faster than the wind; and in that case he should receive, over and above, as a reward, the Golden Bird.The King’s son set off, but he sighed and was sorrowful, for how was he to find the Golden Horse? But all at once he saw his old friend the Fox sitting on the road. “Look you,” said the Fox, “this has happened because you did not give heed to me. However, be of good courage. I will give you my help, and tell you how to get to the Golden Horse. You must go straight on, and you will come to a castle, where in the stable stands the horse. The grooms will be lying in front of the stable; but they will be asleep and snoring, and you can quietly lead out the Golden Horse. But of one thing you must take heed; put on him the common saddle of wood and leather, and not the golden one, which hangs close by, else it will go ill with you.” Then the Fox stretched out his tail, the King’s son seated himself upon it, and away he went over stock and stone until his hair whistled in the wind.Everything happened just as the Fox had said; the prince came to the stable in which the Golden Horse was standing, but just as he was going to put the common saddle upon him, he thought, “It will be a shame to such a beautiful beast, if I do not give him the good saddle which belongs to him by right.”But scarcely had the golden saddle touched the horse than he began to neigh loudly. The grooms awoke, seized the youth, and threw him into prison. The next morning he was sentenced by the court to death; but the King promised to grant him his life, and the Golden Horse as well, if he could bring back the beautiful princess from the Golden Castle.With a heavy heart the youth set out; yet luckily for him he soon found the trusty Fox. “I ought only to leave you to your ill-luck,” said the Fox, “but I pity you, and will help you once more out of your trouble. This road takes you straight to the Golden Castle, you will reach it by eventide; and at night when everything is quiet the beautiful princess goes to the bathing-house to bathe. When she enters it, run up to her and give her a kiss, then she will follow you, and you can take her away with you; only do not allow her to take leave of her parents first, or it will go ill with you.”Then the Fox stretched out his tail, the King’s son seated himself upon it, and away the Fox went, over stock and stone, till his hair whistled in the wind.When he reached the Golden Castle it was just as the Fox had said. He waited until midnight, when everything lay in deep sleep, and the beautiful princess was going to the bathing-house. Then he sprang out and gave her a kiss. She said that she would like to go with him, but she asked him pitifully, and with tears, to allow her first to take leave of her parents. At first he withstood her prayer, but when she wept more and more, and fell at his feet, he at last gave in. But no sooner had the maiden reached the bedside of her father than he and all the rest in the castle awoke, and the youth was laid hold of and put into prison.The next morning the King said to him, “Your life is forfeited, and you can only find mercy if you take away the hill which stands in front of my windows, and prevents my seeing beyond it; and you must finish it all within eight days. If you do that you shall have my daughter as your reward.”The King’s son began, and dug and shovelled without leaving off, but when after seven days he saw how little he had done, and how all his work was as good as nothing, he fell into great sorrow and gave up all hope. But on the evening of the seventh day the Fox appeared and said, “You do not deserve that I should take any trouble about you; but just go away and lie down to sleep, and I will do the work for you.”The next morning when he awoke and looked out of the window the hill had gone. The youth ran, full of joy, to the King, and told him that the task was fulfilled, and whether he liked it or not, the King had to hold to his word and give him his daughter.So the two set forth together, and it was not long before the trusty Fox came up with them. “You have certainly got what is best,” said he, “but the Golden Horse also belongs to the maiden of the Golden Castle.”“How shall I get it?” asked the youth. “That I will tell you,” answered the Fox; “first take the beautiful maiden to the King who sent you to the Golden Castle. There will be unheard-of rejoicing; they will gladly give you the Golden Horse, and will bring it out to you. Mount it as soon as possible, and offer your hand to all in farewell; last of all to the beautiful maiden. And as soon as you have taken her hand swing her up on to the horse, and gallop away, and no one will be able to bring you back, for the horse runs faster than the wind.”All was brought to pass successfully, and the King’s son carried off the beautiful princess on the Golden Horse.The Fox did not remain behind, and he said to the youth, “Now I will help you to get the Golden Bird. When you come near to the castle where the Golden Bird is to be found, let the maiden get down, and I will take her into my care. Then ride with the Golden Horse into the castle-yard; there will be great rejoicing at the sight, and they will bring out the Golden Bird for you. As soon as you have the cage in your hand gallop back to us, and take the maiden away again.”When the plan had succeeded, and the King’s son was about to ride home with his treasures, the Fox said, “Now you shall reward me for my help.”“What do you require for it?” asked the youth. “When you get into the wood yonder, shoot me dead, and chop off my head and feet.”“That would be fine gratitude,” said the King’s son. “I cannot possibly do that for you.”The Fox said, “If you will not do it I must leave you, but before I go away I will give you a piece of good advice. Be careful about two things. Buy no gallows’-flesh, and do not sit at the edge of any well.” And then he ran into the wood.The youth thought, “That is a wonderful beast, he has strange whims; who is going to buy gallows’-flesh? and the desire to sit at the edge of a well it has never yet seized me.”He rode on with the beautiful maiden, and his road took him again through the village in which his two brothers had remained. There was a great stir and noise, and, when he asked what was going on, he was told that two men were going to be hanged.As he came nearer to the place he saw that they were his brothers, who had been playing all kinds of wicked pranks, and had squandered all their wealth. He inquired whether they could not be set free. “If you will pay for them,” answered the people; “but why should you waste your money on wicked men, and buy them free.” He did not think twice about it, but paid for them, and when they were set free they all went on their way together.They came to the wood where the Fox had first met them, and, as it was cool and pleasant within it, whilst the sun shone hotly, the two brothers said, “Let us rest a little by the well, and eat and drink.” He agreed, and whilst they were talking he forgot himself, and sat down upon the edge of the well without foreboding any evil.But the two brothers threw him backwards into the well, took the maiden, the Horse, and the Bird, and went home to their father. “Here we bring you not only the Golden Bird,” said they; “we have won the Golden Horse also, and the maiden from the Golden Castle.” Then was there great joy; but the Horse would not eat, the Bird would not sing, and the maiden sat and wept.But the youngest brother was not dead. By good fortune the well was dry, and he fell upon soft moss without being hurt, but he could not get out again. Even in this strait the faithful Fox did not leave him: it came and leapt down to him, and upbraided him for having forgotten its advice. “But yet I cannot give it up so,” he said; “I will help you up again into daylight.” He bade him grasp his tail and keep tight hold of it; and then he pulled him up.“You are not out of all danger yet,” said the Fox. “Your brothers were not sure of your death, and have surrounded the wood with watchers, who are to kill you if you let yourself be seen.” But a poor man was sitting upon the road, with whom the youth changed clothes, and in this way he got to the King’s palace.No one knew him, but the Bird began to sing, the Horse began to eat, and the beautiful maiden left off weeping. The King, astonished, asked, “What does this mean?” Then the maiden said, “I do not know, but I have been so sorrowful and now I am so happy! I feel as if my true bride- groom had come.” She told him all that had happened, although the other brothers had threatened her with death if she were to betray anything.The King commanded that all people who were in his castle should be brought before him; and amongst them came the youth in his ragged clothes; but the maiden knew him at once and fell upon his neck. The wicked brothers were seized and put to death, but he was married to the beautiful maiden and declared heir to the King.But how did it fare with the poor Fox? Long afterwards the King’s son was once again walking in the wood, when the Fox met him and said, “You have everything now that you can wish for, but there is never an end to my misery, and yet it is in your power to free me,” and again he asked him with tears to shoot him dead and to chop off his head and feet.So he did it, and scarcely was it done when the Fox was changed into a man, and was no other than the brother of the beautiful princess, who at last was freed from the magic charm which had been laid upon him. And now nothing more was wanting to their happiness as long as they lived.
Once upon a time there were two brothers, peasants, and one was kind and the other was cunning. And the cunning one made money and became rich—very rich—so rich that he thought himself far too good for the village. He went off to the town, and dressed in fine furs, and clothed his wife in rich brocades, and made friends among the merchants, and began to live as merchants live, eating all day long, no longer like a simple peasant who eats kasha one day, kasha the next day, and for a change kasha on the third day also. And always he grew richer and richer.It was very different with the kind one. He lent money to a neighbour, and the neighbour never paid it back. He sowed before the last frost, and lost all his crops. His horse went lame. His cow gave no milk. If his hens laid eggs, they were stolen; and if he set a night-line in the river, some one else always pulled it out and stole the fish and the hooks. Everything went wrong with him, and each day saw him poorer than the day before. At last there came a time when he had not a crumb of bread in the house. He and his wife were thin as sticks because they had nothing to eat, and the children were crying all day long because of their little empty stomachs. From morning till night he dug and worked, struggling against poverty like a fish against the ice; but it was no good. Things went from bad to worse.At last his wife said to him: “You must go to the town and see that rich brother of yours. He will surely not refuse to give you a little help.”And he said: “Truly, wife, there is nothing else to be done. I will go to the town, and perhaps my rich brother will help me. I am sure he would not let my children starve. After all, he is their uncle.”So he took his stick and tramped off to the town.He came to the house of his rich brother. A fine house it was, with painted eaves and a doorway carved by a master. Many servants were there and food in plenty, and people coming and going. He went in and found his brother, and said,—“Dear brother of mine, I beg you help me, even if only a little. My wife and children are without bread. All day long they sit hungry and waiting, and I have no food to give them.”The rich brother looks at him, and hums and strokes his beard. Then says he: “I will help you. But, of course, you must do something in return. Stay here and work for me, and at the end of a week you shall have the help you have earned.”The poor brother thanked him, and bowed and kissed his hand, and praised God for the kindness of his brother’s heart, and set instantly to work. For a whole week he slaved, and scarcely slept. He cleaned out the stables and cut the wood, swept the yard, drew water from the well, and ran errands for the cook. And at the end of the week his brother called him, and gave him a single loaf of bread.“You must not forget,” says the rich brother, “that I have fed you all the week you have been here, and all that food counts in the payment.”The poor brother thanked him, and was setting off to carry the loaf to his wife and children when the rich brother called him back.“Stop a minute,” said he; “I would like you to know that I am well disposed towards you. To-morrow is my name-day. Come to the feast, and bring your wife with you.”“How can I do that, brother? Your friends are rich merchants, with fine clothes, and boots on their feet. And I have nothing but my old coat, and my legs are bound in rags and my feet shuffle along in straw slippers. I do not want to shame you before your guests.”“Never mind about that,” says the rich brother; “we will find a place for you.”“Very good, brother, and thank you kindly. God be praised for having given you a tender heart.”And the poor brother, though he was tired out after all the work he had done, set off home as fast as he could to take the bread to his wife and children.“He might have given you more than that,” said his wife.“But listen,” said he; “what do you think of this? To-morrow we are invited, you and I, as guests, to go to a great feast.”“What do you mean? A feast? Who has invited us?”“My brother has invited us. To-morrow is his name-day. I always told you he had a kind heart. We shall be well fed, and I dare say we shall be able to bring back something for the children.”“A pleasure like that does not often come our way,” said his wife.So early in the morning they got up, and walked all the way to the town, so as not to shame the rich brother by putting up their old cart in the yard beside the merchants’ fine carriages. They came to the rich brother’s house, and found the guests all assembled and making merry; rich merchants and their plump wives, all eating and laughing and drinking and talking.They wished a long life to the rich brother, and the poor brother wanted to make a speech, congratulating him on his name-day. But the rich brother scarcely thanked him, because he was so busy entertaining the rich merchants and their plump, laughing wives. He was pressing food on his guests, now this, now that, and calling to the servants to keep their glasses filled and their plates full of all the tastiest kinds of food. As for the poor brother and his wife, the rich one forgot all about them, and they got nothing to eat and never a drop to drink. They just sat there with empty plates and empty glasses, watching how the others ate and drank. The poor brother laughed with the rest, because he did not wish to show that he had been forgotten.The dinner came to an end. One by one the guests went up to the giver of the feast to thank him for his good cheer. And the poor brother too got up from the bench, and bowed low before his brother and thanked him.The guests went home, drunken and joyful. A fine noise they made, as people do on these occasions, shouting jokes to each other and singing songs at the top of their voices.The poor brother and his wife went home empty and sad. All that long way they had walked, and now they had to walk it again, and the feast was over, and never a bite had they had in their mouths, nor a drop in their gullets.“Come, wife,” says the poor brother as he trudged along, “let us sing a song like the others.”“What a fool you are!” says his wife. Hungry and cross she was, as even Maroosia would be after a day like that watching other people stuff themselves. “What a fool you are!” says she. “People may very well sing when they have eaten tasty dishes and drunk good wine. But what reason have you got for making a merry noise in the night?”“Why, my dear” says he, “we have been at my brother’s name-day feast. I am ashamed to go home without a song. I’ll sing. I’ll sing so that everyone shall think he loaded us with good things like the rest.”“Well, sing if you like; but you’ll sing by yourself.”So the peasant, the poor brother, started singing a song with his dry throat. He lifted his voice and sang like the rest, while his wife trudged silently beside him.But as he sang it seemed to the peasant that he heard two voices singing—his own and another’s. He stopped, and asked his wife,—“Is that you joining in my song with a little thin voice?”“What’s the matter with you? I never thought of singing with you. I never opened my mouth.”“Who is it then?”“No one except yourself. Any one would say you had had a drink of wine after all.”“But I heard some one … a little weak voice … a little sad voice … joining with mine.”“I heard nothing,” said his wife; “but sing again, and I’ll listen.”The poor man sang again. He sang alone. His wife listened, and it was clear that there were two voices singing—the dry voice of the poor man, and a little miserable voice that came from the shadows under the trees. The poor man stopped, and asked out loud,—“Who are you who are singing with me?”And a little thin voice answered out of the shadows by the roadside, under the trees,—“I am Misery.”“So it was you, Misery, who were helping me?”“Yes, master, I was helping you.”“Well, little Master Misery, come along with us and keep us company.”“I’ll do that willingly,” says little Master Misery, “and I’ll never, never leave you at all—no, not if you have no other friend in the world.”And a wretched little man, with a miserable face and little thin legs and arms, came out of the shadows and went home with the peasant and his wife.It was late when they got home, but little Master Misery asked the peasant to take him to the tavern. “After such a day as this has been,” says he, “there’s nothing else to be done.”“But I have no money,” says the peasant.“What of that?” says little Master Misery. “Spring has begun, and you have a winter jacket on. It will soon be summer, and whether you have it or not you won’t wear it. Bring it along to the tavern, and change it for a drink.”The poor man went to the tavern with little Master Misery, and they sat there and drank the vodka that the tavern-keeper gave them in exchange for the coat.Next day, early in the morning, little Master Misery began complaining. His head ached and he could not open his eyes, and he did not like the weather, and the children were crying, and there was no food in the house. He asked the peasant to come with him to the tavern again and forget all this wretchedness in a drink.“But I’ve got no money,” says the peasant.“Rubbish!” says little Master Misery; “you have a sledge and a cart.”They took the cart and the sledge to the tavern, and stayed there drinking until the tavern-keeper said they had had all that the cart and the sledge were worth. Then the tavern-keeper took them and threw them out of doors into the night, and they picked themselves up and crawled home.Next day Misery complained worse than before, and begged the peasant to come with him to the tavern. There was no getting rid of him, no keeping him quiet. The peasant sold his barrow and plough, so that he could no longer work his land. He went to the tavern with little Master Misery.A month went by like that, and at the end of it the peasant had nothing left at all. He had even pledged the hut he lived in to a neighbour, and taken the money to the tavern.And every day little Master Misery begged him to come. “There I am not wretched any longer,” says Misery. “There I sing, and even dance, hitting the floor with my heels and making a merry noise.”“But now I have no money at all, and nothing left to sell,” says the poor peasant. “I’d be willing enough to go with you, but I can’t, and here is an end of it.”“Rubbish!” says Misery; “your wife has two dresses. Leave her one; she can’t wear both at once. Leave her one, and buy a drink with the other. They are both ragged, but take the better of the two. The tavern-keeper is a just man, and will give us more drink for the better one.”The peasant took the dress and sold it; and Misery laughed and danced, while the peasant thought to himself, “Well, this is the end. I’ve nothing left to sell, and my wife has nothing either. We’ve the clothes on our backs, and nothing else in the world.”In the morning little Master Misery woke with a headache as usual, and a mouthful of groans and complaints. But he saw that the peasant had nothing left to sell, and he called out,—“Listen to me, master of the house.”“What is it, Misery?” says the peasant, who was master of nothing in the world.“Go you to a neighbour and beg the loan of a cart and a pair of good oxen.”The poor peasant had no will of his own left. He did exactly as he was told. He went to his neighbour and begged the loan of the oxen and cart.“But how will you repay me?” says the neighbour.“I will do a week’s work for you for nothing.”“Very well,” says the neighbour; “take the oxen and cart, but be careful not to give them too heavy a load.”“Indeed I won’t,” says the peasant, thinking to himself that he had nothing to load them with. “And thank you very much,” says he; and he goes back to Misery, taking with him the oxen and cart.Misery looked at him and grumbled in his wretched little voice, “They are hardly strong enough,”“They are the best I could borrow,” says the peasant; “and you and I have starved too long to be heavy.”And the peasant and little Master Misery sat together in the cart and drove off together, Misery holding his head in both hands and groaning at the jolt of the cart.As soon as they had left the village, Misery sat up and asked the peasant,—“Do you know the big stone that stands alone in the middle of a field not far from here?”“Of course I know it,” says the peasant.“Drive straight to it,” says Misery, and went on rocking himself to and fro, and groaning and complaining in his wretched little voice.They came to the stone, and got down from the cart and looked at the stone. It was very big and heavy, and was fixed in the ground.“Heave it up,” says Misery.The poor peasant set to work to heave it up, and Misery helped him, groaning, and complaining that the peasant was nothing of a fellow because he could not do his work by himself. Well, they heaved it up, and there below it was a deep hole, and the hole was filled with gold pieces to the very top; more gold pieces than ever you will see copper ones if you live to be a hundred and ten.“Well, what are you staring at?” says Misery. “Stir yourself, and be quick about it, and load all this gold into the cart.”The peasant set to work, and piled all the gold into the cart down to the very last gold piece; while Misery sat on the stone and watched, groaning and chuckling in his weak, wretched little voice.“Be quick,” says Misery; “and then we can get back to the tavern.”The peasant looked into the pit to see that there was nothing left there, and then says he,—“Just take a look, little Master Misery, and see that we have left nothing behind. You are smaller than I, and can get right down into the pit….”Misery slipped down from the stone, grumbling at the peasant, and bent over the pit.“You’ve taken the lot,” says he; “there’s nothing to be seen.”“But what is that,” says the peasant—”there, shining in the corner?”“I don’t see it.”“Jump down into the pit and you’ll see it. It would be a pity to waste a gold piece.”Misery jumped down into the pit, and instantly the peasant rolled the stone over the hole and shut him in.“Things will be better so,” says the peasant. “If I were to let you out of that, sooner or later you would drink up all this money, just as you drank up everything I had.”Then the peasant drove home and hid the gold in the cellar; took the oxen and cart back to his neighbour, thanked him kindly, and began to think what he would do, now that Misery was his master no longer, and he with plenty of money.“But he had to work for a week to pay for the loan of the oxen and cart,” said Vanya.“Well, during the week, while he was working, he was thinking all the time, in his head,” said old Peter, a little grumpily. Then he went on with his tale.As soon as the week was over, he bought a forest and built himself a fine house, and began to live twice as richly as his brother in the town. And his wife had two new dresses, perhaps more; with a lot of gold and silver braid, and necklaces of big yellow stones, and bracelets and sparkling rings. His children were well fed every day—rivers of milk between banks of kisel jelly, and mushrooms with sauce, and soup, and cakes with little balls of egg and meat hidden in the middle. And they had toys that squeaked, a little boy feeding a goose that poked its head into a dish, and a painted hen with a lot of chickens that all squeaked together.Time went on, and when his name-day drew near he thought of his brother, the merchant, and drove off to the town to invite him to take part in the feast.“I have not forgotten, brother, that you invited me to yours.”“What a fellow you are!” says his brother; “you have nothing to eat yourself, and here you are inviting other people for your name-day.”“Yes,” said the peasant, “once upon a time, it is true, I had nothing to eat; but now, praise be to God, I am no poorer than yourself. Come to my name-day feast and you will see.”“Very well,” says his brother, “I’ll come; but don’t think you can play any jokes on me.”On the morning of the peasant’s name-day his brother, the merchant in the town, put on his best clothes, and his plump wife dressed in all her richest, and they got into their cart—a fine cart it was too, painted in the brightest colours—and off they drove together to the house of the brother who had once been poor. They took a basket of food with them, in case he had only been joking when he invited them to his name-day feast.They drove to the village, and asked for him at the hut where he used to be.An old man hobbling along the road answered them,—“Oh, you mean our Ivan Ilyitch. Well, he does not live here any longer. Where have you been that you have not heard? His is the big new house on the hill. You can see it through the trees over there, where all these people are walking. He has a kind heart, he has, and riches have not spoiled it. He has invited the whole village to feast with him, because to-day is his name-day.”“Riches!” thought the merchant; “a new house!” He was very much surprised, but as he drove along the road he was more surprised still. For he passed all the villagers on their way to the feast; and every one was talking of his brother, and how kind he was and how generous, and what a feast there was going to be, and how many barrels of mead and, wine had been taken up to the house. All the folk were hurrying along the road licking their lips, each one going faster than the other so as to be sure not to miss any of the good things.The rich brother from the town drove with his wife into the courtyard of the fine new house. And there on the steps was the peasant brother, Ivan Ilyitch, and his wife, receiving their guests. And if the rich brother was well dressed, the peasant was better dressed; and if the rich brother’s wife was in her fine clothes, the peasant’s wife fairly glittered—what with the gold braid on her bosom and the shining silver in her hair.And the peasant brother kissed his brother from the town on both cheeks, and gave him and his wife the best places at the table. He fed them—ah, how he fed them!—with little red slips of smoked salmon, and beetroot soup with cream, and slabs of sturgeon, and meats of three or four kinds, and game and sweetmeats of the best. There never was such a feast—no, not even at the wedding of a Tzar. And as for drink, there were red wine and white wine, and beer and mead in great barrels, and everywhere the peasant went about among his guests, filling glasses and seeing that their plates were kept piled with the foods each one liked best.And the rich brother wondered and wondered, and at last he could wait no longer, and he took his brother aside and said,—“I am delighted to see you so rich. But tell me, I beg you, how it was that all this good fortune came to you.”The poor brother, never thinking, told him all—the whole truth about little Master Misery and the pit full of gold, and how Misery was shut in there under the big stone.The merchant brother listened, and did not forget a word. He could hardly bear himself for envy, and as for his wife, she was worse. She looked at the peasant’s wife with her beautiful head-dress, and she bit her lips till they bled.As soon as they could, they said good-bye and drove off home.The merchant brother could not bear the thought that his brother was richer than he. He said to himself, “I will go to the field, and move the stone, and let Master Misery out. Then he will go and tear my brother to pieces for shutting him in; and his riches will not be of much use to him then, even if Misery does not give them to me as a token of gratitude. Think of my brother daring to show off his riches to me!”So he drove off to the field, and came at last to the big stone. He moved the stone on one side, and then bent over the pit to see what was in it.He had scarcely put his head over the edge before Misery sprang up out of the pit, seated himself firmly on his shoulders, squeezed his neck between his little wiry legs, and pulled out handfuls of his hair.“Scream away!” cried little Master Misery. “You tried to kill me, shutting me up in there, while you went off and bought fine clothes. You tried to kill me, and came to feast your eyes on my corpse. Now, whatever happens, I’ll never leave you again.”“Listen, Misery!” screamed the merchant. “Ai, ai! stop pulling my hair. You are choking me. Ai! Listen. It was not I who shut you in under the stone….”“Who was it, if it was not you?” asked Misery, tugging out his hair, and digging his knees into the merchant’s throat.“It was my brother. I came here on purpose to let you out. I came out of pity.”Misery tugged the merchant’s hair, and twisted the merchant’s ears till they nearly came off.“Liar, liar!” he shouted in his little, wretched, angry voice. “You tricked me once. Do you think you’ll get the better of me again by a clumsy lie of that kind? Now then. Gee up! Home we go.”And so the rich brother went trotting home, crying with pain; while little Master Misery sat firmly on his shoulders, pulling at his hair.Instantly Misery was at his old tricks.“You seem to have bought a good deal with the gold,” he said, looking at the merchant’s house. “We’ll see how far it will go.” And every day he rode the rich merchant to the tavern, and made him drink up all his money, and his house, his clothes, his horses and carts and sledges—everything he had—until he was as poor as his brother had been in the beginning.The merchant thought and thought, and puzzled his brain to find a way to get rid of him. And at last one night, when Misery had groaned himself to sleep, the merchant went out into the yard and took a big cart wheel and made two stout wedges of wood, just big enough to fit into the hub of the wheel. He drove one wedge firmly in at one end of the hub, and left the wheel in the yard with the other wedge, and a big hammer lying handy close to it.In the morning Misery wakes as usual, and cries out to be taken to the tavern.“We’ve sold everything I’ve got,” says the merchant.“Well, what are you going to do to amuse me?” says Misery.“Let’s play hide-and-seek in the yard,” says the merchant.“Right,” says Misery; “but you’ll never find me, for I can make myself so small I can hide in a mouse-hole in the floor.”“We’ll see,” says the merchant.The merchant hid first, and Misery found him at once.“Now it’s my turn,” says Misery; “but what’s the good? You’ll never find me. Why, I could get inside the hub of that wheel if I had a mind to.”“What a liar you are!” says the merchant; “you never could get into that little hole.”“Look,” says Misery, and he made himself little, little, little, and sat on the hub of the wheel.“Look,” says he, making himself smaller again; and then, pouf! in he pops into the hole of the hub.Instantly the merchant took the other wedge and the hammer, and drove the wedge into the hole. The first wedge had closed up the other end, and so there was Misery shut up inside the hub of the cart wheel.The merchant set the wheel on his shoulders, and took it to the river and threw it out as far as he could, and it went floating away down to the sea.Then he went home and set to work to make money again, and earn his daily bread; for Misery had made him so poor that he had nothing left, and had to hire himself out to make a living, just as his peasant brother used to do.But what happened to Misery when he went floating away?He floated away down the river, shut up in the hub of the wheel. He ought to have starved there. But I am afraid some silly, greedy fellow thought to get a new wheel for nothing, and pulled the wedges out and let him go; for, by all I hear, Misery is still wandering about the world and making people wretched—bad luck to him!
There was once a little boy, whose father and mother, when they were dying, left him to the care of a guardian. But the guardian whom they chose turned out to be a wicked man, and spent all the money, so the boy determined to go away and strike out a path for himself.So one day he set off, and walked and walked through woods and meadows till when evening came he was very tired, and did not know where to sleep. He climbed a hill and looked about him to see if there was no light shining from a window. At first all seemed dark, but at length he noticed a tiny spark far, far off, and, plucking up his spirits, he at once went in search of it.The night was nearly half over before he reached the spark, which turned out to be a big fire, and by the fire a man was sleeping who was so tall he might have been a giant. The boy hesitated for a moment what he should do; then he crept close up to the man, and lay down by his legs.When the man awoke in the morning he was much surprised to find the boy nestling up close to him.‘Dear me! where do you come from?’ said he.‘I am your son, born in the night,’ replied the boy.‘If that is true,’ said the man, ‘you shall take care of my sheep, and I will give you food. But take care you never cross the border of my land, or you will repent it.’ Then he pointed out where the border of his land lay, and bade the boy begin his work at once.The young shepherd led his flock out to the richest meadows and stayed with them till evening, when he brought them back, and helped the man to milk them. When this was done, they both sat down to supper, and while they were eating the boy asked the big man: ‘What is your name, father?’‘Mogarzea,’ answered he.‘I wonder you are not tired of living by yourself in this lonely place.’‘There is no reason you should wonder! Don’t you know that there was never a bear yet who danced of his own free will?’‘Yes, that is true,’ replied the boy. ‘But why is it you are always so sad? Tell me your history, father.’‘What is the use of my telling you things that would only make you sad too?’‘Oh, never mind that! I should like to hear. Are you not my father, and am I not your son?’‘Well, if you really want to know my story, this is it: As I told you, my name is Mogarzea, and my father is an emperor. I was on my way to the Sweet Milk Lake, which lies not far from here, to marry one of the three fairies who have made the lake their home. But on the road three wicked elves fell on me, and robbed me of my soul, so that ever since I have stayed in this spot watching my sheep without wishing for anything different, without having felt one moment’s joy, or ever once being able to laugh. And the horrible elves are so ill-natured that if anyone sets one foot on their land he is instantly punished. That is why I warn you to be careful, lest you should share my fate.’‘All right, I will take great care. Do let me go, father,’ said the boy, as they stretched themselves out to sleep.At sunrise the boy got up and led his sheep out to feed, and for some reason he did not feel tempted to cross into the grassy meadows belonging to the elves, but let his flock pick up what pasture they could on Mogarzea’s dry ground.On the third day he was sitting under the shadow of a tree, playing on his flute–and there was nobody in the world who could play a flute better–when one of his sheep strayed across the fence into the flowery fields of the elves, and another and another followed it. But the boy was so absorbed in his flute that he noticed nothing till half the flock were on the other side.He jumped up, still playing on his flute, and went after the sheep, meaning to drive them back to their own side of the border, when suddenly he saw before him three beautiful maidens who stopped in front of him, and began to dance. The boy understood what he must do, and played with all his might, but the maidens danced on till evening.‘Now let me go,’ he cried at last, ‘for poor Mogarzea must be dying of hunger. I will come and play for you to-morrow.’‘Well, you may go!’ they said, ‘but remember that even if you break your promise you will not escape us.’So they both agreed that the next day he should come straight there with the sheep, and play to them till the sun went down. This being settled, they each returned home.Mogarzea was surprised to find that his sheep gave so much more milk than usual, but as the boy declared he had never crossed the border the big man did not trouble his head further, and ate his supper heartily.With the earliest gleams of light, the boy was off with his sheep to the elfin meadow, and at the first notes of his flute the maidens appeared before him and danced and danced and danced till evening came. Then the boy let the flute slip through his fingers, and trod on it, as if by accident.If you had heard the noise he made, and how he wrung his hands and wept and cried that he had lost his only companion, you would have been sorry for him. The hearts of the elves were quite melted, and they did all they could to comfort him.‘I shall never find another flute like that, moaned he. ‘I have never heard one whose tone was as sweet as mine! It was cut from the centre of a seven-year-old cherry tree!’‘There is a cherry tree in our garden that is exactly seven years old,’ said they. ‘Come with us, and you shall make yourself another flute.’So they all went to the cherry tree, and when they were standing round it the youth explained that if he tried to cut it down with an axe he might very likely split open the heart of the tree, which was needed for the flute. In order to prevent this, he would make a little cut in the bark, just large enough for them to put their fingers in, and with this help he could manage to tear the tree in two, so that the heart should run no risk of damage. The elves did as he told them without a thought; then he quickly drew out the axe, which had been sticking into the cleft, and behold! all their fingers were imprisoned tight in the tree.It was in vain that they shrieked with pain and tried to free themselves. They could do nothing, and the young man remained cold as marble to all their entreaties.Then he demanded of them Mogarzea’s soul.‘Oh, well, if you must have it, it is in a bottle on the window sill,’ said they, hoping that they might obtain their freedom at once. But they were mistaken.‘You have made so many men suffer,’ answered he sternly, ‘that it is but just you should suffer yourselves, but to-morrow I will let you go.’ And he turned towards home, taking his sheep and the soul of Mogarzea with him.Mogarzea was waiting at the door, and as the boy drew near he began scolding him for being so late. But at the first word of explanation the man became beside himself with joy, and he sprang so high into the air that the false soul which the elves had given him flew out of his mouth, and his own, which had been shut tightly into the flask of water, took its place.When his excitement had somewhat calmed down, he cried to the boy, ‘Whether you are really my son matters nothing to me; tell me, how can I repay you for what you have done for me?’‘By showing me where the Milk Lake is, and how I can get one of the three fairies who lives there to wife, and by letting me remain your son for ever.’The night was passed by Mogarzea and his son in songs and feasting, for both were too happy to sleep, and when day dawned they set out together to free the elves from the tree. When they reached the place of their imprisonment, Mogarzea took the cherry tree and all the elves with it on his back, and carried them off to his father’s kingdom, where everyone rejoiced to see him home again. But all he did was to point to the boy who had saved him, and had followed him with his flock.For three days the boy stayed in the palace, receiving the thanks and praises of the whole court. Then he said to Mogarzea:‘The time has come for me to go hence, but tell me, I pray you, how to find the Sweet Milk Lake, and I will return, and will bring my wife back with me.’Mogarzea tried in vain to make him stay, but, finding it was useless, he told him all he knew, for he himself had never seen the lake.For three summer days the boy and his flute journeyed on, till one evening he reached the lake, which lay in the kingdom of a powerful fairy. The next morning had scarcely dawned when the youth went down to the shore, and began to play on his flute, and the first notes had hardly sounded when he saw a beautiful fairy standing before him, with hair and robes that shone like gold. He gazed at her in wonder, when suddenly she began to dance. Her movements were so graceful that he forgot to play, and as soon as the notes of his flute ceased she vanished from his sight. The next day the same thing happened, but on the third he took courage, and drew a little nearer, playing on his flute all the while. Suddenly he sprang forward, seized her in his arms and kissed her, and plucked a rose from her hair.The fairy gave a cry, and begged him to give her back her rose, but he would not. He only stuck the rose in his hat, and turned a deaf ear to all her prayers.At last she saw that her entreaties were vain, and agreed to marry him, as he wished. And they went together to the palace, where Mogarzea was still waiting for him, and the marriage was celebrated by the emperor himself. But every May they returned to the Milk Lake, they and their children, and bathed in its waters.
When the young queen Wilhelmina visited Brabant and Limburg, they amused her with pageants and plays, in which the little fellows called kabouters, in Dutch, and kobolds in German, played and showed off their tricks. Other small folk, named gnomes, took part in the tableaux. The kabouters are the dark elves, who live in forests and mines. The white elves live in the open fields and the sunshine.The gnomes do the thinking, but the kabouters carry out the work of mining and gathering the precious stones and minerals. They are short, thick fellows, very strong and are strenuous in digging out coal and iron, copper and gold. When they were first made, they were so ugly, that they had to live where they could not be seen, that is, in the dark places. The grown imps look like old men with beards, but no one ever heard of a kabouter that was taller than a yardstick. As for the babies, they are hardly bigger than a man’s thumb. The big boys and girls, in the kabouter kingdom, are not much over a foot high.What is peculiar about them all is, that they help the good and wise people to do things better; but they love to plague and punish the dull folks, that are stupid, or foolish or naughty. In impish glee, they lure the blockheads, or in Dutch, the “cheese-heads,” to do worse.A long time ago, there were no church spires or bells in the land of the Dutch folks, as there are now by the thousands. The good teachers from the South came into the country and taught the people to have better manners, finer clothes and more wholesome food. They also persuaded them to forget their cruel gods and habits of revenge. They told of the Father in Heaven, who loves us all, as his children, and forgives us when we repent of our evil doings.Now when the chief gnomes and kabouters heard of the newcomers in the land, they held a meeting and said one to the other:“We shall help all the teachers that are good and kind, but we shall plague and punish the rough fellows among them.”So word was sent to all little people in the mines and hills, instructing them how they were to act and what they were to do.Some of the new teachers, who were foreigners, and did not know the customs of the country, were very rude and rough. Every day they hurt the feelings of the people. With their axes they cut down the sacred trees. They laughed scornfully at the holy wells and springs of water. They reviled the people, when they prayed to great Woden, with his black ravens that told him everything, or to the gentle Freya, with her white doves, who helped good girls to get kind husbands. They scolded the children at play, and this made their fathers and mothers feel miserable. This is the reason why so many people were angry and sullen, and would not listen to the foreign teachers.Worse than this, many troubles came to these outsiders. Their bread was sour, when they took it out of the oven. So was the milk, in their pans. Sometimes they found their beds turned upside down. Gravel stones rattled down into their fireplaces. Their hats and shoes were missing. In fact, they had a terrible time generally and wanted to go back home. When the kabouter has a grudge against any one, he knows how to plague him.But the teachers that were wise and gentle had no trouble. They persuaded the people with kind words, and, just as a baby learns to eat other food at the table, so the people were weaned away from cruel customs and foolish beliefs. Many of the land’s folk came to listen to the teachers and helped them gladly to build churches.More wonderful than this, were the good things that came to these kind teachers, they knew not how. Their bread and milk were always sweet and in plenty. They found their beds made up and their clothes kept clean, gardens planted with blooming flowers, and much hard work done for them. When they would build a church in a village, they wondered how it was that the wood and the nails, the iron necessary to brace the beams, and the copper and brass for the sacred vessels, came so easily and in plenty. When, on some nights, they wondered where they would get food to eat, they found, on waking up in the morning, that there was always something good ready for them. Thus many houses of worship were built, and the more numerous were the churches, the more did farms, cows, grain fields, and happy people multiply.Now when the gnomes and kabouters, who like to do work for pleasant people, heard that the good teachers wanted church bells, to call the people to worship, they resolved to help the strangers. They would make not only a bell, or a chime, but, actually a carillon, or concert of bells to hang up in the air.The dark dwarfs did not like to dig metal for swords or spears, or what would hurt people; but the church bells would guide travellers in the forest, and quiet the storms, that destroyed houses and upset boats and killed or drowned people, besides inviting the people to come and pray and sing. They knew that the good teachers were poor and could not buy bells in France or Italy. Even if they had money, they could not get them through the thick forests, or over the stormy seas, for they were too heavy.When all the kabouters were told of this, they came together to work, night and day, in the mines. With pick and shovel, crowbar and chisel, and hammer and mallet, they broke up the rocks containing copper and tin. Then they built great roaring fires, to smelt the ore into ingots. They would show the teachers that the Dutch kabouters could make bells, as well as the men in the lands of the South. These dwarfish people are jealous of men and very proud of what they can do.It was the funniest sight to see these short legged fellows, with tiny coats coming just below their thighs, and little red caps, looking like a stocking and ending in a tassel, on their heads, and in shoes that had no laces, but very long points. They flew around as lively as monkeys, and when the fire was hot they threw off everything and worked much harder and longer than men do.Were they like other fairies? Well, hardly. One must put away all his usual thoughts, when he thinks of kabouters. No filmy wings on their backs! No pretty clothes or gauzy garments, or stars, or crowns, or wands! Instead of these were hammers, pickaxes, and chisels. But how diligent, useful and lively these little folks, in plain, coarse coats and with bare legs, were! In place of things light, clean and easy, the kabouters had furnaces, crucibles and fires of coal and wood.Sometimes they were grimy, with smoke and coal dust, and the sweat ran down their faces and bodies. Yet there was always plenty of water in the mines, and when hard work was over they washed and looked plain but tidy. Besides their stores of gold, and silver, and precious stones, which they kept ready, to give to good people, they had tools with which to tease or tantalize cruel, mean or lazy folks.Now when the kabouter daddies began the roaring fires for the making of the bells, the little mothers and the small fry in the kabouter world could not afford to be idle. One and all, they came down from off the earth, and into the mines they went in a crowd. They left off teasing milkmaids, tangling skeins of flax, tearing fishermen’s nets, tying knots in cows’ tails, tumbling pots, pans and dishes, in the kitchen, or hiding hats, and throwing stones down the chimneys onto the fireplaces. They even ceased their fun of mocking children, who were calling the cows home, by hiding behind the rocks and shouting to them. Instead of these tricks, they saved their breath to blow the fires into a blast. Everybody wondered where the “kabs” were, for on the farms and in town nothing happened and all was as quiet as when a baby is asleep.For days and weeks underground, the dwarfs toiled, until their skins, already dark, became as sooty as the rafters in the houses of our ancestors. Finally, when all the labor was over, the chief gnomes were invited down into the mines to inspect the work.What a sight! There were at least a hundred bells, of all sizes, like as in a family; where there are daddy, mother, grown ups, young sons and daughters, little folk and babies, whether single, twins or triplets. Big bells, that could scarcely be put inside a hogshead, bells that would go into a barrel, bells that filled a bushel, and others a peck, stood in rows. From the middle, and tapering down the row, were scores more, some of them no larger than cow-bells. Others, at the end, were so small, that one had to think of pint and gill measures.Besides all these, there were stacks of iron rods and bars, bolts, nuts, screws, and wires and yokes on which to hang the bells.One party of the strongest of the kabouters had been busy in the forest, close to a village, where some men, ordered to do so by a foreign teacher, had begun to cut down some of the finest and most sacred of the grand old trees. They had left their tools in the woods; but the “kabs,” at night, seized their axes and before morning, without making any noise, they had levelled all but the holy trees. Those they spared. Then, the timber, all cut and squared, ready to hold the bells, was brought to the mouth of the mine.Now in Dutch, the name for bell is “klok.” So a wise and gray-bearded gnome was chosen by the high sounding title of klokken-spieler, or bell player, to test the bells for a carillon. They were all hung, for practice, on the big trestles, in a long row. Each one of these frames was called a “hang,” for they were just like those on which fishermen’s nets were laid to dry and be mended.So when all were ready, washed, and in their clean clothes, every one of the kabouter families, daddies, mothers, and young ones, were ranged in lines and made to sing. The heavy male tenors and baritones, the female sopranos and contraltos, the trebles of the little folks, and the squeaks of the very small children, down to the babies’ cooing, were all heard by the gnomes, who were judges. The high and mighty klokken-spieler, or master of the carillon, chose those voices with best tone and quality, from which to set in order and regulate the bells.It was pitiful to see how mad and jealous some of the kabouters, both male and female, were, when they were not appointed to the first row, in which were some of the biggest of the males, and some of the fattest of the females. Then the line tapered off, to forty or fifty young folks, including urchins of either sex, down to mere babies, that could hardly stand. These had bibs on and had to be held up by their fond mothers. Each one by itself could squeal and squall, coo and crow lustily; but, at a distance, their voices blended and the noise they made sounded like a tinkle.All being ready, the old gnome bit his tuning fork, hummed a moment, and then started a tune. Along the line, at a signal from the chief gnome, they started a tune.In the long line, there were, at first, booms and peals, twanging and clanging, jangling and wrangling, making such a clangor that it sounded more like an uproar than an opera. The chief gnome was almost discouraged.But neither a gnome nor a kabouter ever gives up. The master of the choir tried again and again. He scolded one old daddy, for singing too low. He frowned at a stalwart young fellow, who tried to drown out all the rest with his bull-like bellow. He shook his finger at a kabouter girl, that was flirting with a handsome lad near her. He cheered up the little folks, encouraging them to hold up their voices, until finally he had all in order. Then they practiced, until the master gnome thought he had his scale of notation perfect and gave orders to attune the bells. To the delight of all the gnomes, kabouters and elves, that had been invited to the concert, the rows of bells, a hundred or more, from boomers to tinklers, made harmony. Strung one above the other, they could render merriment, or sadness, in solos, peals, chimes, cascades and carillons, with sweetness and effect. At the low notes the babies called out “cow, cow;” but at the high notes, “bird, bird.”So it happened that, on the very day that the bishop had his great church built, with a splendid bulb spire on the top, and all nicely furnished within, but without one bell to ring in it, that the kabouters planned a great surprise.It was night. The bishop was packing his saddle bags, ready to take a journey, on horseback, to Rheims. At this city, the great caravans from India and China ended, bringing to the annual fair, rugs, spices, gems, and things Oriental, and the merchants of Rheims rolled in gold. Here the bishop would beg the money, or ask for a bell, or chimes.Suddenly, in the night, while in his own house, there rang out music in the air, such as the bishop had never heard in Holland, or in any of the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands. Not even in the old lands, France, or Spain, or Italy, where the Christian teachers, builders and singers, and the music of the bells had long been heard, had such a flood of sweet sounds ever fallen on human ears. Here, in these northern regions, rang out, not a solo, nor a peal, nor a chime, nor even a cascade, from one bell, or from many bells; but, a long programme of richest music in the air—something which no other country, however rich or old, possessed. It was a carillon, that is, a continued mass of real music, in which whole tunes, songs, and elaborate pieces of such length, mass and harmony, as only a choir of many voices, a band of music, or an orchestra of many performers could produce.To get this grand work of hanging in the spire done in one night, and before daylight, also, required a whole regiment of fairy toilers, who must work like bees. For if one ray of sunshine struck any one of the kabouters, he was at once petrified. The light elves lived in the sunshine and thrived on it; but for dark elves, like the kabouters, whose home was underground, sunbeams were as poisoned arrows bringing sure death; for by these they were turned into stone. Happily the task was finished before the eastern sky grew gray, or the cocks crowed. While it was yet dark, the music in the air flooded the earth. The people in their beds listened with rapture.“Laus Deo” (Praise God), devoutly cried the surprised bishop. “It sounds like a choir of angels. Surely the cherubim and seraphim are here. Now is fulfilled the promise of the Psalmist: ‘The players on instruments shall be there.'”So, from this beginning, so mysterious to the rough, unwise and stupid teachers, but, by degrees, clearer to the tactful ones, who were kind and patient, the carillons spread over all the region between the forests of Ardennes and the island in the North Sea. The Netherlands became the land of melodious symphonies and of tinkling bells. No town, however poor, but in time had its carillon. Every quarter of an hour, the sweet music of hymn or song, made the air vocal, while at the striking of the hours, the pious bowed their heads and the workmen heard the call for rest, or they took cheer, because their day’s toil was over. At sunrise, noon, or sunset, the Angelus, and at night the curfew sounded their calls.It grew into a fashion, that, on stated days, great concerts were given, lasting over an hour, when the grand works of the masters of music were rendered and famous carillon players came from all over the Netherlands, to compete for prizes. The Low Countries became a famous school, in which klokken-spielers (bell players) by scores were trained. Thus no kingdom, however rich or great, ever equalled the Land of the Carillon, in making the air sweet with both melody and harmony.Nobody ever sees a kabouter nowadays, for in the new world, when the woods are nearly all cut down, the world made by the steam engine, and telegraph, and wireless message, the automobile, aeroplane and submarine, cycle and under-sea boat, the little folks in the mines and forests are forgotten. The chemists, miners, engineers and learned men possess the secrets which were once those of the fairies only. Yet the artists and architects, the clockmakers and bellfounders, who love beauty, remember what their fathers once thought and believed. That is the reason why, on many a famous clock, either in front of the dial or near the pendulum, are figures of the gnomes, who thought, and the kabouters who wrought, to make the carillons. In Teuton lands, where their cousins are named kobolds, and in France where they are called fée, and in England brownies, they have tolling and ringing of bells, with peals, chimes and cascades of sweet sound; but the Netherlands, still, above all others on earth, is the home of the carillon.